Samwise Gangee stood there, staring down at the small, golden ring he’d just pulled from the pocket of a plain white shirt. His first reaction was disbelief, a shocked laugh that caught in his throat. _This couldn’t be,_ he thought. _That’s just a story… right?_ But there it was in his hand, as real as the lint he usually pulled from these pockets.

A thousand scenarios flashed through his mind. But his smile faded as the weight of the ring settled in his palm, cold and ominous. He began to wonder if the ring was even real. If it was, then maybe other things from the story were too. Perhaps there really were dark forces still lurking somewhere, Sauron’s descendants, or something worse, waiting for the ring to fall into the wrong hands.

Just as his thoughts turned to dread, the door chimed, and the white-haired stranger stepped back inside. Sam looked up, frozen, the ring still clutched in his fingers. The stranger’s piercing gaze fell on the ring, then lifted to meet Sam’s eyes.

In a voice both apologetic and firm, the stranger said, “I need the ring back. I was just informed… you are not the person I thought you were… Mr. Samwise Gangee. With an N.”

For a moment, Sam’s mind spun, caught between disbelief, embarrassment, and a faint sense of relief. He extended the ring, almost glad to be rid of it, and muttered, “Aye, with an N. I’ll leave the heroics to the other one, if it’s all the same.”