12. The Taming of Smeagol
Lost. No way out, no way ahead. The barren rock offers no shelter, no comfort, on a journey to the place where no one wants to go. A bog nearby, the stench is clear. Time is our greatest foe; time gives him strength.
Haunting black beats ride again. Pale eyes follows, though dare not stray too near.
Down a cliff, but pale eyes follow. The creature falls, Sting is unsheathed to threaten him. But mercy was in his hand, and mercy prevails now. “Do you know the way to Mordor?” The creature nods, The Precious keeps him to his word.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.