If LotR Had Been Written By Someone Else!?

Cafe Society
,
422

I heard about this thread and had to contribute.

Here is my offering: “I Have Been One Acquainted With The Ring.” I screwed up the rhyme structure a bit, but then again, I’m not as cool as Robert Frost.

I have been one acquainted with the Ring.
I have walked down The Road —and Back Again.
I bore to Mordor this accursed thing.

I have looked upon the glories of the elves.
I watched them passing back into the east,
And dropped my eyes, and grieved for them myself.

I have stood still and feared the sound of wings,
When far above the strange inhuman cry
Came down to herald Nazgul hunting rings.

But I could not hold back or turn and fly;
And further my burden I must bring,
In Barad-dur the bright and lidless eye

Proclaimed this Middle Earth a fading thing.
I have been one acquainted with the Ring.

423

I can’t believe I haven’t seen this one yet: LotR as sung by Star Trek’s ‘Spock’, Leonard Nimoy…

http://www.ussjoshua.org/bbaggins.mov

Hilarious, but not for the faint of heart…

424

elves go into the WEST. Stupid me. Stupid board for blocking me from editing my post.

425

THE AGE IT IS A-CHANGIN’
by Hob Dylan

Come gather ‘round Hobbits
Wherever you roam
And admit that the ruffians
Around you have grown
And accept it that you’ll be
Turned out of your homes
If your Shire to you is worth savin’
Then you better start scourin’
Or you’ll sink like Orod-na-Thôn
For the Age it is a-changin’

Come seers like Malbeth who prophesize in verse
And keep your eyes wide
The Dead are under a curse
And don’t speak too soon
For Mount Doom’s going to burst
And there’s no tellin’ who that it’s flamin’
For the Orc-hordes now
Will get beaten the worst
For the Age it is a-changin’

Come Rohirrim, Dunlendings, please heed the call
Leave your weapons at the doorway of the Golden Hall
For he that does not
Must clean the Mearas’ stalls
There’s a battle outside
And it’s ragin’
It’ll soon ram your gates
And batter your walls
For the Age it is a-changin’

Come Sackvilles and Proudfoots
Throughout the land
And don’t criticize
What you can’t understand
Your Tooks and your Gamgees
Are beyond your command
The old road goes ever on and on
Please get out of the new one
If you can’t fight Sauron
For the Age it is a-changin’

The white wizard’s Gandalf
The brown’s Radagast
The King will return
And reign at Fornost
As the present now
Will later be past
The Elves are rapidly fadin’
And the One Ring into
Mount Doom will be tossed
For the Age it is a-changin’

(Third Age, that is… Departure of Elves… Dominion of Men…)

426

DESOLATE MORDOR
by Hob Dylan

They’re selling fireworks for the party
They’re making the Ent-lands Brown
The ships are filled with Corsairs
The Grey Company is in town
Here comes the Mouth of Sauron
He’s got us in a chill
One hand holds the grey Elven cloak
The other holds the mithril
And the army of the West is restless
They need somewhere to go
As the Lady and I look out tonight
On desolate Mordor

Ioreth, she seems so catty
“It takes a king to heal,” she smiles
And puts her hands into the athelas
Queen Beruthiel style
And in comes Éowyn, she’s moaning
“I’m a shieldmaiden I believe”
And Théoden says, “You’re in the wrong place, my girl
You’d better leave”
And the only sound that’s left
After the Captains go
Is Ioreth sweeping up
On desolate Gondor

Now the moon is almost hidden
The stars are beginning to hide
The Lothlórien Lady
Has even taken all of her Elves inside
All except for Elladan and Elrohir
And the Ghân-buri-Ghân
Everyone else is making war
Or else expecting Elrond
And Prince Imrahil, he’s girding up
He’s getting ready for the show
He’s going to do battle tonight
On desolate Mordor

Now Arwen, she’s 'neath the window
For her I feel so afraid
On her 2,222nd birthday
She already is an old maid
To her, death is quite romantic
She wears a mithril vest
Her ancestry is Half-Elven
Her fate is her deathlessness
And though her eyes are fixed upon
Manwë’s great rainbow
She spends her time peeking
Into desolate Mordor

Aragorn, disguised as Strider
With his memories of Gil-Galad’s hosts
Passed this way an hour ago
With his friends, the Dunharrow ghosts
He looked so rough and rascally
As he bummed a pipe of weed
Then he went off picking kingsfoil
And reciting Lúthien’s deeds
Now you would not think to look at him
But he was famous long ago
For riding around as Thorongil
To desolate Mordor

Dr. Saruman, he keeps his world
Inside of a rocky cup
But all of the angry Ent-folk
They’re trying to tear it up
Now his Worm, some local loser
He’s in charge of the Palantír
And he also keeps the counsel that says
“The king should be in fear”
They all chant “ta-rûna-rûna-rûna-rom!”
You can hear them blow
If you lean your head out far enough
From desolate Mordor

Across the Downs they’ve stripped the Hobbits
They’re getting ready for the kill
The old Wights of the Barrows
Haunting the Carn Dûm hills
They’re torturing poor Gollum
To find out who got the Ring
Then they’ll kill him with Shelob
After poisoning him with her sting
And the Wight’s groaning to Bombadil
“Get outa here if you don’t know
Gollum is just being punished for going
To desolate Mordor”

Now at midnight all the Nazgûl
And the super-Orkish crew
Come out and round up everyone
That knows more than they do
Then they bring them to Minas Morgul
Where Grond the battering machine
Is aimed at the gate of Gondor
And then the noisome Morgul-sheen
Is brought down from the tower
By black Ringwraiths who go
Check to see that no one is escaping
To desolate Mordor

Praise be to Vala Ulmo
Ar-Pharazôn sails at dawn
And everybody’s shouting
“Which Side Is Númenor On?”
And Arvedui and Witch-King Angmar
Are fighting in the White Towers
While Dwarvish miners battle Orcs
And Cave-Trolls trample flowers
Between the windows of the Sea
Where rebellious Noldorin war
And nobody has to think too much
About desolate Mordor

No, I didn’t receive your letter yesterday
(About the time the door-bell broke)
When you entrusted it to Butterbur
Was that some kind of joke?
All these Ringwraiths that you mention
Yes, I know them, they’re quite lame
I had to flood them down the river
And give the waves horses’ manes
Right now I can’t read too good
Don’t send me no more letters, no
Not unless you mail them
From desolate Mordor

427

Excerpt from Zork of the Rings:

You are in a dark place. You are likely to be eaten by an orc.

> light staff

Your staff flares to light. You are in a great underground chamber overlooking a chasm. A thin stone bridge stretches over the chasm to the east. A darkened entryway goes west. A hideous balrog blocks further passage to the east.

> fight balrog with sword

You’re kidding, right?

> look at balrog

It is like a great shadow, in the middle of which is a dark form, of man-shape maybe, yet greater; and a power and terror seems to be in it and go before it… Its streaming mane kindles and blazes behind it. In its right hand is a blade like a stabbing tongue of fire; in its left, a whip of many thongs… The shadows about it reach out like two vast wings. It raises the whip, and the thongs whine and crack. Fire comes from its nostrils.

> what is a balrog

A balrog is a demon of shadow and flame, one of the Maiar. They originate from the Undying Lands and are feared even by dragons.

> break bridge

With what?

> break bridge with staff

The stone bridge holds.

> say to balrog, “you shall not pass”

The balrog hesitates.

> attack bridge with staff

The bridge shatters under the impact, the balrog falling away into darkness. As it goes, it snaps its flaming whip, which wraps around your leg and pulls you from your lofty perch.

> catch edge of bridge

You manage to snag the edge of the stone bridge, but the weight of the balrog threatens to make you lose your grip.

> say to companions, “fly, you fools!”

They heed your advice. Your fingers release the edge of the bridge, plunging you into the chasm.

428

The saddlebag of a dark rider’s horse OPENS UP, MT. WEATHERTOP looms in the background. The ring wraiths reach inside, taking out daggers of Mordor, and unsheathing them.

Nazgul #1
We should have mithril swords for this kind of deal.

Nazgul #2
How many up there?

Nazgul #1
Three or four.

Nazgul #2
Counting the human?

Nazgul #1
I’m not sure.

Nazgul #2
So there could be five guys up there?

Nazgul #1
It’s possible.

Nazgul #2
We should have fuckin’ mithril swords.

They CLOSE the saddlebag.

429

Here’s one more fragment from a Hob Dylan song:

Now, Gandalf, he’s in the attic
With his pointed hat and his staff
Talking to some Uruks
Who say I make them laugh
And I would send a message
To find out what Baggins has got
But the Pony has been raided
And Butterbur has forgot

Oh, Gwaihir, can this really be the end
To be stuck here on top of Orthanc with the Gondor blues again

P.S.
I imagined another Hob Dylan song title:
“LIKE A SEEING-STONE” :wink:

430

Jomo Mojo, love your Dylan parodies! Do you think you could do one to “Subterranean Homesick Blues?”

lastin

431

Frodo Bing: Could we BE in any more peril? Mt. Doom is SO much further than Tulsa!

JoeWise: Don’t worry, Mr. Frodo, I’m sure it’ll be fine, so long as they have sandwiches there. Besides, we got this guide helping out here. Hey, How you doin’?

SmeaGellar: Um, ittttt burnsssssssssssss, like, I could help, but um…there’s this thing…my precioussssssssss…I, uhhhhh…

Frodo Bing: Could you FORM a complete sentence?

Elsewhere:

Tom Phoebedil:

SmeaGellar, SmeaGellar,
Why are they torturing you?

SmeaGellar, SmeaGellar,
It’s not your fau-au-aullllt!!!

Friends: The One with the Ring.

432

RING DWARF Series I Episode 1, “The End” by J. R. R. Grant Naylor

Int. The Prancing Pony kitchen.

FRODO is carrying a clipboard; behind him comes SAM, pushing a trolley full of tools and spare parts.

SAM: (Singing) To Edoras and Mirkwood, yes sir, I’ve been around…
FRODO: SAM.
SAM: Huh?
FRODO: Have you ever been hit over the head with a wooden mallet?

SAM shakes his head no.

FRODO: No? Stop that and push the trolley.
SAM: (With a mock salute) Yes, sir, Mr. FRODO!

They approach a soup pot.

FRODO: Right. Soup pot 172.

SAM begins humming the same song.

FRODO: SAM, shut up!
SAM: I’m only humming!
FRODO: Well don’t.

SAM stops humming and continues the tune by holding his mouth open and slapping his cheeks.

FRODO: SAM, don’t hum and don’t make any stupid sounds with your
cheeks.

SAM stops slapping his cheeks and decides to do a rendition of “A Wizard’s Staff Has a Knob on the End” [sorry, wrong fantasy world!] by making clicking sounds in his throat.

FRODO: SAM, one more sound, anything, and you’re on report, my laddo. What job number’s this?

SAM mimes talking without making a sound.

FRODO: Right! That’s it! (Begins writing on his clipboard) “Gamgee, S., Third Hobbit. Offense: obstructing a superior hobbit by humming, clicking, and being quiet.” When Butterbur sees this you’re dead.
SAM: FRODO, I’m bored!
FRODO: Bored?! This is essential routine maintenance! It’s absolutely vital for the well-being of this inn, this quest, and this obsessively well-developed fantasy world. (Reading his clipboard) “Soup pot 172: chicken soup tastes funny.”

He puts down his clipboard.

FRODO: Pass me a 14B, SAM.

SAM hands him a wad of greyish rag.

FRODO: SAM, is this a 14B? Does it look even remotely like a 14B?

He reaches into the parts trolley and pulls out another wad of greyish rag, indistinguishable from the first.

FRODO: This is a 14B, SAM. This (indiLEGOLASing the original) is a 14F. Are you blind?!
SAM: Who cares?
FRODO: I care, SAM!

FRODO looks at them both, realises he can’t tell the difference either, and quickly puts the one he chose back in the trolley.

FRODO: It’s my career, SAM. I’m the one who gets it in the neck if a ranger comes along, orders chicken soup, and tastes yesterday’s washing, heavy on the socks with a piquant dash of undergarments.

FRODO swabs out the inside of the pot with the 14 whatever.

FRODO: (To the soup pot) Chicken soup.

FRODO waits a moment, then realizes that this is not a magical soup pot and standing around looking at it will do nothing. He grabs another pot, also containing chicken soup, and pours it into pot 172. He then ladles out a cup of the soup for himself. FRODO takes a sip of it, grimaces in disgust, and spits it out.

FRODO: Yep. That’s working.

A guy dressed in poncy armor glides down the corridor and strikes a pose at the end so the light reflects favorably off the shiny bits. This is LEGOLAS. He does a somersault and three twirls.

LEGOLAS: Aaahhh, ooowww, eee! How am I looking? (He pulls out a small mirror.) Looking nice. No, wait a minute. I’m looking better than nice. I’m looking dangerous. Aaaoooww, dangerous! Aaaooowww! I look so good, I’m tempted to have a facial expression. Hey, what’s that? Oh, it’s my shadow. Hey, even my shadow’s looking nice! I’m looking nice, my shadow’s looking nice – what a team! We are unbelievable! OK, team, this way. (He points in one direction and then changes his mind) No, this way. Aaaooowww, yeah. (He reaches an intersection) This way!

FRODO is still following SAM.

FRODO: SAM, just hold your horses. Listen to me–

He’s interrupted by LEGOLAS spinning into view.

LEGOLAS: Aaaooowww! (Notices SAM and FRODO) Uh oh. Better make myself
look manly!

LEGOLAS holds up his sword and looks fierce. SAM and FRODO turn tail and run.

LEGOLAS: Hee hee! Fearsome. I was fearsome!

SAM and FRODO are backing away from the door, until SAM backs into a table and nearly jumps out of his skin.

SAM: Aaahhh! GANDALF, what was that?
GANDALF: [his voice emanating from nowhere] During the Three Ages, Sam, the elves have gone from a fierce, war-like race concerned with the well-being of all Middle Earth inhabitants to a bunch of self-absorbed pretty boys who like to nance around in hidden glades admiring themselves in mirrors and sniggering about how superior they are to the race of men and how much nicer it will be when they go into the West. And they’ve been breeding there for three million years, and have evolved into the life form you just saw in the corridor.
SAM: I don’t get it.
GANDALF: Well, you know how hobbitkind evolved from, er, very small apes?
SAM: Yeah, I know that.
GANDALF: He evolved from poofters. His ancestors were poofters. He’s descended
from poofters. He is a poofter.

Suddenly LEGOLAS enters the room, twirling and howling.

LEGOLAS: Aaahhh, ooohhh, yeah-- (Freezing as he notices the others.)
SAM: Hello … elf?
LEGOLAS: (Noticing something on his sleeve) Whoa! Crease!

LEGOLAS pulls out a small steam iron and runs it over the sleeve.

FRODO: Stand back, SAM.

Screaming incoherently, FRODO takes up a Kung Fu posture and leaps at LEGOLAS, hands and feet flying everywhere. He passes straight through the spread legs of the astonished LEGOLAS at knee-level and disappears out the door.

433

Heh, to think I thought my thread was going to die. Silly, silly me. :wink:

Welcome everyone from theonering.net! With your help, we should have every author in the history of western civilization covered in no time. :wink:

434

See what you started, Fingolfin? Anairë must be proud of you. Does she visit you in Mandos? Are there conjugal visits in Mandos?

Congrats on siring a mighty thread!

435

But are we going to make it to 500 replies:eek: and 50,000 :eek::eek: by the new year?

436

I can’t believe I haven’t seen reference to this, so I have to presume most of you haven’t seen the Harvard Lampoon parody titled Bored of the Rings. Published in 1969, it out-dates any one younger than forty-five or so. It was published by Signet if any of you want to search used bookstores, or www.alibris.com.

“Starring” Dildo Bugger, the Finder of the Ring, His nephew Frito Bugger, Goodgulf Greyteeth the Wizard, Spam, Firto’s loyal servant, their friends Moxie and Pixie Dingleberry (two more Boggies from the Sty), Stomper the Ranger, also known as Arrowroot of Arrowshirt, Gimlet son of Groin, Bromosel man of Minas Troney, and Legolam the elf.

Orlon, Master of the Last Homely House East of the Sea and Gift Shoppe, Sends them on the quest to toss the Ring into the Zazu pits of Fordor, while the Nine Nozdrul attempt to recover the Ring for Soorhead.

They of course, have adventures with Tim Benzedrine, the Riders of Roi-Tan, Goddam, and many other characters you would never associate with the real LOTR,

At 160 pages, it can be read about as quickly as this thread! LOL

(Seriously, it is a real book!)

437

Well, this is my first post, but it’s an impressive thread, so I thought I’d add my wee bit of inspiration:

It was a warm, spring day, that fateful afternoon on the outskirts of the sleepy shire-town of Bag End. The small man didn’t realize the tumultuous times just ahead of him were but the will of Fate calling for action to be taken. No one realized in the sleepy town what the significance of the visit from the old man Gandalf would play on the future of the world. Indeed, it was but another yearly visit from the old wizard to his good friend that led him into that Hobbit-hole, or so it was assumed. Indeed, no one would have assumed that the man so short in stature would make such a difference as to topple an evil so great that it dwarfed even the ghastly thought of running out of legumes for the second daily breakfast.

But it was that fateful day in late spring that sparked a journey that would take the man so unassuming, so peaceful in nature to the very bowels of Mordor itself! To cast away the Ring that had caused such untold pain and suffering upon the whole of Middle-Earth was not a job for the faint of heart. Oh, no! It was a quest to be taken by one of valor and knightly stature, for what role would a mere hobbit play in the fate of the all of Middle-Earth, aside from keeping away from trouble?

Page 2.
Have you ever tried to fasten a roof gutter while standing on a rickety ladder and wielding nothing more than a rusted claw hammer? We all have. And that is the reason the folks over at Gildor’s Smithy have developed a new way to fasten your gutters. It’s the new Gildor’s Guttermate. Fasten your gutters with the ease of an elven engineer. I know I do. Available at all True-Value hardware stores, and home centers.

And now, the rest of the story…
Although the little hobbit was helped along by the ragtag group of adventurers, and even had been given by the queen of the elves herself the mighty short blade known as Sting, and though he had the One true ring of power in his possession, it was not a journey that was to be taken lightly. It was in fact, a journey that would test the very mettle the little hobbit had coursing through his veins, lo, those long many days ago. For it was known by those who studied such things as the art of magic, that none but the most stalwart of heart could even hold the Ring whilst resisting its power over its wielder. Indeed, the ring had corrupted all it had touched, and many that had merely gazed into its golden surface and seen the writing in that ancient tongue. But the little hobbit was determined to do what was right, for he knew that the fate Bag End, indeed the whole world, rested in his little hands. Oh, what a burden! The Ring felt heavy in his little hands.

But it was to come to pass that, even when persued by the dark powers of the Dark Lord, the Nazgul, and beset upon by giant spiders and a weasely, mutated creature named Gollum, this little hobbit was to destroy the One Ring and return Middle-Earth to its present state of peace and goodness to all its inhabitants.

It was then that the man was to go down in the annals of history. The man we know as…

… Frodo Baggins.

And now you know, the rest of the story.

Paul Harvey…
… Good day!

438

Since somebody asked…

LotR by Mike Judge

<Arwen, bearing Frodo before her, charges for the ford with the Nine at her heels>

Arwen: “Narolim, Asfoloth!”

Frodo: “Uh huh huh huh… hey, baby. I’m, like, pitching a tent here… huh huh huh…”

<Arwen and Frodo cross the ford. The ringwraiths attempt to follow, but are washed away by elvish magic, Frodo swoons and falls to the ground>

Frodo: “Huh huh huh. Dude, did I just, like, score…?”

a little later…

<The Council of Elrond is held in the last homely trailer park in Middle Earth>

Elrond: Now, Ah don’t want you boys playin’ around with some damn evil ring. It could be dangerous. Ya gotta throw it in the Crack of Doom."

Frodo: “Uh huh huh huh… he said ‘crack.’”

Sam: “M heh heh m heh… yeah. That was cool.”

Frodo: “Shut up, dumbass. There’s, like, elves here and stuff. We could totally score.”

Sam: “Yeah! Score! That rocks!”

Elrond: “Are you two even listening to me? What the…? Sam! What the damn hell you doin’ with yer hand in yer pants??? You whackin’ it in mah trailer?”

Sam: “Uh… no…”

much later…

<Galadriel sees the Hobbits safely away from Lothlorien>

Galadriel: “Take with you these wafers of lembas, the waybread of the elves. They will give you strength on your journey.”

Frodo: “Uh… okay. Thanks.”

Sam: “Yeah. Cool.”

<Sam unwraps a wafer and pops it into his mouth. He chews for a few seconds, swallows, and a glazed look comes over him as his eyes dilate madly. He immediately pulls his surcoat over his head>

Sam: “I AM SAMHOLIO! I AM A HOBBIT GRINGO! I LIVE IN A BUNGHOLE!”

Frodo: “Cut it out, buttwipe!”

Sam/Samholio: "

439

OOOh - **Judge Judy/b] anyone???

440

I still have my original Signet paperback, Price: $0.95
Didn’t you notice all the riffs on Tim Benzedrine earlier in this thread?
And
“An elven maid there was of old,
A stenographer by day”
etc.

441

That last one got cut off… (*&^%$#ing system…) but, probably just as well. I’d rather not assume FULL responsibility for the continued decline of Western society.

Still, since someone else asked:

“Meesa called Samwise Binks. Meesa your humble servant. Meesa be helpin’ yousa to be destroyin’ dat ring, okee-daye?”

I can’t go on. It only gets worse from here…

So, to show that I’m not TOTALLY uncultured, a little more Gilbert & Sullivan, if you please:

I am the very model of the modern magus Mithrandir
I fought the Balrog in the chasm and was his extinguisher
I know who is the king to be and all Middle Earth’s history
As well as all the lin-e-age that makes up Strider’s ancestry
I ride upon the mearas that is known to you as Shadowfax
And fight Saruman’s tyranny by leading Rohan in attacks
For guidance information about messing with a palantír
I am the very model of the modern magus Mithrandir