A/N: Don't own Harry Potter. Don't own Lord of the Rings. Notes at 10 (also at the end).

THIS CHAPTER HAS BEEN EDITED (18/02/2015)

Darkness

The next morning did not come. No sun rose over the mountains for a dark and unsettling cloud had rolled in from the East and now blocked the light of Anor from sight.

Harry awoke to raised voices and hurried motion beyond his tent and stumbled out into the half-twilight. Though not as dark as true night the light he now saw by was poor and held no life. The world he beheld was illuminated in tones of sickly grey and he could see the darkness had left the Rohirrim most unsettled.

The power displayed by Sauron took Harry's breath away. To blot out the sun across many hundreds of miles was a feat far beyond any Harry knew. He made a few attempts to burn the thick and terrible clouds from the sky but found them stubborn and immovable. He could no more wipe them from the sky than he could raise mountains from the earth.

One of the men, Eanhére Harry thought, came to him and told him that the Rohirrim would not wait any longer. The King had ordered that all men now present were to ride out in mere hours. Already the messengers of Gondor had taken their leave, riding with all the swiftness their horses possessed to return the news of Rohan's coming to Denethor. Eanhére told Harry that Théoden had bid he ride with them to Minas Tirith and requested that Harry come before him once he was prepared for the leave.

Harry as always didn't have much packing to do, he merely saddled Cadogan and collected his few belongings before going to the King.

"It is good that you would come with us to our battle," said the King upon seeing him. "The worth of a wizard in battle is beyond reckoning and I would have you accept a gift from me before we go forth together."

Théoden gestured for Harry to follow him as he walked to one of the temporary stables that housed the many horses of the Rohirrim. Harry did not consider himself to have a great knowledge on the subject of equestrian matters but even he could recognise that the horses before him were much finer than his own some-time steed. White they were and white was true, no grey horses were these. They stood taller, stronger and with more pride than any mere animal Harry had before seen.

"You already have a horse, I know," began Théoden, "but it does not befit such a friend of the house of Eorl to ride at the side of a King on such a lowly steed. If you would accept it I would allow you to choose a new steed from my own stable. Each is of the Mearas and swifter than any other."

A cynical smile spread across the king's face. "When last I made this offer Gandalf took from me Shadowfax, the mightiest of horses and alike to Felaróf of old. Much did I lament that choice while the shadow of Saruman lingered over me, yet had he not so chosen then surely our war would already be lost. I make the offer again to you for such friendship as you have shown the Mark is a rare coin and one I deem to be of equal value to even these steeds."

Harry was torn. Cadogan, his horse, was an enthusiastic old soul. Much like his namesake he tended towards brash and running off without forethought. Harry had come to be rather close to the animal over the last few years but he knew it was no longer a young creature.

In Rohan when the horses aged beyond the strength of their youth they would be allowed to roam the plains freely among the other half-domesticated animals. Cadogan was one of those horses, past his prime and no longer suited to the trials and travails of war. Harry knew this, but his heart was heavy at the thought of abandoning the only companion he'd had for the last few years.

Nonetheless as Harry looked upon the horses of Théoden he had to accept that they would be much better suited to war than Cadogan. One in particular caught his eye. Almost completely white except for some darker markings on her chest and around her eyes she cantered up to Harry almost as soon as he walked to the enclosure.

Her eyes were a bright amber and held an almost human intelligence. She nuzzled Harry when she reached him and he found himself reaching out to pet her head.

"It seems wizards have unquestionable taste when it comes to their steed," said Théoden wryly. "Hildwig is foal to Shadowfax and of all his children is most stubborn. Not so swift, nor so uncanny smart but a better mount you will never find."

Hildwig. The name seemed fitting for the animal that now looked him in the eyes unblinkingly in a fashion passingly similar to another animal companion from Harry's past.

"She's perfect," said Harry. "I thank you, Théoden king. She is much more than I deserve."

"The Mearas have ever been the mounts of my house alone," Théoden said with the slightest sparkle in his usually grave eyes. "But mayhaps I will yet see you sheltered under my roof."

When they departed from the refuge of Dunharrow in force Harry quickly realised that Éowyn was nowhere to be seen in the party seeing them off. As soon as the opportunity arose Harry fell back and surreptitiously located her with a quietly spoken spell and smiled when he realised she was riding with the host as she'd stated she would.

Even with the advantage of magic it was no easy task to find one man, or woman, among more than six thousands. Find her he did though, and with her he found the hobbit squire to Théoden. She looked glorious in her full armour and none could tell at the look of her that she was no Man of Rohan. She rode atop her grey steed, Windfola whom she had known for long years.

"I am happy you decided to join us, Éowyn." Harry smiled at her as he came alongside. "And you have brought master Brandybuck with you. At least I shall have some more enjoyable company on our ride."

"Harry! You would draw attention to us," she chastised him without ire. "We would not be left behind by those we love."

Merry looked surprised for Dernhelm the Young he thought she was. "Éowyn? but this is Der…" he trailed off. "Oh. Please Master Harry, don't tell the King, he would send us from him."

"Do not worry Merry, I promised Éowyn I would help her if the King tried to send her away. I shall extend that offer to you too." He thought for a moment. "I could use my magic to make sure no-one notices anything untoward."

"Thank you Harry," said Éowyn with a half concealed smile beneath her helm. "It would sooth me to know we are safe from discovery."

Harry tapped Merry and Éowyn on the head and said the words for a mild notice-me-not on both though he had to admit Éowyn didn't much need it. It was the hobbit that would draw attention to them.

Throughout that day and the next Harry spent as much time as he could riding with the two stowaways. Merry had an abundance of simple and amusing stories to tell and Harry could often be heard laughing merrily at the young Hobbit's japes.

Éowyn had explained that she had come to what she called an agreement with Elfhelm the Captain of the éored with which she rode and that he and his men would overlook her presence.

"I have known Elfhelm since I was young," she explained. "As Marshal of the East-Mark he resides at Aldburg yet he oft came to Meduseld to speak with my uncle. It caused him much pain to choose between my wishes and those of the King yet he will keep my presence quiet for now. Of all the Marshals of the Mark he is most understanding of my plight, he always aided me in my sword work when he came by."

Nonetheless he decided to maintain the charms concealing their presence, merely for the sake of surety. As a result he garnered a few uncertain looks from the riders nearby as their mind could not register the presence of the hobbit nor the words of the rider Harry accompanied but they soon put it down to the strangeness of wizards.

It came as something of a surprise to Harry when Merry mentioned that he was actually soon to be 38 years old and was nearly a decade older than him. Even as he thought he had come to understand Middle-earth it would throw some small thing at him to knock him off balance again.

Sometimes, when Merry was asleep in his guise as a pack bag upon Éowyn's horse the wizard and the Lady of Rohan talked quietly between themselves. Finally and after long and careful prompting form Éowyn Harry admitted at least a little of how he had come to be in Middle-earth.

"You have guessed, I know, that I am not from Middle-earth and you're right," Harry said eventually. "But nor am I from any land across the sea. I am from another world entirely, I think."

"Never have I heard such words, even in the oldest histories of my people," said Éowyn though she believed him still. "How then did you come to be here?"

"There was a war," he explained. "Many friends died. I blamed myself, I still do really. If I had been faster smarter or stronger they might never have died. I simply wished to get away from it. I wanted some quiet away from the blame and guilt their memory laid at my feet."

"I had no wish to leave for good, at least, I don't think I did. Not everyone died and I had many good friends still about me, though I admit we had become distant. I cut myself off from them, built a barrier around my life that none of them were allowed to pass. All I wanted to do was find some peace in the hope it might heal, but I've always been prone to acting without thinking. The spell I used was meant to create a kind of garden, a little pocket world for me and me alone. A retreat from the world. It was an ancient spell. It was supposed to be a paradise, a place of music and beauty."

"I suspect I got it wrong, or else something got it wrong for me. I did not find myself in the flowery garden I'd expected but in the blasted wastes you already know of. Immediately I tried to return yet nothing worked. I screamed and swore and beat my hands bloody on the sharp rocks all around me but nothing I tried worked."

He looked up at the Sauron-darkened sky and thought about that time, the darkest he'd ever known. His own weakness had inflicted upon him a wound greater than any other. "I came to accept it, in time. But I still wonder what would have happened had I stayed. I still wish I knew why it happened. When I heard of Gandalf I hoped he may have some answers but it seems he's as ignorant in this as me."

Éowyn did not say anything to that, for there was nothing that could ease his hurt, save perhaps one thing alone.

Late on the second day word came to the éored with which he was riding that the King wished of his council under the eaves of the Drúadan Forest.

When Harry arrived he found Théoden, Éomer and some of the captains near to a small monkey-looking man. Ghân-buri-Ghân was his name and chieftain he was of the Drúedain of the Forest. The Drúedain were one of the oldest kindreds of man yet left on Middle-earth and had occupied the lands of Rohan in the First Age. All that they had left in their old domains was their ancient holdfast at Dunharrow and the clouded stories told by the Dunlendings. He brought news to the King.

"A host lies in our path and the messenger of Gondor lies slain," explained Théoden. "Ghân-buri-Ghân offers to take us by paths known only to his people so that we may pass the host by. I would have your council in this."

"I'm not sure what council you want Théoden king, I am not experienced in war nor strategy," said Harry. "All I can say is that I could bear word to Gondor that Rohan comes to its aid. I could be there before the night is out."

"Path of Wild Men will take a day, no more," said Ghân in a curious croaking voice, his unsettling eye sparkling red at Harry in the half-light.

"How is such a thing possible for even upon the swiftest of horses we are nearly a whole day distant by the shortest path?" Théoden asked.

"Drycrâftig move by unseen paths," Ghân said, "The Wild Men remember."

Harry wondered just what it was that Ghân's people remembered for this was the very first he'd ever heard of any with abilities like his own. More unbalancing was how the small creature, not unlike trolls of Norse myth, could see it within him so easily.

"Ghân-buri-Ghân speaks the truth," admitted Harry. "I have the ability to travel from one place to another in an instant, if I have been there before. I have been to Minas Tirith on my travels."

"Then this would be another great service Harry, for I fear the delay we will see from our enforced path might see Gondor fallen before we can bring aid," said Théoden.

"I can leave straight away then," said Harry, "and hopefully I can make sure there's still a city for you to save when you make it there."

"Do so, I promise you we will come to you in two days. Let them hold that long," commanded Théoden.

Harry bowed his head and turned Hildwig to return, attempting to shrug off the unsettling red gaze of the Mountain man as he did so. He would have to inform Éowyn and Merry of his new path. Before he could leave Éomer called out to him. "I will look to see you when the battle comes, Harry Gledfréa. Once we have drawn sword together and we shall do it again. You are not to fall before we arrive."

"As my lord wills," Harry said with a wry smile.

When he returned to his companions he found them dismounted and awaiting a command to camp for the night. He informed them of his newest mission and Éowyn became much wroth. "So now at the last you would wish to abandon me too?" she asked heatedly. "You said we would not be parted lest I wished it."

"It will not be long," said Harry with a shake of his head. "The host will reach Minas Tirith in two days."

"And all the hosts of Mordor will lay between us!" she cried.

Harry smiled and reached out to cup her still helmeted face. "It will take more than that to keep me from your side. I've grown rather fond of your company."

She leaned into his hand a little before looking up at him. "And I yours. I still would not be sundered from you."

"It will be only temporary. I swear I will return to you," he said firmly, "no matter what the circumstances."

She looked between his eyes for a long time, her gaze flickering back and forth between them. Finally she flashed forward and closed the meagre distance between them. Her lips brushed over his for the briefest moment and the cold metal of her half-helm kissed his forehead.

"I will hold you to that, my Lord." she said, and she turned and left.

He stared into space for a moment then, before she could pass from sight he called to her, "My Lady, I would have you mind my horse while I am away. I can't take her with me." To Apparate with a creature so nervous as a horse, even one as intelligent as a Mearas was no kind thing.

She turned back to him. "I will," she called back, "but only these next two days." Then she was gone.

o-o

Harry arrived in a usually quiet alley in the first circle of Minas Tirith minutes later with a soft pop. Much as he had previously visited Edoras he had also seen the White City of Gondor in his travels. He was now thankful for those travels for the city was in turmoil and he could see the despair amongst the men.

The city was filled with men and most were heavily armed and armoured in the fine steel of the Gondorian soldiery, even the dark corner he in which he appeared was not so deserted as he'd hoped and he was lucky to avoid drawing attention. All throughout the city were men by the thousand, most wore the armour of Minas Tirith but there were many others too. He had not travelled to all the corners of the nation and thus could not recognise the regalia of all the men now stationed there but he did recognise the silver swan of Dol Amroth flying over the city.

Even Harry had heard of Imrahil, Prince of Dol Amroth. He was held high among the Men of the west for his was a stature that hearkened back to the glory days of Gondor, not long after the fall of Westernesse. He controlled Belfalas, the largest and most populous region of Gondor bar the Pelennor wherein lay Minas Tirith itself.

Since the days of the Kings of Gondor the Steward of Minas Tirith and the Prince of Dol Amroth shared much of the burden of ruling Gondor between them. Though now Minas Tirith was much reduced from those days the same was not true of the great coastal city of Dol Amroth which stood yet unmarred by the darkness.

Harry climbed his way through the circles of the city and was able to look out over the Pelennor beyond. It seemed as if the stars had fallen from the sky and now moved upon the earth, so numerous were the flames beyond the great walls of the city. Already then, the city was besieged and by a force many times greater than that seen at Helm's Deep.

As he walked he listened and he overheard the men talking. The Rammas Echor, the walls that surrounded Pelennor had fallen; Faramir, beloved Captain of Gondor, had fallen to the winged Nazgûl; Gandalf had ridden out with Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth in a sortie and had driven them off with a bright light to save Faramir. No news had come from Rohan. That, at least, Harry would fix.

He approached one of the Guards of the seventh level. "I bear news from Théoden of Rohan for Lord Denethor."

"Lord Denethor does not see anyone since his son returned so direly injured," said the man unhappily. "I would take your word to him but it will avail you not I fear."

Harry frowned and shook his head, "Then who is in charge of the city?"

"Prince Imrahil and Mithrandir coordinate the defence, I do not know where they may be. At the last I knew they inspected the walls on the first level," said the guard.

"Then I shall go find them," Harry said with a sigh as he turned to retrace his steps. "Thank you for your help."

"Go you to the armoury of the Guard on the sixth level," he said before Harry left. "Tell my son Bergil that Beregond sends you and asks he help you locate the Wizard."

Harry nodded to Beregond in thanks though he didn't need help to find the wizard. He barely even needed a locating spell for now that he knew where to look Gandalf's presence seemed to shine in his mind's eye.

He eventually found Gandalf in deep conversation with a tall and uncommonly handsome man wearing gleaming plate armour embossed with the Swan of Amroth. Prince Imrahil, Harry assumed as he came upon them the Prince was speaking.

"A host lies across the northward road, Orcs and grim men from the east. Even should Rohan come it will not avail us here," Imrahil was saying seriously.

"Rohan will come," interjected Harry, drawing a surprised look from Gandalf. "They are taking a secret path past the Orcs and will be here the morning after next."

"Harry!" cried Gandalf, "How came you here, unlooked for with news much sought?"

"I have my wizardly ways," he said with a smile, "I'm sure you can appreciate that Gandalf."

The grey-bearded Istar grumbled a little. "None so speedy as yours must be, and I would hear of them before long if I may. But your news is most welcome though would that Rohan could have arrived with you."

"This is Harry Naurhîr? The Wizard of Rohan?" asked Imrahil, his voice deep and strangely melodic. "Good news this is indeed, for if the stories are true your craft will be most useful in keeping the Orcs from our city."

"Indeed," said Gandalf as amusement twinkled in his eyes in a fashion strongly reminiscent of another old and bearded wizard of Harry's memory. "Harry the Flame Master, an auspicious name for one so young. But come, what news do you bear?"

"Théoden rides with a little over six thousand, all mounted and fighting men," said Harry, his mouth pulling into a slight grin when he thought of two of those 'men'. "When the darkness came we rode immediately and without waiting for the complete muster. There is news of an army moving south into Rohan from Dol Guldur and Théoden hopes that the men left behind may be able to keep them from doing too much damage.

"Aragorn took the Paths of the Dead and I know many of the Rohirrim fear him lost. He claimed that the path would get him here with greater speed than our own but I do not see him in your company."

"Troubling news," said Gandalf, "though if any may walk the Paths of the Dead and live it would be Aragorn. If he has then he may yet come to our aid. Belfalas and Lebennin suffer under the raids of the Corsairs of Umbar and neither sent significant aid to Minas Tirith before the host of Mordor came hither. With luck it may be that Aragorn can bring them to our aid here."

"I suspect, as do many, that this Aragorn may be more than the mere Ranger you would have us believe," said Imrahil, "but I will say nothing of it outside our councils for his help will be greatly appreciated. If Aragorn could lift the Corsairs from the coasts of Belfalas then I would be greatly indebted. I was sore to leave my home when it was so imperilled but I knew the defence of Minas Tirith was of greater importance still. Should Rohan come to our aid and my lands made safe then we may yet survive. We must merely hold out ere they make it here."

"That still remains no 'mere' task," said Gandalf with a shake of his head. "More than forty thousands move now across the Pelennor burning all before them. This host is commanded by no Orc, there is a purpose and a plan behind their actions and I fear the Black Captain of Sauron is to be our foe."

"We will have men enough to hold for the day," argued Imrahil, "Even should Sauron himself come upon us tomorrow the valour of Gondor would hold the walls."

"Nay! Speak not of such doom," said Gandalf, "for if the Dark Lord did come hither then nought could stand before him and the gates would be rended and torn by his wrath ere moments had passed. Nay, our only hope lies in the enemy not knowing that help comes to Minas Tirith, for if they push us truly then we will be lost. Even should he stay within his fastness at Barad-dûr we will be most direly tested before this day is out."

"I might be able to do something about that," said Harry, glad there was something he could do. "I have seen the Great Gate and it is strong, but my magic could make it near impenetrable."

"That would aid us well I feel," said Imrahil, "for though the Gates are strong they are not unbreachable. What else could your magic do for us in our need?"

"I'll have to wait and see how the attack comes," said Harry. "Had I been here a week earlier I could perhaps have erected more formidable defences but for now there is no time to strengthen them. That said I can fight pretty well and if they have catapults I may be able to do something about them but until I see how we are stretched I won't expend my energies."

"That would be wise, I think," Gandalf said thoughtfully, "I shall be most interested to see your magics at work."

Harry smiled at the older wizard. "And I look forward to seeing yours. I get the feeling we'll both be surprised."

And so, when the dim half-light of the day once again allowed the men to look out over the Pelennor with their eyes the host of Mordor was seen beyond the walls. Tens of thousands of Orcs screamed and roared at the defenders as they bayed for the blood of Men.

Among the Orcs walked huge creatures, Olog-Hai, trolls in the design of Sauron stronger, smarter and much more violent than any normal troll. Where Trolls could not suffer the sun and were turned to stone under its gaze the Olog-Hai were unmoved and unafraid thanks to the long experimentation of the Dark Lord. Some said that just as the Uruk-Hai were a cruel mix of Orc and the very worst of men so too were Olog-Hai the offspring of Man and Troll. How such an unspeakable union could come about none would ever say.

Harry had never seen so many beings in once place before. He could not help but feel an edge of doubt within him, for surely even the combined armies of Gondor and Rohan could not hope to wash such a great stain of bodies from the fields about the White City. The muster of Rohan, six thousand men whom Harry had though looked grand and unassailable now looked a paltry host in comparison.

"How is it that Sauron has so many followers?" He asked Gandalf as both stood atop the walls and surveyed the forces arrayed below.

"The evil of Sauron has been growing for a great many years," admitted Gandalf. "We have been slow to act but also we were much slower to realise. For many long years he resided in Dol Guldur and was not contested in his mastery of that place. When finally we moved to act he returned to his Domain in Mordor and already his power was such that we could not hope to assault him there."

"Then how can we even hope to win against him?" Harry asked, "We can at best earn a temporary reprieve."

"No reprieve longer than a few days could be gained," admitted Gandalf. "For the Enemy has thrice the numbers needed to lay low the realms of men. Our hope takes another path and secrecy is its only defence."

"But you won't tell me any more?" said Harry in resignation.

"It is not through a lack of trust that I keep it from you," said Gandalf apologetically. "You have been a great ally to us, though Aragorn may believe such fortune to be suspicious. The Dark Lord has ears in all places in these days and his Eye sees far. I would not now talk of it openly to anyone. You more than most will draw his gaze to you, I would not take such a dire risk."

Harry had to accept that. He disliked being kept ignorant for he now felt himself to be utterly invested in the fate of Middle-earth yet he recognised the need for secrecy. If Sauron had such a reach as Gandalf said then surely it was best to keep anything so important completely secret. Both wizards returned to their pacing of the walls, though Harry was not so recognised within Minas Tirith as was Mithrandir word of his actions had spread and he was still seen as a source of hope in the darkness.

The Orcs did not attempt the walls though, instead they focussed on the Gates. Even without Harry's charms the Gates would have been unmoved by the paltry rams brought against it. Many hundreds of Orcs died in fruitless assaults on the Gates that morning but they would not stop for the will of Sauron and his Black Captain pushed them ever onwards.

Also among the army were great catapults and trebuchets and by late morning they had been brought close enough to assail the city. Seeing the great damage those siege engines could to the city and the morale of the defenders Harry decided that his magic would be well used to defend against them. He stood atop the great pinnacle of the city, high upon the shoulder of Mindolluin so that he might have the best vantage from which to act.

His wand flicked back and forth and with each flick a huge missile of fire and stone would freeze in the air beyond the walls of the city, hanging for a moment before falling and spelling the doom of many an Orc. Ten, twenty, thirty times his spell captured and froze the great projectiles and the city stood safe before the fires of Mordor.

Soon though came the winged Nazgûl and Harry was forced to defend himself from them and fires fell upon the great city below as he tried to drive back the fell beasts assailing him.

He could not remain so exposed in the courtyard atop the city in the face of the Nazgûl of the air. Though he could contest with individual Ringwraiths he could not fight their combined power. The men in the city could not fell their mounts for in their fear their arrows missed by a wide margin. Those that did hit did little damage for though the bows of Gondor were fine of make and design they could not match up to the bows of the Galadhrim and only those bows could now hope to pierce their foul hide.

In the gloom of the day without dawn he found his own light producing spells weaker and less effective against the Nazgûl. He could still drive them from him but they would not stay away long, ever did they return and never did their influence rise from over the defenders save when Gandalf rode near.

The presence of the Nazgûl also sapped the will of the defenders for the cry of their fell beasts caused the strongest heart to quail. Gandalf rode across the entire city and his shining presence drove the shadow of despair back from the defenders' minds. Soon though he would move on and the gnawing terror would return and their courage would wane.

Here too Harry tried to aid in the defence. Though his presence did not have the impact of the White Wizard his patronus had some small calming effect on the defenders. So while Harry attempted to fend off the beasts in the air so too did his patronus pass among the defenders in the hope that it might drive away some measure of the sorrow and fear that now assailed them. Still no assault upon the city came.

Denethor would not bestir himself from his injured son's side and so the defence of the city fell in whole to Gandalf. Harry offered to look at the injured Faramir in the hope that it might bring the Steward of Gondor to the battle but Denethor refused absolutely.

When Harry asked again for entrance, this time insisting that the guard bear a message his words in response were in equal measure worrying and confusing, "I would not have such a tool of the Enemy within my City had I any other option, he will never inflict his darkness upon my son. Let him know that I see his purpose here."

In the end Harry decided that the battle was most important, once it was won he would help Faramir and damn the consequences. For now, however, it was important that he abide by the direct commands of the master of the city for he could easily make the battle even more difficult.

Before night came down upon the defenders Harry was able to destroy a large number of the siege catapults by Apparating near to them and setting them aflame. He was able to appear next to the great engines without being heard by any for the cries of the Orcs where like thunder upon the air. He appeared out of nowhere and in moments the crew was killed or dismembered by the flashing lights from his wand.

All about the Orcs roared at the sight of him and fell beasts beat their wings to assail him yet his work was but moments. First he set the great trebuchet aflame then spun his wand over his head and a great wall of fire erupted between himself and the Orcs attempting to charge him. He did not have the time to do more for the Nazgûl would surely fall upon him in moments but it would ensure that the siege engine could not be saved. After a few bare seconds he Disapparated back to the City to find his next target.

Against this the Orcs had no defence and by nightfall near all of the siege engines had been destroyed. The damage they had inflicted was still severe. Behind the walls a great fire raged and the teams of men who fought it did so without much hope. Yet a cheer went up from the defenders when they saw each of the engines consumed by his fires but soon again their optimism was dampened.

Still no assault upon the walls came and Harry then turned his abilities to quelling the fires that now raged within the city. Great streams of water flew from his wand and small puddles rose up in wrath to strike the flames from the houses of the White City. The City was too large for him to save it all as he found himself still coming under periodic attacks from Nazgûl but a great many store houses were saved by his efforts.

Into the evening it siege continued and as the meagre light once again failed great siege towers and more catapults were seen approaching from Osgiliath. It took some hours for them to make it to the walls of the city but once they did the fighting was immediate and desperate.

When the first of the towers came upon the walls Harry was quickly there and was able to blast it from their battlements before the attacking Orcs could gain the walls. But even as he did this another two disgorged their foul load upon the defenders. Harry once again Apparated to the first of the siege towers he saw and the men of Gondor were already locked in a desperate fight. Harry once again threw the tower down in a pillar of flames before joining the fray to end the threat of those Orcs that had issued from it. His sword flashed and his wand flickered yet the battle was not difficult for seeing Harry upon them and their reinforcements lost the Orcs lost their courage and fled before the vengeful defenders.

The huge towers were clad in thick metal and pushed by massive and ugly beasts. In the dark of the night and with the continuing attacks from the air Harry was able to destroy fewer half of the towers before they reached the walls and the fighting reached the first circle of the city.

Every time he came upon a stretch of wall that had been overcome by Orcs Harry would first target the tower to ensure no more Orcs could come that way then he would lead a charge of the defenders against the now stranded and terrified Orcs. Gandalf did the same though his magic was not capable of blasting the towers from the walls his presence was even more demoralising for the Orcs as the sheer lightness of his presence caused them pain and discomfort.

Many times Harry's wall of flames spell was summoned and his great warriors of flame marched upon the Orcs atop the walls. Rarely did they last long though for when the winged Nazgûl came near their warmth and strength would wane and flicker like a candle in a wind before finally the flames guttered and died completely. Instead Harry began summoning birds and beasts, eagles, wolves and tigers were in abundance upon the walls and the men of Gondor were in awe of them.

Long the night lasted and Harry slowly became tired. Near two nights without sleep and an almost constant battle had frayed his strength yet still he fought. When Gandalf was near Harry too felt the weight of weariness lift from him and for a while would fight renewed. Yet still the battle wages. His sword and magic cut down dozens or even hundreds of Orcs yet still they came without pause of respite.

All across the City the defenders were embattled and exhausted. Though Harry was seemingly everywhere at once the City was too large for any one man to hope to cover. Ever he would regain an area, drive the Orcs from the walls only for them to return bare minutes later as another siege tower came upon it.

Then the Witch King came and Gandalf was not to be found.

All of the Nine assailed the city and the Chief among them sat before the Great Gates astride his black steed. Beside him was Grond, a battering ram of impossible size and named for the Hammer of the Underworld, the weapon of Morgoth in the First Age. He raised over his head his armour clad hands and unleashed the sorcerous power granted him by his dark master. "Grond, Grond!" shouted the thousands of Orcs at his back and the Gates shook upon the impact of the great siege engine, but they did not fall.

Three times the great ram of Sauron smote the gates and still they stood. Three times again the gates were struck and still they stood though they smoked at the power of Sauron's weapon.

Harry felt a gathering of power beyond the gates and knew that they would not survive for ever, doing what he could he reinforced his charms and Apparated off to aid on the walls for he could not afford to be idle.

Long the gates and walls stood against the unnatural attack but eventually Harry felt his charms unravel and the Gate was broken and blasted aside. Minutes earlier Gandalf had been called to the seventh level of the city for the mind of Denethor had been overthrown and he now sought his own death by fire. It fell to Harry to defy the power of the Witch King of Angmar and he was left to do it alone for no man in Minas Tirith had the strength to stand against the Captain of Barad-dûr.

He Apparated into the now open gateway strewn with smoking and blasted metal and faced the dark and terrifying presence of the Chief of the Nine.

As the Lord of Nazgûl rode through the Gates through which no enemy had before passed, all the defenders were taken by terror and fled before him. All the defenders but one.

"That is quite far enough," called Harry over the tumult of battle and frenzied chanting from without. "This city is under my protection, you will come no further."

The tall figure atop the dark steed met his gaze, twin sinister fires blazing beneath the black hood. He raised his gauntleted hands to his head and lowered the hood for all to see. Where Harry had expected the pale flesh and lone mouth of a Dementor there was nothing, no flesh or bone at all. Only a crown of bronze resting in the air atop the disembodied twin fires of his eyes.

A rattling sound issued from the First of the Ringwraiths as he laughed at his opponent. "The lost boy, the wanderer," he hissed, his voice reminding Harry of another foe from years past. "The failed hero, seed of darkness eternal. The downfall of all you seek to protect."

And a dark power issued from the figure, such that it almost drove Harry to his knees in despair.

"Such is the strength of men. It is no wonder it fails so readily," came a whisper that was heard by all who stood near. "Touched by the Great Death, yet too weak to stand." The rattling sound returned as the Black Rider looked down upon the tortured shape of the lone man before him.

Yet Harry was not done, many years it had been since his willpower had been tested so but still he remembered his old strength. He fought the influence as he fought the Imperius of Voldemort as a child for he would never allow another to control him so. He thought of his promise to Éowyn and knew that he had only one option; to drive the Witch king back. With a cry and a blinding flash Harry cast off the spell and shadow laid upon him and the fell horse of the Black Captain reared back in fright.

His wand burst forward in that moment and a blast of white light struck the figure causing it to scream in pain or rage. Behind the light rode Prongs glorious and shining, and the horse shied before the light and love of the patronus.

The Lord of Minas Morgul and vessel for the hate and power of Sauron would not be so easily driven off. In a moment his will mastered his horse and another wave of dark power rolled from the figure and the light of the patronus flickered. Then he drove his horse against the great white stag and struck at it with his Morgul Blade as flames of dark power flickered along its edge.

"Your light is weak, as are you," said the Lord of Nazgûl. "Before the darkness there can be no defence." He rode ever closer and Harry wavered.

Harry was astonished when the patronus fell and faded before the black burning steel, and felt a deep stab of anguish in his own heart as hope was torn from him. Yet he would not give up and never would he accept defeat while breath still remained in his lungs. Conjuring thoughts of his last exchange with Éowyn and his hope for a life without the painful loneliness that had marred his years till then he bellowed the words, "Expecto Patronum!"

Again the great stag burst forth, taller now than even the Witch King ahorse. From it such a light shone that overhead the dark clouds of Sauron drew back and lo! The sun was once again in the sky and a brief dawn had come to Gondor through the blackest shadow. From the small breach in the clouds and dark shadow of Mordor shone a pillar of light upon the White City and it seemed to glow with inner light. All around felt the sense of hopelessness and despair lift just slightly.

The darkness of the Lord of Nazgûl could not stand the pulsing, living light of the patronus and was driven back in steps beyond the gate once more. A great screech rent the air and fell beasts descended to his aid for Harry could not hope to stand against the combined might of the Nine.

Then came horns by the hundred, rolling across the planes. Horns of the North. From the Orcs beyond the walls came a wailing and a fear and the Witch King looked to the North and in that moment abandoned the gate. For now granted reprieve, Harry dropped his wand in uttermost weariness yet hope rekindled his strength and he was renewed.

Rohan had come.

A/N: Hoo boy. So things are now officially serious. I hope the encounter with the Witch King read well. Gandalf's encounter in the books is awesome and I obviously can't match it but hopefully it holds together. Hopefully no-one is annoyed that Harry didn't curb stomp the Witch King.

I realise the Ringwraiths - Dementors connection is an old one but it's just so tempting. Ringwraiths are, however, a LOT more dangerous than Dementors, a fact that Harry just learned. In Book!Canon the Witch King gets a power-up from Sauron for the battle of Pelennor Fields, so Harry has a bit of a hard time of it.

There's a lot of info in this chapter about Gondor. Most of it is largely unimportant and is simply part of their conversations but I'll cover some of them.

Witch King of Angmar, Lord of Minas Morgul, Lord of the Nine, Lord of Nazgul, Black Captain. All names of the same person (as you will likely have guessed). He collects them like stamps.

Mearas are super-horses. Felaróf and Eorl have a story in the mythos and since then all Felaróf's line have been the horses of the king's line. Mearas are ridiculously smart and swift horses.

Hildwig is an OC and basically a throwaway reference to Hedwig (OMGREALLY?). She mostly exists to have a little moment between Théoden and Harry. The name is a rendering of Hedwig into the language of Rohan (Hedwig is more germanic)

In the books Merry doesn't realise the rider bringing him along is Éowyn until they're in the battle. Hard to believe but there you go, if there's any diehard Merry fans out there wanting to shout at me over that then blame Tolkien.

I mostly explained Ghân-buri-Ghân's people in text. They're very old indeed (though they live short lives) and are said to know earth-magic. They're a mysterious and secretive line of humans and almost completely unknown. Even the language they use is unknown, Drycrâftig is Old English again (altered to fit the language cues for the Drúedain) and means 'those with the power of sorcery'.

Westernesse is Westron (common tongue) for Númenor the island from which the first kings of Gondor came after it sunk (long story). Often used interchangeably by Tolkien.

Naurhîr is, roughly, Gledfréa (Master of Fire) rendered into Sindarin. A Gondorian wouldn't use a Rohirric title.

Lebennin and Belfalas are two regions of Gondor, near the coast to the south west.

The Pelennor is the large area encircled by the Rammas Echor (Sindarin for Great Wall). It's mostly farm land.

Minas Morgul was once the sister city to Minas Tirith (both of which were mere outposts guarding the true capital city of Osgiliath) but was taken by Mordor long ago and is now controlled by the Witch King.

I think that's it for the broken references. Thanks again for the wonderful reviews. Over half way done. Sadpants.