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 cry of "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!" she yelled. 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.

Denethor stood, the napkin falling from his lap onto the floor. 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, he whipped the cloth and all its contents off the table. The dishes fell to the floor with an almighty clatter as Denethor 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.

Jeanne1: Well, all the other named Rohirrim got a little Debbie--except maybe Haleth, who's a bit young--so why shouldn't Gamling have some fun too? (grin) And here's Denethor at last!

Bookworm: Oh, things are going to get much worse for Aragorn before this is over! (grin)

Ariel3: Thanks for the review! Hope you enjoy the new chapter!

Twoflower2: Well, here's Denethor, finally. Hope he was worth the wait!