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After the Fellowship of the Ring delivered word of Gandalf’s death, a lament went up among the elves of Lothlórien. The hobbits, men, and even the lone dwarf felt their hearts stir from the heart-wrenching sound. Lady Galadriel shed a single tear. Where it fell upon the ground, a flower blossomed.
So mesmerizing was this sight that no one noticed a lone woman stroll out of the woods until she stood in front of the company. “Hello? Are the cameras rolling?” She waved her hand in front of Galadriel’s face. “Stop singing, or was that supposed to be crying? You lot aren’t exactly earning your acting salary if I can’t tell the difference.” She picked a leaf off the bottom of her shoe.
The elven lady fell backward into her husband Lord Celeborn’s arms. Thunder rising up in her voice, she demanded, “Who are you and how have you come to trespass in the woods of Lórien?”
The woman wore strange clothing, pants made of coarse blue threads and a garishly maroon puffy jacket. She smiled politely and extended her hand. “I’m the safety inspector from the Screen Actors Guild. Didn’t you receive my email?”
For the first time in her thousands of years of existence, Galadriel was left completely at a loss for words. She stared at the outstretched hand. Did this peasant want a charitable handout? She’d better not ask for hair. Lady Galadriel did not give out her hair to just any random mortal.
Lord Celeborn demanded, “What in the name of the Valor is a safety inspector?”
“I’m here to make certain no one gets hurt filming this historic movie.” She looked around. “Can someone direct me to Peter Jackson? The Screen Actors Guild received an anonymous complaint about the safety on set. We don’t put too much weight on those, but I have to investigate, it’s my job. The faster you cooperate with my investigation, the sooner you can clear your name.” She smiled in professional way. In fact, the Screen Actors Guild had no particular authority to force an investigation, but she’d found that if she acted as if she had every right to be here then people tended to cooperate.
Strangely enough, this trick works even in fantasy worlds. Lord Celeborn muttered, “A guardian. She must have been sent by the Valor to aid this noble quest.”
Aragorn stepped forward as his companions muttered among themselves. “Milady, do you bear tidings from Eru?”
“Viggo Mortensen!” She gasped and put her hands to her mouth. “I’m such a big fan. Oh my god. Your costume looks perfect.” Her nose wrinkled. “Even your smell…it’s very unwashed medieval traveler. I admire your commitment to your work.”
Aragorn frowned. “You continue to speak words that I do not understand, strange visitor.”
She gaped at him. “Huh? Is this method acting? You must be deep in-character. I respect that, Aragorn.”
“You seem to know my name, milady, but I do not know yours.”
“My name is Mary Sue Isekai.” She sighed. “Go on, get it out of your system.”
“Pardon me?” Aragorn asked.
Mary Sue waved her hands. “Go ahead and say it. ‘Your parents must have hated you’ or ‘hee-hee, you don’t seem pretty enough to be a Mary Sue, shouldn’t you at least have purple eyes?’ or ‘watch both ways before you cross the street or truck-kun will get you!’ I promise you, I’ve heard it all.” She grinned in ghastly way that suggested not only had she heard it all, she was one more joke from going on a murderous rampage.
Legolas pushed his way forward. “I have never heard such a strange name before, nor do I know why it indicates you to be cursed by your own kin.” He muttered to Aragorn. “Do not be so quick to trust her. She seems to have smoked a bit too much pipe-weed.”
Mary Sue brightened visibly. “Not a fanfic reader? Neither were my parents. They didn’t know what a burden they were hanging on me.” She slapped Legolas on the shoulder. “You’re definitely going to want to avoid fanfiction after the movies come out, Orlando. Trust me on this one.”
Legolas recoiled. Loudly, he demanded, “Adopt more fitting manners. This is a ritual of grief.”
“Grief? Oh, are you filming the part shortly after Gandalf died?” Mary Sue looked around. “Relax, he’ll be back by the sequel.”
“Do you mock my friend’s death?” Legolas growled. “If you carried a sword, I would challenge you.”
Mary Sue tapped her nose. “Deep in-character. Very cool.” She marched her way down the fellowship. “Gimli, nice beard. They hired a little person to play you?”
“Little?” Gimli recoiled. “I’m a perfectly good height for a dwarf!”
Mary Sue’s nose wrinkled. “I feel uncomfortable with that word…fantasy setting, I know. Method acting, I know.”
Gimli continued complaining, “Every member of the race of men thinks we’re short when they’re a bunch of giants.”
“Race of men? Ugh, now we’ve got some sexism to go with the ableism.” She continued down the line. “Boromir, I love the armor. Merry, Pippin, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you’d actually been crying. Amazing acting all around.”
“She knows our names,” Merry whispered.
Boromir frowned. “She may be a creature of enchantment after all, for good or for ill.”
“Frodo! So that’s the one ring?” Mary Sue’s eyes shot downward.
Frodo wrapped his fist around it, too late to stop her from seeing.
Mary Sue laughed. “Not very impressive, is it? It’s plain and dull. That doesn’t even look like real gold. Of course, gold is a rather soft metal to use for a prop. It’s probably a brass alloy.”
Frodo wondered if he imagined the indignant screams coming from the One Ring.
Mary Sue shrieked so loudly that nearby elves fell over. “Samwise Gamgee!” She hopped from foot to foot. “They cast you perfectly!” She fanned herself. “I’m so excited to be in your presence. Awed, even. Overwhelmed.”
“Me, milady?” Sam frowned. “I’m no one of any import.”
Mary Sue circled him. “The ideal man: humble, brave, strong, dependable, and he can even cook! Whoa, it’s been my dream to meet you ever since I first read the books. You’re my fantasy husbando.”
“I’m not a man, milady. I’m a hobbit.” Sam eyed her warily. “Also, I have Rosie Cotton back at home.”
“All that and he’s loyal too!” Mary Sue nearly swooned. “You’re doing a great job playing him, Sean,” she said in a stage whisper, winking. “Keep up the good work.”
Lord Celeborn cleared his throat. “Lady messenger of Valor?”
Mary Sue turned around. “Oh, yeah, you’re here too. The pointy ears are very realistic.” The forced compliment somehow made the dismissal even worse.
The immortal and beautiful elf lord Celeborn stared in disbelief, unable to quite comprehend how he’d been passed up for a hobbit.
“Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!” Mary Sue shrieked. She pointed at the great Mallorn trees supporting elven buildings. Bridges extended from tree to tree and elves walked along them. “Where are the guardrails? Tell me the actors are at least wearing ropes! No, they’re clearly not. It’s dangerous! One slip could kill someone! No wonder I was called here.”
Legolas said, “Milady, my people are fleet of foot. We do not require these rails you speak of.”
Mary Sue snorted. “That’s what all the cocky stunt doubles say right before they fall to their deaths. Does Peter Jackson want a lawsuit on his hands? Because this is how you get a lawsuit.” She stormed toward the tree. “You! Get down from there! Yes, I’m pointing at you!” She pulled out orange tape from her bag and blocked off the stairwell. “This entire area is shut down pending a proper investigation.”
Galadriel whispered, “My love, are you certain this strange female comes from Valor?”
Celeborn winced. “I do not think she comes from the Enemy.”
The two elves exchanged a mutual glance expressing that regardless of who the human woman might be, now she had been proclaimed a divine messenger, it would be difficult to back out without looking foolish.
The Fellowship left the woods of Lórien with one extra member. Mary Sue Isekai marched in the back of the group, waving a shiny flat device in the air and complaining about her lack of cell phone reception.
Not for the first time, Aragorn whispered to Legolas, “Was Galadriel quite certain that this madwoman’s presence would further our quest?”
Legolas winced. “The lady sounded certain.” But he did not.
Back in Lórien, Lady Galadriel stood before a crowd of elves and proclaimed, “A great tribulation has left our lands! Also, the One Ring is gone too.”
The elves cheered and set about removing all the orange tape covering their trees.
Mary Sue stood on a tree stump and waved around her phone. She still had no bars. This was getting ridiculous. She needed to call her boss about the bizarre happenings on this movie set. She hadn’t even seen the director yet. The actors seemed to be taking their method acting to ridiculous extremes. No one had been willing to direct her to a phone with a landline. They pretended they had no idea what she was talking about!
Merry and Pippin ran past her. Merry shouted, “Orcs are coming, Lady Isekai!”
Mary Sue mumbled, “I’m trying to place a call to Peter Jackson. Still not going through…my battery is low, did anyone bring a portable charger?”
Pippin grabbed her arm and tugged her off the stump. “You must run, milady.”
Mary Sue looked up. “Am I in the way of the shoot? Fine, I’ll move.” The hobbits dragged her forward. “Hey, what’s the rush? I’m going, I’m going.”
As the troop of orcs crested the hill, Mary Sue stopped. “Whoa, they’re doing all that with makeup? I thought they’d use CGI. Their makeup looks so real.” She whistled.
On the verge of tears, Pippin tugged on her arm. “Please, Lady Isekai, faster!”
Boromir charged forward, “Protect the lady,” he cried as he drew his sword and faced the orcs.
Mary Sue’s eyes widened. “Excuse me? Is that a real blade? That had better not be a real blade.” Shaking off Pippin, she marched forward. “Sweet OSHA violation! That’s a goddamn real sword!”
Boromir frowned. “Milady, you must—”
Mary Sue slapped the sword from his hand. “Put that down right this instant! You might hurt someone!”
“She has gone mad.” Boromir grabbed his sword. “Gentle hobbits, please take her away.” Unfortunately, Boromir failed to notice Mary Sue before she kicked his legs out from under him. He lost his grip on his sword, falling backward just in time to avoid the arrow flying over his head. Then he rolled down the hill.
“Boromir!” Merry cried. Both hobbits ran after him.
Mary Sue marched up to the orcs. “Phew, that was a close one. Some fool armorer gave him a real sword, then he got totally consumed by his method acting. I’d heard rumors of that happening to actors. Well, uh, I read a manga about it once, anyway. I blame the director. Jackson has a lot to answer for.” She poked the closest orc’s cheek. Sheer shock kept him from reacting. “I love your makeup! I’ve never seen anything so real. It’s spectacular!”
The orc leader had been about to behead this uppity human. However, in his entire very short life since he’d been genetically engineered from super-creepy mud, no one had ever once paid him a compliment. He flushed. “You really think so?”
“Absolutely! Every last one of you is a miracle of modern cosmetics.” Mary Sue beamed. The orcs preened a little. She looked at the slime on her hand. “I gotta admit, I’m not sure I’d want your role. It must take you hours just to get into costume. How much are they paying you?”
“Pay?” The orc leader frowned. “We follow the orders of Saruman. He allows us to claim loot after battle.”
Mary Sue’s demeanor abruptly shifted, all trace of merriment on her face replaced with grim fury. “Do you mean to tell me that your only pay is the souvenirs you take home from the set? This is a crime! Do you even have workers’ compensation?”
“Workers’…compensation?”
“What happens when one of you gets sick or injured?”
Another orc spoke up. “Last time one of us fell ill and couldn’t march, we ate him for dinner. Might have been a mistake. I still have indigestion.”
Mary Sue was incandescent with fury. “Health insurance? Dental? Sick days? Vacation?” Their blank looks made her tremble with rage. “Peter Jackson! I thought you were a good director and good guy! This is an outrage!” Her scream shook the leaves off the trees.
“What’s vacation?” an orc asked.
“Something you’re damn well entitled to! You should each get two weeks off without work, paid.” Mary Sue bared her teeth.
“Whoa, imagine a full two weeks without needing to march or fight,” an orc whispered.
“They’ve never even heard of vacation time.” Mary Sue shook her fist and shouted at the heavens, “You’ll pay, Peter Jackson, or my name isn’t Mary Sue Isekai!” She turned toward the leader. “I know that sounds like a joke, but my name is seriously Mary Sue Isekai. Yes, it’s on my birth certificate. No, my parents didn’t hate me, although some days I can’t say the same in return. Let’s get started. Are you members of the Screen Actors Guild?”
“Never heard of it.” The orc leader spat on the ground.
“Well, you’re members now.” Mary Sue pulled out a business card and gave it to him. “We’re taking your employer to court. At the very least, we should be able to get minimum wage for the hours you’ve already worked. I’m going to argue that as skilled laborers, you deserve more. Clearly, you’re excellent actors. Just look at how all of you are staying in character even now.”
The orc leader basked in his second compliment in one day. “Lady Isekai, do you mean to say we ought to have had gold and so many other wonderful things all along?” He spat again. “To think all this time we’ve been working for free!”
“It’s the least you deserve. Saruman’s army can’t function without orcs! You have the power to bring this whole movie down!” Mary Sue pumped her fist in the air. “We’re going on strike!”
“Strike!” the orcs cheered, with no idea what she meant, but caught up in her enthusiasm.
Mary Sue sat down on the tree stump. “Gather around. This isn’t my first strike. Let me tell you how it works.”
The orcs listened in rapt awe.
The more they heard about bonuses and employment benefits, the more their fury grew. Soon they were waving weapons and baying for Saruman’s blood.
“Strike!” Mary Sue bellowed, waving her fist.
“Strike!” the orcs cried. In a mad mob, they turned back toward the Tower of Orthanc and charged.
Mary Sue leapt up and started to follow them. Before she could get far, Boromir clamped a hand over her mouth and dragged her away.
“Mmph! Mmph!” Mary Sue protested, kicking.
Boromir winced as her sneaker connected with his shin. “Are we quite certain our quest necessitates this deranged fishwife?”
Merry said, “I’ve got my doubts about her being some sort of fancy messenger, but she did save us from the orcs.”
Pippin chimed in, “Yeah! We can’t let her march on Saruman’s tower to get herself killed.”
Boromir sighed. “I suppose considering my own conduct of late, I can pardon someone else a moment of madness. Do you think the Ring might be affecting her mind too?”
“Strike-breaker!” Mary Sue yanked down his hand long enough to scream. “Just because you big stars have fancy contracts and salaries, you don’t care if the extras are mistreated? Bring me to Peter Jackson!”
Merry patted her back soothingly. “Yes, yes, we’ll take you to see this Jackson.” He winked at Pippin.
Catching on, Pippin said, “He’s right this way, milady.”
Mary Sue straightened. “That’s very good of you. I have a lot to say to him, and I still don’t have a single bar of reception.”
After being dragged through a forest, Mary Sue had increasingly started to suspect that Peter Jackson was avoiding her. The Ents’ costumes were very impressive, but they didn’t seem to be getting paid either, even though they were less upset about it than the orcs.
At least she got to watch the Fellowship’s reunion with Gandalf (minus Frodo and Sam). They all acted very well, even though this must be just a rehearsal because she didn’t see any cameras. Also, wasn’t Boromir supposed to be dead at this point? The movie must be making some major changes from the book.
When the Ents and the Fellowship marched on Saruman’s tower, they found nothing but destruction. The orcs had claimed everything they found as backpay, then burned the tower down.
As Pippin reached for a glowing orb, Mary Sue grabbed it first. “Huh, does this thing have batteries?” She tapped the side. “Where’s that light coming from?” She squinted.
Gandalf cried, “Quick, give the palantír to me before the enemy uses it.”
Aragorn held out his cloak. “Lady Isekai, put it here.”
Involuntarily, Mary Sue’s eyes dropped to his tight leather pants. She thought, Hmmmmm. Samwise is my husbando, but Aragorn isn’t bad either. Both would be good. Her mind drifted to a fantasy of a ranger-hobbit threesome.
Sauron, peering through the palantír, was treated to the sight of Isildur’s heir and a short hairy creature in a spicy ménage à trois. The burning eye withered. Howls of pain and suffering could be heard across Mordor as Sauron tried and failed to shake off the horrible images.
The palantír broke and shattered.
Gandalf stared. “Huh.” He stroked his beard and looked wise, which was the wizard’s way of covering up that he had no idea what the Morgoth had just happened.
Before the gates of Mordor, the orcs marched. Word of the promised minimum wage had rapidly spread across their ranks. Now an army of ten thousand held up signs saying “Sauron Needs Us, We Don’t Need a Glowing Eye in the Sky,” “Killing Ass for the Working Class,” and “Orc Rights are Hooman Rights.” The orcs did not know what a working class or a human/hooman might be, but they had a clear understanding that they wanted money.
The armies of foreign men, allies of Sauron, approached. They sent forth a messenger, who declared, “We have replied to Sauron’s call.” He looked over the orcs’ heads. “Is there some manner of confusion? The conquest of Rohan and Gondor has completely stopped.”
The orc leader spat on the ground. “The Lady Isekai warned us about this. You lot are strike-breakers.”
“I do not know that word,” the messenger admitted.
The orc leader sneered. “How much money did Sauron offer you?”
“Our services were purchased with ten thousand chests of gold.” The messenger hinted, “We have not yet received the gold…”
The orc leader gasped. “These stinking men got gold! When we don’t even get minimum wage!” His chest puffed out with indignation. “Lady Isekai called that racial discrimination.” He drew his axe. “You know what this means, boys! It means the old burning eye has gold in Mordor that he’s keeping from us! Our rightful wages for services rendered!”
With a roar, the orcs fell upon the gates of Mordor and ripped them down.
The messenger retreated. Although the foreigners did not understand what was going on, they could tell the lands of Sauron had fallen into civil war, and they weren’t getting paid. So they wisely went home.
At the other side of the gates, the nine Nazgûl faced the army of orcs. “Go back and obey your master,” their leader hissed.
The orc leader stomped his foot on the ground. The orcs dropped their signs and drew weapons.
The Nazgûl Lord cried, “No living man may kill me!”
“I’m an orc,” the leader replied, and with that, the orcs swarmed the Nine.
Mary Sue had never ridden a horse before. She didn’t even realize how badly her legs hurt until Aragorn helped her dismount. Gripping his arm, she took a wobbly, painful step. Then another. She whispered, “I need to go.”
“Go where, lady messenger of Valor?” Aragorn inquired.
Mary Sue flushed. “Uh, never mind.” She hobbled over to Gandalf. “Psst! Where’s the bathroom?”
“The bathroom?” The wizard frowned. “I speak languages across Middle Earth, but I’ve never heard that word.”
“You know what I mean! This is not time for method acting!” Mary Sue crossed her legs and jiggled.
Gandalf raised his eyebrow. “Ah, I see.” He led her to small wooden outhouse. “Here.”
Mary Sue laughed. “No, no, I’d prefer proper plumbing.”
“Again, Lady Isekai, I do not speak that language.”
Mary Sue sniffed the air. “That place reeks. Tell Peter Jackson that the court case will only go worse for him if he angers me further. I want toilet paper! And a sink!”
Gandalf growled, “I have more important tasks at hand than deciphering your bowel needs.” He slammed down his staff. Light sprang forth from his whole body.
“There’s no need to get angry.” Mary Sue peered at his face. “Weird, you’re glowing. How are you doing that? Are you holding glowsticks under your robe?” She tried to lift it.
“Do not move one inch further,” Gandalf said. Suddenly, Mary Sue couldn’t move her hand. She stared into the eyes of the ancient wizard. Something far greater than human stared back at her.
Mary Sue whimpered, “Is this place the real Middle Earth?”
Dryly, Gandalf said, “There is no fake Middle Earth, young lady.”
Mary Sue wet herself.
Frodo and Sam faced down a massive army of orcs. But to their great surprise, the enemy did not attack. They seemed too busy handing around bars of gold and singing victorious songs. Distant out of tune notes drifted upward: “Do you hear the orcs sing? Singing a song of angry fuckers with swords? It is the music of orcs; Who will not be slaves again.”
An orc with a battered helmet pushed himself forward. “Are you two the little ones with the ring?” Strangely, his tone was friendly.
Although Frodo did not reply, his hand crept under his shirt to clutch the ring.
The orc’s gaze followed the gesture. “About time you got here. We ripped down the mountain and we’ve been taking turns kicking the flaming eye around, but the damn thing just won’t die. Buckets of water have no effect. We’ll take you to Mount Doom.”
The orcs carried Frodo and Sam on their shoulders across Mordor to the fiery lava of Mount Doom. Then the orc leader yanked the ring off the chain and tossed it into the fire before Frodo had time for any moral crises.
Golum cried for days.
Mary Sue lay on the ground in a fetal position, sucking her thumb. She muttered, “Mommy…I want my mommy…I want to go home! I want internet! I want toilets! I want a shower to clean myself off!” Her shoulders heaved. She sobbed. “I don’t want to be isekaied! Middle Earth smells bad! This place is violent and the horses don’t like me and I don’t think anyone has even heard of guardrails. Why the hell did my parents have to name me Mary Sue? No, Dad, it’s not a pretty name! It’s a vile curse! Maybe if you’d used the internet for something besides poker then you’d know that! If you hadn’t gambled away all our money, then we wouldn’t have had to flee to New Zealand to escape the debt collectors, and then I might have avoided the cruel fate of my name a bit longer.” She pounded the ground. “I’m tired! I’m scared! I want my mommy!” She broke down into wretched sobs.
Light blazed forth. A beautiful elven woman clad in white strode forward. She cried, “My senses doth detect a wickedness…oh, screw it.” Arwen Undómiel, the Evenstar, planted her hands on her hips and shouted, “Where’s the bitch who’s been thirsting for my man so hard that I could feel it from Rivendell?”
Mary Sue sat up. “Wait, you know about that?” She backed away on her damp bottom. “Even the threesome?”
“Especially the threesome.” Arwen’s eye twitched. “You poured your highly explicit fantasy into a palantír! Did you not realize that every being with the power to see across Middle Earth would know? I saw it, Lady Galadriel saw it, Sauron saw it, my father saw it.”
Mary Sue twitched and whimpered.
“Get thee back to thy own lands to harass the menfolk there, wench.” Arwen raised her arms wide, and a light blazed forth.
Smile returning, Mary Sue leapt to her feet. “You’re sending me back home? Thank you! Thank you so much! Sorry about the palantír thing, it was an accident! You and Aragorn make a cute couple, I wish you the best. I’m more thirsty for Samwise Gamgee anywaaaaaaaaaaaaay…” Her voice faded away as the light consumed her.
Tossing back her hair, Arwen snorted. “There’s no accounting for taste.” She shouted into the light, “Yes, I see you too, author! Don’t even think about sending another one! I can kill you with my mind!”