Ilarian’s Note: SHEEEE's BACK! Anyway...
Time to get back on the job... *cracks whip across own back* I think that the horrid, horrid “Two Daughters” took off a bit of my enthusiasm for the job after I realized how dangerous it is... but necessary. VERY necessary. Well, the long and short of it is, I’m back to deal with yet another badfic. For those with sordid interests:
Agent Ilarian, by her own admission, had been rather lazy lately. There was no real reason for this, except that, for some odd reason, she – horrors – hadn’t felt any ambition to go after Sues lately. This could be due to the fact that she had nearly died in the horrid reams of canon-wrecking trash called “Two Daughters.” Perhaps it was fortunate that she was even still around at all.
So here she was, doing something halfway normal. Instead of peering at a computer screen and shaking as she saw how badly the latest ‘Suethor had mucked up canon, she was attempting to hang out and chill.
That, as you might imagine, didn’t last very long.
The small monitor attached to her wrist began to scream. Ilarian dared a quick look down, just as quickly yanked her head back, and muttered, “If this is as bad as 'Two Daughters,' I honestly don’t know what I’ll do. Maybe I’ll just –”
BEEEE-getovertoHeadquartersNOWyoulazygit-EEEEEEEEP! The portable monitor clearly had no intention of letting her forget about this one.
“Okay, okay,” Ilarian sighed, resigned. She grabbed her book bag and iPod, and snatched her gel pens as they tried to seize their chance and escape. That finished, she caught the first bus that came along, leapt out about ten blocks later, and pounded up the steps to the doors of PPC Headquarters.
The receptionist looked up as Ilarian charged in. “Hello, welcome to Protectors of the Plot Continuum, please check in –”
“I’m Ilarian, and I’m in a hurry,” said Ilarian, but she skidded to a stop and dashed off a garbled black line on the sign-in sheet. “Okay, I need to go –”
The receptionist raised one eyebrow. “Strange to see you back.”
“I know, I know, I was a slacker,” said Ilarian, then jumped about a foot in the air as her monitor screeched again. “Sorry, really must go –” And off she went, running up the stairs twice at a time and arriving rather abruptly in her room.
She scanned the job description. Although bad (yup, another Legolas/Sue) it would be manageable, and better, short. (“Two Daughters” had sort of put her off long assignments... okay, she’ll get off that now.)
Ilarian collected a fairly standard Elven disguise and grabbed her CAD and new Sue-killing weapon – a longbow, after she decided that a silver pistol, however much she liked it, was un-canonical. She was fairly good with it, as she had been practicing while she was ‘off.’ (Read: She could get within a foot or two of something provided it wasn’t moving.)
She punched the button on the wall which marked her as an Agent on duty, then entered a code. The portal yawned wide, and the blue light came shooting up. And in a second, the no-longer-erstwhile Agent was off.
Before she even entered the fic, she had the misfortune to collide with an Author’s Note.
This is based on the movies btw, not the books, even though I have tried to read them before (they are just so long and boring for me) so plz be gentle b/c this is my first fanfic.
“You haven’t even read the BOOKS?” Ilarian was incredulous, and rather horrified. “HOW CAN YOU WRITE LOTR FANFICTION IF YOU HAVEN’T –”
Realizing that Mary-Sue Caps-Lock Syndrome was taking hold of her, she shuddered and continued, “– read them?”
The Note was interrupted by some shrill screaming like a Nazgûl, which made Ilarian duck and clap her hands over her ears. She looked around to see two formless figures floating in the air, bearing the labels “Me” and “Legolas.” Apparently the ‘Suethor fancied holding a conversation between herself and a no-doubt OOC Legolas in her note. It was even worse than usual.
Fortunately, that was all she had to suffer through. Ilarian rocketed out of the Author’s Note and onwards.
She landed somewhere called ‘Prologe.’ However, there was nothing there, not even badly-spelled and misrepresented landscapes. Nothing except a white room – and some vaguely disturbing howling.
Prologe: Even in my heart I see
You're not bein' true to me
Deep within my soul I feel
Nothing's like it used to be
Sometimes I wish I could
Turn back time
Impossible as it may seem
But I wish I could so bad baby Quit playin' games with my heart
Quit playin' games with my heart.... - The Backstreet Boys’s song “Quit Playing Games with My Heart”
“Oh NO,” Ilarian muttered. “Okay, using 20th century rock songs in Middle-earth, incorrect punctuation of said band’s name – and why is it even called ‘Prologe’ anyway? Hold it –”
Rather abruptly, she was launched out of the white room and straight into some unidentified wood. She did a sort of somersault (“...erp?”) then dodged to one side just in time to avoid being trampled.
A group of fifty elves rode through the woods. At the head was a elf with a head of spun golden and eyes as deep as the sea and he sat proudly on his copper stallion as if he were afraid of nothing.
“Uh... ‘scuse me... Arod’s WHITE?” said Ilarian, hidden behind a bush. “Okay... gave canonical horse a bad dye job...”
It was Prince Legolas Greenlead and his most loyal knights. They had traveled for many days and many nights seeking a strange land that had previously been heard of only in legend until a Mirkwood scout who had been attacked by orcs had wandered far off his course and found himself in the mystical Ladenshail.
“OUCH!” Ilarian hissed as something burned her hand. Looking around, she discovered that the ‘Suethor’s bad spelling had spawned a mini. The Balrog – who she assumed was Greenlead – blinked at her.
“Aw, it’s so cute...” said Ilarian, who had heard of minis but never seen one before. “I’d pet you – but – you’re sort of on fire. And I need to catch Legolas and his so-called ‘knights...’ So, bye!”
Leaving the rather confused mini behind, Ilarian crept off through the bushes. Legolas and one of the ‘knights’ were having a bit of a spat about the so-called city of Ladenshail. Legolas said it didn’t exist. One of his ‘knights’ insisted.
“Oh, alright.” With a growl, Legolas kicked his horse onward. As he moved, one of his knights spoke to him mischievously. “Maybe at this new place you can find a new lover to replace old Selindel!”
Legolas rolled his deep blue eyes but grinned. “Do not make fun of Selindel, Pliarion, we just weren’t meant to be, that’s all. My father was pressuring me to marry and she seemed as good of a choice as any maiden but we soon discovered that the love just wasn’t there.”
“I hate ‘alright,’” Ilarian grumbled. “It ... oh great, poor Legolas had a girlfriend he didn’t want to marry but mean ol’ Thranduil was pressuring him... AGH! How many times, ‘Suethors? How many times! ELVES DON’T DO THAT! And what’s with all the fake names?”
She scribbled all of this down as she kicked through the woods after them, longbow on her back, muttering about the inconveniences of getting through thick underbrush in a dress. An Elven dress, no less, with all its light, gauzy material.
The knight Pliarion shared a skeptikal look with the others. “But didn’t you say you were in love with her at first site, my lord?”
“Ooh, Legolas is into Internet dating,” Ilarian muttered.
Legolas and the ‘knights’ were still riding through nowhere, in a nameless wood, toward a city that did not exist. Ilarian was reminded forcibly of her first assignment – ‘Roveaden’ and ‘Havovail’ and whatever the heck the Sue had had. It seemed that the same was happening again. She’d gotten transported into a Sueified version of Middle-earth.
His horse pulled to halt, the prince turned and glared at the inferior. “If I did say so then I take it back. There is never love at first site, let me tell you!” His head of long hair had blown in his face, and he pushed it back angrily. “Besdies, I can’t find a new love at Landenshail because there IS NO LANDENSHAIL!”
Matias just grinned. “Then what do you call THAT?” he asked, pointing towards a great wall before them that had appeared out of no where.
“The inferior?” said Ilarian, from where she had hidden behind a tree. “How can Legolas’s head blow in his face – isn’t that something from a horror movie? And making non-canonical cities appear out of nowhere – I’m going to kill her now.”
Unfortunately, the main Sue of the story hadn’t even appeared yet. However, that was about to change. Ilarian braced herself and then off she went, sucked straight through the wall of Landenshail.
She landed in a tower. The culprit for this mess was gazing with moony eyes out the window.
In the highest tower of Landenshail, an elfin maiden sat looking out the window at a bright new day when her maidservant came rushing in. “Milady, milady! Your father is coming!” The she-elf turned her head and just nodded gently at the distressed woman.
“Elfin?” Ilarian muttered, quickly hiding beneath the Sue’s bed, which stunk of cheap rose perfume and Celine Dion songs. This being a Sue bedchamber, everything was immaculately clean, shiny, beautiful, etc., and usually sang sweet songs even when it wasn’t supposed to.
Then she noticed the other glaring sin, and choked. “She-elf? I’m never going to forgive PJ for putting that line in the movie...for HEAVEN’S SAKE, female elves are NOT she-elves! You don’t call Legolas a ‘he-elf,’ do you?”
“Aymerwen! Where are thee?” called a familiar voice.
(A/N: Aymerwen means “Shinning One” in Umair, the language of Landenshail
This was presently followed by the re-emergence of the two cloudy figures yelling at each other in 21st century language, including a reference to an English class, which the author had obviously never taken. Ilarian stuffed her fingers into her ears while the shrieking continued, and peered out cautiously when it subsided. Then it was time to add to the Sue’s enormous charge list.
“Ludicrous name in an invented language of an invented place,” Ilarian muttered, pushing the bed skirt aside so she could have a bit of light for writing. “Dead. Dead. Dead. And... where are thee?”
“Right here in my room, Papa!” she answered.
“Well, don’t move because I am coming up!”
The maiden remained seated, staring out the window. She watched curiously as outside of the gate a group of fifty elves rode up, spoke with the sentry, and were grudgingly allowed inside. “PAPA!” she cried. “Look outside! Strangers approach!”
“Yes, we just go about allowing random people into imaginary cities,” Ilarian grumbled, watching the Sue and her Marty-Sam/idiotic father, whose name was apparently King Folset. She had thought that was him sneezing.
Alarmed, Aymerwen cried, “But father! How shall we explain our friendship with the Sauron here? They will surely attack us!” And her hands hid her face.
“No, don’t worry,” her father quieted her. “We just won’t tell them anything. And if they do ask, we’ll kill them. Don’t worry, little Shiner!”
It was right about here that Ilarian started to develop hints of froth at her mouth for the first time in the fic. The rest of it had been pure ghastly Legomance – horrible but fairly routine. This was starting to make her go a bit wonky.
“Elves. Hate. Sauron!” Ilarian snarled. “They do not have a friendship with ‘the Sauron’ at any time, whatever!”
Her father saw her nervousniss and suddenly remembered why he came in the first place. He put his hand on her shoulder. “I came to tell you that I have finally picked between the two remaining suitors for your hand!”
“What was their final task that made you decide, my lord?”
“They each had to steal the flying dragon of a Ring Wrath from Mordor; only one succeeded.” The king grinned proudly. “You wish to know which one? I’ll tell you then. Lord Haldir of Lorien won the challenge over Prince Dalin from the Mountains. What say you to that?”
Ilarian pounded her fists on the floor, making the ‘Sue and the murderous-Sam look around curiously. She rolled about gagging. Fortunately the Sue had no real interest in finding the thing that was expiring beneath her bed.
“Steal...flying dragon...Ring Wrath...more bloody....arranged marriages....” were the words that struggled from Ilarian’s slack mouth. She struggled for her notepad and wrote something down that may or may not have been the charges.
Aymerwen shrugged and stood up. “Help me pick out a dress, Olima,” she requested her maid. “I need to look nice for our guests.”
Olima took one look at her and smiled. “I know just the one, milady.” And she disappeared into the large closet which had all the princess’ clothes.
Sighing sadly, Aymerwen inquired, “Olima? Why is it that princessess must always have their husband chosen for them?”
The woman answered, her voice muffled from the closet, “Because you must marry the right person, milady! It is a political match!”
“THERE ARE NO – ” Ilarian stopped. The Caps-lock Syndrome had affected her more than she knew. There was probably a pill for that back at Headquarters. She took a deep breath. “Arranged marriages. For the bloody last time.”
“Well, that is certainly good news! Ah! I think I’ve almost found one!” The midwife pulled out a long green dress made of silky silk. The sleeves hung down past her hands, and her midriff was exposed alluringly while still keeping her modest. Golden threats were woven in and out of the seams and small vine patterns twisted around the hem.
“Why is the maid suddenly a midwife?” Ilarian enquired of the floor. The longer she hid underneath the bed, the longer she couldn’t get “My Heart Will Go On,” out of her head.
“Silky silk, contradictory dress, and for heaven’s sake, you don’t go around with bare midriffs in Middle-earth!” Ilarian snorted, scribbling a bit more.
The Sue and the maid (or possibly midwife) left the chamber. Ilarian crept after them, making sure that King Murderous Sneeze didn’t see her. Then she turned a corridor to discover that Legolas and his poor unsuspecting ‘knights’ had been brought into the castle.
Meanwhiles Legolas and his men had been invited into the golden palace. None of them had ever seen anything so beautiful. But they were soon to see something even better... and no, it’s not Aymerwen! ^______^ Or is it?? you’ll have 2 see!
Ilarian spun around, popped up, slid, and popped up again, due to the ‘Suethor’s random symbols in the Words. When she recovered, she was smacked in the middle of more shrieking between the cloudy characters “Me” and “Legolas.” Ilarian stuffed her dress into her ears and gritted her teeth.
When that got done, she was somehow back with King Murderous Sneeze, who was talking about... something.
King Folset was almost pleased to see his visitors when he learned who they were. “Prince Legolas Greenleaf from Mirkwood, what a surprise to see you! What brings you here?”
Blue eyes wide, the prince whispered, “I—I thought Landenshail didn’t exist. One of my servants found it one day and we went looking for it to prove that he wasn’t crazy or else my father would have executed for sleeping on his post! Forgive me if I disturbed you!”
“Disturbed me? Of course not, milad! Elfish visitors are always welcomed here! Now please join me for dinner. You must be hungry.”
Ilarian frothed. And frothed. And frothed a bit more. The reference to Evil!Murderous!Thranduil just about did her in right there. After several minutes of this, she whispered hoarsely, “Who’s milad? It sounds as if King Murderous Sneeze just remembered that he’s a man...ELFISH? ELFISH! AAAGH!”
As Legolas and Murderous Sneeze trotted off, Ilarian followed them on all fours. This Legomance was even worse than most, and that was saying a lot.
Meanwhile the king lead Legolas up a set of stairs. “How is your kingdom, prince? Still as beautiful as always?”
“It would be for not the many orc attacks on our borders,” Legolas said sadly.
“Elves. Not evil. But I’m forgetting. It’s a ‘Sam. Two to. Do away with.” Ilarian scuttled into the dining hall, scared another servant (they got scared far too easily) and hid underneath the table.
“I’m sorry I’m late, father!!” a voice suddenly cried out from the nearby doorway. Legolas looked up in surprise and saw the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on in his entire life. If he were brash enough he would claim that she was even more exquisite than Rivendell’s Princess Arwen and Queen Galadriel of Lothlorien.
“GAAAGH!” the roast boar cried, or at least it sounded like it. The real culprit was Ilarian, lying on her back and convulsing occasionally. “Arwen. Not a princess....and of course, of all the stupid, stupid, clichéd, ridiculous, worn-out, dried-up, ludicrous Sue-crap...”
Her ranting and raving went on in this manner for some time. Meanwhile, the Words trotted out a nauseatingly bad description of the Sue’s beauty.
King Murderous Sneeze, meanwhile, was sly, and made sure not to talk about his friendship with the Sauron. Ilarian lay underneath the table gasping. This was too uneasily reminiscent of hiding underneath another table in an even worse fic.
The Mirkwood prince gave the answers the king sought but his out of the corner of his eye he watched Aymerwen as she took up her silverware and cut into a fruit.
The princess felt his gaze and was flushed. She knew he was watching her and wished she had chosen a less reveiling outfit for the evening. “Why must these foolish men always be attracted to me? I am not THAT good looking,” she mused.
“Why you...” Ilarian growled. “Of course, the Sue thinks that she’s not that beautiful...while everyone else is falling dead?”
She suddenly remembered her CAD, and aimed it at the nearest pair of ‘elfish’ legs that most likely belonged to Legolas.
[Legolas. Prince of Mirkwood. Canon – always abused. OOC 99.9922% - WARNING! COMPLETE CHARACTER DEGRADATION! CANON SUCKED DOWN A BLACK HOLE AND EATEN BY SEA MONSTERS...]
Ilarian raised her eyebrows. The CAD was getting unusually eloquent.
The king made sure the Sue wouldn’t say that Sauron had given her a horse. So the Sue and Legolas talked about horses.
“Of course I do!” The prince puts in eagerly. “I have a horse to. His name is Halad, and he is a copper color with white mane, a most rare find.”
“The name, you idiotic Character Degradation, is Arod, and he’s WHITE –”
“No matter how rare he is in color, I doubt he could beat my Harmonion!” laughed Aymerwen as she sipped out of her wine glass. She was no longer worried about Legolas’s brash staring for something about him made her feel comfortable to be near.
“Perhaps we shall see.” Legolas also drank out of his glass, his eyes twinkling at her.
Aymerwen was about to smile back but then her smile faded. “Oh no,” she though sadly. “I am all set to marry Haldir of Lorien! I cannot give poor Legolas any ideas!” And she turned her eyes away from the prince and maintaned a stoney silence the rest of the evening.
“And how many guesses that the ‘arranged marriage’ will vanish so she can conveniently marry Legolas. Besides, a humble Marchwarden would never marry a princess anyway – no, wait – the WORDS ARE OVER! I can kill them!”
Ilarian exploded from beneath the table, sending all sorts of things flying, including the cranberry sauce. It landed upside down on Aymerwen’s head. She shrieked.
The Sue rubbed the goop out of her perfect eyes, then stared. There was an extremely mad PPC agent in a torn dress standing there, still smelling like the cheap perfume from the bed, and humming “My Heart Will Go On,” greatly against her will.
“What are you doing here?” demanded King Murderous Sneeze. “I will hand you over to the Sauron!”
Ilarian whipped her longbow off her back and pointed an arrow at him. “King – Folset – you are charged with being a Marty-Sam, with being a murderous Marty-Sam, with being a stupid Marty-Sam, with making arranged marriages, and with being a friend to Sauron. You don’t even get any last words.”She shot him. The Marty-Sam collapsed in the peach pie.
“Father!” shrieked the Sue.
Ilarian wheeled on her. “As for you, you are charged with being an atrocious Sue, with inventing names, places, and languages, with replacing Tolkien’s Middle-earth with your own, with making up MORE arranged marriages, with making Legolas fall in love with you instantly, with using 21st century songs and expressions, with mentioning an Evil!Murderous!Thranduil, with getting stupid songs stuck in this Agent’s head, with spawning minis –”
When she finally finished, she said, “I could shoot you, but I won’t. Since you’re such a good friend of Sauron, I think I’ll take you to Mordor and let him – er – greet you.”
She clunked the Sue on the head with a gravy boat so she would be less inclined to argue. Then she slung the unconscious Aymerwen over her shoulder and marched out of the city of Ladenshail. Since it didn’t exist, it immediately disappeared.
Ilarian portaled to the edges of the Ephel Dúath and dropped her burden. The unconscious Sue rolled down the slope, bouncing off assorted spiky rocks, and crashed to the bottom in a heap.
Several Orcs came along, spotted her, and started the fun. Ilarian grinned. Apparently, the Orcs didn’t care much that the girl was a so-called friend of their master.
She waited out of sight on the hilltop until she was sure the Sue was dead, then braced herself as canon started snapping back into place. Ilarian took a deep breath, dusted off her hands, and portaled back to Headquarters.
“There. That’s done. Not bad for my first one in a while...”
Hearing an odd noise, she looked around. Sitting on the bed was the mini Balrog, Greenlead. Her coverlet was smoking, though, so she quickly waved him off.
“He’s so cute... can I keep him?” said Ilarian.(A/N: Whew, feels good to be back. Next I’m taking on Aragorn’s twin sister Atlanta, who joins the Fellowship.... =:) )