[Firefoot]

For a moment a flash of lightning lit everyone’s features. All of them were afraid to a greater or lesser extent, whether they chose to show it or not. Sailing in conditions like these was dangerous, if not downright stupid, whatever Rory might say. Truth be told, he had been about to agree to stopping before events had gone all chaotic on him, but no one had really been listening to anyone but themselves and he had lost his chance. He blamed himself, mostly, and made it his goal to see everyone through. They needed to get the raft to shore if they could. Frankly, Sondo wasn’t sure if it would be possible, with only one pole left - they could very well drown either way.

“Listen, Sassy,” he said softly, but fiercely. “Go to the center of the raft, and hold tight to something: a rope, the mast, anything, and don’t get in anyone’s way. Try to make sure the supplies don’t come loose. You’re too little to be handling the poles, and I don’t want you causing any more trouble. Got that?” He didn't wait to see if she obeyed; she was already going to be hearing it from him later. First she goes off and tries to steer the raft on her own, as if she were leader and not him, and then she loses all of their poles. He quickly took stock of the situation: some were trying to get the raft back under control, except they were working independently rather than together, and a few seemed frozen, unsure of what to do except stay on board. Sondo began to issue orders in an attempt to get everything under control.

“Reggie, take some rope and try to use that to bring us to shore. Two of you pair up on the remaining pole. Everyone else, watch for rapids and don't fall overboard. We need to work together, everyone!” Sondo found that he had some avid supporters in trying to get to shore. Those who couldn’t swim, and also Bingo who was still looking rather green around the edges. Rory reluctantly pitched in when he found the vote had seemed to sway against him. Sondo found himself working a pole with Falco. He was glad they were paired up - the wet poles were very slippery and the crashing river was treacherous. It was easy to see how Sassy, inexperienced at using the poles, had lost one.

Reggie cast out his rope a few times at large rocks or the singular trees that grew along the banks, but as a combination of ripping wind, pouring rain, and bucking waves, made several attempts without snagging anything. Finally, he called out, “I got it!” They dug in their poles, trying to curb the path of the raft. The current was too strong, however, and at that precise moment they happened upon a sequence of rapids. Sondo could tell Reggie was straining hard, and left Falco with the pole to go help. Their combined effort at the rope seemed beneficial, until with a loud snap and a sudden rush of movement, the rope snapped. They were all knocked off balance and ended up sprawling on the raft. The remaining pole was dropped into the water, though by some lucky chance none of the hobbits fell overboard. For a moment, Sondo thought the raft would tip with all of them crashing down upon it, and indeed it was already careening wildly, but the weight was evenly enough balanced that only a thin sheen of water sliced across the upside of the raft, not making much of a difference since everyone was already soaked through despite their cloaks.

Sondo had no idea what to do next. The rope which had snapped was the only rope long enough to bring the raft to shore, and they had no poles left. In a brief flash of lightning Sondo thought he caught a look of grim satisfaction on Rory’s face that he had been right, but the other hobbit didn’t say anything. By now, Bingo was not the only one looking sick as a result of the pitching river. Sondo felt queasy too, but not because of seasickness. He was scared for his life. If the other hobbits hadn’t realized it yet, they probably would soon, but Sondo feared that they might all drown. A dip in the river brought Sondo down to his knees, and he realized that standing was not a good idea.

“Everyone sit down near the center of the raft!” said Sondo. He had to yell to be heard over the noise of the storm. “We need to stay balanced. Also, grab hold of part of this rope.” (It was the end of the one which had snapped; the other end was still tied to the mast.) “No one is going to drown here! A storm like this can’t last long, and there’s nothing we can do.” The words sounded dark and ominous, but every hobbit there knew they were true. There was an air of finality to them, and for a while no one spoke. After a short while, the rumbling stomachs of those who were not sick were remembered, and the lad closest to the supplies finagled some fruit and meat out and passed the food around. It was difficult to eat on the pitching raft when the hobbits were periodically tossed about, and the effort was soon given up by most, figuring the storm would blow over soon.

Sondo was miserable. What had happened to his glorious adventure? Why didn’t the old stories ever talk about miserable weather conditions and grumbling comrades? A crack of thunder emphasized his brooding thoughts. There’s nothing we can do...