Nemis and UCMEC go Last Alliance

by (ucmec@hotmail.com)

Nemis (Royal Worshipper to Little Ereinion)

Katy (also Fiona Rayne, and Keeper of Gollum's Baby Teeth and The Archenemy of Pop-up Ads)

Casey (Slave to Any Elf-lord That Will Have Her)

Joan Milligan (Keeper of Melkor's Green Underwear and Legolas' True Haircolor)

Kelsey (inventor of the perfect description of this fic: 'Mary Sueish yet seductive fanfic authors portrayed by themselves. Un-effeminate and irresistible Eves portrayed by members of the Last Alliance. Of course sans Legolas.'

Alena (Psychopomp and Hierophantess of the Easterling Lodge of the Golden Shovel of Imladris)

Autumn (also ShinElrond, Creator of the Different Story)

Harle (also Lady Harlequin, Self-proclaimed Samurai in the Service of Lord Gil-galad, Lord Elrond and UCMEC)

Reactions on reviews (by Nemis): to Mouse: about Melkor's Green underwear: Joan's part of the fic, so I won't/can't elaborate too greatly on it; it started as a joke on UCMEC (doesn't everything ;)) in which Joan thought I could get her interested in just about anything, including the true colour of Melkor's Underwear (which she insists is green, I personally think they're white with red polka-dots)

To jilian baade: about plot suggestions: we can't promise anything, but thanks for the suggestion!

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Chapter 6 Dinner in the ReallyBigtent

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Part 31 (in which Alena tries to cheer Nemis up)

Alena

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Joan leans over and nudges Harle.

"What do you think Nemis is up to?"

"Well, we'll just have to keep an eye on her and find out, I guess..." Harle whispers, narrowing her eyes across the table.

Meanwhile, Alena exchanges a glance with Elrond, also making a mental note to follow Nemis closely. Nevertheless, she tries to comfort the fearless leader of UCMEC.

"Look, this Dark Nemis, she's just another side of you, right? So theoretically, you should have all the powers she has. All we have to do is to get our plan together. After all, there is only one of her and nine of us."

"Eight. And evil always has the advantage when it's like this. I mean, it's not so much what powers one has, but how far one would go..." Nemis's voice trailed off.

"I bet you could take her down mano-a-mano, when the big battle comes. You just have to believe! Use the Force!"

"Give the motivational speaker shtick a miss, Alena," Nemis shrugs at Alena's over-enthusiasm. "And I don't think they have the Force on Middle-earth. Plus, everybody's basically running and drooling all over the place, Do we even have an actual plan?" But then she shakes herself out of her moodiness. Gil-galad alone, in only another hour's time!

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Part 32 (in which Fozzie Bear returns…)

Katy

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The meal continues on, Nemis still trying to think of her meeting with Gil-galad (I saw the card, does a major swoon) instead of the fact that her Dark alter ego is at this moment scheming with Fire-Guy up in his decidedly twisted scary tower. The rest are in spirits higher than hers, though that could range from not-as-low-as-Nemis-but-still-pretty-low to hyperactive.

Fëanor is giving dark glares at his son (who has thank goodness stopped sucking his thumb) while Casey is trying to gain a written declaration from Glorfindel that he will NOT let Arwen get anywhere near the horse he hasn't yet got. Katy and Maglor are both sulkily looking at their food (Maglor because of his less than enthused father and Katy because of being reminded about Fozzie Bear).

Elrond is trying to take it all in (going to take him sometime I think ;-)) While Joan is staring at Fëanor giving him the you'd better not even think about it glares.

The meal goes reasonably well, and Katy stands after her third helping of nice elven pudding (so nice in fact that I don't even know the name). "Where do we sleep? I need rest." She shoulders the puce bag.

"One of the attendants will escort you." Gil-galad nods to the guy next to him who is pouring Nemis more wine. (drowning her sorrows...HAH!)

Katy nods and follows the guy outta the tent. They walk through the collection of medium sized tents when suddenly a bleeping noise (rather like a certain yellow wrist watch) becomes audible.

"Er...can we hurry up?" Katy asks, frantically pulling at the attendant's sleeve.

"Certainly my Lady...ooof." The wind is knocked out of him during the collision with another elf.

The bleeping becomes louder and Katy throws herself at the new comer. "PLEASE! I WANNA GO SOMEWHERE SAFE FROM THE CHEAP ELECTRONIC SOUNDS!!!" She pleads, grasping the unfortunate elf's tunic in desperation.

A lamp is uncovered and the attendant (now floored) and Katy look into the face of none other than....

Erestor.

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Part 33 (in which the Samurai Decides to Meet Dark Nemis Head On...But is Stopped by A Certain Ringboy and is Rescued by a Certain Blonde Archer)

Harle

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Harle snickers when she hears Katy's piteous wail from outside the tent, which is followed by a crash (or, put more precisely, a splat) as two bodies collide and fall down on the mud around the Really Big Tent. 'Ah, the annoyances of technology! I truly pity Katy, though. Bless the True Valar that I didn't bring anything to annoy me that much!' It was a good thing that her little sister was not an LOTR fan, or else there would've been hell to pay if she got sucked into the Last Alliance with her.

But THIS little UCMEC Vala is getting bored (AGAIN!). There is really no one she can actually chat up to. Gil-galad is with Nemis, trying to bring her spirits up again with LOTS of wine (yum! Berry-like in taste but not too overwhelming!) and the promise of a private chat in one hour's time. Fëanor is no longer glaring at his son but seems pretty deep in his thoughts, and Harle would rather not interfere with him while in such a state (what's he thinking about? How to get back the Silmarils?). Casey and Glorfindel are still busy discussing stuff together that seems to involve Arwen and a horse. Joan is the only one to talk to her for the whole duration of supper, but now she is busy herself, sending glares at Fëanor that would make Sauron himself shrink down to the size of a pea.

After pushing the last remains of her Elven pudding around on her plate, she finally decides that supper is over for her. Harle slowly gets up, and bows to Lord Gil-galad, Lord Elrond, and Nemis. "My Lords and great, gracious UCMEC leader," she says, "may I please be excused? There is something I need to attend to."

Her lord Gil-galad nods, in the same grace and gravity that can be expected from the High-King of the Noldor. "You may, Lady Harle."

Nemis looks at her for a moment, then asks, "What are you going to do?"

Harle shrugs in response. "Meditate, maybe. Or if all else fails I can go to the battlefield and chop down a few Orcs. Excellent therapy, I tell ya; gets rid of all the stress."

"Oh," Nemis says with a nod. "Okay."

Harle grins. "Thank you." She is not surprised that no response has come yet from her lord Elrond, for he still seems busy trying to get his brain to digest all of these sudden occurrences that have come and upset his almost perfect world. She turns on her heel, and heads out of the tent, intent on finding Katy and resting up for a while in their own Really Big Tent (the UCMECians got a Really Big Tent all to themselves, thanks to the magnanimous generosity of her lord Gil-galad).

But as she was walking there, she managed to catch a glimpse of Mount Doom, and an idea formed in her mind. What if she went up there on her own, and took down Dark Nemis herself? Not only would she get her shoe back (she is currently wearing a pair of leather boots one of the Elves lent her, while her left shoe was gone), but also she would be able to avenge herself AND do Nemis a very big favor!!

With a happy and yet evil grin Harle steps forward to begin the long trudge down the hill, her naginata at the ready to cut a path for herself to Orodruin, when suddenly, a large, soft cloth resembling a thick blanket is dropped over her, blinding and incapacitating her for a moment.

"WHAT THE BLEEP!" Harle cries as someone yanks her naginata from her hands. "Hey, give that BACK!!! HEY!!!" But her shouts go unheeded as ropes are tied around her, the blanket still over her head and her body and making her feel like she's some sort of burrito.

Laughter sounds from all around her, followed by voices. They are male, but do not have the same melodic quality of the Elves. They are the voices of Men. "Clever ploy, Lord Isildur!" exclaims one.

A deeper one chuckles, and Harle can almost see him nod. "Aye, I do suppose you are right." A hand pokes her in the side through the blanket, and Harle nearly blows her top. She wants to kill this guy, but the problem is, she is weaponless. Without her naginata, she is completely helpless. "Now we shall find out what these strange... UCMECians... have been planning with Gil-galad and Elrond."

"There's no way in hell I'm going to tell you anything, Ringboy!" Harle screams back at him, though her voice loses its effectiveness due to the fact that the blanket is muffling her words.

"Tell me Lady, what can I...give you in exchange for the information you hold?"

"Nothing! A true Samurai cannot be bribed by anything! We are unquestionable in our loyalty to our leaders, and in this case, that unquestionable loyalty is given to Lord Gil-galad, Lord Elrond, and Nemis! If they say I can talk to you - which I highly doubt - I'll tell you anything you want to know, but since they didn't mention anything, then I won't!"

At that precise moment, another voice speaks, this time definitely that of an Elf. "Unhand the girl, Lord Isildur, or I shall have to report you to Gil-galad and the Lady Nemis herself. If you do not cooperate, then I shall take matters into my own hands."

There are several muttering sounds from around her, and soon, the ropes are gone, and the blanket is lifted from her head. Now finally able to breathe fresh air, Harle screams with joy. "THANK YOU, oh great and mighty savior of mine!" With that she jumps onto the nearest male object - which happens to have blonde hair and pointy ears, by the way - and promptly begins to hug the air out of him.

She is greeted by a wheezing cough. "Your gratitude is highly accepted, but I would be even more grateful if you allowed me to breathe."

"Oh, sorry!" Harle exclaims as she jumps off her rescuer. Then her jaw slackens as she stares at the person who has rescued her, and her cheeks promptly turn red. "Haldir?"

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Part 34 (in which Kelsey teaches Fëanor poker…)

Kelsey

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Meanwhile back in the really big tent, Kelsey was also growing listless. Everyone seemed engaged in fairly interesting pursuits such as drowning their sorrows in the bottom of Elvish wine. She rooted around in her pockets for something to amuse her and came across a dirty and bent pack of playing cards from Caesars in Atlantic City. She could play solitaire but really what fun was that? Then a fiendishly clever idea came into her head.
She strolled over to Fëanor as nonchalantly as possibly with a wolfish grin plastered across her face.
"Excuse me Feeny, what are you doing?"
"I am contemplating the return of my precious Silmarils." he said glowering.
"That's what I figured, look I have a proposition for you...I will help you get them back, I am a Vala after all, if you beat me at a game of cards."
"Cards?"
"You want 'em back or not? Because I'm sure Elrond or Gil Galad would be happy to take them..." she teased.
"No! No!" he dove to his knees before Kelsey, "I will do what you say oh great vala of... of.. of whatever you are the gracious Vala of."
"Thats more like it, ok the game is strip poker you'll learn as we go along."
She dealt out the cards and looked at him "Ok show me what you have."
He held out a full house. "Oh, sorry Feeny you lose look I have a 2, 5, 7, 8 and a jack."
"So I do not get my Silmarils?" he asked his bottom lip quivering and very unmanly tears brimming in his eyes.
"Not necessarily, that was just the first round, you now have to take off an article of clothing, the game isn't over until at least one elf is naked."
"But you are not an elf..."
"Don't quibble over semantics its not attractive. Now.." she grinned again "OFF WITH SOMETHING."

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Part 35 (in which we get a look in the Barad-dûr, and Gil-galad takes Nemis for a stroll)

Nemis

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Meanwhile, somewhere in the Barad-dûr…

Ringwraith Ostëa and Ringwraith Lemenya are watching Dark Nemis (I don't know if you can exactly call it watching, since, well Ringwraiths have no eyes) curiously, as she is sitting on one of the chairs of Sauron's conference room.

Dark Nemis has put her feet up, and darkly stares back, in a way that even scares the most powerful servants of the Dark Lord.

'Have you never seen a writer before?' She asks, a little irritated. 'Sheesh.'

The irritation is not because of the Ringwraiths, but rather because Sauron, because he is the "Dark Lord" (mimic along with you fingers if you like), thinks punctuality and bad-ass do not go well in the same sentence.

Dark Nemis disagrees (one of the few things Normal Nemis and she have in common: be bad, but keep to your schedule), but what can she do? It's not like you can force the Dark Lord out of his dressing room.

What would that guy be doing there, anyway? She muses. According to the movie, he was no beauty (and there remains that thing about fiery breath and touch and stuff, which worried her alter ego so much) (the weakling, always swooning at the sight of male Elves over an Age of age), but in the Silmarillion, when he was still Anatar, he must have been kinda cute.

Sure… A long, long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away… She smirks. She is right and ready to pull out her light-sabre and get jiggy with the Ringwraiths when indeed, Evil-Fire-Breath-Guy (a title she secretly enjoys, even though it was made up by those nitwit UCMECians) appears.

Sauron looks smug. (he's probably thinking about page-miles too)

'I do not get ficcers here often, an especially not their alter egos…'

Before he can continue, Dark Nemis has already lapsed into a comatose state laughing… Sauron glances at the Ringwraiths for some sort of confirmation but since they have no faces, doesn't really get more than a shrug. He can do nothing but wait until she is finished.

Wiping the tears from her eyes, she puts up her feet again.

Sauron looks at her, prying.

'What was that about?'

'Just something I read on-line… Something about you and my-almost-favourite-Elf… Hmm… You do get ficcers here, you-deceiver-you!'

Sauron gulps.

'I… uhm… Can we please get on with business?'

Dark Nemis smiles.

'You know about the UCMEC that has come to save Gil-galad?'

'I saw it in a Palantir I hacked, yes.' Sauron murmurs as he sits down and looks at Dark Nemis.

'Well, I guess you wouldn't want them to do that, right? Revenge and stuff.'

'And you want to help? Me?'

'Well, I want him and Elf-bo… I mean Elrond, the pretty little Peredhil, for myself.'

Sauron raises and eye-brow (inside info: Sauron has eyebrows duh-duh-duh who keeps playing that music?).

'Anything else?'

'One thing,' Dark Nemis replies, her face serious. '*I* want to kick Ring-boy into the Mountain. Personally…'

Sauron laughs evilly and leans towards her.

'There is only one thing…I never do business without a contract.'

He offers her a ring, but Dark Nemis only glares.

'I'm honoured, I'm sure, but I don't even know you, Evil-Fire-Brea… I mean, Melkor's side-kick-dude… ehm, well, what-ever-you-call-yourself-in-the-privacy-of-your-own-tower (at which point the title of Tolkien-character with the most names officially goes from Aragorn, aka Ellessar, aka Elfstone, aka Isil…err Ring-boy's heir, aka the Renewer, aka Longshanks, aka Wingfoot, aka Estel, aka Thorongil and, my personal favourite, TAFKAASOA (The Artist Formerly Known As Aragorn Son Of Arathorn), to Sauron (the Master, the Black One, the Freak in the Tower, blablablablablabla etc.etc.).

[note to nitpickers hanging around, not reviewing: No, 'the Freak in the Tower' is not officially in any of Tolkien's work (you can stop flipping through your collection of HoMe now)]

Back in the ReallyBigTent:

Rubbing his lower lip, Gil-galad watches Kelsey play poker with Fëanor.

Somehow, he suspects that Kelsey is not playing by the rules of the game, since she has been winning with cards Fëanor has previously lost with.

With a smile he observes the Elf shed his undershirt (after his shoes and tunic have already been lost). On the other side of the table, Casey seems to be trying to get Glorfindel to tell her something, but the old devil does not give in.

(Gil-galad knows about the two Glorfindels of course; he has to commend the Elf, even though he's blonde, for a very original way of escaping a betrothal)

Taking a deep breath, he looks at Nemis, who seems to be in some kind of involuntary drinking contest with his vice-regent.

'My Lady, will you join me for a stroll? Since it does not seem a good idea to break in on such…' He glances at Fëanor, who throws another hand of cards onto the table in anger, '…interesting goings-on.'

'Sure,' Nemis nods, taking the arm he subsequently offers her.

Outside, taking a better look at her, Nemis seems a little bit less gloomy.

'You feel better, my Lady?'

'Call me Nemis, Mr Gil-galad, sir.'

'Call me Ereinion, then.'

Nemis blushes, but still smiles.

'I feel better because, well, I just finished another chapter, and my new chapter of my other fic is going well too.'

The High-king raises an eyebrow.

'I do not understand… You have written something?'

Nemis smiles.

'I've finally decided in which shoulder you were hit, years back.'

Gil-galad opens his mouth, but suddenly looks speechless.

'It's like… I never can quite explain where I was hit with that arrow… Like it's just out of my mind's reach.'

'It's the right side.'

Gil-galad looks at her.

'You are correct…' He moves his hand to the shoulder. 'I can feel it now… But, how can you, I… I can feel it because you wrote this?'

Nemis nods.

'Like the thing with your hair colour… There are certain guidelines we chose to abide by, but some are very sketchy… Sometimes this is good.'

'When is it not good?'

'Well, I like you dark-haired.'

Gil-galad folds her arm under his.

'And what is this about me dying?'

Nemis swallows audibly.

'The writer who originally invented you, killed you off during this battle… No one is certain how it exactly happens, either you wrestle with Evil-Fire-breath-Guy and get killed, or you get squashed by his mace (which would be nice and Silmarillion-y), or, and this really worries me, you get burned to death.'

Gil-galad silently nods.

'Not nice to look forward to. But why would you care? If the original writer did not, why would you?'

Nemis stops and looks at him.

'I'm not sure, Mr Gil… Ereinion… You are about two-hundred times older than I am, you're an Elf, with insight and stuff… You tell me…'

The High-king smiles at Nemis.

'I think I know…' He catches her hand and slowly bends towards her.

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