Traveling
It was a long journey, but I was pulled, drawn on by the precious. My heart, my soul. I kept my eyes fixed, now, not on the ground but on the travelers I followed.
I think the Wizard suspected I was there. I think the Elf did, too. No matter, I could outsmart both of them. Yes, we could outsmart them all.
I could have taken the precious while they all slept but for the fattest Hobbit. He was watchful. Always looking about with bright suspicious eyes, but he never saw us. Never got a whiff or a glance of us, did he precious? Not a glance.
They went up a mountain, and the snow stung my flesh. I wasn't used to such snow, and I had long since forgotten about clothes. What use for them had I? All my modesty was useless, I could move anywhere unseen. Anywhere.
Even into the Mines of Moria. I snuck in behind them, after the Watcher had pulled the entrance down. They could not get out, but I could get in. Oh yes, precious. I could get in. Squirming through the fallen rocks was no problem, a neat trick, easy does it.
Look, Mom, no hands! A cry from my childhood I well remember, but I am bigger than that now, better than them all.
Inside the Mines it was dark, and I liked it. Not much to eat, but we don't need much, we just need the precious. We almost got it, in the dark, but the Wizard stayed guard. He heard me muttering to myself, calling the precious.
You know.
It was a mistake and he paid for it. It was I who awoke the Balrog. What, don't you believe me? Of course you do. Of course.
So the Wizard was dragged into depthless shadow and I was glad. Glad, for the precious sang to me just a little closer, a lick and a tearing of flesh away. Eight more, eight more of them left.
I followed them out of the Mines, at a distance. They came to the Golden Wood, and I came too. She didn't notice me, the Witch Queen. Not a hair of me she saw, for all her power. I am better than her. Better than them all, precious.
They lingered in that wood for a time and then set out, and I came too, floating on a dead log down the river behind them. Stayed well out of sight, watching, I did. I was ready to take the precious, but I did not. Why? I do not know. I was waiting for something.
My chance at changing history. You are here, with me.
You know.
Disclaimer: Nothing of Tolkien's creation belongs to me.
