A/N: I changed a few things in chapter 2 to make it more cannon compliant. You might want to skim through it, but it is just the technicalities.


With You

by Ydream08


Chapter 3

Transportation in this Merlin-forgotten-place was not to Pansy's standards.

When came morning, Pansy had managed only two or three hours of sleep when she was awoken at the noise: Aragorn had been rousing the children so that they would be traveling in haste.

Then, Pansy learned they had intended to travel by ponies. Ponies. Fucking ponies.

Standards, Pansy learned these commonners did not have.

Of course, as purebloods, there was a stable in their grounds in Parkinson's estate. Pansy's father owned a stallion and had bought her own at the age of twelve, but they never used those animals for travelling.

The notion was absurd!

Well, Pansy perhaps could have gotten used to this oddity and accept she should ride one. If it were not for the detail that, because of those Black Riders, their mounts had been chased away last night.

So, the stable was noticeably empty. The inn was barren, the customers furious at the situation although the kind innkeeper did his best to repay for this shortcoming.

Pansy's elation at this news was short-lived, however. It turns out, for Muggles, ponies are a rather privileged transport.

Much with Aragorn's probing, the innkeeper found them one pony (as ugly and unhealthy it looked, how the animal stood on its feet, Pansy had no idea) to load their travel gear, and they were set to go three hours later.

While the loudest of the children whined for the loss of his second breakfast (how come he wasn't the fattest, Pansy didn't know), Aragorn had pointed to Pansy's heeled boots out of nowhere.

"Those won't be fit to our travel. You might wish to change."

"Change into what? Something like those hideous leathers you call shoes?" Pansy replied and ignored his glare afterwards.

On hindsight, Pansy realized the man had been right. Her fashionable boots were most definitely not produced for bloody hiking.

Had anybody told her they would walk? Nope.

Their leave from the town Bree had collected some commotion. As they walked out of the main road of the town, Pansy had the chance to get a last look over the town inhabitants. She was not a fool. The curious glances thrown her way indicated that her involvement with this mismatched group would become the gossip of the century. How could it not be? Four children, a rogue man and a classy young woman set for Melin knows bloody where… Pansy couldn't guess what they would say about the Hobbits, but she hoped they twist some story of how she and Aragorn eloped. After last nights revelations, the mere thought of the reaction such gossip would elicit from Aragorn gave Pansy a satisfying (but sick, she knew) delight.

The long hours that they walked cleared Pansy's joyous wonderings irreversibly. Especially when rain started. Rain like as if someone had turned a bucket over her head!

Before they had taken an obscure road to take a somewhat cover, the clouds overhead had crowded and turned darker in colour. They had been caught in the rain ever since. Pansy's fine coat repelled water and kept her warmer (thanks magic for that) but her hair was a mess and hands were bitingly cold.

As drenched as the rest of the group was, the hike was not pleasurable regardless of how they tried to go around the hills. The thick trees barely made space for a forest road, which was nothing but a line of mud.

Aragorn was finding his way through tracking.

Tracking without any magic.

As if that was possible!

Her hair was wet. Her cheeks were cold. She was sniffing.

Pansy didn't fancy catching a cold.

"My cuts, short or long, don't go wrong," Aragorn had said before they delved through this mud-ridden road.

Don't go wrong my arse, Pansy vengefully thought. If this Squib could track a frigging thing, Pansy would change her name!

Her fluctuating emotions and internal cursing of Aragorn of course distracted Pansy. When she tripped over a root (heeled boots had nothing to do with it; the bloody root was humongous and obviously a trap sat by some evil hag), it had been well into evening.

"Aw!" She cried out. "Ow ow ow!"

"Are you alright, miss?" Frodo inquired.

Before Pansy could manage a proper footing and answer him, Aragorn was beside her. He supported her with a firm grip around her waist, helping her back to her feet. Gasping, Pansy grabbed him by response, but her brain screaming that this was strictly business was not overpowering her physical reaction.

His eyes looked stubborn and expression cross.

"Will you change your footwear now?"

Pansy could transfigure them to something else, but their comfort spells woven to its crafting would not let them turn out as a decent pair of shoes.

Not that Aragorn left her to decide. He gently dropped her down to sit. "Let's call it a day. We shall awake early tomorrow and make haste."

Hobbits were fine by the suggestion and happy to take the chance to quench their thirst and hunger.

Noticing the group was somewhat unpacking, Pansy turned back to Aragorn.

His scowl looked to be deeper as if it was possible.

"What?" Pansy felt a mix of being offended and curious.

"Your clothes are dry," Aragorn muttered and his hand found her blouse underneath Pansy's cloak. When his fingers grabbed underneath the hem to check the texture and dryness, Pansy's breath caught. She felt fire lick her skin where his fingers were closest, untouching.

"How come your clothes are dry?" Aragorn asked, this time finding her eyes to demand some answers.

"I…" What should Pansy do? Aragorn knew she was a witch (though he seemed slow to make the connection) but she didn't fancy the children knowing about it. Less people to out her, the better. But, she couldn't charm Aragorn's clothes dry and warm, and not the the Hobbits'.

Pansy Parkinson was not heartless. And, it's not like the kids were blind.

"Urgh! Fine! You are so bloody irritating, you know that, right?"

Bringing out her wand, she swished it first at Aragorn, then on herself (to dry her hair and warm her exposed limbs). Lastly, Pansy flicked her wand in the general direction of the children. And Voila! all were dry and warm.

"I can maintain the warming charm on the six of us, but we shouldn't need the drying charm again since rain stopped."

"What is happening, Merry? Here, touch me, I'm dry and warm!" came a shriek.

"Peregrin, it's not only you, friend! Touch my clothes! As if my ma collected them after a long laundry day under the warmest sun."

"Impossible! This is magic!" added an awed voice. Frodo, it was, Pansy guessed.

"Was it an Elf? I thought I saw one, like the first time we left Shire, sir!"

Pansy didn't get the chance to be involved in their amazement as Aragorn dropped something heavy in her lap.

"Here, milady, wear these." Aragorn hesitated before he shook it off and reached to untie her boots. For him, it was a harder task than it was. But, blushing, Pansy did not help him to enjoy the gesture. It wasn't everyday she was treated like a princess. Aragorn spoke, "Witch or not, you are a stubborn one if it took you so long to alter the circumstances according to your benefit."

Now, Pansy felt the heat rise under her skin for a whole different reason. "Again, Aragorn, you comment on business that does not involve you. I have good reasons to—"

"—Yes, it involves me," cut Aragorn. His eyes pinning her down, silencing her, as the light swirled in his blue irises. "It is as though rain has not touched me and sun has just kissed my skin. We travel together, Miss Parkinson. And such luxuries you have the power to bestow upon us, I feel gratified."

Their silence was occupied with Aragorn helping her wear the new shoes. They were good enough, and Pansy murmured her thanks to Aragorn for his thoughtfulness, but seeing that the man was unresponsive, she sighed.

"Okay," she agreed. She wouldn't be able to handle his brooding if they were going to walk days for the rest of their trip.

His striking eyes met with hers once again. "Okay, what?"

"Okay. I'll do anything in my power to help, as long as it does not endanger my chance of going back home."

Aragorn did not seem ecstatic with her cooperation. His brows knitted together, looking contemplative. He closed his eyes at one point and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Of course," he muttered then sighed. When he focused back at Pansy, she thought he was conflicted. Salazar let her burn bound to a stick if she understood what the bloody hell was wrong with the man.

Aragorn gave an affirmative and nodded. "Alright."

The group was silent after that. When Pansy found herself a place to sleep, she realized the Hobbits had overheard her conversation with Aragorn. Not like she could hide her identity as a witch after casting those spells.

What kind of a joke is this, Pansy thought, scowling. She would have prefered coming out as a witch to some Muggles back home if it was all going to be the same.

When. Will. This. Nightmare. End.


"We are lost, Aragorn, aren't we?" Pansy sneered.

She had been right when she thought the man would fail to track without magic. He had no fault, in a way, because he wasn't born with magic. Pansy's kind of magic, anyway.

"Who cares?" Pippin, the whiny Hobbit exclaimed. "Look all these midges that bounce off me? Are you killing them off Lady Pansy? Is it like an invisible wall of fire surrounding our skin?"

Pansy huffed. With how many questions this Hobbit was asking, Pansy had been right (again) to call him a child. She, at least, reserved patience to tolerate dear Pippin though she sounded snappy (Pansy had sworn she would be the polar opposite of her mother, in the first place, so she way trying).

"No, Pippin, I told you it is a repellent. It isn't everyday I cast a spell like this, you are lucky I even remember it."

Pippin hummed in content, but even his admiration dimmed as they spent the whole day going through the marshes and in the countryside.

Once they camped overnight and Pansy informed them she could not maintain her magic through the night, it became clear their little insect problem would not go away.

After hours of being bitten and spooked out of her skin because of noises deep within the forest, Pansy decided to lay awake and cast her charms.

It wasn't like she had the most amazing sleeping schedule back home, so from experience she could say her stamina would last at least a week even if she continued to cast basic spells like these. Maybe give or take one to two days.

Those nights, until she tired herself into sleep, Pansy would occasionally get the feeling that Aragorn was awake with her. Although the man never stirred, Pansy could swear to Merlin he was alert. Short of poking him or making conversation, there was no way of finding out so Pansy let him be. It was not as though she would take the first step.

At their fourth night, Pansy was proven right when Aragorn shot to his feet in an agility unbelonging to a man who was asleep. There were flashes of light far in the distance. From what, Pansy couldn't guess. Frodo and Aragorn exchanged a few words, but Pansy didn't pry. No need to get involved, although she could hear them alright.

Come fifth day, Aragorn announced they were close to a place called Weathertop. He outline a path they could take that was far less frequented and enable some kind of privacy for their dealings.

So the walk began once more.

It took a day and half before they saw what could be called a road. Something closest to it.

"I wonder who made this path and what for," Merry wondered.

"Maybe they were sick of walking in wilderness, genius," sneered Pansy. "They made a poor job, but even I can appreciate the attempt." And she did. If Pansy learned anything the past week ever since leaving that small town she found herself transported to, that these Muggles were helpless and pitiful creatures. It was a genuine wonder how they built civilizations in the first place.

Thinking back to Hermione Granger and all her talk about wizard and Muggle equality in advancement, Pansy wondered if the girl had been hit with a bludger in the head when she was a child. That or, Merlin forbid, Pansy had come to an era that Muggles were especially primitive.

Pansy was distracted from the dreadful thought from Aragorn's brief explanation on 'The Men of the West' and evil forces of 'Angmar' that they defended these lands from. He thought they were the ones to build these roads here. Apparently, there was a ruin of a watch-tower somewhere close. Pansy had no idea what the 'Last Alliance' was but a guy called Elendil (someone important, no doubt) had been present in that time in this very spot.

The poem that Sam Gamgee spoke next meant nothing to Pansy. It was merely another slap in her face that she was far from home. It kind of reminded her of listening to the tale of Hogwarts' establishments. Two wizards and two witches, all unmatched by power and wisdom in their era. Each with a different value and outlook on the world… All coming together to unite magical blood under the same roof to tutor them and protect them from foes.

"Going to Mordor!"

The shriek shook Pansy off her daze. When she focused back on the group, the atmosphere was grim.

Aragorn snapped, "Do not speak that name so loudly!"

They hushed into silence, scared of saying anything as tense as Aragorn seemed to be. It took them a good few hours to find a shelter close to the ruins.

When they stopped, Aragorn was quick to deduce the place had been recently occupied.

"Do you think it was Gandalf?" asked Frodo.

Pansy knew that was the wizard, Gandalf Grey. Come to think of it, the light from three days ago was in this direction. Pansy wondered if there had been a duel.

"... I do not know how the outcome came to be. However, Gandalf must have fled. Danger does not make a man laggard."

Pansy saw the marked stone Aragorn placed his hand on. "What is that?"

"We believe it a message from Gandalf," Frodo replied.

It was an unimpressive block of stone. Ordinary as any would go. Pansy hesitated only a moment before she brought out her wand. If the wizard has done this, the spell should work. "Appare Vistigium."

As a gust of shimmering gold erupted from her wand, both Aragorn and Frodo gasped. Frodo took a few steps back as the cloud twisted and propelled toward the rock. Aragorn, too, made space.

The spell searched for whatever remaining magical trace could be found. Pansy puffed her chest when the golden dust lighted in a shine that indicated it matched the trace.

"Watch closely," Pansy muttered. Unknown to her, she did not possess the most keen pair of eyes in the company.

In his eighty-seven years of life, Aragorn, son of Arathorn, has seen such magic for the first time with his very own eyes.

From Lady Parkison's wand erupted shimmering dust, later he determined to be gold, and Aragorn watched, perplexed, as it bent and shaped itself into his long dear friend Gandalf.

The mirage sparkled and left little to ascertain the details, but Aragorn would know the Grey wizard anywhere. His pointed hat was gone, though his staff was held firmly in front of the man. He rose his staff and muttered words unreadable by his lips.

Flashes of light cut the black evening identical to that of three days ago.

Pansy could open her eyes just in time to see, the golden silhouette bring his staff down to hurriedly carve in the stone.

The end of her magic forced the golden pieces to vanish out of sight and the trio were buried in blackness.

"We can be sure now," Frodo breathed out to the silence.

Pansy felt more than saw that Aragorn nod.

"I could direct the spell so that it shows whomever he fought with." Pansy was thinking quickly. "It has to be magical for the spell to recreate it; like it did to the wizard. But I have a feeling it could work—"

"What was that light!" came a shriek. "Are you all alright? Have the Black Riders already arrived?!"

Pansy jumped out of her skin at the unannounced presence of the remaining three Hobbits.

"The Black Riders?" Aragorn demanded. "Did you see them?"

"I think I did—" stammered Merry. " Even if I didn't see them, you three sure gave away where we are! What was the light show about?!"

It dawned on Pansy only then.

"Shit," she was able to mutter just before the night was pierced by a neigh of a battle horse.


*Bold and italics are directly quotes from the book, LoTR: The Fellowship of The Ring

Hope you've enjoyed the chapter. I will try not to rush with this story, but I don't want it to be too detailed as well (Constantly looking up the book as I write kind of drops my motivation with how the book contains so much background info that I can't copy & paste here as if rewriting the book T.T)

ALSO, thank you to all those lovely guest reviewers! I would have loved to reply to all of you, but at this point I'm confused how many people I am talking with. So, I will kindly ask one thing from my guests readers who wish to leave a review (and I love to read your reviews): Please pick a name of any kind so I can keep track of who is writing what and reply here in the A/Ns.

**Excuse any mistakes. It is late so I will edit it later.