Author’s Note:  I am forever grateful to J.R.R. Tolkien for creating Middle-earth and the characters seen here.  I am also grateful to New Line Cinema, Peter Jackson, and all the cast and crew that have created a new way to fall in love with Tolkien’s world.  Alas, however, the Lord of the Rings movies have paved the way for an ancient evil to infiltrate Middle-earth.  Mary Sues have descended in droves upon Tolkien’s characters, whipped to a feeding frenzy by the abundance of handsome heroes in Jackson’s films and one Elf in particular.  Many people have come up with creative and clever ways of dealing with this threat.  I humbly offer this sketch as a new twist on an old theme.

Oh No, Not Again

by Lamiel

The Fellowship is sitting in a small clearing of a forest, waiting.  Gandalf smokes his pipe.  Merry and Pippin munch apples.  Aragorn sharpens his sword, while Boromir turns the horn of Gondor in his hands.  Frodo absently fingers something in his pocket.  Sam watches him anxiously.  Gimli paces up and down, hefting his axe and grumbling.  Suddenly, a shrill cry pierces the stillness, and there is the sound of whistling arrows, followed by several dull thuds.

Legolas comes running into the clearing.  His bow is in his hand, but only a few arrows remain in his quiver.  His tunic is ripped, and there is a red smudge on his cheek.

Legolas:  Come quickly!  We must not linger here!

Gimli:  Oh, are you quite finished then?  I’m sure we don’t mind waiting longer, if you’ve got another long lost love waiting for you.

Legolas pointedly ignores him and pulls a cloth from his pocket.  It was once white, but now sports many red stains.  He wipes his cheek clean, then puts the cloth away.

Legolas: (wearily)  Five at once.  I would gladly face orcs, goblins, Nazgul, even the accursed Balrog of Morgoth, than this new evil.

Gandalf:  You know not of what you speak!  This is but a minor inconvenience, not to be ranked with the horrors of the ancient world.

Legolas:  You have not faced them!  Always they leave you in peace, Mithrandir.  In truth I now look forward to Moria — perhaps there we can lose them in the darkness.

Aragorn stands and sheaths his sword.  He crosses over to Legolas and claps a hand on his shoulder.

Aragorn:  We may hope so, my friend.

Legolas: (bitter)  And if not, you might help out a bit more, Elessar.

Aragorn:  Me?!  I had four last week!

Legolas:  While I had eighty-three.  I’ll have no strength left for the Black Pit at this rate — and no arrows, either.

Gimli:  Hmph.  Oh yes, life is so hard for the perfect Elf and the would-be king.  And what of the rest of us, eh?  Must we always sit and wait while you sort out your admirers?  This Quest is taking ten times longer than it should, thanks to you two.

Pippin:  Oh, I don’t know.  Legolas is getting really good at breaking out of the spells, you know.  We clocked him at four minutes, this last time.

Merry:  Yeah, much better than Frodo.  We had to drag him away from that Shire lass yesterday, what’s her name.

Frodo blushes furiously.

Gimli:  Well, Frodo and Aragorn aren’t really the problem.  I knew we shouldn’t have brought the Elf.  Pretty-boy’ll bring nothing but trouble, I said.  But did anyone listen to me?  Nooo.  “Representatives of all races of Middle-earth,” my foot.

Legolas starts to turn on him angrily, but at that moment a soft light suffuses the clearing.  It seems to have no source, but a diffuse pink glow washes over them all and begins to grow in intensity.  The Fellowship is on their feet, looking around warily.  Legolas stares at Aragorn, who still has a hand on his shoulder.  Aragorn immediately drops his hand and they look at each other for a long beat.

Aragorn:  I am not strangely attracted to you.

Legolas:  Nor am I.

Immediately they whip around to look at the others.  Legolas stares intently at Gimli, while Aragorn looks at Frodo, then Boromir, Sam, Merry, Pippin, and (a bit frantically) Gandalf.

Aragorn:  This isn’t a slash.

Everyone slumps in relief.  The light grows to a blinding intensity and concentrates in one spot, a long oval portal in the center of the clearing.  A figure is outlined against the light, coming toward them. 

Gimli:  Let’s get this over with.

The figure resolves into a girl, perhaps seventeen years old.  As the light fades away she is revealed to be tall, with long silver hair.  She is wearing a flowing dress that brings out the blue of her eyes.

Aragorn groans.  Legolas looks ready to sprint.

Gimli: (mutters)  Typical.  Too tall, no muscle, no beard . . . another one after the Elf.  No sense at all.

Legolas clearly thinks the same, for he tries to duck and hide behind Aragorn.

Mary Sue:  Oh, where am I?  I was just—

Aragorn:  Yeah, we know.  You were just reading a book, or “watching a movie” and suddenly here you are, and now you just need to have Legolas fall in love with you.  (Sighs).  We’re on a Quest here.  We don’t have time for this.  (Caving to the inevitable).  Oh, fine.  You’ve got ten minutes, got that?  (Steps to the side, revealing Legolas).  To Legolas:  She can’t do too much damage in ten minutes.

Legolas:  Wait!  No!  (He looks at Mary Sue, then in desperation points wildly at Aragorn).  You don’t want me!  I’m not even your species!  You want him!  He’s human!  He’s a king!

Aragorn:  I’m also engaged!  And you’re a prince!

Legolas:  That doesn’t mean much when one’s father is immortal.

Aragorn:  Take the Elf.  He’s graceful, he’s immortal, he’s poetic!

Legolas:  But Aragorn is rugged and manly!  He’s a dúnedan!  A gifted tracker and woodsman, bearing a great destiny!  And he’s really good with a sword!

Aragorn:  Lots of people are good with swords!  Boromir’s great at it!  But Legolas is skilled with knives and a great archer!  He has mystical fighting skills undreamt of by mortals!

Legolas:  But, but . . . Aragorn has brooding charisma!

Aragorn:  Legolas can walk on snow!  He sleeps with his eyes open!  He has incredible powers of sight and hearing!  (On a roll now)  He has Elvish senses beyond those understood by mortals!  He’s telepathic!  And he’s the only member of the Fellowship that doesn’t smell bad!

Pippin:  He’s telepathic?  Really?

Frodo:  I think there’s some dispute about that, actually.

Mary Sue:  Quiet, all of you.  I’m sure Aragorn and Legolas are both wonderful.  But I’m not interested in either of them!

Legolas:  You’re not?

Mary Sue:  No!  Really, Aragorn’s great, I’m sure.  Really . . . rugged.  And the brooding destiny thing is fine.  But, I mean, when was the last time you washed your hair?

Aragorn:  Yes, that’s right!  You want the Elf!  He’s clean!

Legolas:  I haven’t had a bath since Rivendell, same as you!  It isn’t my fault!  I tried to get dirty, after that half-fairy showed up, Lingolien or whatever her name was.  Remember?  But the dirt just doesn’t stick.

Mary Sue:  Yeah, right.  You use moisturizing conditioner, or what?

Legolas:  No!  Why does everyone keep asking me that?  I’m an Elf!  It’s just the way we are!

Mary Sue:  Anyway, you’re gorgeous, yeah.  And the mystical fighting skills are great, I’m sure.  But I want someone with natural hair color, you know?

Legolas:  What?  But this is my --

Aragorn:  Quiet.  We might be getting out of this.

Mary Sue: (not listening)  Someone more down to earth, approachable . . .

Sam:  Oh no you don’t!  Mr. Frodo has enough to cope with, with the Ring and all.  You’re not coming near him!

Mary Sue:  Oh, no, silly.  Frodo’s cute, and just look at those eyes!  But he’s a little too small for me, isn’t he?  Only three foot six, and all.  Besides, I like my men with hair on the face, not the feet.

Boromir perks up.

Boromir: (hopefully)  Then perhaps . . .

Mary Sue: (to Boromir)  Ah, yes . . . um, I’m really, really sorry, you know.

Boromir:  Again with the pity!  Why do they always feel sorry for me?  I’m a prince too, you know.  Or the son of the Steward of Gondor, anyway.  And my father’s mortal. 

Mary Sue:  Oh, yeah, you’re great.  Love the whole Horn of Gondor bit.  But, um . . . I guess I’m looking for more hair.

Pippin:  What does she mean?  Not . . . not Gandalf?!

Merry:  Well, he is awful powerful.  And he’s got great fireworks, and a really cool staff.

Gandalf:  What?  Me?

Mary Sue:  Oh, gosh no!  I mean, power’s great, but it should be more down to earth, you know?  More . . . physical.

Gimli:  Enough of this!  Say what you mean, girl, and be done with it!

Mary Sue:  Oh, Gimli!  So strong, so direct!  (Moves toward him).

Gimli: (gripping his axe)  I thought this wasn’t slash!  I will not be put with the Elf again!  I refuse!

Legolas, who had been starting to relax, backs away into the trees and begins gathering spent arrows.

Mary Sue:  You don’t like Elves?

Gimli:  No!  Nancing pansies, always singing and writing poetry.  Don’t have enough sense to get under ground at night.

Mary Sue: (tearing up)  But is there no hope for us then?

Gimli:  No!  I . . . what?

Mary Sue:  Me, a mortal princess raised by Elves, rebelling against the customs of my adopted people, inexplicably drawn to the direct strength of Gimli son of Glóin, child of my people’s most bitter foe!  Can our love overcome the barriers between us?

Gimli:  Huh?

Mary Sue:  Tell me that there is some hope!  (Kneels, reaches up to stroke Gimli’s beard).  Can you not open your heart for me, son of Aulë?

The Fellowship is watching with their mouths open.  The hobbits are speechless.  Gandalf’s pipe has gone out, but he hasn’t noticed.  Aragorn is grinning widely.  Legolas comes back, walking in the branches of the trees overhead, his quiver full of arrows again.

Gimli has gone bright red.  He takes Mary Sue’s hand and pulls her away from his beard, but she grips him tightly and he’s left holding her hands.

Gimli:  This is not the place for such declarations, lady!  Such things are best said underground, by the glimmer of jewels in the torchlight.  Yet . . . truly you are the first of your kind we have encountered that has taste.  Perhaps, well . . . 

There is a distinct snicker from above and he glares up into the branches overhead, where Legolas is standing with his arms folded, his bow held casually in one hand.

Mary Sue:  Then there is hope!  Oh, let me come with you!  I’m strong, and beautiful, and also a good warrior!  I can guard your back in battles, and sharpen your axe at night!

She leans toward him, drawing his hands to her bosom.  Gimli flushes purple, and his eyes glaze over.

Gandalf:  No!  Enough of this spell!  There are nine walkers on this Quest, and no more!

Sam:  And there’s Bill, too.  (Gives Bill the pony a pat).

Gandalf:  (Sighs)  Fine.  Nine walkers plus Bill.  But that’s it!

Gimli: (coming back to himself)  I . . . oh, uh, no.  The long road is no place for a lady of your quality.  The great halls of my home are a better resting place for you.

Mary Sue: (glares at Gandalf)  Very well.  I will wait.  I will go to the mines of the Lonely Mountain, and I will learn smelting!  I will craft great jewels, and await you, my love!

She stands and takes Gimli by the ears, then kisses him, long and hard.  There is a great flash of light, and she vanishes.  Gimli is left gasping for air, and he staggers.

Aragorn:  Why aren’t any of the others that easy to get rid of?  (He looks up at Legolas, who is still in the tree.)  I think you can come down now, mellon nin.  It looks safe.

Legolas looks around warily before jumping lightly to the ground.  He takes the cloth from his pocket and hands it to Gimli, who has gotten his breath back.  Gimli wipes at his mouth ruefully.

Aragorn:  Well, if that’s all for now, we must move on.  We can make good time before dark.

Legolas:  Indeed, if we are not held up by any more of Gimli’s admirers.

Aragorn: (grins, motions to Gimli)  After you, son of Aulë.  And don’t feel bad if you must stop for other lovers along the way.  We’ll wait.

Gimli sputters.  The Fellowship packs up their gear, and moves on.