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Here I am hiking after Gyddyn, a ranger from Middle Earth. Why? I don't really know except yesterday after my grandmother's funeral I found out that my mother was a distant relation of King Legolas of Mirkwood, or as it is now known, the Great Greenwood Forest. Guess I now also know where my almost pointy ears and my affinity to animals and plants, come from. My father was a human from "New Earth", in a different dimension to their Middle Earth, who accidentally stumbled upon the portal. He was gone for a long time, and when he returned to his own dimension, my grandmother couldn't make head or tails of his story about elves, ogres, orcs, dwarves and fighting. So much fighting. My grandmother raised me from baby till her death, now 27yrs later as my father passed from some infection soon after reaching home. “Keep up, Calithil. We have a long way to the portal still.” The flicker of his star brooch caught my eye as he quickly turned away from me. His faded green long coat fitted loosely over his leather vest, and looked a bit worse for wear. If it wasn't for the fact that my grandmother's last letter spelled out that it was essential I go “home” with this ranger, I wouldn't have set off with this scruffy looking stranger, with his reddish hair and beard, armed to the teeth with bow, arrows, long sword and various daggers, no doubt. “You mind explaining again the urgency behind this trek, please?” I huffed out breathlessly. “And why do you call me Calithil, when my name is Sarah Elizabeth?” “Huh, your human name may be Sarah Elizabeth, but your elven name is Calithil, meaning Moon Light. I wish to reach the portal before nightfall when the mountain trolls come out. They roam that area at night.” “But why am I rushing to Middle Earth now. Why not before?” “That is for King Ellavorn to discuss. I was asked to fetch you, as soon as possible, after your grandmother's passing.” We reached the portal in another hour. It was inside a dark cave which grew colder and colder as we penetrated its depths. Then suddenly all was pitch black and between one footstep and the next there was a shimmering, and suddenly I stood among rocks, with the sun sitting low behind us. As I looked up I walked from under a rock arch so magnificent it boggles the mind. Pointing at the engraving on the arch Gyddyn said: “It says Middle Earth in Elvish. We should reach Bilbo's house within another hour as I've arranged for horses to be waiting for us. Another reason why I would prefer to leave before those mountain trolls wake up. They love horse flesh.” On the other side of another huge boulder we reached a grassy knoll with two magnificent horses waiting for us. “Firefoot and Lightfoot. Horses of Rohan, and descendants of Felarof, first of the Mearas.” His quiet voice held the awe he felt for these animals. We quickly mounted and set off for Bilbo in The Shire, a descendant of The Great Bilbo, The Adventurer, who helped the dwarf king defeat the dragon Smaug. Upon reacing Bilbo's house a while later, I found we were not the only ones to stay over there that evening. As tired and weary as I was, I found the company of these dwarves and one wizard quite enlightening.