The Smiting Ceremony has arrived. Enjoy!
If you participated and have questions about how I characterized you, please tell me. Also, please let me know if there's anything wrong, grammatically, logically, or otherwise, with this segment. I left the italics on for nearly half of the OFUCI visit, and no one informed me.
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The Temple of GreyLadyBast was already laden with PPC-related foodstuffs when Agents Isaiah and Quen arrived. There were assorted mini-beverages, including rhum, bloffee, and coffeine, and mini-foods, such as a great platter of lembass. The tables were piled high with Bleeprin, Bleepsinthe, Bleepesteem, Bleepka, and other derivatives, as well as chocolate.
Quen took attendance over Isaiah’s protests. She merely smiled and pulled up a spare chair by the door. An efficient secretary, she always carried several pens on her person, and only had to dash back to the secretary’s office briefly to steal a few sheets of paper for the occasion. Isaiah softly pressed a VIP ticket to the ceremony into her hand before the guests began entering.
Many agents had come early, enthusiastic about the smiting. First in was Agent Laih, a rather tall, cheerful PPCer who was accompanied by the guest of honor, Starfish of Elves, who had first alerted the agents to the perils of Evelyn. (They had both won a "Guess the Age of the Suethor" contest and had sent in badfics to be PPC'd.) Laih's partner, Agent Mimarhan, seemed to be her antithesis: short, orange-haired, bespectacled, and with her three minis tagging along after her. Glorifindel and Thundrell in particular were a bit rambunctious until Mara and Isaiah showed them the way to the large, steaming strips of bacon. Agents Nenya and Tiranel were next, Agent Nenya having been informed early about the ceremony by Agent Quen. Like Mimarhan, Agent Nenya sported red hair and contrasted strikingly with her comrade-in-arms, a dark Trill/Elf hybrid (no one had yet worked up the courage to ask how that had come about). Agent Tiranel was muttering under her breath about having to get Nenya up, shove her into the bathroom to get changed, and make sure she didn’t come late to the ceremony.
“How many are coming, do you know?” Isaiah asked his partner conversationally.
“Scores, probably,” Mara replied. They speculated whether there would be more
newbies or veteran PPCers showing up for the smiting. Or, as Isaiah suggested, Evelyn-Sue might be an equal-opportunity offender.
“Hello, Twiggy!” Mara greeted the agent, whose full name was too long for most to remember. “One for the newbies,” she said out of the corner of her mouth to Isaiah. It was nice to chat idly without worrying about finding your footing in a fic with no periods or having your favorite character turn into a rapist.
“You look-er-very down-do-earth, very...um...natural,” Isaiah said, trying to find a way to compliment Twiggy on her rather original taste in clothing.
“I hope you do better than that with Quen,” Mara teased. Then she got a full view of Twiggy’s olive-green skirt, yellow sandals, and flowing tan blouse--and shut up.
Twiggy took several deep breaths. “I need to warm up for shouting at Evelyn,” she explained, downing a glass of water and clearing her throat. Standing up as straight as she could, she inhaled and suddenly bellowed, "MAY YOU ROAST ETERNALLY IN THE FREEZING PIT OF THE VOID WITH ONLY MELKOR AND BOMBADIL POETRY FOR COMPANY, O THOU UNCANONICAL MULTIPLE-ELF-BEDDING SUE!"
Over at the mini-Balrog table, several raw eggs burst from the sheer volume of her diatribe.
“Not bad,” Twiggy nodded, “for a first time. When the Sue comes it will be much more forceful, I assure you.”
Mara and Isaiah stared at each other.
“Still got those glopsnerch earmuffs?” Isaiah wondered, wondering when his ears would stop ringing.
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Meanwhile, Recruit Miiro traipsed through a cavernous passage, her confidence only a little shaken as she neared the Halls of Doom. She recalled the passage from the PPC Initiation book regarding acceptance for female members, which she had memorized in the hopes of evading the last-minute jitters. “One time, and one time only shall the Sacred Book of Rites be opened for all to see,” she quoted softly to herself. “If at any time the prospective agent chooses to turn back, she is grabbed by the scruff of the neck and tossed back in.” Happily, she had not needed that treatment yet.
“What now...oh, right! The Dead ‘Sue Sutra.” The recruit knelt down and chanted:
"I will kill the 'Sue.
I will protect Canon.
But only after I have completed the charge list
And charged the 'Sue
Shall I kill her.
Grant me strength,
Mighty Tolkien,
That I may destroy
This abomination of your most holy work."
To prove that she was completely insane, she was required to pass through the Halls of Doom, dragging the Sue with her. These halls were dark and silent, their redundant grey broken only by occasional splotches of urple and wilver, the signs of past struggles with victim ‘Sues. Evelyn seemed to notice the signs, for she began to put up more of a fight than ever. She kicked as best she could, bit, and tried to scream through the gag. Once she even tried to headbutt Miiro-a most fortunate occurrence, for the recruit had been hugging the walls in order to see the fascinating Sue remains. The PPCer dodged to the side just in time and Evelyn’s head cracked against the stone, knocking her out right near a spot where a few shimmering golden hairs were embedded in the stone.
Facing the bored Kender and the gibbering Mouther that the Rite detailed proved a difficult task indeed, particularly since she had no idea what those were. She found out when she reached for her knife to cut off some of Evelyn’s hair as a trophy and found that her weapon was missing.
“Oops,” said a voice from behind her. “I think you dropped this.”
Miiro groaned. She groped for the extra knife hidden in her boot, and found that that was gone, too.
Abruptly, she realized that the Kender wasn’t the only monster near her at that moment.
“AAAAAH!”
Quickly stopping her fingers in her ears, she dropped to her stomach and let Evelyn take the full blast of the mind-numbing gibberish. She raced headlong away from the creatures, wondering if this was the PPC’s way of enforcing the fact that she was insane.
After that, her worst fear was comparatively easy to manage. Though she would not admit it to any PPCer, Galenvagoriel the Absurd Elvish Sue had given her more nightmares than she could remember. Galenvagoriel’s super-Elven agility did not avail her in this encounter, however. Miiro made a pretense of engaging in battle, and the Sue was giggling in triumph when Miiro suddenly asked the Sue the origin of her name. The self-insertion had disappeared in a puff of logic.
“Well,” Miiro ventured in relief, “that wasn’t so bad. Maybe this isn’t so hard after-”
Hey dol! merry dol! ring a dong dillo!
Ring a dong! hop along! fal lal the willow!
Too late, the soon-to-be Agent Miiro realized that she had forgotten the last and most crucial part of the test: Tom Bombadil’s poetry recital.
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
Her shriek was almost loud enough to drown out the singing.
____________________________________________
The arrival of the unconscious and somewhat scramble-brained Evelyn was greeted with boos, hisses, the odd expletive here and there. Miiro calmly took out the rope she had been instructed to carry with her and secure Evelyn to the glitter-stained altar.
Then began the victory parade. Streamers of Sue-hair and outrageous garb from previous victims fluttered to the ground around the PPCers. Old war trophies were paraded about-Sue scalp belts, a sword with a solid gold hilt, even a fiery whip from the one and only blue-eyed Balrog Sue. One agent even took to wearing the blue skin of a unicorn. Agent Daffyd and the rest of the DOGA clan came forward to light a large bonfire.
"She's a Sue! Buuuurrrrnn!" screamed Technetium, her hair in disarray as Evelyn slowly began to regain consciousness. Rufus, a new recruit to the PPC, eagerly tossed a flamethrower into the huge conflagration. “FIRE!” she screamed. In a short time, the Clan of the Cactus had made the final preparations for the ritual.
“Are we ready?” Isaiah asked Mara. She nodded and motioned to the crowd for silence.
“Very good then. Bring forth the Red Book!” cried Isaiah imperiously.
The Lord of the Rings appeared in all of its printed glory. Mara flipped several crisp leaves until she came upon one bookmarked section.
Isaiah, having the better voice for projecting out into a crowd, was chosen to play the part of the announcer. He was impressed by how well his words carried across to the gathered PPCers.
“Members of the Canon Protection Initiative!” he belted out. “We present, in honor of Miiro’s initiation into the PPC, the most character-corrupting Sue I’ve ever seen. Born of an author who read the books, this is a double-dealing monstrosity the likes of which even we have rarely dealt with.”
Gasps rose from several PPC agents. This Sue’s author had read the books? News had reached them of her egregious deeds as far as seducing two Elves and abusing Shadowfax were concerned. But this-that she was a bookie’s Sue-was almost too much. A low rumble of dire threats began to emanate from the densely-packed assembly of agents.
“Mara, would you kindly reiterate the charges for those gathered here?”
“Evelyn Eliza,” Mara began. “You are charged with being a Mary Sue, with falling into Middle Earth through a plothole and-”
Agent Evelyn, a diminutive thirteen-year-old PotC PPCer, bared her teeth. Evelyn-Sue caught her look of loathing and scrunched against the altar.
"YOU BLOODY ELF-CHEATING, NAME-STEALING SLUT!" Evelyn yelled, flinging a spork at her Mary Sue namesake. It tangled itself in Evelyn-Sue’s hair, and in trying to extricate it, she found that her tresses had caught in the uncanonical zipper of her dress.
“--Speaking Westron without any prior knowledge of it, bashing both Arwen and Galadriel, causing Legolas and Elladan to be so out of character that we lost two CADs to PPCing you, especially making them fall in love with you, fight over you, have children with you, and attempt rape on you...”
“Elves don't rape, you stupid git!” TZA interjected.
Then it was Twiggy’s turn to shout at Evelyn. Even the agents who were half-deaf on account of their computer consoles beeping loudly and frequently were forced to cover their ears. When the temple’s pillars had stopped shaking, the female agent continued.
Mara was used to these interrupted readings. She didn’t mind the expletives and various threats coming from every precinct of the temple. If anything, she was gratified to have her hard work appreciated and some of her previous pain acknowledged. She was particularly pleased when Starwind Rohana stood up among the crowd and let loose an invective of considerable creativity.
“You little COW! Don't you know that children are really, really important? YOU were a child once! Be nice and- oh, wait, you don't care for anyone except yourself, you mangled, fleabrained, rotting little rag of an excuse for a dungheap!”
“--Sleeping with both Elladan and Legolas without either one knowing, having bad grammar, separating letters from their words, putting a saddle on Shadowfax, having unnaturally quickly gestating babies, and with having upwards of 77 period-comma substitutions. Also, thanks to TZA for several additional charges.” Mara nodded to a very short redhead wearing glasses, black leather lace-up ankle boots, jeans, and a black t-shirt with 'Reports of Haldir's Death Are Greatly Exaggerated'. “We have added the following: having one of Elrond’s advisors in Mirkwood as your teacher, forcing King Thranduil to be your teacher instead of running the kingdom and saving his sons from Sues like you, and attempting to be immortal, which, fortunately, we were able to prevent.”
Sharp pointy objects were waved liberally in the air as Mara completed the charges. Agent Rowyn, decked out in her very best black trench coat, menaced the Sue for some time, alternating her dagger and cutlass with two colonial pistols in remarkably good condition. At the same time, Agent Ekwy unsheathed a replica of the Sword of Godric Gryffindor, brandished it menacingly at the Sue and uttered something under her breath that sounded remarkably like a Latin-based Harry Potter curse.
From the first-row seats, Quen blinked. The Mary Sue’s nose had turned into a piece of cauliflower.
“Was that supposed to happen?” she whispered to Tiranel, who was sitting to her left.
“I don’t think so,” replied the agent, who had inherited Elven hearing and was almost certain that Ekwy had used the Jelly-Legs curse.
“Who cares?” asked several other PPCers, eyeing the Sue gleefully. Evelyn strained against her bonds.
“Your fate,” finished Mara, “is to be smitten by the Great PPC Goddess and then be blasted to shreds by the same canon that you have mutilated so painfully.”
A short, blue-eyed blonde wearing a lab coat strode forward, muttering under her breath, "What is with all the skanky, two-timing, bitchy, lying, evil 'Sues nowadays?" and shaking her head. Being an expert in electric current, she had been asked to tinker with the receptivity of the altar to lightning strikes. Wearing thick rubber gloves, she fiddled with several small instruments and then checked to make sure that Evelyn’s hair was free. She then walked quickly back to her seat, stopping only to bow reverently to the blackness in the far left corner of the temple.
An awed quiet came over those gathered.
A grey, catlike shape emerged lithely from the shadows. Lo, it was the imposing figure of GreyLadyBast, the resident PPC goddess and smiter of infidels. Fair and terrible she was to look upon, and her eyes gleamed with a feral light.
"TASTE MY SMITE, SPAWN OF MORGOTH!!!" she proclaimed, pinioning the Sue to the altar with her Extra Exclamation Points of Doom. The Sue quivered violently as the feline deity glared icily at her.
The great goddess Bast smote the Sue upon the altar thus: lightning was called down from the sky, and for a moment, the temple blazed bright blue. Then, with great vigor and a slightly deranged grin, Bast zapped the Sue thrice in the posterior, once for each time that Evelyn had misspelled her smiting tool as “lightening.”
In a spectacular display of fanati-er, zeal, Agent Simnal waved her poisoned knife around so frenetically that it flew from her hand and landed between Evelyn’s thumb and forefinger. She began shrieking at Evelyn in what the PPCers thought to be a gift of tongues from the goddess, but which others recognized as bastardized Suvian Elvish. Many wondered if GreyLadyBast would appreciate this interruption, but she merely made a Cheshire grin, which widened, if that was possible, when Simnal exclaimed, "AND IF YOU CARED ABOUT YOUR BABIES AT *ALL*, YOU'D USE YOUR STUPID SUE POWERS AND SORT THEM OUT, YOU HEARTLESS ELF-RAPIST!"
The goddess ended with a forced recitation of the differences between “you're” and “your” and “their,” “there” and “they're,” and how one must NEVER mix them up. And her word was true, and the Sue was silent.
Then, the first of the Readers stepped forward.
Agent Lambda, like Dr. Niamh, entered wearing a newly ironed white lab coat. She was a tall, brown haired PPCer who was one of the only agents who showed up wearing high heels. Lambda promptly slipped a pair of latex gloves out of her pocket and methodically put them on, so as not to damage the Sacred Text of the Silmarillion during the reading. Her evil twin, Hellga, and her mini-Balrog, Carathir, cheered her on from the middle row of seats.
Hellga opened the book reverently and read, “Immortal were the Elves, and their wisdom waxed from age to age, and no sickness nor pestilence brought death to them. Their bodies indeed were the stuff of Earth, and could be destroyed; and in those days they were more like the bodies of Men...But Men were more frail, more easily slain by weapon or mischance, and less easily healed; subject to sickness and many ills; and they grew old and died. Page 119, just so you know. That means that you, Sue, must die. You are one of the race of Men. You may not become immortal, no matter what kind of spawn inhabits your womb.”
Evelyn’s long blonde hair, already standing on end after the lightning strikes, began to undulate and jerk about. Her eyes bulged, and she quivered visibly.
Hellga closed the book with a snap, placed it on a small end table upon which rested the Canon, and nodded to Agent Tamaris Arilie as the latter took her place. She narrowed her eyes in anger, and her normally pale face was tinged red for a moment. She was one of the many agents that commanded fear with her very presence.
“Marriage customs of the Eldar,” she announced, her voice deadly calm, taking out Morgoth’s Ring. “The Eldar wedded once only in life, and for love or at the least by free will upon either party. Furthermore, How then can a marriage be ended and the union be dissolved? By the law of the nature of the Elves, the neri and the nissi being equal, there can be union only of one with one.” You have attempted an impossible union of one with two. And as the Elves only wed of free will, and sex equals marriage in Elven culture, not only can there be no bigamy, but there can be no rape.” Abruptly she yelled, "May the winds of change blow a stench your way and the fires of hell forever light your arse!" The PPCers roared their agreement. With each word, Evelyn’s Sue-beauty was sapped a little. Her skin took on an unhealthy tinge-not greenish, but bright pink. Her eyes swirled purple.
Agent Maly, one of the kinder souls in the PPC, replaced Agent Tamaris. “In sympathy for the agents who had to PPC this thing...I found two passages. Quotation one begins with Beregond remarking on the beauty of Shadowfax. ‘How strong and proud he is! Where is his harness? It should be rich and fair.’
“‘None is rich and fair enough for him,’ said Pippin. ‘He will have none. If he will consent to bear you, bear you he does; and if not, well, no bit, bridle, whip, or thong will tame him.’
“And in the Two Towers, Gandalf says, ‘I do not ride elf-fashion, except on Shadowfax....But Shadowfax will have no harness. You do not ride Shadowfax: he is willing to carry you-or not.’ If an author tells you something twice, you might want to pay attention.”
Evelyn gave an almighty shriek and she began to spin like a top. Bubbles frothed at her mouth and she spouted out roses and diamonds. Maly beamed at the Department of Technical Errors agents, and gave them both quick hugs before returning to her seat.
Agent Tarragon stepped forward next with a determined air, her baggy black pants and shirt ruffled by the many yells coming from the PPCers, who were, by now, livid. She stared pointedly at the audience, which at once calmed down, opened the Red Book to the Appendices, and quoted Elrond’s speech to Aragorn: ‘“But as for Arwen the Fair, Lady of Imladris and of Lorien, Evenstar of her people, she is of lineage greater than yours, and she has lived in the world already so long that to her you are but as a yearling shoot beside a birch of many summers. She is too far above you.’ Idiot Sue. Elrond thought Aragorn, heir of Isildur and valiant warrior, was too young for Arwen at twenty. Elrond would never allow you and Elladan to be together, when you are sixteen and Elladan is nearly three thousand years old!”
The madly spinning Sue began stretching like an overextended swimcap. And as if that simile weren’t bad enough, her fingers went wobbly for a moment and were sucked into her arms like a squid turning inside out. The PPC agents covered their ears as the bad writing was expelled from the plot continuum.
It was Miiro who was to deliver the final strike against the Sue. The DTE agents had consulted with both her and Bast for a long time before reaching a consensus that Miiro should read aloud the confirmation of character slander against a canon character. Miiro herself had opted for the passage when they had asked for her opinion. Now, she stepped determinedly up to the Sue and looked her in the eyes.
“Here follows a description of the Lady Arwen, as Frodo sees her in the House of Elrond. As you have read, Mary Sue, she is a fair and farsighted being, not a petty vixen who insults her relatives. Ahem.”
Miiro held the book so that the Sue could see it, then recited the words that the recruit had learned by rote, emphasizing certain parts here and there:
Young she was and yet not so. The braids of her dark hair were touched by no frost; her white arms and clear face were flawless and smooth, and the light of stars was in her bright eyes, grey as cloudless night; yet queenly she looked, and thought and knowledge were in her glance, as one who has known many things that the years bring.
It was quiet in the chamber. The PPCers held their breath.
Suddenly, Evelyn’s head shlooped into her torso, which swelled. She ballooned out and out and-
BOOM!
“YAY!”
"MAKE UP YOUR FREAKIN' MIND! IF YOU'RE GOING TO DE-CANONNIZE A CHARACTER PLEASE PICK ONE OF THEM AS YOUR BOYFRIEND!"
Perhin Gamgin’s words left her lips just as Evelyn burst into a kaleidoscope of frilled streamers and a fantastic spray of glitter dust. Being a newbie to the PPC, she hadn’t been able to scream at the Sue before now, so loud had been the veterans’ cries of rage and exclamations of protest. There was a collective sigh of relief as a few urple spangles floated to the ground, turning into dust as they touched the temple floor.
There was thunderous applause and several cheers in various languages, including Agent Lambda, who screamed, "Uvanimë uquetima!" so loudly that she lost her voice. The mini-Balrogs went wild, Rohirian and Eraidor in particular, cracking their fiery whips and sending a shower of sparks high into the air, igniting some of the residue of Sue.
Mara stepped forward, coughing on the sickly-sweet Sue aroma and waving away the stinging sparkles. She took the initiate’s arm and led her forward. “Members of the PPC...I give you Agent Miiro!”
Miiro looked slightly flustered, but bowed in thanks to crowd. The Pirates of the Caribbean PPCers lead the cheering with three “Huzzah”s, and those from the Lord of the Rings continuum began a chant:
“Long live Agent Miiro! Praise her with great praise!”
Isaiah came up, sidestepping Dr. Niamh, who was catching the remainder of the sparkles in a test tube to analyze, since two-timing Sues were surprisingly rare. The coils of blond hair were still twisting on the charged breeze. The agents held their breath so as not to be exposed to the vile miasma. One or two agents weren’t careful enough, and after sneezing twice ended up with ruby red lips and gold flecks on their cheeks. The PPCers all mobbed Miiro, now Agent Miiro, shaking her hand and subjecting her to much jubilant glomping. Gasping for breath, the bedraggled agent shouldered her way beyond the hub of overexcited PPCers. She was met by Mara, Isaiah, and GreyLadyBast, who, after considerable effort, managed to get her some breathing room. Still, there was a stifling gaggle of slightly manic agents, who showered Miiro with Bleeprin and gave her many odd gifts and tokens of appreciation.
Eventually, the crowd subsided long enough to crowd around the food tables and begin the celebration in earnest. In a short time, Agent Lambda’s evil twin was conversing with Tess, the DoSAT secretary, by the Bleeprin table.
“I understand that it was your copy of the Silmarillion that Lambda used for the ceremony,” Hellga was saying. “It looked to be in marvelous condition.”
The neatly-dressed young woman looked proud. “Hardbound, first-printing,” she informed Hellga. “I usually keep it in a safe. Its value has increased exponentially since I brought it to the PPC, and some enthusiastic agents have tried to borrow it in order to exorcise bad slash demons. I’d rather have it reserved for ceremonies.”
“Understandably.”
Newbie Perhin was comparing hats with GreyLadyBast, who shared her fondness for black fedoras. Perhin admired the Most Holy Hat, with its single mallorn leaf on the brim pinned at a slightly jaunty angle. Meanwhile, Simnal was being consoled by Starwind Rohana, who shared her protective nature when it came to children. Isaiah made sure not to separate himself from Mara, and after some time inquired whether they had to do the cleaning up.
“Nah,” Mara answered. “BeautyID is the Chief Janitor of the temple. She’ll do the job for us.”
“Ah. Excellent.” Isaiah searched his mind for something to say when he remembered that he had forgotten to present Miiro with an official PPC bumper sticker.
“Hang on, Mara,” he said, hastily downing his Bleepka. “I have to return to my quarters. I’ll meet you right by the main entrance to the temple, all right?”
“Bring back some bacon, if you can!” his partner called back.
A swell of contentment washed over Isaiah as he jogged down the hallways. He entered his quarters with a grin. A Misspelled Monkey gained and a Mary Sue slain. What day could be more-
BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!
--satisfactory?
The End
Continue to Mission 5
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Araeph’s note: Whoa, that was a lot of allusions. For anyone not familiar with them, here follows a list of links for both the first and second halves of the inter-mission time, so that you may be enlightened:
Evelyn’s Fic: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/1467813/1/
The Official Fanfiction University of the Caribbean Islands: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/1461381/5/
DOGA Clan: www.freewebs.com/bonsaimallorn
The Temple of GreyLadyBast: http://www.freewebs.com/bonsaimallorn2/BastHome.htm
Glopsnerch Earmuffs: http://users.tm.net/trailrider/wild/snerch_ad2
The Lightning Smite: http://www.freewebs.com/bonsaimallorn2/SmiteLightning.htm
The PPC Initiation Rite for Female Members: http://www.geocities.com/thequendi/initiate.html#A
The Misadventures of Jaycacia: http://www.freewebs.com/bonsaimallorn3/Badfic.htm
The Mary Sue Scalp Belt: http://www.geocities.com/thequendi/scalp.html
The Most Holy Hat: http://www.freewebs.com/bonsaimallorn2/BastHat.htm
The Balrog Sue: http://ppcwebmaster.proboards25.com/index.cgi?board=general&action=display&num=1071433346
Thanks to all the agents, boarders, and course coordinators that participated. It was really fun writing this. I hope I didn’t malign your characters too badly. Except for Bast, of course. ‘Cause everyone knows she’s not a godde-
*SMITE!*
*reels unsteadily away from the computer*
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The Temple of GreyLadyBast was already laden with PPC-related foodstuffs when Agents Isaiah and Quen arrived. There were assorted mini-beverages, including rhum, bloffee, and coffeine, and mini-foods, such as a great platter of lembass. The tables were piled high with Bleeprin, Bleepsinthe, Bleepesteem, Bleepka, and other derivatives, as well as chocolate.
Quen took attendance over Isaiah’s protests. She merely smiled and pulled up a spare chair by the door. An efficient secretary, she always carried several pens on her person, and only had to dash back to the secretary’s office briefly to steal a few sheets of paper for the occasion. Isaiah softly pressed a VIP ticket to the ceremony into her hand before the guests began entering.
Many agents had come early, enthusiastic about the smiting. First in was Agent Laih, a rather tall, cheerful PPCer who was accompanied by the guest of honor, Starfish of Elves, who had first alerted the agents to the perils of Evelyn. (They had both won a "Guess the Age of the Suethor" contest and had sent in badfics to be PPC'd.) Laih's partner, Agent Mimarhan, seemed to be her antithesis: short, orange-haired, bespectacled, and with her three minis tagging along after her. Glorifindel and Thundrell in particular were a bit rambunctious until Mara and Isaiah showed them the way to the large, steaming strips of bacon. Agents Nenya and Tiranel were next, Agent Nenya having been informed early about the ceremony by Agent Quen. Like Mimarhan, Agent Nenya sported red hair and contrasted strikingly with her comrade-in-arms, a dark Trill/Elf hybrid (no one had yet worked up the courage to ask how that had come about). Agent Tiranel was muttering under her breath about having to get Nenya up, shove her into the bathroom to get changed, and make sure she didn’t come late to the ceremony.
“How many are coming, do you know?” Isaiah asked his partner conversationally.
“Scores, probably,” Mara replied. They speculated whether there would be more
newbies or veteran PPCers showing up for the smiting. Or, as Isaiah suggested, Evelyn-Sue might be an equal-opportunity offender.
“Hello, Twiggy!” Mara greeted the agent, whose full name was too long for most to remember. “One for the newbies,” she said out of the corner of her mouth to Isaiah. It was nice to chat idly without worrying about finding your footing in a fic with no periods or having your favorite character turn into a rapist.
“You look-er-very down-do-earth, very...um...natural,” Isaiah said, trying to find a way to compliment Twiggy on her rather original taste in clothing.
“I hope you do better than that with Quen,” Mara teased. Then she got a full view of Twiggy’s olive-green skirt, yellow sandals, and flowing tan blouse--and shut up.
Twiggy took several deep breaths. “I need to warm up for shouting at Evelyn,” she explained, downing a glass of water and clearing her throat. Standing up as straight as she could, she inhaled and suddenly bellowed, "MAY YOU ROAST ETERNALLY IN THE FREEZING PIT OF THE VOID WITH ONLY MELKOR AND BOMBADIL POETRY FOR COMPANY, O THOU UNCANONICAL MULTIPLE-ELF-BEDDING SUE!"
Over at the mini-Balrog table, several raw eggs burst from the sheer volume of her diatribe.
“Not bad,” Twiggy nodded, “for a first time. When the Sue comes it will be much more forceful, I assure you.”
Mara and Isaiah stared at each other.
“Still got those glopsnerch earmuffs?” Isaiah wondered, wondering when his ears would stop ringing.
______________________________________________________
Meanwhile, Recruit Miiro traipsed through a cavernous passage, her confidence only a little shaken as she neared the Halls of Doom. She recalled the passage from the PPC Initiation book regarding acceptance for female members, which she had memorized in the hopes of evading the last-minute jitters. “One time, and one time only shall the Sacred Book of Rites be opened for all to see,” she quoted softly to herself. “If at any time the prospective agent chooses to turn back, she is grabbed by the scruff of the neck and tossed back in.” Happily, she had not needed that treatment yet.
“What now...oh, right! The Dead ‘Sue Sutra.” The recruit knelt down and chanted:
"I will kill the 'Sue.
I will protect Canon.
But only after I have completed the charge list
And charged the 'Sue
Shall I kill her.
Grant me strength,
Mighty Tolkien,
That I may destroy
This abomination of your most holy work."
To prove that she was completely insane, she was required to pass through the Halls of Doom, dragging the Sue with her. These halls were dark and silent, their redundant grey broken only by occasional splotches of urple and wilver, the signs of past struggles with victim ‘Sues. Evelyn seemed to notice the signs, for she began to put up more of a fight than ever. She kicked as best she could, bit, and tried to scream through the gag. Once she even tried to headbutt Miiro-a most fortunate occurrence, for the recruit had been hugging the walls in order to see the fascinating Sue remains. The PPCer dodged to the side just in time and Evelyn’s head cracked against the stone, knocking her out right near a spot where a few shimmering golden hairs were embedded in the stone.
Facing the bored Kender and the gibbering Mouther that the Rite detailed proved a difficult task indeed, particularly since she had no idea what those were. She found out when she reached for her knife to cut off some of Evelyn’s hair as a trophy and found that her weapon was missing.
“Oops,” said a voice from behind her. “I think you dropped this.”
Miiro groaned. She groped for the extra knife hidden in her boot, and found that that was gone, too.
Abruptly, she realized that the Kender wasn’t the only monster near her at that moment.
“AAAAAH!”
Quickly stopping her fingers in her ears, she dropped to her stomach and let Evelyn take the full blast of the mind-numbing gibberish. She raced headlong away from the creatures, wondering if this was the PPC’s way of enforcing the fact that she was insane.
After that, her worst fear was comparatively easy to manage. Though she would not admit it to any PPCer, Galenvagoriel the Absurd Elvish Sue had given her more nightmares than she could remember. Galenvagoriel’s super-Elven agility did not avail her in this encounter, however. Miiro made a pretense of engaging in battle, and the Sue was giggling in triumph when Miiro suddenly asked the Sue the origin of her name. The self-insertion had disappeared in a puff of logic.
“Well,” Miiro ventured in relief, “that wasn’t so bad. Maybe this isn’t so hard after-”
Hey dol! merry dol! ring a dong dillo!
Ring a dong! hop along! fal lal the willow!
Too late, the soon-to-be Agent Miiro realized that she had forgotten the last and most crucial part of the test: Tom Bombadil’s poetry recital.
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
Her shriek was almost loud enough to drown out the singing.
____________________________________________
The arrival of the unconscious and somewhat scramble-brained Evelyn was greeted with boos, hisses, the odd expletive here and there. Miiro calmly took out the rope she had been instructed to carry with her and secure Evelyn to the glitter-stained altar.
Then began the victory parade. Streamers of Sue-hair and outrageous garb from previous victims fluttered to the ground around the PPCers. Old war trophies were paraded about-Sue scalp belts, a sword with a solid gold hilt, even a fiery whip from the one and only blue-eyed Balrog Sue. One agent even took to wearing the blue skin of a unicorn. Agent Daffyd and the rest of the DOGA clan came forward to light a large bonfire.
"She's a Sue! Buuuurrrrnn!" screamed Technetium, her hair in disarray as Evelyn slowly began to regain consciousness. Rufus, a new recruit to the PPC, eagerly tossed a flamethrower into the huge conflagration. “FIRE!” she screamed. In a short time, the Clan of the Cactus had made the final preparations for the ritual.
“Are we ready?” Isaiah asked Mara. She nodded and motioned to the crowd for silence.
“Very good then. Bring forth the Red Book!” cried Isaiah imperiously.
The Lord of the Rings appeared in all of its printed glory. Mara flipped several crisp leaves until she came upon one bookmarked section.
Isaiah, having the better voice for projecting out into a crowd, was chosen to play the part of the announcer. He was impressed by how well his words carried across to the gathered PPCers.
“Members of the Canon Protection Initiative!” he belted out. “We present, in honor of Miiro’s initiation into the PPC, the most character-corrupting Sue I’ve ever seen. Born of an author who read the books, this is a double-dealing monstrosity the likes of which even we have rarely dealt with.”
Gasps rose from several PPC agents. This Sue’s author had read the books? News had reached them of her egregious deeds as far as seducing two Elves and abusing Shadowfax were concerned. But this-that she was a bookie’s Sue-was almost too much. A low rumble of dire threats began to emanate from the densely-packed assembly of agents.
“Mara, would you kindly reiterate the charges for those gathered here?”
“Evelyn Eliza,” Mara began. “You are charged with being a Mary Sue, with falling into Middle Earth through a plothole and-”
Agent Evelyn, a diminutive thirteen-year-old PotC PPCer, bared her teeth. Evelyn-Sue caught her look of loathing and scrunched against the altar.
"YOU BLOODY ELF-CHEATING, NAME-STEALING SLUT!" Evelyn yelled, flinging a spork at her Mary Sue namesake. It tangled itself in Evelyn-Sue’s hair, and in trying to extricate it, she found that her tresses had caught in the uncanonical zipper of her dress.
“--Speaking Westron without any prior knowledge of it, bashing both Arwen and Galadriel, causing Legolas and Elladan to be so out of character that we lost two CADs to PPCing you, especially making them fall in love with you, fight over you, have children with you, and attempt rape on you...”
“Elves don't rape, you stupid git!” TZA interjected.
Then it was Twiggy’s turn to shout at Evelyn. Even the agents who were half-deaf on account of their computer consoles beeping loudly and frequently were forced to cover their ears. When the temple’s pillars had stopped shaking, the female agent continued.
Mara was used to these interrupted readings. She didn’t mind the expletives and various threats coming from every precinct of the temple. If anything, she was gratified to have her hard work appreciated and some of her previous pain acknowledged. She was particularly pleased when Starwind Rohana stood up among the crowd and let loose an invective of considerable creativity.
“You little COW! Don't you know that children are really, really important? YOU were a child once! Be nice and- oh, wait, you don't care for anyone except yourself, you mangled, fleabrained, rotting little rag of an excuse for a dungheap!”
“--Sleeping with both Elladan and Legolas without either one knowing, having bad grammar, separating letters from their words, putting a saddle on Shadowfax, having unnaturally quickly gestating babies, and with having upwards of 77 period-comma substitutions. Also, thanks to TZA for several additional charges.” Mara nodded to a very short redhead wearing glasses, black leather lace-up ankle boots, jeans, and a black t-shirt with 'Reports of Haldir's Death Are Greatly Exaggerated'. “We have added the following: having one of Elrond’s advisors in Mirkwood as your teacher, forcing King Thranduil to be your teacher instead of running the kingdom and saving his sons from Sues like you, and attempting to be immortal, which, fortunately, we were able to prevent.”
Sharp pointy objects were waved liberally in the air as Mara completed the charges. Agent Rowyn, decked out in her very best black trench coat, menaced the Sue for some time, alternating her dagger and cutlass with two colonial pistols in remarkably good condition. At the same time, Agent Ekwy unsheathed a replica of the Sword of Godric Gryffindor, brandished it menacingly at the Sue and uttered something under her breath that sounded remarkably like a Latin-based Harry Potter curse.
From the first-row seats, Quen blinked. The Mary Sue’s nose had turned into a piece of cauliflower.
“Was that supposed to happen?” she whispered to Tiranel, who was sitting to her left.
“I don’t think so,” replied the agent, who had inherited Elven hearing and was almost certain that Ekwy had used the Jelly-Legs curse.
“Who cares?” asked several other PPCers, eyeing the Sue gleefully. Evelyn strained against her bonds.
“Your fate,” finished Mara, “is to be smitten by the Great PPC Goddess and then be blasted to shreds by the same canon that you have mutilated so painfully.”
A short, blue-eyed blonde wearing a lab coat strode forward, muttering under her breath, "What is with all the skanky, two-timing, bitchy, lying, evil 'Sues nowadays?" and shaking her head. Being an expert in electric current, she had been asked to tinker with the receptivity of the altar to lightning strikes. Wearing thick rubber gloves, she fiddled with several small instruments and then checked to make sure that Evelyn’s hair was free. She then walked quickly back to her seat, stopping only to bow reverently to the blackness in the far left corner of the temple.
An awed quiet came over those gathered.
A grey, catlike shape emerged lithely from the shadows. Lo, it was the imposing figure of GreyLadyBast, the resident PPC goddess and smiter of infidels. Fair and terrible she was to look upon, and her eyes gleamed with a feral light.
"TASTE MY SMITE, SPAWN OF MORGOTH!!!" she proclaimed, pinioning the Sue to the altar with her Extra Exclamation Points of Doom. The Sue quivered violently as the feline deity glared icily at her.
The great goddess Bast smote the Sue upon the altar thus: lightning was called down from the sky, and for a moment, the temple blazed bright blue. Then, with great vigor and a slightly deranged grin, Bast zapped the Sue thrice in the posterior, once for each time that Evelyn had misspelled her smiting tool as “lightening.”
In a spectacular display of fanati-er, zeal, Agent Simnal waved her poisoned knife around so frenetically that it flew from her hand and landed between Evelyn’s thumb and forefinger. She began shrieking at Evelyn in what the PPCers thought to be a gift of tongues from the goddess, but which others recognized as bastardized Suvian Elvish. Many wondered if GreyLadyBast would appreciate this interruption, but she merely made a Cheshire grin, which widened, if that was possible, when Simnal exclaimed, "AND IF YOU CARED ABOUT YOUR BABIES AT *ALL*, YOU'D USE YOUR STUPID SUE POWERS AND SORT THEM OUT, YOU HEARTLESS ELF-RAPIST!"
The goddess ended with a forced recitation of the differences between “you're” and “your” and “their,” “there” and “they're,” and how one must NEVER mix them up. And her word was true, and the Sue was silent.
Then, the first of the Readers stepped forward.
Agent Lambda, like Dr. Niamh, entered wearing a newly ironed white lab coat. She was a tall, brown haired PPCer who was one of the only agents who showed up wearing high heels. Lambda promptly slipped a pair of latex gloves out of her pocket and methodically put them on, so as not to damage the Sacred Text of the Silmarillion during the reading. Her evil twin, Hellga, and her mini-Balrog, Carathir, cheered her on from the middle row of seats.
Hellga opened the book reverently and read, “Immortal were the Elves, and their wisdom waxed from age to age, and no sickness nor pestilence brought death to them. Their bodies indeed were the stuff of Earth, and could be destroyed; and in those days they were more like the bodies of Men...But Men were more frail, more easily slain by weapon or mischance, and less easily healed; subject to sickness and many ills; and they grew old and died. Page 119, just so you know. That means that you, Sue, must die. You are one of the race of Men. You may not become immortal, no matter what kind of spawn inhabits your womb.”
Evelyn’s long blonde hair, already standing on end after the lightning strikes, began to undulate and jerk about. Her eyes bulged, and she quivered visibly.
Hellga closed the book with a snap, placed it on a small end table upon which rested the Canon, and nodded to Agent Tamaris Arilie as the latter took her place. She narrowed her eyes in anger, and her normally pale face was tinged red for a moment. She was one of the many agents that commanded fear with her very presence.
“Marriage customs of the Eldar,” she announced, her voice deadly calm, taking out Morgoth’s Ring. “The Eldar wedded once only in life, and for love or at the least by free will upon either party. Furthermore, How then can a marriage be ended and the union be dissolved? By the law of the nature of the Elves, the neri and the nissi being equal, there can be union only of one with one.” You have attempted an impossible union of one with two. And as the Elves only wed of free will, and sex equals marriage in Elven culture, not only can there be no bigamy, but there can be no rape.” Abruptly she yelled, "May the winds of change blow a stench your way and the fires of hell forever light your arse!" The PPCers roared their agreement. With each word, Evelyn’s Sue-beauty was sapped a little. Her skin took on an unhealthy tinge-not greenish, but bright pink. Her eyes swirled purple.
Agent Maly, one of the kinder souls in the PPC, replaced Agent Tamaris. “In sympathy for the agents who had to PPC this thing...I found two passages. Quotation one begins with Beregond remarking on the beauty of Shadowfax. ‘How strong and proud he is! Where is his harness? It should be rich and fair.’
“‘None is rich and fair enough for him,’ said Pippin. ‘He will have none. If he will consent to bear you, bear you he does; and if not, well, no bit, bridle, whip, or thong will tame him.’
“And in the Two Towers, Gandalf says, ‘I do not ride elf-fashion, except on Shadowfax....But Shadowfax will have no harness. You do not ride Shadowfax: he is willing to carry you-or not.’ If an author tells you something twice, you might want to pay attention.”
Evelyn gave an almighty shriek and she began to spin like a top. Bubbles frothed at her mouth and she spouted out roses and diamonds. Maly beamed at the Department of Technical Errors agents, and gave them both quick hugs before returning to her seat.
Agent Tarragon stepped forward next with a determined air, her baggy black pants and shirt ruffled by the many yells coming from the PPCers, who were, by now, livid. She stared pointedly at the audience, which at once calmed down, opened the Red Book to the Appendices, and quoted Elrond’s speech to Aragorn: ‘“But as for Arwen the Fair, Lady of Imladris and of Lorien, Evenstar of her people, she is of lineage greater than yours, and she has lived in the world already so long that to her you are but as a yearling shoot beside a birch of many summers. She is too far above you.’ Idiot Sue. Elrond thought Aragorn, heir of Isildur and valiant warrior, was too young for Arwen at twenty. Elrond would never allow you and Elladan to be together, when you are sixteen and Elladan is nearly three thousand years old!”
The madly spinning Sue began stretching like an overextended swimcap. And as if that simile weren’t bad enough, her fingers went wobbly for a moment and were sucked into her arms like a squid turning inside out. The PPC agents covered their ears as the bad writing was expelled from the plot continuum.
It was Miiro who was to deliver the final strike against the Sue. The DTE agents had consulted with both her and Bast for a long time before reaching a consensus that Miiro should read aloud the confirmation of character slander against a canon character. Miiro herself had opted for the passage when they had asked for her opinion. Now, she stepped determinedly up to the Sue and looked her in the eyes.
“Here follows a description of the Lady Arwen, as Frodo sees her in the House of Elrond. As you have read, Mary Sue, she is a fair and farsighted being, not a petty vixen who insults her relatives. Ahem.”
Miiro held the book so that the Sue could see it, then recited the words that the recruit had learned by rote, emphasizing certain parts here and there:
Young she was and yet not so. The braids of her dark hair were touched by no frost; her white arms and clear face were flawless and smooth, and the light of stars was in her bright eyes, grey as cloudless night; yet queenly she looked, and thought and knowledge were in her glance, as one who has known many things that the years bring.
It was quiet in the chamber. The PPCers held their breath.
Suddenly, Evelyn’s head shlooped into her torso, which swelled. She ballooned out and out and-
BOOM!
“YAY!”
"MAKE UP YOUR FREAKIN' MIND! IF YOU'RE GOING TO DE-CANONNIZE A CHARACTER PLEASE PICK ONE OF THEM AS YOUR BOYFRIEND!"
Perhin Gamgin’s words left her lips just as Evelyn burst into a kaleidoscope of frilled streamers and a fantastic spray of glitter dust. Being a newbie to the PPC, she hadn’t been able to scream at the Sue before now, so loud had been the veterans’ cries of rage and exclamations of protest. There was a collective sigh of relief as a few urple spangles floated to the ground, turning into dust as they touched the temple floor.
There was thunderous applause and several cheers in various languages, including Agent Lambda, who screamed, "Uvanimë uquetima!" so loudly that she lost her voice. The mini-Balrogs went wild, Rohirian and Eraidor in particular, cracking their fiery whips and sending a shower of sparks high into the air, igniting some of the residue of Sue.
Mara stepped forward, coughing on the sickly-sweet Sue aroma and waving away the stinging sparkles. She took the initiate’s arm and led her forward. “Members of the PPC...I give you Agent Miiro!”
Miiro looked slightly flustered, but bowed in thanks to crowd. The Pirates of the Caribbean PPCers lead the cheering with three “Huzzah”s, and those from the Lord of the Rings continuum began a chant:
“Long live Agent Miiro! Praise her with great praise!”
Isaiah came up, sidestepping Dr. Niamh, who was catching the remainder of the sparkles in a test tube to analyze, since two-timing Sues were surprisingly rare. The coils of blond hair were still twisting on the charged breeze. The agents held their breath so as not to be exposed to the vile miasma. One or two agents weren’t careful enough, and after sneezing twice ended up with ruby red lips and gold flecks on their cheeks. The PPCers all mobbed Miiro, now Agent Miiro, shaking her hand and subjecting her to much jubilant glomping. Gasping for breath, the bedraggled agent shouldered her way beyond the hub of overexcited PPCers. She was met by Mara, Isaiah, and GreyLadyBast, who, after considerable effort, managed to get her some breathing room. Still, there was a stifling gaggle of slightly manic agents, who showered Miiro with Bleeprin and gave her many odd gifts and tokens of appreciation.
Eventually, the crowd subsided long enough to crowd around the food tables and begin the celebration in earnest. In a short time, Agent Lambda’s evil twin was conversing with Tess, the DoSAT secretary, by the Bleeprin table.
“I understand that it was your copy of the Silmarillion that Lambda used for the ceremony,” Hellga was saying. “It looked to be in marvelous condition.”
The neatly-dressed young woman looked proud. “Hardbound, first-printing,” she informed Hellga. “I usually keep it in a safe. Its value has increased exponentially since I brought it to the PPC, and some enthusiastic agents have tried to borrow it in order to exorcise bad slash demons. I’d rather have it reserved for ceremonies.”
“Understandably.”
Newbie Perhin was comparing hats with GreyLadyBast, who shared her fondness for black fedoras. Perhin admired the Most Holy Hat, with its single mallorn leaf on the brim pinned at a slightly jaunty angle. Meanwhile, Simnal was being consoled by Starwind Rohana, who shared her protective nature when it came to children. Isaiah made sure not to separate himself from Mara, and after some time inquired whether they had to do the cleaning up.
“Nah,” Mara answered. “BeautyID is the Chief Janitor of the temple. She’ll do the job for us.”
“Ah. Excellent.” Isaiah searched his mind for something to say when he remembered that he had forgotten to present Miiro with an official PPC bumper sticker.
“Hang on, Mara,” he said, hastily downing his Bleepka. “I have to return to my quarters. I’ll meet you right by the main entrance to the temple, all right?”
“Bring back some bacon, if you can!” his partner called back.
A swell of contentment washed over Isaiah as he jogged down the hallways. He entered his quarters with a grin. A Misspelled Monkey gained and a Mary Sue slain. What day could be more-
BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!
--satisfactory?
The End
Continue to Mission 5
___________________________________________
Araeph’s note: Whoa, that was a lot of allusions. For anyone not familiar with them, here follows a list of links for both the first and second halves of the inter-mission time, so that you may be enlightened:
Evelyn’s Fic: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/1467813/1/
The Official Fanfiction University of the Caribbean Islands: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/1461381/5/
DOGA Clan: www.freewebs.com/bonsaimallorn
The Temple of GreyLadyBast: http://www.freewebs.com/bonsaimallorn2/BastHome.htm
Glopsnerch Earmuffs: http://users.tm.net/trailrider/wild/snerch_ad2
The Lightning Smite: http://www.freewebs.com/bonsaimallorn2/SmiteLightning.htm
The PPC Initiation Rite for Female Members: http://www.geocities.com/thequendi/initiate.html#A
The Misadventures of Jaycacia: http://www.freewebs.com/bonsaimallorn3/Badfic.htm
The Mary Sue Scalp Belt: http://www.geocities.com/thequendi/scalp.html
The Most Holy Hat: http://www.freewebs.com/bonsaimallorn2/BastHat.htm
The Balrog Sue: http://ppcwebmaster.proboards25.com/index.cgi?board=general&action=display&num=1071433346
Thanks to all the agents, boarders, and course coordinators that participated. It was really fun writing this. I hope I didn’t malign your characters too badly. Except for Bast, of course. ‘Cause everyone knows she’s not a godde-
*SMITE!*
*reels unsteadily away from the computer*