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Here we go again. Maybe we can have Tolkien pastiches in the style of other authors declared an Olympic indoor sport. James Murray has been so kind as to direct me to a further compendium of them, which I take as a clear indication that it’s time to play Spot the Style.
Down at the bottom you’ll find a series of links to the pastiches as they originally appeared. If you’re stumped but aren’t quite ready to give up, hover over the link number and you’ll get a hint. It’s not guaranteed to be helpful. If you’re posting guesses, you should probably stay away from the hints.
1.
In the beginning was the ring. And the ring was with Sauron and the ring was Sauron. The same was in the beginning with Sauron. All things were made dark by the ring, and without it was not anything made dark that was made dark. In it was death, and the death was the darkness of men.
2.
Oh, the quest is bigger
It’s bigger than you
And you are not me
The lengths that I will go to
To destroy this cursed ring!
Oh no, I’ve gone too far,
I put it on.
3.
from III C 2, Whether Balrogs have Wings:I assert that Balrogs do not have wings. For, it is a natural impulse to act to preserve one’s life, and in doing so, to make full use of one’s capabilities. If the Balrog did have wings, it would not allow itself to fall to its death in the mines of Moria, but save itself by the use of its wings. …
Reply to Objection ii. Dragons and Balrogs are alike in that they are both servants of evil and of flame, but they differ in their accidental traits. Because two things are alike in one way, it is not proper to argue that they are alike in other ways.
4.
“Woolheaded man!” sniffed Arwen, folding her arms beneath her breasts, then unfolding them again so she could tug on her braid.Aragorn grimaced. If only Legolas were there. Legolas always knew how to talk to girls.
5.
There are rings that come with diamonds that are used plight one’s troth,
And there’s a ring round planet Saturn – or is it Jupiter? – or possibly both.
But whatever ring you have, there’s one type of ring that admits no tomfoolery
And that’s magic jewellery.
For as soon as you put it on, you’re sure to disappear abruptly
And whatever you were doing before, you’ll soon be doing it corruptly… to accept a ring from the likes of Sauron
You’d have to be a mauron.
6.
The sun came up over the ridge like a fried egg on top of a burnt slice of toast. Then the trumpets sounded. Lots of them, as if Sauron had paid for a lifetime supply and wanted to get his money’s worth if the world ended today. The night shift went back to the holes they had crawled out of the night before, and the day shift started to straggle in, lugging their swords, as if they didn’t know which they hated more, Sauron or themselves.“Well, here we are!” said Sam. He liked to tell you things you already knew. I didn’t mind, most of the time, but here in front of the Black Gate of Mordor, I could think of one or two or a hundred more useful topics of conversation. He talked about his father a lot too, and his garden, and he seemed to think that if he ever got back to them, everything would be like it was. I kept quiet about that. It wasn’t my job to tell him that seeing the wide world changes your shape so that you don’t fit in the places you used to. He was a little guy, but I liked him.<
7.
It was about eleven o’clock in the morning, mid-March, with the sun not shining and the usual look of hard, cold doom in the foothills. I was wearing an orc’s old suit, brown pants, brown shirt, no shoes, some mail and armor. I was tired, I was frightened, and I was desperate, and I didn’t care who knew it.
8.
Once there was a way to get to Mordor
Hope there’ll be a way to get back home
Sleep Master Frodo, do not cry
And I will watch for Uruk-hai
9.
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.
10.
the ring being Brand
-new;and you
know consequently a
little big i was
careful of it and(havingthoroughly shined the elvish
script checked my pocket felt of
its chain made sure it was around my neck O.K.)i went right to it jammed-it-on my finger straight …
11.
The door to Bag End deliquesced, and the derelict lurched into the hall.He was an old man. He was a strong man. Must be Gandalf, Frodo thought. Dresses like Gandalf, grey robed, a rope holding up his torn grey pants. And his eyes. (Orcs’ eyes?).
“You , boy. Are you Frodo Baggins?”
Frodo fingered the dirt between his hairy toes. Wanting to say “no” he began a “yes”.
The codger flapped out a hand (a sack of magic-ruined knuckles) and caught a chair. “We were moving out, boy, the lights of Minas Tirith like a puddle of molten mithril on our left, the black of Mordor on our right. We’d turned off the palantir so we were flying blind. Then, centred on the dark, an Eye! It reached out, brighter than the elven-glass of Galadriel, grabbed our attention so we couldn’t look away.”
Frodo got the words ready in his mouth, excuse me, huh? I gotta go.
Gandalf coughed, spat red. “The Eye was Sauron’s. He took us this close” - his thumb brushed his forefinger (nail bitten to the quick) - “this close” - to Mount Doom. You can damn him, and damn the One Ring for that, boy, whoever you are!”
12.
You may talk o’ ale and lembas
And the nine Fellowship members
When you’re sittin’ in the Prancing Pony’s wing
But if it comes to questin’
The story that goes best in
Is of Nine-fingered Frodo and the Ring!
13.
“There was me, that is Gollum, and my two droogs, Precious and Precioussss….”
14.
In front of a grassy-mound, in the shire, stood a bearded man, in solomn-coloured garments and a gray steeple-crowned hat stood with his eyes intently fastened on the oaken door, for he was the wizard, Gandalf. The wooden edifice, by a strange chance, had been coloured by way of paint or some other form of dye a shade of green, long after the fall of the gigantic pines and oaks that the hue and sprung up around, whether it being of personal or cultural taste, we shall not take upon us to determine. Finding it so directly on the threshold of our narrative, which is now about to issue from that inauspicious portal, we could hardly do otherwise than to view the object held in by the might of the former foliage. It may serve, let us hope, to symbolise the wild and evils in this world, which hath spring forth from the land from where such a colour exists in abundance; as some moral lesson that may be found along the track, or relieve the darkening close of a tale of hobbit and human frailty and sorrow.
15.
Gandalf: What happen?
Samwise: Somebody set us up the orc.
Pippin: We get signal.
Gandalf: What!
Pippin: Main seeing stone turn on.
Gandalf: It’s you!!
Saron: How are you Fellowship!!
16.
Ever see an elfshot? I saw a wight catch one in Mordor. We rigged his grave with a one way looking glass and charged an orc kin to watch. He never got the arrow out of his arm, they don’t if the shot is right. That’s the way they found him, barrow full of buried treasure, dawn of a new day. The look in his eye when he was hit - it was tasty.
17.
When perfect silence was once again restored, one of the two aged elves who sat at the side of the patriarch arose, and demanded aloud, in very intelligible Westron:“Which of my prisoners is La Longue Rapier?”
Boromir, a little at a loss in what manner to proceed, remained silent; but the ranger, who had listened attentively to all that passed, now advanced steadily to the front.
“That I did not answer to the call for La Longue Rapier, was not owing either to shame or fear,” he said, “for neither one nor the other is the gift of an honest man. But I do not admit the right of the Uruks to bestow a name on one whose friends have been mindful of his gifts, in this particular; especially as their title is a lie, ‘anduril’ being a broadsword and no rapier. I am the man, however, that got the name of Aragorn from my kin, the compliment of Estel from the Sindarin, who live on their own river; and whom the Orcs have presumed to style ‘The Long Rapier’, without any warranty from him who is most concerned in the matter.”
18.
Isildur was dead: to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. He was shot quite full of arrows by a party of orcs and left floating in the river. Sauron willed it. And Sauron’s will was great upon Middle Earth, for anything he chose to put his mind to. Isildur was as dead as a barrow-wight.Mind! I don’t mean to say that I know, of my own knowledge, what there is particularly dead about a barrow-wight I might have been inclined, myself, to regard a barrow-wight as the deadest denzien of all the undead hordes. But the wisdom of our ancestors is in the simile; and my unhallowed hands shall not disturb it, or Middle-Earth’s done for. You will therefore permit me to repeat, emphatically, that Isildur was as dead as a barrow-wight.
19.
[FRODO holds his smoking hands in front of him, horrified by the force he has just unwittingly unleashed. He stops at the brink of the Cracks of Doom. At his summons, a machine of unimaginable monstrosity lurches upward from the depths and aims itself at him.]FRODO: Sooner or later, Sam, I will lose all control, and the evil that will follow staggers the imagination…yet I can see it clearly. I can’t let that happen. I have to purge this power from existence before it consumes the cosmos.
SAM (straining hopelessly to unleash his garden-hothouse-lamp eye beams against the machine): Don’t you do it, Mr. Frodo!
FRODO: I love you, Sam!
[The machine disintegrates FRODO with a bolt of raw energy, colored slightly differently from the one that hit the elven ships to aid our comprehension.]
SAM: FRODO!
FRODO: SAM!
SAM: FRODO!!
FRODO: SAM!!
[The remaining CIRTH-MEN, NAZGUL, ELFJAMMERS, GONDORAN and EASTERLING ARMIES, and SAURON arrive in time to see SAM cradling a pile of ash. They kneel around him, overcome with emotion, in a tableau that will later be enshrined forever in a foil-embossed poster by Byrne and Austin.]
SAM: I love you, Frodo…
[Far away,… ULMO, ruminates.]
ULMO: Humanity! I will never tire of watching them! A blighted race, it’s said…and yet, in the face of certain disaster, they exhibit sacrifice that would shame the Valar themselves! There have always been forces like the Ring, trying to tempt and corrupt them into betraying their true destiny…but in the face of love and courage, those attempts are doomed to defeat! All admirable ploys — but they’ve failed!!
[Stay tuned until next month, when the CIRTH-MEN will do a lot of crying and looking at sunsets and being attacked by GRIMA THE WENDIGO on their way home. Excelsior!]
20. The SysAdmin’s view of LOTR.
Links and hints: 1 : 2 : 3 : 4 : 5 : 6 : 7 : 8 : 9 : 10 : 11 : 12 : 13 : 14 : 15 : 16 : 17 : 18 : 19
Yay! First guesses! I post in opportunistic glee... and the authorship is...
2: Michael Stipe of R.E.M.
4: Robert Jordan
9: Neal Stephenson
12: Rudyard Kipling
13: Anthony Burgess
16: William S. Burroughs
17: James Fenimore Cooper
18: Charles Dickens
19: Stan Lee
15 reads like a badly-translated Super Nintendo game, but I'm unsure of the specific reference.
OK, I didn't even read all of them yet, but #4 caused the coffee-meets-keyboard effect with hot chocolate.
My (incomplete) guesses:
1. Biblical.
2. To the tune of "Losing my Religion", R.E.M.
4. A la Robert Jordan
9. A la Stephenson's Snow Crash.
10. In the style of e.e. cummings
13. A la Burgess's Clockwork Orange
15. All your base are belong to us!
17. In the style of James Fenimore Cooper.
18. A la Dickens's A Christmas Carol
#15 is the "All Your Base Are Belong To Us" style, originally from "Zero Wing."
#5 has to be Ogden Nash, if only for the spelling at the end.
#19 I want to say it's the Dark Phoenix bit from X-Men--that is, Jean Grey's death. Comic, not movie.
And Scott, you got the rest of mine. *shakes fist*
Yep, not that the others aren't, but #4 is really spot-on. And I only read the first two *Wheel of Time* novels.
Will, you're totally right. #19 is Claremont, not Lee. Ulmo's rumination had me thinking of Galactus or Dr. Doom, and that's what threw me.
1. Gospel according to St. John
3. Thomas Aquinas?
4. Robert Jordan
5. Ogden Nash
7. Stephen Brust as Vlad Taltos?
10. e.e. cummings
11. Samuel R. Delaney?
12. Kipling
13. Anthony Burgess, A Clockwork Orange
17 James Fenimore Cooper
18 Charles Dickens
19 vintage Chris Claremont X-Men, of course.
8. Lennon/McCartney, "Golden Slumbers."
The Jordan one is high-larious.
Well and opportunistically played, Scott. "Badly translated Super Nintendo game" was a good guess.
Toward the end, #19's tone does veer a little in the direction of Stan Lee, but it's Chris Claremont.
Zeynep, glad to hear it. Involuntary expulsion of bodily fluids is the ultimate test of humor.
Tim, Doyle, the last time we played this, only assertions counted. Suggestions are just suggestions.
Doyle should definitely remove some of those question marks.
Huh. On #19 I would have guessed either Dragonball Z (although I've never watched more than snippets of the show), or, more likely, Akira, even though I've read the Claremont run.
Funny, that.
#6 is sort of Pratchett-esque, I'd say. Could also be Hunter S. Thompson, although I'd expect Teresa to go for the much more recognizable "We were halfway to Rivendell when the drugs took hold..."
#7 sounds Hard-boiled, and Sam Spade-y, but Debra's probably got it.
#14 ...Paarfi? No...that can't be it...
Who correctly identified what first, as of two minutes ago:
1: Doyle
2: Scott Lynch
3:
4: Scott Lynch
5: Will Frank
6
7
8: Andrew Willett
9: Scott Lynch
10: Doyle
11
12: Scott Lynch
13: Scott Lynch
14
15: Tim Pratt
16:
17
18: Scott Lynch
19: Doyle
I'll give y'all one freebie. Nos. 6 and 7 are by the same author.
#4 nearly had me pee my pants. It's so Jordan it's classic.
Poking through the compendium, I'm fond of Hobbitsfield Park, though the title "Rings and Wraiths" is brilliant (even if its execution leaves a little to be desired).
---L.
17 must be James Fenimore Cooper.
14 -- Nathaniel Hawthorne, perhaps?
Without checking for answers or hints first!
1. Genesis - the Bible one, not the band
2. R.E.M.'s "Losing My Religion"
3. lawyerese
4. BWAHAHAHA! Robert Jordan!
5. Dr. Seuss?
6. I'm gonna guess Elmore Leonard.
10. e.e. cummings, natch.
13. Anthony Burgess's A Clockwork Orange
14. Sounds very Jane Austen to me.
15. Ha! Zero Wing.
17. Dumas?
18. Okay, it's Dickens, but I wouldn't have guessed that without the hint.
19. Clearly I don't read enough comics.
The rest, I didn't get even with the hints. Maybe I should check all the answers first, but hell, I'll just post my first swipe and look dumb.
Okay, duh to me on Stephenson being #9. How could I not have recognized that?
Still giggling about the Jordan one.
It took me forever to come up with his name--I kept thinking, "Ooh! That guy who wrote that book that I read!"--but 6 and 7 sound like Raymond Chandler to me.
I was going to guess Dashiell Hammett, but the only Hammett I've read isn't in the first person.
Ack. I made a mess of the list. I'll try it again.
Wednesday, I made some deletions, but otherwise reproduced them as originally posted.
I'm having an attack of conscience. Doyle's question marks are firmer than many people's assertions. In this case, they probably mean "I can't identify the passage."
Foo.
Janet, is that or is that not Nathaniel Hawthorne?
Suzanne, do you assert that that's Raymond Chandler? Alternately, do you assert that it's Dashiell Hammett?
I do assert that it's Raymond Chandler.
Well, that's most of my guesses already guessed, though I'm glad to see I was right about most of the few I had, and not too terribly off on another (I don't know why I thought of Poe instead of Dickens)....
That leaves these guesses:
7 reminds me of John D "Travis McGee" MacDonald, more than anything. But I'm not even sure why.
I'm with Leigh on 17 being Dumas.
Re: "Yep, not that the others aren't, but #4 is really spot-on. And I only read the first two *Wheel of Time* novels."
Let me second that. The line about Arwen unfolding her breasts is classic...
Suzanne, that is in fact Raymond Chandler.
I have led you all astray on #17, because I screwed up the list and failed to credit Debra with James Fenimore Cooper. My apologies to everyone.
I had been trying all afternoon to think of the name Dol Amroth. It seems now like a very simple name to recall and yet on the day in question I thought of every other town in Gondor, as well as such things as ball and chain, Dimrill Dale, toll road, Amon Amarth, Door Store, dill pickle, Mothra, dilly-dally, Denethor son of Lenwe, Ray Liotta, Dor Daedeloth, etc., without even coming close to Dol Amroth. I suppose dill pickle was the closest I ever came, although it was not very close.
Geeminently christmas, I must be losing my marbles. Scott Lynch guessed Cooper. I'm going to stalk off, muttering darkly, and compile a really correct list.
What, no The sky over Cirith Ungol was the color of a palantir tuned to a dead channel . . .?
Isn't 11 Samuel R.Delaney?
(In Dhalgren he goes on and on about the state of people's fingernails.)
Well, heck. I just went and looked at them, before opening the comments and realizing it was supposed to be a guessing game. Darn. And I'm too honest to just cheat.
Also too honest not to admit that I only had the vaguest idea about half of them. The rest...clueless.
Alex, I have days like that. I once suffered a months-long inability to remember which work of fiction begins, "What's it going to be then, eh?"
That was before Google, of course.
Below, the not-quite-so-AFU list. Suggestions awaiting conversion into assertions have been ROT-13'd.
1: The Gospel according to St. John: Doyle
2: Michael Stipe, R.E.M.: Scott Lynch
3: Fg. Gubznf Ndhvanf (Doyle)
4: Robert Jordan: Scott Lynch
5: Ogden Nash: Will Frank
6: Raymond Chandler: Suzanne
7: Raymond Chandler: Suzanne
8: Lennon & McCartney: Andrew Willett
9: Neal Stephenson: Scott Lynch
10: e. e. cummings: Doyle
11: Fnzhry E. Qrynarl (Doyle)
12: Rudyard Kipling: Scott Lynch
13: Anthony Burgess: Scott Lynch
14: Angunavry Unjgubear (Janet)
15: All Your Base Are Belong To Us/Zero Wing: Tim Pratt, Will Frank
16: William S. Burroughs: Scott Lynch
17: James Fenimore Cooper: Scott Lynch
18: Charles Dickens: Scott Lynch
19: Chris Claremont: Doyle (Will Frank wanted to suggest it)
"You a Hobbit?" said the Ranger. "Shucks, been a little short myself." He eyed the Host of the Prancing Pony. "My squire and I will have the Full Shiremen's Breakfast with toasted lembas on top and kingsfoil pesto on the side. Now, I want that waybread to be just barely Elvish. If it's too spoilage-retardant, I'll nail it to an Orc as a warning to others."
My, Chandler seems to be a popular target for Tolkienizing. I can only guess it's his affection for entertaining similes.
I can't place #6, but #7 is the opening paragraph from The Big Sleep.
David, that was last time:
Frodo jacked in.You can find the original here.He felt huge, invincible, unstoppable. Some small part of him knew that was the hits of pipe-weed talking, skewing his sense of self, making his nerves scream like they were being raked over rusted chrome. Knew, and didn’t care.
Over his shoulder he could feel Sam hovering, a hollow nonentity. It was eerie knowing he was back there, like having an itch in a limb long amputated. All around him the middle-matrix arced off into an impossible blue infinity, gridlines benchmarking the empty nonspace.
“There it is,” came Sam’s voice. “That’s the ice. Good luck breakin’ in there, man, that was made by a military AI. Name of ephelduath. You ain’t seen nuthin’ like it. They say it’s two-way ice. Not only will it fry your brainpan tryin’ to get in, nuthin’ inside can work its way out. Leastaways, not without sarumancer’s say-so.”
Oh, hm, I see - you didn't credit Doyle for that one because of the question mark. Therefore I state:
#11 is Samuel R. Delany.
I'm sorry to see that the pastiche author of #9 didn't do something with "Deliverator", like "Ringbearerator." I almost didn't read past page one of Snow Crash because of that word (very glad I did.)
Oh, and while I'm hesitant to actually name anybody, living or dead, as the source of #14, I shall assert that it is R. Lionel Fanthorpe, though he has many names.
Mike, that's Starman Jones.
Oh, good! I'm not the only one who read #4 and went HAH! I know that one!
Of course, it is to be expected, given that the dude Keeps. Churning. Them. Out. and it is frustrating trying to re-read the previous ones each time a new one comes out. (I gave up when I realized that he was on book 5 with no sign of stopping. If he stops, at long last, then I _might_ read them again. Otherwise, expecting me to read book 1 umpty-dum times is ridiculous.)
I name all my computers after authors. A couple of years ago, I built a computer with 1 terabyte (for non-techies, 1 metric buttload in home computer terms) of hard drive space. I named it after the author of #4.
Jane augusta, I think nos. 6 & 7 confused people because Chandler's voice has been adapted and re-used by so many other authors.
Karen, I'm going to split it between the two of you. It is indeed Samuel R. Delaney, grime and all -- and a good catch to spot it on that basis.
R. Lionel Fanthorpe is Starman Jones? Okay, -now- I understand the new Mars project.
Obviously, Mars, being red and all, must be just lousy with scarlet emeralds. (They might even be naturally fauceted, since, like, things are different . . . in spaaaaaaace.)
Doyle asserts: St. Thomas Aquinas.
I assert: Summa Theologica.
Doyle also asserts: "Teresa knows my question marks very well."
Doyle further asserts: Samuel R. Delaney
Noted. What's your opinion of #14?
I assert: #14: Hawthorne, The Scarlet Letter.
And I recall an occasion (near of sin?) of dropping you with a Scarlet Letter pun. That was some years ago; perhaps you don't remember.
"I wonder when in the world you're going to do anything, Frodo?" said my uncle's friend.
"My dear Gandalf," I answered, laying down my egg-spoon, "why in the world should I do anything? My position is a comfortable one. I have an income nearly sufficient for my wants (no one's income is ever quite sufficient, you know), I enjoy an enviable social position: I am nephew to Bilbo Baggins and live in Bag End. Behold, it is enough!"
"You are three-and-thirty," he observed, "and you've done nothing but--"
"Knock about? It is true. Our family doesn't need to do things."
-------------
Just for y'all.
While we're all being literate, allow me to note that Samuel R. Delany has been named five times in this thread so far--and spelled correctly exactly once (by Karen Sideman).
Even Teresa committed the dread "Delaney" misspelling, and she was once the co-publisher of one of his books!
*helpless laughter* I particularly like the *hint* for the first one.
I got 1, 4, 6 & 7, although 6 made me think at first that it might just *be* Terry Pratchett. But he doesn't usually fall into first person, so I went with Chandler after all, and I'm embarrassed that I didn't get 10. 19, however, made me terribly happy. *laugh*
The only two I was sure of were 11 (Samuel R. Delany, Dhalgren, and I would love to read that pastiche novel-length...) and 18 (Charles Dickens, the opening of A Christmas Carol, and I have no wish to read the rest). Well, and I spotted 1, but that hardly counts: St John is too easy.
I really feel I ought to have got 12. But I didn't. All the rest are writers I'm unfamiliar with anyway...
Ahhh... I was trying for pastiche. Obviously needs work.
(Mind you, Teresa readily admits that while she can spell anything else, she can't spell proper names.)
Now, the ring in question was no cheap coffee-and-doughnut gee-gaw, but one of what they called the Rings of Power. Let's make it simple, and say that the Rings were manufactured for various races, doled out not quite even-steven. Three were for the Elves, who made the Rings for themselves, or at least the elven-smiths of Eregion did, who were descended from the Feanor, who'd hand-crafted the Silmarils during the elder days. The silmarils were jewels more precious than any hundred-caret ice, and caused a nasty war, but that's another story. When the rings were handed around, there were seven for the dwarfs, and nine for mortal men, doomed to die. The boss-of-bosses Sauron, who was into high-tech before it was cool, got his fingers into the ring-forging biz, and learned the inside scoop on what made them tick. Then he snuck away to his headquarters in Mordor and spent ten years hacking together a boss-of-rings, in the Chambers of Fire inside the cone of the volcano Orodruin. These rings were as good as magic for the dudes and skirts who wore them. They gave long life, and each had special powers, such as a gift of foresight, or protective power. Or like the one that the Halfling got his mitts on, invisibility.
It's always splitsville for anything that needs to keep itself together. America split into Yankee and Dixie, and the South never got over it when the North blew their troops full of daylight, and torched a few towns. Same deal in Middle-earth. Arnor, the North of the Numenorean realms-in-exile, was founded by Elendil the Tall in 3320, Second Age, but even though it was rich and dripping with prestige, it got sloppy with its politics, and fell apart into three smaller states, which led inevitably to conquest and destruction. But the South, Gondor, spent a thousand years getting fat and rich. Like Los Angeles, Vegas, Houston, New Orleans, and Miami rolled into one, but with architecture that put New York and Chicago to shame. King Elendil ran both North and South, but when it hit the fan, he handed off the keys to Gondor to his number-one son, Isildur, and Isildur's little brother, Anarion. Isildur was born in Numenor, which sank beneath the wine-dark seas like Atlantis, like Titanic, in 3319 Second Age, which is why my story is full of refugee families getting back on their feet any way they could glom onto enough lettuce, mazuma, or spondulix. Money talks; nobody walks.
It was probably Isildur who dealt the death-stroke to Sauron, in battle, after chopping off Sauron's finger that bore the one-ring-to-rule-them-all, the Ruling Ring, and the big boss bit the dirt when this Harlem sunset went down.
But he wasn't really zotzed, it turns out. Sauron was no roundheels, no pug down with a glass jaw, but picked himself up after lying dormy, like a jasper waking up groggy in a flophouse the morning after a Mickey Finn got slipped into his eel-juice.
Where that ring went next is a long story, but let's grab the twisted thread where the halfling Bilbo Baggins was about to fade. Bilbo was a songsmith and scribble-jockey of no mean talent, but was too old to hit the book tour, and ink another best-seller like his "There and Back Again," which he wrote after his epic journey to the East of (2941-2 Third Age). That red book recounted the events leading up to the Battle of the Five Armies, the restoration of the Dwarf-kingship of Erebor; and a big stash of cash, kale, oyster fruit, ice necklaces, and the like in the cave of dragon named Smaug, whose firey breath left the stink of smog in his nostrils like a traffic jam on the Miracle Mile.
[half of chapter 1; the first posting, some time ago, was preface; footnotes excised]
Samuel R. Delany, Dhalgren
I think it's Nova...
"We were somewhere in the Emyn Muil, on the edge of the Dead Marshes when the Ring began to take hold. I remember saying something like 'I feel a bit lightheaded; maybe you should drive...' And suddenly there was a terrible roar all around us and the sky was full of Nazgul borne on the backs of fell beasts, all swooping and screeching and diving around the car, which was going about a hundred miles an hour with the top down to Mordor. And a voice was screaming: 'Elbereth! What are these goddamn animals?'
"Then it was quiet again. Sam had taken his shirt off, and was pouring beer on his chest, to facilitate the tanning process. 'What the hell are you yelling about, Master Frodo?' he muttered, staring up at the sun with he eyes closed and covered with wraparound Haradrim sunglasses."
(Because something someone else said lodged this in my head, and I needed to get it out...)
Mr. Macdonald:
Prisoner of Zenda.
The creator of the Stephenson pastiche was certainly entertaining, but it was the easy way out. The proper way to pastiche Tolkien-Stephenson is simply to insert the appendices to Return of the King, or the entirety of the Silmarillion, as scattered 15 page digressions.
(Including also, of course, chapter-long monolgues and set-pieces meant to explicate the economy of the shire, or comparing Dwarvish, Elvish, and Orcish metallurgy.)
James D. Macdonald: Wodehouse.
Chad Orzel: Hunter S. Thompson.
Let me add to my assertion above that the author of Prisoner of Zenda is Anthony Hope.
This is probably too easy, and not very good either, but:
"Rage.
"Sing, O Muse, of the rage of Sauron, of Morgoth's lieutenant, murderous, Ring-forger, fated to die, sing of the rage that cost the Last Alliance so many good men and elves and sent so many vital, hearty souls to the Halls of Mandos and beyond. And while you're at it, O Muse, sing of the rage of the Valar themselves, so petulant and so passive there behind their safe walls, and of the rage of the Numenoreans, forgotten and diminished though they might be, and of the rage of those few true Eldar left, exiled and fading though they may have become. While you are singing, O Muse, sing also of the rage of those thoughtful, sentient, serious but not-so-close-to-human dwarves out there dreaming under the Lonely Mountain, dying in the halls of Khazad-dum, and being born in the Iron Hills.
"Oh, and sing of me, O Muse, poor bearer-of-burdens-too-great-for-mortals Frodo--poor Ring-Bearer Frodo Baggins, Frodo to his friends, to friends long since turned to dust in memories long since lost to the Ring. Sing of my rage, yes, of my rage, O Muse, small and insignificant though that rage may be when measured against the anger of the immortal Valar, or when compared to the wrath of the Ring-forger, Sauron."
Another:
"I shall clasp my hands together and bow to the corners of the world.
"My surname is Gamgee and my personal name is Samwise, but I am not to be confused with any eminent authors. My family is quite undistinguished, and since I am the fifth of my father's children and employed as a landscaper I am usually referred to as 'Sam, the gardener at Bag End.'"
Chad: if there's a character in there who's a wizard with a slight flaw in his character, that's Barry Hughart's Bridge of Birds.
Okay, I'm trying again. Same author, same piece.
On the night in question, the Fellowship all went to sleep at about the same time. Boromir, as a matter of fact, had been in his sleeping roll all day with a kind of fever. He had not been delirious, but he warned us all that he might become delirious.
In the third watch, when wakefulness was on him, Boromir decided to pretend that delirium was on him, to, as he later explained to us, have some "fun." He went over to Frodo, shook him, and said, "Buck, give me the ring!" "Hmmm?" Frodo said. "Get up, Buck!" said Boromir coldly, but with a certain gleam in his eye. Frodo leaped up and shouted us all up.
We were naturally reluctant to believe that Boromir, who was quiet and self-contained, had threatened Frodo with any such abracadabra. Gimli went back to bed without any comment. "You've had a bad dream," said Aragorn. This vexed Frodo. "I tell you he called me Buck and told me to give him the ring!" We went to Boromir, who we thought was still sleeping; he lay on the ground, breathing easily, as if he were fast asleep. Aragorn gave Frodo a look. "I tell you he did." said Frodo.
Alex: Jerome K. Jerome, Three Men In A Boat.
Alex: James Thurber. "The Night the Bed Fell on My Father."
>“Woolheaded man!” sniffed Arwen, folding her arms beneath
>her breasts, then unfolding them again so she could tug on her
>braid.
On behalf of those of us with breasts, may I just say: Ouch!
check this one out. it hilarious, if you're familiar with the show.
The Balrog comes clumping out... Gandalf stands in the center of the bridge staff raised.
“You shall not pass! You will come no further. Your advancement shall halt right here for I shall stop you. All forward movement will cease immediately. Behind me is the other side, which you will not get to, for I will prevent it. You will try to use fire against me but it will not work for I, ... Gandalf, have come prepared with anti dark fire devices. The fire will fail, go out, and otherwise be completely ineffective. I shall not be burned for the fire will not work.”
check this one out. it's hilarious, if you're familiar with the show.
The Balrog comes clumping out... Gandalf stands in the center of the bridge staff raised.
“You shall not pass! You will come no further. Your advancement shall halt right here for I shall stop you. All forward movement will cease immediately. Behind me is the other side, which you will not get to, for I will prevent it. You will try to use fire against me but it will not work for I, ... Gandalf, have come prepared with anti dark fire devices. The fire will fail, go out, and otherwise be completely ineffective. I shall not be burned for the fire will not work.”
Antukin, if I were drinking coffee at this moment, you'd owe me a keyboard for reckless presentation of hysterical links.
(Of course, for me, The Professor is the obvious choice for Gandalf. Mojo would have to be Saruman, especially during the temptation-from-the-tower scene after the Ents - played by The People Of Townsville, with the Mayor as Treebeard - open up their can of whoopass.)
((Gods, I hope I got all those names right. I'm a relative newcomer to LOTR.))
Chad Orzel:
"Another:
'I shall clasp my hands together...'"
The Wallet of Kai Lung's author?
Oh, fun!
My guesses (before reading the comment thread either):
I got 1 (Genesis), 3 (Sir Thomas Browne), 4 (P.G. Wodehouse), 5 (Ogden Nash), 15 (Zero Wing), and 18 (Dickens) well enough to be confident. At first I thought 19 was Rocky Horror, but then it sounded more like maybe Marvel?
It was a dark and stormy night.
In the Prancing Pony Aragorn son of Arathorn, wrapped in a weatherstained cloak, sat at his usual table and watched the hobbits tossing back beer and singing songs. Outside the inn clouds flew urgently away from the Shire. Every few moments lightning flashed through them, illuminating wraithlike shadows that rode toward their halfling prey.
The inn shook.
Wrapped in his cloak, Aragorn shook.
He wasn't afraid of the weather. --It's not just the weather, he thought. --It's the Ringwraiths on top of everything else. On top of me. On top of the hobbits doing eveything to draw attention to themselves.
Once upon a time, a rather long time ago now, about last Saturday, Bilbo Baggins lived with his nephew in a hobbit-hole, under the name Bag End.
("What does 'under the name of' mean?" asked Merry.
"It means that the hillside was called Bag End, and he lived under it," said Gandalf.)
"Pippin wasn't quite sure," said Merry.
"Now I am," squeaked a voice.
"Then I shall go on," said Galdalf.
Last one for now:
The Red Book of Westmarch is a truly remarkable book. The introduction starts like this: "Hobbits," it says, are smallish folk with mind-bogglingly large, hairy, leathery feet. I mean, you may think you have trouble finding decent boots, but that's just peanuts to hobbits. Their feet are so big and tough that shoes themselves seem small and flimsy. Listen...."
After a while the style settles down a bit and the book starts to tell you something you might actually need to know, such as the fact that most of the Rings of Power were corrupted or destroyed, so if you should happen to find one, it is vitally important that you don't put it on.
Interesting how many people get Genesis & John's Gospel confused.
We're told how religion suffuses much US culture (assuming many here are US citizens). I wonder if there's a different demographic spread here, or if there's not such an emphasis on bible memorizing as I'd thought?
Since Wodehouse has been mentioned, Tom Holt came up with rather a fine one:
http://groups.google.com/groups?selm=2004060323162776639%40zetnet.co.uk
Karen -- the second one is Watership Down?
Chad: if there's a character in there who's a wizard with a slight flaw in his character, that's Barry Hughart's Bridge of Birds.
It is, indeed.
Once upon a time, a rather long time ago now, about last Saturday, Bilbo Baggins lived with his nephew in a hobbit-hole, under the name Bag End.
I'm not sure exactly what the title would be, but this is A. A. Milne, one of the Winnie the Pooh books.
Another:
"Several centuries (or so) ago, in a country whose name doesn't matter, there lived a hobbit named Baggins, and not the one you are thinking of, either."
I got completely spoiled on the original list by TNH's hints, alas: when I put my cursor over the links, the URLs came up in the status bar at the bottom of my browser window, and said URLs give everything away.
As to this thread:
Kate Nepveu is doing John Barth's Grendel. I am slightly surprised that I know this, since I have not read it.
Karen Funk Blocher's third is of course The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.
Chad's is the opening line of John Bellairs' The Face in the Frost.
(To cross-pollinate this thread with the "Michael Berube" one, I'll say that I recently read Face and after all I'd read praising it, was very disappointed. The anachronisms didn't work for me -- Peter S. Beagle did it much better -- and the ending was lame.)
Rana: My first response to four was the same as yours. (Pretty much down to the wording of my comment, but then I scrolled up.)
Rana: My first response to four was the same as yours. (Pretty much down to the wording of my comment, but then I scrolled up.)
"I wonder when in the world you're going to do anything, Frodo?" said my uncle's friend....
Was indeed Anthony Hope, The Prisoner of Zenda
----
And I'd spelled Delany as "Delany," then checked with how Teresa had spelled it, and corrected my post.
David Goldfarb: I am not doing _Grendel_. (I feel better now that it isn't too easy after all.)
Karen's second is A. A. Milne.
Jim, you know I'm fallible on proper names.
And now off to work.
This is probably going to get me in trouble, but I couldn't resist:
"My story has no drama; a land defended, vows unbroken, faith upheld. That is not the stuff of legend. I am nothing but an old hobbit, even if I am still Mayor of my beloved Shire. . . .
"Sixty years and one it is, since Mr. Frodo departed and yet my memories of him are still very clear. The years I traveled as his companion shine brightest of all the memories of my long life."
(And too easy besides, but I figured if I cut the first two lines it would be too hard.)
Alex - Darn! That's what I get for going to bed so early. I knew it immediately.
Debra Doyle (and Jill): It certainly is Thurber, although the piece it's (ahem) "adapted" from is in "More Alarms at Night," which seems a very Tolkienesque chapter title to me.
And now, with great trepidation, considering that there's someone here who edited the original:
I lived long enough to see the Elves depart for the Undying Lands; to see the rise of the Age of Men; to learn ten languages; to realize my mission given me by the Valar to aid Middle Earth in its wars with Sauron; to see the end of the Council of the Wise and of wisdom.I never thought I’d live to see the day when Keep A-Stridin' Aragorn would decide to become King Elessar until the end of his days.
Aragorn was in his second or third blush of youth when I first met him, sometime late-A3. He was a rangy cowpoke, apparent 40 or so, all rawhide squint-lines and sunburned neck, boots worn thin and infinitely comfortable. He was taking a break from Saving the World, chilling in Bree and bouncing for some poor innkeeper. We hooked up at the Prancing Pony---the PraPo for those who knew---on a busy Friday night, spring-ish. I was fighting an Ent-slow battle for a stool at the scratched bar, inching my way closer every time the press of bodies shifted, and he had one of the few seats, surrounded by a litter of pipeweed junk and empties, clearly encamped.
Some duration into my foray, he cocked his head at me and raised a sun-bleached eyebrow. "You get any closer, son, and they're going to have to write a lay about us."
Interesting how many people get Genesis & John's Gospel confused.We're told how religion suffuses much US culture (assuming many here are US citizens). I wonder if there's a different demographic spread here, or if there's not such an emphasis on bible memorizing as I'd thought?
While I think the demographics here are probably indeed not reflective of the US as a whole, I'm not sure there's that much emphasis on Bible memorization as such. It's been a while since the days of Tom Sawyer.
In my own case, I thought it was Genesis (although it didn't quite match my memory) because I've never read any Gospels, not holding with those new-fangled books.
On another note, whatever Kate's first one is, is referring to the Iliad, but I don't recognize the work itself.
Ha! Alex, I just started reading that one -- downloaded on my PDA. Corey Doctorow, Down and Out in the Magic Kingdom.
And yes, I do assert it's Nathaniel Hawthorne for #14, mostly because I'm good at hints. And I checked after I posted to see if I was right.
I don't know how anyone could miss #18, but then I read A Christmas Carol annually and watch both the George C. Scott and Muppet versions each Christmas...
Alex - if I were feeling creative, I might put something together that had the Get Ready Man blast through the heart of Mordor...
But I'm not.
And considering that I started the distributed audio project for "Down and Out in the Magic Kingdom," (whic seems to have stalled, oh well...) that was an easy one.
Karen Funk Blocher's first one is Madeline L'Engle, A Wrinkle in Time. It is the only book I've read that could successfully perpetrate "It was a dark and stormy night."
Andy Perrin:
One of the reasons that One Hundred Trillion Planets, the novel manuscript I coauthored with Dr. Christine Carmichael, never sold was the opening line I wrote, for a chapter set on the Caltech campus:
"It was a stark and dormy night."
"Narrator: Meanwhile, the wizard Saruman, not more than a eagle's flight away in Isengard, was about to unleash his ultimate weapon upon the fellowship. Oh, that's a northern eagle's flight, obviously. I mean, they were more than two southern eagles' flights away-- four, really, if they had a wizard on a line between them. I mean, if the eagles were walking and dragging--
"Crowd of Hobbits: Get on with it!"
(I had a vision of Gandalf played by Tim the Enchanter, and went googling. This script is a bit uneven, but "On second thoughts, let's not go to Bombadil's. It is a silly place" and The Nazgul Who Say Ni have put a lasting smile on my face.
http://www.xenocorp.net/H_bardCorner/MPFotR.htm)
I believe there's a Ren & Stimpy version of A Christmas Carol too, though I may have this confused - they only ran once on free-to-air here.
Of men and wizards, elves and dwarfs, I sing,
Of Dunedain, and Barad-Dur's defeat;
And from those ancient days my story bring,
When orcs from Mordor passed on hostile feet,
And ravaged Tirith, with a Ringwraith king,
Flushed with his ancient rage and Morgul's heat,
Vowed venegeance for lost Numenor's demand
On Denethor, Steward of Gondor's land.
In the same strain of Frodo will I tell
Things unattempted yet in prose or rhyme,
To whom strange journeys and Ringed evil fell,
A hobbit deemed so small in former time;
If Luthien, that is, who's brought me well
Nigh to despair, release my wit to mime
The Red Book Chronicles with meager skill--
Then I my daring promise can fulfil.
---L.
I assert that Kate Nepveu is pastiching _The King's
Peace_ by Jo Walton. Or not.
As for the confusion between Genesis and the Gospel of John -- and especially for those like Dan Blum who may be familiar with the one but not the other -- the beginning of John deliberately plays on the beginning of Genesis. Almost a pastiche in itself, at least the first sentence. But then it starts getting into serious theological musings, whereas Genesis sticks with the action.
Which leads to #3. At first I thought Aquinas. But then I thought, maybe the Talmud?
I was on much surer ground with REM, Nash, e.e. cummings, and the Beatles. Even Cooper, and my brother's Classics Illustrated was the most of The Last of the Mohicans I could swallow, and I was about 8 then. I like Mark Twain's take on Cooper the best.
My second one is indeed _The King's Peace_. (Still not sure if I should have taken out the first two lines, or changed it more, or not done it at all . . . Jo, forgive me?)
BSD: The creator of the Stephenson pastiche was certainly entertaining, but it was the easy way out. The proper way to pastiche Tolkien-Stephenson is simply to insert the appendices to Return of the King, or the entirety of the Silmarillion, as scattered 15 page digressions.
In which case I assert that a Modesitt pastiche could be accomplished simply by making each scene its own chapter, with Roman-numeral headings, which would end around
CMXCIX
"Well, I'm back," he said."
Simple mechanics don't make nearly as good a pastiche as any of the preceding posts -- and part of the trick is to get the essence into a small space, which neither of ours would do.
And with your indulgence, another I twiddled last year:
Report to the White Council
I met a traveller from an antique land,
Who said-- "A vast and lidless eye of flame
Watches the waste.... Beside it, close at hand,
Half-built, a shattered tower stands, whose name,
And ancient use, and fear of old command,
Tell that its builder, who raged with passions well,
Still yet survives, stamped on some lifeless things,
The hands that wore them, and the hearts that fell;
And then the eye spoke words into the air:
'My name is Sauron the Great, Lord of Rings,
Look on my form, ye Mighty, and despair!'
Nothing beside is said. Round the decay
Of Barad-Dur, once wrecked, boundless and bare
The ash of Mordor's Doom stretch far away."
---L.
Surely there are no points for Ozymandius?
I have other things I should be doing, but temptation must sometimes be yielded to. Herewith two offerings -- one classical and not too difficult, one much more obscure that I couldn't resist in this gallery.
* * * *
"Frodo Baggins, Gandalf the Grey," said the Gaffer, introducing us.
"How are you?" he said cordially, gripping my hand with a strength for which I should hardly have given him credit. "You have been in Bree, I perceive."
"How on earth did you know that?" I asked in astonishment.
"Never mind," said he, chuckling to himself. "The question now is about fire-letters. No doubt you see the significance of this discovery of mine?"
"It is interesting, alchemically, no doubt," I answered, "but practically—"
"Why, man, it is the most practical mystico-sorcerous discovery for years. Can't you see that it gives us an infallible test for lost Rings? Come over here now!"
* * * *
Night had come to Hobbiton in the Shire. Night, but not darkness or quiet. Snatches of cheerful talk and lively music spilled out through open doorways, and the low gurgling of briskly flowing river-water never stopped. Gandalf the Grey – tall and thin, with pale silver hair tucked back from a face too sharply planed for handsomeness – strode through the crowded square with a wizard’s fine disregard for the village-bound locals. The locals, in turn, took note of his purposeful air, and of his heavy walking staff gripped in a leather-tanned hand, and let him pass.
* * * *
Hi! I'm king of a large Middle-Earth kingdom, and this ruler's got twelve inches, but I always thought the letters here were made up until I walked in on Liv Tyler bathing with her fairy handmaidens-
Love the Ozymandias one.
John's first one is Sherlock Holmes ("A Study in Scarlet," perhaps?).
The other one seems very familiar, but I can't place it. LeGuin?
John: Bwah! I was just wondering if I could manage a Mageworlds one. (Gave _The Price of the Stars_--which that is--to my father-in-law and over dinner last night he said he really liked it.)
The first, of course, is _A Study in Scarlet_.
John's first one is Sherlock Holmes ("A Study in Scarlet," perhaps?).
Correct, of course. I didn't think that would last long.
The other one seems very familiar,
This is as it should be.
but I can't place it. LeGuin?
Not even close. But I sense hysterical giggling in the background....
Thank you, bruce purcell, for not continuing your Penthouse pastiche.
And that will teach me to underestimate this gallery -- Kate is, of course, also correct. (I had thought the second one might fake folks out for considerably longer than ten minutes....)
Arggh. An imitation of imitation LeGuin. A touch, I do confess it. (slumps lifeless to the floor)
Ah! I see that others have beaten me to Bellairs and A Conan Doyle. Nicely done, both. As for Thurber, I was thinking about working from a fable or "File and Forget," but the one from My Life and Hard Times is probably more apt. Hark!
Another entry in this derby kept me up until 3 AM scribbling it, but I won't post the thing until I get home from work.
Like I said, I'd been pondering it myself, that's all.
(Similarly, I started and abandoned "Yeah, I'm a Ranger of the North. We didn't go away in the nineteenth century, no matter what the Witch-King of Angmar tried to pull." as beyond my skills.)
Kate, is your first one from Dan Simmons' _Ilium_? The opening sounds like Fagles' translation of the Iliad, but the rest, not so much.
Mark: it's the opening of _Ilium_ indeed (original).
(Also, I meant "twentieth century" (1900s, twentieth century, can never keep these straight, even when I bother to look up dates).)
He dons the ring with nerveless hands
Close to the Eye in evil lands,
Lost to himself at last, he stands.
Gollum Frodo's exit stalls.
From fatal bite, o'er lava walls
With ring and finger, Gollum falls.
One Ring! One Ring! Glowing bright,
Forged in fires of the night,
What immortal, lidless Eye
Now seeks thy grasping symmetry?
"Little hobbit, who made thee?" Naw.
Lamb, from Songs of Experience. Yours, I mean, not the one I thought better of doing.
The second of Karen's is Blake's "Tyger, Tyger!"; I think the first may be Longfellow's "Village Blacksmith", but my memory of the original is a trifle vague.
Hobbits, go where I send thee.
Where shall I send thee?
I will send thee south and east
Where darkness falls and you the least,
Baggins, little bitty halfling
Will slip beneath his notice,
Hope, oh, hope of Hobbiton!
Karen's first one is Tennyson's "The Eagle: A fragment".
Rats, I got mixed up. Of course it's Blake. Rats.
Comments on A Houseful of Lords, pt. 2: