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Да знаете какви бижута открих...
The Lord of the Blue Rings by David Eddings
Belrond lounged indolently back in his chair, scratching at his formal purple robe in mild irritation. "Why do I have to wear this thing, anyway?"
Arwen smirked at him. "I think it helps them to think of you as somewhat respectable, Old Wolf. Frodo, if you don't stop playing with it, it will never leave you alone."
Frodo looked up from the glowing blue ring in his lap. "But it keeps singing to me. Why's it doing that?" Belrond and Arwen exchanged a glance. "It does that to everyone, Frodo. Now, put it back in your pouch and let's go. I'm sure the council is about to start."
As if on cue, Legolas entered, bowing deeply. "Ancient and Beloved, Lady Arwen, the kings have assembled and await thy presence." Rolling his eyes, Belrond lead them down the hallway towards the council chamber. Frodo stared at the rich tapestries and columns of pure white marble, thinking how a few months ago, he had been living in a simple hobbit-hole, and Aunt Arwen was just Aunt Arwen and not someone to be treated with respect by kings.
As they rounded a corner, Belrond was nearly floored by a dirty fist. Legolas watching in disbelief, Belrond wrestled his assailant to the ground, each of them letting out a stream of curses that curled Frodo's ears. Finally, they separated, and Belrond cursed again, muttering "What's got into that ratty excuse for a head on your shoulders, Gandalf?"
His opponent, a hairy, misshapen fellow clad in grimy grey robes, glared back. "That's for sending me to Saruman's tower on a fool's errand, Belrond. The old goat sat me on his roof for three months. I'm lucky he lost concentration and let me shift into falcon form before I started getting too hungry." With a belch, he turned his attention to Arwen. "You're getting fat, Arwen. Aragorn finally knock you up, or you just letting yourself go?"
Legolas gasped, but Arwen regarded the ugly wizard calmly. "When's the last time you took a bath, Gandalf?"
Gandalf shrugged negligently, scratching himself "I think a storm rained on me a couple years ago, while I was watching Kal Sauron's tomb."
"Frodo Baggins and the One Ring" by JK Rowling
("Frodo Baggins and the Knarliest Ring" in the USA)
by Shalmanese
Frodo crept down the stairs of the of the castle, his invisible cloak sweeping around his legs. He simply had to get the ring into Professor Saurons office without attracting attention. The castle was quite and he made his way without difficulty. A faint light was glowing from under the Professors door but nobody appeared to be in the office. Sneaking in quietly, he saw the volcano on the ledge bubbling quietly. He was just about to throw this ring into the fiery chasm when the door burst open and the Professor strode in. Not having time to think, Frodo Potter froze on the spot, grateful for being invisible.
Professor Sauron wasn't the only person who entered the room however. A massive hulking glowing monster had also ambled in alongside him and they were now deep in a conversation. Frodo froze, although he had never met one of those before, he had heard about it enough times to know that the thing standing in front of him was a Balrog!
"I want you to send a message to Professor Saruman, Tell him that I am prepared to join forces so that we can both live our lives without worrying about prying eyes. Fly swiftly for I need the message soon"
"But I dont have no wings" said the Balrog dumbly
"Use a broomstick you fool" snarled professor Sauron and swiftly left the classroom.
So it was true thought Frodo Potter, Sauron wan't to get rid of him and he was willing to enlist the help of Saruman to do it. He had to tell his friends Pippin and Merrione, they would know what to do.
"striding out of the classroom as fast as he could, he turned down a corridor without looking and a giant flash of green light blinded him. The scar on his forehead was now excruciating with pain. The last thing he saw before he blacked out was the figure of Elrond laughing madly.
Frodo gradually became aware that he was now lying in a bed. Trying to get up, he heard a gently voice in his ear.
"Ah, Frodo, it seems we are up and about already", it was the gentle voice of Headmaster Gandalf.
"I suppose you want to know what happened last night, It turns out that your last Defense against Dark Arts teacher wasn't really Elrond at all but was actually Lord Melkor's minion, Smeagol. You see, nobody actually knew what Elrond looked like before he came to HobbitWarts becuase he kept to himself. When Smeagol arrived, we all assumed it was Elrond. Quite unfortunate really."
"But I saw Professor Sauron with that Balrog, he was talking about removing those prying eyes"
"Yes, Sauron was one of the first suspect something about Smeagol, it was all those potions full of rotten fish that gave it away he said. He knew he couldn't tackle Smeagol alone so he enlisted the help of Saruman. He was the one who found you unconcious"
"You mean... Sauron is innocent?" stammered Frodo
"Yes you fool of a Took! I've been trying to tell you that for the last 4 years" snapped Gandalf rather angrily "Now get some rest so we can send you home to your awful Uncle Bilbo."
"The Lord of the Rings" Book One of "The Wheel of Time" by Robert Jordan
by Eöl
The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the Third Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose in the Bay of Belfalas. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was a beginning.
North the wind blew across the land of Gondor, where men farmed their fields, and thought of better times and of the glory of the old days. They knew little of the lands beyond their borders, but trusted in their traditions, as they always had.
Onward the wind blew across the White Mountains into the lands of the Rohirrim, proud horse people of the plains whose allies in these dark times were wearing thin. Grim faced and stiff backed they rode on despite the threat of war and a weakling king upon their throne, the leader of this particular band being outcast and abandoned. But still he had followers, his numbers increasing daily.
Westward the wind drove, towards the gap of Isen, where evil men dwelled, rough barbarians called Dunlendings who had no love for their neighbours. Neither pillaging nor burning quenched their thirst for blood.
Westward, now whirling north, west and north over the vast plains of Eriador into the tangled forest called the Old Forest and the Shire.
Whirling towards the village Hobbiton, it tugged at the clothes of a small creature. No taller than a child, Frodo Baggins sat reading an old book as the wind closed it. By now it had become a pleasant wind, tickling his toes and playing in his hair. The young hobbit laughed aloud and wished the day would never end. As he put the book down, he heard something off in the distance, not unlike the song his uncle used to sing when he thought Frodo was not nearbly, but with an unearthly feel to it...
'The Eye of the Ring', dear ol' Robert Jordan:
"Woolheaded man!" sniffed Arwen, folding her arms beneath her breasts, then unfolding them again so she could tug on her braid.
Aragorn grimaced. If only Legolas were there. Legolas always knew how to talk to girls.
[etc. The story trundles on with all the pace of an Ent dinner party. Frodo gets laid. The Dark One resurrects all his clearly inept lieutenants every few books (endless franchise potential!). And *still* no-one can give a definitive answer on who killed Asmodean. sigh... ]
The Godfather
by antPhoenix
"Saruman, you are a powerful man with powerful friends. You are a man to be respected. And so it is on this day that I come to you, in friendship, with all respect, to seek your council.
You see, my young friend, Frodo, he has a problem."
Saruman nodded understandingly.
"He has this ring, a beautiful ring, but I feel it is an evil ring."
Saruman sipped his wine, stroked his chin, and began to speak.
"And you want it destroyed?"
"Yes, yes! You understand everything. Can you help me, my oldest and most trusted friend?"
"This, I cannot do --"
"Saruman --"
"Now you understand, it makes no difference to me what a man does with his belongings, or his time, unless they should conflict with my own. Join me, Gandalf. And if an honest man such as yourself should have enemies, then they would become my enemies, and then they would fear you."
"Saruman, i knew you as a mean of integrity, a man of wisdom, but most of all a man of reason."
"Gandalf.. you're nothing to me now, not a wizard, not a friend. You broke my heart, Gandalf."
***
Frodo Baggins sat at the Prancing Pony tavern sipping on his ale. Suddenly a moth flew to him and landed on his lap. He asked Strider what it meant.
"It is an old Wizard message; It means Gandalf the Grey sleeps with the eagles."
Fronan and the Ring of Power, (with apologies to Robert E. Howard, and JRR)
by outlawmws
"And know O Prince that in the third age of Middle Earth there was a warrior that opposed the most powerful rulers of the lands, his name was Fronan, a barbarian from the Northern Shire…"
Fronan stood quietly in the shadows of the high rock wall. His barbarian senses told him something was out there, stalking him. His companions, three civilized hobbits, knew nothing of what his keen senses told him. Creeping in on them were five of the Nazgul, shadowy wraiths from Mordor. They were the remains of men, neither living, nor dead. Fronan had seen them before, but never fought them. This time would be different. The silent shadows were moving. Or was it the clouds and moon?
Suddenly, with blood curdling shrieks, they were on them! Five pale shadows flickering in the deeper darkness! Fronan, knowing they were outnumbered, reached in his pouch for the ring. It was supposed to be imbued with power, he would try to tap it. Slipping it on he suddenly could see with amazing clarity and he attacked the wraiths in a frenzied burst of swordplay, whirling though the melee, he reeled out of it with his armor in tatters and a wound in his shoulder. His companions were separated from him and he was on his own. Placing his back against a rock wall of granite, he asked through gritted teeth, "who dies first?"
Kakvo 6te kagete?
Dobroto e v teb. Potursi go!
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Ако някой друг писател беше написал Властелина...
Ако някой друг писател беше написал Властелина...
