Chapter 2: Lady of the Evening

The great hall of Meduseld was filled with sounds of revelry as the Rohirrim celebrated their triumphant victory at Helm's Deep. Merry and Pippin were providing entertainment by dancing on a table. Éomer was flirting with a serving wench in a corner. Legolas seemed unable to stay still; he paced constantly from one end of the hall to the other, weaving his way through the crowd with his customary Elven grace and agility.

Aragorn and Gandalf stood aside, watching the celebration. Gandalf anxiously scanned the crowd. "Where's the red one?" he muttered.

Aragorn looked around. "I'm sure she's here somewhere," he responded.

Gandalf shook his head. "I haven't seen her all evening. In fact, I haven't seen any of the Debbies. Where could they be?"

"What does your heart tell you?" the future King of Men asked softly.

Gandalf let out a dejected sigh. "That they are with Gimli."

Legolas, who was passing, turned his head. "WHAT?!" he cried indignantly. "I"ve been looking for that runt all evening!"

"It is certainly true that none of them seem to be here at the moment—and neither does Gimli," Aragorn pointed out.

Legolas looked ready to burst.

"Oh look, there's Éowyn," said Aragorn. He headed to where the shieldmaiden was chatting with her uncle, leaving Gandalf to listen to Legolas' ranting.

"You should give yourself more credit," Éowyn was saying as Aragorn approached. She was looking especially attractive in a light blue dress. "Lady Debbie inspired you—she inspired all of us—but you did lead the charge."

"It is kind of you to say so," Théoden sighed, "but it was not truly Théoden of Rohan who led us to victory. Still, at least it was not Aragorn either. I do not think I could have lived that down."

Aragorn cleared his throat. "Hello, Éowyn," he said, giving her his most charming smile.

"Oh—hello, Aragorn," Éowyn answered coolly. "Excuse me, I must go find my brother." She turned and moved quickly away.

Aragorn's mouth hung open as he watched her retreating back. "Did she just brush me off?" he muttered in disbelief. "But...I'm the King!"

*******

After the party, the revellers were sleeping soundly, some on beds and some wherever they'd fallen when the highly potent ale caught up with them. Peregrin Took, however, was quite awake. Ever since returning from Isengard, he'd been itching to have a look at the mysterious black crystal ball which Gandalf had brought back. This seemed a good time to examine it, especially since Pippin knew for a fact that the wizard had had quite a lot of ale during the feast.

Pippin crept over to Gandalf's bed and eased the palantír out of his arms, then scuttled back to his own bed. He set the black globe down and peered curiously into its depths. Swirling red flames appeared and Pippin suddenly found himself unable to turn away. Feeling a sense of panic, he tried to scream, but was unable to make a sound.

Behind him, he heard the chamber door open and bare feet padding toward him across the stone floor. A pair of hands seized his shoulders and shook him, hard.

"Pippin!" a voice which he recognized as Lady Debbie's whispered urgently. He tried again to look up, but his head still felt locked in place. Lady Debbie seemed to understand, for the hands grabbed his head and turned it forcibly toward her.

It was Debbie the Purple, and she was on her knees beside him. Elrond's dressing gown hung open to her waist and she wore nothing underneath. The resulting view was more than enough to break the spell of the palantír.

"You shouldn't mess with that thing," Debbie scolded in a whisper. "Sauron's on the other end and it's, like, really dangerous. Let me do it."

She picked up the Stone; flames blossomed inside it, bathing her face in a warm and really quite flattering glow. She gazed intently into the palantír for a long stretch of time. Just as Pippin was starting to wonder if he should fetch someone else to help, the Stone went dark and Debbie looked away with a smile. "There," she said, "That should take care of old Red-Eye."

"I'm sorry about that," Pippin said penitently. "It's just that I couldn't sleep..."

Debbie's smile grew broader. "I think I know how to fix that," she said, starting to untie her dressing-gown.

*******

"...So I said 'Hey, why don't you give me your number, and next time I'm in Mordor I'll give you a ring,'" Debbie the Purple finished.

Gandalf, Théoden, Aragorn, Éomer, Merry, Pippin, Legolas, Gimli, and all three Debbies stood around the firepit in the hall of Meduseld, discussing their next move.

"You do realize that Sauron probably thought you meant a completely different Ring," said Gandalf. "And if he thinks you have it, he will also conclude that we are likely to take it to Minas Tirith, which means he is very likely to attack Gondor very soon." He looked at Théoden. "If that happens, will Rohan come to Gondor's aid?"

Théoden seemed to pause for thought for only a moment before replying, "Why should I?"

Aragorn's mouth dropped open.

"I mean, really," Théoden continued, squeezing the arm around Debbie the White even tighter, "what have they done for me lately?"

"Um..." said Aragorn weakly, "I'm the king?"

"Last time I checked," Théoden tsked, "Théoden, not Aragorn was king of Rohan."

"I never said I wanted to be king of bloody Rohan," Aragorn pouted, stamping his foot.

"Oh, don't be silly, Théoden," said Debbie the White. "You know you want to fight, really." She fluttered her eyelashes at him.

"Éomer does too, I can tell," added Debbie the Purple, snuggling up to that gentleman. Éomer nodded in agreement and began nuzzling her neck distractedly.

"I will go to Minas Tirith and tell them what to expect," announced Gandalf. "Lady Debbie will accompany me, to throw Sauron further off the scent." He turned to Debbie the Red. "Can you be ready to leave this afternoon?"

Debbie the Red giggled. "I think you'd better take the one that Sauron saw," she said, pointing to Debbie the Purple.

Gandalf looked disappointed. "I suppose you're right," he murmured. "However," he added hopefully, "There's still plenty of time before then. Would you care to join me on a—er—tour of the stables?"

In answer, Debbie the Red took his arm and they strolled off together.

Aragorn watched them go, then turned back to Théoden. "About Gondor—" he began. However, he found the King of Rohan locked in such a passionate kiss with Debbie the White that Aragorn blushed and turned his head...to see Debbie the Purple kissing Éomer with equal enthusiasm.

"Why are the horselords getting all the action here?" he asked the rest of the company at random. They shrugged.

"Let's find some food, since all the Debbies are busy," suggested Merry.

"I am the king, you know," Aragorn sulked.

"We know," said Pippin comfortingly. The three of them headed off in the direction of Meduseld's kitchens, leaving Gimli and Legolas facing each other across the hall's massive firepit.

Gimli was wearing the most self-satisfied expression Legolas had ever seen—and for someone who had spent all his life among Elves, that was saying a lot. "By the way," the Dwarf said with elaborate casualness, "I've beaten you yet again, laddie. Three Debbies. Last night. Just ask them if you don't believe me."

Legolas glared. "I thought you said no one tosses a dwarf."

"I lied," Gimli answered smugly.

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