At the Brandywine

Merry and Pippin sat at the end of dock, their legs dangling over the edge. The bright, late afternoon sunlight glinted off their curls as they sat with their heads bent, hard at work.

"And then you fold it like this ...no Pippin, the other way," Merry said, demonstrating.

Squinting, Pippin leaned closer and watched Merry intently before copying his instructions on his own bit of parchment. "Like this?" he asked, holding it up.

"That's right," Merry replied. "Then fold it once more the opposite way." He held up his carefully fashioned parchment. "See? It's a boat."

Pippin bit his lip, struggling to bend one particularly stubborn edge of the parchment. "Does this look good, Merry?" he asked hopefully, holding up the most lopsided, forlorn boat Merry had ever seen.

Merry took the boat into his hands and inspected it closely. "It looks wonderful, Pip," he pronounced, making his cousin grin with pride. "Let's see how well it sails," he added before he carefully leaned over and placed both boats in the water.

The cousins stood together, watching as their boats bobbed momentarily in the water swirling around the dock, before they flowed swiftly down the river, disappearing from sight.