A:N: Alright, I lied. I can't do replies because my computer decided to go stupid on me and erase all of my Offline Internet files, which is where my reviews were saved. So I will do them… just not right now. Gomen nasai, minna. I have a recommendation to all those who read this, because if you're interested in this fic, you'll love this book: Eats, Shoots, and Leaves by Lynne Truss. My grandmother in Wisconsin bought it for me and I adore it. I have a new Bible. It is a book all about punctuation. Isn't that awesome? I can proudly say that I am a stickler, as defined by Ms. Truss. I wield her book all over my school (now as an upperclassman! Damn yeah!) and have thusly been dubbed the Syntax Nazi in my Creative Writing class. So life is the same. Well, on with the story, right? Oh, Elladan and Elrohir were requested first, so Elladan and Elrohir ye shall receive. I have way too much fun in my Author's Notes… should I just abolish them altogether? It's up to you guys. Ciao!
Disclaimer by Elladan and Elrohir:
Elladan: …You should know why we are here.
Elrohir: Yes, we are here to proclaim that… .:turns to Elladan:. What was it again?
Akai-Sakura's voice: .:exasperated:. You guys! First Radagast forgets, now you two. Don't make me come out there!
Elrohir: .:looks panicky:. Well, in that case…. We are here to tell you all that the Akai-Sakura does not own us.
Elladan: Or any of Arda, for that matter. That belongs to Eru and the Valar.
Akai-Sakura's voice: .:coughtolkiencough:.
Elladan: Sorry?
Akai-Sakura's voice: Eheheh… oh nothing! Go back to disclaiming!
Elrohir: Well… we already finished.
.:awkward silence:.
Elladan: .:turns to Elrohir:. Now what?
Elrohir: I don't—
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Chapter 8
That Time Of Month Part I
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Leo wrung his hands. "We called the PPC—" he winced "—Boss. They sent two agents after the girl. She should be dead within a sennight."
"How long?" The voice coming from behind the swivel chair sounded deadly.
"Er, not a sennight!" Leo improvised. "In fact, sooner. Very soon."
"Good." The voice seemed to relax. "So this little catastrophe will be taken care of, correct, Leo?" She paused. "Because I will not settle for failure. She will be removed from Middle-earth, if not alive then dead." A brittle grin cemented on her face. "The PPC are good at what they do."
"Um, yes, Boss." An awkward pause ensued. "I-I'm sorry about that."
A sigh escaped the Boss. "It matters not, my Leo." Her voice suddenly sounded wistful and nostalgic. Leo's heart warmed towards her. "Many of my fellows have been killed at the hands of the cold, heartless PPC. I have seen my sisters fall, my comrades scream in pain. So many… so many have died that I cannot count them all." Her voice seemed so sad… so mournful for the fate of all Mary-Sues worldwide… Leo couldn't help but feel her pain. He understood that these perfect women all fell to this deadly virus called the Protectors of the Plot Continuum. Why? he thought. Why kill them, when all they wanted to do was fix Middle-earth? They brought respite to the suffering, they healed the sick. They were wonderful. Why kill them?
"Why, my lady?" he said aloud, not even realizing he was falling under her spell. "Why must they all die for such a goodly cause?"
Unbeknownst to Leo, the Boss smiled, satisfied. She knew she still had it in her, no matter how old she might be. A regular Helen of Troy, they had called her in her day. She was beautiful, she was smart. And she was cunning, even if she did hide it well at times. Just for moments like these….
"I do not know, my Leo," she said sadly. "Perhaps they envy us, for never have I seen a lovely agent. But perhaps it does not matter, because that is our lot in life. A noble calling it is indeed, to be a Mary-Sue. But yet it is our destiny to never be truly happy, to never see Middle-earth peaceful, to never see our lovers truly happy." When in reality she knew that they were here to cause panic, to ruin all that was good. The brainchild of Morgoth, they had also called her in her day.
But she wouldn't let this entranced male know that just yet.
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Lee shot up. "I'm awake!" She winced. "My head aches. Why does my head ache?" She sniffed the air. "And why does my room stink? Did Greg plant another stink bomb in here?" she moaned, clutching her head.
That's when she realized that this was not her room. In fact, this could not be farther from her room. This was the woods. And that wretched stink was….
"Oh, grody!" she screeched. "Who the hell threw up? And why am I lying by it? And where the hell am I?" She got up, wide-eyed. A man yawned and rose.
"Lee, calm down, please. Some of us were up later than expected the night before." He rubbed his eyes sleepily.
"Oh, gods!" Lee covered her mouth. "Do… do I know you? Wh-why are you with me?" She paused. "Did you rape me?!" she shrieked.
His mouth dropped. "What?" He strode over to her and grabbed her by the shoulders. "Lee, Lee, it is I, Boromir. Do you not remember?"
A very, very short and heavily bearded man rose slowly, groaning. "Ah, Lee, I see you are up," he remarked sourly. "Now please be kind and let the rest of us sleep."
And suddenly everything came back to Lee… the crazy people in lab coats… "King" Elrond and Liv/Arwen… prattling off information like a loon on loon tablets… and the night before, drinking and drinking…. "Oh gods," she moaned. "Did I get drunk last night?" Everything she said this morning registered and she turned a brilliant shade of crimson. I can't believe I accused Boromir of raping me! she thought, aghast. Boromir wouldn't rape a fly! Well, he shouldn't be raping flies, because not only is that uber-grody, it's slightly impossible. Ugh… how about let's not think about Boromir or anyone else raping flies?
Obviously recognizing the inner diesel that was Lee's train of thought, Boromir quickly interjected, "Yes—in truth, Lee, you were so drunk that you sang for us."
"Aw damn," she grumbled, quickly snapping out of it. "Which one?"
The question caught the Prince of Minas Tirith off-guard. "What?"
"Which song was it?" She sighed groggily. "I mean, I figure it was a drinking song, and since I'm here, it'd be a drinking song about Middle-earth and/or its inhabitants. Quite possibly it could have been Irish, which I might have picked up from Evan, but I highly doubt that. So which was it?"
A pause, then… "It was about Legolas, if that aids you," Boromir said, taken aback by the fact that a young woman would know any drinking songs.
Lee nodded sagely. "Then it was the Megolas song, huh?" she asked rhetorically. He nodded, speechless and obviously incapable of recognizing a rhetorical question. "Okay. That one wasn't so bad, so we're fine." She paused. "It definitely could have been worse."
Boromir decided not to ask and changed the subject. Or at least had opened his mouth to before a very groggy, very crass Aragorn rose. "Can we move along?" he demanded. "I would like to reach Hollin sometime within the Third Age."
The teenager glared at him. "Some of us are recuperating from last night, if you must know," she snapped quietly.
"Is that my fault?" demanded Aragorn. "I did not pour the ale down your throat. Nor did I vomit all over Gimli's boots."
"Yeah, well—"Suddenly she clutched her stomach. "Oh god… ohgodohgodohgod… my abs feel like someone's beating them with a blunt sledgehammer." She collapsed, much to the shock of the nine males around her, who were (for the most part) awake. Curled in the fetal position, Lee thought angrily, Damn abdominal cramps. I would gladly give up my right to have children to be spared this.
And then it dawned on her, just as Sam's eyes widened and he said timidly:
"Ah… Lee? You are bleeding… a lot… over your white dress."