Disclaimer - I do not own The Lord of the Rings. If I did, I would probably kill myself out of the sheer horror after seeing so many Mary Sues. Well . . . maybe not.
A/N - Yes, here I go again, taking another Sue and mutilating it horribly. Blame Huinesoron. He was the one that inspired me to do another one of these things. :o) Anyway - this Sue is not based off any Sues that I have seen while on ff.net, nor is it one I have written, so do not blame me for writing/MSTing it. Also, this is most definitely not my best work. Please keep that in mind as you read. Finally, I have read the PPC, and this is not meant in any way to copy them. However, if I get any complaints that I am plagerizing their work, I will remove this immediately, and e-mail them asking for permission before posting it again.
"Imagine this. You are talking with your parents over dinner one night, telling them why you didn't do as well on a test as they had hoped, when suddenly they fall quiet, and turn to face each other. "Should we tell her?" Your mother asks. "We had best tell her now, before she becomes fond of this place." Your father answers.
You do not pay any attention - after all, your parents are not exactly ordinary. They occasionally say pieces of sage wisdom at parent-teacher conferences that surprise even the oldest of your teachers. Why should this occasion be different from any other?
Little do you know that this occasion is different. There is something that your parents have not told you, a secret known only to few. Your parents are not who they seem. They are elves. And you, despite your most desperate wishes, are trapped in an arranged marriage to Haldir of Lorien, who you have never met before, and certainly cannot come to love. Or can you? For Haldir is kind to you - and you soon find yourself falling in love with him." I scribbled furiously, completely lost in thought.
"Melissa! Melissa!" Katherine, my friend, hissed in my ear, poking me. "Mr. Kent is looking your way! Stop writing and pay attention!"
I looked up from what I was writing. "Wh-what?" I asked stupidly.
"My thoughts exactly," said my English teacher, from where he loomed over my desk. "What are you doing? Not paying attention - that much is certain."
He picked up my notebook, and looked with distaste at what I had written. "More of this nonsense about elves?"
I didn't answer, knowing well what would happen next. Complete and total mockery.
Sighing, my English teacher held up my notebook to the class. "As you have, once again, insisted on not paying attention, I am sorry to say that I will have to read this out loud, just as I do personal notes."
Clearing his throat, he began to read, making sure to stop and make sarcastic comments in different places throughout. Before long, the entire class was laughing, and my face was bright red.
Later that day, at lunch, Katherine tried to console me. "Don't feel bad - it's not like there was anything personal written in there."
Emily, another friend of mine, chimed in. "Yeah. You know how Kent can be when you write notes to friends talking about personal stuff." She winced. "Remember Amy?"
All three of us grimaced. "If I were her, I would have swapped schools," said Katherine softly. "After all, everyone finding out that the guy that took you to the Spring Fling was your cousin . . . it would be too much."
Emily and I murmured condolences, and soon the subject changed to what homework we had to do, and how unfair the Algebra teacher, Mrs. Leigh, could be.
Soon forgetting what had happened in second period, I managed to make it through the rest of my day with little trouble. Or at least I would have, had it not been for what took place that afternoon . . .
I had been required to stay after school that day to make up a lab I'd missed in Chemistry. Because of the nature of the experiment, and how long it took, I missed my ride, and ended up walking home, through a small section of woods behind the school. None of this was out of the ordinary. I often liked to going ambling through the woods. It inspired me and gave me new ideas for the stories I liked to write - stories where an ordinary girl (like myself) finds herself transported to Middle Earth and turned into an elf before meeting Haldir of Lorien and falling madly in love with him. Usually they turned out pretty well, and I received good comments from everyone that read them, except for the occasional comment from a purist who told me that I was wasting my time writing Mary Sues. So what if they were Sues? I liked writing them, and most of my audience liked reading them.
On this particular day, it had been raining, and the ground was slightly damp, and slippery. Normally this would not have been a problem, except for one thing - I was wearing platform shoes. Even on a good day, all it took for me to go flying was a newly waxed floor or water tracked in from the snow. I didn't stand a chance of getting home without falling.
As soon as I stepped onto the leaves covering the forest floor, I tripped, and found myself falling into blackness.
A few wild moments passed where I did not know where I was. Images spun past me - pictures of people I knew, and some that I didn't, of places I'd never seen before in waking life, and of creatures that only existed in dreams. Suddenly, everything came to a grinding halt. I was standing in a white room that reminded me slightly of a bank, for there were windows set in the walls that looked strangely like teller windows, and people were standing in line. Well, not people exactly. Girls. Teenaged girls. Most of them looked confused, or slightly appalled at having to be where they were - in line under a window that had "Legolas" written above it, with said elf standing behind the counter.
I didn't understand why those in line looked so upset. They got to meet Legolas - what could be better than that?
It was not until the girl standing conversing with the elf began to whimper as he pointed an arrow at her head that I began to comprehend. This was not a good place to be. Wherever I was at the moment, it was not a good place to be.
Now feeling nervous, I made my way to the counter where Haldir was, and stood in line. I did not have long to wait before it was my turn. Feeling as if I was going to be sick, I approached the counter with much trepidation, only to be pleasantly surprised. Instead of Haldir, it was someone different - someone who was akin to him in looks, but apparently not in temperament, for he greeted me with a polite smile.
"Hello. My name is Rumil. How may I help you?" He said.
"Er. Um. Yes. Hello. I'm Melissa Adams, and I just sort of fell here. I was walking home and I slid on some leaves and found myself here." I answered, feeling rather sheepish.
Haldir - er, Rumil, typed something into the computer before him. "Ah yes. Melissa. You were summoned here as part of your punishment for deliberately writing Mary Sues, perfect original characters that are inserted into Middle Earth, meet a canon character - characters such as Legolas, Haldir, Aragorn, Arwen, and Galadriel - and fall in love with them, making them act entirely out of character. Do you understand?" He inquired, giving me a long look.
"What?" I squeaked. "I'm being punished for writing Mary Sues?"
Rumil nodded. "Yes, I am afraid so. The authors, both living and dead, have grown tired of having their work constantly torn apart by Mary Sues, and have decided to do something about it." He lowered his voice. "In other words, you are being forced to live the story you wrote."
I shrugged. "That's not so bad."
He stared at me blankly, in an entirely un-elf like manner. "Are you really as ignorant as you seem? After what you Mary Sue writers have dreamed up you are unafraid of entering your own story?"
"Well, no. I'm not afraid. After all, my stories have happy endings. My character enters Middle Earth, is magically transformed into an elf, and meets Haldir. They fall madly in love, and after a few misadventures end up marrying one another. What's so horrible about that? Compared to most of the stuff I've seen, it's pretty tame." I answered, curious as to why he seemed to find the prospect of having to live one of my stories harrowing.
Rumil ignored my question for a moment, studying the computer monitor instead. With a sigh, he typed something new, his fingers flying over the keyboard with the skill of long practice.
Without thinking, I blurted out, "How come you have computers if they don't exist in Middle Earth?"
He stopped what he was doing, looked up at me, and smiled. "We have computers because we have to network with other fan fiction categories in order to handle crossovers properly. Also, using a computer network is much faster than the traditional quill and paper. Here in the Mary Sue department, we are allowed to bend the rules as much as is required. In Trolls, Bad Slash, Bad Song Filk, Lousy Parody, Bad Crossovers, Pointless Angst and Gary Stus they are also allowed to use whatever may be needed to set fan fiction back to rights, however, since their departments usually don't involve tracking down the authors and punishing them, they often stick to the original story as closely as possible."
The printer next to him began to spit out several pages of paperwork. "There we go. Melissa Adams - you have been assigned to the fan fiction story 'Final Truths', a depressing work involving a Mary Sue who commits suicide because she cannot handle her life any longer, and finds herself tossed into Arda. According to my print-out, you wrote this story six months ago, when you had only just begun writing fan fiction. Is that correct?" Asked Rumil.
I nodded, and began to be afraid. 'Final Truths' had been my first fan fiction attempt - and without a doubt my worst. The Mary Sue was annoying, the plot was stupid, and everything was so far from The Lord of the Rings it seemed like an original story.
"Er, can't I go into something different? Like, one of my later stories?" I pleaded, afraid of what would become of me if I stuck with 'Final Truths'.
Rumil shook his head and pointed to a small sign on the wall. "All authors are required to live their first - and usually worst - story. No exceptions. In other words, you must enter your first story, no matter who badly it may scare you."
I nodded, and gulped. "Where to I go to from here?"
"You will want to go to the second floor. Once you arrive there, take a right turn, and go through the door that has the word Arda written upon it. The people - or elves - located there will give you a form to fill out, and send you on your way." Rumil answered patiently. He gave me a sad look. "You are lucky that today is Haldir's day off. Usually he likes to terrify those writers that come here by telling them that they will be thrown into Mount Doom if they do not comply."
I grimaced at the thought of an irrate Haldir, and, waving goodbye to Rumil went on my way.
"You've been sent here by the Mary Sue department? Let's see - you'll need to fill out this form, and before you enter your story, you will be required to have your appearance altered to be like your character's. Also, you will need to turn over to us any items you have that are not mentioned in the story, original or otherwise." The woman standing behind the counter on the second floor told me.
Grudgingly, I handed over my backpack, jacket, and boots. "Please take care of these - I'm rather fond of them." I informed her as I placed my footwear on her desk.
Her nose wrinkled. "Yes. All right. I'll be sure that they receive the utmost care."
Satisfied that no one was going to make off with my things, I found a chair to sit in, picked up the paper she had given me, and began to fill it out.
FULL NAME: Melissa Adams.
PARENT/GUARDIAN NAME: Joan Adams.
DATE OF BIRTH: 6/12/88.
GENDER: Female.
EYE COLOR: Brown.
HAIR COLOR: Blonde.
SPECIES - Human.
FANDOM(S) OF CHOICE: The Lord of the Rings, The Silmarillion, Harry Potter.
I WRITE FAN FICTION FOR: The Lord of the Rings.
MY MOST OFTEN SUED CHARACTER IS: Haldir.
IN CASE OF ACCIDENTAL DEATH/SUICIDE, I WOULD PREFER TO BE: Cremated.
Please note that the Department of Mary Sues is not responsible for any damages to people/property that may occur while you are trapped within your story. The Mary Sue Department can not be held responsible for accidental death/injury/suicide that may occur. Please realize that you are doing this as punishment for your deeds, and that the Mary Sue Department is not liable to be sued for any reason.
APPLICANT SIGNATURE: Melissa Adams
I signed without hesitation, knowing that if I followed the story I wouldn't die, and handed it to the woman who had helped me earlier.
"Have a nice stay, dearie," she said, grinning evilly, and pulling down a lever on top of her desk.
For the second time that day, I found myself falling. This time, however, I landed in a place that I knew well. I was in the bedroom of my Mary Sue, Adriana.
For once, I wished that I hadn't been so explicit about describing my character's wardrobe, sleeping quarters, and appearance. The sight of my hair alone was enough to blind me temporarily.
Without warning, I suddenly felt as if I were being squashed under a heavy down pour of angst and depression. The story had begun. I was trapped within the angsty downward spiral that was Chapter One.
Miserable, trapped as Adriana, I began to wonder if perhaps I had been wrong in thinking that everyone loved Mary Sue.
A/N - This is the only time I will ever ask you to review this fan fic: Please review.
A/N - Yes, here I go again, taking another Sue and mutilating it horribly. Blame Huinesoron. He was the one that inspired me to do another one of these things. :o) Anyway - this Sue is not based off any Sues that I have seen while on ff.net, nor is it one I have written, so do not blame me for writing/MSTing it. Also, this is most definitely not my best work. Please keep that in mind as you read. Finally, I have read the PPC, and this is not meant in any way to copy them. However, if I get any complaints that I am plagerizing their work, I will remove this immediately, and e-mail them asking for permission before posting it again.
"Imagine this. You are talking with your parents over dinner one night, telling them why you didn't do as well on a test as they had hoped, when suddenly they fall quiet, and turn to face each other. "Should we tell her?" Your mother asks. "We had best tell her now, before she becomes fond of this place." Your father answers.
You do not pay any attention - after all, your parents are not exactly ordinary. They occasionally say pieces of sage wisdom at parent-teacher conferences that surprise even the oldest of your teachers. Why should this occasion be different from any other?
Little do you know that this occasion is different. There is something that your parents have not told you, a secret known only to few. Your parents are not who they seem. They are elves. And you, despite your most desperate wishes, are trapped in an arranged marriage to Haldir of Lorien, who you have never met before, and certainly cannot come to love. Or can you? For Haldir is kind to you - and you soon find yourself falling in love with him." I scribbled furiously, completely lost in thought.
"Melissa! Melissa!" Katherine, my friend, hissed in my ear, poking me. "Mr. Kent is looking your way! Stop writing and pay attention!"
I looked up from what I was writing. "Wh-what?" I asked stupidly.
"My thoughts exactly," said my English teacher, from where he loomed over my desk. "What are you doing? Not paying attention - that much is certain."
He picked up my notebook, and looked with distaste at what I had written. "More of this nonsense about elves?"
I didn't answer, knowing well what would happen next. Complete and total mockery.
Sighing, my English teacher held up my notebook to the class. "As you have, once again, insisted on not paying attention, I am sorry to say that I will have to read this out loud, just as I do personal notes."
Clearing his throat, he began to read, making sure to stop and make sarcastic comments in different places throughout. Before long, the entire class was laughing, and my face was bright red.
Later that day, at lunch, Katherine tried to console me. "Don't feel bad - it's not like there was anything personal written in there."
Emily, another friend of mine, chimed in. "Yeah. You know how Kent can be when you write notes to friends talking about personal stuff." She winced. "Remember Amy?"
All three of us grimaced. "If I were her, I would have swapped schools," said Katherine softly. "After all, everyone finding out that the guy that took you to the Spring Fling was your cousin . . . it would be too much."
Emily and I murmured condolences, and soon the subject changed to what homework we had to do, and how unfair the Algebra teacher, Mrs. Leigh, could be.
Soon forgetting what had happened in second period, I managed to make it through the rest of my day with little trouble. Or at least I would have, had it not been for what took place that afternoon . . .
I had been required to stay after school that day to make up a lab I'd missed in Chemistry. Because of the nature of the experiment, and how long it took, I missed my ride, and ended up walking home, through a small section of woods behind the school. None of this was out of the ordinary. I often liked to going ambling through the woods. It inspired me and gave me new ideas for the stories I liked to write - stories where an ordinary girl (like myself) finds herself transported to Middle Earth and turned into an elf before meeting Haldir of Lorien and falling madly in love with him. Usually they turned out pretty well, and I received good comments from everyone that read them, except for the occasional comment from a purist who told me that I was wasting my time writing Mary Sues. So what if they were Sues? I liked writing them, and most of my audience liked reading them.
On this particular day, it had been raining, and the ground was slightly damp, and slippery. Normally this would not have been a problem, except for one thing - I was wearing platform shoes. Even on a good day, all it took for me to go flying was a newly waxed floor or water tracked in from the snow. I didn't stand a chance of getting home without falling.
As soon as I stepped onto the leaves covering the forest floor, I tripped, and found myself falling into blackness.
A few wild moments passed where I did not know where I was. Images spun past me - pictures of people I knew, and some that I didn't, of places I'd never seen before in waking life, and of creatures that only existed in dreams. Suddenly, everything came to a grinding halt. I was standing in a white room that reminded me slightly of a bank, for there were windows set in the walls that looked strangely like teller windows, and people were standing in line. Well, not people exactly. Girls. Teenaged girls. Most of them looked confused, or slightly appalled at having to be where they were - in line under a window that had "Legolas" written above it, with said elf standing behind the counter.
I didn't understand why those in line looked so upset. They got to meet Legolas - what could be better than that?
It was not until the girl standing conversing with the elf began to whimper as he pointed an arrow at her head that I began to comprehend. This was not a good place to be. Wherever I was at the moment, it was not a good place to be.
Now feeling nervous, I made my way to the counter where Haldir was, and stood in line. I did not have long to wait before it was my turn. Feeling as if I was going to be sick, I approached the counter with much trepidation, only to be pleasantly surprised. Instead of Haldir, it was someone different - someone who was akin to him in looks, but apparently not in temperament, for he greeted me with a polite smile.
"Hello. My name is Rumil. How may I help you?" He said.
"Er. Um. Yes. Hello. I'm Melissa Adams, and I just sort of fell here. I was walking home and I slid on some leaves and found myself here." I answered, feeling rather sheepish.
Haldir - er, Rumil, typed something into the computer before him. "Ah yes. Melissa. You were summoned here as part of your punishment for deliberately writing Mary Sues, perfect original characters that are inserted into Middle Earth, meet a canon character - characters such as Legolas, Haldir, Aragorn, Arwen, and Galadriel - and fall in love with them, making them act entirely out of character. Do you understand?" He inquired, giving me a long look.
"What?" I squeaked. "I'm being punished for writing Mary Sues?"
Rumil nodded. "Yes, I am afraid so. The authors, both living and dead, have grown tired of having their work constantly torn apart by Mary Sues, and have decided to do something about it." He lowered his voice. "In other words, you are being forced to live the story you wrote."
I shrugged. "That's not so bad."
He stared at me blankly, in an entirely un-elf like manner. "Are you really as ignorant as you seem? After what you Mary Sue writers have dreamed up you are unafraid of entering your own story?"
"Well, no. I'm not afraid. After all, my stories have happy endings. My character enters Middle Earth, is magically transformed into an elf, and meets Haldir. They fall madly in love, and after a few misadventures end up marrying one another. What's so horrible about that? Compared to most of the stuff I've seen, it's pretty tame." I answered, curious as to why he seemed to find the prospect of having to live one of my stories harrowing.
Rumil ignored my question for a moment, studying the computer monitor instead. With a sigh, he typed something new, his fingers flying over the keyboard with the skill of long practice.
Without thinking, I blurted out, "How come you have computers if they don't exist in Middle Earth?"
He stopped what he was doing, looked up at me, and smiled. "We have computers because we have to network with other fan fiction categories in order to handle crossovers properly. Also, using a computer network is much faster than the traditional quill and paper. Here in the Mary Sue department, we are allowed to bend the rules as much as is required. In Trolls, Bad Slash, Bad Song Filk, Lousy Parody, Bad Crossovers, Pointless Angst and Gary Stus they are also allowed to use whatever may be needed to set fan fiction back to rights, however, since their departments usually don't involve tracking down the authors and punishing them, they often stick to the original story as closely as possible."
The printer next to him began to spit out several pages of paperwork. "There we go. Melissa Adams - you have been assigned to the fan fiction story 'Final Truths', a depressing work involving a Mary Sue who commits suicide because she cannot handle her life any longer, and finds herself tossed into Arda. According to my print-out, you wrote this story six months ago, when you had only just begun writing fan fiction. Is that correct?" Asked Rumil.
I nodded, and began to be afraid. 'Final Truths' had been my first fan fiction attempt - and without a doubt my worst. The Mary Sue was annoying, the plot was stupid, and everything was so far from The Lord of the Rings it seemed like an original story.
"Er, can't I go into something different? Like, one of my later stories?" I pleaded, afraid of what would become of me if I stuck with 'Final Truths'.
Rumil shook his head and pointed to a small sign on the wall. "All authors are required to live their first - and usually worst - story. No exceptions. In other words, you must enter your first story, no matter who badly it may scare you."
I nodded, and gulped. "Where to I go to from here?"
"You will want to go to the second floor. Once you arrive there, take a right turn, and go through the door that has the word Arda written upon it. The people - or elves - located there will give you a form to fill out, and send you on your way." Rumil answered patiently. He gave me a sad look. "You are lucky that today is Haldir's day off. Usually he likes to terrify those writers that come here by telling them that they will be thrown into Mount Doom if they do not comply."
I grimaced at the thought of an irrate Haldir, and, waving goodbye to Rumil went on my way.
"You've been sent here by the Mary Sue department? Let's see - you'll need to fill out this form, and before you enter your story, you will be required to have your appearance altered to be like your character's. Also, you will need to turn over to us any items you have that are not mentioned in the story, original or otherwise." The woman standing behind the counter on the second floor told me.
Grudgingly, I handed over my backpack, jacket, and boots. "Please take care of these - I'm rather fond of them." I informed her as I placed my footwear on her desk.
Her nose wrinkled. "Yes. All right. I'll be sure that they receive the utmost care."
Satisfied that no one was going to make off with my things, I found a chair to sit in, picked up the paper she had given me, and began to fill it out.
FULL NAME: Melissa Adams.
PARENT/GUARDIAN NAME: Joan Adams.
DATE OF BIRTH: 6/12/88.
GENDER: Female.
EYE COLOR: Brown.
HAIR COLOR: Blonde.
SPECIES - Human.
FANDOM(S) OF CHOICE: The Lord of the Rings, The Silmarillion, Harry Potter.
I WRITE FAN FICTION FOR: The Lord of the Rings.
MY MOST OFTEN SUED CHARACTER IS: Haldir.
IN CASE OF ACCIDENTAL DEATH/SUICIDE, I WOULD PREFER TO BE: Cremated.
Please note that the Department of Mary Sues is not responsible for any damages to people/property that may occur while you are trapped within your story. The Mary Sue Department can not be held responsible for accidental death/injury/suicide that may occur. Please realize that you are doing this as punishment for your deeds, and that the Mary Sue Department is not liable to be sued for any reason.
APPLICANT SIGNATURE: Melissa Adams
I signed without hesitation, knowing that if I followed the story I wouldn't die, and handed it to the woman who had helped me earlier.
"Have a nice stay, dearie," she said, grinning evilly, and pulling down a lever on top of her desk.
For the second time that day, I found myself falling. This time, however, I landed in a place that I knew well. I was in the bedroom of my Mary Sue, Adriana.
For once, I wished that I hadn't been so explicit about describing my character's wardrobe, sleeping quarters, and appearance. The sight of my hair alone was enough to blind me temporarily.
Without warning, I suddenly felt as if I were being squashed under a heavy down pour of angst and depression. The story had begun. I was trapped within the angsty downward spiral that was Chapter One.
Miserable, trapped as Adriana, I began to wonder if perhaps I had been wrong in thinking that everyone loved Mary Sue.
A/N - This is the only time I will ever ask you to review this fan fic: Please review.