Note: All notes, important or otherwise are posted at the top of the prologue. I will add more notes when I feel it is necessary.
A/N: Reviewer going by the name 'George W. Bush', in response to your oh so tasteful, tactful and lets not forget eloquent review, read a very special 'Important Note' on my bio page. All that I want and need to say is printed in BLACK AND WHITE in a certain section there. But in the very probable case that you are too lazy to click my penname at the top of this screen, I'll give you a brief summarised version.
Your review wasn't appreciated, it wasn't clever… it was rude and malicious. It was stereotypically narrow-minded and I'll thank you to refrain from reviewing in such a manner again – or reviewing at all. Nothing from you would be better than the comment I received. Though I've have reviews similar in the past, I can never recall a particular point where I've had a reader curse at me simply because I made two characters homosexual.
I've never been offended by words in reviews but I must say you sent me a first right then. So if it was permitted for me to return the favour whilst being very childish at the same time, I'd say something similar to "Screw you, you intellectually challenged Fuckmook." But it isn't permitted, so I won't return the favour.
Enjoy the chapter.
Disclaimer: I DO NOT, AND WILL NEVER CLAIM OWNERSHIP OVER HARRY POTTER AND ITS CHARACTERS OR LORD OF THE RINGS AND ITS CHARACTERS.
Fourteen: The Desire to Grieve.
Erestor and Glorfindel circled the newest arrival to grace the lands of Middle-Earth;
In his hands Glorfindel held a long warrior's sword, designed to be held with two hands to make for stronger, more precise attacking. He had a pair of fighting knives sheathed to each thigh in the case that he looses his first weapon choice.
Erestor had opted for a pair of knives that Gryffindor had made for him. Not the ones Harry had spoke of, but made by the Hogwarts co-founder still. As his second weapon of choice, he had but his hands. Such were his skills that he was not used to needing a second choice.
The conversation the three were having before weapons were drawn continued from the point of Harry's admittance to putting up a front to avoid questions. Both Imladris Elves wanted to know what they could possibly do to help Harry through his time of grief and pain. They were answered simply with three words, spoken with conviction, determination and held a solemn quality to its tone.
"Tire me out."
Harry had said as if the answer were obvious. He explained that when his energies were drained, when his physical strength was lessened, his emotional walls would begin to cave. Though it would be his internal want and need that would allow the barriers to fall. He explained that, although he would know what was happening, it would not be a conscious decision to allow his pain rise to the surface. He then noted that the process was far too complicated to explain and that if the pair really wanted to know, he'd tell them at a later date.
He felt it would help him. When asked strangely what it would help him with, he answered; "To grieve."
Which is what led them all to their current positions; standing in the centre of one of the Imladris realm's training ranges, weapons of choice out and circling one another.
From across the circle area, Glorfindel met eyes with Erestor and a meaningful look later, the blonde made the first move. He moved with all the silence, grace and ease his race gifted to him as he turned his weapon so the handle, and not the blade bared down on Harry. He aimed to strike at the half-elf's back but as destiny would have it, Harry moved quicker than any elf in Middle-Earth could and easily stepped out of the weapon's range. The opening attack was quickly followed by a series of swift, well practised manoeuvres; each one had Harry moving more and more and by the 9th consecutive attack, he decided to end his evasion.
In a grand total of one point five seconds, Harry had relaxed the fist's his hands were in, willed them to make their way down to his thighs and pick off two of his daggers. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Glorfindel turn his weapon around once again so this time it would be the blade reigning down on him.
The daggers in his hands were held in such a way that he would feel discomfort when blocking the oncoming blow, so he threw them directly upwards crossed his arms over at the elbow; catching them again just in time for the blade of the Glorfindel's weapon to meet the up-turned cross-section of both hilts.
The action caught the other elf by surprise, momentarily rendering him paralyzed as he was awed at the sheer agility Harry had shown. The former Gryffindor knew exactly why the pair, or the three, of them were there in the first place but he couldn't help but grin despite himself.
"I am but half-Elven Glorfindel. Now what does that say for those who are Elven completely?" The green-eyed fighter remarked before pushing the offending blade from the grasp of his own. He then moved into a low, but not too low, stance. His opponent shook himself back to clarity, scowled at the previous comment and the fight continued.
Near ten minutes after the fight had commenced, just as in Lorien, a crowd was slowly forming around the perimeters of the training range and all eyes were locked on as the elegant figures fought. Well, all save for three pairs. The owners of said pairs glanced from the two Elves that were lost in their actions to the dark haired elf that stood a way off to the side, but closer than the crowd.
Legolas turned his attention back to the being that was currently in the process of claiming his heart while his two companions still looked at Erestor. Elladan and his brother made to walk over to their tutor but when the latter raised his hands to halt their approach, they cast the Councillor and confused look. The usually quiet elf simply shook his head, motioning them to stay where they were.
In truth, Erestor knew that had the twins have stepped into the perimeters of the range, they would have been unwittingly and most certainly unwillingly drawn into the clash.
With a concerned air about him, the Prince of Mirkwood watched. He was biting the inside of his mouth, clenching and unclenching his fist's to keep his nervousness at bay. Despite how much Harry had wanted to hide it, the Elven Prince saw through the schooled features, he saw passed the half-elf's façade as if it were glass.
He saw the pain etched in those vibrant green orbs. He saw the hurt, the guilt, the fear and the mildest glimmer of loneliness. He saw all of that and more but chose to let Harry deal with his problems his own way. Should the half-elf decide to confide in Legolas, the royal would not turn him away.
Glorfindel jumped a stride's length to his left to avoid a dagger's tip plunging into his abdomen and countered the attack with a sharp kick to Harry's briefly exposed side. The half-elf stumbled slightly but to his credit, he didn't fall. He eyed his opponent's position and thought it was too close for the moment. He jumped back the same distance Glorfindel had jumped sideward and the pair began to circle each other once again.
"I commend you Harry Potter." The blonde spoke for the first time since the bout started. "Your abilities are much and their quality is better. How fair you this moment?" He asked, never once taking his eyes from the half-elf.
"I fair well." Harry answered. Altering his grasp on the pair of daggers, he released them both. They flew spiralling towards Glorfindel and the latter crouched down, his weapon held out in a horizontal position and his free hand touching the ground lightly. He turned his head and saw the daggers land at the feet of the Prince Legolas. He saw the twins, stood behind the royal, each start reaching down to pick up the items of weaponry but the hands held out by the blonde stopped them.
Harry had to suppress the grin that was trying desperately to fight its way to the surface as he watched Glorfindel crouch down. He knew the daggers would not hit the other elf even if said elf hadn't ducked, but it was amusing to see such a thing none the less. His left hand clasped the scabbard of his sword while his right hand grasped the handle of the sword inside it. He quickly unsheathed the blade and returned to his armed stance.
"How fair you, Glorfindel of Imladris?" His voice sounded smug to the ear, especially an Elven ear and he smiled innocently at the rising elf.
"Challenged." Was all that was said before moving in for the attack.
The pair continued to trade blows with one another for the next ten minutes before Harry saw an opening and kicked the weapon from the blonde elf's hands. The elf stumbled slightly, caught of guard by the sudden movement but he quickly recovered and unsheathed the fighting knives that were strapped to his thighs.
He spotted Harry three meters away waiting to continue. And continue they did.
They flew into another round of the bout. They lunged, blocked, aimed, avoided, attacked… never once losing their footing. That was, however, until one misplaced foot. Almost ten minutes after his weapon change, Glorfindel jumped back to avoid Harry's sword cutting into his stomach. He'd done the manoeuvre countless times in the past and had no reason to think he would not land correctly as he always tended to.
Only he didn't – land correctly, that is. When he landed, he aimed to land on the ball of his right foot with a slight bend in his knee and with his left foot, he aimed to land fully on the heal; bring down the ball after he gained his balance again. He was on target; he merely miscalculated the level of moisture that had settled over the ground the evening previous. So when his right foot touched the ground, he slipped.
To his credit, the blonde elf slipped as gracefully as ever on bended knees and with only one hand touching the ground, knife still clasped.
Taking the opening that seemed to be handed to him on a silver platter, Harry took three paces towards the fallen elf. He stood on the knife that was clenched in Glorfindel's right hand, pinning it to the ground then proceeded to kick the knife from his left hand.
After the elf was disarmed completely, Harry brought his sword to the blonde's chin, signifying victory.
"You are exceptionally skilled." The grounded elf commented and Harry bowed his head.
"I have the feeling only a few have claimed victory over you before." Glorfindel nodded. "You too are an amazing fighter." The green-eyed being grinned ruefully. "I could have used a partner like you when I was training for the war." He pulled his sword away and stepped back. The other slowly rose from his position and re-sheathed the knife in his hand. With a deep, meaningful bow to one another, Glorfindel stepped back, joining the spectators at the perimeter of the range and Harry turned his full attention onto his Godfather's Ancestor.
As he looked into Erestor's eyes, the half-elf sent the blonde that had just exited the range area a short mental message, thanking him and telling him he'd helped.
"You on the other hand…" Harry said, leaving the statement open. He saw the other elf removing his fighting knives from their sheathes and couldn't help but notice the Gryffindor emblem on the handles. He resolved to ask on the matter later. Casting a glance down at his own weapon, he shrugged his shoulders.
After sliding his sword back into the scabbard, he then removed them both from his belt and threw them behind him to where he knew Legolas stood. He took his back from around his shoulders, followed quickly by his coat and tossed them in the same direction.
Crossing his arms at the forearm, he pulled both of his fighting knives from their sheaths and worked himself into a starting stance.
"I hope this aids you Harry Potter." The dark haired elf said sincerely. Harry responded with a weak smile before they began to circle.
x-x-x-x-x-x
"Haldir of Lorien." An elf, tall upon his beautiful black horse and kindness in his eyes spoke to Lóthlorien's Marchwarden. Haldir was stood two meters in front of the elf that spoke and the party of five a short way behind him. "I, along with my companions here travelled from Mirkwood with hopes of seeing my son." The elf explained. "The Anniversary of his birth seemed to have… slipped his mind."
Haldir's eyebrows rose slowly at this new revelation and he allowed the smallest of smiles to play over his face before he remembered whose company he was in. He looked over the group of six before him.
"The Lord and Lady request I escort your party to the main city." He bowed his head and turned to his brothers, rolling his eyes as he did so. "Why, of all morns to do so, would Harry choose this one to visit the Good Councillor?" His brothers simply grinned at him.
"Let us go Haldir. Harry will return when his and Legolas' business is complete in Imladris as you very well know. Has he not told you he would see you this eve?" Haldir scowled at Rúmil but the other elf just laughed. "Come." And they all began walking towards the city.
Half an hour after the large group had started their journey, the elf on the horse that had spoken to Haldir before, broke the silence with a question aimed at the Marchwarden himself.
"I do not wish to pry Haldir," the elf began, "but who is this being you spoke of? I believe I overheard you name him, or her, Harry." Haldir was momentarily thrown by the abruptness of the question but he then realised who was asking. The other elf was merely curious. That did not mean the Lorien elf had the right to answer any questions.
"His name is Harry Potter, my lord. Though that is all I can say about him at this time. Rest assured all questions will be answered should Harry allow it when he returns from his trip to Imladris this eve." He answered, choosing his words correctly.
"Well now I am intrigued." The elevated elf commented with a smile.
"We all were when he arrived my lord."
x-x-x-x-x-x-x
Erestor removed the remains of his shredded tunic and threw it aside in the same direction he threw what was left of his robes not 10 minutes before. He stood in a pair of comfortably baggy slacks and nothing to cover his chest. A thin leather belt, hardly noticeable to those who were not looking at it, was wired around his waist.
Harry stood grinning lightly not five paces from the de-clothed elf. His own shirt had been lost long ago but he had his tank top on and was not as exposed as Erestor was now.
The dark hair elf returned his opponents grin. He tapped his two knifes together at the blade and the pair danced again.
Flawless movements, exquisitely preformed. Blades clashed with blades, metal on metal.
Harry ducked a particularly high swipe from Erestor and swung a leg out, tripping the other from behind. Said elf felt to the ground, landing hard on his back, effectively knocking the wind out of him. During the time it took for the fallen being to get his breath back, Harry had moved away and prepared to take a running attack.
When he was breathing normally again, instead of sitting up and facing forward as one would normally do, he lifted his legs up and rolled backwards. When he was knelt firmly on the ground again, he snapped his neck back, taking his hair back also, and looked up to see Harry start his approach.
The kneeling elf bent further to the ground until Harry was three meters away and then he pushed up with his hands and the balls of his feet. He leapt into the air a full bodies length, flipped (straight-legged) over Harry's head, held his knife out and caught the fabric of the item of clothing still covering the other's chest. His knife dragged down until the back of the item was practically cut in half.
He landed strongly on his feet facing away from his opponent but quickly turned around should the other choose to attack. He could hear gasps being aired throughout the surrounding crowd but his focus was solely on the half-elf that currently had his back to him.
Erestor watched as the cloth fell from Harry's back and gasped himself at the site it left in its wake. Etched onto the former Gryffindor's back was… something. It looked, to Erestor, to be a bird he saw once upon a moon when he was in the company of Godric Gryffindor. He could not quite remember the name of it but he remembered it to be among the most, if not the most, beautiful creature he had ever laid his eyes on.
Written by Messrmarauder (aka Ithil hin)