A New Place, A New Love
Author's note: Thank you to everyone who is still with this story. I love this story dearly and will continue to update it when I can. I hope you enjoy
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or most of the dialogue. I am using the screenplay from the LOTR movies as a reference and therefore the credit goes to them.
Chapter 11
They had been running in pursuit of a track that only Aragorn could see for days now. They barely rested or stopped, but they were gaining on Merry and Pippin. Aragorn had spotted a broach a few hours back and they were currently heading north east towards Isengard. As they approached what remained of a camp, Minerva could smell the distinct iron twinge of blood in the air.
As they were getting closer, the sound of horses running made the group of four hide within the tree line. Horsemen rode across the expanse, and Aragorn seemed to recognize them, or at least where they came from.
"Riders of Rohan, what news from the Mark?" Aragorn asked.
While Minerva was confident that they were the good guys, when they surrounded the group and held them at spear point, she couldn't help but grasp her wand tightly.
"What business do an elf, a man, a woman, and a dwarf have in the Riddermark? Speak quickly," the main rider said briskly.
"Give me your name and I shall give you mine," Gimli countered.
"I would cut your head off, dwarf, if it stood a little higher," he spoke again after dismounting his horse.
Legolas and Minerva were quick to point their weapons in his direction.
"I wouldn't if I were you," Minerva said threateningly.
"You would die before your sword fell!" Legolas added.
Aragorn is the one to calm them all down.
"I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. This is Gimli, son of Glòin, Legolas of the Woodland realm, and Minerva McGonagall. We are friends of Rohan and of Théoden, your king."
"Théodan no longer recognizes friend from foe. Not even his own kin," the rider says while taking off his helmet.
This prompts the other riders to drop their spears.
"Saruman had poisoned his mind and claimed lordship over these lands. Those you see here are loyal to Rohan, which we were banished for. The White Wizard is cunning. He walks here and there, they say, as an old man, hooded and cloaked. His spies slip past our nets everywhere," Eomer says skeptically, as if wondering if there were those very spies.
"We are not spies. We track a party of Uruk-hai westward across the plain. Two of our friends were taken by them," Aragorn tells him.
"We slaughtered the Uruks during the night," Eomer says shaking his head.
"What about two hobbits?" Gimli asked.
"They would be small – only children to your eyes," Aragorn implored.
"None were left alive. We piled the carcasses and burned them," Eomer gesture to smoke in the distance.
"Dead?" Gimli said shakily.
"I am sorry," Eomer nodded before calling forth two horses and offering them to the group, "look for your friends, but don't trust to hope. We ride north!"
The riders then left in their desired direction. Aragorn and Minerva climb onto a horse as Legolas and Gimli, rather reluctantly do the same. They ride over to the source of the smoke. Everyone starts to dig through the ash, and when Gimli finds a belt belonging to one of the hobbits, their worst fears are almost confirmed. Minerva bows her head, but a frustrated scream from Aragorn makes her look up.
She is about to comfort him when he speaks, "A hobbit lay here, and the other."
He begins to reenact the actions taken by the hobbits to match the tracks in the mud. Soon, they are following the tracks into Fangorn Forest. As they walk through the forest cautiously, they listen to the groaning of the trees.
"The trees can groan?" Minerva asks quietly.
"Yes." Legolas says, "They were once great creatures, but the dark forces rising have left them miserable."
"They can also move and talk according to the stories," Aragorn supplied.
Simply nodding, Minerva thought about how much different the Whomping Willow would be if it could talk.
"Minerva," Gimli grunted, "I hear you can become a feline of sorts."
Laughing, she focused and soon a pop echoed through the trees and the small tabby continued to walk amongst the group. All three were awestruck, even Aragorn and Legolas were having trouble understanding it for a second time. She quickly turned back into her human form and smiled at their confused looks.
"How do you do that?" Legolas finally spoke up.
"Where I am from, there is something called an animagus. To become an animagus, which few wizards or witches have, one must study and practice for years to master the transformation. If one is able to successfully complete the mentally and physically strenuous tasks, they can transform into a single animal without a spell. When I began the process, I had a fondness for felines, and I happened to become a small tabby cat."
She finished her explanation and was instantly assaulted by questions.
"How long can you hold the form?" Legolas asked.
"Can you pick the creature you will turn into?" Gimli shouted.
"So you can transform without any prompting?" Aragorn chimed in.
Thinking about how much they reminded her of Hogwarts first years, Minerva simply held her hand up and waited for them to stop asking questions.
"I can hold the form for as long as I want as long as I can concentrate enough to transform back. In a way, you can pick your animal, but it's more of a subconscious decision on your part. I just have to focus a bit on the transformation process and then do the same when I want to change back," she answered all of them.
"That is an impressive talent," Aragorn smiled.
"It came in handy during wars in my world. I was usually tasked with surveillance duties, and cats can go practically anywhere without being noticed," she said, "I also got away quickly when things got a bit tricky."
They continued to ask her questions about her world and her magic, but they stopped when Legolas noticed the uneasiness among the trees. He began talking to Aragorn in elvish, and the tone of the conversation was not good.
"The White Wizard approaches," Legolas says worriedly.
"Do not let him speak. He will put a spell on us all," Aragorn warns as he tightens his grip on his sword, "We must be quick."
As they charge at the white figure, Aragorn drops his red hot sword and they are blinded by a bright light emanating from the figure.
"You are tracking the footsteps of two young hobbits," he spoke and there was something familiar about his voice.
"Where are they?" Aragorn yelled.
"They passed this way the day before last. They met someone they did not expect. Does that appease you?"
"Who are you? Show yourself!" Aragorn says, finally fed up with the waiting.
The bright light dies and leaves Gandalf standing in white robes. Questions and explanations were flying around, but Minerva was numb. He was back? She heard some of his explanation and something came to her. Is he immortal? Of course he is. Minerva believed it to be just her luck that she gets a second chance only to realize that it would not be a normal chance. One of them could be doomed to outlive the other.
He had fought the Balrog, fought through darkness and eternity and was back. It was all magic she was unfamiliar with, but it granted him life again. Life as Gandalf the White and for that she was thankful. She could forget about the implications for now. It would be a conversation for another day when they didn't have hobbits to find, an army to fight and another dark lord to destroy.
Slowly approaching him, she placed a hand on his cheek and stared into his eyes.
"You're alive," she whispered, "I didn't think I would ever see you again."
"I will always fight to see you again, my love," he said gingerly while opening his arms for an embrace.
She instantly fell into his open arms and let herself take in everything. He was okay. Without letting go of her, Gandalf tells them of their next mission.
"War has come to Rohan. We must ride to Edoras with all speed."
As they make it to the tree line, Gandalf lets out a piercing whistle and soon a white horse is seen approaching them.
"That is one of the Hearas, unless I am mistaken," Legolas deduces.
"Shadowfax," Gandalf says as the steed stops in front of him, "He's the lord of all horses and he has been my friend through many dangers."
Gandalf mounts Shadowfax before offering Minerva his hand. Helping her up, Gandalf settles her in front of him and waits for the others to mount their horses as well. Soon, they are riding off towards Rohan. Minerva is taken aback by the sheer beauty of a land torn apart by orcs and Saruman. Shadowfax cuts across the plains with an astounding speed and grace, and she soon realizes that the horse knows these beautiful landscapes and needs no direction from Gandalf.
Taking a deep breath, she turns a bit to face Gandalf as best she can.
"I missed you terribly," she says, "I would appreciate it if you did not partake in any more stunts like that."
Gandalf tightens his arm around her waist and pulls her closer. He doesn't speak for a while, and when he does, she can hear the regret in his voice.
"I never meant for that to happen, my love," looking down at her he continues, "I should have explained my reservations about the Mines of Moria, but there were details of the mines that obviously were not known by Gimli. I was hoping to avoid that part of the journey, however choices had to be made and I paid the price. My intentions were never to hurt any of you, especially not the person I love."
Minerva had tears in her eyes as she was reminded of the series of events that led to the Balrog incident. Leaning her head back against his chest, she listened to him breath and took a real moment to accept the fact that he was here.
"We don't blame you, Gandalf. How could we blame the person who sacrificed himself for us? Yes, we were angry, and the hobbits still are, but the object of our anger was never you. The Balrog and the orcs were the cause for the hatred. We thought they had taken you from us in that moment, but don't you think for a minute that any of us could ever hate you or be angry with you. I do love you, but I am not the only one with love for you, you goofy old wizard."
She smiled and let out a little chuckle as she thought about the hobbits' stories of his antics, specifically his fireworks. He chuckled along with her and placed a kiss on the top of her head.
"I'm not sure where I would be right not without you, Minerva."
They rode on throughout the day and only decided to stop when the night was so dark they could not see in front of them. Aragorn and Legolas had found wood and kindling to make a fire as Gimli, Minerva and Gandalf made camp. Gimli had insisted on making the fire, but after 30 minutes of him struggling to produce a flame, the group was starting to get irritated.
Checking to make sure Gimli was sufficiently occupied by his task, Minerva pulled out her wand. She couldn't send flames at the wood pile, as he would surely know what had happened. Thinking about her options, Minerva decided to enchant the wood as he sent another spark towards the kindling. The spark masked the small flicker of magic that she sent towards it, and quickly flames leapt from the kindling to lick at the logs of wood.
"Ah ha!" Gimli leapt to his feet, "And that lads, is how the flames of warmth are created from persistence and the hard work of a dwarf!"
They all looked at Minerva as she simply shrugged and smiled at a prideful Gimli. Soon they were all eating and talking about plans for the days to come. There seemed to be one clear goal in everyone's mind, but the way to carry out this goal was not as clear. Their conversation soon turned to simpler topics. Old war stories and rivalries were the jokes of the hour. Gandalf and Minerva were laughing to themselves as Gimli and Legolas played a game of "who's better than whom" while Aragorn served as the referee.
"It's nice to see everyone laughing in times like these," Gandalf whispered in her ear.
She nodded and took his hand in hers. These were times that she had treasured with the Order as well. They could always count on the Marauders to keep them all oblivious to the outside world for a while. Later on, the moments of oblivion became fewer and farther between until there really were none left. She hoped this group could hold onto them for a little longer than the Order.
"I could fall more enemies than an elf!" Gimli exclaimed after Legolas made a comment about elves' abilities.
"Here they go again," Aragorn sighed as he took a seat next to Gandalf and Minerva.
Gandalf suddenly turned to Aragorn and gestured for him to follow the wizard off to the side. They quickly excused themselves from Minerva's company and were soon immersed in a serious conversation. They were obviously talking about the war, she could tell by the way they both tensed up as soon as they started talking. There was something that Gandalf knew about the war that none of them did, and like Albus, the information was held only by those that absolutely needed to know.
By the time those two were finished with their conversation, Aragorn knew of his role and the rest of the group had fallen asleep. In the morning, they rode again until they reached Edoras. Gandalf talked to them about the king, whose mind is now under Sauron's control, and warned that they would not be welcomed here. Minerva listened to what was said and deduced that the king must be under something similar to the Imperius curse.
"You'll find more cheer in a graveyard," Gimli commented as they proceeded through the gate and up the hill.
They reach the doors of the Golden Hall, but before they can enter, a man stops them.
"I cannot allow you before the king so armed, Gandalf Greyhame. By order of Gríma Wormtongue."
Gandalf nods, but makes eye contact with Minerva, silently telling her not to completely disarm. They follow his lead and drop swords, knives, arrows, and axes.
"Your staff," the man gestures towards Gandalf.
"Wouldn't part an old man from his walking stick," Gandalf scoffed innocently.
Minerva rolls her eyes at his subtle hint of his false fragility. That man was anything but unable. Within seconds, they are in front of a man who is dressed as a king, but is in a physical and mental state that resembles the Longbottoms.
"My lord, Gandalf the Grey is coming," Wormtongue whispers into the king's ear.
The five advance further into the hall as the guards behind them lock the doors. Minerva was cautious of the situation as she surveyed the scene in front of her.
"The courtesy of your hall is absent as of late, Théoden king," Gandalf spoke to the empty vessel of a man.
Minerva heard Wormtongue whisper "He's not welcome" to the king and watched as the man echoed the sentiment.
"Why should I welcome you, Gandalf Stormcrow?"
"A just question, my liege," Wormtongue approves.
As the snake of a man continues to talk, Minerva could see that Gandalf was becoming irritated with the man.
"Be silent," Gandalf commanded, "Keep your forked tongue behind your teeth. I have not fought death to speak to the likes of you."
"His staff," Wormtongue said worriedly, "I told you to take the wizard's staff."
The men around them charged to attack, but Minerva was ready. As Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli engaged some of the guards in a fist fight, she quickly used Petrificus Totalius on them one by one. Within a minute, they were all frozen in place. Gandalf at this point had already made his way to the throne and was currently trying to free the king.
As they watched Gandalf attempt to free the king, a few more guards entered the throne room. Instead of directing individual spells at the approaching men, Minerva decided to cast a modified Protego to keep the men out but unharmed. They walked straight into the invisible field and bounced off. Gimli let out a triumphant laugh before giving her a thumps up. A few seconds later, Minerva and Gimli notice Gríma attempting to crawl away from the scene. Shaking his head towards her raised wand, Gimli walks towards the pathetic excuse for a man.
"I've got this one," he says as he plants a firm foot on Gríma's back, "I would stay still unless you want her to have a piece of you as well."
Aragorn smirks as Gríma's eyes flash with fear at the idea of dealing with Minerva. Their attention is drawn to Gandalf as he throws back his old cloak and the same blinding light that halted them in the forest returns.
"I will draw you, Saruman, as poison is drawn form a wound," Gandalf points his staff towards the possessed king.
Aragorn watches as Eowyn runs to her uncle's aid, only to be stopped by the invisible wall Minerva had erected moments ago. All attention is drawn to Théoden as Saruman's voice erupts from the frail sickly figure.
"If I go… Théoden dies."
Théoden is forced to the back of the chair as Gandalf approaches him, "You did not kill me, you will not kill him."
"Rohan is mine!" Saruman's voice persists as it tries to stay in control.
"Be gone!" Gandalf strikes him back as Théoden lunges for him.
Théoden is again thrown to the back of the throne, but there is an immediate change in him. Minerva lowers the Protego Charm as the king slumps forward and groans. She sees a young woman with blonde hair rush forward to his aid. The king recognizes her, and Minerva realizes there is no longer a need to stay on the offensive. She walks up next to Gandalf and gently touches his arm, hoping to convey how glad she is to have him back in a single touch.
"Gandalf?" Théoden asks, still a bit weak.
"Breathe the free air again, my friend," Gandalf smiles as he reaches to take Minerva's hand in his. He understood that small touch.
"Dark have been my dreams of late," the king says as life seems to breathe into him bit by bit.
"Your fingers will remember your strength with the guidance of your sword," Gandalf gestured for the king's sword to be brought to him.
As Théoden keeps his grasp on the hilt of his sword, Gimli keeps his foot on the attempted escapee. Gríma is now shaking with fear as the man he once helped manipulate grabs him with suddenly renewed strength. He was unceremoniously thrown out of the castle and hit every step on the way down to flat ground. Gríma makes an attempt to plead for mercy that would have failed if not for Aragorn's words.
"Enough blood has been spilled on his account, my lord."
He was right. Just looking around the area and taking in the words of the riders from earlier, Minerva could tell this kingdom was barely more than a town now. As the king is welcomed back to health by his subject, he asks the question that everyone was dreading.
"Where is Théodred? Where is my son?"
The smile of curiosity is quickly replaced with grim realization as he looks upon their faces. He son was gone.
TBC…