“What is that?” I asked, poking at the golden round thing that was in Deagol’s hand.
He shook his head, and waiting a few beats before answering. “It’s a ring.”
“It’s beautiful.” I breathed. Something stirred within me, something scary. I felt like I had to have it. It was apart of me and I was apart of it.
“I found it at the bottom of the river.” He explained, sitting up. The feeling grew stronger as I stared at it longer.
“C-can I see it?” I stuttered, trying to keep the urgency out of my voice.
“Why should I?” He asked me, grinning. I knew he was teasing me like he always did, but anger flared up deep inside me.
“Because I asked to see it.” I said, my tooth digging into my lower lip.
“No, you can’t.” He snapped as he slipped the ring into his breast pocket.
My heartbeat started to quicken, the feeling grew so strong. “You should give it to me, for a birthday present.” I reasoned with him.
“I already gave you your birthday present.” He said, rolling his eyes. “Remember that book?”
My anger reached a new level and I snapped. “Give it to me.” I growled, making the gollum noise in my throat.
“No way.” He said, turning his back to me.
“Don’t turn your back to me, Deagol.” I hissed in his ear, threatening him. The gollum noise was growing louder and louder in my throat.
“Don’t think you are going to frighten me with that..” Deagol said as he turned around and looked at me. I saw the realization in his eyes when he figured out I wasn’t kidding.
“No. I almost drowned, I found it, I should keep it.” He said stubbornly and stood up.
At that the feeling inside of me grew so strong I let out a scream of hate and tackled Deagol to the ground, pinning him there and snarling in his face.
“Let me have it!” I demanded one last time.
He shook his head, fear filling his eyes. “It’s just a ring, Smeagol.” He tried to reason with me, but by then I was beyond reasoning.
I was at my last straw. My fingers found his neck and I started to squeeze. Deagol struggled in vain to be let go, but my anger fueled my physical strength. He writhed underneath me as I pressed harder and harder into his neck. He tried screaming for help, but had no air for I was squeezing all the life out of him.
“There’s no use struggling, Deagol. You will die and I will have my precioussss!” I hissed out the last word in his ear.
“Such bravery and strength Smeagol had to kill the nasty hobbites!” I complimented myself.
“No, no. Should not have killed him, should have stolen preciousss instead and run away.” I argued.
The story telling continued. He struggled and struggled, until I saw his face turn blue. His body relaxed, and I pushed into his neck harder just to be sure he was dead. His blank eyes stared up at me.
And I laughed.
I laughed at his stupidity. It was his fault he was dead, not mine. He wouldn’t give me my precioussss. My fingers flew to his breast pocket and I grabbed the ring. I cradled it and joyfully danced with it. I had my precious, and it had me.
I turned to the dead body of my best friend. “Stupid Deagol.” I mocked him. “Stupid, stupid Deagol.” I continued to dance with the ring. I stroked it and petted it. I cooed to it and sang to it. I made promises to love it and cherish it always.
Then my eyes once again fell on Deagol’s body. And the reality of what I just did finally set in on me.
“Deagol? What have I done?” I asked out loud, kneeling by my friend.
“Deserved it, he did. Stupid, fat hobbites!” I argued.
“No, no!” I shook my head.
“Now you have the precious and he doesn’t.” I laughed. Then I began to weep. It was a terrible noise to listen to, consisting of whistling and gurgling noises. My best friend was dead at my hand. The only person who would accept me in the Stoor society. Stupid Stoors! They should worship me, now I had the precious!
I was jolted from my storytelling again.
“Smeagol get along much better without stupid hobbites.” I hugged myself. “Smeagol doesn’t need anybody but the precious.”
“I miss my families.” My lower lip started to quiver.
“Your families betrayed you! Your grandmother banished you from the Gladden Fields and everything you loved.” A smirk grew across my face. “Everything but the precious. Nobody knew about the precious.”
“Nobody did, and nobody will. Only I can have my precious.” I reassured myself.
“You murdered your best friend for it.” I mocked myself.
“No. He was stupid enough to have me do it.” I tried to make myself feel better.
“You murdered him, then you stole the precious from him!” I relentlessly hissed into my own ear.
“I hate you.” I hissed back, trying to block out the noise by putting my hands over my ears.
“Thief. Murderer.” I whispered slowly.
Tears started rolling down my cheeks. I glanced at my precious, but it held no comfort for me.
I then realized my precious didn’t rely on me, but I relied on it tremendously. It was my life, but it could live without me.
And that hurt. I began to sing a song I had thought up for myself in my darkest moments.
Where once was light
I stared sadly at my precious, knowing I could never mean as much to it as it does to me. Emptiness filled my heart as the golden shining ring seemed to mock me with it’s perfect features. I had no perfect features. The ring and I were exactly opposite. I once thought that I was the Master of the Ring. But slowly I realized it was the master over me.
I shoved those depressing thoughts out of my mind as I tried to remember what I was doing before I was forced to tell that story again to myself.
Oh yes. Breakfast.
Now darkness falls
Where once was love
Love is no more.
Don’t say goodbye
Don’t say I didn’t try
These tears we cry
Are falling rain
For all the lies you told us
The hurt, the blame
And we will weep to be so alone
We are lost we can never go home
So in the end I’ll be, what I will be
These tears you cry
Have come too late
Take back the lies
The hurt, the blame
And you will weep
To face the end alone
You are lost, you can never go home.