Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, the Lord of the Rings, their dialogues, and their characters. They belong to their respective owners. So on with the story!


Chapter 3: First impressions

Hermione's first days in Rivendell were spent talking to Gandalf about the situation of Middle Earth. That's how she found out about Frodo and the Ring. Whenever she was not "interrogating" Gandalf about Middle Earth, she spent her time in her room, re-reading books from Wizarding World, or with Arwen, or the hobbits (particularly with Merry and Pippin, Sam was in Frodo's room all the time). Lord Elrond was always busy, and she understood that. She didn't spend much time with the dark haired man. Gandalf said that rangers tended to keep to themselves when you didn't really know them.

She found out his name was Aragorn, and Hermione thought that he was such a nickname collector. Merry, Pippin, and Sam, for some reason, insisted on calling him Strider, although Sam called him Longshanks on a few occasions (usually when someone brought up about the hard part of the Hobbit's journey to Rivendell). She heard Arwen referred to him as Estel one time. She also heard Bilbo called him 'the DĂșnadan' while she was listening to the story of Bilbo's adventure to the Lonely Mountains. Aragorn was not in the story, but Bilbo sometime complained about his unfinished poems and "the DĂșnadan's" business that made him unable to assist him in completing the poem. Despite of Bilbo's occasional complaint and dozing off, Gandalf was right when he said that Bilbo could tell stories better than him.

During the few days in Rivendell, she had heard about Elrond's guests. Apparently, some of them had started to come. She chose to avoid them, not knowing what to do or what to say. She had heard that those guests were royalty. There were Elven lords and Dwarf lords. She was definitely out of place.

One morning, it was the October 24th. She was re-reading "Hogwarts in History" in her room when she realised Merry and Pippin hadn't been banging on her door like they did in the last few days at this hour. She stopped reading and walked out of her room. The corridor was really quiet without the loud hobbits running around. She walked through the corridor and heard sounds from Frodo's room. Frodo was awake at last. She peaked inside. "Welcome to Rivendell, Frodo Baggins," Lord Elrond said inside Frodo's room.

Hermione returned to her room with a nervous feeling down her spine. She did feel happy for Frodo's recovery, but Frodo's recovery also meant the meeting would soon be held. She wasn't ready yet. What was she supposed to say in the meeting? What was she supposed to do? Oh Merlin, help me! she tought.

That afternoon, she was told that the meeting would be held tomorrow morning, and that night, a horn was sounded through the air of Rivendell. Another guest had come. Great. Another royal guest to see my ridiculousness tomorrow in the meeting. She decided that she didn't want to know who had come this time and just went to bed, skipping dinner in the process.


That morning, Hermione woke up early, as usual. Unlike her usual routine, though, her first action when she woke up was to walk towards the cupboard to choose an outfit. This meeting is important, and it is essential for her to show that she had adapted with this place. She decided to wear an outfit from Middle Earth, instead of wearing her spare clothes from Earth that she carried in her beaded bag.

When she opened the cupboard, she was overwhelmed with its content. Arwen had said on the night of Hermione's arrival that Lord Elrond and she herself had ordered Elven tailors in Rivendell to make Hermione some clothes, but Hermione never thought that "some" in the words of Arwen and Lord Elrond meant "twenty-something". She had only been in Rivendell for a few days, for Merlin's sake! They were not supposed to be able to make that many clothes in such a short time! But then again, during her short stay in Middle Earth, the Elves had shown many superhuman qualities, like super-sensory, and speed. Maybe this was possible for the Elves.

Hermione sighed and picked a dress from the cupboard that had the most attractive colour in her eyes. She didn't really care about which dress she chose. She knew that if she tried to choose one of those dress, it would take a long time, for all of the dresses were beautiful. Then she took a bath, dressed up, and looked on the mirror.

Hermione gasped when she saw her reflection in the mirror. She couldn't believe the girl in the mirror is the same bookworm from Hogwarts. The dress was floor-length, long-sleeved, and made of maroon fabric with golden linings. The dress was also embroided with figures of lion on the end of the sleeves, right on the back of her palm. She then snapped out of her reverie and started doing her hair in a French-braid with her wand. After she finished doing her hair, she looked upon the mirror one last time. She felt like a true Gryffindor. This thought gave her a little more courage. Yes, she would survive this meeting.


Boromir was drained, phisically, and mentally. There is no other word that can describe what he felt right now. He had just arrived in Rivendell last night after travelling for months (luckily, he arrived not long before dinner). And while he was travelling, his mind kept pondering in his dream. What the voice in his dream said was very disturbing for him. "Your doom is near at hand" it said. Whose doom? His doom? Or his city's? Or worse, Eru forbid, his country's? Thanks to those thoughts, he didn't exactly have a good night sleep that night.

The next morning, Boromir woke up early. After he got ready, he decided to take a little stroll around Rivendell, since the meeting was still in a few hours. He didn't exactly mind where he was going, so he was a little bit surprised when he found himself in a room full of murals and artifacts. He looked at the beautiful murals. Lord Elrond is a great artist. he thought to himself.

Then he came across a painting of Isildur cutting Sauron's fingers with Elendil's broken sword. Although he didn't like the truth the painting depicted, he admired the painting itself. Suddenly, maybe because of his warrior instinct, he felt someone's glare on his back. He looked to his far left, and saw a man about forty with dark, silver-streaked hair and grey eyes. The man, apparently, had been reading a book there since before Boromir entered the room. He was a little taken aback by this sight. He thought there was no man in Rivendell, since it was an Elven territory, and for all he knew, Elves tended to keep to themselves.

"You are no Elf," Boromir stated, rather than asked.

The man then replied politely, as if he had been in Rivendell for a long time. As if he was one of the hosts. "Men of the South are welcome here."

Boromir nodded, appreciating his greeting. This man was polite to him, so why should he be not? Then Boromir asked, "Who are you?"

"I am a friend to Gandalf the Grey," replied the man. Gandalf the Grey. Did he mean Mithrandir? The wizard his brother admired? The one his father despised? He then remembered that even though his father despised the wizard, and he knew his father had a good judgement of character, this wizard was one of the people who strongly opposed Sauron. Maybe this man was one of the Northern Rangers. He heard Mithrandir got together well with them. If this person is here as a friend of Mithrandir's, and as a ranger, then supposedly, he was there to discuss about Sauron too, just like himself.

"Then we are here on common purpose..." Boromir said, not knowing how he should call the man. The man didn't say his name, so he wouldn't press the man on the matter. If both he and the man would attend the meeting, then they would know each other's name eventually during the meeting. For know, all he knew was that the man was a friend. "... friend." continued Boromir, offering him a slight awkward smile.

Boromir waited for a reply from the man. But he didn't reply, and just continued gazing at Boromir. Feeling awkward, Boromir decided to just ignore the man and looked at the broken sword's shards, just across the painting of Isildur. "The shards of Narsil," he stated in awe. The shards were in good condition. The Elves must have taken care of the shards well. He tried to lift the part that still attached to its handle. He could imagine the sword in its glory day. It must be a great sword indeed. "The blade that cut the Ring from Sauron's hand," he said again while fingering the blade of the sword. He felt a sudden tickling pain when the broken blade cut his finger. "It's still sharp," he stated in surprise. He took back what he thought about the Elves taking care of the shards well. More than that, they took care of the shards as if they were keeping the shards for someone important. Or as if the shards were prized possessions to them.

Suddenly he remembered that he was in the presence of someone else in this room, who had been watching him quite intensely. He then schooled his expression quickly, put the broken sword back to its pedestal, rather recklessly, and said, "But no more than a broken heirloom." He then made to leave the room. When he heard the sword's clang when it touched the floor, he hesitated for a minute. Should he go back and put the sword in its place? But then, remembering about the man in the room, he continued to leave the room. While he was walking, he heard the man silently arose from his chair and walked, probably to return the sword to its pedestal respectfully.


Hermione walked around Rivendell. She had been here for a few days now, but she kept getting lost. She always reasoned to everyone that she kept getting lost because the place was huge, bigger than Hogwarts, and everyone always said that if she ever went to Minas Tirith, where ever that is, she shouldn't leave her quarter. The only place that Hermione seemed to always be able to find is the library. She mused to think that maybe it was the bookworm instinct inside her that always led her to the place.

Hermione finally grew bored of walking around, but she still had two hours before the Council meeting started. Maybe I should go to the library, she thought. Hermione then remembered how Harry and Ron always finished that sentence for her whenever she said that. She then remembered one evening when she, Harry, and Ron were in the common room, writing an essay for Professor Snape's class, and she got stuck. She asked both Harry and Ron, and Ron simply said, "Of course we don't know, 'Mione. We are the one who usually ask you things, right?" The conversation ended with Hermione scolding the boys for making Hermione their walking library.

Hermione smiled when she remembered that. She didn't fancy being a walking library for both Harry and Ron, but she really missed their banters. She missed being just another guy when she was with her boys. She missed troubles that seemed to always find them no matter how hard they tried to avoid them. Not that she didn't find trouble in Middle Earth, but she really missed facing the troubles with Harry and Ron.

Hermione was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't see where she was going and ended up bumping someone else. Unluckily, the man she bumped onto was carrying a quiver full of arrows in his hands. Even though the man didn't fall, the arrows did. "Sorry!" Hermione said quickly and bowed down to help the man picked up the falling arrows. "I'm really sorry," she said while she was picking the arrows. "I was so lost in my thoughts and didn't see where I was going," she said.

"It is fine, my lady. I was also lost in my own thoughts of home," the man said. His voice was so beautiful in Hermione's ears, and the moment she heard the voice, she was lost in it. She stopped picking the arrows up and looked to the man, who was also crouching in front of her. One look, and she realised instantly that this is no man, but an Elf. She noticed that the Elf had long blond hair, which remind her a little of Lucius Malfoy. The difference was that the Elf's hair was golden blond, while Malfoy senior's was platinum blond. The Elf was still busy picking up the arrows, and when no more arrows were on the ground, he looked up to Hermione.

Just moments ago, she was lost in his voice, and now she was definitely lost in his eyes. His eyes were light blue, and as deep as the ocean. After a long five seconds, Hermione realised that she was still crouching on the ground, so she decided to stand up. When she did, the Elf flinced a little, as if he just woke up from a daydream. She then gave the arrows to the Elf and the Elf gave her a beautiful smile.

"Are you here for the Council too?" Hermione asked him.

"Yes, my lady, and I assume from your question, that I am going to see you in the Council too?" he asked.

"Yes. Gandalf the Grey invited me, and Lord Elrond had given his permission. You don't mind, do you?"

"No, my lady. Normally, I wouldn't agree for a lady to attend a meeting like this, but I trust Lord Elrond's judgement. He is, afterall, known as one of the wisest in Arda. If he thinks that it is important for you to grace the meeting with your presence, I believe that means your presence is needed indeed," he replied.

Hermione sighed in relief. "Thank you then. Gandalf had warned me about how men in Middle Earth belittling women," Hermione said.

The Elf chuckled. "Yes, I heard they tend to do that. The Elves were more tolerant about letting women in battle than Men, probably because ellith, that means female Elves, are trained in combat, while most women in their territory were not," he said.

"I can see that," Hermione said, remembering one time when Merry and Pippin told her the story of how they struggled to get Frodo to Rivendell after the Weathertop attack. They said that Arwen was the one who took Frodo, despite knowing that the Nine Wraiths would chase her.

"So, my lady, if you do not mind my asking, what makes you so important that even Lord Elrond let you, a human maiden, attend the meeting?" he asked.

Hermione hesitated. "Have you ever heard about Merlin?" she asked the thought that if the Elf already knew about Merlin, she had nothing to hide from the Elf.

"I have, my lady. My father told me a story about his encounter with him when he was travelling with Gandalf and some Dwarfs. He said that this Merlin had great power, and that we were fortunate that he was against Sauron, and not against us," he answered. He furrowed his eyebrows in a little confusion. He was probably wondering what Merlin had to do with his question.

Hermione smiled and answered his previous question, "Merlin is my forefather." In instance, the Elf's expression went from one of confusion to one of understanding. "Then we are lucky to have you against Sauron, and not against us," he smiled.

Suddenly, Hermione realised that she had been walking all this time, and the Elf was walking next to her while he was talking to her. She stopped walking, looked around, and saw that she was now in front of the library's door. "Must be my bookworm instinct," she mumbled to herself.

The Elf raised one eyebrow and asked, "Pardon, my lady?"

Hermione chuckled and explained to him, "Nothing. It is just the fact that I keep getting lost whenever I try to go somewhere else in this place, but when it comes to the library, I can always find it. It must have been the bookworm instinct inside me." Her answer made the Elf smiled and nodded.

"Well, then, I think I will go inside and, read," she said while she jerked her thumb to the library's door.

The Elf smiled and nodded his head, but just after Hermione turned to the door, the Elf called her, prompting her to turned back to face him. "I'm sorry, my lady. I just realised that I have been so rude. We have been talking for quite a long time, and we haven't even introduced ourselves. My name is Legolas, and my I have the pleasure to know your name?" he asked her.

Hermione blushed a little, making Legolas smile. "You can call me Hermione, Legolas. It has been a pleasure to meet you," she said. Then Legolas smiled, and turned away.

Hermione walked into the library, and as she closed the library's door, she thought, If every men in Middle Earth are as chivalrous as Legolas, then maybe living in Middle Earth is not as bad as I thought it would be. And right after that, she scolded herself for thinking like a ridiculous teenage girl.


Boromir strolled around a little bit more before he decided to just wait in the meeting place. So he sat there and waited. After waiting for a long time, which he spent for pondering about his dream again, people started to come. There were Elves and dwarfs. Some of the Elves dressed like the Elves in Rivendell, and some other dressed in green, brown, and silver garb. He guessed that these Elves came from the woods. Mirkwood, maybe? The Dwarfs dressed in their typical garb. Chain mail, armour, with axes everywhere. Then Mithrandir came into the meeting room, together with the ranger and a beardless dwarf.

Wait. Is that really a beardless dwarf? Or is that a child of man? He observed more thoroughly, and decided that the person who now sat on Mithrandir's right was not a dwarf, nor a child of man. The person had short, quite neatly curled hair, unlike the Dwarfs who had long, messy, small curled hair. He was also not dressed in mails and armour, like the Dwarfs. And unlike a child of man, this person didn't have the innocent face of one. His face looked like one of the adults'. He must be a Halfling. He had heard about Halflings before, who lived in holes far north, but he never knew that they really existed. He always thought of them as fictional creatures in bedtime stories. Eru, the world must be going mad!

Deciding not to think about the Halfling again, Boromir looked around. Almost all attendants of the Council meeting had come. There was only one empty seat on Mithrandir's left. He was a little surprised that the ranger didn't sit next to Mithrandir. But then, maybe the ranger was not here on Mithrandir's request. Maybe he was here just as one of the Rangers. Maybe the empty seat was reserved for someone who actually came here on Mithrandir's request. For his apprentice, maybe? Beside that seat, the only empty seats were for Lord Elrond and his right-hand man. Or Elf.

Suddenly he heard the Dwarfs gasped in surprise. Boromir looked at them. They looked... scandalised. He followed the direction of their vision and found a young lady dressed in red, walking toward the empty seat next to Mithrandir. He was shocked, and felt a little... scandalised. A woman attending this Council meeting? Was she Mithrandir's special invitee? Had he gone mad? Or maybe the woman just got lost in this big place? Yes. That must be it. The woman was not an Elf, he observed. She was a daughter of man. She must not be from this place. She must have gotten lost in this place. Since he was the only other man who didn't come from this place (the Ranger seemed to know this place a lot, so he didn't count), and since he was a good gentleman, Boromir rose from his seat and addressed the young lady. "I'm sorry, milady. Are you lost?" The lady stopped on her track and looked at Boromir.

The young lady's next response was disappointing for Boromir. He had expected her to say something along the line of "Yes, I am. Could you please tell me how to go to bla-bla-bla?", but instead, she said, "No, good sir. I'm pretty sure I'm in the right place. This is where the Council meeting will be held, no?"


Hermione looked at the light-brown-haired man who asked her if she was lost. And so it started. This will be the beginning of the chauvinist males' attack to me. Cheers! she thought to herself. So she replied confidently (at least she tried to look confident when she said these), "No, good sir. I'm pretty sure I'm in the right place. This is where the Council meeting will be held, no?"

As Hermione expected, the man's face looked shocked. He looked like he was gaping while he looked around. Probably searching for the one who invited me here. she thought. That would be Gandalf. she continued in her mind.

Just as if he was reading her mind, the man's glare was then pointed towards Gandalf. "Mithrandir, did you invite this young lady?" he asked. So Gandalf was also called as Mithrandir. Hermione wondered if Gandalf was also a nickname collector, like Aragorn was.

Gandalf looked amused. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I did, Boromir." He answered lightly.

"But she is a woman, Mithrandir!" The man exclaimed a little angrily. "We are going to discuss about the probability of war among other dreadful things, and you invited her? We shouldn't corrupt her delicate mind with the affairs of war. That is for Men."

Delicate mind? she thought. Good news, no one else in the room got as close as confronting her like he did. Maybe not all of the attendants of the meeting were sexist. Bad news, this Boromir was the most sexist person she had ever met, and he was starting to get into her nerves.

Not wanting to cause chaos, she let Gandalf do the talking for now. "I am aware of her gender, Boromir. But I am also aware of her ability to fight. I wouldn't want to be on her wrong side, Boromir." Gandalf must have thought that Hermione was as strong as Merlin. He might be wrong, but she knew if she contradict his statement now, things could get far worse for her. Worse, as in, getting kicked out of the meeting.

Hermione tried to tune the man out of her hearing while she sat. Gandalf was still talking to Boromir. Hermione looked around the place, and her eyes were connected to a familiar pair of blue eyes she met earlier that day. Hermione gave Legolas a small smile that he returned with a beautiful one and a nod. Suddenly, something Boromir said went past her hearing barrier and turned her almost calm mood to an angry one once more. "... she is just an innocent little girl ... weak ... supposed to be protected ... doesn't know a thing about war ..." That's it! she thought angrily. The Gryffindor in her was definitely insulted.

"Please don't speak of things that you don't know, Sir." Hermione said through gritted teeth while standing up. Usually, when she hissed like that to Harry and Ron, they would know not to anger her even more. But Boromir wasn't like Harry or Ron. He didn't know about that. So he continued to argue, "But you are nothing but a girl!"

Hearing Boromir's last sentence, Hermione couldn't take it anymore. She pulled out her wand and was about to curse Boromir when she felt Gandalf's hand on her shoulder. Gandalf was now standing behind her and he said, "The meeting is about to begin." He then gestured to the entrance of the meeting place, where Lord Elrond and Erestor was getting in. Saved by the bell, Hermione thought. Boromir wasn't exactly saved by the sound of a bell, but that was the closest Muggle term Hermione could apply to the condition. Hermione, Gandalf, and Boromir then sat on their respective seats. This meeting would be really interesting. Hermione thought. And how right she was.