Prompt: Fellow Sufferer
Frodo's unsleeping eyes drifted over the sleeping form of Smeagol. Earlier, Sam had begged him once again to be rid of the creature. Sam did not trust him, he never had. But Frodo could not help but be moved by pity. Surely there was some good left in Smeagol. He and the wretched thing were both enslaved by the object that hung from his neck. One of them was completely taken by it, and the other was failing. Every day the temptation of the Ring was growing stronger, harder to resist. Even now, one of his fingers was stroking it. He jerked it away with some effort. Frodo hoped there was still hope for Gollum... and for him. They were fellow sufferers, bound together by the Ring.