Title: The Not So Great Legacy
Rating: PG
Summary: Mirwen, the Mary Sue Master Healer of Gondolin, has a legacy. Funny how only the healers of Arda are the ones fond of it.
AN: Too many Mary Sue fics and the Sues leaving wonderful legacies. Or why I should not read LotR fanfics while in a bad mood.
In the First Age healers did not force down their patients' throats foul tasting medicine or make them drink healthy tea which also tasted extremely foul. The medicine and tea, while not as tasty as chocolate, did not make the patient's gag reflex kick in.
Unfortunately the situation changed due to an extremely irritated Master Healer of the Great Hidden City, Gondolin.
This change was much to the displeasure of everyone who ever entered a healing ward as a patient. The healers, though, seemed remarkably more cheerful. And evil.
Odd that.
Mirwen twitched. One would think that in the Hidden City, one would be able to conduct as much research and experiments as one desired.
One probably would be able to if the 'Noble' Lords of Gondolin, other brave warriors and even the Great King himself stopped injuring themselves.
Mock dulls that got out of hand and reckless dares… It was enough to drive a poor elven healer mad, even if she had crossed the Grinding Ice.
Frowning, she glanced down at the medicine she had been preparing for Glorfindel, Ecthelion, and Rog.
(Apparently Glorfindel had accepted the other two's dare to climb one of the surrounding mountain blindfolded. She wasn't exactly sure how all three had been injured but the Eagles hadn't been able to stop laughing when they had brought the her three elf lordsto patch up.)
The medicine would never do. If they were going to interrupt her precious research in healing techniques and uses of different herbs and plants than they could pay the price.
Mirwen smiled. It was not a nice smile. She began to make another batch of medicine. Her research was definitely going to pay off and, even better, she did not have to waste time trying to make it taste better without negating the healing powers of the medicine.
Oh yes, they would pay.
And then she did something that would forever endure her to the Master Healer Elrond: she brewed tea.
When her task was completed she loaded up the three cups of medicine and the three cups of extremely healthy tea onto a tray. Then she entered the main healing room with a smile on her face that would make Morgoth proud.
Operation payback had begun.
The torment had been going on for quite some time but still Maeglin had not betrayed Gondolin's location.
And Morgoth was getting very annoyed.
Elves were so damn stubborn.
Morgoth thought back to see if the elf had given any hints of a weakness. Instead something he had once heard Hurin mutter came to him.
What had it been again?
Something about even being forced to watch the torment his children were going through being preferable thandrinking the Master Healer of Gondolin foul tasting medicine and the thing she had the nerve to call 'tea'.
Well… time to see if all the Elves of Gondolin hated the Healer's version of medicine and tea or if it was just humans.
"There is still one more thing I could do to you," Morgoth's silky voice drifted out from the shadows.
Maeglin rolled his eyes and spat out blood. "What?"
Dark Lords were so damn persistent.
"I could let you go without healing you. This means that the Master Healer would have to. And you, my dear elf, would have to drink all the medicine and tea she gives you."
Maeglin froze. He remembered the very few times he had suffered Mirwen's foul tasting concoctions she tried to pass off as 'good for you!' As if no one could see the demented glint in her eyes that some had remarked was eerily similar to the one that had been present in Feanor's eyes.
He had sworn he would never again be forced to drink another one. And if Morgoth did as he threatened than he would have to suffer through weeks of one revolting taste after another.
Well he had always wanted to get rid of Tuor and his brat and take Idril for himself. Also Mirwen and all her evil potions would be gone forever.
Double yay.
And so Great was the Fall of Gondolin.
What no one else knew was that disgusting medicines and teas was one of the major incentives behind it.
"Want book!" a two year old Elrond chirped happily as he pointed to a book on the shelf in his father's study.
Elwing glanced at the book. An in depth Look at Healing Techniques and Advice on How to Deal with Unruly Patients by Mirwen, Master Healer of Gondolin.
"That one?" she asked in disbelief. She had asked Elrond which book he wanted read tonight. This was not the book she had had in mind.
Seeing her son's eyes well up with tears and his bottom lip begin to tremble Elwing hurriedly gave her consent. "Alright we'll read this one."
Elrond beamed. Elwing just wondered how she was going to explain this one to Earendil.
Maglor glanced at the book the littlest twin, Elrond, had a death grip on.
"It's alright little one," Maglor soothed, "I won't let anyone hurt you."
And no one would ever hurt these four-year-old bundles of joy again once he found a way to convince Maedhros to spare them.
Smiling, he gently placed each twin on his lap, ignoring the slight flinches.
"Would you like me to read you a book or sing you a song to help you sleep better?"
Maglor firmly ignored the voice in his head that calmly pointed out that he and his brother had just slaughtered their city and forced their mother off a cliff so there was no way the little twins would ever sleep well again.
"Read book El has," Elros softly ordered.
Maglor glanced to Elrond who loosened his grip on his book and gave it to Maglor. Giving them a comforting smile, Maglor began to read.
Maglor smiled as he tucked the twins into the cot in his tent. He knew exactly how he was going to convince Maedhros to spare the twins.
Mirwen was a genius. It was a pity she had died in Gondolin; he would have liked to thank her.
Then again he had just kidnapped her King's grandsons. Maybe it was a good thing she wasn't here.
Maedhros stared at the tea he had just taken a sip of.
It tasted horrible.
And Maglor had somehow managed to get rid of all other liquids so that all they had to drink was this tea. Except the twins. And Maglor himself.
Oh yes, Maglor was definitely a son of Feanor.
Sighing he glanced at his smug brother who was happily cooing at Elwing's young sons.
"Alright," he flatly asked, "what do you want in order for you to never make this again?"
Maglor smiled.
Maedhros's head began to throb. Definitely a son of Feanor.
"Let me keep the twins," his very sneaky and evil little brother said.
With his stomach and army threatening mutiny, Maedhros quickly agreed.
In fact it is rumored that Maedhros actually threw himself and the Silmarils into the chasm not because of the pain the Silmarils caused, but because Maglor, who was not happy about the pain the Silmarils was causing, threatened to make the tea again.
But the author does not agree for Maedhros would never be that foolish; after all it's not like Maedhros ever walked into an obvious ambush from Morgoth and got himself tortured and one of his hands chopped off.
…The author respectfully withdraws the above statement.
Glorfindel shifted uncomfortably on the makeshift cot in the hastily constructed healer's tent. Very carefully, Glorfindel sat up, well aware of the fact Elrond was watching him.
He didn't know why his friend was so worried. It was just some minor scratches.
The Last Alliance was gaining some ground. Some but not a lot.
Absently he took a sip of the tea Elrond had given him and nearly spat it back out.
Slowly he took the cup away from his lips and stared at it.
It was foul. Disgusting to taste.
Absolutely revolting.
It tasted exactly like Mirwen's.
Swallowing and feeling suddenly ill he looked at Elrond.
"You read Mirwen's book, didn't you?" he asked faintly.
Elrond smiled.