Holo! Sorry I'm a newly discovered holosexual, no I didn't misspell that. So, this is the second chapter of this story. How have you all been? Oh, you just want to read the story? Well okay then, see you at the end of the chapter.

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Title: That One Time I Met a Hobbit

Summary: She did not have a saving-people-thing, thank you very much Hermione. Okay, so she somehow got reborn, got herself tangled with a ranger and hobbits, fought medieval sword-wielding dementors, offended a lot of elves and agreed to go to The Land of Doom and Gloom™ to throw a ring in some fire so Voldemort 2.0 wouldn't come back and enslave the whole world, as all evil Lords do. It means nothing, absolutely nothing.

Warnings: profanity, blood, death, possibility of smut, Harley being a dick to elves, crossdressing, bad attempts at humor, elves are boring, still a witch Harley, Master of Death Harley, female Harry, Death likes to visit, the definitely not dementors, immortality is a serious problem, the author tries

Pairings: to be decided (gonna be Boromir/Harley or Aragorn/Harley)

Progress: 2/ ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Beta: VRISKA

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings franchises and their characters belong to their respective owners. This is a piece of fan-authored fiction created without material gain or for the purpose of infringement of ownership rights. The author retains ownership of only the original plot and characters. No profit was made or intended through the creation of this piece of fiction, merely entertainment.

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Chapter Two – Not Dementors

She trailed silently after the small company. She was naturally light on her feet, but a small Silencio* and her footsteps couldn't be heard even by elven ears. Another charm tied to her boots changed her footprints to that of a wolf, a small nod to a big black dog she once knew. With her dark cloak, she easily blended with the dark woods, but with shouts of 'Constant vigilance!' ringing in her ear a Notice-Me-Not charm was put in place. She trailed after them unnoticed by neither man, hobbit nor medieval dementor.

As she followed them, she took to either erasing or hiding the trail they left behind. Strider was good and barely left anything worth following, but the hobbits were not used to walking silently. Their footsteps were heavy and left deep imprints on the soft ground. They made no effort to avoid small branches and leaves, leaving them behind for her to either vanish or repair. Still, she knew she was only buying them time. A confrontation was unavoidable at this point. Thankfully it seemed like the Riders could clearly sense the ring only when it was worn. But even this bought them only so much time. She might slip, or the hobbits might do something stupid or the Nazgûl might just track them down.

The hobbits were trailing after Strider about four paces behind - their distrust could almost be felt. This came to her as no surprise. Strider looked like a shady character. She almost laughed out loud when Strider revealed to the hobbits he could hear their whispered mistrust. She knew the man was feeling smug even if he was probably wearing his usual poker face. The genuine enthusiasm one of them showed when he found out he was going to see the elves had her hackles rising.

She disliked elves on principle. The whole immortal species shtick they thought they had going on was disturbing to her. She could clearly remember all of the Dark Lords from her last life who were very obsessive when it came to immortality. She immediately associated immortality with megalomaniacs with delusions of grandeur. It seemed as a trend of sorts for them. 'How to be a Dark Lord 101.' It didn't put the allegedly immortal species in her good books. But besides, even that there was her association with death. It was possible she spent too much time in Dean's presence, but she saw anything that avoided death as something that needed a one-way ticket to a one on one meeting with the aforementioned being. Her feelings aside, she still had a job to do.

They had been walking for a few hours already and it was quite apparent how tired the hobbits were from the increased amount of complaining. Either they weren't aware of just how much danger they were in, or they were trying to make the situation lighter in order to deal with it easier. Luckily for them, Strider was aware and kept pushing them forward the whole day while giving them minimal breaks to rest and drink some water.

She couldn't sense the Riders but she was sure they weren't far behind. Even with her best efforts, the group still left behind a trail and all she could do was make it harder to follow. With night slowly falling she knew the Nazgûl would get a chance to catch up. According to the few stories she had heard about them, they were more suited to the dark and didn't need sleep or food. Strider and the hobbits, on the other hand, would have to stop for the night. It would be too dangerous and tiring to continue.

They stopped in the swamps - the environment would serve to slow down the black horses. She climbed up one of the few trees close to the small camp and got comfortable. She had a good view of the surrounding area and the small camp. Strider left the hobbits to set up camp while he hunted. Once he was back with a young deer thrown over his shoulder, she set up a few small wards. Nothing that would keep the Nazgûl out, but it should make the camp harder to spot and would alert her once someone came within them.

As soon as the hobbits were full they fell asleep. Aragorn stayed up and stared at the stars. Just as she was about to fall asleep, he started to sing. It was an elven song. His words were sad and heavy and she listened carefully to the words. Lúthien, the first elf to marry a human. It was a peculiar choice considering their current situation. She was sure there was some sort of deeper meaning behind his choice, but now was not the time to ask. Perhaps once they were safe.

"Who is she?" The question startled them both. They turned to Frodo. "This woman that you sing of."

Aragorn turned away. A long moment of silence passed. Finally, Strider answered, his voice heavy. She was sure he was afraid he would accidentally reveal too much to the hobbit. From his answer, she could guess that the story was somehow closer to him than it might first appear. It wasn't a song he chose merely because he liked it. It had a hidden meaning or perhaps he related to the tragic story. He told Frodo to go to sleep. Strider stayed up for a few more moments, mumbling something she couldn't hear before he did the weirdest thing - he simply went to sleep. Strider got comfortable and fell asleep. He didn't stay up to guard the camp. Her eyes narrowed down at the black lump that was a softly-snoring Strider. The bastard knew she was following them! She doubted Strider would risk sleeping without a guard if he wasn't completely sure she was following them. She was tempted to throw a rock at the man, instead she settled down for a light nap with a huff.

The next morning, they continued their journey. The Hobbits didn't complain nearly as much after a full night's rest, especially once they were out of the swamps. The rocky terrain seemed to suit them far better, possibly because there was no danger of them falling face first into the earthy sludge that covered the bottom of the swamp lakes. The new terrain made it harder for her to blend in with the surroundings and the Notice-Me-Not charm could only help her so much. The charm worked by redirecting others' attention away from you and to their surroundings. Which was hard in a field where you were the only upright thing for miles, you stuck out like a hippogriff in a herd of acromantulas. She was forced to keep her distance from the company so that she could hide behind the few giant grey rocks that dotted the landscape. Since she was fairly certain Strider knew she was following them, she wasn't sure why she was going through all the effort. Possibly to help the hobbits feel a bit more at ease with only one stranger walking with them.

They decided to rest at the watchtower of Amon Sûl. At this point, the ruins of Amon Sûl. The watchtower had been built on possibly the only hill for miles. The hill, with its 1000 feet of height would have been impressive anywhere else, but in this flat grassland it seemed like the highest point of the world. It was a magnificent sight. The view from the tower must be brilliant. She couldn't wait to see the sunset from the top. She knew the tower had been immensely significant at some point in history, but looking at it now gave her a feeling of melancholy. She had known war in her last life. One Dark Lord after another had risen and left a path of destruction behind. What happened to this watchtower could happen to all of Middle-Earth.

This is why she felt the need to follow Strider and the hobbits. She liked Middle-Earth. Thigs were simpler here, more peaceful. The world was so vast here, so much was unexplored so many things still had to be discovered. There was so much land covered in forest and grass. While magic wasn't quite as thick here, it was…different. She wasn't sure how to put it into words, but the magic here seemed … More playful, more alive, yes. Perhaps it was more open to answering her call, or maybe it was just easier to command it, she wasn't sure. At times the natural magic seemed to tug on her as if to show her something new or to show off in a way. She loved it here and she didn't want to lose that. She would give it her all to help in the war.

She had been so lost in thought she didn't notice how far Strider and the hobbits have gone. With a new sort of dedication and firmness in her step she hurried after the company. She would help them win this damn war even if she had to drag that despicable ring to the fiery pits of hell herself. They found shelter in a cliff cave under the tower just as the sun started to set. Unfortunately, dark clouds gathered in the meantime and Harley couldn't enjoy the sunset. She settled among the rocks near the cave. The company was out of her sight, but thankfully she could still hear them. She settled down for a quick snack of some bread and dried meat while Strider gave each hobbit a weapon for self-defense. With a word of warning, he left them to scout the area. This convinced her even more that he was aware of her presence.

She got comfortable among the rocks while keeping an eye on the surrounding plains. Back in her first life, there had been many wars. Most had been short. After she killed Riddle, his followers scattered. It took them years to find them all. During that time, many had banded together and some tried to take over the role of the leader. They had been disorganized, and with many trying to become the next Dark Lord, they fought a lot amongst themselves. The few times they managed to band together for an attack, they had been quickly taken care of and most were killed during the battle. She supposed those weren't actual wars, just battles, but they sure felt that way at the time.

During those years, she got tired of all the fighting and her health, both mental and physical, suffered. She remembered many people fussed over her, their faces blended together in a blur now, but the worry in their eyes had been genuine. That is when she decided to become a healer. Most of Riddle's followers had been taken care off by then, and she felt like she could afford leaving the rest to others. Her skill in both battle and healing made her essential in the wars that followed. There had been three or four other wars in that lifetime. She couldn't quite remember. Two had been short, she remembered that much, but it was possible two wars blended together in her memory. The longest one had lasted six years. She could only hope Middle-Earth wouldn't suffer the same faith.

"What are you doing?!" Frodo's voice broke through her haze of memories. Her eyes narrowed immediately. One of the other three answered something she didn't quite catch. There was a fire crackling.

"Oh, no", she whispered. She could hear Frodo telling them to put it out and someone stomping the wood. A horrible shriek cut through the brisk night air. Her breath caught in her throat, a shiver went down her spine and she could feel goosebumps stand up over her skin. It was too late. They found them. She looked down and there they were. Dark shapes in cloaks gliding through the low fog towards them. Shit. There was going to be a battle and Strider was gone. Strider was gone and the hobbits would be of more trouble than help. Fuck, shit.

She kept to the shadows as the hobbits scrambled towards the top of the tower. They gathered in a circle in the middle of the tower. A long moment of tense silence passed before the Nazgûl crept out of the darkness. One moment it was just her and the hobbits, the other, five cloaked figures melted from the shadows. Their steps seemed to boom in the quiet darkness. The sound of steel dragging against steel as they took out their swords sent chills down everyone's back. The hobbits started backing away as the five moved in unison. To the hobbits, it felt as if Death himself came down to strike them. Harley felt her muscles tighten in anticipation as the five figures pointed their swords at the hobbits. She could see the hobbits strain under the pressure, fear pouring from them.

It was Sam who cracked first. His fear turned to anger and with a shout he swung at them. There was no goal behind the swing, no true intent besides urgency to do something, anything. Harley jumped into action. The Nazgûl had one goal in mind, the ring. Sam was tossed aside like a discarded rag doll. A whisper fell from her lips: "Expecto Patronum." She wasn't sure how effective it would be. It would be a distraction at worst. Merry and Pippin too were tossed aside just as Prongs and Padfoot sprang forth. Frodo, in his fear, dropped his sword and stumbled, falling on his back.

.

The Black Riders loomed over him and just as one of them stepped towards him, a white and blue mist was in front of him and the Nazgûl was slammed back. It let out a loud hiss of anger, but it no longer sent shivers down everyone's spines. It was now replaced with a feeling of warmth and protection. Another figure cloaked in darkness stepped in front of him. This one stood firmly, facing the Black Riders as they moved and hissed at it. For a moment, Frodo was sure it was Strider standing protectively above him, but then the gleaming hilt caught his eye. The golden hilt with rubies gleamed almost gleefully in the small amount of moonlight they had. Frodo stared at the new fighter in awe, and no small amount of fear.

.

When Frodo fell, Padfoot and Prongs sprang into action. Prongs slammed into the advancing Nazgûl. Pushing it back with his horns, it gave a loud hiss. Padfoot was right next to him, growling, his hackles raised. She stepped from the shadows after them. Gryffindor's sword gleamed in her hand. She doubted it would be able to permanently kill them, Basilisk venom or not, but it sure as hell would sting like a bitch. She heard Frodo gasp behind her. They all stood in a tense silence, waiting for the other side to make the first move. The only sound was that of Padfoot's growling. He took a step forward his nails clanking against the stone, Prongs snorted and lowered his head. She tightened her hold of the golden hilt, the Nazgûl glided away from each other in hopes of circling her.

Padfoot sprang first. With a loud growl, he jumped towards the nearest one, his maw wide open. Prongs followed, he slammed another with its horns into a pillar, the thing screeching as it was pierced. One made a dash towards Frodo and she threw a Bombarda his way, throwing the damn thing backwards. With a spin, she faced the last two. It was a flurry of movement from there. She slashed at the two, dodged and defended. She ducked and rolled away from their swords. She was aware of Padfoot clamping his teeth deep in an arm before being slammed away with a loud yowl. Prongs still had his opponent against the pillar.

At some point, Strider was there with a war cry. In one hand was his sword while in the other was a flaming branch. They stood back to back now as two Black Riders circled them. By some unspoken command, they both turned and switched positions taking on the Black Rider behind them. This gave them just a moment of surprise, but it was all they needed. They had the upper hand now. More movements, more dodging followed. She felt satisfaction as her sword cut deeply. The Nazgûl backed away with a loud screech of pain. Her victory was short lived as another scream joined it, this one came from a hobbit.

The fifth Black Rider stood over Frodo, his sword was buried deep in the hobbit's shoulder. She foolishly forgot about it and it was going to cost them. She threw another Bombarda at it, this one hit the Rider directly in the chest and threw him off the tower. Another screeched as Aragorn set it on fire. She ran towards the wounded hobbit as Aragorn threw his flaming branch at the one still pinned against a pillar. Another screech followed. Now free, Prongs slammed into the last one and pushed it off the tower before both he and Padfoot turned back into mist.

She pushed the other three hobbits out of the way and kneeled next to Frodo. She was already tearing through his clothes to get a better look at the wound when Strider dropped on the hobbit's other side. "Can you heal him?" he asked softly.

"I don't know." Was the short reply. Harley's hands glowed a soft green as they hovered above the wound. "I can heal the wound itself, but that doesn't help with the poison. I have never encountered this one. I will need to analyze the blade to see- " she looked up just as Strider held up the sword only to see it turn to dust. "Shit, fuck, stupid fucking-" she cut herself off. She turned back to the wound. She tried to analyze the poison but instead stumbled upon something else. "There is a small piece of the blade still left in the wound. It is still poisoning him. I will have to extract it, it will be painful." Her green eyes captured Frodo's own and he gave a jerky nod.

"I will need warm water to clean the wound … Some rags too." She tacked on when she heard the other three hobbits moving around and things clinking together. Her eyes returned to Aragorn. "There is nothing I can do for the poison, I could try and extract it, but it has something magical in it. Simply extracting it wouldn't work." Aragorn nodded. "I will extract the shard and heal the wound. After that I can only slow the spreading down." Aragorn looked thoughtful for a second.

"Rivendell. The elves can help him." He swallowed. "We are six days away. Will he make it?" She nodded. Someone handed her a bowl of warm water and a clean rag and with a nod of thanks she got to work.

"If we travel swiftly he should be able to make it with time to spare." She tried to sound reassuring and to lighten the mood somewhat. Aragorn smiled slightly at her effort.

"Can I help somehow?"

"I need space and the others need to be calm. Keep the other three occupied." With a nod, he was gone from her sight and she set to work. First, she cleaned the blood around the wound with the rag. Frodo kept grunting in pain, but seemed to be holding back as much as he could. A small Accio later and the shard was in her hand, and Frodo let out a loud scream of pain. She could hear Sam protesting behind her, his steps coming towards her. Strider held him back and she could hear him whisper to the hobbits in a soothing tone. She sent her magic down Frodo's wound. With a command from her, his flesh began stitching itself together. When she removed her hands, the only thing left was a thin silver scar.

Frodo still looked pale. "Here." She soothed him as she brought a vial to his lips. "This will ease the pain but will make you drowsy." He gulped the potion in one go. "Sleep now." With a grateful look, he closed his eyes and with a little push from her magic he was in deep sleep. She prepared herself to do the rest. One hand was above the new scar while the other was above the hobbit's beating heart. Small tendrils of magic left her. She couldn't push too much magic into him or it might damage his body further, but a small amount should be harmless. As her magic set about battling and slowing down the poison, she leaned back on her heels and gave a loud sigh of relief.

"He will be fine for now." She said, gaining everyone's attention. "I can keep the pain away for a day at best." With that, she turned her toxic eyes to the others. "After that, he will only get worse. I can only keep the poison at bay for so long. We need to travel swiftly." She explained, more for the benefit of the hobbits than Strider. He nodded in understanding nonetheless.

"I will carry him. You three pack only the bare minimum." The three hobbits scrambled towards their packs and she stood up. Strider walked until he was standing right in front of her and she had to tilt her head back to see his face. "Tell me truthfully, my friend, will he make it?" His blue eyes were stormy as he searched hers.

She let out a long breath before answering. "I honestly do not know. I have never dealt with something like this before so I cannot say for certain." She gave a huff of frustration. "I can only promise to do all I can for him, nothing more."

"That is all I ask." Then he smiled softly down at her. "Well, my friend, it would appear this is your circus after all." He said with a small chuckle making her huff again, but this time in anger. His expression was serious again. "The stag and the wolf, what were they?" She tensed at the question. Where were those damn hobbits? This wasn't a nut she was willing to crack open, not right now, or ever if she were honest. She could always lie. "The truth, please." He must have seen something in her eyes. Damn, perhaps he knew her better than she thought.

"Magic." She breathed out the word slowly, tensely. He took a sharp breath.

"Are you …" A swallow. " … Are you like Gandalf?" A pause. "A wizard?" He tacked on quickly.

"No. No, I am not like Gandalf."

"Then what are you?" He asked and she had to suppress a flinch. She knew he didn't mean it in an insulting way, it just brought back some unwanted memories. Before she could even begin her explanation, a loud screech cut through the air between them. "Later, then. In Rivendell, when we are safe." He said and she nodded in agreement. It should give her enough time to form an actual answer. Just then, the hobbits were back with them and Strider had Frodo over his shoulders.

Soon they found themselves moving through a forest. Strider and Harley kept checking their surroundings while hurrying the hobbits along. They neither heard nor saw the Black Riders, but none of them doubted they were being followed even with their best efforts to hide their tracks and lose the dark figures somewhere in the forest.

"They seem to have fallen further back," she commented to Strider. "I doubt we have truly lost them in the forest."

"They are patient creatures." He explained. "Frodo was stabbed with a Morgul blade. If you hadn't been with us, I am sure he would have been in much pain and would be very cold by now." She looked to him as they walked, waiting for him to explain further. "Once stabbed with a Morgul blade, you start to pass into the shadow realm and if the shard is left too long the victim becomes a wraith." Her eyes widened at that.

"Then I must have missed a shard," she shook her head. "Or a part of it stayed in the wound. I should- "Strider cut her off.

"You have done all you could," he reassured. "The rest of the blade turned to dust, so perhaps some of the dust stayed in the wound. There is nothing you could have done. Only elves have enough knowledge to deal with this," he explained further. "You need to know you have done all you could and have increased Frodo's chances of survival immensely. And as you said there is still the poison to deal with." He gave her a meaningful look while her hands were still curled into fists.

"That doesn't make it any less frustrating," she said quietly.

"I know, friend. I know," he replied. With a loud breath, she let the tension drain from her shoulders and fists. Of course Strider understood. He could be considered a healer himself and he could do even less than her.

"We've been traveling for more than a full day," she said as she gazed at the hobbits stumbling in front of her. "They need a break." She turned back to Aragorn. "We all do and I need to check on him." Her eyes ran over Frodo's still form. Strider nodded.

"I know a place a little further ahead." They continued to walk through the woods. The hobbits weren't complaining, but their exhaustion was clear. At this point, everyone was tired and a break was unavoidable.

"Strider," she began, gaining his attention. "I have to ask. How did you know I was following you?" She asked and Strider gave her a smug grin.

"My friend," he paused to step over a large root. "Wolves cannot climb trees." He laughed. Harley pouted up at him. He must have sensed her mood because he laughed harder. The hobbits turned towards them now, curiosity coloring their faces. Strider hurried his steps. "Come on, you three, there is a place we shall rest at up ahead." Invigorated by that sentence, the hobbits, too, hurried their steps.

As Strider lowered Frodo down onto the ground, she stared at the three stone faces surrounding them. Three trolls stood petrified in different positions. They seemed as if they were arguing about something. There was a story there but now was not the time to ask. A pained inhale broke her out of her thoughts. "The time is up," she murmured to herself as she kneeled next to the hobbit.

"Is he going to die?" One of the other three asked, his voice breaking.

"No," she reassured. "Not yet, at least. But the journey will be harder for him now. I can no longer keep him under, the wound will be giving him trouble." She didn't outright say it, but the hobbits seemed to understand nonetheless. Frodo will be in pain from this point onwards and none of them could do anything about it.

She heard, but didn't see Strider crouch next to her. Screeches came from the woods all around them and Frodo's pained choke joined them. The others looked around in worry while Harley checked on Frodo with her magic. She left just a tiny bit more to slow down the poison. "There is a plant that might help slow the poison," Strider whispered to her. Green met worried grey. "Do you know what Athelas looks like?" She just nodded in answer. Strider turned to the hobbits just as she stood up and was walking out into the woods. "We will look for something to help Frodo, you three stay here and keep safe." She didn't wait to hear their answer.

As she scanned the ground, she went over a list of spells hoping to find one that will help their search. A Point-Me spell would point to the North, useless in this case. Accio was useless too. If she over-powered the spell she might get buried in dirt and weeds. On the other hand, if she under-powered the spell she could get nothing. They were stuck doing this the hard way.

.

Aragorn searched the ground as he walked. He knew Padfoot was near him even if he couldn't hear or see him. If it weren't for Padfoot, he knew things would have been much worse. But his arrival brought many questions with it. The mist that took the shape of a wolf and a stag, the golden sword and his healing powers. Healing powers he only caught glimpses of in the past. He knew Padfoot was a great healer, but he never saw him dealing with something as serious as this. Any other healer would have been useless, even most elven ones.

He kneeled down when one of the plants caught his eye. He checked again just to make sure. Athelas, just what they were looking for. He felt the cold kiss of steel against his neck. "What is this?" The voice was soft, musical and so very familiar. "A ranger, caught off his guard." There was a teasing undertone to it now. He slowly turned his head to look up at his captor, but another cloaked figure caught his attention.

There was a golden gleam and Arwen was tense, fear was clear in her eyes. "What is this?" This voice was sickeningly sweet. "An elf sticking their nose where it doesn't belong." It was mocking now "What a surprise." Sarcasm dripped from his words. Arwen just twitched, barely an indication of her intentions. "A-a-a," it was a tone reserved for misbehaving children "I wouldn't do that if I were you. This blade is quite venomous; all I need is a scratch." He took on a light tone as if speaking about the weather. "And unfortunately, I'm all out of antidote." Arwen was frozen now. The fear in her grey eyes was masked by a forced calm.

"Padfoot, stand down," he ordered. Captivating green eyes caught his. No one moved. "She's a friend," he explained. Green searched blue. Padfoot was not a trusting person.

"Some way to greet friends." He mocked before lowering his sword. Arwen let out a loud breath. The sword was out of sight in the next moment. "Did you find it?" Green met blue again. There was something in those eyes, something that didn't let you look away.

"Ay." Without another word, he handed over the plant. With a nod, Padfoot turned around and walked back to the hobbits.

"Quite an interesting friend you have there." Arwen's sword was back in its sheath. One of her hands was rubbing at her neck. "How come I didn't hear him coming?" She asked. There was no fear in her voice now, just curiosity.

"I do not know." It was a truthful answer. If Padfoot didn't want to be seen, he wasn't. Honestly, if he didn't know Padfoot as well as he did and if he didn't expect him to follow, he wouldn't have noticed anything wrong with the wolf tracks in the first place. "Come on. Let us get back to the others, I'll explain on the way." And so he did. He told her about finding the hobbits, the wraiths, Padfoot appearing and healing Frodo and his current condition. He left out a few details - details he still needed answers for.

When they got back, they found an all-four-bent-over Frodo. Padfoot's hands were gliding above the hobbit's torso as the other three waited anxiously. "He will be fine," Padfoot's voice was soft and reassuring. "The plant helped and the poison is slowing down." Suddenly green eyes held his. "He still needs help." They turned to Arwen now and then back to him. "What's the plan?"

Arwen answered before he could, "I will take him to my father."

.

Harley watched as Aragorn and the elf broke out into an argument in elvish. She listened carefully. They didn't need to know she could understand them. "I do not fear them," argued the female elf and Strider nodded his acceptance.

The five of them watched Frodo and the elf ride away until they could no longer see them. "What now?" Asked the one named Pippin.

"Now we continue for Rivendell and hope Frodo and Arwen make it safe." Strider looked around their small camp. "We'll stay the night and continue in the morning. Get some rest." With that, he settled down for first watch. He was too high-strung to fall asleep, they both were.

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And cut. That would be it for this chapter.

I wanted to ask you guys if you wanted to know more about Harley's first life. If you do, then there are two ways I can handle it. I can do it through her remembering details or she could be talking to someone about it, which I would personally prefer. If she tells someone about it, it would tie back in with the pairing. This is why I am starting to lean more towards Aragorn when it comes to the pairing. Don't get me wrong, I still like Boromir, but in this case I think Aragorn would be a better choice. I think he would be a better person for this sort of thing. Still I would like to hear your opinion on it. And no worries it wouldn't be something immensely important to the main plot, just some bonding between the main pairing. Also, Éomer has been suggested, thoughts?

*Silencio – Now I know most of the fandom would use a Muffliato in this case, but that isn't what the spell does. There are three silencing spells Muffliato, Quietus and Silencio. Muffliato stops people from hearing conversations in the sense that it replaces your words with a buzzing sound of sorts. Quietus is the opposite to Sonorus, it simply lowers the volume. And Silencio takes the sound away completely.

M.L (Guest) – Thank you so much for reviewing. Really it is reviews like yours that give us writers the motivation to write. Really my only complaint is that you are a guest reviewer so I couldn't answer you right away. Anyway, onto my actual response. Yes, that is something I found very frustrating, which is why I wrote this story in the first palace. I think it is because people have ideas for both sides of the crossover but aren't willing to write two stories. And honestly teen angst stories get so boring after about three stories, they are too predictable (I'm looking at you High School AUs). Yes, she had a Harry Potter world history and Middle-Earth history. It will all be revealed later in the story. Her childhood will be revealed soon after her gender. Patience my friend. As for the pairing, yeah, no Legolas, just no. Éomer is an interesting suggestion, definitely worth a consideration. Still I think I will let the story develop further before making any final decisions.

I will see you next time. Don't forget to drop your thoughts and suggestions in the review box below. See ya next time.

Chao.