Disclaimer number one: I am not Tolkien, or heirs, so I do not own the
characters, or wonderful world of LOTR, just a poor student you really
shouldn't sue. I'm just borrowing a little bit
Disclaimer number two: I do not own the concept of fanfiction universities. All mentions of the 'Official Universities' are mentions of the brain children of Camilla Sandman, I do not own, and if I borrow, I do so with the full intention of returning it, unscathed.
Disclaimer number three: Miss Cam has given permission for the writing of this story. References to objects in her story, or concepts are hers, and hers alone, or the product of the spin offs written by HonorH and Meir Brin.
A/N: This is a light parody. The opinions expressed in the defense of Mary Sue, and her spawn are not my own. Do not kill me.
The MSA of Tolkien- Or writing a Mary Sue as a complete cliché
The halls of Rohan were empty, and silent, for the last time in a while, Armelle observed grimly. With interest, she noted that the carvings, and gold inlay was even more intricately done than she'd imagined in the books. It sparkled in the sunlight streaming in through the high windows, dust dancing across the stone flagons.
It was beautiful, a huge hall decorated for a King, and so it was with a sigh of regret that Armelle pulled a tiny box from her pocket, and held it out in her palm. There was just time to catch the embossed letters 'M' and 'S' entwined on the top of the box before the lid snapped back and the contents were exposed.
It was filled with dust that glowed oddly in the light of the room. One minute it glinted gold, the next raven-black, then bright sapphire, and next emerald green. If you looked at it too long, a strange sense of peace, and complete detachment settled over the watcher, and strings of thoughts, like, 'Leggy is soo hot' began to thread through the mind.
With great caution, the woman took a pinch of the substance, and at arm's length, scattered it in a careless circle. The room seemed to quiver a little, then settle, and sadly, Armelle watched the carvings dim from their bright polish to a dull, uninteresting plain wood.
Closing the box with a flick of her hand, Armelle strolled the length of the hall once more, stopping in front of a banner hung across the back wall. In bright red stitches, a phrase was displayed, but written in a strange script, with curving letters. A small smile quirked on her lips. MSA had not even begun, yet.
Chloe added a couple of lines about the dress her new character, Elbeth was wearing. She was actually pretty pleased name-wise, it sounded vaguely Elfish, and she'd thrown in some stuff about being an Elf of Lothlorian, and foreshadowed a little bit about Galadriel. Elbeth was her servant at the moment, but with an introduction to a certain tall, blonde elf, with a smile that could melt Chloe's heart after the twentieth re-watching of the movie, Elbeth would soon be Mrs Legolas Greenleaf.
Her IM icon jumped up and down on the corner of the screen, and she clicked on it. An IM from 'MSA' appeared.
'Click me', the words said encouragingly. Chloe shrugged. The mental abilities of this writer, Chloe, cannot be described as anything above 'miniscule' at this point in time. Clicking on links from random IM messages are possibly not a good idea, but no-one ever said that Mary Sue writers were Mensa standard. She is excused a small amount, however, as the num-dust was already starting to take effect.
The room lurched, as did Chloe's stomach, and her last real thought before she fell on her stomach onto cold stone was that perhaps clicking on links wasn't such a good idea.
The chatter echoed off the hall's high ceiling, as hundreds of girls (and the occasional guy) stood in large clumps, talking amongst themselves in the huge room. Chloe picked herself up, her current bewilderment sky- rocketing. She looked around, taking in the thick stone walls, covered in wooden stuff, and wall hangings, but before she could even get her bearings, a gruff voice cleared its throat.
Standing at waist level, looking slightly like a dwarf and at the same time like a hobbit was a woman, dressed in a nondescript outfit that appeared vaguely hobbit-like. She was also holding a clipboard in one hand, and a pen in the other.
"Name?" she asked matter-of-factly.
"Chloe Greenleaf," Chloe said proudly. She'd tried out Mrs Legolas for a while, but it didn't have the same zing to it.
The hobbit/dwarf woman rolled her eyes, and sighed heavily, tucking her clipboard under her arm.
"Welcome to the Mary Sue Academy of Tolkien," she began in a bored voice. "Like others, you have been selected based on number of spawn, and settings, quality, and quantity. Stay here is completely optional, if you can find a way to leave."
"Find a way?" Chloe repeated dumbly.
"Well, there's always out there," Armelle joined the conversation, with a nod to the main door, "But the Riders of Rohan seem to be resisting num- dust, and I wouldn't like to try that way unarmed." She smiled calmly at Chloe, glancing at the clipboard the short woman held out for her, and nodded.
"The first batch is all here," Armelle stated, then handed the clipboard back. "Good. Thank you, Estar." She turned to Chloe.
"As Estar was telling you, you are of course free to find your way home. We wouldn't keep you here, by any means."
"What is this?" Chloe spluttered, looking up again at the ceiling, the banners, the carvings, and the other people crowding into the room. For a large hall, Armelle noted, as she followed the girl's gaze, it was beginning to be distinctly over-crowded.
"This is a Mary Sue Academy," Armelle shrugged, as if perfectly obvious. "To teach Mary Sue authors the true way of Mary Sue fic." She began listing on her fingers. "Common Elfish names, locations, CPD's," she broke off at Chloe's confused expression, and explained, kindly, "Convenient Plot Devices. The rules of Tolkien, and breaking them, canon, and shooting out of it, lustings, and of course, languages."
"But why-" Chloe stuttered. Armelle's smile broadened.
"Well, when the Universities sprang up, any one half decent started learning to write. And to give them a constant supply of authors to punish, we started up, to teach the dregs how to write a true Mary Sue." She shrugged. "You'd be surprised what little gems people can come up with."
A dreamy-looking young woman, with her long blonde hair tucked behind prominent pointed ears, drifted over.
"Here's your guide," Armelle gestured to the obviously elfin newcomer. "Gala will show you to your room."
She strode off in the opposite direction, leaving Chloe following Gala, thoroughly confused, bemused, discombobulated and others besides, hoping faintly that this was all a dream.
A/N: Willing victims- I mean, students for the academy, sign up to the email on my profile page. I need a name, race, 'ship, and category of fic most popular. Your alter egos will be used mercilessly to poke fun. You have been warned.
And now, to keep the fic going, review.
Disclaimer number two: I do not own the concept of fanfiction universities. All mentions of the 'Official Universities' are mentions of the brain children of Camilla Sandman, I do not own, and if I borrow, I do so with the full intention of returning it, unscathed.
Disclaimer number three: Miss Cam has given permission for the writing of this story. References to objects in her story, or concepts are hers, and hers alone, or the product of the spin offs written by HonorH and Meir Brin.
A/N: This is a light parody. The opinions expressed in the defense of Mary Sue, and her spawn are not my own. Do not kill me.
The MSA of Tolkien- Or writing a Mary Sue as a complete cliché
The halls of Rohan were empty, and silent, for the last time in a while, Armelle observed grimly. With interest, she noted that the carvings, and gold inlay was even more intricately done than she'd imagined in the books. It sparkled in the sunlight streaming in through the high windows, dust dancing across the stone flagons.
It was beautiful, a huge hall decorated for a King, and so it was with a sigh of regret that Armelle pulled a tiny box from her pocket, and held it out in her palm. There was just time to catch the embossed letters 'M' and 'S' entwined on the top of the box before the lid snapped back and the contents were exposed.
It was filled with dust that glowed oddly in the light of the room. One minute it glinted gold, the next raven-black, then bright sapphire, and next emerald green. If you looked at it too long, a strange sense of peace, and complete detachment settled over the watcher, and strings of thoughts, like, 'Leggy is soo hot' began to thread through the mind.
With great caution, the woman took a pinch of the substance, and at arm's length, scattered it in a careless circle. The room seemed to quiver a little, then settle, and sadly, Armelle watched the carvings dim from their bright polish to a dull, uninteresting plain wood.
Closing the box with a flick of her hand, Armelle strolled the length of the hall once more, stopping in front of a banner hung across the back wall. In bright red stitches, a phrase was displayed, but written in a strange script, with curving letters. A small smile quirked on her lips. MSA had not even begun, yet.
Chloe added a couple of lines about the dress her new character, Elbeth was wearing. She was actually pretty pleased name-wise, it sounded vaguely Elfish, and she'd thrown in some stuff about being an Elf of Lothlorian, and foreshadowed a little bit about Galadriel. Elbeth was her servant at the moment, but with an introduction to a certain tall, blonde elf, with a smile that could melt Chloe's heart after the twentieth re-watching of the movie, Elbeth would soon be Mrs Legolas Greenleaf.
Her IM icon jumped up and down on the corner of the screen, and she clicked on it. An IM from 'MSA' appeared.
'Click me', the words said encouragingly. Chloe shrugged. The mental abilities of this writer, Chloe, cannot be described as anything above 'miniscule' at this point in time. Clicking on links from random IM messages are possibly not a good idea, but no-one ever said that Mary Sue writers were Mensa standard. She is excused a small amount, however, as the num-dust was already starting to take effect.
The room lurched, as did Chloe's stomach, and her last real thought before she fell on her stomach onto cold stone was that perhaps clicking on links wasn't such a good idea.
The chatter echoed off the hall's high ceiling, as hundreds of girls (and the occasional guy) stood in large clumps, talking amongst themselves in the huge room. Chloe picked herself up, her current bewilderment sky- rocketing. She looked around, taking in the thick stone walls, covered in wooden stuff, and wall hangings, but before she could even get her bearings, a gruff voice cleared its throat.
Standing at waist level, looking slightly like a dwarf and at the same time like a hobbit was a woman, dressed in a nondescript outfit that appeared vaguely hobbit-like. She was also holding a clipboard in one hand, and a pen in the other.
"Name?" she asked matter-of-factly.
"Chloe Greenleaf," Chloe said proudly. She'd tried out Mrs Legolas for a while, but it didn't have the same zing to it.
The hobbit/dwarf woman rolled her eyes, and sighed heavily, tucking her clipboard under her arm.
"Welcome to the Mary Sue Academy of Tolkien," she began in a bored voice. "Like others, you have been selected based on number of spawn, and settings, quality, and quantity. Stay here is completely optional, if you can find a way to leave."
"Find a way?" Chloe repeated dumbly.
"Well, there's always out there," Armelle joined the conversation, with a nod to the main door, "But the Riders of Rohan seem to be resisting num- dust, and I wouldn't like to try that way unarmed." She smiled calmly at Chloe, glancing at the clipboard the short woman held out for her, and nodded.
"The first batch is all here," Armelle stated, then handed the clipboard back. "Good. Thank you, Estar." She turned to Chloe.
"As Estar was telling you, you are of course free to find your way home. We wouldn't keep you here, by any means."
"What is this?" Chloe spluttered, looking up again at the ceiling, the banners, the carvings, and the other people crowding into the room. For a large hall, Armelle noted, as she followed the girl's gaze, it was beginning to be distinctly over-crowded.
"This is a Mary Sue Academy," Armelle shrugged, as if perfectly obvious. "To teach Mary Sue authors the true way of Mary Sue fic." She began listing on her fingers. "Common Elfish names, locations, CPD's," she broke off at Chloe's confused expression, and explained, kindly, "Convenient Plot Devices. The rules of Tolkien, and breaking them, canon, and shooting out of it, lustings, and of course, languages."
"But why-" Chloe stuttered. Armelle's smile broadened.
"Well, when the Universities sprang up, any one half decent started learning to write. And to give them a constant supply of authors to punish, we started up, to teach the dregs how to write a true Mary Sue." She shrugged. "You'd be surprised what little gems people can come up with."
A dreamy-looking young woman, with her long blonde hair tucked behind prominent pointed ears, drifted over.
"Here's your guide," Armelle gestured to the obviously elfin newcomer. "Gala will show you to your room."
She strode off in the opposite direction, leaving Chloe following Gala, thoroughly confused, bemused, discombobulated and others besides, hoping faintly that this was all a dream.
A/N: Willing victims- I mean, students for the academy, sign up to the email on my profile page. I need a name, race, 'ship, and category of fic most popular. Your alter egos will be used mercilessly to poke fun. You have been warned.
And now, to keep the fic going, review.