What do you "assign" to the Shire? - The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum

littlemanpoet · 10-07-2005, 07:03 PM

Uffington Castle; The Vale of the White Horse; and Wayland's Smithy; ... and a fresh breeze blowing over that hill on a cool morning as the ubiquitous sheep graze absolutely everywhere outside of London.

A great English Pub, just down the valley from the White Horse, called The White Horse by the way, that does bed and breakfast, and offers great English Rarebit. Yum!

Oh! Well, these two are so close to Oxford they probably ARE in Tolkien's Shire.

Villages called Wootton, Buckland, and Wood End, all within 30 miles of Oxford.

The North York Moors. Yes, I realize that they seem more like Forodwaith or maybe Fornost, but you're just so high up, the wind blowing at gale force, nobody else anywhere near, it's 8 Celsius (about 45 F) not including the wind chill (brrr!), and you're out on the moors looking at the oldest man-shaped stones you've ever seen. The sun is close to setting and York is an hour south and far below, and you feel like you're literally at the top of the world, even though it's only about 1,000 feet above see level, nothing but purpling heather ... and sheep .... and the world sloping away in every direction.

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10-07-2005, 07:03 PM	#11
littlemanpoet Itinerant Songster Join Date: Jan 2002 Location: The Edge of Faerie Posts: 7,066	Uffington Castle; The Vale of the White Horse; and Wayland's Smithy; ... and a fresh breeze blowing over that hill on a cool morning as the ubiquitous sheep graze absolutely everywhere outside of London. A great English Pub, just down the valley from the White Horse, called The White Horse by the way, that does bed and breakfast, and offers great English Rarebit. Yum! Oh! Well, these two are so close to Oxford they probably ARE in Tolkien's Shire. Villages called Wootton, Buckland, and Wood End, all within 30 miles of Oxford. The North York Moors. Yes, I realize that they seem more like Forodwaith or maybe Fornost, but you're just so high up, the wind blowing at gale force, nobody else anywhere near, it's 8 Celsius (about 45 F) not including the wind chill (brrr!), and you're out on the moors looking at the oldest man-shaped stones you've ever seen. The sun is close to setting and York is an hour south and far below, and you feel like you're literally at the top of the world, even though it's only about 1,000 feet above see level, nothing but purpling heather ... and sheep .... and the world sloping away in every direction.