The Lord of the ...Insert Specific Object Here

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The Lord of the ...Insert Specific Object Here

Postby pat457 » Tue Feb 10, 2009 3:56 am

In this thread, let's do LotR in an entirely silly, comical, or even nonsensical manner. Anyone can pick a scene or chapter and subvert it in a humourous way.

ROSURORIAN (in medias res)

HALDIR: (enters with a contingent, all of them wearing full samurai armor) Welcome to Rosurorian! My name is Haldir. Here are my brothers Rumil-taro and Orophin-no-suke, who unfortunately speak little of your tongue. We are in the service of the Seii Taishogun 'Garadorieru'-dono and her husband 'Kereborun'-dono. In their behalf, we extend our greeting (bows).
LEGOLAS: Am I correct in hearing that we are now in the territory of Celeborn and Galadriel the Lord and Lady of the Galadhrim?
HALDIR: Yes. I shall now escort you to Karasu Garazon, the heart of Elvendom here on Middle-Earth.
LEGOLAS: Long have we been sundered from our other kindred; even I am totally surprised that the Elves of Lorien have developed such an interesting culture than we from the North. Let us now go.
HALDIR: (points at Gimli) I am afraid that we shall have to blindfold Master Dwarf here.
GIMLI: I strongly protest! (HALDIR and his Elves draw their katanas and naginatas, aiming them at Gimli) ...erm, on second thought...
ARAGORN: Is there a way back there, Haldir?
HALDIR: I am afraid not. You cannot cross the rivers again, and behind you there are now Elven ninjas and ashigaru deployed, wielding katanas, shuriken, suntetsus and the like which you cannot pass. You would be living pinchusions before you saw them.

The FELLOWSHIP plus the ELVES pass by a small, dilapidated oriental-style gate. A horrible stench fills the air.

HALDIR: This is the main gate to Rosurorian. In our high-Elven tongue, we call it the Rásiomónë.
FRODO: (covers his nose) Why does it stink around here?
HALDIR: Over there is where we throw our garbage and other kinds of refuse, because Garadorieru-dono does not approve of such within the city (points to dirty piles of sacks filled with garbage beside the gate; flies can notably be seen swarming).
LEGOLAS: Such ingeniousity!
BOROMIR: Hmm, very interesting. But we in Gondor are not merely content to forbid trashes in the streets; we have appointed garbage collectors which go around the neighborhood at appointed times to collect any refuse that anyone might have!
GIMLI: (still eyes the Elves suspiciously) I sure hope they don't throw our corpses out there.
MERRY: (face starts to go green) Can we go on? This place is starting to make me feel queasy...

The walking goes on and on for hours, through twisted paths. HALDIR, his samurai Elves, and LEGOLAS don't show any signs of tiredness; in fact, if HALDIR didn't look periodically from time to time, they would have outwalked the now-lagging Hobbits, Dwarf and Men.

HALDIR: (talking in his rather gaudy, brand-new cellphone) ...Hai. (puts it back within a pocket in his armor) Well, it seems that we have now new orders. The Dwarf shall now be un-blindfolded.
GIMLI: (imagining that he is surrounded by Elven ninjas) Come on...I know you're surrounding me now...I can't see you, but I know you're there!!! (gets unblindfolded) ...Where did the ninjas go? Is this another devilry!?

They finally see several large trees which surrounds a huge and very shiny Japanese-style castle, which in turn is surrounded by modern-looking high-rise buildings.

HALDIR: Behold! Karasu Garazon, the home of Seii Taishogun Garadorieru-dono, the Lady of Light, and her husband Kereborun-dono.

The FELLOWSHIP see a mix of the old and the new: Elves in leather jackets and poofed-up or spiky hair driving bikes, Elves with neckties rushing to work, over-tanned Elves and other such things. One common thing that they all have is that they are all wearing wooden slippers, like HALDIR and his contingent.

SAM: This is nothing like I've expected, and that's a fact.
HALDIR: ...I am afraid so. But at least Garadorieru-dono keeps the old ways, and that's what's important.
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Postby pat457 » Tue Feb 10, 2009 9:34 pm

Any takers? Everyone?
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Postby rwhen » Wed Feb 11, 2009 3:31 pm

pat457.

I post from work and don't have access to specific long pieces from Tolkien. Otherwise I would totally join you. On the weekend, I will see if I can't put something together here. :D
Love is as big or as little as a hug!!

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I will always treasure and remember your appreciation. Thank you. -2007 WCA's
Overwhelmed by your support and appreciation. Thank you. - 2008 WCA's

The Expected Party!! is now on the road to Gondor to celebrate. Join us.

And getting into trouble with Rally The Eldar.

Yes Ayslhyn, I do still remember.

Vanadarlin', my SSOTH - 143 forever
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Postby pat457 » Wed Feb 11, 2009 5:35 pm

rwhen wrote:pat457.

I post from work and don't have access to specific long pieces from Tolkien. Otherwise I would totally join you. On the weekend, I will see if I can't put something together here. :D


Welcome, welcome. :)
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Postby SilverScribe » Wed Feb 11, 2009 6:53 pm

We were doing something similar to this on the Outer Banks a few years back . . . with hilarious results. I'll have to see if I can dig up some of the ones I did . . . ;)

:D:D:D
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Fur meine Mutter . . . Sie sind für immer in meinem Herzen . . .

A song for our Fallen, but not Forgotten . . . Galadriel's Lament
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Postby pat457 » Thu Feb 12, 2009 2:08 am

Here's the continuation...

The FELLOWSHIP pass by the city, encountering more VERY tanned Elves and punk biker Elves ("Very sorry we can't do anything about those," said Haldir), Elves in schooldesks reading their Math textbooks in one hand while secretly holding their cellphone at the other, and Elves practicing traditional Elven art as practiced in Lothlórien: consisting of drawing figures with large eyes and differently-colored hair ("Our art was actually very famous and highly-prized, long years ago before the Shadow had returned"). They finally arrive and enter the castle. True to Haldir's word, the Elves within the castle adhere more to "the old ways" than those outside, concerning themselves with practicing various ninja arts and calligraphy.

They arrive at an open space in the middle of the castle, consisting of a hut made of straw and wood surrounded by mallorn trees.

HALDIR (points to the hut): There lies the abode of Garadorieru-dono, the Lady of the Wood, Queen of Lothlórien (and Seii Taishogun to boot) and her husband, erm, Kereborun-dono! Behold!

(A tall, golden haired woman comes from the hut, dressed like the ancient queen of Yamato, Himiko)

LEGOLAS: (bows down awestruck, along with the rest of the FELLOWSHIP, especially GIMLI) Lady Galadriel! Lo, she comes clad in an ancient manner of raiment that I have only heard about in tales of days of yore!
GIMLI: Aww, she is vewwy beautifuwww...
SAM: Now this is a very majestic Elf.

(After Galadriel comes a silver-haired male Elf, wearing makeup and wearing huge robes, making exaggerated gestures and poses as he walks)

LEGOLAS: ...Who is that bloke supposed to be?
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Postby SilverScribe » Thu Feb 12, 2009 8:41 am

psssst, Pat, your punk biker elves link goes to the same place as the very tanned elves one . . . ;)

:D:D:D
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~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~
Fur meine Mutter . . . Sie sind für immer in meinem Herzen . . .

A song for our Fallen, but not Forgotten . . . Galadriel's Lament
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Postby pat457 » Thu Feb 12, 2009 11:29 am

SilverScribe wrote:psssst, Pat, your punk biker elves link goes to the same place as the very tanned elves one . . . ;)

:D:D:D


Don't worry, I fixed it. :wink:
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Postby pat457 » Sat Feb 14, 2009 7:37 pm

Anyone else who wishes to continue?
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Postby pat457 » Tue Mar 03, 2009 2:47 am

Just to keep this decrepit thread going...

SILVER-HAIRED ELF: (in a high-pitched, exaggerated voice) Weru-come to Rosurorian! I am Kereborn, za Rord of za Garadrim!
GALADRIEL: (pinches Celeborn) Gweetings. I am Gawadwiew, wady of the za wight.
SAM: Lady of the-what?
GALADRIEL: ""ight".
SAM: What?
CELEBORN: Prease, do sit down, everyone. (The Fellowship sit cross-legged in cushions provided for them)

Would you arr rike to hear a song I just thought of? 'Tis very perfect for this occasion. Here it is!

The Lord CELEBORN looked and intoned to the FELLOWSHIP thus in his own tongue (though oddly, he himself was bad at it) while GALADRIEL said no word but looked long upon the surprised faces of the FELLOWSHIP, feeling sympathy for their pain.

"Amátien, A Elentári!
Ai! latúcendi lantar ohtari súrinen.

Noa ré willë nu Anar,
Enwa camtuva or Isil.
Handë aran aldaron,
Ar salqui taruva.

Aiya, A Ettelëar!
Yéni únótimë lahtanë ve telqui wendaron.
I coar yassen marilmë turúva!
A, Trá-la-la-lallë! Há-ha!
"

CELEBORN continues to prance around the FELLOWSHIP and sing, prompting GALADRIEL to finally produce a gigantic hammer out of nowhere and knock him cold for the moment. HALDIR and company drag him offstage.

GALADRIEL: (shakes her head) Vewy sowwy for my husband, Kewebown. He is awways wike that when zewe are visitors, showing off that vewwy stwange song he takes his time inventing.

(Hands the Fellowship a cup of green-coloured tea each) So, from Rivendeww wewe sent messages zat zewe are nine; how come is it zat zewe are onwy eight of you?
ARAGORN: Alas! Gandalf the Greyish remained in Mora and did not escape, even when I have done my best to rescue him ("Yeah right", snickered everyone behind his back).

At these words all the Elves in the hall, and indeed, every Elf in Caras Galadhon, cried aloud in joy, to the surprise of the Eight.

GALADRIEL: These awe gweat tidings indeed; the most gweat that have been spoken hewe in long yeaws. A feast is in owdew! Follow me.

FRODO: Gandalf was supposedly our 'guide', but he kept misreading the maps and he accidentally led us to Mora; and when our escape seemed near he botched our plan, thus we let him fall.
LEGOLAS: Gandalf was taken by the Bullfrog of Muggroth (the winged status of which is still ambiguous). It was of all elfbanes most deadly, save the One who sits, or stands, or reclines, or stands sitting while reclining, in the Dark Tower. Oh, and perhaps save also the fabled cesspool of Meneldar the Scarily Mad.
GALADRIEL: Now, now, we shall hold a mighty feast. Tell us the the tale latew when we have sat down propewly. We shall sewve, in the feast, widiculously long sandwiches, the likes of which have not been tasted by mowtals since Elendil the Elf-friend bwought one with him to battle, and which tempowawily saved his life, if it is of any meaning to you.
GIMLI: Certainly, m'lady.
MERRY: Very well, ah'm stahving!

ROSURORIAN: THE END
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Postby pat457 » Thu Mar 05, 2009 5:03 am

THE MIRROR OF GALADRIEL

After the feast, the travellers sat comfortably on the ground. The Elves spread for them thick mattresses with fabric exteriors near the fountain; and speaking words of complaint they left them. For a little while the travellers talked as the sounds of the Elvish bikers' motorssícilë and various sounds of fistfights echoed in the night.

'What did you complain about for in the feast, Sam?' said Pippin. 'Anyone would have thought you are getting fickle against your masters. I hope it was nothing worse than a wicked plot to steal one of my numerous estates.'

'I never thought of no such thing, Master Pippin,' said Sam, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 'If you want to know, I felt as if I hadn't got anything on. It was very queer (not in THAT way)! She seemed to be looking inside me. The next thing I knew, I actually didn't have any clothes on. One minute I was wearing them and vamoosh! they're gone.'
'Made for a really good laugh too,' Merry replied. Sam, who was by now wearing a spare old pyjama from his trunk (he did not have the chance to bring a lot of clothing), was not amused.
'To me it seemed exceedingly strange,' said Boromir. 'Since even though we say in Gondor that the Lady is a sorceress who has a penchant for removing the clothing of certain people through 'magical' means, I was very astonied to see it with my own two eyes.' What came to his mind at that moment Boromir would not tell.
'Speak no evil of the Lady Galadriel!' said Aragorn sternly. 'Since she might hear us, and might force Elrond to cancel my engagement with Arwen. There is in her and in this land no evil (at least, no thing that they would define as 'evil'), unless a man bring it hither himself. Then let him beware!' He cast himself down upon his matress and snored very quickly.

They remained some days in Rosurorian, so far as they could tell or remember (the Elves kept no clocks). All the while that they dwelt there the sun shone clear and left all things fresh and clear, but down below the hustle and bustle of daily Elven life continued monotonously. It seemed to them that they did little but eat and drink and rest, much to the consternation of the Elves, who dubbed them hicicomorrie, that is, "lazy shut-ins" in their tongue.

They had not seen the Lord and Lady again because they are also reclusive and rarely went out their palace, and they had little speech with the Elven-folk; for few of these knew or could even use the Westron tongue. The Hobbits were particularly amused at how the majority of Elves who never know the tongue would make very amusing mistakes at it and even wear garments emblazoned with horribly mangled phrases and sentences that would make a linguist with perfectionist tendencies scream in horror. Legolas was away much among the Galadhrim, and after the first night he did not sleep with the other companions, because of his more-superior status as an Elf. Often was Gimli also away, being always invited by the Lady for 'conferences', and the others wondered at this.

One day, as the companions talked on about Gandalf, and all that each had known or seen of him came clear before their minds. As they were healed of hurt and weariness that the old wizard caused (wittingly or unwittingly) the joy of his loss grew more keen. Often they heard Elvish voices singing in drunk voices, and knew that they were making songs of celebration about his fall, for they often caught his name among the incomprehensible babbling that they obviously could not understand.

Philanderer, Philanderer sang the Elves, O Shady B*****d! For so they loved to call him. But if Legolas was with the Company, he would not interpret the songs for them, saying that he did not join the journey to be their interpreter, and that the remarks are too obscene to be even translated.

It was Frodo who first put something of his disgust into halting words. He was seldom moved to make song or rhyme, unless when either inebriated or in mortal peril; even in Rivendell he had listened and had not sung himself, though his memory was stored with many things that others had made before him. But now as he sat beside the fountain in Lórien and heard about him the voices of the Elves, his thought took shape in a song that seemed fair to him; yet when he tried to repeat it to Sam it became obvious that he was making it all up:
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Postby pat457 » Tue Jun 16, 2009 2:39 am

When evening in the Shire was grey
his footsteps on the Hill were heard;
before the dawn he went away
on journey long with bags of gold
(as well as a troop of shirrifs on his trail).

From Wildman's Land to Western Union®,
from Northern Bank™ to Southern Air™,
From secret chamber and hidden vault
and Wizarding Bank he robbed at will.

With Dwarf and Hobbit, Elves and Men,
with moral and immoral folk,
with crook on cage and mafioso in den,
in their own clique-speech he spoke.

A pocket knife, a wrinkled hand,
a back that bent beneath his load;
a loud-mouth kook, with drink in hand,
a g******d b*****d on the road.

A loony drunkard throned he sat,
swift in anger, quick to scorn;
an old man in a battered hat
who'll make you wish you've never been born.

He ran upon the bridge alone
and Common Sense doth defy;
his legs were broken on the stone,
in Castle-Dûh the dotard died.


'Why, you'll be beating Mr. Bilbo next!' said Sam.
'No, I'm afraid not,' said Frodo (hiding an evil grin at this compliment). 'But that is the best I can do yet.'
'Well, Messieur Frodo, if you do have another go, I hope you'll say a word about his energy beams,' said Sam. 'Something like this:

The scariest rockets ever seen:
They shot in beams of blue and green,
Or after thunder golden fireworms,
Came falling like a rain of hailstorms.


Though that doesn't do them justice by a long road.'
'Shut up, Sam. Leave the poetry-making to ME. Or perhaps to Bilbo. But - well, I won't talk of it any more. I can't bear of having to wait before bringing the news to him.'
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Postby pat457 » Thu Jan 21, 2010 4:46 am

Just bumping this foolish senseless parody up. :twisted:
I now challenge people to continue this. :wink:
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