The Mary Sue Exterminators do Middle Earth

By

Melisande Gray

Author's Note: Names are changed to protect the guilty. The MSX are mine. Their realms are not.

Chapter 1

The Elf Queen Ordered Salad

"Okay, Veronika," said Angelique, "It's your first day on the job. Smile, would you? This isn't a funeral home!" Veronika jumped to attention and bared her teeth in a rictus of pained delight. Angelique slapped her forehead and glared upwards. "Not like that, Nikki, you look like you've been stabbed."

"How would you know?" Veronika grunted through her teeth.

"Because I've been stabbed once or twice." Angelique's casual tone was made even more chilling by the fact that she reached over and straightened Nikki's nametag. "Now, remember, we are a family establishment. No matter who walks through that door, act like a professional."

"Professional what?" leered Catey. She was leaning by the window with a smoldering cigarette in hand. Her voice had the husky purr of a long time drinker and smoker. Angelique sneered over her shoulder.

"Ignore her," said Angelique,"she's an old fart. Now, go out there!" A bewildered Veronika was shoved out into the main room. There she stood, in the faded black frock and apron of the Blind Harlot Bar and Grill. For once, no eyes glanced her way. No heads turned. Not a single gasp of astonished rapture at her beauty. She felt normal.

She loved every minute of it.

A woman with a magnificent head of black hair and a hell of a crown stood waiting to be seated. But, she didn't look hungry. She looked sad and rather annoyed. Oh well, thought Veronika, now or never. Anime Charm, don't fail me now! As Nikki drew closer, she noticed the woman's fine bones and grace. Her ears were delicately pointed. Nikki felt her knees turn to half-set jello.

The lady was an elf.

"Good evening, ma'am!" chirped Veronika, "Welcome to the Blind Harlot! I'm Nikki, I'll be your server! Just one?"

There was a flash of pain in the woman's eyes. "Yes," she murmured, "just one."

"I'll see your five and raise you ten!" laughed Felicity, tossing back her silver white braid. The drow scooted the money across the table.

"Ooh," Aislyng hissed, "High Roller! Please, that don't cut the cheddar on Coruscant! Raise it another ten. Bring it, Bee-yotch!"

"Oh, yes, Aislyng," sniffed Bella, "very intimidating! Just because you've got tips to fling about like glitter in a Radical Fairy parade, doesn't make you the Star-Eyed!"

"So what are you doing, Bella?" Felicity asked. She arched an interested eyebrow at her friend.

There was silence. "I fold," she grumbled at last.

"Tasteless," spat Amber as she passed, "Typical of you to gamble away your pay and tips on your break, while the rest of us slave away out there! I've had my rump pinched twice!"

"Lighten up, Amber," Aislyng snorted.

Cosette poked her head in. "You guys are NOT gonna believe this!"

"Back to work, Cosette!" said Amber shortly.

"Hmph!" Cosette pouted fetchingly, "In that case, I'll just let Nikki serve Mrs. Undomiel and let you keep getting hit on by drunk Centauri!"

The room went dead.

"What did you say?" whispered Felicity.

"I said," Cosette sighed, "Queen Arwen herself is sitting in Booth 13, while Nikki serves her Prancing Ponytails and Caesar salad. She's crying, too."

Queen Arwen Undomiel sat at the table, dressed as though mourning. She dried her eyes with her napkin and pushed away her still full plate. The food was lovely. But she couldn't eat. The pain was too great. She sipped at the glass of pale golden liquid and tried to think positively. She was fighting a losing battle.

She suddenly downed her drink as though saying, To hell with this! The action summoned a tall azure haired girl with unnaturally long limbs. Nikki, that was her name. She'd said so before. Pretty child, odd looking, but pretty. She had eyes the size of cartwheels.

"Another Prancing Ponytail, ma'am?" asked Nikki.

"Is that what this is?" Arwen mused, "It's unusual, to say the least."

"Brandi mixes them up special for each customer," explained the waitress, "She can just look at you and tell how much of what to put in."

"My compliments to the barmaid." Arwen tried to smile. Nikki smiled back with a hint of sympathy.

"Anything wrong with your salad, ma'am?"

"No, I suppose I'm not hungry." Suddenly, Nikki put a hand to her apron pocket and then in it. She drew out a small black note pad and a silver pen.

"The manager says, if you need anything, ANYTHING at all, you just write her a note and we'll do everything in our power to help." Arwen and Nikki made eye contact long enough for them to understand each other. Yes, that was what Arwen had come for.

"Thank you," she said, "I'd like to do just that." She took the pad and pen and scrawled four letters in Westron. Then she folded it and took the red candle on the table, dribbling wax on the paper. With her ornate signet ring, she stamped down and handed it to the waitress. She nodded and signaled to another idle server. Then she ducked behind the bar, briefly speaking with the bartender. She nodded and handed her a key card, before turning back to her work. Arwen sat back and waited.

Nikki practically ran down the corridor with the black paper in hand. One by one, as the other girls found replacements, they joined her.

"Bonnie doesn't like interruptions!" panted Catey.

"Sucks to be her, don't it!" barked Aislyng.

Brandi ran up along side Nikki. "Was that who I thought it was?"

"I don't know!" They burst into the office all at once. There was a sound of schoolgirls at recess. Bonnie's eyes flashed about frantically. Then she set down her guitar, moved the mangy cat from her desk and bellowed.

"EVERYBODY, SHUT UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUP!"

They shut up.

"Now, what in the hell is going on?" snarled Bonnie, "I'm busy!"

"We've got a customer!" gasped Nikki.

"Veronika," said Bonnie with the long suffering patience of a disgruntled teacher, "This is a bar and grill. A restaurant. I would worry if we didn't have customers."

Nikki handed her the sealed note. Bonnie nodded. "That's different. Good girl, Nikki, you recognized one on your first night. Most people take a week." Bonnie opened the note and read it.

It was just four letters, written in soft, curling, script. It was a genteel, ladylike plea from a woman who felt she had nothing left to lose.

"Help."

Author's Note: A Prancing Ponytail is a sort of girly margarita with lemonade instead of lime juice and a few other things Brandi won't disclose. Please Read and Review. I know it's not great but I'd like to know how to make it better.