Disclaimer: I do not own LOTR, or any of its characters. If you don't recognize it, then I own it...so hands off. Legolas: Wow... that was a little harsh. Me: I'm PMS-ing. Legolas: Did anyone ever tell you what a joy you are to be around? Me: Bite me, Elfboy.The Mary-sue Chronicles
Summary: My apologies in advance...I couldn't help myself. I've written a blatant Mary-sue. I was weak. I couldn't resist the plot bunnies anymore. Bad, author, bad! I will continue to scourge myself until I have finished this story and gotten it out of my system. Hopefully. Rated "R" for adult content, strong language, etc., etc...hey - if I'm gonna do it, I'm gonna do it right...Chapter 1
Lost in Translation
The day that changed my life forever started out like any other...my alarm rang. I hit the snooze and fell back asleep. It rang again. I hit the snooze again and fell back asleep. It rang again. I picked it up and threw it across the room.
I got out of bed - eventually - and stumbled into the bathroom. Looking into the mirror, I winced at my reflection. I am still not sure if it was the hair doing that funky Don King thing...or the drool caked on my chin...or the eyes ringed with crow's feet...or the People magazine with Jennifer Aniston on the cover that was lying on top of the toilet tank that sent me over the edge. Whatever it was...I lost it. Completely. Right there, standing over my bathroom sink, I absolutely, positively lost my mind.
"Shit on toast!" I yelled, my voice echoing off the tiles, flinging my tube of Aquafresh across the room. "Just exactly how is it decided that people like her get to be gorgeous, skinny, and sleeping with Brad Pitt, and people like me get to be puffy-eyed, bubble-butted, and sleeping with Prozac? I really want to know! NOW! Somebody ANSWER ME!"
I stood panting over the sink, pieces of shredded People drifting to the floor around my Scooby Doo slippers. Taking a deep breath, I looked again into the mirror above the sink, and saw...not me. The face looking back was definitely not my own. I knew it wasn't me because the face that was looking back at me had smooth, unblemished skin, and clear eyes...and a beard. On my worst day, facial hair at least had never been a problem. Still, my hands flew to my chin just to make sure.
"Huh?" I said, blinking rapidly to see if the image in the mirror changed.
"Are you always this brilliant a conversationalist in the morning?" the Face In The Mirror asked, raising an elegant eyebrow.
"Oh, God...I'm insane. It's never a good sign when you start seeing things...but when you start hearing voices, too..." my voice trailed off as I stared at the not-me reflection.
"You aren't crazy. And stop stroking your chin...you don't have a beard and you'll give yourself a rash," The Face In The Mirror admonished.
"Who are you and what are you doing in my mirror?" I heard myself ask.
"Glad you finally decided to join the conversation. My name is Manwe, and I am here to answer your question."
"The one you were screaming just a few moments ago! Remember? The whole 'how is it decided that she gets to blah, blah, blah, and I get to blah, blah, blah..."
"Oh, yeah, right. That question. Okay, well...what's the answer?" I asked, still not sure if the conversation was actually happening, or simply in my head.
"The answer is...because."
"Because? BECAUSE? What the hell kind of an answer is that? You come into my bathroom, listen to my private ravings, take up space in my mirror, and all you can tell me is BECAUSE?" I yelled, looking at the Face In The Mirror in utter disbelief. "Because WHY?"
"Just because. It is simply a random act of nature...there is no reason. She was born the way she was because of a random mixing of genetic material...and you were born the way you were because of the same reason," Manwe replied, rather smugly.
"Tell me you're not serious with that answer. Do I look like a moron to you? I already KNOW that. The question was really WHO decides WHO get WHICH genes, and WHY!"
"Oh. Well, then I suppose we must wax philosophical. The answer, of course would depend on your religious beliefs..."
"Oh SHUT UP! It's too early in the morning and I'm too freaked out right now to debate religion with a reflection in my bathroom mirror. Go away," I said flatly, turning and stalking out of the bathroom.
I went into the kitchen, almost managing to convince myself that I had dreamed the entire Face In The Mirror thing. I turned on the coffeepot, hoping the caffeine would clear my head. I was passing the microwave that hung above my stove, when I caught a reflection in the dark door.
"Oh, no...not you again!" I said to the face peering out at me.
"Would you PLEASE come back to the bathroom? It's a very dark in here, and I can't see very clearly through this glass."
"NO! GO AWAY!" I bellowed, racing out of the kitchen and locking myself in my bedroom.
"This is getting tiresome. I am not going to chase you all around the house forever. I have better things to do, you know," Manwe said from the full-length mirror on the back of my bedroom door. "Stop being difficult."
"Who asked you to chase me? I asked you to go away! Why are you still here? For that matter, why are you here at all?" I yelled, frustrated, because in order to get out of my bedroom I would have had to put my hand disturbingly near the mirror on the back of the door, and I wasn't about to get too close.
"Finally, an intelligent question...just when I was beginning to despair of you EVER asking one..." Manwe said, rather sarcastically. "I am one of the Valar, created by Eru to...'
"One of the what created by who?"
"Will you please not interrupt? Haven't you ever read Tolkien? The Hobbit? Lord of the Rings?"
"Yeah, about a thousand years ago in school."
"Good. As I was saying, I am one of the Valar..." Seeing the blank look that remained on my face, Manwe rolled his eyes and sighed. "Surely, you've at least seen the movies?"
"Oh, yeah, sure...all three. You weren't in them."
"Don't remind me. I don't know what Peter Jackson was thinking...oh never mind! The reason I am here is because Eru decreed that every hundred years, give or take a decade, the Valar need to prove that they can still profoundly affect people's lives. It used to be a piece of cake with all the wars, and rings of power, and so on, but lately it's been getting more difficult. We're starting to run out of people who need to be influenced. So, when I heard your banshee screaming fit, I thought, 'now here's a perfect opportunity to show Eru that I still have what it takes!'"
"Wait a minute...you just mentioned Tolkien. If he made you up when he wrote the books, then why are you speaking like the whole story of the Lord of the Rings is real? For that matter, if he made you up, how can you have taken up residence in my mirror?"
"You really are not very bright, are you?" He asked scornfully. "Do you think you're the only one who has ever owned a mirror?"
"Are you telling me that you showed up in Tolkien's bathroom one day?"
Manwe giggled. "He was shaving at the time...with a straight edged razor. Nearly lost him before I could even tell him who I was! Regardless, he got to write the stories..."
"Well, goody for Tolkien. What does that have to do with me?"
"If I'm not mistaken, you are envious of the woman on the cover of that magazine, aren't you?"
"ENVIOUS? Of her? Why, that's the most ridiculous thing I've ever hea..." I stopped at the look of skepticism on Manwe's reflected face.
"Please. Do I look like I fell off the turnip cart yesterday?" he asked, raising a brow in a most annoying manner.
"Alright. So, maybe I'm a teeny bit jealous...it's just that some people seem to have it all, and refuse to share the wealth with the rest of us poor slobs."
"Good, then we're agreed. Now, as to my plan for you, it is really quite simple. Ingenious, but simple. I cannot change your life in your current world, but I can in MY world. So...Tolkien got to write about us, but YOU get to live here!"
"I do live here."
"Not YOUR here...MY here...Oh, for Eru's sake..." With that, Manwe reached out, grabbed hold of my arm, and pulled me into the mirror...Scooby Doo slippers, and all.