Celebwen Telcontar: This is a new story, with some elements of Eregon in it, and a major LOTR HP crossover as the main entrée. Please don't Flame me, and please review!
The garden, always peaceful in the summertime, was now blooming wildly. Harry straightened, bearing a thistle blossom, and looked around, satisfied. The garden now was a menagerie of beauty and glory. All save one spot; a green stone about a foot long and in the shape of an oval. It had ivory spiderwebbing over the surface, and looked like it was half jade half marble. It sat in the flowerbeds, and looked completely out of place.
"Hullo. What are you?" he asked the rock, picking it up. It cheeped strangely enough, and was warm in his hand. "What in Merlin's name?" he asked. He took it inside to put with his other rocks, an assortment of pretty and interesting stones he had found in the garden and wherever.
"Boy, get down here! Make dinner for us while we're away!" his aunt cried. He sighed and trudged down the stairs, in time to see Petunia, Vernon and Dudley leave the house for some awards ceremony as he rifled in the pantry for something to make.
The rock weighed heavily on his mind as he made dinner, boiling the champagne then adding the chicken and the leeks. He ran upstairs to look at it, and saw it rocking back and forth.
"Merlin!" he cried as it fell to the floor with a thud. It rolled across the room, banged into his foot, and then a spider-like webbing of cracks appeared on its surface. "It must be an egg of some sort," he pondered. Then, the egg broke open, and out plopped a small pale green dragon. Yes, a dragon. It was about the size of his forearm, and it looked like its scales were burnished pale jade. He reached out to touch the little dragonet, and as soon as he touched it, pain raced up his left arm, settling in his palm.
It itched and burned as if bitten by a spider, and he looked at his left palm to see a shining oval on it. The shape was brilliant silver, and gleamed in the electric light; he reached out to the tiny lizard again, expecting pain, but nothing happened save the tiny dragon nuzzling his right hand and curling up on his floor. He grabbed a quill and parchment and began a hasty letter to Hagrid explaining the events, and set it on the desk for Hedwig when she returned from hunting.
He then picked up the small green dragon and placed it on his pillow. The little creature looked at him through silted golden eyes, and butted his hand again. Harry stroked the dragon's side, and covered it with a portion of the blanket. As a smell of cooking chicken came to him, he bolted down with apprehension to change the chicken to a different sauce and grab another chicken breast, put it on a plate, and bring it upstairs to give to the dragon.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOAs the weeks passed to the return to Hogwarts, the baby dragon grew rapidly. He kept the little one in the back yard during the night, bringing it in during the day. He had gotten an answer to Hagrid that once one of these breeds of dragons hatched, it would be his forever. His magic was growing because of his dragon, now named Galenár, as was his ability to control wand less magic. He was told not to use any type of magic whatsoever until Dumbledore could train him in the magical words of his wand less magic.
Harry received a feeling of affection from Galenár, and he sent the feeling back with interest. The dragon, now the size of a house, had already gone on to Hogwarts via air, and was living in the Forbidden Forest.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOBanner flew lower, flapping her wings with a powerful thrust.
Where are we going? her Rider asked, clutching her sides with his legs. The saddle was getting slightly small for her, and she labored against the updraft to sink to the lawn of the castle.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Like Mithrandir?
I suppose. A different type of wizard, though.
I see. My brother would rather be here than me.
But you're the one Elessar sent. Not only has he traveled with you, but also you know Orcs. Besides my former arguments, you have redeemed yourself.
What do you mean, Banner?You had fallen to the Lure of the Ring, but your force of willpower broke it. Many Men would have fallen, Galadriel herself almost did, but almost none of them would have been redeemed in the eyes of the Valar. Or in the eyes of the mighty King Elessar.
Faramir wouldn't have fallen in the first place.
Boromir, which is more difficult: avoiding a pit trap, or climbing out of it?
Climbing out of it, I suppose—
My point exactly. Besides that, they want Fellowship members only. And was Faramir a member of the Fellowship?
No, but—
Precisely my point. Ai! Banner dove to one side as a tree branch swung at her, hitting her wing. It would have hit Boromir if she had not moved.
By the Valar! What breed of tree... or monster... is that!I believe it's a Whomping Willow. A very rare breed of tree.
I can see why they call it that. Banner looked at the murderous tree once more, hissed, and caught sight of a young dragon, maybe three weeks old, flying over the trees. The youngling was a brilliant green, and he landed with an artful grace that basically said he was showing off. Boromir went into the castle, leaving Banner and the new dragon to get acquainted. He needed to seek out Professor Dumbledore.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO"My boy, you will be perfect. You and your friends will need to teach Harry how to overthrow this Dark Lord, Voldemort."
"I see. So besides watching this Harry, what do I need to do?""I would like it if you became a Professor with the times you lived through under Sauron's shadow."
"An Elf would be better for that, perhaps Lord Elrond," Boromir said, trying to convince the insane professor that making him a teacher would not be a good idea.
"It just so happens that you're the only person in this time who can safely say that they've lived through Sauron's reign of terror. Everyone else can say they've read about it in the translation of Frodo's Red Book of Westmarch, but you've actually been there. You know what it's like to have no hope. Even under Voldemort's first Reign of Terror, we still had hope. It's not like when you were going to destroy the Ring of Power. If you did not succeed, nothing would."
"Forgive me, Professor—"
"Albus. My name is Albus; I would like if you used my given name."
"Forgive me, Albus, but would I not scare the boy halfway to the Shire?"
"For one thing, this is the Shire; or what it was. For another, people have been getting lax; they believe that since Voldemort was defeated once before, he will be again, and fairly quickly."
"By the Valar. This is too much. The idiots—Forgive me, Albus—"
"You're right, Boromir, they are idiots."
"They won't be safe at all, thinking like that!"
"Precisely my point, my boy! Scare them into defending themselves! They've had precious little of that, I fear."
"That makes sense. So what will I have to do?""Gain his trust, teach him in detail what Sauron did to gain his minions, and show him, with your memories, what each day was like with Mordor looming so close to your city."
"Are you insane!" Boromir cried. Then he remembered that the Headmaster was renowned for being slightly crazy. "I've been paranoid about someone in my head ever since I had that bloody ring talking to me!"
"He won't be in your head; I'll teach you how to impart your memories into his mind. It's not all that difficult, Boromir."
"Makes sense, I suppose. I'll take your history class, and teach Harry specially. What's his father's name?"
"James."
"Harry son of James."
"No, it's Harry Potter. Potter's his surname."
"Alright."
"One more thing, Boromir. Harry's family, through the mother's line, is directly descended from your brother. We've had a bit of a problem with Harry's family. They've been abusive and emotionally neglecting his care, and since it's his mother's blood that protected him, I was hoping that you'd be alright with taking him in." Boromir was stunned. Him, finish the raising of an abused and neglected sixteen-year-old boy! He knew how to care for neglect, after all his little brother had been on the short side of emotion from their father after their mother died from an illness that had swept through Minas Tirith, killing few but when it did kill it killed fast. Boromir had been ten, Faramir five.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOHarry smiled as the owls filled his room. He had several presents this year, one even from Mad Eye Moody. Moody's gift was a trunk like his own, save a four-room flat in the seventh compartment and a book on dark spells. Remus gave him a magnificent new book bag, one that had several separate and secret pockets, and was severely enlarged inside. The twins had sent him a necklace and charm that would hide magic, and would only work for him, called the Ministry Of Magic Are Morons Charm. Hagrid sent a letter explaining that his present couldn't be shipped because he would rip apart the packaging and would be hunting too many game birds and would be seen too easily, which frightened Harry considerably. The Weasleys gave him a large chocolate cake, Bill gave him a shrinkable trunk with the Gringots crest on it and directions for shrinking and enlargening it. The weight of the trunk was featherlight, even when filled to the brim with lead. Charley gave him a book on Alagaësia Rider's Dragons, which was the breed of dragon that Galenár was. Hermione gave him a book on all of the pivotal battles of the past involving dragons, one with a massive black of an extinct breed named Ancalagon the Black. Another was with a dragon named Smaug, who lived in a Dwarves cave.
Finally he received a letter from Dumbledore, explaining that he had found someone who was his mother's uncle, and he could choose to live with this new person instead of the Dursleys. He rubbed his aching arm, looked at the chain on his bed that he had picked his way out of each night, and his filthy clothes and emaciated look, and instantly chose to live with this new person.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOThe next day, Harry heard the doorbell ring, and Uncle Vernon opened it.
"One of you freaks, is it? Get him out of here before I kill him. And you." A stocky redheaded man made his way up the stairs, his face rippled with burn scars, and his smile warm.
"Harry!" Charley cried. Harry pointed his wand at him, making sure his Ministry Of Magic Are Morons necklace was on properly.
"Revelio!" Harry muttered. A beam of white light encased Charley and left, leaving the second eldest Weasley child unchanged, save a nasty healing burn on his left arm that looked like it was made of charcoal. Harry winced.
"It's a third degree burn. It doesn't hurt; it burned off all my nerves in the area. I'll have another scar, but that's all I'll get from the encounter. How did you perform the Revealing Charm when you're only sixteen?"
"Fred and George's Ministry Of Magic Are Moron's charm."
"Oh, them. I heard them making the charms when I was there. They got Ginny to perform some self-defensive magic with her charm on, and the Ministry didn't fall down upon them."
"Excellent. What else have they come up with?""After Dumbledore came with a man who claimed to be your uncle, nine-hundred and seventy eight times great, they decided to make something they call a 'City in a Case', basically an entire city made of white stone, built into a mountainside, the mountain is included, and will house over fifteen thousand people. The walls are spell repellant; the citadel is high and lofty with a tower seven hundred feet higher than the walls. The fields are inside of the city as well, and they've only made one city. It went to Boromir, and he immediately opened it, squishing Ottery St. Catchpole out of the way. His dragon, Banner, is now in the fields, refugees from towns He Who Must Not Be Named has destroyed are in the city, and the Order is in the Citadel. We live in the Sixth Circle, where mainly the rich people and those in favor with the King would live. If you choose to live with Boromir, you will live in the Citadel. For he is Steward, and since there is no one of blood relation to Elessar here, save him and he is already Steward, he is ruling."
"How well supported is the town?""The fields that are not occupied by Banner will easily have livestock, huge cornfields, wheat, potatoes, trees, fruit; vegetables... the whole city could live off its own produce quite easily for many years. Only half the city is full, and the people will be using magic to help the crops grow. The front gates are iron and Mithril, a rare metal that is mined only by Dwarves, and the streets are cobblestone. Almost all of the professors in Hogwarts have moved to the city, including Hagrid, who moved to the Pelennor Fields. There is a river that was included in the plans, and it runs around the city and mountain like a moat. Valar help anyone who is trying to get in, otherwise they won't!"
"Sounds like it. Is Galenár in the city as well?"
"Yes he is. As is Hermione, and the entire D. A. and all of their families."
"Remus?"
"Yes."
"Do anyone save me and this Boron...Boron..."
"Boromir."
"Yes, him, have dragons?"
"No one to my knowledge. I have to tell you a few things about Alagaësia Rider's Dragons when we reach Minas Tirith."
"Minas Tirith?"
"The Guarded City. It's the city that Fred and George made."
"I see."
"Well," Charley said before getting to Harry's bedroom and packing with a word. "I see Mad-Eye gave you one of the Flat trunks he uses from time to time."
"Flat trunks?"
"Trunks with Flats in them. Two, three, or four rooms in them."
"I see. So I got the largest kind."
"Not necessarily. The size of your bathtub, if it was the largest one, is about the size of a small lake, has a diving board, five hundred and fifty taps, a mural of a herd of Poseidon Chariot Horses, white horses with golden manes and tails and bronze hooves."
"I see. Well, that must be it, because that is what my bathtub looks like. The bedroom is the size of the Gryffindor Common room, the kitchen is stocked with every food imaginable and won't ever run out, the bed is King sized, the comforters are a brilliant red accentuated with gold trim, the living room has every convenience known to wizard kind, my bedroom closet is stocked with clothes that will fit me no matter what, and the rug is plush, at least three inches deep!"
"You have the largest style of Eight-Compartment Trunk around. It will allow itself to be modified, just say 'Modefico' at a wall and keep an image of the room you wish to add in your mind."
"What about for something like the Room of Requirement?"
"That's very advanced magic. Come on, let's get everything in the car, and then we'll be going."
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When the car stopped by the silvery gates, Harry stepped out of the automobile with Charley. Together they got his stuff out and shrunk so that Harry could carry it in his pockets. Hedwig rode on his shoulder. They came to a gate where a man was standing in silver and black livery, with a silver tree embroidered on the velvet black tunic front, the mail peeking down over the arms. He wore black boots and a pointed helm; in his hand was a long sword.
"Molokai, we are Charles Arthur Weasley and Harold James Potter."
"How do I know that? For all I know you could be Death Eaters or Uruk-hai in disguise. What's your Patronus, boy?"
"A stag, like my father's Animagus form."
"I see. And you, how did you receive the burns that mar your chest in a deep purple and black scar?"
"A Northworm that has been around for over 100 thousand years, named Scatha the Worm."
"Good. You may enter. Horses are placed for your use at the other side of this gate. When you leave, please leave the horses with us, and we will be grateful."
"We are coming to live here. Harold is Lord Boromir's distant nephew."
"Top circle, Citadel. You, Charles Weasley, can go to the Sixth Circle. Your mother is doing an excellent job at being a Healer. We still need more Healers if you can spare them."
"Unfortunately we can't."
"Ah, well. We'll get over it sometime."
"Good." The man banged twice on the iron and Mithril gates, and they swung open after a clatter of chains and bolts, and Harry and Charley entered on foot. A large stable was near there, and people were exercising horses of all sizes and breeds. A man came up, looked the two of them over, and told them to come close, where he waved with his wand, made an incantation, and nobleman's clothes appeared in thin air, boots and heavy gloves included.
"We can't have our leader's nephew wandering around in a set of Wizard's Robes, now can we? Get dressed in the back." Charley and Harry obliged, and Harry felt like he was going to fall down with the weight of the chain mail. He felt absolutely ridiculous in the soft clothing, embroidered with gold and bronze threads, his clothes incredibly rich and noble. He now wore a cloak of thick mahogany leather lined with fur, and a magnificent helm of pure silver, a helmet skirt of silvery chain mail falling down over his shoulders and neck. Around his waist was a sword of silver, two handled and heavy.
"I look like an idiot," he commented to Charley after getting dressed.
"This is how we are supposed to look here, because we are able to move better. The chain mail and armor is spell resistant, unlike any of the Wizard's Robes you're used to."
"Hmm. It still is too heavy."
"Would you rather have weight and protection, or no protection and no weight?"
"Weight and protection."
"Exactly." Charley walked out to see the hostler holding two stallions, one a dark chestnut and the other a dark dapple grey with a white mane and tail. Both had heavy saddles and bridles on, and Charley mounted. Harry managed a mount, after watching Charley do it, and Charley told him the beginnings of riding.
"His name is Stybba, My Lord. And Lord Charles?"
"Yes, Stephan?"
"His name is Firemane."
"Excellent. Firemane. Come, Harry." Charley led the way through the Pelennor Fields that were rich with wide tithe and many orchards, shepherds and cowherds; fields of wheat and of corn. Rye was abundant, as were other staples, and people looked up as he passed. High in the sky came a black bird to rest on a bare patch of ground, and looked up. "That, Harry, is Banner, the Lord Boromir's dragon. Galenár is near, and will be here ere nightfall. But that is another story. Look yonder!" And Harry looked, and saw the dark mass of Mt. Mindolluin, the deep purple shadows of its high glens, and its tall face whitening in the rising day. And upon its outthrust knee was the Guarded City with its seven walls of stone so strong and old that it seemed to have not been built but carven from the very bones of the Earth.
The Tower of Ecthelion, standing high within the topmost wall, shone out against the sky, glimmering like a spike of pearl and silver, tall and fair and shapely, and its pinnacle glittered as if wrought of crystals; and white banners broke and fluttered from the battlements in the morning breeze, and high and far he heard a clear ringing as of silver trumpets.
So Harry and Charley rode to the Great Gate of Minas Tirith, and its Mithril and iron gates rolled back before them.
"Harry Potter!" people cried in awe.
"Let us pass!" Charley cried. Men fell back from the command in his voice, and the two of them rode up the long winding road.
For the fashion of Minas Tirith was such that it was built on seven levels, each delved into the hill, and about each was set a wall, and in each wall a gate. But the gates were not set in a line: the Great Gate in the City Wall was at the east point of the circuit, but the next faced half south an the third half north, and so to and fro upwards, so that the paved way that climbed towards the citadel turned first this way and teen that across the face of the hill. And each time that it passed the like of the Great Gate it went through an arched tunnel, piercing a vast pier of rock whose huge out-thrust bulk divided in two all the circles of the City save the first. For partly in the primeval shaping of the hill, partly by the mighty craft and labor of old there stood up from the rear of the wide court behind the Gate a towering bastion of stone its edge sharp as a ship-keel facing east. Up it rose even to the level of the topmost circle, and there was a crowned by a battlement; so that those in the Citadel might, like mariners in a mountainous ship, look from is high peak sheer down upon the Gate seven hundred feet below. The entrance to the Citadel also looked eastward but was delved in the heart of the rock; thence a long lamp-lit slope ran up to the seventh gate. Thus men reached at last the High Court, an the Place of the Fountain before the feet of the White Tower tall and shapely fifty fathoms from its base to the pinnacle where the banner of the Stewards floated a thousand feet above the plain.
A strong citadel it was indeed, and not to be taken by a host of enemies, if there were any within that could hold weapons; unless some foe could come behind an scale the lower skirts of Mindolluin an so come upon the narrow shoulder that joined the hill of Guard to the mountain pass. But the shoulder, which rose to the height of the fifth wall, was hedged with great ramparts right up to the precipice that over hung its western end, in that space stood the houses and domed tombs of bygone kings and lords, forever silent between the mountain and the tower. Harry gazed in wonder at the stone city, vaster and more splendid than anything he had ever dreamed of.
At last they came out of the shadow of the Seventh Gate, and into the bright sunlight that glowed here on the smooth walls and rooted pillars and the great arch with the keystone carven in the likeness of a crowned and kingly head. Harry and Charley dismounted, for no horse was allowed in the Citadel.
The Guards of the gate were robed in black, and their helms were of strange shape, high crowned, with long cheek-guards close fitting to the face, and above the cheek-guards were set the white wings of sea birds; but the helms gleamed with a flame of silver, for they were indeed wrought of Mithril heirlooms form the glory of the old days. Upon the black surcoats were embroidered in white a tree blossoming like snow beneath a silver crown and many pointed stars. This was the livery of the Heirs of Elendil, and none wore it now in the entire city, save the Guards of the Citadel before the Court of the Fountain where the White Tree once had grown.
The door opened, but no one could be seen to open it. Harry looked into a great hall. It was lit by deep windows in the wide aisles at their sides beyond the rows of tall pillars that upheld the roofs. Monoliths of black marble, they rose to great capitals carved in many strange figures of beasts and leaves and far above in shadow the wide vaulting gleamed with dull gold, inset with flowering traceries of many colors. No hangings nor storied webs, nor any things of woven stuff w or of wood were there to be seen in that long solemn hall; but between the pillars there stood a silent company of tall images graven in cold stone. At the back of the hall was a pair of thrones, one high and under a canopy of stone, but empty, the other at the foot of the high dais and holding a man.
He was a tall man with a fair and noble face, dark haired and grey eyed, proud and stern of glance. He was dressed as one of the guards, only far more richly, and had no helm on his head. In one hand was a rod of white with a gold cap, on his knee was a great horn tipped with silver. He rose and greeted Charley.
"And this must be Harry," the man concluded, looking down at him. Harry gulped.
"Er... Yes, sir."
"No need for all the formality. I get that enough from everyone else, I don't need it from you. Come; let us break your fast as you tell me what has been transpiring with your Uruk-hai relatives."
"Uh... Alright." Harry let himself be steered away as Charley walked off, explaining that he had to get back to Mrs. Weasley. By now, Harry was feeling anything but calm and patient and wanted to run back to the horse and ride down to find Galenár.
"Don't worry, Harry. We'll get you trained up and I'm sure that you've never had anything like what we're going to put you through." He laughed, and Harry felt his heart lighten. Boromir reminded him a little bit of Hagrid, but more like Sirius or Remus.
Thinking of Sirius made him melancholy, and Boromir noticed.
"What is it? What has darkened your mind?"
"My Godfather died not too long ago. He was more my father than anything."
"I'm sure you miss him. It's alright to grieve, little one."
"I… " Harry managed slightly. "You remind me a lot of him, actually. He was kind, but had come from a bad family. His brother, Regeulus, was killed by Death Eaters for backing out of a job Voldemort wanted done." Harry stopped and bit into a white cake, which he found was quite good, for its size.
"Once you are finished with breakfast, then we can get you situated in a chamber of your own to place your gear in, and we will get to work. You are my heir, and will be taught as such. First things first, you need to eat, though. You look as though you have not been eating at all."
"I can eat… all of this?" Harry asked. This was much more than the Dursleys ever gave him.
"All of it! That's only the first course! What did Dursley do, starve you!"
"Practically."
"That will most certainly not happen here! Eat, please!"
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Boromir was shocked. He didn't believe that the aunt and uncle of this boy would go so far as to starve him! And the boy didn't look healthy at all either. He looked downright sick, in point of fact, from what he remembered; the boy looked like he had the nasty influenza that stole his mother from him.
"Harry, I want you to go down to the Sixth Circle, and see Lady Healer Weasley. You look ill, and I do not want to loose another member of my family. Come, I cannot go with you, for I have paperwork and to see several people."
"Alright." Harry stood up and walked, or rather trumped, out, the mail and clothing being too much for him to walk in at the moment.
Boromir was worried. The boy shouldn't be that sick, unless his aunt and uncle were both blind and uncaring. He got back to the paperwork, then, after seeing a couple of people who had reports about Voldemort's doings, he went down the Houses of Healing and saw Molly Weasley.
"Lady Weasley," he began.
"Yes, My Lord?"
"Harry is checked in here, is he not?"
"Yes, with a form of influenza. Right now he is being looked after by Healer Granger."
"Good. Please tell me if there is any change,"
"Would you like to see him?"
"Yes, please, Lady Weasley."
"Alright. He's not as bad as it could be, but we're trying out the normal methods first. If they don't work, then we'll move on to more unconventional methods."
"If only Aragorn or Elrond were here," Boromir murmured.
"They would be of great aid, I must say," Molly replied. She showed Boromir to Harry's room, and he found his young charge lying on the bed, talking to the Healer while she worked over him.
"Harry, if worse comes to worse; we'll have to import a couple of St. Mungo's Healers. I hope it doesn't come to that."
Healer Granger tipped a flask of something brilliant violet in color down Harry's throat.
"Sir, he's going to be fine, I hope. Else wise, we won't have a Captain."
"You are correct, Healer Granger. May I speak with him?"
"If you had gotten here just a couple minutes earlier, you would have. I gave him a Dreamless Sleep potion."
"Oh, I see. Will you inform me when he awakens?"
"Of course, Sir."
"How is he, Hermione?"
"Sleeping, as he should be."
"Good. Have you ever seen this strain of influenza before?"
"Never, not even in the Muggle world. It seems to hit certain genes and DNA—" She seemed to realize that she was speaking an almost foreign language to him. "Certain types of people."
"It struck my mother and killed her, and left my city half full."
"Merlin's Bones! This is worse than I thought. We'll have to quarantine him and whoever sees him in this case, he could cause a much-unneeded epidemic!" Boromir felt his face go white. His charge, cause an epidemic? Of the same influenza that killed his mother? He was shocked.
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The dragon landed on the grounds and dodged the flailing tree. The other six dragons landed shortly after, followed by a greater one of magnificent silver.
"We must speak with Pallando," Mithrandir said. He jumped down and patted his dragon's neck. "Thank you, my friend." He then led the Fellowship, save Boromir, into the castle.
"Olorin!" a voice cried.
"Pallando. It is good to see you well, my friend!" Mithrandir cried. The Blue Wizard smiled and clasped Mithrandir in an embrace.
"We are ready for the war. Or at least as ready as we ever will be. Boromir is also here, and is living with my highest student, Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived."
"Against Curunir's forces, I gather?" Mithrandir said. The Blue Wizard nodded. "When Harry was just a baby, he deflected the curse of Death, shot at him by Curunir, and fired it back at him. Unfortunately he did not die by the deflected curse, and still plagues us. He has also risen his minion, Grima as you call him."
"By Varda!" Legolas cried.
"At the moment, Harry is ill, taken by some foul influenza that struck Minas Tirith, killing Lady Finduilas."
"Where is the boy?" Aragorn asked.
"In the City. Near Ottery St. Catchpole."
"I see. Gandalf, Pallando, I have to see to the boy before he dies."
"You said that Boromir is with him?" Merry asked.
"Yes, I did."
"May we go as well?"
"You, as a Knight of Gondor, should come with me at least, Pippin. And you, Merry, as you cannot be separated from your cousin."
"Thank you, Strider," both Pippin and Merry said running out to their Dragons to fly off.
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Boromir was down and ready to visit the ailing Harry once again when he heard the clattering of three horses racing up the street, and people yelling about shabby-clad men and boys riding up and giving no one any warning as to when they might come careening about a corner.
The St. Mungo's Healer came out of Harry's chamber.
"My Lord, I haven't seen anything like it. It is meant for him and him alone. From what I can tell, no one else will get sick, because it is for him. And for no one else."
"I see. Thank you for telling me this, Healer."
"Boromir, Boromir, Boromir!" a voice cried. A trio of people, two Hobbits and a Man, came careening into the room.
"Aragorn!" Boromir cried, before Merry and Pippin nearly bowled him over with their enthusiasm at seeing him alive and well.
"Where's the boy? I need to see him immediately."
"This way," Boromir cried, leading the way into the Houses.
"This is worse than I thought. Have you any Athelas?"
"Athewhat?" Hermione asked.
"Kingsfoil!"
"Kingsfoil! That weed won't help him."
"Oh yes it will, Healer. Get some, now! And you get me a bowl of water. Steaming!"
"Here you go." The red haired healer conjured a bowl of steaming water, just short of boiling. Then, Hermione came in with the Kingsfoil.
"Here you are, fresh enough so I had to gather it myself," the young woman said. Aragorn bruised the leaves and cast them into the water. A scent stole through the room, homely and hearty.
"It smells like... like playing in the sun during the times before You Know Who," the red-haired Healer said. She smiled and left to allow Aragorn to do his Healing magic.
Balrog: What happened? Why's the Fellowship here, and more importantly, why are Merry and Pippin in Minas Tirith? I thought it would only be Aragorn!
Celebwen Telcontar: Don't be a git. I made them come because of their relationship with Boromir, as children to a father figure. Don't get any nasty ideas.
Balrog: What should I care?
Celebwen Telcontar: Please review, melon nin. Namarrië.
Balrog: Review, blockheads, review, put your backs into it! Authors are spewing out their hearts! Review, you lazy louts!