DISCLAIMER: I own Lord of the Rings! Wait … aw, crap, I don't.

N/B: this is my first, um, 'feature-length' fic, so please don't kill me if it stinks. I dedicate this to my mum, 'cos I wrote it on her birthday and she's really cool, putting up with my raving even though she doesn't like LOTR. Um … shifts through notes Oh yeah, clears throat "this fanfic is sponsored by Legolocks, for hair so clean that it shines". (That is the quality of the humour, I'm afraid. Run, escape while you still can!) Now, without further ado:

The Blatant Rip-Off of the Rings

The Fellowship of the Round Shiny Yellow Thing

Chapter 1: It's my party and I'll inherit evil jewellery if I want to

It was a bright, cold dawn in September, and the clocks were striking five. The morning peace was shattered by the loud, discordant singing.

"It's my birthday, it's my birthday, it's my bir – ir – ir – irthday…"

Then again, it was rarely peaceful at Backpack Finish.

"Happy birthday to meeeeeeee, I can get a degreeeeeeee! I can drive and shoot fireworks and stuff, happy birthday to meeeeeeee!"

No-one could remember why the house was called Backpack Finish: apparently it had, for reasons unfathomable, seemed like A Good Idea At The Time.

"I'll! Have! The time of my li-i-ife! And I –"

The impromptu singing ended abruptly as Fenchurch tripped over a sleeping bag. It said, "Ow".

"Sammy! Wake up!" Fenny bounced to her feet – she had a habit of bouncing everywhere – and rolled Samantha over and over. Sam crawled painfully out of the blankets.

"What time is it?" she glared blearily at her watch. "Oh wow. You gave me a lie-in this year."

"I forgot to set my alarm. Come on! Presents!"

Fenny's uncle Bill was up too, but that was probably because he didn't sleep much. The poor guy was practically insomniac. Sam reckoned it was eighteen years with Fenny bouncing everywhere.

Bill welcomed them into the living room with his usual good-natured dazedness, and then wandered off, bidding them a vague "Merry Christmas" as they handed him his presents. Sam wondered if Bill even remembered it was his birthday too.

"The big 5 – 0," Fenny explained. "He's probably trying not to think about it. He doesn't really do birthdays much: just Christmas, and sometimes Easter."

The sofa was already piled high with gifts from Fenny's assorted aunts, uncles, and third cousins sixteen times removed, plus Sam's gift. Fenny's family was pretty rich, not to mention extended.

"Even the S-B's have sent one," Sam exclaimed. The Snobbyston-Backpacks, Fenchurch Backpack's obscure mother's – brother's – wife's – sister's cousins, were famous for their stinginess. (Except for their son Lox, who was famous for his extreme generosity in pulling the wings off of flies.)

Fenny just grinned like a Cheshire cat. "Care to join me?"

"No reason why not."

"Dig in," Fenny laughed and they both hurled themselves at the mountain of brightly wrapped and beribboned parcels.

It was a couple of hours later when Megan and Poppy appeared, each clutching a box. The wrapping paper had fluffy bunnies in blue waistcoats dancing on it.

"Mum's been wrapping stuff for Christmas already, and we thought it'd be cool to send Lox something in this." Poppy displayed the awful paper with a flourish.

"We wouldn't have sent him anything at all, but dad was going on about honour-bound family ties and all," put in Megan, rolling her eyes. She and Poppy were sisters-in-law, and cousins with Fenny.

"Problem is, we ran out of all the decent paper and there wasn't anything else to wrap your present in," Poppy concluded apologetically. Megan nodded.

"Anything to bring a bit of suffering to the life of Wart," Fenny grinned. Sam, Poppy and Megan walked inside. Fenny bounced inside.

No sooner had they reached the living-room than the doorbell rang. The harmonic bars of Swan Lake drifted through the house as Bill hurried to the door. The four heard it creak open (the best carpenter in Europe hadn't been able to fix that creak). Then:

"Gareth!"

"Bill!" The voice was gravely and good-humoured, but worried.

"Gareth, where have you been? I haven't seen you in years!"

Bill's light footsteps echoed down the hall, followed by the clump, clump of a much heavier tread. They reached the door to the living-room, and Bill's voice floated through. "You just wait in there, and I'll put the kettle on…"

"This cannot wait." Gareth sounded urgent. "I have grave tidings."

"Well, come on into the living room and…"

Gareth must have heard Fenny & co. in there, for he interrupted: "grave private tidings."

Poppy, Megan, Sam and Fenny all grinned at each other, then as one they scuttled towards the kitchen where Bill and Gareth had headed. Hiding behind a huge old wooden trunk, they could hear every word spoken.

"How are you anyway?" Bill asked as he made tea and piled cookies onto a plate. "I haven't seen you since we got lost in the mountains that time, with Timmy and his brothers, remember…"

"I am fine." Gareth was brushing his head on the ceiling even when he was sitting down: Fenny reckoned he must be either a Tall Person or a Smelly Person. He was definitely not a Furry Short Person like herself, her uncle and her friends. "It is you, Bill, that I am concerned about. How are you feeling?"

"Oh, fine. Never felt better, in fact. Cookie? I baked them myself."

Gareth seemed a bit put out by this. "No lingering feeling you've lost something? No momentary fangs? No thinness? Come on, there must be something."

Bill shrugged. "No, not really. Do you want milk in your tea?"

"What? No, I'm lactose-intolerant. So, could you lend me your ring a moment?"

"What ring?"

"Aha! Denial!" Gareth exclaimed triumphantly. "Believe me, Bill, I think you've had this ring long enough. Too long, if it has had such a grievous effect on you."

Bill, meanwhile, had been searching through his pockets. He brought out something shiny. "You mean this ring? You can have that, I got it in a cracker ages ago. It's only plastic anyway."

"No, you got it from the creature Gregory, who you had a riddle-contest with from which you only just escaped with your life! Is this not that ring?"

"Oh, that ring! I thought you meant the…"

Gareth rubbed his nose wearily. "Just get it out."

"Here it is." Bill produced a ring from his breast-pocket, and it shone like the sun, reflecting the light so that it looked like molten gold. It was a perfect, unbroken circle, with not a hair-scratch to mar its beautiful smooth gold perfection.

Sam punched Fenny's arm, and she realised she'd been staring with her mouth open.

Bill was talking again. "There's no need to be melodramatic. Gregory was quite a nice boy, by all accounts, even if he did need to get out in the sun a little more often. He showed me the way out of that cave, remember? I'd have been done for if I hadn't met him."

Gareth obviously decided to change the subject for the moment. "Do you mean to go on with your plan?"

"Well, I do need a good long holiday, and since Fenny can look after herself I thought I'd ask if she wants to have the place to herself for a while. I wasn't planning on going yet though. I can't leave on her birthday! No, that wouldn't do. It wouldn't be fair on Fenny. She's a sensitive girl at heart, you know…"

"I think it would be for the best to leave as soon as possible. I've booked you a suite in the Hotel de Brookdale. There's a taxi outside. I've paid the driver. Go as soon as possible."

Bill raised his eyebrows. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to spirit me away, Gareth."

"No, but it is a good idea to go as soon as possible. They have extensive kitchens at Brookdale," Gareth added. "With full kitchen privileges to all guests."

"Really?" Bill's face lit up like a sunrise. "Full kitchen privileges?"

"And a multi-cultural salad bar," added Gareth.

Bill's eyes shone. "I'll have to pack," he began.

"Done."

"How?"

"Plot hole. I will look after Fenny."

"Can't I at least leave her a note? She will want to know where I am."

"Done." Gareth handed Bill his suitcases and ushered him towards the back door. "Have a nice trip."

Bill hesitated a second more then, with much coaxing from Gareth, walked out of the door. It closed with great finality.

Gareth stood in the kitchen for a moment staring at it. Then he swore and hurried after Bill.

Fenny jumped to her feet. "He can't just leave! Where is he going?"

Sam, Megan and Poppy also leapt up. Megan ran to the back door, yanked it open and ran out, followed closely by Poppy. Sam pulled at Fenny's arm. "Come on! We can catch up with them!"

Fenny allowed herself to be pulled towards the door. "He didn't even say goodbye!" Then she shook herself and grabbed the door-handle. "Uncle Bill!"

Before she could turn the handle, the door burst open and Gareth strode in, carrying the ring. He balanced it gingerly on his hand as if it were about to burst into flame. Fenny and Sam squeaked in surprise and dived beneath the table.

Ceremoniously dumping the ring on the kitchen worktop, Gareth spun around to see what the squeaking and rustling was about. He advanced towards the table.

Outside, Poppy knocked a bin over.

Gareth leapt out of his skin and ran once more out of the back door. Poppy and Megan slipped in.

"He's gone," Poppy reported of Bill. "He gave his ring to that Gareth guy –"

"Dropped it," corrected Megan. "And man, was it sticking to his fingers!"

"– then he drove off in the taxi."

"I've never seen him move so fast. He looked scared of the freaking thing, once he'd let go of it."

The ring was pleasantly cool and smooth and surprisingly heavy in Fenny's fingers. The air around it seemed to shimmer, as if in a heat haze.

"Fenny?" Sam ventured uncertainly.

Fenny stroked the ring gently and it glowed like molten gold. She could have sworn it was purring.

A heavy hand roughly grabbed her shoulder and her fingers curled protectively around the ring as she looked up, startled.

"Oh crap," said Gareth.