Remembering

The thoughts I have on moonlit nights are strange. I am a different person then. I keep remembering and remembering on these nights… remembering long before I was born. I can close my eyes and remember Isildur dying, I remember cutting the Ring off the finger of Sauron and watching him crumble to ash, I remember whispering to the shiny gold in my hand…. My preciousssssss.
It is on these nights that I pity Gollum- no, not Gollum, but Smeagol, who was too weak to resist it, as I was then, in the time of Isildur. And yet it is on these nights that I remember strength… the courage it took to cut the ring off His finger… and I know that I can resist its power now. Now, when I am younger and older, more foolish and wiser… and I see that I can recover Gondolin and save it… that I will rule as no king in Gondor has done before.
It is strange, sometimes, to think about that tiny circle of metal that is the hub of malice, of terror and horror and hate, and believe that to wield it would bring destruction to all. I wonder how it would feel to have the cold, bright metal circle touch my finger, make me more powerful than I could ever be, and my hand strays to Frodo's pocket, where it lies, so close, so near to me and my heart. And then, as I gaze at this night of stars and moon, I remember the feeling of it slipping off my finger, the taste of blood as the arrow was shot, the feeling of betrayal; and I know that I will be betrayed, as I was before and as will all who wield it… for it leaves scars, too deep to heal, and even in its destruction the destroyer will be destroyed. And then I feel but pity for Frodo, jealousy gone, and pray that his small heart will not be destroyed in this endeavor…
But as I turn away, a voice echoes deep within the darkest recesses of my mind…
My precioussssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss…….