[ AUTHORS NOTE: So I have no idea where this idea is going but it suddenly popped into my head and I had to have a go at it. It's basically LOTR but set in a modern setting-obviously it was very late when I decided to go on this conquest and in turn it's not the best however! I gave it a go. Bit slow start but let us know what you all think always appreciate people's input and let us know if you'd like to see more! ]

A LONG EXPECTED PARTY

The day was late, afternoon running into dusk. The birds twittered loudly in the treetops. The town seemed miles away from the woodland that he resided in now. Was someone calling him? Frodo sat high in the tree, a leg dangling and swinging as he puffed on the cigarette perched in between his lips. The hood of his sweatshirt was pulled up sheltering his eyes from the bright sun that streamed through the canopy above. Reaching up he pulled the cigarette from his lips and allowed the smoke to drift gracefully skyward while his other hand reached into his Jean pocket and produced his iPod. He glanced lazily at the song currently playing, no he didn't fancy listening to Ed today. He quickly pressed and skipped. In the brief moment of silence he heard the familiar sound of tyres grinding over gravel and a radio crackling. It must have been one of those old radio stations that always played classical music...was that 'The Road Goes Ever On and On...'? Lifting his head off the branch Frodo pulled the end of his hood back his blue eyes studying the surrounding park. It was empty, aside from birds in the trees and squirrels running about. It was a humid summer afternoon that day. After a moment he quickly tossed the cigarette aside and leapt down from his seat in the tree. Hitting the lush grass below Frodo reached out and snatched his backpack from the tree base and slung it over his shoulders as he sprinted forward. His feet carried him quickly over the soft grasses of the park. He begun to catch a glimpse of a grey steely coloured car through the trees. It was the all too familiar exterior of the Mercedes-Benz E400. Pushing forward Frodo leapt atop a crumbling wall and laid his eyes on the car.

"You're late," he scoffed bringing his arms across his chest and folding them. The car remained silent a long moment before the driver's door popped open. The top of a grey fedora appeared as the man stepped out. A tall, slim man with a kind yet stern face. Dressed in a white shirt its collar slightly open, charcoal slacks, polished shoes and a grey trench coat the man glowered in his direction. His brows were thick, his jaw coated by a covering of beard that must have been at least four weeks or so overgrown.

"A wizard is never late, Frodo Baggins, nor is he early. He arrives precisely as he means to."

There was a long silence as the teen and the man stared at one another. Wizard. The old man had always fancied himself something out of the ordinary. Ever since Frodo was a child he claimed he had magic. Frodo couldn't hold it in any longer, he felt the corners of his lips cracking into a smile. The man before him was fighting a smile also, he could tell. After what seemed like seconds both smiled. Frodo leapt from the wall and wrapped his arms around the tall man before him.

"It's wonderful to see you Gandalf!"

Gandalf laughed and returned the embrace readily.

"You don't think I'd miss your Uncle Bilbo's birthday?" The man smiled.

The both entered the Mercedes and proceeded down the road into the depths of Hobbiton, Frodo held the man's cane which had been propped in the passenger seat which Frodo now sat. His eyes looked out the clean glass windows to the passing woodland, it drifted away being replaced by high post and rails.

"What news of the outside then? Tell me everything!" Frodo glanced to Gandalf. The man had started puffing on a pipe before they had left the woods, the smell of tobacco filled the car, a warm musky scent that Gandalf would frequently reek of. He cast a look to the teen from the corner of his eye and cocked a brow, reaching up and drawing the pipe from between his lips again. There was a small twinkle in the older man's eyes.

"What, everything?" He choked on the smoke in his mouth, "Far too eager and curious for someone you're age. Most unnatural..."

The car trundled over the roads finally meeting the small town that lay hidden in the lush green valleys of Hobbiton. The Shire was a quiet rural setting away from the bustling cities and hierarchies of the royals. It was a welcome reprieve from the surrounding Middle-Earth. Well what could Gandalf say really? Life in the wider world went on as it always had the past age. It was full of its own comings and goings, perhaps even unaware of the existence of the rural wonder that lay tucked away to the East. Something for which Gandalf was very thankful for. The Mercedes continued on its cruise through the roads, the vehicle seemed to dwarf them. Many of the inhabitants of the Shire would stop and look toward the sleek machine with glaring inquisitive eyes. No one around these parts had a vehicle like it, most were all rusted old coopers or old trucks to aid them in their farm work. The Mercedes passed through the centre of the village, past the local tavern; The Green Dragon Inn. A place where many of Hobbiton's inhabitants frequented on a nightly basis. A small thing but a great place with good ale. From their seat in the car they drove past the large field which, at the current moment in time, was teaming with people. People setting out long benches, people decorating the low hanging branches of the trees, hanging strings of lights through the hedges, setting seats for the people that would line the tables. In the midst a large banner was being hung from the side of an old lorry. In delicate scrawl were the words; Happy Birthday Bilbo Baggins.

"Ah..." Gandalf finally broke the silence, "The long expected party. So, how is the old rascal? I hear it's going to be a party of special magnificence?"

"You know Bilbo..." Frodo rolled his eyes, "He's got the whole place in an uproar."

"Oh, well. That should please him!"

"Half the Shire's been invited."

"Good gracious, me," Gandalf choked on the smoke again. He cast a look to the teen beside him who seemed downcast. His brow cocked again.

"He's up to something..." Frodo muttered in a low tone.

"Oh really?" Gandalf quickly focused back on the road ahead of them, keeping the car steady on the bumpy road. The car wasn't built for this form of work. Although a sleek thing it wasn't young.

"Alright then," Frodo suddenly heaved, "Keep your secrets. Before you came along we Bagginses were very well thought of."

"Indeed?"

"Never had any adventures or did anything unexpected."

"If you're referring to the incident with the Dragon...I was barely involved. All I did was give your Uncle a little nudge out of the door." Gandalf could remember back to those days fondly. Oh what an adventure that had been...especially that old man they had run into-the man they now dubbed the Dragon. What a horrible creature the man was.

"Whatever you did," Frodo pointed out, "You've been officially labelled as a disturber of the peace."

"Oh really...?" Gandalf's brows rose high as they continued their journey. Gandalf glanced out the car window to see a familiar face staring at the vehicle. Wasn't that Odo Proudfoot? Why was he looking at him so suspiciously? They continued through the small village, taking twisted turns and alleys through the houses and buildings. The Mercedes turned down a slim alley, so slim Gandalf didn't believe the vehicle small enough to fit however he persisted and indeed the car did fit. It trundled down the laneway, a number of children emerged from an alley and called out. They pointed at the car and began to follow it. No doubt they had never seen anything like it before. Gandalf ignored them as the car rolled forward, he noted the looks Frodo was casting him from the passenger seat. Gandalf propped the pipe in his mouth once again before looking to the central console of the car and pressed a button. The trunk of the car sprung open and spinning ball of reds and greens and gold's leapt from the car spiralling high into the air fizzing as they went. The children squealed in delight as they watched the fire crackers twisting in the air. Gandalf gave a small chuckle.

"Gandalf..." Frodo spoke after a moment, propping the cane in the foot well and taking a tight hold of his backpack. "I'm glad you're back." He nodded before thrusting the car door open and leaping out quickly slamming the door shut behind him.

"So am I, dear boy...so am I." Gandalf grinned as the car continued forward.

The Mercedes continued on its ascent up a large single hill where a small home dwelt, a tall white building with flower boxes hung on every sill, the window closed by curtains, the chimney however was smoking. Someone was home. Gandalf twisted the wheel of the car pulling the vehicle in onto the paved driveway. Shutting off the engine he took hold of his cane and stepped from the vehicle. The air outside was cleaner, cleaner then the city air. Holding the cane tight he kept it close to his side before advancing toward the cottage. A small gate that led to a garden path and to the large round green front door had a small sign hanging from it. 'NO ADMITTANCE EXCEPT ON PART BUSINESS.' How typical. Gandalf, ignoring the sign, pushed the gate which creaked loudly and continued up the garden path of Bag End Cottage. Rising the cane up he hammered heavily on the door. There was a moments silence. Nothing but birds and the gentle snaking breeze could be heard. He hammered again.

"No, thank you!" A voice roared from inside, "We don't want any more visitors, well wisher, or distant relations!"

"And what about very old friends?" Gandalf called in response. A pause. The door opened and the short old man stood before him, greying hair but seemingly un-aged and with a mischievous glint still remaining in his eyes. He was a handsome thing really-past the creases in his skin. He was smartly dressed in a white shirt, a dashing red brocade waist code and dark corduroy trousers with tan shoes.

"Gandalf?" The man's eyes squinted against the sunlight.

"Bilbo Baggins!" Gandalf grinned.

"Oh, my dear Gandalf!" Bilbo grinned striding from the house to meet his old friend. They embraced one another. Goodness Gandalf did forget how small Bilbo had shrunk to. He was a tall thing before in his younger days but it seemed youth had seemingly left him.

"It's good to see you," Gandalf nodded as they separated, "One hundred and eleven years old, who would believe it?" Gandalf studied the man. "You haven't aged a day..." The pair shared a laugh.

"Come on, come in!" Bilbo quickly scurried back inside holding the door for Gandalf allowing the taller man entrance. Ducking his head slightly he stepped into Bag End Cottage. "Welcome, welcome!" Bilbo grinned heaving the door closed as soon as they were both inside. The cottage itself was a cosy yet cluttered place every shelf laden with souvenirs of his travels, adventures he had taken. The rafters of the ceilings were high enough to allow Bilbo to stand tall but for Gandalf himself they were just slightly too low. He had to stoop. Reaching to his head he popped the Fedora off his head Bilbo responded by snatching the hat and cane from him and propping them near the door before trotting away disappearing down the hallway.

"Tea?" Bilbo called over his shoulder, "Or maybe something stronger? I've a few bottles of the Old Winyard left, 1296...a very good year, almost as old as I am. It was laid down by my father. What say we open one, eh?"

Gandalf watched the man disappear into the kitchen. It was nice to simply enjoy the simplicity and familiarity of the old cottage. It was warm, the walls were always good at holding the heat, a small fire was sparking in the fire place as if it was needed in this warm weather. Turning Gandalf felt his brow connect heavily with one of the lower hanging beams. He groaned loudly.

"I was expecting you some time last week," Bilbo called from somewhere in the tunnels of the cottage, "Not that it matters," He chuckled, "You come and go as you please, always have done, always will. You've caught me a bit unprepared, I'm afraid. We've only got cold chicken, bit of pickle, some cheese here...ooh, no, that might be a little risky."

Gandalf wondered from the open main hall into the living area where the fire was spuffing. The desk in the room was strewn with papers, old maps, documents. It was the framed map that caught his attention the most. It was charred in one corner. He remembered this very well. The Lonely Mountain. A small smile crossed the old man's lips. Bilbo was still talking.

"Err, we've got raspberry jam and apple tart. Got some custard somewhere. Not much for Afters, I'm afraid. Oh no, we're alright! I've just found some sponge cake. Nice little snack. Hope it's enough. I could do you some eggs if you like?"

Bilbo appeared in the arch way that looked into the living room to find it empty. He scowled. Gandalf was here wasn't he? He looked to the half eaten pie in his hand...was the pork gone off?

"Just tea, thank you," Gandalf's voice sounded behind him. He jumped and spun.

"Oh right..." He smiled before shoving the remaining pie into his mouth. "Youdon'tmindif," The words were muddled through the pie. Gandalf sat into one of the chairs at the large old oak dining table. He didn't understand what Bilbo was trying to get out but none the less he responded with;

"No, not at all. Go ahead."

There was a loud heavy rapping on the front door. Gandalf's brow creased. What on earth?

"Bilbo Baggins, you open this door. I know you're in there."

Bilbo nearly choked on his pie as he collapsed back against a wall attempting to hide himself from the view of every available window in sight-it was a good thing the curtains were drawn.

"I'm not at home!" Bilbo hissed. "I've got to get away from these confounded relatives, hanging on the bell all day, never giving me a moment's peace! I want to see mountains again...mountains, Gandalf...and then find somewhere quiet where I can finish my book...oh the tea!" Bilbo scurried across the kitchen again and toward the old stove where the kettle sat atop. Snatching a towel from the rail he lifted the kettle off the flame and carried it across the kitchen

"So you mean to go through with your plan, then?"

"Yes, yes...it's all in hand. All the arrangements are made."

"...Frodo suspects something."

"'Course he does, he's a Baggins. Not some block headed Bracegridle from Hardbottle."

"You will tell him won't you?"

"Yes. Yes."

"He's very fond of you."

"I know. He'd probably come with me if I asked him. I think, in his heart, Frodo's still in love with the Shire, the woods and the fields...those little rivers." Bilbo, after pouring the cups of tea, had set the kettle back on the open flame of the hob before crossing the kitchen and peering out the window between the cracks of the curtains. "I am old, Gandalf."

They both were.

"I know I don't look it, but I'm beginning to feel it in my heart." Gandalf watched the man carefully, his movements had become slow now, secretive, his eyes shifted to a distant faraway gaze. His hand had shifted into the pocket of the waistcoat. What was in that pocket?

"I feel thin...sort of stretched, like butter that's been scraped over too much bread. I need a holiday...a very long holiday and I don't expect I shall return...in fact I mean not to."

Gandalf knew. He knew everything but he said nothing.

The rest of that afternoon had been spent avoiding Bilbo's relatives and catching up on old times. Bilbo had taken a particular shine to Gandalf's car. They sat now on the edge of the garden, the car lay outside the cottage and the two old men now sat atop a small wooden bench under the kitchen window. From their vantage they could see the final preparations of the big birthday celebration taking place in the field at the town centre far below. Bilbo struck a match and finally lit the end of his cigar.

"Old Toby," He grinned taking a long pull from the cigar, "The finest in the Southfarthing."

Bilbo took a number of pulls on the end of the cigar before sitting back and heaving a large smoke ring from his lips. Gandalf cocked a brow. Impressive. He took a long pull n the pipe in his mouth and sat back, straightened his back and expelled the smoke from his lips. Through the ring of smoke a sail ship with masts and sails ploughed through the air direct through the centre of Bilbo's ring. Bilbo scowled a moment and turned to Gandalf before smirking and putting the cigar back inside his mouth.

"Gandalf, my old friend," Bilbo said slowly, "This will be a night to remember..."

Crack! A firework exploded in the centre of the night sky high above the Shire town. It was the spectacular shape of a great green tree its large branches unfolding in a flash of sparkling light. Glowing flowers rained down from the sky in its wake. The people looked up with eager pleased faces. 144 people in all had filled the town square. They feasted, the drank and the tables were piled high with scones. Gandalf had tossed his trench coat over a fence rail, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up as he lit the fireworks. Bilbo was more than occupied greeting the guests. Frodo sat at one of the tables, his closest friend, Samwise Gamgee, was next to him. They both held a can of alcohol each. Luckily they were just the age to enjoy the ale. Frodo had dressed in his finest, a shirt, tie and pants much like the rest of the party goers. Frodo noticed Sam's eyes elsewhere though-they were focused solely on the girl who was dancing through the crowd. A pretty thing with a freckled face and long wavy blonde hair. She was dressed in a close fitting dress that Sam was drinking in. Rosie Cotton was her name. A lovely girl, worked in the local bar and Sam had eyes for her since they had finished high school.

"Go on Sam!" Frodo urged with a roll of his eyes, "Ask Rosie for a dance."

"I think I'll just have another can," Sam's eyes grew wide as he quickly rose from his seat and attempted to shuffle away from his friend. Frodo leapt up from his seat and grabbed hold of Sam quickly turning him from his current path toward the open bar and back toward where the people danced.

"Oh no you don't. Go on." Frodo growled tossing the boy forward. Sam stumbled into the centre of the dancers, only to be swept away by Rosie Cotton herself. Of course. Frodo laughed loudly before looking back to the table where Sam had left his can, plucking it up Frodo obliged to finish. He didn't fancy it going warm. Frodo was contented to sit alone now, he had no idea where the other two had disappeared to. They had mentioned something about...fireworks? They'd better not interfere with Gandalf's. The man would skin them if they touched anything of his. Sam was actually relaxing now with Rosie. No big deal-the pair were born for one another just needed to admit it. After a long moment and another number of can's Frodo rose from the table and began to wonder through the guests. Many said hello and greeted him as he passed. They were all turned out in their finest. Frodo's eyes finally landed on Bilbo wondering the crowd. Forcing himself forward he quickened his pace and caught up to him. There was a shrill scream from somewhere in the town. Frodo spun and looked up at the light that flashed up into the night sky illuminating the world like it were day light. That was new. The rockets burst in the blackness only to form the shape of a great red and golden dragon. Fire spewed from its nostrils as it spun in the air before turning and flying low toward the on-looking crowd. What on earth?! Frodo quickly turned and grabbed hold of his uncle who was still oblivious to the panicking crowd.

"Bilbo!" Frodo urged over the screams, "Watch out for the dragon!"

"Dragon? Nonsense," Bilbo scoffed, "Hasn't ever been a dragon in these parts."

Frodo ignored the man's mumblings before eventually grabbed hold of the man and pulling him to the floor. The dragon roared overhead swooping low over the crowd. Everyone ducked to the floor as the dragon swept overhead. The dragon sparked before exploding with a deafening bang that filled the entirety of the valley. Everyone remained silent a long moment before erupting into cheers. It may have been terrifying but it was impressive. It didn't take long before people were demanding a speech from the Birthday man himself.

"Speech!" Frodo urged along with everyone else. He sat again at one of the benches, the band had stepped down from the stage and the dancers had dispersed for now. Everyone was indulging in the food and drink. Bilbo shuffled about before finally clambering onto the back of one of the Brandybuck's pickups.

"My dear Bagginses, and Boffins, Tooks and Brandybucks...Bruggs, Chubbs, Hornblowers, Bolgers, Bracegirdles and Proudfoots."

"Proudfeet!" Odo Proudfoot corrected from the crowd. Frodo chuckled.

"Today is my one hundred and eleventh birthday!"

Cheers of congratulations and 'happy birthday' erupted.

"Yes and alas...Eleventy-one years is far too short a time to live among such excellent and admirable people. I don't know half of you half as well as I should like and I like less than half of you as well as you deserve."

There was a mixed reaction of cheers and mutters of confusion. Was that a compliment? Frodo grinned-he knew exactly what it had meant. Now though Bilbo was stumbling as though he wasn't sure to say, as though he was nervous. Frodo felt a frown creeping on his brow. Was he sweating? What was he fiddling with in his hands?

"I regret to announce...this is the end. I am going now. I bid you all a very fond farewell." Bilbo's eyes found Frodo's through the crowd. What did he mean? What was happening? Was this a prank? Where was he going? "Goodbye," Bilbo gave a faint smile in Frodo's direction before...he vanished. Vanished? What? Frodo leapt up from his seat and scanned the guests. He half expected to see his Uncle chuckling as he crept through the crowd. The crowd too erupted into chaos. This couldn't be? No one was able to just vanish! That was like magic! Magic didn't exist. It just couldn't be true. Frodo scrambled. People were looking to him as he knew what was happening. If anyone knew what was happening Frodo knew it would be Gandalf. He had spent near the entire day with his uncle. Frodo turned now attempting to find the man, or at least find the Mercedes.

After being unable to locate his uncle, Frodo was quick to relent in his search and opted to return home. The party was still in chaos but he had and didn't want anything to do with it. Would his uncle have opted to go home? He rushed up the hill now toward the white painted cottage. It was quiet. There was a faint light coming from the living room area, Frodo could see it through the curtains.

"Bilbo! Bilbo!" Frodo called ascending the steps. Reaching the front door he shoved the heavy thing open and looked inside. The home was dark the only light was coming from the living room, there was a faint sound of the TV too. Frodo glanced toward the living room only to feel a lump beneath his foot. Stepping back Frodo looked down to the small golden object that was sitting on the floor, abandoned. Stooping he picked up the ring. It was only then he noticed the trench coat hung over the back of one of the chairs, his cane rested against the desk in the room, he puffed on a pipe. The room was filled with smoke now, his back remained to Frodo.

"He's gone hasn't he?" Frodo asked stepping into the living room ,the ring still in hand. "He talked for so long about leaving...I didn't think he'd really do it." Gandalf was muttering quietly to himself, not taking notice of the teen next to him. Why would he not talk to Frodo? "Gandalf?" Finally the man was brought from his thoughts. He turned and instantly his eyes found the ring in Frodo's grasp. He gave a faint half smile before pulling the pipe from his mouth.

"Bilbo's ring," The man smiled, "He's gone to live his days out elsewhere. He's left you Bag End."

"What?" Frodo scowled. He was eighteen about to leave school he didn't have the need or want to have his own house as of yet. What about college? What about all the travels that Bilbo had promised him? Gandalf rose from his seat now, setting his pipe aside and looking to the desk in the room snatching up a blank empty envelope and extending it to Frodo.

"Along with all his possessions." Gandalf finished ignoring the alarmed teen before him. Frodo watched him a long moment before finally bringing his hand up and dropping the ring into the depth of the open awaiting envelope. "The ring is yours now. Put it somewhere out of sight."

The old man was beginning to ruse around the room and gather his own possessions. He snatched up his trench coat and slung it over his shoulders, extinguished his pipe and popped it in his pocket before grabbing his fedora off the table and popping it on his head.

"Wait. Where are you going?" Frodo scowled.

"I have some things I must see to."

"What things?"

Gandalf grabbed his cane and held it firm in his hand before looking to Frodo seriously. "Questions. Questions that need answering." There was a wild look in the old man's eyes that Frodo wasn't appreciating. What things? That didn't answer his question. In fact what questions? What was going on? Bilbo vanishes and now Gandalf was leaving too?

"You've only just arrived," Frodo pointed out. Gandalf fled the living room and into the hall. Frodo scurried after him. "I don't understand..." Frodo finally muttered. Gandalf's hand was on the door handle however he paused and turned slowly to face Frodo.

"Neither do I," He sighed heavily, the wild look was gone now, "Keep it secret. Keep it safe." Gandalf turned now and vanished out the door leaving it swinging. Frodo stood a moment the envelope in hand. He cast a disgruntled look to it before rushing out the door after the old man.

"Wait!" He called only to witness the sleek Mercedes zooming down the roads into the village before vanishing from sight. What did it all mean?

The next number of days passed with little to no events. Many watched Frodo now with sceptical eyes after the events that had transpired at the party almost a week ago. He sat on his bike, stopped on the road a brief moment his eyes on the iPod in his hands flicking through the selection of music once again. Glancing up briefly he noted Sam disappearing down the road on his own bike back toward home. He gave a last wave as the sandy haired boy vanished into the darkness of the night. There had been no word from Gandalf. Nothing at all from Bilbo and Frodo was left to fend for himself. Finding an adequate song he propped his feet back on the peddles and pushed off again. The hill up to Bag End was a steep and irritating thing, it was a good thing Frodo was used to it. Finally he cycled onto the drive, swung off the bike allowing it to flop onto the manicured stonework before turning and wondering toward the house. His eyes were once again down on the iPod as he pushed through the gate and trotted up the steps toward the front door. Thrusting it open he reached up and threw his hood down, slung the backpack from his shoulder and tossed it aside. He paused. The house was dark, black. Silent. Something wasn't right. Reaching up he pulled one of the earphones from his ears and peered into the living area, down the corridor that led to the kitchen and what had been Bilbo's study.

"Hello?" He called. Daft really. Who would be there? A hand clamped down onto his shoulder. He cried out, dropping the iPod hearing it shatter on the floor before spinning to see the culprit. Gandalf. He relaxed somewhat when he realized the person familiar however...what was wrong? Gandalf was filthy his clothing stained with sweat and dust, his usual slicked back hair unkempt now, his beard an extra week of growth. Wow he really was beginning to look like a wizard now. However what was most disturbing was the look of unbridled paranoia in his eyes.

"Is it secret? Is it safe?" He demanded. What? The ring. Where had Frodo left it? He searched the house while the paranoid Gandalf jumped at every noise from outside. Cars rolling down the road would make him leap in the air, his hands clutched the cane tightly as though he was about to start swinging. Frodo had searched the living room first, then the kitchen before finally pausing to think. Where would he have put it? It wasn't in his bedroom. The study? He fled down the hall and pulled the heavy door open looking around. The desktop stood unused now on the desk, books and papers were, as usual, strewn across the room. Why couldn't Bilbo use the bookshelves? Frodo looked to the large chest in the corner and crossed the room. Dropping to his knees he heaved the lid open and rummaged through. He located the envelope, it was a tad crumpled now though. As soon as his hand sourced it, it was snatched from him by Gandalf who rushed back to the living room. Frodo quickly followed after him. What on earth was this all about? Gandalf moved to the fireplace-had he started the fire? He tossed the envelope into the flames.

"What are you doing?!" Frodo moved to grab the envelope back from the flames but was prevented by the old man. The envelope didn't take long before it burned away revealing the solid gold ring in the flames. It was sinking into the embers of the fire. Why? Gandalf didn't speak a word. His grey eyes were fixed on the ring in the flames. They stood in silence. What was that smell? Frodo noted it must have been the old man-he reeked. Gandalf moved now and fished the ring from the flames using a pair of tongs.

"Hold out your hand, Frodo." He urged. Frodo hesitated. "It's quite cool," Gandalf encouraged again extending the ring clutched in the tongs teeth. Well of course he'd say that! He hadn't touched the damned thing. Frodo lifted his hand and held it out. The ring plopped into his hand. Wow. It was heavy. Gandalf disposed of the tongs before turning and standing tall his eyes turning to the living room window now.

"What can you see? Can you see anything?" He asked. Frodo looked to the heavy object in his hand and studied it. It was a gold ring. What did Gandalf expect him to say?

"Nothing," Frodo shook his head, turning the ring around in his hands. He was amazed at how cool the metal was. "There's nothing." He was ready to put the ring back in the chest and forget it was even there, Gandalf was acting like a crazy old...wizard. Like the ones from those fantasy films he had watched time and time again. He continued to look at the ring on the verge of rolling his eyes until he noticed something. "Wait..." He muttered. A frown creased his brow. What was this? The golden band changed now, letter like burning fire appeared in the gold glowing a hearty red. What was this? "There are markings," Frodo scowled. Was this one of Bilbo's old pantomime tricks that he'd use to impress the kids of the town? The letters looked like a load of gibberish. They weren't even a language. Frodo couldn't even make out where to start to try and read it. "I can't read it though."

"There are few now who can..." Gandalf muttered turning to look across at the teen. "The language is that of a dark time, which I will not utter here." A dark time? Frodo looked up. "In our language it read, 'One ring to rule them all, One ring to find them, One ring to bring them all, and in the darkness bind them."

What on earth? Frodo would much have rathered spent his afternoon catching up on some of the TV programmes he had been missing. Did Gandalf seriously expect him to believe that? Frodo watched the man in utter disbelief.