Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings. It
belongs to JRR Tolkien. All Authors and OCs used with permission.
Author's Note:
Due to popular request, the next chapter has been uploaded five days before the actual submission date! Huzzah... huzzah... meep. Special thanks to Saliva's "Click! Click! Boom!" for inspiring me to write this chapter double-double-quick! ^_^ Enjoy!
The File Cabinet
"You're my father!"
"No, I'm not."
"Yes, you are!"
"Get off of my robes, you filthy child."
I sat in the corner on a small wooden stool, looking out the window to avoid eye contact with the little Mary-Sue that was pawing at my heels. Eventually, I just tugged my hood over my face, so that hopefully I wouldn't have to see or smell the petty woodland creatures that frolicked and flew outdoors, or the young lady that claimed to be my daughter in some distant past.
"I'm telling you!" she wailed, "I'm the heir of the Nazgul!"
"Really?" I asked, "Are you really the heir of the Nazgul?"
"Yes!"
"...Sorry, I but I've never heard of the Nazgul, before. Now, go away."
"B-but you're a Nazgul!"
"No I'm not. I'm a Nazgǔl*. See the little carrot up there?"
The Mary-Sue stared in shock at me with her glazed, reddish, purple eyes. I wanted to gouge them out and feed it to the dogs. I could easily do so with just the armor that I wore. But at the moment, it almost felt like my ankle had snapped off or something, and I wasn't in the mood to run after she will scream for help.
"My name is Moriquendi," whimpered the girl, still tugging at my heels, desperate to prove to me that we were related. "It means Dark Elf. Can you not see that I am definitely an heir of yours?"
"Moriquendi is the elvish term for all of the elves who have not seen the Light of the Trees," I replied darkly. She looked confused. "If I had a daughter, she would know that, and the fact that I cannot stand your 'cute' little elfie phrases darting back and forth in what you call fanfiction. More like a bloody massacre of stupidity, if you ask for my input."
Miss Moriquendi's lip trembled. I'm glad that I couldn't actually see it, but I could smell her witless, pathetic fear. I get that from Movie-Frodo all the time. Simpering hobbits... She raised her hands and placed her palms in front of the blackness of where my face is supposed to be. "I have the magic of the Dark Lord!" she cried, "I should destroy you!"
I chuckled. "You can't. I'm a Nazgǔl, so you can't kill me." There was a sudden silence as the idea came to my head. "Ah, yes. That is right. I am an Ulaér, and you can't kill me." I pulled my foot back and swung it forth to her shin. She broke out into wild tears. "And I gloat at my abilities by laughing at your pain. Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!"
I stood up and unsheathed my special sword, smashing open the door and kicking the shins of more Mary-Sues as I went. But when the torches started coming out, I just had to make a mad dash for the next door. I'm not very good with fire. Fire isn't my friend.
---
Narcissus and Ari spotted me with Mary-Sue guts all over my robes only a few moments later, but they didn't bother to give a sign. Narcissus was carrying something long and bloody in her hands, but I wasn't quite in the mood to find out exactly what they were. She and Ari were grinning very evilly. Handing me the object in her hand, Narcissus said, "Here, Joe. Have a free Mary-Sue spinal cord." The cord drooped in my grasp. It was very wet. "I extracted it from her medulla oblongata. It goes 'squeakie!' when you twist it hard enough." She took her offering to demonstrate. Giving it a hard wring, the spinal cord went 'squeakie! Squeakie!'
"...Lovely..."
"See this?" growled Ari, pointing to a chart that she had extracted from her pocket. It was some sort of diagram explaining, "the genealogy of the Numenoreans. The Mary-Sues are going to memorize it."
"Are they now?"
"Yes. Unless," she extracted a pair of scissors from her pocket, too, "they want that nice long hair cut off."
"But I'm going to cut it off anyway!" cackled Narcissus.
As they burst off into a round of maniacal and devious laughter, I could not help thinking to myself, "These women are evilll-er than their male counterparts."
~To the Team Who Hopefully Runs Like the Wind~
"Nice going, bucko!" snapped Trisha to #4, taking the lead in front of Oni. Morikallo was in tag with him, followed by the Muses. The men had to carry Wisdom and Ember over their shoulders. Poor OCs were getting jostled violently, and they weren't even conscious of it.
"Shut up and keep running," muttered Oni, grabbing from his belt. At first, they thought he was going to pull out a gun and shoot the Sues to death, but instead, it was tiny capsule. "That, and hold your noses; don't breathe at all." Blam! Yesh, assassins and their fancy smokescreens. However, this particular composition seemed to be much more hazardous than your average smokescreen. It was a darker black, and smelled worse than a rotting Barrow-Wight stuffed in the same barrel for six Ages.
"What is that stuff?" gagged Morikallo, covering his nose as well as Ember's.
"Your average moldy and nasty things in nature," replied the dragon lord, "and... Mary-Sue perfumes."
"Aren't those supposed to smell like fragrant flowers?"
"Let me finish. The motives of a Mary-Sue is always at the extremes. Therefore, the scent of a Sue is usually lovely, or terrible."
"Sues never have a terrible smell."
"But when you chemically extract the sweetness from Sue-fumes, you always get an extreme; extreme opposite; an extremely disgusting smell, for this situation."
"...Where do you get all of this stuff?"
"...From the wrong side of the world, boy. That's all you need to know."
"Well, that," interrupted Trisha, "and that you better keep running, or you'll get flattened by the Mary-Sues that are charging after us right through your amazing smokescreen."
Oni looked over his shoulder. "Oh... good... gawd."
~To the Assassin Who's Going Into Denial~
Naurglahad put a hand up against the white window, her hot breath steaming the glass pane. She could not believe her eyes. This was an extreme defiance of the laws of FFNH. But even beyond that, she saw the defiance of what her matrimonial promise was. She didn't know if she wanted to smash through the window and settle things violently, or if she just wanted to slide to her knees and cry. Cry not just because she was getting hurt inside, but also because someone else was getting hurt, and another someone else was going to get hurt.
"Aw, who gives a damn? I'm a hell-raiser, after all!"
BAM! Naurglahad slammed through the window, rolling out into the blank white space that the window protected. Now, being back in the arena, she could see everything clearly. It was chaotic. Yes, she had found the captive Author's, but she had also found that they were in... some very interesting situations/ accommodations. The first thing she had to do was get the twelve little children to stop acting like maniacs. But how to do that? Simple. Kill the spider, extinguish the flames, send the angry mob away, unplug the blender, and slaughter the laughing monkey.
Her guns came out. First target: the spider. Choice of weapon: the shotgun.
Click. Click. Boom! Click. Click. Boom! Click. Click. Boom! In a flash of bright red smoke, and an explosion, the spider vanished. "Damn," thought the assassin, "I wanted bloody guts and a harder challenge. Blasted cheapie monsters. They don't make 'em like they used to!" In the sudden explosion the mob suddenly screamed and ran away, smashing into walls and getting hit by randomly falling flames.
Next target: the laughing monkey. Why? It annoyed her. It scared her. Choice of weapon: shotgun. Why? One blast should take its brain out. Click. Click. Boom!
"There are ape guts on my boots," she muttered, "my good, black leather boots! Screw primates."
In her anger, she whipped out her revolver, gave it a whirl, and shot high into the sky. It set off the water sprinklers. Why they hadn't set off earlier, she couldn't figure. But she didn't give a damn. There was one last obstacle she had to destroy, as she showed no emotion as the rabid blender set off into a cloud of sparks and eventually died.
Stepping over an Author's near unconscious body, she became the dark, bloody, and ashen assassin that many of her victims remembered at the last moments of their lives. Tossing her guns aside, she ignored several calls from the other Authors, and headed to the far corner of the room. She didn't need her guns. She didn't want her guns. This was going to be one of those special murders during which she would kill with her bare hands. In a flash, she grabbed the neck of the blonde elf that was trying to get the attention of a very disturbed and distressed Author.
"You filthy," she whispered coldly, "filthy, double-crossing cheater of a spouse." Her grip tightened on her victim's neck. He coughed and choked. "You do know that the punk that you're chasing after is the one who put us together." Again, her grip tightened. "Are you blind? Are you really the idiot that I thought you were?" The elf collided with the ground as Naurglahad slammed him down, pinning his chest to the earth. "Your son and daughter have been forsaken. Not only by you," many were starting to stare at the scene very attentively at this point, "but by me." The gun came to his head. "Because their mother is going to murder their father tonight." Click. "Good bye, Legolas."
*I thought that carrot goes up, not down, but that's the closest symbol I could get on this program; I could have sword there was an ^ somewhere... over the rainbow...
(singy-songy) Leggy's gonna' die! Leggy's gonna' die! Whee!
Author's Note:
Due to popular request, the next chapter has been uploaded five days before the actual submission date! Huzzah... huzzah... meep. Special thanks to Saliva's "Click! Click! Boom!" for inspiring me to write this chapter double-double-quick! ^_^ Enjoy!
The File Cabinet
"You're my father!"
"No, I'm not."
"Yes, you are!"
"Get off of my robes, you filthy child."
I sat in the corner on a small wooden stool, looking out the window to avoid eye contact with the little Mary-Sue that was pawing at my heels. Eventually, I just tugged my hood over my face, so that hopefully I wouldn't have to see or smell the petty woodland creatures that frolicked and flew outdoors, or the young lady that claimed to be my daughter in some distant past.
"I'm telling you!" she wailed, "I'm the heir of the Nazgul!"
"Really?" I asked, "Are you really the heir of the Nazgul?"
"Yes!"
"...Sorry, I but I've never heard of the Nazgul, before. Now, go away."
"B-but you're a Nazgul!"
"No I'm not. I'm a Nazgǔl*. See the little carrot up there?"
The Mary-Sue stared in shock at me with her glazed, reddish, purple eyes. I wanted to gouge them out and feed it to the dogs. I could easily do so with just the armor that I wore. But at the moment, it almost felt like my ankle had snapped off or something, and I wasn't in the mood to run after she will scream for help.
"My name is Moriquendi," whimpered the girl, still tugging at my heels, desperate to prove to me that we were related. "It means Dark Elf. Can you not see that I am definitely an heir of yours?"
"Moriquendi is the elvish term for all of the elves who have not seen the Light of the Trees," I replied darkly. She looked confused. "If I had a daughter, she would know that, and the fact that I cannot stand your 'cute' little elfie phrases darting back and forth in what you call fanfiction. More like a bloody massacre of stupidity, if you ask for my input."
Miss Moriquendi's lip trembled. I'm glad that I couldn't actually see it, but I could smell her witless, pathetic fear. I get that from Movie-Frodo all the time. Simpering hobbits... She raised her hands and placed her palms in front of the blackness of where my face is supposed to be. "I have the magic of the Dark Lord!" she cried, "I should destroy you!"
I chuckled. "You can't. I'm a Nazgǔl, so you can't kill me." There was a sudden silence as the idea came to my head. "Ah, yes. That is right. I am an Ulaér, and you can't kill me." I pulled my foot back and swung it forth to her shin. She broke out into wild tears. "And I gloat at my abilities by laughing at your pain. Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!"
I stood up and unsheathed my special sword, smashing open the door and kicking the shins of more Mary-Sues as I went. But when the torches started coming out, I just had to make a mad dash for the next door. I'm not very good with fire. Fire isn't my friend.
---
Narcissus and Ari spotted me with Mary-Sue guts all over my robes only a few moments later, but they didn't bother to give a sign. Narcissus was carrying something long and bloody in her hands, but I wasn't quite in the mood to find out exactly what they were. She and Ari were grinning very evilly. Handing me the object in her hand, Narcissus said, "Here, Joe. Have a free Mary-Sue spinal cord." The cord drooped in my grasp. It was very wet. "I extracted it from her medulla oblongata. It goes 'squeakie!' when you twist it hard enough." She took her offering to demonstrate. Giving it a hard wring, the spinal cord went 'squeakie! Squeakie!'
"...Lovely..."
"See this?" growled Ari, pointing to a chart that she had extracted from her pocket. It was some sort of diagram explaining, "the genealogy of the Numenoreans. The Mary-Sues are going to memorize it."
"Are they now?"
"Yes. Unless," she extracted a pair of scissors from her pocket, too, "they want that nice long hair cut off."
"But I'm going to cut it off anyway!" cackled Narcissus.
As they burst off into a round of maniacal and devious laughter, I could not help thinking to myself, "These women are evilll-er than their male counterparts."
~To the Team Who Hopefully Runs Like the Wind~
"Nice going, bucko!" snapped Trisha to #4, taking the lead in front of Oni. Morikallo was in tag with him, followed by the Muses. The men had to carry Wisdom and Ember over their shoulders. Poor OCs were getting jostled violently, and they weren't even conscious of it.
"Shut up and keep running," muttered Oni, grabbing from his belt. At first, they thought he was going to pull out a gun and shoot the Sues to death, but instead, it was tiny capsule. "That, and hold your noses; don't breathe at all." Blam! Yesh, assassins and their fancy smokescreens. However, this particular composition seemed to be much more hazardous than your average smokescreen. It was a darker black, and smelled worse than a rotting Barrow-Wight stuffed in the same barrel for six Ages.
"What is that stuff?" gagged Morikallo, covering his nose as well as Ember's.
"Your average moldy and nasty things in nature," replied the dragon lord, "and... Mary-Sue perfumes."
"Aren't those supposed to smell like fragrant flowers?"
"Let me finish. The motives of a Mary-Sue is always at the extremes. Therefore, the scent of a Sue is usually lovely, or terrible."
"Sues never have a terrible smell."
"But when you chemically extract the sweetness from Sue-fumes, you always get an extreme; extreme opposite; an extremely disgusting smell, for this situation."
"...Where do you get all of this stuff?"
"...From the wrong side of the world, boy. That's all you need to know."
"Well, that," interrupted Trisha, "and that you better keep running, or you'll get flattened by the Mary-Sues that are charging after us right through your amazing smokescreen."
Oni looked over his shoulder. "Oh... good... gawd."
~To the Assassin Who's Going Into Denial~
Naurglahad put a hand up against the white window, her hot breath steaming the glass pane. She could not believe her eyes. This was an extreme defiance of the laws of FFNH. But even beyond that, she saw the defiance of what her matrimonial promise was. She didn't know if she wanted to smash through the window and settle things violently, or if she just wanted to slide to her knees and cry. Cry not just because she was getting hurt inside, but also because someone else was getting hurt, and another someone else was going to get hurt.
"Aw, who gives a damn? I'm a hell-raiser, after all!"
BAM! Naurglahad slammed through the window, rolling out into the blank white space that the window protected. Now, being back in the arena, she could see everything clearly. It was chaotic. Yes, she had found the captive Author's, but she had also found that they were in... some very interesting situations/ accommodations. The first thing she had to do was get the twelve little children to stop acting like maniacs. But how to do that? Simple. Kill the spider, extinguish the flames, send the angry mob away, unplug the blender, and slaughter the laughing monkey.
Her guns came out. First target: the spider. Choice of weapon: the shotgun.
Click. Click. Boom! Click. Click. Boom! Click. Click. Boom! In a flash of bright red smoke, and an explosion, the spider vanished. "Damn," thought the assassin, "I wanted bloody guts and a harder challenge. Blasted cheapie monsters. They don't make 'em like they used to!" In the sudden explosion the mob suddenly screamed and ran away, smashing into walls and getting hit by randomly falling flames.
Next target: the laughing monkey. Why? It annoyed her. It scared her. Choice of weapon: shotgun. Why? One blast should take its brain out. Click. Click. Boom!
"There are ape guts on my boots," she muttered, "my good, black leather boots! Screw primates."
In her anger, she whipped out her revolver, gave it a whirl, and shot high into the sky. It set off the water sprinklers. Why they hadn't set off earlier, she couldn't figure. But she didn't give a damn. There was one last obstacle she had to destroy, as she showed no emotion as the rabid blender set off into a cloud of sparks and eventually died.
Stepping over an Author's near unconscious body, she became the dark, bloody, and ashen assassin that many of her victims remembered at the last moments of their lives. Tossing her guns aside, she ignored several calls from the other Authors, and headed to the far corner of the room. She didn't need her guns. She didn't want her guns. This was going to be one of those special murders during which she would kill with her bare hands. In a flash, she grabbed the neck of the blonde elf that was trying to get the attention of a very disturbed and distressed Author.
"You filthy," she whispered coldly, "filthy, double-crossing cheater of a spouse." Her grip tightened on her victim's neck. He coughed and choked. "You do know that the punk that you're chasing after is the one who put us together." Again, her grip tightened. "Are you blind? Are you really the idiot that I thought you were?" The elf collided with the ground as Naurglahad slammed him down, pinning his chest to the earth. "Your son and daughter have been forsaken. Not only by you," many were starting to stare at the scene very attentively at this point, "but by me." The gun came to his head. "Because their mother is going to murder their father tonight." Click. "Good bye, Legolas."
*I thought that carrot goes up, not down, but that's the closest symbol I could get on this program; I could have sword there was an ^ somewhere... over the rainbow...
(singy-songy) Leggy's gonna' die! Leggy's gonna' die! Whee!