Drogo

Drogo Baggins didn't know how it had all come down to this. He held Primula's limp body tight in one arm whilst he tried desperately to grasp the slippery hull of their overturned boat with the other. He once more kicked with his legs against the strong current, struggling to keep his head and Primula's above the water. The boat remained just out of reach.

"Help!" he yelled as loud as he could, sputtering in the chilly water. "Somebody help!"

Having rowed out to their favorite spot on the river, the hobbit couple had been enjoying drifting down the moon-lit river on a gentle current. They had been holding hands and cuddling close to one another on the same bench underneath a warm blanket, as they always did, when all of the sudden a swarm of bats flew over them on their way to hunt from a nearby cave that had been formed long ago by a sinking stream.

Deemed symbols of the night, bats were considered to be of a foreboding nature and Primula had screamed when she had felt one of the supposed dark creatures tangle itself in her long hair. Taken unawares, she had stood up rather abruptly in an effort to dislodge the evil thing, shrieking when it remained fast in her curls. The weight in the small boat had suddenly been unevenly distributed and it had dipped to one side, causing the oars to slip out of their locks and Primula to fall into the cold water, knocking her head severely on a submerged boulder, unbeknownst to her husband at first.

Knowing his wife could swim very well, Drogo had concentrated his efforts on regaining the oars before they were lost to them completely and they had no way of getting back to shore. The swarm of bats had flown off as quick as they had appeared, in search of insects and fruit. The wild rocking of the boat had stopped and Drogo had waiting with baited breath for his wife to reappear.

"Primmie?" he had called out nervously, peering over the side of the boat. When she hadn't appeared, Drogo had grown scared. "Primula?" he'd yelled, his troubled brown eyes scanning the still waters of the wide river.

Drogo had heard a dull thump sound on the hull of the boat and he had leaned over the opposite side of the hull to see his beloved wife of over twenty years float up from the depths of the river. She had been face-down in the water.

Drogo had tried in vain to grab her and haul her into the boat, but the currents of the river were growing stronger and she had drifted just out of his reach. With no thoughts to his own safety, as he was a very poor swimmer indeed, Drogo had pushed himself into the water (overturning the boat in his haste) and dog-paddled until he was able to reach Primula.

Turning her over, he'd gasped as he had caught sight of her face in the light from the Moon. Primula had been very pale, save for the large bruise forming at her temple where she'd apparently struck a large river rock. Blood had begun to well and flow from the unsightly wound and Drogo had begun to panic when he could not wake his wife by calling out to her. He hadn't been able to tell in the dark water, but it had looked as if she were not breathing.

Securing Primula under his right arm so that her head was above the water, Drogo had tried to swim back to the boat. The overturned boat had drifted farther and farther away from him until he had been quickly exhausted by his efforts. The boat's tow rope had trailed behind, as if mocking him that he could reach out for it and grab hold.

When he had been able to swim no further, Drogo had started yelling for help, praying that someone ... anyone would be able to hear him. But no one ever came.

An undertow had taken them farther down the Brandywine and it was all the hobbit could do to keep himself and Primula afloat in the water. His flailing limbs were constantly getting entangled in his wife's long skirts and the burden of both their sodden clothes was weighing them down. Primula had not regained consciousness and Drogo was quickly losing his own struggle to survive. The cold water chilled his limbs until they were numb and he could barely feel his fingers close around Primula. His head slipped under the water and panicking, he breathed some in, coughing and choking when he fought to breach the surface.

Suddenly, Primula's body was ripped away from his numb, unfeeling fingers. The laces of her dress had been snagged by an overhanging tree limb and she remained bobbing facedown in place, whilst he was forced to continue on downstream in the river's unrelenting and cold grasp. The only part of her that remained clenched in his hand was the red velvet ribbon that had been tied into her beautiful thick curls.

"PRIMULA!!!" he sobbed, choking on the water he swallowed. All the poor hobbit could do was struggle to keep afloat and watch in heart-wrenching agony as his beloved wife faded from his view as he flowed ever southward down the quickening river's currents.

Drogo's head once again slipped beneath the black surface of the cold water and he held his breath, but he no longer possessed the strength to struggle back to the surface. Frodo was now the only thing his stubborn Baggins' will fought to keep alive for, as Primmie would surely die now ... if she hadn't already. As he sank like a stone, Drogo flailed about under the water in his panic. He didn't know it, but this was the wrong thing to do, as it used up more of his body's limited oxygen supply until there was no more left. His body's natural breathing reflex increased to the point where he tried to breathe, even though he knew he was still submerged.

Drogo gave one last weak struggle to reach upward, knowing this was his last chance. His throat, which had at first felt like it was closing up, relaxed. Feeling his lungs disconcertedly fill with cold water instead of life-giving air, Drogo's last conscious thought was of his only child, safely tucked into a warm bed back at Brandy Hall under the care of the Brandybucks.

* * * * *