A/N: Thanks for all the reviews, people. I sure do appreciate it. And, as
promised, this chapter is much longer than the prologue, for those of you
who were scared that the entire story was gonna be put up in little 50-word
installments :P
Disclaimers: I have no connection to the dead body of J.R.R. Tolkein, the alive bodies of his next of kin, or any person involved with any aspect of the production of the books and/or movies. I'm getting no money, some acknowledgement (thanks again for the reviews!), and hardly any recognition. It may seem like I'm getting the bad end of the deal, except I do get to say that I own this fic and I fuckin' love how it's turning out, so there.
Chapter 1: The Beginning ~ ~ ~
Once upon a time, there lived a very macho, tough-guy type sort of man. He was the type who would pride himself on having a dirty and dented suit of armour and a face full of stubble, the type who spits and grunts and lifts random heavy objects just for the sake of looking manly, the type who purposely misses baths and showers in order to look (and smell) rugged.
This strong, masculine, manly man, most manly of all men, was one day struck with a very strong urge to make sparkly jewelry. Ahem. Like most manly men would, he tried to ignore it. But alas for poor Sauron, the urge grew and grew and grew. And grew. So he tried to cover it up with much grunting and clutching of the crotch while standing in manly poses. Yet the urge kept on growing. It got to the point where his throat was really really sore from grunting so much, and his crotch was really really really sore from all the clutching. And so one day, he caved. He just couldn't help it anymore. He made a bunch of pretty rings, and immediately felt better than he had for weeks.
As soon as his head was clear again, though, he realized just how bad it would look for a man of his manliness and stature to be found making slightly effeminate jewelry. So, he rounded up a bunch of people and spent the better part of the day trying to get them to take the rings. He bribed them ("take them and you'll be rich beyond your wildest dreams!"), he lied to them ("take them and I'll be your best friend forever!"), he even threatened them ("a thousand horrible castration curses will fall upon you and all those around you unless you take this damn ring"). Finally, he gave one last attempt. He told them that the rings will give them lots and lots of power to rule over people. That convinced them right quick. And so, he rid himself of the rings.
Unfortunately for him, the urge to make more jewelry struck again, and that was how I was born. He made me in the deepest fires of Mt. Doom, being too cheap to buy a proper anvil and hearth. *And*, the second I solidified, he named me Alfonso. I don't really hold a great love for him. Besides, I don't know why he even bothered, because everyone insists on calling me One Ring, capital "O" capital "R" anyways.
The only thing I really admired about Sauron was that he was one incredible liar. Within a few months of birthing me, he had the whole damn world convinced that I had the power to bestow world domination. Well, I guess it helped that he also happened to be king of everything at the time. But that was purely coincidental. Truth is, I'm just a ring. A damn sexy ring, a very attractive and gorgeous and smart and wonderful ring, mind you, but not magical. Contrary to popular belief, Sauron didn't prey on the mortal desire for power. He preyed on the mortal tendency for laziness. See, everyone wants to rule the Earth, but no one wants to do what it takes. All that dirty work, all that blood, all the fighting and planning and gasping and wheezing, all that exercise. People with asthma or obesity problems would never be able to pull it off. But with a magic ring, all that wheezing and exercising can be skipped.
Funny how people ended up fighting and gasping and wheezing for the non- existent magical ring. Go figure. They could've just attacked Sauron for the throne instead of attacking Sauron for me. Idiots.
Eventually, some scruffy guy with asthma, I think his name was Isildur something or the other, killed Sauron. Sort of. Actually, he poked Sauron with a broken sword, and Mr. Manly Man crumpled like a weakling. Ha. Then, the scruffy dude hacked off the finger I lived on, and my home since birth disintegrated into lumps of coal. Bitch. The evil home-destroyer then tried to murder me in cold blood, but I, being very cunning and talented, managed to talk him out of it. The whole "I can help you take over the world" thing helped, I'll admit. Everyone believed it, and it was because of this lie that I managed to stay alive.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ TBC
How was that? Next chapter's coming soon!
Disclaimers: I have no connection to the dead body of J.R.R. Tolkein, the alive bodies of his next of kin, or any person involved with any aspect of the production of the books and/or movies. I'm getting no money, some acknowledgement (thanks again for the reviews!), and hardly any recognition. It may seem like I'm getting the bad end of the deal, except I do get to say that I own this fic and I fuckin' love how it's turning out, so there.
Chapter 1: The Beginning ~ ~ ~
Once upon a time, there lived a very macho, tough-guy type sort of man. He was the type who would pride himself on having a dirty and dented suit of armour and a face full of stubble, the type who spits and grunts and lifts random heavy objects just for the sake of looking manly, the type who purposely misses baths and showers in order to look (and smell) rugged.
This strong, masculine, manly man, most manly of all men, was one day struck with a very strong urge to make sparkly jewelry. Ahem. Like most manly men would, he tried to ignore it. But alas for poor Sauron, the urge grew and grew and grew. And grew. So he tried to cover it up with much grunting and clutching of the crotch while standing in manly poses. Yet the urge kept on growing. It got to the point where his throat was really really sore from grunting so much, and his crotch was really really really sore from all the clutching. And so one day, he caved. He just couldn't help it anymore. He made a bunch of pretty rings, and immediately felt better than he had for weeks.
As soon as his head was clear again, though, he realized just how bad it would look for a man of his manliness and stature to be found making slightly effeminate jewelry. So, he rounded up a bunch of people and spent the better part of the day trying to get them to take the rings. He bribed them ("take them and you'll be rich beyond your wildest dreams!"), he lied to them ("take them and I'll be your best friend forever!"), he even threatened them ("a thousand horrible castration curses will fall upon you and all those around you unless you take this damn ring"). Finally, he gave one last attempt. He told them that the rings will give them lots and lots of power to rule over people. That convinced them right quick. And so, he rid himself of the rings.
Unfortunately for him, the urge to make more jewelry struck again, and that was how I was born. He made me in the deepest fires of Mt. Doom, being too cheap to buy a proper anvil and hearth. *And*, the second I solidified, he named me Alfonso. I don't really hold a great love for him. Besides, I don't know why he even bothered, because everyone insists on calling me One Ring, capital "O" capital "R" anyways.
The only thing I really admired about Sauron was that he was one incredible liar. Within a few months of birthing me, he had the whole damn world convinced that I had the power to bestow world domination. Well, I guess it helped that he also happened to be king of everything at the time. But that was purely coincidental. Truth is, I'm just a ring. A damn sexy ring, a very attractive and gorgeous and smart and wonderful ring, mind you, but not magical. Contrary to popular belief, Sauron didn't prey on the mortal desire for power. He preyed on the mortal tendency for laziness. See, everyone wants to rule the Earth, but no one wants to do what it takes. All that dirty work, all that blood, all the fighting and planning and gasping and wheezing, all that exercise. People with asthma or obesity problems would never be able to pull it off. But with a magic ring, all that wheezing and exercising can be skipped.
Funny how people ended up fighting and gasping and wheezing for the non- existent magical ring. Go figure. They could've just attacked Sauron for the throne instead of attacking Sauron for me. Idiots.
Eventually, some scruffy guy with asthma, I think his name was Isildur something or the other, killed Sauron. Sort of. Actually, he poked Sauron with a broken sword, and Mr. Manly Man crumpled like a weakling. Ha. Then, the scruffy dude hacked off the finger I lived on, and my home since birth disintegrated into lumps of coal. Bitch. The evil home-destroyer then tried to murder me in cold blood, but I, being very cunning and talented, managed to talk him out of it. The whole "I can help you take over the world" thing helped, I'll admit. Everyone believed it, and it was because of this lie that I managed to stay alive.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ TBC
How was that? Next chapter's coming soon!