Chapter Two

Events of a different time and place and the past. Part One

Age of Myth: The first Age. 33rd of Lights Doom 42nd hour. Remains of the Harenyar palace throne room.

Emperor Keth-Ath'mai Megilindir, born Kethandaalen, looked around at what was once his throne room with a weary, forlorn expression. The War of the Dragine, what other races called "The War of Blood", raged around him and his people, yet he could not seem to care any longer. This war had cost him and his people so much. Too much in his opinion. The once mighty and proud Daoine Empire of Zenthi'to Naraine was nearly wiped from the pages of history, and all it took was for two opposing dragine and the many predators of much smaller dragons and even smaller drakes to meet and fight in the skies over the great forest of Harenyar.

Keth went back to searching the ruined room and the many lifeless faces of his kin and people. Looking for any sign that his wife may have survived, knowing in his heart the likely outcome would be in vain. The scorched Iosium crown lay by what was once, what he had considered to be, a most comfortable chair. He stopped moving around, lost in thought, when a couple members of the Shield Guard approached, bowing to him deeply.

"Your eminence, we bring word from the lower levels. We have found the body of Empress Zarifindoral as well her contingent of Heart Guard. Word has arrived that your grandson and heir has survived. It would seem that a rage took him when the great red dragine fell from the sky. The people who witnessed this, are now calling him Sgia-Tha'tch. His actions saved many of the lower born as well the high when he, according to the reports, finished off the red dragine by himself." Both put hand to heart in salute as Keth nods tearfully, he then motions for them to leave him to his thoughts.

The news of his wife's death took him to the edge of despair, but was quickly replaced by hope as it quickly dawned on him that his grandson, Saelhindraalen, now Sgia-Tha'tch it seemed, was still alive. A tearful smile came to his face as he thought of his long dead son, Faelsindaathlen and how he would have been so very proud of the young elf his son has become.

How his daughter-in-law, Sernenniael, though going through her own grief of losing not only her husband but her sons twin sister as well, had raised their infant son to be a fine young elf warrior, mage and finally bladesinger, all before his fourth century of life.

So lost in his thoughts, Keth never heard the portal open behind him nor did he hear the two beings that had stepped through until one cleared his throat as well the arrival of several members of the Shield Guard, weapons drawn, quickly making a protective circle around their Emperor.

"Peace be upon you young Kethandaalen son of Drithansaarlen. We mean you and yours no harm. We have come to offer what aid and relief to this tragedy that we can, would you accept the help of I and my brother as well that of my children?"

The being who spoke stood taller than all the assorted elves in the room. Silver white hair flowed down his back, a gentle smile beamed towards them, while the other being stood silently, his own platinum hair cascaded down his back. He wore a grim expression on his face as if he were sickened by what he beheld in what remained of the destroyed throne room.

"Brother, things may just go quicker if we just do instead of offer. These mortals can not and will not understand the how and why of it, just that we are doing it." The platinum haired being murmured quietly.

His brother turned and gave him a flat look before responding. "Bahamuht, you disappoint me. We are here to help a disaster that technically, is our family's fault. It is considered polite to offer help and let it be known what we are doing as opposed to just doing it and causing suspicion. In their eyes we would be no better than our sister and her minions even IF we are helping in what ways we are allowed."

The now identified Bahamuht snorts loudly. "Our job is to do things, watch over as well protect our worshippers and deal with threats to creation, not to ask permission of mortals to do them. It's why we are the divine beings and they are the mortals, Sargonnas. After all this time have you not learned that lesson yet?" He turns and walks through the still open portal, closing it behind himself.

Sargonnas sighs silently with a shake of his head. "My apologies for his behaviour. The actions of our wayward sister and those she has convinced to join her, grind on his patience. Between you and I though, he and Tiamat have never truly gotten along. They fight and I stand in between them and try to make peace." He shrugs casually as he looks at the elves in front of him.

Keth and his guards, openly stare at the divine being in front of them for a few moments speechless. "I do believe we shall take you up on your offer of assistance, Divine Sargonnas. It would seem that one of your wayward kin has destroyed much of our city as well the surrounding forest. The one responsible did not survive, no offense to you and yours, I am happy to say. For those of my people who have died, justice has come quickly." He sketches a quick and shallow bow as his guards shortly follow his lead.

With a short nod, Sargonnas looks around, turns and begins to walk towards the archway that lead to the lower levels, then stops and with a slight turn looks at Keth. "I believe I can do the most good this way for now, my children will deal with the rest of the city and forest. For now show me your dead and wounded and I shall do all that I am allowed to fix this. There are some whose fate I can not change, I will admit, but there are some who should survive to lead long and healthy lives. The fate of others though.." He turns with an expression of sadness then walks off silently.

oOoOoOo

Age of Myth. 30th of Green Fields 5th hour. The Dwarven halls of Torache Zarador.

Hero of the Deep, Gulrich Goblinsmasher of Clan Bronzebeard. What many have come to consider a Dwarves, Dwarf. Stood guard outside of his kinsman and Thane's quarters in silent contemplation. The events of the past few years coursing through his mind, as well through the minds of many of his clan. It had been two years and nine months since the destruction of the Elven Empire of Zenthi'to Naraine in the great forest of Harenyar.

'A lil o'er two and a half years since the o'er grown lizards caused all tha ruckus.' He thought to himself with a long mental sigh. Eight months passed had seen the end of the Darkhammer Clans uprising, and not even a month had passed since the end of the Battle of the Deep, where a goblin warren had been discovered and kicked off yet another war with the small green skinned creatures.

"Hamish, tis yer time ta do tha rounds. Ye think ye can handle tha without jumpin at shadows this time?" Guard Captain Willam Bouldertosser of Clan Coldsteel said with a sneer as he interrupted Gulrich's thoughts. He slowly lifted his head to glare coldly at the other dwarf. Willam, in Gulrichs opinion, was nothing more than a bully and a waste of space that didn't deserve the rank he was so used to and sometimes leaned on to get his way.

"Me names Gulrich, ye useless lump o' shite, ye would be knowin tha if'n ye e'er took tha time to try and get ta know those yer s'posed ta be tha superior fer, but no. Ye sit around stuffin yer face with food and drink, bossin around those others who ye think ye outrank. But sadly it seems I need ta be remindin ye once again, ye drunken sod, ye don't outrank me. Ye ne'er have and ne'er will. Now run along before I'm forced to place the end o' me boot in yer backside and put me axe n' hammer at yer throat." Snarled Gulrich, slowly reaching for his hammer and one of many axes on his person.

With a hate filled expression and a loud snarl, Willam quickly drew forth his own axe, starting towards Gulrich when the door behind Gulrich opened swiftly, a figure standing in wicked looking spiked armor barked out in a loud and commanding voice breaking the tension and startling both dwarves in the hallway.

"Guard Captain Willam, correct me if'n I do be wrong, but ye do be lookin like yer either tryin to assault one o' me clan, or yer about to make the biggest mistake o' yer life and assault yer Thane and rightful ruler, that would be meself I do be talking about. Now do be correctin me if'n I do be rememberin me lessons as a child wrong, but yer clan is contracted and obligated to serve me own clan as soldiers an servants, or do I be misrememberin this?" Thane Bealtorik Bronzebeard, who some called "The Wrathful", glared first at his kinsman, a disappointed expression on his craggy looking face, then turned his face to glare at the now frozen in mid movement Guard Captain.

The silence that followed as Willam glared at Gulrich then quickly turned and bowed to his Thane, took only a few moments. "Apologies me Thane, tis just a misunderstandin, is all." Willam tries to excuse his actions.

"Personal duals are no ta be fought in tha halls. Ye've been warned of this before have ye not Guardsmen Willam?" Bealtorik continues his baleful glare at the now ex-Guard Captain then just as quickly turns and levels a stare at Gulrich. "As fer ye nephew. I would expect better than this from the son o' me sister. I do be sorely disappointed in ye lad, perhaps ye should be standin guard outside at tha gates? Hmm? What do ye be sayin ta tha?"

Gulrichs shoulders sag at his uncle's words, slowly he nods. "Iffn ye be thinkin tha's what I should be doin me Thane then I shall be doin as ye command. I do be havin no excuse fer me actions and will accept any punishment ye do be seein fit ta hand me."

Bealtoriks expression softens slightly and with a silent nod he turns his attention back to Guardsman Willam. "Well what're ye standing there like a useless lump fer? I do believe ye do be needin ta report ter yer new superior officer now don'tcha Guardsman? Guard Commander Hardrin will have yer next assignment. Dismissed!"

Bealtorik, turns to face his nephew, when all hell broke loose. Willam in a moment of pure idiocy and face twisted with rage, placed his axe in the back of the Thanes skull with a meaty thunking sound, Gulrich yelled for the guards and tackled Willam to the ground, pounding his fists repeatedly into the traitorous dwarfs face until the sounds of those gauntleted fists were beating nothing more than raw meat and bone chunks into the stone floors.

The guards arrived to the sight of Gulrich, his uncle's body cradled in his arms, rocking back and forth. Low sad moans escaping his throat now and again. It took several hours to get the body of Bealtorik from Gulrich. In the end it took his mother, Heldra, to convince him that his uncle needed to be prepared for his final journey.

oOoOoOo

Age of Myth. 1st of Twilight's Birth 1st hour, Tomb of the Thanes, Torache Zarador

Bealtorik was buried in the tomb of his ancestors, like his father, Bealjaric, before him. Presiding over this was the new head of Clan Bronzebeard, Bealgulrich, newly crowned Thane of Torache Zarador. His face raw from the tears freely flowing down his cheeks into his long braided beard. He stood silently as the cleric of Moradin Soulforger, Gorrim Bronzebeard, droned on and on.

His thoughts going back to a somewhat simpler time, he was forcefully brought out of his thoughts by an elbow in his gut. His own mother glared at him and gestured towards the tombs door. He nodded slowly and scrubbed the tears from his face then walked forward into the tomb. Looking at the effigy of his uncle one final time, he placed his uncles urgrosh on the lid of the stone cover, took three steps backward and turned, leaving the tomb, gesturing for the tomb to be closed.

"Yer uncle was a fine warrior as well a good Thane. Tis a shame, no offense ta ye lad, that he had no wee ones o' his own. But tha law's tha law and yerself was ta be declared tha next clan head and crowned Thane by his word." Gorrim Bronzebeard said quietly as other members of his clan passed either in silence, grieving for their lost clansmen or by giving their quiet condolences.

Bealgulrich, his mother Heldra and several Thanesguard, slowly made their way back to the throne room of Torache Zarador, where they were met by a small delagation of elves. Bealgulrich slowly sits upon his throne and waves a tired hand towards the elves, signalling for one of them to speak.

"May the will of Moradin see you sit in that throne long and may the wisdom of Veradain see you rule justly. I am Crown Prince Sgia-Tha'tch Megilindir. I speak for my father Emperor Keth-Ath'mai of the once great Daoine Empire of Zenthi'to Naraine. For those of us who are left, we seek sanctuary and holdings within the borders of your mountain kingdom."

oOoOoOo

August 7th 1:13 am, Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey

Harry Potter lay restless. Sleeping in what now was considered his room. His hair drenched and his forehead, covered in a sheen of sweat, as he dreamt of the events near the end of his first year at Hogwarts.

Harry, Hermione and Ron, after leaving the room of flying keys, entered a dark room full of broken pieces inside of it.

Hermione looks around nervously. "I don't like this. I don't like this at all." Harry glances around the room carefully. "Where are we? Is this a graveyard or some such?"

Ron glances back and forth then shakes his head slowly, a sigh escapes quietly. "This is no graveyard. It's a chessboard." He slowly walks out onto the marble board and flames light up the room, illuminating the board and giant chess pieces. Harry and Hermione follow shortly after.

Harry spots the door that would allow them to continue onward. "Hey, there's the door, it's not to far away!"

The trio begin to walk across the board towards the door when suddenly, as they reach the line of white, statue like pieces, the pawns spring to life, drawing their swords and bringing them up in a defensive position. The trio quickly jump back and the pawns sheathe their swords, looking like statues once more.

Frowning slightly, Hermione huffs then looks at both Ron then Harry. "Great. Now what do we do from here?" Ron smirks at her words looking a bit smug. "It's obvious, isn't it? We've got to play our way across the room. All right." He glances around at the black pieces.

"Harry, you take the place of the missing bishop over there. Hermione, you'll be taking the place of the queen's side castle. As for me, I'll be taking the place of the knight." They each move off to their respective places, Harry and Hermione then look at Ron and wait.

Hermione tilts her head to the side slightly and looks at Ron. "What happens now?" Ron just getting onto a horse, looks the board over quickly then back at Hermione. 'Well, white moves first and then... we play."

Slowly a white pawn moves forward. Ron takes a few moments to study the board carefully. Hermione clears her throat nervously, sending a sideways glance towards Ron. "Ron, you don't suppose this is going to be like actual wizard's chess do you?"

Ron throws a look her way then points at one of the pawns. "Pawn to D-5!" The black pawn slowly moves forward and stops diagonal to the white pawn. The white pawn quickly clears scabbard, raising it's swords and smashes the black pawn to pieces, taking it's place.

The three watching jump slightly. "Yes, Hermione, I think this is going to be exactly like wizard's chess!" Ron, looking nervous, gulp's loudly.

As the game continues, pieces smash and crash into each other with loud bangs and booms.

Ron atop the knight's horse, keeps calling out moves. "Rook to E-4! Pawn to C-3!" the white queen smashs the black pawn into oblivion and turns, facing forward once again as the three friends wince. Both Ron and Harry take a few moments to study the board once more.

Slowly it dawns on Harry. "Hang on a moment..." Ron slowly nods. "Yeah you've read the board right, Harry. Once I make my move, the queen will take me... leaving you free to check the king." Harry stares at Ron, mouth agape. "What?! No, Ron! Just.. No!"

Hermione looks from one friend to the other a bit lost. "Harry, what is he taking about?" Harry shakes his head slowly. "He's going to sacrifice himself so that I may check the king effectivly ending the game."

Hermione gasps and glares at Ron. "What?! No, Ron you can't do that!" Closing his eyes he nods. "There must be another way for us to get through, you can't just sacrifice yourself!" Ron turns to face his friend with a sad smile.

"Hermione! Do you want to stop Snape or not? Harry, it's you that has to go on. I know it, you know it. Not me, not Hermione, you!" Harry nods sadly and braces himself for Ron's next words. "Knight... to H-3" The horse slowly moves forward then slides sideways coming to a stop. "Check."

The white queen turns and slowly advances on Ron's position. Ron watches wide eyes and his breathing quickens at the approach as he clutches the steel reins. The white queen stops, raises her staff and brings it down and through Ron's chest and the horse under him, destroying the knight in a spray of blood and a clatter of broken pieces.

Both Harry and Hermione gasp as they watch their friend get killed. Harry yells out in denial and Hermione begins to move towards her fallen friend. "NO! Don't move! Don't forget, we're still playing." Hermione stares at Harry for a few moments then moves back to the middle of her square.

Harry slowly walks diagonally and stops in front of the white king. "Checkmate!" The kings sword falls onto the ground signalling their victory. Harry lets out the breath he was holding in, tears streaming down his face as both he and Hermione run to Ron's battered looking corpse.

"Hermione, take care of Rons body. Then go to the owlery. Send a message to the Headmaster. Ron was right... I have to go on." Hermione nods sadly then hugs Harry tightly. "You'll be ok, Harry. You're a great wizard, I know this to be true."

Harry smiles sadly looking at the body of his friend. "Not as good as you Hermione." She tearfully smiles. "Me? Books and cleverness? There are more important things. Friendship and bravery. Just to name a couple. Just be careful, alright Harry?" He nods, stands and walks away.

Harry sits up quickly a silent scream escapes his mouth as he then gasps for air. He shakes his head quickly trying to clear the nightmare from his mind to no avail.

A/N: Well not as long as my first chapter, but I'm hoping it's at least just as welcomed. It's been a rough time lately for me, between looking for a new job, moving and then having to rewrite this entire chapter from scratch, but here it is, chapter two. I hope this can put into perspective about the world that I'm trying to merge with that of the HP world. I'll be working on chapter 3 when and where I can, it will be slow since I'm having to basically rewrite everything that I had at one time.

Moving on, the scene from first year of Hogwart's, most of it was from a script, just changed in places to fit the purpose of the world I'm having a go at. If there are questions about the other world, where the elves, dwarves and dragine are from, feel free to pm me and ask any question you like and I'll attempt to write back in as prompt amount of time as I can. Flames, blah blah blah ignored/not needed.

R. Decimus