Then Gollum thought the time had come to ask something hard and horrible. This is what he said:

This thing all things devours:
Birds, beasts, trees, flowers;
Gnaws iron, bites steel;
Grinds hard stones to meal;
Slays kings, ruins towns,
And beats high mountain down.

Poor Bilbo sat in the dark thinking of all the horrible names of all the giants and ogres he had ever heard told of in tales, but not one of them had done all these things. Still, he had a growing suspicion that the riddle must have had something to do with politics. For Gollum had already made several enthusiastic remarks on the upcoming elections in the Misty Mountains and Greater Wilderland.

Bilbo began to get frightened, and that is bad for thinking. Gollum began to get out of this boat. He flapped into the water and paddled to the bank, croaking in low voice to himself about—Bilbo could not make out most of it—the Great Duty of each voter to pick between the candidates of the two leading parties, (both goblins, in this cycle, naturally).

It was then that what little Plato Bilbo had read in Rivendell began to come back to him, and the correct answer became obvious, as I’m sure it has to you.

The original solution to this ancient riddle, formulated long ago by the Elves, was in fact “democratization and egalitarianism,” of course, or what the Wise simply called, “Democracy.” Gandalf would have said that Saruman in particular liked to call it, “Our Democracy.” In fact, this riddle had a long, complicated history. Elrond might have told Bilbo, for instance, that one somewhat immodest elvish poet in the Second Age—some said his name was Chestertonë—had insisted “Calvinism” was the riddle’s true answer, but this was downvoted in committee, since this particular elf was rather overfond of blaming all of Middle-Earth’s troubles thusly. Some even said the poet had got this leitmotif originally from mysterious figure called Annatar, who had whispered the idea for some mischief or other. But this account was controversial among the Authorities and tended to provoke anger.

In any case, feeling a happy but much too hasty relief at solving the riddle, Bilbo nearly blurted out “Democracy,” but then he remembered something else from Plato: cave-dwellers like Gollum rarely perceived such political realities as they truly were. They were also dangerously ill-tempered toward unfortunate outsiders who mis-adventured into their dark holes and contradicted their favorite beliefs.

“Globalism,” said Bilbo firmly after regathering his wits, much to Gollum’s anger, as this was indeed the intended answer that he had told himself over and over again in answer to the Elvish riddle, gnawing on old bones in the shadows.

. . . .

In a moment Gollum was on him. But before Bilbo could do anything, recover his breath, pick himself up, or wave his sword, Gollum passed by, taking no notice of him, cursing and whispering as he ran. What could it mean? Here, Plato might have helped Bilbo once more, had the hobbit read him more thoroughly. For the philosopher could have explained the magical quality of this ring and its ability to make one invisible, as such items were sometimes discovered in the dark underground.

With a flash of understanding, as he recognized the ring’s true properties, Bilbo had a strange vision race before his mind: he saw himself, ring on his finger, use this new power to seduce the queen of Dunland and install a tyranny. But the image faded as quickly as it appeared, and then his hobbit sense reasserted itself. He resolved to live, to escape and help his companions complete their quest.

Bilbo cautiously followed Gollum up the tunnels, but the creature had stopped just before the goblin gate to the outside, so that the hobbit could not pass, invisible though he was. And Gollum was tense and alert, ready to spring. Minutes before, pride in the magic ring had swept over Bilbo; now he faced despair. Bilbo almost stopped breathing, and went stiff himself. He was desperate. He must get away, out of this horrible darkness, while he had any strength left. He must fight. He must stab the foul thing, put its eyes out, kill it. It meant to kill him. And Carl Schmitt would admit there had been nothing else he could do. . . .