A/N: All works belong to their authors or the estates thereof. I'm just playing with dollies. Proper notes at the end.

Travels

"So you are our mysterious sorcerer."

Harry turned to see the wizard, Gandalf, clad in raiment of pure white and bearing a beautiful and intricate staff of pale wood. Harry had allowed himself to fade into the background, a weak version of a notice-me-not charm that kept him from being swarmed by well meaning men and women. It of course had no effect on Gandalf. Nor Aragorn, who was himself following the wizard.

Harry's wand flicked out and two camp chairs materialised near his own. He gestured for the two men to sit.

"I prefer wizard, myself, but I suppose sorcerer works too. Have a seat," he said pleasantly.

Both men sat on the offered chairs and observed Harry in silence for a long moment. Harry had long wondered just what their reaction would be, now the time was come.

"You did not tell me you had such powers," said Aragorn, breaking the silence finally.

"I didn't know how you'd react." Harry shrugged. "I also didn't think it was important at the time."

"Not important!" Aragorn cried. "Such strength as you displayed would have greatly aided us in our extremis, with your aid never would we have been pressed so hard as we were."

"I- well I'm sorry. I didn't think you'd need my help," Harry confessed openly. "The walls looked strong, I hoped to employ my craft to save those near death."

"Enough, Aragorn!" called Éowyn as she came running up, drawn by Aragorn's raised voice. "He aided us as best he could and his valour is beyond all question."

"It is not his valour I question," said Aragorn. "It is the convenience and timing of his arrival that troubles me."

"You are no wizard, no Istar are you," said Gandalf, seemingly ignoring the discussion at hand. "And yet no simple Man are you either. I am at a loss as to what you may be. Power hangs about you like a shroud, such that even now Saruman must feel it from his tower and the Dark Lord will know of your presence.

"Yet you have dwelled long in the Westfold, so says Aragorn, and in all my travels through these lands never have I felt your presence. Even now it fades to my sight, becoming nothing more than a lord among Men.

"Whence came you? What is your purpose here?"

There was an undercurrent of power beneath Gandalf's question, power that reminded Harry of Dumbledore with his blood up. Yet Gandalf was not demanding, Harry wasn't sure if he wanted to know just what power Gandalf could project when circumstance forced his hand.

That said, Harry had a long streak of stubbornness within him, and would not prostrate himself in the face of unspoken threat.

"I first came here in the frozen north amongst ice and shattered stone," he said. "First I travelled for years, attempting to find a way to return to my home. I settled here in peace when my search was in vain. I have no purpose but my own."

Gandalf held his eye for a long time and longer. A whole minute he stared at Harry with no words spoken.

"No purpose you know, perhaps," he said finally and sat back, seemingly more relaxed. "Yet I do not believe one such as you would come to find yourself in an unknown place by any means outside Eru's control. If that is so then there is purpose for you here, should you seek it. Perhaps it also will give you answers?"

Harry wasn't entirely sure he wanted 'purpose', especially not the kind of purpose that involved fighting and killing a lot of things. Nonetheless he did still want answers. How had he come to be here? By what means had he been blocked from his home and friends? The wounds were old and mostly healed but curiosity had ever been Harry's weakness.

"Perhaps it will. What would you have of me?" he asked with a sigh.

"Let us not jump so quickly to the end of things for we have time to talk before I must ride again," said Gandalf. "I am told you brought to our side warriors of flame. Balrog Gimli called them yet I felt no such fell presence at my coming."

"I don't know what a Balrog is," admitted Harry, "All I did was conjure a great fire and shape it into the form of a giant. I've encountered Orcs before and they always feared that kind of thing."

"With good reason I think," Gandalf said with a chuckle, "For even I would take pause at such a sight. Yet a Wizard I am and long years experience do I have, I have known of no mere spell that could do that which you claim."

"I suspect we're rather different, you and I," admitted Harry. "Though we both call ourselves wizards there is something strange about you." He peered closely at the old man. "Almost dream-like or unreal. I don't know how to describe it."

"You do not know you say, yet you do it passingly well," said Gandalf in wonder for his name before coming to Middle-earth was Olórin and named him the Dreamer. "You see further and more clearly than any save the Wise, my young friend. I feel sure that your presence is no accident at all."

"I don't know if that's comforting or worrying," admitted Harry. "On the one hand I'd hate to think my exile in this place was but the work of chance. Yet on the other I have never much appreciated being turned to the purpose of another."

"Then perhaps the purpose is only your own," said Gandalf thoughtfully. "It is possible that you have no purpose to fulfil here and instead here has a purpose to fulfil in you as it were. Or perhaps both. Or neither."

Harry snorted in amusement at those cryptic and to him utterly useless words. "I suppose there's nothing to do but keep trudging onwards," he admitted. "What would you have of me?"

"Nothing. Your purpose is as far beyond my sight as it is your own," said Gandalf shortly. "I would keep it beyond sight of the enemy also. The King and our company ride for Isengard to confront Saruman, you are free to do as you will."

"The rest of us ride for Edoras and the muster of the éoherë," interjected Éowyn. "Your presence would be well recieved my lord."

Harry looked to Aragorn for some indication of his thoughts on the subject but he remained in stony silence, still unsure if Harry would be a boon or a curse in their war against Sauron.

"If my Lady wills it then I will go with you to Edoras." Harry inclined his head. "Though I have no love of war I cannot sit by while men and women are dying."

"Then it is settled!" said Gandalf with finality. "First to Edoras where Elfhelm oversees the mustering of any man able to wield a blade there at the mouth of Harrowdale. From there again, the choice is yours. The King's company leaves under the shadow of the evening, I suggest you wait 'till morning for the men are weary of battle and sorrow for the dead."

"If that is what the King demands, then that is what will happen. Thank you my Lords," said Éowyn with a stiff bow of her head. She turned on her heel without another word.

"I also have matters I should attend to, I suggest you rest," said Gandalf as he stood up. "I cannot imagine such works of magic as you wrought today are simple tricks nor easy. When we have more time I should like to know more about these conjured warriors."

That left just Aragorn. He still looked torn. One the one hand Harry's appearance was suspiciously provident but on the other Gandalf didn't seem overly concerned. The Istari hadn't, however, invited Harry to join them on their journey to Isengard so the trust was by no means complete.

"Had you told me before I would have thought no worse of you," Aragorn said finally.

"Would you not?" Harry asked somewhat sceptically. "Personally, if I was in your position I would have treated such claims with either suspicion or ridicule. In truth I did not know anyone else had the gift of magic until I heard your tales."

"Truly?" asked Aragorn, eyes widened slightly in surprise. "Many are the tales told of the wonders that elves and men accomplished in the last age, Gandalf and Saruman are far from unknown in your adopted homeland."

Harry shrugged. "I did not speak to Lords or historians. The common folk told stories of magic and fae forest creatures, yes. But they were obviously distorted by time and ignorance. I thought them simple myth until yesterday."

He paused and smiled. "And I haven't actually seen any magic from anyone else yet at all. Are you sure Gandalf isn't just some crazy old man?"

"He is almost certainly a little crazy," Aragorn laughed. "All wizards are, but I have seen great works of magic from him though rarely are they so… conspicuous as yours."

"I like conspicuous, it keeps everyone guessing," said Harry with a smile.

"Then a wizard you may be." Aragorn smiled broadly and stood up slowly, stretching his weary body. "I need to rest now before we ride, I suggest you do the same Harry. I will look for you at Edoras."

Harry chuckled to himself as Aragorn left for his rest and admitted that that conversation could certainly have gone worse. He did not have much time to dwell on it, however, as he was soon joined by the Elf. Legolas.

Harry would admit to a certain amount of curiosity where the Elf was concerned. Gimli was pretty transparent and his time fighting beside him at the Deeps left him with much respect for the Dwarf of Erebor.

Legolas was something else entirely. Harry was almost totally without reference in this case. The only connection he could draw was the singularly unhelpful comparison to House-Elves. He knew little of the Elves of Middle-earth save that they were immortal and possessed of grace and wisdom often far in advance of any mortal.

"Much have I heard of your exploits," said the Elf in a voice as smooth and graceful as his motions. "It is a great pity I was not able to observe them in battle, Gimli tells me it was quite the sight."

After talking to Gimli following the battle the friendship between the Elf and the Dwarf was obvious and Harry knew exactly why Legolas had come to him.

"I imagine it was," said Harry politely before smirking just slightly. "Did he happen to tell you of his reaction when I summoned up my fiery warriors?"

"He did not," spoke Legolas the very beginnings of a smile gracing his features. "I suspect he forgot in his excitement."

"Such courage he displayed," said Harry drily before suddenly screeching, "Ai! Balrog!" Much to Legolas' amusement. "Then I do believe he dropped his axe. Judging by his fussing and the dirty looks he was sending me I suspect that is a grievous sin for a Dwarf."

Legolas laughed happily and it rang high and clear in the air. "Indeed it would be, for I am told a Dwarf's axe is more dear to him than his children."

"I can believe that," said Harry in wry amusement. "You should have seen him whining about the nick it picked up in the fighting."

"Ah, yes, I believe I have already been given the pleasure of that tale of woe," said Legolas through his continuing laughter. "Twice, in fact."

"You two were competing during the battle, were you not?" Harry asked. "Which of you won, if you don't mind my asking?"

"I do not mind, and it was I who won by two kills," said Legolas a shade smugly. "Gimli blamed you, you know. He said you kept 'stealing his kills', however it is one does that."

There was a pause before the Elf spoke again, now more seriously.

"Aragorn told me of your wandering," he said uncomfortably. "He said that you travelled beyond the dead sea of Helcar and saw the lands once known to my people as Cuiviénen?"

"So he told me," Harry said with a nod. "I did not know anything about the places I travelled until Aragorn made some guesses."

"I would hear you speak of the birthplace of the Elves," said Legolas seriously.

"Are you sure?" asked Harry, "It is no longer the same place Aragorn told me of."

"I would hear of it nonetheless," Legolas said. "Often have I heard story of the place where my far distant ancestors first awoke in the world yet none I know ever travelled hither."

"It was not a pleasant place," admitted Harry. "I came to it from the east in the late autumn, from over a range of mountains without name. When first I laid eyes on the waste beyond I thought a great hole had been ripped from the earth or perhaps a mirror laid across it of such clarity that it was indistinguishable."

"Aragorn told me that once that would have been the eastern remnants of the sea of Helcar, once the greatest body of water outside the oceans that ring Middle-earth. Now it was almost dry. Perhaps a finger-depth of water lay over the thick salt laid down when the sea ran dry and it was so reflective that the horizon was completely lost, it looked like the end of the world. As if I could jump off and be left floating in space."

He leaned back as he thought back. "Upon the shore was a great petrified forest. Huge dead trees long turned to stone. It was home to dark things of which Orcs were the very best and I will not describe them unless you demand it. I did not sleep long while I was there as even my strongest protections didn't shield me from the nightmares they brought."

Legolas listened raptly to his description and tears welled in his eyes as he thought of the fabled beauty of Cuiviénen brought to ruin by the darkness of Morgoth. For Elves the beauty of Cuiviénen under the stars was alike to a cultural memory. Through generations its story was passed on so that every Elf could close their eyes and see themselves upon the shores of the Waters of Awakening.

It was heartbreaking to know that it had been so brought low and yet Legolas took small comfort in the knowledge that even in the darkness that now shrouded the the birthplace of his people there was yet beauty that dwelled there, if only the beauty of emptiness and glory past.

"I…" He breathed deeply. "Thank you. You have a way with words Harry. Though they pained me I am glad to have heard them. I will go now and think on them and leave you to rest."

Harry wished the Elf well and they parted, Legolas lost in much deep thought on the history and fate of his kind.

o-o

By the following morning the mysterious forest had once again disappeared, leaving no evidence of its passing. In its place was was revealed the unbroken rolling grass of Rohan for the Huorns had returned again to their dark valleys deep in the shadows of the Misty Mountains. No sight nor clue was seen as to the fate of the Orcs that had passed beneath the boughs of that dark wood.

Despite Aragorn's advice Harry had not got much rest over the previous day and night. Instead he had spent his time aiding the indefatigable Éowyn in providing aid for the scores of wounded. The women and children had not gone far before the battle was won for without the leadership of Éowyn they moved slow through the narrow paths. They had returned shortly after the battle was done and were to join the remaining men on the road to Edoras.

In the end he had barely got four hours sleep but the knowledge that everyone who set out from Helm's Deep was in good enough health to make the journey safely more than made up for his tiredness.

Most of the people now travelling to Edoras with Harry were the women and children kept safe beyond the caves during the battle. A small contingent of mounted rohirrim had joined them but with Saruman's power so effectively broken at the siege of Helm's Deep the passage was believed to be as safe as it had ever been. The greater part of the men had remained at the Deeps for there was yet much work to be done to right the fortress and so many graves to be dug that they would be at their grim task for many days.

And so it was. The journey proved an easy one and Harry found Éowyn to be surprisingly good company. She listened with rapt attention to his tales of the distant lands to the east and north marvelling at how he could seem so unassuming when his actions spoke of a hero of old.

In her turn she told Harry the history of her people and was surprised that he did not already know. She told the story of how her ancestor Eorl the Young had led his people, the Éothéod, south to the aid of Gondor in its hour of need and, in return, been granted ruler-ship of Calenardhon, now known as the Riddermark or Rohan by outsiders.

She spoke proudly of the Oath of Eorl and the times the kings of Rohan had led great hosts to aid the Gondorians when embattled to the south. Of the invasion of Ithilien when King Folcwine had led an éoherë to battle in fulfilment of the Oath at great cost to his house.

She spoke with awe of Helm Hammerhand, after whom Helm's Deep was named and the Long Winter and the war against the Dunlendings. She seemed lost in the past glories as she told of how Helm had lead sorties every night, blowing his great horn to announce his coming. She spoke sadly of the death of his two sons and then with awe when she described how Helm had died on a sortie, frozen by the cold still standing. Fighting to the last.

Harry could see how she had been raised on the stories of the bravery and prowess of her ancestors. The glory they had earned in battle was legendary among the rohirrim and Harry was sure Éowyn resented her enforced inability to emulate them.

"There was a time when I wanted to die in battle," said Harry. "But if you were to ask anyone who knows you I am sure they would say the better achievement would be to live instead."

"Such is my fate," Éowyn sighed. "Always to act not for myself but for others, love and duty are a harsh fate. It seems I am never to seek my own ends lest I injure one or the other."

Harry smiled sadly. "Acting for yourself isn't anything to be ashamed about but you must remember that you have people who care about you and it's natural that they wish to protect you," he said and looked off towards the distant mountain peaks. "It might seem like a burden but it isn't until you find yourself without it that you realise just how much you appreciate it."

"I think I should like to sample that freedom, nonetheless," said Éowyn. "And you are not so alone as you would think, I would not have you think otherwise.

Harry smiled and thanked her for her kindness. He hadn't realised how much he'd missed other people and the companionship they could bring. He'd been well on his way to crazy hermit-hood and hadn't even realised it. He now realised he could look back on his lost friends back home fondly, the pain was a shadow of a memory. Pain did fade and he should not cut himself off from others in the hope of avoiding it.

Being alone for so long was a pain all of itself, one that did not fade but instead grew with time.

After that their talk turned once more to lighter matters. Éowyn talked of her childhood and how she had often played at swords with Éomer and her elder cousin Théodred. Harry was once again reminded of the harshness of this world when she told him of how her father and mother had died when she was a child and how Théodred had died not even a week past.

Life was extraordinarily fragile. Harry was in awe of the strength Éowyn yet showed. She had lost almost everything, more even than Harry had by his own reckoning. Yet she had not retreated from everything and sought solitude away from the seemingly endless pain and loss, instead she had fought with everything she had and continued to fight still.

She had a spirit that Harry had never seen before. He had heard the stories of how Théoden had been slowly poisoned by one of his advisors before being saved by Gandalf and realised that Éowyn had seen that whole process from beginning to end. How heartbreaking must that have been.

Still she fought. There was a strength in her that even Harry could not hope to match, or so he felt.

As the journey continued Harry and Éowyn checked on their charges and Harry found himself performing little magical tricks for some of the children. Many had lost their fathers or brothers in the battle and Harry did what little he could to take their minds off the loss.

He transfigured puppies to keep them company and then, in a fit of childishness, added wings to their little bodies and set them to dive-bombing the men assigned as guards. The laughter of the children brought a smile to his face and his display continued.

Eventually both Harry and the children were a bright motley of colours and most had either bubbles or garishly coloured smoke rising from their ears. Harry had even gone so far as to create a miniature rainbow that encircled his head. As he was once again fending off another assault by the now large group of children he heard melodious laughter behind him. He turned to see Éowyn laughing openly, a beautiful smile gracing her fair features.

"It seems I was remiss in asking you to watch the children," she managed to choke out. "You are no better than a child yourself!"

He tried to look affronted but failed utterly. He gave up and simply joined her in laughter.

o-o

Harry had been to Edoras before of course and he felt it was one of the most beautiful settlements he'd yet seen in Middle-earth. It sat atop a high hill situated at the mouth of the valley of Harrowdale itself surrounded by the high peaks of the White Mountains and the great pinnacle of Starkhorn. It had a high palisade that encircled the town with but a single gate for entry. The road to the town was lined with barrow mounds, the resting place of Éowyn's forebears and now her cousin also.

Each barrow was covered in small and delicate white flowers called Simbelmynë which filled the air with a pleasant aroma. As men and women passed the barrows they would bow their heads in remembrance of the great deeds of the fallen.

He had seen other towns in Middle-earth. Minas Tirith had a certain statuesque beauty but at the same time seemed altogether too organised, altogether soulless. The towns of the Easterlings in Rhûn were much less attractive, the cruelty of the people there showed in their craft and constructions. Many slaves died in the construction of the great towers in the East, built in tribute to Barad-dûr, the fortress of Sauron.

Edoras though felt natural, as if the dwellings had been draped over the land rather than imposed upon it. In many ways it echoed the people of Rohan; simple, yet effective and modest while simultaneously beautiful.

At the peak of the town stood Meduseld, the Golden Hall of the Kings of Rohan, a shining jewel of green and gold. As the early evening sun streamed across the valley it seemed that the golden roof shone with it's own light and all around was bathed in its warm glow.

All about him he could hear the relief of their charges as they saw what lay before them.

All around the hill of Edoras was a forest of tents and many hundreds of men and horses moved between them. Just as Gandalf had promised the muster of Rohan had indeed begun and already more than a thousand men had heeded the call of their King.

Harry was impressed by the numbers. He knew that they did not number close to the army that Saruman had levelled against them but near every man woman and child in Rohan was a rider. The Rohirrim were not named Horse Lords for nothing. Truly they held a mastery of horses that few could match.

Éowyn returned to him from issuing commands to the men and women following behind, her hair streamed behind her as she rode and flashed purest gold in the setting sun as if to remind him of her home with the Kings of Rohan.

"The men will join the muster under Elfhelm and the families will return to their homes. Those who came to us in flight and the loss of their homes shall share with them," she said as she drew level with him. "The doors of Meduseld will be open to all and you are invited to join us. Yours skills could greatly ease the hardship of those who are without home or food."

"Of course, my Lady," responded Harry, "I long wished to see the inside of Meduseld but when I came King Théoden had already taken his illness and the doors were shut to all."

"Such folly will never come to Rohan again," Éowyn said resolutely. "Much hurt was done to us when my uncle sat idle on his throne at the behest of Saruman. We do not yet have time for healing but I hope that such a time will yet come."

Harry nodded firmly. "It will. I will see it does."

"You are but one man," she said as she shook her head. "You cannot bear such burden alone."

"I don't have to." He smiled at her. "It seems as if there are thousands here alone that would agree with me."

"Would that I could help you bear it, but I fear my place shall be here much though I intend to fight my uncle in this," said Éowyn, a faraway look in her eyes.

Harry regarded her for a moment before coming to a conclusion. "If he does forbid you to come then come and see me. I'm sure we can work something out."

"You would gainsay the wishes of the king on my behalf?" she asked in surprise.

He shrugged as if it was obvious. "I like to give people freedom to do what they want. I don't think you'll find the valour and happiness you want on the battlefield." He gave her a significant look. "But I would not keep you from looking."

She accepted that though Harry could tell she still wished to follow her King to war. Harry hoped that she would not have to learn the lesson in the way he did. He had learned more than ten years ago that there is seldom any glory in death, no matter how noble.

They rode quickly through the camp and town, Éowyn was hailed and cheered as she passed, it was obvious that the people of Rohan loved her well. While Théoden had been under the thumb of Saruman it had been Éowyn that had become one of the major leaders within Edoras and had always pushed back against Gríma Wormtongue as he sought more power for himself.

Not all of the reactions were happy though, for many found that their families had not made it to Edoras in their flight and many more found that their husbands and sons had fallen in battle in the Westfold. All about women were weeping in their loss even as others cheered their triumph.

When they reached the high doors of Meduseld they found them thrown open, the hall already hosting a large number of the old and the weak inside its warm walls. Harry looked around in fascination and admired the craftsmanship on display in the wooden beams and columns of the Hall of Kings.

In the middle of the floor was a set of large number of fires over which food was being prepared, each fire surrounded by a small group of frail or injured men and women. Among them moved young women and girls, each carrying soup, poultices or bandages as they sought to ease the suffering of their charges.

A tall, handsome and broad-shouldered man with the characteristic blonde hair of his people moved forward to greet Éowyn at her arrival.

"My Lady Éowyn, it is good news indeed that you have arrived," he said respectfully. "What news from Théoden King, the riders said that the battle at Helm's Deep was won but spoke nothing of what the King plans now."

"Elfhelm, I am gladdened that you are well and that Edoras has been under your able watch in the Riddermark's time of need," she said. "Théoden King rode last night for Isengard with a small company and will return here the day after tomorrow. He asked that you continue the muster, darkness moves across the lands and we must be ready to fight it as soon as may be."

"For Isengard?" Elfhelm asked in concern. "Is that wise? Even with his army destroyed the White Wizard is not so powerless that he could not strike down Théoden King in his wroth."

"I argued against it myself," Éowyn admitted. "But he rides with my brother, Aragorn and Gandalf Grayhame. They go to treat, not war. Gandalf was cryptic as he oft is but I believe there is more in motion than we yet know."

"Then we have no choice but to trust Gandalf in this and prepare for the King's return," said Elfhelm reluctantly.

"Indeed," said Éowyn, "and to that end I present to you Harry Gledfréa, a wizard of no small skill. He claims his abilities would be of great help to us."

"Never have I heard of a wizard so freely giving gifts," said Elfhelm sceptically. "For long Gandalf has weighed upon our charity and in return brought only dark words to our ears."

Harry went across to one of the benches that sat throughout the hall and picked up a loaf of bread. "I hope I can do more than that," he said and suddenly the loaf became two, each the size of the first and no less in weight or substance.

"This would be aid indeed for food is slow in coming to us here though we have the stores to make do for a time yet," said Elfhelm in wonder.

"I will also do what I can to heal any injured here and may be able to provide shelter should it run short," explained Harry to the growing amazement of the Marshal of the East-Mark.

After that Éowyn went to discuss lodging arrangements within the town for the many displaced peoples who had come to Edoras seeking shelter. The tents in the camp beyond the palisade were reserved for the fighting men to allow counts to be taken more easily as the men mustered. Harry was able to help greatly in this by transfiguring many beds and bunks for the new occupants.

Harry also spent some time on the first day aiding the injured at Meduseld as best he could. Once again the mundane injuries were easy to heal though some of the elderly were beyond his ability to treat. Some had lost their entire family in their flight from Saruman's minions, Harry could easily heal hurts of the body but such wounds to the soul were beyond him. Those few simply faded from life, seemingly hopeful that they would be reunited with their families in death.

He did what he could to make their passing painless.

Next was the issue of food. Water was plentiful as the Snowbourn ran clear and pure around the foot of Edoras but after so much of the Westfold had been burned by Orcs and Dunlendings there was something of a shortage of food for the massive influx of people.

He was able to duplicate large quantities of food for the men and set aside some time to ensure the horses were also well provisioned. The horses of Rohan usually roamed free across its plains, going wherever they may and feeding as needed. Now that they were all being kept close in the valley the ground and grass was soon churned up and edible pastures were quickly consumed.

On the evening of the second day Harry finally sat down, satisfied he had done all he could for the men assembling in the valley below. He was tired beyond words after another night of little sleep and a day of much activity.

He found himself staring into space at his place on one of the long benches in Meduseld. He was vaguely aware that someone sat down next to him though his paid them no heed. He was just about ready to fall asleep where he sat.

"You have worked yourself to the very edge of exhaustion this day, Lord Harry," said the person, whom he now recognised as Éowyn, one of the few people who actually spoke to him. "Truly, the Riddermark owes you a debt."

It was an old argument but Harry wasn't going to give it up yet. "I am no Lord, my Lady and no debts exist between friends." His dim and exhausted green eyes met her serious yet bright grey ones.

"In the Mark a man's stature is defined by his deeds and renown," she said in disagreement. "Your deeds show you to be a Lord more than mine do me a Lady. And perhaps debts do not exist, but gratitude does and you will have the favour of Rohan wherever you may go." She paused. "Though I hope you choose to remain, I fear it would injure me to be parted from you."

Tired as he was her meaning did not escape Harry completely, though he said nothing to it. "If you say so, my Lady. Perhaps I should stop fighting a battle I cannot win. The odds are already against us."

"That would be wise, my Lord," she said with a gentle smile. Harry was struck again by just how beautiful she was. "You are in no condition for battle as it stands, I have come to see you to your sleep as I feared you may take it upon yourself to fall to your slumber here in this very hall."

Harry would have tried to look affronted had he not been so tired, instead he simply accepted it. He rose slowly from the bench and was lead gently and quietly towards the rooms that Éowyn had given him use of. Not that he'd had time to use them as of yet.

She helped him climb into bed and he was asleep before his head hit the pillow. Éowyn stayed for a moment to marvel at the strength and nobility of the man she had grown close to over the last couple of days. While he yet had strength in his body and while people yet suffered or wanted for help he would not rest even for a moment.

When first she had seen him she admitted she had been much taken by his appearance. Much about his face reminded her of Aragorn the man she and many men a women in the court of Théoden had come to love.

Éowyn had wanted more though, she didn't merely want to love without hope but to claim his love in return. But Aragorn was claimed by another. She could see it in his eyes when Legolas had returned to him the Elfstone he had worn at his neck, a token from the one to whom he was bound.

Her sadness had been short lived, however, as she found Harry to be just as fascinating as the dúnadan and more mysterious. His stories of distant lands had piqued her interest and his easy manner and unfailing honour had made him good company indeed.

She had realised that he only ever spoke of the last ten years or so of his life, much of that a seemingly endless adventure that Harry wove into a tale that kept her wide eyed for hours. Yet every now and then the shadow of some old pain would cross his face and mar his eyes.

Éowyn could well recognise the pain of loss and could see it within him. She could see why he avoided any discussion of his time before his travelling. One old tale she knew told of Folcred the Wanderer who had searched the world for years in search for his departed wife. Long the tale spoke of his travels through distant regions and among strange people until finally he returned home and found his house long ago crumbled to nothing. In that moment he realised how long he had searched and died as the years caught up to him. Even as he died he had smiled, for now he knew he would finally now find her.

As she watched him breathe slowly, his face graced with a gentle smile, she hoped that he would not meet the same fate.

A/N: After all the excitement it was time for a bit of chill-out time. No Harry-Saruman interaction I'm afraid, he's not going to become Aragorn's left leg at the drop of a hat. We only hear a paragraph or so about what Éowyn/Elfhelm get up to in the book so I figured that was a more interesting place to go.

Harry/Éowyn is well under way though don't expect much more than what you've got already for some time. Romance doesn't move quickly in Middle-earth (well, except where Éowyn is concerned. She falls 'in love' with Aragorn then Faramir in about a week in the books). I should point out that 'love' in Tolkien covers a lot more than merely romantic love.

I realised yesterday that there was basically no interaction between Harry and Legolas in the story, which was strange. He's a friendly sort. So I added the scene where he bonds a little with Harry. It's perhaps a bit out of place but I wanted to show how Harry told his tales, hopefully people's interest in them is understandable.

So, notes:

Istari are Wizards and Wizards are Istari. They are also Maia (lesser angels) and Harry ain't no Maia. Within Middle-earth he'd be called a sorcerer or a witch. The magic of Middle-earth is very different from that of Harry Potter and is more like the ability of the soul to interact directly with nature. Gandalf's Maiai nature is also why Harry senses something off about him. Within the LoTR it would be described as 'The Light of Aman', powerful people can sense or see the powerful presence it grants.

Gandalf's name when he was a Maiar was Olórin as I said. Harry doesn't consciously pick this up, but he's a bit more than the average Man so he gets just an impression of Gandalf's true self.

Éoherë is the word for a muster of Rohan (a full muster being approximately 12,000 men, made up of 100 éoreds -companies- of 120).

I explained Cuiviénen in the last chapter. As far as the sea next to it, if you're having difficulty imagining it, first say so in a review and I'll try to do better then Google Salar de Uyuni cos that's what I was going for.

Everything else is explained I think and this note begins to run over-long.

Thanks to all the reviewers, your kind words are very much appreciated and I'm glad most seem to be enjoying it.