[ WP ] Tell the story of an adventure in a fantasy world has advanced to become an interstellar civilization , using magic , not technology .

Frodo had never been on a ship this big before. He'd certainly never been on the bulbous bridge of an elven capital ship, with towering synthglass panels on all sides curving up impossibly and meeting a hundred feet above his head. The view out the front of the bridge made his stomach pinch. There they were: the Pillars of Creation, close enough to fill his entire field of view, gold and fluffy and immeasurably, unbearably huge. 
 
 `` It is a gift!'' shouted Boromir, the headstrong eldest son of Gondor's king. `` A gift to the foes of Mordor. Why not use this ring?'' 
 
 Frodo eyed the ring. It sat, gleaming dully, atop the plinth in the center of the bridge where he'd placed it a minute ago. Releasing it from his possession had left him with the most queasy feeling, his bones transformed to rubber. 
 
 `` You can not wield it,'' said Aragorn, sitting back, still wrapped in the Star Ranger's dark green coat that accompanied him everywhere. `` None of us can. The Ring answers to Sauron alone.'' 
 
 Frodo would have sworn that the ring shone brighter for a moment when Aragorn pronounced its master's name. 
 
 Ah, Space Christ. This was no place for a hobbit. Frodo's people were wayfarers, nomads. Life in zero G had left them smaller and more compact than these towering land-dwelling specimens. A hobbit's bones were short and stout, though not as thick or durable as a dwarf's. It was an excess of gravity that led to the stocky stature of the dwarves, who made their living excavating deep beneath the surface of dense metal planets. 
 
 It was the dwarves, thought Frodo, with whom he identified most closely. Simple, proud people who made an honest living, without any of the high-tech dalliances of the elves, or the unblinking arrogance of the pure-humans. 
 
 If you'd told Frodo two weeks ago that he would be here, right now, his mates Sam and Merry and Pippin taking a tour of the engine room, and him standing on the bridge himself, surrounded by the galaxy's most important people -- he would have told you to shove it up your exhaust pipe. Their ship had barely made it from the Shire in one piece, hounded as they were by the silent black frigates that Gandalf said were piloted by Sauron's top commanders. If not for the assistance of Aragorn, who'd guided them from jump point to jump point in his muted silver corsair Anduril, and even fended off the Black Riders alone for a few minutes while Frodo and the others dealt with an overheated hyperdrive, they would be nothing but molecules floating, miles apart, through the dead, empty vacuum. 
 
 What brought Frodo's attention back to the discussion at hand was the sudden movement of Gimli, one of the dwarves, who lunged out of his seat, violet light-axe crackling to life, and brought the sizzling blade down on the ring with all the force his burly arms could muster. 
 
 There was a searing screech, and a crack, as the light-axe scoured a deep rut into the plinth. The ring, struck full force, simply scooted a few inches to the side and arrested itself. 
 
 `` Oh, great,'' said Legolas, the snootiest elf Frodo had ever met. `` Typical dwarf.'' 
 
 Before Gimli could respond, Elrond rose to his feet, extending a hand that silenced everyone at once. 
 
 `` The Ring can not be destroyed, Gimli, son of Gloin, by any craft that we here possess,'' said Elrond, his voice assuming a supremely patronizing tone that Frodo prayed was unintentional. 
 
 `` The Ring,'' continued Elrond, `` was made in the fires of the galaxy's core. Only there can it be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the supermassive black hole from whence it came.'' 
 
 Acrid smoke rose up from the ruined plinth's black gash. The smell -- like an overclocked supercomputer thinking itself to death -- seemed out of place on the glittering bridge. 
 
 `` One of you,'' said Elrond, `` must do this.'' 
 
 The words hung in the air, fat and unpleasant. 
 
 `` One does not simply fly into Mordor,'' said Boromir after a while. `` Its systems are guarded by more than just orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep, and the great eye is ever watchful. It's a barren wasteland, riddled with fire and ash and dust. Not with a fleet of ten thousand carriers could you do this.'' 
 
 `` Did you hear nothing Lord Elrond said?'' shouted Legolas, leaping to his feet, his long blond hair billowing. `` The Ring must be destroyed!'' 
 
 `` And I suppose you think you're the one to do it,'' said Gimli. 
 
 In a flash they were all bickering, even Gandalf, who Frodo had never taken for the argumentative type. Normally Frodo would have enjoyed this -- not every day did the highest and mightiest dwellers of the universe embarrass themselves in front of a humble Hobbit -- but for some reason he'd developed a thrumming, red-hot headache. After a while their shouts and sneers became too much for him to stand. 
 
 `` Ah, fuck,'' he shouted, `` I'll take the damn thing.'' 
 
 Everyone stopped -- Legolas even left his mouth hanging open mid-insult -- and stared at him. 
 
 `` The condition is that you all have to shut up, though,'' grumbled Frodo.
