|
|
|
|
#1
10-10-2002, 10:10 AM
|
|||
|
|||
|
If LotR Had Been Written By Someone Else!?
....What would it look like?
Ernest Hemingway It was very late and everyone had left the hall except an old man who sat in the shadows the leaves of the old Mallorn made against the moonlight. The two elves inside the hall knew that the old man was a little drunk, and while he usually was quiet and kept to himself they knew that if he became too drunk he would start setting things on fire, so they kept watch on him. “He’s drunk,” one elf said. “What do you care?” “He’s muttering about the secret fire.” “Leave him alone. He used to carry a ring.” “He’ll stay all night. He should never have been rebodied.” The old man rapped on the table with his goblet. The younger elf went over to him. “What do you want?” The old man looked at him. “Another miruvor.” “You’ll be drunk,” the elf said. The old man looked at him. The elf went away. “Look at his bushy eyebrows,” he said to his colleague. “There is nothing as nasty as an old Man. He’ll stay all night and I’ll never get any sleep.” The elf took the bottle of miruvor from the counter inside the hall and marched to the old man’s table. He poured the goblet full. “You should never have been rebodied,” he said to the old man. Mark Twain NOTICE: Persons attempting to resolve the question of Balrog wings by means of this narrative will be prosecuted; persons attempting to define the nature of Tom Bombadil will be banished; persons attempting to find allegory in it will be shot. BY ORDER OF THE AUTHOR, Per G.G., Chief of Ordnance. FOREWORD: In this book a number of dialects are used, to wit: the Quenya Elvish dialect; the extremest form of the Rhovanion dialect; the ordinary Sindarin dialect; and four modified varieties of this last. The shadings have not been done in a haphazard fashion, or by guesswork; but painstakingly, and with the trustworthy guidance and support of personal familiarity with these several forms of speech. I make this explanation for the reason that without it many readers would suppose that all these characters were trying to talk alike and not succeeding. THE AUTHOR. CHAPTER 1 You don’t know about me without you have read a book by the name of The Red Book of Westmarch; but that ain’t no matter. That book was made by Mr. Frodo Baggins and his Uncle Bilbo, and they told the truth, mainly. There was things which they stretched, but mostly they told the truth. That is nothing. I never seen anybody but lied one time or another, without it was the Lady Galadriel, or Elrond, or maybe Gandalf. The Lady Galadriel – the Lady of Lothlorien, she is – and Elrond, and the wizard Gandalf is all told about in that book, which is mostly a true book, with some stretchers, as I said before. Heh, anybody have any others? 
|
| Advertisement |
|
|
|
#2
10-10-2002, 11:28 AM
|
|||
|
|||
|
If I were to tell you the true story behind the unmaking of that ring...that ring!...you would think me mad. Horrors such as are scribed in ancient tomes of eldritch evil cannot compare to the terror...the cruel, cold, braincrushing terror!...that we felt in the lair of that foul spirit which raimed itself in arachnid form, that vile scavenger, that horrid arcane leech lingering at the border's of Sauron's Black Land...
-The Ring-Journal of an Anonymous Hobbit, by H.P. Lovecraft |
|
#3
10-10-2002, 11:33 AM
|
|||
|
|||
|
If it was written by Robert Jordan it would be 10 books long.
::coughhackcough:: |
|
#4
10-10-2002, 11:38 AM
|
|||
|
|||
|
LOTR by Mickey Spillane:
I was sitting by the fire, puffing on a pipe, still nursing a hangover from the ale-fest the night before, when HE walked in. He had a long white beard, a magical staff, and legs that youd like to eat on toast. "Are you Frodo Baggins," he intoned. "I might be," I said. "Who's asking?" "My name is Gandalf, Mr. Baggins. And I need your help." I looked him over. "Lots of people need my help. What makes YOU special?" "Well, Mr. Baggins... there is a certain piece of jewelry. If it fell into the wrong hands, it could prove... troublesome. I need someone to take this ring to Mount Doom, where it can be destroyed." I stuck some more weed in my pipe, and said, "Look, doll, let's get one thing straight- you can't come into my hole, tell me a fairy-tale about a magic ring, bat those pretty eyelids, and have me fall at your feet. I stick my neck out for nobody." |
|
#5
10-10-2002, 11:40 AM
|
|||
|
|||
|
Quote:
And I'd do a Terry Brooks version, but that would require no more effort than going to get my copy of The Sword of Shannara and copying off a few paragraphs... |
|
#6
10-10-2002, 11:47 AM
|
|||
|
|||
|
Eowyn felt her heart flutter when she saw him. His raven hair flew in the breeze off the plain, and his piercing eyes caught her gaze as if by magic. He bore a kingly attitude; surely he was a prince. Her mind turned to forbidden things, things which would be forbidden to the King's niece, but surely allowed for a free shieldmaiden. She knew that she was made to love this ranger.
-Mark of the King, Danielle Steele |
|
#7
10-10-2002, 12:10 PM
|
|||
|
|||
|
Smeagol writhed in corruption, his lifelong attempts to collectivize the Hobbit economy had twisted his soul and body and brought ruin to the Shire. "Precious," he muttered. "Precious colective good giving according to need." He shuddered at the thought of the unbroken individual standing proudly over a conquered plain with the Ring, and felt jealous that the wholesome power could not be his.
-Lord of the Rings, by Ayn Rand. |
|
#8
10-10-2002, 12:32 PM
|
|||
|
|||
|
"Gandalf, Gandalf! Take the ring!
I am too small to carry this thing!" "I can not, will not hold the One. You have a slim chance, but I have none. I will not take it on a boat, I will not take it across a moat. I cannot take it under Moria, that's one thing I can't do for ya. I would not bring it into Mordor, I would not make it to the border." -excerpt from Dr. Suess's FOTR. |
|
#9
10-10-2002, 01:27 PM
|
|||
|
|||
|
LotR by Terry Brooks
Never gets written. No source material. |
|
#10
10-10-2002, 02:05 PM
|
|||
|
|||
|
Ah, I see we are off to a great start! Keep them coming...
Ray Bradbury In which Gandalf gains a new perspective on his heretofore unexamined mission: It was a pleasure to burn. It was a special pleasure to see Hobbits eaten, to see them blackened and changed. With the wooden staff in his fists, with this great python spitting its venomous pitch upon the Shire, the blood pounded in his head, and his hands were the hands of some amazing conductor playing all the symphonies of blazing and burning to bring down the tatters and charcoal ruins of history. With his pointed hat on his wizened head, and his eyes all orange flame with the thought of what came next, he mumbled a Word of Command and the Great Smials jumped up in a gorging fire that burned the evening sky red and yellow and black. He strode in a swarm of fireflies. He wanted above all, like the old joke, to shove a haunch of mutton on a spit in the furnace, while the flapping, ridiculous Hobbits died on the porch and lawn of the great Hobbit-hole. While the Hobbits went up in greasy, sparkling whirls that blew away on a wind turned dark with burning. Gandalf grinned the fierce grin of all men singed and driven back by flame. Fools of Tooks! he thought with an inward chuckle, as the smell of burnt foot-hair filled his nostrils, as welcome as the smell of a fresh-baked apple pie cooling on the sill. He knew that when he returned to Lothlórien, he might wink at himself, a minstrel man, burnt-corked, in the Mirror of Galadriel. Later, going to sleep, he would feel the fiery smile still gripped by his face muscles, in the dark. It never went away, that smile, it never ever went away, as long as he remembered. |
|
#11
10-10-2002, 03:00 PM
|
|||
|
|||
|
What a great thread idea. I only wish I knew this scene to participate. Great work so far stylistically though - Kudos to all.
|
|
#12
10-10-2002, 04:49 PM
|
|||
|
|||
|
The Lord of the Rings
or The Land of Middle-earth by W.S. Gilbert and Arthur Sullivan SCENE. -- Front yard of Bag End in Hobbiton, the Shire. Various hobbits discovered standing and sitting in various attitudes suggested by Rankin-Bass films and trippy illustrations from the 1970s. CHORUS OF HOBBITS. If you want to know who we are, We are gentlemen of the Shire; In many an inn and bar, By many an alehouse fire, We dine on six meals a day; Our attitude's bright and gay; But we don't mean it that way, oh! If you think we are cutesy-poo, Like an Ewok or Jar-Jar Binks, You don't know what we do: When we don't smokes, we drinks! Our dwelling is Hobbiton; We only stand three foot one; We use evil rings for fun, oh, oh! We use evil rings for fun! If you want to know who we are, We are gentlemen of the Shire; In inn and bar, by alehouse fire; In many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many a bar, oh, oh, oh, oh! In inn and bar, by alehouse fire! Enter Gandalf in great excitement. He carries a pack of fireworks on his back and a staff in his hand. RECIT. -- GANDALF Gentlemen, I pray you tell me Where a gentle hobbit dwelleth, named Frodo, The ward of Bilbo? In pity speak, oh speak, I pray you! TED SANDYMAN. Why, who are you who ask this question? GANDALF. Come gather round me, and I'll tell you! SONG and CHORUS -- GANDALF. A wand'ring wizard I, A thing of spells and magic, Of stories dark and tragic, Of counsel I'll prophesy... That's where inspiration flagged. Although I could post the touching "Departure from Rivendell" scene... |
|
#13
10-10-2002, 10:01 PM
|
|||
|
|||
|
LOTR by “Cesil”
Dear Cesil: Is it true that Frodo lost the ring to Gollum? We were arguing about it during a study session at the local brewery, when these guys dressed like orcs let it slip that Frodo bit his own finger off, and pushed Gollum in Mount Doom so there was no evidence. Is Frodo the next Dark Lord? Anxious in Hobbiton Dear Anxious, You think if I knew the whereabouts of the ring I’d tell a puling college student? There have been crackpot doom theories (get it?) about the ring ever since it was lost in the last age. It’s been a magnet for PBS loons when anyone disappears in a birthday party or a black rider is seen astride a flying saucer. Let’s set the record straight with a few facts: After Frodo was exhumed in the Grey Havens following the suspicious circumstances of his “fading,” particular attention was paid to the manner in which his finger had been severed. It was the opinions of “experts” that the tooth scrapes on the joint were consistent with teeth like Gollum’s--worn by gnawing and grinding on bones. However the elves, having ignored the valuable lessons on interrogation taught by the Numenoreans, failed to follow up with questions regarding similar markings on various of Frodo’s toes. Hence the persisting rumors. No doubt you’re hoping that the ring was finally put to bed in the flames of Mordor--lo those many years ago--but that’s not certain. There are unsubstantiated rumors that the nursery rhyme from the Middle Ages “Ring around the Rosie” is about the destruction caused by Sam Gamgee’s wife Rosie when entrusted with care of the ring while Sam was off fighting wiccans and environmentalists who had risen in the ruins of the witch kingdom Angmar. Wagner’s famous “Ring Cycle” is held by certain cultists to be a covert reference to the growing power of the one ring--soon to be passed to the Kaiser, and subsequently Adolf Hitler. Music lovers claim the evil influence of Isildur’s Bane pervades Wagner’s music, but between you and me, Anxious, it doesn’t take much miscalculation to make opera sound like crud. Finally, those whacky New Age pranksters claim that the metal from the one ring flowed into the magma of Mount Doom, and is now present in minute quantities in every volcanic eruption—thereby gradually turning the whole of humankind into dark lords. This goes a long way toward explaining prime time TV. But in conclusion we’ll have to admit that unless it’s hidden in a yet another unfound Nazi stash, part of the crown jewels, or that talisman the Dalai Lama keeps around his neck, the one ring of power will just remain a happy memory. -- CESIL |
|
#15
10-10-2002, 10:51 PM
|
|||
|
|||
|
a la "Doc" Smith
"QX, Sam!" Cried Frodo. "That zwilnik Gollum had just enough jets to cut me free from that blasted ring!" Meanwhile Sam's steely gaze followed the form of Gollum into the cracks of doom. The kinetic energy of its wretched body's translation into one with the magma became heat. Heat added to heat. It piled up ragingly, frantically, equilibrating, then turning hotter. Hotter! HOTTER! "By Ulmo's carballoy bowels, ringman Frodo! We gotta get to clear ether!" "Udun's jingling bells, Sam! Its covered. I phialed a message to Galadriel to alert our boys in Aeries we'd be needing them! They'll be here in 3.3 minutes, Eriador standard time." And as the Grand Fleet of the Eagle Patrol blasted away from Mordor airspace with the two second-stage ringmen firmly in their grip, Frodo wondered when he would next be called upon to pull the chestnuts of the Valar out of the fire again. |
|
#16
10-10-2002, 11:17 PM
|
|||
|
|||
|
By Neal Stephenson (heavily borrowed, and eerily appropriate)
Frodo, the Deliverator, belongs to an elite order, a Fellowship of nine members only. He's got esprit up to here. Right now, he is preparing to carry out his only mission that matters. His armor is silver like the light of the full moon, jangling only slightly with its decorative gems. An arrow will bounce off its dwarvenmesh weave like a hammer off an anvil, but excess perspiration wafts through it like the winds over the charred plains of Gorgoroth. All the arrows of all the hunters in the world couldn't cut it against this one. When they gave him the job, they gave him a sword. The Deliverator never looks for trouble, but some Orc might come after him anyway---might want his armor, or his cargo. The sword is tiny, aero-styled, lightweight, the kind of sword a Hobbit would carry; it cuts quickly into load-bearing beams without visible effort, and when you get done using it around evil, you have to sheathe it, because it glows in the dark. |
|
#17
10-10-2002, 11:35 PM
|
|||
|
|||
|
The King of the Nazgul (KotN) fingered the safety buckle that secured the shortsword in it's scabbard. It was modeled after the Gladius design, making it wholly inadequate for going up against Elven armour, but it was perfectly suited for being jammed in the collarbone of a Hobbit 'merc, without calling too much attention to it's owner. His XO, "Camel" Khamul had used a similar weapon in numerous CoIN missions in North Gondor, where he had been sent to disrupt "Elrond's" supply fellowships sneaking down the Is-ild-ur trail.
The KotN smiled, even without a head. This mission was almost going to be a mead-run. Taking out a squad of sleeping halflings was going to be easier than slaying Wyvyrns sitting on a tarmac... -Hunt for the Ring, Tom Clancy |
|
#18
10-11-2002, 08:15 AM
|
|||
|
|||
|
LOL! Great stuff guys!
partly_warmer: LotR by Cecil!? Hehe, that was good! A Lost Short Story by J.R.R. Tolkien The chicken, sunlight coruscating off its radiant yellow-white coat of feathers, approached the dark, sullen asphalt road and scrutinized it intently with its obsidian-black eyes. Every detail of the thoroughfare leapt into blinding focus: the rough texture of the surface, over which countless tires had worked their relentless tread through the ages; the innumerable fragments of stone embedded within the lugubrious mass, perhaps quarried from the great pits where the Sons of Man labored not far from here; the dull black asphalt itself, exuding those waves of heat which distort the sight and bring weakness to the body; the other attributes of the great highway too numerous to give name. And then it crossed it.
|
|
#19
10-11-2002, 08:35 AM
|
|||
|
|||
|
Ringlord
Frodo looked blankly at the garden. "Sam, is there a reason you pulled up all the flowers?" "Oh yes sir, Mr. Frodo, sir. Cause a them wassits, the bugs gottem. Aye. Yessir." Frodo turned his questioning stare back to Sam, "And I'm sure this has nothign to do with the fact that Farmer Maggot has been buying them for ten-pence a dozen, either? "Errrr....Oh no, not a bit of it, Mr. Frodo." * * * About that time, the visiting Archprocurer of Old and Mostly Unwanted Documents to Stick on a Dark Shelf in the Library, Gandalf of the More-or-less-seen tower of Isenguard showed up at the Inn of the Prancing Pony. The rough and tumble Eastern men eyed him supiciously. WHich was not unusual, they eyed everyone suspiciously. Including themselves, when they were about a mirror. "Hello there, Barliman. Could you get me a pot of Ale? On my credit, if you please." "You've been running up a good tab lately, Mr. Gandalf, sir. You sure you're good for it?" Oh, of course, Butterbur. 'Sides, the same law goes all down to Mordor. The night watch'd have my hide if I tried to cheat you. And its not like I expect some horrible fiend from beyond the pale of mortal ken to fight me in a gigantic duel above an ancient Dwarven City, leading to both our deaths, after all. Barliman stared at Gandalf. "Errr... that wouldn't be a Balrog you're a speakin' of, right? "Exactly sir. I cannot possibly be speaking of a Balrog since they don't exist. Hence I must be good for my debt. Haha." ~Terry Pratchet, though he would have done a much better job than I, surely. LotR Z "This foe is beyond any of you... his power Level has reached at least 30,000 after fighting every Dwarf in Moria. Ki Fhy to the gate Aragorn, you must lead them on!" The muscles beneath Gandalf'sGrey Cloak strained in anticipation of the coming battle. Soon after, when they were nearly at the gate, the Balrog launched a surprise Ki attack, knocking down Borrmir and stunning Blazing Fist Gimli. Gandfalf turned to face him. "Fool!" said he, I don't have time for this nonsense... "Pure Flame of Arnor Shield Wall Strike!" The massive energy wall sstreaked off towards the Balrog, who was knocked flying... though no-one was sure whether or not he had wings. "Raaaaauuuugggg! Gandalf, I have not shown you my true power! Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa... five minutes later aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaa! Now I am a Super Balrog 2!!!!! My power level has gone up to 3 million!" Gandalf just smirked. "I probably shoud have told you, after you left the service of Eru, we figured out a few new tricks. Here's a good one: Kaaaaaaaaaa------Meeeeeeee------Haaaaaaqa-----Meeeeee---- -The Balrog laughed in anticipation of Gndalf's feeble attack- HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" The resulting explosion threw the Balrog back agaoinst the walls of Moria. His expression turned to one of complete disbelief. "Urrrghhh.... Ahhh... Ugghhhhh.... That's...not possible...." The rest of the Fellowship of the Z Ring stared, twitching slightly and grunting in awe at Gandalf! Gandalf grinned, "another one of those tricks I learned... I learned how to Hide my POWER level!" |
|
#20
10-11-2002, 08:43 AM
|
|||
|
|||
|
Somebody write a Gene Roddenberry version. I can't get up the willpower to subject myself to the Horror.
|
|
#21
10-11-2002, 08:59 AM
|
|||
|
|||
|
My name is Baggins. Frodo Baggins. 00Hobbit, license to quest.
Oh Frodo! Last night was magnificient! Stay with me here in Lothlorien forever. I cahn't Galadriel. The Grey Wizard, G, gave me an assignment to infiltrate Mordor, & destroy the One Ring. I know, and when I take the Ring from your corpse, I shall rule in glory, and all shall love me and despair. Last night was Heaven, Mr. Baggins. Now go there. BANG-BANG-BANG! ARRRGH! Galadriel, a Double Agent. Well, well, well. Too bad. But, I always preferred my elves shaken, not stirred. And certainly not shot. No. not e.e. cummings. Guess again.   
__________________
Sweet bongo of the Congo! Sweet Yeti of the Serengeti! She's gone crazy-eddy in the heady! Sweet guinea pig of Winnipeg! |
|
#22
10-11-2002, 09:04 AM
|
|||
|
|||
|
Of the great War of the Ring, and the tast
Of that Forbidden power, the long and Arduous trek, thru’ fiery, blasted plains With faithful Hobbits and treacherous beasts To Chaos’ edge, and there to cast the One To endless fire and eternal death: Sing Heav’nly Muse, that in Rivendell did’st First teach of the Rings of Power forgéd, In the beginning how the Dark Lord Sauron Brought into the world from fiery depths Of Doom this ring of gold, pouréd into’t His Malice and his Evil; I now Invoke thy Aid to my Adventrous song That struggle as it might to take to th’air Though will I drag from bottomless perdition Things unattempted yet in Prose or Rhime And justifie the ways of men to Elves. LotR, by John Milton |
|
#23
10-11-2002, 10:13 AM
|
|||
|
|||
|
The Lord of the Rings
Starring Humphrey Bogart and Marlene Dietreich Directed by Howard Hawks http://ringil.cis.ksu.edu/Tolkien/Movie/lotr.mov
|
|
#25
10-11-2002, 11:43 AM
|
|||
|
|||
|
Quote:
I haven't read a Piers book in recent enough memory to get his style down, but I know there would have to be a much more in-depth examination of the Hobbits' nudity after they escaped from the clutches of the barrow-wights, not to mention a thorough investigation of elvish attitudes towards sex with mortals (Arwen and Aragorn). |
|
#26
10-11-2002, 12:22 PM
|
|||
|
|||
|
o/` Wraith-wraithery, wraith-wraithery, wraith-wraith-eree,
A Nazgul's as nasty as nasty can be. Wraith-wraithery, wraith-wraithery, wraith-wraith-eroo, your luck will run out when I'm looking for you. So give me the Ring, or you're Nazgul, too! o/` o/` Just a spoonful of lembas helps the athelas go down, the athelas go down, the athelas go down. Just a spoonful of lembas helps the athelas go down in a most delightful way. o/` o/` Feed the orcs, tuppence a bag, tuppence, tuppence, tuppence a bag. o/` o/` Oooh...taurelilomeatumbalemornatumbaletaurealomeanor, if you say it too slow then you won't make it to dinner. Unless you've got some time on hand don't say I didn't warn ya. taurelilomeatumbalemornatumbaletaurealomeanor. o/` -excerpts from Merry Poppins, P.L. Travers & Walt Disney. |
|
#27
10-11-2002, 01:38 PM
|
|||
|
|||
|
Someone right one in lawyerese
|
|
#28
10-11-2002, 01:43 PM
|
|||
|
|||
|
err, I mean write, cough cough.
|
|
#29
10-11-2002, 02:30 PM
|
|||
|
|||
|
People were always asking me, did I know Gollum.
"AAAIEEE!" With a crazed and deformed Stoor clenching his jaw on your finger, you only speak in vowels. With my finger, I can feel the half-chewed fish stuck behind his tongue. I totally forgot about the whole Ring destruction thing for a second and I wondered how clean his teeth were. The cave we're standing in won't be here in three minutes. You take an ancient evil Ring of Power and add a 98-percent concentration of flaming lava. Explosion. I know this because Sauron knows this. This is our world now. Two minutes. Two minutes to go and I'm wondering how I got here... Fade to a support group: "Remaining Hobbits Together." --Openning of Chuck Pahlaniuk's LoTR |
|
#30
10-11-2002, 04:43 PM
|
|||
|
|||
|
LotR by George Orwell:
"I cannot read the fiery writing," said Frodo. "There are few who can," replied Gandalf. "It is the language of Mordor, which I will not speak here. Translated into the common tongue, it reads: 'All rings of power are equal, But some rings of power are more equal than others.'" LotR by Dave Barry: At the end of the Council of Elrond, everyone concluded that 'Shards of Narsil' would be a great name for a band. LotR by Matt Groening: Frodo suddenly reappeared, bleeding from the hand. Gollum triumphantly cried, "Hmmmm...hobbit finger with ring of power garnish." But as he danced in victory, Gollum slipped and fell into the pit of fire. The Cracks of Doom echoed with his last despairing cry of "D'oh!" |
|
#31
10-11-2002, 06:25 PM
|
|||
|
|||
|
We were 20 steps from the exit when the giant flaming Balrons first appeared over our heads. These weren't your normal giant flaming Balrons but some sort of interdimensional Maia that would sit and spin in mid air before dissolving before your very eyes and sneaking up behind you. Gandalf had the pipe and I had the ring which, so far, I had been able to resist trading to the local drug lords for another package of white. Gandalf was shouting random Macrohydration spells while simultaneously trying to not trip over his robes and fall face first into the local pools of goo. Legolas took another drink from his flask and, once again, began explaining how elves were different than humans and much, much mellower.
- Hunter S. Thompson |
|
#32
10-11-2002, 07:41 PM
|
|||
|
|||
|
Bosda: Ian Fleming?
Quote:
"Strider, we've got to get out of this snow. Legolas, did you get a reading on that creature?" "Fascinating, Captain. It appears to be an unknown creature that lurks in the pool waiting for passing strangers. Ecologically implausible, captain." "Do you know what it is?" "I believe I said it was unknown, Dr Gimli. Logically, if I knew what it was, then it wouldn't be unknown." "Cap'n, we're in some sort of temporal warp, stretching and deforming the plot. The snow should take place a day before our encounter with this beastie." "Captain, what are we going to do?" "Boromir, put on that red armour." "Cap'n, she can't hold much longer...." |
|
#33
10-11-2002, 11:01 PM
|
|||
|
|||
|
Legolas allowed himself the luxury of allowing himself the luxury of a stray thought. What new treachery is this? he mused at the form coming slowly toward them through the world-haze. He reached out with senses sharpened by years of Elvish training. It looks like ... no! That cannot be! It must be a vision. Nazgul spies must have poisoned my lembas.
But the self within himself knew that his lembas was uncorrupted, that the vision that he saw now was not merely of a possible future but of an inevitable future. Yet still it strode closer, and closer, its pointed white hat contrasting sharply with the dull oceans of unbroken forestland and mountainrock behind it. Galdalf lives! "I am no longer Gandalf the Grey," the wizard intoned, his white stillrobes glistening in the day's heat. "Through the Trial of the Balrog I came close to death, but now the sleeper has awakened! I shall now be called ... Gandalf-Muad'Dib, the Mithrandir, the Lisan Al'Maia!" -- from Ring Messiah, by Frank Herbert |
|
#34
10-11-2002, 11:06 PM
|
|||
|
|||
|
Someone really ought to report this thread to threadspotting!
The Dr. Suess version is perfect. The Milton is also eerily excellent. James Joyce, anyone? |
|
#35
10-12-2002, 12:26 AM
|
|||
|
|||
|
The trouble with writing an epic, I find, is knowing just where to begin. So here I am, quill and parchment at the ready, a full bowl of pipeweed and, dash it, have great difficulty in beginning! That's the trouble with epics, as I suspect old Treebeard himself would say, and wasn't he a one for insisting that every story begin at the very beginning - of time, that is, and it takes all one's memories of school training to be polite to the old boy when you're rushing to catch an Eagle.
I brought this up with Gandalf when he dropped by yesterday. "Gandalf", I said, "Do you remember that old ROP we dropped into the crack of Mount Doom?" He did, of course. It was one of those rectangular - no, I mean rhetorical - questions. How could one forget? It was a tale to freeze thy blood, to make one's hair stand on end like quills upon the fretful porpentine - though I've never understood why one says porpentine when you mean porcupine. Something to do with elves, no doubt. I had been thinking of making a start by putting one of the elven marching songs on the title page, but all I can remember os 'Ding, dong, ding, dong, ding, dong, I hurry along', which would never do. Elrond would never approve. So Gandalf applied himself to the task at hand - and that's a sight to see that makes strong men gasp and the ladies swoon. You could see the blood whizzing through that magnificent brain of his, chock full of all that health food he grazes on with Tom Bombadil. When there's a problem to be solved, just slip a few nuts and berries to old Gandalf and stand back, I say. Frightening, really. So after a good think, Gandalf suggested Bilbo's eleventy-first birthday, and I knew right away I held the winning ticket, cash for life with no taxation. "Perfect" I told him. "That's just precisely where I'll set the starting post. You have hit the n. right on the h." P. G. Wodehouse
__________________
James I. Hymas jiHymas@himivest.com |
|
#36
10-12-2002, 12:30 AM
|
|||
|
|||
|
I'd do LotR by Stephen Donaldson, but I can't decide who Frodo would rape.
|
|
#37
10-12-2002, 01:07 AM
|
|||
|
|||
|
On this particular evening, something changed hands quietly in the back of a hobbit-hole in the Shire many miles from the dark realm of Mordor. A small, metallic something. Something which could be accurately described as a circular loop of shining metal.
The land of Middle Earth was almost oblivious to the change of ownership, which was wonderful for the two parties concerned. The trade went unnoticed among the citizens of Rivendell, it escaped the Nazgul completely, and even the dark lord himself continued straight on with his day without noticing. This was a pity for him, because it was exactly the thing he had been searching for all these years. -- from The Mostly Harmless Ring of Power, by Douglas Adams |
|
#38
10-12-2002, 01:23 AM
|
|||
|
|||
|
In summer, the scorching sun above Middle-earth sears the land. Perched high on the dome of the sky, it bakes everything down, forcing the Hobbits, the Elves and the men to do their work quickly and retreat to their homes, staying in the cool shade while the orb of light attacks them from overhead. During the winter, on the other hand, the sun only climbs above the horizon for a few hours each day, and then dips back and plunges the world into darkness. The snow drives downward, the winds howl, and everyone, men, Elves, Dwarves, Hobbits, and Orcs, can feel the chill penetrating to their bones.
Frodo had set out from his home in the Shire, hoping for a chance to see the real Middle-earth. While his official purpose for the journey was to destroy a magic ring in the fires of Mount Doom, he had really accepted the invitation to join the quest because he viewed it as an opportunity to experience the genuine outside world. He had heard stories, of course, about how Hobbits who left the Shire, although naïve and ambitious at first, would eventually turn against the other cultures with scorn, and would long for their cozy hobbit-holes, their elaborate tea parties, their pipes of tobacco before second breakfreast. “Is it true what they say about hobbits who journey eastward, that we all eventually lose the spirit of adventure and just want to return to our cozy homes after a few months,” he asked Gandalf once as they sat around the campfire, but the wizard declined to provide a direct answer. Regardless, he had remained inquisitive during the flight from the Nazgul and the stay at Rivendell. But as each day passed and the winter grew colder and more ominous, the dark bulks of the Misty Mountains loomed on the horizon up ahead. Their peaks seeming to be lost in the cloud cover, the mountains dwarfed everything, blotted out everything. Their massive bulks weighed on the members of the Fellowship, and the swirling snow seemed to wrap around them, cutting off and suffocating them. There, on the slopes of the Caradhras, Frodo suddenly felt small and insignificant, as if nothing that a little Hobbit could achieve would ever amount to anything more than that, snowflakes whirling in a storm. from A Passage to Mordor, by E. M. Forster |
|
#42
10-12-2002, 03:56 AM
|
|||
|
|||
|
Charles Dickens, paid by the word, A Tale of Two Towers
IT WAS the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way- in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.
Not a word changed. |
|
#43
10-12-2002, 10:22 AM
|
|||
|
|||
|
Quote:
Or didn't you mean that Homer?
|
|
#44
10-12-2002, 11:43 AM
|
|||
|
|||
|
See Frodo run,
Run Frodo run. See Sauron search, Gollum and Frodo are playing, Oops, Gollum dropped the ring in Mount Doom. Now Sauron will have to find another ring. -- See Frodo Run Frodo crept down the stairs of the of the castle, his invisible cloak sweeping around his legs. He simply had to get the ring into Professor Saurons office without attracting attention. The castle was quite and he made his way without difficulty. A faint light was glowing from under the Professors door but nobody appeared to be in the office. Sneaking in quietly, he saw the volcano on the ledge bubbling quietly. He was just about to throw this ring into the fiery chasm when the door burst open and the Professor strode in. Not having time to think, Frodo Potter froze on the spot, grateful for being invisible. Professor Sauron wasn't the only person who entered the room however. A massive hulking glowing monster had also ambled in alongside him and they were now deep in a conversation. Frodo froze, although he had never met one of those before, he had heard about it enough times to know that the thing standing in front of him was a Balrog! "I want you to send a message to Professor Saruman, Tell him that I am prepared to join forces so that we can both live our lives without worrying about prying eyes. Fly swiftly for I need the message soon" "But I dont have no wings" said the Balrog dumbly "Use a broomstick you fool" snarled professor Sauron and swiftly left the classroom. So it was true thought Frodo Potter, Sauron wan't to get rid of him and he was willing to enlist the help of Saruman to do it. He had to tell his friends Pippin and Merrione, they would know what to do. "striding out of the classroom as fast as he could, he turned down a corridor without looking and a giant flash of green light blinded him. The scar on his forehead was now excruciating with pain. The last thing he saw before he blacked out was the figure of Elrond laughing madly. Frodo gradually became aware that he was now lying in a bed. Trying to get up, he heard a gently voice in his ear. "Ah, Frodo, it seems we are up and about already", it was the gentle voice of Headmaster Gandalf. "I suppose you want to know what happened last night, It turns out that your last Defense against Dark Arts teacher wasn't really Elrond at all but was actually Lord Melkor's minion, Smeagol. You see, nobody actually knew what Elrond looked like before he came to HobbitWarts becuase he kept to himself. When Smeagol arrived, we all assumed it was Elrond. Quite unfortunate really." "But I saw Professor Sauron with that Balrog, he was talking about removing those prying eyes" "Yes, Sauron was one of the first suspect something about Smeagol, it was all those potions full of rotten fish that gave it away he said. He knew he couldn't tackle Smeagol alone so he enlisted the help of Saruman. He was the one who found you unconcious" "You mean... Sauron is innocent?" stammered Frodo "Yes you fool of a Took! I've been trying to tell you that for the last 4 years" snapped Gandalf rather angrily "Now get some rest so we can send you home to your awful Uncle Bilbo" -- Frodo Baggins and the One Ring by JK Rowling ("Frodo Baggins and the Knarliest Ring" in the USA) |
|
#45
10-12-2002, 01:12 PM
|
|||
|
|||
|
Irvine Welsh:
Gandalf hud jest telt us aboot the ring an aw, an ay was feeling a bit queasy like, so ay started cooking up. Ay needed it an all, ye ken? -Can ye dae me a hit too, says Gandalf. --- By now ah'm feelin all barry likes, and me and Gandalf ur discussin the fitba, which was nae a gud idea since ah'm a Hibs supporter and Gandalf's Herts. -Ye fuckin Proddy wanker he shouts at me and I start tae clobber him, a good clean fight n aw, ye ken, until he pulls oot a blade. Ah nivir seen th' cunt so pissed in ehs puff, but ay dinna have tae put oop wi this shite. Ay swear ah'll murder th' bastard, ring or nae ring, land ay Mordor or nae land ay Mordor... |
|
#46
10-14-2002, 06:25 AM
|
|||
|
|||
|
Because I'm.. legally required to submit a version of Chuck Palahniuk's "Lord of Rings" modeled more closely to the book than gonzoron's more movie-like offering: (?)
"Frodo gets me a job as a waiter, after that Mr. Frodo's pushing Sting in my mouth and saying, the first step to eternal life is you have to die. For a long time, though, Frodo and I were best friends. People are always asking me, did I know about Frodo Baggins. The tip of the sword just touched the back of my throat, Frodo says, "We really won't die." With my tongue I can feel the fuller forged into the bottom of the blade. Most of the weight of a sword is in the middle, a mass increasing as the blade broadens for extra cutting power. To reduce the weight and improve manueverability, you forge channels in the face of the blade. This makes it light for its width but helps it retain some cutting power. You forge the fullers too thin, and the blade can break in your hand. "This isn't really death," Frodo says. "We'll be legend. We won't grow old." I tongue the elven blade into my cheek and say, Mr. Frodo, you're thinking of ringwraiths. The mountain we're standing on won't be here in ten minutes. You take a 98 percent concentration of a fuming portion of a dark lord's power and add it to molten gold. Then, pour the gold into a mold in the shape of a ring. Take it out of the mold and remove the sprues in a closed environment, and you have a ring of power. I know this because Frodo knows this. Throw the ring into the fires in which it was forged, and you get a massive explosion that brings down the mountain. A lot of folk feed them to dragons or pay a Balrog to lash the ring. Dragons and Balrogs have never, ever worked for me. So Frodo and I are on top of Mount Doom with Sting stuck in my mouth, and we hear rocks crumbling. Look over the edge. It's always a cloudy day, especially this high up. This is Middle Earth's most evil mountain, and on top of it the wind is always cold. It's so quiet this high up, the feeling you get is that you're one of those Nazgul steeds. You do the little job you're told to do. Get ridden to battle. Confront a shield maiden. You don't understand any of it, and then you just die. Three-thousand feet up up, you look over the edge of the cliff and the plane below is mottled with a shag carpet of orcs, walking, marching to the West. The stone crumbling is the cliff-face right below us. Gollum climbs up the side of mountain, eyes big as Gandalf's old hat as he picks his way up slowly. Bits of ragged clothing catch on jagged rocks and drop, getting smaller, disappearing into the packed crowd." ... So.. there you go. |
|
#47
10-14-2002, 09:23 AM
|
|||
|
|||
|
This thread is turning out much, much better than I thought it would! Utterly fantastic!
Quote:
Old man willow, whistling like a tea pot, shining like a star, oh so brilliant in the dreaming and smoke and by the river, Goldberry's river, dancing like a vision, Bombadil, Bombadil, Bombadillo. Rock of ages, young and ageless, naked before my eyes like Rivendell Rock, sweet and hard and trusting....
|
|
#48
10-14-2002, 11:42 AM
|
|||
|
|||
|
Quote:
Shalmanese The HP one is perfect! Suruga, I bow to your superior version of "Barrow-Wight Club" (I didn't have the book at hand, only the movie script, and forgot how different the intro was.) Drat... I've lost my touch. I've been wracking my brain for an hour trying to do Shakespeare. It's just too hard! Here, I'll do an easy one: As Gandalf the half-celestial wizard took blow after crushing blow from the Balrog, Frodo the halfling rogue stood in shock. His shortsword of quickness, Sting, would do nothing against that beast. It's damage reduction was just too great. Just then, on Gandalf's initiative, a deafening blast was heard, as he cast Rary's destructive dweomer, sending both he and the wandering monster into the depths of Kazad-dum. The Fellowship was devastated, but once out of the caverns they realized that they had all gained valuable experience that would take them to new levels of strength. So, Gandalf's sacrifice was not in vain. And who knows, perhaps the clerics in the next town could raise him? They went off together in search of a tavern... -From LoTR, the D&D novel (1st book in the 12-part Mithrillance series) |
|
#49
10-14-2002, 11:54 AM
|
|||
|
|||
|
Yeats is turning in his grave...
Another easy one: (my first post ever!) most humble apologies to all for the terrible rape of this poem.
WB Yeats The Lake Isle of The Grey Havens I will arise and sail now, and sail to the Grey Havens, And a small tower build there, of mithril and magic made: Nine ent friends will I have there, a hole for the hobbit free, And live alone in the pipe weed glade. |
|
#50
10-14-2002, 07:30 PM
|
|||
|
|||
|
gonzoron: Heh. If you're going to do LotR as a D&D novel, you might as well go all the way:
"A balrog!" Gandalf rasped. "I might have known!" Pippin hauled out his well-worn copy of the Monstrous Manual, while Merry peeked over his shoulder. "I don't see 'Balrog' listed in the index anywhere." "Of course not, foolish Took," the high-level mage chided him. "The copyright to the 'Balrog' name is owned by the Tolkien estate. Gygax had to call it 'Balor' or a 'Type VI demon' when he put the MM together." Merry quickly thumbed to the Demon section, only to recall that in 2nd Edition, "Demons" and "Devils" had been renamed Baatezu and Tanar'ri, although he never could remember which was which. He cursed the Fundamentalist Christian parents' groups who had threatened to boycott TSR for creating a "demonic" game, and which had forced that particularly stupid name-change upon them. Finally, though, he located "Balor" in the Tanar'ri section, grateful that they weren't among the discontinued demon listings like Orcus and Demogorgon. "They're only 13 hit dice," Merry dutifully reported, "But they can cast dispel magic every round at 20th level, so watch yourself, Gandalf!" "That also do 4d8 damage if they make a to-hit roll with their whip and drag you close to their bodies," Gimli noted. "I'm outta here!" He turned and ran at his full movement rate of 9 (12 if he wasn't wearing armor). "Leave him to me," the mage intoned. "They're worth 46,000 experience points apiece, and if I kill him by myself, I get all of those points!" He strode toward the Balr-- er, Balor, and blocked the 10-foot-wide corridor leading out of the room. "You shall not pass!!" |
|
#52
10-15-2002, 09:22 AM
|
|||
|
|||
|
LOTR: Choose Your Own Adventure
You're sitting in your hole, smoking a pipe and drinking some fine hobbit ale, when the door knocks. Outside, there's Gandalf the Wizard. Do you let him in? If yes, go to page 65, if no, turn to page 43. Page 65 "Ah, my dear Frodo, it's good to see you. Now, my boy, I'm here on urgent business. The magic ring your Uncle Bilbo took from Gollum is cursed, and must be taken far from here, until we decide what to do with it. Will you take on this mission?" If yes, go to page 13, if no, turn to page 72: Page 72: "Your courage does you honor, Frodo. Take this ring, and I'll meet you later. Do you want me to meet you at Galdriel's tree fortress or at Elrond's palace?" For Galadriel's fortress, go to page 88, for Elrond's palace, turn to page 27. Page 68: As you enter the forest, the beautiful Galadriel and her footmen greet you. She says, "My, you're courageous to take this quest. Carrying that ring must be exhausting. Would you like to keep it, or give it to me?" To keep the ring, go to page 47, to give it to Galadriel, turn to page 88. Page 88: "HAHAHAHAHAHA, you foolish halfling," she cries. "Now I am beautiful and terrible and mighty, and will rule all the Earth." As she laughs, she signals her minions to torure you to death. At least, you die knowing you won't be around to see all of Earth under her tyranny. THE END |
|
#53
10-15-2002, 11:10 AM
|
|||
|
|||
|
Hello,
I found out about this thread over on swordforum.com. I hope you all don't mind, but I couldn't resist! Here's mine... Shaw Brothers/Kung-fu theater style… (All dubbed dialogue that doesn’t quite match lip movement, of course!) One Ring of Death (aka Ninja Fellowship, aka A Halfling Loaf of Kung Fu, aka Shaolin Versus Mordor, aka Superfighters) [Gimli and Legolas finished off the last Orc with dual sidekicks to either side of the Orc’s neck.] Gimli and Legolas: (Simultaneously) That’s six! Still tied! [Suddenly the Chief Abbot appears at the other side of the Moria Bridge.] Chief Abbot: Why, you! How dare ya disrupt my plansssss!!! Gandalf: Chief Abbot! Chief Abbot: Fool! Haven’t you figured it out by now? I’m really the Balrog! All: Ah! Balrog/Chief Abbot: For years now, I’ve been exiled into these caves. But what you didn’t know is… I’ve found the lost book! Gandalf: You mean… Balrog/Chief Abbot: Ah, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, haaaaaaa! Balrog/Chief Abbot: That’s right! The book of the five fiery fists. And I’ve finally mastered it too. Frodo: Why, you! [Frodo has flash-back of quick cut scenes showing the murder of his parents.] Frodo: You must pay! [Frodo leaps forward only to be thrown back by Gandalf.] Gandalf: No! Your kung fu is still too weak. Go! Take the ring to mount doom. Learn it’s secret style. And avenge my death! [Gandalf leaps forward, kicking the Balrog in the chest.] [Balrog staggers back a few steps and then steadies himself.] Balrog/Chief Abbot: Right. [Balrog gives thumbs up to Gandalf] Your beggars Kung Fu really is peerless. But still. You’re wastin’ your time if you think you can beat me! [Balrog leaps forward, easily deflects a few of Gandalf’s blows, and plants an eagle claw to Gandalf’s throat.] Gandalf: (Strangling) You’ve forgotten one thing. My secret kick. [And with that, Gandalf slams his foot down on the bridge, sending them both into the abyss.] Frodo: Maaaaassssttteeeerrrrrrr!!!!!!!! |
|
#54
10-15-2002, 12:03 PM
|
|||
|
|||
|
Well, not really writers, but:
LotR with Sportscaster Commentary (preferably Madden) The army that wins will be the one that kills more of the enemy while not getting as many of themselves killed. What's important for the forces of good? Turnovers. The forces of good can't turn over that ring. Turning over that ring will have a definite impact on the outcome of this war. Watch as the pocket collapses around the Nazgul King and BOOM! He's down. Let's go down to our battlefield sideline reporter for an update on Theoden. "Well, John, the word is that Theoden has been hit with a dart and mortally wounded, so his return for the second half is (wait for it) questionable." And, of course: The evil that is Sauron pales in comparision to the throwing ability of Brett Farve. You guys got any more? |
|
#55
10-15-2002, 12:28 PM
|
|||
|
|||
|
I took the cart to the Shire, where the inhabitants average about 3 feet in height, which is about the same distance a Democrat's hand is from the ground as he's about to filch your wallet. As the cart bounced on the root-laden dirt road that the hobbits apparently tended to as much as the Bosnian legislature tends to their bullethole removal fund, I finally saw Frodo, pipe in hand. I wondered if the weed was Cuban, smuggled into this country by Elian Gonzales's cabin mates.
Frodo is your typical hobbit, about as prescient to events going on in the outside world as goldfish are of Eminem's tatooes. Yet let one of these pubic-footed Under the Rainbow extras out of the Shire, and he somehow steals the most powerful weapon in the known world and brings it back. It's the equivalent of letting your canary fly out of the cage for a few minutes and having her return with a fully-armed Russian tactical nuke. Frodo acts like he's got some kind of issue with me, but fortunately a lit sparkler out of my backpack makes him forget. I wonder how many sparklers it will take for me to convince him to forget the dangers of taking the most powerful weapon in the known world over to the black pits of hell from which it spawned to destroy it. Fortunately, I brought a 12-pack. P. J. O'Rourke, Lord of the Futon |
|
#56
10-15-2002, 12:39 PM
|
|||
|
|||
|
Quote:
|
|
#57
10-15-2002, 01:16 PM
|
|||
|
|||
|
I sing of Rings, and the halfling who,
Forced by fate and eveil Sauron's unrelenting stare, First left the Shires for the mountains for Mordor. Long labors, both by water and land he bore, Until the doubtful war was won, the destined tower razed, The evil gods banished by rites arcane, And settled sure succession in Aragorn's line, Whence comes the race of human kings, And the long glories of majestic Gondor. -- The Gondoriad, Vergil |
|
#60
10-15-2002, 02:36 PM
|
|||
|
|||
|
The Reverend Dodgson submits the following:
Frodo was beginning to get very tired of living with his uncle Bilbo in Hobbiton and of having nothing to do: once or twice he had peeped into the red book in which Bilbo was writing, but he couldn’t make it out and it did not have enough pictures of elves, ‘and what is the use of a book,' thought Frodo `without pictures of elves?'
So he was considering in his own mind (as well as she could, for the hot day made him feel very sleepy and stupid), whether the pleasure of having an ale with Sam in Bywater would be worth the trouble of getting up and collecting Same, when suddenly a dwarf with a blue hood and walking stick ran close by him. There was nothing so very remarkable in that; nor did Frodo think it so very much out of the way to hear the Dwarf say to himself, `Oh dear! Oh dear! I shall be late! And Balin will be so angry with me' (when he thought it over afterwards, it occurred to him that he ought to have wondered at this, but at the time it all seemed quite natural); but when the dwarf actually took a large axe out of its belt, and swung it a few times as if preparing for battle, and then hurried on, Frodo started to his feet, for it flashed across his mind that he had never before seen a Dwarf in Hobbiton with either an axe or a belt to remove it from, and burning with curiosity, he ran across the field after it, and fortunately was just in time to see it pop down a large hole under the hedge. In another moment down went Frodo after it, never once considering how in the world he was to get out again. The hole went straight on like a tunnel for some way, and then dipped suddenly down, so suddenly that Frodo had not a moment to think about stopping himself before he found himself falling down a very deep well. Either the well was very deep, or he fell very slowly, for he had plenty of time as he went down to look about him and to wonder what was going to happen next. First, he tried to look down and make out what he was coming to, but it was too dark to see anything; then he looked at the sides of the well, and noticed that they were filled with cupboards and book-shelves; here and there she saw maps of Middle Earth and pictures of dragons hung upon pegs. He took down a jar from one of the shelves as he passed; it was labeled `LEMBAS,' but to his great disappointment it was empty . . . . From Frodo's Adventures in Middle Earth, by Lewis Carroll. |
|
#61
10-15-2002, 02:38 PM
|
|||
|
|||
|
The Reverend Dodgson submits the following:
Frodo was beginning to get very tired of living with his uncle Bilbo in Hobbiton and of having nothing to do: once or twice he had peeped into the red book in which Bilbo was writing, but he couldn’t make it out and it did not have enough pictures of elves, ‘and what is the use of a book,' thought Frodo `without pictures of elves?'
So he was considering in his own mind (as well as she could, for the hot day made him feel very sleepy and stupid), whether the pleasure of having an ale with Sam in Bywater would be worth the trouble of getting up and collecting Same, when suddenly a dwarf with a blue hood and walking stick ran close by him. There was nothing so very remarkable in that; nor did Frodo think it so very much out of the way to hear the Dwarf say to himself, `Oh dear! Oh dear! I shall be late! And Balin will be so angry with me' (when he thought it over afterwards, it occurred to him that he ought to have wondered at this, but at the time it all seemed quite natural); but when the dwarf actually took a large axe out of its belt, and swung it a few times as if preparing for battle, and then hurried on, Frodo started to his feet, for it flashed across his mind that he had never before seen a Dwarf in Hobbiton with either an axe or a belt to remove it from, and burning with curiosity, he ran across the field after it, and fortunately was just in time to see it pop down a large hole under the hedge. In another moment down went Frodo after it, never once considering how in the world he was to get out again. The hole went straight on like a tunnel for some way, and then dipped suddenly down, so suddenly that Frodo had not a moment to think about stopping himself before he found himself falling down a very deep well. Either the well was very deep, or he fell very slowly, for he had plenty of time as he went down to look about him and to wonder what was going to happen next. First, he tried to look down and make out what he was coming to, but it was too dark to see anything; then he looked at the sides of the well, and noticed that they were filled with cupboards and book-shelves; here and there he saw maps of Middle Earth and pictures of dragons hung upon pegs. He took down a jar from one of the shelves as he passed; it was labeled `LEMBAS,' but to his great disappointment it was empty . . . . From Frodo's Adventures in Middle Earth, by Lewis Carroll. |
|
#62
10-15-2002, 02:45 PM
|
|||
|
|||
|
Suprised someone else hasn't come up with this one:
"What's it going to be then, eh?" There was me, that is Frodo, and my three droogs, that is Merry, Pippin, and Sam, Sam being really dim, and we sat in the Prancing Pony making up our rassoodocks what to do with the evening, a flip dark chill winter bastard... That's all I've got today. Someone with more talent can continue it. |
|
#63
10-15-2002, 05:52 PM
|
|||
|
|||
|
Hehehehehe, O man, these are just great!!
Tom Wolfe His head still on the pillow, Frodo Baggins groaned. The sound of the knocking on the door of the Prancing Pony was shaking the poisonous yolk that was his head, shaking it, threatening to break it. The yolk was as heavy as unforged mithril, and it tilted this way and that, painful as orc-spear in naked flesh. If the yolk broke, he was finished. What had he been doing last night? He looked with disgust at the filthy clothes he had left scattered on the floor, at the sloppy arrangement of blankets on the floor that had served him for the bed. A man-sized chair of rickety wood was by the fireplace. Dear God, the Breelanders and their cheap substitutes for real furniture. Again the yolk shifted. Something about last night. Merry and Pippin had been getting drunk on Butterbur's tab, and he had joined them even though he only had twenty silver pennies and those had to last him until Rivendell...something about the Ring. Frodo jerked his head up and immediately the yolk crashed into his skull. His head fell again. He had sung some outrageously stupid song of that old prat Bilbo's, and even Sam had come in by then and had asked him to sing it again and Frodo, drunk with beer and attention, had agreed and then he had fallen and the Ring had fallen too - The knocking continued. He had to answer or he would never get to sleep again. He stood up, clutching at the legs of the chair as the yolk shifted again. He would never drink again. Never! Not so much as a small miruvor until Rivendell - he would be reformed from today on. The knocking continued. "Oh, come in!" Frodo tried to yell, but ended in a feeble groan. God, the Breelanders, he thought again. The Ring. Why did I ever come here in the first place? |
|
#64
10-15-2002, 06:49 PM
|
|||
|
|||
|
Quote:
Anyone who hasn't watched that link, really really needs to. I am gobsmacked. Fingolfin, did you do that yourself? How long did it take you? I want the "making-of" extras please! click-the-link-click-the-link-click-the-link-click-the-link-click-the-link-click-the-link |
|
#65
10-15-2002, 07:08 PM
|
|||
|
|||
|
Frodo jacked in.
He felt huge, invincible, unstoppable. Some small part of him knew that was the hits of pipe-weed talking, skewing his sense of self, making his nerves scream like they were being raked over rusted chrome. Knew, and didn't care. Over his shoulder he could feel Sam hovering, a hollow nonentity. It was eerie knowing he was back there, like having an itch in a limb long amputated. All around him the middle-matrix arced off into an impossible blue infinity, gridlines benchmarking the empty nonspace. "There it is," came Sam's voice. "That's the ice. Good luck breakin' in there, man, that was made by a military AI. Name of ephelduath. You ain't seen nuthin' like it. They say it's two way ice. Not only will it fry your brainpan tryin' to get in, nuthin' inside can work its way out. Leastaways, not without sarumancer's say-so." Frodo wished Sam would shut the hell up. He also wished he wasn't about to do what he came for. He wished a lot of things. He surveyed this sector of cyberspace. Before him was the ephelduath ice, shadowy and indistinct, and very very deadly. And beyond it, just visible through the whorls of lethal, greasy code, was sarumancer himself. The Dark Lord presented in the middle-matrix as a collosal data construct, angular and hideous. A mountain of vicious, evil information so dense it was hard to look at, hard to take in all at once. It played tricks on the eyes. Each nodule, each piece of it seemed to contain a perfect glittering symmetry. A simple frightening geometry. But taken altogether it became a great organic pyramidal thing, a digital volcano spewing mirrored liquid spheres of awareness out into the void. These spheres, Frodo knew, served as sarumancer's eyes. When they intersected a gridline, at random, they would latch onto it and streak off in an unchosen direction in a vain effort to apprehend, to know, to see, all of the middle-matrix at once. Here we go. He drew out the elvish icebreaker and contemplated its image for a moment. Given to him by Galadriel herself. He activated it, his unseen fingers moving fluidly over the keys of his Ono-Sendai. Triggered, the icebreaker flared up, a searing point of magnesium brilliance. He clicked forward, towards the ice. Slowly. Click. Carefully. Click. The elvish icebreaker encountered ephelduath's handiwork, and forced it to recede. The ice's killer algorithms spiralled futiley around Frodo and Sam as they rode the icebreaker inwards... From The Lord of the Rings by William Gibson |
|
#66
10-15-2002, 07:16 PM
|
|||
|
|||
|
Quote:
He who, excepting for shoes, was never at a loss; ring-bearer, nine-fingered, Frodyesseus, the far-wanderer sailor of leaf-boats, smoker of pipe-weed put-up-wither of of halfwitted cousins and employees, you know, the guy you have to spend about ten minutes introducing before anything happens. Homer, "The Frodyessy" |
|
#68
10-15-2002, 09:13 PM
|
|||
|
|||
|
The Khazad-dum Bridge Disaster
Beautiful Stony Bridge of the Dwarven mines!
Alas! I am very sorry to say That two lives have been taken away On the last (Third Age) day of 1879, Which will be remember'd for a very long time. 'Twas about seven o'clock at night, And the Balrog it burn't with all its might, And the fire came pouring down, And the dark orcs seem'd to frown, And the Demon of the fire seem'd to say- "I'll pass across the Bridge today." When the party left Rivendell The Fellowship's hearts were light and they felt quite well, But Boromir threw a terrific strop, Which made their hearts for to stop, And many of the Fellowship with fear did hum- "I hope Elbereth Gilthoniel will send us safe across the Bridge of Khazad-dum." But when the hobbits were ready to feed their tum, The Balrog he gathered his orcish scum, And shook the whole structure of the Bridge of Khazad-dum On the last (Third Age) day of 1879, Which will be remember'd for a very long time. So the Wizard mov'd slowly along the Bridge of Khazad-dum, Until he was looking at the Balrog's bum, Then the whole bridge gave way with a hiss, And down went Gandalf and Fiend into the abyss! The Fiery Fiend did loudly quip, Because he'd gotten Gandalf with his whip, On the last (Third Age) day of 1879, Which will be remember'd for a very long time. As soon as the catastrophe which could not have been worse The alarm from mouth to mouth spread from river to firth, And the cry rang out all o'er Middle Earth, The Khazad-dum Bridge is blown down - O Elbereth! And in the Fellowship from Rivendell, Of which all the people were scared as h*ll, Because they all heard Gandalf's yell "Fly, you fools!" Well, none had breath to to tell How the disaster happen'd on the last last (Third Age) day of 1879, Which will be remember'd for a very long time. by William F. McGonagall see: http://www.taynet.co.uk/users/mcgon/disaster.htm |
|
#69
10-15-2002, 09:34 PM
|
|||
|
|||
|
The unofficial Australian version...
Once a jolly wizard camped by a dwarven mine,
Under the shade of the mountains misty, And he sang as he watched and waited 'til his password worked, "Who'll come Ring-bearing young Frodo with me? Ring-bearing Frodo, Ring-bearing Frodo, Who'll come Ring-bearing young Frodo with me?" And he sang as he watched and waited 'til his password worked, Who'll come Ring-bearing young Frodo with me?" Down came a monster to grab at that Ring-bearer: Up jumped Lego-las and loaded his bow with glee, And he sang as he fired all his arrows at that mo-onster, "Who'll come Ring-bearing young Frodo with me? Ring-bearing Frodo, Ring-bearing Frodo, Who'll come Ring-bearing young Frodo with me?" And he sang as he fired all his arrows at that mo-onster, Who'll come Ring-bearing young Frodo with me?" Up came a Numorean, carrying his broken sword; Down came the hobbits, one, two, three: "Where's that coat of mithril you've got underneath your shirt? "Who'll come Ring-bearing young Frodo with me? Ring-bearing Frodo, Ring-bearing Frodo, Who'll come Ring-bearing young Frodo with me?" "Where's that coat of mithril you've got underneath your shirt? Who'll come Ring-bearing young Frodo with me?" Up jumped the pony Bill and fled from the scene quickly; "You'll never take me in there!" thought he; And his neighs may be heard as you pass by that dwarven mine, "Who'll come Ring-bearing young Frodo with me? Ring-bearing Frodo, Ring-bearing Frodo, Who'll come Ring-bearing young Frodo with me?" And his neighs may be heard as you pass by that dwarven mine, Who'll come Ring-bearing young Frodo with me?" Apologies to A.B. "Banjo" Paterson |
|
#70
10-15-2002, 09:57 PM
|
|||
|
|||
|
Perhaps a feeble effort, but here it is.
Whan that aprill with his shoures soote Old Hobbiton hath perced to the roote, And Frodo drinken down in swich licour Of which vertu he passeth happy hour; Whan Gandalphus eek with his wise voice Inspired hath in Frodo's heart a choice, (so priketh him nature in his corages); To join odd folk to goon on pilgrimages, And travel far to seken straunge strondes, To ferne halwes, kowthe in sondry londes; And specially from this homely shire's ende To Mordor, evil's keep, to wende To cast into the fire this One great Ring ... -- Geoffrey Chaucer, The Canterbury Ring
__________________
Bob the Random Expert Roped in by a Texan! |
|
#71
10-16-2002, 12:30 AM
|
|||
|
|||
|
"Before I free myself from this abyss, Master Frodo,
Sam said when he had stood up straight, "tell me enough I see I don't mistake; where is the ring? And how is Sauron so placed head downward? Tell me, too, how has the sun in so few hours gone from night to morning?" And he to me: "You still believe you are north of center middle-earth, where I met the gaze of the unblinking eye who pierces through the world. And you were there as long as I descended; but when I turned, that's when you passed the point to which, from every, part, the rings weight from me is drawn." There is a place beyond, the limit of that sea, its farthest point from Sauron, a place one cannot see: it is discovered by ship-there is a sounding sea that flows along the hollow of a rock, and the slope is easy. So Gandalf and Frodo came upon that hidden road to make their way back into the bright world with no care for any rest, they sailed Gandalf first, Frodo following-until he saw through a round opening, some of those things of beauty the Deathless Lands bear. It was from there that they emerged, to see-once more-the stars. Frodo's Inferno |
|
#72
10-16-2002, 01:42 AM
|
|||
|
|||
|
So I put the thing on, and I'm (like) invisible. I'm not, as anyone around here will tell you, in the business of wearing jewelry, but damn, this little gold ring kicks more @ss than anyone should rightly possess.
--Tycho Brahe (www.penny-arcade.com) Err... I don't know where that came from. But I *do* know where this came from: Belrond lounged indolently back in his chair, scratching at his formal purple robe in mild irritation. "Why do I have to wear this thing, anyway?" Arwen smirked at him. "I think it helps them to think of you as somewhat respectable, Old Wolf. Frodo, if you don't stop playing with it, it will never leave you alone." Frodo looked up from the glowing blue ring in his lap. "But it keeps singing to me. Why's it doing that?" Belrond and Arwen exchanged a glance. "It does that to everyone, Frodo. Now, put it back in your pouch and let's go. I'm sure the council is about to start." As if on cue, Legolas entered, bowing deeply. "Ancient and Beloved, Lady Arwen, the kings have assembled and await thy presence." Rolling his eyes, Belrond lead them down the hallway towards the council chamber. Frodo stared at the rich tapestries and columns of pure white marble, thinking how a few months ago, he had been living in a simple hobbit-hole, and Aunt Arwen was just Aunt Arwen and not someone to be treated with respect by kings. As they rounded a corner, Belrond was nearly floored by a dirty fist. Legolas watching in disbelief, Belrond wrestled his assailant to the ground, each of them letting out a stream of curses that curled Frodo's ears. Finally, they separated, and Belrond cursed again, muttering "What's got into that ratty excuse for a head on your shoulders, Gandalf?" His opponent, a hairy, misshapen fellow clad in grimy grey robes, glared back. "That's for sending me to Saruman's tower on a fool's errand, Belrond. The old goat sat me on his roof for three months. I'm lucky he lost concentration and let me shift into falcon form before I started getting too hungry." With a belch, he turned his attention to Arwen. "You're getting fat, Arwen. Aragorn finally knock you up, or you just letting yourself go?" Legolas gasped, but Arwen regarded the ugly wizard calmly. "When's the last time you took a bath, Gandalf?" Gandalf shrugged negligently, scratching himself "I think a storm rained on me a couple years ago, while I was watching Kal Sauron's tomb." ... -- Lord of the (Blue) Rings, by David Eddings Okay, I lied, I don't know where that come from either. But it's clear that I'm definitely going to Hell, now. And for those of you who claim Gandalf should have been Belgarath, well.. a pox on both your houses. --the Mouse |
|
#73
10-16-2002, 02:48 AM
|
|||
|
|||
|
A little Hawthorne, anyone?
The ring had become for him more than a quest, more than a burden. Even in its absence its presence grew, to become an emblem of the languid darkness that crept between Mordor and Shire, Hobbit and friend, unsolaced mind and weary heart. For the rest of his days, the veiled weight pulled his tired eyes abjectly down, away from the shining light of his Creator, and into the dark heart that beat within all, whether, Hobbit, Elf or man. On occasion, the faint smile of a younger self glimmered on his grim visage, as a sputtering candle casts its own shadow of light across the landscape of darkness.
|
|
#74
10-16-2002, 03:46 AM
|
|||
|
|||
|
OK, I'll try Piers Anthony.
-------------------------- Shelob gazed at Samwise with frank interest. Now that he could see her better, her spidery aspect was less fearsome. She was some woman! "I'm sorry, Shelob," he said diffidently, "but I must deliver the Ring to the Crack of Doom. I cannot abate my onus." "Because I'm a spider!" she flared. Samwise was taken aback. This was some feminine logic! Samwise considered. Probably he should simply stick her with Sting--the sexual connotation was apt! But his conscience balked. And he was flattered; few females--human or otherwise-- would be content with a man of his height. "I'm sorry," he said again, lamely. "I must go." He withdrew the Phial of Galadriel and displayed it to Shelob. Shrieking curses, she retreated before him, her female form tempting him still-- No! He would not be distracted. Suddenly he remembered with fresh urgency: Frodo was alive, but taken by the enemy. ---------------------------------- Please accept my apologies for that. Fingolfin, I hope you have an industrial strength server hosting that movie, because I bet it's gonna get slammed if word of this gets out (and I strongly suspect that some of the www.memepool.com folks peek in here every once in a while). Nice to see so many people delurking for this thread. Welcome, y'all! |
|
#75
10-16-2002, 08:32 AM
|
|||
|
|||
|
Re: The Khazad-dum Bridge Disaster
Iteki: No, sadly I did not go that.
I am not sure who did, but it is fantastic!Quote:
Testudo here, AKA Fingolfin. I didn't know you were a Tolkien fan. |
|
#76
10-16-2002, 09:36 AM
|
|||
|
|||
|
The Lord of the Rings by John Cage:
THE RING!!!!!!!!! The End. |
|
#77
10-16-2002, 10:14 AM
|
|||
|
|||
|
What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow
Out of this stony rubbish? Son of Halfling, You cannot say, or guess, for you know only A heap of broken images, where the sun beats, And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief, And the dry stone no sound of water. Only There is shadow within dark Mordor, (Come in under the shadow of dark Mordor), And I will show you something different from either Your shadow at morning striding behind you Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you; I will show you fear in a circlet of gold. Frisch weht der Wind Der Shire zu. Mein Hobbitisch Kind, Wo weilest du? 'You gave me the Ring first a year ago; 'They called me the Ringbearer.' --Yet when we came back, late, from Orodruin, Your finger missing, and your strength gone, I could not Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither Living nor dead, and I knew nothing, Looking into the heart of darkness, the silence. Oed' und leer das Land. Madame Galadriel, famous Elf Queen, Had a forbidding realm, nevertheless Is known to be the wisest woman in Middle-Earth, With a wicked pack of cards. Here, said she, Is your card, the drowned Wizard, (Those are the grey robes that were his garb. Look!) Here is Eowyn, the Lady of the Horses, The lady of battle. Here is the man with many colors, and here the Staff, And here is the one-eyed Sauron, and this card, Which is blank, is something he searches for in your pack, Which I am forbidden to see. I do not find The Uruk-Hai. Fear death by Nazgul. I see crowds of people, talking about a Ring. Thank you. If you see dear Master Gamgee, Tell him I bring the mallorn myself: One must be so careful these days. Lord of the Waste Land, by T.S. Eliot
__________________
"Sure it's easy to guffaw, but when the Chicago Symphony blows up your car we'll see who's laughing." - kidchameleon |
|
#78
10-16-2002, 10:35 AM
|
|||
|
|||
|
The Lord of the Rings. S. Morgenstern's Classic Tale of True Love and High Adventure (the Good Parts version by William Goldman):
The year that Arwen was born, the most beautiful woman in the world was a Gondor scullery maid named Annette. Annette worked in Gondor for the Steward and Stewardess (this was before the King returned), and it did not escape notice of the Steward's that someone extraordinary was polishing the mithril. This notice in turn did not escape the notice of the Stewardess either, who was not very beautiful and not very rich, but plenty smart. The Stewardess set about studying Annette and shortly found her adversary's tragic flaw. Chocolate. Armed now, the Stewardess set to work. Minas Tirith turned into a candy castle. Everywhere you looked, bonbons, truffles, mints. Annete never had a chance. She soon went from dainty to enormous. And the Steward never glanced her way again without sad bewilderment. (It must be mentioned that Annette seemed only cheerier through these events.) The Steward's notice soon turned to his mother-in-law. The Stewardess noticed this too, and became grumpy about the whole thing. Not surprisingly, the Stewardess's grumpiness became legendary, as Voltaire has so ably chronicled. Except this was before Voltaire.) *Skip a bunch of beautiful people becoming ugly over the next fifteen years.* Arwen, of course, at fifteen, knew none of the other goings on. And if she had, she would not have understood what difference it made who was the most beautiful. (Arwen at this time was barely in the top twenty, and that was out of potential only.) She hated washing her face and combing her hair and other such activities. Her favorite things to do were riding her horse and taunging the orphaned ranger boy. Arwen named her horse "Horse." (She was never long on imagination.) It did what she told it. So did the Ranger boy. Actually, he was more of a young man now, but that didn't matter. She had always called him Ranger Boy and did so still. She'd say "Ranger Boy, fetch this. Ranger Boy, kill the necromancer. Hurry up now or I'll tell father." "As you wish." That was all he ever answered. "As you wish." Now it must be mentioned that S. Morgenstern was rather long winded. So I relate this tale to you as my father told it to me with only the important parts left in. Morgenstern loved to go off about the courtly rituals of the elves, and how one was supposed to conduct oneself when dining with them. It really is only of interest to one from Middle Earth himself..... *Cut to Aragorn fighting the orcs in Moria.* My name is Aragorn, son of Arathorn, heir of Isuldur. You killed my father. Prepare to die.
__________________
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I websurfed, weak and weary, Over many a strange and spurious website of 'hot chicks galore', While I clicked my fav'rite bookmark, suddenly there came a warning, And my heart was filled with mourning, mourning for my dear amour. "'Tis not possible!" I muttered, "Give me back my cheap hardcore!" Quoth the server: "404". |
|
#79
10-16-2002, 01:33 PM
|
|||
|
|||
|
Quote:
1. Plaintiff and party of the first part, Sauron ("Sauron") is a(n) (un)natural person, and resident and domiciliary of Mordor. 2. Defendant and party of the second part, Frodo Baggins ("Frodo") is a natural person and resident of Hobbiton. Co-Defendant and party of the third part Samwise Gamgee ("Sam") is likewise same. 3. All parties being properly diverse, jurisdiction is proper pursuant to 28 M.E.C. 1332. Damages far exceed the minimum jurisdiction of the court. 4. Defendant has converted and trespassed against the chattel and personalty of the plaintiff, namely, the One Ring ("Ring") and is liable to plaintiff for same. 5. Plaintiff would further show on or about the final day of the Third Age, defendants did intentionally cause the destruction of Ring while plaintiff was engaged in defending his business from hostile takeover. In the alternative, plaintiff pleads that the actions of the defendants toward ring amount to recklessness, gross negligence, and negligence. 6. As a direct result of destruction of Ring, plaintiff has suffered actual damages in the form of irreparable harm to his business and personal reputation, as well as direct and indirect loss of income. Plaintiff has further suffered from mental anguish, humiliation, and loss of consortium. 7. Insofar as actions of defendants were intentional, plaintiff further requests punitive damages in the amount of treble his actual damages. WHEREFORE, PLAINTIFF, SAURON, PRAYS FOR: all reasonable damages above named; FURTHER, plaintiff prays for all additional relief in law or equity deemed necessary and proper by this honorable court. Respectfully submitted, Mouth of Sauron Attorney for Plaintiff Middle Earth Bar No. 734925639 |
|
#80
10-16-2002, 04:07 PM
|
|||
|
|||
|
Quote:
Brilliant, just brilliant! Ian Hunter (Writer and Performer of 'Cleveland Rocks') One, Two, Three, Four! Ah-ah-ah-ah! Ah-ah-ah-ah! Elrond’s Council’s sending me, Back where the Ring was made. Sauron’s a cruel Enemy. It’s such a long, hard way. All the hobbit folk living down on the Row going: Bilbo rocks! Gandalf rocks! Sneakin’ Sméagol throttled little Déagol, then: Chorus 1: Precious rocks! (4 times) Saruman knows but he don’t care; He got his problems too. Palantír and a traitor’s White Hand, And the tribute’s due. All the little orcs with the crimson swords go: Orthanc rocks! Mordor rocks! Killin’ in sin with a great big grin they go: Chorus 2: Nazgûl rock! (4 times) I’ve got some weapons from the War - Age Two. I use ‘em just like Dúnedain do. They hate the villains, and I do too. Oh! Strider rocks! Yeah! Elfstone rocks! So grab a knife, Find some strife, And yell and scream for War! Chorus 3: Frodo rocks! (4 times) (Repeat Chorus 3) (Repeat Chorus 3) Chorus ad lib: Gandalf rocks! Aragorn rocks! Samwise rocks! Bilbo rocks! Galadriel rocks! Elrond rocks! Glorfindel rocks! Pippin rocks! Merry rocks! Gimli rocks! Legolas rocks! Boromir rocks! Faramir rocks! Éomer rocks! Éowyn rocks! Arwen rocks! Frodo rocks! Frodo’s what it’s made of. I said: Frodo rocks! (4 times) I said: Frodo rocks! (4 times) Frodo rocks! (4 times) Three, four! ... (4 times) Instrumental finale |
|
#81
10-16-2002, 04:37 PM
|
|||
|
|||
|
Isildur I, Part 1
Scene: Barad-Dur
[Flourish. Enter Gil-galad, Elendil, Isildur.] Gil-galad: Se'en years, hath we laid siege to the dark tower. And e'en yet the dark lord himself now approacheth. Elendil: Yay, forsooth. The host of Mordor hath we lain waste, and all orcs and trolls hath their liege forsook. [Enter Sauron] Sauron: Of minions now have I no need. Mere elf-lords and lowly men shall quail before the wrath of the maia uncloak'ed. [They fight. Gil-galad and Elendil die.] Isildur: Araunt, lord of darkness. For the life of my sire, thou shalt pay dearly. [They fight. Sauron falls] Sauron: Unseamed am I from nave to chaps. Seek me tomorrow, and you shall find me a grave fellow--fingerless, bereft of that jewel which once held all in its sway, all is lost. [dies] Isildur: For weregild shall I claim this. It shall be an heirloom to my kingdom. [Exeunt] |
|
#82
10-16-2002, 04:51 PM
|
|||
|
|||
|
A meara! A meara!
My kingdom for a meara! As a closet Eddings fan, the Belrond one had me giggling madly. Lots of other great adaptations, as well. How about: Did you ever wonder just what is it with rings? You've got those nine wraithmakers, for example. You'd think the dummies would read the Steward-required warnings: "May cause gulness. Wear at your own risk." And the seven midget...er, dwarf rings. How much brainpower does it take to figure out that carrying your gold around in your underwear so it can't be stolen is kind of sick? Only the Elves managed to cop to the Dark Lord's plan...and believe me, they aren't going to let you forget it! -A Few Ages with Andy Rooney |
|
#83
10-16-2002, 05:23 PM
|
|||
|
|||
|
The Little Ring by Hans Christian Andersen
Once there was a beautiful golden ring that had been made by a terrible lord. This wicked lord wished to be the king of all the world. He made the little ring to help him gain power over the many good kings and queens who ruled in the lands about him. The little ring was very proud that he was such a splendid ring. He knew that all who saw him wished to own him and be as powerful as the wicked lord. He saw many ride in battle to try to overthrow the wicked lord, but none ever succeeded. "I must be a wonderful thing!" thought the little ring, "I am coveted by all!" But one day, there was an awful battle, and the ring was cut off the hand of the wicked lord! The little ring felt himself picked up by a mighty king. He was glad, for the mighty king had a great army and glorious banners. The little ring thought he would be very happy with the mighty king, and that he would live in a grand palace and be the most prized possession of the kingdom. Alas, it was not to be, for the mighty king was killed and the ring sank to the bottom of a river. He was very sad, for it was lonely and cold there. "I wish I could see the banners of a splendid army again," he thought. After a very long time, the ring was found by a strange little man who took him for his own. At first the ring was glad to be out of the river, but he did not like the little man, who talked to himself and had no army, nor even a house to live in. The little ring had to live in a damp old cave that smelled of fish. Then the ring was rescued by another little man, who was much nicer than the first, but who had no palace or army, either. Finally he came into the hands of yet another little man, who brought him before a council of great lords. "At last I shall have the recognition I deserve," thought the proud little ring. "I have lived much too long in a river and a cave! That is no life for such an important ring as I!" And so the little ring went on a rather strange and long journey, carried by the last little man. The ring understood that he was being taken back to the lands of his first master, the wicked lord, so he did not mind that there was no great army and splendid banners to accompany him. "Soon I shall enjoy life again!" the ring thought. O, but the ring little suspected what was in store for him! He saw that he was fought over, and felt proud, but then he was falling, falling into a great fire! He heard a great clamor of armies and thought of the splendor of battle. "O, 'tis past! 'Tis over, all over! Never again," said the poor little ring. In the spring, the earth bloomed again. All over the land, the grass grew over the battlefields where once the little ring had been so proud. However, those days were over and the ring was gone, and so every tale must end at last. |
|
#84
10-16-2002, 06:38 PM
|
|||
|
|||
|
The King James Version
1 And the Five went unto Rivendell, which is called Imladris by the Elves.
2 And with Frodo were Meriadoc, and Peregrin, and Aragorn son of Arathorn, and the Gardener Whom Frodo Loved. 3 And they went unto the House of Elrond. And Elrond summoned a great council, and summoned elves from Mirkwood, which was Greenwood before the reign of Thranduil. And also men from Gondor, and from Dale, and Dwarves from Erebor unto the Lonely Mountain. 4 And Elrond spoke, saying, what shall we do with this Ring? 5 And Gandalf spoke, telling all of Gollum, and of Saruman, and the origin of the ring; and they slept. And they said, Gandalf, shut up. 6 And Gimli sayeth, shall we not leave the ring with the Elves? And Elrond grew wroth and rent his garment. 7 For Gandalf spoke, saying, verily verily I say unto you, the ring must be destroyed. 8 And Frodo at last spoke, saying, I shall take the ring, though I do not know the way. And they were glad. -- The Gospel According to Frodo |
|
#85
10-16-2002, 07:49 PM
|
|||
|
|||
|
Re: Re: The Khazad-dum Bridge Disaster
Quote:
The one who pressured your K-side relentlessly? Who finally overcame your determined resistance with a double threat of fork and pin? Dunno anything about that! Yes, I use the same username all over the Internet (of course there may be imitators!). I joined the UK Tolkien Society a long time ago (though my membership has lapsed). I remember laughing out loud at a Society preview of the Bakshi cartoon film, when the Elf rides up to Frodo just before Rivendell and introduces himself as ... Legolas (though it does make cinematic sense to drop Glorfindel). |
|
#86
10-17-2002, 01:02 AM
|
|||
|
|||
|
I can't take credit for writing this one, something I've had in my email archives, lo these many years....
G ------------------------ Lothlorien Rhapsody Written by Freddie Mercury (As told by Dionysus, performed by Frodo and the Sweathogs) (Frodo) Is this the real life? Is this High Fantasy? Caught in a land war. No escaping my destiny. (Sam) Open your eyes, look up to the sky and see... (Frodo) I’m just a Hobbit, I need no sympathy. These Rings are easy come, easy go, Little high, little low. Anywhere these Rings go doesn’t really matter to me, to me... (Eowyn) Mama, just killed a wraith, Put my sword up to his head, Ran him through and now he’s dead. (Gollum) Mama, life had just begun, But now I’ve gone and thrown it all away. (Frodo) Mama, oooh, Didn’t mean to make you cry, If I’m not back again this time tomorrow, Carry on, carry on, as if these Rings don’t really matter... (Sauron) Too late, my time has come, Sends shivers down my spine, body’s aching all the time. (Bilbo) Goodbye, ev’rybody, I’ve got to go... Gotta leave you all behind and face the West.... (Gollum) Mama, ooooh, [(Frodo) Anywhere the Rings go...] I don’t want to die. I sometimes wish I’d never found this Ring at all.... (Cool guitar riff.) (Hobbits) I see a little silhouetto of a man, Saruman! Saruman! What will you do with Frodo? (The Nine Wraiths) Thunderbolts and lightning, very, very fright’ning- me! (Merry) Gandalf-eo! (Legolas) The Grey Pilgram! (Merry) Gandalf-eo! (Legolas) The Grey Pilgram! (Merry and Legolas) Gandalf-eo, Mithrandir... (Gollum) Smeagol.... (Frodo) I’m just a Hobbit and nobody loves me. (Fellowship) He’s just a Baggins, from a Shire family. Spare him his life of this Ring bear-r-ring. (Gollum) Easy come, easy go. Will you let me go? (Fellowship) The Stinker! (Sam) No, I will not let you go! (The Nine) Let him go! (Fellowship) The Stinker! (Sam) I will not let you go! (The Nine) Let him go! (Fellowship) The Stinker! (Sam) I will not let you go! (Gollum) Let me go! (Sam and Frodo) Will not let you go! (Gollum) Let me go! (Sam and Frodo) Will not let you go! (Gollum) Let me goooo!... (Fellowship) No, no, no, no, no, no, no! (Bilbo) Mama mia, mama mia! (Gollum) Mama mia let me go! (Frodo) The Loooord of Mordor has a Ring-Wraith set aside for me... For Me...... For MEEEEEEE!!! (REALLY cool guitar riff.) (Sauron) So you think you can fool me and spit in my Eye? (Gollum) So you think you can use me and leave to die? (Sauron and Gollum) Oh, Frodo! Can’t do this to me, Frodo! (Frodo and Sam) Just gotta get out! Just gotta get right outta here... (Even more cool guitar...) (All) Oohh Yeah! Oooh Yeah! (Galadriel) These Rings don’t really matter, anyone can see... (Elrond) These Rings don’t really matter... (Gandalf) These Rings don’t really matter... (Galadriel, Elrond, Gandalf, Bilbo) To me..... (Frodo) Anywhere these Rings go... |
|
#87
10-17-2002, 01:23 AM
|
|||
|
|||
|
Any Poppy Z. Brite fans here?
"On their last night before entering Mordor, Frodo hummed a tune he heard from a techno-goth band in Bree, and gazed at the sleeping Samwise. Sam's nose ring glistened in the moonlight and his tatoos shimmered like a woman's ass. Frodo reached down and took a drop of spit from Sam's mouth and tasted it. It was sweet, faintly tasting of pipeweed. What am I doing, he thought, tasting hobbit spit when we are about to enter Mordor. Tomorrow, they might be captured by Orcs and slowly tortured, their blood drained, their skin flayed and roasted and fed back to them. But tonight they had only each other, and Sam looked so very beautiful and perfect in the night. He crept up from the stuffed Elf head he was using as a pillow, and slowly reached his hand into Sam's breeches... |
|
#88
10-17-2002, 01:59 AM
|
|||
|
|||
|
I'd love to do a Stephen King version of the end of Return of the King, but taking the potential profanity out would shorten to to about four sentences.
|
|
#89
10-17-2002, 02:08 AM
|
|||
|
|||
|
This story is about Middle Earth. The time was the Third Age, a different kind of age, a watershed age where one era was ending in Middle Earth and another beginning. It was the year The Shire decided to directly interviene in the epic affairs of obscure and distant Mordor. It was the year we went to war. In the broad, traditional sense, that "we" who went to was was all of us, all of Middle Earth, thogh in truth at that time the larger majority had little knowledge of, less interest in, and no great concern with what was beginning so far away.
So this story is about the smaller, more tightly focused "we" of that sentence: the first of the Fellowship, who boarded First Era-era ships, quested to that little known place, and fought the last major battle of a conflict that would not drag on. We Were Hobbits, Once...and Short and Fat Lt. Gen. Frodo Baggins (Ret.) and Samwise L. Gamgee |
|
#90
10-17-2002, 02:14 AM
|
|||
|
|||
|
This story is about Middle Earth. The time was the Third Age, a different kind of age, a watershed age where one era was ending in Middle Earth and another beginning. It was the year The Shire decided to directly interviene in the epic affairs of obscure and distant Mordor. It was the year we went to war. In the broad, traditional sense, that "we" who went to was was all of us, all of Middle Earth, though in truth at that time the larger majority had little knowledge of, less interest in, and no great concern with what was beginning so far away.
So this story is about the smaller, more tightly focused "we" of that sentence: the first of the Fellowship, who boarded First Era-era ships, quested to that little known place, and fought the last major battle of a conflict that would not drag on. We Were Hobbits, Once...and Short and Fat Lt. Gen. Frodo Baggins (Ret.) and Samwise L. Gamgee |
|
#91
10-17-2002, 04:05 AM
|
|||
|
|||
|
Re: The unofficial Australian version...
BWAHAHA!!!
The Hans Christian Anderson one was brilliant too, waiting for someone to do a Brothers Grimm. My contribution: Ringbearers still at large Mordor (CNN) - Reports from the field have just arrived that the notorious group of ringbearers known mysteriously only as "the nine" were spotted by a band of orcs entering the terroist safe haven known as "Lothlorien" several days ago. The Mordor State Department issued an official proclamation today that the group were known to be armed and dangereous and had already caused the death of many orcs in the region as well as the notorious brutal murder of a high ranking Balrog previously resif\ding in Moria. They warn that any concerned citizens were to contact the Mordor Foriegn affairs office immediately with information as to the whereabouts of these fugitives and to not try and confront them themselves. "We will act in our utmost to bring these terroists to justice" President Sauron declared today. "These terroists are attacking our way of life, our culture and the way we live. The world must know that the collected will of the dark lords minions will be strong and resolute." First detected in the town of Bree in the north of middle Earth, these terroists wasted no time in coldly taking the lives of all nine Ringwraith Agents when it was discovered that they were on a plot to topple Mordor. It is believed that the group is composed of primarily hobbits backed up by support from a wide variety of races including dwaves, elves humans and a mysterious backer only known as "Mithrander". "I must stress, Hobbits are a primarily peace loving race" President Sauron warned today after a spate of hate attacks against hobbit dwellings. "These hobbits are extremists, fundamentalists, they do not speak for hobbit kind". Agents also believe that these terroists have strong links to the group that assasinated the Foriegn Diplomat, Smaug, earlier this age. If so, it would explain the impressive array of mythical weapons that the group has acquired. So far, the terroist group has been utilizing safe houses in elvish country to evade capture and have slipped passed even the most stringent defences the Dark Lord has set in place. Residents are afraid for their children and people have stopped going out at night. "How am I going to let my kids go out and torture humans if I know that theres a group of orc killers roaming the countryside" a concerend mother said today". Experts believe that, if these rogues are not brought to justice, a rash of copy cat attacks will follow and severely hurt the economy. -- written by CNN correspondant, Saurman Quote:
|
|
#92
10-17-2002, 08:21 AM
|
|||
|
|||
|
Re: Re: Re: The Khazad-dum Bridge Disaster
Quote:
Hehe, small world huh? I loved your Austrailian version! Fantastic! |
|
#93
10-17-2002, 09:58 AM
|
|||
|
|||
|
The Lord of the Rings, by Ogden Nash
There’s the ring that comes in a Cracker Jack box, which only costs you half a dollar,
And there’s the ring you find in laundry that lingers around the collar. There are rings that come with diamonds that are used plight one’s troth, And there’s a ring round planet Saturn – or is it Jupiter? – or possibly both. But whatever ring you have, there’s one type of ring that admits no tomfoolery And that’s magic jewellery. For as soon as you put it on, you’re sure to disappear abruptly And whatever you were doing before, you’ll soon be doing it corruptly And it doesn’t matter whether you’re a dwarf or a human king, Sooner or later, you succumb to the ring. As it happens, a particularly nasty specimen of finger jewellery fell into the possession of a plucky young hobbit named Frodo, And before long he was being chased across the countryside by Nazgul, who were trying to kill him dead as a dodo For which the only cure was to fling the cursed thing into the lava pits of Orodruin But that wasn’t the only trouble bruin Because Saruman and Sauron were waging a war with goblins and Uruk-Hai and orcs Against which the hobbits didn’t have much chance, being less familiar with swords than they were with spoons and forks. So Frodo and his companion Sam Left the rest of their Fellowship and went on the lam Encountering along the way a creature known as Gollum Who pretended to help them on their way while actually trying to stallum. On and on they went, fighting orcs and spiders and fatigue While the forces of evil busied themselves with mayhem and intrigue. At the end, Frodo decided not to destroy the ring, but as he lingered He suddenly found himself nine-fingered While Gollum fell into the magma with a final ‘poof’ Proving that even the best magic rings won’t make you lava-proof. Frodo and Sam, having thus disposed of both the ring and Smeagol Decided that they deserved a nice vacation, and flew off to the Bahamas by eagol. And Aragorn and Arwen got married and ruled as King and Queen And Gandalf and the elves sailed into the West and were nevermore seen, Which, considering the rather bleak way this tale’s been wending, Is about as much as one could ask from a happy ending. That being said, it seems to me that to accept a ring from the likes of Sauron You’d have to be a mauron. |
|
#95
10-20-2002, 03:40 AM
|
|||
|
|||
|
At the Sign of the Prancing Sheep
“Draw me a nazgul.” “What?” “Draw me a nazgul.” I jumped on my feet as though I’d been slapped by an invisible Baggins, and rubbed my eyes. The most extraordinary hobbit watched me gravely. I’ve drawn a picture of him, but it isn’t anywhere near as charming as the original. It isn’t my fault. I was discouraged from my career as an artist at age six by the big Numeoreans. I’ve never been able to draw anything except cross sections of orcs. And for that, I’ve used swords. “What are you standing there for?” He watched me gravely, and said, as if it were a matter of great concern, “If you please, draw me a nazgul.” I said I was a ranger who studied geography, and history, and rings, but that I didn’t know how to draw. He answered, “I must know. Draw me a nazgul.” I drew as best I knew how, producing something like an orc that had swallowed a dwarf. “No! No!” he said. “Not a vivisected orc! I need to know what a nazgul looks like!” I drew a picture of a horse. “What kind of nazgul is that?” “It’s riding its horse. It’s been decowled.” He tilted his head, and toyed with a golden ring. “Oh, yes! I think I see!” That’s how I made the acquaintance of the prince of hobbits. J.R.R. de Saint Exupery |
|
#96
10-20-2002, 06:36 AM
|
|||
|
|||
|
Quote:
|
|
#97
10-21-2002, 07:56 AM
|
|||
|
|||
|
Field Guide to the Large Winged Creatures of Middle Earth by Roger Tory Peterson:
Eagle Thoron Wingspread up to 180 ft. Largest bird in Middle Earth. Sometimes known to carry Wizards, dwarfs and Hobbits, either in talons or on back. Voice Speak Westron, Quenya. Range Mountainous areas of Middle Earth, esp. Misty Mountains, Vale of Anduin, Wilderland. Sometimes hunts far from mountains. Similar Species Only flying creature of similar size is Winged Nazgul (see). Winged Nazgul Ulari Hideous flying cretures. Can be told from Eagle at a distance by longer neck (suitable for hacking off head), lack of feathers. Closer up, foul odor and prescence of undead Ringwraith on back is diagnostic. Voice A harsh croak Range Mordor and surrounding mountains and areas, to Field of Pelennor (1 report). Very rare, if indeed it still exists. |
|
#98
10-21-2002, 08:01 AM
|
|||
|
|||
|
A Walk in the Woods: Rediscovering Middle Earth on the Eastward Trail (by Bill Bryson):
I waited for Sam for three-quaters of an hour, then went looking for him. Finally, I rounded a bend and there he was stumbling toward me, wild haired and nearer hysteria than I have ever seen a grown hobbitt. It was hard to get the full story out of him in a coherent flow, but I gathered he had thrown many items from his pack over a cliff in a temper. "What did you get rid of?" I asked, trying not to betray too much alarm. |
|
#99
10-21-2002, 08:05 AM
|
|||
|
|||
|
A Walk in the Woods: Rediscovering Middle Earth on the Eastward Trail (by Bill Bryson):
I waited for Sam for three-quaters of an hour, then went looking for him. Finally, I rounded a bend and there he was stumbling toward me, wild haired and nearer hysteria than I have ever seen a grown hobbitt. It was hard to get the full story out of him in a coherent flow, but I gathered he had thrown many items from his pack over a cliff in a temper. "What did you get rid of?" I asked, trying not to betray too much alarm. "Heavy f*cking sh*t, that's what! The rope, the pots and pans, the little box from Galadriel, I don't know what all. F*ck!" "The food from Farmir?" "Flung" "The water bottle?" "Flung" "The lembas?" "Flung far!" This was begining to sound a trifle grave... |
|
#100
10-21-2002, 11:10 AM
|
|||
|
|||
|
LOTR by Dave Barry:
"Once upon a time, there was a hobbit named (I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP!) Frodo Baggins. He lived in Middle-Earth, where people spent a lot of time drinking ale and smoking some kind of strange weed in a pipe, which is undoubtedly why his parents gave him a name like "Frodo." ("Hey, babe, pass the bong, and turn up the Iron Butterfly... oh, and let's name the kid Frodo." "PFFFFFFFFT! Sure, sweetie... and do we have any more Doritos?"). Now, life got complicated for Frodo because of his uncle Bilbo. Bilbo Baggins. Bilbo. Sorry, I just like saying "Bilbo." Bilbo. Anyway, be that as it may, Bilbo. Sorry, that won't happen again. Anyway, years before, Bilbo had traded his cow for a bunch of magic beans, climbed up a beanstalk, killed a giant, and stolen his magic ring. Ha ha! No, I'm just kidding of course- that was Rapunzel. But Bilbo got a magic ring from this guy named Gollum. Gollum was slimy, foul-smelling and lived in a cave. He was sort of like Newt Gingrich, only a little more charming. Gollum ate nothing but raw fish... which reminds me of a letter I got from Mrs. Elsie Hammerdingle of Grand Rapids, Michigan, who sent me this clip from the Daily Bugle. It says that hundreds of people in Maryland have snakehead fish coming up their toilets and biting them on the buns. Now, clearly, this is a job for the Pentagon. As long as they're spending $5 trillion per toilet seat, they could at least invent one with heat sensors and laser guided snakehead fish killers. That way, if Gollum tried to swim up Frodo's toilet and bite his furry tushie, he'd be toast. Bilbo. (Sorry, I couldn't help it!) |
| Advertisement |
 |
| Thread Tools | |
| Display Modes | |
|
|
Linear Mode
