Early the next morning just as the Sun was beginning to peek over the land, two fisher-hobbits--brothers from Standelf--took their father's wagon to the banks of the Brandywine River as they did every morning at this time. They were about to cast their large net into the river to fish, when they came upon a most gruesome discovery. There was a body of a male hobbit floating face-down in the river, obviously drowned.

Once their own horror at finding such a sight was contained, the pair were able to wade hip-deep into the cold water and use their fishing nets to retrieve and haul the body ashore. Not knowing who this strange gentlehobbit was or where he'd come from, the fisher-hobbits placed the stout body into the back of their wagon and covered it with the tarp they normally used to cover the day's catch with. Clenched tight in the rigorous hand of the gentlehobbit was a mud-spattered, water-logged red hair ribbon. The fisher-hobbits scanned the area with their keen eyes, but they did not see anyone else in or around the river and its banks that could have belonged to the mysterious hair ribbon.

After a brief discussion, it was decided that the body of the gentlehobbit should be brought to Brandy Hall whereas perhaps the identity of the hobbit was known and the Master of Buckland could properly notify the gentlehobbit's family. They never suspected just how close to home their unexpected and tragic news would hit all of the Hall.

Following the course of the winding river north towards Brandy Hall, the fisher-hobbits eventually came upon an overturned rowboat floating by a copse of overhanging willow trees. The red boat's tow rope was snagged in between the forked branches of one of the trees.

"That there's a Brandybuck boat," one of the fisher-hobbits called out to his brother, who'd remained with the wagon. Being uneducated, they were unable to read the little boat's name painted on the stern, but they were able to recognize the family crest of the Brandybuck family etched into the wood planking of the prow. Tying the overturned boat so that it was more securely moored to the tree, the brothers left it there for the time being. They could come back and retrieve it after they'd seen to the body of the poor drowned hobbit.

* * * * *

Rorimac Brandybuck was utterly stunned. He sat alone on the front stoop to the main entrance of his family's ancestral home staring at the cold, sodden, and lifeless body of his brother-in-law. Drogo's normally ruddy cheeks were grey; his lips, nose, ears, and extremities a purplish-blue. His clothing was torn in places and silt from the Brandywine was clumped in the dark curly hair of his head and feet. His entire body (substantial even for a hobbit) was swollen with absorbed water. The unmistakable stench of death rent the otherwise fresh Spring air.

Rory simply could not believe the sight in front of him. This couldn’t be Drogo Baggins, the wealthy but shy and quiet gentlehobbit who’d fallen deeply in love with his baby sister …... and yet it was.

The fisher-hobbits' words ran through his mind over and over, repeatedly. "I'm sorry Mr. Brandybuck, sir. But we was out fer our mornin' catch, you see an' we found this here poor soul floatin' face-down along the path of the river. We pulled 'im out an' figurin' he's a gentlehobbit, we'd thought you or one o' yours might know who he is, sir. We also found an overturned boat 'bout a quarter mile up river from where we found this poor sir. 'Twas definitely a Brandybuck boat, Master Brandybuck. A red one. We'll go back an' retrieve it fer ye, if ye like ...."

Letting out a chocked cry of anguish, Rory clenched his hand around the sodden hair ribbon. One of the fisher-hobbits had pressed it into his hand before they left to retrieve the missing boat. He'd automatically accepted it without even looking to see what it was that he held, quite disturbed that the fisher-hobbits denied seeing Primula anywhere on their journey to the Hall.

When he looked down to see one of his beloved baby sister's favorite hair ribbons in his hand, he suddenly felt overwhelmed with a multitude of feelings. He also felt very old.

Primula. His youngest sister and sibling. Where was she? She would never have left Drogo's side, not on purpose at any rate. What fate had befallen her? Was she drowned too? Or was she lying hurt somewhere, unable to send word or get help?

He'd never even realized they were missing, Rory thought bitterly, full of a sudden burst of anger. His fist clenched the ribbon even tighter until he was white-knuckled.

The servant who had awoken him at the fisher-hobbits' insistence came to stand beside his unusually silent master. He folded his hands together, then unfolded them and shoved them deep into his pockets, not knowing what else to do. Several long minutes later, the Master of Buckland stood up with a heavy sigh and re-covered dear Drogo's face with the corner of the tarp.

"Jarle, will you please take care of--" Rory took a deep breath, fighting back the tears and anguished sobs that wished to gush forth. Now was not the time for him to weep. There would be plenty of time for tears later; for now, he needed to be strong. He needed to act his part as the Master, no matter who it was that had died tragically ... no matter who it was that was still missing.

"Jarle, please take care of bringing Drogo's body inside. You may place him wherever you see fit to for now. After he has been cleaned and made proper, he may be laid over ice blocks in an empty guest suite to lie in state, until funeral arrangements can be made. I-I must see to my brothers and sisters, gather a search party together to find Primula, and then I ....... and then I must see to little Frodo," he whispered the last. How do I tell a child--my nephew--that his dear father has been drowned dead and ... and that his beautiful mother is missing?

His own father had prepared him for many things for the inherited position of Master, but never this.

The servant nodded his head sadly. He did not envy his Master's tasks. Today will be a hard one for all, he thought sadly. Mr. Drogo had been the nicest of hobbits. And what of poor Missus Primula?

Nearly an hour later, Rory found himself standing in front of his oldest son's front door. He'd left his youngest brother, Dinodas, in charge of overseeing the search for their missing sister and the general running of the Hall, while he himself prepared himself to do what would forever be the hardest thing he'd ever have to do in his life. With a heavy heart he knocked on Saradoc's round door, the noise sounding heavy and ominous to his own ears ....

* * * * *

Later that Night ...

To: Bilbo Baggins, Esquire & Master of Bag End