And the ship went out into the High Sea and passed into the West, until at last on a night of rain Frodo smelled a sweet fragrance on the air and heard the sound of singing that came over the water. And then it seemed to him that as in his dream in the house of Bombadil, the grey rain-curtain turned all to silver glass and was rolled back, and he beheld white shores and beyond them a far green country under a swift sunrise.-J.R.R. Tolkien, The Return of the King
Christopher Tolkien passed today at 96. Ninety-six years is far to short a time to have such a figure live among us, and yet he had a long and good life which is all one can ask for.
J.R.R. Tolkien is the father of modern fantasy, but without the son we wouldn’t have the vast trove of materials that have come out since the elder Tolkien’s death. There would be no Silmarillion, no History of Middle Earth, and the modern fantasy genre would be lessened due to the lack.
Roads go ever ever on, and may he find a good road wherever he is now.