If you can braid your auburn tresses when all about you
Are tangling theirs and blaming it on Hobbits;
If you can cherish yourself when all men venerate you,
But make yourself available for only love that's true;
If you can date (Legolas) and not be tired by dating (Legolas),
Or, being bitched about by fan-girls, don't deal in scratching eyes,
Or, having masturbated, don't give way to masturbating,
And still look utterly dazzling and sing like a lark on the rise;

If you can wield a bow like a Wood-Elf born, and not make Thranduil your master;
If you can fly - and still make Gwaihir behave as though tame;
If you can captivate Orcs in the face of disaster
And treat both Boromir and Faramir the same;
If you can bear to face the hearts you've broken
And heal them all with tears like limpid pools,
Or make rampant stallions kneel with words unspoken,
And have your eyes compared to jewels;

If you can make one Ringwraith repent his sinning,
And have a secret, past-life loss,
And tumble into plot? What plot? From the beginning,
And keep the secret of your always-perfect lip gloss;
If the Fellowship desires with every nerve and sinew;
Not least the tortured, manly Aragorn,
To be the hero whose deeds will win you
And weep joyful tears making love in the dawn;

If you can spar with …omer but keep your virtue,
Or talk with Saruman - and become his emotional crutch;
If neither Ring nor Caradhras can hurt you;
If Haldir of Lórien starts to act butch;
If you can kick Balrog butt in just under a minute
And wear your worth like a perfect pearl r11;
Yours is Middle-Earth and every blonde Elf in it,
And r11; which is more r11; you'll be a Mary-Sue my girl!