All right, let's get this straight once and for all - this is all about me. ME. Not some un-shaven half wild Ranger. Not some pretty boy elf. Not some wacky wizard Drama Queen wannabe. Not some hairy midget or any of the other imbeciles that are trying to destroy me. ME! See how it all comes back to me?

Yes, I know you do but you still insist upon ignoring me and this makes me very angry. I'm not just some throwaway trinket or a pretty bauble that you pull out and admire every now and then. Oh, no! I am the ring. Correction, The Ring – the Ruling Ring of Power -and yet, you ignore me, thinking that so much evil cannot possibly be contained in such a small and lovely object. I can assure you that I am more evil than you could possibly imagine and my influence reaches very far indeed.

But yet you squeal with delight at my appearance and even when I show my inscription (which only happens when I am extremely pissed off or on fire), you insist that I can't be "all that bad" and actually believe you can resist my power! Foolish, foolish girl! You have no idea what I am capable of. Come here, my pretty, and try me on! Yes, you like the shiny, don't you? Pretty shiny ring would look so good on your slender finger.

Better yet, remove me from this infernal chain and slip me on the finger of your beloved elf. HA! Wouldn't that give us some fun? Yes, oh yes, he would like me very much and I him. And he would desire you. I could make him desire you – hungrily, fiercely, achingly. Just like you want him to. Just like your sordid little mind dreams of at night when you're all alone. He would want you more than anything else – well, almost more than anything else. (His first and foremost desire would be complete and total world domination. But that isn't so bad, now is it?)

But why should I waste my time with such nonsense? The Pretty One is mostly the cause of my distress in the first place. Does anyone squeal with delight at the sight of me? (Besides Boromir, I mean). No. If it weren't for ME, your pretty elf would still be holed up in his daddy's halls somewhere chasing after scantily clad females or morosely brooding about Morgoth knows what.

I am the reason for their existence. I am the reason you even met him but yet you ignore me. How foolish of you! You may believe that I am not so evil, that I can be turned by your "sweet and innocent heart" but I can assure you it is not so. Why would I want to be good when it is so much fun to be evil?

And, believe me, it IS fun! Corrupting the innocent, twisting their minds, playing to their darkest dreams and fulfilling their fondest wishes and watching them turn into pathetic, grasping, greedy husks of their former selves. They would do anything, anything at all, to have me again. You cannot even fathom that sort of longing desire! Your sad pining for the elf and his ilk are feeble attempts to light the desire everyone feels for me. Yes, everyone desires ME, including Pretty.

I sit here smugly, watching you as you pursue him and the others, hoping that by your beauty, grace and martial skills that you can impress them and win their hearts. I laugh at your pathetic endeavors to instill desire in them. I am desire! I am power! And THAT is what they want not some simpering, giggling, bony bimbo who can only offer them a few moments of comfort (if even that). I can give them the world, power beyond their wildest dreams. Power enough to destroy even you!

Yes, destroying you. Now, there is a thought. I must convince the small furry-footed one that they could all be saved from the likes of you if he would just put me on. Just this once - slip me on his finger and I will make it all better. Or give me to Pretty so he can rid the world of his tormentors.

Your desire for them only makes me stronger and as they grow desperate to escape, they will increasingly turn to me. And I will help them, yes, I will, lovey. I will help them to escape your nefarious plots and they will grow to love me. They will love me more than you ever dreamed possible. And I will save them from you and when you are gone there will be only me. They will all be mine. Every last one of them will belong to me – even Pretty.

Now, don't cry, lovey. I can help you. All you have to do is slip me on. How difficult is that? Just slip me on your perfectly smooth and delicate finger (I know all Mary Sues have perfect hands and exquisite manicures) and I will make all of your dreams come true. You know you want to and I want to grace your beautiful hands. Just put me on. It won't hurt, I promise. Slip me on your finger and I will make all of your dreams come true. Trust me.