Betaed by the expeditious KaribookWorm.
Chapter 12: Truth behind Altered Eyes
With no small amount of persuading from Gandalf and Legolas and a couple spastic bouts of self-proclaimed puppy-eyes from Harry that ultimately proved counterproductive, especially when Pippin, Merry, and even a growingly suspicious Gimli were convinced to join him, the elves agreed to lead the Fellowship directly to the heart of Lórien. There they would meet Galadriel. Harry suspected the Lady's clairvoyant message to the elven guard was the true reason for Haldir's acceptance to veer from their long-held custom of blindfolding their guests, spinning them around three hundred times, and sprinkling fairy dust on them, or whatever it was these elves did to uphold secrecy. Either way, he was glad to bypass the dull ritual and be on their way. Although, it did give him more time to ponder the possible scenarios awaiting him.
Gandalf's startled "erm, well" and the several following little coughs and throat clears to Harry's question about Galadriel and her temperament before he proceeded to ignore the question's existence entirely did nothing to settle his worries. Still, Harry was half sure Gandalf was just messing with him in retaliation for his crude fecal joke. But only half.
"Keep up, son of man," the elven guard called out to Harry, who was once more rounding off the rear end of the group, not counting the elves stalking eerily silent through the trees just behind them.
"See," Harry whispered to Gimli, who was trudging along beside him, struggling to keep pace with the elves' long strides while acting like he was slowing down for them. "Baseless hatred is all I get from these elves."
"I believe your face annoys them," was the kindly grunted reply.
Yea, son of man, keep it moving. We sons of dragons need a proper place to slumber, and your bony shoulders aren't ideal, Manny treasonously agreed.
Harry happily took his mind off the elf-witch they were traveling to meet and bantered with his snake. Sons of dragons? Pfft, more like daughters of crocodiles. You're constantly PMSing and I know how much you love the water.
… Not okay, Harry. My great-uncle was eaten by a crocodile. Manny slid from Harry's hood and into the internally-expanded pack slung across his back.
Well, that was a short conversation.
His hopes of pleasant conversation crushed, Harry continued the rest of the journey in silence, content to practice his occlumency while his body followed beside Gimli. When he was next broken from of his trance, it was to Haldir announcing they had arrived at Caras Galadhon, the main city of Lórien where they would be presently meeting with the rulers before being shown to their accommodations.
Harry blinked himself alert and found that he had ended up between Gandalf and Strider. "Rulers? As in plural; multiple beings? I thought this land was claimed by a single she-witch-elf." He ignored the narrowed eyes he received from every elf in the vicinity and turned his head to Strider, who he trusted to give less biased information than certain old wizards who couldn't answer questions properly.
"Lady Galadriel rules Lothlórien together with her husband, Lord Celeborn," the Ranger replied simply.
"Ah," Harry pondered aloud, "A happily married couple, then?"
"For many centuries, I am to believe."
"How lovely. I've only met elves that seem to be stricken with the worst sort of sexual frustration- I'm not referring to anyone in particular, of course-, so this ought to prove a nice change, maybe even an educational experience."
Strider gave no reply to that. Harry hadn't been expecting one, but the lack of response was satisfying nonetheless.
Haldir and the rest of the elves of Lothlórien broke away and Gandalf took over leading the group as they neared the great hall. Harry used this chance to study the place they would be seeking refuge. The elven city was a magnificent spectacle; the buildings appeared to be made of some alloy while also merging with the powerful trees that housed them, as though crafted from the same wood. There was a majestic grace to the forest, similar to Rivendell, but at the same time so different. The natural light of the declining sun was largely blocked by the towering trees, and yet the city glowed. Perhaps it was because the city was so close, closer than he'd been in months, to his home in the Forest of Fangorn that Harry felt himself start to relax. He walked beside Strider up the stone staircase and through dangling vines spotted with blue buds.
Once the group crested the stairs and Gandalf called them to a halt, Harry remembered why he was supposed to be nervous. Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn stood from their woven thrones when the Fellowship came into their sight and descended from an elevated platform. The Lady was the first to greet them, approaching Gandalf with a serene smile and beckoning arms.
"Dearest friend, it warms the heart to see you well before me this day," Galadriel sighed as she embraced the wizard. Gandalf seemed mildly surprised by the publicly affectionate greeting, but wrapped his own arms around her in kind. "I know not why, but I feared you would not enter my lands with the company, and your appearance now unburdens me of these troubled thoughts."
"My Lady, nothing could keep me away," Gandalf assured her as he pulled away. Despite his affirming words, a shadow crossed his face, one that fled after darkening his brow for only a moment.
Galadriel stepped back and gazed at each member of the Fellowship in turn until they met her blue eyes- eyes that pierced their souls explored their desires, and left without passing judgement, for it wasn't her place at this time. When she turned to the last man in the row, Harry, she didn't have to wait at all, for his gaze had been set on her since he first saw her.
The Lady of Lórien was a beautiful woman with timeless features and an eternal glow that was brighter than any other elf he'd met. But it was neither her beauty nor her power that drew Harry; it was her wise eyes that spoke of a world only she was privy to, only she understood. They were Luna's eyes, and Harry could see his old friend before the magic and life had been drained from her in the elf before him so clearly that when the nudge came tapping at his mental walls, he allowed access, his earlier caution mostly abandoned. He allowed her to view the last day, the trip to Lothlórien, Merry's vacant eyes, the Balrog, the snowstorm and avalanche, leaving Rivendell, and an image of Luna. Then he stopped the reel and took back control, effortlessly now that he was prepared, bringing them to a blank room in his mind where Galadriel could find out no more about him, but still act as a guest if she wished.
The two faced each other in silence, then Harry could feel her pulling out and he was looking into her eyes again instead of an incorporeal form.
She whispered in his mind, "Thank you for saving him. You may have done it unknowingly, but thank you. You have greatly altered the fate of this Fellowship, Harry Potter, though if for better or for worse has yet to be seen."
Galadriel turned away from Harry and back to Gandalf. Their encounter had lasted no longer than the others. With no extra attention brought on him Harry allowed himself the luxury of studying his fellow travelers and the effects the Lady had on them while pondering the odd gratitude he had received in anonymity. Boromir looked like he was about to either hurl or cry.
"What is it you seek here, Gandalf the Gray?"
Gandalf dipped his head humbly in acknowledgement of the question. "We have come to ask for sanctuary, for in the midst of our travels we have found ourselves in need of a respite."
"But that is not all." Galadriel turned to Frodo. "You carry a great burden with you, young one. Greater than any else present. What is it you seek here?"
Frodo seemed unsurprised at the question; it wasn't hard to guess that she had already brought the subject up during their mind chat. After a shared glance with Sam, he assured, "at this time, we seek only shelter and rest."
"And of course," Galadriel assured with a benevolent tilt of her lips, "Given my husband's permission, we shall grant your request."
Celeborn took his cue, stepping forward beside his wife and scanning the Fellowship as she had, his eyes coming to rest on Harry. The new scrutiny caught the younger wizard's attention. "Ten there are here, yet nine set out. Where did this addition hail from?"
"He came across part of our party in the town of Bree, and agreed to join us at Rivendell, albeit as an unofficial member. With a sword he is adept, and along with other talents he has proven useful in our journey," Gandalf swiftly supplied before Harry could give his unhelpful answer of 'Little Whinging'. Overall, Harry accepted Gandalf's as the better reply and returned to his silent contemplations, keeping half his mind on the conversation between Istari and King. He'd have no further part to play until he could speak with either Galadriel or Gandalf one on one.
"Very well," Celeborn accepted. "Then let us get to the heart of the matter."
"Yes, let's."
The two elders conversed; goals for the Fellowship were discussed, nothing was guaranteed beyond a few days, little more was suggested, and temporary arrangements were made. When the negotiations between Gandalf and Celeborn had concluded, and before Harry could make a move, the Lady whisked Gandalf out of the room for a private interview, the Lord elf following behind at a languid walk.
"Ah," Harry sighed, seeing them walk out of view. A conference with either of them would have to be delayed, then. "So," he turned towards his eight companions, the only other occupants of the throne room since the non-Legolas elves had all spontaneously disappeared, "Anyone hungry?"
"I believe I heard mention of an awaiting meal in the gardens," Strider offered after a general murmur of yes's arose.
"If there is free food there," Harry worked out slowly, "Then why are we still here?"
Pippin nodded. "Seconded." He waited expectantly, then nudged Merry, who started.
"What?"
"Food, Merry."
"Fourthed!"
Harry nodded. "That's not a word and we were going for three, but good enough. Let's go! And Pippin," he pulled the hobbit to the side as the others began traveling back down the staircase. "Can you keep an eye on Merry? He seems a bit… absent. I don't know if he's usually like that, but, you know, strangers in a strange land; you can never be too careful."
"He is definitely off." Pippin frowned. "I've noticed it for a while, and I can't quite figure out what it is. He's still Merry, but there's just something… missing," he finished uncertainly. "It could be the stress of the whole trip getting to him, or to me. Not like it has been a vacation or anything."
"Bloody right it hasn't. It's probably nothing, but a healthy dosage of paranoia never hurts. Well, unless you're in a relationship; then it just gets you slapped. Or sometime… Anyway, Constant Vigilance."
The two caught up with the rest of the party and arrived in a tranquil patio garden branching off of what must have been a kitchen. There were nuts, fruits, vegetables, fish, and mead spread out liberally on the tables. Before an hour passed the entire group had been mellowed by ale and were swapping stories to such a personal degree Harry was beginning to regret asking the elves for a second barrel of alcohol to be brought out.
"And then," Gimli continued, "In the wee hours of the morning, my brethren and I'd make swift out of the gates, past the patrol, to the lakes, disrobe, and—"
"And that's my cue to leave," Harry declared when Gimli began to reenact his tale.
"Agreed," Boromir slurred, standing unsteady from his chair along with Harry. "I have no further wish to see any of that. Now… where are we to go?"
As if signaled, two elves appeared and offered to show Harry and Boromir to their rooms. They parted from the rest and followed their guides down the winding paths through the enchanting forest. Harry didn't pay too much mind when Boromir and his elf split away down a different hall, but it was impossible to ignore when his own guide vanished. Though the guard was hidden from his view, Harry felt his footsteps on the grass veer away behind a stone arc to his right, and two more sets approaching him from behind to the left. Easily guessing who the footsteps belonged to, Harry stared despondently at the empty space in front of him for a second longer before turning around to greet his hostess and the greyed wizard, the two he had wanted to talk to, though preferably on separate occasions.
"An ambush? Against a wasted young man? That's low, Gandalf."
Gandalf smiled benignly, coming into view. "Why, yes. Yes it is, I suppose. Ha."
"We had no such intentions, Black Wizard," Galadriel soothed gently as they stopped in front of Harry. They were in an open hall with pillars of white stone wrapped in glowing flowers that offered light on either side. Plenty of escape routes, then.
Harry snorted. "You've been speaking with the old man too much, my Lady. I do go by Harry, as you noted earlier during our chat, and I'd be honored if you'd call me such."
"You are correct in your assumption, Harry; Gandalf and I have been discussing at length these past few hours. And one topic that has come up is you. What he has observed, and what I have summarized from your memories."
"Oh?" Harry asked in genuine surprise. He didn't think he revealed anything vital, and nothing from before he arrived in Middle Earth besides Luna. "And what has caught your attention?"
"Your ring."
"Ah, yes? What about?" Shite. Forgot about the Hallows. This conversation could be beneficial, though. It's about time I figured out the connection between the One Ring and mine, or if there is any at all.
Galadriel dropped her gaze to where Harry's hands rested in his pockets, the Resurrection Stone sitting innocently on his finger out of view. After a moment she met his eyes again.
"I would like to show you something. Please, follow me."
The Lady led Harry farther into the kingdom, Gandalf at her side. They entered a structure more heavily guarded than the others, and after passing down many flights of stairs they eventually reached a fairly spacious room with walls decorated in elegant drapes despite the lack of windows. There were many tables and a large desk spread throughout the space, each covered neatly in a variety of knickknacks, some moving jollily on their own and others still in a threatening don't touch me or you'll regret it when your fingers burn off sort of way. It wasn't exactly the type of place Harry was expecting he'd be led to. Once he stepped through the threshold, Galadriel closed the heavy door behind him and Harry could feel the impact as the room was cut off from the outside flow entirely, including magically. At her urging, Harry took a seat while Gandalf leaned against the door. He had a feeling he wouldn't be leaving for a while.
"This is my private study, one in which we will not be disturbed. And this," she pulled a chain off her neck to reveal the intricately designed white ring hanging from it, "Is Nenya, one of three rings gifted to the elves by Sauron."
"Heavens above, there are more of them?" Harry cursed before he could stop himself. He remembered Strider mentioning other, weaker rings that had been made, but he'd hoped after the devastation they'd caused the first go around someone would have had to good sense to destroy the weapons. Then, taking a closer look, he realized that this ring, while also carrying a weight of power, was nothing like the one Frodo carried with him. When Harry breathed around the One Ring, he felt like the very air was gravel grinding in his teeth, and his next exhale would come with a mouthful of blood and flesh torn from his mouth. This one, Nenya… he sensed no hostility whatsoever, and only felt trace residue of the evil that clung gathered in a heavy cloud around Sauron's.
Galadriel nodded. "Nineteen Rings of Power were made alongside the One Ring. They were meant to be tools of Sauron towards the purpose of reining the leaders of men, dwarves, and elves under his sway."
"Sounds like a present I would definitely keep around my neck."
"His plan, however, didn't work on the elves," she continued without pause, "As we saw through his intent as soon as he put on his own ring. Since he fell and the One Ring was lost, I and the other keepers, Elrond and Círdan, have repurposed the power of our rings towards protecting our lands and ensuring peace."
"But now Sauron is back and the One Ring is enjoying a drinking party not too far away. His return presents a serious problem," Harry summarized. A tingling sensation caught his attention, and he looked down in surprise to see that he had been twisting the Gaunt Ring on his finger. He froze his movements when Galadriel smiled in quiet resignation at him.
"I had previously worn Nenya as you do yours; proudly on display, for despite its origins, it gives me the power I need to keep my people safe and my kingdom thriving. But during the war, Sauron utilized the rings to see through the eyes of their holders and influence their actions. Since his return, I've taken caution in how and when I use Nenya, and even still I can feel my power wavering while Sauron's armies grow ever stronger. What you're a part of, the quest to destroy the One Ring, will do more than decrease Sauron's power. With his ring gone, Sauron will be no more, his armies will fall to ruin, and the upcoming war threatening to tear our world apart will end."
"I'm sure," Harry stated slowly as he considered her words, "That your speech would be far more effective on Frodo, and you no doubt plan to give it to him in order to steel his resolve. No judgement there. But what is it you want from me? I hold not the Ring, and I've already pledge my services to the Fellowship. I've heard most of this information before as well."
"We were hoping," Gandalf spoke for the first time, "That your past could provide a fresh outlook, perhaps even a new solution. Besides, this is a conversation we've put off too long."
Harry hummed in agreement, keeping his eyes on Nenya. "I was wondering when you'd bring that up. Can't skate it forever, I suppose. If it's story time, why don't we all get comfortable?"
Once he managed to convince Galadriel and Gandalf to take a seat with him, Harry began to recount his tale all the way through for the first time since he'd been dropped into Middle Earth. He did his best to stay impersonal in front of Galadriel, only stating the facts of his Wizarding World and the lack of integration with the rest of humanity. He glossed over a lot of his time at Hogwarts- he didn't once turn to Gandalf during his speech with Dumbledore's image too close to the surface- and skipped his childhood almost entirely. It wasn't until he reached Voldemort and the Horcruxes that he delved into detail, restating every bit he could remember being told or reading about. Galadriel seem especially disturbed when he told her of the process behind making a Horcrux: the splitting of a soul requires the sacrifice of a soul.
He could reveal a more detailed version of his own life with Gandalf at a later date. And maybe the other members of the Fellowship as well, one day.
"Fascinating," Galadriel breathed when he'd concluded. "A whole other world with humans, Istari, dwarves, and elves, one we would have never known of if not for you. What this could entail… the possibilities it suggests… The Valar truly work in mysterious ways."
"Yeah," Harry agreed drily. "I've had a lot of time to think on that. Way I'd guess it, there are a certain number of all-powerful beings, and they monkey about the universe creating new planes to their whimsy, establishing themselves as gods and creators as they go for the heck of it. My Death is the same as your Mandos, and from what I've heard your Valar fit fairly close with my world's mythology of the Olympians. However, we haven't gathered to talk on the secrets of existence, fun as it may be."
Galadriel nodded slowly. "Of course. So you believe these 'Horcruxes' may be related to Sauron's creation of the Ring? He's undeniably taken ample life for the sacrifice," she added grimly.
"I'd bet on it, if I ever get that salary. But it doesn't bring any new information to the table. As long as the Ring is still around, Sauron can't be killed permanently; we know that. It was a bit easier to destroy the Horcruxes in my experience- no volcano in the middle of Voldemort's empire required- but Elrond made it clear there was no other way. Would have fiendfyred the blasted ring otherwise. And there is little chance they're exactly the same anyway since Sauron wouldn't even know about Horcruxes and their use; his One Ring is probably some bastardized version he unintentionally created by injecting part of his soul into it in a bid for more power. Sorry."
"No apology necessary," Galadriel assured, slowly rising from her seat and walking over to a white glass orb on the wood desk. She caressed it softly for several moments, then turned back to Harry.
"Many thanks for your assistance and cooperation. Even if it yielded nothing useful in regards to the present situation, you've given me much to ponder on during a later time."
"If we all survive and the world doesn't go 'splat' into a windshield of death, you mean?"
That got the first genuinely amused smile Harry had seen out of Galadriel. "I am unfamiliar with the analogy, but I concur with the general concept, yes."
~ Three Days Later ~
The Fellowship was granted the rest they so desperately needed over the following days and all were content, excluding Harry when he was manhandled into a thorough examination by the elven healers- no doubt, he kept muttering, at Gandalf's plotting.
Currently, Harry was placed on the ledge of an overhanging roof sheltering a porch beneath it, one of many such structures that littered the civilization. Sam, Merry, and Pippin were playing with the horses in the elves' stable within view of him in the dimming dusk, and they were providing a suitable source of entertainment since 'playing' was a term loosely employed to describing their complete failure at getting the horses to so much as acknowledge them. The horsemen guarding the stables were also less than helpful in the hobbits' endeavor- and just what that was, Harry had yet to figure out- but were adding to the overall comedy for observers, so he abstained from interfering.
"Enjoying the spectacle, Black Wizard?"
"It's a tragic comedy, I believe," Harry answered immediately. "They want the horses to engage with them, but they won't, then half the cast dies, but it's alright because in the end we learn the horses were jerks anyway and Pippin adopts an orphaned bunny."
"Classic." Gandalf sank down on his haunches next to Harry, who was laid out stomach-down with his head sticking out over the brink to achieve maximum visual on the scene below. "Should we not offer the hobbits assistance out of the predicament they've landed themselves into?"
"Feel free to participate. I prefer to watch."
Rather than the comment on his poorly executed, weak innuendo or the painful continuation of the matter that Harry was expecting, Gandalf asked, "Do you hate me?"
Harry blinked in surprise as one of the horses finally gave into Merry's persistence and aimed a harsh bite at his hand. The other hobbits' voices rose in protest, but the guards appeared unmoved. "Pardon?"
"Apologies. That was a poor choice of words. I meant, do you distrust me now?"
Harry felt no closer to comprehending Gandalf's meaning. "… Pardon? Distrust you? Do I have reason to?"
"There is no need for you to attempt to spare my feelings. You haven't been able to stand the sight of me for days; even now you don't look at me. And I can't blame you. The Balrog was my responsibility, my burden, and yet it fell to you to face his wrath. I left you in the mines, and for that I will never forgive myself."
That clears things up a bit, I suppose. But why is he bringing this business up now?
Harry craned his head up to stare pointedly at Gandalf. "While I appreciate the sentiment, I disagree with the principle. You forced nothing on me; the bridge fractured at an inopportune time and I had to improvise. No fault lies with you. Besides, all ended well. I escaped without serious injury, the Balrog is very much dead, and Manny learned a valuable life lesson about personal space. I've been ignoring you, yes, but I haven't spent much time with the others either and have sought the companionship of myself only. Frankly, there are some personal problems I've to deal with that, I admit with shame, have been influencing my actions."
"Be that as it may-" Gandalf abruptly cut off. "… You slew the Balrog?"
"Well, I certainly didn't ask him for a lift across the chasm."
"That… changes the situation," Gandalf said. He was obviously disconcerted, and Harry was unaccustomed to the older wizard revealing conflict so visually. Then he relaxed, wrinkles settling back into soft ripples of his skin rather than barriers preparing for an impending battle. "Fate will play herself out as she sees fit. We are powerless to sway her, at least in this."
"What is 'this', exactly?"
Gandalf answered the question with one of his own.
"How do you always sense me coming?"
"How do you manage to keep your beard so clean during weeks of sustained travel on the road?"
"Magic."
"Magic."
Harry felt a familiar ease settle over him as he and Gandalf shared a grin, and he pushed himself up in preparation to stand when a scream reached his ears. Bolting up, and nearly falling off the roof as a result, Harry searched for the source with all of his senses. His physical perception failed him, but his magic easily identified the freshly made void within the boundaries of Lothlórien. He paled once he realized the implications of what he sensed, and stopped moving entirely when he accepted that he shouldn't have the ability to know this at all. Hearing the voices of the long dead he could handle, maybe even grow to appreciate; this was a different story.
"What is wrong?" Gandalf demanded when he remained frozen for several seconds. "Harry?"
"Somebody just died."
Then the first scream audible to those besides the Master of Death echoed through the forest.
Harry was on the ground and sprinting within the moment, overtaking the elven horsemen who mount and rode towards the sound as well. He could hear Gandalf following close behind, but he wasted no time in wondering how those old bones could keep up with him. As trees and buildings became a solid blurred wall on either side of him, Harry started picking up clear noises of fighting ahead.
He drew his wand and cast a shielding charm as a precaution when he recognized he was approaching the outskirts of the kingdom, and was rewarded with a precisely thrown axe that would have cleaved his forehead in two from directly in front of him. In the murky darkness, it was difficult to pick out his enemies as they moved like shadows; he aimed a severing charm at a movement in the corner of his eyes, and took off a branch rather than an arm. Taking a moment to focus and regroup his thoughts, Harry glanced around. Catching sight of a shadowy figure, he trained his eyes on it: graceful and slim, but too stretched out, with arms that nearly reached the knees and its entire length easily seven feet. Not a man then, neither dwarf nor hobbit, elves wouldn't attack Galadriel's domain, and the shape was wrong for a goblin or orc. But whatever they were, they appeared to be proving effective against Lothlórien's quickly amassed defense. They were stalled away from the civilians for now, but had already managed to breach the borders without raising alarm, a feat on its own.
Dodging an arrow that came from above, slipping by his shield, Harry decided to shine some light on the situation.
"Expecto Patronum!"
The shining stag burst out of his wand and dashed forward without preamble, lighting up the forest with its brilliance. This elicited a startled cry as a creature fell from the trees over Harry, and he was forced to jump back to avoid the plummeting mass. It withered on the ground before him, screeching as it threw its forearms over its eyes and tried to bury its head in the dirt simultaneously. With a jolt, Harry realized his earlier assumption was wrong; they were orcs. Faster, stealthier, and probably cleverer orcs based on their movements in the woods compared to Harry's experience with the usual breed in an open field of combat, but sporting the same misshapen features and heavily scarred flesh.
Looking up, he saw creatures of the same ilk that had been previously battling the elves, as well as the warriors of the Fellowship at this point, also falling to the ground in pain, shielding themselves from the light. However, as swords, arrows and axes descended upon distorted flesh in what should have been a swift victory with their distraction, a lack of black blood flowed. The elves continued to hack at the creatures' backs and upper arms, but to no avail. After a solid minute of useless battering that left no mark upon the gruesome figures, the orcs seemed get ahold of themselves and rose from the ground, using their pain from the light to drive their strength to higher levels.
"Harry!" He spun around to see Strider fending off a swarm of the beasts with Legolas, who had abandoned his bow in favor of twin daggers, at his back. "They cannot be cut by steel; our blades may as well be slicing at stone."
"What luck," Harry remark, canceling his now ineffective patronus and raising his wand to the crowd as several orcs broke off to go after him. "I just happen to forget my sword today. Expulso."
With his own rage driving the spell, the helmet he'd aimed at imploded into a fifth of its size, crushing the head of the orc it was meant to be protecting. It dropped to the ground, unmoving. Satisfied with his success, Harry merrily aimed the spell at every creature with a helmet he could spot, then proceeded on to chest plates. However, very few were wearing armor, likely due to their impenetrable hides, so Harry moved through his repertoire of curses and charms that didn't require breaking flesh to be deadly.
"Forget poking at them," Harry advised Strider once he finished off the cluster surrounding them. "Either find something to bludgeon them with, or search for Galadriel. Magic seems to be most effective against them, and she, Gandalf and I are the only magic-users I'm aware of close enough to help."
"Yes," Strider agreed, staring down at the bodies in various stages of dismantlement on the forest floor. "Very effective. I will stay and fight."
Legolas nodded, stepping over a halved body towards them. "Then I shall seek Galadriel. I worry that she has taken so long to join us already."
"I'll join Gimli in his battle," Strider gestured to where the dwarf was engaged with a line of orcs from his place atop a bolder, two creature coming at him for every one he batted away with his axe. "Then we will attempt to locate Boromir."
"Perfect. I think I'll take a walk. Admire the sights," Harry agreed readily, anxious to return to his slaughter and end the fight. The first death had inaugurated a flood of loses as warriors fell to the enhanced orcs. Harry hadn't kept count, but he estimated at least ten elves lost. Galadriel would not be pleased.
The battle continued; Harry weaved a tangled path as he took down every one of the creatures he could find, dealing far more damage than the deep cuts he received from stray hits. He got brief glimpses of Gimli and Strider, and eventually Boromir when they found each other, and helped them out with a spell or two before he was drawn away to a more densely populated area. These orcs were smarter than others of their kind, and mostly spread themselves out in the tighter spaces, but they were still functioning loosely as pack creatures. Harry used that fact to his advantage. At one point, he passed over the summit of a depression to see a sword, flail, and spear pierce the battered body of an elf below at the same instance, killing her immediately. The sharp ache in his chest and the cries in his head drove Harry into a mindset he hadn't occupied since before the bomb ended Voldemort's war so many years ago.
A hissed "Evanesco" vanished the three orcs from existence.
Harry was eventually driven from his red haze by a strong voice, one he recognized, with relief, as belonging to Galadriel.
"Enough. Cease." A blast of pure white power bathed the battleground in its light; no shadow survived in its wake, the planes that make up sight washing away in a moment that blinded all save the caster.
The moment passed, and Harry was left blinking rapidly to dispel the lingering blackness in his vision. Once it cleared, he was unsurprised to see Galadriel standing tall in a flowing gown, her crown the only hint of armor adorning her body, with her hand raised to reveal Nenya as the source of the power. The orcs were all strewed on the ground, showing no signs of regaining consciousness like the few elves who'd been knocked out as well. Harry grinned; that was one way to obliterate an army suffering from a susceptibility to light. I wish the Resurrection Stone was half that cool.
Fighting completed, Harry turned his attention towards finding the rest of the Fellowship. Gliding through the land unseen, he silently found Strider, Gimli and Boromir conferring with Legolas in the middle of a bloody field, all keeping an eye over their shoulders. Frodo had met up with the other hobbits, and all were safe in the care of the trio of guards assigned to the ring bearer after their arrival. Nearly all of his friends accounted for, Harry allowed himself to relax and seek out Galadriel to figure out how a pack of new and improved orcs found their way onto her lands, her supposedly super-protected safe haven.
"Brilliant work with the ring," Harry commented, approaching the Lady after she had the chance to speak with several of the elvish warriors, probably about damage and death estimates by the grim set of her jaw. "Certainly blows Gandalf and me out of the water, at the very least. I want to have a death ray setting on my ring."
Galadriel's face grew tenser, and she asked lowly, "Gandalf? Did you keep account of his movements, where he has gone?"
Harry frowned. "Not since before I heard of the breach. We were together by the stables, and he followed me until we came across the first orc at least, but I know not of his activities after that. Why?"
"I have not yet had communications with him, post-battle. I seek his council, but he isn't to be found; none of my chiefs have seen him erect, nor among the legions of the prone dead or injured."
Harry felt a sense of dread, but forced himself to ask, "What does that mean?"
Galadriel gazed at Harry blankly rather than answering. "You have an arrow in your shoulder."
"Do you not know where Gandalf is? Whether he is alive?"
"I do not," Galadriel was forced to admit. "But-"
"Do you have everything under control here?" Harry impatiently interrupted.
"The beasts are largely dead, and those who aren't will be bound before they awakened. We-"
"Good enough. I'll be back soon." Harry apparated away to a deserted field outside of Lothlórien. If he was going to find out what happened to Gandalf, he had to pull on all of his connections; and, despite his trepidation, he had one reliable way of discovering whether or not Gandalf had survived the battle.
"Mandos!" Harry cried out into the metallic-scented wind. "Death! Whatever you go by! I'm officially summoning you, so haul over."
"Manners, Master, are crucial in negotiation. Such an unwelcoming summons would put off most of eminence like myself."
"Did you take him?"
"Look at me when you ask a favor, Master."
"Did you take him!" Harry roared as he swung around to face the fleshed entity. "Is Gandalf… is he dead?"
"I did not have a hand in his disappearance. But you're right in one aspect," Mandos offered, leaning forward on his cane with both hands, as if about to share some momentous secret. "He's not here."
"I bloody know that! Where is he?"
"…"
"… Please. Servant."
"I can't be sure for I can no longer see his fate. I suspect, though, he is in the hands of Eru Ilúvatar."
Harry had heard that name before, in one of the many stories Legolas fancied telling during their travels. "Eru… as in the Creator of Middle Earth?"
"Yes." Mandos paused, then muttered, "He got here first." Clearing his throat, he continued. "You, Master, have already set Eru's plans back by being your natural, meddling self, and interfering with the Balrog. He won't be postponed any longer. Impatient bugger."
"Is it his plan to have Gandalf die?" Harry asked, horrified.
"Have you not been listening? The thing isn't dead!" Mandos swiftly regained his temper, and said in a sweet voice, "Eru wouldn't allow his pet to be taken by me; not yet. He's probably grooming it as we speak, making it all pretty and clean for his promotion."
"What do you mean?"
"Somebody's got to take over for that other roguish thing. It's so pathetic when an owner can't control his own creations. So amusing…"
Still baffled, for his mind was too rattled to make sense of Death's words, but somewhat consoled, Harry asked once more for reassurance. "So, Gandalf will be alright then?"
Mandos turned his wandering attention back to Harry with narrowed eyes. "My, my, so concerned with others today, aren't we? Funny that, when you can't even see the signs of a grander evil right in front of you. Signs you learned so well during your fourth year of schooling. 'They're never the same, but close enough to pass under the untrained eye'."
Harry was about to prod for further clarification, when suddenly he saw Merry's eyes in the face of Victor Krum during the Triwizard Tournament. In the face of several wizards he had seen under the Unforgivable during the war and in memories from Death Eater trials.
"Imperio," he breathed. "But how could Saruman- how could anyone know-"
"Yes," Mandos nodded in agreement, stepping behind Harry, leaning down until his forehead rested against the hair above Harry's right ear. "There is only one place that contains the knowledge from your Wizarding World here. A place the bad pet would have to find in order to discover the brother to my curse, as well as other toys to tinker with. How concerning…"
Harry apperated to the Forest of Fangorn, his home, without another word.