Title: A Gift to the Lord.
Rating:PG-13
Author: Little Rat
Disclaimer: Nope, don't own *any* of this tripe, except for the Mary-Sue (actually, Sauron owns her…or maybe the devil does. I dunno.) I'm just playing around and probably profaning what the J.R.R. Tolkien was so gracious to give us. Yep, it's up to me to muck about in that garden. So I'm gonna do it. And I'm gonna use this fic to help me accomplish that!
Summary: Poor Sauron…all he wants is some attention! A Mary-Sue all of his own…a precious, aggravating blonde fangirl. And what the Sauron wants, Sauron gets. Inspired by the author J. Marie's "And Now, A Message From Sauron." Go read it! (After you finish this and review)
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(We see a girl in her teens sitting in front of a computer. On the screen is the climatic chapter of a slash fanfic, but she isn't typing anything. Instead, she is having coughing fits from time to time, or tapping her nails on the desk. This would be the author of this tripe, known as Little Rat.)
LR: *doubles over coughing, then returns to tapping nails* How am I going to make this scene work? I mean…slash writing isn't easy…and my story's doing pretty good; I don't wanna disappoint anyone by screwing up one of the most crucial scenes! Damn it…where's my muse!
*phone rings*
*LR picks up phone. We can see her face now, framed by copper hair. She nods and listens for a
moment, then her green eyes go wide.*
LR: *weakly* Are you serious?
Sauron: I'm afraid so.
LR: *groans* Can't it wait? I'm trying to do "An Ounce of Blood"! Have you read that one yet, m'lord? It's good…maybe it'll distract you until I have *time* to write you a M---"
Sauron: Damn that blonde Elf Legolas! Hang Haldir! It's always about the Elves! *Always*! Everything revolves around the Elves! And I'll tell you why. It's because they're *blond* and *shiny* that's wh---"
LR: Actually, it's quite frequently about Aragorn. Even the Hobbits, sometimes…
Sauron: Damn them all, wench! We've already been through this…it was my message that *inspired* you to write this, *remember*?
LR: *meekly* Yes, yes sir…I'm sure I can put "An Ounce of Blood" on hold to write this absolute *tripe* that's gonna earn me no end of flames, but hey…
Sauron: *dangerously* Good. *hangs up.*
LR: Damn. *hangs up.*
AND NOW, THE TRIPE SHALL BEGIN…
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It was an entirely havoc-ridden day in Mordor, and even the Orcs were choking on the dust in the air, and they were all whining anyway, but nothing out of the ordinary. The usual empty threats of mutiny, complaints that they were having a hard time getting in with the "in-crowd" of those hottie Uruk-Hai (Sauron would have to speak to Saruman about this…the little upstart shoulda known that creating cliques in the regiments wasn't a good thing. Whatever happened to peace and love within the ranks, for the well-being of supreme evil?!?) and, naturally, the occasional yell of "My trousers are too tight!"
Did the Orcs even *wear* trousers? The rightful Lord of the Rings (for yes, indeedy, he was) shuddered to think of the possible answers. Even so, Sauron was feeling miiiiiiiiiighty special on this, uh, fine day. Well, fine for him.
Despite the Orcs' endless complaints, despite the endlessly warring troops of authors debating whether he could or could not take physical form any more:
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"No he can't! He abandoned physical form after the Ring was cut from his finger, remember?"
"Well, he's powerful! He could always take physical from again, if he wanted to! He just happens to think the Eye is cool!"
"We're telling you, ya great bunch of idiots, that Sauron can*not* take physical form! That goe against canon!"
"So does practically every fanfic ever written! That's why it's called *fanfiction*! We get to manipulate things to *our* will! Thus, Sauron is able to take physical form!"
"Oh, go shove it up your---"
~*~*~*~*~
ANYWAY…
Despite endlessly warring troops of authors debating whether Sauron could take physical form or not, the Lord had finally decided to go with the former group (Sure, the 'great eye wreathed in flame' thing looked wicked, but it grew to be sooooooo tedious) and assume physical form again. Why? Because he felt like it.
That shut up those canon-thumping extremists right quick. (No offense to people who write using only canon.) Even despite those cute little Hobbits, that androgynous-yet-masculine beauty of an Elf, and that wild-looking, dark Man who were all mucking about trying to destroy his pretty ring while all the fangirls swooned, Sauron was feeling pretty good. He had spent practically the whole day in front of a mirror, admiring his new physical self. He had given himself an almost impossibly tall body frame, (taller than Aragorn by quite a bit, something along the line of his *old* physical body) broad shoulders, lots of muscles and thick black hair and a beard. Sauron still had that whole flaming-eye thing going on, but who was he to complain? "I bet the fangirls will really go for it," he smirked to himself, petting his beard the way some sane people might pet their cat or whatever. Such a nice beard…so nice…so nice to stroke. Even Gimli would be jealous of his beard, he vowed. "Hang all those righteous, Fellowshippy- hippie types!" he growled. "All the women in Middle earth, or that enchanting land of authoresses will flock to *me*! Human girls, Elf maids, Dwarf women, Hobbit lasses, Orcish lovelies, Authoresses!" ---He was pretty convinced that authoresses were a most fair species, seeing as how they popped into Middle Earth quite often and ensnared someone, almost as often as…Mary Sues---" And even…dare I say it…MARY SUES! I, Sauron, can have one of those blonde, blue-eyed, impossibly multi-talented buxom Mary-Sues! Or maybe I want the warrior type…the type that is impossibly stoic, has a secret past, a fiery temper and rebellious streak, who swears off love only to find it! But ah…a Mary Sue, for me…I'll let them *have* the Ring, if only those peace-loving FellowsHippies will just bring me one precious Mary Sue!" Sauron was practically in tears after this rapture, as he stared into the mirror and admired his new form some more. Gradually, all this thinking of Mary Sues made him remember a certain green-eyed Authoress he had spoken to before.
"That little wench better not have forgotten that promise she made me and gone back to her little piece about those nancy Elves and blood, or whatever. She promised me a Mary Sue! If she won't give me one of those tempting lasses, I'll just have to have her guts for garters, now won't I!?!" Sauron ranted to his beard, stroking it and quite forgetting that he didn't *wear* garters. (Although he wasn't too sure about the Orcs. Or Saruman, for that matter…wizard-boi was looking *awfully* feminine these days…)
Reaching deep into a pocket of his *impressive* (not really) black trousers, (how can they be impressive? They're just trousers!) Sauron pulled out…a cell phone. Who knew where he had gotten it, but, hey.
"Hello. Is this the Authoress who parades around flaunting that story about the Elves and calling herself Little Rat, always taking care to mention that she's on a collab name as Wicked Spring?"
"Yes, this is me…and I don't *parade* or flaunt anything. I don't even have a following, jeez! I just write. Whaddaya want?" The Authoress's voice grew suspicious. "If you're that Nazgul who called me from Bree for a date, I already told you, I'm sick! Unless you wanna catch mono…" her talk was interrupted by a fit of coughing. When she stopped, Sauron said nervously and a tad politely into the phone (the poor thing didn't sound healthy; he didn't want to trouble her):
"Oh, no, no, no…this is Sauron. Remember? I called you a few minutes ago? Yeah. Well, I have physical form now…yes, yes I know its great. I'm excited, too. No, their trousers are too tight. Yes, I'll make sure they don't shed them...ok. Well, anyway, I called about that Mary Sue you promised me. Remember? Of course, if you're sick…I don't want to trouble you."
"No, it's ok. The only thing I have to do is write. Did you read "An Ounce of Blood"? See, Wasn't it good? I'm glad you think so…yes. Yes. No, I didn't witness anything first-hand. Well, just as long as the Orcs keep their trousers on, regardless of tightness. Ok. Mmhmm. I'm writing that Mary-Sue right now."
Sauron was overjoyed, and danced about the room happily, lavishly petting his beard and talking to it. Looking out of a window, he saw a teenage girl eyeing the Orcs and their trousers suspiciously as she bent over a computer, copper hair shielding her green eyes from view. Little Rat looked up, waved and disappeared.
"Well, that was strange…" Sauron mused. "But I get a Mary-Sue! A MARY SUE! A fangirl all of my own!"
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A FEW HOURS LATER…
Some Random Orc came running into Sauron's bedroom-thingy, where the Maia stood admiring his reflection. Again. Sauron tried to ignore the fact that this Orc's trousers were *obviously* too tight.
"I find this…creature…sneaking 'round here with a Ring…" Some Random Orc informed him rather proudly. "Brought to you to kill."
Seeing the long, perfect blond hair and slim legs, Sauron's first thought was:
'It's that dratted *Elf* again! No one has hair that perfect…or legs that slim and sculpted…yet…'
Some Random Orc dropped the figure on the floor, and walked away, whistling and wondering about a tailor. Just then, the alleged Elf stood up. Sauron's eyes practically bulged out. This was no Elf. Yes, the creature before him *did* have a perfectly sculpted body, full lips, deep blue eyes, and long, silky blonde hair. And she was about as tall as that Elf, too. But her blue eyes were strangely devoid of a little matter some of us like to call "intelligence" and she was giving him this simpering look that he considered nothing below *adorable*.
Almost gently, for a dark lord, Sauron knelt down and took her chin in one hand, barely suppressing a high, girly squeal of joy. (The other hand was excitedly stroking his new pet, his beard, whom he had named Beard.)
"What's your name, girl?" He growled softly, trying to appear impressive, yet gentle. (Ha! I'll show those pretty boys from the Fellowship a thing or two! It should have been *me* who was voted Hottest in the yearbook…not a tie between Frodo, Legolas and Aragorn! Pah…Aragorn's dirty anyway…)
She looked up at him with those simpering eyes, full of what he could only guess was love. (He had never seen that emotion before. He wouldn't know love if it came up and danced starkers before him, wearing a Wal-Mart smiley face on its arse.)
"My name is Mary Sue! I am also known as Sailor Earth, the all-powerful last minute addition to the Sailor Senshi, who they just *couldn't* get along without. I'm sixteen years old"---she giggled---" and also attended Hogwarts school of WitchCraft (faaaaaake! Go brush up on Wicca) and Wizardry for a few years after I transferred there when I was thirteen. All the boys there fell in love or lust with me, and of course the Slytherins became nice. I speak every single language ever recorded, and some that aren't, I dance like a harem girl, fight like a dragon in a pinch"---giggle- --"and sing like an angel. I also traveled briefly with the Fellowship and saved Gandalf, consoled Boromir and made sure he didn't die, took the blade for Frodo at the Weathertop, stopped the body before Pippin could knock it down the well, slew the Watcher in the Water and numerous other things, before nipping off with this nice piece of evil jewelry"---here, she casually threw it out the window in an impressive toss, where it landed in Mount Doom and burnt away to nothing---" signing Gollum up for counseling, and coming here to join *you*! All the members of the Fellowship wanted me, but I only thought about you." She giggled again, and twirled her blonde hair around her finger. Definitely a Mary Sue.
"You…were thinking...of me?"
"Yes!" She squealed in her musical voice, still lilting even when squealing. "Ohmygosh, Sauron, I am your *biggest* fan! No one in that Fellowship is a s sexy as you are! No one! Not the Hobbots, not that Elf (I have prettier hair, anyway) and not that dirty king dude, What's-his-name. He seriously needed a bath. But you, Sauron! You have power, you have prestige, you have those smoldering eyes, and that manliness! You really knew how to rule. Not to mention, you're a *great* jeweler. I cried so hard at the movie when Isildur cut off your pretty ring…"
Sauron could almost feel his own eyes tearing up. A fangirl! A Mary-Sue all for him! She would fill his ears with her adorable shrieking that only a fangirl can produce. That blonde hair and those blue eyes would haunt his dreams! And she said his ring was pretty! Most people were just, like, "Aaaah! Evil Destroy it! Kill, kill, kill!" No doubt about it, she was definitely the girl for him.
"I'm glad you think my jewelry is pretty…" Sauron began. "because I think I'll be making two new rings…engagement rings."
From behind the door, Little Rat burst out laughing, along with all the Orcs (who were now wearing new trousers that Mary Sue, who was also an expert seamstress, had given them.) She high-fived Some Random Orc for capturing the Mary Sue for her (she didn't like to invent them…it just meant that there would be one more of those…things…loosed on the world.) and crept off with her computer.
Sauron and Mary Sue lived happily ever after till the end of their days, spending lengthy hours petting and admiring Beard, and doing obscene things in the privacy of their own bedroom.
THE LONG-AWAITED END.
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A/N: Yeah, it was tripe, wasn't it?
Rating:PG-13
Author: Little Rat
Disclaimer: Nope, don't own *any* of this tripe, except for the Mary-Sue (actually, Sauron owns her…or maybe the devil does. I dunno.) I'm just playing around and probably profaning what the J.R.R. Tolkien was so gracious to give us. Yep, it's up to me to muck about in that garden. So I'm gonna do it. And I'm gonna use this fic to help me accomplish that!
Summary: Poor Sauron…all he wants is some attention! A Mary-Sue all of his own…a precious, aggravating blonde fangirl. And what the Sauron wants, Sauron gets. Inspired by the author J. Marie's "And Now, A Message From Sauron." Go read it! (After you finish this and review)
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(We see a girl in her teens sitting in front of a computer. On the screen is the climatic chapter of a slash fanfic, but she isn't typing anything. Instead, she is having coughing fits from time to time, or tapping her nails on the desk. This would be the author of this tripe, known as Little Rat.)
LR: *doubles over coughing, then returns to tapping nails* How am I going to make this scene work? I mean…slash writing isn't easy…and my story's doing pretty good; I don't wanna disappoint anyone by screwing up one of the most crucial scenes! Damn it…where's my muse!
*phone rings*
*LR picks up phone. We can see her face now, framed by copper hair. She nods and listens for a
moment, then her green eyes go wide.*
LR: *weakly* Are you serious?
Sauron: I'm afraid so.
LR: *groans* Can't it wait? I'm trying to do "An Ounce of Blood"! Have you read that one yet, m'lord? It's good…maybe it'll distract you until I have *time* to write you a M---"
Sauron: Damn that blonde Elf Legolas! Hang Haldir! It's always about the Elves! *Always*! Everything revolves around the Elves! And I'll tell you why. It's because they're *blond* and *shiny* that's wh---"
LR: Actually, it's quite frequently about Aragorn. Even the Hobbits, sometimes…
Sauron: Damn them all, wench! We've already been through this…it was my message that *inspired* you to write this, *remember*?
LR: *meekly* Yes, yes sir…I'm sure I can put "An Ounce of Blood" on hold to write this absolute *tripe* that's gonna earn me no end of flames, but hey…
Sauron: *dangerously* Good. *hangs up.*
LR: Damn. *hangs up.*
AND NOW, THE TRIPE SHALL BEGIN…
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It was an entirely havoc-ridden day in Mordor, and even the Orcs were choking on the dust in the air, and they were all whining anyway, but nothing out of the ordinary. The usual empty threats of mutiny, complaints that they were having a hard time getting in with the "in-crowd" of those hottie Uruk-Hai (Sauron would have to speak to Saruman about this…the little upstart shoulda known that creating cliques in the regiments wasn't a good thing. Whatever happened to peace and love within the ranks, for the well-being of supreme evil?!?) and, naturally, the occasional yell of "My trousers are too tight!"
Did the Orcs even *wear* trousers? The rightful Lord of the Rings (for yes, indeedy, he was) shuddered to think of the possible answers. Even so, Sauron was feeling miiiiiiiiiighty special on this, uh, fine day. Well, fine for him.
Despite the Orcs' endless complaints, despite the endlessly warring troops of authors debating whether he could or could not take physical form any more:
~*~*~*~*~
"No he can't! He abandoned physical form after the Ring was cut from his finger, remember?"
"Well, he's powerful! He could always take physical from again, if he wanted to! He just happens to think the Eye is cool!"
"We're telling you, ya great bunch of idiots, that Sauron can*not* take physical form! That goe against canon!"
"So does practically every fanfic ever written! That's why it's called *fanfiction*! We get to manipulate things to *our* will! Thus, Sauron is able to take physical form!"
"Oh, go shove it up your---"
~*~*~*~*~
ANYWAY…
Despite endlessly warring troops of authors debating whether Sauron could take physical form or not, the Lord had finally decided to go with the former group (Sure, the 'great eye wreathed in flame' thing looked wicked, but it grew to be sooooooo tedious) and assume physical form again. Why? Because he felt like it.
That shut up those canon-thumping extremists right quick. (No offense to people who write using only canon.) Even despite those cute little Hobbits, that androgynous-yet-masculine beauty of an Elf, and that wild-looking, dark Man who were all mucking about trying to destroy his pretty ring while all the fangirls swooned, Sauron was feeling pretty good. He had spent practically the whole day in front of a mirror, admiring his new physical self. He had given himself an almost impossibly tall body frame, (taller than Aragorn by quite a bit, something along the line of his *old* physical body) broad shoulders, lots of muscles and thick black hair and a beard. Sauron still had that whole flaming-eye thing going on, but who was he to complain? "I bet the fangirls will really go for it," he smirked to himself, petting his beard the way some sane people might pet their cat or whatever. Such a nice beard…so nice…so nice to stroke. Even Gimli would be jealous of his beard, he vowed. "Hang all those righteous, Fellowshippy- hippie types!" he growled. "All the women in Middle earth, or that enchanting land of authoresses will flock to *me*! Human girls, Elf maids, Dwarf women, Hobbit lasses, Orcish lovelies, Authoresses!" ---He was pretty convinced that authoresses were a most fair species, seeing as how they popped into Middle Earth quite often and ensnared someone, almost as often as…Mary Sues---" And even…dare I say it…MARY SUES! I, Sauron, can have one of those blonde, blue-eyed, impossibly multi-talented buxom Mary-Sues! Or maybe I want the warrior type…the type that is impossibly stoic, has a secret past, a fiery temper and rebellious streak, who swears off love only to find it! But ah…a Mary Sue, for me…I'll let them *have* the Ring, if only those peace-loving FellowsHippies will just bring me one precious Mary Sue!" Sauron was practically in tears after this rapture, as he stared into the mirror and admired his new form some more. Gradually, all this thinking of Mary Sues made him remember a certain green-eyed Authoress he had spoken to before.
"That little wench better not have forgotten that promise she made me and gone back to her little piece about those nancy Elves and blood, or whatever. She promised me a Mary Sue! If she won't give me one of those tempting lasses, I'll just have to have her guts for garters, now won't I!?!" Sauron ranted to his beard, stroking it and quite forgetting that he didn't *wear* garters. (Although he wasn't too sure about the Orcs. Or Saruman, for that matter…wizard-boi was looking *awfully* feminine these days…)
Reaching deep into a pocket of his *impressive* (not really) black trousers, (how can they be impressive? They're just trousers!) Sauron pulled out…a cell phone. Who knew where he had gotten it, but, hey.
"Hello. Is this the Authoress who parades around flaunting that story about the Elves and calling herself Little Rat, always taking care to mention that she's on a collab name as Wicked Spring?"
"Yes, this is me…and I don't *parade* or flaunt anything. I don't even have a following, jeez! I just write. Whaddaya want?" The Authoress's voice grew suspicious. "If you're that Nazgul who called me from Bree for a date, I already told you, I'm sick! Unless you wanna catch mono…" her talk was interrupted by a fit of coughing. When she stopped, Sauron said nervously and a tad politely into the phone (the poor thing didn't sound healthy; he didn't want to trouble her):
"Oh, no, no, no…this is Sauron. Remember? I called you a few minutes ago? Yeah. Well, I have physical form now…yes, yes I know its great. I'm excited, too. No, their trousers are too tight. Yes, I'll make sure they don't shed them...ok. Well, anyway, I called about that Mary Sue you promised me. Remember? Of course, if you're sick…I don't want to trouble you."
"No, it's ok. The only thing I have to do is write. Did you read "An Ounce of Blood"? See, Wasn't it good? I'm glad you think so…yes. Yes. No, I didn't witness anything first-hand. Well, just as long as the Orcs keep their trousers on, regardless of tightness. Ok. Mmhmm. I'm writing that Mary-Sue right now."
Sauron was overjoyed, and danced about the room happily, lavishly petting his beard and talking to it. Looking out of a window, he saw a teenage girl eyeing the Orcs and their trousers suspiciously as she bent over a computer, copper hair shielding her green eyes from view. Little Rat looked up, waved and disappeared.
"Well, that was strange…" Sauron mused. "But I get a Mary-Sue! A MARY SUE! A fangirl all of my own!"
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A FEW HOURS LATER…
Some Random Orc came running into Sauron's bedroom-thingy, where the Maia stood admiring his reflection. Again. Sauron tried to ignore the fact that this Orc's trousers were *obviously* too tight.
"I find this…creature…sneaking 'round here with a Ring…" Some Random Orc informed him rather proudly. "Brought to you to kill."
Seeing the long, perfect blond hair and slim legs, Sauron's first thought was:
'It's that dratted *Elf* again! No one has hair that perfect…or legs that slim and sculpted…yet…'
Some Random Orc dropped the figure on the floor, and walked away, whistling and wondering about a tailor. Just then, the alleged Elf stood up. Sauron's eyes practically bulged out. This was no Elf. Yes, the creature before him *did* have a perfectly sculpted body, full lips, deep blue eyes, and long, silky blonde hair. And she was about as tall as that Elf, too. But her blue eyes were strangely devoid of a little matter some of us like to call "intelligence" and she was giving him this simpering look that he considered nothing below *adorable*.
Almost gently, for a dark lord, Sauron knelt down and took her chin in one hand, barely suppressing a high, girly squeal of joy. (The other hand was excitedly stroking his new pet, his beard, whom he had named Beard.)
"What's your name, girl?" He growled softly, trying to appear impressive, yet gentle. (Ha! I'll show those pretty boys from the Fellowship a thing or two! It should have been *me* who was voted Hottest in the yearbook…not a tie between Frodo, Legolas and Aragorn! Pah…Aragorn's dirty anyway…)
She looked up at him with those simpering eyes, full of what he could only guess was love. (He had never seen that emotion before. He wouldn't know love if it came up and danced starkers before him, wearing a Wal-Mart smiley face on its arse.)
"My name is Mary Sue! I am also known as Sailor Earth, the all-powerful last minute addition to the Sailor Senshi, who they just *couldn't* get along without. I'm sixteen years old"---she giggled---" and also attended Hogwarts school of WitchCraft (faaaaaake! Go brush up on Wicca) and Wizardry for a few years after I transferred there when I was thirteen. All the boys there fell in love or lust with me, and of course the Slytherins became nice. I speak every single language ever recorded, and some that aren't, I dance like a harem girl, fight like a dragon in a pinch"---giggle- --"and sing like an angel. I also traveled briefly with the Fellowship and saved Gandalf, consoled Boromir and made sure he didn't die, took the blade for Frodo at the Weathertop, stopped the body before Pippin could knock it down the well, slew the Watcher in the Water and numerous other things, before nipping off with this nice piece of evil jewelry"---here, she casually threw it out the window in an impressive toss, where it landed in Mount Doom and burnt away to nothing---" signing Gollum up for counseling, and coming here to join *you*! All the members of the Fellowship wanted me, but I only thought about you." She giggled again, and twirled her blonde hair around her finger. Definitely a Mary Sue.
"You…were thinking...of me?"
"Yes!" She squealed in her musical voice, still lilting even when squealing. "Ohmygosh, Sauron, I am your *biggest* fan! No one in that Fellowship is a s sexy as you are! No one! Not the Hobbots, not that Elf (I have prettier hair, anyway) and not that dirty king dude, What's-his-name. He seriously needed a bath. But you, Sauron! You have power, you have prestige, you have those smoldering eyes, and that manliness! You really knew how to rule. Not to mention, you're a *great* jeweler. I cried so hard at the movie when Isildur cut off your pretty ring…"
Sauron could almost feel his own eyes tearing up. A fangirl! A Mary-Sue all for him! She would fill his ears with her adorable shrieking that only a fangirl can produce. That blonde hair and those blue eyes would haunt his dreams! And she said his ring was pretty! Most people were just, like, "Aaaah! Evil Destroy it! Kill, kill, kill!" No doubt about it, she was definitely the girl for him.
"I'm glad you think my jewelry is pretty…" Sauron began. "because I think I'll be making two new rings…engagement rings."
From behind the door, Little Rat burst out laughing, along with all the Orcs (who were now wearing new trousers that Mary Sue, who was also an expert seamstress, had given them.) She high-fived Some Random Orc for capturing the Mary Sue for her (she didn't like to invent them…it just meant that there would be one more of those…things…loosed on the world.) and crept off with her computer.
Sauron and Mary Sue lived happily ever after till the end of their days, spending lengthy hours petting and admiring Beard, and doing obscene things in the privacy of their own bedroom.
THE LONG-AWAITED END.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
A/N: Yeah, it was tripe, wasn't it?