As promised, I have my trio of amazing in this chapter (Harry, Lucius and Sirius). They are in the beginning in fact. I do not, however, have Draca in this chapter. I ran out of room. This chapter sets up a few plot points and moves the story along. :) I hope you enjoy it.
Chapter 14 – A Sword and A Branch
For days they had traveled. He could feel the pounding beat of their march in his teeth. He was tired, but it was a good tired. Sirius had taken to his dog form. He was a hit among the Rhûnic women, but the men were often found grumbling after the 'flashy wizard.' The men and women of Rhûn were comfortable with Alatar and Pollando. They had a great amount of respect for them. In fact, most of them had worked some kind of blue fabric into their armor.
And what splendid armor it was. For the Generals they had shiny metal armor, fitted and well made. They had capes of dyed linen, a magnificent blue color that was hard to catch in natural dyes. The Captains had bright blue cloth arm bands and shiny metal chest pieces. The rest of their armor was thick leather. The foot soldiers and archers were outfitted in leather armor, but it was no less majestic. Each piece was delicately tooled with the symbol of Rhûn, a four pointed star with a circle in the center, and then in the center of each circle there were many tribal and family symbols. The soldiers wore kerchiefs of blue around their necks. The female soldiers, with their hair slightly longer than the freshly shorn men's locks, kept it braided tightly and tied with ribbons of blue. Even their standard was the symbol of Rhûn on a blue background.
One of the Princes of the capital of Rhûn was traveling with them. There were seven members of the royal family. The King and Queen, two Princes and three Princesses. The royal family had been under the Dark Lord's thumb for a long time. It was a difficult situation to be in. There were very few allies for Rhûn, so defying Mordor really wasn't feasible for them.
Prince Amir was a respected General in his own right. Along with his brilliant cape of blue he wore a pointed crown of gold and carried a long golden dagger at his side, the hilt shaped like a serpent. Amir traveled in the main pack with the wizards, and found the new wizards absolutely fascinating. The people of Rhûn were dark of skin and hair, and they all found Lucius' blonde hair rather exotic. Even Harry's brilliant green eyes caught their attention. Their eye colors were muted browns and green, even the occasional muddy blue, but nothing so vivid as Sirius' sapphire gaze or Lucius' sultry silver eyes.
"Your son is half dragon? How is this possible? Do your kind mate with dragons? Are you married to a dragon?" Amir asked, his youthful voice vibrant with curiosity. Harry smiled.
"No. Though she has the spirit like one, my wife is as human as I am. James was transformed by foul, horrible magic. It was a painful and it changed the way he acted. It took us a long time to help James control the animal urges that he got. Why, I'll never forget the time he chased the neighbor's cat clean up a tree because the poor creature tried to mark our yard as its territory," Harry said with a sad laugh. "But he's a good lad. Fiercely loyal. I love him so much and I miss him."
Orion put his hand on Harry's shoulder.
"We'll find James. We'll get them all and we'll get them home," he said softly. Harry nodded, but said nothing.
"Prince Amir! Look!" Shouted a scout ahead of them. They all looked up into the sky where the scout pointed. A dark shape was growing larger against the bright blue desert sky.
"How long until it reaches us?" he asked the scout. The man tilted his head slightly.
"Less than twenty minutes. It's moving incredibly fast. I don't think it's a bird," the scout replied.
"That's because it's not. It's one of Sauron's foul wraiths," Alatar said, his green eyes glinting in the sun. He turned to the three wizards. "Even one of the wraiths is impossible to defeat. We can only hope to beat it back. Eluhîn has dealt with the minions of Mordor. I would suggest taking cover. Not because I doubt your abilities, but because this is a foe unlike any you may have faced," he said to them. Harry sneered.
"Never. That black-hearted devil will not stand between me and my son. I will destroy it," he said vehemently, his hair crackling with static magic. Lucius stepped up beside Harry, his wand in his hand and magic swirling at his feet. Orion just glared grimly up at the black spectre as his father morphed back into his human form.
"It will not stand between me and Rohan," Lucius added. Sirius shrugged and stepped to the other side of Harry.
"I just want to kick something's ass…" he said.
Hathalmyrn flew as if the whip of his master was on his heels. He was already facing a torment worse than death for his part in losing the Blue wizards. But to be fair he really had thought them dead. It was Murazor that had taken out the eye of one of them. And Khamûl had brought down their fortress around their ears. The full wrath of Sauron had been on them in that endeavor, and he had been pleased with his servants when they had returned. Two of the five Wizards dead. One was a mushroom-gobbling fool. There were only two that were now a threat to him….and then one became his ally.
Now the numbers were back up. For the one wizard he had gained as an ally he regained the two Blue Wizards as foes. And now the three wizards travelling with them, and the one they had taken on as an apprentice. That was six wizards just there, not counting the Grey wizard and the brown wizard.
When he was upon the group he stayed high, scoping out his prey and shrieking intermittently. The shrieks were designed to draw fear into the hearts of men. And whatever power those new wizards held, they were still Men. He saw one of them falter, dark haired and pale, before another seemed to falter under his onslaught as well. Others of their company drew in on themselves, weeping and calling out the names of loved ones.
He could see the Blue ones near the front of the company, their faces grim beneath their large brimmed hats. They held their staves close, the stones on the ends glowing fiercely even in the bright sun. It hurt to be out in such brightness, but he would rather face the bright smile of Anor than go back to his master empty handed.
He dove. With a terrifying shriek he grasped one of the new wizards about the waist, pulling him into the air and high into the sky. The few arrows aimed at him skittered past harmlessly, and then they dare not aim for fear of hitting the wizard in his grasp. His hair was yellow and he smelled of the Firstborn.
"Lucius!" Harry cried, trying to grasp the man's leg before he had been pulled too far from their grasp.
Lucius struggled mightily in the beast's grasp. This foul corpse reminded him awfully of the Dementors; shadow and fear and death was in his aura. Scenes from his life were flashing before his eyes, terrible times. He gritted his teeth and raised his wand.
He focused on the day he had married Narcissa. He focused on the day that Draco was born. He focused on the first time Draco had called him 'papa.' He focused on the birth of Scorpius and then Draca. He focused on the first steps of little Draca, ignored by her father and coached by her brother.
"Expecto Patronum!" he snarled. The tip of the wand exploded with magic. His own Patronus charm took the form of a swan. It had always galled him a bit, but honestly it fit well. And now he wasn't complaining. The large bird burst from the tip of his wand and batted at the wraith with its wings. It dropped him in surprise, and Lucius quickly Apparated.
The Death Eater Apparation he had learned when he served under the Dark Lord came in handy at the moment. His entire body became as smoke, carefully corkscrewing towards the ground to reduce his momentum. When he was a few feet above the ground he changed back into his solid form, landing neatly on his feet.
"Impressive," Sirius said weakly. The presence of the wraith was affecting him horribly. His years in Azkaban were dancing across his mind and it was quite alarming. His whole body trembled violently and he felt ill.
Harry was faring no better. His face was pale and pasty. A sob tore itself from his throat.
Take Harry and run!
Freak!
Kill the spare!
James! Where is James?
The wraith was not the same as a Dementor, though, and slashed through the white energy with a pale sword, dissolving the apparition. Harry reached into his pocket and withdrew a small case. He had hoped not to use this item, it being so rare. He had…borrowed…a certain sword before his departure from his own world, and figured that now was just as good a time as any to use it. He opened the case and withdrew the miniaturized sword and scabbard. A flick of his wand made the sword full sized, and he pulled the blade from its sheath with a soft hiss of metal on dragonhide. The feel of the blade in his hand gave him a strange strength, and he looked upwards at the wraith.
"Come, you foul servant of Darkness! Face me in battle! I challenge you!" Harry yelled. The wraith floated languidly where it was for several moments, before it dropped like a stone. It landed solidly on two feet, displacing a spray of sand under its boots.
"Foolish mortal. Thy brash words will be the last thing that passes thy lips, save thy life's blood," the wraith hissed.
"Oooh, we're so scared of the jerkoff flitting around like a little black butterfly," Sirius snapped. He shook his head, trying to clear the presence of the wraith's dark power.
"Peace, wizardling. Thou hast foolishness that will cost thee in thy turn," was the hissed reply. Harry stepped forward, the Sword of Gryffindor glittering in the light.
"Why don't you stop talking out of your arse and make a move?" Harry asked. The wraith tilted its shrouded head.
"Thou art a boil, a plague sore, an embossed carbuncle in my corrupted blood," the wraith replied. Harry's eyebrows shot up. The damn thing just insulted him…it just insulted him.
"I do desire we be better strangers," Harry said in return, whirling the sword expertly. It sang metallically through the warm air, the rubies in the hilt glittering like freshly drawn blood.
"Thou art the son and heir of a mongrel bitch," the wraith hissed. Harry just laughed.
"You cheeky dick waffle."
They faced each other in front of the host of Rhûnic men and women. Though there were nearly four hundred men and women there, none of them at the front wanted to face one of the Nine. The wraith, though, continued to regard Harry.
"I know thy face. Though I have seen it on another," the wraith teased, and would have grinned if it had the mouth to do so.
"And what's that supposed to mean?" Harry growled.
"Tell me: art thou the father of the Dragon Wizard?"
James groaned.
He had found the ultimate paradise. While exploring the city of Caras Galadhon, he had stumbled across a day spa. While the clientele were primarily female, occasionally a male would come to them for a bit of pampering. James had no coinage to pay for the services, but he instead bartered with a few of his own scales. They fell off all the time, and he usually collected them to make pendants and jewelry out of back home. People went gaga over dragon scale items, and it seemed no different here.
Currently he had a soothing mixture of herbs and smooth mud spread over his face. His hair was plastered back with deep, rich conditioning oil, and the ellyth were currently massaging him with lightly fragranced body oil. He was clad only in a pair of loose shorts, and he was quite aware of the appreciative stares and giggles he was getting.
"Male elves do not have body hair, sweet dragon. We are quite fascinated with your man-pelt," one said as she gingerly rubbed his abdomen. James grinned under his moisturizing mask as she ran her fingers over the dusting of hair across his chest.
"My dears, explore all you like. I'm sure there are other differences between Men and Elves," he said with a wink. The elf tittered shyly. A bolder elf looked at his shorts appreciatively.
"Aye, to that we both agree. It's as likening a twig to a branch," she purred. She saw the gleam in his eyes.
"And would the pretty lady like to sit on the branch?" he rumbled suggestively. She narrowed her eyes at him.
"I wouldn't want to damage such a lovely tree," she returned evenly. James' lips parted slightly, showing his teeth as the others watched in fascination.
"I can assure you that this branch is quite…thick. It is sturdy enough to support you for…extended lengths of time," he growled. The elleth looked at her companions.
"Leave," she all but snarled. They giggled and scattered. "Come, we will rinse you," she said to him, tugging him to his feet. She led him to a back room to a private bath, the steamy water fragrant with flower petals. The tub was large enough for several people, but the elf shut the door and latched it firmly.
"In the water," she stated firmly, tugging at her own clothes.
"Hold on just a moment, sparkles," James said suddenly, rounding on her. She looked up, surprised when he grabbed her hands and pulled her close. Their noses were almost touching and she could smell the light smokiness of his breath. "Let's get one thing straight: You do not order me. I am not submissive in any way, shape or form. Attempting to order me around like a floppy-tailed dog will result in me quite cheerfully taking you over my knee and spanking you until that impertinent little bottom agrees that I am in charge. Now if you're into that sort of thing just let me know, love, and I'll oblige quite willingly," he said, his voice deep and smooth. The she-elf shuddered with liquid desire. The facial mud he was wearing didn't make him look at all less dangerous. He held her gaze for several moments, before she looked away obligingly. There were few creatures that could outstare an elf, and apparently he was one of them.
"My name is James," he said suddenly, loosening the grip on her hands and whirling her around to unbutton her dress.
"Excuse me?" she asked, gasping when he tugged the buttons out of place and shoved the fabric down her arms and to the floor. She wore no under shift, and was bared to him in that one movement. He turned her around, his eyes glowing in the lamp light as he devoured the sight of her.
"I just wanted to let you know what you're going to be screaming in a few moments."
"Has anyone seen the dragon?" Pippin asked, a plate piled high with fruit sitting in front of him. Merry looked up from steadily eating his own bowl of fruit.
"I believe he said something about exploring the city," Merry said, biting into a most excellent apple.
Boromir shuddered. "There's no telling what he's doing in the city. He'll probably catch something on fire before we leave," the Man muttered.
"I don't believe that's very fair of you, Son of Gondor,"
They turned to see the Lady Galadriel standing at the door to their housing, her face and hair as radiant as ever. Gimli got a rather dreamy look on his face as he gazed upon her. A small head suddenly poked out from behind her leg, revealing the bright blue gaze of her son, GaladhÎr.
"Nana, can I sit with the new people while you go to your mirror? I want to know them better," he asked sweetly, an innocent gaze on his face.
"If they are not averse to your company, little one. Frodo Baggins, I wish to speak with you," Galadriel said, her gaze falling on the dark-haired Hobbit. Frodo swallowed hard and stood to his feet, dusting off his worn trousers.
"Don't worry now, Mr. Frodo. I bet she just wants to give you some advice," Sam said softly to his Master. Frodo looked back at his faithful friend and smiled.
"Thank you, my friend," he replied, before walking shyly up to the elf Lady. Galadhîr emerged from behind his mother, grinning brightly. He was a little taller than Frodo, and his hair was the silvery blond of his father, with his mother's bright eyes.
"You're just going to look in the mirror, Mr. Frodo Hobbit sir," Galadhîr smiled. "It's very interesting!"
"Well thank you for putting my fears to rest. I had feared your mother may roast me alive," Frodo teased. Galadhîr's grin only broadened.
"She'll only do that if you dump red grape juice over the court advisors. And even then it's only your bum she roasts," he laughed.
"Galadhîr, peace," Galadriel said softly. The boy laughed beautifully as his mother led the dark haired Hobbit away to her private garden. His bright eyes sought the gaze of each of the Fellowship. He caught sight of Legolas in the corner, examining his bow to make sure it was in working order.
"Brother from the North!" he squealed, pattering along the soft carpet of leaves to launch himself at the other elf. Legolas set aside his bow just in time to be assaulted by an armful of laughing elfling. "I've never met an elf of the Mirkwood realm! Tell me about the forest. Are there really spiders as big as Elves there? Have you ever fought orcs? Is it true that your Ada and my Nana got into a fight? You can shoot a bow? If you made a bow big enough could you shoot an elf like an arrow? Are spiders friendly? Can orcs read? Have you ever had a conversation with an orc?" the boy rattled. Legolas' eyes grew wide and he looked to the others for some kind of support. Merry and Pippin both had cheeks full of food and were trying to keep from snickering.
Sam had a fond sort of look on his face as he gazed at the child. Boromir was laughing silently, holding his sides and clearly thinking of times gone by. Legolas took a deep breath.
"Yes there are spiders as big as elves in the forest of Mirkwood. I have fought orcs. There was a misunderstanding between them many centuries ago. I have been shooting a bow since I was fifty years old. I do not think anyone could fire a bow big enough to shoot an elf. Spiders are definitely not friendly. I do not know if orcs can read. I once knew a half-orc who had very good conversations," Legolas replied evenly. Galadhîr's mouth dropped open.
"You answer questions better than Ada. And Nana just floats me to the library and tells me to study! I like you," he said, and wrapped gangly arms around Legolas' neck. Legolas laughed and patted the elfling's back.
"I like you, too."
James walked through the forest floor in a daze, his body aching in a most pleased way. The she-elf, whose name he discovered was Lalorn, had proved quite fiery and pleasurable. He had a few scratches across his back to prove it. She had also proved interested in some more…carnal adventures and had let him skillfully spank her into frenzy. Several times they had coupled and each time they had enjoyed explosive completions.
"I just saw one of Lórien's maidens limping in the other direction. I should hope that you are not corrupting the populace of ellyth?"
He turned his head to see the Lord and Lady of the Wood sitting on a delicately carved bench in a copse of winter blooms. Galadriel looked tired, her normally bright eyes a little duller and her glow a little less pronounced. Though James didn't know it, her meeting with Frodo at the magic mirror had been quite draining.
"Not the populace. Just one. Why, you jealous, sweet cheeks? I always have time for one more," he said with a wink. Celeborn bristled immediately.
"You dare speak to another man's wife in such a way? How impertinent you are!" he said vehemently. James looked him over, grinning impishly.
"As…pretty as you are, I don't swing that way, Celly. You shouldn't be so prickly…it's not my fault your wife is smoking hot," James replied. Celeborn stood from the bench, but Galadriel's hand found his and stayed him.
"He deals with his problems with irreverence and flippancy. His grief is manifesting in sarcasm. He means not what he says. Do you think for a moment that if I thought he was serious about that offer that I would hesitate in striking down a brazen little dragon?" she asked her husband. He deflated a bit.
"Nay, my love, I do not feel that you would dishonor me or yourself. But there is something altogether infuriating about the boy," he said, turning back to where James was standing, a languid grin on his face.
"Aw…Celly. Your wisdom in the realm is renowned. Why do you withhold wisdom from me? What is it about me that threatens you?" James teased.
"Keep your forked tongue behind your sharp teeth, beast, else you may get a matching scar on the other side of your face," Celeborn said. James' teasing smile vanished and the very air around them changed. He spread his wings slightly and showed his sharp teeth in a sneer.
"The first one was free, elf. Try it again and I will shove a pike up your arse and spit roast you," he growled deeply. Fire licked at his lips for a few moments, giving him a hellish appearance before the flames died. He gave a barking snarl of displeasure and took to the nearest tree, climbing with every bit as much grace and agility as an elf before getting high enough to jump across the branches. The two elven rulers watched him leave, before Celeborn sat again beside his wife.
"He never deserved that scar," Galadriel said quietly, threading her fingers with Celeborn's.
"I saw you…kneeling before that animal…bleeding…and I reacted quite violently. I love you, Alatáriel, with all that I am. The thought that I might lose you undid me. And now that the creature can speak…he has too much flagrancy for his own good," Celeborn sighed.
Galadriel rested her head against his shoulder, humming gently under her breath as she began to trace nonsensical patterns across his knee with her free hand.
"I am yours. Until the world is unmade my soul and yours are tied. But that impudent boy has done much good. He severed the Three from Sauron's grasp. He is escorting the One to its doom. How many of our people have started their families since the Severing? Galadhîr is not the only elfling born in the last sixty years. He has many his age. The elves are beginning to flourish again, and it's all because of one extremely powerful, extremely mouthy wizard. We owe him everything," she said. Celeborn reached out and captured her tracing hand, bringing it to his mouth and kissing her long, thin fingers.
"I will make an effort to reach out to him, if it pleases you. I do not wish anyone to think the Lord of Lórien is ungrateful for anything," he said. She smiled at him, her aura flaring back to its normal brightness.
"Thank you, my love. Now, let us retire for the day. I believe Galadhîr has found his Northern kinsman and will be kept busy for a few hours," she said, a slow grin forming on her fair face. Celeborn raised a silver eyebrow.
"And what are you suggesting, my fair Lady?" he asked.
"I say we do not let our visitors and maidens have all the fun there is to be had!" she said, untangling herself from him suddenly and springing to her feet. She practically danced out of his reaching hands.
"Is it a chase you want, then?" he asked, his grey eyes glimmering. She grinned at him and almost bounced on the balls of her feet.
"Catch me if you can, husband!" she teased, and fled into the woods on light feet, no sound betraying her steps. Celeborn grinned ferally.
"The chase is on!"
Aww, ancient immortal being love. D'aww…..I mean..er….Ew gross old-ass elf sex… DON'T JUDGE ME.
Well James got lucky during this chapter. Celeborn, too! I like Galadhîr….and he kept his clothes on…..this chapter. :D Also Shakespearean insults. The best kind. Lolololololol…(My favorite was Harry's last one.)
I hope you enjoyed this my loves. All of my love and tenderness went into this. }:) (Be afraid. Be very afraid.)
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