Friday, April 08, 2005
Fellowship Of The Ring
"I will take the Ring," he said,
"though I do not know the way."
God has crafted a rousing action-adventure for the fellowship. Frodo, Gandalf, Aragorn, Boromir, Legolas, Gimli, were the every fragments that constructed this appalling group of elf, hobbit, dwarf, humans, and wizard, and they were setting out on a difficult journey to Mt. Doom, facing Sauron and his legion. The battle for middle earth had commenced.
Aragorn, Isuldur's heir, the emblem of dauntlessness, the symbol of leadership, rose above the fellowship. With the sword clenched tightly in his palms, the orcs proved to be mere sissy-pants, or pantywaists, whatever you want to name those homely as a mud fence bitches. But, Aragorn aint a saint. He was void of perseverance to carry on at times, too hard, too tough, the future just seemed so bleak.
What knacks should Peter Jackson induce into the other characters to aid Aragorn then?
Simple, Gandalf is the sage, Boromir is the potent warrior, Legolas is the gruff dude, Gimli is the charming archer, and Frodo is... erm... perhaps just one born out of wedlock, to make the plot more interesting.
Anyway, the battle scenes are fascinating, worth a penny more than those stubby of Carlsberg. Aragorn fall on the orcs with blows which made my heart skipped thousand of beats.
So people of middle earth, behold. March on, Slay the orcs that impeded our road to victory. Sauron is awaiting, for you, for me, because he needs to be kicked in the ass. The fellowship has ascented from almost nothing, and we have sworned to drip ounces of blood on every inch of grass. Maybe gallons, litres, i do have not the faintest idea. The final battlefield will be in a holy place, the august and magnificent land for wonders and miracles.
The Police Academy.
See you there.
By the way, i do not by any means possess a sword, perhaps only biceps bigger than my chest.
"though I do not know the way."
God has crafted a rousing action-adventure for the fellowship. Frodo, Gandalf, Aragorn, Boromir, Legolas, Gimli, were the every fragments that constructed this appalling group of elf, hobbit, dwarf, humans, and wizard, and they were setting out on a difficult journey to Mt. Doom, facing Sauron and his legion. The battle for middle earth had commenced.
Aragorn, Isuldur's heir, the emblem of dauntlessness, the symbol of leadership, rose above the fellowship. With the sword clenched tightly in his palms, the orcs proved to be mere sissy-pants, or pantywaists, whatever you want to name those homely as a mud fence bitches. But, Aragorn aint a saint. He was void of perseverance to carry on at times, too hard, too tough, the future just seemed so bleak.
What knacks should Peter Jackson induce into the other characters to aid Aragorn then?
Simple, Gandalf is the sage, Boromir is the potent warrior, Legolas is the gruff dude, Gimli is the charming archer, and Frodo is... erm... perhaps just one born out of wedlock, to make the plot more interesting.
Anyway, the battle scenes are fascinating, worth a penny more than those stubby of Carlsberg. Aragorn fall on the orcs with blows which made my heart skipped thousand of beats.
So people of middle earth, behold. March on, Slay the orcs that impeded our road to victory. Sauron is awaiting, for you, for me, because he needs to be kicked in the ass. The fellowship has ascented from almost nothing, and we have sworned to drip ounces of blood on every inch of grass. Maybe gallons, litres, i do have not the faintest idea. The final battlefield will be in a holy place, the august and magnificent land for wonders and miracles.
The Police Academy.
See you there.
By the way, i do not by any means possess a sword, perhaps only biceps bigger than my chest.
# posted by Dao @ 9:50 AM 
