Disclaimer: Middle Earth and all its locations belong to the JRR Tolkien estate. The main characters belong to me and are copyrighted. I do not claim ownership of anything of JRR Tolkien's, and I bow down to him in thanks for his wonderful creations which act as inspirations to us all. *bows solemnly*

The Stowaway's Bow

Suddenly the packs piled upon the floor of boat heaved with a spasmodic movement, and Trotter saw with a cry of dismay that the bright young face of June Oldbuck was peering out at him from among the baggage.

          "Turn back the boat!" Trotter cried to Folco, "Turn back now!"

          Folco stared in frozen surprise at his cousin, who seemed undisturbed by the commotion she was causing. June was sitting cross-legged, still half-concealed beneath the pile of packs on the boat's floor. She wore trousers and a shirt, her curly hair caught into a ponytail at the nape of her neck, and there was a short-bow on her back. She ignored Folco, but stared at Trotter defiantly, though a slight blush on her cheeks betrayed her excitement. Trotter grimaced in frustration.

          "It's too late," June said, "You can't go back now! You have to take me!" Trotter ignored her and turned back to his companion.

          "Folco!" he said urgently, grabbing one of the paddles, "We have to turn back! She can't come with us!" A sense of urgency filled him – the banks on either side rushed passed quickly as the Brandywine pulled them farther and farther away from the Shire.

          Folco snapped to attention and grasped the other paddle, but his hands slowed and stilled. He stared back north towards Buck Hall, which was already disappearing around the bend of the river.

          "It's too late!" he cried, "We've hit the Withywindle! Man the oar, Trotter, or we'll be overturned!"

          At that moment, the little boat was caught in a sudden swirl in the current, and began to spin swiftly in the water. Trotter clutched at the wooden side; June with a yelp was rolled from her seat. The sky spun around him in a whirl of blue and the water rushed loudly, but he managed to catch a paddle and began to pull against the strength of the river as best as he could.

          "What's happening?" he shouted to Folco, who was labouring alongside him.

          "The Withywindle runs into the Brandywine here!" the other Hobbit shouted back, "It's enchanted … sometimes it draws boats up into the forest, or sends them hurtling downriver!"

          "Let's hope for the second," Trotter muttered, pushing grimly at the oar. The boat began to steady, no longer spinning, but he was too busy trying to control the bucking vessel to notice where the river had taken them. The colour of the water was odd; mixed in with the usual brown of the Brandywine was a swirling, green-tinted current – the stream of the Withywindle.

          Suddenly, June gasped and pointed ahead of them. She was holding precariously onto the bow of the ship, leaning forward and staring down the river.

          "Oh!" she said, "Oh, look! Falco!"

          Trotter craned his neck to follow June's trembling finger, and he nearly dropped his paddle in shock.

          The Brandywine was wide here, where the Withywindle flowed into it from the Old Forest and the waters tumbled and played at their own will. On the east bank sparse trees grew on the plain, but on the west the Overbourn Marshes lay grey and silent, a twisting maze of shallow water and shifting earth. The Marshes had once been a giant, shallow lake, famed for the giant lily pads that could grow to the size of a barn on its surface. In ancient days huge white flowers had covered the lake, filling the air with a delicious scent. But over the years dark things had slithered into the mire and the plants had aged, and soil had built up on them into which reeds and cattails put their roots, forming a multitude of unstable floating islands. Channels led from the river into the tall rustling reeds, opening and closing sometimes before a watcher's very eyes, like an ever-changing labyrinth.

          Falco's boat had been caught in the wayward Withywindle's current in the same way as theirs had, but instead of spinning it in dizzying circles, it pushed them irresistibly into the lee of the marshes. Now, as Trotter watched, it was plain to him that the other boat was being drawn into the marshes themselves; a large channel had opened up and the little wooden vessel sped helplessly towards it, despite the frantic efforts of its crew.

          "Quick!" Trotter said, forgetting all else, "We have to follow before we lose sight of them!"

          "What?" Folco gasped, "Into the marshes? We'll never come out! We should go back for help!"

          "No time!" Trotter replied, "We can't go back up the river! They'll be lost!" He began to paddle determinedly after the other boat, and the same current that had hindered them before helped them now. With no further argument, Folco joined his efforts, and they sped after their friends. Falco's boat had already passed beyond the first stand of reeds, but the combined exertions of its three passengers had managed to slow its progress somewhat.

          Sweat ran into Trotter's eyes and his arms began to ache, but he only worked harder, driving the boat as fast as he could. He bit his lip, for it was obvious that the channel into which they were heading had grown smaller; the floating arms on either side of it were enclosing them in a greedy embrace. Dimly he saw Anna standing up, teetering uncertainly in the small vessel, now only a few yards ahead. She threw something over to them; Trotter saw the end of a rope thud lightly against the wooden floor next to him.

          "Catch it!" he heard Anna call.

          June caught hold of the rope and tied it with a firm knot to their own boat. Then the final few yards shot by and they burst into the narrow stream in the marshes, their built-up momentum driving them past their companions. The rope stretched once but held, and the two boats drew close to each other once more.

          A sudden hush fell over the air. Trotter put down his paddle and looked up, dreadfully certain of what he would see. He could no longer hear the rushing of the Brandywine; only the rustling of reeds in the breeze came to his ears. And no matter where he looked, only the rustling reeds met his eyes. The channel they had come through had closed behind them. They were lost in the Marshes.

          "Heavens!" Trotter heard Folco whisper beside him. The Hobbit's face was pale and he stared with wide eyes around him. Uneasily, Trotter recalled that the Thain had said something about strange creatures living in the marshes. What monsters might await them here? But everything was still except for the whispering cattails. He glanced over the side of the boat, but that told him nothing – the water was dark brown, and he could not guess its depth. He looked over at the other boat, now floating motionless adjacent to them. Beleg stood in the middle on the single wooden bench, gazing at their surroundings, bright-eyed and undaunted. His cloak ruffled in the wind dramatically, making him seem majestic, like a figure from an ancient fairy-tale. After a moment he leaped back down lightly, the boat not so much as wobbling at his movement.

          "No use," he said, "I can't see a thing." He sat down on the floor next to Anna. Falco was kneeling by the side of the boat, clutching the wood with white-knuckled hands. He stared at Trotter, licking his lips.

          "What are we going to do?" he asked.

          Everyone looked at Trotter and his stomach turned. Five pairs of eyes watched him steadily, five living souls, and he wondered nervously if he could bear up their weight, if he could lead them and end with five as he had begun. He swallowed.

          "Well, we can't stay here," he said as cheerfully as he could, "We should head south and east, I believe, if we want to meet with the river again. Steering by the sun, we should be able to keep a fairly straight path parallel to the Brandywine until we find another channel. Then we can row out again. At least this way we don't have to deal with the dangerous currents for a while, and certainly no one will see us here! Once we get back on the right road we'll be at Sarn Ford quickly enough, where we'll continue on foot. From there you and Folco can take the road back to the Shire, Falco – and take June with you." He gazed piercingly at the girl, who looked nervous but stared back stubbornly.

          "I'm not going back with them," she said.

          "You most certainly are," Trotter replied angrily, "You are not coming to Gondor, and that's that. If you will not return willingly to the Shire, you will be tied and sent back with your cousins."

          "You can't do that," June said, red-faced.

          Trotter only looked at her darkly, and she fell silent and did not meet his gaze. For a moment no one spoke. Then Trotter turned back to Falco and Beleg in the other boat.

          "I suggest we get started!" he said, "We are facing south, so we must go ahead and to the left, if at all possible."

          Obeying him silently, they took their oars and began to paddle slowly and carefully through the marshes. It was difficult and frustrating work, for often they drifted past channels without seeing them, or thought they had come upon a left-bearing stream only to find that it was a dead-end, or curved back to the west. Several times they were stranded in the shallows; it was impossible to tell where the water was deep and where not. In these cases only with much pushing and pulling did they manage to free the boat from the clinging mud, and soon they were all liberally splattered with brown ooze.

Nowhere did they catch any hint of the sound of the Brandywine, and they soon grew very tired of the monotonous music of the grey-green rushes. They came to dislike the water as well, and avoided its touch, for it had a strange slippery feel, as if covered with slime or oil. The air seemed hotter and thicker, stuffier somehow, as if they were enclosed in a giant room with no doors or windows. The twins twitched nervously at every stray sound, and even when they ate they could not be comforted, lapsing into greater fear and nervousness as time went by. Anna sat silently in the stern of her boat, sunk into a strange melancholy, though now and then she whistled in perfect imitation of various kinds of birds. She listened then, but no bird ever answered, and she fell silent again.

          Beleg seemed tireless, paddling and talking with equal ease. Often he stood up in the boat and gazed around, but he always shook his head in the end and sat back down. He kept up a lively conversation with Trotter, and the two of them attempted to cheer up their companions by whatever means possible. June said nothing, only sat mutinously sulking upon the wooden floor, but her eyes never left Trotter's face.

          In fact, it was beginning to annoy him.

          "If you think staring at me will convince me to take you to Gondor, you are far from right," he said finally, when the sun was already setting in the evening. They had not come any closer to escaping the Marshes, and everyone was in a bad mood.

          "You are not taking me anywhere," June said, "I go where I please."

          Trotter repressed an urge to groan. "Why did you have to get into the boat?" he said, "Are you completely mad?"

          "Not completely," she said, grinning suddenly, "But mostly, yes."

          "I should've guessed …"

          "I really am going to come with you," June said, "You can't stop me."

          Trotter said nothing.

          "Don't you want to know why?" June asked, a bit angrily.

          "Not really," Trotter said, "Actually, the question doesn't spark the slightest bit of interest."

          Beleg looked over from the other boat. "Careful, Trotter!" he laughed, "You're starting to talk like me!"

          Trotter glared at the Elfit. "Keep to your own boat!" he said, "We are trying to have a conversation over here." He sighed and turned back to June. "Yes, suppose you can tell me your reasons for stowing away, if you must. But it had better be a good story, or I won't listen at all."

          "Well …" June began, "I heard you talking to my father, and everything you said. I wasn't trying to eavesdrop … well, all right, actually I was trying to eavesdrop. But you didn't notice me, did you?" She waited until Trotter nodded before continuing, satisfied. "It all sounded so awful. I kept thinking, Can't I do something to help? It seemed such a waste, to stay there useless in the Shire when I could be doing something against the Witch-King. He's so … evil. Somebody has to stop him. And well, I'm probably not the right person for that …"

          "Definitely," Trotter corrected.

          "… all right, definitely, but I still want to help somehow. So I decided to go to Gondor with you. Ordinary people have to do their part too, after all. I know you think I'm useless and that I'll be a burden – just because I'm a girl, of course – but you should give me a chance anyway. And you might need me. I can shoot, and I know lots of things about plants." She flourished her short bow as if to prove her point.

          "Really?" Trotter said with false interest, "Well, that's just wonderful. It seems all our problems are solved."

          June scowled. "You're being sarcastic," she said, "That's rude. Don't be so quick to judge – not everything is what it seems."

          Trotter started at the familiar words. His father had often told him the same … but did the advice really apply in this case? He looked at June, more carefully this time. His heart sank. She was young, even younger than he was, and he doubted she had ever been outside of the Shire. But then, how often had he been out of Bree before all this started? Was it really fair to hold her inexperience against her? On the other hand, was it fair to allow her to rush into a situation she knew nothing about?

          Responsibility, he decided, was a mixed blessing.

          "Don't be angry at me for stowing away," June asked, a bit uncertainly. He almost began to feel sorry for her, to his own horror. "And … think about letting me come. If you don't want me to, I probably can't make you, but think about it anyway. Think about it from my point of view."

          Her point of view. A vague feeling of surprise sparked in him. But after all, why not? Maybe she was headstrong, but she was obviously brave as well, bold and determined. Adding one more person to their company would not raise their chances of being noticed by the Enemy very much, especially when that person was as small and inconspicuous as a Hobbit girl. In fact, it might help disguise them – such a group could easily be mistaken for refugees fleeing the war, should anyone notice them at all. And could he really force her to turn back?

          Still, his doubts would not let him rest. Something told him that June should not come with them, that she should not be with them at this very moment, and the consequences of her presence would be unpleasant.

          "All right," he said cautiously, "I'll think about it. But don't count on me changing my mind."

          A smile lit up June's face, like the sun coming out from behind a cloud. "Excellent!" she said, "I can't wait until we land again – I've never been to the plains before!"

          "Now wait a minute …" Trotter frowned, "I said I'd think about it, not that I have decided to let you come."

          "But you will, won't you? After all, that is the wisest decision, under the circumstances …"

Trotter rolled his eyes. He was tired and he didn't feel like arguing with this presumptuous girl-child anymore. He glanced over at Anna, hoping to catch her eye, but she and Beleg were sitting at the far end of their boat, whispering to each other. He wondered what the conversation was about, but decided to leave it be. At least they weren't at each other's throats anymore.

          Trotter lay back in the boat, staring up at the star-studded night sky. There was the Milk Road, spread like a flaming white arm over the velvet blackness. He picked out the Sickle and the belt of Menelvagor, the Dragon and the Wheel. When he had been a young Hobbit-lad, his father had told him the stories behind the stars … they had lain together on the grass of Bree-hill and pointed out all the constellations they knew, plus new ones they invented themselves.

          With a start, he realized he was homesick. The Shire had reminded him what ordinary life was like, and he missed it. The Marshes were eerie in the night, in glaring contrast to the liveliness of Buck Hall. Sighing, he pushed away the feeling and tried to doze …

          Anna watched Beleg out of the corner of her eye. The brilliant stars outlined his profile starkly, his eyes shining as if they were two of Varda's lights themselves. He had settled down next to her in the stern of their boat minutes ago, but had not spoken or even looked at her yet. She was determined that she would not speak first, but the silence was began to grate on her nerves. She wondered what he wanted. Maybe he was merely trying to put her on edge; it would be rather typical of him. Unfortunately, he was succeeding. She fidgeted slightly, then forced herself to sit still.

          "I suppose you're wondering why I'm sitting here, and if I am merely trying to put you on edge, aren't you?" Beleg asked, leaning his head back against the side of the boat.

          "Exactly," Anna said, "And I hope you will tell me, but I probably shouldn't count on that."

          "Now this is extremely strange. I had a feeling you were going to say precisely that."

          "Maybe you are a mind-reader," Anna said, "But if so, you will have to prove it by reading my mind before I speak aloud."

          Beleg chuckled. "Point taken," he said, "But before this deteriorates into another bitter argument, there's something I'd like to say." His voice was quite calm, but Anna felt subconsciously that there was tension beneath the ice. She waited curiously. "I am extremely sorry for accusing you of wanting to desert us," Beleg said, "It was uncalled for, and I'm afraid I overreacted badly. I know perfectly well that no one in the world means more to you than Trotter, and that you would never willingly leave him – no more would I. I never thought you would, either, only I was, well, being myself in the worst way." He grinned suddenly, white teeth flashing. "You have every reason to despise me, and you were quite right – I don't have a heart, or if I do, it would take a full team of Dwarves to dig it out."

          "Beleg," Anna said wonderingly, "I don't think I've ever heard you speak for such a long time without a single insult to someone or other." She frowned suddenly into the night. "You aren't ill, are you? I do not know much about sicknesses of the brain …"

          Beleg stifled his laughter. "No, my mind is not feverish," he said, "But whether or not I am ill is another question. Still, I am in no hurry to die, so you may keep your healing hands to yourself. Oh, I suppose that was another insult?"

          "It was too good to last," Anna said grimly.

          Beleg was silent for a moment. She watched him carefully, but he was not looking at her. His gaze was directed at the sky. His hands twitched unnoticed on his drawn-up knees. She found herself remembering what his hands had felt like under hers when they had ridden together in the storm.

          What was wrong with her? Her head felt light and her blood rushed strangely in her ears. She looked quickly at the dull water; it was cold and dark. Cold … She wanted to say something, but couldn't decide what. He had apologized to her, of all things – now what was she supposed to do?

          "I …" both she and Beleg said at the same time. Anna grinned at the surprised look on the Elfit's face.

          "You first," she said, "And I'm warning you, for every insult I will dunk you and your spotless white feminine blouse into the muddiest shoal I can find."

          "I am not wearing a …" Beleg began heatedly. He stopped himself quickly, though, apparently unwilling to let her provoke him. "Anyway, returning to a mature topic of conversation – and that was not an insult! – I merely wanted to ask you again: who were you before you met Trotter? I told you both where I come from and who my parents are, and it is only fair that you return the favour sooner or later."

          Anna scowled. "It is none of your business," she said coldly, "And I don't want to talk about it. I am not interested in what you think is fair or not; my life is my own, and so are my secrets."

          "But your life is not your own any longer," Beleg insisted, "Perhaps when you were alone and cared for no one you were justified in keeping your secrets, but you have friends now. Trotter and I have a right to know the truth. You are our companion! It is troth, it is a matter of honour. The three of us are in this together."

          "Honour!" Anna said, "You and your troth nonsense … the truth is, you're just nosy. Well, my business is my own! And your fancy ideas of honour have nothing to do with me!"

          "Perhaps they should!" Beleg replied, "Do you want to stay what you have been all your life – an outcast? If you refuse to trust in people when they try to befriend you, then you have only yourself to blame!"

          "Keep your judgements to yourself! What right do you have to judge me anyway? What do you care?"

          "Well, I…" Beleg stopped, flushing. Then he muttered, "You … stubborn, half-witted …" He glimpsed her sudden movement, and yelped. "No, wait - !"

          But it was too late. With as powerful a shove as she could muster, Anna had pushed him unceremoniously over the side of the boat, into the sludgy marsh-water. There was a loud splash, and both boats rocked. June and the twins yelped, and Trotter sat up, looking around wildly for the source of the noise.

          "What happened?" he cried, standing up in the middle of his boat.

          His question was answered a second later by the reappearance of Beleg, neck deep in the dark water and cursing like a Dwarf with his beard on fire. The Elfit shook his head, sending thick drops splattering against the boats. If he had ever truly worn a spotless white feminine blouse, those days were gone forever – he was now thoroughly drenched with liquid mud. His hair hung in limp tangles and brown water ran down his face – revealing an expression of frightening fury. Quick as a snake, he slipped to the side of Anna's boat, grabbed her arm, and tugged.

          Anna braced herself against the wooden side, pulling back with all her strength. "Don't – you – !" she gasped, trying to loosen the Elfit's grip. Dimly, she saw Falco stumbling to help her out of the corner of her eye.

          "Beleg!" Trotter shouted, too far away to do more than stare in mixed confusion and amusement, "Are you certain that's -?"

          Without warning, Beleg's grip on Anna's arm slackened. He fell back suddenly into the water, clutching desperately at the side of the boat with both hands. His eyes opened wide as he stared up at Anna's face, mouth working silently. Then with a smothered cry, he disappeared beneath the surface of the water.

          Anna leaned dangerously over the side, staring frantically into the black waves. Both boats were rocking wildly back in forth as waves crashes against them. Too many waves …

          "Anna!" Trotter cried. He grabbed the rope connecting the boats and began to pull, drawing the little vessels closer to each other, "What did you say to him?" The Hobbit looked as if he were regretting that he had left his two companions together without his own calming presence – apparently their feud was far from over.

          "Where did he go?" Falco asked nervously, peering into the water. The boats bumped together with a crack, still rolling from side to side, though the waves had begun to diminish.

          "Oh, no," Trotter heard Anna whisper. She sat down suddenly, staring wide-eyed into space. But he didn't have time for that now. He scanned the surface of the water frantically. Where was Beleg? Surely the Elfit could swim … so why had he sunk? Or had he? It had been too dark to see, but Beleg had jerked under the water so quickly it hadn't looked natural. The Thain's words echoed unpleasantly in his mind: "…strange creatures wake to life in the marshes …"

          He was just contemplating jumping into the water himself, though it would have done little good, when Beleg reappeared. The Elfit's head broke the water on the far side of Anna's boat; he grabbed the wall and pulled himself quickly over the edge, tumbling in a messy heap between the wooden benches. Anna yelped and fell backwards. Then she crawled closer and tried to turn Beleg over. He pushed her away, coughing up water.

          "Beleg!" Anna said, "I -!"

          "Quiet!" he snapped.

          "But -!" He clapped his hand over her mouth, glaring fiercely. Then he glanced at Trotter meaningfully and jerked his head at the water.

          Silence descended onto the marshes; but not total silence. The water was as dark and inscrutable as ever, but a strange swishing noise filled the air. It was soft, nearly inaudible – Trotter almost thought it was his imagination. He crept to the edge of the boat and watched the water, a dread suspicion growing in his mind.

          They were floating in a broad south-leading channel. Tall reed-covered islands fenced the sides, but the water itself was wide here, almost a pond. The rushes bent gently in the wind. And as Trotter watched, the water roiled suddenly on their right. Something long and snake-like slipped past, raising tiny waves that broke against the boats. It was too dark to see clearly, but Trotter had a distinct impression of a long, slimy-scaled body, with spines rising at intervals from the back. The thing was at least five feet wide.

          "What is that?" June whispered.

          "Shhhh …" Trotter said, barely loud enough to be heard, "No one say anything. Maybe it will go away …"

          The thing was certainly going, but whether it was moving away was a different question. The scaly hide kept disappearing and reappearing, ducking under the water and coming to the surface again. It glistened dully in the moonlight. Trotter wondered just how big it was. But it did not seem to have noticed them. He began to hope that it would pass them by, unmolested.

          Suddenly, June squealed. "It sees us!" she said, "Look, its eye is glowing!" She leaped up, grabbing her bow and nocking an arrow. Then Trotter saw it too; a shiny spot on the dark hide. But that couldn't be an eye – it was in the middle of the thing's body.

          "No!" he said, reaching for June, "Don't shoot! You'll only bring its attention to us!"

          He was too slow. Before he could grab June's bow, she had loosed an arrow. To her credit, she was quite as good a shot as she claimed to be – but it stood them in bad stead this time. The arrow zipped through the air and struck the shining spot – and bounced off with a clang. The shining spot was not an eye, but a lighter scale that reflected the moonlight.

          The snake-body shuddered suddenly, and before Trotter could blink, it had lifted out of the water. A huge head rose into the air, dripping with slime and mud, and shook itself with a rumbling roar. Two giant yellow eyes snapped open, focusing indiscriminately on the two tiny boats floating precariously before them.

          "Water-dragon!" Beleg cried.

          Trotter had never heard of a water-dragon before, and he wished desperately that he had never had cause to hear the name. It did look like a dragon, in fact, except that it had nothing fiery about it. Its body was serpent-like, long and muscular, and as it rose higher into the air its head was silhouetted against the sky. The head was diamond-shaped, with horny protrusions and spines running in an orderly line down its back. Horns grew in pairs on either side of its face, behind its small, flat ears.

          June stood gaping in the middle of the boat, face to face with the dragon's yellow eyes, her bow forgotten in her hand. The eyes blinked, once, twice, then the mouth opened and hot, foul breath washed over them. June wavered, and Trotter thought she would faint and fall, but in the last second she caught herself.

          "Watch out!" he shouted as the muscles on the water-dragon's scaly neck tensed. With a movement almost too quick to see, the huge jaws snapped, and only the wild rocking of the boat saved June, sending her crashing to the floor. Trotter pressed himself down as far away from the dragon as he could, Folco next to him; but the beast had seen them. It coiled again, opening its mouth wide, and for a moment Trotter was sure the last thing he would ever see was the moonlight glinting on yellow fangs. Then something flashed, and the dragon reared back, roaring in pain and anger. Beleg had shot an arrow into its mouth.

          Trotter jumped up unsteadily, drawing Nyéra. But Beleg was quicker than him, and more agile; the Elfit leaped onto the dragon's head, his knife glittering in his hand.

          "Beleg, you fool!" Anna shrieked, "Come back here!" She stumbled wildly back and forth, unable to find a stable footing as she tried to follow the Elfit. Falco pulled her back, and the two of them fell struggling to the bottom of the boat.

          Beleg paid no attention; he was far too busy with the dragon. The creature began to shake its head this way and that in an attempt to dislodge its pesky rider. With lightning movements, it tossed back and forth, hurling its unwelcome passenger through the air. Its head swung to the left, and Beleg almost tumbled off, grabbing onto one slippery spine in the nick of time. He hung suspended by one hand for an instant, legs dangling in the air; then he swung himself gracefully back onto the grotesque head.

          "Trotter!" he yelled, "Throw me the rope!"

          Trotter wasn't certain what Beleg wanted the rope for, but he knew better than to question now. He picked up the remaining coil and, waiting for a lull in the dragon's frantic bucking, threw one end to the Elfit. Beleg caught it deftly and managed to tie it to the dragon's largest horn, in the centre of its skull.

          "Tie …" Before he could finish his sentence, the dragon tossed its head once more, diving momentarily under the surface of the water. It emerged a moment later, with a sputtering Elfit still clinging to its hide. Beleg began to slip dangerously; the dragon's scales gave no sure hold to even his quick hands.

          "Tie it to the boat!" Beleg yelled, voice cracking with strain.

          "What!" Trotter shouted, wondering briefly what Beleg could be planning, but decided it would be wisest to comply. He tied the other end of the rope to their shaking boat.

          Beleg sprawled on his stomach on the monster's head, embracing the horny skull with both arms. The beast, as if suspecting what was to come, bucked more determinedly than ever, but it could not dislodge the clinging weight. Steel glinted in the Elfit's hands; he had his knife in one and an arrow in the other. With a ruthless movement, he dug the knife into the dragon's left ear, and the arrow-point into its right. The water-dragon shrieked, a shivering cry that rang eerily through the marshes; then it jerked forward and began to swim.

          Trotter fell back into the boat, bowled over by the sudden momentum. The rope tautened but held, and suddenly they were speeding away through the dark Marshes. Water rolled away in giant splashes on either side of the boat; he glanced behind to see Anna and Falco's boat being dragged along behind them, still tied to his own. Its two passengers clung to the wooden benches, their fear-filled eyes glinting as the boat was hurled from side to side. Trotter could see the dragon's scaly body stretched out beside the boats – he hoped fervently that a stray slap from the creature's tail would not overturn them.

          He dragged himself forward, drenched to the bone. The wooden vessel was being swamped; but he had no time to worry about that. He stared up at Beleg, who was riding the water-dragon as if it were an everyday occurrence as normal as riding a horse. He had sat up and his wet hair was streaming away behind him like dark flames blown by the wind. The Elfit laughed giddily, and Trotter realized that he was steering the dragon. By digging his arrow further into the monster's right ear, he forced it to veer left; they were dashing south and east now, tearing through the Marshes far faster than they could ever have done under their own power.

          The floating islands tipped and overturned as the giant body of the water-dragon hurled them out of its path. The channels grew wider about them, melting and merging. They were reshaping the Marshes.

          Suddenly, he could hear a different noise over the splashing of the water around him. Folco appeared at his side in the bow; the Hobbit looked frightened half to death, but he shouted as calmly as he could. Beleg's reckless bravery had obviously made an impression on him, and he was trying, rather unsuccessfully, to look unconcerned.

          "The Brandywine!" he yelled, "I hear the Brandywine!"

          Sure enough, it was the sound of crashing water that Trotter heard – inordinately loud crashing water. A waterfall! The dragon was pulling them straight towards a cliff!

          "Beleg!" he cried, "Beleg!" But the Elfit didn't hear him.

          All of a sudden, the reed islands parted before them, and they hurtled out onto the Brandywine River. The far shore loomed, shrouded by trees. The dark water reflected the moon's light brightly, and Trotter could see what he had been expecting: fifty yards or so in front of them, a waterfall tumbled into nothingness. The moon glinted on the white foam … and the dragon was heading straight for the drop.

          Beleg, too, had seen the fall and realized their danger immediately. "Trotter!" he cried, twisting his head backwards, "Cut the rope!"

          "No!" Trotter said, unwilling to leave his friend stranded on the head of a mad dragon. But Beleg would have none of it; he pulled his knife from the water-dragon's ear and sliced through the rope.

          With a jerk, the boats slowed and stopped, spinning in small circles where they floated. They were still being drawn towards the waterfall, but much more slowly now. The dragon paid not the least bit of notice to its lost baggage, driving on heedlessly and taking Beleg with it. The Elfit seemed to be trying to jump of his grotesque steed's back, but the creature moved so quickly that he was pressed flat against its slimy skin.

          "Folco, paddle the boat to the eastern shore," Trotter directed, quickly shoving Nyéra back into its sheath and standing up.

          "What are you doing?" the young Hobbit asked.

          "Keeping my oath," Trotter said. Without another word, he dived into the river. And that movement saved his life. When his head broke the surface once more, the first thing he saw was the end of the water-dragon's tail, descending down onto the boat with a last vengeful blow. June shrieked and hurled herself away, just in time. The giant, scaly tail crashed down onto the boat, smashing it into matchwood and sending a man-high wave washing into all directions.

          The wave rolled over Trotter's head, and for a moment he was lost under the black water. It was cold, but he hardly noticed. He struck out for the surface and came up gasping.

          The dragon had passed on. Nothing remained of the boat except splintered bits of woods floating on the surface of the river. Trotter dog-paddled in the water, twisting around to look frantically in every direction. He caught sight of Anna and Falco's boat, unharmed but half-swamped. Then, a few feet away from him, June popped up, gasping and striking out blindly in the water.

          "Swim to the shore!" he yelled to her, getting a mouthful of river-water. Without looking to see if she complied, he turned and began to swim with the current, towards the thunderous falls.

          The water-dragon shrieked again with its chilling voice. Trotter's limbs froze and he stared up at the struggle taking place before him now. The water crashed indifferently over the drop, but the giant serpent had noticed the danger too late. It reared up, trying to avoid the fall. Beleg, finally gaining a moment to make his escape, began to slip down the dragon's back as quickly as he could, using it as a pathway away from the waterfall.

          With a final mournful cry, the water-dragon shuddered; then it was pulled over the falls. Its head disappeared over the drop and its long body began to follow rapidly. The writhing cylinder raised out of the water, dripping and shuddering in expectation of death. Trotter watched in an agony of suspense as Beleg raced desperately along the length of the tail. If the body washed over the falls before the Elfit made it to the end, he would be pulled along with it to a certain death …

          Beleg gathered himself to leap; but at that very moment, the dragon's tail convulsed for the last time, flicking like a whip through the air, and the Elfit was hurled forward into the water. With a swish, the dragon disappeared over the waterfall, and the river was clean once more.

          Beleg broke the surface of the water and began to swim hard against the current. He was tired, but the river did not flow swiftly here, and he made progress slowly toward the eastern shore. Trotter looked back at the Marshes once; the islands had already closed in once more, and no sign of their passing remained. Then he, too, struck out for land.

          A few minutes later, the company assembled, wet and exhausted, under the trees on the east bank of the Brandywine River. Beleg collapsed on the ground and rolled onto his back, chest heaving. Anna and Falco had managed to paddle their boat to land, drawing it up onto the shore and saving half of their supplies. The two sat shivering on the soft, pine needle covered earth. June stood by the bank, staring out at the river.

          Trotter stumbled over to the Elfit. "Beleg," he said wearily, "The next time you tell me to throw you a rope, I'll hang it around your neck."

          "Then you might as well do it now and get the thing over with," Beleg said, sitting up with an obvious effort, "I can hardly breathe anyway." The Elfit brushed his sopping hair away from his face and stared up at Trotter. Lines of fatigue marked his face, clearing visible in the checkered moonlight under the trees.

          Trotter looked around at his seated company. "Are we all …" he began to ask. Then he stopped. Someone was missing. There were only five of them.

          Falco stared up at Trotter, realization dawning on his face. Trotter turned slowly to look at June, who was still gazing at the flowing Brandywine.

          "He never came up," she whispered, clearly audible in the night stillness, "He just never came up again."

          The last stray bits of wood were floating gently over the white falls, but Folco Oldbuck had disappeared. A strangled gasp escaped from Falco's throat. Trotter did not look at the remaining twin. Bitter anger curdled in him – he had been entrusted with five, and now he had four. They had all looked to him to lead them, and he had failed on the very first occasion. And the price of that failure was higher than he could afford to pay.

          A loud crack! rent the air, making all of them jump. June had broken her bow into two pieces. She took a step forward and, with all her strength, threw the two halves into the dark water. Then she crumpled to the ground and began to weep.

          When morning dawned, it found the five remaining travellers in the same spot by the edge of the Brandywine. As the first rays of the sun touched the dark needles bristling from the surrounding trees, Trotter lifted his head and blinked. He looked around wonderingly, as if awaking from a deep sleep, though he had found no rest that night.

          The Brandywine flowed on, indifferent to the sorrow it had caused the five small wanderers who had braved its mighty currents. The sun shone unconcernedly, and birds began to sing in the trees. Trotter stood up stiffly, surveying the four figures sitting with downcast eyes on the forest floor. Day had come, and it was time to move on.

          "We can't stay here anymore," he said. His voice broke the heavy silence, startling his companions out of their thoughts. "We have to go on."

          Beleg nodded and leaped to his feet, brushing off the pine needles that stuck to his wrinkled clothing. He seemed to have regained most of his strength, though Trotter was sure he had not slept, any more than the rest of them.

          "I am going to wash and have a look around," the Elfit said, "I'll be back in a few moments. At least we still have some of our supplies – hopefully they will be enough until we get to a town where we can replenish them. I suggest you unpack the boat and salvage what you can."

          Beleg strode off southwards along the riverbank, disappearing quickly into the trees. Trotter, with Anna and June's help, dragged the boat completely onto dry land and began to go through the packs and bags that had not been washed away. Falco did not join them, nor did he speak a single word. He remained where he sat, staring sightlessly into the distance. Trotter decided it would be better not to bother him.

 Luckily, most of their food had been in the surviving boat, and despite the thorough soaking, the larger part of it remained usable. There were other useful objects as well: rope, a tinderbox, a few pots, some now-wrinkled blankets, and a quiver of arrows. Beleg would be glad to see that – the Elfit had lost his own in the river. By the time Beleg returned, clean and fresh once more, the three of them had packed what they deemed most necessary into five small bundles.

"We have not landed quite where we wished to," Beleg said, "One can see quite a ways from the top of the waterfall there – there's a steep drop downhill, and the trees thin out. The land on the horizon is flat, and there is a road running along it. That should be the Shire Road, which crosses the river at Sarn Ford, where we meant to take to land. We are somewhat north of it now, but only by a few hours or so."

"Then we are hardly off course at all," Trotter said, relieved, "That's something at least. We cannot waste anymore time."

"But what about – what about Falco?" Anna asked, glancing sadly at the silent Hobbit. Hearing her words, Falco blinked and looked up at them. He seemed surprised to see all four of them staring at him, as if he had not noticed their presence before.

"Are we going on then?" he asked, "It's just as well – I don't want to see this blasted river any longer. I don't believe I shall ever go boating again, never in my life." He stood up, looking around slowly. "What was that – that thing? A water-dragon?"

"Yes," Beleg said, "Not really a dragon, of course – true dragons breathe fire and are much cleverer than water-dragons. These are more like overgrown snakes, bloated to such a size that they can no longer move on land, which is why they live in water. They like shallow ponds or lakes, with deep mud at the bottom where they can dig themselves in and hide from the sun, for their eyes are very sensitive. Once they were much more common, but they have declined over the years – which, as I think everyone will agree, is a positive thing."

Falco nodded. "Well, then I suppose we should be going. There is no point in waiting any longer, after all." He looked at the brown river and sighed deeply. "I never thought I should come to dislike the Brandywine," he said, "But now I feel – I feel that I hate it, and I wouldn't mind at all if all the dragons in the world came and dried it up with their fiery breath!"

With these words, he shouldered one of the small packs and walked southwards into the woods. His four companions followed quickly, but not without glancing backward sadly more than once.

The land sloped downhill quickly; here the higher country fell down into the low, flat plains, which spread all the way to the sea. The trees were tall and well spaced, spicy-scented evergreens that carpeted the ground with fallen needles. After a while the sound of the Brandywine faded as they veered away from the river. Silence filled the woods, disturbed only by the occasional call of a bird or the quick knocking of a woodpecker's beak. Once they startled a roe deer, which bounded away into the forest, its dappled hide blending into the uneven sunlight. Despite the sun, it was cold, and the wind blew in fitful gusts; they were all glad of their cloaks.

Towards noon, the land finally levelled out and the trees came to an end. They looked out from the last eaves and saw the Shire Road crossing their path, and Minhiriath stretching out endlessly on the other side.

"Well then," Trotter said, "This is where we part." He turned to Falco. "I am sorry. I did not lead you as I should have, and everything that has happened is my fault. I hope you will forgive me. In any case, you have no obligation to us, and can go back to the Shire as you choose."

"Do not blame yourself!" Falco said, "There has been enough sorrow already. Yes, I will go back to the Shire – but maybe I will not stay there. I should not like my little country to be overrun by creatures like that water-dragon, and I suppose that is what will happen if the Witch-King has his way. Something must be done; I will speak to my uncle about it, and to the Tooks and the other great families. But I wish you luck on your journey!"

"No doubt we'll need it," Anna said. She hugged Falco impulsively, and even Beleg clasped the Hobbit's hand, giving him a half-smile.

"And do you still wish to come with us?" Trotter asked June, "You have already seen what our journey consists of. That was only the beginning – I can't guess what else we may meet on our way! And perhaps you can still play a part in the downfall of the Witch-King, as you desired to, at home in the Shire."

June looked out across the wide plains, but then she shook her head.

"I have hardly proven myself fit to join you," she said, "If it hadn't been for my arrow, the water-dragon would have passed us by, and Folco would be here now. No, I will not go with you; I am going home to the Shire. But maybe we will meet again before the end – I hope so, at least."

"As do I," Trotter said, "You are more valiant than many people I have known … even if you are a girl."  He grinned, and she smiled back.

"Farewell!" she said, "And good luck!"

With a few final goodbyes, June and Falco left them and walked away westwards, toward Sarn Ford and the Shire. Trotter and his companions watched the two steadily shrinking figures until they disappeared into the distance. Then they turned and, crossing the Shire Road, stepped onto the plains.