Disclaimer: I do not own Deagol, Smeagol, or the movies "What Dreamsd May Come" or "Return of the King."

What Dreams May Come

"That worm won't hook itself, you know."

He laughed, but remained hunched over, watching it squirm in his hand. Then slowly, he held his hook up beside it, studying both.

I paid it no mind. Smeagol was always off in his own world, collecting rocks and fish bones on the shore; watching insects burrowing into trees; admiring objects that most others, myself included, looked on as worthless trinkets.

It was just one of the many differences that made him. . .well, Smeagol.

* * *

There was always something I found unnerving about boats. They seemed so clumsy, always rocking back and forth with each movement, threatening to tip over. I didn't like the feeling. Unfortunately, I would have to endure it if I ever wanted to catch anything. The fish seemed to figure out where the clearing on the bank was, and were avoiding it.

Smeagol finally cast his now-baited line into the water and leaned forward, waiting.

I watched my hook with baited breath. Five months. Five months of coming home empty-handed, save for those few occasions in the boat, and even then the results were poor. There was a period in time where Smeagol and I had even gone so far as too fish by the river with the other hobbits, which was no thrill for either of us.

So we'd gone down to the docks, found us a boat, and by some miracle managed to drag it over to the lake all by ourselves.

Everything was silent now. No birds in the trees, no frogs on the banks; I couldn't even hear my own breathing. And everything seemed frozen. Every ripple, every tree branch stood perfectly still, like a painting—

There was a sharp twitch in my hands as my fishing pole jerked forward. I jumped slightly, eyes wide.

A short pause, then another twitch, and I nearly dropped my pole. Something was pulling on my line.

". . .Smeagol! I've got one!" I exclaimed, finally spotting the dark shape under the water. "I've got a fish, Smeagol!"

He spun around, his blue eyes lit with amazement, and gazed at the end of my line as it spun and shook violently beneath the surface.

"Go on. Go on, pull it up!" he said with anticipation.

My hands trembled as I began to lift my catch from the water. I couldn't believe it. A fish! A FISH! I finally caught one! And I was in a BOAT!

After what felt like an eternity of pulling, I realized that I was making no progress. Every move I made to pull the fish in was responded to with a tug back from the other end of my pole. I grappled for a foothold, trying to lean back as far as I could without losing my grip. This fish was a fighter—

It all happened in a second.

First, there was a sudden, bone-rattling yank, and I lost my footing. Then, I was pulled forward, too surprised to attempt to stop myself. The boat tilted sharply, and I was dragged out.

. . .Into the water.

SPLASH!

For a moment, I did nothing. I simply held onto my pole as the giant catfish proceeded to drag me along. He was huge; nearly half as big as me. Far too great a catch to pass up. I had to get to shore somehow, maybe tie the line around a tree, or possibly try to grab the fish and carry him out...

AIR!

The thought came to my mind instantly, pushing aside my plans. My lungs were screaming!

AIR! AIR!

How far was I from the surface? Could I keep a hold on my line while swimming up?

AIR!

There was a moment of hesitation, then reluctantly, I surrendered my grip on the pole and began swimming madly away. Had to get to the surface! Had to hurry! Had to—

Something bright caught my eye, a gleam of light almost. I Stopped swimming and squinted down.

Even in the murky water I could see it. A small, barely noticeable trinket, a ring, shining dully in the afternoon sun. Shining. . .

Allowing curiosity to get the better of me, I reached down, scooping it up, and continued my pursuit to the surface.

As it turned out, I was only a few feet from the bank, and could even spot the clearing from my surfacing point. Quickly, I made my way towards it. Crummy boat. This wouldn't have happened if I hadn't gone out in it. Curse it! Curse it!

I pulled myself out of the water, coughing up the muddy water, and stood up, sighing.

Then I looked down at the object in my hand.

"Deagol!"

Slowly I swirled the mud in my palm, brushing it away, searching for the treasure underneath. Where was it? Where was it under all this mud? Nasty mud. . .

"Deagol!"

I could hear him running up behind me, stopping to catch his breath, looking over my shoulder.

There! I pushed the mud aside. There it was, gleaming brightly in the sun. So bright. . .so beautiful. . .our—

"Give us that, Deagol my love." Smeagol said behind me. His voice was thin, almost purring, like it came from the back of his throat.

I spun around. How dare he! How dare he ask for it? It was ours; we found it!

"Why?" I sneered.

"Because it's my birthday," he purred again, a gleam in his eye, "and I wants it!"

He leaned in closer, gazing at it intently. Suddenly, he lunged for it, trying to snatch it out of my hand. I pulled away. He advanced, scrambling to get the ring as I held it behind my back. I jumped back, and still he pursued me.

I lashed out at him, trying to push him away. No good, no! He was tricksy; tricksy and sly like our fish, oh how we almost caught it! Almost had it grasped in our handses, writhing and thrashing!

Lashing out, wrapping our hands around his neck, squeezing. . .squeezing so hard! Yes, love, you squirms, you does! Squirms like nasty fish. You tried to takes it from us, you did, Precious, but it's ours. It came to us!

Even as he struggled, he met my gaze. I froze for a second, hands still gripping. I stood there, staring into those eyes, such bright eyes. . .and I saw anger.

Anger for me.

It distracted me for a second, made me loosen my grip. He jerked back, freeing himself, and lunged at me one last time.

I tried to fight back. Tried to pry the fingers from my throat, but couldn't. It was all happening so fast. I was fading, legs kicking uselessly on the ground. Arms flailing weakly. The world was spinning; spinning wildly.

And the spinning grew slower...slower...slower...

Stop.