[Child of the 7th Age]

Bingo had said little as they walked down to the river to catch the turtles. His mind was preoccupied with other things. When his mother and father were alive, they had fled the acrimony of Brandy Hall and occupied a rambling burrow near the banks of the Baranduin, almost like the Stoors of days long past. Dinodas Brandybuck, Bingo’s father, had always been fond of turtles and thought them quite intriguing. He had a gift for trapping and hunting the creatures that enabled him to keep his wife and children fed while trading leftover turtles back to Brandy Hall for other goods.

Bingo remembered the day he had helped his father dam a side tributary of the river to create a large holding pond at the rear of the family’s burrow. They had stocked the pond with fish and turtles and encircled it with a tall wood fence. In it lived a snapper named George, round and heavy as a boulder, with a nasty temper that was even more pronounced than his massive size. George had somehow escaped the family’s cooking pot to live several years in the pond, making steady inroads on his smaller neighbors there. Whenever Bingo walked over to the pond to do some errand for his Da, George regularly terrorized the lad, coming close to try and nip his toes.

Despite this, Dinodas had defended the turtle to his son, pointing out that George had reason for his actions, “A smart critter, and no wonder he’s so testy. He’s lived longer than even Mister Bilbo of Hobbiton, and that’s no easy task.”

On the night that Bingo learned of his mother and father’s deaths, he had gone to the pond and enticed old George into a wooden box, lugging him down to the river before setting the monstor free. Bingo had never seen George again, but he was sure he had done the right thing.

As he reached the water’s edge with Sassy, Bingo pulled back from his musings. He nodded goodbye to the lass and set out to trap a turtle of his own. Sassy had looked askance at the net he was carrying. It wasn't the best of traps to use, but it would have to do. Back home, his father has crafted floating traps made of a special kind of hollow wood and then lured the turtles in with bait. He did not have one of those. But in a pinch, other things would work almost as well. He leaned over the edge and dropped the net into the shallows, threading a few slivers of chicken onto a hook attached to a line. The line had several other sharp barbs sticking out near the end; these did not have any bait. When the sleepy turtle came up to look and clamped his mouth down on the chicken, he had not only been snared by the original hook, but the other two had each embedded in a leg, making it more difficult for the thrashing creature to reach back and nab Bingo.

Bingo drew the net tight and cut his line, still leaving the hooks in the turtle’s mouth and legs. Then he stuck a stick under the snapper’s nose. The turtle clamped down and refused to let go, which was exactly what Bingo had hoped for. The lad quickly slid a piece of rag over the snapper’s head to keep him from seeing and bundled him out of the water, squalling and kicking, before laying the creature down on the bank and chopping off the head with the help of Sassy's hatchet. After that, he'd removed the hooks and carried the body in the net bag.

He had thanked the lass for her help. For all her youth and wagging tongue, she had shown considerable skill and bravery. Then he'd run back to rejoin the other lads and left Sassy behind. Several of the lads were admiring his catch, which made Bingo puff up with quiet pride. Then, at Sondo's insistence, they had gathered together the last of their belongings and bundled them into the raft as everyone again found their places. Within a short time, they had pushed off from shore and continued their southwesterly path.