Meanwhile

"My spidey senses are tingling," Harry murmured.

"Shut the fuck up," Fleur smacked him hard on the head. "Seriously, shut up. You say that every single time I get undressed. And it's not as if I can't see your 'spidey senses' anyways!"

Harry gave a smirk as he opened his legs just a little bit wider. Fleur pointedly did not look at him, instead shrugging on her silk shirt and her thick, warm overalls on top. Erebor was not a volcano as far as they could tell, and it could get a bit chilly in its depths.

"Get dressed."

"Not until you look at me."

"I'll never look at you until you get dressed, you pervert."

Harry sighed, rolling his eyes and getting up on his feet to do exactly that. "Fine, then. Yesterday, we found the Arkenstone. Now there's literally nothing more to do here. You said you wanted to leave a parting gift for the dwarves that will eventually come visit. What did you have in mind?"

"I want to carve an iconic scene from an Earth religion, like the Last Supper, into stone," Fleur said, gesturing to the far end of the great dining hall. "See how they would interpret the single scene, accompanied with maybe a single line of explanation."

"What about the crucifixion?" Harry suggested. "Odin's hanging? Kronos devouring his children? The aliens building the pyramids?"

"Aliens didn't build pyramids, Harry, you know that. It was a cooperative effort between paid laborers and Egyptian wizards."

"What's not to say we're aliens?"

"We are aliens, you dork. On Arda at least."

"That means we're practically obligated to prop up a sham of a democracy infested by lizard-people."

"Harry…"

"Yes, Fleur?"

"Be silent."

Harry shook his head, wondering why Fleur still hadn't learned to appreciate his humor over thirty-something hundred years of time together. He did some light reading while Fleur began to transfigure the far wall of the dining hall into a precise and artistic collection of statues. While it was still in its infancy, Harry could make out two figures, one of which was man-sized and the other was much larger. A dragon, perhaps? With all the dragons he'd encountered, though, the novelty of such beasts were disappearing quickly.

Fleur continued to work for a few more hours, humming to herself all the while. Harry wondered how she managed to remember so many different tunes, from start to finish, as he listened to an entire album's worth of Led Zeppelin as he did some light reading. Fleur had finished the approximate image in about an hour and a half, and now she was just working on the precise details.

"Harry, can you get me the Iron Man suit?" Fleur asked. "I want to put it on Tony, here." She gestured to a perfect stone replica of Robert Downey Jr. in a suitably heroic pose.

So she was carving out an Iron Man sequence? "Sure," Harry shrugged, as he opened a portal to the Wardrobe and willed the House-Elves within to bring him the Mk. II armor. It was the simplest and one he was least attached to. Although Harry had attempted to make it as close to authentic as possible, it was still somewhat bulkier than depicted in the films. So many machines and components did not fit into each other that easily.

Soon enough, with the telltale pop of apparition, the silver Mk. II armor appeared in Middle-Earth, having been flung out of the portal. Harry cast an arresto momentum with his fingers before the armor skidded along the surface of the floor and got scratches all over it. He carefully levitated the suit over to Fleur, who smiled at him. "Thanks."

"No problem," Harry replied as Fleur dismantled the suit and began working it onto good old Tony. He went back to reading (Machiavellian's The Prince, something he'd been meaning to read for about twenty lifetimes and had never bothered) while Fleur polished off her work.

"So, what do you think?" She said after a moment. Harry stood up and went to inspect the work.

Iron Man was standing defiantly against a water-wyrm that dwarfed even Alduin at her current full size. Churning waves surrounded the beast in exquisite detail, even the froth and the subtle undercurrents. The beast itself was similarly detailed, individual scales carved with incredible technique that could have only come about after centuries of practice. The beast had one eye on one side of its head and three on the other.

"'The greatest tinker of Men, Iron Man, stands against the beast Leviathan'," Harry read the steel plaque just behind the armored statue of Tony Stark. "Did you just rip off Worm?"

"I did," Fleur admitted shamelessly. "I may also be ripping off the Simurgh in the near future."

"As long as we're in a world where we won't be sued," Harry shrugged.

"Do you think the dwarves will be impressed by titanium-steel alloys?" Fleur asked.

"Is that the only reason you chose to use the Iron Man suit?"

"Maybe. I know that the dwarves are master smiths, so I wanted their completely unbiased opinion of more modern technology," Fleur shrugged. "I realize that titanium-steel alloys have nothing on magical metals, like goblin-steel or Mithril, but it's still an impressive feat."

"I bet I could do better anyway," Harry muttered.

"I'm sure you could, but you'd need the best materials you can find," Fleur said. "Mithril first and foremost. I'm sure you could plate it on top of steel or something of the sort."

"Perhaps," Harry grunted. "But steel is an invention from centuries before we were born. We need something befitting our status as space-age warlocks. I'm interested in Adamantium, but that obviously doesn't exist in this world, and I reckon I can do one better."

"Dragon-steel?" Fleur suggested.

"Hardly a revolutionary concept, but a useful one. I'm sure I can get Alduin to cooperate with that…" and as he usually did when this topic was brought up, Harry began mumbling to himself about his grand designs. Fleur chuckled to herself and turned away, knowing Harry would be invovled in his little soliloquy for a while. Instead, she opted to distract herself with her newest trophy.

She pulled out a rough, uncut stone from her pocket that seemed to glow with unearthly power. It looked like a supernova had gone off inside the stone, and the lights swirled within like magic. Though she'd used a high-powered gemino charm to replace it, the result just wasn't the same - it was duller, smaller, and didn't have that same sparkle - although the fake was still beautiful. For all she knew, it could be magic; she could detect just enough of it that she was reasonably certain of it. Harry was still helping her work out just how to cut the stone, to make it fit on Ravenclaw's Diadem and still have as much as possible left over, to create a pendant or something similar.

Their next destination was going to be Mirkwood. This would be their first encounter with the immortal denizens of this world, the Firstborn. Perhaps if they made a good impression, they might be able to learn a few secrets from the elves; healing was one area they were reputable in, having saved Frodo from the wound of a Morgul-blade; Harry would undoubtedly be interested in learning smithing techniques from them, too. Of course, making a good first impression with Thranduil would mean they'd also have goodwill from Galadriel, Elrond, and Cirdan the Shipwright, all of them undoubtedly learned in many fields.

"So, Harry," Fleur said, and Harry looked up at her. "Will you help me make cut the Arkenstone now?"

"Of course. I have nothing better to do," Harry shrugged. "Dobby. Please summon my diamond saw from the Wardrobe…"

T.A. 1958, March

A legion of a hundred elves marched along the River Celduin. Towards the north, the Lonely Mountain stood solitary. Their trip to the Grey Mountains had… not gone well. Thranduil ground his teeth yet again at the memory of being verbally thrown out of Niflheim by the Queen of Ice. He did not desire war, far from it; his realm was being threatened by darkness as it were, and he didn't need more enemies on top of that, much less a dragon to deal with. Furthermore, the population of the so-called Snowfolk numbered just higher than a thousand, hardly a threat on their own.

The faint layer of frost upon the soil was disturbed only slightly by the elves' inconsiderable weight. It was starting to get warmer. Perhaps Thranduil would have had a greater advantage in that… confrontation (for there were no other words to describe such an aggressive parley) if he'd hailed during summer? No, likely not. The Snowfolk were sustained by sorcery as much as they were sustained by the snow.

"My King!"

"Haldir?" Thranduil turned to look at his trusted lieutenant. "What is the problem?"

"There are two unknown figures approaching our column," he said crisply as he continued to march alongside Thranduil's elk. "They do not seem to be armed. Perhaps they are wanting to join us for protection?"

"Are they men?"

"At least one of them are, my King. But the other, a fair-haired maiden, radiates a glow much like the elves." He continued to march, not even bothered by the marching they'd been doing since dawn, not even breathles. "What are your orders?"

"If the maiden is an elf, then it would be unwise, not to mention dishonorable, to leave her alone without protection," Thranduil said softly. "Let us make camp. It is almost noon, regardless, and the soldiers should perhaps like a meal."

"Yes, my King," Haldir bowed slightly, somehow managing it mid-step. "I shall greet the elf-maiden and her follower."

"Very well," Thranduil said.

The column halted and began to set up camp. They would not be building fires, that was unnecessary for it was still light. The soldiers simply divided themselves into rings of ten each, their respective companies, and began to eat. Their serious mood disappeared and they began to joke and laugh. Thranduil remained upon his elk. It would not do for a King to dismount to greet guests.

He ground his teeth together again, reminded of that humiliation with that Ice Queen.

"Lady Fleur, Harry son of James," Thranduil noted with amusement that Haldir did not use an honorific for the Man, "you stand in the presence of Elvenking Thranduil of the Woodland Realm."

Lady Fleur, who was indeed fair-haired as Haldir described (perhaps even as light as his own hair) curtseyed expertly, while the black-hooded man nodded stiffly. Thranduil's eyes narrowed at him, as did Haldir's. Thranduil chose to take a deep breath and turned to the elf-maiden instead. When she looked up at him, he was surprised.

She looked… young. She lacked the characteristic high cheekbones that elves often had, and was not nearly as tall as the average elf. Still, she did indeed glow, ever so slightly, like an elf would, and she was beautiful even by elf standards. Her skin was flawless and her figure was taut, and if Thranduil did not detect the age in her eyes, he would have guessed her to have barely reached adulthood. To say nothing of the tiara that she wore - the silver was wrought into the shape of an eagle, and two stones glowed, somewhat eerily, with an inviting white light that he'd never seen in a gemstone.

"Elvenking Thranduil," she spoke in a musical voice with an accent he could not quite place. "It is an honor to meet you. Your reputation, as great as it may be, does not do you justice."

Thranduil swallowed subtly (he was quite certain nobody had caught that) and nodded in return. "The same to you, Lady Fleur. From whence do you hail?"

"I hail from the far north, my King," she said. By Valar, he could listen to her speak all day. "My retainer and I have been traveling for some time now. I had thought to visit your kingdom, having heard the reputations of its splendor; to have found you on our way was quite the pleasant surprise." She was difficult to read, but the last part contained a hint of surprise; she was telling the truth.

"How long have you traveled, my Lady?" He asked.

"Decades," she said cryptically. "A few months ago, we stopped on the peak of the Lonely Mountain. If you have an opportunity, you should do so as well. The view is simply breathtaking."

"I will take your word on that, Lady Fleur," Thranduil acknowledged. "We are returning to Greenwood. I take you and your… servant, would like to join us? It would be safer for you."

The man snorted, and Thranduil exercised all his restraint not to strike the man down where he stood; at the very least, the glare that Lady Fleur sent his way was smoldering. Her polite, mysterious smile returned when she looked at him, though. "Your offer is too kind, my King. I will gladly join you on your return trip."

Thranduil allowed a slight smile to grace his lips. "Excellent. Haldir?" The elf in question snapped to attention. "Lady Fleur, I'm sure, would like to find some female company. Assign Tauriel to serve her."

"Yes, my King," Haldir bowed deeply, and took off. Fleur made yet another perfect curtsey, while the infuriating servant did not even bother to acknowledge him.

When Haldir returned alone, Thranduil dismounted and sighed. "That servant of hers… he is not a servant at all, is he?"

"I doubt it, my King."

"He is not even pretending to be a servant."

"He seems resigned. Like the Lady Fleur dragged him into doing so," Haldir smirked slightly. "While his lack of respect is bothersome, it is also true that Lady Fleur has him completely under control."

"Maidens will do that," Thranduil chuckled. "How did Tauriel react to guard duty?"

"Pleasantly surprised, my King."

Thranduil raised a single perfect eyebrow. "Truly?"

"...no, I was kidding. She was annoyed. Although I commend her on her effort to hide her irritation, if not the actual results."

Thranduil barked out a laugh. "That's more like it. I hope she didn't expect to be treated differently from any other soldier, except that she was the only reasonable candidate for guarding an elf-maiden. Or treated differently because she only turned one-hundred two years ago."

"I'm sure she'll get over it, my King," Haldir dismissed. "I'm also certain Lady Fleur is a skilled conversationalist."

"Oh? What can you tell me, Haldir?"

"She is much older than she appears. Thus, also much wiser and much more experienced. She is also a sorceress, not unlike the Lady Galadriel."

Thranduil stiffened. "How do you know this? Is she a threat?"

"I know this because she told me. I do not believe she is a threat; she is perfectly mannered and understands she and her servant are guests in our presence. She also claims she has been wanting to meet you and see your kingdom for some time; I do not believe she was lying when she said so."

"I understand." Thranduil smiled. "Very well. Let her stay. Meanwhile, Haldir, perhaps you could indulge me in a game of chess."

Tauriel stared in mixed fascination and irritation at the elf-maiden who had suddenly become her newest charge. She was feeling conflicted. She felt awe, certainly; the fair-haired maiden was beautiful in every sense of the word; the way her face was sculpted, the way she held herself and spoke, and if she dared be so blunt… the way her body curved. All of these, truthfully, made Tauriel feel awe. And no small amount of jealousy.

Despite the girl (and Tauriel couldn't really find a way to refer to her otherwise) being half a foot shorter than herself, she constantly felt like she was being looked down upon. And the problem was, Tauriel had to constantly remind herself not to bow and scrape before her. She might be young, damn it, but she was one of the best scouts that Thranduil had!

And to say nothing about that infuriating servant. He didn't even try to hide the fact that he was ogling her behind. When she'd stiffly pointed out what he was doing, he had only smirked and complimented her on whatever exercise regime she did to keep up her figure. She had never known that a compliment, given in any other context, could make her feel so dirty.

King Thranduil had continued the march until nightfall, and to her disappointment, the two shorter figures had not been left behind in the dust. In fact, they seemed just as capable, if not more, as the elves in marching. Tauriel was not very happy with having to share her tent (which she often used alone, for she was the only female in her company) with the stranger.

Inside the tent, with a single elven candle - the difference between ordinary and elven candles being that the latter glowed brighter, for longer, with a pale white light - illuminated both herself and her unsolicited guest. Tauriel was extremely uncomfortable. The last half-hour had been spent in silence, during which the woman seemed content to simply stare at Tauriel the whole time, with a ghost of a smile gracing her perfect mouth.

"Can I help you?" Tauriel finally asked.

"Perhaps," Fleur - Tauriel refused to use an honorific with her - smiled wider. "You can tell me a little about yourself. I know nothing about you except that you have a lovely name."

Tauriel hesitated. "Thank you," she answered, unsure how to feel about that. "What would you like to know?"

"Mm. Perhaps how old you are? Your goals or aspirations? What you enjoy doing in your free time?"

"I am one-hundred-and-two years old," Tauriel said firmly. "Before you ask why I'm trying to be a soldier, I have been training with weapons since I was eleven. That is much younger than most elves try to begin training. I have proved my worth since I were still not of age."

"I wasn't going to question your skill, Tauriel," Fleur laughed softly - and Tauriel felt her dislike of the maiden fade away a little bit.

"Thank you. Too many people do that," Tauriel grumbled. "You're only a child, Tauriel. You're a maiden, Tauriel."

"It is in the nature of males to want to see their females protected," Fleur gestured dismissively. "To see them layered in silk and locked away in a gilded cage. You will face that stigma for the rest of your life, I'm afraid."

"Did you face similar treatment, then?" Tauriel wondered.

"Occasionally, yes. Where I grew up, it wasn't too bad. Still there, but the effects minimal. See, I am a sorceress, from a family of sorcerers. Magic tends to negate any physical advantage males possess over females."

"You're a witch?" Tauriel's eyes widened.

"A little more complicated than that, but that's the essence of it, yes." She smiled yet another mysterious smile as her fingers grazed the flame. "Perhaps you'd care for a demonstration?"

Before Tauriel could say anything, the maiden clamped her fist over the flame, sending the interior of the tent into darkness. Tauriel blinked, and could barely make out Fleur bringing her closed fist to her lips; she whispered, a gentle sound like a breeze flowing through the leaves, and unclenched her fingers. A brilliant white bird leaped off her palm, soaring through the inside of the tent, making strangely expressive aerial maneuvers. Tauriel hoped that Fleur didn't hear the soft gasp that she made, but she probably did.

The bird, with a strangely long tail, landed on top of the candle once more, only to flare into a simple flame once more. The candle continued to burn as if nothing had happened. Tauriel's eyes, wide in wonder, looked from the candle up to the enigmatic smile that once again graced the maiden's lips.

"How?"

"There are several ways to accomplish magic," Fleur shrugged. "I was born with it. You, it seems, were not. If you wish to perform sorcery, it will be much more difficult for you."

"Are you like Lady Galadriel?" Tauriel found herself asking. "Can you read the future?"

"I can do some scrying, yes," Fleur replied. "Although I doubt my skills are anywhere close to her, from what I have heard of her."

Tauriel looked up from the woman's mouth - it was truly a work of art, the Valar must have paid special attention to craft her - to her eyes. The eyes, a beautiful, sparkling aquamarine, threatened to drag Tauriel's mind into a world of dreams. Then she noticed something just as beautiful as the eyes, in the center of Fleur's forehead. Tauriel had never been interested in jewelry, but she had to ask.

"What is that?"

"Ravenclaw's Diadem? An interesting artifact from my home-land." Fleur smiled. "A trinket I liked and thought to keep. Nothing more."

"But the stone…"

"Ah, the stone, yes." Fleur's tone seemed proud to show it off. "They used to be sapphires, but after Harry found me a beautiful stone from the belly of the Lonely Mountain, I asked him to replace those with it. He called it the Arkenstone - Heart of the Mountain, and I think it's a beautiful name for a beautiful object. I can sense a little magic in it, too - he and I are working together to figure out just what this magic is."

"Pardon me, my Lady," Tauriel's mouth started running without her permission - and did she just use an honorific for the maiden?! - "but if you're such a powerful sorceress, why do you need a servant?"

Fleur laughed. It was a beautiful laugh that made Tauriel feel ugly in comparison, but she couldn't muster the will to be jealous, not when the melodious sound filled her entire mind. "He's not actually my servant, even if he is very sweet on me and will totally do whatever I ask him to. No, he's my… lifelong partner, shall I say. He's very precious to me."

Tauriel gaped. A man like that? Surely she joked. This woman… more beautiful than anyone Tauriel had ever seen, elves included, was willing to choose that heavily scarred, and from what she could see, entirely disrespectful man?

"He isn't just what he appears to be, of course," Fleur said, as if she'd read Tauriel's mind. Tauriel suddenly felt very small as she realized she, with her magic, might be doing just that - granted, Tauriel didn't know much about magic, but she was intelligent enough to recognize it as a threat. "He's accomplished so much more than you'd believe… for both good and bad. To me, though, he's been nothing but kind."

"I… see."

"Yes, indeed," Fleur said with an amused tone that told Tauriel that she knew Tauriel didn't see. "Shall we rest, now?"

"Yes, let's," Tauriel agreed. She lay down on the straw mat that elven soldiers carried. Fleur flicked her fingers at it - and suddenly, it (and impossibly, the ground below it as well) were just as soft as the beds at home. It didn't take her long to fall asleep.

"Look at him!"

Harry sighed. "I can see just as well as you can."

"Look! Look at him! He's so cute!"

Legolas squirmed uncomfortably in Fleur's grip. His father, Thranduil, only smirked slightly at his son's situation; he, as a eighty-one year old, was going through that phase of adolescent rebellion… constantly sneaking out on patrol without his father's knowledge, taking out his father's elk on joyrides, and perhaps most importantly, flirting with every elf-maiden he could find.

Thranduil wasn't feeling very sympathetic.

"Such a handsome boy," Fleur cooed. Legolas panicked as she leaned in and kissed his cheek. "I can't believe I got to meet teenage Legolas. You can call me Auntie Fleur, sweetheart."

"Er, yes, um, Auntie Fleur," Legolas stammered.

Tauriel snickered when Fleur pulled Legolas' arm into her - admittedly impressive - chest, and Legolas' face turned bright red. Though, she noted, he wasn't trying to resist anymore. Harry watched on with an exasperated amusement, watching his… partner's, antics.

"Have you been working out, Legolas? I can feel the muscles," Fleur whispered into his ear as she squeezed his bicep. "Have you found a girlfriend yet?"

"Er, I haven't been working out, specifically," Legolas said with red ears. "And no, I haven't found a… girlfriend."

"Well, you're a little young for me," Fleur shrugged carelessly. "But elves become of age at one hundred, right? You can come visit me in… how long?"

"Nineteen years," Harry supplied helpfully.

"Right. Once you become of age, you can seek me out anytime you'd like," Fleur shot him a decidedly vulpine grin. Legolas swallowed hard and nodded, unable to trust himself to speak without his voice cracking.

"Lady Fleur?" Thranduil asked softly, giving Legolas a moment of reprieve (did Tauriel detect a little bit of disappointment on his face when Fleur turned away from him? Surely not) and gathering the two guests' attention. "You are welcome, of course, to speak with my son, but first I'd like to introduce you to your guest quarters."

"I'll take Lady Fleur!" Tauriel said immediately. Thranduil gave her an expressionless glance, but nodded.

"Very well. Tauriel, please find Lady Fleur quarters befitting her station," Thranduil said. The king watched impassively as she was escorted away by Tauriel. His narrowed gaze focused on Harry once they were out of earshot. "As for you…"

"Hm?" Harry wondered with a grin.

"You have been nothing but disrespectful to the Elvenking, cur," Haldir said grimly and drew his blade. "Did you think your behaviors would not be noted? That the Elvenking would grant you his hospitality after insult upon insult? You, my friend, are going to the cells."

A moment of utter shock passed across Harry's face (during which Thranduil felt very pleased) but that was quickly replaced with a look of amusement. "Really? You think you can take me on in a duel?" Harry grasped at the air above his head and, to Haldir and Thranduil's shock, pulled free a blade from nowhere.

"Sorcerer," Haldir said grimly.

"Yup," Harry smirked. "I won't do any magic tricks, if you're worried. I could beat you without them."

"Truly," Haldir drawled as he cut the air with his beautifully-made elven blade. Harry's sword, a rather simple long-sword, was clutched in two hands. "Mannish steel. I admire their effort, but I can never put my trust in it."

"Whatever you say," Harry said dismissively. "Come at me, bro."

Haldir obliged. He rushed at Harry with inhuman speed, and Harry only managed to raise his sword to block. Of course, right before the blades connected, Haldir's sword glowed faintly with a pale light and when he struck, Harry was knocked back like a cannonball and crashed into a tree so hard that it splintered the trunk and groaned as it fell. Haldir watched in shock as Thranduil blinked. It was only due to elven ears that they picked up the faint female giggling from a nearby copse of trees. It sounded like Tauriel and - the likely culprit behind this phenomenon - Lady Fleur.

T.A. 1958, September

Legolas had felt that Greenwood had changed since the arrival of their two guests. It wasn't necessarily good, or bad, simply a bit of excitement when there was none. For this, Legolas was grateful, although he also wished Lady Fleur would stop treating him as if he were twenty years old.

Master Harry (and wasn't that a peculiar name? Although when Legolas had brought that up, Harry had simply sneered and called him 'Leggy', and Legolas had learned his lesson after that) was taken to the dungeons after, according to rumor, being sent flying from here to the southern edge of Mirkwood by Haldir when the latter blasted the man with a crack of lightning. He well remembered the time he'd scurried away from Lady Fleur and went to complain to his friends, only to be interrupted by what indeed sounded like thunder and a massive crash that could probably be heard from the Lonely Mountain.

Of course, being locked up didn't seem to be a problem for him, since he simply… walked out? Nobody ever witnessed him leave the cells, but his father, King Thranduil, had simply resigned to his fate after the tenth time that Harry had been witnessed at his dining table for breakfast, or flirting with a cute elf-maiden, or training with Haldir in the courtyard. Of course, there was also that one time an infatuated elf-maiden had slept in his cell, rather than Harry visit her rooms.

Legolas had once overheard the prison guards joke that elf children were becoming increasingly rare… but that may change yet.

Thranduil was getting on well with Lady Fleur. It had come as a shock to both of them that Lady Fleur and Master Harry did not actually know how to speak Sindarin, they were simply using a spell to make them sound like whatever the other was used to speaking in. Thus, Legolas was pushed to the unfortunate role of teaching Lady Fleur and Master Harry how to speak Sindarin, at Lady Fleur's personal request. More than once Legolas had complained to his father about what terrible students the two of them were. His father had shrugged, but Legolas was certain he was enjoying his discomfort. Really, was riding his elk such a big deal?

This also meant he was charged with the unfortunate task of waking up Master Harry and Lady Fleur. The former was grumpy and combative, while the latter seemed to enjoy taking decades to get ready. Of course, both of them had a habit of being… indecent. And also with other elves. Legolas sighed as he approached Master Harry's room and unsheathed his long knife, using the tip of the blade to rap carefully on the door. It wouldn't do to knock on it again and have his fingers fall off.

"Come in," Harry called, which Legolas had since learned was the password that disabled his magical defenses.

Legolas pushed the door open and immediately flushed red as Harry casually read a book beside a slumbering elf-maiden with hair black as his own. He wasn't wearing a shirt, and Legolas tried to ignore the multitude of scars that criss-crossed his muscular chest - but it was difficult when the alternative was to stare at… was that his friend Fenlas?

The elf-maiden in question blinked and stirred. Harry glanced at her. "We have a guest," he said dryly. "A voyeur, it seems."

Legolas turned bright red at that. "I am not a voyeur!"

"Legolas?" Fenlas said sleepily, and sat up. Legolas tried to look anywhere but there as the blankets slid partway down her chest. "Why are you here?"

"I needed to wake Master Harry for his lessons, you know why," he bit out.

"I think Fenlas needs her lessons more than I need mine," Harry breathed as he nibbled on the maiden's earlobe. Fenlas' breath hitched and she turned red slightly, and Legolas tried not to throw up. "What say you?"

Legolas slammed the door to Harry's room and clutched at his chest. There was no way he wanted to interrupt that. He dourly moved on to the next room, which should be containing Lady Fleur, and hopefully, if he was lucky, without a young elf male. He sighed, steeled himself, and knocked. At least she didn't rig magical traps on her doors.

"Lady Fleur? Are you decent?"

"Hm, yes, I suppose I am."

Legolas was not heartened by this response, but he opened the door anyway. He froze. Lady Fleur was combing her long, platinum hair with a polished wooden hairbrush in her bed, with nothing but a 'brassiere' (an invention that supposedly the maiden-folk of Mirkwood took to with vigor) to conceal her modesty. Beside her, in the bed, was a similarly barely clothed… elf-maiden?

"Oh, good morning, Legolas," Celaruin said with a smile.

"Were the two of you sleeping together, or… sleeping together?" Legolas asked hesitantly.

Fleur quirked an eyebrow. "Both, I suppose," she said. "Do you have a problem with it, Legolas?"

Well… Legolas had heard that some elves… slept, for lack of a better word, with those of the same sex, but nobody had ever confirmed it. It felt strange. Unnatural, perhaps, knowing that they were doing so to each other. Celaruin was humming happily as she commandeered the brush and untangled Lady Fleur's hair for her.

"Is something wrong, Legolas?"

Legolas realized he had not answered Lady Fleur's previous question. "No, no, I don't," he said hastily. "I was surprised, is all."

"Good answer," Fleur said quietly, and Legolas swallowed nervously.

"So!" He forced himself to grin. "Are you ready for lessons?"

Fleur looked at him, then at Celaruin. The latter pouted adorably with full, red lips and making puppy eyes with her teal eyes. Fleur looked back to Legolas and then back to the girl. "So far, Celaruin is making the most adorable face ever," Fleur said. "So I'm inclined to stay with her."

"But…"

"I'm sure, though, you could convince me with your own puppy eyes?" Fleur smiled. "You have an adorable pout. If you do that… maybe I'll have to join you."

Legolas blushed. "No."

"Then I'm staying here. And you can get chewed out by your father for not taking your charge seriously."

"Why do you do this?" Legolas asked miserably.

"Heh. Look at him," Fleur whispered to Celaruin, who was smirking. "You're getting there. All you're missing is that pout."

"...fine," Legolas muttered, and pouted.

As he predicted, Fleur squealed in joy and clapped her hands, while Celaruin placed her hands on her chest and let out an "awwww." Legolas blushed furiously as Fleur gave the girl a peck on her cheek and jumped off the bed to thrown on some clothes.

"You've convinced me, Legolas," Fleur said in a sugary voice.

"Can I come along? Legolas is too cute," Celaruin asked, and Legolas sorely wished that he was in bed right now, and was not required to do anything or meet anyone.

"That way I can stay with both of you!" Fleur said happily. "Come on, then. We have a Sindarin lesson to attend to, with our teacher being the most adorable elf on this planet."

Legolas hated her.

"Woohoo!"

The Blackbird's afterburners howled, and the tips of the great black wings left twin lines behind them. The great eagles watched in (what was probably the bird equivalent of) shock and awe as the sleek, massive and loud, modified SR-71 hurtled through the air. They weren't moving very fast right now, since they were only a thousand feet in the air and Katie wanted to meet the eagles.

"Hey, there!" Katie waved from the open cockpit at the bewildered raptors. "Do you like my Blackbird?"

"It's hardly your Blackbird," Ron grumbled. It was Harry and Ron who had modified this, after all.

"Shut up, Ron," Katie muttered. Then, turning back to the eagles: "I'm a big fan! I love you guys!"

"Thank you?" One of the eagles answered in confusion, before a larger, older eagle whacked him with a wingtip. Katie couldn't help laughing.

"Get your dark magic out of our skies, witch," the older eagle hissed.

"Turn it down," Katie ordered Ron, and the magical sound dampeners kicked in. "What did you say?"

"I said, get out of our skies!"

"Hmm," Katie said thoughtfully. "I didn't know you had a monopoly on the skies."

"We are the king of the skies, witch."

"Tell you what, if you can beat us in a race, we'll concede your ownership of the skies," Katie smirked. "What do you think?"

"We do not negotiate with dark witches."

"I'm as pale as they come, honey. So, you afraid or something? Some king."

"You dare-!"

"Ready?" Katie grinned happily. "Three, two, one-"

The two eagles rushed forward, caught in the heat of the moment; they surged forward with powerful flaps of their mighty wings. Their short-term acceleration was much better, for obvious reasons. Katie kicked the back of Ron's seat. "They're winning, Ron! Catch them!"

"Please be quiet," Ron muttered. Nonetheless, he opened up the throttle and canceled the noise dampeners. The roar of the engines overwhelmed Katie, to the point like she felt the vibrations would knock her teeth loose. Nonetheless, it was a thrilling experience, and Ron winced as Katie squealed with unrestrained joy into her radio headset.

The Blackbird began to climb at a slight angle, and Katie was forced back into her seat as the metal beast began to catch up to the eagles, who were now practically falling out of the air with shock. The eagles had managed a decent amount of space, and they were probably as fast a commercial propeller aircraft in level flight - not a bad speed at all. Of course, the Blackbird barely needed effort to reach the sound barrier.

The eagles were knocked aside by the air that the Blackbird was slicing through. Katie imagined their reactions - for they were too far away to see, now - as they punched through the sound barrier. In another minute, they passed Mach 2 - and continued further upward. As they continued to climb, soon enough reaching 20,000 feet, the speed-based magical enhancements began to kick in.

The first was a air funnel that collected air from its surroundings even as the atmosphere thinned with increasing altitude. This had the dual purpose of funneling more air into the scramjet engines, and also removing air from the Blackbird's flight trajectory and therefore reducing drag.

The second was the magical combustion catalyst. While the Blackbird used traditional jet fuel to power its engines, on the ground and at lower speeds magic compensated for a good portion of the fuel to give it extended range and efficiency. At higher speeds and altitudes, fuel usage was greatly increased, and magic was used not to replace fuel, but to complement it, resulting in two trails of blazing white fire burning at temperatures close to the surface of the sun. The reason this could only be used in high altitudes and speeds was that the engines would melt before it outran the flames it produced.

"This is amazing," Katie breathed, pushing her face to the window. "Why don't you do this more often?"

"Jet fuel is expensive, you know," Ron said, but Katie could hear the smile in his tone, too.

"It's so beautiful," Katie murmured. They had traveled high enough to see a visible curvature of Arda. The world was strikingly similar to that of Earth, with the seas wine-dark, the clouds creating white froth on these pools, green lands becoming a beautiful yellow as they continued hurtling south towards Harad. Even though the magical modifications had pushed the Blackbird to a speed of Mach 6.5, it was peaceful up here, with no sign of turbulence or any indication of passing time.

"It is, isn't it?"

At some point Katie fell asleep. When she awoke, it was from Ron, telling her that they were about to make a landing on the Dark Lands. It was a bit of a disappointment to drift out of the serenity and into mild turbulence again, but Katie reminded herself that there would be plenty to see in this continent.

"Strap in," Ron told her.

Using a mixture of levitation and momentum arrestors and other spells weaved into each other, the Blackbird made a successful vertical landing on the shore of the Dark Lands. Katie gasped as she hopped outside and removed her headset, casting finite on her clothes to revert them from her flight suit back into a comfortable, breezy sundress. She kicked off her sandals as she whooped and charged at the beautiful golden beach that stretched before her.

"And they call this the Dark Land?" Ron smiled, he too reverting his clothes into casual-wear. He followed Katie, at a more sedate pace, to the beach, kicking off his shoes. The sensation of sand underneath his toes… it was soft, hot but not scalding. It was perfect. The blue waters sparkled invitingly, and Katie hitched up her dress as she jumped into the water.

"It's warm," she grinned. "Come on!"

Ron laughed as he followed her into the water. She shrieked as Ron summoned a super-soaker from the Wardrobe and drenched her while she had her back turned. Katie snarled. She summoned another super-soaker from the Wardrobe, and with a flick of her damp fingers, enlarged it until it was thrice its original size. It was Ron's turn to shriek like a girl as he was not only drenched, but blasted back into the water.

Katie was howling with laughter by the time Ron regained his footing and emerged from the surface, spluttering out seawater. He growled, his clothes morphing into swimming trunks, and he dived into the water once more, abandoning the water cannon. His body morphed into the shape of a manatee, and he charged at Katie, knocking her feet out from under her.

He heard a muffled "hey!" of surprise, and as he swam out to deeper waters, he realized he was being trailed by a rather annoyed-looking dolphin. The dolphin, naturally, did not have the same combat capabilities of a human, so he was attacked with a rather pointless body-slam.

They broke the surface of the water together, returning to human form. Katie smiled at Ron, who smiled back. She kicked her way closer to him, enveloping his neck in her arms, and gave him a deep, and salty, kiss. She pulled back and beamed. Ron's cheeks were sore from smiling so wide.

"This is amazing, and I love you."

"I love you too, Katie," Ron said with amusement.

"Hold on," Katie said, squinting and pointing to the horizon. "Are those sharks?"

"Maybe?" Katie had better eyes than he did. "Investigate?"

"Sure." Katie's body morphed into a giant black-and-white orca, while Ron turned into a sperm whale. If they were indeed sharks, and if they were hostile, then their sheer size (and their nasty teeth) would protect them.

They were, indeed, sharks. But they were bloody huge. Katie's jaw-dropping orca would've been funny if Ron didn't know he looked the same way. The sharks looked like great whites, but twice as large as they should be, and the individual teeth looked like buzzsaws. They were close to the size of Ron who, as a male sperm whale, clocked in at a generous 12.6 meters in length.

If orcas could swallow nervously, Katie was doing that right now. She turned tail and swam back towards shore at max speed, and Ron didn't complain as he followed.

Returning to human form, Katie and Ron stumbled back onto the sand. Thankfully, magic was effective at getting rid of moisture and sand both. They sighed defeatedly as they gazed out to the sapphire-colored sea. They silently agreed to return further inland to try and find a suitable place to raise their Cozy Cottage for the night.

"Here?" Ron asked, pointing to a small hill not too far from the beach. "It won't get flooded, because it's on high ground."

"Sure," Katie agreed.

Upon hiking to the peak of the hill, Ron pulled out a small cubic model of a house, only about an inch by inch at its base, and tossed it underhand. The cottage's shrinking charm was cancelled, and a small, but definitely human-sized log cottage formed on the hill. Ron held open the timber door for Katie, who passed through.

Unlike most wizarding portable buildings, the cottage was not larger on the inside than out. Combining an external shrinking charm with internal space-bending mumbo-jumbo could potentially result in disaster. Nothing serious, like breaking the space-time continuum, but anyone unfortunate to be inside when the spells collapsed might experience a mild case of being squished into paste.

Thus, the inside was dominated by a kitchenette, a bathroom, and a queen-sized bed, with little room for anything else. They didn't mind. Katie sighed in pleasure as she fell backwards onto the bed. Ron dropped down beside her. The dark-haired beauty turned to him with a brilliant smile.

"Today was a lot of fun," Katie said.

"It was," Ron agreed.

"I wonder what else we'll find here."

Ron hummed. Then they stared at each other in silence. After three thousand-odd years, it was difficult to find something to talk about, at least with the two of them alone. Since they were in the middle of nowhere, too, it wasn't as if they had rumor or gossip to discuss. But that was fine. Staring into each others' faces lovingly was more than enough.

At some point the two of them fell asleep, though neither noticed. What they did notice, however, were heavy footfalls outside the house. It was like a minor earthquake - nowhere near the level of being unable to stand, but faint tremors passing through the ground and into their bones just recognizable enough for them to realize that something was happening. Katie vaulted off the bed and looked out the window, before paling.

"...oh, buggering fuck."

"What's wrong?" Ron joined her, and paled even more. His arachnophobia had never disappeared, not really… and beyond the window was a veritable tidal wave of spiders, marching like ants, in the valley below. They didn't seem interested in the cabin, thankfully. This was a very good thing, because each of these spiders were the size of Humvees.

"Oh, Merlin," Ron squeaked.

"It's okay, go back to bed," Katie said gently, and Ron did as she suggested. "I can't believe it. Giant sharks, giant spiders… but absolutely beautiful beaches." Katie frowned. "The Dark Land is the only continent in the southern hemisphere in Arda, I'm pretty sure."

"You're telling me this is crackpot Australia?"

"...that would make a lot of sense, yes."

Thus ended Ron and Katie's first day in Tolkienesque Australia with typical Australian wildlife, except they were engorged by magic.