"Middle-earth Inc." was a maze of corridors, but Frodo had walked them countless times before. He didn't need to pay any attention to where he was going, he just followed Gimli, listening absent-mindedly to Merry and Pippin talking to each other.
He'd often wondered how he had ended up here. One moment he'd been a normal boy. Well, maybe not normal, he'd been an outsider all his life, but as normal as someone like him could be. And the next moment he'd become a secret agent. It was dangerous work, but he loved it. His team mates were his family, the only family he knew. He loved Merry Brandybuck and Pippin Took like brothers. And Sam Gamgee, his trusted Sam, took care of Frodo whether he wanted him to or not. Sometimes Sam made Frodo feel safe just by being there, reliable, sensible and solid.
Frodo looked up when he saw someone coming along the corridor in their direction. The man was tall, graceful and slender as a young tree. He wore a black tank top, black sweat pants and had a shirt knotted around his waist and a towel around his neck.
Adam Elrond was one of the highest-ranking members of The Council, but he was still active in the field. His team, nicknamed 'the Elves', consisted of Jonathan Glorfindel, Galadriel Smith and Stuart Haldir, each a legend in their own right.
Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin straightened up unconsciously when Elrond passed them.
"Hobbits," he said in greeting, giving them a smile and a nod.
The hobbits thought Elrond was extremely cool. They aspired to be like him - and all four of them had an unspoken crush on the charismatic older agent.
When the reached Gandalf's office, Gimli didn't knock, he just stuck his head into it. "Charlie, they're here."
The hobbits heard a curt "Bring them in" and then Gimli flung open the door, shepherding them inside.
Sir Charles Gandalf looked up at them from his desk. He was what most people would call distinguished-looking, with grey hair, a neat beard and bushy eyebrows. It was hard to determine his age. Usually, his demeanour was grave and dignified, speaking of acquired wisdom and life experience. But Gandalf was wont to surprise you with an unexpected smile and a twinkle from blue eyes. Only Gimli and some other old friends of his dared to call him Charlie. He was known as 'the Wizard' within The Council and he commanded the respect and awe of all agents, especially the hobbits.
"Hobbits, so good of you to join us," Gandalf said. "Take a seat and I'll come right to the point. We have a situation on our hands."
While the four young agents shuffled with their chairs around the large conference table, Gandalf typed a command into his computer and a panel on the wall opened up to reveal a large view screen.
"We'll make this brief, hence the word briefing. This, gentlemen, is Alexander Boromir. Ex-soldier, self-made entrepreneur and businessman."
Frodo studied Boromir's image on the screen. The man was tall, blond and extremely good-looking in a lean, masculine way. He appeared tough and no-nonsense, but there was some-thing in his green eyes that spoke of kindness to Frodo.
'A dangerous enemy or a great ally,' the hobbit thought. 'A man who's hard to pin down at first glance."
"Boromir is one of the richest and most powerful men in the world. He operates out of Minas Tirith." Gandalf's gaze was met by four blank stares.
"The capital of Gondor." Gandalf still received only blank stares from the hobbits. What did they teach these young agents nowadays?
"Gondor is a small, a very small country in Europe," he said, sighing.
"I knew that," Pippin piped up, making everybody laugh.
"This man," Gandalf went on, "is Dr. E.S. Aragorn, Nobel Prize scientist, artist, poet and musician. Some people call Dr. Aragorn a genius and renaissance man, some call him a lunatic."
Aragorn looked more like a hippie than like a scientist. He had shoulder-length dark hair and a scruffy beard. A look of intense concentration from blue eyes was focused on the person taking his photograph. Gandalf was right: it was easy to see the genius – or the lunatic – in that man.
"Dr. Aragorn has vanished a month ago. We have reason to believe he is now working for Boromir. Which might pose a problem. Aragorn's latest project is the Reality-Interfering Negative Gravity device. Negative gravity energy has been a theoretical concept so far and is supposed to be safer and cleaner than nuclear energy and ..." Gandalf could see he had lost his audience again. "Oh, well, I am no physicist either! In short, the R.I.N.G. is able to harness immense powers that can be used for almost anything. It could become a dangerous weapon in the wrong hands. Now, I'm sure you all know who the next person is."
The four hobbits looked at the image of a tall, lanky young man with long, silver-blond hair, high cheekbones and blue eyes. Not many people knew his real name, but the whole world knew his face. He called himself Legolas, like Cher had done, or Madonna. Legolas was an international model who'd been on the cover of every major magazine, but also a gifted athlete –he'd won the silver medal in the archery competition of the recent Olympics.
"Four days ago, Legolas was kidnapped. His kidnappers have delivered an ultimatum: either Boromir hands over the R.I.N.G. or they will kill him."
"Excuse me for asking, sir," Sam said, "But what does Legolas have to do with Boromir?"
"That is a very good question, Master Gamgee. You see, Legolas is Boromir's younger brother." Gandalf seemed amused by the astonished silence that followed his announcement. "Boromir wants his brother back, regardless of the cost. He will comply with the kidnappers' demands and give up the device. Now you probably ask yourself how we acquired this information. Well, Boromir himself has contacted us and asked for our help. There's not much we can do as the exchange of Legolas for the R.I.N.G. will already take place tomorrow morning. But we will try to get the R.I.N.G. back."
"And how do you propose we do that?" Pippin asked, his accent thickening. "I mean, we're good, but we're not that good, are we? It's going to be like finding a needle in a haystack."
"We know exactly where to look for that rather special needle. We're up against our old friends from S.A.U.R.O.N. once more," Gandalf said. "The four of you will go to Minas Tirith and Gimli will accompany you. In the meantime I must see the head of The Council. He is knowledgeable and experienced in dealings with S.A.U.R.O.N. Now go, and be ready to be picked up at 5 o'clock tomorrow."
The hobbits quickly filed out of the office, Frodo already worrying about the upcoming mission. He looked up when Merry jabbed an elbow into his side.
"I said, are you coming to Bilbo's party tonight?" Merry asked.
"Are you kidding? We can't go to the party tonight, we're leaving first thing in the morning. We're going on an important mission, against S.A.U.R.O.N.! How can you think of going to a party?" Frodo looked at Merry like the other hobbit had gone mad.
"Oh, come on, Frodo," Pippin said, "you should have a bit of fun before going on this mission ... quest ... thing."
"Yes, come on, Frodo," Sam said, "you really should go. Bilbo would be so disappointed if you didn't come to his birthday party."
Frodo felt himself relent. How was he supposed to say no when Sam looked at him like that? One look from those eyes could melt a stone.
"Okay, you win. I'm going to the party," he said and returned Sam's smile.
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