Article: 206731 of rec.arts.books.tolkien Path: uchinews!newsfeed.stanford.edu!newsfeed.berkeley.edu!netnews.com!feed1.news.rcn.net!rcn!news.mindspring.net!newsfeed.mindspring.net!firehose.mindspring.com!not-for-mail From: "O. Sharp" <<>> Newsgroups: rec.arts.books.tolkien Subject: Book One (was: Text Files of LOTR) Date: 6 May 2000 19:48:27 GMT Organization: Perhaps Steuard Would Like Chapter Three? Lines: 203 Message-ID: <8f1sub$aqe$1@nntp9.atl.mindspring.net> References: <8es42o$39l$1@nnrp1.deja.com> <8es6j9$678$1@nnrp1.deja.com> NNTP-Posting-Host: c7.b7.09.72 User-Agent: tin/pre-1.4-19990517 ("Psychonaut") (UNIX) (SunOS/4.1.4 (sun4m)) Xref: uchinews rec.arts.books.tolkien:206731 tulip111 -aaatt- my-deja -daht- com, among others, wrote: : Eruadan wrote: :> Just thought you folks might be interested in being on the lookout for :> someone from this email address <> sending out :> private emails asking for text files of FOTR. : [snipppp] : I had one too - now consigned to oblivion, with the rest of the : nuisance messages. In fact, I had two - original request, then : correction to text files. I didn't get a copy. I'm so sad. :) ...But it occurs to me that what we _should_ be doing to handle these situations in the future is write up a complete text version of _LotR_ to give to everyone who wants a copy. Of course, that means we'd have to type in the entire book. Big job. In the interests of furthering cooperation, however, I will be happy to type in the first chapter. :) ----------------------------------------------------------------------- THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE RING, Chapter One: A Long-Expected Party. Copyright (c) 2000 by J.R.R. Tolkien. Anyone who has an interest in living authors, at least, should illegally copy this anyway because he's already dead. "So you're going to go through with it, then," Gandalf the Wizard sid slowly. "I am," Bilbo replied. "I've been planning this for a long time. It'll give the Hobbits of the Shire something to talk about for the next nine days - or ninety-nine, more likely. Anyway, at least I'll have my little joke." "Who will laugh, I wonder?" Gandalf mused aloud, scratching his beard idly. For weeks carts and caravans were coming from all over Middle-earth to bring provisions for the Grand Old Party, as Bilbo referred to it. Wagons of food from the Dwarvish mines at Erebor, shiny rocks from the Sea-elves and fancy seductive packages from southern Mirkwood arrived daily, making the neighborhood generally more crowded and cluttering up avenues. Even those who hadn't said anything bad about Bilbo before were starting to show their annoyance. "Mr. Bilbo Baggins is starting to get a mite annoying," old Gaffer Gamgee grumbled, standing outside the pub. "Queer goings-on, and no mistake. Why just yesterday a bunch o' pesky Wood-elves dragged their cart right acrost my yard and ruined my taters!" "A bunch of Men from Bree came to my place yesterday and tried to sell me some aluminum siding," mused Old Noakes of Bywater. "They said it was because they had extra after building that horrible Quonset hut over the Party Tree, and they were trying to unload it. Strange folk hereabouts." "Yes, but it's good for the economy," sneered Bill Ferny, the local banker. "A lot more money in circulation. Market's been doing well. Unionization is down because of all the entry-level service positions that are being created. Widening gap between the haves and have-nots, don't you think? Good to find work for idle hands." "And you don't know nothin' about anythin', Ferny," Gaffer Gamgee snapped, echoing the popular community sentiment. "Mr. Bilbo Baggins is a right bastard, as I've often said, and it's small wonder if trouble don't come of him and his imperialist ways. The Revolution's a'comin', and it's the likes o'you who'll be the first ag'inst the wall, so sayeth the Lord." And with that he spat a well-aimed beer-nut into Ferny's glass. At last the day of the Big Party arrived. Everywhere there was too much to eat, and by midafternoon there were broken presents lying all over the Shire attesting to the low quality of their manufacture. Gandalf set off a series of fireworks later on in the day, including great skywriting missiles and little flaming butterflies who took to wing, sailed off into the Eastfarthing and burned all its trees to the ground. The last firework sent up a great black smoke which took the shape of a giant mountain of fire. A flicker could be seen of a giant dragon sailing about its peak; after a moment the great dragon went sailing over the heads of the crowd, causing great panic and consternation and six outright heart attacks before imploding somewhere over the Sackville-Baggins' neighborhood, causing considerable property damage which was never properly repaired generations afterward. "That is the signal for supper!" Bilbo cried out to the survivors, who were only partly mollified. Later on, in the specially-designed quonset hut which Bilbo had built especially for the occasion, all his friends and neighbors were helping themselves to their third helpings of macaroni and cheese and potato salad (the latter laced liberally with what Bilbo called the "traditional secret ingredient", which while not actually a narcotic still had unusual effects, the sum of which were still under scientific inquiry in some circles), Bilbo stood up and motioned for quiet. "A speech! A speech!" some of his neighbors cried out in fear. _My dear Hobbits!_ Bilbo began. There was much cheering at this, as Hobbits on the whole are a rather egocentric lot, and anyway the latest round of potato salad was beginning to kick in. _My dear Bagginses and Bracegirdles, Boffins and Borfledebees, Casmits and Cantankerums, Fassbinders and Fazoolas, Wombats and Wafflefoots._ "WaffleFEET!" cried out an irate old man at the back, in fact the very man who had earned the name when Bilbo's nephew Frodo had accidentally dropped a hot waffle-iron on his feet some years ago. He had borne the Bagginses no ill-will, since the settlement was quite generous. _Waflefoots,_ continued Bilbo, oblivious. _This is my nine hundreth birthday! And though one million years is too short a time to have spent with you all..._ There was some muffled converstaion throughout the hall, which Bilbo took notice of. _Well, on bad days it seems like a million years,_ he explained. _Anyway, though ten billion years is long enough to endure from all of you, this is IT... I am GOING... I am leaving NOW... GoodBYE!_ And with that Bilbo leaped up, tore all his clothes off, scattering them about the astoinished guests' heads, and ran from the great Hut screaming and flailing his arms. Young Frodo looked on in bemusement, refusing to answer questions from the astonished crowd. Everyone knew, of course, that Bilbo was a big man in the community. But - and Frodo looked at the crowd, particularly noting the astonishment on old Lobelia's face - until now, nobody knew just _how_ big. "Well! That's done!" Bilbo laughed, emerging from the bedroom at Bag End freshly dressed. "You know, Gandalf, I've been wanting to do that for as long as I can remember. Now I think this would be an excellent time to leave the Shire, at least before they can all find their torches and axe-handles. Everything stays with Frodo, as we promised." "Including the Ring?" Gandalf asked. "Well, yes, I suppose so," Bilbo replied. He pulled the Ring out from under his cloak, where it hung on a fine golden chain Bilbo had stolen of old from the Brandybucks. "Still, though, I kind of hate to get rid of it." "This seemed to me to be the only thing worthwhile about your whole stupid plan," Gandalf said uncharacteristically. "Put it on the mantel and walk away from it. It has got far too much hold on you. Let it go!" "It's mine! And I shall keep it, I say!" Gandalf raised himself up to his full height. Bilbo's hand reached quietly for the hilt of his sword. "It will be my turn to get angry soon," the wizard intoned. "Listen to me: you must give Frodo the Ring!" Bilbo suddenly laughed. "Oh, _that_?" he grinned. "Well, of _course_ I'm giving him the Ring! I thought you meant the _chain._" Slipping the Ring off the chain he set the circle of gold on the mantel without a second thought. Then he slipped the chain about his neck. "I love this chain. Stole it from old Matuseck Brandybuck back before he went senile. Wouldn't part with it for love nor money. No, I don't give two flies about the Ring. Nothing but trouble, that thing has been. "Well, I'm off, Gandalf! I'm off on the road again, and not a moment too soon by the look of that crowd down there." And taking an old walking-stick from the stand by the door Bilbo went outside, taking a path around the back of the Hill so he could leave unobserved, and as he left he began singing a song quietly to himself: "While often by the door I lie And look upon the mountains' feet And think of rains and hikers' pains And sleeping wetly in the sleet, When darkness' cry does terrify And wilderness encircles you, And being food for goblins' brood Is one choice, and starvation two; Then staying home instead of roam Will have a very great appeal! Forego the Quest! And have a rest! Let Dwarves and Elves and wizards squeal! But since the Shire is filled with ire, And all my neighbors fevers grip, It's plain to see! I must agree! The time has come to take a trip!" Hours later Frodo returned to Bag End, a little glad to have thrown off the pursuit at last. He started at first to discovere someone waiting for him in the living-room, but sighed with relief when he saw it was only Gandalf. "Did he get away?" Frodo asked. "He did," Gandalf replied. "And just at the last, for they were getting ready to set after him with dogs. Luckily he doubled back at the Three-Farthing Stone, as I recommended, or there would be a special bonfire in Tuckborough tonight. Are you well?" "Yes," Frodo replied. "I managed to convince everyone I was uninvolved with the Hay Incident." "Good," Gandalf said. He lit his pipe with a nearby candle and looked at Frodo evenly. "He left things for you on the mantel. The ded to Bag End, a signed statement saying you were only an unwitting accomplice in the Bywater Incident, and-" "The Ring!" Frodo said, looking at the mantel with astonishment. "Has he left me that?" "He has," Gandalf replied, "though you'll have to find a new chain. But if I may counsel you in the use of your own - don't use it! Now or later! It may have other powers besides quick and easy seduction." "I can't believe Bilbo left me the Ring," Frodo gasped. "He used to say that it and a bottle of Westfarthing Chinook was all you needed for the perfect weekend." "Well, lock it up someplace and stay away from it," Gandalf intoned. "No Took-wives, no Elf-virgins, and no real estate deals. And no political aspirations! In the morning I'm off to see if I can learn more about it. In the meantime leave it unused until I return." "I'll, uh, I'll think about that, all right," Frodo blurted, trying hard not to think about the Ring and young Cassiopiea Took. The next morning Gandalf left, leaving Frodo with only his thoughts, his yearnings and a half-empty bottle of Westfarthing Chinook for company. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- ohh netcom com And now I can pass it on for Chapter Two. Ojevind, would you care to do the honours? :)