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Hello everyone! Thank you so much for all the reviews, follows and favorites, I can't properly express what they all mean to me. To share my nerdery with all of you lovely people is truly an honor.
I still don't own any content or monetary rights to the Harry Potter universe, Lord of the Rings universe, or any property of New Line Cinema... I think that's all of em...Again, yes I'm again using lines of dialogue from the script, it tends to help me flow my chapters and time management. Still don't belong to me, just borrowing them.
As I've said before I will be tweaking timelines slightly, only as to fit to this story. I mean it is an AU/Crossover, so some tweaks are to be expected. I hope you enjoy this next chapter.
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It was raining in London, as it always was. The days were encompassed in a smothering mist that smelled of exhaust and garbage bins. Commuters and school children passed each other on the sidewalks, their attentions pulled elsewhere as they passed a small cafe window. A lone man sat at a small table inside. His stare pulled through the crowd, searching. Curly hair. Brown eyes.
Harry Potter spent most his days this way. Hermione Granger had been missing for 3 months, last seen by a Norwegian Squib deep in the mountains of the Northern Country. The Det Norske Magidepartementet had contacted Kingsley and the Aurors immediately, sending Filip with everything they had recorded in the cave. Ron openly wept as the video had played, Hermione's screams echoing in the Minister's office.
Harry had become withdrawn in the days following the news. He'd watched the video hundreds of times, each time breaking his heart to see his sister in so much pain. Why hadn't he sent an Auror with her? He should have insisted. He should've done it anyways, even if it had meant lying to her. The boy who lived felt like the brother who failed. The Norwegian Ministry had insisted that their Healers had combed the cave and found no indication that Hermione was killed in the flames. No remains had been found, magical or... human.
Ginny had been very supportive of her husband and her brother when the news broke, ensuring them both that everything that could*be done was being done. Mrs. Weasley had taken it upon herself to floo in everyday to check on her boys, cleaning up and cooking as she went along. Kingsley had traveled to Trondheim immediately, investigating for weeks with Maiken. When he returned it had been decided that Hermione Granger would be declared Missing.
As he had everyday since the Minister's return Harry spent his lunch at Hermione's favorite bistro. She had dragged Harry and Ron to the muggle spot nearly once a week, calling it their 'spot'. If she were to come back, maybe she would come here first. Somewhere familiar. That had been his logic, at first. Now it simply served as a place of quiet and disassociation, even if only for a moment.
"Hey, mate." He looked up from the window to see Ron and Luna Weasley approaching the table, their coats still damp from the rain. The couple had gotten married despite the absent Maid of Honor. Hermione's picture stood beside Luna through the ceremony and the bride shared her favorite memories of the witch in tribute. If anything the moment added a sense of normalcy, this new reality without Hermione.
The couple sat across from the raven haired man, both looking as forlorn as their friend. Not much joy was to be found in their lives. Yes, their friends were getting married, starting families; all things that were to be celebrated felt... empty. Someone important was absent and her friends were left feeling the vacancy.
"How are things at work, Harry?" Luna asked, her voice as dreamy as when they were children.
"About the same, really." He sighed, stirring his tea. "Not many Death Eaters left, mostly dealing with teens dabbling with magic they shouldn't these days."
Ron snorted in reply, just as the server brought over two menus and water. He smiled sheepishly as the man raised an eyebrow at the noise. "Thanks, mate. I'll have a meat pie and chips. You ready, love?"
"I'll have your daily soup, please." She smiled politely.
Harry's gaze wandered toward the window again, his friend's orders barely registering in his ears. This was his life now. Hermione and Ron had been there for him through everything and now they were unbalanced and incomplete. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a worn piece of parchment. The etching of the Cave Runes stared back at him, haunting him. The image was already stamped on his psyche, tormenting him daily, the picture wasn't needed as an aid anymore.
"You're gonna drive yourself mad, mate." Ron whispered, reaching over and grasping his shoulders. "I don't think those markings are gonna do anymore good now."
Their main goal, at first was to try to translate the runes. Without Hermione, the world renowned Runeologist, the task proved pointless.
Harry knew he was right. He had spent hours looking at those markings, never seeing anything new with reexmination. He sighed, tossing the paper on the table. "I hate this not knowing, Ron. I've always known what I was going up against. Death Eaters, Vampires, sure. But how do you go up against Stone? I know two things about those carvings, only two! That, one, they are old, and two, they took Hermione." He laughed, a weak chuckle. "Hermione was kidnapped by bloody words."
"I think I might know what that says." Luna whispered, staring at the upside down parchment with her big curious eyes. "May I see it? Unless I can't for Auror reasons?"
The men gaped, slack jawed at the newlywed Weasley. This was, as far as Harry knew, the only time she had seen it. Since it had been part of the official investigation he hadn't even shown Ginny. He had learned to take Luna's knowedge of the fantastical at face value, nargles and all.
Ron turned the parchment over to his wife, watching her with a proud smile. "Really?! Give it a try, love." She carefully reached for the scrap, handling it gently.
"Take... no, Send. That word is send... your finest to the... center? No, that's not what that is... hmm." She followed the markings with her finger, silently mouthing the words as she pointed. "Middle-Earth, that's what that says. Send your finest to the Middle-Earth plains. I do know what this says!" She looked up at her husband, beaming. "I can read this!"
"Luna, are you sure?" Harry asked, his eyes glistening with tears. "What language is this?"
"I dont know what it's called but its how my Uncle Radagast writes all of his letters. I've only met him twice, and I always thought it was a secret language he and my father made, you know?" Luna smiled at her friend. "I can translate this' I have all of my father's letters at the loft."
Harry and Ron didn't need to be told twice. The three left before their food arrived, leaving more than enough money on the table for their bill. Ducking quickly into a nearby alley Harry cast a notice-me-not charm on the three as they apparated back to Ron and Luna's flat.
When they arrived in the sitting room Luna quickly dashed into her study, returning with a large stack of letters bound by a thick leather strap. "He wrote us every summer holiday. He always wrote about the most mystical forests and creatures, I always thought they were stories."
She unfastened the strap and began thumbing through the pages. "Where's the one with... Aha!" She held out for Ron to grasp. Once he had hold of the parchment he began laughing hysterically, showing it to Harry with shaking hands. Written out on the page was a simple hand drawn abc translation of the runes that had terrorized them for months.
He rushed forward and hugged Luna, spinning her around. "Luna you are amazing, bloody brilliant! You had the answer in that beautiful head of yours this whole time!" He grabbed a quill from the table, writing the letters to each line on his worn parchment, his answer before him in less than five minutes.
When his answer lay before him he had more questions than answers. "it says: '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'... Where is 'Middle-Earth'?"
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The Fellowship turned South East of Rivendell, along the base of the Misty Mountains. Gandalf and Aragorn had decided the best route prior to leaving the city of the Elves, wanting to keep their travel path private. The less who knew where they might be at a given time, the better. The hills rolled beneath Hermione's feet as she walked alongside the Hobbits. Aragorn and Legolas had gone ahead slightly, scouting the path. Their goal was to make for the Gap of Rohan, even though it risked passing close to Isengard.
The Hobbits adjusted quickly to their new life on the road. Merry and Pippin occasionally would gripe about their growling stomachs or the heat, dramatically fanning themselves after walking anything more than an hour straight. Sam would constantly take account of inventory after any meal stops they made along the way, keeping a small written journal in his bag. Hermione made note of this, impressed by the Gardener's organization. The Ring-bearer was silent most of the journey, standing with one or the other Istari in their group. He kept his sights on the horizon, always watching the East.
Hermione was worried for Frodo, this kind of burden of dark magic is not unfamiliar to her. Thoughts of Slytherin's locket brought back memories of a gnawing internal shadow, eroding away the mental will in a battle for submission. He was brave, that was not to be argued. She had shared the concern with Gandalf, barely after breaching the canyon walls outside Imladris.
"Frodo comes from a stout line of Hobbits, Baggins' are hearty folk, Hermione. Bilbo carried the ring for over fifty years." Gandalf had said, looking ahead at the Hobbit walking alongside Sam and the pony, Bill.
"Hearty or not, Gandalf, this magic is beyond dark, it is pure evil. How long will this journey take, by your guess?" She asked.
"I wish that was an easy answer, my dear." The wizard sighed. "If all goes swimmingly and we are only met with allies, no foes in sight, we might reach the Black Gate in, oh... three or fourth month's time."
"Do you truly believe we can account for this quest to go 'swimmingly'?" She laughed slightly. "I missed your optimism, sometimes headmaster, but I can't say this is one of those times."
"Then, I suppose you have your answer: At least four more months. But I'd account for seeing many more moons than that on our road."
She knew he was right, there were going to be setbacks in their travels. It was inevitable on an endeavor of this design. The fate of this world was in the balance and there were always going to be those against them, fighting every step of the way. If she was accounting for an almost absolute worst case scenario this journey would probably take the better part of a year. Sheer distance played the biggest factor, along with the size of their band. That was a long time to be trapped with a force as powerful as the ring.
By the fifth day a good pace had been set, the group was nearing the Glanduin river where they would cross and continue South. Hermione had cast anti-blistering charms on everyone's boots the first night when she took watch with Aragorn. The ranger had watched her with a smile, it was a simple act of magic, one his feet were grateful for.
They decided to make camp for the night, if they'd kept their pace they would have reached the river by nightfall, a dangerous time to attempt a crossing. Legolas had found a small clearing near a grove of trees, most likely an old hunting party camp. Plenty of boulders offered shelter and concealment, while there were plenty of good watch positions around them. Sam quickly prepared a fire, unloading the pots and pans needed to prepare another delicious stew, no doubt. The witch enjoyed his cooking, which could rival that of the Weasley Matron. As the others made their bedrolls in the ring of trees Hermione unsaddled Bill, leading him over to a small creek for some fresh water.
The trickling stream sounded quite calming to her as she brushed the pony's back, clearing off the saddle dust. There was a slight breeze along the base of the Mountains, whistling lightly through the trees, the chill of the approaching dusk. Hermione wondered if Eomer had stopped here on his ride home to Rohan. Looking down at the small bracelet she smiled, hoping the Rider made it home safe.
Bill's ears perked up and she turned quickly, her wand drawn.
"Please, I did not mean to startle you!" Boromir stood before her, hands up slightly. He looked nervous, taking a long breath. "I only wanted to... I must apologize to you for my behavior in Rivendell, my lady. I treated you with disrespect and have a duty to make amends."
Hermione couldn't help her mouth opening in shock. "You want to apologize? To me?"
"Well, yes... of course." The knight raised a brow in confusion. "I cannot deny my actions were reprehensible and I am ashamed of it. If you hadn't been worthy you would not have been amongst us, I see that now."
She didn't know what to say. "I must say, Captain, I'm a little caught off-guard. This is unexpected, to say the least." Reaching over and tying off Bill's lead she sat across from the knight, indicating he do the same on a nearby log.
"As much as I might have... disagreed with your words at the Council, I do understand. It is a difference in culture, if you will." Hermione looked and the man before her, still seeing his shame etched in his face. "I accept your apology and ask only one thing in return: let my actions on this journey decide your opinion of me, not my magic."
"What do you mean, my lady?" He asked, surprised. "Your magic is quite powerful, I imagine your skill with it will only impress, as Gandalf does."
The witch shook her head. "I'm asking you to judge me on my character, Boromir. My morals, my choices, my temper; these are the things I want to define me."
"I understand, completely, my lady. I've often told my men before that their choice to not swing their blade is just as critical as when they do." Once again Hermione was surprised.
"I may have to admit that I, too, misjudged you." She chuckled. "Perhaps you aren't just a dull soldier. Also please no more of the 'my lady's. It's bad enough trying to get the halflings to stop. Call me Hermione, just my name will do fine."
The Captain of Gondor nodded, smiling at the witch. She quickly learned that he was a brilliant strategist, his battle plans having been the key to ascending the ranks of the Gondor army. His brother had joined the Rangers of Ithilien just before he departed for Rivendell. He sounded quite proud of his sibling as he described his love of learning, joking of him being the scholar of the family. She told him of her own brothers, Harry's penchant for disaster and Ron's appetite providing plenty of anecdotes to share. She told him many things, of being a child in the expansive castle halls to being on the run, hiding for her life from a madman. There were several times Boromir looked livid at the terrors she described, wondering how any man could allow children to suffer by his hand.
"I respect your candor, Hermione." He said, standing from the log. He went over and untied Bill, moving to take him back towards camp. "We should return, I believe I can smell the halfling's stew."
"I do believe you're right, Captain." Hermione stood, tucking her wand back up her sleeve, making her way back to the campsite with him.
The pair returned, leading Bill over to a makeshift stable that had been strung up at Sam's request. Boromir sat near the halflings, earning a wary gaze from Aragorn as the witch sat down beside him.
"Are you all right?" The Ranger asked, handing her a bowl of stew.
She nodded, taking a sip of the steaming broth. "Boromir actually apologized. Said he had to make amends for reprehensible behavior. I admitted I may have misjudged him as well and we agreed to let our actions determine our opinions of one another. I was shocked." Hermione took a spoonful of dinner into her mouth, smiling. "Oh my goodness, this is delicious!"
Aragorn looked surprised at her words. Not a week past you'd have thought she had wanted to maim the man she was describing. "I'd assumed him too arrogant to admit his shortcomings, but I suppose these are strange times."
She nodded. Strange times, indeed.
The following morning produced clear skies with abundant sunshine. Sam had woken before the others, preparing the pans for a simple sausage and vegetable breakfast. Hermione woke to the smell of searing meat and stretched, her items already packed into her small bag. She watched for a moment as the others had begun packing their belongings, rolling their items into the saddle packs. When everyone had added their items to the saddle Hermione pointed her wand and cast the feather-light charm at all the bags, as she had every morning. She had agreed, however, to not magic the food or cookware in anyway, at the behest of Sam. He worried it would harm the flavor.
As the fellowship sat around, either eating or packing, Merry and Pippin had convinced Boromir to spar with them. At the same time, of course.
"Fair is fair." Merry had stated.
Aragorn sat near them, shouting tidbits of advice to them from between draws on his long Greenleaf pipe. Hermione barely registered Gimli's voice as she dished herself a small breakfast.
"... I would say that we are taking the long way round!" He said through bites of sausage at Gandalf, as Hermione sat down beside him. "Gandalf, we could go through the Mines of Moria. My cousin Balim would give us a royal welcome, I can promise you that!"
Hermione shivered at the statement, sensing something off about Gandalf's reaction. The wizard looked solemnly over at the dwarf, sighing. "No Gimli, I would not take the road through Moria unless I had no other choice."
As she continued eating she noticed a swift movement out of the corner of her eye. Legolas had rushed atop a rock at the edge of their camp, peering at a wispy shadow to the south of them. Setting down her plate she moved to join him, straining to see.
"What is it?" She asked. The elf shook his head in response, staring at the shape.
"Ahh!" Hermione jumped, turning sharply to see Boromir reaching down to say sorry to Pippin, having lightly struck him with the blunt edge of his blade. Sporting what could only be described as a pout, Pippin kicked the man, soon being joined by his cousin in the attack. Aragorn attempted to rescue the knight, only to be knocked down as well.
She turned back to Legolas, his gaze unmoved. Hermione frowned, something was wrong.
"What is that?" Sam had pointed to the same shape, having noticed the pair.
Gimli scoffed, taking another bite of meat. "Nothing, it's just a wisp of cloud!" He batted a hand at them, the worriers.
Boromir stood, helping Merry to his feet. "It's moving fast." He paused, turning to the Ranger. "Against the wind..."
Legolas put his hand on the witch's shoulder, nudging her back below the boulder. "Crebain from Dunland!" He shouted, jumping down as well.
They all hurried to hide any evidence of their camp. The fire was drenched, cloaks and bedrolls thrown into bushes or behind rocks as they all took cover where they could find it. Hermione ran to Bill, dragging the pony into the woods, casting a notice-me-not, focusing on encompassing her *and* the horse as hundred of crows suddenly swarmed overhead, circling the campsite. These were no wild birds. These were scouts, spies. The way they flew, with pattern and design, was no act of nature. Someone trained them.
Hermione could not see any of the others from her spot in the trees. The birds circled overhead several times before turning and flying south, from where they'd come just as quickly.
The companions all emerged from their hiding spots, looking to Gandalf and Legolas for answers.
"The passage South is being watched." The wizard gasped, leaning against his staff. Hermione's stomach dropped, they weren't expecting anyone to have an idea of their route. "We must take the Pass of Caradhras!" He pointed to the East, a snowy peak looming above them.
"Gandalf, that's a perilous task! We should continue South, staying beneath the tree cover." Aragorn countered.
"That trek would be difficult with the size of our party." Hermione admitted. Staring up at the peak she sighed. "But we may not have a choice."
Gimli snorted indignantly. "Of course, don't listen to the dwarf. I've only been suggesting Moria since we left the elves!"
"Moria would take days longer, Master Gimli." Gandalf stated sternly. "We will face the mountain." Hermione did not seem to accept the explanation but continued on.
By midday they had reached the snow line, the dirt paths giving way to sheet ice beneath the powder. The bite in the air was unforgiving, quickly producing flushed cheeks and ears. She charmed their hoods, at least providing some protection from the wind. The wizard led the group, Gimli and Legolas behind him, leading the Hobbits. Hermione and Boromir helped pull Bill up the pass, the stubborn pony trudging slowly through the snow.
Aragorn took up the rear, constantly looking back for fear of more crows. He knew they had to be spies of Saruman, only a spellcaster could command creatures that way. Every ounce of his intuition was telling him the Mountain would best them. A few men could make the trek, but their party neared a dozen. The snow drifted over the mountainside, exposing some rockface along their way.
"Ah!" His attention is pulled back to the group, seeing the rolling form of a halfling barreling toward him.
Steadying himself he braced for impact, grabbing Frodo before he could fall further down the peak. Brushing the hobbit off, he went to pull him along. He resisted, frantically pulling at his collar.
"It's gone! I've lost it!" Frodo yelled to the others who began scanning the ground for a glint of metal in the snow.
Hermione thought briefly about using *'Accio'* to summon the ring, but she was interrupted when Boromir pulled a sparkling silver chain from the path of the halfling's tumble. He held it up so he was staring at the gold band hanging from the necklace. He was fixated, staring at the trinket as he reached for it.
"Boromir!" Aragorn shouted, trying to pull his attention away.
"It is a strange fate that we should suffer so much fear and doubt over so small a thing." He turned the ring over in his gloved hand. "Such a little thing."
Hermione reached over, placing her hand gently on his arm. "Give the ring back to Frodo." She whispered. "It is not your burden to bear, you know that."
He looked over at her, a sadness in his eyes. He knew the ring was tempting him and he knew he was failing in his resistance. She could see the battle within, the choice the ring placed before him. This was not the man who she had sat with by the creek. Boromir was being tricked before her very eyes and she wasn't sure how to stop it.
"Boromir!" This time the Ranger got his attention. "Give the ring to Frodo."
The Captain smiled weakly, looking back at Hermione once more. "Of course." He whispered.
He carefully made his way down to the halfling, careful not to fall himself. He held the necklace out for Frodo who snatched it from his grasp. "As you wish, I care not."
He reached down and ruffled the halfling's hair, attempting to chuckle the incident away. Aragorn waited until he had turned away to pull his hand away from the hilt of his sword.
Hermione saw this, staring at the Ranger. It was clear now, Boromir was becoming a liability. He seemed weak willed against the call of the Ring. He showed it at the Council, and once more here in the wilds. She hung back, waiting to walk with Frodo and Aragorn.
"This bodes ill, Hermione." The ranger whispered. "If the ring can compromise one of us, who is to say who we can trust?"
"Don't." She whispered sternly. "If we turn against each other now then we will certainly fail. We watch each other's backs, even if we have to watch out for ourselves."
He nodded, wanting to believe her. If Boromir stepped out of line again, however, he'd be forced to act. Hermione knew this, it didn't need to be said. This wasn't him, it was the ring. The further East they traveled the stronger it's magic would become. She wouldn't let it cloud the minds of her companions.
The further they climbed up the mountainside, the harder the snow fell. Gandalf soon attempted to clear a path with his staff, the snow quickly becoming hip deep on the men. All the halflings had to be carried, the Captain bundling Merry and Pippin beneath his cloak while Aragorn had Frodo and Sam with him. Hermione had Bill's leads, thankful her calculation of a horse size dose of calming draught had worked.
Legolas, with his Elven light feet, stayed atop the berms, looking ahead as the path turned to a narrow strip along a cliff face. The wind whipped around his face, frozen rain biting at his fair skin. The wind was low, droning on as it carried along the mountainside. A hum resonated against the stone, like a song. As he listened he began to make out faint words. A man, he could make out a man's voice being carried with the snow.
"There's a fell voice on the air!" He shouted back to Gandalf.
The wizard stopped, listening intently to the wind, straining to hear the voice."... nai yarvaxea rasselya!"*
Then recognition hit him, just as a bolt of lightening struck a peak above their heads. "It's Saruman!" He yelled just as they all held themselves tight to the wall. The rocks came crashing down, missing them by mere inches.
"He's trying to bring down the mountain!" Aragorn called out to the wizard. "Gandalf! We must turn back!"
"No!" Gandalf shouted, pulling myself up atop the snow with Legolas. He carefully trudged to the edge, holding his staff high. "Losto Caradhras, sedho, hodo, nuitho i 'ruith!"
"Cuiva nwalca Carnirasse; Nai yarvaxea rasselya; taltuva notto-carinnar!" Hermione, too, could hear the voice now. The words carried with them an unnatural chill, deeper than any winter storm could produce. A great streak of lightning cracked down from the sky, striking above their heads.
"Protego!" She screamed, pointing her wand up just in time to halt the avalanche that was about to cascade down upon them, creating an ice cavern around them. The wind howled and screeched around them, breaking away bits of the ice built up against the ward. She dropped the spell, pushing the snow over the ledge and into the crevass below them.
"We must get off the mountain! Make for the Gap of Rohan and take the west road to my city!" Boromir struggled to keep the Hobbits wrapped beneath the cloaks, holding them close to him.
Shaking his head Aragorn disagreed. "The Gap of Rohan takes us too close to Isengard! We can't let the ring get that close to Saruman!"
"If we cannot pass over the mountain, let us go under it!" Gimli was barely above the snow, only his shoulders and head above the powder. "Let us go through the Mines of Moria! It would be a great deal warmer down below, you can't deny that!"
Gandalf gave a noted pause, Hermione could practically see him weighing the choice before them. For a moment the only sound was the wind, blowing unforgivingly past them. "Let the Ringbearer decide."
"What?" She yelled. "Gandalf what are we doing?"
Frodo looked confused and turned to Sam, who is only barely able shrug a response. Aragorn looked to Gandalf, wondering why the Istari would not make this decision himself.
"We cannot stay here!" Boromir was now holding Merry and Pippin as close as he could, looking frozen and scared. "This will be the death of the hobbits! They won't last the night up here!"
"Gandalf, just make the-" Hermione was cut off by the wizard.
"Frodo?" He asked firmly. She was shocked. Why wouldn't he make the choice? Unless... He had already made his choice. If they were to go beneath the mountain it would not be his decision.
The hobbit looked unsure of himself as he answered. "We... we will go through the Mines." Anywhere sounded better than the top of this brutal mountain. He couldn't handle the snow anymore. How bad could a mine be if it meant shelter from the snow.
Gandalf's shoulders slumped. "So be it." Frodo looked down, feeling as though he had disappointed the wizard. Hermione was fuming. She was beyond angry. He was hiding something about the mines, something she could only assume dangerous. As he approached her, moving to turn their party around, she stopped him.
"What aren't you telling us?" She grabbed his arm, forcing him to look at her, knowing the others could not hear her over the storm. Her cheeks were red with the chill and with her own anger. "What is down there?"
He shook his head. "If we are quiet and cautious, nothing." He replied.
