Disclaimer: I don't own the story or any of the characters. Please don't sue me.
Summary: What if Smeagol hadn't died when he fell into Mt. Doom? Much angst.
Chapter 1: "Where once was love, love is no more..."
Deagol looked out across the calm, majestic water before him. It was early morning and the sun had not yet lit the sky, but a hush was upon everything and light, the light that comes just before dawn, illuminated the small river. How beautiful.
SPLASH!!!
"Deagol, you rascal, you were supposed to meet me here an hour ago!"
"An hour ago! Do you have any idea – that's it, you asked for it! WATER FIGHT!"
Wildly giggling, Smeagol complied as the two began to splash immense amounts of water, drenching both themselves and their respective opponents.
"Stop. Stop! I'm drenched and I'm not even dressed for this. That's why I'm late. Smeagol!" He reached out to put one hand atop my curly head, effectively holding me under the water unless I swam away from him.
I sputtered to the surface of the water. "Deagol! That's not fair!"
"Fair enough. You were the one trying to pull me under the water. Besides, what's a little water between friends?" He wrung out his hair and shirt, then patted me on the back, receiving an odd 'splat!' sound, since I was still drenched, too. He tried, unsuccessfully, to contain his laughter. I tried to glare, but ended up laughing, too.
"Here. I realized you must not have had first breakfast this morning, it's so early. I thought you'd like to see the river before dawn, but I know how you are with food..." He walked over to the shore and came back with a large picnic basket. "Here."
We ate, both stealing food from the other when we thought he wasn't looking, both feigning indignance when we found the food gone, until we'd both eaten our fill and dawn had lit the sky in colors of orange, golden yellow and red.
"Deagol?"
"Hmm?"
"Do you remember when you taught me to swim?"
He gave a short laugh, then tried to mask it with a cough, but didn't succeed. I blushed a bit at the memory, too.
"You were floundering around like some kind of a cat, like you couldn't stand the water and you were afraid to swim. They couldn't get you to even go into the water until I agreed to come with you."
"I was young, Deagol. I was scared."
"I know." He grinned and ruffled my hair, grin becoming larger as I tried to slap his hands away and only ended up slapping myself in the face.
He stopped and I sighed, leaning back against a tree.
"Moping?" Could that even be considered a question? He always just seemed to know.
"Yes, no, oh, I don't know..."
He waited.
"I guess it's just... I'm gonna be 28 tomorrow, Deagol..." he nodded, understanding. "and it's just... I... No one will notice." I tried to hide the emptiness that I knew shone in my eyes. Who was I to expect my family to care? They had bigger things to worry about. Of course, I'd buy gifts for them, but they'd always seem so surprised... I knew they'd forgotten again. And it wouldn't really matter so much if it wasn't... Every. Single. Year.
"You honestly think that no one will notice?" Deagol asked, looking hurt.
"No one but you." I sighed, accepting the hug and feeling like a nit-wit, but not wanting to make it seem like he didn't matter to me, too. It did mean a lot to me that he always remembered. It was just... I held back the tears I didn't even know had built up.
Deagol pulled me closer to him, until I was leaning against him, cradled in his arms like some new-born infant. I tried to get up, embarrassed. He followed me.
"Smeagol?" I turned to look at him, or, more accurately, the ground in front of him.
"Look at me." I looked up, tears still held in my eyes, which I'd been trying to hide. I should have known he'd see through that facade.
He put one hand on my shoulder. I looked up at him miserably.
"I'll tell all the Shire."
We'd spent the day together and after nightfall, when it was obvious no one was coming this year either, I could tell that Deagol was trying to find a way to distract me. I was up for a distraction, honestly, so I told him I'd come when he told me he was going somewhere.
"Deagol! Where are we going?"
"You'll see."
"Oh, come on..."
"You'll see."
Glaring, I complied, having no other options, really. If he wouldn't tell me, I'd show him I could be patient. For a little while, anyway...
"Deagol?"
"What?!?!"
"Nevermind."
"Ah. Here we are."
"The bakery stand?"
"Sure. What, you expected me to get you food the normal way? Honestly, Smeagol. You mean so much to me that I'd just have to put my life in danger to get you a worthy gift."
"Deagol, I'm really not sure if —"
"Come on...!" Deagol shouted in a stage whisper.
"Deagol, you're going to get us both into —"
"Who cares? If we get in trouble, we'll get out again. How hard can it be?"
I roll my eyes and give up. There is never any chance of winning an argument with Deagol when he gets into one of these mischievous moods.
"But Deagol, why today?"
"You'll see." He replied again, this time with a touch of annoyance to his voice. I let the matter drop. Fine, be that way.
We snuck over to the stand. Honestly, petty theft we'd done often enough, but tonight I was frightened. The owner of the stand, the son of the old baker, was quite large and very observant. He had a reputation for not being too lenient on thieves, whether they were only stealing bread or not. A part of me wondered if that was why Deagol had chosen this place, to get my mind off of current matters...
Oh! I'd run into the bread stand while I was lost in my thoughts. But this was next to where Deagol was hiding, shoving rolls into his pockets and everyone turned to look. The baker was angry. From this close range, I could see his face turning as red as a beet.
"Deagol! Run!"
This did not help matters. The owner of the bread stand leapt after us as we ran, but Deagol was too slow, hampered by the amounts of bread he had in his pockets and he couldn't keep up. "Leave it! Leave it!" I called.
"No!"
He turned and, to my utter amazement, walked back to the bakery stand. I saw him talk to the baker for a few seconds and the older lad's face softened somewhat and he laughed. A crowd seemed to gather. Not wanting to leave him, I ran back, too. What in Middle-Earth is he thinking?! The crowd split up just as I got there and I found myself next to Deagol.
"Deagol! What happened?!"
"Come on, Smea. I'll tell you on the way back."
"What happened?" I asked again, as we got further away from the market.
"Well, I told him it was your 28th birthday and that I had stolen these rolls for you, risked my own life to give them to you in love, because you're my cousin and you'd had a hard day and I wanted to distract you and... I payed for the rolls. But I did try to give a nice speech about you."
"You what?! You told them?!"
"Yes. Hey, I told you I'd tell the whole Shire. What made you think I didn't mean it? And I knew we'd get caught. I had the money. I just wanted to see the look on your face." He imitated an expression of panic, then started chuckling.
"Hey!" I charged into him, knocking us both over, onto the grass. "Take that back!"
"No."
"Take it back!"
"No."
"Take –"
"Smeagol." He wrapped one arm around me. It took me a second, but I returned the hug.
"Thank you, Deag."
"No, thank you. Oh. And I almost forgot! Come with me!"
"Deagol, you have got to be kidding me –"
"Come on!"
"Deagol!"
"What?"
"Where are we going?"
"You'll –"
"Deagol!"
"Oh, fine. We're just going to stop by my place for a bit. I've got something there that I forgot to bring."
"What?"
A slow smile spread across his face. "You'll see."
We both laughed this time, heading off towards Deag's home. When we reached it, he turned to look at me. "Wait here. I'll be back soon." He hurried indoors.
A few minutes later, he returned with his arms full. A very long, battered-looking package was in his hands. "Here."
We sat on the ground to open it and I looked at him quizzically.
"Go ahead. Open it."
A rustle of paper, then, "Fishing rods!"
"Happy Birthday, Smeagol."
And a happy birthday it was, too, I think as I awaken fully. The worst day of my life. The day all of this began. My birthday. I wish I was never born.
I must wake the others, soon. The larger one, Sam, distrusts me. He's probably right to do so. Frodo takes such care of him and the same is true of Sam's care for him. When I cared for someone.... but that was long ago. I'm not sure if Frodo can ever trust me. Even if he does, I'll never trust myself. I won't let him care. I won't let him become like D—
Tears suddenly come, unbidden, to my eyes. Even after all these years, losing Deagol – not the Ring, not the Eye or the tower or my banishment – was the worst day of my life. I raise my eyes to see the stars. I won't let Him take the hobbits to Her. Tears fall for my murdered friend. The hobbits sleep soundly. I won't let him take them, too. I won't be twice, a murderer.