55. Waiting
He called to it. His voice a whisper in the winds and a heartbeat in the sun. All was going as planned and it would soon be among the Elves, united with a weaker it could easily corrupt and make its own.
It would soon be home in the fires of its birth.
Then that illusionist appeared and mucked it all up. Convinced the Short Fool to leave it there, alone and on the floor. They went outside and then he came back.
It regarded him from it's position on the floor. They "circled" like predators. When the old man leaned down to pick it up, it screamed.
"DON'T TOUCH ME, YOU DECREPIT FOOL!"
It projected its wrath just before the brush of skin on it's cold, yellow surface.
The One Ring would not be gotten rid of so easily by a wizard of Gray.
It would wait...
And bide its time.
fin