**I do not own Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings, if I did... Well I don't.
This is my first attempt at Fan Fiction in MANY years. I'd appreciate any feedback, as well as a Beta! I do make my husband read through my chapters, and he gives me plenty of advice, but he also has to be nice ;)
I hope you enjoy my story
Chapter 2: Imladris
Birds. She could hear birds. Why were there birds? Hermione attempted to open her eyes, the act exhausting. She had to blink several times; her new surroundings were much brighter than the cave. Her vision steadied and she could see warm ivory walls, with pillars leading to a balcony rather than windows. The room felt like comfort and the light wooden furniture with vines carved into them reminded her of her wand.
Where was her wand?
The thought had her sitting upright instantly, the pain shooting throughout her body. Looking down she noticed that her clothes were gone and she was in a white and ivory gown, similar to a nightgown. Panicking, she glanced around the room, eyes darting to various points, before she let out a sigh of relief. She saw both her wand and bag sitting atop a table across the room. But then she noticed the man sitting beside the table.
He had long dark hair and blue eyes that were striking beneath defined brows. He had on long crimson robes, similar to those of the Wizarding world. Atop his head sat a silver circlet, the bauble glittering in the sunlight coming in. It was then she noticed his pointed ears.
He was no man.
She was staring at an Elf.
"It is good to see you are finally awake. It has been several days since you were found within our borders, unconscious. " He stood, gliding over to her bed almost soundlessly. "My name is Lord Elrond. Do you know where you are?"
She shook her head. "I don't, sir. My name is Hermione Granger."
He frowned. "You have a strange name… Hermione." He seemed to struggle with the word.
"She is a strange young woman." Hermione turned to the door to see an elderly man in long gray robes, leaning against a wooden staff which was adorned with a rough crystal at the end of it. His robes were a dark grey, with fraying and mud showing his travels along the hem. He had a long gray beard that sat against his chest and his eyes twinkled as he stared at the witch. "She is our salvation, Elrond."
The Elven Lord turned to the young woman sitting on the bed, shocked.
"Tell me, my dear," The older man walked into the room, sitting himself at the foot of her bed. "How did you come to be here?"
She looked between the two strangers. She was clearly out of her element and wasn't sure how to proceed. The Statute of Secrecy was running through her mind as she struggled to remember all of the laws and bylaws that might allow her to explain her circumstances. Normally she could, but her mind seemed foggy.
"My name is Gandalf the Grey; you are in Rivendell, at the Healing House of Lord Elrond. Would it be better to have your wand?" Her eyes shot to the elder, searching his for any indication as to how he knew that's what it was. He merely chuckled at her reaction. "I know what you are. So am I." He whispered and the crystal in his staff began to glow.
Hermione nodded wordlessly. Could she trust them? She had no idea who they were. As she leaned over to swing her legs off the edge of the bed she was halted as Elrond was already at the table and bringing her the wand and the bag.
"Please." He held them out to her. "You are safe here."
She took her wand and pointed it into the opening of her bag. A small metal basin flew into her hand and she set it on the bed before them. Elrond gently set the beaded bag beside her on the end table and watched her carefully.
"May I have some water?" She asked.
Gandalf handed her the pitcher from the opposite end table, however she stopped him when he also reached for the glass. She poured the contents into the basin, slowly filling it to the brim. She tapped the edge of it gently and the water stilled, not a single ripple muddied its surface. She brought her wand to her temple and thought hard about the past half day. The assignment, Norway, Fillip. Images crowded her mind as she extracted the memory. The wisp was drawn from her skin, eliciting a gasp from Lord Elrond and a chuckle from Gandalf.
She took a deep breath. Glancing at the two men she steadied herself.
"I… I am not sure how I ended up here. I will try to explain what I can. I am from England and I am a witch." She eyed them carefully, gauging their reaction.
Not even a flinch.
She breathed a sigh of relief and continued. "I am very well known where I am from, for my knowledge of Ancient Runes, and my knowledge in general. I was asked by another country's magical community to assist them in identifying some runes found in a cave. From there, I'd have to show you." Hermione gestured to the basin on the bed. "This is a pensieve. It will allow you to witness my memories. You will not be able to interact with anyone in the memories, only observe. Do you understand?"
The two men nodded, glancing curiously at the basin. She took a deep breath then leaned into the liquid, submerging her face. The water didn't chill her skin as she found herself floating back into the cave, seeing Fillip and herself staring at the wall.
She felt Elrond and Gandalf's presence before she heard them. "We were in the mountains in Norway, a northern country noted for its mountains and fjords. These runes had been found and I was called to investigate." She explained, moving towards her memory self, making note of the distance and any outward anomalies before…
As her mind trailed off she saw what was about to happen and watched with intent. Memory Hermione began to scream at the young man in the cave with her. She was clutching her bag to her chest as he screamed and reached for her.
Hermione frowned as she saw the scene unfold.
"This isn't right." She whispered. "This isn't what I saw."
There were no flames engulfing Memory Hermione. She was simply standing in the cave, screaming, and then she was just gone.
As the memory ended the three observers found themselves back in Hermione's room.
"There were flames." She looked between the two men. "I was surrounded by blinding flames that stretched taller than me. I was engulfed." She had tears in her eyes. "I am not crazy and I don't hallucinate."
Gandalf patted her hand. "My dear child, we believe you. Your clothes were burnt when you were found. It was as predicted. For we also know what was written on those stone walls in your world."
Elrond nodded. "Those Runes were meant for you, Hermione. No one else would have been able to activate them."
"Activate what?"
"Send your finest to the Middle Earth Plains. Send your brightest to quell the shadow. Send with haste, send with flames. Send your bravest, send your hero." Lord Elrond strolled to the balcony. "It was a plea from long ago."
"From who? How long ago?" She sat on the edge of the bed, afraid to try to stand unaided.
"From my mother, Lady Galadriel. She dwells in Lothlorien Realm. It was sent three thousand years ago. On the eve of battle, when Men and Elves were to march together into Mordor. Into shadow. She hoped that she could send a plea across the world, to call upon the one who could save us. Who could aid us in that terrible war."
"Three thousand… But the dating on the runes in that cave were less than half that!" Hermione explained. "Best we could determine they were just over a thousand."
"Time works differently in many realms. You should know the secrets of time, Miss Granger."
At the statement her head whirled around to look at Gandalf again. Secrets of time… how would he know that? How could he know that?
Unless… his eyes. They twinkled as if he knew the punch line of a joke untold. The way they smiled before his mouth did. Another image of the man came to the forefront of her mind and she gasped. She imagined him with half-moon spectacles and purple billowing robes, a phoenix behind him and a bowl of lemon drops in front of him.
"Professor?" Her eyes welled up and she could feel the tears falling. "Headmaster, is that you?" She cautiously reached for his hand. "A-Albus?" She sobbed.
"It is good to see you, my dear. I would've told you, but you are the brightest witch of your age. I knew you'd figure it out." She sobbed as he pulled her close. She collapsed in tears on the bed, her head buried against the wizard. "It is alright, dear. I know this is quite an onslaught of information for you to process."
"You-You died!" She cried, clutching his grey robes. "I helped bury you! I mourned you! How are you here? How did you survive?"
Her former headmaster pulled her to look at him and wiped the tears from her face. "That is a story for another time, my child. I promise I will tell you, for you deserve to know the truth. But, for now, be content with the knowledge that I am alive and well. Here, at least, I am Gandalf the Grey. But we cannot delay, Hermione. We must prepare you. I do believe it would be easier for you to learn of the woes of this world from Lord Elrond's library."
"You still haven't explained…" She paused. "Why me?"
"Send your bravest. Send your hero." Gandalf smiled. "You are the epitome of Gryffindor Courage. Lady Galadriel called for the bravest. Feats of strength were not what she sought. Warriors are plenty in these lands. She called for the bravest. Bravery comes from your heart, not from your strength."
"My mother knew that only someone extraordinary could help us. Could save us." The Elven man moved back into the room, his grace seemingly effortless.
"You still haven't explained when I am, pro… Gandalf." She caught herself. "I know you said I was in Rivendell… but where is that? I've never heard of this place, even in ancient texts."
"You won't find Rivendell in any ancient texts, Hermione." Elrond explained. "You are currently in Middle-Earth. It is October in the Year 3018 of the Third Age."
"3018?" Hermione's vision blurred again. "Wh-Where is your library?" She asked, her voice shaking.
"Library? Child you must rest." He looked to Gandalf. "Why would you suggest the library? She is clearly still weak."
"That is simply the way of Hermione Granger. She will learn more than we could ever teach her from the pages of your tomes. Only then would she have her answers." Gandalf sighed, standing from the edge of the bed. "We should take our leave, let her get ready for the day. We should send Lady Arwen in to help her, if you'll approve my Lord Elrond."
He nodded, turning back to the young woman. "Lady Arwen is my daughter, she'll be along shortly. We had some gowns made for you, I'm afraid your garments were severely damaged when my guards found you at the borders of the canyon."
Hermione looked down at the gown, a small smile on her face. "I thank you for protecting my modesty."
The two nodded at the young witch before leaving the room. When the door shut all she could hear were birds. Simple chirps and songs filled the air. Her mind wandered to Harry and Ron. They'd be so worried. Harry would probably have gone with Kingsley to meet with Gjurd Bengtsson when she hadn't owled.
Her eyes swelled with tears once more. After the war, after Voldemort, why would she ever have to worry about fear or danger again? She worked in Runes! For all intents and purposes she had one of the safest jobs in the Ministry.
And Dumbledore… Gandalf… how would he ever explain that? Harry saw the green light. He heard the words from Snape's very mouth. Even Snape's memories hadn't indicated that he knew Dumbledore was alive. She had mourned the loss of her Headmaster, a mentor and a friend.
A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. A beautiful woman appeared in the doorway.
"Hello, my name is Arwen. I am here to help you adjust to Imladris." She smiled softly and flowed through the room with the same grace as her father. "I have some gowns for you in here."
She opened a wardrobe on the far side of the room and inside were many gowns, all perfectly tailored to fit Hermione's form.
She gently stood, taking easy steps as she crossed the room, grateful for the patience of Arwen. She reached for the fabric, feeling the softness of the sleeves beneath her touch. "I can't accept a gift like this! One, perhaps, but this is an entire wardrobe!" She protested as the elf simply smiled at her.
"You are an honored guest, lady Hermione. We treat our guests with honor and do not see these as gifts. My father has told me who you are, how you came here by my Grandmother's plea. I remember when the guards brought you here, your clothes were burnt and you were wrapped in the cloak of my brother Elladan." She smiled at the young woman before her. "Accept these, not as a gift, but as a necessity. You cannot wear the healing robe forever."
Hermione blushed, looking back down at the white gown she wore. She knew that Arwen was right, she needed clothes. But these gowns are fit for royalty!
"Which would you like to wear? I do believe that the green would suit you." The elf murmured, seeing the look of acceptance on her face. "Or, at Gandalf's suggestion, we did have a red and gold one made for you, as well."
As she pulled out the garment Hermione felt her tears well up again. Arwen held up a gorgeous crimson gown. It had a gold ribbon under the bust and along the hem, and lions were sewn into the skirt with a delicate stitch. It was beautiful, and it was a beautiful acknowledgement to her house.
"This is lovely." She whispered, her voice catching with emotion. "I'd… I'd like to wear this one."
Arwen handed her the garment and helped her over to the changing screen on the other side of the room. Behind the intricately designed partition Hermione began untying the healing gown that she had been wearing, taking great care to attempt to hide her scars from her companion. She knew she'd probably have to explain them to Lord Elrond, as he had already healed her and had most likely seen them already. To try to reiterate what each of these blemishes truly mean to the young witch would be a discussion she did not possess the strength for.
The elf could tell that the younger woman was modest, simply by how she shied her body away as she undressed. Such actions are uncommon amongst the elves, with such long lives; simple trifles such as nudity haven't bothered members of their race for some time. However, out of respect, she turned as the young woman laid the garment over the edge of the partition screen. Arwen held the dress up to allow her to slip underneath without exposing herself.
As the fabric slid against her skin Hermione was surprised at the lightness of the dress. Instead of the thick weight of velvet the dress felt more like silk. The dress hugged her curves without being overly tight, simply showing the shape that clearly defines a woman. The neckline scooped, sitting just off her shoulder, and only accentuating her collarbones. The thick golden ribbon across her waist did compliment her bust, one she had often thought on the small side, by defining her waistline. Below the ribbon was her favorite part: the embroidered lions. They started at hip level, increasing in number down the length of the skirt until there were dozens along the hemline. The thread glistened in the light making the embroidery dance with every movement.
Arwen pulled the laces through the back as Hermione ran her hands over the skirt, relishing the smoothness beneath her fingertips. She could tell the young woman had apprehensions about her stay amongst the elves, but her father had not told her much about their new guest. She didn't speak as though from Gondor or Rohan, and Arwen couldn't begin to identify her accent. The realm of Middle-Earth may be vast, but being the daughter to the Lord of Rivendell, she could still easily discern where one was from.
She tied the last ribbon, straightening the laced string as she smiled to the younger woman. "There is a mirror in the wash room if you'd care to look. I'll grab some slippers for you before we depart to the library." Arwen offered with a gesture to another alcove near the partition screen.
Hermione felt… almost giddy as she made her way to the other room, her bare feet padding along the floor. As she turned into the entryway of the powder room her breath caught in her throat. She was beautiful. The last time she thought she looked beautiful was for Bill and Fleur's wedding when she wore the red dress that was destroyed when…
She shut her eyes, her breath coming out in shudders. She couldn't do that. Not now. Once she could discuss everything with Gandalf and Elrond, then she could think of home. But, for now, she must focus on the task at hand, and that meant one thing: The Library of Rivendell.
Taking a moment to steel herself she began to attempt to smooth her hair. She glanced around and found a few brushes and combs laid on the counter for her near the water basin. She tentatively traced one the elaborately carved handles with her finger before picking it up and attempting to guide the bristles through her unruly curls.
The lack of resistance made her gasp and she turned to the mirror once more. Where she had just run the brush was no longer unruly frizzy curls that had topped her head since childhood. Instead there were soft ringlets, glistening as though she had just used an entire bottle of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion. She repeated the action, on a different section of hair, to find the same result. She ran the grooming tool through the rest of her wild curls until nothing remained but smooth honey-brown ringlets that fell just past her shoulders, softly brushing the ribbon tied at the back of her dress. She laced her fingers through the strands, marveling at the smoothness.
"Are you almost ready, Hermione?" Arwen called from the other room.
"Yes!" She replied, setting the brush down and swept non-existent dust off her dress. With one last glance in the mirror she took a deep breath and took the step back into the chamber.
The elf looked up as she exited the room. "You look lovely." She smiled.
Hermione's cheeks tinted red. "Thank you." She fiddled with her hair for a moment. "What… What was on those brushes? My hair hasn't been this smooth since I was a child!" She found herself gushing like a teenage girl again.
Arwen chuckled. "It's a conditioning salve. I wasn't sure if your hair was so dry and coarse due to however you ended up in the woods or not, so I made sure to give you the brushes with the salve-dipped bristles. I apologize if it has upset you."
"No!" The witch exclaimed, shaking her hands out of her hair. "Not at all! I think it looks amazing, I just wasn't expecting it, was all."
The elf relaxed, she had not wanted to upset Hermione, especially while she was still healing. "Would you like a tour of the gardens? It's on the way to the library and I thought you might enjoy a stroll and fresh air." She suggested.
The gesture made the young woman smile. "You know, that would be really nice." She nodded. "I appreciate it."
The elf held up a hand, waving away such formalities. "I know that if I were confined to a healing bed for days on end I'd want whatever small glimpse of leisure I could indulge in."
As they made their way down the corridor Hermione caught a glimpse of Elrond and Gandalf in another room. There was a small being on the bed, perhaps a child. She didn't think much of it, they had told her that she was in the Healing House, and it would make sense that she was not the only patient.
As they neared the end of the corridor she could hear water, perhaps from a fountain, that grew louder and louder as they approached the archway. Her eyes grew wide as the view of Rivendell unfolded before her.
Elaborate pathways led through intricately designed garden beds, the products of which filled the air with delicious earthly scents. Flowers and other perennials surrounded her, yellows and oranges and pinks and greens, the colors swirling around Hermione, engulfing her senses with their beauty. Fountains and benches were placed throughout the gardens, their stonework sparkling in the sunlight of morning. Vines crept up the walls of the surrounding buildings and archways, creating an illusion as to the buildings and gardens being one.
As they walked Hermione could see many elves working in the garden, attending to many different tasks. Some were harvesting the plants, picking vegetables and flowers to attribute to the feast planned at sun down, others tending to the plants, pruning and watering the greenery. Many noticed her and Lady Arwen walking along the paths, bowing as they passed.
Hermione didn't know what to make of the bowing. She understood, knowing Arwen's title as the Lord's daughter, why they would bow to her, but their eyes had been on the witch.
"Let us sit, we might not be noticed as much if we do so." She smiled, motioning to a bench that was a bit further out of view. "You must forgive our people for their curiosity. You are a newcomer whose healing has taken most of my father's attention."
She nodded her understanding as she listened to the elf. She brought up a good point and Hermione had to agree with her. She was a stranger in this land, and strangers mean curiosity. They knew as much of her as she knew of them.
"I do understand, and I hold no… ill will towards them." The witch thought carefully about the wording of her statement. She had quickly noticed that the speech here was more complex than she was used to. "I understand their intrigue."
Arwen smiled. This young woman seemed to be mature beyond her years, and that meant there was history there. Not many of the races of men were so mature at such a young age. Those that were had usually been exposed to evils that no youth should see. She looked up to see another pair of elves watching the two women conversing on the bench, whispering amongst themselves. "If you are still uncomfortable we could make our way towards the library."
Hermione nodded. "Yes please, I am very anxious to see it." Her cheeks tinted a slight shade of pink at the statement.
The two stood and began the rest of their walk. It was mostly in silence, Arwen not wanting to overwhelm her father's guest, and Hermione unsure of what to say.
As they reached the steps up to the Library the smell of faded parchment and ink filled the nose of the witch and she practically ran up the steps at the familiar smell. She walked under the archway and found herself standing at the outer ring of a basilica. The upper floor held many books and tomes, with a balcony around the walkway. The ground level where Hermione stood gaping with wonder held many more shelves of tomes and books, as well as scrolls of parchment. Maps and other paintings lined the walls, as well as Runes like she'd seen in the cave. She felt tears coming to her eyes as the sensation of a new library washed over her, stirring a memory of a bushy-haired little girl staring at the Hogwarts Library for the first time.
"This is amazing!" She gushed to Arwen before she could help it.
"I am glad that you approve." The two women turned to see Lord Elrond and Gandalf behind them. "This library has been expanding for many an age."
"Would you like some assistance?" Gandalf asked, his eyes twinkling. "We do not expect you to memorize all of the history of Middle-Earth; however we may be able to guide you to key texts and accounts."
Hermione nodded. "That would be nice, actually. I'd like to start with the war that stirred your mother's plea."
"I'll leave you to your research." Arwen smiled, laying a gentle hand on Hermione's shoulder. "I am here if you seek a friend."
Her eyes nearly glistened at the remark. She knew that before the week was over she'd need to seek out Arwen for just the purpose of talking to a friend. She smiled, nodding at the elf and squeezed her hand. "Thank you, Arwen. That means a great deal to me."
The elven woman smiled, turning to Elrond and Gandalf to nod before descending the steps.
As she stood before her elders Hermione took a deep breath. She was here to do what she does best. Learn.
"Well." She clapped her hands together eagerly, startling her audience. "Shall we get started?"
