[Diamond18]

“Wizards are so conceited,” Pimpi remarked, twirling a reddish-golden curl around her finger. “I’m starving, Vogonwë, got anything to eat?”

“But we just had monster residue,” Vogonwë replied.

“Not enough nutrients,” Pimpi shook her head languidly, because of course her hunger was sapping her strength and setting her on the road to complete and utter emaciation by nightfall.

“I don’t have anything, sorry,” Vogonwë shrugged. “Are you sure you don’t have any crumbs of any size or shape left?”

“No, and the high drama of this situation is enough to bore a slug to death,” Pimpi said, realizing that she had to think fast. “Oh! Duh!” she cried suddenly, “I’d almost forgotten! Well, I had forgotten, but saying ‘almost’ makes it sound less idiotic, so—”

“For Emu’s sake, Pimpi, what have you remembered that you forgot?” Vogonwë sped the situation along nicely.

Pimpi pulled a small box out of her frock pocket and held it up. “Magic beans!” she proclaimed. “Saladriel, in her not-queenly graciousness, gifted these to me when we left Topflorien! They were supposed to sustain me when all other salts had petered out, but all this time I’ve been conveniently forgetting that I had them!”

“Wow. Sheesh, and everyone thinks I’m stupid!” Vogonwë said, happily clutching at a proverbial string of superiority.

Pimpi opened the box and popped a bean into her dainty mouth. She chewed and swallowed, and found that her stomach felt full after just one kernel. “These things are amazing,” she commented.

Then suddenly, she felt an odd tingle run up and down her spine, throughout her limbs and her digits and down to the very ends of her hair. It would have been a hair curling experience had her hair not already been curly. Then, before Vogonwë’s amazed eyes, she began to grow taller. She sprouted all the way from a cute 5 feet to a tall, slender 6 feet. This was, conveniently, Vogonwë’s height, and so she could now look him in the eye.

“Ai!” Vogonwë cried, a bit nonplussed by this rather stretchy transformation.

“I feel dizzy,” Pimpi said, “and now my skirt, which was modest and practical before, is shockingly short, ending around my knees!”

“But, but I liked you just the way you were! Short and cute!” Vogonwë said. “Everyone likes short and cute! It was your gimmick! Short, cute, and hungry! Now you look like any old woman or Elf maiden, in too small a dress! I can’t handle change!”

“That’s obvious.”

Now, gentle reader, there is a call for the tacky and trite use of the patient narrator, who must step in and explain something or other. Pimpi was indeed taller, due to the magic bean which she had eaten. You may, gentle reader, be shocked and sickened by this change in a beloved character. And you may, gentle reader, wonder at the motivations behind such a change. You may, gentle reader, become cynical (though gentle) and say that there is no room in Wollyhood for the short and cute, and that obviously female characters must become tall and slender at the end of the story, for there to be a happy ending. And you may, gentle reader, think that the change was made to accommodate Vogonwë. Nay, gentle reader, Vogonwë is having a nervous breakdown as I narrate, due to his inability to accept change. At this time, gentle reader, Pimpi’s newfound height is very daunting to him. He will recover, gentle reader, but that is immaterial. The change was made, gentle reader, because I was bored.

You may, gentle reader, now become violent and scream, “If you say gentle reader one more time I’ll beat up your characters in my next post, gosh darn it!”

Moving on. Pimpi discovered that growing a foot taller was good exercise, and had made her hungry again. She was inclined to eat another bean, but Vogonwë saw what she was at, and snatched the box away. “No more beans!” he said.

“But—”

Vogonwë tossed the box over his shoulder, and it went sailing through the air till it landed in the vicinity of a not-forgotten sack, spilling its beans all over the place.

“Now I’m going to starve to death!” Pimpi sobbed, “and my stockings are torn! And, and my sleeves are too short, I’ll freeze to death! I’m not happy!” She stomped her foot.

Merisuwyniel came rushing forward. The rest of the remaining clap-on clap-off Itship remained in the off position until there should be something interesting for them to say.

“Don’t fret, Pimpiowyn. If you come to Minus Teeth, they will provide you with new clothes, and perhaps the healers can help with those inevitable stretch marks.”

“And they’ll feed us?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s go.”

“Wait a minute,” Vogonwë said. “I was hoping that after the quest was over, we could go to Chippendale to get in touch with my manly side.”

“Technically, if it was your mother who was human, wouldn’t that be getting in touch with your feminine side?” Orogarn Two spoke up, because he didn’t have enough lines. He was ignored.

“We? I don’t want to go to Chippendale,” Pimpiowyn objected. “I want to go home, to the Home Grown Cows, or maybe to the Shire, to get in touch with my mother’s kind.”

“Ha! Ha ha! You’ll scare them all into their holes with your towering height,” Vogonwë laughed.

Pimpi burst into showy tears. “You think I’m big and fat!” she sobbed.

“No, no, no! You’re tall and slender, as has already been mentioned!” Vogonwë rushed to save face.

“These exclamation marks are beginning to tire me,” muttered Etceteron.

Merisuwyniel sought to calm her demented friends. “Shhh, shhh, Pimpi, no one says that your growth sprout is unbecoming. We’ll find a dress in Minus Teeth that will make you look stunning.”

You may, gentle reader, cry, “Aha! I knew that was the cheap motivation!”

“I’ll bet they have stunning dresses in Chippendale,” Vogonwë said. “Red ones.”

“I wanna go to Minus Teeth with Merisu!” Pimpi wailed in a decidedly childish fashion.

Vogonwë fluctuated for a moment, then said, “All right, all right! We’ll go to Minus Teeth, though I am suspicious of their dentists.”

Pimpi immediately stopped crying. She removed her hands from her face and smiled brightly. “I knew you’d do this for me,” she said, giving Vogonwë a hug.

Then she turned to Merisuwyniel. “We will accompany you to Minus Teeth, and I for one desire to help you in all your future questing endeavors. I want to repay the heartache I have caused you, by being your handmaiden in shieldmadening.”

Merisuwyniel was touched by this declaration of solidarity (an overused word if ever there was one, gentle reader) and she took Pimpi’s hands in hers. "Technically, I gave up sheildmaidening for healing, but who really believes that anyway? I foresee that many adventures yet await us, and it gladdens my heart that through it all, you will be something like a faithful sidekick to me, Kemosabe.”

“Holy Burlesque Spoofery, Elf-maid,” Pimpi exclaimed, “that sounds like fun! All I’ll need is a steed of my own, a cool weapon to wield (along with Hush, a cool lethal accessory if ever there was one, gentle heroine) and I’m on my way to being a true Mary Sue!”

“This is disconcerting,” Vogonwë mused.

“Why do I feel left out?” Orogarn Two worried.

“Female empowerment, my friends,” Earnur explained. “They’re having what one would call a chic powwow, and once we get to Minus Teeth I’m sure they’ll dump us and go watch a chic flick.”

“You’re heroic language isn’t what it used to be,” Vogonwë observed.

“It’s getting late in the narrative, gentle half-elf,” Earner excused himself.

“Oh no,” Vogonwë suddenly slapped his head. “It is late! I’ve been so busy questing that I’ve neglected to write the last five fits of my epic poem! Whatever shall we do without such poetical bulletins as Getting to Gol Dulldor; Crebain, Uruks, and Sourone, Oh My!; Romeorx & Merisuette; Fear and Cheap Horror in Minus Moreghoul; and Duel of the Dunces?”

No one answered his question, gentle reader, because they had all lost interest, and were talking amongst themselves about doubtlessly far more interesting things.

“Oh well,” Vogonwë said to himself (as usual) and sat down, musing, “How am I going to get to Minus Teeth, anyway? I don’t have a horse.”