If LotR had been written by someone else!?

[Lostgaeriel]

The Lord of the Rings written by Murray Burnett & Joan Alison, Julius J. Epstein & Philip G. Epstein and Howard Koch (with some help from Casey Robinson, Lenore Coffee, Aeneas MacKenzie, Wallie Kline).

(Murray Burnett & Joan Alison wrote the original stage play Everybody Comes to Rick’s. Julius J. Epstein & Philip G. Epstein and Howard Koch wrote the Oscar-winning screenplay for the classic movie, Casablanca - Best Picture of 1943. Michael Curtiz won the Academy award for Best Director.)

CÍRDAN: Hello. Hello, radio tower? Haven ship sailing in ten minutes. West slipway. Visibility: one and one half miles. Light fog. Depth of fog: approximately 500. Ceiling: irrelevant. Thank you.
ARAGORN: (indicating the Shipwright) Saruman, have Círdan go with Master Elrond and take care of his luggage.
SARUMAN: (bowing ironically) Certainly Aragorn, anything you say. (to Círdan) Find Master Elrond’s luggage and put it on the ship.
CÍRDAN: Yes, sir. This way please.
The Shipwright escorts Elrond in the direction of the ship. Aragorn takes the letters of transit out of his pocket and hands them to the Wizard, who turns and walks toward the quay.
ARAGORN: If you don’t mind, you fill in the names. That will make it even more official.
SARUMAN: You think of everything, don’t you?
ARAGORN: (quietly) And the names are Elrond and Arwen Half-Elven.
ARWEN: But why my name, Aragorn?
ARAGORN: Because you’re getting on that ship.
ARWEN: (confused) I don’t understand. What about you?
ARAGORN: I’m staying here with him ‘til the ship gets safely away.
ARWEN: No, Aragorn, no. What has happened to you? Last night we said ---
ARAGORN: ---Last night we said a great many things. You said I was to do the thinking for both of us. Well, I’ve done a lot of it since then and it all adds up to one thing. You’re getting on that ship with Elrond where you belong.
ARWEN: (protesting) But Aragorn, no, I, I, --
ARAGORN: -- You’ve got to listen to me. Do you have any idea what you’d have to look forward to if you stayed here? Nine chances out of ten we’d both wind up in Barad-dûr. Isn’t that true, Saruman?
Saruman countersigns the papers.
SARUMAN: I’m afraid the Lord Sauron would insist.
ARWEN: You’re saying this only to make me go.
ARAGORN: I’m saying it because it’s true. Inside of us we both know you belong with Elrond. You’re part of his work, the thing that keeps him going. If that ship leaves the Havens and you’re not with him, you’ll regret it.
ARWEN: No.
ARAGORN: Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon, and for the rest of your life.
ARWEN: But what about us?
ARAGORN: We’ll always have Lothlórien. We didn’t have, we’d lost it, until you came to Rivendell. We got it back last night.
ARWEN: And I said I would never leave you.
ARAGORN: And you never will. But I’ve got a job to do, too. Where I’m going, you can’t follow. What I’ve got to do, you can’t be any part of. Arwen, I’m no good at being noble, but it doesn’t take much to see that the problems of three little people don’t add up to a hill of beans in this crazy Middle-earth. Someday you’ll understand that. Now, now…
Arwen’s eyes well up with tears. Aragorn puts his hand to her chin and raises her face to meet his own.
ARAGORN: Here’s looking at you kid.

I'd go on and finish it – The Black Captain’s been shot. ... Round up the usual suspects. ... Saruman, this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship. - but my previous entry was too long and I don't want to repeat that offence.

[ March 24, 2002: Message edited by: Lostgaeriel ]

[Nevfeniel]

How 'bout John Knowles?

[dragongirlG]

How 'bout John Knowles?

Oooh, I read him a couple months ago...I'll have to think about that.

[Nevfeniel]

Or maybe Shakespeare (someone told me that if you want to understand Shakespeare, all you have to do is put your mind in the gutter)

It would also be weird if the Wachowski brothers (creators of The Matrix) wrote LotR. Whooa. . .

[ April 26, 2002: Message edited by: Nevfeniel ]

[dragongirlG]

Has anyone here read Faulkner's work? How 'bout him? He'd be God-awful hard to do.

[Lostgaeriel]

Sorry, I got no John Knowles, no Faulkner and no Wachowski brothers. Shakespeare is included in spirit in the parody of a Wayne & Shuster TV sketch, 'Rinse the Blood Off My Elf-Cloak' on thread page 2.

I do have this to add. (As usual, I need some serious help with Elvish translations.)

Out-takes and excerpts from The Lord of the Rings as directed by George Roy Hill & written by William Goldman (director & screenwriter, respectively, of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, 1969)

Retitled Frodo (Butch) Baggins and the Samwise Kid

(Crossing the Silverlode on the rope bridge)
LEGOLAS: I can walk this path, but the others have not this skill. Must they swim?
THE SAMWISE KID: I can’t swim.
BUTCH BAGGINS: Why you crazy? The fall will probably kill you.

OR

(The Samwise Kid dives into the Anduin after Butch Baggins takes one of the boats to cross the river above Rauros.)
BUTCH BAGGINS: What’s the matter with you?
THE SAMWISE KID: I can’t swim.
BUTCH BAGGINS: Why you crazy? The Falls will probably kill you.

AND

(The Samwise Kid and Butch Baggins meeting Faramir and the Rangers of Ithilien)
BUTCH BAGGINS: (reading a slip of paper, in halting Sindarin) Til paur menel. (Put your hands up.)
THE SAMWISE KID: They’ve got them up.
BUTCH BAGGINS: (in halting Sindarin) Thanga galadhon. (Stand up against the trees.)
THE SAMWISE KID: They are up against the trees.
...
(upon arriving in Mordor)
BUTCH BAGGINS: You know, it could be worse. You get a lot more for your money in Mordor. I checked on it.
THE SAMWISE KID: What could they have here that you could possibly want to buy?
...
BUTCH BAGGINS: Jeesh, all Mordor can't look like this.
THE SAMWISE KID: How do you know? This might be the garden spot of the whole country. People may travel hundreds of miles just to get to this spot where we're standing now. This might be the Cerin Amroth of all Mordor for all you know.
BUTCH BAGGINS: Look, I know a lot more about Mordor than you know about Cerin Amroth.
THE SAMWISE KID: AHA! You do huh? I was born there; I was born in Lothlórien. Was brought up there, so...
BUTCH BAGGINS: You're from the Golden Wood? I didn't know that.
THE SAMWISE KID: The total tonnage of what you don't know is enough to shatter...
GOLLUM: I'm not sure we're accomplishing as much as we'd like here.
THE SAMWISE KID: (to Gollum) Listen, your job is to back me up, because you'd starve without me. (to Frodo) And you, your job is to shut up!
BUTCH BAGGINS: (to Gollum) He'll feel a lot better after he’s stolen a couple of Rings.
THE SAMWISE KID: Mordor! Ha-ha-ha-haa!
...
(Frodo & Sam crossing Gorgoroth, discussing orcs)
BUTCH BAGGINS: Ah, you're wasting your time. They can't track us over rocks.
THE SAMWISE KID: Tell them that.
BUTCH BAGGINS: (after looking for himself) Who are those guys?
...
BUTCH BAGGINS: How many of them are following us?
THE SAMWISE KID: All of them!
...
GOLLUM: (singing) The Road goes ever on and on / Down from the door where it began. / Now far ahead the Road has gone, / And I must follow, if I can, / Pursuing it with eager feet, / Until it joins some larger way / Where many paths...
BUTCH BAGGINS: (interrupting) I think they're in the trees up ahead.
THE SAMWISE KID: In the bushes on the left.
BUTCH BAGGINS: I'm telling you, they're in the trees up ahead.
THE SAMWISE KID: You take the trees; I'll take the bushes.
GOLLUM: Will you two beginners cut it out!
BUTCH BAGGINS: Well, we're just trying to spot an ambush, Mr. Gollum.
GOLLUM: Morons. I've got morons on my team. Nobody is going to rob us going up the Mountain. We have got no Ring going up the Mountain. When we have got the Ring, on the way back, then you can sweat.

[ April 30, 2002: Message edited by: Lostgaeriel ]

[Lostgaeriel]

By the way, you all know the other Newman & Redford movie directed by George Roy Hill, this time with screenplay by David S. Ward. It was obviously based on The Hobbit by JRRT - an elaborate con game designed to look like a treasure-seeking, dragon-slaying adventure but with the purpose of wresting the Ring from Gollum.

I'm talking about The Sting, of course! [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img]

[Luntindomeiel]

LOL!!!!!!

[Nevfeniel]

Ooh, even though no one ever answers these questions, how did you do that smiley thing with the stick-poking?

Lord of the Rings, by K.A. Applegate, author of Animorphs.

My name is Frodo.

Just Frodo. I can't tell you my last name, or where I am.

But I can tell you, my friends and I-- we're fighting for the survival of Middle-Earth.

You're probably thinking, yeah right. I know-- I probably would have said the same thing, back when I lived in my old, cozy hobbit-hole.

You see, we're the whole army, the nine of us. When it comes down to it, it's just us, alone, against Sauron's minions and all the evil in Middle-Earth.

I know, I know. Sounds like I'm crazy, right? Well it's all true.

This isn't your standard-type war. Because there's this ring, right? On its own, it's nothing. Just metal. A small, insignificant little ring. Harmless.

That's why it needs someone to be its host.

It can get inside your mind, seep into the crevices of your brain, see your every want and desire.

It will tap into that, and control you. Your every move will be dominated by the ring. It will own you. Completely. You will be a slave in your own mind.

The ring can control anyone. Anyone. It could be your best friend. Your mother. Your kindly old grandpa Bilbo.

For all we know, it could be you.

[greyhavener]

I love these. Austen and Twain were my favorites. And of course Monty Python. Here's my idea.

If Mel Brooks had written LOTR

Scene 140: Gift-giving in Lorien

Glad-gal shimmys over to Arrogant. "Maybe this will lighten your heart for it was left in my care to give to you"
She removes a forty pound silver brooch with two large prongs protruding straight out from her cape. As the cape falls away considerable cleavage is revealed.
Arrogant (leers into her bosum) "How about lightening it a little bit more."
Arrogant pins the brooch in the center of his chest, loses his balance and falls forward onto his face.

Glad-gal moves on to Boringmore, Nerdy and Drippin all of whom have mullet haircuts and presents them with western belts with ornate buckles about ten inches in diameter emblazoned with each of their names.

To Legless the elf she presents two prosthesis. Gimli clumsily tries to help him attach them to his stumps.

Glad-gal turns to Samwich who looks at her expectantly. "For you I have..."
She gazes around with frantically. She rushes over to a tree and picks up a box and hastily fills it with dirt.

Meanwhile Glumly has managed to get the legs on Legless backwards.
Legless takes two steps backwards and the legs fall off.
He picks one up and hits Glumly on the head.

Glad-gal straightens up and with much flourish she presents Samwich with the box.
"...a box of dirt!" she declares triumphantly.

She turns to Glumly. "Nothing for you...elves don't like dwarves."

Legless throws the other leg and knocks Glumly out.

Glad-gal turns to Frobro, a black hobbit with a gigantic afro.
"For you, I have prepared this phial" She hand him a small glass phial.
Frobro puts the phial into his hair where it disappears.
"I also packed lembas for you to eat on the way."
She hand Samwich a picnic basket covered with a red checkered tablecloth.

All the elves (about 50) begin doing the limbo singing "lembas, lembas, lembas, lembas"

Frobro bows to Glad-gal and several knives, a pipe, the phial, keys, a hair pick, and a condom fall out of his hair. He hastily picks it all up and puts it all back in where it disappears.

The company departs with Boringmore dragging an unconscious Glumly.

Legless follows several feet behind the rest with his legs attached but hinged somewhat sideways.

END OF SCENE

[Lostgaeriel]

LOL! [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img] [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img] [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img] [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img] [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img] [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img] [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img] [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img]
Well done, greyhavener!
Robin Hood: Men in Tights, indeed! (I've never actually watched it.)
I luv Mel Brooks (but best of all when he worked with Gene Wilder).
Thanks!

[ May 04, 2002: Message edited by: Lostgaeriel ]

You ought to get a laugh out of this link. LotR, as an early black+white film: http://ringil.cis.ksu.edu/Tolkien/Movie/lotr.mov

And now, I know its been done, but I've had some of these ideas in my head for a while, so LotR by Mark Twain:

It was hot in those Cracks of Doom, powerful hot, the kind of hot that really gets to a body, and Sam found it mighty oppressive.
"Oh, Mistah Frodo, where are you?" he called out, his voice saying everything about how desperate he was. He couldn't hear Frodo for anything, but just then, he heard another familiar voice, crazy as a drunk bull.
"Precious! Precious, ah' say, precious!" It was Gollum, that damned fool of an injun, and Sam knew he was up to mischief of some awful kind.
Sam ran forward. He was scared, sure, he was powerful scared, but he didn't trust Injun Gollum one half as much as he could throw him, and the thought of losing Mr. Frodo and the Ring...after all, he'd promised Judge Gandalf and Senator Elrond to keep an eye on Frodo, and a promise is a promise, right?

Injun Gollum? Senator Elrond!? XD! Funny, funny.

Good to see a fellow Nazgûl here, my fiend! Even better, we both quoted the Witch-King in our sigs! Your quote was my second favorite thing said by him, by the way.

[Nevfeniel]

Shakespeare is included in spirit in the parody of a Wayne & Shuster TV sketch, 'Rinse the Blood Off My Elf-Cloak' on thread page 2.

Oops, I wasn't aware of that. sorry. . .

[Lostgaeriel]

Oh no, Nevfeniel, don't be sorry. We could use a version as if written by the Bard himself. I just thought if you were perusing and wanted to read one already posted that recalls Shakespeare you could read that one for now. (It's not very Shakespearean anymore - a parody of a parody. All it's got left is the plot of Julius Caesar - sort of.)

I didn't mean to be off-putting.

[Ithaeliel]

Wow...
You guys are really good at this! It's fun!
Out of all the ones I've read so far, I think the Pooh one is my favorite. [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img]

By the way, it's the first time I've ever been to this one forum, so... to those who don't know me, hi!!!
I can't write like that, so I'll just sit here and read and enjoy. [img]smilies/tongue.gif[/img]

[Nar]

Sackville-Baggins (if Shakespeare had written it)

Dramatis Personae

Sackville-Baggins
Lady Sackville-Baggins

The three weird elves

Batchelor-Emiretus Bilbo of Bag End
Frodo, his heir

Act I, Scene 1: A barren heath. Sounds of triumphal looting and pillage are heard in the distance:
Glugging of ale, bad yet vigorous singing-- typical late-stage birthday party.
Enter three weird elves.
1 Elf When shall we elves meet again? In battle, banquet, or perchance second breakfast?
2 Elf You are really a hobbit!!
1 Elf I'm not! I'm an elf! Well, there may be a little Fallohide on my mother's side...
3 Elf To the point! Meetings! (evilly) When their corner-filling's done.
When the battle's lost and won.
2 Elf That will be ere the set of the sun.
1 Elf Where the place?
2 Elf Upon the heath.
All: There to meet with S-Baggins!
Fair is foul, and foul is fair:
Hover through the fog and filthy air. (all run around in circles waving their arms)

Scene 2: The birthday-party, near the remaining casks of Ale
Frodo: This is the man, who like a good and hardy soldier, fought
'gainst my choking on that piece of cake. (indicates Sackville-Baggins)
Sackville-Baggins: (modestly) I call it the Sackville Maneuver. Here, let me demonstrate--
Bilbo: (hastily) NO! Hands! Off waist! Off! (Pushes Otho away)
'Tis quite all right, we'll take your word for it.
Frodo: Doubtful it stood, whether my spent lungs could expell yon lumpen cake,
when brave Otho (well he deserves that name)
Disdaining fortune, with his brandished fists,
like Valour's minion carved my passage!
Bilbo: O valiant cousin! Worthy gentleman!

Scene 3: The heath, sunset. Enter the three weird elves
All: The Weird Elves, hand in hand,
Grifters of the sea and land.
Thrice to thine, and thrice to mine,
And three rings we lifted at Harborside,
Then back again, to the Shire fine!
No way we take ship to the Boringest Lands!
(They wave Nenya, Vilya, and that other ring in the air)
1 Elf: But hist! Here comes the Sackville-Baggins!
(Sackville-Baggins comes nigh, sneezing into a large camberic hankerchief, as it is allergy season on the heath)

Sackville-Baggins: Spoons! Commemorative Spoons! Not even a full set--
I saw Bilbo putting aside the diamond jubilee double-sided grapefruit spoon
with her graciousness Queen Arwen molded on the handle in bas-relief!
Why, the collection is worthless without it!
(thoughtfully) So foul and fair a birthday-party I have not seen.
(notices the three; starts theatrically) Elves! Weird ones! Speak, if you can!
Mean you foul, or mean you fair? Say, would you like to purchase a lovely set of silver spoons?
3 Elf: All hail, Sackville-Baggins!
Hail to thee, Guardian of the silver spoons, albeit virtually worthless
without the silver jubilee yadda yadda Queen Arwen!
(Sackville-Baggins sadly stashes the oaken case of spoons back under his cloak)
2 Elf: All hail, Sackville-Baggins!
Hail to thee, formerly heir-presumptive of Bag End!
Sackville-Baggins: (Grumpily) I had not heard elves were so evil-spoken.
1 Elf: All hail, Sackville-Baggins, that shall live, as who should say,
A Bachelor-Emiretus in Bag-End forever!
Sackville-Baggins: What? And rid me of Lobelia? When! How?!
All: Away! Away! Away! (they begin to slink away)
Sackville-Baggins: Stay, you imperfect speakers, tell me more:
By Frodo's life I know I have the spoons,
By Bilbo's deed I know I am the former Baggins-presumptive of Bag-End.
(Aside: Sackville! Ackk! Lobelia!!! Who ever heard of a Hobbit with hyphens!)
But how a Bachelor-Emiretus? And how in Bag-End? And how forever?
All: (dancing in a circle) We have Rings of Three, but Ring of One there be,
Destroyed? We think not! Gollum's well known
Cliff climbing talent militates against it!
Hasty, hasty Hobbits not to check!
Clever, clever Otho here to quest!
All this can be! Fled to west, Bilbo could be,
Good heir Frodo seeks him at sea!
Lobelia, fading wraith of Hobbitry,
New-founded Queen of the Nazgul!
Otho, Otho, Otho of Bag End
Otho Baggins, Bachelor of Bag End!
Here, take it!
(1 Elf hands him the One Ring, which he has had concealed in his waistcoat pocket)
Sackville-Baggins: (staring from ring in his hand to 1 Elf and back again)
Don't you want it?
1 Elf: I already have Galadriel's ring. This one had begun to gall me.
(dramatic pause) Precioussss.
(looks blissfully at the gleaming white ring of the water fountains on his hand)
2 Elf: I knew you were really a hobbit!!!
Sackville-Baggins: (starting theatrically, clutching the One Ring to chest)
Can it be?
1 Elf: Yes, it is I, Gollum-Smeagol. Smeagol the magnificent!
King Smeagol, taker of fissh! With my ring of sparkling water,
I command the silver-slipping fissh from the brown-dappled brook.
Straight into Smeagol's clever fingers they come leaping!
Nice Fissh! Fisssh now; Fisssshhh every day, and keep nasssty taters!
Ha ha hahahaha! (darts off in the general direction of the Brandywine)

[Lostgaeriel]

Oooooh, Nar, it's brilliant!!! [img]smilies/cool.gif[/img]

[Birdland]

It is a tale told by a silly hobbit, full of sound and fury signifying preciousss little. [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img]

Way to go, Nar!

[zifnab]

Hello, I’m Nigel Marvin your correspondent today for ‘Nigel’s Wild Wild World™’. And today we are really thick about it now, we are trying to bring in the notoriously deadly Nazgûl tonight. We are actually getting desperate today, the condition and the visible level was good yesterday, I don’t know what’s going on here. But we did not see one deadly Nazgûl. They’re actually being very allusive. But maybe with the help of our top cameramen, Hank Didntjaseeit, we will finally be able to film them.

We have brought in a ‘Nazgûl Expert’ to help us in the Myth of the creatures. And their favorite locations, foods, habits and activities and even some history. Meet Joe Snickeryberger, and even with all his help it, doesn’t seem to help much, since conditions are perfect and still no sign of the Nazgûl. We are actually filming in an area that is not highly populated, so that we can see the creature in all its glory and put on a ‘true’ performance.

I believe the natives of the area call it, Amon Sûl or WeatherTop. Which is located at the southern end of the Weather Hills. Joe tells us these are ancient hills that were once crowned with a huge tower that was built by one of the natives called Elendil. He says the Nazgûl are mostly ‘Night faring creatures’ about the shape of a man, but much more deadly. They stalk in packs, and appear to be on the Endangered Species List. If that’s good or bad, we don’t know for sure. Joe says their history dates back thousands of years, to a lunatic of a man that wanted ‘special pets’ he corrupted them in a way. Talk about a warped Dr. Moreau! That is if you believe ancient myth.

We should count are blessings. A few days before we came out here, October the 3rd, there was a freak natural occurrence that was pretty close to WeatherTop. It appeared that lightening was coming from the ground up. We only hope that it didn’t scare off the Nazgûl. That would really put a damper on our documentary. Are sponsors would have blown a gasket.

We will be right back though!

-break to commercial-

It is now October 6th, and its our second day of nothing. But are spirits have not failed us yet. Joe believes that the Nazgûl will be around here. The natives say ‘Black Creatures are following their prey’ around this area. So hopefully we didn’t lug out all this camera equipment for nothing. Were going to do a double check to make sure everything is set-up properly, since its mid-afternoon we don’t suspect we will see any Nazgûl.

-A few hours Pass, while the camera only records round after round of ‘Thumb-Wars’ between Joe and Nigel.-

Well, it’s Nigel again, and it appears that a few travelers have come this way, and heading up towards the Hill. A weather-beaten man, and four small children. The natives call these ‘Hobbits’. Joe thinks the name is translated to ‘Hairy footed short people’ in their native tongue. It appears they have made camp on the hill, and are telling campfire stories. While we do believe in ‘Invasion of Privacy’ we will not report back to you exactly what they’re talking about. They appear to be spooked though.

- The cold increases as darkness comes on. The sky above has cleared again and is slowly filling in with twinkling stars.-

-Silence-

- The waxing moon has climbed slowly above the hill that overshadowed them, and the stars above the hill-top faded-

Its me, Nigel, again. And I think we have something this time. If you look very closer, you will see 3 or 4 black shaped Men looking down on the travelers on the hill, just outside of the light of the fire. Even from here, we can tell their appearance is commanding and indeed scary. The sure do have the travelers spooked, that’s for sure! Whoa, what a minute! Can you hear that?

-Silence-

- A faint hiss as of venomous breath and a thin piercing chill is felt and heard throughout the area-

Yes, folks, Joe confirms that these are the deadly Nazgûl, and that their trademark ‘hiss, screech’ can not be mistaken. This is remarkable! On, no, wait right there. It appears the Nazgûl are approaching on the travelers. I take that back, there are five tall figures! Two standing on the lip of the dell, three advancing. I can almost make out their faces. Whoaaaa, it looks like on their white faces, their eyes burn with a inner fuel! Wait, here they come, they are springing on one of the Hobbits! Remember that we always let Nature take its course, it is not our place to interfere and disrupt the balance.

-You can hear Joe chant, ‘Go Hobbit Go’. And Nigel hitting him in the back of the head.-

It appears that the hobbit as disappeared! What a defence mechanism, it appears he can burrow. It doesn’t seem that the Nazgûl are tricked though! What, a minute, it appears it has worked. It seems the Nazgûl are retreating. Well, that was quite an experience. We have finally filmed the Nazgûl in their natural habitat. Isn’t that right Hank?

-Silence-

-Break too commercial-

[ May 09, 2002: Message edited by: zifnab ]

[Nar]

Zifnab, that was great! I think they got Hank! Would getting taken by a Nazgul qualify as interfering in the natural order of things?
Lostgaeriel, Birdland, thanks! Lostgaeriel, Rinse the Blood off my Elf-Cloak was great!

[ May 13, 2002: Message edited by: Nar ]

[Lostgaeriel]

Holy Zarqon! uh, no I mean Aina Elbereth! Someone liked Rinse the Blood Off My Elf-Cloak!!! Thanks Nar!

I was afraid no one would even read it 'cause it was so LONG. I'm so happy that someone enjoyed it - besides me! It took many, many long hours - even with a copy-and-pasted transcript of the original W&S sketch to work from! I can die happy now.

[ May 18, 2002: Message edited by: Lostgaeriel ]

[*Varda*]

omg these are all so amazing! i won't add to it because i know i couldn't write anything even half as good as these but they're GREAT! [img]smilies/eek.gif[/img] [img]smilies/eek.gif[/img] [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img]

[Estelyn Telcontar]

What if another Oxford professor had written „The Lord of the Rings“? Here is Lewis Carroll’s version:

(Interestingly, this is a parody of a parody – Carroll’s poem made fun of an older, quite serious and highly edifying one! [img]smilies/wink.gif[/img] )

‘You are old, Uncle Bilbo,’ young Frodo said,
‘And your age should be showing by now;
Yet you look well-preserved besides being well-fed,
Just what is your secret, say how?’

‘In my youth,’ answered Bilbo, ‘I went down the road,
Hunting treasure with dwarves, that’s the thing!
And a trinket I won was worth more than the load,
Gollum’s precious came to me, the ring!’

‘You are old, Wizard Gandalf,’ said Frodo, ‘and wise,
And your beard is exceedingly long;
Yet you have quite a desperate look in your eyes –
Pray tell me, what is it that’s wrong?’

‘Is it safe?’ asked the wizard, ‘have you hidden it well?
Have you kept it secure from all harm?
For Gollum did Sauron of ‘Baggins, Shire’ tell,
The Council must hear the alarm.’

‘Lady Galadriel,’ said Frodo, ‘you are old, so they say
And are wearing a ring on your hand;
Your wisdom is great, and you’ve helped us today,
But your mirror I don’t understand.’

‘In my youth,’ sighed the Elf-Queen, ‘I misunderstood
And asked it: ‘Who’s fairest and best?’
But now that my granddaughter’s prettier than I,
I guess I will go to the West.’

‘You are ancient, o Ringwraith,’ young Frodo said,
‘And I fear you intend me no good,
Between shoulder and crown there existeth no head,
What is it that keeps up your hood?’

‘You impertinent hobbit, have you no respect?’
Said the Nazgûl, ‘now fear me and die!’
Yet Frodo and Samwise to Mt. Doom then trekked
And destroyed both the ring and the Eye!

[Birdland]

"Bravo, Estelyn Telcontar!"

(Alice and Diana stand and give a rousing round of applause for your recitation. The White Rabbit would have enjoyed it as well, but he was late and had to leave.)

Which brings to mind: I wonder what Tolkien thought of Lewis Carroll?

[ June 26, 2002: Message edited by: Birdland ]

[NazgulNumber10]

what about douglas adams who wrote the hickhiker's guide to the galaxy seires?
i'm too tired to write that now, so i'll leave you with this thought
Sam the mechanically depressed hobbit?
[img]smilies/evil.gif[/img]

[Calencoire]

I'm just glad none of these authors wrote it JRRT is the best! I like the Dr. Suess one though. That was funny. [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img]

[*Varda*]

There is already a Douglas Adams version a little further back in the thread. But don't let that put you off writing your own version!

[The Squatter of Amon Rûdh]

Fëar and Loathing in Minas Morgul by Hunter S. Thompson

We were somewhere around Cirith Ungol on the edge of the Black Land when the pipeweed began to take hold. I remember saying something like "I feel a bit lightheaded; maybe you should take the Ring..." And suddenly there was this terrible gurgling all around us and the dark was full of what looked like huge eyes, all swooping towards us, while our hearts were going about a hundred beats-per-minute, Hell-bent for Mordor. And a voice was screaming: "Holy Elbereth! What is that Eru-damned animal?"
Then it was quiet again. My valet was stumbling blindly "What in Angband are you yelling about?" he muttered, staring up at the dark with his eyes closed and covered with what felt like hanging growths. "Never mind," I said. "It's your turn to lead." I hit the brakes and steered myself to the edge of the passage. No point mentioning those eyes, I thought. The poor wight will see them soon enough.
It was almost noon, and we still had more than a hundred miles to go. They would be tough miles. Very soon, I knew, we would both be completely twisted. But there was no going back, and no time to rest. We would have to walk it out. Bearer registration for the destruction of the famous One Ring was already underway and we had to get there within twelve days to claim our ride from Gwaihir. A fashionable Elf-Lord in Imaldris had taken care of the reservations... and I was, after all, an amateur Ringbearer; so I had an obligation to destroy the Ring, for good or ill.

[Shadowstrife911]

Lord of the Rings by Monty Python
SCENE 1
[Enter the 9 Ringwraiths, Servants of Sauron in search of the One Ring]
[eerie music]
WITCH KING: Ni! Ni! Ni! Ni!
GOLLUM: Nooo…who are yousss?
WITCH KING: We are the Nazgul, Servants of Sauron!
GOLLUM: No! Not the Nazgul, Servants of Sauron!
WITCH KING: The same!
GOLLUM: What issss it you wantsss ?…yes
WITCH KING: We are the Seekers of the One Ring of Power
GOLLUM: My precioussss, yesss…..
WITCH KING: Whats that?
GOLLUM: Whatsss isss what?
WITCH KING: Your precious. What is it you speak of?
GOLLUM: uhhh nothingsss.. yesss…
WITCH KING: Then you leave us no choice, we shall unleash the most powerful weapon of the Dark Lord, Sauron upon thee. [Witch King snaps his fingers]
8 RINGWRAITHS: Ni! Ni! Ni! Ni!
GOLLUM: Noooo, sssstopss it!
WITCH KING: Out with it.
GOLLUM: Precioussss is ring.
WITCH KING: The One Ring ?
GOLLUM: Preciousss is one ring, not two!
WITCH KING: Where is it?
GOLLUM: I don not knowssss
WITCH KING: [begins to snap his fingers]
GOLLUM: Bagginsss! SsssshIre!!

[eerie music]
[The 9 Ringwraiths depart to the Shire]

[Iargwath]

Hehehe these are really good. Some of u guys are really talented writers. Keep up the great work. Im rather fond of the works of Alexandre Dumas...myb one of u guys could give that a shot.
Oh and the Jane Austen one is really really funny [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img]

[Kaszul]

Dang!, someone got the the "Knights who say Ni!" before me. What the heck, here's my version anyway.


[spooky music]
[music stops]
Eomer: Rohan!
Riders of Rohan: Rohan! Rohan! Rohan! Rohan!
Aragorn: Who are you?
Eomer: We are the Riders of Rohan... 'Rohan'!
RANDOM: Rohan!
Aragorn: No! Not the Riders of Rohan!
Eomer: The same!
Gimli: Who are they?
Eomer: We are the horse lords, keepers of the Gap of Rohan!
RANDOM: Gap of Rohan!
Aragorn: Those who face them seldom live to tell the tale.
Eomer: The Riders of Rohan demand to know your buissness in our land.
Aragorn: Riders of Rohan, we are but simple travellers who seek the Orc horde who kidnapped our halfling friends.
Eomer: Rohan!
Riders of Rohan: Rohan! Rohan! Rohan! Rohan!
Aragorn: Ow! Ow! Ow! Agh!
Eomer: We shall say 'Rohan' again to you if you do not appease us.
Aragorn: Well, what is it you want?
Eomer: We want... a shrubbery!
[dramatic chord]
Aragorn: A what?
Riders of Rohan: Rohan! Rohan! Rohan! Rohan! Rohan!
Aragorn and Party: Ow! Oh!
Aragorn: Please! Please! No more! We will find you a shrubbery.
Eomer: You must return here with a shrubbery, or else, you will never pass through this gap... alive.
Aragorn: O Riders of Rohan, you are just and fair, and we will return with a shrubbery.
Eomer: One that looks nice.
Aragorn: Of course.
Eomer: And not too expensive.
Aragorn: Yes.
Eomer: Now... go!

I know the shrubbery part was a little uninventive, but I love that off the wall demand. [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img]

[Lostgaeriel]

The Lord of the Rings— as originally written by J.R.R. Tolkien but with random scribblings by Douglas Adams added to the professor’s manuscript:

GANDALF: This is the Master-ring, the One Ring to rule them all. This is the One Ring that he lost many ages ago, to the great weakening of his power. He greatly desires it – but he must not get it.
FRODO: This ring! How, how on earth did it come to me?
GANDALF: Ah! That is a very long story. The beginnings lie back in the Black Years, which only the lore-masters now remember. If I were to tell you all that tale, we should still be sitting here when Spring had passed into Winter.
But last night I told you of Sauron the Great, the Dark Lord. The rumours that you have heard are true: he has indeed arisen again and left his hold in Mirkwood and returned to his ancient fastness in the Dark Tower of Mordor. That name even you hobbits have heard of, like a shadow on the borders of old stories. Always after a defeat and a respite, the Shadow takes another shape and grows again.
FRODO: I wish it need not have happened in my time.
GANDALF: So do I, and so do all who live to see such times. But it is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us. And already, Frodo, our time is beginning to look black. Ah, well. Time is an illusion. Lunchtime doubly so. Drink up; the world is about to end.

[ October 18, 2002: Message edited by: Lostgaeriel ]

[Lostgaeriel]

Another version of The Lord of the Rings written as a radio play by Douglas Adams:

SAM: It’s no good, the Warg missiles are swinging round after us and gaining fast. We are quite definitely going to die.
LEGOLAS the SHIPBOARD COMPUTER: Impact minus five seconds.
BOROMIR: Why doesn’t anyone turn on this One Ring Improbability Drive thing?
ARAGORN: Don’t be silly, you can’t do that.
BOROMIR: Why not? There’s nothing to lose at this stage.
ARAGORN: Does anyone know why Boromir can’t turn on the One Ring Improbability Drive?
LEGOLAS the SHIPBOARD COMPUTER: Impact minus one second, it’s been great knowing you guys, Eru bless.
ARAGORN: I said does anyone know…
F/X: TREMENDOUS EXPLOSION, WHICH FAIRLY QUICKLY TRANSFORMS ITSELF INTO A LITTLE DRIBBLE OF FAIRLY LIGHT FILM MUSIC AND DIES AWAY
GANDALF: What the Udûn happened?
BOROMIR: Well, I was just saying, there’s this Ring, uh, switch here you see and…
GANDALF: Where are we Aragorn?
ARAGORN: Exactly where we were I think.
GANDALF: Then what’s happened to the Warg missiles?
GIMLI: Er, well according to this screen they’ve just turned into a bowl of elanor and a very surprised looking Balrog.
LEGOLAS the SHIPBOARD COMPUTER: At an improbability factor of eight million, seven hundred and sixty seven thousand, one hundred and twenty eight to one against.
GANDALF: Did you think of that Man of Gondor?
BOROMIR: Well, all I did was…
GANDALF: That’s very good thinking, you know that? You just saved our lives.
BOROMIR: Oh it was nothing, really.
GANDALF: Oh was it? Well, forget it. OK Computer, take us in to land.
F/X: CHANGE OF NOTE IN ROCKET DRIVE
BOROMIR: Well, I say it was nothing…I mean obviously it was something, I was just trying to say it’s not worth making too much of a fuss about…I mean just saving everybody’s life…
GRAMS: NARRATOR BACKGROUND
NARRATOR: Another thing that no one made too much fuss about was the fact that against all probability, a Balrog had suddenly been called into existence some miles above the Misty Mountains. And since this is not a naturally tenable position for a Balrog, this innocent creature had very little time to come to terms with its identity as a Balrog before it had to come to terms with suddenly not being a Balrog anymore. This is what it thought as it fell.
F/X: POP AS OF BALROG SUDDENLY COMING INTO EXISTENCE SOME MILES ABOVE THE MISTY MOUNTAINS. INCREASING WIND
Ah! What’s happening? Er, excuse me, who am I? Hello? Why am I here? What’s my purpose in life? What do I mean by who am I? Calm down, get a grip now. Oh, this is an interesting sensation…what is it? It’s a sort of yawning tingling sensation in my…my…well I suppose I’d better start finding names for things if I want to make any headway in what for the sake of what I shall call an argument I shall call the world, so let’s call it my stomach. So…a yawning tingling sensation in my stomach. Good. Ooooh, it’s getting quite strong. And hey, what about this whistling roaring sound going past what I’m suddenly going to call my head? Head, that sounds good, yeah, head, good solid ring to it…and the whistling roaring sound, that can be wind…is that a good name? It’ll do…perhaps I can find a better name for it later when I’ve found out what it’s for, because there certainly seems to be an Udûn of a lot of it. Hey, what are these things, these…let’s call them wings…yeah, wings, hey I can really thrash them about pretty good can’t I? Wow. Wow. Hey. Don’t seem to achieve much but I’ll probably find out what they’re for later on. Now—have I built up any coherent picture of things yet? No. Oh. Hey, this is really exciting, so much to find out about, so much to look forward to, I’m quite dizzy with anticipation…or is it the wind? Hey, there really is a lot of that now isn’t there? And wow, what’s this thing suddenly coming towards me very fast? Very very fast…so big and flat and wide it needs a big wide sounding word…like round…round…ground! That’s it, ground! I wonder if it will be friends with me?
F/X: SOUND OF BALROG HITTING THE GROUND AT SEVERAL HUNDRED MILES PER HOUR
(Pause)
GRAMS: NARRATOR BACKGROUND
Curiously enough the only thing that went through the mind of the bowl of elanor as it fell was ‘Oh no, not again’. Many people have speculated if we knew exactly why the bowl of elanor had thought that we would know a lot more about the nature of the universe than we do now.
Meanwhile, the Fellow-ship, ‘Ring of Gold’ has landed on the surface of Middle-earth—at the Sirannon, and Sam is about to make one of the most important statements of his life. Its importance is not immediately recognised by his companions.
SAM: Hey, my pony has escaped.
GANDALF: Nuts to your pony.
NARRATOR: It is possible that Sam’s observation would have commanded greater attention had it been generally realized that the free peoples were only the third most intelligent life forms in Middle-earth instead of as was generally thought by most independent observers, the second.
GANDALF: (Very efficiently) OK, run atmospheric checks on the Mines of Moria.
F/X FLURRY OF VERY FAST COMPUTER VOICES RINGING AROUND THE SHIP IN WONDERFUL STEREO, REELING OFF MOSTLY LISTS OF INCOMPREHENSIBLE NUMBERS: A FEW RECOGNISABLE WORDS LIKE ATMOSPHERIC COMPOSITION, OXYGEN, NITROGEN, CARBON DIOXIDE, ORC BREATH, GOBLIN GAS, TROLL TOXINS, ATMOSPHERIC PRESSURE, GRAVITATIONAL ANOMALIES, ETC.
(Meanwhile the others continue talking)
ARAGORN: Are we taking this hobbit-robot?
FRODO: (Dejectedly) Don’t feel you have to take any notice of me please.
GANDALF: Oh, Frodo the Paranoid Ringbearer, yeah, we’ll take him.
BOROMIR: What are you supposed to do with a manically depressed hobbot?
FRODO: You think you’ve got problems. What are you supposed to do if you are a manically depressed hobbot? No, don’t try and answer that, I’m fifty thousand times more intelligent than you and even I don’t know the answer. It gives me a headache just trying to think down to your level.
F/X ALL THE COMPUTER VOICES SUDDENLY STOP TOGETHER
GANDALF: Well? What’s the result?
VOICES: (All together) It’s OK but it smells a bit.
GANDALF: OK everybody, let’s go.
LEGOLAS the SHIPBOARD COMPUTER: (His voice has undergone a radical change and now sounds like a prep school matron) Good afternoon boys.
SAM: What’s that?
GANDALF: Oh. That’s the computer. I discovered it had an emergency back-up personality which I thought might be marginally preferable.
LEGOLAS the SHIPBOARD COMPUTER: Now, this is going to be your first day in the Mines of Moria, so I want you all wrapped up snug and warm and no playing with any naughty bug-eyed goblins.
GIMLI: I think we’d be better off with a slide rule.
LEGOLAS the SHIPBOARD COMPUTER: Right, who said that?
GANDALF: Will you open up the exit hatch please, computer?
LEGOLAS the SHIPBOARD COMPUTER: Not until whoever said that owns up.
ARAGORN: Oh Ilúvatar.
LEGOLAS the SHIPBOARD COMPUTER: Come on.
GANDALF: Computer…
LEGOLAS the SHIPBOARD COMPUTER: I’m waiting. I can wait all day if necessary.
GIMLI: Computer, if you don’t open that exit hatch this moment I shall go straight to your major data banks with a very large axe and give you a reprogramming you’ll never forget, is that clear?
(Pause)
LEGOLAS the SHIPBOARD COMPUTER: I can see this relationship is something we’re all going to have to work at.
F/X EXIT HATCH OPENS. FAINT SOUND OF WIND
GANDALF: Thank you, let’s go.
F/X: THEY EXIT
LEGOLAS the SHIPBOARD COMPUTER: It’ll all end in tears, I know it.
F/X: HATCH CLOSES LEAVING TOTAL SILENCE. WIND
GRAMS: PINK FLOYD ‘SHINE ON YOU CRAZY DIAMOND’ INTRO. FROM THE ALBUM ‘WISH YOU WERE HERE’
(They all have to shout into the wind)
SAM: It’s fantastic!
ARAGORN: Desolate hole if you ask me.
PIPPIN: It’s bloody cold. It all looks so stark and dreary.
SAM: I think it’s absolutely fantastic!…It’s only just getting through to me…a whole alien country, hundreds of miles from home. Pity it’s such a dump though. Where’s Gandalf?
GANDALF: (Calling from a distance) Hey! Just beyond this lake you can see the remains of the ancient city of Khazad-dûm.
ARAGORN: What does it look like?
GANDALF: Bit of a dump. Come on over. Oh and watch out for all the bits of Balrog-meat.
GRAMS: THEY ARE ALL WALKING OFF AND THEIR VOICES FADE, WITH THE MUSIC
SAM: Do you realize that hobbot can hum like Pink Floyd? What else can you do Frodo?
FRODO: Rock and roll?
F/X & GRAMS: AS THEY FADE INTO THE DISTANCE THE PINK FLOYD MUSIC CHANGES ABRUPTLY INTO ‘ROCK AND ROLL MUSIC’ BY THE FAB FOUR WITH JUST A SLIGHT ELECTRONIC DISTORT AND ECHO TO MAKE IT CLEAR THAT THE HOBBOT IS IN FACT SINGING IT
SAM: I wish I knew where my pony was.
GANDALF: (Approaching) OK, I’ve found a way in.
PIPPIN: In? In what?
GANDALF: Down to the interior of the mountains – that’s where we have to go. Where no Dwarf has trod these twenty-five years, into the very depths of time itself…
PIPPIN: You mean the shallows of time, don’t you?
GRAMS: THEME MUSIC FROM 2001 (ALSO SPRACH ZARATHUSTRA) HAS BEEN BUILDING UP UNDER THIS AND NOW REACHES A CLIMAX
GANDALF: Can it, Frodo.
GRAMS: 2001 THEME STOPS ABRUPTLY
PIPPIN: Why underground?
GANDALF: Well according to the legends the Dwarves lived most of their lives underground.
MERRY: Why, did the surface become too polluted or overpopulated?
GANDALF: No, I think they just didn’t like it very much.
BOROMIR: Gandalf, are you sure you know what you’re doing? We’ve been attacked three times already you know.
GANDALF: Look, I promise you, the live population of this region is nil plus the seven of us.
SAM: And one pony.
GANDALF: And one pony if you insist.
ARAGORN: Come on, let’s go if we’re going.
GANDALF: Er, hey, Halfling …
SAM: Samwise.
GANDALF: Could you sort of keep the hobbot with you and guard this end of the passageway, OK?
SAM: Guard, what from? You just said there’s no one here.
GANDALF: Yeah, well just for safety OK?
SAM: Whose? Yours or mine?
GANDALF: Good lad. OK, here we go.
MERRY: Any idea what these strange symbols on the West Gate are, Gandalf?
GANDALF: I think they’re probably just strange symbols of some kind.
F/X: THEY SET OFF AGAIN. THE SOUND PICTURE STAYS WITH THEM SO THAT SAM’S LINE AND FRODO’S LINE SOUND SLIGHTLY FURTHER AWAY THIS TIME
SAM: Well I hope you all have a really miserable time.
FRODO: Don’t worry, they will.
F/X: DROP THE WIND SOUND AS THEY ENTER TUNNEL. SLIGHTLY EERIE BUT TINKLY MUSIC IN BACKGROUND…HEAVY SUBWAY ECHO
PIPPIN: This is really spooky.
MERRY: Look at all these galleries of bones, broken swords and axe-heads, cloven shields and helms just lying about…does anyone know what happened to this place in the end? Why did Balin’s folk die out?
GANDALF: Something to do I suppose.
SAM: Shine the torch over here.
GANDALF: Where, here?
SAM: Well, we aren’t the first beings to go down this corridor in twenty five years then.
GANDALF: What do you mean?
SAM: Look, fresh pony droppings.
GANDALF: Oh, your bloody pony.

[ October 18, 2002: Message edited by: Lostgaeriel ]

[ October 18, 2002: Message edited by: Lostgaeriel ]

[Nar]

[img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img] That was brilliant, Lostgaeriel! The poor Balrog! 'I wonder if it will be friends with me?' *sniff!* O Balrog, Balrog, I knew your wings were ornamental! And Frodo the depressed Hobbot! And the pony, currently the most intelligent life form in the universe!

[Estelyn Telcontar]

Yes indeed, Lostgaeriel! This thread is one of my all-time favorites, and to see it revived with such a fantastic contribution makes my day! Pure enjoyment - thank you!

[TolkienGurl]

These are so awesome!

[Lindril Arvilya]

After thinking "why hasn't anyone done..." I decided to roll up my sleeves and do it myself.
"Frodo Baggins and the Prisoner of Angmar" by J.K. Rowling (with help from Lindril Arvilya)

Frodo opened his eyes. There were lanterns above him, and the floor was shaking. Sam and Merry were kneeling next to him, and above them he could see Pippin and Gandalf watching. Frodo felt very sick; when he put his hand up to push his glasses back on, he felt cold sweat on his face.
Sam and Merry heaved him back onto his seat.
'Are you OK?' Sam asked nervously.
'Yeah,' said Frodo, looking quickly towards the door. The hooded creature had vanished. 'What happened? Where's that - that thing? Who screamed?'
'No one screamed,' said Sam, more nervously still.
Frodo looked around the bright compartment. Fatty and Pippin looked back at him, both very pale.
'But I heard screaming-'
A loud snap made them all jump. Gandalf was breaking an enormous slab of lembas into pieces.
'Here,' he said to Frodo, handing him a particularily large piece. 'Eat it. It'll help.'
Frodo took the lembas but didn't eat it.
'What was that thing?' he asked Gandalf.
'A Nazgûl,' said Gandalf, who was now giving lembas to everyone else. 'One of the Nazgûl of Angmar.'
Everyone stared at him. Gandalf crumpled up the empty lembas wrapper and put it in his pocket.
****************************
Ok, I admit it, I do like Harry Potter. Not as much as LotR, though. Otherwise I'd be doing "Lord of the Muggles" or something.

[Diamond18]

Warning, this is very long. (Still read it though, please?)

"The Lord of the Rings" by Mary Shelley (author of "Frankenstein").

I am by birth a Bucklander, and my family is one of the most distinguished of that Farthing. But upon the death of my excellent and noble parents (of whose virtues are more numerous than the stars in the sky) I came to live with my dear and eccentric cousin Bilbo. This venerable old Hobbit seemed to draw inexhaustible stores of affection from a very mine of love to bestow them upon me. I was his friend and his "nephew", and something better—his heir, an innocent and helpless creature adopted by him, whom to bring up good, and whose future lot it was in his hands to direct to happiness or misery, according as he fulfilled his duty towards the being which he had adopted.

Thus I passed many long and happy years at Bag-end, knowing nothing but security, love, and feelings of unbridled joy and hilarity. I feel exquisite pleasure in dwelling on the recollections of those tween years, before misfortune had tainted my mind and changed its bright visions of extensive usefulness into gloomy and narrow reflections upon self. Besides, in drawing the picture of my early days, I also record those events which led, by insensible steps, to my after tale of misery, for when I would account to myself for the finding of that Ring, which afterwards ruled my destiny I find it arise, like a mountain river, from ignoble and almost forgotten sources; but, swelling as it proceeded, it became the torrent which, in its course, has swept away all my hopes and joys.

When I had attainted the age of 33, my dear Bilbo bequeathed to me all his possessions, and took his leave of our fair and verdant land. Among these items was a tiny bauble, a Ring. A small, petty, insignificant thing. Cursed be the day I laid eyes on it! Oh unhappy source of all my troubles!

Unhappy, miserable creature am I! Oh, misery! Loathing! Torture! I cannot describe to you the uttermost depths to which my soul has been plunged. Life holds no joy for me, I am a broken and ruined Hobbit. Misery and agony are my constant companions, despondency and grief my only friends! My life is a melancholy tale of wretchedness and woe. No felicity or ease can I take from my miserable, miserable existence! I curse the sky, I curse the moon, I curse the rug in my bedroom!

My dear Samwise...my poor dear Samwise. Samwise had always been my favorite companion in the rambles of this nature that I had taken among the scenes of my native country. In Samwise I saw the image of my former self; he was simple yet anxious to gain experience and instruction. The difference in cultures and creatures which he observed were to him an inexhaustible source of instruction and amusement. Ah, who could forget his astonishment, terror and lasting delight upon seeing the Oliphaunt?

And yet he is dead! Throttled! Strangled! Choked! Suffocated! Asphyxiated! By that foul, wretched Creature...the Creature Gollum! That loathsome monster! Wretch! Devil! Abhorred fiend! Foul Dwimmerlaik! Oh, no mortal could support the horror of that countenance. A mummy again endued with animation could not be so hideous as that wretch! Mingled with this horror, I feel the bitterness of disappointment; dreams that had been my food and pleasant rest for so long a space are now become a hell to me; and the change so rapid, the overthrow so complete! Wretched, despicable, loathsome, hideous wretch!

Misery and anguish, torment and torture! Why did I not die? More miserable than Hobbit ever was before, why did I not sink into forgetfulness and rest? Death snatches away many blooming children, the only hopes of their doting parents, how many brides and youthful lovers have been one day in the bloom of health and hope, and the next a prey for worms and the decay of the tomb! Of what materials was I made that I could thus resist so many shocks, like the turning of the wheel, continually renewed the torture! Curse this mithril coat...

As I stood at the Cracks of Doom, I suddenly beheld the Creature advancing towards me with superhobbit speed. He approached, his countenance bespoke bitter anguish, combined with disdain and malignity, while its unearthly ugliness rendered it almost too horrible for Hobbit eyes. But I scarcely observed this; rage and hatred had at first deprived me of utterance, and I recovered only to overwhelm him with words expressive of furious detestation and contempt.

"Devil," I exclaimed, "do you dare approach me? And do not you fear the fierce vengeance of my sword wreaked upon your miserable head? Begone, vile insect! Or rather, stay that I may trample you to the dust! And, oh! That I could, with the extinction of your miserable existence, restore to myself that happy past which is now but a memory!"

He replied, "It’s always about you, isn’t it, Frodo?"

The Un-Happy and Miserable End