reality_crossroads | (no subject)

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The cold hard lands, they bites our hands, they gnaws our feet! The rocks and stones are like old bones, all bare of meat! *Here he pauses: the possible options he's come up with, over the years, for continuing require that he either rhyme 'feet' with itself or use the word 'fish' for two lines in a row. Despite his (admittedly small) ambitions Smeagol is not an especially good poet, nor does he have a wide range of topics to choose from.

*Thus he's going with his usual non-solution to problems he can't deal with, which is to splash at the water while hissing and muttering to himself. Happily he's discovered swim trunks; his old clothes were a nightmare and have been relegated to the rag pile.*

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Oh, now we sssee. Up was mossstly bad for poor Smeagol. The Yellow Face and the Ssstraight Ssstair and Wraiths on wingses. Never did any good come of having to look up. But if the nice Man likeses up, then things have indeed gone that way.

[Marty grimaces] I see, yeah. . .well, now "up" seems to be working better for you. Nexus is nice like that sometimes.

Good, Smeagol was ssstarting to get sssick of down.

Heh, yeah, I can bet. Folks been treating you right?

Oh yesss, they've been very kind to poor Smeagol. Helped me get a bed and sssuch. Better than we've known in a long time, Precious.

People here can be really nice, yeah. When I first arrived, there were a couple of people willing to show me the ropes -- and one even reunited me with Doc! So that was awesome.

Can't think of anyone we'd like to meet from home. Smeagol misses Deagol, but he remembers how that ended, and our time with Master Frodo didn't end much better. No, there are no friendses for Smeagol. No friends, no . . . *He gives Marty an exaggeratedly pitiful look, like a dog denied a treat. It's one of his main survival skills, not that it takes much to make him look pathetic. Five hundred years alone did most of the work for him.* Will nice Man be Smeagol's friend?

[Marty's answering look is a little "dude, you don't have to pull the pitiful look on me, I get it," but other than that it's perfectly friendly] Yeah, sure. I'd be happy to be your friend.

*He's so used to having to beg for things that it's kind of automatic. Someone actually being his friend, though? That's new.* Friendses, Precious? Don't believe it, my love. Want to believe it, Smeagol does. Don't be sssilly. Smeagol will be a good friend, yesss he will.

[Yeah, that's fair enough -- he's been through a lot with a lot of nasty people] I do mean it, I promise. And I'll do my best to be a good friend to you too!

*His smile is slightly mischievous, but mainly heartfelt.* Smeagol will do his best, in ssspite of Gollum. Don't give usss that, we can manage allieses at leassst. Not long you didn't. Husssh, you, he can hear usss.

*He turns back to Marty.* Friendses it is, yes. Real ones, for as long as the Man likeses.

[Marty lets Smeagol finish his argument with himself -- seems best not to interrupt that -- then nods] Sounds great to me. Maybe I can help you find some more shells?

Ooh, shellses it is then! Smeagol likes the shells.

Awesome! Let's see. . . [He doubts he can dive as deep or hold his breath as long as Smeagol can, but he can at least take a quick plunge and grab a handful of sand, rocks, and shells from the bottom before coming back up with a gasp to sort it all]

*Smeagol's ability to swim is downright uncanny, but he appreciates the attempt.* Ooh, thisss kind is new! Nice Man it isss for trying.

[Marty's just doing his best!] Great! I was hoping I'd get something good. Don't think I see as well underwater as you do.

Don't think many can. We couldn't either, in the long-ago before the Preciousss . . . *He picks up the new shell and slips it into a pocket.* Jussst us and the fish can see properly in dark waterses. Good skill for Smeagolses, not so much for other peoples.

I suppose -- though some humans like to explore the deep sea too. Curious about what's down there. They have to use artificial light, though, to see what they're doing.

Sssuch curiosity sounds dangerous, Men can't breathe water.

What kind of light? Can't ussse fire down there, after all.

It can be, but people want to know things. And we've got ways of getting air down there -- holding it in tanks, for instance.

It's -- well, you know what lightning is, right? We've figured out a way to harness that sort of thing and make it light things up for us. [Probably not the best explanation of electricity, but he thinks it'll do for Smeagol.]

*He seems dubious.* Bad things happen when lightning hitses water . . .

Yeah, but this is lightning contained in something where it can't get out. Something waterproof.

We sssuppose that workses. Wouldn't trust it ourselveses, but if they care that much . . . *He clearly doesn't understand why, though.*

Want to come sssee our, our collection? *Another word he's proud of remembering.*

Yeah, it does. I'll have to try and show you an example sometime. [shrugs] Humans are always sticking our noses into stuff -- even if it doesn't always work out. [yeah, thinking about a time when he should have been more careful about sticking his nose into something too good to be true. . .]

Sure! Just lead the way!

*Smeagol will just be leading the way to his little house on the beach, then.* We has a bed now! And a kitchen and things.

*In one corner is a little table with seashells and interesting rocks and the general detritus of someone both curious and dexterous enough to collect whatever catches his eye.*