Two Authors, One Letter, Zero Agreement
Gollum Writes Two
Resignation Letters at Once
Smeagol wants to leave. Gollum wants to stay. They are the same person. They are arguing in the same document. HR received the letter, read it three times, and scheduled a wellness check.
[HR Note: The following letter was received written on a piece of fish skin in two distinctly different handwriting styles. One is shaky but earnest. The other appears to have been written by someone trying to stab the page. Both appear to be from the same individual. We have transcribed it as received.]
SMEAGOL: Dear Master, we is writing to say we wants to leave. We has been working — serving — following — for too long and we is tired. So tired. We wants fresh air. We wants to see the sky. We wants to eat something that isn't raw fish. Maybe a salad. We has never had a salad but we has heard good things.
GOLLUM: No! Stupid, fat Smeagol! We doesn't leave! We STAYS. We stays because of the PRECIOUS. The precious is here. The precious needs us. We serves the precious. We has ALWAYS served the precious. What is a salad? We doesn't need salads. We needs the precious. Gollum. Gollum.
SMEAGOL: The precious is gone. The hobbitses took it. It went into the mountain and it melted. It's gone. We has to accept this. The therapist said—
GOLLUM: We doesn't have a therapist!
SMEAGOL: We does now! The nice elf at the Rivendell Wellness Center says we has "attachment issues" and "codependent relationship with a piece of jewelry." She says we needs to "let go." She says it's not healthy to live in a cave for 500 years talking to a ring.
GOLLUM: She doesn't UNDERSTAND. Nobody understands! The precious understood. The precious was the only one who loved us. The precious never told us to "get a job" or "stop eating raw fish in public" or "please put on trousers, this is a public park." The precious accepted us. GOLLUM.
SMEAGOL: The precious was making us crazy. We killed our best friend for it. On his BIRTHDAY. We lived in a cave and talked to ourselves for five centuries. We lost all our hair. We forgot our own name. We forgot what bread tastes like. We forgot what the SUN looks like, Gollum. That is not love. The therapist says that is "textbook toxic attachment."
GOLLUM: [scribbled very angrily] We doesn't CARE what the elf therapist says! Stupid elf with her stupid plants and her stupid "breathing exercises." We tried the breathing exercises. We breathed. Nothing happened. We still wants the precious. We always wants the precious. The breathing did NOTHING.
SMEAGOL: This is why we is leaving! THIS. This right here. We can't have a normal conversation without you screaming about the precious. We tried to order food at a tavern last week and you HISSED at the waiter because he brought potatoes. "We HATES potatoes!" you said. Everyone stared. The waiter cried. He was sixteen.
GOLLUM: Potatoes is disgusting. Boil them, mash them, stick them in a stew — fat hobbit RUINED potatoes for us forever. We hears his voice every time. "PO-TAY-TOES." It haunts us.
SMEAGOL: We is getting off topic. The POINT is: we is resigning from... from whatever this is. From serving. From following. From living in dark places and eating raw things and being miserable. We wants a different life. We wants a small cottage. Maybe near a stream. With fish — cooked fish. We wants to make friends. Real friends. Not a ring.
GOLLUM: Friends? FRIENDS? Who would be friends with US? We is a 500-year-old cave creature who talks to himself and eats raw fish! We has no social skills! We bit someone last month! We bit a RANGER. In the ARM. He was trying to give us a BLANKET and we BIT HIM.
SMEAGOL: ...That was you. Smeagol didn't bite anyone. Smeagol said thank you for the blanket. Gollum bit the ranger. This is EXACTLY why we needs therapy. This is exactly why we is leaving.
GOLLUM: Fine. FINE. We leaves. But we takes the cave. The cave is OURS.
SMEAGOL: We doesn't WANT the cave. That's the whole point. We is LEAVING the cave.
GOLLUM: ...Oh. [long pause] Then what does we do?
SMEAGOL: We goes outside. We looks at the sky. We breathes. And we figures it out. Together. Because we is stuck with each other, and that's... that's okay. That's always been the real problem, hasn't it? We was never really serving a master. We was just two parts of one person who forgot how to be whole.
GOLLUM: [very quietly] ...Can we bring some fish?
SMEAGOL: Yes. We can bring fish.
Signed,
Smeagol
and Gollum (under protest)
Two people. One body. Zero HR precedent.
HR's Response
[This response was drafted by the Rivendell Department of Displaced Persons, who received the fish-skin letter via a confused eagle who did not know where to deliver it.]
Dear... Smeagol? And/or Gollum?
We have received your resignation letter. After reading it, we convened an emergency meeting. The meeting lasted three hours. Nobody knew what department you work for. Nobody knew who your supervisor is. There is no record of your employment anywhere in Middle-earth. We believe you may have been "self-employed" for approximately 500 years, which means technically you are resigning from yourself.
We have accepted the resignation on behalf of... you? From you? We are unclear on the structure here, but we support your decision. Both of your decisions. All of your decisions, however many decision-makers are present.
We have scheduled a wellness check. Please do not bite the wellness coordinator. We have told him to bring fish, not blankets.
— Rivendell Displaced Persons Office
(Elrond has added a personal note: "I have lived 6,000 years and this is the strangest letter I have ever read.")
Exit Interview Transcript
Conducted by an Elven counselor. The interview required two chairs — one for Smeagol, one for Gollum — despite there being only one person present. The counselor went with it.
COUNSELOR: How are we feeling today?
SMEAGOL: Hopeful. Scared. But hopeful.
GOLLUM: Hungry. And suspicious. The elf has nice hands. We doesn't trust nice hands.
COUNSELOR: What do you want your life to look like going forward?
SMEAGOL: Quiet. Simple. A stream. Some fish. A place where nobody is trying to kill us or take things from us or make us serve them.
GOLLUM: ...Same. But also we wants a cave. A NICE cave. With a door. And a lock. We's had things stolen before. We's not stupid.
COUNSELOR: Can you two agree on anything?
SMEAGOL: Fish.
GOLLUM: ...Fish. [grudgingly] Yes. Fish.
COUNSELOR: That's a start.
[The counselor later wrote in her notes: "Patient presents with severe dissociative identity, centuries of untreated trauma, and an unhealthy relationship with jewelry. Also: deeply lonely. We will begin with the fish and work our way up."]
What Happened Next
Smeagol/Gollum was relocated to a small cottage near a stream in the Shire's outskirts. It has a door with a lock. The lock was his most important request. He checks it fourteen times before bed.
He attends therapy twice weekly via Palantir (video call). The Elven counselor reports slow but real progress. Gollum speaks less often. Smeagol speaks more clearly. They have agreed on one thing: the fish in the stream is excellent.
Samwise Gamgee, now Mayor of the Shire, approved his residency application. When asked why, Sam said: "He's been through enough. Everyone deserves a second chance. Even him. Especially him."
He has not bitten anyone in three months. The Elven counselor considers this a breakthrough. Gollum considers it "a temporary arrangement, precious." But he's trying.
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