Chapter 6 – Waylaid Mitigation

Part II

"…..Nan galad." (To the light) faint voices whispered.

"….Telin le thaed. Lasto beth nîn, tolo dan nangalad." (Listen to my voice. Come back to the light.) The same voice intoned, hidden desperation leaking into the chanted verse. Thranduil felt the darkness closing in on his hröa (body) and suffocating his fëa (soul) with its malignancy.

Although deprived of his strength and body all but destroyed beyond repair, Thranduil held strong against the overbearing shadow. Grasping his most cherished memories and holding them closely to his heart while his physical self-drifted into the sea of oblivion.

Losing touch with his physical body, Thranduil roamed the vast grey expanse before him. Keeping a vicelike grip on his reasons for living, Thranduil searched for a way back to his Little Greenleaf, he searched for hour's perhaps even days, looking for anything that could be used for his purpose. Occasionally he would glimpse a ray of golden light, catch the whispers of the woods and the pure healing chants of his people in the air. With every step he took in their direction, Thranduil seemed to head ten paces back contrary to his intended destination. Changing directions but not destination, he would backtrack and head towards the fading light. Only to break into a run the last second and reach with his free hand towards the vanishing whispers of life. Snarling in frustration Thranduil stalked his way from the last 'doorway' to the land of the living and ran terse fingers through his hair. Pulling at the strands in amounting despair and incompetency.

"I refuse to be parted with my son. I refuse to remain incarcerated in this maddening grey-prison." He all but growled, cyan eyes flashing with steely determination.

"Adar! Naneth! " a familiar voice cried. Snapping his head in the voices direction Thranduil narrowed his eyes in confusion….and grief.

The expansive land before his eyes slowly disappeared and transformed itself into a painfully familiar wooden glen encased with a large whimsical bed of trumpet blooms, lavender on the outside and white on the inside. Standing tall and proud in the center of the lavender bed, was a weeping willow tree. Slender, graceful with drooping branches, bathed in blue-green leaves.

A small, radiant elfling with sun-kissed blond hair and brilliant, joyful cyan eyes ran inside the glen. Holding an intricate cherry-twig crown with a matching rose petal-one in his small hands.

An amused female voice called out, "My Little Greenleaf, what do you have there? That has you so excited?" The owner of the voice walked out of the shade and knelt before Little Legolas. Thranduil felt his heart clench painfully, a stinging could be felt behind his expressive eyes.

A warm, gentle smile graced her features. Little Legolas giggled before presenting his rose petal crown to her, puffing his chest proudly at the astonished look he received in turn. "A beautiful flower crown for the fairest elleth in the GreenWood" he charmingly said with an adorable smile spread across his face showcasing his dimples. "Blessed it be the lucky Eldar who captures your heart my ionneg." (Son) She bowed her head in silent invitation for Little Legolas to bestow upon her brow the crown. Placing her hands on each side of his face she leaned towards him placing a soft kiss upon his forehead. "Thank-you for your thoughtful gift, Little Greenleaf."

Thranduil watched as the pair turned their heads to the side, craning their senses as another figure comes upon the glen bringing with them a basket full of bread, grapes, elven wine and milk. "A trail of broken hearts will be left in your wake Little Greenleaf, you're more of a charmer than myself. I fear for the kingdoms populace." The figure dramatically said while holding a hand against his forehead in mock-despair. Giggles met his statement before a child-like voice happily said, "I want to be just like my Adar when I grow up! Strong, proud, honorable and benevolent to all!" The shadowed figure approached Little Legolas before ruffling through his hair, causing him to release a squeal of protest.

Thranduil has known grief as well as the back of his own hand. Throughout the years he has lost many of his people, family and friends. But none of those times could compare to the consuming grief he felt at this particular moment, witnessing one of his most bitter-sweet memories of times long forgotten. "What do you have in your hands ionneg?"(Son)

The shadow knelt before the child and proceeded to mimic the actions earlier completed by the young woman. "A crown crafted by the very woods you will rule over someday. A crown fit for the Greatest Elven King second to none other but Grandfather." The shadowed figure released a peal of delighted laughter before grabbing the child and lifting him up off the ground. Before swirling around in circles causing the child to release joyous peals of laughter.

"Legolas. My dearest Greenleaf." The figure placed a kiss on the child's cheek, hugging him to his figure and running his fingers through golden tresses.

"Our little one is correct in his assumptions. It suits you, endearingly so mellon-nin."(Friend) The young woman generously beamed, a shy blush across her face.

"Come mellon." (Friend) The figure said, wrapping a firm arm around the woman and planting a soft kiss upon her head. "My greatest treasures" the figure whispered.

Thranduil watched as the memory slowly dispersed in a waterfall of glimmers only to reveal the very-real and solid personification of the young woman smiling serenely in his direction.

"This was always one of my most fond memories of us." The woman said with a faraway look in her hazel green eyes. She cocked her head to the side smiling at a memory only she could see.

Waist long hair flowed down a petite figure in a moonlit cataract, skin resembling the shade of freshly drawn milk and the incandescent of starlight.

"Thranduil, mellon-nin, you haven't changed since our last meeting. You're as stubborn and reckless as ever. Both traits that endeared me to you." Lady Alavara amusedly stated while ambling forward. Her deep V-neck royal blue lace dress flowing befittingly against her figure. The bodice was embedded with pure-white crystals in tulle satin. A long train in a softer shade of royal blue trailed behind her shimmering in starlight. Thranduil turned his head following her every move in a state of pure-shock. Along her slim neck rested the famed jewels of Lasgalen in a striking array of evened-layers. Each layer composed of numerous illuminated hand-crafted white gems, one layer beneath the other complimenting the exposed skin of her neck and chest.

"A-Alavara. It...It can't…." Unable to form a coherent sentence, Thranduil looks imploringly at his former wife and best friend. It used to be as natural as breathing to speak with each other. After spending decades married and even more as close friends, they knew each other inside and out with all their faults and strengths. With the untimely death of Alavara's love and with Thranduil's capacity to reign as King questioned, both childhood friends joined in a beneficial union for both kingdoms. As is the desolate and heart wrenching duty of the Royal and Noble Houses.

'To marry for love is a coveted godsend. To marry for your people is an honor. To marry for the benefit of two kingdoms is a duty.'

Light chuckles filled the space between both companions. She always had a smile gracing her face, eyes glittering with hidden mischief and joy. Standing before him now, Thranduil couldn't wrap his head around the experience much less seeing his deceased friend again. Was he dead? Or was this a last-resort his consciousness conjured in order to receive a semblance of comfort while he waited for judgement in Mandos's Halls?

"You are currently in the in-between of life and death, mellon-nin. (Friend)The mess you've gotten yourself into…" Lady Alavara shook her head in fond exasperation. "I wondered why Lord Oropher sent me to aid you in his stead and now I know." She sauntered in front of him and began stabbing his chest with her pointer finger to emphasize her words. "Thranduil, we have managed to forestall your 'death' this time around. Your reckless, although honorable, actions and penchant to act first and plan later will get you decidedly killed someday!"

Thranduil was still reeling from Alavara's revelation to pay her words any attention. "Father? He sent you..." he left the statement drift off. Lady Alavara stopped her 'prodding' assault on his chest and met his questioning gaze with her somber one.

"He would have come himself if he could afford to do so…" Alavara's brow furrowed in concern, she began wringing her delicate wrists in anxiety. Before Thranduil could voice his concern, Alavara continued with, "The world is changed; we can feel it in the water, we can feel it in the earth, we can smell it in the air."

Thranduil reached out with slightly trembling hands and placed them on Lady Alavara's shoulders bringing her attention back on him. "Thranduil, we fear He is on the move again. There have been whispers of a darkness encroaching on the land. The illness in The GreenWood is only a smidgen compared to the darkness growing across the whole of Arda."

"What does Father need me to do?"

"He has somehow managed to encroach on Valinor. The Valar have been fighting alongside us to drive the darkness back. Lord Oropher has been leading our forces on the front line. We believe another, more dangerous Puppet Master is at work. The Wyrm was not supposed to attack the Lonely Mountain. The Wyrm had been in a deep hibernating slumber for decades until now." Thranduil then finished for her… "The Puppet Master could have driven the Wyrm into action. Divide and Conquer. Attacking on both fronts to distract from the original goal." His eyes widened in realization. Lady Alavara nodded in agreement.

"The Lonely Mountain holds a strategic position to both defend and attack from the North with unlimited access to resources and difficult terrain to navigate through. Lord Oropher has this ongoing theory. By taking the mountain, the darkness gains a considerable advantage over our forces. The only forces strong enough to hold them back was the Greenwood's, Erebor and Dale. By setting the Wyrm against the only defending armies, the darkness eliminates two birds with one stone." Alavara grabs Thranduil's hands and encases them with her own. "Thranduil, you must hold the GreenWood against the darkness and recover the mountain. Something hides itself in Dol Guldur. What it is and its intent, I do not know. Keep your most trusted companions by your side." She hesitates momentarily, eyes glazing over with a milky sheen before clearing. "Be wary of the Dwarven King."

"Lord Thrain? What have you foreseen, Mellon?" Thranduil tensely asked.

"There is another more suited to be the Dwarven King. I believe others as well as yourself have acknowledged this so. Prince Thorin would be a more stable and reasonable King than his Father. Beware the future encounter with him. Thrain hides something foul within himself. Something dangerous." She cautions. Thranduil finds himself nodding minutely processing the vital information, strategizing, planning his future moves.

"Alavara, I…how long have I been in this plane in the in-between? Legolas and the remainder of the gathered armies…we were..." Thranduil tries to remember the last few moments before the shadow consumed him.

Alavara makes a noise of understanding before replying, "Do not worry. Time flows differently here. Where hours pass in this plane of semi-existence, scant seconds pass in the land of the living." Thranduil releases a sigh of relief at the news. "However, the injuries you've sustained have been erased in this plane but upon your return…." She trailed off morosely. Thranduil kept his horror from showing and merely nodded his head ignoring the dread slithering up his spine.

Alavara, knowing him as well as she does, wrapped her arms around him. Engulfing him in a warm, comforting embrace. "You won't be alone in this. After the storm comes a new dawn. You have a beautiful life ahead of you mellon." She confidently proclaimed. He gazed into her hazel green eyes, looking for anything to the contrary. In the back of his mind, he barely acknowledges the shift of a breeze caressing his skin. "Everything's going to be different from now on."

"Tell our Little Greenleaf how proud I am of the remarkable young ellon he has grown into. He has a bright future ahead of him filled with such joy and adventure." Alavara whispered with tears streaming down her face. Thranduil cleaned them away with the pad of his thumbs, confused with her urgent request. That's when he felt it. The shifting breeze, the crunch of leaves and the ash coating across his vulnerable flesh.

"Alavara, will I see you again?" he pleaded.

"My dear mellon-nin, I will always be watching over you and our beloved ionneg. With this parting, never forget my vow to you." Planting her delicate hands, palm forward on his chest above his heart, she plants a lasting kiss on his forehead and cheeks.

"No matter where you are. How far away you are. You could always find me right here." She leans her head against her hands placed over his heart. "I will always watch over you and our ionneg."

Thranduil slowly begins to fade, decomposing piece by piece ready to be plunged into his physical body surrounded in the abyss.

"Go home….A new hope awaits you and our ionneg." Alavara softly pushes Thranduil towards the fading glimmer. The last words he hears are a whispered, "Go home."

It was a peculiar experience for Thranduil. The transition between planes was eerily similar to the sense of having absolutely no control over his own body and actions. Like a puppet with its strings cut off, he ambled towards the voices. Feeling every inch of his body seize with pure agony.

"Uugh" Thranduil immediately starts feeling weakness spreading like a disease across his fëa and hröa, raging aches cripple his bones and joints. He slowly edges closer to the edge of insanity.

As suddenly as the pain began it receded. An outline of a man becomes visible to Thranduil through his pain induced haze. Dim lightening and sounds reach his ears.

"Tergeo. Vulnera Sanentur. Tergeo. Vulnera Sanentur. Tergeo." A strangely accented, rich voice chanted.

A prickling sensation traveled through his scorched skin, the edges of his damaged vision slowly cleared. Loss of sensation tingled through his fingers and 'dead' toes. Expecting pain as the nerves repaired themselves, Thranduil was surprised to feel warmth spread through him leaving a refreshing sensation on the repaired muscle. "Anapneo. Episkey. Vulnera Sanentur. Tergeo. Episkey."

The dim fëa and hröa in his body slowly gained strength and solidified into his very being. His awareness grew as each minute passed by and the silhouetted man continued his libretto. Focusing on his fëa and hröa, Thranduil noticed the silhouetted man's magic form a mist-like substance course through his corroded veins spreading through his system. It was warm, yet cold as if ice-rain from Caradhras blew down and crystallized in his bones.

"Anapneo. Tergeo. Anapneo. Vulnera Sanentur. Anapneo."

There was a deadening silence in the refugee encampment before a shuddering intake of air shook the foundation of all parties gathered. Gasps of amazement and disbelief erupted all around before immediately quieting again. Heaving crouping lungful's of air traveled down his throat. Polluted with ash and death, Thranduil greedily inhaled the stale air.

"Reparifors. Ferula. Reparifors. Ferula. Reparifors. Ferula."

Relieved susurrations traveled through the woods and gathered parties. Whispers and mutters of awe and astonishment met his aching ears. The trees softly hummed a welcoming lullaby to Thranduil. Soft tempos and leaves rustling against the breeze calmed him significantly. Stifling a groan of discomfort, he blinked his eyes completely dissipating the cloudy spots. Gray skies met his disbelieving eyes. A loud gasp escaped him as he realized he could see from both eyes when previously he only had one good eye.

Not wanting to hope for the impossible, with an astounding amount of effort, Thranduil lifted a heavily bandaged and splinted hand to his face. Seeing red, yellow and peach colored flesh beneath. Twirling his fingers and pressing them against his newly healed eye. Testing the nerve and twitch he previously had no sensation in.

"H-Ho…" Thranduil was plagued with a chest rattling whooping cough expelling onyx phlegm on a rag held by a mysterious young-looking man. Wheezing from the effort, Thranduil is momentarily star-struck as he stares into his eyes. If it was somehow possible, the man's eyes held every shade of green the GreenWood canopy held in the coming of the summer solstice. Mesmerizingly bright and transient in its breathtaking beauty. Full of mystery, and alluring depths of an untamable force.

"Adar!" the once desperate Elite warrior cried. The young man swiftly moved away, gazing around before a frown marred his handsome face. Awed Men, Dwarrows and Ellon's bowed in a gesture of deepest gratitude. The tortured cries of the wounded ceased in intensity only to be replaced by relieved moans and blessings. The mysterious young-man slowly edged towards the shadows, meanwhile Thranduil kept his eyes locked on his every move.

Suddenly a scouting patrol yelled frantically in Sindarin. "YRCH! Na arms! YRCH! Na arms! Beri- i aran plural erain or erein!" ("To arms! Orcs! To arms! Orcs! Protect the King!")

'SWOSH.' 'SQUELCH'. 'THUD.'

A black broad-head arrow buried itself deep within the lingual nerve and the upper-lower portion of the unsuspecting Ellon's jaw.

"Zanbaur" ("Elfson") An Orc Captain abroad a filthy blood coated Warg Mother snarled out in Black Speech before spitting upon the body.

Yells broke through the momentary cease fire, then a series of ranged volleys filled the encampment. In a flurry of small close-combat, a group of armored Ellon's grabbed Thranduil and moved along the woods leading the fallen King to safety.

"Afar Angathfark" ("By the forge of my soul!") a small contingent of heavily armored Orcs followed after Thranduil. Legolas and his guard engaged the foul creatures. Black blood bathed the ground immediately followed by guttural squeals and death throes. By the end of the cries, twelve deformed corpses lay beneath their feet. Three Wargs with vacant rider's dragged dead bodies behind them, maws open spilling over with bloodied saliva and severed flesh.

-LINE BREAK-

"Undur Kurv" ("Fat Whore") "Vrasubatburuk ug butharubatgruiuk" ("We will kill all the men and sodomize all the women") growled a viciously, vomit inducing beast as he lustingly gazed in Harry's direction. Exhausted by the unexpected influx of magic, Harry bolted in the opposite direction. Gleeful yowls reached his pounding ears as he ran. It was complete chaos. Harry desperately tried to call up any residual magical essence from his core and the ambient essence around him but kept coming up with mere sparks.

'It took everything I had to heal the wounded. Especially the cyan-eyed one. I brought him back from beyond the veil of life and death. What consequences would follow after that?' he idly wondered before tripping on a defiled Elite warrior corpse. Seizing the opportunity, the closest beast lunged at Harry's prone form. Aiming to embed its blade between his clavicles.

Harry was quick to pry the crude bone-shaft blade from the deformed, ghoulish fingers of the cross-breed between house elf and goblin, above him. Swirling around and butting the edge of the bone-carved handle against the beast's temple, he stumbled on his feet before regaining his balance. Feet shoulder-width apart, hands firmly grasped on the handle Harry wearily held his ground. Holding the bone shaft blade steadily, level with his nose-cheek bone.

"Lul Gijak-Ishi!" (You have flowers in your blood!) The beast snarled, pushing back with his massive bulk.

The tallest of the bunch, consequently the only one carrying a makeshift shield, with an upward stroke slashed at Harry's exposed back.

Harry was tackled by the unarmed one, the beast immediately began wrapping its leathery-ghoulish fingers around his neck. Effectively cutting off his air-supply.

-LINE BREAK-

It was hopeless. Even with Eruchil's efforts in healing the wounded, the enemy's numbers were too great. Our men are running on reserves, the healed are far too weak to properly hold a blade in their defense. Thorin beheaded a Warg in one swift stroke before bellowing in common tongue, "Breakout!" An emergency retreat was executed with precision. "Disengagement!" Thorin followed. Retreating forces avoided the approaching enemy and forestalled any attempts of enemy encirclement. Keeping at the forefront of his mind the importance of having the healed-wounded men escape. "Argh!" he grunted as a blade pierced his tough armor and prickled his skin. He swung backhandedly before slashing downward with his blade. "Center Peel!" Healthy men and Dwarrows helped carry the still-too-weak wounded as regiments of mixed armies continued the battle. Peeling off the formation diagonally while avoiding stacking crucial units in one-spot for too long.

-LINE BREAK-

Writhing underneath it, Harry tried unwrapping the beast's hands from his neck with his wounded arm, while the other slowly plunged the crude-blade onto the exposed neck area of his enemy.

Hiding his crude blade behind his shredded shirt, on his lower back, Harry turned his attentions to the injuries he had sported. Nothing overly serious besides a few scrapes and bruises, gashes on and around his upper torso. If only he still had his potions and healer's bag. After being chased by those pointy-eared fair haired and faced people? Angels? Mythical creatures? Harry bolted, feeling over-whelmed and perhaps a-tad – spooked when they all of a sudden began looking at him as a hero, no worse than a hero, a savior of a kind.

Tearing apart a portion of his ruined shirt, Harry wrapped it across his abdomen tightly, staunching the bleeding. Gripping his long broad-blade again, he set about again, cautiously making his way deeper into the forest.

-LINE BREAK-

Dying throes haunted the retreating allied armies. Fear the ever present companion of many. Running with the quickly vanishing strength and energy, many began to lose hope as they were continuously run down like animals. Howls of Wargs and their Masters followed behind them. The clanking of metal and blade cutting into flesh caused paranoia to be rampant.

Regiments quickly came upon corpses of dead Orcs and wondered who could have killed them if not them. A squad of elves was seen chasing…..a panicked Eruchil? Troubling thoughts made their way into their hearts. 'Why was he running from them? Was he the one to kill the Orcs they encountered a ways ago? Is he leading the enemy away from them?' ran through their minds.

-LINE BREAK-

Harry thought desperately, his abdominal wound has reopened and he was beginning to feel faint from blood loss.

His magical core has been nearly depleted… His stamina and perseverance was running low.

"Cín injured! Please darth-!"(You're injured! Please Wait!)

"Ha na- ú- safe!"(It is not safe!)

Muscles screaming for rest, slowed down by drowsiness and the remnants of adrenaline pumping through his veins, Harry broke through the trees coming upon a large emptied meadow before plummeting head first behind a hidden grove. Heaving pained breaths momentarily, before taking off again.

Suddenly, out of nowhere another blond haired pointy-eared purser landed right in front of Harry.

His surroundings were dimmed, moving in a strange mirage of lights and shadows. Breathing became difficult. Harry immediately noticed the difference between this new arrival with that of his trampling pursuers. This fellow, had an air of nobility about him.

He had long, blond hair almost silver braided back from his handsome face. Hair slightly disheveled as if he had spent his time flying like the wind across falling leaves. Which added to his other-worldly appearance. His eyes framed by thick blonde-almost silver eye lashes brushed gently across his fair, pale face. A faint dust of rose colored his cheeks, a hint of a gash was on his cheek. Obviously fresh, on the right side of his face.

"Im finallui found cin."(I finally found you.)

The regal looking creature before Harry, murmured almost vagrantly. Before Harry could think of anything to escape, the dots in his vision clouded his eyesight, the nausea he held back came back with a vengeance. Consciousness waning, Harry felt a pair of strong arms steady him before a swift period of air-proneness passed and he was carefully placed against a warm chest.

Eyes fluttering closed, Harry's last thought was of the familiarity between the new comer and the poor burnt soul with the same tortured cyan eyes.

"HELP ME" Harry subconsciously pleaded to the ambient magic around and within him. Not knowing what such an act could create.

-LINE BREAK-

Far to the East, beyond sickly woodlands and strange glimmering barriers, lies a stunning authoritarian Kingdom rich in magical essence and never before seen creatures to the whole of Arda.

Deep within cavernous halls and richly furnished rooms, a special head house-elf worked tirelessly. Dressed in scarlet and gold vest, trousers embroidered with Godric's insignia of a roaring lion, Dobby rattled off duties needed to be completed to any awoken house-elf.

"Next, is the kitchen? Oh! Yes, yes! Pantries must be cleaned and restocked. Head Master Potter…" Dobby stopped immediately causing the small group of house elves under his instruction to look up in silent question. Dobby ignored them and focused on the essence surrounding the New-Hogwarts. Bat-like ears twitching every few seconds before a panicked gasp exploded from the tiny being.

"HELP ME" Harry James Potter whispered.

With a thunderous clap Dobby apparated in front of the awoken centaurs. Before he could voice his discovery, Firenze neighed and rose on his hind legs.

-LINE BREAK-

Harry's eyes were closed one moment and in the next it was as if the entire, surrounding area were his eyes and ears. Harry felt every living organism in his vicinity react to his sub-conscious plea. The woods he found himself in, was a sentiment being, living, feeling, full of memory and determination. Every component that made up the woods worked in harmony, for one purpose.

The heart of the woods was its inhabitants. Like any living organism, to fight a virus and any other invading toxin, anti-bodies are released as white-blood cells fight off infection. Harry focused his magical essence through the woods, every plant, tree and leaf.

Responding to his magic the woods themselves began converging in on themselves cutting off the approaching beasts from himself and the retreating Natives. Yowls and grunts of pain reached his ears. Branches, twigs and vines ensnared the persistent pursuers and strung them against thick trunks until they all but became foul-smelling tree sap.

Closing his eyes, Harry followed the vein-like structures of the leaves and woodland floor. Mapping out the surrounding area before pinpointing the still accessible areas for the approaching beasts to past through. Smaller veins from baby saplings alerted Harry of an approaching host mere minutes away, this approaching host was aid. Harry was euphoric, he could sense everything, and he was one with the plant life overflowing with Life. It was addicting.

" ." Harry spluttered as warm blood spewed out of his mouth. The rolling nausea and creeping exhaustion slowly lulled him under its spell. Feeling faint and cold, Harry slowly breathed trying to focus his thoughts and body to the situation on hand. A numbness began to spread around his body. Sluggishness made it difficult for Harry to impede his pursuer's path as efficiently as before.

Ba-duh Ba-duh Ba-duh….Ba-duh…Ba-duh..Ba-duh Ba-duh…

He couldn't see it, but felt it as his heartbeat slowly began to dangerously. The blood-pumping muscle within his chest cavity decreased berating against his rib cage as the sluggish numbness wrapped its traitorous hands around it.

Haggard breathes intermingled with his own. A thundering heartbeat thrummed painfully against his ears. Goosebumps race along his spinal cord as the same panicking dread coursed through Harry's veins. He had to stall the foul beasts. There was nothing to it. The beasts must not get to them. Was Harry more worried over his group's safety or that of the pointy-eared creatures? He couldn't be sure.

Crashing branches and snapping twigs alerted him to the closely approaching beasts gaining ground. 'We need more time. We need to hold them off a little while longer for aid to come.' Harry thought to the woods. The mindless, chaotic stumbling of the beasts against the woods tactics sent an intolerable, searing disgust through his very being. The foulness of the beasts against the pure nature of the Life hidden beneath tree bark, sickened him immensely.

In response to his observation, the living plant life broke through the earth, startling the Natives into a frenzy. Roots exploded as wicked, looping whips, writhing like seizing Nagini's before tearing into enemy flesh and bone. As fast as the roots rupture from the earth, the impending assault grew in intensity and body count. Vines twine and creep from tree branches as make shift nooses wrapping around offending necks and strangling the life out of the foul beasts.

Thundering hooves, woods morphing and writhing upon an earthen tsunami wave parted the glen apart revealing a hoard of mythical creatures.

"By Aule's beard!" A Native gasped in shock before hoarding the surviving warriors together into a manageable defensive line.

In his semi-conscious state Harry was able to spot the cause of all the commotion. Ten centaurs in a mad crazed-haze crashed through the morphing woods. Hoofs catching against unsuspecting Gundabad Orcs. Centaurs dashed down the line milling, kicking, crowding the stragglers enclosing them into a bloody-hooved death. As soon as the thundering hoofing and screeching ended silence ensued. A second group of foul creatures spilled into the bloodied glen.

Dobby snaps his bony fingers together, golden sparks erupt in a shower of fireworks as the tainted beings are disarmed. Growls of protest and anger meet his deed. Charging forward unaware of the righteous anger and loyal bringing, coursing through the three foot tall house-elf with bat like ears, the Gundabad Orcs stumble upon seeing crude-blood stained Orcish weapons levitating in the air before being impaled as ghoulish pincushions. One tainted being tries to sneak up on Firenze, Dobby transfigures an ivy-vine into a golden whip emitting pure golden-white light and aiming the stock of the whip at its deformed face. The ghoulish creature's cruel eyes flash and bares its chipped fangs in challenge. Dobby brandishes the whip and quick as lightning severs the head of the tainted beast. Another immediately takes its place. Firenze, white-blond hair swaying in the air, palomino body reared ; snarled in disgust before swinging his dual-blades at the creature embedding them deeply within its chest.

The sound of stifled breathing catches Firenze's and the herd's attention. Firenze's neck arched as his hooves stomped on the bloodied woodland ground. Dobby held him quietly, bulging tennis-ball sized eyes scanning the crowds for his beloved Master. Just as the crowds quieted the main focus of the magical creatures was on the semi-conscious young man with slick tousled raven locks covered in singed-tattered robes and oozing crimson blood from a severe long gash on his side and abdomen.

Firenze slowed his gait, pausing head held-high and amber eyes wide. A quick glance toward the bleeding Head Master, his heart began beating rapidly in fright. Dobby leaned to the side, stretching his skinny, clothed arm forward, palm facing upward with fingers stretched wide. Golden sparks lightning every few seconds across his fingertips.

"Greetings Funny-eared man! Dobby is head house-elf, and Dobby has come to save Master and his friends!" Dobby said, wide eyes unblinking. A soft, slow tilt of his lips giving the impression of an impish smile.

Dobby watched as the Funny eared man holding his beloved Master opened and closed his mouth. Eyes wide, disbelieving and glancing in various directions before settling on the young-man in his arms. Raising his eyes once more in Dobby's direction before transferring the young man over.

-LINE BREAK-

A/N: Divergence from original ( Poikaer Shrouded in Shadow) after Ch.9-10.

~ SUPPORT THIS STORY BY VOTING, COMMENTING, FAVORITING, & FOLLOWING~