Diary of an Elf is a reoccurring feature here on AliceAlways.com. Alice shares her story as her elf-self.
Since I knew that I might be in the closet of Elf Cabin Number 9 indefinitely, I looked around for ways to entertain myself. On a shelf high above my head, I found my personal Holy Grail: the fantasy novels of J.R.R. Tolkien.
We call him Master Tolkien, as he is known here to us elves at the North Pole. His writings inspire us greatly. They remind us that in our imaginations, we are not just short peeps with generally pleasant dispositions, but also tall, fierce warrior types as depicted in The Lord of the Rings trilogy.
As I said before, in your imagination, you can be whatever magical being you choose to be.
In the closet, I moved the rolling shelf ladder along the wall to the place where I could climb it and get the books. When I got to the top, I grabbed them. The books felt like magic in my hands.
My memory flew back many years to the first time that I held The Hobbit in my hands.
It happened in September 1973. I was 11 years old in the 6th grade and picked to be in a special reading group of students. Back in the day, teachers had to order books and wait weeks for their arrival to come in a big cardboard box.
I remember it like it was yesterday. Mrs. B had gathered us around the box and was handing out the paperbacks. On the cover was a top white area with the title, subhead, and the author’s name. Under that was an illustration of peeps (my word for people) riding on barrels down a winding river with trees on the riverbank.
Before she handed us our books, Mrs. B told us that this was an extraordinary book and that it came to us in a momentous time. The author had just passed away, she said and so reading it now would be extra special.
Wow, I thought, really not understanding the specialness on a conscious level. I knew somehow deep inside myself that this author J.R.R. Tolkien and I were connected.
After I was given the book, I turned it over to see a picture of the author, a profile image of a smiling grey-haired gentleman holding a pipe. An old building was in the background.
I opened the book and smelled it. I fell in love with the scent of words on paper. If you have never smelled a freshly printed book, you might want to try it. It is like nothing else in this world.
Throughout the school year, we read The Hobbit and the three The Lord of the Rings books in class.
I was thoroughly enchanted by Tolkien’s world of Middle Earth. I would think about it all the time. In my imagination, I envisioned myself as several of the characters.
I was a full-blown geek. I still am. I embrace my geekiness wholeheartedly.
After school had ended, I spent the summer rereading the trilogy. Then I started looking for more information about Tolkien and his work.
Back in the early seventies, resources for a preteen were far and in between.
At some point, I came across a writing of Tolkien’s in which he said wrote that he never felt that he had created Middle Earth, he was merely recording the events as they were happening somewhere else.
When I read that, I knew that to be true deep down in my soul. I also knew I had to do something in regards to this. I didn’t know what.
Now I do.
To be continued…
Always,
Alice Always the Elf
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