Hobbit Heartache--Chapter Two: Mr. Bilbo Returns

Since posting Chapter One of Hobbit Heartache, the Sweet Valley High/Lord of the Rings erotic crossover fanfiction story,  my inbox has been flooded with demands for Chapter Two.   The fact that my email inbox is extremely small and can only hold three (3) emails at a time is irrelevant.  FLOODED.

I want you all to be happy, except for those of you I dislike, so it is with great pleasure and some trepidation that I post Chapter Two:  Mr. Bilbo Returns.  Time for our first hobbit party!

If there's one (1) thing that SVH and LOTR have in common, it's their love for a celebration...and that's probably it.

LOTR fans, a reminder before you read this and weep with sadness:  This is my complete imagining of the LOTR world, as I have neither read the books nor watched the movies.  I know the bare bones and I'm attempting to piece together the rest.  It is a task that is much harder than I thought would be. Especially trying to compose hobbit songs.  So, so many hobbit songs, mostly about trees.

You may now commence your weeping.

(Can you tell I'm going through a major gif phase lately?  I can't stop, don't want to stop, DON'T MAKE ME STOP.)

PS--If you missed Chapter One, in which the Sweet Valley gang are on an erotically charged airplane ride to spend their Spring Break in Middle Earth, you can catch up here.  Intro, rave reviews and more back story are here.   

And now, without further ado, let's meet at the Shire and get sloshed on brandywine, shall we?

Chapter Two: Mr. Bilbo Returns

The door to the grass hut opened and dirt fell down to the ground from Frodo the hobbit’s twine sandals. He knelt down to remove the sandals, the trusty protectors that had aided his large feet as he gathered berries and herbs from the forest for the evening supper. Frodo was often keen to search for food and happy to provide for his fellow hobbits but of late he felt a deep, unexplained yearning. It was as if something dear was missing from his life but he could not imagine what. This feeling, of course, worried Frodo.

Frodo crossed the room and stood at his window. He looked wistfully outside, to the tall forest trees which could talk, to the grass clearing where hobbit celebrations oft took place, to the clear brook where the hobbits bathed together in brotherly fashion. Hobbiton, though small and humble, was his home.

Frodo began to sing, softly at first then gaining strength:

Sturdy is my home, like a redwood tree it stands

I sleep with a blanket of trees and clouds above me,

Their leaves, the hills and my heart make up this land

Protected though I feel, there is something that is amiss

A feeling has me blinded but why I cannot see

My limbs ache for contact, they burn for a gentle touch

Is it a fair hobbit I long for, for a simple touch or kiss?

Frodo’s song was interrupted as his cherished friend Merry entered his hut.

“Dear Frodo! I could not help but hear your song and knew I must visit! Tell me, friend, why does your voice sing of sadness when we have such a gathering this evening? Surely you must be excited,” said Merry.

“Oh, but I am, Merry; I am excited. Tonight there will be dancing ‘round the fire, a feast of roots and vegetables and stories passed down from our eldest. A celebration is truly what we hobbits are known for, and that is a rightly fact,” replied Frodo.

“Then why the solemn song?” asked Merry, for Frodo was known as a hobbit full of cheer and song.

“Something is missing from me, Merry, something that is deep in my heart and fills it with blackness. This feeling arrived recently and will not leave; it plagues me in the night and leaves me empty and weak as a dwarf. It is truly awful, this feeling, and I must find the cure or I fear for my future.”

Merry listened to his dear friend speak and felt worry fill his own heart, for indeed this sickness did sound almost crippling in its symptoms. However worried he was, he vowed to not show his fear to Frodo, for that would surely frighten him more.

“Why Frodo, we have all had that feeling before. I believe all you will need is an evening of revelry, spent with your neighbors and companions, feasting and singing until you fall asleep under the stars and dream of the forest,” said Merry, hoping that his voice rang true with reason.

“Perhaps you are right, though we did feast twice in the week past and still my heart bleeds. I shall trust in you and join the festivities,” said Frodo.

Merry reached out to embrace Frodo but before the two hirsute fellows could join together, the town’s bell rang out loud and clear, summoning all of Hobbiton to the town Shire. Merry cursed the metal instrument’s cruel timing and gazed with disguised longing at Frodo’s squat but strong limbs, wondering what they might feel like on a warm summer’s evening. I may never know, Merry thought, his mind taken over by a cloud of melancholy. Nevertheless, he swiftly collected his composure for his friend.

“It is time! Gather your supper offerings and we shall walk together, and soon you will see that your heart will lift,” said Merry, filling his voice with cheer and hope.

Frodo collected his twine sandals and his black woolen cape, for the chill of nightfall was fast approaching though spring was newly upon them. Frodo and Merry walked briskly to the Shire, where a crowd was gathering and the fire was freshly built, its amber sparks catching the wind’s gentle breeze and rushing up to join the clouds.

In in the center of the crowd stood Bilbo Baggins, Hobbiton’s eldest and wisest hobbit. Bilbo’s travels had taken him far across Middle-earth and he was, in fact, just returning from a voyage to the Land of the Elves. Bilbo’s travels meant that he always had a tale to share and a song to sing, and therefore was admired by all of Hobbiton and treated with great respect. Frodo in particular had long admired Mr. Bilbo’s wisdom and the gentle curves of his body, so similar to the sweet fife played at celebrations. The sound of Bilbo’s voice singing clear across the night air could often send a warm shiver down Frodo’s body, though he did not know why. In any case, Frodo was very happy to see his beloved Bilbo home safe and tried in vain to catch his eye across the excited crowd.

“Frodo? Frodo, where has your head gone? You seem to have heard nothing of what I have just said! You must be in a world of your own, for your face is flushed and your limbs are tense” said Merry, daring to lay a hand on Frodo’s shoulder. “Look, Samwise and Pippin are just cross the way; let us join them for Mr. Bilbo’s speech.”

The two hobbits joined their friends and settled down in the grass. Samwise was a helpful sort of fellow, always eager to help plant seedlings or to till a field in need. Pippin, though truly a lighthearted hobbit, was a bit slow in comprehension and perhaps could even be called dimwitted. He oft trailed behind Samwise on hunting excursions, skipping through the greens and speaking to the blue-throated birds which swooped through the sky. Pippin would have been considered a burden to the town had he not been a skilled dancer, enthralling the crowd at each festival and gathering.

Samwise was quite protective of his Pippin and the two were like brothers in their closeness. Merry sat down next to Pippin, their hair-covered feet touching each other. Sam noticed the intimate proximity of the two and, of course, was not pleased. He took a swallow from his jug of brandywine to appease the unsettling anger that threatened to surface.  But just then Bilbo Baggins waved his arms about, signaling that he was ready to speak.

“Hullo! What ho! Welcome fellow hobbits! Thank you for joining me on this evening. The sun is setting, for she is tired and must rest. We will not rest; for tonight shall be a long night,” proclaimed Bilbo. This statement was met with cheers from the crowd, with Frodo’s voice the loudest of them all. “I have been away from Hobbiton for too long and I have missed you all.” Frodo yet again felt a shiver course through his body and wondered if perhaps the crisp night air was causing him to catch cold.

“Fellow hobbits, I have much to tell you. I have tales from the Land of the Elves, from creatures that stand ten hobbits high and from creatures which live deep underground that feast on the darkness and hide from the sun’s light. I have travelled to mountains high and have touched the sun herself and I have danced with forty elves at the same time,” Bilbo continued. Frodo pictured his Bilbo cavorting with the elves, well-known for their amorous and often perverse ways, and knew that were there elves present at that very moment, he would slaughter them without a doubt.

“But dear friends, I cannot waste further time on such stories. I have important news, news that you all must hear at once. In my travels, I have learned that there exists a ring, a ring which is golden and inscribed with the most beautiful of penmanship known to all of Middle-earth. This ring has the power of seduction and can alter the minds of those around. This ring is pure evil and must be destroyed or we shall all perish under its reign.

In order to destroy this token of ungodly power, we will have to travel to far-off lands and other realms. Our endurance and our wits will be tested. Some of us may not survive this journey. For those who do not, you will at least perish with the knowledge that you have fought bravely in the ultimate battle of good and evil.

My hobbits, I call on you in this time. I must ask of you the ultimate sacrifice, of your willingness to live or die. I ask you now, who amongst this group will stand and pledge to join me on this journey?” Bilbo finished, his wrinkled face flushed from the effort of his words.

A hushed silence had fallen over Hobbiton. Frodo felt as if an amber spark had danced away from the fire and landed in the curls of his long, brown hair, so captivated was he by wise Bilbo’s speech. And as if his hair-covered legs were under the control of an elf queen’s spell, Frodo jolted upright and stood to his full height of four feet, one inch, squaring his hair-covered shoulders and locking eyes with Bilbo.

“Mr. Bilbo Baggins! I, Mr. Frodo, will join you! I will walk to the ends of Middle-earth and I will fight any creature or dwarf that dares to oppose us!” called out Frodo, his strong gaze never once leaving Bilbo’s prudent eyes.

Merry watched this happen and felt an iron hand tighten ‘round his heart. He felt both the heat of the ochre fire and the heat of Frodo’s passion, the scorching waves urging his diminutive limbs to stand forth. For Frodo and Bilbo to journey together, to spend many a night lain close for warmth, to join hands as they crossed rivers and shared fresh herbs, it would be too much for Merry to bear. So Merry joined Frodo upright, standing shoulder to shoulder with his friend.

“I too will join you, Mr. Baggins,” stated Merry.

The sudden movement of Merry awoke Pippin, who had been lulled to sleep by the warm fire and had therefore missed all of Bilbo’s speech. Upon seeing his friends standing tall and proud before the group, Pippin at once knew he wanted to stand tall and proud as well, though for what purpose, he knew not.

“Hullo, Mr. Bilbo! Me! Here I am!” sang out Pippin, hopping up to stand and waving to Bilbo. A murmur of concern swept through the hobbits much as the wind sweeps through the Lothlorien forest at night.

At once Samwise staggered unsteadily to stand by Pippin’s side, knowing that Pippin could not face such a journey without Sam to guide and protect him along the way.

“Tis all right, Mr. Baggins; I will join Pippin and we shall both promise to help in anyway that we can,” said Sam.

Bilbo gazed at these four hobbits standing before him. Frodo, staring at him with an intensity like never before seen, Merry, looking downward with shoulders that sagged, Pippin, humming a jolly tune to himself and playing with Samwise’s curly locks, and Samwise, gathering himself to his full height. These hobbits, the bravest of all of Hobbiton, would soon begin their journey.

Bilbo began to speak. “My friends, I thank you. All of Middle-earth thanks you, for you and I are now the ones responsible for protecting our people and our land. We shall begin our voyage in the morning. Pack your rucksacks tonight and bring only the provisions you can carry. You will each need a weapon of sort. We will forage for food as we travel.

To all of Hobbiton that we leave behind, please remain strong in our absence. We will return as soon as we can, but will not return until our task is complete.”

A lone voice called out to Bilbo. “But Mr. Bilbo…this ring…where did it come from? And where is it now? And how does it contain all the evil of the world? And can such a powerful tool be destroyed? No details did you provide and I cannot understand!”

A confused murmur once again ran through the crowd, with hobbits nodding in agreement and looking to Bilbo in search of answers.

“Ah, my friend, I am glad that you asked. However, I cannot answer your questions but ask instead that you place your unquestioning trust in me. With this trust, I shall ensure that good will conquer evil,” replied Bilbo.

A cheer rang through the crowd as the hobbits hopped to their feet to show their support for Bilbo. A song of goodwill and hope began, and the hobbits danced ‘round the fire, spinning and skipping to the beat. Brandywine and barley milk were passed around freely and a family of fifty rabbits were roasted on the fire.

After many a dance and many a song, the four brave hobbits that would soon face peril and the malevolent lay their heads down on the grass and fell into a deep sleep. Their dreams were filled with the same image, which was, of course, a golden ring whose beauty was both incontestable and frightening.

Will the hobbits succeed in destroying this mysterious golden ring? Will Merry ever be able to touch Frodo’s warm, hair-covered sweet bod? Will Samwise finally come clean about his hidden dependence on brandywine? And the Shire has been abuzz with Bilbo’s frequent visits to the Land of the Elves. Could someone have an elf or three on the side?

STAY TUNED.

(And thanks again to Zak for the beautifully erotic hobbit art.)