Morantwen took her right hand and softly touched the water's surface with her fingertips. She loved the feeling of the cool liquid running past her skin. It reminded her of the silvery bark upon the majestic Seije, the royal trees set upon the entrance of the Hall of Nrida. Ninety feet tall, they must have been, with bent boughs draped in silky, fragile leaves.
Morantwen's mind flashed back to earlier days. Her childhood self was running past the elegant structures, holding her kin and close friends. She had turned into a beautiful marble building where she saw her mother. Her name was Vanima, Queen of Aridan. She had been reading that day. In a beautiful dress, it was, emerald green and down to the floor. The bottoms of the sleeves barely grazed the floor. Vanima raised her head. She smiled as her as her bright green eyes twinkled and her daughter ran into her arms. Morantwen suddenly came out of her memoirs. Tears were slowly falling from her eyes as she closed them and shut out the terrorizing blue still lingering.
Sam had finished counting his mushrooms, (nineteen, if you're wondering), and was staring into the distance. Thinking about, well, what his Mr. Frodo was thinking. Sam missed home already. He thought of his old Gaffer, and what he would say about now. A small smile came upon his face. Nights at the Green Dragon Inn were coming back to him now. Drinking songs and kegs of beer until dawn was a favorite pastime and Sam was starting to miss the ale. He didn't know if he was ever going to taste Green Dragon rum anytime soon. He closed his eyes and lay against his pack.
Merry and Pippin were still whispering, emptying their minds of all questions.
"Why are we going to Bree?" asked Pippin.
"I wish I knew. But I don't have a clue."
"Yeah. One minute we're stealing vegetables then suddenly we're heading to the Brandywine Bridge. What was that thing anyway? That... 'Black Rider'?"
"That's what I'm tryin' to figure out. I have a feeling Frodo knows something. Before the rider came in the forest, I knew Frodo was going to tell me something," Merry whispered at a lower tone. He and Pippin then slowly looked at Frodo momentarily.
Meanwhile, Frodo was laying down on the other side of the raft. His cloak was pulled over him like a sheet. Since his face was directed toward the river, no one else knew that he really was not sleeping at all. His piercing blue eyes were wide open and twinkled like two dim candles, which is what someone might have thought they were. Even under his cloak, Frodo was shivering uncontrollably. Fortunately, it was cold that night. Yes, he thought. That would be his excuse. The true reason that he was shivering was that he was beyond scared. He was terrified. Frodo looked at the moon and exhaled silently. His head was starting to explode. Too many questions, he thought, no answers. Will I ever figure this out? Frodo put his hand to his mouth and started biting his fingernails. He had to do something to stop himself from screaming in frustration.
Morantwen's sharp ears picked up Frodo's nail biting. To her, it was like glass breaking compared to the silence. She put her hand to her head, closed her eyes, and bit her bottom lip. She then turned her head toward Frodo. Suddenly, a smile crept upon her face. Morantwen realized that there was something about Frodo that made her happy any time she even so much as glanced at him. Morantwen didn't understand why she felt this way except that maybe his heart was just so pure and innocent that he literally brought forth joy.
The young elf stared back into the water and saw the moon reflecting back at her. It mesmerized her. The moon seemed to be the only thing that was problem-free and glowing. Morantwen started to forget where she was. Moonlight engulfed her. She was being absorbed in a force mightier than any she had felt before. Suddenly, the raft stopped, knocking her thoughts out of mind. She looked up as she jumped from the unexpected jolt.
"The Brandywine Bridge," sighed Merry, standing and stretching. Pippin tied the raft to the dock as Sam crawled toward Frodo. Morantwen watched as Sam shook Frodo's shoulder gently.
"Wake up, Mr. Frodo. Sorry, but anyway, I don't know how you can sleep after what happened, no offense. A bit frightening, that was," he whispered as Frodo pretended to slowly awake. Morantwen watched for reason because she knew Frodo was never really sleeping in the first place. But she had to admit; he was good at disguising it.
Once everyone was up and off the raft, Frodo led his hobbit friends through the Old Forest as his elven friend followed close behind. They weaved through the trees and thickets until they reached the guarded gates of Bree. Unfortunately, during this time, it was pouring.
"Come on," said Frodo, over the rain. His eyes were glowing bright as his skin was turning pale from the increasing cold. Frodo, Sam, Pippin and Merry ran out, watching where they were going and where everything else was going. Morantwen walked a couple feet behind, her feet not even creating ripples in the puddles she walked upon. She saw Frodo knock as hard as he could against the door.