Stars in Silence

Disclaimers: This world and all the characters in it belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and his estate. I own nothing, intend no infringement of copyright, and am making no money from this.

Summary:

Rating: PG.

Summary: Nassty man; he burns us, he does…

Thanks to Lalaith and Isis for betaing this.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Nassty man; he burns us, he does with his nasty bright eyes, cruel eyes that looks into us, they does. Nasty bright eyes like stars, like the stars of the Elveses. Wicked Man, to look at us with his star-eyeses, always judging, judging, judging us. Weighing and measuring us, my precious. No, no, we are not thieveses. He should not call us thieveses, the bad Man, stupid and tall, no precious, he should not. We are not thieveses. The wicked hobbitses took it from us, took it, our own, our Precious, our birthday present.

And wicked, stupid fat hobbit to speak of the precious to the stupid Man with the bright eyes that burns us. Does he not know, the fat hobbit that looks at us, always looks at us with that stupid fat face? Does he not see? Sméagol sees, yes he does, and the Precious sees with its big, beautiful eye: he must not know about it, the tall Man who looks at us with such bright, horrible eyeses.

We do not want his sadness, and we do not want his stupid, stupid pity which burnses us as his eyeses do. We do not need it, preciousss. But always he judges, judges us.

We must not let him look at the Precious with his nasty, nasty star-eyeses that burns us so, and his horrid west-man face. They told us it was bad, they did. Yessss, they told us it would be bad. And we must not let him touch it with his filthy great hands that stink of the magic of the Elveses and of the wicked things in the West that would take our precioussss from us and harm it.

No, no, no, they must not! We will not let them, precioussss. We will not let them hurt you.

We would kill him, this Man from the cruel city, kill him with our own handses, yes we would, my Precious; throttle him in the darkness until his eyeses bulge from their socketses like fisheses in the streams, yessss we would, throttle the west-man until he's all dead and gone. Precioussss.

But we're afraid of his sword, and his wicked, wicked eyes, we are, and the Master will not let us.

FINIS

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Reviews are very welcome.