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500, around which time the earth will be destroyed and one of the refugees, whose great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great . . . ah, you get the idea, was a Downer, will find the relevant material floating through space, miraculously unharmed. Of course, by then even Tolkien will have faded into obscurity, meaning that the refugee will huck the book back into space, where it will eventually hit the leader of the species of alien whose planet the remnants of humanity are heading towards. Upon the arrival of humans to this planet and the aliens' realization that the humans are the species who wrote the book, a massive interspecies war will begin, in which both sides will be utterly wiped out, preventing anyone from ever deciding the question of whether the wings were, in fact, made of pink cardboard as some state, or of dwarf beards.
How many years will pass before cats telepathically absorb knowledge of language from sleeping on the works of Tolkien and use this knowledge to communicate among themselves, eventually staging the Great Cat Revolution, which will establish a government whose leaders are chosen by knowledge of Middle-Earth?
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Every human should have a cat or two in their care, to teach them the meaning of the word, and to correct them.
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