It’s autumn, the perfect time to return to Middle-earth. The air feels crisper, the evenings stretch a little longer, and there’s something about watching The Lord of the Rings with a warm drink that feels like coming home. Every time I see the movies, I can’t help but whisper a quiet “thank you” to Tolkien.
What a man. What a mind.
He didn’t just write a story. He built a world, brick by brick, word by word, for years on end. He created languages that sound as if they were sung before the dawn of time. He mapped histories, kingdoms, and songs that feel as old as memory itself. It took him decades to bring it all together, and still, it feels like he was only scratching the surface. His patience and dedication make me believe that imagination, when nurtured with love and persistence, can truly create something immortal.
Those Who Came Close
A few others have dared to follow in Tolkien’s footsteps, each adding their own flavour of wonder to the world.
C.S. Lewis, his good friend and tea companion, took us through a wardrobe and into Narnia. His world felt lighter, more magical in a childlike way, but it carried the same sense of hope and courage that Middle-earth gave us.
George Lucas went galactic with Star Wars, giving us lightsabers, the Force, and a battle between good and evil that felt as timeless as any myth.
Frank Herbert gave us the sand-swept empire of Dune, full of politics, religion, ecology, and destiny. It’s a world that feels as vast and real as our own, only stranger and far more dangerous.
George R.R. Martin built Westeros, where dragons soar and politics bite harder than swords. His world might be darker, but it’s still born of that same urge to create something deep, complex, and unforgettable.
And then there’s James Cameron, who took us to Pandora in Avatar. He made us believe in blue aliens, glowing forests, and a planet that breathes as one. You can almost imagine Tolkien smiling somewhere, nodding in approval.
J.K. Rowling deserves a mention too. Hogwarts may not be ancient like Gondor, but it gave an entire generation the same feeling of belonging and wonder that Middle-earth did.
Beyond them are others who have built extraordinary worlds in their own way: Isaac Asimov, who turned science into destiny with Foundation; Neil Gaiman, who dances between myth and modern life with words that hum; H.P. Lovecraft, whose cosmic horrors still echo in stories today; and Hayao Miyazaki of Studio Ghibli, who creates worlds so tender and alive you can almost smell the earth after rain.
There are more, I’m sure. The creators of His Dark Materials, The Witcher, and many others I’m yet to explore, but I know that spark of Tolkien’s imagination lives on in all of them.
Whenever I think of Tolkien, I think of the courage it takes to dream, to really dream, and to keep at it even when it takes years. He taught me that stories aren’t just told; they’re built. And that somewhere, in every act of storytelling, there’s a quiet bit of Middle-earth waiting to be rediscovered.
So here’s to autumn, and to returning once more to the Shire, to Rivendell, to the lonely roads that lead us back to wonder.
