Post by Agents Lothy and Rowyn on Jan 22, 2005 22:58:25 GMT -5
Disclaimer: We don't own anything except Lothy and Rowyn, because they're us. And, well, I guess technically we sort of own Faramin, because Miss Cam let Rowyn adopt him. A Darker Side of Light owns Taramir, which is fine because we don't want her.
BEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!
Lothy groaned. “Do the assignments always come this close together? We just got back!”
Rowyn moved her feet off the desk and put the book down. “Loth, do me a favor and get that pack of bacon out of the fridge? I should at least feed Faramin before we go out again.”
“Sure.” Rowyn could hear her rummaging through the fridge. “Since when did you have a mini anyway?”
“Since I came here… he arrived while we were gone though,” Rowyn answered. As if in answer, the mini-balrog poked his head out from under Rowyn’s desk. Rowyn patted his head absently as she leaned over to read the screen. “Ooh, we get to go to Middle-Earth this time!” she called out.
“Great,” Lothy said, shutting the refrigerator door. “I’m going to get a drink while I’m in here—you want anything?” Rowyn didn’t answer. Lothy shrugged and grabbed her Lothy shrugged and grabbed her Wild Cherry Pepsi from the fridge. When she walked back towards the console, Rowyn was staring at the screen, shock, horror and rage mingled on her face. “That bad?” she asked.
Rowyn slowly turned to face Lothy, a murderous gleam in her eyes. “This one’s mine,” she said in a carefully-controlled quiet voice.
“Okay…so who does the ‘Sue go after?”
“Faramir,” Rowyn answered. Lothy winced; if the look on her partner’s face was any indication, the ‘Sue was not going to meet a pretty end at all.
Rowyn quickly pulled out half the package of bacon and tossed it to Faramin, then began roughly shoving things into her satchel. “I hope you don’t get motion-sickness,” she said to Lothy, the angry tone still in her voice. “You wouldn’t believe the time-jumps in this thing. And did I mention that the ‘Sue is Faramir’s cousin? As in, she’s as closely related to him as Lothiríel is.”
“But weren’t the royals constantly marrying their cousins in the old days?” Lothy pointed out.
“Would you want Lothiríel to marry Faramir?” Rowyn shot back. “The point is, he’s supposed to be with Éowyn.”
“All right, enough already,” Lothy said, closing her bag. “Ready?”
Rowyn nodded, hit a few buttons, and they stepped through the portal.
The two agents emerged outside of a house where a woman was gushing about how beautiful her baby daughter was, and the man was complaining that she wasn’t a boy. He reluctantly agreed to train her as a warrior—“Just what we need, a Warrior!Sue,” Rowyn complained—and the world began spinning out of control.
When it finally stopped, Lothy blurted, “What in Eru’s name was that?”
“That,” Rowyn gasped, “was a jump 17 years ahead. And I’m sorry to say that I don’t think it’s the only one in this story.”
“Ugh… present tense,” Lothy said, looking at the words. “And her name is Taramir? I wonder how she came up with that one?” she added sarcastically as the ‘Sue’s maid yelled at her to come back and do her schoolwork.
“Narro lim, Felinor, narro lim!” I urge my horse.
The agents’ eyes widened. “That was supposed to be Sindarin?” Rowyn asked, writing something in her notebook. Taramir turned the horse around, and the scene shifted again slightly. When the surroundings settled, they were standing in a practice yard, where the ‘Sue quickly managed to do better than Boromir in fighting the weapons-master.
“Sure, she’s better at swordplay than the finest warrior of Gondor,” Lothy said sarcastically, just as the scene shifted again.
“What on earth is a Middle-man?” Rowyn wondered as the ‘Sue argued with her father about her parents’ impending trip to Imladris. For some reason, Boromir and Faramir were there. Boromir mocked Taramir for crying, while Faramir tried to reassure her…quite awkwardly, due to the shifting tenses. Then the story jerked forward yet again, though only a week this time.
Lothy looked a little green. “How many more of these do we have to deal with?”
Rowyn looked at the words and groaned. “Thirty-eight more bloody chapters, counting this one. There’s got to be a point we can skip ahead.” She grimaced, and added, “I hope.”
The two agents, now disguised as Guards of the Citadel, watched as the ‘Sue’s maid left her at the doors with the advice to greet the day with “a resounding smile.” They discreetly followed her inside to watch her hasty betrothal to her cousin.
Rowyn winced painfully at her characterization of Boromir. “He wouldn’t be smug about it!” she ranted. “Why does everyone think he’s this boorish, brainless jerk just because of that one little incident with the Ring? And he wouldn’t have gotten engaged anyway, according to Tolkien.” She muttered angrily under her breath as she pulled out her copy of ROTK and began flipping through the appendices.
Lothy pulled her out of the way as a serving maid approached the Sue and led her away. The agents followed at a distance.
“This is her room?” Lothy asked.
“Where would they get ivory to make all those chairs?” Rowyn queried, pointing at the eight ivory chairs ranged around an ebony table. Lothy rolled her eyes as Taramir flopped on the bed and began to wail about her rotten luck. A page knocked on the door, thankfully interrupting the Sue’s wails. Lothy pulled out her Character Analysis Device, carefully wrapping it in an old sock as they trailed after the page and Taramir.
“What’s that for?” Rowyn asked.
“Agent Jeanlily showed me,” Lothy replied. “She says it protects your hands from getting burned.”
“Oh,” Rowyn said.
“Yep.”
Rowyn blinked and rubbed her eyes as the Sue entered the throne room, then a flashback to the last time she’d done so played.
“Bloody spelling mistakes…” she muttered. As Denethor began to tell the ’Sue that her parents were dead, Lothy aimed the device at him. It began to smoke and beep frantically.
“Denethor, son of Ecthelion,” Lothy read. “Male. Canon. Out of Character 97. 13%.”
The Sue went through her little crying thing, and Denethor was cold and heartless.
“WHY do they make him evil?” Rowyn groused. “He’s not evil! Just slightly insane with a bad case of favoritism!”
“Of course, their primitive brains probably can’t tell the difference,” Lothy pointed out, adjusting the volume before she aimed the CAD at Boromir, who’d just entered. It beeped mutedly, and Lothy swore as the smell of singed sock arose.
“He’s OOC by 85.578 percent,” she said disgustedly. “I hate Sue writers.”
“You wouldn’t be here otherwise,” Rowyn pointed out. Lothy said nothing, glad that she’d calmed down enough to be sarcastic. They followed Taramir to her rooms, where Boromir told her that she had to dress in purple like he was going to at the banquet that night. Lothy gagged as the ’Sue pulled out a hideous purple dress covered in light blue embroidery.
Rowyn began scribbling again when Taramir called Faramir and tried to find out what he was wearing so that she could dress similarly to him instead of Boromir.
A small frown crosses his face. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid you’ll have to wear what Boromir does. I mean, to match. Tradition and all. To do otherwise would go against the laws of my father.” He says
“Laws of his father? His father didn’t make any bloody laws, especially fashion ones!” Rowyn muttered.
“Do we have to go to the bloody banquet?” Lothy asked.
“Nah, we can still add it to the charge list even if we’re asleep…I think.”
Lothy pulled out the rulebook and flipped through it.
“We can’t, we have to be at least watching the words.”
“Dang it!” Rowyn said.
“Here.” Lothy tossed Rowyn her Discman. “We may have to watch, but we don’t have to listen.” Rowyn grinned and turned on Evanescence’s Everybody’s Fool. Lothy grinned: the song was a favorite of the MS department PPCers. Rowyn hummed along, then softly sang the last verse.
Without the mask, where will you hide?
Can’t find yourself, lost in your lies!
I know the truth now, I know who you are
And I don’t love you anymore. It
Never was and never will be
You don’t know how you’ve betrayed me
And somehow you’ve got everybody fooled.
“Must be what they think after we kill the ’Sues,” Lothy commented. “That last verse.”
“Yeah,” Rowyn said. “It’d be what I’d feel like.”
Lothy put her headphones on and turned on Neil Diamond’s I’m a Believer as Boromir trod all over the ’Sue’s feet.
It was hours of agony, watching the ’Sue eat and dance with vaguely described partners amid dim surroundings not dignified with a description. Finally she went out onto a balcony, where Faramir followed and warned her that she was merely a pawn in ‘this cruel game to counter the strength of enemies and increase the strength of Gondor’.
“Did you bring the Bleeprin?” Rowyn asked, grimacing as she read the words.
“You know, that’s a really weird effect,” Lothy said, staring at the words.
“What?” Rowyn asked.
“The way we can see the words. It’s like somebody’s projecting a movie of the book onto the pages of the book.”
Rowyn glanced up. “True. Yet another miracle achieved by HQ. Can we portal ahead now?”
Lothy speed-read the next couple pages and shook her head.
“We’re at about chapter 8. We have to suffer through till chapter eleven at least. Then we can just portal to a couple more places until we have enough on the charge list to kill ’er.”
Rowyn grinned. It was not a pretty sight. It reminded Lothy of the cold predator’s grin that she’d seen on the face of Eol, the only recorded Dark Elf.
BEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!
Lothy groaned. “Do the assignments always come this close together? We just got back!”
Rowyn moved her feet off the desk and put the book down. “Loth, do me a favor and get that pack of bacon out of the fridge? I should at least feed Faramin before we go out again.”
“Sure.” Rowyn could hear her rummaging through the fridge. “Since when did you have a mini anyway?”
“Since I came here… he arrived while we were gone though,” Rowyn answered. As if in answer, the mini-balrog poked his head out from under Rowyn’s desk. Rowyn patted his head absently as she leaned over to read the screen. “Ooh, we get to go to Middle-Earth this time!” she called out.
“Great,” Lothy said, shutting the refrigerator door. “I’m going to get a drink while I’m in here—you want anything?” Rowyn didn’t answer. Lothy shrugged and grabbed her Lothy shrugged and grabbed her Wild Cherry Pepsi from the fridge. When she walked back towards the console, Rowyn was staring at the screen, shock, horror and rage mingled on her face. “That bad?” she asked.
Rowyn slowly turned to face Lothy, a murderous gleam in her eyes. “This one’s mine,” she said in a carefully-controlled quiet voice.
“Okay…so who does the ‘Sue go after?”
“Faramir,” Rowyn answered. Lothy winced; if the look on her partner’s face was any indication, the ‘Sue was not going to meet a pretty end at all.
Rowyn quickly pulled out half the package of bacon and tossed it to Faramin, then began roughly shoving things into her satchel. “I hope you don’t get motion-sickness,” she said to Lothy, the angry tone still in her voice. “You wouldn’t believe the time-jumps in this thing. And did I mention that the ‘Sue is Faramir’s cousin? As in, she’s as closely related to him as Lothiríel is.”
“But weren’t the royals constantly marrying their cousins in the old days?” Lothy pointed out.
“Would you want Lothiríel to marry Faramir?” Rowyn shot back. “The point is, he’s supposed to be with Éowyn.”
“All right, enough already,” Lothy said, closing her bag. “Ready?”
Rowyn nodded, hit a few buttons, and they stepped through the portal.
The two agents emerged outside of a house where a woman was gushing about how beautiful her baby daughter was, and the man was complaining that she wasn’t a boy. He reluctantly agreed to train her as a warrior—“Just what we need, a Warrior!Sue,” Rowyn complained—and the world began spinning out of control.
When it finally stopped, Lothy blurted, “What in Eru’s name was that?”
“That,” Rowyn gasped, “was a jump 17 years ahead. And I’m sorry to say that I don’t think it’s the only one in this story.”
“Ugh… present tense,” Lothy said, looking at the words. “And her name is Taramir? I wonder how she came up with that one?” she added sarcastically as the ‘Sue’s maid yelled at her to come back and do her schoolwork.
“Narro lim, Felinor, narro lim!” I urge my horse.
The agents’ eyes widened. “That was supposed to be Sindarin?” Rowyn asked, writing something in her notebook. Taramir turned the horse around, and the scene shifted again slightly. When the surroundings settled, they were standing in a practice yard, where the ‘Sue quickly managed to do better than Boromir in fighting the weapons-master.
“Sure, she’s better at swordplay than the finest warrior of Gondor,” Lothy said sarcastically, just as the scene shifted again.
“What on earth is a Middle-man?” Rowyn wondered as the ‘Sue argued with her father about her parents’ impending trip to Imladris. For some reason, Boromir and Faramir were there. Boromir mocked Taramir for crying, while Faramir tried to reassure her…quite awkwardly, due to the shifting tenses. Then the story jerked forward yet again, though only a week this time.
Lothy looked a little green. “How many more of these do we have to deal with?”
Rowyn looked at the words and groaned. “Thirty-eight more bloody chapters, counting this one. There’s got to be a point we can skip ahead.” She grimaced, and added, “I hope.”
The two agents, now disguised as Guards of the Citadel, watched as the ‘Sue’s maid left her at the doors with the advice to greet the day with “a resounding smile.” They discreetly followed her inside to watch her hasty betrothal to her cousin.
Rowyn winced painfully at her characterization of Boromir. “He wouldn’t be smug about it!” she ranted. “Why does everyone think he’s this boorish, brainless jerk just because of that one little incident with the Ring? And he wouldn’t have gotten engaged anyway, according to Tolkien.” She muttered angrily under her breath as she pulled out her copy of ROTK and began flipping through the appendices.
Lothy pulled her out of the way as a serving maid approached the Sue and led her away. The agents followed at a distance.
“This is her room?” Lothy asked.
“Where would they get ivory to make all those chairs?” Rowyn queried, pointing at the eight ivory chairs ranged around an ebony table. Lothy rolled her eyes as Taramir flopped on the bed and began to wail about her rotten luck. A page knocked on the door, thankfully interrupting the Sue’s wails. Lothy pulled out her Character Analysis Device, carefully wrapping it in an old sock as they trailed after the page and Taramir.
“What’s that for?” Rowyn asked.
“Agent Jeanlily showed me,” Lothy replied. “She says it protects your hands from getting burned.”
“Oh,” Rowyn said.
“Yep.”
Rowyn blinked and rubbed her eyes as the Sue entered the throne room, then a flashback to the last time she’d done so played.
“Bloody spelling mistakes…” she muttered. As Denethor began to tell the ’Sue that her parents were dead, Lothy aimed the device at him. It began to smoke and beep frantically.
“Denethor, son of Ecthelion,” Lothy read. “Male. Canon. Out of Character 97. 13%.”
The Sue went through her little crying thing, and Denethor was cold and heartless.
“WHY do they make him evil?” Rowyn groused. “He’s not evil! Just slightly insane with a bad case of favoritism!”
“Of course, their primitive brains probably can’t tell the difference,” Lothy pointed out, adjusting the volume before she aimed the CAD at Boromir, who’d just entered. It beeped mutedly, and Lothy swore as the smell of singed sock arose.
“He’s OOC by 85.578 percent,” she said disgustedly. “I hate Sue writers.”
“You wouldn’t be here otherwise,” Rowyn pointed out. Lothy said nothing, glad that she’d calmed down enough to be sarcastic. They followed Taramir to her rooms, where Boromir told her that she had to dress in purple like he was going to at the banquet that night. Lothy gagged as the ’Sue pulled out a hideous purple dress covered in light blue embroidery.
Rowyn began scribbling again when Taramir called Faramir and tried to find out what he was wearing so that she could dress similarly to him instead of Boromir.
A small frown crosses his face. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid you’ll have to wear what Boromir does. I mean, to match. Tradition and all. To do otherwise would go against the laws of my father.” He says
“Laws of his father? His father didn’t make any bloody laws, especially fashion ones!” Rowyn muttered.
“Do we have to go to the bloody banquet?” Lothy asked.
“Nah, we can still add it to the charge list even if we’re asleep…I think.”
Lothy pulled out the rulebook and flipped through it.
“We can’t, we have to be at least watching the words.”
“Dang it!” Rowyn said.
“Here.” Lothy tossed Rowyn her Discman. “We may have to watch, but we don’t have to listen.” Rowyn grinned and turned on Evanescence’s Everybody’s Fool. Lothy grinned: the song was a favorite of the MS department PPCers. Rowyn hummed along, then softly sang the last verse.
Without the mask, where will you hide?
Can’t find yourself, lost in your lies!
I know the truth now, I know who you are
And I don’t love you anymore. It
Never was and never will be
You don’t know how you’ve betrayed me
And somehow you’ve got everybody fooled.
“Must be what they think after we kill the ’Sues,” Lothy commented. “That last verse.”
“Yeah,” Rowyn said. “It’d be what I’d feel like.”
Lothy put her headphones on and turned on Neil Diamond’s I’m a Believer as Boromir trod all over the ’Sue’s feet.
It was hours of agony, watching the ’Sue eat and dance with vaguely described partners amid dim surroundings not dignified with a description. Finally she went out onto a balcony, where Faramir followed and warned her that she was merely a pawn in ‘this cruel game to counter the strength of enemies and increase the strength of Gondor’.
“Did you bring the Bleeprin?” Rowyn asked, grimacing as she read the words.
“You know, that’s a really weird effect,” Lothy said, staring at the words.
“What?” Rowyn asked.
“The way we can see the words. It’s like somebody’s projecting a movie of the book onto the pages of the book.”
Rowyn glanced up. “True. Yet another miracle achieved by HQ. Can we portal ahead now?”
Lothy speed-read the next couple pages and shook her head.
“We’re at about chapter 8. We have to suffer through till chapter eleven at least. Then we can just portal to a couple more places until we have enough on the charge list to kill ’er.”
Rowyn grinned. It was not a pretty sight. It reminded Lothy of the cold predator’s grin that she’d seen on the face of Eol, the only recorded Dark Elf.