My first year of college was at a small, Lutheran Liberal Arts college in Milwaukee. About a month after I started, my Dad, a pastor of a tiny rural parish about forty miles north of Milwaukee, accepted a call to another congregation in a different state. As I said at the time, I didn’t run away from home, my home ran away from me. I didn’t have a lot of friends those first few months, and both my dormmates were members of a choral group and so were frequently away on weekends. I spent a lot of time, especially on those weekends, by myself alone. And worst of all, I had left all my books back at home, so I had nothing to read.
Well, not quite nothing. One of my roommates had the first couple volumes of Philip Jose Farmer’s Riverworld series and The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant the Whiner; but I burned through those fairly quickly.
Then, one day, I happened to look out my dorm window. It overlooked the roof of the Student Union, which was located in the basement of the dorm. There, among the bits of litter and debris scattered on the tarpaper roof, was a paperback book.
I climbed out onto the roof and rescued it, and saw that it was a copy of Fellowship of the Ring. Its cover had been singed in a couple of places, leading me to suspect that someone had lit it on fire with a cigarette lighter and chucked it out of one of the upper floors of the dorm.
Why would anyone do that? Was it a quarrel between roommates? Did one of them think Tolkien was satanic? I never found out. But I adopted the abandoned volume.
I had read LOTR several times in high school, and knew the book well; but that year alone in college, it became my special friend; and I read it over and over again in the following months.
xxx
I want to share some lighter things with you: a few Filk
songs I wrote inspired by LOTR. So I suppose you can call it
"Tolkien's LOTR Like You've Never Sung It":
- - - - - - -
THIS RING IS GNAWING ON MY MIND
(tune: "Windmills of Your Mind")
It lies heavy in my pocket like a red and lidless eye,
I don't know how I can destroy it but I know I gotta try;
I gotta take it down to Mordor, chuck it in the Crack of Doom
Or Sauron's hordes will surely triumph and they're gonna do it soon;
I gotta travel through the wild where no Hobbit's ever gone
And all the while this voice keeps telling me to put the sucker on;
It seems that recently I find
This ring is gnawing on my mind.
I left Hobbiton last autumn chased by creepy guys in black
Along with Merry, Sam and Pippin and no chance of coming back
We met with Aragorn the Ranger, (pleasant guy, but kinda grim),
He said he'd take us all to Rivendell and keep the Ring from HIM;
We went to Elrond lord of Rivendell to ask him what to do,
He said "The Doom of Middle-Earth is nigh; tough, kid, it's up to you!"
It's like a fate I don't deserve
This ring is getting on my nerves!
We lost Gandalf in a pit somewhere down deep in Khazad-Dum;
We got to rest awhile in Lorien but had to leave too soon;
Pursued by Gollum (slimy creep) consumed by jealousy and hate
And even Boromir of Gondor eyes me funnily of late;
We have to slog through swamps and Oliphaunts and Orcs and everything
And when it would be swell to vanish I can't use the stupid Ring!
And then we're almost into Mordor when I'm suddenly aware
That the last turn led us straight into a giant spider's lair.
It lies heavy in my pocket like a red and lidless eye
I don't know how I can destroy it but I know I gotta try
It seems that recently I find, No peace of mind
This ring is gnawing on my mind!
- - - - - -
MORIA
(sung to the tune of "They Call the Wind Mariah"
The dwarves have names they do not tell
For steel and forge and fire.
Their mountain home is Khazad-dum
But the elves call it Moria.
Moria's halls wind dark and deep,
Within the mountain's bowels;
The names of those who in them sleep
Have hardly any vowels.
Moria, Moria,
They call the realm Moria
Long, long ago in Durin's day
These mines the dwarves did settle;
Deep, deep they delved Moria's mines
And found the mithril metal.
But then, alas, too deep they delved,
For mithril, so alluring;
Until they woke the baneful blight
That proved the doom of Durin.
Moria, Moria.
They call the realm Moria
The dwarves have names for fire and forge
And others they ain't telling;
But there's no curses strong enough
For the Bane of Durin's Dwelling.
And someday they'll reclaim their land,
And purge it from all terror;
Moria call your kinfolk home,
For there's no cavern fairer.
Moria, Moria
They call the realm Moria.
- - - - - - -
HALFLING BLUES
(to the tune of...okay, I didn't base this one off an existing song,
just a generic12-bar blues riff)
I'm a halfling, and my woes are as big as I'm not.
I live in a long lost world what most folk forgot.
An' I'm trying so hard to lose
-- I got them Halfling Blues.
Wizards and elves assume that I'm not wise;
And even the dwarves make jokes about my size;
No one shares your views
-- You got them Halfling Blues.
Halfling Blues
Are buggin' me;
I'm just about as low as low can be.
I walk around
Wearin' funny clothes
And I got hair on all of my toes
I mean my present state has got me so confused
I have paid my dues
-- Singin' them Halfling Blues.
I said I'm sick and tired of trying to talk to people while staring
them in the knee;
An' it's hard playin' basketball when you stand three foot three.
Nothing can excuse;
My feet hurt 'cause I don't wear shoes,
How I long to lose
-- Them crummy li'l Halfling Blu-u-u-u-ues....