Sméagol

A/N: Sorry about the wait! I've gotten so into starting new fics that I'm completely beginning to get ahead of myself…I haven't forgotten this one! So, I thought I'd write up another chapter for it. : smile :

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The darkness arrives sooner than I expect that night. It billows around my presence as a numb warning, commanding me to progress with my well-being. My Master called again to me as I pondered, opening His cruel heart to me with His poisonous words that provide me with so much comfort.

He misses me, He thunders. He wants me to return to the side that will offer us all of the power we could desire. I want it so badly, I know it is what beholds me in the distant future, and I want to make it to the Shadow Mountain. But this I cannot do by myself…I cannot do it alone.

I need the help of Frodo, he is the one who must take me there. But it is not for the same purpose, I fear. He may scorn at my appearance, and dart away from my assistance, and now…still lost in his friend's arms as they sleep away the night, he may wonder if my plan was all a blunder.

No, my Frodo…my love. You have only caused the worst of harm to come. You will understand. Alone, I will find you once, and then you will have to taste my true deception, with no Sam in sight. Then you will learn…it is so simple to comply.

I sneer at him, lying motionless and still. I will not attempt this yet, for I will let him wither…as the last dying leaf before the cold, harsh Winter approaches. I sense within his heart his fear, the knowledge that he holds of my return to him. I will let him keep his thoughts to himself, for the time being.

Instead, I shut to my eyes…and hum my haunting call once more. Though Frodo listens in his wandering dreams, it is not for him this time. I sense Sméagol's whereabouts nearing me and I know that he will join me in his company.

"Sméagol, dearest…Precious is calling…" I whisper, motioning with the tone of my own voice for his presence, and on my ears a returning hiss abides. I settle upon the stubborn rock and smile to myself in satisfaction, my hair blowing calmly in the dying winds and breezes.

My loyal companion. He still listens to me after so long a time, though I notice that in time he admits jealousy in his heart…he feels I focus my attention on the poor, defenceless one, Frodo. That I have no need for him – he is wrong. I do need him now, more than ever before.

I close my eyes and hum further, sensing Frodo stir slightly in sleep. After time, I smile coldly as the shadow of my true friend rises above the stone. I turn my gaze to him and beckon him closer. He still hears me, and he still chooses to listen.

"Preciousss…" I hear his voice through the fog.

"Yes, Sméagol…I am here again…" I sigh, summoning him closer with my words, and my heart lightens at his devotion. I watch as he scrambles from the protruding rock on which he squats, and leaps down to land beside me, staring up as if expecting a reward.

I smile at him, kindly. "You have not forgotten me…"

"No, no!" Sméagol insists, his eyes fixated and filled with a desiring hunger, his voice pitiful, but yet it brings a comfort as I see him this way. I have done this…I have broken him down. He is a meek servant in my eyes, for my lust he will do anything.

"Sméagol never forgets," he continues. "He listens."

I offer him a comforting smile. "My dearest friend, you have always been good to me…" I murmur. "You have always been worthy…." With this, I edge closer to him, a distinct aroma giving off…the smell of raw fish. I remember his presence furthermore now. I fix my gaze on him.

"Worthy…" I say again. "Do you know of this word…?"

He nods in delight, so determined for a question to answer. "Yes, yes…Sméagol has heard the word," he exclaims in glee. "He knows it, yes, precious…he does."

"But have you followed it…?" I slip out, my words slick, hearing silence.

His breath tightens as he stares back at me, the eagerness to follow my commands in his expression. He bends to the floor, lost in my shadow. I sneer down at him though he does not see it, and I lift my head to the ash sky above. "Do you feel as if you have always been worthy…?" I ask gently.

At this, a feeble grunt of a moan leaves Sméagol's lips. Stepping behind, he rocks back and forth on his rear, bringing his knees up to hug them. He wails under his breath.

"Do you?" I question again, a little sharper than before.

Sméagol's voice howls in his throat. "No…no, precious, no…" A sob rips through him as he continues to rock back and forth, back and forth another time. He hides his face from me, too ashamed to reveal his guilt. He stifles another cry and buries his head in his arms. "Sméagol has not always been good."

My attention darts as sharp as an arrow at his position, noticing the feeble attempts to hide himself away. "Why is this…?" I wonder, my voice softening as I sense a rise of sorrow forming within his chest. "How do you feel this way, my friend? What is it you have done…?"

Sméagol lifts his head an inch from his arms, as if considering this fact. His eyes study the ground, study myself. They seem lost…afraid.

They remind me of Frodo.

A silence follows; all the while I keep my contact on this creature, watching his eyes pinching together in thought, listening to the furious battles of conflict raging inside his head. He is struggling, still. This surprises me, dear Sméagol, I thought you had let it go by now.

"Ach – sss!" he cowers in his own clutches, protecting his face with his palms now, not wanting to show his miserable face to anything connected with the outside world. "No!" he croaks. "Don't ask it of us!"

"I am asking you…" I say, my voice never the softer. "Will you not tell me?"

"No! No! No!" Sméagol sobs, his face masked with his hands. "No! No!"

"But I want to know…" I carry on, "I want to know, dearest…"

He weeps again, a fleeting thought I feel in his head as to turn away from me, but he stops as if changing his mind. He still shields his eyes. "No…" he groans, his voice quivering. "Sméagol does not need to tell, precious knows…knows!"

"I do…? How so…?"

"Because, precious saw…knows of it, Sméagol will not say it!" He sounds final and resolute on his actions, and the truth knows this. I also hold it in myself of what he has done; he does well not to explain. In the future, this will only bring him to his own torture, not to share it with others.

I suppress a grin. "You remember…" I whisper. "You remember well…"

Now he raises his head to stare back, his eyes clogged and his expression mournful. I have seen this face long enough and too much of time to detail; I see this face as if it were of no importance. "Sméagol never forgets," he says again. "He listens."

"Good…" I purr, stroking the creature's head. "Good Sméagol…"

My touch seems to bring a new life into him, as I fall into contact with his own flesh, he flinches slightly, but soon regains his position and takes it as a reward. He relaxes easily now, and uncovers his face away from his arms completely. He seems to be responding well due to my ignorance lately, but I have not discarded him.

"Good Sméagol…" I say again, of which he repeats, thankful.

I smile down at him again, ready to see the loyalty that lies within. "My friend…" I begin, at which he straightens up in response. "I have a favour to ask of you…an important favour…"

"What favour – favour!" he says in slight joy, hopping about a little, overwhelmed that I have decided to hand this to him, to pay him some heed. "It wants us! What's It wanting us to do?" His face seems to light up at his words.

I study his willing look, his eager glint. I know that he would do anything if I wanted him to, just for the chance that I would look upon him again…the same way I did all those years ago, when it was just the two of us…and no misfortune to stand in our way. I know this will work if I plan it accordingly.

"You see yonder…?" I question, attracting his attention to the two hobbits, lying still and quiet in each other's arms, not far from our spot. They have not moved since last I laid look upon them, but they seem ever so peaceful yet.

Sméagol follows my stare, and I sense his doubt. Numbness grows in his eyes, but yet he nods, not pulling his gaze away from the still, resting figures. He does not find his voice, but I sense his breath take a furious hitch as he watches.

"I am sure that you know them by now…" I continue on, my voice darkening. "What they plan to do…do you not? Do you know…?"

"Yes, precious…Sméagol knows," says he, turning away.

I went on, my sight still absorbed on the hobbit Frodo, his face angelic in sleep. "They plan to deprive us…they are on their way of doing so, you understand? Not far now, they are not…and yet you do nothing! You are letting them go!"

"No!" Sméagol backfires, his face horrified. "No!"

"But you are! You could succeed now if you had the chance! But you dare not! You care not! Look at them! They are sleeping, they have no advantage! Do it!"

"No!" Sméagol cries again, burying himself in a tight ball and curling into misery once again. "Sméagol is not ready! Not ready, precious!"

A furious rage takes me, and I glare down at him with eyes ablaze and my heart alight. Every curse in the tongue of Black Speech flies into my mind, and right then and there I feel as if I could strike them all, but only one word…that still holds a power into existence.

"Coward!" I screech, watching both Sméagol and Frodo stir violently at the deafening sound, which echoes mightily. Silence follows, disturbed by harsh breathing. A pitiful wail interrupts me.

"It is hurting us! Hurting us with words!" he sobs. Then, as for usual as I see, a strange transformation covers him, taking him into a darker shadow. I have seen this witnessing for many years now, and yet it never surprises me. I smile, for now I am not alone for this arrangement.

"It is hurting you, yes!" Gollum attacks back. "For reason!"

I smile towards him, and watch Sméagol with cold eyes. He whimpers.

"You're betraying us!" Gollum scowls, of which I counter back. This has happened many times before, of that we have always succeeded. Sméagol is outnumbered against the two of us, we can always talk him into doing the right thing.

"No!" The creature pleaded. "He is trying – Sméagol is trying!"

"No, not hard enough!"

"Coward!" I scold, enjoying this inner battle.

Sméagol sobs again, covering his eyes. "Leave us alone!" he cries. "Please!"

"You must do this…" I persist, edging him on with my comforting tone now, all of the anger lost in my words, "You must try harder…it is a simple task for you, and you know this…do you not?"

"Yes…" Sméagol trails, his throat blotchy and his hands shaking. "But – but we promised Master that we wouldn't - "

At this, both Gollum and I let out furious howls. "Forget promises!"

"This is not about them…" I whisper soothingly, my note dropping to a minimum. "Everything evolves around you now…Sméagol, everything…I am wanting to help you…I am trying to bring Master around for you…I am trying so hard…while you do nothing…"

"Sméagol is sorry!" the voice interrupts, wailing again. "He is sorry!"

"Then show it, precious - gollum! gollum!" Gollum backfires, sneering in anger but with a sense of triumph lurking within his features. "Show it to us!"

"Will you prove it, Sméagol…?" I say softly, stroking the trembling head another time, hearing his throat rack with despair. "Will you prove this to us…will you make us proud of what you will do…? We will be grateful…we will…"

Gollum's eyes light up, a fierce blaze settled inside. "We will, yesss…"

Sméagol looks onwards towards the hobbits, still relaxed and slumbering in sleep. Again, I hold on how beautiful they look. They do not know of this plan, we only need Sméagol's accompany for it to work, for it to shine. The creature's eyes well up at the sight of Frodo, simply lying there. He hangs his head low…turns back to us…

And nods. Gollum snickers.

"Good…" I say again, patting the creature's head. "Good Sméagol…"

To be continued

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A/N: So, what do you think? I don't really think I'm that brilliant at writing Sméagol/Gollum, but this was in my head and I had to work out the flaws, so sorry if it's up so late.