A/N: Hope you like this. I'm going to try and add some more Legolas/Hermione moments into this fic from now on. However I am planning a rather nice moment later on. Guess you'll just have to wait and see…

"Why Remus, what a nice surprise,"

To say that Headmaster Dumbledore was shocked at seeing Remus Lupin and a rather large black dog barge into his office would be straying completely from the truth. In fact, the rather mild-mannered professor was quite furious at this. His explicit instructions, delivered by the deputy headmistress, had been completely ignored and now he was left to explain what he chose to divulge to the two heavily breathing occupants of his office this early morn.

"Apologies, Albus, but Sirius insisted that we come here," Remus panted, taking gasps of air as he did so, "'couldn't stop him,"

"That is quite all right Remus. We both known that Sirius' emotions do tend to run away with him," Albus scowled, leaving the dog to put his tail between his legs in a rather dejected manner.

"Sirius, if you may, there are no Azkaban guards or Ministry officials here,"

The dog promptly shook out its coat and then began to shift from one form to the next: that of a rather tall, dark haired man. Sirius Black stretched his limbs and shook his head, sending his rather long hair flying. Once comfortable, he marched forward and stared at the pajama-clad headmaster full on. Dumbledore, un-phased by this move, stared back with equal intensity.

"Dumbledore, please, explain this letter," Sirius breathed out through gritted teeth. "We have been apparating all over the place and running through God knows what for two days. We want to know what the hell this is all about,"

"Please, Sirius, Remus, sit," they did as instructed.

"Now, let me be frank, but you were instructed to stay out on your mission and return for the meeting. Having disregarded this, while quite touching to say the least at your care towards Miss Granger, has put me in quite a foul mood. Never, never put aside a mission for something that you have been told was taken care of. Never disobey your orders ever again," said Dumbledore, quite livid by the end.

"We apologize Albus, but the letter was quite odd and we had to see for ourselves what was going on," said Remus.

"Understandable," Dumbledore closed his eyes, breathing deeply to calm his nerves, opening them to gaze upon the ragged and weary faces of his comrades. "Now, seeing as you have come a long way to know exactly what is happening at this school, I will tell you,"

Thus began the telling of Hermione's story to yet another audience. Dumbledore was beginning to feel quite tired of telling this story, as he felt that in the near future he would once again have to recall the tale of how the elf-witch came to him in his office those six years ago. The girl, beautiful beyond measure, was accompanied by her mother, father, grandfather and a man whose appearance was similar to his own. Dumbledore had been astonished to find that this child and her rather remarkable family were from another world entirely. Of course, their dress said as much; the girl and her mother having been clad in similar dresses of lavender and the men in robes and long cloaks. Hers being a special case, all possible measures had been taken to insure her safety, and although after her first year said measures proved fruitless, the headmaster was happy to have such a brilliant student resident in Hogwarts.

As the tale pulled to a close, the expressions on the two men had changed. From weary and distraught they were now shocked, awed and saddened. The girl that they held so dear, as the daughter they never had, was a different person entirely. Well, not entirely, as her demeanor was still the same, but her appearance, the way she was raised, her family, her entire world was a drastic change from what they had previously assumed. As he considered it, Remus recalled moments from previous years that he deemed odd. Being a werewolf, his senses were heightened than that of a normal human, and as such, so was the sense of smell. He had rarely had a chance to be alone with her, and now that he thought about it, it seemed she had made sure of it. When he had first met her, it had been in a crowded classroom, others it was always with Harry and Ron. Later on she was always with either boy, Ginny or other members of the Order. Her scent, which he assumed would have been far different than that of a human from this world, or a human in general, was always clouded with the scents of others. She had made sure that he never sensed a difference between her and the other children. After all, a glamour only covers the appearance.

"I can see the wheels turning in your head Remus. Yes, per my instructions, she was to be most careful around you. She rarely stayed on her own, especially in your presence, and she made sure to act like any other student. That included what she had done for the past two years: walking in the paths of others when the snow fell, writing in English and not in elven runes, etc."

"What about-" Remus started, another thought springing to mind.

"Alastor's eye? Yes, even the imposter Alastor who taught here during the Triwizard Tournament saw through her glamour. His eye was designed to. I asked him not to say a word, and he never has." Dumbledore explained.

"The imposter?"

"The Demenotrs Kiss took care of him,"

Remus bowed his head. No one should have to succumb to such a fate as that. "Do Harry and Ron know about this?" asked Sirius.

"Yes,"

"Can we see them?" Sirius asked hopefully.

"You may rest here for the remainder of the day until you are fit to travel to Grimmauld Place where you will stay until the meeting. Is that understood?" Dumbledore instructed.

"Yes, Albus," said Remus.

"I will call Mr Potter and Mr Weasley to my office at mid day so you may speak with them. Now, I suggest we find somewhere for you to sleep as there are still many hours until the rest of the school will wake,"

x

"Seven visitors disturb my rest, two whose names are known to me," said Saruman. "Gandalf, Lord Théoden of the Mark of Rohan, I bid you welcome to my humble home,"

Saruman opened his arms and smiled wickedly. He was openly mocking them, fully knowing that Isengard was no longer under his control. He let out a short cackling laugh and gazed over the other members of the group whose names he had not yet said.

"An odd sort you associate yourself with dear Gandalf. A dwarf, numerous men and two elves, though I knew you were always quite fond of them. One of which is a woman no less! No more than a mere child. You dare to bring children into my presence? I could kill her without a thought," Saurman laughed, his voice akin to venom.

Hermione felt Legolas reach out and grasp her hand in his, pulling her closer to him and giving it a comforting squeeze. She felt the Istari watching them, his cold eyes boring into her flesh. His face remained twisted in that horrid smile as he watched them and she could practically see the hateful words forming in his sick mind.

"What is this? The Mirkwood prince ling has found himself a play thing. How…sweet," Saruman sneered. "Keep her close, Little Greenleaf. Wouldn't want something…horrid to happen to her, would you?"

Glancing at him, Hermione found the prince glaring at the wizard, his teeth clenched and his gaze piercing. Fury burned in his eyes and his grip on her hand tightened. She placed a gentle calming hand on his arm and spared a glance at her father who she could see was quietly seething. Hermione herself felt quite frightened at the Istar's words. She had never met him previously, never spoken with him or even looked upon him, but his insinuations at any harm that my come to her in future chilled her to the bone. The man had vast amounts of power, at least, she assumed he still did, and he could use it any way he saw fit; even harming her.

Saruman then turned his attention to the King of Rohan, berating him and trying to sway him towards the wizard's views. Luckily, through much interjection from Eomer and Gandalf, he did not succeed. Throughout the entirety of the conversation, Hermione's gaze flitted between her father and lover. Legolas was still glaring firmly at the Istar with pure hatred and disgust and she could see he was trying desperately to restrain himself from dismembering the man. Aragorn, she saw, was displaying far more control than that of Legolas, and she knew the reason why. Were her father to give into any such hostile emotion or act towards Saruman at the words he had spoken to her and Legolas, questions would arise from the two Men of the Mark; questions that no one wanted to answer.

Suddenly, from above, there came a great cry and the staff in Saruman's hand snapped. The steel rod, so beautifully crafted, fell to the ground in two pieces. Saruman fell back, powerless and broken, and began to crawl away. Before he could leave their sight, however, Legolas broke from the lose grasp that Hermione had held on him and marched up the stairs towards the Istar. The others called to him, bidding him to retreat, but shrugged off their pleas. Upon reaching Saruman Legolas drew a knife and brought it down to press against the sallow flesh on his throat. The blade did not shake, nor did it draw blood, but that was not what made Saruman's breath catch in his throat. Legolas, throughout his entire movements, remained perfectly calm. He held the wizard tightly by the scruff of his robes and looked upon him with a gaze so piercing, so murderous, so completely controlling, that fear came into the helpless man's eyes.

"If you so much as look at her again, I will not hesitate to kill you. If you so much as think an ill thought towards her or plot to harm her in any way, I will feel no remorse in drawing out your death," Legolas' voice was a harsh whisper, yet for all his anger it did not tremble. "For all of the pain you have brought to Arda you are not fit to live, but enough blood has been spilt on your account that your own would not help to heal the wounds you have created. You are now powerless, and the only title now fitting of your stature is of an Orc."

With that he removed that blade and dropped Saruman unceremoniously on the steps. Soundlessly he walked back to his former post beside Hermione, keeping his eyes away from the whimpering wizard. Looking at him, Hermione could see that his actions did nothing but simply sedate the elf and caused great worry to arise in Hermione's mind.

From whence Saruman had crawled there came a great cry and a rather large object was hurled towards Gandalf, missing him by mere inches. The stair upon which it hit cracked and splintered, but the object remained intact. It rolled down the steps, its dark crystal swirling and glittering, until it was picked up by small Pippin. It was then, with one last glance, the party turned and ventured down the steps once more. As they neared the base of the tower, Hermione once again looked over at Legolas, finding that his eyes were coldly set and a look of murderous rage played upon his fair features.

"Melamin?" Hermione questioned, only to have her small hand taken in his without a word.

When they had reached the bottom of the stair they found their mounts and the party left Isengard to ride back to Edoras. The ride was silent for the most part, neither hobbit nor dwarf choosing to speak. Hermione suspected that Gimli felt slightly frightened of his elven friend. After all, Legolas was usually quite quiet and composed, save when Gimli himself was threatened by Eomer. The elf's outward display of hostility outside of battle had shocked most who had been witness. Long afterwards, Hermione had to admit that she was still quite shaken.

As the sun sank on the horizon and stars began to dot the night sky, the weary party stopped to make camp for the evening. Mounts were fed and watered, numerous fires started, food cooked, watches taken, and by the time the moon was high in the sky most were sleeping soundly. All, that was, save Hermione. Sleep never came to her. Instead she found herself moving silently through the maze of sleeping soldiers, quietly weaving around the dark mounds. Upon reaching the edge of camp, she spied another form staring off into the distance. She knew immediately who it was, the stance and ethereal glow being all too familiar. Hermione came to stand on his left side, trying to form some sort of opening sentence that would not cause an argument. However, she didn't have to.

"I'm sorry,"

Hermione looked at him quizzically.

"Though broken and deserving Saruman should not have received the words I spat upon him. I saw that I frightened you; I frightened everyone, and lost the small amount of trust that was bestowed upon me. I should not have acted so rashly." Legolas said, not meeting her eye.

"You did what you thought was best. You held your tongue for as long as you could and defended us as best you could. Saruman did deserve it," Hermione trailed off, pausing to collect herself. "You have not lost their trust. If only, they have given you more at your willingness to defend your friends. If that does not comfort you, know that you still have my trust."

Legolas looked towards her and smiled. He gently took her hand in his and she gave it a comforting squeeze. After a moment or so, Hermione threw her arms around him and rested her head on his shoulder. His arms snaked around her form and held her close to him. Legolas buried his face in her hair and sighed heavily. It seemed that the war, though far from over, had begun to take its toll upon the people of Middle-Earth. Already the effect had taken place, had tested the strength, both physical and emotional, of two elves. Two of many who had already risked their lives in the fight for the side of the light; of goodness, virtue, and the safety of their world.

"It appears I am not the only one that sleep did not find," said a voice recognized as that of Aragorn. The ranger made his way toward his daughter and friend, stopping when he came to stand on Legolas' right.

"Lle il losto," said Hermione, dropping her arms from around her lover's neck.

"N'uma," was Aragorn's short reply.

It was during this brief conversation between father and daughter that Legolas turned his eyes southward, to where the One Ring undoubtedly laid. What he saw upon adjusting his eyes was a mass of fire and smoke; of light and an ever-watchful gaze. What he saw was the eye.

"The eye," he breathed, his gaze transfixed upon it.

Both Hermione and Aragorn turned their heads towards the south, Hermione swiftly adjusting her own gaze whilst Aragorn struggled to see even a hint of red flame. Once her eyes were settled Hermione came to rest on the aforementioned Eye of Sauron, the ever watchful gaze of the dark lord. It never paused in its vigilant watch of Middle-Earth and saw all the happenings of his foes. Currently, the eye was turning atop its stone pedestal. The red flame licked the sides of the tower and a harsh light, like that of a muggle search-light shone from the swirling pupils.

"The eye moves," Legolas breathed his voice but a whisper. "His gaze moves across the earth."

"He is searching," mumbled Aragorn.

"But for what?" Hermione whispered back.

As they watched, the eye's gaze moved ever closer towards the trio. Its light grew brighter, the flames flared angrily and Hermione felt her blood run cold. She could see the eye as clearly as it could see her, and the very notion that it had been watching her and her companions during the entirety of the journey frightened her. As well as the thought that the eye was looking for its lost ring, its most powerful weapon, among their party of, though gallant, easily swayed men. After what seemed like a millennium, the eye was upon them.

"He is here," said Legolas, not breaking his gaze from the glaring eye.

Hermione's gaze remained transfixed upon the ball of flame, her own eye meeting the monstrous one before her; pupil to pupil. She could feel the light boring into her head, into the very depths of her mind. She could feel his gaze passing through her, towards something greater and far more important than herself. However, for that brief moment, she felt the greatest of evils grip her heart and give it a life-threatening squeeze.

A cry, a ways away from the trio, broke the hold the two elves had on the eye. It was of high pitch, but as it left the lips of its speaker, a great commotion arose. The trio raced through the camp, pushing their way through half-awake men towards the source of the cry. When they had forced their way to it, they found Pippin, lying still on the ground, Gandalf beside him. The wizard was speaking to him harshly, yet softly, and the poor hobbit whimpered in the Istar's arms. Near the pair lied the orb, covered in Gandalf's cloak.

"What is it?" asked the gruff voice of Gimli as he joined the trio, having been abruptly awoken.

"Pippin has looked into the palantiri," said Aragorn, his gaze stern.

"A what?" asked Gimli, confusion etched on his face.

"A palantiri, or Seeing Stone, came from Eldamar, made by the Noldor. Men used them to see and to converse in thought from afar. Most were held in Gondor, but now they are either lost or destroyed. Few are known to still exist." Hermione explained.

Gimli nodded to her, still looking quite confused, whilst both Legolas and Aragorn looked at her in a way similar to that of Harry and Ron when she told them some obscure fact. Of course, having been on the receiving end of such looks for over six years, she didn't even take notice. After a moment, Legolas and Aragorn turned their heads away from the witch and back to the wizard who was listening intently to every word Pippin said.

"Then he gloated over me. I felt I was falling to pieces. No, no! I can't say any more. I don't remember anything else."

Pippin averted his gaze from the wizard, closing his eyes and turning his head, but Gandalf was not yet through with the hobbit. "Look at me!"

Pippin turned his head and eyes back to the Istar and looked him in the eye. Gandalf searched Pippin's eyes, and after a moment, his features softened and a trace of a smile past over his face. Gandalf placed a cool hand on the hobbits head, spoke again to him, and lifted him into his arms. Pushing his way past the crowd, which was now looking at the palantiri with a wary gaze, he placed Pippin on his bed, Merry coming to sit beside him. Gandalf rose and made his way over to Aragorn. Théoden had since heard the disturbance and had come to stand with the small group, as had Eomer.

"Pippin has seen a great many things, terrible in nature they may be, but helpful to us. However, the enemy's gaze now turns to him, and he must be taken from this place, taken to safety," said Gandalf.

"What has he seen?" asked Eomer.

"I cannot tell you, son of Eommund, but you are better off not knowing," Gandalf told him in a slightly apologetic tone. Eomer nodded.

Gandalf, Théoden and Aragorn lapsed into conversation, planning and commenting on their next move. During this, Gandalf put the palantiri in Aragorn's care, and set to take Pippin to Minas Tirith. As they finalized their plans, a great darkness spread over the camp. The moon seemed to have disappeared from above them and many men began to cower. Looking up, Hermione saw it. The giant winged mount of the Nazgûl past overhead. Its great wings blotted out the moon, its form illuminated, until it passed. Once gone the party rose from the crouched positions. Gandalf held his gaze upon the sky, his hands clenched beside him and his eyes wide.

"Nazgûl! The Nazgûl have crossed the river! Ride! Do not wait for dawn! Ride, Ride!" he cried.

Hermione looked at Legolas and he nodded, both of them turning and running towards their mounts. Once found, Hermione untied Anya's reigns and swiftly leaped on her back. She took the reigns in her hands, waited for Legolas to hoist Gimli onto the back of Arod, before the trotted off towards Aragorn. As they did so, they saw Gandalf gallop off atop Shadowfax, Pippin in front of him. When they met up, Aragorn was seated atop Hasufel, Merry in front.

"The king wishes we ride now, to the Hurnburg," said Aragorn, turning his horse with a nod from Hermione and Legolas.

The company rode hard and swift, the scenery passing before them was but a blur and by the end Hermione found her fingers stiff and sore. As they entered the Hornburg many took leave to rest whilst Aragorn left to the high chamber for thought; the palantiri with him. It seemed that Eowyn and the other people of Edoras had left Helms Deep for the city. All that remained were a few guards, Haldir and the remainder of his elvin kin whom had accompanied him to the Hornburg.

"My lady, my lord," replied the elves upon catching site of Legolas and Hermione. Haldir smiled.

"Haldir, have you not returned to the service of her ladyship?" asked Legolas, head cocked to one side.

"Nay, I do not. My mind wonders if other battles call us to lands other than our own," he said, arms crossed.

"Do not your brothers need you? Do you not still dwell in the service of my great-grandparents?" asked Hermione.

"Haldir, do not put yourself in more danger than need be. You must protect the borders of the Golden Wood," said Legolas.

"Ay," Haldir sighed, his gaze resting upon the pair. "You speak truth. We will ride out upon the setting of the sun."

They spoke for a while longer, and when the sun was high in they sky Haldir and the others left to prepare for their departure. As they did this, Hermione, Legolas and Gimli roused Merry and the quartet walked about Helms Deep, regaling Merry with tales of their battle there but a few nights before hand. As the sun hit midday, they left for the dining hall for the meal whereupon Merry did something quite unexpected: he pledged his allegiance to the king.

It was as King Théoden was to set out that Aragorn finally left his chamber, a rather darkened expression on his face. He walked toward Théoden and told him of his plan.

"I take the Paths of the Dead my lord, as do my kinsman," he said, his eyes shadowed and weary.

Hermione suppressed a gasp. She had read about the Paths of the Dead, she knew of their history and their horror. She knew why men feared them so, and her father planned to take them. He planned to take which very well may be his end, and she knew she could not stop him.

She listened with a deaf ear to her father's words, her gaze far off. As Aragorn spoke, he caught his daughter's eye, and when he did, Hermione knew, deep within her heart, that they would be parting. She would have to say goodbye.

A/N: I know, it took me so long, and there was so little to show for it. I'll try and write more next time. In the next chapter there will be a big Legolas/Hermione scene. I'm also sorry if Legolas seems a bit OOC, and if the conversation with Saruman seemed short and odd. He's not just going to ignore Hermione, now is he? Please review!

Lle il losto- You do not sleep

N'uma- No

Thank you's:

OnceUponADecember31- lol! Sorry I didn't update for so long. Thanks for reviewing!

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