The Fine Line
I'm probably the last person you would expect to hear this from, the last any would consider still having a heart, even if it's buried so deep. You see, I'm now Gollum, a twisted creature, a mutated being, warped and dark by my own doing.
Many now know my past, but none know my present, for I have lost the means to communicate it to them. I wasn't always like this, that much I know. I also know that the reason I can't remember is because of a little band of gold. Call it a ring if you will, I call it a shackle. It was the thing that took away my freedom, and my self.
If I could, I would tell you how this came to be and maybe put myself at ease, but I can't. I can only speak in my mind what it is that has happened. I stare into the darkness, knowing it is near and being taken to its destruction and while part of me hates that fact, another is rejoicing.
I hate it and love it, just like myself. I've heard people say that hate is such a strong word and shouldn't be used, but it's the only one that fits. That piece of gold created the black area inside my heart and those of everyone else. Only in my case, I allowed it to cause the shadow to consume me. I let it near and followed it.
I accepted the evil freely and paid for it. If I could go back, I don't think my choice would be different and yet I'm too far gone, even speaking in my own mind, to know what I truly want and what the ring makes me want. I killed one close to me over it and used it to do dark things. I didn't think anything of it, but slowly my body took the form of my soul and I hid in the shadows.
Yet, I still love it. It gave me long life and let me hide when I wanted to. I knew it used me, or rather I know now, but then I thought I controlled it. Imagine, if you would, a little thing like myself in control of that power. It made me feel strong and powerful, unstoppable even. All the things I wanted and feared.
So many ask why? Why do I hunt it? Why do I love it if I hate it so? The answer: It's a part of me. The only part left from a past that I have chosen to forget, or was made too, don't know now. All I know is that little ring no longer symbolizes power to me, it symbolizes all I use to be and who I am today. It has recorded my history and has used me.
It's my life and no matter how horrible things are, I can't live without it and I'm not ready to die.
Hate. That is what it all comes down too. But many do not understand the depth of this hate, for to do that would be to acknowledge the darkness that lives inside each one of them, even elves. I know the hate, I understand the shadow, for I see it every time I look into my reflection. I see it in every shadow and behind every eye. Even of the little one that carries it now.
I see the burden within him and something within me, something still good, screams to take it, not for its power, but to take the burden and the price from him. He should not have to do this. He left his friends so that they didn't have to feel it and watch him slowly die. I bow my head, not able to watch long and knowing I don't have to.
I can sense the ring and know where it is at all times. I hate it, I despise it, but can't escape it. I can't help thinking it was my fault that all this happened. If I had only been stronger, if only I could have resisted, but then I think of the power I held over the races. I controlled their fate and they couldn't stop me.
So yes, I still love it. But I also hate myself for that love. I hate the weakness it shows and the captivity it has placed me under. I can't help but think back to the times under the trees when the elves gave me some freedom. I saw the shadow in their eyes when they looked at me, but it didn't stop them from having compassion and trying to help me.
That was why, when I was captured there and the elves were attacked, I ran from the orcs and didn't make it easy. The elves will never know that more were coming and that I ran too them to save the beautiful race, nor do I want them to. It was weak, it was wrong and yet at the same time, so wonderfully right.
I feel the hobbit move, but make no move of my own to follow, not right now, this needs to be said, even if it is just to me. I caused this pain. I caused the human to die, for friends to be split apart and for the slow death of the ring bearer. But I also caused something good. I caused the races to be joined, for an elf and a dwarf to become friends, for the King of Men to take up his throne and unite Middle Earth.
I did all of that, for if a hobbit had never gotten the ring, a fellowship would have never been formed.
It's a win-lose situation and I have done both, but I have lived by it. They say there is a fine line between love and hate. I walk right down it because I have learned there is no black and white, only shades of gray. How surprised they would all be if they could see into my mind, see the pain I have and the reasons behind it.
If I could I would say I'm sorry.
If I could I would make things right.
If I could.
I smell fire in the distance, and the last part in me that retains some light knows what I must do, and I'm not afraid to do it. I close my eyes and head to Mt. Doom. It was time to end this, because the hobbit could not.
It was time to rest, because I am weary and ready. I don't want to die and I don't want to live. I never want to have existed and for that to happen, I must destroy my past as well as my future. The wizard was right, the ring must be destroyed, but even in this act, I'm only serving my own purposes yet again.
I hate and love it, just as I do my own self.
I'm probably the last person you would expect to hear this from, the last any would consider still having a heart, even if it's buried so deep. You see, I'm now Gollum, a twisted creature, a mutated being, warped and dark by my own doing.
Many now know my past, but none know my present, for I have lost the means to communicate it to them. I wasn't always like this, that much I know. I also know that the reason I can't remember is because of a little band of gold. Call it a ring if you will, I call it a shackle. It was the thing that took away my freedom, and my self.
If I could, I would tell you how this came to be and maybe put myself at ease, but I can't. I can only speak in my mind what it is that has happened. I stare into the darkness, knowing it is near and being taken to its destruction and while part of me hates that fact, another is rejoicing.
I hate it and love it, just like myself. I've heard people say that hate is such a strong word and shouldn't be used, but it's the only one that fits. That piece of gold created the black area inside my heart and those of everyone else. Only in my case, I allowed it to cause the shadow to consume me. I let it near and followed it.
I accepted the evil freely and paid for it. If I could go back, I don't think my choice would be different and yet I'm too far gone, even speaking in my own mind, to know what I truly want and what the ring makes me want. I killed one close to me over it and used it to do dark things. I didn't think anything of it, but slowly my body took the form of my soul and I hid in the shadows.
Yet, I still love it. It gave me long life and let me hide when I wanted to. I knew it used me, or rather I know now, but then I thought I controlled it. Imagine, if you would, a little thing like myself in control of that power. It made me feel strong and powerful, unstoppable even. All the things I wanted and feared.
So many ask why? Why do I hunt it? Why do I love it if I hate it so? The answer: It's a part of me. The only part left from a past that I have chosen to forget, or was made too, don't know now. All I know is that little ring no longer symbolizes power to me, it symbolizes all I use to be and who I am today. It has recorded my history and has used me.
It's my life and no matter how horrible things are, I can't live without it and I'm not ready to die.
Hate. That is what it all comes down too. But many do not understand the depth of this hate, for to do that would be to acknowledge the darkness that lives inside each one of them, even elves. I know the hate, I understand the shadow, for I see it every time I look into my reflection. I see it in every shadow and behind every eye. Even of the little one that carries it now.
I see the burden within him and something within me, something still good, screams to take it, not for its power, but to take the burden and the price from him. He should not have to do this. He left his friends so that they didn't have to feel it and watch him slowly die. I bow my head, not able to watch long and knowing I don't have to.
I can sense the ring and know where it is at all times. I hate it, I despise it, but can't escape it. I can't help thinking it was my fault that all this happened. If I had only been stronger, if only I could have resisted, but then I think of the power I held over the races. I controlled their fate and they couldn't stop me.
So yes, I still love it. But I also hate myself for that love. I hate the weakness it shows and the captivity it has placed me under. I can't help but think back to the times under the trees when the elves gave me some freedom. I saw the shadow in their eyes when they looked at me, but it didn't stop them from having compassion and trying to help me.
That was why, when I was captured there and the elves were attacked, I ran from the orcs and didn't make it easy. The elves will never know that more were coming and that I ran too them to save the beautiful race, nor do I want them to. It was weak, it was wrong and yet at the same time, so wonderfully right.
I feel the hobbit move, but make no move of my own to follow, not right now, this needs to be said, even if it is just to me. I caused this pain. I caused the human to die, for friends to be split apart and for the slow death of the ring bearer. But I also caused something good. I caused the races to be joined, for an elf and a dwarf to become friends, for the King of Men to take up his throne and unite Middle Earth.
I did all of that, for if a hobbit had never gotten the ring, a fellowship would have never been formed.
It's a win-lose situation and I have done both, but I have lived by it. They say there is a fine line between love and hate. I walk right down it because I have learned there is no black and white, only shades of gray. How surprised they would all be if they could see into my mind, see the pain I have and the reasons behind it.
If I could I would say I'm sorry.
If I could I would make things right.
If I could.
I smell fire in the distance, and the last part in me that retains some light knows what I must do, and I'm not afraid to do it. I close my eyes and head to Mt. Doom. It was time to end this, because the hobbit could not.
It was time to rest, because I am weary and ready. I don't want to die and I don't want to live. I never want to have existed and for that to happen, I must destroy my past as well as my future. The wizard was right, the ring must be destroyed, but even in this act, I'm only serving my own purposes yet again.
I hate and love it, just as I do my own self.