This is the disclaimer. I do not own anything from Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter, they are the property of JRR Tolkien and J K Rowling, this writing is purely for pleasure and I get no money out of this whatsoever, now that is out of the way on with the story!

Chapter 5

Aragorn felt relief well up in him as he felt the child go limp against his shoulder, his breathing settling into the regular breaths of sleep. Things had been too close that night. He had feared an ambush when they had paused at Weathertop, but they had had no other option and his fears had been realised when he had come across the tracks of the Nazgul's horses. He had only just made it back in time, any later and Frodo and the ring would have been lost, even now the question of whether the hobbit would survive weighed heavily on his mind.

It was sixty miles to Rivendell, Arwen should be able to cover that distance in a day, elven horses were swift and bred to be able to spend all day running but she had the Nazgul on her tail. Aragorn put that thought firmly from his mind, Arwen was more than capable of handling herself and because he had been able to treat the wound with athelas leaves Frodo should be able to hang on until they reached the city and the healing powers of the elves. He had already shown a great strength in bearing the ring for so long.

They had got off lightly that night and he knew they had been fortunate. The ring was still out of the enemy's hands and he knew Arwen and the elves would strive to ensure it remained that way, and there had been far fewer injuries than he had been expecting, indeed only Frodo and Elion had suffered any serious hurt, with the other three hobbits suffering nothing more than scrapes and bruises. Inwardly he cursed himself for not noticing the child's injuries sooner, he should have been more alert.

Firmly he stopped his thoughts in their tracks, it was no good to dwell on what he should have done, they were still in the wilderness and while he was sure that the Nazgul would have pursued Frodo and Arwen, on foot it was still six days travel to Rivendell it did not mean that there were not dangers left in the wilds and he couldn't afford to become complacent.

He turned to address the hobbits and inwardly sighed as he saw the mistrust had once again sprung into Sam's eyes, evidently sending Frodo with Arwen had not endeared him to the hobbit. "Frodo will arrive in Rivendell in the evening," he told them, ignoring their attempts to interrupt, "And he will find care and healing there that I cannot provide for a wound such as his alone and in the wilds. Lord Elrond is a mighty healer and can treat those wounds which are beyond my skill." He saw acceptance dawn in the faces of the hobbits but Sam was still a little belligerent.

"How do you know he will be safe?" He demanded

"The horses of the elves are faster than those the Nazgul ride," he explained, "And the elves are expecting him. Frodo will be safe." Sam nodded slowly, a little of the wariness leaving his eyes.

"But while Frodo will soon be beyond their reach, we are still several days travel from Rivendell," he said, "And whilst the Nazgul are distracted it does not mean our path is without danger."

That comment hit home, the hobbits had just had their first taste of battle and the first taste was always the sharpest. They were no longer the care-free hobbits he had met in Bree, blind to the danger they were walking into. They understood now and it was without complaint that they checked their packs were still securely fastened to Bill's back and started to walk once more, their conversations quiet and stilted.

Slowly as the hours passed some of the black mood surrounding the hobbits lifted. They weren't the same as they had been before, and they would never be but they were gradually overcoming the shock of the fight and seeing one of their own that badly injured. But still, although their expressions had lightened Aragorn noticed that they were sending odd and perhaps slightly fearful glances at the child sleeping in his arms.

He dropped his gaze to the child, his eyes examining him for any wound or mark or something he might have otherwise missed that was the cause of the hobbits wariness. Elion shifted slightly as Aragorn watched, the boy's fingers tangling themselves in his tunic, his small face peaceful as he slept. There was nothing in the child's bearing that would have caused such wariness therefore the only explanation was that something had happened either during the fight, or beforehand while he was scouting.

Frowning slightly he turned his head slightly to look at Merry. "What happened when the Nazgul attacked?" He asked, his voice a little sharp.

The hobbit started slightly, not expecting a question as Aragorn seldom spoke to them when they were travelling but he quickly summoned his thoughts and started to speak.

"There were five of them, Elion saw them first and he retreated up into the ruins and we followed him. There was an odd look in his eyes though, it was almost..." he paused, casting around for a word, "calculating I suppose. We stood in front of Frodo but the riders had those swords and just threw us aside," Here the hobbit shivered, despite the heat from the midday sun, "They were after Frodo, they weren't bothered with us except to get us out the way. Things got a bit blurry then, I hit my head so I didn't see everything but I heard Elion yell several things, they weren't in a language I recognised, I don't think it was elvish though..."

He trailed off but Aragorn was adept at reading men and he knew there was something that Merry hadn't told him yet. "And?" He prompted, his voice telling the hobbit that he knew there was something he was holding back.

Merry raised his eyes to look at him, his expression serious, "I don't know what he did but Elion yelled something in the strange language and a ball of flames burst from his hand and struck one of the riders setting him on fire." Aragorn's stride faltered for a second, he didn't know what he had been expecting but it hadn't been that. "He did it again," Merry continued to recount "And then you arrived and, well, you know." There was a pause, then the hobbit asked quietly, "What was it Strider?"

Aragorn didn't answer for a while, but eventually he spoke. "I believe it might be a kind of magic but Gandalf knows more than I when it comes to magic. But," his voice dropped, a slight protectiveness coating his tone, "Elion is a child, regardless of what he may be able to do. He used his ability to try and protect Frodo, you need not fear him."

Something eased in the hobbit's eyes and when Aragorn glanced back he saw that both Sam and Pippin had also relaxed. Inwardly he shook his head, although it was only natural for the hobbits to be frightened of something unknown there was no reason to be frightened of a child. The boy looked so small and so helpless and when he was awake he was timid and skittish, he might have powers or magic of some form but it was clear that he only used them in desperate situations. Elion was a child in need of comfort and protection and it was obvious to Aragorn that he had been hurt too many times in his life.

Elion blinked slowly, his eyes adjusting to the light as he pushed back the sleepiness. For a moment he wondered where he was, confused to find himself being held against something warm and not in blanket. He raised his hand to rub at his eyes and he heard a low chuckle above him. Shyly he glanced up to come face to face with the kind face of the ranger.

"Hello little one," Aragorn said softly, smiling down at the child.

"Hello," Elion whispered, a blush rising on his cheeks as he realised he had been sleeping in the ranger's arms and he was clinging onto Aragorn's tunic. He knew he should let go but he felt safer doing so and Aragorn didn't seem to mind. At that moment full memory of the night came flooding back and he suddenly stiffened, Frodo had been hurt and he didn't know what had happened to him.

"Frodo?" He asked, his voice trembling.

The concern in Aragorn's face that had risen as he had become upset smoothed out, "Frodo will be fine Elion," he told him gently, "He has gone with Arwen to Rivendell where he will be healed."

Elion let out a sigh of relief before peeking over Aragorn's shoulder to see if the other hobbits were alright. Relief hit him again when he saw that they were unharmed, at least his inability to react fast enough had only resulted in Frodo being wounded but he flinched when he saw the look in Sam's eyes, something lurked there, a wariness and a distrust.

Elion's hurt plummeted. They blamed him for Frodo's injury and while he knew they had every right to, if he'd just been a bit quicker Frodo would have been fine, but he couldn't deny that it hurt. "I'm sorry," he cried out softly, tears welling in his eyes, "I didn't mean for Frodo to get hurt, I tried to protect him but there were too many, please don't hurt me, I'm sorry."

There was a moment of shocked silence and the tears streaked down Elion's face. He had known it was too good to last, he was a burden and a freak and he didn't deserve to be cared for and looked after but he didn't want them to leave him.

A hand came up and Elion flinched, his muscles preparing themselves for a blow but instead of the blow he was expecting he felt Aragorn rub his back soothingly, "Hush little one," he murmured, his voice tender, "I won't hurt you and you have nothing to apologise for."

Elion blinked, his mind unable to understand what he was being told. He was always the one at fault, he was the freak, the burden, the person that the fate of the world rested on and he was the cause of his friend's deaths. To his mind he had more than enough to apologise for so he shook his head. "I wasn't fast enough. Frodo got hurt and it's my fault." His voice dropped to a mere whisper at the end of the sentence, "I deserve to be hurt."

He heard the ranger gasp then he felt Aragorn pull him tighter against him, cradling him against his chest and holding him protectively. "No Elion," he said fiercely although the boy could detect the catch in his voice, "It was not your fault. You helped, and ensured that there were fewer Nazgul, if anything Frodo was less badly hurt than he would have been. You have nothing to apologise for."

The words soothed the guilt that was biting him, he only wished that he could believe them. He wanted to believe them but the knowledge that he was the one at fault had been deeply burned into his psyche, not only by his childhood but also the years at Hogwarts and the disaster that had been the second war against Voldemort.

Aragorn was speaking again, his voice soft but at the same time also stern, "And you do not deserve to be hurt. Whoever taught you that was wrong little one and they should never have hurt you. Do you understand that Elion?"

He just nodded but Elion could tell that Aragorn did not believe him but the ranger didn't press the matter and Elion was gradually relaxing once more when another question occurred to him, "Do the hobbits hate me now?" He asked quietly.

"No little one," Aragorn answered gently, "They are merely unused to seeing magic and you caught them by surprise at Weathertop. It frightened them a little but they don't hate you, just give them some time to get used to it."

Elion peeked over at the hobbits once more and this time he saw Pippin grin at him and his heart lightened. They had just been caught by surprise, perhaps wizards weren't that common here, and he smiled as he realised that that first people he had known in this new world were not going to abandon or hurt him. Aragorn had said that he wouldn't and for reasons that he couldn't quite explain, even to himself, Elion found himself beginning to trust the older man.

The next two days passed in a similar fashion to the first days he had spent with the group. After the first, awkward afternoon after Elion had first woken after Weathertop the hobbits relaxed around him once more and the following two days were filled with attempts to teach him the Common Language. Admittedly the progress was far slower without Frodo to act as a translator but Elion was gradually beginning to understand the basics of the language although he still had great difficulty following a conversation and speaking it but he was beginning to understand it when the hobbits directed simple sentences at him.

But although the days were passing quickly, the nights had rapidly become worse. The experience at Weathertop had woken something in Elion and every night since the ambush he had woken screaming and thrashing from a nightmare. His experiences fighting Voldemort which he had pushed as far away from his mind as possible had now come back and they haunted his dreams. Images of pain, of death, of fire, of torture and silent green death, and above all else guilt and loss.

But every night he had been pulled from his nightmares by Aragorn's voice and every night the man had held him until the shaking had stopped before tucking him back into his blankets and singing softly until Elion drifted back into dreams. The ranger hadn't pried and asked about the origin of the nightmares he had just been there, comforting and safe, although Elion had seen the concern in his eyes and knew that Aragorn wanted to question him but was refraining from doing so, and for that he was thankful. He didn't have any answers that wouldn't be impossible to believe and he didn't want to remember, he just wanted to forget because when he forgot it didn't hurt him anymore.

He couldn't understand why Aragorn was being so nice though. He knew if he had ever woken his Aunt or Uncle up with his nightmares he would have been hurt not comforted, and he couldn't understand why Aragorn wasn't grilling him for answers either. Everyone always asked him for answers and pressed him and pressed him even if he had nothing to say. But Aragorn was different and Elion didn't understand it, it couldn't be because he was a child, he had been a child to his Aunt and Uncle and they had never been kind or ever cared but Aragorn did and it didn't make sense.

Aragorn suddenly froze, breaking Elion out of his thoughts and he shrank in the ranger's arms, automatically trying to make himself smaller and less of a threat and a target to whatever had cause Aragorn to still. Behind them the hobbits froze as well, their eyes darting around warily as they too tried to locate the danger that he caused such a reaction in the ranger.

A second later Elion heard the noise that had put the ranger on guard, the steady beats of a horse's hooves against stone. He heard a terrified whisper of "Black Riders!" and he felt fear grip him as he realised that the creature down there was one of the same ones that had attacked them. He turned his head to bury it in Aragorn's shoulder, seeking the comfort and reassurance of the ranger's presence.

He heard the hoof-beats slow and finally stop and he shivered, knowing the black figure was about to attack them but he pulled his face out from where it was hidden against Aragorn's shoulder and shifted so his right hand was free, ready to cast if he needed to. He wasn't going to let anyone get hurt this time, even if Aragorn insisted what happened to Frodo hadn't been his fault, Elion knew it was and he was not going to fail again.

But he felt the tense arms carrying him relax and he glanced up, started to see that Aragorn's expression was one of relief and joy. The reason for the ranger's relief came a second later as a clear voice rang out through the air and a tall figure with shining armour and a fair face crested the ridge in front of them, "Well met Dúnadan!"

The language he was speaking and the relief in Aragorn's expression was enough to convince Elion that this man - or perhaps elf as he saw the man's pointed ears and realised that no human had a voice that fair - was not an enemy, but faced with a stranger he felt wariness spring up inside him and he turned and hid his face in Aragorn's shoulder.

"Well met indeed Glorfindel," Aragorn replied, "What are the tidings from Rivendell?"

"The ring bearer was borne there safely and Lord Elrond is treating him, he will recover and the ring has remained free of our enemy. I was sent to bring you and your companions to Rivendell with all haste, for whilst the Nazgul were overwhelmed at the ford they are still abroad and none can hope to withstand all nine alone."

Elion let a sigh of relief escape as he absorbed the news that Frodo would recover and was safe but the soft noise attracted the attention of the Elf-Lord, who's eyes now drifted down to the child Aragorn held securely in his arms. "Gandalf only spoke of the Halflings," he said, his voice conveying the question concealed within the statement.

"I found this little one alone in the wilderness, badly hurt and scared." Aragorn answered quietly. The Elf-Lord's eyes widened slightly and Elion saw anger rise in his eyes. Automatically he flinched away, anger in adults meant only one thing but the instant he moved the anger in the elf's eyes faded and he said something softly in the common tongue. Elion just looked at him helplessly, his hands clutching at Aragorn's tunic; while he recognised the language he didn't know very much yet and the words were doing little to reassure him.

The Glorfindel's brow furrowed, "Is he deaf?" He asked Aragorn, concern tinting his voice.

"No," the ranger replied, "Elion only speaks Sindarin." Elion clearly saw the shock in Glorfindel's eyes but the elf recovered a second later,

"It is approaching midday and it is over half a day's ride to Rivendell, it would be unwise to be still travelling as dark falls. I have horses for you and the Halflings and we must make haste, though if we could talk as we ride?" There was curiosity lurking in Glorfindel's voice and Elion did not miss the glance that the elf shot in his direction but Aragorn nodded and turned quickly to the hobbits, explaining the new turn of events.

Within a few scant minutes they were all seated on elven horses and cantering at a steady, ground eating lope, towards the ford and Rivendell. The hobbits had looked askance when the first horses had come into view but their shocked expressions had quickly morphed into expressions of relief when three smaller horses, almost ponies trotted up behind the two larger horses.

It was on one of the larger horses the Elion now rode, sitting on the front of the saddle with Aragorn holding him up tightly with one arm whilst the ranger guided the horse with a single hand and his knees. It was odd riding a horse, it was something he had never done before and riding a horse was really quite different from riding a hippogriff or a thestral and Elion was only now realising just how big horses were. It was a long way to the ground and he was very grateful that the ranger was holding him up and that he was so adept at riding that he was steering the horse so well with just one hand and his knees that Elion was hardly jolted.

He was gazing around at the landscape curiously, they were now cantering on what appeared to be an old road and he was fascinated by the new world he found himself in but he was brought out of his thoughts a second later when Glorfindel spoke. "Where did you find him, for a child to be so far from any village is unusual to say the least?"

Elion was perfectly content to let Aragorn answer the questions, he had known that an interrogation would occur soon enough but he wanted to prolong it for as long as possible and while Aragorn could answer the questions it was easy to let him. He didn't know what he going to say. He didn't want to lie because he knew he was a bad liar but at the same time he knew the truth would not be believed, and a large part of him wanted to forget it, to forget the war and fighting and being the 'Boy-Who-Lived'.

But he knew he wouldn't be able to avoid their questions forever and he didn't want to lie. Inwardly he came to a decision, he would never mention Voldemort or the Death Eaters or Dementors by name, bad people or nasty creatures would suffice and he would stick to the basic truth about his childhood. His parents had died when he was a baby, he had been raised by his Aunt and Uncle who hadn't liked him because of his magic and they'd all been killed, everyone he knew, by the bad men and he'd been hurt but kept alive and then something had killed them out in the wilderness and he had been left alone. It was truthful, it had only omitted a few facts and he knew that they would assume certain things about who Voldemort had been and what had killed them without him having to talk about crossing worlds or being grown up or anything like that.

Glorfindel's next question though shocked him out of his thoughts, "Little one," the elf asked gently, "Why were you in the wilds?"

Elion bit his lip, although he had decided what he was going to say he didn't want to have to say it and it may have been because he was a child again but he felt the overwhelming urge to hide his face in Aragorn's cloak so he didn't have to answer the question. What right did Glorfindel have to question him anyway, the elf didn't actually care, nobody did. But there was something about the elf that intimidated Elion, a sense of a vast power emanating out from the being, and a sense that he had seen more of life than Elion could dream about and it scared him. However he didn't know what the elf would do if he refused to answer so he pulled up his courage.

"They brought me there," he whispered eventually, his fingers clutching at Aragorn's sleeve and refusing to look at the elf.

"Where were you before they brought you there?"

"Home," Elion murmured, for Hogwarts had been his home, more than anywhere else had been really but it was gone now. Could your home be somewhere that no longer existed, or at least didn't exist in the world he was now in?

"Where's your home little one?"

"Gone, dead, destroyed. All dead. Everyone died." His voice held no inflection as he spoke.

It felt different saying it out loud. He knew it was gone, that everyone he knew was dead and that there was no going back but saying the words now it really hit him. They were gone. There was no Hogwarts, no Ron, no Hermione, no Neville, no Ginny, no Hedwig, no Hagrid, no McGonagall, no Snape, no Malfoy, no Remus, no Mr and Mrs Weasley, no Sirius, no Fred and George, no Ghosts, no Buckbeak, no Flitwick, no Dumbledore, no Hogsmede, no Gryffindor Tower, no Great Hall, no DA, no friends, no enemies, no anything. He was alone and they were gone.

Tears broke through him then and he turned away, twisting his body so he could hide his face in Aragorn's chest as the sobs came.

AN Hi all, hope you all enjoyed the update. Thank you for the support you have given me and please review.