Chapter Four (Second Encounters and First Impressions)

The Rangers had been taken by surprise when they saw the black warg. While they were used to keeping the darker things from the inhabitants of the land as was their custom, it wasn't any easier to get used to. Those that were stationed in this particular area of Eriador at this time had tensed upon seeing the lone warg yet were no less ready to put hands on their bows and knocking arrows, ready to let them fly. They did so when it appeared as if it would attempt to enter the Shire. Wargs didn't travel alone whether it be with another warg in their packs or in pairs with riders astride them.

The Rangers were of a suspicious nature especially when it came to being coming from or going eastward. They had been on the lookout for anything odd since Mount Doom had erupted into flame once again. The Dúnedain couldn't chance another occurrence that had happened during the Fell Winter with the white wargs of the north. Before they could loose their arrows and kill the beast, it scented them and ran accompanied by a rider! Unfortunately, none of their arrows were true and failed to find their mark.

A message was sent to inform their Chief about the sighting. A few went to track the beast as soon as it was light enough to do so, while the rest remained at their post until they were relieved to travel and continue to protect the rest of Eriador. Those that followed the warg's tracks that ran almost parallel with the North-South road seeming as if they were traversing to Tharbad. The rider had gotten off the warg at points and the footprints confused the Rangers as they weren't prints that would be left behind by a goblin. In Tharbad they found evidence of days old fire which only could have come from the warg rider that they hadn't gotten a good look at back at the ford.

Rather than going through the Swanfleet they went around, following the Glanduin noting when the tracks picked back up again. All signs pointed towards the Misty Mountains. They believed that the warg and it's rider would be traversing the mountain path eastwards. The Rangers had thought to go as far as the mountain range before sending off another message. They hadn't even gotten to the mountains before their quarry was sited once more. Whatever business the warg rider had in the mountains it brought them back out again. They were once again coming along the Glanduin. Bets were that they were once more headed back to Tharbad despite the number of times the trail seemed to backtrack along itself. The captain motioned for his men to circle about, see if they could surround the warg and its rider. They had only planned on following and reporting what they saw. If they could get information directly from the source however, then it was a chance opportunity.

The adrenaline from the mountain had worn off as well as trying to force oneself to stay awake longer than they could was taking it's toll on Harry. Padfoot was concerned for his boy and tried to get him to rest, but Harry was nothing if not stubborn and refused. He didn't want to sleep and see those ugly creatures. The strain of being wary, trying to be alert in case of anymore surprises, and his body coping with newly healed wounds, had the boy's body trying to rebel the only way it could; by trying to fall asleep on his feet which stumbled as he walked. At Padfoot's whine and insistence, Harry finally climbed atop the wolf which he'd been refusing to do before rightfully thinking that he'd fall asleep if he did so. He hadn't been mistaken and it wasn't too long before Padfoot felt his boy slowly lean forward until he was resting with his arms on either side of the wolf's neck, head atop the back of his.

Padfoot had ignored the occasional twitch of the boy's limbs as Harry had done so before when asleep. It was the movements coupled with the distressed whines that had the wolf pause unsure. He had wanted to make it back to the abandoned city but then had picked up the scent of others which had him change his mind and alter his direction. Doing so quite a few times didn't seem to have tricked their pursuers whose scents and sounds moved along with them; persistently chasing them. The wolf had a quick decision to make for the predicament they were in. He couldn't run with Harry as deeply asleep as he was. There was nowhere to hide and wait out those that were stalking them. That didn't stop Padfoot as he tried to keep low and use the hills and rocks to his advantage.

Carefully as not to wake or jostle Harry, he got down on his belly, rolled the boy off him before getting back up and trying to lead them away from Harry. He couldn't risk the boy making a noise while trying to hide. Hopefully, Padfoot was the one they were tracking and would follow him without disturbing the boy. He couldn't risk Harry waking and making noise while trying to hide. Padfoot attacked the first person he saw, jaws clamping down on the bow that was brought up to try and fend him off. The wolf's weight had the man fall onto his back and Padfoot heard a loud satisfying -CRACK- as his powerful jaws snapped closed on the wood, breaking it. A yelp was torn from him as his shoulder flank was stabbed. An arrow grazed his hind flank, the pain only adding to his anger, fueling him as he bore down on his downed prey snarling.

The man had brought up his arm to protect his throat otherwise it would have been torn out. As it was, Padfoot had the man's arm in his mouth, worrying it, when he heard a voice call out, "Hold warg! Or your master ceases to breathe!" Turning his head towards the voice still with the man's arm in his locked jaws caused the man's arm to be almost torn from it's socket as he was pulled along. The wolf's baleful glare centered on the hand that was holding a blade to his boy's throat.

Harry had been thrashing, fighting the goblins in his sleep when he'd began to began to fight in reality when he'd felt himself grabbed. He clawed and even tried to bite his assailant subconsciously noting that he thought that the skin of a goblin tasted strange and not at all what he expected. The sensation of cold metal at his throat woke him as well as someone commanding him to halt or he'd be dead too soon? That had caused Harry to open his eyes and stare with fear at his captor who indeed held a blade to his throat and had a hand twisted in his hair to keep his head up and away from the weapon to both better access his neck and from accidentally slicing open his own throat in the struggle. Grunting and still trying to pull away, Harry winced as his hair was used for leverage as he was yanked upright none too gently. The man maneuvered them out into the open where they could hear Padfoot snarling and the sound of someone else releasing sounds of pain. At the sound of Padfoot being hurt, Harry tried in vain to once again get the other to release him by trying to kick out behind him. All that got him was the dagger pressed into his skin and a warning.

The boy wore a scowl one hand on the wrist that was holding the blade to his throat, the other was grasping at the man's other arm trying to get him to release the hold he had of his hair. When Padfoot's jaw closed more with an almost audible cracking noise that could only be the bone breaking, eliciting a pained yell from his captive. The man holding Harry pressed the blade that much harder to where a bead of red now stained the silver blade where it bit into his neck. "Keep struggling and you'll save me the trouble of slicing your throat myself."

"You'll kill me anyway."

"That hasn't been determined just yet. Call off your warg!"

When it looked like Harry was going to refuse, the man's dagger bit further into his neck, causing the boy to hiss and for Padfoot to let go of the man whose arm he'd been shredding. Hackles raised, it looked as if the wolf was going to go for the downed man's throat at the slightest movement from either man. The pressure eased only the slightest from the boy's neck allowing Harry to swallow without fear of cutting himself. Scared, angry, and wanting to be away, his voice when it came out betrayed how helpless he felt which he didn't like at all. "What do you want from us? We didn't do anything!"

"Your warg attacked first."

Despite the predicament he was in, Harry couldn't help but scowl more and call the men what they were in his eyes. "Liar!"

"I'd be careful whom you call liar."

Before Padfoot could advance an arrow was loosed lodging itself in front of him, causing the wolf to jump back growling and the fight to leave Harry. Of course there were more than just the two men. The injured one was unconscious, his bow having been rendered useless when the wolf broke it. It had also come from a different direction. Unfortunately the boy couldn't turn his head to look and they weren't in his peripheral vision. He did however recognize the cloaks even if it had been dark and they were fleeing when he'd seen them.

"You were the ones that attacked us at the ford!"

"Why were you trying to enter the Shire?"

"What's the Shire?"

"Why were you trying to cross the ford?"

Harry tried to keep from rolling his eyes. If the men lived around the ford then they would have to know the reason wouldn't they? "It was the first place to cross the river to go west."

It seemed the Drughu were right and that going west was a very bad idea. Maybe he and Padfoot should have just continued going north and left the ford alone. It would have saved them the hassle of going east and running into those awful monsters on the mountain. Maybe if they had just went north then these men wouldn't have come to attack them again?

"Why were you going in that direction?"

Harry sighed. As scared as he was of answering wrong and ending up dead, he was getting annoyed with the questions. What was wrong with wanting to travel that way? If they didn't want any visitors they should have had a sign or something that stated that was their property and land! Petulant, he responded, "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

His gaze had been traveling trying to find the archer who'd shot the arrow at Padfoot while said wolf had kept his own gaze locked on Harry's captor. The boy's eyes narrowed when he saw a third person knelt down with a rock shielding most of his body. That meant that there were four of them? Could there be more that he couldn't see?

"Where do you hail from?"

"What?"

"Where did come from? You didn't take the north-south road."

"We followed the river north to the ford."

"There is naught south but the Dark Wood. Despite the wildness of your appearance, you don't look like a Drúadan."

Harry kept his mouth shut and seeing this, his captor said something to his companions in a language that he'd not heard before. Then back in the language that Harry could understand and they'd been talking in, he was instructed to, "Tell your warg to stand down."

"If I don't?"

"Then we shall have to kill it."

Feeling his eyes widen at that statement and how matter-of-fact it was stated without emotion caused the boy to clench his jaw and blink to fight away the angry tears. His voice cracked. "What did we do wrong?"

"Tell it to stand down."

"Promise you won't harm him," Harry demanded first. He wouldn't put it past these men to kill Padfoot as soon as they could.

"I swear, none of my men will harm the warg. As long as it does no more damage to us."

"Padfoot," Harry called with only the slightest hesitation. It wasn't as if he really believed the man, but had to take him at his word for the time being. Swapping over to the language of the Drughu, he told the wolf, "Attack them if they try anything. Let's play along for now though."

Hissing again as the grip in his hair tightened and pulled his head further back and the blade cut into his tender neck caused the boy to whimper. He had to hold his hand up and out to halt Padfoot from attacking. The man asked in a dangerous voice, "What did you just say?"

"I told him what you wanted me to say."

Harry wasn't sure if the man believed him or not, but breathed easier as the grip on his hair was relaxed and the blade eased its pressure against his neck. The person the man had apparently spoken to in that other language and shot the arrow at Padfoot entered into the boy's line of sight. He was however at an angle so that the man by the boulder could still shoot Padfoot if he dared to attack despite Harry's claim of telling him to stand down. Rope was wrapped around the boy's wrists binding them. Padfoot growled but went no further not wanting any more harm to come to the teen. He was sure that he could take out all the men, but not before one of them further harmed or ended Harry's life.

The wolf would play along for now, striking when he could. One was deeply injured and unable to use his arm possibly ever again, which Padfoot was quite proud of. The injured one was a burden to his companions, one of which had to haul the man up and help him which left two to be dealt with when the time came. He moved away from the down man when his boy was made to instruct him to do so. If Harry wanted to play that Padfoot could only understand the Drûg language, he would play along until it suited them. Until he was able to get his boy safely away.

AN – I sorta imagine that Harry's hair at this point would be shaggy and a bit like it was in the fourth HP movie Goblet of Fire.

And can I just say, WOW! You guys are amazing! I didn't expect so many follows and faves! I get a happy thrill when I look at the graph and see how many people are reading this and just how far around the world as well! Thank you so very much for reading and giving this story a shot!