((Here's another chappie! Thanks for the reviews. I don't own HP or LotR.))

Chapter 2: Attack on Weathertop

The gatekeeper sat snoring in his hutch, wrapped up in his cloak. The rain had finally stopped, although it was still quite cold. He was jarred awake by a loud hammering on the gate. "Open! Open in the name of Mordor!" hissed an unsettling voice.

He growled and stood. "Gate's closed until tomorrow morning! Go away"

The voice laughed and then all fell silent. The gatekeeper went to make sure that whoever it was had gone, but as soon as he opened the porthole, the whole gate was blasted off its hinges and fell, crushing him. In charged five Black Riders, thundering down the streets of Bree. Those scant few who remained outside cowered in fear at their very presence, praying to the gods that they weren't the targets of the monsters.

The five riders went right up to the Prancing Pony and dismounted. They were getting close. They could smell it.

Harry awoke with a start and sat up. He looked wildly around the room, not knowing where he was for a moment, but seconds later, it all came back to him. He saw Strider sitting by the window with his sword ready. Frodo stood by him, his face pale with fear. The rest of the Hobbits were sound asleep in one bed while he and Malfoy were in another. When he looked down, he realized that he and Draco had gotten rather close as they slept. Feeling strange and unsettled, he quietly slipped out of the bed and joined Strider and Frodo by the window.

Suddenly, an ear piercing wail broke the silence, waking everyone in the room up.

"They're downstairs..." whispered Harry. Strider nodded and tightened his grip on his sword. Harry felt nauseated at the thought of what might have happened, had they refused the Ranger's advice.

"What are they?" asked Frodo.

Strider sighed. "They were once men. Great Kings of Men. But Sauron the Deceiver gave to them nine Rings of Power. Blinded by their greed, they took them without question, one by one, falling into Darkness. Now, they are slaves to his will. They are the Nazgul; Ringwraiths, neither living, nor dead. As long as they exist, they will never stop hunting you."

"But why do they want you?" asked Malfoy. "I mean, no offence, but you don't seem that important."

Frodo glanced at Strider who shrugged. "You might as well tell them, Frodo. They are caught up in this just as much as you and me.

Frodo proceeded to launch into the tale of how his Uncle had found a Magic Ring in a cave and had passed it on to him. He then told them what Gandalf informed him of, about how it was the One Ring forged by the Dark Lord Sauron. Harry felt his fear growing. This Sauron made Voldemort seem like nothing. "We were to meet Gandalf here and he was going to give us further instructions, but he wasn't here." Frodo finished.

Strider nodded. "I met Gandalf on his way to see Saruman. He told me to wait here until Frodo arrived. Then, I was to accompany them wherever he went. But I am unsettled by Gandalf's absence. Never have I known him to be late before on a matter of such great importance. I do not even want to think of what might be able to hold him up. But we cannot wait. At first light, we must leave. We fooled the Wraiths this night, but they will not be fooled again. We will make for Rivendell. In Gandaf's absence, we must seek the protection and council of Lord Elrond."

"Rivendell!" exclaimed Sam. "Did you hear that, Mr. Frodo? We're goin' to see the Elves!"

Frodo smiled at Sam's exuberance, but it faded and he again looked troubled.

Strider woke them even before first light.

Harry was used to getting up early. He had often been forced to get up at the crack of dawn to make sure breakfast was ready before Uncle Vernon got downstairs. Draco however... "No, leave me alone. Potions isn't for another two hours." Finally they got him up and they packed their things. But leaving was to prove quite difficult. The Horse Pen had been opened during the night and all of the horses and ponies to be found had run off.

Strider sighed, looking at the empty pen. A short ways off, several men were having it out with Mr. Butterbur, demanding compensation. Butterbur retorted that one of their number seemed to be missing and that perhaps they should ask him about their horses. This quickly shut them up and they went back inside. The man came over to the companions, muttering about "Never in all my time...Whole Hobbits vanishing into thin air...Evil spirits."

"Could you find us any horse or pony at all, Barliman?" Strider asked.

Butterbur sighed. "Yes...But I had to buy it from Bill Ferney."

"What does that mean?" Frodo asked.

"It means," said Strider with a sigh, "that the poor beast is likely to die after a mile on the road. And that Barliman here was forced to pay thrice what it was worth."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Butterbur." said Sam. "I wish we could repay you in some way."

Butterbur waved his hand dismissively. "No need to apologize, little master. You're friends of Mr. Gandalf and he did tell me to expect you. I feel bad that I forgot. I just hope he won't roast me for it."

They said their goodbyes to Mr. Butterbur and loaded the pony with as much as they had the heart to make it carry. It seemed happy to be in better hands and took a special liking to Sam who named it Bill.

By the time they left town, it was nearly eight-o-clock.

Soon after Bree had faded away into the mist, it began to snow. Harry quickly decided that he hated the stuff. At Hogwarts, it was a wonderful thing. It turned the school grounds into a winter wonderland. There, he liked the cold because he knew there was a roaring fire and a piping hot shower waiting for him in Gryffindor Common-House, and then a delicious hot meal in the dining hall. But here, wet, cold mornings led into wet, cold afternoons, which then proceeded into wet, cold nights. And between very, very short stops, there was nothing but walking and more walking. Harry felt his legs would soon fall off. The food didn't make things any better either. They could never find enough dry wood to make a real fire, so they were forced to eat stale bread and dried fruit.

After many miles, the snow finally ended. But in its place came torrential rain. Their cloaks soon became too soaked to be of any real use. And to make it worse, Strider had forced them to leave the road and cut through a bog that he called the Midgewater Marsh.

Midges, it turned out, were evil cousins of flies who flew in large clouds and swooped down to bite anything that came close.

Draco slapped about the millionth bug that had tried to make lunch out of him since they had entered this god-forsaken bog the day before. He imagined he would be a fine sight back at home. His robes were soaked and covered in mud, his platinum-blonde hair, which he took such pride in, was plastered to his head, and his skin was covered in red splotches from all the midge bites he had received. But at least Potter was doing no better, he mused. Harry kept having to stop and wipe his glasses. After a while of this, he slapped his forehead and pulled out his wand and pointed it at the glasses. "Impervius." he said. He remembered the handy spell for making things repel water from when Hermione had used it to help him in a Quidditch match third year.

"What do they eat..." SLAP! "...when they can't get Hobbit!" asked Merry who was also trying to ward off the nasty little creatures.

"They eat Wizard!" Draco growled, killing a particularly large and nasty Midge.

But the Midges weren't the only evil bug to be found in the marsh. At night, sleep was impossible, thanks to the thousands of crickets that made it their mission to make as much racket as possible. Needless to say, tempers were very short.

After three days, they finally reached the end of the marsh. As they stepped out onto firm, dry land, Draco turned back and gave the swamp both fingers. Pippin and Merry asked what that meant, but Harry refused to answer.

Strider gazed up at a hill which rose before them. At the top could be seen a ring of ruins.

"This was the great watch-tower of Amon-Sul." he said. "We shall rest here tonight."

It took walking around the hill twice before they found a way up that Bill could make it up, but at long last, the Wizards and the Hobbits dropped their packs and slumped down on the ground, massaging their aching feet. Strider, on the other hand, stepped out to survey the land.

"Doesn't he ever rest?" muttered Draco.

Strider turned back to them and pulled out a small bundle from his pack. He unfurled it to reveal four short swords. "These are for you. Harry, Draco, I have none for you, I'm afraid, but you don't seem to need any extra protection."

The Hobbits each took a sword.

Strider stood. "Stay here. I'm going to go have a look 'round. Harry, would you come with me? Draco, watch after them. Keep out of sight. We are not out of danger yet." Harry groaned, but put his shoes back on and followed the Ranger down the hill.

"My tomato burst."

"Here, have some more."

"More sausages, Mr. Draco?"

Frodo awoke to these sounds, along with the smell of food and fire. He sat up like a shot. "What are you doing!" he practically screamed.

"Tomatoes, sausages and nice crispy bacon." said Merry calmly.

"We saved some for you, Mr. Frodo." said Sam.

Frodo rushed forward and stamped the fire out. "Put it out, you fools, put it out!"

"Oh nice one, mate," said Draco. "You got ash all over my tomatoes!"

A blood-curdling wail which they knew all too well pierced the air. They ran to the lip of the outcropping and gazed down into the fog. They could see five black shapes moving swiftly towards the hill. Frodo drew his sword. "Go!" he shouted. Nobody had to tell them twice. The other Hobbits drew their swords and Draco drew his wand and they ran up to the top of the hill. They stood with their backs to one-another and looked around wildly.

Frodo saw it first. A tall figure draped in a black cloak seemed to appear out of the darkness. It hissed and drew a long, pale sword. Four others soon followed. Everyone turned and cringed in fear when they saw the Wraiths advancing.

Draco, in an uncharacteristic display of bravery, used the first spell he could think of. "Stupefy!" The lead Wraith held up its gloved hand as a bolt of red light lanced towards it. The hand glowed red for a moment before the spell launched right back at Draco. The young wizard flew through the air and landed a few feet back from the Hobbits, out cold.

Sam shouted "Back you devils!" as he tried to cross swords with one of them, but was thrown aside like a rag-doll. Merry and Pippin also tried to protect Frodo, but they too were tossed aside.

Frodo's foot caught on a loose stone, causing him to topple backwards and drop his sword. He felt an irresistable voice, screaming at him to put on the Ring. He struggled against it with all his might, but as the Wraith reached towards him, he could resist no longer. He wasn't even consciously aware of taking the Ring out of his pocket. But all of a sudden, everything around him became dim and indistinct He looked up. Though the world was blanketed in shadowy, the forms of the Wraiths could be seen all too clearly.

Their skin was like old parchment. Where there should have been eyes, there were only sunken sockets. They wore grey robes which shone with a sickly light and atop their heads were pale crowns. The leader drew a long dagger from a hidden sheath and advanced on Frodo. He tried desperately to get up and run but he couldn't. The dagger came down and pierced his shoulder. He screamed for the torment it inflicted on him.

Suddenly, out of the darkness, a voice called out. "Expecto Patronum!" A shining white stag leapt over him and charged the Wraiths. At the same time, a figure wielding a torch and a sword also charged.

Harry directed Prongs around while Strider swung the torch at the Wraiths. One tried to attack the Patronus from the back, but a swift rear kick sent it flying. Strider set one on fire with his torch, sending it screaming over the side of the hill. Seconds later, it was all over.

"Strider!" called Sam.

He and Harry ran over to where Sam, Merry and Pippin were kneeling over the prone form of Frodo. A few feet away, Draco was just coming out of his daze. Strider bent and picked up a wicked-looking dagger. "He's been stabbed by a Morgul Blade." As if in response, the blade hissed and disintegrated into a foul-smelling smoke. "This is beyond my skill to heal." said Strider. "He needs Elvish medicine."

They ran through the woods, with Harry and Draco providing light from their wands.

"We're six days from Rivendell!" cried Sam. "He'll never make it!"

"Hold on, Frodo." whispered Strider.

The young Hobbit muttered something then cried out, "Gandalf!"

Harry, at Strider's direction, was looking for a plant called Kingsfoil. He had described what it looked like, and Harry was fairly sure he remembered something like it from Herbology. Finally, he spotted some. He stooped to gather it, but suddenly felt cold steel against his neck. He froze.

"Who are you?" asked a suspicious voice.

Harry let out the breath he was holding. At least it wasn't one of those Wraiths.

"My name is Harry Potter. I'm a traveling companion of Strider the Ranger."

The sword wavered. "Strider? Take me to him."

"Hold on." said Harry. "I need to gather this Kingsfoil. One of our companions was stabbed by a Ringwraith.

"I have some in my pouch. Now quickly, take me to Strider." said the voice.

"Not until you take your sword away and tell me who you are." said Harry.

The sword was removed. "My apologies. I am Glorfindel, an Elf of Rivendell." Harry turned to face a man who was, well, there was no other way to say it; Beautiful. He had golden hair that almost shone in the darkness, and a face that could not be described in words. He sat gracefully atop a gorgeous white horse, and a light seemed to shine from within him.

Harry swallowed hard and led the way back to their camp.

Strider was overjoyed when he saw Glorfindel. The two embraced like long-lost friends and began to speak rapidly in a strange language. Soon, he was led over to Frodo. The Hobbit had gotten worse even since Harry had seen him last. His wound was turning a nasty shade of purple and he had broken out in a cold sweat. Strider had explained that he was passing into the shadow-world and that he would soon be a Wraith unless they could get him to Lord Elrond in Rivendell. Glorfindel examined Frodo with a grim look on his face. "He is fading. He is not going to last long. We must get him to Rivendell now. He will ride upon Asfaloth. We can send him ahead to Rivendell." He picked the Hobbit up and began to strap him into the saddle.

"Wait!" said Harry. "You can't send him alone! Someone has to go with him!"

"He will go faster alone," said Glorfindel. "And none of us can face the Nine all gathered together."

"But I can." said Harry.

Glorfindel laughed. "You? You cannot be more than fifteen summers, as Men reckon. And unless you have some hidden power about you-"

"But he does." said Strider. Glorfindel looked at him questioningly. "He has a power which the Nazgul fear. I believe he and Draco here to be Istari."

Glorfindel stared at Harry. "Is this true? Are you one of the Istari? Wizards like Mithrandir?"

Harry nodded. "Yes. We are Wizards. Look, we don't have time to sit around and talk. We have to go now or Frodo will die."

Glorfindel nodded reluctantly and put Harry in the saddle behind Frodo. Strider put a hand on his shoulder. "Harry, ride hard. Don't look back." Glorfindel leaned forward and whispered something in Asfaloth's ear. The Horse reared up and took off like a bolt of lightning.

"What the hell do you think you're doing!" Screamed Draco. "Those Wraiths are still out there!"