i Nili o i Ardanole Newsletter:

Your source for Lord of the Rings News, Updates, Poetry, Art, Parody and Satire.


Issue 34, Volume 2, August 6th, 2004.

Editors: Perian, Xara. 
Primary Reporter: Ivy.
Chief Correspondent: Prongs.
Local Commentator: Rob Stames.
Contributor(s): Lady Morrigan Shadow.

In this issue:
Not Worthy by Xara.
Mentality by Perian.
Bilbo Baggins and the Thirteen Dwarves by Xara.

In every issue:
Fanfiction: This Fortnight:
Ivy's Newsletter Trivia.
Xara's Random Fandom.
Ask Samwise.
Comings and Goings at i Nili o i Ardanole by Rob Stames.
Tolkienish, provided by Perian.
Coming Next Issue: Aragorn Exclusive Issue.

Find past archives, or submit an article or column contribution, at http://inili.iwarp.com/

Not Worthy
By Xara

  Since the first time I became aware of the concept of Lord of the Rings having an author, the thought of Tolkien, as well as filling me with admiration, reverence and a twinge of jealousy, has always made me tremble in my boots. The image of the aged professor with his pipe haunted my nightmares, the little I read of him suggesting a very critical and serious man who I imagined would probably come after me and rap me on the head with his pipe for less than saintly thoughts about his beloved hobbits. I felt certain the great author of my most treasured trilogy would think me nothing more than a silly school girl. I was not worthy.
  And then I began to write fan fiction. Making his beloved characters the subject of hilarity. Though my respect for Tolkien and love of his trilogy was undiminished, I could not help myself from the jokes that seemed to be there for the taking. But my fear of Tolkien grew ever stronger! Surely the man was turning in his grave at every word I typed?! Surely my articles written about his work, especially some of the less reverent ones, would be enough to send his ghost after me in fury?! I was less than not worthy, I was despicable.
  These were my notions of what the author of the greatest literary author of all time would think of me. But what did I know, what do I know, of Tolkien's mind? Only what he set down on the page, but as Tolkien himself once said, "...only one's Guardian Angel, or indeed God Himself, could unravel the real relationship between personal facts and an author's works. Not the real author himself...and certain not so-called psychologists." What did I really know of Tolkien's mind, and whether he would believe me deserving of a strong reproof?
  Yet still I was uneasy in my mind. Until today. Until I learned what his very first published work was. A parody. Yes, a parody! Clever and witty, with elements of the ridiculous! His first published work was one of humour, of irreverence you might even call it (though I disagree that a parodist is necessarily irreverent to their subject)! It was a poem, in the King Edward's School Chronicle, a parody of The Lays of Ancient Rome, in which he gives his school-mates the names of ancient heroes and tells a Rugby match like it were an ancient battle.
  This was not the work of the man I had pictured, the aged professor with his pipe. This was surely the work of someone young, intelligent, with a great sense of humour! I then read that Tolkien and his school friend's main aim in their youth was to "incapacitate each other with laughter" (-Tolkien as quoted in Great War by John Garth.) Perhaps my impressions of Tolkien were wrong. Perhaps he would not think me so silly and despicable after all. Perhaps I was not so terribly unworthy. I still know as little of Tolkien's mind and personality as I do of the meaning of E = MC2, but I have come to understand that the man was human, just like everyone else. I threw the illusion of worthiness and unworthiness aside, and got on with my writing.

By Perian
  In the year 1 b.f.a. (before fourth age,) there were two known and documented certifiable lunatics in Middle-earth. One was the dual-minded Smeagol/Gollum, the other the suicidal pyromaniac Steward of Gondor, Denethor. Two out of tens of thousands. Nasties don't count, as historical records are always embellished by the victors.
  By the mid-twentieth century o.a.w.t.i. (our age, whichever that is,) the numbers had soared from two per continent to one per town. Every city had its raving drunk, every village its idiot, every town its one-eyed witch in the decrepit mansion on the hill. This was the crazy person of the area, and it was a comfort to know they were there; everyone could rest assured they were not as mad as Ladie McBethany on Black Douglas Hill.
  Then, perhaps five years ago, those assurances were lost when studies began to emerge which stated that one in three people had a mental disorder. One in three? That meant a third of your acquaintances were mad! That wasn't the end of it. By 2003 it had become one in two. What could possibly be causing this? Poisonous fumes? Disney cartoons? Pepperoni pizza?
  That, too, was not the end of it. I recently came across (or rather was sent by my co-editor,) an article which listed the symptoms of suspected psychopaths. It was, frankly, all-inclusive. A person would have to be a saint not to be listed on it. How many saints are there now? A handful at most. We have completely reversed since the end of the third age. Or have we? Tolkien's characters were not so very different from us. Could it be that the "everyone is mentally ill," prognosis set down today would apply to them? Yes. Absolutely. We have such a plethora of terms and lists of symptoms that it would be difficult to be alive and not fit some label. Oh, but surely The Lord of the Rings protagonists are pure, clean, stable!
  Let's start with Frodo. He's so innocent, kind, caring, intelligent. He was given the Ring because of his dependability. However, definitions (based solely on externals, and utterly unprovable by blood tests and whatnot,) describe those who are sad or angry for more than, get this, five days as depressed. Frodo, being Ringbearer; being stabbed, impaled, stung, and shot at; seeing death first hand; believing his friends and cousins had been killed; tramping through desolate wastelands; was in despair for several months. I suppose that makes him manic-depressive.
  Though multiple personalities are Gollum's specialty, the title of schizophrenic (hearing and/or conversing with voices in the mind, once known as "thinking",)  goes to his third-age arch enemy, Samwise. You heard me right. If you don't believe me, turn to The Choices of Master Samwise or Mt. Doom.
  The bi-polar (very dramatic mood swings in either direction,) goes to Eowyn. In love one moment, hopeless and heartbroken the next, in love again a moment later. She even went so low as to nearly commit a form of suicide, and murder a Witch King instead.
  Gandalf could well qualify for both short and long term memory disorder so severe it bordered on Alzheimer's disease or amnesia. "Gandalf?" he once asked in puzzlement under the leaves of Fangorn Forest when directly addressed.
  Have you ever noticed that, while extremely  capable and content with people around, Merry never functioned well alone? That's right, Pippin had a co-dependant cousin on his hands. Hmm, is in-dependance also an illness? If so, we could pin that one on Aragorn.
  Aragorn. The restless Aragorn, ever on the move to flee enemies, why, could he not have had attention deficit disorder? Or Bilbo, never at ease amid his disgustingly dull-witted relatives, could be said to have social anxiety. And the elves' blindfolding of their guests could be interpreted as some form of mass paranoia.
  Here's my favourite: The dictionary in my lap defines neurosis as "any of various psychic or mental disorders." Does that mean Denethor's malfunctioning palantir was neurotic?
  So, you see, we multiple billions (and trillions, if you count the mounting number of alter-egos,) are not alone after all.

Bilbo Baggins and the Thirteen Dwarves
By Xara
With thanks to Perian for the name and the inspiration.

  Once upon a time, in a far away kingdom there lived a young hobbit princeling named Bilbo Baggins. His mother had died in childbirth, and soon after this his father had married again. So Bilbo had a step-mother. Now, this step-mother was the most fascinating story-book character in the land. For example, she was a step-mother, and this instantly gave her an untrustworthy usurper-type feel. She was also very beautiful, but vain, which gave the reader something to disapprove of. And she was an evil jealous pain in the behind. She had a mirror which told only the truth, and every day she would cry to it, "Mirror, mirror on the wall! Who is the best character of them all?" And the mirror would reply, "Who could it be but you, witch! There's none around who's such a (censored)" And the queen was satisfied.
  Meanwhile, Bilbo Baggins grew, and grew, and as he grew, he became more and more fascinating. He acquired a quirky, eccentric personality, a fondness for going off on adventures and a knack of getting himself into danger, then saving himself cleverly at the last minute. He bobbed around in his hobbit way smoking pipes and having second breakfasts and being very entertaining, until one day, the queen cried to her mirror, "Mirror, mirror on the wall! Who is the best character of them all?" And the mirror replied, "Juicily evil though you are, Bilbo Baggins is more fascinating by far!"
  Thje queen screamed in furious jealousy!! Bilbo had surpassed her! This she could not have. So she called the royal huntsman to her and cried, "Take Bilbo Baggins out into the woods and smte him from this earth! Then bring me back his bleeding heart!" Terrified of the woman's wrath, should he refuse, the huntsman obeyed, and took Bilbo out into the woods. But as he rose his axe the poor hobbit "Confound and confusticate it! Blast and bebother it! This is surely the end!" And the huntsman was so amused by the hobbit sentiments that he bade him flee into the woods. The huntsman then grabbed a passing boar and removed it's heart to bring back to the queen.
  Now, Bilbo Baggins ran and ran and ran as fast as his hobbit legs could carry him until he reached a strange hut, and there he found living thirteen dwarves, who had the very worst of luck possible! They were miners, but every day at least one of them hammered his thumb by mistake or hit his head on the roof or fell down a mine-shaft into a pool of boiling oil. They had just discovered that thirteen was an unlucky number and were discussing recruiting a fourteenth dwarf or similar when Bilbo walked in through the door. "Perfect!" They cried at him. Bilbo was rather confused, but they soon explained all and he was very happy with his new life as a hobbit-dwarf.
  Back at the palace, the evil step-mother queen, confident that the Baggins had been destroyed cried to her mirror, "Mirror, mirror on the wall! Who is the best character of them all?" But the mirror replied, "Awfully nasty though you be, the answer to your question Bilbo Baggins be!" The queen was once again furious! She stomped, she screamed, she roared, she raged! She grabbed her best rags and a poison apple and headed for the door.
  It just so happened that the same day as all this happened Bilbo Baggins was home alone. He had a headache and so had been exempt from mining duty for a days rest. He was just enjoying a good smoke when there came a knock at the door. "Who is it?" he called.
  "Just an old peasant woman, come to sell apples!" cried the queen from outside.
  "Apples!!" cried Bilbo, his hobbit-nature springing up eagerly, "Brilliant! He opened the door and bought an apple from his evil step-mother, disguised as a peasant, and was about to bite into it when suddenly..
  "Hold it!! Hold it!!" Cried a lawyer in a black suit with a briefcase. "Excuse me, Mr. Baggins, but you're going to have to break this up. Hobbits are copyright, especially you. You're only allowed to appear in The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit. Now you must accompany me immediately out of this story. Come on!"
  "Yipeee!!" cried the evil step-mother, "I am free of the wretched rival!"
  "And as for you," the lawyer continued, "Evil step-mothers can only legally appear in Cinderella from now on. I'm afraid you'll have to be terminated."
  "T-t-terminated?" cried the queen, aghast. "But, but, I have rights you know! I have the right to be the most evil person in this story and kill that damn hobbit!"
  "Not any more you don't." said the lawyer, producing a magic contract, which, on seeing, caused the evil step-mother to fade into oblivion.
  "How dare you!" cried Bilbo.
  "What's all this noise?" came a voice from behind. Bilbo turned around, the dwarves had returned home from the mines.
  "They're trying to take me away!" cried Bilbo.
  "I knew we should have made him come. As soon as we went back to thirteen the bad luck returned!" Muttered a dwarf.
  "Unlucky thirteen you say?" said the lawyer, "That's not allowed. A Mr. Smithby copyrighted unlucky thirteen this morning. It'll have to be twelve from now on." The dwarves looked outraged.
  "Now just you wait a minute," cried one.
  "You'll do," said the lawyer, and with that, the dwarf disappeared. Consternation arose from both the dwarves and Bilbo.
  "Now Bilbo," continued the lawyer, "You're going to have to have this brand," he produced a TM brand from his pocket and began to heat it with a cigarette lighter, "And just to make sure no one tried to write you into any other stories again, you can wear this collar." He clipped a large metal collar around the hobbits' neck, attached to which was a chain which the lawyer held. "Now, say goodbye."
  "May the force be with you," said Bilbo to the dwarves solemnly as he was led away.
  "I could have you fined for that you little beggar." said the lawyer to Bilbo as they vanished from the story forever. The End.
  "Oi," said the lawyer, returning briefly, "None of that, please." Sorry. The Favooshka.
  "That's an interesting word. Would you like to take out a copyright on it?" the lawyer appeared again. No, bugger off.
  "You're missing out. Ah well, bye!"


  Have you recently read a book you would like to recommend to our readers? Send a review to Perian@frontiernet.net

This Fortnight: The Fourteenth and Final Chapter of The Long Road Home
By Ivy

  Merry felt weak. He had made this entire journey and others - he had shared his entire life - with this hobbit. As he knelt over the body of his cousin, his once sparkling eyes - eyes that were always fulls of laughter and spontaneity - staring up at the night sky, now empty and lifeless, his feelings of grief were overcome with the sudden insatiable urge for revenge.
  Within the next hour, Meriadoc Brandybuck passed on that field while defending Minas Tirith as Eomer of Rohan watched from his steed in helplessness as the hobbit attempted in vain to fight off three of the enemy at once.
  Gondor was victorious, and many had fallen. A special ceremony was held for the two hobbits. A monstrous pyre was erected, and both Merry and Pippin were laid upon it, clad in the attire of Rohan and Gondor.
  As a messenger reached the edge of the Anduin, he looked back and saw flames reaching for the sky.


  Estella had just finished her daily stroll when she saw the horse and rider at the end of the road. Thinking it was Merry returning to her, she ran to him, only to find it was actually a young man. Her husband was not in sight. Confused, she accepted the sealed message given to her by the man and watched him ride off before opening it. The handwriting was not any she recognised. As she read the letter, one hand came to her throat. She looked up from the letter and down at the road Merry and Pippin had taken to Minas Tirith, and she let the tears roll down her face. She sank to the ground, the message still clutched in her hand. She sat there in silent grief, staring at the road, lamenting that they never found a way back home.

Newsletter Trivia.

Our regular writer will be back next issue, I promise! Until then:

  Q. Name five staff alter-egos.
  Q. When was the first issue published? 

  (Try not to cheat. It's more fun that way.) 

Random Fandom.
  Oh, no! Another missing column! So, a message from the editors:
  Help save the newsletter from such gaps and discrepancies! See your name in print!
  If you would like to be interviewed for Random Fandom, write to xara229@hotmail.com All other columns and contributions can either be sent to Perian@frontiernet.net or submitted using the form on the Newsletter's official homepage at http://inili.iwarp.com/ Grammercy!

Ask Samwise.
  Dear Samwise,
  SAM!!! I have a big, big problem, old Sam! I was asked by this big publishing company to write a biography of myself, right? They gave me this laptop computer and everything, so I was typing it all in, was on about the 100 page mark and still hadn't made it to the Ring when... THE COMPUTER DELETED IT ALL!!! Help me, Sam! I can't remember half of what I wrote, you know my life story better than me, could you jog my memory?
  Dear Frodo,
  Now, I'll answer that soon enough, but first: What were you doing writing on a computer!?! It's not natural! None of it! I'll send you your spare inkpot as soon as I'm finished here.
  I'll be happy to jog your memory. Let's see, where shall we start? I think the Green Dragon, next Stersday, 'round dusk? You bring the parchment, I'll bring the "Mayor - Free Port" pass.

Comings and Goings at i Nili o i Ardanole
By Robert Stames

  People! There is a site up on the internet. It's called i Nili o i Ardanole! I know a lot of you guys are members. So start acting like members! So now that my Mr. Hyde routine is over with, I will be nicer and say that activity at the site has been low again due to fact that many of our beloved (and loud) members are still away ... 
  Unfortunately, we have had no new additions to the i Nili community this week ... guess that's one less job for me.
  More unfortunate news ... Ivy, Prongsie and Perian are still missing ... and Fool of a Took has decided to leave us also .... *sigh* When last we heard from Ivy, she was enjoying herself in sunny Spain ... she then went to Ireland and will be back with us on the fourth of August. Hurrah! Prongsie is still studying for her scholarship examination ... she will write the exam. next Friday and will be back with us after that. Perian ... I do not care to speculate as to where our manager is ... she pops up now and again on the message boards but that's the most I know. As for Fool, she has gone on a mission trip with her church group to Southern Virginia. We wish her all the best. Padfoot has also temporarily departed ... she has gone to camp.
  However, several members have made a return to the site, including Arwen, Sam, Friend of a PippinLover and Nienna! Welcome back! I don't know you guys but my better half does and apparently, you'll were missed ... good to have you back! Viggo's Girl is making a full recovery from her knee surgery ... good luck!
  Lady Morrigan Shadow posted an entertaining, albeit, very dirty Lord of the Rings quiz which can be viewed here. You have been warned. This quiz is dirty and not for the faint of heart. Speaking of LMS, she needs some help ... she is looking for pictures of pants on the Lord of the Rings movie characters. Confused? Look here.
  Also, the i Nili July winners have been revealed. Congratulations to LMS (Member of the Month and Artist of the Month for 'Smeagol'), Xara J. (Verse of the Month for 'I Came Here to Tell You' -- very good piece of work, I might add) and to the Encyclopedia of Arda (Site of the Month).
  Ah, another happy note with which to leave you with. Hopefully, the boards will come alive this week, and I will have more news for you all in the next issue. In the meantime, keep it real and keep it fun ... enjoy the hols., enjoy the sun. Ciao!

FOR SALE: Bushels of Mushrooms. 1 bushel for 1 pint of the best brewed ale in the shire. Unless you're a Baggins named Frodo (if you are, it'll cost ya some of that gold yer uncle's hidin', boy!)

WANTED: A sharp axe with which to wipe all uncooperative, evil computers who delete important files from the face of the earth. I will pay money. In fact, you can help me! Who wants to help? xara229@hotmail.com

Of Places and Geological Features, Part XIV: (Key: q. = Quenya, s. = Sindarin, where known.)
talath: (noun) flat lands, plain. Talath Dirnen, Talath Rhunen.
tathar (s.) tasare (q.): (noun) willow. Nan-tathren, Tasarinan, Nan Tasarion.
taur (s.) taure (q.): wood, forest. Tauron, Taur-im-Duinath, Taur-nu-Fuin.
thang: (noun) oppression. Thangorodrim, Durthang.
thar-: (adverb) athwart, across. Sarn Athrad, Thargelion, Tharbad. 

  Dear Editor,
  My mum licks the magazine pages ;) but I don't really understand why.
  Dear Other Editor,
  Unfathomable and confusticating, isn't it?

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