When perfect silence was once again restored, one of the two aged elves who sat at the side of the patriarch arose, and demanded aloud, in very intelligible Westron:
“Which of my prisoners is La Longue Rapier?”
Boromir, a little at a loss in what manner to proceed, remained silent; but the ranger, who had listened attentively to all that passed, now advanced steadily to the front.
“That I did not answer to the call for La Longue Rapier, was not owing either to shame or fear,” he said, “for neither one nor the other is the gift of an honest man. But I do not admit the right of the Uruks to bestow a name on one whose friends have been mindful of his gifts, in this particular; especially as their title is a lie, ‘anduril’ being a broadsword and no rapier. I am the man, however, that got the name of Aragorn from my kin, the compliment of Estel from the Sindarin, who live on their own river; and whom the Orcs have presumed to style ‘The Long Rapier’, without any warranty from him who is most concerned in the matter.”
From Last of the Moriquendi, by James Fenimore Tolkien
By Loyd Schumner, Sr.
Retired Machinist and
A.A.P.B.-Certified Astrologer
Aries
It will be small consolation to learn that the incident with the Balrog was just the result of a big misunderstanding.
Taurus
It’s nothing to be ashamed about. Most mortal men would have tried to take the ring from Frodo and thus doom all of humanity.
Gemini
Your future involves a trip to the Grey Havens, a fight to free your homeland, and an erotic encounter with a giant female spider, but not necessarily in that order.
Cancer
You’ve never been rescued by Ents after being captured by Uruk-Hai before, which just goes to show that there’s a first time for everything.
Leo
Despite all your pleading, slithering, and hissing, your Precious is still not interested in returning to you.
Virgo
You’ve always just assumed that your army of Orcs would have no trouble dealing with a band of scrappy heroes. Well I guess we’re going to get that misconception cleared up, aren’t we?
Libra
Your belief that men are a flawed and weak race will be tempered when you learn of Aragorn’s selfless heroism. But only slightly.
Scorpio
If it makes you feel any better, countless evil overlords have made the mistake of concentrating all their power in a small, easily-losable object.
Sagittarius
The Stars would like to politely suggest that it might be a prudent idea to delay your trip through the Misty Mountains until at least next April.
Capricorn
You will take part in a hilarious incident involving an inn and song about dancing tableware, although the humor of it may not be obvious at the time.
Aquarius
You’ll feel that being forced to face an army of ten-thousand Orcs is an unfair burden. Well join the club, buddy.
Pisces
While your friends will be surprised to see you again, they’ll feel that the transition from “grey” to “white” smacks of self-promotion.
MORDOR, MIDDLE EARTH - Denouncing what they called a “dreadful injustice,” Middle Earth’s evil beings made a public demand yesterday that Frodo Baggins return the One Ring to them as soon as possible.
“It’s generally known that the Ring belongs to me,” said hideous evil overlord Sauron, flanked by nine hooded attorneys. “I’m simply asking for what’s rightfully mine. Not only is the Ring my property, but its loss prevents me from pursuing my livelihood of world domination and enslavement.”
Green-skinned cave-dweller Gollum agreed. “It’s no riddle that I want the Ring back,” said Gollum. “It was rightfully mine and was stolen right out of my home by the evil Baggins, yes.”
Added Gollum, “My preciousssssssss!”
Saruman the White, wizard-lord of Isengard, also indicated that he wanted the One Ring back, but alternated between claiming it was for himself and for Sauron.
Reaction to the speech was decidedly negative. “I will not return the Ring to Sauron,” said Frodo Baggins in a telephone interview, declining to give his exact location. Other Fellowship members claimed to not know where Baggins was.
According to legal experts, the Sauron-led coalition may have a strong case. “It’s quite clear that the Ring is Sauron’s property,” said Princeton legal professor John Quinlan. “The fundamental principle of common law concerning lost property is that it becomes the finder’s property only when the original owner cannot be discenered. I don’t think there’s any doubt who thing belongs to. Not many Rings make you turn invisible and drive you crazy.”
For their part, the evil characters seemed determined to recover the Ring, though their opinions are clearly divided as to who ultimately will get to keep it.
Welcome to EverQuest!
You have entered The Mines of Moria.
/loc
Your location is -74351.13, 66398.89, 12.65.
Gimli says, “No! [Balin]!”
/say Who is Balin?
/say What about Balin?
/say How can I help with balin?
/say who the bloody goddamned hell is balin?
Gimli says, “Balin was my cousin and the [King of Moria]!”
/say What about the King of Moria?
/say King of Moria?
/say screw it
/skill 3
You have no idea what direction you are facing.
Aragorn tells the group “We should get going.”
You are encumbered!
You say, “The Ring is getting heavy.”
Legolas ssays, “I hear something approaching.”
Boromir shouts, “Train to crypt room!”
Gimli says, “Look out! A Orc is incoming!”
/assist gimli
n orc says, “It’s Hobbits like you that have ruined your own lands! You’ll not ruin mine!”
/con
An orc looks at you threateningly - you should win this fight, but it’s not certain.
/a
You hit an orc for 4 points of damage!
An orc swings at you, but misses!
Legolas pierces an orc for 32 points of damage!
Legolas has slain an orc!
You have gained group experience!
Your faction standing with Orcs of Moria got worse.
Your faction standing with Mordor got worse.
Your faction standing with The Fellowship got better.
A cave troll says, “grrooooowwwwwl!”
/con
A cave troll looks at you threateningly - what would you like your tombstone to say?
/a
You hit a cave troll for 5 points of damage!
A cave troll pierces you for 109 points of damage!
You have been knocked unconscious!
Gimli has slain a cave troll!
You gain group experience!
You have reached a new level!
Welcome to Level 5!
/shout Ding!
Samwise shouts, “Gratz!”
Legolas shouts, “Gratz!”
Pippin shouts, “you sux0r!”
You are conscious again.
/petition I wish the Ring had never come to me!
Gollum tells you, “Then give Precioussss back, evil Bagginssss!”
/who gollum all
[Level 22 Rogue] Gollum (Obsessed Ringbearers) zone: moria
There is 1 player who matches your search criteria.
/tell gandalf Gollum’s following us!
Gandalf shrugs.
Merry says, “What’s THAT??”
Gandalf says, “It’s a balrog! Run!”
You are encumbered!
/g I need a SOW!
You are encumbered!
Gandalf shouts, “You shall not pass!”
Gandalf hits a balrog for 588 points of damage!
A balrog hits Gandalf for 834 points of damage!
Gandalf has slain a balrog!
You get group experience!
Your faction standing with Creatures of Shadow and Flame got worse.
Your faction standing with Tolkein Geeks got better.
Your faction standing with The Fellowship got better.
Gandalf has died!
/shout Noooooooooooooooooooo!
Aragorn says “We have to get out of here!”
ZONING, PLEASE WAIT…
You have entered The Rocky Outcropping.
Gandlaf tells you, “Can I get a rez? My body’s in Moria and I’m in Rohan!”
“Is that so, Miss Lemon?” M. Frodot turned about in his chair to look at her, demi-tasse poised halfway between his lips and the saucer on the desk in front of him. “You did not tell me, did you, that I had further appointments aujourd’hui?”
“The gentleman does not have an appointment, Mister Frodot.” She pressed her lips together disapprovingly. “I suggested he might make one, but he insisted it is a most urgent matter.”
“I say!” exclaimed Pippin from the sofa, in between puffs of pipeweed. “What dashed rotten luck, to arrive unexpectedly in the middle of tea-time and demand…”
“Tais-toi, you fool of the Took,” Frodot said, though not ungently. He replaced the cup in its saucer and laced his fingers together over his waistcoat. “Alors, Miss Lemon, you may show him in.”
Miss Lemon stood aside and allowed the tall, bearded man in the pointed hat to enter the room. “Mister Gandalf LeGrey.” Behind his back she wrinkled her nose faintly in distaste.
The gentleman so announced strode across the room, staff thumping against the carpet. “Thank you for seeing me, Mister Frodot,” he said. His well-spoken, well-mannered voice was quite at odds with his disheveled appearance and long, unkempt beard rather like a charicature of a Balliol College professor which had gotten out of hand.
Instinctively Frodot began to stroke his perfectly groomed moustaches, and contemplated the gloriousness of his equally well-groomed barefeet beneath the desk. “Not at all, m’sieur. Won’t you please sit down?”
“Would the gentleman care for some tea?” Miss Lemon inquired sharply from the doorway. “Or a coffee, perhaps?”
LeGrey sat down and shook his head. Frodot raised one eyebrow at her and said, “Merci, Miss Lemon, that will be all. You may return to your making of the filing system which perfectly organizes the – comme on dit? – ‘sundering’ of the elves.” She pressed her lips together once again and shut the door behind her as Frodot’s attention returned to his visitor. “Now, my good sir, how may I be of service?”
“I have a job for you, Mister Frodot.”
“And what sort of job is it you have, m’sieur?”
“I want you to lose something for me.”
Frodot did not respond immediately. “A most intriguing proposition, but I do not see how I can help. You do understand that I have the skill at finding that which is missing, not the other way around?”
“That I do indeed, Mister Frodot,” LeGrey replied, leaning over the desk. “I realize that this is not your speciality, but if anyone can figure out how to lose this particular. . . item, with no one being the wiser, it is you. You have a reputation for being the cleverest elvish detective that ever --”
“Bon Dieu,” Frodot interrupted, fuming, “I am not elvish, I am an 'alfling!”
“Whatever you say, Mister Frodot, but you come very highly recommended. Will you take the job?”
“Et bien, what is it you wish me to lose for you, then?”
“This.” LeGrey drew a wad of cloth from his sleeve and, laying it on the desk, carefully unfolded it without touching the contents. Within the mass of white silk lay a plain gold ring.
Pippin joined them at the desk. “I say, that’s a jolly handsome ring. But why on earth can’t you lose it yourself?”
“Do not tempt me, Master Took!” LeGrey thundered.
“Oui, Pippin, you must exercise the little grey cells,” Frodot berated him. “It is clear from M. le Grey’s behavior that this is one of the rings de puissance – a ring of Power.”
LeGrey jumped to his feet and stared down at him in amazement. “That’s incredible, Mister Frodot; you’re absolutely right. How did you know?”
“Order and method, my dear M. le Grey,” Frodot replied with a wink, tapping his forehead. “Now, you must tell me one more thing: where is it you should like for it to be disposed?”
LeGrey collapsed into his chair and pulled a face. It was some moments before he spoke. “The Land of Mordor,” he intoned.
“Murder?” Pippin squeaked. “I say, that’s smashing. If there’s one thing Frodot knows, it’s murder! When do we leave?”
I never thought something like this would ever happen to me, but a few weeks ago I had sex with a witch. Not just any witch, an elf witch. I was out hiking by myself, minding my own business when all of the sudden there she was, standing in front of me. She said something in a different language, Elven I guess, and since I didn’t understand, I just stood there staring at her. She was, thin, had huge breasts (that I’m sure were real), and beautiful pointed ears that peeked out from under her long blonde hair. She repeated whatever she said and stepped very close to me, with her face about a foot away from me.
Much to her surprise, and more to my own, I kissed her. I don’t know why I did, I just did. Maybe she cast a spell on me, I don’t know. But I did it. She pulled away and gave me an angry look, but then it softened a bit and planted her lips back on mine. She kissed me llike she was hungry, and I immediately grew hard as a rock. In one swift movement, she slipped her cloak off and much to my delight she was completely naked! Her ivory white skin shone in the dim light of the forest. Her nipples, hard and erect, begged to be sucked…
A snippet from Sauron’s Ring of Power Project seat-of-the-pants Software Requirements Doc, and Bug Tracking Database, etc.
…
23.3.1 INVISIBILITY
When the user places the Ring on any finger (or thumb), he/she is to be rendered invisible, at least to other front end users. Back end specifics: the user shall actually be placed in an ethereal state, and shall be perfectly visible to any other users with admin-level ethereal privileges.
23.3.1.1 Use the Ring is Limited
Ring database to keep a count of occasions on which user wears Ring. If user Ring tally grows too high (see initial design specs), user loses front end privileges and transfers (without notice) to ethereal-only account. (Note: in these cases, user account privileges to become subservient to superadmin user, that is to say, ME - <S’ron - 11/01/1757 SA>)
BUG 3044
Entered by: Baggins, Bilbo (bbaggins)
Date: 4/5/2959 TA
Description: put ring on finger, but still partially visible in sunlight to front end users (even those with no ethereal-level access)
Steps to Reproduce: stand in sunlight, preferably near observant front-end witnesses (in my case, a guardhouse full of orcs! Yikes! This is a critical bug, team). Place ring on finger. Stand in direct sunlight. Move frenetically to attract attention. Confirm front end witnesses notice.
any other software people wanna take this ball and run with it?
I drive my black Lexxus to the Hobbit Hole Club on the Shire. I snort some blow off the dashboard as I’m driving. I call Sam on my cell.
"Sam," I say, "It's Frodo. Come to the Hole."
"What for?' says Sam. He's still half asleep.
"We're going to meet Gandalf."
"Does he have any Elf-blow?"
"He's always got Elf-blow."
"Christ my fucking head hurts. I did WAY too much crank last night."
"I told you not to buy crank from those dwarves."
"What does Gandolf want?
"I don't know. Something about a ring."
"What kind of ring? Does it have any diamonds?
"It's just a plain gold ring."
"Gold is out this year. It has to have diamonds."
"Have you seen Merry? I ask, although I know that Merry's head is in my freezer.
"The last time I saw him was two days ago," says Sam, "He was drinking Elvenschlager and doing blow. He and pippen said they were going to Pippen's place to fuck."
"I thought Pippen wasn't going to fuck guys any more."
"Pippen fucks anything. I heard he fucked an ORC once."
"Come to the Hole," I say again.
I hang up the phone. The E is kicking in as I go into the club. Echo and the Bunnymen is playing through the speakers. I go to the bar and order an Elvenschlager. Twenty-five gold pieces a bottle.
I see Gandalf sitting at a table. He's wearing an Armani robe, black. 2000 Gold pieces. CK wizard's hat, 500 gold pieces. Bruno Magli boots, 100 gold pieces. He's snorting elf blow off the table. He looks up and sees me.
"Did you bring it?" he asks
"Bring what?"
"The ring."
"I shot Merry in the eyes with a nail gun last night. Then I cut off his head and stuck it in my freezer."
"Very funny," says Gandalf, "Where is the Ring?"
based upon The Fellowship of the Ring, Book I, Chapter II, “The Shadow of the Past”)
… when he removed the ring from the hearth with the tongs, the old wizard who called himself Gandalf the Grey in almost perverse defiance of the rainbow of other designations he might have chosen, there being only two other human wizards of any repute in all the lands of Middle-Earth, those – the wizards, not the lands – being know as White and Brown, which, though not Grey, are like grey in that they are not colourful, thereby suggesting the existence of a sort of colour-blindness inherent in the magickal professions, this wizard Gandalf the Grey, Dullest of the Dun-Coloured, held up the fire-tested ring and took in his fingers almost at once, much to the surprise of the young, tween-ish as it were, hobbit Frodo Baggins of Bag-End, nephew and sole heir of that Other Famous Hobbit Bilbo, author of that famed dissertation on dwarves and dragons, mountains and mountains of treasure, dark things under mountains and rings found there as well, the same ring which the wizened wizard had momentarily rescued from the hearth-fire, the Red Book of Westmarch which, in this moment between hobbit and wizard, had yet to be completed and disseminated but the story of which was nevertheless known to them both in some fashion, this Frodo gasped.
“It is quite not-warm to the touch, against all reason, it having been placed in the fire,” said Gandalf. “Take it.” The wizard dropped the ring into the reluctantly-outstretched and shrinking palm, which, had it shrunk completely would have caused the not-hot ring to fall the floor and roll off into some forgotten corner of the hobbit-hole, there to lay for another two and a half thousand years of obscurity before being re-discovered which, in the retrospect of the incident at Bree to come might have been preferable to all of those concerned save Gandalf himself, who was not – or should we say, will not be – at Bree, but nonetheless understood the greater of the two evils involved in letting this ring lie under some piece of hobbit furniture, of the hobbit. In the hand of Frodo the ring seemed to have become thicker and heavier than ever, weighing on him like the belch of a Nazgul only he didn’t yet know what a Nazgul was but if he did he would have made this analogy anyway and besides I am the author, he who lays out the story before you in whatever order and manner desired by me, the author, so the reader is invited to sit back and trust this author’s instincts and insights and to desist from being so critical otherwise your face will freeze that way.
Frodo now saw fine lines, finer than the finest penstrokes, finer than finest hair of the finest of elves of Rivendell or Lothlorien, though the comparison fails when one has never seen elven hair, but there it is – these lines of fire, not-hot, seemed to form letters of a flowing script which shone piercingly bright and yet remote as if out of a great depth, near but far, close but distant, white-hot yet cold, legible but incomprehensible, a language without speech, or speech which must not be spoken outside the Dark Land of its speakers, lest the long shadows of evil cast themselves even wider over Middle-Earth, as Sauron the Dark Lord wished to do, he who is not to be confused with Saruman the White, the sole un-dun wizard and Gandalf’s fellow, he, Saruman, secretly in league with Sauron but not-Sauron, leading one to wonder how or why or when the author was led to give such similar names to two of his characters, if not to suggest a metophorical identity between them, between the flesh of Saruman and the spirit of Sauron, bodiless these last three thousand years without the Ring he so desperately seeks because, as one of the noble Teemings observed quite rightly whether in this thread or another on the same topic, evil wizards are given to imbuing a small, easily-lost object with all of their evil powers and nature, depending upon such items to maintain their very existence.
“I cannot read these letters,” said Frodo in a quavering voice, or rather in semi-hemi-demiquaver as he had been taught by his voice coach, thereby adding to the drama of the moment, though not as much as the Bene Gesserit Voice would have allowed, but his coach had either been unwilling or unable to teach him, a male, such things as only women and Reverend Mothers could learn, unless he were the kwitsatz hobbit-rach, but that, too, is a story which has been referred to elsewhere, definitely in this thread this time, not in another like it, and will not be told or otherwise referred to again here.
“No, but I can,” said Gandalf, priding himself on being a know-it-all relative to Shire-bound hobbits, who in turned prided themselves on knowing nothing of the world beyond the Shire’s bounds, adventures and fame and notoreity being contrary to hobbit custom, though as we have seen this custom is almost flagrantly violated by the likes of Bilbo and, as we will see in due course, Frodo himself. "In the Common Tongue, this is close enough to what it says:
One Ring to rule them all,
The rings given to all the races,
To all of the Elves under the sky,
In Rivendell and Lothlorien,
From Gondor to the Grey Havens;
To dwarves in their halls of stone,
Caring not for life and sun
But digging into dark holes where Balrog’s lie in wait,
To men, mortals doomed to die,
But excluding hobbits, for whom no rings were made
A race of no consequence,
Unknown until the One Ring was lost and re-discovered,
And then re-re-discovered under a mountain,
One Ring to find them –"
“All of that on a ring?” Frodo exclaimed, in bewilderment and disbelief, not willing to be fooled again as he had been in the past, remembering the half-convincing stories of North Farthing aggression his mother had told him as She Lay Dying in the Chicasaw Hospital, way over South Farthing way, talking and talking about the war and the fall of the South and someplace called Vicksburg and how the South Farthing would rise again and even Bindbale Wood would not stand against it, unlike the wood which had risen against Macbeth, as prophesied by the three witches, to destroy him, such a wood, and nothing like it, would fend off the South again.
“Shut yo mouth,” Gandalf drawled. "Wood an’ thatch of a hobbit-hole kin burn, so Ah’d advise yew not to inner-upt me agin. Now, where were we? That’s right:
One Ring to find them. . ."
[My apologies to those two of the noble Teemings whose ideas and references are included here. Later today I will page back through this thread, and the other like, and mention their names, eluding me at the moment, in a later posting.]
The Fall of Boromir - by Joseph Heller
“Help him!” sobbed Pippin, “Help him!”
“Help who?”, replied Strider. Louder still, “Help who?”
“The heir to the throne of Gondor! Help the heir to the throne of Gondor!”
“I’m heir to the throne of Gondor!”, yelled Strider right back at him, “I’m heir to the throne of Gondor, I’m all right, I’m all right.”
“Then help him, help him.” Pippin begged.
And Boromir lay dying on his back.
Forum: General Questions
Thread Starter: Frodo23 (Post count: 3)
Title: How does on go about destroying a ring
Thread: Hey guys, my uncle recently gave me this wierd ring and I want to get rid of it. When I put it on, I get all invisbile (sp?) and freaky and stuff. I tried melting it and like cutting it but its too hard. Any suggestions.
Johnz: Well, you could hop on an eagle and drop it off into Mount Doom, thats pretty certain to destry it.
Feldor: Hey, why dont you dorp it into mount doom.
Feldor: Damn simulpost.
Carman: Could you give us a bit more information about the ring? What is it made of, do you know any history about it?
Frodo23: Yeah, I think the ring is gold but it might just be gold plated. My uncle said something about getting it from second hand from this old guy living in a lake. Then again, my uncle also smoked a lot of pipeweed. Well, I can’t ask him now since hes buggered off to Rivendell for a holiday.
Boogles: Well, you could ship it off to me, Im always on the look out for some eclectic jewelry.
Boogles: Well, you could ship it off to me, Im always on the look out for some eclectic jewelry.
Boogles: Well, you could ship it off to me, Im always on the look out for some eclectic jewelry.
Johnz: Why isn’t anybody listening to me?
Justhink: The posession of a ring is the symbolic domination of a ring bearers responsibility over the rights of the non-ring wearing prolateariat (sp?) Or put in another way. those who need the ring will find a way to overcome the dominant responsibility of emasculation. It is clear that the female kind is inferior. To those who posess, such a right, it is logicaly paradoxical that rings should belong to their “owner”.
Frodo23: Well, thanks guys, I think I’m just going to try and donate the ring to the local St vincents. Its just too much of a bother to keep.
Gandalfz: Hey, it’s possible that the ring you have is the one ring. If this ring gets into the wrong hands, it could mean the destruction of the world!!!
<at this point, the board crashes and this thred is lost into obscurity>
Disclaimer: these r not my characters. im borowing them from Tolkin.
There were alot of hobbits in the shire. One of them is Frodo Baggins.Hes pretty young, and has really nice blue eyes. His uncle, who was having a party 'cause he was really old, had a scary ring. He didnt want it anymore so he gave it to Frodo. Gandalf, a wizard, told Frodo it was an evil wring so never put it on.
But the ring was really bad, so he had to get rid of it. So he and his friend Sam, and a couple other hobbits set off to throw it into some lava or something. Things went ok, until they ran into the ring wrathes who tried to kill them. These were sort of ghost things, who wear all black. The wrathes followed the hobbits
all the way to the Prancin Pony, and they made the wall fall on the nice guard and killed him.
While in the PP the Hobbits met Stryder. He was a really nobel man who risked his own life to keep the Hobbits safe. Unfortunately they got attacked on some cliff and Frodo got hurt, which was bad 'cause he was the one with the ring.
But Stryders girlfriend, Arwin helped him. She was a really pretty elf, wit dark hair an pointed ears. She made the wrathes go away. But then she and Stryder, who was tall dark an hansome were able to be reunitted.
They are really in love, even though they’re from different worlds. He’s a person and she’s an elf, and socity probly frowns on that sort of thing. But they loved each other so much that it didn’t matter. Thier pure love transended the laws. He took her into his arms and gave her a long kiss. Then she gave him this thing thats supposed to be her imorality. Thats about the most romantic thing ever!
from " Endless Love" a story from a 13-year-old Strider/Arwen shipper fanfic writer
Howard: What is it, Bababooie Baggins? Retarded halfling bowling, again? We did that bit two days ago. I want the Scores girls.
Gary: Ok, boff, we’ve got these two chicks waiting to come on to plug something about a ring.
Howard: Well, bring them in you idiot!
Robin: Hee hee hee hee.
Howard: Ok, there’s these two really hot chicks walking in. The blonde one has a really huge rack and the other looks just like Liv Tyler, swear to God! Hey, what are your names?
Arwen: I’m Arwen and she’s Galadriel.
Howard: So, Arwen, huh? Jeez, that’s such a stripper name. You’re really hot. You must’ve been molested as a child or something.
Arwen: Umm, no.
Howard: Oh come on. All the really hot strippers have really messed up childhoods. So, are you two lesbians? I want you two to kiss each other.
Robin: Hee hee hee!
Arwen: We’re not lesbians.
Howard: Jeez, you’re hot. You two should be lesbians. How can you look at each other and not want to jump each other? Wow, I’m already getting aroused! Folks, there’s a piece of wood under this console and I’m totally pleasuring myself right now. So, are you two gonna strip down?
Both girls: No!
Howard: Oh come on! How about just down to bra and panties? Please? Come on! Bababooie, why do you keep booking these chicks that won’t strip? I’m about to throw you two out… Listen, if you want the plug I’m going to need something. How about just if the two of you hug and make out a little? No? Ok, just a hug then! Hey, they’re really doing it. It’s so hot! Wow, now get into it. Kiss each other! What? That’s it? Aww, you want a plug for that? Ok, just a quick one then.
Arwen: We need some men to volunteer to carry a ring to Mordor and cast it into Mount Doom…
Howard: Ok, that’s all you get for now. I need you two to really make out and I’ll give you a second plug. Wait, don’t leave. Damn, they’re gone!
Robin: Hee hee hee.
Howard: Those two were really hot, so check them out on my E show. And shut up, Jackie, I’ll do your stupid Jokeman plugs later.
I am sitting in Mindy’s along about a Tuesday night, enjoying the liver and onions, which is always a popular way to pass the time at Mindy’s, when a commotion stirs up the likes of which I do not see since the days of the Tammany Hall campaign rallies.
It seems many of the citizens in Mindy’s take exception to the arrival of two or three guys, the likes of which I never see before along Broadway.
They are maybe three feet high, with feet the size of frying pans, and they dress in capes and they all carry swords, which I find unusual, as most guys I know find swords unwieldy, and prefer a seven-inch shiv if they plan to go about bladed up. Of course, I never carry weapons of any kind, myself, but I hear that a seven-inch shiv fits nicely up the sleeve, and feels good in the hand, if they balance it properly. It is also more gentlemanly than a razor in the shoe-tip, although by and large such dastardly things are more popular in Brooklyn, where less civilized citizens live.
But these half-pints with the swords and the large dogs are getting the business no little from guys the likes of Vinnie Pinstripes and Manhattan Mike. They insist they only wish to rest a bit before they continue their quest, and allow me to say right now that if I have feet that big and have to walk about more than somewhat, I will wish to rest every other block or so. But Vinnie Pinstripes says to them like this:
“Oho,” he says, “I am sure one of you guys is Harry the Hobbit, who I never see before, but who I understand makes my ever-loving doll, Miss Angela Marston, drop me like a hot rock six weeks ago.”
It seems that Harry the Hobbit makes mention of a ring, and that Miss Angela Marston seems to think that it is a marriage proposal. When she finds out it is no such thing, Miss Angela Marston’s heart breaks, and Vinnie Pinstripes vows to find Harry the Hobbit and rough him up no little, mostly for breaking Miss Angela Marston’s heart, but also for the way it makes Vinnie Pinstripes look, as he never mentions a ring to his ever-loving doll in seven long years.
Personally, I think Vinnie Pinstripes barks up the wrong tree, as I understand it is actually a guy known here and there as Crazy Gollum who spreads rumors about rings around and about, but I do not say anything as it may cause me to involve myself more than somewhat in the fracas, and I try to avoid involvement in most things along Broadway, and especially a fracas.
Just as it is about to come to blows, with the little guys getting the worst of it, there is a big whoof and a poom sound, and even though such explosions are not rare in Mindy’s kitchen, or even the dining room, for that matter, this whoof-and-poom causes everyone to stand still. Mostly it is because of the smell of brimstone, which is by no means on Mindy’s bill of fare, but it is also because after the whoof-and-poom a tall guy with long gray whiskers down to where his belt buckle would be if he wore a belt is standing in the middle of Mindy’s dining room, almost knocking a busboy off his pins.
I recognize this guy as the Great Gandalf, who passes himself off as a wizard for a while, but who then becomes a guest of the governor, and when he gets back out on the street, he finds that the wizard dodge has gone the way of the flea circus. The Great Gandalf is not seen much since then, although I hear he has a fortune-telling booth at Coney Island, although I never see it myself, as I try to avoid fresh sea air at all costs.
Well, the Great Gandalf seems ready to go back to the wizarding dodge once again, because he tricks himself out in a robe with stars and planets and I do not know what all covering it, and he carries a big staff that he points at Vinnie Pinstripes. A bolt of lightning shoots out the end of this staff and parts Vinnie’s hair, causing one and all, and especially Vinnie Pinstripes, to duck under whatever table is nearest to them.
I do not wish to stick around, as I am certain that the local gendarmes will show up soon, and gendarmes are something I wish to avoid, but the Great Gandalf stands between me and the front door, and Vinnie Pinstripes and the little big-footed guys stand between me and the kitchen door. It is because of my situation that I have a good view of what happens next.
“What are they Spockolas?” Captain James Baggins of the starship Partyprize asked, staring at the image of the 9 wraithships pursuing them on the screen.
“They’re life, but not as we know it,” Spockolas replied in his cold emotionless voice.
Captain Baggins gritted his teeth in frustration. Ever since he’d found the ring on Shire Beta 6 (known to the locals as Bag End) the wraith ships had been following them.
“Recommendations gentelmen?” the Captain spat out.
“Don’t ask me Jim, I’m a Dwarf not a prophet,” Dr. “Bones” McGimli repiled.
“I’d advise we head for Eriador Alpha 7,” Spockolas replied.
“The planet known as Rivendell? Why?” the Captain asked.
“My father Selrond* lives there. He’s an expert on ancient artifacts.”
“So be it. Mr Sulubuck, set course for Eriador Alpha 7.”
“Aye Captain,” Sulubuck replied.
Captain Baggins activated the intercom. “Bridge to Engineering, Merrty we need warp 9.9 and we need it now.”
“I’m givin’ you all the power we’ve got, Cap’n,” Merrty repied in his thick Tookish accent.
“I need more power Merrty,” the Captain gritted.
“Och, my poor wee bairns,” Merrty lamented
Coming soon: Star Trek: The Next Ring
Yeah, I know Elrond wasn’t Legolas’s father, so sue me.
INTERIOR: Mines of Moria – Outside Balin’s Tomb – The Bridge of Khazad-Dûm
GANDALF: You shall not pass!
BALROG: If you only knew the power of the dark side. Saruman never told you what happened to your father.
GANDALF: He told me enough! He told me you killed him.
BALROG: No. I am your father.
Shocked, Gandalf looks at Balrog in utter disbelief.
GANDALF: No. No. That’s not true! That’s impossible!
BALROG: Search your feelings. You know it to be true.
GANDALF: No! No! No!
BALROG: Gandalf. You can destroy Sauron. He has foreseen this. It is your destiny. Join me, and we can rule Middle Earth as father and son. Come with me. It’s the only way.
Balrog puts away his sword and holds his hand out to Gandalf. A calm comes over Gandalf, and he makes a decision. In the next instant he steps off the stone bridge into space. The Dark Lord looks over the platform and sees Gandalf falling far below. The wind begins to blow at Balrog's smokey wings and the torrent finally forces him back, away from the edge. The wind soon fades and the wounded Istari begins to drop fast, unable to grab onto anything to break his fall.
George Lucas (new)
ARAGORN : It is not disrespect, Master, it is the truth.
GANDALF : From your point of view…
ARAGORN : The hobbit is dangerous…they all sense it. Why can’t you?
GANDALF : His fate is uncertain, not dangerous. Elrond’s Council will decide Frodo’s future…that should be enough for you. Now get on board!
ARAGORN reluctantly boards the Rivendell boat followed by MERRY. GANDALF goes over to FRODO.
FRODO : Gandalf, sir, I do not wish to be a problem.
GANDALF : You won’t be, Frodie…I’m not allowed to train you, so I want you to watch me and be mindful…always remember, your focus determines your reality. Stay close to me and you will be safe.
FRODO : Master, sir…I’ve been wondering…what are midi-chlorians?
GANDALF : Midi-chlorians are a microcopic lifeform that reside within all living cells and communicates with Magic and the Ring.
FRODO : They live inside of me?
GANDALF : In your cells. We are symbionts with the midi-chlorians.
FRODO : Symbionts?
GANDALF : Life forms living together for mutual advantage. Without the midi-chlorians, life could not exist, and we would have no knowledge of Magic. They continually speak to you, telling you the will of Magic.
FRODO : They do??
GANDALF : When you learn to quiet your mind, you will hear them speaking to you.
FRODO : I don’t understand.
GANDALF : With time and training, Frodie…you will.
