Character: Frodo and Sam
Disclaimer: Tolkien created Middle-earth and all who dwell therein.
Frodo coughed weakly, gasping in the thickened air he tried to shield his face with one hand. His throat itched, assaulted by the fine, whirling grit. Normally sure-footed, he caught his toes on something barely seen and stumbled, cursing feebly through parched lips. He must... have... water...
Streaming eyes, half-blinded by the frenzied billowing clouds, glimpsed a way ahead... water!
He grasped the kitchen pump-handle, working it furiously till the water flowed and he could douse his face.
Sam emerged from the dust storm, carpet-beater in hand.
“Oh sorry, Mr Frodo, I should ‘a warned you it was rug-beating day!”