Friday, August 3, 2012

Hobbit Heartache, Chapter 12

Somehow this turned out a lot creepier than I imagined. 

One thing I've learned in the making of Hobbit Heartache, the Sweet Valley High/Lord of the Rings erotic crossover adventure novel, is that if you write a Sweet Valley High/Lord of the Rings erotic crossover adventure novel and post chapters of that novel online, you will receive a fair amount of emails about it. After each chapter I post, I receive many emails. They are numerous. Perhaps countless.

Skeptical Gif Pictures, Images and Photos

Definitely at least more than two (2). 

Some of the emails are complimentary ("I don't really get this project, but you seem to be really into it, so I guess that's good"). Some of them are annoying (No, for the millionth time, I do NOT want to be considered for the Pulitzer Prize in Distinguished Fiction! I'm way too busy this year). A few of them are creepy (Jessica and Elizabeth Wakefield would never, EVER be into a hobbit orgy, no matter how many people suggest it. Of this I am somewhat sure). Many are from my Mom ("That artwork sure is interesting, Sammi"). But the vast majority of emails are from readers like yourselves demanding more Bruce Patman. 

This is a request that I understand. 

For we all know that Bruce Patman is the hottest hunk in all of Sweet Valley High. He's rich. An all-star tennis player. Owns multiple cashmere sweaters. Plus, he's a senior! Of course you want more of him. Up until now, he's been overshadowed by other less hunkly-hunks like Frodo, Samwise and Gandalf. 


Yes, Merry; we're all happy about this. You perv. 

If you're in the mood for a chapter that's filled with drama, suspense, Aragorn in leather and most of all, a naked Bruce Patman, look no further! 

Bruce awaits. 

Again, I must warn you: slightly (or maybe more than slightly) NSFW drawing below. Zak's really hit his stride, huh? I think it's because I finally let him draw male genitalia. Worth the wait!

Chapter 12

“Bruce. Bruce. Wake yourself. We must leave in but a moment’s time!” Bilbo cried, shaking Bruce’s shoulders.

“Mmmm, yeah, baby. I bet I make you feel so good,” murmured Bruce.

“Young Bruce. 'Tis not the proper occasion for such sentiments. Time is short and we must leave!” exclaimed Bilbo, shoving Bruce and waking him fully.

Bruce groaned. “Yeah, yeah; calm down. It’s too early for this.”

He sat up and realized that not only had he had been sharing his twig bed with a naked dwarf lady, but he was still partially inside of her. He hated when that happened. He removed himself with a grimace.

Sorry, 1BRUCE1. You deserve so much better, he thought ruefully.

Bruce had vague memories of last night, of plying himself with Dwarven’s strong beer and watching that lady dance seductively for him. The golden bells on her belt had jangled as she shook her stocky ass and stared at him, licking her peeling lips.

He’d been pretty drunk, he figured. He must have been. Those dwarf ladies hadn’t been lookers. Bruce mentally ranked them somewhere between the average Big Mesa girl and Lois Waller. The last thing he remembered was being surrounded by five naked dwarf ladies and yelling at them not to crease his khakis. They were European, for Christ’s sake, and not available at the Valley Mall for another year. Some people just had no appreciation for quality, and Bruce tended to hate those people immediately.

“I must insist you move swiftly,” urged Bilbo, interrupting Bruce’s thoughts. “It seems that some of our companions may have acted a bit too enthusiastically at the party. A large portion of Dwarven has been destroyed by fire.”

“It was Samwise, wasn’t it?” asked Bruce. “That guy was hammered out of his mind, even for him. He kept skipping around the bonfire holding cats.”

“Yes. Fourteen feral cats perished as well at last count. Needless to say, Gimli is furious and we have been banned from Dwarven until further notice,” stated Bilbo. “So we must leave immediately.”

“Gimme a moment and I'll meet you at the gates,” said Bruce.

Bruce pulled on his khakis and winced, his head pounding from the exertion.

Must have been a rough night, he thought. He zipped up his gold-encrusted fly and headed to the gates without a backwards glance at the still-sleeping dwarf.

The group was already assembled at the gates, ready to leave. Elizabeth was standing over Samwise, who was forcefully vomiting into the grass.

“Sam my man, way to burn down the town,” said Bruce, slapping Samwise on the back. Samwise’s vomit increased in volume and force.

“That’s enough, young Bruce,” said Gandalf. “The time to leave is now. Sauron is waiting.”

“Sorry, G,” Bruce replied. Gandalf had the same authoritarian air as his father. He knew that he could mess around with the naive and trusting hobbits, but when Gandalf spoke, he listened.

“My friends, ‘tis into the Lothlórien forest we go,” announced Bilbo.

“I’m glad to go; I cannot tell a lie,” stated Georg. “So long, farewell, Dwarven!”

Normally Bruce had no idea what Georg was talking about, but this morning he had to agree. He was happy to leave Dwarven and its bizarre, unappealing people behind. None of them even had tans and their hair was the reddest shade of blonde he’d ever seen.

The group dutifully began their trek, falling into their now customary spots. While Bruce waited for Samwise to finish retching and join him, he stared at the pairings. Winston and Merry were already laughing together, while Elizabeth and Gandalf spoke heatedly. Georg and Lila walked arm-in-arm, smiling blissfully. Jessica was normally all over Frodo, but today, she walked a few paces apart.

Wonder what’s gotten into her panties, Bruce thought. Maybe she’s as hungover as I am. He massaged his own pounding temples and sighed, a melancholy exhalation of leather-scented breath.

Almost everyone’s found someone here but me, he thought. This trip blows. But hey, at least I finally got to see Jess topless. About damn time for that.

The memory brought a smirk to his face. Sure, Bruce had played with her bikini strings before, but nothing more, the prude. In his experience, both Wakefields were all talk and a waste of time. Bruce had gone on the Spring Break trip to Middle-earth hoping for a little adventure and lots of ladies. He’d received his fair share of adventure, but hadn’t found anyone who caught his eye yet. He felt alone in the crowd, lost at sea, an outcast, tall, dark and deadly and many other dramatic phrases.

“Winston, why aren’t you wearing any shoes?” Elizabeth asked suddenly with concern. Bruce glanced over at Winston’s bare, dirty feet. He guessed them to be about size eleven.

“Uh, no reason. It’s just more comfortable this way,” stammered a blushing Winston.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Do you want to talk about it?” continued Elizabeth.

“The boy and his gargantuan feet are fine, Elizabeth! Why must you question him so?” burst out Gandalf.

The group fell into a tense silence as Elizabeth’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“What say you, Jessica? Shall we play your inquisitive traveling game to pass the time once more?” asked Bilbo, breaking the silence.

“Whatever,” replied Jessica in a flat, lifeless tone.

“Great idea, Bilbo! Let’s play. Someone think of a question. Win, how about you?” said Elizabeth, her voice full of false cheer. How pathetic, thought Bruce.

“Um, all right. Hmm . . . okay, here’s a fun one. What’s the wildest thing anyone has ever seen?” asked Winston, looking at Merry. He raised his eyebrows up and down at him, causing Merry to giggle like a school girl. “Jess, wanna start?”

“No,” Jessica stated.

“Our flaxen-haired friend must be feeling ill today,” cried Bilbo. “An excess of brandywine shall do that to ye, no doubt! Now, the things I have seen . . . Why, I have seen grown men turn into butterflies and I have seen an incensed witch eat a cloud just to spite me. I have had the pleasure of a bovine serenading me and I have merged bodies with twelve dwarves at once.”

Bruce rolled his slug-brown eyes. Bilbo was always trying to show off with his stupid stories. Like anyone would merge bodies with you, fatty.

“Uh, wow. That’s pretty wild,” replied Winston. “Georg, I bet you’ve got some pretty crazy stories hiding up those woolen sleeves of yours.”

“Yes, perhaps you could say that,” said Georg. “I have looked deeply into the eyes of evil. I have been driven from my homeland and been forced to sing and entertain an audience of the Third Reich. I have escaped in the dead of the night into the unknown. And, mark my words, I shall destroy all members of the Nazi Party that I encounter. They shall feel the wrath of my anger and meet their doom. I swear it upon the Mother Abbess.” Georg finished his rant in a yell, staring at the twins. Lila handed him a handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his forehead.

“Nutty. Um, jeez; lemme think. My life seems so boring now! Well, my Dad went to India for business last summer and he said he ate a dog. That’s pretty wild,” said Winston.

“Hey, our Mom went to India last summer, too! For some paint color seminar,” burst out Jessica, forgetting that she was blessing everyone with the silent treatment.

“How strange—I wonder if they crossed paths at all!” exclaimed Elizabeth.

Oh, I’m sure they did, thought Bruce, smirking. I bet that’s not all they crossed.

Bruce had overheard plenty about Alice Wakefield, the twins’ smoking hot mother. Apparently Alice and his father had had a thing back in their college days. After pounding back five too many Scotches one night at home, Hank had confided in Bruce that Alice had a hormonal disorder that kept her looking freakishly young. It also kept her sex drive running freakishly high. Hank had unfortunately passed out before Bruce could press him for more details.

“Anything’s possible, I guess,” said Winston pleasantly. He poked Merry in the ribs. “Your turn, Mr. Merry. Regale us with one of your wildest and most shocking stories—if you have any!”

Merry giggled once more and Bruce cringed at the cloying sound.

“Well, upon one full mooned evening, my trousers had been shed and my nether regions had been inadvertently covered with honey. A flock of geese had somehow found their way into my hut and they began to fight over—”

“Hey—does anyone hear that?” cried out Bruce suddenly. “Sounds like a horse running towards us.”

The group froze to listen. No sooner had they stopped moving when a huge stallion burst through the trees in front of them. Lila screamed and Bruce felt his own deadened heart seize in nerves. Though he’d seen plenty of horses at the betting track and even owned sixty back home at his estate, this horse was easily three times their size, with glossy, raven-black fur.

On top of the massive horse sat an imposing man dressed in tarnished armor and oxhide, with long sandy-brown hair and several days’ worth of stubble.

“Halt! I command your aid at once,” declared the rugged man.

“Aragorn? Could that be you?” asked Frodo. “Whatever are you doing in the Lothlórien Forest?”

“Yes, ‘tis I, amicable hobbits. I have heard of your journey to destroy the Ring, but there is a pressing matter that must be tended to first. Lady Arwen is in danger,” replied the man.

The hobbits gasped in unison.

“You know this guy?” asked Bruce, confused. “Who’s Arwen? What’s going on?”

“Yes, Bruce, we know Aragorn well. He has helped Hobbiton on multitudinous occasions and I would trust him with my life. Aragorn, what is it that concerns you?” asked Bilbo.

“Lady Arwen has been captured and frozen within a block of ice. It looks to be the work of Gollum,” replied Aragorn.

“That’s Lord Sauron’s pet, almost as monstrous as he,” whispered Samwise to Bruce before he could ask.

“Oh, no! That sounds awful. How can we help?” asked Elizabeth, stretching her hand up to Aragorn’s shoulder in vain.

“I require your three strongest menfolk,” replied Aragorn. “We will travel to Arwen—she is nearby—and we shall free her. It shan’t take long but I cannot do it alone.”

“Our help you shall receive. Bruce, Georg and Winston—you will go with Aragorn. Help him swiftly and return to us at once. Our journey must continue tonight, whether you are with us or not,” stated Gandalf.

Bruce opened his mouth to protest, then saw the stern look on Gandalf’s face and thought otherwise. He groaned instead.

“Fine, Angora; let’s get this over with,” he said. The three men stepped forward to go with Aragorn. Georg embraced Lila while Winston locked eyes with Merry.

“We can all fit upon my horse. Grab my hand,” commanded Aragorn, and one by one they were pulled on top of the gleaming horse. Bruce begrudgingly wrapped his arms and legs around Aragorn’s powerful body.

Is he seriously wearing leather pants? Bruce wondered. Reminds me of the ones Aaron Dallas wore that one Halloween.

Before he could think more, Aragorn gave a slap to the horse’s rear and they set off into the forest, traveling at speeds faster than Bruce had ever reached in 1BRUCE1.

“Be careful!” cried out Elizabeth after them, her words lost in the distance.

The horse galloped over hills and jumped a river in a single leap. Bruce could hear Winston screaming in fear and felt Winston’s arms tighten around his waist. Just as Bruce was going to holler at him to knock it off, the horse came to a sudden stop in front of a cave.

“Lady Arwen is in here,” stated Aragorn. The group dismounted and followed him inside, running to keep up. Bruce could barely see ahead of him and ran blindly until he turned a corner and saw her.

She was, like Aragorn had said, trapped in a huge block of ice. Bruce stared, captivated. Even through the frosty ice her beauty was instantly apparent. Her cocoa-brown hair was long and lustrous, flowing over her shoulders in frozen waves. Her cherry-red lips were opened in a silent scream for help, yet looked soft and inviting.

And her eyes . . . Bruce had never seen eyes so blue, eyes that looked like the sky after a soft spring rainfall. Her eyes were complimented by the long, yellow dress she was wearing, a yellow that reminded Bruce of warm sunshine and new tennis balls and golden coins and everything that he loved.

“Is this your Fraulein, Sir Aragorn?” asked Georg.

“Quite the looker!” cried Winston, doing a shimmy and tripping over his substantial feet.

“She . . . she looks so familiar . . . ” whispered Bruce. His head was racing. Had he met her before? No, that was impossible. But why was his heart beating so fast; why had his palms suddenly become soaked with sweat? Bruce felt powerless with confusion.

“Yes, this is Lady Arwen. Come, we must begin the ritual to free her. Gather around the ice,” he instructed. “First we must strip off all of our garments. Our bodies must be as exposed as our souls will soon be.” He began to remove his armor and slid his leather pants off in one smooth movement.

Winston shrugged and yanked off his t-shirt, while Georg began the long process of unbuttoning his military jacket.

Oh, what the hell, Bruce reasoned. Not like I haven’t seen them naked before.

He unzipped his khakis and removed his polo shirt. He glanced at Winston and saw that he had a huge erection, as seemed to be the norm these days. Bruce had to admit that it was impressive. Damn, Egbert, at least you’ve got that going for you.

Fully nude and partially aroused, the men looked at Aragorn questioningly.

“To free Lady Arwen, we must each voice a truth that has never been spoken before. A secret that remains deep inside of you, unwilling to be shared or confided with a single soul. It is only with the admission of these truths will the ice melt and Lady Arwen’s life be saved,” shared Aragorn. “I shall go first.” He took a deep breath and remained silent for several moments.

“'Twas many years ago. I was riding Halbarad, my horse, in the forest. I heard screams and came across a family of tree people, held captive high within their tree. The trunk had caught fire and was burning rapidly. Without a moment’s hesitation, I dismounted Halbarad, climbed the tree and saved each and every member of the tree family. Then I extinguished the fire and made them a hearty supper,” stated Aragorn.

He breathed a huge sigh of relief. “Never have I shared that tale with anyone before.”

“Are you kidding me?” cried Bruce. “That’s your deep, dark secret? That you saved a family and were a big-time hero? Seriously?”

“I had not wished to have acclaim showered over me,” replied Aragorn.

“You must be a distant cousin of Saint Elizabeth Wakefield,” Bruce muttered.

“We must proceed. You are next,” Aragorn said, pointing to Winston.

“Me?! Oh gosh. Um, well, I really don’t know. Oh! Wait. I’ve got something,” stammered Winston. “I don’t really like to admit this, but a few years ago I started running a fake laundry business in Sweet Valley. And my only customer was the Wakefield family . . . just so I could touch Jessica’s dirty laundry.”

“That’s not a secret. Everyone knows about that! It was in the 'Eyes and Ears' column,” exclaimed Bruce. “Come on, Egbert. Give us something real.”

“It was? Seriously? Well, that’s unfortunate. Uh . . . okay. Something real.” He stared down at the ground and bit his lip for a few moments.

“Well, the past few weeks in Middle-earth I’ve been feeling something that I think is real. I think . . . I think I’m falling in love and it’s really scaring me. I don’t want to say anything else.” Winston kept his eyes on the ground and nudged Georg. “Your turn.”

“Yes, I suppose it is. I am also reluctant to admit my truth, for it is something I carry with me everyday,” Georg glanced at Winston and Bruce. “You two are aware that I was forced out of Austria by the Nazis and into the woods to escape. But what I have not shared is that I escaped with my family. I had seven children: Liesl, Friedrich, Louisa, Kurt, Brigitta, Marta and Gretl. Louisa perished during our journey and Fraulein Maria had left me and well . . . I began to fall apart. I simply could not take it anymore. I left my children at sunrise and I never looked back,” choked Georg. His eyes had filled with tears.

“You left your kids in the woods by themselves?” asked Bruce. “Aren’t you in the Navy? How could you?”

“It is a pain that haunts my every moment,” cried out Georg. “I will find them one day and I will make it right!”

“We must continue. Bruce, you are the final revealer,” declared Aragorn.

“Okay,” said Bruce slowly. He felt shaken by the emotion of Georg’s secret. Bruce had originally planned on sharing the details from one of his more sordid trysts, but he suddenly knew that it would not suffice. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders.

“My secret is that I haven’t felt love or joy since Regina died,” he said. “Regina was my girlfriend and my first true love,” he explained to Georg and Aragorn. Winston had been friends with Regina and already knew the heartbreaking story.

“Regina was the kindest person I’d ever met and she changed me. She turned me from a superficial, stuck-up jerk into a person with a heart, someone who could feel things, someone who could laugh and be silly without worrying what people thought. And oh man, was she beautiful. She was so, so beautiful but it didn’t even matter because I loved her so much. And then I ruined it all. I made a few mistakes and took her for granted and it led her down a bad road. She tried drugs once and her heart couldn’t take it and it killed her. And deep down, I know it was my fault.

“And ever since then, my heart has been dead. It’s closed. I can smile and I can act like I’m having a good time, but I’m not really there. I can sleep with women and I can touch them and kiss them but it’s not really me. I am nothing. I’m going through the motions and I don’t even know why because I don’t care. I keep hoping that one day I’ll wake up from this nothing and feel something but it hasn’t happened yet. And I miss her so much and hate myself for what I’ve done,” finished Bruce in a whisper.

Bruce’s words were met with silence. The four naked men stared at each other, unsure of what to say. Winston’s erection had withered down to a still impressive seven inches. Before anyone could utter a word, a huge cascade of water gushed over their feet. Lady Arwen’s ice had melted.

Lady Arwen stepped from the ice, her gossamer skin glistening with beads of ice. Her beauty was even more intimidating in person. She spoke to them.

“I must thank you, brave gentlemen, for revealing your souls and freeing me. You are each full of valor and benevolence, and for that, I owe you my life. Were we in my village, I would present you with sixty pigeon-doves each.

“I have heard your truths, and Bruce, I wish to speak to you in private,” said Lady Arwen.

Her voice sounds like cash flowing from an ATM, thought Bruce dreamily. He followed her out of the cave.

“Bruce, your words resonated deeply within me,” said the still-dripping woman. “When you entered my cave, you yourself looked as cold as ice, hardened and bitter. But you spoke your words and you melted, and I can now see that your soul is kind and loving. And I hope that perhaps I could love you.”

Bruce’s voice caught in his throat. Did this exquisite goddess truly want to be with him? Was it love that his heart was feeling once more?

“I . . . I would like that,” he said, his emotions still raw.

“What wonderful news! We shall be married. I will take you to my village and you shall meet my people,” Lady Arwen cried.

Bruce’s head began to race, thinking of all of the wonderful things that were about to happen to him.

“But first, a little something to help me unwind,” she said. She took out a small pouch from her dress pocket and dipped her finger into it, placing the white powder into her nose.

“What the hell is that?” said Bruce in disbelief.

“'Tis enchanted powder. It helps to take the edge off of being encased in ice,” explained Lady Arwen, inhaling deeply. She closed her eyes and sighed, her body twitching.

“That’s freaking cocaine, that’s what it is!” yelled Bruce. “You’re taking drugs!”

“Do calm yourself. I only take enchanted powder on special occasions or after a taxing day. You have no idea of how irksome Gollum is. ”

“You don’t need that stuff,” pleaded Bruce frantically. “Can’t you just stop? You could try yoga or something to unwind. We could play tennis!”

Lady Arwen stared at him, looking deeply into his roasted hazelnut-brown eyes. She held her bag of powder high in the air and then poured it directly into her mouth.

“Fine. I see. There’s no way I’m going through this again. You’re a fool, Arwen. You can rot in Big Mesa for all I care.” Bruce turned and walked away, leaving behind his chance at a new beginning.

The men rode back on Aragorn’s horse in silence, all lost in their own thoughts. Elizabeth cheered as they dismounted and the group was reunited. Winston went immediately to Merry and wrapped his arms around him in a long, quiet hug. Georg and Lila kissed.

Bruce sat down on the ground next to Jessica. She looked just as forlorn as she had that morning.

“How was your trip?” she asked.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he replied. “You still feeling pissy? Gimme your hand. I got something that might make you feel better.”

“Oh, grow up, Bruce. I’ve had a rough day. Have a heart,” she snapped, stalking away and leaving him alone.

“Eat me, Wakefield!” he called after her. He looked around for someone to appreciate his joke. There was only Samwise, already passed out cold and wearing no pants. Bruce exhaled hard and let his shoulders slump forward.

“Goodnight, Regina,” he whispered.

Bruce lay his head down under the night sky and willed his mind to fall asleep.

Will Bruce’s heart ever truly mend? Who in the world is Winston falling in love with? Did Georg secretly purchase an eight ball of enchanted powder from Lady Arwen? What’s the true story with Merry and that flock of geese in his hut? AND WHEN WILL MORE EROTICA OCCUR?!



  1. Man, I wish I went to SVH so that I could date Bruce. What a hunk!

    1. ME TOO! I don't think I'd be anywhere cool enough for Bruce to even look my way (unless some kind of cruel prank was being played), but I'd admire him from afar. And then probably continue my relationship with Winston Egbert or Randy Mason. Am I right, gurl, or am I right?!