Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings.
Chapter 2
Harry looked over the river rushing in the vale below. He had received a summons to some meeting tomorrow. Harry wondered if he would even bother going. Ever since that fateful interrogation by the Elf-lord and Gandalf 'the Grey' he had sought solitude to drown himself in self-pity and whiskey.
Finding solitude was beyond him, however.
Every corner yielded some dark-haired elf seeking to invite him to a feast or some other foolishness. One event was an archery contest; Harry asked if the elf who asked was going to serve as a target. By his fifth day, they had stopped asking. By the eighth day they began to avoid him. After two weeks, Harry caught whispers of a darkness that lurked the hall. Apparently these 'elves' have huge issues with people suffering on their own terms.
Elrond reluctantly gave him his choice of rooms in this wing, he chose the one at the end with stone walls and a balcony. Old habits really, he probably wouldn't sleep if the room couldn't take spellfire and there was only one exit. Thankfully he had no neighbors.
After all, there was only so much he could handle when it came to elves. Their singing would envelope his wing like chiming bells; he slept peacefully for the first time in months. Of course, he would wake up in a paranoid fit and then check the room for 'traps' of hospitality; like the new outfit they provided him with, or the hot bath that was drawn while he slept. They would come and go as they pleased, never mind his existence.
Elves obviously had no respect for people's privacy and personal fashion sense.
"'Last Homely House', my ass…" Harry said aloud as he stared out over the river carved vale.
The mist from the fjord kicked up from below and lightly touched his face. After an involuntary flinch, Harry walked back into the room. Sitting on the bed he stared at the articles next to him. His dragon armor was the only thing of monetary value he had left. Griphook arranged for custom armor to be made before he went after the Cup of Hufflepuff. The Goblins gave it to him for a fraction of its worth, not because he was 'the Chosen One' but because he had a short life expectancy. The sneaky buggers were probably planning on collecting it from his corpse and selling at a higher price once it was 'the armor of 'the Boy-Who-Lived, Chosen One''. They probably were just trying to sweeten the deal to get him to buy it.
Hah. Bet his Gringotts break in and subsequent use of dark magic would probably have lowered the value though.
Greedy bastards.
He stood and examined the rip that a lance of bright blue flame had fashioned through the scaly, black tabard. Harry picked up the leather in one hand and the bottle of Firewhiskey that Aragorn had reluctantly returned to him in his right.
Mental note: never let go of the bottle. Ever.
After taking a swig, Harry assessed the damaged. He set the bottle down and picked up the Elder Wand and pointed at the slash.
"Reparo"
He watched with mild satisfaction as the slit closed and began fixing the other nicks and burns across the armor. His phoenix wand always felt more 'right' when he performed magic, but he couldn't repair magical artifacts with it. He picked up the surcoat and glanced at the emblem on the back. He almost dropped the black fabric, he watched, almost mesmerized now, that he stared as two snakes devoured each other in the shape of the symbol for infinity.
Merlin, why couldn't he be this profound when he was sober?
He vaguely remembered why he had done it. It was Amycus Carrow's last words.
Harry cursed as he extinguished the flames across his hip. He looked from behind the crumbling pillar and examined the hall before him. The deteriorated columns that once stood as the sentinel's of the Floo entrance of the Ministry of Magic now guarded shattered marble tiles and gaping holes that fell to the floors below.
A beam of Orange light shot past Harry's nose and crashed in a bloom of smoke and rubble against the wall behind him. Guess that would have stung a bit if it snagged him. He followed the path of the spell to a column base across the room. Harry followed his gut and pulled out both wands and aimed twin 'reducto's at the pillar and shattered the marble to bits of gravel.
Carrow flew through the air like a bloodied rag-doll and impacted the stone floor as the force of the explosion rolled him into the hole that lay in the center of the floor.
Harry walked to the edge of the hole, "Accio wands." He knew Carrow carried a spare wand, almost everyone did those days. This one wasn't the last he could track down because he was an idiot. The Carrow's were in the Elite of the Deatheaters, hence why Voldemort wanted him training his future soldiers at Hogwarts.
The Carrow's didn't waste time and eventually began separating the wolves from the sheep. They gathered students deemed worthy at the beginning of the year and started to teach them in an 'advanced' class. Some rebelled and refused to attend like Neville Longbottom and Ernie MacMillan. Snape was able to prevent bodily harm towards the two until mid-September.
Other students weren't as lucky. Before the Takeover of Hogwarts, students who were unfit for Amycus Carrow's class were to become guinea pigs, or more appropriately, pin-cushions for the class. After Voldemort swept through and took the school with an iron fist there were no more muggle-borns and few half-bloods at Hogwarts, they either escaped or were soon killed. Cauldron accidents became more fatal and Quidditch soon became a death trap for half-bloods and rebels of the Dark Lord.
Amycus Carrow was appointed the next Headmaster. Snape died at the hands of Voldemort during the raid when Severus refused orders. To Snape's credit he hid the lack of punishment on 'unfit' students well. Unfortunately everyone had a price, and soon word reached the Dark Lord's ears that Severus Snape was secretly opposing him. The paranoia of the Dark Lord reached its climax when Severus refused to kill the students that tried to escape. Severus died dueling the Dark Lord. An act that had he survived, he would have said was a foolish, stupid, and very Gryffindor thing to do.
Amycus Carrow fled after his Dark Lord's death. He would hide among the ruins of a destroyed England and rumors spread of isolated houses where the entire family was killed and no one found the bodies until weeks had passed. The ICW placed emergency Apparation Wards over England to prevent criminals from escaping onto the main continent so Carrow was trapped by the ICW warlocks.
Harry eventually got sick of trying to track Carrow by magic and sent him a letter to meet him face to face. Harry did not know how he felt about Carrow accepting his offer. He felt uneasy that he was shoved in the same exact corner as a Deatheater he had been hunting for the past three months.
The only alternatives for Harry and Amycus were death by ICW or death by the hands of the other. Harry received a covert message from Madame Maxime that she and Hagrid would be able to provide lodgings in France if he could get out of England. Harry would have loved to live out his days with Hagrid and the creatures that he kept, but he knew he could not have that peace.
He was being hunted by the ICW, he was tired of running, he was tired of hiding, hell, he was tired of living. Harry knew that after he finished off Carrow he would need to end this wild snitch chase one way or another.
Harry stood at the rim of the break in the floor and look down at Amycus's body lying broken on the rubble below. He lowered himself down the hole with his wand and kept another trained on the prone form in front of him.
"So I bet you think this over, boy?" rattled Amycus Carrow in the pool of light from above.
"For you, yes, I suppose it soon will be. Unless I can expect any further tricks from you." Harry said from the shadow under the remnants of ceiling.
"No, I think I am just about out of those." Carrow turned his head and winced. "I must say you will be a perfect continuation of our legacy. Don't you think as well?"
Harry paced around the white oval of light that shone on the floor and leaned against the pillar, "Don't delude yourself while dying, I have no interest in your blood views. I just wanted to put you down like the rabid dog you are, just like I had to do two years ago."
A gurgling chuckle rose from the center of the room,"Yes, your skills in dark arts were quite exceptional. You would have benefitted with a teacher like me-" Carrow hacked a cough and Harry watched blood rain lightly on the white marble floor.
"Welcome to the Boogie Man Club" Carrow finished once he concluded coughing.
Harry looked up sharply, "What?"
"You are the new reason children can't play at night, you are the new reason to never go down alleys alone, what lies in the lurking shadows. You are the new fear, the new Darkness. You don't even stand in the light now as I am dying. They won't pity you. They won't save you. You can't honestly believe that they won't hunt you down and then put you down like the rabid dog you are?" rasped Carrow
Harry flinched. "I have no idea what you are talking about." Harry said with as much strength as he could manage.
"It never ends. From Grindelwald rose Dumbledore. From Dumbledore rose our Lord. From him rose you. Now, who will you raise?" Carrow murmured.
Harry wanted nothing more than to kill the bastard in front of him before he could say more, but his body refused to move. Carrow had struck a nerve in the depths of Harry's soul.
Carrow coughed and blood splattered across the floor and from where Harry was standing it looked like a grotesque shaped heart.
"You won't ever defeat us. Even if we die, you can't, we are as old as humanity. You call us rabid."Carrow's coughing had become more violent, "You are us now, it never ends, you will now be consumed by it as you tried to consume."
Carrow's breathing grew ragged and then the halls grew quiet. Why did Carrow have to be right?
It wasn't over.
He pulled the outer robe off of Carrow and put it on. It was a bit big on him, but he just needed something temporary until the sun came up.
He removed the cloak and looked at the Dark Mark on the back. Hmm…he wondered what the ICW would say if they thought he was now a deatheater. He blanched as remembered the words of the dying man.
Harry stared at the symbol that seemed to bleed across the back. He pulled out the Firewhiskey and uncorked it.
"To you, Forever" He hated that word and entity. Forever.
He took a shot and embraced the warm dry feeling in his mouth. He stayed still until he could feel lightness about his shoulders. He took another swig and sat down as the wave of dizzying freedom hit him.
He couldn't remove the mark, but he could change it. Hermione and Ginny knew more about this stuff than he did.
He tried to come up with a similar image in his mind and cast, "Adeo"
He watched as the snake morphed and twisted in to a loop. Soon another snake twisted from the image and began consuming the other. The snakes looped and twisted until they resemble an infinite symbol.
Poetic indeed.
Harry picked up the Firewhiskey bottle in his empty hand and set down the black cloak. He picked up his invisibility cloak and examined it. Ignotus Perevell was a genius if he made the cloak as Dumbledore had suspected. The cloak showed no signs of wear or tear despite the number of battles it had seen or hell it had gone through.
Harry picked up the last Hallow, the one that cost Dumbledore his life. The small ring taunted him with silence.
Harry realized over a year ago he could no longer call back the souls of his parents or the souls of Remus and Sirius. For some reason the Ring no longer worked.
Holding the three Hallows, Harry looked into the mirror across the room. He almost stepped back in shock; he hadn't seen his own reflection in over five months.
His eyes were barely visible behind overgrown fringe that hung from his shoulder length mop of hair. What used to be angry stubble had now formed a short, scraggly beard. His scar was hidden and his eyes looked…different. He looked away. He couldn't hold eye contact with the stranger in his looking glass.
He quickly took a shot of Firewhiskey from the bottle and was about to look back into the mirror.
"You know, my father once said that drinking that is worse for your brain than a wild pack of Druban Wangbats…"
Harry heard the bottle clunk onto the dresser. He felt the engraving of the counter edge as he clutched with white knuckles. He stared into the image in the looking glass. His mind couldn't process what was behind his reflection.
What was behind him.
"…of course, that never stopped him on the celebration of the third half moon after the Winter Solstice."
Harry was terrified to turn around, but he knew he had to. He needed to know if he was crazy, or at least more so than usual.
He turned and saw a petite woman made of silvery mist wearing a Hogwart's uniform and a necklace of butterbeer caps.
He almost choked, "Luna…?"
The figure looked genuinely alarmed for a moment, "Of course not!" The figure harshly whispered at him.
Harry's hopes fell as the ghostly apparition in front of him looked at the closed door and out the window.
The figure tip-toed towards him, "Okay, maybe you can call me Luna here. I think it should be safe, the Eave-Snatchers won't be looking for me here anyways."
"Wait…What? " Harry wasn't sure what he was talking to. Luna was dead, and this thing was driving him off a ledge. He hadn't felt this flummoxed since he last spoke to…
… Luna Lovegood.
Oh Merlin. It was her.
It was really Luna.
"I think it could be safe, but you never know. Names are worse that Spell-O-Tape…they pick up everything and won't let it go. They even will pick up the infamous Pigmy Arumpat, the largest of the Triflet species. The Spell-O-Tape that is, but you already knew that." Harry watched as the ghostly figure prattled in front of him as he tried to force his brain into realizing he was still conscious.
"Otherwise, why else would you have picked such a ridiculous name here?" Luna continued.
"What?" Harry looked up abruptly, "Luna, I gave no name, I'm a nobody here"
"See…Anobahdee is a name that would never suit you…It might be a good name for a Nargle, but not you Harry."
Harry shook his head to stop himself from trying to follow Luna's train of thought. He was nowhere near drunk enough to try. Actually he probably would never be drunk enough to try.
"Luna? Is that really you?" Harry asked as he tried to walk on the straight line of the stone flags below his feet to see if he was drunk.
The figure stopped and looked at Harry, "Who else would I be?" The figure twirled closer to him and began to walk the grout line behind him on her tip-toes , "Unless I look like Bloomera Page, she always writes to the Quibbler and sent such lovely letters about the quality of our journalism. I almost miss those letters, they had always given me something to stride towards…"
Harry turned and watched a smile pass over Luna's face as she flitted around Harry to stare through the Firewhiskey bottle. Amber light poured through glass and danced through her grey complexion giving her face a rosy hue. For a moment, she was no longer a ghost, but had flesh and skin and could point to the movements of grass in the wind and claim a colony of Wrackspurts were headed for them.
"Luna…?" Harry watched what could have been in front of him "I'm sorry, Luna"
Luna turned to face him with her usual wide stare, "Whatever for?"
Harry bowed his head, he didn't know if he could keep eye contact with anybody at this rate, "I didn't mean for you to die…I wanted-I just wish I was there with you. You're my friend Luna, and I wasn't there for you. I'm sorry." He saw a small pale hand under his chin and looked up hesitantly.
"No Harry, you weren't there. But Harry, you can't be in two places at once. Well…not all the time at least. My death wasn't too horrible." Luna cocked her head to the left as if listening to music only she could hear, "Harry, you don't need to ask for my forgiveness, you always had it." Luna continued to listen to the music in her head as she waltzed to railing Harry was looking over moments ago.
"Luna, I mean it. It wasn't supposed-" Harry started following, but was interrupted by Luna who immediately stopped twirling.
"I didn't know you became a seer! It's the beard isn't it?" Luna ran over and reached up to touch his face and Harry resisted the urge to swat Luna's hand away.
"I'm not a seer! I just, it wasn't supposed to end like that, no one was supposed to die!" Harry shouted almost hysterically.
Luna finished her waltz with deliberation and looked out over the valley. She turned to Harry with a serene yet sad look he hadn't ever seen on Luna before, "Everyone is supposed to die Harry, we live, we die, and if we are lucky, we see a Crumpled Horned Snorkack before the end."
After a sobering moment, Harry walked over and stood next to Luna, "I'm sorry you never got to see one, Luna"
Luna turned back to the valley and placed her head on his arm, "What makes you think that I stopped looking?" she looked up with a smile, "I'm dead Harry, not blind"
Harry became rigid and looked away. No matter how Luna said it, he didn't want to think of her as lifeless, not when she was right here. Not when he saw her twirling and spouting off facts of her own brand of zoology.
"Luna-"
"I need to go now Harry" Luna gave a tired smile, "I'm sleepy Harry. I hope you're satisfied after waking me up."
"Waking you up?" Harry looked sharply at Luna, "How did I do that?""
"With what you have in your left hand." Luna said while pointing to his closed hand.
Harry opened his hand and looked at the cracked stone he was holding, he had nearly forgotten it. Without looking up he asked Luna, "This ring is broken Luna, I couldn't call anyone from it. How could you come here even when I didn't ask?"
"Don't be silly Harry." Luna said with a wispy smile as she stared into bright sun above, "We could never ask or demand magic to do anything. We need magic to do something."
"I need you Luna, I need all of you guys." Harry didn't know if Luna knew exactly how much he wanted to be with them all, "What was the point of ending a war I had already lost?" Harry asked as he stared intently at the crack in the ring that cost Dumbledore his life.
Luna put a faded hand onto his shoulder, "I should think it would be obvious. One of these days Harry, you'll know the answer to that question"
Harry watched as Luna's body began to grow more transparent, "Luna…Luna! Why do you have to leave? You can't just disappear like a figment of my imagination." Harry couldn't believe he had to say goodbye twice. "Please….Please stay."
"Harry, did you ever stop to think that you might be a figment of my imagination?" Luna said with wide, pale eyes that seemed to be looking at a point above Harry's left ear.
Harry felt tears on the side of his face as he barked out a laugh. Luna could turn any situation around on you, no matter what the subject. He could see his mirror shining through her body now, she was fading away. Resigned he asked, "Will I ever see you again?"
"I don't see why not, I find your personality rather agreeable when you are sound of mind" Luna said with a grin as she turned around and disappeared.
"Luna?" Harry called out to the room, "…Luna?"
The river below was the only answer that called back to him.
Harry was left staring into the place Luna once occupied.
His own reflection stared back.
Imladris was a beautiful waypost of the elves. Lord Elrond had raised him here since the death of his father under the name Estel. It was true that this was the last 'Homely House', it was almost impossible to feel gloom among the singing and stories of the elves.
Almost.
There was one persistent cloud that seemed to hover in the back of everyone's minds over the past two weeks.
Much to his displeasure he was still trying to keep an eye on the stranger under orders from Lord Elrond. He was declared a nameless wretch who took joy in trying to destroy the merry-making of the elves. Aragorn wasn't sure how he should treat the stranger the elves had dubbed 'Lokion' in reference to his armor and snake-like attitude.
Gandalf had taken him aside when this 'Lokion' sequestered himself to his room at the end of a lonely hall. Gandalf suspected that the young man was from Bree, not as worldly or sober as the men in the east tended to be. His opinion soon changed when the young man unbound himself and incinerated the elvish rope that bound them. Elrond was livid that Gandalf let the young man stay in Rivendell after such a belligerent display of trickery.
Glorfindel was oddly enough siding with Gandalf about the stranger. Glorfindel suspected he may live in the far northern lands beyond the Lonely Mountain. The man was pale enough to fit the description, his accent was foreign enough, and Aragorn knew little of the land so it was quite possible that they could learn tricks such as escaping knots and burning rope. But to burn elvish rope…
Aragorn knew he was kidding himself though. There was an intangible force that hung in the air when the young man stood up. It made him want to draw his sword and run at the same time. It wasn't dreadful like the wraiths but almost like Gandalf, a calm and proud anger that threatened existence if defied.
It was disconcerting to feel that power exude from a man who was at least forty summers beneath him. Gandalf sensed the power as well and suspected that the man may have learned his powers in what were the last vestiges of Angmar. Aragorn shuddered as he remembered the stories passed down by the Dunedain that were now entrusted to him. He heard the story of the hobbits encounter in the Barrow Downs. He wondered if it was worth keeping the man here if he was tainted by the witchcraft of the Angmar.
The man was dangerous, even when he had too much to drink Aragorn felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand as he braced himself for an attack at anytime. The stranger walked without footfalls, even over dry branches, and his gaze always seemed to evaluate how long it would take to kill what was before him. Infuriatingly enough, an attack never came. The man would do a thorough inspection of the room before lying in bed. An elf-maid was reported to have run screaming from the room when the stranger 'appeared from thin air'. After the last report the man ran to Frodo to assure himself that the young hobbit still held the Ring.
That was the other puzzling thing about the potential enemy; he had no visible interest in the Ring. He appeared once in the Wing of Healing to look upon Frodo. After watching the Halfling sleep for a minute from across the room the man seemed satisfied and never sought out or bothered Frodo in anyway. In fact, Frodo was surprised when he was told yesterday that the man who had been captured during their journey had been staying in Rivendell the past two weeks.
Even when Aragorn watched the hall, the nameless stranger would find a way to leave without anyone knowing. He seemed to escape with some method from the balcony and would reappear the next morning to bite the head off of an innocent elf. Aragorn had heard that the man was sighted in brief glimpses after sunset around the halls, food would go missing from a banquet table even though nobody saw anyone take it. It was this ghost that wandered the halls that for the first time in his life made Aragorn doubt the security of the home of Lord Elrond.
Aragorn watched the arrival of the men, elves and surprisingly, even dwarves, who sought the council of Lord Elrond. He bade the dwarves to make themselves comfortable in an empty hall, thus neither the elves or the dwarves would bother each other and create a ruckus that would damage relations between their kind for another hundred years.
He spotted the Prince of Mirkwood who arrived late last night. He seemed disturbed by something. Aragorn knew all would be revealed today though. What was to be a small council was slowly becoming greater as guests arrived in Imladris. Gandalf the Grey had told him once that Elrond does nothing in halves, and Aragorn wondered if Elrond may have used his ability in foresight in order to foretell the number at this Council. The feast he had deemed too extravagant earlier may not be enough…especially if more dwarves arrive.
He took a break from his watchpost and went to grab a small snack from one of the elf-maids preparing the feast this evening. Arwen once commented he would always feel like a child in Imladris. In some ways, she couldn't be more right.
He was just about to turn around a corner when he saw a ripple in the air. He placed a hand on his sword as he watched the ripple tear open to reveal a man. The stranger that lurked the halls had just appeared in mid-air before him.
Impossible.
He rubbed his eyes and turned around the corner just in time to watch the stranger slink into the hall. The same hall the dwarves had entered moments ago.
Aragorn knew he had no right to stop the stranger, but he could help the growing trepidation it the pit of his stomach.
Lord Elrond was definitely not going to like this.
Harry couldn't sleep. Actually he didn't want to sleep. Sleeping meant the inevitable dream that would haunt him. He couldn't stand to watch the images of a headless Luna telling him she was okay.
Hell, he wasn't okay.
He couldn't stay in the room. He was afraid he would see her again there, but this time she would be just laying there and he wouldn't be able to do anything.
He pulled the Invisibilty Cloak and padded silently across the halls. The trick with silencing footsteps wasn't blocking sound as some foolishly tried in years past. The secret was to never let your feet hit the ground. Nothing on the ground will belay your concealment. No twig snaps, no vibrations to tip off snakes, and plus it was just that bad-ass as Dean Thomas once put it.
He picked up his regrettably lighter whiskey bottle, He hadn't realized he had drunk this much. Ron would have given him hell for drinking his share of the Firewhiskey. He stopped at a hall that was left empty last he checked this morning. He pulled the door open and crossed the hall to bump into a small creature. Curly hair, short stature, and no shoes…this was one of those Hobbit-Half-somethings…
"Begging your pardon, sir, don't mean anything by it" The hobbit looked up and Harry recognized him as the one that accused him of wanting to steal stew.
"Oh! It's you! I didn't know you were still in Rivendell, meaning no offense of course, but with you not being around at meals, one would naturally assume, of course, you… weren't… here…?" The hobbit ended lamely under the unflinching gaze.
Harry looked over the hobbit and stopped when he looked at the bottle in his little hand, "Is that…wine?"
Taking this as encouragement, the little hobbit bobbed his head up and down, "Why yes, elves finest in fact, not that anything they make isn't the finest. The name is Peregrin Took, by the ways, and you're welcome to join my friends and me for a drink or two."
Harry looked at his nearly empty bottle of Firewhiskey and then to the full bottle of wine that the little hobbit seemed to be struggling with.
Aragorn watch the stranger talk to young Peregrin. Well, the hobbit wasn't killed and it appeared that two more hobbits were entering as the dwarves were situating themselves. Elves were passing through every so often with prepared dishes and would whisper about the presence of "Lokion" every so often. There were enough skilled fighters in the Hall to take down the Stranger if he so much as raised his hand.
Well the feast will begin at sunset in the Hall of Fire, it is not like they can get that drunk in three hours.
He walked down the hall trying to assure himself that it would be okay while he searched for Gandalf.
The sunlight was just beginning to turn a yellow hue as Aragorn walked to the hall to fetch the dwarves when he heard singing through the oaken doors.
"…where racing clouds were torn and rent.
It passed the lonely Mountain bare
and swept *hic* above the dragon's lair:
there black and dark lay…"
Aragorn cracked open the door and peered in. There upon a single bench was Gloin and Bilbo with an arm wrapped around the stranger swaying to the offbeat tune. Gimli was snoring into his drink while Merry and Pippin were merrily smoke on the floor interjecting a random word or hiccup when they saw fit. The dissonant crooning echoed off the marble, a lonely tankard lay a few paces away from the table, and Aragorn could smell the mead and wine from where he stood.
"… left the world and took its flight
over the wide seas of the night,
The moon set sai-a-al upon the gale,
and stars were fanned to lea-hee-hic-ping li-i-ght"
The off-key song ended in a bellowing, grotesque harmony that Aragorn knew would haunt him in many a dream to come. Never had such a…noise…ever been heard in the house of Elrond. A few elves that were passing through the hall looked on in disdain and muttered comments about dwarves in elvish. Leav it to this stranger to get Bilbo Baggins, honored guest of Elrond completely intoxicated before a grand feast in the Hall of Fire. Aragorn wondered if he should trust Gandalf's advice to let the "Lokion" be. At this rate, he'll be getting the elves drunk to the point where they can't shoot straight.
As Aragorn closed the door behind him, he knew Lord Elrond will not be pleased.
Harry knew he was drunk. No, he laughed as he rethought that, he was shitfaced. He wasn't sure why he started drinking, but that really didn't matter right now. What mattered was he felt great. Actually he felt brilliant.
Gloin…yes, that was the name of the short man beside him with the strange beard. Gloin was teaching him dwarvish songs.
Brilliant.
Someone once used that word a lot. Someone he should know the name of… He-yes, it was a he- was close to him.
"You know laddie, I should probably teach my son the value of knowing how to hold his liquor.." Gloin said as he wiped a bit of ale off of his dark beard.
Harry nudged the shorter man on his right shoulder, Bilbo – what an odd name- and looked down to Gloin and replied, "It is a valuable task-…weapon-…skill. Yes, a good skill in the world."
"You know Stranger, I never heard where you hailed from. Have you heard of the great dwarven city of Erebor in your land?" Gloin said as he tried to align the bottle with the rim of his tankard.
Harry cocked his head to the right and said after a pause, "No…I can't say that I ever…That I ever *hic* heard of it."
After spilling a bit of the wine, the elves indeed knew their wine, Gloin lifted his drink to his lips. He paused and a dark look came over his face. "I worry for my home, strange things are happening, nothing like what I have ever encountered."
Harry paused again and thought he remembered he had trouble where he came from and nodded, "Yeah, I think I can relate"
"A dwarf used to be able to carve his home from good rock and sturdy stone. We could build and fashion the finest arms of the finest *hic* craftsmanship in all the lands of Middle-Earth. Now, dark figures come out of the night and whisper dark things under veiled threats." Gloin took a long drink and then set the tankard on the table and gripped it with both hands, "I haven't had message or emissary from my cousin, Balin in over twenty years. I worry for him. He left almost thirty years ago to lay claim to our lost home. He succeeded, of course he would, Balin was a strong fighter and a good leader of dwarves." Gloin stared deeply into his drink, "He was an excellent drinker"
Harry may have been mistaken, but he thought he heard a snuffle escape from the mess of beard on the dwarf's face.
Bilbo rustled awake, and with a twitching ear he looked off into the distance at a lit hall across the gorge, "Ah, is that singing I hear?" He turned to look up at Harry, "My dear friend, have you ever heard the singing of the elves? It is the gentlest and most beautiful sound known the races of men and hobbits alike, it like the elegant chime of bells mixed with the warmth of all sunrises of an age."
The group sat and pondered the simple statement until Pippin dozed off and fell to the floor in a loud slump.
Bilbo began to get up and teetered towards the door and Harry got up to help him and watched the floor dance before him. As the two clung to each other they wobbled over towards the door and made their way to the lit building across the bridge.
"You know my lad," Bilbo said after a bit of a pause, "you should meet my nephew…a good upright lad. Not used to the world yet, I think he should be going home soon. At least he gets to experience Rivendell once in his life. How are you liking it."
Harry knew he didn't like it here, but he couldn't honestly remember why. After a pause he thought of the answer, "I like my own clothes still."
Bilbo let out a deep laugh that knocked him over onto his behind, as Harry bent down to help him up he too crashed into the marble slab below. After looking at each other they couldn't hold it in and laughed under hot tears stung at their eyes. After settling down, Harry stared at the high ceiling that seemed to be falling and spinning at the same time.
"I don't think I have ever shared drink before this." Harry said as the odd thought popped into his head.
Bilbo had worked himself to the point where he was sitting up on the cold floor; even sitting he looked unstable. After he stopped swaying he looked down at the man next to him, "That you remember right now you mean. For lad, some may consider my judgment too hasty, but I think you are completely down the barrel."
Harry paused to consider the statement, he did feel a little unstable when he moved, and he was on the floor. "Hmmm... you might be onto something. But I don't think I ever laughed while drinking before…"
"And that is a shame then my boy," Bilbo said as he moved to all fours to get himself off the ground, "but you know how to fix that, correct?"
Harry couldn't really think of an answer as he was getting dizzy watching Bilbo get up.
After slowly pushing himself off the ground, Bilbo tottered for a bit, and after steadying again he looked down and gave a big smile, "Never drink alone again, and always in good cheer."
Harry watched from the ground as the aged Halfling tottered and swayed out of the hall.
Never alone, huh?
A/N: So yeah…I am completely horrible. I didn't get to the Council of Elrond. I never realized that almost 25% of the first book takes place in Rivendell. So I didn't want to postpone posting for 6 more pages of Rivendell. I thought I reached a good point to end this. I'm trying to balance out the amount of HP element and LOTR elements that appear, so it was stupid of me to adjust my chapters to those of LOTR solely. I didn't want to obliterate HP out of the crossover, otherwise Harry is not Harry Potter anymore, just a wizard who is in a new world that will kick ass and totally forgets he had friends by Chpt.5. Sorry people, the healing process is a long slow dramatic process.
Oh yeah, "Lokion is derived from 'leuca' which is the equivalent of serpent, I threw a 'k' in there despite that there are no 'k's in Quenya, and 'ion' is a traditional ending for a male name. Or at least that is what the internet told me so.
Yeah, forewarnment, I suck at all things elvish. I know it, so very rarely will it show up.
