[Fic] for moon_very_thin
This is my first attempt at a LOTR fic. I hope this is what you were looking for. *bites nails nervously* If its not what you wanted let me know and I'd be happy to try again.
Title: Descent into darkness
Author: lil_1337
Pairing/Characters: Smeagol
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 611
Warnings/Kinks: Disturbing imagery
Summary: Smeagol finds the one ring weighs heavily on his sanity.
Disclaimer: Smeagol belongs solely to the ring of power and does only it’s bidding.
He could feel the ring. The weight of it when it was on his finger was as heavy as the pull on his soul. From the moment he has taken it from Deagol’s still warm hand it had possessed him. And he had given himself over to it, fully and without reservation. He dreamed of it, often waking to trace the edge of the metal circle with shaking hands, reassuring himself it was still there. Everyone wanted it. He knew. He could feel their eyes on him as he walked down the street, lusting for it, dreaming of ways to make it their own.
It was his and his alone to possess and lord over the members of his village. It made him feel stronger and more powerful then the others. Before he had been jealous of how they excluded him, making him feel as if he was on the outside looking in. A part of and yet separate from the life of the village he’d lived in all his life. But now he knew their secrets. The evil they perpetuated even as they tried to hide it behind patronizing smiles and false compassion.
Oh yes he knew. Knew which husbands cheated on their wives with the tavern lasses. Which bakers scraped mold off their bread and sold it anyway. He’d seen the mayor dead drunk in his study. Knew the games that the most upstanding member of society played with his daughter when no one was about to see it. He’d seen all this and more.
The ring had allowed him to do that. Given him the upper hand as he slipped unseen into places when nightmares roamed freely. The hidden corners of the world where greed and lust ruled openly and without fear of disclosure. This was his domain and he cast his net each night. Reeling in secrets as a fisherman pulled in his catch.
With his forbidden knowledge came power. Power to control and manipulate the people who had once delighted in doing the same to him. This one he made pay with gold, another with goods. The sanctimonious head of his family he’d extracted the highest price from, the life of his babe. He had enjoyed that one the most. Watching as the infant struggled in his cradle until his very life’s breath was extinguished.
He lived for the games, the pleasure of seeing the fear in the faces of the people as they passed him on the street. He owned them as the ring owned him. He belonged to it, worshiped it, even as it ate at him, using him up like fire on a rotten log.
He preferred the darkness now. Hiding unseen in the shadows, waiting and watching for his chance. The light of the sun blinded him, burning his skin and muddling his senses. He had no interest in the honest goings on of the day. They offered him nothing but the derision and contempt of the townsfolk. He had no need of that. He had his precious. His world of corruption that allowed him to believe he was no different than the people around him.
He fingered the heavy gold ring in his pocket, anticipating and fearing the moment when he would slip it on his finger and the world would transform. The familiar ache and burn tearing away at what little was left of his humanity. Soon it would be gone, leaving nothing but the pathetic shell of a creature. But not quite yet. Tonight he was powerful, feeding on the fear and loathing he had created. Tonight his precious belonged to him as completely as he did to it.
Title: Descent into darkness
Author: lil_1337
Pairing/Characters: Smeagol
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 611
Warnings/Kinks: Disturbing imagery
Summary: Smeagol finds the one ring weighs heavily on his sanity.
Disclaimer: Smeagol belongs solely to the ring of power and does only it’s bidding.
He could feel the ring. The weight of it when it was on his finger was as heavy as the pull on his soul. From the moment he has taken it from Deagol’s still warm hand it had possessed him. And he had given himself over to it, fully and without reservation. He dreamed of it, often waking to trace the edge of the metal circle with shaking hands, reassuring himself it was still there. Everyone wanted it. He knew. He could feel their eyes on him as he walked down the street, lusting for it, dreaming of ways to make it their own.
It was his and his alone to possess and lord over the members of his village. It made him feel stronger and more powerful then the others. Before he had been jealous of how they excluded him, making him feel as if he was on the outside looking in. A part of and yet separate from the life of the village he’d lived in all his life. But now he knew their secrets. The evil they perpetuated even as they tried to hide it behind patronizing smiles and false compassion.
Oh yes he knew. Knew which husbands cheated on their wives with the tavern lasses. Which bakers scraped mold off their bread and sold it anyway. He’d seen the mayor dead drunk in his study. Knew the games that the most upstanding member of society played with his daughter when no one was about to see it. He’d seen all this and more.
The ring had allowed him to do that. Given him the upper hand as he slipped unseen into places when nightmares roamed freely. The hidden corners of the world where greed and lust ruled openly and without fear of disclosure. This was his domain and he cast his net each night. Reeling in secrets as a fisherman pulled in his catch.
With his forbidden knowledge came power. Power to control and manipulate the people who had once delighted in doing the same to him. This one he made pay with gold, another with goods. The sanctimonious head of his family he’d extracted the highest price from, the life of his babe. He had enjoyed that one the most. Watching as the infant struggled in his cradle until his very life’s breath was extinguished.
He lived for the games, the pleasure of seeing the fear in the faces of the people as they passed him on the street. He owned them as the ring owned him. He belonged to it, worshiped it, even as it ate at him, using him up like fire on a rotten log.
He preferred the darkness now. Hiding unseen in the shadows, waiting and watching for his chance. The light of the sun blinded him, burning his skin and muddling his senses. He had no interest in the honest goings on of the day. They offered him nothing but the derision and contempt of the townsfolk. He had no need of that. He had his precious. His world of corruption that allowed him to believe he was no different than the people around him.
He fingered the heavy gold ring in his pocket, anticipating and fearing the moment when he would slip it on his finger and the world would transform. The familiar ache and burn tearing away at what little was left of his humanity. Soon it would be gone, leaving nothing but the pathetic shell of a creature. But not quite yet. Tonight he was powerful, feeding on the fear and loathing he had created. Tonight his precious belonged to him as completely as he did to it.