A/N: okay, so I'm finally able to update. It didn't quite cover everything I wanted because of the mere length, oh well it worked out well enough. One would think I've been taking a break, considering how long I actually take to update, but I haven't I've begun to write the chapters out of order. I could say more but i forgot, so I guess if you haven't skipped this then onto the actual chapter.
Chapter 10: A Taste of Home
Harry's eyes opened, startled from his sleep. Whether the state of finding himself asleep, the slight chill, Ron's raucous snores, or the sound of voices had startled him awake, he was not sure.
Removing himself from the tangle of blankets, he sat up. As he attempted to look around, he noticed a semi-transparent black line between a field of clear surroundings and a field of blurred colors. The results of his glasses, which rested skewed upon his face.
After a slight adjustment of them, he took a true look at his surroundings. Ron lay asleep, snoring like some wild animal; Legolas's bedding lay empty as though unused. Harry's eyes swept the cave for the missing elf. Aside from the fire's bits of broken wood, which remained where the flames burned the night before, nothing else stood out in the cave.
As he stared at the blackened wood, the memory of the night before flashed into his mind. Ettelwen sat before an un-fueled flame. Her expression unintelligible as she told her story. The memory receded to the back of his mind as Ettelwen's voice rang in his ears.
Harry's eyes found the source of the sound at the mouth of the cave. Two figures stood together at the entrance, Legolas stood with his back to the cave and Ettelwen stood with him, her back to the snow
"…Horses wait where the snow clears," said Ettelwen, quietly.
"We do not require haste. The horses are not necessary," replied Legolas calmly.
"You are mistaken," corrected Ettelwen gravely, "It is uncertain how long these lands will be safe. The shadow has grown, already it has reached the borders of the realms of men: whispers now spread of Isengard." Ettelwen's gaze shifted. Her eyes rose above Legolas's shoulder. Amethyst locked with Emerald, the unwavering gaze caused a great wave of uneasiness to wash over the young wizard. "Mellonron aa' termarava rashwe (1)."
Harry looked away focusing his eyes on the folds in the blanket, as Legolas began to speak. The elf-prince's voice dropped to a near-inaudible whisper.
"What have you heard?" asked Legolas, darkly.
"No more than whispers, it is not safe to discuss them here," she answered looking back at the elf.
"Often do you use those words to evade an answer," sighed Legolas.
"Their truth does not wane," she answered quietly. Her soft voice spoke defensively confirming the truth behind her words. Once again she looked up at Harry and spoke plainly, "Our young companion is awake."
Legolas stood momentarily stunned by the change of subject as she brushed past him. He watched her for a moment before he sighed again and followed her into the cave. After only a few steps, a familiar giant wolf peaked into the opening of the cave. A small satchel hung from between her teeth. Morie made a small whimper, alerting the elf and witch to her presence.
Legolas stopped and turned. He returned to the entrance of the cave. The wolf sniffed the prince's out-stretched hand before dropping the bag into it. Before turning back around, the elf stroked the magnificent wolf's nose. Morie happily received the friendly touch before leaving the entrance.
When Legolas returned to the cave, the wolf walked back to the snow covered mountains. Her silver fur soon lost amongst the snow-white terrain.
Within the interior of the cave, Ettelwen gave her attention to the dead fire circle. Much to Harry's surprise, she dropped her hand into the ashes, sifting through the charred fragments of wood. In the sea of white ash, the red pieces emerged into the open air.
"Er…Ettlelwen—" started Harry slowly.
"Wake Ron," replied Ettelwen shortly. "We should leave soon."
Harry did as he was told. As he moved away, he glanced at her face. The distance he could recall seeing in her eyes had spread. Her whole presence felt far away. Ron woke with a grumble and mild resistance, as Legolas arrived at Ettelwen's side.
"This is yours, is it not?" asked Legolas as he held out the bag for her.
With her free hand she took the leather satchel. In the open palm of her other hand, small broken chips of wood held a steady glow. Yet where the reddened wood met her skin, there was no sign of the burning heat. Without turning from her task, she spoke to the elf-prince.
"You did not need to retrieve that."
"Yet, I did," countered Legolas, as he walked away towards his bedding.
Ettelwen did not bother with a response and returned to her task with the coals. She laid a small sliver of wood against the coals in her hand. She coaxed the dying coals to return to life. The wood burned to ash and the once blackened remains turned red.
Still rubbing sleep from his eyes, Ron sat up, yawned and attempted to speak.
"Is….there…..anythin…to eat?" he managed to stammer out.
"No more than your own rations," replied Legolas as he rejoined the group by the fire, placing his neatly rolled blanket on the ground near his feet. "I assume you haven't eaten it all."
Legolas said this with an amused smile. Even without Ron's uneasy silence, the elf already knew the truth.
"It was only an extra bite," sheepishly mumbled the red headed teenager, his ears turning a light shade of pink.
Harry couldn't help but smile at his friend. Ron looked up and saw the expression on Harry's face.
"What?" Ron exclaimed innocently, "I was hungry. It's not as though you haven't. Your stomach grumbles just the same as mine."
Harry only laughed in response, and even Legolas chuckled along as well. Ron laughed, though quieter, for the pink had yet to fade from his ears. The mood died abruptly when Ettelwen's bag landed at Harry's feet.
"Inside there is bread and dried fruit, take it."
Those last words weren't truly a command, yet they did not come across any nearer to a request or a suggestion than a direct order. Still, Harry could not help but take them as such. He bent down, picking up the satchel. A simple knot held the bag closed and with its release it opened easily. Trying to ignore the actual contents, Harry searched through it. The bit of food was easy enough to find, wrapped in its own piece of cloth. When he pulled it out an item in the bag caught his eye: an item he could not ignore.
"You may take those as well," said Ettelwen, knowing perfectly well what the boy had found. "They belong to you."
Once more Harry reached his hand into the bag. He wrapped his cold fingers around the thin polished strips of willow and holly. Without really thinking, he separated the two wands, and handed both the food parcel and a wand to Ron.
Harry stared at his own wand, which he held limply in his hand. He had never noticed the subtle uneven contour of the wood's surface or the thin and fragile nature of the wood itself. The warmth of empowerment he always felt since that day at Olivander's was gone. For the first time in five years, the thin piece of wood felt awkward and almost foreign within his hand.
The unnerving feeling would not fade. In an uneasy level of frustration, Harry shoved the wand deep into his pocket. Still, the feeling lingered. Ettelwen's voice came to his ears and only by focusing on the words did the feeling retreat.
"….spells may not work as you expect them too," Ettelwen's voice held a tone of warning and seriousness, but with Harry's distracted mind he could not be sure of the words he heard.
As if to atone for his inattentiveness, Harry would not allow his eyes to wander from her. Ettelwen's attention returned to the embers once more. Even now with their fiery incandescence they rested plainly on her bare flesh. She placed her empty hand above the other and slowly but without hesitation, she brought her two hands together. A slight twitch of her eyes gave Harry the only hint that she could actually feel the heat in her hands. With the embers still in place between her hands, she began to rub them together in a sort of pattern that resembled the way a child would turn a piece of clay into a ball.
As she continued, the red light seen both between and through her hands dimmed. The space between her hands, filled by the embers, grew. When she pulled her hands apart, what looked like two glass orbs, both slightly larger than a walnut, rested in both palms. She held out one to each Harry and Ron. Neither of the boys moved.
"They are to keep you warm," she reassured them simply. "We will only travel in the snow for a few more hours, the orbs should last that long. If I had returned sooner, perhaps the cold would have been more bearable."
Harry and Ron took one of the spheres. A small what-appeared-to-be glass ball only slightly larger than the golden snitch rested in Harry's hand. Under a frosty gray surface, the glass held a ghostly black tint and the center held a faint red luminescence. The orb felt warm against his skin. The warmth spread from the sphere to his hand and through his body. It was as though last night's fire still warmed the cave.
Ettelwen voice regained its tone of warning. "Hold them gently, if you're not careful, the orbs will give off the heat of….."
Her voice trailed off as Harry listened. His eyes glued on the soft glow. Silence fell around him. He watched. Clouded by the black haze, the glass cleared. The fog lifted and the reddened light turned pure. The sphere grew to fit his enclosed hand. The warmth felt slight as though it had only been warmed by sitting outside in the sunlight.
Around the sphere, his surroundings darkened. A flicker of blue reflected on the glassy surface. A spectral reflection appeared in the orb. A shadowy figure with disheveled black hair held a shocked expression on his face as he fell back into the depths of darkness. A strong yet distant scream of triumph sounded, accompanied by shouts of Harry's own voice.
"Harry!"
Above the distant echoes that filled his mind, a clear voice reached his ears. Voices faded; light of pure white snow blinded his eyes; black darkness turned to earthen stone; searing pain rushed through his hand. Chink. The black-ish red-glowing orb hit the stone floor. Concerned faces stared at him as he gasped while cradling his burned hand with the other.
Ettelwen took up Harry's hand in her own much like she had with Legolas's back in the forest. Her deep orchid eyes inspected the red blistering flesh on the palm of his hand. She brought her hand above his. Between their hands, the air illuminated with the soft golden glow. The searing pain subsided to a dull ache.
With the subtle light, Ron leaned closer to look at Harry's injury. He recoiled almost instantly gasping through his teeth.
"Bloody hell, mate," he exclaimed with a slight look of repulsion on his face. "What were you thinking about?"
Harry hesitated. He looked at his friend, a thoughtless expression covering his racing, worried thoughts, seeking the words to say. Why not tell the truth? What harm is there in that?
"Er….nothing," he stammered as he looked away. He pretended to hold his gaze on his hand. A quick glance told him Ron was not convinced. He eyes searched his mind for an answer, something to say. A familiar face flashed before his eyes. "Hermione…."
The name fell from his lips in a whisper.
"I–I was thinking about Hermione," said Harry softly. "I wonder if she's alright."
Ron's countenance softened, his eyes turning to the ground. A small 'oh' escaped from his lips. Harry looked back at his healing hand. In the gentle light, Harry thought his eyes deceived him when he saw the blister recede to the usual form of his palm not only on his hand but mirrored on Ettelwen's as well. With the discoloration of the light gone, his hand was entirely normal as though the whole accident never happened. He looked up at her face but she turned away.
Legolas stepped forward. He held out the small orb for Harry to take.
"Hold it gently." Without turning all the way back, she spoke over her shoulder but still not far enough to see Harry or the others. The commanding tone used only by those of higher rank seeped into her voice, the soft edge of superiority dressed the outline of her words, "It will not happen again."
She turned and walked out of the cave.
Slowly Harry reached for the sphere. For the second time the warmth spread through his body. He gazed at the misted glass. It was as it was when he first took it. The only difference was the growing sense of guilt in the pit of his stomach. Action that cannot be forgotten and friends that should never be forgotten.
(1) Their friend may not be safe. Except directly translated it's slightly different but the meaning is the same, basically.
A/N: I meant to make this chapter more Harry Potter oriented, if that's not obvious, it's difficult cause I've lost my feeling of the characters. I apologize for any OoC-ness. Actually, in Legolas as well. I also was trying to work on improving dialog. One thing never taught in schools, damn the school system. I'm all worried with other things so yes despite the badgering I'm going to get from certain people, it's is going to be a while before I update. I have other stories I want to work on, as well as stupid school stuff, and band obligations so I'm taking my time. I can't say that any one's a HUGE fan of this or really any of my stories anyways.