Chapter 3: A Small Thing

From time to time, people spoke in the hall outside his room. There was a landing at the end of the hallway, close enough to overhear conversations. It appeared to be a common place for people to stop and have a few words with each other.

Gollum listened, of course. They ought not to talk there if they did not want him to listen! But what they talked about was usually boring and often beyond his understanding, talk about chores or about people he didn't know, or both.

Sometimes, however, they talked about him. Gollum was prone to bite and struggle if he was startled, and if he could not bite he complained, and he soon discovered that he was not well liked by all of those who tended him. Which he had expected to be the case all along, of course, but hearing it aloud was a bit different from merely expecting it.

In times past, a few weeks ago, perhaps, this would have made him certain that he was now well justified in biting, struggling and complaining. Now he reflected on long-ago days of lurking invisibly in doorways while his family cursed his name, and muttering I knew it, I knew it all along, they hates me, they deserves it if I picks up a trinket or two, and those days had not led to anything pleasant, now had they? Was there nothing he could do to stop being so disliked? 

The next time he bit, he burst into tears after as if he had been the one injured.

"I can't help it," he shrieked, near hysterics, "I can't help it, your hand was in my face, and it moved like a mouse, it did, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"That is well," the Man grunted. "Calm thyself. I am not very much hurt, and I know by now that if I wish not to be bitten I must not put my hand where thy gnashing teeth can reach it."

That meant the Men had given up on him not biting, which troubled Gollum a great deal, though he could not have explained why. It was in fact true that he had not intended to bite, and yet he had- and that troubled him too.

So he had decided to be good and not listen to the people in the hallway, after all, Sméagol had promised to be very very good! He had promised on something that had gone, but he had promised to someone who was still alive, and also he didn't like hearing people who were twice his size and in control of his life say that they did not like him. He tried very hard not to listen when he heard himself being discussed...

"I have been told that Sméagol is housed on this floor." The voice sounded faintly familiar, but he could not put a name or face to it. He knew that the speaker must be large and tall, from the deepness of the voice and the heaviness of his footfalls, although it sounded as if he was also favoring one leg, and there was the clunk of a cane.

"Yes, my lord, the creature Sméagol lies in this room." Gollum tried to stop listening, yes, he really did, but the voice was coming closer and now quite loud. It was the voice of a woman who sometimes brought him food, now that he could eat unassisted and no longer needed to be handled by strong Men with thick gloves in order to be fed. "But he sleeps during the daylight hours and becomes restive at night, and is not now likely to be awake. If you wish to speak to him, I would humbly suggest that you return an hour after dusk, when he has woken and had a meal. At such times he becomes almost docile."

They stood just outside the door now. Gollum thought it best to assume that anyone who badly wanted to speak with him was probably on an errand that he would not like, and he quickly curled up and tried to look as if he was sleeping.

"I wish to see him," said the Man's voice. "But I am not certain I wish to speak with him. Perhaps a look will be enough. Will it wake him to open the door? I don't wish to disturb him."

Gollum pulled the covers over his head so that he could not be seen.

"We will not wake him if we are quiet." The door opened, and it did sound as if the person opening it was making an attempt to be quiet.

"He is not there!"

"He is there, my lord, under the blanket. He hides that way often."

"That cannot be him, that is little more than a wrinkle in the coverlet. A small thing, a small thing indeed." Footsteps approached, and now the big Man stood quite near. "It is one thing to be bested in willpower by the likes of Sam and Frodo, but this!" There was something approaching awe in his voice, mixed with a note of despair.

"My Lord Boromir," the woman said, "you will wake him if you speak loudly at his bedside."

"That is natural; I will return later, I believe I do desire a conversation with him... such a small thing. I am happy to return whenever he is most inclined to meet with me. I have little enough duty at this time." At this last, his voice was sorrowful.

The two were now leaving. Gollum was tempted to sneak a look at them, but the risk of being caught was too great. He stayed where he was, and trembled, because whatever a Man that size wanted from him it could be nothing good.

At dusk, the woman entered his room with a tray of cut-up chicken and set it before him. He set to at once, scowling a bit, because the woman sat near with her eyes impassively fixed on him. Eating was nasty business for him, blood everywhere, and he knew she must find him disgusting, and he also found it difficult to put aside the feeling that anyone who saw him with food might try to take it even though she had chosen to give him the food to begin with and surely would not take it back. The people here did not play such games.

Neither spoke until the meat was all gone, and Gollum had sniffed at the empty tray and licked up some of the blood (the gaze of the woman made him stop this before he otherwise would have).

"All gone," he said meekly. "A nice morssel, that, precious! And they have even taken out the little boneses that break and splinter. So kind to a wretched old creature." He rubbed self-consciously at his cheek, which had become sticky, and washed up in the shallow bowl of water that had been provided. Then he drank the water after washing in it. Out of the corner of his eye he noted the woman recoiling. He didn't have the faintest idea what he had possibly done wrong.

The woman stood up and took the tray in her hands. "The Lord Boromir wishes to speak to you later on," she said, rather stiffly. Ach! So that was coming, then. "You will be taken for a bath shortly, and then you shall be given proper dress."

A bath was all well and good, but Gollum could not even begin to guess what 'proper dress' meant. He was currently dressed in some kind of long tan-colored shirt with undershorts, simple garments that allowed for crawling and wriggling. He had been accustomed to wear only what he could pilfer (usually from orcs) and, as clothing could not always be pilfered, and clothing that was worn while swimming and climbing in rocks was often shredded and destroyed, Gollum was frequently reduced to wearing only a cloth girt about the waist. He had found, since being turned over to these Men, that it was somewhat pleasant to be able to cover up his scarred, slimy skin with sleeves so he didn't have to look at it and neither could anyone else. Although sometimes he found the clothing hot and itchy.

"You look weary," she said.

Gollum had woken about midday, with tormented dreams, and then he had heard the conversation with Boromir and wondered what the big Man wanted all afternoon instead of going back to sleep. He did not want to say so. "Not very weary," he said.

The woman still stood there, looking quite torn, and then she said: "I beg thee, speak fair words to Lord Boromir, a man who has suffered much."

"Yes, yes!" Gollum had no idea who this Man was or what he might want to say to him, but he was at the mercy of these- what had the nice hobbit called them the other day? Big People? That suited very well.

It was just easiest to agree with whatever they said.

The woman finally left.

'Proper dress' meant 'something itchy, heavy and too-hot'.

"Your strength returns, otter-halfling," said the Man carrying him.

"What?" Gollum snapped. "What did you calls me?" His mind had been elsewhere.

"You cling," said the Man. "Like a tree-frog."

"Yes, yes, Sméagol clings, precious," Gollum said, "like- what- frogses?" He had recently noticed that he had webbed feet, which- surely was not new, but somehow, somehow he had not noticed it before, or if he had noticed, it had not seemed odd until the other day, when he had spent about an hour staring at them until he began to feel unaccountably queasy and faint. Webbed like a duck. Or, yes, a frog.

"You cling with strength. I shall not drop you."

"No, no, he will not drop us," said Gollum, and did not relax his grip, nor did he realize the implication was that he ought to.

He did not appreciate being reminded that he had webbed feet.

Was the Man perhaps hinting that Gollum ought to be able to walk for himself? He had regained enough strength to crawl, which was a mode of motion that often suited him even when he was fit, but these clothes were restrictive and not suited for crawling. And the fabric of it seemed likely to tear at the knees, which would make them angry. Nor did he think much of the idea of crawling all over this accursed place with only a Man to give him directions, even if he was not too fond of being carried either.

The Man held him a little tighter, and shifted one hand to better support Gollum's back, which made his perch feel more secure. He relaxed his grip a tiny bit without realizing it.

He was brought into a room with dim lights, just bright enough so that neither he nor Men could quite see properly. A big Man sat there, about the size of Aragorn, he would say, perhaps even broader. A cane was propped against his chair, but he would be strong enough to be dangerous if he chose, oh yes.

Before the Man was set a pot of stinking leaf water and some empty cups. This boded poorly.

"My lord Boromir," said his keeper, "this is the creature Sméagol."

Boromir leaned forward in alarm. "He must be carried?"

"He is weak yet," said the Man, "and he weighs little enough."

"Is he well enough for conversation?"

Gollum could have answered that for himself but he felt a bit tongue-tied.

"Yes, he is alert, and only lacking in the use of his limbs," said his handler, "but he often will not speak unless addressed directly, although- he may speak to himself and expect you to answer, my lord."

"I see. Greetings, Sméagol. You are known to me," said Boromir. "Although I have heard often of your exploits under a different name."

Aha! So it was going to be one of those conversations. Gollum squirmed. Boromir was keenly watching him while trying not to give the appearance of watching him, a look he well knew.

"You're trembling!" Boromir exclaimed. "I mean no harm to you. But how can I expect you to trust me? Your limbs are as splinters next to mine. I am told you have had little cause to rejoice in your past encounters with my kind and that you barely understand what you have done or why our treatment of you has changed." He ran a huge hand over his face. A wild light of wonder was in his eyes. "Small in body but great in mischief, I called you; great in willpower, I should say." He turned to the Man. "You may set him down, if you would like, Eardwulf, unless there is some reason why you should not."

Eardwulf, so that was it. Likely Gollum had heard the name before but while half-asleep or not listening.

Eardwulf did not at once set him down. "My lord," he said, "Sméagol has some trouble of the glands, by which I mean he sweats profusely, or exudes something which is like sweat, and is prone to leave damp patches whenever he is allowed to rest on furniture."

"It is a clean damp patch," said Gollum, raising his head. "We have just had a bath." This was the first he had heard of this being a problem. He did not understand why it was a problem. The dampness would dry once he left, surely?

Boromir cleared his throat. "As it is a clean damp patch," he said, "and in any case, furniture can be mended, if need be, you may set him down."

Eardwulf leaned over the couch and gently let go of Gollum, who was not able to keep from losing his grip and settling onto the seat of the couch. He tried to look as if he had not tried to cling at all.

Eardwulf stood up straight, stoic in face. "Ought I to stay or go, my lord?"

"I was not planning to discuss anything secret," said Boromir. "What say you, Sméagol?"

Boromir was large and sleek. Despite his apparent injury he was strong, and he carried himself like a man who knew how to fight. Eardwulf smelled familiar, he was smaller and scruffier, he usually had a faint scent of dogs on his hands. He had previously refused to gossip about Sméagol in the hallway, unless Gollum was confusing him with someone else.

Gollum looked pleadingly at Eardwulf. He could not make up his mind to ask him to stay, but he did not want to tell him to leave either. "He may do what he likes," he faltered.

Boromir gestured to the couch, with a gravely solemn face. "You are then allowed to remain if you so choose, Eardwulf."

Eardwulf did choose, sitting close to Sméagol on the couch, and folding his hands on his knee, his face impassive. Gollum arranged himself into a comfortable position with his knees tucked in to his chest.

Boromir leaned closer. "Twas I who recommended Eardwulf," he said to Gollum. "He is a trusted caretaker here."

Gollum did not ask what he took care of, because Eardwulf so often smelled of dogs and was not overly distressed to be snapped at or bitten. We is dogs to them, he thought irritably.

"You appear to get along," said Boromir.

Eardwulf said calmly: "He is not a difficult charge, and is quite willing to tell what he needs, if one is willing to listen."

"I am glad to hear it," said Boromir. "Would you like some tea?"

"Ach, no," said Gollum, who thought the tea smelled foul. Eardwulf shook his head.

"I am required to have some," said Boromir, pouring himself a cup. "I am told it cures all ills, even those caused by broken bones." At least he was letting Gollum decline the tea. "Do you know why I wished to speak with you, Sméagol?"

"No," said Gollum. He thought he might scream. "Man has not told us."

"Because I understand you as little as you seem to understand me. I desired to know something of your mind. You are a halfling, they tell me, or you once were. You are as inscrutable as one. Samwise and Frodo have told me every detail of your journey as they recall it and that has not made your mind more clear to me."

 Sam probably lied, Gollum thought, he does not like us. "Master spoke with it, did he? He said good Sméagol keeps his promises."

"Yes," said Boromir, "he said so."

"O, the nice Master! He is the Master's friend, then, is he?"

Boromir seemed gripped with some emotion. "Frodo counts me his friend," he said, "though I scarce can credit it."

"Ah." Gollum would have liked confirmation from Frodo himself of this, but the big Man was unlikely to be lying, he seemed naïve.

"I would hear your story from your mouth, if you would tell it," said Boromir. "But if it is too painful you need not say anything about that matter. Say whatever you wish."

Gollum did not want to speak to this big Man at all. He seemed a bitsy insane as well as naïve. But to not speak would surely give offense, so after much inner debate (and a glance at Eardwulf, who said nothing), he asked: "Why does they call us hobbit?"

"I am told you were born of that kind, whatever you are now," said Boromir. "And whatever you are now, it has the stealth and silence of movement of a hobbit, and the size, and the strength of will. What say you, Eardwulf?"

"I know too little of hobbits to say," said Eardwulf. "He is not a creature of Men, of Elves or of Dwarves."

"Nor of Orcs?" Boromir asked.

"Certainly not."

"Not dog?" Gollum asked lightly.

"No. You are not a dog," said Eardwulf without a hint of any kind of emotion.

"Not a vampire, eh?"

"No. Perhaps you are a very short waterfay."

Gollum studied his face. Eardwulf did not look as if he was joking, but then, he never did.

Boromir was making a similar study, also apparently without success. He turned back to Gollum. "But you know better than we do what manner of creature you are. Tell me- what would you call yourself?"

"Sméagol calls himself Sméagol."

"Ah."

Gollum really did not have very much to say to this Man. He scuffled a bit and fell silent.

"I hear you dwelt once in the Misty Mountains," said the Man helpfully.

"Yes yes."

"Among orc-kind, I am told, or quite close alongside."

"Yes yes."

"Were you allied with orcs?"

"Yes- no!" he squeaked. Sam had thought he was, no doubt Sam had told the Man he was. "Orcses hates us, hates us! They will hurt poor Sméagol, they will kill him if they can."

"Did they not arrange for your escape from the elves of Mirkwood?"

"That is different," said Gollum, with a touch of haughtiness- he thought it should be very obvious that this was different. Boromir had not asked if he had ever grudgingly tolerated orcs, he had asked if they were allies. "They wanted that awful place, gollum! They were told to let us go, we thinks, only some of them sshot at my poor back while I was running away, not doing no one any harm," and he was inclined to spit on the floor at the memory of the treacherous pigs who had promised not to shoot him and then shot at him anyway, but just in time he recalled that spitting was not done in polite company, and also that he had said more than the question really required. "Gollum, gollum! No, orcses are not nice to us."

"Why then were they told to let you go?"

Gollum rubbed at his brow, sighing. "O, we do not know, do we? Wanted to let us search, could be... yes, search and search and tire and starve." To find what was stolen from him- and then He would have taken it away again, and not gently, either. Gollum rubbed his hands together, wincing. His long fingers were exquisitely sensitive from years and years of groping his way in the dark. "Gollum! But we showed Him, yes we did! The Master put paid to Him."

"That he did!" said Boromir. "But if orcs are no friends of yours how did you survive near them for so long? You are but one, and so small."

"Ah, they did not see Sméagol, did they? But we saw them. Gollum." He scratched at his stomach. This line of talk made him hungry. He wondered how long Boromir would keep him.

"Did you so dwell among an enemy, unseen, for- many lives of your kind, I have heard?"

"Long time, long time." He shifted in his seat. Eardwulf was studying him, his face impassive.

"I have long been a military man," said Boromir, "and I have fought orcs almost since I could hold a sword. It must take great cunning for one such as you to evade them for so long, even with the item you held. You must know their ways well."

Gollum preened a little, although he would never have said that he cared what some Man thought of him. "Well enough, well enough." There was not a great deal to occupy one's mind underneath a mountain, at times. Gollum had spied on the orcs now and then as he had spied on his village. But he left off of that after the first hundred years or so because orcs were not really very interesting. Even so- the orcs had not gone away after he stopped finding them interesting. He knew entirely too much about them, really.

"Perhaps you might tell me of them. There are many orcs who have fled and denned themselves up in the remains of what was once their lands, and they must be dealt with lest they re-infest. Your knowledge of how they live when sequestered in their dens may prove useful."

Talking of orcs would please the big Man, then, and it would not require Gollum to talk about himself. "Yes, yes. Nassty orcses, drive them out! They are messy and filthy and they put nasty things in the water. What does the Man wish to know about the orcses?"

In the end they had quite a discussion about the orcs. Few Men had seen orcs outside of altercations or captivity. Gollum had seen them in all of their most intimate moments.

"Why were you watching such things?" Boromir asked at one point.

"Couldn't leave until they had gone," said Gollum, "they may have seen us, or heard us, gollum, we were surrounded! Surrounded!" He remembered that day well because he had had a cramp in his leg and desperately wanted to come out from under the table, and he'd seriously considered biting some feet. "It is not helpful?"

"I cannot say," said Boromir, "whether the knowledge of this game called 'torture chess' will prove useful. I cannot say that it will not. I thank you for recounting it."

At another point Boromir asked: "It sounds as if you are more familiar with the anatomy of an orc than are any of our loremasters!"

"Taken apart lotses of them," Gollum said without thinking, "gollum! Nice orcses," for second breakfast had been delayed far longer than he would have chosen at this point.

To him it seemed as if a thick silence fell, waiting to be shattered like glass. (It may have in fact been true that both of the Men knew full well what the diet had been of this thing that had slashing fangs and would only eat raw meat, and it was something quite apart from their calm faces that made Gollum suddenly feel defiled and judged.)

"That is not information that I need to hear in detail right now," Boromir said lightly, "But there are others who would appreciate such knowledge. It would be most appreciated if you would speak with them."

"O yes," said Gollum, who was accustomed to occasionally needing to trade information with those who could benefit him. In fact this conversation had comforted him greatly because now he thought that one purpose of keeping him here in the City of Men to begin with was probably to gain such information as Boromir had been questioning him on. And that made sense.

So then they will keep us here like a pet until they have found all we know, he thought, but we know ever so much, more than we can tell in weeks and weeks! And with Him gone, and our Precious gone, we needn't keep what we knows to ourselves, need we, precious? And we do not want to stay here forever, no, it is stifling in their city. So we will tell what we know, and by the time we have finished we will be well, and tricksy Sméagol will slip off into the darkness where he belongs- before he can be cast out.

If Boromir noticed that Gollum seemed a little more relaxed- his eyes not bulging quite so much as before and the frantic sobbing sounds in his throat less frequent- it is likely that he guessed nothing of these thoughts, and only thought that Gollum had begun to get used to him. This was perhaps also true.

"But I have kept you here overlong," said Boromir. "You have given me enough information to think on, perhaps I should spend some time writing it down so that I do not forget."

"We will remember," said Gollum. "Ask us again if you wishes it."

"That is well. I will let you go- if you are indeed of hobbitkind, I suspect by now you are hungry."

Finally!

Gollum turned and crawled onto Eardwulf's knees. Eardwulf had been quite silent throughout all of this. Now he took the hint at once and gathered Gollum into his arms, standing up.

"I thank you for your help, Eardwulf," said Boromir.

"Yes, sir."

Eardwulf carried him out into the hall.

Gollum tugged at the big Man's collar. "Sméagol is hungry."

"I know."

They proceeded down the hall, and as Eardwulf stepped onto the stairs he said: "Was all of that true? About the orcs?"

"Yes. We do not lie anymore now," Gollum said, with a touch of coolness. "Sméagol is good as water now, he is. Honest Sméagol." He might lie a little if he had to. If he had to. He did not recall ever having lied to Eardwulf, however, and he resented the implication that he had.

"It beggars belief that you have lived that way. You are so small."

"Not so very much smaller than an orc. Master and Sam pretended to be orcses, they did. They put on orc clothes and went into the army!" This had happened when he was not there to witness it and he still was not quite sure Sam had not made it up.

"It is still hard to believe. Orcs are vicious, and dangerous."

Gollum looked up into the Man's thoughtful face. "Sméagol was vicious and dangerous once," he said. "Not long ago. You would not have liked him."

Perhaps Eardwulf still did not like him, but if he did not, he had the decency not to say so.

Unlike some people.

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