Chapter 12
My Precious Mornings
It was morning, with a perfectly bright sun shining beyond the open drapes and a crystal clear view of a lake and yawn stretching to a foreboding forest. This and more a certain hobbit saw as he awoke from where Pomona and Rolanda had laid him after he had fallen asleep. The couch was very large, especially for his size, and he had slept quite well, all things considered.
Stifling a yawn, Same jumped down from the couch and looked around curiously for the other three. Pomona snored loudly from her seat in the chair by the fireplace and Filius had curled up and appeared quite rested in several blankets by the same fire. How kind...Sam noted, noticing that both of them had given the couch to him and though he was certain that they had rooms and beds of their own to which they had no doubt been inclined to go... they had stayed to watch over him; or no doubt to watch him. Either way it was a kind thought and lifted the little hobbit's heart.
Rolanda was nowhere to be seen. Guessing she had probably headed off to her bed, Sam tiptoed to the window to see the grounds better. He was astounded by the sheer size of the sprawling grounds, amazed by how much gardening skill and time would be needed to keep it... but then he thought that since they taught magic; they probably kept it with magic. Shy of a full load though many considered him, Samwise Gamgee was a good deal more intelligent than most gave him due credit. His curious nature and desire to learn had blessed him with a sharper mind than the average hobbit, though he did enjoy the simplicity of a lack of need to figure out a problem. But such is the nature of hobbits, young or old.
"Sleep well?" He turned sharply, eyes wide to see Rolanda suddenly appear behind him. Apparently she had been in the bathroom.
He nodded, wondering if it would be wise to ask the same of her... something by her red rimmed yellow eyes told him not to. He already knew, or more suspected that Minerva, Headmistress of Hogwarts, bless his memory of herbs and such... was more than a boss to those present. They said her name with respect but with friendly thought, devotion in their plans and perseverance to get her back unmatched with that of a worry for employment. She was their friend...
"Good." Rolanda called out for something called a house elf, and Sam watched with wide eyes and an open mouth when a odd little creature popped into existence with a loud pop. "Would you get us all breakfast..." Rolanda sighed, too tired to care about what its name was. The creature nodded happily and vanished.
"What was that?" Sam felt the words leave his lips before he could stop them and promptly blushed red with embarrassment.
Rolanda chuckled, amused at the blush more so than the question.
"A house elf, they sort of act like servants. Clean, wash, cook... frightfully queer little things, but friendly in the worse way." Sam wasn't so sure he'd call them elves... since the elves from his world were always thought of in a more beautiful sense.
"Oh..."
"Goodness, what time is it?" Filius asked, sitting up. His sparse bits of hair stuck up like a bushed onion and Sam bit his lip to not chuckle.
"Its only 0800... No need to jump up yet." Rolanda assured him. "No classes and we have yet to-" Pomona cut her off as she jumped to her feet.
"I need to water!" she gasped, running from the room and in the process nearly knocking poor Filius over as she tripped but caught herself on the corner of his blankets.
"AHH!" Filius pulled his hand back from Pomona's foot just before it hit and watched with blinking eyes as the herbology mistress and head of hufflepuff vanished out the door.
"Good morning." he murmured, nodding to Sam and Rolanda.
-----
"You will keep an eye on Frodo, won't you?" Bilbo asked, gathering up items for his trip. Gandalf nodded, following after him.
"Two eyes, as often as I can spare them." he replied.
Minerva folded her arms, wondering suddenly why it was so cold... she found it wonderful that Gandalf could be so very kind and yet strong of mind, not allowing a smile to be a weakness, but at the same time, allowing it to be a strength.
"I think you should leave the ring behind, Bilbo. Is that so hard?" Gandalf asked, his eyes looking down at his good friend.
"Well, no..." Bilbo frowned heavily and looked back to the ring. "And yes." he paused but then hurried on as if the words needed to be said without delay..."Now it comes to it, I don't feel like parting with it. It's mine, I found it. It came to me!" He was practically shouting by the end, his eyes flashing.
Taken aback, Gandalf's brows creased.
"There's no need to get angry..."
"Well, if I'm angry, it's your fault." Bilbo spat, his attention again fixing itself on the ring. Bilbo's countenance had changed and Minerva's eyes widened. What magical power in the ring might be powerful enough to create such a change in so sweet and kind a man? It was of a power that she wanted nothing to do with.
"...it's mine... my own... my precious... " Bilbo whispered, running his fingers over the ring, which he held in his palm. Gandalf's eyebrows raised at this, obviously surprised.
"Precious? It's been called that before, but not by you." his tone was hard yet seemingly gentle.
"Oh, what business is it of yours what I do with my own things?" Bilbo growled.
"I think you've had that ring quite long enough." Gandalf advised, despite Bilbo's obvious disdain to be parted from it.
His accusation proved that beyond a shadow of a doubt as he gestured toward Gandalf.
"You want it for yourself!"
"BILBO BAGGINS! Do not take me for some conjuror of cheap tricks! I am not trying to rob you..."
Gandalf's sudden display of power pulled Minerva from her thoughts and she gasped softly, fear suddenly running through her as she felt the magical disturbance wash through the room and the quivering hobbit backed up, petrified. Her heart slowly regained its regular rhythm, but only after Gandalf's soft murmur of assurance to Bilbo.
"...I'm trying to help you."
Bilbo whimpered softly going to his old friend and Minerva covered her mouth, shaken by what she had seen and the unexpectedness of it. Many times over the years she had lost her temper in such a manner, usually at Albus... but others had over the years been subjected to her Scottish temper. Severus Snape had been terribly fond seemingly of pulling her temper from its box, his sneer and flashing dark eyes goading it even further as his sharp retorts and lack of deeper emotion incensing Minerva more than even Albus' childish actions and illogical plans. But... she had learned that those dark eyes held more pain than anyone could ever guess.
She closed her eyes, blocking out the blurred image of Bilbo and Gandalf speaking about something. The night Albus had left Harry Potter on the Dursley's doorstep had been her most violent moment of anger with her friend and secret love. How she regretted the anger now... uncaring that it was justified through her fears and worries. Now he was dead and not once had she apologized for any one of their verbal spats. Not to Albus...not to Severus... not even to Rolanda, who had always found it "jolly" to mutter something inappropriate or droll just loudly enough for only Minerva to hear.
Thud
Her eyes opened and attempted to focus as she saw Bilbo hurry out the door and the small shimmering object was left glittering on the floor. Gandalf went after him; no doubt to bade farewell. Her breath caught in her breath; she could almost hear something, a whisper as if from a fading time.
Gandalf watched Bilbo slowly make his way out the gate and into the beyond, humming. The dependence his friend had exhibited for the ring, greatly disturbed him... especially the faint but growing feelings he had even with looking at the trinket.
Turning he reentered the house, stooping low to avoid bashing his head against the low door frame. He looked down at the ring Bilbo had so unwillingly dropped... the ring Gandalf had become quite certain, Bilbo needed to be parted from. Reaching down, he almost curled his fingers around it, stopping when he felt an unmistakable stab of darkness waft from the innocently inert object.
"Gandalf..." He looked up sharply, concern gripping his heart. Minerva looked pale, even in the dark room, the faint flicker of the fireplace sending shadows to dance across her face. Leaving the ring where it laid... for Frodo, Gandalf went to her side, taking her hand and assisting her to a chair he scooted in front of the fire. Her hand was cold to the touch and he patted it.
Something appeared to be deeply troubling her and Gandalf found that such a fact bothered him deeper than Bilbo's ring. Perhaps it was the same thoughts that had brought about her fainting spell earlier.
"What is it, my dear?" he asked, crouching in front of her, his hand still holding both of hers.
Minerva looked from the red yellow flames to Gandalf's eyes. They were a lighter blue, grey with such overwhelming deepness. The desire rose within her to simply throw herself into his embrace and sob long into the stitching darkness. But time had gifted her with restraint... and in the chair she remained, though she did find great comfort, limited though it was as his warm hands stayed holding her cold ones.
"It is foolish." she murmured, half to herself half to him. He smiled, the wrinkles around his mouth revealing to be laughter lines rather than those of worry.
"There is nothing foolish about truth." he assured her. But slowly their eyes left each others and soon lingered on the ring.
"What is it?" Minerva felt strangely uneasy with it in plain sight and so near. Pulling a chair to seat himself in, Gandalf sighed, releasing her hands with a final pat. His pipe was lifted to his lips and he expertly packed it.
"Most curious..." he murmured, steel eyes leaving the ring for the flames. He lit his pipe with a softly glowing ember and leaned forward, blowing a puff of smoke into the air. "There are many magical rings in the world... but there are only a few that my suspicions fall on." Minerva's eyebrows rose and he smiled, pained.
"Forgive me. I forget you are from another world." He rose from his seat. "Long ago, rings were forged for the races of Middle Earth. Three went to the elves; seven to the dwarf lords; nine to the race of men..." he trailed off, a deep sigh escaping his lips.
"What did the rings do?" Minerva asked, wondering if the ring perhaps was one that he had mentioned, if so, she could not understand why it seemed more... sinister. Perhaps she had been in a darkened world too long...
"Within each was the power to govern each race; unity and strength." He was leaving something out... she could see it. "But another was made..."
Gandalf shut the window, closing it with a soft bang. Mystery shrouded his features and he gripped his pipe tightly as he continued.
"In Mordor, Sauron forged a master ring to control the others. The peoples of Middle Earth fell to his sweeping malice and it would appear all to be lost... until at the last battle between the dark lord and the free peoples, Isildur, son of Elendil, cut the ring from the cursed hand... it was then it vanished."
Another dark lord; but thankfully a defeated one, Minerva sighed softly.
"Which is this one?" Gandalf sighed, obviously not certain as he looked at Minerva.
"Of that I am not certain... further research would reveal this though, I am sure." he took his seat once again, the dark flames shrouding his visage.