A/N: The last day of
Crossover Sues Week. The Language-Mangling Sues Week is next,
including...*drumroll*...the Japanese fangirl Sue.
I had a couple requests for crossovers from different canons, but
unfortunately, I wasn't familiar with the series in question, so I didn't feel
able to do them. However, hopefully this last will be suitably horrifying.
Don't own the Tolkien characters, or the DragonLance characters; they're
copyright Tolkien and Wizards of the Coast respectively.
The Game of the Gods, 25
"It's confirmed?"
"Yes, Morgoth. I'm sorry." Varda looked mildly scandalized to hear
the words coming out of her own mouth.
Morgoth wasn't scandalized at all. To him, that Finwë had indeed escaped from
Mandos- to quote Vairë, "holding your diary and cackling like
Saruman"- was something be very, very sorry about.
"I don't see why, in this troubled time, I should have to assist you in
hauling the gaming table around," he said, trying to play for sympathy.
"Stuff it, Morgoth," Varda growled. "We're putting this here so
that we can guard you and keep an eye on the one remaining Silmaril at
the same time." She dragged the table the final few feet into place, at
the foot of the stair leading towards Eärendil's domain, and set it down with a
loud sigh. "Now. Ulmo is being tiresome, since he thinks guarding you is
the easier duty, and insisting I take my turn watching out for Fëanor. So we
have someone else to play you instead."
"Not anyone Fëanorian," said Morgoth. "Because I
refuse."
"I don't know how long you would live, if you refused a Fëanorian without
any of us around," said Varda, and smiled a little.
"What?" Morgoth shot out of his chair. "You- you're- you're
sympathizing with them!"
Varda wiped the smile off her face. "Am not."
"You smiled!"
"Did not," said Varda, and hastily turned as an Elf walked towards
them, apparently crowned with light. Morgoth squinted. "Ah, there you are,
Glorfindel. The table's all ready, and I assure you-" she gave Morgoth a
sharp look "-Morgoth will play nice."
"I won't play nice," said Morgoth, fighting the urge to cover his
eyes with his hand. "I'll cheat."
"For you, warning us of that is playing nice," said Varda, and nodded
once more to both of them. "I have to get to guard duty before Ulmo starts
hinting that I should put stars underwater, if I have that much time. Excuse
me." She hurried away.
Morgoth sat down on his side of the table. Glorfindel sat on the other side,
still shining steadily.
Morgoth got tired of squinting very quickly. "Dim the hair, will you?"
he snapped.
"Sorry." Glorfindel made what seemed to be a complicated motion with
his hands, and the light vanished under a hood. He gazed at Morgoth with wide,
innocent eyes. "I've been told that people admired it."
"I have no reason to admire you," said Morgoth.
Glorfindel blinked. "Really?"
"Really. You've opposed me and mine all along. And you killed my
Sue," Morgoth added, remembering his fairy Ringwraith. "I don't like
you."
Glorfindel just sat there staring at him, an expression of astonishment and
hurt on his face.
"Let's play," said Morgoth, and set his Sue free, trying to ignore
the feeling that his back was exposed to Fëanor. The problem was that
everywhere was exposed to Fëanor, in some way.
-------
"Gandalf has strayed from the path of true wizardry. Your task is to find
him and bring him back."
Raistlia raised her eyes to Dalamar's face and smiled slightly. "I
understand."
Dalamar flinched and looked away. The girl's bright golden eyes, and shimmering
silver hair, reminded him too much of his master, Raistlin, who had left five
holes in his chest that still bled. It wasn't surprising, of course, since she
was Raistlia, the daughter of Raistlin and Princess Laurana of Qualinesti, and
the most powerful mage ever to live. She had passed the Test of High Sorcery at
seven-
-----
"And I blazed to hold the Ringwraiths back," said Glorfindel. "And
defeated a Balrog. Why are you concentrating on her, and not me?"
Morgoth glared at him. "Why is it so important to you that I like you? Why
does it matter?"
"There's no one who doesn't like me," said Glorfindel, in a
voice of injured pride.
"There are at least two," said Morgoth. "I don't imagine that
Sauron is too fond of you either. Sauron?"
There was silence from under the table. Morgoth looked down, wondering if
Sauron had been left behind when they moved the table.
"Sauron and I had a little reconciliation," said Glorfindel, voice
smug. Morgoth looked up to see him trying out a winsome smile. "No one can
ever really hate me."
"You sound like Maedhros," Morgoth murmured before he could stop
himself.
Glorfindel blinked. "Maedhros? No, that crazy bastard thinks everyone's in
love with him. I just know that everyone likes and admires me. It's
different." He leaned close in and lowered his voice. "Besides,
between you and me, half the people Maedhros thinks are in love with him really
loathe him. His is a delusion. Mine is real."
"Are we playing, or not?" Morgoth asked pointedly, shoving his Sue
forward again.
Glorfindel studied the Sue, and sniffed. "How can she be of elvish blood?
Her hair isn't even shining properly."
"She's half-elven."
"Still-"
"Shut up," said Morgoth, and took great satisfaction in the shocked
look on Glorfindel's face before he plunged back into the game.
-----
She had passed the Test of High Sorcery at seven, and was now being sent to
retrieve Gandalf the Grey, who had strayed from the path of the true wizards.
He would not wear black, red, or white robes, but wore grey ones, and insisted
on deceiving the poor people of the neighboring continent of Middle-earth into
believing he was some kind of savior.
Raistlia had been raised in full respect for the true traditions of wizards.
She would bring him back.
Raistlia waited, but Dalamar didn't seem inclined to say any more. She rose,
bowed to him, and then turned and walked out through the Forest of Wayreth. The
trees that threatened everyone else bowed to her, and the unicorn she would
ride to Middle-earth came dancing out to greet her.
"Come, Flowervale," Raistlia told her, mounting her back. "We
should not lose time. Those poor people of Middle-earth!"
The unicorn tossed her head, snorted, and began to run, heading away in the
direction of the other continent.
-----
"What is it with you and unicorns?" Glorfindel sounded sulky.
Morgoth looked up with a smirk, thinking he had found the perfect taunt.
"I find them lovely, unlike you."
Glorfindel looked as if the insult had stricken him to the heart. He opened his
mouth, closed it, and then turned his head away and closed his eyes. His
shoulders shook with the sound of soft sobbing.
Morgoth laughed and turned back to the game, certain it would work this time.
-----
Flowervale had a long gallop, and at times they had to ride on ships that took
them west across the sea. But at last they saw the Grey Havens before them, and
Raistlia relaxed as she saw the western shores of Middle-earth looming.
-----
"Wait."
Morgoth looked up with a sigh. "Yes, O Ugly One?"
Glorfindel's lower lip trembled, but he said, "If she's sailing west from
this continent, how can she come to the western shores of Middle-earth?"
"She just can," said Morgoth. "By the way, that hairstyle
makes you look like an Orc."
Glorfindel buried his head in his hands.
-----
After receiving the greetings of Círdan, Raistlia rode to the House of Elrond.
She passed through the elvish magic with confidence. Her mother had been an
elf, after all, and her father the most powerful mage in the world. The magical
guardians that were smart recognized and bowed to her, and the others fled
screaming when Raistlia gave them a single glance from her golden eyes with the
hourglass pupils that she had inherited from her father.
Raistlia hadn't inherited his ability to see everything dying all around him,
but she could see corruption and evil, and she saw it in Gandalf the Grey, who
stood in front of the Council of Elrond and spun lying tales.
At the moment, he was saying something about Saruman holding him prisoner and
escaping on the back of an eagle.
"That is a lie."
Everyone turned and gaped at Raistlia as she stepped forth from the bushes, and
gaped further when Flowervale followed her. The unicorn nickered and tossed her
horn, flashing light back at everyone.
Elrond found his voice first. "How can you say that Gandalf the Grey is a
liar?"
Raistlia gave him an imperious glance, and was glad to see him fall backward.
She had been worried somewhat that the imperious Elflord would have the manners
of the elves of Krynn towards a half-elf, which was to say, none at all.
-----
"But Elrond is Peredhil himself," said Glorfindel, who had looked up.
Morgoth wavered between answering that and taunting Glorfindel. Taunting won.
"There you are," he said, gesturing to the Glorfindel at the Council.
"And you can't do anything to stop her. You don't even look as good as she
does."
Glorfindel said nothing.
------
"True wizards wear robes of only three colors," said Raistlia.
"White for those in the service of Solinari and good. Red for those in the
service of Lunitari and neutrality. Black for those in the service of Nuitari
and evil. Saruman the White is a true wizard, one who has tried to counteract
the lies of Gandalf the Grey. Gandalf strayed from the ways of our order long
ago, and now he is trying to spread lies about his fellow wizards. I must take
him back for trial."
"Who are you?" Gandalf spluttered.
Raistlia smiled. "The child of the most powerful mage in existence, old
man."
Gandalf chanted something quickly under his breath and shot a blast of fire at
her. Raistlia whirled her own staff out of the air, where it always was when
she wanted it, and brought it down to meet the blast of fire. It glowed
sullenly for a moment with heat, but the flames died.
"Do you see?" Raistlia asked calmly, advancing. "You cannot defeat
me. You cannot defeat Saruman the White, and the Wise, either."
The Council gaped at her. And Gandalf seemed to shrink before their eyes into a
little, frightened old man.
"Why should we believe you?" asked a voice behind her, and there came
the sound of a sword being drawn.
-----
"What?" Morgoth said, glaring at the board. He looked at Glorfindel.
The Elf's eyes were closed, the expression on his face intense.
He was somehow controlling his secondary self at the Council, Morgoth thought,
but he couldn't see how. Glorfindel couldn't be in two places at the same time,
couldn't be two people, and yet he was.
Before he could try to figure it out, Glorfindel shook back the hood from his
hair, and Morgoth shrieked as the light blinded him again.
-----
Raistlia turned to find a golden-haired elf on his feet and facing her. She
sighed.
"Who are you?" she asked politely.
"Glorfindel," said the elf. "And I have been beyond the sea, and
have power over the Seen and Unseen."
"Very nice," Raistlia drawled. "But why should I listen to
you?"
"Because you are talking nonsense," said Glorfindel. "There are
no wizards such as you described in Middle-earth. There are no wizards of red
robes or black robes. And Saruman the White has lately become Saruman of Many
Colors, as Gandalf described to us, so even that part of your nonsense
fails."
"But he was lying!" said Raistlia furiously, unable to comprehend
that someone didn't believe her. "I told you that."
Glorfindel smiled coldly. "I have known Gandalf," he answered,
"and I have never known him to lie. He has been a steadfast and faithful
friend to those in need since he came to Middle-earth." His eyes narrowed.
"Why should we trust you over him?"
"Because-" Raistlia hesitated, her confidence draining from her. Why
should they trust her, exactly? She was the daughter of the most powerful mage
in Krynn, but she didn't know if that mattered, here in Middle-earth.
But she knew that Gandalf couldn't be a real wizard, since he wore grey robes.
She shook her head and looked up defiantly. "Because I am telling the
truth."
Glorfindel laughed. "Even about the three orders of wizardry, when we have
none?"
Raistlia shook her head, bewildered. They should simply have believed her
without questioning. Why were they questioning?
"Now," said Glorfindel, his eyes narrowing further.
"Leave."
Raistlia wouldn't just do that, though. "Dalamar sent me here," she
said.
"Who?" Glorfindel asked.
"Saruman the White is good!" Raistlia insisted. "He must
be."
"She is on the side of Saruman," said Elrond. "No good can come
of this. Glorfindel, remove her from the Council."
"With pleasure, Lord Halfelven," said Glorfindel, and took Raistlia's
arm.
She tried to shake him off, and suddenly found herself impaled on his sword.
She stared up at him in astonishment as she sank towards the floor, certain
that his blade hadn't been in the right place to kill her.
Glorfindel's voice faded away as she sank into darkness. "I don't know. I
could have sworn she wasn't in the way. Careless of me..."
-----
Morgoth finally recovered his sight, though he knew his Sue was already dead,
and so it didn't matter. He could still glare at Glorfindel, though, and say,
"You're ugly. I always said so."
Glorfindel lifted his head haughtily, so that Morgoth once again couldn't see
his face through the blaze. His voice was smug, though. "I shouldn't have
listened to you. I should have remembered what Nienna told me."
"What Nienna told you?" Burning afterimages were taking over
Morgoth's eyes.
"That my inner beauty is as important as my outer beauty," said
Glorfindel. "And you can't take my inner beauty from me. And you're just a
meanie, anyway."
He leaped to his feet. "That was good therapy for me," he remarked.
"I think I'll tell Maglor. Nienna says that he needs to encounter other
personalities." He strolled away, leaving Morgoth to rub furiously at his
eyes.
When he could see again, there was a box on the table, bearing the tengwar
carving of an F.
Morgoth backed away in dread. It was something from Fëanor, no doubt, and he
wasn't going to open it.
The box popped open on its own, though, and disclosed nothing but a note.
Thank you for providing such a sufficient distraction. I walked right past
your table, and you never noticed me. Strange how they bother guarding the
heights, isn't it, and think that a puffed-up pouter and a jail-crow of Mandos
will guard the bottom way?
Fëanor.
Morgoth lifted his face in dread. Fëanor was somewhere above him, climbing, and
would probably get the third Silmaril soon enough.
Should he tell the Valar about it? The thought of Fëanor with all three
Silmarils again was intimidating.
On the other hand, the thought of facing Fëanor's wrath if he told...
Morgoth slid lower in his seat.
Wizardy in Middle-earth has nothing to do with how the D&D worlds
understand it. I wish more people knew that.