The Madness Continues

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Hello, all, and welcome to the (hopefully) just as bad sequel to One Mixed Up Mary-Sue. In this lovely instalment, Emily will not be following the Fellowship along, and is stuck in Middle-earth with her mother. Oh yes, much madness, insanity and more annoying out-of-character-ness are in store.

Heh, almost forgot the disclaimer. I do not own The Lord of the Rings trilogy. If you think I do, please seek professional help.

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Emily pulled a sweater over her head. She frowned—her side still hurt. But at least they were letting her leave the hospital now.

She was going to go back to her parents' house until the next semester of school started. Then she would attempt to pick up and continue school.

After her misadventures in Middle-earth, one would think that Emily would have had enough walking around. But she found that after three days in a hospital bed (at least three conscious days), she couldn't stand it any longer—she had to get out. Today was her lucky day, as she could do just that. Her side was stitched up neatly and starting to heal and the pain was reduced to no more than a dull ache unless she moved or stretched to aggravate it.

She brought a hand to her side, over the sore. Over the stitches it was wrapped up tightly in white bandages. Hopefully it would heal quickly and she'd be rid of the uncomfortable dressing. But for now, she was just happy to be in some normal clothes instead of the hospital gown she'd had to wear earlier.

"Emily!" called a voice, one that she was more than happy to hear.

"Dad!" she said, laughing. She hugged the man who had just entered the room. He had been away with work the past few days and therefore unable to visit. He'd only gotten in this morning, but he had managed to come to pick her up nonetheless.

"I'm so happy to see you," he said. His expression then turned serious. "Your mother told me that you couldn't remember a thing" He looked concerned- and he had every right to.

"It's true, I can't remember anything," she said. She felt horrible for lying, but she couldn't really tell him the truth.

"Well, are you ready to leave?"

"Yeah," she said, smiling weakly. "It's not like I have things to pack."

-

It was good to be home, and Emily had never felt more strongly on that notion. Of course, no one would ever know what happened to her except that she'd gone missing for nearly ten months. Anyways, it wasn't like she particularly wanted to remember anything that had happened. Well, she would always be able to smile about the friends she'd made in Imladris, but that was about it. She was sharply reminded of one of the not-so-nice aspects of her 'trip'. Clutching her side, she slowly sat down on her parents' couch.

"Emily, are you alright?" Her father asked.

"Yeah, I'll be fine…" she muttered. Hey, after having the arrow come and bury itself in her side, this wasn't much.

"Emily," he said, sitting down. "Are you sure you can't remember anything? What they looked like?"

"No…" The faces of the actual friends that she'd made popped up in her mind. Yeah, they were all a bunch of cold-hearted kidnappers, that lot. She suddenly remembered when she'd thrown coffee at Erestor. She had to stifle a laugh, which her father took more or less as a sob.

"Emily, please. Both me and your mother are worried about you."

"Why are you still worried? I'm back home now, safe and sound." She would have gone on further, but was interrupted by the doorbell.

"Is that mom?"

"I think so; she said she would pick up dinner on the way home." Her father went to open the door. In stepped, Jean, her mother, carrying a large pizza box and another package wrapped in brown.

"Mom," Emily said. "You know we could have just ordered." She stood slowly, and tried to take the box from her mother.

"Emily!" Jean scolded. "Go sit, you should be relaxing."

"Yes, mother," she muttered.

"Emily, are you alright?" Her mother asked, placing a hand on her daughter's shoulder.

"Yeah… I just have a lot on my mind." She said, managing to smile weakly. "I'm just tying to put a few things together. But not right now, right now we have pizza." She laughed and grabbed a slice.

"Oh, that came for you; the mailman brought it at the same time I was going out the door to work this morning." She pointed to the brown wrapped-up package. So that's why it was wrapped funny, it was mailed.

"Thanks, I'll open it later, my hands are greasy."

-

After polishing off three pieces of pizza, Emily went into the kitchen to wash her hands. It had been a long time since she'd had anything so horrible for you yet so, so good. It had been a long time since she'd had anything but bacon, tomatoes or lembas bread. As she reached for a towel to dry her hands, when soft talking reached her ears.

"I think she knows more than she's telling us." Her father said.

"Well, the doctor said that she could be subconsciously forcing herself into forgetting if something traumatizing enough happened."

"But she says she remembers nothing. There has to be something she remembers."

Emily clenched her fists, wishing that she could tell them. She knew there were worried, they were her parents. But there was nothing truthful that she could tell them that they would believe. Sighing, she walked back into the dining room, a forced smile on her face.

"Thanks for getting dinner, it was really good." She said quietly, taking a seat once more.

"Well," her father said, standing. "I'm going to take out the garbage, tomorrow morning is pickup."

"Okay," both females replied. Finding the silence that followed, Emily reached for the brown package. On the front was written her address, no return, and the phrase 'Get Well Soon'. Emily took off the wrapping and could not believe what she found. Was this some kind of sick joke?

"What is it?" her mother asked.

"A book," Emily replied weakly. She dropped it on the table, stood, and stormed upstairs to her room, ignoring the pain in her side. She shut the door, and sunk down, leaning against it. She glanced around her room; it was still the same. She'd gone to university, been missing for three months, and it was still the same. But then, she noticed something that she decided she didn't want there anymore. Marching over, she pulled down her Lord of the Rings poster, crumpled it up, and put it into the trash.

"Emily," her mother's called softly. She knocked softly at the door. "What's wrong? Can I come in?"

"Yeah," Emily replied, looking up. She sat down on her bed, and watched her mother come in.

"What's wrong?" Jean repeated her question, sitting down beside her daughter. Emily considered for a second telling her everything, but she wouldn't believe it. Her eyes fell on the book that her mother was holding.

It was a very old-looking copy of the Lord of the Rings, one of the ones with all three books in one monster book. Emily took it from her mother and flipped it over, to read the back cover. No, it wasn't old, just beat up. It was the movie edition, so it couldn't be more than three or four years old.

"I don't want it." She stated flatly.

"Why not, you love these books, and someone's taken the time to send it to you."

"Yeah, someone has. There wasn't a return address, so I can't send it back."

"Emily! Why would you send it back? Somebody cares enough to worry about you and send you a 'get well soon' gift, and you want to send it back?"

"I don't know…" she mumbled, turning the book over. She opened the front cover, maybe someone had written on the inside cover, as so many relatives seemed to have a fixation on doing.

No sooner had she opened the book, than the room flashed white.

Emily cursed.

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There you go. It has started! Please note that exams are currently going on, and second semester will be starting soon, so there may not be any updates until the weekend of February fourth and fifth. I promise the funny will come back next chapter!