Let us dedicate our memories to the spirits of the Eldar who came to us from the Ocean that lies to the West.

I finished the last of the Return of the king today, at least the last of it that I can reasonably conceive of getting through. I'm sure that at some point in the future I'll want to sit down to 17 hours of actor, designer and post producer commentaries. But not today. PJ and Fran and Phil are enough, thank you.

I will say this; as much as my appreciation of the movies continues to grow upon every successive viewing (I'm now kind of mentally reviewing my all time list to see just how high up they rank) I was probably just as moved, if not more emotionally struck by watching the making of material as I was by the films themselves. Regardless of the achievements of Gandalf et al, it seems much more awe inspiring to think about a hardy little band of kiwi's getting up the gumption to take on the standard bearer fantasy story and not just wrestle it on to the screen, but do it with the grace and elegance and wit and perseverance and forebearance that they did it with. The feat of making the movies seems at least as miraculous as the stories themselves.