3017, Dead Marshes.
Aragorn sat on a flat-stone next to a marsh pond. He was smoking his pipe, watching as a gangly, miserable creature tried to get loose from some ropes. When it couldn't, it would fall on its back and release a blood curdling scream. Its paddle-shaped feet fell up and down like a child having a tantrum. And though it was annoying and painful to the ears, Aragorn couldn't help but pity it. Its form was twisted, its back, front, legs and arms loitered wih scars from past tortures, hair gone, teeth gone, its only love being himself and the Ring. Why was he still alive? Why one more day looking like this?
Aragorn shook away the thoughts and patted the ash out of his pipe. The rope created a red ring around the creature's neck. Strider yanked on it and Gollum shirked on his feet, grobbling.
"It burns, the yellow face, it burns us!"
"Come, Smeagol." Aragorn led Gollum, rope tied to his hand, who was five feet behind on his back, whining about the sun.
"Smeagol, come, or I will make you." Aragorn waited for a response, but Gollum continued. He winded the rope around his palm twice, in doing so dragged Gollum one foot closer. Gollum stood, crouched, again.
"We cannot walk under yellow face, it hurts us, it scorches's!"
Aragorn walked to him.
"I have no choice then, Smeagol. You have brought this upon yourself." he grasped Gollum's wrist, who tried to pull back.
"No!" Gollum yelled. Aragorn, lifting his arm, threw Gollum over his left shoulder, his legs facing Aragorn's front, and his head to his back. The creature squirmed, bit and kicked but Aragorn wouldn't let go.
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Gollum fell limp. The Evil Man was already moving away, and ignoring his cries! Gollum had to think of something. He sneered. His thoughts were bad enough, but this one was pure evil. His long, bony fingers grabbed Aragorn's bicep, then Gollum reered his head forward then back with a mouth full of flesh. Aragorn arm stiffened. Blood drickled down his forearm. Gollum took the chance to wrap the rope around the Evil Man's neck. Gollum jerked and both fell on their backs. The pain that seethed through his tortured body didn't reign him; he was going to kill the Evil Man no matter what.
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Aragorn swiveled from side to side, but the creature had him tightly in his grip. He had to think, or this thing was going to kill him! He tried to 'let go' of the rope, but to no avail. He tried to match his strength with Gollums, but his strength was waining. At last he thought of his knife. He walked his arm to his hip; a gouge of skin and flesh was gone from his bicep. He wielded the dagger, and cut the rope, releasing himself from the vice of the gangly thing.
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Gollum held on to two seperate pieces of rope. Shivering and grumbling, he tried to gain sympathy by groveling.
"We did not mean's it!" Aragorn gained his composure and glared. Knife in hand.
"I've had enough of you, creature. I am taking you to Mirkwood, to King Thranduil's halls."
Gollum groveled heavier.
"The Elves's? Not cruel people's! They hurt's us, they will beat us with cruel steel like Orcs's!"
"They are good people, Smeagol, and there you will be safe."
Aragorn sheathed his knife and gathered his sack and pipe that fell out during the 'predicamate'. During that time, Gollum was talking to himself.
"I cannot go to Elves's, precious."
'You won't go to nasty Elves's my love, kill him now and you can go home."
"Home is nice, precious."
'Then kill him! Murder him!"
Gollum glanced over to him. Aragorn was dressing his wound.
"I can't, precious-"
"Do it!"
Aragorn looked over.
"Smeagol."
Gollum looked back down at the soggy ground. Aragorn swore he could hear faint mumbling.
'You fool, you will always be stepped on like worms's unless you kills him, now!"
"I can't, he will beat me!"
'Do it!'
"No!"
Gollum collapsed. Aragorn tapered the last piece of cloth to his wound than ran over to Gollum. He'd passed out. Aragorn smiled.
"Thank you, little one. I thought you would give me a harder time."
Aragorn made sure before he carried him that his arms and legs were secured and his mouth muzzled. Then he tossed him on his right shoulder.
------- Mirkwood -------
Aragorn came to Thranduil's halls. Gollum was walking; he hadn't struggled in days.
Two Elves came before him, bowing.
"Here is the Smeagol that I wrote of in my letter."
"I see. Thank you, Estel."
Aragorn unbound Gollums arms, and began to leave when one of the Elves stopped him.
"Wait, Estel. Did he give you any troubles?"
"Why do you ask?"
"Your arm is soaked, a wound."
Gollum looked at him, sorrowfully. Aragorn looked at him with a small smirk.
"No. Not at all."
Just something I cooked up in 2 hours. Couldn't leave it alone. Please review.