This is the disclaimer. I do not own anything from Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter, they are the property of JRR Tolkien and J K Rowling, this writing is purely for pleasure and I get no money out of this whatsoever, now that is out of the way on with the story!

Chapter 11

Cold. Freezing, mind numbing cold.

Elion thought he knew what cold felt like; after all he had spent seven years in a draughty old castle up in the Scottish Highlands in the dead of winter, winters where snow drifted into heaps that reached the windows but that was before he met the Pass of Caradhras.

It had been unfortunate enough that they had been forced to start their quest at the start of winter but at least down on the plains and in the forests, while there was frost on the ground every morning it never got as cold as it was high up on the pass. They had been wading through snow for hours and despite the warming charms Elion had placed on himself and all the hobbits, and the layers of clothing they were swaddled in under their cloaks, his teeth were chatting and he had no feeling left in his fingers or toes.

It was the second day they had spent trying to navigate the mountain pass. They had passed one cold, miserable night under a rocky outcrop with the underside mercifully free from snow and it had only been because of Elion's magic they had even managed to get a fire going in the wet wood, a fire who's heat had seemed ineffectual against the biting cold and had used up the fuel they could spare for that night far too fast. Elion had been glad to wake and begin the trudge through the snow once more, because even if he was tired the motion at least had warmed him somewhat.

But then the storm had swept in, bringing nothing but swirling snow, a wind that clawed at any exposed flesh, freezing any available moisture to it and fell voices echoing on the air. Cloaks were little comfort as they forced their way onwards, Gandalf clearing a path with his staff. Elion was almost glued to Aragorn's side, along with Frodo, the ranger protecting them from the worst of the storm but the warmth that his presence gave them faded to nothing against the pervasive cold.

And then Elion felt it, the pure magic that permeated this storm, sweeping it into a greater frenzy. Ahead of them Elion could hear Gandalf's voice shouting words which he could recognise as an incantation. But the storm's fury did not abate and with a sudden moment of clarity Elion realised that this opponent was stronger than Gandalf and he did not have the power to fight it alone. And with that thought he knew what he had to do.

This was their road and they could not be forced back or they would be unable to complete the quest and that could not be allowed to happen. Gandalf needed help and while Elion did not know enough to join him in the magic the Istar was weaving he could give him strength. Ducking out from under Aragorn's arm he staggered his way through the snow to Gandalf's side, ignoring the startled and almost fearful cries from the Fellowship.

Gritting his teeth he pulled his magic up until it was flowing to his palm and in a single movement he placed his hand on the Istar's staff, letting his own magic flow through into it, and into the spell.

For one awful moment the storm increased in potency but then the fell voices faded slightly and the wind slackened a little. It was not much but it was there and Elion saw the fight surge back into the Istar, he raised his staff, his voice booming powerfully out into the storm and as Elion fed his own strength into the working, the blizzard's grip on the mountainside faltered and slowly faded until there was nothing but a light snowfall dusting their faces and a light wind, which though it still had a bite, no longer scrubbed their faces raw.

Elion saw Gandalf grasp his staff heavily, letting it support his weight as his breath came in gasps but Elion did not have time to look and wonder as he suddenly felt the trembling in his own limbs and realised he was panting as if he had been running for miles. He realised then, just how much of his magic and strength he had given to Gandalf to help fight the storm and precisely why Gandalf had called such magic 'great works'. He was bone tired, freezing and short of breath.

When he felt an arm settle across his shoulders, pulling him back against a warm side he gladly surrendered his grip on the staff and let the arm support him as he was tucked against a familiar side, half covered by a worn cloak. Elion smiled tiredly up at Aragorn and the ranger smiled back at him before turning urgently to Gandalf.

The Istar however saw the question coming, "Wielding that much magic has tired me, but Saruman has been driven back and will not have the strength to mount a second attack soon. We must now concentrate on traversing as much of the pass as we can. Our presence has been spotted, and if we do not move quickly it will be all too easy for Saruman to find us once he had regained his strength."

Aragorn's face tightened but he nodded sharply in acknowledgement of the silent request. The ranger moved to the head of the party, though he kept both Frodo and Elion under the shielding warmth of his cloak, something they were both thankful for because although the storm had all but vanished, the cold had already seeped deep into their bones.

Without the pounding snow and strong winds the Fellowship made much better progress and they all found their steps easier as they no longer battled against the force of the howling wind. Aragorn led them through the snow covered paths with the simple ease that spoke of years of wandering these wilds and by the time the sky darkened once more, though this time with sunset, they had crossed the peak of the pass and were approaching the tree line on the far side of the mountain. It would still be another day's travel at least until they were back in the foothills but the whole company felt a sense of relief when they came under snow laden boughs once more. They had conquered the pass.

It was with lighter hearts that they set up camp that night, though their limbs were leaden. And with the wards up, keeping the camp safe from prying eyes, the crackle of a fire and the heat that poured off it now it was fed with fresh wood was enough to warm them and revive their spirits. But despite the relief Elion felt at being past the height of the pass, putting up the wards had taken the last of his magical strength and he had curled up in his bedroll the instant he had finished his supper, his eyes closing quickly.

And he hadn't been the only one, the whole company was tired from their battle with the elements and the period they had remained around the campfire, talking and jesting had been brief as they all had quickly sought their beds though not before a watch was mounted. Even though they had conquered the pass it went unspoken that they had moved into a more dangerous realm. Saruman had attacked them up on the mountain and they did not fool themselves to think that they had escaped his sight.

He knew they were on the pass and while he did not currently have the magical strength to attack them himself from Orthanc they knew that even now there would be spies, Crebain, sent out to find them and there would be Uruk-hai being readied. They would have to travel fast and avoid the main ways if they were to pass into Mordor and continue on their quest without alerting the Enemy to their purpose.

But even as Aragorn took the first watch, blue eyes scanning the darkened surroundings, they did not realise that the danger did not lie with Saruman and his forces but rather was far closer to the camp and had already been following them for several days.

Large pale eyes stared unblinking at the clearing in front of him. He couldn't see the creatures, the thieves that he had been tracking for days now but he could feel it, feel the precious calling out to him from the clearing in front of him. It was there, so close and there was almost a physical agony rising in him. He needed it, he needed his precious, it was his, only his and they had stolen it.

His fingers twisted, softly stroking the phantom imprint of the ring where he had cradled it in his palm for night after night, even as his eyes looked hungrily into the place where he knew it lay even though he couldn't get close, couldn't see it or touch it. He wanted it, he desperately wanted it, to go there and feel the life leave the hobbit who carried it and then he could take it, take his only, his precious.

But the elf was there, the nasty elf with the bright blades that sung and that bit. And the man, the tall dark man that had chased him through the forest, through the wilds until he couldn't run and then had caught him, his sword sun-bright and deep bite. And dragged him with the tall grey one back to the nasty elves with the voices that stabbed and the ropes and hands that burnt. It was too risky, too risky.

Precious, my own, my only, my precious. It was his. They were thieves, filthy little thieves.

But he couldn't kill them all. Not with the elf-steel that bit and burned.

It was his, his, his, his, his alone.

He could let them do it. He knew these mountains, knew the caverns, the caves, the passageways into the depths and the deeps he would never tread. He knew of the goblins and of the fouler things that lurked in the shadows, in the depths. What need would goblins have for his precious when they could have man flesh?

Yes, yes, yes. Exultation mixed with longing and a sharp, savage glee pulsed through him. He knew these tunnels, he knew the cave that opened onto the surface nearby, close enough that the goblins would easily be able to catch the scent of the men and they did not take intruders into their territory lightly. Without realising it, bony fingers reached down, catching at the jagged scar that ran along his arm, the clear reminder of the strength of the nasty goblins. They would kill them and then the precious would be his once more.

Silently and as swiftly as a shadow the creature known as Gollum slipped down from his perch high in the treetops before slinking across frozen ground to where he knew the caves and the goblins were. He would have to be tricksy if he wanted to lead the goblins here but he could be tricksy, he would be tricksy for the precious. Always for the precious.

The company had barely started moving once more when Legolas held up his hand for silence. Instantly the Fellowship froze, eyes swinging to the taut form of the elf, his hand already on his bow, even as Aragorn's fell to his sword hilt. Gandalf opened his mouth to inquire to the sudden wariness when suddenly they all heard the sound that had alerted the elf. Behind them came the snapping of twigs and on the wind those with sharper ears could pick up the sound of foul voices.

"Goblins," The word was hissed with unconcealed disgust.

Quick glances were exchanged between the warriors in the group and Elion could see by the setting of their shoulders that a decision had been reached. They were staying and fighting but they would not fight this battle at a disadvantage. Before Elion had a chance to ask what was about to happen he found himself pulled up into Legolas's arms and between one breath and the next the elf was high up a tree, placing him carefully onto a branch and settling onto a nearby branch, an arrow already balanced in his fingertips.

Foliage hid them, and the clothing the elf wore blended easily into the background. Below them Elion could see that the remainder of the company had already vanished into the woodland surrounding them and the plan instantly became apparent. Now they knew the goblins were attempting to attack them they were springing the trap, creating an ambush of their own. And with that thought Elion realised why Legolas had taken him up into the treetops. He was well aware he was unable to fight properly on the ground; he had no weapon he could wield at close quarters and would be a liability in a proper fight. However up in the treetops, hidden from the enemy's view he would be able to attack them with magic and instead of being a liability and a burden he could actually be useful in this fight.

Adrenalin rose up in him, his muscles tensing with remembered exertion, pain, fear and determination. He might not have that much magic to draw upon, the way he had aided Gandalf the previous day having taken more energy that he had been able to recover overnight but he knew what he had could be very useful, particularly if he thought carefully about the attacks he make.

However he couldn't help the shock and fear that rose in him when the first goblin entered the clearing. His hands flew to his mouth to muffle his cry of surprise, shock and fear and he only just managed to keep the sound from escaping. The goblins looked exactly what he had thought monsters would look like as a child, misshapen, ugly beings with cruel expressions on their faces, speaking of the pleasure they took in inflicting pain and the jagged, wicked weapons they clutched in their hands.

He had seen worse monsters since his childhood, human monsters that took joy in the death and destruction they wrought, that laughed as they watched others die before them, that had chosen to do their evil and he knew these goblins were not as monstrous as them but they still bayed for blood, their blood and Elion could not stop the fear that rose in his throat, almost choking. But he pushed it down, he had fought and beaten worse things than goblins, and he would not let them have the people he cared about or let them hurt them, not when he still drew breath and had magic in him.

He moved his eyes back to the goblins, focus coming to them now and he caught the glance that Legolas directed at him, one that was assessing, sorrowful and impressed. A slightly wavy smile rose on his lips in response then he focussed on the clearing below him, his mind jumping back to previous ambushes as he waited, nerves and fear coiling within him for the sign to start firing.

The goblins had gathered in the clearing, their brutish faces scanning the surroundings whilst one in front sniffed at the air. "Man-flesh," he growled, his voice the rasp of nails against stone, "They're close."

Elion watched as their grips on their weapons tightened and a smaller, squat creature spoke, its voice was high and sent a shiver down his spine, "What are we waiting for? I'm hungry and we haven't had fresh meat for ages."

"Shut up!" The leader snarled, "They'll be waiting for us if they hear you."

Sullenly the goblin complied, and though his face twisted into an angry half-snarl Elion could clearly see the fear in the motion. He forced himself to stay still, the proximity of the creatures, the adrenaline surging in his veins and the nerves coiling in his gut making him want to move and start to fight but he knew he had to wait for the signal. It would not help if he alerted the goblins to their presence or spoilt the ambush because that would only endanger the others and since Frodo had been injured at Weathertop he had promised himself that he would not let anyone he cared for in this world get hurt when he could prevent it again.

The sudden twang of a bow and the feathers that suddenly protruded from the lead goblin's forehead took him by surprise even though he had been tensed, waiting for the signal. There was utter silence for a moment as the pack of goblins realised their leader had been cut down by an enemy they couldn't see or had realised was there before a wave of growls, snarls and terrible cries ripped their way from nearly forty throats and the air echoed with the hiss of weapons being drawn and brought up.

The pause did not last for even a heartbeat before Legolas was shooting once more and another goblin went down. Elion snapped himself out of his shock, ignoring the fear pulsing in time with his heartbeat, he was beyond their reach up here and he drew on his magic. Ignoring his staff he snapped his palm out, "Bombarda!" He tried to keep his voice low as not to alert the goblins to his position but even as the blast slammed into the centre of the pack of goblins, sending nearly eight of them to their deaths, a few of those nearest to him looked up, their eyes squinting further as they searched for the source of the sound.

Fear choked his throat as black eyes found his and a guttural throat started to form words but in the next instant a battle cry cut off the words as the stocky figure of Gimli plunged into the melee, his axe whirling in a deadly dance even as Aragorn, Boromir and Gandalf joined him, blades humming in fatal unison through the still morning air.

Death came to the goblins and all the while Elion could do nothing but watch, a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. The company were fighting in the thick of the fight, though at some point Legolas had dropped to the ground to protect the hobbits and was away from the centre of the battle. Elion couldn't use his spells for fear of hitting one of the Fellowship and his wide area spells were useless when they would kill those he cared for just as surely as the goblins.

But slowly and surely they were winning. The numbers of goblins were lessening, now Aragorn and Boromir had slipped behind the pack, cutting off their escape back to their tunnels but though the numbers were decreasing it did not mean that the danger had passed.

Elion saw what was about to happen the instant before it did. Boromir had turned to block the blow of one goblin and while his attention was held by that creature a second had come behind him, his sword already raised and poised to deliver a fatal blow. With a hoarse cry Elion yelled "Diffindo!" He might not like the Gondorian but he would not let him die, not when he was part of the Fellowship.

Having heard the noise the man spun round, the first goblin dead, his sword already raised, only to see the goblin fall, headless, in front of his feet and saw the frightened emerald eyes of the young boy staring at him in horror. The man's eyes widened as he took in the position of the goblin and of the sword it held and Elion saw the moment when the warrior realised that he had been no more than inches from death. For a spilt second the man raised his eyes to meet Elion's and he dipped his head slightly in recognition of the boy's actions before spinning back into the fight.

Very soon it was all over. The goblin party had been completely destroyed and the Fellowship had escaped with no more than a collection of minor injuries, a variety of cuts, scrapes and bruises. Elion watched as the hobbits emerged, shaking from the bushes where they had remained hidden for the entire skirmish, their faces white as they took in the corpses that littered the ground, although there was relief in their eyes when they saw that no-one had suffered any serious hurt.

Merry and Pippin in particular were white faced and their eyes were wide and shocked. But Elion suddenly realised, even as Legolas carefully carried him down the tree and back to the ground, that this was the first time they had been faced with such mindless violence, and probably the first time they had watched someone be killed. Sympathy welled up in him as he remembered the first time he had watched someone die, and the first time he had knowingly spilt blood and the shock, horror, fear, guilt and revulsion that had risen in him.

Finding his feet securely back on the ground he hurried over to them, pausing only to smile – albeit a little shakily – at Aragorn and then at the others who looked at him in concern in a silent reassurance that he was alright. Reaching the two hobbits he reached out and impulsively hugged Merry and then Pippin. "It's alright," he promised quietly, his voice faltering slightly with the Common he wasn't yet fully familiar with. "It will get better. Not easier, killing is never easy but it was us or them and you don't need to be frightened or guilty."

Their faces were still pale but both Merry and Pippin managed to summon up a small smile and Elion's smile stretched larger in response. As the Fellowship continued their journey once more Elion made a point of walking with Pippin and Merry and gradually he watched as they slowly recovered from the emotions seeing the battle had raised within them.

It was nearly five hours later, and just past midday when they subject of the battle was raised once again, "Are you alright Elion?" the question came from a concerned Merry and Elion smiled genuinely back at him, "I'm fine," he answered, a faint hint of confusion colouring his tone, "Why wouldn't I be?"

"But you killed?" Pippin said then, his voice incredulous and Elion's smile faltered for a moment.

"It wasn't the first time," he said eventually, "I've killed in self defence and I've killed to protect. It isn't easy and I don't like it but I can understand why it has to happen." Determination entered his voice then, "If the choice is between keeping my friends and family safe, or killing the monsters hurting them, then I kill the monsters."

There was silence for a long moment as both Merry and Pippin processed his words before slowly nodding, "I can understand that," Merry said slowly, Pippin nodding alongside his friend, the levity that was normally present in his eyes absent, "I don't want to fight or kill but I would not stand by while my friends were in danger and I could do something about it."

"It isn't a game or an adventure," Pippin said softly, seriousness in his voice, "I didn't understand that before but I think I'm beginning to now. This journey will not be easy, there will be danger and I will have to fight before the end and I can only hope I will be able to do enough."

"You will," Elion's voice had a conviction in it that took the two younger hobbits by surprise, "At least that is what you must believe for if you don't the Enemy has already won." They regarded him for a few moments before Pippin grinned and adeptly switched the subject and soon Elion found himself laughing helplessly as the two of them regaled him with tales of their misadventures growing up in the shire.

But while they were laughing behind them two men were regarding the child, their expressions markedly different as they considered the conversation that they had just heard. Aragorn's eyes shone with a peculiar mix of understanding, sorrow and pride as he considered Elion's words but it was Boromir's countenance that betrayed more volatile emotions. Surprise, confusion, sadness and a grudging respect all vied for space in his eyes and his lips were tight and the look in his eyes distant as he walked, not seeing the stones beneath his feet. The small child whom he had been so dismissive of had turned round and not only saved him from what he knew would have been a fatal blow but was now talking with a weight and gravity which did not marry with his appearance. The Gondorian was rapidly coming to the conclusion that he needed to talk to the child, and this time with no trace of mockery.

He got his opportunity later that evening. They had travelled for longer than normal that day, wanting to put as much distance between them and the site of the ambush as possible for they did not know why the goblins had pursued them and they could not be certain that one hadn't escaped and gone back to the mountains to lead another group to them.

Elion had quickly raised the protections that they were all coming to trust but they had still kept their fire small and hidden in a small hollow and though for the most part the company had relaxed they kept their weapons within easy reach and there was a watchfulness in their bearings that spoke of their awareness of the threat.

It was shortly before supper when Boromir finally managed to corner Elion. The child had been remarkably adept at avoiding him, something the Gondorian suspected he was doing on purpose, he was either helping the hobbits cook or collect firewood, or simply curled up against Aragorn's side as the ranger cleaned his weapons, and he had studiously avoided meeting his eyes. But when Aragorn had risen with a gentle smile down at the child to go and talk with Gandalf, Boromir seized his chance.

He hurried over before Elion had the chance to occupy himself once again and crouched down to the child's level. Elion watched him, distrust in his eyes that Boromir was forced to admit he had probably earned with the way he had treated the child ever since he had met him. "Thank you Elion," he said quietly and the child's eyes widened before narrowing once again.

"What for?" Elion's voice was suspicious and Boromir could clearly see that the boy believed he was mocking him.

"For your actions in the battle today, I know that stroke would have killed me if not for your intervention."

Elion regarded him for a moment, the emerald eyes too serious for a child his age, "You do not need to thank me," he said finally, "You are part of this Fellowship and I would not see you dead."

"And I have given you no reason for that," Boromir countered, "I have not treated you as a comrade should and for that I am sorry. You are deserving of your place in the company and I was blind that I did not acknowledge it before."

Elion watched him for a moment, his eyes boring into the Gondorian, assessing his sincerity and he had to prevent himself from moving away from the piercing gaze. He let out a silent sigh of relief when Elion finally nodded and offered him a somewhat timid smile, the shadows in his eyes melting away a little as the child peeked through.

Boromir felt a smile rise on his own face and he reached out to ruffle the child's messy hair only to be fixed with a glare as the boy darted away, quickly heading back to the safety of the campfire and slipping in between Aragorn and Legolas. Boromir watched as the two favoured him with fond smiles, the ranger reaching out to wrap a protective arm around the child's shoulders and Elion curled up against his side.

A wistful smile touched his face as he watched the interaction and he was suddenly reminded of his childhood, when Faramir would curl up against his side and beg for stories which Boromir would gladly relate. It had been before their father had started to favour him, before either of them had tasted the bitterness of war and part of Boromir longed for those days, and for his brother to be here, fighting at his side where he belonged. But such dreams would not come to pass and Boromir knew it was his duty that was more important, his duty to his father, to his people and his brother.

His gaze strayed from the child then, to the form of Frodo and the treasure he carried. He was against the decision for it to be destroyed for such a weapon could be what was needed to turn the tide of war in Gondor's favour. He was not naive, he knew the situation in his home was perilous and the victory they had won at Osgiliath would all too soon be swept aside and it would be his brother that was blamed.

The ring could turn the tide of war from their defeat, such a powerful weapon would be all that was needed to secure victory, and though he knew it was dangerous, the Council and Elion's testimony enough to convince him of that fact, it did not change his conviction that it could be wielded for wasn't Frodo carrying it with no ill effects? He would be loathe to see it destroyed but he had sworn an oath and to his oath he would remain true.

AN: And there is the update - major plot change number 1! Hope you enjoyed it, thank you for all the support and please review! I'll see you in two weeks.