Story Summary: A comical look at the fight between Eowyn and the Witch King. Rated for swearing. Mostly dialogue.
Author Notes: I watched a music video made by a fan about Eowyn, to the tune of Kelly Clarkson's Miss Independent. The video inspired me to write this, and add my own snarky sense of humor to the scene.
Theoden directed his troops to rally. "We're smackin' their ass! Come on boys, let's get 'em!"
But fate decided otherwise. A large winged beast plowed right into Theoden and merrily ate his horse, tossing the king of Rohan to the ground.
"Ow," Theoden groaned.
"Good boy, Pookey. Now, feast on his flesh!" the Witch King shouted gleefully.
"No, no! I'll pay my taxes if you let me live!" Theoden cried in fear.
"Too late, sucka!"
"You. Now," a feminine voice shouted over the din of battle.
"Oh my goodness! Who is this brave young warrior come to my rescue? Even after like, thirty years of living with her, I still don't know her voice!" Theoden gasped.
"You sonofabitch, you killed my uncle!" Eowyn cursed. "Die!"
"Pookey, bite his face off!"
Pookey, the large winged beast lunged, only to have his head lopped off by the young warrior's sword. The headlessbody lurched and fell back, knocking the rider on his ass. The Witch King rose and sniffled.
"Pookey! Damn you, I grew up with him! He was my only friend!"
"Yeah, yeah, cry me a river," Eowyn frowned, readying her sword for combat. "You goin' down, muddah."
"Fuck that, I'm the baddest in the world! Eat my mace!"
"Hah! My hobbit homie swings harder than that!"
"Grr, you piss me off!"
"You couldn't hit the broad side of a Rohirric barn, you pointy-headed wussie!" Eowyn laughed. Just then the mace hit her shield, splintering it.
"OW! Jeez louise, that hurts like a mofo!"
"Haha! Gotcha, you trash-talkin' turd!" the Black Rider giggled.
"Oh, no! Your hand's around my throat, and my eyes look like they're about to pop out of their sockets!" Eowyn screamed.
"Yeah, you my bitch now!"
"Dude, your ass is grass," Meriadoc suddenly shouted, shoving his sword in the Witch King's knee. "Oh my god, my arm! I can't feel my arm!"
"Oh my god, my knee!" the Witch King screamed, falling to the ground. Eowyn quickly retrieved her sword and removed her helmet, flicking her head to the side so her shiney, wavey golden hair could gleam in the sunlight.
"I am woman, hear me roar!" Eowyn sneered victoriously. "Feel my wrath as I stick you in the face with my sharp blade! Yah!"
"My face! And I just had an extreme makeover!" the Witch King shrieked. "I'm melting! I'm melting! My beautiful wickedness...destroyed by a little girl like you..."
"Shut up and die, idiot!"
The Witch King crumpled up like tin foil over a barbeque pit and disappeared. Eowyn held her arm close to her and nursed it, blacking out on the field of battle. Her last waking thought concerned something about hoping a handsome dark-haired man would find her and nurse her back to health.
I know it's cheesy, but review anyway!