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Lord of the Rings, as Written By Everyone Else 350

sn0rt writes "A thread on Straight Dope asks what would happen if someone else had written the Lord of the Rings. Reader submissions include Ernest Hemingway, Douglas Adams, Mark Twain, HP Lovecraft, ee cumings, Milton, Mickey Spillane, Danielle Steele, Ayn Rand(!!), Ray Bradbury, Gilbert and Sullivan and Tom Clancy. My favourite is Dr. Suess: '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.'"
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Lord of the Rings, as Written By Everyone Else

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  • by Snaller ( 147050 ) on Tuesday January 07, 2003 @08:30AM (#5031584) Journal
    It would have been filled with robots, lasers and naked babes ;o)
    • by mccalli ( 323026 ) on Tuesday January 07, 2003 @08:34AM (#5031594) Homepage
      Naah - they'd have just turned it into a giant chase film, with rewrites to the plot left right and centre. And that dwarf - he'd have no chance. He'd just be reduced to some sort of comic relief.


      Err...never mind.


      • by Britissippi ( 565742 ) on Tuesday January 07, 2003 @08:40AM (#5031612) Journal
        Why did that make me think of the end of the Benny hill show? I can just see Frodo being chased round by nine scanitly-clad ringwraiths...? Dee do dee dee dilly diily doo do dee dee dilly dilly.....

        Umm, yeah, never mind. :)

      • Dwarves are always little more than comic relief, its the plight of the Height-Challenged. Everybody knows that the only three in the Fellowship that can actually fight are Gandalf, Aragorn and Legolas. The short people are there to be rescued, laughed at, or carried around.

        "Funny-like-midgets" is deeply ingrained in our society. It is typical heightism. Its hate literature. It should be stopped! Is it too late to change the title of The Two Towers (gee, wouldn't want to risk making a reference to the WTC in literature written before they were relevant) so that we're sensitive to the Height-Challenged? How about "Lord of the Rings 2: HOOORAY FOR SHORT PEOPLE"?

    • I didn't think the movie could have gotten better... but LOTR with naked babes ... wow.
    • by pommiekiwifruit ( 570416 ) on Tuesday January 07, 2003 @09:10AM (#5031729)
      Just remember that the President of North Korea, Kim Jong Il, which is working on nuclear weapons (and can already more than reach Japan with its missiles), gets his view of the world through Hollywood movies.

      Whatever you do, don't send Arnie over as a (republican) goodwill ambassador...

      • You realize that the world IS watching that movie? Self rightous loons everywhere will be convinced that the best thing to do is fight to an honorable death. Sadam and Jong can both use this film to inspire their troops.
  • by Gavin Rogers ( 301715 ) <> on Tuesday January 07, 2003 @08:39AM (#5031609) Homepage
    Because it would probably have never been published.

    Sure, it's fun to re-write a bit of the LOTR in the style of your favourite author, but try doing it with an entire chapter... or an entire book. The witty and humerous style of, say Douglas Adams would quickly become unbearable on something as big as LOTR.

    It's a bit like translating Shakespear into Klingon. Well, yes, do it if you want but the world reads Shakespear as it was written and as it was intended! Everything else is a waste of time...
  • Ayn Rand (Score:4, Funny)

    by Anonymous Coward on Tuesday January 07, 2003 @08:42AM (#5031617)
    Ayn Rand?? Frodo would have been the bad guy for stealing someone elses hard worked ring. Regardless of whether or not it was used for evil.
    • Re:Ayn Rand (Score:5, Funny)

      by Big_Monkey_Bird ( 620459 ) on Tuesday January 07, 2003 @10:09AM (#5032074)
      I would think Ayn Rand would have disapproved the anti-industrial subtext. Here's a few things she would change

      10. First line would be "Bilbo Baggins Laughed"

      9. Frodo would wear a blouse of Reardon metal

      8. Aragorn would force himself on Arwen

      7 In the cracks of Mt Doom, Frodo would make a 60 page speech everyone glosses over.

      6. You have know how to say "Inyë", before you can say "Tye-mela'ne"

      5. The entrance to Moria would require the declaration of selfishness.

      4. Wormtongue's elvish name would be Nathaniel

      3. "Who is Gil-Galad?"

      2. Gollum would have a manipulative mother

      1. The book would be even longer
  • by Ann O'Nymous-Coward ( 460094 ) on Tuesday January 07, 2003 @08:42AM (#5031619)
    * If Jon Katz had written it, he'd do a global replace of "Orc" with "Jock" and "Mordor" with "High School"

    * If CmdrTaco had written it, it'd be called "Lodr of the Rnigs."
    * Arwen would be played by Petrified Natalie Portman.
    * There'd be a scene where Sauron looks up from admiring his shiny new gold toy and says to his nine best friends "Imagine if we had a Beowulf Cluster of this!"
    * There'd be the Obligatory TokenRing Joke.
    * The opening credits would be replaced by FR1ST PS0Ts
    * The DVD would be released in "Page-Widening Spam" format instead of "Widescreen"
  • by Bill_Mische ( 253534 ) on Tuesday January 07, 2003 @08:47AM (#5031634)
    Many years ago there was a summarise the LOTR in 25 words or less...I think the winner went something like:

    Shortarse kills dark lord by chucking ring down volcano. Local vagrant elected king.

  • Variations... (Score:5, Informative)

    by technix4beos ( 471838 ) <> on Tuesday January 07, 2003 @08:49AM (#5031644) Homepage Journal
    I compiled most of the variations into one message, so as to not hammer yet another poor server into oblivion.

    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


    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.
    Per G.G., Chief of Ordnance.


    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.


    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.

    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."

    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.

    "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.

    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.

    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.


    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.


    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!


    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...

    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

    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.

    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.

    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

    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.


    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!

    Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa aa aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
    aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa aa aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

    five minutes later

    aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa aa aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

    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-----Me ee eee----

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


    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!"

    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.



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

    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

    The Lord of the Rings

    Starring Humphrey Bogart and Marlene Dietreich

    Directed by Howard Hawks

    A rather interesting link..

    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...taurelilomeatumbalemornatumbaletaurealomean or,
    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.

    People were always asking me, did I know Gollum.


    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

    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!"

    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

    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

    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

    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)


    I hope Slashdot seriously considers some sort of cache in the future. Google has it. Why not a simple cache for certain submissions?

    • by dpilot ( 134227 ) on Tuesday January 07, 2003 @09:49AM (#5031923) Homepage Journal
      "Read the rest of this comment..." is definitely worthwhile.
    • There's a lot of further discussion over in Teresa Nielsen-Hayden's weblog comment section []. Here's one as written by the Marx Brothers:

      "And as the Dark Lord's power spreads, these fell signs will be seen upon the --"

      "Boss, I don' like-a dat line."

      "But this is is in every ancient prophecy. It's called foreshadowing."

      "Well, you may-a called for it, but will it come when-a you call? Dat's a good one, eh, boss?"

      And here is another long list of variations [], including this one, as written by Meatloaf:

      It was a hot summer's day in the Marsh of the Dead
      There was fog crawling over the swamp
      I could listen to the screams of the Dead Men Calling
      I could see their empty eyes and the candles blowing in the wind.
      You were licking your finger
      With the Ring of Power and I was dying just to ask for a taste
      We were dancing together up on the Crack of Doom
      And no-ones gonna know what we've done.
  • Mirror (Score:2, Informative)

    by Rufus211 ( 221883 )
    here's a mirror of the thread, as of course any messsage board will die under a good /. [] Someone else, please mirror this as it's only on my cable's upstream.
    • Re:Mirror (Score:2, Informative)

      Someone else, please mirror this

      OK, a copy is now here [], But I pay for excessive outgoing traffic, so if it gets hit to hard I will have to take it down.

      So would other people please also mirror it, so that we can distribute the load!

  • Thomas Pynchon (Score:3, Interesting)

    by meta.chris ( 35496 ) on Tuesday January 07, 2003 @09:01AM (#5031690) Homepage
    Thomas Pynchon, IMO, would be the most facinating and bizarre person to have written the trilogy.

    If it had been the case, Pynchon's Lord of the Rings may very well have made his Gravity's Rainbow (which varies from horridly arduous to incredibly beautiful) look like The Little Engine that Could (the only book out of the above that i've actually read every sentence from).
  • Oddly enough, just last night I was thinking of similarities between H. P. Lovecraft and J.R.R. Tolkien. (No, really.) Though much of their work seems diametrically opposed, there are a number of similarities in their life and their approach to fiction:

    • Both looked longingly back on what they considered idyllic childhoods.
    • Both were antiquarians who looked to an era in the past as a golden age, disdaining the present, the idea of progress, and the industrial revolution.
    • Both had fathers die at a young age.
    • Both were fascinated what most (non-geeks) think of as dry academic areas: Philology for Tolkien, Astronomy for Lovecraft.
    • Both were political conservatives of aristocratic temperment.
    • Both became leading figures in long-lasting, all-male affinity groups of fantastic fiction writers (Lovecraft with Clark Ashton Smith, Frank Belkamp Long, August Derleth, etc., Tolkien with The Inklings (C.S. Lewis, Charles Williams, etc.).
    • Both wrote tales in which the enormous and complex freight of their backstories was generally unknown to most of their protagonists, and only imperfectly revealed (if at all) throughout the tale.
    • Both wrote works deeply tinged with pessimism and melancholy. Their protagonists might or might not survive, but even in the best of outcomes the world they knew would be forever changed due to events set in motion long before their birth.
    • Finally, and perhaps most importantly, both used the tremendously powerful technique of salting their richly imagined secret histories with tidbits of real cultural, myth and history, which that gave their stories a resonance, depth and verisimilitude that their legions of imitators could never match. Lovecraft stole from dozens of arcane sources, while Tolkien delved into the roots of language to imaginatively reconstruct what he felt were "true myths" about the world.

    Now what I need is for someone who's both a Tolkien and a Lovecraft fanatic to write a critical essay on this topic...

    • Ah! But you miss the most important difference between the two: One was devoutly religious, the other a devout atheist.

      Where Ronnie borrowed from the bible, Phil mocked people's reliance on religion to explain things larger than them in the Cosmos. Compared to all the things similar (I would whole-heartedily diagree on the "Golden Age" and Luddistic tendencies point for Phil though, from his writings he embraced new technology and science to give us rational explanations for things occuring around us we didn't understand), their one theological difference seperates the two in form and function, leaving only style.

      Being a fan of both, I would love to do an essay on the subject, but that's as close as I can come to it on Company Time. =)
      • he embraced new technology and science to give us rational explanations for things occuring around us we didn't understand

        Really? It seemed to me that his outline was thus: Scientist finds new discovery and it eats him, proving that the Universe is far worse that we can imagine. New discoveries never lead to new understanding, they in fact reveal that what we thought we knew was all wrong. Where does a new technology help anyone in HPL land?

    • 'The Search For Unknown Kadath' was the most Tolkein-like of HP stories. My favorite from Lovecraft.
    • They may appear similar, but when you dig deeper much of that similarity disappears; e.g. Lovecraft may have been "fascinated" by astronomy, but Tolkien studied Philology at Oxford and went on to teach at both the University of Leeds and at Oxford.

      And are Lovecraft's and Tolkien's sources of inspiration really that comparable? Lovecraft's "dozens of arcane sources" vs. Tolkein's extensive use of the rich Norse and Anglo-Saxon mythic traditions?

      (Just a nitpick, but the Inklings weren't actually an "all-male affinity group", as Dorothy Sayers was a member.)
  • by EvilTwinSkippy ( 112490 ) <yoda@ e t o y> on Tuesday January 07, 2003 @09:40AM (#5031876) Homepage Journal
    According to Illiad the story went like this [] []
  • Heinlein (Score:4, Funny)

    by Vidmaster_Steve ( 455301 ) on Tuesday January 07, 2003 @09:41AM (#5031879) Homepage
    I'm imagining this book as written by a latter-years Robert A. Heinlein. You know, when he stopped writing quaint little "juvenile fiction" novels like Red Planet, Space Cadet and The Man Who Sold The Moon, and passed his "grim, gritty, post-future holocaust" novels like Stranger In A Strange Land and Starship Troopers.

    No... I can imagine it as written by the dirty old sex-obsessed mathematician that wrote books like Number Of The Beast. You know the ones I'm talking about. Like a Harelquin romance novel but with mathematicians, so it was cool and all for us dorks in high school to flip through the pages in the prolonged periods of downtime that we had in our English 3 classes back in high school. Yeah, you know those interminable stretches of time when the teacher was forcing you to read Grapes Of Wrath in class when all you wanted to do was bury your nose into some Clarke or Asimov or even Niven.

    So you'd sit there and turn the pages of Number Of The Beast slowly, your eyes darting up to your short, round, blonde teacher yammering away about the Joad family and their time in Needles (yeah, Steinbeck really made that fucking place seem just plain OMINOUS, really built it up to be about fifty thousand times more impressive than it really is. HEY KIDS! THEY'RE JUST FUCKING ROCKS!) between line breaks. Oh no, you're there reading a novel written by a man deep in the grip of senile dementia. One page will be discussing the six-dimensional nature of the universe, the next be describing in meticulous detail sex acts between two middle-aged paunchy scientists. Alternate universes, new positions... This book wavers between insanity and inanity.

    Now... Imagine the Lord of the Rings written in that style... Of course, since women in Tolkien's universe are about as rare as dragons (and the menfolk would much rather quest after said scale-beast than spend some "quality time" with the comely lasses) there would be a marked increase of homoerotic tension in the novel, punctuated with page after page of lovingly-detailed discussion on the technology and mathematics of Sauruman's magic powers.

    Couple that with some Ents and a few Orcs and a Goblin or three and we'll have the best goddamned novel ever written.
  • by ebcdic ( 39948 ) on Tuesday January 07, 2003 @09:52AM (#5031951)
    As I stood at the window, gazing through the swirling fog, I observed a figure hesitating on the other side of the road. "A client, Holmes!" I exclaimed. "I have been expecting him," my friend replied, "tell me what you make of him".

    "From his hooded cloak I deduce that he belongs to some religious order," I began, applying the deductive methods that I had seen Holmes so often display. "Evidently he is of great age, from the way he stoops almost to the ground as he crosses the street, almost as if he were sniffing a trail." But as he reached the house, he stood up with surprising vigour, and we immediately heard the ring of the bell. Moments later, the door to our room sprang open, and in strode the dark figure, his face completely hidden by his hood.

    "Forgive me if I do not introduce myself," he said. "I have a task for you, Mr Holmes. A simple matter, no doubt, for one with your
    abilities. My master - a foreign potentate, his name need not concern you - is the owner of an ancient piece of jewelry, which has been stolen. It has no intrinsic value - it is a simple gold ring - but it has great sentimental value to him. Find it, and you can name your price."

    "Both your errand and your master are already known to me," said Holmes. He wrote a name on a sheet of paper and passed it to the visitor. "I have a number of other cases on hand at present, but I will look into the matter if I have time."
  • by briggsb ( 217215 ) on Tuesday January 07, 2003 @09:53AM (#5031955)
    wrote it here's what [] it would probably look like.
    • "Yousa steala precious from meesa!"
    • I have always felt Star Wars ep1 was for more related to LOTR, then it was to Hidden Fortress.

      Git something the 'Evil Guy' wants vary badly.
      Evil Guy sends out minions.
      Using cunning and magic, the valuable item avoids the minions, and ends up at a 'great council'.
      The council decides there must be a group of people to go to the land of the evil guy, and destroy the evil by tossing a simple energy bolt down a shaft. This is acomplished by believng in one self, magic, and some last minute cunning.

  • by khendron ( 225184 ) on Tuesday January 07, 2003 @10:13AM (#5032100) Homepage
    Somebody asked for a legalese LotR:

    Ring Bearer's License Agreement

    Please read the following license agreement (hereafter referred to as "AGREEMENT"). You must accept the terms (hereafter referred to as "TERMS") of this license to bear the Ruling Ring (hereafter referred to as "RING") to the Crack of Doom in the land of Mordor (hereafter referred to as "DOOM").

    GRANT OF LICENSE: This license grants you the right to bear RING to DOOM. You may bear RING only to DOOM, and any other land that is required to pass through in order to reach DOOM. Once you have reached DOOM, you agree forthwith to toss RING into the Crack that are found at DOOM. Any hesitation or deviation may be interpreted as a breach of TERMS, causing immediate and irrevocable termination of AGREEMENT.

    LIMITATIONS OF LICENSE: This AGREEMENT does NOT grant you permission to allow others to bear RING, except where circumstances make such a transfer desirable. Such circumstance will be interpreted as a transfer of license, and the new bearer shall be bound by the TERMS put forth in AGREEMENT. You are further discouraged from wearing RING, except in circumstances where the protection and insight provided by RING are deemed useful in reaching DOOM. Under no circumstances are you permitted to transfer RING to one Sauron (hereafter referred to as "ENEMY") or any employees or representatives of ENEMY.

    TERMINATION OF LICENSE: This AGREEMENT shall be deemed terminated under the following circumstances: (1) RING is tossed into the Crack found at DOOM; (2) Your death, and the death of all your companions; (3) Major deviation from the path to DOOM; or (4) RING is transferred, voluntarily or involuntarily, to ENEMY or an employee or representative of ENEMY. In the case of (4) with voluntary transfer, the Valar in the Undying Lands would like to have a word with you.

  • I'll write one myself, as soon as I work up the nerve...

  • Hunter S. Thompson:

    It was getting dark. Not that the sun setting brought any true darkness to the Shire. These folks knew well the power of the Shire weed and it's potent effects on the uninitiated mind. Parties in the Shire could last for ages and involve imbibing liquids of every known colour and spectra in ghastly quantities. I had been sent to write a report for the Elvish council on the elventy-first birthday of one Bilbo Baggins. Not that I worked for the elves mind you. I was a free spirit in those days. A veritable nomad of unclouded opinion with truly obscene powers of light and fire. Working with the elves afforded me the opportunity to wallow in the heart of the Shire dream. To bathe in the glow of that hairy-footed dimunitive candor which all wizards aspire to, but none achieve. Truly to become one with the earth and to live amongst the Hobbits. I had to prepare for this journey well.. In addition to the wagonload of poppers, crackers, sparklers, flaming dragons, and starbursts, I needed to find a keg of the finest honeywine I could get. I needed to be prepared for an undertaking of this monumental scope.
  • 'cuse me, are you the Fellowship of the Ring?
    Bugger off! Fellowship of the Ring? Bleeding fags! Of course we're not the Fellowship of the bleeding Ring, we're the People's Followers of The Ring. Bloody Fellowship of the Ring, prancing around on their bloody horses.
    Still, they're not as bad as the Judean People's Ring Front!
    Yeah, sodding Judean People's Ring Front!
    And the People's Front of the Ring!
    Yeah, bleeding People's Front of the Ring!
    And the People's Followers of the Ring!
    Yeah, sodding... hey, wait a minute, we're the People's Followers of the Ring!
    Oh, sorry...
  • by ohboy-sleep ( 601567 ) on Tuesday January 07, 2003 @10:51AM (#5032366) Homepage
    You are in an open shire west of a little, white house with a rounded front door. To the north stands your old pal, Gandalf.
    > N
    Gandalf appears glad to see you. "I am glad to see you," he says, "I hear you were given a ring. Could I see it?"
    > I
    You have:
    Flask of ale
    Contract for three movies
    One ring to rule them all
    I don't know which ring you mean.
    Who are you showing the ring to?
    You are eaten by a grue.
    • That is too funny... This is how it always worked for me:

      Who are you showing the ring to?
      Who are you showing the ring to?
      (ARGH! let me try something else)

      Who are you showing the ring to?
      (ARGHGHGHG! Let me try one more time)

      Who are you showing the ring to?

      > I HATE ZORK
      (Destroying 5.25 floppy and throwing Apple//e out the window.)

  • LOTR by Jim Anchower: (The Onion [])

    Hola, amigos. How's it hangin'? I know it's been a long time since I rapped at ya, but there been all sorts of craziness going on.

    First off, I get this new job as a gardener for this middle-aged short bastard-- Frodo Baggins. The work's pretty easy, and I can grow my own weed. I don't know what it is about the dirt in Hobbiton, but that's some sweet-ass green. Farmer Maggot grows the sh** bigtime and he's always up-in-arms about a couple of local peeps stealin' in. "It's good to share." That's what I always say.

    Anyway, I guess it's not fair to call Frodo (FB, as I call him) a bastard. He tokes as much as I do. I thought I might be growin' it a little too pure though. FB was all talking about this tall dude named Gandalf and how he told him to hide this one ring of his uncle Bilbo's. So, he's layin' this weed-tale on me. I'm already high and am getting a secondary-high of FB's breath and I'm thinking, "Sh**, that little ring would buy me a nice little stash," I shook that off. That was the old, out-of-work Anchower.

    There's this nice piece that works down at the pub. She's been eyeing the anchower package ever since I came growing. At Bilbo Bagins 111th birthday party last week, where he disappeared -- damn, I completely forgot that -- she was all over me. I don't even think she was drunk, and I know I wasn't hallucinating. I still have the bite marks to prove it.

    Anway, this Bilbo guy gets up and, I know it's his birtday and all, and give this wack-ass four word speech and vanishes. I was thinking I was a little too high but everyone else was surprised, too. He hasn't been back since. That's cool, I have a good job, weed, and he had his eye on the pub-chick anyway. Sick old bastard. I gotta give the pops props, though, I saw him sporting 111-year old wood at the pub and I know that I'm gonna be just as nasty at his age. That'll be sweet.
  • by Megane ( 129182 ) on Tuesday January 07, 2003 @11:08AM (#5032471) Homepage
    From this message []:

    And now I've got this terrible cross with Hunter S Thompson popping into my head.

    "It was half way to Rivendell when the drugs began to take hold" Hunter S Tolkien "Fear and Loathing in Barad Dur"

    Actually that whole thread has a couple of ideas in it. The root message [] has Ned Flanders as Tom Bombadil:

    5) I concede to all those who said Bombadil was annoying in my last post. My memory of Tom Hey-ho-merry-dol Bombadil was far less hey-nonny-nonny-annoying than the actual experience of reading him. He ring-a-ding-a-dillo sounds like Ned-diddly-ed Flanders at a hey-doodle-hi-diddle-riddle-diddle-dee Renaissance Festival. And his "Hey, li'l dudes, that whole ring deal? 'tain't my prob-diddly-oblem" attitude nauseated me. The world's about to be turned into a giant Concentration Camp, and he's out prancing in the posies and unwilling to help? Feh.

  • ...check it out, it's really funny: []

    I think Merry's is particularly funny. They are more from the perspective of someone who's seen the movies but not the books, but still great.

    • not funny (Score:2, Insightful)

      by SuperPedro ( 18203 )
      Maybe it's funny if you're about 13 years old. It's just a bunch of gay inuendo.

      And by "gay" I don't mean "stupid". The author is seriously preoccupied with lame homosexual jokes.

  • by jonadab ( 583620 ) on Tuesday January 07, 2003 @11:15AM (#5032524) Homepage Journal
    I wanted to post this over there, but their server has succumbed, so...

    True!--nervous--very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but
    why will you say that I am mad? The ring had sharpened my senses--not
    destroyed-- not dulled them. Above all was the sense of seeing in the
    wraith world acute. I saw all things in the earth and under the
    earth. I saw many things from the crack of mount doom. How, then, am
    I mad? Hearken! and observe how healthily -- how calmly I can tell
    you the whole story.

    It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain; but once
    conceived, it haunted me day and night. Object there was none.
    Passion there was none. I loved the ring. It had never wronged me.
    It had never given me trouble. For its gold I had no desire. I think
    it was the eye! Yes, it was this! The one eye resembled that of a
    vulture--a fiery red eye, with a dark shroud over it. Whenever it
    fell upon me, my blood ran cold and so by degrees--very graduallyI
    made up my mind to take the old ring to the crack of doom, and thus to
    rid myself of the eye forever.

    -- Opening section of The Telltale Ring, by Edgar Allen Poe
  • That server doesn't seem to allow anonymous posts, and I'm not going to sign up -- but if anyone else wants to copy this to there, feel free:

    DISAPPEARING RING (Mending wall)
    by Robert Frost MickLinux.

    Something there is that does not want a ring;
    that sends the frozen ice-fingers into the land
    and spills the servant-blood in the sun;
    and makes it lose itself so anyone can find it.
    The work of dragons is another thing;
    I have come after them and made repair
    Where they have not left one stone on a stone.
    But they would have the treasure out of hiding,
    to please their greedy eye. The loss, I mean.
    Nobody sees it or hears it when it falls
    But at greatest need we find it gone.
    I let noone know; my shadow even
    and set to hunt the ring once again.
    I keep a secret place for the ring as I go
    to each, the temptation that has fallen to each;
    and some are for power, and some for fear
    There may be a spell to make it stay that way.
    "One Ring to Rule them all and bind all" or somesuch;
    We wear our souls to greyness, just handling it.
    Oh, it's just another outdoor game,
    The ONE against all; it comes to little more.

    Where it is now we do not need a ring.
    Here is all beauty and gardens and ale.
    My apple trees will never blacken the hillside
    and eat Lobelia's flowers, I tell her.
    She only says "You are an imposter; Bag Hill should be mine!"
    Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder
    if I could put a notion in her head.
    "Why should Bag Hill be yours? Isn't it
    true that you are an Underhill?" But here there are no Underhills.
    Before I claimed a thing, I'd ask to know
    what good I could do it, or it me;
    and who else might come hunting it.
    Something there is that doesn't love a ring,
    that wants it destroyed. I could say "Elves",
    but it isn't Elves exactly; and I'd rather
    Gandalf said it for himself. I see him there
    bringing his staff grasped firmly near the top
    in his hand, like an old stone wizard armed.
    I move half-shadowed it seems to me.
    Not by woods only and the shade of trees.
    He will not stop that incessant saying "take it to Mordor"
    secretly he likes having it for his own.
    He says again "Take it to the Cracks of Doom"
    - but his eye gleams at the saying.

  • Pynchon (Score:2, Funny)

    by njord ( 548740 )

    A Nazgul screams across the sky. It has happened before, but there is nothing to compare it to now. Down below, the hobbits work. The Shire twists and wiggles with the tiny shapes crawling across it's surface, with banners of white and red and green. Bilbo sits in the vaginal warmth of his End (his Bag End) and sucks of a dirty corn-cob pipe, listening to the the pads of leathery hobbit hooves against the earth, a whole dance number where all over the performers are drunk on some coconut-flavored drink and can't stay together. The erratic thumps of calloused soles on grassy ground plays a tune to which Bilbo in his reverie of pipe-weed and little invisible people can ponder like a hashishin marvelling at a knife while he drives it into the deep folds of date-nutured fat on a sultan's back.

    Meanwhile, Frodo of the Baggins of the Shire is trying to belch the alphabet in the Green Dragon while a group of plastered but endearing hobbits watch his strained efforts at staying on his little pencil-legs like a whitecoated, bespectacled scientist watches a mantis devour its mate. A tired and grunt precede each haletosic syllable of his poorly crated abcadarium, at which he wobbles a little to the left and then to the right. The barflies keep watching.

    Thomas Pynchon's The Lord of the Rings

  • Yeah, I can just see it now, Frodo and Sam are homosexual lovers frolicking and making passionate love in the Shire, then they go off with "the ring" or what is otherwise known as the "c*ck ring". They meet up with two other lovers and are being chased by some SM kings on horse with wips and chains. The porno movie would be called, "The Lord Of the C*ck Ring." HA HA! This is my idea, don't steal it and make $$!
  • No LOTR Logo/Icon? (Score:5, Insightful)

    by halo8 ( 445515 ) on Tuesday January 07, 2003 @12:29PM (#5033027)
    Why oh Why Dear Slashdot Editors dose Lord of the Rings not have a Logo? Starwars has a Logo.. the Ipod has a Logo.. why dosent LOTR?

    Think about it.. all the Posts that are going to be made over the next +2 Years for LOTR.. Movie Reiviews, Spoilers, Trailers, DVD's, DVD Reviews, Special Ed. DVD's, Cast Interviews, Award Shows, ect.. ect... ect..

    LOTR DESERVES its own Logo/Icon 16 794 =4983 792
  • <Political Rambling>

    George W. Gandalf: "I would like to name Morder as an Axis of Evil. With the help of Elrond Blair and his elvish folks, and our superb strategory, we will not rest until Morder is defeated."

    Ari Schriber-Baggins: "Sir, there's no oil in Morder? Hmm.. There must be oil in Isengard, Sir."

    George W. Gandalf: "Like I said, the true axis of evil is Isengard. Our dispute with Morder can, and will be solved diplomatically."

    </Political Rambling>
  • by ites ( 600337 ) on Tuesday January 07, 2003 @01:52PM (#5033818) Journal

  • by Xebikr ( 591462 ) on Tuesday January 07, 2003 @01:52PM (#5033820)

    You stand before the fires of Mt. Doom. Hot jets of glowing magma erupt on either side of you, searing your skin. The hair on your toes shrivels and disappears. Above you columns of black smoke billow into the sky.
    To the north is a small rocky ledge above the fires. To the south is a path leading down into Mordor.

    You find it hard to breathe here.

    >drop ring

    Which ring do you mean? The One Ring, or the Copper Ring of Gondor?




    Time passes...

    Your lungs begin to burn.

    >Take ring

    (One Ring) Taken.

    >Drop ring in lava

    Which ring do you mean? The One Ring, or the Copper Ring of Gondor?


    The lava has no good surface to put that on.


    AAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!! Do you feel better?

    You begin to hack and cough from the hot searing fumes.

    >Drop one ring into fires

    You are not close enough to the ledge to drop the ring into the Fires of Mt. Doom!


    You stand before the fires of Mt. Doom. Hot jets of glowing magma erupt on either side of you, searing your skin. The hair on your toes shrivels and disappears. Above you columns of black smoke billow into the sky.
    To the north is a small rocky ledge above the fires. To the south is a path leading down into Mordor.

    You double up with a choking spasm, hacking and coughing.


    You creep out onto the rocky ledge. You look down into the fires. From here you can easily drop the One Ring and complete your quest. Your heart thrills with anticipation!

    You fall to the ground in agony, clutching your throat. The fumes are too much and have overcome you. As you begin to black out, you think to yourself, "I'm sorry Gandolf. I failed. I failed."

    ******* You Have Died **********

    You have earned 275 out 300 points earning you the title of Grand High Elf.

    Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE, or QUIT?

  • first...gandalf wanted to see my ring, but then he left. then he came back, and yelled at me...
    The he made me go away. then I got to this fire, and then I threw my ring in... and Sam was with me.

  • ... what the heck is this damn Soviet Russia joke about?!?

  • If everyone else wrote the book, the book would have been more like the movie. "Hollywoodized" or however you want to state it, more glitz more single powerfull hero, less of the beauty that made up what tolkien made.

    Movie is the best movie ever, but it is a bastardize version of the book.

    So what would have happened? well we can see what did happen. Watch the movie to see.
  • The opening lines of Fishspotting, the story of Gollum:

    Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big horse. Choose tables, chairs, fireplace and a fucking big larder...

    Choose fishing, choose farming, choose good health, high cholesterol and six meals a day. Choose a starter home, choose your friends, choose leisure wear and the matching pipe, choose a three piece suit on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics.

    Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting in that park watching mind-numbing, spirit crushing fireworks, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth.

    Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pissing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked up brats you spawned to replace yourself. Choose your future. Choose life...

    But why would I want to do a thing like that? I chose not to choose life, I chose something else and the reasons? There are no reasons, who needs reasons when you've got the One Ring of Power?

  • by lamontg ( 121211 ) on Tuesday January 07, 2003 @05:06PM (#5035290)
    Gondor... shit.

    I'm still only in Gondor. Every time I think I'm going to wake up
    in Mordor. When I was back in the Shire after my first tour it was worse.
    I'd wake up and I'd be nothing.

    I'm here a week now. Waiting for a quest. Getting softer. Every
    minute I stay in this city I get weaker. Every minute Sauron squats in the
    tower he gets stronger.

    Each time I look around, the Spires of Gondor move in a little closer.

    Everyone gets everything he wants. I wanted a quest, and for my sins
    they gave me one. Brought it up to me like room service. It was a real
    choice quest and when it was over, I'd never want another. I was going to
    the worst place in the world, and I didn't even know it yet. Weeks away
    and over hundreds of miles of trails through blasted landscape like
    a main circuit cable plugged straight into Sauron. It was no accident
    that I got to be the caretaker of the Dark Lord Sauron's memory, any more
    than being back in Gondor was an accident.


    Elrond: Your mission is to proceed down the Anduin River in an Elvish
    row boat. Pick up Sauron's path at the Falls of Rauros. When you find
    Mordor, infiltrate Sauron's borders by whatever means available and
    terminate the Dark Lord's Ring of Power.

    Galadriel: Terminate the Dark Lord.

    Elrond: He's out there operating with any decent restraint, totally beyond
    the pale of Maiar conduct. And he is still in the field commanding orcs.

    Celeborn: Terminate the Dark Lord with extreme prejudice.

    Galadriel: You understand Frodo that this mission does not exist, nor will
    it ever exist.

  • Jack Kerouac as Sam (Score:4, Interesting)

    by pyramid termite ( 458232 ) on Tuesday January 07, 2003 @08:23PM (#5036228)
    So I was just hanging around the hobbit cats, you know, digging the crazy pipe weed and the ale and wondering if I could ever get all the truth of it down, you know, the real deal, not the kind of half baked stuff you watch on the palentir but something that would make my heart whole, when this crazy cat named Biblo and his even crazier nephew Frodo started making a scene with some crazy birthday party where everyone was getting drunk and wailing to the moon and watching Gandalf, that old conjurer cat just get heavy with the fireworks jazz and I was yelling "Go, go, go" with the rest of them and then that Biblo cat gets up on the podium, lays down a nice little riff about how life's too short and sweet to hang out with great cats like us and then he just wigged, said "Goodbye" and POOF! that cat wasn't there. Everyone just flipped.

    A little later, I got a gig as a gardener for Frodo and he used to lay on me all this crazy Elvish poetry about Elvish stuff, real high and mighty and soulful and sad, and one day that Gandalf came by and they were in the study talking away and because I started hearing something about the elves and just knew that Gandalf cat had some wonderful elvish poetry in him, I got too close to the window and started hearing all this wild, crazy talk about this ring Frodo had and this Sauron heavy who wanted to make the world into some kind of soulless meat factory and how he needed this ring to do all this and I guess I must have drank too much for lunch because I let out a little burp under the window and the next thing I know that cat Gandalf's pulling me into the house through the window threatening to turn me into something uncool like a toad and then he looks at me and says, "I know what a cat like you needs to do. You and Frodo need to go on the road."

    And that's how the whole crazy thing started.

Radioactive cats have 18 half-lives.