It’s in the way I make mischief,
in the way I have fun,
it’s in my part of the Shire,
and my love of the sun.
I am a Hobbit – phenomenally.
Phenomenal Hobbit – that’s me.
(My wife contributes Maya Angelou’s version of Lord of the Rings)
If written by Kazuo Ishiguro
I think I really will undertake that journey suggested to me by Master Frodo recently. A journey, I should say, that I will make in the company of a few close friends. A journey, as I understand it, that will take me through some of the roughest and most dangerous parts of Middle Earth.
The idea of my accompanying Master Frodo, I might add, was put to me a short time ago when he received a visit from the mysterious wizard, Gandalf the Grey. I remember I was in the garden bedding down some petunias, when Gandalf, on spying me there outside the window, drew me in for a word. It’s not that I was eavesdropping–that is to say, I didn’t purposely lean my ear to the wall as I stooped to pat down the soil around the newly-bloomed flowers. I was merely applying the professionalism expected of my position as head gardner for such a distinguished hobbit as Master Frodo.
On receiving my person into their presence, it was suggested to me that perhaps I would like to join Master Frodo on his trip to Mt Doom with the one ring. I must confess, I was rather taken aback by this suggestion, and I don’t recall exactly what I replied now. Quite probably I thanked him for the offer, but it seems I must have appeared hesitant, for Gandalf continued as if I hadn’t spoken.
“I think this would be for the better, Samwise Gamgee,” he said. “You’ll be good company for Frodo and may be able to help him with his burden. It’s about time you got out of the Shire and saw a bit more of Middle Earth.”
I recall thinking I could point out to Gandalf, that as a man of my profession in perhaps the most prestigous house in Hobbiton, I had already seen, in a sense, much of the best that Middle Earth has to offer. Indeed I do believe, I thought, that by remaining behind to maintain Mr Frodo’s garden, I would be assisting in the preservation of one of the finest old gardens in the Shire. Of course it would have been rather presumptuous, a man of my position, to express this thought in the presence of such a distinguished wizard as Gandalf the Grey. Instead, I contented myself by replying simply, “I have already seen the best of Middle Earth, right here in the Shire.”
…Dan Quayle’s version…
<shudder>
This… Is… The… Ring that never ends
It just goes on and on my friends,
Some hobbit, started wearing it, not knowing what it does
And he just kept on wearing it corrupted as he was…
The dark lord Sauron had been searching for this ring for a very long time by this point - millenia, really, although millenia might indicate otherwise. Now, this One Ring was almost, but not quite, completely unlike any other ring. Which wasn’t to say it wasn’t a ring at all, because it was - what made it unlike other rings was the fact that it had a mind of its own. This caused a great deal of trouble amongst other reputatable ring-makers of the time who, although saying otherwise, did not really put blood and sweat into their own rings; consequently, they gathered together to destroy the dark lord, which very much didn’t please him.
Since the dark lord Sauron wanted his ring back, a fellowship decided to keep it away from him, despite all their knowing consisted of the idea that “very bad things would happen.” Despite very bad things already happening (the dark lord was quite unhappy about being mostly-destroyed some aeons past), they felt obligated to take the One Ring and toss it into a boiling volcano just beneath the dark lord’s eye - which, of course, was a very silly thing to do.
Hi! This wouldn’t be a surprise to any, but I was linked from Slashdot - and I must say that this is one of the more amusing threads I’ve ever read anywhere. ^_~
Here’s another contribution for you.
L.O.T.R.
(excerpted from the screenplay by Oliver Stone.)
OSGILIATH HOTEL SUITE - THAT NIGHT
Frodo and Sam watch as Gollum paces wildly, speeding.
Frodo: Smeagol, can I just ask you this directly? did you ever work for the Mordor?
Gollum (laughs): You make it sound like some remote fuckin’ experience in ancient history. Man, you never leave Mordor. Once they got you, you’re in for life.
Frodo: And Sauron?
Gollum: Sauron’s an “untouchable”, man - highest clearance. Sauron, The Witch King, the Nagul - all Mordor.
Frodo: What about Saruman?
Gollum: Saruman? Saruman was a pimp. A wizard in Isengard for Mordor. He used to teach magic to Gandalf when he was still on our side. Check out Saruman The White. Shit - we almost had Gandalf. Then we tried to whack him. Everybody’s flipping sides all the time. It’s fun ‘n’ games, man fun ‘n’ games.
Sam: What about the Goblins, Smeagol? How do they figure in this?
Gollum: They’re Mordor, too. Don’t you get it? Orcs and Goblins together. Trying to whack out the Men. Mutual interests. They been doing it for years. There’s more to this than you dream. Uruk-Hai fucking hates Mordor. Orthanc Intelligence got something to do with it too. Check out “Grima Wormtongue” in Rohan. Saruman the White. Bill Ferney. Ugluk. The shooter, I hear, was an Isengard Orc - the bagman at Saruman’s club. I heard he shot his own partner. Got that? Check out the rich fucks in Gondor. Boromir. He’s dirty. That’s all I know. But Mordor always runs the show. Check out something called “Balrog” Operation Balrog. Morgoth, Mordor stuff, they’re in charge, but who the fuck pulls whose chain who the fuck knows, fun ‘n’ games man - check out Southeast Moria - that’s the next big number - the Mithril trail. “Oh, what a deadly web we weave when we practice to deceive.”
Frodo: Then who killed the High King of Gondor?
Gollum: Oh man, why don’t you stop. This is too fuckin’ big for you! Who did Isildur? It’s a mystery wrapped in a riddle inside an enigma. Even the shooters don’t fuckin’ know! Don’t you get it yet? I can’t be talking like this. They’re gonna kill me. I’m gonna die!
(he sits down, cracking, sobbing)
Gollum (CONT’D): I don’t know what happened. All I wanted in the world was to be a boatman - live by the Anduin, have fun with Deagol, swim, eat fish. But I had this one terrible, fatal weakness. The ring took me. And then I started to lose everything.
He bows his head, holding it in his hands, and his wig starts to come off in his hands.
Gollum (CONT’D): Shit! Forgot to glue this fuckin’ rug today. You know, at one time I even had a full head of hair like everyone else. And then I lost that. That fuckin’ Sauron. I hate the bastard. All I got left is in his rotten, bloody hands. He tipped the newspapers - I know it. That’s how Mordor works. They use people, chew them up, spit 'em out. Now it’s my turn.
Frodo (empathetic): Smeagol, it’s going to be okay. Just talk to us on the record and we’ll protect you. I guarantee it.
There’s a long silence. Gollum, spent, stares at Frodo. He’s about to crack, but …
Gollum: They’ll get to you, too - they’ll destroy you … They’re untouchable, man …
(then)
Gollum (CONT’D): I’m so fucking exhausted I can’t see straight.
Frodo: Get some rest, Smeagol, and you’ll feel better in the morning. We’ll talk then.
Gollum: Yeah, yeah. But leave me alone for awhile. I got to catch some fishes.
His eyes are going again. Deals … intrigue - thru the tears.
Sam: Whatever you say, Smeagol. I’ll be here. Okay?
Sam and Frodo share a look.
In which Siglet and Foo leave the Hundred Acre Wood.
*It had been some time since the “Now we are A Hundred and Eleventy-one” party, and many events had transpired - not the least of which, was the last Pot of Honey that Rabbit-the-Grey had discovered at the house of Baggie-the-Foo.
He told Foo that “on no account must he eat any more”, and would have told him to keep it somewhere secret and safe - but Rabbit knew how frail was the will of Bears, when it came to matters of honey and other such smackerels.
So he sent Foo and Siglet (who had been eavesdropping on their Very Private Conversation of Things) on a Very Long Walk instead.*
Siglet stopped walking.
“Why have you stopped?” said Foo.
“f I take one more step, it’ll be the farthest I’ve ever been from the Hundred Acre Wood.”
“Come on Siglet, it will be okay.”
“I hope you’re right, Mr Foo.”
In which Rabbit the Grey seeks advice from Christopher Lee Robin.
“The hour is late and Rabbit meets me halfway up the stair, for it is the place that I sit.
There isn’t any other stair quite like it and that is where you find me, is it not? Old Friend?”
Rabbit agreed that this was so.
They spoke a while of this and that, and then Rabbit mentioned how Foo had found an old Pot of Honey.
He voiced his concern about Foo’s disappearing habit, and that every time Foo came back, he had an unnaturally sticky paw.
Christopher seemed ususpiciously keen to get some of the Pot for himself. This disturbed Rabbit.
“The guards are changing, and the time of Alice is close at hand”, said Christopher.
And he locked Rabbit up in the Nursery at the top of the stairs.
In which Foo and Samlet pay a visit to Owlrond.
They knew which tree was Owl’s, because it had a sign on it saying “Wolrond’s place.”
“You cannot leave the Pot here”, said Owl.
“Bees are marshalling on the borders of my Tree, and I have not the right colour balloon to disguise both myself and the Pot from them.”
Foo gave a little sigh and hummed to himself a little.
“I suppose I could carry it a little more,” he said, eyeing the Pot wistfully. “Although I do not know the way.”
Rabbit (who had escaped at tea-time) was thoughtful. “I will help you”, he said.
Others came forward too.
Stigger offered his help, even though he could not bounce, he said, for his tail had been broken in a Great Bouncing a long time ago.
Kangli said she would come too, if only to keep an eye on Roogolas.
And as they walked, they found themselves on a mountain of snow.
And Foo hummed a little ditty.
“Nobody knows - tiddley pom
How cold my toes - tiddley pom
how cold my toes - tiddley pom
Are growing…”
Nobody seemed inclined to join in. They were much too busy having no way of knowing (tiddley-pom) of where they were going (tiddley pom) to be going.
- It transpired that their choice involved going through an enormous dark burrow, in which Rabbit got stuck in a Very Deep Hole, and couldn’t get out of it. So they had to leave him behind.*
Of Foosticks and Footprints.
They played a halfhearted game of Foosticks on a Great Big River, but it just wasn’t the same without Rabbit.
So the Group went for a walk arond in a Forest instead, where they came across some Unexplained Footsteps. They were following them, when Stigger saw that more footprints had joined the first.
They continued to follow them, and grew more and more puzzled, as more and more footprints joined the trail.
Foo eventually realised that they were walking around in circles, and that the mystery footprints were in fact their own.
Stigger and Kangli and Roo’ decided to carry on, just in case.
“For now we cannot be sure that no-one is following Us!”, said Stigger.
“Suit yourself”, said Foo, and he and Siglet left them to it.
But someone was following them… someone who was on their very tail, although his own was curiously missing…*
In which Foo and Siglet - and Smeeyore - contemplate many things.
(Smeeyore: “Poor us. Nobody ever likes poor Smeeyore - I’m ssssooo depresssed. Foo has my pot of honey.We don’t like it really, but it’s the only thing that was given to us as a present.We never had a present of our own before, and we wants it back!”)
“Why are we going this way?” said Siglet.
“Because it is the fastest way to the top of a Very Steep Hill” said Foo.
“But supposing a Lidless Eye Wreathed with Flame should fall upon us?”, said Siglet, looking around nervously.
Foo thought for a while, then said, “Supposing it doesn’t?”
“Oh. I see!” said Samlet (who clearly did not.)
A little later, he said: “That Heffalump was amazing, wasn’t it, Foo? They’ll never believe us back home!”
But Foo had something else to occupy his mind.
(He had often described himself as a Bear of very little Brain, and latterly the Pot was filling most of his thoughts.)
“Where’s Smeeyore hidden himself? - SMEEYORE!” shouted Foo.
“That lousy Donkey - all moping and miserable - we should have killed it when we had the chance,” said Siglet.
“That’s not a very Taoist thought,” said Foo.
“But he might kill us!”
“And he might not.”
“I’ve seen the way he looks at your honey, Foo. It worries me.”
“You worry too much, Siglet. Where has he gone? SMEEEE-YORE!”
Smeeyore reappeared with a doleful expression. “We expect you’ll want us to show you another way into the Very Bad Place now. We can’t say we blames you - those Black Gates were very depressing.”
“Cheer up Smeeyore,” said Foo brightly, “It won’t be much longer now”
“We’ll try, but we don’t know if we’ll like it very much…”
The road goes ever on and on
Back from the Jar where it began
And isn’t it funny how a bear likes honey
Buzz Buzz Buzz, I wonder why he does.
~ R.R. Milne.
*Smeeyore’s tail was later dicovered to be in use by Owlrond, as a Bell pull.
Cows, odd looking people, dogs, cats all crowd by unconcernedly through an amusement park. A small Hobbit, looking forlorn and holding a ring stands before a huge rollercoaster ride set on a large volcano. The sign states: Mount Doom…
Caption: Unfortunately, Frodo just didn’t make the height requirement.
You know what hasn’t been done yet? the “Kurt Vonnegut” Sunscreen Commencement address.
Not that I’m up to such a task myself.
If LOTR was made into a Hindi movie.
The opening sequence shows Bilbo’s birthday party. Pretty girls in revealing dresses dance and show hugely seductive gyrating body parts. The sequence ends with the sudden disappearance of Bilbo.
Cut.
Bilbo is lying wounded by an arrow in his home. All his friends and relatives are gathered around him. He passes on a ring to Frodo and dies. Frodo first cries, then in a dramatic change of expression, assumes a grim and determined face and thunders, “I swear upon my mother that unless I avenge your death, I shall not rest in peace.”
Cut.
Frodo and Samwise start from their home. Out of all the people who have come to see them off, the camera shows the faces of two lasses, one a very pretty one, and another not-so and slightly chubby, both wearing designer clothes and have tears in their eyes (but not on the face, mind. That would destroy the makeup). A wailing music of seperation is in the background. The sequence ends when Sam takes his first step out of the Shire.
Cut.
Frodo is attacked by a ring-wraith. Before he can draw his sword, Aragorn jumps out of nowhere and battles with the ring-wraith. In this speeded up sequence, swords flash rapidly and whatever they touch is burned away with a sizzle. Ultimately, just as the ring-wraith has the upper hand and is about to kill Aragorn, Aragorn somehow kills him instead. (Sorry, the heroes cannot be allowed to be killed so early).
Frodo is overwhelmed with gratitude. But Aragorn says he must have owed something to Frodo from a previous life. Frodo decides to accept Aragorn as his borther. They show a song about the love between two brothers and the responsibility of an elder brother towards the younger one.
And on and on they go to Rivendell mowing down ring-wraiths, meeting pretty women in beautiful clothes and singing songs. Oh they also have a council in which they decide to acquire the services of a holy man to cleanse the ring.
The film ends with Aragorn fighting 10 URUK-HAI together and killing them all. The way they fight is of course, not to attack him from all sides at once, but to let one of them do the fighting while the remaining others dance around him, like in any good ol’fashioned fight with one good guy fighting multiple bad guys.
So in Middle Earth, when the sun goes down and I sit in my old broken down rocking chair watching the long, long skies over the Shire and sense all that raw land that rolls in one unbelievable huge bulge down to Mordor and all those roads going ever on, all the people dreaming in the immensity of it; and in Lorien I know the trees must be crying, weeping over the departure of the Elves, and tonight the light of Elbereth will shine, drooping and shedding her sparkler dims on us that still remain just before the coming of complete night which blesses the land, darkens the Anduin, cups the peaks of the Misty Mountains and folds the western shore in, and nobody, nobody knows what’s going to happen to anybody except the slow journey of growing old. I think about Frodo Baggins and our mad, driven, desperate, innocent rage into the unknown, and in my heart I hear the call of the Havens. I even think of Old Bilbo Baggins, the gentle inspiration of our adventuring souls. I think of Frodo Baggins.
~ Excerpt from last chapter by Jack Kerouac
“Down these mean paths a hobbit must go who is not himself mean, who is neither tarnished nor afraid. He is the hero, he is everything. He must be a complete hobbit and a common hobbit and yet an unusual hobbit. He must be, to use a rather weathered phrase, a hobbit of honor, by instinct, by inevitability, without thought of it, and certainly without saying it. He must be the best hobbit in his world and a good enough hobbit for any world.” –Raymond Chandler, “The Simple Art of Mordor”
I’ve seen a coupla Robert Frosts, but no spin on “The Road Not Taken.” Ironically, I think reading that poem almost leaves you thinking Frost could have been thinking of Frodo and Sam, and not much even has to be changed.
“The Road (to Mordor) Not Taken”
Two roads diverged near a darkened wood
And sorry we had to travel one
And fearful of both, long we stood
And looked down each as far as we could
To where it vanished from light of sun;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the safer claim,
Because it was marshy and wanted wear;
Though the smell of death lingering there
Made our stomachs uneasy just the same.
And both that morning equally lay
Leading to Mount Doom’s shroud of black.
Oh, we kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing what fate should like to say,
We doubted if we would ever come back.
You shall be reading this with a sigh,
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged near a darkened wood, and we,
We took the one more damp and marshy
And that has made all the difference.
(with all due credit and respect to the original author, naturally, Mr. Robert Frost)
Dear all: lovely, lovely!!
(my humble submissions:)
THREE THOUSAND YEARS OF SOLITUDE
Luthien Iguaran = Beren Aureliano
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Dior Aureliano = Nimloth Buendia
(Jose Thingol’s Heir) of Doriath
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Earendil = Elwing Aureliano Buendia
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--------------------------
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Celebrian = Elrond Aureliano Elros Jose Arcadio
the beauty | | | 17 Numenorian Aurelianos
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Elladan Aureliano Elrohir Arcadio Arwen Celebrian
Many years later, as he stood on the shores of Valinor, Elrond Aureliano would remember that day long ago when his father took him to see the White Tree set up in front of the house of Isildur, in the years before it was destroyed by Jose Sauronio Buendia. On that day, Isildur stood in the court of his house, in the same tattered cloak he always wore when dealing with the elves, calling all of his guests out from their slumber.
“Come see the wonder of Numenor! Many treasures and great heirlooms of virtue we have brought, but none is more wondrous than the White Tree, grown from the very fruit dropped gently into my own hand by Nimloth the Fair, that stood in the courts of the King at Armenelos in Numenor! Come see this amazing likeness of Telperion of the Valar!”
Having already paid their two pesos at the gate, Elrond and Elwing waved their tickets at Isildur and ducked under the edge of the tent, from which exuded a most marvelous fragrance, as of ripe pomegranates and peaches. The tree that stood before them was lovely, tall and sinuous as any elven design, yet with an inner luminosity that defied description. Elrond Aureliano had been stunned, and reached out to touch the trunk, only to feel waves of gentle warmth arising from the bark. “Why, father, it’s warm!”
“Yes, son,” Elwing Aureliano Buendia replied. “Why, with a forest of these things, we could generate enough heat to finally live comfortably on top of the White Mountains! I must have this tree…” :smack:
OR:
** William Goldman (ala the Princess Bride)**
The year that Bill the Pony was born, the most pathetic looking quadruped in Middle Earth was a Jersey Cow on a small farm along the River Ringlo, in Gondor. Her coat was matted and blotchy, her eyes were big and sorrowful, and her days were filled with an endless search for one small blade of grass that hadn’t already been trampled on by the pen of pot-bellied pigs she was forced to room with. She would probably have remained the most pitiable animal, had not a passing noblewoman taken pity on the poor beast, and inquired as to its condition. Learning that the unhappy cow was not given to producing either milk nor children, and was unlikely to ever do either, she paid the farmer twenty shillings to shoot it.
When Bill the Pony was five, the most wretched animal was… (more long and humorous accounts of pathetic animals improving their lots unexpectedly, and thus losing their positions at the bottom of the list.)
Bill the Pony, of course, knew nothing of this, and if he had, he would have found it unremarkable. Why, most animals outside the Shire or Lothlorien are rather wretched on any given day, so why should anyone make lists? He would have been very surprised to learn that on the day when Frodo and Samwise bought him from Bill Ferny, he was barely among the bottom five, being neither within a week of starvation, nor missing any limbs, and held that place mostly on the basis of potential, found mostly in the despair in his eyes and the arthritic limping he usually affected when confronted by any kind of command….
one more, in a musical vein:
RE: longhair75 (Jefferson Ring Ship. page 11)
revision and extension, for those of us who love this song (with thanks to AirBear), to the tune of Go Ask Alice:
** Jefferson Fellowship **
One ring gives you power
And one ring makes you crawl
And the one that Bilbo gave you
Keeps you young (if not so tall)
Just ask Gollum,
When he’s Smeagol…
And if you go teasing Nazgul
And you know you’re going to fall
Tell 'em a hookah-smoking wizard
Has given you the call
Go tell Gollum,
When he’s spewing gall
When rangers in the tavern
Get up and tell you where to go
And you will just have some kind of vision
When you slip that damn ring o-on
Go ask Gollum,
I think he’ll know
When logic says destruction
Of the ring’s a marathon,
And the white wizard has betrayed you,
And the Elves are almost gone,
Remember, the eye of Sauron:
Never put it on!! Never put it o-on!! Never put it o-o-o-o-on!!!
When you grow up, as I did, in a beautiful Shire, during what just happens to be its golden age, you think of it as eternal. Always was there, always will be. The quaintness of the delvings creates the illusion of permanence. The Shire into which I was born certainly seemed perennial to me. The East Road was our Arnavanda, Frogmorton and Whitfurrows were our Altanal and Tarayana, and as for the Pastoral Fairway sweep of our Green-Hill Country, well, that was something not even Osgiliath could boast. I actually grew up believing Pastoral Fairway to be the “Shire style,” a local invention, its name derived, in all probability, from the contemplative of the verb “to eat.” Gesena. Lo and behold the fairway. (When I began to be familiar with images of Minas Tirith, I at first felt a sort of anger. The Dunedain had so much; did they have to possess our “style” as well? . . . )
– Frodo Baggins (in Salman Rushdie’s The Middle-Earth Beneath His Footses)
(Incidentally, Rushdie mentions Tolkien in the actual book.)
Wow, great stuff. I’m sure I don’t like half of them half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of them half as well as they deserve. But I especially like “Ring Talk.”
Anyway, my modest contribution:
Scenes from “Take the Ring and Run,” by Woody Allen
Gandalf: The Lord of Darkness never sleeps. Even now, his eye is open, searching for the ring through all of Middle Earth. No place is safe from his spies.
Frodo: Who is this guy, anyway? J. Edgar Hoover?
G: The only way to destroy the ring is to cast it into the Cracks of Doom.
F: The Cracks of Doom? Sounds like my first three marriages.
G: Frodo, you must bear the ring to Mordor and destroy it.
F: Mordor? Oh no, not me. I’m not going to any evil kingdoms. I never leave Hobbiton. I get a rash just going down to Buckland. The last time I went to an evil kingdom and saved the world from unspeakable horror I spent the next two months quivering in bed like a jellyfish. My therapist says I have an unnatural fear of hideous torture. She says I have a coward complex. Oh no, you’ll have to find someone else to save the world. Why don’t you take it?
G: DO NOT TEMPT ME, FRODO BAGGINSTEIN! You must do this. The fate of the free world lies in your hands.
F: Oh, well, if it’s the fate of the free world, hehhh (faints).
….
[At the gates of Rivendell. Arwen opens slot in door. Outside are Frodo, Sam, Merry, Pippin, and Strider.]
A: What can I do for you?
F: Here, take this. [Hands note to A.]
A: [reading note] Let me in. I have the one ving.
F: Not ving, ring.
A: No, that’s definitely a v.
F: Look, I failed penmanship in the fifth grade. I have this thing about rs—they make me break out in hives.
A: Well, I’ll have to take this to the manager.
[Inside Elrond’s office. With him are Legolas, Gimli, and Gandalf.]
E: Hmm, looks like ving to me. What do you think, Legolas?
L: No, that’s an r.
Gimli: Let me see that…. No, that looks like a v.
F: Look, while we’re wasting our time here, the evil lord is gathering his forces to take over the free world. He’s got orcs and Nazi gulls and… and… and… really big mosquitoes. So if you don’t mind, I’m going to take that to Mordor and cast it into the Cracks of Doom.
[Boromir breaks into the office]
B: Here, give me that ring. I’m going to use it to save the free world.
F: Hey, don’t cut in line.
B: That ring belongs rightfully to the people of Gondor.
F: Gondor? Isn’t that somewhere in Jersey?
B: I demand that you give me the ring.
F: The complaint department is two doors down on the left. Now we were here first—you’ll just have to wait your turn to save the world.
B: Let’s take a vote.
F: A vote? You can’t vote on who you want to save the world.
B: OK, how many want to be saved by the halfling?
[No one raises his hand.]
F: Hey, what is this? A meeting of the anti-halfling league?
B: Who wants to be saved by the men of Gondor?
[All raise their hands.]
F: Hey wait, I demand a recount.
E: It is resolved, then. The ring goes to Boromir.
F: Who are you, Katherine Harris? I stole that ring fair and square. [Frodo grabs the ring and runs away. A comical chase ensues.]
…
F: How about that Galadriel, Sam? Ooh, I’d love to cover my naked body in chocolate sauce and have her lick it off me.
S: Frodo, what’s gotten into you? You know you can’t have her?
F: Why not?
S: She’s an elf, for one thing.
F: So? What’s wrong with dating outside your species? Cher does it all the time.
S: She’s married.
F: All right, so I’ll invite her husband along too.
S: She’s immortal. She’s been alive since the earliest days of creation.
F: What’s your point?
S: She’s sixty years younger than you, you pervert!
…
Galadriel: Would you like to look into my mirror, Ringbearer?
F: Would I ever…
G: Um, the mirror is over there.
F: Oh, sorry, it’s just that, um, I always confuse the elven word for mirror with breast. So what will I see in the mirror?
G: What the mirror reveals depends on who is looking.
F: I had a mirror like that once. It made me look like a Balrog on a bad hair day. [Looks in mirror.]
M: So there’s Mr. Hotshot Ringbearer, who’s too busy with all his important work to call his mother.
F: Ma, what are you doing there?
M: How else is a mother supposed to talk to her only son.
F: Ma, you’re dead. You drowned in the Brandywine. I always told you not to drink that stuff.
M: Oh, so just because I’m dead you think you’re too high and mighty to talk to me. If your father were alive it would kill him to hear that. So what’s this I hear about you and that goyish elf.
F: [whispering] Not now, Ma, she’s standing right behind me.
M: What’s the matter with you anyway? Why can’t you find a nice Hobbit girl? What about that Proudfoot girl?
F: Ma, her feet were bigger than her breasts. If we had kids, they would’ve suckled her toes.
M: Frodo, they’re calling me. I’ve got to go. If you want to ruin your life by going to Mordor and saving the world, don’t let your mother stop you. I’ll just sit here alone in the dark. But [voice fading] don’t forget to wear your galoshes.
[The mirror goes blank. Cut to Frodo. Suddenly, we see his eyes grow and he steps back in horror.]
F: No! They can’t do that to the Shire!
G: Frodo, what is it? Fire, death, destruction?
F: Even worse! They’re selling pastrami on white bread at Morry’s. With… with… with ketchup! I’ve got to go back!
G: No! Frodo, the mirror shows what was, what is, and what may yet come to pass. But if we try to change it, we may bring on even worse evil.
F: You mean….
G: Yes, Frodo.
F: Strawberry bagels? With sprinkles?!!
…
[At the top of Mt. Doom]
S: Frodo, you must cast the ring into the fire. The fate of the free world hangs in the balance.
F: Hey, what has the free world ever done for me. [Puts on ring. Suddenly, we see the Eye casting its glance towards him.] Wow, I bet he never loses his contacts. [We see the Nazi gulls swooping in towards him.] Sure, they’re evil and immortal and all that, but I’ll bet they’ve never read a book. [Gollum sneaks up from behind and bites off his ring finger.] Hey! Come back with that! That’s one of my ten favorite fingers! [Gollum falls into the Cracks of Doom.] Never mind. I never had much luck with rings anyway.
S: Frodo, you did it! You saved the free world!
F: Oh, well, hey, I always try to save the free world before lunch. [Faints.]
He was a Wizard of the West, who, a vagrant like his similars, was now in the Shire (and a regular visitor to the Bag End of Bilbo Baggins), and tomorrow he would be Eru knows where, because he seemed to pursue a plan of his own of which he never spoke with anyone. He had a great hat with a mighty bush of eyebrows and eyes reddened from all his reading by stafflight, but he truly seemed an ark of learning. He fascinated Frodo at this latest meeting – by the roadside naturally – asking him subtle questions on which the hobbit’s friends would have spent days and days of wrangling. Can Balrogs freeze? Can an orc sing? Does the sweat of a hobbit’s feet stink more than that of other peoples? Does an Ent flush when he feels shame? Does a Man grieve more over the vanishing of a Kingdom or over the ruin of its monuments? Must Elves have pointed ears? Can you take this Ring of Power and drop it in the Fires of Mount Doom for me? The question that fascinated Frodo most was that of the perils of the One Ring, on which Gandalf considered himself wiser than any other Wizard.
– Umberto Eco, Frodolino
Dear Miss Manners,
A few years ago, I came into possession of a precious family heirloom when a beloved relative disappeared. There are some legends associated with this heirloom, and some hints of danger, and so I have kept the item hidden in a safe place. Recently, however, the executor of my relative’s will informed me that the item must be destroyed. Destruction of the item in question would involve great difficulties on my part, but I also fear that keeping it may lead to my untimely demise (as well as the destruction of civilization as we know it). My initial reaction to the demands of the executor was to take offense, as I have always been told that once a present is given, the giver has no more claims on the item. However, I feel that I may have been wrong to take offense. What would be the proper response in this situation, and how can I make amends.
Gentle Reader,
It is true that, under normal circumstances, a gift-giver’s claim over a gift ends when the gift is received. Etiquette, however, is not the rigid taskmaster that its critics claim it to be, and it recognizes the responsibility of the giver to inform the receiver of any dangers a gift might impose, even if those dangers come to light after the gift is received. Certainly Miss Manners would want to know that the kitty her friend so graciously gave her was in fact a lion, so that she could arrange for the proper care.
The proper response in this case is to thank the giver for the warning, and to assure him that you will take his advice into consideration. Any further action you take is entirely up to you; however, Miss Manners would be remiss if she did not point out that it is generally considered bad manners to allow civilization to be destroyed (indeed, the salvation of civilization is part of her job description).
I know it’s late for this thread, but I couldn’t resist… here it is, my long long interpretation of Monty Python’s Lord Of The Rings:
Enjoy,
Marc
Scene 20
[Aragorn music]
[clop clop clop]
[music stops]
[boom]
Hobbits
Eh. Oh. See it? Oh. Oh.
Aragorn
Hobbits! Forward!
[boom boom boom boom boom]
[squeak]
[boom boom boom boom]
What Manner of Man are you that can summon up fire without flint or tinder?
Gandalf The White
I… am an enchanter.
Aragorn
By what name are you known?
Gandalf
There are some who call me… 'Gandalf '?
Aragorn
Greetings, Gandalf The White.
Gandalf
Greetings, Aragorn!
Aragorn
You know my name?
Gandalf
I do.
[zoosh]
You seek Mordor!
Aragorn
That is our quest. You know much that is hidden, O Gandalf .
Gandalf
Quite.
[pweeng boom]
[clap clap clap]
Frodo
Oh.
Aragorn
Yes, we’re-- we’re looking for Mordor. Our quest is to destroy The Ring.
Hobbits
Yeah. Yes. It is. It is. Yeah. Yup. Yup. Hm. Mm.
Aragorn
And so we’re-- we’re-- we’re looking for it.
Legolas
Yes, we are.
Samwise
Yeah.
Frodo
We are. We are.
Legolas
We have been for some time.
Frodo
Ages.
Legolas
Umhm.
Aragorn
Uh-- uh, so, uh, anything that you could do to, uh-- to help… would be… very… helpful.
Samwise
Look, can you tell us where–
[boom]
Aragorn
Fine. Um, I don’t want to waste any more of your time, but, uh, I don’t suppose you could, uh, tell us where we might find a, um-- find a, uh-- a, um-- a, uh–
Gandalf
A what…?
Aragorn
A r-- a-- a r-- a r-- a-- a r–
Gandalf
A ring?!
Aragorn
Yes, I think so.
Frodo
Y-- y-- yes.
Aragorn
Yes.
Sauron: 'Ello, I wish to register a complaint.
(The owner does not respond.)
Sauron: 'Ello, Miss?
Saruman: What do you mean “miss”?
Sauron: I’m sorry, I have a cold. I wish to make a complaint!
Saruman: We’re closin’ for lunch.
Sauron: Never mind that, my lad. I wish to complain about this Uruk what I purchased not half an hour ago from this very firey pit.
Saruman: Oh yes, the, uh, the one with the white hand on it’s head…What’s,uh…What’s wrong with it?
Sauron: I’ll tell you what’s wrong with it, my lad. 'E’s dead, that’s what’s wrong with it!
Saruman: No, no, 'e’s uh,…he’s resting.
Sauron: Look, matey, I know a dead Uruk when I see one, and I’m looking at one right now.
Saruman: No no he’s not dead, he’s, he’s restin’! Remarkable creature, the Uruk, idn’it, ay? Beautiful teeth!
Sauron: The teeth don’t enter into it. It’s stone dead.
Saruman: Nononono, no, no! 'E’s resting!
Sauron: All right then, if he’s restin’, I’ll wake him up! (shouting at the corpse) 'Ello, Mister Uruk! I’ve got a lovely fresh hafling for you if you show…
(Saruman hits the corpse)
Saruman: There, he moved!
Sauron: No, he didn’t, that was you hitting it!
Saruman: I never!!
Sauron: Yes, you did!
Saruman: I never, never did anything…
Sauron: (yelling and hitting the corpse repeatedly) 'ELLO uruk!!! Testing! Testing! Testing! Testing! This is your nine o’clock alarm call!
(Takes Uruk and thumps its head on the floor. Throws it up in the air and watches it plummet to the floor.)
Sauron: Now that’s what I call a dead Uruk.
Saruman: No, no…No, 'e’s stunned!
Sauron: STUNNED?!?
Saruman: Yeah! You stunned him, just as he was wakin’ up! Uruks stun easily, major.
Sauron: Um…now look…now look, mate, I’ve definitely 'ad enough of this. That Uruk is definitely deceased, and when I purchased it not ‘alf an hour ago, you assured me that its total lack of movement was due to it bein’ tired from just bein pulled out of the mud.
Saruman: Well, he’s…he’s, ah…probably pining for Mordor.
Sauron: PININ’ for MORDOR?!?!?!? What kind of talk is that?, look, why did he fall flat on his back the moment I got 'im home?
Saruman: The Uruk prefers keepin’ on it’s back! Remarkable creature, id’nit, squire? Lovely teetg!
Sauron: Look, I took the liberty of examining that Uruk when I got it home, and I discovered the only reason that it had been standin’ on it’s feet in the first place was that it had been NAILED to a tree.
(pause)
Saruman: Well, o’course it was nailed there! If I hadn’t nailed that Uruk down, it would have nuzzled up to those orcs, bent 'em apart with its hands, and BANG! Feeweeweewee!
Sauron: “BANG”?!? Mate, this URUK wouldn’t “BANG” if you put four million volts through it! ‘E’s bleedin’ demised!
Saruman: No no! 'E’s pining!
Sauron: ‘E’s not pinin’! 'E’s passed on! This Uruk is no more! He has ceased to be! 'E’s expired and gone to meet 'is maker! 'E’s a stiff! Bereft of life, 'e rests in peace! If you hadn’t nailed 'im to the tree 'e’d be pushing up the daisies! 'Is metabolic processes are now 'istory! 'E’s off the twig! 'E’s kicked the bucket, 'e’s shuffled off ‘is mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleedin’ choir invisibile!! THIS IS AN EX-Uruk!!
(pause)
Saruman: Well, I’d better replace it, then. (he takes a quick peek behind the counter) Sorry squire, I’ve had a look 'round the back of the shop, and uh, we’re right out of Uruks.
Sauron: I see. I see, I get the picture.
Saruman: I got a orc.
(pause)
Sauron: Pray, does it talk?
Saruman: Nnnnot really.
Sauron: WELL IT’S HARDLY A BLOODY REPLACEMENT, IS IT?!!???!!?
Saruman: N-no, I guess not. (gets ashamed, looks at his feet)
Sauron: Well.
(pause)
Saruman: (quietly) D’you… d’you want to come back to my place?
Sauron: (looks around) Yeah, all right, sure.
Scene 22
Aragorn
There! Look!
Frodo
What does it say?
Samwise
What language is that?
Aragorn
Brother Legolas! You are a scholar.
Legolas
It’s Mordor!
Samwise
Of course! Sauron Of Mordor!
Frodo
'Course!
Aragorn
What does it say?
Legolas
It reads, ‘Here may be found the last words of Sauron Of Mordor. He who is valiant and pure of spirit may take The Ring past the tower of Barad-Dur’.
Aragorn
What?
Legolas
‘…The Tower Of Barad-Dur’.
Samwise
What is that?
Gimli
He must have hiccuped while carving it.
Frodo
Oh, come on!
Legolas
Well, that’s what it says.
Aragorn
Look, if he was hiccuping, he wouldn’t bother to carve ‘Dur’. He’d just say it!
Legolas
Well, that’s what’s carved in the rock!
Samwise
Perhaps he was dictating.
Narrator
As the horrendous Nazgul lunged forward, escape for Aragorn and his Fellowship seemed hopeless, when suddenly, the Animator suffered a fatal heart attack.
Animator
Ulk!
[thump]
Narrator
The cartoon peril was no more. The quest to destroy the Ring could continue.