A/N: Because you lot are very good (I expect lots and lots of reviews for this), and I somehow decided that writing while I should be working and sleeping until 1:30-2:00 in the morning was a good idea, an absolute monster (seriously, it dwarfs all the others so far) of a chapter that is pretty much all Fellowship.
Okay, I've just noticed that I've mixed up the scenes in Moria. Let's just say they get surrounded twice, by an oversized scouting party the first time. Sorry. Also, I will be very impressed if anyone finds the mildly paraphrased quote by the Duke of Wellington within as well as one from the HP canon.
"Language, Harry." Gandalf said distractedly.
Harry, who had been trying to work out the best method of escape, wholesale destruction or a focused, blasted path, looked at him briefly, "Do you even know what that means?"
"I have spent my fair share of time in taverns, Harry, I am perfectly aware of what you meant."
"Is now the best time?"
Gandalf ignored him, instead opting make the light on his staff shine brighter, pushing the orcs, who weren't quite as numerous as had been previously apparent, back. Harry raised his eyebrows, and incanted, "Incendio Solem." A thin, golden beam light issued from the tip of Harry's wand, much like the light he had been using. That light, however, didn't cut all living tissue it touched like butter, or melt armour. Harry flicked his wand once, clearing the Fellowship's front, the other orcs clearly considering discretion the better part of valour and making good their escape.
Harry turned and grinned at Gandalf. "I've still got it old man, foul language or no."
"Show off." Gandalf muttered with a slight smile, leading the company forward again.
"'Old man?'" Pippin whispered incredulously.
Merry shrugged and said, "Wizards," as if it explained everything. In this case, it probably did.
Soon after, a shaft of silver light could be seen passing through a door up ahead. Gimli gasped and ran into the room despite Gandalf warning him not to.
When the rest of the company joined him, he was sobbing in front of a large marble sarcophagus, engraved in Cirth runes.
"Here lies Balin, son of Fundin, Lord of Moria." Gandalf muttered, translating. "He is dead then. It is as I feared." He finished heavily, removing his hat out of respect. Harry awkwardly grasped Gimli's shoulder, in an 'I'm there for you but due to being a man I have no great idea as to what would help' gesture.
Boromir and Aragorn were examining the chamber grimly, both quickly coming to the conclusion that if there was a fight; things would get up close and personal very quickly and it would have to be finished quickly.
"We must move on, we cannot linger." Legolas said quietly to Aragorn. Harry heard him and skewered him with a glare and a look at Gimli which said: we aren't moving till we have to, or until Gimli is done grieving.
Gandalf had found a chronicle, in the hands of a long deceased warrior clerk. The book was dusty, marred by a slash on its thick cover as if it had been used to futilely fend off an attack, and pages fell out when he picked it up, respectfully moving the skeletons hand away from it.
"They have taken the bridge, and the second hall. We have barred the gates, but cannot hold them for long. The ground shakes." The Hobbits were beginning to look nervous, and Pippin, who was holding Gandalf's hat and staff, begin to step backwards, nervously scanning the room.
"Drums, drums in the deep," Gandalf continued, looking up as he turned the page. "We cannot get out." Boromir began looking around the room again, wariness and fear filling the air at the last words of the scribe. "Shadow moves in the dark. We cannot get out." Gandalf looked at the last, scribbled line as if the scribe had been killed in midsentence, borne out by the dried bloodstains on the pages. "They are coming." Gandalf finished. As the tension ramped up, Pippin poked a precariously balanced skeleton which was hanging over a well. With agonising slowness, the head fell off, and fell into the deeps, banging and clattering all the way down. Then the rest of the body, armour and all, followed, then the chains attached to the bucket. The hobbits, Frodo in particular looked frightened and Pippin cringed, unable to meet Gandalf's eyes, while Harry winced at every crash. To everyone's relief, no response was forthcoming from the depths of the mines.
"Fool of a Took! Throw yourself in next time, and rid us of your stupidity!" Gandalf snapped with a mixture of relief and anger as he snatched his staff and hat. Then, there was a deep, quiet thump.
Gandalf turned horror and shock on his face, to look at the well. So did Pippin. Thumps and booms began to cascade through the mines, and goblin and orc screeches followed them.
"Frodo," Sam said, clearly remembering the tales of Sting, Frodo's sword. Like the tales, it was currently glowing blue, displayed when Frodo half drew, panic on his face.
"Orcs." Legolas said.
"And other assorted nasties and long leggity beasties." Harry said quietly, as if quoting something. Boromir made for the door, looking out, and narrowly avoiding being killed by two orc arrows. He grimaced and stepped back.
"Stay close to Gandalf!" Aragorn called, dropping his somewhat superfluous flaming torch while Gandalf stood in front of the Hobbits, protecting them. Boromir said with a wry grimace as he closed the door, "They have a cave troll."
The man began using spears and axes to block the door, and was joined by Legolas, Harry and Aragorn in short order.
"Colloportus." Harry said, moving up to tap the door, remembering the spell that Hermione had used all those years ago at the Department of Mysteries. The lock and the hinges appeared to weld, meaning the door would have to smashed down by brute force. With a cave troll however, brute force was not going to be in short supply. The door began to bang and strain from the pressure, Gandalf drawing his sword and dropping his hat, and shouting a battle cry. Aragorn and Legolas readied their bows, then fired through the gaps, killing the occasional Orc. Harry and Boromir stood close to one another, ready to stand back to back if necessary, Harry wielding his wand and his wickedly sharp elven long dagger, looking like some ridiculous parody of Gandalf. Save, that was, for the slasher smile that embraced his lips. Boromir stood steadfast and ready, sword in his hand and shield on his arm. The assembled Hobbits looked terrified, swords out.
"Let them come," Gimli snarled, getting onto the tomb of Balin and hefting his axe. "There is one dwarf in Moria who still draws breath!"
The door collapsed, and the Orc's charged through. Battle commenced, war cries from all sides. The melee was ferocious, until the number orcs began to thin out, and the cave troll entered, smashing what was left of the doors. Legolas hit with an arrow, then Gimli with a throwing axe, neither of which seemed to do more than annoy it. It swung its club with wanton abandon, not distinguishing friend from foe. It faced Sam, and tried to crush him to paste, but the doughty gardener rolled through its legs with a battlecry.
Legolas had reached a ledge, killing the Orcs that had also found their way up with a few strokes of his long knives. He scanned the battle, dodged the Troll's chain as it used it as a weapon, stamped on it, then run onto it's back and fired an arrow point black into its skull. The arrow shattered, and as the creature thrashed, Legolas made a judicious leap to the floor.
Sam had resorted to one of his frying pans, and was belting Orcs left right and centre with it.
"I think I'm getting the hang of this," he gasped, and threw himself back into the fray.
The Boromir-Harry combo was steadily mowing down Orcs. One of Harry's preferred tactics was to skewer one with the knife in his left hand, and the blast it away with a depulso or an impedimenta, using it to knock down the Orcs in front of him, which were easy prey for his dagger or a cutting curse. Boromir just preferred a more workman like approach: Cut, thrust, lunge, parry, bludgeon with shield. If he was feeling creative, he interspersed it with a boot to the chest. Harry suddenly hissed as a lucky blow caught him on his left arm, causing him to drop his dagger. Without missing a beat, Boromir dispatched any who sought to take advantage so Harry could catch his breath.
"You really need armour." He said conversationally, smashing a particularly large and ugly Orc over the head with the pommel of his sword.
"Probably do." Harry muttered, levitating his dagger and directing it to great effect with his wand. After cutting the throats of several orcs with it, he levitated it up between the eyes of the troll and began to distract the large and puzzled creature as it had been bearing down on the Merry, Pippin and Frodo.
"Just kill the damn thing!" Boromir roared.
"If you insist." Harry said, but the attempted stabbing went awry as the troll turned at the last moment, causing the razor sharp blade to put out one eye. On the positive side, it definitely hurt the troll, Harry thought, as he watched the half blind and enraged creature stumble around, bellowing in pain. On the negative side, he thought as the creatures single remaining eye settled on Frodo, glittering evilly, it just seems to have really pissed him off. And pointed him at Frodo. Shit.
The creature picked up a spear, and apparently in slow motion, stabbed Frodo, who promptly went white. Merry and Pippin screamed and leapt on its back, stabbing manically at the back of its head, while Aragorn struggled over to Frodo. Harry just felt cold. The quest had failed. And it was all his fault. He absently drew his long knife back to him, and said in a cold, carrying voice.
"Get clear." Merry and Pippin did, diving left and right.
Harry snarled a spell that sent a crackling loop of silver energy over the trolls head, and tightened it around its neck, then pulled, causing the surprised troll to lean forward.
"Legolas, now is your time!" Harry said.
Legolas jumped on its back and fired two arrows into the base of its skull.
Legolas and Boromir finished off the remaining Orcs, who seemed shocked that something had brought down their cave troll with such ease. Boromir smashed in the windpipe of the last with a vicious blow from the edge of his shield, and turned to Frodo as it died with a sickening gurgle.
Suddenly Frodo coughed and wheezed, clearly severely winded and with a possible broken rib, but otherwise intact.
"I'm all right, I'm not hurt," he said with some difficulty clutching the Ring through his shirt.
"You should be dead! That spear would have skewered a wild boar!" Aragorn said, bemused and wondering.
"I suspect there is more to this Hobbit than there meets the eye." Gandalf said knowingly, causing Frodo to open his shirt, revealing a glittering shirt of what could only be Mithril, confirmed by Gimli gasping 'Mithril'.
"I take it that was the coat of mail that Bilbo took from Smaug's horde?" Harry asked, glancing briefly at Legolas, who had shown a sudden interest in the coat.
Frodo just nodded, still a little rattled.
"You are full of surprises Master Baggins," Gimli said with a smile.
Then the shrieks and screeches began again, as Orc reinforcements began to come closer.
"Entropus!" Harry said, waving his wand. A thin, shimmering blueish coat of light covered the open doorway.
"Nasty variant of the shield charm, it dissolves anything that tries to come through. Unless there is something down here as strong as Gandalf, it should hold for a while, until the accumulated dust overwhelms the spell." Harry explained with a hint of satisfaction in his voice. For some reason Gandalf just looked tired, but smiled his thanks.
"Good work Harry. Now, to the bridge of Khazad Dum!" Gandalf said. The Fellowship took off like the metaphorical Bats out of Hell (Harry wondered about that phrase. Surely the heat and light would put them off. No wonder they wanted to get out), Aragorn protecting the Hobbits at the rear, while Harry pulled out in front, clutching his left arm, which was still bleeding steadily, putting the long years of running across moor, wood and fen to good use. Gandalf moved with a speed that belied his apparent age, and Legolas did it as he did every other physical activity, if the rumours that the maids in Mirkwood giggled over were true, that is to say, annoyingly and ridiculously perfectly. Harry just hoped, for his sake and all of Middle Earth's that Legolas never met Lavender. 'Won-Won' had been bad enough. 'Leggy' would be infinitely worse, and something any jury would probably accept as a fair cause for Justifiable Homicide.
Orc's swarmed out of the cracks and crevices even from the ceiling, joining with those that had followed the Fellowship, like oversized and grotesque cockroaches, down the jointed and rusty armour, surrounding them. The Fellowship, as before, moved into a defensive ring. The tableau was still. Orcs occasionally made disgusting noises, screeches and shrieks, but neither side moved. While Harry was making up his mind about which spell to use, an orange and fiery light and a dangerous presence appeared at the far end of the hall, a presence which Harry's magically enhanced sense of intuition classed as: fey, malevolent, extremely powerful. A deep basso roar echoed through the hall, causing Harry to add, very large, to his list, and the Orcs exchanged nervous glances, then began to split up with fearful shrieks, running to their cracks and crevices, back up to the ceiling, anything to escape the new player in the game.
Boromir slipped up behind Gandalf and whispered, "What new devilry is this?"
Harry stole a glance at Gandalf, who closed his eyes and suddenly looked very old and very tired, then said, weariness evident. "A Balrog. A demon of the ancient world." Harry's blood froze. Glorfindel had told him tales of the Balrogs, fallen maiar, demons of shadow and flame that were fearsome foes, and it was a great misfortune, though a good explanation for the dead dwarves, that one, a large one at that, was down here.
"Ai, Ai, a Balrog is come!" Legolas, wailed, clearly of a like mind with Harry, hyperventilating. Harry's senses were screaming, 'get out of there! Now is not the time to play the hero!'
Then he turned slowly and said, "This foe is beyond any of you, even Harry… RUN!" He bellowed the last part, taking off at an incredible rate down the hall, the Fellowship scrambling after him. Boromir was the first through the door, racing ahead and nearly paying for it with his life as he narrowly avoided falling to a painful and fiery death, dropping his now thoroughly superfluous torch. Legolas snaked out a hand and pulled the Gondorian back from the precipice.
Gandalf had leant against the wall, now looking all of his very many years. Aragorn and Harry went to his aid, but he shook his head.
"Aragorn, you must lead them on, the bridge is near. Harry, you must help him, he will need your wisdom," at Harry's raised eyebrows he continued, "and your power. And listen to me. You do have the power to defeat Saruman, and will find it soon enough. Help is always given in Arda to those who need it." Harry blinked, trying to remember where he had that before, or words to that effect, and Aragorn looked reluctant.
"Do as I say, swords are no more use here, nor are wands!" Gandalf shouted, pushing them both on. Ahead there was a gap in the descending steps, which Legolas leapt across with the barest of hesitation. Upon another roar from the pursuing Balrog and cracks appearing in the stonework and Legolas' entreaty for Gandalf to follow, the Grey Wizard did, followed by Harry, then Boromir who tucked Merry and Pippin under his arms, leaping as the stair they were standing on crumbled away. Orcs started firing arrows, from galleries and crevices, to which Aragorn and Legolas replied with arrows of their own, Harry providing a shield and an occasional reductor curse, or blast of force. Aragorn threw Sam across, Boromir catching the large Hobbit. He went to do the same to Gimli, but was faced with a blunt refusal.
"Nobody tosses a dwarf!" And with that Gimli let out a war cry and performed an impressive standing jump. He didn't quite make it, and was only saved by Legolas reflexively grabbing his prized beard.
"Not the beard!" Gimli bellowed, as Legolas pulled him away from a fiery death by said facial hair.
As Aragorn and Frodo were about to jump, the stairs began to break on their supports, leaving the two even more marooned. Then the Balrog roared again, causing rocks to fall from the roof, scything the section of stairs which Aragorn and Frodo were on away from the rest, which began to teeter.
"Hold on. Lean forward." Aragorn commanded, grabbing Frodo and leaning forward, jumping onto the more stable stairs when the forward falling steps collided with the solid ones.
"Come on," Legolas said, grabbing Aragorn. The Fellowship then decided collectively that discretion was the better part of valour, and sprinted for the bridge, Gandalf waving them on. He faced down the Balrog, which roared at him. He grimaced, then turned and ran, following the Fellowship over the Bridge of Khazad-dum. Thankfully, Harry thought manically as he ran, Balrogs are apparently not built for speed, hearing the loud, ponderous footsteps behind him. Once they were over, they turned and faced the monstrous being that had dogged their footsteps since after the chamber of Mazarbul and Balin's tomb. It was a creature apparently of living magma, with crusted, rocky skin, and fitted its description as 'a creature of shadow and flame' very well. And, Harry thought, it was fucking enormous. It never rained but it poured. Gandalf had turned in the middle of the bridge, and now snarled defiance at the monstrous being.
"You cannot pass!" he bellowed determinedly.
"Gandalf!" Frodo screamed, as the Balrog extended its wings, burning things composed of the same substance as the rest of Balrog, and set it's body aflame in an attempt to intimidate Gandalf.
Who apparently took little or no heed. "I am servant of the secret fire, wielder of the flame of Arnor. The Dark Fire will not avail you, flame of Udun!" Gandalf said defiantly, in an almost chant like rhythm, raising his staff, the crystal at the end of which glowed ever brighter, an azure blue shield forming around him. Not a moment too soon, as the Balrog brought down a massive flaming sword on the shield. The sword shattered into embers upon the shield, and the Balrog screeched at him in a sound not unlike a giant teakettle on the boil.
"Go back to the Shadow," Gandalf said, semi-contemptuously.
The Balrog, evidently no great conversationalist, took its first step onto the bridge with an earth shaking thump, and cracked a many tipped burning whip menacingly.
"I have had enough. You will not stand alone Gandalf!" Aragorn called, adding a battlecry as he made his way towards the bridge, "For Gondor!"
"For Hogwarts!" Harry added, joining him.
"Baruk Khazad!" Was Gimli's contribution.
"For Mirkwood!"
"For Gondor!" Added Legolas and Boromir, Boromir looking slightly annoyed that Aragorn had stolen his battle cry.
However, it appeared that Gandalf needed no help.
"YOU. SHALL NOT. PASS!" Gandalf roared, clapping his sword and staff together, bring them down on the surface of the bridge with a thunderous detonation of sound, and wave of power that sent Harry reeling.
Nothing apparently happened, and the Balrog gave a Malfoyesque snort of contempt and stepped forward. As it did, raising its whip, the stone crumbled beneath it. The beast roared, and fell into the darkness below, whip and all.
Gandalf turned away, having vanquished his foe, tired but satisfied, when the Balrog's whip snapped up from below, catching Gandalf by the ankle, causing him to collapse at the edge with a cry, dropping his staff and sword.
Frodo made to go forward, crying "Gandalf," like a grief-stricken child, but Boromir caught him around the chest, holding onto him through main strength.
Gandalf tried with pain evident on his face, tried to pull himself up, but only slipped back. His last words, his eyes full of sorrow, were: "Fly, you fools."
Then he slipped away, falling after the Balrog.
"Accio Gandalf!" Harry tried desperately,but whether it was due to the weight or the power of the two beings, his spell fizzled.
Frodo's screams of "No!" had to be heard to be believed, such was their volume and their grief, as Boromir hauled him out, calling for Aragorn, who looked shocked, and Harry who it didn't seem to sunk in yet. Aragorn quickly came to his senses, and dragged Harry out, dodging the following arrows.
Outside the eastern gate, once they were clear, the Fellowship grieved, each in his own way. Boromir had to restrain Gimli, a look of sadness on his face, as the enraged dwarf ranted and raved in a mix of Westron and Khuzdul, wanting to be let back in and avenge Gandalf and his people. Sam just sat down with his face in his hands and wept, while Pippin had collapsed, head in Merry's lap. Never again would he hear the words, "Fool of a took!" or any of Gandalf's good natured scolding's for pranks.
Legolas, ashen faced and stricken, just stood, while Aragorn cleaned his sword.
"Legolas, get them up." He said in a business like tone, temporarily crushing his grief.
At that moment, it hit Harry. He was never going to see Gandalf again. Gandalf, who had patiently taught him about the ways of magic and politics in Middle Earth. Gandalf, who had patiently fielded every question and helped research every potential means of getting back home. Gandalf, who had shared tales of his travels with Harry at Rivendell. Gandalf, who had laughed with him, talked with him. Gandalf, his friend, had fallen into death, like Albus Dumbledore, another old, kind mentor wizard who had died while he had been there, who had died while he stood helpless, who had fallen into the darkness of death. Helpless. Again.
"No. No." Harry said slowly, then continued, an invisible aura of magic gathering around him, aroused by the deepest and most powerful emotions of anger and sorrow, which tapped into the very core of his power, unleashing it.
"NO!" He screamed, the piercing, wailing cry of someone so young, who has lost so much and felt so much pain. Multi coloured lightning bolts of raw power lashed out as he screamed, smashing the stones and pounding the eastern gate of Moria to rubble, bringing stone after stone down off the mountain, blasting holes metres wide in the bedrock, blasting craters for hundreds of metres around. Then he subsided, the Fellowship looking in a mix of empathy and terror at the power unleashed. "No." he finished quietly.
It was Boromir who cautiously stepped up to him and then gathered him in a bear hug as Harry wept uncontrollably in his embrace.
"Give them a moment, for pity's sake!" he said angrily, as Aragorn indicated they should go, once it was certain that no more explosions were likely.
"By nightfall these hills will be swarming with Orcs! We must reach the woods of Lothlorien." Aragorn replied.
"He's right." Harry said wetly and with reddened eyes, extricating himself from Boromir's grip. "And I have made a terrible mess of your jerkin, I am so sorry," he added distractedly. "Scourgify," he said, cleaning the mess.
With reluctance, Boromir, Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli began to lift the Hobbits up.
"On your feet Sam," Aragorn said gently, lifting the hobbit up.
"Frodo?" He called. The Ringbearer had walked some distance away, and was still walking. "Frodo!" Aragorn barked. The hobbit turned, tears running from his blue eyes.
After crossing a very, very cold stream, they reached the edge of Lothlorien, full of grass and life that made the darkness upon lift slightly, a marked contrast to the bare stone that had surrounded them before.
The golden leafed Mallorn trees were shedding their leaves, but still they were beautiful.
"Long have I wished to see the woods of Lothlorien," Legolas said quietly, voice full of wonder. Even Harry, who had seen these woods many times in all seasons of the year, smiled slightly. Gimli was wandering around, hefting his axe suspiciously.
"Stay close young hobbits," he whispered ominously, "It is said that a great sorceress lives in these woods. An Elf Witch, of terrible power. All who look upon her fall under her spell…"
"That's one way of putting it," Harry whispered to Aragorn who cracked a slight smile. Frodo suddenly looked around, as if searching for a voice.
"We really should have warned him about her habit of doing that," Harry said, indicating the thoroughly frightened hobbit.
"…and are never seen again." Gimli finished. If Harry had been in a better mood, he would have rolled his eyes. Gimli didn't exactly have the best sense of timing in the world.
"Well. Here's one dwarf she won't ensnare so easily. I have the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox," he said, just before he narrowly avoided walking into an arrow point. Scratch that, Harry thought, wand and knife out, he has the worst sense of timing in anyone I've ever met. Including Ron.
"The dwarf breaths so loud, we could have shot him in the dark," Haldir the marchwarden of Lothlorien said silkily, reminding Harry of Lucius Malfoy.
"Doing your bit to improve Elf-Dwarf relations as ever, eh Haldir?" Harry sniped. "Put the bows down or you'll spend a month without hair. Again."
"Harry…" Aragorn said warningly, and was rewarded with a glare that could have melted steel.
He spoke in Sindarin, placating the ruffled dignity of the Marchwarden.
"Aragorn, these woods are perilous! We should go back." Gimli said, eyes darting at the arrows pointed at him.
"You have entered the realm of the Lady-" Haldir began before Harry irritably interrupted.
"Yes, yes, you can't turn back and all that bollocks." Harry said. Aragorn turned to him to remonstrate, but Harry ignored him, continuing. "And I would take it kindly if you acted fairly to my friend Gimli son of Gloin, who is also a friend to Aragorn son of Arathorn, Legolas Thranduilion, Boromir son of Denethor, Frodo son of Drogo, Meriadoc Brandybuck, Peregrin Took and Samwise Gamgee, all of whom are honourable, friendly to Lothlorien and can vouch for his friendship and steadfast loyalty. He has recently seen the corpses of quite a lot of his family and friends, something which has affected him deeply, and we have all lost another friend very recently, and if you don't stop harassing Gimli, don't put down those bows and let us through, then I swear on my power that a lack of hair will be the very least of your problems, do I make myself abundantly clear?" Harry finished in a venomously soft voice, eyes glittering with anger.
Haldir rocked back on his heels, shocked by this tirade. Aragorn also had his mouth open, Legolas' eyebrows were raised, Boromir was hiding a smirk, and Gimli said gruffly, "Thanks laddie."
"No problem Gimli. Now shall we move on before any further disputes arise? I think the Lady of the Golden Wood would have made it extremely clear by now if this company was not welcome." Harry said in a snarky tone, letting his wand fall to his side and sheathing his dagger.
Haldir snarled a few words in Sindarin as he turned to lead them on, waving the bows down. Legolas' jaw dropped and Aragorn put his face in his hands. Frodo, who had got the gist of it, winced. Harry, who had learnt a few words in Sindarin during his time Middle Earth, especially the ruder ones, now looked absolutely furious, and snapped his wand back up flicking it once. Haldir shot into the air, held up by his ankle.
Harry advanced menacingly on the Marchwarden, and said in a viciously soft tone of voice, "Apologise. Apologise for the aspersions you just cast on my ancestry and my mother's virtue. Or by Eru you will wish you didn't live to see another dawn." Aragorn looked horrified, as he watched the Marchwarden slowly turn purple. He should have known something like this would happen.
"Such words are a stain on your honour, Haldir of Lothlorien, and by extension, that of the Lady you serve. They are not befitting of a Marchwarden of your status." Harry said in a quiet and fair tone of voice that just concealed his temper. "In light of our previous friendship and the effects of these dark times, I am willing to forgive and forget, if you apologise. Now."
Haldir opened his mouth to protest, turning a shade of puce Uncle Vernon would have been proud of, then shut it, very aware that what he had said had been wrong and decidedly ill-advised. He nodded at his ankle once, and Harry let him down with a thump. He stood up and brushed himself down.
"I apologise." He said stiffly.
"For what?" Harry said, prompting. Haldir ground his teeth. He was a stubborn elf by nature, and hated being told he was wrong and admitting it.
"Harry…" Aragorn said, not wanting to escalate this further.
"For what?" Harry said again.
"For what I called your mother."
"And?"
"…the insults towards Gimli the dwarf."
"Thank you." Harry said, resisting the temptation to add a further caustic comment on the end with difficulty.
It is a long time since Haldir has been scolded like a child, came the warmly amused voice of the Lady Galadriel.
It was overdue then, anyway, now isn't the best time to talk. And you know I hate it when you do that. Harry replied peevishly, the laughter of Galadriel in his head, as he followed Haldir and the rest of his company, the former with his nose in the air and the latter in shock. Aragorn was praying fervently to Eru that he would be good for evermore if He could make sure no more violence would erupt between the prickly Marchwarden and pricklier dwarf and wizard.
"Was that really necessary Harry?" Aragorn said in a despairing voice. Knowing the elves would be listening in, and because he felt like it, Harry cast a muffliato.
"Yes. If my father or Godfather had heard that, Haldir would be subject to a number of vicious hexes and long and ruthless campaign of revenge. If my mother had heard that, Haldir would probably be missing something vital or hexed into oblivion. James, Sirius and Lily also did not brook insults to those they called friends." Harry said bluntly. "Haldir can thank the Valar that I both like him and understand the strain he is under."
Aragorn sighed. "Please, try not to cause any more arguments, and avoid them if possible."
"I'll try." Harry said, cancelling the spell, smirking at the elves who had blatantly been trying to eavesdrop.
Aragorn sighed. That was the best he would get. Mithrandir, if you can hear me, he thought, please send me a sign telling me how to deal with Harry in a bad mood. Preferably before someone tries to kill him for it, or before he tries to kill someone.
Rohan
Eomer punched the wall in frustration. His uncle was clearly beyond help, unless Gandalf or Harry turned up, something he thought unlikely, as he wrung his fingers. Gandalf had last been seen travelling to Isengard and hadn't been seen or heard of since, while Harry… he remembered the pain, confusion and fear in his friends eyes when the spell hit. If he was alive, he was unable to help. For the foreseeable future at the very least.
And now he was confined to his quarters, unless he was escorted by Wormtongue's shifty looking guards. The only chance he got to properly talk to Theodred was once in every three patrols when they rode together. Theodred was quiet, having withdrawn into himself, his father's decline and seeming betrayal having hit him hard.
Eowyn just looked defeated, cold and angry, like a caged eagle that wants to be free.
Rohan needed help, and fast, that he knew. Or it was doomed.
Btw, this isn't going to turn into a 'Haldir is perpetually a complete dick' fic. He's just a bit stuck up and distinctly on edge with the Ring War and will mellow eventually. Among other things, Dol Guldur is far too close for comfort.
Now, as reward for my labours, please click the not so little button down there. *Does puppy dog eyes* Please?