"The Grass Was Greener"
A/N: My first true drabble. Written during a class at college. I'm so bad.
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It was not often, but there were times when his conscience, long-submerged by fire, resurfaced to try and remind him of what he had been before. When it tried to reason with him and tell him that this was not what a creature like himself was meant to be. He had been gentle once, loving and loved. Now he was ruler, feared and worshipped through the lands. He had all within his grasp, he was the god of the world. He had killed and overthrown, and bestowed mercy on a few, and his hands had shaped a civilization, and he had felt no guilt.
There were times, however, when he could remember the Shire and Bag End, and his life before that which was most Precious to him, and he could recall a time when his hands had not been made to break down, but to help and to heal—hands now course and missing a finger.
The saying "The grass is always greener on the other side" never rang more true than in those moments.
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A/N: I'll leave you to decide who I wrote about and how this all came to pass.