Bilbo and Gandalf are standing around a table with the ring center between them. A fire crackles comfortably in the background amongst stacks of books in the dim twilight of the shire.

Frodo walks into the background. All he’s wearing is a towel. His muscles ripple and he is glistening with sweat. He walks up to a basket of apples and picks one up, inspecting it. He takes a bite enjoying the sweet juices as they run down his chin. Sam appears behind him, naked except a layer of mated hair and sweat. He wraps an arm around Frodo tenderly. Protectively. The towel falls to the ground.

Gandalf says “you can’t take the ring with you, Bilbo, it’s evil.”