Title
Raven'd Fleet
Chapter Two
Harry tried to glance down at the water, in hopes to see his attacker's reflection, but the man obviously realized it and pressed the knife harder.
"Why are you following us boy?"
Gulping down his fear, Harry did the only thing he could think to do. Pushing himself backwards into the man, he pressed his elbow into the groin area and threw his fist upwards, barely missing the jaw and hitting the nose instead. A hot liquid spread across his hand and he stomped on the foot. Harry stumbled away, ignoring his nude state as he scrambled to get his sword.
"Who are-" Harry paused, pulling his glasses to his face and looking at the bowed man. "Strider!"
Harry lowered his blade slightly but refused to take his eyes off the ranger now nursing his bleeding nose and other more painful areas. Harry was just about to ask the man exactly what the hell he thought he was doing when four midget sized bodies threw themselves against him. Painfully pushing Harry against the ground amongst the pine needles and rocks, a smirking ranger overhead.
"Strider, are you alright?" asked one of the little people atop Harry. He recognized the voice vaguely but couldn't name it. "We heard a shout-"
"And we thought you were in trouble-" rambled another one, Harry felt a pair of feet kick him in the side and grunted. What had he done to deserve this?
"Yes and-"
"Enough," commanded Strider, as he bent down, putting the knife far to close to Harry's throat. "You're to come with us. Grab your clothes. Sam, grab his sword and Merry, you grab his bag." He looked down at Harry, blue eyes darker than the night. "Attempt to run and you will most assuredly die."
With that, he motioned the people atop him to move and Harry, with strained slowness, stood and put on the still wet clothes. Despite the chill, Harry walked as best he could back to the group's camp a good walk away.
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"Why were you following us?" asked Strider once more, his face a hard line.
"Because you were going the same way I was." He replied, the same answer he'd given the last five times. He didn't know why the man kept asking it.
"And how do you know we are 'going the same way?'" the man inquired.
"Because you were moving East." Harry frowned as he heard the hobbits give a little titter and eat the handsome rabbit. He wanted some, but new better than to ask. They hardly trusted him anyways.
"There are many cities to the East," Strider clarified. "How do you know we are destined for the same one?"
"'Cause," answered Harry in a frustrated tone as he tried to hide a yawn. "I'm not sure which city I'm going to."
"So you admit to following us?"
"Yes," he answered simply.
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why were you following us?"
Harry gave out a strangled growl and glared at the man. "Because we were going the same way!"
"You can't be sure of that."
Yes he could, he wanted to say, but Harry simply shut his mouth and pulled his legs closer to him. He heard a rustle and looked to see Mr. Underhill, the vanishing hobbit from Bree, staring at him with a slight frown.
"Mr. Harry, why were you following us?" asked the hobbit.
"Because we were-"
"Then why did you hide?" asked Mr. Underhill, cutting him off. "Why did you not come join us?"
"Because..." he trailed off, unsure. Because they were strangers? Because they could hide themselves so well? Because he didn't want them to hear him scream in the night? "I don't know."
The hobbit gave him sad eyes, as though he knew it was a lie.
"Well, we'd best be getting some sleep," decided a round hobbit with blondish curls. "Strider, do you want one of us too-"
"No," the man said as he backed away and leaned against a tree. "Sleep Sam, we have a long way to travel."
Harry saw them all nod in agreement and sighed softly. He wished his owl Hedwig were here, she'd cheer him up for sure. Laying back against the cold ground, Harry tried to remember the snowy owl with her kind yellow eyes.
Slowly, he descended to slumber.
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The darkness was wanning, the thick, putrid smell of death and decay growing stronger and stronger as he ran. It was chasing him, the basilisk with the bloodied eyes. He could hear it behind him, hear it's words as it slithered.
"Kill kill kill"
He ran and ran and ran, and he turned, watched the mouth crash about him, the fang driving into his arm. The poison and Fawke's tears.
Hermione stood before him, her face livid.
"Where are you Harry? Come home! Come home!"
"Come on mate," shouted Ron from the side. "We're waiting for you!"
"But I can't..." he tried to tell them. "My wand, I don't have a wand!"
They both laughed at him, and then they were multiplying. Seamus and Neville and Dean were all laughing as well as Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. He watched them laugh, watched them point. Watched them blur.
"Harry! Harry!"
"Harry!"
He awoke with a start, his eyes coming open despite the crust around them as he looked up in alarm. He found Strider above him, blue eyes narrowed in confusion and something else.
"What...?" He glanced around to see the entire camp looking at him with fear and confusion.
"You were having a nightmare, Mr. Harry," answered Sam quietly. "Screamin' and shoutin' and all the like. Strider there was trying to wake you but you wouldn't..."
He frowned and nodded, looking down. A tense silence filled the area before Strider pulled himself to his feet, one last uncertain glare towards Harry.
"We leave in five minutes, you'd best pack quickly." And with that, the man faded from sight into the woods.
Hungry, Harry wondered if he should attempt to get food from his bag or ask the hobbits for some. He had no chance to ask for it, though, when Strider came back to make them hurry.
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"Say, Mr. Harry," spoke one of the hobbits about an hour into the walk. Merry, he thought the boy's name to be, or perhaps it was Pippin. The two were practically inseparable anyways. "What land do you hail from?"
"England," Harry replied with a small smile. Frodo, he noticed, looked back curiously and with confusion.
"I've never heard of such a place. Is it a part of Gondor?"
"No," the green eyed boy answered, unsure of where Gondor was. "It's an island in the far north, I think."
"What's it like?" inquired Sam curiously. "Does it have hobbits?" Harry frowned thoughtfully, unsure. They had midgets, he knew, but none quiet like the hobbits he'd met. None quiet like Bob...
"If so, I've never met them. But we do have gnomes and centaurs," he admitted, remembering his time in the forbidden forest and when he'd helped de-gnome the Weasley's garden earlier in the summer.
"Gnomes and Centaurs?" asked Frodo, finally joining in. "I've never heard of such people. What are they like?"
"Well," began Harry, thinking back to the mysterious inhabitants of the Forbidden forest. "The Centaurs are half horse half man and they're very mysterious and vague. Always talking about the stars and planets..."
"They sound almost like elves," replied Frodo thoughtfully. Harry noticed Sam perk at the words and smiled remembering Dobby the house-elf that had attempted to save him by trying to beat him up.
"We have elves as well," Harry answered and went on to describe the other creatures he knew of while listening to fascinating tales about a hobbit named Bilbo.
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"Harry, do not jest!" laughed Merry merrily. "No children of eleven could defeat a troll!"
Harry laughed as well, realizing at once how strange it sounded as he ate the food on his plate ravenously. He'd ended up telling them of a few of his adventures; stories of the ghost at his school and man-eating plants. Most of the time they didn't understand, but sometimes, such as these, they did. "But we did. Ron managed to levitate his club above his head while I distracted it."
"What I would like to know," interrupted Strider as he entered camp once more from his scouting, "is where the adults were during this excitement."
The hobbits looked on as Harry blushed red and lowered his eyes slightly in shame.
"They off searching the dungeons-"
"You had dungeons!" shouted Sam, his eyes wide, and Harry realized his mistake.
"Well yes, but no one was tortured in them if that's what you think—well, not unless you count potions—but still! It was just an old castle, and where was I..."
"The adults?" reminded Pippin, leaning forward in his seat.
"Yes well, while they were searching the dungeons, the troll had somehow gotten upstairs to the girl's loo-"
"The girl's what?"
"Loo," Harry answered, before feeling utterly stupid. These people had chamberpots, not loos. "The room where only girls use the chamberpots."
"But why would-" started Merry, but Sam cut him off with a hard glare, wanting to hear the full story. "Never mind."
"Yes, so we were looking for Hermione, who had left to cry in the loo because of something we'd said, when we found the troll, or rather it found us. The thing was enormous and smelled fouler than Pippin's cooking." He watched them laugh and smiled as well. "It was about to smash Hermione to bits, so we didn't have time to go get adults."
Strider nodded, though his eyes still seemed distrusting.
Harry wondered if the man would ever look at him with anything but.
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"Weathertop Mountain..." Harry whispered as he looked on towards the distant hill not quite as tall as those that surrounded Hogwarts. He wished he were back with his friends, wished none of this had ever happened.
Looking up, he stared at the silhouette of the moon—it's light broken in a laughing crescent. Night had fallen long ago and the hobbits were well asleep. He didn't bother to wonder where Strider was, the man could be anywhere and everywhere at the same time.
Vaguely, he remember walking under a light much the same as he tried to follow the spiders.
He gave a weak chuckle and hugged his legs to his chest. Aragog had not been the least bit happy to see Ron or himself. The giant Spider had gone so far as to send his baby spiders after them for a tasty morsel. Thankfully Ron's dad's car rescued them from the monsters. He gave a watery smile. They'd used the car to get to school and had crashed into the Womping Willow, a more violent tree he'd never met.
Snape had found them, of course. He'd been made to serve detention. He grinned, recollecting on Lockhart's fan-mail, only to frown, recalling the invisible voice and the attacks. Ms. Norris, Colin Creevy, Nearly Headless Nick... Hermione had figured it out, she always did.
He felt the tears well up but pressed them back. Hermione, the bushy haired genius with buck teeth, and Ron, the red haired Weasley from a poor but loving family that could out maneuver anyone in chess. He missed them both and closed his eyes with a soft sob.
He had to be strong.
He couldn't cry... he couldn't... he couldn't... he...
He broke down and let the tears flow, oblivious to anything besides the pain and loss. He never noticed the blue eyes that watched on in silence.
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It took two long days of walking, but the group finally managed to make it to the top of Weathertop Mountain. When they did make it, Harry found the sight breathtaking. Miles on every side of nothing but trees and wilderness. The world around him seemed to spread out for an eternity, disappearing behind the sun's bright glare and the sky's heavy mantle.
"We found it Strider!" Harry looked over and frowned as he watched them gather around a small stone, almost insignificant in the beautiful ruins. "Gandalf! Gandalf was here!"
The green eyed youth frowned. They knew Gandalf? But weren't wizards supposed to keep their magic to themselves? But then again, Butterbur had known—but Harry had thought that just a coincidence, maybe he'd had muggleborn children, or had married a witch. Looking back now, Harry found the assumption ridiculous.
Looking back at the horizon, something caught his eye.
Black shadows moving across the Earth... Looking closer, Harry's forehead and forearm both lit with pain as he stumbled backwards, slipping on the rocks as he went.
"Harry?" called Frodo, having noticed his fall.
"Shadows..." he gushed, still feeling the echoes of pain. "Moving shadows..."
Strider strode forward, looking out before cursing angrily in some language Harry didn't recognize. He pulled Harry to his feet and motioned for them to move together. He went to Bill the pony and took out several clothes, handing each hobbit a dagger and Harry his sword.
"You'd do best," whispered Strider, his blue eyes hard and fierce, "not to mislead my trust, Harry of England." He stood then, pushing Harry towards the hobbits. "They have seen us and will be here by nightfall. Ready yourselves for battle."
Harry fidgeted, having not fought since the basilisk but made no other comment. Looking at the hobbits, he watched them huddle together, obviously terrified.
"Harry..." whispered Merry, when the light of the sun had almost all disappeared. "What are you doing? Aren't you scare?d"
He smiled tightly at the hobbit before nodding and looking back towards the wood in his hand. Maybe if he could just make a wand... he'd asked to borrow Strider's knife and the man had allowed it, though suspiciously. "I'm making a... well it doesn't matter. But of course I'm scare! But you just have to bare it, everything'll be alright if you just don't stop."
Merry frowned but nodded all the same. He looked about ready to say something else when a high-pitched shriek filled the air.
"They're here..." whispered Frodo, and Harry fought the urge to look at the small hobbit after the strange tone. But indeed, the shadows were there.
"Give it too us..." whispered one of the riders as two more easily joined it. Black Riders... He stared after them, the pain in his forehead horrible and unrelenting. "Give it to us..."
"Never!" he heard Frodo shout, and the battle commenced, if it could be called that. He lifted the sword, ignoring the pain in his arm as he swung the blade forward, only to hear it ring with the other creature's blade.
He fought as best he could, moving clumsily and with neither grace nor balance. The creature blocked his attempts easily, flinging him back even as he tried to move forward. He fell into one of the stones behind him harshly and heard a voice call his name.
Ears ringing, Harry forced himself to his feet, only barely able to stand before he threw himself at the rider headed for Frodo. He wouldn't loose another. Hermione's face, frozen in terror. Ginny's red hair flowing about her as though in slumber. Bob's brown eyes, startled in a silent scream.
He felt the rage and pulled on it for strength, feeding it with memory after memory.
"Scared Potter?" Malfoy drawled, his blonde hair shimmering beneath the glow of candles as they faced off, his wand rising up in salute.
"You wish!" Harry replied in turn, pulling his own wand up.
He moved forward, pulling the sword down with a mighty force and colliding it with the other object blocking his way. He sneered and pulled the make-shift wand from his pocket, hopping beyond hope it worked. What had Hagrid said? Wandless magic done when one was feeling frightened or angry...
He pulled once more on his rage, trying to focus it through the stick.
"INCENDIO!"
A slight spark lit up the end and Harry watched it jump onto the Rider's cloaks before becoming a blazing inferno as the wand crumbled to ash. The Rider shrieked angrily and in fear as it ran from the area. Drained, Harry fell to his knees just in time to see Frodo disappear once more and to watch a different rider stab him with his blade.
Harry felt the bile rise up in his throat as Frodo returned, his body slumped against the ground, his shoulder bleeding. He watched Strider chase away the last of the riders, his torch inflaming them easily.
"He's been wounded," stated Strider, his voice tight and tired at the same time. "The blade is poisoned. Sam, I need you to find me Athelas. It's also called Kingfoil-"
"I know that one!" shouted Sam as he moved away, dagger out. "Don't worry Mr. Frodo, I'll be right back."
"Pippin, grab some wood," instructed Strider. "Merry go fill a pan with water."
"What should I do?" Harry asked Strider, his voice hollow and gritty. He saw the man open his mouth to answer, but then watched him close it momentarily in thought.
"Are you hurt?" asked the man. Harry might have called the tone kind, if not for the grim and uncaring nature behind it. Harry shook his head before wincing at the motion. Frodo need attention, not him. He'd be fine, he always was, but Frodo wouldn't and he couldn't loose another. Not like Bob... Face frozen in horror and death, mouth bleeding and eyes wide and unseeing.
"You're lying," Strider murmured, his thumb wiping away something from his head. "It would be easier to trust you if you would tell the truth."
"But I-"
"Enough," the ranger stared at him for a moment before seeming to decide something. "How old are you, boy?"
"Twelve," Harry answered, unsure of why he'd be asked such a question. He saw no response except the slight stiffness in the man's body. "Why? Shouldn't you be helping Frodo?"
"Frodo is beyond my ability to help at the moment."
Harry lost his breath. Beyond his help? Beyond... No! He wouldn't loose Frodo! No, he couldn't! "No... No!"
"You fought valiantly today," stated Strider, his words moving Harry oddly. Frodo slipped from his mind as the ranger moved forward, his hands coming up and around his neck, and then, before he realized what was happening, his eyes were rolling backwards and he was falling to the ground.
He didn't remember ever hitting it though.
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"Harry," called a familiar voice he vaguely recognized. "Come on Harry, it's time to awake. It's well past Morn."
He opened his eyes slowly to a blur of blue and yellowed gray. Looking around, he noticed they'd moved, but he didn't remember ever walking.
"Wh-" he stopped talking, feeling the painful hoarsness in his voice. How long had he been asleep?
"Here Harry, Strider said you'd need it when you woke up." A burning liquid rushed past his lips and Harry couldn't help but sputter at the awful taste.
"That's disgusting!"
He heard laughter and glared at the faces, only to stop at the slight smile on Frodo's face. The young hobbit looked pale and far from healthy.
"Frodo...?" the little hobbit gave a small smile before closing his eyes.
"We'll be upon Rivendell in a day or so," spoke a deep voice. Harry looked up to see Strider standing broad-shouldered and grim before them all. "It'd be best to go on now that we are all awakened."
Harry frowned before turning to Sam.
"How long have I been asleep?"
"Five days and five nights on the morrow," responded Sam sullenly. "Me thinks, it'd have been more, but Strider was tiring from your burden."
Strider was... His eyes flew towards the ranger already moving the hobbits about. Had he carried him for five days? Surely not! But then... Harry frowned and glared at his feet, feeling his face flush in embarrassment. No one had ever carried him, well perhaps his mother, but he could hardly recall her, except green flashes in the middle of the night.
"Harry?"
Harry smiled and picked up his bag and his sword, noticing at once that some of the blood had been wiped away. He held it close and begun walking, it would be a very long day.
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The party was sitting under the shadow of a group of Trolls, Pippin had mistaken for live ones earlier. Apparently Gandalf the wizard had turned them all to stone while he was Traveling abroad with Frodo's Uncle Bilbo. Eating food, a rabbit Strider had caught in the wild, a sudden sound of horse hooves resounded through the air. Harry glanced sideways, feeling the fear well in his belly. Riders... The Black Riders had found them.
He stood suddenly, grabbing his sword and bag and pulling Pippin to his feet. They need to hide. They wouldn't outrun the monsters, but they could conceal themselves in the forest to wait and let the riders pass them.
Harry kicked the remains of the fire, burying the ashes under dirt.
"Hurry!" Strider cried as he pushed Merry onward into the woods near himself. "Hide!"
The hooves were getting louder and louder as they dashed as deep into the woods as they dared; Sam leading Frodo, still sick from the poisoned blade, while Pippin rocked with fright beside him. Harry could see him sweating despite the October sky and listened without thought to his incessant mumbling, almost singing, almost as though in prayer. Strider had ducking down, half hidden near the road, his body taunt and rigid and eyes darting about.
Harry's gaze attached itself once more to the road. Searching... Searching for any sign of the dark riders.
The hooves were growing nearer like a broad storm chasing through the skies... They were almost upon them, the roaring clatter of stomping hooves deafening.
Suddenly something large voluminous bursts out from the bushes. Harry only a had a moment to glance at the figure as he crouched down, dragging Pippin with him to the ground.
Heart pounding in his chest and throat, Harry could hear the rider stop, the horse's distinct neighs as it pawed the ground. Pippin covered his ears at the noise, and Harry tried to swallow a whimper of his own.
"Hail! Hail and well meet! It is I, Glorfindel!" The voice sounded like nothing he'd ever heard. Light and melodically, the green eyed youth ignored his curiosity, well aware of what it might mean should he be wrong. He kept his head ducked low and Pippin with him.
"Glorfindel!" cried Strider, having betrayed his hiding place. "Come out friends, we shall find no enemy from this rider!"
"Indeed not," replied Glorfindel as Harry pulled Pippin cautiously to his feet, still unsure with his own heavy blade carefully outstretched and ready to wield. The blonde man seemed to radiate power and light, his face ethereal and youthful despite his obvious wisdom and age. The angelic creature looked towards Frodo. "Alas, he is beyond my healing. Come, young hobbit. My horse shall bare you to Rivendell safely."
Harry frowned as the man pulled the hobbit up off the pony and onto his own steed. Strider seemed to find it acceptable though, his face still alight with a sturdy grin.
"Come, we must make haste," announced Glorfindel as he motioned for them to move, "I have ridden for nine days in search of you and your burden. There are five enemies behind us. They wish to trap us here."
Harry hauled up his sword and bag and begun to follow after the two. They marched for what seemed an eternity, only stopping to rest when Merry tripped and Sam begged he could go no further. They were allowed to rest and eat for a few moments before the demonic man roused them once more, giving them some burning liquid that somehow seemed to revive.
At a breakneck pace that seemed to tire even Strider, they passed through the hills and mountainous region, stopping only when absolutely necessary and rising once more to journey even through night.
"The ford of Rivendell..."
Harry looked up, his green eyes falling upon the auburn curls of Merry's still head.
"Merry?" murmured Harry, unsure and curious. "Is something wrong?"
"No..." the hobbit shook his head a mustered a tired grin. "It is only that we have come a very long way from home. Is it not beautiful?"
Harry looked down at the ravine, watching the water trickle, he prepared to answer when the demon-man cut him off.
"Fly! Fly! The enemy is upon us!" cried Glorfindel as he twisted around, gold hair flying in the wind while he drew his sword. Harry felt his gut clench and looked towards Frodo, still pale and sickly as the majestic white horse took flight.
Harry stopped running almost as soon as he had, drawing a thin red-wood wand from his pocket. He'd been carving it as best he could since he'd awoken after their race from Weathertop, having to start again six times, Harry had finally managed to get it the proper size and weight as his old one.
Looking down at the carved stick, Harry hoped it worked.
Fire. Fire. Fire.
He continued the mantra even as he heard the horses neigh and the black riders break past the gate and Glorfindel's defenses.
Fire. Fire. Fire.
The sound of approaching hooves was coming closer, the pain in his scar growing more uncomfortable by the second. Images were reawakening, the sound of a dying scream and a high pitched laugh. Flashes of green and the roar of a motor. Dudley chasing him up a tree. Aunt Petunia refusing him a lolly. Uncle Vernon pushing him in the cupboard beneath the stairs.
Fire. Fire. Fire.
The letters that announced him a wizard. Hagrid. Hermione and Ron. A talking hat.
Fire. Fire. Fire.
He opened his eyes watching the black hooded demons near him. Without glancing down, he raised the wand to his eyes, remembering the heat and the light and the power. He wouldn't let them have Frodo. He wouldn't loose another...
Hermione. Ginny. Bob.
Not Frodo, not Frodo.
"INCENDIO!"
He felt the magic rush from him, as though plunged in an icy sea. Two of the creatures shrieked in horror, their black cloaks alight again, while the other two chased around him, bound for Frodo.
Falling to his knees, he watched in satisfaction as the creatures fled in terror and pain, taking with them his pain and consciousness.
As though into a black abyss, Harry descended numbly.