i Nili o i Ardanole Newsletter:

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


Issue 47, Volume 3, February 4th, 2004.

Editors: Perian, Xara. 
Primary Reporter: Ivy.
Chief Correspondent: Prongs.
Columnists: Lady Morrigan Shadow, Padfoot, Cerridwen.
Contributor(s): Shelly

In this issue: Pippin!
Ernil i Pheriannath! by Xara.
Objections! by Perian.
Mmmm... Mmmm Good by Padfoot.
Pippin - Princeling or Pilferer? by Xara.
The Many Sides of Peregrin Took by Ivy
Little Hobbit in a Big City by Perian
In every issue:
Fanfiction: This Fortnight: If the Light Should Ever Fade, Part Four by Cerridwen.
Ivy's Newsletter Trivia.
Xara's Random Fandom.
Ask Samwise.
Tolkienish, provided by Perian.

Find past archives or contribute at http://inili.iwarp.com/

A Brief Message From the Editor
Hello everyone! I will not keep you from your Pippin long. This is just a brief notice to say that my time as Editor in Chief has as of this day expired, and our lovely Perian will be taking over in the head job once again, so could you please send any subscriptions, contributions and things like that to her new address Perian@HotPOP.com. I'd also like to thank everyone who contributed to the past two issues for your support, and my computer for only mucking things up twice. And now, on to that young hobbit rascal, Peregrin Took, to whom this issue is dedicated. Enjoy!

 Ernil i Pheriannath!
By Xara
With thanks to Perian.

  "Ernil i Pheriannath!" Such were the cries on the streets of Minas Tirith as Peregrin Took, newly sworn-in guard of the citadel passed by, "The Prince of Halflings!" And we laugh at this title, as Pippin was far from princely, Billy Boyd's version even more so than Tolkien's. But was this title actually very far from the truth? With a little toe-dipping into Peregrin's family tree and an ankle splashing of Shire/Arnor history, ironically this title proves to be incredibly accurate. Whether or not this was by the design of Tolkien is unknown. Let me elaborate.
  Pippin's father, Paladin Took, was the undisputed Thain of the Shire, a hereditary title which made him their military leader in highly improbable times of crisis. Now, in The Shire, as there had been no need for a Thain in a terrible long count of years, this title didn't mean a lot, and outside The Shire, where it's affairs were considered frivolous and of no consequence, except by Gandalf, it didn't mean a whole lot more, but the history of this title has surprising significance. You see, after the fall of the Kingdom of Arnor, and there was a King in the seat at Fornost no more, the hobbits of The Shire, who had held Aragorn's ancestors their rightful King, didn't know what to do. They'd never considered that there might not be a King anymore. And so they appointed a Thain, their military leader and stand-in for the King, until such a time as the rightful King should return.
  And so, in actual fact Paladin the Thain, was actually a stand-in King, like Denethor was a steward of Gondor. A care-taker, until such time as the rightful King, Aragorn as it turned out, should return. This makes Pippin, his son, or Peregrin as we should call him, being so high and mighty and above such nicknames, the equivalent of a prince of The Shire. A Prince of Halflings!
  Although Peregrin adamantly denied the claims that he was a prince, did he himself make this connection? Did Tolkien make this connection? Well, he wrote it all, down to the last word. In an entire history of a world, written by one man, is anything a coincidence? I think not. But Pippin, well he seems to have been blissfully unaware of his high and mighty connections, and this is probably for the better, as the thought would probably have shocked the fur off his overlarge feet! A prince of halflings that sneaks around with his friend Merry (who could also be considered a prince of a sort, being the son of the Master of Buckland) and steals mushrooms from Farmer Maggot! That sounds like hobbits to me!

By Perian.

  Pippin was an extremely important member of the Fellowship, whether everyone admits it or not. No, he was not the strongest, nor the bravest, nor did he have the kind of inner resolve necessary to bear a Ring of Power. He placed them all in danger more than once, and Gandalf’s exclamation of "fool of a Took!" was appropriate, if not kind. He quailed at the sight of the Nazgul, rather than attacking them (as Frodo did, *cough* Tsk, Peter! *cough*) or successfully stabbing them (as Merry did). And for as much as he ate he apparently didn’t even know how to cook. So why was Peregrin Took so indispensable? Other than for the comic relief, that is.
  Quite simply, Pippin functioned as a sort of devil’s advocate for the Fellowship. While Boromir made suggestions more often than was desired, they were all self-focused. Pippin, on the other hand, was a voice for no one in particular.
  This came naturally to him. After all, he was a Took. He came from the longest line of eccentrics in the Shire. An eccentric is a form of objection against the hive mentality. These sorts always become leaders, and so he did, but that’s for another issue.
  Even among the Tooks, however, he was an exception. At Bilbo’s birthday party, he was the only Took to enjoy Bilbo’s behaviour and not think it absurd. Uh oh! Here was a Took who was also a follower of Mad Baggins. He might become adventurous and thoughtful and interesting and for the Shire’s sake don’t let that happen to the lad! Oops. Too late.
  From that point on he never seemed to agree with anyone. When the black rider turned up on the road, matching the description Sam gave of a stranger who had come to Bagshot Row earlier, it was Pippin who denied the connection. While this may seem a foolish thing to do, you have to consider that we know the ending and he did not. He was the only hobbit open to the possibility that other creatures were pursuing them. Denial is always a great morale booster.
  He continued this for quite some time. "Shortcuts make long delays," "You slept late, you mean," "What are you going to do, then?" and of course his most famous contradiction in going against Denethor’s orders and saving Faramir. His most important objection, however, is one not given much attention, save perhaps in the form of a chuckle. After the Council of Elrond he made a statement which changed the course of Middle-earth’s history:
  "We hobbits ought to stick together, and we will. I shall go, unless they chain me up. There must be someone with intelligence in the party."
  Never was a truer word spoken, even if Elrond might have been thoroughly irked at this. Hobbits should stick together (right, Prongsie?). Sam stuck through to Frodo to the very end of all things… well, maybe not the end of all things. The end of the Ring, at least, though. So Frodo has a melodramatic streak. And Merry stuck to Pippin, right up until the time when he was left behind in Rohan, leading to the friendship with Eowyn’s alter-ego, and so on and so forth. You should know the results by now. Pippin, in his obstinacy, saved the world. Now doesn’t that make him feel special?
  Not only that, he became a king in his own right. Och, lad I don’t know where you’ve been, but it seems you’ve won first prize.

 Mmmm…. Mmmm Good.
By Padfoot

    As you all know the national dish of Mordor is hobbit soup, or stew however you want to prepare it. As you can see there are many different hobbit families and such so what kind of hobbit would be the best for soup? The answer is Pippin. Yes the loveable hobbit that went on the journey to destroy the fabled ring of power, and then later on met up with some Ents, yadda yadda yadda you all know the story. Hobbits like Pippin are perfect for hobbit soups and stews.     
    First off Pippin is a youngin. Very nice tender meat. In fact the younger the hobbit the better tasting the meat. Though if you get to young like below fifteen the meat gets very disgusting and you end up putting lots of spices like adobo and Montreal steak sauce all over it. Another reason hobbits like Pippin are the best kind for hobbit soups and stews is because of the ent draught. The ent draught makes the meat soft and easier for cutting into small pieces. With ent draught in a hobbit you end up getting more meat from the bone and you don’t waste as much. Those are pretty much the only reasons Pippin is a good hobbit to eat but I will leave you with my secret recipe for hobbit soup.
        1 diced hobbit
        6 cups water
        3 cups carrots
        4 cups chopped potatoes
        4 cups chopped lettuce
        3 cups adobo
        2 packets of Montreal steak sauce
        5 packets of ramen noodles
Mix everything except the diced hobbit in a bowl until noodles are soft. Place over open flame until carrots get soggy. Add hobbit. Stir for 20 minuets or
until you can smell the adobo. Take off of open flame and let cool for 5 minuets. Serves approximately 20. Enjoy!

Pippin - Princeling or Pilferer?
By Xara.

  It had been my original intention in writing this article, to draw attention to the differences in the portrayal of Pippin between Tolkien's and Peter Jackson's versions of the Lord of the Rings. Peter Jackson, I thought, had shown him as more foolish than the poor hobbit really was, whereas Tolkien had portrayed him as a rather naive but reasonably intelligent young hobbit, worthy of the name Pheriannath, prince of halflings. And so I set to work, finding a good decent quote from Pippin from FotR before he begins to learn about the ways of the wide world, that would back me up.
  Nothing! I could find nothing! All the good serious, intelligent things I seemed to remember Pippin saying, had really been said by Merry. My memory it seemed, had failed me. I had intended to show you a Pippin quote from the movie, and a Pippin quote from the same place in the book to highlight the differences, but instead, I have only quotes that show similarity:
"Anyway, you need people of intelligence on this sort of mission, quest, thing..."
  "I shall go, unless they chain me up. There must be someone with intelligence in the party."
Yes, Peter changed the wording a bit to get more of a laugh, but the character is the same. I'm sorry Pip, I went searching for a princeling, and all I found was a pilferer. Although I am quite interested to see if anyone can prove me wrong. Which one is he? You tell me!

The Many Sides of Peregrin Took

By Ivy.

Close your eyes (Well, not really, just mentally) and picture this: Light brown curls that shine gold in the sunlight, tumbling down into emerald green eyes. Down a long, thin nose to a mouth complete with a mischievous grin ready to break out at any moment. Sounds like bliss, doesn't it? Actually, it sounds like Pippin! But there is more to this hobbit than just his gorgeous looks and readiness for trouble. Don't agree? Then allow me to help shed some light.

Peregrin the Authoritative.

What? Pippin Took, giving orders? Unheard of! On the contrary, it's often heard when in the presence of this hobbit. Many of his first quotes book-wise are giving out orders, and isn't that what a Thain should do? After all, leaders must have some authority, no matter how much of an oxymoron it sounds like to have 'Pippin' and 'authority' in the same sentence unless it's something like 'Pippin has a complete lack of respect for authority'. He must have grown out of that, though, or else the Shire might still be in chaos!

Peregrin the Romantic.

You must agree, if you were a hobbit lass you would be head over heels for him. (Well, I would be). Again, close your eyes (And again, not really) and imagine: On a warm summers' day you're sitting beside the banks of the Brandywine river, feeling the breeze in your hair and the grass between your fingers. All of a sudden, a certain Took plops down beside you, curls shining, and hands you a massive bouquet of flowers stolen straight from the Bag End garden with a big, lopsided grin on his face. Awww. How else did he win one of the jewels of Long Cleeve?

So, you see, no matter what Pippin may seem like, there is more to him than those lovely eyes and that drool-worthy little smile. Perhaps now, if you didn't before, you can view him for what he really is: Peregrin Took, Thain.

Little Hobbit in a Big City
By Perian.
  The first time, and many times after when it comes to that, I read The Lord of the Rings, I was in complete and utter befuddlement when Pippin sank into a depression while in Minas Tirith. Yes, he was more or less alone there, but this is a hobbit with limitless curiosity! Surely he would be better spending his time exploring this vast and beautiful city. Or, come to that, trying to find a way out before the battle hit. It wouldn't have been so very hard with the son of a guardsman as his companion. To sum up, why wasn't he enjoying the adventure of it obliviously as he did with everything else, rather than moping?
  The universe decided to answer my question. Like Pippin, I was was hoisted out of a spot which for all intents and purposes was in the middle of nowhere of the world. The people were simple (I'll agree with the Bagginses here and say generally stupid, with a few exceptions) and plopped into one of the most beautiful cities in the world. A mountain to the north, ocean to the south, capital of its particular land and a forerunner to the cultures of the world. The parallels are not endless, but certainly numerous. The parallel which made me identify with Pip, however, was that I alone, and completely overwhelmed.
  Travelling with people you know is, in my opinion, one of the greatest experiences one can have in life. You see new things, add fuel to your curiosity - satiate it? On the contrary! There are so many questions left unanswered - meet incredibly unusual people (and incredibly normal ones, too), and to add one more bit of rhetoric to the rest, have fun. There's a catch in that, mind. It's the word with. Once you're alone, it's a different experience entirely, at least the first time. Culture shock hits and leaves you quaking and confused. Quacking, too, or at least so it feels when you listen to your utter lack of an accent against the more exotic and lilting lack of an accent from the native lips. Loneliness sets in soon after, when you realise that there are literally billions of people in the world with whom you do not and never will exchange private jokes with. And the primary symptom of these combined maladies? Ego-deflation. Particularly for the small-town types. Particularly those who are a great deal shorter than everyone around.
  Peregrin, son of Paladin, fellow sufferer of "little hobbit in a big city" syndrome, my heart goes out to you. Pass an apple and I'll give you a knee up to look over the city wall.

Princes of Ireland: The Dublin Saga by Edward Rutherfurd
Reviewed by Cerridwen.

  At 770 pages, this is a good book for winter break! Covering events that impacted the evolution of Dublin and the powerful men and women that were in control during those times. Starting in 430 AD, when Dublin was called Dubh Linn and ending in 1533, when it was known to most by its current name, the book details events by following the family lines of certain people, none of whom are real. The fictional characters, however blend well into the storyline, customs and names matching the traditions of the time beginning with the coming of St. Patrick and the conflict between the new religion and the old gods, and cycling through the arrival and settlement of the Vikings, the armies of Brian Boru, the defeat at the hands of the English, and ending with the destruction of thousands of religious objects under the orders of King Henry VIII.
  The characters, however fictional they may be, really bring the feelings of the people as these events took place to life covering the range from a mother's fear, a lover's loss, a father's pride, a son's return to a husband's betrayal. A very useful genealogical chart at the beginning helps clarify who is related to whom and by what time that occurs, and a pronunciation guide in the back is just as helpful as the chart, and in text pronunciations are incredibly well placed.

This Fortnight: If the Light Should Ever Fade
Part Four
By Cerridwen.

  "It is settled then. Eiliandel will try to clear this weather and that should allow us to assess how much military power we have. Then we will plan our next move." Aragorn closed the informal meeting. They all rose, heading towards their rooms. The storm was still raging outside, leaving Aragorn to wonder if Nenwen and Eladrion had opened any windows. He accepted Neva from Meluiwen as she passed and headed towards his own rooms.
  The rain felt like ice, driven from the winds continuous gusting. Arwen shivered in the cloak that her captor had wrapped around her. She had woken up just as he had settled them onto a large horse. She'd tried to protest, but a quick look from him had silenced her, not that it had mattered. The howling winds were too loud for her to even hear over, much less shout. He'd directed them around the gate and outside the city walls, although he could barely see ahead of him. He kept a tight grip on her as they rode on, to what destination, Arwen did not know.
  "Arwen?" Aragorn called softly, giving a knock on the door. He entered the room and stopped short. The bed was empty. Putting Neva in her crib he began to look around. "Arwen!" he called loudly. He received no answer from anywhere in their chambers, so he headed towards the hall. "ARWEN!!!" he shouted. His voice echoed down the hall. He receive no answer from her delicate voice.
  Legolas, the twins, Ciryawen, and Meluiwen came running down the hall, followed closely by Eiliandel and Novrion, along with the children. "What is......?" Legolas asked.
  Aragorn cut him off, "She's gone. I can't find her!". Legolas paled, "Perhaps she went to the library and cannot hear you." he suggested hopefully. Aragorn shook his head, "There are too many stairs to the library, she is unable to climb out of bed with ease, much less climb the stairs!" he protested. "What's that?" Elrohir asked, pointing to Arwen's side of the bed. There was a neatly folded square of parchment resting where she would normally lay. Aragorn picked it up, and read it, his face blanching. "Return our treasure and we shall return yours," Legolas read over his shoulder. Elladan looked up, "Talath," he said in a low dangerous tone that caused Ciryawen to look at him in concern. "He took her."

  Thurin looked at the back of the sleeping elvish woman's head. She had fallen asleep and Thurin had covered her with his cloak and continued riding towards Talath's stronghold. He shifted her grasp on her as the horse sped up to a smooth gallop. She leaned limply against him, unaware of her surroundings.
  Eiliandel's shoulders relaxed as she released her breath. Opening her eyes, she saw the sun, "It worked!" she heard Faramir exclaim behind her. She nodded, looking at her handiwork. A circle of dark clouds and fog encircled the city, but did not enter it. The wolves remained within the fog banks, making the city safer. "The weather is that of a spell. I have created a thicker air barrier between the city and the fog and wolves. It will hold against Talath's spells." Eiliandel said as Legolas and Aragorn approached. "It is settled. We'll go get her." Legolas said firmly. Aragorn nodded, their last idea was the best. Eomer, Faramir, Eowyn and Novrion would remain the city, along with the children. Aragorn, Legolas, the twins, and all three of the elvish women would go in search of Arwen. Quickly, they gathered weaponry and supplies that they would need for the journey, and gathered horses for all of the members of the search party. No one needed a saddle or bridle, so they were able to hurry about their departure, Aragorn stopping for a moment to grab a cloak for Arwen when they found her. As they began to leave, Novrion grabbed Legolas's arm, "My friend. Take care of my wife." with that, he backed up and watched as Legolas bowed his head slightly, in acceptance of Novrion's wish and moved to ride near Eiliandel, vowing to do his best to protect her. "Aa’ menle nauva calen ar’ ta hwesta e’ ale’quenle." Novrion said solemnly as they began to ride off.

* * *

  "Walk." Thurin ordered Arwen as he pulled her off the horse. Arwen landed gracefully on her feet, wincing as she landed, but remaining as stoic as she could. Thurin took a firm hold on her arm as they approached Talath and Haradion's stronghold. An imposing structure, built of stone, it reached towards the sky, lit with a menacing reddish light, contrasting with the blackness of the sky. Arwen did not know if it was night, but she did not inquire. Wolves lurked around the stronghold, snarling and growling as they moved about. Arwen watched them with concern, but they remained away from her and Thurin as they walked towards the building. Thurin escorted her up a staircase, allowing her no rest even when she tired, forcing her farther into the darkness of the building. He shoved her through a door, Arwen straightened nobly as she saw who was standing in front of her. "Ah! I do hope you enjoyed your journey here, my Queen." Talath sneered at her. Arwen looked at him haughtily, her elvish height bringing her to his eye level, she gave him no reply, causing him to scowl. "Very well. Where did your husband hide our treasure?" he loudly asked her. Arwen stared ahead, offering him not even the bat of an eyelash. Talath growled, "Answer me! Answer me!" Arwen gave him a cold regal look before returning to stare ahead again. He glared malevolently and backhanded her, causing her to stumble backwards. Thurin watched with a bored expression from behind her, making no move to catch her. Arwen recovered her balance and gritted her teeth. She would give him nothing. Talath was extremely angry now, he paced around her, "So, you think to remain silent? Do you think that will have me leave you alone?" he grinned to Thurin, "Lock her away." Thurin wrenched her arm as he dragged her off.

  "All right, Eiliandel, clear the path." Elrohir said. Eiliandel began to concentrate, pushing the fog away, allowing the sun to grace their faces. The wolves had been found to retreat with the fog, so Eiliandel had only to push away the fog to keep them safe. They rode forward, Eiliandel creating a circle of safety around them. Legolas looked at her, wondering at Novrion's request. Eiliandel could defend herself, she had many times before, yet Novrion seemed convinced she would need help before she returned. Aragorn urged his horse to a gallop, the twins and Meluiwen and Ciryawen helping to track the path of Arwen's captor.

  "Estel," Arwen whispered as she pulled herself into a corner of the room she'd been locked in. A faint smile graced her lips as she pulled his face from memory. He would come for her. He would search to Valinor itself until he found her. With this thought, Arwen steeled her resolve. He would not leave her, in return, she must not say a thing to her captor. Turning she stared out the window, staring at the dark sky.

  "They passed through here." Ciryawen's voice seemed to come form a distance as she searched near the edge of the circle of sun that Eiliandel maintained. Aragorn hurried over and studied the track, "Eiliandel! Are you able to come this way?" he asked. Atop her horse, the enchantress did not respond, her dark hair shimmering in the light as she concentrated on keeping the fog away from them. Legolas pressed his hand against her horse's neck, guiding it after Aragorn and the others. "Is she all right?" Elladan asked Aragorn quietly as they rode forward. "Eiliandel's strength is unusual," Aragorn said slowly, "She will defend us until her life is spent. Only then will her resolve fail and her strength wane." Elladan cast a look back at her. She had her eyes closed as she concentrated, evidently focussing on something he could not see. "Why would she......?" he trailed off. "I don't know what we did to deserve such loyalty, but she holds herself to it." Aragorn answered.

* * *

"Eladrion! Come on, lad!" Eomer smiled at the child as he ran to keep up with Eomer and Nenwen. Eomer had found that the two were far more entertaining than any general or warmaster could ever be. Faramir had taken over that duty and Eomer had decided that he would take the children on a walk through the garden. Eladrion ran up to Eomer proudly handing him a frog that he'd caught. "Well, isn't that nice!" Eomer congratulated him. Eladrion laughed and darted ahead to find more. Eomer bent and let the frog go near the bottom of a bush, quite sure Eladrion would find another. Nenwen stood next to him as she had for the entire walk, clutching a flower in her tiny hand. "What do you have there?" Eomer asked her kindly, realising that she had never spoken to him. "Eirien. "she said softly, offering it to him.
  "Excuse me?" Eomer asked confused. Nenwen's little face showed disappointment. "She doesn't speak the language of men," Eowyn's voice came from ahead of him. Eomer looked at his sister, "She only speaks elvish?" he asked. Eowyn nodded. Eomer looked at the little girl looking sadly up at him, not understanding why he hadn't answered her or taken the flower she held, "Well then!" Eomer sat on a bench and pulled Nenwen up next to him, taking the flower from her hand, "This is a flower. Flower," he pointed to the daisy. "Eirien..." Nenwen said softly pointing to it.
  "Yes, yes, eirien. Flower," Eomer tried again.
  Nenwen looked at him curiously, "Flower," she repeated in a delicate elvish tone.
  "Very good!!!" Eomer gave her a hug. Nenwen smiled, suddenly realizing what he was trying to do.
  She grabbed his hand and led him through the garden, trying to learn as much as she could. Eomer laughed as he followed her.
  "That woman has too much confidence," Talath said to Haradion, "She doesn't answer any questions." Haradion held up a hand, "I will deal with her, you take the majority of our forces and retreat to the other stronghold." Talath made a face, but left, collecting the forces as he went. Haradion signalled to Thurin to follow him, "Come. We must talk to the elvish queen." Thurin bowed his head and willingly followed him. Haradion took a long time to climb the stairs to the room where Arwen was, but once he reached the top, he straightened and pounded on the door. Without waiting for an answer, he simply entered the room. The beautiful elf stood by the window, not even bothering to look at them, her long black hair forming a river down the back of her delicate night-shift. "I heard that you are not co-operating with Talath, my little elf. Now why would that be?" he said in a false tone as Thurin shut the door behind them. Ever regal, Arwen refused to turn to acknowledge him, instead remaining at the window, watching something far in the distance. Haradion's face hardened as she failed to fall for the bait, he stepped towards her, "You do not understand what you are doing, do you?"
  Haradion's voice took on a mocking aspect, "You think you will defeat us by your silence, not so little elf, not so! Your husband and children are still the palace - which, may I add, I control. The wolves, weather and even your abduction were all my doings. I control your family, and I hold you captive. If I were to destroy the city, the palace, your children and your beloved husband, your silence would have done nothing but sentence them to their deaths." Haradion stood directly behind her, waiting for his words to sink in. True to her elvish nature, Arwen's appearance seemed to have remained the same. She still stood at the window, her back still turned, her voice still silent, but Thurin and Haradion sensed a stiffness about her. She had heard his threat towards her family, whether or not she was willing to show it. She thought of Estel and all that they had been through. She thought of Eladrion and his laughter as he ran around the palace. She thought of Neva and her beautiful little face, so trusting that her mother would care for her. Steeling herself, she chose not to respond, her heart thudding in her chest as she did so. "So you choose to kill them?" Haradion said loudly.
  Arwen did not turn to face him, not out of spite, but for the tears running down her face. Haradion turned on his heel, heading for her door, "You shall see what you have chosen, little elf, and you shall regret it!" he informed her as he left, Thurin shutting the door.
  As soon as the door shut, Arwen sank to the floor, tears streaming down her face. She curled up tightly in a ball, resting her forehead on her knees and wrapping her arms around her legs as she cried. Arwen tired to convince herself that Haradion was making empty threats, that he still needed Estel to get what he wanted and that he was merely tormenting her while he could.
  Not trying to stifle her tears, she quietly began to whisper the Lay of Luthien, as Aragorn often did. Her hand rested against where the Evenstar used to hang, slowly regaining her composure with each whispered line. She did not know that on the other side of the door, someone listened, realizing that which he should have acted upon earlier.

Newsletter Trivia.

Q: 'x' axis ... 'y' axis... Oh no, it's math! Who brought it into our humble little newsletter?
Q: Perian needs a sword. She could always borrow mine, but what does she need it for?

Last Issue's Answers: Xara, Issue 18; Live in a fantasy world. Issue 27.

Random Fandom.
Xara: You have just discovered that your best friend is actually a servant of Sauron in disguise, and has been using you to gather information. What is this information, and how did you come to have it? 
Shelly: Well, she obviously wants the location of where I've hidden four certain heroic and rather adorable hobbits. I have, of course, hidden them myself. What my "friend" doesn't know is that I am in fact a fellow servant of the enemy......
Xara: How do you take revenge on your friend/servant of Sauron? 
Shelly: Heh heh heh... I shall torture her with all the footage ever taken of any Bush speech ever made. Then chuck school lunches and poisoned chocolates at her. *smiles sweetly*
Xara: After inviting Aragorn and his drinking buddies Legolas and Gimli over to your house for a casual dinner, you end up in a police cell trying to gather enough money for bail. What happened?! 
Shelly: Not again... you see, "casual dinner" means some cheese blocks and drinking contests. Poor Leggy drank more than he could hold and got sick on my neighbour's dog... stupid elf, Gimli decided to go swimming with naked dwarf women again, then again, they could've been men... you never know about these things, Aragorn went around the neighbourhood trying to ride on the backs random people constantly yelling "PONY, PONY!" And Me? I was found in the supermarket raiding their stocks of fish and talking to myself...

Ask Samwise.
Dear Samwise,
How do you keep food on the table with your ever growing family? And what do you do when the older ones begin bringing their interests home? That is to say... well... how do you find time to spend with Rose, with all the children about?
  An Anonymous Hobbit.
  Dear Anonymous Hobbit,
  Keep food on the table? Well I can see why you're concerned, those youngsters do tend to grab, and they have a nasty habit of getting into food-fights, so normally I nail it all to the table. Stops 'em talking too because they have to be concentrating on eating without fingers, which gives me time to talk with me Rosie. As for the interests, soon as it gets serious enough for them to be bringing them home so to speak, I marry 'em off, which gives me even more time with Rosie! They have to move out! Great plan, don't you think?
Dear Samwise,
You're just too good to be true, can't take my eyes off of you, you'd be like heaven to touch, I wanna hold you so much, at long last love has arrived, and I thank god I'm alive, you're just too good to be true, can't take my eyes off of you...
  Elf Maiden
  Dear Elf Maiden,
  Listen, I don't know who you are, but can you stop sending me letters? I'm in enough trouble with Rosie already. There's many young, handsome, eligible hobbits about the place who I'm sure would be perfectly happy to receive your affections, but I'm not one of them. Sod off!!!

Dear Sam,
Where do carrots come from? And have you spoken to Merry yet? Oh, by the way, Rosie was asking for you. She seemed miffed.


  Dear Ivy,

  Contrary to popular belief carrots cannot be commonly found in the posterior area of a certain Brandybuck. Believe me, I have personal experience in this matter (ahem, though not out of choice, you understand). In truth, carrots come from stalks, great birds that go flying around with sacks full of carrots in their beaks, and if you're a good girl, they'll bury the carrots in your vegetable garden at night. But you mustn't try to watch them do it, or they'll never bring any carrots again. I was going to speak to Merry last Tuesday, but that was the occasion on which I discovered the truth of the carrot rumour (a nasty incident involving itching powder which Pippin had planted in his underwear and a picnic at Bowater) and at the time there was so much excitement I didn't get the chance, and ever since I have rather been avoiding him... it's a sight not easy to remove from your mind, if you understand me. As for Rosie, well, I'll speak to her later... *looks nervous*


LAST MINUTE ANNOUNCEMENT: The i Nili Newsletter needs a slogan. Truthful though the one used above is, it lacks a certain amount of oomph. Flex your bumper-sticker making neurons and send your suggestions to Perian@HotPOP.com by 10 February. Best slogan and two runners up will be rewarded with 5 and 3 contest points, respectively (and we're very respectful of our obligations in that respect). There are only three rules: It cannot be longer than one line (say, twelve words); it must encapsulate the essence of i Nili in that limited space; and it must be funny. Oomph is what I'm looking for. Laugh-out-loud impact. Luck!
NEEDED: More people to participate in a study! Really, it's not that hard... Just write down everything you do/say that is LotR-related in a one week period and send it to luckoftheirish@hotmail.com Thank you!!
WANTED: Heir for my kingdom. Apply in person, and bring ale. I might actually find someone who is worthy of it if I'm not too drunk to care.
VACANCY: Imladris Apartments. All the elves have left these quality suites. Established... well, ages ago. Must be bipedal and of good repute. Price: A small fortune, or mortality, whichever you prefer.
FOUND: Large ornamental war-horn with tar jammed in mouth-piece, locked with pad-lock, chains of lead, iron and titanium in chest at bottom of Khazad-dum. Would the owner please go and claim horn off Peregrin Took, before we all die of frustration...
LOST: The will to do any work whatsoever. If found please send to chill749@msn.com along with the antidote for procrastination. Thankee!

WANTED: The answer to the question: Which LotR hobbit/person/elf/thing has the characteristics of a wet noodle?

LOST: Dominic Monaghan. Believed to be stranded on dessert island growing plump on sticky date pudding and ice cream. If you see him please contact Elijah Wood, Billy Boyd or Sean Astin immediately. Thank you.


Descriptive Elements, Part XII. (Key: q.= Quenya, s. = Sindarin, where known.)

ris-: (verb) cleave, rist: (noun) cleaver. Angrist, Crissaegrim, Imladris, Orcrist.
roch (s.), rokko (q.): (noun) horse. rochallor, Rohan, Rochand, Rohirrim, Roheryn.
rhun: (s., noun) east. Talath Rhunen, amrun.
rond: (noun) vaulted roof. Naragothrond, Hadhodrond, Aglarond, Elrond.

Dear Editor Xara,
  Wonderful issue! Positively wonderful! That article of Padfoot's is my personal favourite of those she has written. Why can't we humans get along? I mean, we're in this together, right? *Poke.* Right!?! Good. What a wonderful reminder. Thank you, Paddy O'.
  Samwise is back! Oh, good. I thought I had lost him. He must be in your keeping, then, Xara? Well, I'm glad he's as wise and witty as ever.
  Looking forward to another issue as a spectator rather than an editor... thank you for the opportunity to experience it like this!
  Dear Perian,
  Why thankye! And you know the problems I had getting it out! But hopefully that experience won't be repeated! Aye, Samwise turned up soon after I took over the newsletter, very upset about Saruman's attempted take-over of the column and full of advice, wise and witty as you say. Well then, I hope you liked this issue, and enjoyed your little break!
  Why thankee Perian! I wish humans would get along, but alas we must wait for the orcies to come ;) 
Dear Perian,
  I thought that the numerology article turned out great Peri-o! Though I will admit I was quite surprised to find that I have the same number as Leggi... I have never been compared to him. Just one little itty bitty thing though FRODO IS NOT PIPPIN'S BETTER HALF!!! Ta!
  Dear EE,
  Thank you so much for the feedback! I haven't had such thorough feedback on an article in an age, I think. I'm glad you liked it. Yes, tall and beautiful people with no need for sleep are surely linked in soul or karma or some other New Agey term I am not familiar with. Or metabolism.
  Ahem, Pippindidn'ttaketheRingtoMordor, ahem, if you say so.
Dear editor,
   Wonderful issue, as always. I loved your article, Xara! 'Twas fantastic! A great spin on the whole "damsel in distress" nonsense. And Paddy's was great! I've liked every article you've written, very insightful. I can't wait for the next issue!
  Dear Shelly,
  I'm glad you liked my article! It just occurred to me that Beren was always the one who needed saving! Luthien really had her work cut out keeping him alive ;) Thanks for your feedback!! Always appreciate it!
  Why thankee shelly! I have lots of fun writing articles. I can't wait for the next issue either!