We received a lot of great submissions for October’s Rewrite Tolkien contest (characters from The Hobbit in the writing style of Edgar Allan Poe), including some impressive international entries from France and Mexico!<\/p>\n
This months winner is…<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The Party, by Alastair Murray of Edinburgh, Scotland<\/strong><\/p>\n Alastair’s poem\u00a0will be read live by TORn’s own Quickbeam\u00a0on tonight’s TORn Tuesday;\u00a0 we’ve also reprinted it below, along with our 2 runners-up.<\/p>\n On Wednesday we’ll be posting information on November’s contest.\u00a0 Hint: you might want to start brushing up on your wizarding terms.<\/p>\n Congratulations to our winners, and thanks to everyone that submitted an entry!<\/p>\n ***********<\/p>\n WINNING ENTRY: The Party, by Alastair Murray of Edinburgh, Scotland<\/span><\/p>\n Once upon an evening proper, while I readied for my supper, Open here I flung the portal, when, instead of the immortal, Barely had I found him seating – barely had the cakes been eaten – Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, Startled at the quick intrusion, bustling through my apt confusion, Right away they got to eating; all my precious cakes, depleting Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer One by one, the dwarves were singing songs of harps and bells a-ringing Deep into that darkness peering, long I sat there wondering, fearing, Late that night, the house was sleeping; through my head, the visions seeping – And the roadway, never-ending, still is winding, still is bending <\/p>\n Runner Up: The Raven, by Alaryn Estel<\/span><\/p>\n Once after a night of fear, rose the morning grey yet clear, Ah, the terror I recall, when Smaug smashed the mountain hall, And the delving, ever deeper, in the deep majestic caverns, Long we stood on doorstep waiting, thinking long, hesitating, Once again this bird came winging, but we scarce did heed its singing, Soon there came a fluttering, a giant bird came muttering, Yet the bird kept on talking, a long relentless squawking, Oh, curs\u00e9d bird, bring my message to all who would take passage, Hard we toiled in our labor, against our foes, no friendly neighbor, Again they come and try to treat, yet no demands will I deign meet, Oh, foul and miserable thieves! In his grave, my Father grieves! Soon darkness swirled up on the wind to pay them for their sin, But the terror of the battle, did our spirits sorely rattle, The Raven, in his wisdom, had the right of true freedom, <\/p>\n Runner Up: The Sacking of Erebor by Vanity Moreau, Salt Lake City, Utah, U.S.A<\/span><\/p>\n Twas first a wind Then came the cry It cried of hunger, treasure, blood A beast of lore that did not settle He tossed his flame upon the gate In all its glory days, Footsteps left to rot in the ground But march he would, with map and key For we know the tales We received a lot of great submissions for October’s Rewrite Tolkien contest (characters from The Hobbit in the…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":12,"featured_media":81812,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"inline_featured_image":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_feature_clip_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2},"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[85,14,2008,159,1548],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-81804","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-events-contests","category-events","category-parodies","category-torn-community","category-torn-tuesdays-live"],"aioseo_notices":[],"aioseo_head":"\n\t\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t
\nThinking nothing of old Gandalf who had come this way before
\nWhile I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
\nAs of someone gently rapping, rapping at the Bag-End door
\n“‘Tis the wizard!” now I started, “tapping at the Bag-End door
\nI’d forgotten – tea at four!”<\/p>\n
\nIn there stepped a dwarf – a stern and rugged countenance he wore;
\nAfter an obeisance made he, not a minute stopped or stayed he;
\nBut, with mien of lord or lady, strode in through the Bag-End door.
\nBarely did I think to mark the kindnesses of ancient lore:
\n“At your service!” “And at yours!”<\/p>\n
\nWhen again there came a knocking somewhat louder than before.
\nBack towards the doorway turning, all my soul within me burning,
\nHere I found my eyes discerning one more dwarf stood at my door
\nAs the two talked on of distant mountains by the western shore,
\nTwo more dwarves came to my door.<\/p>\n
\n“Dwarves,” said I, “good dwarves, truly your forgiveness I implore;
\nBut the fact is I’m expecting just one guest, yet I’m collecting
\nDwarves; tell me, what is directing you towards my humble door?”
\nThen, once more, a knock. Said I, “Someone again?” Said they, “Some four!”
\nSo it was. And then one more.<\/p>\n
\n“Doubtless,” said I, “they are here by accident, and nothing more.
\nWhat am I to offer them? Confusticate, bebother them!
\nWhy must I now weather them endangering my home’s decor?”
\nOne last knock, and with a temper, here I opened wide the door –
\nFour more dwarves fell on my floor.<\/p>\n
\nAnd old Gandalf, standing back from all the dwarves that came before.
\nThirteen total: Thorin, Dori, Fili, Balin, Oin, Ori,
\nKili, Dwalin, Gloin, Nori, Bifur, Bofur and Bom-bore
\nThough they cleaned the dishes well, they had exhausted all my store.
\nIn the pantry: nothing more.<\/p>\n
\nDarkness for the business dark was called for, and they laughed no more
\nGathered round a piece of parchment; at the break of day, they’d march, when
\nEvery stone and hall and arch meant for their kin, they’d claim once more
\nTo the Lonely Mountain borne, with secret key for secret door.
\nQuoth the wizard: “Erebor.”<\/p>\n
\nDragon-fire in twisted wire, the wealth of their great halls of yore
\nFar across the Misty Mountains cold, the dragon Smaug – confound him! –
\nBoldly burned the nearby town, then rampaged through the halls of Thr\u00f3r
\nDwarves had heard the tramp of doom, and fled their home for evermore;
\nDarkness fell on Erebor.<\/p>\n
\nDoubting, dreaming dreams no hobbit ever dared to dream before;
\nBut the singing then was broken, and the darkness gave no token,
\nAnd the only words there spoken – mine, while trembling to the core!
\n“Struck by lightning! Struck by lightning!” as I fell upon my floor –
\nDarkness then, and nothing more.<\/p>\n
\nRoads that ran beyond the Shire, the paths ahead I would explore
\nWaking with my house so empty, not until about ten twenty
\nDid I realise that plenty time had wasted as I snored
\nWith no time for this, nor that, nor handkerchief, I fled my door
\nTo the dwarves, and Erebor.<\/p>\n
\nStill is running far away from hobbit-hole, from my front door
\nFrom the door where it began, where I must follow if I can
\nDown the path and onwards ran the eager feet it lies before.
\nTo the Lonely Mountain borne, with secret key for secret door.
\nQuoth the hobbit: “Erebor!”<\/p>\n
\nUpon the horizon, birds were gathering by the score,
\nWhile I watched, with wary eyes, crows encircling the skies,
\nYet the autumn sure belies, ’tis too late for wandering more,
\n“Lo!” I remarked, “Something strange is happening out the door!\u201d
\nIs it then, a sign of war?<\/p>\n
\nAnd blistering flames seared the edges of the door,
\nThen I doubted all our quest, perhaps to not have come was best,
\nYet ’twas\u00a0mine by right, the rest, the gold – the gold of Erebor,
\nMemories of bright and golden days in sweet Erebor,
\n‘Til flee we must, out of the door.<\/p>\n
\nFinding, seeking places we’d not ever dug before,
\nTo this day, my heart is thrilling, at the sight of treasures filling,
\nEvery hall and corner spilling, from the ceiling to the floor,
\nGems and riches overflowing, scattered over all the floor,
\nBut now silence, so unlike before.<\/p>\n
\nDoubting Durin’s Day would fall like it’s ever done before,
\nBut the stones would tell us naught, and every day was fraught
\nWith fear of dragon fire, caught upon the step of the back door,
\n‘Til their came a steady rapping, a tap-tapping just outside the door.
\nLo! A Thrush did perch upon the floor.<\/p>\n
\nEven though it tried to warn us more loudly than before.
\nSurely he must bring a message, but I cannot guess what it is,
\nWould that his visage were a Raven from the days of yore,
\nThen perhaps we could understand his message more,
\nLike his fathers in the days before.<\/p>\n
\nSlowly flapping its ancient way across the valley floor.
\nI wonder what tidings he is bringing with his unseemly singing,
\nThen he croaked while winging, “Smaug is dead! Dead forevermore!”
\nAi! All our fears are sundered, settled finally, our old score,
\nOur treasure plundered never more!<\/p>\n
\nBidding me to yield our riches to so many score.
\nNay, I will not hear this madness! It would bring much sadness
\nOn my name and family, sadness upon those that went before,
\nTo no one will I give my treasure, naught will pass from out my door,
\nNot now or ever more.<\/p>\n
\nTrying swift to reach the Lonely Mountain’s floor.
\n“Back now, back now, to the Mountain!” There is aught that we can count on,
\nBut to lay a doubt on those who would soon steal our store,
\nThey shall not breach these halls, dear halls of Erebor,
\nOur spite they’ll get and nothing more!<\/p>\n
\nSwift we quarried rock to block up our front door,
\nThen a night came cold and weary, when all our eyes were bleary,
\nMany torches nearing, flaming in the south upon the valley floor,
\nThen they came without to treaty, like beggars at the door,
\nSilence will I give them, nothing more.<\/p>\n
\nThese halls I own, I am The King Under the Mountain Erebor!
\nThis is all my treasure, and my one prize is without measure,
\nGet thee gone! ‘Tis my pleasure to have you gone from my door.
\nThen I seized a bow and let an arrow fly to settle any score.
\nTrouble me no more!<\/p>\n
\nA vengeance and a curse I cast forever upon your door.
\nThe Arkenstone is only mine, only I may see it shine,
\nCurses upon thine, now and forever more!
\nBurglar, get thee gone, depart now and return no more
\nTo these halls of Erebor!<\/p>\n
\nBut fooled was I, for that was not at all what it held in store,
\nDread came up on goblin feet, wolves and wargs in battle greet,
\nA dreadful clash of armies meet, all over mount and valley floor.
\nWhen the tide could not be staid, then I leapt from out my door,
\n“To me! To me!” For Erebor!<\/p>\n
\nThe onslaught took its toll, \u2018til we were bathed in blood and gore,
\nThe enemy came surging, driving through our ranks and purging
\nAll our hopes of scourging the vile beasts from without our door,
\nAnd my kin and I were drowning in the ghastly tide of war,
\nUntil we could see no more\u2026<\/p>\n
\nWould that I had listened when he sat upon my door,
\nYet in my eyes was shining, all the hoarded gold and silver lining
\nThe great halls and vast depths shining, oh, splendid Erebor!
\nMy soul now goes to the halls of my Fathers who came before,
\nFarewell to my home forevermore!<\/p>\n
\nA clatter from the barren Northern skies
\nThat rattled, shook and seared the face
\nWith prying, soul less eyes
\nThat fed upon all fear
\nTeeth gnashing-
\nSoul by soul until
\nThe senses finally lied
\nIn such an alpine cold
\nDid surely this rotten wind belong,
\nBut when the winds did change
\nThey found the consequence
\nOf right and wrong.<\/p>\n
\nThat split the gusts
\nWith serpent tongue,
\nThat shattered hope and tore at minds
\nFor sanity was wearing
\nWhen the watchman rang the gong;
\nThe beast, it screamed a scream
\nThat sang the songs
\nOf corpses dancing salsa
\nUpon the toes
\nOf right and wrong.<\/p>\n
\nOf conquerers who, shattered, fell
\nTheir gems and jewels flying
\nOver hill and under dell,
\n\u2018Till nought was left of them but ash
\nThat buried them on sight, and there they dwell
\nBefore its eyes and teeth and smell
\nAnd grinding, wordless song
\nThat rolls like tumbleweeds and holly leaves along
\nThe bloodstained shores
\nOf right and wrong.<\/p>\n
\nAny more for stringy cattle
\nHunkered down for far too long,
\nDid finally rise, and far it flew
\nTo halls of peace and armies strong
\nWhere fire pranced like stags
\nAmong the cursed wreckage
\nOf right and wrong.<\/p>\n
\nLike feathers gathered from a golden pillowcase;
\nScarlet scales and silver claws
\nThat cleaved the flesh from Dwarvish bones
\nAnd lifted hollow armor -still\u00a0smoking- to his jaws;
\nHe sniffed, nostrils flaring, air sucking
\nThrough the dragon tunnels, hollow, long;
\nThen took a bite, reveled in it,
\nDeath and fire
\nThat fell like stars upon the moonless night
\nOf right and wrong.<\/p>\n
\nNever did the ancient citadel
\nSee such destruction as the day
\nThe embers of the dragon Smaug did quell
\nThe forge, the king\u2019s great hall,
\nAnd the Arkenstone, so small
\nA thing of such great value ere did fall
\nFrom the hands of the king
\nWhen he fled from his hall
\nFrom the dragon\u2019s breath,
\nThe smell of death,
\nAnd twisted metal burning on his left
\nThat, ringing, brought him with the rest
\nTo the massive gates where they gathered, bereft
\nOf home and hearth, and sang a bitter funeral song
\nBetween the past and lain out path
\nOf right and wrong.<\/p>\n
\nFor travelers coming around
\nMean nothing but the Dwarves were passing
\nThrough another blacksmith\u2019s town, run-down
\nWith swordmakers, swordsman, and swords to wield
\nThere the Dwarf-king\u2019s heir has found
\nA heart, a soul, no desire to yield
\nTo the dragon\u2019s scream that spits and creaks
\nLike melting armor-
\nThis is not the age to be weak
\nYet what will Thorin go to find?
\nWhat did he leave behind,
\nIn a city filled of scavengers
\nThat when one comes too close will squeak
\nAnd hide before the coming dawn
\nIn the crumbling age
\nOf right and wrong?<\/p>\n
\nAnd fourteen others willing
\nTo share his fate for blood or grudge,
\nA brother\u2019s love or lineage,
\nOr rights to filling
\nTheir pockets with gold from city forgotten
\nThat hides beneath a mountain rotten
\nWith vultures, worms and carrions,
\nEvery dweller dead save the dragon
\nWho snores beneath his lonely mountain,
\nWaiting for the blade of Thorin
\nTo dare seek his bloodied hide
\nTo even try,
\nTo fell the ripping jaws,
\nThe gleaming claws,
\nThe voice like heated rock that sears
\nAnd drags upon the ears;
\nHe waits and listens here,
\nAnd then he screams
\nHis awful dragon song
\nBut this is not yet the end of Thorin
\nWho doubtless was destined to die all along.<\/p>\n
\nof right and wrong.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"