Today would have been J.R.R. Tolkien's 121st Birthday (3 January 1892 – 2 September 1973).
40 years ago, my dad handed me 4 books and said, you need to read these...
And I opened the first book and began with the words "In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit..."
Three days later, I had journeyed over mountains and under them, I had seen green lands and trolls turned to stone and magic rings, guessed at riddles in the dark, confronted dragons and survived battles...
Three days later I had laughed at fireworks, and hidden under tree roots from Ring Wraiths, and journeyed into wild lands and walked with elves and dwarves and wizards and men...
I had seen the incredible dwellings of the Elves - Rivendell and LothLorien, and wandered awestruck in the great underground ruined depths of Moria,
In three days time I had walked the great Halls of Edoras, and plunged into the cool depths of Fanghorn Forest,
I had looked out across the darkest battle field from the heights of the White Tower, and crawled every step of the wretched stairs to Minas Morgul...
I had struggled across the stinking plains of Mordor, and seen all hope dashed to dust and ruin in the Volcano of Gogoreth...and then risen upon the wings of Eagles to Hope unlooked for,
returned to rebuild the Shire and see it blossom, healed of all its hurts...
And finally on the third day I Journeyed at the last to the Grey Havens to see the last Ships sail into the West...
And then feeling as though I had just woken from a dream, I closed the last book on the words "Well...I'm back."
Then I shook myself from the trance and spell of the words...and turned back to the first book, and began it all over again...
And that is Love.
I can never repay Tolkien for the debt I owe him...he opened so many worlds for me, and shaped me and made me a great deal of what I am today. Thank you sir...may your words and your worlds live forever in our hearts!
