A/N: I own only Emrys, the plot and my version of Theodred. The rest belong to the genii that are J.R.R. Tolkien and J.K. Rowling. Some swearing involved.
lotr: Your concerns are valid, but as I have mentioned, while Harry is strong, if he gets stabbed he's as dead as anyone else. In a straight up fight, only Harry or Gandalf stand even a chance against the Witch King, and in Harry's case the Sword of Gryffindor is providing it's wielder with a serious power boost. That is also why I make a point of Harry being taken out of action part way through each battle. Sauron with the Ring would crush Harry with only a moment of effort, and even without the Ring he is a formidable opponent now that he has Harry's measure (Harry throwing Sauron out his mind only succeeded because Harry is one, used to mental magic, two, absurdly stubborn, three, quite powerful, four, he caught Sauron by surprise, five, the Palantir was physically ripped from his hands before Sauron could counter). And the lightning bolt thing was manipulating what was already there. He couldn't create a thunderstorm out of the blue.
As for why the Sword of Gryffindor is so powerful… let's just say that it wasn't really the goblins that made it, and they only finished it off with their own enchantments. They just hate telling people about it. And it is even older than the One Ring. Also, after this story, a lot of the supercharging will go away and Harry will have to relearn a fair bit about fighting with and without magic. And when the next evil rears its head, he won't have Gandalf to help him.
The mustering at Dunharrow was not the quickest of processes, as men were coming from all over the kingdom to answer their King's call. Many regions had sent none, but a force of 5,000 men and horses was present and ready for battle after just over a week of organisation.
Aragorn looked grimly down at the camped army, and said to Elladan and Elrohir, "It is not enough. Not to break the lines of Sauron's armies."
"It will have to be, dear foster brother." Elladan said sombrely. "Unless… you call on them that live in the mountain."
Aragorn's eyes narrowed. "Traitors. Oathbreakers, murderers! They answer to no one!"
"You need them, and you know it. Even Gandalf, the Black Wizard and all his friends cannot break the armies of Mordor alone. They would be an army like none this world has ever seen. And they will respond to the call of the King of Gondor! Now, Aragorn, is the time to take up that mantle. Put aside the Ranger, and become who you were born to be." Elrohir said sternly.
Aragorn looked away and said nothing. "Our sister made you a banner, imbued with love. The banner of a King, not a Ranger." Elladan pressed relentlessly.
"I don't mean to intrude, Aragorn, but they're right. People need a leader, they need hope. Harry inspired resistance against Voldemort, and people followed him into battle, because he gave them hope, not because of the young man he was, but what he became, a symbol. A Ranger can't do that, not at the head of an army. A King can." Ron said, looking down at the army arrayed below them.
Aragorn looked up and sighed. "I will take the mountain road. Tell Legolas, Gimli and Halbarad's men to pack. We go before the dawn. I must go and speak to Théoden." He looked expectantly at Ron, who obligingly took his arm and apparated him down to Théoden's tent.
Théoden looked up as Aragorn entered. He had been thinking about what the battle would bring. His death, probably. No matter, that was long overdue, and his family had long since grown into fine warriors and wise leaders. They would rule Rohan well, he knew it.
"Yes, Lord Aragorn?"
"I take the mountain road. We need reinforcements. Yes, we can beat Mordor with these numbers, but not without horrendous losses that leave us vulnerable to a second strike." Aragorn said abruptly.
Théoden nodded resignedly. "You realise they will almost certainly kill you?"
"They will answer to the King of Gondor. To me." Aragorn replied.
"Very well. Leave me at least one of the Wizards." Théoden said heavily.
"No, I leave you all three." When Théoden looked up, surprised, Aragorn explained.
"They are not always going to be here, and I cannot always be relying on magic to solve my problems. This is something I must do myself."
"Very well. Good luck, Lord Aragorn."
Next Aragorn went to find Sirius, Ron and Hermione. When he tracked them down, having a good drink and eating a spit roasted hare, he said, "My friends, I take the mountain road."
Hermione's eyes widened, while Sirius and Ron looked puzzled. "There are spirits in the mountain who swore an oath to Isildur, an old Gondorian King, then broke it, and so they remain as spirits under the mountain." Hermione said, then asked, "You're going to offer release from their oath in return for service in this battle, aren't you?"
Aragorn bowed his head in acknowledgement. "You are most well read, Hermione, and you are a lucky man, Ron, to have such a clever wife."
"And don't I know it." Ron said with a grin, kissing his wife on the cheek, then frowned, "But how can you offer release from an oath to an old Gondorian King? I was told the line had died out."
"Not quite. I am Isildur's only surviving heir." Aragorn said.
Everyone's jaw dropped. I could get used to this, Aragorn thought with a half-smile, if I survive the ghosts of the mountain, that is.
Sirius immediately stood. "I'm coming with you."
"So are we. Harry wouldn't thank us if we let one of his friends face the supernatural alone." Hermione said firmly, Ron nodding his agreement.
Aragorn motioned them to be calm and replied, "Ever since I have been a small child, I have had beings more powerful than I protecting me or advising me. I do not object to the advice, but I am no longer a child to be protected. The fate of these spirits is tied up with my bloodline and it is my responsibility to face them myself, without any magical aid, for better or worse."
"But-" Ron said stubbornly, before Sirius cut him off.
"He's right Ron. If he's going to establish himself as a worthy King, there are some things he must do to prove himself. Harry may not thank us for it, but we have to let him go." Sirius said in a voice that brooked no dissent. Ron grumbled about all the self-sacrificing mad men he was doomed to be friends with, but accepted it grumpily.
"And you're going to have to tell Eowyn that you are interested in someone else, something you should have done some time ago. Now." Sirius directed this at Aragorn in the same tone, who blinked and then nodded.
"I am already packed, and we set out soon. I will speak to her if she's awake."
"She is. I saw her berate her brother for sniggering Merry's ambitions to fight five minutes ago." Hermione supplied
As Aragorn wandered off, Ron said, "Have you ever noticed that all the really weird stuff happens to us? Or more accurately, Harry? I mean, we help him stop a Dark Lord after a series of really odd school years, even by Hogwarts standards, each weirder than the last, and then he wanders into another world with another Dark Lord complete with minions that Voldemort would drool at, lands right in front of the heir to the most powerful Kingdom in that world on arrival, gets known among the mighty and the low as some sort of… like that muggle comic character with a cape. Something to do with bats. Anyway, then we get dragged into it and Sirius is giving said heir to said throne relationship advice on the eve of a battle which will decide the fate of this world."
"Harry's less Batman, more Spiderman. Depends on his mood really." Sirius drawled.
"At least he isn't the Sentry," Hermione said, shuddering. Comics were a perfectly valid form of literature, she had argued when caught reading them, to general scepticism.
"Eh?" Ron and Sirius said in concert.
"Better that you don't know." Hermione said, brushing it aside. "But you're right, Ron. Harry is a walking weirdness magnet."
"At least we'll never be bored." Sirius said optimistically.
"Harry's standards of boredom seem to be that unless someone is trying to kill him or he's causing chaos, he gets bored. And when he's around Ginny." Ron said dryly.
"Yes, those two really get on like a house on fire." Hermione noted.
"Chaos, screams, people running for their lives, uncontrollable flames and major property damage? Yeah, that sounds about right." Sirius quipped.
Aragorn, the 30 Dunedain, Legolas and Gimli rode away in the early hours of the morning, when it was still dark. Eowyn had pleaded with Aragorn not to go, that he would die needlessly, told him she loved him, but he had been unmoved.
"You love but a shadow." He said, as he turned to go.
And as he, Legolas, Gimli and the Dunedain left in the darkness, she wept. Then she dried her tears and went to look for her sword. The man she loved may have placed himself out of her reach, but the same could not be said of her ambitions to be a warrior. If she could not live with love, she could at least die with honour, not waiting for the agonising news of who had lived and who had died. And she knew someone else who would almost certainly join her. Under the guise of Dernhelm, she sought out Merry, who had been banned from going due to the fact that he was too small to keep up and too heavy to burden an ordinary rider. Eowyn, being a strong but slender woman, had no such problems.
Gondor
The battle had been joined, for over an hour. The massed armies of Sauron had launched the heads of some of the Osgiliath garrison over, until Harry had made their catapults explode. The Nazgul swept in from the skies, seeking to crush the defensive artillery of Minas Tirith, but Harry had taken to the skies and managed to harry them , reducing their chilling mental effect on the defenders and their physical one on the defences. Ginny had been sent to hold the entropy shield that slowed down the attackers advance, covered by 4 of the Elite Guard. Boromir watched from the wall, occasionally sending Pippin to relay orders to commanders.
'Come on, Théoden, where are you?', he thought with anguish, but kept his face calm and demeanour relaxed but alert, showing no other emotion. Meanwhile, the riders of Rohan were being guided through a forest shortcut by the wildmen of those lands, formerly hunted like beasts, now valuable allies.
Denethor was strapping on his armour. He may have been old and superfluous, but he wasn't going out without a fight.
The Witch King examined the defence below. It relied on a weak shield of the same origin as the Black Wizard, but more importantly on the morale of its troops. Even with the Black Wizard harrying his fellow Nazgul, morale was a fragile thing. With that he picked his target, a young man with dark hair that held a reddish tinge who led from the front, rallying his men. With a triumphant shriek, he launched a dart at the young man who promptly collapsed. He then forced his beast to land and moved to the front of his army. He would enjoy breaking this futile resistance personally.
Ginny
Ginny struggled to hold the entropy shield against the Witch King's assault, but her defiance lasted all of 20 seconds as the raw, dark power of Angmar shattered the shield. As the backlash shattered the gates and sent her flying backwards, the Witch King stepped through the gates personally, followed by three heavily armoured trolls. Gandalf was occupied rallying resistance against the trolls and the horde that came rushing through the busted gates, leaving Ginny dazed and helpless, her wand out of reach. The Witch King stepped forward, and hissed, "Young Witch. You are unworthy of the power you possess, and a fool to try and face me." He raised his sword for the deathblow, putting his foot on her stomach, reversing his grip on the hilt, driving it down with horrendous force towards her chest as she was helpless to move. Then there was a flash of silver flame and a very familiar sword snapped out, diverting the massive broadsword onto the cobbles where the sheer force of the blow lodged it in place, then a fast moving body slammed shoulder first into Witch King, sending him stumbling back.
Ginny looked up, expecting to see Harry standing over her and got the shock of her life.
"Stay away from my son's friends, you son of a bitch," said the cold voice of Denethor, Steward of Gondor, the silver fire of the Sword of Gryffindor outlining him in a silver aura, making the black of his armour darker in comparison and the tree and the stars shine all the brighter. It was easy to see where Boromir and Faramir got their courage from.
"Old man, you cannot hope to defeat me, even with a blade of the elder world in your hand." The Witch King hissed, wrenching his sword from the cobbles with the same effort an adult would use to tear the legs off a roasted chicken.
"Let's test that, shall we?" Denethor said with a smile that would have sent most foes running whilst screaming in terror, and whirled the blade in a swift rondello before attacking in silver torrent of magical steel, striking sparks on the black blade of the wraith's sword with each blow that was parried, often leaving marks on the creatures armour. But the Witch King had unnatural strength and over a millennium of experience with the sword, and once he was over the initial surprise, countered, forcing the old steward back. Ginny scrambled for her wand, catching the wraith off guard with an impedimenta, then shielding Denethor when he stumbled. As Gandalf turned to the Witch King, glowing with power, a horn, clear and powerful, sounded in the distance. The Witch King turned, and Denethor took the opportunity to run him through with a lunge. This would have killed any other opponent, and put a serious dampener on the day of any of the other Nazgul, but the Witch King merely batted him away with a backhanded blow, withdrew the Sword of Gryffindor from his chest, dropping it and strode out the gates, remounting his Fell Beast, making for the horn call.
Gandalf hurried over to Ginny, who waved him on. "I'm fine, the Steward isn't."
Gandalf went to Denethor, checking him. "He's alive, though that blow will have rattled him. I'm surprised he's still alive, frankly. The man has the constitution of an ox! Can you take him up?"
Ginny blinked, swayed suddenly and shook her head emphatically. Gandalf beckoned over two soldiers and barked, "Get him to the healing rooms! Quickly now!"
10 minutes before
Harry had just turned around to strafe the Nazgul again, when he noticed the sword of Gryffindor had gone from his hand. Swearing, he drew his trusty long dagger and scanned the battlefield. He hadn't dropped it, which meant it must have been called to someone else worthy and in need. He shrugged and dived at one of the Fell Beast's, taking advantage of its momentum and hammering it into the side of the city with blasting curse. As the creature bellowed and sought to disentangle itself from the rubble, Harry fired a series of curses that the beast's rider blocked. Again. Harry swore, and flew up high, looking over the battlefield. As he dived to re-engage, he heard a massive shattering crash from below. He looked down a minute later and saw a prone and heart stopping familiar red haired form with a dark one that could only be the Witch King about to run her through. He was about to dive with a scream of fury when a tall, grey haired figure engaged the ancient wraith, snarling something, deflecting the downward thrust with the sword of Gryffindor which glowed with a silver fire. Harry's jaw then dropped. Denethor? He watched as the old Steward matched the Witch King cut for cut, blow for blow until he was eventually driven back, by which time Ginny had a shield ready to cover him. Gandalf had disengaged from the trolls and was coming to intervene. Then a powerful horn sounded, and Harry looked over the battlefield. In the West, shining in the rays of sun was Rohan, arrayed in glory to save its steadfast ally. The Nine turned to face this new foe, screeching.
Harry let out an exultant whoop, and enhanced his voice, "SOLDIERS OF GONDOR! HELP IS AT HAND! ROHAN IS HERE! NOW GO, GO AND SCOUR THESE MONSTERS FROM YOUR LANDS!"
A resounding cheer went up as Harry punctuated his rallying cry with a fast strafing run over the army of Mordor, trailing flame as he did, taking out catapults and siege towers with ferociousreductor curses. He felt the Sword of Gryffindor rematerialize in his hand and flew low along the ground, stabbing slicing and cursing the army of Mordor as the Rohirric charge hit with a shuddering impact, slicing through the terrified mass of Orc's like a razor. He looped over to fly leisurely beside Sirius, who was concentrating on staying on horseback.
"Took you long enough, old man. Why don't you get on the floor and fight? At least that way you won't spend half your time trying to keep your balance." Harry said conversationally, stunning an Orc.
"Nice idea Harry, but I have no idea how to get off this sodding thing without falling off." Sirius said testily. In answer, Harry merely levitated him off the horse and landed beside him, putting away his broom.
Sirius looked around him. "What next, oh great general?" He asked sarcastically. They were surrounded by Orc's. "I would suggest apparating or flying out."
"CHARGE! LAST ONE TO MINAS TIRITH IS A SISSY!" Harry yelled, ignoring Sirius and charging at the Orc's with a raised sword and piercing war whoop.
"Of course, this idea is more fun." Sirius noted as he ran behind Harry, cutting his way through any that opposed him, throwing in a spells such as the entrail expelling curse, which turned out to be very effective as a psychological weapon. After the first three dozen Orc's were violently killed, he shifted into Padfoot. The Orc's soon began to run from the Black Wizard and his dog of war, though not before one blow scored a shallow but painful cut down Harry's leg. Harry collapsed, swearing, and only a massive and instinctive blast of light that sent Orc's scrambling away with almost pitiable screams of agony, saved him from immediate dismemberment.
Sirius cocked his head and whined inquiringly. "I'll be fine lassie. Go rescue some children from a well or something." Harry said reassuringly, patching up the wound and testing his leg. A little uncomfortable, but it would hold.
Sirius gave him a look that would have been accompanied by a raised middle finger if he had been human, and shifted back, giving Harry a two fingered salute. Harry merely rolled his eyes, grabbed Sirius' shoulder and apparated back to walls, then down to where Ginny was fighting.
"I'm off to cover the gate. You two should do well enough here without my considerable skills."
"We should just about muddle through. Go on, I'll catch you later," Harry said as he looked around the battlefield. The Fields of Pelennor were more akin to a lake of blood and destruction than the peaceful plain it had once been. He sighed. Such was the price of war. He remembered visiting Minas Tirith once with Theodred and Eomer, and he had laughed himself sick as he watched the two be set upon by the young female nobility of Gondor.
Faramir had suggested they dance on the plain complete with musicians, an old Gondorian custom apparently, and Harry had been roped in before he could make good his escape. He had danced with a pretty brunette called Morwen, who gratifyingly hadn't minded in the least when he had gently told her he had his own sweetheart who he was waiting to see, as beautiful and kind as she was.
She had smiled kindly, patted his arm, and then insisted he dance again, and 'enjoy it for its own sake'. He had deeply enjoyed that afternoon, despite the inevitable teasing from Eomer and Theodred, and harboured a desire to dance with Ginny on the plain, in the high summer among the soft grasses. He looked around at the shadowed plain, the dark skies and listened to the screams of the injured and shrugged. Meh, close enough.
He turned to Ginny, clipping his wand to the sword of Gryffindor. She looked at him curiously, then did the same as he nodded to her. Then he took a deep breath and said with an impish grin and mock formality, "Miss Weasley, would you do me the honour of letting me have this dance?"
She cocked her head and looked at him for a moment, before grinning a wicked grin that George, and indeed Fred, would have been deeply proud of, and said with a hint of a challenge, "Why of course Mr Potter. If you think your dancing skills are up to scratch?"
"Why, Miss Weasley-" Harry paused to eviscerate an orc and stun other, with a firm 'no cutting in' to the eviscerated and gurgling orc. He continued, "- you haven't seen anything yet!"
The two linked arms and dived into the thick of the fight, interspersing conventional, if unnervingly coordinated, cuts and lunges with spell work.
"What is it-" cut, parry, lunge, "-with your obsession with fire?" Stun, decapitate, spin, "Do you know no other spells of use?"
"You malign me Ginny. While orcs and other creatures of darkness are infinitely flammable-" whirl, dodge, lunge and kick, "- and fire indicates passion, of which I have a lot, especially when you are involved-" parry, hamstring, freezing hex, smash with blasting curse, "- I can cool things down if you like."
Ginny snorted in response, skewering her opponent, and said, "Such a dry wit Harry! Whenever did you develop it?" then she muttered an enchantment. At first nothing happened, and then all the orcs and wargs within a hundred yard radius, collapsed with unpleasant crackling noises, rendered into nothing more than dried husks as all the water was sucked from them. As the forces of light watched open-mouthed, Ginny frowned in concentration, sweat forming on her brow, scattered the resulting water into large, spear shaped droplets, and muttered another spell, looking noticeably strained as she did, freezing the water and sending the ice spears with deadly accuracy into the chests of any nearby orc to catch her notice. She saved one last big spear for a particularly troublesome troll, which was promptly skewered through the brain.
Harry looked stunned, thoughtlessly disarming and beheading an orc that looked to take advantage of the distraction, and then laughed joyously. "Oh Ginny, you are dangerous! And I like that." And with daring he would probably not have shown off the battlefield, he leaned in and kissed her furiously. After a moment of shock, Ginny responded equally passionately, and only broke the kiss to send a reductor curse at a snarling warg, which collapsed, headless.
"Well Harry, since you seem to find trouble so often, it is no surprise you're drawn to danger." She drawled, smiling, still a little tired.
"As I've said before, I don't find trouble-" And then, determined not to be outdone, fired what appeared to be a beam of golden light that cut through anything it touched like butter, cutting down dozens of Sauron's army. "-it finds me." He finished, then added, "and this time, I'm very glad it did," he said, leaning down and kissing her, more gently this time.
She raised an eyebrow, eyes sparkling with laughter and said wryly, "You really know how to charm a girl Harry. What better place for a date?"
"Granted it lacks the privacy I'd like," Harry said smoothly, as he dispatched an orc, "but a battle really tells you a lot about a person."
"Yes, it tells me you're completely mad." Ginny replied, smiling.
"And don't you love it."
"So I do, God help me."
"They call him Eru over here."
"Whatever."
"So, drinks after the battle?"
"I don't think now is the best time!"
"If not now, when?"
"Good point. You're paying."
"Sounds like fun."
Before Ginny could reply, something interrupted their merry banter. The Witch-King, seeing the sheer devastation being wrought by the lovely couple, and discounting Ron and Hermione as a secondary concern, Ron doing the majority of killing while Hermione covered his back and attacked with a variety of inventive, but not particularly effective over a wide area, curses, as they stuck by the Dunedain, protecting Halbarad and Aragorn's standard.
He turned his steed and made it fly in a circle, before loosing one of the infamous poisoned darts of the Nazgul. The dart flew straight and true, landing just above her heart with a thump. As she staggered, and Harry caught her, having gone white as a sheet, the Witch King let out a mocking screech, and turned his steed away, looking for a new target.
Harry's heart was hammering as he frantically checked her vital signs. She was alive, but barely. He looked up at the Witch King who flew away, triumphant. To Harry's eyes, the outlook was bleak first the Rohirrim had been neutralised by the arrival of the Haradrim Oliphants, and now the main threat to the dark forces around the wall was broken, and he could see the black ships of the Corsairs sailing to deliver the death blow to the Free Peoples.
Emrys
Emrys looked up, his vision blurred. He remembered taking part in the charge, hearing Harry's rallying cry to the defenders, seeing Harry drop in alongside Sirius and then peel off. After that all he remembered was being hit very hard in the body with something. He looked across to his horse, and saw the crushed ruin of its body, ribs sticking out in a grisly pale glory, entrails flowing in disquieting colours and blood soaking the earth. Yet the animals legs still kicked weakly and it neighed softly, in a macabre parody of life. Emrys crawled across to the agonised creature, and on his second try, drew his sword, stroking the horse to reassure it, then cutting a fast mercy stroke across the unfortunate equines throat. Tears threatened to fall from his eyes. He had killed before, but always Orc's, never one who trusted him, even as a mercy. He cuffed at his eyes and cast around for Theodred. Not far away, he saw Theodred collapsed and bloodied on the ground, not moving, which was presumably the only reason he still lived.
After a couple of false starts, he stood, and walked over to Theodred, stride getting more steady with each step. Theodred was severely injured, but not in any immediate danger. Unless, that is, Emrys thought grimly as he looked up, you count a large troll that was coming straight for them with a mean and decided untrollishly intelligent gleam in its eyes. Wonderful, Emrys thought. The one troll I run across, and it has to be a smart one. He drew Theodred's sword, reckoning his master wouldn't need it, hefting it in his left hand. He remembered Harry telling him of the two blades style of fighting, and warning that without magic it sacrificed the defensive solidity of a shield. Not, he rationalized, like a shield would do all that much good against a troll's mace. He just needed to keep the fight away from Theodred. He sighed. Time to earn that title. Again.
Emrys, like many others with a sobriquet such as 'The Valiant', took the traditional Gryffindor approach to distraction. That is to say, crude insults yelled at the top of one's voice. Sun Tzu would have been proud.
"Oi! Big, ugly and brainless! Down here Warg fucker!"
Oh look, a moderately sized button! Would you awfully mind clicking it?