The tunnel ahead was new to Smeagol. Curious. He'd explored all the tunnels in this goblin-infested cave system beneath the Misty Mountains, and new tunnels didn't simply appear. Whatecer. He forged ahead. Maybe the treacherous thief who'd stolen the Precious had escaped this way.
The tunnel was long and winding, tunneling seemingly for miles without branching. The tunnel rose and rose and rose until Smeagol was sure he must be higher than the mountain itself, yet still he trekked in search of the asshole that absconded with his Precious. He would eat the hobbit's eyeballs first, then the soft flesh of his elbows. Smeagol began compiling a list of edible body parts in his head with a vengeful glee, ranking them by Most Heinous to Consume Whilst Smacking One's Lips Loudly and Describing Them to the Victim.
Bellybutton.
Achilles Tendon.
A Kidney.
The Butt.
Smeagol had a lot of free time over the last few centuries.
The shitty cave stone gradually gave way to worked stone, then smooth marble, then a linoleum tiled floor and wallpapered walls with a gruesome cannibalism motif above a tasteful woodpanel wainscotting. Candles set in sconces lit the passageway, sparse at first and gradually increasing in frequency until an unbroken line of wax-fueled flames emerged from wicks set densely together in a kilometers-long chunk of candle that followed the curves of the tunnel - no, hallway now. Curiouser.
The hallway ended in a big fucking room with no windows. Clusters of finely made furniture dotted the floorscape like gossiping women. Smeagol had never encountered such opulence, neither living in the damp hellhole goblin cave nor even before, when he lived in a shed out back his uncle's house until forced to flee because of what was obviously a misunderstanding when Smeagol's cousin refused to give Smeagol the Precious and Smeagol accidentally murdered him.
Smeagol stood around like a chump for a few minutes before the door (there hadn't been a door there just before, had there?) opened and some kind of fucked-up goblin walked in. The goblin was wearing a sack with head- and arm-holes and a single sock on his left foot. "Hello?" asked the goblin. "Is anybody in here? Dobby thought he heard something. He was asking the Room of Requirement for someone to help since Master has freed him but being free got boring after five minutes and Harry Potter left for summer vacay."