Chapter Seven: Hidden Protector
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: Here's to all the awesome people who read and special thanks to those who reviewed! Is everyone excited for the famous Council chapter? Be grateful, I almost decided to make this one of those silly intermission chapters to explain what was going on with everyone else…
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 3018
The breeze danced playfully through the leaves, swirling among them and ruffling white hair. Branches arched and bent towards the lounging figure, who batted them away as they began to aid the wind in tangling his hair. Pointedly ignoring the elements ganging up on him, Harry instead watched his surroundings idly. The forests about Rivendell were lush and green, but the flow of life here was a far cry from the slow, ancient lumbering of Fangorn.
As the dizzying pulse of the life of Rivendell swept over him again, Harry was forcefully reminded of his growing homesickness. He longed to return to the quiet of Fangorn, but he ached to experience adventure again. Harry was beginning to wonder how Gandalf had even convinced him to look into this insane mission in the first place. Going against Sauron? Pft, as if the mortals would be able to manage…
A deep sigh rustled the leaves dangling just before Harry's nose. This whole mess was terribly discouraging, and his extended leave from Fangorn only served to make him more unsettled. He closed his eyes and went to lean back, intending to catch a nap before entering the elven city.
Just seconds later, Harry's eyes snapped open.
Many dark auras had just burst onto Harry's radar. He watched incredulously as nine dark shadows raced after an elven woman. The ringwraiths. So she had something of importance to Sauron… the Nazgul rarely hunted for sport any more. He pondered jumping to her defense, but reconsidered as the elf-lady urged her horse forward and leapt into the river.
Harry raised an eyebrow. So the lady was no pandering housewife.
The wraiths rushed after her, but the elf hesitated on the opposite bank and the Nazgul screeched, sensing victory. Harry sighed and stood, dusting off his pants as he made to go to her side. Elves, he grumbled to himself, are insufferable creatures, always getting into trouble… A brief flash of a stern, black-haired man had Harry shuddering. He did not sound like that– that prat.
But instead of Harry rushing in and saving the day and getting the girl– or elf, he thought, recalling a particularly enchanting (but just as insufferable) blonde one from Mirkwood– the elven woman paused, the air pulsed and the river surged.
Harry hissed at the aura which surrounded the magic. The power itself didn't seem to belong to the woman. Sauron– no, he frowned, the magic was… cleaner, somehow, less tainted by rage and greed and– grief? Someone nearby must be a keeper of a Ring... Harry shook his head impatiently, dislodging a pretty red feather. He didn't have time to ponder the history of the nasty little ring which he knew was the cause of the flood: his entertainment was getting away!
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Gandalf, amused, observed the spot of wavering air that had lurked about the halls since Arwen's return with Frodo. Its aura was distinctly disgruntled, and if Gandalf could have seen the invisible creator he was sure that the other wizard would be pouting.
"You know, my friend, that skulking about the shadows is not the polite way to attend a gathering," he smoothed his features into a stern façade. "And my reputation would be severely damaged if I were seen speaking with thin air. I can only use the 'it is wizard business' excuse so many times before people begin to think me truly senile."
The distortion bent and shuddered, and Gandalf got the impression that Harry was cackling.
Gandalf's mask of disapproval cracked and his mouth twisted into a grin. "Well if I cannot convince you to attend properly, at least come to watch?" The illusion faded back to near-invisibility. The Istari sighed. "Well, if that is how you truly feel, then I will respect it."
Standing and stretching, Gandalf murmured to himself, "I shall have to inform Elrond of your leave. I imagine that this council will be tense enough as it stands, what with the dwarves and elves together… I am particularly worried about the son of Gloin and the proud Boromir. And goodness knows that Legolas is not one to–"
A yank on the back of Gandalf's robes stopped the man in his tracks. He turned to judge his companion with a sort of exasperated interest. "What is it, Harry? I admit that they are all good men, but when together in a room they may as well be children–"
"No," the voice, though a mere whisper, was undoubtedly that of his friend. "What of Legolas?"
"What of him?" Asked Gandalf, startled, "He is the Mirkwood elf prince, the one who you encountered many years ago after the orc attack. He just arrived last night in Thranduil's place for the Council."
"He's here?" squeaked Harry, sounding more like his apparent age than ever. The magic keeping him hidden spat and flickered, revealing the faintest outline of his friend.
"Well, yes," said the grey wizard. A flash of comprehension lit up his face, like a spark leaping from the flame. Gandalf's intrigue morphed into what could only be described as positively wicked glee. Some of his delight must have leaked into his expression for Harry immediately groaned in despair. "Harry…"
"Gandalf, don't–"
"Harry do you wish to court the prince? He is very beautiful, I must admit, but have you spoken with him? Oh, you must..." Gandalf continued to babble about courtship and the importance of presenting a proper proposal like a servant girl who dreams of a handsome lord.
Unseen, Harry placed his head in his hands and lamented the waning sanity of his closest friend. But as much as it pained him to admit it, he was glad Gandalf still had the levity to tease him in the current situation. He watched with exasperated fondness as the old man began to form a plan to introduce the two. I don't know what I'd do if he ever changed, he sighed and snagged the rambling Gandalf by the sleeve again, intending to drag him around until the other man's interest was snagged by something else. Though a little less interest into my love life would be nice.
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The patio where the council was to be held was quickly filling with esteemed members of varying races. Elrond was already seated in a grand chair, looking regal and calm. A group of dwarves threw nasty looks at the elves on the other side of the clearing, and the elves tossed their noses in the air and pretended that they were better than the rougher race. Harry could definitely see where their conflict spawned from, even without knowing the varying slights of the races against each other. The elves were all elegance and sophistication, but they were somewhat detached from the reality of the world due to their long lives and secluded abodes.
The dwarves, on the other hand, were hardy folk who lived for the rush of battle and the feel of the earth between their fingers. With two races from such different backgrounds, it was easy to understand how they would jar when together.
With his thoughts drifting so, Harry almost didn't notice when Legolas strode onto the council floor. But it was hard to miss hair that blonde and a smile that bright. Harry watched as the elf clasped arms with a strangely familiar man with windswept brown hair, again somewhat in awe of him. It was hard to think that the same elfling which Harry saved from a terrible fate so many years ago was now standing before him, strong and proud and bloody gorgeous.
Harry unenthusiastically tore his gaze away from the blonde elf to inspect the now-completed council. An entourage of men lead by a handsome, broad-shouldered brunette stuck together, warily scrutinizing the other council members. Harry resolutely avoided looking over to where Gandalf was sitting next to a small dark-haired hobbit, just knowing that the man was staring at him and glancing meaningfully over at Legolas.
The sound of leaves rustling caught Harry's attention, and green eyes rolled in vexation at the discovery of three more hobbits. If he was remembering correctly, they were companions to the dark-headed one sitting near Gandalf. He studied them carefully, pondering whether or not to reveal them. But for a brief moment, the hidden brunette and blondes faded into red, violently curly brown, and messy black.
Shaking his head softly, Harry stepped back and away from the trio. My my, he thought wryly, feeling rather nostalgic lately, eh Harry?
Focusing once again on the council, Harry realized that the proceedings had already begun. One of those horrid rings was laying innocently on the stone table in the middle of the floor. Though this one was much uglier in aura than the one that Arwen had wielded, and its magic slinked out in tendrils to coil around the council members.
He snarled lightly as one crept towards Gandalf, but was soothed when the old man batted it away. They didn't appear to do much more that incite negative emotions in the victim, so Harry grudgingly settled into a perch on a low-hanging branch behind the other wizard.
The green-eyed wizard's interest waned a bit after that, preferring instead to amuse himself by braiding bits of Gandalf's long hair. Harry listened to the basic layout of the plan for the Ring and decided that they were making its destruction much too complicated. Why not just have the Ringbearer and one or two guardians fly with the eagles to Mount Doom? It would be faster and there was a greater chance of success. But he assumed there must be some underlying meaning to the Quest he was missing and kept his much-too-logical idea to himself.
He pouted when the man stood abruptly to argue with the suddenly-incensed council. It appeared that the fools considered it an honor to bear the Ring. Harry snorted scornfully. The Bearer would be haunted by the Ring for the entirety of the journey and even after the Ring was destroyed.
The proud morons (Harry very much did not hear a snide drawl in his head which hissed, Gryffindors) continued their spat, disregarding the small voice–
"I will take the Ring!"
Harry leaned forward suddenly, balancing on the tips of his toes. The little hobbit wants to take it? Harry stared incredulously as the council quieted. What a curious thought.
Gandalf seemed resigned, apparently already accepting the young one's decision and agreeing with it. Elrond looked as though he wanted to protest, but was taking Gandalf's silence as assurance that the matter was final.
Men began to step forward and pledge themselves to the Quest, starting with Aragorn, the man who had greeted Legolas so warmly earlier. Harry eyed them speculatively. Well, he admitted reluctantly, if nothing else, they are a loyal group. Except… perhaps that one. The man– Boromir?– maintained the disdainful air he had carried since the announcement of Aragorn's claim to Gondor's throne.
He will need to be watched.
Of course, Harry would be warning Gandalf to do the watching. There was no way in hell he was going on this ridiculous Quest–
The wizard tumbled violently off his perch when the three hobbits from before came bursting out of the shrubbery. Harry sat up and patted his head mournfully. Luckily, the council was much more concerned with the unnoticed eavesdroppers and wannabe Quest-goers than some suspicious rustling.
With the addition of Merry, Pippin, and Sam– Harry calculated that the success rate of the mission had just dropped approximately thirty percent– the newly-named 'Fellowship' had nine members. He considered that a good, strong number and took no notice whatsoever of Gandalf's pleading expression. Three threes. Yes, they'd be fine.
(Of course, Harry had never actually studied magical numerology and was entirely guessing as he only remembered that three was a particularly special number)
The terrace began to clear of council members, many speaking under the breaths of the new Fellowship, praising and condemning in equal measures. Harry himself stood and straightened his clothing. He may as well catch up to Gandalf and say goodbye, goodness knows when he'd see the old man agai–
Harry froze. Leaning against the door which lead back inside, looking for all the world as though he had the weight of Arda upon his shoulders, was Legolas. A bit of frantic spinning confirmed that they were the only two left in the council's meeting area, and there was no assurance of Legolas moving anytime soon.
Shoulders slumping, Harry sighed. Though he hated to lose such a perfect chance to observe the prince, he really did need to see Gandalf…
Just as he was deliberating whether to tackle Legolas and vault over his prone body or to attempt to apparate for the first time in seven hundred years, the elf prince turned.
And stared, eyes focused on Harry's location.
Oh dear.
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Legolas frowned. Though he had understood why his father had sent him to attend the Council, he doubted that the overprotective king had meant for him to join the Fellowship.
The Fellowship… Legolas was not in the habit of criticizing those he did not know, but it was difficult to envision success in this endeavor. Half of the members had no training, battle or otherwise, Boromir was much too proud and was likely to be contradictory for the sake of doing so, Aragorn and Gandalf were not in the habit of sharing vital information with others until it was much too late, and there was a dwarf, for Nienna's sake!
Were it not for his composure, the elven prince would have been lamenting his agreement to leave his precious Mirkwood.
Legolas drew in a deep breath, attempting to steady himself- but, instead, he paused. There was something… something sharp, almost like–
Lightning in a thunderstorm.
His eyes widened and he spun, searching for the source of the scent. Flashes of screaming orcs, a ghostly black steed, and bright emerald eyes overwhelmed him. Legolas's hand twitched towards his pocket, where a small scrap of cloth lay.
He searched frantically for the man who was his savior, but just as he thought he spotted something, he heard a light gasp and a faint crack. The smell faded.
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Harry strode quietly towards the gates of Rivendell. With things finally in motion against Sauron and his allies, he planned to return to Fangorn and reinstate the defenses from the first war. He daren't leave the forest entirely unprotected, especially with the Ents remaining in Fangorn. They had refused to leave with the Entwives, claiming that the lands needed them– as did Harry. Which was entirely true, of course.
Shaking his head, Harry quickened his pace. He needed to get out onto the road before–
"Harry! HARRY!"
The wizard stopped and closed his eyes, cursing to himself. He turned, dropping his disillusion, and greeted his elder. "Hello Gandalf. I don't want to be rude, but is this important? I must be leaving so–"
Gandalf reached out and caught him by the shoulders. "You can't leave yet! What about the quest–"
"I'm not part of the Fellowship."
"–you never said hello to anyone–"
"I'm sure they don't mind."
"–what about Legolas?"
Harry's mouth tightened. Though he truly did want to get to know Legolas, he was tied so strongly to Fangorn. He could survive the destruction of his first home here by cutting the ties he held to the life force there, but he wouldn't. He loved Fangorn and the beings living there. He would never be able to forgive himself if he lost Fangorn because of his selfish lusts for a pretty face.
"…I'm sure nothing would have happened anyway." Harry shrugged Gandalf's hands off and faced the gates once again. Fangorn called to him, it needed him.
"Harry…"
Heavy cloth swayed as the wizard strode to the gates. Gandalf watched him go, equal parts disapproving and disappointed. He understood the mage's need to defend his home, but at what cost? At what point would Harry hesitate to give himself to protect others? Did that point even exist?
"Harrison?!"
A new voice broke the tense air caused by Harry's retreating footsteps. It exclaimed in utter surprise, and sounded just this side of reverent. Harry dared not turn around, but from the sound of it, the person calling out to him had just exited the main hall.
"Shit." Full lips twisted into a snarl, distorting pretty features into something fierce. He knew that voice, knew the repercussions of ignoring it, of simply walking away, back turned…
But oh, it was so tempting.
Donning the masquerade costume of social niceties, Harry turned his shoulder and dipped into a gracious bow. Though at first glance it seemed respectful, the ostentatious and exaggerated nature of the movement mocked the receiver.
Elrond, the unfortunate victim of Harry's ire, hesitated. His sharp eyes caught the hidden insult and, with a quick glance to Gandalf, understood the reasoning for it. Regardless of his companions' wishes, the wizard was a freer spirit than the wind and did not take being controlled lightly.
The elf ignored the tightening in his friend's gaze and the tenseness of his frame, moving to embrace him anyways. Harry slumped slightly into the one cradling him. He could never remain angry at Elrond– the elf loved him too much to ever actually mean him harm. "I'm glad you came," Elrond whispered into the wizard's hair. "Even if it was less with an intention to aid and more out of curiosity," he tacked on dryly, pulling back.
Harry managed a weak smile. The stress he was under was beginning to tear him down– he had so much to do, and Gandalf wanted him to add this as well? He knew Elrond didn't mean to be, but his gentle smile and warm eyes were cracking the last of his strength. The temptation to fall into the soul of someone stronger, more stable, than himself for even the smallest amount of time was shattering his patched-up sanity.
Just as his head began to fall onto Elrond's shoulder, just as his knees began to buckle, as long eyelashes fluttered and strong fingers released their grips– the main hall's doors creaked open again.
And hazy green eyes lazily met with glacial blue.
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When Legolas had been chosen to go find the wayward lord of Imladris, this was not where he had expected to find him.
He had been prepared to call out to the lord upon leaving the cozy warmth of the entrance hall, prepared to jokingly scold him for worrying his caretakers, prepared to link arms with him and discuss the final plans for the Fellowship. Legolas had not been prepared to see him intimately embracing the one man who may or may not have captured his interest solely throughout his existence.
And then those green eyes had flickered his way– and oh, what a color– and the man's head lifted from his lord's shoulder– put him down put him down he's not yours– and Legolas had been completely and utterly stricken.
He had heard from other elves that sometimes you met a person who encapsulated everything you had ever needed, wanted, been searching for. Sometimes you met more than one of these people, sometimes there was only one and you ended up letting them slip through your fingers accidently. Sometimes you didn't know how special they were to you until you had met them fifty times, sometimes it was instantaneous.
They weren't soul mates necessarily– Legolas thought soul mates were a bit silly, what if you never met them? You could never love anyone fully then, always dreaming up someone better– rather they were living, breathing manifestations of an elf's perfect emotional resonance.
At least, that's what the books said. Legolas wasn't really in the state of mind to consider anything other than how absolutely lovely it was being in the man's presence again.
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Hell, I have the worst cold right now. But I was going through my fictions and figured you guys definitely deserved an update. Now I didn't actually proofread the second half and I don't have a beta, so if you spot a mistake please feel free to inform me about it.
So whoop! Legolas and Harry finally see each other again. No direct interaction, but next chapter. Also, interpret Harry and Elrond's relationship as you will; romantically, hardcore broship, parental, I don't really mind. I'm leaving it vague on purpose.
Love you guys, seriously you rock and your reviews are a constant inspiration for me. Thank you.
-MischievousCuriosity
PS: My old fics are in desperate need of rewriting, but I have little to no motivation concerning them. If anyone would like to adopt the concepts, please shoot me a PM. But I would seriously consider a revamp before posting any of those.
EDIT: Merlenyn reminded me that Arwen is not the holder of one of the rings– thank you!