Frodo and Gollum

- jan-u-wine


Slowly,

so slowly,

we

have gone

mad....

you

and

I,

together.


As if evil

were some

bright

bandage,

I press

it to me,

staunching

the flow

of my sanity,

replacing

it

with dark

dreams

of familiar

terror.


Soon,

I know,

soon,

this horror

will be

bright

reality,

I,

the shadowed dream.


What

does this tiny

circlet,

shining so prettily

in the sun,

mean?

Nothing.



Everything.


Caught

between my love

and

my hate,

I will offer it

to

you.


Like my image

in

a muddied stream,

your eyes

stare back

into mine.



The sound

scratching

at your throat....

it is.....

laughter?



You

collection

of rag-wrapped bones,

and forgotten sin

dare

to laugh at


us?


Pity.

It was pity

that stayed

Bilbo's hand.



That

was

a hand

unmarred

by the beauty

of this wondrous

Evil.




I

Shall

pity you:

I

will

kill you

if you touch

It

again.



Somewhere,

in

a very small

space

of time,

a moment

of gladness

pushes

into my mind:

Gentle,

worry-stained eyes

reach into the blackness

within.

Oh, Sam,

I am glad

for once,

you do not

understand

your Master.