i Nili o i Ardanole Newsletter:

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


Issue 48, Volume 3, February 18th, 2005.

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

In this issue:
The Lord of the Rings Exhibition by Xara.
Praise for the Mapless by Perian.
LotR Style Rooms by Padfoot.
Professor Tolkien the Talker by Perian.

In every issue:
Fanfiction: This Fortnight: If the Light Should Ever Fade - Part Five by Cerridwen.
Ivy's Newsletter Trivia.
Xara's Random Fandom.
Ask Samwise.
Tolkienish, provided by Perian.

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


The Lord of the Rings Exhibition
By Xara.

  "We set out on our journey at a quarter to eleven, and make our way through the wilderland to Beecroft station. There we shall meet the rest of our company, and take counsel together before catching the train for a forty minute journey to Town Hall station. From there our path turns east to the Powerhouse Museum." The number of our company was six. Our quest, to seek the Powerhouse Museum. Our favourite colour, blue. Yes, it was just this morning, when I and my fellow companions, found and experienced the Lord of the Rings Exhibition!
  We arrived to find, that it was actually quite smaller than we had expected. This is not to say that it was small, our imaginations had led us to believe it would be a colossal sky-scraper filled with every single costume, miniature, prop, shoelace, etc., etc. ever involved in the movies. But still, it was fairly sizeable. There was Frodo's costume, Sam's backpack in both scales, two Arwen dresses, Theoden's armour complete with sword, helmet and boots, Aragorn's costume, Saruman's costume, Gandalf the Grey's costume, Galadriel's dress, Treebeard, Lurtz, a mumakíl, a humongous cave-troll which scared the willies out of me (my attention upon entering the room had been claimed by the sheer bead embroidered whiteness of Galadriel's dress, and, once this wore off, the fact that I was standing beneath a cave troll whose mace was raised above my head began to impose itself upon me), a huge miniature of the mill at Hobbiton from Frodo's vision in the mirror, Isengard, Barad-dur, Sauron, the witch-king, and, most freaky of all, Boromir in his funeral boat.
  And of course, what Lord of the Rings Exhibition would be complete without The Ring? It was situated alone in a large room, disproportionate to it's size, dark except for the fiery red letters white roved the circular walls (I tried to position myself in front of these lights and mimic the famous scene in Fellowship of the Ring where on Frodo's face appears the glow of the ring's inscription, but was blinded and had to retreat), and filled with whispers of, "My precious," and "The ring was entrusted to me," and "The ring must be destroyed," and "I dare not take it," etc., etc.
  We all had our pet favourite parts. Myself I was most fascinated by Aragorn's costume (surprisingly, it had a strange pull on me), Boromir's funeral boat, complete with life-sized and very, very lifelike Boromir, and a collection of Rohan horns. Various fantasies involving horns, the blowing of them over the neighbours fence at the crack of dawn, and the possibilities involving horns and other people's ears ensued. Unfortunately when we arrived at the gift shop, I found no horn, but perhaps that is just as well.
  It was generally agreed by all that we should have tried to sneak a camera in. Or perhaps two. Or three. In the end, we decided, the wisest course of action would have been to go dressed as Gandalf the Grey, conceal a video camera beneath the hat, a normal camera in the staff, a digital camera with a live video feed to the internet strapped across the stomach and various infra-red cameras attached to the soles of the shoes, which would be surreptitiously stuck to the walls so as to provide continuous video feed after leaving.
  Conversation then moved towards ways of stealing actual objects on display, and we soon realized that it would simply be easier if we stole the entire building. All that would be required was a convoy of sturdy trucks and the world's largest chainsaw. Needless to say, we stole nothing, though a Last Alliance Elven Spear which, unlike most of the items displayed, was not behind glass did pose serious temptation.
  Our perusal of the exhibition was then followed by the infiltration of the children's Shire-themed play area, the entrance to which was a hobbit-hole door, hobbit-sized. However, once we discovered that if you rang the bell the door opened (our excitement about this fact quelled when we discovered there was a girl crouched on the other side opening it) we crawled in, took our hobbit-name tags (I became the aptly named Adaldrida Worrywort) and found, to our disappointment, that it really wasn't all that exciting.
  Our visit over, we turned homeward with heavy hearts and many a backward glance. The Lord of the Rings Exhibition. We saw it, and it was grand.

Praise for the Mapless
by Perian.
  At the time of writing I am recovering from the Quest of the Ring, squished into a single day. All right, no rings were involved. Nor elves, so don't get excited. No, I sojourned across a single city, and a relatively small one at that; namely, Wellington, New Zealand. After about half an hour I had no sense of direction left, save a fan's instinct of in which the distant WETA lay. Street signs in this city are not placed for pedestrian use - unless, of course, they have a secret desire to see pedestrians swiftly squished by public transportation vehicles as they wander out into the road to discover which road it happens to be. People have that very attitude toward cyclists where I last lived. Bipedal carrion. But I digress.
  While following my directional instincts I had a profound revelation: if you're right handed you tend to make random right turns. This leads to a phenomena known in all quest-style stories as "going in circles". My inner Samwise had to explain this to me, as I, being dyslexic, would never have figured it out on my own. My inner Samwise then turned to my inner Frodo and whispered "Let's face it, Mr. Frodo, we're lost. I don't think Gandalf meant for us to come this way." This then provoked an image of Gandalf striding determinedly down the pavement, past the Two Dollar Store and the women's swimsuit shops, causing me to laugh aloud and be given sidelong glances from my fellow walkers.
  I pulled out my map and found my way, made my purchases, and began to climb up the Emyn Mu- er, the Wellington hills once more. As I lugged my portable oven and two bags of groceries back, stopping about once per block to check my map, my heart went out to Frodo and especially Sam. I had food enough with me for two weeks at most. He had to carry supplies and cooking gear enough for months. Moreover and most importantly, they did not have a map. Yes, yes, I know, Gollum did lead them through the trickiest bits; from the base of Emyn Muil to Cirith Ungol. But it's not as though that were the only place where one (or two) could get lost. The forests of Ithilien didn't have guideposts saying "trail through, this way, 4.7 leagues". The roads through Gogoroth didn't exactly declare "To the Cracks of Doom" or "Danger, sharp, pointy needles below!"; and I'm sure that nowhere in Hollin was there a small wooden placard nailed to a tree with the information "Species: Poison Oak. Touching not recommended." It's things like this we take for granted, though life would probably be much more interesting without them.
  The hobbits were not only lacking in friendly reminders to keep off the grass (though they did run out of it soon enough) ... they were lacking in everything but the vague idea that they must go East to Mordor (at a time in which the Sun was quite thoroughly veiled), a glance at a map back in Rivendell, their own wits, a few frying pans, and enough personality to fill the Sundering Seas. Oh, and a small box of dirt. And a password protected flashlight. And a few other things, but you get the basic point: They didn't have a map. Even so, with the odds at about a multiverse's quantity of gas fumes to one (and one with no map!) they made it.
  The next time you lose yourself in the massive labyrinth we call life, don't be discouraged. You could be a lot worse off. Think of those two little hobbits, without even the illustration at the front of the books to guide them. Then head due East.

LotR Style Rooms
By Padfoot.

  Have you ever sat down on your bed and felt a sense of boringness? Have you remodelled your room and felt well about it but afterwards felt the same boringness? I know I have. I've spent over a month remodelling my room. I moved the bed around, I moved my bookshelf, and I even replaced all my pictures on the wall and changed the theme. It went well for a while but recently I felt the boringness again and I didn't know what to do. But as I watched Lord of the Rings for the 50th time I had some ideas. Why not make your rooms with a LotR theme? Now I'm not just talking about the many LotR pictures
plastered all across the room I'm talking about an actual theme. The Shire, Minas Tirith, Fangorn, Shelob's lair, Mordor, you get the picture right? Wouldn't that be exciting? To have a room that's, let's say, Bag End? It would never be boring to walk into your room ever again. But how would you decide which theme to use for your room? Well first let's look at what in LotR do you like.
  After all, this is your room and it doesn't have to please anyone but yourself. I chose, of course, and evil theme. But I couldn't decide what, so I laid down different ideas in a notebook. Just remember that when you do chose a theme you'll have to figure out what to do with it. Like what objects will go in throughout your room. After much consideration I chose a 'Shelob's lair' theme. So again with my notebook I wrote down everything I could possibly do in my room to add to that theme. What I eventually did was cut many pieces of yarn and strung them across the room in a web shape fashion. I then hug little stuffed animals of birds that I had inside the strings. I am working on making a version of Sting and putting that in the web to. I also decided to make a large cardboard cut-out of Shelob to stick on the ceiling as well. My room no longer feels boring. Here are some ideas I came up with for different themes that you could use. Most of the objects you could use for your room can be found around the house or in a dollar store.
  The Shire (including Bag End and such)- I had thought about doing something with the Shire but did not think it would fit my identity, even though I am a hobbit my room would not fit with a Shire theme. But some possible things to do would on be on your door in the center make a fake doorknob, and try to hide your real doorknob. I'm guessing it would look mighty spiffy and give it more of a Shire sense. Another thing you could do would be to put plants up in your room. You could also spray some country breeze air deodorant to give it that fresh feeling. If you really want to make it like Bag End and if you have the room a possible suggestion would be to construct a fake fireplace for the corner of your room complete with a mantle where you could place your Lord of the Rings books. In the fireplace you could put a copy of the one ring. There are so many other things you could do for Bag End or the Shire, the more creative the better!
   Rohan- Here is some suggestions for turning your room into Rohan. On the door you could put the flag of Rohan. On entry to your room you could put many things of horses around the room. And if you really want to make it look great you could construct a miniature of Helms Deep for the corner, and maybe make it so that if you want to be alone you could hide behind it. Because as you know, it is hard to break into the Hornburg. Except of course if you have dynamite to break through the drain.
  Fangorn- Here is some suggestions for turning your room into Fangorn. You could decorate your door in such a manor that it has tree branches and leaves and maybe a few eyes. Your room could have green strings of yarn hanging about every which way in your room as well. Maybe you could even draw trees with eyes as well! 
  I hope these suggestions helped, I know that when I turned my room into Shelob's lair I now feel much better about my room. And I beat my fear of spiders. Happy decorating!

Professor Tolkien the Talker
By Xara.

  Tolkien has been hailed by some as a genius, by others a doddering old fool, the creator of the world's greatest works of literature by his fans and the most horrendously verbose man in history by his critics. Countless interpretations of his works have been put forward over the fifty or so years they have been in print. Countless biographies, articles, essays, encyclopaedias to name a very few, about him and his works have been made. But what did the Professor himself have to say on the matter? As it happens, old Tolkien was actually quite a talker. It has been reported that many of his students at Oxford made a game of seeing for how long they could keep their lecturer distracted from his subject, he would get so distracted with his ramblings about elves, goblins, hobbits and such like.
  So today let's hear no more interpretations of Tolkien, I know I can't talk there, having made many myself (and I'd be the first to point out that not all of them are to be taken entirely seriously). And I'm not going to talk. Instead I'm going to give you a selection of Tolkien himself:

  "I object to the contemporary trend in criticism, with it's excessive interest in the details of the lives of authors and artists. They only distract attention from an author's works...only one's Guardian Angel or indeed God himself, could unravel the real relationship between personal facts and an author's works. Not [even] the author himself..."

  "But I cannot understand how I should be labelled 'a believer in moral didacticism'. Who by? It is in any case the exact opposite of my procedure in The Lord of the Rings. I neither preach nor teach." (Didacticism - to morally instruct)

  "Nearly all marriages, even happy ones, are mistakes: in the sense that almost certainly (in a more perfect world, or even with a little more care in this very imperfect one) both partners might be found more suitable mates. But the real soul-mate is the one you are actually married to."

  "Middle-earth is our world. I have (of course) placed the action in a purely imaginary (though not wholly impossible) period of antiquity, in which the shape of the continental masses was different."

  "There was a willow hanging over the mill-pool and I learned to climb it. It belonged to a butcher on the Stratford Road, I think. One day they cut it down. They didn't do anything with it: the log just lay there. I never forgot that."

  "Literature shrivels in a universal language, and an uprooted language rots before it dies. And it should be possible to lift the eyes above the cant of the 'language of Shakespeare'...sufficiently to realize the magnitude of the loss to humanity that the world-dominance of any one language now spoken would entail: no language has ever possessed but a small fraction of the varied excellences of human speech, and each language represents a different vision of life..."

  "If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world."

  "I cordially dislike allegory in all its manifestations, and always have done so since I grew old and wary enough to detect its presence. I much prefer history, true or feigned, with its varied applicability to the thought and experience of the reader. I think that many confuse 'applicability' with 'allegory'; but the one resides in the freedom of the reader, and the other in the purposed domination of the author."

  "Charge 'em and they scatter!" - Referring to car-driving

  "What really happens is that the story-maker proves a successful 'sub-creator'. He makes a Secondary World which your mind can enter. Inside it, what he relates is 'true': it accords with the laws of that world. You therefore believe it, while you are, as it were, inside. The moment disbelief arises, the spell is broken; the magic, or rather art, has failed. You are then out in the Primary World again, looking at the little abortive Secondary World from outside."

  "I am dreading the publication, for it will be impossible not to mind what is said. I have exposed my heart to be shot at."

  "I am not a 'democrat', if only because 'humility' and equality are spiritual principles corrupted by the attempt to mechanize and formalize them, with the result that we get not universal smallness and humility, but universal greatness and pride, till some Orc gets hold of a ring of power--and then we get and are getting slavery."

  "Her hair was raven, her skin clear, her eyes bright, and she could sing--and dance." - Talking about Edith Tolkien.


Tolkien and the Great War by John Garth

Tolkien: A Biography by Michael White





A Warped Weave of Magic: Terry Pratchett's Sorcery
Review by Perian.

  All right, it isn't his best selling book. It isn't his most critically acclaimed. Frankly, as I read it over a month ago, I've probably forgotten nearly all of it. All things considered, I personally loved this book. Once again Pratchett has proven himself a master. Have I mentioned he does everything for fantasy which Douglas Adams does for science fiction and crime fiction? He does, in my opinion at least. This time he outdid himself, again.
  Rincewind is a wizard. Don't question it - it's even on his hat. Coin, on the other hand, is a sorcerer. The difference? Well, a sorcerer is what comes of allowing wizards to procreate, and their power is manifold their predecessors'... and contemporaries'. So, what happens when a pre-teen is given power like this? Let's just say it is not boring, much to Rincewind's dismay. 
  Once again, a laugh-out-loud fantasy with a ending which feels as complete as those of most tales in the genre (excluding Tolkien's) do not. Highly recommended, just like the rest of his books. Come on, try one!

  Have you read a good book lately? Would you like to praise it without restriction? E-mail your review to Perian@HotPOP.com!

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

  "That is not the way to Talath's city," Aragorn informed Meluiwen as she pointed out more tracks, "We must have been following the wrong path," his shoulders slumped as he said this. "I think you are mistaken," Elladan said, "There has been nothing but rain and storms since before Neva was born, all the tracks would have been eradicated in those storms. These are relatively new, only slightly damaged by the storms, and there is nothing to say that Talath took her to a different stronghold of his." Elrohir nodded as his brother finished his thoughts. Meluiwen and Ciryawen looked to Eiliandel and Legolas to give their opinions. Eiliandel had grown tried of riding, apparently the strain of moving air to where she wished it was not as great as they had thought, and she spoke up, "We should follow the tracks Meluiwen found, Elladan is right, no tracks from before the storms would have survived this long," she looked at Aragorn, "We will find her. Do not let your love sway your knowledge." Aragorn got a mildly flustered look as she gently chastised him, letting him know that she understood all too well what he was dealing with. Nodding his head, he acknowledged Eiliandel's decision, "Meluiwen, Ciryawen, if you would please......" he indicated the tracks. The two came forward and began leading again, their sharp elvish eyes picking out the tracks. Aragorn fell back to walk beside Legolas, " The fog is getting thicker and closer, does Eiliandel need a rest?" he asked quietly.
  Legolas shook his head, "She said earlier that it was getting thicker and that there was nothing she could do about it. She suggested we prepare to travel under full cover of the fog. We have the means to defend ourselves from the wolves, and it would give her the opportunity to recover enough strength to battle Talath should we meet him." Aragorn took all this in, nodding as he saw her wisdom of the situation, "Everyone, I suggest you get back on your horse - Eiliandel, you may stop holding the fog back." Aragorn issued. Eiliandel waited until everyone was on top of their horses and armed before she let the fog come back. Instantly everything looked different.
  Where there had been the shades of colour brought out by the sun was now a dull grey colour, blurred and depressing. "Be on watch for the wolves!" Legolas's warning rang out. Aragorn heard the familiar wisp of metal on material as swords were drawn, the distinctive sound of a bow being pulled to accommodate an arrow and the quiet murmuring of the others as they began to watch the fog, waiting for any unknown shapes to present themselves.
  "Novrion? You daughter has something to tell you!" Eomer entered the room with Nenwen dancing along behind him. Eowyn looked up from rocking Neva to sleep and Novrion turned from looking at the frog that Eladrion had brought in from the garden. "Nenwen? What have you to say?" Novrion held his arms out to her. She held out a daisy, "Flower!" she said happily. Novrion smiled at her and Eowyn looked up in shock, "What did she.......?" Eowyn suddenly remembered talking to them in the garden. She had left just as they'd sat on a bench. Eomer must have been teaching her the language of men. "Good job!" Novrion praised her as he gave her a hug. Nenwen handed him the flower and darted off the play with Eladrion. Novrion looked to Eomer, "Thank you so much for teaching her that! Eiliandel and I didn't see much of a reason to teach her the language of men, but know I'm beginning to think we made a mistake." Eomer smiled at the elf, "Don't worry! Learning another language is not that hard at her age! She'll catch on fast! You didn't make a mistake, you and Eiliandel don't speak the language of men unless you have to, so you made the right decision!" Novrion seemed a bit relieved as he turned back to watching Nenwen and Eladrion play.

  Haradion looked distinctly angry as he left Arwen's room. Thurin snapped to attention as the wizard passed. He had been in there yelling at the elvish woman for the past several hours. Thurin had heard him slap her across the face at least four times. Now Haradion was stalking around the lower levels of the stronghold and there were sounds of gentle sobs coming for the elf's room. Thruin couldn't take it anymore, and grabbed his cloak and went into her room. The lovely queen was lying on her bed, crying such mournful sobs that Thurin was close to tears himself. She turned as he entered. "My lady?" Thurin asked softly. She threw her arms in front of her face as defence and pulled back, away from him. Thurin held up his hands, "I mean you no harm! I am not here to hurt you!" he pleaded quietly, not wanting to attract attention. Arwen looked at him. He held his cloak out, "Here. Take it. It is supposed to be very cold tonight." Arwen reached out slowly and took it. "Come on! Let's......." Thurin extended his hand to her, but Haradion's voice rang out "THURIN! Come here!" Thurin looked to the sad woman, "Sorry! I will be back with help!" he promised her as he ran from her room, shutting the door softly behind him. Arwen curled up in the cloak, stifling her sobs in the folds of Thurin's cloak.
  "M'lord!" Thurin bowed before Haradion. "Thurin! My spell over the White City is failing. Go and see if you can find that meddling enchantress!" Haradion ordered.
  "Yes, m'lord." Thurin hurried off to do his master's bidding, pleased to have an excuse to leave Haradion's stronghold. Briefly he worried about Arwen, but consoled himself with the knowledge that he was being sent to the very city her husband ruled.

* * *

  "Shh," Eowyn rocked Neva, wishing that Arwen or Aragorn were there to take their daughter. Neva had been upset all afternoon and it had only gotten worse as the night began.
  "Eowyn?" Novrion appeared in the doorway, "The fog is thickening around the city, but Eiliandel's defences are holding. I thought you may wish to know."
  Eowyn nodded, "Thank you." she turned back to rocking Neva. "Do you need some help?" Novrion inquired.
  "No, no, I just......." Eowyn looked at Neva.
  "Here, let me take her. Go look at the fog and rest for a while." Novrion took the baby, murmuring soothing elvish words. Neva quieted down almost instantly.
  "How did you.....?" Eowyn stared at him.
  "Nenwen had trouble sleeping for a while too, Eiliandel used to sing to her in elvish." Novrion explained. Eowyn nodded and left, going to look at the fog and rest as Novrion had suggested.


  "Behind you!" Legolas whipped around, notching an arrow as he did so, heeding Meluiwen's warning. He easily shot the lunging form of a wolf, picking him out of the fog.
  "How much farther you think?" Elrohir asked. They had stopped for a much needed rest, pulling close to the base of the trees. Legolas, Meluiwen and Ciryawen were on watch, letting Aragorn, Eiliandel and the twins rest.
  "Behind you! To the left!" Ciryawen informed him. Legolas aimed at the dark form lurking in the fog. Suddenly he stopped as he recognized the form as that of a horse and rider. Meluiwen and Ciryawen darted forward, hidden in the fog, and quickly overwhelmed the rider, pulling him to the ground.

  "Why will you not answer me?" Haradion shook Arwen. She held her hands up in a gesture of defence, offering him no answer. In frustration, he smacked her across her delicate face as hard as he could. She fell to the floor, fast losing consciousness and offering no defence for herself as he kicked her aside to leave. Her world faded to black.

Newsletter Trivia.

  We've jogged your long term memory... how's your short term? First, scroll down until "Newsletter Trivia" is at the top of your page. Without scrolling up, name five original (not Tolkien-created) characters from Cerridwen's If the Light Should Ever Fade.

  Last issue's answers: Rob, Issue 32; To chop up a LotR ban to 'itty bitty pieces', Issue 38.

Random Fandom.

Xara: You are walking along, minding your business when suddenly you are molested by a gang of hobbits wielding elven rope and saying that if you don't give them all your fish they will tie it to your ankle and laugh! Oh the cruelty of it! You must get away with your fish, but how?
Smeagol: Ahh noo! This cannot happen! This must not happen! I will use the only good weapon I learned from Bilbo Baggins, the CONFUSING PHRASE! I will tell them that I don't know half of them half as well as I should like and I like less than half of them half as well as they deserve. Provided they haven't figured this thing out already I will run away with my fish as they are scratching their heads confusedly. Then I will go wash my mouth out for using a dreaded Bilbo phrase.
Xara: You are currently tied up in a sack which is hanging from a tree. How did you get there?
Smeagol: Ah, the art of escapology my friend! I was bored one day so I decided to see if I could do a Houdini... I tied myself up in a sack and then got a random hobbit to tie me to a tree and time 5 minutes to see if I could get out of it. Unfortunately I've not quite mastered the art... I've been stuck here about *checks watch* 20 days or so...
  I'm hungry.
Xara: You've been going out with a giant flesh-eating spider for about a month now, but are finding it's legs rather off-putting. You decide to break it off, but how are you going to tell him without being killed?
Smeagol: Listen, I really hate myself for telling you this and I still want to be friends... it's just been getting a bit awkward with you poking me in the eye and stuff, I'm really sorry and I will feed you any hobbits that you want in the future... anyway I have been seeing a Vala called Námo for about a year, and there's no point in killing me 'cause I'll only go to him and be brought back... bye! *runs away* Yes, Shelob is a male spider, and that's how I REALLY promised him to bring him any hobbits he wanted to eat!

Ask Samwise.

  Dear Samwise,
  How is it that you know so much about carrots? Is there something you're not telling everyone?
  Dear Xara,
  Why, did you never here? We Gamgees are an authority on roots! My old Gaffer invented carrots, and that's a fact.They weren't natural before that, oh, no. And before that it was one of my ancestors who brought over the first roots from away off wherever it is we came from. The Gaffer says so.

  Dear Samwise,
  What do you get for a wedding present for a brother? The wedding is seven months away but I want to get him something expensive and cool. Any ideas?

  Dear Fan,
  Having two brothers myself, both married, I can tell you exactly what he'll like for a wedding present: socks, and plenty of them. Now, I know what you're wondering, "But hobbits don't wear shoes," and you'd be right, so I'll tell you why they're needed. When a fellow gets married he has to make a few changes, and sharing a bed with the new missus is one of them. Now, these she-hobbits, though they are very lovely, tend to hog the quilt, and so a hobbit, or man, finds himself waking in the middle of the night with cold feet, as she's pulled the quilt over to her side of the bed. That's when the socks come in handy.
  But, if you want to go for something a bit more expensive and homey, I'd suggest a nice camera for them to take photos of each other, or a bread-maker. Or a chef's hat. Good luck!

  Dear Sam,
  I can see you still haven't spoken to Merry. Just so you know I have a torch and a pitchfork and I'm not afraid to sneak down to your hobbit-hole in the middle of the night and use them! *Poke.* Now get talking!

  Dear Ivy,
  Yes, Lady! Straight away! *Runs.*


FOR SALE: Super-sonic jet-powered extreme orc-killing skillet. It's taking up space in my cupboard. Please contact xara229@hotmail.com for details.

WANTED: Some inspiration for my story...if you happen to find something please tell me.

NOTICE: Xara, co-editor of the newsletter wishes it to be known that her email address has changed to hobbitsinskirts@gmail.com, and that anyone wishing to contact her will find her most eager to reply from that address from now on. She further wishes to add her feelings about Hotmail and their inconsiderate and highly disruptive treatment of her, but thinks it is perhaps better not to, and will say merely that they should all be eaten alive by a giant haggis monster. Thank you.
FOUND: Someone's sanity. If it's yours will you please tell me, I need to get rid of it fast so as to get back to my insane life.

NEEDED: People to participate in a study... still. Really, it's not so hard. Just document everything LotR-related you say/do in a one week period, and send it to luckoftheirish@hotmail.com It's important, I promise.

WANTED: Cute little hobbit that looks a lot like Dominic Monaghan and isn't afraid to run out on a dark and stormy night to get me chocolate. If you have one, I'll pay good money.


Descriptive Elements, Part XIII. (Key: q.= Quenya, s. = Sindarin, where known.)
ros: (noun) foam, spindrift, spray. Celebros, Elros, Rauros, Cair Andros.
sereg: (s., noun.) blood. Seregon.
sil, thil: (verb) shine with silver or white light. Belthil, Galathilion, Silpion.
sul: (noun) wind. Amon Sul, Sulimo, sulime.


  Dear Editor,
  Welcome back! Hope you're settling back into the top job ok. Tell me, does your computer stuff up every time you try to send the newsletter out? Because mine did...
  Dear Xara,
  Thank you very much! I'm most enjoying my return, but also enjoyed my time away. It was quite interesting, not knowing what would turn up in the newsletter! Do others experience the same eager anticipation and trepidation I do while waiting for it? I wonder. Just a note to subscribers who may not have noticed, I, like Xara, have a new e-mail address (what are these e-mail servers going through right now?): Perian@HotPOP.com.
  I want to thank all of our staff, who worked tirelessly on the past few issues, as they always do. Your devotion to this newsletter awes me. I'll find a way to repay you all someday. Come on, subscribers! These people take hours and days out of their busy lives to bring this to you, with no immediate reward. In fact, as you see, they more often get criticism and computer problems for their efforts. What say we give them a nice round of applause, eh? Thanks! And once again, my deepest appreciation goes out to you, Xara, and to all those who work both up front and behind the scenes (more work goes into this newsletter than it looks like) ... THANK YOU.
  May public appreciation of Tolkien's work live on forever, and may we be here a good long time to give it a nudge.

  Dear Xarie,
  Get your story straight! One article your saying Pippin is a pilferer and the next your saying he's a prince! For quite a while I could not decide what to do; kill you, or say thanks!  So I found a median, both. *Kills Xarie and then brings her back to life with ring* So, how was it?
  [*Flushes with rage.* I would reply to that one, but it's not addressed to me, so I'll leave it to the more articulate Xara...

  Dear EE,
  I first have to register my extreme offense at the way in which you chose to draft your letter. I thought this was incredibly rude, especially as I had to go to great lengths to include your article in that issue at all as it was submitted after the deadline. I'd appreciate it in future if you did not greet me with hostile orders made under the assumption that I am yours to command.
    However, yours was a fair observation, so let me explain my reasons for writing the article which seemed to cause you such offense. I knew we would be getting many articles praising the little hobbit, and there's nothing wrong with that, but I thought one criticizing him would add some variety. As for the article about him being a prince, did I change my tune? Who is to say that I approved of him? To say that someone is a prince isn't necessarily to say they are wonderful. After all, royalty are often criticized by the public. I don't think that I was sending mixed messages by writing that article.
    I appreciate your feedback, but not the manner in which you chose to express your opinion. I might remind you that the article I wrote, for which you seem to wish me dead, was also a matter of opinion which I, like you, had every right to express. I'd appreciate it if you didn't try to kill me in future, thank you.

  Dear [E]ditor*,
  I would like to say that this newsletter is another job well done. I also want to say that I love the theme for it too.  Xara; I love your articles about Pippin's 'royal' blood and about the differences between the Pip that we see in the book vs. Pippin in the movies. Perian; I loved reading about Pip's place in the fellowship and about him in Minas Tirith. EE; your article was awesome and quite humourous I think. Paddy; even though I'm against eating hobbits I loved you article, it's very true to your style I think. Ivy; the way that you wrote those two sides of Pippin was very interesting to read, I loved it.

 Hey Fan!
 Thanks so much for your comments! Hehe, Pippin's royal blood was always a pet theory of mine, so the Pippin issue was my chance to get it out to the world. It's always good to hear from the subscribers so thank you for writing in!

  Thankee Fan! Anything about hobbits wouldn't be my style if it didn't involve eating them.
  [*No, it is not self-aggrandizement. I'm simply pedantic. -Ed.]