First I must apologize for the delay. A few days after posting the last chapter I had to say goodbye to my beautiful grandmother as she left this world. She was an amazing woman and encouraged my creativity in whatever form I chose. I am not much of a faithful person but she was so I like to think she is in the heaven she believed in.

I have to say thank you to all my kind readers. Getting the notifications and emails got me out of this ... funk that grief had left me in. You all are my angels.

Please enjoy this chapter, it was a trip to write.

I still don't own HP or LOTR *double checks bank account* yep, no dice. I've also tweaked timelines a bit, especially since I don't own them I kinda feel like I can.

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While Rivendell awaited the reponses of Elronds invitations weeks had turned to months and Summer had begun to reach its end. The nights were becoming crisp, the dawn often encompassed by a rolling fog through the canyon. The leaves would begin to change soon, and with it the fate of Middle Earth.

Many had sent word that they would come to Imladris, but not with the haste that Elrond had hoped. Many would take weeks to arrive, or in some cases months. Hermione used this time to begin acculturating herself to Middle Earth, and the ways of its people.

The Masters of Rivendell had been quite impressed at the aptitude of their new student. Her will in both spirit and strength rivaled that of their own kind. If not immersed in the library's wonders Hermione was often found at the end of the archery range, her aim improving with each passing day. The Gyffindor found the bow a much more suitable weapon for herself than a sword, perhaps due to the skill of casting magic across distances rather than close combat.

Gandalf had travelled to the Shire, something about visiting an old friend. Hermione had, at first, been rather tense in the days following his departure. Arwen had noticed and offered to help in either her trainings or studys so she may not be so alone while the wizard was away. The witch appreciated the companionship, and often spent hours with the she-elf either exchanging stories or even minor training.

Glorfindel, at the behest of Galadriel, had arrived in Rivendell not more than a week after Elrond dispatched his riders. With him he had brought a bow and quiver made by the finest craftsman of Lothlorien for Hermione.

The gift had brought a great sense of pride to the witch. To be granted such an honor was not unnoticed by her, nor was it unappreciated. The carvings matched those of her wand and she made note that it must have been due to the Lady of Light's visionary prowess. The quiver contained arrows lighter than those she trained with, yet struck their targets with enough force to split posts.

She began to notice her physical appearance changing as well as her skills. She no longer required the salve brush Arwen had gifted her when she arrived. Her hair has become soft waves that reached the middle of her back, the color of golden honey. Weeks of training had toned her body to that more of an athlete than an academic and it proved fruitful to her new regime of sword fighting, archery and hand-to-hand combat. Even the cartilage atop her ears had begun to form points.The witch spent hours upon end honing her new skills, knowing full well she had much to learn and not very long to do so.

Unbeknownst to Hermione one afternoon immersed in her training; in the balcony above the courtyard Glorfindel and Lord Elrond watched the young witch as she practiced throwing Elven daggers.

"She is astonishing. Our Lady Galadriel had told me of her powers and skill, but to see it with my own eyes... I am awed." The Lothlorien commander looked to Elrond with a curious gaze. "Has her magic changed since coming to our world?"

The briar haired elf shook his head. "From Gandalf's accounts, and what I have seen, her Magic has only strengthened, however; she is cautious of those who see her use it. I believe she fears word of a new Istari may reach Sauron's forces and make her a target before she would even leave the valley."

Glorfindel nodded. "A wise strategy. You say she has already seen war and battle?"

"She faced a dark wizard in her youth. He had targeted a dear friend and she helped defeat him and his forces before she had reached adulthood." Elrond smiled at his friend's surprised expression. "I know, I had the same reaction. She is, as you said... astonishing."

"My Lords." The pair turned to see a young elf before them. "A message has arrived for you, from the morning scouts." He extended a small scroll, clearly sent by a hawk.

"Thank you." Hastily unfurling the parchment at the messengers retreat Elrond's face quickly reflected that of shock.

"Elrond. Friend what does it say?" Glorfindel looked quickly to make sure they were, indeed alone.

"A scout has observed a group of Nazgul in the Shire. They passed through Bree not three nights ago. They are tracking someone."

"Gandalf perhaps?" The Lord of Rivendell handed the scroll to his friend, bracing himself against the balcony railing.

"I am not sure. Glorfindel if Sauron has dispatched the wraiths... his power is growing, and quickly." His gaze travelled to the witch below as she pulled her daggers from their embedded places in her target. "You must return to Lothlorien, and make haste. Lady Galadriel must know."

The warrior nodded, reaching to grasp Elrond's forearm. "I will send word to you once I have arrived."

As Glorfindel left the elf standing alone felt a sense of dread sink into the deepest part of him. The evil of Mordor had never spread this far West in decades. Now there were wraiths within a weeks ride. Surely Gandalf would not allow himself to be tracked across the countryside.

Closing his eyes Elrond began to focus on events to come. The gift of foresight was never easy to control, he was not as powerful as Lady Galadriel in this regard. If he could just glimpse anything surrounding the Nazgul...

Suddenly a piercing scream filled the air and jolted him from his concentration. Looking to the courtyard he saw Hermione slumped against Arwen, her knees buckling beneath her. Turning swiftly he descended the stairway towards the pair. Kneeling beside them he helped his daughter lay the young woman on the grass who had begun thrashing against them. The witch was cold to the touch, her skin damp with sweat and her eyes glazed over. She was clutching her shoulder, gasping and sobbing.

"Aragorn!" She wailed, scrambling back away from the elves. "Strider, help!"

Father and daughter stared at each other in shock. Hermione had yet to meet the dunedain ranger, and they doubted she learned his alias among the library archives. The witch continued struggling against the unseen, Elrond beginning to murmur a sleeping spell in hopes to calm her.

The magic began to take hold but her inner magic retaliated, coursing through her veins; army facing an invasion. Her body began to glow, a blinding light emitting from her form.The yells grew louder, echoing along the valley walls as Hermione was quickly overcome with pain.

"Ada, help her!" Arwen cried, her eyes frantically searching her Father's expression for any sign that her new found friend would be alright.

The gaze the she-elf was met with was that of uncertainty and fear. For all his magic and wisdom he knew not how to help the writhing woman before him. Shaking his head the Lord of Imladris quickly pulled Hermione into his arms and ascended the stairs to the House of Healing. Elrond was delving deep into his inner knowledge of the healing arts. A sleeping spell should have eased the pain which tells him this is dark magic. The magic of Sauron.

Arwen was on his heels, circumventing her father as soon as they had reached a room. Clutching a basin with water and rushing back to their side she quickly wrung out a cloth. The moment Elrond had set a sobbing Hermione atop the sheets his daughter took her place on the bed, kneeling beside her friend, gently wiping her brow.

"Ada, her arm!" Arwen whispered, moving her hand away. From the collar of their ward's gown black tendrils flared across the pale skin of the woman. Moving the fabric away the elves could see the infection coursing through her body.

"Step away, my friend." The pair turned, in shock, to see a bloodied Gandalf struggling to cross the room. "I'm afraid this is beyond our power. Arwen you must ride now, as swift as the wind. Aragorn travels here with four hobbits. One of them carries the key to turning the tide of Mordor's shadow, and I fear he is tied to the fate of Hermione, now." Gandalf gasped weakly as he moved towards the bed with the aid of Lord Elrond. "They were on their way here from Bree, by my guess they must be past Weathertop."

"Gandalf, you are hurt, you must li-" The Elven Lord made his way towards the wizard.

"You can heal me when we save her, we need Athelas, now!" The wizard stumbled to the floor, kneeling against the bedframe. He quickly tore the gown away from her shoulder, ripping the garment knowing Hermione would not be modest in such a moment. A wound marred her skin, an angry gash deep in her flesh.

"Athelas? Poison? Gandalf she has been in the courtyard with Arwen all morning!" Elrond quickly opened the apothecary and pulled out the Kingsfoil ointment, handing over the jar. "Surely you do not believe she could not have been poisoned here amongst the elves!"

"I most certainly do not." The wizard whispered sadly. "I owe you an explanation my friend but now is not the time. We must do all we can for her or I fear we may lose our witch."

Closing his eyes Gandalf laid his hand on Hermione's shoulder, spreading the balm over her skin, the black tendrils becoming raised and angry. The light emitting from her form grew brighter, covering the room in a bathing light that blinded the two men for a moment. Her cries turned to wails as the pain seared every nerve in her body. Her blood became fire, her skin felt as though it would fall away.

In a flash she sat up and grasped Gandalf's arm with white knuckles, looking up in shock her mentor met her eyes, a brilliant amber staring back at him.

"They've found him, Gandalf. They found him. R-Riders." She gasped before another wave of pain overcame her and she fell back to the bed with one final scream before she slipped into darkness. The light faded and soon her chest rose with the steady beat of sleeping breaths.

"Does she mean the Nazgul, Gandalf? How could she know of the wraiths? I only received word myself, not but a moment ago." Elrond whispered, helping the old man from the bedside.

"I do not know. I only shared a few details of my venture to the Shire, and my purpose left aside entirely." As the pair made their way to an adjoining room the wizard sighed deeply.

"The one ring has been found, Elrond. One of the Hobbits in Aragorn's care has carried it from Bag End with the intent of meeting me here, in Rivendell. Though, Aragorn was not meant to guide them alone. I met with Saruman, after I had set Sam and Frodo on their way..."

Gandalf regaled his past few weeks to Elrond as Hermione remained in a state of slumber. With an attentive mind and a terrified heart the Elf Lord listened resolutely, silently. Not only were the Nazgul west of the Misty Mountain, but one of Middle Earths most respected figures had betrayed them all. Such events had not happened for many years, darkness so near to Imladris.

The elf stilled, his face pale and etched with anger. "Did he do this to you? Has he truly turned to such evil?"

"Turned and aligned as though he had never been a member of my order!" The wizard growled, his anger boiling to the surface. "He imprisoned me in Orthanc like a dog, beat me to tell him what he wanted to know but I refused. I was only just rescued by Gwahir in time. If the message had not reached the great eagles I would surely be no more, or worse."

"How does this affect Hermione? She has not met the Hobbits or Aragorn. Lady Granger was training in the courtyard before she was overcome by some unseen force, calling out for Strider. She called him Strider, Gabdalf! How could she know that name?" He gathered a fresh basin and cloth for the wizard, sighing as he set them before his friend. "The wound on her shoulder. That looks Morgal, Gandalf. I have not healed such a wound for many hundreds of years. That magic is... was gone. Cast out from the world. I... I'm no longer sure of my ability to aid her."

The wizard nodded, rubbing his face tiredly. "I fear she is tied to the one who carries the ring. If so, and I hope to be wrong, then something terrible has become of Frodo. He may be in a similar state, Hermione is a very powerful witch; she'd have more protection against the dark magicks of this world. I fear that the only help Hermione can receive is her own. We must allow her to rest and wait for the council. They will be arriving any day now, I imagine. It is imperative that Arwen reach Aragorn and the hobbits before the Nazgul. If they fall into the hands of the enemy… we would be doomed" A sad smile crossed his face. "Forgive me for sending Arwen into the fray of this but she is your fastest rider and I trust her as I do you."

Elrond nodded. "I understand, my friend. Arwen will make it back in time, I am sure. For now you need to rest. The Hobbits are at least 3 days walk from here. We must be ready for their arrival." The elf stood, brushing his hair from a tired brow.

"And Aragorn?" Gandalf inquired. "Are you ready for his arrival?"

The Istari saw his friends shoulders stiffen slightly. "I made a promise long ago. He would always be welcome amongst the elves. It is he, and he alone, who has chosen a life on the run. A life in exile."

"Perhaps he feels exile is better than disdain."

The elf turned sharply towards the wizard, his mouth open with a retort that was abruptly extinguished.

"You can not deny what one has seen with their own eyes, not for all the magic of the elves." Standing wearily Gandalf continued. "Make your peace with the man who holds your child's heart, Elrond. We need him now more than ever."

He brushed past Elrond, stopping only to view the witch, assuring she was still asleep, before painfully trudging to his quarters. The wizard's words echoed in the realms of the elf's mind. He held no disdain for Aragorn, not as himself. It was Men. Men who, in their fleeting lives, act on impulse and emotion, leaving logic to the wind. It was how all Men had been, how they would forever be.

Stepping lightly he entered Hermione's room, noting the sweat that was dripping off her form. His brow furrowed in confusion. The window above her bed was open, a cool autumn breeze fluttering the drapes, surely the draft was felt. Placing The back of his hand against her skin he sighed sadly that she was still ice cold. The marks on her shoulder had begun to bubble beneath the balm, the poison being drawn from an invisible wound.

"Gandalf!" She cried quietly, not opening her eyes. He could tell the plea was not entirely her own.

"Sleep, child. You must rest." He smoothed the hair away from her temple, reapplying a fresh damp cloth to her skin. He left the room silently, wanting to not disturb her. He left word with another healer to find him should she awaken, leaving the poor girl to her slumber.

His steps echoed in the corridors and deep in his mind as he made his way to the hidden balcony behind the falls. This secluded refuge had been utilized as a study, a reprieve, his place of comfort. Along one wall carved from the rockface was a simple mirror. Framed in silver leaves the ornament caught the fading light and flickered it across the floor in shards of color.

He approached the mirror, his eyes swimming in their own reflection. He whispered low in Elven, watching the glass intently before the image before him faded away. Soon a woman stepped into view. Her skin pale as a dogwood petal and her hair as light as the moonbeams themselves, she stared back at Elrond with a benevolent gaze.

"It has been many ages since you have used the mirror. What has happened, Elrond? I know Glorfindel has already crossed your borders and is returning to the Wood." She cocked her head slightly, knowingly. "It is the witch."

Elrond nodded. "The power of Sauron has beenfound; My Lady, and I fear she is tied to the Hobbit who carries the One Ring across the Wild Lands to Imladris. The Nazgul have been seen in our midst and Gandalf tells me that Saruman has betrayed us all." He looked to the Elven Queen in desperation.

"There is no doubt that troublesome days are to come. We have no choice but to unite and face them." Galadriel stared intensely at the father of her grandchildren. "Calling forth a council is but the first step in halting the growing shadow in the East. There is no course to be altered, Elrond. The ring has awoken and Sauron will stop at nothing to regain it. We must all stop at nothing to ensure he never returns to power."

The Lord of Imladris paced before the mirror, his hands shaking. "I know all of this, my lady. What plan could we have against the dark Lord? How am I to unite us?"

"Perhaps..." She smiled a soft, yet beaming smile. "It is not you who must unite them."

"Then who? Who could bring bitter enemies together after generations of resentment and ill placed anger?" He sighed.

"The Lady healing in your house. It is possible she may be key to more than we know."

His steps ceased at the statement. "Of course. I was wrong to suggest she not attend due to her being a woman, that is the change the peoples of this world need to see."

"You told her not to attend?" The queen in the mirror arched her perfect brow. "I am a woman yet I am present at all councils and gatherings of our people. Do you suggest her power is less, due to being a woman?"

"O-Of course not my lady, but even you must admit that the Elves are enlightened beyond those of others in Middle Earth." Elrond sighed. "You are right, of course. I was wrong to suggest it. She denied she would be barred, anyways, so the point is irregardable."

At this the Lady of the Wood smiled. "She is spirited. Do not try to hinder her for she may be key to saving us all."

Hermione's eyes opened to blinding light and her muscles screamed in protest as she brought her hands to shield her face. The sounds of birds and passing guards greeted her ears. A clinking of cutlery made her head jerk towards the sound, a groan escaping her. She saw Arwen sitting at the small table in the corner of the room, a small cup of tea before her. When the elf noticed her companion was awake she hurried to her side.

"You're awake!" She smiled broadly. "I was worried, father and Gandalf said you were incredibly weak and that time would tell."

The witch tried to reply but found her throat was dry. She gestured for the cup at her bedside, relieved Arwen understood immediately. "You must be tired, but would you like me to tell them you've awakened?" The she-elf offered.

Hermione shook her head, holding the cup in her hands. "I am sure they will be by soon enough, they needn't be bothered, I suppose. How long was I asleep?"

"Three days. I have only returned last night."

She turned to her friend, shock on her face. "Three days?! What happened? I remember training with you and... then..." She stopped, her brain struggling to remember the events.

"You were overcome by magic. Ada said he would explain everything once you were ready for visitors."

"Perhaps it would be wise for you to gather them. I thought... I thought I had simply fainted." Hermione whispered.

Nodding slightly Arwen squeezed her hand before leaving the room. The hands holding her cup trembled as she attempted to remember what happened to her. Flashes crossed her mind of hooded figures, stone ruins, a man with a torch and a sword holding the creatures at bay whilst four... children? No... not children. Hobbits! She'd read of them, the people of the Shire. They'd huddled against the ruins. One of them was hurt, blood soaking his vest at the shoulder.

Then she realized she was bandaged. The same shoulder. She touched the dressing gingerly, the wound beneath flaring from the pressure.

"You may want to wait until Lord Elrond can examine you, my Lady." Looking up at the doorway Hermione saw the man from her memory, the one with the Hobbits. "My name is Aragorn, Arwen asked I stay with you while she found Lord Elrond."

"You were with the Hobbits... You saved them. How do I know that?" She seemed unsure of the words as she spoke, the memories causing her temple to throb. "Forgive me... I am not feeling quite like myself at the moment."

He nodded silently, moving to sit at the same small table Arwen had sat. If he questioned how she knew of the attack he did not show it. "I am sure, my Lady. You've been under the healer's care for days, now."

Hermione took another sip of water, the refreshing liquid helping clear her foggy mind. "I am having trouble remembering what has happened." She watched him carefully, and he returned the gaze. She noted his armor, heavily worn and clearly battle tested. His cloak was torn in places and dried blood confirmed the theory that he'd seen conflict recently. "You are a Ranger of the North, aren't you? A dunedain?"

His head quirked in surprise. "I am. Forgive me, if my memory serves me we have not met before. There are few who can recognize a Ranger so quickly."

Smiling she looked at her lap shyly. "I have read of your kind. Protectors of the North, graced with long life."

"Ah." He chuckled. "Gandalf did mention you were an apt scholar. Even for one as young as yourself."

Hermione laughed at the polite comment. "He would call me scholar, wouldn't he? Gandalf has known me since I was very young. He encouraged my studies while other children teased me for it."

"Gandalf has always been able to see the best in others, even if they did not see it themselves..." He trailed off the thought, his eyes becoming briefly distant before shaking his head. "Arwen tells me you've been training with her. She said you were gifted a Lothlorien bow, a grand gift."

Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear she nodded, blushing. "I am still not sure it was a gift of which I, in particular, am worthy but I do cherish it."

"Lady Galadriel would not have granted such a gift if she did not believe you were worthy, my dear." The pair looked to see Gandalf at the doorway, leaning against his staff.

"Gandalf, it is good to see you." Aragorn stood, reaching his hand forward to grip the wizards forearm. "When you did not meet us I feared the worst."

Nodding the old man gripped the rangers arm similarly. "I must thank you for completing the task nonetheless. I see you have met young Hermione."

The Ranger smiled. "We were discussing her training with Lady Arwen."

"Ah yes, I do believe that there is no field of Study that Hermione can not master, battle tactics included." The wizard smiled, moving into the room. He settled himself at the foot of Hermione's bed, the young witch adjusting herself to allow him to sit. "How are you feeling? You gave us a bit of a scare."

"I am feeling much better, thank you. Though..." She shifted slightly. "To be honest, Gandalf, I am still not sure what happened."

"I will take my leave, if you wish, my Lady." Aragorn offered politely.

"I don't think that will be necessary... I remember seeing you, what happened... it might have something to do with you." She gestured for him to resume his seat at the small table. Once he had sat she continued. "I remember the courtyard, Arwen was teaching me to have better form with my bow. The next thing I remember is pain, blinding pain. My shoulder felt like I was being stabbed with a white hot poker. I felt magic, Gandalf. Dark magic. It coursed through me faster than I could counter it."

"Gandalf... That is the same wound Frodo suffered." Aragorn breathed. "How is that possible, for her and the Hobbit to be afflicted by the same attack?"

Sighing Gandalf shook his head. "I do not know. The dark magic, Morgal magic, is ancient and it's mysteries still remain unknown. Somehow you are connected to Frodo."

At the word 'Morgal' Hermione's brain began cycling through facts and lore in an instant. Sauron used that magic. Used it to enslave many to his cause.

"No." She whispered. "Not to Frodo." The men looked at her curiously. "Tied to what he carries and the magic it holds."

Gandalf nodded. "I hope you are wrong, Miss Granger, though I have learned not to doubt your intellect"

"Is he alright? Frodo?" She asked. "My magic may have protected me but what of him? From what I have read Hobbits are not a magically inclined folk."

"Indeed, they are not." The wizard agreed. "He is resting now. Elrond was able to heal him, as he has you. Though Frodo will carry his wound the rest of his life."

Hermione closed her eyes at the statement. To feel that pain for the rest of his days was a fate she wouldn't wish on the lowest Slytherin. Thinking quickly she swung her legs over the bed, steadying herself before placing her feet gingerly to the floor.

"I have an idea, I need my wand."

"Wand? You are an Istari?" Aragorn asked, moving forward to help her to stand. "But you are so... young!"

Gandalf laughed heartily at his old friend's observation. "Do not be quick to dismiss, she will surprise you as she has all of us." He stood as well, fetching Hermione's wand from her belongings in the cupboard. Handing it to the witch he smiled at her content sigh of reunion.

Making their way into the corridor the trio ventured down to a larger room at the end of the wing. Aragorn let Hermione use his arm for balance, guiding her On their way. Crossing the archway they found the room's occupant sat on the bed: a small form, the size of a child.

"Frodo, there is someone I would like you to meet." Gandalf made their presence known, the Hobbit turning at the familiar voice.

"This is Lady Hermione. She is a friend." The witch smiled kindly at the small man. "She wished to see you, and offer her assistance with your healing."

The Hobbit smiled back. "It is nice to meet you my lady. I am Frodo Baggins of the Shire." His brow furrowed. "Lord Elrond said he has done all he can to aid my mending. I did not think more could be done."

"I'd simply like to try." Hermione offered. "I would like to help you with my magic, if I can."

He looked shocked for a moment. "Magic? Like Gandalf?"

The old wizard chuckled heartily. "In a way, Frodo. In a way."

Aragorn guided Hermione over to the bed. She sat gently, her muscles still aching from the days in bed.

"I can not promise you this will work, Frodo. I also know you have no reason to trust me other than Gandalf's word. But I'd like to help, if I can."

The Hobbit eyed her carefully, his blue eyes searching hers. He nodded slightly, almost imperceptibly.

Taking a steadying breath Hermione pointed her wand at the wound on his shoulder. "Vulnera Sanentur." She whispered, a faint glow encompassing the pair.

Gandalf's jaw dropped at the spell. Of course. A counter curse, not a healing spell.

The moment her magic met the wound both her and the Hobbit began to shake; the suspicion of their wounds being linked confirmed. Before their very eyes the black tendrils began to retreat towards the wound, the dressings becoming thick and heavy with a black mucilage.

Thinking quickly Gandalf carefully removed the dressing from Hermione's shoulder, Aragorn doing the same for the Hobbit. The poison was rapidly leaving their wounds, running down their skin. Throwing the gauze to the floor Gandalf muttered something and their burst into flames, emitting a rancid smoke.

Soon the glow from Hermione's wand faded as their wounds became no more than faded scars. Gandalf wiped the remaining ooze from her skin, now free of the ailment.

"Full of wonder, you are my dear. In all my years I would have not come to the conclusion of a counter curse."

"Harry told me of it. A powerful counter curse to a shockingly dark spell." She whispered sadly, rubbing at her shoulder. "Frodo, are you alright?"

The Hobbit was staring at her in awe. "The pain! It's gone." Without thinking he threw his arms around her neck. "Thank you!" He smiled.

Recovering from the unexpected embrace the Witch smiled broadly. "You are welcome. You must let me know immediately if it begins to hurt you again."

The little man nodded into her shoulder.

Smiling at the two Gandalf sensed they had been joined. Turning he saw Lord Elrond standing in the doorway looking relieved.

"It seems my wards have healed themselves." He smiled.

Frodo and Hermione turned to the elf. "I thought it would be worth a try. Most counter curses have no I'll effect on their targets if it can't counter the magic." She explained.

"Your knowledge is well beyond your years, indeed. I'm grateful for the assumption." The Elven Lord nodded before turning to the wizard. "They are arriving."

"The council?" Hermione asked excitedly, standing from the bed. Aragorn was at her side instantly, lending an arm. "I'd like to go to my room and get ready, if you all will excuse me."

"I'll find you in the courtyard?" The Ranger asked Gandalf as the passed, the wizard nodding his affirmation. The pair departed leaving the Hobbit with the two elders.

"What council?" Frodo asked.

Gandalf and Elrond decended the stairs into the courtyard that now held bannermen and dignitaries from all the kingdoms and realms of Middle Earth. Dwarves from the halls of Erebor stood furthest from the other groups, especially those of the Mirkwood Elves. There were two distinct banners which were held by the kingdom's of Men. The White Tree of Gondor and the Stallions of Edoras.

The wizard was surprised not to see the Eldest son of Gondor's Steward. Boromir, son of Denethor stood before a small party of Citadel Guard. The warrior stood confidently, assessing the others gathered with him in silence.

The Edoras company, however, did cause him concern. He had expected Theoden, King of Rohan, or perhaps his heir, Theodred. Instead he was greeted by the sight of Eomer, the Third Marshall of the Riddermark. When the horse-lord felt the gaze of the Wizard he turned, a solemn look etched in his dark hazel eyes. He sidestepped his companions carefully, joining the Istari at the bottom of the steps.

"My lord, Eomer, I must say I am surprised to see you and not one of your kinsman." The wizard shook his hand in greeting.

"Gandalf, I have an urgent matter to discuss..." His sentence stopped as his gaze was drawn upwards to the top of the staircase. Gandalf followed his gaze, as all the dignitaries had turned to see as well.

Hermione stood at the top, joined by Arwen and Aragorn. The Ranger helped her descend the steps, the she-elf moving to join her father. The witch had chosen a pale blue gown that reminded Gandalf of the dress robes she had worn to the Yule Ball in her youth which drew similar attention to the young woman. The pair joined the wizard, the stares of the others gathered with him ignored, for now. Hermione had noted the stare of Gandalf's handsome companion.

"My lady, it is good to see you are feeling better." Gandalf smiled, patting her arm gently. "Thank you, my friend." He nodded at Aragorn who bowed his head slightly before going to greet the Mirkwood Elves. The wizard noted the gaze between the two.

"Lord Eomer, may I introduce you to Lady Hermione. She is an old friend and currently Lord Elrond's guest." He turned to the young woman. "He is a Marshall of the Riddermark, the Calvary of Rohan."

The horse-lord still stared openly at her for a moment before composing himself.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Hermione." He held out his hand which she accepted. He brought the back of her hand to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on her knuckles. Hermione's cheeks flared with a schoolgirl's blush which was not unnoticed by the wizard. "I did not realize Gandalf had such lovely friends. I assumed they were all as surly as he is."

She smiled at the sentiment. "You are too kind, my Lord." She dropped her hand politely to her side, Eomer smiling at her.

"Friends, I do believe we should make our way to the meeting chamber." Lord Elrond's voice carried across the courtyard. Hermione excused herself from the pair, joining the others as they ascended the stairs, turning once to look back at the two men.

Gandalf moved to follow but Eomer stopped him. "I will be brief, but this is urgent and must be said before this meeting." Hermione saw this and ducked behind a pillar at the top of the staircase. The horse-lord intrigued her and she wasn't sure why.

The wizard arched his brow. "Oh?"

"Saruman has infiltrated the Golden Hall. He has sent his serf, Wormtongue to act as council to my Uncle. He has poisoned his mind, Gandalf. My Uncle... I believe he is cursed." Eomer looked pained as he admitted to Gandalf, "I am unsure of what to do."

Closing his eyes at the news Gandalf sighed. "You are right this is urgent... if what you say is true and Theoden is, in fact, cursed then it confirms Saruman's treachery. Perhaps you should not attend this council."

Eomer looked offended at first before the wizard shook his head, stopping any rebuttal. Hermione eyed the two curiously.

"The less you know of the meeting, the less chance for you to become a target of Saruman." Gandalf leaned closer to whisper to the horse-lord. "I will explain more after the council. I need you to trust me, Eomer."

He stared carefully at the wizard, knowing Gandalf would not suggest his absence from something so important if it wasn't something he saw necessary. "Alright, Gandalf. I will trust you on this. But I need to know if you feel there is any hope to save my uncle."

"There is." Hermione made her presence known. "Gandalf is right, from what you've said it is best for us to protect you from Saruman's reach as much as we can."

"We?" Eomer chuckled. "Forgive me, my lady, but what do you know of fighting dark wizards?"

Gandalf closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose at the remark. Smiling stiffly Hermione looked down at the riders boots and whispered. "Tarantallegra."

Eomer let out a rather high pitched yell as his feet began dancing on their own accord beneath him. He looked between the two in shock. "You're a..." He gasped. "A..."

"Witch." She supplied for him as he was clearly having trouble speaking while exerting himself so much, albeit unwillingly.

"My dear, please. Before he hurts himself." Gandalf whispered. "Or someone else sees."

Nodding her understanding Hermione mumbled the counter charm and Eomer fell to his knees. "I may be a woman, my Lord, but do not mistake me for being just a woman of the court." She held her hand out and helped him back to his feet.

"Never again, my Lady." He grinned at her, awe in his eyes.

"We must join the others, Hermione." Gandalf turned back to Eomer. "Meet us afterwards, the gardens." He held his arm for Hermione and the two ascended the stairs.

"My lady?" She turned back to the horseman. "The others may make the same assumption of you that I did."

"I'll prove them wrong, my Lord. It worked with you, did it not?" She winked at him before continuing on with Gandalf to the waiting council. Hermione sensed her companions gaze as they walked down a corridor. "Not a word." She smiled as they approached their destination.

"I have no idea to what you are referring. Though I do believe Ginny would have been impressed."

She felt confident as the wizard escorted her into the room. She could do this.

Eomer had been right, however. The moment she stepped through the archway the room erupted in objections and demands as to why a woman was in their presence.

She closed her eyes and sighed. This was going to be a long day.