“Why it will take weeks before we get all these things sized up!”
“Weeks indeed,” said Pippin. “And then Frodo will have to be locked up in a tower in Minas Tirith and write it all down. Otherwise he will forget half of it, and poor old Bilbo will be dreadfully disappointed.” (1)
Last week I had nothing to say in this space. This week I’m bursting with things to say — but I want to take a little time to say them. A little more time than my deadline of posting something today would allow.
Let me explain. I spent the last four days traveling to, then staying in, then returning from, Nashville. The purpose of the trip to Nashville was to join about two hundred other people for a little gathering called Hutchmoot. If you’re not familiar with Hutchmoot (and there’s an above even chance you aren’t), I highly recommend checking three links: on Hutchmoot itself, see here and here; and on the Rabbit Room, who convenes Hutchmoot, check here.
Hutchmoot is wonderful — as Jonathan Rogers put it, “an embarrassment of riches.” Between the storytelling, the music, the conversation and fellowship, the food, and the setting, I’d say Hutchmoot is about as close a thing as you’ll find to Rivendell outside the pages of the Red Book of Westmarch. And, having put the matter that way, those who frequent this blog should now see the relevance of Hutchmoot, and the Rabbit Room, to the work of Lantern Hollow Press, its writers, and its readers.
But having said that much, I’m going to defer everything else I have to say about Hutchmoot to a post to appear shortly. The fact is I’ve logged too many miles, and not taken quite enough sleep, to say anything else that would come close to doing any facet of Hutchmoot justice. So consider this post a promissory note to give you a more complete report from Hutchmoot in the very near future. Cheers.
(1) J. R. R. Tolkien, The Return of the King 251 (1955).