Author's Note!!!
Sorry it took so long for this one…I had technical difficulties over the past week or so. No matter now! Hope the wait was worth it.
As for the dedication…. (Drum roll…)
boredom is a crime!
Because I love your name, one, and two, because your review made me laugh. I mean, how many stories are there where Harry doesn't get hurt? Lol. Hope you like this one boredom, because it's for you!
Read and Review and the next one maybe for you! Love you, all my dangerously beautiful readers out there!
Book Two Chapter 10: Rest and Decisions
Draco didn't have to worry about meeting with their Lady at first – an Elf took Gandalf from Boromir and told Draco to follow her. He was led to a roofless room with two spacious twin beds that stood across from each other. She set Gandalf down on one and Draco, with his best gentleness, cautiously sat down upon the other and maneuvered the unconscious Harry to lie on his back. He had never seen the other look so pale before, even when he had first met the boy.
Draco removed his robe from Harry and was loathe seeing that the make-shift bandages had a large dark stain on them. He looked hopelessly at the white-robed brunette Elf who had come over to observe the second patient. Her face was passive, though, which told him nothing as she unwound the dirtied bindings. Another Elf came to her side, a black-haired man whose expression was similar to her own. He instructed Draco to leave with no room for argument or question in his command.
Draco hated feeling like the unnecessary observer. Worse, he hated knowing that he was useless.
He could not set himself to idly wait by the door of the hospital-like room, either. It was around this point when he finally noticed the beauty of their forest home. The trees became tall, fascinating buildings with no telling how many rooms or wonders they held. The stairs and open courtyards melded into the woods like they had been grown from the earth themselves instead of built. He wished he could have lived in such a place, of at least had the pleasure of visiting one without all the current duress. It may as well have been the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, because he knew that there would never be another chance to see another wonder like this one.
He found the group soon enough, and they were quieter than usual. He had the vague impression that the Lady Galadriel was responsible for their uneasy contemplations, a question on their faces that they had not been considering before. He wondered if he should be so unlucky to meet the woman herself, given the sudden dreary funk that Mary and Pippin were in, the liveliest of their party by far. But, an hour or so after meeting with them again, an Elf came and told him that he was summoned to her audience.
Draco reluctantly followed the Elf to one of the many open courtyards that was surrounded by a tight copse of tall trees. There was a small waterfall and tiny river that flowed on one side of the clearing, and a round stone basin in the center whereby stood a tall, blond and startlingly ocean blue-eyed woman in sweeping pristine robes. Her beauty alone made her stand apart from the rest of the Elves, but it was her presence, the peaceful and divine feeling that encircled her that made her truly unique from them.
Draco recalled a similar impression from a marble sculpture he had seen once, but even that could not compare to her perfection. But, oddly enough, he was not attracted to her in the least. It was like admiring a painting or the forest around him, not a person. This, he assumed, was what made him so unsure as to how to act or speak with her.
"Draco," she began, "You need not be so nervous in my presence; I am merely here to guide you, like you have been before,"
Oh, in the name of all things good and Slytherin… He pleaded within himself, just barely managing to stop himself from groaning aloud, Not ANOTHER bloody spirit guide!
The Lady Galadriel smiled lightly, as if she was quite amused at his thoughts. He would not put it past her to be a mind reader, for what did he know of the magical creatures of this world?
"If you are here to help me, then tell me that Harry can be cured," He got straight to what he wanted to know, not really in the mood for any deep and philosophical advice or any more tasks to be burdened with.
"He shall be healed, but will retain a scar that may never fade," she answered, the faint smile growing wider, "But do not worry; he will not be cursed any longer. However, I must warn you that the next leg of your journey will be unlike the others you may have faced before. Much more dangerous, to your body and to your mind," Lady Galadriel's expression did not change as she told him this.
He blinked and considered her words. What here could endanger their minds? He understood perfectly well what could cause them harm physically, but mentally? He shivered.
"And how do we get out of here? Do we just follow Frodo and assist him whenever he needs help?" He asked, trying not to think of her previous words.
"You are to follow Aragorn wherever he may go," She said.
Draco's brows furrowed. So…he was supposed to follow Aragorn…and Aragorn was going to follow Frodo…what was the difference? Did she see them separating any time soon?
"Do not dwell too much on this; the answer will come without need of contemplation. You are tired and need to rest, please take advantage of this haven you have come to," She motioned for him to leave, and that was that. He wondered what was to become of them in this world, almost ten times more wary of what could happen to them next now.
He went back to the room where they were keeping Harry, and was surprised when he found the door open. His eyes quickly judging the room to be empty with the exception of those in the beds, he entered with soft steps.
Gandalf, he saw, was in no different a state then when he came, sans his robe, which now had a white one in place of it. His face seemed much younger in his unnatural sleep, the lines born from anxiety and wisdom unmarred in relaxation.
He walked in further and turned to the other bedside. Harry still had no shirt on, but his features, much like Gandalf's, were smoothed in sleep. It was clear that he was no longer in pain, and Draco felt a flare of anger that the Elf healers had not let him sit in and show him a thing or two about their abilities. To be able to remove such a strong curse in a short time was a real diamond amongst many a power…
But none of that mattered. Harry was going to be alright, and he did not have to take a corpse back home when the time came. He lifted the blanket slightly, seeing that Harry was bandaged with clean binding tightly, but not constricting, over his muscles. He noticed that much like his own, Harry's middle and chest had been sculpted finely by all the training and their weeks of travel.
He pulled the blanket back up and around Harry's shoulders. His hands stayed there as he looked upon the raven's face. He could not stop his hand from reaching out and smoothing back the dark hair, revealing the famous scar. His fingers of the same hand trailed over the raise in his forehead lightly as his eyes followed the curve of his nose, the brush of his eyelashes, the line of his cheek and jaw, and the stark flush of color in his mouth that contrasted his features…
Draco's cheeks darkened greatly when he saw that his hand had fallen to the side of Harry's face, and that he had been staring for an inconsiderable amount of time at…
Well, he had been staring at his rival with something other than rage or hate, and that was not acceptable in the least. He had saved the guy from dying; he had repaid him for saving him from the demon. That was it. He took his hands away and proceeded back to where the group was staying for the evening.
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The next day was highly eventful. In fact, Draco was roused by an argument between Aragorn and Boromir…
"We cannot afford such a convenience! Mordor grows in strength without pause, and us staying here any longer is suicide!" Boromir stressed.
"Gandalf and Harry are just in need of a few days rest, we cannot abandon them now! They are the only reason we survived in the mines!" Aragorn pressed, waving an arm back to address the past.
Boromir groaned, "But they are injured and we do not even know if Gandalf will recover at all! Surely this mission is more important than waiting for their recovery; we have only one thing that is working in our favor, and not much of it! TIME! If we do not give them the opportunity to gain more power, then it will be the easier to get past their guard."
"And if we don't have the protection necessary to-" Aragorn started.
"Enough!"
Both Boromir and Aragorn spun towards Draco, their hands on their weapons by instinct alone. He looked between them, running a hand through his hair.
"You both have a point, alright?" Draco practically growled, annoyed at losing what little sleep he could have achieved in the early morning. "So let's compromise,"
They shared one last heated glare before looking at the blond again.
"You should leave now, to gain whatever ground you can towards our goal," Draco continued, putting a hand up at Aragorn's objection, "I will put a spell on you to tell us where you are when we are ready and recovered. There, does that sound like a plan?"
Boromir nodded, but Aragorn asked, "Does that mean that you will be staying here until they are healed?"
Draco nodded, "I need to make sure that Harry is actually ready before he does something to hurt himself worse, which he might,"
"What of Gandalf?"
"Like Boromir said…If he is awake by the time Harry is ready, then one of us will wait for him until he is recovered and the other will come with you. If not, then…the Elves have already consented to taking care of him for longer if necessary." Draco was saddened by this, having grown fond of the quirky and easy-going man, but he could see the devastation in Aragorn and Legolas's eyes. Legolas had been listening the entire time with not a single comment, not seeing any real input that could take away their quarrel.
So, the now 'separated' Fellowship had agreed. Aragorn, Boromir, Gimli, Legolas, Frodo, Sam, Mary, and Pippin would continue, and Draco would stay to watch over their temporarily invalid companions. Their sendoff was quiet, but the reassurance that they had gained from only a few moments with the Lady Galadriel was invaluable. They were to travel in canoes until they reached the falls a few miles away and cross the river there.
As soon as they were out of sight, Draco returned to the room where the other two lay to see if anything had changed during the night. Apart from a healthier coloring on Harry's skin, there was nothing. The Elves seemed confident that he would wake soon. The same was not said for Gandalf, but no one was really sure why he was still asleep. They hoped that it was a healing sleep, in the least.
The next day, they removed Harry's bandages, and a white-beige scar was the only thing to remind of the gruesome, infected wound. He did not, however, wake up until the following morning.
Draco sat in a wicker-like seat near Harry's bedside studying one of the potions books that they had brought when the raven's eyes fluttered open. After several moments of deep breathing, Harry rubbed a hand over his face and sat up groaning.
"Harry?" Draco addressed him quietly.
"Hmm…?" Emerald eyes found Draco, "Draco…Where am I?"
Draco would not let himself be startled by his intense gaze, which should have been impossible for just waking up. "In Lothlorien Forest, or so I'm told."
Harry nodded, as if he had heard of the place before.
"Are you…I mean, do you feel alright?" Draco asked hesitantly.
Harry looked at him closely again, before his eyes and hand flew to his stomach, and he out lined the new scar with disbelief. He exhaled with great fervor before falling back onto the bed heavily.
"I thought I was going to die…" He said, to no one in particular.
"Sorry to disappoint," Draco said, with a twitch of a smile on his lips.
"That's not the bad thing…" Harry ground out.
"What is then?" Draco wondered laughingly.
"I'm getting used to the bloody feeling." Harry breathed out, and chuckled lethargically.
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By that afternoon, Harry felt he had the strength to travel and fight, saying he had slept three days and that was enough. They were flying to meet the group anyway.
Seeing as both their sets of clothes were sufficiently stained and or ruined, and they were not equipped with quality travel attire in the first place, the Elves refitted them in their finest.
Draco wore black breeches with a silver and black leather belt and black boots that came to his knees. They gave him an unbreakable, slice-through-any-kind-of-material knife that tucked into the outside of his right calf where no one could see it. He also wore a blue and grey embroidered long-sleeved tunic with a black leather shoulder holster for his double sword staff. The last gift they gave him was an Elfish enchanted cloak, just like they gave Harry one.
Harry was in brown knee-high boots and dark tan breeches with a brown and gold braided leather belt and a green and gold embroidered tunic. Instead of a boot knife, they gave him a shield with an emblem of a prancing Pegasus that they said symbolized hope and fierceness in battle. He also got a waist sheath for his blade, which made access much easier for future use.
For awhile, (and they both teased one another relentlessly for this) all they could do was stare in the mirror at their new attire. They could not thank the Elves enough in their departure. Lady Galadriel came forward then, meeting Harry for the first time. She gave them her best blessings, and kissed their foreheads in farewell.
They kicked off moments later, Draco flying slightly ahead of Harry.
"How far?" Harry asked over the wind resistance.
"I think we should be to them in about hour," Draco felt on the pull of his spell that he had placed on Aragorn. Barley a minute over Draco's guess, they spotted Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli standing at the river bank. They landed two yards away with a lightness that made no sound. They promptly shrunk their brooms and walked up behind the three, making no effort to hide their footsteps, but ended up surprising them anyway.
"Hello," Harry said, puzzled when he saw the three jump slightly.
"Harry…Draco," Aragorn nodded to both of them gravely.
"What is the matter?" Draco asked, eyeing them suspiciously.
"Boromir…has fallen," Gimli answered, turning to the canoe that was in front of them. In it lay the burly man himself, paler and stiff in the skinny boat.
Harry immediately moved forward, looking down into the craft. "What happened?" He closed his eyes and bowed his head.
"We were ambushed…by the Orcs," Aragorn said.
"I thought that they could not move in the sunlight?" Draco looked alarmed.
"These were manufactured by Sauron, they bore his white hand**" Legolas explained quietly. "They have overcome the sun, it seems."
"Then where is everyone else?" Harry looked alarmed, "Are they..?"
"No," Aragorn turned toward them, "Mary and Pippin were taken by the Orcs, and Frodo and Sam continued on their own,"
"So…What are we going to do?" Draco asked, "If we follow Frodo and Sam, then we doom Mary and Pippin…"
"Frodo and Sam will be alright," Aragorn nodded to himself, "We have to believe that they will succeed, but we cannot leave the other two to suffer with those monsters."
"We will rescue those young Hobbits," Gimli said firmly. The rest agreed heartily and they started after the two good-humored Hobbits with fierce determination.
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It was fortunate, just as it was unfortunate, that they were tracking an army of Orcs, because of the wide trail they left behind. It was unfortunate because the beasts seemed to need very little rest at all.
Most of the time, Harry and Draco ran with the other three, but when it became too much they would follow on broomstick, often letting Aragorn, Legolas, or Gimli to ride with them if they were tired too. While they were crossing a fairly open plain two days after their quest began, Aragorn called out to Legolas, who was in the lead.
"Legolas, what do your Elf eyes see?"
"They're tracking back to the northeast over to a wood." He paused and looked further into the distance. "They're taking the Hobbits to Isenguard!"(A/N: LOL! Seriously, there's a video called that, and anytime I think about it, it cracks me up! Check it out if you have the time…) he exclaimed in realization.
They all heard a curse come from Gimli, and pressed on harder. A few miles later the next day, they spotted a band of horsemen racing down a slope and Aragorn, recognizing the banner they flew, called out to them. It seemed like the right thing to do…
…Until they were staring down the ends of twenty spear points.
"Tell me," the one who was obviously their leader came forward in the circle of horses that surrounded them, "What business does an Elf, a Dwarf, and three men have in these parts?"
"We came looking for our companions who were taken by a group of Orcs and traveled this way," Aragorn explained. "Do you have any news of them, or of Théoden, your king?"
The man on the horse dismounted and removed his helmet, bowing slightly in sadness, "Theodin no longer recognizes friend from foe, not even his own kin," It was the king's nephew, Aoden. "His mind is poisoned by a man called Wormtongue, and he will not listen to reason."
Aragorn looked highly distressed at this, knowing that Theodin was king of a great horse people. He was interrupted in his thoughts when Aoden spoke again.
"As for your Orcs, we slaughtered a group of those not far from here, up that slope some ways," He finished his speech.
"There were Hobbits with them," Gimli said excitedly. "Did you see two Hobbits?"
Aragorn placed a hand on his shoulder and said, "They are small; they would be but children in your eyes,"
Aoden looked down again before saying, "We left none alive," Aoden saw the devastation in all of their faces, and he paused and whistled back to his group. Four horses came forward, a grey-marbled white one, a dark tan one, a black one, and a brown one that had a reddish tint even in the shade.
"Look for your friends, but do not trust to hope," Aoden mounted again, "They are forsaken, these lands," then he rode off, leaving the five with the four horses and a sad air of grim foreboding.
Aragorn took the dark tan mare, Legolas with a grumbling Gimli riding behind took the brown-red stallion, Harry on the grey and white mare, and Draco took the black one. They rode up the slope to the burning battle ground (Harry watching the others ride and following as best he could, not willing to admit he had never been on a horse before,) and they dismounted at the edge of the graveyard.
The warriors had burned the carcasses and their weapons, and the five could only look on in growing horror and depression. Their feelings were only gratified when they found the charred remnants of a knife-sheath belt that belonged to Pippin.
Aragorn cried out in anguish and anger with the article in his shaking fist, falling to his knees. Their heads were bowed and they were trying to contain their own sadness.
Moments later, they were drawn from their reveries when Aragorn was once more on the move, crouched and concentrating on the ground in front of him. They followed with silent curiosity, wondering what could be so important now. When they reached the edge of a large forest, he paused and looked deeply into its depths.
"They escaped and ran into the Fangorn Forest, their tracks lead away from the fray, and they are fresh," he said excitedly, knowing that his skills of hunting were hardly ever wrong. They were all about to enter the wood when a familiar voice stopped them.
"You need not worry over those two any more; I have seen to it that they are well protected,"
They turned and saw that it was Gandalf, dressed in pristine white robes. His hair and beard were immaculate and white as well, and he was holding a new white ornate staff.
"Gandalf…But how are you here?" Aragorn asked, somewhere between happy and suspicious.
"While in Lothlorien, I was dying, I will not lie about that. But it seems that my work here is not yet finished, and I was sent back." He said, and he gestured to his robes, "And while I was once Gandalf the Grey, I am now Gandalf the White, and can wield better and purer magic than before."
"That is fantastic!" Legolas said, clapping Gandalf lightly on the shoulder. "But what is this work that you are meant to accomplish?"
"It starts in King Théoden's home, I fear. The darkness has fallen hard there, almost as corrupt as in Gondor." And he whistled, and a white horse appeared. They all gathered their horses and remounted, following Gandalf to Theodin's keep.
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"Find more cheer in a graveyard," was Gimli's comment on seeing the outer town of Theodin's kingdom. It was probably true.
Hardly any sound came from all the people milling around them with tragic faces. They watched the six on horse back wearily, with a sort of resignation, as if to say, 'They maybe dangerous, they may be here to kill us…
But it's not like we can do a thing about it…'
It was heart-breaking, and one of the most devastating things that either of the two boys had seen. Harry could only force himself to keep his eyes on Gandalf, otherwise he feared that he might have jumped off his horse and try to help them, to tell them that it would be alright, he would save them…even if it wasn't true or possible, just to get them to stop looking so dead, apathetic.
Draco couldn't help but be disgusted by their obvious surrender. It was like they were waving a white flag and holding up a sign saying 'kill us now, we won't mind!'. He bit his cheek to hold back a growl of disapproval. He knew that they had suffered, that they would probably suffer even more before the end of the war, but to give up so blatantly…
He hoped that there would never be a day when he saw the same defeat in the eyes of wizards or witches in his own world. He didn't know what he would do if that happened. Sure, he wasn't forgiving or kind in many ways, but he would never wish for this on anyone…
They dismounted at the base of the stair leading to the courtyard before the throne room. The state of the throne entrance and room was not any better than the people's disposition. The once proud banners were tearing and the cobblestone was cracking harshly. Just as they were about to enter the room, though, they were stopped and asked to relent their weapons by five or six guards, fully armored. They asked for Gandalf's staff as well, but he said imploringly, "You would not deprive an old man his walking stick, would you?" At the looks on their faces, Draco almost let loose a sharp laugh. Didn't they know how powerful that thing was?
Obviously not, he chuckled in his thoughts. They were allowed to enter, 'weaponless', as they were. The haggard men and soldiers stared as they walked down the long aisle in the center, towards the over aged King and a dark crouched figure that occupied his right arm. The figure was pasty faced and sickly, with shifty eyes and long bony fingers that held the King's arm as he whispered into the King's ear.
Wormtongue, Harry felt the name highly appropriate.
"The greatness of your house seemed to have somewhat lessened, King Théoden," Gandalf called out as they approached, setting everyone around them on the defensive, reaching for their weapons indiscreetly.
"And why should I welcome you Gandalf...stormcrow?" The hallowed man on the throne asked, unsure and looked to Wormtongue to clarify. The pasty man nodded, ignoring the mistake in title and walked toward the group, saying,
"A just question, my liege," He folded his arms in front of himself, straightening as tall as he could, but he was scarcely taller than Gimli with his twisted back. "Late is the hour in which you arrive-"
"Quiet." Gandalf demanded, "Keep that horrid tongue behind your teeth," He pointed the staff in Wormtongue's face, and the darkly dressed man backed away.
"His staff..." He growled, "I told you to take away his staff!" he yelled at the guards, who started charging at the group to obey his wishes.
Aragorn threw the first punch, followed by Legolas. They fended off the guards racing at Gandalf as the wizard in white moved closer to Théoden, walking up the steps that led to his throne. Harry and Draco would kick and punch, adding a little air-bending to make their hits a mite harder and knock them back. Gandalf wielded his staff and spelled at the King, forcing the one controlling Théoden to release their hold on him. When he was successful, the King's heavily aged appearance melted away, revealing a man of just over forty. The mind control had taken its toll on him, but no longer.
There were a few moments of silence as the King regained himself. The disorientation faded from his eyes, and he took his sword when Gandalf offered it to him. He looked around his throne room, and fixated on Wormtongue. The sickly man looked as if he were about to soil himself, and he was promptly chased out of the kingdom by the furious Théoden.
"All hail our ruler, King Théoden," called out one of his soldiers, and the people bowed to their restored king as he stood in the streets watching the traitorous worm flee the keep. A spark of life seemed to have returned to them, but it was small.
Hopefully they will come out of their own spell, Harry thought, seeing their premature aging and behavior as almost similar to their previously possessed King's. At least the King seemed fired up, looking for a fight.
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AUTHOR: And that's it, my longest chapter so far… Sorry if it got away from Harry and Draco in the end of it, there will be a lot of them in the next one. I needed to show how they got to where they were and establish a new character.
So, did you like? Come on, don't be shy! Reviews are loved and appreciated. I love story alerts and favorites just as much, though!
Next Chapter:
Book Two Chapter 11: The Coming and What Comes After…