Story Downloaded from Open Scrolls Archive (https://www.openscrolls.net)

Title: Debbie Does the King (Among Others) (#3635)
Author: GypsieRose
Chapters: 12

Archive: Tolkien
Category: Femme Fatale
Description: Part 3 of the adventures of Debbie, Parody Sue extraordinaire, as she wanders through Middle Earth in search of cute guys!
Published: 09 Nov 2007
Updated: 09 Nov 2007
Warnings: Suefic, innuendo
Type: Parody
Characters: Debbie


Chapter 1 - Three Times a Lady

DEBBIE DOES THE KING AMONG OTHERS by Gypsie Rose

THE STORY SO FAR:

This is the third in a trilogy of parody Mary Sue stories. The other two, "Debbie Does the Fellowship" and "Debbie Does The Two Towers," are also archived on this site. This story starts right where "Debbie Does The Two Towers" left off. It will probably make more sense if you read the other story first, but for those who don't wish to do so, here's a very brief recap:

Our heroine, Debbie, has been whisked into Middle-Earth, interrupting her photo shoot for Victoria's Secret. Four copies of her--identifiable by the different-colored lingerie they are wearing--have appeared in various parts of the story, which is mostly movieverse but with some book elements.

DEBBIE THE BLACK is currently accompanying Frodo, Sam, and Gollum into Mordor.

DEBBIE THE RED rescued Merry and Pippin from the orcs, then accompanied the Ents to Isengard.

DEBBIE THE WHITE met up with Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, and Gandalf in Fangorn, the aphrodisiac forest, and traveled to Rohan with them.

DEBBIE THE PURPLE first appeared in Rivendell, then traveled to Lothlórien, where she convinced Haldir to let her take his place as the leader of the Elven archers. She met up with Debbie the White's party at Helm's Deep.

****888

Chapter 1: Three Times a Lady

The Tower of Isengard did not receive many visitors these days, except for the orcs who until recently had come to do Saruman's bidding. But for the second time in less than a week, a delegation had arrived to have some words with the wizard. Gandalf was in the lead, mounted on his magnificent white horse. Behind him were King Théoden, Aragorn, Éomer, Legolas, Gimli, Debbie the White, and Debbie the Purple.

"Now, you must watch your step around Saruman," Gandalf was saying. "He's very crafty and very persuasive. It's probably best to let me do the talking."

Both Debbies nodded in unison, in agreement with the wise wizard.

"Just let him get within reach of my sword, and he'll find that I can be persuasive too," growled Éomer. He was still sulking at having missed the entire battle of Helm's Deep.

Legolas and Gimli appeared not to hear, as they were engrossed in a conversation of their own.

"I tell you, I've had them both more times than you!" the Dwarf was arguing, harrumphing at the Elf.

"But not both at once," Legolas pointed out. "*I* have. And Éowyn too."

"But you were with Aragorn as well, so that cannot possibly count."

"Oh no? I thought you [i]*liked*[/i[ Aragorn," Legolas responded coolly.

"I'd temporarily lost my head there," the Dwarf stammered. "Fangorn, you know."

"Will you stop mentioning that?" Aragorn snapped. "I've been doing my best to forget it."

"Hush!" said Gandalf. "We're getting very near the tower now."

The mounted party passed out of the shade of the trees and the horses began splashing through ever-deepening water. As the party approached the tower, they could all clearly see that the great Isengard was but a shell of its former self.

Perhaps more surprising than the destruction, however, was the sight of Merry and Pippin laughing and smoking high atop one of the ruined walls--and between them, another copy of the lovely Lady Debbie, scantily clad in red lingerie. She waved to the approaching party. "Hi, guys!" she called out cheerily.

"I knew there was a red one!" Gandalf exclaimed, vindicated.

Legolas and Gimli looked at each other. "First one to get all three of them...alone?" Legolas asked.

"Done," said the Dwarf confidently.

Meanwhile, Merry and Pippin bounced to their feet, eyes fixed on the Debbies who rode behind the wizard.

"Look, Merry! There's a purple one too," gasped Pippin.

"I see that, Pip. And a white one!"

Gandalf rolled his eyes. "Hobbits."

"Didn't you just mumble something about a red one not more than a few moments ago?" Aragorn asked the wizard as he arched an eyebrow.

"We've come for a word with Saruman," Gandalf announced majestically, ignoring Aragorn. "It's time we dealt with him once and for all."

"Oh, that's too bad," Debbie the Red said as her smile morphed into a delicate little pout. "He's just left. Gríma too."

"BLAST!" shouted Éomer in frustration.

"Did you rout them and chase them out of their stronghold, Lady Debbie?" Aragorn asked, his mouth a little agape.

Debbie the Red gave her tinkling laugh. "Well, something like that...with a little help from my friends...but mostly I just used the power of persuasion. Have some food and I'll tell you all about it."

"What kind of food?" Gimli asked eagerly, patting his stomach.

Merry and Pippin looked at each other and burst into laughter.

"Oysters," they said in unison.

"Smoked," Merry added.

"And raw," Pippin chimed in.

"Packed in Fangorn Forest water," they giggled together.

"Fangorn, you say?" Gimli stammered, his gaze traveling equally between the storehouse and Aragorn.

"None for the Dwarf," the Ranger spat.

"Don't worry," said Debbie the White with a wink at Aragorn. "I can handle the Dwarf."

"I'd rather you handled me," the Man answered, but she had already turned to Gimli, and was whispering in his ear.

"Very well," said King Théoden, breaking silence for the first time. "I think we could do with a snack."

They all dismounted and sat on the wall. Merry and Pippin graciously passed out tins of oysters to everyone and then Debbie the Red began her tale.

*******

"...And so they both decided the band idea was a good one," Debbie the Red finished. "Here's the poster I worked up for them."

She held up a flyer, artistically lettered on a piece of parchment. It read "Fires of Industry: Middle-Earth Tour 3019." Underneath was a rather well-drawn picture of Gríma--now Rigli Studtongue--in tight black pants and no shirt. Beside him was Saruman, now wearing a tie-dyed robe and small, round, dark glasses.

The others looked at the poster, stunned.

Gandalf was the first to recover. "I cannot believe Saruman would give up wizardry for the life of a traveling musician," he huffed.

"Well Rigli Studtongue was pretty persuasive--especially when he mentioned all the adoring female fans they'd accrue along the way," the Red answered with a smile.

"I can't imagine Gríma as this 'Rigli Studtongue,'" Éomer stammered in disbelief. "I mean, he was so..."

"He's not any more," Debbie the White answered, wiping some oyster juice from his chin. "I gave him a makeover."

"What I don't understand," Aragorn began slowly, trying to divide his time between the conversation at hand and keeping an eye on Gimli, "is how Isengard fell into such ruin. Why would Saruman trash his own stronghold?"

Debbie the Red giggled. "Um...he didn't, exactly. That was partly the Ents, and partly an effect of the backstage party we had after the first performance. Anyway," she continued, turning to Gandalf, "Saruman left the tower open and said to tell you you could take anything that looks useful."

"Good," said Gandalf. "I was thinking his palantír might give us some advantage."

"Later," said Théoden lazily. He was lying on his back with his eyes closed while Debbie the Purple dropped oysters into his mouth.

There was a long pause as they all savored their food.

"I must say, these oysters are rather...potent," Legolas commented.

"Indeed," said Éomer, eyeing one of the Debbies.

"Brings back memories," said Gimli, looking at Aragorn.

Aragorn's face developed a hunted expression; he lunged for the nearest Debbie and started kissing her madly. Merry and Pippin, with whoops of joy, set upon a Debbie of their own. From there it was every man, woman, Elf, Hobbit, Wizard, and Dwarf for him- or herself.

*******

Next Chapter: Celebrations, palantír-gazing, and a council of war!


Chapter 2 - Lady of the Evening

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.

*******

NEXT CHAPTER: Debbie the Purple introduces "her Muffin" and Aragorn gets a special delivery!


Chapter 3 - You Heard the Lady

Chapter 3: You Heard the Lady

"How far is it to Minas Tirith, Gandalf?"

In the royal stables of Edoras, Gandalf looked down from loading his horse to see Pippin standing beside him, traveling pack at the ready.

"About three days' ride, as the nazgûl flies," the wizard answered. "But you are not going with us."

"Of course I am," Pippin responded indignantly. "Lady Debbie said I could."

"Since when does the Lady Debbie make all the decisions governing this Fellowship?" Gandalf bellowed.

"Pretty much as soon as she joined it."

Gandalf sighed. "There is no need for you to go, Peregrin Took. It will be very dangerous."

"Not if Lady Debbie's with us," Pippin answered confidently.

Just then Lady Debbie the Purple joined them. "I'm ready to leave whenever you are," she announced cheerily.

"You can ride on my pony with me, Lady Debbie," Pippin offered, bowing low.

"Good," Gandalf responded, ignoring Pippin. "If you would like to mount...er, get up on Shadowfax, we can be off immediately."

"Oh, that won't be necessary," Debbie said. "I've got my own horse."

"You do?" the hobbit and the wizard asked together.

Debbie pursed her lips daintily and gave a tuneful whistle. Immediately a beautiful chestnut stallion whose coat perfectly matched Debbie's hair came galloping through the stable door. It stopped neatly, barely a foot away from the little group, and nuzzled Lady Debbie's shoulder. "This is my horse--Muffin," she explained, reaching up to pet its forehead. Her companions were stunned.

"That is one of the mearas, like Shadowfax here," Gandalf finally managed to say. They will only bear those they deem worthy."

"I guess Muffin likes me then," Debbie answered with a smile. "He followed me from one of the paddocks out there."

"I want to ride with you, Lady Debbie!" Pippin cried excitedly.

"I'm sure your horse could carry both of us," Gandalf said at the same time.

Debbie giggled. "We can't all ride on my Muffin."

*******

For those remaining in Rohan, the next several days passed in a flurry of activity. Théoden sent out a summons for all able-bodied men to gather at Dunharrow. Hundreds of tall, blond, strapping warriors rode into the camp every day on their sweating horses. Usually one of the Debbies was at the camp entrance to watch them ride in, often with Éowyn beside her.

The shieldmaiden had marched up to her uncle and firmly announced that she was planning on riding to Gondor with the army. Théoden had not been able to deny her. After all, if the Ladies Debbie could fight, then why not his most capable niece? And then Merry had insisted that if the Debbies and Éowyn were going to fight, he certainly wasn't going to be left behind, and Théoden had thrown up his hands in resignation.

An aura of excitement and anticipation hung over the camp. At least one person, however, was feeling no small amount of frustration.

Aragorn tossed and turned in his cot, struggling against the visions that filled his brain in his restless slumber. Arwen was denying him, claiming she had too many others to love, and that he was being childishly selfish in demanding her all to himself. Then her face changed into Éowyn's, who constantly had to talk to her uncle or her brother or her stablehand or anyone else when the future King of Men approached her. And then, most heartbreakingly, one Debbie after another told the Ranger that she was busy, that he was "cute, but not her type, thanks," and the agony of the rejection was nearly unbearable! In the dream, Aragorn turned to go, to hide himself away from the pain, when he nearly stumbled over Gimli, who had crept up behind him like an eager puppy. "Don't worry, Laddie," the dwarf crooned, "You've always got me."

Aragorn woke up screaming, his knife clenched tightly in his hand. The nervous face of Rick Cottontree peered through the opening to his tent.

"Ummmmm...." Rick said hesitantly, "the King wants to see you in his tent."

"I'm the King!" Aragorn shouted, still half-asleep.

"The other one," Rick whispered, shaking his head.

For one terrible moment Aragorn wondered whether the summons to Théoden's tent in the middle of the night meant that the King of Rohan had developed Gimli's all-encompassing tastes. However, given his general attitude toward the Ranger, it seemed unlikely. Aragorn rolled out of bed, pausing only to pull on his boots, and followed Rick across the camp to Théoden's tent.

He met Théoden, with Debbie the Red on his arm, leaving just as he arrived. Debbie was looking back over her shoulder and blowing a kiss to someone inside the tent. "I take my leave of you," Théoden said briefly before turning his attention back to Debbie.

Apprehensively, Aragorn pulled aside the tent flap and entered. A hooded figure sat on a stool near the tent entrance. What now? thought Aragorn bitterly, in a sour mood after his dreams and abrupt awakening. The figure stood and removed his hood in one swift motion, and Aragorn was surprised to see Elrond standing before him.

"I have come on behalf of Arwen," Elrond stated. "I thought I had persuaded her to go to the Grey Havens where she belongs, but she circled around and came back to Rivendell. Since then, I haven't had a moment's peace. 'Daddy, remake the sword of Kings! Pleeeeease Daddy, remake the sword!' all day and all night! I can't stand it anymore. Here!" Elrond pulled from his side a very long sheath containing what appeared, from the hilt at least, to be a truly magnificent sword.

Aragorn's heart caught in his throat. "This...this is...?"

"Yes, yes. Andúril, the Sword of Kings. Just take the blasted thing already!"

Aragorn stretched out his hand and gingerly took the sword. He held the sheath firmly and drew out the impressively long blade, holding it up before him. "It's...huge..." he whispered in awe.

"Whatever," Elrond answered. "It's yours."

As his foster-father turned to go, Aragorn called out, "Um ... Ada ... you don't think ... maybe it's ... too big, do you? That maybe people will see it less as a sign of kingliness and more as a sign of ... compensating for something?"

"N-nonsense, Aragorn," Elrond stammered, spittle flying, "Sometimes a sword is just a sword! Now go get that undead army everyone's talking about so we can end this war!"

The future King of Men nodded as he tested the blade--and failed to see his foster-father's faint, wicked smile as the Elf-lord left the tent.

*******

An hour later, Aragorn finished tightening the last straps on his saddlebag; all was now in readiness for his journey on the Paths of the Dead. However, one small piece of unfinished business remained before the Ranger could begin his long and dangerous quest. He strode confidently to Éowyn's tent, where she, Merry, and Debbie the White were engaged in what looked at first glance to be sword practice, but upon closer inspection...was apparently something altogether different.

Aragorn cleared his throat. "Erm...Éowyn, can I speak with you for a moment?"

Éowyn gave him an unfriendly sigh. "I am a little busy now, Lord Aragorn," she replied coldly.

"Well, it can't wait, you know," the Ranger insisted. "I have to leave for the Paths of the Dead soon and all."

The shieldmaiden got to her feet and straightened her gown. "Very well." She then turned to Merry and Debbie. "This will not take more than a moment--I promise."

"We'll stay busy in the meantime," said Merry with a wink.

Aragorn followed Éowyn a few feet to the left, and the two stood under a nearby tree.

"Well?" she demanded.

"I just thought that maybe you'd like to come with me," Aragorn offered, trying his hardest to be his most charming and kingly.

"No thanks," she said quickly, turning to go.

"Wait a minute--why not?" he asked, a little hurt.

"I do not think things are going to work between us, my Lord," she said evenly.

"They were working fairly well up until just a little while ago, I thought," he responded. "It's as if you've been avoiding me ever since the battle at Helm's Deep."

"You are not the same man you were before that battle," Éowyn insisted.

"No, now I'm the King!" Aragorn said proudly, drawing his new and lengthy sword.

"Will you stop waving that sword around?!" she spat. "It looks as if you are compensating for something!"

The smile on Aragorn's face drooped like the sword he slowly lowered to the ground. "But...but you know I'm not."

"I know not what to believe any more," she said sadly. "Ever since I saw you rolling on the ground with Gimli, I am no longer sure what kind of man you really are."

"I'm the King," he answered weakly.

"I am sorry, Aragorn, but that just is not enough for me." Éowyn walked slowly back to her tent, turning only to add momentarily, "Good luck on your trip."

Embarrassed, Aragorn slunk back to his horse and prepared to ride off.

Just as he headed for the pass, he felt a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry about the whole Éowyn thing," Debbie the White said sympathetically. "I'll accompany you, if you'd like."

Aragorn smiled. Things were looking up, suddenly. "Yes, I'd like--"

"I'll be coming too, Laddie." Gimli suddenly appeared at Debbie's side. "I wouldn't want to see harm come to you."

Aragorn thought the Dwarf had winked at him, and he shuddered. "I think Lady Debbie and I can--"

"You're not getting a Debbie to yourself, you know," said Legolas, standing to Debbie's other side, opposite the Dwarf.

Aragorn's shoulders slumped in defeat. "Fine. Let's just get out of here before anyone notices--"

"Why is Lord Aragorn leaving us?!" Rick Cottontree screamed from the camp, awakening anyone who was still left asleep. The Rohirrim mustered about the exiting party as they led their horses slowly past.

"I will tell you why he leaves," Théoden muttered--though not so quietly that Aragorn couldn't hear him. "He leaves because he is not a man."

"Because he is afraid to face the battle?" Éomer asked Debbie the Red anxiously. "Because he thinks we have no hope?"

Debbie, engaged in stroking the horse-lord's long, wavy, golden hair, did not answer. Gamling responded for her: "No, he leaves because he must. He must be dying of embarrassment. I mean, look at the sword he carries now--it's obvious he's compensating for something."

Aragorn quickened his pace, urging the others along, glad that the shadow of the mountain hid the scarlet in his cheeks.

*******

NEXT CHAPTER: A close encounter with a nazgûl, and Debbie deals with a lembas shortage!


Chapter 4 - The Lady in Black

Chapter 4: The Lady in Black

Since leaving Henneth Annûn, Debbie the Black, Frodo, Sam, and Gollum had traveled across increasingly harsh terrain which made Debbie feel grateful for clothing other than the black silk teddy she'd been wearing when she arrived in Middle-Earth. The hobbit shirt and breeches (from Frodo and Sam) and the cloak and boots (from Faramir and the Rangers of Ithilien) were sturdy and warm, and much more suitable for travel. She'd saved the teddy for...special occasions--mostly with Frodo, since Gollum insisted on watching whenever he was around, and Sam objected to this idea. Frodo, however, had grown quite accustomed to an audience. Debbie even suspected him of showing off at times for Gollum's benefit.

Now the little group stood on a low ridge, facing a sight more dismal than any they had encountered up to this point. "The dead city," hissed Gollum impressively, waving a skinny arm toward the green-lit buildings ahead. "Very nasty place," he added unneccessarily.

"We can see that," Sam grumbled. He shifted the weight of his pack onto his shoulder.

"It's not so very bad," Debbie mused. "Kind of reminds me of the Emerald City in The Wizard of Oz."

Frodo edged closer to Debbie and shivered. "I'm glad you have the Ring," he said. "This place has such an evil presence that I'm not sure I could bear it. I'd find myself standing right by the front gate, staring up at it like a great fool."

"Not that great a fool," said Debbie kindly. "After all, the Ring is a tremendous burden to bear...for most people."

Gollum was already fidgeting impatiently. "Hurry now!" he called as he bounded ahead.

Just as they passed the entrance to Minas Morgul, there was an eerie moment of total silence. Then, with a roaring sound, the entire city flashed with vivid green light which spiked up in a solid column reaching into the sky. Debbie's chestnut hair blew backward in the breeze created by the flapping of a huge, scaly, bat-winged creature as it swooped in to land on the city wall. A helmeted Ringwraith could be seen on the creature's back, swinging his head from side to side as if he sensed their presence.

"Ooh...must go," Debbie murmured. Suddenly, the hobbits realized with horror that she was walking forward, her eyes fixed on the Witch-King as if hypnotized. Ignoring Sam's panicked cry of "Miss Debbie, no!" she stepped onto the walkway leading up to the city gates.

Frodo and Sam stood rooted to the spot with horror, and even Gollum could only watch as the Witch-King turned his head in Lady Debbie's direction...and then did a double-take. If the wraith had had eyes, Frodo thought, they would certainly have popped. He held his breath, waiting to see what would happen next.

What happened was that Lady Debbie winked one striking emerald eye at the Witch-King, then raised her hand to her lips and blew him a kiss. The wraith clutched at his heart--or at least, the place where his heart would have been if he'd had one. As the winged steed took off, the helmeted head continued to look back toward Debbie. Giggling, she skipped back to rejoin the others.

"Miss Debbie! You near gave me the fright of my life," Sam scolded. "What'd you go and do that for?"

"Sorry, Sam, I couldn't resist," she answered dreamily. "There's just something so fascinating about a man of mystery."

*******

The climb up the mountain stair was long and tiring, but at long last Frodo, who was in the lead, called out that he had reached the top. Sam followed, and then Gollum, with Debbie bringing up the rear. She looked up to see Gollum leaning down from the ledge above and offering her his hand. A strange light was in his eyes and his grin showed a mouthful of broken teeth as he rasped, "Come to meee...preciousssss...."

Debbie flashed him her most dazzling smile and took his hand, letting him help her up the last few steps. "Thank you, Sméagol...oof." She flopped forward onto a wide ledge of bare stone which seemed to mark the end of the stairs. Straight ahead was a large, dark opening leading straight into the heart of the mountain.

Gollum was already moving toward the cave mouth and gesturing for the others to follow. "Come on!" he called out impatiently. "Still a long way to go!"

"We're not goin' nowhere until we've had somethin' to eat," Sam declared. "Miss Debbie needs to keep up her strength." He knelt down and began to rummage in his pack. Suddenly his face took on an expression of pure panic as he pulled out several empty, dry leaves which had once wrapped squares of lembas. "It's gone!" he cried.

"What, the lembas?" Frodo leaned over to look at the leaves.

Sam stood up, eyes fixed on Gollum with a murderous expression. "HE took it!" he screamed, and lunged toward the pathetic creature.

Debbie, however, caught Sam by the collar and held him back, while Frodo leaped up to restrain Gollum. "Sam!" she shouted firmly. "It's okay!"

"No, it's not! He's taken all our food!"

"No he hasn't. We may be out of lembas, but I was kinda tired of it anyway. Look." Debbie released Sam and rummaged around in her shoulder bag. "The Rangers gave us some trail mix type stuff...and I've got some nutty bars...and oh, look! Life Savers. We should be fine." She put her hands on her hips and looked sternly from Sam to Gollum and back again. "Now then, I want you two to shake hands." The two of them simply stood, glaring at one another.

Debbie clicked her tongue impatiently. "Look, this is one place where we are not going to follow the movie," she scolded. "That'll just lead to a lot of tears and spider-bites. We are not going another step until we're a team, got it?" Silence. "What's it going to take for you two to stop bickering?"

"Fat hobbit could play with the preciousss for Sméagol," Gollum suggested finally. "Both hobbits could play."

"Sounds good to me," said Frodo, and began unbuttoning his waistcoat.

"That ain't fair!" Sam cried indignantly. "The old villain gets his wish and what do I get out of it?"

"Sex," said Debbie simply.

Sam wavered.

"It's fun, Sam," said Frodo, tossing his waistcoat aside and starting to pull down his trousers.

"All right...I s'pose...when you put it that way...."

Debbie smiled. "That's the spirit."

*******

"Now, that wasn't so bad, was it, Sam?" said Frodo as he finished re-buttoning his waistcoat.

"No...I s'pose not...though I wish Gollum wouldn't keep score. Fair throws me off my pace." Sam tucked his shirt into his trousers.

"You'll get used to it," Frodo responded comfortingly

Debbie, already dressed except for her boots, pulled a small compact out of her shoulderbag. She wrinkled her cute little nose at her reflection in the mirror. "This place really is murder on my makeup," she sighed. "And we're not even technically in Mordor yet."

"Precioussss looks lovely anyway," murmured Gollum lazily.

Frodo wandered over to Debbie and glanced into her bag. Suddenly he reached in and held up what looked like a mass of thin, black leather straps with two three-inch spikes in the middle. "Lady Debbie, what's this?"

Debbie took the item from him. "Oh! My black sandals!" she said with a pleased expression which quickly turned into a puzzled frown. "Now, where did those come from? I could swear they weren't in the bag yesterday." She looked at them reflectively, then began to unlace her boots. "Somehow I have a feeling I'm going to want these," she remarked.

"Why's that, Lady Debbie?" asked Frodo

"Well...remember I told you once that killing spiders doesn't mess up your karma? I think we're going to not mess up our karma today."

They all looked at the cave entrance for a moment.

"We're a team," said Debbie. "We can do anything if we stick together."

"Right," Frodo agreed.

"All the same," said Sam nervously, "I'd feel better if you'd sing us another one of your songs, Miss Debbie."

Debbie thought for a moment and then smiled. "I think I know just the song." She raised her voice in a hope-giving carol:

"When you walk through a storm
Hold your head up high
And don't be afraid of the dark
At the end of the storm is a golden sky
And the sweet silver song of a lark
Walk on through the wind
Walk on through the rain
Though your dreams be tossed and blown
Walk on, walk on
With hope in your heart
And you'll never walk alone!"

By the time she had finished the song, Frodo fairly glowed with determination. Sam blew his nose loudly, but looked no less resolute. Gollum crouched eagerly at Debbie's feet. She smiled down at them all.

"So--are we ready?"

"YES!" they chorused, and all four strode boldly forward into the cave.

*******

NEXT CHAPTER:  Debbie the Purple arrives in Minas Tirith!


Chapter 5 - The Lady in Purple

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. 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 angry 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.

*******

NEXT CHAPTER: Debbie the Red continues toward Gondor, and Debbie the White meets the Dead!


Chapter 6 - The Lady in Red/The Lady in White

The Riders of Rohan, plus two shieldmaidens and one hobbit, had been traveling steadily toward Gondor for two days. Just now they had stopped to set up camp beside an idyllic lake which was dazzlingly blue and smooth as a mirror. In the distance a range of mountains could be seen, showing that they were nearing their goal.

Having finished setting up the tent she was to share with Lady Debbie, Éowyn sat down to rest on a convenient rock. She pulled off her helmet and scowled at it as she shook out her long, golden tresses. It really was giving her the most awful case of helmet-hair. Perhaps she should start going without one, like Lady Debbie; after all, it wasn't like she was trying to hide anything. She set the helmet down and rested her chin on her hand, watching as Rick Cottontree and Meriadoc Brandybuck struggled to erect their tent.

Eventually the Man and the Hobbit succeeded in getting the tent upright and wandered over toward where Éowyn sat. As they came nearer, she could overhear their conversation.

"Blueberry pies," sighed Rick longingly.

"Ale at the Green Dragon," said Merry.

"Pipes in garden after supper," said Rick.

"Estella Bolger," said Merry.

"You too?" said Rick, taking a seat on another rock next to Éowyn.

"Oh yes, Estella's most friendly," said Merry as he sat on the ground. "The most generous lass that ever lived. Except for Lady Debbie, of course." At that, he sighed wistfully and looked around the camp. Debbie the Red had disappeared into Gamling's tent as soon as it was pitched, and had not yet emerged.

"Variety is all very well," Éowyn mused, "but it would be nice to have one man I could come back to after sampling the others."

"Provided you ever finish sampling, of course," Merry said in the same wistful tone. He picked a stalk of grass and chewed on it meditatively. Lady Debbie had been making most free with the Rohirric smorgasboard available in the camp, with the result that he had hardly seen her since the muster had been called.

At that moment, the flap of Gamling's tent opened and Lady Debbie the Red emerged, adusting the straps on her red lace lingerie. Her cheeks were flushed to a becoming shade of pink and her chestnut hair was attractively mussed.

"Hi, everyone," she called cheerily as she walked over to them. "What are you up to?"

"Just talking about things we miss from the Shire," Rick answered. "Merry says I can go back with him after the war's over."

"That's great!" Debbie responded. "By the way, we've got a date for tomorrow, right?"

Merry glared at Rick. "Traitor," he muttered.

Debbie blinked innocently at the angry hobbit. "Is something wrong, Merry?"

Merry blushed and looked and down. "It's nothing..."

"No really, you should tell me if something's bothering you," Debbie said earnestly. "It's not healthy to keep your emotions all bottled up."

Merry raised his eyes to the red-clad vision before him and took a deep breath. "Lady Debbie...I know you're surrounded by all these big, handsome warriors..."

"That's true," Debbie agreed dreamily. "Big, hunky guys who know how to ride..."

"Yes...well...I'm not a knight of Rohan. I'm only a little hobbit," Merry continued. "But there is a saying among the Breelanders that sometimes small men may do the greater deeds. Could we perhaps...see how great a deed I can manage?"

Debbie sniffled and nodded. "Oh Merry, how could I resist a request like that? I'm touched."

"Not yet," said Merry happily. "But soon enough." He led her off to his tent.

Éowyn and Rick watched them go. Suddenly Rick turned to Éowyn. "Where am I supposed to sleep now?" he asked plaintively.

Éowyn looked him over. He was a bit inept, but not bad-looking. Well, there was nothing wrong with a little more sampling. "You might as well come with me," she said with a shrug.

*******

Aragorn, Gimli, Legolas, and Debbie the White had been traveling for some time on the Paths of the Dead. The group's horses had refused to enter the haunted mountain and instead had bolted off with the saddlebags, so the party was traveling on foot. Despite the dustiness of their surroundings, Debbie's white baby doll nightie was still as spotless as ever. It glowed faintly in the dim light from the torch Aragorn carried.

Debbie peered around her at the rocky walls. "You know," she said, "This isn't really a path so much as a cave. They should call it the Caves of the Dead."

"Except there aren't any Dead," Legolas pointed out.

"They must be here somewhere," insisted Aragorn. He was leading the way with Andúril drawn, searching through the gloom for any sign of the mountain's ghostly inhabitants. So far, all they had found were a few quite alive lizards.

"You might as well put that sword away if there's no use for it," Gimli commented.

"I can't," said Aragorn. "The scabbard is still attached to Brego's saddle."

"There's an old Dwarvish saying about walking around with your blade unsheathed..." Gimli continued suggestively.

"Not a chance," Aragorn replied through clenched teeth.

They rounded another corner and came out into a huge, high-ceilinged cavern. The walls glowed with a sickly green light which seemed to form itself into phantom buildings, like the ghost of a massive underground city. Wisps of greenish mist rose from the floor and brushed against their bodies, creeping inside Debbie's loose white nightie. "Stop that!" she giggled.

"I think we've found them," said Legolas unnecessarily.

Sure enough, hundreds of translucent shapes were materializing all around them. One, who seemed to be their leader, stepped forward. He seemed to be wearing tattered wisps of once-fine clothing, and his face wavered oddly between flesh and bone in the eerie glow.

"Who dares to disturb our rest?" he asked in a raspy voice. The other phantoms watched silently.

Aragorn stepped up to meet the Ghost King.

"I am Aragorn, the rightful King of Gondor," he announced impressively. "I have come to summon you to fight against the forces of Sauron. If you do, I will release you from the oath that keeps you bound to this world so that you can go on to your final rewards. What say you? Will you regain your honor and follow me?" He emphasized his speech with a wave of the sword.

The Ghost King looked back at Aragorn with disdain. "You don't have the bearing of a King," he said. "And you're obviously compensating for something with that ridiculous sword."

"It's the Sword of Kings!" Aragorn sputtered. "Don't you recognize the Sword of Kings?"

The King of the Dead, however, was not listening. His eyes (or rather, his empty eye-sockets) were glued to Lady Debbie, who stood to the side watching the encounter. "Is she with you?" he asked.

"Er...yes," said Aragorn.

"We'll follow her," said the Ghost King. The other phantoms nodded in agreement.

Debbie smiled radiantly, flashing a dimple in her cheek. "Thanks, guys! Let's get going, then." She started down a tunnel leading out of the cave. The host of glowing green warriors followed her silently. Legolas and Gimli brought up the rear, leaving Aragorn standing alone in the ghostly city.

"But I'm the King!" he wailed. His voice echoed dismally through the empty cavern.

*******

NEXT CHAPTER: Debbie the Black meets Shelob, and Debbie the Purple has dinner with Denethor!


Chapter 7 - The Lady and the Spider

Debbie the Black, Frodo, Sam, and Gollum were making their way through a maze of twisty little passages, all alike--in other words, narrow and sticky. It was pitch-dark.

"We're likely to be eaten by a Grue," Debbie panted as she brushed away a clinging strand of something-or-other.

"A what?" said Sam.

"Oh, nothing. But I wish I had a flashlight. These spike heels aren't very practical on stone floors."

There was a slapping sound, as if Frodo had suddenly smacked himself on the forehead. "I've just remembered! I got a present from the Elves back in Lothlórien...the light of a star or something like that..."

Debbie clapped her hands. "Oh yes...pull it out!" Then she giggled. "The star-glass, I mean."

Frodo did so. The crystal bottle began to glow with a brilliant white light as he held it up, illuminating the scene before them. The walls and ceiling of the tunnel seemed to be covered with a sticky white mass of...

"Spiderwebs," said Debbie. "I thought so."

Sam gulped. "The spider that could make these'd have to be huge," he said.

"She is," said Gollum, nodding vigorously. "Yessss, precioussss, huge."

Debbie turned to the creature that crouched at her feet. "All right, Gollum," she said sternly. "We kept our part of the bargain. Now you have to help us get through this part safely."

"Yes, yes!" said Gollum, capering about eagerly. "Good Sméagol will take you safely through the mountain! Follow Sméagol!" He scurried quickly ahead down the passage, pausing only to look back and motion for the others to follow. "Hurry now!"

*******

Gollum threaded his way surely through the tunnels. "Nearly there now," he called over his shoulder, and then scampered around another corner. The others heard him shriek and then he scrambled back toward them looking, if possible, paler than ever. "Not that way!" he panted. "Nasssty big spider is that way!"

The other three cautiously poked their heads around the corner to look into the next passageway. Sure enough, a hairy black spider approximately the size of the sitting-room at Bag End crouched there.

"Save us," murmured Sam.

"I intend to," said Debbie. She turned to Frodo. "I think you'd better give me the light of Air India or whatever it was."

Frodo handed it to her. "Would you like to take Sting as well?" he asked.

"No, no, you keep that in case you need it," Debbie answered. She rummaged around in her shoulder-bag and pulled out a brightly-colored cylinder which the hobbits had not seen before. "Keep this safe for me, would you?" she asked as she handed the bag to Frodo. He thought he had never seen her look as beautiful as she did at that moment. Her face was set in an expression of proud determination as she told them, "Wait here. This won't take a moment."

The hobbits sank to the ground as Debbie disappeared around the corner. Frodo clutched Debbie's bag for moral support. Sam clutched Frodo. Gollum cowered behind them, hiding his head in his skinny arms.

"Miss Debbie will be all right, won't she, Mr. Frodo?" Sam whispered anxiously.

From around the corner they heard a loud "Hiiiiiiii-keeba!" The light from the star-glass threw huge shadows onto the cave wall. A lithe, curvaceous female figure with flying hair was fighting a bulbous monster many times her size. Debbie seemed to be everywhere at once: first kicking the spider in the leg, then somersaulting onto its back and aiming the tube in her hand down at the massive body beneath her.

"Eat Vidal Sassoon Super-Extra-Hold, Shelob!" There was a loud hissing noise and suddenly the spider shadow's movements slowed, then finally stopped. The shadow of Debbie reached down and pulled off one of her sandals. She raised it high, and then brought it down squarely on the head of the giant spider with a sickening squishing noise as the spike heel penetrated into its brain. There was a long moment when nobody moved. Then Debbie's shadow jumped lightly down and the light grew brighter as she approached the others.

"We can go on now," she said brightly, rounding the corner. "As soon as I put on my boots, because my other sandal is covered with icky spider brains. That took almost all my hairspray, though," she said with a sigh.

*******

As a Guard of the Citadel, Debbie the Purple had found that a surprising percentage of her duties consisted of waiting personally on Lord Denethor. She'd had to brush his hair, brush his coat, and brush his trousers--although that would have been easier, she thought, if he would only taken them off first.

Tonight she had been summoned to a private dinner with him. As she entered the throne room, elegantly dressed in Lord Elrond's dressing gown, she found that a sumptuous table for two had been set. Lord Denethor was already waiting for her in his black stone chair. He sprang up to seat her.

"I've arranged for some entertainment," he told her. "A new band of traveling minstrels who have just arrived in town. It seems Saruman the White has decided to trade his life as a wizard for a musical career."

"And I've traded in my white robes too," said the tall, thin, white-haired man as he entered the room. "I'm Saruman the Many-Colored now. Isn't it groovy?" And in fact, his once-white robes now sported every color of the rainbow in concentric sunburst patterns which Debbie recognized as the result of tie-dying. Saruman himself wore small, round, dark glasses. He held a pipe in one hand and wheeled a portable pipe organ on a cart with the other. "Where do you want us to set up?"

"Over there," said Denethor, gesturing vaguely. "Where my guest and I can hear you."

"That's cool, man," said Saruman. The he suddenly did a double-take. "Lady Debbie! Far out! I can't thank you enough for convincing me to change my lifestyle. I'm so much more mellow nowadays."

Debbie smiled at him.

"And that goes double for me," a second voice announced dramatically from the doorway. Gríma Wormtongue--or rather, Rigli Studtongue--strode confidently forward. The contrast to the pitiful, cringing royal counselor of Rohan could not be greater. Now he had the bearing of a star.

As Debbie and Denethor sat down to eat, Saruman struck a loud chord on his instrument. "Ladies and gentlemen...well, lady and gentleman..." he boomed, "We are Fires of Industry and we are here to rock your world!" He looked over at Debbie. "That is the way it's done, isn't it, Lady Debbie?" he added in a loud whisper. Debbie gave him a thumbs-up sign.

Gríma stepped forward. "Our first song is 'Come on, Baby, Light My Fire.'" He began to sing as Debbie and the Steward ate.

As the seductive music started up in the background, Debbie and Denethor locked eyes across the dinner table. Debbie selected a grape and daintly bit into it. Denethor responded by grabbing a cherry tomato and biting it in half so that the juice dribbled down his chin.

Debbie took a sip of wine. Denethor downed a whole goblet full, spilling some on himself in the process.

Without looking down, Debbie picked up a chicken leg and nibbled it delicately. She inserted it into her mouth, closed her lips around the bone, and sucked on the meat. In a frenzy, Denethor grabbed an entire breast of the bird and tore hungrily into its flesh.

Finally Debbie took a cherry. Gazing at Denethor the entire time, she popped the sweet fruit into her mouth, stem and all. She worked her mouth in a sensuous fashion for several moments, and then stuck out her delicate pink tongue. The cherry stem, tied in a perfect knot, rested on it.

The napkin fell from Denethor's lap as he stood. He motioned vaguely at the band without taking his eyes off Debbie. "Leave us," he said huskily. As Fires of Industry hurried out the door, Denethor whipped the cloth and all its contents off the table. The dishes fell to the floor with an almighty clatter as he bent Debbie back onto the tabletop.

*******

Some time later, Debbie reclined on the table (which was really surprisingly comfortable) and traced little patterns on Denethor's chest. "You know," she said casually, "you have a very good sense of rhythm."

"Mmm," said Denethor lazily. He was lying on his back with his eyes closed, looking twenty years younger.

"And I can tell this job really stresses you out," Debbie continued.

"Mm-hmmm," said Denethor.

"I hear Fires of Industry is looking for a bass player."

Denethor opened one eye and looked at her. "Really?" For the first time in a long while, a smile crossed his lips.

*******

NEXT CHAPTER:  Will Debbie the White and friends make it in time for the Battle of the Pelennor Fields?


Chapter 8 - The Lady is a Champ

A ship with ominous black sails made its way up the Anduin. To all appearances, it was carrying allies of Sauron. In reality, however, its crew consisted of one Elf, one Dwarf, one future King of Men, about a hundred undead soldiers, and one Debbie.

Aragorn paced the deck, muttering under his breath: "My sword ... my oath ... my kingdom ... my plan ... my way!"

"My sanity!" sniffed Legolas. "Will you please stop sulking? The Dead came with us, didn't they?"

"Yes, and we're grateful that you invited us," said the King of the Dead, whom Debbie had nicknamed 'Garcia.' "It's been a long time since we've been out of the mountain."

"You were supposed to follow me!" Aragorn protested. "I have the sword of Kings."

"Impressive sword...impressive bosom...which would you rather follow?" Legolas asked.

Aragorn had to admit the Elf had him there.

"We're coming within sight of Minas Tirith!" Debbie sang out from her perch in the crow's nest. She was gazing to the northeast, shading her eyes with one delicate hand while her white fur-trimmed nightie blew fetchingly in the breeze.

"Legolas, get up there and tell me what your Elf-eyes can see from here," Aragorn instructed. "I only hope we're not too late!"

Legolas needed no second bidding to squeeze into a confined space with Debbie. He scrambled gracefully up the rigging and climbed into the snug little crow's nest, grasping Debbie around the waist for balance. Aragorn tapped his foot on the deck as he waited anxiously for a report, but there was only a long pause, finally broken by a giggle from Debbie.

"Legolas!" the future King shouted. "You're up there for a reason! Don't forget it!"

"I haven't," Legolas called back.

Debbie giggled again.

"The city, Legolas! Is it under attack?"

There was another long pause and then Debbie's voice drifted down: "Um, it's over there, Legolas."

Finally the Elf responded: "The big white thing on the mountainside? It looks fine."

"What exactly does 'fine' mean?" Aragorn called back nervously.

"Well, it's still standing," Legolas replied. "There seem to be some burned-out siege towers and things around it. And some dead oliphaunts. I don't see anything moving."

"Then we are too late," Aragorn cried forlornly. He sank to his knees on the deck, tossing aside his lengthy sword, which narrowly missed Gimli at the helm.

"Watch where you're swinging that thing, laddie," the Dwarf reproved. "Most times I wouldn't object, but just now I'm trying to steer us into port."

"What does it matter?" moaned Aragorn in despair. "All is lost!"

Slowly, the ship glided into the dock. The party disembarked, looking for any signs of life and finding none--with the exception of two familiar-looking horses quietly cropping grass. One had a scabbard of truly impressive length attached to its saddle.

"Brego!" shouted Aragorn joyfully. He ran forward to pat his faithful steed's nose.

"Well, there's a spot of luck," said Gimli.

"You can sheathe your sword now," Legolas contributed with a smirk.

Aragorn ignored him.

They mounted the horses, Debbie riding with Aragorn and Gimli swinging up behind Legolas. With the Dead Army following silently behind, they rode toward the White City. The field was generously littered with dead orcs and other allies of Sauron, but they did not see another living soul until they were nearly at the city gates. Then a great clamor could be heard inside the walls.

"I hear a noise," observed Legolas.

"Perhaps the battle is continuing inside the city," suggested Gimli.

"I knew we came too late," moaned Aragorn.

"I could swear they're singing 'We are the Champions,'" said Debbie.

At that moment several familiar voices called down to them from the city walls. "Hey, guys! Come on in and join the party!" chirped Debbie the Red, waving enthusiastically.

Aragorn looked stunned. "You mean we won? And I missed the whole thing?"

Éomer's face, wearing a broad grin, appeared beside Debbie the Red's. "I've paid you back for Helm's Deep, my friend," he called out good-naturedly. "Come and have some ale!"

Aragorn turned back to look at the mass of superfluous glowing soldiers behind him. "It seems ... we won't be needing your services after all, I'm afraid," he said apologetically. "You can go now."

"Sod that," said the nearest Dead soldier. "We're going to the party."

"Hear, hear," muttered the rest of them.

"Right, men...CHARGE!" yelled Garcia as his undead regiment stormed straight up the walls.

Being more substantial, the rest of the party waited for the city gates to open.

*******

After several cups of ale, Aragorn's mood had improved considerably. The fact that he was lying back with his head in Debbie the Red's lap and finishing up the Fangorn oysters helped as well. The two of them, along with Debbie the Purple, Théoden, Éomer, Legolas, Gandalf, Merry, and Pippin, had found a relatively quiet spot away from the celebrations where they could catch up on the news. Gimli and the Dead soldiers had joined the revelers in the streets, while Debbie the White had gone off somewhere with a couple of handsome Gondorian guardsmen named Beregond and Irolas. Somewhere in the distance, Fires of Industry played yet another chorus of "We are the Champions."

"So tell me...how did you manage to defeat the Witch King?" Aragorn asked as he helped himself to another oyster.

"Oh, that was easy," said Debbie the Purple as she refilled King Théoden's glass. "I discovered that nazgûl are quite susceptible to nudity. So all we had to do was corner him..."

"I helped," said Merry proudly. "I spread a trail of lacy undergarments across the field, leading up to a tent pitched right by the city walls."

"And when he went in, he found three beautiful naked women waiting for him," finished Gandalf with a chuckle.

"You should've heard him scream," said Pippin enthusiastically.

"He just imploded right then and there," said Debbie the Purple. "There was nothing left except a pile of empty armor."

"Although I'm sure he died with a smile on his face," said Debbie the Red. "Or he would have, if he had a face."

Aragorn thought for a moment. "Wait a moment ... three women? Weren't there only two of you?"

"Éowyn helped," explained Debbie the Red.

Aragorn sat up and looked around nervously. "Where is Éowyn, by the way?" He didn't particularly want to see the shieldmaiden at the moment.

Debbie the Purple giggled. "I introduced her to Boromir's little brother. They've really hit it off."

"And thanks to the vats of pepper spray mixed according to Debbie's formula," continued Gandalf proudly, "we suffered not a single casualty."

"Except my laptop," added Debbie the Red sadly. "An oliphaunt stepped on it."

"And I missed it," Aragorn wailed, burying his face in his hands. "I missed it all. Some future King of Men I am."

"At least you still have your sword," said Legolas consolingly.

Théoden snickered.

"If I hadn't gone on a wild goose chase to get the Dead army, I could've made it," Aragorn sulked. "Now I'm stuck here with a bunch of useless glowing soldiers..."

"No, not useless," said Debbie the Red. "We'll need them for the assault on the Black Gates."

Aragorn looked at her blankly. "What assault on the Black Gates?"

Debbie the Purple grinned at him. "Here's the plan..."

*******

NEXT CHAPTER: Showdown at the Black Gates!


Chapter 9 - Ladies of the Dance

The Black Gates marking the boundary between Gondor and Mordor were large, spiky, and ... black. Nothing seemed to be moving inside. The gigantic structure towered imposingly over the landscape, dwarfing the small but heroic army huddled at its base.

Aragorn, dressed in new and kingly armor, surveyed the gates from where he sat atop his horse at the front of the army. Behind him were various and sundry other leaders of the anti-Mordor alliance: Gandalf, Théoden, Legolas, Gimli, Éomer, Merry, Pippin, Faramir, Éowyn, Rick Cottontree, and the entire Army of the Dead, led by King Garcia. In the rear of the company was a strange covered wagon, painted with bright mystical symbols. The Ladies Debbie had arranged for it, and they had spent the entire journey from Minas Tirith inside. Muffin the Wonder-Horse was quietly cropping grass nearby.

Now the entire army was looking at Aragorn expectantly, and he knew they were waiting for him to do something regal. Taking a deep breath, he rode up to the gates and shouted in his best kingly voice: "Let the Lord of the Black Land come forth!" Ever hopeful, he drew his impressive sword for emphasis.

There was a long pause. Aragorn was on the verge of turning around and explaining that Sauron didn't seem to be home and they'd have to try again later when the head of a hideous creature in a fantastic helmet popped over the top of the Black Gate.

"I am the Mouth of Sauron!" the creature shouted through a mouthful of ridiculously large teeth. "Who do you think you are, asking my master to come out just for you?"

"I am Aragorn, King of the Gondorians," Aragorn called up. "And I know your master seeks a certain Ring." He looked smug, knowing this would be certain to get Sauron's attention.

"He's already got one," the creature answered rudely.

Aragorn hadn't expected this. "What? But--but--there's only one Ring of Power! It's called the One Ring for a reason!"

"I said he's already got one! It's very nice!"

Éomer and Éowyn looked uneasily at each other.

"Well--" Aragorn sputtered uncertainly. "Can I come up and have a look at it?"

"No! Your mother was a goblin and your father smelt of miruvor," shouted the Mouth. "And with that ridiculous sword, you've obviously compensating for something! Now go away, or I shall taunt you a second time!" He made a dismissive gesture.

"Oh, please ask him to come out and talk to me," Aragorn begged.

The Mouth let out a loud sigh. "All right, I will ask, you silly Gondorian pig-dog. But I don't think he'll be very keen." The head disappeared.

Aragorn turned back to the assembled army, beaming at having accomplished his goal. It was time for a motivational speech, he decided. "This is it, my friends," he began confidently. "The final battle will soon begin. Someday we're all going to die, and today seems like a good day for it. Let's go!"

The army did not look particularly inspired. There was some grumbling in the ranks, which quieted as Debbie the White emerged from the painted wagon. "That wasn't very motivational," she called, rolling her eyes. "Let me talk to them!" She leapt onto Muffin's back and rode up to take Aragorn's place in front of the army. Every soldier suddenly seemed to stand more firmly, as if given fresh courage just by looking at her exquisite form. Gazing cheerfully at the assembled troops, Debbie began her speech.

"Remember some important things," she said brightly. "Remember we're the good guys. Remember we've got an unbeatable undead army with us." The Dead soldiers cheered at this. "Remember I've read the book and I know how it ends. Remember that the other Lady Debbies and I have a secret plan." She winked. "So, maybe you're going to die one of these days, but I promise this is not that day. In conclusion, I'd like to quote a very wise person from my world: If you get the choice to sit it out or dance, I hope you dance. Let's dance, everybody. And by 'dance,' I mean 'kick Mordor's butt'!" She pumped her fist in the air triumphantly and Muffin reared up on his hind legs. A massive cheer rose up from the assembled Armies of the West as she galloped back to the wagon, her chestnut hair streaming out behind her.

Rick Cottontree was waiting there. "That was beautiful, Lady Debbie!" he told her breathlessly.

"Thank you, Rick." She slid gracefully off the horse's back. "Now, look after Muffin for me, would you? I'm going to ... be a little busy for a while." And before Rick could ask any more questions, she nipped inside the wagon.

Meanwhile, Aragorn re-took his place at the head of the army as the Black Gates slowly creaked open. The barren wasteland of Mordor stretched out ahead. Rank upon rank of orcs, trolls, and other allies of Sauron were ranged back as far as the eye could see. In the distance, Mount Doom spewed fire. Looming over it all was an enormous tower topped by a gigantic yellow-orange ball of flame: the Eye of Sauron. It swept over the pitifully small army assembled at the gates and finally came to rest on the man riding at the forefront.

Aragorn drew his sword to show the Dark Lord his defiance. And then, inside his head, he heard a hollow, rusty sound. It took him a moment to realize what it was: Sauron was snickering.

"Aragorn ... El-les-sar ..." The ghostly whisper resounded in his brain. "I think you're compensating for something."

Something seemed to snap inside Aragorn's brain. All of his frustrations suddenly burst forth. "EXCUSE ME?" he screamed toward the distant menace. "Pot calling kettle, don't you think? You're a giant flaming eyeball on top of a two-thousand foot tower!"

"Psst ... your majesty ..." Faramir whispered urgently.

"And there's an ERUPTING VOLCANO behind you! If that's not symbolism, I don't know what is!" Aragorn was standing in the stirrups now and waving his sword for emphasis.

"Aragorn!" barked Gandalf. Aragorn turned and blinked at the wizard. "You said that out loud," Gandalf informed him.

Aragorn slumped down in the saddle, dropped his head into his palm, and groaned loudly.

"I don't have time to talk to you right now," the voice inside Aragorn's head continued. "I need to concentrate on ... more important things." The eyeball's gaze roved off in the general direction of Mount Doom.

This could only mean one thing. "Sauron has discovered Lady Debbie and the Hobbits," he whispered to the others in despair. "A battle now would be in vain."

"What can we do?" Théoden asked uneasily.

Merry and Pippin grinned at each other. "The secret weapon!" they chorused, and hurried back toward the painted wagon.

Aragorn looked up. New confidence surged through his veins. "I believe you are right, my friends!" He dismounted from his horse and stepped out several paces in front of his troops. Lifting his sword once more (Elbereth, but it was heavy!), he faced Barad-dur and cried out in ringing tones: "Behold, everyone! I have brought something you cannot help but watch!"

"If it's that fool sword again, forget it." Sauron sounded distracted.

Aragorn continued as if he had not spoken. "Ladies and gentlemen--orcs, trolls, and especially disembodied Dark Lords--may I present the one, the only--Fires of Industry! Joined by their special guests, the Ladies Debbie! Live! And! In! Person!"

With a flourish of the sword, Aragorn stepped aside. Behind him, the Armies of the West parted in perfect formation to reveal that the sides of the mysterious wagon had opened out to form a stage. Saruman the Many-Colored walked out in front of the curtain to thunderous applause, flashed a peace sign to the audience, and took his place at a small portable organ at one side of the stage. He was followed by Rigli Studtongue, carrying a lute, and Denethor, hauling an enormous double bass. At a signal from Saruman, Merry and Pippin pulled on the ropes to raise the curtain. There on a brightly-painted platform stood Debbie the Red, Debbie the White, and Debbie the Purple. They were clasping spangled robes tightly around their bodies, showing off the curves underneath.

A collective gasp went up from the combined armies of Mordor, Gondor, and Rohan. Sauron's eye swiveled back abruptly and locked onto the stage. For a long moment everything was still and silent. Then the Mouth of Sauron's head popped up over the top of the Black Gates. "TAKE IT OFF!" he hooted loudly.

Debbie the Purple gave him a radiant smile and a wink. "Don't mind if we do," she said.

Debbie the Red nodded to Fires of Industry. "Hit it, boys."

As the first chords of music sounded, the three Debbies slowly opened their robes in perfect synchronization. Underneath, they were wearing fine chain mail bikinis, lightly tinted in the appropriate colors ... and nothing else.

The Eye of Sauron abruptly expanded to approximately twice its original size. If there had been a Tongue of Sauron, it would certainly have been hanging out.

The Debbies began to move in perfect unison as they sang:

"STOP! In the name of love!
Before you break my heart ..."

And all the forces of Mordor did stop, completely mesmerized by the Debbies' performance. Aragorn could have sworn he heard a wolf-whistle in the whisper of his mind.

Gimli edged over to where Legolas and Aragorn stood watching the show. "I've got to hand it to those young ladies," he murmured appreciatively. "The only thing that could possibly distract Sauron from the whereabouts of one Lady Debbie is three Lady Debbies."

Legolas nodded without tearing his gaze away. "It's a brilliant diversion."

"Let us hope it will be enough," sighed Gandalf, as his eyes followed the gyrations of Debbie the Red.

*******

NEXT CHAPTER: So what is going on at Mount Doom, anyway?


Chapter 10 - Lady Fingers

Frodo, Sam, Gollum, and Debbie the Black walked across the plains of Mordor. Frodo trailed a little behind the others, gazing around at the desolate landscape. Monotonous stone and scrubby tufts of grass alternated out to the horizon, where the blazing Eye of Sauron watched them from atop its horned tower. Ahead, the dark shape of Mount Doom coughed out occasional gobs of flame against the sky.

Suddenly Debbie yelped. "There's a rock in my boot," she explained, wrinkling her dainty nose. "Let's stop for a moment."

The four of them sat down by some convenient large rocks while Debbie removed her boot. (She had discarded the sandals upon leaving the labyrinth, since one of them was covered in spider brains.)

Sam rested happily against the tall rock which screened them from Sauron's view. "I don't mind telling you, I'm glad to get away from that Eye," he commented. "It's worse than being watched by Gollum, here."

Gollum made a face at him, but said nothing.

"I guess I hadn't noticed," Debbie responded absently. "But then, I'm sort of used to men looking at me. I was a model, you know, in my own world."

Frodo was seized by a sudden dread. "Don't you ever want to go home, Lady Debbie?" Losing her was the saddest thing he could imagine, and yet the thought of her being unhappy was equally unbearable. He waiting anxiously for her answer.

"Oh, it would be nice, I suppose, eventually. But right now I have a job to do and I'm happy being here with all of you." Debbie flashed him a dazzling smile, and suddenly everything seemed all right again.

When Lady Debbie's boot was replaced, they started off again. Frodo thought something seemed different, somehow, but he couldn't quite place it...

"He's not watching us now," Sam pointed out happily. Sure enough, the Eye of Sauron had swiveled off toward the west.

"I guess he thought we were going to camp for the night," said Debbie. "Never mind, that'll just make this easier. Let's go!"

*******

At the Black Gates, the Ladies Debbie held their audience in the palm of their collective hand as Fires of Industry swung into a rendition of "Lady Marmalade":

"Where's are all my soul sisters?
Let me hear you flow sisters
Hey sister, go sister, soul sister, flow sister..."

*******

Debbie the Black and her friends stood at the base of Mount Doom. Tilting their heads back, they could see an opening in the side of the mountain. A narrow, rocky, but not particularly steep trail led up to it.

"Well, this is it, boys," Debbie announced with a sunny smile. "Just a little push and then we'll be done."

Sam shook his head in amazement. "I can't believe we're nearly there already."

"Boromir made it sound like a much harder journey at the Council," Frodo agreed.

"Boromir's always been a bit of a pessimist," Debbie said fondly.

"Still," continued Frodo, "when I think of all the things that might have happened..."

"Like what?" asked Debbie.

"We might have been bitten by that huge spider for a start," answered Frodo, shivering at the idea.

"Or been captured by orcs," put in Sam.

"Or run out of food and water," said Frodo.

"Or been captured by orcs," said Sam.

"Or fallen off a cliff," said Frodo.

"Or been cap--"

"I see Boromir isn't the only pessimist," Debbie said with a laugh, ruffling Sam's hair. "But here we are--safe, sound, and healthy. All we have to do is climb a little further and then we'll be done." She looked down at Gollum. "You know, Sméagol, you can go if you want. I think we can find the way from here."

Gollum shook his head vigorously and threw his skinny arms around Debbie's shapely knees. "No, no! Good Sméagol will stay with Lady Debbie and nice hobbitses! Please don't send Sméagol away!" He turned his watery eyes pitifully up to her.

Debbie relented. "Oh, all right." Gollum instantly capered about joyfully. Debbie took Frodo and Sam's hands. "Here we go, then!" They started up the mountain, with Gollum loping cheerily on ahead.

*******

Is it in his eyes?" sang Debbie the Red and Debbie the Purple in perfect harmony.

"Oh no! You need to see!" Debbie the White warbled in response.

"Is it in his size?"

"Oh no! You make believe!"

The Debbies gyrated ever-more-seductively to Fires of Industry's accompaniment. The audience had become somewhat more active. Some were dancing along to the music. Some had locked arms and begun swaying. Others, seated on the ground, were passing around jugs of something. Still others had lit thin tapers and were waving them in time to the music, causing the Debbies' chainmail bikinis to sparkle with reflected light. And the great Eye of Sauron remained glued to the spectacle.

"If you wanna know
If he loves you so
Its in his kiss!"

"That's where it is!"

*******

Debbie the Black stood poised on a rock spur high above a sea of boiling lava. The Ring on its chain dangled from her outstretched fingertips. Frodo, Sam, and Gollum stood back a short distance, holding their breaths and admiring the magnificent picture she made silhouetted against the warm glow of lava-light. Time seemed to stretch on forever. Then slowly, Debbie turned around, an evil grin lighting her features.

"You know, I kind of like this Ring," she purred. "I think I'll keep it."

*******

"It's the end of the world as we know it,
It's the end of the world as we know it..."

One of Rigli Studtongue's lute strings snapped. Denethor and Saruman kept up a bass-and-organ vamp as he frantically pulled a new one from his pocket. He restrung the lute at top speed, stealing a glance at the dancing Debbies as he did so. They still seemed fresh, but how long could they keep it up?

*******

The hobbits and Gollum stood frozen, mouths open, gazing in horror at Debbie the Black. She seemed fierce and terrible, a fiery being of immeasurable power...and then she giggled.

"Just kidding."

She tossed the Ring backward over her shoulder. There was a soft plop as it landed in the molten lava far below. The others, however, did not hear it. They had simultaneously fainted from shock.

*******

"It's the end of the world as we know it,
It's the end of the world as we know it,
It's the end of the world as we know it, and I feel fine!"

The last chords of the song mingled with a sudden loud rumble from the east. Mount Doom began erupting.

"And he calls me a show-off," Aragorn muttered.

The Tower of Barad-dur shook violently and, with an almighty crack, split in half. The Eye of Sauron stretched and then seemed to pop like a soap bubble. The tower collapsed.

A deafening cheer went up from the assembled armies at the gate. "DEBBIE!"

*******

NEXT CHAPTER: Frodo sees visions, Aragorn prepares for his coronation, and Legolas wants a rematch.


Chapter 11 - Ladies and Gentlemen

Frodo woke up slowly. He seemed to be lying in quite a comfortable bed, which told him he wasn't at Mount Doom any more. But where was he?

Experimentally he touched the sheets. Fine linen. Definitely not Mount Doom. He decided it was safe to risk opening one eye.

Beside his bed stood a truly radiant vision: the Lady Debbie, but not dressed in her familiar black silk teddy or in the borrowed shirt and hobbit pants she'd been wearing on the journey. Now she wore a brief, fur-trimmed garment of sparkling white which seemed to stir and cling to her body with the slightest breath of air.

"Welcome, Frodo," she breathed joyfully.

There was only one possible explanation: they were both dead. Frodo promptly fainted again.

*******

Consciousness returned, and Frodo tried once more to sort out his jumbled thoughts. He and Lady Debbie were dead; he remembered that much. Strangely, he hadn't seen Sam or Gollum...though he wasn't really sure he wanted to see Gollum in a white, fur-trimmed loincloth. Well, an afterlife where he had Lady Debbie all to himself might not be a bad thing, as long as he was corporeal enough to do something about it. He rubbed his fingers together; they seemed solid.

There was a sound like someone daintily clearing her throat. Frodo opened his eyes...and looked straight into the faces of no fewer than four Lady Debbies, who were all bending over him.

"He's awake!" they squealed in unison and piled onto the bed, trying to hug and tickle him.

Being dead was one thing, but now he was clearly hallucinating as well. Frodo whimpered softly and slipped into unconsciousness again.

*******

The next time Frodo opened his eyes, there was only one Lady Debbie sitting at his bedside, dressed in red. She spoke quickly.

"Frodo! Hang in there!"

"What's the point?" he moaned. "I'm dead."

"No, you're not. You're in the hospital in Minas Tirith. You seem to be perfectly fine, except that you keep fainting."

"I'm...fine?"

Now that he thought about it, there was really no reason for him to be dead. Lady Debbie had destroyed the Ring, after all, and then there had been the eagles...but then, how to explain the strange things he'd been seeing?

"There must be something wrong with my eyes," he said. "I keep seeing three or four of you."

Lady Debbie gave a musical laugh. "No, no, your eyes are just fine, Frodo. I can explain..."

At that moment, there was the sound of a wizard clearing his throat rather loudly. "Erm...Lady Debbie?" said Gandalf from the doorway. "Could I see you for a moment?"

Frodo, meanwhile, was dealing with the news that not only was he not dead, but his eyes were apparently working quite well. And the proximity of Lady Debbie confirmed to him that...other parts of his body were in perfect working order also. He touched her arm.

"Please don't go," he begged.

"You should be having a nap," said Gandalf severely. "I'm sure you're weak from starvation..."

"No, no, Lady Debbie had nutty bars," Frodo explained.

"Or thirst," said Gandalf.

"No, I'm fine."

"Then you're suffering from exhaustion."

"It's really not so bad..."

Debbie the Red patted Frodo's hand. "I'll be back in a moment," she whispered, and went to see what Gandalf wanted.

Frodo lay back, feeling sulky. His stomach rumbled, reminding him that it too was in need of satisfaction. So the sight of Debbie the Black entering his room with a tray of food a few moments later was extremely welcome.

"I heard you were awake," she said cheerfully. "I thought you might like some lunch."

"Lunch and more," said Frodo with a wink. "But first, tell me what's going on here..."

*******

Later that afternoon and elsewhere in the city, plans were underway for Aragorn's coronation. All four Debbies, Gandalf, Legolas, Gimli, and Faramir were meeting with the future king to finalize the arrangements.

"Fires of Industry have agreed to play for your coronation ball," said Debbie the White, making a neat checkmark on a long list she'd been making on a sheet of parchment.

"I've been talking to the palace chefs about the menu for the banquet," said Debbie the Purple, leaning over the White's shoulder and pointing a delicate finger at an item further down the page.

"I've got the cutest idea for centerpieces for the banquet tables," added Debbie the Black.

Legolas sidled over to Gimli. "Care for a rematch? First one to get all four?" he asked in a low voice.

"Any time you like, laddie," Gimli muttered out the side of his mouth. "May the best Dwarf win."

"I'm sure the best Elf will," Legolas answered confidently.

"I found a suit of royal armor that would be just perfect for you to wear," said Debbie the Red to Aragorn. "It'll show off your manly physique."

Faramir cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Er, that reminds me, your majesty," he began. "May I suggest that you do not wear that sword at your coronation?"

"And why not?" said Aragorn suspiciously. He drew the sword and looked at it proudly.

Faramir turned red and looked as if he wished he were somewhere else. "People may think you are, er, compensating for something."

"What do I have to do to prove I'm not! Drop my pants in the middle of the ceremony?"

"I think your dignity has suffered enough, sire..."

Just then, the door opened and Éowyn walked in. "Hello, Aragorn," she said rather coolly as she passed him. "Faramir, could I talk to you for a moment?"

Éowyn grabbed Faramir's hand; he glanced back over his shoulder and shrugged slightly in apology as she led him to a corner at the far end of the room. They conferred in whispers for a few moments, and then suddenly the shieldmaiden seized the steward's collar and planted a deep kiss on his mouth.

"I still cannot see why Éowyn prefers him to me," Aragorn muttered sulkily.

"She did catch you red-handed with Gimli," Debbie the White pointed out.

"Or at least red-faced," added Debbie the Red.

"But how could she dump me? I'm the King!"

"What about Arwen?" asked Debbie the Purple.

"Yes, what about Arwen?" called another voice from the open doorway.

Aragorn turned. His mouth dropped open and his eyes grew wide...probably in delight, although the resulting expression made him look distinctly like a goldfish. For there stood none other than Arwen Evenstar herself, with her father, Lord Elrond, behind her.

Pleased with the effect of her dramatic entrance, Arwen shrieked happily and threw her arms around Aragorn's neck. "I begged and begged and Daddy finally said we can get married! Aren't you happy?"

Aragorn stood stiffly and did not return Arwen's embrace. He seemed to struggle between being pleased and offended. "I'm not terribly happy to learn that you've been giving these"--indicating the Evenstar pendant around his neck--"to everyone and his brother," he growled. "Am I the only man in Middle-Earth that you haven't slept with?"

"Silly!" giggled Arwen. "I was saving you for my wedding night. It's meant to be special, after all." She glanced down at the sword in his hand. "Would you put that away? It looks like you're compensating for something." Suddenly, as if struck by a thought, she raised her eyebrows at the Debbies. "Is he?"

"LOOK, SOMETIMES A SWORD IS JUST A SWORD!" Aragorn exploded.

In the tense pause that followed, Rick Cottontree strolled into the room. "Hello, everyone," he called out cheerily. "I just wanted to let you that Sam and I have been baking up some wonderful blueberry pies in the kitchen, if anyone wants a slice."

Aragorn took a deep breath to calm himself and started to sheathe his sword. Rick glanced admiringly at the lengthy blade. "Wow, that's a nice--"

"Go away," Aragorn ordered in a dangerously calm tone.

"No, I mean it!" Rick protested. "It's a really nice--"

"As the future King, I'm ordering you to GET OUT OF HERE!"

"What's the matter with him?" Rick whispered to Debbie the Red.

She patted him on the shoulder. "The sword is a touchy subject."

Meanwhile, Debbie the Purple sidled over to where Elrond stood watching the scene with a suspiciously innocent expression.

"You made the sword that big on purpose, didn't you?" she asked in an undertone.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Elrond murmured back.

*******

NEXT CHAPTER: An unexpected visitor arrives for Aragorn's coronation ... and will Debbie go home at last?


Chapter 12 - Luck Be a Lady Tonight

"Ladies and gentlemen, Fires of Industry is proud to introduce our new drummer! Please welcome...SMÉAGOL!"

A scrawny figure bounced onto the stage, waved to the crowd, and took its place behind a giant drum set. Saruman and Denethor struck up an intro, and Rigli Studtongue launched into his first song, now backed by a throbbing beat:

"I...I will be king
And you...you will be queen..."

The coronation ball was underway.

The cream of Middle-Earth society had shown up for Aragorn's coronation. The Rohirrim were still camped out around the city. The glowing green Army of the Dead was still wandering the streets of Minas Tirith, occasionally frightening people who turned corners too quickly. Galadriel and Celeborn had arrived from Lothlórien, accompanied by Haldir. The Twins had come from Rivendell, having decided to postpone their trip West until they could see Debbie one last time. Even Treebeard was there. It was a party the likes of which had not been seen since the Second Age.

Five of the guests of honor, however, arrived somewhat late. The four Debbies and Gimli dashed in at the last moment, looking rather disheveled. The Dwarf shot a smug glance at Legolas; Legolas glared back in response, stamped his foot, and stalked off toward the refreshment tables. He had to fight his way past several hungry hobbits in order to get any food.

"Attention, please!" Rigli Studtongue held up his hands. "Fires of Industry would like to dedicate our next song to someone who's been very important to all of us. In fact, it's no exaggeration to say that Fires of Industry would not exist if it hadn't been for her. Let's all give a big hand to...Lady Debbie!"

He winked roguishly at Debbie the White. Saruman grinned and flashed a peace-sign at Debbie the Red. Denethor blew a kiss to Debbie the Purple. Sméagol waved his drumsticks enthusiastically at Debbie the Black.

"This is for you, Lady Debbie," said Rigli. "For all of you." And he began to sing:

"She can kill with a smile,
She can wound with her eyes,
She can take down an orc,
No matter what size,
And her hair's always perfect,
A wonder to see;
But that's all in a regular day
For the Lady Debbie!

Oh, and she never tires out,
And she'll always pitch in
When there's work to be done
Oh, she'll take care of your needs,
And help you get what you want,
And she'll make it all fun!

There's no task that's beneath her
There's no feat that's above her
And when all's said and done,
You just can't help but love her
If you need any proof,
Look no further than me;
Let the cynics pooh-pooh
'She's too good to be true,'
But I tell you, that's Lady Debbie!"

The Debbies circulated through the crowd, gaining as much attention as the newly-crowned king...or possibly more. Everyone seemed to have something to say to her.

"Thank you for uniting us," said Arwen, squeezing Aragorn.

"Thank you for introducing us," said Éowyn, squeezing Faramir.

"I'm sure you saved our lives a hundred times," Merry told Debbie the Red.

Pippin, whose mouth was full, nodded vigorously in agreement.

Háma shook Debbie the White's hand. "How can I ever thank you for saving my life?"

"You saved not only my life, but my sanity," King Théoden added grandly. "In fact, I have decided to create a completely new distinction just for you. From now on, you shall be known in Rohan as the Shieldmaiden Supreme!"

Debbie looked pleased. "Thanks! I've always liked Taco Bell."

*******

"You must've saved our lives about a thousand times out there, Miss Debbie," Sam said earnestly to Debbie the Black.

"And you saved my finger," Frodo added with a shudder. "Thanks for warning me about that."

"Oh, it was nothing," Debbie said modestly. "And now that I know what you can do with those fingers, I'm even more glad to save them!"

*******

"Not only did you save my life, but you saved me from having to wear that dreadful red cape," Haldir told Debbie the Purple. "I am eternally grateful--and, being an Elf, I do mean eternally."

*******

"Thank you for saving my country," Éomer said to Debbie the White. "But next time, leave a few orcs for me, all right?"

"I didn't know you fancied orcs," Debbie giggled.

*******

Elladan drew Debbie the Purple aside privately. "So who kisses better, me or my brother?"

"You do," she whispered, "but don't tell him I said that."

*******

Debbie the Black found Legolas sulking in a corner, scowling at a plate of hors d'oeuvres. "Why so gloomy?"

"You know. Gimli." The Elf picked up a miniature sausage on a toothpick and bit into it savagely.

"Oh...well, he asked very nicely. You're not jealous, are you?"

"Of course not. It's just..." He looked at her with big puppy-dog eyes. "You're the only one I haven't tried."

"Is that all? That's easy to fix, you know!"

Legolas paused only long enough to purloin a tub of whipped cream from the refreshment table before allowing her to lead him out of the hall.

*******

"Hoom," said Treebeard to Debbie the Red. "I have not had so much fun since I was a young sapling making buraroom with the Entwives..."

*******

Elrohir cornered Debbie the Purple. "So," he asked, "who kisses better--me or my brother?"

"You do," she assured him, "but don't tell him I said that."

*******

A green shimmer announced the presence of Garcia beside Debbie the White. "My men and I thank you for giving us a new direction in our lives...er, so to speak."

"What will you do now that the war's over?"

"Well, we all quite enjoyed our time on the ship. We thought maybe we'd take up a spot of piracy..."

*******

Galadriel greeted Debbie the Purple with something approaching respect. "I know what you did," she said coolly. "And I'll forgive you...if you teach me some of those tricks you used."

Celeborn sought her out separately. "It was worth it," he whispered in her ear. "It was soooooo worth it."

*******

"I have composed a short...hoom...ode dedicated to you, which I hope to read later for the company. It is but a trifle, a mere two hundred and thirty-six verses..."

*******

"Arr," said Garcia experimentally.

"That's good, but try hitting the 'r' a little harder," Debbie the White suggested.

"Arrrrrr."

"Much better!"

*******

"Elrond, I've got a present for you." Debbie the Purple opened her ever-present shoulderbag and drew out her laptop. "I thought you might like to play Tetris when you go to the Undying Lands."

Elrond gaped. "This is too great a gift!"

"Oh, one of me's still got one--the Black, I think," Debbie told him with a wave of her hand. "Just be sure to leave it out in the sun sometimes so the solar battery can recharge."

Reverently, Elrond took the computer. "Now I shall possess wisdom that no other Elf has ever seen," he breathed. "I only have one final question for you..."

"Sure, what is it?"

He cleared his throat. "Erm...who kisses better--me or my sons?"

"You do," she told him with a wink. "But don't tell them I said that."

*******

Rick Cottontree bounced up to Debbie the Red with the four Hobbits in tow. "Guess what?" he said brightly. "Sam says I can come back to the Shire with him and help him look after Mr. Frodo's garden!"

"Just remember, I've got dibs on Estella Bolger," Merry warned him. “That is, unless Lady Debbie would care to..."

But his offer was lost, for at that moment, Gandalf stepped to the center of the hall and raised his hands for attention.

"Middle-Earth has now been reunited," he announced impressively. "Only one thing remains divided...or rather, one person. The time has come to reunite the Lady Debbie with...herself. Ladies Debbie, please step forward!" A hush fell over the crowd as three Debbies came to stand in front of the wizard. After a short pause, Legolas re-entered with the fourth.

"Now," Gandalf continued, "if you'll accompany me to someplace where we can be alone..."

"I've already done that," shouted Gimli. "It didn't work--at least, not in the way you mean."

Gandalf coughed. "Oh, very well, then. We'll have to do it the boring way."

He raised his staff high over his head and began to chant in some strange language. There was a brilliant flash of light, and the various figures of Debbie seemed to meld and merge. When the light faded, a single Debbie stood before the wizard. She wore a brief garment which seemed made up of all her previous outfits: it was made of lavender-grey silk, trimmed with fur at the bottom and lace at the neck, and it hugged every curve of her luscious body like a merrywidow.

"I am Debbie the Grey," she announced dreamily.

There was a ripple of applause from the crowd.

Just then, a loud voice resounded from the back of the hall.

"WHAT IN BLAZES IS GOING ON HERE?"

All heads simultaneously turned toward the door. There stood a tall, blond figure dressed in blue and red, carrying a large horn at his side.

"Boromir! You're alive!" shouted Faramir, rushing forward to greet him.

"Of course I am," Boromir answered. "But I fell asleep in my boat and drifted about a hundred miles too far downstream. I've had to walk back. What did I miss?"

"You missed my coronation, for one thing," said Aragorn.

"Your WHAT? But...what about Father?"

"He's, ah, retired." Faramir pointed to the bandstage, where Denethor was performing an energetic bass solo.

Boromir gaped. "Somebody is going to have to explain a lot of things to me."

Éomer patted the Gondorian consolingly on the shoulder. "I know exactly how you feel."

"How do we know that scruffy Ranger is the king?" Boromir continued, seeming not to have heard.

Aragorn, patted the hilt of Narsil. "I've got the sword, for starters."

Boromir's eyes traveled down the impressive length of the sword, then back to Aragorn. He snickered.

"Not a word," Aragorn growled. Then his gaze fastened on a small, silvery, and very familiar-looking object glinting at Boromir's neck, and his eyes bulged. "What?! When...?!" he sputtered.

"Rivendell," said Arwen. "You were taking a bath, remember?"

Boromir nodded. "And I thought it would be impolite to refuse the daughter of my host."

"A bath, eh?" Aragorn scratched his beard. "I knew there was a reason to avoid those things."

Gandalf cleared his throat loudly. "Now that the reunions are over, perhaps we can get back to sending the Lady Debbie home?"

"Debbie's here?" Boromir cried. Debbie the Grey waved at him.

"If you'd arrived a little sooner, there would have been four," smirked Gimli.

"And she's leaving? Oh, that's just my luck. There's nothing left for me in Middle-Earth." Boromir sat down heavily on a nearby bench and seemed about to start blubbering, when Debbie stepped forward and extended her dainty hand.

"Why don't you come home with me?" she asked. "There are lots of jobs for male models at home, and you'd be a natural. You might even be good at acting."

Instantly, Boromir leaped up. "I accept!" he shouted joyfully. "Faramir, you can be Steward. I'm going with Lady Debbie!"

"I will miss you, brother, but I understand your decision," Faramir nodded.

Hand in hand, Boromir and Debbie returned to stand in front of Gandalf.

"Before we go," Debbie began, "I would just like to thank everyone for making me feel so at home in Middle-Earth. I've had a wonderful time here, and I've loved all of you."

"Does she mean in the literal or figurative sense?" Éowyn whispered to Arwen.

"Who cares?" Arwen shrugged. "Either way, it was a time."

"So my work here is done, and I've got to go home now," Debbie continued. "But I'll take fond memories of my time here back with me. Be good to each other!" She blew a kiss to the assembled crowd and then turned back to Gandalf. "All right, we're ready now."

Gandalf waved his staff, and Debbie and Boromir instantly started to become transparent. As they slowly faded, Debbie glanced at the Man beside her. The last words anyone in Middle-Earth heard her say were...

"You know, you'll need a new name when you get to my world. How about...Sean?"

THE END

*******

AUTHORS' NOTE: Well, we didn't finish quite as soon as we planned, but here it is at last! Blame Rose; we've had a draft of the chapter since last spring, but she kept tinkering with it. It's great to see it up at last, with some of the jokes we've been planning ever since we first realized there was going to be a sequel to "Debbie Does the Fellowship." Thanks so very much to all who have stuck with us all this time...and those who are maybe just joining us now. Your loyalty is inspiring!

Where do we (and Debbie) go from here? To be honest, we don't know. Gypsie has pretty much gotten out of the LOTR fandom. Rose is still in and writing solo fanfic, found on this archive under the name "Cressida." But we're still friends, and who knows what might catch our eye in the future? Sometime we might see a fictional world that just cries out for a visit from Debbie. So we won't say goodbye, just "See you around!"

P.S. If you've enjoyed this saga, why not leave us a review?
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