Chapter Six: Longing for the Unseen
Title: Lord of the Forest
Rating: T
Pairings: Harry/Legolas
Warnings: Slash, mild gore, AU, language, some angst, a touch of depression, OOCness. That's a bit hard to avoid with an immortal Harry, though.
Summary: The grief after Harry's friends' deaths threatens to overcome him. With nothing and no one left, he slips into a new world, where he can start over. There he discovers he plays quite an important part... Harry/Legolas; powerful!Harry; Harry centric. Written for CasheyHooray1.00's challenge.
AN: Wow… okay, erm… Don't hit me? I did not realize that I had left this to sit for so long. Especially with so many people reading! Seriously, you guys are awesome. Anywho, I've finally returned and brought some chapters with me!
NOTE: Someone asked what I meant with the line last chapter concerning Harry's decision not to visit the elves after Legolas's birth "saving Middle Earth, but condemning his [Harry's] heart to thousands of years of suffering." To clarify: had Harry visited, he would have felt compelled to stick around and protect Legolas from harm (we get into that a little this chapter). This would have prevented Harry from fighting against Sauron during the Third Age before LotR and the events of The Hobbit. In this universe, Harry is very active in the war effort, so had he not fought, much more of Middle Earth would have been destroyed even if Sauron was defeated permanently.
DISCLAIMER: I do not, nor will I ever, own the worlds of Harry Potter sand Lord of the Rings.
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THIRD AGE, YEAR 2941
"You want to do WHAT?" Harry yelped in alarm. Several patrons of the shady bar turned to glare at their shadowed corner. The white-haired wizard hastily lowered his voice, "Gandalf, are you mad? You know as well as anyone the dangers of a journey such as this! How could you possibly wish to endeavor to retrieve that bloody hunk of rock?"
Gandalf chuckled fondly. "Only you, my old friend, would refer to the Arkenstone as a 'hunk of rock'. The stone is very precious to the dwarves; it is not just the stone itself- it symbolizes their victory over the dark creature which stole from them their people and destroyed their home."
Harry waved his hand irritably. "It matters not what it symbolizes. The jewel brings nothing but greed and madness to the possessor; this you know."
Gandalf bowed his head in acknowledgement, but did not concede– "There is one who may be able to overcome the song of the stone and that of the golden hoard. His name is Thorin Oakenshield, and he is the one undertaking the journey, along with his companions."
"The decision has already been made, I see," said Harry dryly. "Well, if that's you needed to speak to me of, then I will be taking my leave–"
"Harry, one thing more." Gandalf's hand snatched at younger Istari's sleeve with surprising force. "There will be another companion on this quest– a young hobbit called Bilbo. If you could possibly–"
"Oooh no, old man," Harry shook his head fiercely, yanking his sleeve out of Gandalf's grip. "Absolutely not. You are not dragging me into this mess, I refuse to babysit your merry band of dwarves. Have you forgotten the results of your last round of meddling?" Harry hissed menacingly.
Gandalf shook his head mournfully. "Those poor suitors never meant any harm, they were nice men… My cloak still smells strangely," the man added, disapprovingly eyeing the manic grin which had replaced Harry's scowl at the remembered mischief. "I only need you to check in on them once in a while. There is trouble brewing in Mirkwood, I will need to abandon them before their quest's end."
"Mirkwood?" asked Harry tightly, eyes suddenly intent upon the elder's face. All previous mirth was forgotten in the face of danger in that place, of all the kingdoms. "What has happened?"
Gandalf sighed, running a hand across features which appeared a great many years older in the dingy light of the pub. "My friend, there have been whispers, whisper in the shadows of a great darkness returning…"
As Gandalf spoke of evils and the resurrected dead, eternally young features drained of color. The candles burned low, flames twirling and shuddering away from the news- the words which made the growing shadows of night dance in joy:
The Dark Lord returns, they sang, he comes!
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THIRD AGE, YEAR 2941
Harry eyed the sleeping bodies in disbelief from his perch in the trees. This was the group meant to retrieve the Arkenstone?! That dwarf looks barely able to stand, much less hold a sword! Harry thought scornfully. And the hobbit? Psh, soft as a housecat!
Harry shook his head in despair and turned his attention instead to the forest surrounding. Mirkwood had always called to him- ever since that day…
Pale, porcelain features, hair of white gold…
"Promise?"
The child eyed him with such longing, it was all Harry could do not to sweep the child into his arms and take him himself to Rivendell. Instead the green-eyed man spoke as gently as possible and promised.
Eyes filled with relief… Eyes like glaciers and broken mirrors reflecting cloudless day…
Harry roughly broke himself out of the gold-hazed daydream. He doubted the little elfling remembered him; well, he supposed the elfling would not be quite so little now.
A verdant gaze trailed the (now awake) company as they packed up and made their way out of their small clearing. The wizard felt the approach of the souls of several large arachnids a few miles off. Red lips stretched to reveal slightly sharpened teeth.
Oh, this will be fun.
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THIRD AGE, YEAR 2941
Harry pouted as he observed the cooling spider corpses. He hadn't gotten to fight at all. How disappointing, He mourned his loss of entertainment, but eyed the little hobbit with much more interest than before. It seems I will have to revise my opinion of the small one.
He then turned to face the rescuers. They were quite obviously members of the Woodland Realm, subjects to King Thranduil. Harry watched the female without interest. His eyes roamed over the rest of the entourage, flicking in a bored fashion over each face until–
Blue blue eyes, blue like glacial ice–
All of Harry's breath left him in a rush. It was the little elfling from before, the one who had caught Harry's attention so completely, the reason he had gravitated towards Mirkwood for almost two thousand years.
The elf's head swung up sharply upon hearing Harry's surprise, and he eyed the boughs of the trees warily and with caution. Harry was almost too caught up in the elf to remember to hide himself– but Merlin, was he beautiful!
A sudden tug on his magic drew his attention– however reluctantly– from the elf. Something dark was brewing and it had set off one of the wards Harry had unrepentantly tagged Gandalf's staff with.
Taking one last, longing look at the elf, Harry prepared to shift through space to Gandalf's side, and so pushed all thoughts of elves and the heaviness in his heart to the back of his mind.
In his haste, Harry tore his cloak on the unforgiving branches of his perch. Swearing and raging, he transported to Gandalf– only to be met with a Shadow far more powerful than anything he had met in all his years of existence.
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THIRD AGE, YEAR 2941
Legolas watched as the dwarves grumbled amongst themselves and swept lingering spider silk from their clothing. He sneered at their rudeness. None of them were the least bit grateful that the elves had saved them!
He saw Tauriel out of the corner of his eye lean down to examine one of the spiders, but his attention was caught by something akin to a gasp from above. Subtly, he prepared himself to draw his sword or release an arrow– but the expected attack never came.
Brow furrowing in confusion, Legolas focused his ears and eyes upon the foliage above. He could have sworn he had sensed something…
There!
A faint voice cursed to itself, sounding from a tree on the edge of the clearing. Legolas nearly stumbled upon himself in his scramble to reach the voice. Something about it seems familiar… Could it be? No…
Promise?
I promise.
By the time the elf prince reached the branch where he had heard the voice, all he found was a scrap of fine cloth. Raising it to his face, Legolas caught the scent of sparks which lingered in the aftermath of a thunderstorm, fresh grass, and something warm and heady.
"Legolas!"
"I am coming!" He called back. Legolas gave the area one last searching stare, before leaping back down to the ground, pushing the incident away.
No one noticed if he reached into his pocket to absent-mindedly stroke the scrap of cloth there.
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THIRD AGE, YEAR 2941
"So we know for sure now." Harry said in monotone, watching blankly as Gandalf stoked the flames. "He has returned."
Gandalf nodded and smiled grimly. "But we have bought time with this. He was not expecting the both of us– no doubt he was planning on you bolstering the defenses of Fangorn, as you did in the first war."
Harry sighed and came to sit next to his companion. "I have to admit, it is a tempting idea."
"You know he will not forget you now. You are a part of his plans now, whether you plan on staying or not." Gandalf cautioned. "It is in your best interest to be among allies now."
Harry laughed without humor. "What allies, Gandalf? None but the elves and the trees remember the horrors of Sauron. The men and the dwarves will be hard-pressed to overcome petty grudges and differences. And many of the elves are much too proud to admit the need for help from those they see as lesser."
Gandalf did not reply. Smoke rose in rings from his pipe, and for once he did not shape them whimsically.
A great while later, Harry had nearly fallen asleep when he heard Gandalf mutter to himself.
"We can only hope and see, my friend."
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THIRD AGE, YEAR 3018
Harry eyed the letter with no small amount of trepidation. He had not yet forgotten the hell-raising adventure Gandalf had drawn him into last time– imagine, a dragon of all things! He shuddered. Even opening the bloody thing was asking for trouble.
Tossing the letter on the inn table for the moment, Harry instead watched the other patrons of the inn. Some rowdy drunk men were singing some raunchy song in the middle of the room. A 'secret' rendezvous between the butcher's boy and the young widow in the opposite corner was watched not-so-surreptitiously by the innkeeper's daughter. Harry snorted in amusement. No doubt the entire town would know of it by tomorrow afternoon.
But the most interesting occupant was the man cloaked in the shadows of the adjacent corner. He was tall; broad shoulders muscled, calloused hands cradled a mug. A swordsman, no doubt. Waiting for someone. Who…?
Harry sighed and shook his head, once again turning to Gandalf's letter. He reached for it, silently despairing and cursing his curiosity. I will get pulled in anyways, I always do.
He ripped through the envelope easily and pulled out the contents. A letter, addressed to him, carrying far more intriguing information than anything Harry could have hoped to entertain himself with for the next few centuries. Gandalf you sly, sly man– you know exactly how to get my attention. Harry's eyebrows rose as he further perused the elegant script.
A council, eh? Harry smirked. How interesting…
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Okay, that was a lot of writing for one sitting. Yay, an almost meeting, Legolas PoV, and the beginning of LotR content. Sorry guys, I know a lot of this was filler. Necessary, but not entirely pleasant. Please let me know about any mistakes, as the time is currently 5 am I do not expect my spelling and grammar to be perfect. Haha, well hope you guys enjoyed it!
-MC