I dedicate this to all my readers past and present. My haters, my nay-Sayers, and even my grumpy Year 10 English teacher who argued Legolas' age with me in front of the whole class. That was awesome.

We are all fans in this together.

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Do you remember your first time?

I guess I should narrow that down;

Do you remember your first time encountering Tolkien? Did you even know it was Tolkien? Was it Peter Jackson's movies? Or the books?

That is not rhetorical...please feel free to tell me...I like fangirling. I consider it a sport!

My first time was magical...utterly perfect. It was one of those 'eyes as big as moons' moments, were the world just gets the tiniest bit brighter.

I was roughly around twelve, it was dark out. I was in my room patiently attempting to extract my spice girls CD album to a tape, using my new CD/Cassette player. Yes, all you youngun's I made mix tapes. I believed that as long as I had a tape then I would always have a hard copy, because these CDs were just never going to do...how wrong was I?

Anyhoo, I finally got bored rewinding and fast forwarding just to get "2become1" perfectly timed with Aqua's "Doctor Jones," that I up and left, in search of more interesting endeavours. Little did I know my life was about to change forever...

Two minutes later I was rolling over the living room sofa engrossed in this amazing movie. My eyes were shining, my imagination was running riot, and the best part...Dad didn't make me go to bed.

It was movie night, and that means my parents sat down and watched a video - yes VHS - which they would have rented from the local xtravision (a blockbuster style video rental store). Usually I was too young to watch their selections, and I'd be relegated to my room with a Disney, or child friendly, VHS to watch on my own.

But this night - this night Dad had selected the newly released 'Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring.' Apparently the guys at work thought it was top notch, and well up his street. So, considering it was a PG, Mum allowed me to watch.

I had just walked in on the Mines of Moria sequence. I was transfixed by Gandalf, and the chubby hobbit, and I had always loved boys with long blonde hair (ever since Sully from Dr Quinn Medicine Wonan). So I reckoned blondie, with the wicked cool weapons, was going to be one to watch.

Fast forward a few scenes and I was lamenting my existence...THEY KILLED THE OLD MAN THAT REMINDED ME OF GRANDA! I should say, my Grandfather did not resemble Gandalf in the slightest, it was more my Granda was my favourite person in the world (still is, only he is off on new adventures now on that distant shore). So it was a big deal that I likened Gandalf to my very own magical wizard.

Oh the angst! Oh the travesty...tell me it ain't so?????

Wait...it's a book? Whaaaat? There is more than this? It's a trilogy?

I MUST OWN IT!!!!

That was exactly my thought process - easier said than done in my family. I was always buying books, reading books, building book forts. But my family were not big into that sort of fantasy. Mum was a Star Trek geek, and Dad was a history buff, they had never heard of Tolkien and thus I never had.  But I would change that!

A little while later I visited a bookstore, and discovered the three books that made up The Lord of the Rings. So I plucked them off the shelves and counted my pennies...sadly I didn't have enough. So I did what every self respecting twelve year old would do - I asked Grandma to buy me them.

"NO!" She roared, much to my disbelief , I had never been refused book money before. "This is heathen, evil, bad boys and girls read this."

Ehhh....over reaction much? I was not to be dissuaded, I was pretty confident that it wasn't evil. My obnoxiously religious Grandparents tend to overreact to most things, as it transpires she thought it was something to do with 'The Lord of the Flies." We have almost convinced her - thirteen years later - that LoTR is not from the underworld.

Now I had a new mission - find cheaper alternative to out of budget bookstore copies.

Solution - "Bargain Books."

I can not express to you in words, the happiness this store brings me. I have found countless gems, of pure starlight (sniggers), in the form of books in this marvellous place. Including, the battered copy of the LoTR you see above. Yes, that was my copy, and still is my only hard copy of the book.

So a few weeks later, I was carefully investigating the forgotten back shelves of Bargain Books. Doing my usual detective level hunting - from a young age I was trained to sniff out discounts. It was then I discovered it, the picture of the dark figures, cloaked in black rags, riding demon horses...like the horsemen of the apocalypse...and the writing...

"JRR TOLKIEN"

I screamed with delight, pulled it from the shelf, and discovered that it was within my means...AND IT WAS ALL THREE BOOKS IN ONE! I latched onto my mother, and shoved the book in her face;

"MUMMMMMYYYYY...I must have it!" I cried and gave my best needful look.

I will not lie, I was and still am quite taken with theatrics. I am often quite persistent in the pursuits of my desires. I have a habit of reacting dramatically to most things  - some of my long standing readers know this.

Mum agreed of course, ignoring her mother's muttering that the book was 'heathen' and so I owned my precious. It was mine...my own...my - you get my drift?

I have to own up to something at this point...I abuse books. I love them until they are obliterated into nothing but tatty, tea-stained, transcripts. I inhale them, I soak them in the scent of my life, I wear them like a piece of clothing. My cheap little copy of LotR is no different.

It has been everywhere with me. The pokey damp corner of my Grandparents Fermanagh caravan. The girls toilets, covered in tear stains, in school. The sun drenched city of Venice, in my student backpack - in place of my factor50 sunscreen. The South African brush, in the depths of Kruger Park, as the sun sets and a lion can be heard beyond the west gate.

Yes, this little copy has travelled quite a bit. I liken it to Mister Frodo, or Our Dear Bilbo...it has had many an unexpected journey.

Yes, this little book has become a common place fixture in my slightly dysfunctional life. I leaned on its fantasy world just as much as I did my faith, or my parents. Of course it is not real, of course it is an idealised world, and of course I shall never stumble upon an elf or a hobbit...but I can dream.

Ah and dream I did, as all of us do. We are young and filled with innocent longings, and first time fears. We project such feelings onto our favoured characters. Tolkien created much more than a book, he created a whole fantasy world for all his readers to run to in times of much needed escape. Peter Jackson - a fellow fanboy - took it a step further; he put it in pictures. Yes he tweaked it, yes he did things, but he put it in colour - none of us have ever come close to doing that (except maybe the weird 1950s/70s animated stuff). He is a brave fan, and I salute him.

So, I came to the fellowship of fans as a twelve year old girl by ways of a movie. At this point I had no way of knowing how huge the fandom was. I was fifteen before I was allowed dial-up internet in the house, and it took another two years before I discovered fanfiction and theOneRing fanclub. All I ever had for years was my book, my spare time, and my imagination.

I didn't realise for many years that there were 'levels' of fans. That there was kind of an unspoken elite. Those that knew all there was to know, and read every little morsel of Tolkien available. Apparently at one point it was frowned upon to come to the fellowship by way of Jackson's movies? I can say I am glad I never experienced such segregation in my early years. I was much relieved I never had to prove my Tolkien intelligence, for I probably would have failed.

I remember the first time I bumped into another fan...it went something like this;

"You like LotR...oh my gosh, me too!" I sang happily and patted the young fellows arm.

"Yea, I'm a fan...but are you one?" He sneered haughtily, making me flounder. Was I fan? What did he mean? Did I need to sit a test or something? Have a special membership handshake or ID badge?

"Y-y-yes," I stammered and twiddled my thumbs, as I peered at my feet; "I've read a lot of Tolkien's stuff, I've been known as LotR nerd for most of my school career."

"Yes well I read the books before I seen the movies. And I've read the Sil...have you even read that, or are you just one of these Orlando Bloom lovers," he scoffed, and folded his arms about his chest. I noted he appeared rather pleased with himself. He was quite confident that he knew more than me and was ultimately the true fan.

"Actually I have," I replied with a sniff, my indignation beginning to flare.

I was all out ready for battle, ready to get into the ring and prove my worthiness, but then I remembered something. The boy was a fan too, and at one point he didn't know much either, he learned through years of reading and happy hours of researching...just like me. So what if we came to the same place through different paths, so what if our journey and our destinations were different? We both loved the same book. We may have had different views and opinions, but I'm pretty sure we would agree on Gandalf's awesomeness. So I took a different approach.

"And actually I am an Orlando Bloom fan - have you seen him? He's delicious, he just makes Legolas that much more appealing...every movie has got to have a sexy hero for us chicks to swoon over," I giggled and blushed, and pretended to swoon. The guy suddenly deflated...I just showed him that one of his assumptions were correct, and more importantly I didn't mind, I still considered him an equal and wanted to fan. In essence I took away the threat of no acceptance to the fandom - or maybe admittance is the better description to use here.

Afterwards we gossiped and babbled about Tolkien and if Leggy was too pretty. A few weeks later I spied he was on social media posting about watching LotR. We spent the evening sending quotes to one another...it was the best fun a fan could have.

Bottom line, whether you literally just watched the hobbit and think Thranduil or Thorin are the sexiest beasts you've ever seen, or that Azog is well fit (let's not discriminate on moral grounds). Or have been long time fans from the 1950s, who cringe at the movies or loathe the new blood fans for their disrespect. Remember one thing, if you can, we are all part of the fellowship Tolkien created for us. I can assure you he is not "turning over in his grave" at the sight of our fanfictions, or our internal daydreams. He was a man who pushed fantasy right to its limits, often a rebel in his time, sometimes having to change passages so that they didn't scandalise the nation. He made a world, and I hope he departed this world with a glint of humour in his twinkling eyes and a resounding;

"The road goes ever on...now my dear readers, you must travel your own."

His words are filled with compassion, understanding, empathy, and brotherhood. Yes, sometimes we don't get on with or even like what our brothers (and sisters) do, but Tolkien taught us never to stop being their brother (or sister). Remember Legolas and Aragorn's spat in the Two Tower's, or Sam & Frodo falling out over Gollums poisonous words? It never stopped them coming together and doing good. So in short, embrace your fellow fans, you don't know what good they do for someone else and vice versa.

I'll leave you to remember your 'first time' encountering Tolkien, but I'd also like to ask you to reflect on your journey so far? What exciting things have you learned? What friends have you met? What Tolkien knowledge have you stumbled upon, and did you share it or keep it?

Feel free to comment and let me know...let's spread the Tolkien love.