Welcome back, Mellon-nin!
First of all I want to address a few questions I know you all have been asking or wondering.
1.) If Harry kept his magic then why didn't he use it to escape from the orcs?
Answer: How long do you think has passed since the river and the previous chapter? (Don't you hate it when someone answers a question with a question!). In short, Harry did use magic, but after the last page break in chapter 7 I never stated how much time had passed or in other words, how long Harry has remained a prisoner to the orcs. Chapter 7 has Harry stating that he'd been tortured by the orcs for so long, he didn't remember much about the life he lived before hand(time is comprehended differently by the elves). It is safe to say Harry did use magic, but it just hasn't been written yet.
I planned to skip around in the time line a little bit. More memories will return to him, including scenes where he used his magic in an attempt to free himself.
2.) If Harry used magic, then how could he have not broken out on his own?
Answer: Morgoth, the Master of Sauron, was a Valar who fell from grace and good standing. Sauron was Morgoth's first lieutenant and the only person powerful enough to to push back Sauron-for a limited amount of time-is Galadriel, with the help of Saruman and Elrond. When I first started this fanfic I intended on Harry being placed in time just after the Battle of the Five Armies. However, after writing chapter 7, I decided to place him a few hundred years before the Battle of the Five Armies. So, Sauron will have been gaining strength while Harry was a prisoner. (And just an fyi, Sauron will have created a way for Harry's personality to be changed...and maybe his magic-so he wouldn't fight back).
3.) Harry was such a strong, resilient, and stubborn human in the Deathly Hallows, why make him out to have lost his sanity?
Answer: It has a lot to do with the answer to question two. I've held off answering questions so far, but ultimately decided it would be better to explain things now than continue to confuse my readers.
In short, Harry has been known to wield light magic and a little dark magic (in the Ministry's point of view). Sauron was depicted as being another Dark Lord, taught by his master, who didn't hesitate to use Dark Magic to force others to his will. Sauron used (or rather had his servants use) dark magic on Harry while a prisoner. This was an attempt to force Harry into becoming a wraith-like creature that was bound to follow the orders of his 'Master'.
Elflings are very rare among elves and are guarded and loved jealously, Sauron knows that. The elves would have hesitated, as well as men, to harm a wraith-like elfling. So, to protect him from becoming a wraith, his magic fought back. Whether or not Harry's personality and mind has been altered in an attempt to protect himself and Middle Earth is something that will yet to be decided.
4.) What's the rating and genre of this Fanfic? I feel like it's surpassed a K+ rating.
First, I write my stories as I post them. I don't have the entire story completely written out, only an outline and an idea for the next chapter. Granted, I did notice (after the reviews) I had surpassed the guidelines for a K+ qualifications.
I don't write Mature stories. The highest rating I go to is T. I also won't write any content you wouldn't be comfortable watching in a TV show under a PG-13 rating. Torture scenes will be very muted compared to Chapter 7 and I'm very sorry for not watching the rating close enough. Be rest assured this story is now rated T.
*Any references or flashbacks of torture will have warnings at the beginning of the chapter and now before the pagebreak of the actual torture scene.
There was also the question of why I listed this story as a tragedy. No, tragedy will play a part in this story, however, I'm an evil author and love to write lots of angst. I do give my word that all will be set to rights and should any character be killed in this fic it will only be my own OC's, secondary characters, or bad guys (like orcs). There is peace coming for Harry, cross my heart.
Does this make sense? I appreciate reviewers that are willing to let me know when things don't make sense. But please, no flames. If you have questions just ask them, but please be nice. I work hard to write these stories and become very attached to them. In my mind, they make sense because I know what's coming up in later chapters, but I know all of you don't have that. If anything still doesn't make since feel free to drop a review or PM me!
Reviews:
Oh, my! There were lots of reviews written! Hannon Le! I'm not great at answering reviews but I try to give as many review shout-outs as I can. I won't be able to reply to all of you (mostly because the majority of the reviews have been answered above), but know I have loved reading each and every review!
ElizaO'Dell: Hehe! Never fear for the next chapter cometh before the great and dreadful fall! (thank you so much for your funny review it made me smile all day!)
hermonine: I'm really sorry to say this but I may have a really, really, awful habit ending nearly every chapter I write with a cliff hanger. *hides behind a bookshelf* I'm sorry? Hehehehehehe!
GaaraSandNiN: Thank you so much! I hope you continue to read this story! There's a lot more coming!
So...
Nienna glared at Mandos convinced this was all his doing. She was the Lady of Mercy and was taking the news of Harry Potter falling into the hands of orcs shortly after arriving in Middle Earth, especially hard. She promised him this life would be better!
"Come now Nienna, I had nothing more to do with this than you did." Mandos said, sitting across from her at the ornate stone table. The Valar of the Dead was as flummoxed as his sister was, though he was good at hiding it.
The Lady of Mercy stared at him harshly, blue eyes glittering. She looked him up and down searching for the lie she couldn't find. Finally her shoulders sagged and she sighed.
"Forgive me brother, I feel as though I've betrayed him. All his life he has only known misery. We made a deal to give him a chance at a real life and now...now he's nothing more than a whipping boy. At this very moment being tortured at the will of those fell beasts." Nienna uncharacteristically spat.
It was Mandos' turn to look disheartened. "I know, sister. Believe me, I know. I think it's safe to say that something more is going on than we know about."
Nienna hummed in agreement.
"Might I suggest, dear sister that we find Manwё?" She opened her mouth to answer only to be interrupted.
"No need dear brother and sister. It's about time I answered your questions..."
Manwё took his time walking around the table to take his seat. They all settled in for a long conversation.
Meanwhile…
The Lord of the Rings stirred. Darkness surrounded him, holding him in a comforting embrace. Every day he grew in power. His subconscious stirred, feeling an aura known only to the eldar. No! It was younger…
If he had a body, a cruel smile would have crept across his face. Good. His subjects had captured an elfling. And a powerful elfling at that. Elfings were rare in this age, he knew that much. The age of the elves were ending, and he was going to do anything and everything in his power to use this elfling to decimate every elf lift on Middle Earth. Yes! It was perfect!
He turned his attention to his loyal servants. Awake and answer your rightful master! Come forth, the nine! he called out to them in the Black Speech.
A screech split the air. The nine had returned to Middle Earth. The Lord of the Rings formulated his plan before sending it outwards.
A feeling of pure malevolence permeates the darkness.
Nine Ringwraiths he'd created.
The elfling would be the perfect addition to his inner circle of servants.
Yes! Just imagine what an elfling wraith could do!
Fifteen years later…
Lord Glorfindel held a long knife in his hand. The caves in the Blue Mountains ran for miles with no set pattern making them treacherous to wander through. All around him he could hear the screams of orcs echoing through the tunnels as elves pursued them. Half a step ahead of him, his long time friend, Lord Elrond of Imlandris walked through the cave, his own weapon drawn and ready.
The tunnel floor sloped down and the two elf lords felt a shiver run down their spines. Elves were creatures of light, so much so that the simple presence of evil was enough to make them squirm. The air felt dark, oppressing and hopeless.
They both shared a look with one another before creeping forward. What they saw was enough to give them nightmares for centuries. A broken rabble of orcs were huddled around a brightly burning fire on the cave floor. Blood, grime and all manner of disgusting substances covered the floor.
But that wasn't the worst of it.
Lying inside the flames was a small figure. The orcs, hearing the elves coming through the tunnels must have panicked, and threw their prisoner into the flames so he or she couldn't be saved. Anger stirred in Glorfindel's heart and he lashed out with all the ferocity of a dragon.
In less than a minute the orcs had been taken care of. Dread builded in his body as he walked over to the blackened figure still in the fire. If only they could have gotten there sooner to save the poor soul from such a gruesome fate.
Softly, Elrond walked closer to his friend, eyes locked on the body being consumed by the flames. His own heart felt sick.
"Poor soul." Elrond said softly. "Find something to douse the flames, we'll give them a proper burial."
The Lord of the Golden Flower nodded and went about searching for a bucket. It took some searching before he found a bucket of gruel against a far wall in a small forgotten corner. Water was preferable, but he had yet to find anything of the sort. The bucket of gruel would have to do.
Holding the bucket aloft in his right hand, he returned to the fire where his friend was waiting. He was just about to let loose the gruel, to douse the flames and the small form, when movement caught his eyes. There! It was small enough that only the eldar could have seen it. The figures' eyes flickered as if they were trying to wake up.
Elrond lurched forward, having seen exactly what Glorfindel had. Deftly, the healer reached into fire, heedless of his own safety, and pulled the small figure out of the flames. Sweeping off his cloak, Elrond went to work pounding out the flames that still clung to the child. Glorfindel wordlessly dumped the bucket of gruel on the fire and then abandoned the bucket unceremoniously.
On the cave floor, Elrond finished extinguishing the last flames. Finally, they could see the poor soul.
The figure's size told them both it was a child they were saving. At closer inspection, they could clearly see the male child was very young. Torn, once white clothes were black and grimy. They had more holes in it than they could count.
Elrond felt more than heard Glorfindel kneel down beside him. The Balrog Slayer studied the pitiful figure, clearly wanting to offer the child comfort, but didn't know how. Burns and scars covered the child's skin making it hard to know where they could touch him without causing him pain.
"What can I do?" Glorfindel asked.
"I need you to get my healing bag, it's on my horse." Elrond instructed pressing his fingers against the child's forehead so he could monitor his pulse. His wrists and neck were so covered in burns, the elf lord didn't want to touch them for fear of pressing more dirt and grime in the burns.
The blonde-haired elf stood stalking to the exit. Elrond called after him. "Hurry. We don't have much time."
In his head, Elrond estimated the time it would take for Glorfindel to return. The sooner he was able to treat his patient the faster the child could start to heal. Meanwhile, his skilled fingers felt the flitting pulse from the child. Pale blue-green eyes studied the form he kneeled over.
Suddenly, pain filled eyes opened, staring up at him. The Elf Lord's usually impassive eyes saddened as they connected with the gaze of the child he was trying to save. Deep clouded and blank eyes looked up at him. They were filled with pain and suffering.
"Peace, little one. You are safe now. No one will hurt you, I promise." The child didn't respond, only looking up at him intently as if he was drawing strength off the very sight of the elf. Elrond's fingers gently combed back the long, matted hair, trying to offer as much comfort as he could.
His slender fingers stopped when they felt a small pointed ear. Pulling the hair back, he revealed a familiar looking ear. The child wasn't a human boy, he was an elfling! Tears pricked the age-old elf's eyes. Elflings were so rare. The elves of Middle Earth had lost all hope of another being born on Arda as it had been over two centuries since the last elfling was born.
Yet here he was watching over an elfling who had been tortured by orcs without anyone knowing anything about it. It made him feel guilty thinking such a pure and innocent child could endure such a harsh and undeserving fate without anyone knowing.
"Ai Valar, how could this be?" Hate grew in his heart for the evil creatures that would do such a thing. After Celebrian sailed because she'd been heartlessly tortured by orcs for nearly a year, he'd hated the dark creatures. He hated them with every fiber of his being. But, no matter how much hate he'd felt he pushed it back, because he was a healer and a leader. The safety of Rivendell was his duty, but now a deeper anger was stirring in his heart.
It burned so hot, all he wanted to do was draw his sword and decimate every orc and goblin who dared show their ungrateful face.
His eyes returned to the pain filled face of the figure he knelt over. The elfling's chest rose and fell with silent gasps of pain. The healer could hear the tell-tale wheeze in the child's throat suggesting his patient's throat was swelling. Elrond looked up at the entrance. He needed Glorfindel to return with his bag more than ever. It was only a matter of time before the smoke caused the little one's throat to swell completely shut.
"Shh. Rest penneth, try to relax. I'm right here." His soothing words betrayed the turmoil within. "I'll do everything in my power to heal you."
A soft sound made Elrond's gaze shoot up. Someone or something was coming. Then, he felt the pure white glow of his best friend. He relaxed. Glorfindel had arrived at last.
The Balrog Slayer skidded around the corner with the grace only known to the eldar and quickly offered the bag to Elrond. The master healer wasted no time digging into the bag and pulled out herbs, poulices, and bandages.
The Elf Lord's mind spun in dizzying circles coming up with best ways to treat the elfling. He needed to grind herbs together to bring down the swelling and counter the smoke inhalation. Next, he needed to clean and bind the burns that covered the penneth's back, arms and legs.
The flames most likely burned the elflings ragged clothing into his flesh. That will need to be removed before he could treat the burns itself. Then, there were dozens of slashes and cuts adorning his small body. The orcs medical treatment would have been abysmal at best. No doubt, infection was running rampant through the young elf's body and had done so for quite some time.
Elrond only hoped that wasn't the case. The burns would be hard enough to heal from without having to worry about infection.
Glorfindel gasped. The Balrog Slayer caught sight of the pointed ear through the matted hair. The warrior was pale, no doubt pondering the same questions Elrond had a few seconds ago.
"Can you save him?"
Elrond looked up at the question. The elfling was fighting hard to live. However, the simple fact was the young elf had been tortured for who knew how long wasn't good. Many elves lost the will to live and fade not long after being rescued.
The Light always paid a steep price for existing alone in darkness.
Legolas Greenleaf gritted his teeth in pain. It'd been nearly fifteen years since he'd been gravely injured by an orc arrow. The palace healers had told him the wound would never truly heal unless he traveled to Imladris seeking healing from Lord Elrond.
He never went and didn't plan to anytime soon.
Greenwood needed him here, his troops needed him. Everyday the shadow grew stronger as their forces were slowly whittled down bit by bit. The Silvan elves were exceptional fighters, no matter what the stuffy Noldors thought, they had to be. While all the other realms sat in their plentiful forests and valleys they called his home, Mirkwood.
Ai, how long had the shadows and sorcery grown under the trees of Greenwood. Every blade and bow was needed to stop the shadow from taking over. He couldn't go to Imladris.
It wasn't an option.
Unbidden, the memories of his injury surged to his mind.
Flashback
Legolas flashed his left scimitar forward slicing at a spider creeping up on him. All around him the other elves were busy fighting the spiders trying to ambush them. Swinging his right scimitar backwards he stabbed a spider about to drop down on Tauriel.
The branch he was standing on quivered when the felled spider crashed into his tree. Even with his elven balance he could feel himself starting to tip off. Swiftly, he jumped off the branch, before twisting his right hand backwards in a complicated move, safely storing his scimitar. Using his now free hand, he grasped the branch directly below the one he was just under.
Legolas stored his left knife and reached for his bow. Soon enough all the spiders were dead and the patrol breathed a sigh of relief.
The Prince of Mirkwood landed nimbly on the ground before addressing Tauriel.
"Report."
"Minor injuries, My Lord, no casualties. We were lucky." Tauriel's red hair flashed. Her hair bright enough it seemed to take on the very shadows surrounding her.
"Any spider bites?" Even as he asked the question, his ice blue eyes were taking in the health of his soldiers. About three elves were bleeding, but not badly. They were healthy enough to continue with their patrol.
"No, caun-nin. Orders?" [my prince] Tauriel asked.
"We travel north. We cannot risk the spiders spreading their filth towards the Queen's Fountain."
The Queen's Fountain was an old waterfall. Long ago, Oropher had long ago commissioned elves to deepen the waterfall before the Battle of the Last Alliance as a gift for the Queen of Greenwood. The Queen's Fountain was one of the most precious artifacts left in Greenwood.
The Darkness had long ago encroached upon the trees surrounding the clearing. For unknown reasons, the meadow and pool itself remained untouched. It gave the Silvan people hope that the orcs and spiders could one day be driven out of the forest, never to return.
It didn't take long for the patrol to reach the Queen's Fountain. Gentle clear blue water spilled over the porcelain rocks. Legolas felt his heart lift seeing the beautiful sight. The shadows had stolen much of the beauty of the forest. Where the trees once held thousands of vibrant green leaves they were bare now. Any leaves that did come one were dark brown or red, as if the darkness was sucking the life out of the gentle giants.
"Caun-nin! There is a small child near the water!" [my prince] Tauriel called out.
Legolas strode forward, pulled out of his daze. His sharp eyes caught the sight of a small figure dressed in white peering into the water intently. The child's skin glowed with an inner light.
"It's an elfling!" Tauriel gasped in shock. All the other elves echoed shock and curiosity at the small figure.
Elflings were rare since the shadow darkened the Greenwood. Ada had said the elves of Imladris and Lothlorien had experienced the same dilemma. The last elfling to be born was Arwen Undomiel, Lord Elrond's daughter, and that was nearly two centuries ago! The birth of another elfling would have been hard to keep secret among the Elven kingdoms. How could it be that an elfling was all alone in the middle of Greenwood?
A protective instinct swelled in the elves chest. The darkness had already taken so much from them already. They weren't going to let any harm come to one so young.
Silently, Legolas pushed back the dense brush coming to clear view of the small elfling. The elfling turned around, hearing him approach. Legolas, and the elves behind him wavered slightly at the look of fear that crossed the child's face.
"Mae Govannen, Penneth."
End Flashback
The memory faded away leaving Legolas with a cold tingling concentrated in his chest. The last thing he remembered was convincing the elfling to come out of the water before a blinding pain overcame him.
Tauriel pulled him out of the water, unconscious and brought him back to the stronghold.
When he woke up he'd demanded to know what happened to the elfling. Tauriel fought back tears as she told him how the orcs surrounded the elfling and fled. More than half of the six elves on that patrol were injured, counting him, and two elves had been killed trying to reach the child.
Thranduil sent out a double patrol to hunt down the orcs and rescue the elfling, but they came back empty handed. The foul creatures ran too quickly towards Dol Guldur for the elves to stop them. Whatever went into Dol Guldur never came out alive.
The fate of the elfling festered deep in Legolas' fea. If only he'd been quicker, more prepared. He never should have been so engrossed in convincing the elfling to trust him! His own insolence cost an innocent child his life.
"Legolas?" His Adar's voice startled Legolas out of his musings.
"Adar," The Prince of Mirkwood pulled himself off the bed he was sitting on. "Is the council over already?"
The Elvenking swept into his son's room. Elaborate robes trailed behind him, brushing the floor. His Adar's normally impassive face showed concern for his only son and child.
"Ion-nin, it is nearly past midday. The council has gone later today than it has done in some time." Legolas took a deep breath, cursing his bad luck. He must have been more out of focus than he originally thought.
His Adar stepped closer, vibrant blue eyes normally as cold as ice now looked at him with concern. The King of Mirkwood trailed over to his son and knelt before him.
"Adar-?" Legolas asked in confusion.
"Shh…" His father shushed him. Gently, the King rested a hand on his chest. Pure white light flowed around the older elf.
Legolas felt the power of his father swirl in his chest strengthening him from the inside out. He sighed as the pain he'd been bearing for fifteen years eased. At last his father stopped, silver eyes rising to meet sea blue. Despite himself, all the prince could do was dip his head and stare at the floor.
Now his father knew just how bad he'd been injured fifteen years ago, and remained still.
"Pack up your belongings for a week's trip. I'll gather a guard to accompany you." The King said simply. In one swift movement his father was on his feet and halfway to the door.
"Adar?" Legolas questioned nervously. Just where was his father sending him? Was he unhappy with him and this was his notice of banishment.
Sadness filled the bond between father and son. Was he loved no longer? The King had asked him if he was fully healed some time ago before he was allowed to go on another patrol after his injury. The King now knew those words were all lies. He could have gotten someone seriously injured-or killed-by lying to his father all these years.
It wasn't unheard of his father to punish soldiers who pushed to return to active duty when they weren't ready.
"Your visit to Rivendell is fifteen years overdue. Your sule is injured."
"Ada! I am needed here, I can't leave! Mirkwood needs me!" Legolas pleaded.
Thranduil turned around to face him. An eyebrow rose above an ice blue eye. "You are correct, ion-nin, Mirkwood does need her prince. Most importantly, she needs a living one. Pack your belongings, you leave on the marrow."
Legolas watched with an open mouth as the Elvenking swept out of the door, leaving nothing behind except the soft rustling of his robes.
Adar = Father
Hannon Le = Thank you
Namarie = Goodbye
Caun-nin = My Prince
sule = soul
Ion-nin = my son
Mae Govannen = Well met (proper elvish greeting)
Penneth = little one
Well that settles chapter 7. There was a lot more I wanted to put in this chapter, but it just wouldn't fit. Anyway, it'll be coming out in the next chapter.
If you still have more questions let me know. And don't worry, more information will be coming soon about Sauron's evil plans concerning Harry.
Namarie! [Goodbye]