The Return of the Shadow. Christopher Tolkien

not give it to the goblins, then?’ asked Bingo.

      ‘I don’t think Gollum would have found that amusing enough,’ said Gandalf. ‘The goblins are already so beastly and miserable that it was wasting malice on them. Also it would have been difficult to escape from the hunters if there was an invisible goblin to reckon with. But I suppose he might have put it in their path in the end (if he had plucked up enough courage to do anything); but for the unexpected arrival of Bilbo. You remember how surprised he was. But as soon as the riddles started a plan formed in his mind – or half-formed. I dare say his old bad habits would have beaten his resolves and he would have eaten Bilbo if it had proved easy. But there was the sword, you remember. In his heart, I fancy, he never seriously expected to get a chance of eating Bilbo.’

      ‘But he never gave Bilbo the ring,’ said Bingo. ‘Bilbo had got it already!’

      ‘I know,’ said Gandalf. ‘And that is why I said that Gollum’s ancestry only partly explained events. There was, of course, something much more mysterious behind the whole thing – something quite beyond the Lord of the Rings himself, peculiar to Bilbo and his great Adventure. There was a queer fate over these rings, and especially over [?this] one. They got lost occasionally, and turned up in strange places. This one had already slipped away from its owner treacherously once before. It had slipped away from Gollum too. That is why I let Bilbo keep the ring so long.¹⁸ But for the moment I am trying to explain Gollum.’

      ‘I see,’ said Bingo doubtfully. ‘But do you know what happened afterwards?’

‘Not very clearly,’ said Gandalf. ‘I have heard a little, and can guess more. I think it certain that Gollum knew in the end that Bilbo had somehow got the Ring. He may well have guessed it soon. But in any case the news of the later events went all over Wilderland and far beyond, East, West, and South and North. The mountains were full of whispers and reports; and that would give Gollum enough to think about.¹⁹ Anyway, it is said that Gollum left the mountains – for the goblins had become very few there, and the deep places more than ever dark and lonely, and the power of the ring had left him. He was probably feeling old, very old, but less timid. But I do not think he became less wicked. There is no news of what happened to him afterwards. Of course, it is quite likely that wind and the mere shadow of sunlight killed him pretty quickly. But it is possible that it did not. He was cunning. He could hide from daylight or moonlight till he slowly grew more used to things. I have in fact a horrible fancy that he made his slow sneaking way bit by bit to the dark tower, to the Necromancer, the Lord of the Rings. I think that Gollum is very likely the beginning of our present trouble; and that through him the Lord found out where to look for this last and most precious and potent of his Rings.’

      ‘What a pity Bilbo did not stab the beastly creature when he said goodbye,’ said Bingo … .

‘What nonsense you do talk sometimes, Bingo,’ said Gandalf. ‘Pity! It was pity that prevented him. And he could not do so, without doing wrong. It was against the rules. If he had done so he would not have had the ring, the ring would have had him at once. He might have been a wraith on the spot.’

      ‘Of course, of course,’ said Bingo. ‘What a thing to say of Bilbo. Dear old Bilbo! But why did he keep the thing, or why did you let him? Didn’t you warn him about it?’

      ‘Yes,’ said Gandalf. ‘But even over Bilbo it had some power. Sentiment............... He liked to keep it as a memento. Let us be frank – he continued to be proud of his Great Adventure, and to look on the ring now and again warmed his memory, and made him feel just a trifle heroic. But he could hardly have helped himself anyway: if you think for a moment, it is not really very easy to get rid of a Ring once you have got it.’

      ‘Why not?’ said Bingo, after thinking for a moment. ‘You can give it away, throw it away, or destroy it.’

      ‘Yes,’ said Gandalf – ‘or you can surrender it: to the Master. That is if you wish to serve him, and to fall into his power, and to greatly increase his power.’

      ‘But no one would wish to do that,’ said Bingo, horrified.

      ‘Nobody that you can imagine, perhaps,’ answered Gandalf. ‘Certainly not Bilbo. That is what made it difficult for him. He dared not throw it away lest it get into evil hands, and be misused, and find its way back to the Master after doing much evil. He would not give it away to bad folk for the same reason; and he would not give it away to good folk or people he knew and trusted because he did not wish to burden them with it, any sooner than he was obliged. And he could not destroy it.’

      ‘Why not?’

      ‘Well, how would you destroy it? Have you ever tried?’

      ‘No; but I suppose one could hammer it, or melt it, or do both.’

      ‘Try them,’ said Gandalf, ‘and you will find out what Bilbo found out long ago.’

      Bingo drew the Ring out of an inner pocket, and looked at it. It was plain and smooth without device, emblem, or rune; but it was of gold, and as he looked at it it seemed to Bingo that its colour was rich and beautiful, and its roundness perfect. It was very admirable and wholly precious. He had thought of throwing it into the hot embers of the fire. He found he could not do so without a struggle. He weighed the Ring in his hand, and then with an effort of will he made a movement as if to throw it in the fire; but he found he had put it back in his pocket.

      Gandalf laughed. ‘You see? You have always regarded it as a great treasure, and an heirloom from Bilbo. Now you cannot easily get rid of it. Though as a matter of fact, even if you took it to an anvil and summoned enough will to strike it with a heavy hammer, you would make no dint on it. Your little wood-fire, of course, even if you blew all night with a bellows would hardly melt any gold. But old Adam Hornblower the smith down the road could not melt it in his furnace. They say only dragonfire can melt them – but I wonder if that is not a legend, or at any rate if there are any dragons now left in which the old fire is hot enough. I fancy you would have to find one of the Cracks of Earth in the depths of the Fiery Mountain, and drop it down into the Secret Fire, if you really wanted to destroy it.’²⁰

      ‘After all your talk,’ said Bingo, half solemnly and half in pretended annoyance, ‘I really do want to destroy it. I cannot think how Bilbo put up with it for so long, if he knew as much – but he actually used it sometimes, and joked about it to me.’

      ‘The only thing to do with such perilous treasures that Adventure has bestowed on you is to take them lightheartedly,’ said Gandalf. ‘Bilbo never used the ring for any serious purpose after he came back. He knew that it was too serious a matter. And I think he taught you well – after he had chosen you as his heir from among all the hobbits of his kindred.’

      There was a long silence again, while Gandalf puffed at his pipe in apparent content, though under his lids his eyes were watching Bingo intently. Bingo gazed at the red embers, that began to glow as the light faded and the room grew slowly dark. He was thinking about the fabled Cracks of Earth and the terror of the Fiery Mountain.

      ‘Well?’ said Gandalf at last. ‘What are you thinking about? Are you making any plans or getting any ideas?’

      ‘No,’ said Bingo coming back to himself, and finding to his surprise that he was in the dark. ‘Or perhaps yes! As far as I can see I have got to leave Hobbiton, leave the Shire, leave everything and go away and draw the danger after me. I must save the Shire somehow, though there have been times when I thought it too stupid and dull for anything, and fancied a big explosion or an invasion of dragons might do it good! But I don’t feel like that now. I feel that as long as the Shire lies behind safe and comfortable, I shall find wandering and adventures bearable. I shall feel there is some foothold somewhere, even if I can’t ever stand on it myself again. But I suppose I must go alone. I feel rather minute, don’t you know, and extremely uprooted, and, well,