All Gollum—perhaps it would be more accurate to say Sméagol—ever wanted was to be loved. Cared for, accepted, stroked on the head, and told that he was meant to be here. That he was not a failure, that the ring was wrong.

But a thought like that remains a thought only in his head, a thought that flashes away in a mere millisecond as he lays his head against the hard ground, feeling and recognizing the wet moss that covers his resting place.

For that is a dream that he will never attain.