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Staff:
Editors: Perian, Xara.
Primary Reporter: Ivy Brandybuck.
Chief Corespondant: Prongs.
Contributor(s): Lady Morrigan Shadow, Jen, Eowyn Evenstar, Sam.
In this issue:
Too Much To Be Coincidence by Ivy.
Samwise Gamgee: A Fourth Time Mayor by Prongs.
Gollum the Cat by Xara.
Waiting for Inspiration by Quickbeam.
Peter and the Incredible Expanding Hobbit by Perian.
The Search of the Ents is Over by Xara.
True Love by Jen.
In every issue:
Fanfiction: This Fortnight:
Random Fandom.
Ask Samwise.
Classifieds.
Tolkienish.
Letters.
Ruling man, family man, gardening man, Mayor Gamgee is a prominent figure among the Shire folk. But how much is really known about him? In this exclusive article, your fearless reporter settles herself in the family room of Bag-End, the residence of the newly re-elected mayor for some face time with the Gamgees. Along with Mayor Samwise Gamgee is his lovely wife Rosie, who bakes the most exquisite biscuits, and their youngest sons Robin (8) and Tolman (6).
PRONGS: My congratulations on your third re-election, Sir. This is indeed an unprecedented feat.
SAMWISE: Ah, well thank you kindly. And please, call me Sam. I’m not on with all this Sir business. To tell you the truth, I found it rather strange that no-one was running against me this time so it wasn’t a victory really.
ROSIE: (interrupting Prongs) Darling, no one ran because no one can beat you! Don’t you remember what happened the last time you ran? Old Sancho Proudfoot sulked in his hole for a month after he lost.
SAMWISE: (blushing) You’re just endlessly supportive, aren’t you love?
Samwise and Rosie kiss.
PRONGS: (coughs discreetly) Ahem ahem.
SAMWISE: Oh sorry, this is why I never have her in the room while I work. She’s a distraction, see?
PRONGS: Aye, I do see. So, I was wondering why you didn’t sell Bag-End and move into the mayoral residence?
SAMWISE: (aghast) Leave Bag-End? Oh, I couldn’t do that! Mr. Frodo entrusted the premises to me and me missus! We would never dream of leaving it! Besides, don’t you know what happened the last time Frodo sold it?
PRONGS: Aye, but the Sackville-Baggiinses are no more what with Lotho and Lobelia being … well …
SAMWISE: Aye, but that’s not to say that there aren’t any crazies left in Hobbiton. (in a sombre voice) And if one of them lays claim to Bag-End it would be the downfall of all hobbit kind!
PRONGS: (grins) Now don’t you think you’re being slightly dramatic, Sam?
SAMWISE: (in a huff) Indeed I’m not! I’d rather not risk it thank you very much! And besides, the gardens at the Mayoral Mansion aren’t as lovely as the ones here!
PRONGS: Ah, I forgot about the gardens. Yours are lovely, Sam.
SAMWISE: Well, gardening is one of the family’s passions so …
ROSIE: (cuts in) Oh yes! Our eldest Elanor and her husband Fastred have a beautiful garden at Undertowers, their home on the Tower Hills
TOM: (interrupts) We help toooooooo …
ROBIN: (scornfully) I help! You don’t! You don’t even know the difference between a weed and a sap! You just ruin all my hard work!
TOM: (begins to pout) I do help! I do!
ROSIE: (cuts in before the debate can go any further) How about some sandwiches, boys? (the three walk off).
SAMWISE: (grins ruefully) What can I say? Boys will be boys.
PRONGS: That they will be. Speaking of which, may I inquire as to what became of the other boys?
SAMWISE: You mean my other children? Ruby and Bilbo and Primrose––
PRONGS: No, I meant Masters Meriadoc and Peregrin.
SAMWISE: (chortles) Well, why didn’t you say so? I’m joining then for an ale after this interview. Care to come with?
PRONGS: Indeed I shall. Thank you.
The rest of my day passes in a semi-drunken stupor. However,
I am glad to find that when I come to, I am sleeping under a lovely oak
tree with my notes still intact. Such is the interview as it happened.
Some people might say Gollum resembles a snivelling wretch, others
might say a misunderstood drug addict, some a schizophrenic. There are
many interpretations of Gollum/Smeagol to be found out there. But more
and more, since first I read the books to today when I watched Return of
the King, for me, Gollum/Smeagol is most reminiscent of a cat. That's right,
you heard me, a cat. I know it seems unlikely at first but the more and
more you think about it, it fits!
My first example of Gollum/Smeagol's cat-like qualities is of
course fish. We all know what Gollum's favorite good is. We also know what
every cat's favorite food is. I know my cat goes crazy when she scents
that fishy smell in the kitchen, and Gollum nearly got himself shot my
the Ithilien Rangers for fishing in their pool. Cats and Gollum, they just
can't help themselves when it comes to those strange creatures who are
"ever thirsty, never drinking. Clad in mail, never clinking," as Gollum
so accurately put it. But the similarities go much, much deeper than favorite
food. As most people know, and even those who don't have probably drawn
this conclusion anyway, Andy Serkis based some of his performance on his
own cats. The "Gollum" cough. The moment I saw that "Gollum" cough on screen
I was instantly reminded of my own cat, coughing up furballs. And this,
I later discovered, is exactly what it was based on.
Gollum/Smeagol's schizophrenic-like personality is also very
reminiscent of my own cat's at least unpredictability. Most people who
own a cat will know how strange they can be, especially when you're patting
them. One minute they're purring away and then next they're trying to rip
your arm off. I know, I have the scars to prove it. And that's another
thing that is similar between Gollum and cats. Their fighting styles. They
like to sneak up on you from behind and get all their limbs around you
and bite. It is an incredibly painful method for the victim. They latch
their front claws into your skin whilst kicking at you with their back
claws. Cats take a very hands on approach to pain inducement, they don't
look strong but they can be incredibly ferocious and completely mad when
roused, exactly like Gollum.
And finally, their movement. Gollum is agile, a good climber,
and faller I might add, he can creep and he can leap. The way a cat moves
as it plays in the garden is incredibly similar to the way Smeagol can
move when he's in one of those delightful good moods. The way a cat moves
when it's angry is a splitting image of the way Gollum moves when he's
in one of those murderous rages. Gollum/Smeagol is a cat in all but physicality.
To me, it's like he was born a hobbit by mistake, he missed his call in
life. Next time you watch Lord of the Rings, watch Gollum/Smeagol, and
I'm sure you'll agree, he's so much like a cat it's not funny.
There once was beautiful maiden who- wait, wait a minute. No,
there wasn’t. I mean, honestly, how many times has that been done? Why
is it so hard to find a plot? I’ve built an alter to the muses: Thalia,
Erato, Melpomene. So where’s my reward? I’ve been sitting at this damned
machine all night and every night before, and nothings coming. Maybe I
was better off with fan fiction. I mean, pre-made characters, settings,
languages, whole worlds, for God’s sake. Could it possibly be any easier?
But no, I just had to try my hand at originality. I mean, fan
fics are great place to start. For, like, the first week. And then you
get bored and then eventually realize at least twenty people have the same
plot. So much for ingenuity. Of course, I could go totally random. Woo,
I’m so spiffy. Then preteens with superiority complexes can log on and
coo at the screen. "Oh my gawd, She is just like me! She understands! She
is totally random and cool, like me!" and they’ll squeal and coddle their
monitors. Trust me, I am one of those children. And a word to the wise-
the monitors don’t like it.
So it’s way past my bedtime and I’m staring blankly at my screen.
Still. No words have appeared magically. I’ve channeled the spirits- they
haven’t quite gotten back to me yet. So I decided I needed inspiration.
Mountain Dew: check. Uber-cool pajama pants: check. An elastic so this
bloody mass of hair doesn’t get in my way: hold the phone; done and done.
I’ve got the chocolate chips, the hyper music is playing, I’ve adjusted
the chair, and I wait. Wish I’d thought to bring my watch back from that
Speech meet.
Oh, look, a well-written story. I bow to you, oh master. May
I please have an idea? I’ve waited so long for one. Snap, that sounds like
a poem. I’m through with poetry... well, at least for now. I did get a
good score on that poetry collection, though. Then again, I think my teacher
may just be desperate for talent. I will be very sorry to tell her she’ll
find none in me.
I think I had something- no, false alarm. I suppose I could
use a little more caffeine. I’m on a downward spiral leading right back
to mediocre fan fiction. Who knew it was an escalator?
Ack, it came and went? Already? As was the case with the extraordinary
Xara, the Samwise issue was unexpectedly difficult for me to write for.
I love Sam, of course (is it possible to be a follower of Tolkien and not
admire this stoic character?) but what could I write about him which has
not been written, said, thought, about him by each of as a thousand times
before?
I am sure that with the books and a moderate amount of time
something would have come. Alas, that moderate amount of time was not available,
as upon beginning this article it was once more the Wednesday before publication
(someone shackle me to my newsletter notebook, please.) So in casting desperately
about for an idea - I’m sorry, my dear Sam, for not better honouring you!
- this movie based quandary resurfaced.
Yes, you have all noticed by now one of Peter’s grandest mistakes
in character development ever made in his production of the Rings trilogy:
the continual sideways growth of Sam Gamgee. While Tolkien’s scenes were
calling for a tightened belt, Sean was having to loosen his. As Sam starved
in the wild and/or barren lands, his performer was more than feasting.
As our hero was enjoying his dried fruit near the Crossroads, theirs was
having an embarrassing moment in Osgiliath: "Put your sword under his chin."
"Which one?"
By all accounts, this was Peter’s doing. Fran, even, would stand
by the plump-but-not-yet-spherical shape as they shared their meals with
the suddenly insecure actor. But... why did he do it?
Let us for the moment give Peter Jackson the benefit of the
doubt, and try to think of what may have been going on in his mind. Could
there be a reason?
Theory 1: A Method to the Madness. Could it be that by adding
three meals and several sizes to Sean’s daily habits that he would have
more hobbitish feelings to draw upon as he performed? But do self-consciousness
and doubt help to create the Sam we know? Not at all. What else could it
be?
Theory 2: Leeembas. Possibly the most commonly flaunted theory
is that of the power of Lembas. One small bite is enough to fill the stomach
of a full grown man, isn’t it? All well and good, but all the Fellowship
ate more than he. All of Sam’s, or at least the greater amount, was going
to the wraith-thin Frodo. Unless Smeagol was right and Sam had been thieving
the food this, too, is out.
In a last, desperate attempt to explain away the incredible
expanding hobbit, theory three is occasionally introduced; that with his
noted custom of offering all remaining water to Frodo (at least until they
found a new source) he was inclined toward retention and swelling. I would
consult our resident dirty nursie on the matter, but even with my limited
knowledge I can assume that this would not happen over the course of .7
seconds. "...We’re trying to get to..." to "Let’s face it, Mr. Frodo, we’re
lost!" ‘Tis amazing.
So what is the real answer? Did Peter perhaps worry about being
the only true hobbit on set? Was there a reason at all? All theories are
welcome. Send them along to Letters: Perian@frontiernet.net. Whatever the
answer, ‘tis a bit of Ringer trivia which will last for Ages.
All those familiar with Tolkien's writings will be familiar with
the story of the Entwives, how Ents and Entwives became estranged and how
the Ents lost them (that is to say, they couldn't find them any more) during
the wars around the time of the Last Alliance. Songs were sung in many
parts of Middle Earth of the search of the Ents for the Entwives but all
their recorded searches were fruitless and the Entwives they never found.
However new evidence has come to light as to where the Entwives may have
gone and it is found in no more an obscure place than the Lord of the Rings
itself, passing reference though it may be. And where in the tale, do you
think, this evidence is found? "The Grey Havens"? No! "Treebeard"? Well
off the mark! Not even "The Old Forest"!
This evidence comes almost before the story begins. In the second
chapter, "The Shadow of the Past". I ask you now to picture The Green Dragon
Inn on an evening seventeen years after Bilbo's memorable departure where
one Samwise Gamgee sits in conversation with Ted Sandyman the Miller. Here
is a snippet of their conversation:
"...There's only one dragon in Bywater and that's the Green,"
he said, to a general laugh.
"Alright," said Sam, laughing with the rest. "But what about
these Tree-men, these giants as you might call them? They do say that one
bigger than a tree was seen up on the North Moors not long back."
"Who's they?"
"My cousin Hal for one. He works for Mr Boffin at Overhill and
goes up to the Northfarthing for hunting. He saw one."
"Says he did, perhaps. Your Hal's always saying he's seen things;
and maybe he sees things that ain't there."
"But this one was as big as an elm tree, and walking - walking
seven yards to a stride, if it was an inch."
"Then I bet it wasn't an inch. What he saw was an elm tree,
as like as not."
"But this one was walking, I tell you; and there ain't no elm
tree on the North Moors."
What Sam's cousin Hal saw was obviously some kind of Ent or Ent
relation, but there aren't meant to be any Ents in the Shire! What then,
could this strange creature be? Well, there is a group of displaced Ents,
more correctly known as Entwives, could it be that Hal saw an Entwife?
It is very possible. After all, Treebeard did say that the Entwives would
very much like the hobbit's little country. And what Sam was describing
is a very accurate picture of an Ent, surely it couldn't simply be that
his cousin Hal hallucinated something which fits so perfectly into the
category of Entwife? It has to be more than chance that Tolkien put that
snippet of conversation in there. Whilst the fact still remains unproven,
perhaps Treebeard should summon the Ents for one last search, in the North
Moors of the Shire.
"Well, what do you think of that?" Pippin asked, throwing himself
onto his hobbit-sized bed.
"I... I'm not sure," Merry replied.
"I wonder what they need us for, though..." the other continued,
"I mean, it's not like the fate of Gondor rests in out hands... It's not
really our concern."
"That's what I thought..." said Merry, turning to Pippin, "Why
are we needed?"
Pippin pondered this for a moment. "Maybe we're to be used as
messengers... I mean, in the midst of war, a small person isn't likely
to be noticed. We know our way around, as well... That's always useful."
"Pippin, any child in all of Gondor is small enough, and knows
their way around."
"But those children haven't fought wars," Pippin replied calmly.
Merry nodded his reluctant agreement and turned to look out the window
at the setting sun. He had come so far from home again and walked straight
into war. He wondered if he would see Estella or Halamore again, even if
he would see home again. He voiced his thoughts to Pippin.
"Of course you'll see them all again. It's not like we'll be
in the middle of the fighting. Or at least I hope not. We're not even sure
what we're supposed to be doing yet!" he walked to his cousin and looked
him in the eye. "You're paranoid."
Merry laughed. "I am not!"
"You are," Pippin said, looking mock-helpless. "You're a hopeless
case... Just one big mess of worries and frets. Loosen up!" He laughed,
Merry joining.
"You're right... But I just can't help it. I'm so far from home..."
"You've been far from home before, Merry. You'll be all right.
Just remember cousin Frodo... And Sam... They went all the way to Mordor.
We're in Gondor. There's nothing to worry about."
"Is there any chance that these pirates from the south will
make it here?" Merry asked.
"Not a chance." replied Pippin, praying in his heart he was
right.
Q: Whom did Paddy say was a Tolkien character in disguise in Xara's
Random Fandom column?
Q: In the article 'Elves - Best Served Hot' by Perian, what food does
she suggest Elves actually are?
Answers to be posted next week, as I have given up on you otherwise.
*Wink*.
Xara: After accepting your invitation to come to your house for a strawberry milkshake, Pippin is now in hospital in a coma....Why is that?
Eo'Star: Prior to the visit I slipped in some sleeping drought and some extra sugar (ok A LOT of extra sugar but what can I say? I am fond of the stuff) to the soy-milkshake (I don't drink milk) to balance out the drink. Then when that adorable, handsome, dreamy, valiant...What? I'm daydreaming? Sorry but I get distracted when thinking of Pip....Anyway as soon as he arrived he took a sip of the soy-milkshake and immediately passed out! I then took him into a hidden hobbit proofed room with a trap door to conceal him. The only problem was the door worked on a password that was none other than his name! So when Diamond came looking for him and called out "Pippin get out her right now" She triggered the trap door and found him unconscious in my hidden hobbit-proofed room. Needless to say some very intense fighting then took place in which there was much hair pulling and kicking. I won of course! But then she knew the password so she snuck in at night (ok so maybe it was at 10:00 AM when I am the deepest asleep but what can I say? A she-hobbits got to have a bit of fun) and stole him from me! She then took him to the hospital and I later learned that it was not the sleeping drought that put him into a coma that turned out to be just a bit of dandelion fluff what did it was the soymilk! Turns out Pip is allergic to soymilk! Or anything else particularly healthy for that matter. So now you know why I hate Diamond. Wait....What was the question again?
Xara: On your Tolkien research trip to the UK, rustling through a chest of old notes and letters of Tolkien's, you discover an ancient scroll, written by Frodo himself, telling the story of the Lord of the Rings!! This scroll PROVES it was a real event in the distant past!! What do you do?!!
Eo'Star: WOW! Ok firstly I would read it. I mean I have absolutely no patience so I would have to. Next I would build a shrine in my house just for it with all sorts of death traps around it like pits filled with people who hate LOTR (shudders) and all sorts of LOTR questions that only a complete LOTR fanatic could answer and such. Then after it was safe I would call a news press and prove to the world that is a real event! Then I would copy the sacred scrolls into a book so that all fans could read it first hand!
Xara: You are chatting on the Internet when suddenly Elijah Wood appears in the chat room!!! But you're in the middle of talking to him when your internet connection suddenly goes dead!!! What to do?! What to do?!!
Eo'Star: I would try to log on again to see if he was still on of course
and all the while I would scream and curse in 3 languages and scream and
run in circles and scream and eat and scream and pray to Manwe and scream.
Dear Samwise,
Don't you hate it when someone steals your name? How is it that
you can get them to stop? Is there any way to FORCE THEM TO CHANGE THEIR
NAME?
Sincerely, *SAM*
Dear Sam,
As imitation and flattery are all but the same, no, I don't
really mind that my name is often stolen. More than anyone else in the
Fellowship's, if I may say so. It's a thing to be proud of. And if I didn't
take to it, and knew of a way to force them to change there name, like
as not you wouldn't be writing as Sam.
The Other Sam.
Dear Samwise,
I'm having something of a writer's problem at the moment, and
I was wondering if you could help me. You see, I'm writing a fan fiction
at the moment, and although I am enjoying it there is always that lurking
nasty feeling that no-one is reading it, or that they are reading it and
they don't like it. Not that I'm saying anything against that, people have
a write to not read or not like what I write, but it doesn't really help
me keep writing it, so, how do I get rid of it?
~Xara.
Dear Xara,
What you need is a bit of endorsement. So, begging your pardon...
now where did I put that frying pan ... ah, here it is! Ahem... Read Hobbits,
Hats, and Silver Spoons and send your comments to xara229@hotmail.com,
or you'll feel this, you fi- Maybe that's going too far.
Sam.
OFFICIAL APOLOGY to new subscribers. A few of the buttons on the Newsletter site weren't debugged, so if anything is amiss with your subscription, write to Perian@frontiernet.net
HELP WANTED: Hobbits seeking Elf in experimental matters. Must be willing to walk long distances through marshes. Need to find out if dirt really does fall off of elves.
ADOPTION: Excitable, caring, loyal, female retriever (human). A lot
of people skills. Will not bite and is good with kids. Has black fur and
brown eyes. Wearing black collar and answers to Jewel Booger. Wonderful
at tricks can walk on hind legs and say oy! Any interested please contact
Eowyn Evenstar at StarSun16@aol.com
WANTED: A caring creature to replace a nasty hobbit who left heart open
and bleeding without care... *indiscernible due to wet paper and smeared
ink from tears* No basis for apply, just send picture and hair sample to
222 Dank Cave. (Hair sample needed for cuddling issues.)
Of Places and Geological Features, Part VI: (Key: q. = Quenya, s. = Sindarin.)
gond: (s., noun) stone. Gondolin, Gondor, Gonnhirrim, Argonath, seregon.
gor, goroth: (noun, adjective) horror, dread. Gorgoroth, Ered Gorgoroth.
groth, grod: (noun) delving, underground dwelling. Menegroth, Nogrod.
gwath, wath, weth: (s., noun) shadow. Delduwath, Ephel Duath, Gwathlo,
Ered Wethrin, Thuringwethil.
Dear Editor,
Wazoooo!!! We have an archive site at last! But oh the shame!
My self-written "about the staff" page is the longest of the four! How
embarrassing!!! Ivy, I don't have that mark on my finger, does that mean
I'm not a writer? But then, I type everything, maybe I have callouses on
my finger tips instead hehe...Thank you very much for the tips Perian!
I shall try to avoid cliches from now on, I have a sneaking feeling that
there have been many in my work so far, hmph...
~Xara
Dear Xara,
I know!!! Isn't it so thrilling? Our newsletter is moving up
in the world. *Polishes a phantom newsletter of the year award to await
the day in can be engraved with the i Nili logo*. And don't worry yourself
about the length of your bio. I was saving my babbling up for the other
site. So, truth be known, I think I passed you.
Yes, the pen is essential if you are to bear the mark, I can
say from experience. And I hope those tips help. Good luck in your writing
(as if you needed it!)
Perian.