This is off-topic, but I thought people would enjoy this.
And if you want to see how B7 world be written by other authors, buy the
wonderful and very funny zine 'Parodies Lost' by Chris Blenkarn. Judith
Proctor sells it.
These are written by George R.R. Martin.
Nico
One of the cult novels of the 1970s turned out to be Lord of the Rings.
Written by one of the unlikeliest of best-selling authors, it affected a
large number of people, not least of them being those people now in their
teens saddled with names like Galadriel. But how would this book have turned
out had it been written by someone else?
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 PG Wodehouse.
"Sam, I've decided to go and overthrow the Dark Lord by tossing his
jewellery into a volcano."
"Very good, sir. Should I lay out your crazy adventure garb? I presume that
this will pose a delay to tea-time. I would remind your Hobbitship that your
Great Aunt Lobellia Sackville-Baggins is expected for tea."
"Blast! I say, bother! How can a chap overthrow the Dark Lord? I suppose
I'll have to delay my campaign."
"Very good, sir. I believe you will be free in about a decade."
"I'll do it then. Make a note, Sam."
Lord of the Rings, by Bernard Cornwell.
"God save Rohan, will ye look at all those orcies," said Sergeant Eomer,
looking down the slope near Helm's Deep. "Thousands upon thousands of them,
and not a single guard." Aragorn looked at the multitude. He was a
professional soldier, born and bred in a hedgerow, good only for war and
fighting. Unlike the other officers, he didn't come from the Nobility, and
was looked down by most. 'Nosey' Gandalf had given him his commission, and
his sword, for saving his life in battle.
"You're right, Sergeant Eomer. Let's see what we can do with these
Numenorian bows"....
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..."
Yes, Dark Lord
"Ah, Lord Sauron. I have here the draft of your speech to the Nazgul
Committee on Running Water."
"Still waters run deep, Sir Grishnakh?"
"Er, with respect, Dark Lord, if waters are still, then they can't run at
all, deep or shallow."
"Thank you, Bernard. Where would we be without you? What's the gist of my
speech?"
"Essentially, Lord Sauron, that the policy of the Dark Lord Administration
is to avoid having a policy, and that the absence of a policy does not
betoken a lack of policy, but a policy of policy limitation, limiting policy
initiatives to initial policy outlines, without precluding disparate policy
initiatives within the policy outlines."
"Pardon?"
"You'll tell them they can do what they like, Lord Sauron."....
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 it's 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 and 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 Saruman 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 Dylan Thomas
I whistled defiantly as I walked down the streets of Under Mount Doom.
Auntie Grima was baking orc bread, and the smell wafted over the streets
like a miasma of wonderment. She was a dried-up woman, who cursed every time
the pit was mentioned, that death-dealing, life-giving pit. It was precious
to us even though it killed us, our precious it was, but we didn't care
about it as much as we cared about the grilled human ears we had for tea.
"Dopey!" called my friend across the street to me, his voice echoing around
our brown fields. "Dopey, you going to see the game?" There was always a
game on. We didn't watch it, we devoured it, and when it was over, we played
it out again and again, with a ball instead of a captive's head. Grishna was
always Garth Lliwams, and I was always Jaypeeare. He was magic, and when we
finished, we would go home and dream of Nazgul....
Lord of the Rings, by George MacDonald Fraser
I never could stand that Boromir. Stuck up and arrogant. Still, I fixed him
good in his turn. I remember thinking, when the halflings rushed off, that's
yours, Boromir. But I'm getting ahead of the story. It all started back in
Rivendell. It was all Gandalf's fault, of course.
Nearly every disaster of the Third Age was. But this time he outdid himself.
His idea of a good plan was to take this wonder weapon we had chanced upon,
and throw it away. Couldn't even throw it away in the sea, like any sane
chap. No, his plan was to take it all the way into the middle of enemy
territory, where there were millions of orcs and others, and throw it into a
volcano knowing that the d....d thing will explode. There was a long
silence, and Gandalf then said "Volunteers only, of course." Then everyone
looked towards me....
Lord of the Rings, by James Joyce
Old man willow, whistling like a tea pot, shining like a star, oh so
brilliant in the dreaming and smoke and by the river, Goldberry's river,
dancing like a vision, Bombadil, Bombadil, Bombadillo. Rock of ages, young
and ageless, naked before my eyes like Rivendell Rock, sweet and hard and
trusting....
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.
Bagenders
Gaffer Gamgee was relating the doings of the Baggins down at the old Green
Dragon. "I tell you, they ain't proper Bagenders, with them noses in the
air, not like our Samkin, who can turn up a turnip pretty as you please. Now
Lobellia, she's all right. Nah, she is. But Bilbo? Remember that business
with the Old Dwarfs? And what did that Bilbo give me on his eleventy first?
Wine. I asks you. Do I look like a wine drinker? Yeah, I knows I drunk it,
but that's not the point..."
Lord of the Rings, by Christopher Martin-Jenkins
"It's a lovely summer's evening here in the Paths of the Dead.
Aragorn has won the toss, and has decided to bat. Interesting decision, and
Jonathon Agnew has some news on that, so I'll pass you over to Jonathon
while Fred cuts me a slice of that delicious orc cake sent in by Mrs
Galadriel of Lorien Wood. Thank you Mrs Galadriel."
"Well, Chris, I've just been speaking with Eowyn, who said that she had
recommended that Aragorn should send the other side in to the Paths of the
Dead first. It seems that opening in there can be nasty. Bit of an
uncomfortable pitch. The green slopes of Pelenor Fields are much more
suitable to the opening pair of Aragorn and Eomer. Raggers seems keen to
play a Captain's innings today. I gather the bearded wonder has
some statistics for us?"
"According to my records, the last time anyone went in on the Paths of the
Dead, it was a sticky wicket."
"I wonder if we'll see that again today. Well, Raggers has come out, and I
must say, his new sword looks a lot better. Reforged, I hear. Fred?"
"I don't know about forged or reforged, but he'll need to show more
application than he has done. Treated his sword like it were broken."
"That's true, but he has done some remarkable running between the countries.
Oh dear, it looks like they're going in for the day. Yes, they're definitely
going in to the Paths of the Dead...."
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 no' 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....
George R.R. Martin
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