Sailing Away RPG

[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.

[Crystal Heart]

Sam wandered over to Sondo and looked around helplessly. He wanted to help, but ever since the boat he felt a little out of place in the group. He knew he was the one that caused it and of course that brought slight anger, at himself of course not others, but it was still there. He didn't want to bring any more undo pain to his fellow journeysmen. He only hoped to help.

He walked over and tapped Sondo on the shoulder, nervous at what he was about to ask. He didn't want to make Sondo any more mad at him.

"Sondo is there anything that I can help with? I would like to be a productive member of the gang instead of destructive one," Sam said as he looked down at his hands. He only wished he had something better say to Sondo.

Since the raft had tipped he couldn't look Sondo in the eye. He wasn't sure exactly why, but that was how he felt. He felt so ashamed of what he had done and never before had he felt that emotion before in his life.

He stood, waiting for Sondo to respond.

[Firefoot]

Sondo raised his eyebrows skeptically. He could not help but take a rather cynical approach to Sam's seemingly heartfelt offer - he had known the other hobbit too long. It seemed that it would take a lot more than a raft tip to change Sam's attitude, but if it was so, Sondo supposed he ought to have dumped Sam in the river a long time ago.

He shrugged in response, though Sam didn't see it because of his steady gaze at his feet. "Listen, Sam," said Sondo. "If this is about the raft, forget about it, okay? It's done with, and everyone's fine." Sam peeked at Sondo's face before returning his sight downward and answering, "I just want to help out."

Sondo took a deep breath. "Well, there's not a whole lot to be done right now. Tonight I suppose you could help cook the turtles that Bingo and Sassy caught earlier, if you want. I'm sure there'll be something you can do."

"I'm not much of a cook," mumbled Sam. "But I'll try, if that's what you think." This amused Sondo somewhat, since Sam was always the one who ate the most, but it also annoyed him that Sam was acting so... servant-like.

"Lighten up, Sam!" exclaimed Sondo. In some ways he found dealing with the grumpy Sam easier than the too-courteous one. "Just do what you can. If all you do is be friendly to everyone, that'll help some. It's an adventure, Sam; you're supposed to have fun!"

"Well, all right," answered Sam, not seeming entirely convinced. Sondo just sighed; some hobbits were beyond his comprehension.

The rest of the afternoon continued mostly without mishap. He had been worried for a few moments when the raft encountered some mini-rapids caused by a few sharp boulders at the bottom of the river and a slight drop in the landscape. The raft weathered the rougher water surprisingly well, and after having some experience earlier at manipulating the raft around rocks, the hobbits were well-prepared to deal with it. The slight increase of speed just before hand was exhilarating, and excitement erased any fear that they might not make it through, which they did without a hitch. Soon after this light started to fade and the lads began to look for a place to stop for the night.

Now that they had the long wooden poles, they did not need to worry about lassoing a tree or oddly-shaped rock which made maneuvering the raft to shore much easier. A likely spot was found in a grassy dell between two steep hills. They unloaded their supplies and started a fire, which was harder than it had been the previous night since this more hilly region was only sparsely wooded. They also tried to avoid using fresh branches because they smoked more. Then they began the cheerful task of cooking turtle stew. After several very similar meals, it seemed a feast. Two lads who were more skilled at recognizing tasty herbs brought back seasoning for the stew while others helped prepare the actual turtles. Sam seemed happy to be actually aiding in the process. Every time Sondo had seen him before, he had appeared to be trying very hard to enjoy himself, a purpose defeating itself in the effort it took. Sassy was fitting in better, now that the lads had gotten used to her presence.

When they finally sat down to enjoy their collaborative project of delicious turtle stew, everyone was tired but jovial. Sondo tried to savor each mouthful but found that his portion of the stew was gone only too quickly. It filled him to the brim, but had more been offered he would have taken it in a heartbeat. The others felt much the same way, resulting in another wash of praise for Bingo's, and more reluctantly, Sassy's, catches. When they finally settled down for the night, Sondo's last musings were of how thoroughly pleased he was with the way all had gone throughout the day and hopes for many more days like it. Little did he know, all was about to change.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Bingo pulled the blanket over his head and rolled onto his stomach, vainly trying to screen out the sunlight and catch a few more minutes of rest. He had slept fitfully the night before. For several hours, he had flipped from side to side unable to sleep, listening to the incessant hooting of a nearby screech owl and trying to wriggle free of a twisted tree root that kept poking up from underneath his mat and jabbing him in the back. He had even tried moving to another spot, one that was closer to the other lads. But that had not proven to be helpful. One of the hobbits was snoring so loudly that Bingo had to plug his ears with his fingers until he could finally fall asleep.

Reluctantly, Bingo pried open an eye and sat up, scanning the length of the camp. He was surprized to note that no one else was awake. With a groan, he sprang to his feet. From the look of the horizon and the racket the birds were making in the overhead trees, the morning was already well advanced. It was long past the hour when they should have finished their breakfast, returned to the raft, and resumed their journey down river. Adventuring, Bingo reflected, was not always as easy as it sounded in the old tales. There, no one ever overslept!

Bingo scrambled over to where his brother was sleeping and jabbed him in the ribs, "Wake up, Reggie! We've overslept."

Then he started hollering and yelling to wake up the others, all the while ruefully thinking that this was not a very auspicious omen for the third day of their trip.

[Primrose Bolger]

Sassy was having the most delicious dream. It was evening, just last evening to be exact, and everyone was sitting around the little fire eating the turtle soup. The soup itself was delicious. But even better was that one of the boys had made room for her to sit in the circle around the campfire. And she had told a joke some of her friends had going round and the boys had laughed. Quite pleased with herself, Sassy rolled over, hoping the dream would go a little further.

Instead a loud voice intruded on her. ‘Wake up! We’ve overslept!’

She scrambled out of her bedroll and stood up to see the source of the noise. It was Bingo! Sassy blinked in the already bright sunshine and hurried to gather her things together. She tucked her shirt into her breeches and pushed back her messy curls – a comb or brush had not been on her list of essential items.

Once her pack and blanket was stowed on the raft, she ran back to the boys’ part of the camp to see how she could help. A burlap bag of apples had been left out and she took one to munch on. She passed it round as the boys gathered their belongings and began loading them on the raft.

From the looks of things, she thought, it might be all the breakfast they got.

[Encaitare]

"Wake up, Reggie! We've overslept."

From his little realm of total safety and comfort, Reggie wished his brother would shut up and let him sleep just a bit longer. He meant to tell him so, too, but didn't really feel like spending the energy on something that was likely to make Bingo angry. Yet he moved plenty quickly when Bingo began poking him in the side.

"All right, alright, Aunt Hilda. I'm getting up!" Reggie grumbled good-naturedly. Bingo went to go rouse the others, shaking his head slightly at the younger hobbit. Reggie smoothed his rumpled clothes, and then shook out and rolled up his blanket, wondering what was for breakfast. Apples, as it would seem -- hardly a hearty meal, but a tasty one all the same. He crunched into a tart, juicy apple as he helped the others load everything back onto the raft.

When everything was tied down or balanced to their satisfaction, Sondo declared that they could be off. Rory and Marroc pushed the raft off the bank with two long poles, and soon they were moving at a fair speed. Reggie laid down on his stomach, careful not to upset the raft's balance. There was no need to repeat their previous capsizing. He peered over the edge into the water, watching silver-scaled fish of all sizes swimming beneath the surface. The water at the raft's edges swirled vigorously. The river had risen a little, Bingo had told him, and that was why they had been moving faster yesterday. Reggie had thought it had been quite exciting, even better than the swing he and his cousins played on. You could fly through the air upon it, and feel the wind rushing past your face. It made him a little dizzy sometimes, but he didn't mind it. But the feeling on the raft was even more fun. There was no rope to hold you to one place if you didn't want it, and there was no Aunt Hilda to tell you when to stop playing and come inside. Instead there were adventures, and friends, and freedom.

[Boromir88]

Rory slipped off into a dreamless slumber. It wasn't long until he felt someone shaking him. "Wake up! We overslept!" Rory stirred, licked his lips, and turned over. "Wake up! Wake up! We got to go!" Rory still didn't wake. Soon Rory felt a splash of cool water down his back. He jumped up, clearly awake now. Rory saw it was Bingo.

"Jeez, not only are you a snorer, but hard to wake up!" he said half friendly, half irritably.

"I snore?" Rory looked puzzled.

"Yes! It was practically all night. Get something to eat, and eat it fast so we can get going."

Rory didn't respond, he just walked towards the food. He still wasn't totally awake yet. If Rory was snoring that ment he was in a deep sleep, and very hard to get up. His mother would always send his younger brothers to wake him, and would let them use any means at their disposal.

He didn't have time to sit and eat. Mostly everyone was done with their apple, or nearly done. Sondo shouted over to Rory, "Since you were the last one up, you can go get the raft ready. We are leaving soon." Rory grumbled, but thought it was only fair. "Well," he said talking to his apple, "I guess you'll just have to wait." He jammed it into his pockets. Marroc came by and gave Rory a hand, and Rory thanked him. Soon they were off again...Rory hoped it wasn't as boring as yesterday.

[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...

[Nurumaiel]

Was it any surprise that more misfortunes were upon them? No, it was not, Falco thought decidedly. First the raft had tipped, and now they were caught in a storm. Sondo wasn't a capable leader. He didn't care if the storm had come with Sondo's bidding. Sondo was the leader, and he was responsible. How would he feel if they all drowned? Would he like it if he drowned, if he died, and it were all his fault?

What if I became leader?

Falco started as the thought came to him, and cast a guilty look about him. Of course nobody could read his thoughts! Why should it bother him to think of it? He was always taking up leadership when Sondo failed back home. Perhaps this was different because they were on the water. Wouldn't that be mutiny?

It wouldn't be mutiny if he let Sondo stay leader, would it? What if he just formed his own expedition? The boys could go with him if they wanted, or, if they were foolish, they could go with Sondo.

But... what if that was mutiny, too?

At any rate, it was interesting to think about.

[Primrose Bolger]

Sassy accepted the piece of fruit and a strip of the dried meat in silence. She nodded her head at the boy who handed them to her, keeping her hood pulled well forward so that he could not see her face. Despite the chill of the day, her cheeks were blazing . . . and not from the briskness of the wind and rain. She was embarrassed; mortified that she’d gotten them into such a pickle! They were being hurtled down the river, and who knew when they would be able to maneuver toward the shore. Sassy hoped fervently both the raft and all of them wouldn’t be too banged up in the process.

‘You little wormbrain,’ she chided herself. ‘Maybe they should have left you to slip under the waves!’ Sassy chewed angrily on her meat stick as she sat huddled with the others in the middle of the raft. One hand held the raggedy, bitten piece of meat while the other held on for dear life to the rope. And that was another thing . . . Sassy loved the water, and was really quite a good swimmer. But, the fierceness of the river’s current really had frightened her when she’d almost slid into it. It had dragged at her toes, like some old boggart her Gammer had told stories about . . .the kind that liked to pull little children who wouldn’t stay in their beds into the darkness beneath and eat them boiled and mashed.

Sassy shuddered for a moment beneath her cloak, then clamped down on those sort of thoughts. She looked slyly about hoping no one had seen her acting scared. She couldn’t show she was frightened . . . boys didn’t, and well . . . she didn’t want to be laughed at. She had to be just as tough as they were.

She’d just wanted to help Bingo who had been nice to her and let her go along on the turtle hunt. She scooted carefully near him, pulling her pack off her shoulders as she reached the boy. Sassy fished in her pack, way down to the bottom, til she found the little tin she’d brought. Cook would skin her when she figured out who’d filched the candies from the cupboard.

‘Umm . . . Bingo?’ she said hesitatingly, trying to catch his attention. She opened the little tin. The candies were a little stuck together from being out in the wet weather, but she held them out toward him. ‘My Gammer makes these peppermint drops for us for sweets. She says they’re good for tummies, too. Settles ‘em right down. You want one?’ She made a little gesture as if offering them about for general use.

A little ways away from her sat that boy, Falco - the one that had cornered her brother when they first found her stowed away on the raft. From the corner of her eye she thought she saw a brief look of guilt cross his face. Wonder what he's thinking! she thought to herself, eyeing him for a moment, her forehead wrinkling briefly.

************************************

Child of the 7th Age's post for Bingo

Bingo warily eyed the small tin of peppermints that Sassy was holding out in her hand. He could feel the hot stares of several of the lads, who peered at him in an offhand way, not saying a word but watching surreptitiously to see what he would do. The raft had settled down a little, and his stomach was feeling considerably better. A peppermint would be just the thing to set things back to rights again. Bingo had a bit of a sweet tooth, which he rarely had the chance to indulge. The peppermints looked awfully tempting, and Sassy somehow seemed less of a nuisance than she had done before.

Leaning over to the lass, he grinned, "Don't mind if I do....", and then reached his hand inside the box being careful to fish out only one. For one minute, he thought he heard a snicker from the back of the raft. But when Bingo shot his head around and glared, the sound immediately died. And within a few minutes, the raft had encountered a much wilder stretch of the river, and all thoughts of further investigation immediately died. Bingo hung onto the mast for dear life, hoping that the worst of the journey was behind them.

[Firefoot]

Sondo lifted his head hopefully when he realized that the time between the flashes of lightning and cracks of thunder were becoming long indeed. Was the rain falling lighter, too, or was it just his imagination? Perhaps the wind was less cutting now. And maybe, that was a glimpse of sunlight through the clouds. Certainly, it was still raining and the river was rough yet, but Sondo was fairly sure the storm was over. They had made it through!

The others seemed to be perking up as they realized the same thing. Granted, they were still stranded on a raft with no decent means to get to shore, but the storm was over; surely everything would be better now. It wasn’t to say that anyone was particularly cheerful (they weren’t) for they were largely still cold, wet, and miserable, but there was a palpable mood of relief in the air.

Gripping the mast tightly for support, Sondo stood up. He wanted to get a better idea of the lay of the land than he could get sitting down. His stance on the rolling raft was shaky, but he did not show it. He stood straight, straining his eyes through the gray rain. Even drenching wet and shivering slightly from the chill, he looked every inch the leader. It was still his adventure, and his infallible optimism would not be suppressed now that the worst of it was over. Seeing him up, some of the hobbits began to move around as well, as much simply to stretch as anything else.

“Hey, there’re some more rapids coming up,” announced Sondo to everyone and no one. “Let’s see if we can get the raft over to the right side of the river more... it doesn’t look so bad over there.” Some raised their eyebrows at him, but it was Rory who asked the unspoken question: “How? Our poles and rope are gone.”

Sondo shrugged impatiently. “Well, what if we used our arms and legs to paddle over there?” No one seemed overly thrilled about getting even more wet than they already were. Seeing this, Sondo was the first to sit down on the edge and put his legs in the (cold) water. He was joined rather reluctantly, some on one side and some on the other to balance the raft.

“Now, paddle!” said Sondo. He kicked his own legs hard, and the joint effort seemed to work, at least a little bit. It did not occur to Sondo that if it hadn’t worked then they would all have been sitting at the edge of the raft while it went over the rapids and they all would have ended up going for a swim. Luckily it did work well enough, and as they drew near the rapids most instinctively withdrew their limbs in preference for the security of the middle of the raft, and the rest followed suit. It was a bit rough, but Sondo had been proven right; the right side was more sedate, and compared to some of the rapids earlier in the day the ride was fairly smooth. There was a quiet satisfaction that had not been fully disabled by the loss of steering equipment. To Sondo, it seemed that even if the hobbits weren’t as jovial as the previous day, their earlier gripes had been forgotten, even though this was not actually true.

The sun was setting and the hobbits were getting hungry again by the time anyone realized the full impact of what it was that they had accomplished earlier: they had steered the raft! They could get to shore, have a hot dinner, and get warm and dry before a fire! Someone voiced this realization jubilantly, and a bit of a cheer went up. Those who had been observant had already noticed the dark clouds which were threatening to let loose a downpour over again, and were the most relieved at this prospect. Heartened by the thought of warmth and comfort, the hobbits began to take their positions on the edge of the raft when someone cried out: “Wait!”

In their new hope, they had ceased to pay any attention to the river. Looming just ahead was another set of rapids, and they could not be all sitting on the edge going over those! So impatiently they set out to wait. Before they had even reached them, however, the storm broke loose once more. A crack of thunder came from directly overhead, and drops came fast and furious. The hobbits were nearly unprepared upon hitting the rapids, and many lost their footing, though luckily none fell overboard.

The griping that Sondo thought had been forgotten quickly returned now. No one wanted to go so close to the edge now that the waves were all but ready to come and turn the raft over! They once again had no means to get to shore, and had no way to see now that the sun had set, leaving them in utter, rainy darkness. Much of this complaining turned against Sondo, and though he tried his hardest to assuage it, he was completely unsuccessful, mostly because he was unconvinced himself. What would they do now? They had never sailed at night before, for obvious reasons. Now it was night and storming! He then felt as much as heard a rock scrape against the bottom of the raft. He could feel an alarming wave of dread rush through him, like when he reached the top limb of a tree and had no idea how to get down or was caught in the act of steeling some mushrooms and knew his Pa was going to give him a thrashing. Only this was worse. Much worse.

Everyone was jolted from their feet when the raft ran headlong into an unseen rock. Then everything seemed to be going in slow motion. A shout that he knew he should recognize was heard, and Sondo knew that someone had gone overboard. There was no time to react, though, before he heard a crash and felt the raft tipping. He was suddenly airborne, and had no way of knowing where he would land. He could hit a rock. All around there were shouts, and there was splashing all around. Then he himself felt himself submerge. He gasped; water filled his mouth. Where was the surface? It was dark - which way was up? He could not see and could not breathe. Under water was blended with above water in the pouring rain. Then, for an instant, lightning flashed and he swam upward. A thought came unbidden: no one swam in a thunderstorm - it was dangerous. He had to get to shore, but his limbs seemed heavy. He felt himself go under again, and his foot hit the bottom. He pushed off, trying to get back to the surface. How deep was the Brandywine anyway? He began to panic. He was going to drown! He thrashed his arms and legs, losing his head and forgetting what he did know about swimming in his panic. Where was everyone? Where was Sassy? She was, after all, his sister, and he felt an overwhelming need to save her as well as himself. Having a purpose calmed him some, but he still couldn’t see. What was happening?

[Child of the 7th Age]

By the end of the afternoon, Bingo was feeling considerably better. His stomach was calm, and he had regained his strength and spirits. The hobbits had even managed to work together to get through several hard stretches of the river. Bingo was relatively optomistic that they would soon find a way to maneuver the craft towards shore and settle down for food and rest before darkness fell.

However rejuvenated Bingo may have felt, his expectations soon met with a very different outcome. In the space of only a few moments, dark shadows and rain had descended like a grey iron curtain over the river, shutting out all the light and making it impossible to see. At the last moment, they had gone hurtling forward towards a huge, submerged rock, which had only a few inches of its surface visible above the water. No one on the raft, not even Sondo, had seen it.

Bingo heard a sickening noise as wood met rock. The front of the raft tilted crazily upward and then came smashing down on top of the jagged stone. Several of the logs snapped in two. It seemed as if their mighty raft was no more than a toy boat that a child might take out to play. Under the weight of the collision, one side of the raft dipped omenously low and began to sink. Water rushed in, sending luggage and supplies and all of the hobbits hurling into the water.

Everything happened so fast that Bingo had no time to prepare or be afraid. It was almost as if he was in a dream....only this time he could not wake up, no matter how hard he tried. He felt his body smack the water. It was cold, far too cold. Bingo tried to move his hands and legs to swim but they refused to obey him. He took in a mouthful of water and began to choke and gag, feeling an insistent tugging on his leg. Something was beginning to pull him down. Looking desperately around for a way to save himself, he spied a long tree branch hurtling down stream, apparently caught in a faster current in the very middle of the river. With a final gasp, he lunged forward, forced himself to grab onto the makeshift lifeboat and held on desperately as he was carried along. Looking back, he saw that his companions were still desperately floundering near the spot where the raft had capsized. They were screaming and yelling for help.

As the current slung him forward, Bingo hastily glanced back over his shoulder scanning the horizon for a glimpse of his brother. But, with the heavy grey shadows and dark moonless night, all the hobbits looked like tiny dots: it was impossible to tell one from another. The current was still too strong for Bingo to let go, even though he wanted to turn back to help. Still clinging to the branch, he made his way around a bend in the river, hanging on by the barest edge of his fingernails. All signs of the original raft and the rest of the hobbits were now totally hidden from his view.

I've got to get out of here. I must go back and find my brother. If something happens, it's all my fault. I should never have let him come. But, however desperately Bingo may have wanted to do that, he had no choice now but to continue hurling forward, trapped on his makeshift craft.

[Firefoot]

Sondo froze in the act of obligingly returning Sassy’s hug. He could feel his ears heat. He had been relieved to see her, if not so thrilled as she, but now the sentiment was buried deep in the recesses of his mind. That despicable nickname!

“Indeed,” answered Sondo sardonically. The sarcasm was lost on the elated Sassy, however. Why, oh, why, oh, why! Why could she not have been stranded on the other bank? Was she really so traumatized by the event? It had been several years since Sassy had last used the horrid nickname, and even more than that since he had endured it with good humor. Why now? And in front of his friends, no less! He knew they had heard; it was evident from their expressions. His icy glare met the eyes of each hobbit, daring them to say something or laugh out loud (or in Rory’s case, to continue laughing). Most averted their eyes and Rory stopped laughing, though many were unable to fully wipe the traces of amusement off their faces - but not Falco. A slow smile spread across his lips. Sondo set his jaw and raised his chin slightly. Then he very deliberately turned his attention back to Sassy. Falco, apparently unaffected, continued about his own business.

Sondo gently removed her arms from around his waist. She looked up at his face with a smile. He did not match it; rather, his brown eyes, usually full of fun, looked down at her with a gaze hard as steel. “Just what do you think you’re doing, Sassafras Brandybuck?” he asked, so lowly that none save Sassy could hear him. It was enough, and without another word he stepped around her so that she was no longer in front of him but to the side and slightly behind him.

Sondo looked about him. Somehow every single one of the hobbits had managed to reunite, looking rather rumpled, hungry, and perhaps tired but none the worse for wear, really. It was time to move on. He had not previously considered their next path, but he had to decide now. They were without supplies and lost, outside the Shire. He wondered how they had all landed on the eastern bank - the wrong bank! He had never looked very closely at a map, and certainly not one that showed more than the Shire, and he had no idea where they might be. Somewhere north of Sarn Ford, he thought, but how far? It could be one mile or forty! If they were close, that would prove the best plan of action, but barring that knowledge the only sensible path would be to start heading north, back home. He wondered how long it would take to get back. Not too long, he hoped.

Sondo opened his mouth to speak, and then stopped. Would they still listen to him? Could they still respect him as leader - Leader Bunnymuggins who had crashed the raft? What if they decided a new leader was in order? They wouldn’t do that, he assured himself, and without pausing to think on the matter further, he did speak up.

“Hey, everyone,” he said. They looked up - at least they were listening. “Obviously, we don’t have a raft anymore, or any of the supplies on it. At least we have only been out here three days - we shouldn’t have such a long path home. As for food, well, we’ll have to find something as we go. We can probably catch some small game, and maybe we’ll be able to find some early fruits. I figure that if we follow the river north, we’ll be home before too long.” There were sighs and groans, but mostly they followed his logic, and there were nods too. Heartened, Sondo said, “We should probably get going, then.” He began to start off, and hobbits followed, but he stopped abruptly at a voice behind him.

“Hey, Sondo?” He could practically hear the “Bunnymuggins.” “Are you sure you’ve covered all your options?” It was Falco. Sondo was in no mood to be contested.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” snapped Sondo.

[Nurumaiel]

"Well, to be blunt," said Falco, with no hint of apology in his voice for being so, "I think it's rather rotten to give up like this. Most of us had a lot of trouble getting away from our families... at least, I know I did, and I had to sacrifice to do it." He thought of the apple pie. "I think it's a downright shame that we should have to go home, where I know there'll be a licking for me when my father finds out, and not have done anything... except nearly drown."

Sondo opened his mouth to speak, but Falco went on.

"It's my idea that we should head along towards Sarn Ford," he said. "It shouldn't take us dreadfully long to get there, and we can attempt to get enough supplies to equip us for the trip home... because, you know, Sondo, I for one am not going home to punishment when I haven't even had my fun yet.

"And I'm not trying to say that you're not capable of leading us," he added, his tone conveying doubt that he actually meant it, "but I think you have this all wrong."

[Firefoot]

Sondo glared at Falco. Had he been a dog, his hackles would have been up and his teeth bared. As it was, he drew himself up, trying to maintain any sense of command that he ever had. It was one thing for Falco to disclose his concerns privately, but this! Who was he to say such things?

Sondo made a sarcastic show of considering Falco's idea. "Okay, let's say we do head south. Do you know when we would reach Sarn Ford? It could be five miles or fifty for all we know. Saying it's fairly close and we make it there. You say we can get supplies. How? Steal them? I don't have any money, and I doubt anyone does anymore. And what happens if we head south and don't come upon Sarn Ford?" Falco remained silent, but had a stubborn look on his face. "Then what?" Sondo pressed, but did not wait for an answer. "At least if we head north, we know that we will be heading home. Even with the current being what it is, we were only sailing for three days - and those not even full days. It shouldn't take us terribly long to get home.

"Honestly, Falco, do you think I want to go home now? If we could have our raft back and some supplies, don't you think I would be on it in a heartbeat? But we don't. If there were any chance of going on, don't you think I would take it? But heading south, we go farther and farther from familiar lands. We have no supplies left, and unless you have some proposed way to go on without food, blankets, rope, and everything else that was on that raft, I see no logical alternatives. I don't know about you, but I heard wolves last night. As long as we are not sailing the river, we are much more vulnerable. It's too risky to try and head south.

"And who knows?" he added more softly, wistfully. "Maybe there's still an adventure waiting out there for us. Maybe this will even be more of an adventure, now that we have nothing but our wits to use." His voice hardened again, taking on the firm, comfortable tone of command. "We have nothing but ourselves to depend on now. You are either with us or against us, Falco. We head north."

[Primrose Bolger]

Sassy’s heart fell to her toes when she realized what she’d said. It had felt so good to see Sondo that all remembrances of her two old promises to him had completely fled her memory.

Never hug him in public.

Never . . . never call him Bunnymuggins!

Thorns and nettles! she muttered to herself. It was going to be harder than ever now to get on the good side of her brother.

Even worse, the boys were making fun of him, either with outright laughing or sneaking little snickers. And that Falco! What a mean one he was proving to be. He was yapping on about how Sondo was wrong. And not only wrong but a bad leader to boot. It was all Sassy could do to keep herself from punching him in the belly. She had just enough restraint to know that Sondo would be in an even worse position if she did that.

She screwed up her grimy little face and glared at Falco. He says one more bad thing to my brother she swore silently to herself and I’ll fix him good . . . real good . . .

Sassy worked up a good sized gobbet though her mouth was quite dry, and spit on the dirt at her feet . . . sealing her little vow.

[Nurumaiel]

Oh, so this was how Sondo took his advice, was it? With hard, cold, unfriendly words. Falco had struggled to the point of exhaustion to give advice in a manner that was firm yet preserving of friendliness. Sondo had... had... had... and those last words of his. For them or against them? Sondo sounded more like a mutineer than Falco had ever even considered sounding.

Falco flung back his head and looked Sondo squarely in the eye. "If you put it that way, Sondo," he said, in regular tones but with a glint in his eye, "then I'll tell you that I'm against you. Not against the company, but against you, and you alone. I've no doubt that they have some sense in their heads yet, and the water has dimmed their brains too much." These harsh words, rather than diminish his anger, increased it, and he went on in a more fiery tone.

"You're accustomed to being the leader, Sondo Brandybuck, and I generally follow you because you're sensible. But when you go into an absurdity like this, the absurdity of going home to get whipped and beaten and sent into disgrace for weeks, I lose all patience... and all respect, as well. I won't follow a leader who can't lead. And you, Sondo Brandybuck, can't lead."

He straightened himself up, and glowered into Sondo's eyes for a few moments. "Now I've had my say, and I've given you my honest opinion of your decisions and of you. I'm going south now, because as it so happens I know just how to get supplies without stooping to steal. You might steal, because you're plans always go wrong, but I won't, because mine always go right." He turned abruptly then, and began to walk south, his back defiantly turned to Sondo.

He had not gone a few yards, however, before he turned again and, with scorn and contempt and mockery lashing in his voice, he added: "Wolves my foot!"