NIER : Je ne posséd pas le Seigneur des Anneaux. Tu ne me poursuivre pas en justice, s'il vous plait.

COMPETITION! Spot the starting paragraphs! Cyber-cookies to the winner! Chocolate chip ones!

Okay, this one's for Ed, my proof-reader. I am thankful to say that you gave this fic back with no more spelling mistakes than when I gave it to you.

The Blatant Rip-Off of the Rings

The Fellowship of the Round Shiny Yellow Thing

Chapter 2: the Big Dark Scary Looming Shadow™ of the Past

Not for the first time, an argument had broken out over breakfast at Backpack Finish.

This time, however, it was not between Fenny and Samantha (who slept over so often she was practically a roommate) over who would have the last slice of toast. No, this time it was full-blown, serious, and unsolvable with a game of rock-paper-scissors.

"You must understand! The Ring is evil!" Gareth cried, indicating the inoffensive bit of jewellery lying on the kitchen table. They all stared at it, except for Poppy, who was eating cookies.

"How can it be evil?" Fenny protested.

Sam nodded in support. "Yeah," she said, "wouldn't it be red and spiky or something?"

Gareth rolled his eyes in exasperation. He'd never realised Chosen Ones could be so dense. "It doesn't have to look evil. The whole point is that it doesn't look evil. But it is, and you four have to destroy it."

Fenny nearly fell off her chair. "Destroy it?"

Megan shrugged. "Well, if it's evil, then we can't leave it lying around. That's if it is evil," she added, looking hard at Gareth who flinched under her glare. Megan had a very potent glare.

"I suppose I'll have to explain," he sighed. All four girls nodded fervently. "Well, long ago, twenty Rings of Power were created. Nine the Dark Lord Susan gave to her sales assistants, and they quickly fell into darkness. Seven she gifted to the Short People. Three the Tall People made, and Susan's hand has never touched nor sullied them."

"That's only nineteen Rings," pointed out Poppy.

"Allow me to finish!" cried Gareth. "As I was saying, there were twenty Rings. The last to be made, and by far the most powerful and dangerous, was the One Ring. One Ring to rule all the others."

"That's an original name," muttered Sam.

"If you wear it, your body becomes kind of transparent, and gloopy like Tasty Wheat and you can fit through the smallest spaces. But if you keep it for too long, you will start spouting annoying catchphrases and eventually fade."

"Fade?"

"Yes, fade, till you were permanently gloopy and transparent. Susan lost the One Ring in an epic battle against an alliance of Tall People and Smelly People. It stayed lost for many centuries, till it was found by a Furry Short Person called Seymour. He moved away from his home to live in a cave, and everyone shunned him and called him Gregory because the Ring made it impossible for him to get a girlfriend."

"The same Gregory that Uncle Bill met?" cried Fenny.

"Gregory was a Furry Short Person too?" asked Poppy, looking around at the well-stocked kitchen and trying to imagine living in a cave.

"Yes, indeed. And Bill also found the Ring, which he kept – not knowing it belonged to Gregory, and before that Susan. He found out later, but by then he was miles away from the cave and there was a postal strike."

"And you think this is the One Ring?" asked Megan sceptically.

"I have my suspicions. There is one test still to make," answered Gareth. He abruptly scooped up the Ring and ran it under the cold tap.

"What the heck…?"

Gareth turned off the cold tap and handed the Ring to Fenny. "What do you see?" Fenny held it up to the light, staring at it. There was nothing: it was just as blank as before. Except…

"There's writing! Writing on the Ring!" she cried. "It's all in symbols, though. I can't read it."

"I can," said Gareth. "And a terrible, harrowing read it makes. It is in the ancient language of Mallmart, which I shall not utter here. In English it runs:

One Ring to Rule them All,

To shamelessly plug them,

One Ring to fool them all,

And on Ebay flog them."

All four friends pulled faces. "That is so not Shakespeare," complained Megan.

"Don't blame me," Gareth defended himself, "I didn't write it."

"What do we do?" Poppy asked fearfully.

Gareth groaned in exasperation. "Haven't you been listening? You must destroy it!"

"Why us?"

"Because I said so. Make for the village of Cheddar. I will meet you there."

"Why don't you just come with us?"

Gareth paused with his hand on the doorknob. "Because that would mean passing up a chance of valuable drama and angst. Now get moving."

"We need to pack, and …"

"Done. Plot hole. I'll meet you at Cheddar with further instructions." And with that, he left. The door swung shut with a thud like the closing of a coffin.

After a few seconds, it opened again. "Forgot my hat," explained Gareth.

The door swung shut.

After waiting a minute to make sure it didn't open again, Fenny turned to her friends. She shoved the Ring, awful poem already fading, into her pocket, hoisted her backpack (which had conveniently appeared, fully packed, on her back), and picked up one of the remaining cookies. "Well," she said to her companions, "we might as well go, then."