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A 38-Year-Old Bardess Sue!
Found on the Godawful Fanfiction Boards, and boy, does this story deserve its place there!

Story Or Series Title: The Empty Vessel
Fandom: Bard Lord of the Rings
Culprit Author's Name: Zedrippyvessel (Really. I kid you not.)

Full Name (plus titles if any): To quote the being posing as Galadriel:
You are Bronwyn Morgan ap Powell. You are the Historian of the first Three Ages, the Storyteller of the Races, the Protector and Seer of the Future,  the Musician of the All, the Voice of the Unheard, the Keeper of the Truth and of the Innocent. You are to be the Founder and Mother of the Celtic Bards. You are the Last Empty Vessel and when you become filled, you are to be the Bard of Middle Earth.
Full Species(es): Hybrid--Angstia Puella x Dea Dubiosa
Hair Color (include adjectives): "Her thick brown hair spread
out like a fan, still damp, but he could see traces of deep burgundy red in the depths of its darkness."
Eye Color (include adjectives): "Large brown eyes" with "fire" in them.
Unusual Markings/Colorations: Golden skin, "large, melon-shaped breasts" and "child bearing marks on her stomach and upper hips" that arouse Haldir.
Special Possessions (if any): Haldir's love. The favor of the Valar. Modern knives that are considered magical by the residents of Middle-Earth. The urplest of urple prose.

Annoying Origin: Is sent to Middle-earth by the Valar after she attempts to commit suicide when her husband and four-year-old son (who has Down's Syndrome) are killed. The Valar apparently have lousy aim; she winds up filthy, lost and terrified in the Mines of Moria. Then she and the Fellowship run into each other, and she heals three members of the Fellowship and helps save the rest of them from Orcs. The Fellowship takes her to Lothlorien to be healed.
Annoying Connections To Canon Characters: She and Haldir seem to be destined to bring forth a special child. She and Haldir become the ancestors of Socrates, Confucius, Cleopatra, Merlin and William Rufus (son of William the Conquerer).
Annoying Special Abilities: The ability to change Tolkien's elves into sex-crazed maniacs. Forces Haldir to call her "Baraer," which the author claims means "fiery one." Turns Thranduil into a hater of humans who refers to her as Haldir's "pet." Transforms Galadriel--the Lady of the Golden Wood, bearer of Nenya, seer and leader of her people, into a giggling teenager eager to have her toes painted by Bronwyn. (This is not an exaggeration.)
Other Annoying Traits: She has speshul musical powers. Her voice, post-sex, can reproduce Elton John, Ed Rollins, Aerosmith, Beethoven, etc., perfectly. And by perfectly, I mean "with full orchestral accompaniment." Yes, her voice can produce the sounds of violins, trumpets, drums, double basses, pianos, and multiple singers ALL AT THE SAME TIME. She gains the ability to use music as a weapon (long after I thought that she was doing so, believe me). Oh, and she gets to have really loud sex with Haldir in the middle of a battle with Orcs and not be noticed by said Orcs.

One of the AUTHOR'S annoying traits is that she only uses quotation marks and apostrophes sporadically.

Please include a small sample of the worst of this story:

The room is dark and I have cried a bucket full of tears, yet the
grief remains, nor does it diminish. The ivories beckon to me, they
call my name sorrowfully, but I can not answer. The strings sing
sadly, yet I can not respond. My throat contracts, yet when I attempt
to pour the water from the pitcher, the vessel is empty. I set it
down and begin to weep anew. I am alone, yet I feel the calming
presence and her hand upon my shoulder. "Rest. Lay down your head.
Change comes. It comes on graceful arrows. He is coming." I fall into
grateful oblivion. And dream of his tiny voice. "Mama? Mama? Fower fo
Mama. Dun-dun love Mama..."

***

"Come back to bed, darling", she purred, allowing the sheet to fall, exposing perfect, pointed breasts. She smoothed the side next to her. "You've allowed me to sleep far to much tonight."

The March Warden looked at the silver haired beauty. "I am not your darling. What will it take for you to understand that? You are nothing more than a receptacle for my lust." He turned back to the window.

The she-Elf's look changed to one of contempt the moment his attention lay elsewhere and her voice dripped venom. "You seek me out willingly enough. I have kept myself for only you for a millennium. And what do I have to show for it? You have made me a laughing stock among the Lady's maidens. " She rose from the bed regally, sheet draped around her tall, slender body. Her tone changed, softened, as did the mask of her face; a face of sweetness, well practiced in her mirror. Her hand went to his well-muscled arm. "Haldir, why wait? What questions could you still have? We have been partnered for so long. Why not make it...permanent. Your parents would have been ple-"

His hand gripped hers tightly and removed her fingers from his arm. "Do not tell me what would have pleased my parents. You hold yourself out for me because you consider me your best catch. I know how many others you bed with when I am not here!" Her eyes widened. "Yes!" he spoke harshly before she could defend herself. "My brothers talk. I know they have enjoyed you separately... and together. I know others have as well! " He slung her hand away from with contempt. "You would bed Lord Celeborn, if he would even look your way. You might be a laughing stock, but you have made yourself one. And I am one as well, because I continued to take you into my bed."

***

Her size made it impossible for her to lie down in his lap, so she settled for cuddling against him. I feel like such a Mary Sue. she whispered.

Haldirs eyebrows furrowed together. A Mary Sue? What is a Mary Sue? Bronwyn sighed.

In my world, a Mary Sue is a character written to be either totally helpless and insipid, perfect, or Xena, Warrior Princess.

Haldirs eyes never left the landscape. And who is this Xena Warrior Princess?

Bronwyns arms tucked tighter around him, their babe jostling between them. Xena doesnt need anybody. She has awesome sword skills, this round blade that she throws and she yells Ayiaiaiaiaiaiaia ! Haldir scrunched his eyes in pain at the pitch she produced.

You are no Mary Sue, Baraer. You are no Xena...

Duh!

You are not perfect...

She punched him.

And, you are not helpless.

She sniffed. I feel helpless.

You FEEL pregnant. He hugged her close. Helpless, my eye! You are the same woman who stood in the Dol Guldur and ordered a dragon to stand down! Called him an ass-wipe! Questioned his aim! You are the same woman who fought at my side in the fields of Mirkwood, stomped on Thranduils foot, told him no, fought by my side in the flets of Lothlorien, impaled herself on a sword to save Heridil, brought that same Elf closure and completion with his father, called upon the powerful deities Beevis and Cornholio to aid you in your fight with the Uruk hai and Wargs. He looked deep in her eyes. You put up with me. You, Baraermin, are not helpless.

***

She stood that night, on the cliffs, calling to her child.

It is time.

"John, John, harken to my words..."

Over the ocean, the waters, beyond the gulls, the craigs, the fog, young eyes focused on the inner voice.
Yes?

John, John do you hear my voice?

Bright eyes shot up from the book he was reading.

Yes.

Listen most carefully my child. I am going to tell you a story about a great man, a curious traveler, who sailed far West to the an island that the Fairy Folk called Tol Eressea, the Land of Release. His name was Eriol...

For a long time, the child listened, listened carefully, until he was jolted from his reverie, by his teacher's loud grumblings...

"John? John? John Ronald Reuel Tolkien! You will NEVER amount to anything if you do not pay attention and learn how to read!"...