Note: I don't own any of the stuff in this story, the only thing I own is the story itself. I made up the Ring of Weakness. This story takes place in a universe parallel to the lord of the ring universe, so don't expect to see any nine fingered Frodos running around...
GOLLUM'S TALE: THE REAL LORD OF THE RING
In the beginning, eighteen rings were formed, each holding vast amounts of power. Five rings were given to the mountain-dwelling dwarf lords, nine were given to the nine kings of the ambitious men, and three were given to the immortal elves. But little did these ring-bearers know that another ring was formed, one ring of power, to rule all other rings.
This information has all been recorded within the Lith a'Man, 'The Ever-living Journal', but one story hasn't been remembered, and few live in this world that know of it.
It is the tale of Gollum. It is no mystery that he was the holder of the lost ring of power for more than a century, until an unwitting half-ling found it. But he played a greater part in the pond of life, so to speak. He wasn't just a leaf floating on the surface. He was a rock, dropped into the crystal clear waters, and rippling the surface beyond comprehension.
Gollum, an ugly creature who was twisted by the corrupted power of the one ring, managed to gain access to a blacksmith's furnace and tools. And it was here that he created a weapon the likes of which should never have to be mentioned again. The ring of weakness.
*
The burning fires of the blacksmith's furnace melted the elven metal until it glowed a fiery red. A small, twisted figure hunched over the kettle of liquid metal and cackled with glee. A sick sound uttered through the disgusting creature's throat, interrupting its joy.
"Yesss, my preciousss," the monster muttered to himself, "Sssoon you will be whole again, and we can be together again, sss'my preciousss."
The creature took out a small, metal box, with a hinge on one side, and two holes in the top. A tool many artisans use to make rings. He poured the burning liquid into one of the top holes, and giggled in glee as the box turned hot in his hands, and the dangerous liquid splashed out of the two holes onto his fingers. He was oblivious to the pain as his skin melted from his arms. His eyes glowed with an eerie light and saliva dripped from his gaping mouth.
He poured the entire contents of the kettle into the box, not knowing how or when to stop. When the pot was empty of its magical contents, the malicious little imp skipped in one place, muttering to himself about 'his precious' and making 'gollum' noises in his throat.
Flies buzzed around the dead blacksmith's body in the adjacent room, his neck broken, and his face mangled horribly by small, razor-like claws and teeth. What was left of his face was frozen in an undying mask of fear and horror.
After three hours of skipping, hopping, and muttering, the small box was sufficiently cool, and the twisted creature opened it, revealing its contents. A small, silver ring lay within it; steam rising from it's still hot curves. Small, clawed fingers pried the precious thing from its container and held it up to the light.
"My preciousss," the grotesque creature gurgled, "you are ssso beautiful, and I found you, and you are mine'sss."
As the ring became cooler, shining silver lettering began to appear on the outside of it. Only the creature could understand what it said, however, since it was written in the writing he had developed in the century he had been hiding within the Misty Mountain.
'One ring for Gollum's sake,
One precious above them,
One ring to take the world, and in a nightmare, corrupt them.'
Note: I really don't give a damn what you people say, but review this story anyway (he he, I rhymed). I really enjoyed writing it, and I'm am going to post the next chapter up soon. STAY TUNED!!!
GOLLUM'S TALE: THE REAL LORD OF THE RING
In the beginning, eighteen rings were formed, each holding vast amounts of power. Five rings were given to the mountain-dwelling dwarf lords, nine were given to the nine kings of the ambitious men, and three were given to the immortal elves. But little did these ring-bearers know that another ring was formed, one ring of power, to rule all other rings.
This information has all been recorded within the Lith a'Man, 'The Ever-living Journal', but one story hasn't been remembered, and few live in this world that know of it.
It is the tale of Gollum. It is no mystery that he was the holder of the lost ring of power for more than a century, until an unwitting half-ling found it. But he played a greater part in the pond of life, so to speak. He wasn't just a leaf floating on the surface. He was a rock, dropped into the crystal clear waters, and rippling the surface beyond comprehension.
Gollum, an ugly creature who was twisted by the corrupted power of the one ring, managed to gain access to a blacksmith's furnace and tools. And it was here that he created a weapon the likes of which should never have to be mentioned again. The ring of weakness.
*
The burning fires of the blacksmith's furnace melted the elven metal until it glowed a fiery red. A small, twisted figure hunched over the kettle of liquid metal and cackled with glee. A sick sound uttered through the disgusting creature's throat, interrupting its joy.
"Yesss, my preciousss," the monster muttered to himself, "Sssoon you will be whole again, and we can be together again, sss'my preciousss."
The creature took out a small, metal box, with a hinge on one side, and two holes in the top. A tool many artisans use to make rings. He poured the burning liquid into one of the top holes, and giggled in glee as the box turned hot in his hands, and the dangerous liquid splashed out of the two holes onto his fingers. He was oblivious to the pain as his skin melted from his arms. His eyes glowed with an eerie light and saliva dripped from his gaping mouth.
He poured the entire contents of the kettle into the box, not knowing how or when to stop. When the pot was empty of its magical contents, the malicious little imp skipped in one place, muttering to himself about 'his precious' and making 'gollum' noises in his throat.
Flies buzzed around the dead blacksmith's body in the adjacent room, his neck broken, and his face mangled horribly by small, razor-like claws and teeth. What was left of his face was frozen in an undying mask of fear and horror.
After three hours of skipping, hopping, and muttering, the small box was sufficiently cool, and the twisted creature opened it, revealing its contents. A small, silver ring lay within it; steam rising from it's still hot curves. Small, clawed fingers pried the precious thing from its container and held it up to the light.
"My preciousss," the grotesque creature gurgled, "you are ssso beautiful, and I found you, and you are mine'sss."
As the ring became cooler, shining silver lettering began to appear on the outside of it. Only the creature could understand what it said, however, since it was written in the writing he had developed in the century he had been hiding within the Misty Mountain.
'One ring for Gollum's sake,
One precious above them,
One ring to take the world, and in a nightmare, corrupt them.'
Note: I really don't give a damn what you people say, but review this story anyway (he he, I rhymed). I really enjoyed writing it, and I'm am going to post the next chapter up soon. STAY TUNED!!!