Miscellenea: The Lord of the . . . Whatever

I'd like to use this post to comment on the part-excellent-part-terrible satire of The Lord of the Rings on the Tolkien Sarcasm Page. Different authors took different chapters to parody, so the results are obviously mixed. Those chapters done by O. Sharp (the owner of the site) are by far the best, in my opinion, although Ovejind Lang also does a fine job. "The Voice of Aruman" towers above the other chapters; however, because it requires a rather large amount of prior knowledge of the satire, I'll provide quotes from one of Sharp's other fine chapters: "A Stab in the Back," based upon "A Knife in the Dark" from The Fellowship of the Ring.

In our first vinette, Sharp mocks the scene where Fredegar Bolger (left behind in the Shire to pretend that Frodo is still there) feels a sense of overwhelming dread at the approach of a Black Rider:

In a flash Fredegar realized the source of his terror. Wood table, wood sill, wood-planked walls, floor and ceiling. He was surrounded by wood! Like being surrounded by trees, only more cunning! So they domesticated themselves, the evil bastards! And now we rely on them! Only a matter of time till they kill us all. It all made sense, that perfect kind of sense that only comes with excessive drinking. A dawn of understanding came to Fredegar. Visions of a brick house, with a stucco ceiling and wrought-iron patio furniture, came to him as visions of peace. No longer would anyone have to fear slivers! In a flash his purpose was clear. His mind resolved, Fredegar Bolger stood and went to the closet. Inside behind the bowling balls and collections of pocket lint was the great Axe. With a grim chuckle he hefted the steel-handled Axe over his shoulder and walked towards the door. There could be no compromise. Deforestation was the only answer.

Bolger smashed open the wooden door and walked into the night.

To understand this next scene one must recall the moment where Sam sings the song of Gil-galad to Strider and the other hobbits. One also must take into account that this Sam is crazed Bolshevik who desires the coming of the Revolution:

"This feels like the country we were in a week or two ago," Morrie [Merry] noted. "Are there Barrow-wights around here?"

"Not here," Strider answered, and Frodo felt oddly disappointed. "Though the Exiles from Atlantis once lived here. Upon Gambletop there was once a watch-tower, set as a defence against the Leech-king of old. Many generations it stood. It is said that Isildur himself once stood upon it waiting for Gil-Gallamine, at the time of the Last Relaxing."

"Who was Gil-Gallamine?" Pipsqueak [Pipin] asked. After a moment a voice began quietly singing:

I dreamed I saw Gil-Gal-la-mine,
Alive as you or me.
'I thought they killed you, Gil,' I said,
Said Gil, 'I did not flee;'
Said Gil, 'I did not flee.'

'You went to Mor-dor, Gil,' I said,
'To fight mon-o-po-ly,
And kill the Rob-ber Bar-on there,
And end the Bour-geoi-sie;
And end the Bour-geoi-sie.'

'I went there, sure, and fought His greed;
'I went there, sure,' said he.
'And wor-kers brave and free;
And wor-kers brave and free.'

The voice fell silent. Suddenly they realized the voice had been Sam's! "Don't stop there!" Pipsqueak said. "Keep going!"

"Uh, I don't think I should," Sam answered quickly. "You might not like the rest."

"I wonder what the song means by robber baron?" Frodo asked. "And workers brave and free. Honestly, the stuff they write into these old songs. They don't make any sense. Give me a nice simple tune about ale and fox-hunting any day, that's for me!"

Pipsqueak and Morrie mumbled agreement, and proceeded with Frodo down the path. Strider gave Sam a short and knowing glance before walking away, then left him and Gates [the pony] to fend for themselves.

Finally we have a mockery of the exploration of the top of Weathertop:

At the hill-top they found the circle of broken stone. In the middle of it was the remains of a campfire, and a handful of fist-sized stones. Strider examined the remins of the fire expertly. "Someone else was camping here," he said, "and recently. I suspect it may have been Gandalf! This fire was started by burning old Racing Forms, as is often his way."

"You mean Gandalf was here in the last few days?" Frodo snapped. "And didn't even stay to wait for us? That cantankerous old bastard still has my money, too!"

"And lo!" Strider continued, lifting up one of the larger stones. A soggy note was beneath it. Pipsqueak reached for it, only to be hit by Strider with the rock. "A note of stationary stolen from the Prancing Pony," Strider continued, picking the note up himself. "It's Gandalf, I'd put money on it. If I had any."

Frodo craned in to look. "What does it say?" he asked.

Strider held the note up and squinted at it intently. "I can't make it out at all," he answered. "His scrawling was tortuous in the best of times. He wrote this in a hurry, and it's all wet and smudgy. But here is the G-rune for Gandalf," he added, pointing at a particularly messy ink-smudge.

"This word near the middle of the letter could be trap," the Ranger continued slowly. "And this word just before it might be Gambletop. And I think this little bit here in the Feenamintian runes could be . . . uhm . . . nazdaq. Yes! Yes, that's it."

With a curious sinking feeling the four of them looked past the rim of the hill and out into the falling night. On the ground far away they could just make out three dark shapes some leagues distant, who seemed to be pointing straight at them and gesticulating wildly.

Well, that should be enough to either whet your appetite or put you off this site forever. A word of warning, some--make that most--of the chapters are not exactly kid friendly.