Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own the wonderful world of Harry Potter or LOTR.
A/N: Sorry for the late update I've been on vacation until now. So it has been brought to my attention that there is a little confusion on Hermione's age. Since the last chapter, it has been ages since Hermione's arrival in Middle-Earth. She arrived in Middle-Earth during the second age and it is now the third age. By my calculations, she is 1,030 years old as of the last chapter. As for her magic, she never had her wand on her since she went to bed in the first chapter before being transported to the new world. In the Harry Potter world, wands were a conductor of sorts for the witches' and wizards' magical core. But it is not impossible for them to perform wandless magic. Therefore, I decided to utilize that and have Hermione have powers similar to wandless magic like controlling the element of fire. I am still in the process of deciding how I want to develop that further on in the story haha. Also, this story is going to use components from both the books and the movies associated with LOTR. I hope this explanation clears it up a little. And without further ado, here is the new chapter!
-Chapter 7-
To travel from Imladris to the Shire, it would take eighteen days if Hermione calculated correctly when she studied the map of Arda before leaving the halls of Elrond. It has been an uneventful week of travelling so far and Hermione was able to enjoy the scenery she passed. She rode her horse over lush hills, on flat plains, and through thick forests. At this pace, she should enter the Shire not too long from now. Hermione had to admit that this whole travelling alone fiasco was doing some good for her heart and mind. It allowed her to, what was it they called it back in London? Soul-search? Whatever it was, Hermione has never felt at peace as she did now. It's no wonder Gandalf is constantly wandering around aimlessly.
The sun was starting to set and Hermione needed to find a place to rest. Up ahead, she saw a small town and nudged her horse into a canter. A bed sounded wonderful after a week of sleeping on rocks and twigs. Not to mention a nice hot bath would do wonders for her sore body. Upon reaching the wooden gate, a small hole suddenly popped open and a withered old face looked out.
"A she-elf? What business do you have here at Bree, my lady?" The old man croaked.
"I have travelled far and long and seek a place to rest." Hermione smiled.
The old gate-keeper stared at her with scrutiny before shutting the little hole and opening the gate.
"I beg your pardon for the rudeness, but it is my job to check every person that passes these gates." The old man said.
"Beg not, for there is nothing to forgive. You are just doing your job. May I ask where I can find room and board, and maybe a little something to eat?" Hermione asked.
"It'd be the Prancing Pony for you then, my lady. You'll find a fair price at that inn." The old man pointed at a moderate wooden building down the road.
"Thank you." Hermione slid off her horse and led it on foot to the inn.
She couldn't help but notice all the eyes that followed her as she made her way to the inn.
'I guess they don't see elves very often. Granted elves seldom left their respective realms…' Hermione thought.
Hermione tied her the reigns to a post and patted her horse before entering the establishment. Upon opening the doors, she was met with warmth from the hearth and men and women chattering loudly. She spotted the counter where she assumed the owner was and made a bee-line towards it.
"I would like a room for one please, and a warm meal if I may." Hermione smiled.
The owner took a double-take and smiled brightly.
"Of course, my lady! And what shall I put in the books for the reservation?" The owner opened a weathered book and picked up a feather before dipping it in ink.
"Hermione."
The owner paused and looked at her curiously. "You wouldn't happen to be travelling from Rivendell, would you?"
'Rivendell…? Oh, he must mean Imladris…' Hermione forgot that the elvish kingdoms had different names sometimes in the common tongue. And then she got suspicious, how did he know where she travelled from…? Her hand slowly reached for her sword strapped at her side.
"Depends on who is asking…" Hermione said as her eyes narrowed.
Reading her body language immediately, the inn's owner put up both his hands, palms open, in an indication of friendliness.
"I mean you no harm, my lady. But a strange old fella came by the inn but a few days past. Had a message he did. Left something for a friend. He said a she-elf travelling from Rivendell will be comin' to get it." The owner sputtered.
Hermione relaxed immediately. "Forgive me, sir, but you could never be to safe. This 'old fella' didn't perhaps have a great big, white beard and pointy grey hat did he?"
"That's the one." The owner reached down under the counter and handed her a sealed envelope.
"Thank you, good sir." Hermione smiled and took the envelope.
"Have a seat anywhere you would like, my lady. Food will be brought to you while I get your room ready." The owner turned to make the arrangements after handing her a room key.
Hermione turned and picked a secluded area with a table for one where she knew she wouldn't be bothered. The last thing she wanted was to have a drunkard cosying up to her. Not that it would bother her, but she would feel sorry for the poor bloke that would suffer her wrath should they overstep the line. Not long after, a maid brought her a plate of steaming hot food and a jug of water. Hermione ate silently and watched the occupants of the room before she left some change and headed up to the room the inn owner prepared.
Changing out of her riding clothes, she walked into the washroom where they had already had a hot bath waiting for her. She washed a weeks worth of dirt and grime off and dried herself off before donning her nightdress. Sitting at the vanity, she brushed out her hair and braided it before taking the sealed envelope she received and read it by the candlight.
My dear Hermione,
I hope that this letter arrived to you safe and sound at the Prancing Pony.
How in the world did Gandalf know she would stop here in the first place? But knowing him, he seems to know everything. Hermione scoffed with amusement and read on with a small smile.
I would have met you here in Bree if not for the pressing matter I had to attend to. But worry not; I shall see you in the Shire at our appointed time. There is much I would like to discuss with you, but not through this. Something stirs in Middle-Earth and I fear we may be watched. Meet me at Bag End at the end of Bagshot Row in Hobbiton of the Shire.
Gandalf
Well, it certainly sounds like Gandalf. And what a strange meeting place, nothing less of Gandalf is to be expected. But what is it that he wanted to discuss that was so secret? Hermione frowned. That ominous feeling she felt started nagging at her mind once more. Shaking her head, she decided she would deal with it when she meets Gandalf after he discusses whatever he needs to discuss. Blowing out the candle, she tucked the letter away in her bag before retiring to bed.
The next morning, she woke bright and early and donned on her riding outfit. Giving the room a once over, making sure she did not leave anything behind but a few coins, she walked out. It was still early where not even the owner was awake yet. She untied her horse from the post and rode out of Bree and made her way to the Shire. She rode on a faster pace this time as it seems like Gandalf was in a hurry to speak with her.
She crossed a bridge and before she knew it, after a few more days of travelling she reached lush hills of green with what seemed like doors built into the ground. The sun was setting and it would be dark in a matter of minutes. She needed to find this Bag End. Passing a door within a small enclosure, she stopped and regarded the child-like man. She would have mistaken him for a dwarf if not for the lack of a beard and the presence of big hairy feet. Hobbits.
"Excuse me, sir. Can you direct me to Bag End?" Hermione smiled.
The hobbit regarded her with unease before pointing down the road. "Straight down that way, my lady."
Hermione gave her thanks. Upon reaching the end of the road, she saw a mailbox labeled 'Bilbo'. But where is Gandalf? Upon closer inspection of the place, she noticed a small symbol on the door. It was a rune, if she was not mistaken, for the letter 'G'.
'Of course he would leave a sign as narcissist as his initial…' Hermione rolled her eyes and chuckled. She got off her horse and walked up to the door before knocking.
She could her shouting behind the doors and one distinctive voice rising above the others as it came nearer to the entrance.
"No, no! There's nobody home! Go away, and bother somebody else! There's far too many dwarves in my dining room as it is!"
Dwarves? What would dwarves be doing here so far from their home? Granted, she was far from her home as well. But where is Gandalf then? Hermione frowned slightly. From what she has read in the history books, dwarves and elves were not on speaking terms as much.
"I am terribly sorry, but I was told I may meet Gandalf here. Perhaps you have heard of him or seen him? He is quite old with a white beard and big, pointy grey hat." Hermione said through the door.
All noise stopped and an eerie silence followed after her announcement.
The door then swung open and she was met with the grandfatherly smile she has now associated with Gandalf.
"My dear Hermione! So good of you to join us! Come in, come in!" Gandalf moved aside and ushered her in.
"Good evening, Gandalf. What is this about dwarves…" Hermione stopped short at the sight she met upon entering what she assumed was the dining room.
There, in the middle of the small abode, was a large group of dwarves in the middle of moving what seemed to be chairs, plates, and… is that a roll of cheese? She turned to Gandalf and raised an eyebrow.
'What have you gotten me into now…' Hermione mentally thought to Gandalf, who at least had the decency to look abashed.
A/N: So? What'd you guys think of this chapter? I hope you enjoyed it! Please review!
~lalune30
