This is the second story in my Mary&Sue series, dedicated, obviously, to Lord of the Rings. Enjoy the ending you wouldn't ever expect and watch out for new chapters!
I strongly recommend that you read the first story (you can find the link in my profile) before reading this one for better understanding of the plot.
The river streamed merrily, waves frisking. The dark hooves of the nazguls' mounts were ready to touch the water. All of a sudden – an arrow swished through the air and went right under the Witch-King's cloak. His fleshless body slowly drew a curve in the air and collapsed on the ground, and his face would freeze with an expression of astonishment, if only he had a face.
The nazgul turned their cloaks hesitatingly as a couple of their comrades followed the leader's example. The nearby thicket let out a cry "Here goes!", and the rest of the ringwraiths were struck by what seemed a firestorm. Shortly after a roadside oak's crown started stirring and out of it jumped a creature the description of which is familliar to you from the previous story. A swordswoman crawled out of the bushes and stood at the archer's side, sporting a ringmail top, an miniskirt made of metal strips and an enormous crystal sword behind her back. The only features that were different from her companion's were short (just reaching her shoulder-blades) fiery-red hair held above the forehead with a plain silver diadem, and normal human ears. She smugly put one of her hands on her hip, and with the other she brought to her pursed lips a "Beretta"'s barrel to blow off the smoke.
Four pairs of little eyes and one pair of bigger ones were staring perplexedly at them from the other side of the ford. Meanwhile a hoofbeat came from behind.
- You are overacting! – whispered Mary discontentedly to her sis.
- And you, - Sue hissed in return, looking back to see an exasperated pointy-eared brunette on a horse, - why the hell didn't you load from the book? Thanks to you we'll have to deal with this poorly made-up goth instead of cute Glorfindel!
Mary waved off this comment like an annoying fly and, dexterously jumping from one stone to another, made it over the stream.
- I am the elven princess Marielle. I have come to my promised husband, – announced Mary, granting the travellers with a light bow.
- She actually meant to say "a stepbrother", – Sue added helpfully, coming up to them.
- She meant she is my stepsister, and her name is Susanna, – the maiden elf countered. – Our beloved father did not disdain human women, – she added casually.
- It will be an honor for you to escort us to Rivendell, won't it? – Sue uttered almost affirmatively, smiling prettily and slowly turning her eyes from Aragorn with his "suite" to the horsewoman, whose face, to Sue's pleasure, was twisted with certain frustration.
- Now you see, oh fair prince, how greatly my people are advanced in medi... the art of healing? Would you like to get acquainted with... our other achievements? – princess Marielle smiled sweetly, waving a pack with an inscription "Aspirin".
Having heard this, the miraculously cured Frodo made an effort and rose his head from the pillow to see the joyfully chirping maiden elf dragging Legolas, helpless against such forcefulness, to an adjacent room. Then he shifted his gaze from the slammed shut door to another one, wide open, and a face framed with red hair gazing out of it – usually extremely beautiful but now twisted with envy and frustration. Nonsurprisingly the hobbit preferred to lose his consciousness again.
Sue rushed through the courtyard like wind through a wheat field: golden elven heads kept turning to follow her. Not paying attention to the admiring looks of dozens of freshly fledged suitors, she strode swiftly to the forest. Having got to a neat grove, she sat upon a moss-covered stone near a small lake, propped her face up with her hands and stared at a little, merrily gurgling waterfall in a most gloomy way.
- Serene princess Susanna! – she heard a courteous voice from behind. In response to that the "serene" girl just sniveled.
- May I be granted with your attention? - the voice sounded closer. Aragorn came out of the thicket and approached the grim fighter as carefully as he could.
- You should groom yourself in an appropriate way first, your majesty! – Sue cut him short in a steel-cold voice and turned back with lightning speed.
The next moment the king of Gondor regained his senses sitting in the lake. A blueish bath sponge landed on his shoulder and a bottle of "Violet" liquid soap swam past him, rocking lazily. All this had been pulled out of a bulky field cosmetics bag, which had in turn emerged from the fifth dimension of a small belt purse. The fair princess was still sitting on the mossy stone, showing her back to the valorous man.
In an hour's time Aragorn was sitting on the bank clad in a huge bath towel and a hairdryer cap sliding down to his eyes. The hairdryer was steadily buzzing, plugged in to a mini-accumulator, and Sue, bearing a smug look, was stacking her arsenal of scissors, hairbrushes, tweezers and other things, indispensable for a girl on a journey, into the cosmetics bag. She critically examined the long-suffering Venus that had become unfit for use after the battle with the tough growth on Strider's chin, hemmed and threw the razor into the lake.
- Well, now we may continue our talk, - purred Sue, hanging the tidied-up bag on a twig, helpfully provided by some tree...
When the council was gathering, Aragorn could not be found for a long time: he had turned into a hot latin american macho with a tidy goatee, curly hair, evenly trimmed to shoulder-length (even Sue's hairbrush could not overcome some of his everlasting mats), wearing a clean (!) shirt. Instead of the habitual smell of sweat he gave out an unearthly odour of synthetic violets. Even Legolas, who sat still to the right of the elven princess, was glancing at him with some envy. Boromir himself would readily accept him as a rightful king.
Looking at Sue's smug face, Mary felt some frustration and started whispering seductively to her "promised husband" all the same but even better, and with a relaxing massage in addition. Sue noticed that and, after her and her sister's venerable persons had been presented to the Council, leaped to the center of the circle, unceremoniously interruptong Elrond's speech.
- We beg your pardon, – she sang sweetly, - but actually we are not princesses from remote kingdoms but humble envoys of the Valar. – she noticed Gandalf's bewildered face, took pleasure in her sister's vexation and continued:
- We have come to relieve you of the burden of the Ring!
As a confirmation of her words she retrieved a cellular from the bottomless depths of her purse and, touching it slightly with a crimson nail, thus making it sparkle with all the colours of the rainbow and play the most solemn tune its memory contained (it was "Ameno" by Era), rose it high above her head in a spectacular manner.
Everyone responded with a rapturous "oh!", and Elrond breathed out:
- A singing silmarill... Such art was unfamilliar to Feanor himself... I believe you!
Frodo readily reached into his bosom.
- We shall take it with us and destroy in... err... Imperishable Flame! – Sue found the right words (having recalled a couple of chapters of "Silmarillion" she had once read), and the ring instantly moved to her hand. Her other hand was holding her sister's (instead of the "singing silmarill").
- A great souvenir for our collection! – Sue whispered to her sister. - It's high time for a showy disappearance.
- Gad, you've spoiled all the fun! – Mary hissed, unwillingly groping about for the remote in her purse.
Translator's note: Although I'm working as hard as possible, I find myself rather pressed for time since I still have exams to pass. Nevertheless, I'm doing my best trying to convey these admirable works of Russian fanfiction into English. Coming soon: The adventures of Mary&Sue in a typical "pulp fantasy" novel, World of Warcraft, V for Vendetta and more, so stay tuned!