DEBBIE DOES THE TWO TOWERS

Chapter Twelve:  Stranger Things Have Happened

 

In a large clearing in Fangorn Forest, an Entmoot was in session. Debbie the Red surveyed the proceedings from a comfortable perch on Treebeard's shoulder. Quickbeam, who had the floor, was currently engaged in what appeared to be a series of painfully slow contortions.

"It's...a....book," guessed one Ent, who appeared to be of the pine persuasion.

"A movie!" Debbie called brightly. "Oh, wait. That's impossible."

"An argument for or against going to war with Isengard," guessed Treebeard. Quickbeam slowly pointed to his knotty nose to indicate that Treebeard's guess was correct. Not that this was a surprise, as the category for every charade over the past three days had been the same.

Debbie propped her chin on her hand as Quickbeam began acting out the first word of his comment. She thought the whole experience was rather akin to watching paint dry. Merry and Pippin had disappeared sometime during the second day, evidently bored. Debbie wished she could go and seek them out, but did not want to seem rude. "Who would have guessed the reason Entmoots take so long was because they're conducted entirely in charades?" she murmured to herself. "Then again, I suppose that's typical for politics."

Just then two cheery cries from the ground caught her attention. She looked down to see Merry and Pippin waving excitedly at her from below. Glancing at Treebeard, whose attention seemed to be wholly occupied with deciphering the pantomime before him, she climbed lightly down to stand before the two hobbits. Oddly enough, they seemed a little taller than they had been the day before.

Debbie examined her shoes. "Did I break a heel?" she wondered aloud.

"Guess what we've found, Lady Debbie," Merry said impishly. "Entdraught!"

"It makes you grow bigger," said Pippin with a wink. "Want to see?"

"Most definitely." Debbie smiled, relieved to get away from the never-ending charade that served as an Entmoot. The Ents did not notice at all as the three figures slipped into the depths of the forest.

*******

Sam watched jealously as Debbie the Black, Gollum, and Frodo practically skipped into his neatly-made campsite from the surrounding brush. Debbie looked radiant as ever in her black teddy, her long hair cascading about her shoulders in a lovely chestnut torrent. Frodo, too, seemed nearly to glow: his cheeks were suffused with a delicate pink flush, and his dark, damp curls clung tightly to the alabaster skin of his forehead. Gollum loped along on all fours, obviously delighted.

"Preciousss is quite tricksy with the hobbit, yessss?" Gollum teased. He then met Sam's gaze, noticing the gardener for apparently the first time, and stuck out his tongue. "Stupid fat hobbit! Won't play with the Precioussss in front of us!"

"Oh, Sméagol, Sam's just shy, is all," Debbie explained. "Frodo is an unusually brave hobbit."

The deep azure pools of Frodo's eyes sparkled at the compliment. "Thank you, Lady Debbie," he murmured modestly.

Sam turned a bright crimson beneath his mop of honey-blond hair. "It's not that I'm not brave, Miss Debbie," he argued. "It's just that the thought of that smelly thing watchin' us in a...private moment fair gives me the shakes."

"Sméagol has a lot of baggage to work though, Sam. You ought to cut him a little slack." Debbie tousled Frodo's curls affectionately. "Frodo seems to have overcome any reservations he's had, and Sméagol is doing *much* better!" She smiled at the hobbits, then bent down and began to rummage through her pack.

"Dinner's almost up, Miss Debbie," Sam insisted, "I made a lovely rabbit stew. So if you was goin' off again--"

"I just need to change into my traveling clothes," Debbie assured him. She then cocked her head to one side, listening. "Hear that?"

Sam nodded. "Them's just birds. Been hearin' them for a while now."

"It's a northern crested soft-bellied warbler," Debbie said confidently. "Legolas once told me they don't usually live this far south. Maybe they migrate or something?"

"Legolas was talking to you about birds?" Frodo asked suspiciously.

"Actually, he was imitating bird calls...that was a very interesting evening." Debbie's eyes got misty as she recalled her earlier adventures, before she'd gone home. "Still--strange we should be hearing those calls now...well, I'm off to change!" She frolicked lightly back into the brush.

*******

"You have learned to parry quite effectively, Lady Debbie," Éowyn said admiringly as the clash of sword-on-sword rang throughout the halls of Helm's Deep. "I wish I could be as quick a student in your...Kar-aht-tay."

Debbie the White smiled warmly as she twisted the blade, swinging Éowyn's sword and arm away from her own body in a high arc. "Karate isn't easy to master. I took those classes for, like, at least two years before I got my black belt. But I'm sure if you keep practicing, you'll get good at it. Besides, you probably have to defend yourself from all those suitors you must have."

Éowyn let her sword arm fall in a most dejected manner. "There was only Gríma, and I wouldn't exactly call him a suitor," she spat with distaste. "Besides, my brother used to take care of him for me, and I used to let him, as it made him feel more useful."

Debbie thought she saw tears welling at the corner of the other Shieldmaiden's eyes. She put her arm around the girl's shoulders and squeezed. "Don't worry--I'm sure Gandalf will bring your brother home soon."

Éowyn nodded, trying to blink away the tears. "If only I could take things as easily as you, Lady Debbie," she wailed. She looked down at her plain brown dress. "And if only I could look as good as you do, in an outfit such as yours, I'm sure then I could win the heart of....." She did not complete her sentence.

Debbie, however, knew precisely of whom she spoke. "Of Aragorn?"

Éowyn nodded, blushing furiously.

"Why don't you just go up and ask him? That's what I did. More or less."

"He would never take me over you, Lady Debbie. Not dressed as I am. Not--"

Debbie "tsked". "You know, you and I are about the same size...you have a needle and some white thread? I'm pretty good at sewing. Maybe I can make some...alterations for you that'll knock the boots right off the Future King of Men. And then you can loan me something out of your closet in the meanwhile."

Éowyn's face positively ignited at the suggestion. "Oh, Debbie, would you? Do you think it would work?"

Debbie didn't want to mention that she didn't think the Future King of Men was too discriminating at the present, so she nodded and ushered Éowyn to her chambers.
 

 

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