At the River

Waist-deep in the Brandywine, Merimac held the giggling child high in the air. Frodo looked for his parents and found them seated beneath a tall tree on the shore, smiling and waving at him. Taking advantage of the lad’s momentary distraction, Merimac loosened his grasp, allowing Frodo to slide slightly toward the water.

Frodo slipped through the air with a shriek. A rushing noise pounded in his ears and Frodo, so certain that he would fall into the river with a splash, thought he felt the water wetting his toes, even though he was quite safe in Merimac’s loose but secure hold.

The golden water swirling below drew closer, and Frodo squeezed his eyes shut, his arms flailing. At what seemed to be the last possible moment, Merimac’s hands tightened and he lifted the child up again.

Frodo laughed, reaching toward the cloudless sky with the sunlight at his back.