 |  |
Tales of Middle Earth
(click on Legolas and Gimli to go to my stories)
In 1977, a wild black mare was born on the high desert of eastern Oregon (I'd meet her, and she would train me, in 1985), another "wild black mare" was launched at Inner Harbor Baltimore (I'd sail on her sister, on Halloween of 2007), Star Wars hit the screen, and a fellow fan dumped a pile of reading material into my hands. "You must read this," she intoned. I stared at the stack of verbiage and paled. Lo!, in my copious free time, somewhere in the next millenium. The epic tome was J.R.R. Tolkien's Lord of the Rings.
Somewhat later, I borrowed a tent from a second cousin twice removed, so I could spend a week on a desert island called Assateague. He told me about this game they played: D&D. I showed up, rolled up a character, waved the paper at the DM and said, "What do I make of this?"
"Play an Elf."
"What?" You mean like Hermie, in Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer?
"Read Lord of the Rings."
I did, in 1978. Thirty years, many fantasy illustrations, several "fanfics", essays and re-readings later, I'm still a fan of the original fantasy epic that spawned the rest (born the same year I was).
Somewhat later, I borrowed a tent from a second cousin twice removed, so I could spend a week on a desert island called Assateague. He told me about this game they played: D&D. I showed up, rolled up a character, waved the paper at the DM and said, "What do I make of this?"
"Play an Elf."
"What?" You mean like Hermie, in Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer?
"Read Lord of the Rings."
I did, in 1978. Thirty years, many fantasy illustrations, several "fanfics", essays and re-readings later, I'm still a fan of the original fantasy epic that spawned the rest (born the same year I was).
