A/N

I wrote this last year in answer to a lotr fanfiction contest where the rules were to write a one-shot about what any character (besides the canon ring-bearers) would do if they managed to get the ring. I didn't win the contest, but I enjoyed writing it. The world and none of the characters belong to me, because it's fanfiction.

The Fellowship was on the last stages of the journey. They had passed through Moria, and Gandalf had fallen into shadow. They had left Lothlorien by boat, and traveled down the Anduin for a long day. The sunset gleamed through the trees as Sam and Aragorn set up the camp. Boromir was on watch. Merry stared into the fire as Legolas and Gimli talked quietly. Frodo had gone off into the woods and was staring moodily at his burden on the pine needles before him, thinking his own gloomy thoughts.

"Wow," whispered Pippin, coming up behind him, awed. "It's so pretty!"

Frodo did not notice the interuption.

Pippin was staring at the One Ring, which he had never truly seen before. Quietly, subtly, it glowed like a jar of Butterbur's beautiful beer. Pippin could not stop looking at it. It seemed to be whispering to him softly. Slowly, as he stared at it, he seemed to forget all other things, and all he could see was a glowing wheel of gold. He gaped.

Through it, he saw a vision.

"Pippin?" asked Frodo. "The Ring I carry is such a burden. I would never impose on you such a responsibility normally, but there is so much it can do for you. Bring you prestige, wisdom. Not even the elves could surpass you in intelligence!"

"Mr. Peregrin Took? The Lord Elrond asks for your advice in certain matters he thought you would find of interest. In truth, sir, he needs your advice dreadfully! Would you honor him with an appointment?"

"I must see the Lady Galadriel," said Pippin to Haldir as he and the Fellowship entered the forest. It is a matter of great importance."

"Certainly," replied the elf warrior, awed to be in company with such a great personage as Pippin Took himself. "I'll go find her immediately." Observing the rest of the Fellowship he noted, "You all wouldn't mind waiting a bit while Mr. Took comes along with me?"

Fire blazed as the deep drums of the goblins pulsed through the ancient stone. Slowly, a Monster, a Valarauca of Fire and Shadow, emerged from the depths of the Mines of Moria. "Ai, ai, it is a Balrog!" cried Legolas in terror.

"RUN!" screamed Gandalf, as Pippin turned slowly to face the beast. "I am a servant of the Secret Shire, wielder of the Sword from Barrow-downs. You shall not pass! Go back to the Shadow, flame of Udun! YOU SHALL NOT PASS!" He stamped his foot wildly in his rage, and the bridge crumpled beneath his power. The Balrog whimpered and cried for mercy as it fell down into the chasms of Kazadh-dum. Down, down, and it was gone forever, and they were safe, and Gandalf there to guide them.

And Peregrin stood, tall and mighty, out in the sun at the edge of darkness, strong and confident in his own power. He knew that he would never have to feel small, trampled on, or irrelevant anymore. He knew that with this ring, this power, he would live and he would die a hero.

But then, slowly, a seed of doubt began to grow in Pippin's mind. He tried to stop it, to hold on to the feeling of strength and power, but slowly it was replaced with his own desire; his own thoughts. What did he really want?

He remembered a day, back in the beginning of his adventure, when everything was still a game and, together with Merry, Frodo and Sam, he had stopped at the Prancing Pony. It was just before they had first met Strider.

Merry had come back from the bar with a jug bigger than Pippin had ever seen, filled to the brim with frothing ale. "What's that?" Pippin had asked.

"This, my friend, is a pint!" Merry had said gleefully.

"They come in pints? I'm getting one!"

That was the moment Pippin had discovered his first true love. As he continued to stare at the Ring, his mind now filled with images of Butterbur's fantastic ale, frothy and fizzy and lovely... golden...

As if in a trance, Pippin began to walk slowly towards the Ring of Power. His hand stretched itself out automatically. Before Frodo had even realized what was going on, Pippin had taken the Ring, picked it up, and eaten it.

Frodo was speechless with shock.

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"Well," said Bilbo, as he and Frodo sat quietly together in Rivendell, "We certainly had a lovely surprise ending to this tale."

"Yes," returned Frodo happily. "I'm glad it's over. And to believe that, all along, we had thought there was only one way to destroy the Ring!"

"It is," replied Bilbo, "a fortunate matter of fact. Not even the Powers of Darkness could deal with our Pippin's strength of a digestive system."

Frodo laughed. "What I wonder, though," he said thoughtfully, "is what in Arda made him do it."

"We may never know," said Bilbo. "Pippin is a bit hard to understand sometimes. I suppose one day you'll have to ask him."

They continued talking long into the night.