-THE GAMES OF THE GODS-
-Disclaimer:-
CS: I own nothing but the over 13,000 words I've pounded out in the past 6 days. *twitch*
Rachel: Out of curiosity, why are you doing this to yourself?
CS: I have no idea...I could be doing schoolwork, maybe finishing that overdue report, but noooo, I'm writing a 50,000 word novel in a month...
Glorfindel: I say you're masochistic.
CS: *whacks Glorfindel* Shut up, you, I am not.
Glorfindel: *wobbling around* Er, right, my mistake - sadistic.
CS: Don't make me borrow Morgoth's Balrogs.
Glorfindel: Meep! I take it back!
-24: Philophosizing-
That supper was not the end of Gandalf's questions, of course. Gandalf cornered me after lunch the next day and asked me to 'take a walk' with him. It was more of an order than a request, really, but I knew I was going to have to talk with him at some point, so I didn't really mind.
We walked in silence for some time, simply wandering through the gardens of Rivendell. Eventually, however, it became apparent that Gandalf was heading for the more secluded and quiet areas of Rivendell, where there would be no one to overhear.
"Elrond has told me of where you come from." Gandalf said finally.
"Good for him. Though, once again, I don't recall ever telling him." I said.
"He said he had Glorfindel tell him the day after your return." Gandalf said.
"Ah." I said. "Figures."
"I have talked with Elladan and Elrohir about where you come from, as well." Gandalf said.
"Er, good for you." I said, wondering where this was going.
"And Boromir." Gandalf added. I eyed him.
"So a lot of people know where I come from. What of it?" I asked.
"I have gotten three different stories from those four people." Gandalf replied, looking at me out of the corner of his eye. "Which one is true?"
"Glorfindel's." I replied promptly. No use lying to the wizard. "Elladan and Elrohir just got a simplified version for the sake of them needing an explanation, and Boromir got a severely edited one so that his brain wouldn't break." Gandalf nodded knowingly, though he seemed amused at my reason for why I told Boromir the version I did.
A short silence followed, and then I spoke up again. "So, did you just want to go for a walk with me to ask me questions you already know the answers to, or was there something else?"
"I wanted some more clarification about this...'Mary-Sue' that I keep hearing about in relation to you. All your stories mention it, in some form or another, yet no one seems to explain to me exactly what it is." Gandalf said with a light frown. I sighed.
"Ok, you know that the history of the Third Age is written up in books in my world?" I asked, and Gandalf nodded. "Well, people in my world like the story of the Third Age a whole lot. They like it even more because it has so many main male 'characters' in it.
"But I'm not really starting where I should. Before I even explain to you about my world's strange obsession with Middle-Earth, I need to tell you a bit about it. Foremost, you have to understand that beauty is highly prized in my world. Just about everything relies on it. There's a saying at home that goes 'talent can only take you so far', and, unfortunately, its true there. Less talented people get given jobs or promoted above more talented people simply because they look better. So with that sort of an attitude, you can imagine what sort of a stir even the concept of Elves - perfect, immortal beings - would cause.
"And then there's the appeal of the heroism, adventure and power that will become closely tied with the main players in the end of the Age. Heroism and adventure are very rare commodities in my world, a world where most dangers are ruthlessly struck down with words and papers and treaties. Some people have taken to doing stunts so dangerous that a simple mistake could mean death just to get some adventure. And heroism? It's still there, I suppose, but not on such a grandiose scale as here. Hero's in my day and age are those who showed 'exceptional courage' by saving their bother or sister from certain death in some way or another. Admirable, to be sure, but not much compared to saving the entire known world. That sort of heroism draws even more people into the story.
"Of course, there are always the morbid and criminally insane people who are just attracted to Middle-Earth because, hey, you don't get stuck in jail for life if you kill someone here! Well, if you get caught, and it was for no reason, you do. For the most part, though, you can get away with killing as revenge, or mercy killing someone who doesn't want to live, and all that. You become the newest incarnation of the devil himself if you do anything like that at home."
"Devil?" Gandalf asked in curiosity.
"Oh, hm, sorry, ultimate evil. Think Morgoth at the height of his evilness. Supposedly keeper of all the wicked souls of the world, too." Gandalf nodded in understanding, and I continued. "So the tale of the Third Age of Middle-Earth is extremely attractive to most of the people on my world, for many different reasons. Most of the people attracted to Middle-Earth however, are, sadly enough, teenage girls. Why? Because they like all the 'hot guys' that they imagine nancing around. Which, to be fair, is true. Still, it's sad.
"Of course, everyone on my world believes that Middle-Earth is naught but a tale. However, they want this world, this time, to be real so badly, for all their various different reasons, that they start writing stories about it. About what would happen if this character did that, or if someone showed up and changed this, or even just using the setting of Middle-Earth to tell a tale with no relation to the end of the Third Age at all. Sometimes they write different versions of the end of the Third Age. Sometimes they take the characters from the end of the Third Age and put them in an entirely new setting, just to explore what can be done. Most commonly, they will write about some main character from the end of the Third Age meeting a character of their making and falling in love, no matter how unlikely the pairing. Just about any way they can write about Middle-Earth, they have done so.
"Of course, not everyone in my world is a good writer. Heck, most of them are horrible. Added to that is the fact that these stories of Middle-Earth aren't considered 'real writing' by the general populace - of which I am part of - and often scorned. So most of the authors of these stories don't even try to polish their stories to something acceptable. They use abbreviations, shortcuts, miss-spell words, don't use proper grammar - in any language. And that's not even TOUCHING on their plots. Some of those plots are so inane you have to just stop and think if there even WAS a plot, or if it was just mindless drivel.
"The worst of these stories discerning readers call 'Mary-Sue's. They are generally of the variety of a character of the writers making meeting up with one of the main characters and falling in love, usually before you can say 'Bob's my uncle'. They are also, generally, horribly written, though some authors do write them fairly well. The most defining mark of these 'Mary-Sue's, though, is that the character that the author has brought in is creepily perfect. We're not talking about Elvish perfect. We're talking, they can do anything, anywhere, anytime, never having done it before, and do it perfectly, not to mention remain stunningly beautiful the entire time. The exception to this rule, of course, is in fighting off Orcs. They can never do that, because their Hero always has to save them from the Nasty Orcses." I stopped and glanced at Gandalf. "Am I still making sense?"
"Yes." Gandalf said with a small smile.
"Good. Anyways. The most common plot for these 'Mary-Sue's is usually some girl - modeled after the author, of course - transporting, by some means, from my world to Middle-Earth. In fact, some people label any story that revolves around a girl from my world 'falling' into Middle-Earth, as we call it, as a Mary-Sue." I said.
"Which is why you were so certain you were becoming one of these 'Mary-Sue's?" Gandalf asked, and I nodded.
"Exactly. Which, for me, is a horrible thing, since I've always viewed these stories written about Middle-Earth as an abomination that need to be destroyed. The only few I've ever read were due to Kari cajoling and begging until I gave in. Also, I like to be accepted for who I am. I don't put on airs for people to make them like me, and having those airs thrust on me was just about the deepest insult I can think of." I replied.
"Fascinating." Gandalf murmured.
"I'm sure." I said dryly. There was silence as we walked.
"So what made you fear so surely that you were becoming a Mary-Sue, besides your 'falling' into Middle-Earth? You sounded as if you did not believe that all of these stories your worlds people write that involve one of them transporting to Middle-Earth are Mary-Sues." Gandalf said after awhile.
"Oh, little things here and there. Most primarily, I'd suddenly become scarily beautiful, had blonde hair, and got those few extra inches I always wanted. There was also the fact that all the Elves accepted us so readily, and they didn't even care that Kari called Eregion 'Hollin', which no Elf that lived there should have done." I said. "Oh, and of course, there's the little fact that -" I paused and concentrated, mentally switching from Common to Elvish, something I'd practiced over the years whenever I got bored. "- I can now speak three languages, when I had trouble learning ANY at home." I finished in Elvish. Gandalf blinked at me in surprise for the last part.
"You speak Quenya?" he asked incredulously. I groaned.
"Make that four languages." I said, speaking in Common once again. "Gah, I bet if a Dwarf popped up right now, I could speak Dwarvish to it. Hell, I'd probably understand Black Speech." Gandalf looked at me, amused.
"Was there anything else?" he asked.
"No, that was about it." I replied, then frowned slightly, "Well, there was Kari and her practically instantaneous falling in love with Elrohir. But I'm somewhat of a romantic, and believe in love at first sight, so that doesn't bother me all that much. Anymore."
"And so you manage to explain away the only truly obvious indication that you might have been becoming a Mary-Sue." Gandalf said in amusement. I glanced at him.
"You need to stop smoking pipe weed. My change in looks was by far the most obvious indication." I said.
"Ah yes, but tell me. In all your travellings around Middle-Earth, and in the tales you read of Middle-Earth before coming here, did you ever hear of an Elf that looked anything like you?" Gandalf asked. I frowned.
"Well, the Wood Elves come close..." I said.
"But they are taller, and their blue eyes are bright, not dark." Gandalf put in for me, and I nodded.
"Exactly. So what's your point?" I asked.
"That perhaps your looks, as well as your ability to speak many languages, and the elves easy acceptance of you, was part of a gift given to you to help you settle into Middle-Earth. Perhaps you were brought here by Ilúvatar, and he, or some of the Valar, knowing the differences between your world and this, decided to help you and gave you these gifts to help you fit in." Gandalf said. I eyed him.
"Have you been talking to Glorfindel?" I asked.
"I haven't seen him recently, no." Gandalf said in amusement. "Why?"
"Because he said almost the same damn thing." I said.
"Perhaps because it is true." Gandalf said serenely.
"You sound like you know something." I said, stopping and turning to face Gandalf, my hands on my hips.
"I know many things." Gandalf said secretively.
"Oh, don't give me that old sage wizard crap. Do you know something about how Kari and I came to be in Middle-Earth or not?" I demanded. Gandalf watched me for several minutes from underneath his bushy eyebrows. Just as I began to tap my foot impatiently, he spoke.
"Over 3000 years have passed since I came from Aman, and in that time, only once have I spoken with the Valar that sent me here. Only once. Well I remember that night, for I had been told all details of what I was to do here in Middle-Earth before leaving Aman, and the Valar knew that I would not forget it. If they had not believed I would not, they would not have sent me. Yet that night, after I had been in Middle-Earth for close to 2000 years, they came to me in my dreams, and spoke to me.
"They spoke to me of a hidden theme in the Music of the Ainur, one started by Ilúvatar himself and carried quietly beneath all the others, unnoticed. It was quiet, and unimportant to the grand scheming that was being sung by most, and thus it was not noticed. Yet now that this theme has entered into Middle-Earth in the flesh, the Valar have discovered that it can not be ignored. This theme spoke of two children of another world, far away from this one, that would come here." Gandalf made as if to go on, but my snort stopped him.
"Oh please. This is just sounding more Mary-Sue by the moment. I should have known wandering near you was a bad idea. It just let the Mary-Sue Factor pull you and the Valar, not to mention Ilúvatar, into its web." I complained grumpily.
"This is not the product of some story!" Gandalf snapped. "Ilúvatar is the creator of the world, not some pawn that even the merest of your people can manipulate. He does what he wants to do, and no one can make him do what he does not want to."
"There are some people in my world that believe that authors are more than Gods, for they not only create worlds and universes, but they create the gods of those worlds and universe." I said blandly. Gandalf looked at me sharply.
"And who do you think guides them to create those worlds and universes and gods?" he asked.
"No one. They create them themselves." I replied. Gandalf looked at me for a moment, and then shook his head in what almost looked like amusement.
"I see." he said, and then turned to leave.
"You see WHAT?" I demanded. Gandalf paused, looked over his shoulder at me, smiled secretively, and then walked off down the path, leaving me to stare after him in confusion.
----To be continued...with swordfighting and Fred!----
(Not to mention Glorfindel's return...)
-Authors Note:-
I got bored, I watched some of the new videos on the Lord of the Rings website, and I'm about to go watch The Two Towers again - thus, you have a new chapter. Do enjoy! We'll see when I get my next one up...
In other news, does anyone know if this chapter's title is a real word? I could go look it up at refdesk.com, but I'm too lazy...
Finally, thank you to all my reviewers who are being so patient while I write furiously away on my novel for NaNoWriMo! You all get...hmm...lessee, what do I have to give away...? Ooh, right! Karl Urban clones! Or a random Ranger, if you prefer...I just felt like Karl Urban clones because I saw someone who looks like Karl Urban today...all he needed was longer hair, and I swear he could have been the man's twin. O.o
~Crimson Starlight
-Disclaimer:-
CS: I own nothing but the over 13,000 words I've pounded out in the past 6 days. *twitch*
Rachel: Out of curiosity, why are you doing this to yourself?
CS: I have no idea...I could be doing schoolwork, maybe finishing that overdue report, but noooo, I'm writing a 50,000 word novel in a month...
Glorfindel: I say you're masochistic.
CS: *whacks Glorfindel* Shut up, you, I am not.
Glorfindel: *wobbling around* Er, right, my mistake - sadistic.
CS: Don't make me borrow Morgoth's Balrogs.
Glorfindel: Meep! I take it back!
-24: Philophosizing-
That supper was not the end of Gandalf's questions, of course. Gandalf cornered me after lunch the next day and asked me to 'take a walk' with him. It was more of an order than a request, really, but I knew I was going to have to talk with him at some point, so I didn't really mind.
We walked in silence for some time, simply wandering through the gardens of Rivendell. Eventually, however, it became apparent that Gandalf was heading for the more secluded and quiet areas of Rivendell, where there would be no one to overhear.
"Elrond has told me of where you come from." Gandalf said finally.
"Good for him. Though, once again, I don't recall ever telling him." I said.
"He said he had Glorfindel tell him the day after your return." Gandalf said.
"Ah." I said. "Figures."
"I have talked with Elladan and Elrohir about where you come from, as well." Gandalf said.
"Er, good for you." I said, wondering where this was going.
"And Boromir." Gandalf added. I eyed him.
"So a lot of people know where I come from. What of it?" I asked.
"I have gotten three different stories from those four people." Gandalf replied, looking at me out of the corner of his eye. "Which one is true?"
"Glorfindel's." I replied promptly. No use lying to the wizard. "Elladan and Elrohir just got a simplified version for the sake of them needing an explanation, and Boromir got a severely edited one so that his brain wouldn't break." Gandalf nodded knowingly, though he seemed amused at my reason for why I told Boromir the version I did.
A short silence followed, and then I spoke up again. "So, did you just want to go for a walk with me to ask me questions you already know the answers to, or was there something else?"
"I wanted some more clarification about this...'Mary-Sue' that I keep hearing about in relation to you. All your stories mention it, in some form or another, yet no one seems to explain to me exactly what it is." Gandalf said with a light frown. I sighed.
"Ok, you know that the history of the Third Age is written up in books in my world?" I asked, and Gandalf nodded. "Well, people in my world like the story of the Third Age a whole lot. They like it even more because it has so many main male 'characters' in it.
"But I'm not really starting where I should. Before I even explain to you about my world's strange obsession with Middle-Earth, I need to tell you a bit about it. Foremost, you have to understand that beauty is highly prized in my world. Just about everything relies on it. There's a saying at home that goes 'talent can only take you so far', and, unfortunately, its true there. Less talented people get given jobs or promoted above more talented people simply because they look better. So with that sort of an attitude, you can imagine what sort of a stir even the concept of Elves - perfect, immortal beings - would cause.
"And then there's the appeal of the heroism, adventure and power that will become closely tied with the main players in the end of the Age. Heroism and adventure are very rare commodities in my world, a world where most dangers are ruthlessly struck down with words and papers and treaties. Some people have taken to doing stunts so dangerous that a simple mistake could mean death just to get some adventure. And heroism? It's still there, I suppose, but not on such a grandiose scale as here. Hero's in my day and age are those who showed 'exceptional courage' by saving their bother or sister from certain death in some way or another. Admirable, to be sure, but not much compared to saving the entire known world. That sort of heroism draws even more people into the story.
"Of course, there are always the morbid and criminally insane people who are just attracted to Middle-Earth because, hey, you don't get stuck in jail for life if you kill someone here! Well, if you get caught, and it was for no reason, you do. For the most part, though, you can get away with killing as revenge, or mercy killing someone who doesn't want to live, and all that. You become the newest incarnation of the devil himself if you do anything like that at home."
"Devil?" Gandalf asked in curiosity.
"Oh, hm, sorry, ultimate evil. Think Morgoth at the height of his evilness. Supposedly keeper of all the wicked souls of the world, too." Gandalf nodded in understanding, and I continued. "So the tale of the Third Age of Middle-Earth is extremely attractive to most of the people on my world, for many different reasons. Most of the people attracted to Middle-Earth however, are, sadly enough, teenage girls. Why? Because they like all the 'hot guys' that they imagine nancing around. Which, to be fair, is true. Still, it's sad.
"Of course, everyone on my world believes that Middle-Earth is naught but a tale. However, they want this world, this time, to be real so badly, for all their various different reasons, that they start writing stories about it. About what would happen if this character did that, or if someone showed up and changed this, or even just using the setting of Middle-Earth to tell a tale with no relation to the end of the Third Age at all. Sometimes they write different versions of the end of the Third Age. Sometimes they take the characters from the end of the Third Age and put them in an entirely new setting, just to explore what can be done. Most commonly, they will write about some main character from the end of the Third Age meeting a character of their making and falling in love, no matter how unlikely the pairing. Just about any way they can write about Middle-Earth, they have done so.
"Of course, not everyone in my world is a good writer. Heck, most of them are horrible. Added to that is the fact that these stories of Middle-Earth aren't considered 'real writing' by the general populace - of which I am part of - and often scorned. So most of the authors of these stories don't even try to polish their stories to something acceptable. They use abbreviations, shortcuts, miss-spell words, don't use proper grammar - in any language. And that's not even TOUCHING on their plots. Some of those plots are so inane you have to just stop and think if there even WAS a plot, or if it was just mindless drivel.
"The worst of these stories discerning readers call 'Mary-Sue's. They are generally of the variety of a character of the writers making meeting up with one of the main characters and falling in love, usually before you can say 'Bob's my uncle'. They are also, generally, horribly written, though some authors do write them fairly well. The most defining mark of these 'Mary-Sue's, though, is that the character that the author has brought in is creepily perfect. We're not talking about Elvish perfect. We're talking, they can do anything, anywhere, anytime, never having done it before, and do it perfectly, not to mention remain stunningly beautiful the entire time. The exception to this rule, of course, is in fighting off Orcs. They can never do that, because their Hero always has to save them from the Nasty Orcses." I stopped and glanced at Gandalf. "Am I still making sense?"
"Yes." Gandalf said with a small smile.
"Good. Anyways. The most common plot for these 'Mary-Sue's is usually some girl - modeled after the author, of course - transporting, by some means, from my world to Middle-Earth. In fact, some people label any story that revolves around a girl from my world 'falling' into Middle-Earth, as we call it, as a Mary-Sue." I said.
"Which is why you were so certain you were becoming one of these 'Mary-Sue's?" Gandalf asked, and I nodded.
"Exactly. Which, for me, is a horrible thing, since I've always viewed these stories written about Middle-Earth as an abomination that need to be destroyed. The only few I've ever read were due to Kari cajoling and begging until I gave in. Also, I like to be accepted for who I am. I don't put on airs for people to make them like me, and having those airs thrust on me was just about the deepest insult I can think of." I replied.
"Fascinating." Gandalf murmured.
"I'm sure." I said dryly. There was silence as we walked.
"So what made you fear so surely that you were becoming a Mary-Sue, besides your 'falling' into Middle-Earth? You sounded as if you did not believe that all of these stories your worlds people write that involve one of them transporting to Middle-Earth are Mary-Sues." Gandalf said after awhile.
"Oh, little things here and there. Most primarily, I'd suddenly become scarily beautiful, had blonde hair, and got those few extra inches I always wanted. There was also the fact that all the Elves accepted us so readily, and they didn't even care that Kari called Eregion 'Hollin', which no Elf that lived there should have done." I said. "Oh, and of course, there's the little fact that -" I paused and concentrated, mentally switching from Common to Elvish, something I'd practiced over the years whenever I got bored. "- I can now speak three languages, when I had trouble learning ANY at home." I finished in Elvish. Gandalf blinked at me in surprise for the last part.
"You speak Quenya?" he asked incredulously. I groaned.
"Make that four languages." I said, speaking in Common once again. "Gah, I bet if a Dwarf popped up right now, I could speak Dwarvish to it. Hell, I'd probably understand Black Speech." Gandalf looked at me, amused.
"Was there anything else?" he asked.
"No, that was about it." I replied, then frowned slightly, "Well, there was Kari and her practically instantaneous falling in love with Elrohir. But I'm somewhat of a romantic, and believe in love at first sight, so that doesn't bother me all that much. Anymore."
"And so you manage to explain away the only truly obvious indication that you might have been becoming a Mary-Sue." Gandalf said in amusement. I glanced at him.
"You need to stop smoking pipe weed. My change in looks was by far the most obvious indication." I said.
"Ah yes, but tell me. In all your travellings around Middle-Earth, and in the tales you read of Middle-Earth before coming here, did you ever hear of an Elf that looked anything like you?" Gandalf asked. I frowned.
"Well, the Wood Elves come close..." I said.
"But they are taller, and their blue eyes are bright, not dark." Gandalf put in for me, and I nodded.
"Exactly. So what's your point?" I asked.
"That perhaps your looks, as well as your ability to speak many languages, and the elves easy acceptance of you, was part of a gift given to you to help you settle into Middle-Earth. Perhaps you were brought here by Ilúvatar, and he, or some of the Valar, knowing the differences between your world and this, decided to help you and gave you these gifts to help you fit in." Gandalf said. I eyed him.
"Have you been talking to Glorfindel?" I asked.
"I haven't seen him recently, no." Gandalf said in amusement. "Why?"
"Because he said almost the same damn thing." I said.
"Perhaps because it is true." Gandalf said serenely.
"You sound like you know something." I said, stopping and turning to face Gandalf, my hands on my hips.
"I know many things." Gandalf said secretively.
"Oh, don't give me that old sage wizard crap. Do you know something about how Kari and I came to be in Middle-Earth or not?" I demanded. Gandalf watched me for several minutes from underneath his bushy eyebrows. Just as I began to tap my foot impatiently, he spoke.
"Over 3000 years have passed since I came from Aman, and in that time, only once have I spoken with the Valar that sent me here. Only once. Well I remember that night, for I had been told all details of what I was to do here in Middle-Earth before leaving Aman, and the Valar knew that I would not forget it. If they had not believed I would not, they would not have sent me. Yet that night, after I had been in Middle-Earth for close to 2000 years, they came to me in my dreams, and spoke to me.
"They spoke to me of a hidden theme in the Music of the Ainur, one started by Ilúvatar himself and carried quietly beneath all the others, unnoticed. It was quiet, and unimportant to the grand scheming that was being sung by most, and thus it was not noticed. Yet now that this theme has entered into Middle-Earth in the flesh, the Valar have discovered that it can not be ignored. This theme spoke of two children of another world, far away from this one, that would come here." Gandalf made as if to go on, but my snort stopped him.
"Oh please. This is just sounding more Mary-Sue by the moment. I should have known wandering near you was a bad idea. It just let the Mary-Sue Factor pull you and the Valar, not to mention Ilúvatar, into its web." I complained grumpily.
"This is not the product of some story!" Gandalf snapped. "Ilúvatar is the creator of the world, not some pawn that even the merest of your people can manipulate. He does what he wants to do, and no one can make him do what he does not want to."
"There are some people in my world that believe that authors are more than Gods, for they not only create worlds and universes, but they create the gods of those worlds and universe." I said blandly. Gandalf looked at me sharply.
"And who do you think guides them to create those worlds and universes and gods?" he asked.
"No one. They create them themselves." I replied. Gandalf looked at me for a moment, and then shook his head in what almost looked like amusement.
"I see." he said, and then turned to leave.
"You see WHAT?" I demanded. Gandalf paused, looked over his shoulder at me, smiled secretively, and then walked off down the path, leaving me to stare after him in confusion.
----To be continued...with swordfighting and Fred!----
(Not to mention Glorfindel's return...)
-Authors Note:-
I got bored, I watched some of the new videos on the Lord of the Rings website, and I'm about to go watch The Two Towers again - thus, you have a new chapter. Do enjoy! We'll see when I get my next one up...
In other news, does anyone know if this chapter's title is a real word? I could go look it up at refdesk.com, but I'm too lazy...
Finally, thank you to all my reviewers who are being so patient while I write furiously away on my novel for NaNoWriMo! You all get...hmm...lessee, what do I have to give away...? Ooh, right! Karl Urban clones! Or a random Ranger, if you prefer...I just felt like Karl Urban clones because I saw someone who looks like Karl Urban today...all he needed was longer hair, and I swear he could have been the man's twin. O.o
~Crimson Starlight