I have to admit, I’m a sook. About certain things. It’s embarrassing really. My particular Achilles Heel, for whatever reason, is honor. You practically only have to say the word and tears spring to my eyes. Continue and actually recount some honorable deed and I’m gone. I don’t know why.

And I well remember the Lord of the Rings movie trilogy. Every year a friend and I would go to the latest movie instalment. And every time it was the same. I was in tears by about the first few reels and didn’t let up till the end. She found it odd and highly amusing. I found it odd and very uncomfortable.

And those films go on for a kazillion hours. It was like running an emotional marathon. There’s no real training regime for that.

But see, that’s what LOTR is – honorable lads doing honorable things, over and over and over. They’d just be finished doing one brave act or another, and my tears would be starting to slow their traverse down my cheeks – sweet reprieve – and there they would go again, risking themselves for others, rallying to the cause. Gandalf the White storming over the hills to help our imprisoned heroes, Sam saying ‘I can’t carry it (the ring), but I can carry you’ and so forth.

Sorry, just stopping for a moment, even writing about those scenes set me off……

I’m an emotional manipulator’s wet dream. I cry at Kleenex commercials if they have cute little doggies or heartwarming home scenes. I used to cry right at the beginning of The Secret Millionaire every week before they even got to the generous, honorable part. I cried in anticipation! I knew what was coming, I knew I was being led down that path, but I cried anyway! Every contestant struggling against the odds on all the Idol and related shows have my heart at ‘hello’. I know it’s not always real. But it feels real in the moment and the tears come, even if it’s ridiculous.

So I approached The Hobbit movie with mild trepidation. I went to it with a different friend, not accustomed yet to my rather bizarre reaction. Luckily she admitted to being a sook of a similar nature, so that was comforting.

And, for a long time in the film, I felt I was doing really well. Conquering my demons, so to speak. In fact, about a third of the way through, while some major battle or other ensued on the screen, I thought smugly to myself I could actually report to my original film companion I’d made it through relatively emotionally unscathed.

But one shouldn’t presume. It’s tempting fate. The bloody eagles turned up, and there I went, tears starting, refusing to stop. Then Thorin did his ‘I couldn’t be so wrong’ speech and hugged Bilbo. And by then I was gone.

It’s rather embarrassing to go to the ladies straight after such a movie and be seen still wiping mascara stained cheeks. Not a pretty sight.

So my probably not unexpected reaction won out in the end. Don’t get me wrong, I love the films. Maybe too much. Maybe that’s the problem. But could Tolkien have just paced out the honorable bits a bit more? It’s exhausting.