Something resonates deep within my soul every time a crack open the majestic book by J.R.R. Tolkien. It calls to me like the mysterious music of the Ainur that still lingers on the waves of the sea. I feel that it summons me to a higher life - a life of quality, excellence and grandeur, where friends share lives using the High Speech of Tolkien, or sacred scriptures, and within every twig or fallen leaf is the pulsing power of the Holy Spirit that transfigures dross and quickens the dead.
I’m convinced that if any of us were to live in Middle Earth, we would walk around wide-eyed and flabbergasted for a couple of years, and then we would become inoculated towards its mystery and grandeur. I say that because I believe our sojourn through this world is charged with the same kind of majesty and mystique as the Fellowship’s journey and epic confrontations with the powers that threaten it.
I have found Tolkien’s story to be so moving because of its ability to open my eyes to this sort of reality in our own world. I've started from the beginning of this story I’ve read several times, but have jumped forward and read "The Passing of the Grey Company" twice already. I long to be Halbarad, who carries with him a humility and simplicity of the Ranger, but the regal presence of one who holds the weight and splendor of the Númenóreans. What kind of character walks with this grand heritage on his shoulders and yet looks at one of the Hobbits and says, "A little people but of Great worth are the Shire-folk. Little do they know of our long labour for the safe-keeping of their borders. Yet, I grudge it not." There's a lot behind that statement.
