One Sue to rule them all
One Sue to find them
One Sue to bring them all
And in Arda's darkness, bind them
Yes, this is a Sue parody. I find it strangely soothing to sit down and write a truly terrible Mary Sue deliberately. Nearly everybody is OOC, Gandalf only because I doubt the words frigging, fuck and bugger are usually in his vocabulary. Yes, this fic contains all three. Albeit sparingly, Gandalf is not effing and blinding his way through it. Please enjoy reading it, it was written to entertain not irritate, the only exception being the Sue. I only own the Sue. Everything else belongs to the Tolkien estate and I mean no offence at all to the works of the Professor.
The Grey Pilgrim, Olórin, Mithrandir, Gandalf, for he had many names, had never needed a pipe more. He wrapped himself firmly in his cloak and slid down in his chair. Unbelievable. No matter how many times they cleansed Arda of this vile plague, it always managed to re-spawn.
"Gandalf, are you alright?" his companion next to him said. He turned in his seat. The Hobbit next to him was incredibly cute, with large and amazingly bright blue eyes and masses of dark curls. Unfortunately, this was not his usual appearance.
"Yes Frodo, my lad. I am merely impatient for this meeting to begin."
"Oh." The Hobbit looked around the Council chamber. "Who is that?" he asked, surreptitiously pointing to a Man directly opposite them. He was grim-faced and so big he appeared to be having difficulty sitting in the seat. An elleth was moving gracefully around the group distributing drinks but he waved her away with a clearly audible "Bloody women. Can't do anything right." Gandalf winced.
"That would be Boromir, a Man from Gondor," he said with false cheeriness. He met Aragorn's plaintive gaze. Aragorn mouthed a question and Gandalf nodded grimly. The Ranger's face paled and he accepted the drink from the elleth and downed it quickly.
"And, the dwarf there?" Frodo asked. The dwarf in question was barely unable to see out from his protruding eyebrows and thick beard. He had readily accepted the elleth's drink and the remains were still in his beard as was, it would appear, all of last week's meals. A chicken leg freed itself from its hairy nest and went bouncing across the flagstones.
"That is Gimli," Gandalf said. "His father was a companion of Bilbo on the Quest for the Lonely Mountain." He shut his eyes and offered up a silent scream of a prayer to the Valar. Please, oh please, don't ask about-
"And the elf?"
Bother. Gandalf opened his eyes and looked at the offending creature. It was sitting, a hand resting on its alabaster cheek, its platinum blonde hair fluttering in a non-existent breeze, its icy bambi-like blue eyes staring into the distance. It had only sighed wearily when the elleth offered a drink, causing the latter to collapse into a deep swoon that had taken Gandalf twenty frigging minutes to revive her from.
"That," Gandalf said grimly, "was once known as Legolas. It, I mean he, now prefers the name Leggy."
Elrond slowly walked into the Council chamber. "Have you seen it?" he hissed at Gandalf.
"No, but it's obviously somewhere in Imladris. Look at the four here it has affected!" Gandalf replied grimly. Elrond looked around and his eyes widened in horror when he saw Leggy.
"Thranduil is going to kill me," he muttered. "I've got Elladan and Elrohir looking for it but I think it might evade even them. It's a powerful one."
"Best get started and hope for the best," Gandalf muttered. Elrond nodded and strode for his seat. He settled his features into a suitable expression and then peeked at the script badly hidden in the folds of his robes.
"Strangers from distant lands, friends of old," he read. "You have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor. Middle Earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite or you will fall. Each race is bound to this fate, this one doom dramatic-pause-look-around-room-at-everybody bring forth the Ring, Frodo."
As Frodo stood, one little hand buried in his pocket, the doors flew open and another elleth flew in. Her waist length hair was of softest wilver, her eyes brightest urple, shining like two beautiful jewels in her lovely face. Her body was slim and clad in a long, flowing, and quite inappropriate for doing anything but sitting around in white dress, a quiver and bow over one shoulder.
"Oh my goodness!" the elleth gasped, placing a perfectly manicured hand on her chest. "I thought I'd missed y'all!"
Elrond appeared to sag noticeably as she spoke. His sons had failed. They were most likely lying in some garden of Imladris muttering to themselves about how lovely she was and how cursed they were never to know her affection. Aragorn was trying his best to look inconspicuous, difficult in a room with only twenty or so people. He had been subject to too many amorous advances by her kind, much to the growing annoyance of Arwen, and worse, every now and then one would pop up declaring to be a Ranger. Rangers weren't Elves, they were Dúnedain!
Leggy seemed to be the only one happy to see her. He sat up a little straighter and, if possible, his eyes became wider and more adoring.
"Can we help you, young lady?" Elrond said through gritted teeth.
"Oh Ada, don't you recognise your own daughter?" she chirruped. "I'm Arwen's younger sister Galabríawenúthien! You sent me to Lothlórien for my protection when I was younger but now I've returned to aid in the fight for Middle Earth!" She moved forward and sat in a chair that had magically sprung into existence next to Glorfindel.
"Not another daughter one," Elrond said exasperatedly. Galabríawenúthien smiled at Leggy, who returned her gaze with so much love that Glorfindel began to shift his chair sideways lest he be caught in the beam of affection.
"And dearest Leggy was kind enough to save me from a band of vicious orcs in the Misty Mountains," Galabríawenúthien added. Aragorn relaxed. She wasn't after him.
Leggy gave a sigh of longing. Elrond turned on him in an instant. "It is a time of war, Elves refrain from having children during war, therefore no hanky-panky in my house, mate!" he snarled and then fell heavily against his chair. Her aura was affecting him. Even now he could feel his mind becoming fuzzier and his robe becoming more flouncy and stupid. He was Elrond Half-elven, Guardian of one of the Three and Master of the Last Homely House; he would never use such a term as hanky-panky! He was unsure as to what it even meant! Something to do with handkerchiefs possibly?
Galabríawenúthien stretched out a tender hand to Elrond. "Fear not Ada," she said passionately, "for I am loyal to my beloved Haldir and am Not That Type of Girl!"
Elrond nodded weakly.
"Perhaps we should move on," Gandalf said hastily. "Ring, Frodo!" he said, hoisting the Hobbit up by his braces and shoving him towards the plinth in the centre of the chamber.
This was bad. Gandalf thought about the possible implications she would have upon the story. He was the only one, possibly in the whole of Arda, aware that this was indeed a story. Elrond and Aragorn just knew that these strange creatures occasionally popped up but Gandalf knew that they were the product of young people, somewhere, attempting to drop fresh faces into their world. Occasionally they met some good ones. More often than not, they were like this monstrosity. The first sign was when a script magically festooned itself upon them and if they did not follow the words upon it then they all had a feeling that a lightning bolt would drop out of the sky and smite them where they stood. The second was when the other characters started to change, both emotionally and physically. He started to list what Galabríawenúthien could get up to.
Thinks it's Elrond's daughter, probably a tenth walker, will seek solace in Leggy's arms after Boromir is a sexist pig to her therefore enraging her haughty but beautiful lover Haldir when they pass through Lórien, will sob over Haldir's body after Helm's Deep and refuse to have anything to do with Leggy until a few days later when she is all over him again, he thought. Oh, and she will probably kill the Balrog, Saruman and the Witch-King and then jog quickly into Mordor to throw the Ring into Mount Doom for Frodo. It's a bad one alright- oh by the Valar, it's even got Elrond!
In the past few minutes, Elrond's expression had become decidedly more serene, as if he had smoked an entire barrel of pipe-weed. His circlet had inexplicably turned into a massive crown and his robe was no longer a fine but simple garment but a great river of material that would swamp even the fattest of dwarves or hobbits.
"The Ring must by destroyed in the fiery pit from whence it came and there is only one amongst us worthy to carry it," he said in a mystical voice of a pitch usually reserved for young boys or eunuchs. "My daughter, Galabríawenúthien."
As the elleth clasped her hands to her mouth, a small modest blush blossoming across her high cheekbones, and Leggy cheered his approval, both Boromir and Gandalf expressed their displeasure.
"You would entrust this precious thing to a female? Nay, they are weak and ditzy creatures! Give this perilous quest to a Man!" Boromir said pompously. Gandalf's remark was a lot shorter.
"Oh, fuck no!"
"Language, Mithrandir, my delicate ears can only take so much," Galabríawenúthien simpered. Gandalf repressed the urge to give the elleth an almighty thwack around the head with his staff. Instead he turned to Frodo with an desperate smile on his face.
"Frodo! Do you have any urge to carry the Ring? Any little whim?"
"Oh, no!" Frodo said, blinking his blue eyes with shock. "Lady Galabríawenúthien shall do a much better job than me!"
"It shall be a heavy burden indeed, but I shall try my very hardest!" Galabríawenúthien said and stood to collect the Ring.
"No!" Gandalf shouted, springing to his feet. Silence fell in the chamber. "It's just, it would be a terrible shame if one so fair and wise as the Lady Galabríawenúthien fell under the sway of the Ring's power," he said carefully. Actually he wanted her to do anything but get her perfectly manicured mitts on it.
"I can handle it, you stupid old man!" she shrieked, stamping a high heel-clad foot. Luckily Elrond was shaking his head.
"Trust Mithrandir, my little star," he said soothingly in his strange new voice. "I have already lost your Nana, I am losing your sister to that Ranger but I can't lose you."
"Yes, I wish I could have known her. It was so sad that she passed away bringing me into this world," Galabríawenúthien said, her urple eyes filling with tears.
Gandalf could have sworn he heard Celebrían's scream of outrage from the Undying Lands even here.
"I'll do it!" Frodo said, leaping up. "I'm expendable!"
"My dear Hobbit, you are anything but expendable," Gandalf started to say but Elrond was nodding enthusiastically.
"Yes, yes, you can take it!" he said cheerfully and then waved a hand at Gandalf. "Mithrandir, be a dear and make sure he doesn't do anything wrong. Go through Moria, befriend Gollum, get captured by Shelob. All that jazz."
"I'm coming too! I can protect him!" Aragorn said, exchanging a look with Gandalf. Thankfully, Galabríawenúthien's powers had not affected him yet.
"I'm coming too," Boromir growled, attempting to free himself from his chair. Gimli stood up and crossed to the small group, leaving a trail of food from his beard behind him.
"Mmm mmmin ooh," he said and brandished an axe.
"I'm coming too! I, of course, shall do anything to overthrow Sauron!" Galabríawenúthien declared. Gandalf rolled his eyes. Great, any chance of returning to normality had, for now, been lost.
"I'm coming too!" Leggy said, springing daintily to his feet. He looked shyly at Galabríawenúthien who gave him a wide beam of a smile back.
"Excellent!" Elrond said, looking round at them. "We just need a cook and a couple of comic reliefs we're sorted!"
There was a loud wheezing noise and what was left of poor Samwise Gamgee staggered in. He was immensely fat, even for a hobbit, with a great ruddy face that was an interesting purple colour presently. He held up a finger but had to bend over, sucking in great lungfuls of air. It was pitiful to watch for Gandalf, who genuinely liked the real Sam. The young hobbit was so loyal to Frodo, it was touching. And let's face it; at the end Frodo got the glory, Sam got the girl.
"I'm... in..." Sam eventually gasped and waddled over to join them.
"As are we!" Merry called, turning cartwheels down a set of stairs with Pippin. Gandalf stared at them. The end of their noses were swollen and coloured red.
"Are your noses alright?" Aragorn asked, staring at them in horror.
"What are you talking about?" Pippin said. "Our noses look like they always do." He looked at Merry and they simultaneously burst out laughing.
"And we have a cook and two comic reliefs!" Elrond said happily getting to his feet. He gazed at them, smiling serenely. "Ten," he said. "Good number."
No, nine is better, Gandalf thought furiously, trying to project his thoughts at Elrond in case Galabríawenúthien had somehow given him telepathic powers. Nine Walkers for the Nine Nazgul.
Elrond's telepathy failed to manifest itself.
"Ten Walkers! Nine for the Nazgul and our own Mithrandir, a Maia to stand against Sauron! You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring!" he announced.
As Leggy and Galabríawenúthien cheered and clung to each other in a show of not-quite-platonic companionship and orchestral music swelled inexplicably from some unknown orifice, the Grey Pilgrim, Olórin, Mithrandir, Gandalf, for he had many names, had only one thing to say on the matter.
*Ducks fuselage of pointy objects being thrown* Yes, yes! I know! I don't really think that Frodo is expendable or Boromir is a sexist pig. I mean look at Sam in this! Sam is one of my favourite characters! Why would I want to seriously do this to him? *Hugs real Sam tightly*
Wilver and Urple belong to the HFA and OFUM respectively.
I'm leaving it open as a WIP in case people like it and I can be bothered writing another chapter with Galabríawenúthien. Cookies to those who can work out who her name is derived from.
"Not that difficult, it's pretty obvious if you ask me."
Shut up Sam.