Disclaimer: I do not own Gollum (dangit!) or the Ring. I do, however, own Deltar, from whose POV this story is told.
Author's Notes: No, this is not a humor fic. Far from it, in fact. It's rather dark, written somewhat in the style of Edgar Allen Poe. Please enjoy.
Life In Darkness
Vengeance.
That is all that matters to me now. After the burning of my village by a Goblin patrol, all I can think of is destroying their foul species forever. My family is dead. My wife, my baby daughter, my aging parents, and my younger brother. All slain by the cruelty of those wretched beasts.
I am the sole survivor.
We were a peaceful Man colony, no threat to them at all. And yet out of nowhere, their wrath fell upon us with terrible force. The flames... I can still see the fires of my home dancing before my eyes... and the screams refuse to leave my mind.
There must be judgement and punishment.
And I alone can wield it.
So I run, through the darkness of the forest, not knowing where I am, and hardly caring. I follow their trail, thick and impossible to miss, as if they purposely destroyed any living thing ten feet within their path. Evil filth. I curse and spit into the night, my words echoing around me, harsh and unpleasant on my own ears.
Is this me I am hearing?
Once I was a kind man. Not extremely handsome, but not homely either. I was always told that my finest feature was my eyes... I don't know. I've rarely seen my own face reflected back at me, but everyone always said that I had an honest look about me, with dark eyes and dark hair that reaches to my shoulders.
I never cared for looks or vanity.
Perhaps if I had, I could have been finer to look at. Instead, I am covered with a thick layer of dust and grime, only increased by the raging fires I battled mere hours ago.
Such random and meaningless thoughts are those of a man under duress. Perhaps if my mind were clearer, I wouldn't cut myself on the brambles so much. Who knows? I may be remembering my birth and youth if this mental rambling continues.
But that is not to be, and my trail of thought is lost to me as a new and awesome sight fills my eyes. The Misty Mountains yawn up before me, and I am unable to see their craggy peaks through lack of lighting. It is only a quarter-moon, after all. So all I can see is a dark, foreboding mass, obscuring my vision for miles. I am at their very foot.
Undaunted and fueled by adrenaline, I begin to climb.
I may have been climbing for hours, or maybe it is only minutes. Physical strain has the most peculiar effect on one's perception on time; the harder the trial, the longer it seems to take. I know it took 'weeks' for the screams of my loved one's to fade as the flames consumed them for eternity.
I find myself in a cave, and immediately set about prowling the walls. I must surely have the appearance of a hunted animal, my fingernails scrabbling uselessly at the stony surface. It is all in vain. The Goblins have hidden their door well.
For three days I stay there, and at last I am rewarded. The stone opens and a small squad of Goblins march out. Unsheathing my father's mighty sword, I hew off all their heads in three strong blows. Then I disappear into the depths of the cavernous opening, bloodlust pulsing in my brains and my heart beating ever faster.
But I am soon lost. A mortal man is not meant to navigate such dark abysses; it is impossible to see my way. I cannot even see my hand before my eyes any more, the blackness is that smothering. I feel that I am unable to breathe, and my stomach cries out for nourishment and sustenance. There is none.
I shall die.
And just as soon as this morose and morbid thought snakes its' way through my being, I am saved. Fate and Luck have collided in the heavens, presenting me with Life even as I walked toward Death itself.
I find myself in a wide, yawning cavern. A strange, bluish glow permeates the air, enabling me to see faintly. I suffer briefly from that odd effect born of hasty entrance from darkness into light. Quickly it passes, as quickly as it came, and I am left staring about in awe. An enormous underground lake stretches before me, and a large rock outcropping blossoms upon its' surface, like a bridge that went halfway across and suddenly lost its' desire to finish and dropped into nothingness.
Driven by a maddening, wrenching thirst, I race to the water's edge and drink ravenously, feeling the cool liquid soothe the fire that burned in my aching throat.
Glancing up from my drink, I suddenly became aware of two large, pale points of lights, rather likes eyes, staring at me.
I am not alone.
Staggering to my feet, I reach for my sword. It is not there. Perhaps I lost it in my starved delirium back in the passages. Perhaps it lies nearby. Either way, I am unarmed at the moment. So I instinctively ball my hands into fists, ready to face whatever lurks out there.
The creature comes forward, and I can see it looks rather like a smallish man, wearing a tattered pair of pants that have seen horrible years of misuse. Those eyes... enormous and deep, they stare at me with a terrible sense of intelligence that I've never seen before.
"Hello."
I try to communicate with it, seeing its' shred of humanity as an automatic indication of the ability to speak my language. Instead, it continues to gaze at me steadily, unblinking, unwavering.
"Who are you?"
Again I try to evoke a response. I don't get the reaction wanted; rather, the opposite. It starts towards me, hissing under its' breath. I shall certainly be eaten, and all my plans for revenge for naught.
Lurching into motion, terrified by those eyes, I stumble backwards, towards the wall of the cave behind me. I hit its' rocky face; there is no more retreat. And still the thing advances, eyes still boring into my soul. Full of fear, I fall on my knees to plea for mercy.
Am I mad? This thing is half the size of I. And yet; it evokes such terror in my heart. It is not the long grasping hands that hang at its' side. Nor is it the haggard appearance it possess on the whole. It is those eyes... inexorably, the creature moves towards me.
"Please..." I begin.
But my begging is abruptly cut short when a swift hand shoots forwards, aimed at my head. I brace against a killing blow. Instead, a spindly hand begins to caress the dark hair that I have previously mentioned.
The creature whimpers in a friendly way.
After a moment more of softly stroking my locks, it withdraws and sit before me.
"Lost, he is, lost in the dark, eh?"
I stare at him, my eyes becoming almost as wide as his.
"Y-yes." I admit quietly. "I am lost."
"Lost." he repeats, his odd hissing voice full of a wistful tone. "Lost, he is... lost like us... Lost forever..."
Disturbed by this unexpected form of confession, I shiver. This creature sounds almost human, although he most clearly is not. I grope the recesses of my mind, looking for any species or people I can connect he that stands before with. Nothing.
And suddenly, he is gone.
"Hello?" I call uncertainly.
There is no answer.
But I know he is there.
Despairing and hungry, I see no reason to leave this oasis of light so soon. Feeling along the wall, I eventually reach a small alcove and curl myself within, by back pressed against its' face so that I may not be attacked from the rear.
When I wake, I know not whether it is night or day. Buried beneath he mountain, I cannot even begin to fathom what goes on outside of my prison. I rise to leave, to search for the Goblins, but then I see something.
A fish lies before me.
How odd, I begin to think. And then I see that it is marked, clawed along its' side to be killed. It did not get here by mistake.
The creature left it for me.
Inwardly, I stage a debate on whether it is safe to eat this gift. At last, raging hunger wins over a rational mind, and I eat it hungrily. Fish has never tasted so good. In fact, I do believe feast worthy of a king could not compare to the simple meal I partake of now. Finishing my food, I journey again to the water's edge and drink.
The liquid tastes remarkably fresh and clear, a phenomena perhaps brought on by the fact that no living creature, save the fish and little thing who harvests them, have ever blundered into this place and muddied its' water. Amazing.
Eventually I notice the creature watching me from the depths. This time, I am not so afraid. He does not wish to kill me; else why would he leave sustenance at my feet when he could just as easily have watched me starve? So I watch him, remaining in a crouch so as not to startle him back to the darkness.
"Hello." I call to him. "Thank you for the fish."
I hear a hiss in response, but it is something.
"My name is Deltar, and I am quite lost. Do you know a way out?"
He repeats my name in that same melancholy voice, and once again my body shudders. Moving slowly towards me, he cocks his head and studies my haggard appearance.
"Lost?" he asks for not the first time.
"Yes." I answer patiently. "Lost."
"Lonely?" he persists.
This question is so foreign that it takes a moment to register in my thoughts. Am I lonely? I miss my village, my family... I miss the companionship of others... yes. I am lonely.
"Yes." I nod. "Yes, I am lonely. My family is dead."
"Dead..." he moans, sounding like some haunted banshee.
He sits and watches me for a while, and I watch him.
"Do you have a name?" I venture timidly.
"Once we did, eh, once we had a name... no name now, precious... no name for us... gollum."
That last sound which punctuated his sentence is so bizarre it makes my mouth pop open. I have never heard such a noise before. It sounds almost like a gurgling groan... I don't know how else to describe it.
Once again he echoes my name, and then suddenly he says something quite different.
"Deagol."
"No," I correct. "My name is Deltar."
"Deagol," he says again. "Looks the same, eh, the same... same eyes..."
Unconsciously, I touch a hand to my face. My eyes? He recognizes my eyes? This strange revelation turns the underground world I am in upside down. He continues to look at me, a sad sort of smile tugging up the corners of his gaunt face.
And just as soon as he appeared, he turns and vanishes back into the darkness.
My vengeance is forgotten. How could I continue on in search of blood when this haunting apparition seems to possess me? He recognizes me, he calls me by a foreign name, and he appears like a wraith or a ghost. And still those deep eyes make me linger, and he brings me food that I do not wither in this darkness.
I am bound to this cavern.
For days I stay, and for days my little creature brings me food. I name him Blink, and this he accepts without question.
There is a tragic way about him, the way he clings to every word I say and listens as though I am actually speaking words of importance, instead of the vague rambling I impart to him. He remains silent, most of the time, and doesn't come near enough for me to touch him. My only remembrance of his touch is from that first day when he stroked my head.
I have just awoken when for the first time I hear him calling me.
"Deagol... Deltar... Deagol..." the names mix easily on his tongue.
Immediately I come, and see that he has fish waiting. One for me, and one for himself. He wishes to dine with me. This is something new, as I only have previously seen him while I drink, from where he watches on his rocky throne.
We eat in silence, and I watch as his long clever fingers easily discover the juiciest and tenderest bits of meat with the ease of long practice. He consumes the whole thing, leaving a perfect skeleton which he tosses haphazardly back into the water. Then he sits and gazes at me as I finish my meal.
"Lonely, we were..." he says abruptly.
Choking down my mouthful, I stare at him in surprise. Will today's wonders never cease? Now he speaks to me.
"No more, no more, precious." he nods his head in an odd bobbing movement. "Deltar Deagol is our friend."
That cinches it. Suddenly I become aware of what has happened. Blink has become my friend, my companion, though he speaks little and hides often. I am attached to him, and he apparently is also attached to me.
"You are my friend, Blink." I say.
And I extend my hand towards him. After an agonizingly hesitant moment, he reaches out his own hand and rests it on mine. I tip up my hand so our palms are pressed together. With a smile, I gently bend my fingers over his shorter ones.
"Deltar has big hands." he observes.
"Blink has small hands." I argue playfully.
He sticks out his tongue crossly, and for a moment I fear he is really angry. But instead, he smirks at me and boasts,
"We're faster than Deltar."
The rest of the day is spent racing around the cavern. Blink is amazingly swift, and actually leaps up and clings to the walls before launching himself off again. I am no match for him in agility, and he knew all along. At last, exhausted by our racing, we drink from the long deep pool.
I am entranced by him, he holds me in the darkness even as my memories of home fade away. I can no longer recall my wife's face, or the sound of my daughter laughing. It is snatched away from me, along with the thirst for vengeance.
The cavern becomes the world, and its' sole inhabitants Blink and I.
Although this world is not without its' dangers, as I discover quite unexpectedly. I am lounging on the rocky throne, which Blink now shares with me, when I hear a sound. It is not the sound of a fish jumping. Nor is it the splash of Blink going fishing. No, it is a sound I have not heard in what feels like years.
A Goblin.
He looms in the entrance to the cavern, and eventually wanders in, cursing about being lost. Perhaps even Goblins loose themselves in these hideous mazes of underground passages. I reach for my sword, and then remember that I no longer have it. This beast will surely kill us.
And then before I can react, the monster is falling to the ground, dead. Blink sits astride its' twisted head, the Goblin's neck freshly broken by his slender and powerful hands.
My little Blink can kill.
This chills me to the bone, and I gape in horror. But Blink smiles at me, and my heart relaxes. Blink would never harm me. I am too dear to him, that much is plain. But the fear does not fully leave me... and the remains of the huge Goblin that we feast on only remind me of his terrible capabilities.
On a whim, I decide to try and find out how strong Blink really is. I challenge him to arm wrestle; he does not know what that is. After explaining it a few times, he understands. He props his elbow on the rock and waits. I grip his hand firmly, count to three, and begin.
I am thrown off balance by the force Blink exerts so suddenly. Staggering backwards, I land in the water and goggle at him in surprise. He helps me up, apologizing in that queer jabber of his; the strength in those thin arms is undeniable.
But still Blink acts the same as normal, and we lounge on the throne rock together. I gradually become aware that he is fidgeting unnaturally, whining and scratching at a small pouch that hangs at his side. His fingers dip into the pouch, and I briefly see a flash of gold.
"What have you got there, Blink?" I ask jovially.
His eyes darken and he hisses at me in a deadly serious tone.
"It's mine, Deagol. Mine. Ours. It belongs to us."
His 'us', of course, referred to himself. But the singular 'mine' at the beginning was spoken with such familiar clarity, and the usage of what I thought my pet name Deagol seemed only full of a possessed hate.
For not the first time, I was engulfed with fear and longed to leave the cavern. But Blink still held me in that invisible grasp, and now also my curiosity was peaked by the gold thing that Blink apparently kept in his little pouch. What could it be?
And so time passes. All I can think of is that gold... is it treasure? A key to a vault? Blink is very secretive; it could be anything. And any asking about evokes a hostile response, so I avoid it in conversation. But still... I could be driven to madness...
Instead, sickness.
I wake up with a burning fever. One touch to my forehead reveals that is soaked with sweat. I try to rise, but am suddenly too weak to even stand. Blink finds me and brings me fish, but it is useless. I am dying; this cold and damp environment was never meant to be inhabited by the likes of me.
As I fade in and out of consciousness, I suddenly become aware of Blink talking to himself. He's sitting right to next to me, so I listen through the haze of illness.
"Dying... dying..." he moans, sounding in pain. "Deagol dying... again! Again, precious, Deagol dies and nothing we can do... nothing... yes, something... Not that! It would help him... we can't! No! Deagol cannot die, precious, we must help... we can't, we must, we can't, we must..." He writhes in agony next to me, and I can hear his tortured whimpers.
"We must."
And suddenly, a band of gold appears in my vision, more amazing and awesome than anything I have ever see before. I am dazzled; I see that it is a ring, a ring of some sort, on my finger... power courses through me and the illness is crushed, vanishing under my newfound strength. I can be anything I want to be... anything at all... the world is at my fingertips...
And then it is gone.
Quick as lightning, I see Blink shoving something back into his little pouch. His eyes are full of remorse and sorrow, and his shoulders are bowed under some invisible burden. Ordinarily, I would have asked what was wrong. But not now.
"Blink, what was that? A ring? Was that a ring on my finger?"
"It was nothing." he hisses, and ducks his head away.
"But it was something!" I persist. "Something amazing and wonderful, I must see it again!"
"No!" he snaps.
Blinded by my desire for that object, I prattle on, unaware of his growing anger.
"Please, Blink, just once! I want to feel that power again, Blink, where is it?"
And suddenly he is holding me by the throat, his eyes burning into mine with a horrible fury that frightens me nearly to death.
"The Precious has saved you." he growls. "You will seek It no more."
I nod, agreeing only because of the imminent danger. But once he sulks back to his little island, which I spotted just off the rocky throne, my head swims.
What have I just felt?
For weeks, months, or maybe only days, the ring torments me. Its' power... I can still feel that rush of might, and I yearn to feel it again. Yearning turns to desire. Desire turns to lust. Lust turns to need. I need to feel that ring on my finger once more. If I don't, I shall surely die.
I can't remember who I am anymore... did I have a family once? No, only that ring. Someone once loved me... yes, the Ring loves me. It needs me too. Do I have a name? Yes, yes, Deagol is my name. And there can only be Deagol and the Ring.
I am going mad.
So mad... the pain, the want, the desire... it's consuming me...
Precious!
I creep, stealthy as the night, as silent as an owl's wing, to Blink's lair. But no... he is not my friendly little Blink... he is a creature, the Gollum, who lurks and hides the Ring from me... I must have it back... Forgive me, little Blink...
He is out. Fishing. The pouch beckons me... I tear it to pieces in my savagery, and I withdraw from its' fragments the Ring. My Precious. Over and over I merely stroke It, content to be reunited with It at last. My love... oh, It's power is ebbing into me even now...
Too late I hear the Gollum's arrival. Too late I realize he has knocked the Ring from my hand. I howl in agony, crawling towards It, reaching for It, but no avail. Gollum slams into my side, and we go tumbling over the little island to the murky water... once it was clear, but now it seems dark... so dark and foreboding...
Gollum is screaming at me... his eyes glaze with rage and I feel those monstrously strong hands clamp around my neck... and now I am underwater, those long, swift, terrible fingers clamped around my throat... Blackness is closing in... I am so very cold...
And then all is dark.
Deagol is no more.
~ The End