PPC Mission 3: The Ring of Artemis.
Title: THE RING OF ARTEMIS
Author: Brown Eyed Girl17
Rating: M
Obligatory linkage: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2536173/1/The_Ring_of_Artemis
Mission by: dawnbluewings, as Agent Rose/Ross
Notes: This story was the only Tamora Pierce/Lord of the Rings crossover on the Pit. I WONDER WHY. Obviously still in progress, and not really deserving the M warning, though I’m going to keep it just in case my Agent(s) get away with me and inflict a particularly horrendous death on this… this… Thisness.
Beta'd by my incomparable little sister, Meip.
Mission 3: THE RING OF ARTEMIS
Disclaimer: I do not own the PPC. It was created by the incomparable Jay and Acacia many, many years ago. Nor do I own this fic. Thank the gods. What I do own is Agent Rose/Ross, for whom Permission was granted on June 22nd, 2009, by Techno-Dann. Thank you.
***
Ross O--- - His paranoia and insistence on keeping his sister’s identity safe online had backfired upon their joining of the PPC, rendering their last name to be pronounced “Ohdashdashdash” - was roused from his sleep, curled up with his dog in his big comfy chair, by an insistent and affronted
[BEEP!]
The Agent, still not recovered from his last mission, glared sleepily at the Console, and heaved himselves out of the chair, and went to brace himself on the Console and squint at the screen. With a sigh, his sister Rose pulled their glasses out of the breast pocket of their jacket, and slid them up the twins’ communal nose.
And blinked.
“This… is a joke, right?” she asked, softly, scanning the introduction. “A troll?”
“Somehow, I just don’t think so,” murmured Ross, not for the first time wishing that he had a corporeal body and could therefore give his sister the hug she desperately seemed to need at that moment. After a moment of scanning the story for himself, he found that Rose wasn’t the only one in need of a hug. “I… I… I think that this is a case in which we need some heavy artillery… We need to burn it. Burn it ALL.”
Very carefully, Ross hooked his bag out from under his bed, and filled it with equal care with anything he could lay hands on. “All we have to be thankful of is that it looks like the author has abandoned it,” he muttered,
“What do you mean?” asked Rose, absentmindedly placing a stuffed alligator into their bag.
“Look at the date. It hasn’t been updated since it was published, and that was 2005.” Slinging the bag over his shoulders, Ross stepped up to the console, dialed in a disguise - “Random Servant FTK! Male, this time, if you please!” - and dialed up a portal.
Stepping through, Rose barely managed to throw their communal body to the ‘ground’ part of the undefined blackness that surrounded them before bullet-like text, bold and capslocked whizzed by.
THE
RING
OF ARTEMIS
Ross grimaced. “Inserting a Greek goddess into not one, but two pantheons where she has no place,” he muttered, flipping open his notebook.
Another grimace and note as WRITTEN BY PHOENIX GUARDIAN OF FIRE
whizzed by. “Having an incredibly stupid name for the author…”
“What in the world is a ‘Qurtet’?” asked Rose, trying to make some light of the situation, and failing.
“I have no idea but - oh my sweet merciful gods!” cried Ross, making a pentagram in the air before him to ward off evil. “Not being arsed enough to look up how many rings were given to the dwarves. Seven. Try seven. Not eleven!”
Another line of Projectile Poetry, and a rather despondent-looking Mini-Balrog wandered out of the shadowy un-space around them.
“Darklord, huh?” asked Rose, cooing to the little Maia. “Come here, honey. Do you want to help kill the evil Sues? Yes you do yes you do…”
“Rose?”
“Yes?”
“You’ve degenerated to cooing at a Mini like it’s a kitten. Come on, we have to get this through with.”
Rose and Ross listened with pained silence as the author created another ring, to give to a maiden with the purest heart known throughout Middle Earth and established that, since that maiden was hunted by the nine riders, she fled to the Eastern Lands of Tortall, Cathark, Tyra, Galla, Tusaine, Maren, The Copper Isles, and The Yamani Islands.
“Why, exactly, did she have to change her name upon arrival? You never said anything about her name before,” moaned Ross, knees pulled up to chest, rocking a little. He reached out and petted the newly arrived Middle Earth, looking very pained.
Rose sighed, reached out to scritch the newly arrived Mini-Stormwing Cathrak, and continued to write down charges. “Causing Frodo, Gandalf, and Galadriel to all still be in Middle-Earth. Causing Boromir to still be alive. Causing Éowyn to spontaneously leave her husband to go on a wild romp to a place that never existed in that continuum. Insisting that Kel marry Dom. Giving Kel the Speshul Ring to give to her daughter. Giving Kel twins. Having Kel give those twins terrible names. Am I missing anything, Ross?”
All that Ross could do was whimper in reply as the exposition ended and the story proper began.
“Kaylin you need to keep this safe, you must keep the ring away from them, it’s your destiny, your father and I can keep them busy long enough for you to get out of here. Go to Galla, you will be safe.”
Rose grimaced. “Making Kel speak in run-on sentences. Also, fallacious logic. How the hell would she be safe in Galla if she isn’t safe in Tortall?”
“She just wants to get little Kaylin away from doting mommy,” said Ross, with a sigh. “I mean, really. Would the Kel we know willingly endanger her pwecious only daughter? Far more likely she would keep the ring, talk to the people out to destroy it and - oh gods…” Ross doubled up in pain, falling to the ground, as the location shifted abruptly. “Did not... see that coming… at all… Charge her for that…”
“Not marking location changes/POV shifts AT ALL. Also, making Gimli change the subject faster than a caffeinated teenager. Check.” Rose picked them up off the ground, and scribbled it down on her arm.
“I am just wondering if I’ll ever marry, I mean look at Aragorn, he and Arwen married and they understand why the other fights to keep the country safe, I need a maiden who will do the same for me, and not consistently worry about me and beg me to sit this one out.” Legolas explained.
Rose groaned. “Making Legolas act like a lovesick teenager. Major check there. And what do you bet me that Kaylin will be his Twu Wuv?”
“No bet,” said Ross, with another groan as Gimli asserted that he was married. “Wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong…”
Rose stared at Aragorn, king of Gondor, as he strode out of ‘the palace’ - “I thought it was the citadel…” Rose said, with another pained look - and began whining. “Freedom from the people!”
“Well, I guess… No. No. No, she did not just do that…” But she had. Gimli had just said “Hey Highness, what’s going on in the world of the King of Middle Earth?”
“Making Gimli speak like a modern teen. Making Aragorn king of Middle Earth. Making him resent his duties,” Rose muttered, as Aragorn whined more.
“I cannot take it anymore! Everyone wants me to do all these things for the kingdom; I think we should just get the damn ring and destroy it! Not let Arwen risk it to see if she can control it!” Aragorn snapped.
“Yes, dear, that’s what being king is about. Doing things for your kingdom. And exactly what makes Arwen think that she can control this… this.. thisness?” demanded Rose. Ross, however, refused to answer. Rose could hear him, somewhere in the back of their mind, humming something suspiciously similar to Pippin’s song from the third Lord of the Rings movie, and crying.
Rose shook her head, and sneaked closer. “Okay. So we only have Legolas, Gimli, And Aragorn - no, heads up, Preggers!Arwen at twelve o’clock!” she sighed as a visibly pregnant Arwen walked - er, waddled - to where the three men stood. Quietly, Rose made her way to the gate, pulled out the CAD, and pointed it at one member of the group after another, sighing with relief when it noted that they were merely ruptured, not altogether replaced. With that, as Gimli walked out of the gate, she hit him over the head with her bell.
Legolas was the closest thing she had to a brother.
“Aside from, you know, her actual brothers?” asked Rose, hoping to elicit a response out of Ross, and waited as Aragorn, now inexplicably wielding a plow - “Oh. Fallowing.” - made his way headfirst into her bell as well. “Two down,” she murmured, taping the unconscious pair together as the Suethor’s influence caused thousands-of-years-old elves to converse like moody teenage girls.
A quick glance at the Words told Rose that a shift in location and point of view was eminent, and, quickly, she darted out, whacking both the elves about the head with her twenty pound bronze bell, effectively rendering them unconscious.
Taping the pair of them to the other unconscious Canons, Rose took a firm grip on the whole mess of them as the words
Back to Kaylin
tried to take her head off. If nothing else, holding on to four duct-taped Canons caused her to stay upright as the shift occurred.
“Kami, Ayden, you ready?”
“Alright,” said Ross, suddenly and violently seizing control of their body. “This has gone on long enough,” he announced, once again swinging his bell, this time hitting Keladry and Domitan of Masbolle, taking both Lady Knight and Sergeant out of the action. “Sir Nealan, Lady Yukimi, Lord Anders, please forgive this,” he said, and gave them the same treatment before they could react.
“Now. As for you three,” he said, with a homicidal grin, rather reminiscent of the villain from a certain set of movies starring a man in a bat suit, “I wouldn’t move if I were you…” another instant, and he had hit all three young people present with his bell. The resulting clamor, thankfully, did not bring anyone running. Taking another look at one of the girls, Ross said, quietly and calmly, in a low, melodic voice reserved mostly for Stus, “You, Chisakami, are guilty of having a stolen name, choosing a bad nickname, having a VERY stupid alias, supposedly being half-Yamani and yet also supposedly looking a lot like someone who is not, annoying me, and being a Mary Sue.” Raising his bell again, he very, very deliberately brought it down once more. And again. And again. When the girl he was hitting was rendered to not much more than a bloody, glittery smear on the floor, Ross finally stopped hitting her, and looked up at the Tortallan Canons, who were beginning to come to. Quickly duct-taping the Twin-Sues together, Ross flashed that smile again, and continued in his Raging Maniac Suave Tone.
“There. Now that I have taken out a little of my RAEG, I can properly exorcise you all.” Again raising his bell, Ross pulled out paperbacks of the Protector of the Small quartet, placing one on the chest of each of the adults, happy that he had several copies of each in his bag. “Avaunt, lousy excuses. Avaunt, speshul jewelry. Avaunt, bad jokes. Get thee behind me, O author of this fic!”
Slowly, the author-wraith congealed out of the five assembled Tortallans, and Ross hustled it into a large jar, popping on the lid. He collected his books, pulled out his Neuralyzer, and put on his sunglasses.
[Flash!]
“Lady knight Keladry. You are not married to Domitan of Masbolle. Nor do you have a daughter and a son. Nor did your mother give you any strange ring. Which you did not then give to your nonexistent daughter. Domitan of Masbolle, you are not married to Keladry of Mindelan. You do not have a daughter or a son. Sir Nealan, Lady Yukimi, you two are married, but you do not yet have a daughter. Lord Anders… Why exactly are you here? Now, you will all go about what you would normally be doing right now.”
With a sigh, Ross turned to the slightly-more-conscious Lord of the Rings Canons, and pulled out the Trilogy, as well as the Hobbit. “Alright, your turn now.” Another few bellstrokes, another slow chant of exorcism, and Ross had a completely bottled Author-Wraith, and was informing Gimli that he was not married, Aragorn that he liked running Gondor, and was not king of Middle-Earth, Legolas that he didn’t regret leaving Mirkwood and was in no way wishing to settle down and get married, and Arwen that she, in fact, had two brothers. Opening a portal back to where they should have been and pushing them through, Ross turned back to the taped Sue and Stu.
“So. What to do with you, Hmmm?” he asked, staring at them. “Let’s see. You are twins, and a Sue and Stu. Therefore there is obviously some Magical Bond between you. So. First thing’s first. Sever it.” With the same Manic Grin, Ross dialed in the location he wanted, and pulled them through after himself.
They arrived in a clean white room, the centerpiece of which was a pair of wire cages separated by a sinister looking contraption.
“Ross,” demanded Rose, worried, “are we really in Bolvangar? Are you really going to Intercise them?” The prospect was… worrying, to say the least.
“Yes,” said Ross, calmly, and loaded the Sue into one side of the contraption, and the Stu into the other. Carefully, then, he started up the apparatus. “Let’s see if it works.
The Sue and Stu came back to consciousness just in time to feel the ties that bound them sever.
With another manic grin, Ross pulled his fountain pen out of his pocket, and then grabbed the Stu by the collar, pulling him out. “Hello. I’m Ross. You, Hayden of Masbolle, are guilty of having a stupid name, causing havoc, asserting that Tortall and Middle-Earth could ever exist in the same continuum, and being a Gary Stu. For this, you are sentenced to death.” With that, Ross began to… write. He wrote I will not be a Gary-Stu across the offending boy’s throat. In blood. Carefully, slowly, with the utmost precision and near-Stu-like penmanship, Ross continued to write the same sentence over the body of the Stu, until the offending creature finally gave up and died.
“Good goddamn riddance,” muttered Ross, wiping his pen off and pulling the Sue, now in shock over seeing her twin murdered before her eyes, out of her cage.
Dialing in another location, Ross kicked the body of the Stu through before him, and stepped through, dragging the Sue after him.
The heat and strange lighting of the Crack of Doom made everything shimmer. “Kaylin of Masbolle, you are guilty of the following charges,” intoned Ross, the light of molten lava lending him an even more menacing appearance. “Misspelling ‘quartet’. Not being Arsed to look up the number of rings given to the dwarves. Creation of the Mini-Balrogs Darklord and Middle Earth. Creation of the Mini-Stormwing Cathrak. Inserting Grecian goddesses into pantheons where they have no business whatsoever. Claiming to be the daughter of Keladry of Mindelan. Causing Frodo, Gandalf, and Galadriel not to leave for the West. Causing Boromir to be alive. Causing Éowyn to leave her husband to go gallivanting off after you and your stupid ring. Causing an extra ring. Causing Tortall and Middle-Earth to be on the same world. Causing either Ilane or Keladry to be many thousands of years old for your logic to hold. Abruptly changing locations and points of view. Causing Many-Thousands-of-years-old Elves to act and speak like moody teens. Causing Gimli to be married. Changing the subject like a caffeinated Chihuahua. Causing Aragorn to whine about the responsibilities of being king. Causing Aragorn to be King of Middle Earth. Causing the characters of the Lord of the Rings to use modern slang. Forgetting about the existence of Elladan and Elrohir, AKA the El Twins, the Brothers of Arwen. Causing Aragorn to “Fallow”. Choosing really horrible nicknames for yourself and your brother and cousin. Cousin? While we’re at it, failing to define your relationship to one Chisakami. Choosing really horrible alii for you three as well. Somehow looking like you could be the fraternal twin to one who is half Yamani. And, last, but not least, being a Mary Sue.” With that, Ross stabbed the Sue through the chest with his sister’s fencing sabre, and used his foot to push her back off of it, and over the edge of the rock spur on which they stood, down, down, down into the lava below. Her body was quickly followed by that of her brother, and Ross turned and ran out into the free air.
Opening a portal back to their RC, he shoed the two Mini-Balrogs and Mini-Stormwing through, and looked around himself, sighing.
“Alright,” he said, and dialed in a portal directly back to FicPsych, and stepped through. “Dr. Freedenberg?” he asked the man standing with his back to him. “This is going to take a bit more than Bleeprin…”
Author: Brown Eyed Girl17
Rating: M
Obligatory linkage: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2536173/1/The_Ring_of_Artemis
Mission by: dawnbluewings, as Agent Rose/Ross
Notes: This story was the only Tamora Pierce/Lord of the Rings crossover on the Pit. I WONDER WHY. Obviously still in progress, and not really deserving the M warning, though I’m going to keep it just in case my Agent(s) get away with me and inflict a particularly horrendous death on this… this… Thisness.
Beta'd by my incomparable little sister, Meip.
Mission 3: THE RING OF ARTEMIS
Disclaimer: I do not own the PPC. It was created by the incomparable Jay and Acacia many, many years ago. Nor do I own this fic. Thank the gods. What I do own is Agent Rose/Ross, for whom Permission was granted on June 22nd, 2009, by Techno-Dann. Thank you.
***
Ross O--- - His paranoia and insistence on keeping his sister’s identity safe online had backfired upon their joining of the PPC, rendering their last name to be pronounced “Ohdashdashdash” - was roused from his sleep, curled up with his dog in his big comfy chair, by an insistent and affronted
[BEEP!]
The Agent, still not recovered from his last mission, glared sleepily at the Console, and heaved himselves out of the chair, and went to brace himself on the Console and squint at the screen. With a sigh, his sister Rose pulled their glasses out of the breast pocket of their jacket, and slid them up the twins’ communal nose.
And blinked.
“This… is a joke, right?” she asked, softly, scanning the introduction. “A troll?”
“Somehow, I just don’t think so,” murmured Ross, not for the first time wishing that he had a corporeal body and could therefore give his sister the hug she desperately seemed to need at that moment. After a moment of scanning the story for himself, he found that Rose wasn’t the only one in need of a hug. “I… I… I think that this is a case in which we need some heavy artillery… We need to burn it. Burn it ALL.”
Very carefully, Ross hooked his bag out from under his bed, and filled it with equal care with anything he could lay hands on. “All we have to be thankful of is that it looks like the author has abandoned it,” he muttered,
“What do you mean?” asked Rose, absentmindedly placing a stuffed alligator into their bag.
“Look at the date. It hasn’t been updated since it was published, and that was 2005.” Slinging the bag over his shoulders, Ross stepped up to the console, dialed in a disguise - “Random Servant FTK! Male, this time, if you please!” - and dialed up a portal.
Stepping through, Rose barely managed to throw their communal body to the ‘ground’ part of the undefined blackness that surrounded them before bullet-like text, bold and capslocked whizzed by.
THE
RING
OF ARTEMIS
Ross grimaced. “Inserting a Greek goddess into not one, but two pantheons where she has no place,” he muttered, flipping open his notebook.
Another grimace and note as WRITTEN BY PHOENIX GUARDIAN OF FIRE
whizzed by. “Having an incredibly stupid name for the author…”
“What in the world is a ‘Qurtet’?” asked Rose, trying to make some light of the situation, and failing.
“I have no idea but - oh my sweet merciful gods!” cried Ross, making a pentagram in the air before him to ward off evil. “Not being arsed enough to look up how many rings were given to the dwarves. Seven. Try seven. Not eleven!”
Another line of Projectile Poetry, and a rather despondent-looking Mini-Balrog wandered out of the shadowy un-space around them.
“Darklord, huh?” asked Rose, cooing to the little Maia. “Come here, honey. Do you want to help kill the evil Sues? Yes you do yes you do…”
“Rose?”
“Yes?”
“You’ve degenerated to cooing at a Mini like it’s a kitten. Come on, we have to get this through with.”
Rose and Ross listened with pained silence as the author created another ring, to give to a maiden with the purest heart known throughout Middle Earth and established that, since that maiden was hunted by the nine riders, she fled to the Eastern Lands of Tortall, Cathark, Tyra, Galla, Tusaine, Maren, The Copper Isles, and The Yamani Islands.
“Why, exactly, did she have to change her name upon arrival? You never said anything about her name before,” moaned Ross, knees pulled up to chest, rocking a little. He reached out and petted the newly arrived Middle Earth, looking very pained.
Rose sighed, reached out to scritch the newly arrived Mini-Stormwing Cathrak, and continued to write down charges. “Causing Frodo, Gandalf, and Galadriel to all still be in Middle-Earth. Causing Boromir to still be alive. Causing Éowyn to spontaneously leave her husband to go on a wild romp to a place that never existed in that continuum. Insisting that Kel marry Dom. Giving Kel the Speshul Ring to give to her daughter. Giving Kel twins. Having Kel give those twins terrible names. Am I missing anything, Ross?”
All that Ross could do was whimper in reply as the exposition ended and the story proper began.
“Kaylin you need to keep this safe, you must keep the ring away from them, it’s your destiny, your father and I can keep them busy long enough for you to get out of here. Go to Galla, you will be safe.”
Rose grimaced. “Making Kel speak in run-on sentences. Also, fallacious logic. How the hell would she be safe in Galla if she isn’t safe in Tortall?”
“She just wants to get little Kaylin away from doting mommy,” said Ross, with a sigh. “I mean, really. Would the Kel we know willingly endanger her pwecious only daughter? Far more likely she would keep the ring, talk to the people out to destroy it and - oh gods…” Ross doubled up in pain, falling to the ground, as the location shifted abruptly. “Did not... see that coming… at all… Charge her for that…”
“Not marking location changes/POV shifts AT ALL. Also, making Gimli change the subject faster than a caffeinated teenager. Check.” Rose picked them up off the ground, and scribbled it down on her arm.
“I am just wondering if I’ll ever marry, I mean look at Aragorn, he and Arwen married and they understand why the other fights to keep the country safe, I need a maiden who will do the same for me, and not consistently worry about me and beg me to sit this one out.” Legolas explained.
Rose groaned. “Making Legolas act like a lovesick teenager. Major check there. And what do you bet me that Kaylin will be his Twu Wuv?”
“No bet,” said Ross, with another groan as Gimli asserted that he was married. “Wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong…”
Rose stared at Aragorn, king of Gondor, as he strode out of ‘the palace’ - “I thought it was the citadel…” Rose said, with another pained look - and began whining. “Freedom from the people!”
“Well, I guess… No. No. No, she did not just do that…” But she had. Gimli had just said “Hey Highness, what’s going on in the world of the King of Middle Earth?”
“Making Gimli speak like a modern teen. Making Aragorn king of Middle Earth. Making him resent his duties,” Rose muttered, as Aragorn whined more.
“I cannot take it anymore! Everyone wants me to do all these things for the kingdom; I think we should just get the damn ring and destroy it! Not let Arwen risk it to see if she can control it!” Aragorn snapped.
“Yes, dear, that’s what being king is about. Doing things for your kingdom. And exactly what makes Arwen think that she can control this… this.. thisness?” demanded Rose. Ross, however, refused to answer. Rose could hear him, somewhere in the back of their mind, humming something suspiciously similar to Pippin’s song from the third Lord of the Rings movie, and crying.
Rose shook her head, and sneaked closer. “Okay. So we only have Legolas, Gimli, And Aragorn - no, heads up, Preggers!Arwen at twelve o’clock!” she sighed as a visibly pregnant Arwen walked - er, waddled - to where the three men stood. Quietly, Rose made her way to the gate, pulled out the CAD, and pointed it at one member of the group after another, sighing with relief when it noted that they were merely ruptured, not altogether replaced. With that, as Gimli walked out of the gate, she hit him over the head with her bell.
Legolas was the closest thing she had to a brother.
“Aside from, you know, her actual brothers?” asked Rose, hoping to elicit a response out of Ross, and waited as Aragorn, now inexplicably wielding a plow - “Oh. Fallowing.” - made his way headfirst into her bell as well. “Two down,” she murmured, taping the unconscious pair together as the Suethor’s influence caused thousands-of-years-old elves to converse like moody teenage girls.
A quick glance at the Words told Rose that a shift in location and point of view was eminent, and, quickly, she darted out, whacking both the elves about the head with her twenty pound bronze bell, effectively rendering them unconscious.
Taping the pair of them to the other unconscious Canons, Rose took a firm grip on the whole mess of them as the words
Back to Kaylin
tried to take her head off. If nothing else, holding on to four duct-taped Canons caused her to stay upright as the shift occurred.
“Kami, Ayden, you ready?”
“Alright,” said Ross, suddenly and violently seizing control of their body. “This has gone on long enough,” he announced, once again swinging his bell, this time hitting Keladry and Domitan of Masbolle, taking both Lady Knight and Sergeant out of the action. “Sir Nealan, Lady Yukimi, Lord Anders, please forgive this,” he said, and gave them the same treatment before they could react.
“Now. As for you three,” he said, with a homicidal grin, rather reminiscent of the villain from a certain set of movies starring a man in a bat suit, “I wouldn’t move if I were you…” another instant, and he had hit all three young people present with his bell. The resulting clamor, thankfully, did not bring anyone running. Taking another look at one of the girls, Ross said, quietly and calmly, in a low, melodic voice reserved mostly for Stus, “You, Chisakami, are guilty of having a stolen name, choosing a bad nickname, having a VERY stupid alias, supposedly being half-Yamani and yet also supposedly looking a lot like someone who is not, annoying me, and being a Mary Sue.” Raising his bell again, he very, very deliberately brought it down once more. And again. And again. When the girl he was hitting was rendered to not much more than a bloody, glittery smear on the floor, Ross finally stopped hitting her, and looked up at the Tortallan Canons, who were beginning to come to. Quickly duct-taping the Twin-Sues together, Ross flashed that smile again, and continued in his Raging Maniac Suave Tone.
“There. Now that I have taken out a little of my RAEG, I can properly exorcise you all.” Again raising his bell, Ross pulled out paperbacks of the Protector of the Small quartet, placing one on the chest of each of the adults, happy that he had several copies of each in his bag. “Avaunt, lousy excuses. Avaunt, speshul jewelry. Avaunt, bad jokes. Get thee behind me, O author of this fic!”
Slowly, the author-wraith congealed out of the five assembled Tortallans, and Ross hustled it into a large jar, popping on the lid. He collected his books, pulled out his Neuralyzer, and put on his sunglasses.
[Flash!]
“Lady knight Keladry. You are not married to Domitan of Masbolle. Nor do you have a daughter and a son. Nor did your mother give you any strange ring. Which you did not then give to your nonexistent daughter. Domitan of Masbolle, you are not married to Keladry of Mindelan. You do not have a daughter or a son. Sir Nealan, Lady Yukimi, you two are married, but you do not yet have a daughter. Lord Anders… Why exactly are you here? Now, you will all go about what you would normally be doing right now.”
With a sigh, Ross turned to the slightly-more-conscious Lord of the Rings Canons, and pulled out the Trilogy, as well as the Hobbit. “Alright, your turn now.” Another few bellstrokes, another slow chant of exorcism, and Ross had a completely bottled Author-Wraith, and was informing Gimli that he was not married, Aragorn that he liked running Gondor, and was not king of Middle-Earth, Legolas that he didn’t regret leaving Mirkwood and was in no way wishing to settle down and get married, and Arwen that she, in fact, had two brothers. Opening a portal back to where they should have been and pushing them through, Ross turned back to the taped Sue and Stu.
“So. What to do with you, Hmmm?” he asked, staring at them. “Let’s see. You are twins, and a Sue and Stu. Therefore there is obviously some Magical Bond between you. So. First thing’s first. Sever it.” With the same Manic Grin, Ross dialed in the location he wanted, and pulled them through after himself.
They arrived in a clean white room, the centerpiece of which was a pair of wire cages separated by a sinister looking contraption.
“Ross,” demanded Rose, worried, “are we really in Bolvangar? Are you really going to Intercise them?” The prospect was… worrying, to say the least.
“Yes,” said Ross, calmly, and loaded the Sue into one side of the contraption, and the Stu into the other. Carefully, then, he started up the apparatus. “Let’s see if it works.
The Sue and Stu came back to consciousness just in time to feel the ties that bound them sever.
With another manic grin, Ross pulled his fountain pen out of his pocket, and then grabbed the Stu by the collar, pulling him out. “Hello. I’m Ross. You, Hayden of Masbolle, are guilty of having a stupid name, causing havoc, asserting that Tortall and Middle-Earth could ever exist in the same continuum, and being a Gary Stu. For this, you are sentenced to death.” With that, Ross began to… write. He wrote I will not be a Gary-Stu across the offending boy’s throat. In blood. Carefully, slowly, with the utmost precision and near-Stu-like penmanship, Ross continued to write the same sentence over the body of the Stu, until the offending creature finally gave up and died.
“Good goddamn riddance,” muttered Ross, wiping his pen off and pulling the Sue, now in shock over seeing her twin murdered before her eyes, out of her cage.
Dialing in another location, Ross kicked the body of the Stu through before him, and stepped through, dragging the Sue after him.
The heat and strange lighting of the Crack of Doom made everything shimmer. “Kaylin of Masbolle, you are guilty of the following charges,” intoned Ross, the light of molten lava lending him an even more menacing appearance. “Misspelling ‘quartet’. Not being Arsed to look up the number of rings given to the dwarves. Creation of the Mini-Balrogs Darklord and Middle Earth. Creation of the Mini-Stormwing Cathrak. Inserting Grecian goddesses into pantheons where they have no business whatsoever. Claiming to be the daughter of Keladry of Mindelan. Causing Frodo, Gandalf, and Galadriel not to leave for the West. Causing Boromir to be alive. Causing Éowyn to leave her husband to go gallivanting off after you and your stupid ring. Causing an extra ring. Causing Tortall and Middle-Earth to be on the same world. Causing either Ilane or Keladry to be many thousands of years old for your logic to hold. Abruptly changing locations and points of view. Causing Many-Thousands-of-years-old Elves to act and speak like moody teens. Causing Gimli to be married. Changing the subject like a caffeinated Chihuahua. Causing Aragorn to whine about the responsibilities of being king. Causing Aragorn to be King of Middle Earth. Causing the characters of the Lord of the Rings to use modern slang. Forgetting about the existence of Elladan and Elrohir, AKA the El Twins, the Brothers of Arwen. Causing Aragorn to “Fallow”. Choosing really horrible nicknames for yourself and your brother and cousin. Cousin? While we’re at it, failing to define your relationship to one Chisakami. Choosing really horrible alii for you three as well. Somehow looking like you could be the fraternal twin to one who is half Yamani. And, last, but not least, being a Mary Sue.” With that, Ross stabbed the Sue through the chest with his sister’s fencing sabre, and used his foot to push her back off of it, and over the edge of the rock spur on which they stood, down, down, down into the lava below. Her body was quickly followed by that of her brother, and Ross turned and ran out into the free air.
Opening a portal back to their RC, he shoed the two Mini-Balrogs and Mini-Stormwing through, and looked around himself, sighing.
“Alright,” he said, and dialed in a portal directly back to FicPsych, and stepped through. “Dr. Freedenberg?” he asked the man standing with his back to him. “This is going to take a bit more than Bleeprin…”