In tribute to the many Sue authors who have come before us, we will now pay homage to Saruliel's great beauty. Clearing the throat, the narrator begins.

Saruliel was thin, but not scrawny, nor was she fat or pudgy. Her skin was a pale color that tanned in the summertime, but she didn't burn because she's an Elf and Elves don't do that. She was as graceful as a bird, with long luxurious red hair that fell down her back in ringlets of golden orange. Her eyes were a vivid green, greener than all the emeralds of the world. Around her swan-like neck hung a great pendant of silver which held a crystal that was full of bluish-purple flames (which had a tendency to provoke run-on sentences when not watched). Her clothing has been mentioned before, yet, in the tradition of the Sue authors who have gone before us, will be mentioned once again. For the sake of the reader, we will start another paragraph.

Saruliel wore the pants of Aragorn, though to her disappointment Aragorn was not in there with her. She had been given the spare shoes of Legolas, and the shirt of Boromir, as well as the tunic-coat of Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin. Around her shoulders was the spare cloak of Gandalf Greyhame, a moth-eaten garment which had seen better days. However, even this second-hand rainment could not disguise Saruliel's natural flawless beauty, or the fact that she was a Mary Sue.

We will now move on with the plot of the story. Thank you for your patience.

The Fellowship reached the chamber of Mazarbul with time to spare, thanks to the fact that no one insisted on gaping in awe at the Hall, as they had all seen it many times before. Saruliel led the way into the large record room, which, through lack of detail, was sprouting many uncanonical things. One of them being a working phonograph and CD player.

My loveliath-lovely-lov- Saruliel paused and took a fresh breath. she asked, trying out her new dialect. Pippin pretended to cough to cover his sniggering.

What be so funny? asked Saruliel. Whose tomb be this?

Gimli grunted and pointed to the stone coffin. Here lies Balin, son of-

Aih! Aih! Aih! Aih! Stayin' alive, stayin' alive! Aih! Aih! Aih! Aih! Stayin' allliiiiiivvvee... cried a voice suddenly. Gimli turned to look annoyedly at his (using the word of Saruliel) , Merry.

Och, what are you doing? he shouted over the horrendous wailing.

Merry appeared quite pleased with himself. You remember the little round shiny thing that we found a while ago? Well it fits into this thing, right here, said the Hobbit, pointing to the uncanonical stereo system.

Saruliel listened amazedly as the sounds of the Bee Gees filled the Dwarvish chamber. How did music from her world get here? The thought baffled her microscopic brain, and she went into a screen-saver mode.

Gandalf, meanwhile, was debating with Aragorn. But if it is a troll this time, we would be best off barricading that side of the room.

From the signs we have seen so far in this quest cycle it will most certainly be an Uruk. There were no Nazgul at Bree this time, and there is no well here. I think we might be in oldverse!

No, no, said Gandalf. An old-cycle is too unusual now. It used to be that we had only simple tasks in this purgatoric realm, reliving our old quest. But now, the new-cycle has begun, and we are constantly battling off these Sues'. I do not know where that term comes from, but I wish that we were left in peace.

Aragorn shrugged. Very well. We will prepare for a troll.

The Fellowship and Saruliel stood on their guard. With a hefty swing of his axe, Gimli destroyed the stereo system. The sounds of the Bee Gees were never again heard in Middle-earth, thank the Valar.

Suddenly the door burst open, and into the record room came a horde of yrch. Aragorn and Boromir made a quick job of the forerunners, their skills being raised to the umpteenth power through repetitions of the fight. Pouncing Cricket, meanwhile, melted back into the shadows and silently finished off the straggling orcs in true ninja fashion. It was a tribute to their skills that the fight lasted less than ten minutes.

Is it an Uruk or a troll? asked Merry, counting the number of orcs in his pile.

Quiet, young Took. We know not.

A boom shook the chamber, and Merry's question was quickly answered.

I was right! It is an Uruk! cried Aragorn happily as a great ugly head burst through the crumbling door.

I would not be so sure of that, Master Aragorn. Look at the rest of him, said Gimli, readying his axe.

From the chamber stepped a great... something. It had the head of an Uruk, definitely, but the body was, well, there was no other word for it, a troll. Merry let out a short bark of laughter. 'Tis a Truluk-lai!

Saruliel, who was not happy to be out of the narrative for this long, stepped forward, rainbow-colored lights brimming from her cupped hands. Globby hacky sacky pow-pow! she screamed. Jolts of lightening shot out from the Sue's fingertips, and collared the, well, . Die die die die! screamed Saruliel, and the beast fell to the floor, dead.

Near the back of the chamber, Sam pulled out his Yahtzee scorecard and created a new column next to his Enemies dead row. Naming it , he made a short mark. Thus the Truluk-lai went down in history.

The Fellowship and Saruliel hurried onward. As they ran, Pippin whispered to Boromir, Mayhap they will mistake the Balrog for the Watcher, and we might have a Balcher in the Rogter'.

Boromir grinned but kept his pacing. With tentacles in place of wings? he asked, hurrying around a corner.

There was a heavy crash behind them, and Aragorn urged them to move faster. A wave of heat spilled over the Fellowship like a goblet of warm milk over a fine linen tablecloth. It was coming.

Saruliel, you have the bridge, said Merry, brushing past the willowy Elf-maiden. We're all counting on you to beat the Balrog and save Frodo!

Gandalf raised his bushy eyebrows and instantly stumbled. I think I am getting too old to do this sort of thing. My years are almost spent, and an old Man like me has to watch himself. Oh, there goes my back...

Saruliel nodded, her golden red curls bobbing in the dim light cast by the Balrog's glow. I will do-eth, do it for thou, Noble Old Gandalf! And for thou, Noble Frodo!

She's so easy to manipulate, said Gandalf, as he hurried over the bridge with the rest of the Fellowship.

I *know*, said Merry, laughing to himself.

Saruliel stood on the Bridge of Khazad-dum, running over the made-up Elvish spells that would invoke her Sueish powers. Lounging on the other side, the Fellowship watched this confrontation take place, putting bets on how many syllables Saruliel would get out before the Balrog had eaten her.

I say twelve, said Frodo. And I bet my faux One Ring substitute on it.

Boromir's eyes glinted. Okay, so it wasn't the real One Ring, but it still had sentimental value. I say fifteen, and wager this chunk of mithril that I found in the deeps of Moria, left over from the Elder Days.

Gimli poked at the metal that Boromir removed from his pack and shook his head. This isn't mithril, tis wadded up aluminum. Though I have never seen it in such thin sheets.

Very well, this stack of alumin-

Frodo examined the wad of aluminum foil and smelled the onion sauce coming from it. Where did you get this? It doesn't look like anything from our Weird Mathoms sack.

Boromir scratched the back of his neck embarrassedly. Weeeeellll... I found it, back in the Chamber of Mazarbul. I think it belonged to one of the Dwarves. By the way, Gimli, what is Subway'? In Khuzdul, I mean.

Gimli furrowed his brows, perplexed. I am not- He was cut off by a tremendous cracking of stone as the Balrog ignored all rules of common courtesy and burst through the wall instead of bothering to use the door.

screamed the Balrog as it smashed into the cavern. WWWRRROOO- Oh, hi! Nice to see you again, Gandalf! How are things on the outside?

Gandalf tipped the brim of his hat and nodded to the demonic Maia. Reasonable. I see you have broken the trance of Author Influence?

The Balrog sniffed, nearly inhaling Saruliel. Oh yes, quite a long time ago. I was just pulling your leg those last couple of times. Say, why don't you join me for some tea on top of Zirak-zigul? We certainly have a lot to catch up on since the First Age, don't we?

Ah, you see... began Gandalf, appraising the rest of the Fellowship. Then he saw Saruliel, and decided that he would be a truly lousy person if he did not take the time to catch up with old acquaintances. I think that would be a lovely idea.

But Gandalf- started Aragorn, whining with all of his Numenorean might.

I will see you later, said Gandalf, glancing meaningfully at Saruliel. And do try to keep her... *away* from Legolas.

Aragorn sighed. Yes, Gandalf.

And *don't* let-

I *know* Gandalf, replied Aragorn, with the air of a husband being told by his wife to not let those filthy orcs tramp all over the living room.

Very well, said Gandalf. The Balrog did an ungainly hop-step and fluttered off the bridge, then Gandalf took a running leap and cast himself into the chasm. I'll seeenndd yooouu a pooosstcaaarrdd! he called back, falling into the dark abyss.

It took Saruliel about ten minutes to register what had happened. And then she let out a great wail of anguish. I didn't get to fiiiigghhhtt! Now Legolas doesn't liiikke meeeeeee!

I hate to break it to you, Saruliel, but Legolas never liked you much to begin with, said Frodo, with the air of one explaining to a toddler why it is that their friends don't like it when said toddler pulls on their hair and steals their juice.

My life has no meaning! cried Saruliel. I knew it! I knew it when he wrote that stuff on the walls! I have superior female instincts about these things! Oh, woe is me, woe to the woe of Saruliel-

An orc arrow grazed her shoulder, and Aragorn rubbed his forehead. They would never get out of Moria if Saruliel didn't move a bit faster. Merry and Pippin grabbed Saruliel's arms, trying to pull her out, but to no avail.

Oh I am so befrought with cursed love! cried Saruliel. Oh, what a cruel fate this is! Oh dear Legolas who- Hey, put me down! Aragorn! You can't just pick me up and carry...

For Aragorn had done what had worked last time on Caradhras. He had picked up Saruliel and slung her over his shoulder, and was now running for the door, not caring when Saruliel's head knocked into the wall.

Bang. Crash. Thump. That hurts! Splat.

Thus Fellowship of the Ring left Moria.