“All have their worth and each contributes to the worth of the others.”
The Silmarillion - J. R. R. Tolkien
The Silmarillion reminds me of home not because of its story but because a paragraph of my story was built around it.
When I was around 12 I lived in a big house with two buildings and between them there was a veranda, a pool and a court. In this veranda I had my own piece of solitude: a yellow hammock (made of an actually pretty itchy cloth, not very good but I was used to it) with a huge black and gold pillow inside. And that's where I spent most of my afternoons after school: in the hammock with a book and food. I read many books there but the top option was The Silmarillion, shame on me and I'll only say it once, I read it there when I wanted to nap because it made me sleepy. That memory always stuck with me. If I think The Silmarillion I think hammock, pillow and cookie crumbs and well, home.
It's been a long time since that happened and I moved and a lot has happened, but in college I made Tolkien my work study and got back to it. I have so many books about him and his work lining my shelves that I suppose in one way or another, Arda is always gonna be my home.