Disclaimer: Harry Potter remains the property of J.K. Rowling and any other publishers or organisations which I don't know, but don't want to anger. The Lord of the Rings belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien. I am not making any profit whatsoever in writing this story. I write it purely for the sake of my own and others enjoyment.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Chapter Nine: Farewell.

Harry assumed that the Fellowship had spent a fair while in Lothlorien, but what really stirred his pot, as he loitered by the hollow tree with his travelling companions on the morning of their imminent departure, was that he could not remember how much specific time had passed. It seemed to him that it was important he should remember. He could even vaguely recall counting the long days under the boughs of the mallorn trees, but now, it seemed to him all a dream. It was very confusing.

Something else that was confusing were the elves that spoke fractured Westron (as Aragorn had told him the primary language in middle earth was called) coming to give them each a few gifts, courtesy of the Lord and Lady. Harry had been too kind, as he looked at their faces – genuinely beaming with happiness at being able to provide the Fellowship with some extra comfort on the impending journey – to tell them he already had a magic cloak, and one that could make him entirely invisibly, rather than one that worked much like a disillusionment charm, as the elven cloaks did.

He had accepted it, adorned it, and found that it fit him perfectly and was quite warm and comfortable. He and most of others had been surprised to learn that the cloaks had been made to each of their exact measurements. Harry didn't bother to ask how the elves had worked that out. He assumed their excellent eyesight was the explanation, and left it at that.

Finally, it was time to leave. Harry positioned himself in the place between Merry and Pippin, which was unfortunate because that put him in front Boromir, and Harry would have liked to observe the man. But it could not be helped because the two hobbits had asked him to walk with them, and he couldn't very well say no without arousing suspicion.

They packed themselves with the elves next to the fountain by their tree, each feeling the sadness that their time in the Golden Wood had come to an end. For a while they had been in peace. The burdens they carried had not niggled at them half as strongly, and new friendships and understandings had formed. Yes, they were each saddened to leave, Harry especially, because it meant he would soon be leaving the Fellowship behind and following Boromir, whom, just last night, had stated his intention that he would like to go back to Minas Tirith. Every person in the Fellowship had looked surprised and confused when Harry had said he wanted to go with him. He had used the excuse of needing to see more of Middle Earth, and that this might be his last chance. The only people who hadn't said anything to that were Galadriel and Celeborn.

As the Fellowship watched the crystal water trickle repeatedly into the little stone fountain, Harry's least favourite person in Middle Earth strolled across the lawn toward them. Harry had time only to give a mental sneer at Haldir before he spotted something on the elf's shoulder that caused him to abandon any nasty thoughts he had been harbouring.

"Hedwig!" he cried delighted, not even bothering to question how chummy she was looking with the elf.

The owl, hearing his voice, abandoned Haldir's arm instantly and flapped her wings until Harry finally caught her and cuddled her gently against his chest. He was surprised by just how much he had missed his owl. She was the only friend he had from home.

Haldir greeted almost everyone with obvious delight. "I have returned from the Northern Fences, and am sent to be your guide again. The Dimrill Dale is full of vapour and clouds of smoke, and the mountains are troubled. There are noises in the deeps of the earth. If any of you had thought of returning northwards to your homes you would not have been able to pass that way."

He stopped before Harry and cocked his head in a curious manner. "Your owl found my post and stayed all of a month with me," he admitted, his lips twisting in what looked like a reluctant smile. "She is a remarkable bird, courageous and bold, and so very intelligent. I now see why you value her. She made an excellent sentry. Even Orophin has been admit to it. She watched over us in the night."

Harry felt all the tension drain out of him after hearing that. He had been sure Haldir would have said something derogatory. It surprised him that he hadn't.

The elf reached over and gently stroked Hedwig's snowy head. "I shall miss her night music."

Harry nodded. "I'll send a letter some time."

Haldir frowned in puzzlement.

"Hedwig is a post owl," Harry explained.

Haldir inclined his head gracefully.

A grudging, temporary truce had just been established.

Haldir cleared his throat. "Come all. Your path now goes south!"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They had walked onwards for ten miles with Haldir leading them through the gentle green slopes of Caras Galadhon, until finally, after passing through a literal wall of grass, they reached their final destination.

Across the river's bank, Harry could see that no more mallorn-trees grew; rather, it seemed that ordinary trees had taken their place. A group of elves were standing in a few white boats that were floating on the water. They, Harry saw with gladness, were packing provisions for the Fellowship's long journey.

Also added to each of the boats was rope. The same sort of rope that the ladder Harry had climbed on his first venture into Lothlorien had been made from, as well as the rope he had crossed the rushing river with. They were lightweight and silvery. The elves explained that no one sane could travel far without a rope, especially one that wasn't of elven make. Then they and Sam got into a short and bewildering discussion on its physical properties.

Harry was strongly reminded of Professor Sprout's Herbology class.

Then, they set off.

Aragorn, Frodo, and Sam were in one boat; Boromir, Merry, and Pippin in another; and in the third were Legolas, Gimli, and Harry. Harry would have liked to share a boat with Pippin and Merry, but since he and the hobbits couldn't hope to know how to paddle or steer the craft, especially with the Silverlode's swift current, they had to make do.

It was as they turned a sharp bend in the river that music was heard, floating gently with the breeze. They saw three large swan-like boats by the river's banks. In the boats were a few paddling elves; Celeborn, decked out in kingly style, a crown of white gold adorning his blonde head; and Galadriel, strumming a harp and singing more beautifully than even Legolas could. On the land behind the boats were yet more elves, standing regally at attention.

Aragorn drew his boat alongside Galadriel's swan. "We have come to bid our last farewell," she said, "and to speed you with blessings from our land."

"Though you have been our guests," said Celeborn, "you have not eaten with us, and we bid you, therefore, to a parting feast, here between the flowing waters that will bear you far from Lorien."

Everyone was very agreeable to this suggestion, and soon found themselves out of the boats and eating a delicious feast of fruit, bread, salad, venison and other meats, and drinking sweet cold water out of large golden jugs. Harry even tipped five jug-fulls of this water into his drinking flask, feeling proud that he actually did something for his own comfort after remembering there was no fresh water in the wilderness. He garnered a couple of strange looks from the elves sitting nearest to him, (most likely wondering where all the water had gone to) but he paid them no attention.

On a second thought, Harry also filled his food pouch with three extra large scoops from every platter in front of him. Though he still had a lot of the food Dumbledore had given him left, it was good to know he had even more now. Besides, if their journey turned out to be really long, it would not be particularly pleasant to hunt for his own food, or to eat Sam's sausages, or to chew the lembas bread day in day out, no matter how good it tasted.

After the feast they gathered on the grass in a circle, with Celeborn and Galadriel seating themselves on two small chairs.

"Before you go," said Galadriel, "I have brought in my ship gifts which the Lord and Lady of the Galadhrim now offer you in memory of Lothlorien." Then she called them each to come forward.

Aragorn received a sheath for his sword and a stone of some sort that he pinned at once to his shirt. Boromir acquired a belt made of gold; Merry and Pippin got belts as well except theirs were way smaller and silvery green in colour with little leaf designs. Harry, gratefully and not a little puzzlingly, accepted his elven sword. Now how to use it?

Legolas was now the delighted owner of a brand new bow and a quiver of arrows, such as the ones the Lothlorien elves used. Sam obtained a box of dirt. Gimli, in surprise to all, asked only for a lock of hair from Galadriel's golden head. She gave him three. (A big deal, apparently) And lastly to Frodo, the elf queen gave . . . something. Harry didn't know what it was, only that it looked like water trapped in a fancy glass phial. But Harry did recognise that it was something important. Something magical.

After that it was really time to leave. The Fellowship boarded their light elven boats and made their way down the river once more, the farewelling tunes of the elves following in their wake.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Four days later they still travelled along the river Anduin, now finding themselves in a virtually treeless land. Harry had tried, a couple of times in the past nights, to talk to Boromir, as per Galadriel's orders, but the man either thought he was daft, or mad, because he developed a look of such petulance after Harry told him the story about Ginny's experience with Tom Riddle's diary, and how the book had started controlling her bit by bit, eventually almost killing her. Harry had not tried to explain more after that, in case he bungled everything to an even worse degree. On the plus side, though, he now had time to think of a less transparent example to use, as he suspected that was why Boromir had gotten so crabby in the first place.

Four more days passed. The surrounding country had changed yet again, this time harbouring a forest of lush trees. That night, Aragorn decided they had to move on instead of waiting for the morning. In Aragorn's boat at the front of the group Sam was appointed as the watchman on the look out for protruding rocks. It was around midnight when Sam finally spotted something. A few very large, sharp somethings that would splinter their boats easily if they paddled in that direction.

Aragorn shouted a warning to them to start paddling to the banks as fast and as hard as they could. It wasn't easy because the current had picked up, and there were only so many paddles to a boat. Frodo, Sam, and Aragorn wouldn't have made it at all if Harry hadn't protego-ed their boat right before it crashed into the rocks.

On the bank, no one had time to feel relief from their near escape of a watery death because a fling of arrows came at them, made harder to see because of the night gloom. One hit Frodo, but bounced back immediately. After that, everyone threw themselves on the ground.

"Yrch!" spat Legolas, to the bewilderment of most of the Fellowship.

"Orcs," Gimli translated.

More arrows flew overhead. Across the bank, on the other side, Harry could make out black shapes scattering here and there. Shrill, guttural cries sounded in the blackness.

Suddenly, Legolas jumped up and grabbed his Lothlorien bow, looking very much like a pale, male veela in the dark. He stood at the edge of the bank, his bow stringed, searching onwards for any mark to shoot at.

A dark gloom overcame them then. Something big and black had fallen over the moon, fending off its light. Harry saw Frodo clutch his chest as if in pain. He himself felt a coldness penetrate his senses and he shivered unconsciously, remembering Gandalf telling him about the Dementor-like wraiths. He tightened his hand over his wand.

"Elbereth Gilthoniel," Legolas sighed, and looked up. Even as he did so, Harry could just make out a large, winged creature. The voices across the river grew louder as it approached.

Swiftly, Legolas positioned his bow at the sky and let loose an arrow. It must have hit the winged creature because there was a harsh croaking scream, and it fell from the air. After that, Harry couldn't hear the orc voices anymore, or see any arrows pierce the night. The coldness had disappeared along with the creature's death.

They weren't attacked anymore that night, or the next day. Harry had seen something unbelievable, though. Something he had not thought a medieval world would have the, to put it bluntly, brains, or technology to build. Or they might not have built it at all, now that he thought about it. They might have carved it out of the rock-face itself.

Two large kings on either side of the wide river had stood tall and proud, their hands positioned in either a "stop, you're not welcome" or a "Ho there friend!" gesture. Aragorn had called it the Argornath, and explained that they were his kin. Harry had been utterly amazed at the grandeur, depth of history, and meaning of such colossal monuments. Even the wizarding world had nothing to compare it to.

Aragorn continued to lead them onwards for another ten miles until they reached the end of the river, coming upon a huge waterfall. By its banks they finally clambered out, lugging their supplies behind them. Harry was certain he wasn't the only one with a saw seat. He even spotted Gimli grouching moodily and massaging his rear-end.

Harry sunk down on the ground next to Pippin, moaning at the shot of pain the action gave him. But he determinedly ignored it, and helped Sam unpack the lunch supplies.

Gimli was still grouching after Sam had a nice meal going, this time at Aragorn. "Oh yes?" he said in a way that made Harry think it wasn't supposed to be interpreted as a question. "We just go through Emyn Muil. An impassable labyrinth of razor sharp rocks. And after that, it gets even better! Festering, stinking marshlands, as far as the eyes can see."

Pippin froze in mid-chew.

"That is our road," said Aragorn with a touch of impatience. "I suggest you get some rest and recover your strength Master Dwarf."

Gimli sputtered. "Recover my . . .? Pohh!" He chucked his axe on the ground.

Pippin and Harry sniggered.

Just then Merry, who had been sent off to collect firewood, came back. He looked around the camp, the bundle of twigs still in his arms. "Where's Frodo?" he asked Aragorn.

Sam sat up from the tree he'd been leaning on, looking around wildly.

By the expression on Aragorn's face as he looked towards the shield that was propped innocently against a tree, Harry did not need to ask whom else had disappeared.

He jumped up, surprising everyone with his hasty action. "Merlin!" he said, and dashed off into the trees, ignoring Aragorn's earnest cry behind him.

After a few long minutes, Harry realised he was running in no particular direction, and that he would never find Frodo and Boromir if he kept this up. If only Hedwig hadn't gone hunting? He could have used her eyes. If only he had waited for Aragorn? The man knew how to track footprints. If only he could . . . he gasped at his stupidity.

Quickly he drew his wand and placed it flat on his palm. "Point me, Boromir."

It spun wildly for a moment until it froze finally, telling him that he was completely south of his quarry. Swearing, Harry wheeled around and full out sprinted across the ground.

He only hoped he was not too late, and that Boromir hadn't managed to catch up to Frodo yet.

As he ran closer to his target, he could hear – the worst sort of luck though it was – the unmistakable sounds of swords clanging. A battle was taking place, with Boromir right in the middle, and Harry was not there to protect him.

He burst into the clearing a couple of seconds later, unable to believe what his eyes were showing him. Orcs, but not orcs. Big orcs. Even uglier than ordinary orcs, ran towards Boromir, who was deflecting jabs from swords that came at him from every direction. Behind him, and safe for the moment, stood Merry and Pippin watching in silent horror.

Boromir raised his horn to his lips and blew.

It was then that Harry decided to act. He knew it was useless to try the sun spell, as these new breed of orcs were obviously not bothered by the sun. He did not know how to use the killing curse, so he decided to try his best defensive curses, the ones that almost always worked, unless the enemy had a thick hide.

And so it was Harry found himself leaping into the fray a few meters away from Boromir throwing off a volley of stupefy's, impediment jinxes, immobilising curses, and expelliarmus's like a madman. Orcs were lifted off their feet and blasted into trees; swords were ripped out of claw-like hands by an invisible force, and flung dangerously about; blackened bodies stiffened in permanent surprise before falling over . . . It was chaos! Utter bizarre chaos that no one, not the orcs, Boromir, Merry, Pippin, and even Harry could work out.

"STAB THEM!" Harry shouted to Merry and Pippin, pointing at the newly unconscious orcs. "THEY AREN'T DEAD! JUST KNOCKED OUT!"

They looked at him as though they had only just realised he was a wizard.

"WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?" he barked at them.

They jumped and nodded, moving quickly with swords raised. They made short work of the passed-out orcs while Harry and Boromir continued to fight, keeping the remaining orcs from reaching the hobbits. The creatures just didn't know what to make of Harry. A few of them, wisely, kept their distance, (not that it helped much, because his spells could cover great distances) and others, stupidly, moved to attack him, only to get a stupefy for their efforts – and a sword in their backs soon after, courtesy of a hobbit.

Harry was so involved in fighting the orcs that he missed seeing the thick, black arrow launch itself straight into Boromir's right arm. He could not, however, miss the hiss of pain that erupted from the Gondorian's mouth, or the clatter of the sword as it fell from his grasp, the hurt in his arm being too great to hold it up, or either it had damaged some nerves.

Harry whirled, scanning his surroundings. There were about a dozen orcs left that weren't dead, but now, after seeing what Harry had done to their brethren, they were loath to approach him or Boromir. Finally, he spotted the offending orc that had shot the arrow. It was just about the ugliest looking thing he had ever seen.

"Get the Halflings!" it shouted. "Kill the boy!"

It had to repeat itself once more as the orcs, still looking warily at Harry, didn't move to follow the order.

They finally did move, just as the head orc strung another arrow. Harry threw off some more impedimenta's, slowing two down, before quickly casting protego at Boromir. He only just made it. The arrow had been shot, but it only pinged harmlessly to the side as it struck the shield charm.

The head orc roared in confused frustration, and Boromir threw Harry a grateful look.

Harry turned back to the battle to discover he'd taken too long in assisting Boromir. He found himself with a face full of smelly orc as one of them ploughed into him, dragging him down, crushing him with its heavy body, causing his wand to go flying.

CRACK!

"AAAAGH!" Harry landed awkwardly on his left ankle, breaking it.

The orc moved wildly above him, smothering him with its weight. Harry could feel its putrid breath on his face, and he struggled, bucking and hitting and clawing, but nothing could get it off.

It cackled unpleasantly. "I'm gunna strangle you and put yer 'ead on a pike!" it told him before wrapping its filthy hands around his neck.

Harry gasped, choking.

Just then the orc stiffened. Guttural, gasping sounds came from its mouth before it keeled over, right on top of Harry. Above him stood a panting Boromir, sword clutched tightly in his left hand. In his right was Harry's wand. He placed a booted foot on the orc's back and pushed. The body flopped beside him, very dead.

"Thanks," Harry rasped.

Boromir inclined his head. "Can you stand?"

Harry nodded. "If I had help – WATCH OUT!"

Boromir performed a sort of ducking pirouette just as Harry snatched his wand. But this time he was too late. A second arrow hit Boromir right in the upper-chest area. The man opened his mouth but no sound came out. He stared at Harry, blinking uncomprehendingly.

Harry looked on in horror. He couldn't have failed! Boromir was going to live!

But how could they have forgotten about the head orc?

The world around Harry watched in utter silence as the creature now ran toward them in seeming triumph. It didn't register to him that all the other orcs were long gone and that Merry and Pippin were missing. It didn't register that Boromir could be dying at this very moment. It didn't register when Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas skidded into the clearing. All Harry focused on was that he had failed, once again, in protecting a friend, and that that friend was going to die – because of him.

It was that thought that snapped him out of his comatose state.

"STUPEFY!" He shouted, putting all the feelings of anger and confusion and loathing he had into this one spell. The orc, now having arrived two feet away from Harry, flew back instantly in a flash of brilliant red light, blasting twenty meters across the clearing before crashing into a mound of hill. It laid still, its neck positioned at an unnatural angle. It was dead.

Harry turned hastily to Boromir just as Aragorn ran over, coming to a halt by the other man's side. Legolas and Gimli kept a few feet away.

"They took the little ones," said Boromir.

"Stay still," Aragorn told him. He gently prodded the arrow shafts that stuck morbidly out of Boromir's body.

"H-he's not going to . . ." Harry couldn't finish the sentence.

Aragorn threw him a cursory glance. "If we can remove the arrows in time, he might yet live."

"It is all right, young wizard," rasped Boromir, his face turning awfully pale. "If I go, at least I know I have sacrificed for a noble cause." His breathing became fractured.

"Legolas!" Aragorn shouted. The elf was there immediately. "Gimli." The dwarf soon followed. "I will need you to hold him down."

They both nodded grimly.

Suddenly, Boromir clutched Aragorn's shoulder. "Where is Frodo?"

Aragorn searched Boromir with an understanding gaze. "I let Frodo go," he whispered.

"Then you did what I could not!"

Aragorn looked down briefly, then moved to grasp the arrows.

"Leave it!" Boromir implored. "It is over. I deserve it!"

Aragorn frowned, not understanding.

"I tried to take the ring from Frodo," Boromir admitted, sobbing. "Forgive me. I did not see."

"No Boromir," Aragorn disagreed. "You fought bravely. You have regained your honour."

Boromir continued to pant horribly, and Harry could not believe what he was witnessing. It seemed strange to him that Boromir might die this way. It seemed too demeaning of a death. If Madam Promfrey were here the arrows would be out already, the wounds completely healed, and the Gondorian resting in a comfortable dreamless sleep. It couldn't end this way. It just couldn't!

Aragorn motioned to Gimli and Legolas with a nod of his head, still clutching Boromir's hand. Gimli slumped down across the man's chest while Legolas sat on his legs.

Aragorn's hand curled around the arrow in Boromir's chest. "I will count thrice," he said.

Boromir nodded wildly.

Aragorn took a deep breath –

"Wait," said Harry. This was inhumane.

Aragorn shook his head, not looking at him. "Harry it must be done, and must be done quickly!"

"I know," Harry agreed. "But there's another way. A less painful way. A better way."

This got their attention.

"What way?"

"Magic. Summoning Charms. Healing Charms. I . . . I just need to look through a book of mine. It'll only take a minute. Is that too long?"

Aragorn gaped, but it was Boromir that answered. "Search," he croaked.

"Right," Harry nodded. Then he went through the motions of unshrinking his trunk, rummaging around until he found Standard Book of Spells: Grade Five, and flipping the pages until he located the healing charm he was searching for.

Harry had never attempted this charm. Mostly because it hadn't been required of him to learn. It was only in the book as a sort of passing reference.

The Knit Charm, (Incantation: Manderus Clapsia) can be used for healing major flesh wounds. However, it is not recommended for OWL Level as the caster requires a considerable amount of concentration on his or her part, due to the fact that an unfocussed mind will result in the wounds opening even more, causing the patient to bleed to death . . .

Well, technically, he had finished his OWLS a few months ago so that wasn't going to happen to him,Harry reasoned.

He needed to clear his mind. Right.

He closed his eyes and determinedly tried to think of nothing.

He didn't know if it had worked or not, but when he opened his eyes again Harry was filled with a familiar determination that made him feel it was possible to accomplish anything.

"I'm ready," he said to Aragorn, crawling in place next to Boromir, and trying to ignore the sharp, twisting pain in his ankle.

"We will continue to hold him," said Legolas.

Gimli grunted his concurrence.

Harry gave them a grateful nod.

"Alright," he breathed. "Alright. It has to be done quickly. Okay. Okay. Accio arrow!"

Boromir jerked violently – Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli holding on – as the shaft whooshed out of his left shoulder in a horrible squelching noise and into Harry's waiting hand. He tossed it away reflexively and pointed his wand at the wound. "Manderus Clapsia," he mumbled in what he hoped sounded like conviction.

A soft blue light shimmered out of his wand, smelling faintly of mint. It enveloped Boromir's shoulder completely. When the light vanished, so did the wound. Harry could have jumped for joy. He had finally preformed proper magic on his first go at a new spell. He wondered, briefly, if this was how Hermione felt every time she stepped into a classroom.

Boromir looked astonished, as though he had thought the magic wouldn't have worked. He flexed his arm experimentally. "Nothing," he breathed. "There is no pain."

Aragorn grinned and clasped Harry's shoulder. "You have done well, young Istar."

Harry nodded thankfully, feeling proud that he had gained Aragorn's approval. Then he made quick work of the other wound, which, fortunately, was not as serious. When Harry had finished, Boromir was almost as good as new, except that he was dead tired and could hardly stand on his feet.

Harry sat in an awkward position at the foot of everyone's legs. A slightly swaying Boromir was being held up between Legolas and Gimli. Aragorn kneeled by Harry, examining his foot.

"Ouch!" he cried when Aragorn prodded a particularly painful area.

"I am sorry." Aragorn stared at him. "Can you not heal yourself using magic?"

Harry felt a trickle of sweat course down the side of his cheek. "No," he said tightly. "I don't know how to mend broken bones."

Aragorn looked grim. "I shall have to set your ankle. It will be painful."

Harry nodded. "Do it."

"Gimli!" Aragorn called.

The dwarf extracted his arm from around Boromir's waste, leaving Legolas with job of keeping him up, and seized hold of Harry's arms, clutching them tightly to his side. "It'll be right, laddie," he gruffed, his eyes surprisingly warm.

Aragorn grasped a gentle hold of Harry's ankle and nodded, silently asking for permission. Harry nodded back. Aragorn executed a sharp twist.

"AAAAAAAAAHHH!" Harry fell back, panting in blinding pain and exhaustion. He didn't even notice when the dwarf released his arms.

"Gimli, hand me Harry's sword."

Harry felt hands on the belt at his waist and heard a scraping noise as his sword was removed from its sheath. "What are you doing?" he asked Aragorn through gritted teeth.

"Your ankle needs support to mend. The sword will be that support," he explained. "I will need cloth."

Aragorn shrugged out of his Lothlorien cloak. Harry saw he was about to cut it up. "No! I have plenty of shirts in my trunk."

Aragorn nodded his thanks and moved to search through Harry's trunk; finally producing one of Dudley's checked elephant shirts. Harry's head flopped back in exhaustion, now almost completely drained. He heard slicing, tearing sounds. Seconds later he felt the cool press of metal against his bare ankle and leg, then the warmth of cloth surrounding it. He hadn't even realised, until then, that Aragorn must have taken his shoe off.

The next second he was being prodded to awareness.

"We must leave Harry," said Aragorn, looming over him. "Could you perform magic on your crate to make it small again?"

Harry nodded, lifted his trembling wand arm, and tapped the trunk. "Substrictus Minimus."

Then he was being lifted in strong arms and carried gently away. He didn't notice where, nor did he really care. He was feeling quite comfortable, despite the pain in his ankle, so comfortable that he, at last, stopped fighting his magical and physical exhaustion and succumbed to a much needed sleep.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Harry awoke just as Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas finished weighting down the elven boats with any unnecessary equipment. Boromir was lying next to him, resting in a light doze. Harry himself did not feel that he had slept for a terribly long time.

Aragorn came to squat in front of him, tossing his hair with a jerk of his head. "Good, you have woken. Here." He handed Harry his miniature trunk, then pointed to Legolas and Gimli. "We three will follow the Uruk-hai that have captured Merry and Pippin. We have decided that you and Boromir shall stay here. He is too worn in body to follow now, and you have a broken limb. You will look after each other. He will see to you once he has rested aplenty. When you are well and able again, you will travel to Minas Tirith with Boromir. This Boromir has agreed to, even though he would have liked to follow in the Uruks path and finish the battle he had started."

Harry just stared, not knowing what to think. "Um," he said finally, after getting an absolutely brilliant idea. "I suppose this'll be a good time to mention I have some Pepper-up Potion stashed in my food pouch."

Aragorn raised his brows. "What?"

"Pepper-up Potion. It gives you energy, even more so than chocolate. It cures minor sicknesses. Warms you up. Makes you want to run and, erm, other stuff." He didn't know quite how to explain himself. "If we give it to Boromir, he can go with you –"

Aragorn shook his head. "What of you, then? No, he cannot –"

"But I don't need to walk or run!" The ranger stared at him as though he were mental. "I mean, I can fly! I have a broom."

Aragorn's expression cleared. Then he grinned, chuckling. "So you do. I had forgotten." He stood up. "We shall go together then. You shall give Boromir the spice potion, and trail after the orcs on your . . . broom." He shook his head in bemusement, his eyes trailing over Harry's form. "A very strange wizard has come upon us. But a very valuable one as well."

"Aragorn," Harry asked after realising something. "Where are Frodo and Sam?"

The man's expression darkened. "They are on the eastern shore. They are left to themselves now."

"What!"

"They follow their own path," Aragorn explained patiently. "They must, else the ring tempts another to its cause."

Harry nodded in sad understanding.

A hoot sounded from the space above them. He and Aragorn looked up to see Hedwig perched in the tree. He smiled sadly, knowing what he had to do. "You never leave me, do you girl. But you're going to have to now."

Harry did not see the curious stare Aragorn gave him.

"Come here girl." He gestured to Hedwig and she fluttered down on the ground next to him. He removed the food pouch from his belt, then enlarged his trunk and pulled out a bottle of ink, one quill, and a few parchments. Aragorn came to squat beside him once more, staring with unabashed interest.

"What do you do, Harry?"

Harry stared hopefully at the ranger, before presenting him with a corner of the parchment, as well as a quill and inkbottle. "I'm going to give Frodo and Sam a barrel's worth of food and drink, as well as a way to communicate with us. Could you write a short letter explaining to them what it's all for, and that Hedwig can be used to deliver post to me, or to whomever they want."

If Aragorn was stunned or amazed by Harry's request, he didn't show it, instead, he set about doing what Harry had asked him to. When Aragorn finished, Harry took back the quill and inkbottle, and the rest of the remaining parchment, and tipped it into the pouch. This, along with Aragorn's letter, he tied to each of Hedwig's legs.

He placed her on his forearm, wondering if he'd every see her again. "Take this to Frodo and Sam, Hedwig. Stay with them always, unless they need to send us a message. Protect them like you would protect me. Okay?"

Hedwig hooted softly and nipped his nose with her beak before she launched off, nearly scraping Legolas's head as she passed the riverbank, (the elf ducked in the last second). Gimli was chuckling.

"That was a very noble thing you did, Harry," said Aragorn quietly.

"Yea," Harry agreed.

Aragorn stood once more. "Come, we must wake Boromir and prepare."

Twenty minutes later they were all ready to leave, Boromir having just drunk the Pepper-up Potion and proclaiming he had never felt so hearty in his life. Harry still sat, palming his Firebolt, which lay across his lap. It was time to go.

Aragorn and Gimli grasped each of his arms and hefted him up so that he stood awkwardly on one leg. Harry positioned his broom so that it rested under his bottom before nodding at them to let him go.

Even Legolas could not contain his amazement at finally seeing for himself a broomstick that hovered waist-height in the air.

"Ready when you are," Harry grinned cheekily before SWOOSH!

The Firebolt had the capability to accelerate at 110 miles per hour. It was likely that his companions had never seen anything go that fast, and they jumped back in shocked surprise as he suddenly launched himself almost vertically into the air. In a few seconds, Harry could not even make them out anymore.

He peered down at the landscape. He was really too far up to see anything, let alone a party of ant-like orcs that must have travelled some way by now.

He would have to go back down.

He steered gently. He would have preferred to travel in a Wronski Feint, but he didn't think his ankle could take the pressure of the wind.

Harry lowered the broom until he just skimmed the topmost branches of the trees. Some meters below him stood Aragorn, Gimli, Legolas, and Boromir.

"Most impressive lad!" called Gimli. "Now we have an advantage over the Uruk-Hai." The rest murmured in agreement.

"Indeed, you can scout ahead. Now, let us hunt some orc!" Aragorn cried before running up the slope.

The rest, including Harry, followed him.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A/N: Phew! They are finally out of Lothlorien!

What do you think?

REVIEW!