I don’t suppose I could interest anybody in a Wayne’s World
version?
Had there been a ring, once, destined to bring justice, then maybe it would have been given to a hobbit, one of stout heart and furry feet. Maybe the hobbit would have defended it from the hollow-souled nazgul mounted on their death-bleached stallions, and carried it safely through dark stone dwarven halls, through the brick, wood and steel of the cities of men, and even the luminous green forests of elves. And if that hobbit had been given companions, how certain would his heart have been, how fleet and sure his furry feet. Surely he would never have faltered until you would have heard his hand knocking on your door.
But the ring was not called justice, and no such ring could ever have been given to any bearer. Even if such a ring existed, even if a bearer could be found, the tenebrous dwarven halls are endless and cannot be traversed by even the most courageous and wise, and even if this were possible, no one could ever pass through all the cities of men, infinite with noise and crowds, and even if this barrier were breachable, beyond these cities lie the elven forests, impenetrable and eternal, forever unmoved by the concerns of mere mortals. And you will wait in vain for the sound of a hand knocking on your door, oblivious to the passage of months and years, until you lie on your death-bed, still listening, and you will die without hearing anything but the faltering beat of your own heart.
– Franz Kafka
Don’t kill me, if you find any serious mistakes in the following text. It’s just so that my mother-language isn’t English, it’s Swiss-German. And also the author I’m trying is from Switzerland and isn’t so well known. Well, just overlook my mistakes and read.
Das Buch der Ringe (The Book of the Rings) by Micha Pansi
Chapter 15: Auf der Suche nach Wahrheit (In Search for Truth)
“A hundred years I needed!”, explained Saruman. Gandalf observed him with cautiosness. “How have you found them?”-“To track them down was easier as to get hold of them. The first, which I found, were the Rings of the Dwarfes. They decorated the hands of the dwarf-kings of Khazad-Dum. The dwarfes used to call them the “Eyes of the Sun”. But they never realized, which power was in them. The kings never called the power of the rings but the kings exuded the power of them. Full of devotion the dwarfes believed in their kings. The kings overhelmed them with their gossip of freedom and honour. The dwarfes would all went to die for their kings, so convinced they were of their kings uprightness.”
“And you have conquered the dwarfes?”-“Yes. What a massacer it was! The peace only returned, after I took the crown.”-“What happened with the dwarf-king? I knew Dain of Erebor.”-“Really?”, Saruman smilled. “The king is dead.”-“This is unfortunate.”-“The ruler can not alway show mercy.”-“And the other rings?”-“An unfortunate coincidence wanted it that I found the rings of the elves. I would have been very difficult to steal them from the hands of the elven kings. Without them, the elves wouldn’t have become so powerful. Without them, you wouldn’t have come here, Gandalf.”
“Where is Princesse Arwen Undomiel?”-“Here in the tower. I have demanded five thousand pieces of gold from Master Elrond and three thousand more for Aragorn. Elrond will certainly pay.” The hands crossed over his back Saruman went across the room and back again.”The ring of fire you have brought to me by yourself, Arwen has brought the other two rings of the elves, after she has stolen them from Elrond and Galadriel. What for an irony! The one ring was a holy relict of the hobbits in the shire and was called “Heart of Fire”. For centuries the hobbits have hidden him in a secret temple, until nobody really knew, what power he really hold. Bilbo Baggins has given it to Frodo as a sign of trust in his successor. I have told him to come and this idiot really came!”“Then you don’t want to begin a war?”-“Certainly not! What does Elrond matter now? When I have mastered the ring and become the Dark Lord myself, he will knee before my throne.”
If your sword
Is glowing blue
Remember Orcs
Need shaving, too.
Burma Shave.
(Aargh! Those Burma Shave signs are the crack cocaine of advertising.)
In Shelob’s lair
You enter in
And she might take you
For a spin.
Burma Shave
If you’re stretched out
On a bier
Don’t forget
To seek a mirror
Burma Shave
If you want
To look real neat
Don’t neglect
To shave your feet
Frodo, shave
Ugluk Welcome to the SDMB. I hope you stick around. (All of you newbies who’ve posted to this thread too!)
You did just fine for having English as a second language. Though I do not know the original piece, the way you have “written” it sounds fine. Your errors are mostly in punctuation, but it is no worse than I’ve seen from some who have spoken English from todlerhood.
Men who look
Just like a tree?
Perhaps you better
Leave them be.
Burma Shave
Lord of the Rings, by Vaclav Havel
SCENE ONE
The music dies away as the curtain rises slowly.
BILBO is alone on the stage. He is sitting at his desk and staring at the wall. After a long pause he gets up and looks in his pocket. Then he smokes a bit of pipe weed. After another long pause the curtain drops suddenly, and at the same time the music returns.
SCENE TWO
The music dies away as the curtain rises slowly.
BILBO is alone on the stage. He is sitting at his desk and staring at the wall. After a long pause he gets up and looks in his pocket. Then he smokes a bit of pipe weed. After another long pause the curtain drops suddenly, and at the same time the music returns.
SCENE THREE
Scene One
The music dies away as the curtain rises slowly.
BILBO is alone on the stage. He is sitting at his desk and staring at the wall. After a long pause he gets up and looks in his pocket. Then he smokes a bit of pipe weed. There is a knock on the door. Bilbo hesitates for a moment, and then cautiously approaches the door and looks through the peep-hole. That calms him and he opens the door.
GANDALF enters
Gandalf: How often do you sleep?
Bilbo: It varies -
Gandalf: Do you ever dream about the ring? Or dream that you’re in Mordor?
Bilbo: Something
Gandalf: Bilbo -
Biblo: Yes?
Gandalf: You don’t doubt, do you, that we all like you -
Bilbo: I know
(There is a knock at the door)
Bilbo: Frodo, the door!
Frodo (Off stage): Just a minute!
(Pause. Bilbo is trembling with cold and rubbing his arms.)
Gandalf: Pipe weed?
Bilbo: Yes.
Gandalf: Apart from pipe weed are you on anythinge lse?
Bilbo: Not really.
Gandalf: Bilbo -
Biblo: Yes?
Gandalf: You don’t doubt, do you, that we all like you -
Bilbo: I know
(There is a knock at the door)
Bilbo: Frodo, the door!
Frodo (Off stage): Just a minute!
(Pause. Bilbo is trembling with cold and rubbing his arms.)
Gandalf: By all the things you did and have been doing up to now, you’ve earned our respect and our love, and in so doing you have suffered a great deal. Obviously you are not a superhobbit, and the oppressive atmosphere in which you have had to live is bound to have left its mark. But all that said, I can’t escape the awful feeling that lately something inside you has begun to collapse - as if an axis that has held you together has given way, as if the ground is collapsing under your feet - as if you’ve gone lame inside - that you are tending more and more to act the part of yourself instead of being yourself. Your personal life, that vital plank, is - don’t be angry - in a mess, you’re lacking a fixed point out of which everything inside you would grow and develop - you’re losing the strength and perhaps even the will to give away the ring - you’re erratic - you’re letting yourself be consumed by it, you’re sinking deeper and deeper into a void and you can’t get a grip on things - you’re just waiting for what is going to happen and so you’re no longer the self-aware subject of your life, you’re turning into its passive object - you’re obviously at the emrcy of the Dark Lord Sauron but he does not drive you in any direction, he merely drives about inside you - your existence seems to have become a cumbersome burden to you and you have really settled for listening hopelessly to the passing of the time. What happened to your perspective on things? To your humour? Your industry and persistence? The potency of your pipeweed? Your irony and self-irony? Your capacity for enthusiasm, for emotional involvement, for commitment, even for sacrifice?! I fear for you, Bilbo - I fear for us! We need you! You have no idea how we need you, we need you the way you used to be! So I’m asking you to swear that you won’t give up - Don’t weakn! Keep at it! Get a grip on yourself! Pull yourself together! Straighten up!
Bilbo -
Biblo: Yes?
Gandalf: You don’t doubt, do you, that we all like you -
Bilbo: I know
(There is a knock at the door)
Bilbo: Frodo, the door!
Frodo (Off stage): Just a minute!
(Pause. Bilbo is trembling with cold and rubbing his arms.)
Well, that would have been far funnier if I hadn’t left the “Scene One” tag as the start of SCENE THREE.
=/
Boy,you guys sure do like Burma Shave,don’t you?
Through the swirling dust, Legolas saw another Orcish bowman dart out from behind a rock. The dust was the most common memory of the soldiers who fought in Mordor, or as they called it “The Mor”.
Legolas was determined to get this one. Most of the orcs were crazy, but this one was smart. While most loosed their arrows wildly, this one never exposed himself for very long. He would lean out, sight on one of the young rangers accompanying the E-boys, fire, then duck out of sight.
The swirling dust stung his eyes as he waited patiently for the orc to reappear. It was funny, Legolas thought, that he didn’t notice the thousands of arrows flying around him. The only ones that bothered him were the ones that came close enough for him to hear a buzz.
Further down the narrow footpath, Frodo crouched, catching his breath. "Damn!" He wished that he had brought along his wineskin, since he was terribly thirsty now. Unfortunately, Gandalf had told them that this would be a simple prisoner snatch. Grab a few wights, in and out in less than an hour. On raids like that, a wineskin wasn't necessary; just useless weight. Better to carry ammo: lots of arrows.
Boromir was standing next to him, launching a torrent of arrows at the swarming orcs. For the first time since they had roped in over the Black Gate, Frodo felt like he was going to make it out of this mess. Then Boromir dropped in a heap beside him. The shaft of an orcish crossbow bolt protruded from just below the rim off Boromir's helmet. Just like that, Boromir was gone.
"Holy shit, he's dead!" Sam screamed.
"Dead?" Frodo thought. It was all so unreal. This was the first time he'd seen anyone die. It wasn't like in the stories Uncle Bilbo told, with noble last words to encourage his comrades. No, Boromir just fell. Despite the afternoon heat, Frodo suddenly felt cold. He wished that he hadn't left his the mithril back plate on the cot back in Rivendell.
"You'll never need it; unless you plan on running away!" Merry had laughed at him when they were gearing up. So Frodo had left it behind. Along with the wineskin. He'd left Merry behind, with Bombadil, the medic, after he took a bolt through the wrist. Somewhere back along these twisting footpaths.
Aragorn was mad. Those damn E-boys! His rangers were young, and need to fight in disciplined formations. Not the E-boys. They were good at what they did; hell, they were the best. But too undisciplined. Now, when everyone needed to work together, they were charging off on their own. He looked. Gimli was still with him, despite the nasty-looking shoulder wound.
"That's three!" Gimli roared, dropping a charging orc with a well-thrown hand axe. Good old Gimli; still in the fight, but obviously hurting. Aragorn new he had to get his men under some cover.
Then he heard it. A piercing shriek of pain. Aragorn glanced up. One of the eagles was spinning, out of control. A long trail of dislodged plumage spiral up to where it had been hit, blasted out of the air by an orcish ballista. As he watched fall, it disappeared behind a pile of large rocks. He still heard it hit the ground with a feathery thump.
"Gwaihir's hit!! They got him!!!" One of his rangers yelled.
Aragorn moved quickly. "Eomer, Pippin, follow me. Gimli, keep their heads down until we get to the bird, then bring the rest of the squad." They flung themselves in a mad dash between the pelting arrows. Aragorn grimaced. He hoped Gandalf, up in the C2 bird, could guide him to the stricken eagle.
— from: Blackrider Down (A Story of Third-Age War)
by Mark Bowen
Well, now that you mention it…
(Our scene opens in Merry’s hobbit hole, where Merry’s World is being shot for Shire Public Access…)
Merry: Okay, we’re back nod
Pippin: Party on, Merry!
Merry: Party on, Pippin… (pause) nod Okay!
Pippin: Heh!
Merry: Today on “Merry’s World” our special guest is Gimli the Dwarf.
Pippin: Yeah, because he’s the only person we could find who was shorter than us!
Merry: Heh…well, that’s not why he’s here (but he is shorter than us!). Actually, he’s here to promote his new book, “Mining for Dummies”… so let’s have a great “Merry’s World” welcome for…Gimli the Dwarf!
Pippin: Yay!
(Gimli comes out and sits next to Pippin)
Merry: So, Gimli…ever get lost in the mines of Moria? (knowing grin)
Gimli (whisper): You promised you wouldn’t bring that up!
Merry: So Gimli, you wrote a book…tell us about it.
Gimli: Well, it’s a how-to manual to teach non-dwarves how to mine.
Merry: Oh…so hopefully you recommend shoring up rock bridges that extend over really deep chasms, then, eh?
Gimli: Um…
Pippin: Yeah, and maybe you tell people to put up MAPS of their mines with little stars that say “Hey, you are HERE” so they don’t get lost and have to rely on wizards whose memory isn’t what it used to be.
Gimli: Um…
Merry: Yeah, and maybe the part about not mining so deep into the earth that you awaken and release demons? How about that? What chapter is that in?
Gimli: Um…
Merry: Okay, that’s all the time we have on “Merry’s World” today, but we’ll be back next week with a visit from Arwen…
Pippin: Ohhhh Arwen…she’s a babe…
Merry: She’s babelicious!
Pippin: She’s more smokin’ than my pipeweed!
Merry: Ooh, good one, Pippin!
Gimli: Um…
Merry: Okay, so, until next week, I’m Merry…
Pippin: And I’m Pippin…
Merry: And this is Merry’s World
Merry and Pippin (singing): Merry’s World…Merry’s World…Breakfast time, excellent…Merry’s World…Merry’s World…
How many danm typos can I make…
Other titles someone should try:
All Quiet On The Westron Front
Ring Of Iron
The Gold Ring Of Courage
The Thin Gold Band (just not like that pretentious movie)
or, if anyone likes Don Johnson’s only good role…
A Boy And His Grond
Just read your latest post,Amy–brilliant!
blush aw shucks… grin thanks…any more ideas? 
Now that you mention it,yeah…how about an ER version?
Or LOTR a la Roald Dahl?
Gandalf’s beard
Is long and thick.
You never see him
With a chick.
Burma Shave
Ok, ER is out because plainly Middle Earth has no hospitals - you either die or you don’t, and if you don’t, you might get magically healed by the elves, but more likely you limp…
As for Roald Dahl…hmm…I hated Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - the movie gave me nightmares for literally months when I was little, and it’s been a really really long time since I read James and the Giant Peach… I"ll have to think about that…