If LotR had been written by someone else!?

[Bekah]

Some extraordinary examples of good writing here.

I need to get off now, but I wanted to be subscripted to this thread.

Cheers,

~ Elentari II

[Mithalwen]

For the benefit of other new arrivals who may be unaware of these delights.. I am awestruck and haven't laughed so much in a long while ... suddenly the unequal struggle with German has become worthwhile...

[Lalwendë]

These are good! I had to have a go myself:

If LOTR had been written in office jargon.

Minutes of the Rivendell Steering Group, 25 October 3018, Conference Room Q.

Attendees:
Elrond - Chairperson (Rivendell)
Gandalf The Grey (Istari Representative)
Bilbo Baggins (The Shire - on secondment to Rivendell)
Frodo Baggins (The Shire)
Glorfindel (Rivendell)
Gloin (Dwarves)
Gimli (Dwarves)
Strider (Independent Representative)
Erestor (Rivendell)
Galdor (Grey Havens)
Legolas (Mirkwood)
Boromir (MinasTirith)

Apologies:
Elladan
Elrohir


1. Minutes from previous meeting
The group discussed events from the South and the wide lands east of the mountains. It was noted that the Ringbearer appeared somewhat distant during this area of discussion and began to pay attention when discussion turned to the matter of the Dwarves events since the last meeting.

2. Agenda Item 1 - Paper on The Forging and Loss of the One Ring (Elrond)
Elrond described to the group the history of the One Ring, further details of which can be found in the paper at Annex A. Boromir raised the issue of the current situation in Gondor and apologised for his late arrival - the 9.15 from Minas Tirith had been delayed for some 110 days. Gandalf asked the Ringbearer to bring forth the ring which prompted discussion between Boromir and Strider.

3. Agenda Item 2 - Paper on The Finding of the One Ring (B. Baggins)
The detail to this paper can be found at Annex B.

4. Agenda Item 3 - Strategy Paper (G. The Grey)
This paper can be found at Annex C. It became apparent to the group from a brainstorming session that S. The White, a former member of the group, has become opposed to the strategic vision of the Rivendell Steering Group. Mr G The Grey presented several options for next action to the group, including retaining the One Ring in the Rivendell vaults and casting it into the oceans. The group discussed all the options available and after much discussion, Elrond utilised power of veto and came to the decision that the ring must be cast into Mount Doom.

Action Point: F. Baggins tasked with destroying the ring.
Deadline: ASAP.

5. Any Other Business
Mr S Gamgee entered the meeting room unexpectedly and offered to assist Mr Baggins in his task.

6. Closing Remarks
Elrond took up his packet of marker pens and made a series of splodges on his Project Plan to identify the milestones which would mark the progress of the quest. The rest of the group followed Mr B Baggins to the canteen for luncheon.

Minutes taken by Arwen Undomiel, Secretary.

[Lostgaeriel]

Oh Lalwendë!

I haven't laughed that hard in an Age!

When considered in a "real" and contemporary context, I'm absolutely amazed that the Council stuck the meeting out to reach any conclusion at all. The way steering committees get run, we should have expected inconclusive meetings going on for months or years - or at least until Sauron arrived to claim the Ring. My respect for Elrond has risen to great heights.

[Mithalwen]

Well, Elrond employed that wise tactic of not feeding them until they had decided (no sandwiches and fruit sent in). A catholic friend tells me they do similar things to the cardinals if they take too long choosing a new pope..

[Rimbaud]

~~~

In the beginning Eru, the Authority, who in the Elvish tongue is named BigNastyBoss, made the Ainur of his thought; and they made a great Music before him. In this Music the World was begun; for the Authority made visible the song of the Ainur, and used it to enslave what he considered the weak-minded fools of the world. And many among them became enamoured of its Dusty beauty, and of its history, which was presented to them through a series of propaganda films. Therefore the Authority gave to their vision the Worship, and set it amid the Void, and the Pomp and Ceremony was sent to burn at the heart of he World; and it was called Church.

~~~

I would say to read this in the Spirit it is intended, but I might be accused of punnery. The shame.

[Lalwendë]

Well, Elrond employed that wise tactic of not feeding them until they had decided (no sandwiches and fruit sent in). A catholic friend tells me they do similar things to the cardinals if they take too long choosing a new pope

I always laugh to myself when I read Bilbo's little plea for a lunch break which falls on stony ground. It reminds me of myself so much. I can imagine him sitting there fuming, drawing doodles on his notepad to alleviate the tedium of another lengthy meeting, waiting for the tray of drinks and 'luxury biscuits' to arrive, and wondering when he can pop out for a smoke...poor hobbit.

[Kuruharan]

Caesar’s De Bello Hobbito

The Hobbits are a whole divided into three parts, the Stoors, the Harfoots, and the Fallowhides, though we call them all Shorties. All these have practically the same languages, customs and laws. The Stoors dwell primarily in the South and West, the Harfoots and Fallowhides dwell everywhere else. The Hobbits are divided from each other by their innate suspicion of anyone who dwells more than five miles away. The Fallowhides are the leaders of these peoples, being more adventuresome they are also more apt to vanish without warning into the Blue. This last trait is considered most alarming by the Hobbits as it tends to take one more than five miles away from home. Those Hobbits dwelling in the area known as Buckland are braver than the rest of the Hobbits because of the nearness of the Old Forest, into which they will occasionally sally forth to engage in some deforestation.
….
The foremost Hobbit of the Marish, in rank and wealth, was Gorhendad Oldbuck. In the consulship of Marcus Messala and Marcus Piso (more or less) he was induced by the extreme dreariness of his habitat (and an impulse to chop lumber) to move across the Brandwine River and set up his own little kingdom. He changed his name to Brandybuck to confuse the authorities and granted himself the title “Master of Brandy Hall” without the permission of the Senate and Roman People. This was the foundation of Buckland.

[HerenIstarion]

"There are Rings in Middle-Earth,
Horatio, Man was not meant to wear."

HAMLET


One of the few redeeming facets of tutors, I thought, is that occasionally they can be fooled. It was true when Bilbo taught me to read Elvish, it was true when he tried to teach me to be a poet, and it's true now when I'm learning Ring-handling.

"You haven't been practicing!" Gandalf's harsh admonishment interrupted my musings.

"I have too!" I protested. "It's just a difficult exercise."

As if in response, the Ring I was trying hard not to put on but throw into the hearth began to tremble and wobble in midair.

"You aren't concentrating!" he accused.

"It's the wind," I argued. I wanted to add "from your loud mouth," but didn't dare. Early in our lessons Gandalf had demonstrated his lack of appreciation for cheeky Ring-Bearers.

"The wind," he sneered, mimicking my voice. "Like this, dolt!"

My mental contact with the object of my concentration was interrupted as the Ring darted suddenly toward the fire. It jarred to a halt as if it had become imbedded in something, though it was still a foot from
the grating, then slowly rotated to a horizontal plane. Just as slowly it rotated on its axis, then swapped ends and began to glide around an invisible circle like a leaf caught in an eddy.

I risked a glance at Gandalf. He was draped over his chair, feet dangling, his entire attention apparently devoted to devouring a leg of roast mutton, a mutton I had cooked, I might add. Concentration indeed!

He looked up suddenly and our eyes met. It was too late to look away so I simply looked back at him.

"Hungry?" His grease-flecked salt and pepper beard was suddenly framing a wolfish grin. "Then show me how much you've been practicing."

It took me a heartbeat to realize what he meant; then I looked up desperately. The Ring was tumbling floorward, a bare shoulder-height from landing. Forcing the sudden tension from my body, I reached out with my hand . . . gently . . . don't knock it away....

I caught it a scant two hand-spans from the floor.

I heard Gandalf's low chuckle, but didn't allow it to break my concentration. I hadn't let the Ring touch the floor for three evenings already, and it wasn't going to touch now.

Slowly I raised it to eye level. Wrapping my mind around it, I rotated it on its axis, then turned it. As I led it through the exercise, its movement was not as smooth or sure as when Gandalf set his mind to the task, but it did move unerringly in its assigned course.

Although I had not been practicing with the Ring, I had been practicing. When Gandalf was not about or preoccupied with his own studies, I devoted most of my time to throwing pieces of metal—old mathoms, to be specific, into the hearth. Each type of throwing had its own inherent problems. Not rounded metal was not hard to work with because it was an inert material. The Ring, having once been part of a living Dark Lord, was more responsive . . . too responsive. To throw metal took effort, to maneuver a Ring required subtlety. Of the two, I preferred to work with metal. I could see a more direct application of that skill in my chosen profession. After all, why not put a Ring on and cast sword or something into the Crack?

"Good enough, lad. Now put it back into your pocket"

I smiled to myself. This part I had practiced, not because of its potential applications, but because it was fun.

[HerenIstarion]

Following How would it be thread

--------------------

DAVID BRIN

NATULIFE

I know, things taste better fresh, not packaged. Lembas clots your arteries
and hurts the rain forest. We should eat like our stone age ancestors, who dug
roots, got lots of exercise, and always stayed a little hungry. So they say.

Still, I balked when Sam served me termites.

"Come on, Master Frodo. Try one. They're delicious."

Sam already had the hive uncrated and set up by the time I woke up. Putting
down my cloak and walking staff Faramir gave me, I stared at hundreds of the pasty-colored critters scrabbling in grubbed up hive, tending their fat queen,
making themselves right at home again.

Sam offered me a stick to serve as a probe.

"See? You use this stick to fish after nice plump ones, like apes do in the wild!"

"How do you know apes do that? Oh, all right, don't recite any other verses... oliphaunt was enough...

I gaped at the insect habitat, filling the last free space between our
little fire and the sacks to the right.

"But . . . we agreed, we still have dried apples. . . and lembas too..."

"Oh, Master Frodo, I know you'll just love them. Anyway, don't I need protein and
vitamins for helping you to carry It to that land?"

Putting my hand over his swelling belly normally softened any objections he might
have. Only this time my own stomach was in rebellion.

"I thought you already got all that stuff from the nest back there... and the hollow too"

I pointed to the pieces of shell and bits of fur occupying half of Sam's pans, venting nutritious vapors from racks of tissue-grown cutlets.

"That stuff's not natural," Sam complained with a moue. "Come on, try the real thing. It's just like Gollum said, and he knows his staff, living in the Wild and all!"

"I . . . don't think . . . "

"Watch, I'll show you!"

Sam passed the stick-probe through a hole in the left side of the hive to delve after six-legged prey, his tongue popping out as he concentrated, quivering with excitement from his square nose down to his rounded belly.


"Got one!" he cried, drawing a twitching insect out the hatch and to his lips.

"You're not seriously . . . "

My throat stopped as the termite vanished, head first.

Bliss crossed Sam's face. "M-m-m, crunchy!" He smacked, revealing a still-twitching tail.

I found enough manly dignity to raggedly chastise him.

"Don't . . . talk with your mouth full."

Turning away, I added -- "If you need me, I'll be on the other side of that rook there.

------------

(to think dear Mr. Brin writes articles about Tolkien )

[Nilpaurion Felagund]

Hope this is allowed.

What if The Slmarillion was a Werewolves game?
(Or What if The Silmarillion was written by a Werewolves mod?)

Ainulindalë: The Saga of the Village of Ardaland.

Eru: Hey, everyone! I’ve found a new game, and it’s called ‘Werewolves.’ Wanna play it?

Ainur: Ooh, we want to join!

Ulmo: Maybe we should have jobs in the village so we’ll have more fun. I’ll be the plumber.

Melkor: I’ll be the king* of the village.

Manwë: No, you can’t! Eru made me king!

Varda: I’ll play a lamp-maker.

Aulë: I wanna be the blacksmith!

Melkor: I’ll be king, Manwë, so just cry home to momma!

Yavanna: I wanna be a gardener!

Mandos: I shall be a judge.

Manwë: If you want to play, Melkor, then you’ll have to play by the rules. Since Eru made me king already you can’t be king.

Nessa: I’m a dancer!

Lórien: I’ll be selling sleeping pills.

Melkor: Rules, schmules! I’m the most powerful, so I’ll be king!

Vairë: I shall be a weaver.

Oromë: I’ll be a furrier.

Manwë: Stop it, Melkor, or I’ll tell on you!

Nienna: I’m the village psychiatrist.

Melkor: You can’t be a psychiatrist! You can’t have other jobs! You’re all my slaves!

Ainur: SHUT UP!

Melkor: Why you . . .

Tulkas: I wanna be a wrestler!

Eru: OK, let’s start the game now. Eä!

Illuin and Ormal: Sorry, we’re late! Can we still join?

Valar: Sure!

NIGHT 1

Melkor: ++Illuin and Ormal Because they’re too bright for their own good.

Illuin and Ormal were killed.

DAY 1

Aulë: Melkor did it, I tell you!

Flames from Illuin and Ormal: Due to a random formula, we have decided to lynch ++Almaren

Almaren was lynched.

NIGHT 2

Balrogs (mythomaniac): Hey, Melkor. Can we join you?

Melkor: Yeah. Sure.

DAY 2

Yavanna: What do we do? We need known innocents!

Laurelin and Telperion: We are the Shiriffs!

Aulë: Maybe we need new players.

Dwarves: Can we join?

Eru: Sorry, you’ll have to wait for the next game.

Oromë: Hey, other players want to join the next game!

Tulkas: Then let’s end this game already! Lynch Melkor!

Valar: ++Utumno

Utumno was lynched. VILLAGERS WIN!

Mandos: Eru said I’ll be mod for the new game.

Eldar: Yay! We can join now!

Mandos: So it is doomed.

DAY 1

Melkor (to Noldor): Look, I’m telling you. The Valar are the werewolves. They want this game to end so they can let the newbies join. And those newbies are easy to manipulate.

Noldor: Murmurmurmur.

Fëanor: We need to start another game! No Valar, Elves only!

Mandos: That is not allowed.

Tulkas: Grrr, that Melkor! He tricked us into thinking he’s an innocent villager! Lynch him!

NIGHT 1

Melkor (to Ungoliant): So, you’re the Beorning, huh? We should help each other.

Ungoliant: Deal, but let’s kill the Shiriffs first.

Laurelin, Telperion and Finwë were killed.

DAY 2

Fëanor: I told you something bad would happen! New game, I say! No Valar!

Noldor: YEAH!

Olwë: The Valar can help you, let them join!

Noldor: NO!

Fëanor: Traitors! ++Teleri

The Teleri were lynched. They were innocent.

NIGHT 2

Mandos: Because you have lynched innocent blood, you shall fear the Cobbler role.

Fëanor: We don’t care! We’ll still lynch Morgoth!

Finarfin: That’s it, I quit this game!

DAY 3

Fëanor: Haha! Look at me! I’ll finally lynch Morgoth!

Gothmog: No, you won’t. ++Fëanor

Fëanor: Farewell, fellow villagers! Lynch Morgoth! I won’t be joining another game for a very long time!

Fëanor is lynched.

To be continued?

__________________
* The role of ‘mayor’ has been changed into ‘king’ to avoid turning this into an allegory.

(For an explanation of roles, see here and here.)
__________________

I tried turning the entire Silm into a Werewolves game, but I got stuck at Of Túrin Turambar.

[Anguirel]

I certainly hope so...this is brilliant. I wish I'd thought of it...