Welcome back to the madness! Mwahahaha! Review time!
trollalalala - I had to look the Mice and Men reference because I actually first saw it in an old Looney Tunes cartoon. And it is a favourite quote of my dad's for when we have a watermelon to cart around. (The full extent of my dad's madness will be revealed when Shadowfax makes his debut. *Ominous music*)
androidilenya - Yay for crazy old ladies! I love crazy old ladies!
Meepalicious - Ah, the bunny. Go back and find who else speaks like the bunny. It will turn up again in later chapters if you still can't get it. :D
Certh - You really want one? I wouldn't trust it!
the Random Olliphaunt - Ah, the crazy old lady. I know her very well, as you will shortly find out.
assymetricalreapertrash - Hello! Thanks for finding this little piece of madness so funny!
So, I have a little confession to make, guys. A secret I'm not very proud of. So here we go.
Once upon a time there was a young girl who liked to pretend that she was a cat with bronze fur. And this girl loved to read and loved to write stories about her favourite characters. The absolutely best thing to do was come up with new characters! There was always someone, a girl obviously, missing from the story that gave the tale a certain... something. So she quite happily slapped them straight into the narrative. Legolas' younger sister (inexplicably also Galadriel's granddaughter and inexplicably also called Arwen) or Aragorn's daughter Aragwena (she was possessed by the spirit of Sauron and her name was a mix of her parents'- SO CLEVER!) or The Other One. The One known only as Healer because her real name would implode the entire works of C. S. Lewis.
No, seriously. If the name is written then- KA-BLOOIE*! All future generations will lose the ability to walk repeatedly into the backs of wardrobes in the hopes of discovering a magical land. Nobody wants that.
These characters were so utterly amazing that the girl wondered why there weren't more like this. Then she discovered Twilight and spent a few years worshipping the stupid sparkly vampires and professing her love for men several centuries older than her but frozen in time. She still contemplated the others, the ones she invented. They were really amazing characters, in her opinion. And their stories were amazing too.
But then the young girl grew up. And she learned what a fool she had been; that these stories didn't need any additional main characters and if she really wanted to introduce one then she should keep them away from the main narrative. And that Twilight was badly written rubbish.
Yet nothing is so easy. One day she awoke to discover herself in a strange land. With glee, she realised that she was in Middle Earth. Excited, she set off to enjoy the story she knew so well to the fullest. What a surprise she was in for...
This is the fate of the Girl in Middle Earth.
Asfaloth cantered easily into Minas Tirith. Glorfindel kept his hood up as they navigated the streets of the city. He was unsure as to how common a sight Elves were in the city and he did not want to make a spectacle of himself.
With little difficulty, he found the Hall of the Archives and he ventured inside.
The Archives were kept in a high and draughty hall somewhere on the fifth level. It was impossibly dusty and dark inside.
"Hello?" he called into the mess of papers and manuscripts. There was a clattering from up above and suddenly a basket dropped from the ceiling. The Keeper of the Archives was sitting in said basket and she looked as irritable as when Glorfindel had seen her in the Palantir. He looked up and saw, in the dim light, a system of pulleys and ropes spanning the roof of the chamber. Very neat, it eliminated the need for ladders. The Keeper could pull herself to the height she needed and manoeuvre herself around as she pleased.
"Well? What do you want? I haven't got all day!" she barked.
"I want some information," he said. She snorted and clambered out of the basket.
"Of course you do. Everyone wants bloody information when they come here, that is why we have archives."
She picked up a lantern and hobbled off into the depths of the Archives. Glorfindel paused and then hurried after her, scared he would lose her amongst all the mess.
Eventually they reached a small desk. She sat behind it and motioned for him to take the seat opposite.
"What type of information can I do you for?" she asked.
"There is a troublesome maiden..." he began and hesitated in the brain-frying glare she directed at him.
"If you are having woman troubles then don't come to me!" she said and reached for her inventory.
"No, you do not understand! She is changing the very nature of the places and people around her!" he exclaimed. Her pen juddered to a halt on the page and she squinted at him.
"Is she the most beautiful maid you have ever set eyes upon?" she asked quietly.
"Oh, yes! Her hair is like soft waves of moonlight, her eyes gateways to paradise, her figure the epitome of feminity-" he began to babble and then slapped a hand over his mouth in horror.
The Keeper glared at her and then burst into a high-pitched keening laughter. She rolled in her seat, tears streaming down her withered old face until she eventually slid off her chair with a thump.
"Oh my days, that is the funniest thing I have heard in many a year," she said merrily from under the desk. She clambered back on to the chair and leered at Glorfindel in a way that made his blood run cold. "Elf-Lord, you have yourself a Mary-Sue."
The Fellowship were sitting moodily at their final camp before they left the Anduin. Frodo gave a heart-felt sob and raised a large spotted handkerchief to dab at his eyes. Aragorn ignored him. He had been doing it on and off ever since Gandalf's death.
Boromir laid a hand on the Hobbit's shoulder. "Don't dwell on your sorrow," he said softly. "The pain shall pass eventually. Gandalf would not want you to be like this."
There was a loud cough and he looked around to see Galabríawenúthien standing over them. She reached in a sleeve and produced a scroll with a flourish.
"You are not on Ringbearer-comforting duties this week Boromir! You are on firewood! See!" she said and shoved the scroll in his face. He snatched it off her and produced a delicate pair of pince-nez to read with.
"Ringbearing - Frodo Baggins... Cuisine- Samwise Gamgee... Haircare- Leggy... Firewood- Boromir," he read. "Fine. I shall go get firewood them, seeing as how I can't offer words of comfort."
He stood and stomped off into the woods next to their campsite.
"No... no, I cannot mope here!" Frodo exclaimed. "I am off to mope elsewhere."
He followed Boromir into the woods.
Aragorn had ignored all of this. Until the scroll was thrust in his face, that is.
"Aragorn!" Galabríawenúthien snapped. "You aren't fulfilling your designated tasks!"
He focused on the piece of parchment. Aragorn- Leadership and Brooding about Kingly Destiny.
"Brooding?" he asked coldly. She nodded.
"Yes, brooding. Sit and stare moodily into the distance as you contemplate taking the throne of Gondor and all the consequences that comes with it. And I suppose you can ponder the implications of loving my sister while you are at it."
"She's not your sister," he muttered as she walked away.
He reached for his pack and dug around for his pipe but as he did so his eye wandered around the camp and fell on Sam. His mouth fell open.
The Hobbit sitting before him was not the obese monstrosity that had accompanied the Fellowship thus far but the slightly portly and intelligent-eyed young fellow he had met in Bree. He was glancing around nervously at the others and trembling uncontrollably.
"Sam!" Aragorn hissed. The Hobbit jumped and then shuffled over to the Ranger as quickly as possible.
"Aragorn! What is happening? We got to Rivendell and Mr Frodo had been summoned to the Council and I was going to follow, not meaning no 'arm or disrespect, when suddenly everything went black! Then, it wasn't me controlling my body! I've been shouting and fighting for weeks but it seems like I only just got through!" he gabbled.
"Yes, Sam. I fear that dark forces are affecting the Fellowship from within and we must-"
He was cut off by a shriek from Galabríawenúthien and his hand went instantly to his sword, terrified that the full extent of her wrath would be released upon them. But she wasn't sprinting towards them, eyes blazing in anger.
"The Handkerchief of Foresight!" she screamed and, pulling it out with a flourish, draped it over her eyes. "Something terrible is going to happen!" she said ominously. "The Handkerchief shows me death..."
The proud, brassy note of Boromir's horn rang through the trees and the Fellowship leapt to their feet.
"Sam, find Frodo!" Aragorn yelled as he sprinted for the woods.
There was a steady rhythm beating its way through the trees. Boom Boom Clap! Boom Boom Clap!
As he neared, he heard the terrifying mess spewing from the mouths of the Orcs.
"You got blood on yo' face, you big disgrace! Waving your banner all over the place! We will, we will, rock you!"
Oh dear.
It was catchy though. Unusual for the Orcs.
He charged into the middle of them, his sword cutting through limbs and sequins galore.
When he at last found the poor body of Boromir, he fell to his knees. He clasped Boromir's outstretched hand.
"What is happening?" Boromir asked. He was not the oafish pig anymore. The dying man before Aragorn was a great warrior and a noble man. The man he should be.
"It's her, isn't it? I could feel her in my mind. Twisting me," he said. Aragorn nodded. "You must not let her destroy my City. Please Aragorn," he whimpered.
"I promise, Boromir."
"So that's it. The Fellowship is broken," Frodo said heavily. Sam was relieved to discover that his Master was once again the sober-faced middle aged Hobbit he knew and loved and not the cutesy thing that had carried the Ring from Rivendell. Together they had crept down to the boats and were now making their way across the river towards the Eastern bank. They both agreed it was for the best.
"Maybe, Mr Frodo," Sam said. "But we will keep going; we'll see this job done."
Neither of them noticed the pair of luminous eyes rise slowly from the waters of the Anduin and watch them carefully as they arrived at the far bank.
"Sailing, with no lifejackets? Oh dear, oh dear, precious. Most unsafe. Whatever will we do?" the mouth belonging to the eyes burbled and then the head vanished back beneath the water with as much noise as it had come.
"And there you have it," the Keeper finished. "Everything you could possibly know about Sues."
Glorfindel shifted in his seat. "How do you know all of this?" he asked. She fixed him with a piercing eye that only had a slight hint of madness. She leaned forward in his seat.
"Because I know who makes the Sues," she said. "What would you say if I told you that I was not born in this world?"
He blinked, his face completely blank, and she started to gabble in a strange and crude tongue, her shoulders shaking with laughter. Eventually she switched back to a tongue he recognised.
"Oh, I had a good life in my old world. A nice house, great friends. When, all of a sudden, I woke up in a field a couple of miles from Bree! Imagine my delight to find myself in this wonderful land! I couldn't wait to find the Elves; to explore Arda; hey, even maybe get to Éomer before Lothíriel! A teenage fangirl can dream. But nooooooooooooooooooooooooooo ! I dropped in forty years before he was even born! And I did not speak a word of the Common Tongue and the only Sindarin I knew was Mae Govannen. Big help. I got a minor job in Bree; learned the lingo; made my way to Minas Tirith and I've been here ever since," she said. "It's been an interesting life. But I've had plenty of time to study the Sues and I know all about them. We shall get rid of this plague... or die trying!"
There was silence in the Archives.
"Well, OK. Not dying. The Sue is the only one who is going to die. Preferably in fire. And lots of it," she snarled.
*Ka-blooie - (KA-BLOO-EE) A technical term for complete and utter implosion of a literary world due to the meddling of a Sue. The destruction you have witnessed at the hands of Galabríawenúthien is the sort of meddling that would ultimately result in Ka-blooie if allowed to run unchecked.
So there you have it. In case it wasn't obvious, I am the crazy old lady. If I fell into Middle Earth and got old. And I used to write the most god-awful Sues imaginable. It's not really that much of an excuse but I was really young when I did and I truly did not know any better. Thank goodness the stories aren't uploaded anywhere.
I still have The One's fic on my hard-drive. I go back and laugh at it every now and then.
So, you have two choices this time around. Firstly, you can describe what would happen if you landed in Middle Earth. And please be realistic. I can count on one hand the number of times I have ridden a horse so I know there is no way in hell that I would go sprinting for Rohan and nab a horse. And anyone who marries a major canon character will be forced into a one hour ballet class with the Orcs.
Or, CONFESS! I have confessed to writing Sues and I cannot be the only one! Tell us about the worst Sue you have written, intentionally or unintentionally!
Until next time!