If LotR Had Been Written By Someone Else!?

Cafe Society
,
242

(and yet another Monty Python tribute…)

As sung by a bunch of men, all called “Baggins”.

The Fellowshipper’s Song

Ohhhhhhhhhh - Sauron made a ring and played
At being most unstable
Pippin, Merry, (Buckleberry ferry!)
Could drink you under th’ table
Frodo and Sam had to scram
To Mordor, fast as able
And Gollum spied with his eyes so wide
They caught all things but Cable.

There was nothing anywhere that was missed by Mithrandir…
Except for a Balrog and a whiplash far too near…

Aragorn had not yet sworn
to be the king of Gondor
Boromir I heard (I swear)
Blowing his horn yonder
Legolas and his elvish ***
Could run so very nimbly
But none could halm or ruffle his calm
Half as much as Gimli

But Mithrandir himself is particularly missed
The Balrog’s kinda friendly, but a bugger when he’s pissed!

243

Ok. I thought my “Simpsons do LoTR” thread was cool, I admit, but this one here…words fail me. I am just going to call it right here and now, this is the coolest thread ever. I challenge anyone to find me a cooler one.

I also challenge anyone to do version of LoTR as done by:

Robert Heinlein

Joss Whedon (Buffy, Angel)

Mike Judge (King of the Hill, Beavis and Butt-head)

Weird Al Yankovic

Sam Waterston (Calvin and Hobbes)

Douglas Adams (or did someone do that already?)

Or in the style of:

Animaniacs/Pinky and the Brain

Family Guy

South Park (yes I know they already did it, but we can do better, dammit!)

The Onion

The Far Side…actually, no, that’s just too difficult. No one could pull that off…

244

The Onion:

Area man loses magical ring of power, thinks it may be behind the couch.

Local area man Sauron (last name withheld for privacy reasons) has been looking everywhere in his spacious 3 bedroom volcano for a ring he forged over 6000 years ago. He claims that the ring, although of little intrinsic value, has great sentimental value to him since he poured most of power into it.

“I mean, I guess it could be used to turn people invisible and bend knigs to your will and stuff like that, but basically, its just a nice gold ring which I happen to like wearing”

Having last seen the ring when he went outside to check on some damn punk kids who were making a whole lot of noise outside of his estate in Mordor, he’s not quite sure what happened to the ring after that.

“I was just going outside to shut those damn elves up, yaknow. There always barging in here every thousand years or so demanding I stop razing their lands and enslaving their people, gets to be kinda a nuisance yaknow.”

Sauron reports that he is not quite sure what happens next but, all of a sudden, he becomes a discorporated spirit, capable of doing no more evil than a overly dry turkey club sandwich.

“Anyway, I dunno what happened but I guess I just dropped the ring somewhere. Gee, I hope nobody picked it up cos, that would be theft plain and simple and even elves are above that. Although, come ta think of it, those damn whippersnapper 'umans mighta done it. There not above anything, them spoiled brats.”

Hoping that nobody picked up the ring over the ensuing 3000 year interval, Sauron is sure that the ring is just wedged behind the refrigerator or maybe even under the bed. He has high hopes on finding the ring and looks forward to wearing it again.

“Yaknow, about the only place I haven’t checked yet is the forging room, I was going to do it two days ago but there was some ruckus with a spider in the west quadrant. At this rate, I probably wont get a chance to have a good look in there until next week.”

245

FEAR & LOATHING IN MOUNT DOOM

                       by

          Terry Gilliam & Toy Grisoni

BLACK SCREEN

The wind of the plains moans sadly. From somewhere within the wind comes the tinkly, syrupy-sweet sounds of the Hobbits singing “My Favorite Things.” A series of sepia images of
anti-Sauron protests from 3,000 years ago appear one after
another on the screen.

In the violently scrawled style of Ralph Steadman, the title
FEAR AND LOATHING IN GONDOR splashes onto the screen. A
beat, and then it runs down and off revealing:

TITLE: “He who makes a beast of himself
Gets rid of the pain
Of being a man.”
Dr. Johnson

The voice of GANDALF ‘THE GRAY’ – a.k.a. ‘THE WHITE’:

                     GANDALF (V/O)
        We were somewhere around the Shire at
        the edge of the farmlands when the
        drugs began to take hold.

AAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!

An old four-wheeled wooden wagon – THE CRATE – wipes the black screen.

EXT. ON THE ROAD TO MT. DOOM - DAY

AAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!

THE CRATE plods down the beaten dirt path at about 13 miles an hour. THE STONES’ “Sympathy For the Devil” blares.

AT THE WHEEL

STRANGELY STILL AND TENSE, GANDALF ‘THE WHITE’ DRIVES – SKELETAL, ALE IN HAND – STARES STRAIGHT AHEAD.

BESIDE HIM, FACE TURNED TO THE SUN, EYES CLOSED BENEATH THE HOOD OF HIS ELVEN CLOAK, IS HIS SWARTHY AND UNNERVINGLY UNPREDICTABLE HOBBIT FRIEND, DR. BILBO.

The music pounds GANDALF stares straight ahead. BILBO froths
up a can of beer - uses it as shaving foam.

                     GANDALF (V/O)
        I remember saying something like:
        "I feel a bit lightheaded.  Maybe
        you should drive..."

BILBO starts shaving.
GANDALF (V/O)
Suddenly there was a terrible roar
all around us and the sky was full
of what looked like huge bats, all
swooping and screeching and diving
around the car…

Close on GANDALF – shadows flutter across his face. The
reflections of dragons swirl within his eyes. We push in close
to one eye ball – SCREECHING SWIRLING BAT-LIKE DRAGON SHAPES!

AAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!

                     GANDALF (V/O)
        ... and a voice was screaming: Holy
        Jesus!  What are these goddamn
        animals?

CUT TO WIDE SHOT OF CRATE -

GANDALF, eyes rigid, flails at the air. No bats anywhere.
BILBO casually looks over…

                     BILBO
        What are you yelling about?

GANDALF pulls to the side of the road. The sudden wrench
makes BILBO nick his face with his razor.

                     GANDALF
        Never mind.  It's your turn to drive.

                     GANDALF (V/O)
        No point mentioning these bats.  I
        thought.  The poor bastard will see
        them soon enough.

GANDALF hops out of the car, keeping an eye out for dragons,
frantically opens the trunk to reveal what looks like AN
APOTHECARY KIT. GANDALF desperately rifles through the impressive stash.

                     GANDALF (V/O)
        We had two bags of grass, seventy-
        five eyes of next, five
        sheets of high powered faerie
        acid, a salt shaker half full of
        snuff, a whole galaxy of fireworks: multi-
        colored uppers, downers, screamers,
        laughers... Also a quart of dwarven spirits,
        a quart of rum, a case of ale, a
        pint of raw ether and two dozen
        shrooms.

GANDALF, eyes darting madly as he hears what sounds like the
SHRIEKS OF BATS returning, grabs an assortment along with
another pipe full of weed - slams the apothecary kit shut and dives back into the wagon.

                     GANDALF (V/O)
        Not that we needed all that for the
        trip, but once you get locked into
        a serious drug collection, the
        tendency is to push it as far as
        you can.

THE CRATE SLOWLY PLODS INTO THE DISTANCE… on the ground,
weakly flapping is a SEMI-SQUASHED, SLOWLY DYING ANIMAL… A
BAT?

EXT. FURTHER DOWN THE ROAD TO MT. DOOM - DAY

IN THE CRATE

BILBO grips the reins - stares maniacally down the road - a
lousy driver.

                     GANDALF (V/O)
        The only thing that really worried
        me was the ether.  There is nothing
        in the world more helpless and
        irresponsible and depraved than a
        mage in the depths of an ether binge.
        And I knew we'd get into that
        rotten stuff pretty soon.

BILBO sings - washes a couple of pills back with a new ale.
The CRATE fishtails.

                     BILBO
        "One toke over the line, sweet
        Jesus."

                     GANDALF
               (muttering to himself)
        One toke.  You poor fool.  Wait
        till you see those goddamn bats.

UP AHEAD - AT THE SIDE OF THE DESERTED ROAD

A LONE HITCHHIKER spots them, jumps up and sticks out a
thumb. The CRATE rocks past. Then, fifty yards down
the road…

                     BILBO
        Let's give that boy a lift.

BILBO yanks on the reins - THE CRATE swerves to the side
of the road.

                     GANDALF
        We can't stop here - this is bat
        country!
246

“Bugs, Mr Frodo! A million of 'em!” shouted Gamgee as the giant spiders crested the hill…

I’ll see if I can write Frodo’s Freehold or its ilk (The Ring is a Harsh Mistress, Baggins of Mars, I Will Fear No Nazgul, A Hobbit in the Sky?) a little later. Wouldn’t it be great if Gandalf tuened out to be a sexy female computer who wants to be impregnated by Legolas?

247

Hehe…or The Number of the Balrog, Heighdei, or I Shall Fear No Nazgul?

248

Oops…that’s what I get for not rechecking the replied-to post before I hit submit. Didn’t mean to step on your Fear No Nazgul.

249

as_u_wish, I love you! Thank you! If there wasn’t an Anne McCaffrey one by the time I read through them all, I was going to have to write one, but you did it justice, thank you! Next step is an X-Files one, but if I write it, it will have to be based off the movies, since I haven’t read the books. :wink:

~Dedicated Anne Reader
AkA Jeri

250

Lord Sauron’s Ring by Oscar Wilde

Scene: Bag End

Frodo: I cannot read the fiery letters

Gandalf: A gentleman should never admit to ignorance, Frodo old boy, it always sounds so trite. The language is that of Mordor but the script is elvish, obviously its just as I expected, you’ve found Lord Sauron’s old trinket. Fiery letters are all the fashion these days, and Lord Sauron always tries SO hard to be fashionable. He fails, I mean, Elvish script? Honestly. Ah, its one of his poems. Sauron always was a dreadful poet, though I will forgive him that. The only thing I cannot forgive in a poet is competence.

Frodo: Why did it have to come to me?

Gandalf: One should never bemoan recieving gifts, though in th ecase of that gaudy trinket I won’t begrudge you your distaste.

Frodo: Take it Gandalf!

Gandalf: Oh thats hardly fair. Frodo old boy. I can resist anything except temptation. No, the only thing to do is to dispose of the thing. I always use Mt. Doom for such purposes. Obviously a quest awaits you. I myself shall be late, the one thing I love more than a bit of fashionable danger is a bit of fashionable lateness.

251

… and when Sir Bilbo, soon afterwards, just opening the door, said, “Fanny, at what time would you have the eagle come round?”, she felt a degree of astonishment which made it impossible for her to speak."

“My dear Sir Bilbo!” cried Mrs Sackville-Baggins, red with anger. “Fanny can walk.”

“Walk!” repeated Sir Bilbo, in a tone of most unanswerable dignity, and coming farther into the room, “My niece walk to the Cracks of Doom at this time of the year! Will twenty minutes after four suit you?”

 - Jane Austen, Hobbitsfield Park
252

As requested, By William Faulkner:

Then I was in twilight again, wearing the ring. It was Uncle Bilbo’s and when he gave it to me he said Frodo I give you the ultimatum of all hopeless desire. It is rather excrutiatingly apt that you will use it to gain the reducto absurdum of all hobbit experience which can fit your individual finger because it seems to kind of shrink and grow as needed. I give it to you not that you may appear to be married when you are not and so escape all those ceaseless nosey questions about your private life but that you might escape the Sackville-Bagginses now and then and not spend all your life dodging behind hedgerows because no relatives are ever lost he said they’re not even past and the twilight world only reveals to hobbits their own hunger and despair except not quite in focus like the light in August or any other long slow desultory month you could name full of dust and motes and rememberance that Ents smell like trees…

253

An excerpt from “Breakfast of Lords” by Frodo Vonnegut:

All this happened, more or less. The war parts, anyways, are pretty much true. One guy I knew really did turn out to be a king. Another guy I knew really did threaten to take the ring from me. “I want,” the guy said to me, “that ring.”

An awful lot of people were awfully keen on that ring. Here is what the ring everyone was so keen on looked like:

O

And it was created by a dark lord who had some big things planned for Middle Earth. But all that comes later. First of all, the guy who tried to take the ring never got it because a bunch of orcs came ripping through town and stuck him full of arrows like a big treacherous pincushion.

So it goes.

So I guess you could say a hell of a lot of blood was spilt over this ring in the end. Men were killing orcs and orcs were killing men and men were killing men and there were these two girls that wanted to fuck the same guy, and trees were flooding wizards out of their big phallic towers.

And so on.

After a lot of scrambling around someone bit that ring off my finger. So you can imagine the difficulty I have jerking off now.

254

Why I Forge Such Good Rings
an excerpt from Ecce Frodo

1

Shall I explain the meaning of the One Ring? -- In the case of elven rings they are too preserved with ascetism, the *decadance* and *ressentiment* one would associate with a herd morality. The elf, seeing himself as "too good" for this world, finds a pretext to escape it -- his *elbereth gilthoniel.*  In the case of dwarven rings, the greed for gold is intensified -- but what greed that is called, so scornfully, "love of Eru!" What dwarf knows of love? -- "Nothing bought more dearly than love," instinctively the dwarf turns his  *hatred* of the world into an ill-begotten obsession with its creator -- *and* his own pockets!
For it should be noted: the one ring is a *celebration * of life, a "velvet condom"(1) around the finger of the philosopher! *To become invisible to the world --* that is precisely how one *should* see the world. *Quidquid luce fuit, tenebris agit.* The One ring, so simple, so unadorned! -- free of the *decadance* seen in the rings of Wagner,(3) -- it is the simplicity, the *force* of the Mordorian spirit that leads it to triumph over the life-debasing instincts of Numenorean thought, which holds to itself during its decline and fall.
To be Numenorean, to think in a Numenorean way, requires a complexity of thought, but a belief that complexity is wrong; a belief in preservation, in valuation of "thing in itself," which poisons our Mordorian culture. *To tell the truth and be good with arrows*(3) -- this is the folly of Numenorean thinking, for what truth is contained in words? *Truth is in arrows.*

(1) A notoriously untranslatable pun, der velvetkondom means “one who protects himself, but in a manner that exposes himself to dangers.”
(2) cf. Nietzsche Contra Wagner.
(3) cf. Also Spracht Ar-Pharazon.

255

LORD OF THE RINGS by Ellis Amburn/Kitty Kelley/Any other trashy biographer

Frodo Baggins was every mother’s dream hobbit. A small quiet lad with large eyes and curly black hair, and a sweetness to his demeanor that made adults and children alike trust him. In the early years of his life, Frodo seemed like the perfect hobbit – he had looks, wealth, social standing and a wide range of eccentric feriends from Dwarves, Elves and Men.

Frodo was born to two middle-class hobbits in the idyllic Shire. Drogo Baggins was one of the respectable Baggins family, while his mother was the social butterfly Primula Brandybuck. Primula often left young Frodo alone while she went on wild romps with the Elves in the forests of the Shire. This lack of responsibility angered Drogo, prompting many angry fights between the two while young Frodo cried in his room.

How this marital struggle affected young Frodo is not entirely known, but it seems to have jaded him beyond his years when it came to women. In the years that followed he would pursue many loveless, lust-inspired liaisons with hobbits, human women, and Elf maidens. His abandonment by his flighty mother seems to have left him in constant pursuit of female affection. A further shock was the death of his parents in a boating accident, where Primula angrily pushed her husband over the side and he grabbed her as he went down.

“I kept asking him how he felt about his parents,” said Frodo’s cousin Peregrin Took, a close friend to the young heir. “But he’d be just saying, ‘Oh yeah, my parents, sure.’ He didn’t seem to care. Of course, he’d been adopted by Bilbo then, so maybe he didn’t care anymore. He didn’t talk about it, that’s for sure!”

Bilbo Baggins was a wealthy, eccentric relative of Frodo’s, who took pity on the orphaned boy. Without any children of his own and no intention to marry, Bilbo doted on his adolescent nephew and spoiled him relentlessly. “Frodo could be a real bastard, that’s all I have to say,” Bilbo’s gardener commented. “My Sam would follow him anywhere, but Frodo was a real manipulative little bastard. He’d look at you all sad and sorry with those eyes, and you’d do anything he wanted.”

Understandably, Frodo was dismayed when Bilbo vanished on his eleventy-first birthday. But upon finding that Bilbo had left all his possessions to his nephew, Frodo settled happily into his new role as the Shire’s most eligible bachelor. He often used his uncle’s golden Ring, which made its wearer invisible, to sneak up on young hobbit girls and kiss them before whisking them back to his bachelor lovenest, Bag End. “They thought it was great to be sleeping with a guy who could become invisible,” said Frodo’s cousin Meriadoc Brandybuck. “It added an edge of danger. I always asked if I could borrow it for my dates, but he got very possessive of it. Later on I found out why, and it wasn’t just his ego!”

However, when Gandalf the Grey appeared and informed Frodo that his Ring was the Ring of Power, Frodo was shocked. He followed Gandalf’s instructions to take the Ring to Bree, where he met the Ranger Aragorn and followed Aragorn to Rivendell. However, Frodo was attacked by the Nazgul along the way, and though the injury was not fatal, it threatened to turn Frodo into a wraith. “He looked awful,” Merry said. “He was turning green, throwing up and making these weird gagging noises. It made ME sick just looking at him.”

Frodo was rescued by the Elf princess Arwen, who rode all the way to Rivendell with Frodo on her horse Asfaloth, avoiding Black Riders. And though the One Ring did not tempt Arwen, certain other things did. “He was just SO little and sexy,” she was later heard to gush to her close friend Galadriel. “He turned me on SO much when we were escaping from the Black Riders. After my dad healed him, I remember I looked at him in that giant bed, and I thought, oh boy, I could dump Aragorn for HIM!” Arwen had recently become engaged to the Ranger, but Frodo had the inexplicable draw of the Ringbearer.

“I’m not saying they had an affair,” Elven Prince Legolas said in an exclusive interview. “I mean, I once went out with Arwen – she was kinda chilly, if you know what I mean. But right after I got to Rivendell I saw Frodo coming out of her bower, with his hair standing on end and… well, let me put it this way: He was wearing the Ring, and not much else. And he showed up at dinner that night with a T-shirt that said ‘Elves Do It Eternally.’”

…

That’s all I feel like writing for now…

256

The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the Third Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose in the Bay of Belfalas. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was a beginning.
North the wind blew across the land of Gondor, where men farmed their fields, and thought of better times and of the glory of the old days. They knew little of the lands beyond their borders, but trusted in their traditions, as they always had.
Onward the wind blew across the White Mountains into the lands of the Rohirrim, proud horse people of the plains whose allies in these dark times were wearing thin. Grim faced and stiff backed they rode on despite the threat of war and a weakling king upon their throne, the leader of this particular band being outcast and abandoned. But still he had followers, his numbers increasing daily.
Westward the wind drove, towards the gap of Isen, where evil men dwelled, rough barbarians called Dunlendings who had no love for their neighbours. Neither pillaging nor burning quenched their thirst for blood.
Westward, now whirling north, west and north over the vast plains of Eriador into the tangled forest called the Old Forest and the Shire.
Whirling towards the village Hobbiton, it tugged at the clothes of a small creature. No taller than a child, Frodo Baggins sat reading an old book as the wind closed it. By now it had become a pleasant wind, tickling his toes and playing in his hair. The young hobbit laughed aloud and wished the day would never end. As he put the book down, he heard something off in the distance, not unlike the song his uncle used to sing when he thought Frodo was not nearbly, but with an unearthly feel to it…

257

The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the Third Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose in the Bay of Belfalas. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was a beginning.
North the wind blew across the land of Gondor, where men farmed their fields, and thought of better times and of the glory of the old days. They knew little of the lands beyond their borders, but trusted in their traditions, as they always had.
Onward the wind blew across the White Mountains into the lands of the Rohirrim, proud horse people of the plains whose allies in these dark times were wearing thin. Grim faced and stiff backed they rode on despite the threat of war and a weakling king upon their throne, the leader of this particular band being outcast and abandoned. But still he had followers, his numbers increasing daily.
Westward the wind drove, towards the gap of Isen, where evil men dwelled, rough barbarians called Dunlendings who had no love for their neighbours. Neither pillaging nor burning quenched their thirst for blood.
Westward, now whirling north, west and north over the vast plains of Eriador into the tangled forest called the Old Forest and the Shire.
Whirling towards the village Hobbiton, it tugged at the clothes of a small creature. No taller than a child, Frodo Baggins sat reading an old book as the wind closed it. By now it had become a pleasant wind, tickling his toes and playing in his hair. The young hobbit laughed aloud and wished the day would never end. As he put the book down, he heard something off in the distance, not unlike the song his uncle used to sing when he thought Frodo was not nearbly, but with an unearthly feel to it…

The Lord of the rings, Book one of the Wheel of Time by Robert Jordan

258

Lord of the Rings - Gandalf v. Balrog code

import gandalf;
import balrog;
import bridge_of_khazad-dum;

public class GandalfvsBalrog extends Moria
{

   Wizard Gandalf;               //declare variables
   Balrog misterSparkles;

   main()
   {
       Gandalf.print("You Shall NOT PASS!!!); 
       misterSparkles.print("RARARARRRRARR!!!!);

       Gandalf.HitGroundWithStaff_MakeBridgeFall;
       
       if(misterSparkles.isFallingWayDown)
       {
              misterSparkles.whipGandalf_bringHisAssDownToo;
       }

       while(Gandalf.isFallingWayDown)
       {
              Gandalf.GrabSword_KickAssandYellAlot;
       }

        return One_Smoted_Balrog;
   }

}

259

Two short excerpts from the Lord of the Rings, by Edmund Blackadder

“Come my friend” said Boromir softly “lend me the ring that I might vanquish our enemies”.Frodo slowly raised an eyebrow and gazed disdainfully at the tall Gondorian. “Boromir” he quipped “the chances of you getting your hands on this ring are about as high as the ankle socks on a very small beetle that’s crouching in a ditch… in a quarry… in the Low countries”

‘What a fix!’ said Sam. ‘That’s the one place in all the lands that we’ve heard of that we don’t want to see any closer, and that’s the one place we’re trying to get to! And that’s just where we can’t get nohow. We’ve come the wrong way altogether, seemingly. We can’t get down; and if we did get down we’d find all that green land a nasty bog, I’ll warrant. Phew! can you smell it?’ He sniffed at the wind.
“Of course I can smell it, Sam.’ replied Frodo drily 'Though how you, the six-time winner of the All-County “Armpits like a hill troll’s privy” Championship can smell anything is beyond me…in fact, being up to my codpiece in festering marshland sounds like a picnic compared to five minute downwind of you”

260

Warg Hunter with Samwise Gamgee

SAM: Blimey, would you look at that, Mister Frodo! It’s a rare Easterling Oliphant! It’s not often you see one of these, even in captivity. You see how the Easterlings have built a large tower on her back, harnessing its great strength and massive size for their own bennefit. Unfortunately there are few Oliphants left in the world, with most born being forced into wartime service and the lose of their lands due to deforrestation. Crickey, one’s coming right by us!

Large Oliphant foot crashes beside Sam and Frodo. Sam jumps and hugs onto the beast’s shin. He is then carried off with the Oliphant in another charge.

SAM: Isn’t this great! The Oliphant is so powerful it doesn’t even recognize me as a threat. So long as I don’t do anything aggressive, she won’t attack.

Arrows begin flying at the Easterlings.

SAM: It seems as though we’re under attack. This helps to illustrate the wonderfully effective thickness of the Oliphant’s skin. The arrows are just bouncing right off! If this were a natural predator she would just be able to bat them aside with her massive trunk. She’s getting a bit grumpy now. Its alright, girl, its alright. Look at the way she’s just trampling all of the panicking Easterlings! What a marvelous adaption! Just another illustration of what happens when man crosses nature.

At this point the oliphant uses its great trunk to grab sam and fling him 20 meters. Sam bounces a few times and then brushes himself off.

SAM: What a blast! Easterling Oliphant! Woo! After the break, Mister Frodo and I will show you the dangerous Gollum, and next week we’ll journey deep into the heart of the Fangorn Forrest to track down one of my favorites, the endangered Entus giganticus, or “Tree Shepherd”!

261

though I only have the opening line:
It started that night and it started with a wizard. It always starts with a wizard…