Gollum followed the dirty little thieves who stole the Precious
On a rocky ridge of the Emyn Muil Gollum looked out across the lake to the grassy field of Parth Galen upon it’s far side
May strange tidings had come from across the river to the eastern shore. Harsh cries, the ring of steel and the terrible stench of orc.
In the last few days Gollum had gone sniffing about the edges of the Emyn Muil, that bordered the eastern side of the lake of Nan Hithoel.
After the terrible fright he had suffered swimming through the tunnel of wild water, between the cliffs and the giant men of stone that looked down upon him unsmiling, Gollum had crawled wet and clammy onto the eastern shore. He looked out across the lake and saw Amon Hen on his right and Amon Lhaw upon his left, and in the center stood the great island of stone, Tol Brandir that rose up out of the roaring Falls of Rauros. Gollum did not know their names and not did he care, his thought was only for the Precious.
For two days he lay hidden upon the eastern bank, seeing and hearing many strange things. He had smelled orcs upon the eastern ridges of the Emyn Muil and had found the remnants of a camp that was now days old. He followed the track of the orcs down to the river, where they must have cross over to the western bank. He then backtracked along the lake and stopped, when he sniffed smoke on the far shore upon the grassy hill. As it grew dark he was able to see a small fire upon the opposite side of the lake. He lay down on the hard unyielding rock and slept fitfully, for he knew that the Precious was near.
Many things he saw, heard and smelt as the day grew and the yellow face climbed high into the sky above. He again smelled fire, hissing under his breath as they cooked and ruined nice raw fish. Soon his keen sense of smell detected other things. The scent of orc was on the wind. Then he heard high voices calling, the sound of yelling and the clash of steel, the harsh cries of orcs. Than he saw… or more accurately felt the worst thing of all… the Eye in the Dark Tower pass over like a shadow above him. he screamed and fell cringing upon the rocks, crying and covering his head. For a long time, he knew no more.
Time passed and then he became aware of voices talking quietly nearby. They were upon his side of the shore. Gollum crawled down to the lakes edge and there about a hundred yards away was a small gray boat that had been pulled up upon the shore and mostly covered with brush. It stank of elves, with their bright swords and cruel eyes. And yet there was another sent… one he had smelled before… it was the smell of hobbit. Gollum hissed low in his throat. He had no need to track the hobbits by smell, for there was something far more powerful and yet hidden the drew him.
The Ring… the Precious… it was here and he must have it! Gollum crawled and scrambled across the craggy ridges of the Emyn Muil. It’s razor sharp rocks, cut his long bony fingers and bare feet as he followed the Precious higher and higher into the hills.
For many days and nights, he crawled upon the hard cruel stone, the Precious just out of reach. Often he talked to himself, hissing in the darkness. He was famished and there was little food to be found here. Worms, beetles and grubs sustained him as he followed the two hobbits, one of which carried that which he desired above all else! These silly Hobbitess were taking the Precious into dangerous lands full of orcs. They wandered witless and lost among these hated hills.
Were were they going? Why did they take the Precious into such bad places? An endless stream of inane babble issued from from his cracked and dry lips, as he crawled after the Precious.
“Foolish they are to wander in such terrible placesss, so full or orcess and enemies, who will take the Precious to… to… HIM! We must save the Precious… oh yessss! Take it far away into hidden places where it will be safe!”
Such were the words of Gollum that were repeated over and over again, as he thought about the nothing but Ring… his only desire… his only love.