Slash
Merry/Pippin/Boromir/Aragorn/Legolas
Summary: The kind of Mary Sue fic we'd like to see…
Disclaimer: Nuttiness.
***
Sam rummaged in his pack, feeling the blush rise in his cheeks as he realized that nowhere amongst all his gear had he thought to bring a handkerchief. He hadn't quite expected this sort of a thing, and it was with a small and somewhat sheepish smile that he held out the a scrap of rag he'd brought along in case some incidental scratch needed binding.
Alyndel Moonstar's long, slender fingers took it from his work-rough hand with the same effortless grace that flowed so sweet in all her movements, dabbing delicately at the crystal tears gemmed at the corners of her deep violet eyes. "I don't understand, Sam."
Despite the tremours of grief and bewilderment, her voice was the music of angels, rich with authority and wisdom, and Sam patted the taut thigh of the half-Elven warrior maid tenderly. "It's all right, Miss. I don't reckon they meant you any harm."
She blew her nose perfectly, her eyes somehow unreddened by her tears and the flawless porcelain skin of her heart-shaped face prettily blushed rather than messily mottled. "But they should love me! I took the blade for Frodo on Weathertop, I caught the dwarf Pippin knocked against before it could fall down the hole, I rescued you all from the Balrog, and the Wargs...I even used my magic arts to melt the snow on Caradhras when Aragorn and Boromir became fatigued. I play thirty-four musical instruments, I speak every language in Middle Earth and beyond, I'm a poet, an expert lover even though I'm a virgin, a better marksman than Legolas, better swordsman than Aragorn, and when they invent standardized clothing sizes in the Fourth Age, I'll be a perfect size six!"
Sam squirmed slightly. He was a simple hobbit, but it seemed to him that such a rather intimidating list of virtues might have been a bit of the problem. Surely, though, that couldn't be it. "Maybe it's not as bad as
you think."
"Not as bad as I think! Sam, even my perfect vision couldn't figure out which arms and legs belonged to whom! There was clothing everywhere! How can it not be as bad as I thought. Aragorn, Legolas, Boromir, Merry, and Pippin were..." Her eyes narrowed, her thick lashes fanning over the soft skin of her cheeks. "You know. Elfhoods and manhoods and hobbithoods..."
The hobbit regarded her with wide, innocent eyes. "Doing what?"
"You mean whom! I think it was Merry doing Pippin doing Boromir doing Aragorn doing Legolas, but I'm not sure."
"And where was Mr. Frodo during all this? Not that my motives are anything less than pure of course, being as I'm plain and plump and thus couldn't possibly have lustful thoughts of my own."
Alyndel smiled like the sun itself, petting Sam affectionately on the head. "No, of course not, little Sam. He was off brooding about the Ring. He does that so beautifully."
Sam sighed deeply, a faraway look to his eyes. Alyndil thought for a moment that his hand almost wandered near his groin, but of course, she knew she had to be imagining it. "Aye, that he does, Miss." He blinked quickly and looked away, suddenly restless. "Um...perhaps I might be looking after him now. Can't have him wandering off, you know."
She stood as he did, her lithe body shapely and elegant as a convenient breeze fluttered her cloak and waist-length red curls dramatically. "I shall go with you."
"No!" Sam fumbled a moment with the straps of his pack, but she lifted the heavy, awkward bundle as though it were a feather and settled it easily on his back. "It's just, I think Mr. Frodo might be best with just one visitor right now, seeing how he seems to be wanting solitude. Maybe you could try your hand at a dramatic rescue or a psychic revelation to distract the others? And if that doesn't work, I might be so bold as to say you might think of a beautiful and teary death scene? Makes them right appriciate you dear for being gone if naught else, and you could always do one of them reincarnation things once they've missed you proper."
Alyndel clapped her hands gleefully. "Oh, yes! That would be just the thing. Thank you, Sam, I'm sure that will take fine care of it."
Sam's reply came over his shoulder as he scurried off with surprising haste. "You're most welcome!"
The End
Merry/Pippin/Boromir/Aragorn/Legolas
Summary: The kind of Mary Sue fic we'd like to see…
Disclaimer: Nuttiness.
***
Sam rummaged in his pack, feeling the blush rise in his cheeks as he realized that nowhere amongst all his gear had he thought to bring a handkerchief. He hadn't quite expected this sort of a thing, and it was with a small and somewhat sheepish smile that he held out the a scrap of rag he'd brought along in case some incidental scratch needed binding.
Alyndel Moonstar's long, slender fingers took it from his work-rough hand with the same effortless grace that flowed so sweet in all her movements, dabbing delicately at the crystal tears gemmed at the corners of her deep violet eyes. "I don't understand, Sam."
Despite the tremours of grief and bewilderment, her voice was the music of angels, rich with authority and wisdom, and Sam patted the taut thigh of the half-Elven warrior maid tenderly. "It's all right, Miss. I don't reckon they meant you any harm."
She blew her nose perfectly, her eyes somehow unreddened by her tears and the flawless porcelain skin of her heart-shaped face prettily blushed rather than messily mottled. "But they should love me! I took the blade for Frodo on Weathertop, I caught the dwarf Pippin knocked against before it could fall down the hole, I rescued you all from the Balrog, and the Wargs...I even used my magic arts to melt the snow on Caradhras when Aragorn and Boromir became fatigued. I play thirty-four musical instruments, I speak every language in Middle Earth and beyond, I'm a poet, an expert lover even though I'm a virgin, a better marksman than Legolas, better swordsman than Aragorn, and when they invent standardized clothing sizes in the Fourth Age, I'll be a perfect size six!"
Sam squirmed slightly. He was a simple hobbit, but it seemed to him that such a rather intimidating list of virtues might have been a bit of the problem. Surely, though, that couldn't be it. "Maybe it's not as bad as
you think."
"Not as bad as I think! Sam, even my perfect vision couldn't figure out which arms and legs belonged to whom! There was clothing everywhere! How can it not be as bad as I thought. Aragorn, Legolas, Boromir, Merry, and Pippin were..." Her eyes narrowed, her thick lashes fanning over the soft skin of her cheeks. "You know. Elfhoods and manhoods and hobbithoods..."
The hobbit regarded her with wide, innocent eyes. "Doing what?"
"You mean whom! I think it was Merry doing Pippin doing Boromir doing Aragorn doing Legolas, but I'm not sure."
"And where was Mr. Frodo during all this? Not that my motives are anything less than pure of course, being as I'm plain and plump and thus couldn't possibly have lustful thoughts of my own."
Alyndel smiled like the sun itself, petting Sam affectionately on the head. "No, of course not, little Sam. He was off brooding about the Ring. He does that so beautifully."
Sam sighed deeply, a faraway look to his eyes. Alyndil thought for a moment that his hand almost wandered near his groin, but of course, she knew she had to be imagining it. "Aye, that he does, Miss." He blinked quickly and looked away, suddenly restless. "Um...perhaps I might be looking after him now. Can't have him wandering off, you know."
She stood as he did, her lithe body shapely and elegant as a convenient breeze fluttered her cloak and waist-length red curls dramatically. "I shall go with you."
"No!" Sam fumbled a moment with the straps of his pack, but she lifted the heavy, awkward bundle as though it were a feather and settled it easily on his back. "It's just, I think Mr. Frodo might be best with just one visitor right now, seeing how he seems to be wanting solitude. Maybe you could try your hand at a dramatic rescue or a psychic revelation to distract the others? And if that doesn't work, I might be so bold as to say you might think of a beautiful and teary death scene? Makes them right appriciate you dear for being gone if naught else, and you could always do one of them reincarnation things once they've missed you proper."
Alyndel clapped her hands gleefully. "Oh, yes! That would be just the thing. Thank you, Sam, I'm sure that will take fine care of it."
Sam's reply came over his shoulder as he scurried off with surprising haste. "You're most welcome!"
The End