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    #198
    JP first came out on video on October 4, 1994. The DVD's would not follow until October 10, 2000. (From: 'Kevy Mac')
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    The Lifeline of Gollum
    By Dac

    Many know me as Gollum, loathsome creature from beneath the Misty Mountains. But no one ever stopped to think of my end of the story of the ring. I am Smeagol, riddler of the dark, master of beginnings, owner of the ring…and this is my story.

    On the banks of the Great River was a family of creatures. Curious minded, shorter than the big people, and very like the Halflings of the West. Ruled by a grandmother of all, she had many sons and daughters, and they in turn had their own children. And there was a very inquisitive pair of friends: Deagol, sharp-eyed and lover of fishing, and Smeagol, quick, fast, and interested in beginnings.

    One day, the pair sailed down the river, where Deagol fished, and I, Smeagol, went hunting for roots. I watched with interest as Deagol was pulled in by a large fish, and when he resurfaced, he clutched a golden ring. Such a beautiful thing I had never seen before, and I instantly yearned it. I went out and confronted Deagol. It was my birthday, you see, and I wanted it. But the obstinate fool said he would keep it, and my yearning pushed me over the limit. I killed him. I strangled him around the neck and buried his body, and then I slipped the ring on, and sailed home.

    When I got home, I found out something amazing: I was invisible. I developed a taste for listening to secrets, and revealing them when visible. However, this darkened their opinion of me, and before long, the Grandmother expelled me from the hole. I never saw my family again.

    I left the Grandmother hole on the Great River, and hid in Mirkwood for some time, using my ability to catch food easily-even Elves and giant spiders. However, I knew I couldn’t stay in Mirkwood for long, and left it, wondering where to go. I travelled west, and came upon a huge mountain range: The Misty Mountains. I was sure mountains had roots, so I ventured into a cave to find them. I travelled for days in the mountain, and was starving when I came into an underground lake. It had a tiny rock island in the center, and seemed perfect for a home. But as I settled in, I faced peril: an Orkrar, more commonly known as a Watcher in the Water, happened to dwell in that lake. It rose to meet me, whipping its tentacles around me in rage and surfaced its head to eat me. But with the ring on my finger, no creature could stand a chance. Only Sauron himself could beat me with it on. I killed the Orkrar, and feasted on its body for weeks.

    For 5 centuries, I killed and ate fish in that lake. I ate any stray orcs or cave-trolls that blundered into my home, whether cautiously or carelessly, and the ring and I killed the lot. But something happened that changed my life forever. The most unlikely creature imaginable strayed into my lake, something I had only heard about in tales: a hobbit, a Halfling of the West, a creature similar to my race, and I could see the resemblance between it and Deagol. It saw me, and we agreed on a deal. We would play a riddle competition. If it won, I would show it the way out. If I won, I would devour it. It would be different to gritty troll and spicy orc. But the little scum cheated; it asked, “What have I got in my pocket?” I lost, of course, because I didn’t know, so I thought, if it could cheat, then so could I. I paddled to my island to find the ring…but it was gone. I realised what had happened. The Halfling had found my ring. It must have fallen off a few hours before, when I killed a young goblin in the passage. I pursued Baggins-for that was his name-to the hole I had entered in all those years ago, but he jumped through. I knew it; he had stolen it, and without it I would not last long against the masses of orcs in the caverns. So I left the mountains, my home for five centuries, to find the ring.

    Many years later, over 6 decades, I still had not claimed it. I had searched Gondor, Rohan and Mirkwood for the Halfling, and the surroundings of Erebor, the Lonely Mountain, and was travelling through Mordor. I had learnt of a path through Emyn Muil, the Labyrinth of Rocks, and found a passage through the marshlands, and found myself in the area of Cirith Ungol, the Spider’s Lair. I found out why it was named that soon; I was cornered in a small cavern by a spider triple the size of those I killed in Mirkwood. But Shelob, as she was called, was not like them; she could be bargained with. She regarded me as too stringy to eat, and released me. I befriended her, and said I may return. The pass itself was named Torech Ungol: Shelob’s Lair. I heard Sauron’s guard orcs saying that as I evaded them. But as I left the tunnel, the Dark Lord’s dreaded Ringwraiths caught me, and took me to his fortress of Barad-dur.

    Sauron’s stronghold of Barad-dur was awful. They tortured me with flaming sticks, red-hot irons small daggers until I blurted out two words: “Shire! Baggins!” The Shire was the place Baggins had come from, he had said. For revealing just those two words, I was set loose. I wandered for days, and was caught by a man near the marshlands. He brought me to Mirkwood, where he, a wizard and several elves interrogated me, and stuck me in a cell. But Sauron’s forces attacked the jail, and I escaped. I fled south-west and found another cave at the base of the Misty Mountains. I hoped it would lead to my beloved hole, but it was horrible; it was the Mines of Moria. I wandered for days in there, but when I came to the west gate, I could not get out. I hid there for weeks, feeding off carcasses.

    There I stayed for months, feeding on rats, dwarven or orkish bodies, and other disgusting things I couldn’t name. I hid in fear, not just from the orcs, but from a foe beyond armies, or even Shelob: Durin’s Bane, a Balrog. It found me once, and would have killed me, had I not used my wits and reflexes. It hurled fireball after fireball, and whipped blindly with its flaming nine-tailed whip. I ducked behind some rocks, and it thought it had incinerated my body. It left me nursing my wounds in pain and fear.

    I was lost until a new group entered the mine, and I couldn’t have been more delighted, for they spoke among themselves and called their band the Fellowship of the Ring. One of them, a Halfling, spoke in his sleep…about how he got the ring. This was Baggin’s heir, and the ring he carried was my precious. But I knew to be wary; one of them was the man that caught me at the marshes, and another was the wizard who interrogated me.

    I followed them everywhere, through the mines, Lothlorien forest, and down the Great River Anduin…until two of the Halflings, one of whom carried the ring, separated from the rest, and I caught up to them in Emyn Muil. But I was outnumbered, starving, and they had swords. One was the sword Baggin’s had threatened me with all those years ago. So I put up an act and pretended to be tamed…but I was torn in two. I really liked this new Baggins, I really did, but he had my ring, so I loathed him at the same time. I formed a plan: I led them into Torech Ungol and betrayed Baggins to Shelob. I promised not to hurt him, so I’d get Shelob to do it for me. But the other, the mean hobbit, I wanted his blood on my teeth. But my plan fell apart; the mean one got away and took the ring, and injured Shelob in the process. And Baggins was taken to the tower of Cirith Ungol. The sneaky one rescued him, but I couldn’t let them go any further. If they tossed the ring into Orodruin, Mount Doom, I would deteriorate. I cornered them on the edge of the volcano, and fought the wicked Baggins, and bit off his finger. A brief victory, and I caused Baggins pain, but I paid a terrible price: my life. I fell into the lava of Mount Doom.

    10/6/2002 10:07:40 PM

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