Delusional
Raven'd Fleet
Chapter Five
"Did you find him Elrohir?"
"I did." answered the elf, sealing his fate. The tall ranger stomped in, his black hair wild and untamed, his eyes just as unruly. The hellish blue swiveled before landing on Harry, calculating and precise.
"Thank the valar! Harry—What's wrong with you Harry?" asked Aragorn as he approached near, only to stop abruptly. Harry flinched and pulled back, tears swimming in his eyes while he tried to get away, to leave, to run. Only Elrohir held him firmly. "Harry..."
"No!" He shouted, only to lower his voice at the rough and broken texture, like sandpaper against marble, it burned his throat. "No more lies... No more..."
"He's hysterical," replied Elrohir while Harry tried to think straight. The young wizard glared at the traitorous elf, how dare he betray him in so many manners? How could he! "I found him in the kitchen cupboard, he'd been hiding amongst the flour and refused to answer any of our calls."
The blue eyes widened perceptibly, obviously realizing just how many times he'd run down that very hall. Harry knew though, he'd heard and counted every treacherous footstep—all thirty seven thundering times.
"Harry, what's wrong..." whispered the ranger, his voice taking a cruelly kind temperament. Harry refused to be swayed. He knew. He had heard! "Harry, please..."
He glared at Aragorn, unable to take the deception. Unable to breathe and to think and to function. His instincts screamed to run. Hadn't he heard them? Hadn't they said they would kill the fire-wizard that the elves so often ignored? The menace...
"Harry-"
"Stop!" He cried at last, cradling his arm carefully. "I already know, I heard you! I heard what you said. Why won't you just kill me and get it over?" The tears began to fall as the words crashed around him. The blurry world shook in a dizzying array as he swayed.
"What..." Aragorn started.
Harry ignored the man, already well aware that the end had come. Voldemort would be disappointed, and Riddle as well, he though as Aragorn approached. And the Dursleys too, of course; who would weed the garden and paint the fence and cook the breakfast now? But then again, Harry doubted they'd care too much. Certainly none of his friends would, they were all dead anyways, and if not now, then they would be soon.
The Ranger was upon him now, Harry could even smell him. He could smell death approaching, the slight scent of pine and sweat and that musk that belonged only to Aragorn. He shut his eyes and waited. Would they behead him? Hang him? Drown him?
The warm, calloused hands stretched around his neck. Strangling then? It seemed a horrible way to die. He tightened his fist and waited—resigned.
And waited, with trembling tremors.
And felt a warm body wash over him.
In confusion, he opened his eyes to find, instead of death, Aragorn leaning over him; dragging him into an embrace that curled his toes. His breath left him in a sudden rush.
"I was worried," whispered the man in his ear. The words calmed him slightly, soothed his aching head and cooled the inferno within. "When you refused to answer... We thought... I thought..." They separated, the coarse fingers holding his pale and clammy face. Starry blue eyes swimming in his own emerald green
He almost succumbed, then, to the supposed truth of the words. He almost believed the Ranger. But then images raced back to him. The knife pressed against his throat. The glaring, distrustful eyes. The fingers around his neck that swept him into darkness. The scolding anger. The disregard. The dismissal.
He remembered. He pulled away with new-found vigor.
"You liar!" he shouted, drawing against the bed. Using the uninjured hand, Harry reach out, groping for a weapon. His hand settled on some long and sharp object. He pulled it towards him, ignoring the pain, Elrohir's gasp, and Aragorn's muffled cry.
Looking down, he beheld a dagger covered in his own blood. He faced it towards the stupefied Ranger.
"Harry- What- What are you-"
"Don't come any closer!" the young wizard shouted, clenching the hilt of the dagger tightly despite the pain. The cold surface slipped slightly beneath his warm blood. He tried to back up more, but the bed prevented it. "I heard you. I heard what you said!"
"Harry we-"
"No!" Harry shouted again. Tears began to leak from his eyes. "I trusted you! I trusted you all—liars..." A sob broke through his angry facade, but he never lowered the weapon. Aragorn made no move to approach.
"You don't understand Harry..."
"What's there to understand?" he replied bitterly, remembering his only living family. Aunt Petunia smiled politely in his mind's eye, the action false and unrealistic. He recalled Uncle Vernon, his puce face scrunched in vehemence. He thought of his cousin Dudley, laughing wildly while pushing him cruelly to the ground. "You made your opinion most clear."
"But-"
"The wizard using fire," Harry spat. "The menace that all the elves ignore."
"I have not ignored you," whispered Elrohir, almost soothingly. The sound was serpentine and dolorous. "And neither does Elladan or ada—Lord Elrond. Little wizard, no one shall harm you here!"
Aragorn took this time to finally speak in length. "Please, Harry, listen to Elrohir. Listen, please. I was discussing Sarumon the White with Lord Elrond's advisors. The elves refuse to take part in the war, claiming it a war of men!"
Harry swallowed heavily. Could it be true? Had they indeed—No! No, he'd heard them! It couldn't have been a mistake! He'd heard them. Aragorn hated him! A trick! It had to be a trick...
"Harry, you have to believe-" started the elf. Harry ignored him.
"No! You hate me!A trick, you just want to lure me... Your just like Riddle... Just like Tom... No! I won't be tricked again!" Ginny came to mind at once, her red hair spread about her face. He tried to ignore it, the cold sickly face, the clammy hands. He tried to forget the huge serpent that had towered above him, blind and deadly. He tried...
He failed...
He always failed...
"Harry, please, I... I don't hate you—Harry..." Aragorn stopped, took a breath and stepped forward, ignoring the shaking dagger pressed in his direction. Harry made a sound, a groan as he tried to steady his hands, tried to remain upright. "Harry, I do not know of this Riddle, or this Tom, but I have never hated you. Never!"
"But the river- the dagger-" whispered the young wizard, his breathing laborious.
"You were a half-starved wild-child following us in the woods. I was hardly to trust you, especially not with The Ring of power in our grasps. But we took you in, don't you remember? We brought you with us, despite my better judgment, on Frodo's recommendation."
"Frodo never-" Aragorn broke him off with a crude and sharp laugh. The sound broke against him like a frozen gust of wind. Elrohir easily slipped from the room unseen.
"You would know not, little wizard, of our talks while you slept. Did you not wonder why you dreamed so little during our travels? Your soup was laced with herbs that left you unconscious for many hours. Frodo had recognized you from the Prancing Pony as one of the few that spoke in his defense. I must admit, I had not connected the gaunt rebellious child in our company with the heartening servant that Butterbur so loved."
Harry swallowed the guilt and lowered the Ranger's weapon. Had Butterbur truly loved him? And all he'd left was a pitiful note and a small amount of coins. But no! He couldn't let the words get to him! It didn't make sense, none of it made any sense!
"If you didn't trust me, why'd you give me my sword?"
"I had not wanted too," replied the gruff man, his blue eyes dark and shadowed as he took another step forward; only two paces from the young wizard. "But with the arrival of the Nazgul, I had little choice. You have yet to be truly honest with me, little wizard. You have kept secrets since we began refusing to share them unless absolutely necessary-"
"You had secrets too!" interrupted Harry. "You didn't tell me about the ring, or where we were going, you only just commanded me to do everything. No one ever tells me anything..." They hadn't even told him about their meeting, the one where they even talked about him! Him, Harry!
"Of course not," scoffed the ranger, lessening the width between them, Harry could almost feel his breath. Could taste the irritation and the worry. The large, worn hand took hold of the dagger's blade gently; carefully. It did not slice through his tough skin as it had Harry's. "You are a child. A wizard, yes, but a child still. It is not your place to worry over the affairs of adults—especially not matters so foul as the Dark Lord's ring."
"But I can help!"
"But you won't," answered Aragorn stiffly, jerking the dagger from Harry's limp fingers. "I have told you this before."
"But why-"
"Enough!" shouted the tall man, his eyes flashing with rage. A dark shadow crept across his face before it faded. "The fellowship is a serious journey that requires a maturity you obviously have not achieved. You may stay with the elves. However, we are far from our original discussion. Why were you standing outside my door to begin with?"
Harry ducked his head to hide the red flush.
"Harry?" He did not answer and simply pushed out his hand, showing the swollen red tissue and slightly frothing wounds. Aragorn gasped, obviously stunned. "What happened?"
"I... I cut myself with a knife," he murmured, slightly ashamed of the disgusting appearance. It made him gag to just stare at the putrid looking appendage—reminding him of Bob the hobbit.
"Indeed," agreed the Ranger, obviously sickened by the disgusting extremity. "It has been infected and is likely beyond my help. Why have you not seen to this earlier? It looks to have been open for weeks."
"I... I thought it'd just go away, like all the others-"
"Others?" echoed Aragorn, eyes narrowing. "You have been hurt like this before?"
"Well, not this bad, no, but I'm not some kind of sissy that can't do anything! I don't need mollycoddling!"
Aragorn rolled his eyes and grabbed him by the sleeve, dragging him to his feet and begun towards the door. The movement caught Harry unaware and he could do little more than sputter as the Ranger hauled him from the room.
"Wha- Where are we going?"
"To see Lord Elrond and then to send you to bed," replied the man without hesitation. "We will discuss your punishment for your behavior after your hand is seen to. Are there any other wounds that you are waiting to 'just go away'?"
"No- But-!" Harry squawked indignantly before Aragorn cut him off.
"Enough. Be silent and walk, we shall be there shortly."
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Harry Potter laid sullenly in bed, his arm, throbbing and wrapped tightly, roughly tucked beside him. Lord Elrond had not well been pleased at Harry's wounds or his emotional collapse. The great elf had poured what seemed an infinity of potions down his throat, almost drowning him in the noxious taste and horrible aroma. The elf had said the taste was to prevent him from attempting the action again.
Hermione would never have been so unkind.
But of course, Hermione was probably dead. As was Ron and Ginny and the annoying little Colin and so many others. All dead like Bob the hobbit. All because of him...
Harry shut his eyes, ignoring the dull ache. It had been months since that day and, while his heart still ached and his mind still burned with horrific scenes from the chamber and his frozen friends... The pain had lessened to a bearable burden. He found the things he'd held so tightly to had all but faded.
He could barely recall his aunt's shrill voice or the conversations he'd had with Ron over Quidditch just a few days before his departure. Even Malfoy, with all of his pale aristocracy and biased views was fading, like a long worn picture crinkles at the edges and bends in the middle.
Sighing, he released his breath and let sleep wash over him.
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Harry awoke to a gathering of hobbits in his room. Merry and Pippin had both taken the foremost area and Frodo in between them and Sam, who waited near the back. Harry gave them a stiff smile as his arm rose into agony once more. However, he had had worse. Like that time, that seemed years ago, when Lockhart had erased all the bones in his arm.
He wondered if Lockhart had managed to escape alive.
"Er- Hi guys?" Harry said, tilting his head to the side as he looked oddly at the little people filling the room. "Can I-er help you?"
Merry and Pippin both shared a look and Harry narrowed his eyes. Was something going—no! No he wouldn't think like that. He had already gotten in enough trouble for doubting these people once. He wouldn't do it again... he wouldn't be paranoid!
"We heard about your arm-" started Pippin, but Merry elbowed him sharply in reprimand. As though to talk about that might somehow wound Harry. Their pity annoyed him, but he tried to ignore it. They didn't mean anything by it.
"We heard about your accident, he means," explains Frodo kindly. Harry doesn't care for their ruthless compassion a bit. "Lord Elrond and Gandalf say you won't be well enough to see us off."
Harry froze. Surely it wasn't so bad?
He remembered the puss and swelling and winced slightly. Perhaps he'd been a bit foolish to think it would just go away. Hermione would have chided him, and Madam Promfrey, the school nurse, would have made him spend the night in the infirmary.
"Oh... When do you leave?"
"Tomorrow."
Harry felt his shock stop his breath. Tomorrow! But surely that was to soon? Could it be December already? Hadn't it only been November just a few days ago? And for it to be the end! But why hadn't anyone told him? Why hadn't Aragorn—
"We will discuss your punishment for your behavior after your hand is seen to..."
Perhaps this was his punishment? Aragorn had never come back to see him. Whenever he awoke, no one was ever there. No one to talk to. No one to soothe him. No one to ease the pain in his arms.
No one to care.
"Oh... I didn't know," the young wizard mentioned weakly. "You'll ride at dawn then?"
"Yes," nodded Merry, obviously uncomfortable. "We had wanted to say goodbye before we left though. And, that should we not succeed..." he trailed off and Harry knew the thought was haunting all the pale little faces. He wished he could do something for them. Anything.
But he could do little.
Weak, like always.
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Aragorn came at last, when the sun had begun to set, casting long shadows on the window panes and striking Harry's eyes. He, of course, could do nothing about it, unable to move except when helped to the privy, and to proud to call for help unless absolutely necessary.
The Ranger walked in wearing much the same clothes he'd seen him wear in Bree. It warmed him, and cast a cold shadow upon his heart.
"You are awake, little wizard?" inquired Aragorn, kneeling beside his bed. His black-blue eyes looked kinder than they had before, as though the coming journey lifted his spirits. Harry doubted he would ever love such danger as what visited him every year since he began Hogwarts and before it.
"Yes sir," Harry replied. Then, before he could stop himself, blurted the question that had haunted him since the hobbits' visit. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Tell you what?" asked the Ranger, obvious confused.
"That you were leaving tomorrow!" The startled man blinked twice before a small smile twitched at his mouth.
"Would you have cared?"
"Of course I would have-"
"You cannot join us though," cut in Aragorn with a rueful frown. "And I did not want you to think on such unpleasantness for I know you wish to help and cannot."
"I could though..." whispered Harry. He heard Aragorn sigh but only lowered his eyes. They had had this conversation enough times Harry didn't even bother trying to defy the Ranger anymore. He never won. It was always, your too young, or too inexperienced.
"You cannot now, though," replied the man in kind. "So let us speak of more pleasant talk."
"Such as what?" asked Harry, rolling his eyes. What could be pleasant when he was being left behind like some pathetic woman in the fairy tales?
"I have been speaking with Arwen," announced the man. His words startling Harry for a moment. Aragorn never told Harry anything about his personal life. Whatever the little wizard learned, he learned from either Bilbo or the whispers of elves. "She and her brothers have agreed to keep watch over you while we are gone. It tis a high honor, indeed."
"I suppose no one else offered?" Harry ventured with an ironic tone. "The elves would care not if I were squished out of existence."
"Perhaps you should not have cut so many of their locks," answered Aragorn in the same tone. "I imagine you are lucky at least, that some have a sense of humor. The elves are vain about their beauty and their hair is no different. What you did was rude."
"But my wand-"
"You should have asked," replied the Ranger. "But since you did not, it is of no consequence now. You shall remember this lesson I hope?"
"Yes sir."
"Good," smiled the man. Harry tried to smile back but the pain from his arm made his mood somewhat sour and unpleasant. "There is one more thing I should much like to speak with you of."
"Yes?"
"Should Frodo and the ring fall into the hands of Sauron," Harry gasped at the idea. Surely not! But Aragorn continued anyways in a grim fashion. "Should this happen, I have asked Lord Elrond to take you with him to the undying lands. It is the land of the Valar and home of the Istari. I ask, that should we fail, that you will hurry with him to cross the great sea. Perhaps as a wizard yourself, you will be allowed safe passage."
"But I do not wish to go there!" Harry retorted, how could he ask such a thing? "I want to stay with you! I don't want to live with the elves, they're old and uptight and most of them hate me!" He didn't want to live with people who hated him. Would the elves lock him in a cupboard too? Would they refuse him food as well?
"Do not say that," commanded Aragorn suddenly with anger and authority. "Should Sauron win and regain the ring of power, all hope is lost. Leave this forsaken land. Leave and ask the Valar to return you to your home."
Harry closed his eyes. He wouldn't go. He wouldn't leave his friends! He couldn't! Not again...
"Forgive me Harry," spoke the man suddenly weary. "It has been a long week and the fellowship leaves at dawn. I should leave you... But... Should we succeed. I-" the man stuttered for a moment here and Harry couldn't help but stare at the man he revered in awe with a little trepidation. "Should we succeed, I would like for you too-"
He cut off when a knock came to the door and Lord Elrond entered.
"My lord," bowed Aragorn, cutting off as he showed respect the elf lord.
"Estel," smiled Elrond. "And Harry," the smile lost much of it's flavor then. "It is time for the young wizard to sleep. Is there anything you'd like to say before you part?" Put that way, Harry could feel a list of things coming to mind. So many questions like where he was born, why he eats the potatoes without butter but uses so much salt? They all tumble through his mind for a moment before it settles on a blank nod.
Looking expectantly at the Ranger, Harry wondered if he would continue his words. But he blushes and ducks his head.
"No, sir. I was just leaving," He turns to Harry then, and Harry only then notices how red the pale face really is. And how dark the blue eyes appear. "Good Night little wizard."
Harry bids the man goodnight before drinking again a foul potion.
Disgusting objects. Perhaps the Elf Lord was attempting to poison him with nasty drinks? He wouldn't put it past the angry elf. With that, he fell swiftly to sleep.
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Harry was not awake to see the fellowship off. They left without warning or goodbye, except the ones from earlier, which to Harry, quickly seemed little enough. So many perils wrought the journey ahead, it could be well expected that they all died in the quest. In fact, it was unlikely for any to return home.
The thought suddenly disturbed him and left him perturbed.
Why hadn't he said more? Why hadn't he hugged Sam as the hobbit had wished? Boromir had wanted to visit, but Harry had been to busy to hear him. To disheartened by the prospect of his only friends farewell. And now he was alone.
Utterly and completely alone.
But when was he not?
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A few days after the fellowship's departure, Harry was allowed to leave his bed. His arm, though, was still unsettlingly sore. Perhaps it was Lord Elrond retribution? However, if he ever wanted to be of any use to anyone, he would need to train and make his wand.
Someone, obviously, must have understood that, for they left three strands of long black hair that waved and curled at the ends. He didn't know who the pieces belonged to, but for some odd reason, they looked familiar.
Of course, the person who left them must have been exceptionally vain. To think their hair might be the one not tried? Probably an elf. Only, no elf truly liked Harry, or so he thought, with the exception of maybe Lady Arwen and the young Lord Elrohir.
But he set out to crafting a wand with a single of the three hairs and oak.
Oddly, after ten fire spells, the wand still did not flare as expected.
The experience was exhilarating. He'd finally found the correct core! At once he set about to making the perfect wand, using holly and two of the mysterious hairs. Rumors filtered the marble and majestic halls of Lord Elrond of the cause for his inexplicit joy.
"Come little wizard," spouted Elrohir from beside his brother Elladan. "You've suffered over that goblet a week since you were released from bed. The Lord of the Kitchens worries you shall set alight all his fine ale and wines. Let us go and spar, I wish to test your wellness!"
"Ah. Then know I am well enough to kill a blind snake and leave me in peace," Harry replied in kind. He almost laughed at the strangeness of the words. Since when did he talk like that? To much time around Bilbo, most likely. The little hobbit had passed the days with him and was never to be found far.
"A blind snake, you say?" inquired Elladan curious as elves are prone to be. Harry recognized his voice as being more gruff than his brother's and did not turn from his work. "Did you blind it as well?"
"No. I only stabbed it in the mouth."
The two elves snorted in amusement.
"And why not simply hack off it's head, as young mortals such as yourself are prone to do?"
"Because, I was busy trying not to be eaten," Harry replied in kind before standing. He waved the wand at the flame and watched it snuff out as though a candle stick. Making certain the last traces of fire were gone, the green eyed boy thrust his hand into the ornate goblet, covering it with the alcohol.
"What are you-" He didn't answer, instead moving his wand and calling forth the flame.
"Incendio..." He heard the twins gasp and smirked in triumph. Ignoring the pain from the heat, Harry lifted the fire upwards, watching it dance just above his hand. He kept it there with some difficulty, breathing heavily after only a few seconds when it dropped. Harry gasped in pain at the burn, his eyes watering as he scowled, quickly banishing it away.
"Oh my! Very well done," replied a voice, neither Elladan or Elrohir. Turning, he looked up to see Bilbo clapping from the doorway. "I hadn't thought you'd manage it." Harry grinned in achievement. He had succeeded just as he had said he would! He wasn't weak or stupid! He wouldn't be left behind again!
"So you'll give me the maps?" Harry asked before he realized the company he was in.
"What maps?" Elrohir asked suddenly, voice suspicious. Harry could have cursed his folly. The twins would hardly let him follow after the fellowship, they'd been shadowing him already since the group left.
"Maps of Rivendell!" Harry invented instantly, only to realize exactly how lame that sounded. All three stared at him, and Harry ducked his head to hide a blush. "Er... Kind of..."
"Indeed, kind of," mocked Elladan with annoyance. "What do you take us for, trolls? You're planning on following the fellowship!"
"Quiet!" Harry hissed, glaring at the twins before looking quickly about himself. "Someone will hear!"
"Then let them hear," glared Elladan, his black hair swinging as he raised his voice. "Aragorn told you specifically to stay!"
"Aragorn is not my father! He doesn't command me." Elrohir opened his mouth to reply when his brother beat him to it.
"And what would your own father say?" asked the elf. He heard Bilbo gasp lightly and felt his own stomach twist in a painful knot.
"I wouldn't know," Harry replied coldly, ignoring the painful lump in his throat and the tears stinging his eyes. "My parents were both murdered."
He turned away, clutching his wand tightly and heard Bilbo in the background saying something he couldn't quite make out. He felt angry, furious even! He needed to get out, needed to get away. Picking up his speed, he ran from the hall, ignoring the people around him as he tried to get away.