If LotR Had Been Written By Someone Else!?

Cafe Society
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602

Lord of the Ringo! – As per request by the population of the Baen.Ringo newsgroup, This is my take on how John Ringo would have written Lord of the Rings.

“Ok! Let’s move!” Gandalf yelled and gestured down the cavern, away from the fire. “That should hold them, but I don’t know for how long! Sergeant Aragorn?”
“Sir!”
“Redistribute Corporal Gimli’s ammo amongst the Hobbits. They can’t fight worth st, so they may as well make themselves useful!”
Shots rang out from behind the team as they dashed on towards the bridge. Goblin snipers had taken up vantage points in the walls and were shooting down at the fleeing troops. Luckily, they were well out of effective aimed range of Goblin AS-215 Shortbows.
“C’Mon!” the Leftenant bellowed. “We’re nearly there.”
No sooner had the words left his lips but his armour chirped and his HUD began displaying a glowing red icon.
“Shit! We’ve got Incoming!”
A Balrog class heavy tank hove into view, its many turrets spitting fire. The lighter railguns mounted on the sides for anti-infantry operations couldn’t penetrate the Fellowship’s armour, but the main gun, firing 200mm depleted-Uranium discarding-sabot rounds would wipe them out in an instant.
Gandalf reached the bridge and spun in place, levelling his own Grav-Rifle at the approaching leviathan as the remainder of his team sprinted past and across the narrow bridge to safety.
“Ok you mother fker…” He intoned, charging the gun and initialising his targeting software “… You ain’t makin’ it past me. So let’s dance.”

603

What if LoTR was done by, say, DeBeers?

DeBeers LoTR

Boy, work sure is tough today…!

604

Lord of the Rings - As written by IBM

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A/N 66579822315

605

I am not a fan of the LOTR books but I must say this.

Please let me salute all of you. I can’t believe this thread could exist. You guys are so well read! I am sure JRR Tolkien himself must have been very proud. I cam not only in awe with you guys (and girls), but you just got the real author’s style and expressions. So true! I especially like the parodies of famous authors. I wonder why don’t you guys do a Moby Dick version, or Things Fall Apart. I am sure you will do great.

My favourites in here are plenty, special note to the Sun Tzi part. Anyone read Journey to the West? Care to do one on that? What about Jeffrey Archer? Perhaps their styles are not prominent enough?

Excellent!

606

BTW…sorry the clip is in Real, but it’s what I have to work with for compression here at the office!

607

The Case of the Lost Ring
By A. Conan Doyle

Fog dimmed the windows of our comfortable rooms at Bag End, Hobbiton, as my friend Frodo Baggins and I took our ease before a crackling fire one autumn afternoon late in the Third Age of this World. Suddenly Frodo’s voice broke the silence.
“Never fear, Sam, we shall see Bilbo again one day. I am sure of it.”
“My dear fellow, how on earth did you guess what I was thinking?”
“I never guess, Sam,” he answered reprovingly. “I knew you were thinking of Bilbo—your thought processes were as clear to me as a rain-curtain of silver glass.”
I demanded an explanation.
“Elementary, my dear Sam. I noticed you rubbing, as though in pain, at the toe you stubbed in the melee after Bilbo’s strange disappearance at his birthday party. You then glanced longingly at the cupboard where the remaining bottles of Old Winyard are stored, after which you shook your head and tut-tutted, no doubt wishing that he had left the key behind. It was a simple process to deduce that you were pining for the old fellow.”
As always, I was astounded by my friend’s astuteness.
Just then someone rapped sharply at the door. I opened it, noticing with chagrin a fresh chip in the coat of green paint I had just applied, and admitted a tall, stooped visitor clad all in black. Although the hood of his cloak hid his features, I caught a glimpse of one burning eye. With an air of frantic desperation, he cried out, “Mr. Baggins, I have urgent need of your services. I have lost a ring, a very precious ring. It must be found. You are my last hope!”
Frodo motioned for our new client to take a seat and then said, “Now, then, tell me all about it. Omit no detail, however slight. . . .”

608

Yet another from Sir Walter Scott, this time a stanza from The Lay of the Last Minstrel:

Breathes there a hobbit with a soul so dead
Who, to himself hath said, “This is my own, my precious?”
Whose heart hath within him burned
As in his hands the ring he hath turned
Whilst wandering on a foreign strand?
If such there breathe go mark him well,
For him no minstrel raptures swell
High though his title, proud his name
Boundless his friendships as wish can claim,
Despite those titles, power and pelf,
The wretch, concentered all in self
Dying shall forfeit fair reknown
And doubly dying, shall go down
Shall go down to the vile dust from whence he sprung,
Unwept, Unhonoured and Unsung.

609

Questin’ to Mordor
with apologies to: Jon Bon Jovi, Richie Sambora, and Desmond Child

Once upon a time
Not so long ago
Frodo used to live in the Shire
Fellowship’s broken up
He’s down on his luck…it’s tough, so tough
Stryder fights the orcs back all day
Slaying for his clan, he keeps them at bay
For man – for man

He says: We’ve got to hold on to what we’ve got
'Cause it makes quite a difference
If we make it or not
We’ve got the one ring and Sauron’s hot
For man – we’ll toss it right in!

Woah, we’re half way there
Woah, questin’ to Mordor
Take the ring and we’ll make it - I swear
Woah, questin’ to Mordor

Legolas’ got his bow strung taut
Now he’s holding back with the
Strength of ten men – he’s smooth, sooo smooth

Samwise dreams of running away
Frodo cries in the night
Smeagul whispers: Precious they’ll pay, someday

We’ve got to hold on to what we’ve got
'Cause it makes quite a difference
If we make it or not
We’ve got the one ring and Sauron’s hot
For man - we’ll toss it right in!

Oh, we’re half way there
Woah, questin’ to Mordor
Take the ring and we’ll make it - I swear

We’ve got to hold on ready or not
You live for the fight when it’s all that you’ve got

We’re half way there
Woah, questin’ to Mordor
Take the ring and we’ll make it - I swear
Woah, questin’ to Mordor
Talia (first filk…ugh!)

610

“The Dreaming Hobbit”
by Isak Dinesen

 Galadriel had washed little Frodo and watercombed his hair.  She had also, a few hours before, hurriedly informed him of the situation with the ring and his own station in  life. The hobbit had received the news in silence; he only asked her how the tall, pale elves had found them. "Oh, by the smell," said Galadriel.
 Frodo had got up onto the Step-Ladder of Galadriel to look into the blue basin and witness the blue future of the fellowship.  He was still standing tip-toes on it, when Galadriel, in her pale blue dress, the color of Destiny, came behind him and lifted the surprised hobbit up to the basin's stony rim. The hobbit turned and gazed straight into her almondine blue eyes.  For a moment the two looked at each other.  But, which was the elf, and which the hobbit?
She said: "Let me tell you a story, Frodo Baggins.  When there is only one person in the world whom you care for, and that is an orc-hunter, and he is dead, then that is a pity."

“Yes,” said the hobbit. “And now I understand everything.”

611

A hundred feet in the water he lowered his webbed feet and strained to hold a painful hard twisted curve through his swimming. The curve meant that he would swim slowly, and now he slowed until the ocean stood still above him. He narrowed his eyes in fierce concentration, held his breath, forced one … single … more … inch … of … curve … Then he stalled.

Gollums, as you know, never falter, never stall. To stall in the water is for them disgraced and it is dishonor.

But Gollum, unashamed, stretching his hands again in that trembling hard curve - slowing, slowing, and stalling once more - was no ordinary bird.

Sullivan shook his head. “If our friendship depends on space and time, then when we finally overcome space and time, we’ve destroyed our own brotherhood. When you come to the edge of all the light you have known, and are about to step out into darkness, Faith is knowing one of two things will happen; There will be something to stand on, or you will be taught to fly. The only answer I can see, Gollum, is that you are pretty well a one-in-a-million bird. Do you have any idea how many lives we must have gone though before we even got the first idea that there is more to life than eating, or fighting, or power in the Fellowship? A thousand lives, Gollum, ten thousand! And then another hundred lives until we began to learn that there is such a thing as perfection, and another hundred again to get the idea that our purpose is to find that perfection and show it forth. Do you know what perfection is?”

“Yessss,” said Gollum. “It’s my preccccioussssss. My preciousssss. And I wants it!”

– Richard D. Bach, “Jonathan Livingston Smeagol”

612

Lord of the Rings – As written by Joss Whedon

“Oh no! Xando!!”
Buffagorn looked down at where Sam was cradling Xando’s head in… He hadn’t realised it up ‘till now, but Sam was in fact a girl… So it was ‘her’ lap.
“Don’t worry Sam!” Buffagorn rested his hand on his new friend’s shoulder. He had met the Hobbits, or the ‘Scooby gang’ as they liked to be called, at the Prancing Pony in Bree. He was still having trouble with accepting his destiny, not to mention his Girlfriend… “He’ll be fine. I know someone… Angelwen Evenstar… She’s an Elf and her father’s magic can heal Xando.”
Sam sniffed loudly and wiped away a tear. “Really?”
“Sure.”

Off on the other side of the clearing, the other two scoobies were sitting, feeling a little left out of the action. Cordeliadoc – known as Cordy – was busy attending to her nails, while the final member, Peregrine Osbourne (A rocker hobbit going by the stagename of Poz) was tuning his Lute. Cordy sighed.
“This is Sooo lame… I mean, Xando gets a tiny scratch from those Nazgul dorks and the next thing you know Sam is hanging all over him. That just sucks… Aren’t you jealous and stuff?”
Poz looked up from his Lute tuning and glanced over at Sam, sniffing over Xando’s still form.
“No.”
Cordy huffed and went back her nails.

Buffagorn lifted his head, scenting something on the wind.
“Ah! Finally!”
There was a sudden burst of light and a beautiful woman rode into the clearing, she was wearing black leather from head to toe and had a look of bleak, despairing darkness splashed across her brilliant features. As she swung down from the saddle, Buffagorn ran to her and threw his arms around her slight shoulders. She responded by tilting her head up to kiss him.
“Buff…”
“Angelwen… I know I swore I’d never call you but…”
“Buff… You know we can never be together… My immortality and my father… Not to mention my race mean that we can never be together… But I can’t get you out of my heart! Oh Buffagorn!”
“Oh Angelwen!”
Continuing our Joss Whedon season…

Lord of the Rings – ReWritten by Joss Whedon (No. 2 – Firefly)

“Gorramit!!”

This series’ ratings are too low and, as such, it has been cancelled – The Fox Executives.

613

The Sick Hobbit
by J.R.R. Blake

O Frodo, thou art sick.
The invisible wraith
That rides in the night
With the howling wail:

Has smelt out thy ring
Of gold alloy:
And his dark Mordor blade
Does thy life destroy.

…and all this night, i’m thinking:
“Be sure your sins will find you out!”

614

Balrog

A Balrog, Balrog, burning hides
In Khazad-dûm, within the Mines,
What nigh-immortal hand or eye,
Could tan thy fearful (and thick) hide?

In what distant deeps or mines,
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
And when the drums began to beat,
Who raised alarm to sound of feet?

What the horn and what the noise,
That managed to disturb your poise?
How the intruders that were chased,
Dared your deadly terrors face!

And what shoulder, & what art,
Could twist cold metal into your heart?
Did you misjudge the grey-attired,
The wielder of the Hidden Fire?

When the party dropped their gear
And wailed and fled thee shedding tears:
Did you smile your work to see?
Did you ask why one didn’t flee?
Balrog, Balrog, burning bright,
Falling downwards into night,
What nigh-immortal hand or eye,
Now tans thy fearful (and thick) hide?

…had to slightly shuffle lines about, alas.

615

(more William Blake)

Where did you sleep last night, fey elf?
Where did you lay your head?
I lay my bow on the mossy earth
and made myself a bed,
and in the morning ate lembas
and then towards Rohan sped.

(does anyone know the original poem? I got this from Nancy Willard’s Visit to William Blake’s Inn, in which she used the scansion and rhyme scheme of Blake’s poetry…)

616

More from William Shakesfoot. (…“Shakesfeet!”)

*Scene 29 act vii -
Moria.

The Goblins disperse.*

Gimli: Hah!

Legolas: Look! What light through yonder tunnel breaks?

Boromir: What new manner of devilry is this? The Sun?

Gandalf: A Balrog. We must make haste.

Exeunt Fellowship

*Scene 29 act viii -
Upon the stairs:

Legolas leaps.
Gandalf leaps.*

Boromir: To leap, perchance to scream - to scream -

Seizing Meriadoc and Peregrine, he leaps.

Aragorn: What ho Dwarf!

**Gimli:**Toss me? You’ll not Toss me,
A Dwarf! - out of the question!
'Tis not nobler in my mind to be slung across -
What outrageous fortune!

Gimli leaps.

Gimli: Unhand my beard! Bah!

*A rock through yonder staircase falls.
Aragorn and Frodo follow through in perilous advance, they leap.

Exeunt Fellowship.

Scene 29 act ix -
Khazad-Dum, a Bridge.

Enter Gandalf*

Balrog: ROAR

Frodo: Gandalf!

**Gandalf:**I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor! The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udun! Arrghh! Get thee back to the shadow!! THOU SHALL NOT PASS!!!

Gandalf shatters bridge, Balrog falls

Balrog ROAR, whippity whippity snap.

Exeunt Balrog

Gandalf:
It has befallen as yet must I.
Run you fools, alas, parting is such sweet sorrow.

Exeunt Gandalf.

**Frodo:**GANDALF!

Exeunt Remainder of Fellowship

Scene 30 act i -
A rocky hillside.

**Aragorn:**Tarry not good hobbit, for we must away.

**Boromir:**The sake of pity on your merciless head, Master Aragorn.
The little ones have need of rest.

**Aragorn:**Master Boromir, time is fleeting. Grief is a melancholy sweet , but such mercy would see you riddled with arrows.
Yonder hills will awaken in a pestilence most foul, 'ere night falls. We go henceforth to Lorien.
Ho, Legolas.

Exeunt all.

Scene 31 act ii -
The forest

**Gimli:**Young hobbits, attend me fast. Mystery attends this wood, a mighty sorceress wreathed in malice.
Look not into her eyes, lest thee be bewitched.
But fear lightly - my footfall is as silent as light, and the gaudy fops will never find us hence -

Enter Elfin.

**Haldir:**What ho Master Dwarf. Your stench bears the vileness of an unkempt privy, and your footfalls are like as to awaken even the most dead of corpses.

**Gimli:**Bah!

abridged - gift giving scene accredited to John Marlowe

Scene 47 act ii -
Upon a boat

**Gimli:**If visions be the food of love, dream on.
In that suffering surfeit of it, I may sicken and so die.
Three fine hairs of her head, did she gift to me, 'ere I asked for but one.
My lady is most fair, and I shall love no other.

**Legolas:**Henceforth wear yellow stockings, cross gartered, for Galadriel will surely find that most becoming.

Legolas smiles.

Scene 47 act iii
Upon a shore.

Legolas frowns.
Aragorn: What concerns you, Master Legolas?

Legolas: I feel toil, and I smell trouble, something hunts us, footsteps double.

Meriadoc: Has anyone seen Frodo?

Samwise: Master Frodo!!

Scene 47 act iv
In the woods. Frodo is alone.

Enter Boromir, gathering wood.

Boromir What-ho, Master Frodo.

Frodo What-ho, yourself.

Boromir The hour is late. I feel the weight you bear, little one…

Frodo Stay your tongue, for I know what you would say, and yea’ though it may sound the most wisest truth, my heart tells me it would not be so.

**Boromir:**Young Master, are you mad, or what is this?
That you keep the hope of us all,
without any mitigation nor remorse of choice?
Dear Frodo, I must be round with you.
My liege would bade me tell you that though we would harbour you as a kinsman, it is as nothing to the threat of Mordor.
If, and it would please you to do so,
You will give me that ring.

Frodo: I bid you Farewell!

Exeunt Frodo.

617

“Frodo looked sharply round, saw the ring, smelt to his hand, and cried, ‘Gollum, you have debauched my finger.’”
– Patrick O’Brian, ‘H.M.S. Sauron’,
(with apologies to a certain sloth…)

618

(One of mine, reposted from another forum.)

Of LotR as an “Audience Participation” event, in the style of Ye Olde Proclamation…

That Which Has Not yet Come to Pass - (but probably will…)
When all have been released, yea’ there shall come forth a great “Screening”, and all who attend shalle sitte for nine hours - nine, for the Fellowship - to watche the whole thing righte through to the very tiny credits at the ende.

All shalle wear a dress fancie or somesuch and many times those who come as elves shalle be told to “sitte downe more”, by the unfortunate who came as dwarves or hobbits, that have the cinema seats behinde.

And the one hundred and fifty nine people who comme as Gandalf the Grey wille be asked to remove their hats. They will be expected to arrive at their seats precisely when they mean to, on the strict understanding that this is on time, and never late.

All shall be expected to quote the correct lines of elf-speak, and all shall go “oooh” at the fireworks, cry “Gandalf!”, “Preciouss”, “Come and Claim Him”, “Master Frodo!”, “Speak Friend and Enter”, and humme merry songs of Roads going ever onne and onne and so-on and so-forth, at appropriate points during the course of the screening.

Whenne a scene of Orc presentness occurs, all may wave little light-sticks that glow in a blue fashion.

No firing of arrows is permitted at any stage, especially not at the screen, or at personnages who come dressed as Boromir.

Atte the intermission, forty two of the Gandalfs (who came better prepared) may retire to the reste-room to change into appropriate garments of white.

Whenever the Riders (Rohan or Wraith) set forthe, a livelie accompaniment on coconut half-shell is encouraged. (refere to Monty Python and the Holy Graile for further instruction in this matter.)

When the banner of the king is unfurled, all shall cheere mightily, save for those who come ringed as Wraiths, Orcs, Uruk-hai, or Sauron. These may be permitted to boo quietly.

Management rules:

No smoking of pipeweeds is permitted in the theatre.
No throwing of Palantirs, no releasing of insects.
No casting of rings, biting of fingers, or eating of smelly fish.
Slinking, Stinking, Sneaking and Swooning to be kept to a minimum, and no Tossing at all.

Blowing of the Horn of Gondor is permitted, but only where appropriate.

At all other times it must be kept switched off, until such a time as the owner is no longer inside the theatre.

~Tblue.

619

GREAT EVERYONE, and HAPPY NEW YEAR! Hey, how about a New Years Address (late) by Sauron or Saruman?

620

Chapter One: My Uncle Makes a Great Discovery

Looking back to all that has occured to me since that eventful day, I am scarcely able to believe in the reality of my adventures. They were truly so wonderful that even now I am bewildered when I think of them.
My uncle was a Baggins, and my mother, a Brandybuck. Being very much attached to his fatherless nephew, he invited me to study under him in his home at Bag-End. THis home was in a large town, and my uncle a professor of philosophy, chemistry, geology, minerology, and many other ologies.
One day, after passing some hours in the library-- my uncle being absent at the time-- I suddenly felt the necessity of renovating the tissues-- i.e., I was hungry, and was about to rouse up our old Gaffer, when my uncle, Bilbo Baggins, suddenly opened the street door, and came rushing upstairs.
Now Bilbo, my worthy uncle, is by no means a bad sort of hobbit; he is, however, choleric and original. To bear with him means to obey; and scarcely had his hairy feet resounded within our joint domicile than he shouted for me to attend him.
“Frodo-- Frodo-- Frodo–”
I hastened to obey, but before I could reach his room, jumping three steps at a time, he was stamping his right foot upon the landing.
“Frodo!” he cried, in a frantic tone, “are you coming up?”
Now to tell the truth, at that moment I was far more interested in the question as to what was to constitute our dinner than in any problem of science; to me soup was far more interesting than soda, an omelette more tempting than arithmetic, and an artichoke of ten times more value than any amount of asbestos.

621

This is, I deem, rather grose…but anyways:

Shania Twain: That don’t impress me much, the Middle-earth remix

I’ve known a few wraiths who thougth they were pretty bad
But I guess you take the price when it comes to that
You think you’re a With King, you drive me up the wall
You’re a regular original scare-’em-all

Oh-oh you think you’re special
Oh-oh you think you’re something else

So you are one of the Nine
That don’t impress me much
I think you’re cool, but have you got the touch
Now don’t get me worng, living death is all rigth
But it can’t keep me warm in the middle-earth nigths
That don’t impress me much

You’re one of those guys who likes to draw out his sword
Claiming by rigth of birth that you’re Gondors High Lord
I can’t believe you kiss that blade goodnigth
Come on baby tell me you must be joking, rigth?

Oh-oh you think you’re special
Oh-oh you think you’re something else

So you’ve got Narsil reforged
That don’t impress me much
I think you’re cool, but have you got the touch
Now don’t get me wrong, being king is all rigth
But that won’t keep me warm in the Middle-earth nigths
That don’t impress me much

I never knew a halfling who carried the One Ring in his pocket
And the on a chain –just in case
I guess you’re just to damn well scared that you may go drop it
’cause Eru forbid it should land the wrong place

Oh-oh you think you’re special
Oh-oh you think you’re something else

So you’re the Ringbearer
That don’t impress me much
I think you’re cool, but have you got the touch
Now don’t get me wrong, small-size men are all rigth
But that won’t keep me warm in the long, cold lonely nigths
That don’t impress me much

(dumdidumdidum etc.)

Waddaya think you’re Sauron or something?
That don’t impress me muuuuuch…