Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien, etc. I am only borrowing his characters for this fanfiction and am making absolutely no profit whatsoever from them.

Credit: Tuckborough.net

Déagol

Déagol clambered onto the riverbank, gulping air as he crawled. Rising, he brushed sodden hair from his eyes and exposed the palm of his right hand. Gazing transfixed at his shiny prize, he stretched out a finger to caress it.

Treasure! On the riverbed! Just waiting for him. For him! No one else. Déagol and his treasure. His beautiful, beautiful shiny prize. Together they would be happy. He would catch more fish than anyone with its aid - be the envy of his village. Be the mayor of his village, even!

Anything was possible, as long as he had his treasure.

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