Disclaimer: I own nothing. Once again, apologies to artists like Christina A. (Reflection) and Britney S. (Born to Make You Happy), even though I am not-so-sorry to say that I greatly dislike both of them. (*pukes* I still can't believe I used these songs, but I wanted to go for all out teenybopper, so... Takes pain to have gain.) Apologies to tainting the song "Black Black Heart" (can you tell that this is going to be a nightmare chapter for poor Glor?) by David Usher.
A/N: Time for confession. This fic as you see it now is the second generation of an old, nineteen chapter fic. A nineteen chapter MARY SUE fic. Yes, I was once an ignorant read-the-books-a-long-time-ago movie-Sue-writer. This Sue was, shock horror, based on this very fic that was some years ago, before I repented, and, like Maglor, went into self-exile to refresh my memory. But now, like Glorfindel, I hath returned from the Halls of Mandos (for I was rightfully killed by the history and family lines of Elrond), reborn and armed with my now extensive knowledge of my 11 HoMEs, Silmarillion, Unfinished Tales and my refreshed knowledge of the Hobbit and, of course, four to five years of slavery under Lord of the Rings itself. Studying Quenya more than I rightfully should, I also have embarked upon the linguistics path, and have returned, writing AU but roughly canonical fics. I have been reborn from the Unforgivable Sin (as can be seen from the terrifying old fic that this was: I wince every time I recall it), and have come to make peace and redeem myself of it by writing this mock parody of the Mary Sue that Allesa (wince) rightfully is.
Also made a correction in chapter two: I said as Glorfindel did in the Forge instead of Ford as I intended. *grimaces* Silly me.
On better news, my birthday is tomorrow, so do drop me a review and make me a happy author!
*
Glorfindel was lying on one of the divans along the walls and windows of the Healing House, a cup of mild herbal tea in his left hand. His right arm was draped out the window, and the elf lord threw his head back, closed his eyes and enjoyed the sounds and smells of a fresh spring morning. The Author had magically changed the season again, but that was of no consequence.
The ex-Gondolin warrior was just taking another sip when a commotion from below caused him to spit it all out, causing Elrond, who was tending to one of the kitchen staff that had unfortunately missed ducking when Allesa threw a plate at Frodo by "accident", to look up inquiringly.
'Does the mix taste that bad? Do you want some honey with it?'
Glorfindel was looking too green to reply, so Elrond got up to look out of the window to see what was making his friend blanch so.
From below:
One very rumpled looking Allesa was holding what looked like a shining piece of glowing metal foil attached to a bit of wood. She called it Angëlauchémirö, whatever on Earth, Middle Earth, Aman, the Universe and the general black hole of existence that meant. It looked like one of those Chinese opera props, which were made out of flimsy cardboard wrapped in cooking foil. The sword, or stick, or whatever, wobbled as the Sue waved it about. A forlorn look was on her face as she commanded Elladan and Elrohir to teach her how to fight with it.
Elladan was howling with laughter, rolling on the grass and too weakened by his outburst to even pick up his sword, which, unlike the Sues, was made up of normal metal attached to a normal hilt in a normal colour that did not glow. Elrohir was stoically trying to keep a straight face, but was failing miserably.
The stick seemed to glow brighter.
Glorfindel gripped his tea in his hand, looked down at it, then up at Elrond again. The elf drowned the entire cup (sedatives and all) in one gulp then stood up, snatching up his dagger (which he now took around the House at all times for safety precautions - one never knew when the Author would conjure up a orc party for the Sue to slay with her pink nail polish, I mean, heroically eradicate.) and stomped, or at least walked as heavily as an elf could, out of the House and down into the gardens. Erestor, who had appointed himself in charge of the general well being (both physical and mental) of his best friend, trailed at a safe distance, throwing Elrond a troubled look.
Glorfindel stomped into the garden, a savage look imprinted on his otherwise hardened features. Elladan stopped laughing, and Elrohir's mock serious face settled into a genuine look of fear. Glorfindel wore that look on three occasions: Firstly, when he left Imladris to go do a mop up of the borders, which happened only very rarely, because even though he was Captain of the Guard, Glorfindel was forced to stay within the nearer borders due to the implications of his duty and loyalty to Elrond's house (and, being one of the oldest elves in Imladris, to keep everyone sane during Sue attacks, something that had changed drastically). That usually involved a serious case of at least two score of orcs charging into Imladris, and a week or so later, about two single orcs fleeing the valley with a bright, glowing elf chasing after them and yelling obscenities. Glorfindel called it stress relief. The Twins, experienced fighters and bloodthirsty killers of orc colonies themselves, called it Bloody Frightening.
Secondly, Glorfindel wore that look when Someone Is About To Die, usually one of the Twins or Erestor. This, in their younger years, involved painful procedures whereby two young elflings would be stuck clearing muck and other things out of the stables for weeks on end. In Erestor's case, it involved the chief advisor of Imladris running out of the room whenever Glorfindel walked in. This only happened once or twice every five centuries, the last was when Elladan and Elrohir had sheared half of Glorfindel's hair off. The result was not pretty.
Third, and most frightening of all, was when Glorfindel was Angry. This is not the usual type of Angry, but rather the Scare-You-Beyond-The-Circles-Of-The-World kind of Angry. This was usually classified and reserved for when Glorfindel went to war. He would do the full package: Start glowing, grab his extremely dangerous (and sharp) sword, start killing everything in sight and never speaking until his object of intent was either dead or beyond recognition. The Witch-King of Angmar had fled from Glorfindel when he had last been in that state, so one could easily understand how two 2800 year old Twins felt about their old tutor walking almost sedately towards them, holding a dagger that was probably older than they were and wearing a singularly homicidal look on his face.
To Allesa, he looked like a simpering blond hottie who was about to walk up and kiss her. Fluttering her eyelashes in a way that made Erestor feel like spilling the contents of his stomach, the Sue walked up to Glorfindel.
'Legolas? Are you feeling all right?'
Teeth ground together, Glorfindel snatched Ang-, Angëla-, I mean, argh, Angëlauchémirö out of the Sue's grasp and snarled.
'I. am. not. Legolas.'
Glorfindel, now properly Light-Bulbing, took a look at the sword, which, to him, struck a rather painfully deep chord.
Few swords, elven or no, glowed. Only one he knew was still in good enough condition to emit enough light to serve its former purpose: Sting. Its true name, which Glorfindel recalled, had been lost long ago.
All these swords, either lost, beyond repair or stolen, were forged in Gondolin.
And it made Glorfindel was to kill the next Sue who walked into Imladris holding a sword with a ridiculous name that did. The sword, not a Mary-Sue and certainly not invincible, quivered in his grasp and dimmed. If it were human, the sword would probably have fainted by then. Glorfindel sneered, brought it down over his knee and left the snapped bits of very thin metal on the ground before striding off with a self satisfied smirk on his face.
Erestor ticked off something on his list:
Glorfindel: ||
Sue: |
*
Aragorn was sitting in his old room, playing a game of chess with his foster father. The two of them were merrily discussing the events that were likely to take place, now that the Sue and Glorfindel were at it neck and neck. Elrond was wagering on how long the two would last against each other while Aragorn was busy wondering when the Sue would realize that Glorfindel was not Legolas Greenleaf in disguise.
'Did you see the look on Legolas' face when he realized that the Sue had mistaken him for Glorfindel?'
There was an oddly frightening overtone of glee in the human's voice. Elrond's low tones were laced with amusement.
'It was almost as priceless as the look on Glorfindel's face.'
'And when she starting reciting poetry...'
They both chuckled. Elrond had just executed a good gambit when Glorfindel charged in, trembling slightly. The elf seated himself on the bed and placed the pillow over his head. Aragorn blinked.
'Glofee?'
'Don't call me that. You're over eighty years old now, Estel.'
'Glofee?'
Silence.
'Listen.'
In the distance:
'Maybe Legolas doesn't like the classics. There must be something wrong with me. *sniffle* He hates me! But there is an odd look in his eyes whenever he sees me. Could there be something behind the wall of his heart... for me?'
Aragorn almost had to stuff his king down his throat to stop himself from laughing. Glorfindel was busy trying to asphyxiate himself with the pillow.
More singing came:
'Look at me
You may think you see
Who I really am
But you'll never know me
Every day
It's as if I play a part
Now I see
If I wear a mask
I can fool the world
But I cannot fool my heart
Who is that girl I see
Staring straight back at me?
When will my reflection show
Who I am inside?'
Elrond used all his strength, for Glorfindel's sake, to stop himself from laughing.
'I don't know how to live without
your love
I was born to make you happy
'Cause you're the only one within
my heart
I was born to make you happy
Always and forever you and me
That's the way our life should
be
I don't know how to live without
your love
I was born to make you happy.'
Glorfindel now distinctly felt like tearing his braids out. The worse was yet to come, though, when Allesa's CD-player (which had mysteriously popped up via inter dimensional portal), starting blasting this song:
'Black black heart why would you
offer more
Why would you make it easier
on me to satisfy
I'm on fire I'm rotting to the
core
I'm eating all your kings and
queens
All your sex and your diamonds.'
Needless to say, Glorfindel was most... disturbed. He spent the better part of the day back in the Healing House, trying to tear his ears out.
Elrond was more than just amused.