T.A. 1960, February
King Thranduil watched Lady Fleur and Master Harry ('just call me Harry damn you') bicker over the juice at his long dining table. He himself was seated on a raised dais at the head of the table, while the two were seated near the foot of it. Closer to Thranduil were more esteemed subjects like Haldir, but to even belong at the Elvenking's table was a great honor and showed that the warlocks had already gained the respect of the King, moreso than elves.
Elves of Mirkwood were amicable with Men, for Men oft came to trade with them. A small group of Men had settled on the crook of the River Celduin, a measly number counted in the dozens, but being immediately next to a river there seemed to be fertile farmland that they had taken to irrigating. They came to the elves to trade for goods they themselves could not easily acquire, such as metal ores.
However, it was practically unheard of for a non-elf to be seated at Thranduil's table on regular occasion. It had come to a surprise to all to find that Lady Fleur was, in fact, not an elf-maiden (Legolas had rather rudely blurted out that Lady Fleur's ear-tips were rounded when she was brushing her hair) but a man. Not just any man, either, but some sort of mixed-breed with a magical humanoid race she called the Veela.
Harry was, as he put it, 'one-hundred percent human', although there was an aura around him that Thranduil felt like he should take note of. It had taken him a full year to place just what it reminded him of - an aura that reeked a little of death, but not the same kind of dark magic that encroached upon his kingdom. Harry's 'Death' felt a little liked… reprieve, perhaps. Like an invitation to rest at Mandos' Hall. It felt inevitable, yet not actively hostile, and certainly not like the necromancy that was being practiced in the depths of Angmar.
"Maybe if you weren't busy having a foursome, you'd have more juice left for you," Harry snarked, and Thranduil, as was his policy, pretended not to have heard.
Haldir was much friendlier with the two of them, due to him being Harry's swordsmanship mentor. Haldir sniggered at the expression on Legolas' face, as well as most of his advisors. Thranduil had attempted to once introduce his advisors to Master Harry, but the latter had immediately dismissed them as 'desk-jockeys' and paid them zero attention after that. For Thranduil, that had been a bit of an embarrassment, and his advisors had gone into hiding for several days as protest for their King's hosting of this barbarian.
Despite his casual dismissal of his advisors, Harry was not an unlearned man. Far from it, in fact. While he was the most knowledgeable of the arcane arts (naturally) he also knew complicated mathematics that branched into the sciences. He knew things that Thranduil would never even have dreamed of - why the sky was blue during the day and red during sunsets, why iron rusted over time, and why children appeared like their parents. He openly admitted that he didn't know if his knowledge was consistent in Arda as well as his old world given that Arda was not created through a freak accident but intentionally by superior beings. Thranduil on the other hand could not comprehend that live could flourish from a near-improbable sequences of events involving massive rocks the sizes of moons smashing into each other.
"Lady Fleur!" Legolas stammered, attempting to be disapproving. Even after spending almost two years with these people, he had yet to be desensitized to the unnecessary information they blurted out at the most awkward of times. Thranduil was surprised at that.
"Perhaps if you acted like a decent husband we'd both be late for breakfast rather than just one of us," Fleur harrumphed. Haldir whistled at that comment.
"Oh, please. You know full well that I have few too many cocks to please you, if this morning is any indication."
"Va te faire enculer," Fleur snapped. This phrase, though in a language he did not understand, Thranduil recognized as 'go fuck yourself' from the sheer number of times Fleur directed it at her husband.
"Too tired to do me yourself?" Harry mocked. "You're bringing shame to your succubus heritage."
If Fleur were any other Veela that Harry barely knew, Thranduil had been kindly informed, referring to them as succubi was a surefire way to get incinerated. Fleur on the other hand only snorted, flaring her nostrils, and Thranduil wondered if he'd actually seen or just hallucinated the good lady emit a bit of smoke from them like a dragon.
"How do you manage to bicker so often and not destroy each other in the process?" Haldir wondered.
"Because it wastes too much time and effort to try anything that would come even remotely close to killing us," Fleur shrugged in response. "And if dear Harry were to die and leave me alone, who would keep him entertained longer than two weeks? He'd have to kill himself so he can apologize to me."
"She also loves me too much to really hurt me," Harry smirked.
"My friends," Thranduil interrupted as the breakfast neared its end. "I would like to remind you that an honored guest will be arriving today. That means, Legolas, you remain on your best behavior. And…" he sighed. "Fleur, Harry, both of you must also be on your best behavior."
"No way," Harry placed his hand on his chest dramatically. "Don't tell me Lady Galadriel is coming? I need to be presentable for her."
Thranduil sighed, cradling his cheek in his palm. "Please, Harry don't do this to me. Regardless, it's not Lady Galadriel who comes, it will Lord Glorfindel."
"Glorfindel?" Harry blinked, perking up. "The Balrog-slayer?"
"Indeed."
"Sounds exciting," Harry said, and did Thranduil just detect a hint of respect in his voice? Was that the first time, ever? "For what reasons does he come?"
Thranduil smiled slightly. "Partially a reunion between old friends. However, he has mentioned an interest in the two of you as well."
Harry and Fleur actually looked dumbstruck, while some of the maidens - and some of the males - looked at the two jealously. Two non-elves, catching the attention of an elf of legend, an elf that died and returned from Mandos' Hall? Being reputed to be indescribably handsome as well as being single may have something to do with it, too.
"I need to be presentable for him," Fleur said, unknowingly echoing her husband from earlier. It always confused Thranduil how open the two of them seemed with their relationship. Perhaps it was a Mannish thing?
"It won't help you," Harry smirked, his shock overcome. "What have you been telling him, Thranduil?"
Thranduil ignored the lack of his title. He knew Harry respected him, at least after spending time with each other and getting to learn each others' achievements better. Harry used peculiar ways to show respect. "I have been telling the truth. That two of the race of Men joined us while we were returning to Greenwood from the Grey Mountains, and that at least one of them is an insufferable clown."
Harry grinned. "Sounds about right."
Thranduil placed the conversation on hiatus, waiting until everyone left the table, save for himself, the warlocks, Haldir, Tauriel, and Legolas. Once the table was empty and the maids had taken away the dishes and cutlery, Thranduil had the doors to the feast hall closed and continued.
"I suspect he was also interested in the fact you can both wield magic," Thranduil admitted. "Worry not; Glorfindel is one I trust with my life. He is also a staunch enemy of the darkness, and he will not betray you to the enemy."
"What makes you think that the darkness is my enemy?" Harry raised an eyebrow.
Despite Tauriel and Legolas stiffening slightly, Thranduil was unconcerned. "I have discussed with you about the shadows and their servants. I have seen the face you pull when necromancy is mentioned - you are disgusted by them. Death does not bother you, but a cursed half-life of the Witch King's kind bothers you greatly and you will do anything to destroy it."
Harry remained silent for a very long moment. "I suppose you're right," he admitted finally.
"As such, I have seen fit to introduce you to Lord Glorfindel, an elf I am certain will become one of your greatest allies in the times to come," Thranduil said with a slight smile.
Once their meal was done, the two Men rushed off to prepare for Glorfindel's coming. Legolas and Tauriel obviously felt the need to do so as well, and made a dignified, but quick retreat to their respective chambers. Thranduil and Haldir, naturally, did not need to. They were always well-dressed.
It was two hours later that the King of Elves, his general, the Prince and the two Warlocks watched Glorfindel's party approach. Legolas quietly queried how the two Men could see when it was difficult for even Elves to spot the incoming guests; Fleur was at least partly non-human, and Harry had performed plenty of bodily augmentations. While Thranduil remained outwardly calm, it never ceased to shock him how wielders of magic could describe outlandish notions like switching bodies as if it were easy as switching clothing.
"Hail, King Thranduil!" Glorfindel called as he dismounted before the King.
"Lord Glorfindel, you grace Greenwood with your presence," Thranduil gave a shallow bow. Haldir, Legolas and Tauriel did the same, Fleur did a small curtsy, but Harry only gave a nod of recognition, instead opting to spend more time sizing up the elf.
"You have grown, Legolas," Glorfindel grinned. If any elf could be described as Mannish, then it was perhaps him; Glorfindel had always been friendly and carefree. "Lord Haldir, always and honor. And the two of you…" he squinted at them. "You two must be the warlocks that the King has spoken of."
"Indeed we are, my Lord," Fleur said with a disarming smile - by the Valar, she was beautiful. Glorfindel obviously felt the same way, judging by the slight changes in his facial expression, any measure of guardedness relaxing away. "We have in turn heard plenty about you."
"You seem like a decent bloke," Harry nodded.
While Thranduil would have thrown the insolent man into the dungeons for that casual greeting (and indeed he had, at least ten times) Glorfindel couldn't care less. He clasped arms with the raven-haired sorcerer, delighting in the firm grip of the latter. "And yourself. I have heard you are a master of many things non-magical, too! Haldir tells me you have wickedly good swordsmanship. Not quite as good as an elf's, perhaps, but I shall be interesting to test my skill against you."
"If only I could look forward to the same," Harry sighed dramatically, and Glorfindel clutched at his chest in mock hurt.
Thranduil had only noticed a young elf-maiden from the corner of his eye, shyly and awkwardly standing next to her mare, her hair as black as that of her midnight steed. Her visage was familiar to Thranduil; that was Arwen, Ol' Elrond's daughter. And a bachelorette, too - a highly sought after one.
"Men," Fleur rolled her eyes, and strode over to the maiden. Arwen seemed startled and shrank away, seeming smaller than the quarter-Veela despite being several inches advantage over the blonde. "You must be Arwen, Lord Elrond's daughter. You're prettier than folks say you are! Come, let's make you cozy. Do you like to read?"
Thranduil watched with a faint smile as Arwen flushed slightly and stammered an affirmative. It was a strange sight, knowing that Arwen often had an assertive and sometimes even tomboyish streak, and might otherwise consider this a waste of her time. Glorfindel was getting on legendarily with Harry. While Thranduil worried somewhat for his wine stores, he had a feeling this meeting would go well.
"How fares Elrond?" Thranduil asked, as he, Haldir, Harry and Glorfindel entered his private study.
"Well," Glorfindel replied. "There was a bit of tension two moons ago with orcs sighted on the borders of Rivendell, but it was resolved quickly."
"Good," Thranduil said simply. There was no love between elves and their twisted cousins.
"Lord Elrond has also expressed his interest in you, Master Harry," Glorfindel said with a slight incline of his head. "He is interested in your 'potions' and their applications on healing. While he has extensive knowledge of healing elixirs, there can never be too few contingencies."
"And I'd be happy to share my knowledge with him, if you'll introduce me," Harry smiled.
"He'll be pleased to hear," Glorfindel grinned. "The opportunity to meet him may come quicker than you realize, however. This is part of the reason I have come here to Greenwood."
"Oh?"
"Your friends Ronald and Katherine," he pronounced those names with a strange, but pleasant-sounding elvish inflection, "have been deemed trustworthy by Mithrandir. Furthermore, you and Lady Fleur have gained the respect and trust of both Haldir and King Thranduil, who are noble elves I'd give my life for. While we have not known you long, we believe you, with your exotic wisdom, may be able to contribute to the discussions held in the White Council."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Who is in it?"
"That depends on who comes. The White Council has not been held since the Second Age, you see, with Gil-Galad at its head. However, Lady Galadriel deemed four white stars falling to the earth and the coinciding appearance of immensely powerful Istari to be a matter that should be considered by the wisest in the realm."
"Aw, you flatter me, Glorfy."
"Please do not call me that."
"You blushing only makes me want to do it more. It's true, ask Thandy."
Haldir failed to contain his snort this time even as Thranduil ran a palm over his face. It was a shame that the warlock was seemingly invincible to anything Thranduil could throw at him. It was better deal than he imagined, though, being treated like an equal - it formed a friendship, something he had not done in centuries, and it was also much better than being talked down upon, he supposed.
"Anyway," Glorfindel continued, as if he hadn't heard Harry's new nickname for him. "Lady Galadriel and Curunir both felt they needed to get the measure of the two of you. Although the latter supposedly retracted his curiosity after he learned that you and Lady Fleur spawned the Snowfolk."
Thranduil snorted softly in amusement.
"Please, Thandy, your first reaction wasn't that much better. You got all broody and stuff. Funny to watch, but you were really unfair towards your kid, your general, and your maids."
"You need not remind me, Harry," Thranduil sighed. If only the Man's name was longer. Thranduil couldn't make a stupid-sounding nickname with a two-syllable name.
"Yes, I do. Who else is going to keep your ego in check? Anyway," he turned back to Glorfindel. "I don't particularly care for this so-called Curunir, anyway. I've spoken with Gaby a few times since we left and he sounds like a right twat. Galadriel, on the other hand, I've heard is a total GILF."
"What's a GILF?" Glorfindel asked.
"You don't want to know," Haldir interrupted. Good man.
"I suspect I don't," Glorfindel nodded at Haldir's wisdom. "But yes. Everyone but the White Wizard, and possibly the Brown Wizard, will be attending. The Brown Wizard is rather shy and prefers the company of his animals to those of Elves or Men. Lord Elrond is certainly eager to meet you both."
"Sounds good to me," Harry shrugged. "When is this meeting? Do you think Lady Galadriel would be willing to host me in her home?"
"The Council will take place in three moons' time. Until then, well, I suppose we'll be doing all sorts of things that Menfolk do, perhaps we can spar and train together."
Harry grinned. "I've been looking forward to a spar with you. I think I'll enjoy it."
Haldir decided to give his own opinion, as well. "You might be surprised to note that Harry is an excellent storyteller. More than once young Prince Legolas has asked for bed-time stories from him."
"Oh?" Glorfindel raised a questioning eyebrow raised at both the general and the king.
"Indeed," Haldir said, and continued with a perfectly straight face. "My favorites are the stories of Zeus whereupon he transforms into various animals for the sake of serenading mortal women."
Glorfindel blinked.
"What?"
"Nothing, dear Haldir," Glorfindel said neutrally. "I'm sure they are fascinating."
"So, what should I get Galadriel? Does she like jewelry? All women like jewelry, right?" Harry asked. "Oh, I know! I'll get her some chocolates. I know for a fact that this world has yet to discover chocolate."
"Do I want to know what that is?" Glorfindel asked with a glance to Haldir.
"Absolutely. It's the most amazing thing I have tasted in my life," Haldir said smugly.
Glorfindel pouted when he realized he was missing out on something that was actually pretty good. Since Harry had already decided he and Fleur would join the next Council, the four of them traded stories. It got to the point where they lost track of time and they ended up talking until the sun went down.
"I'd best handle my matters," Thranduil said, mildly surprised. "I have duties that I must attend to."
"Alright," Harry said, standing up and looking to Glorfindel. "Shall I introduce you to Fleur, now?"
Glorfindel gestured to the door and followed Harry out. The man walked completely silently, Glorfindel noticed, even to his enhanced elf ears. A feat difficult for even elves - if the man wasn't walking directly in front of him, he might not even realize that Harry was there. Perhaps he had a magical method of concealing his presence, as well.
"There you are," Harry said. "Glorfindel, meet Fleur Delacour."
Glorfindel came to a pause as he gazed upon, perhaps, the most beautiful woman he'd ever witnessed. Braided, silver-colored hair flowed down to her waist, and her aquamarine eyes pierced the dusk and bore into his own. She was shorter than most elves, but her figure was perfect, and she wore a black dress that seemed to reveal nothing yet imply everything. Lust bubbled up at the back of his mind, without his say-so. Her full lips quirked into an enigmatic smile, and she cursied elegantly.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Lord Glorfindel."
Oh, Valar, and that voice. And that beautiful accent of hers, however faint. Glorfindel thanked the stars that he'd had the good sense to remain a bachelor all his life. Why tie himself down with one maiden when he could encounter true works of art like her? Despite his mind being a whirlwind, he didn't forget his manners. He clasped her fingers and brushed his lips across her knuckles. "The pleasure is entirely my own, Lady Fleur."
"Harry, dear, can you fetch us some drinks?" Fleur said with a brilliant smile, and to Glorfindel's surprise, he did. Then again, he doubted he himself could resist the charm that she was radiating. Her lips parted slightly, revealing perfect white teeth. "It appears your rumors do not do you justice, my Lord."
Glorfindel soon lost track of time, between the wine and the woman. The lady had commandeered the conversation, but he was fine with that; more of his mind could be used to focus on her cheekbones, her brows, and her pale collarbones. It was after many of the elves had retired or moved elsewhere in their festivities that she stood up, smoothing her black dress over her thighs. She beckoned with a single tantalizing finger and turned around, fully expecting him to follow.
Glorfindel snorted as he stood up. The Slayer of Balrogs, being led about by the hand like a child. Surely nobody else was capable of resisting her charms, either. His eyes focused on the mesmerizing sway of her hips, the outline blurred against the darkness, and the pendulum-like swinging of her long, braided hair. She disappeared into what was apparently her quarters, and Glorfindel followed. He took a step through, only to realize there was nobody in his line of sight.
The door shut and clicked. Glorfindel turned around to see that Fleur had locked the door. He smiled slightly. Just like Harry, he thought distantly, she must have some way of concealing her presence, through magic or simply skill. She placed a palm on his chest and pushed him back onto the bed, and saddled his lap.
"You're much more impressive than I thought," she breathed into his ear. "Impress me again."
T.A. 1960, May
"Come on, Glorfy. You gonna fight me or not?"
"We sparred this morning!"
"And I'm fucking bored! I fucking hate medieval travel. That's it, I'm inventing the steam engine and building railroads all across Middle-fucking-Earth."
Elves, as a side-effect of their semi-infinite lifespan, had no problems with boredom. Or, at least, it took a long time of doing nothing for them to feel bored. These Men were, to quote the Ents, 'very hasty.' Ents were arguably the slowest creatures in Middle-Earth, so that may be a little unfair. Regardless, Harry had been egging Glorfindel into spars every other hour.
Of course, Harry had read two books per day for every day of the last two weeks they'd been on the trail to Lothlorien. He abruptly stopped reading yesterday, saying that he was sick of staring at paper all the time. He had to get imaginative to fill his time - he'd engaged Glorfindel, Arwen, Tauriel and Fleur in a curious game called 'Scrabble'. Lady Arwen was perhaps the most scholarly out of all of them, and she had the most wins. However, Lady Fleur and Harry both performed admirably. They picked up languages very quickly. They picked up anything very quickly, in truth.
"Why can't you spar with Lady Fleur?" Glorfindel asked. "Or Tauriel, for that matter?"
"Cause Fleur kicks my arse every time," he whined. "And Tauriel's a sore loser."
"I am not," Tauriel sniffed. The four others turned to look at her, and she swallowed. "What?"
"You really are, Tauriel," Arwen commented.
"Wh- my Lady!" Tauriel gasped, pressing her hand to her chest. "You wound me."
Glorfindel got the idea that Harry and Fleur both liked Arwen, a lot. The latter had once referred to Arwen as the 'big tiddy goth elf GF,' whatever the hell that meant. Harry wasn't even reserved when he discussed with Glorfindel all the amazing qualities that Arwen carried, particularly those on her backside and on her chest.
"Won't Lady Fleur be offended you are paying so much attention to her?" He had asked in concern.
"Did you really think you were fooling me when you visit Fleur every other night?" Harry had replied, and Glorfindel had no reply to that except to blush tremendously. "Plus, I've discussed it with her. She seems to agree on those qualities."
Glorfindel returned his attention to the present, where they were sitting in a ring around a campfire and just about finishing their evening meal. Tauriel had managed to find a wild turkey and shot it, and Fleur had somehow transformed it into a fairly hearty and delicious meal with only limited cooking supplies from her pack.
"It's a clear sky tonight," Harry said, looking up. And it was indeed. The past two weeks had been mostly overcast, and Greenwood - called Mirkwood often these days - had overhanging shadows too thick to pierce for most stars. "Arwen, darling, do you want to go for a flight?"
"A flight?" Arwen raised a single, perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "On what?"
"On me, of course," he bounced his eyebrows. "Didn't Tauriel tell you that I'm good at animagus transformations? I'm actually pretty good at most transfigurations in general."
"Animagus transformations?" For once, Arwen's neutral expression broke apart into slight confusion. "Like the skin-changers in the north?"
"Somewhat, but I'm not limited to one form," Harry grinned happily. "Well, I was once, but I figured a way around it. Now, up you get." He tugged Arwen to her feet, and picked her up in a piggyback. Arwen looked to Fleur for guidance - the young woman had found kinship in the sorceress - but Fleur only nodded and waved lazily. Arwen sighed and turned to Harry.
Her unimpressed expression quickly morphed into pleasant surprise, as did that of Tauriel and Glorfindel. Harry began morphing into a great raven, feathers as black as his hair and his eyes strikingly green. He spread great wings until he was surely the size of one of the smaller of Great Eagles that lived in the cliffs.
"Hold on," Glorfindel interrupted. "You're telling me that you could have done this from the beginning and got us to Lothlorien in perhaps a day, two at most?"
"Fuck off, Glorfy," Harry replied. "I refuse to do you any favors where I don't have to."
Glorfindel grumbled as he sat back down. "You were the one complaining of boredom."
"I needed time to flirt with Arwen."
Glorfindel rolled his eyes as Harry took off from the ground with mighty flaps of his wings. Arwen, uncharacteristically, actually squeaked in surprise as they tore away from the earth and towards the heavens. Glorfindel watched the shadow become smaller, and soon enough they were only a phantom high in the sky, only visible from the corner of one's eye. Glorfindel looked back to the campfire and saw the redheaded elf-maiden staring up still, with a slight expression on her face that looked like jealousy.
In Fleur's words, Tauriel appeared to 'have a crush' on the sorcerer. Poor girl.
It didn't help that Harry flirted with Tauriel just often enough to keep his image in her mind, too. Well, he wasn't really flirting, but Tauriel, being the young maiden that she was, perceived it that way. By the Valar, if Harry's conversation with Tauriel counted as flirting, his interactions with Glorfindel himself could be considered positively risque.
"Do the two of you want to fly, as well?" Fleur asked quietly.
Glorfindel grinned. "If you're willing, my Lady, I'd be honored."
"Yes, please," was Tauriel's quiet reply.
Fleur stood up, stretched, popping her vertebrae, and shrugged. Somehow, her shrugging blurred her physical form and warped her; she began to grow feathers, a hooked beak, and a long, reptilian tail. Her legs became lean and taut, folding in on itself, and giant talons adorning the end of them. Her arms expanded out into wings, and a massive, but unfamiliar bird of prey stood in front of them. Tauriel and Glorfindel hopped onto her back.
Glorfindel had once ridden on the back of a Great Eagle before, and this was only somewhat similar. He supposed it stood to reason that Fleur did not have as much experience in being a bird, and was thus less adept at flying. Still, though, it was exhilirating - sailing through the sky was not a feat many Men, or Elves, could brag about. Tauriel whooped as Fleur chased the raven into a dive, and pulled up at the last moment, shooting up into the sky like an arrow. Words he'd heard from Harry came unbidden to his mind.
"I shot an arrow into the air, it fell to earth, I knew not where," he breathed. Tauriel glanced back at him and smiled. "For, so swiftly it flew, the sight could not follow in its flight."
Fleur took them so far up into the sky that Glorfindel and Tauriel literally touched the clouds, and low enough to skim just above the trees. As Fleur and Harry continued to circle around each other, Tauriel spoke. "Knock Arwen off the raven!"
There was a rumble from below, reminiscient of a chuckle, and Fleur sped towards the raven with the intent to ram it in the side. Harry squawked in an undignified manner as he twisted out of the way, and Arwen shrieked from atop his back. Tauriel and Glorfindel jeered at them and made rude gestures as Fleur swooped up and prepared another strafing run.
As Fleur approached, Glorfindel saw that Harry was morphing into something else - something larger than a raven. It seemed to be another type of eagle, though this one had a pale face and a crown of darker, gray feathers adorning it, and thundercloud-colored wings. It screeched at Fleur, before kicking itself out of her way.
Fleur growled audibly from underneath and her two riders struggled to remain onboard as she morphed into a giant swan, pale white in stark constrast against the sky. When Harry noticed this, he started to grow larger, the feathers retracting, eye-slits becoming vertical and more reptilian… Glorfindel and Tauriel found their jaws dropping as Harry grew into a monstrous scarlet dragon. Perhaps not as large as traditional dragons, but large enough to be terrifying.
"By the Valar," Tauriel whispered.
Fleur gave a defeated noise from beneath them and slowly circled back down to the ground, aiming for the speck of light that was their unextinguished campfire. Tauriel and Glorfindel got off her back somewhat shakily, the dragon roaring triumphantly overhead. Fleur returned to her human form and smiled awkwardly at them.
"Sorry," Fleur shrugged. "I have an affinity for birds, given my ancestry, but it also means I can barely turn into anything else."
"That was still fun," Tauriel smiled brightly. "Thank you, Lady Fleur."
"You're welcome," Fleur smiled back and shrugged slightly. "I had fun, too."
Eventually, Harry returned - silently, somehow - to their campground. Arwen was flushed and beaming as she slid off the dragon's spined back. Harry returned to normal and looked at Fleur smugly, to which she simply rolled her eyes disinterestedly.
"I'm going to sleep," Harry sighed. "That took a lot out of me."
"Me, too." Fleur yawned. "Goodnight, everyone."
Fleur and Harry rolled down next to each other and went to sleep. Arwen and Tauriel looked to Glorfindel as if in askance, and he nodded. The two elf-maidens also went to sleep - although unlike the Men they slept with their eyes wide open (both Harry and Fleur had expressed their discomfort at that. Men were strange). He would keep watch tonight. Though they were close to the protected territory of the bearer of Nenya, only a fool would sleep without a guard.
And the sorcerers deserved to rest. They had performed miracles for them, after all.
Three Days Later
"Fucking finally," Harry grumbled. "I can't see why we didn't just apparate and be done with it. It's not as if the people of this world still don't know if we exist or not."
"It was a nice experience," Fleur said. "It's not often I can drag you outside to do some hiking."
"We've been hiking for years at this point," Harry continued to grumble. "All the way from the Far North, down the Grey Mountains and now towards Lothlorien. I still think it's more walking than is necessary."
"But we're on horseback."
"And the horses have been walking the entire time rather than running," Harry sighed. "Even without the aid of magic this trip could have finished in a third of the time."
"You didn't enjoy the views, Harry?" Fleur smiled. "Because I did. It has such beautiful landscapes - and none of it tarnished by concrete or steel."
"I enjoyed it for maybe the first two days, three if I'm being generous. Then it got boring."
"We are nearing Lady Galadriel's abode," Glorfindel called.
"You know dwarves tell scary stories about this place? They think there's a dangerous, short-tempered witch in this forest." Harry glanced at Fleur. "It's silly, but I guess there's some truth to it now."
Tauriel watched Harry duck underneath a fireball that came flying in his direction (the fireball continued along its merry path and violently exploded against a rock). He did that smirk, the one where it was clear that he knew he was annoying the other and enjoying it. Tauriel had become rather familiar with that smirk over the past few years, after all. Arwen simply blinked and ignored them. Valar, did she feel emotions at all?
"I bet Harry will be beaten up by Celeborn sometime during our stay," Fleur muttered.
"Unfortunately, I don't think anyone would bet against you on that," Tauriel muttered back.
As they continued on their 'path', if it could even be called that anymore considering how narrow and barely visible it became, the trees became larger and more twisted, and began to feel more primal. It would have been impossible to sense for an ordinary Man, and it was certainly difficult to sense for an Elf as well, but the trees were brimming with mystic energy as they approached Lothlorien, feeding upon the inhabitants' magic.
Welcome to our home, Tauriel of Greenwood.
Tauriel flinched and, to her shame, everyone noticed. She knew that the voice must have been Lady Galadriel, but it was still jarring to hear it. She had heard others' voices in her mind before - often Lady Fleur's, sometimes Harry's, as they practiced Occlumency - but those were in controlled situations. And her knowledge of basic Occlumency meant she understood the potentially dangerous implications of hearing another's voice in her head.
"Is something wrong?" Glorfindel asked.
"No, nothing." Tauriel shook her head. "Lady Galadriel welcomed me in. I was surprised, was all."
Fleur and Harry looked at each other, then shrugged. "I didn't hear anything," Fleur said to him. "Either she's not speaking to me or my Occlumency barriers are too high. I thought I'd had them down."
Harry hummed. They continued through the forest, and Tauriel gaped at the shimmering golden trees in wonder. Lothlorien was said to be the hearth of dreams, and she ws hard-pressed to disagree; the whole place looked like a setting out of a children's tale. Glorfindel suddenly stopped, and Tauriel nearly walked into his back. The usually stoic Arwen's face twisted into a mirthful smile.
"Grandmother! Grandfather!"
With that, she charged into the arms of Lady Galadriel, for whom Glorfindel had paused. She wore an amused smile as she squeezed Arwen close. When Arwen pulled away, she stepped one step to the right to squeeze her grandfather Celeborn in a similar manner. Celeborn threw his arm around the girl's shoulder as he appraised the rest of the party.
"Lord Glorfindel, always a pleasure to see you," he said, inclining his head. Glorfindel bowed respectfully back. "Tauriel of Greenwood. Fleur Delacour, and Harry Stark."
At the rather bland introduction, Harry and Fleur glared daggers at Celeborn, who blinked at their hostility. Galadriel smiled slightly. "Harry Stark, Lord of Houses Black, Potter, Peverell, Delacour, and Pancakes, former President of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, Doctor of Philosophy in Architectural, Chemical, and Mechanical Engineering, Chemistry, Physics and Astrophysics, former Rear Admiral of the Royal Navy, and 3-time Olympic Curling Gold Medalist."
Galadriel turned to Fleur. "And she is, of course, Fleur Delacour, Lady of Houses Black, Potter, Peverell, Delacour and Lannister, Duchess of Normandy, former Colonel of Armée de l'Air Française, certified military pilot, Oscar for Best Actress (and six nominations), Doctor of Philosophy in Biology, Chemistry, Physics, and Psychology, Doctor of Jurisprudence, and two-times StarCraft II World Champion."
Everyone, including Galadriel herself, stared at the two smug-looking warlocks as she finished. "What does any of that actually mean?" Glorfindel stage-whispered.
"Oh, just forget it," Harry waved at them dismissively. "Just proving a point. Hello, Celeborn, Galadriel."
"Please don't be offended," Tauriel said quickly. "They're always this disrespectful."
"Seems to be that way," Galadriel said with that mysterious smile still present. "Why don't you all come with us, then? I'm sure you must be hungry."
"I hope it's not veggie soup," Harry muttered.
"It's veggie soup," Celeborn confirmed.
"Damn it."
Hey all. Now that we've done a bit of worldbuilding and settling in, expect a few time skips over the course of the next however many chapters.