Yay, let's ring in the first chapter of LOTR! Are you ready to kick some butt, reader? Well, ARE YOU?

Disclaimer: Tolkien owns Tolkien, you own you!

The well-tread path through the great wayside trees is almost as familiar to you as the roads around the Mountain. You take a deep breath of the fresh, free Shire air and smile in spite of the weight in your heart. If nothing else, the evening's celebration will be interesting. You wonder if hobbit revelries could match the party spirit of the Dwarves.

The path leads you right to Bag End. The infamous sign on the gate is no deterrent. You hop the gate and rap smartly on the green wooden door.

"Who is it?" a familiar and suspicious voice calls from inside.

"An old friend coming to call on a grouchy birthday hobbit!" you reply, grinning.

Bilbo throws open the door. "Your Majesty!" He bows low. "You honor me with your attendance!"

"Sixty years and you're still hilarious," you say dryly. "C'mere - "

You kneel and hug Bilbo tightly, though perhaps not as tightly as you once would have; he's old now, and you worry about snapping him into pieces. But the gleam in his eye and his smile haven't aged a day, which you're very glad to see.

"It's so good to see you at my door of your own free will and sound mind," Bilbo quips.

"And it's good to see you standing without a cane. Where did all that beautiful caramel hair go in sixty short years?"

"We cannot all be unchanged by time, my lady," he says loftily. "But hair aside, I'm fit as a fiddle! I could fight another dragon if you've got one! But - uh oh - " Bilbo yanks you inside and quickly slams the door shut. "A dragon, yes, easily, but not my lovely extended family."

"You are going to come to Erebor for retirement, right?"

"Retirement? I don't know what you - ah, yes, of course. I forgot you do that."

"You'd be comfortable there," you press, batting your eyelashes. "We'd set you up for life, and you'd be among friends - "

"May I remind you that our friends are about as peaceful as a starving warg pack!"

"What happened to being up to fighting another dragon?"

He waves that away. "I'm leaving to do some traveling, first and foremost. I've been cooped up here far too long."

You smile fondly at your longtime friend. In the right light, he was almost the young, complacent hobbit you'd known many years ago. "I know you'll have a good time wherever you choose to go," you say.

"Do you know?"

"Yes, I do know."

"Then that settles it. The party is the perfect time to make my escape. Frodo will be comfortable here in Bag End. He's a good lad. I'll miss him the most. He'd enjoy your visits, if you still cared to come."

You shrink away from the topic of the future. You say instead, "Let's focus on tonight. I'm sure it'll be a time to remember."

Bilbo beams. "Oh, shall it ever!"

The inhabitants of Hobbiton prove their ability to party to the point that you're sure if they and the Dwarves ever got together, the resulting rave would level a continent. Ale flows like the Anduin. Dozens of tables groan under the weight of enough food to feed an army. The hobbits are initially shocked to have a Dwarf-dressed Elf in their midst, but your eagerness to have a good time soon puts you in their good graces. You make sure to take a break from dancing to listen to Bilbo recount the troll incident; it's just as amusing to hear despite having been there.

"Did I do the story justice?" he asks slyly once finished.

"Of course you did. You make it sound like it was only yesterday."

"It almost feels like it was," he sighs, looking off into the trees. "Sixty years have passed in a flash, haven't they?"

You nod. "Faster than I ever thought they would. Too fast. I never realized how terrifying time can be..."

Bilbo recites, "All things it devours: birds, beasts, trees flowers; gnaws iron, bites steel, grinds hard stone to meal. You know where that's from, don't you?"

"Yes, though I never was fond of riddles. But I'm sorry, I shouldn't be ruining the mood. It's a happy night. I shouldn't be gloomy."

"No, no, don't apologize. It's an appropriate topic. I am old, Aniel. I certainly don't look my age, but time has a way of reminding one in the early mornings and the late evenings of its ways. So rather than waste away in complacency, I shall get back to my roots, get back on the road, for one more adventure!"

You smile. "Bilbo Baggins, it has been nothing short of a blessing and an honor to know you."

"And you, my lady. Whatever led you to fall down at my door was fate's hand, and we will meet again after tonight."

You linger at the party after Bilbo's disappearing act. You don't really want to be present for his departure; you have enough emotions to contend with about starting the quest to change the fate of Middle Earth. It's ironic for you to realize that, despite all the preparations and training you'd done in those sixty years, nothing could have prepared you for this.

You follow Frodo quietly when he returns to the house, calling for his uncle. He pauses in the foyer, noticing the ring on the floor. "He's gone, hasn't he?" he realizes sadly. "He talked for so long about leaving...I didn't think he'd really do it... Gandalf?"

Gandalf, previously caught up in his own thoughts, looks up with a thin smile. "Bilbo's ring," he comments as though he's surprised. He grabs an envelope. "He's gone to stay with the Elves. He's left you Bag End, along with all his possessions."

Frodo hesitantly drops the ring into the envelope. Gandalf seals it with wax. "The ring is yours now. Put it somewhere out of sight."

"Where are you going?" Frodo asks as Gandalf rises and gathers his things.

"I have some things I must see to."

"What things?"

"Questions. Questions that need answering."

"Gandalf," you call quietly, finally drawing attention to yourself. "You needn't leave to find those answers."

Gandalf stops and stares at you. You're not sure if it's understanding or hesitance growing in his grey eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that you don't have to go all the way to Minas Tirith to find out what you need to know. If you want to talk about that ring..."

"But you would not know...you could not..."

"All these years and you still don't believe in me?" you ask wryly.

"What do you know of Bilbo's ring?"

"I know that everything you fear is correct. It is the One Ring."

"How?" he demands. "How could you know? How long have you known?"

"Throw it in the fire if you want proof. The writing will appear, and then maybe we can save some time and get ahead."

"Throw what in the fire?" Frodo interjects. "Gandalf? What are you - ?"

Gandalf takes the envelope off the mantle and tosses it in the fire, ignoring Frodo's protests. The paper shrivels away, leaving the ring gleaming among the hot coals. Gandalf retrieves it with the tongs and sets it on the table. You hold your breath despite knowing what comes next: the previously inocuous golden band erupts with letters of red light that cast an eerie picture on the dark walls.

"What does it say?" Frodo near-whispers.

"The language is that of Mordor, which I will not utter here."

"Mordor?"

"In the common tongue it says, 'One ring to rule them all, One ring to find them, One ring to bring them all, and in the darkness bind them'."

You sigh softly and plop down in a chair. It's strangely exhausting to hear the truth you carried so long finally become common knowledge; you'd think it'd be easier for others to know, but it's just another sign that this awful journey is about to begin.

You jump when Gandalf asks sharply, "How did you know?"

"What?"

"How did you know of this?"

"Uh, the same way I've known literally every other thing that's happened."

"And how long did you know of this ring? Since Bilbo found it? For sixty years?"

"Are you insinuating something, Gandalf?"

"What possessed you to keep this a secret? If this is truly the One Ring, and it has been here all this time, how could you not tell someone?!"

You shriek a curse in Khuzdul and jump to your feet. "Do you really think anyone could have done anything until now?" you shout. Both Frodo and Gandalf are taken aback at your uncharacteristic display of temper. "I haven't had this rattling around in my head for the past six decades because I wanted something to think about! You know as well as I do what's been going on in the world as of late. I have waited for sixty years, prepared for sixty years, all for this! And, might I add, me telling you now has given us extra time to play with! If you want to accuse me of sabotage or evil, Mithrandir, I suggest you do it right now or forever hold your peace!"

Silence rings in the wake of your anger. You're not the least bit sorry for yelling; you can't believe Gandalf would think after all this time that you hadn't done only what you thought was right.

"Is this what you meant?" he asks quietly. "Those many years ago in Rivendell - sixty years, you said - "

"Sixty years until the ring resurfaces, yes. Now let's talk about the near future. The Nine have been dispatched from Minas Morgul, but we have some time to play with. I'm not sure how long, but it's more than we would have had. If we can to decide what we're going to do, maybe we'll have the advantage."

Gandalf stares at you for a long time. Not even Frodo dares to speak; he looks between the two of you nervously. Finally Gandalf rises and murmurs, "I must see the head of my Order regarding this matter."

"Also, Saruman's working for Sauron."

"Is there anything else you see fit to share?!" he bellows, filling the room with shadow. You cross your arm as the display. You've put up with Thorin's temper tantrums; this is quite unremarkable. Gandalf huffs angrily, mutters something to Frodo about keeping the ring secret, and sweeps out the door.

It's quite a bit before Frodo manages to ask uncertainly, "Is everything alright?"

You sigh, a bit of your irritation ebbing away. "No, Frodo. But it will be in time. I'm sorry you had to see that. I didn't expect Gandalf to react so badly."

"But you're no servant of evil, Aniel. You wouldn't sabotage anything."

"Of course not. I think Gandalf is just afraid. I'm afraid, too. This is bigger than all of us."

"I'm not sure I understand."

The two of you sit down in front of the dying fire. You tell Frodo everything you know about the ring, its forging, and its lore. You suppose he deserves to know, given what trials he'll soon face. His usually bright eyes are troubled by the time you finish.

"No one knew," you say heavily. "No one but me."

"And you kept this to yourself for all this time?"

"I didn't know what else to do. On the quest for Erebor, it was easier to use my knowledge to help things. My only goal was to keep Thorin alive. But now, with this - Frodo, this ring and what we do with it will determine the fate of all of Middle Earth. I've pondered it for years, but I couldn't possibly work things out easily. It's too big."

"I think I understand," he says, nodding slowly. "Telling too much too soon may have changed what you saw happening, and then you'd be just as in the dark as the rest of us."

"Yes. That's what Gandalf doesn't get."

"I think he does get it. But he's frightened, like you said. If I am honest, I'm beginning to be frightened, too..."

"I won't tell you not to be, because there's plenty to fear, but I will tell you not to worry about it. Things will work out in their own time. For now, we should get some sleep."

"Yes, I suppose you're right..." Frodo picks up the ring and turns it over in his fingers. "What should I do with this? I could bury it, or throw it down a well..."

"Just put it away somewhere safe and try not to think about it more than necessary. I find that's a pretty good way to ignore a problem."