On the Straight Dope, someone started a thread imagining what the Lord of the Rings would be like if written by another author. I made a small contribution late in the game, but I reproduce it here in case the thread gets archived or my post is taken down. Also, they won't allow me to edit posts there, and I have corrected a couple of minor mistakes.
Strider scanned the Pony quicksville, figuring the players and slotting
conclusions. First conclusion: the shitstorm in the West was stirring up
business for Butterbur. Foregone conclusion: Big man Butterbur was into
rackets up to his eyeballs. Pipeweed, dice, renting rooms by the half-hour
for farmers' sons digging halfling cooze. BIG conclusion: too much
curiousity by some of the customers. BIGGER conclusion: Black Riders
sniffing around. BIGGEST: Four shit-kicking hobbits from the Shire renting
rooms--THEM.
He lit up his own pipe, took two quick hits and scanned more carefully this
time, riding the 'weed tingle behind his eyes. Spies in the corner: too
many eyes in here to take them out. Midget voices, loud: THEM, bullshitting
about the Shire--THEIR home. TOO loud: eyeball men slipping out the door.
Strider crooked a finger at THEIR leader: HIM. He cracked his knuckles,
making fists and motioning HIM to sit down.
"I'm Strider." Hushed voice--sotto fucking voce. "Mr.
Underhill"--crooked smile. The smile says "I know YOU." The smile
says "I know who YOU are." The smile says "I know YOU have IT." His eyes:
not smiling. Frodo's eyes: look away, can't take the heat.
"Your friends have big mouths." Strider leaned back, cracked his knuckles.
"Blotto and talking is not a good combination." Frodo nodded and looked over
at Sam and Pippin: one blabbing--slurred-speech stories bullshit
begging for the next drink. The other one looked back at Frodo.
Strider NEW conclusion: Sam fruit-hinky on Frodo--a complication.
Babysitting four midgets a BIG THING now, Strider reconsidering his deal:
Gandalf, mover, shaker, shakedown artist--you bring the four halflings to
Rivendell or I snitch you to Elrond for Arwen. Gandalf: big time Elf
juice, one of the Wise--no way out. Arwen images floated in behind the
pipeweed: forbidden fruit BIG TIME. More conclusions: Elves do not like Men
getting Elf trim. Second conclusion: Elrond ran the Elf operation in the
North, he ESPECIALLY does not like Men getting Elf trim. Make it three:
Gandalf makes the call, two days later he is nailed to a tree with Elf
arrows through his ball sack.
Three options: grab Arwen and split. No go: Elrond is Outfit, he has juice
everywhere. Gandalf has juice everywhere. Second option: do
as Gandalf says, hand-hold hapless homo halflings to Rivendell. Third
option, VERY TEMPTING: snitch the Ring to Sauron in return for Arwen,
Sauron brings the black curtain down over the West; Elrond neutralized;
Gandalf neutralized; Elves neutralized. Brain jump: Sauron would promise
ANYTHING for Ring. Brain jump: Arwen and Strider living the squarejohn
life in Sauron territory--FUNNY.
Dig: Pippin talking too much. Dig: Frodo jumps up on the table and starts
singing. Strider takes a loooooong hit. Feeling goooooood. He goofs on the
dancing midget. Watch him dance! Watch him sing! Watch him FUCKING
DISAPPEAR! Too stupid: Option three and a half coming into focus--Black
Riders/Weathertop/Four dead midgets.
Funnily enough, since I wrote this there has been some competition.
You can decide which is better. And another, of better quality.
