Hello all of my lovely readers! *waves like the nerd I am*The response I have gotten from all of you is phenomenal! I am so so so glad that you have all enjoyed what I have shared with you so far! I haven't decided yet if I will have this be 3 separate stories, following the LOTR trilogy or if I should just continue this as one story, thoughts? Let me know in your reviews, as my readers your input is extremely valuable to me. Now this chapter is a doozy, it's my longest yet, so I hope you enjoy.Sadly I still do not own Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings or New Line Cinema, I am merely borrowing the characters and the amazing worlds these Authors and Producers have created.

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Night had settled over the mountains by the time the fellowship had reached the valley floor. At their current rate they would still reach the entrance to the mines well before dawn. The air turned damp, a low stagnant mist surrounding the base of the mountain. As they walked along the witch in their company had strayed to the back of their group, deep in thought. Hermione Granger liked to believe herself to be a relatively positive person since the War. She led a happy life, present circumstances aside, and tried to allow very little negativity onto herself. But if there was anything she absolutely hated; it was being lied to. Gandalf the Grey was keeping something from her, something about the mines.

Even as Dumbledore he had used this tactic, as her and Harry had found out seventh year. If things were not leaning his way it seemed he would simply step aside until the tides had turned back toward his own favor. She had attempted occulemency, hoping to catch him off guard as they carefully traversed off the mountain. She couldn't quite make sense of what she was reading from him before he had brutally forced her from his mind.

Hermione had stumbled slightly, only to be caught by Aragorn.

"Are you alright?" He'd asked her, noticing she had been noticeably agitated since the Pass.

"Do you... I'm getting the feeling that Gandalf is hiding something." She confided in the Ranger. "Why did he make Frodo make the decision about going through Moria? It doesn't make sense, Aragorn. He would not make that decision himself, and I can't figure out why."

"You are not alone, I fear." He sighed, looking forward to barely make out the tall pointed shadow of the wizard ahead of them. "Gandalf is very wise, and I have come to trust him over many years of guidance and friendship. That said... I do believe there is cause of concern. Be on your guard, Hermione."

She hadn't let go of her wand after that. Soon the grassy terrain of the valley gave way to sharp shale rock and flowing shallow creeks. They were approaching the Glanduin, yet Moria was just north of the river. Hermione knew they had to be getting close.

They had been cautious once they reached the river's edge, keeping close to the shore. Aragorn knew there were goblins in these parts of the world, keeping to the damp refuge of the caves nearby. He kept his sights on the Hobbits, knowing they must be tiring after their descent from the mountain.

Their plan had been to rest once in the mines, Gimli promising them a warm welcome with food, fire and ale. Hermione admitted, even if only to herself, that hospitality of such a kind would be gladly accepted. Her legs ached, not that her gear had any weight to it, but it had been years since she'd trekked as many miles as she had in the past several days.

She heard an audible gasp and instinctively raised her wand.

"The Walls of Moria!" Gimli exclaimed, pointing ahead of them.

The witch had been so lost in thought that she hadn't noticed the looming cliff face before them. A lake lay before the walls, eerily still and reflecting the darkness of the night. The fog hung low to the waters surface and Hermione's skin tingled. They were definitely not alone but no creatures in sight.

They made their way to the walls, walking along a slippery path of moss covered stone. Their steps were careful, trying not to slip into the creek beside them. As they walked further the creek fed into a larger lake, it's surface unmoved.

At one point Gandalf began running his fingers along the wall, muttering to himself. He seemed to find something as he traced a tall arch with his fingers.

Hermione moved closer to the wizard, as had Frodo, studying his movements. She could make out a faint line in the stone, a thinly etched archway. The rest of their party had stopped, watching the Istari closely. Aragorn had pulled Sam aside, helping him unload the pony's packs and distribute the supplies, clearly meaning to send Bill on his way. They certainly couldn't take a horse deep into the mountain halls.

"Itidin..." Gandalf whispered, looking up at the night sky. "It mirrors only starlight and-"

"The moon!" Hermione smiled, following his gaze. The clouds began to part, bright beams of lunar light shining down through the cover. The etching in the stone began to glow, revealing a glittering doorway. She could make out the words as they appeared, not catching the wizard's smile as she read aloud.

"Door of Durin, Lord of Moria..." She paused, slightly surprised to see Elvish writings on a Dwarven doorway given the tensions between the two peoples. "Speak friend and enter..."

"Well what do you suppose that means?" Merry asked, coming to stand behind the witch. "How would it know we are friends or foe?"

Hermione opened her mouth to reply but was cut off by Gandalf's confident reply.

"It's quite simple, Master Meriadoc, if you are a friend you need only speak the password and the doors will open for you!" He beamed, clearly proud of his answer.

The witch was irked, a surprising emotion. She was sure that the answer was to speak the word 'friend', yet Gandalf had seemed so sure. She shrugged it off as he began chanting at the doorway.

Frodo shivered beside her and she murmured a warming charm, gently touching his shoulder. He smiled gratefully up at her as she reached over and did the same to Merry.

"Thanks. That helps." He wrapped his cloak around himself, keeping the magical heat close.

She smiled at the Hobbit, she had become quite fond of the halflings, constantly making sure they were comfortable on this journey. Hermione had read enough of the shirefolk to know they were not an adventurous bunch, present company excluded.

"How long do you think we will be out here?" Merry asked, looking out over the eerie lake. "Aren't there trolls in these mountains?"

Hermione chuckled. "There are, but don't worry, you're safe with us."

He nodded, moving over to where Pippin was gnawing on some dried meat near the shoreline. She watched the others as Gandalf shouted various languages at the stone wall, after several attempts most of them had sat down for a long haul.

"Somethin' on your mind lass?" She turned to see Gimli, his axe rested against his shoulder. "Don't you worry now, once we are inside you're in for a real treat!"

"I'm sure, Master Gimli. You've had nothing but praise for the mines and I'm curious to see them for myself." Hermione smiled. "Do you know how to enter the mines? I'm worried Gandalf is having some... trouble deciphering that doorway."

"My forefathers always came from Erebor to the East, there lies a different door. Similar, yes, but it opened by the touch of one of the great Dwarf houses. The house of Durin welcomed all dwarves in Moria." He sighed, his beard giving away the smile Hermione couldn't see. "My cousin Balin ventured here long ago to restore Moria to the great hall it once was. I am happy to be able to see him again."

"How many dwarves live in the mines?" She asked. "Would they know if we were out here?" It had been nagging her since Gandalf didn't get the door open on his first try. Surely someone inside would know if their group was trying to get in.

"I'm not sure if Balin brought more longbeards with him." The dwarf answered, moving his axe from one shoulder to the other. "It has been many years since we heard from him. He must be busy with the mines."

Hermione didn't press him about his kin. She had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, something she did not want to share with Gimli. The path they'd traveled had not been walked in a very long time judging from the moss and mildew surrounding the door. If there were dwarves in those halls they hadn't left in a very long time. It wasn't realistic, in her eyes. They'd have to leave, if anything, for trading. She doubted the presence of gardens and livestock deep within the mountain.

"What of your home, lass?" The dwarf chuckled. "Don't tell me the wizard molded you from clay or some other magical nonsense."

She laughed softly, not wanting to disturb Gandalf. "No, nothing of the sort. I come from somewhere... very far and very different. Where I come from there are many wizards and witches. Definitely more than middle earth."

"Sounds too crowded for my liking." He grunted. "No offense, but dwarves are leary of magic-folk. Greymane being the exception. He's proven himself a great friend to all peoples of middle-earth."

Hermione knew that time must have worked differently here compared to home. Clearly Gandalf had been here much longer by Middle Earth than Dumbledore had been dead. His friendship with Elrond, alone, proved that. By her accounts he's been here for generations, if not longer. It had been almost ten years since that horrible night at Hogwarts, yet he'd clearly been here for more than sixty. Her mind drifted to what that meant for Harry and Ron. How long had she been gone? What if their children were walking the same halls they had, laughing on their way to class?

"Lass?" She was shaken from her thoughts.

"I'm sorry." She quickly recovered, wiping away any tears that hadn't yet fallen. "I must be tired."

"Aye, 'tis late. Don't you worry." He patted her arm. "I'm sure Gandalf will have us inside soon."

He walked away, going to stand with Boromir who had taken watch. Hermione turned back towards the door, watching as Gandalf continued his efforts to no avail.

A splash behind her caused her to jump, turning swiftly with her wand pointed towards the lake.

Aragorn had already reached the water, grabbing Pippin before he could mirror Merry and throw a stone in the lake. "Do not disturb the water." He whispered, looking back at Hermione when he let go of the Hobbit. Boromir saw the exchange and moved towards the witch and the ranger.

Walking over he sighed. "We can't be out here much longer."

Hermione nodded. "We've been out here too long, already." Aragorn put his hand on his sword, watching the water as the ripples spread.

They hadn't noticed Gandalf sit down until he let out a loud breath of defeat. "It's no use." He grumbled.

Frodo approached the door, reciting the words slowly. "It's a riddle! Speak 'friend' and enter..." He suddenly exclaimed, turning towards Gandalf. The witch smiled, proud of the halfling's conclusion. "What's the elvish word for friend?"

"Mellon." The doors cracked loudly at the wizard's words.

Hermione quickly ushered Merry, Pippin and Sam towards the door while Boromir and Aragorn kept their eyes on the lake until they were all inside.

Gimli's boasts echoed the entry hall, the quiet irking several party members. "...roaring fires! Malt beer! Red meat of the bone!" He beamed proudly as Legolas quickly lit a torch. "This, my friend, is the home of my cousin, Balin!"

As he continued the light shone down on a macabre scene of fallen skeletons and weapons scattering the floor. The webs and dust indicated a battle decades ago, there would be no welcome for their fellowship.

"No..." Hermione whispered, covering her mouth for fear of disturbing the dead.

"This is no mine." She looked to Boromir as he surveyed the room before them. "This is a tomb!"

Gimli wailed, rushing forward towards one of his fallen kinsman. "Oh no... NO!" He shouted in horror.

Legolas yanked an arrow from one of the skeleton's armor, studying the head briefly before throwing it down in disgust. "Goblins." He spat, swiftly knocking one of his own arrows to his bow.

The sound of their swords unsheathing scraped against Hermione's ears, her wand drawn and pointed towards the cavern ahead as they backed towards the door.

"We make for the Gap of Rohan." Boromir spoke assertively, voicing the same opinion he had atop the mountain. "We should have never come here."

At his words Hermione turned to look at Frodo, almost to assure him that this was not his fault; he couldn't have known what they would find here. All she saw was him and Sam being pulled away, their feet swept from underneath them as tentacles had arisen from the lake.

"No!" She screamed, rushing forward.

"Strider!" Sam shouted, trying to strike the tentacle around his ankle. "Aragorn, help!"

Frodo screamed, attempting to use Stingto free himself, as well.

Aragorn, Boromir and Hermione rushed forward, the two men slashing their way through the tentacles. The witch tried to aim at the tentacles holding the Hobbits but the splashing water and curling appendages made it hard to target.

Thinking quickly, and seeing that Aragorn had found the one tentacle holding Frodo, she aimed carefully at Sam.

She knew merging spells was dangerous, not to mention highly untested, but she had no choice. "Diminuendo Avis!" Sam was instantly replaced, the halfling gone and a small canary in its place. His clothes and cloak came splashing to the ground as the small yellow bird tumbled down to Hermione's hand. "Accio!" The clothes flew into her grasp as Aragorn and Boromir rushed towards her, Frodo in the Gondorian Captain's arms.

"Into the mines!" Gandalf shouted from the doorway as Legolas shot arrows past his head into the creature. Just as they crossed the threshold Hermione gently thrust Canary Sam into Pippin's hands, quickly steering her wand to the doorway.

"BOMBARDA!" She yelled, watching as the archway collapsed behind the men.

The space was instantly dark, their panting breaths the only sound as the rubble settled around them. Soon a glow shone from the end of Gandalf's staff.

"We now have but one choice...we must face the long dark of Moria." He stepped up onto the stairway, careful of the corpses beneath his feet. "Be on your guard...there are older and fouler things than the Orcs in the deep places of the world." He warned, grimly.

"Um... Miss Hermione?" Pippin squeaked. "Is Sam... a bird forever?" He was very carefully holding the small bird in his shaking hands.

The witch gently took the yellow bird and set it on the stone floor. She murmured a drying charm on his clothes, draping the cloak over the feathered creature. "Finite Incantatem." She whispered, and the form was quickly replaced by a pale and shaking Samwise Gamgee.

"I-I was a bird. You turned me into a bird!" He gasped. "I flew! I-I had wings!" His eyes were wide as he wrapped the cloak around his naked body.

"I promised I wouldn't turn you into anything unnatural, Sam." She smiled gently, trying to calm the hobbit. "Birds are natural, aren't they?"

He gaped at her, his mouth sputtering silently.

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Their footsteps echoed through the caverns and hallways as the fellowship carefully made their way through Moria. The path Gandalf chose was through side caverns and hallways, wary of any main halls. Their goal was to make it through the mountain as quickly, and silently, as possible. By Gandalf's estimate their journey would take them four days.

Boromir and Aragorn kept their swords drawn, surrounding the Hobbits as they walked, keeping the halflings close. If they were to come across any goblins or other foul creatures of the dark, the shirelings were the most vulnerable of them all. Having not seen battle it was likely they'd be targeted first.

Hermione's gaze was constantly moving, assessing their surroundings, especially the steep pathways along the inner walls. Leery of any rocks falling, not moved by them, as possible indicators of company. Aside from their steps the silence was deafening, encompassing them in an auricular darkness.

Every few hours Legolas would climb to a higher vantage point, peering into the gloom ahead with his elfsight. Each time he would comment that there wasn't anyone he could see, a particular wording Hermione made note of. He wouldn't say that he didn't see anything, only that there wasn't anything he could see.

She knew what he was trying to reiterate, they needed to remain vigilant. The chances of them truly being alone in these caverns were slim, at best. She briefly pondered what the average lifespan of a goblin could be, seeing as the bodies they discovered were several decades old. If there were any remaining goblin hoards she hoped they were few in numbers.

"Hermione?" She jumped at Legolas' quiet voice. "Are you alright? Your sight is set far away." The elf looked concerned, his eyebrows furrowed slightly.

She nodded. "I'm just... concerned, I suppose is the best word." She whispered back to him, attempting to remain as quiet as she could. "We have no idea if we are truly alone in here, or not."

He nodded his understanding. "Our best chances lie in remaining unnoticed. Gandalf wouldn't lead us astray."

It was moments like this that Hermione wished she could only know Gandalf as they did, that his character had not been tainted with the actions of Albus Dumbledore. While she had an immense amount of respect for her former headmaster she was not blind to the choices he made that put others in unnecessary danger, the greater good be damned. There were many times, in hindsight, that he had led Harry towards a martyr's fate.

"You do not trust him." It was not a question and she met the elf's eyes with a guilt filled gaze of her own.

"It is not that I do not trust Gandalf... I have simply learned to... hold him at arms length." She sighed, rubbing a hand over her tired face. "If I really thought about it, I hold everyone at arms length."

He cocked his head to the side in confusion. "I do not understand. You are closer than arms length to me now." As though to demonstrate he simply laid a hand on her shoulder. "See?"

Had they not been hiding in a dwarven mine, staying silent for the sake of their own lives, she'd have probably laughed to the point of tears at the Elven Prince's puzzlement. Hermione realized her idioms may remain lost on her companions. She was no longer home, after all.

"They call that 'turning a phrase', what I said about arm's length. It means, while trusting what someone does or says, be skeptic as well." She smiled, attempting to explain. "Sometimes it's easier to use a saying to convey a thought where I come from."

"I see." He nodded. "I hope I may prove a worthy ally and you need not hold me to a degree of untrust."

She appreciated his candor. She hadn't had the chance to really speak to the Prince on their travels yet, their long trek through the mines proving an apt setting for getting to know her companions.

"Thank you, Legolas. I hope so, too." She looked forward at their companions as the followed Gandalf through the dark. Perhaps she did need to allow herself more trust towards them. She may not be of this world, but she certainly wasn't alone.

"Would you be willing to tell me more about your home? Perhaps the next place we stop to rest?" He asked, a small smile on his face.

Hermione nodded. "Of course, I have a few books in my bag that I could show you." It was, in fact, only a matter of time before her companions would begin to wonder of her past. Should they wish to succeed there could be no secrets.

He eyed the bag that was fastened to her belt. "I've seen you pull many things from that tiny pouch, I should not be amazed you have more inside to share."

She laughed, covering her mouth to contain herself. The witch had noticed the odd looks from her companions when she'd retrieved many supplies from the small bag. Elrond had allowed her to bring several tomes and scrolls along with her, under the instruction that they be returned to Rivendell. She had several jars of healing salves, along with her own potions from her world.

"It's simple magic, Legolas. The bag is... bigger on the inside, I've also charmed it to weigh nothing."

He nodded. "I'd assumed, I noticed you do the same to most of our supplies before we departed Rivendell." The blonde elf smiled. "You truly are a powerful, Istari, Hermione. I am glad you are on this journey with us." He bowed politely before turning, moving towards Aragorn to relieve the ranger of his watch at the rear of their group.

Their conversation resonated with Hermione as she continued walking through the silent mines. She had to admit it was nice to have a simple conversation, many of the exchanges between the companions had been strategy. There was little social interaction, hobbits excepted.

Hermione soon found herself remembering the tent her and her boys had shared on their fugitive decampment, how it wasn't really strategy that won the day. Everything they did was on the fly, decisions made out of despair and lack of time, and they were still only children. Children forced to grow up too fast, to be thrust upon an impossible task when they should have been just a group of students. This was different, though, she thought to shake her self out of her own prior confounded quest. None of the members of their party could be considered a child. All the Hobbits, while immature and free, were still adults. They all carried with them a level of experience that, combined, would inevitably prove priceless.

Experience would not have prepared Hermione for the sights yet to behold on their journey, as she discovered round the next bend into an expansive cavern.

"The wealth of Moria was not found in gold or jewels, as to be expected." Gandalf smiled, turning his staff to light the area below them. "But rather, Mithril."

The darkness gave way to an eerie blue reflection, streams of a shining substance glittering along the abandoned halls. She had read of the material, able to produce the sturdiest chainmail armor light enough to not burden it's wearer. To see it in its raw form it was easy to see the beauty of the mines, despite the dark silence in which they found themselves.

"Bilbo had a shirt of Mithril." Gandalf continued as they walked along the wall path. "Thorin gave it to him after the liberation of Erebor."

Gimli gasped, looking over at the aforementioned Hobbit's nephew beside him. "That was a kingly gift, indeed!"

The wizard nodded, smiling. "Yes it was. I never told him this, you know, but it's worth was greater than the value of the whole Shire."

Hermione chuckled as Frodo's jaw dropped, his hand moving to adjust his vest.

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After they had found a place to rest on the third night of their journey, all taking their shifts for watch, the fellowship would continue on their way. By her accounts, if they did not delay, they could potentially reach the passage out by nightfall. They had all found a small room to camp for the night, an easy post to defend. There were several stone benches and tables throught the room, perhaps an old jeweler's workshop. Sam had, with the help of Hermione's stash of herbs in her bag, prepared a very simple meal which was a nice reprieve from the salted meats they had been rationing through most of the mines.

Boromir had been the one to suggest it, having the same conclusion as she had-that they may make it through after their rest and would need their strength to make it to the Lothlorien wood on the other side. The Captain had even helped Sam prepare the meal.

Hermione had been watching the man closely since the incident at the pass. She knew he was a good man, and she could see him struggling to remain firm in the presence of such dark magic. The witch knew, from her experiences with horcruxes, that this wasn't his fault. Even the strongest wills can break when tested by such malevolence.

During the night she was awoken by Aragorn to take next watch. She groggily wrapped her cloak around herself, the fire having died while she slept. As she walked towards the doorway, her wand resting ready in her palm, she noticed Boromir sitting outside the archway.

"Lovely morning isn't it?" He asked as she sat opposite him in the hallway.

"Is it morning? It's hard to tell in here." She smiled. "The darkness can be a bit disorienting when it comes to my timekeeping."

He nodded, looking down at his feet as he kicked a stone aside. "I must apologize, my lady."

"How many times must I ask you not call me my lady?" Hermione sighed. "Apologize for what, exactly? The darkness?"

His head hung, as though he couldn't quite look at her as he replied. "For my behavior on the mountain."

The witch was surprised, she had figured he wouldn't speak of it, for then he'd have to admit that he wasn't himself. That he'd had a moment of weakness, the ultimate admission of defeat for a soldier.

"Boromir..." She took a moment to find her words as she moved to sit beside him. He looked up at her as she spoke, this time. "You are a good man, I know we didn't have the best start in Rivendell, but I do see it now. I think that's why you struggle around the Ring. It is not your fault."

He scoffed. "I should be stronger, not affected by it's darkness."

"That is like saying you'd be strong enough to touch red-hot iron and not be burned by it's heat." She felt, for a moment, like she was facing some Weasley-level stubbornness, here. "The Ring... is alive. It's hard to see, I know, from a bauble. Have you thought, perhaps, it feels if it can weaken your moral character that it can weaken all of ours? You're the Captain of Gondor, the highest Knighthood of your realm! Does that mean nothing?"

Boromir shrugged. "Being a Knight is the highest honor I've ever been bestowed, it is who I am. It is what guides my choices, my decisions. Yet, I have noticed the... pull from that thing." He almost spat the last word, a sign Hermione was grateful for. If he recognized it, he could overcome it. Just as Ron had with the locket.

Suddenly, it dawned on her. She was dealing with the same situation as she'd done with her best friend.

"It makes you feel like you've failed, hasn't it? When you feel it's trying to pull you in?"

He nodded. "I've faced countless hoards of enemies, never back down in the face of my foes. Yet this ring... this tiny insignificant thing makes me feel like the smallest child. Makes me feel like... it knows me better."

Hermione shook her head. "It is trying to change the man you are into a man it can control. You can't let that happen. You are stronger than the Ring, you want to know how I know that?"

Boromir looked up at her, his eyes swimming in guilt.

"It is trying to influence you because it is scared of you. If it goes after the one of us with the strongest moral code, for example: A Knight of Gondor, and wins... it'd be unstoppable and be able to return to Sauron. Which is why you can't let it change you." She gently laid a hand on his arm. "I do not wish to lose another friend to the forces of darkness, Boromir. I'm not sure I could."

He chuckled, his shoulders shaking slightly before smiling at the witch sitting aside him. "How is it you are so wise for someone so young?" He eyed her for a moment, curiously. "What horrors have you seen?"

The witch sighed. She had only told anyone in middle-earth a very small bit of her past experiences back home, something she had done intentionally. She had only told Eomer a tiny fraction of her adventures with Harry and Ron, but that had been different... they had been sharing more personal things in their conversation.

"There's too many to count. I suppose I can tell you from the beginning, we aren't going anywhere. It's only fair, I suppose, for you to know what I've been through to offer such advice." Hermione settled in, leaning her head back against the stone. "The others don't know, I haven't found the time to tell them. It hasn't felt right, yet, I suppose. I should start at the beginning... When I was eleven years old a woman came to our door and asked to speak to my parents and I about a private school called Hogwarts."

As she began to present her own epic to the Knight she expected to be met with rebuttals of the possible and impossible aspects her past. After all, to someone unfamiliar with the wizarding world, her story would seem just that-a fantastical story that couldn't possibly be true. The feats she had tackled in her youth, even before the age of sixteen, were small by no measure.

Yet Boromir offered more of a physical than conversational response. There was the occasional angered sigh, which came during the explanation of blood purity, or the pacing when she'd explained the horrors her and her classmates faced at the hands of Dolores Umbridge. Hermione found herself carefully side-stepping details about Dumbledore, as she worried she would slip up and call him Gandalf. The last thing they needed on this trek was suspicions that the Istari was an imposter. She had explained what happened with her parents, the whispered raids and, finally, the impromptu camping trip after Bill and Fleur's wedding,

When they'd reached a turning point in her story, the part Hermione feared the most, Boromir could tell. Her breathing had become quick and anxious, her hands beginning to shake. He resumed his seat beside the witch.

"If it is difficult you don't have to continue, from what you have told me so far I've been a fool to question your role to play." He smiled at her gently. She could tell, for a moment, his big brother tone had come out.

"No, this may be the most important part." Taking a shaking breath she looked up at the Knight. "After being on the run with Harry and Ron for months we were captured shortly after Ron came back. The snatchers knew who they had, we weren't exactly unrecognizable even though we had tried. They took us to Malfoy Manor?"

"The... 'ferrett' was a Malfoy, right?" Hermione couldn't tell if he was attempting to be funny or if was trying to be sure he had paid enough attention.

"Yes, it was his family's estate. Voldemort's followers had gathered there, his most loyal officers. His second in command, Bellatrix tortured me for... hours, though it could have been longer." She rolled up her sleeve, loosening her bracer and removing the faint glamour over her arm.

The jarring lines of the word 'mudblood' stared up at Boromir and he saw red.

"Cowards!" He grunted, trying to keep his voice down as the knuckles around the hilt of his sword turned white. "You were a child yet they took you as a prisoner of war."

Hermione nodded, pulling her bracer back on. "We hadn't been children for a long time by that point. This is not my first battle with dark magic, Boromir. I won't stand idly by while another dark Lord attempts to take all that is good from this world. I won't lose anymore friends to one man's quest for power. I swear it."

Boromir stood quickly, offering a hand out to her. As she took it he gripped her forearm, looking her in the eye.

"I swear, on the White Tree of Gondor, that you; Hermione Granger are forever more an ally of the People of Gondor. I will gladly fight by your side to the death, and would be honored to face battle together."

Her jaw dropped at his words. This was no joking matter, as Captain he had every authority to make such a declaration. "Thank you, Boromir. I will gladly fight for the lives of Gondor and it's people." She bowed her head. "The honor is mine, captain."

"You have taught me something my father has declined to, in all my years. Change is inevitable if the old ways have failed."

The witch nodded, happy such a message had been successfully conveyed. "There is something else that may, perhaps, be inevitable..."

Boromir cocked his head to the side, releasing her arm.

"If Aragorn is the heir of Gondor... do you think he'd ever be welcomed back to the White City?" She asked cautiously, knowing the subject to be sensitive if the events at the Council had told her anything.

The Knight sighed, rubbing his neck as he seemed to choose his words carefully.

"He would be welcomed, our people yearn for a King. But he must want to rule. There our disagreement lies." Boromir shook his head. "I was wrong to say Gondor needs no King. We do. But our King has to want us in return."

Hermione wasn't shocked by his words, but she did understand. A ruler needs his people as much as they need them.

"Perhaps, rather than looking at Aragorn as not wanting to rule Gondor, have you ever thought that he doesn't feel worthy of them?" She could tell the question surprised him. It was probably something he hadn't considered. As a man of Gondor, having been born and raised amongst it's people, it would be hard to see it from an outsider's perspective. Aragorn had never lived in Gondor, his family raising him in the north before he was taken in by Elrond as a toddler. He had never known life in the western kingdoms of men. Bloodlines could only run so deep.

Before Boromir could respond they were aware of the rest of the party rising from their slumber. Their watch was ended, their companions would be readying themselves to continue on their journey.

"Consider it, Boromir. Before you are quick to judge a man you don't know." She offered as a final piece of advice to the emotionally torn Captain. Hermione turned back towards the room to help with the packing before they set off, leaving the Knight alone in the hall to gather his thoughts.

The rest of the fellowship was stirring as she entered the makeshift bunk room. Merry and Pippin were attempting to roll away from Sam's efforts to wake them, flailing their tiny arms at the offending hobbit.

"Get up, I will get Gandalf to get you up." The gardener threatened.

The two cousins were quickly out of their bedrolls, rolling the blankets up to go atop their packs. When Sam turned to finish stowing his own gear and cooking supplies, the two were quick to make their unseen faces to his back.

Gimli was ready first, clearly anxious to continue on. Hermione couldn't tell if it was the uneasiness surrounding the now empty halls, or his hope that there still dwelled his kinsmen deeper in the mountain. He stood as she entered, moving to take up post with Boromir until the others were ready. He murmured a low "Morning, lass." as she passed.

"Are you alright, Hermione?" It was Aragorn who asked. He and Legolas were tying the last straps of their own bedrolls, both having packed light enough to instill little efforts in repacking.

She nodded. "Nothing to report, at least."

"And Boromir?" Legolas inquired. "He has said little since the pass."

Hermione could understand their concern, they had all seen his hesitation when ordered to give the Ring back to Frodo. "He is struggling against the Ring, it's no secret. But he is still a good man and we shouldn't forget that remains true."

Aragorn nodded. "Sauron's power is, by no means, an evil easily overcome. He will need our help on this journey, as we will no doubt need ours."

She was glad that the Ranger had taken on a similar opinion when it came to Boromir. Perhaps there was hope for this fellowship to overcome more than just Sauron, but their own impressions of each other.

When all the members were ready Gandalf led them down the corridor, explaining that they should find themselves in the Great Hall of Dwarrowdelf. Goblin graffiti adorned the walls as they continued, Hermione attempting to not notice the ink of choice was blood. The number of skeletons had decreased, but the evidence of battle had not. Many helmets and shields lay cracked or shattered around them, some still holding the skull or arm of its owner.

Gimli looked ahead but the witch could see the tears brimming in his eyes. She couldn't imagine what he must be feeling, seeing nothing but death and destruction in the realm of his people.

As they climbed a set of stairs, steep and narrow along the cavern, Hermione could make out three archways ahead of them. Gandalf had paused at the landing, studying each door in turn. She approached, coming to stand beside him as he turned to her with a strange look in his eyes.

Then she realized, before he even had a chance to speak, what was wrong.

"I have no memory of this place." He whispered.