He could swim about for the rest of time, dragging too large of feet through the overly still water. Or he could climb aboard the small raft that had anchored to his island and watch the silent lake from his hiding place. They no longer came near him, no longer went anywhere at all near the water and the creature's hoarded treasure.

There was but one treasure, dull and cold in the dark of the cave, but it's power over him was as strong as fire. He held onto the tiny, golden Ring, running his fingers over it to smear about the grime. Occasionally he would wash it in his lake and bring a slight shine back to the Ring only for it to immediately dirty again. He didn't care. It could stay in a permanent state of filth, but that wouldn't decrease its influence it had over him.

His eyes were for only the Ring.

His life was nothing more than the lake, and the island, and the tiny boat. And at the very middle, the Ring.

The Ring and only the Ring.

Tap tap tap.

His ears perked, and he lied silently in his boat, listening to the sounds of nearing footsteps. Rushed. Panicked. Not the goblins of which he was so accustomed; they avoided his home at all costs lest they find themselves in his strangle hold. No, this was something much different. Something frightening in the way that it could be so out of place.

Gripping the ring in his fingers, he emitted a low growl.

They wants it. But we must hides it.

My Precious.