Saruman's boudoir was His Special Place. Once it had been a fair room of white stone that caught the morning sun. Often he had sat by the window overlooking Fangorn and Caradhras beyond and contemplated problems that he had found to be most complex. It looked a little different now. It was no longer a room for contemplation or reflection. It was now a boudoir. It was now... Fabulous.

When he felt that the world was getting too much for him, he would retire to the boudoir and light a few scented candles to ease his stress.

He dipped a tiny sable brush in its pot and then lifted it up to stroke the rouge onto his withered cheek. He surveyed the complete ensemble in the mirror and adjusted the turban on his head.

"Finally," he said, "I look as pretty as I feel..."

The Palantir in the corner was focused on some music hall somewhere in Minas Tirith and a light melody flowed throughout the boudoir. As the tempo built, Saruman's hips began to twitch and his hands began to twirl. He shut his eyes and allowed himself to become one with the music. Before long he was spinning around with gay abandon. Pirouettes, grand jetés, splits; he executed them all perfectly.

As the music swelled, he struck a pose in front of the mirror and threw the feather boa back around his neck.

"Gosh, I'm Fabulous," he crowed.

The effect was ruined as he screamed and jumped on the pouffe in front of his dressing table. And why? Because of the small slippery voice which came from the heavily veiled doorway of the boudoir.

"Ah-hm-hm?"

Gríma wriggled further into the room and coiled his way up one of the bedposts. His tongue flicked out and his nose wrinkled as he tasted the heavy perfumes of the boudoir.

"Don't surprise me like that, you disgusting creature!" Saruman shrieked. He lifted the skirt of his robe and tried to work out how best to climb down without snapping the heels of his boots. "And get off that bed; those silk bedsheets are from Harad!"

The snake didn't move.

"I bear news of the Horselords," he said. "We've lost Théoden to the idiot in the white hipsters - if you know what I mean."

He winked knowingly.

Saruman paused.

"How did you just wink? You have no eyelids," he said suspiciously. "And what idiot in white hipsters?"

Gríma pouted and Saruman further recoiled. A snake pouting amongst a boudoir of silks and feathers was definitely one of the weirdest sights of Arda.

"The idiot in the white hipsters with the mopey dude, the midget hairball and the two girls," Gríma concluded eventually.

"GANDALF?!" Saruman shrieked again. His boot slipped on the pouffe and he keeled over sideways.

"Indeed. Ah-hm-hm," the snake said as he watched the Wizard roll around on the floor in anger.

"He just wants to be Fabulous! But he shall never be as Fabulous as me!" Saruman wailed, sitting bolt upright. "Tell me, Gríma, is he?! Is it within possibility that he is more Fabulous than me?!"

Gríma tried not to recoil in horror as he gazed at the Wizard. His tantrum on the floor had caused numerous scarves and furs to become twisted about his body and he looked even more insane than usual.

"No one is more Fabulous than you," the snake said hurriedly. "But Gandalf has convinced Théoden otherwise. They are currently fleeing for Helm's Deep in case you send an envoy to remind him of your Fabulousness."

Saruman staggered upwards. "That will never do," he muttered and strutted out. Gríma sighed wearily and then followed the clicking of Saruman's heels down into the depths of Isenguard.

Somewhere in the caves beneath the glittering green grass lay a hollowed out cavern. An orc was asleep further up the corridor, his feet up on a box and the golden sequins of his tunic sending little sparkles dancing across his face as he snored.

"Wake up you oaf!" Saruman roared and knocked his feet off the box. "I require you to ready the Wargs! We must quickly ride out, in the name of Fabulousness!"

"Bit of a problem with that," the orc mumbled and shifted so he was comfy again. "That lot aren't going anywhere quickly."

Saruman's eyes narrowed and he stalked over to the Warg pit.

"wow. sparkle. so fabulous. such glitter. wow," a group of voices chorused together.

Gríma joined Saruman at the edge of the pit. The Wargs were all gathered in a semi-circle staring at the pair of them. Instead of their usual vicious and drooling selves, each Warg looked rather empty and vapid.

"wow," they sighed in unison when they saw Gríma. "snake. much scaley. wriggle wriggle. wow."

"They are of no use at all," Saruman fumed. He turned and kicked the once-again sleeping orc. "You there! Prepare the Sparkle Army! We'll show Gandalf and his hipster trousers who is Fabulous!"

Glorfindel groaned and heaved another pile of books through the Archives. He was now intimate with nearly every detail of Minas Tirith but it still wasn't enough for the Keeper. She was constantly calling for more books and more knowledge and the elf-lord was beginning to tire and pine for open spaces.

"Elf-Lord!"

He sighed wearily and threw the pile of books to one side. He now knew from experience that, if the Keeper screamed for him, he had to get there as soon as possible.

His boots slipped slightly on the floor as he skidded around a corner and he went flying into a pile of books. As he propped himself up on his elbows, he realised that the Keeper's bottom was but a few inches to his right.

She was on all fours and examining something on the floor. He swore he heard her murmur something along the lines of, "wibbly wobbly timey wimey."

She peered through a gap under her arm at him before reaching out with a scrawny hand. Her fingers closed around his collar and he was dragged alongside her with a strength that betrayed her years.

His face was unceremoniously smushed into the floor, accompanied by an imperious, "Look at that!"

He blinked and pushed his head back so he could see what he was supposed to be observing. A hairline crack was running beneath his nose.

"The floor is cracked," he said. "Was there another book-slide?"

The Keeper made a little yowling noise.

"No, look!" she spat. Her finger traced out the crack and then rose. Glorfindel realised that the crack was stretching away through the Archives without a break.

"This is bad," the Keeper muttered. She stood and began to follow the crack out of the Archives, Glorfindel close behind her.

Down into the city they went, all the way to great gates of the city. The crack ran the entire way along the ground. It happily went over any surface be it stone or wood and was unbroken and straight in its path. Straight out of the gates it shot and carried on straight across the Pelennor Fields towards Rohan.

"Buggeration," the Keeper frowned. "This is really bad. That meddling Sue is splitting open the Universe. If we aren't careful then it is ka-blooie ahoy!"

"What can we do?" Glorfindel asked but again her attention was elsewhere. He rolled his eyes and tried to keep up with her as she sprinted back into the crowd after a battered cart of hay. She weaved back and forth before nimbly jumping up a flight of steps and performing a magnificent swan dive right into the cart.

"Her athleticism defies her age!" Glorfindel muttered as she emerged in a shower of hay with a squirming, white bunny under one arm.

"Come, Elf-Lord! See if you can procure a cage or something for this monster, would you?" she called over her shoulder. She fixed the bunny with an evil eye as it wriggled. "Stop it this instant. Now, how on earth did you get yourself in this mess..."

She bore the bunny away, still yapping away and pausing as if it was answering. Glorfindel stared after her and shook his head wearily. Poor thing was really losing it.

Mind you, there was something very peculiar about that bunny...

Evil!Frodo slunk his evil way along the path, muttering evilly to himself and rubbing his hands together with evil glee. Sam and Gollum followed slightly behind, both a little unsure of how to deal with this situation. Evil!Frodo wasn't particularly dangerous per se; he was just a bit of a diva. Everything had to be just so. Preferably an evil just so.

As long as he could slink along in his black cloak then he was a happy Evil!Frodo.

If there was such a thing.

The black cloak ahead of them paused and looked out over a ravine. A black-nailed finger evilly emerged slowly from the depths of shadow and pointed down.

"Llamas," Evil!Frodo breathed evilly.

A giant llama with a striped tent on its back trod up the ravine. It turned its head and spat in their direction. The gob of phlegm landed in the tree next to them and fell on the path with a plop.

"No-one back home is ever going to believe this," Sam said in a tiny voice as the llama breezed on, chewing contentedly. Neither Gollum or Evil!Frodo paid attention to him. They were more interested in the figures walking in strict formation below the llama. Their uniforms were neat, their pigtails precise, their shoes shiny. And none of them seemed to be older than ten.

"Girl scouts," Gollum said darkly. "Summoned by the Dark One to serve in the Sparkle Army. They shall bring dry and bland cookies to the people of Gondor and cover all the lands in tasteless shadow."

From the bushes on the far side of the ravine came the screech of a barn owl. Stones and eggs came flying out of the undergrowth and rained down upon the girl scouts. They all screamed and ran for cover while the llama completely failed to notice the eggs bouncing off its coat. A rock however collided with the tent, showering the watching three with cookies.

"Blah," Evil!Frodo growled evilly as crumbs fell inside his hood.

"I say, chaps! That is the Ambush Badge earned!" a jovial voice called from further up the path. The three turned to see groups of figures pop up amongst the bushes. They too were all in uniforms, although they were all grown men. The sight of so many hairy legs poking from shorts was really quite disconcerting.

"Can we get Llama Herder too?" one of them asked but the first speaker, the one with the shiny badge proclaiming Brigade Captain, shook his head.

"No, that is enough for today. We should really return to the Clubhouse for scones and tea," he said.

"Tea!" the others shouted happily.

There was a pause as they finally noticed Sam and Evil!Frodo watching them, Gollum having slunk off quietly into the undergrowth. They huddled together for a whispered conference and then approached the Hobbits.

"I say, would you two weary travellers care for a spot of afternoon tea? Code 82 of the Boy's Brigade Handbook states we should be open and hospitable to all we meet on the road," the Captain said.

"Tea?" Evil!Frodo enquired evilly. The Captain nodded and Evil!Frodo followed him evilly down the path as the Brigade set off.

Sam's hand snuck to his pocket. Yep, the Ring was still tucked there safely. He had decided that it probably wasn't a good idea for Evil!Frodo to be in possession of it any more. Looks like it had been a wise decision.

The going through Rohan was slow. Very slow. Why did the Rohirrim need to take so much with them? Aragorn surveyed the line of marching ginger heads from his vantage point on his horse. They would be lucky if they reached Helm's Deep by nightfall. His eyes fell on Gimli and Éowyn chatting amicably as they rode along. They seemed to be able to understand each other perfectly. Aragorn wasn't entirely sure how.

"Heepl mrrrh mhundrrr hmprsssn hmmher huuh murf hummun," Gimli said. "Hmmph huuh murfs upmh awt huuh mrund!"

Éowyn gave a great, rumbling laugh that echoed off the nearby cliffs. "Aye!" xe boomed.

Aragorn shook his head and turned back to the column. His eyes narrowed as he spied Galabríawenúthien and Leggy riding along and twittering sweet nothings to each other. He missed the company of Gandalf. The Wizard had rode off on PBS a few days earlier to, as he had so eloquently put it, "find out where that twat Éomer has fucked off to."

Things felt slightly too overwhelming without him and his white hipsters.

A clear, sweet note like a chiming bell rang over the ginger heads. Galabríawenúthien's head snapped round; her long wilver hair slapping an unsuspecting Háma in the face and causing him to slide sideways out of his saddle. She spurred her gleaming white mearh (Aragorn wondered exactly how she had managed to tame one since she had neither royal blood nor any truly spectacular qualities that meant one of the mearas would permit her to touch them) up the bank to where a strange figure stood dark against the sun.

"Mae govannen, mellon nin!" she sang brightly. Aragorn followed her up and reined in his horse tightly as he saw who she was greeting.

Where to start? The creature the figure was sitting on? It looked like a horse, save for the giant feathery wings sprouting from its shoulders. Also it didn't smell like a horse. The baby pink, curly tail swished back and forth, sending wave upon wave of floral scent towards Aragorn. Its mane, also curly and baby pink, was being lovely twirled by its rider.

She rode side-saddle and wore intricate armour of a beautiful shining silver. Her hair, the same exact shade of pink as her mount's, was coiffed on top of her head in beautifully complicated braids and curls. A few tendrils curled down around her cherubic features, accentuated by high cheekbones and soft, full lips. Most intriguing of all were her eyes. Large and framed by thick dark lashes, her irises were every colour of the rainbow.

Rather worryingly, she was using those eyes to stare at Aragorn with intrigue and curiosity and, dare he say it, complete and open love.

"May I present my dearest friend, Azureiananaiel Rainbowiana Alatarien," Galabríawenúthien said, reaching out to squeeze the girl's white-gloved hand. "Beloved daughter of the Blue Wizard Alatar and famed mercenary in her homelands far to the East."

"I am here to aid you in the fight against the Dark Lord," Azureiananaiel said with a bob of her pink head. Once again her eyes flicked towards Aragorn and her full, pink lips curved into a small, cute smile.

A chill ran down his spine and his fingers brushed Arwen's pendant around his neck.

Please, please, please... can they not be the same... he thought desperately.

OH HAI DER GUISE, REMEMBER ME?!

I seem to recall that in the last chapter I promised you wouldn't have to wait three months for the next chapter. Try nearly seven instead... *oops*

I has reasons! I spent my summer rampaging around various European cities and then in autumn I began my plod (or more accurately my drunken/hungover stumble) through the first year of my astrophysics degree. So... been a bit busy. XD I also had my hair cut shorter than I've ever had since about the age of three and it is now rather Hobbit-like when I do nothing to tame it. :3

So, I'm back, with Doge Wargs and llamas and the beautiful Azureiananaiel. Mwah-ha-ha!

Thank you so much for the reviews so far! I'm so happy that you are keeping up with this madness!

See you all whenever I type out the next chapter! *waves merrily and rides off into the sunset on the back of a llama*