[Azaelia of Willowbottom]

I remember one night from a good three years ago or more, now. It was one of those perfect summer nights, you know the ones: the air was clear and cool--neither too warm, nor too cold. We lived at that time in the country. I'd been in a Tolkien mood (when am I not?), and there was just something about the quality of the evening that made anything possible.

My brother and I brought the book outside, and I had my little flashlight along. We sat on the deck under that expanse of sky. I read Bilbo's poem about Earendil aloud, and something about the moment really fell into place. Everything was words and breeze and sky and stars. I can't say I was moved to tears by it, but I've got chills just thinking about that night. It was a rare moment for my brother and I--instead of being off with our own interests, we were truly together in one moment for the first time in a long time.

It was as if the boundaries between Middle-earth and our own world had, for one single moment of clarity, ceased to exist.