Tolkien's and Peter Jackson's The Lord of the Rings is about the renunciation of power, of getting rid of the Ring. Evil must be destroyed - a mainstream Christian vision - and it must be destroyed in England. In Oxford perhaps?

Now, I acknowledge that many journalists would have us believe that the Shire is based on the former hamlet of Sarehole (shown above), which has been swallowed up by Birmingham, or on Ribble Valley in Lancashire, which now features a Tolkien Trail. But, I prefer Wales because it looks that way on maps. This resemblance encouraged some fans (and enterprising locals) in 2010 to think of Pontrhydfendigaid, near Tregaron in Ceredigion, as the Shire, which I suppose would make Cardiff Gondor and the Severn the Anduin. That England would be Mirkwood and Mordor works in very neatly with Welsh nationalism. So that is where the ring must be destroyed, no? In Tolkien's home town. Eh voilà, below is Mt. Doom, metaphorically speaking, of course - Merton College.

Since 2010, no other towns have stepped forward to compete with Pontrhydfendigaid, but admittedly there has been no action there either. Like the Shire itself really... Unless this is really Bree. Below is one of the two hotels - the Red Lion (the other is the Black Lion). One of them could serve as the Prancing Pony. Or not...

But Russian writer Kirill Yeskov (among others) did step forward in 1999 with a satirical alternative retelling of The Lord of the Rings called The Last Ringbearer told from the point of view of Mordor because, as we all know, history is written by the victors and that's not fair:

Mordor...that amazing city of alchemists and poets, mechanics and astronomers, philosophers and physicians, the heart of the only civilization in Middle Earth to bet on rational knowledge and bravely pitch its barely adolescent technology against ancient magic. The shining tower of the Barad-dûr citadel rose over the plains of Mordor almost as high as Orodruin like a monument to Man – free Man who had politely but firmly declined the guardianship of the Dwellers on High and started living by his own reason. It was a challenge to the bone-headed aggressive West, which was still picking lice in its log 'castles' to the monotonous chanting of scalds extolling the wonders of never-existing Númenor.

Unfortunately, the translation has not been printed in English for fear of copyright action by the Tolkien estate.