“Hey, if Sauron wants to watch TV, let him.”
I watch the orange balloon with the giant eye scrawled over it in Expo marker bobble around, its eye facing the projector we are using to watch a movie. In a perfect world, the tape attaching this “Sauron balloon” to the ceiling would ensure it was angled so it glared down at the party guests. As it is, the balloon keeps moving around or dropping.
It’s August of 2018, and I am a senior in college. My major is writing, and ninety percent of the students are fantasy or science fiction fans. So, once a semester, we hold a themed retreat to enjoy snacks, games, and stage workshops about things like First-Time Fantasy Worldbuilding. Previous years had staged Star Wars retreats, Harry Potter retreats, superhero/supervillain retreats, pirate retreats, etc. It was inevitable we would eventually choose the most famous fantasy series of all time.
The following are my memories of the retreat’s prep and the main event, as recorded at the time. Details have been merged to fill in the gaps.
All names have been removed to preserve people’s dignity. And because, while Kurt Vonnegut may have been correct that the innocent have nothing to fear because angels protect them as a matter of routine,* I do not wish to test that theory in the courts.
Memory 1: Before we start decorating, we learn one of us has never seen the VeggieTales spoof The Lord of the Beans. Since we are all millennials raised in Protestant homes, almost all products of homeschooling or private Christian schools, the shock is palpable. Someone rectifies the situation and puts The Lord of the Beans on the screen as we work. It is equally fun today as it was when I first saw it around age 12.
We laugh at the parody names (Bilboy Baggypants, his friend the wizard Randalf, Bilboy’s nephew Toto, and sharp-shooting elf Legolamb). We laugh at lines that deliberately spoof lines from the Lord of the Rings movies. “Foul creatures,” Randalf intones as the screen shows metal poured into a waffle iron, “who fear nothing…. Half-spoon, half-fork.” Yes, the villains are sporks.
You get the idea. The person who said she had never seen it is laughing the most.
Memory 2: As we decorate, I attempt to draw the White Tree of Gondor on a chalkboard. The branches look like tentacles. Fortunately, someone removes it and draws a recognizable tree.
Memory 3: Someone brings snacks to place on one of the side tables. One item is a punch bowl with the label “orc blood.” The next morning, the bowl is filled almost to the brim with bright red soda.
Memory 4: The time for the festivities to commence has arrived. People come in dressed as Tolkien characters. A nonconformist enters holding a sign with a picture of Sauron’s eye on it as a costume (they will henceforth be known as Sauron Sign Holder). One or two people joke about not irritating Sauron, or there will be consequences. A friend of mine, dressed as a dwarf, thrusts out her chin at Sauron Sign Holder, and yells, “I don’t care, fight me!”
Memory 5: “I think I’m a dwarf in real life,” my friend dressed as a dwarf (henceforth Dwarf) comments a few minutes later. “I’m short, I’m grumpy, and I like to live in darkness.”
Memory 6: Halfway through the retreat, chaos erupts at the orc blood punch bowl. I detect people moving around behind me. When I look, I see several people hunched on the ground, sopping the orc blood up. Their paper towels aren’t of the highest quality, but they contain and shrink the red puddle on the floor.
I look at Dwarf, seated nearby.
“Alright,” I say. “What did you do? Where’s the body?”
Dwarf shakes her head, “No, no, not me. You know I always clean up my murders.”
Memory 7: Sauron Sign Holder passes by holding a cup of coffee stirrers. “One for the dwarves…” he says as he tosses one to Dwarf.
Memory 8: One of the best-customed individuals, a fellow dressed in full Gandalf regalia (henceforth Gandalf Guy), experiences a beard malfunction. Gandalf Guy leans back in his chair while his girlfriend, dressed as a woodland elf, adjusts his beard.
“Don’t disturb the wizard when he’s getting his facelift,” Gandalf Guy warns when I ask him a question.
Memory 9: Side conversations abound throughout the evening, covering everything from Lord of the Rings trivia to roommate problems. Sometimes I understand the references, sometimes not. At one point, I hear the following statement from the far corner: “We’re not living in a medieval feudal society!”
“I would feud with you on that,” someone dressed as a hobbit responds.
Memory 10: Despite our repeated efforts to replace the Sauron balloon’s tape, the balloon escapes. It plummets to the floor.
“You’ve destroyed Sauron!” Gandalf Guy declares as it hits the floor. “That’s more efficient than Frodo ever was.”
“Does this mean I get to keep the ring?” a person dressed as Bilbo asks.
Memory 11: Sauron Sign Holder gets tired of holding the sign and sticks it onto his shirt pocket. “Your eye is coming out of your pocket,” someone observes.
Memory 12: Someone stole one of Dwarf’s swords and ran to the other side of the room. Dwarf stands and walks ominously across the room.
“We steal with love,” the thief protests as Dwarf takes the sword back.
“You steal with love. We take back with force,” Dwarf replies.
Memory 13: After various presentations, we transition to games. We start with a Lord of the Rings version of Mafia, the game which involves establishing and killing someone.
“All in favor of killing the fun one?” someone asks.
Memory 14: The undisputed highlight of the retreat is at the end when one uses a projector for participants to do a dancing competition. Things peak when Sauron Sign Holder and Gandalf Guy dance to “24K Magic” by Bruno Mars. Gandalf Guy stumbles a little because he won’t put down his staff, but stays upright. “I’m still a spry wizard!” he grumbles.
The notebook contains a few other memories.
Inside jokes that don’t translate outside a college community.
Comments whose context I’ve long since forgotten—why did someone say “when intentional community leads to warfare”?
Every time I return to my notes, I remember that strange thing that happens when a community of Lord of the Rings nerds gets together. Sometimes it’s hilarious. Sometimes it’s bizarre. Frequently, it’s a snapshot of what a community can be at its best.
*The Kurt Vonnegut quotation is from the dedication to Bagombo Snuff Box: Uncollected Short Fiction (pg. vii, G.P. Putnam’s Sons, 1999).