Well hi again, dear readers! The delay has been long, but I present to you the second chapter of this crazy mess. I'd like to establish here and now that the Mary Sue names in question are chosen deliberately, but any references to real character names in ongoing fanfics are not purposeful. Also, some of them will be butchered Elvish. Feel free to correct my Elvish, but I did butcher it deliberately for the effect.

Disclaimer: I don't own Tolkien. Or Disney. Or Marvel. Although technically if I owned Disney I would own Marvel. But if I were in charge Cinderella would have gone and joined Shield to take charge in her life instead of relying on magic. Guns are far more reliable than magic in the long run. Take it from Tauriel and Eowyn.

Frozen Amnesiac Sue: Found either shivering and memoryless on the slopes of Caradhras wearing a remarkably form-fitting dress that only the Valar know where she got, or frozen into a block of ice that the Fellowship has to cleave with their weapons to break and free her from, this Sue snags her man of choice by roping them into her quest to cure her amnesia and unlock the magical powers she now possesses.

Sub-species: A particular sub-species of Frozen Amnesiac, discovered in November of 2013, often possesses the magical ability to control ice and snow for no discernable reason. Now thought to be the result of a genetic mutation in the fic due to the Suethor's overexposure to Disney's "Frozen."

I'm going to insist right now that this wasn't my idea. I'm not, by any standards, what one would call 'outdoorsy.' Which probably made Middle Earth a pretty hard place to live in, but at least I'd gotten out of the serious hiking.

Except, as Galadriel had sardonically spelled out for me when we finally got to Azanulbizar, ATVs wouldn't get them through Caradhras. Because, as she informed me, "it's a glacier. The pass will still be covered with snow, and the ATVs won't be able to operate on the paths we're taking." Apparently the Lady of the Golden Wood did climate research.

"How do you know what the terrain limits are for an ATV?" I demanded, doing my best to avoid the prospect of walking up a glacier.

Galadriel glared at me. "This isn't just a bloody costume, Max. Who do you think test-drove those things while they were in Lothlorien? I studied the limits of all-terrain vehicles extensively planning this excursion."

"Only because you were bored," grumbled Filmamir, "We were the ones who fetched it from the Anduin because you wanted to see if it would drive all the way across."

"And we were the ones who got it down from that tree," piped up Tolkienmir.

"Never mind how you managed to crash it up there."

Filmamir threw me a sidelong glance. "She's remarkably good at crashing things," he said in a stage-whisper, earning him another hard glare from Galadriel.

"Driving skills aside," Ziva spoke up from the other ATV, covering it with fallen branches so as to hide it from hostile passerby, "It won't be as bad as you think." She held up two sets of skis and skins. My mouth fell open.

Galadriel smirked, a peculiar expression on such a regal face. "I did a good bit of preparing for this quest," she said smugly.

One thing you should know about Parody Galadriel- she looks exactly like canon-Galadriel, but she's got an acerbic tongue and the witty, self-satisfied bearing of a classic action character. Think Harrison Ford (of course) meets Sigourney Weaver meets Men in Black. Now throw a sword, a few Mary Sues, a human brain-spawn, an assassin, and a little bit of Faramir-cest into the mix. Instant chaos.

We strapped the skis to the packs Ziva had tossed to each of us- Galadriel really had thought of everything- and set out toward the Pass of Caradhras.

A few hours into the hike, I was already on the verge of collapse. "Tell me again," I huffed, lugging up the trail behind Filmamir "why we couldn't just go through the Gap of Rohan?"

Galadriel threw me a scathing look over her shoulder as she adjusted her hat. She looked quite a character- still wearing the stupid fedora even as we trekked up Caradhras on skis.

"We will not find the Sue if we take the Gap of Rohan!" she called back to me.

"You haven't even told us which Mary-Sue we're going after!"

Filmamir and Tolkien shared a glance in front of me. "He's got a point!" they shouted to her in unison, where she was deep in conversation with her hired assassin.

Rolling her eyes, Ziva muttered something to Galadriel and they stopped, Galadriel pulling her field guide out of her backpack. She motioned for the company to gather around as she flipped through it, past the page with the Classic GDIME that they had taken out on the borders of Lothlorien.

Narrowing her eyes, Galadriel pointed to a blank page headed Frozen Amnesiac. "This is the one," she said darkly. The image was of an etherreally beautiful, dark-haired young woman lying in the snow like a dead princess.

"Well I'll be darned," I muttered. "It's Snow White."

"Hilarious," Tolkienmir deadpanned.

"This, gentleman..." Galadriel began, followed by a loud cough from Ziva, "...and hired hit-woman, is a peculiar species of Mary Sue that the Fellowship either finds lying unconscious in the snow or cryogenically frozen for a thousand years. That way she looks sixteen but is actually the perfect age to fall in love with Legolas."

"That's a very new-agey species of Sue," I commented grimly.

Galadriel shrugged. "Well most of them don't understand how to cryogenically freeze a corpse. It usually requires liquid nitrogen and the proper equipment to preserve them for re-awakening (which is really only hypothetical at this stage anyway), although technically speaking you could take DNA from one of the frozen Sues and use it to clone them in a controlled environment."

Tolkienmir lifted a skeptical eyebrow at Galadriel. "Are you speaking from experience or from marathoning crime dramas?"

"I have been thrown into a murder mystery AU before."

"As the detective or the murderer?"

She offered only a sly half-smirk in response. "The point is, I am well versed in the worlds beyond my own. And rather immersed in the possibilities of science."

I shook my head in disbelief. "You are so out-of-character."

"I still retain my mystery, do I not?" she inquired, her face masked with false innocence. Then she schooled her features into the appearance of a stern scholar and returned her attention to the book. "The Sue in question is frozen in time, with no memory of where she came from. Usually that allows a nice, tragic back story to unravel as she develops a relationship with Aragorn or Legolas. Usually Legolas, though. She also generally possesses some form of magical power, so we must be careful." She closed the field guide and stuffed it back into her rucksack. "Any more questions?"

There was a murmur of assent amongst us as we slung our packs back on. "From here," said Ziva, "shouldn't we use the skis? The snow is growing deeper."

So we all strapped on our skis, and my misery heightened further. I am an intellectual, thank you very much. I prefer not to engage in physically strenuous activities if I can avoid it. I mean, I've only ever existed intellectually anyway, in the dimension within the Fourth Wall until it collapsed and left me floundering in Middle Earth with a crazy Elf queen, an ex-Mossad assassin, and the Faramirs. I've never skied before, and lemme tell you, it's not pleasant if you've never had prior experience. I'm sure Galadriel figure out how to use the things way back when she was crashing ATVs and planning out this whole Valar-forsaken trek that she's treating like a vacation.

Really, I didn't know the appeal that 10th Walkers found in trekking around a snow-capped mountain with a bunch of scraggly males. And, of course, Legolas, but his status as male was just about as debatable as his status as 'scraggly' in my opinion. Still, whatever was so attractive to them about this venture was beyond my understanding. Wiping the sweat from my brow, I shed my cloak and kept walking, because contrary to popular belief, walking in the snow does not cancel out the effects of sunlight and overexertion.

Eventually we stopped for the night in a small overhang free of snow, after what had felt like weeks trudging up the stupid glacier on wooden sticks. Galadriel pulled neatly wrapped packages of lembas from her rucksack, handing them around to each of us.

Also contrary to popular belief, lembas isn't as good as the Elves make it out to be. It's dry and crumbly like smashed crackers wet down in a stream and packed together with all natural peanut butter; you know, the kind that doesn't have any sugar in it. So basically it looks like astronaut oatmeal and tastes like craft glue. Real great, huh?

"Relax," Tolkienmir said, grinning as I choked it down. He reached into his pack and pulled out the most beautiful thing I had seen during my short time in Middle Earth: instant backcountry meals. We lit a fire quite efficiently despite out lack of matches (the things you can do with a little bit of motivation), holding out our instant meals and trying to heat them.

Turns out, plastic melts a lot more easily than food heats. And cold instant-meals are just not meant to be eaten.

But at the point, Galadriel decided to hold out on us and produced three packages of Jet-puff marshmallows. Marshmallows were a delicacy in Lorien, I guess. We stuck them on the ends of our ski poles and fried them until they were black. Charred sugar had never tasted so good.

Galadriel herself took one bite and reacted the same way I had when I'd tasted the lembas bread. "What dark spawn of Morgoth is this stuff?" she grumbled.

Filmamir snickered. "You're the one who brought it."

"I found them in the secret inter-universe food supply that you thought you were being discreet about," Galadriel said matter-of-factly, to which the Faramirs appeared quite taken-aback. "Now would you care to explain to me the origin of this horrific concoction?"

"Sugar and preservatives, a gift from my world," Ziva chuckled, swallowing her own marshmallow and reaching for the bag with a mischievous partial smile. She tossed a second on into the flames. "This is always a party trick."

Galadriel watched with disgusted fascination as the Marshmallow Ziva had thrown into the fire blackened and expanded, growing like an alien blob from the bad science fiction movies Spalko had introduced her to in the past months. Then a bubble of air popped in it, and it shrunk, charred and crinkly, into a shriveled ball of ash and fake sugar.

The Faramirs found the whole spectacle to be hilarious, although I'm not sure whether they were more amused by the marshmallow or by the horrified but completely captivated expression on Galadriel's face. Finally the Elf cringed and handed Ziva her ski pole, a second marshmallow on the end. "Here," she said grimly, "Please, keep that as far away from me as possible."

Just as we were about to douse the fire and climb into our respective sleeping bags (when Galadriel had said she was prepared, she wasn't kidding), a harsh crack sounded above our heads. I looked up just in time to see a huge block of ice break off from the cliffs and land in the snow just outside our cave, rattling the rocks and causing Filmamir to scream like his life depended on it.

"Wuss," Tolkienmir mumbled grudgingly as we approached the fallen piece of the mountain. The ice was blue and glittery, no specks of dirt visible in it. Yet I couldn't believe our luck. Because frozen into the block of ice was none other than a young woman, with one boot-clad foot sticking out of her freezing prison.

Mentally, I checked off the physical traits- silken hair as black as a night with no stars, delicate facial features like that of an Elf (so to speak- Galadriel's face with the fedora and the piercing eyes looks less 'delicate lady' and more 'kick-ass, old-fashioned private eye.'), a figure-hugging gown that she would not be wearing had she been traveling through Caradhras, no matter the time of year she'd been frozen, and large, round *ahem* eyes.

"How do we get her out?" I asked Galadriel, who was examining the ice block carefully from all sides.

"I can shoot her through it," said Ziva proudly, but Galadriel shook her head.

"That will do us no good," she observed. "Besides, I think we all know the easiest way of getting her out." She looked pointedly at the Faramirs.

"Key?" requested Filmamir, turning to his counterpart.

Tolkienmir sang a note, and Filmamir cleared his throat, taking a deep breath before allowing the melody to burst forth. "Let it go! Let it-"

The ice cracked open, and the Sue leapt to her feet, the cursed song tumbling melodiously from her full lips as snowflakes danced from her fingertips. I covered my ears as quickly as possible. The Sue was obviously a beautiful singer, but I had heard that song too many times for it to do anything other than make my ears bleed.

I looked around to find that everyone else had done the same, except for Ziva, who was fingering the handgun at her hip. Galadriel was eyeing the gun as well, although looking back I'm not sure it was the handgun she was staring at or just the assassin in general.

Finally, the Valardamned tune came to an end and the Sue stopped singing, instead offering up a generous display of her sparkling Disney-based ice powers. If you asked me (and probably anyone in our company) who was a better snow queen, we would all say Jadis, although I'm pretty sure only Galadriel and Faramirs know her personally from their escapades with the Guild of Characters Who Fanfiction has Butchered (the GCWFHB- also known as Middle Earth's most useless acronym).

"Who are you?" the Sue demanded. "What have you done with Legolas?"

"See, you're a bit early for the Fellowship of the Ring," Galadriel informed her dryly, reaching for the Field Guide in her rucksack.

"Oh! I do hope I have not come upon servants of the Dark Lord!"

Galadriel cocked an eyebrow. "Do I look like an Orc to you?"

"You resemble Lady Galadriel, but the true Lady of the Wood would not dare dress so uncharacteristically and unfeminine!" the Sue exclaimed.

Galadriel glared fiercely. "This is not unfeminine!" she hissed, reaching over for Ziva's gun. Ziva swatted her hand away from the firearm.

"If I don't get to shoot her, neither do you," growled the former Mossad agent.

"Why would you dare to shoot me?" The Sue asked innocently. "I am only Celandrennial Ithilierian! The last Snowmoon-Sister of Middle Earth! Why, I don't even remember my past, aside from the trauma it caused me."

I rolled my eyes. Her back story didn't even make sense, and her dialogue was horrendous. One of us had to do something.

"Come with me, my dear Celandrennial," said Filmamir, stepping forward, and her eyes lit up. Apparently she recognized him at least a little bit.

"Oh, thank you, kind Lord Faramir. Why, what are you doing in these parts?" she asked as he took her hand. Over his shoulder, he made desperate eye contact with Galadriel. Suddenly, the Elf's eyes lit up, as if a comic light bulb had appeared over her head with an idea.

She addressed the Sue with as much saccharin as possible. "Lady Celandrennial, it is a miracle you're still alive. Not even Elf magic can reverse the process of hypothermia."

The Sue's wide eyes flickered with worry at a little dose of reality.

"In fact," Galadriel continued, "most studies say that a subject buried in snow lasts about fifteen minutes before oxygen runs low, hypothermia sets in, and chances of survival decrease drastically. It must be faster with ice, don't you think? Not to mention that the idea of cryogenically freezing a body for a thousand years before allowing them to regenerate is purely speculation, and the process requires liquid nitrogen. The only special case is the Marvel universe, of course, and at the time of that debacle, Disney hadn't yet bought Marvel. Otherwise, it's entirely impossible for you to be here, even with magic. No magic in Middle Earth is capable of reversing death unless the Valar grant it, and only has that happened historically to a select few, Gandalf being the last. Unless you've slain a Balrog, which you certainly don't appear to have done, then you can't have returned from the dead, and cryogenics does not apply under these circumstances."

By the time Galadriel had finished ranting, the Sue was nothing more than a pile of animated snowflakes.

"She wasn't even a legitimate Disney character," I grumbled as Galadriel dusted off her hands with a smug look on her face.

"Well the Suethor had obviously taken inspiration from Disney, which is often a world based entirely on illogic, so providing her with a scientific explanation as to how there's no possible way for her to be alive with the story provided for her seemed to be the best way to kill her off. Two Sues down, too many more to go." She opened the book and read the Sue's page- newly filled- to the rest of us.

Celandrennial opened her mouth in protest to the stream of scientific blasphemy, but her rosy, plush lips could not speak. Her lavender violet-blue eyes glistened in fear as she felt her body begin to tingle. She tried to summon her powers over all the snow of Middle Earth, but failed. Her remarkable powers were gone. She could not even sing!

Slowly, she dissolved; a physically painless process but as psychologically damaging as a bad writer's first flame. The Suethor would survive, but her creation was no more.

The great evil of the frozen amnesiac Mary Sue, second only to the evil of marshmallows, had been defeated.

I turned to Galadriel. "Real pleased with yourself, aren't you?"

Hope you enjoyed! Please review :) Remember to always make potato chips, not air. Although that's my last running plea, so someone should send me some more creative ways of begging for reviews.