Legends, Superstitions and Sayings

"That's how it is with legends. The greater they sound, the more must've got left out."
― Tim Tharp, Knights of the Hill Country

The Rangers rarely gathered and when they did, it was for very important reasons. The last time it was done, it had been for the battle of the Northern Kingdom. Their arrival had seriously turned the tide of the war before a betrayal led to its downfall.

What was happening around their small campfire was just a small gathering but it was a gathering nonetheless. Heather had travelled a lot and seen a number of Dunedain, but she had never seen them this many in one place at the same time.

"My friend," Aragorn whispered in her ear. "What's wrong? You look uneasy."

Heather gave him a wan smile. "You haven't heard the stories, have you?" she asked. "I'm not the superstitious sort, but the last time your people gathered…" she allowed the sentence to trail off, letting him get the idea by himself.

He smiled, even as his eyebrows lifted. "Ah! I see what you mean. But don't worry; we get these things done quickly. We don't like to gather."

Heather allowed his words to comfort her, even as she smacked herself for being superstitious. Instead, she took in the fifteen men that gathered around the campfire, with different ages and grim faces. Fifteen of Aragorn's most trusted men.

She marveled at the noble spirit that lurked in their eyes and the discipline that they held themselves with. It was that discipline that she tried to teach her men, but it was something that you had to gain by experience and not by tame lessons she gave to them. What caught her attention most was the way they deferred to Aragorn.

They didn't say it in words, or in their tone of voice (which seemed to be set in the default of gruff and unused), but it was only seen when you looked closely at their body language. The Dunedain didn't have time for time for titles but they were polite and gave respect where respect was due.

Heather envied that so much since she tried and failed to pound that in her men's' brain.

"You called?" Halbarad asked after a miniscule nod of acknowledgement in her direction.

Aragorn nodded. "Gryffon had a vision," he said. He explained it simply and succinctly, not hinting on the darkness of the vision but concentrating on the promise of safety. Both of them had agreed that sharing everything would not be wise. Some futures were just not meant to be shared.

"These safehouses," a man said slowly, his tongue testing out the new word. "How safe – how do you expect to make it safe? Any defense can be overcome by the right methods."

Aragorn shot Heather a concerned glance when she closed her eyes. Externally, she was calm and controlled. Inwardly, she was a mass of nerves and contradictions of emotions. She wanted to hug something, yet at the same time her back straightened, taking its strength from her old argument that the only people whose opinions could hurt her were all in Haven.

Before Heather had left, Hermione had brought up the idea that in the process of warding the safehouses, they would have to tell the Dunedain the truth. They were the type of men that would accept nothing else but the truth for their own safety.

And if the problem arose in convincing them, Heather would have to summon her siblings. However, there was Havens safety to think about and Hermione calculated only a twenty minute window. Not nearly enough time to convince a group of cynical and highly paranoid men if they were already on the disbelieving, but then again…

"My siblings and I," she started softly but firmly. "We're not from this world. We came from another one and in there, we were at war…"

As she spoke, she gauged their expressions. Since they were very controlled in their body language, it was some effort to note it but they at least, weren't showing disbelief, just surprise and, in Aragorn's case, smugness.

She ended it with, "And we came here, and we saw how new the world was and we wanted to help it on its way, so that it would never go the way our world did…and if it ever would, it would be a long time away."

Heather stomped down the urge to fidget as she felt the weight of their gazes. "Well?" she asked. She didn't sound nervous, so that was a good thing.

Aragorn broke into a smile. "I guessed something different and special about your family, but I never factored in another world," he said.

She was curious as to why he was exuding smugness during her explanation but she never thought he'd made his own theories.

"Y-you," she spluttered, blinking. "You believe me? And you aren't angry?"

They all gave her small smiles and to Heather, who knew how rare those smiles were, felt like she'd just been hit by an overpowered Cheering charm. Several of them at the same time.

"We understand, Gryffon," another man said. "When you first came, you must have been afraid and confused. And then it became a habit to hide it."

She lowered her eyes, hiding the sudden need to cry. She breathed deeply for a moment, grateful beyond words, is so many ways that she practically itched to hug something – anything.

"As I was saying," Heather said, returning to the previous topic while clearing her throat. "With our magic, we can make it safe. Haven is protected by those same wards. But with the multitudes of safehouses, there would be a different set we will use. If you wish, we can tie it to your blood and your heritage, so only Rangers of the North can enter."

The last was only a suggestion and it was quickly negated by all of them.

"No," Halbarad explained at her raised eyebrow. "The wilderness…it is a harsh and dangerous place. You may place your healers and brewers to watch over it, but there are more people who need it."

Heather finally understood what Luna meant when she said that there was a reason why the descendants of the Numenoreans, the Dunedain, were loved by the Valar specifically. Before they had fallen, they must have hearts that were great and innately kind.

The planning went so smoothly that Heather sometimes had to pinch herself several times just to make sure it was real.

Her siblings were people with diverse personalities and different kinds of temper. That usually resulted in an explosion of amazing proportions. When they planned, though it was with a time limit, they usually did it in the Sanctuary, where they could plan at their leisure and had all the resources near. And even if they felt danger and were extremely wary of war, they had a place where they could let their guard down.

The Rangers rarely had comfort. What tempers they had were soldiered and ironed out by the wilderness into discipline and logic. Heather wouldn't call them socially stunted but she would call them socially inept.

And really, she had to pinch herself several times because of that discipline and that logic.

The Rangers had no arguments. There were no shouting matches or anything that raised their voices. It was unnervingly weird.

What they had were logical suggestions and counter suggestions. Since there were fifteen people, not counting Aragorn and Heather, that was a lot of suggestions. Heather admired Aragorn for dealing with all of it without a wince.

"This is surreal," Heather muttered. "But then again, this is you."

He smirked at her. "Aren't you talking about yourself?" he asked rhetorically.

They eventually settled on twenty-two safehouses that would be strategically placed in the areas that the Dunedain regularly patrolled.

When they offered to help, she shot them down quickly.

"No," she said. "I'm using this as an exercise for my son. That one hasn't had much practice using his gifts yet. But don't worry, this won't take a year."

Heather had initially calculated a year and a half but then she remembered Kreacher and it shortened to eight months.

"If you insist, Gryffon," Halbarad said reluctantly. It was obvious as anything that he wanted to help.

And Merlin, he flashed her that sad, soulful look that Fenny sometimes adopted when faced with prey that Heather forbade him from eating. Oh, Bugger!

Heather sighed with resignation. "Alright," she muttered. "You can tell me where to buy most of them supplies. And don't bother with stone and wood, I can manage that by myself."

Their enthusiastic response to that left Heather blinking for several moments before she remembered to grab a quill and parchment to note down everything they said.

When they finally broke camp two days later, with promises to send word through Hafny, Heather felt some measure of peace settle on her spirit. It was a pleasant feeling since she hadn't realized the weight that settled on her the moment she saw that bleak vision.

"Are you alright?" Halbarad asked. He was one of the last to go back to his duties since he had stayed closeted with Aragorn long after the planning.

She flashed him a quick smile. "Yes. I'm better than alright." Then a thought occurred to her and a crease appeared on her forehead. "Actually, Halbarad, I have a favor to ask of you."

He gestured for her to continue, and she did after a moment's hesitation. "May I touch your hand? I wish to see something and I can't wait for it to get urgent before it hits on my subconscious."

All the Rangers were private men and it surprised her that he agreed to have his future viewed easily. The frown he set his face into forbade questions and Heather removed her gloves, looking everywhere but at him.

It was as awkward as anything.

Then she touched his skin and her knees nearly buckled at the onslaught of images that entered her mind.

There were swords and fighting (which really was inevitable in his future since he was, you know, a ranger), banners with silver stars, an army, several houses that seemed to have latched themselves to what looked like the prospective safehouses and then darkness. And in that darkness, a fire sprouted that made Heather struggle and tremble to break the vision.

With an almighty wrench, she fell on the ground, panting, stopping the vision too late because she had seen the fire turn into a ring that surrounded a lidless eye.

It was the eye from her nightmares. What the hell was it doing in Halbarad's future?

"Gryffon!" Aragorn cried in alarm, along with several others. Halbarad was in front of her, slapping her pale cheeks lightly with his fingers.

"What did you see?" he asked. Heather found it slightly funny that he seemed more concerned about her health than his own future.

Then Aragorn was beside her, holding a cup of tea that cleared the mind. It was the tea that Draco made especially for her.

"Drink it and then we'll talk about it, hmm?" Aragorn said in a firm yet gentle tone. It was a tone that allowed for no arguments.

She drank it and the effects were instantaneous. The fog of fear and indecision cleared away from her mind. Heather vaguely registered that the cup was trembling. Oh, no. it was her hands that were trembling.

"Sorry," she said as clearly as she could. "But still, I never expected that. I should have though." She really should have. Aragorn was the subject of a prophecy, probably her equivalent for this world, and Halbarad would rather cut off his own arm than leave his captain to deal with that alone. (And really, Heather had a really good guess who owned that eye.)

"What about?" Aragorn asked and Heather had the urge to bless him or something. The man really had the patience of a Saint. If it had been any of her siblings with her, they would have bundled her up in furs and given her Dreamless sleep. Sure, that would help with the current problem but not at all with the future one. Dealing with things as they happened or before they happened was always the better way.

She waved her wandering thoughts away and answered, "You remember, my friend, of that time when I lay in your father's house, too ill to even wake up?"

Despite the situation, a little smirk made its way to Aragorns face. "Yes. And you gave Glorfindel such a hard time. Ada told me that you are even a worse patient than I am and that's saying something."

They shared a smile. And then Heather continued, "My dreams in Elronds house were not restful. Most of them were prophetic dreams but Enid said that she couldn't write them down because they were in a language no one spoke," she said. She took another breath before plowing on to the main nightmare. "But there was one dream that always made me scream. It was the image of a great lidless eye surrounded by a ring of fire."

You could have heard the scuttle of tiny insects. It was that quiet.

"It stared at me," Heather said in a rough and broken voice. "And I felt my entire body burn. It felt like it was looking at my soul to devour it. And Aragorn, my friend, I saw that eye again when I touched Halbarad."

To their credit, nobody looked at the aforementioned Ranger. They did, however, huddle closer together and away from the campfire. From the fire.

"Did you tell Ada about these dreams?" Aragorn asked. There was a cautious note in his voice that had everybody going still in the clearing.

"No. I thought those were fever dreams. But this time…" she mumbled. Heather remembered Bilbo Baggins and didn't say anything to add him into Aragorn's problems. She'd already made him worry about Halbarad.

It was an unsaid understanding that nobody said a word about the Dark Lord, or even mention him. There were very few things in Arda that spoke of darkness and only one evil in Arda ventured near devouring souls. That wouldn't mean that they would be ignoring it. It would just mean an extra watchfulness for everybody else.

"I'll take care of it," Aragorn said with firm authority. "Everybody, remember your oath. And…just be extra watchful."

He bundled Heather up in blankets and promised to stay until she could travel by herself. She gave him a faint smile and huddled down, feeling better and lighter, even if she was having a hammering headache. There were truly some things that she could only tell Aragorn and that nightmare was one of them.

As she closed her eyes, she was beyond grateful for whatever gods that led her to such a loyal friend.

If Heather thought really hard, she could dredge up the memories of how everything really started, of how, in a moment of weakness she allowed herself to just think of another option. It was when the Tri-wizard Tournament sparked all the most hateful articles and mails a person shouldn't receive, let alone a fourteen year-old girl.

Hermione wasn't there; just Luna and that probably explained how everything started.

"If you can do anything else," Luna had whispered starting the seed that began everything. "What would it be?"

Heather had been pale, with dark rings under her eyes and her hair limp and unwashed. Her soft mouth had been hardened by stress and anger. At the question, her dull eyes sparked back to life.

"I –I do like to help people," she whispered. Her voice had been hoarse then, cracked and broken from weeping the previous night. "But people have prejudices and expectations – " the word was said with venom" – and refuse help, or think that there are strings attached to the help. People, wizards really, are just too unbelievably stupid."

Luna hummed and patted her in the arm. "It's the way of the world, feather. And really, unless there's a world where nobody knows everybody else, then people will always have prejudices and expectations."

They had brushed it off then as an amusing thought. "Another world," Heather had muttered. "That would be nice."

Nonsensical, really, but it evidently stayed with Hermione after they told her since she had practically leaped at the Ritual she found in the Black Library.

"It starts with the small ideas," Dumbledore had told her once. "That usually begets the greatest and grandest events, Miss Potter. Small things that snowball into avalanches."

OMAKE: (deleted scenes?)

When Faramir met Aedan and Fenny

Faramir finally realized that his new tutors were rather strict taskmasters so a rare day-off was something that he made the most out of.

So he was seated in one of the benches that surrounded the Dancing Nymph and just basked in the feeling of doing nothing, not even thinking. And then a cold snout touched his hands and he looked down to find a really big fox looking at him with curiosity. They were eyes that were filled with intelligence.

"By Manwe," he muttered. "It's a fox."

It occurred to him, in the very back of his mind, that this probably was a test of some kind that his tutors concocted. They were very good with psychological warfare. He was still trying to understand which bit of it was the test when something else caught his attention.

It was a baby boy, small pudgy hands closed tightly around the fox's brown fur, looking at him with the same curiosity as the fox's. He was using the animal to stand straight and held absolutely no fear with regards to the hulking menace.

And then the boys green eyes caught the sunlight and Faramir relaxed. Having been taught by two people with the same shade of green, he knew that the boy was related to his Weapons tutors.

"Hello," he said, mustering up a smile in the face of really sharp fangs.

The boy grinned, showing toothless gums and adorable dimples. "'ello. Dis is Fenny."

A quick recall of rumors made him realize that the fox was named Fenny and the pet of the Lady Eilys. So this must be Aedan, the offspring of Lord Guiomer.

"Ah," he said to the boy. "Pleased to meet you, Mister Fenny. What's your name, child?"

"Aydan," the boy said, confirming his theory.

An idea entered his mind and he grinned. It was a bit mischievous but one really couldn't spend time with his tutors without gaining some mischief.

"Aedan," Faramir said carefully. "Do you know what pranks are?"

Merlin, I am soo sorry. I hate prelims and I hate output-oriented curriculums.

Questions:

The different ending to the hobbit?

Maybe. I'll check my notes, but there's a possibility that there is no such change. Some people, no matter you warn them, don't listen, especially if they're so stubborn. (Like Thorin)

The difference to the Canon HP and this one?

It's a bit long. I might make another story just to hold all that.

With the Dunlendings worshipping Heather, is she getting any power from that?

Hmm, that's a bit complicated. That'll come out in the last bits of this story, but don't forget that because that will come up, no doubt about it.

That's it, I suppose. And really, people, pairings or not, this story is gonna be EPIC! If it happens, fine. If it doesn't happen, then it's still fine. I'm not about to cheapen this story like a Harlequin only because one character looks hot in the movie.

My question this time. Should I change the pic on this story? If so, then someone make me a fanart.

Please R&R.

~Hallen

On a side note, Avalanche has finally reached three months in its posting. Thank you for your continued support, people.