T.A. 1957, February
"Oh, really?" Fleur's voice floated from the surface of the mirror. Katie frowned, before using a sleeve to wipe at a smudge that kept bothering her.
"Yes," Ron said from beside Katie. "Since the two of you are undoubtedly capable of causing all sorts of chaos in Middle-Earth on your own, we've elected to explore other continents in Arda."
"Including Valinor?"
"If we can eventually find a way to smuggle ourselves there, then maybe," Ron said. "But until then, we'll settle for the other continents. It's too risky for the two of us to be defying world-creating entities. You two might survive, but we two most assuredly won't."
"You'll take samples of everything, won't you?" Harry asked.
"What do you think we've been doing all this time, while you've just been sitting around with your subjects and being worshipped?" Ron snorted. "We've taken the DNA of just about every Middle-Earth organisms and even geological samples we've come across."
"Good, good," Harry murmured.
"Tell us about your end," Ron suggested. "What's been going on with Elsa of the Grey Mountains?"
"Elsa has taken to her queenship with vigor," Harry shrugged. "Her magical power is through the roof, currently twice as powerful as either myself or Fleur were expecting with no appearance of stopping anytime soon. When she matures she might end up at least as strong as one of you."
"What are we, side characters?" Katie muttered.
Fleur smiled fondly at her. "You'll never be replaced, Katherine. Nor you, Ronald - although you do have six siblings, so you'd technically be easier to replace than Katie."
"I thought I told you to marry Gabrielle instead, Harry," Ron complained. "She was a lot nicer, for one."
Harry snorted. "You and I would have both tired of niceness a lot quicker than Miss Casual Violence," he said, affectionately glancing at Fleur who rolled her eyes.
"Katie, Ron, you should probably visit the Wardrobe before you set out into the unknown," Fleur said, returning the conversation to what it was before. "You never know what kind of monstrosities you might discover in this new continent. Could meet Dark Elves. Someone as powerful as Galadriel, but more than willing to kill you, would not be good."
"Definitely not," Katie agreed. "We'll visit the Wardrobe before we set off. Do either of you need anything?"
"I think we're set," Harry replied. "We're not planning to dive headlong into the shadows, after all. We won't be taking on anything above our weight class."
"There isn't much above your weight class," Ron said, and Harry shrugged.
"You never know. Sauron at full power could probably beat me."
"But you have no intention of letting Sauron return to full power, are you?"
"Obviously not. Plus, if anything happens…" Harry patted a curious amber locket on his chest, a silver snake curled into the shape of an S. "I'll have good old Tom to help me out."
"Alright," Katie nodded. "I think we'll portal over to the Wardrobe tomorrow. After that, we'll be heading south. Maybe we can use the Blackbird? I'm not certain how the Valar will react to us flying a giant metal contraption at mach twelve."
"I'm sure you'd be able to outrun whatever they send after you," Harry snarked.
Fleur struck his arm. "Hopefully they won't try to erase your existence. If you're worried, you can just take the Nightmares." She was referring to the magical species of horse that they had created in a medieval Earth once upon a time.
"I think the Blackbird will do just fine," Ron said uncaringly. He'd had so many suicidal moments that thoughts regarding being obliterated by cosmic entities hardly worried him anymore. "I don't really feel like riding anymore, not when we've been doing it for two years now and I haven't found it in the slightest enjoyable."
"It's almost expected of you," Harry shrugged in response. "In fact, Fleur and I are collaborating on creating a species of horse for the Snowfolk."
"Another species of horse? Why do you need another species?"
"Because there's no food here," Harry replied. "We're building a species that won't have to feed as often, or can survive on scraps, so the Snowfolk don't have to take their horses on regular field trips to the Withered Heath for grass."
"Why haven't we created new species, Ron?" Katie muttered.
"We can always do so later," Ron replied. "We're going to be here for a while."
"Before you leave, thank Gandalf for the tea he sent us," Harry called. "That was delicious, really. I wish I had some good biscuits as well, but the tea was brilliant."
"We'll do that," Katie smiled.
Ron and Katie paused as they heard a musical chime, beautiful but sounding urgent, from the other end of the mirror-connection. Harry barely gave a glance back while Fleur looked slightly nervous. "What's that?" Katie asked.
"Warning bells," Harry replied. "We might be under attack. We'll have to go now."
"Do you need help?" Ron offered.
"Thank you, but it's alright. We don't even know if the enemy is a threat, and even if it were, Alduin should be able to handle it." Harry stood up. "Good speaking to you two again. See you soon."
"Take care," Fleur added, before the connection blinked away, leaving Katie and Ron sitting in front of a normal, polished mirror. The two warlocks looked at each other and stood up, stretching their limbs and their joints popping satisfactorily. Katie moaned in pleasure as her spine crackled.
"I'm worried for them, despite what they've said," Katie commented as they exited their room. "Angmar still exists, and it's still powerful. It's possible that an Angmari army had stumbled across the newest civilization in the north."
"Possible, but it's I doubt it's anything larger than a scouting party," Ron commented. "I don't see anything of interest in the far north for the Angmari, not when the Dwarves haven't settled those mountains yet."
"How big is Niflheim again? Just over a thousand people?" Katie sighed worriedly. "I doubt they'll go extinct, not while Harry and Katie are watching, but an enemy that's large enough might do big damage to a settlement of only that size."
"Have some faith," Ron grinned, patting her arm. "They'll do just fine."
Mithrandir, naturally, was found in the archives of Minas Anor. Although the Istar would become a total badass once he was guiding Thorin's Company or the Fellowship, right now he was a somewhat shy, and reserved wizard who still questioned his own courage and his suitability as an advisor. As a result, he was more a bookworm than warrior-mage, who shied away from attention and crowds.
Katie bounced to him, and tapped his shoulder.
"Argh!"
Ron laughed as Mithrandir almost fell out of his chair with shock. The wizard in question only gave a halfhearted glare at Katie, before clutching at his staff. "How do you walk so quietly?" He grumbled, as he picked up a few scrolls that had rolled off the table when he jumped. "You always seem to be able to sneak up on me."
"Just a few tricks we picked up a long time ago," Katie smirked.
"It shouldn't be possible to conceal your presence so thoroughly," Mithrandir muttered, though he already seemed less annoyed than before. "What can I do for the two of you?"
"Harry wanted to thank you for the tea you sent them," Katie said. Mithrandir smiled under that bushy beard, and inclined his head. "Also, we've decided to go forward with the plans we discussed with you a week or so ago. We'll give ourselves a few days to pack, then we'll head south, and cross the seas."
Mithrandir's smile disappeared and morphed into a worried frown. "I know I have already told you, but I must emphasize - I do not know what you would find in those lands. I am Maia, yet I still know not - there may be creatures too powerful for either of you to handle."
"It's possible, but I'm sure we'd be able to handle it," Ron replied.
"We do have a few tricks up our sleeves, too," Katie said mischievously.
"I have no doubt that you do, being the strangers to this world that you are," Mithrandir sighed. "You must be careful, do you understand? Both of you are powerful, but neither of you are immortal."
"Ooh, good one. I'll have to add that to my next book, Wisdom from Gandalf, Edition Two: Wait a Minute, Haven't I Heard This Before?"
Ron rolled his eyes. "He's trying to be nice, Katie."
"Yeah, he's also being repetitive."
Mithrandir sighed. These two had a very carefree air, and he wondered - truly - how they'd managed to survive long enough to come to this point. He simply shook his head and looked at the two. "You'll both be leaving on the morrow, you said?"
"Yes."
"Perhaps you'd care for a game of dice, or cards? It will be a long time for me without any competition in either of those things."
Katie smirked. "Are you volunteering to get your arse kicked? Because I don't hold back, you know. Not even for children or geriatrics."
Mithrandir sighed yet again as Katie sniggered.
Niflheim
"What's going on?" Fleur said as she approached the Queen.
"Orcs," she replied grimly. "Legions of orcs. I doubt they were intentionally seeking us out, as we are unknown to them. However, we are unknown to them no longer. Perhaps they saw the lights of our torches, and decided to raid our settlement to restock on food and supplies. Regardless, they do not seem to be here to parley."
"How many of the enemy?" Harry inquired.
"Eight hundred at most, my scouts have reported. About two hundred of them are warg-riders."
"Seems easy enough," Harry shrugged. "They'll make decent target practice for your winter magic. How are you feeling on that front?"
The Queen swallowed. Technically, she was only a year old. "Nervous."
"Don't be. You have plenty of backup. Not only do you have the Life-Mother and God-King physically standing beside you, you also have the World-Eater lounging in your guest bedroom."
The Queen gave a slight snort of amusement. The World-Eater Alduin when grown to full size might be a terrifying figure, but most of the time she was content to laze around and sleep. Harry flicked his wand from his sleeve, then summoned his war-staff from the Wardrobe. It was a sleek, smooth item, six and a sixth feet of giant sequoia wood, the rich red hues polished and engraved with runes written in platinum thread.
"You did not mention the use of a staff before," the Queen stated.
"Then let me give you a practical lesson. While wands are much more suited for fine movements and refined techniques, the mage's war-staff will provide you with much more raw power. It is to be used on a large scale, hence the name. It is rarely seen outside the hands of a qualified siege wizard, whose job is to bring down fortifications and wards as quickly as possible. It also causes significant magical drain, making it less economical than just the wand. The wand is inserted into this slot, here-" Harry demonstrated, pushing his holly superwand into a small gap at the top of the staff, "-and the staff channels much more power than the wand can by itself without burning out."
"And you will strike down the enemy with that?" The Queen asked.
He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "No. That's your job. This is a test of your capabilities, not mine. I'm just making sure none of the enemy escape to report to their superiors of this location."
"I… yes."
The small army of orcs began to hike up the slope, their footsteps mostly in sync and thundering up the hill. They slammed the butts of their polearms against the snow-covered ground. They struggled slightly as they marched in the less than ideal terrain, but their morale was high. By all appearances, the Snowfolk were small in number and should be a relatively easy enemy to defeat. Indeed, of the thousand or so of the population, only a quarter were professional soldiers.
Of course, they did not know of the magical entities standing atop the hardened walls of ice. The Queen, Fleur, and Harry stood on the parapets and watched them approach. The orcs came to a halt just outside the range of the conventional bow and arrow, not that the Snowfolk had any bowmen yet.
After a tense moment of silence, they roared in unison, slamming the butts of their weapons against the ground repeatedly. Combined with their ugly visages, Harry and Fleur understood why the orcs were feared as much as they were in this world. However, that would never be enough to deter the two of them; both of them had experienced more than their share of terrifying things.
Harry raised his staff, pointing towards the sky. Nothing seemed to happen, and the Queen was going ot inquire what Harry planned on doing, when she was suddenly lurched forward by a particularly violent gust of wind. The wind picked up as it swirled around the entire mountain; dark storm-clouds began to circle around the peak. The orcs and Snowfolk both watched tensely as the God-King of Niflheim funneled clouds into a vortex.
The orcs' chanting stopped entirely once the wind began whipping about with enough strength to lift snow from the ground and into the air. The hurricane turned into a blizzard, with a thick, impenetrable wall of ice and snow surrounding the battlefield. It was bad enough that any orcs or wargs that tried to retreat through it was pushed back into the makeshift arena.
"There is no escape now," Harry murmured.
Occasional flashes from the midst of the iron-gray clouds lit up the battlefield, followed by the rumbling of thunder audible even over the howling winds. Wargs panicked at the cracks of thunder; they were much less like the monstrous beasts and more like dogs in that regard. Harry doubted the orcs trained them all that well anyway and relied on the beasts' natural aggression for the most part. He glanced at Queen Gabrielle of Niflheim.
"Ready to rock and roll?"
"What does that mean?"
"Nothing. Just… go ahead. Feel free," he said, gesturing at the now less enthusiastic enemy. "I've no doubt that just about any magical entity on this planet will feel your magic, but Fleur and I will remain here for a while longer so you don't have to worry too much about envoys from Mordor or whatever."
The Queen nodded once, sharply, and stepped forward. She really did look like Elsa, didn't she? Did Fleur subconsciously lean towards that Disney imagery when she was building the Queen of Ice? Anyway. Harry returned his eyes to the battlefield as the Queen raised a single hand, looking out towards the orcs.
"What are your intentions here?" Elsa-Gabrielle asked.
Harry snorted, earning himself a withering look from Fleur. As if they didn't know that already.
The orcs apparently did too, although only a handful of them were smart enough to lie about it - resulting in a bit of a heated discussion among themselves. They argued for a full minute before they settled on a conclusion, appa- oh, no, wait, they were arguing again. Harry pressed his fingers to his forehead. Dunderheads, the lot of them.
"I can see that your intentions are not peaceful, in any case," Gabrielle said with a sigh. "Disappointing, but unsurprising. None of you will return to your masters to report of this place, however. Prepare yourselves."
"Wait!" One of the orcs called, his eyes widening, and then his skull was pierced by a thin icicle bursting out from underneath him.
The orcs descended into chaos as blades of ice began flowing in the air like a serpent, twisting its mass into indiscernible shapes and whittling away at the orc army. The white petals were stained black as they flew; the blood of orcs turned the snow underfoot into mush. It took them a quarter of their soldiers before one particularly large and ugly sergeant whipped the others into position, occasionally literally.
"Form ranks!" He barked. "You're going to march up that hill and you're going to fight! Remain here and I'll kill you myself!"
The orcs began to march, creating a shield wall on the flanks. Surprisingly effective against the barrage of razor-sharp ice crystals, even if a few did slip through the gaps. Of course, Gabrielle had not yet mastered control over individual blades of ice, so the ones that did make it through only managed to cause superficial damage. The warg-riders fanned out in a massive encircling move - although it was a risky gambit, considering the distance they'd have to travel and the quality of terrain, if they succeeded then Niflheim would be flanked.
"Fleur?"
"On it," Fleur responded. Her battle-armor shimmered into existence as she willed it from the Wardrobe with a single thought; dark steel plates covered red dragon-leather; her helmet was almost midnight-black, wreathed with a gold band and beautiful gold plumes erupting towards the back of it. A spear formed in her hands, seemingly made of gold except for the blade itself, the smoky ripples of which suggested it was hammered from Damascus steel.
"Guards, to me!" Fleur roared with a voice that shouldn't be possible coming from a woman of her size. "Repel the warg-riders!"
The soldiers formed two ranks of bristling wall as they quick-marched to the defensible points. After almost ridiculous time spent training under Harry, their movements were completely fluid and practiced; they reached the eastern and northern gates, the only other points available to access Niflheim without jumping over the walls (which were high enough to deter even wargs).
The orc infantry also began to split up, diverging into two columns down the middle. They marched at an angle from each other, making it more difficult for Gabrielle to target all of them at once. While orcs in general were very stupid, they were bred for war and nothing else; they were not idiots when it came to fighting. Gabrielle decided to target those in the east, since there was no western entrance and the eastern group was close to both the southern and eastern entrances. A small contingent of guards remained defending the southern entrance; Gabrielle should be enough to make up the difference.
The winds picked up once more, billowing snow up into the air, forcing it to clump together. Giants made of snow, far less refined than the Snowfolk themselves but many times larger, rose up. A single step of its massive body shook the ground; the two groups of orc infantry paused for a brief moment to stare at the monster. The Queen mentally directed the giant to attack the western group while she herself fought the eastern group; the giant immediately hobbled over to the target, trying to keep its balance on its misshapen limbs, causing the earth to quake with each step it did so.
Gabrielle sent longer, more powerful lances of ice hurtling at the orcs, strong and large enough to pierce the shields they held. For such a martial race, it was surprising that they never seemed to grasp the concept of smithing. Their equipment was of such poor quality it could probably be shredded like paper; slag-filled iron probably poured into molds to be mass-produced rather than forged. They'd endured well enough against flying shards of ice only as large as one's thumb, but they didn't do much against javelins thrown much faster than should be possible.
Meanwhile, the defenders of the western gate, along with Fleur, were driving back the warg-riders. It was only possible because Fleur was magically slowing down the enemy; if not for that, it would be very possible that any warg would manage to crash into the ranks and open a gap, even at the expense of their own lives. Once that was done, the other riders would capitalize on the gap and charge through.
The northern gate was not faring so well. The ranks that held the gate were bulging slightly at the center as manic wargs plowed into them with no regard for its own safety. One of the guards retreated back to the palace to get some much-needed assistance.
The only other magical entity that was available, was the World-Eater Alduin.
The lazy dragoness was lured outside with the promise of plentiful food. The black dragon, the size of a house cat, scrambled on top of the northern gates and watched the assault dispassionately. The guards looked desperately towards the end of their world, who showed no signs of doing anything. Then, she jumped off, took several flaps to raise herself into the sky, and grew.
On the other sides of the settlement, Harry, Fleur and Gabrielle all felt a powerful pulse of magic rush over the entire hillside and likely out towards the rest of Middle-Earth, if not all of Arda. So much for keeping a low profile. The magic was familiar to Harry and Fleur - it felt somewhat like the sun; primordial, extremely powerful, and extremely destructive.
Alduin had grown to well over two hundred feet in length from crown to tail; the wingspan was possibly of similar length. The wargs took sight, and immediately tucked their tails between their legs and began to flee, recognizing the apex predator of all apex predators before anyone else. That didn't save them. As the orcs were thrown off their mounts, Alduin swooped in, wind whistling over her massive wings, and opened her maw to produce a storm of malicious green flame.
Snow evaporated completely as the wargs were burned into jerky. Alduin soared high again, before setting her eyes on the snow golem and the hundred or so orcs still fighting with it. She dived, and crash-landed into their midst, trampling several dozens of the orcs to their gory deaths and knocking all others off their feet; the snow golem collapsed from the force of it. Gabrielle watched in horrified awe as Alduin mauled a dozen orcs with talons as long as swords and swallowed a dozen more with a single snap of her massive jaws.
"That's my girl," Harry said smugly.
The mere glare of the dragoness petrified the orcs; that made it much easier for her to reach out casually and pluck them off the ground between her scorched and blackened teeth. Her spiked tail, occasionally flitting out distractedly much like a cat's, accidentally destroyed ranks of orc infantry. Once she'd had her fill (which, at this size, amounted to several hundred orcs) she decided to decimate the remainder through green fire.
"I wish the corpses remained preserved, but oh well," Harry sighed.
"Fields of the Dead?" Fleur's eyes narrowed at him as she returned, her helmet under her arm. "I told you the last time that I didn't want any foul magic specifically near our home."
"It's not foul magic," Harry dismissed. "It's intent-based, much like the wards you drew on the palace itself."
"That doesn't involves corpses being used as a defense."
"It's a passive defense."
"I don't care. It makes me uncomfortable, and it should make you uncomfortable too." Fleur glared at him, daring him to push further. Harry didn't. Like he said, the corpses were all destroyed anyway, so he couldn't do what he wanted regardless.
"Well," Harry changed the topic. "Now that we've successfully defended our newest nation-state, we'll need to worry about possible shady characters coming to enquire about the massive magic pulse that Alduin sent out while showboating. I suppose we'd have to wait a few months in case anyone comes, but after that, do you want to go to Erebor?"
That day, several beings felt the pulse.
In Gondor, Mithrandir only shook his head in exasperation, chalking it up to another one of Harry and Fleur's antics (he wasn't entirely wrong).
Towards the east, Saruman, who had then been meeting with the Dwarf-Lords of the Iron Hills, had felt the pulse in the midst of court, leaving him disoriented for a moment. What was that? It was fire-magic, no doubt, but from so far north and so powerful? He knew the Withered Heath was a breeding ground for dragons, but this was far too powerful a pulse coming from any dragon in existence. Such magic could only come from the first dragons, but surely none of the distilled dragons that existed nowadays.
Lady Galadriel of the Golden Wood was unfortunate enough to be scrying in her mirror when the pulse occurred. Her Sight was disrupted by the pulse, ripping her out of her visions and leaving her confused, dazed, and with a throbbing headache as she was helped to her arms by elf-maidens who had heard her cry of pain. Her husband, Lord Celeborn, heard of this and went to assist, and found a still-confused Galadriel who, in her addled state, returned to her very old habits of swearing like a sailor, and giggled at Celeborn's approach, asking him in no uncertain terms if he'd like to try to have another baby (the elf-maidens promptly ran awy, red-faced, from the courtyard). While Celeborn appreciated the sentiment considering his wife was platonic even for elf standards, he was worried about her, and about the potential threat in the north. He too had felt the magic, far more powerful than anything else he'd ever felt in the recent centuries, and such a display felt almost challenging - a statement to the ruling lords of Middle-Earth. Would it become a threat in the near future?
King Thranduil certainly thought so. As close to the Grey Mountains as he was of all the Elf-Lords, he had recognized the dragon-magic for what it was, and dragons were generally no good; vain, selfish and greedy. He had no way of knowing that Alduin was merely vain, but like Celeborn, he recognized the power as a display of sorts, or a challenge. Fearing that the entirety of Mirkwood might be burned down as well as the remainder of Middle-Earth, he gave a call to the other elven settlements to gather their most experienced warriors on an expedition to the Withered Heath.
The Witch-King of Angmar was having similar thoughts. The orcs under his command had been decimated. He knew no more than that, but of that much he was certain of, considering the sudden disappearance of several hundred connections to his soldiers in his mind. As the Witch-King cared nothing for their deaths, the severing of the connections did not hurt, only acting as a notification that they'd died. Being so aligned with shadow and necromancy as he was, the Witch-King tasted the powerful life magic infused with fire; it had caused him nausea as it passed. Dragons, as a general rule, were more aligned with death than they were with life; so what had created that pulse?
Finally, a single necromancer in the south of Mirkwood spasmed as the magic washed over him briefly. The weakened spirit retreated to the depths of Dol Guldur as it tried to recover. The magic, though fire-aligned, differed so greatly from the fires of Mount Doom or the Ash Mountains to be comfortable in any way. It certainly wasn't created by anything or anyone he knew; he'd tasted Morgoth's magic before, vile and horrific even to his standards for Morgoth strived to unravel all that could be created; that meant a new player had joined the game. But whom? His mind suddenly flashed back to the four stars that had fallen to the ground two years ago. It must be. But just how powerful were they, if they blatantly announced their arrival and were not decimated by the Valar for disrupting their perfect little creation?
The Necromancer vowed to redouble the efforts of recovering his favorite ring.
T.A. 1958, January
Queen Gabrielle of the Snowfolk was not sure what to think of this particular development.
Harry and Fleur had ended up leaving almost half a year ago now, since no envoys from other nations had arrived in six months since the attack by orcs. It had turned out that this was not due to fear, or indifference, but because of simple bureaucracy. Even the tree-huggers like elves apparently had pointless meetings and debates and the subject of their 'dragon-hunting' expedition was one of them. Thus, almost a year later, an army of veteran elf warriors had arrived on Niflheim's doorstep, with two Istari in tow.
Gabrielle had long since decided that she didn't like Saruman. Or Thranduil. Both of them seemed offended at Gabrielle's lack of recognition of the two of them on sight, as if she hadn't been born a mere two years ago. The wizard known as Gandalf seemed nice enough, and he recognized the Snowfolk - now that he mentioned it, Gabrielle recalled from Harry and Fleur of a grey-robed wizard called Mithrandir, who had been in touch with their two friends before they decided to jump continents.
Thranduil's nose was permanently stuck up into the air, while Saruman (at least in Gabrielle's mind) appearing to do his best to keep his sneer from showing. Harry had told her once that Saruman was one to watch out for, and Gabrielle now wholeheartedly agreed with that sentiment. They were now convened in the Throne Room, whereupon Gabrielle strode to her throne of ice and sat. She stared at Thranduil, elf guards, and the two wizards.
"So, what do you want?" She asked bluntly.
One of the elf guards glared. "You would not offer a seat to even the King of Mirkwood?"
Gabrielle glared back. "Strange. It appears to me that you and your people have marched, armed, to my doorstep, pushed yourselves into my home, and are now expecting me to cater to you as I would welcome guests."
Gabrielle could hear Thranduil grinding his teeth from all the way across the room. Good thing elves had perfect teeth, or he'd be spending a fortune on dentists.
"We are here, as we have cause to believe that a massive threat has arisen in this region," Saruman said imperiously. "A threat any novice in magic would have felt about a year ago. You yourselves have appeared out of seemingly nowhere in very recent years. Perhaps there's a connection?"
Gabrielle could feel a little of her (technically) mother's hotheadedness coming through. "And if there was? How do you plan to stop us?" She replied in the most condescending tone she could manage. Judging by the looks on Thandy's and Sarumankey's faces, it was working pretty well. "You yourself said it was a massive threat. You think you and your toy soldiers can defeat it?"
"Watch your tongue, woman," one of the elves (probably the same one as before) barked. "You are not cooperating with the King of Mirkwood - and he takes insubordinance very seriously."
"I must be mistaken - surely I didn't just hear a threat to my body in my own home, where I am at the heart of my power?" Gabrielle channeled as much inner Fleur as she could, putting steel into her voice. The elf recoiled slightly, and she grinned inwardly in satisfaction. "I shall answer several of your questions, as I am feeling generous, and we the Snowfolk cannot live in isolation forever. Speak, and I may answer."
"Where did you come from?" Saruman barked.
"I came from the Snow," Gabrielle said simply, gesturing around her. "Two years ago, the Life-Mother and the God-King, two warlocks of immense power, visited the Grey Mountains. The God-King created bodies of snow and animated them, but in his raw strength he created a sentient race - us. The Life-Mother, unwilling to abandon us to a lesser form of life, created for us improved bodies and the method to reproduce. They have left about half a year ago, unfortunately, but they have taught us what we need and more to run a nation."
"And the magic we felt the previous year was caused by your God-King and Life-Mother?" Saruman asked.
"No. That was caused by their daughter, the World-Eater Alduin," she replied, and felt satisfaction as her guests' faces contorted ever so slightly with… nervousness? Fear? She'd take whatever she could get, anyway. "The World-Eater is a black dragoness of immense proportions, bathing her enemies in green flames. Each of her claws is as long as a man's sword, and very gaze freezes men and orc alike in terror so that she may easier kill them. She is so powerful that the God-King had to create a chain from his very soul so that she would not go on a rampage - and when the God-King dies, and the chain breaks, Alduin will grow and devour the world in her hunger."
"The Valar would not allow that to happen," Saruman snorted and spoke in absolute certainty.
"Oh?" Gabrielle raised a shapely eyebrow. "You should watch your tongue, wizard. Alduin does not take insults to her pride very kindly, and she is sitting right behind you."
The guests whirled around so quickly it was comical, and they were indeed greeted by a dragon the size of a small truck. The red eyes glared balefully at the guests, who had all paled. The dragon had not been there when they entered, and the massive creature had somehow managed to enter the throne room undetected to the sharp ears of the elves and the magic of two wizards.
The scaled menace huffed, perhaps with amusement, as it examined the newcomers. These people were new - the scent of them likely interested her. One elf soldier snapped out of his daze and drew an admittedly beautiful blade, and the others flinched at the sudden rise in tension.
"Put that away!" Gabrielle snapped. "Do you have a death wish?"
The poor elf shivered in his greaves as the black dragoness' head swerved to face him, glowing red eyes reflecting his terror. She didn't get physically larger - but as if she fed on the elf's fear, her presence grew, dominating the room and casting an impossibly large shadow. The eyes burned in fury, and a low growl began eminating from the bottom of her throat.
"Do as she says," Thranduil hissed. The sword was put away, and the tension eased slightly.
"While Alduin remains in our home as a guest, I am not her mistress." Gabrielle spoke coldly. "Any further threats to her life may irritate her until she does something I cannot prevent. Think before you act."
"This meeting was an utter waste of time," Saruman huffed. "We should leave."
"Please do," Gabrielle said dryly. "I have better things to do than parley with a group of idiots whose collective ego could feed the World-Eater for ten thousand years."
"You dare-!"
Gabrielle's patience ran out and she stood up. "I may be young, much younger than any of you, but firstly, I am powerful, and second, this is my home. Should you not leave Niflheim right this moment, I will not hesitate to lace up my shitkickers and give you a good demonstration of just how hard I can kick."
The audience was stunned into silence by the crude language coming from the Queen. Saruman snorted, muttering something uncouth under his breath, as he left. Thranduil said no more, his face set in stone, and simply spun around to leave. His guards followed him.
"And don't come back unless you return with an apology!" Gabrielle called after him. "Gandalf, you may stay, if you so wish."
"Why, it would be my pleasure," Gandalf said, with a hesitant smile. He seemed to have greatly enjoyed the altercation, although he didn't want to admit that.
"I have heard much about you, Gandalf Gray-Hame. You were friends of Ron and Katie? I am unfortunately yet to meet them myself, but they are close friends of my mother and her husband. Should we retire to my office? I can serve you drinks…"
"That would be lovely, my Queen," Gandalf smiled. "I also have a few questions I am burning to ask…"
A/N: Well, that's chapter three. It hasn't been a month since the last update so... yay? I haven't managed to break the already strained schedule yet. Hope you guys liked it. Do leave a comment if you have a query or feedback.