It has taken me a bit less than a week to read the first book of the LOTR trilogy, The Fellowship of the Ring. It means that I've spent long hours every day reading it (it is partly responsible for my yesterday's sunburn). It has completely absorbed me, to say the least. I mean, I knew the story, I've seen the movies, but what this book is doing to me right now - it's indescribable. It has been nothing short of a revelation. And I was not ready for it.

It may sound cheap and corny but Frodo's my man. I can relate to him, I can identify myself with him, I can understand him. And his story, his tale is really my story, my tale. It's really me who was awaken from her little sunny life in a remote corner of the world and was given the... well, the Burden, the Calling, the Cross to bear. I've set forth on a journey that is really far far beyond my own capacity and powers. And I'm small, especially these days I feel so very small. And the evil is powerful and getting more powerful yet. The task before me seems almost impossible. But despite all of that there are days of rest and revival on my way - times when I can renew my strength and get new hope. And the fellowship - yes, the fellowship! I, too, have my people, people who keep speaking words of life and encouragement into my heart, people who keep believing in me and in my task, who rekindle the dreams if they start fading. People whose love and support I really haven't deserved. And although I sometimes feel I'm not the right person for the Calling and that I keep falling short over and over again, there's the voice of the Good One, saying (through the words of Gandalf here), "You have some strength in you, my dear hobbit. I think well of you and the others. It is no small feat to have come so far, and through such dangers, still bearing the Ring." And on I go, on and on, day after day. Towards my fate and towards the Zion.

I'm sure some literary critic would shoot me after reading this. I'm not overtly worried about it. What is more important for me is that maybe, just maybe good ole Tolkien wouldn't. Maybe he'd smile, with a spark in his eye. Maybe he, too, has laboured and journeyed on the same Road.