Of Eyebrows and Wizards
Harry hated battlefields. Once the fighting was over they became deathly boring. There was one small mercy this time, no-one but the very easily recognised 'bad guys' had died. Harry had been hopeful that he might have been able to convince them to bugger off rather than fight and he'd been having some luck too.
Unfortunately it wasn't to be and so now there was a large field covered in entrails to deal with. Some enterprising dwarves had clad themselves in heavy leather gear and were combing through the mess in search of anything of value while the few remaining Elves tried very hard to pretend it didn't exist.
That resulted in them looking at the sky a lot as the Goblins had been tracked everywhere by the Dwarves. Red footprints criss-crossed the entire battlefield.
Harry was standing alone atop one of the hills near the edge of the field. Most of the Elves and Dwarves were too scared to come near him and the ones who weren't scared appeared to merely be terminally stupid. Even Tauriel had left for a time, claiming that she was going to be quite some time in her attempt to wash off the smell of Goblin. She'd been utterly adamant that Harry was not to follow her. Given the circumstances Harry had acquiesced.
As Harry looked down on the battlefield, more thoughtful than he'd been in some time he noticed a grey figure picking his way slowly towards him. Eventually the figure resolved into the robed and be-hatted person of Gandalf the Grey.
"So you are the mysterious Elfling," said the worryingly familiar old man without preamble. "Word came to the White Council of your presence in the Halls of the Elvenking. Bronduíst Amoron, they said. An unusual name, to be sure."
In truth Harry hadn't quite been paying attention to the Wizard's words. 'Mithrandir' had of course been mentioned a number of times by the Elves of Mirkwood and Harry had paid close attention to the description of one of the very few magic users in Middle-earth. His attention was now focussed on the one aspect of the man that the Elves had not described in excruciating detail.
The eyebrows. They were true wonders and had more than earned the name supercilium. If he'd been a more poetic Man, or Elf, Harry would surely have been put in mind of mating voles. The British Wizarding world had long appreciated a good set of eyebrows. Indeed, Elphias Doge had long been the undisputed champion of brow-foliage within the UK. He was not a patch on Gandalf the Grey.
As the man spoke, though, something broke through Harry's awe.
Harry was not one to be often left speechless but in this case he had to bow to the inevitable. The perfectly smooth pale skin of his face went slack as his jaw dropped.
It was obvious that Gandalf was quite happy to wait for Harry to respond and the silence stretched out for long moments. The man simply stared at Harry while his twin crowning glories danced in amusement. It was obvious the man was a Dumbledore wannabe.
Wait. What had he just said? Bronduíst Amoron?
"Blondie's a moron?" Harry finally managed to choke out.
"Oh, is that how you pronounce it?" said Gandalf jovially. "We had been unsure. Does it have a meaning in your own tongue?"
Harry had the distinct impression that Gandalf knew exactly what it meant. "Oh, yes. I believe it means something similar to 'It's none of your business'."
Gandalf chuckled quietly as he begun to big around in his impossible voluminous grey robes. "Ah! Of course, my understanding of English has never been the best, I will admit. Dirty, guttural language I fear."
It took Harry a moment to realise that, for the first time since his arrival he was speaking to someone who could actually understand English. His cynical Auror's mind leapt straight passed that happy knowledge to a much darker assumption.
"Was it you that brought me here?" he nearly growled, though not through lack of effort. In the back of his mind he added 'find a spell to give me a menacing voice' to the nebulous list of things to be done at some point. At the same time he shifted his stance just slightly to ensure he was ready for whatever it was that was coming out of those robes.
"Not at all dear boy," said Gandalf without even looking up from his search. "Ah, here it is!"
Out of the robe came a large pouch out of which a length of thin wood protruded. Harry's reactions got the better of him in that moment and immediately the pouch flew into his outstretched hand with a dull whump.
"I say!" said Gandalf in surprise. "If you'd wished for a smoke my lad you need only ask. I believe I have a spare pipe on my person somewhere."
Harry looked down at his prize and it was indeed a pipe, and what looked like tobacco. After poking suspiciously at the pipe for a moment he handed both the pouch and the pipe back silently.
"Yes, perhaps it's for the best if you don't," admitted Gandalf as he took both without batting an eyelid. "One of your age would likely be ill-served by the smoke."
"Now, as I was saying…" he paused and furrowed his impressive brow. "Hmm… What was I saying?"
"About bringing me here?" said Harry tightly.
"Oh, yes. Of course. Not a clue my boy," he said as if imparting news of a birth to the family. "Your presence has a purpose, that no-one can doubt but it is certainly not clear to me, or anyone else among the Wise."
"But you speak English?" Harry persisted. "You know where I come from?"
"Well certainly! I would not be much of a Wizard if I did not." He harrumphed. "But it will not aid you in returning there. That way was closed long ago.
"Besides, as I understand it you have been rather enjoying your time here, have you not?"
He managed to make that lightly worded question sound like a reprimand, which would no doubt have worried Harry if he was still a school child. "Well, you know. It's a bit like Belgium. Nice to visit, but I wouldn't want to live here."
"Perhaps if you endeavoured not to cover the landscape in Goblin entrails and aggravated Dwarves perhaps it would be more amenable?" Gandalf suggested amicably.
Harry shrugged. "I was trying to spruce the place up a bit, it's all so drab."
"So you felt that perhaps the hills could use a very literal splash of colour?" asked Gandalf in seemingly genuine interest.
"Look, fine, I got a bit carried away," Harry admitted finally. "Tauriel already gave me the lecture, thanks. Can we go back to how I can get home?"
There was the merest suggestion of a frown on Gandalf's face for a moment but it was soon lost beneath his huge furrowed brow. "Lamentably I do not believe you can, indeed I would suggest that your home is now here."
"No, that's not how it works," Harry gamely tried to explain. "Home is where I keep my Firewhiskey. There's no Firewhiskey here, ergo, it's not home."
"Such a sad position," Gandalf sympathised and it looked to be mostly sincere. "To be sundered from you home. But I'm sure you will be permitted to return thence should you complete the task before you."
"What task!" Harry shouted, his temper getting the better of him at last.
"Perhaps purpose is more the correct term," said Gandalf thoughtfully and giving no suggestion that Harry's outburst had in any way perturbed him. "But I do not know, either way."
Harry resisted the urge to grind his teeth in frustration. "Then just why did you come to talk to me?"
"Forgive an old man his curiosity my boy," said Gandalf "I merely wished to meet the source of the spreading earthquake in these lands before the grounds opened up to consume it."
Harry blinked. "You think I'm going to die? Really?"
"Perhaps, but I think it more likely that your efforts to avoid dying will take up much more of your time. But now, I must go. There is much argument in Erebor over whether they should ever open the doors again. It seems they're concerned that you might try to re-enter." The eyebrows wiggled in amusement.
Yes, definitely a Dumbledore wannabe. Although Harry had to give it to the man, his eyebrow game was much stronger than Dumbledore's twinkly eyes thing. Harry sighed and rubbed at his face tiredly. This was probably how other people felt after talking to him. He needed to find Legolas and let off some steam.
A/N: I don't usually put author's notes on this story but just this once I shall. Because I put a whole ton of effort into 'Bronduíst Amoron' and I'll be damned if I'll see it go to waste.
Sindarin etymology of the name:
Bronad - to last or survive.
dû - a shadow or twilight.
Ist - knowledge.
Am - upwards or above.
Orn - tree.
So, by my (rather faulty) reckoning, Harry gave his name as 'Endures through shadow with knowledge, rising above the trees'.
Anyway, I'm mostly back now (after moving house and getting a new job) so you can expect to see content for my other stories trickling out over the next few weeks.
