Hobbit Heartache-- Chapter Four: A Journey Begins

The hobbits are caught in an erotic web of love and also the cohesive material that spider webs are made out of. 

As I begin this post, I am sitting on the floor in the Washington Dulles International Airport at 11:00 p.m., waiting for a delayed flight back home.  I've just spent the weekend celebrating one of my best friend's wedding (congratulations, Rosie and Joe!), and am feeling overwhelmed with all of the happiness this weekend brought.  Old friendships, new friendships, jumping shots on the beach-- this weekend truly had it all.

Love.

And I thought to myself, still whilst sitting on that airport floor, what better way to capture these feelings of love than to work on the ol' erotic  fanfiction novel?  Rosie and Joe, I hereby dedicate this erotic chapter of Hobbit Heartache to you (the best wedding present money could buy, eh?). 

I know it's been awhile, so I will very kindly sum up Hobbit Heartache, the Sweet Valley High/Lord of the Rings crossover erotic fanfiction novel, thus far in one (1) sentence for everyone.

Spring Break in Middle-earth isn't exactly what the Sweet Valley High gang envisioned after their tour bus explodes, leaving them stranded and lost in the forest; meanwhile, the gaping hole in Frodo's heart leads him to volunteer for a mysterious journey with his beloved Bilbo Baggins, who, along with the carnally creative Merry, the staggering sot Samwise, the delightfully dimwitted Pippin and the masterfully mystifying Gandalf, will soon prove that Sweet Valley isn't the only town where almost anything can happen... 

Got it?  

Okay, you know what? I tried.  Do it the hard way and read Chapter One, Two and Three.  Or call me and we'll talk through it.  

Now that we're all caught up, let's get to what you've all been waiting for:  the chapter where you get to read about a nude Bilbo bathing in the Hobbiton springs!  Hot damn.   

Enjoy. (And also remember that I know nothing about LOTR and this is my complete imagining of their world.  And enjoy.)

Limited edition prints available from Zak Tatham. 

Chapter Four—A Journey Begins

Morning in Hobbiton came as rays of sun spread over the remnants of the previous night’s festivities. Sleeping hobbits lay splayed across grass, covered by a moist blanket of dewdrops. The once-magnificent fire had breathed its last breath and was now composed of a few dying embers, cool to the touch. Though the hobbits had danced well into the night, the revelry had been mixed with a touch of apprehension, for all of Hobbiton wondered what would soon face them.

From within a deep slumber, Frodo heard the sweet call of a lilac-spotted dove and willed his eyes to open and face the morn. He tried to move his body upright but found he could not, for Merry’s arm was strewn over him, the long, black strands of curly hair shining with clear drops of dew. It seemed that Merry’s warm body had pressed close against Frodo’s all the night long, for there was not a bit of space between the two.

“Merry,” Frodo whispered into his friend’s ear, “it is time to rouse yourself, for the sun is shining and the song of the birds can be heard loud and clear.”

Merry awoke with a start, his eyes widening as the realization of his close proximity to Frodo dawned upon him. His hands fluttered to the front of his brown tunic, brushing against his hardened rod with alarm. It brought none of the pleasure that it normally did. He smoothed his tunic front over his burlap trousers with the speed of a jackrabbit and silently willed for Frodo to look elsewhere. Merry’s interrupted dream had been quite stimulating, as his dreams tended to be.

“You must have been fraught with cold throughout the night, Merry, for I awoke with your body pressed tightly against mine!” said Frodo.

Merry forced himself to chuckle and opened his mouth to voice feeble excuses but Frodo continued to speak.

“What ho! Look Merry, Bilbo is coming! He looks grand in the sunlight, does he not?” said Frodo, gazing with shining eyes at the approaching figure. Merry shuddered with silent rage at the sight of Bilbo’s aged and boastful face.

“What morn, Frodo, Merry!” called Bilbo, his arms filled with rucksacks and a goatskin of water. “I hope the evening’s slumber found you well, for today is the day that we must begin our journey. Wake Samwise and Pippin and prepare your rucksack as I instructed. We shall meet in one hour’s time, by the town well. Do what you must. I will be at the spring, soaking my body one last time before our trek. Oh, how I will miss my soaks!” Bilbo declared, a sad smile on his wizened face.

He turned and headed towards Hobbiton’s clear cold-water spring. The spring was used for bathing and the washing of clothes. In warmer weather, many a hobbit could be found splashing in the frigid waters amongst the large, tiger-striped fish that lived there in peace.

Frodo knelt to rouse the sleeping Samwise and Pippin, who were surrounded by a circle of dried vomitus. He kept one wide eye on Bilbo at the spring in the distance. He watched enraptured as Bilbo removed his robe, a flash of saggy, snow white skin suddenly visible.  As Bilbo waded into the water, the sweet rolls of his well-upholstered body gently undulated and his generous buttocks swayed to and fro.

An hour quickly flew by, as they are known to do. The four hobbits gathered by the well, having packed their bags and said their farewells. Samwise had a small vomiting spell into the town well before they left, which he attributed to the nerves in his belly. Bilbo joined them, and as they set off into the forest and left their dear Hobbiton behind, he began a walking song.

Bilbo sang for the next three hours time as they hiked deep into the woods. Pippin skipped forward and danced to the tune that Bilbo sang, clapping his small hands to the beat. The rest of the hobbits enjoyed the shade of the pine trees and willows, their calloused feet travelling with ease over the roots and gullies that covered the forest bed. Merry walked behind Frodo, taking unnatural pleasure in watching his hard-working rump, while Sam held Pippin in his sight at all times.

They travelled forth in this manner, stopping occasionally to sip from a cool brook or to pick wild berries. Samwise took increasingly frequent swallows from his goatskin canteen but the hydration did not seem to help his balance. On and on they walked, until the sun had made her way to the west and Bilbo finally halted.

“Now, dear hobbits, we rest,” he instructed, “for exhaustion will serve us no purpose.” He sat down on a fallen log and stretched his feet in front of him, the whitened hair covering his feet like the snow that fell freely in the Land of the Elves. The rest of the hobbits joined him on the forest floor.

“Bilbo, would you care for me to massage your feet into health? They surely must grow weary carrying so much wisdom around,” Frodo asked eagerly. Sam nodded his head in agreement while Merry felt a surge of nausea.

“No, no, Frodo, that is most kind but you must save your strength. Tomorrow will be a most important day, I feel,” replied Bilbo. His eyelids began to droop and Pippin gave him a gentle poke to keep him awake.

“Mr. Bilbo, what will happen tomorrow? And where are we traveling to?” asked Sam.

“Samwise, tomorrow I know not what will happen. And I know not where we travel towards. What I do know is that we travel with a clear purpose in our hearts and that we will be guided along the way. We must trust that we will learn our journey as it comes and it will lead us to the ring, which we will then destroy,” said Bilbo. “Here, I shall sing you a song which will ease your fears.”

Along a path I know not of

And the shadows that--

“No disrespect do I intend, Mr. Bilbo, but I myself would feel better had we a map or a plan of sorts,” interrupted Merry, the scorn dripping from his voice like the sweet viridescent liquid that so often dripped from his rigid scepter.

“Ah Merry, worry not about these lands; I know them all well from my travels. We have passed the outskirts of Hobbiton now, and passed into the shaded lands. If we travel forth in this direction, tomorrow we will enter the Fangorn Forest. There we will see flowers with blossoms larger than our heads and must be wary of the wild boars that roam the land,” replied Bilbo. “But that is not now. Now, we sleep.”

All questions had been answered and all fears allayed. With hairy feet and weighed eyelids, the hobbits crafted beds out of the pine brushes and leaves and went to sleep.

The slumber was deep and soon their heads were filled with dreams. From the depths of his nocturnal world, in which Bilbo had been performing a slow and enticing jig, Frodo heard Pippin faintly calling out his name. Pippin called yet again, and he called for Samwise as well. Frodo used all his might to reluctantly leave his dreams and open his eyes. As soon as he did so, he was greeted by a thick blanket of silver around his body, so tightly woven that he was unable to move. It shone brightly in the moonlight and glimmered as if composed of the steel found in human town of Gondor.

“Pippin! What is this above my head? I cannot move!” cried out Frodo in distress.

“Spiders! Oh, spiders!” moaned Pippin, who was trying to thrash about but could not, for the restraining nature of the substance.

Frodo moved his head in the slightest degrees to see that his fellow travellers were encased like he in a massive cocoon of sorts. Bilbo was still in a deep sleep but Samwise and Merry had woken and their eyes were wide with fear.

“Frodo, what imprisons us so? What is this silver material?” called out Merry.

“Spiders!” cried Pippin yet again. For a spirited dancer such as Pippin, this captivity was akin to torture, though Merry was finding that he almost enjoyed the binding. It brought him back to a particularly stirring night spent in the company of Lobelia and Otho after many a jug of brandywine had been consumed. Merry had used his knowledge of twine and knotting to create a netting with which Otho was restrained, and-- No, Merry thought to himself, ceasing his tantalizing line of thought. I must not venture there now, for Frodo needs me.

“Hush Pippin, worry not. We shall resolve this and soon be free,” said Frodo to soothe the worried boy.

“Your bravery reassures me to my deepest core, Frodo,” said Merry, “and it fills my lower regions with—” Merry was interrupted by the voice of Sam.

“Listen with care, Frodo! I believe Pippin might be correct when he cries of spiders. Look at this silver material. It seems to be strong yet translucent, much like the web of a spider! We are deep in a strange forest, where we know not the creatures that hide within. I do not doubt that this web could have been woven by forest spiders,” said Sam.

“But imagine the size of the spiders who could craft such an intricate and immense web in a mere few hours time, Samwise! It is comparable to the blankets that Mabel weaves and those take her quite some time, though she is a diligent worker,” said Frodo.

“Aye, she is,” agreed Sam, unable to nod his head. “And if these spiders worked so diligently on this web which surrounds us, I believe they must have indeed wanted us trapped.”

Frodo reflected upon this thought for a moment and felt fear slowly take over his stocky limbs. Could it truly be spiders? Frodo had hated spiders since he was a young hobbit and Pippin had mischievously hidden a spider into his boiled root stew. Frodo had not realized what he ingested until it was far too late and by then he could only grip his belly and moan. Since that occasion he had taken care to avoid spiders as much as possible in Hobbiton and Pippin was most certainly forbidden from entering his kitchen. But now the hobbits were quite possibly entrapped deep within a vast spider’s web! Oh, what to do!

“Oh, if only Bilbo were awake! He would surely sing a song which could help us out of this tricky state,” cried Frodo. Merry could hear the desperation which filled Frodo’s voice and wished that he were bound closer to him to ease his fear with the touch of his bushy hands.

Shadows of darkness suddenly clouded the silver webs. Frodo could feel the web push closer to his face, weighted down by the landing of black objects which could only be the feared arachnids. The web obscured his vision but he could feel the multiple legs sinking slowly into the web and baring down onto his body. His breathing became staggered as the weight on this chest grew. To imagine the size of these spiders brought tears to his eyes. The creatures felt composed of cast iron, so heavy were they!

A single black spider leg broke through the web and grazed Frodo’s face. A scream from Pippin let Frodo know that the same was happening to the rest of his companions.

“We are doomed! Hullo Death, you have arrived early!” sobbed Frodo. “And still Bilbo sleeps, unaware that soon we shall part!”

The spider’s massive body crawled through the web and Frodo could glimpse five more spiders behind him still. Their eyes shone a deep red, glowing as if lit by a sorcerer’s fire. Frodo felt the warm, rancid breath of the beast on his face and mourned, for his end was near.

But what was this? The hot breath of the spiders grew as they let out a piercing call which burned the hobbit’s ears. A light suddenly spread over the entrapped group. It was iridescent and beautiful and somehow soothed Frodo’s fear.

As he struggled to see the source of this light, he felt his chest move with ease and discovered that the giant spiders were scurrying off into the woods. They moved away from the hobbits as fast as their considerable legs could carry them.

Frodo let out a cry of wonderment as he realized he could once again move. They were free! The four hobbits clawed their way through the loose webs, limbs fighting through layer after layer of the viscous strings. Though their vision was clouded, Frodo could make out the indistinct shape of a towering male, standing before them in the shadows. Frodo staggered to his feet, helping his friends to stand up forth alongside him.

“Merry, there is no need to cling to me so tightly in fear. We have somehow been freed!” called out Frodo.

“Aye Frodo, such a harrowing experience it was! Truly one that bonds two souls and one that makes you yearn for the weight of a body on top of you,” said Merry. He was massaging Frodo’s shoulders with the gentlest of touch. Confusion dripped over Frodo like the piquant nectar that so frequently dripped from Merry’s iron protuberance.

“Did you see that wondrous light? It must have been the work of magic!” cried Sam.

In all of the excitement that sudden freedom brings, the group had forgotten about the shadowy figure cloaked in the darkness. But the slow-minded Pippin remembered and pointed outwards, dancing about.

“You! You who hides in the shadows and saved us from a certain death, reveal yourself!” called out Frodo.

“Yes, kind stranger, we must repay you somehow!” added Samwise, brushing remnants of web out of his leg hair while clutching his goatskin canteen.

With the slowest of pace, a robed figure in white emerged from the nightfall. Frodo’s eyes required a moment to adjust and see with clarity. A gasp arose from the hobbits as they realized who was before them.

“Why, it is Gandalf the Grey!” cried Frodo in surprise. And indeed it was true, for standing before the hobbits was the mystical wizard himself.

“Yes,” replied the wizard, “and I bring you news.”

What is this news that the mystical Gandalf brings? Will Frodo express his love to Bilbo before it’s too late? With Samwise’s constant vomiting, is severe dehydration looming in his future? And is Merry’s knowledge of erotic knotting and nets enough to save the hobbits from the most terrifying adventure they’ve had to face yet—LOVE?

STAY TUNED.