Pastime
It had simply been an innocent pastime – that is, until the fateful moment where the fish pulled Deagol out of the boat and into the river. The two friends had gone fishing nearly every day for years, whether it was ice-fishing in the winter or using a boat in the warmer months. But after the Precious had come into his possession, fishing had become necessary in order to find food. Hidden in the dark caves beneath the mountains, goblin-meat and raw fish were his regular diet. But no longer did fishing hold any pleasure for him. Memories of Deagol, killed at his hands, came back to haunt him hundreds of years later, even when he could no longer remember the name of his victim.
A/N: I'm not sure, was this too abrupt?