They cursed you and you wept.
Yes my loved, you wept.
You forgot the taste of bread,
the joye of a friendship,
the warmth among your people.
Dear little Smégol, what have you done to your self?
What a kind of creature have you become?
This isn’t you, dear little Smégol.
An echo from the past.
They cursed you, told you to go to hell.
For them you were one.
You killed Deagol for a thing you felt such a strong desire to.
For that they won’t forgive you.
You cried as a child, you started to curse the world.
The only that mattered for you was this object, this something you both strongly loved and hated.
You came to a mountain, you decided to explore it.
It was your curiosity which drove you.
There you came to lose comprehension about time and space.
For long times you came to live there, fed by blind fish and goblins.
Explored the mountain with all it’s caves and passages, yet without finding any treasure.
That’s the way you lived, untill you met Mr Bilbo Baggins from the Shire.
He was the first being you talked to for many, long centuries.
Mr Baggins and you had a riddle game, this only play you had done togehter with others and had fun.
He won and you were going to break your vow, to be faithful only to yourself had become your survival tactics.
When you went to fetch your precious, this something that you idolized so strongly, you discovered it had abandoned you.
Your precious, your loved that you both loved and hated….