This is very poorly and hastily written, but it's how the Lord of the Rings should have gone down. Let me take you to the time when Bilbo has left Bag End, and Frodo has been left in possession of the ring by Gandalf…
Some years later, there was a knock at the door. Casting an elongated shadow in the cold evening was Gandalf, and impatience burned in his eyes.
"Where is that ring I gave you all those years ago, Frodo? Is it safe?"
"Not even a hello with you wizards, is there?" Frodo said. "I've kept it here, though. In this trunk."
Frodo knelt beside the wooden box and, after rummaging through the odds and ends he found there, pulled out a yellowing envelope. He tipped it, and Bilbo's cold ring slid into his hand.
Gandalf snatched the ring from Frodo's hands and threw it into the coughing fire.
"Gandalf what are you doing?" Frodo cried.
The wizard didn't respond. He gazed into the flames and watched them flare up as the envelope the ring was in burned. Gandalf motioned for the poker without turning. Frodo handed it to him, and watched as his old friend scooped the ring out from the embers.
"Take it," said Gandalf, holding it out to Frodo with the implement. "Don't worry, it's quite cool."
Frodo accepted the ring from Gandalf's hands.
"What do you see? Has it changed?"
"No, Gandalf." The wizard sighed in relief. "But…wait. There seems to be writing on it… I can't read it, Gandalf."
"As I suspected. This is the one true ring, Frodo, made by the evil Lord Sauron in the depths of Mordor. The writing on it is Elvish. Take my hand, Frodo."
Frodo looked at his friend, nodded, and then grasped Gandalf's wrist.
There was a tight, squeezing feeling as the warm colours of Frodo's Hobbit hole were stretched out of shape. Frodo felt his body contorting like water running around other objects. Then the world came to a halt, and shapes seemed to be flung into sight.
There was a roaring in his ears, and everything was hot and bright. Gandalf was still by his side.
"Gandalf!" Frodo shouted, "What happened? Where are we?"
"I'll explain later. For now, just throw the ring in front of you."
He was blinded by the light but Frodo obliged. Gandalf leant forward, nodded in satisfaction, and then took Frodo's arm again.
The pinching sensation wasn't so bad the next time around, but Frodo had the luxury of falling to his woven rug on the floor of his Hobbit hole when the world returned to normal.
"What," he said in between heavy breaths, "just happened?"
"We apparated to the ledge of the volcano known as Mount Doom, where the ring was made. You threw it in, and now the ring is destroyed, and its creator along with it. All his army will be dead now too."
"So we defeated the evil? Good, because I've brought in some lovely crumpets from the Eastern Shire you'll just love, Gandalf. Wouldn't it have been stupid if we'd walked all the way?"
Gandalf chuckled into his beard. There was another knock at the door.
"Now who could that be, I wonder," Frodo said as he bumbled towards the entrance hall.
He swung the green circle open, and there stood another wizard cloaked in purple.
"Yo whaddup Gandalf? I got the weed, have you destroyed Sauron's horcrux or whatever you gotta do?" the man called over Frodo's shoulder.
"Yep. All good Albus. Meet you in five?"
"Word."
Gandalf turned to the Hobbit.
"I'm so sorry, little one. I must be off now. Dumbledore's booked us in at this really nice hotel, and we don't want to miss our massage appointment."
"You'll visit though, won't you Gandalf?"
"Sure, whatever. Laters, titch."