Two Towers - Drabbled, The
12. The Taming of Smeagol
Lost. No way out, no way ahead. The barren rock offers no shelter, no comfort, on a journey to the place where no one wants to go. A bog nearby, the stench is clear. Time is our greatest foe; time gives him strength.
Haunting black beats ride again. Pale eyes follows, though dare not stray too near.
Down a cliff, but pale eyes follow. The creature falls, Sting is unsheathed to threaten him. But mercy was in his hand, and mercy prevails now. “Do you know the way to Mordor?” The creature nods, The Precious keeps him to his word.
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