Well, happy holidays to everyone. Wanted to get this up before Christmas, but I didn't have time. Jet lag is a nasty thing. Plus I've been throwing a great deal of effort into my more serious fic at the moment, and I kind of left these guys hanging. Apologies will be doled out at the end of the show with a side of leftover stale Christmas cookies. This is Part 1 of the Crime Drama Sue section, so buckle up.

Disclaimer: Don't own Middle Earth, Doctor Who, or the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, although I really wish I did. Follow-up question: Is the movie adaptation of that worth watching? Because I've come across a variety of opinions.

Part 1

Crime Drama Sue: A practical excuse to ship a Mary Sue with a significant canon character. By changing everything about the universe the story is set in, the Suethor hopes that no one will berate her for changing one simple pairing. Plus it gives the Sue an excuse to pack heat.

Between Galadriel, Ziva, and the Faramirs, you could cut the sexual tension with a knife. Now, I'm not one for romance, but I honestly wished they would all just find a pub and hook up in a drunken stupor so I wouldn't have to deal with this anymore.

After all, they say alcohol is a truth serum.

Personally, I think a near death experience is the ultimate truth serum (cop out or otherwise). But another perfectly valid answer would be aliens. Haughty, British, overrated aliens and the information they disclose to their kidnappers.

However, before I tell this story, a little disclaimer. Yeah, I know, we usually leave these things for the author, but I think in this case it's necessary. In regaling readers with the story of our genius* plan, I fully acknowledge that this was entirely Galadriel's idea, and so everything that happens afterward is therefore her fault.

It begins like every proper story- with a seemingly unsolvable problem and an unlikely group of jackasses trying to solve said problem.

More specifically, it begins with Ziva teaching Galadriel how to use an NCIS-issued pistol, because apparently despite all her knowledge of AU universes, Galadriel had come to the conclusion that the bigger the weapon, the better, and only ever researched how to fire a deer-hunting rifle. I thought those particular skills would come in handy right about now, seeing as all we had left in our food stash were marshmallows and lembas bread, but the Lady of the Golden Wood disagreed.

Thus, the Faramirs looked on in amusement, offering up snide remarks as Galadriel sturdied herself and aimed the pistol at a dead tree. This is an Elf we're talking about- she wouldn't hit a live one, although Filmamir did suggest she shag it, to which Tolkienmir followed up with the more appealing suggestion that she shag the resident assassin, who currently had her arms wrapped around Galadriel's to "steady her hands on the gun."

Steady her hands my ass. Much as I hated to admit it, Tolkienmir had a point. The UST was sparking so violently off them I swear we could have lit a signal fire then and there and waited for the Obscenely Huge Flying Eagle Rescue Squad to carry us wherever we needed to go.

Galadriel fired off a shot at the tree carcass, and her face spread into a grin I would really rather not have been subject to. Ziva clapped her on the back and muttered, "Nice shot," into her ear and for a moment I swore to the Valar she was going to kiss her cheek and a UST bomb was going to explode in the general vicinity.

"So are Indiana Pointy-Ears and Agent Romanoff done playing tease, or should we just strike out and kill the Sues on our own?" piped up Tolkienmir. A part of me really wished I'd said that; it put voice to my thoughts pretty well, but I was still too afraid of Galadriel's power to really challenge her head on. The Faramirs, of course, were shameless. Probably came from having spent so much time in the Golden Wood gathering dirt on the Lady of Light.

"Ahem," Ziva cleared her throat, letting go of Galadriel's shoulders and glancing awkwardly to the side. "Indeed, we should probably be hunting for the next Sue."

I leaned against a boulder. "Well, nothing seems particularly urgent right now; what say we just take a break for a while? Find someplace nice and settle down, preferrably some modern AU, with a swimming pool, comfortable beds and indoor plumbing." As I mentioned earlier, I'm not much of an outdoors person. I was quite literally itching to get out of the plains.

The grass dragged against my knees and had me scratching them all day long, the fields were painfully exposed, and I felt like I inhaled a dozen insects with every breath. I was probably covered in bites, and despite all her careful planning, Galadriel hadn't thought to pack a bottle of bug spray.

"Modern AU, huh?" That seemed to catch the Filmamir's attention.

Tolkienmir's eyes lit up, and I knew he'd gotten an idea that would either save us all, doom us all, or both. "Why, we do have some friends living it up in a modern AU. I don't believe we've paid them a visit recently."

"Yes," said Galadriel, "by their request."

Tolkienmir pouted. "What did we ever do to them?"

"Well, our head interrogator bribed their cat, stole their nachos, and almost gave birth in the NCIS bullpen. I think it's safe to say we pissed them off a little bit."

"Sorry to butt in," I said, eyeing Galadriel and the Faramirs, "but there are some of us here who haven't a clue what you're talking about."

Ziva nodded her agreement.

"You do remember Tauriel and Eowyn from the first fic?" Galadriel shot Ziva an apologetic look. "They were the agents who came to fetch you."

"An angry Elf dressed like he stepped out of the 1930's came to fetch me, actually."

"Ah," said Galadriel, "that would be Haldir, the Marchwarden."

"Well at least you didn't just get spit out of nowhere in the middle of the Valardamn forest with everything in your head but a clear idea of where you are," I muttered grudgingly. I'd only joined this company in the first place so I wouldn't spend the rest of my days wandering uselessly around the woods, living on nothing but bark and stream water that would probably give me giardia.

I did remember Tauriel and Eowyn, believe it or not. At least, I knew their story. But it wasn't as if I knew off the top of my head which of Galadriel's batty friends she was referring to at any given time.

"Either way, it's about time we started ignoring their restraining orders," Filmamir said.

"And paid a real visit, rather than Haldir and Spalko's disastrous and unsanctioned one, to the Dynamic Duo of the Last Fic," finished Tolkienmir.

It seemed that for the first time, we had just about come to an agreement. But The Plot just wouldn't settle for such a resolution. I stepped a few paces back and heard a sickening crunch under my feet. In horror, I looked down.

Galadriel's laptop lay crushed on the ground. She had left it wide open, and not only was the screen sporting a major crack, but its two parts had split unevently, wires hanging out of each.

There was a long, miserable silence. Galadriel knelt beside the broken device, but whatever healing magic she possessed only applied to living things.

"No," she murmured, scooping up the broken pieces of the laptop. "No…" She allowed her voice to trail off tragically. "At least Mithrandir could reincarnate."

"Um… you might want to replace that," said Ziva carefully. Her eyebrow shot up as Galadriel held the ruined laptop gently, her eyes betraying her panic.

"She was rather attached to that," said Filmamir.

Tolkienmir rolled his eyes. "It was the only thing that allowed her such great control over alternate universes. Plus she was streaming Downton Abbey, and she was halfway through season four. She'll off herself before she lets someone else tell her what happens to Edith and Micheal Gregson."

For a moment I was tempted to just write off the Lady's devastation as a bad case of Netflix Disease, but then I remembered- "Hold on. If the laptop is what allowed Galadriel control over alternate universes, was that our only way to transport ourself to the modern AU?"

Galadriel looked up, her eyes hollow and furious. "Yes," she said pointedly, collecting herself and tenderly placing the remains of her computer in her rucksack, next to the Field Guide. "Now we have but one choice."

Ziva's eyebrows shot up. "And what is that?"

Galadriel looked determinedly into the distance, the way people do when they want to appear majestic or particularly brooding. Think Thorin Oakenshield.

"We hijack a TARDIS."

"You have got to be kidding me."

So there we were, waiting between two boulders like the ragtag band of complete idiots we really are, for a TARDIS to come flying overhead. Galadriel had pulled a few unlikely things out of her rucksack and seemed determined not to explain their presence.

First, she had a complete kit of costume makeup.

Secondly, she had twenty feet of rope.

And lastly, she had a towel, washed and neatly folded, "just in case of an emergency."

"What's the makeup for?" I gestured to the set, now laying open in the grass. She shot me that same dangerous grin and not even bothered to answer. The Faramirs caught quick wind of her silence and burst out laughing at me.

"What?" I demanded.

"Last time she looked at someone like that," said Tolkienmir between chortles.

"They wound up piss drunk at the top of a tree after a trip to the Woodland Realm to appeal to the better nature of Suethor-Thranduil. To this day no one knows what happened."

I gulped. "How long ago was this?"

Tolkienmir shrugged his shoulders, still giggling like a pre-teen girl who just got asked to the dance. "Little while after Tauriel and Eowyn left. Spalko just about flayed Suethor-Thranduil alive before reinstating his canon counterpart, who, while perhaps a little vain and short-tempered, is far more reasonable than the Suethor's interpretation."

I grabbed Filmamir by the collar, dragging him down to my level (as I am unfortunately… vertically challenged, for a human). "I have been used twice as bait in this venture, and the second time I almost got laid by a carnivorous monster with unnatural eye color. Whatever scheme Galadriel has cooked up, you will get me out of it."

"Too late," came the singsong crow of Lady Galadriel, who had spread her costume makeup across the grass. "You're the perfect height and build to play hostile alien, if I do say so myself. All we have to do is make you look a little more threatening."

Honestly, I couldn't tell whether that was a compliment disguised as an insult or an insult disguised as a compliment.

I eyed the makeup suspiciously. "No. You're not putting that on my face. Not now, not ever. Not if this was our only hope of survival."

Galadriel narrowed her eyes. "How very eloquent of you, Sam-I-Am. Now come here and sit still."

I looked desperately at the Faramirs, but they had gone back to laughing at me. Ziva simply shot me a glance of the slightest pity and quirked her lips in amusement.

"Why me?" I whined.

"The rest of us are all too recognizable. And Ziva looks more like an attractive doctor's companion than an alien; I doubt I could make her look like a hideous monster if I tried."

The Faramirs snickered.

"Oh, hush," muttered Galadriel as I reluctantly sat in front of her.

"Why did you even have that thing with you anyway?" I grumbled as the first dabs of green face paint reached my nose.

"Thought it might come in handy. You never know when you might need someone to look like a Sue or a Stu. Or an extra-terrestrial out for blood."

"Really, though," said Filmamir, "there's no difference between them."

The makeup took hours, but at last I was ready. I didn't even ask for a mirror, but I could see the different shades of green covering my face. She'd even stuck me with scarwax and prosthetics over my nose, my chin… everywhere.

It was itchier than the bug bites.

"I want the towel," I demanded.

"Nonsense," said Galadriel briskly, scooping it up and shoving it back into her rucksack, which was apparently a lot bigger than it looked. "It's for emergencies only. If you cover it in paint now, you'll regret it when we find ourselves in a life threatening situation."

"Why do you need a towel anyway?"

"Who knows? Now go into that field and act like a hostile alien."

"How would I know what a hostile alien looks like?"

"Just imagine the being trapped in a small dark room forced to listen to Tolkienmir's singing. That ought to drive you mad enough."

I grimaced. "Yeah, that'll do it."

"Great, now off with you." She shoved me toward the field, and I stumbled out into the open. Well, crap. What to do now?

I waved my arms around like a mad Cthulhu for a while, as if that would do anything. Galadriel had the Faramirs set up behind two bushes, each Faramir clutching a thick Elven rope that would hopefully be enough to restrain any alien which landed.

I pranced about the field like a moron for a few hours, sure that Galadriel's plan was so simple it would fail, when we finally managed to flag down a tardis. The thing dropped out of the sky like a glowing refrigerator and I only had a few seconds to get out of the way before it landed.

The door swung open, and there stood the Doctor, in all the glory of his 10th form, that being the form which had the fangirls screaming.

He took one look at me, and his eyebrows shot up into his forehead. "What the hell are you doing?" he demanded, looking me up and down. "An Earth man costumed up like some tentacled thing. I sensed signs of unusual life on this planet. A distress signal from a stranded ship, not some wackjob dancing in an empty field."

I blinked at him. "Um… well…" I hadn't the faintest clue what to say; after all, I knew precious little about the Doctor. The Fourth Wall didn't bother to cover that universe, so I'd never learned about it. "You see…"

"Is that… cream paint?" He gestured to my face.

I glared at him. "Yes, in fact, it is. Do you have a problem with that?" Don't blame me for my attitude. I'd been out there far too long, and my face had begun to itch like nothing else. "It's a style you wouldn't understand."

Half-truth: It might not have been a style, but I certainly didn't understand it.

"Very well, then. Are you in distress, because I followed your signal."

"I've been in distress for a long time," I muttered. "Where were you to save me when I got into that ATV with the two Faramirs and Galadriel?"

"Excuse me?" The Doctor leaned in, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion. "Didn't quite catch that."

That was when Filmamir jumped him from behind, and I breathed a sigh of relief at not having to answer him. They wrestled to the ground, and Tolkienmir tied his hands behind his back. Personally, I don't think either Faramir was in a rush to get off him by the time Galadriel approached, looking quite pleased with herself.

"That's enough," she said with a wave of her hand, and the Faramirs reluctantly released him, hands and feet bound together. "Did you frisk him?"

They nodded, rather enthusiastically.

"Good."

Staring down at the Doctor, I wondered again how I had ever managed to get myself into this mess.

"I must admit, Doctor, for such a wizened old character, your reflexes are somewhat lacking."

The Doctor wrinkled his nose. "Who are you?" he asked derisively.

Galadriel's smile faded into a glare. "I am the Lady of the Wood. And I am quite a bit older and wiser than you. So keep your mouth shut."

She could honestly be quite frightening when she wanted to. I was sure of the older part, but the wiser part... well perhaps she had the mirror for a reason. She possessed far more wisdom, I'm sure, than she did foresight.

"I have a request to make of you. We need the TARDIS."

Well. That cut straight to the point. Apparently the Lady of the Wood was also lacking in tact when dealing with extra-terrestrials.

"Now hold on." The Doctor, too, looked sufficiently annoyed. Probably had to do with being tied up in Elven ropes. "Who sent out a distress signal to lure me in in the first place?"

"I will be asking the questions here," Galadriel snapped, in her best Gibbs voice, and I wondered how many cop shows she'd been watching to have picked up so accurately on their cheesy methods of interrogation. I was fairly certain that most cops didn't interrogate people the way they did on TV. "Do you or do you not possess a transportation device capable of bringing us between dimensions."

The Doctor nodded. "I do, but you have to know how to operate it properly-"

"And do you or do you not have the capability of travelling in time?"

"Well, yes, I do, but-"

"Then I guess it's settled. Faramirs, I need you to get in the TARDIS. Ziva, bring him with us." She straightened out her hat on her head. I was still rooted to the spot, rather shocked at what had just gone down.

We had just kidnapped a Time Lord.

We had just… kidnapped… a Time Lord.

Why, oh why, did I sign up for this job?

Galadriel patted my shoulder as she passed by. "Nice work, Max. I'm sure there's a sink in that spaceship somewhere that you can use to wash all that oil paint off your face."

That was… shit.

"That was oil paint the whole time?"

But she was already in the ship. Rolling my eyes, I high-tailed it into the TARDIS. It was far bigger on the inside, which already bent the laws of nature. No wonder the Fourth Wall had never bothered to cover this place. It would have shattered universes ago otherwise.

Galadriel and Ziva were at the controls, pressing random buttons. The door closed, and I could feel it start to spin. I grabbed at the walls.

"How do you work this?" Galadriel shouted over her shoulder to the Doctor, but he shook his head wildly. "Ziva, press that big red button and see what it does!"

A nice hot cup of tea poured out of a hatch.

Then everything was quiet.

"Where are we?"

I tried to pry open the door. "It's sealed!" The Faramirs groaned, still holding onto the Doctor. They seemed rather impressed at his physique.

"How did you even get him to land a ship this complicated? There was a distress signal!"

Galadriel grinned at me, holding up the towel.

"The universe works in mysterious ways."

"You are completely mad," the Doctor scoffed, struggling against the grip of the Faramirs. "And what the hell is the towel for?"

*Genius: A really bad idea, usually not thought out at all, that by some miracle actually works

Synonyms: winging it

That's it for now, folks! In the next chapter we might actually meet our Mary Sue :) Also, I don't know too much about the Doctor, and he'll be around for a little while, so Doctor Who fans, feel free to correct any mistakes I made in writing him. I'd also like to note that the Battle of Five Armies was everything I expected it to be, the good and the bad. And Galadriel was badass, man. I kind of wanted to get up and cheer for her. Totally awesome. She definitely made the movie and lived up to the power of her parody persona.

Now I'll just be straightforward with you guys and beg for reviews, rather than bribe you with some underhanded technique like stale Christmas cookies.

Have a Happy New Year, and don't forget to make an extensive list of resolutions you know you'll never be able to keep :)