A/N: Hello all! Sorry for the wait. I actually forgot about this story for a bit.

To KeiGinya, thanks for your delightfully long review, it was the one that reminded me that there were readers waiting for more. I'm glad you understand without explanation why it's so easy for Harry to be taken for a boy and I appreciate you're well thought-out response to the pairing question.

As for why I haven't mentioned any of Harry's reactions to being taken for a boy, it's because she doesn't know. Harry has no idea that no one but Galadriel knows that she's a girl, and if anyone asks how she could've missed it with the Fellowship addressing her with male pronouns, it was only after meeting Galadriel that she gained a full comprehension of Westron.

When you're learning a new language — and even when you're fluent in that new language — if you're not paying direct attention to what someone's saying, you're not going to know what's being said. And it's not like any of them have said 'boy' when referencing her in front of her. Gimli has called her 'boyo' before, but it's easily over-looked when the rest of the statement is more important. And don't we address girls as 'bro' and 'dude' now? Why not boyo as well? Really, even if she did know, I don't see why it has to make an impact on her — but that could be my pan/asexuality speaking. I don't understand letting your gender define you.

Thank you to Bedlamite for giving me the correct origin of 'the look' from a few chapters back. It is indeed from Curse of the Blue Tattoo of the Bloody Jack series. If you want the dubious prize of being an OC later in the story, feel free to PM me your character outline.

The beginning will be almost straight from the original fic, so I don't want any reviews telling me about it.

"We're lost Mr Frodo, and make no mistake," grouched Sam, staring at the endless expanse of grey, dreary, tumble-turvy rocks that made up Emyn Muil. "Everythin's lookin' the same, and there's a foul stench about!"

He and Frodo stood shoulder to shoulder, their little shoulders hunched in dejection, made to look even more dejected by the heavy packs on their backs. Hedwig, their wizard friend's owl, was perched stiffly on one of the many large boulders, her yellow eyes regarding them with a curious kind of pity. It had been three days since Frodo and Sam had left the Fellowship, three days in which they had traveled and climbed — and occasionally slipped — up knots of gigantic rock and barren slopes of stone. They had laboured under their heavy packs and under the foul stench that seemed as if it oozed from the very ground on which they walked.

Many times they had become lost — they were, in fact, still lost, but that hadn't really stopped them from continuing; even now when they both realised they had gone around in the same circle for perhaps the third time that day.

"I know," Frodo now said in agreement with his friend's previous conclusion. "I'm sorry, Sam, but there's not much we can do now about it. Why don't we rest and try to get our bearings?" he suggested before doing just that. Sam hunkered down next to him. "What food have we got?"

"Let's see then," said Sam, rummaging around in his pack until he pulled out a small, brown sack. "It'll be a surprise again, no doubt. There's no end to this thing of Mr Harry's."

"It's rather like Pippin's stomach, isn't it?" said Frodo in an attempt to achieve some light banter and lift the perpetual gloom off of their hearts.

"I'd say so, and I'm glad of that, indeed I am," Sam replied before sticking an arm into the sack. He kept it there for a short while, apparently searching for food, though no movement could be seen by Frodo's eyes. Sam's arm came out again, this time with a flagon in hand. He tossed it to Frodo. "Some water. As cool as ever, I'd wager."

Frodo nodded in relieved acquiescence after taking a large gulp. "Anything else?" he asked, handing the flagon back to Sam who drew a swallow.

"Hmm," said Sam now, with his arm back in the sack. "I think . . . I think I feel some of tha' choke-let stuff. I've a feelin' as if there are little square ridges under my fingers."

"I should like to taste some again then, Sam, although it is very sweet. I imagine it should not be eaten as lunch. It tastes more like dessert, doesn't it?"

"That it does," Sam agreed before withdrawing the block of Honeydukes chocolate from the pouch. He broke off two large pieces and tossed one to Frodo. Then he packed away the chocolate and they both settled down to eat.

It had been a shock to them both, when, not even three hours after they had left the Fellowship, Harry's occasionally wayward owl had come flying towards them with a small yellow note and a brown sack strapped to either of her legs. Of course, Frodo and Sam had seen this brown sack before, and they were comforted by the knowledge that it contained a lot of food and a lot of drink. They had read Aragorn's note, which had briefly explained that at the request of Harry, Hedwig and the food pouch was at their disposal for the remainder of their perilous journey.

They had been overjoyed, for they had not been particularly endeared to the idea of eating lembas for the rest of their trek into the Dark Lands, or having to go without water when theirs ran out. And now they could actually write letters to the Fellowship, and the Fellowship could write back! And not just that, they could send Hedwig to anyone in Middle Earth, even Lord Elrond, far away in Rivendell, or Lady Galadriel in fair Lothlorien. They knew they could do this because Aragorn had explained it all in the letter.

After Hedwig had arrived, the hobbits no longer felt so small anymore in this vast, cruel land, for now they had a link to the world outside Mordor; the heavy, dreary presence on their souls had abolished slightly at this conclusion. Only, it had returned somewhat in the last few hours when they had started losing their way amidst the harsh environment of Emyn Muil.

Looking to Hedwig now still sitting perched on the bolder beside him, Frodo thought of something. It seemed to him a very good something to think of, especially since he had just been pondering on how lost he and Sam currently were. However, he had no clue if this something would work. He would post the question to his friend, and see what he made of it.

"It just occurred to me that Hedwig can travel to anyone we tell her to if Aragorn's letter is to be believed, is that not right Sam?"

"I'd say so," said Sam, still munching his chocolate. "I gather all we have to do is tell 'er the name of the person we want to send a letter to. I can send 'er to my Old Gaffer if I wanted. At least, tha's the idea I've been gettin' from readin' Strider's note, if you pardon me, Mr Frodo."

"Of course, Sam. The same has occurred to me. I should very much like to write to Bilbo and hear what he's been up to in Rivendell since we left. But Sam, to be able to do that, Hedwig must have an excellent sense of direction. I expect it is because she is a wizard's pet, and has her own queer magic."

Sam caught on to what Frodo was trying to say immediately. "You mean if we asked 'er to, she could lead us out of here? Now there's an idea!"

Frodo nodded, smiling in relief, for he felt rather brilliant at the moment. "Exactly."

Then both of them cast their attentions on the great owl, who was now regarding them with a suspicious, squinting gaze.

"So how do we go about askin'?" said Sam after he and Frodo had stood up again. "There're no names to tell 'er this time, for we don't want 'er to find us a person."

Frodo bit his lip, now not so certain that his brilliant idea was so brilliant after all. "Perhaps if we ask her to fly ahead, and to always remain within our sight? Then we can follow her out."

"Now tha's usin' the old noggin, Mr Frodo. Shall you try or shall I?"

"I believe I want to. I must be polite to her Sam. Have you seen the way Harry speaks to her? As though she is person?"

Sam nodded, remembering. "Aye, I understand."

"And I have just the thing to say." Frodo stared at the white owl. The owl stared back. He bowed politely, cleared his throat, and began — very respectfully in his opinion. "Miss Hedwig, Sam and I shall be ever so grateful for your assistance at this moment in time, for you see, we are quite lost, and we most humbly ask you to lead us out of this horrid place."

Hedwig's only reaction was to cock her head to the side.

"I do not understand," said Frodo in exasperation, and after a few minutes of mutual staring between owl and hobbit. "Why is she not leaving?"

"P'rhaps we need to tell 'er where she's to lead us to?" Sam suggested. He, too, had been confused as to why Hedwig hadn't responded.

"You're right, Sam!" cried Frodo joyfully. "She must not have understood my question."

Hedwig hooted.

The hobbits jumped in surprise, before grinning at each other.

"Dya see that, Mr Frodo! She's speakin' to us," said Sam, looking on in awe. "Just like with Mr Harry."

"I see! I see!" Frodo regarded Hedwig with a critical eye. "Would you lead us out of Emyn Muil, Hedwig, and until you see the Black Gate? We would like you to remain in our sight at all times, if you please."

This time Hedwig hooted twice before spreading her large wings and launching off the rock. As she flew over their heads and into the free air she seemed to the hobbits in that moment, with the sun shining on her white, glowing body, as a symbol of hope. Their hearts lifting with the sight, they followed after her, though this time with a very definite lilt to their step.

That night, after replenishing their empty bellies with food and drink, Frodo, Sam, and Hedwig settled down to sleep. It was, perhaps, unfortunate for the hobbits that Hedwig had been awake during the whole day, leading them through Emyn Muil with the sun shining in her sensitive eyes, otherwise she would not have been so tired now, and so, would not have felt the inclination to close those sensitive eyes, or to place her head in a comfortably warm spot under her left wing. Despite being intelligent and magical, Hedwig was still an owl after all, and could not be expected to know what was required of her without explicit instruction from the hobbits. She knew with Harry, of course. Harry was her master and her best friend, and it was her job to know what Harry wanted of her before she even knew herself. It was all part of a wizard owl's physiology.

And so, with no instruction from Frodo and Sam, and not being able to read them like she could Harry, poor Hedwig fell into a very contented, very deep sleep, where images of field mice and other such rodents danced under her eyelids.

It was lucky the hobbits were not so very tired themselves. Or, more to the point, they were very tired, but they dared not sleep from knowing there was something out there, following them. It was Frodo who had realised something was sniffing at their trail, and that that something was not very far off.

"We are not alone," he had said to Sam earlier that afternoon.

Ever since then, the hobbits had been on their guard, knowing that the thing — which they suspected very strongly might be that Gollum creature — could attack at any moment, especially when they lay relaxed and unsuspecting under their warm blankets.

As it was, they heard him before they saw him.

"Thievesss. Thievesss. You filthy, little thievesss. They takes it. They takes it from uss." He spoke in a low, guttural hissing sort of voice that seemed to produce more incoherent muttering than actual words. It was the first time the hobbits had heard that voice, and they felt a chill down their spines at the harshness of it.

As they heard the hissing sounds come closer, they opened their eyes just a little to find the creature already above them, clinging to the rock.

The hobbits moved as one, surprising Gollum so much that he hadn't the time to get on the defensive . . . unless he bit and kicked them. This he did.. Sam was forced to let go of Gollum's neck, while Frodo was flung unceremoniously onto the ground.

This action caused the chain, with the Ring attached, to make itself visible, catching Gollum's glinting eye. He leapt, snarling, his hands going for Frodo's little neck, but fortunately for Frodo, something happened to make Gollum change his mind.

In mid leap, Gollum was jerked to such a strong halt that his twiddley legs and large feet flapped upwards, almost colliding with his own face. He had stopped in mid snarl, aborting the sound into "Urgghahhssss!"

Then he was being lifted up in the air — high in the air — his body bobbing up and down like a cork on water with every flap of Hedwig's large, beautiful wings.

"Arrrrhhhssss!" cried Gollum while he struggled in Hedwig's talons. He, the hobbits, and even Hedwig, knew that he dared not attempt to hit her or pinch her, because he was now so high up that Hedwig would have dropped him to his doom if he so much as attempted to pry her talons from his shoulders. But that didn't stop Gollum from struggling, and the more he struggled, the tighter and deeper went Hedwig's claws.

Eventually, Gollum had to stop, for the pain was too much. Then he let out such a pathetic howl at his own forced submission, that the Hobbits, especially Frodo, were inclined to feel pity at the wretchedness of his twisted mind and lost, corrupted soul.

"Bring him down, Hedwig! But do not drop him, even if he struggles!" Frodo shouted.

Hedwig did not just bring him down. She let herself freefall into a sharp dive that had Gollum screeching even louder and covering his eyes with a skinny forearm, so as not to witness the fast approaching ground.

A few meters above the ground Hedwig came to a halt, then she opened her claws and Gollum was dropped awkwardly on the hard rock. Before he could attempt to do anything, Sam slipped the elven rope about his neck.

Gollum howled.

He was still howling the next morning when the hobbits dragged him through a low ravine, with Hedwig flying a little ways ahead. Sam, who was the one holding Gollum's rope, couldn't take it anymore. Gollum had been tugging, and dragging, and screeching, and howling the entire morning, and when he tugged, and dragged, and screeched, and howled just then, Sam lost his patience.

"Be quiet!" he commanded, whirling around to see the creature perched on the edge of a rock.

"Sam," said Frodo, almost in warning.

Gollum screeched even louder, tugging at the rope at his neck. "It burns! It burns uss!"

"Get down!" yelled Sam, and snapped the rope so harshly that Gollum was one again face to face with his large flapping feet.

"Sam!" Frodo cried, half in horror.

"Every orc in Mordor's going to hear that racket!" spat Sam, hating Gollum even more.

Frodo privately agreed, but he did not think this was the way to go about treating this creature. Instead, he moved to stand next to Gollum, who was writhing and moaning on the pebbly ground like a fox caught in a trap; a trap that, in Gollum's case, was the elven rope around his neck.

When he caught sight of Frodo above him, Gollum stood on his knees and presented the rope to the hobbit, looking with pathetic, imploring eyes. "Take it off uss!" he implored.

Frodo could not help but feel pity. "You know the way to the black gate." It wasn't a question.

Gollum now looked suspicious.

It took perhaps a couple more minutes of arguing with Sam, bargaining with Gollum, and more arguing with Sam, to finally convince the both of them that using Gollum as a guide through Mordor was a good idea. Sam argued using Hedwig as an excuse, but Frodo pointed out that after Emyn Muil, they really had no clue where any other place, or the name of any other place was, so they could not tell Hedwig. Sam conceded after that.

"And," said Frodo now, after removing the rope from Gollum's neck. "We can send Hedwig to the others explaining the new situation, since we do not need her currently. She can find us again later."

Sam accepted that idea, though grudgingly, and the hobbits, with Gollum watching on curiously, set about writing a note and tying it to one of Hedwig's legs.

After finishing, the hobbits petted Hedwig's soft, downy head, remembering that Harry had always performed this action for her. The owl leaned into their hands, a look of pleasure on her face.

"Please take that letter to your master, Hedwig," said Frodo.

Hedwig gently nipped Frodo and Sam's noses with her beak, surprising them greatly, before flapping high, and higher, and higher, and over the ravine, until they could not see her anymore.

Their spirits fell slightly at the sight.

Merry and Pippin — felt among other unpleasant things — highly uncomfortable at the moment. For the passed three days . . . was it three? They weren't entirely sure. Of course they weren't entirely sure about a lot of things at the moment, but they knew they were the most sure that the hours seemed to blend together like a mashed up mushroom pie that had just been taken out of the stove, the steam piping up their noses in delicious woodsy swirls; and the combination of mushroom and lamb, with a hint of spicy sauce, tickling their tongues before sliding blissfully warm down their throats, coming to a plop in their bellies where it would rest comfortably for the nest couple of hours . . . sigh . . .

With not much else to do but hang limply off of the fat, smelly necks of the Uruk-hai, they had also taken to daydreaming constantly. Mostly about food; other times with a longing for a clean privy. A bath was also longed for, although, that was something they had learned to do without in the last couple of months, so the lack of cleanliness didn't bother them nearly as highly as a lack of comfortable holes in which to do their business in.

Certainly, the Uruks had had to stop more than a few times on account of disgruntled hobbit complaints and grumbles.

And they had complained and grumbled, most frequently too. Not just about the lack of certain necessities, but also about the various aches, pains, and bruises they'd accumulated due to being tossed, jarred, jutted, bounced, rolled, and all those other unpleasant sensations that came from riding on a heavily armoured, fast running – sometimes up and down hills – Uruk.

Not to mention — the stench was unbelievable! It was quite obvious that these Uruks had not had a bath in like forever!

Merry and Pippin had frequently tried breathing through their navels, but after discovering that this was not a part of a hobbit's physiology —as opposed to a grasshopper's — they gave up. Well they'd had to, for fear of passing out from lack of air!

So, they'd had to stifle it, and endure smelly armpits — the stench of which could be likened to a hot, rotting carcass sweltering under the midday sun— bad breath — Old Proudfoot's very loud, and very proud gas expulsions after a breakfast of half-a-dozen eggs — and the overall smell of the Uruk-hai's themselves — which did not even bear describing, it was that horrible.

Suffice to say, Merry and Pippin had not had a good time of it. No indeed. This was why they had taken to daydreaming, or more to the point, hallucinating about pleasant things.

So when Merry and Pippin — still bouncing uncomfortably on the Uruk's backs — heard a whispered "Psst. Merry, Pippin!" by their ears, they, as anyone in their position would assume, thought they were having another hallucination — although this one seemed to involve a leak of some sort, which gave the hobbits the idea they needed to empty their bowels again.

But when the voice sounded once more, asking, "Are you two alright?" they thought that the hazardous stench they'd come to live with in the passed three days was finally effecting their brains, and that they were, in fact, loosing what was left of their wits.

Feeling uncertain — or perhaps just needing assurance that he wasn't going mad — Pippin cleared his throat. "Merry, Merry!" he whispered furiously.

"Yes, Pippin?" Merry returned, just as furiously.

"I'm hearing voices."

Merry didn't say anything to that for along time, until: "Me too, Pip."

Pippin's breath came out in little shuddering gasps. "D-does that mean we've gone mad?"

"You're not mad!" said the voice again, this time with a hint of irritation.

The hobbits jumped — or rather, they jolted. It was hard to jump strapped to someone's back.

"Who's there?" asked Merry with a frown, looking around.

Pippin had thought the voice sounded a little familiar, but he couldn't place it.

"It's. Me!" it said anxiously, and the hobbits finally recognised who it was.

"Harry!" they shouted, overjoyed.

"Shut yer filthy little gobs!" yelled an especially nasty Uruk named Ugluk up the front, "or I'll 'ave 'em fer breakfast!"

"Muffliato. That should do it. This lot don't seem too friendly," Harry whispered.

"Where are you? Why don't we see you? Do you have the Ring? How did you come here?" said the hobbits, talking over the top of each other.

"Er . . . magic," said Harry. "Look, Aragorn's sent me to check up on you. Have they, er, mistreated you in anyway? What I mean is, do you have enough food and stuff?"

"No," they said together.

"It's been horrible," said Merry.

"They don't feed us at all," Pippin continued morosely.

"I've got some Lembas bread," Harry said. "I can put some in your mouths if you open them up." Harry's voice now sounded from above them.

Obligingly, the hobbits did so, and the next second they saw a flash of silver and a hand appearing above them in midair, and a chunk of elven way bread dropping into their mouths, before there was once again nothing but blue skies.

They munched on the generous helpings for a couple of minutes.

"Listen," Harry now said, voice sounding beside their ears again, "Aragorn and the others are on their way, they'll catch up pretty quick. Legolas reckons their gaining on the Uruk-hai, something about 'whips of the masters not being as whippy,' or something . . . I'd take you right now but I'm not sure if we'd all fit."

"Fit where?" Pippin asked, peering in the direction of Harry's voice.

Before their eyes, it appeared as if the fabric of reality was folded and torn open like a split seam, revealing the smiling face of their friend.

"How are you doing that?" Pippin breathed in awe.

Harry's disembodied face drifted closer. "A cloak of invisibility. I'm also on my broom."

"A broom?" Merry asked.

"I told you I could fly," Harry smiled. "My broom is enchanted to fly." Then a frown. "I was hoping to snatch you up before they even noticed you were gone but I doubt even the stupid one you're riding on would miss you disappearing right on top of him. Help is on the way though, so just hang in there."

"If you hadn't noticed," said Merry, annoyance in his voice at the perceived mocking, "we're doing that already."

"Not . . ." Harry breathed. "I didn't mean it like that. It's just one of those things, you know. Things people say in my world. It means, erm, keep at it, stand your ground, stand firm, that sort of thing."

"Well, we aren't standing," said Pippin, half seriously, half stupidly.

"Forget it," was all Harry said to that, and sighed. "Just know that the others'll catch up soon. Have hope, and all that. " Then she paused before whispering, "I'd better leave. I'll come back s—"

"Somethin' the matter?" growled Ugluk, cutting Harry off in mid-speech.

There was a heavy sniffing, rumbly sound. "I smell Man-flesh!" was snarled by another Uruk named Lugdush.

There was a shuffling and clattering as every Uruk came to a halt and started sniffing maniacally.

Merry and Pippin heard a clenched, "Damn it! Finite Incantatem." before they felt a fluttering of something like smooth cloth against their cheeks, and a great swooshing sound, then nothing.

"He's left," said Merry.

But the hobbits were grinning. A gleam of hope had come to them. They now knew they weren't alone.

As Harry flew back in the direction of the remainder of the Fellowship, she cast off her invisibility cloak and stuffed it inside her robe pocket, wincing as she did so as part of the cloak snagged a little on her broken ankle. Aragorn had, of course, examined it just that morning, but it was still too tender to do much with it, so he'd left it like it was, though he had contended to tie an extra shirt of Dudley's around it, which made Harry look like she had a great fat pillow hanging off her leg.

Harry giggled to herself, thinking if Madame Promfrey could see her now . . .

What was that?

Harry halted in mid-air and cast her attention to what she was sure was the East. There it was in the distance, plonked between the mountains like a dirty great thumb. The Mt. Doom. Appropriate name, Harry now thought, especially since a whole load of black smoke was rising out of it. Harry felt a shiver encompass her body as she saw that blackness, the kind of shiver she got when she went up against Voldemort.

Poor Frodo and Sam. Hedwig, I hope you're okay.

Shaking her head to clear it of all unpleasant thoughts, Harry gently nudged her broom with her thighs and continued flying onwards. She wasn't flying at a very fast pace so her ankle wouldn't be pressured. The cool wind moved across her face and through her hair, mangling and massaging it so pleasantly that Harry wasn't aware she'd closed her eyes and plastered a dopey smile across her face.

When will I get to go home?

The thought came unbidden, sudden, surprising her.

She opened worried eyes.

When would she get to go home? Hadn't she already saved Boromir? Hadn't she already completed her mission? If Harry closed her eyes right now and fell asleep, deliberately dreaming of Hogwarts, would she — As Dumbledore theorized— be taken there? If so, what would happen to Hedwig? What would happen to her stuff? She couldn't just leave them stuck here! The very idea of never seeing her faithful owl, or her treasured broom, or her father's invisibility cloak, or her photo album, was so ghastly that Harry firmly told herself that she would never dream about Hogwarts until she figured out how to take everything with her.

But for that she needed to find one of the wayward wizards that Middle Earth hosted, but there were only three of them — four if she counted Saruman, which she didn't — and no one, not even Galadriel knew where they were!

If only Gandalf was still alive, Harry was sure the old wizard would have an answer.

But for now, Harry decided to dismiss all this tiresome thinking and concentrate on finding the others, who seemed to have disappeared. Either that or Harry had flown over them without knowing. She could just imagine Gimli, agitated, waving his axe in the air to get Harry's attention while Harry flew on, unknowing, a stupid smile on her face . . .

Harry pulled her broom into a stop once more and scanned the surroundings below her. All she could see were the usual rolling hills with bits of boulders stuck half in half out of them. Here and there were small cliff-like creations that was only sixteen or so feet high, but still carpeted heavily with grass, and —

Harry peered.

Was that movement on the little bluff?

"Yes!" she shouted triumphantly, and then mumbled, almost as an afterthought, "stupid elven cloaks."

In no time flat Harry found herself standing on the ground beside the others — with her good foot, using her Firebolt as a sort of staff/cane — and explaining the conversation she'd had with Merry and Pippin.

"It is true their pace has quickened," Aragorn was now saying, stroking his chin a bit.

"How did you —?" Harry began, flummoxed.

"Rangers are knowledgeable in most areas and hopeless in others," returned Aragorn, as if that explained everything. Then he seemed to stare off in the distance, as though seeing something only rangers could see.

"Right," Harry said, and blinked. "What do we do now?"

"We will go after them, of course!" exclaimed Boromir, looking at Harry as though he thought it was stupid to even ask. "Our little friends should not be allowed to suffer for more than they do already."

"Then what are we waiting for?" growled Gimli, his eyes glittering.

"Rest," explained Aragorn patiently. "We have journeyed far and my legs are tired and my soul is weary. We should eat and drink plenty also. We shall need it to endure the rest of the day."

Everyone agreed this was a very good idea, though Harry couldn't help noticing that Legolas didn't look the least bit tired.

After feasting — if a couple of bites of lembas bread and a few swallows of water counted as feasting — they set off again. They ran — or flew— onwards, with Aragorn tracking the ground and a few times lying flat on it to listen to the Uruk-hai footsteps that caused faint vibrations in the earth. A couple of times they stopped also, to see where the Uruk-hai currently were compared to themselves. The only people who could actually do this were Legolas with his elven eyesight, Harry who would sometimes fly a mile or two ahead or really high up, and Aragorn whom Harry had given her Omnioculars to.

When nightfall came, they rested for a few of hours of shut-eye, with Harry standing or rather sitting guard since she was the least tired of the lot, before they set off again. Harry was extremely grateful to have her broom with her, as she knew she wouldn't have been able to keep pace with the others if she hadn't. As it was, just looking at Gimli weighted down with an assortment of heavy weapons, armour, and chain mail, but still trudging proudly onwards, made her feel tremendously weary.

The next day, sometime in the late morning, they came upon dry looking plains that extended further than human and even elven eyes could see.

"Home of the Horse Masters," muttered Boromir.

There was silence in the empty fields as Aragorn once again bent to lie flat, pressing his ear onto the ground.

Harry, who was hovering about ten meters up in the air, and so wasn't hampered by normal human or elven height — which couldn't see over the slight incline that rested before them — began: "Erm . . . Aragorn?"

Aragorn gestured for Harry to be quite and pressed himself even more into the ground.

"It's just that —"

"Shh," hissed Gimli flapping a gloved hand. "He's hearing something!"

"Yeah, I know, I wanted to tell you —"

"Riders!" Aragorn suddenly cried, shooting up to his feet. "Many riders on swift steeds are coming towards us!"

At this, Legolas immediately ran up the short hill.

"That's what I've been trying . . . never mind," said Harry, and she floated up several more meters in order to see better.

"Yes!" said Legolas now, after having reached the top of the hill. "There are one hundred and five. Yellow is their hair, and bright are their spears. Their leader is very tall."

"You see all that?" Harry asked in amazement, coming to hover head-height beside Legolas. All she'd seen was a bunch of shiny glinting metal stuff positioned on what she assumed were horses. She had only guessed that it was a group of people.

Aragorn came to stand on the hill beside them, Boromir and Gimli following. "Keen are the eyes of the Elves," he said, smiling. Then he placed the Omnioculars that hung around his neck over his eyes and scanned the horizon.

"The riders are a little more than five leagues distant," said Legolas, turning to watch Aragorn with a small smile.

Gimli humphed. "Five leagues or one, we cannot escape them in this bare land. Shall we wait for them here or go on our way?"

"We will wait," said Aragorn, not taking his gaze from between the lenses of Harry's Omniocluars. "I am weary, and no doubt you all are as well."

"The riders would surely have passed the Uruk-hai," Boromir suggested. "Theoden King does not allow foul creatures to roam his lands unchecked. If the riders are coming towards us, they surely would have slaughtered every Uruk ere they came this way, which means that Merry and Pippin must be safe."

"I see no hobbits," said Legolas and Aragorn together.

"But I do not doubt you," Aragorn continued, letting the Omnioculars rest back on his chest. He turned to Boromir. "We shall have to wait here. Behind that boulder would be a good place to hide." He pointed to a large protruding boulder a few meters away. "Then we shall see if they are friendly folk or ones we need to raise swords against, though I do not believe it to be the latter."

Some time later they still sat behind the boulder, shifting uncomfortably on the hard ground. There had been a bit of an issue of what to do with Harry, seeing as he couldn't walk towards the riders, and nobody had wanted the riders to see Harry actually flying on a piece of wood used for sweeping.

"They will surely think some evil sorcery abounds!" Boromir had said.

"It doesn't even look like a regular broom! How would they even know what it is?"

In the end, despite Harry suggesting more than once that she could just become invisible, it was decided that Harry should remain behind the boulder, and should only reveal herself if the others were in dire need of it.

Harry did not much like this option, but she had given Gimli one part of an Extendable Ear and told him to hide it in his beard, while she kept the other half. It had taken at least ten minutes of explanation about what the Extendable Ears were used for, their purpose, their make-up, etc, until Gimli was inclined to except his Ear. He tied it in the middle of his beard before concealing the Ear by draping more beard over it, so the end result indicated there was nothing to be seen.

"We can talk to each other through these as well," Harry told him. Her brow crinkled in worry. "I should have given Merry and Pippin one."

"We cannot all be as fast in wit as dwarves," Gimli informed, and patted her kindly on the shoulder.

"Ah!" Boromir suddenly exclaimed. "Hear you that?"

Everyone besides Legolas, who must have already heard long before now, tuned their ears' attentions on the fast approaching galloping sound.

"The horsemen approach!"

They weren't just approaching, they were already upon them. A great galloping, crying, ferocious, and snorting hoard they were; the horses' hoofs sounded like thunder on the dry earth.

Aragorn leapt from behind the rock and ran after the passing horsemen, the rest following.

"Riders of Rohan, what news from the North?" he shouted. He had placed his hand in a casual way on the base of his sword.

Harry poked her head a little ways from behind the rock in time to see the entire one hundred and five golden-haired warriors ride back and encircle her friends, pointing their long spears at them so threateningly, that they could hardly move for fear of getting pierced.

Well, that was a bit of not good.

Aragorn placed both hands up in an offering off peace, but Harry clenched a hand around her wand, her heart thundering.

A deep voice spoke from the hoard, Harry listening through the Extendables. "What business do two Men, an Elf, and a Dwarf have in the Riddermark?"

When no one said anything immediately, a rider came forward. "Speak quickly!" he ordered.

"We track a party of Uruk-hai westward across the plain. They have taken two of our friends captive." Harry might have imagined it, but she thought Aragorn's voice broke a little at the end. "We are friends to Theoden and to his people."

Harry sat back around the boulder and leaned against it when her ankle began to pain her. Unfortunately, this meant she could no longer see anything, but at least she could hear.

"Theoden no longer recognizes friend from foe," said the stranger. "Not even his —shhcrkkk! Crackle. Crackle. Clang!"

Harry stared at the Ear in her hand, shocked. What in God's name was that sound?

". . . he walks in the woods they say —" craaaaaaaaaccckkle! Shwoosh. Swish. Shwoosh.

What the . . . ? Harry gave the Ear a little shake.

"Give me your name Horse Master, and I shall give you mine!" declared Gimli proudly.

Must have been a spur of the moment sort of thing, thought Harry, not sure whether she was commenting on the strange sound, or what Gimli had said.

"I would cut off your head, dwarf!" spat the stranger. "If it stood but a little higher from the ground!"

"You would die before —"

Legolas's voice was cut off as, once again, the strange crackling sound appeared. From then on, much to Harry's furious irritation, the sound came almost constantly, and, on occasion, the only distinguishable thing Harry could hear was, "slaughtered during the night", "Arod!" and, "It has forsaken these lands." By the time the others came back around the boulder, this time with two horses trotting behind them, Harry was fully convinced that whatever the strange sound had been was entirely Gimli's fault, and as soon as the dwarf came into view, Harry — much to Gimli's alarm — pounced, lifting the dwarf's beard so that the Ear came into view.

She finally realised what that annoying sound had been. The crackles and the swishy swooshy-ing had been Gimli's outrageous beard brushing up against the Ear, and the clanging had been the Ear banging on Gimli's armour.

The dwarf was sputtered as Harry untied the Ear from his beard. Everyone else looked on in amusement.

"Sorry," Harry said, realising she was making a fool of him. "But the stupid thing would only pick up the sounds nearest to it. Like your beard. I could barely hear what was being said!"

Boromir coughed politely into his hand.

Gimli harrumphed and muttered under his breath, trying to pretend he wasn't blushing, and then said very gruffly. "We should be off. The hobbits are waiting!"

A short while later after explaining everything to Harry they mounted their transports — Legolas and Gimli on one horse, Aragorn and Boromir on the other, and Harry flying beside them — and they thundered across the plains until the pile of orc carcasses came into view. Everyone except Harry dismounted and started picking their way through the burnt up flesh.

Harry came to hover by Gimli as he scrounged through the pile of burnt bodies, finally unearthing something. "It's one of their wee belts," he said, looking up at Harry, then at the others with a sort of questioning stare.

Harry suddenly had to fight a hotness behind her eyes. Merry and Pippin couldn't be dead, they just couldn't! She had spoken to them not even a day ago!

Aragorn sank to his knees and let out such a deep howl of anguish and grief, and Boromir and Legolas just looked so shocked, as if they couldn't comprehend that the hobbits might actually be gone. Seeing them, Harry finally allowed the tears to trickle down her cheek.

They let a heavy silence engulf them.

"A hobbit lay here," Aragorn said eventually, palming the grass at his feet. "And the other."

Harry felt like yelling — who cares if hobbits lay there, their not laying there anymore! But as soon as she had the thought she was ashamed of herself.

"They crawled," Aragorn continued, standing up to follow the trail. "They were followed." His voice began to get hopeful, and Harry couldn't help but think —is it possible? "Their hands were bound," said Aragorn, examining the ground. He bent down to pick something up and produced a rope, covered in dried grass. "Their bonds were cut!" he said half surprised half excitedly, lurching forwards.

The rest followed, just as excited.

"They ran," said Aragorn, coming to a stop, "into Fangorn Forest."

"Fangorn," breathed Gimli. "What madness drove them in there?"

Before anyone could answer a shrill screech sounded from above them. Harry's heart lifted; she knew that sound! Everyone looked up, including Harry.

"Hedwig!" she cried. The bird was flapping furiously in their direction, a piece of parchment tied to her leg. Harry then felt like an ice cube had dropped into her stomach. Why would Frodo and Sam write to them now, so shortly after having left?

Harry forced herself to wait until Hedwig came to a final flap, perching on the end of her broom.

Harry hugged the owl to her as the others crowded around below. Thinking it would be rude to just float above their heads like this when they were so obviously interested in what the letter held, Harry lowered herself until she was about waist high.

"Why would they send Hedwig now?" asked Legolas, worry briefly flashing across his face. "Surely something has not happened?"

"I don't know," muttered Harry. "But we're going to find out." She untied the piece of parchment from around Hedwig's leg and opened it. She clutched the paper tightly in her hands. "Damn it!" she said, and the others jerked forward.

"What does it say?" they all demanded to know.

"I've no idea," Harry moaned, frustrated. "I forgot that I can't read Westron!"

Aragorn laughed weakly and shot Harry a narrowed look that involved a little head-shaking, before plucking the parchment out of the wizard's hand and scanning it. The others crowded around him.

"Ai!" said Legolas. "That Gollum has found them!"

"The creature that escaped two score of elven folk?" said Gimli a bit cheekily.

Legolas ignored him.

"They are using him as a guide through Mordor!" said Boromir, shock evident in his tone. "Are they mad?"

"They are hobbits," returned Aragorn. "We shall have to hope that their judgment be good on this." He folded the parchment and stuffed it inside his tunic. "But now we go yonder into the forest."

"Hang on, shouldn't we write back?" Harry asked.

Aragorn didn't even hesitate. "Aye. They will wish to know they are not alone in this, and that we consent their decision."

"Right," Harry said. Then she un-pocketed her trunk, dropped it on the ground and enlarged it. When she found the ink, parchment, and quill, she gave it to Aragorn and the ranger proceeded to write. When he finished he tied the letter around Hedwig's leg, just as he had seen Harry do.

"Frodo and Sam," Aragorn told Hedwig, throwing Harry a questioning look.

Harry nodded.

Then they all waited.

And waited.

Hedwig wasn't moving off the end of the broom.

"What is it, Hedwig?" Harry asked, suddenly afraid she might be ill. "Are you —?"

Hedwig screeched at her indignantly.

"Oh, sorry, I forgot." Harry mumbled hastily, realising what Hedwig wanted. Her cheeks pinkened as she saw that everyone else had seen how her owl had reprimanded her.

She rummaged through her trunk until she found the owl treats. She gave Hedwig a few and she munched happily for a minutes before shooting into the air.

"Good luck!" Harry yelled after her. "She'll be fine," she told the others. "The hobbits will be fine with Hedwig looking after them, too. She's very territorial."

Aragorn nodded, his eyes shining. "Come!" he called, and with strangely heavy and excited hearts they followed him into Fangorn.

A/N: As I said earlier, this was one that borrowed heavily from the original chapter. I don't think I did much beyond changing the pronouns. I'd edit it more, but there was really no need.