Disclaimer: My name is not J. R. R. Tolkien. Hint. Hint.
And the other Disclaimer, which isn't quite as necessary: This is not a spinoff of the PPC, but I completely owe the idea to the amazing adventures of Jay and Acacia-and, by part, to OFUM, since I got to the PPC through OFUM's website. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, read both "The Official Fanfiction University of Middle Earth" and the adventures of the PPC, which I don't think has an official title.
Wow! That was a long disclaimer.
Anyhow, settle in, get a cup of coffee/hot chocolate/tea/etc., settle in, and please please please please enjoy "The Middle-Earth Characters' Asylum"!
Or you could just call it MECA. Or Meckah, as Phoebe likes to call it. Or just "that fic."
Oh, what the heck. Enjoy it anyway.
Once upon a time…
That is how most stories begin, isn't it? The old ones do, anyway. "Once upon a time", or "Long ago".
The best stories begin, "In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit."
But that's irrelevant.
The point is that our story begins, once upon a time if you like, in a tiny, cluttered room with two people in it. These people are named Phoebe and Hannah-Leah. They are our main characters. Pay close attention.
Phoebe is slightly freckled, with dirty blond hair. She has the slightly hopeful look of people who think that everything won't turn out as bad as it could. She is, of course, wrong. She is in a pale blue T-shirt, a jean jacket, and long, pale blue jeans. Her hair is held back by a pale blue headband. Her shoes are pale blue. She is, overall, pale blue.
Hannah-Leah has brown hair in which she has dyed purple streaks. Her eyes are hazel, and suspicious and hard. Her face is deeply red from sunburn. She is in a hot-pink T-shirt screaming the legend FLOWER POWER. Her shorts are dark green, with a pink watermelon sewn onto the front pocket. Her sandals are practical. Her overall impression is complete color clashing.
Now that we've gotten past the introductions, let's spy-I mean listen to, of course, with their absolute permission, would you sign this contract here? thanks-on our friends.
"I still think we should have the movie poster in here," said Phoebe stubbornly.
"Which one?" asked Hannah-Leah tiredly.
"The one with Faramir kissing Eowyn," said Phoebe.
"We've been over this before," Hannah-Leah said patiently. "We are not going to get ourselves a poster of Faramir kissing Eowyn just so you can throw darts at Eowyn's face. I like Eowyn's face just the way it is. There is no need to throw darts at it. You need to control your anger. Chant with me: Ommmmmmm…"
"Ommmmmmm," Phoebe chanted reluctantly. "Ommmmmmm." She looked up suddenly. "How about a one with Eowyn slaying the Nazgul King?"
"No," said Hannah-Leah.
"How about one with Grima lusting after Eowyn?" said Phoebe.
"No," said Hannah-Leah.
"How about one with Eowyn disguised as Dernhelm?" said Phoebe.
"No," said Hannah-Leah.
"How about-" Phoebe began.
"What about no don't you understand?" said Hannah-Leah, rolling her eyes. "No posters of Eowyn. No taking out your anger on Eowyn. No sticking pins in little dolls that look like Eowyn."
"But Faramir is miiiiiiine!" wailed Phoebe.
Hannah-Leah grabbed Phoebe by the shoulders and spun her around to face her. "Faramir. Is. Not. Yours. Get it?"
Phoebe gave her puppy eyes. Hannah-Leah's own eyes found their way up to the ceiling. "Valar in the West, Phoebe, won't you shut up about Faramir? Next thing you know, you'll be writing Sue fics."
Even Phoebe was able to laugh at that. "Poor Farry-Warry. He's got to be in the late stages of insanity, with all those fanfictions I've seen. He needs rehab."
"An asylum," laughed Hannah-Leah.
"Somewhere to rest and revive," Phoebe chuckled.
There was the sudden crack of lightning that follows two people having the exact same idea at the exact same time.
Hannah-Leah's and Phoebe's eyes met.
"I have a laptop in back," said Phoebe. "Did you bring the Primmik?"
"Paper to Reality Matter Converter," Hannah-Leah recited with a long-suffering sigh. "PRMC if you must. But Primmik? I mean…" She glanced at Phoebe's face. "Yeah, yeah. I brought it."
Much typing and revision later, fourteen sheets of paper were sliding out of the printer in one corner of the small room. Another machine that glimmered with breen (1) light was giving off dubious beeps. Hannah-Leah, holding her breath, fed the first sheet of paper into the second thingy.
There was a quiet boom, one that begged you not to notice it, and a quiet burst of gold and silver light that filled the soul with joy, which also begged you not to notice it. The odd thing about things that beg you not to notice them is that they often succeed.
Unfortunately, it's hard to not notice something when the tiny, cluttered room you were standing in is now a huge, mediaeval Great Hall.
"It worked," said Phoebe cheerfully. "Oh goody."
There were thirteen few more quiet booms and flashes, and Phoebe and Hannah-Leah flashed through thirteen more rooms, finally ending up in a generic, bustling kitchen with generic, bustling cooks and maids competing to be the most generic and bustling.
"Nice work," Hannah-Leah told Phoebe approvingly. "I like the floor. Very, you know, clean."
The description of the floor was "shining clean, with the pale smell of cleanliness rising off its clean surface."
"But try a thesaurus next time, huh?" Hannah-Leah added, patting Phoebe on the back.
"Eh," sighed Phoebe as they walked back to the Great Hall. "What now?"
"We need a name," mused Hannah-Leah.
"Ooh! Acronym! Acronym!" Phoebe cried, clapping her hands together.
"Like, Hannahoebe," pondered Hannah-Leah, who was more given to combinations of words than lists. "Or Phoeah."
"Ooh! Ooh!" said Phoebe, jumping up and down with her hand in the air.
Hannah-Leah turned a sarcastic glare on her. "Just spit it out, Fee. You're not in school."
Phoebe cleared her throat. "The Authoritative Society for Providing an Asylum for Characters from Middle-Earth to Protect them from the Awful Fanfictions Inflicted upon Tolkien's Universe and Also for Divorcing Faramir and Eowyn and Marrying Faramir and Phoebe!"
There was a dead silence.
"ASPACMEPAFITUADFEMFP for short," said Phoebe, who didn't recognize a dead silence when she heard one. "Or Aspakmeepafeetooaddfemfip. It's great!"
There was some more dead silence.
"We are not," Hannah-Leah said quietly, "setting up a society for you to lust after Faramir some more. We are setting up a noble place where Middle-Earth people can rest and get their bearings. We are joining the fight against Mary Sues and all that comes with them. We are being pure, and true, and trying to set up something real and good. Now shut up about Faramir."
"How about the Noble Place Where Middle-Earth People Can Rest and Get their Bearings that Fights against Mary Sues and All that Comes with Them that is Pure and True and Sets Up Something Real and Good?" inquired Phoebe, who knew a good name when she saw one. "NPWMEPCRGBFSACTPTSUSRG. Nipwimepackergibfisactpitsusrig. It's got a kind of ring to it. Nipwimepackergibfisactpitsusrig. Nipwimepackergibfisactpitsusrig Nipwimepackergibfisactpitsusrig Nipwimepackergibfisactpitsusrig…
Hannah-Leah wacked Phoebe on the head. "How about something shorter?"
"That was short," said Phoebe, looking puzzled. "I could also suggest the Awesomely Awesome Society that Rescues Middle-Earth Characters, Especially-"
"I get the point," said Hannah-Leah. "Your infinitesimal brain can't come up was anything smaller than enormous. What about the Middle-Earth Characters' Asylum?"
"Meckah! Meckah! Meckah!" Phoebe squealed immediately.
Hannah-Leah shrugged. "If you wish. Now, let's start with Bilbo."
1: Breenbrown and green combined in the worst possible way.