The Judgement on Smeagol

[littlemanpoet]

'We doesssn't know where we issss, my preciousss, no we doesssn't.'

'Smeagol!' rings a voice of Doom. Smeagolfea clasps his hairless feaskull under both fleshy hands, peering around in terror.

'Yesss, Massster, nice Massster?'

'Look up. No, higher.'

'Aaaaaaiiiii! Nice Massster, we hasssn't done nothing wrong, no we hasssn't, no matter what that nasssty hobbit with the potsess and pansess told you, Massster...'

'I know what you did, Smeagol. You are in my Halls, for you have died. You died possesssing the Ring of the Enemy of the Free Peoples of the Outer Lands.'

Smeagolfea squirms under the light of truth and flattens himself on the floor, trying to seep down into cracks in the floor, but there are none.

'Stand before me, Smeagol.'

Smeagolfea does not stand, but squirms and squirms.

Mandos Master of Doom waits thirty-six years for Smeagolfea to realize that he cannot hide from Mandos. He stands.

and so on......