And In The Darkness Bind Them
Chapter 12
"Draco, Draco."
"Where are you?" Draco whispered. He was in Malfoy Manor, running along one of the many corridors he'd played in as a child, but it was night and the place was empty. And yet he was sure he'd heard his mother calling.
"I'm coming, Mother," he called. "Just tell me where you are!"
"Draco," he heard a woman whisper. A noise behind him, and he turned around.
Bellatrix Lestrange was watching him from a window-seat, wand in her lap.
"Who are you looking for, Draco?" she asked, sounding almost innocent. Draco wasn't fooled.
"Where is she? What have you done with her?" he snarled, drawing his wand.
"She's not here, Draco. No one's here any more," Bellatrix sighed. "Dead Manor for a dead family, abandoned, empty, gone. Not yours any more, not anyone's. No Malfoys left, not a single one. The Black widow's gone to ground."
"Where is she?" Draco screamed at her. "What did you do to her?"
Bellatrix threw back her head and laughed. "I? I did nothing, Draco. She's gone where I can't follow now. And your place isn't here any more. You need to look behind you."
Draco spun round, and he wasn't in the Manor any more, he was in a cave, a great cavern with ornately carved pillars supporting the roof, and a great chasm cutting across the floor, only a narrow stone bridge crossing it. One lone robed figure stood on the bridge, a robed figure with bushy hair that could only be one person.
"Hermione," Draco breathed, rushing to the foot of the bridge. She seemed utterly emotionless, and her skin seemed pale, far paler than it ought to be and with a grey tinge despite the firelight.
"Too late, Draco," she said, her voice flat and dull. "The Watcher in the Water took Luna, and took our hearts with her. An Orc arrow took Ginny in the Hall of Records, and the Balrog will take me here. Harry's alone in the world now, and when one of them betrays him, what do you think he will do? He will not survive Mordor alone."
"Hermione, HERMIONE!" Harry screamed from behind him, and Draco turned to see Aragorn and Boromir dragging the screaming boy away, his face filthy and his glasses crooked, one lens shattered. Draco turned back to see a horde of Orcs and a giant fire demon with a whip of flame. One crack of the whip and it had wrapped itself around Hermione's waist, starting to burn into her robes. Hermione didn't react, not even as the whip tightened, the bridge crumbled beneath her and she fell into the flames.
"No!" shouted Draco, and he ran forward to try and save her, but it was too late, she was gone, and then the very ground was crumbling beneath his feet and he too was falling, falling...
Until he landed, hitting the ground and finding himself on top of the Astronomy Tower at Hogwarts, Dumbledore before him and unarmed.
"Draco, Draco, you are not a killer," he said, arms outstretched. "You do not have to do this."
"I do," Draco whispered, "I do, he's got my mother, he'll kill her if I don't!" Dumbledore shook his head.
"I can protect your mother, Draco, I can take her to a safe house right now if you only lay down your wand and join us. Draco, there is a better way, if you will only take it."
"She's my mother," Draco whispered, tears rolling down his face. "She's all I have. I can't..."
"I will protect her," Dumbledore promised. "But you must let this go, Draco!"
"Do you promise she's safe?" Draco asked. Dumbledore nodded. Draco sank to his knees and offered up his wand. "Take it. They're coming. You'll need it."
A hand took the wand from him, but the voice that replied was not Dumbledore's.
"Foolish boy, to give up so easily," the voice laughed, and Draco looked up to see another wizard with a staff and long robes that looked white until he moved, and then you could see the shimmering colours that made them up. He plucked Draco's wand from his hand and casually threw it over the side, and they weren't at Hogwarts any more, but on top of another tower entirely, one with a view of what had once been gardens and forest, but was now home to an army.
The wizard laughed and disappeared, and Draco saw a grey-robed figure sitting cross-legged, watching the Orc host below.
"Gandalf," Draco cried, running over to grab the other wizard's shoulder. "Gandalf, help me, he took my wand!"
Gandalf shook his head. "I cannot give it back to you, my child, he has taken my staff too. Saruman is not mine to defeat."
"Then we've lost," said Draco, feeling the helplessness threaten to overwhelm him. "The Fellowship's doomed, my mother's gone, I'm a prisoner and wandless. What can I do?"
Gandalf just smiled. "You will find a way, Draco. For better or worse, your destiny lies here. Do not fear for your mother, she is safe for now. Was she not always the strongest of you all? Was she not always your best supporter and fiercest protector? Do not fear for Narcissa Malfoy – when you need her most, she will find you."
"But she doesn't even know I'm here," Draco cried. Gandalf kept smiling.
"She is your mother, child. She knows."
A shadow fell across them both, and Draco looked up to see a giant eagle blotting out the sky. Shaking, Draco reached out a hand to it, and then the scene changed again, and the eagle's feathers were strange golden leaves on a giant silver tree.
"Where am I?" Draco asked. He knew he'd never seen this place before. Certainly he'd never been on a wooden platform built into a tree like the one he was standing on.
"In the sacred city of Caras Galadhon in the forest of Lothlorien, heart of all Elvendom on Middle Earth," a woman replied.
Draco turned around to see a blonde woman in flowing green robes and a silver circlet on her head seated in one half of a wooden double throne. The other was empty, but kneeling at her feet was a black-clad figure with blonde hair pinned back in a bun that Draco recognised all too well.
"Mother!" Draco cried, rushing to kneel at her side. "Mother, are you alright?"
Narcissa did not respond. Her eyes were only half open and she seemed to be in some sort of trance.
"Mother?" Draco whispered, shaking her shoulder. "Mum?"
"She cannot hear you," the woman on the throne said calmly, and now Draco was close up, he could see she was an Elf. "She is waiting for her prince."
Draco ignored her. "Mother, I'm here, I've come to get you, please wake up!" He was shaking her shoulder even harder, turning her face to look at him. It was to no avail, Narcissa's eyes were as unseeing as before. Helpless, Draco let her go, her head falling back to staring at the floor.
"Why won't she talk to me? Can't you do anything?"
The Elf shook her head. "It is out of my hands. She is waiting for her prince – she will wake when she finds him. Child, did it ever occur to you that maybe her prince is not you?"
"Not me – but if not me, who? Who else has she got?" Draco cried.
The Elf simply smiled. "It is not for me to say," she replied calmly. "But he will come for her, and she will come for you."
"I don't understand," said Draco, confused. "Who will come?" The Elf smiled and began to fade away, and to Draco's horror, so was his mother.
"Mother!" he cried, reaching for her, but his hand only passed through her. "Mother, no, come back, MOTHER!"
"Mother, Mother, no, come back, MOTHER!" Draco screamed as he woke, nearly sitting upright. The figure that had been leaning over him moved back with reflexes that weren't entirely human.
"Be still, Draco, it was just a dream," said Elrond gently. Draco slowly looked around the room to see Arwen standing behind him with a lantern in hand, and a few other Elves of the household lurking in the corridor beyond.
"I woke the entire house, didn't I," said Draco, feeling himself blushing. Elrond smiled.
"Be at peace, Draco, we have sharp hearing and do not need as much sleep as you anyway. Arwen, would you...?" Arwen nodded and, placing the lantern by Draco's bed, ushered everyone else away before joining her father.
"Draco, will you not tell us what troubles you? The Fellowship have only been gone six days and this is the fifth time you have woken screaming. The dreams must be strong ones, but we cannot help you if you won't tell us what they are!" said Arwen.
"You heard me before?" Draco asked, surprised. This was the first time he'd woken up to find Elves surrounding him. Arwen nodded.
"As I said, we have sharp hearing," said Elrond. "Many among us have heard and have whispered, but I also know mortals like privacy and you are prouder than most. I wished to wait until you came to me yourself, but tonight you seemed particularly distressed and Arwen came to my room and begged me to intervene."
"It's the first time I really remembered it clearly," said Draco, shivering at the memory. "Before, I just remembered bad things happening to everyone, especially Mum."
Arwen looked away at this. "I still have dreams like that about my Nana sometimes too. But it helps waking up and knowing she's safe and no one can hurt her any more."
Elrond's eyes darkened briefly, but he was looking away from Arwen and she did not see it. "Did you want to tell me what exactly happened?" he asked. "If this dream has come before, it may be important."
Seeing he was not going to get out of this one, Draco told them of the dream he'd had. The two Elves listened sympathetically as he told of seeing Bellatrix in the Manor, with sadness as he told of Hermione being killed, interest as he recounted the two towertop conversations, and then astonishment as he told of being in Lorien.
"Grandnana!" Arwen cried as he described the Elf he'd seen.
"You know her?" Draco asked, before realising what a stupid question that was – a small society composed of ageless immortals, of course they all knew each other.
"Lady Galadriel of the Golden Wood," Elrond confirmed. "The single most powerful Elf in Middle Earth... and my mother-in-law."
Draco didn't envy him there. "That can't be easy for you."
"It has had its occasional problems," Elrond replied with a small smile.
"Grandada Celeborn doesn't think Ada was good enough for Nana," Arwen whispered conspiratorially.
"Arwen," Elrond warned. "Less of that – Lorien and Rivendell are friends and sworn allies against Mordor, and I have nothing but the highest respect and affection for Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn."
Draco merely glanced at Arwen and repressed a giggle at the knowing smile on her face. Elrond, if he had noticed, chose to ignore it.
"Tell me more of what happened, you say Galadriel had your mother in her care."
"That's right, but she was just kneeling there in a trance, she didn't even know I was there. I begged Galadriel to let her go, but she just told me Mother was waiting for her prince, that she'd wake when he found her, and that it wasn't me, it was someone else. And when he found her, they'd both find me. Elrond, what does any of it mean?" Draco hoped Elrond would be able to make more sense of it than he currently was.
"I do not know, but I am most intrigued that you are dreaming of places you have never been to and people you have never met. That you met Gandalf on top of Isengard tower is not a surprise – you knew he'd been held prisoner there, you heard it at the council. But for you to dream of Lorien and the Lady Galadriel, that is unusual." Elrond stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Draco, I don't believe she actually has your mother with her at Lorien, but I am wondering if maybe it is a sign that the answer to your dream lies there."
"Grandnana's Mirror!" Arwen cried. "You can see all sorts in that if she lets you – it might show you if your mother's alive and well or not."
"It might," said Elrond thoughtfully. "But you would need to go there first. Draco, the sense I am getting from this dream is that you are not meant to save your mother, that it isn't your place. Your aunt telling you she's not at your family home, your headmaster promising to take care of her, Gandalf telling you your destiny is here and that Narcissa will find you, it all says to me that you don't need to go home for her sake. I think she is safe and I think you will see her again, maybe sooner than you think. I cannot tell you what to do, but I am starting to wonder if perhaps you should have gone with the Fellowship after all."
The Fellowship. Draco remembered Hermione telling him of deaths past and betrayals future before falling to her own doom, and shivered.
"Do you really think they'll all be killed if I'm not there?" he whispered. "Is there really a traitor in their midst?"
Elrond shook his head. "I do not know, Draco. Indeed, I am inclined to think that part of your dream more a reflection of guilt and worry on your part than any indication of future events."
"But if you're worried, you could still go after them," said Arwen. "It's only been a week, if we lent you a horse, you could catch them before they cross the mountains."
"And Lorien is on their road, if you wanted to seek out the Lady Galadriel for advice, it would go far better for you if you were in the company of known Elf-friends," said Elrond.
Draco could feel his heart sinking. After all he'd done trying to avoid dangerous quests, here was his own subconscious betraying him. Thanks for nothing, subconscious.
"Can I at least think about it?" he asked. Elrond smiled and got to his feet.
"Take as much time as you need, but know that if you intend to go after the Fellowship, you need to make your mind up within two days. If you tarry any longer, you will not catch them before they cross the Misty Mountains, and then it will be too late."
Two weeks, or was it three? Ginny had long ago lost count. All she knew was that she'd spent the entire time cold and tired and hungry, and she was beginning to wonder whether Draco hadn't had the right idea after all. The terrain was hard and unforgiving, and many times they'd had to detour round swamps and crevasses. They were travelling by night to avoid detection and Ginny had long ago lost any sense of where they were actually going.
"Hermione," Ginny whispered. "Are we lost?"
Hermione shook her head. "No, I don't think so, Gandalf and Aragorn both look fairly confident. Why?"
"Oh good. I'm glad someone knows where we're going, because I don't."
"We've been over this," said Hermione tersely. "We're staying this side of the Misty Mountains for as far as possible, because people don't come this way and no one will think to look for us here."
"I can't imagine why," Ginny muttered.
"And then," Hermione continued, "we're going to cross the mountains at the Redhorn Pass and then things should get easier. Does that answer your question?" She pulled her cloak around her, huddled to keep warm and clearly indicating this conversation was over.
"Just because you memorised every map in Rivendell," Ginny muttered. She quickened her own pace, not wishing to be left behind, and not for the first time wished Gandalf hadn't banned magic except in battle conditions. Apparently Sauron could probably detect it, and even if he couldn't, Saruman would likely know and use it to track them.
One warming charm. Just one. I just want to feel my feet again...
Up ahead, everyone else seemed to have come to a stop. The sky was getting lighter too, which meant it must be nearly dawn. Ginny broke into a run and caught up with the rest of the Fellowship.
"What's up?" she asked Harry.
"I think we're here," said Harry, throwing back his hood and drinking in the light of the rising sun as it crept over the mountains to their left. They'd reached a ridge covered in holly trees, and before them, the terrain stretched away, sloping gently upwards until it reached the mountains ahead, where the Misty Mountains swept to the south-west.
"But where's here?" Ginny asked.
"Here, young Ginevra, is the land of Hollin as Men call it, but in days past, it was the home to Elves and they called it Eregion," said Gandalf, surveying the land before him and looking satisfied.
"Eregion – that's where Sauron learnt how to make rings, isn't it?" said Hermione, recalling what Elrond had said at the Council. All four children shivered at the thought.
"It is," said Gandalf. "But do not let the memory frighten you – many good and wholesome things also came out of Eregion before war came and its people scattered. And no land where Elves have once dwelt is ever entirely lost for good."
"Elves?" Gimli snorted. "Yes, Elves called this land home once, but long before that, the Dwarves were here and ever have they held this place in their hearts." He indicated three mountain peaks in the distance, one of which gleamed red in the dawn light. "Barazinbar, the Redhorn, Caradhras to the Elves. Zirakzigil or Silvertine, Celebdil the White Mountain; and Bundushathur, also known as Cloudyhead or Fanuidhol the Grey. All Dwarves know those peaks – they are in our songs and stories, works of metal and stone; they are part of our very dreams. For on the other side is the vale of Azanulbizar, the Dimrill Dale in your tongue, called Nanduhirion by the Elves, and beneath them lies Khazad-dum, the Dwarrowdelf, heart of our people, the greatest city we ever built. We were driven out many years ago, and now it is forsaken, called only the Black Pit, or Moria as the Elves say. I did not even dream that one day I might lay eyes on these peaks in person."
"If all goes well, you shall see them closer still, and the Dimrill Dale as well," said Gandalf. "We will take the pass on the far side of Caradhras, the Redhorn Gate, and then down the Dimrill Stair into the Dimrill Dale itself, where the Silverlode has its spring. From there, we follow the Silverlode into the secret woods, and then make our way to the Great River."
"And then?" Boromir asked, and there was a strange look in his eyes as he spoke.
"To the end of the journey," said Gandalf, and for the first time there was a hesitation in his voice as if he himself was not sure where the road would take them after that. "But we should not get ahead of ourselves. Let us be glad the first stage is over, and make camp. I think we will be able to rest, not just today, but tonight too."
That news was a joy to everyone's ears and they swiftly made camp in a small hollow on the other side of the ridge. There was even a fire for once, and everyone was in a good mood... everyone aside from Legolas and Aragorn.
"Legolas, is everything alright?" Harry asked. The Elf was being uncharacteristically quiet.
"I'm not sure," said Legolas uncertainly. "Gandalf spoke of this being a former Elven kingdom, and I remember stories of the days of Celebrimbor. But they were never Wood Elves, they were of the Noldor, and the trees do not remember them. The stones, they remember, I can still hear the lament. But were it not for that, there would be no sign Elves had ever lived here and that troubles me." He turned to Aragorn. "You feel it too, don't you?"
Aragorn got to his feet. "It's not what I feel, it's what I'm not hearing." He left the camp and ran to the top of the ridge, listening intently. Everyone else fell quiet as they watched the Ranger survey the landscape.
"Aragorn?" Hermione called. "What have you seen?"
"Nothing," came the answer as Aragorn leapt down to join them again, his face grim. "That is the problem. I have been through Hollin many times, and it has been empty for as long as anyone can remember. Neither Man nor Elf or Dwarf has lived here for hundreds of years. But the beasts and the birds, they care not for that and there are plenty here in every season. Not today, it seems. There is not a sound anywhere aside from the ones we are making, and I like it not."
The campsite fell quiet as everyone listened, and sure enough, the air was still and silent.
"Should we move on?" Ginny whispered. "Is it safe here?"
"As to that, Ginevra, it is not safe anywhere," Gandalf replied, his voice also quiet and low. "But I do not think we are in immediate danger, and we are all weary. Still, let us have the fire put out and all the gear packed so that we can move swiftly if need be. Then let us set a watch and to bed. We may need to move tonight after all."
This was done, and Harry took the first watch, Aragorn joining him. Once the others had fallen asleep, the silence became truly oppressive. Even the sound of their breathing seemed loud. And then Harry noticed what looked like a cloud to the south.
"Aragorn," he whispered, nudging the Ranger in the side. Aragorn looked up and his eyes widened as he realised the dark patch in the sky was getting bigger and making straight for them.
"Get down and stay still," Aragorn hissed, grabbing Harry's shoulder and diving underneath one of the holly bushes. As the 'cloud' got closer, Harry could see it wasn't a cloud, but a giant flock of birds circling over the land, drawing steadily nearer. As it passed nearby, some of the birds detached and flew low, directly over them. Harry closed his eyes, curling up in a ball next to Aragorn, who was as still as only a Ranger could be. Finally, they were gone.
"What were they?" Harry whispered.
"Crows, and not ones native to here either; they are from the South," said Aragorn grimly. "I think they may be spies."
When Gandalf heard of this, he seemed to share Aragorn's opinion, and the result was that they ended up travelling again that night. There was no question of a fire now, and the Fellowship took care to hide during the day. Worse, the weather began to turn again as the East Wind returned and the temperature dropped, with dark stormclouds gathering by the third morning, as they halted at the foot of Caradhras.
"I do not like the look of that sky," said Boromir. "Gondor is not a cold country, but she has mountains, and the weather can turn treacherous in a single morning. Is there no way we can delay the crossing? I fear for our safety trying to cross the mountains if a storm is about to break."
"There is no other mountain pass save this one until we reach the Gap of Rohan, a journey many miles out of our way," Aragorn replied. "And with Saruman turning traitor, I fear to take the Ring close to him. If Saruman has spies this far north, he will not have fewer of them closer to home. It is take the Redhorn Gate or not cross at all."
"Then we should gather wood for the crossing," Boromir sighed, getting to his feet. "It will serve us little to be so stealthy we freeze to death."
All agreed that this was a good idea, and so the Fellowship dispersed to gather firewood. Harry noticed Aragorn and Gandalf remaining behind, and so he lingered, hoping to eavesdrop. It was clear Gandalf had something on his mind.
"Are you still so committed to the Redhorn Gate, Aragorn? Boromir speaks truth – there is bitter weather ahead. I have already spoken to you of the risk of being seen and waylaid, but a storm would be worse still."
"You have said it yourself, there is no safe path," said Aragorn. "But we cannot turn back, and there is no other way save this one."
"And I have also said to you that is not so. Have you given no thought to the other path I spoke of?"
"I have given plenty of thought, and all were dark and fearful," Aragorn replied, the genuine fear in his voice surprising Harry. He hadn't thought there was much could frighten Aragorn, and didn't want to face something that did. Fortunately, Gandalf seemed to give in.
"Very well, we shall take the Redhorn. But if it proves impassable, or we have to turn back, we may have no choice."
Shivering, Harry slipped away to gather firewood. A choice between snow-bound mountain passes and a way so frightening Aragorn refused to even think about it. He was not looking forward to this.
They set out that evening, but while the going was good at first, the snow soon began to fall, slowly at first, but then increasingly heavily, the wind howling around them as it started to settle. Soon they were nearly knee-deep in it.
"As I feared," said Gandalf. "What do you think to this way now, Aragorn?"
"We all feared this," said Aragorn. "But I feared it less than other things, and it is rare to find snow this heavy so far South. We are not even high up yet, the paths here are usually open all winter."
"So it is not natural then," said Boromir grimly. "Some contrivance of Sauron, perhaps?"
"It doesn't need to be Sauron's doing to be evil," said Legolas, looking up at the mountainside. "Caradhras was always called the cruel, and is no friend to Elves."
Harry looked at the three girls, huddled together and shivering, even Luna looking utterly desolate and frozen, and wondered why on earth Legolas hadn't said this sooner. Natural snowfall was bad enough, a cursed mountain intent on thwarting them was something else entirely. Still, it wasn't as if they had much choice.
They continued on but the storm only got worse as snowfall turned into a full-on blizzard. Harry overcame his reticence over physical contact with the girls and huddled next to Ginny for warmth. Ginny slipped her arms underneath his cloak with a swiftness which might have been cause for alarm under other circumstances, but Harry was too cold to care. Up ahead, Hermione was leaning on Luna's shoulder, clinging on to the other girl for all she was worth.
"Come on, Hermione, you can do it," Luna called to her, straining to be heard above the howling wind. Hermione didn't answer, just choking and sobbing as her legs gave way and she collapsed.
"Can't!" she howled. "Can't do this, I'm cold! Just want to lie down and rest for a bit, please..." She began to lie down, at least until Luna grabbed her and hauled her upright.
"No, you can't, if you lie down here, you'll never get up again," said Luna, shaking her to keep her awake. "Harry, help me, we need fire, she's going to freeze."
Ginny had already thrown down her bundle of wood and was busy adding Hermione's to the pile.
"Incendio!" The fire leapt up, and the darkness seemed to recede. But Gandalf had spun round and was pushing past Aragorn and Boromir, his face a mask of wrath.
"What are you doing, I said no magic! You've just announced your presence to every pair of eyes from Lindon to Anduin!"
"Hermione's near frozen, she couldn't make it any further!" Harry snapped back. "We need to get her warm, Gandalf, and how else are we meant to get a fire going in this?"
"He speaks truth," Gimli said, looking at the fire and nodding at Ginny, clearly impressed. "We Dwarves can get a fire going in nearly any weather, but I would have struggled in this storm."
"Have mercy, Gandalf, these children are frozen," said Boromir, taking in the four pale, pathetic figures huddled round the fire. "We cannot expect them to go any further in this – Hermione looks more dead than alive."
Gandalf softened, and joined them at the fire. "Well, if any enemy can get through this, they would have found us without magic too. We are all weary, let us rest and see if the storm abates."
The storm did not abate – in fact it got worse. There was no question of going on either – the pass ahead was wide open and exposed to the elements; it would be suicide to even try. All they could do was keep the fire going and wait for the storm to pass. By dawn, they'd used the last of the wood... but dawn brought with it a slowing of the wind and a temporary end to the snowfall. The sky still held the promise of plenty more to come though.
"We are out of wood and not even halfway over," said Boromir. "And there is more snow to come. We cannot stay here, Gandalf."
"Agreed," sighed Gandalf. "Caradhras has beaten us. I feared it would be thus. We will have to return and find another way."
Easier said than done – their way back was blocked by snowdrifts many feet high.
"No one packed a spade, did they?" Ginny asked hopefully. No one had. Transfiguring one was also not an option – they had nothing to transfigure and their best Transfiguration expert was still sitting in a huddle, weakened by the cold and near-hypothermia and not going to be casting anything any time soon.
"Maybe Gandalf could summon flame to melt the snow," said Legolas. Of all of them, the Elf remained stubbornly optimistic, to the extent that more than one of the Fellowship had entertained idle fantasies of pushing the Elf off a precipice if he did not stop being so cheerful.
"Maybe you could fly over the mountains and fetch the Sun to save us," Gandalf grumbled. "I must have something to work with – I cannot burn snow!"
"No," said Harry, "but we could melt it. That is, I think I could, and probably Ginny too, just enough to soften it so someone else could dig us out. We can't do too much though – too much meltwater will just freeze and someone will slip on it."
Boromir slapped him on the back, almost hard enough to knock Harry over. "Young Harry, say no more, I will happily help dig. It will not be far, I think. The snow only started falling heavily when we turned around that shoulder of rock back yonder – it is only a furlong or so, the going may be easier after that."
"It will go all the easier with two," said Aragorn, getting to his feet. "Harry, Ginny, if you'll begin?"
Harry and Ginny aimed their wands and sent twin jets of flame boring into the snow. Boromir and Aragorn waited until it had cooled a little before starting to dig. It was a long and laborious process, and everyone else settled down to wait – everyone but Legolas.
"Let the strong and the magical do what they must," Legolas said, blithely ignoring the annoyed look Gandalf gave him. "I'm going to fetch the Sun!" So saying, he leapt on top the snow and raced over it, barely leaving an imprint as he left them behind, waving at the digging team as he did so.
"Cheeky bugger," Gimli grunted.
"I couldn't have put it better myself," said Gandalf, reaching for his pipe.
"Are we done yet?" Ginny asked, wiping the sweat from her brow. The constant casting was starting to tire her, and Harry wasn't faring much better, although he was trying not to show it.
"Nearly," said Boromir, and even he was near the end of his strength. "That bloody Elf said it wasn't much further."
"But that was a while ago, and this drift is the biggest yet," said Aragorn, almost ready to give in and only stubbornness keeping him going. "I confess I am not sure how we will get past it."
Legolas chose that moment to re-appear, a smile on his face. "I bring good news, my human friends!"
"Did you bring the Sun?" Ginny asked, not even bothering to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. Legolas shook his head.
"Alas, no, She was otherwise engaged warming the Southlands. But I found the next best thing. Stand back, my friends, I found you a dragon!"
Not a single one of them actually believed Legolas had found a real dragon... but at the same time, it was probably best not to take chances. All four of them retreated up the slope to where the other four had picked their way down the path, Hermione supported by Gimli and Luna, and Gandalf behind them, idly smoking his pipe.
"Is there a problem?" Gandalf asked, staring at Legolas.
"He says he's fetched us a dragon," said Boromir. Gandalf took the pipe out of his mouth and stared at Boromir, clearly unconvinced. Boromir just shrugged. "I merely repeat what I was told."
"The son of Thranduil may actually have lost his mind," Gandalf murmured.
"Snow-madness," said Gimli knowingly. "Terrible thing when that happens. I've seen grown Dwarves rip their clothes off and fling themselves into freezing lakes, convinced it's a mountain spa. Never ends well – aaaiiiiee!"
A jet of flame roared into life on the other side of the drift, sending snow flying, heated so fast it evaporated before it hit the ground. Everyone closed their eyes as a wave of heat, gentle by the time it reached them but that must have been scorching when it left its source, buffeted them before subsiding enough for them to look.
Standing at the end of an expertly carved snow tunnel, dressed in borrowed Dunedain travelling gear, a broomstick strapped to his back and a smoking wand in hand, was Draco Malfoy.
For a moment, no one moved or spoke. Draco's smile faded, and his eyes flicked nervously from face to face.
"Er... hello?" he said. "I... was worried you'd run into trouble on the way and thought I'd come check nothing had gone wrong..." He didn't finish the sentence. Boromir strode forward and pulled Draco into a bear hug.
"Draco Malfoy, by all the Valar, it is good to see you again!" Boromir cried, releasing Draco and giving him a pat on the back that nearly caused him to stumble and fall. "It is a most unexpected pleasure to have you join us at last."
"Draco, you came, I so hoped you would!" Luna cried, rushing to give him a hug in turn. She was followed by both Aragorn and Gimli, who, although less effusive in their joy at seeing him again, were no less sincere. Draco turned to look at his fellow wizards and witches.
"Potter, Weasley. Granger. Don't all rush at once."
To his surprise, Harry actually smiled.
"You came all this way just to catch up with us. I'm impressed. Well done... and thank you."
"But if you even so much as look at the Ring, we kill you," Ginny added cheerfully.
"I'm not after the bloody Ring, Weasley, last time I tried to touch it, I got knifed by a Nazgul," said Draco. "Sadly for you, you'll have to restrict your bloodthirsty urges to Orcs." He turned his attention to Hermione, who was strangely quiet. "Granger? Not got the energy for a sarcastic comment?"
"Not really," said Hermione faintly. "It's just I nearly got hypothermia last night, and I really don't think I can stand on my own for much longer." Sure enough, her knees gave way, and she fell to the floor, clutching at Harry, who just about managed to slow her fall. Draco immediately rushed to her side, unshouldering his broom.
"We had best get you off this mountain as soon as possible, I think," he said gently. He released the broom, letting it hover at his side, before reaching out to help her up. The entire Fellowship starting talking at once, mostly variations on "you made your own broomstick?" from the Hogwarts contingent and "what fell wizardry is this?" from Boromir and Gimli. Even Aragorn was a little dubious, and only Legolas and Gandalf did not look surprised. Draco ignored all of them and pulled Hermione to her feet before settling her on the broom. Sliding on behind her, he tapped the ground with his feet and took off, disappearing westward at a speed that, while not putting a Nimbus to shame, had him out of sight in seconds.
"I didn't know Draco knew how to make a broom," Harry whispered, still not over the shock of seeing his rival make it all this way on a home-made broom without mishap.
"Technically, he didn't make it, it's a Rivendell broom that Draco enchanted," said Ginny. "But it is impressive."
"He flew here... the little dragon can fly!" cried Boromir. "Why did he not tell us this back in Rivendell, we could have had flying brooms for us all and be in Gondor by now!"
"It's not that simple," said Luna, falling in behind him as the Fellowship began to pick its way down the mountainside. "You'd need to be a witch or wizard to fly one, and for a journey as far as Gondor is from Rivendell, the person doing the flying would have to be good – it's not something for a novice. Draco's been flying most of his life. Harry and Ginny, they're both good too. But I don't really do it often, and Hermione never does. She and I, we're not up to long journeys, either of us. Essentially, it'd be three brooms at most, each with room for one passenger. It's not enough, Boromir."
Boromir sighed, disappointed. "So my dreams of having him equip an entire battalion with magic brooms to fight Mordor from above are doomed to never be."
"Maybe that is for the best," said Aragorn, sombre. "It is not good for Men to become accustomed to looking down on the world from a great height. It encourages them to see their fellows as insignificant."
"I don't know about Men, but I'll tell you this," said Gimli. "No Dwarf is ever getting on one of those things!"
Harry fell behind to speak with Gandalf.
"You don't look surprised," he said. "Were you expecting him? Did Elrond send word Malfoy was coming?"
Gandalf shook his head. "No, but I did not think for a moment we'd seen the last of young Draco. I have not known him as long as you have, but I am a keen observer of character, and I have had ample chance to observe him at Rivendell. He is insatiably curious, and at the same time believes he is entitled to a share of whatever glory is being handed out. He has been trained all his life to believe in his own natural superiority, yet at the same time is desperate to prove he really deserves the adulation he wants. Harry, he could no more have resisted this than cut off his own arm. Indeed, I believe the only reason he didn't join before was because he didn't want to be seen as merely your follower. He is much like Boromir in that regard – there is a reason he and Draco have bonded the way they have."
"He waited and changed his mind so he could say it was his own idea and he's not just following us," said Harry. It made sense. It made a lot of sense. But it didn't explain everything. "But he wasn't heading home to get out of danger, he was going home to rescue his mother – he knew there'd be fighting no matter which way he chose. Why'd he give up on her? That doesn't make sense, he's devoted to her."
"I do not know, Harry," said Gandalf. "But I think he will tell you if you ask him."
The trudge down the mountain was long and weary, but there was some relief – Draco, after depositing Hermione at the foot of the mountain, returned and offered lifts to all in turn. Luna eagerly accepted, and after a moment's thought, Harry also agreed. Seeing this, Ginny also gave in, and Legolas expressed interest. Gandalf followed, and Aragorn decided it certainly beat walking. Not to be seen as a coward, Boromir agreed to be airlifted, leaving only Gimli remaining. At length, and probably not helped by Draco gliding alongside making gleefully pointed remarks, Gimli gave in and reluctantly allowed Draco to fly him down. The end result was that they were all off the mountain and making camp under the trees by midday. Before settling down to get some sleep, the Fellowship settled in for a quick breakfast and interrogation of their new member.
"Oh god, I'm in SO MUCH PAIN!" Draco cried, desperately massaging his thighs. "I was on that broom for nearly sixteen hours, I'm in agony, I tell you."
"Sixteen hours?" Luna cried. "Draco, did you stop at all after leaving Rivendell?"
"Briefly," Draco replied. "Stopped at about three in the morning in that place with all the holly trees when the wind and the rain started up – must have caught the edge of the storm that hit you. Then got going again at six when it slackened off. Could have got here faster if I'd gone all out, but high speed does strange things to the enchantments so I kept to thirty miles an hour. Left Rivendell last night around eight. Arwen and Elrond said hello, by the way, also I have more miruvor in my pack if anyone wants some."
"I need some," said Gimli faintly. "I cannot get my head around you being in Rivendell last night and catching up with us today!"
Draco smiled and passed a small thimble containing a couple of drops of miruvor to Gimli, who promptly knocked it back and went for a lie down.
"That is some achievement," said Aragorn, impressed. "What prompted the journey?"
"Indeed," said Gandalf, "when last we met, you had your heart set on returning home to find your mother. Why has your plan changed?"
"The dreams," said Draco, his face growing sombre. "Every night, the nightmares, and they were getting worse. Funnily enough, they weren't about Mother – she was fine when she appeared. Indeed, I had about four different people tell me she was safe. But I dreamt of bad things happening to you lot... and I dreamt of meeting Galadriel of Lorien, Arwen's grandmother."
"Galadriel!" Aragorn gasped. "Few mortals have ever laid eyes on her!"
"Arwen and Elrond were surprised too," said Draco. "In the end, Elrond said the dream seemed to be telling me I should go to Lorien and seek her advice. Apparently she has some scrying mirror thing that I might be able to borrow and see if Mum's alright."
"She does indeed," said Gandalf. "But whether she will let you borrow it is another matter entirely. Still, we will be heading in that direction ourselves if we can cross the mountains, it will go better for you if you are with us."
"Funny," Draco grinned, "that's just what Elrond said. Anyway, Arwen offered to lend me a horse, but that didn't really work out too well."
Knowing grins were shared between the Fellowship – even when they'd all been staying at Rivendell with little to do but enjoy Elrond's hospitality, Draco had never really been terribly at ease on horseback and had mostly avoided it.
"So, with no other means of catching up, I resorted to what I know and borrowed a broom off Silanen. It took me nearly a week to get it to fly and a day or two more to work out the niggles and get it ready for a long trip, but I did it eventually. Elrond advised me to fly overnight to avoid being seen, which meant waiting for the full moon to pass so it was still light enough to see by but not so much of a risk of anyone seeing me from the ground. And last night, I finally got going, finding Caradhras a bit after dawn, and what do I see but footsteps in the snow and an Elf trotting across a snow-drift like he's out for a stroll in the park."
"And a joy it was to look on your fair features again, Draco Malfea," said Legolas with a bow, in that manner he had where it was never quite certain whether he meant every word and was merely adopting the usual courtly style of speaking Elves had, or was secretly mocking you. "Long have we mourned your absence from our Company, and many have been the days we lamented that you were not by our sides."
"As to that, I sincerely doubt it," said Draco, casting a glance at Harry and Ginny in particular. "But why don't you bring me up to speed on what happened to you and where you're going next."
This was swiftly done, and Draco listened sombrely as Aragorn told of spies out of Isengard and the cursed storm that had thwarted them on Caradhras.
"I can't fly you over the mountains," said Draco. "It was hard enough fetching you all down one at a time from halfway up there. It could take days to do nine round trips and I don't know how the broom will handle at altitude. And if there's another storm, we'll be in serious trouble – I know I'd have to land in foul weather."
"I was not intending that you should," said Aragorn. "But few are our choices now, and the road ahead I like not. For with Caradhras closed to us, it seems our only choices are taking the Southern route and risking the ire of Saruman, returning to Rivendell to face defeat and worse defeat to come, or to take another road, a dark and dangerous road that even I fear to tread."
"Well, we can't go South," said Harry, reflexively clutching at the Ring, a smouldering anger burning inside him at the mere thought of Saruman trying to take it. "And we can't go back, that's for certain. If there's no other mountain passes, we don't have much choice. What is this dark and dangerous road?"
"It is not pleasant," said Gandalf. "There is a reason I have not spoken of it before – the danger is real, and Aragorn was against it until we had tried the mountain pass. The road that I speak of leads through the Mines of Moria."
"Moria!" Gimli whispered, eyes alive with emotion. He was the only one to seem even remotely pleased – everyone else shivered a little, even the Hogwarts contingent. Draco went a little pale, recalling his former nightmares, and Luna drew her cloak around herself, real fear in her eyes.
"It is a cursed name, and a cursed path you speak of," said Boromir. "If the Gap of Rohan is closed to us, can we not pass west over the Isen into Langstrand and Lebennin and take ship to Gondor from there?"
Gandalf shook his head. "We cannot afford the time – Gondor cannot afford the time. It could take us a year to make that journey, and the spies of the Enemy are everywhere. When you rode North, Boromir, you were one lone wanderer among many. In the Company of the Ring, you are in peril as long as you remain with us. Our plight has become more desperate – indeed, I see little hope if we do not disappear for a while and cover our trail. We should go neither over the mountains, nor around them – at any rate, it is a road the Enemy will not expect us to take."
"We do not know what he expects," said Boromir. "He may watch all roads, likely or not. Walking into Moria would be hardly better than walking into the Dark Tower itself."
"Moria is not the Dark Tower," Gandalf replied. "I alone of any of you have been in the dungeons of the Dark Lord, and then only in his lesser stronghold of Dol Guldur. But I would not lead you into Moria if there were no hope of surviving – I myself have entered and returned to tell the tale. The Orcs of the Misty Mountains were scattered after the Battle of Five Armies – there is a chance that they have not yet returned. There may even be Dwarves there again."
"Dwarves!" Gimli cried. "Gandalf, I will follow you. I would look upon the halls of Durin, even if an army of Orcs awaits us!"
"We cannot know that one doesn't," said Aragorn heavily. "I too have passed beyond the Dimrill Gate before, but the memory is an evil one and I would not return if I could avoid it."
"I'd rather not go at all," said Draco, looking anxiously at the three witches. "But if you are set on this suicide mission, I'm coming with you. You'll need someone with a functioning sense of self-preservation to keep you out of trouble."
All the Company turned in surprise to check Draco really had said those words. Ginny cleared her ears out to check her hearing wasn't blocked.
Luna smiled sadly at him. "That's brave of you, Draco. I don't know if it will help, but it's brave." She turned to look at Gandalf, eyes starting to water. "Oh Gandalf, I cannot like this, but if you think there is no other choice, then I suppose we will have to."
"I'll do it if he's going," said Ginny, pointing at Draco. "I'm not letting it be said he was braver than I was."
"I will follow you where you lead, Gandalf," said Aragorn, his heart heavy. "You followed my lead almost to disaster in the snow and have said no word of blame. Therefore I will follow you even to Moria if you lead us there. But I say this, Gandalf – it is not for the Company I fear but for you! If you cross the doors of Moria, beware!"
"I am not going unless the entire Company is against me," said Boromir.
"I would rather cross Caradhras again than go into Moria," said Legolas, shivering at the thought. "I am of the Silvan Elves, I do not love the underground."
"Harry?" said Hermione. "What do you think? You are Ring-bearer after all."
"I don't know," said Harry. "I mean, we've faced danger before. And Gandalf says there's a chance. But when both Luna and Aragorn are looking as dubious as they are, I have to wonder. Is there any chance we could rest first and make a decision tonight?"
"Sounds like a plan," Draco yawned. "But another idea has come to me. Gandalf said the danger lay with the Ring. I can't fly you all over the mountains, but if we got two more brooms and enchanted them, Harry, Ginny and I could probably fly Luna, Hermione and Gandalf and all our gear over. Without us, the rest of you would be in a lot less danger and could go via the Gap of Rohan. One trip is not as dangerous as having to do it eighteen times, and now I know what I'm doing, I wouldn't need a week to make new brooms if I had something to work with."
"Only one problem," said Ginny scathingly. "Where are we going to get brooms from? We can't make them ourselves from scratch and I'm not trusting my bottom to something that's been Transfigured and might revert back at 12'000 feet in the air if it's not done right."
"Easy, Weasley," Draco drawled. "We head for the settlement a few miles west of here. I saw it last night as I flew over. Didn't look that far, and if it comes to it, I could fly one of us out there to pick brooms and other supplies up. What?" Aragorn, Gandalf and even Boromir had gone very quiet and still.
"Settlement?" said Gandalf. "What manner of settlement was it, did you see?"
"Well, no, it was still dark, not quite dawn yet, I just saw torches and campfires, lots of them. I assumed it was a village or town or something..." Draco's voice trailed off.
"Draco, this area has been forsaken for centuries, there are no villages out here," said Aragorn, fingering his sword hilt.
"And no village would have campfires," said Boromir, "and certainly not all lit just before the sun rose, no dwelling of Men would have fires burning all night, and only a few would get up early to light them. Even they would be bakers and smiths lighting their ovens and forges. Only Men camping out would have fires open to the sky, and those would not all be burning all night."
"A campsite," cried Gandalf. "That can only mean a war party, and not a mortal one at that. Men do not burn fires overnight, but Orcs would certainly light their campfires in the hours before dawn when they had their supper and then rested during the day."
"But if they're only a few miles away... they'll reach us tonight!" Harry cried. "Gandalf, what do we do?"
"We cannot stay here," said Gandalf grimly. "Draco, pass the miruvor around, we shall have to move and move now. What choice but the mines do we have? Who among you wishes to ride south with an Orc war-band on your tails?"
No one did, and so, shouldering the gear and shrinking what they could so as to travel light, each took a sip of the miruvor and followed Gandalf's lead.
They travelled all afternoon, moving with haste to reach Moria's western gate by nightfall. Gandalf led the way and Aragorn brought up the rear, doing his best to disguise their trail. Draco had shouldered his broom, refusing to ride it until he could feel his thighs again, and was walking alongside Luna, wand out and glancing to each side as if he knew of some threat the rest of them didn't. Harry meanwhile couldn't take his eyes off the January sky, cold and crisp, and the Sun sinking ever lower into the West.
"How far?" Harry whispered to Gandalf, hoping they'd be there soon.
"Not far now," came the answer. Gandalf indicated a row of cliffs in the distance, a great grey wall dominating the horizon. "Soon, we shall come across Sirannon, the Gate-Stream of Moria, and following that to its source will bring us there."
"Will we make it before sunset?" Harry asked.
"We will if boy wizards do not keep bothering me with questions!" Gandalf snapped. Harry took that as a sign to stay quiet and fell back, letting Gandalf lead the way. They had not gone far when Gimli, who had scouted ahead, scrambled back over the red rocks and called that he'd found the Sirannon... or what was left of it. The once fast-flowing stream had been reduced to a bare trickle, and the stream-bed lay empty. Hands reached for wands and blades, and the Fellowship pressed on warily. At length, it became obvious where the stream had gone – past the remains of a waterfall, the stream had been dammed, and a dark lake lay between them and the West Gate of Moria.
Not a one of them could look upon that lake without a few twinges of unease at best, and Draco was looking at Luna with nothing short of alarm, carefully positioning himself between her and the water. Fortunately, the lake didn't take up quite all of the valley, and they were able to pick their way across the beach to the north, arriving at the plain grey rocks of the Walls of Moria, two mighty holly trees looming over them like ancient guardians..
"So how do we get in?" Hermione asked, trailing a finger over the rock. "There used to be a door, right?"
"Aye, lady, and there probably still is," said Gimli. "But no Dwarf door can be seen when shut, and even a Dwarf could not find one if the secret had been forgotten."
"This is true,"said Gandalf. "But this door was never meant to be a secret for Dwarves alone. They traded with Elves through this door, and even Men – the doors were never closed back then. There should be signs for those that know where to look."
The Sun was setting by now, and the Moon had risen, its soft light bathing the doors. Gandalf whispered and ran his hands over the rock. As he did so, the rock shimmered and silver threads of light began to appear, slowly spreading over the bare rock until the image of an archway with Elvish lettering appeared, with two trees inside it and a seven pointed star, along with a crown and seven stars, and a hammer and anvil.
"The emblems of Durin!" Gimli cried.
"And the trees of the High Elves," Legolas whispered. "And is that the Star of Feanor?"
Gandalf nodded, pleased with himself. "Made with ithildin, which is visible only in moonlight. As the Elven writing says, they are the Doors of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak, friend and enter. I, Narvi, made them. Celebrimbor of Hollin drew these signs. As I said before, these doors were never shut in the days of Durin. But if they were, speaking the password would open them."
"Oh, so all we need to do is find the password?" said Hermione. "Well, that's not too hard. I suppose you know what it is, Gandalf?"
Gandalf shook his head. "No, it's been lost for centuries."
Cries of dismay echoed around the valley.
"Then why even come here, if you can get us no further?" Boromir cried. "Are we all to be slaughtered here by Orcs?"
Gandalf rose to his feet, bristling at Boromir. "That, son of Denethor, is not what I said. Let me try all the methods at my disposal first!" He proceeded to do just that, casting every spell he knew for the purpose.
It was to no avail. Spell after spell he tried, in all the languages of Middle Earth, until at length, after resorting to crying Open, open!, Gandalf finally gave in, throwing down his staff and flinging himself down to sit on a nearby rock.
No one spoke, not one of them wanting to break the silence and in doing so, admit Gandalf's failure and their own dilemma. In the distance, the wind howled and with it came even less cheering a sound – howling of wolves.
"Wargs!" Boromir cried. "And where the Warg howls, the Orc prowls, all Gondor knows this. They are on our tail. A fine end for a son of Gondor, dying far from home with an Orc arrow in his throat. How I wish we had never come this way!" Frustrated, he kicked a rock into the pool. It struck the surface with a resounding splash, ripples moving rapidly outwards to lap at the beach.
"Boromir, no!" Draco cried, horrified, remembering his dreams of a Watcher in the Water. "You don't know what's in there!"
"It can hardly be worse than what's out there," Boromir growled. No sooner had he spoken than a giant tentacle lashed out of the water, grabbing Harry by the leg.
"Harry!" Aragorn cried, unsheathing Anduril. Hermione and Ginny hadn't even paused to shout, their wands out and firing Severing Charms, Fire Charms, anything they could think of to persuade the tentacled horror in the pool to release its grip on their friend. Harry himself was determinedly attacking the tentacle that had him in its grasp. The tentacle was hesitating... and then another one lashed out, heading straight for Luna.
Draco pushed her back and aimed a Reductor Hex at it. The Watcher shrieked as the hex took a chunk out of its arm, black ichor spraying everywhere as the arm retreated below the water again. Shaking and now filthy, Draco dragged Luna to the walls of Moria.
"Luna, you know, don't you, you know the password, you remember how this went, don't you?" he said desperately.
"I can't," said Luna miserably. "I can't tell you or anyone, you need to work it out yourselves, I can't intervene!"
"Why not?" Draco cried. "We could die out here, you nearly did! There are Orcs over the other side of this valley, and an eldritch Thing in the lake. Please, Luna. If not the answer, a clue would be nice?"
"There's one in plain sight," said Luna. "You just need eyes to see it."
"No help whatsoever," Draco seethed. "Right. Alohomora!"
The door stubbornly refused to open. Draco tried a few more spells, but to no avail. None of the opening charms he knew worked. Eyes to see it... in plain sight... "Revelo!"
This time, something happened. The Elven letters rippled and before his eyes, shifted into familiar Latin letters and English words. But all they said was what Gandalf had read out earlier. Except with one difference...
"Say friend and enter?" Draco frowned. "Gandalf said speak, friend, and enter earlier. Why's it different?"
Behind him, Hermione stepped back, out of range of the Watcher's tentacles as she sent a hex arching over the lake.
"Languages change, Draco, and Gandalf's as prone to misinterpreting them as anyone," she said briskly. Glancing around, she saw the translated writing on the doors, and her eyes widened. "Of course!" she breathed, "that's it, it's not telling us to say the password at all, it's telling us the password! The password's friend!"
"Which you just said out loud and nothing happened," Draco pointed out.
"Because I was speaking English, or Westron to anyone from Middle Earth, I suppose. But the door-makers obviously didn't," said Hermione, still grinning. Turning around, she ran to grab Legolas's arm before he could draw his next arrow. "Legolas! What's Elvish for friend?"
"Strange are your priorities, young one," the Elf said with a frown. "Hermione, I know very little Quenya, and Sindarin is not spoken the same in Mirkwood as in Rivendell. But the word for friend in the houses of both Elrond and Thranduilas is mellon."
Scarcely had he spoken than the doors swung open. Legolas stared, then began to laugh.
"Mellyn-nin, I do believe Hermione solved the password! Come, before it closes!"
In the distance, torchlight could be dimly seen at the far end of the lake. A hex from Ginny and a sweep of Anduril finally sliced through the tentacle imprisoning Harry, and Aragorn and Boromir dragged Harry to his feet and hauled him out of the lake. At a run, the entire Fellowship broke and fell back to the gates, a few blasts of magic from Gandalf and Ginny keeping the Watcher at bay. Legolas was last in, firing a few parting arrow-shots and diving in before the Watcher's arms could reach him and pull him back. The others had retreated up the tunnel out of reach. Frustrated, the Watcher shrieked some more, before grabbing the doors and slamming them shut. The very rock around them shook as what sounded like half the mountain came crashing down outside, followed by a tearing sound and two loud thumps slamming into the rock.
"That, I would guess, is the tree guardians being uprooted," said Gandalf sadly, conjuring a magelight. Five voices simultaneously whispered "Lumos", and with that amount of magical light, they could all see each other as clearly as if it were day. Aragorn, Boromir, Ginny, Gimli and Harry were soaked from the lake, and no one had escaped the Watcher's blood spatter. They were cold, wet, tired, filthy, and there was no way back now.
"Now what?" asked Harry.
"Now, Harry, we make our way a little further into the mountain until we find somewhere to rest, and then we shall have a fire, and a chance for you to demonstrate your prowess at cleaning and drying charms. And then we shall set a watch and rest for the night, for we are all weary," said Gandalf.
"And in the morning?" Hermione asked nervously.
"Then, my dear," said Gandalf, "we do the only thing we can – go onwards."
