Okay, school's starting tomorrow, so I thought I'd get one chapter up beforehand. Sorry if updates slow, but my sched has gotten considerably busier.

Chapter Eight: Her One Weakness

By the time we get to the banquet hall, I'm grinning like nobody's business. Our young Hobbity friend and I have made up and she informed us of the plan. Oh ho, it is GOOD. Starr's one weakness. This is going to be the best day of my life. (Please ignore my previous ranting about this day being terrible. I had been lacking the privilege of the knowledge of this devious plan).

We commence the feasting and general gorging of ourselves. It IS nice to be able to eat as much as I'd like. Usually Starr would limit us to just what was necessary to survive. Not that we were poor, no! We were a royal family! She was just afraid of calories. Whatever they are. She was never really clear on that…

I stood up at a podium in front of the crowd. Arwen got their attention by introducing me as 'Starr's daughter', with a great emphasis on 'Starr.' It was like the only way to get their attention was shiny objects, food, or a certain name that doesn't bear repeating.

I cleared my throat as if I was about to speak. That was the signal. Behind me, Eowyn discreetly cut a cord, and that caused a large scroll to unveil on the wall behind the podium.

There was a great simultaneous gasp.

My mother's one weakness—when she gets out of the bath. In the picture on the scroll, there was Starr (fully dressed, mind you, gutter-heads), five minutes after bathing. It was the strangest thing. For a good ten minutes after getting out of the bath, she is horribly ugly. It's like the Sue is washed away and takes a bit to get back. I knew it wasn't possible for someone to be so perfect ALL the time.

Everyone is staring in horrified curiosity at the giant picture, an Eowyn original. Who knew she could paint so well.

For all they knew, we could have just completely made that up. But, strangely enough, it was working. There was the general moan of hundreds of Elves coming out of trances with the symptoms of someone waking up after having too much to drink the night before.

Thranduil must have had a particularly menacing head ache, for he nearly fell off his throne, clutching his head. I felt kind of bad for him, yet I was still smarting slightly from the fact that he probably still doesn't know who I am, so I will admit that it was pretty funny.

"What…is…the meaning…of this?" he moaned.

I smiled, suddenly confident, seeing what I had to do. "My Lord, I am your granddaughter Seiryu. Your son, Legolas, has been put under the bewitchment of an evil, evil witch, along with most of Arda. We have already cured the Shire, and are traveling around to free everyone of this spell." Go us.

For someone who just found out his son is hexed and he has an adolescent granddaughter, he was relatively calm.

Of course, once I told him he had eleven—soon to be twelve—other grandchildren, he was ready to storm Minas Tirith and "bring the seductive wench down."

He said it, not me.

I swear, it was most interesting to watch such a dignified Elf lord stomp around his halls, muttering about 'limitless-fertility' and swearing in Elvish. And Dwarfish, I might add. Starr's ears would bleed if she heard this kind of language. I have a sneaking suspicion that there was also some Black Speech mixed in there. Or maybe the head ache was just from the sheer volume of the enraged Thranduil. That banquet cleared out pretty fast.

"My Lord, please calm down…" Arwen soothed.

He turned to her, as if noticing her for the first time. "No, Lady Arwen, it is you who must get angry! Daughter of Elrond, Lord of Rivendell, and they LOCKED YOU UP? And Eowyn, you are sister to the king of Rohan!"

Both of them looked very strained, since they realized this and were trying very hard not to lose their tempers.

"Do you require aid from Mirkwood?" he asked suddenly and quite randomly.

We all glance up at him. "Pardon?" I blink.

"I want my son back." He said, by means of explanation. Perfectly understandable. I want my sanity back, but that's seriously looking to be not an option.

"Well, I think we're okay. It doesn't take much, though we could use some supplies." Eowyn said. In other words, we don't need fifty Elven troops marching after us. That wouldn't exactly be low key. At all.

"I just hired a new servant. I'll have her pack you up some. As a matter of fact, I'll send her along with you. Although, she can be a little…strange…"

We really didn't know what to say to that. She must be pretty bad if he's forcing her onto the first people who come to visit.

"Oh, Browne!"

An elleth with dirty blonde hair entered the room and bowed. Thranduil gave her the instructions and she accompanied us back to our room. We passed the courtyard and the hundred or so Elves there gave us a rousing chorus of 'thank yous.'

I guess being under a spell makes you feel as pathetic as it makes you look…They must have been practicing. I don't know how they managed it simultaneously…maybe they had a lookout.

They have way too much time on their hands.

I can hear Browne's voice, but really wasn't paying attention. Eowyn nudges me suddenly.

"Huh?" I blinked, and saw that Browne is staring at me.

"I said, are you sure you don't mind me coming along?"

"Oh, no,…not at all…The more the…merrier."

"If you can call it that…" Arwen sighed.

"You know…" Belgaer mused, sizing up Browne. "You really don't seem like the type to apply for the position of servant." Oh, that's nice.

She's got a point, though. This elleth was…different…to put it briefly. And politely.

"Nope." She grinned evilly. "I was just waiting for an opportunity like this to come along. Sue slaying is my specialty."

Valar! Why am I the only one who had never previously heard of such a thing as a Mary-Sue! Though, to be perfectly honest, I was much happier before I knew there were others like my mother out there. Seiryu World was a much happier place before I learned this.

"Oh! I forgot to tell you!" Browne started suddenly. "Two things: Some people by the name of Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin will be meeting us in Gondor once we are finished with our mission. And two, word came from Minas Tirith that Celeste has tragically lost her voice and Starr can no longer sing….The hysterically-sobbing messenger was then smacked back to his senses. That works too."

"It's just as I expected…" Arwen smiled, looking rather scary. I really can't guessed what she's thinking, for I wasn't blessed with mind-reading capabilities. It would be nice, though. I couldn't have practiced on my mother, though. What mind?