The gate to the middle ages appeared a scant dozen feet ahead.
It was immense: an ornate, black gate that towered over me, the only opening in the long wall that stretches both East and West as far as eyes can see.
Three times I knocked on the gate.
While I waited, the sky turned from blue to mauve to black. My night vision is not very good, so although I could hear movement from behind me I could not make out their huddled forms: at least three, perhaps four -- moving closer, but cautiously. They did not want to end up like their fallen companion. They waited in ambush, hoping for me to return down the path. But I did not plan to oblige them; instead I waited more.
It grew colder, and I tightened Eowiyn's cloak around my shoulders. No one approached, from either side.
At last, a small window opened in the gate. It was at eye level, but too dark to allow me to see beyond. A gruff voice: "Who tries to pass?"
"I do. Estevan. My path has led me here."
I did not expect to hear laughter as the response; my face reddened. I tried again to make out my interrogator, but no face was visible.
"Go back, child, you are not ready to pass through." The window started to close.
"Well, that's what I thought. But the path took me here nonetheless."
The window did not shut; instead, the voice seemed to consider. I felt myself being watched, studied: hairs on the back of my neck performed a small dance. A rhumba perhaps.
"How many years have you seen, Estevan?" the voice demanded.
"I'm 28, if that's what you mean. I don't remember seeing much when I was younger," I said.
"Have you a wife?"
"No."
The voice pressed further. "But you live with someone? Perhaps on the Shire? A life partner, we mean."
Bravely I replied -- "No."
"But you do have a girlfriend," said the voice. "Right?"
"Umm, not right now." I looked at my feet. "Not really. Well, no, basically. No." I coughed. "Look, are all these questions really necessary?"
"Yes. We must ask all manner of questions to see if you may pass through the gate. Your qualifications must be revealed for all to see. For an unexamined life is not worth the paper it is printed on. Now then. Have you sired many children?"
"Well," I said hesitantly, "not many."
The voice seemed surprised. "So you've sired one or two?"
"Okay, well, none so far."
"No children. Have you an animal companion? A war horse that you ride into battle? A hound that sleeps by your side? A falcon with talons of steel? Any pet at all?"
"Not a one. Oh! I had a gerbil, once."
"No partner, no children, no pets. Well. You own a house built by your own hand, we presume?"
"No, but I do rent a small room above the Inn near Tawnyoak."
"And have you a responsible position? Perhaps now that you are old enough to have finished your apprenticeship, you are starting a guild of your own?"
"Well, no, I do have a gig teaching swordplay to some of the local urchins. It pays for the room. (And it got me this shortsword, I might add.) And I was recently promoted to head assistant blacksmith."
Said the voice, "How delightful for you. Tell us, have you a respectable amount of gold secreted away in consideration of your future old age?"
I hawed and hemmed. "Not so much as a full gold piece. Probably a silver or two."
"We see. And have you put away childish things? Are your concerns preoccupied with affairs of the King, and the doings of the Church?"
"Well, I still play a lot of games. I'm probably less mature now than when I was a lad of 15. Never did care much for politics or religion. I'd rather talk about Merlin's spells or Aragorn's battles."
The voice spoke, after a distant rattle of thunder. "Estevan, turn back. You are not yet ready to pass through the gate. YOU HAVE BEEN JUDGED!"
"Cool! Okay, see you later. Bye. Good luck with those orcs and all."
"Wait! Boy, step into the light where we can see you."
"Umm...okay."
"Your hairline does recede, and you're putting on weight. How old did you say you were?"
"Twenty-eight years, four months, and a fortnight."
"Have you anything else to tell us?"
"I drive a station wagon, my 401(k) plan is in four digits, and my parents need my help."
"Step through the gate old son."
It shut behind me with such a clang that it was heard from Middle
Earth to Mundania. It echoes still.