The two months time until the trip finally started seemed far too long for Chris and far too short for me. If you run a one woman business, three weeks of absence can kill your customer relations if not carefully planned and I had lots of things to plan.
Especially about 'Walking for more than ten hours a day if you drive down the two hundred yards for your breakfast usually with a car' and 'how many things can be stuffed into a backpack; and how much do you really need to be placed there?'

I was lucky that all my life, I was good at planning. I am not spontaneous and hate surprises, and therefore was able to hold even tight schedules in work that I had given to myself. Planning was everything to me; and this included analyzation of the situation and thinking about any possibility that might occur during unexpected problems.
I never needed much sleep, even if I forced myself to seek my bed for at least seven hours per day; I spent most of the night thinking, and a part of the morning in writing down and reflecting my thoughts.

This journey was definitely not desired, but as I had gone on many journeys before, it was not too difficult for me to figure out by logic what I would need during a trip though the English countryside.

I decided to take several pairs of good walking shoes, the usual underwear, jeans, sweaters and shirts that you take on such a trip; but also three corsets, one of my personal 'Elvish' gowns and cloaks, as we decided to take some pictures in the English woods, and, of course, the digital camera, a picture saving hard disk, and some of my very personal belongings.

I knew that Chris, because of her addiction, would take at least three times as much with her as I did, to compare the world Tolkien lived in with what was written in his books.

She was a dreamer, someone who could really fall into daydreams.
She was a little the opposite of myself, just believing what I could see and touch in person. Of course I had read the books when I was younger. Of course, I had seen the movies; at least the two parts that already had been shown in cinema. They impressed me, but not as much as they impressed her.
Nevertheless, she passed on some of her fascination to me, when we talked for endless nights on the phone about this or that, about the characters, the scenes in the movies, the chapters of the book.

The plane flight was tiring, as well as the first two days, which we decided to spend in London.
After that, we headed to Egbaston, Birmingham, to see where Tolkien spent his youth 100 years ago.
The town is inspiring, full of that what we would see as 'typical old English architecture', with the burnt brown stones and the white windows. We saw the ninety-six feet tall Perrot's Folly, a tower built in 1758 in Waterworks Road, and a tower chimney on a waterworks station, built in 1862, and both of us laughed at the inspiration these two huge towers might have given to Tolkien.

So little did we know yet about his real inspiration.

We saw the houses in Highfield Road, where Tolkien lived as a teenager, and Stirling Road, where he lived with his aunt when his mother had passed away. This whole part of his life made me very sad; and Chris was also very much affected. We decided to stay around in the small town a little longer, to walk in the footsteps of Tolkien. Despite of that, I was also happy as there were taxis in town that could prevent me from walking too much.

As we wanted to take some pictures of the gowns we had brought, we were able to get to some of the more remote parts of Egbaston Park, maybe because the Wardens working were not the greatest in watching what they should have been watching or perhaps because of the late hour.

We walked through the old forest, some of the trees being older than Tolkien would be today. We imagined that maybe, at some point of time, he might have walked this particular forest as well, and asked ourselves if this would have been his inspiration for the Golden Woods of Caras Galadhon. Or maybe the Fangorn forest, and we laughed at each other when we tried to imitate some Ents, speaking with slow, dark voices and stalking with stiff legs through the wood. This trip was quiet fun, I thought, and I did not even feel silly when running childishly through the dark forest, imitating creatures that sprung from the great authors mind.

And finally, we found it. In a clearing - the moon was just passing through the clouds - we found a giant, old oak. I wondered how old it could be; I was barely able to see the top of the giant, old tree.

"My God, Chris, have you ever seen such an ancient tree?"

She was speechless.

In the light of my flashlight, I examined the old trunk of the tree. I could see old wood carvings over my head, seems as if we were not the only ones who admired that tree in its lifetime. Some years were also carved into the wood; some high above my head, so that I could barely read them.

"1894 - Chris, 1894! I really wonder how old this tree is?"

"I have no idea... oh my, this is so beautiful!"

"Look", I pointed to the trunk at about chest height; "someone even tried to cut some kind of steps in here - wonder if these were children who wanted to build a tree house up there?"

"Wonder how the tree survived this?", was her answer.

"Let's take some pictures; even if, I guess that the lightning will be bad."

"Let me take some of you first", Chris said and helped me to take my backpack off. I dressed quickly; it was quiet warm on that autumn evening, but not as warm that I would have wished to be without clothing for too long. I took some inches away from my loose corset lacing also; hey, who wouldn't want to look great in pictures!

The light blue silk velvet gown with the long, silvery sleeves fitted me well, kept me warm and draped softly around my legs. Chris took some pictures of me - standing next to the tree, in front of the tree... then she stopped.

"Look up, there are some forks in the thicker branches about two yards above you. Do you think you can climb up there with the help of the old stairs? Then I could take a picture of you on that old tree!"

Climbing on trees was one of my favorites... when I was a small girl. Now, being corseted, with a floor length silk velvet gown and walking shoes, it was - well, difficult. "I will take off my shoes, otherwise I might not find these old holes in the stem", I replied. I took off shoes and socks, laid them aside. And climbed. It was not too easy to get my foot into the first stair hole; Chris had to help me.

Afterwards, it was not too difficult - someone really had successfully built a staircase here, many, many years ago.

I arrived where Chris wanted me to be; between the two stems that parted from the trunk below. It really was not too high, but for someone like me, with a fear for height, it was *very* high.

"Chris, are you still below there? I can barely see you!"

"Sure I am, where else should I be?"

"Would you just start taking pictures – NOW? I am not feeling very good being up here."

"No problem."

The flash of the camera took my eyesight, and suddenly I heard the cracking sound of footsteps in the wood below.

"Hello, anybody there? Stand still, do not move!"

I was shocked, and because I could barely see anything below me, I took a step backwards...

...and fell. the last thing I saw was this wood cutting in the branch my hand missed to grip.

"JRRT"

And then, the light went out for me, after seeing a lightflash for just a second.