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...I remeber Smeagol, perched there on the precipice
of The Cracks of Doom, the ring was clutched in his
hand, and a little trickle of blood was slidding down
his chin from my finger. I was hypnotized by that trickle,
and no one wiped it away.
I remember when I first met him, perched above my and
Sam's heads, hissing and roaring abut thieves, but after
that, I'll always remember him as I saw him last. Perched
on the precipice of the Crack of Doom, with the ring
in his hand, and that little trickle of blood sliding
down his chin...