AN: I had some questions after the last chapter about The Fellowship not realizing Harry was a girl and why she wasn't behaving or thinking more femininely. I actually have a sub-plot concerning her mistaken gender further into the story (look forward to that) so please don't think I've just been inserting feminine pronouns willy-nilly, just for the heck of it. As it is now, I feel I should explain some things to you.
Forgive me, I tend to ramble. I promise not to make a habit of novel-length a/ns.
1)Yes, Harry is supposed to be mistaken for a boy, I made her a bit of a tomboy exactly for that reason; they think she's like the wizards of their world who assume the form of old men, or in her case, a young boy. Such a medieval world with very defined gender roles like in Middle Earth would hardly have many men – however freedom-fighting and good the Fellowship are – that would expect a teenage girl to be just as capable as any boy. If they knew right off the bat that she was a girl, they'd hardly be as casually brutish as they have been and they would be planning to drop her off that the nearest village where she could 'tend to hearth and home.'
In the books – and I challenge you to read them again if you don't believe me – the main women were either placed on a pedestal so high, she wasn't consider a regular person (Galadriel); a passing side-note that came to take her place as trophy wife in the end (Arwen); a daffy peasant that was only good for healing (some old woman who I can't even remember the name of, she was that unimportant); and a damsel, pining after unrequited love, who only proved to have some worth after her deus ex machina moment (Eowyn). I know that in the movies, the sexism is turned down, but that is the world of LoTR.
2) A blushing, stuttering twit of a girl would be a useless tool in the Potterverse, let alone Middle Earth; this is exactly why Lavender and Parvati were never important characters. GirlHarry is more or less exactly the same as BoyHarry, discounting, of course, the plumbing, the wiring of the brain, and female experiences. Harry Potter, abused orphan who's had to fight for her life, has very little space in her mind for girly insecurities. This story takes place after the fiasco at the Department of Mysteries, Harry is too caught up in trying to defeat Voldemort, grieving for Sirius, and now surviving in a foreign reality to gaze dreamily at Legolas' super-hot bod. Oh, sure, she notices, but there are more important things to think of.
My own principles with gender equality colours my writing, but I don't see why I can't write a story where my female main character could easily be switched into a male character with the story remaining the same if I wanted it. I'm only writing fem!Harry in this case because I understand female thought-process better.
And to the guest reviewer, Acier Damac: I was originally going to just beta-edit the original story so it wouldn't be so painful to read, like it was in first few chapters, and repost it in the proper cross-over section, since it isn't listed with the other LoTR fics. My own ideas will be scattered throughout the original, but the majority of my own writing will come in where the original story left off.
And now I return you to your regularly scheduled chapter:
Chapter Four: Of Monsters and Men
There had only been one time in Harry's entire life when she'd actually seen a dead person up close. The handsome Cedric Diggory – the one she had a bit of a brush on – had even died in front of her, dropping straight to the ground like a stone plunging into the ocean. She had seen Sirius die, but that wasn't the same thing – he hadn't left a body behind; it was more that Sirius had been taken far away and would never return. Now, only a few weeks after her godfather's demise, Harry hadn't thought she would have to witness a death so soon, and one that reminded him so much of Cedric's, too, so sudden and unexpected.
Legless.
He was dead.
Harry had awoken that morning to a small film of sunlight seeping over the horizon, shining faintly past the tiny leaves of the trees and casting odd shapes on the sleepers in the clearing. It seemed a perfectly tranquil setting, with no indication of the tragedy Harry was about to witness. No one in the Fellowship had troubled to wake themselves yet, except Harry, and as soon as she did, she wished she hadn't, because she'd immediately spotted a dead Legless.
Legless had been lying stiffly on the hard, cold earth, eyes wide, glazed, unseeing . . .
It was then that Harry had started panicking. Some thing had crept up to the Fellowship during the night and murdered Legless on his watch duty!
Harry didn't know what sort of creatures lurked in the night in Middle Earth, so her mind traveled – subconsciously – straight to the magical creatures on her own world that could have been responsible for this. Her immediate thought had been a lethifold. They were rather like dementors, in that a Patronus could stop them, and that they projected the feelings of horror and despair. They were just the sort of creature that could have killed Legless without attracting anyone's notice. Silent and deadly were the lethifolds, preying on the unsuspecting.
As soon as Harry had come to that conclusion, guilt had settled like a fiery rash in the pit of her stomach. If only she had been awake! If only she hadn't gone to sleep! If she hadn't been so tired, could she have heard Legless being attacked?She knew how to cast a Patronus; she could have defeated the lethifold, stopped it before it snacked on Legless.
Harry's panicked mind, which hadn't fully woken up until a full minute later, then fell into a forced calm as she tried to think logically. She couldn't be one hundred percent sure that it was a lethifold, could she? It was likely they didn't even exist in Middle-Earth, and even if they did, she wasn't any more at fault than any other of the Fellowship who also hadn't been awake to save Legless. She wasn't to blame just like Sirius' fall wasn't her fault.
Then, once Harry's panic attack was completely over, she awkwardly, reluctantly, stood on shaky knees and made her way over to Legl – the corpse. There was no use in thinking of the body as a person still when the person inside was gone. Harry stood staring stupidly, disbelievingly, at the dead man at her feet. How could this have happened? Why did it happen? Why now?
What if the Fellowship thought she had done it? They would certainly be suspicious if it; they already suspected her of spying as it was. Harry gulped against a suddenly raw throat at the sight of Gimling's battle-axe in the corner of her vision. Would the dwarf be happily cleaning Harry's blood off the sharp edges in the near future?
Harry gave herself a good, hard pinch. She was being stupid. They wouldn't blame her. Gandalf trusted her, after all. Gandalf would believe her.
Her decision made, Harry shuffled silently over to the snoring old wizard and peered speculatively down on him. His large wizard's hat lay on top of his face but despite that obscurity, he still looked a lot like Dumbledore. Perhaps it was a common theme for wizards to fit into this stereotypical image? Long white hair and beard, long crooked nose, spectacular robes that brushed the ground. Though, Gandalf's could hardly be termed spectacular. Monkish, would be a better description.
Harry ran her hand through her short hair and gave it a good tug. What was she doing? Stalling for time? Actually, now that she thought about it, it seemed she was doing exactly that. Nervousness didn't even cover Harry's feelings in that moment. Potential trouser-wetting might better describe her state of mind. She wasn't even surprised to feel her hands had gone all sweaty.
Harry took a deep breath, then leaned over to nudged Gandalf with her hands. The wizard made a sort of mumble in his sleep, but other than that, he showed no indication he'd felt Harry's hands on his shoulder.
Harry pouted but tried a different tactic: She leaned forward again and plucked Gandalf's hat off of his face. If that didn't wake him then –
Harry jumped back in horror, nearly tripping over her own feet.
Wide, unseeing eyes, cold and hard . . .
He was dead!
Was everyone dead then? Harry quickly scoured the camping area, and to her relief, found the gentle rise and fall of breath on the rest of her companions, indicating that, yes, they were still very much alive and, no, she didn't need to drop to the ground like a wailing tot.
But wait! Something didn't make sense. Hadn't Gandalf been snoring? Harry looked down at Gandalf and, yes, he still was. Without noticing her actions, Harry reached up and scratched her head in that universal gesture that smacked of confusion and dumbness, the first time Harry was ever forced to put on such a display.
What was going on?
Harry looked from Gandalf to Legless, repeating this motion three more times, then finally stopping to peer intently at the glowing man. Was that a rise of his chest she just saw? Yes.
He was alive! Harry felt like whooping!
. . . and then she felt like an idiot.
Obviously, in Middle Earth wizards and what ever Legless was, slept with their eyes open, no matter how odd it seemed.
She felt like a right sort of numbskull. She may as well bash her head over repeatedly with a sign that read: 'Really stupid twat here! 2 pounds for admission.'
Harry snorted. That would be a sight many would pay to see. The Girl Who Lived, publicly humiliated, even more so than before. Fudge would certainly dance to that.
Harry shook her head at the absurdity of her relieved thoughts. She had no cause to think of Fudge now. She had no cause to think of any of the problems she had while on earth. As a matter of fact, here, in Middle-Earth, she was free! No one knew who she was! No one knew she was famous; no one would stop to gawk, rudely pointing at her forehead. No one here knew about the Girl Who Lived and why she lived. And most importantly, they didn't care!
Harry's stomach gave a pleasant jolt that traveled up her chest and into her heart. She was finally a nobody and she loved it!
A large weight landed on her shoulder, talons digging uncomfortably, though familiarly, into her skin.
"Hello, lovely." Harry gave Hedwig's wing an affectionate stroke.
Hedwig rubbed her head against her cheek, all the while making a low, almost indistinct rasping noise, presumably out of pleasure. An owlish purr perhaps.
"You're awake early; did you get any sleep in?"
Hedwig hooted. Loudly.
Harry wasn't prepared for the reaction it caused.
Legless sprang to his feet with an odd flexibility Harry had only ever seen in frogs, whipping out his sling and arrows. Gimling shot up from his pallet, snatching his enormous axe, and stood with legs apart, breathing gruffly. Both the muggles rolled over and reached for their swords, not quite as fast or sprightly as Legless and Gimling, but fast enough to surprise Harry. Gandalf jumped up as well, but he held his staff parallel to his body, as if knowing that there was no real danger.
By the end of this stampede of action, everyone besides Gandalf had aligned their weapons straight in Harry's wide-eyed direction, looking like they might make use of them at any moment. The little people, however, snored on, oblivious to the raging conflict.
"Uh . . ." said Harry.
There was a small twitter in the distance as a bird greeted the new day.
"Put your weapons down!" snapped Gandalf. Clearly he was not a morning person. Harry absently noted that she now understood what he meant even though she didn't know the words he used. How very odd. She'd have to tell him later.
The four men obliged, but Legless, Gimling, and Bore-me-dear did so with great reluctance and a lot of grumbling – which came mostly from the dwarf. Aragorn was the only one who looked abashed.
"Well, this is certainly a festive way to start the morning!" exclaimed Gandalf, frowning a little below his eyebrows. "We shan't have another spectacle like this tomorrow, shall we?"
Everyone, including Harry, mumbled their apologies.
"Where's the breakfast?" a sleepy voice asked. "Don't tell me we're on our way, now. I haven't eaten anything yet!"
"Peregrin Took!" Gandalf exclaimed in exasperation. Harry almost snorted. "You would think of your stomach even if death were upon you." Peregrin Took grew distinctly red in the face. Gandalf continued. "But you are due to wake up now, and wake you will, yourself and the others."
The little man jumped to Gandalf's suggestion, first going to the chubby little darling called Sam – the mushy part of Harry admitted that all four of them really were quite adorable – and fairly ordering him to start breakfast, then went to nudge the rest from their sleep.
Half an hour later, Harry sat near Pippin – which she found out to be Peregrin Took's nickname – and another little person called Merry around the morning fire, enjoying a meal of hot sausages, cheese, tomatoes, and homemade bread. The sausages weren't bad either. They reminded her of Hagrid's the first time she and Harry had met in that hut on the sea.
Pippin and Merry were chattering gaily, every once in a while making a comment in Harry's direction, not letting her feel left out even if she didn't understand them very well. She appreciated how they didn't act awkwardly around her.
"Gimli is a dwarf, in case you didn't know," Merry said, waving about a sausage. Harry cocked her head at 'Gimli'; there was a word she recognized! "They're very strong you know, dwarves I mean – "
"Well they'd have to be Merry," said Pippin, in a half knowledgeable, half mischievous tone. "D'you see how big that axe is? Almost the length of me; give an inch and take off the bit that severs heads and the measure would be the same."
"Right you are, Pip!"
Harry sniggered at their cheery banter.
"D'you see that now? You made him laugh at me!"
"Well if he laughs it's nobody's business but his own."
A few words would jump out at her here or there, making her increasingly frustrated. Gandalf had said she was sent by the Valar to help the ragtag band on their quest, but she could hardly be as effective as she could be if she couldn't understand them.
Harry carefully placed her plate next to her on the boulder she was sitting on before leaning over to nudge a stone into her hand. She brushed the dirt off of it while her small companions looked on. She lifted the rock so it was easier to see and held it up to the one called Pippin.
Pippin looked at her, and then down at the rock in confusion before turning to Merry to share a bewildered look.
"D'you . . . d'you want me to take it?" Pippin asked, hesitantly reaching out. Harry saw what he was going to do and shook her head, pulling the rock away.
Harry pressed a hand to her chest and said, "Harry." Before they could ask, she pointed at the nearest small person and said, "Pippin," and hardly pausing before pointing and saying, "Merry." Then she held the rock up again and pointed at it, looking at them expectantly.
"Oh, I get it now!" Merry cheered. He pointed at the stone in Harry's hand and said, "Rock."
"Rock," Harry echoed and smiled briefly in accomplishment before reaching out for the next nearest inanimate object. She held up the plate she had previously set down.
Pippin caught on and said, "Plate."
They continued their simple game of Harry repeating whatever the two said, moving about the camp and pointing out the various things laying around. They received indulgent looks from Gandalf and the other two little people, Sam and Frog-o, and blank looks of caution from those that were still uncomfortable around Harry.
The green-eyed wizard found that the more someone spoke to her in Westron – and she was doubly glad that theses particular someones were Merry and Pippin since they spoke quickly and therefore double what other someones would speak – the more she started understanding; now instead of just bits and pieces like last night and earlier this morning, chunks of phrases now made sense. Maybe Gandalf's language forcing spell was delayed because of how it reacted with her magic? Add on top that she was also learning by parroting her perky teachers and Harry was ready to give the lingua franca of Middle Earth a spin.
"What you?" asked Harry slowly in tentative Westron. "Er – What are you guys? I am wizard but not know what are you."
Harry was rather proud that she managed a sentence even if it was in broken Westron but wondered if that had been too rude a question. Fortunately the hobbits didn't think so. On the contrary, they seemed to get excited.
"Look how well we're teaching 'em!" Merry crowed, preening in the direction of their watchers. He turned back to Harry and said, "Well first of all, we aren't guys, whatever those are. We, my good sir, are hobbits," concluded Merry in a very formal tone and knuckling his forehead.
"You are hobbits," said Harry with dawning comprehension in her eyes. "But also, you are guys."
"I'm sorry, Harry, but I think I would have known if I was a guy," said Pippin.
Harry huffed in amusement. "'Guy' is also word for 'man'. You are guy, Legless is guy, Gandalf – "
Harry stopped abruptly because Pippin and Merry had cracked into full-out laughter.
"What?" Harry ask. Had she accidentally made a joke?
"L-Legless!" said Merry, barely managing to gasp the word out, then went on chuckling.
"That his name, yes?" asked Harry, her tone hopeful and embarrassed at the same time.
"No, Harry," said Pippin, managing to calm down somewhat. "It's Le-go-las. But I see where you got confused. Elvish names can be a muddle in the head, my head anyway."
"Everything's a muddle in your head, Pippin," Merry said.
Before Pippin could open his mouth to reply, Harry jumped in. "I think maybe I confuse more names, too," she admitted.
"Not to worry," said Pippin, with a sly look at Merry, and for a split second Harry was reminded of the Weasley twins. "Just tell us the ones you think you got wrong, and we'll help you."
During the course of the next two minutes, amidst uproarious hobbit laughter, Harry discovered that his Frog-o was actually Frodo, Bore-me-dear – This one had them crying and holding their guts while the man in question looked on in a mixture of amusement and anger – was Boromir, and Gimling was Gimli, though, the last one wasn't much of a difference in Harry's opinion.
Then she remembered something. "What do you mean when said 'Legolas' elvish name?"
Pippin answered with a mouthful of bread and cheese. "'ell, 'e's an ef, 'arry. I taut n'dalf shai' eu 'ad evs in or world."
"What?"
Pippin gulped down his food and cleared his throat. "I said he's an elf. How could you not know? I thought Gandalf said you had elves in your world."
An elf?
"We have elves but they not look like Legolas."
Pippin frowned, puzzlingly while Merry looked up in interest. "What do they look like then?"
"I think they are not the same. They are maybe this tall," Harry held her arm out more or less the same height as the hobbits.
The two hobbits started sniggering. "Imagine that, Merry. Elves in Harry's world are the size of hobbits."
"I think they are not the same," Harry repeated, certain in her thoughts that house-elves and whatever kind of Elf Legolas was were as closely related as a fish was to a moose. "At home, they are very small, have big eyes, big ears – "
"Sounds like a baby goblin to me," Merry interrupted, a keen look in his face.
"Have goblins too but very different to House-elves."
"Why do you call them house-elves?" asked Pippin.
Harry wasn't sure if it was a good idea to go into greater detail about house-elves. It certainly wouldn't sound good if she were to explain their lot in life to people who have never met a regular house-elf in all its joyful, work-frenzied rapture. If Legolas was an elf, he was clearly from a race of free elves and wasn't treated at all like the elves in Harry's world. No point in bringing up trouble and offending people.
"Just what they are called," she told them.
Sam abruptly appeared before them, holding a quarter full plate of sausages. "Would you like some more, Mister Harry? They have to go now or they'll spoil."
Sam, thought Harry, was the one reminding her more and more of a house elf.
"No thank you, I am done."
Merry and Pippin however, looked delighted. "Gives them to us then, Sam!" they said, and snatched the remaining sausages from the plate. Harry had a feeling they often pilfered things without permission.
Sam squawked. "I was just going to ask Gandalf if he'd like some more. Thanks to your greedy guts, I've nothing but an empty plate to offer him."
"Better an empty plate than nothing at all," said one or the other. Harry wasn't too sure which since she was busy smothering her laughter.
"What's this?" said Gandalf, coming from his boulder to hover over them. "Cease this folly, Peregrin Took! You as well, young Master Brandybuck. Why aren't you ready? We are leaving. Samwise, should you pack Bill, or should we leave without him?"
"Bill!" Sam exclaimed, and rushed off to tend the pony.
"The rest of you should best gather your belongings," said Gandalf, and walked off to the huddle that was Aragorn, Boromir, Gimli and Legolas.
The rest of the next few hours passed in much the same manner, with the hobbits teaching Harry little words, though, by the end of the morning, nobody really had time to talk much; they were too busy trying to catch their breaths.
Up, down, and in between small grassy hills they went, across boulders, through tree clusters, and passed lonesome landmarks every once in a while. For miles they traveled, Harry wishing she could ride her Firebolt, but feeling uncomfortable about traveling in relative comfort while the others trudged their way on foot; it felt rather like cheating. Not to mention her taking off from the ground would likely start a panic and Harry wouldn't put it pass Legolas to shoot her full of arrows in the confusion.
Still, as they traveled until well into the sun's zenith, Harry wondered when they were going to stop for a rest and some food. Pippin sadly informed her that they weren't going to stop until nightfall, something he had learned the hard way, it seemed.
But Harry had another problem; she needed the loo. The last time she had been was probably a day ago, so she wasn't exactly surprised but that didn't mean she had to welcome it.
What to do?
Every now and then, she would spot one or two of the Fellowship dropping behind, presumably for the chance to use the back of a tree, but Harry was neither very outdoorsy nor a boy, and even if she had been, she would have been just uneasy since she'd hardly be the type to boldly walk up to a tree and water the plants without a care in the world.
If only she could set up her tent again and use the loo there! That was one of the main reasons she brought the thing along, so she would always have a proper bathroom. Should she risk it? Harry wasn't sure if she wanted the others to witness more of her unusual brand of magic. If she dropped back now, to get a safe distance away so they wouldn't see her tent, everyone would know what she was doing. They might even stop, too, as they did with the hobbits, to assure there was no danger, completely negating the point of Harry dropping back in the first place.
And even if they didn't want to assure she stayed safe, she couldn't guarantee someone wouldn't follow her, perhaps on the thought that they might as well utilize the opportunity. Harry had a sudden image of Gimli squatting behind a boulder, hacking the leaves off the nearest tree with his axe, then putting the leaves to their much needed use.
Harry shuddered and cursed her vivid imagination
Then there was also the awkward fact that Harry didn't feel at all comfortable with the Fellowship, besides Gandalf, Merry, and Pippin, whom she liked very much. An unfortunate majority of the dangerous ones – unfortunate majority, as in all of them – had tried to kill her after all.
A moment's deliberation yielded no alternative plan. She gripped the inside of her cloak and sucked in her bottom lip. There was nothing for it; she would have drop back.
Harry casually, and quite surreptitiously, so as not to cause notice, began slowing down. Half an hour later she was near the back of the group and getting desperate.
'Just a few more minutes, Harry. Hold on for just a few more minutes.'
But Harry had forgotten something; the person bringing up the rear of the group was Boromir, hardly Harry's best friend. Highly suspicious, highly muscled, and – Harry could help but take a whiff as she stepped in line with the weapon-clad warrior – highly odorous.
'Sweet Merlin, why hasn't deodorant been invented yet?'
How was she ever going to sneak pass Boromir's notice? Harry put her hand in the pocket of her robes and fingered her wand. Should she?
Well, it was an emergency.
Her mind made up, Harry slipped her wand from out of her pocket and discreetly pointed it at the sword sheath tied to Boromir's belt.
"Descendo," she whispered. The tie unlooped itself and the heavy weapon clattered painfully onto Boromir's feet, causing him to yell out and stumble a little. Harry took the opportunity and shot off into a thick copse of trees the had just passed while the big man's attention was elsewhere. She hadn't counted on Boromir yelling out in pain and she was lucky she had gotten out of there before anyone turned around.
She dearly hoped no one noticed her missing.
A few minutes later, Harry stepped back out into the open, satisfyingly relieved and face freshly washed. She jogged to catch up with the rest of the Fellowship. They hadn't gotten very far, and Harry knew the two reasons why. The first was that the hobbits couldn't walk as fast as the rest of them, so the Company deliberately slowed down as not to leave any behind. It made for a leisurely walk, but meant that they wouldn't be getting to their destination anytime soon. The second was because it was past lunchtime and nobody really felt like rushing anyway, being too tired from the long trek as it was.
Just as Harry stepped behind Boromir, Merry asked, "Oh, Harry, I thought we'd lost you! Where were you?"
There were a lot of heads turning every which way as the Fellowship tried to find her. Finally, Boromir turned about and found himself with a face full of teenage girl.
"What are you doing back there?" he asked in, Harry's opinion, an excessively mistrustful tone. She shrank back, and shuffled closer to the hobbits, unwilling to seem confrontational to a person that swung his sword freely.
The rest of the Fellowship paused and turned.
"Shoelace," she lied, hoping there were such things as shoelaces in this world. "Also rocks in my shoes."
Boromir glared at her, but other than that, he gave no indication he might believe Harry. In fact, he turned right around and continued walking, the rest of the Fellowship doing the same.
Harry meandered along with the hobbits, thinking she had to be stupid to use magic on Boromir when she could have just used the excuse of tying her shoelace to lag behind in the first place.
The rest of the day continued as before, although with less cheer since the hobbits were too winded to be in high spirits. Gandalf and Gimli led the troupe nearer to a particularly cluttered group of mountains. As they came closer, the ground grew less green and more red, and the trees virtually disappeared. No birds dotted the sky.
Eventually, they came across a deep channel in the ground, as dry as sandpaper. But near it was a path, broken and decayed, winding its way around the ruined walls and paving stones of an ancient highroad.
"Ah! Here it is at last!" said Gandalf, stopping briefly to stare. "This is where Sirannon, the Gate-stream ran. But what has happened to the water, I cannot guess; it used to be swift and noisy. Come! We must hurry on. We are late as it is."
They followed the winding road for many miles, Harry feeling footsore and tired. She was used to hard physical labor and insurmountable chores but her endurance had never been tested like this. She covertly wiped sweat from her brow.
'How much longer?'
They rounded corners and veered off in all directions until Gandalf finally pointed to a low cliff with a broken and jagged top. Over it, trickling water dripped through a wide cleft.
"Hmm," said Gandalf. "Indeed things have changed since last I was here. But if I remember correctly, there was a flight of steps cut into the rock at the side. Let us go and see if it is still there."
They found the steps, everyone besides Gimli slowly trudging up them. Harry learned, by questioning the hobbits, that Gimli's cousin or something lived to where they going, and that was why he was so excited. Finally, they reached the top of the steps, only to found that the cliff where the water was trickling out of wasn't a cliff, but a dam.
"Now we know where the Gate-stream water went!" said Gandalf, frowning a little.
The water, Harry saw, looked like a black, ominous lake. And at the back of the lake were vast stone cliffs, their faces pale and scraggly in the fading light. It looked like a dead end to Harry.
But not to Gandalf, it seemed. "There are the walls of Moria," he said, pointing across the water. "We will have to either produce a boat or go up the slopes to get to the other side of the lake. In any case, we cannot take Bill."
Sam cried out his protest in distress.
"Confound it, Samwise Gamgee!" snapped Gandalf, tired from the long trek and losing what little patience he had. "The beast has four legs and hoofs. He cannot climb the slopes."
Sam grudgingly complied, and went to get the packs from the pony's back.
Gandalf's expression softened. "He will be safer away from here, Sam. He knows the way home. He will be alright."
Harry thought she heard Sam sniffle.
As Bill the Pony trotted off the way they came, Gandalf led the group up the slopes – "We might as well climb to the sun," grumbled Merry – then down the slopes – ironically, Harry almost lost her hat while tripping over her shoelaces. By the time they reached the narrow strip of land between the cliff face and the lake, it was completely dark, the light of the moon their only beacon in the night.
They made their way across the strip. Harry jumped in alarm when she heard a loud 'plop' directly on her right. She then soon after sighed in relief; a fish had just flopped in and out of the water.
The rest of the Fellowship however, grew wary, staring intently at the black pool as it bubbled unnaturally where the fish landed back in.
Harry gulped. Was that supposed to happen?
Suddenly, Frodo, who was walking in front of Harry, slipped on the wet mud on the lake's banks, his foot plunging into the water. Harry shot forward and caught him before he became completely submerged.
"Thank you, Harry," he said, staring at the water and shuddering.
"No problem," Harry said uncertainly, stepping back from Frodo. Something wasn't right about this hobbit. He gave Harry an ugly feeling. Harry felt as though she wanted to be completely away from him, but completely near him at the same time. Perhaps it was that ring thing Gandalf was talking about?
They trudged onwards a little ways and came across two of the biggest holly trees Harry had ever seen; their gigantic roots were submerged like two great claws into the lake. Miraculously, on one of the branches of the trees, looking quite at home and completely comfortable, sat Hedwig.
"Hedwig!" Harry cried, and as the astonished Fellowship watched, the owl swooped down and landed on Harry's shoulder.
"How did she know to find you?" asked Legolas, coming to stand next to Harry.
Harry shrugged, stroking Hedwig's feathered breast with her knuckles. "Hedwig is very smart."
Then the Fellowship watched in complete speechless bafflement as Hedwig thrust out her chest importantly, and began to preen her feathers.
"It seemed as though she was waiting for you. She truly is a remarkable bird," said Legolas, staring in awe at Hedwig, the rest of the Fellowship mumbled their agreement.
Harry, meanwhile, was enjoying the novel experience of being completely looked over. As Harry Potter, never had she ever been completely dismissed and looked at with uninterested eyes; she rather enjoyed her unimportance in this universe. That Hedwig was getting her due admiration was the icing on the cake.
Gandalf stood between the holly trees, running his hand over the cliff face. "Well, here we are at last!" he said. "Here the Elven road from Hollin ended. The Elves planted holly on the West-door, for holly was the token of their people. Those were happier days, when there was still friendship at times between folk of different races, even between Elves and Dwarves." Gandalf looked pointedly and Gimli and Legolas.
"It was not the fault of the Dwarves that the friendship waned," said Gimli.
"I have not heard that it was the fault of the Elves," retorted Legolas.
"Be silent!" said Gandalf, and everyone looked startled. Gandalf seemed to be a lot crabbier than usual that day, and even the littlest slight set him off. "I am not in the mood for your bickering," he continued. "I will need your help before the night is out. The doors are shut and hidden, and the sooner we find them the better!"
Gimli moved forward, tapping the stone with his axe, Legolas leaned against the rock, as if listening. Gandalf however, stood there staring at it. "It mirrors only starlight and moonlight," he mumbled. Walking up to the stone, he ran his hands over it, as though tracing patterns. "Can you see anything now?"
To everyone's surprise, something like a silvery, gossamer, spider's web began forming, until it merged into the unmistakable shape of a doorway. Runes ran down the side and across its arch.
"What does the writing say?" asked Frodo, who looked like he was trying to read the inscriptions on the arch.
"They do not say anything important," said Gandalf. "They only say: The Doors of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter. And underneath that is written: I, Narvi, made them. Celebrimor of Hollin drew these signs."
"What does it mean by speak, friend, and enter?" asked Merry.
"That is plain enough," said Gimli. "If you are a friend, you speak the password, and you can enter."
Personally, Harry thought it was too obvious, but didn't say anything.
"Do you know the password, Gandalf?" asked Boromir.
"No!" said the wizard.
The others looked dismayed.
"What then was the use of bringing us to this accursed spot?" cried Boromir, glancing back with a shudder at the dark water. "You told us you had once passed through the mines. How could that be if you don't know how to enter?"
Gandalf let out an angry expulsion of breath. "I don't know the password, but I shall know it. I once knew every spell in all the tongues of Middle Earth. It will come to me. And as for your other question," he continued, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Have you no wits left? I did not enter this way. I came from the East."
Boromir went rather like Ron did when he grew embarrassed.
Gandalf touched the rock with his staff. "Annon edhellon, edro hi ammen! / Fennas nogothrim, lasto beth lammen!"
Nothing happened.
An hour passed with Gandalf reciting various spells from several languages, and still nothing happened. Finally, Gandalf threw his staff on the ground and, grumbling, plonked down on a nearby rock.
The Fellowship stared with disappointed.
Suddenly Pippin leaped to his feet.
"I know!" he said, excitedly. "Why doesn't Harry try?"
Everyone, including Gandalf, turned to look at a flummoxed Harry.
Harry shifted uneasily where she had seated herself on a convenient boulder. Somehow she doubted the unlocking spell would be of much use. Would her magic be able to interact with the enchantments here to begin with?
"Harry?" Gandalf prompted.
"Er . . . well, I suppose I can give it a try. I mean, I know a spell to open locked doors but I'm not sure how much good it would do on such a heavily bespelled entrance . . ." she trailed off as the Company, who were beginning to look hopeful, deflated again.
"Give it a try anyway, Harry," said Gandalf. Pippin pushed her forward to stand in front of the doors, Hedwig's sharp claws clutching her shoulder blade as the bird struggled to keep her balance.
Harry took out her wand and pointed it at the doors, not completely able to ignore the intense looks she was getting. Best to get this over with quickly.
She had just opened her mouth when she felt the faintest tremor wisp through her wand.
What?
Not a moment later, the tremor gave way to a violent vibration that had Harry's whole arm shaking with it.
The Fellowship looked on in apprehension. Hedwig hooted.
What was –? Of course! Harry turned her gaze on the holly trees. Could it be, that because her wand was made of holly, it was reacting to the aura stemming from the two trees? Didn't Gandalf tell her the previous day when explaining Middle Earth, that there were some plants here that had their own type of natural magic? Like the plants she studied in Herbology. If that were true, wouldn't it make sense that her holly wand reacted to its Middle-Earthian counterparts?
Harry decided to test her theory.
She took a step back, so that her body wasn't aligned with the holly trees and the palpitations in her wand halted immediately. Harry sighed with relief. She didn't know how much more bizarreness she could take.
He saw Gandalf in the corner of his vision, observing knowingly.
"Are you going to go about it then?" asked Gimli, with an irritated tone.
"Patience Gimli," said Gandalf. "Harry's magic has reacted to the enchantment on the door, just as it was said that it would. But as you can see, it has now ceased. If you would resume, Harry?"
Harry nodded, not bothering to correct Gandalf's assumption. It would be too difficult to explain anyway. Besides, he had come close. Harry pointed her wand at the door. "Alohamora!"
A beam of golden light flared to life from her wand and traveled through the air toward the door. Unfortunately, before the spell could strike, the beam seemed to hit an invisible barrier. The magic crackled, bleeding out in all directions like foreign liquid in water, and dispersed before it could take effect. Harry slumped forward and ran her fingers through her hair in frustration.
There went that hope.
"There went that hope," Gimli grumbled, unknowingly echoing Harry's thoughts. "I thought Gandalf said you were powerful!"
Harry looked at him angrily but didn't contradict the surly denouncement. She huffed and plopped back down where she had previously been seated.
"Gandalf did say that their magicks were different," Merry said, defending Harry's lack of results while Pippin patted her knee in commiseration. "Maybe he couldn't break through the enchantment because the magic was too different."
"Merry is right," said Gandalf. "Our magicks are each potent in their own way."
A couple of minutes later found everyone brooding again. Harry watched from her spot by the first holly tree – her wand gently trembling in her robe pocket – as Boromir picked up a stone and chucked it in to the lake. The bubbles appeared again as they had with the fish, and this time they didn't go away.
"I wish you hadn't done that," she heard Frodo say.
Gandalf sat with his head in his hands, and looked to be in deep thought. Then he jumped up with a suddenness that startled them all. "I have it!" he cried, laughing. "A riddle. It was riddle all along, and an absurdly simple one." Picking up his staff and lining it at the door he said in a clear voice: "Mellon!"
Harry's jaw dropped. The door creaked open, showing blackness inside and nothing else.
"Ha-ha!" said Gimli, happily, standing from his seat on a low rock.
The Fellowship strode forward, Gimli in the lead, Legolas by his side, and Harry trundling behind them. Gimli was talking excitedly about, of all things, meat and hospitality.
Suddenly a cry of "Gandalf!" by Sam drew their attention. Everyone turned around just in time to see Frodo, wrapped in a slimy, green tentacle, hanging twenty feet in the air.
Aragorn, Boromir and Gimli rushed forward as Sam hacked at the tentacle with his short sword. It released Frodo into Aragorn's outstretched arms, and for one glorious moment, everyone thought they had won. But then, twenty more tentacles shot out, knocking everyone aside except Frodo, which one of tentacles grabbed again. Along with the writhing tentacles had come a gigantic, slimy head with a wide, cavernous mouth.
The giant squid? What was it doing here? Harry thought stupidly, not realizing the absurdity of her line of questioning.
Legolas strung his bow and let it fly at the head of the squid. It roared frighteningly, but didn't release the poor hobbit. It was Aragorn who finally saved Frodo, chopping off the tentacle that held him and catching the hobbit once again. With that accomplished everyone rushed back into the caves, the slimy tentacles following them. But the monster was too big to enter, and ended up crushing the doors so that the Fellowship found themselves in pitch darkness, the only sound heard was their frantic breaths.
Harry had never felt so useless, angry and irritated in a long while. She had rushed forward with the rest and drawn her wand, intending to blast the squid with abludgeoning hex, when her wand had started vibrating again. Harry, without noticing, had stepped in between the holly trunks. Her magic, it seemed, dried up completely when confronted by the two trees. She had meant to step back into the mine but an extra tentacle had attached itself to her and she was nearly pulled under until the monster was distracted by Aragorn chopping off the limb wrapped around Frodo.
Harry shook her head angrily. What was the point of being a wizard when she couldn't use her magic? Was she always going to have problems of this sort? She hoped she would never come across another Middle-Earthian holly tree, or she might just take up Gimli's axe.
"We have now but one choice," said Gandalf grimly, tapping his staff on the ground so that the crystal on the top lit up brilliantly. "We must take the long, road of Moria. Be on your guard! There are older and fouler things than orcs, in the deep places of the world."
"Fouler things? Would that you had listened to me, Gandalf!" cried Boromir. "Now we are trapped, and who is going to lead us out?"
"I will," said Gandalf. "Just follow my staff."
"If only we had more light," said Frodo, staring around at the preceding shadows with anxious doe-eyes.
Harry was about to take out her wand when Gandalf answered, "No Frodo. Too much light will draw attention to us. Now follow me."
The Company trudged after Gandalf with heavy feet and heavy hearts. It was as they walked under an archway and into a huge cavernous room when Harry realised she'd missed something.
"Hedwig!" she exclaimed, struck with sudden worry.
Everyone stopped to stare back at her.
"She's gone!" Harry continued, directing her frantic speech at Gandalf. "She didn't come into the caves with us. She must have flown out when that giant squid attacked us!"
"She is in a better place than us then," said Gandalf. Then he stared curiously at Harry. "You know what that monster is?"
Everyone listened with curious expressions. Harry was momentarily stumped at the attention.
"Yeah . . . sort of. We have them in my world, but they're not as nasty. There was a giant squid that lived in the lake beside my school." She thought of Dennis Creevey in his first year. "It would rescue people when they fell into the lake . . ." she stopped because everyone was staring at her in complete disbelief. "It's true," she insisted.
"Would that we had met your giant skweed instead of that monster," said Boromir.
"Indeed, that would have made this day less of a hardship," said Gandalf. "Let us be on our way."