46. A Witch-Wall Named Desire
I owe thanks to Dwimordene and The Philosopher at Large, who are my top mini-Balrog spotters. Thus I reward them with a mini-mention.
We all have some kind of irrational fear. Fear of spiders, for instance (although in Middle-earth that was rather expected and wise – if you don't fear a spider the size of yourself, you're either very brave or very dumb, or most likely - both).
Lina had learned to fear walls spewing poetry.
Not that she really had anything to fear from the Witch-Wall, it was just… She didn't really want to break his heart, no matter how cruelly twisted and black it was. And though he had fallen on her and been a menace to the world, there had to be some redeeming qualities in him, right?
Riiiiiiiiight. So, it was with a heavy heart she wandered into the lecture theatre and spotted the gleaming wall standing proudly in front of the class.
“Miss Holling, future Witch-Queen,” the Witch-Wall greeted her with and she groaned. “You look more exquisite than ever, a ruby of firey redness. I would bow to you had I legs. Or a back. Or an actual head.”
“He has still not given up, eh?” Dot whispered.
“You should tell him about Gimli.”
“I will, I will.”
The room began to fill up, a few girls walking in very slowly. The mini-Balrogs had acquired a mini-Abyss skiing resort ('Caradrhas Alpine Centre: For Minis With Big Skiing Desires') and were apparently testing the laws of gravity by seeing how fast students went down the hill head first.
Needless to say, that was not a good way to start a day. Mercuria and Amy were particularly stiff, having slid down so fast the mini-Balrogs had to test again. And again.
Lina shook her head, dropping down next to Lotus and Jules (who were engaged in one of those 'Manly ruggedness versus Eternal beauty' debates – also known as the Aragorn versus Legolas debate) and trying to sink down in the chair as far as she could. Perhaps she could hide behind Sunsong the Silver (who of course gleamed silver-ish, despite insisting the name was only because she specialised in gems. The light would possibly blind the Witch-Wall).
“Today we shall talk about the language of evil,” the Witch-Wall said, and gleamed (he really had been polish to the point of being painfully bright). “It is not enough to look evil, you must also speak evil. Nazgûl Two, show them!”
“Sssssshire. Bagginsssss,” Nazgûl Two hissed.
“Thank you. When you hear that, will you think this is a) a nice stranger looking for directions or b) evil troublemaker?”
“How about c) idiot with a lisp?” Niamh muttered.
“Other voice effects for evilness is adding a weird echo, sounding like you're spitting every word, booming, or speaking a language with lots of consonants and oddly-placed vowels.”
“Ash nazg,” Nazgûl Three said proudly. “Nazgûl Three remember that from great speech of Sauron.”
“Mastering this art of evil hissing is vital to being an evil minion,” the Witch-Wall went on. “Evil Overlords…”
“Or Evil Overladies,” Gami added .
“Fine - Evil Overpersons have mastered this art, but since they are evil by reputation they do not necessarily employ it any more.”
“What do you mean by that?” Sauron hissed, sticking his head in. “I hiss better than any of you sorry excuses for evil!”
“We refer to Morgoth,” Nazgûl Six said hurriedly.
“What? I hiss!” Morgoth peeked in through the window (sitting on Barlog the Balrog).
“You do not!”
“Let us find the Valar and let them decide who hisses the best.”
They stalked off, leaving the Nazgûl to snicker quietly.
“Also vital to know for Evil Minions: Evil Overpersons very vain,” Nazgûl Two said.
“Look who is talking, Mr. Polish Armour Till It Outshines the Silmarils,” Nazgûl Three muttered.
“You add extra spike on boot to look scary!”
“You steal my spike!”
“Shut up,” the Witch-Wall said. “Work on the hissing and cackling for the exams, students. Class dismissed.”
Lina made a bolt for the door, but she was not quite fast enough.
“Lina, good though thee is
perhaps thee will grant a kiss?”
She turned and regard the Witch-Wall, who beamed proudly and something inside her just snapped.
“I am taken, all right? I have a boyfriend! His name is Gimli and I love him very much! So please just… Sod off!” she answered hotly.
There was a long silence, and Lina realised that of course Gimli had showed up behind her and overheard. Of course.
“Excuse me, I was just after some hot lovin', not a commitment,” the Witch-Wall replied. “Hey, Moroko – evil to evil is best, how about you show me your zest?”
Lina shook her head and slipped into the hallway. As expected, Gimli was there, looking torn between surprise and joy.
“You just gave all the other students a heart attack,” he said admiringly.
“Except those with the Crusade for Greater Gimli Goodwill,” she replied, and smiled. Strange, she did not feel embarrassed about having proclaimed it to the world.
Gimli chuckled, and they began wandering down the hallway.
“There is a bit of an emergency in the staff section,” he informed her. “The mini-Balrogs are all worked up over a new spawning. This morning we had Isilder, Issilder and Ilsidur and they nearly tackled poor Frodo had not Gamagee jumped in. Gimlei helped too, bless him. There are so many mini-Balrogs now Miss Cam and Thundera Tiger have problems getting them all trained.”
“Oh dear,” Lina muttered. As they walked into the staff section, she noticed the trio of mini-Balrogs (Isilder, Issilder & Ilsidur) jumping around, being chased by Saron and Saruon.
“You are kidding me!” Miss Cam said just as they entered the great hall.
“Afraid not,” Shadow said sadly.
“That person deserves an unusual cruel punishment,” Dwimordene said. “One hour of Britney Spears lyrics and banned from writing Mary Sues fanfics forever should be a good start.”
“Valor? VALOR?” Miss Cam sounded torn between despair and rage. “Of all the things to misspell, it had to be the Valar. Do you know what this means?”
“I think I do,” replied Thundera Tiger. “Mini-Balrog gods.”
”Woe is the students.”
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.