And Il�vatar spoke to Ulmo, and said: 'Seest thou not how here in this little realm in the Deeps of Time Melkor hath made war upon thy province? He hath bethought him of bitter cold immoderate, and yet hath not destroyed the beauty of thy fountains, nor thy clear pools.
Behold the snow, and the cunning work of frost! Melkor hath devised heats and fire without restraint, and hath not dried up thy desire nor utterly quelled the music of the sea. Behold rather the height and glory of the clouds, and the everchanging mists; and listen to the fall of rain upon the Earth! And in these clouds thou art drawn nearer to Manwe, thy friend, whom thou lovest.'

Certainly! Below are three rewritten versions of the passage in the style of modern English Bible translations. Each version emulates the tone, structure, and vocabulary style typical of a different translation:

---

### **1. New International Version (NIV) Style:**

> And Il�vatar said to Ulmo, �Do you not see how, in this small corner deep within Time, Melkor has waged war against what I have given into your care? He has conceived bitter and excessive cold, yet he has not destroyed the beauty of your springs or the clarity of your still waters.
>
> Look at the snow, and the intricate work of frost! Melkor has unleashed fire and scorching heat without measure, yet your longing remains unquenched, and the music of the sea still endures.
>
> Consider the majesty of the clouds and the ever-changing mists; listen to the sound of rain falling upon the earth. In these things, you are drawn closer to Manw�, your friend, whom you love.�

---

### **2. English Standard Version (ESV) Style:**

> Then Il�vatar spoke to Ulmo and said, �Do you not perceive how, in this narrow realm in the depths of Time, Melkor has contended against your dominion? He has imagined for himself a cold most bitter and without measure, and yet he has not undone the loveliness of your fountains, nor dimmed the purity of your pools.
>
> Behold the snow, and the artistry of the frost! Melkor has kindled fire and heat unrestrained, but he has not consumed your longing, nor has he silenced the song of the sea.
>
> Look rather to the glory of the clouds and the ever-shifting mists; hear the rain as it falls upon the earth. In these things, you are brought near to Manw�, your friend, whom you love.�

---

### **3. New Living Translation (NLT) Style:**

> And then Il�vatar said to Ulmo, �Can�t you see what Melkor has done, even in this small part of the deep reaches of Time? He�s attacked the things I entrusted to you. He created a bitter cold, beyond reason�but still, the beauty of your fountains and your clear waters remain.
>
> Just look at the snow, and the incredible design of frost! He�s poured out fire and heat without control, but even that hasn�t quenched your longing or silenced the music of the sea.
>
> Look instead at the clouds�their height and splendor�and the mist that constantly shifts. Listen to the rain falling on the earth! In these things, you are drawn close to Manw�, your dear friend, whom you love.�


---

Let me know if you'd like one in the King James Version (KJV) style as well, or perhaps even a paraphrased version like *The Message*.

Certainly! Here's the rewritten passage in the **King James Version (KJV)** style, emulating its formal, elevated Early Modern English tone and characteristic phrasing:

---

### **King James Version (KJV) Style:**

> And Il�vatar spake unto Ulmo, and said,
> �Seest thou not how, in this small realm, deep within the courses of Time, Melkor hath lifted up his hand against thy dominion? For he hath conceived a cold most bitter and immoderate; yet hath he not marred the beauty of thy fountains, neither hath he defiled the clearness of thy pools.
>
> Behold the snow, and the curious workmanship of the frost! Yea, Melkor hath kindled heat and fire without restraint; yet thy desire abideth still, and the music of the sea he hath not utterly silenced.
>
> Consider now the height and the majesty of the clouds, and the ever-shifting mists; and hearken unto the rain as it falleth upon the earth. For in these things thou art drawn nigh unto Manw�, thy friend, whom thou lovest.�

Absolutely! Below is the same conversation between Il�vatar and Ulmo, adapted into two contrasting modern journalistic styles: **Fox News** and **BBC**. Each version preserves the core message while reflecting the editorial voice, tone, and stylistic tendencies associated with each outlet.

---

### **(a) Fox News Style: Bold, Emotive, and Confrontational**

> **Il�vatar Calls Out Melkor�s Assault on Creation�Says Ulmo�s Waters Still Stand Strong**
>
> In a powerful moment deep in the timeline of creation, Il�vatar delivered a clear message to Ulmo�one of the chief Valar�calling out Melkor�s aggressive overreach.
>
> �Just look at what Melkor�s done,� Il�vatar said. �Right here, in this small realm of Time, he�s declared war on your domain. He�s brought extreme cold�completely out of balance. But guess what? He still hasn�t destroyed the beauty of your fountains. He couldn�t even cloud the clarity of your pools.�
>
> Il�vatar highlighted how, even with Melkor unleashing chaos�heat, fire, destruction�the deeper order remains. �He tried to burn it all down, but he failed. Your passion endures. The music of the sea still resounds.�
>
> And in a closing note of unity, Il�vatar turned Ulmo�s attention toward hope: �Look to the skies. The majesty of the clouds, the shifting mists�listen to the rain falling on the earth. These are signs that you are still close to Manw�, your trusted friend.�
>
> A striking reminder that no matter the extremism of Melkor, the design of creation holds firm.

---

### **(b) BBC Style: Formal, Balanced, and Measured**

> **Il�vatar Addresses Ulmo on Melkor�s Disruption of the Natural Order**
>
> In a reflective exchange from the early history of Arda, Il�vatar spoke with Ulmo, the Vala associated with water, expressing concern over Melkor�s ongoing interference with the established harmony of creation.
>
> �Have you not observed,� Il�vatar began, �how, even in this small part of the great depths of Time, Melkor has turned against the realm entrusted to you?� He noted that Melkor had introduced extreme cold�described as �bitter� and �without moderation��in an apparent attempt to undermine Ulmo�s influence.
>
> Nevertheless, Il�vatar pointed out that such efforts had not been entirely successful. �The beauty of your fountains remains,� he said, �and the clarity of your pools endures.�
>
> He continued by acknowledging the complexity of the situation: �Consider the snow, and the intricate patterns formed by frost. Melkor has also unleashed unchecked heat and fire, but these have not quenched your longing, nor have they silenced the sea�s music.�
>
> Il�vatar concluded with a message of reconciliation and perspective: �Look to the clouds above�their height and splendour, the shifting mists�and listen to the falling rain. In these things, you are drawn close once more to Manw�, your companion and friend.�
>
> The comments suggest that while Melkor�s disruptions are significant, the deeper harmony of creation remains intact.

---

Would you like the same conversation rendered in other styles, such as *The Guardian*, *NPR*, or *The New York Times*?

Great question. The original Tolkien passage from *The Silmarillion*�rich in elevated diction, mythopoetic tone, and formal, archaic structure�is quite distinctive. However, there are a few notable texts that closely resemble it in **style**, **tone**, and **literary ambition**. Here are three of the most stylistically similar texts in the corpus:

---

### **1. The King James Bible (1611)**

* **Why it�s similar:**
Tolkien deliberately echoes the rhythm, grammar, and elevated diction of the King James Version (KJV) throughout *The Silmarillion*, especially in its more formal or divine utterances. The KJV�s use of �hath,� �seest,� and other archaic forms is mirrored in Tolkien�s divine speech patterns. The cadence, parallel structure, and theological gravity also align closely.

* **Stylistic Traits:**

* Archaic English
* Formal, solemn tone
* Heavy use of parallelism and metaphor
* Direct divine speech and cosmological narrative

---

### **2. *The Prose Edda* by Snorri Sturluson (13th century, Icelandic mythology)**

* **Why it�s similar:**
As a scholar of Norse mythology and language, Tolkien drew heavily on this source. The *Prose Edda* shares *The Silmarillion*'s mythic storytelling structure, cosmic scale, and a formal, saga-like tone. Descriptions of elemental forces, gods� conversations, and the shaping of the world bear strong stylistic resemblance.

* **Stylistic Traits:**

* Epic narrative with mythic overtones
* Dialogue between gods
* Descriptions of primal forces (fire, ice, sea)
* A tone of sacred authority

---

### **3. *Paradise Lost* by John Milton (1667)**

* **Why it�s similar:**
Tolkien admired Milton, and both *Paradise Lost* and *The Silmarillion* grapple with themes of rebellion, divine hierarchy, and the nature of evil. Milton�s grand, elevated diction, theological density, and cosmic scale are very much in line with Tolkien�s style in this passage�especially the dialogue between divine beings.

* **Stylistic Traits:**

* Elevated, poetic diction (even in prose summaries)
* Formal theological rhetoric
* Grand cosmological vision
* Archaizing syntax and Latinate structure

---

Would you like passages from these texts compared side by side with Tolkien�s for stylistic analysis? Or are you looking for modern writers who adopt a similar tone?

Absolutely�here is the Tolkien passage rewritten as **unrhymed iambic pentameter**, the signature verse form of *Paradise Lost* (also known as **blank verse**). This version maintains the elevated tone and diction of Milton while adapting the divine dialogue into flowing, metrical lines.

---

### **Tolkien's Passage in Miltonic Blank Verse:**

> Then Il�vatar spake to Ulmo thus,
>
> �Hast thou not seen, within this bounded realm
> Where Time flows deep beneath the stars' first song,
> How Melkor wars against thy given charge?
> With thought perverse he fashioned bitter cold,
> Excessive, sharp, beyond all mortal use;
> Yet still thy fountains sparkle in their grace,
> Thy clear pools sing with light untouched by him.
>
> Behold the snow, the work of subtle frost,
> Whose art outstrips his wrath or malice blind.
> Behold the fire, unbridled, fierce, and wild,
> Poured forth without restraint upon the world�
> Yet still thy deep desire endures unquenched,
> Nor hath the sea�s long music been unmade.
>
> Lift up thine eyes and mark the vaulted sky,
> The clouds in splendor rise and shift and fade,
> And mists that wander with a secret grace.
> Attend the fall of rain on thirsty earth�
> In this thy voice is echoed from the heights.
>
> And by these signs, through storm and stillness both,
> Art thou drawn nigh to Manw�, friend and kin,
> Whom thou dost love, whose spirit soars with thine.�

---

This version preserves the original meaning while shaping it into the metrical and tonal mold of Milton�s epic voice. Let me know if you'd like it further annotated or accompanied by glosses explaining metrical choices.

Fey he seemed, or the battle-fury of his fathers ran like new fire in his veins, and he was borne up on Snowmane like a god of old, even as Orom� the Great in the battle of the Valar when the world was young. His golden shield was uncovered, and lo! it shone like an image of the Sun, and the grass flamed into green about the white feet of his steed. For morning came, morning and a wind from the sea; and darkness was removed, and the hosts of Mordor wailed, and terror took them, and they fled, and died, and the hoofs of wrath rode over them. And then all the host of Rohan burst into song, and they sang as they slew, for the joy of battle was on them, and the sound of their singing that was fair and terrible came even to the City.

Days passed and The Day drew nearer. An odd-looking waggon laden with odd-looking packages rolled into Hobbiton one evening and toiled up the Hill to Bag End. The startled hobbits peered out of lamplit doors to gape at it. It was driven by outlandish folk, singing strange songs: dwarves with long beards and deep hoods. A few of them remained at Bag End.

�The chapter is a largely unappreciated tour de force, whose success may be gauged by the fact that few pause to recognize its complexity. It breaks, furthermore, most of the rules which might be given to an apprentice writer. For one thing, though it is fifteen thousand words long, in it nothing happens: it consists entirely of people talking. For another, it has an unusual number of speakers present (twelve), the majority of them (seven) unknown to the reader and appearing for the first time. Just to make things more difficult, the longest speech, by Gandalf, which takes up close on half the total, contains direct quotation from seven more speakers, or writers, all of them apart from Butterbur and Gaffer Gamgee new to the story, and some of them (Saruman, Denethor) to be extremely important to it later on. Other speakers, like Gloin, give direct quotation from yet more speakers, Dain and Sauron�s messenger. Like so many committee meetings, this chapter could very easily have disintegrated, lost its way or simply become too boring to follow. The fact that it does not is brought about by two things: Tolkien�s extremely firm grasp of the history (as earlier of the geography) of Middle-earth; and his unusual ability to suggest cultural variation by differences in mode of speech.�

Prof Tom Shippey, (JRR Tolkien, Author of the Century)

Thank you for providing the passage! Now, I will re-write it in the styles of Ernest Hemingway, Herman Melville, H. Rider Haggard, and Henry James. Each re-imagining will capture the essence of the original passage, but will reflect the unique voice and approach of these authors. Let�s begin.

---

1. Ernest Hemingway

He felt it in his blood, the cold fire of the battle. Snowmane carried him through the smoke and the cries, his golden shield bare against the sun. It caught the light, bright as a flare. The horse�s hooves hammered the ground, and the soldiers of Mordor broke. They ran. Some died where they stood, others in the mud. The morning wind came from the sea, and the sun rose like a knife in the sky. And the men of Rohan sang then, as they fought. Their voices were loud, the sound of it strong and clear. They didn�t stop to think. They were fighters. They killed, and they sang because they could.

---

2. Herman Melville

There was an old fire in him, a flame passed down from the ancients. On Snowmane, he seemed not merely a man, but a god reborn, a scourge of fate itself. The gold of his shield flashed like the sun�s glare upon the brine, and the steed beneath him thundered over the field, as though in the presence of an indomitable force that none could withstand. The very earth seemed to quake beneath the unrelenting hoofbeats. And lo! The host of Mordor, fierce and ravenous as a tide, was swept away. The wind came howling from the sea, and with it, the light of morning scattered the dark. The enemy, those wretched souls, faltered and fled, their cries swallowed by the storm of wrath. And then, as if the battle was nothing but a brief and bitter prelude, the men of Rohan raised their voices in song�a song not of sorrow, but of fierce joy. The sound rang like thunder across the plains, its force felt even in the distant city, where it struck at the heart of every man who heard it.

---

3. H. Rider Haggard

The air crackled with the fury of the battle. He rode like some ancient hero, his form lit by the fire of a thousand battles fought in another age. Snowmane was a creature of legend, bearing him as though borne on the very winds of the gods. His shield, golden and unmarred by time, flared with the power of the sun itself, lighting the way for the warriors of Rohan. The ground quaked beneath the thundering hooves, and the legions of Mordor�those wretched spawn of darkness�fell before them. The morning wind, sent from the seas of old, cut through the shroud of night, and with it came the cleansing fire of daylight. The enemy�those vile creatures�were crushed beneath the weight of Rohan�s wrath. They ran, they died, and the land drank deeply of their blood. Yet the men of Rohan, unshaken, surged forward like wolves on the hunt, and as they struck down their enemies, their voices rose in song. It was a song of triumph, of joy, of death�and it rang out, savage and pure, until it echoed through the very walls of the city.

---

4. Henry James

There was an aspect to him that transcended the mere human�something almost divine, as though the primordial blood of his ancestors coursed anew through his veins. He was borne aloft on the steed Snowmane, an animal whose very presence seemed an emblem of a distant, mythic age, charged with a certain grandeur that stirred the soul. His shield, uncovered now, caught the light of morning, dazzling in its brilliance�a reflection of the sun itself. And as he rode, with the quiet certainty of a force unyielding, the earth beneath him seemed to tremble, as though nature itself, in the form of his gallant steed, conspired to carry him across the field of war. The men of Mordor, faced with this overwhelming force, faltered, their cries rising in disarray, and the morning wind, fresh and cleansing from the sea, swept away the dark veil of night. With that, the enemies of Rohan were scattered, their forms falling away like so many leaves in a storm. And then, in that moment of dreadful yet jubilant victory, the men of Rohan, with voices lifted in unison, broke into song. It was not merely a celebration of the victory, but an expression of something deeper, something primal�an echo of ancient joy and power. Their voices, both beautiful and terrible, soared across the battlefield, reaching even the distant city, where the air seemed to pulse with the reverberations of their song.

---

I hope these adaptations capture the distinct styles of each author! Let me know which one resonates with you, or if you'd like any adjustments!

Certainly! Here�s a version of the Tolkien passage rewritten to lower the reading age while keeping all the key details intact:

---

He felt the old power in him, the strength of his ancestors, burning like fire in his veins. He rode Snowmane like a hero from an ancient story, strong and fearless. His golden shield was bright and shiny, glowing like the sun. The grass turned green under the hooves of his horse, shining white against the earth. It was morning now, and the wind from the sea blew across the land. The darkness faded away, and the soldiers of Mordor cried out in fear. Terror swept over them, and they turned to flee, dying as they ran. The hooves of Rohan�s horses trampled over them.
Then, the warriors of Rohan began to sing. They sang as they fought, full of joy and excitement. Their voices were loud and clear, even reaching the city far away. It was a song of victory, and the sound was both beautiful and frightening, echoing through the land.

---

This version simplifies the language and structure but still maintains the core details of the original passage. Let me know if you'd like any further changes!

�Still she did not blench; maiden of the Rohirrim, child of kings, slender but as a steel-blade, fair yet
terrible. A swift stroke she dealt, skilled and deadly. The outstretched neck she clove asunder, and the
hewn head fell like a stone. Backward she sprang as the huge shape crashed to ruin, vast wings
outspread, crumpled on the earth; and with its fall the shadow passed away. A light fell about her and her
hair shone in the sunrise.
Out of the wreck rose the Black Rider, tall and threatening, towering above her. With a cry of hatred that
stung the very ears like venom he let fall his mace. Her shield was shivered in many pieces, and her arm
was broken; she stumbled to her knees. He bent over her like a cloud, and his eyes glittered; he raised his
mace to kill.
But suddenly he too stumbled forward with a cry of bitter pain, and his stroke went wide, driving into the
ground. Merry�s sword had stabbed him from behind...�

�On my naming day when I come 12 I gone front spear and kilt a wyld boar he parbly ben the las wyld pig on the Bundel Downs any how there hadnt ben none for a long time befor him nor I aint looking to see none agen. He dint make the groun shake nor nothing like that when he come on to my spear he wernt all that big plus he lookit poorly. He done the reqwyrt he ternt and stood and clattert his teef and made his rush and there we wer then. Him on 1 end of the spear kicking his life out and me on the other end watching him dy. I said, �Your tern now my tern later.� The other spears gone in then and he wer dead and the steam coming up off him in the rain and we all yelt, �Offert!�
The woal thing fealt jus that littl bit stupid. Us running that boar thru that las littl scrump of woodling with the forms all roun. Cows mooing sheap baaing cocks crowing and us foraging our las boar in a thin grey girzel on the day I come a man.�
Riddley Walker by Russel Hoban

He was grouchy, like my mom when I don't do homework and stuff. His horse did something, as if anyone cares what a stupid horse does. I think his morning alarm clock went off--what a jerk! Who gets up at sunrise unless he's a total loser and capitalist pig?!?!? Anyway, stuff happens, someone sings, the end.

So now we�re supposed to believe the Elves & Wizards � total disasters, by the way � when they say we can�t use the One Ring? Please. Maybe it�s too much for them, but that doesn�t mean it�s too much for US � the Men of Minas Tirith, the TRUE defenders of the West.

These so-called �wise� ones? More like scared and weak. Always have been. But WE are not afraid. We�ve been strong for YEARS, fighting the darkness. We never asked for the Ring � but it came to us, just when we needed it.

A TOTAL GIFT. The Ring is a gift to DESTROY Mordor � and we�re supposed to throw it away? That�s insanity. Only the strong win. The fearless. The tough.

And where�s Aragorn? Hiding in the woods? Sad! Boromir is ready. I�M ready. Give me the Ring and I will CRUSH the armies of darkness. People will follow � believe me � they always do.

Victory through POWER. We will MAKE GONDOR GREAT AGAIN!
[GondorFlagEmoji] [ShieldEmoji] [RingEmoji]

#MordorIsTheEnemy #UseTheRing #IsildurWasRight #MGGA�

When I pulled the trigger I did not hear the bang or feel the kick � one never does when a shot goes home � but I heard the devilish roar of glee that went up from the crowd. In that instant, in too short a time, one would have thought, even for the bullet to get there, a mysterious, terrible change had come over the elephant. He neither stirred nor fell, but every line of his body had altered. He looked suddenly stricken, shrunken, immensely old, as though the frightful impact of the bullet had paralysed him without knocking him down. At last, after what seemed a long time � it might have been five seconds, I dare say � he sagged flabbily to his knees. His mouth slobbered. An enormous senility seemed to have settled upon him. One could have imagined him thousands of years old. I fired again into the same spot. At the second shot he did not collapse but climbed with desperate slowness to his feet and stood weakly upright, with legs sagging and head drooping. I fired a third time. That was the shot that did for him. You could see the agony of it jolt his whole body and knock the last remnant of strength from his legs. But in falling he seemed for a moment to rise, for as his hind legs collapsed beneath him he seemed to tower upward like a huge rock toppling, his trunk reaching skyward like a tree. He trumpeted, for the first and only time. And then down he came, his belly towards me, with a crash that seemed to shake the ground even where I lay.

The joy of battle vs. Sam's dark view of war between Men in Ithilien. Does Tolkien endorse both, or is he just playing "BBC Reporter" here, because the Rohirrim feel joy as they slay, and he's reporting that?