[Encaitare]

The water was cold and swift, and as he struggled to stay above the surface of the water, Reggie couldn't help thinking, Haven't I done this before? This was the second time they had all been thrown into the river, but this time it was darker and far more dangerous. The current pulled at him, as if whispering to him.

Come down here, it's so nice down here, you'll see....

He kicked his feet as best he could to counter the water's pull and tried to get a proper breath of air. He spluttered a bit as he got half a mouthful of riverwater. Moving his limbs as quickly as they would go (not terribly quickly, since the chill water was already taking its toll on him), he managed to stay afloat. In a moment of horror, he realized he was heading towards a large rock, which jutted out like a monolith in the broken surface of the river.

It was too late to do anything about it. He was able to turn so that his back hit the rock and not his face, but he still slammed into the hard stone. Yet it was a blessing unlooked for; he grabbed at the rock with stiff hands and held on for dear life as the angry river churned about him. His breath was knocked out of him by the collision, but he slowly recovered it and looked about for the first time since the crash.

None of the others were visible; Reggie fearfully wondered if they were alright. If Bingo was safe somewhere...

He realized that he had to use his head and get out of the river. He shifted his weight and moved so that he was closer to the bank. The shadow of the dry ground looked wonderfully alluring. Taking a deep breath just in case, he pushed off the rock with his feet and shot towards the bank, dragged a little bit more downstream but mostly in the right direction. He grabbed the protruding root of an old tree and pulled himself to shore.

There he lay for several minutes, catching his breath and staring blankly up at the cloudy sky between the shadows of the boughs of the trees and ignoring the fat raindrops which pelted him. It felt so good to be on solid ground, where nothing was going to pull him in any direction other than the one he chose.

After regaining his strength, Reggie rather unsteadily got to his feet. He was not sure at all which direction to head, but upstream seemed logical. So, he took a few wobbly steps forth, which soon enough grew surer. Every so often, he glaced resentfully towards the river. Once, he thought he saw a jagged-edged piece of wood go floating by, a remnant of their poor raft. All their supplies were gone, he realized, except for what little was in their pockets. Yet right now all he wanted was to find someone else. The woods were dangerous, Aunt Hilda had always told him, and although he often disregarded her warnings, this was one which he was now willing to believe. The sound of the rushing water drowned out many other sounds; what if some animal or villain was trying to sneak up on his? He would never know it until it was too late.

He looked about him anxiously, but was only greeted by darkness. An owl hooted suddenly, giving him quite a start. He sighed as he recognized the sound. Oh, come on, Reggie. It's only an owl. Pull yourself together, or you'll never find the others. He shook his head, flinging little droplets of water into the air, and continued.

Although he went for what seemed to him to be a very long way upstream, he could not find anyone. He shuffled tiredly through the underbrush, no longer concerned about making noise. Let the dangerous creatures of the wood find him. He was too exhausted to do anything about it. Just as he was about to fall down and curl up into a ball among the leaves, he heard a voice. It was soft and frightened, but a voice nonetheless.

"Who goes there?"

Reggie was about to answer, but his voice stuck in his throat. The voice came again, this time more bold.

"I said, who goes there? Show yourself!"

Reggie took a step forward, about to answer for a second time, when suddenly a shape came rushing at him. Something silver glinted in the dim light. He had enough good sense to get out of the way, his sense of self-preservation prevailing over his fear. He noted vaguely that the shape was hobbit-sized, and then it dawned on him.

"It's me! It's Reggie!" he proclaimed to the woods and to the mysterious person, before the latter could prepare for another go at him.

"Reggie?" the person said hopefully. "I didn't realize it was you! It's Rory!"

He was flooded with relief. His luck seemed to be improving. "Do you know where any of the others are?"

"No," said Rory, putting his short sword away. "I couldn't find them, and I fell asleep for a while." Now the other hobbit's voice seemed quite familiar; Reggie figured that it must have been fright that had kept him from recognizing it.

"Oh," Reggie said dully, the word 'asleep' beckoning him to do the same. "Well, I'm glad to have found someone." His mind became hazy with his fatigue; he had to give himself a good mental shake to return to the real world and not that of dreams. "What do you think we ought to do?" he asked at last.

Rory shrugged, nothing more to Reggie's eyes than a quick raising of shadowy shoulders. "I don't know that there's anything we can do right now. Just wait until morning, I guess."

"I just want to go to sleep," said Reggie, plopping on the ground under the partial shelter of a tree.

Rory chose a nearby tree for himself. "I think I'll keep watch," he said. "There are supposed to be ruffians in these woods."

"Wake me up later and I'll watch too." With that, Reggie finally slipped off into thankfully dreamless sleep.