DEBBIE DOES THE TWO TOWERS

Chapter Eighteen:  Stranger Than Fiction

 

Things were much quieter at the Tower of Orthanc since that noisy army had marched off to Helm's Deep, and Saruman the White was taking advantage of the opportunity to catch up on his reading.

His assistant, Gríma Wormtongue, had arrived some days ago with a tale of being kicked out of Edoras and an entirely new wardrobe which seemed to consist mainly of tight black pants worn without a shirt. He'd said something about a new name as well, but Saruman hadn't paid much attention. Gríma spent most of his time these days practicing brooding poses in front of a mirror, but this pursuit was at least quiet enough not to disturb the wizard's research.

Saruman was immersed in "A Guide to Royal Heirlooms of Middle-Earth" when an almighty banging and crashing outside broke his concentration. "So, my uruk-hai have returned already," he murmured with a pleased expression as he walked over to his window and looked out.

The sight which met his eyes was something he did not expect. Saruman's pleased expression turned very quickly to a rather less-than-pleased one.

There had been no greenery around his tower for several months now, yet the ground below seemed covered with trees, all shaking violently as if in a high wind. The "trees" also seemed to have arms and legs, and they were making short work of the few orcs that had stayed behind from the march to Helm's Deep.

Among the writhing branches he saw two hobbits, who were helping out by flinging stones at the orcs, and a flash of red....Saruman gasped as his eyes fixed upon the vision in scarlet lace riding on one of the lowest branches of an Ent. The wizard watched, entranced, as she kicked a passing orc in the eye with her high-heeled shoe and then sprayed another one with a small white canister.

The woman cupped one hand to her mouth and shouted to the Ent on whose shoulders she rode, "Treebeard, I have an idea! Break the dam and release the river!"

"An excellent plan, Lady Debbie! Boo-ra-room!"

Saruman turned from the window to his assistant, who appeared to be too intent on his reflection to notice the commotion outside. Gríma was trying out a new pose: left hand on hip, right hand on left shoulder, head turned to the left with an expression somewhere between a glower and a pout. He hadn't quite got the expression right yet.

"Come here, Gríma, and tell me if you know this ravishing creature," Saruman commanded.

"It's Rigli, I tell you. Rigli Studtongue," the former royal counselor responded petulantly.

Saruman rolled his eyes. "That *is* the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," he muttered under his breath.

*******

At Helm's Deep, the rainclouds had finally cleared with the dawn. The last of the orcs had been routed and the Elven archers had already begun their march back to Lothlórien. On the walkway to the fortress, Legolas was searching for spent arrows to replenish his quiver when Gimli strode up, his axe slung over his shoulder and a smug expression on his face.

"Ninety-two," the Dwarf announced gleefully.

"Ninety-two what?" said Legolas absently.

"Orcs, of course. I killed forty-two of them in the battle, plus fifty on the ladder. I very much doubt a pointy-eared Elven princeling such as yourself can equal that number."

Legolas sniffed. "If I'd been aware that we were having a competition, I would have kept better track. You'll have to let me know when you plan to challenge me, so that I can crush you properly."

Just then Aragorn wandered up, wearing a disconsolate expression. "Ninety-three," he groaned.

Gimli's eyes bulged. "You killed ninety-three orcs?"

"Orcs?" said Aragorn blankly. "No, Evenstars. I counted ninety-three of them on those Elves."

Legolas patted Aragorn sympathetically on the shoulder. "Did you count mine too?" he asked brightly.

The door to the keep opened, and Debbie the Purple exited. Now that the battle was over, she had exchanged her chainmail bikini for the purple cloak and Elrond's dressing gown once again. "Hi everybody!" she said cheerily. "Have you seen Rick? I've got a date with him later."

"You wouldn't rather celebrate with me, Lady Debbie?" asked Gimli. "After all, I'm the winner of the orc-killing contest. I completely outclassed the Elf."

Legolas shook his head sadly. "One too many blows to the head," he murmured.

"Wow, that's very impressive, Gimli," said Debbie graciously. "I lost count around a hundred and fifty, myself. And I think Aragorn killed ninety-three...."

"He wasn't talking about orcs," said Legolas.

"Mine should have been bigger than the others," Aragorn muttered to himself. Debbie raised an eyebrow, and he explained: "My Evenstar. It definitely should have been more impressive than everybody else's. I *am* the king, after all."

"Evenstar envy," mused Debbie. "I wonder what my Home Psychoanalysis CD-ROM would say about *that.*"

At that moment Éowyn strolled out of the keep, accompanied by Théoden and Debbie the White. Théoden's arm was around Debbie's waist and his face wore a more carefree expression than it had done in many days. "Isn't it a beautiful day?" he asked cheerily. "Just listen to the birds!"

Everyone paused obediently to listen.

"The birds are kind of loud and cloppity," observed Debbie the White. "In fact, they sound more like hoofbeats." She glanced up. "Oh look--it's Gandalf, up there on that ridge. I completely forgot he was coming."

"Legolas, use your Elf-eyes and tell me if he's wearing an Evenstar," said Aragorn. "No, on second thought, don't tell me. I don't want to know."

A veritable tide of horsemen poured down the steep hill above the fortress and rode up to the walkway. Gandalf was in the lead, followed by Éomer and the rest of his men. They reined their horses and all looked around in confusion at the scene of carnage before them.

"We have come too late," cried Éomer in despair. "The battle is over and we lost." Then he looked more closely at the huge numbers of slain orcs. "No, wait--we won. Gandalf, I thought you said I was needed here!"

"I...I thought you were," said Gandalf, who was looking in astonishment from Debbie the White to Debbie the Purple and back again. "Still not the red one," he murmured to himself in a disappointed tone.

Éomer dismounted and greeted his sister affectionately. "It seems we have missed the battle entirely," he sighed, then asked hopefully, "Can I at least beat up Gríma for you?"

Éowyn patted his shoulder comfortingly. "He is gone. But thank you for offering."

*******

Three small figures and one taller one moved through the forests of Ithilien, journeying ever eastward toward Mordor. Debbie was sporting a new cloak and boots presented to her by Faramir and the Rangers.

"I wonder if we'll ever be put into songs or tales," Sam wondered thoughtfully.

"Of course you will," said Debbie. "And movies too. I told you about that back when we first met, remember? I can show it to you on the crystal window again if you want."

"You don't have to do that," said Frodo, looking up at her with a trusting smile. "If you're with us, then I know everything's going to turn out all right."

"That's the spirit, Frodo!" Debbie replied cheerfully. "Just keep looking on the bright side and everything is sure to work out in the end."

Sam nodded. "That's just the kind of thing I try to tell myself when I'm feelin' downhearted, only you put it so much better."

Debbie smiled. "When I'm feeling downhearted, I sing! In fact, this reminds me of a song...."

"Oh, please sing it for us, Miss Debbie!" begged Sam.

"Yes, please do!" added Frodo.

"Sing, yes, precioussss!" agreed Gollum. They all stopped walking and the others looked at Debbie eagerly.

"I'm not really a very good singer, but okay," said Debbie with a blush. She cleared her throat and began:

        "Oh, the sun'll come out tomorrow,

        Bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow there'll be sun

        Just thinkin' about tomorrow

        Clears away the cobwebs and the sorrow 'til there's none...."

When she had finished, all three of her listeners applauded.

"You're far too modest, Lady Debbie," said Frodo seriously. "I think you're the best singer I've ever heard."

"Even better than the Elves," nodded Sam. "And that's a pretty song, too. It kind of sticks in the head, like."

Debbie took Sam's hand in her left and Frodo's in her right, and they started walking again.

Gollum hung back and watched them pull ahead. "The preciousss should be ours," he muttered angrily. "We kills the hobbits, and takes the precioussses once they're dead. Both the old preciousss and the new preciousss, yes...."

Ahead of him, Debbie and the two hobbits marched on into the east, singing:

        "Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love you tomorrow,

        You're only a day away!"

 

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