What SHOULD Happen to All Mary Sues
(Wait! Where's Arwen?!)
When Krystyl came to, she found that she was lying on a stony riverbank. Her hair, with its "multi-faceted shimmering highlights," was horribly disheveled but for her it worked in that tousled, glamorous, Jon Bon Jovi sort of way. The sun on the water glittered less brilliantly than her cerulean pools. In transit, her shirt had been mysteriously and inexplicably ripped to reveal her unrealistically impressive cleavage (Shatner would have been proud).
Suddenly, and seemingly out of nowhere, a great white horse came barreling across the shallow water, nostrils flaring and bells jingling. Slumped in the saddle was a ratty looking little kid. Ew. He's kinda fat and who in the HELL let him leave the house looking like THAT? He is SO not an autumn—her infuriating internal monologue commented shallowly.
Krystyl whirled around at the sound of at least nine other horses and about 18 sets of cheap acrylic nails on a chalkboard. She put her hands over her ears and yelled at the gaggle of horsemen who screeched to a halt at the water's edge,
"What is your problem, assholes? Who do you think you are the *bleep*ing headless horsemen? It's not Halloween, you jerks!" Just then, the biggest and baddest of the black riders, sporting a pair of *flips through thesaurus* crimson eyes, straightened up ominously in his saddle and marched his horse out into the middle of the river. Though he did not speak, Krystyl got the distinct impression that his action was intended to mean "[uncomplimentary comparison to a female dog], I'd skin you like a fish if I wasn't after that little butterball on the horse." It was then, and only then (after she had used a fair number of her fingers for counting purposes), that she realized just exactly who it was she had insulted and who the "ratty looking fat kid" must have been.
"No! This isn't right! Where's Arwen? [POOP!]," she exclaimed as she tried REALLY hard to remember just what it was that Arwen had said in the movie…"Ah HA! Nemo hit thigh gear last oh Beth diary…[from the German for "to strike"!]…something something…BRUINEN!!...[FECAL MATTER!]…something…YOU LIAR!!!" she shouted triumphantly. If she hadn't known better she'd have thought that the Witch King was laughing at her. His disembodied wraith shoulders shook as though he were laughing. Krystyl, however, wasn't paying much attention to him any more. On the opposite bank a tall, slim, incredibly kissable guy was building a fire. After several moments' thought, an idea occurred to her—he must be an ELF! THAT MUST BE LEGOLAS!!! Leg-o-las, Leg-o-las, Leg-o-las-las-LAS!—her brain sang to the tune of the William Tell Overture. OK, don't freak out. Must appear suave and cool so that he thinks I'm a mature intelligent adult who is not too young for him to have sex with rather than a hormone-crazed-fifteen-year-old-horn-ball.
The Nazgûl were all jiggling with silent wraithish laughter and decidedly NOT paying enough attention to the water as right at that moment a bigass *consults thesaurus* deluge washed them downstream.
"Serves you right! That's what you get for laughing at Krystiana, Elf Maiden Warrior Princess!" Krystyl crowed. She had thought extensively about what she would want to be called if she ever found herself in Middle-earth, and today, as fortune would have it, she had.
Oh yeah, gloating isn't very attractive—she remembered and promptly shut up. When she looked back across the water toward *swoon* Leeeegolas…and those other guys…she experienced a mild heart palpitation. He was coming towards her. He was crossing the river and getting all wet and sexy in his clingy clothes. He was almost there!
"MOVE!" he barked, brushing past her and bounding up the hill. He grabbed the white hors…Asfaloth's (and for once she was right) reins, mounted quickly behind Frodo and tore off into the woods. It was then that Krystyl came to a devastating conclusion—he didn't sweep me off my feet. He didn't notice my great tits! Oh God NO!!! Legolas is GAY!!!
Immediately, she began to eye the scruffy (but muscular and undeniably hot) guy that was now trudging across the Ford followed by three more hobbits who she could only assume (again correct *gasp*) were Sam, Merry, and Pippin. How DARE he corrupt my sweet little elf boy?! In mere moments, she had worked herself into a foaming, angry, frenzy. Not unattractive…intense!—she assured herself as she stormed up to the man.
"Aragorn! You keep your dirty, bath-needing hands OFF MY precious, innocent little Leggy! Got it, bull-queer?!" she screeched. Without hesitation, Aragorn drew a dagger and set it to her throat.
"How do you know my true name, who is this "Leggy," and what is a bull-queer?" he demanded coolly.
"Listen, EVERYbody knows who you really are and we all really wish you'd, like, lay off the "Strider" [cowpie]. Leggy is Legolas…,"
"How do you know Legolas?" Aragorn interrupted.
"Legolas is a close personal friend of mine," she said snottily.
"And a bull-queer?" Krystyl thought fast (well…as fast as possible) to come up with something as Aragorn had not lowered his blade.
"Um…a bull-queer is a…uh…strong, noble…all around good guy," she answered, putting on her most dazzling, suburban, orthodontically straightened smile.
"Very well," he growled and walked on leading the three hobbits by her as he continued to Rivendell. Krystyl caught up and began to walk beside him. He is going to be king, after all. And I guess he doesn't smell THAT bad…smells kinda manly actually. If Legolas really IS gay, I guess I could settle for this one…
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AN: Sorry this has been so long…not that anyone has been banging down my door for another chapter…but here it is. I actually took it down because I didn't think I was going to continue (partly, because I wasn't getting much feedback or encouragement), but someone, Ceno I believe it was, made a request. It seems futile to beg for reviews so I'll just ask nicely. Could you please find it in the kindness of your heart, dear reader, to leave me a review? ~DR