I was around 16 years old when my grandmother gave me one of my most prized possessions, the red, ornate, hardback version of "The Lord Of The Rings" trilogy, complete with foldout maps of Middle Earth. I set into it immediately and, within a few days, had it read from cover to cover.
For the record, I am glad Peter Jackson left out Tom Bombadil when he produced the movie trilogy; he was an oddity that really never did seem to fit with everything else.
That said, an even odder part, for me, was how very anti-climactic the last few chapters were. The ring gets tossed into the fire, Sauron goes poof - and then there are several chapters where it seems to be very "ho-hum, let's mosey slowly back to the Shire and then sail away a few years later."