I'm glad you all loved the humor between Lucius and Sirius last chapter. I wanted them to seem like immature brats. :3 Lol to being an adult. It just means you're a kid who pays taxes. And I have gotten a few tentative paragraphs down for the 'Girl falls into Middle Earth and gets turned into an Orc' story. It seems very interesting to me, and if I get anything better down I might leave a little taste at the end of a chapter sometimes.
Well, they've made it to Helm's Deep. The battle does not start this chapter, because there were just a lot of reunions and plot to advance. But next time…there's war. :O
Chapter 26 – Gathering at Helm's Deep
"Shit. That's a lot of tents."
Sirius had just summed up what everyone else was feeling. As they carefully skirted the huge army of orcs, their nervousness increased. Lucius, Harry, Sirius and Orion were all sweating profusely by the time they brought their numbers to the front of the fort, their energy having been used to cast a large area of Disillusionment charms that, while not making them invisible to the enemy eyes, made them far less noticeable and hard to detect visually.
"The Black Gates house scores more tents than this," Hathalmyrn commented idly. The few that were brave enough to walk near him stared at him with wide eyes. "No one ever said the Fiery Eye was ill prepared for war."
"So what's to prevent them from, Oh I don't know, shoving up their middle fingers and pumping us full of spears and arrows?" Sirius asked. Prince Amir had once again taken his place at the front of their group, having made himself as scarce as possible in the presence of Hathalmyrn.
"Us. The appearance of the Blue Wizards will be your pass," Alatar said confidently. Pollando gave him a friendly grin.
"Aye, but the sight of your face might be more upsetting than comforting," he teased.
"You appear to have something growing out of your neck- oh, it's your face," Alatar replied.
"All right, wizardlings. Alatar and I will do the talking. Prince Amir, I need you up close as a representative. And for Eru's sake, someone hide the Nazgûl!"
They finally made their way up the ramp way of Helm's Deep, their dark armor and blue capes camouflaging them somewhat. Hathalmyrn was standing with his feet on the ground, wrapped in a hooded blue cloak over the top of his black shadowy robe. Pollando lifted a hand as a signal to one of the warriors of Rhûn. Looking nervous, the man put a battle horn to his lips and blew a strong, clear note, announcing their presence.
Then they waited.
James stood in the armory with Draca, magically altering armor for soldiers as they came through. James had altered and donned a breastplate and transfigured some carefully chosen scraps of metal and leather into wing guards that did not interfere with his ability to fly. His head was protected by a helmet that he had turned into a pointed monstrosity that was frightening the very people he was fighting with.
"Naurlam, do you really have to wear that helm?" Aragorn asked, still looking weary from his journey back after the Warg attack.
"This helmet is fabulous and I will strike fear into the hearts of my enemies. Do you think it would look awesome if a shot lightning out of it?" James asked casually, his tail swishing eagerly.
"No it would be horrifying. We already have enough to worry about," Legolas said testily. James turned to the elf, blinking baleful golden eyes.
"I will pimp slap you through the wall, elf. We already have more people than we thought we would, what with the Redlings choosing to fight with us. And then you have me. I'm pretty frigging awesome, shooting fire out of my face and whatnot," James said, nodding to himself. One of the lingering young men looked at him as he tied a leather tunic in place.
"It's true, My Lords. There are many that are saying we are sure to win with the Dragon warrior on our sides," he said shyly.
"As well they should. Bitch, I'm a wizard," he said, holding out his hands. Draca reached over and pinched his inner arm, causing him to yelp like a kicked puppy and cringe inwards. "Mercy, mercy," he cried. She rolled her eyes at him and let go, leaning back on her staff with a small grin.
"So am I," she said haughtily. James sniffed primly and rubbed at his arm.
"You are so very cruel to me," he said with a pout. It was Phelan who appeared around the corner.
"All right, the King needs everyone up top. That means you, too, Shredder," he said, looking pointedly at James. James got an inspired look on his face. "No," Phelan said plainly. James scuffed his boots against the ground.
"Damn it..."
As the men exited the armory he could see Boromir standing to the side, speaking in hushed but fervent tones to Talun. She looked angry, and he had a desperate look on his face as he gesticulated wildly. She made a motion in return, her face twisting and her yellow eyes alight.
"It's because I love you!" he cried suddenly. A few people went silent around them, and Boromir's pale face colored slightly. She turned away from him, her eyes closed as tears leaked from underneath her dark lashes.
"I love you too," she whispered. "This is the reason why I will not go below. I will fight. I will fight in this battle so that my people have honor with the Rohirrim, and one day it won't be such a horrible thing that we are together," she said. He reached forward and drew her into his arms, burying his face into her hair, which had been braided back tightly in many rows, close to her scalp. Her large, pointed ears were more obvious this way, and sported a few metal earrings.
"I cannot change your mind?" he asked, his voice thick. She shook her head.
"Talun, I want you with me. You will start with the archers," Phelan said suddenly. Boromir inhaled sharply, turning his face towards Phelan.
"She will not be allowed to stay with me?" he asked. Phelan gave him a small, understanding smile.
"I've had many couples fight with me over the years, and if there is nothing that I have taken away from it, it's that you will fight better out of each other's eyesight. If you can see her you will try to watch her the whole time, and the opposite is true," he said, turning his gaze on Talun. Her brown cheeks flushed slightly. "So I will take her with me, and I promise that I will keep an eye on her, Master Boromir, and do my best to return her to you in one piece."
Boromir nodded, before adjusting his breastplate and standing straight and tall. Of course, it was a stupid question. It was done with brothers and other relatives all the time. Boromir's gaze flickered to where James was standing, and took in his ensemble. James caught him staring, and flashed him a fanged grin.
"Don't worry so much, mate. We may get some more help before the night is through," he said. Boromir narrowed his eyes at him, but was interrupted by the sound of a loud, clear horn being blown.
"That is no orc horn," Legolas said.
"At the gate! They're at the gate!" They heard a voice cry.
They moved quickly, coming upon the king as he looked down onto the ramp that led to the main gate of the keep.
"Who stands at the gate? Who are you, that bear the standard of Rhûn yet do not draw your swords?" Théoden called down. Two figures in blue robes stepped forward, each holding a staff. There seemed something familiar about them, something altogether comforting.
"We are the Blue Wizards!" Called Alatar, motioning between them. "Allies to the Free Peoples of Middle Earth and come to you in this grave time! We bring to you a force of renegades, an army of Rebels fighting the Dark Lord and wishing to ally themselves with the Men of the West. They are led by one of the Princes of the capitol of Rhûn, Prince Amir, who would speak on the behalf of his family and people."
There was silence for a few moments from Théoden, before he motioned a hand for the Prince to step forward. Amir was just above average height, with black hair and a neatly trimmed beard. His golden crown sat primly on his head, contrasting with his dark skin. His armor and blue cloak were fetching and dangerous looking.
"I stand in the presence of the people of Rohan, humbling myself before you. There has been many times before when our people have stood on the opposite sides of the battlefield, our animosity sharp and our blades angry. My people have stood with the Shadow, and many still do. But there is little choice for them. We do not have such allies as the Peoples of the West. Mordor sits beneath us, simmering and boiling its hate against us if we do not comply. I come with the secret blessing of the King of Rhûn, who wants nothing but prosperity and peace for his people.
If you will have us, we will fight with you, Rohan. If you will have us, we will add our men and women to your numbers. Four hundred warriors do I bring before you, ready to submit to the will of the King of Rohan. If you turn us aside we will not stand against you. We will return to our land, but know that we will not be able to offer this alliance again," Amir said, his accented voice carrying into the air.
"Four hundred men would more than double our numbers," Aragorn said softly, standing just behind Théoden.
"We offer food and provisions of war for you, Great King of the Grasslands," Amir added, motioning behind him at several wagons in the midst of them. "And we offer the aid of wizards! Not only to the Blue Wizards stand with us, but we have four others as our allies, travelers of a great distance and gifted greatly of magic."
Sirius, Lucius, Orion and Harry were brought closer to the front standing with Alatar and Pollando as Amir spoke. There was suddenly a commotion on the top of the gate, and a large shape leapt gracefully off of the stonework, spreading large wings and landing in a crouched position below.
"James!" Harry cried, shoving Lucius as he rushed forward. James pulled off his helmet, dropping it to the ground as the two met each other in a few bounding steps, each clinging desperately to the other as Harry whispered into James' wild hair.
"Who is that?" Boromir asked. Phelan grinned widely.
"That is James' father, Harry Potter," he said.
"Wait…his father is…normal?" Boromir asked from atop the gate. "It somehow seems so…wrong."
"Nay. It's just right," Phelan said softly, smiling at the scene below. He saw Sirius and Orion standing there and barked out a laugh, throwing his head back and howling in greeting. Orion, standing slightly shorter than his father, jumped in surprise before he tossed back his head and returned the howl.
"Where is Draca?" Lucius asked, no longer able to stay silent as the King regarded all of them. James finally separated from his father, his eyes glimmering with joy and hope.
"She is below in the caves, heading up the healers and helping keep watch over the women and children. She will be so happy to see you," James commented. Lucius merely stared at him. James smiled sadly, and then turned his back to them, looking up at the King.
"What say you, Théoden King? These wizards are of fine caliber, and anyone allied with them would be a great boon to your army!" James called. He could see the blue eyes of the King staring out over the assembled group. As the light of day faded he could see the hope in their dark eyes as the warriors clung to their bows and spears and swords, and the hope in the eyes of the women as they held their children close.
Did he not know the feeling of being helpless to help one's people? Did he not know the horror of standing alone against the Shadow? How could he turn away such a wonderful gift? Surely Eru himself had sent them.
"Long ago our alliances cast us as enemies. We fought and died on opposite sides of the battlefield. Let us cast away the bonds of hatred and forge new ones! Let us pledge our allegiance to the betterment of our people! Let us stand against the Shadow together! Men of Rhûn. Warriors of the East. You are most welcome," he said, spreading his arms in a gesture of welcome. "Open the gates!"
There was a great cheer amongst the people of Rhûn as the King of Rohan accepted them. They were allowed to enter the Deep, the warriors being quickly and efficiently separated from the civilians, who were allowed to follow escorts down into the cave to be kept safe. The several Rhûnic healers were taken to the infirmary, and the supplies of war were quickly spread amongst the soldiers. The pale men of the West and the dark men of the East clasped hands in brotherhood for the first time, the people of Rohan being relieved as their numbers swelled.
Phelan, Orion and Sirius were standing together, speaking rapidly. James and Harry were helping divide up the supplies. It was James' sharp eyes that finally caught sight of the blue-hooded figure that kept trying to blend into the shadows. Harry's eyes followed James' and he swallowed hard at the look on James' face.
"That's a Nazgûl," James said suddenly. Théoden stopped in mid-sentence with the Prince Amir, turning to James with a strange look on his face.
"What did you say?" he asked. James was staring hard at Hathalmyrn.
"That's a Nazgûl," he repeated. Hathalmyrn held up gloved hands.
"I come with the green-eyed wizard. I assure thee I wilt fight with Master's allies!" he said. Many eyes turned to Harry, who looked extremely uncomfortable.
"It's Lucius' fault!" he blurted.
"My fault! You were the one who was trying to save Black from that god-forsaken fever!" Lucius snapped. "I merely severed the monster from the connection to the Dark Lord!"
"Yes, and then it bound itself to me. So it's your fault!" Harry returned.
"So it's ours? We have a Nazgûl? I can't….I can't even begin to explain how amazing this is," James said, peering curiously at the wraith.
"You're not concerned? How is that even possible?" Legolas asked, the hair on the back of his neck prickling as everyone stared uncomfortably at the cloaked specter.
"I'm actually rather accepting of magical mysteries…." James said, snorting a handful of sparks.
"So now there's a Nazgûl," Gimli said, looking strangely unconcerned. Harry nodded.
"It's bound to me. I control Hathalmyrn, here. Unless I order it he's as harmless as a puppy in a rainstorm," Harry said firmly, fixing the wraith with a cool glare. "Isn't that right, Hathalmyrn?"
"Aye, Master. Thou dost know me well," the wraith said, plucking at the unfamiliar blue robes.
"Aww...that one is Hathalmyrn? Can't we trade it in for the Witch King? Or maybe even Khamûl? He's pretty badass," James said. The wraith huffed slightly.
"Murazor is a pompous bastard and Khamûl prances about like a peacock, preening himself before the Dark Lord and trumpeting his successes. The youngest I may be, but thou wouldst be surprised at what I have heard. Thou shouldst not underestimate me," Hathalmyrn said stubbornly. Harry saw the King of Rohan tilt his head forward, pinching the bridge of his nose and hitching up his shoulders.
"I'm getting a massive headache from all of these surprises," he groaned.
James turned to his father. "You came to fight, then?" he asked. Harry nodded.
"I know a thing or two about fighting Dark Lords. Figured I'd lend a bit of aid," he said, reaching up and running a hand through his greying hair. James saw the streaks of grey through the black hair, but did not comment on it.
"You'll be careful?" James asked quietly, sounding much-too-young at that moment. Harry put his hand on James' shoulder.
"Son, I'm the Boy-Who-Lived, not Died. God, James, it's like you didn't pay attention in History of Magic," Harry said, a lopsided grin coming to his face. Those watching likened it to seeing an older version of James' face, lightly lined with age and yet still exuberant.
"More like the Boy-Who-Sassed," James replied. Harry put his hand on James' head, drawing them close until their foreheads touched. Green and Gold met as father and son stared at each other intensely.
"I would never presume to try and talk you out of this battle. So I will only ask you to be careful, too. I promised your mother I'd bring you back," Harry said quietly. Harry could smell the smoke on James' breath, something he never thought he'd smell again. James smiled wanly.
"Can't upset mum. There's nowhere far away enough to hide," he replied quietly. Harry's head was thrown back as he laughed uproariously.
"Nowhere far away enough indeed," he snickered. Then he clapped James on the arm. "Shall we take our places, my lad?"
"We shall, padre mine. Good luck," James said. Harry nodded sharply.
Lucius slipped quietly away from them all, disappearing into the keep in search of his granddaughter.
Celebrían stared in awe at the new wave of healers as they brought crate after crate of supplies into the room. Draca had already moved into action, ordering some of the Rohirric healers to start getting the supplies ready for the arrival of wounded.
"I'm surprised, though I shouldn't be. When there are wizards involved things can get crazy," Celebrían said, opening a box of rolled bandages to stack neatly against the wall.
"I hope to meet Morinehtar and Rómestámo soon. I met Radagast a few times. He was sweet as the basil he was so fond of carrying around," Draca said. Celebrían laughed lightly.
"Yes, well. I've met Gandalf and Saruman both, before the White Wizard betrayed us all. I must say I always liked Gandalf's personality better. Saruman is wickedly intelligent, but he was always very…" Celebrían trailed off, unsure how to diplomatically explain the wizard's temperament.
"Brusque?" she asked.
"That's a good word for it!" the elf Lady replied. They worked in silence for a bit.
"Are you excited to see your husband soon?" Draca asked. Celebrían paused, looking at the soft roll of un-dyed fabric in her hand. She took a deep breath.
"Aye. I want to look into his eyes again. They were like the sky before a summer rain, warm and comforting. The twins got their father's eyes, handsome lads as they are," Celebrían mused, a smile lighting up her face. "Elrond always had such a steadiness about him. Like a mountain, strong and tall. Yet when he held me I was in the arms of gentleness embodied. He is so…passionate. About everything he does. When he was the herald of the High King Gil-Galad, he gave himself completely. When he became the bearer of Vilya and then the Lord of Imladris he was no less loyal. When he became a husband….when he became a father," Celebrían spoke, her voice soft as tears came to her eyes. "I wish that I could have gone straight to him. He will not understand, I fear. But I feel that it will not be long before we are reunited."
"It must be nice to have someone that loves you so thoroughly," Draca said softly. Celebrían turned to her, noting the sadness in her face.
"Does the Winged Warrior not love you? He dotes on you," she said. Draca sighed.
"My grandfather never liked him, because he was half-human. And I could never go against my grandfather. He has always been my greatest ally and friend. I love him and miss him so. I thought about him many times over the years. When Saruman would switch me like an errant child, or when Gríma…when he…he…" Draca trailed off, her eyes focused on a point behind the elf-Lady. Celebrían seemed concerned for a moment, before she turned around.
A man stood at the doorway of the infirmary, dressed in travel-worn robes and scuffed boots. His face was lined lightly with age, with bright silver eyes staring at the young Peredhel that was working with her. His hair was just past his shoulders, unbound but braided back in a vaguely elven style. His whole bearing was regal and smooth.
"My sweet," he intoned gently. Draca dropped the roll of bandages she was holding and ran for him desperately, nearly throwing himself into his outstretched arms. Celebrían moved and picked up the discarded roll, smiling at the two.
"Grandfather! Grandfather you're here!" she babbled, kissing his smooth cheek as his hair, so similar to hers, tickled her face. The smell of him was like coming home again after a long day. He smelled a bit wild, and she could tell he had been travelling long, but there was an underlying scent of sandalwood and sage that burned itself into her nostrils as she buried her face into the side of his neck, sobbing in relief. He held her tightly, tucking her head under his chin as tears stained his face.
"Little one, my little one. I am here. I came for you. I love you, my little princess," he babbled gingerly in return. She pulled back, putting her hands to his face as she looked at him.
"I thought I'd never see you again!" Draca cried. He rested a hand against her cheek.
"Time and Space could not keep me from you, hatchling," he said matter-of-factly.
"Oh, grandfather. So much has happened," she exclaimed.
"There will be time for that. I had to see you. I had to know you were safe," he said, kissing her forehead.
"As safe as can be, I suppose. I'm just helping Celebrían set up the infirmary. I feel it's going to be bad," she said. Lucius looked up at the sound of musical laughter.
"I seem to recall it was our little Green Wizard who took charge of the staff, sending them to and fro as they needed to go," Celebrían replied. Lucius looked at her.
"You're an Elf," he said softly. He had, of course, seen the glimpses of the blond Elf upstairs, but this one was a female vision of beauty and light. He'd never been fond of blokes, anyway…
"And you are Half-elf," she replied, still smiling. He heard Draca gasp, and felt her curious fingers push aside his hair, before the sweet sound of her laughter filled his ears.
"You too!" she exclaimed. He looked down at her, and she pushed aside her own long hair, revealing the delicate pointed ears. "James has been taking the mickey out of me for them!" she laughed good-naturedly.
"Black keeps making puns," Lucius grunted. Her face lit up.
"Is Orion here?" she asked.
"I meant his mangy father, but yes, the younger is here as well," he said.
"Oh! I'm glad he's safe. I've missed him too," she said. Lucius' eyes drifted back to her hair. He reached up, running his fingers through the strands. The places streaked with stressed white were textured strangely. "What happened to your hair?" he asked.
Her face changed in an instant, looking shameful and haunted.
"There is not enough time to tell you, grandfather. I have had a very difficult past few years," she said. "And that is all I will say. But I am alive. I am alive and I am not broken."
"I will get the story from you," Lucius said, taking her face in his hands and staring into her silver eyes, so much like his own. She nodded. Then he placed another kiss to her forehead.
"Must you go?" she asked.
"I'm well considering ditching them all and taking you away from this horrible place," he growled. Celebrían made a small noise of consternation.
"That would be treason," she said softly. Lucius' eyes flashed and magic crackled in the air around him like heavy static.
"I have no loyalty to anyone but myself and my family!" he replied. Draca wrapped her arms around him, pressing kisses to his face.
"Do not speak so! They need your magic and the injured will need my healing! I will stay here, you silly, stubborn, wonderful grandfather, you," Draca said, rubbing her cheek against his. He sighed.
"Very well, my love. I shall go make sure Black and Potter do not get themselves shot full of arrows," he gave in.
"Silly man," Draca said fondly. Lucius smiled broadly at her, transforming his face handsomely.
"Only for you, who has ever been as my daughter," he said softly. She returned his broad smile.
"And I hope it shall ever be so," she said. There was a few moments as she debated something. "Ada."
"Dad?" he asked.
"Draco Malfoy gave me life. But you raised me. He's my father, but you're my dad. The Sindarin word describes you well. So you are my Ada," she said. He wrapped her in his arms, holding her close for several moments.
"Then your Ada I shall stay," he said.
They stayed like that for several moments more before they finally separated, allowing Draca to move backwards and Lucius to straighten his robes.
"See you soon, then," Draca said awkwardly, unwilling to say goodbye.
"Not too soon, but soon enough, my love," he said, turning towards the door. "Good luck down here," he added. She nodded.
"Good luck to you too," she replied. He shuffled for a moment.
"Call me that word once more," he said quietly. Draca grinned.
"Good luck, Ada," she said strongly. He nodded, before turning and leaving. With those words still in his ears, he could feel the magic pounding in his blood. Millennia of different magics aided his power.
They would not lose.
Mwa ha ha. Such poignant reunions and sass from Harry Potter. Lolbiscuits. I am still so into this story. I hope you all love the humor and emotion that I try to keep balanced. Does it come off well, or do I lay on the humor too heavily sometimes? I dunno. Mainly it's James I worry about, but when I try to temper him in a scene he basically shoves up both middle fingers and farts fiery comedy all over a scene. :/
Well I've said it before: follow or favorite, but please please please Review! It's my bread and butter. I wuv it.