If LotR Had Been Written By Someone Else!?

Cafe Society
,
742

SAMWISE:
Charming spot. (He turns, advances to front of building, halts facing bar.) Inspiring prospects. (He turns to Frodo.) Let’s go.
FRODO:
We can’t.
SAMWISE:
Why not?
FRODO:
We’re waiting for Gandalf.
SAMWISE:
(despairingly). Ah! (Pause.) You’re sure it was here?
FRODO:
What?
SAMWISE:
That we were to wait.
FRODO:
He said in the Prancing Pony. (They look at the tavern.) Do you see any others?
SAMWISE:
What is it?
FRODO:
I don’t know. A pub.
SAMWISE:
Where is the ale?
FRODO:
They must be out.
SAMWISE:
No more drinking.
FRODO:
Or perhaps it’s not the season.
SAMWISE:
Looks to me more like a bar.
FRODO:
A pub.
SAMWISE:
A bar.
FRODO:
A—. What are you insinuating? That we’ve come to the wrong place?
SAMWISE:
He should be here.
FRODO:
He didn’t say for sure he’d come.

SAMWISE:
And if he doesn’t come?
FRODO:
We’ll come back tomorrow.
SAMWISE:
And then the day after tomorrow.
FRODO:
Possibly.
SAMWISE:
And so on.
FRODO:
The point is—
SAMWISE:
Until the Ringwraiths show up.
FRODO:
You’re merciless.
SAMWISE:
We came here yesterday.
FRODO:
Ah no, there you’re mistaken.
SAMWISE:
What did we do yesterday?
FRODO:
What did we do yesterday?
SAMWISE:
Yes.
FRODO:
Why . . . (Angrily.) Nothing is certain when you’re about.
SAMWISE:
In my opinion we were here.
FRODO:
(looking round). You recognize the place?
SAMWISE:
I didn’t say that.
FRODO:
Well?
SAMWISE:
That makes no difference.
FRODO:
All the same . . . that pub . . . (turning towards Strider’s table) that ranger . . .
SAMWISE:
You’re sure it was this evening?
FRODO:
What?
SAMWISE:
That we were to wait.
FRODO:
He said Saturday. (Pause.) I think.
SAMWISE:
You think.
FRODO:
I must have made a note of it. (He fumbles in his pockets, taking out the Ring.)
SAMWISE:
(very insidious). But what Saturday? And is it Saturday? Is it not rather Sunday? (Pause.) Or Monday? (Pause.) Or Friday?
FRODO:
(looking wildly about him, as though the date was inscribed in the landscape). It’s not possible!
SAMWISE:
Or Thursday?
FRODO:
What’ll we do?
SAMWISE:
If he came yesterday and we weren’t here you may be sure he won’t come again today.
FRODO:
But you say we were here yesterday.
SAMWISE:
I may be mistaken. (Pause.) Go sing the long version of “Hey Diddle Diddle” fall under a table, and put your Ring on, do you mind?
FRODO:
(feebly). All right.

-an excerpt from “Waiting for Gandalf”, by Samuel (Samwise?) Beckett.

743 

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744

Wobin, that was classic! Excellent work…

745

From Douglas Adams: The Hitch-Hiker’s Guide to Middle Earths

746

LotR in the style of the Charlie Daniels Band

The Dark One went down to Hobbiton, he was looking for a ring to reclaim.
He was in a bind, ‘cause unless he could find, he was bad as a horse gone lame.
When he came across a hobbit blowin’ on a jug and playing it hot.
Well the Dark One jumped up on a mallorn stump, said, “Son let me tell you what:
I guess you didn’t know it, but I’m a jug player too,
Now if you care to make a dare, well I’ll make a bet with you.
Now you’re pretty good, Mr. Hobbit, but give ol’ Sauron what he’s lost,
I’ll take that ring of gold against my soul and I think I’ve got ya tossed.”

The hobbit said, “My name’s Frodo and it might take all I’m worth,
But I’ll accept, you Maiar adept, 'cause I’m the best in Middle-Earth.”

Frodo grease up your rim and blow your jug damn hard,
the gates of Mordor broke on loose and Sauron’s come this far.
If you win you’ll complete your quest and clear off Destiny’s loom,
But if you lose you cast the world into doom! Hey!

So the Dark One chucked out his jug and said, “Guess I’ll be first band.”
And fire raged 'round his eyes as he spun that jug in his hands.
When he blew crack’d lips ‘cross that rim, it made an evil groan.
Then a band of Nazgul joined in, beatin’ on drums of stone.

(fierce jug playing)

So Sauron finished, Frodo said, “Well you’re pretty good, Evil One.
But sit right there on your derriere, let me show you how it’s done!”

He played Fire in Mordor, Nazgul done flew.
Dark One’s in the house of Bilbo’s nephew.
Old Took sittin’ and smoking his pipe.
Stealing Maggot’s turnips, boy are they ripe.

So Sauron bowed his head 'cause he knew that Frodo had won.
Packed up his band and gave his soul to Drogo’s son.
And Frodo said, “Hey Sauron, come to the Shire if you ever want another go,
'cause I’ve told you once, you son of a gun, ain’t no one jug like Frodo.”

He played Fire in Mordor, Nazgul done flew.
Dark One’s in the house of Bilbo’s nephew.
Old Took sittin’ and smoking his pipe.
Stealing Maggot’s turnips, boy are they ripe.

747

Gandalf held him tight in his bulging biceps. This is where Frodo felt most at ease and this union was becoming commonplace between the two as they felt their white seering hot love for each other burning hotter than the depths of mordor

748

LOTR by Tom Robbins:

Galadriel gazed across the past the silver goblet and over the
reflective pool at Frodo’s rakish mess of hair, like razorwire made out
of soft rubber. She had never before been attracted to shorter men, but
the last night had opened her eyes to the perversities of the hobbit
world, a world not dominated by pussywhippery. Frodo had been the first
to violate the elvish taboo of sodomy and Galadriel felt so dirty.
Still, she was happy that it was such an efficient method of birth
control; if only elves could all engage in such practice, the onus of
birth control could change hands and truly empower the women.

The moon was full that night and upon gazing at it, Galadriel thought of
the pyramids that likely adorned its surface, giant, yet too small to
see from Middle Earth. Her mind strayed to Mithrilander, whom men call
Gandalf. Oh there were other names for Mithrilander; to the Numenorians
he had been Gandala. To the Westernesse he was Hathrol. Native South
Americans refered to him as Akawtlatl.

Later that night, when Galadriel and Frodo had retired to their
treehouse, silver pitcher said to mirrored pool, “Why is it that humans
are so oversexed?” Mirrored pool, who had been raised a catholic was in
a bit of a quandry and he/she really couldn’t respond. Of course One
Ring had gone about his business that day without saying much.

                       -Written for Amber S.

LOTR by David Sklansky:

Knowing when to release the one ring can be tricky. Yes, you can take the ring all the way to Mordor, but if
there is only a small chance of getting it to Mt. Doom, you are probably much better off mucking it in the river
(which is what Isildur, a notable professional, did originally). Knowing when to release a ring of power is
most important in the game. If there are only three ways to destroy the ring and there are forty seven ways to
deliver it directly to Sauron, then the mathematics speak for themselves. By avoiding the trip in the long run,
you are saving yourself a lot of destruction. Remeber also, that if you’re playing against a loose field, you’ll
have a lot more Nazgul chasing you to the river. Even if you’re ahead at this point, there is a good chance that
one of them will catch a lucky break and suck out on you. If you are going to make a go of it while holding the
ring of power (which is clearly the best thing to have at this point) you might want to try thinning the field a
little bit by letting your opponents know that you hold the ring and that they don’t have enough outs. Although
there will be less in it for you when you destroy your enemies, your EV will actually improve due to a
lessenning of the chances of somebody rivering you.

                       -Written for Kristy A.

                             -Doooook
                         http://www.livejournal.com/~doooook
749

Gollum would not move. He stood shaking and gibbering to himself, until a rush of wind came upon them, hissing and snarling over the marshes. The night became less dark, light enough for them to see, or half see, shapeless drifts of fog, curling and twisting as it rolled over them and passed them. Looking up they saw the clouds breaking and shredding; and then high in the south the moon glimmered out, riding in the flying wrack.

-by Stephen Ambrose

And yes, that is an exact copy from the book.

750

I hate elves – they irritate me

    -- Dorothy Parker
751

Some fool asked for U2… (with a NY accent)

One Ring by U2

Is it getting better
Or do you feel insane?
Will it make it easier on you
You ate my finger I’m in pain

You say
One Ring
Precious
When it’s one need
In the night
It’s one Ring
We cannot share it
It leaves you Smeagol
If you don’t care for it

Did my finger disappoint you?
Or leave a bad taste in your mouth?
You act like it’s really your Ring
And you want me to go without

Well it’s too late
Tonight
To drag this fight out
And do what’s right
We’re one
But we’re not the same
You’re going to carry it over
Into the lava
One Ring

Have you come here for forgiveness
Have you come to raise the dead
Have you come here to play Sauron
To the Nazgul in your head
Did I ask too much
More than a lot
You gave me the Ring
Now it’s all you got
We’re one
But we’re not the same
We bite each other
Then you steal the Ring

Gandalf said
Take it to Mount Doom
Throw it in the fire
Take it to Mount Doom
Throw it in the fire
I finally entered
Even though I had to crawl
And I can’t be holding on
To what you got
You bit my finger off!

One Ring
To rule…
One Lord
Sauron is coming you fool!

One Ring
In the lava
Mount Doom
Asunder

C’mon Sam
It won’t be the same
We’ve got to carry each other
Carry each other

One Ring

752

A Lost Chapter from Return of the King – “Here Follows a Tale Concerning the Consummation of the Marriage of Aragorn, the King Elessar and Arwen Undómiel, daugther of Elrond Half-Elven and Evenstar of her People”

By Diana Gabaldon (with profound apologies to both Diana and to the late J.R.R. Tolkien)

It was the day before Midsummer in the Year 3019 of the Third Age of Middle Earth, some months after the destruction of the One Ring and the fall of Sauron, when messengers came to the fair city of Minas Tirith, and they said that there was a riding of fair folk out of the North, and they drew near now to the walls of the Pelennor. And the King said: “At last they have come. Let all the City be made ready!”

The fair Elven folk came, riding upon white steeds, grey-cloaked with white gems in their hair; and last came Master Elrond, mighty among Elves and Men, bearing the sceptre of Annúminas, and beside him upon a grey palfrey rode Arwen his daughter, Evenstar of her people.

And Frodo cried: “At last I understand why we have waited! This is the ending. Now not day only shall be beloved, but night too shall be beautiful and blessed and all its fear pass away!”

Then the King welcomed his guests, and they alighted; and Elrond laid the hand of his daughter in the hand of the King, and together they went up into the High City, and all the stars flowered in the sky. And Aragorn the King Elessar wedded Arwen Undómiel in the City of the Kings upon the day of Midsummer, and the tale of their long waiting and labours was come to fulfilment.

The Lost Chapter: “Revelations of the Bridal Chamber”

“How in the name of Eru did this happen?” Arwen thought. “A mere 70 years ago I was innocently collecting golden elanor flowers with my Grandma Galadriel on an Elvish hill. I am now shut up in the room of a Gondorian fortress, awaiting a husband who I haven’t laid eyes on in six months, with firm orders to consummate a marriage that can lead only to the surrender of my Elvish immortality. And to top it all off, since I last saw him, Aragorn seems to have adopted delusions of grandeur – he will pull out and brandish the re-forged sword of Elendil at the drop of a hat, and embarass me by reciting all of his lineage and his various Elvish and Gondorian names.”

She sat on the bed, stiff and terrified in her early-Middle Earth finery. There was a faint noise as the heavy door of the chamber swung open, then shut.

“You dinna need to be afraid of me,” Aragorn said softly. “I wasna going to jump on ye.”

Arwen eyed him dubiously. She supposed it would be harder if she found him unattractive; in fact, the opposite was true. But, this young man – Aragorn was 2690 years younger than her according to the Tale of Years – by his own acknowledgement, was completely inexperienced. She had never deflowered anyone before. How on earth were they to start? You can’t DO this in a romance novel! she thought to herself.

“Does it bother you that I’m not a virgin?” she had asked him on that long-ago day upon Cerin Amroth in Lothlorien when they plighted their troth among the golden elanor.

“Well, no,” he had replied slowly, “so long as it doesna bother you that I am.” He grinned at her drop-jawed expression, and backed toward the foot of the hill.

“Reckon one of us should know what they’re doing,” he said. He disappeared quietly among the mallorn trees; clearly the courtship was over.

Arwen shook her head and returned to the present. Aragorn stood doubtfully by the chamber door for a moment, then suddenly he threw back his cloak. The elven-sheath glittered as he grasped it, and the bright blade of Andúril shone like a sudden flame as he swept it out. “Elendil!” he cried. “I am Aragorn son of Arathorn and am called Elessar, the Elfstone, Dúnadan, the heir of Isildur Elendil’s son of Gondor. Here is the Sword that was Broken and is forged again! Will you aid me or thwart me? Choose swiftly!”

Arwen rolled her eyes and eyed his blade warily. There he goes again, she thought. “Ah, would you like to sit down?” she said.

Aragorn’s eyes lost their kingly glaze, and he seemed to remember where he was again. “Aye.” He sheathed Andúril and came across the room, moving like a big cat. He pulled up a stool and sat down facing her.

“Look ye, lass. While I dinna pretend to know all there is to know, I’ve spent several years of my life among the horses of the Rohirrim, and unless people are verra different from animals, it isna going to take that long to do what we have to do. We have a bit of time to talk, and get over being scairt of each other.”

This blunt appraisal of their situation relaxed Arwen a little bit. Aragorn poured out two glasses of wine – Old Wineyards, 1296, a very good year, and a wedding gift from Bilbo Baggins – and handed one to Arwen as he resumed his seat.

The room was furnished with a thick twelve-hour candle, rings of dark wax marking the hours. They talked through three of the rings, only letting go of each other’s hands to pour wine or get up to visit the privy stool behind the curtain in the corner. Returning from one of these trips, Aragorn yawned and stretched.

“It is awfully late,” Arwen said, getting up, too. “Maybe we should go to bed.”

“All right,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “To bed? Or to sleep?” He cocked a quizzical eyebrow and the corner of his mouth twitched.

Arwen, resigned, decided that there was no point in further delay. She reached for the fastening of his Gondorian pants.

Ten minutes later…

Lying together afterwards, it seemed natural for her to cradle her head on his chest. They fitted well together, and most of their original constraint was gone, lost in shared excitement and the novelty of exploring each other. “Was it like you thought it would be?” Arwen asked curiously. Aragorn chuckled, making a deep rumble under her ear.

“Almost; I had thought – nay, never mind.”

“No, tell me, what did you think?”

“I’m no goin’ to tell ye; ye’ll laugh at me.”

“I promise not to laugh. Tell me.” She ran a finger over the manly stubble on his chin, and he caressed her pointy ears and smothed her dark hair back.

“Oh, all right,” he said. “I didna realize that ye did it face to face. I thought you must do it the back way, like; like horses, ye know.”

It was a struggle for Arwen to keep her promise, but she didn’t laugh.

“Well, I did spent a lot of time with the Riders of Rohan,” he said defensively. He stroked her Elvish hips with both hands. “You have good wide hips; ye’d be a good breeder, I expect.”

“What!?” She drew away indignantly but her pulled her back and collapsed on the bed with her under him. He held her until she stopped struggling, then raised her enough to meet his lips again.

“I know once is enough to make it legal, but . . .” He paused shyly.

“You want to do it again?”

“Would you mind verra much?”

Arwen didn’t laugh that time either, but she felt her ribs creak under the strain.

“No, she said gravely. “I wouldn’t mind.”

753

Originally posted by KathleenTheCritic
**Re: LOTR Musicals

I’m having such a great time with this. My co-workers think I’m losing my mind…I keep humming show tunes and cackling under my breath. **

I’ve gone beyond co-workers and friends, I think. I worry strangers! Well, I haven’t posted much, but it’s embedded in my brain 24/7 or something. So – last night, we found ourselves at a local In-N-Out Burger, and discussed ideas aloud amongst the patrons and employees – and mind you, this place was crowded. Unfortunately, as we had just seen ‘Austin Powers: Goldmember’ – well, our ideas were rather inadequate and hardly notable literature – damn, the recent posts here have been mightily impressive! – and so… the results during our dinner was thus:

"I’m from Mordor! Isn’t that veird?"

Saruman peers at Sauron
Saruman: That makes me angry, and when Saruman gets angry, Sauron gets upset. And when Sauron gets upset, people DIE!

Wormtongue: But–
Saruman: Sh!
Wormtongue: I’m–
Saruman: Sh!
Wormtongue: All I’m say–
Saruman: Sh!
Wormtongue: They’re gonna get a–
Saruman: Sh!
Wormtongue: I’m just–
Saruman: Sh!
Wormtongue: Would you–
Saruman: Sh! …Knock-knock.
Wormtongue: Who’s there?
Saruman: Sh!
Wormtongue: But–
Saruman: Let me tell you a little story about a man named Sh! Sh! even before you start. That was a pre-emptive “sh!” Now, I have a whole bag of “sh!” with your name on it.

Saruman: Why must I be surrounded by frickin’ idiots?

Gollum: I like goooooooooold! Precioussssssssssssss!

Legolas: brandishes bow and strikes a pose SHA-ZAM!

Fat Orc: to Frodo I’m bigger than you and higher up the food chain… so get in my belly!

Fat Orc: I ate a Hobbit! Ay, the other other white meat!

Gandalf: Do you know how many anonymous henchmen I’ve killed over the years? I mean, look at you. You don’t even have a name tag. You don’t stand a chance. Just lie down on the floor.

Saruman: I demand the sum… OF 1 MILLION HOBBITS.

Gandalf: So, er, little fella, is everything in the right proportions… down there?
Frodo nods
Gandalf: Come on, don’t be shy mate, let’s have a look.
Frodo unzips his pants
Gandalf: Bloody Hell, you’re a tripod mate! I bet you could lean on that?
Frodo nods

Hey, at least I didn’t have Gandalf yelping out that he’s a SEXY BEAST (half of the restaurant wanted that, plus more of Legolas acting foxy, shame). So! I have some taste. Really. So. Um. I swear that I’ll post something of worth in due course. Maybe. :smiley:

Oh, and by the way… Brain Donor… that fool asking for U2 was me – so thanks! I appreciate the NY accent, as I’m originally from the area and used to follow U2 around on their tours back when. I just couldn’t tear apart their songs myself (well, yet – I am working trashing one of my other favorite bands for kicks). Nice work! :cool:

754

Just wanted to say these are all very, very good.

Fingolfin, do you go to the Downs much? The Tom Wolfe hung-over one looked … familiar.

755

Baggin’s Cat Trilogy
by Robert Anton Wilson
Book One
No Maiden, No Horse, No Mustache

“That is not dead which can eternal lie
Yet with stranger aeons even death may die”
-H.P. Lovecraft
Part One
Gandalf the White

“Fool of a took!”
- Gandalf the Gray

The majority of life in middle earth were six-legged. They had territorial
squabbles and politics and wars and a caste system. They also had sufficient
intelligence to survive even in the barren lands of Mordor for billions of
years.
We are mot concerned here with the majority of life in middle earth. We
are concerned with a tiny minority - the domesticated primates who built
castles and wrote songs and invented things like games of chance and swords
of death.
We are concerned here in this book (“Didn’t you know the universe is a book
that we are all trapped in and no one gets a happy ending!” - Saruman the Younger)
with a certain domesticated primate name Frodo.

HOBBYSHEET #5 in a series of 30. Collect 'em all!
FORGING THE ONE RING OF POWER FOR THE HOME GOLDSMITH

The most powerful weapon ever forged. THEY used it for years to advance to the
final stages of their New World Order. The Final battle was fierce. Then THEY
lost it. The battle and the RING.
A thousand years later the ring is found again. THEY know this, and THEY want it.
but we can’t let them have it! Precious no!

Who has the ring?

At first there was a minor wave of panic among those given to worrying about
such things, which was just about all domesticated primates in middle earth and
even all other life forms that where know to associate with the domesticated
primates in the form of language. (Except for Ents that did not concern themselves
with such matters. All the Ents wanted was to find their lost Entwives and talk to
trees.)
But then a year passed, and another, and soon five years had passed, and then
nearly twenty three; and the missing ring of power was still missing but nothing
really drastic had happened.
Middle earth primates, being a simpleminded, sleepful race, simply stopped
worrying about the subject. Fnord. The most powerful weapon even made, and they
all forgot, except for one man. One majik man.

The fact that the ring was missing originally leaked to Gandalf the Grey (Grey
was the style of the time) years ago. For he knew and quested with the Hobbit Bilbo.
Bilbo took the ring from a poor creature named Gollum. The ring was then passed on.

Frodo was a Hobbit in this life. Unfortunately for him, he is the Hobbit that
inherits the one ring of power.

Frodo was sitting in his chair puffing some fine Elven hash when there was a knock
at his door.

“Who’s there?” questions Frodo.

“Did you order some lembas?” came the response.

“Hmmmmmmmm, i can not remember ordering any lembas, but perhaps i have just had
to much of this hash, damn it’s good. Well i suppose i should let him enter.”
thought Frodo.

Upon opening the door the figure of Gandalf was standing tall in the doorway
casting a shadow over Frodo.

“Gandalf! You old trickster, come on in.” says Frodo as he lets Gandalf in.

“Come my young hobbit, we have much to discuss, and you have much to learn.”

As they sat by the fireplace smoking the Elven hash Gandalf told Frodo of Sauron.
He told him of Sauron’s puppet Saruman. He told him what the GIANT EYE ON THE TOP
OF THE MOUNTAIN MEANS. He told him of the numbers 23 and 5. He told him of the RING.
He told of THEM. He told him what was inscribed on the ring “kallisti”, and what
it meant.

“Is this the truth?” questioned Frodo.

“All things are true” affirms Gandalf.

“Even false things?” the ever questioning Frodo.

“I don’t know man, i didn’t make it up!” Gandalf exclaims.

And after many hours of talk and much, much hash, Frodo saw the Fnords.

They parted ways in the early morning.

“Hail Eris” Frodo spake.

Gandalf responded “All Hail Discordia”.

756

Someone asked for it… and I couldn’t resist, so here it is. You know the tune just sing along…

Chess (London)
soundtrack lyrics

  • One Night in Mordor

[THE HOBBIT]
MOUNT DOOM, Very Evil setting
And middle earth don’t know that middle earth is getting
The creme de la creme of the evil world in a
Show with everything and a Balrog too

Time flies – doesn’t seem a minute
Since the Hobbiton shire had the hobbit boys in it
All change – don’t you know that when you
Play with Sauron there’s no ordinary venue
It’s Isengard – or the Mines of Moria-- or Helm’s Deep-- or –
or this place!

[FELLOWSHIP]
One night in Mordor and your world’s a prison
The beasts are plenty but the ring ain’t free
You’ll find a demon in every golden chasm
And if you’re lucky they will let you be
I can feel Gollum sneaking up on me

[THE HOBBIT]
One place’s very like another
When you’re fighting the Uruk-hai, brother

[FELLOWSHIP]
It’s a drag, it’s a bore, it’s really such a sin
To be looking at the enemy, not looking at Eowyn

[THE HOBBIT]
Whaddya mean? Ya seen one crowded, polluted, stinking town–

[FELLOWSHIP]
ladies, elves, warm, sweet
Some beautiful ones in Lothlorien to meet

[THE HOBBIT]
Get Aragon! You’re talking to a hobbit!
Whose every move’s among the smallest
I get my kicks from the one ring, sunshine

[FELLOWSHIP]
One night in Mordor makes a hard man humble
Not much between despair and ecstasy
One night in Mordor and the tough guys tumble
Can’t be too careful with your company
I can feel Sauron walking next to me

[THE HOBBIT]
Barad-dûr’s gonna be the witness
To the ultimate test of cerebral fitness
This grips me more than would
Ten thousand Uruk-hai, or a firey Balrog

And thank God I’m only watching the ring-- controlling it –

I don’t see you guys rating
The kind of fate I’m contemplating
I’d let you hold it, I would invite you
But the power it wields would destroy not excite you

So you better go back to your woods, your shires, your stronghold
fortress –

[FELLOWSHIP]
One night in Mordor and your world’s a prison
The beasts are plenty but the ring ain’t free
You’ll find a demon in every golden chasm
A little flesh, a little history
I can feel Gollum sneaking up on me

One night in Mordor makes a hard man humble
Not much between despair and ecstasy
One night in Mordor and the tough guys tumble
Can’t be too careful with your company
I can feel the ring taking over me.

757

Yet each wraith wants the ring of might
By all let this be heard
Some want it with the lust for gold
Some hunt it with the sword,
The nine seek for it by now
They’ll find it, 'pon my word.

The little hobbit has it yet,
But not much time remains,
Before the grasping breaths of cold
Curl round his entrails
And pluck the ring from his waistcoat
With all that it entails.

Some pluck too little, some too long,
Some seek to sell or buy
Some twist the hobbit with their hands
And make him wail and cry
But Nazgul hands will make him wish
That hobbits could but die!

To Mordor Gaol shall he go
To stand before the Eye
And there endure tortures foul
Still wishing he could fly
But know that eagles dare not go
Where hobbits go to die.

Oscar Wilde’s
The Ballad of the Ring in Mordor Gaol

758

OK, I’ve got to add one of my own - this one Homeric -

Sing in me, muse, and raise the story of dark nights and fierce contending,
When dark Sauron’s black tower, onyx-walled, soldier-breeding
Stood over the plains of Mordor in iron dominion;
And of the fellowship of Nine, who battled their way from Imladris to the South,
Always constructing defenses and seeking wise stratagems against their nine-fingered foe,
First Aragorn, king of Men, wide-travelling, who in times past led the Rangers and fought the men of the Northlands,
Corsair-slaying, thane of Ecthelion, wanderer through the lands;
Then Boromir, who from far Gondor rode searching hopes for his kingdom;
Golden-browed, first in battle among his men;
From the Elves swift Legolas, whose bow could strike the crown from a bird’s head three leagues off, sharp-seeing soldier from the northern woods;
From the Dwaves Gimli long-beard, Gloín’s son of the mountains, whose axe no other man could lift;
Then four Hobbits, men unknown who would do fearsome deeds,
Frodo ring-bearer, Bilbo’s foster-son who craved a journey through strange lands and far woods;
Samwise his servant, Pippin troll-slayer, and Merry Theoden’s-thane, who lamed the fell king of Angmar;
And Gandalf gray-hamed, wizardly traveller, who mastered the fires of Anor and knew all the things of the world;
How they journeyed and fought against their foe for the survival of the world.
(I thought of doing one a la Snorri Sturlusson, but it would read exactly like the original…)

759

The Ring by Herman Melville

Call me Frodo. Some years ago–never mind how long precisely–having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me in the Shire, I thought I would walk about and see the rest of Middle Earth. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen, and regulating the circulation…

Ick I am GLAD he didn’t write the books!

760

“Tell me about the ring Frodo”
“why don’t you tell it, you knows the whole thing, it’s about the only thing you do know”
“you tell it better Frodo, please”
“well, alright as long as it’ll keep yous quiet for a second… we’re gonna raise us a little stake and then get us some land”
“and I can tend the ring Frodo, tell about the ring!”
“whatcha got in yer pocket Sammy?”
“nothin Frodo, honest”
“don’t give me that let’s have it”
“I was just pettin it Frodo, I didn’t mean it no harm…”
“damnit Sammy, you’ve gone and killed it, now, i’ve done told you, you can’t keep petting these things but you never listen to a damn word”
“I didn’t mean no harm Frodo honest”
“well, ain’t no helping it now, toss him out, poor little bugger, sais is name was gollum aint he? well, toss him out, and don’t be pickin’im up again and puttin him back in your pocket or I won’t let you tend the ring”
“ohhhh please Frodo, don’t be mad, I didn’t mean him no harm, honest i didn’t”
“just don’t pick him back up is all”

Of Rings and Hobbits, Steinbeck

761

George Orwell (1984)
Smeagol’s heart stirred. That was the bulletin from the front; instinct told him that it was bad news that was coming. All day, with little spurts of excitement, the thought of a smashing defeat in Helms Deep had been in and out of his mind. He seemed actually to see the Mordor army swarming across the never-broken frontier and pouring down into the tip of Gondor like a column of ants. Why had it not been possible to outflank them in some way? The outline of the Fortress stood out vividly in his mind. He picked up the white knight and moved it across the board. THERE was the proper spot. Even while he saw the black horde racing southward he saw another force, mysteriously assembled, suddenly planted in their rear, cutting their comunications by land and sea. He felt that by willing it he was bringing that other force into existence. But it was necessary to act quickly. If they could get control of the whole of Rohan, if they controlled Rohan, it would cut Middle Earth in two. It might mean anything: defeat, breakdown, the redivision of the world, the destruction of Middle Earth! He drew a deep breath. An extraordinary medley of feeling–but it was not a medley, exactly; rather it was successive layers of feeling, in which one could not say which layer was undermost–struggled inside him.

The spasm passed. He put the white knight back in its place, but for the moment he could not settle down to serious study of the chess problem. His thoughts wandered again. Almost unconsciously he traced with his finger in the dust on the table:

One Ring to Rule them All, One ring to find them…

‘They can’t get inside you,’ he had been told. But they could get inside you. ‘What happens now is FOR EVER,’ They had said. That was a true word. There were things, your own acts, from which you could never recover. Something was killed in your breast: burnt out, cauterized out.

…

A shrill trumpet-call had pierced the air. It was the bulletin! Victory! It always meant victory when a trumpet-call preceded the news. A sort of electric drill ran through the cafe. Even the waiters had started and pricked up their ears.

He placed his hands as if he still held the ring. A millenium it had taken him to learn what kind of power was stored away in that golden band… O cruel, needless misunderstanding! O stubborn, self-willed exile from the loving breast! Two gin-scented tears trickled down the sides of his nose. But it was all right, everything was all right, the struggle was finished. He had won the victory over himself. He loved The Ring.