My class on the Inklings (C. S. Lewis, J. R. R. Tolkien, Charles Williams and their circle) met on Tuesdays and Thursdays last semester, just in time for elevenses. A master baker in the class provided Lembas, which we found remarkably sustaining. Turkish delight was selling out all over the country, but we managed to locate a supply and discovered we were immune to its sticky spell. The class linguist instructed us in Quenya and Sindarin. The class geologist taught us to identify glacial moraines in Middle-earth. We discussed pre-Inklings like Spenser, Milton and Dante. We sang the songs of Tom Bombadil, studied the social hierarchy of Malacandra, and saw how the deception theory of the atonement might account for the downfall of Sauron and the White Witch. All the while we were blissfully unaffected by the Narnia controversies raging around us.