As far as I can remember, The Hobbit was the first book I wanted to read after “graduating” from the likes of Dr. Seuss, Winnie the Pooh, Encyclopedia Brown, and the Hardy Boys. I’m not sure that I really understood it or The Lord of the Rings the first time I read them, but I was captivated and have re-read each a dozen or so times. Today, I made the pilgrimage out to Oxford to see J.R.R Tolkien’s grave and the pub that he and C.S. Lewis used to hang out in.
The names Beren and Luthien come from a story that he wrote about an elf maiden that falls in love with a mortal man. It’s sweet. The cemetery itself is three miles north of Oxford in Wolvercote.
After that, I took the long way back to Oxford via a path next to the Thames. There were the remains of a nunnery as soon as I stepped onto the path, people fishing, and walking the dogs. If this is what the rest of the English countryside looks like, I’m moving:
The pub, The Eagle and Child, was the last stop before taking the bus back to London. It has a variety of plaques and photos in remembrance of these great writers: