Frodo's pain was suddenly alleviated. A lulling weight blanketed his body and mind. Submerged within the folds of a peaceful nothingness he lay relaxed and content. Over the surface of his skin coated a numbness like a thick, pleasant layer of wax. Existence was passing and so too were all his cares.
Yet something stirred him and a new pain began to swell. It surged from his bowels and narrowed to his chest. The discomfort suppressed his lung chambers nearly caving them in. Just as the hurt was more than bearable the pressure thinned from his breast and moved up to the throat. The concentrated mass strained a gag reflex; at the same instance his eyes shot open, and through no will of his own his parted lips to gasp a much-needed breath. Life-giving oxygen regurgitated the pain out of his mouth, coughing up volumes of thick brown fluid. Rolling over he expelled more remnants of the Bywater Pool.
The blackness dissipated though at this turn he rather the dark than the white brightness. Sharply the beam of light burned his newly opened eyes. He lied back down. Blinking at the shadows hovering over, the harsh light faded to a cool shade of blue relaxing his eyes. More colors fell into place utilizing his memory and vision, synchronizing their efforts as the familiar came to focus. Staring down on him was a gentle face.
Seated at Frodo's side Merry hunched over him, cradling support to his neck. Merry's brown locks were soaked and the excess water dripped on to Frodo's face. "I had never been so frightened. Hearing you take that breath nearly took mine away," said Merry. A course of tears dribbled from his cheeks.
Frodo blinked again as the interflow of water and tears sprinkled on his face. Slowly he motioned his lips pushing words through them. Bending closer to hear Merry distinguished the feeble whisper, "Essie". Merry turned up the corners of his mouth and helped Frodo turn in Essie's direction. Only a stone's throw away, the cousins beheld the Bolger's reunion. Rosamunda wailed and sobbed to feel the warmth of her daughter's skin pressing against her own. When word of the drowning reached the Green Dragon the fear of Essie's void weighed heavily on her and hardly had she strength to move. Fatty cried the hardest wrapping his arms tightly around her and reminded in interludes to spare Essie more breathing room. The edification of his sister's worth was more apparent than ever. The sight touched Frodo and Merry in the deepest of their hearts and they struggled to hold back their joyous tears. Frodo smiled ever wider resting his head back down.
Many hobbits arrived Poolside with heaps of blankets and towels. Merry accepted those offered, tucking layers around his cousin. "You saved more than one life today. You rescued her and saved her family from a great suffering that would not be easy to forget." Embarrassed with nothing to reply the other hobbit cast down his eyes, staring at his fingers drumming on his chest. In Merry's mind the scenario replayed again, the first splash, then others to follow; him ordering Fatty to get aid and then watching Frodo swim out to Essie. "Wait," he thought and appeared puzzled. Looking down at Frodo he said, "I didn't know you could swim."
"I didn't either until I jumped in," he weakly responded.
Merry paused. Such was Frodo's character: selfless by all means. Whether he believed it in himself or not, Frodo is compelled by a type of bravery uncommon among his kinfolk. Guided by the morally right, he tenders his stance between right and wrong, life and danger with little heed to consequence. The strongest will derives from an inner motivation not yet conceived of oneself; rather it is innate of their person driving them to act without much thought. Others know when such gifts are bestowed to an individual and boasts are never required. Merry's lower lip quivered and tears streamed down his face. Lifting carefully into his arms he took his brave cousin and embraced him. An overwhelming esteem choked Merry and his love for Frodo never seemed greater.
***
At the close of a hastened feast Frodo and Merry departed Bywater's Green Dragon Inn. The crowd that gathered would have gladly carried the lads on their shoulders just as they had done previously on the trip from the Pool to the inn, but they opted a less-heroic off-going, marching out on their own two feet. Dusk waned to a crisp autumn evening by the hour they reached the Hill leading up to Bag End.
"I've perfected the story now and ready to commit to memory," said Merry as they trekked uphill.
"Let's here your new rendering then," Frodo replied. There had been several versions of the story nearly equal to the many strides they took walking home. Merry wanted to get it just right, as he would be telling the tale of the Rescue at Bywater Pool for months to come. His cousin, more patient than most young hobbits, was obliged to serve as a testing audience.
Merry cleared his throat, the sign of the beginning, "In leapt Frodo the Brave into the murky depths of Bywater, the young lass Essie needed brought to safety. No doubt Brandybuck with Took he must be to plunge into waters unknown."
"But Baggins nonetheless!" Frodo interjected.
"Young Baggins swam fiercely," Merry snidely corrected, "paddling with the speed of many rowers. Determination willed him, the young lass would not die today! his mind was reminded. At his touch she panicked still and deadlier the mission became. Forced under was he into the dark waters of the Bywater Pool. Breath shortened for both hobbits and despair dealt a hardy blow. Death waded in the shallows near by. My silent cry was heard and answered no sooner than I called it. Of all hobbits of the Shire, Fatty produced the miracle. A coil of rope at his finding he brought to me and I dived and delivered mid-pool. For the Brandybucks are masters of the Brandywine River, sailing and swimming upon its currents. The rope-end fastened to Essie then pulled to the dry shore was she. Frodo the Brave sank deeper, a hobbit's length plus one indeed. His body I retrieved and laid on dry grass but feared death greeted him first. My face wet with water and tears I pleaded him not to go, not to leave, though his breath seemed to have already gone. My cries this time I heralded to all that could hear and no sooner than I called my answer retrieved. Frodo the Brave drew careful breath and with that he was returned from the call of death."
Frodo halted their pace; they reached the front door of Bag End. He turned to face his young friend, "Merry, that was magnificent! My Merry, you saved me and I have not yet thanked you. What can be said equal to how incredibly grateful I am to you." He rested his hand on Merry's shoulder.
"Before you go on about all that, congratulate yourself first. Without thought for yourself you jumped into a peril you had no master of to save another--"
"--and nearly killed us both!" Frodo smirked as he reminded.
"But you didn't just stand and watch."
For a length they fell silent. Frodo looked down and nodded then returned to Merry's gaze. "Let's go in. I'm very tired. Too tired even for more stories, yet this last one is a keeper. Tell Bilbo I've gone to rest for the night and tell him your story if you like." He opened the door, making a beeline to his room he shut his door. In the dark Merry pitifully stood under the round frame unsure of what to do next.
A muffled voice called from behind a closed door, "Frodo? Merry? Is that you arriving?" A flickering glow stretched from beneath the study door. Merry tiptoed his way to it, holding his breath anxiously as he turned the knob and uncovered the mystery of Bilbo's infamous study. The power of four lamps brightly scattered light in the fair sized room and in the middle, seated at his large desk, was Bilbo feverishly moving his pen about. He was quite disappointed for it looked like any study in any home, wealthy with volumes of knowledge in printed books not engraved on gold plates as wildly imagined.
The old hobbit broke his concentration at Merry's entrance, "Good gracious me, Merry, what it is?" He put down his pen. By the looks of him the young Brandybuck appeared to have been put through the washing ringer several times over and then left out to dry. "Where's Frodo?" He asked with a dash of concern.
Taking more steps in to the study, he faced directly in front of Bilbo. He commenced his story of the Rescue at Bywater Pool with the usual throat clearing. Bilbo was enraptured, he seemed to have held his breath at the most suitable peaks in the story. At length's end Bilbo rewound to what he was not sure he heard correctly. "Hold a moment, did you say swam? When did Frodo learn to swim?"
"Right when he jumped in the water," he said as a matter of fact. Merry then continued their part at the inn while Bilbo nodded in countenance with his fingers cupping his chin. "When we got to the Green Dragon a crowd of hobbits cheered his bravery and they fed us shovels of food and barrels of drink. They even offered to ride us home, but Frodo and I were filled to the brim, we thought walking is better to faster up the digestion.
Bilbo sighed in relief and smiled. "I am plenty grateful for your bravery, Merry," Bilbo met the Brandybuck eye to eye. "You are a dear friend to Frodo, a friend I know he will cherish till the end of his days, and so will I. The Brandybucks are a fine lot, of that I am sure. And bless their knowledge of the water and how to swim it. Now I will go to see our lad."
Bilbo exited his study, forgetting Merry was left behind, marched out to discover his home was pitch as midnight. "Oh my," he said in the darkness. Feeling around to the closest lamp he kindled its wick with nearby matches. Equipped with a light source to guide him, he flamed each lamp till Bag End shone in a warm blaze. In the kitchen he set water for tea and reached in the pantry for a couple of Frodo's favorite snacks. The kettle whistled. Together he set a tray of cups and a short loaf of bread matched with supply of honey butter. He called, "Merry, will you put on the fire?"
"Certainly," Merry swiftly responded. Merry emerged from the study avoiding any glance his uncle may cast. As he packed the hearth to set a flame Bilbo hurriedly passed him, tray in hand, to the passageway leading to Frodo's room. Turning the corner away from Merry, Bilbo called again, "Be a good lad and shut the door to my study, will you please."