A/N: Howdy again. I still don't own Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings. Whodathunkit? Notes at the end.

Meetings

That night, in the early morning long before dawn, a great winged shadow fell upon Edoras in the dark. It descended upon the city from the east and let loose a fell screeching cry that shook the hearts of all he heard it. Harry rolled out of his bed as his heart beat the rapid roll of panic in his chest. Éowyn also was roused from her slumber, having fallen asleep in the single chair tucked into the corner of Harry's room.

Shouts and wails echoed outside and again came the terrifying call of the beast overhead. Without stopping to check on the now roused Éowyn Harry shot from the room with all his speed, moments later bursting into the dim light of the earliest morning.

Even as he did so a great dark shape swooped low overhead, passing just feet over the gable of the Golden Hall. Further down the hill of Edoras men and women ran hither and thither in panic through the dancing shadows cast by hastily lit brands. At the passing of the beast overhead more cries of despair and anguish went up as it flew low enough to snuff out some of the flames with the wind of its passing.

The sensation was familiar to Harry. Much as he had felt in the warped and blasted ruins of the far flooded north and the ancient and deathly still forests of far Cuiviénen the terror clutched at his heart and tried to pull all hope from him. Darkness was ever the ally of fear and he had learned in his travels that brightest light could drive the terror back into the deep shadows beyond the earth.

With such thoughts in mind Harry pulled out his wand and aimed it towards the creature before crying, "Lumos Solem!"

A beam of blinding light lanced from his wand at the beast illuminating it for all to see. It was huge, bigger than any bird known. Harry thought it could be the size of a Roc, a long dead magical bird from his home. Yet it was like no bird he'd ever seen. It appeared to him to be more like the progeny of a bat, a vulture and perhaps even the extinct pterosaur.

Black was the creature, a colour alike to rotten flesh and the smell that now came down upon Edoras was so foul that he felt it might not be far from the truth. Upon it's vast form there were no feathers or hairs, instead its foul flesh was scaled unevenly like it had been taken by some disease. Instead it had discoloured hide spread into huge bat like wings with long easily visible fingers stretched through the span.

His spell did not go unnoticed. The rider, for a rider the creature had, a black figure that seemed to freeze the heart of any who gazed upon it, turned to see Harry and he felt dread grasp at his heart. So like a dementor was the figure and its influence that Harry was about to cast his patronus when he realised that the light of his wand had burned the creature and that its last scream had been one of anguish and pain.

Before he could cast his patronus the beast turned and beat its wings mightily, retreating to the east and the cruel sanctuary of its master. Slowly the terror of its presence faded though ever were the minds of the men and women who beheld it there prone to dark dreams in the dark hours before dawn. Harry knew that when he next beheld that rider a great battle of wills unlike any he had known before would be upon him, he hoped that day was yet far off.

Not long after the beast had been driven away Gandalf returned, riding swifter than the wind out of the west. Upon Shadowfax he rode, the great King of Horses who was swifter than even the greatest of Elf-steeds. This rider was as white as the last had been dark and his presence did much to chase the still lingering darkness from those who who had experienced the presence of the fell rider in black.

He stayed for barely minutes, but brought with him news that raised the hearts of the Rohirrim and steadied their frayed nerves. Théoden had found the Ring of Isengard in ruins and Saruman's power broken. He also carried orders from the King, the muster was to be sped up, for darkness now encroached much closer than first thought and all haste would be needed if they were to have a hope of countering it.

The men told him of the Winged Shadow that had come to Edoras not hours before and he asked urgently what had befallen the City.

"A fear was put in the women and the horses took fright," explained Elfhelm. "A number injured themselves in their terror and that is a painful blow. Much damage was prevented when Harry Gledfréa conjured a great light, alike the sun contained, and drove the beast from Edoras."

"Much fortune has his discovery brought us," mused Gandalf. "Would that I had time to learn more, yet it cannot be for I must leave to Minas Tirith with all the haste Shadowfax can give me. A great storm gathers and is soon to fall upon Minas Tirith, I must reach there before the light is snuffed out."

"It would be to the good if the enemy could not watch the muster of Rohan with such ease," he said before he left. "To that end I suggest you move the muster to the haven of Dunharrow, it will be further from the gaze of the enemy and it may be that some small surprise may yet be gained."

He then cried, "Fly Shadowfax!" and was gone again, now on the Eastward road and into the maw of darkness even now closing about Gondor.

That morning the muster was moved to Dunharrow, further up the valley in the mouth of which Edoras sat. The assembled riders already numbered in the thousands and more appeared each day, a great tide of horses and men moved gratefully into the welcome shelter of the valley.

An ancient refuge of the Dunland men but older even than they, Dunharrow nestled high on a cliff overlooking the wide valley of Harrowdale. Harry had seen the place before on his travels though only in times of dire need was it ever occupied by the men and women of Rohan. A narrow cliff path led from the valley floor where the main body of men made their camp and on that path were many statues. Púkel-men they were called by the Rohirrim and long years had scoured away all feature or detail from their bodies. Only deep dark eyes looked out from their visage, watching mournfully as men walked by them.

Not only fighting men moved away, the women and children also moved to Dunharrow and joined those who had already come to the safety afforded by the high mountains on three sides. Dúnhere, the Lord of Harrowdale bade them welcome and informed Éowyn of the state of the muster for much respect had he for the Lady of Rohan. By that measure Lady Éowyn was able to retain much control of the day to day affairs while Harry once again set about the endless task of ensuring all were safely accommodated at their new location.

Over the last couple of days he had got to know a few of the men of Rohan and found them a simple and earthy bunch. He wondered if there was a machine somewhere stamping out tall, blonde bearded men to fill the ranks of the Rohirrim. They all had similar outlooks too, once they had heard of his exploits at the battle of Helm's Deep they would immediately slap him heartily on the back and offer him a tankard of something pungent and sharp.

He hadn't had the time for such frivolity though as he'd been working himself to the figurative bone trying to ensure the army of thousands was comfortably provisioned and accommodated. His space expansion charms had again proven useful and a number of small tents had been turned into bunk-halls that could house dozens of men. Needless to say his craft was a source of much awe among the men and he always had an audience of both men and children as he worked.

In the early afternoon of that day Aragorn came riding up with a group of riders. Lady Éowyn went to meet them as Harry continued his work around camp setting up tents and easy sources of food and water.

Aragorn's company was an impressive one. Not only were his now constant companions Legolas and Gimli present but a number of his kin had ridden from the north to ride to war with their Chieftain. Finally there were two dark haired elves, Elladan and Elrohir the sons of Lord Elrond Peredhel of Rivendell who had both spent much time among the Dúnedain of the North and had often joined Aragorn on his rangings. Between them they carried a furled up banner, created by their sister they said, yet they would not discuss what sigil it bore.

Éowyn bade them join her for supper and she listened with interest to the goings on at Isengard and the results that had been borne. She was amazed by the stories of talking trees whose wrath had descended upon Isengard and undone all the malice of Saruman with strength and the white waters of the river Isen unleashed.

Truly there were such powers in the world greater than she had ever imagined. In turn she told them all of the preparations that had been undertaken in their absence and talked with wonder of the help that Harry had been.

At mention of the shadow over Edoras Aragorn spoke up, "So too did we encounter that shadow, though if it be the same then its wings are swift indeed. In the darkness even Legolas' Elf eyes could not distinguish our foe, it is good news indeed that Harry went with you to Edoras. I fear what might have become in his absence."

It was not long later that Harry returned for his own evening meal, once again running late as he sought to ensure everyone would have some form of warm lodging for the night.

Éowyn and Aragorn handled introductions between Harry and Aragorn's his company. Harry welcomed them politely and enquired after Théoden whom all had expected to return with Aragorn.

"He makes his way here by the slow path through the hills," explained Aragorn. "For the muster cannot be hastened and such secrecy as we can gain would be of advantage to us all."

"Then I assume you need haste more than secrecy?" asked Harry.

"Aye, for I have challenged the Dark Lord and mean to draw his eye upon me," he said with a nod, "we will move with all haste to aid Gondor in the hope that we might arrive before the hammer falls."

"My Lords, surely you do not mean to leave us before morning?" interjected Éowyn. "I am sure Harry would be willing to provide you housing to see you comfortably through the night."

"Thank you, lady, we are weary and I fear rest will be seldom had in the days ahead," Aragorn said. "My company and I would break our fast with you on the morrow if you would allow it and then we must leave with the first light of morning."

"If such is your haste then I thank you for bringing us tidings here for surely greater speed could be had if you had chosen to leave us unknowing," said Éowyn.

"You are welcome, lady, though I confess we would not have come here had I not been in need of taking the Dunharrow road," said Aragorn.

Éowyn looked confused and a little concerned and said: "Then I fear you are astray my Lord, for no road from Harrowdale runs to Gondor save for the one that bore you here."

"Nay, lady," he said, "there is yet one road that leads out of this valley. I will ride the Path of the Dead."

Éowyn's face paled and she stared at him in consternation for a while. "The Paths of the Dead?" she said finally. "The dead yet keep that road and the living are not suffered to pass. No man leaves that road that enters. Would you seek death so easily?"

"They may suffer me," said Aragorn firmly. "It matters not though, for no other road will serve. I must attempt it."

"But this is folly Aragorn," she said, her voice raising and regaining Harry's attention. "You all are men of strength and renown. You are needed in the war, to pass into the shadow of that road is to cast all that away and to injure our hearts at your loss."

"Excuse me," interjected Harry, "The Paths of the Death? Can anyone explain that to me?"

It was Éowyn who answered first with some anger in her tone. "The Paths of the Dead run below the Dwimorburg the origin of which is known to no man or woman of the Mark. Folk say that it is guarded by Dead men from the Dark Years. No living man may pass within and yet the folk of Harrowdale tell of shades and wraiths that pass without, they lock their doors and cover their windows lest they be taken to into the hold of Death. Not since Baldor, son of Brego, has any man of the Riddermark gone hither. Aragorn would choose to tread with his companions a path that killed all before him."

"It is not so certain as that," claimed Aragorn. "The path has been appointed to me and I shall walk it despite my own doubts. Of my companions I would say that should they follow then they do so of their own free will for I will travel this path alone if I must."

"Then you think you have a way of getting through?" asked Harry in interest. He knew of dead things from his home. Inferi at one end and Ghosts on the other, he wondered exactly what the nature of these Dead Men was.

Aragorn inclined his head in tentative agreement. "Perhaps that is more than I have in truth. I have a suspicion but no more than that. It is my hope that my birth will grant me right of passage through that path. I would not attempt it but under duress most vile, but such are the days that have come upon us."

"I could perhaps take you by a different path," said Harry, "one far swifter and less dangerous."

"Your offer is well received yet I cannot accept it," Aragorn admitted, "for my prize and reason for taking that path lies upon the path itself. To pass it by would bring no aid of significance to Gondor. There is no alternative, I must tread the path and hope."

With that Aragorn and his company took their leave and went to their sleep in tents that Harry had just completed before joining them at dinner.

There was silence between the two remaining for a long while until Harry said, "If you wish, my Lady, I could accompany Aragorn through the Paths. I'm sure I could keep him safe for you?" Aragorn might be set on the path but Harry knew he could be of help still. The unquiet dead held little fear for him, Inferi were wretched creatures and weak. No challenge for any trained wizard, Ghosts were an even lesser concern.

Éowyn turned to him then, her eyes alight with fury. "You will not! Let Aragorn walk into death if that is his will but I will not have his folly take you from us also," she cried. Then, quieter, she added, "Only the dead may walk those paths and no power or valour will keep you from that fate should you join him. Middle-earth will suffer a grievous enough wound should Aragorn, son of Arathorn pass hither. You are needed here, Harry."

He held up his hands in surrender. "It was just a suggestion, my Lady. I'm not about to jump at the opportunity to walk such a grimly named road," he said with a faint smile gracing his features.

"Would that Aragorn had your sense," she said.

Harry hoped fervently that Aragorn was right and his path would run true. He knew that he could not hope to save everyone, however, and so he would remain with the main host. Aragorn's path was a gamble, even he admitted it.

That night the shadow did not return, nor would it return the next night. Though no shadow fell over Dunharrow still the mood of all there was dark as word spread that an ill-fated party were to tempt doom and pass into the Paths of the Dead.

The next morning found Aragorn and his company making ready for their passage. The camp was still and quiet in the pre-dawn light as the word had spread wide that the grey company would be passing under the Dwimorburg and none wished to draw such ill fate upon themselves.

All of the company was quiet and in contemplation. All knew what fate would await them should Aragorn prove false in his confidence yet none doubted him. They would follow him to any end, be it grim or fair. The love they bore him as their leader or King guaranteed that much.

Only Harry and Éowyn braved to face the company as they finally climbed astride their horses. Harry stood by Éowyn who looked more beautiful and tragic than ever in a long pale dress of simple cut, she looked bereft and alone. Anger and betrayal had given way to sad acceptance.

"Would you not stay Aragorn? Ride to Gondor with my brother and uncle. Do not throw away your life so heedlessly, I plead thee," she said as she wrung her hands in desperation.

"I am not heedless, lady," said Aragorn a little harshly, "and I do not believe I throw my life away. We will meet again."

"I meant to join you, you know," she said quietly, yet uncowed. "But I commanded Harry to remain and so shall I also for no command should I give that I cannot abide by. But I fear for you my lord."

"Do not fear for me!" cried Aragorn, "for this path is to me allotted and I do not believe it will be the end of me or my companions. Instead think to yourself for the darkness that sweeps ere over the land may not yet be turned aside even by the greatest of deeds. Should that come to pass a time may yet come for you to show your valour again."

The Lady of Rohan, shield-maiden of the House of Eorl raised her chin high and said, "then I should welcome it. I fear no death nor pain and shall die with a sword in my hand like the heroes of old."

"Then what do you fear my lady?" asked Aragorn.

"To ever have my path chosen for me," she said, "to fall to old age and infirmity without ever the chance to lead my life as I would. To remain caged among fine cloths and warm halls until my sword arm is weak and great deeds fall beyond reach or vision."

Aragorn then glanced between the silent Harry and Éowyn. "I do not believe that is what fate has in store for you, lady. Nor do I believe you would allow it if it should."

A glimmer of understanding flashed in her eyes as she remembered Harry's promise to aid her if she was forbidden to ride to war. She stepped back from Aragorn and bade him and his companions safe journey. "Much good it may do thee," she said bitterly.

Harry then stepped forward and forwent a normal greeting, instead saying, "I shall be most disappointed if I get to Minas Tirith and find that you died on your little caving expedition. I'm not sure you trust me, and to be honest I'm not entirely sure I trust your sanity either, but dying puts a downer on any man's war. Take it from me."

Finally the dark mood was broken, if only for a moment and Aragorn barked a laugh and was joined by Gimli's forced chuckle while Legolas merely looked confused.

"Then I shall endeavour to avoid it," Aragorn said in amusement. "We shall meet again, Harry, beyond the shadow and there we will fight side by side to herald the coming of a new age."

"I think I should say the same to you," said Legolas, "I much want to see the great magics of which Gimli has been so complimentary. I will look to you at Minas Tirith."

Gimli, who of all the company was dreading the passage most merely dipped his head stiffly to Harry in parting.

Harry nodded firmly as the group turned to leave. He placed a comforting hand on Éowyn's shoulder as they both watched the group pass into shadow beneath the Dwimorburg. Neither spoke in that moment, but both felt stronger for the presence of the other.

That day passed with few words spoken by Lady Éowyn and it fell upon Harry to oversee the muster of men. By now there were nearing six thousand men and horses assembled awaiting the return of their King. Some pressure was lifted from Harry as great waynes of food and grain began rolling in from the still largely untouched lands in the eastern reaches of Rohan.

By the mid-afternoon Éowyn had cast off the worst of her dark mood and returned to manage the men in their assemblage. Lightened was Harry's heart at this as many men did not yet trust him for now his storied valour in the fighting at Helm's Deep seemed distant to the new and unfamiliar men now joining the camp. Even his actions in driving the fell beast from the skies over Edoras were treated as mere fables by the newly gathered men. Most could not envision such a fell creature, nor could they imagine the strength of despair that could be brought upon even the bravest man by the will of the Dark Lord.

Éowyn though suffered similarly. For while she was much respected by those who lived in the shadow of Edoras for her leadership in the recent dark times those from further afield saw only a woman, weak of body and will. Often Harry found Éowyn expressing her grievance to the men in a very straight forward manner. Most did not question her again.

Harry could see her frustration. For a while after the battle the men there had treated her with much respect for her feats on the field and yet even now, mere days since, they had fallen back into their old way of thinking and tried to push her away for war was the province of men, they said. Dúnhere, the Lord of Harrowdale and sister's son to Erkenbrand commanded the men well and had their respect but Harry could see the man was no great intellect. He made no attempt to draw from Éowyn the responsibility of the Muster for he knew and respected her. Yet the newly gathered men were more willing to defer to such a powerful looking man than to a mere woman.

Harry tried to back her up as he knew that not only was she extremely proficient with her sword but also possessed of an iron will and a sharp intellect. Yet when he did the men would laugh loudly and clap him forcefully on the shoulder in the way of such as if they were humouring a child or lackwit. He was aware that he was somewhat taken with the Lady of Rohan and supposed the men thought him blinded by that. He did not believe it so for he was used to what he still thought of as 'modern' women from his own time and when talking with Éowyn he often found himself forgetting that she wasn't.

She had such drive, determination and vitality that Harry was hard-pressed to categorise her alongside the usually rather timid and deferential women he'd found in most places across Middle-earth.

Amongst the Rohirrim the place of a woman was at a man's side in peace or at home with the children when was war upon them. They were not expected to completely eschew the blade for many were the stories of brave shield-maidens defending hearth and home but they were not expected to seek such deeds out. The role of a woman was in life, not in death said the Rohirrim. Éowyn refused that absolutely and Harry could not help but wonder at the strength that she possessed that she could continue that fight for so long without support.

Now, though, she had support. He made time to practice his skills with the sword with her and when men tried to suggest he need not 'indulge' her so he simply asked if they could best her with a blade.

It seemed they could not. So Harry and Éowyn continued alone and did not heed them.

On the next day Harry and Éowyn were once again sparring, this time without having to endure the comments of some of the Eorlingas. They had found Harry a set of chainmail and leathers and Éowyn wore her own more finely appointed armour, gifted to her by her dearly departed cousin Théodred.

The fight was fast and fierce as the two combatants danced around each other with varying levels of grace. Harry was no master swordsman but he was able to compensate thanks to the charms he'd placed on himself and his sword. His style was chaotic and unusual as he had no formal training and due to the charms placed on his weapon it handled unlike any other sword. Éowyn, however, was something else.

Harry had seen some of her ability during the battle at Helm's Deep but now he could see her ability clearly. She had not the strength or stamina of the men of her people but she more than made up for it with her speed and affinity for misdirection. Many a time Harry fell afoul of her feints and had accumulated quite a collection of bruises as a result.

It did not go all her way, however. Harry's charms allowed him to wield his longsword as if it weighed no more than a rapier. In the beginning Éowyn was caught by surprise by just how quickly he could change the path of his blade in flight and had only avoided some nasty bruises of her own thanks to her impressive reflexes. She was forced to accept the occasional blow but was able to reduce their impact significantly by deflecting them or moving with the strike. Each time Harry thought he had confounded her guard she would spin away, hair flying around her in a beautiful golden curtain and Harry would find his sword doing no more than brushing her armour with the gentlest of touches.

That was how they were found when a man came running and declared that the King had returned. Éowyn made an immediate and hasty exit with Harry following not long behind.

"Hail, Théoden King!" Éowyn cried happily upon seeing her uncle. "I am glad at your return."

"As am I at seeing you again daughter," said Théoden. "Has all been well in my absence?"

"All has been well," she answered as Harry joined them though he stood back out of respect for both rank and family. "Lord Harry has been of greater aid than I had imagined possible. Tidings of your return came to us not two days ago and no great evil has befallen us here."

Théoden glanced at Harry briefly. "Then you once again have my thanks, Harry Gledfréa. Heard, I have, of your valour in driving off the shadow over Edoras. The men below have taken to calling you Beortwiga. It seems Aragorn was blessed indeed when he stumbled upon you." He looked back to Éowyn. "Am I to understand that Aragorn has come hence then? That it was he who bore you news of our coming?"

"Aye, he came," said Éowyn as a flicker of sadness crossed her eyes. "He left the morn after his arrival. Into the Paths of the Dead."

Éomer then said, "That is grievous news indeed. We knew of his plan to pass that way but I had hoped he might stop from that path before it claimed him. Alas!"

Théoden remained stoic. "The line of Isildur does not idly accept death without reason nor value. No matter though, we have our own path and must ride it without him."

That night again found Théoden sitting in a large tent with Éomer, Éowyn and Dúnhere. So too were they joined by an uneasy Harry as they talked of the events and happenings across Rohan and further afield.

Harry was unable to add much to the discussion due to how long it had been since he had travelled much beyond his home in the Westfold. Instead he spent much time listening and endeavored to understand the strategic situation though that had never been much his forté.

The wild men of Dunland had suffered heavy casualties at Helm's Deep and those who lived had cast aside their weapons and now worked to right the damages they had inflicted upon the wartime refuge of Rohan.

From the north came word of a great host of Orcs at Dol Guldur and to the east a great army of Easterlings of Rhûn marching towards Gondor. Dúnhere argued that they had to guard their own borders and people. What good would it do to ride to war in Gondor while their own homes burned behind them?

Éomer and Éowyn both argued that the only option was to ride to Gondor. Éomer pointed out that homes could be rebuilt but should Gondor fall to Mordor then Rohan would stand no chance alone. Éowyn argued that they could not ignore the call of Gondor, to do so would be to mark themselves cowards and oathbreakers.

Harry said nothing for he did not believe it his place nor did he think he knew enough of the matters to give good counsel.

During a lull in the discussion the young hobbit appeared. Harry had learned that the King had taken the boy, Meriadoc Brandybuck, to squire. It seemed strange to Harry as none of the other riders had a squire but now he could see the fatherly way Théoden regarded the halfling.

"Sit by me, master Meriadoc," announced Théoden. "While I yet remain in my lands I would have you lighten my heart with tales of a happier time."

Silence descended on the group as Merry took his seat. Though Harry was interested in the tales the unfamiliar halfling could tell he did not wish to impose himself upon the King. He knew he was being treated with great respect and knew that he'd done something to earn it but he still wasn't much at home around them, besides Éowyn, that is.

Into the quiet came Merry's voice as he asked after the Paths of the Dead. The story was much the same as Harry had received when he asked the same. He would admit to a significant amount of curiosity as to the truth of the matter.

Théoden said something new this time though, a distant memory from a far off time. When Baldor, son of Brego passed into the mountain his father joined him to the Door to the mountain. Before the door sat an old man, aged beyond years. It told them, "The way is shut. It was made by those who are dead, and the dead keep it, until the time comes. The way is shut."

Théoden seemed to think that perhaps now was the time and Aragorn would pass through safely and yet still he was sad. "My heart tells me I shall not meet him again, yet he is kingly and has a great destiny. I would not say he has passed from us quite yet," he said.

At the words of the doorman Harry felt a slight chill settle over his spine for he recognised prophecy when he heard it. Much like the prophecy that governed his own fate this one was worthless save to inspire doubt. Still, it may be that the time was now and Aragorn's risk would prove worth it. Harry did not feel he had seen the last of Aragorn, much though Éowyn had claimed otherwise.

It was not long later that a voice outside cried the name of the King and his voice was met by that of the guard without. A man entered the tent and told them that a Messenger of Gondor was come and wished to speak to Théoden king with utmost urgency.

"Then bid him enter," said Théoden, "I would hear what Lord Denethor has to say."

The messenger was shortly shown into the tent he was tall and and scarred with heavy features and dark weary eyes. Hirgon, he was called and he carried with him the Red Arrow, the call to arms from Gondor.

"Dark days are well upon us then," said Théoden upon being presented with the Arrow. It was an otherwise normal arrow save the head that was painted bright red. "Not since the days of my father's father has the Red Arrow been seen in Rohan. What would Lord Denethor have of me and my men?"

"Lord Denethor bids that you come with as much haste and men as is available to you," said Hirgon. "Minas Tirith will soon be under siege and unless you have the strength to break a one unlike any that has been seen in the third age then he bids that your men would be better within the city than without."

"Yet Denethor knows that my people would rather fight in open fields astride our horses than among the tight streets of the White City," said Théoden thoughtfully, "and widely are we scattered across the many leagues of the Riddermark. Were it not for the blackest treachery that lead us to this I would say it was fortunate that we have already begun mustering our strength, for had we delayed there could be no aid that we could send to Gondor."

"All the realms of men are sorely pushed and darkness encroaches on all sides," said Hirgon. "In the south the Haradrim are on the move while in the east the men of Rhûn answer the call of their dark master and war is already come to Dagorlad and Ithilien. Dark ships have been seen off our coast and I fear little help will come to Minas Tirith from there. If Rohan is to come then it must come with all haste for anything less would be too late and no holdfast will save your people when the darkness comes forth."

"Such tidings have already been heard here and I would have Denethor know that even were our lands peaceful and unthreatened I would come to his aid," Théoden said. "Yet I cannot totally forsake my own lands. Such power does the Dark Lord wield that he may strike such a blow at Gondor while still threatening us with another mighty host across the Anduin.

"But hear me now. We will not forsake our honour, Rohan will ride to Gondor with all the men that may be gathered, even if that be no more than we have here now. Tell Denethor that he shall see the riders of Eorl beneath his walls a week hence."

"A week!" cried Hirgon. "I fear by then you may find only death and the ruined walls of the white city but if it must be so then nothing else may be done."

"If such is what we find then we will revenge the souls of Gondor upon your killers but the Riddermark has seen battle and anguish already and I cannot move the full host to action any faster than I have set," spoke the King. "Come, stay with us this night and rest. Tomorrow you may return to your Lord with gladder tidings than most to be found in this time."

So they rose and went to their beds and as he fell into sleep Harry felt a weight fall over his shoulders and knew that things were set to get worse before they would get better.

A/N: So I played Shadow of Mordor recently and I realised most of the names used are lifted from minor characters in the books. That's one way to ensure the names are consistent.

No, Hirgon the Messenger is not Hirgon from Shadow of Mordor. Totally different Hirgon.

Elrond Peredhel means Elrond the Half-Elven, technically he's not really half/half but it's not far off.

Harry's racking up those names, don't worry you don't need to keep track of them. Eorlingas just like giving out names (Gríma and Éomer both do it). Eorlingas is the term for the 'people of Eorl', the Rohirrim. Beortwiga is, approximately Bright (brilliant) Warrior.

Dunharrow is a settlement high up at the root of the valley called Harrowdale. Edoras is at the mouth of that valley. The Dwimorburg is the mountain that towers over Dunharrow and The Paths of the Dead run under it through a cave network.

Isildur was the son of Elendil who was the founder and first king of Gondor and Arnor (Arnor was a kingdom in the North, around the Shire lands). Fun fact, Elendil was nigh on 8ft tall (2.41m). Aragorn is the great great great great etc etc grandson of Isildur and, thus, the heir of Gondor which has no King at the moment.

Denethor is the steward of Gondor. Since the last King of Gondor (Eärnur) only died a little under 1000 years ago it had been ruled in their stead by a long line of Stewards (Lordban caught this one, I initially said 70 years, I herped some serious derp).

Rhûn is to the east of Gondor and is home to the Easterlings. Almost nothing is known about it. According to the books they're beardy men who wield axes.

Harad is to the south and home of the Haradrim. Harad is a land of deserts and jungles (and ruddy massive elephants).

Dagorlad and Ithilien are technically part of Gondor but by now have been invaded by Sauron. They are on the border between Mordor and Gondor (as you might expect). The Anduin (a river) separates Dagorlad/Ithilien from the rest of Gondor.

Dol Guldur is a ruined fortress in southern Mirkwood and features as Sauron's base in The Hobbit. He still uses it as a fortress at this later time.

Minas Tirith is the capital city of Gondor, also called the White City.

Finally, thank you again for all of your amazing reviews. Hopefully I can keep the standard up! Keep reviewing, especially if you see something wrong or out of place.