A/N- There is nothing that I like better than thinking up new ways to torture the poor miniature Nazgul. |-] This chapter will definitely be proof of that. I hope you enjoy this.
Disclaimer - I. Own. NOTHING!! I'm gonna cry now. I should just move to Middle-Earth, so I at least have a fighting chance of getting ONE of the Middle-Earthians interested in me, so I can sorta say I own them - well, at least I'd own their heart! *snorts* As if that would ever happen.
Next chapter I will be writing from Middle-Earth, the one place most of you would sell your souls to the devil to escape there for just ONE day. Be jealous. Hell, some of you might even consider selling your mother AND your soul to the devil just to escape there for HALF a day, as long as you got to see Legolas at least once. Be VERY jealous. Legolas is living right next door to the place I'm building in Mirkwood...
Chapter 6 - Back AWAY From The Tutu!
The Nazgul ran for a very long time, before they finally dropped, exhausted, beside a tall clump of grass. At which point, of course, most of them fell asleep. None had gotten much rest since leaving Mordor. (Although the great Tolkien never mentions it, the Nazgul did indeed have need of rest, in order to recharge the batteries that run their glowing red eyes) Before long, they were all snoring little Nazgul snores, happily oblivious to everything around them.
However, when they woke up and counted themselves, they found they were only seventy. Nine Nazgul were missing...
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When Nazgul #20-30 (excluding, of course, the absent #23) woke up, they found themselves lying on a distinctly feminine-looking four-poster bed in a richly decorated, if slightly befrilled, room. Puzzled, the little terrors looked around.
"What an odd place," remarked #21.
"It looks kinda pink to me, doesn't it?" frowned #30.
#21 looked blank. "Is there something wrong with pink?"
The others started snickering at #21, but stopped abruptly when the door opened, and a beautiful maiden with long golden hair glided in.
"Ooo, prettiful!" sighed #25 and #22 in unison.
The maiden smiled. "Hello, little ones. So you have awoken."
The miniature Nazgul all nodded vigorously, still staring at the lovely girl.
"I am Eowyn, a lady of the Riddermark." She sat down on the bed and picked up #24. He gave the others a look that said, 'Sucks to be you!' and continued staring at Eowyn.
"I know not what manner of creature you are, but when I saw you and your companions lying asleep on the plain, I could not help but take a few of you home with me."
"You mean you left the others?" frowned #28.
Oblivious to all that was going on around him, #20 was watching Eowyn and still singing, "Owh, give me ah howme, whayre the buhfahlow roawm..." (#20 wasn't too bright)
"Well, yes. I picked the cutest of you all."
The Nazgul puffed up with pride, until the true realization of what her words meant sunk in.
"Uh-oh," murmured #26.
"So," Eowyn continued, reaching into the bag that had hung, unnoticed until now, at her side, "I got an idea. I have all these lovely ideas for fashion designs, but until now I've had absolutely no one to model them for me. None of the guards wanted anywhere near them, and all the other ladies are too prissy to help me. So I made up a few-" (Here she dumped the contents of the bag onto the bed in a rather large heap of pink, white and purple. Frilly pink, white and purple, nonetheless.) "-miniatures of my ideas. I think they'll fit you nine rather well." Eowyn then proceeded to pull a little shiny, sparkly pink ball gown over the head of the wriggling #24, whom she still held in her hand. She examined the finished product of the dressed-up Nazgul in satisfaction. "Perfect."*
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!"
"C'mere," Eowyn said, scooping up #28. "You've got the body shape that would fit this little skirt I'm calling a kilt, until I can think up a better name, goregeously."
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!"
In spite of the Nazgul's protests, Eowyn, smiling happily, fit the kilt onto poor Nazgul #28. (He looked quite ridiculous with his black robes and a tartan skirt, but apparently Eowyn didn't think so.)
"And now I think that you -" She dropped #28 and picked up #27 - "would look absolutely stunning in this dancing outfit I came up with. It's called a ballet costume, and it comes with this adorable little skirt I decided to call a tutu...**"
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Meanwhile, the other Nazgul, after searching in vain for the missing ones for a couple hours, decided, with heavy hearts, to continue their journey north to find the Ringbearer, and northeast to speak with Saruman and persuade him to join their master.
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*Thus were the first Barbies invented.
**Eowyn was the first true designer of the style of dance we now call ballet. In her boredom at not being allowed to fight with the men, Eowyn came up with some cultural things we can be ever grateful to her for (ballet, skateboarding and poker), as well as things that should best be forgotten (Barbies, Speedos for men, and the concept of the Care Bears)
A/N - Eowyn appears to know the meaning of true man-torture! Ugh. I certainly do hope any guys who are reading this plan to stay far, far away from the Middle-Earth women. But if they catch you - send me the pictures. I need a good laugh.
