Three days into a trek across the volcanic highlands of southwest Iceland, it occurs to me: This is Tolkien's Middle-earth. With its obsidian lava fields and steaming hot springs, its moss-covered foothills and treeless valleys, Iceland is Mordor one một phút and the Shire the next. It has a magical quality to it, this Land of ngọn lửa, chữa cháy and Ice—as if it has been plucked from the imagination and placed here, somewhere between Châu Âu and North America, to be a playground for the adventurous traveler.
A thousand years ago, Iceland's Viking settlers sent criminals to the island's inhospitable interior,...
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