Disclaimer: Nothing herein is mine except for the plot and the way I use things that are not mine. *laughs*
A/N: I would not suggest that people who like Mary Sues read this fic. Of course, if you flame me it is your prerogative, but you would be better off leaving me alone, yeah? Anyhow, thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far and liked it!
*
Glorfindel was in some sort of shock induced trauma. He now twitched violently whenever anyone, whether it be Elrond or one of the servants, mentioned anything to do with the words "child", "Ulmo", "Nienna", "vala", "valie" or "twiced-removed" and had very near resorted to Channelling and using a serving spoon as a weapon. The armoury, Glorfindel's own blade and bow, even marginally sharp eating utensils and other randomly dangerous objects were kept under close watch whenever he appeared. The eldar seemed to refuse to even acknowledge anything about the workings of the ainur, and insisted whenever anyone asked that "ignorance was bliss" and that they both were "better off not knowing". Thus, the elf went around attempting to ignore every form of higher power; and woe to anyone who spoke of such things near him.
Elrond said that it was an expected side-effect of one falling head first onto hard flooring, but personally Erestor felt that his friend had just finally cracked under the stress.
Neither of them mentioned it to him, of course.
And so life went on, a vicious cycle of doing nothing and waiting for the world to explode.
*
Glorfindel drummed his fingers on the table expectantly, looking from Erestor to Elrond. It seemed that the Author had more or less abandoned them into a interminable period of limbo, and nothing further seemed to have spawned to aid the Plot (or mayhap the lack thereof of one) along its way. The three most highly respected elves in Rivendell were thus sitting, dressed in casual tunics and breeches, in Elrond's study, which had a rather panoramic view of Imladris. The eldest of them, however, was nowhere near interested in the scenery.
'Well,' he said, 'What are we going to do about her?'
Erestor looked almost flippant as he aimlessly lazed in his chair, too lethargic to even pretend to read the Tengwar that was imprinted before him. The leather of the book just felt good to hold; a reality in the madness of the world around him. 'The same thing we always do with them,' the adviser replied off-handedly, waving the bound book about carelessly. 'Give her a horse, one of our old rusty swords and shove you and the rest of the... fellowship off to save the world.'
Elrond did not even deign to answer, grousing a bit while staring fixedly out of one of his many windows. Glorfindel glared at his friend; the kind of jaundiced glare that only the very experienced have the benefit of executing well.
'She is clearly not ready to be tramping off in the wild. She falls into rose bushes, for Eru's sake!'
Erestor rolled his eyes, clearly unconvinced by Glorfindel's argument.
'She has many assets of her own.'
'What is that supposed to mean?'
Elrond merely pointed out of the window.
*
Outer Courtyard, downstairs
*
'Master Lindir!'
There was a brief flash of white as Lindir streaked across the courtyard, running for what remained of his life and clutching his precious harp to his chest. This was followed by an equally quick blur of gold, which of course denoted Allesa's fast approaching countenance. Lindir chanced a look back before running as only an elf could - really fast. Allesa, however, was of the Mary Sue, and so she jumped and somehow managed to pin the distraught minstrel to a generic, convenient wall while still maintaining a brilliant smile on her brilliant face.
'Master Lindir! Why ever were you running?'
Lindir, usually the epitome of eloquent grace, stammered slightly as he scrabbled for a reason, any reason.
'I was not running, so to speak, er, Lady Allesa, merely...' the minstrel floundered desperately for a word, 'Walking briskly.'
High above them, in Elrond's study, three elves snorted.
Allesa looked unconvinced, but she let the matter pass.
'Master Lindir, I must ask a favour from thee!'
Up in the study, Glorfindel turned his head and mouthed the word "thee" to Erestor in disbelief. The advisor merely sniggered from his position on the windowsill and motioned from him to keep watching. Allesa and Lindir, still completely unaware that they were prey to a number of eavesdroppers, went on. Lindir, trying valiantly to keep his terrified expression under control, swallowed and sagged against the wall in order to maintain as much distance from Allesa as possible.
'Of course, Lady Allesa... What is that you, I mean, thy, wish of me?'
Elrond snickered uncontrollably and made note to compile a dictionary on the uses of Sue Language. Allesa, on the other hand, seemed not to notice her dismemberment of the English Language and forged forth, I mean, forward.
'Master Lindir,' she repeated for the third time, 'I wish to borrow thy harp.'
Glorfindel looked unimpressed. It would take more than a Balrog to separate Lindir, Minstrel of Imladris, from his harp. More than one bard from distant lands (courtesy of the Author) had tried, failed, and been sent to the healers with a harp shaped bruise the next day. Allesa, however, did not seem to fall prey to that aspect of Lindir's attitude as she leered threateningly over him. The white haired elf looked for any opportunity to bolt.
Suddenly, Sam burst into the corridor, holding a basket of mushrooms. Allesa swerved around without releasing her hold on the captive elf and called out:
'Sam! Have you been eavesdropping?!'
Elrond inched backwards from the window guilty. Sam, who had been eavesdropping and had decided to provide a diversion for Lindir, spun around and stuttered in his best "Innocent Hobbit Gardener" voice.
'Me? No, no, miss Allesa, not me!'
Lindir shook his head madly, motioning for Sam to think up something. Sam, now also caught in the snake's gaze, stalled. Allesa lurched forward.
'Then why are you here with your... mushrooms?'
She somehow managed to make the word "mushrooms" sound like a penalty from hell. Sam cringed.
'No, no, Miss Allesa, I ain't been dropping no eaves!'
Allesa looked at the mushrooms, then up at Sam. The poor hobbit looked transfixed, like a proverbial deer in headlights. Just that headlights did not exist then, but shh, no one need know. Least of all Sam.
'You will give me the mushrooms,' Allesa said.
'I will give you the mushrooms,' Sam replied.
'You will not attempt to lure away my prey.'
'I will not attempt to lure away your prey.'
'You will forget this ever happened.'
'I will forget this ever happened.'
'You will go away now.'
'I will go away now.'
Glorfindel watched in a state of shocked amazement as Sam, gardener, protector of Frodo Baggins and hobbit, handed over a basketful of mushrooms to Allesa, bowed deeply and walked away, looking as if he had just been hit on the head with a heavy object. A really heavy object.
Lindir took the opportunity to bolt, running for his life and this close to sobbing into his harp.
Allesa looked torn between triumph and defeat, but after a moment of silence let out what could be counted as a really !Good evil laugh that went along the lines of "mwaha. Mwahaha. MWAHAHAHA.".
Elrond looked vaguely impressed as he finally turned from the window and the three of them settled down once more.
'Was that...?' Erestor finally dared to ask after the tension born in a long moment faded.
'I do not really know, honestly,' Elrond said with a faint note of amused curiosity. As the evil!father of Arwen, he never got really all that bothered by Sues, and housing them had become some sort of habitual exercise for him. 'Either Allesa is truly a grade of Sue we have never yet encountered or Lindir has a really good friend in Samwise.'
All three stared at the mushrooms.
'We're doomed, aren't we?' Glorfindel offered gloomily.
'Yes,' Erestor nodded, watching as
Allesa carelessly threw the basket into the bushes. 'We are.'