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"So this is the great Ring of Power?" Frodo said.
"Certainly," Gandalf said. "Forged by the Dark Lord Levine Sauron, in the land of Mordor."
"Wow," Frodo said.
"Indeed," Gandalf said.
"But how does one make a ring of power?" Frodo said.
Gandalf shrugged. He was a tall, thin man, and he was prone to doing many things that tall, thin men stereotypically do, such as shrugging. "It's easy," he said with a thin smile. "Back in about 30s (Shire reckoning), the Necromancer had found an easy source of power: pouring one's evil will into a gold ring and unleashing his wrath upon his enemies. Only problem is that the elves and men fought back." Gandalf took a long, heavy drag from his pipe. He blinked, sat up. He coughed, crossed his legs. "Guy by the name if Isildur Barnes got a group of high-ranking Gondor officials and got that ring for his own. Only problem now is that it's 2 miles below the surface of the Anduin. And we're sending you down there with a crack team of specialists: an elf, a dwarf, a wizard, 2 men and some hobbits. But what worries me isn't that it's the One Ring; what worries me is that it may be 300 years old ..."