Chapter 5:  The Lady In Purple

Two magnificent horses trotted over a small hill near Minas Tirith. One of the horses was pure white, and on his back rode Gandalf. The other horse was a beautiful chestnut color, and it carried two riders: Pippin Took, riding in front of Lady Debbie the Purple. They paused to take in the view of the brilliant white stone city in the distance.

"It looks like a wedding cake," commented Debbie.

"Stop talking about cake," pleaded Pippin. "You're making me hungry."

"But it does. Or maybe a birthday cake. With a candle on top."

"That is the White Tower of Ecthelion," said Gandalf severely.

"Ooh, long," said Debbie with a lascivious giggle. "I like it."

"Stop talking about that too," said Pippin.

"Indeed," added Gandalf, "Or we'll never get there." The trip had taken somewhat longer than necessary as it was.

"Who lives in the tower again?" Debbie asked.

Gandalf answered her. "Lord Denethor, the Steward of Gondor. We'll need to watch what we say around him, as he is a touch unstable. His wife died many years ago, and he's never been quite the same since."

"Poor man," said Debbie sympathetically. "I hope I can help him."

As they approached the walls of Minas Tirith, a strange procession approached from the southeast. A long line of soldiers on horseback was galloping frantically toward the city, pursued from the air by several Nazgûl mounted on ugly lizardlike beasts.

Gandalf reined in Shadowfax and squinted at the line of soldiers. "By the Valar," he murmured. "They'll never make it. Poor fellows. If only we could turn the Nazgûl away somehow..."

Debbie likewise pulled Muffin to a stop. "I have an idea," she panted. "Pippin, can you get around behind me?"

"I think so..."

"Then I have a worthy task for one of the brave folk of the Shire. Can you loosen the eye-hooks on the back of my top?"

"Leave it to me!" said Pippin confidently.

"Gandalf, ride up to the city and tell them to get ready to open the gates," Debbie ordered. "Pippin, let's go! On, Muffin!"

She spurred the chestnut steed forward and they galloped like the wind across the Pelennor. Muffin's gait was so smooth that Pippin was able to wriggle past Debbie with no trouble. He reached up with trembling fingers and began to unhook the clasps of her garment, one by one. The line of horsemen was coming closer and closer now, as were the swooping Nazgûl. Finally, at a distance of a hundred yards or so, the last hook came apart in Pippin's hand. Debbie grasped the merrywidow and flung it dramatically aside, baring her torso completely. A shaft of sunlight broke through the clouds above, illuminating her dazzling breasts.

At the sight of such unparalleled beauty, the Nazgûl all simultaneously fainted. With no one to control them, the fell beasts blundered about in confusion for several seconds and finally turned back toward Mordor. Meanwhile, Debbie pulled on the reins so that Muffin reared up on his hind legs, then wheeled around and galloped toward the city. The Gondorian soldiers unhesitatingly followed the streak of chestnut and purple. As they approached, the gates opened and Gandalf could be seen waiting for them.

Inside the city there was a scene of confusion for several minutes. Debbie was instantly surrounded by townfolk and soldiers, all clamoring to know who she was, where she had come from, and if she was free later that evening. Gandalf finally fought his way through the crowd with difficulty, proclaiming that they had an immediate audience with Lord Denethor and needed to be on their way. As they started up the hill, a pleasant voice hailed them and a red-haired man bearing a startling resemblance to Boromir approached on horseback.

"Lady Debbie, I must thank you for saving us," Faramir panted. "I hope I will be able to thank you personally later. But how did you get here so quickly? I thought"

"How do you know her name?" Gandalf interrupted. Then realization struck him and he looked shrewdly at the younger man. "Faramir...this is not the first Lady Debbie to cross your path, is it?"

Faramir shook his head.

"You lucky bastard. Was it the red one?" Gandalf asked hopefully.

"Red? No, she wore black. The royal color of Gondor, so beautiful against her alabaster skin..." Faramir's voice trailed off dreamily.

"You've seen the black one? Really?" said Debbie excitedly. She had been wondering what had happened to that incarnation of herself.

Faramir nodded. "She was accompanying two hobbits and a weird little creature. When last I saw them, they were headed toward Mordor."

"Frodo and Sam!" cried Pippin. He exchanged pleased looks with Debbie.

"Faramir," said Gandalf urgently, "tell me everything."

Faramir blushed bright red. "Please. There are some things a gentleman doesn't tell."

*******

Later that evening, Gandalf, Debbie and Pippin sat on a balcony in the citadel of Minas Tirith. Gandalf puffed angrily on his pipe as he gazed at the red sky over Mordor. "This isn't quite my idea of a pleasant view," he grumbled. "I think Lord Denethor is trying to tell us something."

"I thought he was rather sweet," said Debbie. "Very attentive."

"Too attentive," the wizard growled. "And he had no call to refer to you as a trollop."

"I wasn't offended," answered Debbie with a smile. "I like flowers."

Gandalf decided it was better not to explain. "And Pippin was no better, boasting about how the two of you defeated three Nazgûl single-handed, and volunteering you to be part of the Citadel Guard." He paused to glare at the abashed hobbit. "I'm not sure Denethor would have accepted you if Pippin had mentioned exactly how you defeated them."

"Stop worrying so much, Gandalf," Debbie said soothingly. "I mean, it's not like things are going horribly wrong..."

At that moment, a beam of brilliant green light shot up from the mountains in the east.

"Oooh, pretty," said Debbie.

"What's that?" said Pippin.

"Oh, crap," said Gandalf.

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