Okay, basically pardon the formatting of this chapter, my tablet has gone ape and won't help me cut and paste indentations todayš
ALSO, IF YOU HAVE NOT YET, GO CHECK OUT 'MEAN ELVES' ON YOUTUBE, CAUSE HOLY CRAP THAT IS LIFE, I TELL YOU.
So! Welcome back, readers, to this chapter of TMoaIMS! (Crap, now it sounds like a game show. Aw well.)
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THIS CHAPTER IS DEDICATED TO: lmamc, BIGRTFAN001, Dear U. x .U, Silver Moonrise, Michelle1294, XXPay4XtraShippingsXX, Lady Vanya, mh21 (thank you for your review, btw; it was...informative š things are supposed to be confusing rn, many of your questions will be answered further down the road. Scouts honor! Part of this is simply humor, borderline crack!fic, as well. But thank you for the time you took to review so thoroughly.) Aragorn-Lord, and one Guest. YOU ARE ALL THE BEST. THIS IS FOR YOU.
A SHOUTOUT TO MY AWESOME BETA, StormwalkerofLorien, for being a great pal to me in the editing process. Thanks a million!
!WARNING!
THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS: WOUNDED MAIN CHARACTERS, FIRESIDE CUDDLING, ADORABLE HOBBIT SCENES, GORY INJURY DETAILS THAT YOU PROBABLY DON'T WANT, A DRAMATIC HORSE RIDER, GANDALF, RELATIONSHIP ISSUES, CONFESSIONS, AND GENERAL FUCK-UPS ON MARILYN'S PART.
YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.
NOW! ONWARD!
Chapter 10
In Which I Am Somewhat Incapacitated, and Say Some Dumbass Shit
Last Chapter:
. . .
The Nazgƻl held the blade over my heart, in a way that I was so, so glad I had kept from Frodo. Sweet, innocent Frodo.
But Aragorn came charging over, and using a large bit of branch from somewhere he hit Numero Uno from behind. The additional weight Aragorn put on my wrist was excruciating, but not as bad as the pain of the Morgƻl blade as it sliced into my left arm. The blade tumbled to the ground as the pale king tumbled over the edge of the cliff, screeching into the night. A cold burning pain shot through my blood, bringing new injury to my wrist; I screamed again, and my own voice seemed to echo in my mind.
The last thing I yelled?
"Agent down!"
All sound ceased to exist. There was only this dull, throbbing in the back of my mind. And the cold. So much of the grey, cloudy cold.
The last thing I saw was Aragorn, looking at me with tears in his wide, horrified eyes. I could see his mouth moving as he dropped his sword, but I couldn't hear the words. The tears leaked out and spilled over his cheeks as he fell to his knees and took me into his arms, holding me close; and I felt nothing. It was as if he didn't exist.
Or maybe, I thought foggily, I don't exist.
Then the cold swam before my eyes, the grey overtook me; and as they say in Middle earth, I knew no more.
. . .
When I woke up, it wasn't the way I'd hoped to.
I awoke to find myself laid out by a fire, while the hobbits worked feverishly boiling water and whispering orders to one another.
The world around me seemed dim. I knew by the light that it was still night timeā¦or rather, that it was night time again. We were not in the lookout; we were camped in the woods. I had no recollection of leaving Weathertop, or of anything sinceā¦sinceā¦
The pale king.
As soon as I'd remembered, a pain roared through my body, and I screamed. Quite without my consent my body convulsed and arched against the intense cold flame running through my veins. I was on fire, and frozen at the same time.
Yeah, it fucking sucked.
In a moment, Aragorn was there, bending over me with his hair falling in his eyes. I looked up at him, unable to form words in my agony. I whimpered and trembled as the dark magic fought against the other forces at play in me. The Deep Magic was putting up a fight, and I was stuck in the middle of it.
"Marilyn," Aragorn said, in that steadying tone of his. But I could see the fear in his eyes. He cupped my face in his hands, and I leaned into his touch. He was warm, by god he was warm. And soft. Though, not really fluffy... "You're freezing," he murmured, then called to the hobbits, "Clear a place by the fire!"
A moment later he had scooped me up in his arms and carried me right up to the flames. A blanket was spread out on the ground; my bedroll, I realized. But the fire didn't warm me the way he did; with what little strength I had in my right arm, I grabbed onto him and refused to let him go.
"Marilyn," Aragorn protested. "Marilyn, I can't help you ifā¦" I buried my face in his shirt. It was less dark there, the grey cold was further away. Yeah okay. Maybe fluffy too.
"She wants you, Strider," I heard Sam say in disbelief. Then, he added firmly, "Stay with her. What do you need?"
"Athelas," Aragorn said softly. I felt him stroke my hair gently, and more warmth flowed through me. It felt like I was a chunk of ice; my mind, my body, my soul. All of me was frozen solid, the grey mist consuming me inside out; and I had ceased to exist. But when he held meā¦I was almost real again. I tried to get closer to him, but the left side of me seemed to ignore when I told it to move.
"Athelas?" Sam asked confusedly.
I felt Aragorn move impatiently. "Kingsfoil."
"Aye, Kingsfoil. It's a weed."
"It may help to slow the poison," said Aragorn. "Though I fear something else is at work here; something beyond the affect of a Morgƻl blade." He set a hand to my cheek again, and I sighed tremulously. "Marilyn," he whispered close to me. I could feel his breath on my face. "Marilyn, open your eyes."
It was only then that I realized my eyes were still closed. How had I seen them then? I had seen them, all of them, what they were doing.
"Why won't she open her eyes?" I heard Frodo ask, and then, my eyes flickered open.
I realized that I hadn't really been seeing them. They had been grey in my mind, like the ghosts of the Wraiths. I had been seeing them with my soul, my grey infected soul. Now I saw them with my eyes, and the colors jumped out to meet me.
The red orange of the flames. Frodo's bright blue eyes watching me, so worried. Aragorn, holding me close. He looked so much more worn then the last time I'd seen him. He had been so alive, fighting alongside me. Now he looked like he hadn't slept for days.
When he saw my eyes open, he grew instantly alert. "Marilyn?" he asked, sitting up a little straighter. "Marilyn, cam I think you mean 'can'you hear me?"
I groaned, and blinked, slowly. The pressure behind my eyes was excruciating, forcing tears into them. I looked tearily up at Aragorn, who, I saw, was crying a little too.
"A-A-Aragorn?" I whispered hoarsely. He gave a little gasp of relief, and pulled me close against him.
"Marilyn, oh Marilyn," he breathed. I could feel his voice rumbling in his chest against my ear. My dull arm hung limply by my side, useless. "Oh, meleth nin. I thought Iā¦that youā¦" He gasped again, and I felt his breathing catch a little, likeā¦
Like he was crying.
Dammit, I made Aragorn cry again.
He pulled back, and looked at my face. "You frightened me, love," He said softly, stroking my cheek with his thumb. I sighed and leaned into his touch again. This seemed to surprise him, and a question arose in his eyes. But just then, Merry came over with a steaming bowl and knelt alongside us.
"Is she awake?" He asked, then smiled broadly when he saw me looking at him. "Hey! You're up!"
"Gently, Master Merry," Aragorn warned, pulling me a little closer.
"Oh, I won't bite." Merry took my limp hand in his. "Are you feeling any better?" he asked me.
"Iā¦Iā¦" I stuttered, then coughed weakly and cringed as a sharp pain shot through my lifeless arm. I noticed for the first time a bandage wrapped around the upper half, and a makeshift splint on my wrist. A thin stain of blood tinted the dark fabric, which I recognized as one of Sam's table napkins. Yes, Sam had brought cloth table napkins. "Never know when they'll be handy in a pinch," he'd protested, and I guessed now he was right.
"Easy," Aragorn muttered to me as I tried to sit up.
"Howā¦how longā¦AGH, MOTHER FRIGGINā¦" I moaned pitifully, and sagged back into Aragorn's arms.
"You are weak," he observed. "You must rest, Marilyn." He put a hand on my numb shoulder as if to hold me, back; but that small exertion had completely drained me. I wasn't about to move for awhile; especially as the grey mist was sneaking into my line of vision again.
"Frodo," I said quickly, as I began to panic. I could see strange shadows moving in the mist, and they unsettled me.
"I'm here," Frodo said, stepping back into my line of view. His blue eyes were filled with worry. "Don't worry, MJ, I'm fine. Listen to Aragorn; you must rest."
"Ughhh," I groaned, shifting again, then gasped and bit my lip as a sharp pain surged down my arm. A deeper red tint stained the napkin.
"She's bleeding again," said Aragorn. He looked over at Pippin. "How many more bandages do we have?"
Pippin wrung his hands. "Ah, well. See, I think, that was the last one," he said nervously.
Aragorn tossed his head irritably. "Marvelous," he said, and looked down at me with no small amount of concern in his eyes. "This dressing must be changed."
My pack sprang to mind, with all of its modern amenities and first aid kit. I made a sharp noise to get their attention. "Pack," I whispered.
Merry sprang up. "Where's MJ's pack?" he called out.
"By the food sacks," Sam said, rushing back into the clearing with a handful of plants. He smiled at me. "I've been watchin' over it for you, Miss MJ; until you were well again."
Gosh darn did I love these hobbits.
Aragorn took the plants from Sam; looking them over quickly before taking the bowl of hot water Merry had brought and tearing them into small pieces. Frodo sat beside me and took my unfeeling hand in his own, watching me carefully, as Merry came rushing over with my pack, staggering a little under its weight. Pippin trotted over and helped his cousin lower it to to the ground, and together they began to undo the cinch.
"Redā¦bag," I gasped, as Aragorn unwound the makeshift bandage from my arm. I felt nothing; but an odd unsettling tingling took over the left side of my body as the wound was handled.
"Red bag," Merry muttered as he sifted through the contents of the pack. "Ah! Red bag!" He held it up triumphantly. Aragorn paused in the unwrapping of my arm to take the bag from him.
It took Aragorn a minute to figure out the zipper, but when he'd opened it his eyes widened in surprise.
"Perfect," he breathed, finding the gauze and ace bandages. Then he finished unwrapping my arm.
He paused before pulling off the cloth. "You should look away," he told me gently. "Frodo, turn her head."
This was a trick, since he knew I wouldn't fight Frodo. I was slightly irritated at this, but at the same time I knew my arm must be pretty bad if he was making sure I didn't see it.
Frodo held my head in his lap, kindly brushing my bangs away from my eyes and every now and then looking over at what Aragorn was doing with a somewhat queasy look. "It's alright," he soothed. "You'll be well soon. And we'll be in Rivendell before long. Perhaps Gandalf will be there; he can heal you."
I heard the clink of Aragorn's ring as it hit the edge of the bowl. Then, a sharp sensation burned my arm. I gasped in pain as the Athelas did its work; it's healing aspects actually painful when combating the pain already in my bones.
Then, he finished wrapping up the wound. I was grateful that he knew what to do with the materials without me showing him; I had been worried that he wouldn't know what to do with them.
Finally, he set my arm down gently, and went to wipe his hands on some sort of towel. The amount of blood on his hands made my stomach turn, as it was my own blood and not the blood of an adversary. My breathing quickened and Frodo again sought to calm me, Aragorn casting a look back at me that was unreadable. I couldn't tell if he was despairing, or hopeful; or even a combination of the two, which was pretty likely.
I didn't like being wounded. Who did? But I was better at not being, and I didn't like other people having to care for me. I liked to do things for myself, and usually, on my own. But I was grateful that since I did need this help, it was coming from the people who probably cared the most about me in this world.
Just as Aragorn was putting away the kit, Merry's ears perked up. "Do you hear that?" he asked. The other hobbits looked up, confused.
"What is it, Meriadoc?" Aragorn asked quietly.
Merry frowned in concentration, before a look of fear took him. "Hoofbeats."
"From the opposite direction," Aragorn mused, rising to his feet with one hand on his sword hilt. I longed to do the same, but knew my dumbass body wasn't going to cooperate. "That is not the hoofbeat of a Wraith's steed," he said thoughtfully, while the hobbits around him had gone into a panic, grabbing their swords and standing around me in the way I'd taught them to do for Frodo. It was touching, really.
And guess who came riding into the clearing?
"Estel!"
Aragorn broke into a relived smile. "Arwen."
Arwen halted Asfaloth near the edge of the wood and dismounted, running to Aragorn and flinging her arms around his neck. My stomach cringed guiltily, like it did every time I saw them togetherā¦but not together. They had a hurried whispered exchange in Elvish before rushing towards me.
"Oh, Marilyn," Arwen breathed, kneeling beside me. I wheezed in a way that sounded almost wraith-like, then cringed. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she laid a hand on my wounded arm. "Dannen GĆl," she whispered, and I felt a dull warmth radiating from the pendant on my chest. At the same time, the Evenstar shone brightly around Arwen's neck. "Lasto bethneen tolo dan nan ngalad." The same words Elrond had spoken to me. The words she was supposed to say to Frodo.
That was the moment, when I saw Frodo standing in a huddled and concerned group with the rest of the hobbits, that I realized my mission had been a success.
"Missionā¦accomplished," I breathed, and blacked out a second time.
The second time I woke, it was a little better.
"Uggghhh," I groaned, and rolled over onto my right side. I had an itch on the tip of my nose, so I reached up and scratched at it.
Then, I opened my eyes, startled.
I had used my left hand.
Someone chuckled beside my bed. Guess who?
"You've been over tired of late, Marilyn," said the grey wizard.
I scowled at him, and pulled the blankets up higher around my head. "Glorfindel."
"Excuse me?" He quirked an eyebrow at my statement. "And good morning to you too."
"It was supposed to be Glorfindel." I propped myself up using my right elbow. "It should have been Glorfindel who found us. Arwen was very Peter Jackson style. Not that I wasn't glad to see her, but still."
Gandalf shook his head bemusedly at me. "When are you going to realize that this is not one of you movies? Or books, I might add; neither have the remotest bearing on how events will unfold."
"Great," I said, rolling my eyes. "You're about as helpful as the first time I met you."
The wizard made a low, dissatisfied grumble through his pipe.
"But I am grateful for the pack," I amended, yawning and giving him a thumbs-up. "That really came in handy. With Sam's napkins gone, I was seriously worried about what was going on my arm next." I looked at my arm. I was in a long sleeved nightgown, so I couldn't tell what was going on with it. I rolled up the sleeve, and found a thin scar.
"Okay, how long have I been sleeping for?" I demanded. "That is some serious healing." I poked at it, and only cringed slightly at the resulting pain.
"Elves have remarkable healing power; I thought that you would remember that much," Gandalf said wryly. I frowned at him. "But yes, you have slept long. It is now October the twenty fourth; meaning you have been unawares for nearly a week." He puffed at his pipe, eyes shining.
I glanced around at the empty room. "Sheesh, guess nobody wanted to stick around that long," I said crabbily.
"On the contrary, you have had a nearly constant entourage," the wizard corrected me. "They have merely stepped out for lunch."
"I see." I seemed to have run out of things to complain about, until I remembered how much I had to talk about plot wise. "Gandalf, I really don't know how to put this nicely," I began.
"Do you ever?" he replied, a slight smirk playing on his lips.
I scowled again. "Sometimes." I cleared my throat. "But my point is, Gandalf: what the hell?! You brought me into Middle earth with more plot changes then PJ ever would have dared to pull."
Gandalf seemed taken aback. "These changes are not MY doing," he said sternly. "They are decided by those above me. If you have a problem with your fate, I suggest you take it up with the Valar."
"Yeah, I'm sure THEY'LL listen," I scoffed.
"My point exactly. They do not have time for the trifling complaints of one woman, when the fate of the world as we know it hangs in the balance."
I sighed irritably. "Fine. But that doesn't leave me with much. What am I supposed to do? I'm trapped in this insane version of the story!" I paused, and looked suspiciously at him. "Hold on a secā¦can I get out?"
"NO," Gandalf said firmly. "I do not know how many times I must tell you, Marilyn; your fate is tied up with that of Middle earth. Unless the prophecy is fulfilled, unless Sauron's dark tower sits in utter ruin and Isildur's heir is enthroned in the citadel of Minas Tirith with Mariel's heir beside him, no peace will come to this world."
I sat bolt upright, cringing a little against the soreness in my left side. "Wait a goddamn minute," I said sharply. "You're saying thatā¦unless I MARRY him, the world will end?!"
Gandalf considered this. "Yes, essentially."
Flopping back in bed, I let my hair billow out around me like some sort of storm cloud. "Fuck. I am SO, royally screwed."
It took me a minute to realize why Gandalf was chuckling.
"Oh, very funny," I said, scowling at him.
"Marilyn, you do not cease to amaze me," Gandalf said, a smile in his voice. "Faced with the chance of a lifetime, the chance you have waited for many a year in your own world, you can see only bondage at the end of it all. Have you not considered that already your feelings for Aragorn have begun to change?" He adjusted his long grey sleeves in order to sit a bit more comfortably. I wondered how long he'd been there so far.
I grunted and looked away. "That doesn't matter." Then, I'll admit, I muttered a little something to myself about "Damn Viggo Mortensen beautyā¦ruggednessā¦.augh, fuck."
"But it does matter!" said Gandalf with a look of surprise. "If your will continues to weaken as it has over the past fortnight, it won't be long before your own curses are broken."
"Oh joy!" I snapped, throwing my hands up in mock excitement. "I'm gonna single handedly destroy the Tolkien canon by falling in love with a main canon character! Not that he's acting very canon, mind you; but the idea is still there."
"For the last time," Gandalf said, rising angrily, "This is NOT ONE OF YOUR STORIES!" As shown in the scene between Gandalf and Bilbo in the first movie, Gandalf grew darker, his presence seeming to stretch the room in his wrath.
I stared at him, unimpressed.
Eventually, he calmed down, and took his seat. "The fact that Aragorn is acting 'uncanon' as you say, serves as proof of the reality of your plight. According to the Lord Elrond, Aragorn acting IN canon would have meant him falling in love with the Lady Arwen, am I correct?"
I snorted. It occurred to me as I lay there that the idea of them together, as much as I had been unsettled by the idea of it not being reality initially, now made me almost angry.
"Then there you have it." He cleared his throat and went on. "Aragorn aside, you and I both know that saving Frodo was as much uncanon as anything; and that was YOUR decision entirely." He looked at me curiously. "Why did you do it?"
I sighed and rolled over on my right arm. "I know what happens," I said. "I mean, I know what should happen, just like you do. Frodo gets stabbed, and an unsettled feeling lingers long after his adventure, eventually driving him to take the last ship to Valinor."
"But why that?" Gandalf pressed me. "Why should it matter if he finds his peace across the Sea?"
"Because he belongs in the Shire!"I said, exasperated. "With Sam, Merry, Pippin. He deserves a life, Gandalf. And I want him to have it." I rubbed at my arm, then said more softly, "If it ensures that future can be his, then taking the blow for him was more than worth it."
I saw Gandalf look over towards the doorway, behind my back. I rolled over to see Frodo standing there, teary-eyed. He looked positively crushed.
"Uh, how long has he been standing there?"I asked Gandalf over my shoulder.
"Long enough."
I sat up, alarmed. "Frodo," I began, but the hobbit barreled over to me, jumping up onto my bed and flinging his arms around my neck. Crying.
Dammit, is it my unspoken job to make people cry here?! Fuck!
"Why didn't you tell me?" Frodo sobbed into my nightgown. "That night on Weathertop, when you told us you knew the Wraiths would come. Why didn't you tell me that they were looking for me?"
"We all knew it, Frodo," I said, "They seek the Ring above all else. I just hadn't realized I was a side target as well." I shivered a little at the thought of the pale king's glowing red eyes. "I needed you to focus on being prepared, not frightened for your life. You were scared enough as it was! You knew what hunted you. I just tried to create a littleā¦diversion." I stroked his head of dark floppy hair in a soothing way. "I don't regret what I did."
It took me a bit to get Frodo to stop weeping. In the meantime, I found a few unwanted tears slipping out of my own eyes. Finally, he pulled away and sat up, swiping at his eyes.
"How can you know?" he asked me, looking at me with worried blue eyes between swipes. "If I was meant to take the blow, how can you know what it will do to you?"
"Iā¦" my mouth fell shut. For once, I couldn't come up with an answer. "I don't know."
"What if it is you who is unsettled in Middle earth?" Frodo continued anxiously. "Already you are wary of Aragorn, you own betrothed. What if this wound is the eventual cause of your departure? What if, because of it, you reject your own fate?!"
"I already rejected my fate, long before Weathertop," I said uncertainly.
"Then you will not marry him?" Frodo cried, pulling away a little.
"Easy buddy; just cause I'm having some relationship issues doesn't mean I'm contagious."
"Have you heard nothing Gandalf has said?" Frodo stared at me, horrified. "The world will fall if you do not fulfill the prophecy!"
I looked away.
"The heirs must be united!" Frodo was growing more and more desperate. "Or the darkness will overcome!"
"Did he put you up to this?"
"Marilyn," Gandalf said, chastising me for my rudeness. But I was feeling more than a little betrayed.
"Well, I want to know! It seems that an awful lot is riding on me; and I'm not even supposed to be here!" I crossed my arms, and hid behind my bangs.
"If it has been given to you to become the Queen of Gondor in the stead of your forbearer, then it is your fate!" Gandalf was scowling at me.
"I'm friggin' tired of goddamn fate!" I said angrily. "First, I was GDIMEed. Then, I get paired off to Aragorn? Under threat of SUEing?" I laughed coldly. "I'm sorry. A Ranger is one thing; I think with time, in a different place, I might have pulled that off. But to expect me to marry the future King of Gondor is just a bit too much."
"You are of noble birth in your world, and this world," Gandalf argued.
"I'm not talking about birth status!" I cried. "I'm talking about me! I will be valardammed if I'm going to spend my life inside of a palace, being waited on; the same way my parents wanted me to be." I stiffened at the thought of them. "I will not be their good little girl, who sits and looks pretty at parties."
"That is not what is being asked of you."
"I swore never again!" I yelled at the wizard, who must have been fucking deaf to be missing my point. "I will not be anyone's prize. I have chosen my path; to be alone. Come what may, Aragorn can find himself a better Queen."
"He loves you." This came from Frodo, who said it very quietly and with honesty in his eyes.
I froze at this. Now I know that in my mind, I knew that he didā¦well, it might be more accurate to say I knew the curse was making him. But I never considered the fact that Aragorn might actually love me. Me. Not the idea of me, butā¦.me.
"He doesn't," I said, my voice catching in a way that showed more emotion then I'd meant it to. "He is in love with the idea of me; an idea of a girl who was promised to him from his youth, like a fairy tale princess in a tower. Something I never was. Something I never can be." I sat a moment and stared into space, startled by the feelings I was having. Yes, full on feelings, not stirrings. "One day, when we all stop fighting," I said softly, remembering his words. "When our curses fail and the mist of their deceits falls away, he will see the truth." I paused, overwhelmed by the bleakness creeping into my heart. "That I was never meant to love him. That I was never meant to love at all." I sighed, and looked up at Gandalf. "Then he will understand, that it was all just a delusion."
"Will he?" said a deep voice by the door. A voice I knew well; a voice that made my stomach jump every time I heard it. A voice that was now full of a quiet sadness, and yet at the same time, anger.
I looked to the door, and saw Aragorn standing there, clean and dressed in domestic garb. His face was impassive; but even from a distance I could see the turbulence in his eyes.
"Aragorn," said Gandalf, in a lighter way that told me he hadn't expected to find the man standing there. "Marilyn has only just awoken. Perhaps you mayā¦ forgive her if her thought is a bit addled," he said apologetically, throwing in a smile at the end for good measure. Very Ian McKellen style.
But Aragorn, damn insightful dude that he was, saw right through this little ruse. "Her words seem very eloquent for one who has just shaken off an enchanted sleep," he said, faintly accusing. I cringed, both at his tone and at his words. An enchanted sleep?
Da fuq, Deep Magic.
Gandalf wisely made no further reply, and with one last unreadable look in my direction Aragorn left. Frodo wore a heartbroken expression, his blue eyes suddenly brimming with tears again. "Then it has all been for nothing," he said miserably, and slid down off of my silken bed.
"Frodo," I began, but he gave me such a sad glance that it silenced me. He too wandered out of the room, leaving me alone with the wizard.
I stared at my hands in my lap for a minute or more, thoroughly confused. "What the hell?" I murmured to myself. "That just reinvented the term 'two birds with one stone'." But inside I was pretty messed up. Those were the two people I cared most about in Middle earth, I realized now, and I had just destroyed the hopes and aspirations of both in one go.
"I think," Gandalf said beside me, "That you and I had best go for a little walk." He rose from his chair, tucking away his pipe which, it seemed, had magically been snuffed and emptied.
I sighed.
Marilyn, -2.
Deep Magic, 0.
I was losing, big time.
Bwahahaha *-sobs* This was a chapter to write, I tell you.
Anywho, the poll is still up on my profile page. The question is:
Should Marilyn Comett of "The Misadventures of an Impervious Mary-Sue" become an interfandom 'canon jumper' after the events of ROTK (Return of the King)?
Please please PLEASE go vote on that. Also, if you're into the Avengers, go and check out my new story, Secrets of an Anarchist.
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Thanks for reading, my peoples!
-Ana