If LotR Had Been Written By Someone Else!?

Cafe Society
,
682

Tolkien’s books biased

I’ve managed to keep my silence for the past thousand years, but given the latest round of ‘Tolkienism’ due to the deplorable movies, I felt it was time to speak up and defend my honor.

When I forged the one ring, it was never meant to serve as a means of absolute rule. Rather it was to allow the kings who wore the other nine to be able to call upon my wisdom more freely. My intent has always been to bring all races together under the common banner of peace and prosperity. Why have the presence of constant racial tension and war? With the guidance I was offering, Middle Earth would see an end to strife and conflict.

Of course, there were certain factions that did not (and do not now) want peace. They conspired against me, trapping me and ultimately inflicting grevious harm upon me. They stole the ring and vowed to use its power for their own lust for grandeur and power. I have spent a very long time searching for that ring only to discover it in the hands of a small fellow named Baggins.

Yes, I did order the nine to find the ring and bring it to me. Yes, there were casualites and injuries along the way. But the hobbits brought it upon themselves. Had they turned over the ring instead of running off to the elves and later, a ragtag band of adventurers. there would have been no bloodshed.

Can people see that I really mean well? My intentions have always been to allow prosperity by joining everyone under one ruler. Just think about it. No more wars or petty squabbles. No more breaking your backs on a daily basis to eek out a minor existence. With one ruler, he can take care of you…

Respectfully yours,
Sauron

683

Yo yo yo–any homies out there up for Sir Quest-A-Lot?
Yeah, this is one. WEIRD. song. (Who knew all these characters had a foot fetish?) But enjoy!

Hobbits Got Feet

*[Enter Haldir and Arwen, having girltalk. They stare at Frodo.]*

Haldir:
Oh my god, Arwen, look at his feet…
They are SO big.
He looks like one of those… Fellowship hobbits.
But who understands those Fellowship guys?
They only talk to him because he looks like a total halfling, okay?
[Backbeat starts]
I mean… his feet.
They’re just so big…
I can’t believe they’re so huge—
They’re just out there…
I mean, it’s gross!
He’s just so… HAIRY!

*[Enter Aragorn, Boromir, Legolas, Gimli (with the hobbits as backup dancers)]*

Aragorn:
I like big FEET and I cannot lie,
You other brothers can’t deny
When a hobbit walks in with an itty bitty ring
Yeah, the kind with the real bling-bling
You just know—
You’re gonna halfta go
Gotta fight that Sauron moFO—
I holler back to my brothers bout questing,
Looks like there just ain’t time for resting,
OH BABY, they call me a ranger
Yeah, I’m set for danger!
My homeboys dig feet too, ya’ll
And unlike some elves we don’t
Like feet too small!
Ooh—bring along the One Ring,
You say ya will destroy that thing—
Well choose me, use me, cuz ya have my sword so don’t lose me!

I’ve seen them questin’
The hell with protestin’
We’ll rip—this trip—get it goin’ like a Balrog’s whip.

I’m tired of all them elves
Likin’ small feet for themselves—
Take the average human and he’ll repeat:
He gotta have big feet! SO
Fellas!

Boromir, Gimli, and Legolas: Yeah!

Aragorn:
Fellas!

Boromir, Gimli, and Legolas: Yeah!

Aragorn:
Have those halflings got the toes?

Boromir, Gimli, and Legolas: Hell yeah!

Aragorn:
Well, flaunt um, cruise um, jog um, use um, SHOW those hairy toes—
Hobbits got feet.

*[Instrumental Break]*

Boromir:
I like those feet real big
I’ll come along on this gig—
I just can’t help myself
I’m actin’ like an animal
Now here’s my scandal:

I wanna get that ring
And go—go-back-home—go!
Yeah, I’m talkin’ bout Gondor
Cuz down there things are lookin’ like war!
I wanna take Isildur’s Bane back,
Just steal that ring on the double—
Boromir’s in trouble
Don’t want my home to be rubble!
So I’m thinkin’ bout dreams that-I’ve-had,
Hearin’ these voices prophecyin’ bad—
Can’t ignore it no more,
The evil’s comin’ from Mordor.
A word to my Gondor homeboys,
We gotta face the noise,
War’s our only choice!
And I gotta be straight when I say we gotta fight
Til a new age DAWNS!
And with the One-Ring on
We could change the tune of this song.
Cuz those orcs, once they see it they’ll flee it—
And we’ll get to stay and play.
Cuz we’re men! And we’re in!
We’ll be rulin’ Middle Earth again!
So Frodo!

Frodo: Yeah?

Boromir: Frodo!

Frodo: Yeah?

Boromir: Just give me the ring and you can go-go!

Frodo: No!

Boromir:
Then I curse you!
Curse you all!
I’ll just think of how your feet aren’t small,
Hobbits got feet.

*[Short music break]*

Gimli (talking):
Yeah baby…
When it comes to hobbits…
The Shire ain’t got nothin’ on MY Fellowship.
Feet 15 by 5 inches? Heh heh.
Only if they’re 3’2”.

Legolas:
Othah elves, they see a star when
They behold the face of Arwen,
But Arwen ain’t got her feet so well evolved (read Darwin!)!
This elf guy, he won’t go unless you got TOES, YO!
You can do pedicures or scrubbings, but please don’t lose those feet!
Some brothers just can’t stand the smell, so
They tell you that the feet need to go—
So they toss um, and leave um,
And I breeze right in to retrieve um!
So Galadriel says they’re fat,
Well I ain’t down with that!
Cuz your ankles are small and your feet are kickin’
And I’m thinkin’ bout stickin’
To this mission-quest-thing, to destroy this ring,
Cuz it just ain’t right, That Thang!
Just send the halflings—they ain’t so baffling
Cute prizes at Elrond’s raffling!

Aragorn:
That knucklehead tried to dis
Cuz these hobbits weren’t on his list!
But I laid down my life to protect um,
Cuz those feet—they just make be respect um.

Boromir:
So hobbits, if you bring the ring—

Legolas:
And your feet are bout the size they call King—

Gimli:
Dial 1-900-Fellowship, and we’ll get right on this trip!

Aragorn:
Hobbits got feet.

All:
If yer smallah, give a hollah if you got big feet…
If yer smallah, give a hollah if you got big feet…
*[Repeat and Fade]*
684

Well, I tried to think of an original one, so hopefully it is :slight_smile:

The One Ring, by Nathaniel Hawthorne

In front of a grassy-mound, in the shire, stood a bearded man, in solomn-coloured garments and a gray steeple-crowned hat stood with his eyes intently fastened on the oaken door, for he was the wizard, Gandalf. The wooden edifice, by a strange chance, had been coloured by way of paint or some other form of dye a shade of green, long after the fall of the gigantic pines and oaks that the hue and sprung up around, whether it being of personal or cultural taste, we shall not take upon us to determine. Finding it so directly on the threshold of our narrative, which is now about to issue from that inauspicious portal, we could hardly do otherwise than to view the object held in by the might of the former foliage. It may serve, let us hope, to symbolise the wild and evils in this world, which hath spring forth from the land from where such a colour exists in abundance; as some moral lesson that may be found along the track, or relieve the darkening close of a tale of hobbit and human frailty and sorrow.

The bearded one took a hold of his staff and tapped this cage to the fate of Middle-Earth. “Good Sir,” said a hard-hearted hobbit of considerable age, “I’ll tell ye a piece of my mind. It would be greatly for the public behoof if you sir, being of sound mind and body, would take your leave of this shire, I being a God-fearing gentleman.” “Mercy on me, old friend,” exclaimed the wizard. To an answer of his plea, the great gate parted to reveal a hobbit of stout proportions and manner. A curious delight painted itself across his features, like a dove gliding swiftly over them, and making one little pause. His face beamed with some powerful emotion, which, nevertheless, he so instantaneously controlled by an effort of his will, that, save at a single moment, its expression might have passed for calmness. After a brief space, the convulsion grew almost imperceptible, which he acted upon intensely.

“Gandalf! The sight of you gladdens my heart!” cried Bilbo, for that was the name of this particular hobbit. In a spit of enthusiasm, the unlikely duo met in an embrace. “Bilbo Bagens, though the time between or encounters has distanced quite too far, you appearance has remained constant and unchanged,” said Gandalf. The sight of this Bilbo having looked has he did in the days of they’re adventures had concerned Gandalf, for he might have been kept alive by some magic, oblivious to the true nature of this magic being that of the ONE RING, so fantastically engraved and shimmered upon his bosom. It having now affects his, weighing his heart and polluting his soul.

685

Epigramcracker: That is wrong. Brilliant, but wrong.

Awhile back someone requested a Nora Roberts version, so here it is.

Two excerpts from Destroying the Ring, the thrilling third installment in Nora Roberts’ #1 bestselling saga of fantasy romance novels. Also read Finding the Ring and Bearing the Ring…

…The night was black, blacker than any night Merry could remember. The young hobbit felt a sick horror rise within him at the sight of the evil winged shadow rising above the battle plain. All were dead, all, or they had fled in terror!

The king was dead.

He saw again in his mind how Theoden’s horse had fallen, trapping the king helplessly beneath the body of the great animal. Merry relived the moment the hidious flying creature had landed upon the horse, its claws digging into flesh. And he despaired.

A voice in his mind cried, You swore to fight for him! He was like a father to you! But his conscience could not overcome the blind fear that was swiftly overtaking him.

Then, out of the blackness of the night came a voice, a voice he could not quite recognize. A voice he did not expect.

“Go away, you disgusting creature! Leave him in peace!”

The Lord of the Nazgul answered, his voice chilling Merry to the bone. “Move! Or I will kill you where you stand! Or perhaps I will take you to Sauron. He will devour your body, and torture your mind!”

Merry heard the ringing of a sword being drawn. “Go ahead! Try to get to him! You’ll have to get through me!”

“Ha! You fool, you think you can try to stop me? No living man can stop me!”

The cowering hobbit then heard the strange, clear sound of laughter echoing out over the battle plain. “But I’m not a man! You’re looking at a woman, a red-blooded Rohan woman. Eowyn is my name, and my father was the great warrior Eomund. Get out of here, now! I swear to God, if you so much as touch him, I will kill you!”…
…It was good just to be alive.

Faramir felt the sun on his back as he wandered through the garden. He could almost feel the blood flowing vigorously through his veins, and it was a good feeling. But he instantly felt guilty, too, that he was here safe in Gondor, while others were risking their lives elsewhere. He glanced eastward towards the horizon.

“My Lord Faramir.” The voice of the Warden startled him, and he turned around. And saw her.

Later, when he could think clearly, he would decide it had been like having a battering ram plowed into his chest. Not stopping his heart, but jump-starting it. His heart, his blood, his loins, his brain.

She wasn’t beautiful, not in any classic sense. What she was, was spectacular.

Her hair was corn gold, a long mane that flowed down over her shoulders. Her skin was creamy white, and her features were sharply drawn - the narrow, aristocratic nose, the high cheekbones, the delicate yet somehow strong jawline. She was perfect. Striking, sexy, superb.

Yet somehow, somewhere beneath her exquisite exterior, Faramir sensed an unbelievable amount of anguish. She was vulnerable, incredibly vulnerable - someone had hurt her, badly. His first thought was to enfold her in his arms, to take that hurt away.

“My lord,” said the Warden. Faramir shook his head, trying to wake himself from the reverie. “This is Lady Eowyn of Rohan. She was badly wounded in the battle of Pelennor Fields, and has been recuperating here. I’ve tried to keep her quiet, but she isn’t happy here and insists on speaking with you.”

“Oh, don’t minsunderstand me, my lord,” she said bitterly. “This is a great hospital, and I’m sure that it provides excellent care for those who want to be healed. But I can’t stand being caged up here! Not while the war is still being fought.”

Faramir waved the Warden away, and turned to face her, taking her hand in his. He thought he would drown in the sorrow in her eyes. “What do you want me to do, my lady? I’m a prisoner here, same as you.”

Eowyn saw the tenderness in his eyes, and she felt her heart flutter in response. Despite his sensitivity, she could feel the strength in his grasp, and she knew that here was a man who could match any of her countrymen in battle. If those powerful arms were around her, could he remove the darkness?..

I’ve tried my best to emulate Nora Roberts’ style…it strikes me now that this also reads a bit like the crappy novelization of the Lord of the Rings movie (if such a thing were to be written, God forbid).

686

BLING BLING! :cool:

(hehe. thanks!)

687

Middle-Earth under the True King, not Sauron!

Re: Mr. Sauron’s letter to the editor

The recent letter of Mr. Sauron seemed to imply that he in effect holds the right to claim sovereignty over this Middle-Earth. However, it is my duty as the keeper of the library of the records of Gondor here in Minas Tirith, capital of the restored joint kingdoms of Arnor and Gondor, to set the matter straight by pointing out that, in fact, this is not the case. Mr. Sauron does not hold rightful overlordship over Middle-Earth, nor has he ever had such a right.

The overlordship of the Númenórean line of Kings over the peoples of this Middle-Earth cannot be disputed, as the line was established by the Valar themselves upon the founding of Númenor nearly 6500 years before the so-called War of the Ring. This Eru-given right is further (though unnecessarily) underscored by the fact that the Númenóreans are the direct descendants of the Edain; those Houses of Men in the First Age who were loyal to the Valar, Rulers of Arda, and thus to Eru Himself.

In fact, numerous studies have shown that the wars and disturbances upon Middle-Earth have nearly always been the result of Mr. Sauron’s instigation. He is seen to have incessantly urged the non-Númenórean peoples of Middle-Earth to wage war upon their rightful rulers.

Therefore I must conclude by saying that the events of the War of the Ring as translated by Mr. Tolkien from records left by the Hobbits are accurate, and that if there is a bias in them it is surely a bias towards the recorders, ie. the Hobbits, rather than against Mr. Sauron.

Bereg
(Keeper of the King’s Records, Minas Tirith, Gondor)

688

Well done, Saxamaphone! Having just read Seven Gables, I contemplated a Hawthorne version myself. Yours is excellent. (Which work were you basing yours on, or just Hawthorne in general?)

689

JD Salingers Catcher in the Shire

Goodbye Gandalf’ I said, hoping to leave before he attempted to change me.
‘lifes a game Houlden Baggins, play by the rules…good luck’
‘I hate that phrase’
Man he was a phonie, a totally phonie, unaware and uninvolved. He drove me crazy. All he ever cared about was that stupid ring.
I decided to give ol’ Sam a ring, he understood, well at least i think he did. He could be a phonie too, especially when he was with Rosie. She drove me crazy.

‘how’d your date with rosie go’
I’d known Rosie a few years before she’d met Sam
‘yeh not bad, i might sleep with her’
Man i loathed him, he didn’t even know her, you dont just sleep with a beautifal girl if you dont know her’
I tried to punch him, but he was too strong and he wrestled me to the ground.
‘Your odd Houlden Baggins’
‘I decided to leave earlier, having been evicted from the Shire. I had nothing to stay for, besides I’d seen Gandalf’

I decided to go on ‘vacation’ to New Rivendell. I thought I’d lie low before i had to face Bilbos wrath. He gave me the stupid ring, i never even wanted it, and now everytime i see him he goes mad, man he kills me.
I arrived late and just sat watching the waterfall falling under the stars, I was almost happy. Some elf behind me kept saying
‘You know what that is, thats perfection’
Man he killed me. I had to leave.

690

Thanks Puck :slight_smile: It was mostly based on The Scarlet Letter, but I was going after an overall Hawthorne feel.

691

(I haven’t read all these posts (yet), so I don’t know if this has been done.)

David Letterman: Wake the kids, call the neighbors, it’s time for tonight’s Top Ten list. Tonight’s list is “The Top Ten Reasons to Throw The One Ring Into The Fires Of Mount Doom.”

(Paul Schaeffer and band play opening lines of “Ring of Fire” by Johnny Cash)

(Dave stares blankly at camera for a minute, then):: Hee hee. Here we go. The Top Ten Reasons to Throw The One Ring Into The Fires Of Mount Doom. Reason Number Ten…

(he pauses)

Ya know, Paul, I wonder if The One Ring would float?

(Paul is caught off-guard, but replies) Well, Dave, we know that Smeagol found it at the bottom of a river, so it must not float. Then again, we also know it can change its size and its weight, so one could assume that it could make itself very large but light so that it would be less dense than water and would thereby float.

(Dave stares blankly at Paul for a minute, then says): So you’re saying you don’t know.

Paul: I have no idea.

Dave: Well, let’s get this over with. Once again, if you’re scoring at home, these are The Top Ten Reasons to Throw The One Ring Into The Fires Of Mount Doom.

Number 10: Two words—Dwarf Tossing!

Number 9: because chicks dig a guy who’s been on a quest

Number 8: For the Shire!

(Paul echoes loudly) For the Shire!

Dave: Hee hee. What does that mean? I don’t even know what that means. I should start coming to rehearsals. (sighs dramatically)

Number 7: That Legolas—he’s elf-tastic!

Number 6: Because Sauron is really the president of CBS.

Number 5: So that after the world is saved I can introduce Bilbo and Frodo to Yoko Ono. “Bilbo, Yoko. Yoko, Bilbo. Yoko, Frodo. Frodo, Yoko.”

Number 4: So we can film it and make gobs of money.

Number 3: To see if it floats.

(turns to Paul): Now that’s funny, because we were just discussing that a few minutes ago.

Paul: That’s right, we were. Just a moment ago, right here, we were discussing whether or not The One Ring would float…

Dave: And what did we decide? I wasn’t paying attention.

(Paul laughs, says nothing)

Dave: Once again the category is Top Ten Reasons to Throw The One Ring Into The Fires Of Mount Doom.

Reason Number 2: To win the affection of Galadriel. She’s the “Lady of the Wood” –if you know what I mean.

(Dave looks to Paul): Do you know what I mean, Paul?

Paul: Uh, you mean she lives in a forest, right?

(Dave ignores him and continues with the list)

And the Number One Reason to Throw The One Ring Into The Fires Of Mount Doom: That whole “triumph of good over evil” thing.

Ok, we’re going to take a commercial break. When we come back we’re going to play, Know Your Rings of Power.

(band plays “Ring of Fire” – fade to commercial)

692

“Howl”
for Samwise Gamgee

I saw the best Men of my generation destroyed by the one ring, raving hysterical faded
Dragging themselves through the mordor shale at dawn looking for an angry Eye,
Angelheaded nazgul burning for the ancient heavenly connection to isengard’s dynamo in the machinery of night,
Who comfort and mithrilcoats and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking pipeweed in the subterranean coziness of hobbit-holes floating across the tops of cities contemplating songs,
Who bared their brains to Sauron under the Palantir and saw Osgiliath angels staggering on fortress roofs illuminated,
Who passed through wizardschools with radiant cool eyes hallucinating Rivendell and Bombadil-light tragedy among the scholars of war,
Who were expelled from Rohan for crazy & raising obscene armies on the foothills of the Mark,
Who cowered in dead marshes in elvencloaks, cooking their coneys in hobbitpots and listening to the Precious through the falls,
…
What sphinx of iron and steel bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?
Sauron! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable Precious! Hobbits screaming under the stairways! Orcs sobbing in armies! Old Men weeping in the fields!
Sauron! Sauron! Nightmare of Sauron! Sauron the loveless! Mental Sauron! Sauron the heavy judger of Men!
Sauron the incomprehensible prison! Sauron the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Council of sorrows! Sauron whose buildings are judgement! Sauron the vast Eye of war! Sauron the stunned Stewards!
Sauron whose mind is pure machinery! Sauron whose blood is running metal! Sauron whose fingers are ten armies! Sauron whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Sauron whose ear is a smoking tomb!

…and so on. Part II sorta writes itself.

-Ulterior, with apologies to Allen Ginsberg.

693

Haven’t seen Robert Burns yet:
Wee timid, hungry, half-grown hobbit,
Living in hole like ony rabbit,
Ye need not gang, ‘gainst a’ thy habit,
Near Auld Mon Willow
Where’er ye next come to the road,
The Ringwraiths follow.

And go not nigh the wight in barrow
Thy courage sma’ his touch will harrow
But get thee on to Bree tomorrow
And meet with Strider
His wisdom may suffice to hide thee
From yon Black Rider

I doubt not, Weathertop may give
Thee cause to doubt, but thou maun live!
To Rivendell, to council grave
Thy errand goes.
And onward, to the Mount of Doom,
Through hosts of foes.

Let Isengard by Ents by ruined.
And Fellowship can find its truants,
Ye must awa’ to Orodruin
Wi’ Sam alane
Though Gollum lead you false, and Orcs
Pursue in vain.

Sauron’s might thou’lt break again
Better than did Isildur then
The best laid plans of Maia and man
Gang aft agley.
But Aragorn and sweet Arwen
Shall wed in joy!

Still thou art curst, who bore the Ring
To find no joy in any thing
So seek the Havens grey, and sing
Earendil’s song
To Elvenhome across the sea
The way is long.

694

Laughter stimulates the immune system. This thread beats echinacea hands down.

695

An entry in the Free On-line Dictionary of Computing:

Rings of Power
<magic, jewlery> Tools used by Sauron during the Second and Third Ages in an attempt to gain ultimate power over Middle Earth.

See also Aragorn, Baggins, Bilbo, Baggins, Frodo, Elrond, Fellowship of the Ring, Galadriel, Gandalf, Gimli, Gollum/Smeagol, Isildur, Legolas, War of the Ring, and many others.

(1761-03-06 <S.R.>)

Try this search on OneLook/Google

Nearby terms: Brown, Radagast the « Redhorn Gate « Riddermark « Rings of Power » Ringwraiths » Rivendell » Rohan

696

Magic: the Gathering

The One Ring
(8)
Artifact

When The One Ring comes into play, sacrifice a Hobbit or place The One Ring in your opponent’s library.

(1) --> Target creature gains phasing until end of turn.

The One Ring does not untap during your untap phase.

Sacrifice an Elf to untap The One Ring.

If game ends with The One Ring still in play and controlled by you, sacrifice Soul and become a wraith.

697

Good one, jayjay!

Anyone wanna try a Yes, Minister version?

698

Heh…thanks, Michael.

As an adjunct to my Magic card above…

Sammath Naur

Land

–> Add one red mana and one black mana to your mana pool.

Sacrifice Sammath Naur to destroy The One Ring.

699

As written by Michael Moorcock: End of Return of the King.

Frodo then took the One Ring himself and slipped it upon his finger. A crazed and hellish look came upon his face as he gazed upon Sam.
“Mr. Frodo, destroy the ring!”
“Never you sad fool! I have the power I need, almost. If you would stand against me I will strike you low as well.”
“All right, Mr. Frodo, it pains me to say it but, if you think you must
slay me if you will.”
Frodo drew Sting which had become black and rune-covered.
Sting howled in hunger as Frodo plunged it into Sam’s chest.
“Sweet God! The pain!” Sam cried before slumping forward.
Removing the blade from Sam’s body the blade turned on Frodo and ran him through.
“Sting!” he breathed before feeling his soul slip from his mortal
frame.
Gollum sprang forth from the darkness and let out a small
cry as Sting impaled him as well.
Sting’s from twisted into a dark and hellish shape, vaguely
resembling that of a man.
Plucking the One Ring from Frodo’s finger the beast cast a glance
toward Minas Morgul and the heart of a Sauron’s realm and laughed.
“I was thousand times more evil than thou!” it said and flew off into the night with it’s new found prize.

700

Re: Bereg’s Fanciful Notions as Printed in the Biased Record

It is with no small sense if dissatisfaction that I read Mr. Bereg’s response to my just and righteous claims. While I balk at using the term “libel” to describe portions of his account, as the old epoch goes: if the shoe fits…

The so-called “overlordship of the Númenórean line of Kings” in Middle Earth was nothing more than a self-gratifying exercise in overweening pride and nationalism merged with equally questionable practices of colonialism. I should point out that Númenor had no dominion in Middle Earth, the Númenóreans having been granted a charter by the Valar to their own great island kingdom far to the West of Middle Earth. I should also point out that my previous employer, one Melkor Morgoth – a Vala himself – had already staked a legal claim of dominion over Middle Earth as it was uninhabited prior to his arrival. Also, in direct opposition to Bereg’s claims, it was not I who instigated war with Númenor, but rather the elves who instigated trouble by trespassing on Morgoth’s dominion claiming they were “seeking recompense for lost property” or somesuch nonsense.

Even if their outrageous claims were true, I was not even involved, being only a minority stockholder in Morgoth’s holdings at the time and not responsible for any of his maverick business practices. Númenor, regrettably, was brought into the affair at the request of these same elves, who, after successfully lobbying the Valar to have Mr. Morgoth evicted, brought their grievances to my doorstep in Mordor while squatting on my former employer’s lands – which, incidentally, by legal right passed to me, as I was the sole remaining senior officer of the company after Morgoth’s humiliating removal.

In what I feel was an incredibly gracious gesture on my part, I welcomed the Númenórean delegation, despite their obvious intentions of attempting a hostile takeover of my holdings, and even served the Númenórean king and his descendants as a state adviser for years thereafter without pay. When the Númenórean enterprise foundered some years later after an unsuccessful attempt at a hostile takeover of the Valar (or, as I like to put it, the arrogant twits finally got too big for their britches and reaped what they’d sewn), it was they who, with the assistance of those same miserable, troublemaking squatter elves, instigated war against me when I attempted to pick up the pieces and get the company going again! This, of course, is where the usage of the rings came into it – a misunderstood stroke of genius on my part. Eru forbid they allow me to help them! Oh, no! And this after wrongful termination from the service of the king and the irreplaceable casualty of my corporeal body! Enough was enough, people, of course I was going to fight back!

The wars and disturbances upon Middle-Earth have, in fact, Mr. Bereg, nearly always been the result of the elves’ instigation. They have incessantly urged the Númenórean and non-Númenórean peoples of Middle-Earth to wage war upon its rightful ruler, namely me. Do you do your own research? Or are all men of Gondor so short-sighted? Unequivocally, the events of the War of the Ring as translated by Mr. Tolkien from records left by the Hobbits are inaccurate and biased. I should sue the lot of you for slander, let alone damages.

Mr. Sauron
President/CEO, Mordor, Inc.

701

Hello! I decided I’d better register to post a contribution to this great thread! :slight_smile:

Full Mithril Jacket

(excerpted from the screenplay by J.R.R. Kubrick) :wink:

INT. RIVENDELL – DAY

Fellowship recruits stand at attention in front of their packs.

Master Wizardry Sergeant GANDALF walks along the line of blank-faced recruits.

GANDALF: I am Gunnery Sergeant Gandalf, your Senior Ring Instructor. From now on, you will speak only when spoken to, and the first and last words out of your filthy sewers will be “Sir!” Do you maggots understand that?

FELLOWSHIP (in unison): Sir, yes, sir!

GANDALF: Orcshit! I can’t hear you. Sound off like you got a pair.

FELLOWSHIP (louder): Sir, yes, sir!

GANDALF: If you ladies leave Rivendell, if you survive recruit training … you will be a weapon, you will be a minister of death, praying for war. But until that day you are pukes! You’re the lowest form of life on Middle Earth. You are not even pint-sized gollums! You are nothing but unorganized grabasstic pieces of warg shit! Because I am hard, you will not like me. But the more you hate me, the more you will learn. I am hard, but I am fair! There is no racial bigotry here! I do not look down on hobbits, humans, stunties, or pointed-eared fairies. Here you are all equally worthless! And my orders are to weed out all non-hackers who do not pack the gear to serve in my beloved Fellowship! Do you maggots understand that?

RECRUITS (in unison): Sir, yes, sir!

GANDALF: Orcshit! I can’t hear you!

RECRUITS: (louder): Sir, yes, sir!

Sergeant GANDALF stops in front of a short recruit, Private MERRY.

GANDALF: What’s your name, scumbag?

MERRY (shouting): Sir, Private Brandybuck, sir!

GANDALF: Bullshit! From now on you’re Private Merry! Do you like that name?

MERRY (shouting): Sir, yes, sir!

GANDALF: Well, there’s one thing that you won’t like, Private Merry! They don’t serve fried conies and lembas on a daily basis round my camp fire!

MERRY: Sir, yes, sir!

PIPPIN (whispering): Is that you, Voice of Sauron? Is this me?

GANDALF: Who said that? Who the fuck said that? Who’s the slimy little mordor-shit twinkle-toed elf-sucker down here, who just signed his own death warrant? Nobody, huh?! The fairy fucking olliphaunt said it! Out-fucking-standing! I will run you all until you fucking die! I’ll run you until your tail-pipes are sucking Old Toby.

Sergeant GANDALF grabs FRODO by the shirt.

GANDALF: Was it you, you scroungy little warg, huh?!

FRODO: Sir, no, sir!

GANDALF: You little piece of Orcshit! You look like a fucking goblin! I’ll bet it was you!

FRODO: Sir, no, sir!

PIPPIN: Sir, I said it, sir!

Sergeant GANDALF steps up to PIPPIN.

GANDALF: Well …no shit. What have we got here, a fucking comedian? Private Pippin? I admire your honesty. Hell, I like you. You can come over to my house and play with my staff.

Sergeant GANDALF purnches PIPPIN in the stomach. PIPPIN sags to his knees.

GANDALF: You little scumbag! I’ve got your name! I’ve got your ass! You will not laugh! You will not cry! You will learn by the numbers. I will teach you. Now get up! Get on your feet! You had best unfuck yourself or I will unscrew your head and shoot fireworks down your neck!

PIPPIN: Sir, yes, sir!

GANDALF: Private Pippin, why did you join my beloved Fellowship?

PIPPIN: Sir, to eat, sir!

GANDALF: So you’re an eater!

PIPPIN: Sir, yes, sir!

GANDALF: Let me hear your breakfast belch!

PIPPIN: Sir?

GANDALF: You’ve got a breakfast belch? Buuuuuuuurrrrrrrppp! That’s a breakfast belch. Now let me hear your breakfast belch!

PIPPIN: Buuuurrrp!

GANDALF: Orcshit! You didn’t convince me! Let me hear your real breakfast belch!

PIPPIN: Buuuuuuurrrrppp!

GANDALF: You didn’t scare me! Work on it!

PIPPIN: Sir, yes, sir!

Sergeant GANDALF speaks into Frodo’s face.

GANDALF: What have you done with it?

FRODO: Sir, done with what, sir?

GANDALF: I’m asking the fucking questions here, Private. Do you understand?!

FRODO: Sir, yes, sir!

GANDALF: Well thank you very much! Can I be in charge for a while?

FRODO: Sir, yes, sir!

GANDALF: Is it secret? Is it safe?

FRODO: Sir, yes, sir!

GANDALF: Do I make you nervous?

FRODO: Sir!

GANDALF: Sir, what? Were you about to call me an Nazgul?!

FRODO: Sir, no, sir!

GANDALF: How tall are you, Private?

FRODO: Sir, three foot nine, sir!

GANDALF: Three foot nine? I didn’t know they stacked warg shit that high! You trying to squeeze an inch in on me somewhere, huh?

FRODO: Sir, no, sir.

GANDALF: Orcshit! It looks to me like the best part of you ran down the cracks of doom! I think you’ve been cheated!

GANDALF: Where in hell are you from anyway, Private?

FRODO: Sir, The Shire, sir!

GANDALF: Holy Entshit! The Shire! Only beer and weed-smokers come from The Shire, Private Frodo! And you don’t look much like a beer to me, so that kinda narrows it down! Do you suck leaf!

FRODO: Sir, no, sir!

GANDALF: Are you a pipe-puffer?

FRODO: Sir, no, sir!

GANDALF: I’ll bet you’re the kind of hobbit that would smoke a person’s pipe and not even have the goddam common courtesy to give him a hit! I’ll be watching you!

Sergeant GANDALF walks down the line to another recruit, a tall, overtweight hobbit.

GANDALF: Did your parents have any children that lived?

GARDENER: Sir, yes, sir!

GANDALF: I’ll bet they regret that! You’re so ugly you could be a spider of Mirkwood! What’s your name, fatbody?

GARDENER: Sir, Samwise Gamgee, sir!

GANDALF: Samwise? Samwise, what, of Harad?

GARDENER: Sir, no, sir!

GANDALF: That name sounds like royalty! Are you royalty?

GARDENER: Sir, no, sir!

GANDALF: Do you suck leaf?

GARDENER: Sir, no, sir!

GANDALF: Orcshit! I’ll bet you could suck a goblin head through a garden hose!

GARDENER: Sir, no, sir!

GANDALF: I don’t like the name Samwise! Only Stoors and sailors are called Samwise! From now on you’re Gomer Gardener!

GARDENER: Sir, yes, sir!

GARDENER has the trace of a strange smile on his face.

GANDALF: Do you think I’m cute, Private Gardener? Do you think I’m funny?

GARDENER: Sir, no, sir!

GANDALF: Then wipe that disgusting grin off your face!

GARDENER: Sir, yes, sir!

GANDALF: Well, any fucking time, sweetheart!

GARDENER: Sir, I’m trying, sir.

GANDALF: Private Gardener, I’m gonna give you three seconds–excactly three fucking seconds–to wipe that stupid-looking grin off your face, or I will gouge out your eyeballs and turn you into something un-natural! One! Two! Three!

GARDENER purses his lips but continues to smile involuntarily.

GARDENER: Sir, I can’t help it, sir!

GANDALF: Orcshit! Get on your knees, scumbag!

Gardener gets down on his knees.

GANDALF:Now choke yourself!

Gardener places his hands around his throat as if to choke himself.

GANDALF: Goddamn it, with my beard, wargnuts!!

GARDENER reaches for GANDALF’s beard. GANDALF jerks it away.

GANDALF: Don’t pull my fucking beard over there! I said choke yourself! Now lean forward and choke yourself!

GARDENR leans forward so that his neck rests in GANDALF’s beard.

GANDALF chokes Gardener.

GARDENER gags and starts to turn red in the face.

GANDALF: Are you through grinning?

GARDERNER (barely able to speak): Sir, yes, sir!

GANDALF: Orcshit! I can’t hear you!

GARDENER (gasping): Sir, yes, sir!

GANDALF: Orcshit! I still can’t hear you! Sound offlike you got a pair!

GARDENER (gagging): Sir, yes, sir!

GANDALF: That’s enough! Get on your feet!

GANDALF releases Gardener’s throat form his beard. Gardener gets to his feet, breathing heavily.

GANDALF: Private Gardener, you had best square your ass away and start shitting me rings of power… or I will definitely turn you into something un-natural!

GARDENER: Sir, yes, sir!