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 enough.
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?
NOTES: Once again, we'd like to thank those of you who have stuck with this story. You're the best! Please leave us a review if you liked this chapter? We're almost done with the story, and it might spur us on to finish faster...