Sneakyone.gollums-precious.1.var

“SneakyOne. Gollum’s precious. One point… var.”

Gollum.

Frodo’s blood turned to ice water. He didn’t move. A pale, starved shape uncurled from a hollow in the bank. Two wide, sickly-pale eyes floated in the dark like drowned moons. SneakyOne.Gollums-precious.1.var

Frodo swallowed. “Go away. Leave us alone.”

“Oh, but you will be, hobbit. You will be. The SneakyOne always finds the Precious. And the Precious always eats the SneakyOne from the inside. We knows.” He tapped his chest. “We’s full of holes.” “SneakyOne

The Shire was dark, not with the wholesome black of a summer night, but with the oily, creeping gloom that had bled out of Mordor. Frodo felt the weight of the Ring like a cold, contracting fist around his soul. Sam was asleep, his breathing a soft, trustworthy rhythm against a mossy root.

“It burns us, doesn’t it, precious?” Gollum hissed, staring not at Frodo’s face, but at his clenched fist. “Yes. It whispers. Always whispering.” Frodo’s blood turned to ice water

SneakyOne.

But Gollum only grinned—a row of yellow, broken teeth. “No. No, we’s not leaving. We’s been following. We saw you put it on at the Ferry. We saw the wraiths stop.” He rocked back and forth, wrapping his thin arms around his knees. “Master is very clever. But Gollum is cleverer. Gollum is the SneakyOne .”

Behind them, two pale eyes opened again.