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Iorhael's Short Accounts  by Iorhael

Shaft of Light

“I know what I have to do, Sam. The Ring was entrusted to me. It's my task! Mine! My own!”

Something stirred in me. Something dark, cold – and that was gagging me. It could have somehow brought me to lift my hands and simply strangled him. Oh, of course. He could yell at me whenever he liked. I was a mere servant. I carried his things. I followed him around. I went whenever he went. Even to this bleak land.

“Sam!”

Startled, I raised my head. My eyes sought him, my Master, and there he was.

I blinked.

Mr. Frodo was hunkering down before the small brook, his face turning back at me. In his hand was a wriggling wee fish, splashing rivulets of water to his face.

And he smiled.

“See what Smeagol had caught us, Sam.”

I felt light in the head.

Mr. Frodo had smiled, despite all the drabness of this country and his weariness.

He smiled – something I had never seen ever since we left the Elf Queen’s forest. And to think that I ever had a desire to hurt him…

I was this close to scream. This land – this land had definitely tainted my heart for I had never, ever had the wish to do something like that. Not while I still had me in this body.

He smiled – and I was mended.


~ * ~





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