The story
As you stand on the broad, tree-lined thoroughfare of St Giles, look for the modest, narrow storefront of number 49, marked by a swinging sign depicting a golden eagle carrying a small child. This is the Eagle and Child, known affectionately by generations of Oxford students and locals as the Bird and Baby. Step inside, and you’ll find yourself in a space that feels centuries deep, with its low ceilings, dark wood paneling, and the lingering scent of hops and history.
To find the heart of our story, move toward the back of the pub. Before the renovations of the 1960s, there was a small, private nook here known as the Rabbit Room. It was a modest space, tucked away from the main bar, where a group of friends met every Tuesday morning for nearly two decades.
They called themselves the Inklings. Among them were two men who would redefine the boundaries of the human imagination: J.R.
R. Tolkien and C.S.
Lewis. Close your eyes for a moment and picture the Rabbit Room as it was in the 1930s and 40s. The air is thick with the blue haze of pipe smoke.
On the table sit pints of local ale and stacks of handwritten manuscripts. This wasn't a formal academic seminar; it was a gathering of brothers-in-arms who believed that stories could reveal the deepest truths of the world. It was right here, in the flickering light of a coal fire, that Tolkien first read aloud chapters of a sprawling epic he was calling The Lord of the Rings.
Imagine being one of the first people on earth to hear the names Strider, Galadriel, or Mordor, whispered over the clink of glasses. Nearby, C.S.
Lewis might have shared the first sketches of a magical wardrobe and a lion named Aslan. The Inklings were brutal but loving critics. They would shout encouragement or groan at a clumsy sentence, pushing each other to turn their private mythologies into timeless masterpieces.
The Rabbit Room was their sanctuary. Tolkien, a meticulous linguist, and Lewis, a brilliant theologian, found in this pub a refuge from the pressures of wartime Oxford. Today, while the room has been opened up, the spirit of their fellowship remains.
On the wall, you can still see a framed document signed by the group, a testament to their presence. As you continue your walk through Oxford, remember that the epic peaks of Middle-earth and the snowy woods of Narnia didn't just begin in a library; they were forged in the warmth of this very pub, amidst the laughter and tobacco smoke of the Inklings.