I own neither Middle-Earth, nor they that dwell therein. That's Tolkien's gig. I do, however, own all the persons (except Legolas) mentioned in this fic, since I invented them.

Department of Fanfiction Regulation

Case File: MS40928

The Mary Sue arrived in Middle-Earth on a misty day. She arrived as most Mary Sues do, stepping lightly out of the air to land gracefully on her feet, her long blonde hair swirling, Mary Sue-like, in the still, clammy air.

Her name is not important. On the official records she is listed simply as "MS40928". Her personality is described as "Typical", her occupation as "Orphan", her preferred member of the Fellowship as "Legolas", and her method of entry as "Mirror". All are accurate, if terse. The Mary Sue had been visiting a cousin, the last of her kin, when she had seen the mirror. She had approached it cautiously, her entire body tingling with a sense of impending fanfiction, and walked right through it.

Now she stood on rocky ground, straining her brilliant green eyes to find some landmark by which she could approximate her location; but in vain. The thick mist made it impossible for her to decide on even the approximate location of her own feet. Her sharp hearing, however, was in no wise compromised by the fog: she could hear a faint roaring coming from behind her, which was probably a river, and after a moment the sound of rock clattering noisily fell upon her delicate, shell-like ears, and alerted her to the presence of other beings.

"Who's there?" the Mary Sue cried, clasping her slim white hands together and wringing them.

There was a pause, then another clatter and the sound of hurried whispers in two voices, one an alto with a covertly gleeful sound to it, the other high and childish and serious. The Mary Sue caught "noisy brat" - "can't see in this abominable weather" - "off her quietly" - and "you do it then!" before the pause returned, only to be broken again by a dry, polite cough.

"Avatar Mary Sue," said the alto voice, "you are, under the Avatar Liability Act, responsible for any criminal acts committed by the author whose manifestation you are; and you are accordingly charged with being in contempt of court by breaking the restraining order put upon you by being present in Middle-Earth between the years of 2968 and 3021. Said charge is verified by your presence, and the sentence will be carried out with all possible haste."

"What?" quavered the Mary Sue, her clear soprano tones piercing the misty air like a spear. "I don't understand. Who are you? What sentence? Come out, you cowards, come out where I can see you!"

Another pause.

"She asked," said the second voice, in a resigned sort of way.

"So she did," said the first, sounding rather pleased about it.

A dark shadow rose from the ground some way before the Mary Sue and gradually grew bigger, veiled by the mist as it approached the trembling girl. When the shadow was close enough that its canine form could be perceived, she gasped. When the shadow thrust its wolf-head up to her, its cold nose touching hers and its warm breath on her cheeks, she opened her mouth to scream.

"Sentence to be carried out immediately," said the wolf, grinning but polite.

The Mary Sue shrieked, an improbably high note that sounded more like part of an opera than a scream. She took a step back. She flailed her arms wildly. Then she was out of sight, her scream trailing behind her as she fell.

The wolf poked its snout inquisitively over the edge of the cliff. The Great River was, of course, out of sight in the mist, but presently there was a splash and the scream stopped.

The wolf stood up on its hind legs and became a young woman. "That was easy," she observed. Disappointment was apparent in her voice, underneath the glee.

A second shadow in the mist drew closer and turned out to be another girl, carrying in both small hands a metal device which in shape was similar to that of pocket calculators of yore. "She is dead," said the girl. "Portal?"

"I s'pose so," said the first, glancing around wistfully. "It's a bit wet for sight-seeing."

The mist in front of them ripped apart noisily. They stepped through, the first seizing the edges and pulling them together after her, where they mended with a zipping sound.

The Mary Sue had entered Middle-Earth on a misty day. The weather, as the second voice had so observantly remarked, was abominable, but Middle-Earth was safe. At least, for a while.