Chapter Eight: Rivendell: Training for the Wild Part 1
Disclaimer: HP belongs to J.K. Rowling, LOTR belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien, any familiar dialogue belongs to Peter Jackson for the films and J.R.R. Tolkien for the books. The plot is my own. My love. My precious. Any additional characters not in the canons are mine.
oOoOo
Rivendell was a sight to behold with many places to explore and look upon in wonderment. While he walked, Draco believed he stumbled into a beautiful dream. At any moment, he would wake and find himself still in the service of Voldemort. A slave in his Master's fortress, following orders blindly. Forced to take the lives of those deemed unworthy to live in a world where Voldemort was King. It was enough to make anyone shudder, even a Malfoy, which is exactly what he did when he thought about it.
He walked through the radiant gardens, looking at the rustic charms of the buildings, and he pinched himself. When he felt the small amount of pain, he sighed. 'Just a fluke,' he muttered and continued. He reached an area filled with the most beautiful trees and flowers he had ever seen. In the distance, there was a waterfall. 'I know I'm awake, but it feels like I'm in a dream,' he muttered to himself, making his way to the waterfall. He smirked when he looked at it, leaning on the wall in front of him. 'Beautiful. Very visually dynamic. I chose my stage well,' he said, pushing off the wall. He walked along a path made from tiny multi-coloured pebbles and stopped to look down at them. 'Now, isn't that impressive,' he mumbled, kneeling down and picking up a green-tinted stone to examine it. 'What a nice souvenir,' he said, placing it into his pocket and continuing down the path.
He walked under a bridge and up some stone steps, taking him to the House of Elrond. Draco stared at the majestic building in awe, scratching his head while he did. 'I should have my head examined again,' he whispered, letting his hand fall to his side. 'My imagination must be on the fritz,' he muttered, shaking his head. He moved on across a bridge, continuing his exploration of Rivendell.
oOoOo
That night, the party deemed the Fellowship of the Ring, by Elrond, gathered around a bonfire set by the Elves of Rivendell. Elrond stood, gaining the attention of all those there. They regarded him with curiosity, waiting for him to speak. 'I will give you a two-month deadline to prepare yourselves for what is to come outside these walls. Training in the ways of Archery or Swordsmanship would be a good place to begin. Of your companions, Boromir and Aragorn are trained in the art of the sword, whereas Legolas knows all there is to know about Archery. Make your decision wisely for which profession you will choose.' The last part was mainly directed at the Hobbits, Harry, Hermione, and Draco.
'I choose the banjo!' Draco shouted out without thinking. Everyone chuckled at this except Legolas, who didn't smile at anything, and Boromir, who hated everyone in the Fellowship for some reason or another.
Elrond rolled his eyes, looking at Draco. 'It is only out of morbid interest I am allowing this freak show to continue,' he said to him. The blonde smirked, tilting his head to one side and saluted the Elf Lord who held back a grin of his own at the young man's antics. Elrond bid them good night, leaving the Fellowship to plan out their two months.
Aragorn stood, slowly pacing around the circle of the bonfire. 'Sword-fighting is not for the faint-hearted,' Aragorn told them. He took out his sword which gleamed in the firelight, making it look lethal. 'This is a custom made Elven sword, embalmed with their magic,' he said, replacing the sword in its sheath on the belt at his waist. 'Frodo's sword is like my own. Instead of power, the Elves embalmed the knowledge to know if the wielder is in danger, or if there is danger in the surrounding area,' Aragorn explained.
Boromir stood, taking out his sword, and looked at Aragorn. 'You were trained by Rangers, Aragorn. A master swordsman trained me in all types of sword-fighting,' he said proudly.
Harry looked between them, a little confused. 'There are different kinds of sword-fighting?' he asked curiously.
Aragorn turned to him. 'Yes. There are those who sword-fight in duels. Others who do it for their amusement. Those who fight for survival, and others who will fight to protect their loved ones,' he answered. 'But, if you believe Archery is more suitable to you, Legolas is the Elf to ask,' he added.
Harry thought about it for a moment, pulling out the Gryffindor sword wrapped in the Emerald cloth. He fingered the velvety cloth and unwrapped it, revealing the Goblin-made sword in all its splendour. Harry grasped the metal, ruby adorned grip, pointing it upwards, the tip of the blade suspended in the air. He brought it down in a swishing movement, the steel singing with every movement. His companions watched with interest, in awe of the beautiful sword.
From the other side of the bonfire, Gandalf watched Harry with pride while he wielded the Gryffindor sword. He knew it was most certainly made for him. Gandalf stood, looking around at his companions before focussing his gaze back to Harry. 'I always knew the Sword of Gryffindor would choose you as its Master, Harry,' he told him with a smile. Harry turned to look at him curiously, along with the rest of the members of the Fellowship. 'As I said before, only a true Gryffindor, with the heart of a lion, can wield his sword. Think of the sword as your first wand. Ollivander told you when you received your wand; "the wand chooses the wizard or witch it deems to be its rightful master". The same goes for the sword. There are many Gryffindor's who were, likely, true to their House. I am sure you are curious out of them all, the sword would choose you. All I can tell you is it has something to do with your heritage, Harry. It seems Godric Gryffindor made you the rightful Heir to his sword,' Gandalf concluded, smiling at him.
Harry frowned in confusion. 'How is that possible? Gryffindor wouldn't have known who I am. He lived a thousand years ago from our time, so there has to be some mistake,' Harry said, shaking his head in disbelief. He studied the sword hanging limply in his hand.
'This I can answer,' Gandalf told him. Harry snapped his attention back up to the old man. 'Do you remember the unique skills gifted to the four Founders of Hogwarts?' he asked Harry.
'Slytherin could talk to snakes. Ravenclaw was a walking encyclopaedia. Gryffindor possessed a loyalty and strength unmatched by anyone. Hufflepuff had the healing expertise,' Harry answered, still confused and wondering what it to do with Godric knowing who he is.
'I see you were listening in History of Magic, while others, besides Miss Granger, of course, slept in the class. The thing is, Harry, Helga Hufflepuff possesses another ability only the other three Founders know of,' he told him.
'How do you know what it is then, Gandalf?' Draco asked from where he perched between Gimli and Hermione.
Gandalf smiled at the Slytherin. 'I know many things, not to mention I have met and talked with three of the Founders myself. Helga can see the future and hear Prophecies spoken to her. This is the other gift she possesses, Harry. Helga is a Seer, and she is also an important person in this age. She saw you, and Gryffindor saw you through her. He believes you are the only one capable of handling his sword, feeling the power within it and grasping it. He told me himself,' he told them, smiling at the evident shock on their features.
'They're alive and here in Middle-Earth!?' Draco asked in shock.
'Of course, they are,' Gandalf answered like this should be obvious. 'All except for Salazar who we believe was killed by a Mûmakil, or, as the Hobbits would call them, an Oliphaunt. They are large looking elephants if it helps.' Harry, Hermione, and Draco nodded in understanding. The three of them were trying to figure out what the hell a Mûmakil was. Gandalf must have picked up on their confusion and explained. 'They go by different aliases now due to the trauma of what they endured during the famous argument at Hogwarts in regards to the Chamber of Secrets Slytherin built. They all felt starting over was a good choice. They keep in touch, and they are all still the best of friends,' Gandalf explained.
'Where are they now?' Gimli asked, folding his arms on his knees and eyeing Gandalf with curiosity.
'They are back among their people,' Gandalf answered. The only two by the bonfire who weren't confused were Gandalf and Legolas, who was glancing around at his companions. His eyes locked on Hermione's for a moment before he looked away towards the arch of trees they entered the small clearing from. Gandalf sighed and explained, 'Rowena Ravenclaw and Helga Hufflepuff are of the Elven folk. Hence the reason they're still alive. Salazar Slytherin possessed the long life granted to the Chieftains of the Dúnedain. Godric Gryffindor is of one of the races I am from, known as Ainur. He is also from the same Order as me, the Istari. Rowena and Helga are both of two different types of Elves though. Helga is one of those who dwell in Lothlórien, and her heritage is of the Noldor and the Teleri. She is known as Galadriel, the Lady of Light. Rowena is-'
'My 'ɛmɛl,' Legolas stated, cutting Gandalf off, and making everyone turn to look at him.
'Your "emel"?' Draco asked, turning to look at the Elf in curiosity.
Gandalf was the one who answered, ''ɛmɛl means "Mother" in Sindarin, which is the language used by Legolas' kin. She goes by the name Kerishiera now. She is both beautiful and wise amongst the Elves of Mirkwood and is respected as a Mother of all Elves. She has been around for a long time and was one of the first Elves of Middle-Earth,' Gandalf told them. Legolas glanced around at them, his face set in stone, which softened a little when his eyes rested on Hermione.
'Rowena Ravenclaw is your Mother?' Hermione asked, looking back at him, her eyes wide with wonderment. Legolas nodded, looking away and scanning the surrounding trees again.
Everyone was silent for a while, thinking about different things and wondering about the Founders. Harry looked up at Gandalf. 'What's become of Gryffindor? You told us he is part of your Order and the same race as you. Does he have an alias as well or did he keep his name?' Harry asked him. Everyone turned to Gandalf in interest, except Legolas who seemed to know this anyway.
'His name is Radagast the Brown now. He is a powerful wizard who has an absolute command over the Great Eagles of Middle-Earth. His familiar is a Great Eagle named Gwaihir, the same Eagle who saved me from the clutches of Saruman. If he is not busy in his affairs, I will arrange a meeting. I wouldn't be too hopeful, though, for Radagast is always busy,' Gandalf answered, sitting back down by the fire.
'Just out of curiosity, are you a special person in disguise as well? It seems to be a common thing in this time,' Draco asked, looking at Gandalf curiously.
Gandalf smiled. 'I have two aliases. Albus Dumbledore and Gandalf the Grey,' he answered, smiling at the blonde Slytherin.
'Okay, so who are you then?' he asked.
'I will reveal all in due time, Mr Malfoy,' he told him, which left everyone wondering who Gandalf was.
The Fellowship sat in companionable silence until it was much later and the bonfire had dimmed and diminished. Only when it was embers glowing did the first person leave, which happened to be Boromir much to everyone's relief. The next to go were the Hobbits, Aragorn, and Gimli. Sam was trying and failing, to keep his eyes open while Frodo was staring into the fire tiredly. Merry and Pippin had fallen asleep back to back, snoring away peacefully. Gimli and Aragorn carried the two sleeping Hobbits away, followed by Frodo and Sam, all wishing them a good night. Gandalf left next, and Harry followed him explaining to Draco and Hermione he wanted to ask him some things.
It was only Draco, Hermione, and Legolas left in the clearing now. The atmosphere didn't feel as comfortable as it did before with everyone sitting in the circle. 'I wonder what he's thinking about?' Hermione whispered, looking over at Legolas. He was still standing in the shadows like he was guarding the area. She had a feeling he would be the last to leave the clearing.
'How would I know, I'm not Merlin,' Draco answered, playing with some grass next to his foot. 'Who is he, anyway?' Draco asked her, looking over at the Elf in question.
'Do you ever listen to anything you're told. We all had introductions earlier in the night. His name is Legolas Greenleaf or Thranduilion, and he is the Prince of Mirkwood, which is a community of Elves. His name is pronounced like 'Lɛɡɔlas in Sindarin, which isn't much different anyway. His mother is Rowena Ravenclaw, and his Father is the Elf-King of Mirkwood, Thranduil. He's quiet and keeps to himself, but I like him. He seems pleasant enough,' Hermione explained.
Draco looked at her in disbelief. 'I did not need to know his life story,' he said shaking his head. 'All I asked for was his name,' he added.
'Well, I'm sorry o' mighty Prince of Slytherin. You asked, and I provided, quit complaining,' Hermione answered, and silence followed this statement. Hermione looked at him in surprise when the witty Draco Malfoy had no retort for what she said. She frowned at him. 'What, no smart-arse come back?' she asked, smirking at him. 'Is the cunning snake losing his hiss?' she asked mockingly.
Draco turned to her, shocked at himself for not retorting. 'Can we try that again?' he asked, his voice almost panicked.
'Sure, what should I say?' she asked.
'I don't care,' he answered.
'You make me want to puke,' she said, snapping her fingers.
'You make me think somebody already did,' Draco retorted, standing up from his seat doing a small victory dance. Hermione burst into laughter, while he sat back down again. 'Oh yeah, the cunning snake is back!' he said, snapping his fingers, and causing Hermione to laugh even more.
After a while of just talking and laughing, Draco got up and turned to her. 'Right love, I'm going to get some beauty sleep. See you the morrow, when we will begin our fantastic training in the arts of the fight,' he said in a posh accent, making her laugh. He walked away and got to the archway of the clearing before turning back to her. 'Who am I training with again?' he asked her, frowning and rubbing his arm to warm up a little.
Hermione tried and failed to keep the smirk from appearing. 'Sir Boromir, the Arrogant," she answered, and Draco groaned. He waved half-heartedly, walking away through the trees towards the House of Elrond. In the shadows, Legolas' lips twitched at what Hermione said.
oOoOo
'Concentrate on the target! Visualise an enemy who can slay you without effort if you become unfocused,' Aragorn said to Harry, pointing to the target the Elves used for their training. Aragorn took up training Harry, Frodo, and Sam. Frodo and Sam were both using one target between them for their training because the targets were bigger than them.
'Okay,' Harry nodded, looking back at his target. He held the Gryffindor sword in a ready position and got into the stance Aragorn showed him. He thought of the Basilisk he fought in his second year, knowing if he looked it in the eye it would have killed him. He knew if he got distracted at all when the Basilisk was trying to strike him, he would have become the huge snake's dinner. He concentrated on the target, shutting out the banter around him, and envisioned the Basilisk was in front of him again. He walked forward briskly, swinging his sword around, and struck the target. It would be a critical blow to something living.
'Very good, Master Potter,' Aragorn said, clapping a hand on his shoulder, and smiling at his young protégé.
Harry smiled back, about to go back into his stance when Draco stumbled into the training area. He rubbed his face and eyes to get away the tiredness. He then slapped himself, rolling his eyes around in an attempt to wake himself up a bit more, which failed. He looked at everyone in turn. 'Whazzahapeznin?' he asked while yawning, causing everyone to stare at him in confusion.
'Can you say that again in English, or is it too difficult for you?' Harry asked him.
Draco sighed, turning to him. 'I said: "Whazzahapeznin". It's the new slang for "what's happening guys?"' he answered, smirking at him.
'Nice, Malfoy. You're grasp of our language completely astounds me,' Hermione stated, shaking her head. She sat down on the well with a book she received from Lady Arwen, Elrond's daughter.
Draco watched her for a moment, walking over to sit next to her, and placed his arm around her which annoyed her. 'Why are you not training with the others, love?' he asked, pulling her closer to him.
Hermione shrugged him off, turning to shout at him for daring to touch her. Deciding to hold her tongue, she looked away for a moment, then turned her gaze back him. 'To be honest, I don't like sword fighting. If I were to use any blade, it would be daggers,' she answered, turning to watch Frodo striking the target.
Draco looked around at everyone, his eyes stopping on Legolas who was examining his bow and his arrows to one side. He was keeping an eye on Boromir who was showing Merry and Pippin how to use a sword. Draco noticed at his sides, attached to his belt, were two small looking swords. Draco smiled, Legolas had daggers. He turned his attention back to Hermione. 'Okay, I've got it,' he said cryptically.
'Wow, you finally figured out you were born stupid, and the whole world is laughing at you and not with you?' Hermione asked, faking a gasp and clapping her hands in emphasis for her sarcasm.
Draco eyed her for a moment. 'See, I'm kind enough to look around and figure out what type of training would apply to you, and all you can do is insult my intelligence,' he stated, narrowing his eyes at her before looking away.
Hermione chuckled. 'Okay, what did you "figure out"?' she asked.
'You know what? I don't think I should tell you,' he told her, standing to walk away.
Hermione chuckled and grabbed his arm. 'No, seriously, what have you "figured out"?' she asked him.
Draco turned back to her, taking her hand from his arm. He moved, standing right next to her and looked into her confused and terrified eyes. 'I've figured out... well... it's difficult to say, but... Granger, I uh... I love you,' he stated sarcastically, and Hermione doubled over in laughter. He chuckled, watching her clutch her chest. 'Don't die of laughter, please,' he said, trying to be serious, but he couldn't help laughing. 'Now is not the right time to kill you with laughter. I'll get captured, chained, and castrated for my efforts,' he stated, looking around at the Elves guarding Rivendell. He turned back to Hermione when it seemed she couldn't stop laughing.
'I... can't... breathe!' she gasped, clutching her chest again and trying to halt the laughter from escaping again. 'Okay,' she said, taking deep breaths. Draco noticed she wouldn't look at him and he smirked, thinking she would laugh again if she did.
'Are you okay now?' he asked, and she nodded, but still didn't look at him. He let go of her hand which he still was still holding and sat down next to her again. 'Okay, to be serious now, the Elf has two daggers hanging at his waist,' he told her, pointing to where Legolas was standing, still examining his bow. Draco turned back to her, only to find her staring in the Elf's direction. With a sigh, he snapped his fingers right in her face. 'Have I got your attention?' he asked her, and she nodded. 'I think Archery is your type of profession. It would be good for you to learn,' he told her quietly, but seriously.
Hermione stared at him in shock. 'Do you think so?' she asked him, looking back to where the Elf was.
Draco chuckled. 'No, but it wouldn't hurt to try,' he answered, and she slapped his arm. They fought playfully until Boromir walked over, standing in front of them scoffing. Draco looked up at him from where he had Hermione in a headlock. 'Something I can help you with?' he asked as politely as he could considering he was struggling to keep Hermione from getting away and scratching him to death.
'I am to teach you how to fight with a sword. Can you follow me?' Boromir asked politely to Draco's shock. Such shock he let go of Hermione who glared at him before trying to attack him again. He placed his hand on her forehead so she couldn't reach him.
'I am aware, and yes I'll follow you in 2.4 seconds after I deal with Granger here,' Draco answered.
'Very well,' Boromir answered, walking over to where the Elves set out targets for him to train Merry, Pippin, and Draco.
oOoOo
'Your swordsmanship is amateur at best,' Boromir told Draco, watching him try and fail at hitting the target.
'Well, I'm sorry o' Master of the sword, but I've never practised so get off my case!' Draco said irritably, trying again, and hitting the target a little harder.
'Why don't you try thinking of the target as your worst enemy, or someone who has done something to you in the past you did not like? It may help,' Boromir suggested, trying to be kind to the boy he had taken a strong disliking to.
Draco smirked at these words. He would never tell Harry and Hermione this, but he imagined the target was Ron Weasley. He raised his sword, bringing forth the dormant anger he felt at the red-head, striking the target hard.
For hours, Boromir trained him this way until Draco could hardly even lift the sword in his hands for the tiredness. 'Am I ever going to get a break? You're killing me over here, while Potter lounges about like he's the King of the world!' he stated, looking over to where Harry was sitting on the grass talking to Hermione.
'Not until you can control your rage while attacking,' Boromir said. 'Now, continue!' he pointed at the target, walking over to Merry and Pippin who weren't fairing any better than Draco himself.
'And you wonder why we don't like you,' Draco said, hitting the target again.
Boromir spun on his heel in anger. 'I have tried to be civil to you, boy, but you continue to rile me. I am beyond willing to tolerate your attitude!' he shouted, causing everyone to look up. 'Why do you insist on speaking to me with such disrespect and anger?' he asked him, more quietly.
Draco stared back. 'Perhaps kicking your ass will brighten my spirits?' he stated and, in the background, he heard the quiet chuckles of the others. Boromir scoffed, walking away with anger written all over his face. Draco sighed, dropping his sword, and collapsing on the ground in exhaustion.
