Previous chapters in the Lord of the Rings e-text can be found at
<http://flyingmoose.org/tolksarc/book/book.htm>, except for the last
chapter, which is currently hosted at
You thought the e-text was all finished and over with, didn't you?
Well, so did we, until word got out that Trollkien's young son Christoto
had been changing the sheets of his father's bed, about ten years after
the latter's untimely death at the age of 110, and found a yellow,
stained manuscript with the intriguing title, "Epilogue, or an
Epistemological Epistle, or Father's Ramblings". After another ten years
of editing, Trollkien Jr. finally published the manuscript, with his own
explanatory notes attached to it. All allegations that Christoto
Trollkien himself wrote the Epilogue as a way of inserting himself into
his father's universe have been strongly denied.
The manuscript left by my father is not in a good condition. It was
written hastily, on fragile paper, under bad lighting conditions, with a
near-empty pen that was leaking. It has been further marred by droppings
from my father's incessantly smoking pipe, as well as by stains of other
colourings, presumably from my father's incessantly dropping mice. I
have therefore, in some places, had to guess exactly what my father
meant. This may account for any disrepancies between the main corpus and
the epilogue. I, not possessing my father's genius for making everything
fit together nicely, apologise beforehand.
The first page of the manuscript is in a worse condition than the
others. Mice have nibbled on it, flies have sat on it, and many words
seem to have mutated. I cannot reproduce them here. In addition, the
paper seems to have been touched by flames in a number of places, so
that the only word I can make out in an entire paragraph is "dream". Or
maybe "cream". The gist of it, however, is that Morrie - who is now
called Otto - wanders throug the Rogling-induced desert, feeling
somewhat sad. The story takes on a more optimistic note when Otto
notices a cactus that is sprouting in the wasteland. Even the most dry,
desolate, and desperate, situation has possibilities, he muses. The
former druglord is deep in thoughts about a high-profile series of
courses on positive thought for Gondorian executives when he is
disturbed by the sight of a hobbit-lass who is as naked as the wasteland
- that is, she is only wearing a bikini the size of a (small) cactus.
All his plans turn into fairy dust as he learns that she is
Paraphernalia Took, a rebellious youngster and a really hot babe. They
enjoy the... [treasures?] of the desert for a while, and must have
really liked them, for the next thing you know, they're married. I think
my father wanted to say something about the intensity of pure love here.
The newlyweds are grudgingly admitted into the bosom of the Took Clan
and placed in a small flat in the outskirts of the Tookish commune, "if
only for poor Paraphernalia's sake". He takes the Tookish name
Totalitarian, which is usually shortened to Toto.
Henceforth my father's narrative becomes more legible.
And one evening in May, Mister Toto Hook was smoking in secret in his
study, and the children were all smoking with him, as was not at all
unusual, though it was always supposed to be a special treat. He had
been talking, as was usual, about his Big Bunk Journey, as the children
called it. Slunked on the floor next to him was Bilbette, who usually
was a pretty, spirited child, and she was already begun to run with
boys, and there was Gulibble next to her, a clever child who could speak
and spell well, and was in all ways of manner and looks different from
Toto, and in a a chair that was just big enough for all of them sat
Fryodour, Paraphrase, and Murderous - their father had gotten a bit
carried away while naming them. There was also little Quietyou playing
merrily near the hearth, and Bombadido sleeping peacefully in her
mother's lap, unaware of the disastrous naming her mother had only
barely averted. She was likely to be their last, for the Hooks were
credited almost singlehandedly with inspiring the new single-child
policy implemented by the Chief "until further notice". Morrison had
already gone to bed. Toto's eldest son had grown out of listening to his
father's drunken ramblings, and had to get up early to drive the Shire
Van the next morning. That was just as well for Toto, for Morrison had
the annoying habit of intercepting his tales with exclamations like "Ja,
ja!" and the like.
'Sure, love,' Toto drawled. 'She ruled. I saw her with my own eyes. She
ruled.' His eyes focussed on his nose, while his mouth revealed happy
'Does a woman rule it still, Poppy?'
'I don't see why she shouldn't, Billie. Circumstances have never
permitted me to leave the Shire again - I supposed /they/ think I might
do something dangerous,' and here he laughed drily, and continued:
'Anyway, with you bloody brats depending on me there's no chance in Udun
they'll ever let me. But Mr. Paragraph and Mrs. Cassiopeia, they have
been there, and seen with their own eyes how Spiegel manages Gondor.
Yeah, that Pipsqueak has been there more than once, he seems right
obsessed with the place, as a matter of fact. Maybe they've got some
really good weed there?' He took a deep breath from his pipe and exhaled
'I hear they call it /The Stoned City/,' piped in Paraphrase excitedly,
uncannily like the aforementioned Paragraph.
'It must be /her/,' Bilbette said dreamily, and for a moment forgot
about the dinghy, dusty cellar room where they all crowded together
because they had no place else to sit. 'She's done a really good job of
it, hasn't she?'
'Get back to the story!' cried Murderous merrily. 'I want to hear about
the flying guts again! And the cannibal orcs! And the killer robots!'
Toto shot him an intrigued look. 'I don't remember telling you that,' he
said slowly. 'And I haven't been that tangled in the weed lately. Good
weed is hard to find these days.' A furrow of suspicion appeared below
his receding hairline. 'You haven't been taking any of those... /modern/
things, have you?'
Murderous just giggled, and attempted a headstand.
'Pop, we were talking about Gondor,' said Bilbette crisply. 'and whether
a woman still rules it.'
'Why are you so interested in politics all of a sudden?' Toto asked
sharply, the cotton in his head growing thinner. Bilbette looked right
back at him, straightened her habitually slouched back, and drew a deep
'Because I think it's time women took - pardon the pun - charge. The
world has suffered too long under the egotism of Men, who subject it to
their every whim. This would be fine if they were reasonable, I
supposed, but the tyranny of the Patriarchy is the worst thing that has
befallen the world, worse even than opera. For don't we see it in their
every action? Men think only of themselves, their bellies, their stakes,
and of filling their chambers with treasure. That is, the ones who know
how to think - some of them just use brute force. Of course, having
their hedonious pleasures is nothing. No, they have to destroy
everything that is beautiful and elegant as well, just because it
happens to be feminine. In fact, I have come up with a well-backed
theory which explains everything: Men are from Mordor, while women are
obviously from Valinor. Yea, we are like flowering trees of light that
the coarse powers of masculinity defile and despoil just because they
feel like it. Worst of all, the patriarchy has gained such a paralysing
grip on society that it has convinced the women of its righteousness. It
has taken all the myths and distorted them to suit its own purposes. You
know the myth about Melkor and Anngalantė? Calling her a light-sucking
spider is such a hoax, it's just a cover-up created to hide the fact
that humanity worshipped her as an earth goddess upon first awaking in
the world. Speaking of stories, yours is a typical example of how the
Man's tyranny pervades our thinking, Pops. It's all just a big game for
big boys, isn't it? It wouldn't have happened at all hadn't it been for
Men's egos. Do you think we would have had that desert outside the fence
if it hadn't been for the thoughtless actions of Men? Or the wars? Or
Jerry Springybuck on palantirvision?' She looked defiantly at her
family, which stared back, dumbstruck.
'What do your little boy-friends say when you talk to them about these
ideas, dear?' Paraphernalia finally asked from beneath her baby.
'They'd better accept it, or get out of my sight,' replied Bilbette, and
caustically added, 'I'm not prepared to be a dumb brood sow for the rest
of my life.'
'Now we shan't have that kind of talk in my living-room,' Toto said,
having finally parsed his daughter's astonishing speech. 'My Big Journey
was a proper Adventure, and that's a fac...' he coughed, and hastily
corrected himself 'and that's the truth. I won't have any denigeration
of my quest to fight for all that was right and holy.'
'Pops, you just finished a detailed description of Shelob's nightclub,'
Bilbette reminded him. 'You ended it with a crude joke about Frodo and
his fondness for Rings. In fact, the story mainly consists of bad jokes
about sex and murder. And any sign of sensitivity is inevitably
ridiculed as being gay!' She had worked her spirit up now, and she was
great and terrible to behold, her eyes flaring and her mouth spouting
words and more words. 'It's a symbol of the repressive patriarchy,
that's what it is. And it's a phallic metaphor. And as I said, there are
no real women in it.'
'How can you say that?' Gulibble exclaimed. 'The story is chock full of
women - great women! There's Lego-Lass in the Fellowship, and Arwen, the
Warrior Babe, and that Evil Witch of the East, and the other Evil Witch
of the East, and sexy Shelob, and our very own Cassiopeia Took as well,
in case you forgot.'
'You proved my point,' his sister said triumphantly. 'All the women we
see have either assumed the roles of men, and/or function as sex toys
for men, or they are depicted as evil witches. Arwen is a perfect symbol
of this. At first she is viewed as a fine, firm-breasted babe who
amazingly knows how to handle weapons, but as her power grows, she is
demonised. Just like her strong foremothers were in their time. Now
Cassie, on the other hand, only got to be the Old Took by becoming an
honourary man - she is always referred to as "he" in councils and
official protocol, imagine that! And we all know that she only got the
position by bedding several members...'
'Bilbette!' her mother said sharply, and looked around her nervously.
Toto stepped in. 'You don't say that kind of thing around here, I
said,' he said. 'It ain't safe. And I don't like hearin' it, neither.'
While Bilbette was talking, he had clumsily pulled off his sock and was
now attempting to smoke it.
'Anyway, I'd really like to meet Spiegel,' Bilbette said stubbornly.
'By the way,' Gulibble interrupted and put an intelligent (but not /too/
intelligent) look on his face as he addressed his father, 'Whatever
happened to Radagast's plans? Did all of Middle Earth - apart from our
Shire, and the desert - become covered in forest, like he said it
'Well, son, first you have to know one thing,' Toto said. 'Radagast
really likes /trees/.' He winked in a meaningful way, and Gulibble
pretended he understood.
'We set out to his not-so-secret dwelling in a treetop...'
'Wait a minute! Didn't you just say you had never left the Shire after
your Journey?' Paraphrase said in his most annoying squeaky voice.
'Well, never officially,' Toto said and looked at them
conspiratorically. What he was now about to reveal was one of the
greatest prides of his life.
'So, like, he's all guts and Green Pride when we get there, right?
Bouncing around, teaching little squirrels to dance, all kinds of weird,
megalomaniac activities. So I show him my Hook.' Toto took the velvet
sheath off his shiny pride and watched it sparkle in the dim light from
the fireplace. A mischievous smile revealed his shiny yellow teeth.
'Then I show him what my Hook can do.' He waved his artificial limb
around so that it made strange and frightening shadows on the wall. The
family could easily imagine him slash and maim innocent trees. 'I don't
stop until he's on the ground, pleading for mercy!' Toto exclaimed with
a sadistic leer.
There was a long silence. Finally, Gulibble said uncertainly, 'Err...
aren't trees protected according to the Tree Preservation Statute?'
'Special licence, my lad,' Toto said nonchalantly. 'Secret mission and
all that. All for the good of the Shire, of course. You could say I
bought my way into the Establishment.' He threw his wife a sleazy kiss
across the room.
'In the end, we all came to an agreement. So now, Radagast lives
peacefully among the trees in his reservation, and he is happy in his
own way, I suppose. But he'll go to seed one day, I don't doubt. There's
only so much you can teach squirrels, so sooner or later he'll end up
with a major depression. His vision failed, as it was doomed to do
sooner or later, when the first tree fell to the multi-national logging
companies. The "Wild Wild Worest" has become a great success amongst
sophisticated Gondorians looking for a simpler life, and for Hobbits,
who go there for the parties.'
Paraphernalia gave a small sigh. It was one of her long-standing,
unfulfilled wishes to take a weekend trip to the Wild Wild Worest. The
melancholic silence was soon broken by Paraphrase, of course. He
squeaked loudly, like a sound effect to a point his father had given in
his story fifteen minutes previusly. The whole family looked at him.
'Sorry,' Paragraph smiled.
'/I/ think Radagast has found a harmonious co-existence with the
entwives,' Bilbette said determinedly.
'You read too many stories, my gal,' Toto said fondly to his rebellious
daughter, whose pretty face became even cuter when she was this flushed
and engaged about something. 'Anyway, it's time you do the dishes.'
'Why do always /I/ have to do the dishes? Why can't Gulibble do them for
once?' Bilbette said angrily.
'Shush now, my dear,' her mother said sedately. 'If it ain't fair for
you to do the dishes, then it ain't fair for me to sit here with your
father and you lot in a musty, cramped apartment, without never going to
see the Wild Wild Worest, and it ain't just for your loving father to
rule the household. So be good and do your chores, now.'
Still fuming, Bilbette was unable to sleep as she lay sleepless in the
bed she shared with Fryodour and Murderous, feeling insomniac. Her
little sisters were sleeping like angels, albeit angels that smelled
slightly of fast-food and gnashed their teeth in their sleep. They
looked so innocent, thought Bilbette, who was used to the scent and the
gnashing. Little did they know about the slavery that awaited them!
Bilbette raged at herself for calmly doing the dishes after her parents
had ordered her to do them - on top of everything they had seemed even
dirtier than usual, and Paraphrase's had been full of tomato sauce on
the inside /and/ outside. Suddenly she stopped blaming herself, for a
thought struck her: If she didn't do anything soon, her mother's
resigned words would ring true even for her. If she stayed, she had no
right to call for fairness.
Quietly, Bilbette slipped out of her bed and into her clothes. The
sonorous chorus of her sleeping family and the familiar scents of their
unhealthy cooking followed her as she tiptoed through the small, dusty
common room, and out the door. 'And whither then?' she asked herself,
half-remembering a poem she had heard in passing, from a stranger, long
ago. She felt as if she had been born again. She had so many things she
wanted to see, so much she needed to do. There were so many myths to
disspell, so many critiques to make, so many /proper/ adventures to be
had. She looked at the small, delapidated place she had called home for
so many years. 'I'll be back,' she whispered softly. And she was off.
Tamf, lellow dwagin and CHOKLIT-eater at your service.
all comments on this will be appreciated; however, i won't be able to
respond until mid-january.
And Appendix A can be found, er, um, euh, in Google, unless it got
archived soemwhere real.
> explanatory notes attached to it. All allegations that Christoto
> Trollkien himself wrote the Epilogue as a way of inserting himself into
> his father's universe have been strongly denied.
Toto is a Morrie Sue!
> obsessed with the place, as a matter of fact. Maybe they've got some
> really good weed there?' He took a deep breath from his pipe and exhaled
And several e-text authors smoked it.
> Toto shot him an intrigued look. 'I don't remember telling you that,' he
> said slowly. 'And I haven't been that tangled in the weed lately. Good
> weed is hard to find these days.' A furrow of suspicion appeared below
> his receding hairline. 'You haven't been taking any of those... /modern/
> things, have you?'
> Murderous just giggled, and attempted a headstand.
etc., I've snippeded the rest, but the whole thign is excellent, and I
LOLLed several times!
Ther only scary thing is that it seems to suggest a s equel.
> Quietly, Bilbette slipped out of her bed and into her clothes. The
> sonorous chorus of her sleeping family and the familiar scents of their
> unhealthy cooking followed her as she tiptoed through the small, dusty
> common room, and out the door. 'And whither then?' she asked herself,
> half-remembering a poem she had heard in passing, from a stranger, long
> ago. She felt as if she had been born again. She had so many things she
> wanted to see, so much she needed to do. There were so many myths to
> disspell, so many critiques to make, so many /proper/ adventures to be
> had. She looked at the small, delapidated place she had called home for
> so many years. 'I'll be back,' she whispered softly. And she was off.
This is an abomination, even worse in moral terms than in aesthetic.
The evil of Bilbettism must be destroyed!
In order to free the world from this menace please send $100 to
Pseudonymus Roghater, UFAT, Trolleea and Flammaria, 844383483242XXX.
> This is an abomination, even worse in moral terms than in aesthetic.
> The evil of Bilbettism must be destroyed!
> In order to free the world from this menace please send $100 to
> Pseudonymus Roghater, UFAT, Trolleea and Flammaria, 844383483242XXX.