Mouse: Step right up folks, and see today's feature event!
Kitty: *runs away*
M: Right this way, we've got a gem of a 'Sue by...um....IsilAri. Though why that A needs capitalization is beyond me
K: I think it needs capitalization because it's the first letter in another name
M: So she has multiple personalities now, or is she merely two-headed?
K: Or at least two-faced.
M: *shakes head sadly* You can't trust these Suethors, you just get your heart broken...
K: Not if you name your heart...

The Heart is Victor

M: I prefer Viktor, actually.
K: You always need to spell things funny. Victor is a good, solid name.
M: Though if we're going to be choosy, I like Nick.
K: Sure you wouldn't rather it were "Nyk"?
M: Viktor is the Russian spelling, thank you very much.

A/N: This is the first fanfic I have put up so I am open for ideas.

M: Is this like one of those Choose Your Own Adventure stories?
K: Here's an idea: write well.
M: I always hated those. I could never find the right page and I was always lost....and anyway, they never gave me the choices I would have made
K: I know!
M: They were always like, "do you push the button or pull the lever?" and I totally would've flipped the switch.
K: And they never even offer the option of walking away from the haunted carnival and going out for ice cream instead.
M: Or at least cinnamon rolls.
K: And then I can just see it: "The ice cream store is closed, do you break in with a rock or pick the lock?" never "I guess you just go home and watch movies."
M: What, you don't pick locks?
K: I would pick the rock.
M: That sets off alarms, man. You gotta learn lock-picking.You can't be a proper ice-cream lover without that skill.

Disclaimer: I do not I own Lord of the Rings, Tolkein does but that’s OK.

M: *falls off chair* YOU DON'T OWN LOTR?!
K: It's nice of you to tell him it's OK. He has issues about that, needs reassurance.
M: That's it. I want my money back. This is false advertising
K: Wait...you *paid* for this?!
M: Well...um...no.
K: You had me worried there.
M: But I demand reparations for my time and pain.
K: Ah, yes. Reparations! Reparations! *makes a sign and walks in circles*
M: *gets out the bullhorn*

I own only characters and beings not recognized from any of his books.

K: Recognized by whom?
M: I don't think we'll *recognize* any of them in this story. Fanfiction tends to mangle them too badly.
K: And when you say "you", which head are you talking about? Isil or Ari?
M: Inquiring minds need to know!
K: She really should use the royal "we". Though in her case it has nothing to do with royalty; it'd just be less confusing.
M: So, for clarity's sake, we'll be changing any further usage of the word "I" to "we."

And Hen is pronounced Hayn and Arnen is Quenyan for ‘beside water’

K: Hens, her way!
M: Hens my way involves garlic and rosemary.
K: I'm picturing a Sue trying to wear a chicken as underwear.
M: *winces* Ugh, way to share that mental image.
K: It was already too late for you, you know that.
M: I know there was no saving my sanity, but you could have at least tried to keep me semi-coherent until the end of the story.

Nessa Seler
(young sister)

K: What's a Nessa, and why's her younger sister selling them?
M: No, not young*er* sister. Just young sister.
K: I say we head over to a Tolkien fansite to verify this...."elvish."
M: Oh yay, it's in Quenya. With really bad grammar.
K: But Elves don't *use* Quenya. It's like Old English or Latin or something.
M: Well...I suppose it was a title. Lots of people use Latin titles when they want to sound pretentious, you know. Maybe we should do this MST's title in Latin?
K: What would be a good Latin name for a 'Sue? Glutius maximus minimus?
M: I don't think it matters...her Quenya is completely off grammatically, so we could just make crap up.

Golden sunlight broke through the jade leaves to the floor of the wood.

K: *fixes the leaves*
M: It was a struggle, but eventually the light managed to get through after it figured out how to use the sledgehammer. It wasn't very bright sunlight.
K: Really, what did those jade leaves ever do to it, though?
M: *shakes head sadly* They were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Victims of circumstance.
K: Well, now there are shards of jade *all over* our nice wood floor.
M: Well, we would have a RUG on the floor if not for...but let's not bring that up again, mm?
K: No, let's not.
M: *moves on hurriedly*

Symphonies of birdsong sporadically broke out highlighting the unusual beauty of the morning.

M: It was an unusually pretty morning, because even the weather has to bow to a 'Sue.
K: Whole *symphonies*, huh?
M: Yep. Visual ones, apparently. They work just like highlighters.
K: Now there are neon yellow stripes everywhere.
M: But only sporadically.
K: Right. Very splotchy effect - looks terribly amateur.
M: Then again, I suppose we can't blame her - it must be hard to keep your highlighting even when you have a chicken in your pants.
K: But *she's* not doing any highlighting at all, it's the symphonies. Their pants are hen-free. Commando.
M: I hope they're wearing thick pants.

The mighty voice of Bruinen converses with the gentle whispering of the west wind.

M: So the river is yelling at the wind? How odd.
K: They aren't conversing, their *voices* are.
M: They don't say "the Bruinen" - just "Bruinen." Is this a person named Bruinen then?
K: That was my assumption.
M: Hunh. Dunno what his parents were thinking...it's like naming your kid Nile or Mississippi or something.
K: My first daughter's going to be named Amazon.
M: Sounds like she’s destined to be a shopkeeper. She and my first daughter, Thames, can be bestest friends.
K: And grow up to be beautiful Sues, adored by all?
M: No, your daughter should be a shopkeeper. It's her destiny. She can run a walmart.
K: I don't know if she's cut out for that, I suspect she won't be very friendly. You know, the whole murderous, tribal, burning-off-body-parts deal kind of comes with the title....
M: She'll just get really good prices, that's all.

Elanor and niphredil cast their perfume into the air causing it the wooded oasis to shimmer with their sweet scents.

M: That is a seriously bizarre mental image I'm getting here. Okay, so we've got the flowers. And they're throwing perfume around.
K: They're tossing up bottles of perfume?
M: And the perfume is, apparently, glittery, cos it's making everything "shimmer."
K: At least, everything in the oasis is shimmering. But not from the intense heat that would come from their apparent location in the middle of a desert; it's from the shuper shparkly perfume.
M: Right. And the scent is "sweet," so I'm guessing it's vanilla or something.
K: I don't think ME really has deserts, per se, so clearly we aren't there yet.
M: Scene: Wooded oasis, middle of desert, location unknown. Various flowers are throwing bottles of glittery vanilla perfume in all directions.
K: And commando'd symphonies are highlighting at random.
M: Yes. And some guy named Bruinen is yelling at the wind.
K: While our yet-undiscovered Sue tries to wear a chicken.
M: Yeah, she's late for her entrance...must be having trouble with the costume.

Among the beauty a soul sought solitude.

K: It's Candy's. Got away from the pound.
M: I wasn't aware that beauty was plural.
K: *stabbities the "among" until it turns into an "amidst"* There, all better.
M: Stabbitying solves everything

Aragorn, foster-son of Elrond, had returned yesterday to Rivendell from a stay at Lothlorien.

M: .....Candy = Aragorn?
K: Well, I don't recognize him.
M: Or is Aragorn's arrival some random, unrelated event?
K: Maybe Candy's soul infected Aragorn, possessing him and thereby indirectly turning him into the author's property (since we don't recognize him).
M: I have a feeling the author is going to end up owning a lot in this story.

Today, though, it seemed he could not stay focused.

M: *nods in sympathy* Candy's soul takes you that way. You should really see about getting rid of it.
K: Send it into the chicken.
M: So the two-headed author is going to have a soul-infested chicken in her pants?
K: Better than letting Aragorn suffer.
M: Hmm, true. Overall, I think I care more about Aragorn's happiness than the 'Sue's.

Frustrated and distracted, he began to wander the woods beside Bruinen.

M: Aww, Aragorn and Bruinen are friends!
K: Don't listen to him, Aragorn!
M: Why not? Is he two-faced like IsilAri?
K: He's one of her spies.
M: Oh dear. She's got minions now?

His mind chose to dwell upon the reason for his stay at Lothlorien, Arwen Undomiel.

K: My mind would leave, too.
M: He kept trying to distract it with Bruinen, but it was terribly insistent. Clearly his mind knew something he didn't.
K: It's nice how his brain makes choices totally independently of him.
M: How exactly does Arwen count as a reason for a visit to Lothlorien, anyway?
K: He's, um, taking her for a visit...over the river and through the woods, to grandmother's house we go!
M: I hate that song so very, very much.
K: *starts humming softly*
M: If you sing it again I will hang you by your toenails from the ceiling
K: *opens mouth to sing*
M: Bad Kitty! Bad!
K: *hides* . . .*hums from secret hiding place*
M: Don't make me break out the mpreg fic.
K: I'll be good! I'll be good!

Deep in thought it was a wonder he heard the tiny cry from a small gathering of flowers.

K: Those flowers have to stick together, for protection from the symphonies, the chickens, Bruinen...this is a very dangerous place!
M: And one of them is crying, poor thing. I think I'd cry too, if there were chickens and souls and highlighter-wielding symphonies flying about.
K: I wonder if Aragorn stepped on them, and that's why one started crying.
M: At least they've got bottles of perfume to fight back with.
K: Maybe the sunlight's on their side, too. Dim as it may be, it'd be a powerful ally with that hammer.

Curious, he turned from his path to find the source of the voice.

M: The oasis is apparently a tourist attraction - it's got paths and everything
K: Hadn't we already determined the source of the voice to be a small gathering of flowers?
M: That was my impression.
K: It's a good thing he was on *his* path, by the way. Galadriel is very touchy about people walking on hers.
M: Each major character gets their own path - over to the left is the Eowyn path, and next to it is the Denethor path…Legolas had one, but the others got fed up with the 'Sues and gave it to Grima.
K: Merry and Pippin have to share a path...it always seems to be that way.
M: Hobbits always get the short end of the stick, I tell you
K: I never understood how a stick could have a short end...
M: Um. It's a forked stick. Like a wishbone.
K: Still doesn't make sense to me...wouldn't that be a *side* of the stick, not an end of it?
M: *ignores* Next sentence, please!

When he got to the bank of Bruinen he saw under an ancient, sturdy tree that a young child sat crying.

M: And now we discover that Bruinen is actually the banker of Wooded Oasis, which is a much more successful attraction than we'd previously thought.
K: Why is there a tree in the bank? Do they use leaves as currency?
M: They are jade leaves. Jade commands a pretty good price.
K: They'd better keep the sunlight away from the bank, then...
M: The sunlight specializes in commercial warfare.
K: Destroy a country's economic welfare, and you're set.

Aragorn hesitantly bent over and picked the little one up.

M: Little one? Little what? Is he stealing the jade leaves?
K: The little flower, of course. The one he stepped on and made cry.
M: Oh. That Aragorn's a meanie-head, making flowers cry.
K: But it's better than him being a thief, I suppose.

He saw it was a girl no more than three-year-old.


M: …I....um.....
K: Does not compute.
M: Error! Error!
K: *fixes:* "A girl no more intelligent than a three-year-old."
M: Which explains why she's trying to wear a chicken.
K: "But mommy, it has such pretty feathers! I want pretty feathers!"
M: I wonder if wearing chicken-underwear lets you lay eggs.
K: *thwaps* Moving on! Before this mental imagery gets any worse.

Her midnight hair was quite full for one so small.

M: Her noon hair, on the other hand, is totally empty.
K: And unfortunately, it's the middle of the day right now, so she's bald.
M: Yikes.
K: Wait! She only has ONE HAIR!
M: ...which is full. But full of what?
K: One hair between her two heads. It connects them, like a cable.
M: Um...full of chicken?
K: Maybe it’s full of that perfume.
M: I want a bottle of that perfume.
K: Yes, that's it. That's how she was able to disguise herself as one of the flowers.
M: I'm so confused.

A round, golden face streaked with tears looked up at him and she stopped her crying.

M: She stopped crying because she didn't like other people looking at her prey. She was territorial that way.
K: Ah! She sprouted another face!
M: Well, she is an author-avatar, so of course she needs two heads too. Complete with the connecting hair.

Aragorn gasped for her eyes were a wonder to behold.

K: I would gasp too. But not for her eyes, just for myself.
M: Yeah, I'm selfish and don't like gasping for others. It's kind of a personal thing, you know?
K: It really is.

Liquid pools of gold rimmed with a grey almost silver shined with unshed tears.

M: She has molten metal on her face. Ow.
K: She might as well shed the tears, they're not doing her any good.
M: They're certainly not quenching the metal.
K: On a more serious note, gold and silver eyes is so completely not attractive.
M: Honestly. If you're going to give her Sue-eyes, make 'em pretty at least.
K: Not downright creepy-lookin'.

A laugh escaped from her lips and she smiled a small smile.

M: So her lips are a laugh-prison. She tries to keep them in, but they're very determined to live in freedom, and you can't hold them back forever.
K: It's good that she's smiling a smile, though. I'd be worried if she were smiling a frown, or a grimace like she usually does.
M: Those big scowls she usually smiles are kind of disturbing, really.

Aragorn’s heart was immediately taken by the little girl in his arms.

K: Ow!
M: Is this, by any chance, Lisa-Sue's little sister? I seem to remember her collecting hearts too.
K: I'm still awaiting mention of the pouch...is it strapped to the chicken?
M: No, silly, she's wearing the chicken, not riding it.
K: Well, people strap things to their belts...
M: I don't know anybody who straps things to their underwear.

Kissing the crown of her head he began to gently question her.

K: She's got a crown already, huh? Must not look very nice...
M: She is a 'Sue. Crowns are prerequisites.
K: I wonder which head it's on...
M: It's on the left head. The right one has a red baseball cap.
K: She had to cut a hole in it for her hair to go through.
M: Which, really, just ruins a good baseball cap. She should've gotten a tiara or something.
K: Coulda stolen Elrond's.
M: He does have a very nice tiara.

“What is your name?”

M: Isil.
K: Ari
M: And together, we're.....*thundering superhero voice* ISILARI!
K: *thundering superhero voice*A big fat sue!
M: *strikes pose* Defenders of chicken-underwear, small flowers, and sunlight everywhere!

he asked while setting her down on the ground and kneeling before her.

M: I so totally don't recognize Aragorn. At all.
K: Well, then it's official, he belongs to the author now.
M: Can I make Boromir out of character and own him? I can think of a few things I'd like to do with Boromir if I owned him.
K: Only if I can have Eomer. And I don't know about you, but I rarely kneel to the same people as I pick up.
M: Well, you know, he had to pick her up before he knelt to her, because...um....Okay, it doesn't make any sense to me. But I'm sure there's a logical reason.
K: Maybe she was covered in the glitter-perfume, and he had to shake her off?

“I don’t remember my name,”

M: Ah, Amnesia-Sue. The creativity astounds.
K: Actually this is rather common among three-year-olds, and people who are less intelligent than three-year-olds. I had a kid one time cry through is whole class because he forgot his name, and he was *four*.
M: Well, I suppose that's true. My little brother used to be a right pain in the neck during family photos, cos he'd "forget how to smile."

she answered with an honest, musical voice.

M: *snigger*
K: Well, it's nice to know her voice is honest...
M: It's only to be expected when one is two-faced; they always seem honest at first. But they're LIARS! They lie and they gossip and and and - *wail*
K: But their *voices*, those are honest. When they can get past the lips of doom.
M: *sniffle* that's what makes the whole thing so underhanded. It's awful knowing that those poor honest voices are trapped behind lying lips and weird multicolored eyes.
K: There there, it'll all be alright. We can even tell when she's honest and when she lies; her honest voice is musical. She can only sing the truth.
M: So when she's telling the truth she starts singing? And no, Kitty, I will not play that song. We do not pander to your Moulin Rouge addiction here.
K: You seem to be forgetting where "here" is.
M: Next time we're so MSTing at my house.
K: Nevah! I'm allergic to that place.

This answer surprised Aragorn but expertly he hid it and went on,

M: "Aragorn but expertly"?
K: It...surprised him, but expertly?
M: Is but a verb?
K: It surprised Aragorn's butt expertly?
M: Answer/Aragorn = OTP!
K: I can see why he hid it, though....not good for the dignity of a future king to get goosed by an answer.
M: Not at all. *doesn't comment on what he's hiding it with*

“Where are your parents, child?”

M: Parents? What parents? 'Sues spring fully formed from Hell.
K: She's a *flower*, Mouse. She *grew* from an evil *seed*.
M: But I thought she was just *disguised* as a flower and was actually....oh, never mind. Clearly Aragorn's failing his Ranger classes if he's this clueless in botany.
K: Not to mention Sueology.
M: Poor Aragorn's brain has been eroded by his new owner.

“I don’t know,” was her quiet reply.

M: She's lying! She wasn't singing!
K: See the quietness? It's her lips restraining the truth!
M: Don't fall for it, Aragorn!
K: In other news, I want to know when she's going to tell us whose heart is named Victor.
M: Details like this are important.
K: Could be vital to the story.
M: Then again, when do the titles of Sue-stories have anything to do with their contents?

Aragorn was dismayed to hear this news.

K: It's not really news.
M: Not dismayed enough, apparently. Why is he still here? Why isn't he running?
K: I would.
M: You have several times, if I recall correctly.
K: *blushes*

She had no memory of her name

K: I thought we'd established that already...
M: *snerk* Yeah, and if you believe that one I've got one of Tolkien's toes to sell you.
K: I thought Candy ate that...
M: Nah, we traded it for her soul. But I figure, if we give the soul back the toe belongs to us again. Right?
K: Right.

(which was odd to say the least)

K: In these fics, actually, it's quite common.
M: And when faced with a two-headed flower-girl with a chicken in her pants, it's pretty normal, really.
K: Downright boring.
M: Kind of odd that he chose to comment on the whole amnesia thing when there are much stranger things going on.

and she did not know where her parents were.

K: Also fairly normal. They'll probably turn out to be, oh, Sauron and Sarumon.
M: Eew, slashy. How would that work, anyway?
K: The mechanics of this are not something I care to explain.
M: You know, I've never even heard of Sauron/Saruman slash, which is fairly surprising...I've heard just about every other pairing. I wonder why that is.
K: The Suethors never realized they were separate people?
M: There we go.

‘She is a daughter of Man, so it is unlikely that her parents are in Lothlorien.

M: I thought she was a flower. Since when do flowers look like people?
K: And since when are humans not capable of surviving in Lothlorien? Is it like human-repellant poison?
M: (as Aragorn) Must...use....logic... 'Sue....overcoming....brain....

But where will I take her?

M: Back to the fiery chasm from whence it came!
K: That depends entirely on where she wants to go. She's bound to end up somewhere if only you throw her hard enough.
M: *thwaps Kitty, hard* What have I told you about quoting Lewis Carroll?
K: That wasn't *quoting*, it was just sort of...vaguely alluding.
M: Cut it out. It makes me realize just how bad what we're reading is.
K: Sowwy. *climbs back down the rabbit hole*

She must be cared for until her parents find and claim her.

M: That's what the Lost and Found is for, doofus.
K: Or for 60 days, after which point the claims desk will throw her out.
M: They had to make that rule, or airport Lost and Found offices would be so full of 'Sues you wouldn't be able to breathe for the sparkliness.
K: Let alone the perfume.
M: They have to wear gas masks for that anyway...there seems to be an overwhelming odor of strawberry in there. Elegant strawberry.
K: *looks for wolves*

She can’t possibly go with me to Rivendell…or can she?’

M: ...
K: ...
M: Did she....
K: I think she did.
M: She couldn't possibly have though.
K: Oh, and just that fast.
M: I knew this was bad, but that....that was like a blow upside the head. With a brick.
K: Like a slice of lemon wrapped around a large gold brick.
M: NO QUALITY LITERATURE!
K: But, but, I can only take this stuff if I water it down with the good stuff...
M: *shudder* How can you take the comparison? Doesn't it incapacitate your brain?
K: My brain is easily distracted. That's the point of it.
M: Moving on.

Standing, Aragorn took her little hand in his.

M: Oh, THERE's Aragorn! I was wondering when he was going to make an appearance. Tearing off the hand of a 'Sue is a good way to make an entrance.
K: ...took her little hand in his...MOUTH! It's werewolf!Aragorn, here to devour the Sue!
M: Here, have some ketchup...d'you want some salt? We live to serve.

“How would you like to stay with the elves for a time, little one?”

K: They look hungry.
M: They have a spare room...it's got some spiders and some dust, but it's got nice bars on the windows, to keep the bad things out.
K: Dude, who finds a three-year-old who can't remember where her parents are and just TAKES them?
M: They're probably like 20 feet away taking a...decoration.
K: Nah, when he sees a 'Sue that blatant, he figures her parents were trying to get rid of her and acts accordingly.
M: I don't know, there's clearly a river nearby, and he definitely hasn't thrown her in yet, so I don't think he qualifies.
K: Maybe he's just pretending to be taken in? He could be just lulling her into a false sense of security...I mean, she's a 'Sue, so even at three she could probably kill him with his own sword. He has to take her by surprise.
M: Ah, good point

And the solitary soul left the wood not so solitary anymore.

M: I . . . have no idea what to say to that.
K: I really picture a little kid sticking their thumbs in their ears hear and saying "Nyah nyan, not so solitary any more, am I?"
M: Is this picture of a kid who doesn't know the meaning of the term "solitary"?
K: Yes. And who the bigger kids were making fun of for it.
M: I don't understand how you can be "less" solitary.
K: By losing at solitaire, obviously.
M: Oh. Well, that makes sense then.

2 months later

M: You mean we SKIPPED two months' worth of Sue-life?!
K: I'm not going to complain about that line on the basis of the fact that it represents 2 months we don't have to read about.
M: You can't DO that! Every moment of a Sue's time must be carefully scrutinized with voyeuristic attention to detail!
K: Mouse! Don't encourage them!
M: Well darnit, if they're going to make rules they should have to abide by them.

“Hen ( child ), Lord Elrond has asked that you come to his study,”

M: Elrond is talking to her underwear?
K: She's wearing a CHILD?!
M: Maybe it's a really young chicken? Just hatched?
M: . . . which somehow manages to escalate the "ew" factor.
K: By a lot
M: On another note, the Elves aren't very creative in their name-scheme, are they?
K: She's been there 2 months and they still call her "Hey kid"?
M: I was talking about the silliness of calling the chicken "hen," but that's a point too.
K: I understand she forgot her name and all, but . . .

Gilraen said peeking into Hen’s room.

K: It's the hen's room, they just let the kid stay in there.
M: I never knew Gilraen had such intense comma issues. No wonder she died so young.
K: I should point out to you that I'm only avoiding reference to "Breakfast at Tiffany's" right now for *your* sake.
M: Thank you. I appreciate your suffering for my sake.
K: You'd better. *suffers*

Hen, for that is what the elves had begun to call her,

M: They take much more interest in the chicken-underwear than in the kid, I see.
K: Oh *I* get it now. They didn't know her name, but she's the only person they'd ever seen wearing a chicken for undies, so they named her for it.
M: That's...very odd. It's like calling a kid "Pony" because she wears My Little Pony underpants.
K: Well...it was her only unique trait.
M: Not true! She has two heads connected by a hair full of glittery vanilla perfume.
K: What, you think that's unique?
M: Oh...I guess you're right. Didn't Mr. Tolkien mention that being fairly common among elves?
K: I seem to recall it...wasn't it in the Silmarillion or something?
M: Something like that, I'm sure.

took the outstretched hand of Aragorn’s mother and walked to the west wing of the Last Homely House.

M: House? What house? Elrond lives in a castle! A castle, darn you! With slaves and servants everywhere you look and a costume ball every week!
K: No! Not the west wing!
M: It is forbidden!

She always loved visiting Lord Elrond because he never was without a story to tell her.

K: Two months is always now?
M: Most three-year-olds wouldn't remember, anyways. Every time she'd visit him would be their first meeting
K: Pfft. How many times do I have to tell you? She's a *Sue*. Normal rules don't apply,
M: And anyway she's got two heads, so I'm sure her memory is enhanced. Or something.
K: uh...right
M: You know, Elrond never struck me much as the telling-stories-to-toddlers type.
K: Clearly this is not the Elrond we know.
M: This must be the Elrond IsilAri owns.
K: I don't recognize him. At least, not in those stunning new chickens.
M: I just laughed out my nose. Did you know that's a really painful thing to do?
K: I owed you one for that whole spicy cheese thing.
M: It wasn't *my* fault. You should've been prepared.
K: As should you.
M: Jerkface.
K: Chickenbutt.
M: Vicious libel. I have never worn a chicken in any capacity.

They reached Lord Elrond’s study and, as usual, she was greeted with a sweeping hug from the noble elf.

M: Where is Elrond, and what has she done with him?
K: He's been replaced by the hug-monster!
M: Nah, I think it's just the chicken-pants making him act irrationally.
K: Could be, could be.
M: You can still see the Elrond we know trying to get out, though - did you see him trying to use her as a broom?
K: She doesn't have enough hair for it.
M: Well, you can't expect a man with poultry in his pants to remember details.
K: I suppose not.

But when he set her down she noticed that something unusual was present.

K: It took her that long to notice, huh?
M: (as Hen) Lord Elrond, what's that big wooden thing? What's that sharp blade hanging from it?
K: (as Elrond)Well, sweety, it's called a guillotine. We use it for...um...giving little girls candy. Do you want to try?
M: I like this story.
K: At the very least, it's terribly interesting.
M: That it is. And whoever did the costume design deserves an Oscar.

Well, that is, some others.

M: Yes, there were two guillotines--one for each of Hen's heads.
K: Really we only need one, to sever the connecting hair. Heck, even a pair of scissors would do.
M: Well, you know Elves--very fond of the grand gesture. They like big displays and all that.
K: True, true.

Gilraen had stayed; Elladan, Elrohir, Glorfindel, Erestor and Aragorn were all in the room also.

M: (as IsilAri) I want to have lots of people around, so...um...I guess I'll just name all the male Elves I know. Yeah, that's it . . .
K: Gilraen stayed, huh. And this is something unusual she has to notice.
M: Why isn't *Legolas* there, then?
K: Because she can't introduce Legolas until she's old enough to snog him. Duh.
M: Oh, right, right.
K: Otherwise that would border on pedophilia.
M: Oh, but it's ok for sues.
K: I'm hoping IsilAri is above that. Though Aragorn's reaction to the two-headed flower girl kind of bordered on it.
M: It did worry me when he acted that way towards a 3-year-old . . .
K: Yick. Can we move on, please?

Beside Elrond stood a tall, wizened looking man with a long, grey beard.
M: Oh, *there's* Legolas!
K: *thwaps you*
M: What? He's in the Witness Protection Program. You know, cos of all the 'Sues.

In his hand he held a large staff bearing carvings all along its length;

M: So the entire carved two-by-four fits in his hand?
M: Big guy.
K: I usually hold that type of thing in my mouth.
M: *blinks* You do?
K: Most people do. Often enough that holding it in his hand was something special to be pointed out.
M: Yes, that's obvious. But your mouth? I thought the usual staff-holding procedure was to wedge it between one's toes.
K: I don't have long enough toes. Sorry.
M: Hunh.

on his head was a blue pointed hat that covered grey hair;

M: Must suck to be in the WPP...they really destroy your fashion sense, don't they?
K: Indeed. Apparently they have him dressed up as Merlin from the old Disney Sword in the Stone.
M: Ooo, does he get to turn into a squirrel, too?! I *loved* that part!
K: I doubt it. Powers don't come with the ensemble.
M: *deep sigh* He really got gypped then, having to dress like Merlin without any of the compensation.
K: Indeed. Like some kind of...creepy, ME cosplay.

grey robes were wrapped around his frame.

K: He needs to coordinate this ensemble.
M: He wasn't actually *wearing* them, mind. He'd rushed out of the shower and had just sort of thrown them on.
K: I wonder why we're describing his body as a "frame"...I suspect some sort of physical description either was cut or is coming up...
M: Obviously the WPP hasn't been kind to poor Legolas.
K: My brain, under the influence of auto-correct, keeps trying to stick a "skeletal" in there.
M: You have to turn off the auto-correct for these fics, you should know that by now. It's integrated into the hardware; it doesn't come off. We just have to work around it.

He seemed pleasant enough for he carried a grin upon his faced.

M: I hope it wasn't too heavy.
K: Smiles are generally lighter than scowls, in any case.
M: But why does he have to carry it with his faced?
K: Maybe it's not. Maybe it's like, a pouch, or some kind of tray?
M: "Acme Incorporated introduces the newest product in its wizardwear line of attire - the FACED! Carries up to seventeen pounds' worth of facial expression, and available in three attractive colors!"

‘Lord Elrond trusts him enough to let him in Rivendell, so I suppose he is good,’

M: What, you trust Elrond's judgment? He let *you* in!
K: Pretty complicated judgment for a 3-year-old there.
M: The man is attempting to wear a chicken around his waist!
K: I wouldn't trust him much.
M: Heck, I'd go so far as to say that anybody he let in was to be distrusted on principle.

Hen thought to herself.

K: It's a good thing she didn't think to me.
M: I hate it when you get random psychic broadcasts from two-headed 'Sues.
K: Doesn't happen as often lately. These new ones don't think much at all.
M: Oh. I thought it was because of my new tinfoil hat . . . does that mean I should take it off then?
K: Keep it, just for its style appeal.
M: It is very pretty and shiny, isn't it? *smooths hat fondly*

Still she was wary of the old man.

M: She sensed his intentions toward her were less than friendly . . .
K: He's not really an old man.
K: I wonder if she's wary of us? She wasn't wary of Aragorn when he tried to toss her in the river, or Elrond with his guillotine, or...
M: Well, no. But she's not very observant, is she? I think it's the molten metal in her eyes. I bet that interferes with vision something awful.

Elrond laughed while watching Hen run to Aragorn and hide behind his legs.

M: *snerk*
K: Seek shelter behind the chicken!
M: Wait. When did Aragorn jump on the chickenpants bandwagon?
K: *Everyone* gets chickens for pants. It's the new uniform.
Birdie: Does that mean I get some too?!! YES!!! How did you know that’s what I’ve always wanted?! I asked Santa for some one year, but all I got was one lousy feather. *pout*
K: Look, it's Birdie!
M: GAH! When did SHE get here?!
B: But I got revenge because the next year, I only made him a crumb instead of a whole cookie, and he only got a drop of milk instead of a glass.
M: *stares in amazement* So we dont' get any explanation at all as to why...or when...or how....*gives up* Oh, meh. Shall we move on?
K: Sure. Tell us the next part of the story, Mommy!
B: *anticipates yummy stories*

Hen did not see what was so funny, but she held her temper for once and stayed behind Aragorn’s leg.

M: Aw, sweet widdle kiddums didn't throw a temper tantrum!
B: Did she have a chicken coop to stay in back there? Cuz I wouldn't stay behind someone's leg (if I were a hen, that is) unless they provided a chicken coop
K: Just one leg, now. She's not behind the other.
B: I cannot believe Hen is a three-year-old girl. I believe that she is indeed, a chicken.
M: No, silly, her name is Hen. They named her after her underpants.
K: But for a chicken to wear a chicken for underpants....it's like cannibalism, but worse!
B: It's chicken-underpants-ialism!!
M: Aragorn must've gained a lot of weight, for his leg to have room behind it for both those heads.
K: She's only as big as a flower, though, remember?
B: Is she a baby chicken?
M: *sigh* No, Birdie. She's a two-headed flower-girl wearing a chicken as underpants. Try to keep up.
B: *silently mouths 'two-headed flower-girl wearing a chicken as underpants' in amazement*
K: I don't blame her. This girl's hard to keep track of her.
B: Wow. That is impressive. Can I try?
M: Well, Elrond and Aragorn are. I don't see why not.
B: I've never been a two-headed flower-girl wearing a chicken for underpants before. It sounds quite invigorating.
K: I wouldn't recommend it personally. But it might work for you.
B: Hey!! I’m already a bird! Does that mean I’m not allowed to participate in chicken-underpants-ialism?
M: . . .
K: . . .
M: Move on?
K: Please.

“This is Mithrandir, a member of the White Council and one of the Istari,” he introduced the wizard.

M: That was an introduction? Weeeeeeird. I could have sworn it was an exorcism.
K: I wish it was. But Aragorn's the one who's being possessed by Candy's soul.
M: Birdie! Remove the chicken from your pants and pay attention!
B: *shamefully removes chicken, but keeps it close by in case an opportune moment allows the return of the chicken*
K: *determinedly ignores the chicken*
B: Wait, Aragorn has candy?! Not fair. No one ever gives me candy.
K: *gives Candy to Birdie*
M: *whispers to Kitty* Has she taken her medicine tonight?
K: Shh! Now's our big chance, she wants Candy, we want to get rid of Candy . . .
B: Candy!!! *throws confetti*
K: By the way...you may want to stain-proof your rug-rug-rugs...
B: Hey guys guess what!
M: .....do we want to know?
B: I can do the funky chicken!!!! *does the funky chicken*
M: No. No we do not.
K: You *smell* like funky chicken.
M: Can we un-know that? Please?
B: *indignant* I do not. I smell like Warm Vanilla Sugar. I just put some lotion on my hands.
K: Uh-oh...it's the perfume from the flowers!
M: Dude. Put the glitter perfume away.
B: Glitter perfume? This sounds intriguing.
M: Next sentence!!

Mithrandir took off his hat and made a sweeping bow.

M: He's sweeping the floor with his beard?
K: No, with his HAT. The one that's part of his Merlin disguise.
B: *dramatic sigh* He swept me right off my feet!
K: Oh, le swoon!
M: Snap out of it, you two. The last thing poor Legolas needs is two more girls squealing over him.
B: I love swooning. *swoons again, just for fun* And I'm not squealing over him; I'm squealing over his bow. It was a sweeping bow, and I was swept by it.
K: *enjoys simply saying swoon*
M: Granted, it is a fun word to say. Swooooooon!
K: I got to swoon on stage when we did our dances for Vocal Jazz Ensemble.
B: *jealous*
M: *jealous*
B: Jinx!!! Now you can't talk until I unjinx you!!
K: *shall watch closely to enforce this ban*
M: *talkity*
B: No! No talkity!
M: But I'm the PASTER!
B: Jinxity! Jinxity!
K: Oh pooh. Birdie, unjinx her.
B: Paster? You've been ordained?
B: *intriguiged by pastoralness, and so unjinxes mouse*
M: Yes. It's a holy office. That and Editor.
M: Shall we continue?
K: We shall

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Hen.”

M: *shrieks with laughter*
B: *snorfle* Lady Hen.
K: Lady . . . Hen . . .
B: I can just see a chicken all dressed up with a hoop skirt and a hat with fake fruit and pearls and high heels.
M: Yes, yes, a pleasure. *bleaches brain*
K: Wait! No, it's not lady *hen*! It's LADY CLUCK!
M: *thwaps Kitty* No more allusions!
B: *confused*
K: Disney's Robin Hood.
B: Is Lady Cluck related to Dark Wing Duck? DW was cool.

His voice sounded like a smaller Bruinen was in his chest to Hen.

M: He ate the Banker.
K: No, he ate the Banker's miniature clone.
B: *So lost and confused that the story line no longer matters. Begins to pick flowers and sing romantic, lilting songs about chicken-underpants-ialism*
M: Maybe he shrunk Bruinen and then ate him?
K: It was a smart move, really; depriving IsilAri of her most trusted minion is bound to weaken her position.
M: He was a very dangerous one, that Bruinen.
B: Minion is a really really cool word. *frames "MINION" and hangs on wall beside bed*
M: Um.
K: Right then.

She smirked, knowing the only reason he was being formal was to make her smile.

B: Formality doesn't make me smile. Joviality, sure. But formality?
M: Arrogant little snot, ain't she?
B: Like "Look! A tuxedo! hahahaha!!"
K: Rude, too. She didn't just smile, she smirked
M: (as Hen) Someone is being formal. Clearly, this is for my amusement, rather than an indication of any kind of seriousness.
B: That would be an example of what I would not do
K: You, Birdie, are a living example of what I would not do.
B: *bows* Thank you, Kitty. I resemble that remark.
M: *pats Birdie* Don't worry, she's a cat. Sometimes the predator-side of her gets the better of her.
K: *eats you both*
B: *causes severe indigestion and heartburn* Hah. I win.
M: Hey, that's what I did last time! Good strategy, idnit?
K: And so we got rid of a rug . . .

Being nudged out by Aragorn, she made her way to the Wizard and curtsied.

M: He nudged her out? Nudged her out of what, the chicken coop?
B: Freedom for chickens!!!!! Stop animal cruelty!!!!!
K: So now he's a Wizard, huh?
M: When did wizard become a proper noun?
K: Since he put on a pointy blue hat.
M: And how does the flower-girl know that Istari = wizard, anyway?
K: Um...because that's common knowledge among 3-year-olds.
M: Let's take a vote: Who thinks IsilAri threw in the word "Istari" just to give the impression she knew her canon?
M: *raises both hands*
B: *jumps up and down and raises hand* Pick me! Pick me!!!!!!
K: You mean like how she randomly Quenyafied the chapter titles?
M: Yeah, just like that.
K: *raises several more limbs than she possesses*

“And you, Meth…Methri…Methran…Methrandur.”

K: Yeah, uh huh, cuz that's exactly how little kids talk. They don't just mispronounce and assume it's right.
B: *sings* Bar-bar-bar-bar-bar-barbra- ann!!!!!!
M: And Mithrandir is so very difficult to pronounce.
K: I just got a "Oh, so that's what they're saying" over here. Great.
M: Shut up. Not everyone has classy parents who listen to good music, okay? Don't make fun of the underpriveleged.
K: *makes fun*
M: *stomps off in a huff* FINE. I'll just leave. See how well you can MST without me.
K: Probably much better. But I'm keeping the dibs.
B: No, Mousey! Come back!!!@!!!
M: Hmmph. I'll come back for the dibs, I suppose.
K: I knew that'd get her.
M: But only if Birdie quits abusing exclamation points.
K: I'll remove her exclamation point key.
M: All right then.
B: *mutter to self* Drat, they're onto my evil plan. Er, *cough* I mean, sorry guys.
K: She can keep the @, though. He's kinda cute.
M: *pets @* what's his name?
B: Henry. Henry William Samuelson XIV

Everyone in the room burst with laughter making Hen blush furiously.

M: *bursts into laughter too* Wait. What's so funny?
K: Because a 3-year-old not being able to pronounce "Mithrandir" would be unexpected, ironic, and hilarious.
B: I've never burst with "laughter making Hen blush furiously." It sounds painful
M: Is that sort of like appendicitis?
K: Sounds violent and gory. Boom! Splat!
B: *shudders* I've seen it. It's not pretty.
M: *interested* Really? Who?
K: You. We time-travelled back for the MST.
M: Oh dear. How much time do I have left?
K: 'Til the end of this fic.
B: The end is near!
M: . . .
B: Lookit, I'm a prophet! *holds sign, which reads "The End is Near" in bold green Times New Roman font, size 24*
M: That's not a very big sign there, Birdie.
B: That's because I'm only a bird, and if it was much bigger it would get in the way when I fly
K: Look, I'm a profit! *holds up monetary self*
M: *steals* What currency are you? Jade-leaf or USD?
K: Jade-leaf of course. It's the most profitable currency of all.
M: Of course.

“You may call me Gandalf, young one.”

M: I thought she was a Lady. Lady Hen.
K: Apparently she's been demoted.
M: Probably it was that shameful mispronunciation incident.
K: And what makes him think she's got any better shot at pronouncing Gandalf correctly?
B: Fewer syllables.
K: In real life, that'd turn into "grandpa" in about 5 minutes, tops.
M: I think that's where this is headed anyway. I'm getting serious "wizard's apprentice" vibes from this one.
B: Guys, I have a confession to make. *cowers* Gandalf is my grandfather. Really. And I have secret wizard powers.
M: And you HAVEN'T GOTTEN US AUTOGRAPHS?!
B: You never asked!
K: *asks*
M: What kind of friend are you!?
K: It could be worse....neither Sauron nor Sarumon are parents of yours, are they?
B: Um, I'm not sure. See, I never knew my parents. *angst*
M: Cos if you're the product of a Sauron/Saruman slash mpreg, this here 'Sue is your sister.
K: Don't you feel special?
B: My grandfather Gandalf took me under his wing to save me from the evil people that were after me.
M: *gags violently*
K: Ah! She's angsting! She must be The One!
M: Birdie, I hereby disown you as my friend, and as a member of MKB Inc.
B: No!
M: We are a strictly non-Sue organization.
B: I'm not a Sue I promise!
K: When did we get incorporated?
M: Last week. Didn't you hear?
K: No one tells me anything.

“Gandalf,” she said embarrassed.

M: She said "embarrassed." How odd that she can pronounce that but not Mithrandir.
K: I'm sure she's got plenty to be embarrassed about...
B: Who's the author here? Does s/he not realize the function and importance of commas? You know, those little things that look like this: ,.
M: The author is IsilAri, a two-faced Suethor.
K: She's commaphobic. Associates them with comas, you see.
M: Maybe her planet was destroyed by a contingent of evil commas.
B: Ooooo. *sympathizes*
K: I just thought of something good; it could be worse: her name could be iSiLaRi
M: True. We have to focus on the positive.
B: *cringes* That hurt, Kitty! Don't ever do that again without warning me beforehand.
K: *makes note of your weakness* of COURSE
M: Hey, at least you didn't get genius up your nose. I hear that's even more painful.

Elrond calmed everyone down and proceeded with the meeting.

K: What was going on that they needed calming down, now?
M: Yes, the meeting had devolved into mass hysteria as Hen's chicken made a particularly violent bid for freedom.
B: Their planets were just destroyed by evil contingents of commas. Cut the poor people some slack.
K: That's no excuse.
M: No, that was IsilAri. The Wooded Oasis is safe.
B: Tsk. Some people have no compassion *pointed look to Kitty* And yes, I did sharpen my eyes before I gave you that pointed look
K: Ouch!
M: That was just uncalled for, Birdie.

He went on to state how Hen’s parents had not come to claim her yet, and no one could find a trace of them.

K: Well, seeing as Aragorn did kidnap her in the middle of the woods, it may be a bit hard for them to find her.
M: Yeah, it's hard to track down your kid when someone's got her locked up in an elvish dungeon.
K: Miles and miles from where you last saw her.
B: I love elvish dungeons! All the pretty colors! And the shiny objects!
K: And pointy things!
M: And slimy moldy stuff!
K: Yay!
B: Party time!
M: I don't know why her parents haven't claimed her yet. I mean, you lose a kid, the first place you look is Elrond's place, right?
K: That's where the lost and found is.
B: Maybe he has all those socks I'm missing . . . .
K: He did until Hen showed up...she ate them.
B: Gross.

After about fifteen minutes of this explanation he told Hen,

M: It took him fifteen minutes to say one sentence?
K: He speaks really, really slowly.
M: Must be the effect of all the glitter perfume.
B: Maybe she just understands really, really slowly.

“Because we have not found your parents, Gilraen would like to adopt you.

M: . . . and the meeting dissolved once more into chaos.
K: As Gilraen suddenly was nowhere to be seen.
B: *throws confetti and blows kazoo*
M: (as Gilraen) I do not! I never! Who's spreading such vicious slander?!
B: Welcome to the family!
M: *thwaps* shush, Birdie, until we get you back on your meds. You aren't rational.
K: This could turn out even worse than the puppy idea...
B: *thwapped* Meds? You mean I can have my morphine back?! *hopeful*
K: Um . . . no. No you can't.
B: *crushed* But, but . . . Well, if there's no morphine in this, I'm leaving. I just . . . can't . . . take it *collapses onto ground*
K: *drags birdie back to her cage*

If you would rather wait and…”

M: ...and test out the guillotine, that's more than okay.
K: Free candy for all! . . . that is what the guillotine does, right?
M: Of course. That's exactly what it does. And anyone who told you different is a filthy liar.
K: He never got to finish his sentence.
M: Because his chicken suddenly bit him in a very sensitive place, causing him to shriek like a little girl.
K: Occupational hazard when one uses innocent birds that way.
M: Indeed.

“YAY!” Hen screeched in delight.

M: . . .
K: There...was some screeching going on...and a hen may or may not have been delighted in the process.
M: I'm so very glad this is in Wooded Oasis, because if that was supposed to happen in Middle-earth, I might do something dangerous.
K: Drastic measures would be in order.
M: And they would not be pretty.
K: At all.
M: Notice that Hen displays no curiosity or regret at all regarding her mysteriously missing parents. Or memories.
K: Nope. It's all "Yay! Adopted!" But then, after life in the dungeon, I suppose she has reason to look forward to it.
M: Hopefully her new family will break her of her strange underwear habits.
K: That may be too much to ask. It seems everyone in this Oasis has that problem.
M: Too true.

Jumping into Gilraen’s arms, she began showering kisses on her face.

M: Gilraen responded by smacking the upstart wench to the floor.
K: The royal elvish smackdown!
M: She's been taking lessons from Legolas.
K: Poor guy had to master the technique, with all those sues and fanbrats.

Once again Elrond calmed things down and began the ceremony that made Hen someone’s child.

K: He has a lot of calming down to do. Can't they hire someone less important for that?
M: Elrond's job, it seems, is to play referee when people try to kill his pet 'Sues.
K: I wonder if the ceremony's anything like the ones the Aiel do.
M: I want to know what kind of ceremony this is. Isn't adoption really just signing a paper? Does it require, like, Elvish magic or something?
K: Oh no, she has to *become* his child. It's a full blood transfusion, actually. And replacement of all her organs.
M: I find it highly unlikely that the mother of the heir to the throne of Gondor is just adopting some stray flower-girl.
K: But that'd be if this was the mother of the REAL Aragorn.
M: Oh right...this is IsilAri's clone.

When it was all finished, Aragorn sat Hen upon his lap and chuckled happily.

M: *eyes pop* Ew.
K: It's all finished? Oh great, no it's not. There's more pedophilia!
M: Now it's pedophilia *and* incest. How very...entertaining.
K: Except not.
M: At all.
K: Ever.
M: Even a little bit.

Pulling her in for a hug, he kissed the top of her head.

K: Which head?
M: I just threw up a little bit in my mouth. Can we move on? I don't like to think about Aragorn this way, even if it isn't the real one...
K: Me neither. Let's motor.

“Now I understand why I wandered about that day,”

K: I don't.
M: Wasn't it because you were all "solitary"?
K: I guess he lost his cards.
M: If you practice the game, you won’t have that problem. Adopting a 'Sue is a little excessive, isn't it?
K: There are easier ways.
M: Therapy seems a good route in this situation.

Aragorn said, “I was meant to find you beside the water, my Arnen.

K: MOVING ON!
M: Please!

Do you like that name, nessa seler?”

M: So now he's talking in incredibly awkward/incomprehensible Quenya? You'd think, as Elrond's foster-son, he'd know it was a banned language.
K: Which one, Arnen, or Nessa Seler, or should we just find the Quenya word for "pedophilic girlfriend"?
M: *squinches eyes shut* Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, happy thoughts!
K: *trying hard*Nothoughts, nothoughts!
M: Butterflies! Cheese! Canon!
K: People with more hairs than heads!

“Arnen,” she repeated.

M: Oh, gag me.
K: And totally mispronounced it, like 3-year-olds do. I mean, really, she was probably just getting used to "Hen."
M: It's more appropriate anyway.
K: Yeah.

Everyone in the room had a smile on their face except for Gandalf.

K: His got too heavy, so he set it on the table.
M: The entire room has one collective face?
K: Except for Arnen/Hen. She has two. She's compensating.
M: I think it's fair to say that this story is not set in our dimension.

For no one else seemed to notice that when Arnen had jumped for joy the crystal on Gandalf’s staff alighted for a brief moment.

K: So, it's really just a question of *which* magical being's daughter she is.
M: Oh dear GOD.
K: I'm still betting on the mpreg offspring of Sauron and Sarumon.
M: I'm telling you, she's a runaway from a Saruman/Sauron slash mpreg.
K: *hides, but not behind Aragorn's legs*
M: You wouldn't be safe there.

No one else seemed to realize that the rain clouds in the sky had disappeared instantly.

K: So much for subtlety.
M: ...and now we have to read about her Speshul Sue Powers for three more paragraphs.
K: Can't we, you know, sort of...summarize?
M: Which, despite their glaring color and flashing lights, no one notices.

No one else seemed to notice that a tree outside of the study window had bloomed suddenly.

M: *bangs head against wall repeatedly* Does it never END?
K: Because everyone else in the room had suddenly dropped into a mass COMA!
M: . . .just like we're about to.
K: Now, when they say no one *else*. . . ?
M: Gandalf, silly. But it's okay, I can see where you might miss it, buried in the Sewage as it was.

No one else seemed to have felt the small tremor in the ground nor seen the candles spark.

M: They missed an earthquake? Man, they really must be comatose.
K: Maybe Gandalf's just hallucinating?
M: Maybe the glue he's using to hold his beard on is giving him trouble.
K: Maybe it's the hat. Too tight.

“Mithrandir, my friend,” Elrond asked once everyone else had left, “what troubles you?”

K: "You don't have to call me that in private, Elrond. You know it's me, Legolas."
M: So he noticed Gandalf/Legolas acting slightly odd, but he didn't notice the earthquake or the flashing lights or the sudden blinking lights reading "LOOK AT THE MARY SUE"?
K: Well, he was in a coma. Or at least a comma.
M: (as Gandalf/Legolas) Oh, nothing much. I'm disappointed that the guillotine ruse didn't work. Shall we try again tomorrow?
K: (as Elrond/the Brain)You mean the same thing we do every night?
M: *resists the urge to go to happy Pinky and the Brain allusions* Just a little longer, Kitty. We're almost there.

Slowly Gandalf turned his head from the tree the elf lord.

M: Elrond is a...tree?
K: Looks like it. But then, Hen is a flower.
M: I know we've said this, but I so TOTALLY don't recognize this Elrond.

“You are going to have interesting problems with this child if I do not help you, interesting problems indeed.”

M: Who called it? I called it! Wizard's apprentice Sue!
K: Looks like Gandalf wants to get in on this action. *squicked*
M: Oh God Kitty, that’s disgusting. You just had to go and ruin my victory didn’t you? That's so very, very gross.
K: But way to call it.
M: Yeah, thanks so very much. Excuse me while I bleach my brain.
K: Or at least throw up violently.