Like Melissa, I want, want, want, need to see Lord of the Rings. The need to view it now is coalescing like a swallowed marble in my stomach. (With blackest moss the flower pots... 3 points.)

You see, it's very simple: Tolkien was my real introduction to fantasy. Oh sure, I read Victor Kelleher as a pre-teen, and it fed my imagination, but it was Tolkien who really started me off. How? Well, there used to be this game called Hugo's House of Horrors. It was one of those walk around, type in commands adventures. It was the first one I ever played. It was also, incidentally, how I learned to type. It was slightly fiendish - took us days to figure out how to get in the sodding front door (tip: break the pumpkin). Anyway, towards the end you come across this little old man with his fishing rod. He shows up in games two and three as well. He asks you silly questions. Like the first one, which was: "What is the hero's name in 'The Hobbit'?"

"Huh?" I went. "What's the Hobbit? Muuuuuum!!"

Mum told me it was a book by some guy called JRR Tolkien. She suggested I go and talk to Mrs Thiedecke, the school librarian and my bestest friend. So I did, and Mrs T pulled a book from the shelves and handed it to me.

I have a theory that the first dragon you ever see is how you will see dragons forever. This cover was mine. It's stunning (and search as I might, I can't find a picture of it on the internet), featuring Smaug standing on top of the mountain, wings spread, spewing into the dusk sky not fire, but some sort of insidious vitriol, curling through the air. It is absolutely glorious. I looked high and low for that edition when I was purchasing my copy of the Hobbit, and finally found it at a second-hand store. I bought it so fast, it made my head spin.

In any case, I devoured it (and finished the game) and moved on to the main series. It was mind-expanding stuff. I adored it. Later, after years of fantasy-reading, I would return to it, and be disappointed. It wasn't as glorious as I remembered it. It was a bit dull, and the characters were a bit cardboard, and there was lots of 'the good stuff' left out in favour of lengthy descriptions of rowan trees. I hold the bright, fervent hope that the movie will be everything the books were for me the first time round. And considering there's such a major part made of Arwen, I think I might just be in for satisfaction.

Please, let it be good. Maybe I can hibernate between now and Boxing Day. I'm dying here.