Do Dragons Monologue?

 

I started last week by watching The Fellowship of the Ring and The Two Towers. I ended the week by watching The Desolation of Smaug. As you might guess, I have Tolkien on the brain, and some observations about the movie. If you’ve watched it, I hope you find them amusing. If not, well—I’m trying to avoid spoilers.

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First, how can a movie change absolutely everything about a story and still be the story?

Second, is it okay to laugh through an entire fight scene?

Is it more or less okay when the orcs are losing their heads right and left? I’ll admit that I was slightly worried about seeing Legolas again. It seemed such a perfect chance to ruin things, but somehow he tops even skateboarding on a shield. And, I’ll never underestimate Bombur with a barrel again.

To go back to the orcs, however—as was shown in the Lord of the Rings, some orcs simply cannot be killed, no matter what. In my opinion, Dark Lords would be better served by spawning those orcs in fewer quantities than by spawning prodigious hordes of red-shirt orcs. I could be mistaken, though, since it might just be the difference in technique when one is fighting a single orc rather than a whole gang of them.

What about ADHD dragons who can’t decide which dwarves to chase first? Sure, Smaug showed a lot of inconsistencies, but he did have a lot going on after years of boredom. And, he obviously has trouble making up his mind. It’s no surprise, then, that he has unfinished business to distract him at crucial moments.

On the other side of things, with apparently too much time on his hands, we have Thranduil. All I’m going to say on that score is—if Thranduil and the rest of the elf army should flake out again and end up MIA for the battle of five armies, everything will still be okay. Legolas and Tauriel can be an army by themselves.

Speaking of Tauriel, I’m not going to complain about that particular change. It hardly seems important after some of the other changes. I understand some people just want to see more strong female characters, and others can’t stand a story without a romance plot of some kind. To be strictly honest, though, adding Tauriel hardly passes the Bechdel test, while as for the romance story…

No, I’m more upset about that whole morgul arrow thing, because…what am I supposed to think? That Aragorn learned his herb-lore from ‘watching’ this version of the quest? I can just picture the scene, when Gandalf and Bilbo finally make it back to Rivendell:

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(As Bilbo finishes the story, probably related to him by Oin or Bofur…)

Elrond: “What? The dwarves knew about athelas?”

Gandalf: “It’s true, Elrond. I hardly believed it myself, though lucky for them that one at least had some sense to find the plant before it was too late.”

Elrond: “But how did they learn of it? Dwarves do not usually care to study such matters. Aragorn, go ask Arwen if she told one of the dwarves about athelas.”

Aragorn: “She didn’t, uncle Elrond—I did. At least, he heard about the library and wanted me to show him, and he saw your scrolls on healing craft. He told me all about the mines of Khazad-dum, too. Is it true that the dwarves woke something in the deep places, with their digging?”

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I mean, if Peter Jackson can do it, I can too. (The only thing I’m holding against him right now is how he makes the story just slightly less magical—I insist upon having a talking thrush or raven or something.)

Finally, as for whether or not dragons monologue—of course they do! It must be lonely living alone in a cave for hundreds of years with a mound of treasure. Besides, dragons are the sort of creature that would love the sound of their own voices. Such a rich, golden sound it is, too…

Deadpan Fiction & Dragons

Recently, I was thinking about how deadpan humor might be like fiction writing. As always, thinking is dangerous…

(I also have dragons too much on the brain.)

So, how would deadpan humor like fiction? According to most definitions, deadpan humor comes when someone relates something rather funny, or outrageously impossible, in a matter-of-fact, serious manner.

Perhaps you could contrast deadpan writers with those who do include a wink-wink signal in their story—something in tone that says…

“And wow—that’s when the dragon showed up! (Yes, I know there aren’t any such thing as dragons, but really I was just as surprised as you. Humor me, because I’m trying to tell a story.)”

Done right, it can be quite good indeed, though it’s not the style I usually use.

In fact, when I write, or tell a joke for that matter, I like to be serious about it. I might even be too serious—given the rough draft of a novel I’ve been rereading. I can also be a bit random, which is why I wrote this instead of actually working on my novel…
 

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“Last Tuesday was a bad day for me. I spent the morning trying to clean out the garage—everything I’d thrown in there since last winter—and that took me almost until noon. Then, once it started to look like a reasonable place again, I remembered that shopping run.
 

I checked my watch—11:38. Just time to pick up a few groceries and be back for lunch.
 

I was driving down the long hill when something flashed by me. I felt a lurch, and a crash, and my car spun once. As I smashed the brakes, it skidded and flew like a brick into the ditch. It settled slightly, before nosing against a tree with a dark crunch.

I sat frozen, clutching the steering wheel.
 

In my peripheral vision, I saw the blue car disappearing around the bend, followed by another flash. Black-and-white—a police car. A second, third, fourth followed. Then another and another, sirens muted, but lights flashing crazily.
 

Then everything was still. I stared straight ahead, noticing how one of the tree branches mirrored the crack in my windshield.
 

“Great,” I said. “Just great.”
 

Slowly, the smell of hot oil roused me. I shook myself, looked around, and tried my door handle. It opened, and I stepped out.
 

As I stood staring at the car, a police car pulled up behind me. The officer got out, leaving his door ajar and hurrying toward me.
 

“Everyone okay?” he asked. “Were you the only one in the car?”
 

“Yes,” I said.
 

“Are you okay?” he repeated.
 

I shook myself and looked away from the car, meeting his eyes almost accidentally. “I’m fine. I just don’t know…” I looked back at my car, listing against the tree.
 

“It’s okay. I’ll call a tow truck. Do you remember what happened?”
 

I told him I was just driving to the store, when out of nowhere…
 

He had his notebook out, jotting in it quickly, but he raised one eyebrow. Somehow the gesture made me feel simultaneously that he wasn’t surprised by my story, and that he didn’t really believe it. I wondered if he'd been trained for that expression.
 

“There were I don’t know how many police cars. I’m glad you stopped,” I added.
 

“Yeah—let me call that tow truck,” he said.
 

He was back a couple minutes later, with another series of questions, and a form for me to fill out. The form had questions about my insurance company’s information, my personal information, my car’s personal information…
 

“You’ll need to fill that out and mail it in,” he said. “I’ll just ask you a couple questions right now.”
 

About twenty minutes later, he was still asking questions when I heard the truck engine grinding up the hill. We both looked up and watched as the tow truck lumbered around the bend and swung off onto the opposite shoulder.
 

The driver got out and waved to us, before heading around to the back of the truck. In another moment, he reappeared and headed across the road.
 

That’s when the dragon showed up.
 

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[In the next chapter, which doesn’t exist, the tow truck driver explains that while dragons prefer coal, they can’t find any in this region, so they prefer motor oil…
 

“You should have seen our garage the last time one showed up—it was an inferno.”
 

“Oh,” I managed to say, as we peered over the logs. I cringed as a heavy crunch sounded through the overhanging branches. I know my car as already wrecked, but still…
 

“This one probably smelled the leakage from your car,” the driver added helpfully...]