Registered: Mar 2002
Location: Maryland, USA
Posts: 247

....What would it look like?

Ernest Hemingway

It was very late and everyone had left the hall except an old man who sat in the shadows the leaves of the old Mallorn made against the moonlight. The two elves inside the hall knew that the old man was a little drunk, and while he usually was quiet and kept to himself they knew that if he became too drunk he would start setting things on fire, so they kept watch on him.
“He’s drunk,” one elf said.

“What do you care?”

“He’s muttering about the secret fire.”

“Leave him alone. He used to carry a ring.”

“He’ll stay all night. He should never have been rebodied.”

The old man rapped on the table with his goblet. The younger elf went over to him.

“What do you want?”

The old man looked at him. “Another miruvor.”

“You’ll be drunk,” the elf said. The old man looked at him. The elf went away.

“Look at his bushy eyebrows,” he said to his colleague. “There is nothing as nasty as an old Man. He’ll stay all night and I’ll never get any sleep.”

The elf took the bottle of miruvor from the counter inside the hall and marched to the old man’s table. He poured the goblet full.

“You should never have been rebodied,” he said to the old man.



Mark Twain

NOTICE:

Persons attempting to resolve the question of Balrog wings by means of this narrative will be prosecuted; persons attempting to define the nature of Tom Bombadil will be banished; persons attempting to find allegory in it will be shot.
BY ORDER OF THE AUTHOR,
Per G.G., Chief of Ordnance.

FOREWORD:

In this book a number of dialects are used, to wit: the Quenya Elvish dialect; the extremest form of the Rhovanion dialect; the ordinary Sindarin dialect; and four modified varieties of this last. The shadings have not been done in a haphazard fashion, or by guesswork; but painstakingly, and with the trustworthy guidance and support of personal familiarity with these several forms of speech.

I make this explanation for the reason that without it many readers would suppose that all these characters were trying to talk alike and not succeeding.
THE AUTHOR.

CHAPTER 1

You don’t know about me without you have read a book by the name of The Red Book of Westmarch; but that ain’t no matter. That book was made by Mr. Frodo Baggins and his Uncle Bilbo, and they told the truth, mainly. There was things which they stretched, but mostly they told the truth. That is nothing. I never seen anybody but lied one time or another, without it was the Lady Galadriel, or Elrond, or maybe Gandalf. The Lady Galadriel – the Lady of Lothlorien, she is – and Elrond, and the wizard Gandalf is all told about in that book, which is mostly a true book, with some stretchers, as I said before.


Heh, anybody have any others?

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Registered: Nov 2000
Location: Central Pennsylvania
Posts: 1985

If I were to tell you the true story behind the unmaking of that ring...that ring!...you would think me mad. Horrors such as are scribed in ancient tomes of eldritch evil cannot compare to the terror...the cruel, cold, braincrushing terror!...that we felt in the lair of that foul spirit which raimed itself in arachnid form, that vile scavenger, that horrid arcane leech lingering at the border's of Sauron's Black Land...

-The Ring-Journal of an Anonymous Hobbit, by H.P. Lovecraft

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Registered: Mar 1999
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Posts: 1328

If it was written by Robert Jordan it would be 10 books long.

::coughhackcough::

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Registered: Apr 1999
Location: austin tx usa
Posts: 2864

LOTR by Mickey Spillane:

I was sitting by the fire, puffing on a pipe, still nursing a hangover from the ale-fest the night before, when HE walked in.

He had a long white beard, a magical staff, and legs that youd like to eat on toast.

"Are you Frodo Baggins," he intoned.

"I might be," I said. "Who's asking?"

"My name is Gandalf, Mr. Baggins. And I need your help."

I looked him over. "Lots of people need my help. What makes YOU special?"

"Well, Mr. Baggins... there is a certain piece of jewelry. If it fell into the wrong hands, it could prove... troublesome. I need someone to take this ring to Mount Doom, where it can be destroyed."

I stuck some more weed in my pipe, and said, "Look, doll, let's get one thing straight- you can't come into my hole, tell me a fairy-tale about a magic ring, bat those pretty eyelids, and have me fall at your feet. I stick my neck out for nobody."

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Registered: Nov 2000
Location: Central Pennsylvania
Posts: 1985

quote:

---

Originally posted by Hello Again
If it was written by Robert Jordan it would be 10 books long.

::coughhackcough::

---

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Registered: Nov 2000
Location: Central Pennsylvania
Posts: 1985

Eowyn felt her heart flutter when she saw him. His raven hair flew in the breeze off the plain, and his piercing eyes caught her gaze as if by magic. He bore a kingly attitude; surely he was a prince. Her mind turned to forbidden things, things which would be forbidden to the King's niece, but surely allowed for a free shieldmaiden. She knew that she was made to love this ranger.
-Mark of the King, Danielle Steele

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Registered: Nov 2000
Location: Montreal, QC
Posts: 3522

Smeagol writhed in corruption, his lifelong attempts to collectivize the Hobbit economy had twisted his soul and body and brought ruin to the Shire. "Precious," he muttered. "Precious colective good giving according to need." He shuddered at the thought of the unbroken individual standing proudly over a conquered plain with the Ring, and felt jealous that the wholesome power could not be his.

-Lord of the Rings, by Ayn Rand.

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Registered: Aug 2000
Location: New Jersey
Posts: 483

"Gandalf, Gandalf! Take the ring!
I am too small to carry this thing!"

"I can not, will not hold the One.
You have a slim chance, but I have none.
I will not take it on a boat,
I will not take it across a moat.
I cannot take it under Moria,
that's one thing I can't do for ya.
I would not bring it into Mordor,
I would not make it to the border."

-excerpt from Dr. Suess's FOTR.

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Registered: Mar 1999
Location: Desert Idaho
Posts: 371

LotR by Terry Brooks

Never gets written.

No source material.

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Registered: Mar 2002
Location: Maryland, USA
Posts: 247

Ah, I see we are off to a great start! Keep them coming...


Ray Bradbury

In which Gandalf gains a new perspective on his heretofore unexamined mission:

It was a pleasure to burn.

It was a special pleasure to see Hobbits eaten, to see them blackened and changed. With the wooden staff in his fists, with this great python spitting its venomous pitch upon the Shire, the blood pounded in his head, and his hands were the hands of some amazing conductor playing all the symphonies of blazing and burning to bring down the tatters and charcoal ruins of history. With his pointed hat on his wizened head, and his eyes all orange flame with the thought of what came next, he mumbled a Word of Command and the Great Smials jumped up in a gorging fire that burned the evening sky red and yellow and black. He strode in a swarm of fireflies. He wanted above all, like the old joke, to shove a haunch of mutton on a spit in the furnace, while the flapping, ridiculous Hobbits died on the porch and lawn of the great Hobbit-hole. While the Hobbits went up in greasy, sparkling whirls that blew away on a wind turned dark with burning.

Gandalf grinned the fierce grin of all men singed and driven back by flame. Fools of Tooks! he thought with an inward chuckle, as the smell of burnt foot-hair filled his nostrils, as welcome as the smell of a fresh-baked apple pie cooling on the sill.

He knew that when he returned to Lothlórien, he might wink at himself, a minstrel man, burnt-corked, in the Mirror of Galadriel. Later, going to sleep, he would feel the fiery smile still gripped by his face muscles, in the dark. It never went away, that smile, it never ever went away, as long as he remembered.

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Registered: Apr 2001
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What a great thread idea. I only wish I knew this scene to participate. Great work so far stylistically though - Kudos to all.

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Registered: Apr 2001
Location: St. Louis, MO
Posts: 901

The Lord of the Rings
or The Land of Middle-earth
by W.S. Gilbert and Arthur Sullivan

SCENE. -- Front yard of Bag End in Hobbiton, the Shire. Various hobbits discovered standing and sitting in various attitudes suggested by Rankin-Bass films and trippy illustrations from the 1970s.

CHORUS OF HOBBITS.

If you want to know who we are,
We are gentlemen of the Shire;
In many an inn and bar,
By many an alehouse fire,
We dine on six meals a day;
Our attitude's bright and gay;
But we don't mean it that way, oh!
If you think we are cutesy-poo,
Like an Ewok or Jar-Jar Binks,
You don't know what we do:
When we don't smokes, we drinks!
Our dwelling is Hobbiton;
We only stand three foot one;
We use evil rings for fun, oh, oh!
We use evil rings for fun!
If you want to know who we are,
We are gentlemen of the Shire;
In inn and bar, by alehouse fire;
In many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many a bar, oh, oh, oh, oh!
In inn and bar, by alehouse fire!

Enter Gandalf in great excitement. He carries a pack of fireworks on his back and a staff in his hand.

RECIT. -- GANDALF

Gentlemen, I pray you tell me
Where a gentle hobbit dwelleth, named Frodo,
The ward of Bilbo?
In pity speak, oh speak, I pray you!

TED SANDYMAN. Why, who are you who ask this question?
GANDALF. Come gather round me, and I'll tell you!

SONG and CHORUS -- GANDALF.

A wand'ring wizard I,
A thing of spells and magic,
Of stories dark and tragic,
Of counsel I'll prophesy...

That's where inspiration flagged. Although I could post the touching "Departure from Rivendell" scene...

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Registered: May 2001
Location: Arty Tech Barn
Posts: 1302

LOTR by “Cesil”

Dear Cesil: Is it true that Frodo lost the ring to Gollum? We were arguing about it during a study session at the local brewery, when these guys dressed like orcs let it slip that Frodo bit his own finger off, and pushed Gollum in Mount Doom so there was no evidence. Is Frodo the next Dark Lord? Anxious in Hobbiton

Dear Anxious,

You think if I knew the whereabouts of the ring I’d tell a puling college student? There have been crackpot doom theories (get it?) about the ring ever since it was lost in the last age. It’s been a magnet for PBS loons when anyone disappears in a birthday party or a black rider is seen astride a flying saucer.

Let’s set the record straight with a few facts: After Frodo was exhumed in the Grey Havens following the suspicious circumstances of his “fading,” particular attention was paid to the manner in which his finger had been severed. It was the opinions of “experts” that the tooth scrapes on the joint were consistent with teeth like Gollum’s--worn by gnawing and grinding on bones. However the elves, having ignored the valuable lessons on interrogation taught by the Numenoreans, failed to follow up with questions regarding similar markings on various of Frodo’s toes. Hence the persisting rumors.

No doubt you’re hoping that the ring was finally put to bed in the flames of Mordor--lo those many years ago--but that’s not certain. There are unsubstantiated rumors that the nursery rhyme from the Middle Ages “Ring around the Rosie” is about the destruction caused by Sam Gamgee’s wife Rosie when entrusted with care of the ring while Sam was off fighting wiccans and environmentalists who had risen in the ruins of the witch kingdom Angmar.

Wagner’s famous “Ring Cycle” is held by certain cultists to be a covert reference to the growing power of the one ring--soon to be passed to the Kaiser, and subsequently Adolf Hitler. Music lovers claim the evil influence of Isildur’s Bane pervades Wagner’s music, but between you and me, Anxious, it doesn’t take much miscalculation to make opera sound like crud.

Finally, those whacky New Age pranksters claim that the metal from the one ring flowed into the magma of Mount Doom, and is now present in minute quantities in every volcanic eruption—thereby gradually turning the whole of humankind into dark lords. This goes a long way toward explaining prime time TV.

But in conclusion we’ll have to admit that unless it’s hidden in a yet another unfound Nazi stash, part of the crown jewels, or that talisman the Dalai Lama keeps around his neck, the one ring of power will just remain a happy memory.

-- CESIL

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Registered: Aug 2000
Location: Tokyo
Posts: 2320

LoTR written by *shudder* Piers Anthony.

Forget it, that's for stronger stomachs than mine.

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Registered: Apr 2000
Location: Slithering on the hull
Posts: 3253

a la "Doc" Smith

"QX, Sam!" Cried Frodo. "That zwilnik Gollum had just enough jets to cut me free from that blasted ring!"

Meanwhile Sam's steely gaze followed the form of Gollum into the cracks of doom. The kinetic energy of its wretched body's translation into one with the magma became heat. Heat added to heat. It piled up ragingly, frantically, equilibrating, then turning hotter. Hotter! HOTTER! "By Ulmo's carballoy bowels, ringman Frodo! We gotta get to clear ether!"

"Udun's jingling bells, Sam! Its covered. I phialed a message to Galadriel to alert our boys in Aeries we'd be needing them! They'll be here in 3.3 minutes, Eriador standard time."

And as the Grand Fleet of the Eagle Patrol blasted away from Mordor airspace with the two second-stage ringmen firmly in their grip, Frodo wondered when he would next be called upon to pull the chestnuts of the Valar out of the fire again.

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Registered: Oct 2000
Location: Mesquite, TX
Posts: 454

By Neal Stephenson (heavily borrowed, and eerily appropriate)

Frodo, the Deliverator, belongs to an elite order, a Fellowship of nine members only. He's got esprit up to here. Right now, he is preparing to carry out his only mission that matters. His armor is silver like the light of the full moon, jangling only slightly with its decorative gems. An arrow will bounce off its dwarvenmesh weave like a hammer off an anvil, but excess perspiration wafts through it like the winds over the charred plains of Gorgoroth. All the arrows of all the hunters in the world couldn't cut it against this one.

When they gave him the job, they gave him a sword. The Deliverator never looks for trouble, but some Orc might come after him anyway---might want his armor, or his cargo. The sword is tiny, aero-styled, lightweight, the kind of sword a Hobbit would carry; it cuts quickly into load-bearing beams without visible effort, and when you get done using it around evil, you have to sheathe it, because it glows in the dark.

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The King of the Nazgul (KotN) fingered the safety buckle that secured the shortsword in it's scabbard. It was modeled after the Gladius design, making it wholly inadequate for going up against Elven armour, but it was perfectly suited for being jammed in the collarbone of a Hobbit 'merc, without calling too much attention to it's owner. His XO, "Camel" Khamul had used a similar weapon in numerous CoIN missions in North Gondor, where he had been sent to disrupt "Elrond's" supply fellowships sneaking down the Is-ild-ur trail.
The KotN smiled, even without a head. This mission was almost going to be a mead-run. Taking out a squad of sleeping halflings was going to be easier than slaying Wyvyrns sitting on a tarmac...

-Hunt for the Ring, Tom Clancy

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Registered: Mar 2002
Location: Maryland, USA
Posts: 247

LOL! Great stuff guys!

partly_warmer: LotR by Cecil!? Hehe, that was good!


A Lost Short Story by J.R.R. Tolkien

The chicken, sunlight coruscating off its radiant yellow-white coat of feathers, approached the dark, sullen asphalt road and scrutinized it intently with its obsidian-black eyes. Every detail of the thoroughfare leapt into blinding focus: the rough texture of the surface, over which countless tires had worked their relentless tread through the ages; the innumerable fragments of stone embedded within the lugubrious mass, perhaps quarried from the great pits where the Sons of Man labored not far from here; the dull black asphalt itself, exuding those waves of heat which distort the sight and bring weakness to the body; the other attributes of the great highway too numerous to give name. And then it crossed it.

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Ringlord

Frodo looked blankly at the garden. "Sam, is there a reason you pulled up all the flowers?"

"Oh yes sir, Mr. Frodo, sir. Cause a them wassits, the bugs gottem. Aye. Yessir."

Frodo turned his questioning stare back to Sam, "And I'm sure this has nothign to do with the fact that Farmer Maggot has been buying them for ten-pence a dozen, either?

"Errrr....Oh no, not a bit of it, Mr. Frodo."
* * *

About that time, the visiting Archprocurer of Old and Mostly Unwanted Documents to Stick on a Dark Shelf in the Library, Gandalf of the More-or-less-seen tower of Isenguard showed up at the Inn of the Prancing Pony. The rough and tumble Eastern men eyed him supiciously. WHich was not unusual, they eyed everyone suspiciously. Including themselves, when they were about a mirror. "Hello there, Barliman. Could you get me a pot of Ale? On my credit, if you please."

"You've been running up a good tab lately, Mr. Gandalf, sir. You sure you're good for it?"

Oh, of course, Butterbur. 'Sides, the same law goes all down to Mordor. The night watch'd have my hide if I tried to cheat you. And its not like I expect some horrible fiend from beyond the pale of mortal ken to fight me in a gigantic duel above an ancient Dwarven City, leading to both our deaths, after all.

Barliman stared at Gandalf. "Errr... that wouldn't be a Balrog you're a speakin' of, right?

"Exactly sir. I cannot possibly be speaking of a Balrog since they don't exist. Hence I must be good for my debt. Haha."

~Terry Pratchet, though he would have done a much better job than I, surely.




LotR Z
"This foe is beyond any of you... his power Level has reached at least 30,000 after fighting every Dwarf in Moria. Ki Fhy to the gate Aragorn, you must lead them on!" The muscles beneath Gandalf'sGrey Cloak strained in anticipation of the coming battle.

Soon after, when they were nearly at the gate, the Balrog launched a surprise Ki attack, knocking down Borrmir and stunning Blazing Fist Gimli.

Gandfalf turned to face him. "Fool!" said he, I don't have time for this nonsense... "Pure Flame of Arnor Shield Wall Strike!" The massive energy wall sstreaked off towards the Balrog, who was knocked flying... though no-one was sure whether or not he had wings.

"Raaaaauuuugggg! Gandalf, I have not shown you my true power!

Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa...

five minutes later

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
aaaaaaaaa!

Now I am a Super Balrog 2!!!!! My power level has gone up to 3 million!"

Gandalf just smirked. "I probably shoud have told you, after you left the service of Eru, we figured out a few new tricks. Here's a good one:

Kaaaaaaaaaa------Meeeeeeee------Haaaaaaqa-----Meeeeee----

-The Balrog laughed in anticipation of Gndalf's feeble attack-

HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

The resulting explosion threw the Balrog back agaoinst the walls of Moria. His expression turned to one of complete disbelief. "Urrrghhh.... Ahhh... Ugghhhhh.... That's...not possible...."

The rest of the Fellowship of the Z Ring stared, twitching slightly and grunting in awe at Gandalf!

Gandalf grinned, "another one of those tricks I learned... I learned how to Hide my POWER level!"

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Somebody write a Gene Roddenberry version. I can't get up the willpower to subject myself to the Horror.

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Registered: Dec 1999
Location: Mufreesboro TN/Purgatory
Posts: 3458

My name is Baggins. Frodo Baggins. 00Hobbit, license to quest.

Oh Frodo! Last night was magnificient! Stay with me here in Lothlorien forever.

I cahn't Galadriel. The Grey Wizard, G, gave me an assignment to infiltrate Mordor, & destroy the One Ring.

I know, and when I take the Ring from your corpse, I shall rule in glory, and all shall love me and despair. Last night was Heaven, Mr. Baggins. Now go there.

BANG-BANG-BANG!

ARRRGH!

Galadriel, a Double Agent. Well, well, well. Too bad. But, I always preferred my elves shaken, not stirred. And certainly not shot.


No. not e.e. cummings. Guess again.

__________________
"A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down..."--L. Borgia

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Registered: May 2002
Location: Suffolk, UK.
Posts: 151

Of the great War of the Ring, and the tast
Of that Forbidden power, the long and
Arduous trek, thru’ fiery, blasted plains
With faithful Hobbits and treacherous beasts
To Chaos’ edge, and there to cast the One
To endless fire and eternal death:
Sing Heav’nly Muse, that in Rivendell did’st
First teach of the Rings of Power forgéd,
In the beginning how the Dark Lord Sauron
Brought into the world from fiery depths
Of Doom this ring of gold, pouréd into’t
His Malice and his Evil; I now
Invoke thy Aid to my Adventrous song
That struggle as it might to take to th’air
Though will I drag from bottomless perdition
Things unattempted yet in Prose or Rhime
And justifie the ways of men to Elves.

LotR, by John Milton

__________________
When wealth is shared, you have less wealth. Knowledge is different. When knowledge is shared, there is just more knowledge.

Dr Jonathan Sachs
_______________________

If you stand or if you fall
Just let them know you gave your all
Worry about it later.

Aztec Camera, 'Good Morning Britain'

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Registered: Mar 2002
Location: Maryland, USA
Posts: 247

The Lord of the Rings

Starring Humphrey Bogart and Marlene Dietreich

Directed by Howard Hawks


http://ringil.cis.ksu.edu/Tolkien/Movie/lotr.mov

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Registered: Aug 2000
Location: New Jersey
Posts: 483

OMG, Fingolfin, that's AWESOME!

And now, LoTR, by an anonymous japanese poet:

Ring of great evil
Small one casts it into flame
Bringing rise of Men

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Registered: Jan 2000
Location: Toadspittle Hill
Posts: 1561

quote:

---

Originally posted by Sublight
LoTR written by *shudder* Piers Anthony.

Forget it, that's for stronger stomachs than mine.

---

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Registered: Nov 2000
Location: Central Pennsylvania
Posts: 1985

o/` Wraith-wraithery, wraith-wraithery, wraith-wraith-eree,
A Nazgul's as nasty as nasty can be.
Wraith-wraithery, wraith-wraithery, wraith-wraith-eroo,
your luck will run out when I'm looking for you.
So give me the Ring, or you're Nazgul, too! o/`

o/` Just a spoonful of lembas helps the athelas go down,
the athelas go down,
the athelas go down.
Just a spoonful of lembas
helps the athelas go down
in a most delightful way. o/`

o/` Feed the orcs, tuppence a bag,
tuppence, tuppence, tuppence a bag. o/`

o/` Oooh...taurelilomeatumbalemornatumbaletaurealomeanor,
if you say it too slow then you won't make it to dinner.
Unless you've got some time on hand don't say I didn't warn ya.
taurelilomeatumbalemornatumbaletaurealomeanor. o/`

-excerpts from Merry Poppins, P.L. Travers & Walt Disney.

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Registered: Apr 2001
Location:
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Someone right one in lawyerese

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Registered: Apr 2001
Location:
Posts: 1257

err, I mean write, cough cough.

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Registered: Aug 2000
Location: New Jersey
Posts: 483

People were always asking me, did I know Gollum.

"AAAIEEE!"

With a crazed and deformed Stoor clenching his jaw on your finger, you only speak in vowels.

With my finger, I can feel the half-chewed fish stuck behind his tongue. I totally forgot about the whole Ring destruction thing for a second and I wondered how clean his teeth were.

The cave we're standing in won't be here in three minutes. You take an ancient evil Ring of Power and add a 98-percent concentration of flaming lava. Explosion. I know this because Sauron knows this.

This is our world now. Two minutes.

Two minutes to go and I'm wondering how I got here...

Fade to a support group: "Remaining Hobbits Together."

--Openning of Chuck Pahlaniuk's LoTR

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Registered: Jun 2001
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Posts: 171

LotR by George Orwell:
"I cannot read the fiery writing," said Frodo.
"There are few who can," replied Gandalf. "It is the language of Mordor, which I will not speak here. Translated into the common tongue, it reads:
'All rings of power are equal,
But some rings of power are more equal than others.'"

LotR by Dave Barry:
At the end of the Council of Elrond, everyone concluded that 'Shards of Narsil' would be a great name for a band.

LotR by Matt Groening:
Frodo suddenly reappeared, bleeding from the hand.
Gollum triumphantly cried, "Hmmmm...hobbit finger with ring of power garnish."
But as he danced in victory, Gollum slipped and fell into the pit of fire. The Cracks of Doom echoed with his last despairing cry of "D'oh!"

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We were 20 steps from the exit when the giant flaming Balrons first appeared over our heads. These weren't your normal giant flaming Balrons but some sort of interdimensional Maia that would sit and spin in mid air before dissolving before your very eyes and sneaking up behind you. Gandalf had the pipe and I had the ring which, so far, I had been able to resist trading to the local drug lords for another package of white. Gandalf was shouting random Macrohydration spells while simultaneously trying to not trip over his robes and fall face first into the local pools of goo. Legolas took another drink from his flask and, once again, began explaining how elves were different than humans and much, much mellower.
- Hunter S. Thompson

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Registered: Mar 2002
Location: Maryland, USA
Posts: 247

Bosda: Ian Fleming?

quote:

---

Originally posted by smiling bandit
Somebody write a Gene Roddenberry version. I can't get up the willpower to subject myself to the Horror.

---

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Registered: May 1999
Location: Silicon Valley, Cal., USA
Posts: 9935

Legolas allowed himself the luxury of allowing himself the luxury of a stray thought. What new treachery is this? he mused at the form coming slowly toward them through the world-haze. He reached out with senses sharpened by years of Elvish training. It looks like ... no! That cannot be! It must be a vision. Nazgul spies must have poisoned my lembas.

But the self within himself knew that his lembas was uncorrupted, that the vision that he saw now was not merely of a possible future but of an inevitable future. Yet still it strode closer, and closer, its pointed white hat contrasting sharply with the dull oceans of unbroken forestland and mountainrock behind it.

Galdalf lives!

"I am no longer Gandalf the Grey," the wizard intoned, his white stillrobes glistening in the day's heat. "Through the Trial of the Balrog I came close to death, but now the sleeper has awakened! I shall now be called ... Gandalf-Muad'Dib, the Mithrandir, the Lisan Al'Maia!"


-- from Ring Messiah, by Frank Herbert

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Registered: Oct 2001
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Posts: 713

Someone really ought to report this thread to threadspotting!

The Dr. Suess version is perfect. The Milton is also eerily excellent. James Joyce, anyone?

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Registered: Nov 2001
Location: Toronto
Posts: 211

The trouble with writing an epic, I find, is knowing just where to begin. So here I am, quill and parchment at the ready, a full bowl of pipeweed and, dash it, have great difficulty in beginning! That's the trouble with epics, as I suspect old Treebeard himself would say, and wasn't he a one for insisting that every story begin at the very beginning - of time, that is, and it takes all one's memories of school training to be polite to the old boy when you're rushing to catch an Eagle.

I brought this up with Gandalf when he dropped by yesterday. "Gandalf", I said, "Do you remember that old ROP we dropped into the crack of Mount Doom?" He did, of course. It was one of those rectangular - no, I mean rhetorical - questions. How could one forget? It was a tale to freeze thy blood, to make one's hair stand on end like quills upon the fretful porpentine - though I've never understood why one says porpentine when you mean porcupine. Something to do with elves, no doubt. I had been thinking of making a start by putting one of the elven marching songs on the title page, but all I can remember os 'Ding, dong, ding, dong, ding, dong, I hurry along', which would never do. Elrond would never approve.

So Gandalf applied himself to the task at hand - and that's a sight to see that makes strong men gasp and the ladies swoon. You could see the blood whizzing through that magnificent brain of his, chock full of all that health food he grazes on with Tom Bombadil. When there's a problem to be solved, just slip a few nuts and berries to old Gandalf and stand back, I say. Frightening, really.

So after a good think, Gandalf suggested Bilbo's eleventy-first birthday, and I knew right away I held the winning ticket, cash for life with no taxation. "Perfect" I told him. "That's just precisely where I'll set the starting post. You have hit the n. right on the h."

P. G. Wodehouse

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James I. Hymas
jiHymas@himivest.com

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I'd do LotR by Stephen Donaldson, but I can't decide who Frodo would rape.

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On this particular evening, something changed hands quietly in the back of a hobbit-hole in the Shire many miles from the dark realm of Mordor. A small, metallic something. Something which could be accurately described as a circular loop of shining metal.

The land of Middle Earth was almost oblivious to the change of ownership, which was wonderful for the two parties concerned. The trade went unnoticed among the citizens of Rivendell, it escaped the Nazgul completely, and even the dark lord himself continued straight on with his day without noticing. This was a pity for him, because it was exactly the thing he had been searching for all these years.

-- from The Mostly Harmless Ring of Power, by Douglas Adams

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In summer, the scorching sun above Middle-earth sears the land. Perched high on the dome of the sky, it bakes everything down, forcing the Hobbits, the Elves and the men to do their work quickly and retreat to their homes, staying in the cool shade while the orb of light attacks them from overhead. During the winter, on the other hand, the sun only climbs above the horizon for a few hours each day, and then dips back and plunges the world into darkness. The snow drives downward, the winds howl, and everyone, men, Elves, Dwarves, Hobbits, and Orcs, can feel the chill penetrating to their bones.

Frodo had set out from his home in the Shire, hoping for a chance to see the real Middle-earth. While his official purpose for the journey was to destroy a magic ring in the fires of Mount Doom, he had really accepted the invitation to join the quest because he viewed it as an opportunity to experience the genuine outside world. He had heard stories, of course, about how Hobbits who left the Shire, although naïve and ambitious at first, would eventually turn against the other cultures with scorn, and would long for their cozy hobbit-holes, their elaborate tea parties, their pipes of tobacco before second breakfreast. “Is it true what they say about hobbits who journey eastward, that we all eventually lose the spirit of adventure and just want to return to our cozy homes after a few months,” he asked Gandalf once as they sat around the campfire, but the wizard declined to provide a direct answer.

Regardless, he had remained inquisitive during the flight from the Nazgul and the stay at Rivendell. But as each day passed and the winter grew colder and more ominous, the dark bulks of the Misty Mountains loomed on the horizon up ahead. Their peaks seeming to be lost in the cloud cover, the mountains dwarfed everything, blotted out everything. Their massive bulks weighed on the members of the Fellowship, and the swirling snow seemed to wrap around them, cutting off and suffocating them. There, on the slopes of the Caradhras, Frodo suddenly felt small and insignificant, as if nothing that a little Hobbit could achieve would ever amount to anything more than that, snowflakes whirling in a storm.

from A Passage to Mordor, by E. M. Forster

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I don't have the talent to write it, but if I did, it would be by Homer.

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Thomas Hardy

--Insert reams of thick prose and endless paragraphs here---

And Frodo never got in to Christminster and all his children died in difficult circumstances.

Merrin

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I'd like to see a J.D. Salinger version of LotR. Or Graham Greene's. Or Faulkner's. Or Elmore Leonard's.

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IT WAS the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way- in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.


Not a word changed.

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quote:

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Originally posted by Joe_Cool
I don't have the talent to write it, but if I did, it would be by Homer.

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I think Fish42 already did that, when he did "LotR by Matt Groening."

Or didn't you mean that Homer?

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Registered: Feb 2001
Location: Geelong, Australia
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See Frodo run,
Run Frodo run.
See Sauron search,
Gollum and Frodo are playing,
Oops, Gollum dropped the ring in Mount Doom.
Now Sauron will have to find another ring.

-- See Frodo Run

Frodo crept down the stairs of the of the castle, his invisible cloak sweeping around his legs. He simply had to get the ring into Professor Saurons office without attracting attention. The castle was quite and he made his way without difficulty. A faint light was glowing from under the Professors door but nobody appeared to be in the office. Sneaking in quietly, he saw the volcano on the ledge bubbling quietly. He was just about to throw this ring into the fiery chasm when the door burst open and the Professor strode in. Not having time to think, Frodo Potter froze on the spot, grateful for being invisible.

Professor Sauron wasn't the only person who entered the room however. A massive hulking glowing monster had also ambled in alongside him and they were now deep in a conversation. Frodo froze, although he had never met one of those before, he had heard about it enough times to know that the thing standing in front of him was a Balrog!

"I want you to send a message to Professor Saruman, Tell him that I am prepared to join forces so that we can both live our lives without worrying about prying eyes. Fly swiftly for I need the message soon"

"But I dont have no wings" said the Balrog dumbly

"Use a broomstick you fool" snarled professor Sauron and swiftly left the classroom.

So it was true thought Frodo Potter, Sauron wan't to get rid of him and he was willing to enlist the help of Saruman to do it. He had to tell his friends Pippin and Merrione, they would know what to do.

"striding out of the classroom as fast as he could, he turned down a corridor without looking and a giant flash of green light blinded him. The scar on his forehead was now excruciating with pain. The last thing he saw before he blacked out was the figure of Elrond laughing madly.

Frodo gradually became aware that he was now lying in a bed. Trying to get up, he heard a gently voice in his ear.

"Ah, Frodo, it seems we are up and about already", it was the gentle voice of Headmaster Gandalf.

"I suppose you want to know what happened last night, It turns out that your last Defense against Dark Arts teacher wasn't really Elrond at all but was actually Lord Melkor's minion, Smeagol. You see, nobody actually knew what Elrond looked like before he came to HobbitWarts becuase he kept to himself. When Smeagol arrived, we all assumed it was Elrond. Quite unfortunate really."

"But I saw Professor Sauron with that Balrog, he was talking about removing those prying eyes"

"Yes, Sauron was one of the first suspect something about Smeagol, it was all those potions full of rotten fish that gave it away he said. He knew he couldn't tackle Smeagol alone so he enlisted the help of Saruman. He was the one who found you unconcious"

"You mean... Sauron is innocent?" stammered Frodo

"Yes you fool of a Took! I've been trying to tell you that for the last 4 years" snapped Gandalf rather angrily "Now get some rest so we can send you home to your awful Uncle Bilbo"

-- Frodo Baggins and the One Ring by JK Rowling ("Frodo Baggins and the Knarliest Ring" in the USA)

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Irvine Welsh:

Gandalf hud jest telt us aboot the ring an aw, an ay was feeling a bit queasy like, so ay started cooking up. Ay needed it an all, ye ken? -Can ye dae me a hit too, says Gandalf.

---

By now ah'm feelin all barry likes, and me and Gandalf ur discussin the fitba, which was nae a gud idea since ah'm a Hibs supporter and Gandalf's Herts. -Ye fuckin Proddy wanker he shouts at me and I start tae clobber him, a good clean fight n aw, ye ken, until he pulls oot a blade.

Ah nivir seen th' cunt so pissed in ehs puff, but ay dinna have tae put oop wi this shite. Ay swear ah'll murder th' bastard, ring or nae ring, land ay Mordor or nae land ay Mordor...

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Because I'm.. legally required to submit a version of Chuck Palahniuk's "Lord of Rings" modeled more closely to the book than gonzoron's more movie-like offering: (?)

"Frodo gets me a job as a waiter, after that Mr. Frodo's pushing Sting in my mouth and saying, the first step to eternal life is you have to die. For a long time, though, Frodo and I were best friends. People are always asking me, did I know about Frodo Baggins.

The tip of the sword just touched the back of my throat, Frodo says, "We really won't die."

With my tongue I can feel the fuller forged into the bottom of the blade. Most of the weight of a sword is in the middle, a mass increasing as the blade broadens for extra cutting power. To reduce the weight and improve manueverability, you forge channels in the face of the blade. This makes it light for its width but helps it retain some cutting power.

You forge the fullers too thin, and the blade can break in your hand.

"This isn't really death," Frodo says. "We'll be legend. We won't grow old."

I tongue the elven blade into my cheek and say, Mr. Frodo, you're thinking of ringwraiths.

The mountain we're standing on won't be here in ten minutes. You take a 98 percent concentration of a fuming portion of a dark lord's power and add it to molten gold. Then, pour the gold into a mold in the shape of a ring. Take it out of the mold and remove the sprues in a closed environment, and you have a ring of power.

I know this because Frodo knows this.

Throw the ring into the fires in which it was forged, and you get a massive explosion that brings down the mountain. A lot of folk feed them to dragons or pay a Balrog to lash the ring. Dragons and Balrogs have never, ever worked for me.

So Frodo and I are on top of Mount Doom with Sting stuck in my mouth, and we hear rocks crumbling. Look over the edge. It's always a cloudy day, especially this high up. This is Middle Earth's most evil mountain, and on top of it the wind is always cold. It's so quiet this high up, the feeling you get is that you're one of those Nazgul steeds. You do the little job you're told to do.

Get ridden to battle.

Confront a shield maiden.

You don't understand any of it, and then you just die.

Three-thousand feet up up, you look over the edge of the cliff and the plane below is mottled with a shag carpet of orcs, walking, marching to the West. The stone crumbling is the cliff-face right below us. Gollum climbs up the side of mountain, eyes big as Gandalf's old hat as he picks his way up slowly. Bits of ragged clothing catch on jagged rocks and drop, getting smaller, disappearing into the packed crowd."

...

So.. there you go.

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This thread is turning out much, much better than I thought it would! Utterly fantastic!

quote:

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Originally posted by Truth Seeker
Someone really ought to report this thread to threadspotting!

The Dr. Suess version is perfect. The Milton is also eerily excellent. James Joyce, anyone?

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James Joyce

Old man willow, whistling like a tea pot, shining like a star, oh so brilliant in the dreaming and smoke and by the river, Goldberry's river, dancing like a vision, Bombadil, Bombadil, Bombadillo. Rock of ages, young and ageless, naked before my eyes like Rivendell Rock, sweet and hard and trusting....

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Registered: Aug 2000
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quote:

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Originally posted by tracer
Gandalf-Muad'Dib, the Mithrandir, the Lisan Al'Maia!"


-- from Ring Messiah, by Frank Herbert [/B]

---

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Registered: Oct 2002
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Another easy one: (my first post ever!) most humble apologies to all for the terrible rape of this poem.

WB Yeats

The Lake Isle of The Grey Havens

I will arise and sail now, and sail to the Grey Havens,
And a small tower build there, of mithril and magic made:
Nine ent friends will I have there, a hole for the hobbit free,
And live alone in the pipe weed glade.

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gonzoron: Heh. If you're going to do LotR as a D&D novel, you might as well go all the way:


"A balrog!" Gandalf rasped. "I might have known!"

Pippin hauled out his well-worn copy of the Monstrous Manual, while Merry peeked over his shoulder. "I don't see 'Balrog' listed in the index anywhere."

"Of course not, foolish Took," the high-level mage chided him. "The copyright to the 'Balrog' name is owned by the Tolkien estate. Gygax had to call it 'Balor' or a 'Type VI demon' when he put the MM together."

Merry quickly thumbed to the Demon section, only to recall that in 2nd Edition, "Demons" and "Devils" had been renamed Baatezu and Tanar'ri, although he never could remember which was which. He cursed the Fundamentalist Christian parents' groups who had threatened to boycott TSR for creating a "demonic" game, and which had forced that particularly stupid name-change upon them. Finally, though, he located "Balor" in the Tanar'ri section, grateful that they weren't among the discontinued demon listings like Orcus and Demogorgon.

"They're only 13 hit dice," Merry dutifully reported, "But they can cast dispel magic every round at 20th level, so watch yourself, Gandalf!"

"That also do 4d8 damage if they make a to-hit roll with their whip and drag you close to their bodies," Gimli noted. "I'm outta here!" He turned and ran at his full movement rate of 9 (12 if he wasn't wearing armor).

"Leave him to me," the mage intoned. "They're worth 46,000 experience points apiece, and if I kill him by myself, I get all of those points!" He strode toward the Balr-- er, Balor, and blocked the 10-foot-wide corridor leading out of the room. "You shall not pass!!"

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