A.N.: impossible as it might sound, I AM following the book and trying to make this one believable. =P

'when you find italics between apostrophes, it's  a thought .'

**'when the phrase is between apostrophes and preceded by two asterisks, it's a telepathic conversation '  But if you find only apostrophes, that was probably FF.net that did not show the italics. Happens sometimes. Drives me crazy.

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Chapter Four: Fire and shadow


'Gandalf the Grey set out with the Company, but he did not pass the borders of this land. But I cannot see him from afar, unless he comes within the fences of Lothlórien, a grey mist is about him, and the ways of his feet and his mind are hidden from me.' Galadriel, The Fellowship of The Ring, The Mirror of Galadriel.


@ Eastern Gate of Moria, January 23rd of 3019.

"Holy shit!" Arien cursed for the umpteenth time. The renegades had followed the tracks from Rivendell to Caradhras, then back to the road and finally to the gates of Moria.

The trail hadn't been anything light. The Mountain wasn't particularly friendly with them, but they had had time to see that the tracks had turned back and gone to the road of the dwarfish realm.

And the footsteps. Ah, the footsteps. They found the trail of a pony, a dwarf, what they used to call 'their hobbits' and three men -big, heavy feet. ((A.N.: they weren't able to see the footsteps of Legolas, because they are extremely light and the trail was old.)) So, more and more of the people of Middle-earth were getting interested in the fate of Mr. Underhill, or Baggins, and his three companions. At some point they met carcasses of hyper-grown wolves and some goblins.

Not very encouraging.

"This was made with magic." Arien had said when she examined the wolves. "An incendiary charm - this is quite old. I've only seen this in congresses and rituals. There are loads of other charms for the same end, all much more effective."

"What does it mean, mistress?" Damon had asked -after all, no matter how old she was, she was still the magic expert. Even when he was one hell of a wizard himself.

"That means my theories might be true. And that also means they have a wizard with them."

"Impossible! We are the first to go outside of Antar after the rangers. And they all went back home."

"Nevertheless the evidence is here, before us: this was a charm. He might have been an Istar, there are stories about them."

"They're wizards like us?"

"Not exactly like us, but from what I see, not very different either. Be on your guard, if we happen to meet him."

"Oh joy."

~*~

Now they were in front of what once had been a gate, but now was no more than a pile of stones. Someone, or rather something, had imploded the entrance. Tentacles cut off lying near the entrance didn't exactly help on improving their moods either.

They sat on a nearby stone and rested a little, holding their wands in hand, and considering what their next step might be. "What do we do now?" asked Arien. Damon concentrated on scanning the immediate area searching for forms of life -or more specifically, evil forms of life. He didn't take five minutes doing so, and his fair face was pale when he finished the scanning.

"We call the Auror squad. We cannot go in there alone. Actually, I would take any other route, if there was one." He said, in a tone that admitted no questioning. It wasn't exactly frequent for him to be so imposing, and as they were in tune, she felt he had seen something extremely disgusting.

"I guess I shouldn't be offended about this." She said, putting her wand to action. "Incendium!" and a merry fire burst to life, becoming green after Arien threw some Floo Powder on it.

"Elorie." The witch commanded to the flames, and the fire of the deputy headmistress connected with their campfire. Elorie's face appeared in the green flames.

"Anything amiss, my friend?" questioned the gryffindor.

"Orcs. Trolls. And a demon. I need my Auror squad." The Slytherin explained, but a giant, something with loads of tentacles and a very toothy mouth, advancing towards them, interrupted his words. Arien and Damon both reacted the same way: pulling their wands out and casting one single curse.

"Avada Kedavra!"

The monster froze, lifeless, on the sand. When they returned their gazes to the green flames, Elorie had eyes the size of saucers.

"That was amazing."

"Wasn't it?" Arien grinned. "But only the two of us against the amount of orcs in there is suicide. We need reinforcements."

"How many?" asked Elorie, recovering from her shock.

"About one hundred, one hundred and fifty . Can you manage it?"

The gryffindor thought about it for a while. "I guess that one hundred is possible, but not much more than that. Most of our Aurors are guarding our borders."

"But I said to keep them alert!" cried Arien.

"Then send them here immediately." Said Damon, at the same time.

Half an hour later, they had one hundred and twelve Aurors to back them up.

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@ Moria, January 25th of 3019.

The trip couldn't have been more exhaustive if they tried. Some of the wizards had transfigured the stones at the entrance into dust. They moved silently through the halls, but got lost more often than not - try to find your way inside a city of dwarves without having neither a tour guide nor a map, and then you can tell what they went through.


Damon stood by Arien's side all times, to control her panic attacks - the girl was claustrophobic. And even those who were not complained about the overwhelming stone walls.

Within the first five hours they decided on giving her massive doses of soothing serum. She was numb, but at least she wasn't fainting and crying all the time.

A shock troop of Aurors flew ahead, checking for groups of orcs and other foul things. Every now and then they would cast 'Lumos soleil' or 'Incendium' to toast the goblins. They were truly useful charms. The only time they had to retort to more drastic measures was when a pair of cave trolls appeared along with the goblins, but the Killing curse took care of them.

Moria was a nightmare.

The evidence of magic being used in those halls was drawing them, however. Deep inside the halls. And it was not a renegade. There was powerful magic, ancient magic, being cast in the depths. There was but a little problem .

The source of the magic was somewhere one hundred miles below them.

"We must go down." Said Arien, but her voice held not much strength. The soothing serum had made her sleepy and slow, and by all means, no Auror there would let their mistress face anything remotely dangerous, no matter what she might have to say about it.

"Milady, it's too dangerous." Said the captain of the Auror squad, Deriel.

"He's a wizard. And he traveled with the hobbit. He must hold the answers we seek."

With no other words, the half of the group of Aurors jumped inside the abysm in their flying brooms -it was something like the feign of Wrosnki, but that wasn't a game.

"I'm so sorry, Damie." She whispered to her traveling companion and former pupil. The slytherin held her tighter against himself- he was taking her, as Arien herself was in no condition of riding her own broom.

"Shh. It's alright. They'll be back in no time."

"I've failed you." She said even more quietly.

"No you haven't. Now shut up and get some rest."

And true to Damon's word, the group came back within one hour -carrying a very badly bruised old man with them. Damon started interrogating the man -or trying to-, but Arien saw none of it.

A disturbing feeling invaded her with the strength of a bludgers' blow. The room got cold, so very cold - 'I shouldn't be cold.'


.::(*)::. (The Renegades :The Awakening , chapter 19: Amin Eldar)

She didn't want to go to the hospital - the mortals would see it. They would see she wasn't human and they would lock her in a magical lab where she couldn't run from, they'd put needles in her and do tests with her as they did with those animals in the jails . and she wouldn't be able to leave. To live. Forever trapped in magical walls .

She tried to tell Sirius to leave her be, that Poppy was way better, and please, please, please, PLEASE don't take me to St. Mungo's. But her voice wouldn't obey her mental commands. All she could hear - and it suddenly hurt so much to hear anything, even Sirius' erratic heartbeats matching her own for a while, before hers got wild -was her muffled pained cries, the echo of a wounded wolf she had freed with her brother Andrea from a steel trap. So long ago.

She couldn't speak, she was trapped inside her mind. But it hurt so badly - the light, the noise, and the needles on her arms, potions forced down her throat. It hurt, and she felt cold - like death was already claiming her with its icy grip. The voices of people around her were no longer heard. Blissful, blissful unconsciousness and quiet.

Quiet and dark.

'Just leave me alone and let me die in peace .' .::(*)::.


It was more than she could handle. She was so very sleepy .


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@ Fangorn Forest, February 2nd of 3019.

When she opened her eyes, they were alone again. Damon had made their tent, and also a fire - magical fire, not fueled by branches. And they were surrounded by pairs of eyes, something that was familiar, and something she had seen before.

"Fangorn!" she cried, startling Damon. The slytherin moved towards her bringing with him a plate of meat, wild fruits and macaroni. Macaroni was a blessing for camping – you can take anywhere, it doesn't rot for a long, long time, and it's ready in less than half an hour.

The old ent laughed softly when she cried. "Hello, my child. Long time no see, even for us ents."

Arien tried to stand up, but her legs wouldn't obey her. Her whole body felt as if she had been spanked thoroughly.

"Damon, when I said I liked bad boys, it was implicit I enjoyed to participate in the gaiety. Drugging me was low even for you."

The slytherin laughed real hard. "If she's throwing nice comments like that, she's alright. No harm done."

"What happened?"

"Panic attacks, massive soothing serum, overuse of your Comyn gifts, all put together. In other words, you worn yourself out, and got sick."

"Oh my!"

Fangorn was standing proud and tall before them - they were camping before his home! - and looking every bit as he had when they last met -for him, it was almost three thousand years before, and to her, it had been two hundred and sixty. Plenty of time for them both.

"I know we have met before, but I cannot remember you. You must have been very little when we met."

"We met in the beginning of the Third age, three thousand years ago." She replied, nonchalantly. Damon stared at her, hard - he knew she had left Middle-earth long ago, but that long was really impressive.

"Wow." He whispered.

"Oh, I remember. A little redheaded renegade, in a wagon. long time no see, indeed." Fangorn smiled, speaking every word slowly. "How did you travel, my dear? I see you have found your kindred."

"Oh, yes, Fangorn, and that was an adventure, let me tell you. But that reminds me. What happened to the wizard?"

At that moment Damon looked extremely chastised, even uncomfortable. "We couldn't get much out of him."

Fangorn eyed them suspiciously, but said nothing. Damon quietly whispered to her what happened after she feel unconscious, but what his lips said and what his mind told her were two entirely different things.

After all, secrets are secrets and no renegade would ever betray the trust of another.

Never.

The forest was cool and soothing around them, filled with an eerie calmness and peace that was a better balsam to their wounded hearts than any serum. But even in that shelter there was the echo of a great sadness, loss, and anger. Those feelings ran deep, and muffled, but their strength was there nonetheless - and they would surface, destroying all in their way.

And in that fragile peace, Damon's mind told her a story Fangorn could never hear -not from them. The identity and the extension of the powers of those wizards had to be kept from anyone else.

**''When Deriel and his squad got down there, they found a wizard fighting the fire demon. He was exhausted, and wouldn't have held much longer. they joined him on the fight, but the guy was so beat up he thought we were minions of evil, so he started fighting them as well. Deriel stupefied the Istar  and the squad forced the demon to back down, and they went on and on until they found a dead end in that cave.

The Aurors built a wall and sealed it. After the creature was done with, they brought the old man up in Kenneth's broom, and when he arrived on the platform we were standing, things went wild. I tried to interrogate him, but he panicked. It must be very shocking for him to find himself surrounded by fully-fledged wizards -'


**'Did you ask him where he learned his magic? Where did the Istar come from? What about --'

**'I hadn't time for it. By the time I had disarmed him, he got so utterly frightened and mad every Comyn in the room went sick -and that's the part you that fainted, I guess. Your barriers were very low then. Callista threw up in the rocks, I got so dizzy I nearly fell in the abysm and Jeanne bled from her nose. Deriel got him from that on, but his mind was so wounded he couldn't take anything out of him. So they healed him and a small group is still making camp at the top of the mountains - we must have killed two thirds of the population of that blasted place. As soon as the man is able to speak coherently, we'll try to interrogate him. The other Comyn were sent home to recover, and I brought you here so we can rest a little. Daryl said he would contact us when he has something to report.'

They talked about platitudes and ate, asking Fangorn how things had gone in his wood those last millennia. It was indeed much time to cover, and they talked and talked until sleep claimed them again.

After all, they were still sore from the Istar panic attack.


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@ Caras Galadhon, the city of the galadhrin, Lothlórien, February 14th of 3019.

**

When all the guests were seated before his chair the Lord looked at them again. "Here are eight," he said. 'Nine were to set out, so said the messengers. But maybe there was some change of counsel that we have not heard. Elrond is far away, and darkness gathers between us, and all this year the shadows have grown longer.'

'Nay, there was no change of counsel,' said the Lady Galadriel, speaking for the first time. Her voice was musical, but deeper than a woman's wont. 'Gandalf the Grey set out with the Company, but he did not pass the borders of this land. But I cannot see him from afar, unless he comes within the fences of Lothlórien, a grey mist is about him, and the ways of his feet and his mind are hidden from me.'

'Alas!' said Aragorn. 'Gandalf the Grey fell into shadow. He remained in Moria and did not escape.' At these words all the elves in the hall cried aloud in grief and amazement. 'These are evil tidings,' said Celeborn, 'The most evil that we have been spoken of in long years of grievous deeds.' He turned to Haldir. 'Why has nothing of this been told to me before?' he asked in the elven-tongue.

'We have not spoken to Haldir of our deeds or our purposes,' said Legolas. 'At first we were weary and danger was too close behind and afterwards we almost forgot our grief for a time, as we walked in gladness on the fair paths of Lórien.'

(.)

'With water from the stream Galadriel filled the basin to the brim, and breathed on it, and when the water was still again she spoke. 'Here is the Mirror of Galadriel,' she said. '"I have brought you here so that you may look in it, if you will.

(.)

'What shall we look for, and what shall we see?' asked Frodo, filled with awe.

'Many things I command the mirror to reveal, ' she answered, 'And to some I can show what they desire to see. But the mirror will also show things unbidden, and those are often stronger and more profitable than things we wish to behold. What will you see, if you leave the Mirror free to work, I cannot tell. For it shows things that were, things that are, things that yet may be. But which is it that he sees, even the wisest cannot always tell. Do you wish to look?'

** (.)

The hobbits had retreated to the elven city. Galadriel stood by the basin, thinking. She had passed her test.

Galadriel had been offered the most powerful of things on Middle-earth, and refused. Certainly she had won back her right of returning to the Blessed lands. So very different of when they had come to Middle-earth, over six thousand years ago. They had defied the Valar, and left. Pride led them to slay. Pride had prevented her to go back to Valinor, even after the Valar had said they absolved her at the end of the First Age. But Galadriel didn't want to go back like that. She wanted to raise her head up high.

They had been so naïve, in those days. All her family: all gone now. All in the halls of Mandos. Except the one she lost last.

Aredhel. The other White Lady of Noldor, which she would never see again. Aredhel had renounced her immortality for the love of a mortal, and Galadriel wished her sister had found bliss in those brief final years. She had seen it all, in the solitude of her patio, with her faithful Mirror. Those last years. Her niece and nephew. The end of it.

The girl had survived. A little fiery sprite, with hair like sunset at Elvenhome. But she had obviously not taken her mother's advice to heart. She had gotten too close to Lórien. A scout of guards took her away from Lothlórien. Safe.

And suddenly, she disappeared. The Mirror showed naught of her for nearly three thousand years -the brief glance of a wide wall and the opening of a gate, and that was the last Galadriel saw of her niece. The little flame was gone. No one left now.

And then, suddenly, she was back. Galadriel didn't believe it at first, maybe it was just her wistful mind playing a prank on her senses. But sure as the sun rising every day, the Mirror showed her again, grown up and fiery, a bit beaten by the adversity but standing proud and fierce, a flower in mid-bloom, the promise of a strong character. She was already a strong character, but still. There was something about her. She wasn't as developed as she should be being a three thousand old half-elf. She was so young!

The Lady of the Golden Woods looked at the Mirror once more - and gasped. Not much surprises an elf ten thousand years old, but that was a wonder.

A group of Half-Eleven stood before her niece in a forest Galadriel recognized faintly as the old forest of Fangorn. Those woods had touched three millennia ago. Then the image changed, and that group was standing before the body of Mithrandir, healing him. They talked in a language Galadriel couldn't recognize.


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@ the top of the Misty Mountains, February 15th of 3019.

Most of the Auror squad had already left, back to protecting the borders of the republic, but the captain had remained to help interrogating the stubborn old man. The wizard before them was clearly upset. He kept talking angrily in a foreign language, refusing to speak with them – in spite of the obvious fact that they had saved him, he still believed they were foes.

But they knew what Gandalf was talking about. They were Comyn.

"My head hurts." Arien complained. She hasn't recovered from Moria completely yet, and the effort of making sense of the Istar words was quickly draining her.

"Shh. Just a little more now." Damon soothed her.

"Enough!" cried Deriel, trying to shut the angry wizard before them. "We are not your enemies, we came here to help!"

That was said in Gandalf's tongue. The Istar froze on his spot, and stared at them with less fear, and much more wonder and doubt. That's when Damon – the official slytherin plotter in service – had a brilliant idea.

"We were sent to help you, friend. We got news that the situation had gone out of control, and came here to help."

Something in the eyes of  the wizard sparkled for a second. But then he saw the pointed ears of his 'friends'.

'No elves in the Order. That was decided when we settled in Valinor, right when we knew of Sauron's betrayal. We should have killed him then. So none of this would have happened. So Frodo wouldn't have…'

"You are not From the order! You are minions of Sauron!"

"The guy lost his mind." Arien said.

"I'm not  sure he had one once." Damon spat, venomously. Even a nine-thousand year old half-elf loses his patience once every century, and that Gandalf guy was surely driving them nuts.

"What do we do now?" asked Deriel, still keeping watch over the istar. The old bruises and wounds had healed well, under their patient care, but the man was still confused.

"Time to retort to an old trick, I guess." Arien said, looking for something inside her backpack. "Ah, here it is."

She forced the liquid down the throat of the elderly one, and the other renegades understood her intentions when his gaze turned empty and glassy. With a switch of her wand the Dict-O-Quill started working on the notebooks, as they carefully interrogated the Istar.

And under Veritaserum, Gandalf said everything.

"I was born in the Blessed Lands, five thousand years before…"

'Holy fucking shit! They found a way to produce the philosopher's stone!' Arien thought, quickly shutting her mental barriers against her partners. If the information went out, it would be havoc. Damon gave her a 'what-the-hell-was-that' look, and she replied with a 'you-don't-wanna-know' one.

"We heard that the wizard known as Sauron was following the path of Morgoth… it wouldn't be good for the Order… it would break the equilibrium of the balance of power."

"Not to mention he could go after you and kick your arses…" Arien added.

"Yes, that too…" the drugged Gandalf admitted. "So the wizarding community decided to send some of us to fight him… but shouldn't call too much attention …"

At that point they nodded in acquiescence, forgetting the Istar was not aware of their behavior, nor minded it.

"There were five of us… me… Orodrin perished in Moria… Ahkmed went to east … but never returned… Radagast no loner wishes to interfere with the matters of this land… "

An evil grin of understanding appeared on Deriel's face.

No one goes east and returns to tell the tale.

"Radagast wanders north and south… but he doesn't really work too hard…" ah, nothing like Veritaserum to loosen one's tongue…

"And Saruman betrayed us!" there was visible hatred in his voice, as well as hurt and disappointment.

"Now Gandalf… tell us about these hobbits every people in Middle-Earth is trying to protect… and why did the Wraiths leave Dol Guldur…"

And Gandalf told them.

~*~

"Deriel, you go back to Antar and, for pity sake, keep the goddamned army alert!" Arien all but cried the last sentence. Elorie was so deep in shit when they met again, if only the gryffindor knew… "And no offence baby, but I'll have to obliviate you. If one Comyn saw these things by accident, can you imagine the size of the trouble?"

The captain looked at her with doubt, but the image she had built thorough the years at Antar was strong enough. Everybody knew she wouldn't harm anyone if she could help it. And that she honored her words. And she had taught him.

She was the Headmistress. You can always trust the headmistress became another unwritten rule of Antar.

"Okay."

"Obliviate." She said, and right after it. "Go back to Antar, keep the army ready and alert. We may need it for an open attack to Mordor sometime soon."

Deriel blinked hard, once, twice, three times. His mind was still foggy, it was so weird… Had he been….??

"Obliviated? Yes. Now go. Don't worry, sweetheart, everything will end up just fine." The headmistress said, with that same warm smile she had when the teachers brought him to her office because he had fought with a gryffindor.

"Yes, milady." And Deriel apparated home. His officials wanted to know what happened, but all he could say was that it was confidential information.

"Your charm never ceases to amaze me." Damon whispered.

"What is it with me and slytherins?" she laughed. "Okay, now let's deal with that guy over there."

Gandalf was still staring to the empty space.

"What will we do?"

"We will be his new best friends!" Arien said, grinning. "Remember what I told you? Ensnare the senses and bewitch the mind?"

"And someone wonders why I bet you were a Slytherin?"

"Don't be pathetic. Not all Slytherins are this cunning. And not all the cunning folks are Slytherin. Now help me here."

And together, the antarian wizards began their work.

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A.N.: sorry about the delay – I had gone to a point where the future events were threatened by the present…

And I have some things on store… (evil laugh)