The Fellowship of the Ring Werewolf

[E.N.]

As the darkness of night enveloped the land, a creature both good and foul, twisted and torn by a desperate need, consumed by the lust to possess the One Ring once again hunted its precious

And yet, as the creature prowled the outskirts of the village, hidden in the shadow of a knotted oak, he beheld a sight that pierced the darkness of his soul. He saw the villagers gathered in the common-house, their laughter cutting through the shadows, and watched them in their togetherness. In that brief, unguarded moment, the better part, the gentle Smeagol of old, rose up within him like a mist at dawn. A deep, forgotten longing stirred in his heart, and he was filled with a terrible, sweet ache for their warmth and their kinship, wishing with all his being that he might shed the chains of his wretchedness and join them.

Unbeknownst to the pitiful wreck, though, the servants of Sauron were approaching the village with dark intent in their darker souls. They sought to spill the blood of a villager but, upon stumbling across the deformed creature that may once have been Hobbit, they did not hesitate to strike him down, viciously attacking until his strangled cries subsided. Knowing the deathly screams would have alerted the village, they retreated, biding their time until they attacked again

The forces of darkness have killed Wendy the Wench, she was Smeagol, she was Gollum, both forces fighting for control each day, with nought but chance deciding.

Gollum was the serial killer.
Smeagol longed to be village.