Tag Archives: Lord of the Rings

The Hunt (Or: That One Time I Got my Dad to Make a Geeky Reference)

3 Sep

I’ve just gotten back from my first bowhunting trip.

In related news, I will now only be responding to the name Katniss.

No, actually, that is definitely not true. But I did go bowhunting for the first time ever. So of course, it must be story time.

This story starts last Friday, when Mum, Dad, and my compound bow and I got in a car and drove south for longer than I’ve ever wanted to.

Five hours after we set out, we arrived in southern Oregon, and we visited the couple whose property we were hunting on. We kicked around outside the house, waiting for our hosts. My dad noticed some oddly featured wooden heads poking out of the couple’s garden. Recognizing a chance to amuse himself, he called Sam, one of our travelling buddies who came in another vehicle, over to his side and asked, “What do you think about these?” Sam obliged my dad with a few lines about the possibility of the heads being full bodies buried very deeply.

Then he continued, “you know, cos we’re probably Orcs to them. We come with fire, we come with axes,” he slipped into a British accent, “Gnawing, biting, breaking, hacking, burning…”

My parents, though not really geeks, definitely know a geeky reference when they hear one. I grinned and gave dad a knowing look.

See, on the drive over, we had been discussing our travelling partners: Rod, my dad’s New Zealand hunting buddy, and Sam, my dad’s producer, and, as we found out not long after we met him, a Lord of the Rings fanboy.

(And no. I would not let that fact go to waste.)

Five hours in a car provides you with more than enough time to explore the strange inner workings of the human mind, so it’s perfectly normal that I gave dad some odd advice for our upcoming adventure. I told him I had a buzzword for him to say when Sam was around. “If you say this, he will love you forever. Well, he may already love you, but this will help.”

“Okay, okay,” Dad humored me. “What was it again?”

“Mash ‘em, boil ‘em, stick ‘em in a stew.”

“Mash ‘em, boil ‘em, stick ‘em in a stew,” he repeated.

“Yes! And it would be best if you could say this when potatoes are nearby or something. Taters. Call them taters, and then say your line.”

“Okay.”

My dad’s a good guy.

His challenge accepted, I spent the rest of the trip trying to give dad meaningful looks whenever I thought he could say his line. Things got in the way pretty quick, though.

On this adventure, we stayed in a warm little house with no shortage of cozy blankets, DVDs, or Ritz crackers. My bed was right by the front door, and, to my delight, a convenient distance from the TV.

One thing you could not miss about the cabin was that it was incredibly charming, a word which here means, “lacking in indoor plumbing and had mousetraps littered around in a somewhat threatening manner.”

Okay, I thought to myself as I walked in. That’s fine. I’m adaptable.

When I first marked the startling lack of running water, I asked our guide where the restroom was and crossed my fingers that it was anything but a bush on the side of the house.

I was led to the backyard and directed to an outhouse.

Good, I thought. I thanked the guide and silently reminded myself how adaptable I was.

Just for the record, it’s easy to think that you’re adaptable until you lock yourself in a bathroom with a bat whom you have just awoken. We have to learn lessons somehow.

The next morning at 7:00, we set out on my hunt.

As we were stalking around in the forest with my bow, I figured it was a good time to pretend I was Katniss. This didn’t last very long, because judging by the way I stomped down the path in my massive hiking boots, I was a bit too Peeta-like. I briefly considered Legolas, but if that were the case, my hair would have turned out much better than it had that morning.

Actually, come to think of it, as far as my hair was concerned, Merida would have been a far better comparison.

But anyway, it was hard to concentrate on make-believe between the nervousness of my first bow hunt, the prayers for an animal to show up, and the constant mental singing from the song stuck in my head (Want to get it stuck in your head too?).

It was a very long hike. Thank goodness for my lungs, Rod stopped every five minutes to haul out his binoculars and stare with intensity at nothing in particular. Sam would trot up next to him and ask, “What do your Elf eyes see?” (The reference was lost on him, but it was still not wasted)

Eventually, those Elf eyes spotted a Corsican ram, standing thirty-two yards away. I thanked the Lord, drew my bow, and, by some miracle, we were cleaning out the animal thirty minutes later.

(I didn’t shoot the animal through the eye socket, though. Katniss still has much to teach me.)

When we got back, we told my mum the news in between desperate gasps for air ( thank you, half-hour, uphill hike), and then Rod fixed us a fabulous breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, and hashbrowns.

Hashbrowns.

You know,

My dad saw his chance. He grabbed his plate and sprang into action. “Mash ‘em…” he said. “Boil ‘em…”

Sam beamed. “Stick ‘em in a stew!”

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Trailer Breakdown of The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug

12 Jun

Last December, the first part of The Hobbit hit theaters, and minds everywhere exploded. Mainly due to the fact that they would have to wait a year for the next one. Well, friends? The wait is over.

Well, not over. In fact, the preview is finally out, so that might make the wait harder. But, hey, here’s to six more months! If you have not seen it yet, you can watch the official teaser for The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug here. For everyone else, let’s talk about this trailer.

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Paramount Pic – Wait, no, this is a shot from the film. Forget I said anything.

“Where does your journey end?”

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“You seek that which would bestow upon you the right to rule.”

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“The quest to restore a homeland and slay a dragon.”

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You know that’s right. Is it just me, or does Thorin look a little less glamorous than the internet made him out to be last December? Six months of hiatus will do that to a character. Also, fighting Orcs and living in caves. Hair is probably the least of his worries. He and Loki should meet up and talk it out.

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The barrel scene!
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The treetop scene!

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The barrel scene!
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Tarzan-esque Elves scene?
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(That’s beyond our borders. You must never go there, Simba.)

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An Elf draws his bow. It’s really time for this Elf/Dwarf hostility to end. It’s getting us no –

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“Do not think I won’t kill you, Dwarf.”

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

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Massive demon bear?Hob_14

Chill out everyone, the Hobbit has a toothpick sword.
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Arwen! You’re looking fabulously intense, as usual. **UPDATE: Nope. False alarm, it’s a brand-new Elf chick. This is not the Elf you’re looking for, move along.
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“It is not our fight.”

“It is our fight.”

Well, that settles that. Good talk, guys.

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Treat yourself to this shot of Bilbo sliding down a hill of gold coins, Scrooge McDuck style.Hob_18

“What if it’s a trap?”

“It’s undoubtedly a trap.”

It gives me great joy to see Magneto and the Seventh Doctor talking things over.

What? This movie is a LOTR/X-Men/Sherlock/Doctor Who crossover, isn’t it?

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That’s a quality word. They should put it in the title.
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“Such is the nature of evil. In time, all foul things come forth.”

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Oh, good, everyone’s least favorite subplot character! Hob_22

 Yes. All my yes. This scene, right here, this is going to be epic.

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Care to expound?
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“If you awaken that beast,”

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“You will destroy us all.”

… Will Turner? Who’s manning the Flying Dutchman?
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“I wonder if this movie’s going to be shot in 3D?”

~No one ever
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“Was that an earthquake?”

“That, my lad,”

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Yeah, take your sweet time turning around, Balin. It’s not like any of us are in mortal danger.
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“Was a dragon.”

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December 13th, 2013. Hob_35

Come on, Sherlock Smaug, John Bilbo has a lot more reason to be cross with you than you with him. He just wants to be your friend.Hob_36“I don’t have ‘friends.'”

An Ode to Story-telling

8 Feb

Normally, if I told you I spend a great deal of time hanging with people who are not real, feeling sorry for imagined tragedies, or planning a wedding for two fake people who don’t even like each other [yet], you would probably want to have me institutionalized. But somehow, if I told you it was because I’ve been reading a lot, that’s okay.

It’s no secret that I like fiction. I think a bit of nonsense keeps you interesting, and it most definitely keeps your imagination in good shape. Imagination is a beautiful thing, and if left unattended, it will atrophy and turn into belly fat (that’s my suspicion, anyway; don’t take that piece of information to the bank).

One of my favorite things about fiction is that even though everyone knows it’s fake, it has the power to draw people in and make them feel very real feelings. It stretches one’s imagination and takes it on adventures it never would have thought of embarking on otherwise. So basically, I like to think of fiction as the Gandalf of literature and/or television. An emotionally unbalanced, shape-shifting Gandalf.

This is literally the best metaphor I can come up with right now.

Don’t judge. This is the best metaphor I can come up with right now.

I remember the first time a book made me cry, and it was not pretty. Not far into Ella Enchanted,I ran to my mom sobbing out what I believed to be a good excuse to keep her up at night. I’m not certain if she understood a single word I said, but she toughed it out until I was convinced that  Ella’s mother’s death had no real effect on me.

I ran in crying again about five minutes later, because intellectual reasons to stop crying were not enough for me.

Did I mention my mother is a saint?

Anyhow, my point is, no matter how fictional a story is, how the reader or viewer reacts to it is what matters, and that is as real as anything. That’s why we love stories. We are not robots, we have minds, and we have feelings! We – actually, I’m gonna let the good Doctor take this one:
are you proud

I'm proud

they hurt

ohyes

sounds like someone’s been watching Moffat.

We will not stop imagining.

Long live stories and the adventures they may take us on!