Reading The Lord of the Rings feels like reading a history book. Never in my life have I read a novel and turned the pages to look at maps and at indexes, or scour the Internet for background information. Never in my life have I felt reading a novel is a serious business, that skipping a paragraph means missing a fun part, an important piece of information, or a snippet of a great work of art. I admire the genious mind of J.R.R Tolkien. I think all authors are great artists, and going through their books is comparable to walking into a maze with amazing decorations and mysterious turns, but The Lord of the Rings offers something well beyond all that. I got lost so many times when they spoke of names, such as “Aragorn son of Arathorn”, “Frodo son of Drogo”, or “Legolas, a messenger from his father, Thranduil, the King of the Elves of Northern Mirkwood.” I mean, HOW ON EARTH THERE ARE SO MANY PEOPLE?
I usually think of how people are remembered, and sometimes it makes me sad. I have a friend whose sister was well known, and for a long time my friend was called as “the sister of ___.” I have never been called that way since I’m a big sister in my family, but I imagine myself to be pressured and sad when coming after someone so great. This is what I think of when I read The Lord of the Rings. My favorite character is Aragorn, and he is the descendant of probably the most powerful line of Men. Yet, I remember he was so timid, so scared. After all the wicked things his People had done, we was afraid that he was also wicked from his blood, and that if he wasn’t careful with his choices, he would betray his friends and do the wrongdoings against his moral sense. Everyone looks up to him. Everyone expects him to rule over the Middle-Earth, either to bring justice or evil. Everyone thinks he should be greater than a Ranger–a wanderer and a hunter. Because before his name, Aragorn, there was the name of Arathorn, of Isildur, of Númenor.
All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.
Aragorn the King will again be King. He will be mighty over his people. My friend will be great as she is. My sister will excel in more ways than my family could ever foreseen. Everyone is a shadow once, but soon enough we will all be strong as who we are. Good luck, friends.