When Your Heart Runs Away...
by WSJ

I was inspired to write this after reading a fic called "The Stuff of Life to Knit You". You really should look it up, especially if you are a true Tolkein fan, have read all the books, and have ever reinacted the War of the Ring in your back yard with your dog as the balrog and stick spears and swords. It is the stuff dreams are made of.

I don't own LotR, although it owns me.


When your heart runs away to live in the Shire,
What do you do?
How do you pull your head back down from the clouds,
And are you sure you really want to?

You could be a crazy fangirl,
Bent on winning Frodo or Legolas for your own.
You could be a lonely wanderer,
Simply looking for your home.

We come from every walk of life,
We've all found rain and sun.
We've all dreamed, at least once,
That with Elves or hobbits to run.

It's a wish of the spirit,
A longing in the soul,
A wound in the shoulder,
Knowing you can never go.

People may laugh, say 'It's only a book!'
But to us, it's more.
It's a real, *true* place, another world,
Though in ours it's only a bit of lore.

I've always wondered, maybe you have too:
Lord Tolkein got his ideas... Where?
The way it's written you'd think it was real, and he only observed.
Who knows, maybe he really *did* go there.

So the next time you dream of Mirkwood or other worlds,
Or fancy meeting your bookish heros,
Simply remember and heed my words:

You never know what is out there until you go and look.
And maybe, if you're as lucky as Tolkein,
You'll catch a fleeting glance of a Took.

When your heart runs away to dwell there forever,
Draw yourself to it, instead of pulling it back.
You could find yourself in Moria, or Rivendell.
And if you do, never come back,
But bring us with you!


Dedicated to all those who, like my father, have grown up Tolkein fans, and to those, like myself, who are the second generation, but if anything wish harder then the first.

To artists who fill their scetchbooks with nothing but Elves, dwarves and hobbits; not the flimsey, plastic movie versions, but the glorious, wonderful versions that appear in our heads whenever we open their book.

For those of us who truely believe that The Return of the King is not the end of the Fellowship, or of the Lord of the Rings, but only the beginning.

To the outcasts and dreamers, who fit in no where else except Middle-Earth.

And lastly, to my best friend, Rosie. I would do anything for her, and we have so many times fought orcs and balrogs in my backyard that we have taken to calling each other Frodo and Samwise. Agape Rosie!