I lost my wedding ring last week and I blame J.R.R. Tolkien.
For those not familiar with his little-known trilogy The Lord of the Rings, it involves wizards and hobbits and oh yes, rings. Rings are powerful. Rings are plentiful. Rings are lost. Rings are found. And there’s this ring, the one ring …
I just finished reading the trilogy for the second time, including the appendices this time. They fill in a lot of information on events before and after the trilogy, and I was surprised to see that Aragorn gets another name – Estel. You know Aragorn, or maybe you know him as Strider, or Elfstone, or the DÃºnedain, or Elessar, or Longshanks, or Wingfoot, or Telcontar, or Thorongil, or Mr. Giggles.
Anyhow, somewhere during the reading of all these rings being lost and found, I lost my own. I have no idea what happened. I never take it off, but sometime after lunch one day at work I realized it was gone. I retraced my entire steps from the day, searched through trash bins in the bathrooms, but to no avail.
It was gone.
The only unusual thing that day happened on the MAX on the way to work. There was this odd little fellow in the seat behind me, a bug-eyed fellow about half as tall as a normal man. He muttered to himself, which didn’t alarm me, I do it myself at times.
“Nasty human, he won’t talks to us.”
“No, no, he’s listening to his iPod, he probably doesn’t hear us.”
“He hears us! He only pretends! We’ll take back the preciousssss.”
“Don’t disturb him, he’s working on pictures. Lovely pictures, look at that eagle!”
“Nasty eagles, they eats our fishes!”
“There’s plenty of fishes! Besides, I’ve mostly seen them eating duckses.”
“Not the point. Honestly, whose side are you on?” (gollum)
“But that’s not even our precious! It’s only precious to him!”
“Oh for crying out loud SmÃ©agol, you really get on my nerves sometimes. It’s a ring isn’t it!”
At that point I turned up the volume on my iPod, I didn’t want any distractions.
Still have no idea what could have happened to my ring.