The Moot at the Marathon
© Douglas Charles Rapier
Tol-Eressea, Smial of the Lonely Isle, the Taiwan chapter of the international Tolkien Society (of which I am the founder), met at the theater at 9:30 AM on December 18th, 2003 before the start of the first film. After exchanging breath-less greetings, we took the elevator to the fifth floor, found a rather quiet table off to the side and commenced a special meeting - a 'moot' as its known in the parlance of Tolkienians. As is our custom, we read an invocation to Varda; 'A! Elbereth Gilthoniel!' to open our moot, quoting from the third volume of 'The Lord of the Rings', book six, chapter nine, 'The Grey Havens'. (There's nothing religious or cult-ish about this recitation. Speaking a bit of Elvish sets a tone for our discussions of Middle-earthly matters, that's all.)
Our main topic of discussion was, quite naturally, the movies we were about to see. We'd all seen the first two films dozens of times between us and here we were near-giddy with excitement about the prospect of spending nearly twelve hours in a cine-plex to witness the spectacle of the three-film epic in its entirety. (Until the extended version is released on DVD, that is.) As the attending members signed our 'moot log', the record/minutes of our meetings, we speculated about what the third movie would be like, eager for the experience. We shared bits of gossip concerning which scenes and characters would or wouldn't make the transition from page to screen. Anxious with anticipation, we took some group photos in front of the back-lit RoTK bill-board, entered the auditorium and took our assigned seats before the proscenium.
The theater would be filled to near capacity with young, Chinese adults. I was clearly an exception, being in my fifties and Caucasian. The mood of the audience was light-hearted yet anxious. I had thought I would see blinking prosthetic Elf-ears, mis-cast 'Harry Potter' wizard hats or other such marketing frippery but I was relieved to see none in evidence. This crowd, if not devoted to the works of JRR Tolkien, seemed, at the least - dare I say - respectful. Maybe it was just the early hour.
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