Article: 241269 of rec.arts.books.tolkien Path: news.uchicago.edu!newsfeed.stanford.edu!postnews1.google.com!not-for-mail From: <<>> (tamfiiris) Newsgroups: alt.fan.tolkien,rec.arts.books.tolkien Subject: E-text chapter 11: The Stars of Cirith Ungallant Date: 6 Jul 2001 09:04:27 -0700 Organization: http://groups.google.com/ Lines: 121 Message-ID: <1a308bce.0107060804.404814a1@posting.google.com> NNTP-Posting-Host: 148.122.66.36 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=ISO-8859-1 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit X-Trace: posting.google.com 994435467 4653 127.0.0.1 (6 Jul 2001 16:04:27 GMT) X-Complaints-To: groups-support -aaatt- google -daht- com NNTP-Posting-Date: 6 Jul 2001 16:04:27 GMT Xref: news.uchicago.edu alt.fan.tolkien:70319 rec.arts.books.tolkien:241269 friends, it is my gret honour to present you with the last instalment in the saga of the ring as Tolkie *knew* it should have been. it has been a pleasure to write, i hoop some of you will enjoy reading it, too. /Tamf ----------------------------- THE STARS OF CIRITH UNGALLANT ----------------------------- Accompained by a soft stream of saddams, Gulible overviewed the company in disgust. Sam was wearing a happy, yet resolute face which practically screamed "I'm a continually failing, eternally doubting revolutionary, but at least I know how to handle the ladies", and he kept throwing quick glances at Spiegel, who ignored them with a mysterious, inwards smile. Frodo kept tugging at his clothes for no obvious reason, except perhaps for a crawling slug he had noticed on the roadside. Gulible sighed. "We can't stay here, precious, no, sadam," he said, and noticing how little effect his voice had on them, raised it from a wheeze to a rasp. "Would any of you like to see the pleasures this place has to offer?" he asked with a sly grin. For lack of better suggestions they followed him, through lush, green parks and stately piazzas, until they reached the pulsating entertainment district of Disgiliath, known for unknown reason as Cirith Ungallant. All of a sudden they found themselves surrounded by it all: Flashing lights, flashing dresses, leering orcs singing operettas in falsetto. "It's a fallen place, and that's a fact," said Sam, regarding a dancing southron of the female variety with all the disapproval he could muster. "Yeah, and it's horribly sexist," said Spiegel, who was busy condemning a display of imaginatively shaped dildos. At the call of Gulible they ran to a store of leatherwares where Frodo sat in the innermost corner, refusing to come out. "They're mine, precious! We wants them!" he screamed whenever someone tried to take away the studded collar and leash he was clutching. The proprietor's assurances that the items were meant for dogs only did not help one little bit, but at last Sam managed to lure him out with a promise of a chic poodle trim at the next dog hairdresser they spotted. "Hopefully he'll think he's a tortoise by then," Sam muttered to Spiegel, "that idiot, inbred aristocrat." His confidante failed to answer, however, too occupied in admiring a shiny leather corset. Finally they were out in the street again, Spiegel several parcels heavier. "They're the new me," she explained to Sam when he questioned her latest investments. "You don't own me, you know." They continued their ideological discussion as Gulible led them past a gloomy joint called "The mouldy vampire" decorated with an enormous replica of a bat. As Frodo stopped and stared longingly at the giant creature of the night, the doors swung open and a dark crowd emerged. They wore all sorts of black clothes: coal-black velvet, soot-black silk, gleaming black PVC. But all their faces were pale, and their angsty expressions filled the company with fear. "It is too late! All is lost! I am so hungry," wailed suddenly Frodo, as someone pushed him out of eye contact with his favourite flying rodent*. "Be quiet, Frodo," said everyone, and Gulible explained: "They're just a band of wandering visit-goths, on their way to destroy some empire or other. They're none of our business, sadam." Frodo looked at their guide with newfound respect. "By jove, Gulible!" he exclaimed. "For one with such freakish speak impediments, you sure know a lot!" "Yes, sadam," muttered Gulible softly and turned away. They did their best to mingle with the Disgillians, in order to better understand their culture, they all agreed. "The bush... the barsh will not be burned against the wall, come the revolution," said Sam loudly after they had had a thorough introduction to the drinking customs of the area. Spiegel nodded and smiled while Gulible desperately tried to edge his barstool closer to hers. As it finally tipped over, she gasped and pointed. "Oh my Eru... Look!" Sam looked up, suddenly sober, and saw Frodo up at the bar, doing an extravagant performance of the Bree-dance. "Quick, take Gulible!" he barked, knowing they had to stop his master at once. Spiegel understood immediately, and together they swung the guide through the air so that he collided with Frodo with a satisfying thud. "I can see stars, Gulible," whispered Frodo later. He giggled insanely. "But my head is in the ocean." "That's because we're in the gutter, preciousss," said Gulible, and fought a sudden urge to kick the drunken hobbit. Getting the group to the goal seemed more and more difficult. "Sam? Spiegel? Where are youssss?" he cried, fearing the worst. "We're coming... soon, Gulible," answered Sam in a muffled voice, and some minutes afterwards they emerged from a back alley, Spiegel rearranging her parcels with elaborate care. "Look, Frodo," she said at last, handing him a small paper bag. "I bought you one after all." Frodo dried his tears and opened the present. "It's beautiful!" he exclaimed, suddenly happy again. "May I put it on now?" "If you wish, Master," said Sam solemnly. "And I'll take the leash, if you allow, Sir." And so they were on their way again, Gulible in the lead, Frodo in the leash, and Sam and Spiegel in an inexplicable fit of giggles. The scenes were becoming even more spectacular, there were lights, colours and cheerful people (or something similar) everywhere. Frodo stopped and said: "What is this place, Gul...omph!" As they walked on, Gulible answered: "We're now in the heart of Cirith Ungallant. This is the original entertainment district, of which all other glitzy places are mere copies. They say a new position is discovered every day here." He glanced at Sam and Spiegel. "With certain restraints, of course. Sadam." Loud music and cheers erupted from a palace-like building at the end of the street. Gulible quickened his pace as he walked towards it, Spiegel ran after as she remembered she really had to do a thing not always mentioned by authors, and Sam marched briskly after them, dragging Frodo behind him. Gulible greeted the bouncer as an old friend and Spiegel scurried past him looking for the closest loo. The guide turned around with a great smile as he said to the bouncer: "And this is the Ringbearer." Sam had just reached the door and was panting heavily. "I'm afraid," he gasped, "I'm afraid I just strangled the Ringbearer." * Of course bats aren't rodents, really. But this particular one; long-eared, long-toothed and carrying a magnificent carrot, could certainly pass for one.