If LotR Had Been Written By Someone Else!?

Cafe Society
,
262

The Wizard, the Ring and the Dark Lord
by C.R.R. Lewis
Chapter I
Pippin Looks into a Palantern

Once there were four hobbits whose names were Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin. This story is about something that happened to them when they were sent away from Hobbiton during the war because of a Ring. They were sent to the house of an old Langnome who lived in the heart of the country, twenty miles from the nearest ford. He had no wife and he lived in a very large house with a housekeeper called Mr. Glorfindel and three servants. (Their names were Erestor, Elladan and Elrohir, but they do not come into the story much.) He himself was an Elf-lord with shadowy dark hair and an ageless face, and they liked him almost at once; but on the first evening when he came over to meet them at the front door he was so venerable that Pippin (who was the youngest) was a little afraid of him and Merry (who was the next youngest) wanted to cry and had to keep on pretending he was blowing his nose to hide it.

As soon as they had said good night to the Langnome and gone upstairs on the first night, Frodo and Sam came into the younger ones’ room and they all talked it over.

“We’ve fallen on our feet and no mistake,” said Frodo. “This is going to be perfectly splendid. That old chap will let us do anything we like.”

“I think he’s an old dear,” said Sam.

“Oh, come off it!” said Merry, who was tired and pretending not to be tired, which always made him bad-tempered. “Don’t go on talking like that.”

“Like what?” said Sam; “and anyway, it’s time you were in bed.”

“Trying to talk like Bilbo,” said Merry. “And who are you to say when I’m to go to bed? Go to bed yourself.”

“Hadn’t we all better go to bed?” said Pippin. “There’s sure to be a row if we’re heard talking here.”

“No, there won’t,” said Frodo. “I tell you this is the sort of house where no one’s going to mind what we do. Anyway, they won’t hear us. It’s about ten minutes’ walk from here down to that dining room, and any amount of stairs and passages in between.”

“What’s that noise?” said Pippin suddenly. It was a far larger house than she had ever been in before and the thought of all those long passages and rows of doors leading into empty rooms was beginning to make her feel a little creepy.

“It’s only a bird, silly,” said Merry.

“It’s an owl,” said Frodo. “This is going to be a wonderful place for birds. I shall go to bed now. I say, let’s go and explore tomorrow. You might find anything in a place like this. Did you see those mountains as we came along? And the woods? There might be eagles. There might be stags. There’ll be hawks.”

“Badgers!” said Pippin.

“Foxes!” said Merry.

“Conies!” said Sam.

But when next morning came there was a steady rain falling, so thick that when you looked out of the window you could see neither the mountains nor the woods nor even the stream in the garden…

263

I, Frodo Baggins, formerly of the Shire, am one who is known to Sauron of Mordor.

It came about late in the month of En’Kara in the year of 10,117 of the Third Age that I awoke to the soothing touch of a small sponge that bathed my forehead.

I grabbed the hand that held the sponge and found that I held a girl’s wrist. “Who are you?” I asked.

I lay on a stone platform padded by heavy sleeping pelts and numerous scarves of yellow and red silk.

“Please.” Said the girl.

She was comely with light hair straight and bound simply behind her back with a small ribbon of yellow silk. Her eyes blue and sullen. Her full, red lips, seemed to pout sensuously, rebelliously, and perhaps subtly contemptuously.

“I am Arwen,” she responded “your slave.”

I released her wrist.

She knelt resting on her heels with her back straight. In her eyes there seemed to burn an irritable fury of helpless rage. I smiled but she did not smile back, looking away angrily.

When she again raised her head I saw about her throat, as I expected, graceful and gleaming, the silver collar of a Mordor slave girl.

“Your demeanor does not suggest that of a slave girl.” I said.

“I am a chamber slave.” She whispered. “As long as you are in this room, you may do with me as you please. Master.”

Her shoulders shook with rage at my widened smile.

“I see I must teach you the meaning of your colar.” I said, rising and stepping torwards her. She scrambled to the corner of the room with a cry.

My laugh was loud.

RINGBEARER OF MORDOR by John Norman

264

Not perfect, but here’s another one:

He’s Guiding a Hobbit to Mordor - by Led Zeppelin

There’s a ranger who knows
All that glitters’s not gold
And he’s guiding a hobbit
To Mordor

When he gets there he knows
If the Black Gate is closed
With a sword he do what he came for.
Ooh, ooh, and he’s guiding a hobbit
To Mordor.

There’s a sign on Khazad-dum
But he wants to be sure
'Cause you know sometimes runes have two meanings.
In a tree by the falls, there’s an elf lass who sings;
Sometimes all of her hopes are misgiven.
Ooh, it makes him wander.
Ooh, it makes him wander.

There’s a feeling she gets
When she looks to the west
And her spirit is crying for leaving.
In her thoughts she has seen
Rings of smoke through the trees
And the ranger is fighting the goblins.
Ooh, it makes him wander.
Ooh, it really makes him wander.

And it’s whispered that soon
The Rohan riders will swoon
For the worm tongue will lead them to treason.
And the new day won’t dawn
For those who fight long,
But the forests will echo with entmoot.

If there’s a traitor in the fellowship
Don’t be alarmed now,
It’s just a vision by the elf queen.
Yes, there are two paths you can go by
But after Moria
You must determine which road you’re on.
And it makes you wander.

Your head is humming and it won’t go
It case you don’t know.
The ring is calling you to take it.
Dear ranger can you hear the wind blow
And did you know
Your stairway lies through the paths of dead?

And as you wind on the down road
The Shadow taller than your soul
There walks a hobbit we all know
Who shines white light where cobwebs grow
And always bears that band of gold.
And if you listen very hard
The reign will come to you at last
Wherefore Arwen and Elessar
Will tie the knot and be made whole.

And he’s guiding a hobbit to Mordor

265

No playing “Stairway to Cirith Ungol”!

Why’s everybody looking at me?
:stuck_out_tongue:

266

Since I’m in Stupid Movie Mode anyway:

Frodos - The Ring of Fate

<Endless scene of the Fellowship walking past scenery…this goes on for 15 minutes>

<The Fellowship finally comes to a lone flet in the wilderness and knocks on the door to ask directions>

Celeborgo, a creepy elf: I am Celeborgo. I watch the place while the Mistress is away.

Aragorn: Hello, uh…Celeborgo. We were wondering if you could direct us to…

Celeborgo: Mordor? It’s too far. You’ll never make it tonight.

Aragorn: Do you mind if we stay here for the night, then?

Celeborgo: The Mistress will not like it…

This actually deserves the full MST3K treatment as a parody, but I’m not up to that…

267

Far out in the uncharted backwaters of the unfashionable end of Eriador lies a small unregarded countryside.
In this land is an utterly insignificant little green town whose men-descended life forms are so amazingly primitive that they still think smoking is a pretty neat idea.
This town has–or rather had–a problem, which was this: most of the people living in it were unhappy for pretty much of the time. Many solutions were suggested for this problem, but most of these were largely concerned with the movements of lots of small birthday gifts, which is odd becuse on the whole it wasn’t the gifts that were unhappy.
And so the problem remained; lots of the people were mean, and most of them were miserable, even the ones with weed-pipes.
Many were increasingly of the opinion that they’d all made a big mistake in coming from Bree in the first place. And some said that even Bree had been a bad move and that no one should ever have left the Anduin.
And then, one Mid-Year’s Day, over three thousand years after one maiar had gotten his finger cut off for trying to rule the world, a wizard sitting on his own at a small inn in Bree suddenly realized what it was that had been going wrong all this time, and he finally knew how the world could be made a good and happy place. This time it was right, it would work, and (hopefully) no one would have to get any digits cut off.
Sadly, before he could arrange to get a letter sent, he made a mistake and headed South, and the idea was lost for ever.
This is not his story.
But it is the story of that mistake, and some of its consiquences.
It is also the story of a ring, a ring called ‘The One Ring’–not a Shire ring, never made in the Shire, and until after the mistake occured, never seen or even heard of by any but a few Shire-folk.
Nevertheless, a wholly remarkable ring.
In fact, it was probably the most remarkable ring ever to come out of the great smoking mountain of Orodruin, of which few Shire-folk had ever heard either.
Not only is it a wholly remarkable ring, it is also a highly dangerous one–more dangerous than Vilya, more suductive than Nenya, and more destructive than Narya.
The One Ring scores over these older, more pedestrian works in two important respects.
First, it has a mind of it’s own, and second, it has the words ‘Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thrakatulûk agh burzum-ishi krimpatul’ inscribed in large friendly elven-script on its exterior.
But the story of this Mid-Year’s Day, the story of it’s extraordinary consequences, and the story of how these consequences are inextricably intertwined with this remarkable ring begins very simply.
It begins with a Hobbit-hole.
LotR according to Douglas Addams

Shucks, Michael Ellis beat me to it. Ahh well.

268

can someone make a robert a. wilson version pleaseee !!! :slight_smile:

269

Note: The following will make little sense unless you have read “The Eye of Argon,” which has been called “The Plan 9 from Outer Space” of fan fiction. And if you haven’t read it, then by all means follow the link http://www-users.cs.york.ac.uk/~susan/sf/eyeargon.htm or Google it up, as it is far funnier by accident than any parody I could write on purpose. And with that, I present:

The Eye of Aragorn

By Jim Theis

The foot steps ambled through the trackless and uninhabited barin desert parched beneath the draconian sun over shadowed by a wafted clouds. The boot-imprimatured marks of passage, pressed deep by the encumbrance of their thus-shod wearers, and smothered under the rain washed dust, radianced dully against the smatter-dusted earth. Rays of luminous incandescence pounced headlong from the phlogistic orb coursing upward in the arcade of the heavens on the obliterated foots path wending through this sector of the great desert of the Trombunist Empire. 

A compassing sword of coruscated steel rammed sparks from the grim mammoth barbarous warrior’s metal ribbed shield he wielded. 

“I’ll conduct you to reunion with your forebears in the Hadean haunts of hell,” whooped the second Orc. 

“Not if I see you first,” gritted the man called Stridr, the Crumhornian. 

Stridr had been in the lead of his party but now advanced back to come between the depredationing Orcs and where his boone companions stood pat, both of who were impressed with terror, and one of them a Hoppit. 

The Orcs had interrupted a piscivorous repast they had caught in a desert lake while crossing the baron and sun toasted sand dunces. Only the chartreuse imbrications of the Hoppit’s blue sword had given claxon to the approaching nemesis. 

“Taste the ebon vengeance of my Saracen steel,” the fervent Crumhornian shouted through his clenched teeth as he planted his feet and pivoted away from the Orc’s preeminent stroke. As if in one motion the enthused Crumhornian brought the two-handed claymore in a downward descent on the Orc’s frangible head, which eructed with a well spring of crimson colored life fluid disseminating out. Stridr priced his sword from the Orcs disppelling viscera, which luft wafted the fetid redolence of death to the Crumhornian’s nose trills. 

“Damn you, marauder”! Husked the dying Orc as he crouched sprawlen on the sod. 

The Crumhornian turned to his two accompanists. Frdo Baggns, the Hoppit, held up his small sword, and they could see by the scarlet glowing turquoise blade that other Orcs skulked them. The crimson glow of the cerulean blade had yet to be wrong. 

Then Stridr beneficially lobbed an cherish glance at the lithe, zaftig young Rwn, his female accompaniment. The pale boned harlot, half dressed in parsimonious silk of dark pastel that closely grasped the promiscuous jaunt of her slender curves smiled lunch-like at him with her thin, full lips in a grin. 

“Death to the foolhardy party of men and elves and Hoppits that has peradventured to invade the fast stronghold of the Trombunist Empire where Orcs supreme hold sway!” barked an Orc rising from behind a rise with drawn sword unsheathed. The pathetic screeches of the dying Orc groveling in melancholy dejection on the trackless wind blown desert granules, his vitals spilling through his uselessly clutching grasp onto the weather beaten dunes, had peeked the Orc’s interest. Never before in the lonely labyrinth of untold eons of ages had the light black eyes starting from his dewey sockets witnessed such an impious sacrilege. 

“Crumhorn!” Barked Stridr, vanely wishing for a brief, fleeting fraction of a moment that his bone companion Gandlf was here to help end the odds. Stridr unleashed a yard of corpusculent steel from his hand hewn leather sheath and, swift as a striking snak, cautiously hurled himself at his litigant. Partially from curiosity and partially from an inordinate fear of dying, the Orc defended himself. 

As the clean-limbed, mighty thewed Crumhornian barbarian savage and the death reeking, fear dealing, brobdingnagian Orc clashed with flying weapons aspark, Frdo Baggns, the Hoppit, crepted up behind the other-way-facing Orc. Cocking his arm backward, Frdo looked for the right opening moment and then leashed his desperate arm outward at a point midwife between the Orc’s hauberk of midevil chain mail and the wide stamped leather belt that held the sagging Orc’s homespun pantaloons at his waist and also secured a slender poniard with encrusted jewels in place. 

The aim of his mark was invisible to the Hoppit’s questing orbs, yet he knew that his anticipated intent must be with reach. He brought his exploratory hand into the breech between belt and hauberk, shuddering to touch the dry, clammy, livid red skin of the Orc. Shuddering with the strength and fear of an unexorcized demon, Frdo turned downward his hand, galvanizing momentarily at the dread that he might have surmised his assumption wrong. Fordreading moments of unmitigated and unreasoning blank terror, his suspense was unasuaged as his crusading hand’s digit encounter nothing excepting the the the cold, unctuous, steamy skin.

Then the extremity of his finger tips were rewarded with the touch of a bunched up and crumbled albeit woven garment. Frdo clamped a tortured gasp from his grinding lungs in exhalation as he vised his finders around the topmost border of the woven garment within the Orc’s homespun breaches. Then setting his thews like tholes of boles, Frdo drew the fabric upward with a yank of drastic tenacity. The startled Orc ceased his sworded hostilities as his eyes opened wide at the lids and protruded egglike forward so that the pupils started in blank disbelief blindishly. As Frdo drew the Orc’s heterodoxically clean undergarment tighter around the Orc’s sacerdotal member, the pensive Orc crimped forward at the waist, expelling a burning gust of tormented breathe into his fiery lungs. The jelly like mass began to bubble like a vat of boiling tar as quavers passed up and down its entire form.
-END OF AVAILABLE COPY-

270

James Joyce

Stately, plump Sam Gamgee descended from the rock lookout over Mordor to eat a morsel of stewrabbit and Guinness whilst the Gollumsmeagolstinker twisted and wept and said twelve Hail Marys. “Jaysus, Mary and Saint Christopher,” intoned Frodo from- the-end-of-a-bag, "and will you look at the size of my ringsteel, ringstone, steelstone but it’s dragging my conscience down into the seventh circle like old Dante and the bejaysus sinners, shitting and pissing into old Sam’s pots and pans. And, yes, I remember Gandalf and I said would he take the bloody thing away, and he said he’d be dammed to Hell before he could, yes and him drinking a cup of tea, yes, and he asked would I, my dear hobbit, would I, yes, in my own little bog-hole in the ground, would I for the love of God, yes, take the fecking thing, all the way, away from the Shire, away from the Guinness, yes, and me looking up at into his eyes, all the way to Mordor, yes, to throw it in the fire, and I said yes, I said yes, I will yes.

271

JiHymas, your P.G. Wodehouse was hilarious! I couldn’t stop laughing!
Also the Cremation of Sam Gamgee was great too… mind if I copy that? It was brilliant…

In comparison, this is pretty lame, but I don’t think any one has done Stevenson:

R.L. Stevenson’s version of LOTR…
Opening paragraph

Gandalf the Grey, Aragorn son of Arathorn, and the rest of these gentleman having asked me to write down the whole particualrs of the journey of the Fellowship, from beginning to end, keeping nothing back, but the bearings of the Havens, as that is still left unknown, I go back to the time when my old uncle Bilbo, still lived at Bag End, and the grey old wiazrd named Gandalf, first took up with us Baggins hobbits.

272

LOTR, by Albert Camus

“I wish the ring had never come to me, I wish known of this had happened”, I replied to Gandalf. I lived my life in the shire, and I knew my life there was privilged. This ring is not part of my life, it never was until my uncle dumped it on me. I was so sure of how things would become, so oblivious of the reality I have walked into. I laid my heart to this ring, open to the benign indifference of the universe. I did not feel it so unlike myself, indeed, it made me realize that I’d been happy, and that I could not be happy again until I was rid of this cursed tool of evil.

“So do all who live to see such times, but that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us” Gandalf solemnly spoke back, as if he were reflecting on events that had already happened.

-Ryan Dietrich

273

someone mentioned eecummings, and so I tried it…

all in black went nazgul riding… (with apologies to eecummings and jrrtolkein)

All in black went Nazgul riding
on a great wyrm of night
into the fires of Mordor

four lean orcs crouched low and snarling
the Merry, Pippin ran before.

Fleeter be they than Shire honey
the short sweet shirelings
the happy halflings

Sword at hip went Nazgul riding
riding the screams down
into the midnight dawn.
four lean orcs crouched low and snarling
the folk of Rohan ran before.

Swifter be they than seeking sight
the proud plains folk
the strong steed folk

Four fleet elves at a deep helm
the famished arrows sang before.
bow at belt went Nazgul riding
riding the nightmares
down into the darkest mines.

four lean orcs crouched low and snarling
the snowy peaks ran before.

paler be they than daunting death
the fierce foul Urk-hai
the sharp strange Urk-hai.
four tall Ents at a brown valley
the fires of Isengard sang before.

All in black went Nazgul riding
on a great wyrm of night
into the fires of Mordor

four stout halflings crouched low and smiling
evil fell dead before.

274

Address to a Hobbit

Fair fa’ your honest, sonsie face,
Great chieftain o’ the halfling-race!
Aboon them a’ yet tak your place,
Painch, tripe, or thairm:
Weel are ye wordy o’a grace
As lang’s my arm.

The groaning trencher there ye fill,
Your hurdies like a distant hill,
Your pin was help to destry te ring
In time o’need,
While thro’ your pores the dews distil
Like amber bead.

Oyrc knife see rustic Labour dight,
An’ cut you up wi’ ready sleight,
Trenching your gushing entrails bright,
Like ony ditch;
And then, O what a glorious sight,
Warm-reekin’, rich!

Then, horn for horn, they stretch an’ strive:
Nazgul tak the hindmost! on they drive,
Till a’ their weel-swall’d kytes belyve
Are bent like drums;
Then auld Ur-Uk-Hai, maist like to rive,
Bethankit! hums.

Is there that owre his Numenor ragout
Or olio that wad staw a sow,
Or fricassee wad make her spew
Wi’ perfect sconner,
Looks down wi’ sneering, scornfu’ view
On sic a dinner?

Poor devil! see him owre his trash,
As feckles as wither’d rash,
His spindle shank, a guid whip-lash;
His nieve a nit;
Thro’ blody flood or field to dash,
O how unfit!

But mark the Rustic, Halfling-fed,
The trembling earth resounds his tread.
Clap in his walie nieve a blade,
He’ll mak it whissle;
An’ legs an’ arms, an’ hands will sned,
Like taps o’ trissle.

Ye Pow’rs, wha mak man a’ elf your care,
And dish them out their bill o’ fare,
Auld Mordor wants nae skinking ware
That jaups in luggies;
But, if ye wish her gratefu’ prayer
Gie her a HOBBIT!
Robert Burns

Stolen by a no-talent who really wanted to participate!..

275

Yet another Monty Python inspired LOTR

Aragorn—sing to the tune of Dennis Moore
Aragorn, Aragorn, riding 'cross the Shire/
Aragorn, Aragron , there they call him Strider/
He likes to kill Orcs/ And smoke a long pipe/
Aragorn, Aragorn, Now where’s he gone?/

Aragorn, Aragorn in the inn at Bree/
Aragorn, Aragorn, a hobbit on his knee/
He likes to drink beer/ And pinch Arwen’s rear/
Though not Gilgalad, not half bad, don’t get him mad./

Aragorn, Aragorn smells of athelas/
Aragorn, Aragorn, been to Belfalas/
He has a broken sword!/
It’s useless at the ford./
Dunadan, Dunadan, dumb again./

Aragorn, Aragorn, doesn’t want the ring/
Aragorn, Aragorn, but can he be a king?/
Does he have the balls/
To knock on Sauron’s walls?/
Like Isildur, Maybe Boromir, more like Butterbur/

276

This thread got posted over on a car board that I read. This is great stuff, and I can’t come close, but here is my little homage to pop culture.

=======
Bilbo rushes into the house where he finds Gandalf staring at a ring…

“Gandalf!! Gandalf!! You gotta come quick, uncle Bilbo’s disappeared and Mom is worried sick!! She’s afraid he might be smoking pipe weed again!! You know how he can’t control himself!”

Gandalf looks at Bilbo and then back at the ring…

“Frodo, do you remember when your mother took uncle Bilbo in and gave him the money to open his bookstore? All she asked is that he look after you and help keep you out of trouble. Well, I’m afraid, dear boy, that trouble has found us!”

Biblo stares wide-eyed at Gandalf…

“Gandalf, do you mean???”
“Yes Frodo, your sister is going to be moving in with us.”
“But Gandalf, I don’t have a sister? My Mom said I don’t have any brothers or sisters!!!”(Frodo begins to look questioningly at Gandalf)
“Frodo, my boy… the woman that has raised you is not your birth mother. This ring belonged to your real mother. You should have it now. You are a young man now and it’s time you know the truth.”

Frodo begins crying uncontrollably and hugs Gandalf.

“Gandalf!!!<sniff,sniff> Gandalf, why me?? Why wasn’t I told? Doesn’t my mother love me??”<sniff>
“She loved you more than you will know boy, and now, you need to carry out her last wishes. She wants you to take this ring and throw it into the volcano of Mount Doom. We must set out tonight, quickly, I will travel with you.”

Frodo stops sobbing long enough to stare at Gandalf with a “deer in the headlights” expression of total disbelief.

“But Gandalf, the Hobbit’s Harvest dance is this weekend!!! Brandy Berry said she’d go with me!! She’s the hottest girl in school Gandalf, everybody is already talking about how lucky I am!! I love her Gandalf, I’ll not go!!! It’s not fair, not fair!”

<Door flings open to reveal the outline of a young, shapely female hobbit>

“Frodo… Frodo Baggins… What, don’t you recognize me? It’s me, Shanna Baggins, your sister.”<Shanna Baggins pulls a pipe to her mouth, inhales deeply and blows a smoke ring that changes into the shape of a large stein before evaporating>

Frodo stares at Shanna, mouth agape.

“uhhhhhhhhhh… Shanna?? Uhhh… You’re too young to be smoking pipe weed. Mom’ll never allow that in this house. You’re gonna get us both in alot of trouble if she smells it!!”

Shanna laughs loudly

“Oh yeah?!?! What’s she gonna do about it? And you can forget about going to the dance with that bitch, Brandy. We’re having a sleep-over instead that night, and I told her you could get us all the beer we can drink. If you don’t come thru, she’ll never speak to you again!”

Frodo stares in shock at Shanna and turns to Gandalf

“Gandalf!! Gandalf!!! Whatta I do???”…

Aaron Spelling - Shire 90210

277

LOTR as A Chipmunk Song

With apologies to Ross Bagdasarian, aka David Seville, and Bob Rivers

Gandalf: All right you hobbits, ready to sing your new song?

Frodo: I’ll say we are!

G: OK, Samwise?

Sam: OK!

G: Meriadoc?

Merry: OK!

G: Pippin? PIPPIN!!!

Pip: Relax, old man, JESUS!

Shire shire times are here,
Time for chow and time for cheer!
We’ve been good but it can’t last,
Wraiths are coming, coming fast!
Want to get to Rivendell–
Skipping meals is bloody hell!
We can hardly stand the wait
Please Arwen don’t be late!

Elvish elvish times are here,
Elrond’s cool and Bilbo’s near,
Tales and beer and fire in hearth–
Best hotel in MiddleEarth!
Need to get to Mordor soon,
Drop the Ring in old Mt. Doom!
We’d prefer another way–
Please Elrond let us stay!

Mannish times are coming down,
Strider wants to wear a crown!
Battles where we fight like hell,
Ring goes bye so all ends well!
Back to Shire we hobbits race,
Frodo soon can’t stand the place–
Takes a cruise to heal the lack,
But Samwise says “I’m back!”

Gandalf: That’s enough, boys.

All hobbits: Let’s sing it again! Yeah, let’s sing it again! I WANNA SING IT AGAIN GOD DAMN IT!

278

The Lord of the Rings:
By Edgar Allen Poe

Oh the power of the ring
The Golden Ring!
The end of the word a mere thing to sing!
In the darkness of the doom,
How we shiver in our room
At the powerful band of gold that shone!
For every one it corrupts
From domination one hobbit disrupts
Is a groan.
And the people - ah, the peoples -
They that dwell up in the steeples,
All alone,
And who, slaving, slaving, slaving,
In that muffled monotone,
Feel a burden from disolving
On a corrupted one that shone -
They are neither man nor elf -
They are neither hobbit nor dwarf -
They are thralls: -
And their king it is to sing: -
The One ring, ring, ring, ring,
Ring
A pæan from the ring!
And no merry voice sing
With the pæan of the ring!
And he dominates, and he’s king;
Keeping watch, watch, watch,
In a sort of rhythmic latch,
To the pæan of the ring -
Of the ring: -
Keeping watch, watch, watch,
In a sort of rhythmic latch,
To the emaciation of the ring -
Of the ring, ring, ring -
To the sobbing of the king: -
Keeping watch, watch, watch,
For the ring, ring, ring,
In a sort of rhythmic latch,
To the start of the ring -
Of the ring, ring, ring: -
To the end of the ring -
Of the ring, ring, ring, ring,
Ring, ring, ring -
To the moaning and the groaning of the ring.

279

Hey there gang!

Just found this site and thread today, through TheOneRing.Net, and couldn’t rest til I’d read all six pages…hilarious, brilliant stuff! And along the way I found myself inspired, so I thought I’d contribute a couple of pieces…

Elflore, somewhere in the universe…

ARAGORN skips through the forest, one hand on the pommel of his sword, the other holding invisible reins. LEGOLAS skips beside him. GIMLI follows behind, clapping two coconut halves together.

Aragorn: Come, Gimli!

Gimli: This is ridiculous! We’re not even supposed to HAVE horsies in this film!

Legolas: Good Gimli, shush!

Up ahead, LURTZ THE BLACK URUK HAI fights an armored ROHIRRIM, with much roaring and gnashing of teeth. As Aragorn and his party enter the clearing, the Rohirrim groans and falls, spouting blood everywhere. Aragorn and Legolas trade appreciative nods, as Lurtz licks his blade clean and stands once more in the center of the road.

Aragorn steps forward.

Aragorn: Good Uruk Hai, your skill is impressive. I am Aragorn, King of Everyone in This Film Because I Say So. I wish you to join me and my Fellowship of Rivendell.

Lurtz: None shall pass.

Aragorn: I’ll take that as a no, then. You make me sad. Come, Gimli. Good Sir Legolas.

Aragorn waves to his companions, who start to follow him across the clearing. Lurtz steps into their way.

Lurtz: None shall pass.

Aragorn: We wish no trouble, Good Uruk Hai, only to be on our way.

Lurtz draws his sword.

Aragorn: Very well.

Aragorn draws his sword as well; Legolas and Gimli stand back, exchanging anxious looks. Cue melodramatic music and several seconds of sword play, before Aragorn hacks off Lurtz’s arm. Blood spurts.

Aragorn: We shall trouble you no further, sir. Good day.

Lurtz: Giving up already, eh?

Aragorn: You’ve got no arm!

Lurtz (looking at his bleeding stump): It’s just a scratch. Have at you!

Cue more dramatic music, as Aragorn and Lurtz trade several more blows…before Aragorn hacks off Lurtz’s other arm. Immediately he kneels and prays.

Aragorn: O heavenly Valar, I thank you for this most noble victory on this day…

Lurtz, hopping about, kicks Aragorn: Get up, you!

Aragorn jumps up to face him.

Aragorn: Would you quit that?

Lurtz: Have at thee, coward! The Black Uruk Hai of the White Hand always triumphs!

Aragorn: What’re you gonna do, bleed on me?

Lurtz: Chicken! Bawk bawk bawk CHICKEN!

Aragorn: I’ll have your leg…

Lurtz: Bawk baaaaaawk…

Aragorn: Right.

Aragorn hacks off Lurtz’s leg. Lurtz hops about on one leg.

Lurtz: RIGHT! Now you’ve done it!

Lurtz hops some more, headbutting Aragorn.

Aragorn: Now this is getting silly.

Aragorn hacks off Lurtz’s other leg, and Lurtz falls to the ground, but remains upright on his stumps.

Aragorn: Come Legolas, come Gimli.

Gimli resumes the coconuts, and the three members of the Fellowship skip on out of the clearing.

Lurtz: Come back here, you cowards! I’ll bite your hairy feet off!

Pippin, to Merry, from where they’ve been watching in the trees: Hey, how did we get dragged into this one?

And another…

Frodo Fraggins, the Heroic Hobbit-Man, stands before Captain Aragorn, that Sword-Slinging Sentinel of Liberty.

Hobbit-Man: Well, Cap, it’s been fun, but I gotta jet. I just don’t think I’m cut out for the team thing, even a classy operation like your Fellowship. I gotta go my own way.

Captain Aragorn: I can’t say I don’t wish you’d reconsider, but I wish you the best of luck. You’re a good man, Hobbit-Man, and a good soldier.

Hobbit-Man: Thanks, Cap…coming from you, that means a lot. And never fear. Your friendly shire-hood Hobbit-Man will never let the Infinity Ring fall into the hands of the vile Sauros or his evil minions. For with great power, even when held in the smallest of things, comes great responsibility!

Captain Aragorn: Godspeed, Hobbit-Man.

Hobbit-Man: See you around, Cap!

Captain Aragorn silently salutes, as Hobbit-Man swings off across the river, musing to himself: It didn’t have to be like this. If only things had been different. If only I could’ve stopped the Black Balrog from throwing poor Gand Stacy from that bridge. If only I’d stopped my gentle Uncle Bilbo from using the ring which destroyed him. If only…but that’s just how life goes when you’re the Heroic Hobbit-Man…

Once Hobbit-Man is out of sight, Captain Aragorn is joined by the Mighty Gimthor, God of Thunder, and Legor, King of the Thousand Seas (who wears only a small pair of green underpants).

Gimthor: Captain…where is yon Hobbit-Man? And what of the perilous Ring he doth carry?

Captain Aragorn: The ring is in good hands, but our friend is gone. Hobbit-Man has his own road to follow. I only hope it brings him peace, in the end.

Legor: Aarr, I’ve tarried with you plainsfolk for too long! The trees need their king! I should return home, leave you mortals to your own foolish devices!

Before Captain Aragorn can reply, his com-unit begins chirping. He flips it open, opening the vid-link with Fellowship Mansion back in Rivendell. On the tiny screen appears the stalwart face of the Fellowship’s trusted manservant, butler, gardener, mechanic, and otherwise jack of all trades except superheroics.

Captain Aragorn: Samvis, what’s wrong?

Samvis: Sir, we’ve just had an urgent SOS from Boro-Man. He says Merry Man and the Pip have been captured. He is attempting a rescue, but he’s badly outnumbered and the integrity of his armor has been compromised.

Captain Aragorn: Tell him we’re on our way, Samvis.

Captain Aragorn closes and pockets the com-unit, sharing a knowing glance with Gimthor and Legor as they leap into action…

All three: FELLOWSHIP FORWARD!!!

From Fellowship Avengers, by Stan Lee and Jack Kirby. Guest appearance by the Heroic Hobbit-Man, created by Stan Lee with Steve Ditko.

280

Oh, whoops…the first was an unedited version, forgot to add the title:

Monty Python and the Fellowship of the Ring

(I also left out Lurtz’s immortal line, “It’s just a flesh wound!”)

Sorry!

281

If BestBrains did Lord of the Rings…
(someone mentioned it earlier)

LotR MST3K style.

In the not to distant future
Or maybe in the past
There was a guy named Gandalf
Who had a pointy hat.

He worked at the tower of Isengard
Just another guy with a long grey beard
He did a good job and had lots of power
But his boss didn’t like him so he
Trapped him a’top the tower.

“I’ll make a an Ork like Army
and call them the Uruk-hai
La La La
I’ll send them after the One Ring
‘cause I’m not a real nice guy.”
La La La
Now keep in mind Gandalf Can’t tell
how far the plot extends,
But he’ll try to foil all of them
With the help of his Hobbit Friends.

Fellowship Roll Call!
Merry
(Are we there yet?)
Pipin
(MUSHROOMS!)
Samwise
(Whatever you say Mr. Frodo)
Frodooooooo
(Dumb stupidy stinky Ring)

If you’re wonder what the big deal is
And other plot related facts.
La La La
Just repeat to your self “It’s a Tolkien thing,
I should realy just relax.”
For Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the rings: Expanded ediiiitionnnn.
(Twang)

(Door sequence.
Hobbit hole, knocking over Bilbo and a plate of food.
Rivendell
The Gates of Moria.
Lothlorien
Amon Hen
Isenguard
Pan back to reviel two figures standing in front of a Palantir. One Stocky man in White robes itching a fake white beard. A large curl of white hair hangs over his broad forhead. The second is a Tall thin fellow in a long green coat with a huge red eye badge over the pocket protector.)

Dr. Sauron: Ah, Hello Boobies. And welcome to the Ulitmate Blasphemy.

(Trapped in Moria: Joel Hodgeson in a very fake grey beard stands with the “Hobbits” ie Tom Servo and Crow with floppy curly hair wigs and vests.

Joel the Grey: Oh, it the evil overlords again.

(Isenguard)
Dr Sauron: That’s DARK evil overlord to you! I see you’ve escaped TV’s Saruman, but that’s not a big surprise. I knew I should never have subcontracted the job out to an idiot like him.

TV’s Saruman: Hey Steve! The Uruk-hai Union rep is here and he want’s to talk to you about “Over time pay”.

Dr. Sauron, rolling his eyes: Not Now Saruman! Can’t you see I’m trying to take over the WORLD HERE! Anyway, Gandalf, with the aid of this little trinket I’ve devised a plan so terrible, so insidouse, so evil it even creeps me out.

(Moria)
Joel the Gray: Uh, ok, so what is it this time? Army of Orks? More black riders?

Frodo Crow: Amway salesmen?

Samwise Servo: Privatizing Health care?

(Isenguard)
Dr. Sauron: Oh it’s much worse than that. As you know Gondor has been a thorn in my side for far to long! So with the Palantir, I’ve managed to get into the head of the Steward of Gondor and turn his mind to marmalade with reruns of “Three’s Company”.

(Moria)
Joel the Gray: You Feind! That IS evil!

Frodo Crow: Oh I dunno, it could have been worse.

Samwise Servo: How?

Frodo Crow: It could have been reruns of “She’s the Sherif.”

(Isenguard)
Dr. Sauron: Good idea, RingBot, but I already used that on Gollum. For you however, I have something far worse in mind. Apart from the usual Middle Earth monsters, I’ve assembled an army of Bad Film Actors to combat you and your “Fellowship” at every turn! In fact, I’ve given the Orks in Moria Joe Don Baker to help destroy you! Mwahahaha!

(Moria)
Joel the Gray: Joe Don Baker? I thought that was a Cave Troll.

Frodo Crow: Yeah, we whooped him already, what else have you got?

(Isenguard)
Dr. Sauron flipping through a note book: Ah Poopie. The only other thing I’ve got down there is a Barlog with heartburn and bad breath. (tossing the notebook over his shoulder) We’ll just see how you deal with that then. And when you’re defeated I shall Rule the World! Hahahahaha! Mwahahahaha!

TV’s Saruman: Steve! They say they get tomorrow of for the feast of the Deep Ones too. You realy should talk to these guys!

Dr. Sauron: Shut up you Ninny!

(Moria)
(Lights and alarms)
Gandalf: We got Expanded Edition Sign!