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Unmaking the Ring

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At that last moment before his thin, gnarled body hit the swirling lava in Mount Doom, Gollum saw his entire life with perfect clarity. Smeagol and Deagol, brothers, friends, inseparable until that day, his birthday when he heard it call to him. The Ring, all shiny and gold and inviting. He took it!

His grandmother cast him out. No one he’d ever known would speak to him or even look at him. He had done the unthinkable, killed his own brother. He left all he had known, moved into the mountain where it was cold and dark.

He hadn’t cared for long. The Ring was all he needed, all he wanted. It loved him, his precious loved him. It called to him from afar when the dirty hobbit took it away and now he had it back. It was his once again! No one would ever take it away from him again! No one!

At the very last second, when he could feel the searing heat from below, he knew that he would soon be free. Free from pain, sorrow, hunger… free from the Ring.

At last!

He welcomed the flames as they engulfed him and burned the Ring away.