Alternative authors’ versions of Lord of the Rings
by Alison Brooks
Lord of the Rings, by Ian Fleming
Aragorn placed his hand on the cool, ivory hilt of his 6.38 Anduril sword, half-holding it in as casual manner as possible. His eyes swept the room of the Prancing Pony, eyeing up the potential threats. He took out his pipe, made from the warmed heartwood of a mature oak. In the palm of his left hand, he unwrapped his leather tobacco pouch filled, as he preferred, with Gondorian Silk Cut. Aragorn preferred it to the harsher, stronger Numenorian blend…
Lord of the Rings, by Oscar Wilde
“He bested me in a riddle contest.”
“A riddle contest?”
“It was so. And he cheated.”
“To cheat in a riddle contest is a riddle in itself, and is therefore not cheating, but just another riddle.”
“He cheated and asked me what he had in his pockets.”
“He picked and pocketed a pretty prize, performing perfidious behaviour. How very noble, so like our own Lords and Masters”….
Lord of the Rings, by Rudyard Kipling
I went round to an elven inn, to buy a glass o’ beer
The owner looked at me long-nosed, “We don’t serve your kind here”
The elf maids giggled fit to die, pointing out my height
But I swim in booze whenever there is Evil in the Night.
Yes it’s Gimli this and Gimli that
And go away you brute
But its To the Front, our faithful friend
When the bows begin to shoot…..
Lord of the Rings, by Raymond Chandler
“Frodo Baggins?” said the old man in the doorway, rain dripping from his oversized hat with all the ease of a dwarf burrowing after gold.
“That’s the name on the door. Guess I’m gullible enough to believe what it says about me.”
The old man came in a dripped water on the earth floor. Added a touch of class, so I didn’t complain.
“Frodo, you’ve got a problem.”
“I pay my taxes, and I’m clean with the Rangers. What’s my problem?”
“Bilbo shafted you with that heirloom. Gold ring? Gold ringer, more like.”
“A dud, huh. Can’t say I’m surprised.”
“If it was a dud, you wouldn’t have a problem. Your problem is that this little heirloom has a history, a history with a pearl-handled stiletto in the back. It goes back all the way through the biggest string of mugs you find as wallpaper on Minas Tirith’s finest. Goes all the way back to Night-Time Sauron…..”
Lord of the Rings, by George Lucas
“Did you ever wonder who your father was, Frodo?”
“Uncle Bilbo was my father, Obi Gan Dalf.”
“Your Uncle is a fine man, but he is not your father. Your father was a fine warrior and a great captain, strong in the Force. He was called Sarumann the Wise, and he was a good friend.”
“Was? Is he dead?”
“He is no more. It is your destiny to avenge his death, young Baggins.”
Lord of the Rings, by Meatloaf
It was a hot summer’s day in the Marsh of the Dead
There was fog crawling over the swamp
I could listen to the screams of the Dead Men Calling
I could see their empty eyes and the candles blowing in the wind.
You were licking your finger
With the Ring of Power and I was dying just to ask for a taste
We were dancing together up on the Crack of Doom
And no-ones gonna know what we’ve done.
Lord of the Rings, by Andrew Lloyd Weber
Don’t cry for me, Numenoria
The truth is, you never sank down
Beneath those wild waves
Those deep sea wild waves
You never left from
This Middle Earth
Lord of the Rings, by Gene Roddenbury
“The Halflings, cap’n, they will na take the strain”
“Strider, we’ve got to get out of this snow. Legolas, did you get a reading on that creature?”
“Fascinating, Captain. It appears to be an unknown creature that lurks in the pool waiting for passing strangers. Ecologically implausible, captain.”
“Do you know what it is?”
“I believe I said it was unknown, Dr Gimli. Logically, if I knew what it was, then it wouldn’t be unknown.”
“Cap’n, we’re in some sort of temporal warp, stretching and deforming the plot. The snow should take place a day before our encounter with this beastie.”
“Captain, what are we going to do.”
“Boromir, put on that red armour.”….
Lord of the Rings, by D H Lawrence
Arwen Evenstar stitched, her hands moving over the soft silk of the flag. Her hands moving, her mind roved, as free as she was herself trapped. Aragorn was far, far away, but active. She thought of his maleness, and stitched faster. Her hands brushed the silken flag, and she looked across the sward, eyes passing over the elven gamekeeper without seeing him, yet seeing everything….
The Lord of the Rings, by Ernest Hemingway
Frodo Baggins looked at the ring. The ring was round. It was a good ring. The hole at the heart of the ring was also round. The hole was clean and pure. The hole at the heart of the ring had an emptiness in it that made Frodo Baggins remember the big skies of the Shire when his father had taken him out and taught him to tear the heads off the small, furred things that walked there, even though he hated blood in those days and the stink of the blood was always part of the emptiness for him then and ever after.
Frodo Baggins could put the ring on his finger now. The stink of the blood and the hole and the emptiness could never leave him now. Frodo Baggins looked at the ash-heap slopes of Mordor and remembered the Cuban orc who had kept the ash on his cigar all the way to the end. The orc just drew on the cigar and smoked the cigar calmly and kept the ash in a long gray finger, a hard finger, right to the moment that the Rangers beat hit to death with clubs. He was mucho orco, the Cuban.
Frodo Baggins looked at the ring and the hole and smelled the sulfur smell that came from the vent in the mountain. There were scorched black bushes round the vent. The vent was like the cleft of the old whore at the Prancing Pony on the night that the Black Riders came. Frodo Baggins reached in his pouch and took out the flask of good grappa there and filled his mouth and swallowed the grappa. She was mucha puta, the old whore.
Frodo Baggins could spit again so he spat hard, once. He took the ring and threw it into the vent.
The earth moved.
The Lord of the Rings, by Lewis Carroll
Frodo peered at the wizard, who looked like nothing he’d ever seen before except in a nightmare after his elder sister’s birthday party.
“Come on”, he said, “No time to lose, we’ve got to go and lose Bilbo’s ring!”
“Lose it?”, said Frodo, “Why, I’ve only just found it.”
“Tut tut, no time to argue, we’ve got to go and lose it again.”
“But *can* we just lose something like that?” asked Frodo. “Without so much as a by-your-leave or how-de-do?” he added a little impertinently.
“Of course we can” said the strange wizard, “Why, I’ve frequently lost as many as six things before breakfast, rings included. I dare say you haven’t had much practice at losing things. We can do *much* better than that if we really try, you know,” he said, blowing several smoky rings of various colours into the room.
Frodo blinked, and wondered if his big sister had had *another* party the night before.
The Lord of the Rings, by A.A. Milne
“What we’re going to do,” said Frodo, “is we’re going to go on an expotition.”
“Ooh” said Pippin, “what will we discover?”
“We’re not going to *discover* anything, Pippin, we’re going to *undiscover* uncle Bilbo’s old ring.”
“CAN you undiscover things?” asked Sam. “Discovering doesn’t seem to be a thing you can UN-, if you know what I mean.”
“Sam”, said Frodo, sharpening his pencil, “You haven’t any brain.”
Sam shuffled off trying to look like he hadn’t said anything, and that it was one of Frodo’s many friends and relations. Frodo continued, “Anything that can be discovered, can be *undiscovered*, it stands to reason.”
“My grandfather Brandybuck undiscovered his spectacles once,” said Merry.
“There you go then, that proves it then,” said Frodo. “Of course, we shall have to beware of Trolls and Orcs and Things, that will try to stop us.”
“Ooh”, said Pippin, shivering slightly, but only because it was cold, he told himself. “Do you mean they’ll chase us with swords and Other Deadly Weapons? Actually, I’ve just remembered something important I have to do, that can only be done on… what day is it tomorrow Merry?”
“Pippin,” said Frodo, sucking his new sharp pencil, “You haven’t any pluck!”
“It’s hard to be brave,” said Pippin looking crestfallen, “When you’re a *very* small hobbit.”
The Lord of the Rings, by Matt Groenig
Sam: Yo Hamfast! Frodo and the gang are going on a coo-ol troll bait. Should be plenty of ways I can really screw up the works on that one!
Gaffer: Yes son, but don’t call me Hamfast. And I’m proud of you for taking it in that spirit. Nothing worth doing right is worth doing.
Widow Rumble: Mmmhmhmhm! Mister Gamgee, I don’t think you should be encouraging him in such negative attitudes.
Gaffer: Nonsense Marjoram! Making a dog’s dinner of things is what separates us from the animals, especially dogs. And weaselling out of things is what separates Hobbits and Trolls from the animals as well,… er… except weasels.
Rosy: Actually Mr Gamgee, studies have shown that so-called dumb animals are more likely to see through a task to completion than talking folk.
Gaffer: Doh! Go to your room!
Rosy’s baby sister: (suck suck suck…)
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