Summary: Journeying on in the aftermath of the attack on Weathertop is difficult - and it doesn't get easier when they discover why Draco's not succumbed to the Morgul-blade yet. Fortunately, help is at hand after an unexpected but not unwelcome chance meeting with allies, one of whom is of far greater significance to Draco at least than anyone had realised. But with the Nine lying in wait at the Fords of Bruinen, will it be enough?
Notes: A nice long chapter for you to make up for the long wait between updates! Mostly set in Arda, but there's a little bit of the Potterverse at the end. Warning - it's a bit dark, but you were expecting that given how the last one ended, weren't you?
Chapter 6
At first light, the travellers set off. Draco had been wrapped in blankets over his cloak and bundled on top of Neville the pony, as he was clearly in no fit state to walk.
"When he fantasised about riding Neville, I bet that's not what he had in mind," Ginny quipped in a voice so low only Harry could hear her. Harry's cheeks turned pink as he realised what she meant by that.
"What the – Ginny!" he gasped. "That's...!" Ginny raised an eyebrow.
"What? I've got six older brothers. They're allowed to make filthy jokes and cast aspersions on their rivals' sexuality and I'm not?" The innocent look on her face did not match her tone of voice.
"I – I'm fairly certain Malfoy's not gay!" said Harry, taking refuge in something else he was reasonably sure of in order to distract himself from the realisation that his best mate's younger sister could know quite so much about that sort of thing. Although now that he thought about it, Malfoy was awfully appearance obsessed and not a little prone to the dramatic... No. No, he was not going there. As Hermione would no doubt say, those were unfair stereotypes of gay men and completely unrepresentative of the gay community as a whole. Yes, that would be it, Hermione would surely agree with that and when was Hermione wrong on that sort of thing?
"You're right," said Ginny, and the certainty in her voice was somehow not as big a relief for Harry as he'd hoped it would be. "I don't think he is either. However, he's Slytherin. They're all a bit deviant in one way or another." Flashing Harry a grin over her shoulder, she gathered her robes and quickened her pace. "Come on, let's catch up with Aragorn and Hermione, find out where we're going next."
Aragorn and Hermione were leading the party, just ahead of where Luna was leading the pony with a half-conscious Draco slumped over it. Earlier that morning, they'd crossed the Road in a hurry while the Sun was barely over the horizon and cut into the thickets beyond. Now they were tracking through a featureless gorseland, consisting of nearly impassable clumps of trees and bushes, and open wasteland which would leave them horribly vulnerable to attack from any of the Nine, were they to find them. However, the ground was stony underfoot, and Aragorn at least was taking comfort from the fact that it would be hard going indeed for anyone on horseback.
"Bringing a pony this way is one thing; bringing a horse such as that which the Nine ride is another matter indeed," he told Hermione. "Be not afraid, they shall not follow us this way."
"But they'll follow the Road, won't they," said Hermione. "All they'd have to do would be to patrol it and ambush us when we take to it again, and we'll have to do that at some point, won't they?
"We will," Aragorn confirmed with a frown.
"Will what?" Ginny asked, catching up with a grin on her face and a flushed Harry not far behind.
"Have to rejoin the Road," said Hermione. Ginny's face fell.
"But... Riders!" she cried. "They'll be all over the Road!"
"I am afraid so," Aragorn nodded. "But take heart, they do not know exactly where we are or when we are likely to return to it, not exactly. At present, we travel east while the Road winds to the north-east. That should save us some time, as the Road won't rejoin our path until we reach the Hoarwell River, called Mitheithel by the Elves. There, however, we may run into difficulties."
"And by difficulties, he means Nazgul," Draco called from his perch on top of the pony. While his physical strength seemed to have deserted him, he was still in possession of sarcasm aplenty.
"Quite, son of Lucius," said Aragorn, either missing the sarcasm entirely, or more likely, choosing to ignore it. "The only path over that river is by the Last Bridge – it is not fordable, and the only way around it would be to journey many miles north to its sources in the Ettenmoors. That is troll country, and I do not know its paths – we would be many miles out of our way and lose much time." He cast a glance at Draco here, and the same thought occurred to all of them – it would be time Draco just didn't have.
Things did not get any cheerier from there – the countryside offered little in the way of comfort, and there seemed little point in discussing anything more. Even Ginny fell quiet and pre-occupied, and Draco, while still capable of snapping out a retort when provoked, was clearly not getting any better despite repeated infusions of healing potions from Hermione. His left shoulder was either agonisingly painful or completely numb, and he was refusing to let anyone touch his arm at all.
"No, it hurts!" he hissed, wrenching himself away from Luna when she and Hermione tried to examine it. They were six days out of Weathertop, and were making camp for the night.
"Yes, and it will keep hurting if you don't let us treat it," said Hermione impatiently. "Now stop being such a wimp and let Luna look at it!"
"No!" Draco snarled, grabbing his left arm with his right and turning away from her. "Leave me alone!"
Hermione, having had to put up with nearly a week of this, finally gave in. "Alright, alright, I will leave it. But if you get any worse or we find any strong painkilling herbs, I am going to take a look at it if I have to get Harry and Aragorn to sit on you while I do it!"
It was a measure of how bad Draco's condition was that he made not even the feeblest of ripostes other than to glare at her as she went to check on the cauldron. Behind her, Luna settled next to her, troubled.
"Something is wrong," she stated, fairly unnecessarily in Hermione's opinion.
"Everything is wrong," Hermione scowled, poking that night's stew consisting of a few herbs, half an onion and the remains of an injured wood pigeon they'd found that morning and Aragorn had pronounced beyond healing before breaking its neck. "We are out of time with no way of getting home, Draco is fading by the day, we have the Nine trying to find us, and I need a wash and a decent night's sleep in a proper bed, dammit!" She pushed herself back, furious and fighting back tears.
"Well, yes," said Luna. "But it's not just all that, it's Draco's arm. It shouldn't be like that, not that painful to touch. He's not faking it either, I can feel the heat rising from his upper arm."
"Heat?" Hermione frowned. "But his shoulder is cold, and the rest of him clammy, why is his arm burning up?" Luna shook her head.
"I don't know. Aragorn said the blade would make its way to his heart and turn him into a wraith, but that isn't what's happening. I think... I think it's made its way into his arm somehow. I think his own magic's fighting it, keeping it from killing him."
That did get Hermione's interest. She shot a glance at Draco over her shoulder. His left arm was still useless, but his shoulder was moving a little better than it had been, and the wound had already closed.
"Could be," she murmured. "Could be." It wasn't a bad explanation... but she hadn't realised Draco's magic was capable of standing up to that of the Nazgul. She still wasn't sure it was. She watched Draco with a frown. This was a situation that required careful monitoring and observation before she could draw any definite conclusions. Fortunately, it wasn't like she really had anything better to do for the foreseeable future.
On the morning of the seventh day out of Weathertop, they finally rejoined the Road. Aragorn made them wait in the undergrowth while he scouted the area. After about ten minutes, he turned to them, beckoning them forward.
"Have no fear, none have ridden this way of late. See, there are no hoofprints, not since the last rain."
The last rain, as they all remembered, had been two nights ago, and a more miserable night none of them had had in a while.
"So it's safe then?" Harry asked. Aragorn laughed.
"As to that, I can make no guarantees there. Yet I think there is no immediate danger to us here. Come, let us make haste, the Last Bridge is not far and I would like to be clear of it as soon as can be."
They did as asked, and hurried east as fast as they could. Before long, they'd reached the Last Bridge, a three-arched stone bridge wide enough for two Land Rovers to pass each other and with room to spare. It was clearly well-made and rather out of place for such an uninhabited landscape.
"Who built this, Aragorn?" Hermione whispered. "Was it the Elves?"
Aragorn shook his head. "No. It was built by Men in the time of the North Kingdom, when this was a civilised land and this Road a major highway. Alas, for war brought that kingdom to an end many years ago, and none living now remember this land as anything but the wilderness you see before you. None but the Elves... and Arnor was never their kingdom." He sighed, sadness in his eyes, before telling them to hide in a nearby thicket while he scouted the Bridge himself. Before long, he was back, something shining in his hand.
"What have you found?" Ginny asked. "Does it... does it belong to the Nine?" They could all see Aragorn staring at it, dread and what might even have been anger in his eyes.
"No," he said fiercely. "This, children, would be Elven-ware." He held it out, and they could all see it to be a necklace, delicately crafted from silver in a shape vaguely similar to a caduceus and with a six-pointed star of diamonds set into the middle of it, which seemed to shine with a light of its own. It was very beautiful, and clearly very expensive, and how it had ended up in the middle of the Last Bridge was anyone's guess.
"Do Elves travel a lot?" Hermione guessed. "Because one of them might have dropped it and not realised as they were passing."
"Many Elven travelling parties pass this way on the way to the West," said Aragorn, his voice husky. "But this necklace is one of a kind, and its wearer dwells in Rivendell, or should by all rights!" Cursing, he thrust the necklace into his pocket, before noticing the concerned looks the children were giving him.
"Aye, do not be alarmed, it is possible no harm has come to her and there is a perfectly reasonable explanation." Aragorn forced a smile. "Come, let us hurry, it is clear Elves have been here at any rate, which I shall take as a sign the Bridge at least is safe. We shall have to leave the Road after that, however." He ran a hand over the pocket he'd stored the necklace in, his face full of foreboding. "How I wish we were nearer Rivendell! How I wish I knew what this meant. But I do not, and so all I can do is continue with the mission the Valar have given me." Without another word, he turned and made for the Bridge. Exchanging concerned looks, the others followed.
Aragorn left the Road as soon as he could manage and turned north, into the hills. The territory here became increasingly rocky and steep, with ruins from the old days of Arnor barely distinguishable from the rocks and crags, and all overgrown with pine trees in any case. The weather was also turning increasingly cold, and Draco was shivering constantly. When they finally made camp, he sank to his knees by the fire and stayed there under cloak and blankets, not saying a word. While Hermione and Luna tended to him, and Ginny tended to dinner, Harry stopped to have a quiet word with Aragorn.
"So who is she?" he said softly. "The owner of the necklace, I mean." He noticed the deep unhappiness in Aragorn's eyes at his mention of the mysterious Elven woman, and regretted asking. "Er, that's if you're OK to talk to me about it. You don't have to if you don't want."
Aragorn sighed. "That tale is long indeed, Harry, and its ending is as yet unclear to me, nor is it by any means likely to be a happy one. I can tell you that the necklace represents the Evenstar, and as such it is worn by the Evenstar of her people, Lady Arwen Undomiel of Rivendell."
Harry gasped. "The Queen of Rivendell was riding out here? Are we that close by? And where is she now?"
Aragorn shook his head grimly. "To take your questions in order: she is not Rivendell's queen, as Rivendell is not a kingdom. And even if it were, that title would properly belong to her mother, Lady Celebrian, who journeyed West many years ago."
"What, does that mean she died?" Harry asked, wide-eyed.
"No, Harry, she is of the Eldar," Aragorn snapped. "They are immortal, only fatal injuries and a broken heart can kill them. She journeyed West to the Grey Havens and took ship to Valinor to join the Valar. And it is a topic none in Rivendell wish to be reminded of or speak about, so you would be wise not to mention it again. Particularly not in front of her husband, Lord Elrond, Rivendell's ruler, who remained here; partly because he could not forsake his people and partly because their three children could not lose their father as well. The youngest of them is Lady Arwen, whose necklace was left on the Bridge. And to return to your questions, no she should not have been riding out here as we are over a hundred miles from Rivendell. She is known for her high spirits but even she would not be out riding this far from home with the Nine abroad. I hope she is safe at her father's house, or else with her kin in far Lothlorien. If she is not, I do not know where she might be, and for her necklace to end up here troubles me." He fell silent, and Harry wished he hadn't asked. Harry didn't claim to be an expert on romance, far from it, but even he could tell that Aragorn's concern went far beyond that of someone concerned about an ally's family. Aragorn's care for Arwen seemed personal.
"You think she was captured by the Nine and they left the necklace to lure us out, don't you?" said Harry gently. Aragorn nodded.
"It has crossed my mind, yes. Even thought I cannot imagine how – they cannot enter Rivendell, and not even she would be so foolish as to leave without guards. Also, she is an Elven princess – Elven women do not go to war as a rule, but that does not mean they cannot fight. Even alone, the Nine would not find her easy prey. And yet I cannot help but fear for her."
If Harry had doubted before, the stricken look on Aragorn's face confirmed it – this was one man with a serious crush on the Elven princess.
"What are you going to do?" Harry asked. He sincerely hoped that the Nine did not have Arwen as a hostage, because he wasn't entirely certain that they'd win if Aragorn had to choose between getting them to Rivendell and rescuing his lady love. Or that Elrond would be in any way inclined to assist them if it were to be revealed that their arrival had been bought at the cost of his daughter's life.
His concerns must have been obvious from his face, because Aragorn looked at him, laughed and clapped him on the arm.
"Fear not, young Harry, I am not about to abandon you to the Nine and mount a search for her. If she is truly missing, I am sure Elrond will already have done so. Besides," and here he closed his eyes and breathed deeply before continuing, "my heart tells me she is well and that her immediate fate is none of my concern. You, however, are. Come, let us eat and talk of things more pleasant to the ear." With that, he guided Harry back to the campfire.
Three days passed, and the countryside grew no more inviting, just as the weather grew steadily worse. In addition, they appeared to be heading more north than east and on the third day, Aragorn confessed them to be heading off course. He disappeared to scout for a path back to the Road, but it was three hours before he returned with news of a way forward. Of course, it involved beating through bushes and clambering over rocks, and eventually it became obvious that Neville the pony was never going to manage with a load on his back. Meaning Draco would have to walk. Everyone as one turned to look at him, wondering exactly how far he was likely to get before keeling over. Draco took this as well as could be expected.
"I'm fine, I tell you," he snapped. "I'm better than I look." Given that he'd barely eaten in a week and was losing weight rapidly, and looked paler than most corpses, this didn't really reassure anyone. "I can move my arm again and everything." This was true, feeling and movement had returned to his upper arm, but his lower arm was still alternately cold and burning up and now painfully swollen to boot, and his hand was still useless. No one looked convinced.
"Well, son of Lucius, see how you manage," said Aragorn uncertainly. "If you are having difficulties, let us know, we may be able to improvise."
"If it comes to that I can levitate him," said Hermione. "I know you said the Nine can track our magic, but honestly, if we are having trouble with a hill-pony, they aren't going to be able to get war-horses up here."
"I do not need levitating!" Draco cried, shrill voice echoing off the cliffs. "I will be fine, now can we keep moving while it is still light?"
To that, no one could argue, so they set off. It took the best part of the day to manage the climb and the Sun was setting by the time they'd reached the top of the ridge. Surprisingly, Draco didn't complain once. In retrospect, this should have been their first warning of trouble. As they all paused to get their breath back and start making camp, Draco's legs gave way and he fell unconscious.
"Draco!" Luna screamed, rushing to his side. Hermione reached for her Potions pouch, shouting at Ginny and Harry to get a fire going, as Aragorn rushed to Draco's other side, helping Luna to roll him on to his back.
"Too much," said Aragorn, his voice bleak. "This was too much for him. I am a fool for not realising sooner, and yet he would have refused all offers of help, I am sure; damn him, he is more stubborn than a Gondorian princeling!"
"Luna, feel his arm," said Hermione, her voice brisk as ever. "How's that shoulder doing?"
Luna felt under Draco's robes. "Cold. Really cold, and really pale. He's breathing, but very shallow. Hermione, will he be alright?"
"I don't know," said Hermione, taking Draco's pulse. "Ginny, can you boil some kingsweed? I can't give him anything to drink if he's unconscious, but the fumes from that helped before."
Ginny reached into the pouch and pulled out a handful of leaves. "Er, Hermione? This is it, this is all we have left."
"Boil it," said Aragorn firmly. "I know more or less where we are now, it is easy going from here. We can reach the Road by tomorrow afternoon and hopefully the Fords of Bruinen by the day after that. Once over those, we're in Rivendell and we can summon aid."
Ginny threw the leaves into the cauldron, and the air lightened immediately. Draco's breathing slowed and became deeper, but he did not wake.
"I don't like his pulse rate at all," said Hermione, still frowning. "Luna, what was it you said, you thought his magic had diverted the shard into his arm and away from his heart?"
Aragorn looked up at this. "His magic is strong indeed if you believe it can do that. Come now, you have seen the Nine, do you believe Draco as strong as all that compared to their magics?"
"He must be, he's still alive," said Hermione, but she sounded dubious. Harry, however, was staring at Draco's crippled arm. His left arm. The arm he let no one look at.
"Hermione," said Harry slowly, "I think we need to get a look at his arm, a proper look at it." Hermione nodded and took out her wand.
"Diffindo!" Draco's sleeve split open, revealing his bare arm. The shoulder and upper arm were cold and pale, but his forearm was vivid red and swollen. That, however, was not what Harry was most interested in. Mouth dry, he turned the limb over to look at the underside.
Sure enough, as Harry had suspected, etched on Draco's arm was a Dark Mark... or at least, there had been. Ignoring shocked gasps from the three witches and Aragorn's insistent demand to know what was happening, he traced it with his wand... what was left of it. The skull had gone entirely, and the snake had had half its tail bitten away and was turning, appearing to hiss viciously at where the rest of the Mark had been.
"It wasn't just Draco's magic fighting the knife blade," said Harry softly. "It was Voldemort's, via the Dark Mark. Voldemort didn't want other wizards trying to claim his servants so he must have built some protection into the Mark. That's how Draco's lasted this long – this would have killed him days earlier otherwise." Of course, the thought that immediately followed was that if any of the others had fallen victim to the Nazgul blade, they'd have succumbed by now and the Ring would be Sauron's. Harry clenched at the Ring around his neck to make sure it was safe still, uncomfortable memories of how he'd nearly lost it crossing his mind. The Nazgul were going for me, they only got Draco because he was in the way. That could have been me lying there. He shivered at the thought.
"But where's the rest of it?" Ginny asked. "What happened to the skull?"
It was Luna who answered that. "Sauron and Voldemort are fighting for control of him," she said sadly. "And Voldemort is losing." Before their very eyes, another chunk disappeared from the snake's tail.
"Do you mean to tell me," Aragorn's voice sounded cold and dangerous in the firelight, "that we have been harbouring a servant of your Dark Lord in this camp all the while, and no one thought to tell me?"
There was silence. All of them looked at each other, not quite sure how to answer this. It was Ginny who spoke up.
"Please, Aragorn, we didn't know. I mean, alright, we knew his father was and that Draco sympathised, but we didn't know he was actually carrying the Mark!" Ginny faltered after saying this, aware that it sounded rather hollow when said out loud.
"That, Lady Ginevra, would hardly be the point – I was under the impression he was a comrade in arms, even if not a beloved one," Aragorn snapped. "Much is now clear to me as to why when I first saw you, you treated him like some kind of disease, and why you in particular, Ginevra, were so eager to either end his life or leave him for the Nazgul at Weathertop."
"Ginny!" Luna cried, horrified. Ginny had the grace to look ashamed.
"So what are you suggesting we do with him now we all know his deep dark secret?" she asked, desperate to get the heat off herself for a bit. "Press on without him and let Evil claim Evil?"
Aragorn was glaring at Draco like the thought was not far from his mind. Hermione noticed too, and got to her feet.
"No," she said, her voice firm and clear. "No, he stays with us. He's one of us, and with us he stays. I haven't spent the last fortnight keeping him alive to just abandon him now. Besides, Voldemort doesn't even exist yet. Our war, it's in the future, it's yet to come. Just because he sided with Voldemort in our time doesn't mean he'll side with Sauron in this one. You can see from his Mark they're not exactly allied." She folded her arms, daring Aragorn to argue with her.
Next to her, Luna smiled and squeezed her arm. "Thank you, Hermione. You would have made a good Ravenclaw... but that just proved why you're a Gryffindor."
Hermione started at that, then a smile broke out in answer to Luna's own. "You've got a few Gryffindor values yourself."
Aragorn shook his head, unsure what that conversation entirely meant, but gathering the general gist of it. He turned to Harry.
"Well, Ringbearer, it seems the choice is down to you. What are we to do with him?"
Harry stared down at his one-time nemesis, rival, enemy, you name it, Draco had been it. And now Draco was lying at his feet, quite possibly dying, with rival Dark Lords fighting for his soul. Harry didn't envy him in the slightest, and mixed in with the envy was a fair degree of pity.
Nemesis... good god, Malfoy, compared to the Dark Lords, you're nothing. You're just a kid out of your depth and trying to prove yourself, aren't you? And don't I know that feeling.
"We can't just leave him," he heard himself say. "He's not the nicest person alive and I'm fairly sure he wouldn't do this for any of us, but isn't that why we're the good guys? Because we don't sink to their level?"
"He's right," and this time it was Ginny's voice echoing out. "We should at least get him to Rivendell and give him a choice who he's going to side with. If he decides he wants to side with Sauron, then we can kick him out or do whatever with him. If he still wants to fight a war that hasn't even started yet, again, we'll deal. But right now, he's not serving anyone."
"Well then." Aragorn nodded. "If you are all agreed, we will proceed as we were before and endeavour to keep him alive until we get to Rivendell, at which point we release him into Elrond's care and judgement. He's committed no crime here except to fall under the Ring's spell briefly and he's being punished for that as it is. And your war is no concern of ours. He stays then, for as long as his allegiances do not conflict with ours. However," and here he stared at them all in turn, "do not hide information like that from me again. If I am to protect you, I need to know all the relevant details in order to do so. Is that understood?"
There were murmured acknowledgements all round. Aragorn softened, accepting the apologies.
"Very good. Then let us make camp, begin dinner and make the young Malfoy comfortable. We have a long night ahead, and a long day tomorrow."
Dawn saw them breaking camp and leaving early. A cursory check of Draco's arm revealed that more of the Mark had disappeared in the night, leaving only the head of the serpent remaining.
"At this rate, it'll be gone by tonight," said Hermione softly. "Then what?"
"Then he'll be free of Voldemort," said Luna, covering Draco's arm. Draco barely stirred as she did so. He was only just conscious of anything else around him and his eyes looked like glass.
"That will hardly help if Sauron turns him into a wraith," said Hermione, wondering about Luna's priorities. Luna just smiled back, looking properly happy for the first time in weeks; since Weathertop in fact.
"We'll be in Rivendell soon," said Luna cheerfully. She noticed Hermione's scepticism. "Don't worry, Hermione. I see it now. This is what's meant to happen, it's the only way to get rid of his Mark. We'll get to Rivendell now and Elrond will save him." Taking the pony by the reins, she led him forward, falling in behind Harry and Ginny who were having a conversation that from the sound of it was about who would win a fight between a Nazgul and a Dementor.
As Aragorn had predicted, the way became easier from that point – it was all downhill, the sun was shining, and rocky crags gave way to a clear path through forest. Sure enough, they were at the Road again by mid-afternoon. Aragorn checked both directions and led them on.
"We are still some distance from the Fords," he told them. "Come, we need to press on and cover as much ground as we can tonight. I do not like the way Draco looks."
This was true enough – Draco was presently clinging to Neville's mane, shivering all over and whimpering about how grey it was. Given that they were bathed in autumnal sunshine, that was not a good sign. However, there was little they could do for him except press on.
Time passed, and the sun began to sink below the horizon, bringing with it the question of where they stopped for the night, and perhaps more importantly, when. None of them wished to travel by night, and yet every mile covered now was one step nearer to Rivendell and safety, and one less travelled tomorrow. And so they kept walking, even as Aragorn's eyes were constantly on the look out for somewhere to make camp. Then came a sound no one wanted to hear – horses' hooves on the Road behind them.
"Quick," said Aragorn urgently. "Into the undergrowth to the north and up the hill. If we are above them, it is less likely they will see us." He ushered them into the bushes and had them all scrambling up the slope. Neville the pony he concealed behind a tree, while everyone else crouched out of sight, all of them listening intently. The hooves drew nearer and as they did so, something else also became audible – the sound of tinkling bells, and with it a noticeable lifting of the darkness. Draco's eyes flickered open, and there was hope there.
"Elbereth," he whispered. "Elbereth Gilthoniel, o Eldar, I am here!"
Sure enough, around the corner came not one but two white horses, with riders dressed in green and seeming to almost glow in the twilight. One was wearing a tunic, boots and leggings, with a cloak over the top and a sword at his side, with golden blonde hair reaching to his shoulders. The other was wearing flowing robes not dissimilar to wizarding world dress robes and a cloak, with long dark hair flowing to her waist. She also had a sword at her belt, and a circlet of silver rested on her head.
"Arwen," Aragorn breathed, a weight seeming to fall from his shoulders and his heart lightening. Even as he spoke, the woman reined in her horse and turned in their direction. Seeing this, her male companion did likewise. Harry had the uncomfortable feeling that the two of them could see their hiding place without even trying, and tightened his grip on the Ring.
Aragorn broke cover and virtually ran down the hillside. As he staggered on to the Road, the woman dismounted and went to join him, holding her arms out with a smile. Aragorn went to her without hesitation, and the two of them embraced. Harry squirmed with embarrassment as he realised the two of them were kissing.
"We made it," he heard Luna whisper, relief evident in her voice. She got to her feet and took Neville's reins, following Aragorn's trail.
"Should we be interrupting-" Harry began, but Ginny and Hermione were following Luna down the slope already.
"Someone should or we'll be here all night," Ginny laughed, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she followed Hermione. Sighing, Harry got up and picked his way down the hill.
By this time, Aragorn and the woman who was clearly Arwen of Rivendell had broken off the kiss and turned to watch the children. The blond Elf-lord also chose this moment to dismount and walked to stand next to Arwen.
"But who are these, Aragorn?" Arwen asked, her voice high and clear and reminiscent of a peal of bells, or a waterfall. The tops of delicately pointed ears were visible through her hair. "My father spoke of halflings."
"Indeed," said the male Elf. "We had tidings from our kin who were journeying beyond the Baranduin that there were four hobbits astray without guidance and bearing a great burden, and Mithrandir not there to protect them and the Nine abroad."
"Your tidings were true," said Aragorn, bristling slightly at the Elf, "but greater magic than we know intervened. The hobbits have been taken to the far distant future, and these children have come in their place. One of their number bears that which the Nine seek."
Both Elves immediately turned their eyes to Draco, who was slumped over the pony's mane. If anyone looked like they might be carrying a talisman of evil, it was surely him. Aragorn shook his head.
"No, not him. He was injured by the Nine, but was not their target. The one I speak of is this boy." He beckoned Harry forward, seeming not to notice Harry's increasing nervousness. "Harry, son of James, of the family Potter, allow me to introduce Lady Arwen of Rivendell."
Arwen smiled. She was the same height as Aragorn and a full head taller than Harry was, and when she smiled like that, everything else in Harry's vicinity seemed to go a bit vague and fuzzy.
"Hello, my dear," she said, leaning down and holding out a hand to Harry. "It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance."
Harry felt himself go pink and heard himself babbling something which may or may not have been English but probably didn't make sense in any language. Behind him, he heard someone who was almost certainly Ginny tutting.
Arwen looked at him sympathetically. "You are very young, are you not? Even by the standards of Men. Tell me, how many summers do you have?"
"She's asking your age, Harry," said Luna, trying to be helpful. Given that Harry barely remembered his name at this point, this wasn't as much use as it should have been.
"Sixteen, Lady Arwen, he's sixteen," said Hermione, losing patience. "We all are – well, apart from me, I was seventeen a month or so ago. And Ginny and Luna here are still only fifteen at the moment."
"Sixteen, seventeen and fifteen – Valar, you are mere babies!" Arwen gasped. "And to have journeyed through the wilderness with the Nine on your heels – Aragorn, what have you been subjecting these poor children to?"
"They would have fared far worse if I had not been there, my lady," said Aragorn. "And besides, they are not defenceless. They have power to rival Mithrandir's."
"Mithrandir?" the male Elf scoffed. "The Valar do not give power such as his to mere children."
"Glorfindel, that's enough," said Arwen. She stood up and turned to look at the others. "So may I have the names of the rest of you?"
"Hermione Granger," said Hermione at once, going slightly pink herself but retaining her composure. "This is Ginny Weasley, and this is Luna Lovegood. And that," she indicated Draco with the merest nod of her head, "is Draco Malfoy."
Arwen bowed formally. "It is my pleasure and privilege to meet you all. I am Lady Arwen of Rivendell, called by many Undomiel, or Evenstar in your tongue. May I also present my companion, Lord Glorfindel of Rivendell, who is one of my father's chief advisors?"
"And who apparently advised him to let you out of Rivendell with the Nine abroad," scowled Aragorn. "Lady, may I ask how your necklace ended up on the Last Bridge?" He withdrew the Evenstar necklace from his pocket and held it out to her.
"Oh, you found it!" Arwen gasped. "Thank you!" She held out her hand for it, but Aragorn held it back.
"Explanation first," he said firmly. "Then you may have it back."
Arwen pouted, which did look very odd on the face of an Elf-maiden. "Oh very well," she sighed. "When Elrond heard the hobbits were on the Road and in trouble, he sent search parties out North, South and West to find them. Few are there who can ride openly against the Nine, but such as are in Rivendell were sent, my brothers among them."
"And you?" Aragorn prompted. "Elrond surely did not send you."
Arwen bristled at this. "Aragorn, I am of the Eldar and can ride as well as any edhel. I learnt swordcraft from my brothers, magical arts from my parents and grandparents, and my ancestry is as fine as theirs! Why not me?"
"It would be then the first time I have ever seen Lord Elrond willing to expose you to any risk or danger that could be avoided," Aragorn replied. "Did he in truth send you to search for us?"
"Well, not at first," Arwen confessed. "But I had a dream, Aragorn, a dream that I was needed and that I should ride out to find you myself, and I told my father of it and insisted I be allowed to go."
"And he just allowed this?" Aragorn asked, raising an eyebrow.
"No," Glorfindel put in, "it took days of pleading, begging, tantrums, throwing things, refusing to eat and threats to write to Lady Galadriel and tell her she was being mistreated, and that if Luthien Tinuviel could ride into the dread fortress Thangorodrim after her lover, surely she could ride to Bree in search of hers, before my lord Elrond finally gave in and told her she might ride out as long as I accompanied her, and we were to ride no further than the Mitheithel then return."
Arwen blushed only slightly at this version of events. "He said he had had a similar foredream to mine and agreed that I might go. So Glorfindel and I rode out to the Mitheithel, reaching it about seven days ago."
"Three days before we did," said Hermione, calculating the distance. "Was that when we had that awful rain?"
Arwen and Glorfindel exchanged conspiratorial glances. "That would be it, yes."
Aragorn sighed. "Arwen, my love, what did you do?"
"Twas not my fault!" Arwen cried. "We ran into three servants of Sauron on the Bridge of Mitheithel. Glorfindel and I had to fight them."
"Be not alarmed, Aragorn," Glorfindel drawled, noticing Aragorn's reaction to this news. "We did no such thing – they fled when they saw us and the worst that befell us was, after a day's pursuit, my Lady discovering that she had lost her necklace in the process."
"Yes, and had you a lover who had gifted you with something so precious, you also would have mourned the loss as I did," Arwen snapped at him. She turned gentle eyes on Aragorn. "My love, I could never take easily the loss of something you had given me."
Aragorn did actually blush at this, turning away hastily. He held the necklace out to her.
"Then find it returned to your care, my lady." He let it fall into her hands. Arwen took it from him and refastened it around her neck, sighing happily. The stone actually glowed as it fell into place.
"There, that is better," Arwen laughed. "Anyway, we faced three of them and it looked as if they were planning to fight us, but Glorfindel and I did some weather magic and brought rain. There is no rain in Mordor and so it encouraged them to leave and we followed to make sure they did."
"So that was your fault?" Ginny said. "That was the most miserable night we'd had in a long time."
"My apologies, daughter of Man," said Arwen with a smile. "I forget this sort of thing is much worse for your kind than ours. But surely rain is preferable to the Nine invading your camp?"
Ginny thought back to that night on Weathertop and had to admit this was the case.
"We also came across two others, but they rode away to the South," Glorfindel said, taking up the story. "After that, we searched for your trail for a day but found nothing. So, mindful of Lord Elrond's request, we rode back to the Bridge and there we found your trail. We found you'd gone into the hills, but we feared for our horses if we followed you."
"And if our mounts could not manage the trail, be sure the Nine's would not," Arwen added. "So we followed the Road East, hoping we would find you on the way. And so it has proved!"
"Fortunate indeed are we," said Glorfindel. "Not so with your injured companion, I see. For I have seen mortally wounded Men and Elves who have seemed yet healthier than he. 'Ware, Lady Granger, he looks to fall!"
Hermione turned round just as Draco's eyes closed and he slid from the pony. She was only just able to catch him before he hit the ground.
"Help... me!" she gasped. Glorfindel and Aragorn were by her side in seconds, taking Draco's weight from her and lowering him to the ground. Arwen reached for a pouch that hung from her horse and went to kneel at his side.
"What ails him?" she asked gently. Aragorn related the tale of the attack at Weathertop and how Draco had intervened when the Nazgul had induced Harry to put the Ring on. The faces of both Elves grew solemn to hear it.
"Aie, this is beyond my power to heal," sighed Glorfindel. "Lady, what think you?"
Arwen shook her head as she stroked Draco's hair, staring at his eyes which were half-open, half-closed and clearly seeing nothing.
"I do not know," she sighed. "I think even my father would be tested in the curing of this hurt. But I will do what I can." She withdrew a vial of clear liquid from her bag and let a few drops fall into Draco's mouth, before sliding an arm under him to cradle his head in her lap and beginning to sing to him in Sindarin.
"What's she singing?" Hermione whispered to Luna. "It sounds beautiful!" And so it did – the shadows seemed to shrink back and a feeling of peace fell over all of them.
"I think it might be a lullaby," Luna whispered back, "except there's healing magic mixed in it, so perhaps it's what an Elf might sing to a sick child. It translates roughly as:
Rest, my little one,
Sleep, my little one,
Safe in Elbereth's arms you are,
Safe from the knife that cuts
And the rock that grazes.
Safe from the poison,
Safe from the Shadow,
Safe in the arms of Elbereth.
Wake, my little one,
Rise, my little one,
Rise to sunlit splendour.
Rise with the strength of trees
And the swiftness of the River.
Wake from nightmares,
Wake to the dawn rise,
Wake in the arms of Elbereth!"
"Elbereth," Draco moaned, eyes flicking open. "O Elbereth!" He stared at Arwen's face, eyes clear and far less grey and gaunt than he had been. "You... are you...?"
Arwen just smiled.
"My name is Arwen," she told him.
"Arwen..." Draco repeated. Then he gasped. "You are Arwen? Arwen the Evenstar?"
"That is so, yes," said Arwen, frowning. "Young one, you are new to this world and yet have heard of me? I did not know my name was known widely outside of the Eldar."
"It's not," Draco whispered. "I mean... it's not known outside your family, even in our time."
"Family?" said Glorfindel sharply. "Arwen, what does he mean, surely the Eldar have all gone West by the year of his birth, if Aragorn speaks true?"
Arwen fingered her necklace, her pretty face frozen in astonishment. "I have... kin in Middle Earth in the far future? Eldar?"
Draco shook his head. "No, my lady. Wizards and witches. You... you're my many, many times over great-grandmother."
"What?" Hermione cried. "You're not telling me he's part-Elf!"
"House Elf, I could believe," Ginny muttered. She noticed the queasy looks on Harry and Hermione's faces at this. "Come on, you're not telling me no member of the Black family ever..."
"It's true," said Luna. "Or at least the Blacks believe it to be true. My mother always told me the reason for the Blacks' obsession with blood purity was that they thought they were descended from Elves and didn't want to dilute the bloodline any more than it already was. They're wrong, of course, it was so long ago by our time that the Elven genes are found pretty much everywhere. Even Muggles have them."
Shaking, Arwen was getting to her feet, brushing her dress off and steadily ignoring both Aragorn and Glorfindel, who were staring at her with looks of amazement and betrayal respectively.
"My lady," Glorfindel whispered, looking near tears, "you truly would not, could not leave your people..."
"Draco shall ride with me," Arwen announced, as if Glorfindel had not spoken. "The children shall mount their packs on the pony, and Glorfindel, your horse will take Harry the Ringbearer in case we are set upon by the enemy. Everyone else must walk and walk immediately. The enemy are not as far behind us as I would like and we are yet too far from Rivendell." So saying, she gathered her healer's pouch and mounted her horse in one single move so fast, it appeared she had almost Apparated onto its back. "Aragorn, Glorfindel, hand the stricken one to me."
Glorfindel, despite shooting Aragorn a look of what looked almost like hate, nevertheless helped him lift Draco and pass him to Arwen. She touched Draco's shoulders and her fingers began to glow as she pulled him in front of her with surprising ease.
"Magic," Hermione whispered. "I think she just levitated him!"
"Nay, my lady," said Glorfindel, his keen hearing picking her words out. "Tis no great magic, just the using of the boy's own weight to move him. It is a skill most Eldar learn young. Come," and with an effort he buried his melancholy and smiled at them, "let me demonstrate with the Ringbearer. Stand by Asfaloth, son of James, take hold of his mane and place your foot in my hand." He stood by his horse, waiting with hands cupped. Nervously, Harry approached and did as the Elf had bid.
"Now, young Harry, jump!" Glorfindel cried. Harry did so, the Elf moved his hands, and next thing Harry knew, he was seated on horseback and Glorfindel was adjusting the stirrups to fit.
"How... how did you -?" Harry began.
"Tis simple," Glorfindel grinned. "Your body has weight, and that weight exerts a force that keeps you on the ground. It is a simple matter to take that force and send a little of it in the other direction."
"But that's a core principle behind most forms of martial arts and magical flight!" Hermione gasped. "And all the Elves just use it without even thinking about it?"
"Now you've done it," Ginny laughed as Hermione immediately began bombarding Glorfindel with questions. "You'll never stop her now."
"No, no, the distraction is welcome," Glorfindel laughed good-naturedly, before calmly answering Hermione's questions as they set off for Rivendell.
Despite the cheerful beginning, even Hermione ran low on spirits after a while, as the night bore on and it became evident they weren't going to stop for a rest. Arwen and Glorfindel passed round some small flakes of lembas, or waybread, that they had left, which helped, but it was no real substitute for sleep. Glorfindel did at least let the Gryffindors take turns riding his horse so that each of them got a turn to rest their legs.
They finally stopped a little before dawn, and Arwen let them all drink a little of the clear potion she carried with her. For five hours and little more they slept, and then the two Elves were urging them awake once more. Breakfast was finished hastily, and then they resumed walking. The two Elves were constantly glancing over their shoulders anxiously, and both of them had hurried and urgent conversations with Aragorn and each other.
"What are they saying?" Ginny asked Luna.
"It is not good," said Luna, looking rather anxious herself. "They think the five Nazgul behind us have got our scent and are chasing us. They're far behind at the moment but they'll catch up, probably soon. That's why they want to press on, because they don't want to be caught before we reach the Fords. Also they're worried about where the other four are, and they think there might be an ambush planned."
"Oh, that's cheery," said Ginny faintly. "Is there any good news?"
"Not really, not unless you count Glorfindel telling Arwen that Aragorn's not good enough for her and begging her to reconsider, and Arwen tersely telling him that she will follow her heart or fade from this Earth."
"Some definition of good," Ginny sniffed. "Blood purity alive and well even this long ago, then."
Luna shook her head. "It's not the same. Elves and humans, they're not the same species although they are related and can interbreed. Elves are ageless immortals, humans age and die in only a few years – if Arwen did marry Aragorn, she'd have to watch him grow old while she stayed ever young, and then be widowed after only an eye-blink by her standards. Not only that, but the Elves are leaving Middle Earth – by the time Aragorn dies, they'll have left for Valinor, and she'll be stranded, the last of her kind. She'll never see any of her family again. That's why the Elves are all against her marrying Aragorn – she's their beautiful Evenstar and they don't want to leave her behind."
"But she's Draco's ancestor," said Hermione. "So that must mean she stayed and married Aragorn and had mortal children."
Luna nodded. "Exactly. Which is why Glorfindel's so upset – it's one thing to know Arwen loves a mortal and that she'll probably marry him after the battle against Sauron, but not really having to think about it because it hasn't happened yet. It's another entirely to see the proof many times removed that the wedding really did happen and she really did stay behind."
"Elrond's not going to take the news any better, is he?" said Hermione. Luna shook her head.
"Probably not."
"Yes, but will he still want to help us get home?" Ginny asked.
"I don't know," said Luna thoughtfully. "But he is an Elf. They aren't like humans, and even if something upsets them and hurts them, they are far less likely to lose their temper at it like a human would. I think he will want to do what he can."
"I hope you're right," Ginny sighed.
They journeyed all that day and through much of the night too, but Arwen and Glorfindel did this time at least stop before midnight and allow them to rest for the night. All too soon though, rest was over and they were setting out again as the sun rose. The journey was uneventful, but as the morning wore on, both Elves and Aragorn were looking increasingly anxious, and after lunch, Glorfindel insisted that Harry ride his horse again and stay on it this time until they'd crossed the Fords.
"I'm sure I can walk," Harry protested, feeling rather guilty at riding while the girls walked alongside. He was sure none of them would have ever admitted it, but all three looked exhausted. Glorfindel shook his head.
"No, Harry. My heart tells me danger is not far away, and I fear it will get worse as we approach Bruinen. You must ride so that you may escape if the Nine fall on us, and keep the Ring from their clutches."
"What?" Harry cried. "I can't ride off and let you lot do all the fighting! It's me they want, after all."
"Exactly," said Aragorn, falling in on the other side of the horse. "It's you they want, and that which you bear, and so we must ensure that you are able to flee from them by giving you a mount faster than theirs. Fear not, Harry; you are not abandoning us to mortal peril. Rather, the mortal peril is that which you bear, and the Nine will leave us in peace if you are elsewhere."
This was not nearly as cheering to Harry as Aragorn had intended and his face showed it. Arwen, whose keen Elven ears had overheard everything, glanced over her shoulder with a smile.
"Have no fear, Harry," she called, and really, the ancestor of Bellatrix Lestrange and Draco Malfoy had no right whatsoever to be that pretty, "all you need do is cross Bruinen and then you will be in my father's land. The Nine cannot hurt you there!"
All well and good, thought Harry, but first they had to get there. The day wore on, but finally the Road wound its way through a narrow ravine and then out on to the Bruinen's flood plain, the river clearly visible in the sunlight as it wound its away across the landscape. Harry had never seen a sight so welcome.
"Not far now," he sighed.
"Too far," he heard Draco moan from the back of Arwen's horse, and as one Arwen and Glorfindel turned to look behind them, Elven ears quivering. Then Harry heard it too – the echoing sound of hoofbeats... and none of them were moving. Taking Asfaloth's reins in one hand, he gripped his wand with the other, and noted the three witches reaching for theirs.
"Fly! Fly!" Glorfindel cried. "The Enemy is here!" Arwen did not need to be told twice and her horse took off without another word. Harry hesitated, torn between going after her and helping his friends, until Glorfindel took the decision out of his hands by clapping Asfaloth's side and ordering the horse to flee. Harry cried as the horse sprang forward, bolting after Arwen.
Harry had ridden a broomstick plenty of times, but this didn't even come close. It wasn't quite like riding a Thestral either – at least a Thestral would have responded to him. Asfaloth clearly had one intention and one intention only – to get to the river as swiftly as possible, and nothing Harry could do was going to change that. Clinging on to his wand and the reins, he kept his head down. A glance behind him saw his friends scattering as five Black Riders bolted out of the ravine and fanned out to give chase. A few silver Patroni chased after them, but didn't follow them far. Harry looked away, hoping for better news up ahead. Asfaloth had now caught up with Arwen, and the two horses were neck and neck. Arwen saw him and gave him an encouraging smile.
"Fear not!" she called out. "These horses can outride any beast of Mordor!" In front of her, Draco, apparently conscious but wishing he wasn't, was looking far less confident. He was looking to his right, behind Harry and his eyes had gone wide. Harry would have looked, but he could see what Arwen and Draco hadn't – another Rider emerging from behind them to cut them off.
"Lady, behind you!" he cried.
"And you!" she cried, before spurring her horse on as she drew her sword with her left hand, brandishing it at the Rider and shouting at it in Sindarin. Harry hadn't thought Sindarin had any swearing in it, but Arwen was assuredly using the nearest thing it had. However, he had little time to think about it as a look to his right revealed another Nazgul closing in.
"Expecto Patronum!" he cried, and the silver stag leapt out, causing them both to rear and fall back. It had bought them a little time, at least, and the river was right in front of them. If we can just keep going...
A high-pitched cry issued from one of the Riders, and Harry felt his heart sink as the final two Nazgul appeared up ahead, on a course to intercept them before they reached the Ford. Arwen cried out, an anguished Sindarin wail that did at least cause one of the Riders to hesitate. Harry didn't have it in him for another Patronus, but he did manage a fire charm aimed at the robes of the Nazgul nearest him, causing its horse to rear as the wraith tried to beat the flames out. Asfaloth thundered into the River, water soaking Harry's robes in the process, but he barely noticed. The Elven war-horse finally came to a halt on the other side and Harry gratefully slid off its back before looking to see where Arwen was.
Arwen and the Rider that had been tailing her were riding neck and neck, and her mare was visibly tiring. The Nazgul cackled in jubilation as it pulled ahead, ghostly hands reaching for Draco. Arwen shrieked at it and it withdrew its hand, but still managed to wheel in front of her. Arwen cried out what sounded like an invocation to Elbereth, ready to fight but clearly terrified. And then Draco sat up and drew his wand, trembling. He shouted something, and then his own Patronus, a great eagle, sprang forward at the Nazgul. Shrieking, it wheeled its horse away and fell back, and Arwen's mare galloped into the Ford. Harry stepped back as the mare came to a halt next to him, eyes wide and breathing heavily. Arwen slid off her back, clearly exhausted.
"She is a good horse, but she was not bred for war," Arwen whispered. "Here, Harry, help me get Draco off her back." Harry did so and watched as Arwen spoke briefly to her horse and sent it on its way.
"There, she will go to my father's house," said Arwen. "He will not fail to send aid when he sees his daughter's horse come back riderless. But come, we are not safe yet and the young Malfoy is exhausted after that. Aragorn spoke the truth when he said your power rivalled Mithrandir's!"
Harry felt himself blushing at the compliment, but now was not the time to worry about that. The Nine Riders were massing on the other side of the river, and even though technically they were now in Rivendell and should be safe, in reality Harry couldn't see anything that would stop them crossing over.
"Can they enter it?" he asked, feeling his throat go dry. Arwen nodded, smiling.
"Oh, they can enter it," said Arwen, her voice cold and hard, and in that moment Harry did see something of a family resemblance to Bellatrix Lestrange. She called out to them, in the tongue of Men this time. "Come then, Ringwraiths! If you want it, come and claim it!"
Draco stirred at her feet. "What is she doing?" he murmured.
"I don't know, but I think she's taunting them," Harry answered.
"Oh buggering hell," Draco moaned. "Why are all the women in my family so utterly insane?"
"Be quiet, young one," Arwen snapped, raising her sword as she glared at the Riders. "I want them to enter the River, I want them all to enter the River!" She turned, giving Harry a very cold smile indeed that was pure Lestrange or he had never met the woman. "And then I will make sure they never leave it. Are you with me, son of James?"
Harry decided there and then that he was very glad she was on their side. "I'm with you!" he said fervently.
"And you, son of Lucius?" she asked Draco. Slowly, Draco dragged himself to his knees. His eyes were glazed over and he was shivering... but he looked determined.
"I am done," he said, slowly and deliberately, "with being ordered around by Dark Lords!" He rolled his sleeve back to reveal his left forearm, bare and free of the Mark at last. Harry stared and looked up to see Draco's face alive with unholy glee.
"That's right, Potter, Sauron's fought my Mark and now he's coming for me. But damned if I'm letting him get me without a fight!" He turned to face the Riders, raising his wand. "Come on then, you pathetic excuses for minions, come and get me if you want me that much!"
The lead Rider barked out a laugh and urged his horse on into the water. "Why do you fight, young wizard?" it hissed. "Join us, we will give you far more power than the puny mortal you once served ever could!"
"Never!" Draco snarled, before wincing in pain and grabbing his arm. Arwen glanced at him, alarmed, before reaching down to stroke his hair.
"Ssh, young one, if you are mine, you are Elbereth's, I will not let them take you."
"Elbereth," Draco whispered. "Oh Elbereth, I just want to go home." Another shaking fit took hold of him as he screamed in pain. The lead Rider laughed, halfway over now, and the others were close behind, with only three still on the far bank.
"Come, little wizard, come with us!" the Nazgul called. "Take the Ring from the other one and come to Mordor with us! Sauron will reward you!"
Draco whimpered, clutching at his shoulder. Seeing this, Arwen squeezed his good shoulder.
"Do not believe them," she said softly. Draco nodded but said nothing. Harry narrowed his eyes and raised his wand.
"You will never take the Ring from me!" Harry growled. "Go back to the hell you came from!"
"The Ring is too great for you, mortal child!" the Nazgul leader snarled, less than three feet away now. "It will master you in the end and bring you to Sauron's knees. Come, come with us, hand it over of your own will, and Sauron will be merciful."
"Never!" cried Harry, clutching at the chain around his neck, mind pulsing with hate at the idea of anyone taking it from him. "I'll never give it to you." He raised his wand, preparing to strike.
"Then we will take it," the Nazgul hissed. "We will kill you, and the Elf-maiden, you cannot hold against all of us, and your friends are too far to help you. We will take the Ring and enslave your friend, and when the others arrive, we will kill them too!" The lead Nazgul's horse lifted its hoof, ready to step out of the River.
"Arwen," Harry began, glancing at the Elf and not quite managing to keep the panic out of his voice, "if you have a plan, now would be a really good time to do something about it..."
Arwen didn't seem to hear him. She was watching the last Nazgul, whose horse had just stepped into the river. Stepping back, she lifted her hands above her head, placed her palms together with her eyes closed and cried something that Harry could have sworn sounded like "Fluvius Majestis Defensor Me, Imladris Filia Imperata!"
Next to him, Draco lifted his head. "That was not Latin, surely?"
"Can't have been, no Romans for millennia," said Harry. "You heard it too?"
"Might of the River, defend me, I, Daughter of Imladris, command it," said Draco. "Or something like it." He stared at Arwen. "She and they, they are the only real things any more, everything else is so grey, Arwen, please don't let them take me!" The last sentence broke into a sob. Harry instinctively reached out and awkwardly patted Draco's shoulder, becoming aware as he did so of a roar that was not caused by Nazgul. He turned to look at Arwen. She was standing impassively in front of the first Nazgul, staring back at him with seemingly no fear. The distant roar, rather like that of a waterfall grew louder. The Nazgul's horse reared above Arwen, Draco cried in agony and Harry for a moment feared that the horse was about to strike her down.
Before the hooves could fall, the roar intensified and what looked like a tidal wave burst around the corner, river water sweeping all in its path. Harry could have sworn that the waves had white horses leaping at their crests. The Nazgul didn't have a chance, shrieking as the water hit him and the hooves of the water horses crashed into them. The spray from the river fell on them all as the water swept past, taking with it Nine Riders to who knew where. Arwen just watched, impassive, as the water carried them away before falling slowly back to its usual level. Through the spray, Harry could just see the outlines of three witches with wands held high, one glowing Elf-lord brimming with power, and Aragorn with a flaming brand in each hand, his eyes travelling briefly over Harry and Draco before settling on Arwen. She was watching him through the spray-clouds, smiling, and this time there was nothing of Bellatrix in her smile.
"Elessar and Undomiel," Harry heard Draco whisper. "It's true, it's all true, and here am I, biggest bloody half-breed going as a result. Damn, Mother, we're wrong, all of us, so bloody stupid, what's Muggles and wizards compared to those two?"
"Draco?" Harry asked. Draco just smiled up at him, peace on his face despite his eyes having clouded over with a horrible shade of grey.
"Death to Dark Lords," Draco whispered. "If you make it home, try and save my mother." His eyes closed and he collapsed in Harry's arms, breathing but only just.
"What, no, Draco, you can't just... Arwen!" Harry cried, fighting the urge to panic. Arwen turned, eyes widening as she rushed to Harry's side, crying out in Sindarin and pouring healing potions down Draco's throat. Behind her, he heard splashing as the others forded the river, and from the other direction, horses and bells. And then there were other Elves around them as an Elven war-party rode in and dismounted around them. Many strange but beautiful voices surrounded him, and Arwen got to her feet, crying "Ada, ada!" at the seeming leader, a dark-haired elf with a forbidding expression but undoubtedly with similar features to her. They embraced briefly before he knelt down next to Draco and began tracing his shoulder, rapidly plying Arwen with questions. Glorfindel was soon there too, joining in the conversation, and Aragorn was standing behind Arwen, adding his own contribution.
"Harry!" Hermione cried. "Are you alright?" She flung her arms around him without waiting for an answer.
"I'm fine," said Harry. "I think. I don't know about Draco though, I – I really don't. I think he might be..." He felt himself choking on the words. He can't die here, we can't leave him behind!
Hermione tightened her grip, and he was aware of Ginny on his other side, joining them in a three-way hug. Next to them, he was aware of Luna standing alone, watching the Elves surrounding him. Draco was face down and his clothes had been torn off his upper half. The dark-haired leader who looked like Arwen and could really only be her father, Elrond, was wielding a knife and slowly drawing it across Draco's shoulder.
"He will be alright," Luna whispered, turning away to face them, tears in her eyes and not looking at all like she really believed that at the moment.
"That will be in the hands of the Valar," a man's voice came from behind them, "but be assured Elrond will do all he can for your friend."
All four turned and gasped. Before them was a tall man in grey robes and broad hat, with a long white beard and a staff, and looking so like Dumbledore that Harry barely stopped himself from calling the wizard, for clearly he was one, by his Headmaster's name.
"Oh! You're Gandalf!" Luna cried, clearly delighted. The wizard bowed with a smile.
"That is indeed a name of mine," he replied. "The Elves call me Mithrandir, and I have had many other names in many other times and places. I do not, however, have the pleasure of yours."
"Luna Lovegood," said Luna. "These are Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter, and the one Elrond's looking after is Draco Malfoy. They're my friends."
"Indeed," said Gandalf. "And it seems you call Aragorn and the Evenstar and Lord Glorfindel friend too, seeing as all of them have risked their lives to bring you here. However, I have other friends too, four of them of the race known as Hobbits. Do you know them as well?"
Harry felt himself blushing and could see Ginny and Hermione also not sure how to answer this. Aragorn's resemblance to Sirius, and the fact he'd not seemed to know the hobbits personally, had made things a lot less awkward when explaining to him. Gandalf, however, seemed a lot less friendly, and clearly he'd known the ones they'd replaced. As one, all three turned to Luna, who was the only one not embarrassed.
"Not personally, but they should be quite safe in the far future," she said calmly. "That's where we came from. We were sent back here by a spell, and it took the hobbits in exchange. They'll stay in the future while we help here."
"I see. And how are you to help us, I wonder," said Gandalf, stroking his beard. "You do have power, that much is obvious from the way you fought off the Nine. And the boy Draco saved Arwen's life, that will count for much with Elrond. You also stood against Sauron's agents, so that is well. But still, there is much I do not know or understand about all this."
"Well, that makes all of us, sir," said Ginny. "But if there's anything we can do while we're here, we'll gladly help if we can."
Gandalf did smile at that. "Young lady, do not make promises without knowing what must be done to fulfil them. But I see you have a good heart and the offer is well made, so I will take that into consideration. Ah, I see Elrond is done with your comrade." Sure enough, Elrond was sitting back from Draco, a sliver of metal hovering in the air in front of him. Catching Gandalf's eye, he indicated with a hand and sent it drifting towards the wizard. Gandalf reached out with his staff as it approached and touched it, causing it to immediately catch fire and go up in smoke, molten remains falling to the ground and shrivelling into nothing.
"What was that?" Hermione asked.
"A sliver of a Morgul-blade, the same sliver that was causing such pain to your friend. It is removed now, and I am hopeful that his suffering will be at an end." By the river, Elrond was drawing a finger over the cut in Draco's shoulder, sealing the wound. One Elf came over with a bowl of river water, a towel and a bar of soap for Elrond to wash his hands in, while two more had readied a makeshift stretcher and were carefully moving Draco on to it. While still unconscious, he was already looking a lot healthier, and the horrible grey tinge had gone from his skin.
"Come, it seems we are on the move," said Gandalf. The two Elves carrying Draco's stretcher were securing both ends to horses with strong-woven Elven ropes and leading him away, and another had already ridden off to bear news of their coming and begin preparations. Elrond was talking with Glorfindel as they walked, and Aragorn was with Arwen. Both of them gave the children sympathetic glances, but it seemed neither was willing to intervene while they spoke with Gandalf.
"Walk with me, young ones, and tell me more of how you came to be here," said Gandalf, apparently deciding that they meant no harm. "I would know more of your world and your powers, and the spell that sent you here. Decisions on your eventual fate will have to wait until Elrond can call a council and hear you out, but I believe this tale will be long in the telling, so perhaps it is best for me to hear it while we walk. Young Luna, was it? Walk next to me and tell me of your journey. I see there is much to be told."
Luna cheerfully ran to his side and began telling him everything, about Hogwarts, Voldemort, Dumbledore, about Calenlass's arrival and instructions from Elbereth that the four of them should be sent back in time in order to help save Middle Earth and themselves. Harry, Hermione and Ginny could only fall in behind and follow.
In the far future, Voldemort closed the book, sitting back in the armchair closest to the fire, his face impassive.
"My lord?" Bellatrix asked, nervously.
"It appears your nephew is lost to us," Voldemort said, his face remaining neutral. "I feared it would be so."
Bellatrix exchanged glances with Snape. They were seated at opposite ends of a battered antique sofa that had clearly seen better days, in what had once been the drawing room of the old Riddle House in Little Hangleton, and now served as Voldemort's personal office. "Lost, my lord? Is he... is he dead?"
"As far as I am concerned, yes." Voldemort shrugged. "No matter." He snapped his fingers. "Wormtail!"
Wormtail scurried forward, wringing his hands. "My lord?"
"Take Flint, Derrick and the Carrows. Then go and fetch that which we discussed earlier."
"My lord, we discussed many things earlier – ah!" Voldemort, his patience snapping, grabbed Wormtail by the robes, staring into his eyes.
"I believe you know what I am referring to," he said, his voice soft but no less menacing. Wormtail nodded in terror. Voldemort released him and the wizard fled, clearly not eager to be around his leader for any longer than necessary. Bellatrix glanced at Snape, who clearly knew no more than she did.
"My lord," he began, "tell me, what has transpired in Arda? Is it something likely to help or hinder our cause?"
"Be quiet, Snape. It hardly matters if we cannot get there, does it?" Voldemort sat brooding, staring into the flames. "I do not believe this will work, but it has to be worth trying." He fell silent, and nothing more could be got out of him for another half hour... not until a commotion in the hallway indicated Wormtail had returned. And not just Wormtail, it seemed. Bellatrix started to hear a familiar voice among them.
"Unhand me at once, I have shown no disloyalty, there is absolutely no need to treat me like some kind of criminal!"
"Narcissa?" Bellatrix whispered, incredulous. From the look on his face, it was clear Snape hadn't expected this either.
"My lord, you cannot surely mean..." Snape breathed. Voldemort smiled.
"It is a thin chance, I admit. But the prize is worth it. Wormtail, enter!" he called, getting to his feet. The door opened, and Wormtail strode in, followed by four Death Eaters who were busy trying to get Narcissa Malfoy to do as she was told, never an easy task as Lucius could easily have told them had he still been alive. Having finally reached their destination, they flung her at the Dark Lord's feet.
Slowly, Narcissa looked up, her earlier fury giving way before the Dark Lord's gaze. Accustomed to getting her own way she might be, but she had never been a fool.
"My lord?" she asked, eyes darting to Snape and Bellatrix. "Is something wrong? I would gladly have come at your summons, there was no need to send force..."
"My apologies, Narcissa, it appears my followers have been a little heavy-handed in carrying out their duties. Rest assured they shall be suitably punished. Narcissa, I am afraid I have some grievous news for you regarding your son. I assume Bellatrix has told you that the Red Book is rewriting itself with events in Arda."
Narcissa nodded, her face growing pale. "My lord, is he alright? I mean, he is not..."
"He lives. For now. But it appears he has forsaken our cause. He has found a way to rid himself of his Mark and the last words the book records him saying are, it appears, 'Death to Dark Lords'."
A muscle in Narcissa's cheek twitched, the one Bellatrix remembered as signifying that Narcissa was desperately attempting to keep from laughing. Interesting indeed.
"Narcissa, do you not believe me?" Voldemort's voice almost purred. Narcissa's cheek stopped moving.
"I... it does not sound terribly like him," said Narcissa, choosing her words carefully.
"Oh, but it is true, Narcissa," Voldemort assured her. He handed her the book, opening it to the section in question. "Here, read for yourself."
Narcissa took it from him and started to read it. As she did so, Voldemort circled behind her, glancing over her, and as he reached inside his robes for his wand, both Bellatrix and Snape realised what he meant to do.
"My lord, no, use mine!" Bellatrix cried. Too late. Voldemort lifted his wand and struck. The curse passed into Narcissa's back, through her chest and out the other side, burning a hole in the floor. Blood poured from her and on to the book. Narcissa's eyes widened, and she stared stupefied at the blood before her eyes closed and she fainted.
"Sister, no!" Bellatrix cried, her hand to her mouth. Snape barely reacted at all, just staring at the dying woman in front of him. Voldemort stood still, watching the book. Nothing happened.
"I did not think it would work," Voldemort sighed. "Bella, clearly your copy is defective. It must be the copy at Hogwarts that is magical in itself. I shall have to give thought on how best to acquire it. Wormtail, come with me. Bella, Severus, clean up in here, will you?" With that, he swept out, leaving Bellatrix and Severus kneeling at the stricken Narcissa's side.
Notes: I did warn you it was dark! If it's any consolation, I'll probably be getting the next chapter out soonish, so not long to wait to find out if Narcissa lives or not. Also I couldn't decide whether to follow the books and have Glorfindel meet them on the Road, or the movies and have Arwen do it. Then I recalled they'd need to get two wizards on horseback, Harry the Ringbearer and Draco in need of urgent medical attention, so would likely need two horses. Hence a compromise arrangement by which both Arwen and Glorfindel turn up. Ada = Sindarin for father. Arwen's basically seen Elrond and is calling for her dad to get over there and help her.
