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[page 2] And Goblins Too {Title art: The letters in the title are psuedo-block letters aimed at adding a sense of antiquity to the text. Below the title is a single line representing a range of mountains. To the left of title and mountains, appears a line drawing of a gobblin with a thick beard, baggy clothing, and knee high boots. The goblin has an unidentified object in his left hand. He wears an evil smile. You see, the point of the whole thing is; I didn't WANT to read the Tolkien books. In general, books which people urge me to read (and especially those which I am urged to read in view of my Sevener series of stories, books which well-meaning friends think would be "right up your alley"...I generally, and almost without exception, _abhor_. Not too very long ago someone urged me to read Mervyn Peake; and when I had plowed tediously through it. I put down my big foot and stamped it and said NEVER AGAIN. From now on, I said, any book which anyone urged me to read because they thought I'd like it, I would make a point, carefully, of shunning. I don't quite know how I decided to ask my kid brother to let me borrow the Tolkien books, which are the cherished cornerstones of his fanatasy library as THE KING IN YELLOW is of mine, but ask I did, and he sent me _the hobbit_. The first page almost put me off forever, whimsy-hater that I am; but I said to myself "Oh Well --I won't read it myself, I'll read it aloud to Steve." For we had recently revived the habit begun in his early childhood, of reading aloud. I don't know where the change came... when I realized I was reading as much for my own pleasure as his. Somewhere in the Gollum sequence, I suppose. But we finished it and begged for the next. I sat down (while Steve was in school) and began _The fellowship of the ring_, and realized I was hooked. It was one of those books which, after reading, leave the world a different place than it was before. We are still reading; We have come to the end of _THE two towers_ and are waiting for the last in the series, and I shall write more then. But we have howled with mirth at Sam and the poor old Troll; felt shivers of pity and disgust for Smeagol; chuckled at the disputes of Gimli and Legolas (Steve loves the Elves; I am a partisan of the dwarves) and wept unabashed in mourning when Sam took the Ring from Frodo's lifeless body. The mallorn- leaves of Lórien fall in our dreams. The brilliance of Earendil's star glimmers bright; Glamdring and Andúril and Sting flash in dark nightmares. The strangeness of the world closes <Drawing of a leaf> in and glimmers white and dark with the lilt and fall of elvish singing. How can anyone "review" a book like that? When the spell fades a little, perhaps. For now these scribbles must suffice; rude echoes from a dream. {Image: A line drawing, shaded with some stippling, appars to the right of the final paragraph. The illustration depicts the portrait of an elf in profile. The elf's features are exagerated: narrow eyes, long nose, thick, upturned lips, and pointed ears. The elf wars his cloak up over his light hair. The word "NALDIR" appears to the right of the drawing.}