Click hereClick heresubscribe to rss feed

Welcome to TheOneRing.net Serving Middle-earth Since the First Age.

Background 'Rivendell' by Ted Nasmith

  • Navigation

  • Translator

    English flagItalian flagKorean flagChinese (Simplified) flagChinese (Traditional) flagPortuguese flagGerman flagFrench flagSpanish flagJapanese flagArabic flagRussian flagGreek flagDutch flagBulgarian flagCzech flagCroat flagDanish flagFinnish flagHindi flagPolish flagRumanian flagSwedish flagNorwegian flagCatalan flagFilipino flagHebrew flagIndonesian flagLatvian flagLithuanian flagSerbian flagSlovak flagSlovenian flagUkrainian flagVietnamese flagAlbanian flagEstonian flagGalician flagMaltese flagThai flagTurkish flagHungarian flag
  • News Archive

  • All News Categories

John Howe’s Journal: Many Meetings

Or the Ins and Outs of Tolkien Fandom

John Howe writes: Meeting Tolkien fans is invariably an engaging experience – occasionally delightful, sometimes moving, often a little scary – but never ordinary.

It’s not that they form an always identifiable body, like Trekkies – who I find a little frightening – I mean, to lavish such attention on costumes that look like something Yves Saint-Laurent binned as a bad idea in the 70’s is beyond me, and do we REALLY need more than one Mr. Spock ? – or the exuberant kaleidoscope of Star Wars fans. Tolkien fans come in many shapes, sizes and disguises, from über-serious comma-counters to elegant and flighty Elves. (I’ve just learned that there is debate amongst Star Trek fans as to the correct denomination; “Trekkers” being apparently preferred by those “Trekkies” who “have a life”. Why do I find this deeply perturbing?)

Some encounters with fans are quite striking. I was sitting once in a tiny wee book fair in deepest rural France, my mind absorbed with wondering what I was doing there and doing a complicated sketch in a book to pass the time, when, in the top corner of my vision, two enormous, Kong-like sets of hairy knuckles lowered themselves down on the table in front of me. I raised my eyes, which travelled up two chain-mail (!) clad forearms the size of my thighs, over a mantle of fur, to a hirsute face set off by quite startling eyes (or at least the glints I could make put under the beetling brows). “Sir Howe, I am Boern,” it rumbled. I nearly jumped out of my skin (until I remembered Beorn only ate honey.) Continue…

  • Share/Bookmark

This story is posted in the following categories: Fans, John Howe Comments Off . Please click on a category name to view all stories related to it.

You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.


120x90 Button 1
Go Fandango!


Want to Advertise? Learn More and Click here

Want to Advertise? Learn More and Click here