Post by Admin on Jan 2, 2021 23:52:00 GMT
Author: Darkover
Summary: A wait so long as to be almost unimaginable at last comes to an end.
Rating: T, just to be sure
Disclaimer: The characters of “The Lord of the Rings” were created by J.R.R. Tolkien, not by me, and I am not pretending otherwise. I write this story only as a tribute to his genius. No violation of copyright is intended. Please do not sue me.
We know what it is to wait, My Master and I.
Mortal Men know nothing, least of all of waiting; their lives are as ephemeral as they are useless. Elves scarce understand it better, and even Iawain Ben-Adar does not know what it is to wait, not as Master and I do. What Master knows, I know, for in My beginning, we were One. His power flowed through Me, and I was his will. It was what I was made for, I knew nothing else. There was no “Me,” then, there was only my Master, and I was a conduit for Him.
Then we were sundered. As before there had been only Master, then there was at first only His pain, rage, and dread fear. I was taken from His hand by the prince-warrior, he who *dared* to harm My master, although at first I knew that not. At first, I knew only that I was no longer One with my Master, but I was still the One, and I knew I must get back to Him somehow, even as the Man took me from my Master’s hand. When first he touched Me I burned him, for I still communicated my Master’s rage and pain. We were not yet completely parted, my Master and I, for I had never been meant to be apart from Him, nor had I known such a thing to be possible. But then there was new pain, My pain, when I was bereft, and from then on, I existed only to return to my Master.
Isildur was the fool who thought he could claim me as weregild for his father and brother. He placed Me on a chain around his neck, as if I, the greatest of my Master’s works and the only One meant never to be parted from Him, were some sort of petty bauble! When the orcs attacked, Isildur tried to use Me to escape, but I slipped from his hand and left him to his death. I hoped one of the orcs would find Me, and thus I would work my way back to Master, but the stupid creatures did not find Me before I sank to the bed of the Anduin.
The water carried Me away, but not to my Master. Something was wrong; Master’s hurt was great, he could not have used Me even had I found my way back to Him, not then. That was the beginning of My waiting, though for some time I understood it not. So I lay at the bottom of the Anduin, waiting for My Master to recover.
When after much time, I sensed Master stirring again, I knew the time had come to seek Him out once more. When two fools arrived to do a day of fishing, I set my own bait for them. I compelled a very large fish to bite the line of one of the fools—Deagol, he was called—and pull this Deagol into the water. As planned, this Deagol saw Me, and at once picked Me up. When this Deagol was pulled out of the water by his cousin Smeagol, I saw at once from the way this Smeagol gazed at Me that he would be a much better vehicle to return Me to Master. There was such lust in the eyes of Smeagol that it was no difficulty at all to influence him to murder Deagol. Murder of course put Smeagol even more firmly in my power, especially as the fool had murdered his cousin to get Me—which made this Smeagol a kin slayer as well.
Now that I was in the hands of one so willing to embrace evil, I thought it would be no time before I was back on my Master’s hand. But having murdered his own kinsman to get me, this worthless fool used Me only for theft, minor blackmail, and other petty evils. But I made sure he was quickly expelled from his home and family, and after that, thought it was but a matter of time before my Master and I would be One again.
Little did I know there was more waiting ahead. As if 2,500 years at the bottom of a river were not enough, this fool—“Smeagol” no longer, he was “Gollum” now, thanks to Me, for my only pleasure in all this time was to torment him and break his mind, even as he fawned over Me, calling Me his “Precious”—this fool withdrew into a cave, and for another five hundred years, I remained apart from Master, with no way to return to Him.
At last, at *last* I sensed another presence in the cave, another presence that was not a goblin on the brink of death; for entertaining though it was to urge Gollum to kill and eat goblins, none of that brought Me any closer to Master. But with this other presence, the time had come to leave Gollum. Perhaps the sniveling fool would commit suicide once I was gone.
But this other being who picked Me up was no goblin or other fell creature, nor was he so quickly enraptured with Me as others had been. He thought I was “pretty,” and he gave in to possessiveness quickly enough by hiding Me in his pocket. But other than that, the fool had no idea of My worth, and while he was not impervious to My influence, he was very different from the others. I tried to influence him to kill Gollum—he could have done so easily!—but for some unfathomable reason, he chose not to! Once he was among goblins, I took myself off his finger quickly enough, but still I remained in his keeping. I found myself with this new bearer, Bilbo Baggins.
Although the wait I endured in the company of Bilbo Baggins was much less in terms of time than the years of waiting I endured while at the bottom of the Anduin, or of being fawned over by the creature Gollum, in most respects it was the longest wait of all. I stayed with this Bilbo throughout his remaining “adventure” because, useless though Bilbo was to Me, no one with whom he came into contact would have been any better at getting me back to Master. Dwarves? Elves? The wizard? What use were any of them to Me? Dwarves can be tempted to covetousness and lust, and even murder, but there are hardly a people in Arda who are less likely to slay their kin, and the greediest of their band, Thorin Oakenshield, hated my Master more than he would have lusted for Me. Elves—enough said. And the wizard, although he was far from impervious to the temptations I could and later did offer, would have known Me at once, had I tempted him then. He would have summoned the White Council, and I would have stood no chance of being reunited with Master.
So I settled in to wait. And waited. I gave Bilbo long, unchanging life, stretching his spirit thinner and thinner, hoping to break him. It was useless. Not only was the wizard so often around, negating My influence through his own, but the fool Bilbo had almost no interest in utilizing My power! His idea of making use of Me was to slip me on his finger when he saw annoying relatives approaching, and then to take Me off immediately once they were gone! Eventually, with the help of the wizard, this Bilbo actually gave Me up, something no one had been able to do before! Bilbo’s heir, a younger Baggins called Frodo, sealed me in an envelope and for a very long time, did not even make *that* much use of Me!
Once the wizard knew what I was, however, I thought My waiting was almost over. I threw My influence far and wide, concentrating on locating and reuniting with my Master to a degree I never had, for I sensed that Master was almost ready to use Me once again. And I was on the move again—Frodo Baggins had taken Me with him when he left his home. That time when he was pursued by the Nazgul—I was close, so close to the end of My long wait! But in the end, the Nazgul failed, and I soon found myself surrounded by the cloying goodness of Elves.
But even then, I probed for weaknesses in everyone around him, and no longer just as a way of entertaining Myself in the long, long years of waiting and separation from the One who made Me. I tried at first with the Ranger, the one whose true name is Aragorn, when he confronted the hobbits in the inn at Bree. I tried hard to seduce him, to remind him that with My help, he could take the kingship he so ardently wishes for, marry the she-Elf that he loves, and even destroy my Master (as if that were possible!) He was briefly tempted, but he fell not into the trap of the temptations I put before him. Another did—a warrior called Boromir—but Frodo got away from him, and worse, I had not even the satisfaction of knowing I had destroyed the warrior’s life, for this Boromir redeemed himself. Such failures make the waiting all the more bitter to bear.
Much as I have tempted others along the way, none of those whom Frodo have met while on this quest have brought Me any closer to being reunited with Master. Not even now that we are in Mordor, the country of my Master—so close, and yet so far! I must find Him, so that all of Middle-Earth can be His!
At last, almost too late—here we are on Mt. Doom, and he was almost ready to destroy Me—I have turned all My energies to breaking down Frodo, making him protect Me by letting the fool believe that *he* can possess and control *Me.* Yes, yes, he has put me on his finger, I have attracted the attention of the servants of my Master, the Nazgul will be here soon, my wait will be over at last—!
The mad creature Gollum has attacked! They are fighting! Can I be I underestimated the depth of madness and possessiveness in this contemptible fool? He has bitten Frodo’s finger, and taken Me for himself! It matters not, he cannot keep Me, I will be back with my Master again very soon.
He capers and gibbers, slavering over me once again, for I am “Precious.” To see what I have done to this slobbering fool, his life destroyed, his mind empty of everything except Me, makes the long waiting almost worthwhile.
No, stop you fool, WE’RE FALLING INTO THE FIRE—!
Summary: A wait so long as to be almost unimaginable at last comes to an end.
Rating: T, just to be sure
Disclaimer: The characters of “The Lord of the Rings” were created by J.R.R. Tolkien, not by me, and I am not pretending otherwise. I write this story only as a tribute to his genius. No violation of copyright is intended. Please do not sue me.
We know what it is to wait, My Master and I.
Mortal Men know nothing, least of all of waiting; their lives are as ephemeral as they are useless. Elves scarce understand it better, and even Iawain Ben-Adar does not know what it is to wait, not as Master and I do. What Master knows, I know, for in My beginning, we were One. His power flowed through Me, and I was his will. It was what I was made for, I knew nothing else. There was no “Me,” then, there was only my Master, and I was a conduit for Him.
Then we were sundered. As before there had been only Master, then there was at first only His pain, rage, and dread fear. I was taken from His hand by the prince-warrior, he who *dared* to harm My master, although at first I knew that not. At first, I knew only that I was no longer One with my Master, but I was still the One, and I knew I must get back to Him somehow, even as the Man took me from my Master’s hand. When first he touched Me I burned him, for I still communicated my Master’s rage and pain. We were not yet completely parted, my Master and I, for I had never been meant to be apart from Him, nor had I known such a thing to be possible. But then there was new pain, My pain, when I was bereft, and from then on, I existed only to return to my Master.
Isildur was the fool who thought he could claim me as weregild for his father and brother. He placed Me on a chain around his neck, as if I, the greatest of my Master’s works and the only One meant never to be parted from Him, were some sort of petty bauble! When the orcs attacked, Isildur tried to use Me to escape, but I slipped from his hand and left him to his death. I hoped one of the orcs would find Me, and thus I would work my way back to Master, but the stupid creatures did not find Me before I sank to the bed of the Anduin.
The water carried Me away, but not to my Master. Something was wrong; Master’s hurt was great, he could not have used Me even had I found my way back to Him, not then. That was the beginning of My waiting, though for some time I understood it not. So I lay at the bottom of the Anduin, waiting for My Master to recover.
When after much time, I sensed Master stirring again, I knew the time had come to seek Him out once more. When two fools arrived to do a day of fishing, I set my own bait for them. I compelled a very large fish to bite the line of one of the fools—Deagol, he was called—and pull this Deagol into the water. As planned, this Deagol saw Me, and at once picked Me up. When this Deagol was pulled out of the water by his cousin Smeagol, I saw at once from the way this Smeagol gazed at Me that he would be a much better vehicle to return Me to Master. There was such lust in the eyes of Smeagol that it was no difficulty at all to influence him to murder Deagol. Murder of course put Smeagol even more firmly in my power, especially as the fool had murdered his cousin to get Me—which made this Smeagol a kin slayer as well.
Now that I was in the hands of one so willing to embrace evil, I thought it would be no time before I was back on my Master’s hand. But having murdered his own kinsman to get me, this worthless fool used Me only for theft, minor blackmail, and other petty evils. But I made sure he was quickly expelled from his home and family, and after that, thought it was but a matter of time before my Master and I would be One again.
Little did I know there was more waiting ahead. As if 2,500 years at the bottom of a river were not enough, this fool—“Smeagol” no longer, he was “Gollum” now, thanks to Me, for my only pleasure in all this time was to torment him and break his mind, even as he fawned over Me, calling Me his “Precious”—this fool withdrew into a cave, and for another five hundred years, I remained apart from Master, with no way to return to Him.
At last, at *last* I sensed another presence in the cave, another presence that was not a goblin on the brink of death; for entertaining though it was to urge Gollum to kill and eat goblins, none of that brought Me any closer to Master. But with this other presence, the time had come to leave Gollum. Perhaps the sniveling fool would commit suicide once I was gone.
But this other being who picked Me up was no goblin or other fell creature, nor was he so quickly enraptured with Me as others had been. He thought I was “pretty,” and he gave in to possessiveness quickly enough by hiding Me in his pocket. But other than that, the fool had no idea of My worth, and while he was not impervious to My influence, he was very different from the others. I tried to influence him to kill Gollum—he could have done so easily!—but for some unfathomable reason, he chose not to! Once he was among goblins, I took myself off his finger quickly enough, but still I remained in his keeping. I found myself with this new bearer, Bilbo Baggins.
Although the wait I endured in the company of Bilbo Baggins was much less in terms of time than the years of waiting I endured while at the bottom of the Anduin, or of being fawned over by the creature Gollum, in most respects it was the longest wait of all. I stayed with this Bilbo throughout his remaining “adventure” because, useless though Bilbo was to Me, no one with whom he came into contact would have been any better at getting me back to Master. Dwarves? Elves? The wizard? What use were any of them to Me? Dwarves can be tempted to covetousness and lust, and even murder, but there are hardly a people in Arda who are less likely to slay their kin, and the greediest of their band, Thorin Oakenshield, hated my Master more than he would have lusted for Me. Elves—enough said. And the wizard, although he was far from impervious to the temptations I could and later did offer, would have known Me at once, had I tempted him then. He would have summoned the White Council, and I would have stood no chance of being reunited with Master.
So I settled in to wait. And waited. I gave Bilbo long, unchanging life, stretching his spirit thinner and thinner, hoping to break him. It was useless. Not only was the wizard so often around, negating My influence through his own, but the fool Bilbo had almost no interest in utilizing My power! His idea of making use of Me was to slip me on his finger when he saw annoying relatives approaching, and then to take Me off immediately once they were gone! Eventually, with the help of the wizard, this Bilbo actually gave Me up, something no one had been able to do before! Bilbo’s heir, a younger Baggins called Frodo, sealed me in an envelope and for a very long time, did not even make *that* much use of Me!
Once the wizard knew what I was, however, I thought My waiting was almost over. I threw My influence far and wide, concentrating on locating and reuniting with my Master to a degree I never had, for I sensed that Master was almost ready to use Me once again. And I was on the move again—Frodo Baggins had taken Me with him when he left his home. That time when he was pursued by the Nazgul—I was close, so close to the end of My long wait! But in the end, the Nazgul failed, and I soon found myself surrounded by the cloying goodness of Elves.
But even then, I probed for weaknesses in everyone around him, and no longer just as a way of entertaining Myself in the long, long years of waiting and separation from the One who made Me. I tried at first with the Ranger, the one whose true name is Aragorn, when he confronted the hobbits in the inn at Bree. I tried hard to seduce him, to remind him that with My help, he could take the kingship he so ardently wishes for, marry the she-Elf that he loves, and even destroy my Master (as if that were possible!) He was briefly tempted, but he fell not into the trap of the temptations I put before him. Another did—a warrior called Boromir—but Frodo got away from him, and worse, I had not even the satisfaction of knowing I had destroyed the warrior’s life, for this Boromir redeemed himself. Such failures make the waiting all the more bitter to bear.
Much as I have tempted others along the way, none of those whom Frodo have met while on this quest have brought Me any closer to being reunited with Master. Not even now that we are in Mordor, the country of my Master—so close, and yet so far! I must find Him, so that all of Middle-Earth can be His!
At last, almost too late—here we are on Mt. Doom, and he was almost ready to destroy Me—I have turned all My energies to breaking down Frodo, making him protect Me by letting the fool believe that *he* can possess and control *Me.* Yes, yes, he has put me on his finger, I have attracted the attention of the servants of my Master, the Nazgul will be here soon, my wait will be over at last—!
The mad creature Gollum has attacked! They are fighting! Can I be I underestimated the depth of madness and possessiveness in this contemptible fool? He has bitten Frodo’s finger, and taken Me for himself! It matters not, he cannot keep Me, I will be back with my Master again very soon.
He capers and gibbers, slavering over me once again, for I am “Precious.” To see what I have done to this slobbering fool, his life destroyed, his mind empty of everything except Me, makes the long waiting almost worthwhile.
No, stop you fool, WE’RE FALLING INTO THE FIRE—!