Title: Fighting Another War

Author: CrimsonSnowflake

Warning: No warnings in this chapter.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and Lord of The Rings belongs to J.K Rowling and J.R.R Tolkien, all the copyrights associated with HP and LOTR belongs to them. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. no profit is being earned by the writer of this story.

A/N: I don't really have that much I want to point out in this chapter so I'll just leave you all to it!

Enjoy my lovelies!


"Three can keep a secret if two are dead." - Benjamin Franklin, 1706- 1790.


Chapter 4:

Secrets & Revelations

A powerful thrill swept through his body and rocked his entire being as he once again parried a powerful blow delivered to him by Gandalf. Blood rushed through his veins as adrenaline continuously pumped through his body, sharpening his reflexes and making him more aware of his surroundings.

It was thrilling to be so in control, to have so much power over his own body, over all his and his sword's movements. The fact that he could parry every blow sent at him, that he managed to stand on, more or less, equal foot in battle with his own teacher, was a feat that served to make his pride bloom into a glorious flower.

A small grin made its way onto his face as he sped forwards, subtly changing the angle of his sword and swiftly thrusting it forward. A choked cry of surprise escaped him as Gandalf unexpectedly stepped to the side, twirling around, grabbing his arm in a strong lock and mercilessly holding his sword against Harry's neck.

"Do you yield?" The wizard inquired, eyes twinkling with the rush of battle.

"Alright, I give up." Harry answered, sighing as the sword at his vulnerable throat was removed. "Your age deceives, Gandalf. One would think you to be thirty years old, not...whatever years you are."

"And my age will remain a mystery for all of times, Harry." Gandalf replied, violently grinning from ear to ear. "Not even the most excruciating torture could get it out of me; no, that secret I shall take with me to my grave."

"You do that," Harry said, running a steady hand through his hair as he began to walk away from their training field, in the direction of his rooms. "Tell me how it goes, will you?"

"Yes, of course, I'll make sure to write you a letter, as I cry out in unimaginable pain; do excuse me if there are some bloodstains on it, I imagine that it is a terribly difficult task to keep the paper clean." The wizard merrily shouted after him, watching as the young man moved further and further away from him and going on as if they were having a perfectly normal conversation.

And they were. Harry and Gandalf had, ever since they'd met, managed to make the most horrifying conversations seem like normal ones. They didn't like talking about the weather; they didn't like talking about how their day had been. No, Harry and Gandalf enjoyed bizarre conversations. In fact, they enjoyed it so much that not a day went by without them having one, it was an unspoken rule that at least once, maybe two, times a day they would speak utter nonsense. And they thrived with it.

A cool wind, swept over him as he made his way through the halls of Rivendell, passing several elves, both blond and dark, on his way. With practiced movements, he reached up, running his fingers over his temples and attempted, without any luck, to will his headache away. For two days now Imladris, as the elves called it, had been occupied by men, dwarves and elves, whom had from afar, all for the same purpose. And during those two days, 48 dismal hours, Harry had been living with a pounding headache, all because of the hostility between the elves and the dwarves.

Just as Harry had befriended some of the elves in Rivendell, he had also befriended the group of dwarves that had arrived; thusly he was in the middle of a war, a very heated war. He didn't regret his decision, per say, but he did wonder what on earth he had been thinking when he'd willingly put himself in the middle of it. Not the wisest decision he'd made in his life, surely.

Making as little noise as possible, Harry turned the corner, making sure not to trip over the slightly raised floor and taking the hallway going right instead of left. Harry didn't think of himself as a stupid person, he had never thought himself to be dim-witted, so why on earth he hadn't noticed the sparks flying between the group of dwarves and the gang of elves he had no idea. It was as if it had flown straight over his head, informing everyone but him.

At least, Gimli, son of Glóin, the leader of the dwarves, didn't expect him to join a side as all the others had. He was perfectly content to just spend time with him without insulting elves and without interrogating Harry of what he felt about them; yes, conversations with Gimli could be both relaxing and stimulating. A small smile spread on his face as he thought about the loud snort or scoff an elf would have made, should they have heard his thoughts.

With a steady hand, he forcefully pushed at his door, slowly opening it and stepping inside. Immediately, he headed for the bathroom. There was nothing more he wanted than a warm, relaxing bath to wash away all the sweat that had gathered when he was training with Gandalf. To his surprise, the tub was already filled to the brim with steaming hot water.

Swiftly, he stripped himself of all his clothes, carefully stepping into the tub and lowered himself with a pleasured moan. He had always enjoyed hot, steaming baths, whenever he could get one, that is. They always served to loosen up his stiff muscles and joints, always served to give him some relaxation; somewhat making up for all the nights he had gone without sleep.

Oh yes, he was still haunted by nightmares. Voldemort had never stopped torturing him, even if he was in a new world. Their connection had never weakened. The link had never faltered and it always served to show him some of the gruesome scenes of Voldemort torturing, mangling and killing. The one thing from his world that he would have preferred being without, was the only thing that had followed him into this one.

No one could say that Harry was especially lucky.

A soft knock on the bathroom door shook him out of his thoughts, forcing him to push them back in his mind to bring forth another time. Submerging himself until only his head was over the waters surface, Harry shouted for his visitor to come in.

"Pardon me, my lord, but Lord Elrond wishes for you to meet him in the west garden." A young she-elf said, keeping her eyes closely locked on the floor, not once glancing up to meet Harry's eyes.

"Thank you."


"You're late!" Elrond's voice boomed, ringing out into the air and drawing attention to the figure trying to sneak inside unnoticed.

Sheepishly, Harry rubbed a hand at the back of his neck, turning to face the elf glaring at him. "Well you see it's not easy to find a place when you don't know where is."

"And asking someone for directions never came to mind?" the lord scoffed, eyes drilling into Harry's before he turned away. "Go to your seat."

Barely holding back the childish urge to stick his tongue out at the elf, Harry made his way to the vacant seat between Gandalf and Frodo, greeting them both with a small whisper before turning his attention to what was going on around him.

Elrond stood, as regal as ever, in the middle of the room, drawing everyone's attention away from the young wizard and onto himself. A grave expression tainted his handsome features, revealing exactly how serious their situation was. No one moved or spoke. They all waited, with baited breath, for the dark-haired male to begin.

He didn't disappoint. "Strangers from distant lands, friends of old, you have all been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor."Elrond said, looking at each and every one of them with a serious glint in his eyes.

"Middle-earth stands on the brink of destruction, no one can escape it. Either we unite or we fall." He continued, taking a step backwards and easing himself down into the throne like chair seated behind him. "Each race is bound to this fate—this one doom."

Pausing, the elf folded his hands, gracefully lacing his fingers together and acting as if he had all the time in the world. "Bring forth the Ring, Frodo."

Glancing at the hobbit beside him, Harry patiently waited as Frodo shuffled slightly in his seat before stepping forward, tightly gripping something hanging around his neck. A shiver raced up and down his spine as a chain was lifted up over Frodo's head, revealing to them all a small golden ring dangling innocently from it. Closely, he studied it. Running his eyes over every curve, every detail, in his opinion it was quite simple, nothing to behold, nothing to fear. But the aura it emitted...

It screamed malicious intent.

Instinctively, Harry shifted closer to Gandalf, seeking the older wizard for comfort. Harry had never been one to cower infront of evil, he had never been one to back down when faced with danger, but there was something about that ring that chilled his insides, that sent wave after wave of unrelenting fear through him. How Frodo could stand to have it around his throat, so close to his heart, he couldn't understand.

"So it is true..." A man across Harry spoke up as his grey eyes furiously traced every contours of the golden jewellery lying in the middle of the room.

Abruptly, the man rose to his feet, drawing himself up to his full height, tilting his chin upwards indicating that this was a proud man, a man used to being obeyed. Confidently, he took a step forward, then another one, steadily making his way towards the Ring. His whole being seemed to radiate eagerness and triumph.

"In a dream, I saw the eastern sky grow dark. But in the west a pale light lingered. A voice was crying: 'Your doom is at hand.'" Finally, the man managed to rip his obsessed eyes away from the Ring, turning to meet Harry's glowing, emerald orbs. Pain and desperation seemed to linger in his grey eyes; a battle seemed to be ripping him apart from the inside, slowly destroying him. It was clear to Harry that Boromir would have to be watched when in the presence of Sauron's ring. "Isildur's bane is found."

Abruptly, he reached forward, his hand hovering over the Ring for a minute before it shakily descended, itching to wrap around the cold gold that made up the Ring, longing to own it, to use it.

Chaos erupted as both Elrond and Gandalf jumped up from their seats, rage written clearly across their faces as they approached the man.

"Boromir!" Elrond's voice boomed, echoing off of the walls surrounding them.

Shivers rocked his body as Gandalf's deep voice spoke in a language he had never heard before. Shadows grew at an alarming rate, coating the whole room in darkness and revealing exactly how powerful the old man really was.

The elves in the room immediately reached up to cover their ears; grimaces of pain marred their beauty as Gandalf's voice grew in volume. The Ring seemed to sing as the whole world froze, thriving as every being in the room seemed to shrink away from the wizard standing tall in the middle of the room.

Abruptly, it all ended. The world once again began moving and the sun seemed to have finally broken through the sea of shadows that had filled the room. A sigh of relief escaped him as Boromir stumbled back to his chair, shock plainly shown on his face.

"The Ring is pure evil," Gandalf said, fiercely staring at the man he had just faced." We cannot use it."

A stunned silence filled the room as Gandalf slowly walked back to his seat, his staff tightly clutched in his right hand. Grey eyes were alight with worry, glancing back at Boromir now and then.

Just as Harry had, Gandalf had also noticed Boromir's unhealthy reaction towards the Ring. They had both noticed the possessive glint that filled the man's eyes as he stared at the Ring. They had both noticed how the man was practically salivating at the prospect of controlling and using the Ring. Harry knew perfectly well that Boromir's intentions were good, but the Ring had already managed to sneak its way into his mind, tainting him and ruling over him. Boromir was already under the Ring's, and thusly Sauron's, control.

Unease filled Harry as he warily watched the various people that made up the council. Six elves, with the exception of Elrond, was seated on the left of Gandalf, two dwarves, Gimli and his father, were seated to their left, and two men, Boromir and a man the hobbit's had called Strider, were seated by their side.

The elves, all with an unearthly perfection about them, were all watching those surrounding them, carefully inspecting them while at the same time paying attention to Lord Elrond's words. The dwarves were disdainfully glaring at the elves they were forced to sit with, only once or twice turning their gaze to meet with Harry's. And the two men, unlike the others, just sat there, devoting all their attention to Elrond, Boromir commenting now and then.

It was all a play, Harry mused. They were all playing their parts perfectly, even if they didn't know it. They were all marionettes, gently guided along by the strings of their puppeteer. Slowly, his lips quirked upwards into a small smile, watching as Gimli sent a particularly vicious glare at a blond elf. Yes, it was a play with real life puppets. And everyone, including Harry, was following the manuscript to the point.

Out of nowhere, one of the elves, the one Gimli had been so fiercely glaring at, jumped to his feet, facing Boromir as his blond hair flied about him as he snarled, "This is no mere ranger, he is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance!"

Apparently, Harry had missed a lot during his musings.

"This... is Isildur's heir?" Boromir asked, turning around to stare at Aragorn in disbelief. "This is the man I am to call my king?!"

"No," He growled, pinning Aragorn with furious glare as he slowly stalked closer to the man. "I shall never bow to a mere ranger like you!"

"Havo dad, Legolas," Aragorn calmly said, motioning for the fierce tempered elf to go back to his seat as his eyes followed Boromir's movements.

A tense silence followed as Boromir stalked Aragorn like a predator closing in on its prey. "Gondor has no king, Gondor needs no king!"

With those last words, Boromir moved back to his own seat, throwing one last glare at Aragorn before completely ignoring him. It was what Harry thought a very childish way for a grown man to act. But then again, weren't they all childish when faced with something they didn't want to face?

Glancing at the elf that had so fiercely stood up for Aragorn, Harry was shocked to meet with a pair of the deepest blue eyes he had ever seen. The elf seemed to stare right through him, looking at his very soul, seeing everything Harry had to offer. A pleasant shiver raced up his spine and spread through the rest of his body as those blue eyes traced up and down his body, alight with appreciation and realisation.

Horrified at the feelings that welled up in him, Harry averted his eyes, successfully breaking eye contact, and instead focused on what was going on around him. And just in time too, for the moment he turned his eyes away Gimli had jumped up from his chair, axe raised high up in the air as he allowed a battle cry to flow from his throat and across his lips, running straight at the Ring.

It didn't work.

A large chunk of metal was sent flying his way as the axe was shattered to several pieces and Gimli was sent flying to the ground. Without thinking, Harry threw himself down to the ground barely avoiding being hit by the deadly projectile. With a grunt, Harry pushed himself up from the stone floor, sending a small glare in Gimli's direction before brushing off his clothes.

"Good reflexes there, Harry." Gandalf said, gently patting his shoulder as he seated himself beside the wizard.

"Thank you," Harry replied, turning his attention towards Elrond as if nothing had happened.

With one last lingering look at Harry, Elrond turned to face Gimli. "The Ring cannot be destroyed by any weapon we have here, Gimli, son of Glóin. The Ring was forged in the fires of Mount Doom and only there can it be destroyed." Pausing for a moment, the dark haired elf allowed his eyes to trail over the figures before him. "One of you must do this."

A loud snort erupted from Boromir then. "One does not simply walk into Mordor. Its black gates are guarded by more than orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep, the great Eye is ever watchful." With grace, Boromir pushed himself out of his seat, facing them all as he continued. "It is a barren wasteland, riddled with fire, ash and dust. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume, not with ten thousand men could you do this. It is folly!"

Harry couldn't have agreed more. It would be foolish to think that they could just walk straight into Mordor without any troubles whatsoever. It was plain stupid to think that they could, with Sauron's most precious ring, get into a land such as that without being discovered. It...It just wasn't a great strategy.

"Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond has said?!" Legolas indignantly cried, leaping to his feet with unnatural grace. "The Ring must be destroyed!"

And then there was that. Just as the elf had pointed out, the Ring had to be destroyed, it had to be thrown into the fires of Mount Doom, it had to be kept away from the enemy at all cost and because of that, no matter how foolish it was, they had to get into Mordor. They had no other choice. It was either that or perish.

"And I suppose you think you're the one to do it?!" Gimli roared, joining the argument against the elf as any hot tempered dwarf would have.

Blazing fury lit up in Legolas' eyes as he faced the short dwarf, drawing himself up to his full height, tilting his chin slightly upwards and looking down upon the dwarf. The air seemed to crackle with electricity around them as they glared at each other, displaying exactly how much hate the two races held for each other.

"I will be dead before I see the Ring in the hands of an elf!" the red haired dwarf growled as he was joined by his father, successfully starting uproar.

Insults flew everywhere as the whole council joined the argument. Eyes were tainted by fury, practically drilling holes into the ones their owners were arguing with. Even Gandalf had decided to join the ruckus; his deep, booming voice could easily be heard and recognized amongst the others.

With a small sigh, Harry reached over to Frodo, grabbing the hobbits hand, lightly squeezing it to comfort the little man. The small, almost unnoticeable squeeze he got back made him aware of Frodo's state of mind. The hobbit seemed to be deep in thought, his icy blue eyes traced over the arguing group as his mind worked with great efficiency. Harry could feel it the moment Frodo had made up his mind.

Standing up, his hand still interlaced with Harry's, Frodo faced the group in front of them head on, squaring his shoulders backwards, puffing his chest out as he drew a deep breath. "I will take it!" He timidly shouted to no avail.

Grasping Harry's hand a little tighter, the little man tried once more. "I will take it!!"

Slowly, the ruckus calmed down as they all turned to face the small, brave hobbit. Astonished faces was what made up the group, several eyebrows were raised in surprise as many eyes traced up and down Frodo's small frame.

"I will take the Ring to Mordor. Though...I do not know the way..."

With a small smile on his face, Harry rose up from his seat, drawing attention to himself and still holding onto Frodo's clam and sweaty hand. "Are you sure about this, Frodo?" He whispered as he lowered himself to the young hobbit's level.

A jerky nod was his only answer.

"Alright," Harry replied, stepping forward to stand on Frodo's right. "I'll be joining you then."


Darkness coated the halls of Rivendell as the sun disappeared behind the mountains. Shadows twisted and danced as Harry walked, a candle in his hand, from the dining hall towards his room. A small sigh escaped him as he ran his hand gently through his unruly hair, desperately trying to smooth it out with no luck. It was perhaps the only thing he hated about his appearance, despite the fact that it was the same hair as his father had once had, well, that and his short, fragile looking stature.

Out of nowhere, a pair of voices invaded his ears, drawing his interest and waking his curiosity. Cautiously, Harry made his way towards the voices, moving as quietly as he could. It was in moments like these that he really missed his invisibility cloak.

"No... I don't...You know as well as I do..." It was muffled but Harry could clearly distinct Gandalf as one of the persons talking.

Walking up to the door the voices came from; Harry tightly pressed himself up against the door, doing so without any sound and with baited breath. He still hadn't managed to stop his bad habit of listening at the doors; listening to conversations he had no right of knowing.

"He needs to know, Gandalf!" Elrond's voice rang, reaching Harry's ears as clear as it would have had Harry been in the room. "It is confirmed; he came and informed me of it himself!"

"We cannot tell him...Harry isn't from this world, you know this as well as I do, why put them through the struggle, the pain that is sure to come?!" Gandalf replied, sounding tired.

"It would not be worth it without struggle. There is a reason Harry is here, he was meant to be here. Why are you so disinclined to believe that this could be that reason?!"

"Because—" suddenly Gandalf cut himself off.

The sound of shuffling reached his ears and just as he was about to pull back and get out of sight the door was wrenched open. Losing his balance Harry tumbled forward, crying out as he hit the floor, hard.

"What do we have here?" Gandalf questioned, looking down upon Harry as on hand calmly stroked through his beard. "Eavesdropping, are we, Harry?"

Wincing, Harry quickly stumbled to his feet, righting himself up to guiltily look at the wizard.

"I was just curious," He answered, restlessly shifting from one foot to the other, in that moment he would have given anything to be able to make himself invisible. "No harm done, right?"

"That depends..." Elrond cut in, glaring down at the youth standing in front of him. "How much did you hear?"

"Not much, just that someone's confirmed something and Gandalf doesn't want me to know what." He replied, facing the elf head on, he would not back down; yes, he was at fault for listening in on a private conversation, but it was something that concerned him so, to be fair, he actually had the right to listen.

"Ah, then I believe it is safe to release you." Gandalf said, a small smile quirking his lips upwards as a small glint of mischievousness lit up his eyes. "Go on, get to bed. It is important for you to get enough rest if you're going to be coming with us on this journey."

"Alright," Harry replied, eyes narrowing as he recognized the glint in Gandalf's eyes. "Goodnight then."

"Goodnight."