"To the Place We Stand"

A/N: I've read a lot of LotR/Harry Potter crossovers, and have written a few myself, but several o those stories dealt with parodies and humorous situations,, or of Harry being sent to Middle-earth as an El or to help the Fellowship during the War of the Ring. Writing this story, I wanted to write things a little differently—a story that hopefully mirrors the serious lessons of life that Tolkien and Jo wrote in their own (and I take LotR very seriously—it's like my second Bible). Obviously it'll be a Harry-and–Frodo-centered story, since they are my favorite characters from their respective franchises, and there will be no slash—only a few pairings that will hopefully surprise you.

Enjoy!

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~"Of house-elves and children's tales, of love, loyalty, and innocence, Voldemort knows and understands nothing. Nothing. That they all have a power beyond his own, a power beyond any reach of magic, is a truth he has never grasped."~

-Albus Dumbledore

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Chapter 1: Meetings

They were, without a doubt, the three strangest-looking creatures Harry had yet seen. They looked like boys at first glance, with their small statures and young faces; at second glance one might notice that they really weren't boys at all, but rather young men; on the third glance, if they were still there to see, one would see they were not, in fact, even human, though they were certainly humanoid. They were small, only about three or four feet tall, with thick curly hair that ranged from a dark golden blonde to a light brown, and all three had ears that ended in fine, delicate points. The strangest of all their features, however, were their feet, which were quite large and bare and covered with thick calluses and hair.

He tried not to stare as he ate his breakfast, but he still found himself looking at them despite his best efforts, and he hated himself for it. As Harry freaking Potter he was all too familiar with the sensation of being gawked at. Well, at least he wasn't like Ron, who was openly staring at the three strangers, his food shockingly forgotten, or several others of the Great Hall who were doing the same thing. Hermione, however, seemed perfectly content to read her latest book, Muggles and Magic: Harmonious or Harmful? and ignored all proceedings that went on around her.

"Merlin," Ron muttered. "Where do you suppose those guys have come from?"

"Dunno," Harry replied quietly, and looked down at his plate again with an effort.

"They showed up last night," Luna Lovegood's voice piped up from behind them, and they jumped and together swung around to find their Ravenclaw friend standing there, looking just as dreamy and odd as always, but Harry smiled.

"Hi, Luna."

"Hello, Harry Potter," she said brightly, and slid onto the bench beside them; she stole a piece of bacon off of Ron's plate and bit into it with all the fervor of a starving person. "Mmmm," she hummed. "The bacon over here is excellent—nice and crispy."

"You said they came last night?" Harry asked curiously, and looked back over to where the three creatures sat in a corner of the Great Hall, clearly in the middle of a quiet but heated discussion. They seemed utterly oblivious to the several pairs of eyes that stared at them. He hastily turned away again.

"Oh yes," Luna said vaguely, focusing on her bacon as she twirled it with her fingers. "Caused quite a raucous, too—disrupted the Nargles badly. It seems they've lost someone important to them and have been debating on how to get him back."

"How do you know that?" Ron asked, sounding dubious.

She giggled and ate the rest of her bacon. "I asked them, silly," she replied. At their equal looks of amazement, she rolled her eyes slightly. "They really are quite friendly, you know, even if they are worried. Come on—I'll introduce them to you."

"Ah—n-no thanks, Luna," Ron stammered quickly, looking rather intimidated by the thought of meeting them. "I have to finish my breakfast, you know—"

"Well, then, you come with me, Harry!" she said eagerly.

Harry, too, was tempted to back out, but he decided he would humor Luna; after the events of last year—and his heart clenched painfully at the memories—it was the least he could do for her in return for the danger he had placed her in. "Alright," he said, and pushed his meal aside. Luna beamed at him and sprang up, causing Hermione to glare up at her with a disgruntled look, having lost her place in her book due to Luna's abrupt movements.

Approaching the lone tables, Harry felt his nervousness grow. He almost wanted to back out but decided it was too late now. As they walked closer, he began to hear snippets of their council.

"—but we can't just leave him there!" one was protesting fiercely.

"Of course we won't, Pip!" another whispered, looking shocked at the very idea. "But you heard what the Headmaster said last night—we can't simply walk in and grab him."

"I they hurt him…" the third said slowly, and he trailed off, but there was little doubt of what he was implying. The second speaker looked over at the third but instead of reprimanding the rather violent words he nodded agreement. Then he noticed Luna and Harry approaching and cleared his throat meaningfully, then straightened in his seat.

"Miss Luna," he said politely, but his smile—while genuine—was rather strained. "What can we do for you?"

Luna smiled at him. "Good morning, Mr. Merry," she said, quite comfortable with the three. Harry hung back. "Had any luck with finding him?"

"No," came the tired reply, and Harry could hear the heavy worry that was lacing the otherwise collected tone.

"Harry," Luna said, and he walked up to her side. She was motioning to each of the three creatures in turn. "This is Merry Brandybuck," the second speaker, "Pippin Took," the first speaker, "and Sam Gamgee." The third speaker. "And for the three of you, this is Harry Potter."

"A boy?" Pippin asked with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows, and Harry felt his face flush and the forwardness of the teasing, causing the one called Merry to snicker.

"He's my friend," Luna stated proudly, and Harry felt himself flush even more.

"A shy friend at that," the one called Sam said.

"No more than you are around Rose Cotton, Sam," Merry remarked wryly, and Sam shut his mouth, blushing a little himself. "Or were, anyway, considering that you've finally spoken."

"Who's Rose Cotton?" Luna asked interestedly.

"Sam's sweetheart back home," Pippin said. "He's fancied her for years, but was always too shy to say anything about it until recently."

"After Frodo finally talked some sense into him," Merry muttered, grinning.

"Mr. Frodo didn't tell me nothin'!" Sam protested. "He just—just—"

"Dear old Frodo merely told you what an ass you were being, refusing to speak," Pippin finished with a sly look to his eyes. "Smart, our older cousin is. I was wondering how long it would take him to decide enough was enough, you know, and I'm only surprised it took him so long."

"Who's Frodo?" Harry asked, finally seating himself beside Luna.

"Mine and Pip's older cousin," Merry explained, "by several years, in fact. He's head of the Baggins family. He came with us here, but didn't end up landing where we did." His gaze grew worried again.

"Where did you come from?"

"The Shire, Mr. Harry," Sam said shortly. "Greenest, most fertile earth you'll ever hope to see."

Harry frowned. "I've never heard of the Shire."

"It's because it doesn't exist now," Luna explained, gazing up at the ceiling and watching the enchanted ceiling. "They've time-jumped, Harry," she said when he shot her a confused look, "by a matter of several thousand years and maybe even a dimension or two, but that doesn't really matter."

"How do you know that?" Harry finally exclaimed.

She smiled again. "I asked them," she said simply.

"'Deed she did," Sam agreed. "Pretty wise in her own right, Mr. Harry—best to remember that."

"I know," Harry replied, and meant it. He was surprised to notice, too, that he was relaxing in these creatures' company, something he rarely did around strangers. But they looked fairly harmless in his opinion, and there was something about them that put him at ease. Then he realized something that was bothering him. "Er—if you don't mind me asking, but… what do you call yourselves, anyway?"

Merry chuckled. "I suppose we are called by several names," he said thoughtfully. "Perian, holbytla, halflings, the 'little people'… but we call ourselves hobbits."

"Ooooh, that sounds like fun to say!" Luna exclaimed. "Hobbit, hobbit, hobbit, hobbit…" she sang to herself.

Harry grinned and turned back to the three 'hobbits' who were looking at Luna in surprise and, in Pippin's case, amusement. "You'll get used to her," he chuckled.

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"Hobbits." Hermione frowned to herself. "Hobbits. I've never heard of a word like that. I've never even heard of a people calling themselves that." Still lost in thought, she stirred her potion counter-clockwise, which was a bright blue. She and Harry stood together in Potions, talking quietly above the clanking of the stirrers and the hissing of the flames. Harry had opted to stand with Hermione to discuss the school's visitors, hoping she would know something about them, leaving Ron to pair up with someone else.

"You haven't?" He was surprised and disappointed.

She shook her head. "No."

"Well," he said slowly, thinking back, "Luna did say they had come from another time, and maybe even a different dimension…"

The look on Hermione's face clearly said what she thought of Luna's explanation, but she did not speak. It was just as well she didn't because at that moment Snape, the professor of the class, swept up to them with his customary scowl.

"Gossiping in class, Potter?" he sneered. "Ten points from Gryffindor—this is a classroom, not a corridor."

Harry was opening his mouth to angrily protest Snape's unfairness, but Hermione stomped on his foot discreetly, cutting him off.

"Don't," she whispered as Snape walked away. "Don't give him the right to give you a detention."

Harry glared but did as she said.'No detention could be as bad as the toad's,' he thought darkly to himself. But Snape's detentions were notoriously difficult, and it didn't help that Harry's hatred of the potions professor had only grown since Sirius had…

Hermione's sharp intake of breath brought him out of his dark thoughts and he saw she was staring in wide-eyed surprise at the doorway of the classroom. Following her gaze, Harry's jaw nearly dropped.

"Severus," Albus Dumbledore said gravely as he walked in, "it is most urgent that I speak with you." He ignored the gaping students, which surprised Harry even more.

Snape blinked, the only sign of his surprise. Then he turned to the students. "Class is dismissed!" he barked. "Clean up and leave. Your assignment is to write an essay on the properties of the Draught of Living Death and its uses, five feet in length and to be placed on my desk on Monday."

Everyone scrambled to do as ordered, carefully keeping silent about how they felt about Snape's assignment until they left. Even Hermione did not seem excited about the length of the paper; or maybe she was simply still thrown by the presence of the Headmaster.

As everyone else left, however, Harry stayed where he was. Hermione tried to get him to leave but he ignored her.

"Potter! Granger!" Snape snarled. "What did you not understand about 'leave'?"

Hermione backed away but Harry turned to Dumbledore. "Sir," he said quietly, "is this about Merry and Pippin and Sam?"

Dumbledore did not seem surprised that Harry had already met the hobbits and merely nodded. "I am afraid so." He turned to Snape. "Severus, call the others to my office—quickly."

Hermione caught Harry's gaze curiously, clearly thinking along the same lines as he was. Whatever the problem, it was big enough to include the Order of the Phoenix.

"Harry."

Dumbledore's quiet voice caught his attention. The headmaster was looking at him, clearly wanting to make a request.

"Yes, Professor?"

"Harry, I would like you to find our three guests and bring them to my office as well. The password is 'Fizzing Whizbees'. Go along now—be quick."

Harry started to move, then another thought occurred to him and he stopped. "Professor Dumbledore?"

"Yes?"

He hesitated. "The others tell me they're supposed to be another with them—someone called 'Frodo'. Where is he? Have you found him?"

To his surprise, Dumbledore paused as if unprepared for his question—then he sat heavily onto the desk behind him, looking suddenly old and tired, and Harry realized, with an icy surge of horror, where this 'Frodo' was even before Dumbledore opened his mouth to reply.

"He's been taken by Voldemort."