The quiet, autumn sun rose over Hobbiton, piercing the low clouds and burning them off. The warm light entered through nooks in the window curtains, crept into their rooms, waking the inhabitants of Bag End. They rose early and after another large breakfast they traveled separate ways. Saradoc attended more business outlined as assigned by the Master of Buckland, visiting folk in Bywater. Upon clearing the kitchen (dishes and such were left for tending in the morning from the night before) Frodo and his young cousin Merry ventured on foot to Bywater to visit Fredegar Bolger, whose family rode in to for a short stay at the Green Dragon Inn. And finally, his home at peace, Bilbo shut the door to his study and secluded himself.
The gables of the Green Dragon Inn peered over the rise as Frodo and Merry traveled up the hill. Each step taken revealed more details of the inn: the newly whitewashed siding crisp against the green-framed windows. In a few more strides it appeared whole, just as they remembered it, standing on the westering bend of Hobbiton Road. They could see Fredegar squatting on the steps of the inn looking rather miserable.
"Come now, Fatty," Frodo now stood over him and poked is round belly. "You'll have a meal again soon," he chuckled.
"It's not that. Though by you mentioning it, I am hungry again." He shook his head and returned to the memory of his long face, "It's Essie," he pointed to the lass behind him. "Sorry. I'm on orders to bring her."
Insulted Merry protested flapping his arms about, "This afternoon is scheduled for careless roguery and mischief. Explain how we are to attend to that with a girl to look after."
"We can out run her in the forest?" Fredegar offered.
"Fatty!" Exclaimed Frodo. "Essie will just have to tag along. We're not going to leave her alone in the woodlands. Your father would string us up from our heels and leave us out to rot should any ill happen to her," Frodo advised. The young lass smiled brightly at Frodo as she pulled the ribbons from her hair.
But the ribbons didn't fool anyone. Naturally, her wardrobe consisted of traditional hobbit-lass fashions, dresses with bows and bonnets for the spring months; however, her fancy was in behaving boyishly. Rosamunda her mother, often beside herself with worry, would find Essie racing home dirtier and muddier than her older brother with her curls gathered into a knot and the ribbons stuffed in her pockets. On occasion Essie was caught prancing around in Fatty's britches, big enough around the waist that the suspenders failed in keeping them on her hips. One time they slipped down to her ankles. Her mother covered her gasping mouth while her father, Odovacar, fainted at the sight. "We should've had two boys," her parents often repeated. It rivaled only to another favorite anecdote: "There's more Took in you than lass."
"Fine, you can come," Fredegar turned looking discontented. "But don't you get in our way!" He warned with a mean finger.
Content she shadowed the three lads mimicking their leaps and bounds three steps behind so as not to infringe on the clearly defined boy-space. Neither Fatty or Merry noticed her or cared, but Frodo would glance now and again keeping his eye out for her.
Further up Hobbiton Road another bend guided them to a stretch lacing Bywater Pool. The brownish water turned bluer in the deepened middle then brown again as it shallowed through a bottleneck flow and down-streamed eastward to a creek emptying into the Brandywine River. A row of quaint smials, tidy and neat, enjoyed view of the Pool. One of the proud dwellers went so far as to build a dock that stretched mid-pool for visitors who wished to sit and hang their weary feet into the water.
First sight of the dock someone yelled to race from the road to the end of it. The dare called from Merry's lips who was closer to the intended finish line and suspiciously led the pack at the start. Speeding with an overconfident grin he soon lost his lead as the eldest hobbit lad and so far the fastest overtook the quick starter with three strides. Frodo peered over his shoulder; Fatty already halted, bent over catching his breath either from the shroud of dust kicked up or from the sudden spring of exercise, the latter more likely. At side-glance he saw Merry frowning yet determined to avert second place, however, little did Merry realize at the time he would need to settle for third. Essie closed in and easily passed. She concentrated in securing the lead -- her fast little feet just on top of Frodo's heels. The jogging image beside him became a worrisome distraction and he hastened his arms to crank faster. Essie's pace matched Frodo's and with little effort it seemed, soon he couldn't tell who was in front of who. An unexpected weariness overcame Frodo's limbs, soon a dullness laid over the ache in his legs. The end was nearing and Essie, breathing normally, was equal to his side. His throat wore raw gasping for breaths and the pounds of his heart felt it would beat through his chest. In the next stride the winner prevailed and close to a tie it nearly was, but in the end Essie bested all three.
***
By the time Fatty dawdled to the dock end Merry and Frodo had their breath caught and were cooling their feet in the Pool. No one mentioned the race outcome. They all knew and Essie smiled only to herself. When Merry wasn't looking Frodo nodded to Essie in acknowledgement, half-smiled then turned away. Merry, making it very clear a lass was not welcome in their club urged the lads to sit closest together with their backs to Essie who benched herself on the opposite side.
The forsaken distinction didn't discourage the lass. Content alone just to be around boys she blended in to the background and listened to what boys say when only boys were around. Evidently they mocked one another and others not present at no mercy, but apparently it was all in good fun. They started with Fatty's rounder than most belly and quipped at Merry's ferocious appetite, that he could swallow Fatty whole if he had the meaning to.
A sparking gleam drew away her attention: A brilliant flicker of green dancing on a small current. Behind her, the laughs and guffaws softened to a murmur that seemed far away and faded till she heard them no longer. On closer inspection she realized the tiny treasure was an empty bottle, from the Green Dragon Inn stock of ales. Bobbing just beyond touch it tempted her delights, sparkling like an emerald. She stretched to reach it but could not; she paddled the current to drift towards her but the water refused to yield. Nothing else entered her mind save only to rescue this shining trinket and with every effort concentrating to fulfill her want commonsense left her as well. Stepping her feet on the dock edge she squat, gripped the riser post with her left hand straining her body over the water to reach. Her hand too small to wrap tightly around the riser the hold was poor at best. Progress in capturing the bottle was being made as she brushed it with the very tips of her fingers. Stretching again to grab it her stance faltered and her weight grew heavier towards the water.
Suddenly the lunacy of her antics came to her. What had she got herself into? Or rather, what is she going to get herself into? Deep waters are no place for hobbits to find themselves, almost all have not the skill or bravery to swim. Had she another second for more pitiful remarks she would have instead yelped a cry for help. The grip in her left hand opened and she plunged forward entering the depths of the water with a splash.
Frodo paused. Merry and Fatty heard it too. The three gawked at each other then turned over their shoulders at the repeated splashings soon following the first. The memory of Essie recoiled. Their hardened eyes searched for her but she was no longer sitting on the dock and they jumped quick on their heels. Before a cry escaped him, Fatty slapped both hands over his mouth as he beheld his sister in the Pool desperately fighting to stay afloat. Her head popped below and above water, gasping in a mixture of breath and water. One last effort to save herself from her predicament, she madly flapped her arms, pushing down on the formless matter to lift her head for air. Frodo fell to his stomach, extending his arm to her as far as his balance allowed. The attempt proved futile. Her radical movements pushed her farther from the dock edge and only the top of her curls were now visible. Resolved to jump in to save her, Merry and Frodo threw off their shirts. Fredegar panicked and burst to tears.
Merry took hold of him, "If you have your mind run for help!" He said sternly then pushed him to go.
A second splash and Merry turned to see Frodo swimming. His arms paddled quickly beneath him, pushing down the water to boost his head above the waterline. Frodo closed in extending his open arms. Essie felt a hold around her and not too soon. The water painfully coursed through her. Her nasal passages felt as if she inhaled acid and the grit in the lake water choked her throat. Once again she garnered strength to escape this nightmare. Desperately she clenched Frodo's arm and pawed over him to stay afloat. His shoulders served as a sturdy platform to push down upon but still she didn't rise high enough for a good breath. Despite her efforts she continued sinking, restraining Frodo from precious breath. Her hands groped up to his head, pressuring it down with strained force. Completely submerged without a decent intake of oxygen, Frodo blew out what air he had stored and swallowed the brown waters in exchange. His nose was stinging, filling the tubes with water and draining into his throat and lungs. All his senses were mad with pain. Any struggling on his part faded into a helpless limp and he then faded to a blank.