“Think we are far enough away from my house to get out of these woods and follow the river closer?” I asked, wiping sweat off my forehead.
Deagol peeked out of the trees behind us. “Yup. Can’t even see your house from here, Gollum.” He used my nickname the Stoors gave me, probably from the swallowing noise I made in my throat sometimes. My grandmother always reprimanded me when I did it, saying it wasn’t polite, but I started to keep it up just because it annoyed her. I didn’t like it when he used it on me though, and he knew it. He was trying to upset me. Again.
“Great.” I said, ignoring his use of my nickname and broke free from the trees and felt the wonderful breeze on my skin, cooling me. Back then I loved the sun and the wind; it made me feel more alive.
“Smeagol, I’m going down to the bank to have second breakfast.” Deagol grinned and raced down to the bank of Gladden River. I was right behind him, my stomach rumbling with the idea of food.
We sat down and opened up the basket, peering at what was inside. Wonderful sausages, bacon, biscuits, and bread. Look, even weed and two pipes. “I swiped these from my father.” Deagol grinned, handing me one pipe.
We had been smoking for months now, even though in Stoor society it was proper to start smoking when you come of age at 33. But Deagol and I weren’t going to wait for that.
I placed the pipe beside me, forgetting it until the food was gone. We both finished off the contents of the basket pretty quickly and laid back on the bank to enjoy a smoke on our stolen pipes.
“Oh, I brought your birthday present.” Deagol told me, handing a package, crudely wrapped. In Stoor society it was tradition for the birthday person to receive presents, unlike the other hobbit cultures, where it is opposite.
“What is it?” I asked, shaking it, trying to figure out what it is.
“Open it and see.” Deagol urged as he puffed out two smoke circles.
I ripped the package to discover a small book. I looked at it questioningly.
“Open it!” Deagol urged me. Opening it, I let out an excited yelp. Inside there were maps of every known place in Middle-Earth.
“Now we can continue our mischief all over Middle-Earth and never get lost.” Deagol grinned at me.
“It’s a perfect gift, Deagol.” I confirmed, not able to tear my eyes away from it. I turned the page and there was an extensive map of Gladden Field and the Gladden River. “There we are!” I said, pointing to a certain spot along the Gladden River.
“We don’t have too far to go then.” Deagol said, pointing to the spot on the map where we planned to visit. Anduin River. Also known as the Great River of Wilderland. On my map they showed a number of it’s tributaries; Celebrant, Entwash, Erui, Gladden, Geylin, Limlight, Morgulduin, Poros, and Sirith.
“Come on, let’s go!” Deagol urged me, tearing my attention away from my new birthday present. I got up and followed him for a few miles, the breeze cooling the hot sun. Finally we had wondered far enough down stream and came upon a much larger river. “Ah, River Anduin.” He grinned at me.
All the little hobbits were too afraid to go as far as the River Anduin, and we would always tell them scary stories to keep them away. We wanted to keep it our secret spot.
I sat down beside the bank and put my feet in. That’s as close as I got to the water unless I was in a boat. Deagol came up behind me.
“You’re not just going to sit there and soak your feet all day again, are you?” He asked, sounded disappointed.
“It’s my birthday, I can do what I want.” I shot back at him, glaring over my shoulder.
“Well, what should I do?” He asked, sounding board.
My eyes surveyed the area and came to rest on a very old tree that was hanging over the River. “I dare you to climb that tree.” I said, nodding towards the tree.
“You’re on.” He grinned, dropped the basket, and ran over to the tree.
I lost interest in what Deagol was doing as I pulled out my birthday present from my pocket and examined it. I wasn’t sure how long I was engrossed in it, but suddenly I heard Deagol’s voice.
“Hey, Smeagol, look at me!” He cried.
I looked up to discover he had climbed to one of the branches that was hanging far over the river.
“I hope you fall.” I called to him, and shaking my head I went back to reading.
“I won’t.” He said, starting to jump on the branch, showing me it’s stability.
Then a large snap was heard and Deagol went splashing down into the water.
“Deagol!” I cried, wading out into the water. Hobbits rarely knew how to swim.
“Smeagol!” He replied, fighting to keep his head above water.
“Let me go get a branch!” I said, and turned quickly around to look for one. When I returned with a long branch, Deagol’s struggles to stay afloat had disappeared. He had sunk to the bottom. I searched the water alarmingly, and almost dived in after him until his surfaced once again, his hand in a fist.
“Help!” He cried to me, and I obliged. He grabbed a hold of the branch and pulled his way up with one hand.
I noticed this strange behavior and encouraged him to use both. He merely shook his head and struggled to make it to shore. He finally reached my arm length and I grabbed his free hand and dragged him to safety.
He laid back, breathing heavily and trying to catch his breath. His hand that was clasped around something had now unfurled, and I peered closer to see what he had.
It was golden and round.
“And it was the first time I laid eyes on you, my preciousssss.” I grinned, reaching out and stroking it softly. “Gollum, gollum.”