[On a bedside table, a hand folds back a homespun cloth to reveal a short sword in a scabbard. Bilbo picks it up and hands it to Frodo.]

Bilbo: "My old sword, Sting! Here! Take it, take it!"

[Frodo unsheathes the sword and examines it. It rings as Frodo draws it, glinting.]

Frodo: "It's so light!"

Bilbo: "Yes… yea — made by the Elves, you know. The blade glows blue when Orcs are close. And it's times like that, my lad, when you have to be extra careful!"

[Bilbo brings out a mail shirt. It shines, simple, yet beautifully adorned with intricate patterns in the mail.]

Bilbo: "Here's a pretty thing — Mithril! As light as a feather… and as hard as dragon scales! Let me see you put it on. Come on."

[Frodo begins to unbutton his shirt. As he does, the Ring is revealed. Bilbo sees it.]

Bilbo: "Oh… M-my old Ring! Oh, I sh-sh-should very much like… to hold it again, one last time."

[Bilbo's eyes light up and he wrings his hands, his eyes focused on the Ring. Frodo begins to cover it up. Bilbo smiles faintly in an almost grandfatherly manner. Suddenly, transformed by the power of the Ring, he lashes out. His eyes grow round, ringed in purple shadows, his teeth are like yellowed fangs in his mouth, stretched open wide as he utters a strangled cry.]

[Frodo, startled, backs away, clutching his hand over the Ring. Bilbo returns to normal. Bilbo's eye show surprise at his transformation. He cowers back, his voice strained.]

Bilbo: "I'm sorry I brought this upon you, my boy… I'm sorry that you must carry this burden."

[He sits down on the bed, weeping.]

Bilbo: "I'm sorry for everything!"

[Frodo places a reassuring hand on Bilbo's shoulder. Bilbo reaches back and puts his own hand on Frodo's. He continues to weep in sorrow.]