Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings crossover
Disclaimer-
Although not really needed because if one looks at the quality of my writing to Tolkien or Rowling it doesn't really match up. I don't own either Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter.
Italics are Harry's thoughts or songs/poems/riddles/talking and Skyrim's dragon language/shouts.
Chapter 5
First Steps (Part 2)
Frodo took a kerchief and blew his nose looking wretchedly at Harry. "What was that for?"
Harry shrugged stuffing the quill in his pocket. "You guys fell asleep." He clapped his hands. "Hip hop lets go ladies." Harry sprang away from them. Looked at the path that lead down the hill and wandered towards the line of trees tops that marked the Green Way.
"We are men." Frodo said from behind him. "What did you mean to say?"
Harry turned around puzzled. The hobbits were looking at him with some bewilderment standing in a half circle looking at him. "What, I know, its a turn of phrase, means 'hurry up'." Harry turned back. "Don't you guys have that one?"
Frodo shrugged. "No." He stepped down the path. "Shall we go on?" Merry, then Sam and lastly Pippin followed him. Harry sighed glancing back to the dark line of trees that was the old forest, the Barrows rolled in both direction, towards the east the hills were studded with the standing stones, and back west to the forest he could see more hills with the jagged tooth like stones towering above the lowlands.
"Are you coming Harry?" Pippin waited a few steps down the dirt path, smiling expectantly at him.
They walked for the rest of the day going in circles and following dead ends, dusk had reached them with a brilliant display of molten gold light, clouds pink tinged and the sky in the east a deep royal blue, stars starting to glimmer and the fog began to roll over the Barrow-Downs as the night began to take hold. The temperature had dramatically dropped as the sun vanished beneath the horizon as each minute passed the fog got thicker. Holding each others sleeves they fumbled through the ever darkening hills.
They stood in a cluster, the Barrows feeling very unfriendly as the fog pressed against them. "Look." Harry was saying. "I think we should stop for the night, it's getting dangerous." Harry had slipped twice on some loose stones. "And we'll just get lost again."
"No one is arguing with you Harry." Merry nodded at Pippin, whom was falling asleep where he stood. "In fact we agree wholeheartedly." Frodo nudged Sam in the ribs to stop him from falling over.
"Oh." Harry nodded. "Lets find a spot then." He looked around helplessly at the fog. "Can you guys keeps going?"
There was a chorus of tired groans and Harry took the lead, picking the path carefully, soon the path sloped steeply upwards. They groped and fumbled, with many yawns and grunts they finally reached a another shallow saucer which the fog didn't enter. The hobbits fell asleep as soon their heads hit the ground, Harry sat with his blanket wrapped around himself back against the stone and the Sword on his lap.
"This fog is unnatural." The Sword said uneasily. "It doesn't feel right."
Harry yawned rubbing his blurring eyes. "What-ev-er you say." He peered into the gloom. He rested his head against the stone looking up at the starry sky. He blinked slowly.
"...are you listening? Harry?" Harry rolled his eyes to look at the Sword. "Hey, Harry."
Harry shook his head like a wet dog shaking off his drowsiness. "Yah, go ahead."
"Look at them Harry." The Sword hissed. "The others they are far too asleep, it hasn't been that long." It moved its head as far it could to try and look at Harry. The human had his eyes closed, was breathing deeply and the expression was a stupid look of contentment. "Harry?" The Sword murmured. "Harry?" Then louder. "Wake up for shits sake." Harry snored lightly, his head lolling to the side eyes glued shut.
"Harry?" The Sword squealed shocked. "Wake up." It looked around, the fog seemed to press closer than ever, distorted lumps seemed to leap out for a second before the shifting mass moved on. "Wake up, wake up." The Sword bit Harry's finger hard, drawing blood and making Harry flinch slightly. "Wake up, wake up you idiot." The Sword yelled.
"They belong to me now."
If the Sword could jump it would. "Holy shit, what the- who oh what are-?" From the shadowy fog a figure emerged, tall, lumbering and standing upright like a man. It made groaning sounds and its limbs seemed stringy and lean, it shuffled strongly forward and with a strength it couldn't seem to have in its wiry muscles the thing picked up Merry, and then Pippin. Hefting them on one shoulder the draugr like creature picked up Sam next.
Vanishing back into the fog the petrified Sword shouted at the Barrow Wights back. "Stop, stop, come back and put them down." It bit Harry again, futilely tried to wiggle out of the unconscious man's grip. "Wake up you dumbass." The Sword shouted. "A monster is making off with the hobbits."
"Shhh-" A pair of small hands lifted the Sword from Harrys limp hands. "Its me, Frodo." Frodo slipped behind the stone just as the Barrow Wight reappeared. They waited as still as stone behind the rock waiting until the sound of scraping dirt faded.
They waited another minute, but the creature didn't come back. Frodo relaxed his grip on the Sword. He whispered softly to the Sword. "What do we do Sword?"
"We find them." The Sword said hushedly. "We have to find them."
Frodo moved slowly, as if he were half frozen, he held the Sword in both hands, long but lighter than he expected so he had no difficulty moving his arms. "I don't know which way they went." He whispered under his breath. The hair on his arms rising, a knot of sick fear in his stomach, his hands began to sweat.
"Down here."
Two rotting hands grasped Frodo's ankles and pulled.
#
"...till the dark lord lifts his hand..."
Frodo groaned, his limbs were chilled and the air tasted like dirt. He opened his eyes slowly, the blackness receded from his vision, but the cold didn't leave his limbs. The ceiling was dirt and roots tangled above his eyes, he turned his head, he saw Merry, Pippin, Sam and Harry lying on stone slabs. On all of them were heavy gold crowns, silver rings and bracelets encrusted with diamonds and jewels, rare metals and uncut crystals spread between them, an iron sword lay on their necks, Harry's golden sword rested on his hip.
"...over dead sea and withered land..."
Frodo rolled away from the stone tables, his hand lingered on his top breast pocket, the ring under his palm. His heart thumped, resounding through his body, breathing deeply he looked back at his friends. Terrifyingly a hand was walking on its fingers towards the sword on their necks, there was wrist, a forearm, but ended at the elbow the rest of the body hidden the shadows. Frodo turned away, the droning chant filled his ears, echoing in his mind. His own breathing became harshly short, and he turned back to his friends, his hand dropped from his breast his mind made up.
"...Cold be hand and heart,
and bone and cold be sleep under stone,
ever more to wake on stony bed never..."
With a rush of energy Frodo leaped onto the table. Standing above the sleeping he took a bronze dagger from the jewels and hacked at the arm. The dagger shattered in his hand the blade crumbling into small pieces of rusty metal. The Barrow Wight snarled and with its other arm knocked Frodo off the slab.
He looked at its skull, a half rotted demented corpse, half its face fleshless, its grin harrowing. In one eye bugs and larvae crawled, the other a supernaturally bright blue iris. Its grey pallor and the stench of dead meat, the wicked and horrible grin, the lank strands of hair and the feel of its nails, sharpened to claws would stay with Frodo for the rest of his life.
Falling to the floor Frodo watched horrified as the Barrow Wight leaned over his sleeping friends. He lay there, tongue as heavy as lead, as the creature with its other arm took the iron sword, it slowly raised the sword and turned around to face Frodo. Scrambling back desperately Frodo began to whisper under his breath.
"Tom Bombadil, Tom Bombadillo...
The Wight paused, its eye watching Frodo whom stood shakily, singing louder.
"...By water, wood and hill, by the reed and willow,
By fire, sun and moon, hearken now and hear us..."
Furiously the Wight suddenly moved forward, screaming and shrieking. Frodo sang the last line.
"...Come, Tom Bombadil, for our need is near us."
The Wight stopped as if frozen. Quietly at first but then louder there was another voice singing, but from above ground.
"Old Tom Bombadil is a merry fellow,
Bright blue his jacket is, and his boots are yellow.
Frodo looked up, dirt was falling from the ceiling as if someone was dancing above them.
None has ever caught him yet, for Tom, he is the master:
His songs are stronger songs, and his feet are faster."
And then an opening appeared in the side of the cave, light shone in for a second, the Wight hissed and backed away from the sunshine, then a large figure blocked the light, his face shadowed but the unmistakable voice of Tom Bombadil cried out.
"Get out, you old wight! Vanish in the sunlight!
Shrivel like the cold mist, like the winds go wailing..."
Tom bounced into the cave as the Wright backed away. Holding its stump of an arm in front of it as if to ward Tom off.
"...Out into the barren lands far beyond the mountains!
Come never here again! Leave your barrow empty!
Lost and forgotten be, darker than the darkness,
Where gates stand for ever shut, till the world is mended."
Each word was painful for the Wight, it shrank back howling. When Tom finished the Wight stooped over and fell forward but before it hit the ground the rotting flesh of the Wight turned to dust and then there was just a pile of bones.
Frodo stood stock still until Tom Bombadil went to the sleeping quartet. The sun warmed Frodo's back, he breathed in deeply, the air tasting fresher in Tom Bombadil's wake. He walked over to Tom who was chanting;
"Wake now my merry lads! Wake and hear me calling!
Warm now be heart and limb! The cold stone is fallen;
Dark door is standing wide; dead hand is broken.
Night under Night is flown, and the Gate is open!"
Frodo watched amazed as the colour returned to his friends pale faces, the twitching of their fingers and rolling of their eyes underneath their eyelids. Tom nodded at his handy work and started to gather the precious jewels from the awakening bodies. He took the heavy torcs off their necks and slipped the jewelled rings from their fingers, with each removed item they became more and more animated.
Pippin yawned, Sam grunted and rolled off the table, Merry sneezed and Harry sat upright suddenly. "What the fu-ack-ooh!" Harry coughed and sneezed at the same time. He gasped and spluttered, jumping off the slab and bending over to hold his knees as his body tried to to do two different convulsions at the same time resulting in a shocking and mildly painful experience for Harry.
Frodo watched awkwardly. Tom ignored him and gathered the jewels from the slab, retreating outside he carefully placed them around the standing stone, touching a single ring, a simple gold band before laying it down gently.
Harry wheezed and took the proffered water from Frodo. "Shit-cakes." He wheezed after he took a swig from the canteen. The Sword began to snicker.
"Thanks." Frodo said dryly. Merry was brushing dust off Pippin as he attempted to sit up.
"Get off Merry." Pippin gently pushed him away.
"Yer covered in dust Pip." Merry backed off reluctantly.
Pippin snorted and brushed himself off. "And you're standing in bones."
Merry yelped and danced out of the bone pile. Frodo blanched and paled dramatically, he almost stepped backwards if not for the strong hand that fell on his shoulder. "Are you alright mister Frodo?" Sam asked quietly. Frodo touched the hand on his shoulder for a moment, a smile cracked his face and he said. "Yes Sam, I'm fine."
He gazed out of the burrow, ignoring the sounds of their companions behind him, just beyond the hills was the town of Bree, he could see lazy swirls of smoke drift in sky, a warm bed, soft pillows and tall walls between him and everything nasty out here. "Come on everyone." Frodo sprang forward with a sudden rush of energy. "The quicker we walk the quicker we get there."
Harry mentally grumbled, shaking his head. 'Isn't that what I keep saying?'
#
It was raining when they got to Bree's gate, not a nice light drizzle that is refreshing on a summers morning, but a heavy downpour that made the journey to the Prancing Pony miserable, muddy and freezing cold and to make matters worse the watchman decided to do his job.
Harry pounded on the gate, shouting. "Let us in." He had the hobbits clustered behind him, shivering, looking like bag of pathetic drowned cats.
A slot opened in the gate, and the toothy grinning face of the watchman, complete with his crooked nose and thinning lank hair appeared behind it. "Why Harry." The watchman began with the air of long suffering. "It is that when you get back here it's always raining."
"My bad luck." Harry groused. "Are going to let us in?"
"Harry, you know the routine." The watchman signed. "Why are out here so late?"
"Because," Harry glanced at the hobbits. "I'm escorting some friends to see some family." He gestured to the miniature huddle. "And we are staying at the Pony, so let use in." He scowled at the face behind the gate.
"Okay, okay." The watchman huffed, unbolting the gate. "You know its my job to ask questions Harry, you don't have to be so sour about it."
"When I come back and its not raining I be in a good mood, but I'm I am tired and can't stand on ceremony." Harry near snarled through the gate. The watchman raised his eyebrow.
"Do you want to be let in, because if I deem you and your friends a danger I can keep you locked out all night."
"You little- alright sorry, look its raining just let us in would ya'." Harry sighed rubbing his head. The gate swung open with some persuasion and they began the slog up to the Prancing Pony.
Even though it was heavily raining there were still people on the streets, the homeless and the drunks. Men that still had business and the flicker of thieves darting down alleyways. Harry lead the small group down the main road, it ran from gate to gate and in the center of town it became a large market square. But cramped between shops and houses, down an arterial path, Harry spotted the creaky sign with the rearing horse.
Tired and aching Harry pointed at the sign. "We've made it guys." He said. Pippin whooped and tried to ran ahead only to slip. Harry leaned over to help him up only to start sliding.
"Don't you dare." The Sword hissed in his ear. "I'm wet and if you get me muddy I so swear."
"I couldn't really care." Harry murmured. A strong hand clasped Harry's shoulder.
"Easy there." A hooded and cloaked Strider pulled him in a standing position. "Ferny came in splattered in mud a minute ago, thought with your luck you'd probably slip over."
Frodo and Sam righted Pippin. "We should get inside." Frodo said, and began to carefully walk to the Pony. "We'll meet you inside." He called to Harry.
Strider and Harry watched them enter in the inn. "Frodo I assume." Strider said after a moment.
"Yep." Harry braced himself against the wall. "That's Frodo, a take charge type of guy."
Strider nodded thoughtfully. "Did you have a nice trip?"
"It was fantastic." Harry reeked of sarcasm.
"You have to tell me all about it." Strider smirked at him.
"Lets talk inside you twats." The Sword whined. "I'm going to get water logged."
"You're a metal whinge." Harry teased. "But you're right."
#
The fire roared in the hearth, Sam and Frodo sat a hobbit sized table watching the strange man Harry followed to a table in the corner. He was extremely tall, even to a hobbit, he stood almost a full head taller than Harry. He looked dangerous, with a bow on his back and sword on his hip, his eyes were crafty and shadowed, and he moved between shadows.
Frodo met his eyes, a startling bright blue grey and quickly looked away. Looking down at his tankard he swished the warm brown liquid. "Don't let him irk you mister Frodo." Sam said quietly.
Frodo looked up at Sam, his honest blue eyes reassuring. "Its just he feels dangerous." He said softly. "But I know we can trust him."
Sam took a long sip of his beer. "You don't know him yet. Harry does and he trusts him."
"That's just it Sam, I feel that Harry is keeping something back." He glanced at Harry, who was leaning in his chair, laughing at something the stranger said. "Sometimes he goes quiet, and his eyes turn dark and I feel that Harry is dangerous."
Sam set down his mug. "You're being silly Frodo." He said. "When I first met Harry, I thought he was dangerous, frankly I didn't like him. The scar on his forehead, the one on his arm, his sword, his strange clothes and accent and I have always thought that he forces himself to laugh and smile, like he needs to remind himself." Sam took a long drought from his mug. "But that was only after a few days of meeting him. And you were so comfortable with him."
"That was because Gandalf introduced us." Frodo mumbled into his mug.
"Exactly." Sam leaned in. "I could see that Harry wasn't everything he was on the surface, but I decided to trust your judgement and I know that Harry is dangerous but not to us." He finished with a tap on the table.
Merry slid next to Frodo, holding a full pint eagerly sipping at the foam. "A full pint of Barlimans best." He whispered like he had just gotten away with stealing with a jar of cookies.
"Where's Pippin?" Frodo murmured.
"At the bar." Merry grinned past his foam mustache. "Getting one of these."
#
Harry watched Merry wobble his way back to the table where Frodo and Sam were sitting. 'Half drunk already, christ Merry.' He shook his head, not his hangover, not his problem. Harry popped a piece of gum into his mouth, savoring his fresh spearmint flavour, mourning the fact that he was down to his last two packs.
"Your friend, Frodo, he won't stop looking over here." Strider said quietly. "I don't think he likes me."
Harry shrugged, watching pippin at the bar. "Don't take it personally, your very likeable, after we get past the mud, smell and the unfriendly looks you give people." Harry grinned at Striders frown. "No, no I'm just messing with you." He looked back at Pippin. "Excuse me, damage control."
Harry stood and weaved through the press of drunks, barmaids and laughing groups of adventurers and locals. He reached the bar in time to hear Pippin say. "..-a Baggins I know a Baggins, Frodo Baggins, my cousin on my mothers side."
Harry cut in. "How many cousins do you have Pippin?" He shouted over the din.
"On my mothers or my fathers side Harry?" Pippin shouted back.
"You choose." Harry glanced at Frodo, catching his eye he gestured nodding to Pippin. Frodo nodded back and stood up. "Actually Pip, tell us how you're related to Merry." Harry shouted before retreating behind the throng of people.
Harry turned around, free to breath, the spicy smoke burning the back of his tongue mixing in a sour way with the spearmint gum. Before Harry could muscle his way back to his and Striders table there was a collective gasp, and a group stepped back pushing Harry over. Looking through legs Harry saw that the place people were standing around was empty, but he had a feeling that the commotion was caused by a certain disappearing hobbit.
Strider roughly pulled Harry off the floor, pressing a key into his hand. "Get the others to your room." He hissed before vanishing into the crowd.
Harry pushed past the crowd and tugged Merry's jacket. "Meet me at the stairs, get Pippin." Without waiting for acknowledgement Harry stepped back as a large beefy man shoved past. It took Harry a minute to find Sam, who was looking for Frodo, and meet the tipsy Merry and quiet Pippin at the stairs.
"Where's Frodo?" Sam asked. Harry hushed him and ushered up the stairs.
"Strider's got him don't worry he's safe." Harry looked around for anyone following them. "Third door down, quick."
"What about our bags?" Pippin whispered.
Harry gave the key to Sam. "I'll get them. Get inside." He darted down the stairs. Standing on the second step Harry scanned the crowd for Barliman. People had dispersed back in their groups but instead of the loud and raucous party that was the Prancing Pony they were talking quietly in clustered groups. Barliman was behind the bar, talking to eager patrons. Harry slid to the front of the bar and waited for the customers to scatter.
"Hey Barliman," Harry whispered under his breath pushing a few coins across the bar. "What room is Mister Underhill's."
Barliman tapped the bar twice and gave him a mug. "Thanks." Harry said louder. "What's going on here. It just died."
"I know." Barliman said gloomily. "Bad for business, men tend to nurse their drinks instead of drinking them when it's like this." Barliman wiped down the bar down.
"What does it take to get it jumping again?" Harry sipped at his beer, wincing at the flavour. 'Does not mix with chewy.'
Barliman sighed used to Harry's weird way of speaking. "Some music, but the band's drunk." He looked at the group of men sitting at a corner table, clearly shitfaced, a bunch of ladies sitting on their laps, clearly shitfaced as well.. "Absolutely useless." Barliman huffed. "They should be paying me to play here."
"Do they get free drinks?" Harry asked.
"Like hell, a discount but never free." Barliman was whisked away to pour some drinks by the time he had gotten back Harry was unclutching his case and pulling out his guitar.
"Who's that?" He asked. "The guy with the big nose."
"He plays the drum but one man doesn't make a band." Barliman served up another round of beer.
"You'd be surprised." Harry said wryly. He finished his mug and left the bar.
#
Strider listened to the music starting below. "The band's drunk." He murmured under his breath.
"Sorry?" Sam said. Strider ignored him, listening to the unique sound that Harry's strange instrument made. It was a lively tune, accompanied but a quick drum beat, it was a song that he had never heard before. But as the sounds of laughter and dancing drifted through the floor Strider had to credit Harry with taking attention away from the magical moment.
Strider turned around, the four of them looked a bit frightened in his presence. One was slightly drunk, another uncharacteristically quiet, the big one was glaring at him and Frodo was watching him.
He met Frodo's stare, the unnerving blue eyes judging him.
The contest went on for a few long minutes before Frodo said. "You are Strider?"
Strider nodded and blinked when his face was hidden. "Yes I am. And you Frodo Baggins need to be more careful." He shut the windows and doused the candles saying. "You are being hunted by Black Riders." He glanced both ways out of the window before drawing the curtain. "They are the Ringwraiths from Mordor, and they will never stop."
Frodo took a breath. Sam leaped in. "Sure, but who are you, how can we trust you?"
"You are brave, but you'll need help." Strider said. "I can get you to your destination, keep you safe. I know this area, and by all accounts you've never been past Bree." He went over to the door and opened it before Harry could knock. "As for who I am, I am Strider." He said simply.
Harry shook his head and commented. "You've got to tell me how you do that, Strider." He waltzed in and sat on the bed. "So what's the plan gentlemen?"
Frodo looked suspiciously at Strider before answering. "We must go to Rivendell." He said.
Harry nodded and looked to Strider. "We are being chased Strider. Big guys on horses, we can't take the roads."
"Yes I know, my men failed to stop them from entering the Shire, Harry." Strider sighed. "I can take you a longer but safer way to Rivendell. But we'll have to leave early."
"Hello." Frodo crossed his arms. "You guys know we are here."
"Sorry Frodo." Harry mumbled.
"Who are you?" Frodo looked demandingly at Strider.
Strider shrugged. "I am Strider, I am a ranger, Harry trusts me, what else is there."
The Sword squawked. "Your name maybe."
"My name is Aragorn." He said promptly.
"Hey why didn't you ever tell me your name?" Harry asked removing his muddy boots.
Aragorn shrugged again. "You never asked."
"You don't really look like an Aragorn."
"Thanks Harry."
Frodo huffed loudly. The Sword sighed along with Frodo. "I know Frodo they ignore the world while talking."
"Look." Frodo said. "You are a friend of Gandalfs and we need some help, we need to leave in the morning, and get to Rivendell without delay."
Strider looked at Harry, then at Frodo. "We cannot travel on the roads." He verified. At Frodos nod he cracked a small grin. Harry felt immediately nervous, that grin always, always, said bad things (usually Strider's Bootcamp from Hell things) were coming.
#
It was the middle of the night but Harry couldn't sleep. He was sitting cross legged in the corner of the room, the hobbits had the bed and Strider was beside the window, smoking. The Sword rested on Harry's lap. "Do you have a bad feeling?" It whispered.
Harry shushed the weapon. He listened to the eerily quiet night. There was wind, no people downstairs drinking and laughing, no one outside. "It's strange." Harry murmured. "I've never been awake this late. It's so quiet."
They waited in silence. Harry rested his head on the wall, letting his heavy eyes droop. Suddenly there was loud wail. Harry's heart jumped into his throat, he gripped the Sword's hilt tightly, eyes wide open and tiredness forgotten. He breathed slowly, rose, and stood in front of the door, his hand clutching the now unsheathed Sword.
"Relax, Harry." Strider said. "They are gone." He saw four of the riders gallop up to the inn, dismount and silently enter, gliding rather than walking, a deadly purpose in their stride, he also saw them gallop away, failing to find their quarry.
Harry sighed, and looked at the hobbits, they had been sleeping, fitfully, but sleeping nonetheless but with the piercing scream all four of them had sat up. Tired and pale, Frodo looked troubled, Pippin looked to Merry and Sam put a protective hand on Frodo's shoulder. Harry smiled wanly his heartbeat jumpy.
"Get some sleep." Aragorn said, he stood stretching. "They won't bother us again tonight." He made to leave.
Harry held his arm. "You'll be down the hall, Strider." He looked at the older man, noticing a scar on his chin that he hadn't before.
Strider nodded and left.
"You'll stay here Harry? Right?" Pippin said nervously. Harry allowed a genuine smile to break to mask.
"'Course Pip." Harry opened his case and took out a large pillow and his blanket.
Pippin watched with amazement. "How do you fit all that in there?"
"Magic Pip." Harry grinned. "Magic."
#
Harry swatted another mosquito away from his nose. He bringing up the rear of the group and was leading the pony Bill, that they had bought when leaving Bree, from Bill Ferny. The horse, despite being thin, was very reliable and happy enough the carry all the bags. He held onto Bills neck as he sank into the swampy water. "I hate you Strider." Harry muttered under his breath. Sloshing through the water, mud slid and sucked at his sodden trousers. Almost tripping the Sword squealed loudly when a splash of mud smeared across it's sheath.
"For goodness sake." Harry snapped. "You're a freaking sword, you will have guts and blood and stuff all over you and you are obsessed with being clean." He tugged on the reins and stomped, slowly, through the marsh towards Sam whom had just slipped over.
"Like you aren't freaking out right now." The Sword huffed.
The fog made Strider's figure a bit hazy in the distance and the soft breeze was aggravating because being soft it was enough to send the unsteady tumbling over into putrid water but Harry glared at Strider all the same. "Tall bastard." He helped Sam up. "'No other way' he tells me." Harry muttered. "Doesn't want to see us suffer he says, well I don't believe him." He leaned on Bill for a moment, missing the strange look Sam gave him.
#
Harry lay awake on the mossy ground, the dampness seeping through his blanket, listening to Strider, whose real name was Aragorn sing gently in a foreign language. It was cold, and the mist with thin but even so a chilly reminder of how blind they were in the Barrow-Downs. He watched the blackness, but his eyes were heavy, and soon he was beginning to nod off. The pink elephant danced across the ballroom floor leading the blue and white tiger in elegant dips and twirls, wearing suit and tie the elephant bowed to the tiger. Harry opened his eyes blinking quickly. 'What the..?'
#
Weathertop wasn't that bad, really, a run of the mill ruin, crumbling stone, a bit chilly, and a bird nest in the corner. Harry was tempted to go look for a door but had a feeling that Strider wouldn't appreciate him pissing off. So Harry was sitting at the edge of the cave looking outside, it was a room but the outside wall had fallen off and was a giant window to the plains outside.
He breathed, watching the mist float in front of his face before it dispersed. He then rubbed his very cold fingers and stuck them into his armpits. The Sword was on his lap, the metal was warm strangely, but Harry reasoned that it was magic animating it. "I wish I could do that." The Sword said.
"Do what?" Harry said.
"Breathe. Make patterns in the air." The Sword sounded mournful. "I'm alive but I don't breathe, or get hungry, I feel like metal, I'm cheated, I have a conscience but I can't move."
Harry sighed. "You've been a bit sad for a while now, you've been thinking about this for a while haven't you?" It made sense, Harry had slipped in the marsh and gotten the Sword muddy, but the Sword didn't complain other than saying 'ew'.
"I feel like I am missing something Harry, like a vital piece of me is gone." The Sword was woeful.
Harry just waited, he didn't know what to say, how he could make the Sword feel better, would lingering on the topic help? Would letting it drop? Finally Harry heaved a heavy sigh and said. "I can't hel-"
A long, loud and frighteningly familiar shriek cut Harry off and destroyed the calm that had settled on Harry since Bree. Instantly a cold shiver passed through this left half of his body, he scrambled back from the ledge and unsheathed the sword. The hobbits behind Harry dropped what they were doing, they backed up towards the wall flinching when the Black Riders screamed again and again. Harry looked over the edge, five shadows ghosted through the fog below darker than a cloudy midnight.
"Get back." Harry shouted, he turned and jumped over the bedrolls. "Up, up." He ushered them up the stairs, waiting for telltale footsteps. The highest point on Weathertop was a circular tower, with crumbling pillars and birds nests, stones older than Harry could fathom, and a conveniently a broken pillar which the hobbits could hide behind. The Sword spoke, its voice tight. "This is too exposed, they can easily surround us Harry."
The hobbits had drawn the short swords that Strider had given them, more like long daggers but in the small hobbits hands they were small swords. They weren't that shabby either, there were old weapons, Strider said, made by men of the Westernesse, the same men that built Weathertop. Harry thought that is was good because if they made this ancient structure and it was still standing what would their weapons be like.
"Hide behind the rubble." Harry ordered. The group stared at him.
"We've got daggers." Pippin said, stupidly in Harry's opinion. "We can help."
Harry turned to glare at the youngest hobbit. "Do you have any idea how to use it Pippin?" He said furiously. Pippins face paled at the expression on Harry's face. "Get behind the rocks, if you want to help, protect Frodo." Harry growled and turned his back to them, trusting them to do what he said.
Frodo and Sam stepped back and crouched behind the fallen pillar, Merry touched Pippins shoulder, "Come on, Pip, do what he says." He whispered. Then there was another screech and from the fog stepped the tall, darkly robed and frighteningly holding longsword in doubled handed grips. "Too late." Pippin murmured.
Harry readjusted his grip, even though he couldn't see them he felt the eyes of the Wraiths pierce his soul and look through him to the shivering hobbit that carried the tiny piece of metal. They stepped once in unison, twice, trice then stopped. For a second, Harry didn't dare look away to check on the hobbits. "Harry." The Sword shouted. "There is only four."
Instinctively Harry ducked and rolled as the fifth wraiths sword sliced past his head. "Shit!" Harry huffed. The Wraith swung in, Harry dodged and and slapped the wraiths sword with his own. The cruel squeal of metal filled the night.
"Go left now Harry!" The Sword screamed, a second wraiths sword missed him by a hairs breadth from behind. Harry cursed, he wasn't expecting it, attacking from behind was cowardly in Skyrim, Nordic honour demands that each combatant must engage face to face, and he'd had gotten used to it. Harry parried the first wraith and jumped out of reach of the second, out of the corner of his eye he saw another wraith approach the hobbits.
"One's coming for you guys." Harry shouted. "Where the fuck is Strider."
"I don't know." The Sword wailed as Harry ducked under a sword and tried to reach the hobbits only to be stopped by another wraith.
The wraiths pushed the attack, herding Harry away from the hobbits, all he could do was dodge and parry, unable to get away. The other two wraiths approached the hobbit silently, the hobbits had set themselves up with Merry and Pippin shoulder to shoulder, Sam behind them and Frodo behind Sam.
Harry couldn't see but he heard the sickening smacks of flesh hitting stone, the cut short enraged yell of Sam and the heart piercing pained scream of Frodo. Harry snarled and tried to drive the wraiths back from him with a series of jabs and slices.
The wraiths drove him back with increased furiousity, until the one in front of Harry exploded into flames and a primal war cry ripped into the battlefield. The one on fire dropped its Sword and like any creature would began panicking. It clawed at its cloak running from the battle, Harry had no time to watch it run as one wraith disengaged and the other attacked him.
He caught glimpses of Strider beating the wraiths, dancing between them and driving them off one by one. Harry's wraith stabbed at him, followed by a cut to his side, Harry dodged both and slashed at what could by the wraiths right shoulder, it met his blade blocking the strike, Harry immediately disengaged and stepped back, leaping out to the side Harry cut at the wraith catching its robes.
The wraith shrieked and backed off, Strider fended off two at the same time, not giving ground but leading them away from the hobbits. Sam was at Frodo's side pressing the stab wound in his shoulder, Pippin was knocked out bleeding from his head and Merry was trying to wake him up.
Harry's wraith turned away and jumped off the the tower, two followed and the last one screamed at Strider but retreated as well. Harry panted and watched the Wraiths run. 'What? why?' He thought but Sam's shout drew his attention.
Running over to Frodo, Strider was already there, he saw that the wound was in Frodo's shoulder and not much else. Strider picked up the grey dagger, uniquely made but suspiciously plain, then dropped it as it turned into dust. "Morgul blade." Strider muttered in disgust. Turning his attention to Frodo he carefully prodded the wound. Frodo whimpered and cried aloud when Striders fingers touched the tender flesh. "Harry." He said. "Go see if Pippin is alright then go below and light a fire, boil some water." Strider removed a pouch from his belt, opening it the sweet smell of Athelas wafted out.
"What about the Wraiths?" Sam said as Harry knelt by Merry and Pippin, gently examining Pippins head. He looked at Strider whom was chewing on the plant. Strider removed the crushed Athelas and packed it into Frodo's shoulder. "They won't be back tonight Sam." He said. "but we'll leave at dawn tomorrow."
#
Dawn came with a disconcerting hush, they packed quickly, quietly and set out without a word. Strider led the party, Sam and Frodo were behind him, Frodo in pain, very pale but persevering, Sam supporting him. Followed by Merry, supporting Pippin, whom was a bit dizzy from the night before, a bandage on his head and not looking at Harry. Harry hung back leading Bill the horse, a small guilt gnawing at his gut. The Sword talked quietly to him. "You handled yourself well back there, better than I expected, especially against more than one foe."
Harry sighed, he ached, his arms burned and his legs were like overused springs. He got a small scratch on his arm dodging swings and a healthy dose of respect for the wraiths, but it was not as bad as Frodo, not as bad as Pippin. Harry tugged on Bill's reigns, sighing again, gazing absentmindedly at the back of Pippins head. "Don't feel bad about Frodo." The Sword said. "There was nothing you could do."
"Yeah I know." Harry said. "I was outnumbered and they were damn good." He paused. "Do you think I was too harsh on Pippin?"
"No, I think it was foolish of Strider to give them weapons in the first place."
"Yeah but, I didn't have to be like that to him."
"It doesn't matter, you were right. They don't any idea how to use daggers in a fight, they would've gotten killed."
Harry shook his head, the Sword huffed. "Look, if you feel so bad apologize to him and explain where you're coming from."
"Yeah." Harry said shortly. The Sword clicked its beak in irritation but said nothing more.
#
The nights were growing increasingly chilly, and sunset was coming sooner and sooner, they were resting in the forest, landmarked by three ugly giants. They were camping under trolls that Bilbo was almost eaten by, or so Harry was told.
Three days had passed since Weathertop, and Frodo had gotten markedly worse. Pale, sweaty and the stab wound wasn't healing. That Strider was worried was a testament to how bad it was really was. Harry squatted by Frodo, Merry and Pippin behind him setting up camp, Strider crouched over Frodo's otherside, Sam hovering behind them.
Frodo was coughing, gasping, shivering and couldn't tell person from person. Strider redressed the wound as Harry hissed to him. "What the hell is wrong with him?"
Strider sighed. "The blade was poison, and he is turning into them. It's why they ran Harry." He gave him a significant. "No need to fight if one of their own has the Ring." Harry touched Frodo's forehead, the sweat was warm, the skin ice cold.
"You can't do anything?" Harry said softly, leaning forward.
"I have been doing something." Strider said frustrated. "I could take him with Bill and leave you here to lead the others on the road but the Riders are out there." He leaned back suddenly. "We'll keep going until we can't." He sounded grim and soldiery, Harry wondered for a moment about Strid-Aragorn's past but the moment passed.
"And then?" Harry asked.
Strider frowned and stood, not answering the question he turned to Sam whom had been creeping closer to listen in. "You're a gardener, do you know the plant Athelas?" At Sams look of confusion he tried again. "Kingsfoil?"
"Aye, its a weed." Sam said relief in his voice. Harry could sympathize, he had been feeling useless for the whole three days as they near ran to find Rivendell. Merry and Pippin made themselves busy in the camp, Harry was almost exclusively on watch duty as Sam and Strider took care of Frodo.
Strider and Sam vanished into the bushes, Harry could hear Sam not caring to be quiet in his rush, but Strider in all his natural grace was soundless. Harry, kneeling next to Frodo, wrapped his thick blanket around him, cocooning the hobbit tightly, Frodo groaned, and Harry leaned closer whispering. "Frodo? Frodo can you hear me?"
"Itsss too hot." Frodo muttered, his hair was plastered to his forehead. "I... can s-s-ssee- them, coming for me." Looking into his eyes Harry saw the bright blue clouding over, black tendrils creeping over his eyeballs.
"Harry-" The Sword squeaked. Harry held his breath. For two reasons, first Frodo's eyes were creeping the hell out of him.
Secondly a metal tip was being held at his throat. It pressed a bit harder and Harry slowly rose his mind in overdrive. 'Wraith would've killed me, bandits would've killed me, Strider would've killed me, where's Strider? Hobbits, shit, Merry, Pippin are they alright? What the fuck sneaked up on us. Oh god Sam."
Harry held his hands out and looked up. His immediate thought was, 'Fuck, its Malfoy.'
Good news, he was wrong, bad news, a chick on a horse galloped away with Frodo. Harry, Merry, Sam and Pippin stood together watching the path where the woman, Harry didn't even get a glance at her, focused on the Sword wielding blondie. "Sooo." Harry said awkwardly. "Where did you guys come from?"
Finally yay, goodness that took forever, I hope you guys followed the fight scene it was the first I actually wrote but I had no idea how to get rid of the wraiths I mean, wouldn't just continuing the battle with Strider in the originals be more logical, if you're the undead wouldn't you not get tired and Strider for all his awesomeness is mostly just a man. So leaving in the middle of the fight seemed good enough 'cause they were lazy seemed good enough.