We wants to throttle him, yessss we do! Nasssty Bagginssss, taking the preciousssss. We hates them all the way through our bones!
I feel something. Something inside me that has been long forgotten.
Why do we guide them? Let uss run away, preciousss! But first we takes it! Yessss! It's ourss! Always oursss!
It was lonesome in that cave. I forgot. Forgot everything. To hear those clear voices recalls a memory of happier times, before it came to me.
The preciouss is oursss! It protects usss. Helps us catch nice fissssssh. Keeps us out of sight!
When it came it controlled me. Corrupted me. The Smeagol I know is buried.
But when Baggins has it we're lossst! Lossssst and we needs it!
Though the desire for it drives me, I feel free. A piece of my will is conscious.
Nasssssty hobbitsess! We see them gloating! See them touching our precious and keeping it for theirselfs!
I see them suffering. I see the master being corrupted. I see the glint in his eyes that will soon be identical to mine.
When we looks at them we are sick! Nassty, nasssty hobbits! Especially Sam! We hates them! Curse them! We hates them!
When I look at them my spirit stirs. Not with hate, for I do not hate them. Nor, though, with love. Not for them, at least. They love each other. Just as I once loved someone. It stirs with regret.
Written December 15, 2002