Disclaimer: I do not own the works of Tolkien or the works of J.K. Rowling. I am merely borrowing them for this story.
Summary: A Harry Potter/Lord of the Rings crossover that's a bit different to the norm.
AUTHORS NOTE: The first order of business is to announce that I am looking for a BETA reader to aide me in this undertaking. If you are interested send me a PM and we will discuss the matter.
Those of you familiar with the works of Tolkien beyond the Lord of the Rings and the Hobbit will now no doubt recognize that the story I am attempting to tell is that of Scatha and Fram, the Long Worm and the ancestor of the Kings of Rohan, and that it is set about 1,000 years before the events of the Lord of the Rings. For those not aware of what Tolkien himself wrote of that story I shall expand on that at the end of the story arc.
I have taken a risk with this story. It is still Middle-Earth, it is still canonical Tolkien legendarium but it is not a famous Tolkien story and there will be few recognizable Tolkien characters involved. For those people looking for interaction between Harry and the likes of Aragorn, Frodo, Bilbo and the Fellowship this will not be for them because it'll be a long time before I get to the War of the Ring, if I get there at all.
I put off mentioning this until I introduced the Long Worm because I was worried that if people knew that I didn't plan to use any very famous Tolkien characters in a major role in this particular story arc they wouldn't even spare it a second glance.
I hope that now this information is clear that doesn't put anyone off reading future chapters.
Additionally, I have made minor edits to past chapters, none of which changed the overall story. I have, however, readdressed my draft and made some changes for the story from this chapter forward as I believe they will improve it. The Authors Notes remained unaltered.
~ Chapter Six ~
The darkness that filled the caverns of the Grey Mountains echoed with a horrendous din. The great dragon Scatha, the Worm of Dread, was crying out in pain and fury, cursing and swearing revenge.
"Northman!" He roared, shaking the mountain to its foundations. "You shall not escape my wrath! I shall find you and have my vengeance!"
The dragon's tail swished and with a mighty crack struck the cavern wall. The rocks cracked and fragmented before it. The tunnels which once lead to the outside world remained closed, blocked by rocks which had tumbled down in the last battle. Scatha would have cleared them easily yet he was blinded by his fury and the pain of his wounds and did not.
He roared once more and struck the cavern wall again. Recoiling after the hit he lashed out immediately and repeated the action. Again and again and again, in blind rage did Scatha strike the cavern wall, crying out with every blow as the wall was smote before his fury, tumbling into debris before him.
At last, after what seemed like an age, the dragon stopped and retreated to his gold. Piling it up into a bed he lay down and rested his head. A scowl on his enormous face, he turned his head to one side, then the other, and took a deep breath through its large nostrils before curling it towards a wall.
"Speak quickly. You will receive no curtsey in my halls this day." He said suddenly "What brings you to my lair Goblin?"
From down the winding stair came the Boldog, escorted by his mighty guard, fifteen goblins, armed and armoured, six others carrying him on his chair.
"I seek two rats, Lord Scatha." The Boldog answered. "They fled my home and I seek to capture them ere they escape these halls. Their trail led me here."
"You are late then, Goblin, for they have already fled." Scatha answered with a seeming lack of interest.
Silence followed.
The Boldog rested his elbow on the arm of his chair and cupped his chin in his hand, then sat in thought. At last he spoke. "How is it, O great and powerful Dread-Worm; that these filth managed to evade your grasp?"
Scatha half turned his head and gazed toward the Goblin with a half-lidded eye. "Evade my grasp?" He said, sounding insulted at the accusation. "They have not escaped me. It is merely a…reprieve. I know their scent, I know their skills, and I know their dwelling. They may think they have escaped but, in time, they shall understand their folly"
"Yet even so," The Boldog replied, "You have been unable to prevent their flight. Have you fallen so far to idleness that you cannot detain farmers?"
"You forget yourself Goblin!" Scatha growled lowly. "You live in these halls by my leave and my leave alone. I am master here, not you, and you would do well to remember that."
The Boldog bit his tongue and bowed his head. "As you say Lord…"
Scatha appraised the Goblin through his half-lidded eye before snorting and leaning his head to one side. "There is, however, truth in your words. In my idleness I became complacent and underestimated the Northman but I know now what danger he poses to me. I shall not make the same mistake twice."
The dragon raised himself and turned his gaze upwards, where light streamed in as it passed through an ancient tunnel that had once been a skylight to the great chamber.
"The Northman has wounded me." Scatha said at length. "And this shall take time to heal. But my vengeance will come and it will be swift. The Northmen shall pay! Their people, their realm shall make a fitting tribute for the loss of my eye."
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"That old fool!" The Boldog grumbled as he was carried back into the darkness. "He believes himself invincible! He believes himself infallible! Ha! Wounded by Northman filth and he thinks he can dictate to me!"
The sound of the stomping feet of his entourage, the clattering or arms and armour echoed as they climbed the winding stair.
"Too long has that lizard reigned. He is old and arrogant. Soon, he will fall and in his place I shall rise and make this land a realm so great, so dark, that it will rival Angmar itself! All shall fear me and none shall oppose me!"
The Boldog sat back in his chair, grasped some unmentionable piece of meat and took a large bite out of it. Chewing it violently, grinding the bones within it to meal before swallowing it. Then he rested his head on his hand once more.
"Still, wounded though he is, the Worm is a foe beyond me, and ere he falls it is true that I remain here only by his whim." He sniffed dismissively, paused to spit out some bone that was stuck in his teeth, and then sat in contemplation. "Perhaps…this Northman was the one the black rider warned of…no matter. I shall let this situation resolve itself. The dragon will chase after the Northman in time and in the meanwhile I shall muster my people. The time of my ascension is at hand."
Little did the Boldog know that deep down in the great hall the Dread-Worm lay tending to his wounds and listening to the voices that whispered in the darkness. He heard the Boldog's words and spared a wicked grin before laying his head down to rest.
"I know your treachery well Goblin." He said to himself. "Be thankful that there are more pressing matters on my mind but worry not, I have not forgotten you."
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The pale autumn sun glared across the landscape and shimmered as it bounced off the freshly fallen snow and newly settled ice. The chill wind blew rough across the glens and through the valleys, over the hills and down the streams. Trees in isolated clumps scattered across the countryside swayed and whispered in the breeze while the Greylin River thundered southward to join the Langwell where the Great River formed.
It was a cold day, a silent day, where few birds flew and few beasts walked abroad. It was a silence shattered only by the sound of hoof beats.
A company of 20 riders, mounted on stout horses, cantered across the land. They were armed with swords and spears and shields, they wore helmets adorned with the image of horses. The banner they flew was a white horse on a green background with two silver streaks joined in a "V" shape at the bottom. It fluttered in the breeze.
The riders followed the course of the river upstream. There, in the distance, smoke rose to the sky and dispersed in the crosswinds high above. Approaching the scene the carnage revealed itself.
Carts were strewn about the roadside, broken and shattered, with many personal belongings scattered around the area. The rubble of houses piled on the side of the road, blackened by fire. Bodies of the slain littered the streets.
The riders stopped by the building that used to be the inn, now only a burnt out husk, a shell. There they dismounted and surveyed the destruction of the small settlement.
"The reports were true." Spoke one man eventually. "There can be no more doubt."
"So it would seem" answered another. "But what could have caused this? There has been no word of any invasion, of any attack recently."
"It is not unusual for news of attacks on our borders to be slow in coming. Our people are spread about the land and rarely have we had need to muster together. There may be more settlements like this one." The leader spoke. He was clearly the leader for his armour was of a more elaborate design, his helmet was adorned with gold and his horse was the largest and strongest of those present. "We live in constant danger, surrounded on all sides by lands infested with the foulest of creatures, yet I fear too many of us have fallen complacent."
The men around murmured in agreement.
"Which of our enemies has caused this is unclear," the leader continued. "Though the fire has destroyed much there will still be some sign remaining which will tell us what has been the cause of this." He removed his helmet to reveal a head of golden hair, long and braided and a bearded face, though well groomed. He issued orders to his men to spread out and search the ruins of the settlement for any trace of the culprits of the attack. The men did as ordered, leaving the golden headed leader alone with one man. This man was tall and dark haired, relatively young and strongly built.
"Let us hope it is not the Long Worm who has stirred." Spoke the dark-haired man as he poked about in the rubble. "I doubt any of us ready to face that threat."
The leader spared him a quick glance "Doubt as you wish Baldor, but should the Worm come from his hole he would not find us unready."
"Yet our people are so spread out. Should the Worm come swiftly we would surely suffer great losses. We cannot concentrate our peoples with speed great enough to prevent this." Baldor answered.
"We are not so defenceless as you might think." The leader responded. "With this attack my father can no longer resist me. I shall have my way and we shall muster our strength and rid ourselves of all enemies."
"I doubt that Lord Frumgar will be quite as open to your plans as you believe. He is not the man he once was, his mind has slowed and his arm weakened, and he appears content to keep things unchanged." Baldor said. "I know you well Fram, and do not doubt your intentions, but Frumgar is chief and as long as he lives we owe him fealty."
"He will have no choice!" Fram said vehemently. "Times are changing and he refuses to change with them. If he will not take the action needed to protect our lands and our people then I will!"
Baldor appraised Fram with a thoughtful look. "Perhaps," he began, "but Frumgar still commands the loyalty of the Eotheod, his power and influence amongst the people is still strong. You cannot challenge that."
Fram scoffed. "I can challenge it and I will." He said dismissively. "The people may not thank me for it but one day they will realize that it was for the best."
"Forcing change will not be well received." Baldor warned.
"Do you not see?!" Fram exclaimed as he spread his arms and gestured to the destroyed settlement. "My friend, this is the very chance I have been waiting these last ten winters for. When the people know of this attack they will cry out for change. I will not have to force them to do anything. My father will either have to take action or step aside."
"And what if he takes action but not the one you wish?" Baldor spoke.
Fram paused for thought before eventually answering "That will be of no consequence. Father is old and frail; his is unable to command our host in his dotage. The need to protect our lands is pressing and becoming greater with every passing day. No matter what course father chooses to take the Eotheod will muster to battle and I shall command them"
"Then, for all our sakes, I pray your plans work out as you wish." Baldor turned from Fram and began to tend to his horse's saddle. He raised his gaze and saw another rider approaching. "I believe Adhelm is approaching."
"Adhelm!" Fram greeted the rider cheerfully. "Your search has been successful I trust?"
"Yes, My Lord" Adhelm nodded in acknowledgement. "There is a building, well a little more than rubble actually, nearby where, it appears, a great struggle has occurred."
Fram leaned forward in anticipation "Explain"
"The building is not burnt as the others but has been broken, smote as if a tree had fallen upon it. All around the ground is darkened by the blood spilt in battle, the body of a warrior lays headless in the doorway and, there are Goblins, ten or more, surrounding him, slain by his pick."
"Goblins!" Fram exclaimed, then laughed. "Goblins! It will be a merry hunt indeed! Is the trail still fresh?"
"I do not believe so. It appears to be a few days old" Adhelm replied in a somewhat abashed manner. He, like the rest of the riders, knew of Fram's ambitions and also knew there was nothing Fram enjoyed more than a good hunt, so he was afraid, in some measure, of disappointing his commander. To his surprise Fram laughed again.
"Then it is still fresh enough to follow!" Fram said, exited. He donned his helmet once more and swung himself onto his horse before turning to address Baldor. "Summon the riders! We have Goblins to catch.!"
Fram rode off to view the scene himself leaving the two men in his wake, Baldor calmly adjusting his saddle as Adhelm stood in some shock at Fram's reaction.
Baldor patted Adhelm's shoulder. "Do not try to understand him. He's already caught up in the game."
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The clear, cold night under the silvery light of the moon that had so warmed Harry's heart as he emerged from the dark caverns of the mountains had quickly grown tiresome. The cold air was almost unbearable in the rags he currently wore, with the breeze pushing it into all the unwelcome areas that any sane man would never enjoy.
To make matters all the more wearisome the hours had dragged by in an anxious, exhausting crawl as he carried his wounded companion across the steep hilly countryside, too tired and hungry to contemplate using any significant magic and too worried about being chased by Goblins or Trolls or that Dragon to stop for rest.
When the sun had first crept over the horizon he had welcomed it, hoping to be warmed by its rays but as it climb higher into the sky it proved unable of providing the warmth he was hoping for. The mist across the landscape gave the sun a hazy quality and the cold wind could not be cancelled out by such weak light.
Eventually he could walk no more and took shelter in a gully surrounded by trees and bushes, where he hoped to find cover from any pursuers and a safe place to rest.
After laying his companion out amongst the ferns he stretched and yawned before heading back to the river. He planned to drink out of it and take some back to Brego to, at least, wash his wounds if not provide him with sustenance, but one look at the blackened water confirmed that doing so would not be wise. Instead he made do with a quick transfiguration of a nearby rock into a bowl and an augmenti to provide a small amount of water for his needs.
Returning to Brego's side, and after slating his thirst and tending to his companions wounds, he sat down with an exhausted huff.
"Ok Harry." He said at length, "time to assess your situation." He leaned back and stared up into the misty sky. "You have no idea where the bloody hell you are except its in some backwards part of the world where Goblins and people are still killing each other over Merlin knows what, and who cares why anyway?! It was stupid the first hundred times or whatever, still stupid now!"
He rolled over onto his side, "Everyone you've met here so far is either dead or dying or wounded or trying to kill you, and to top it all there's some kind of super dragon that can talk and has some powerful mind magic that you've just pissed off."
Brego coughed and spluttered, interrupting Harry's train of thought, before he settled again.
"And now you've promised yourself that your going to save some guy you only just met and know nothing about, despite not knowing the first thing about healing, all because you've got this hero complex thing going for you, and you have no idea where to take him to get help."
He sighed and rolled onto his back again.
"Yeah." He huffed. "You're screwed. And you only have yourself to thank." He shook his head. "Why can't you just go a day without something crazy happening?"
He stifled a yawn.
"And what was that thing with Dumbledore anyway?" He asked himself. "Did I just dream him up or what?" He sighed and dwelt on the matter for a moment. No explanation produced itself and he shook his head as another yawn broke its way past his lips. "Oh whatever, its no big deal right now anyway."
He stretched and shifted to find a more comfortable position. Unconsciously and unbidden his eyes closed and soon he fell asleep.
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Harry woke with a start. It was a strange way to wake up. One moment he was blissfully unaware of the world around him, the next he was wide awake and painfully aware of every little movement.
The sun was still out, so he hadn't slept the day away, but the mist had grown into thick, musty fog, almost thick enough to suffocate him, which was a macabre thought given that Brego lay beside him choking…
…"what?!"
Harry scrambled to his knees and hovered over Brego's thrashing form. "Bloody hell!" he swore. "Think Harry! You've got to do something! He's choking! Um..." He dithered for a moment, unsure of what to do, "What the hell do you do to stop someone choking?!"
Panicking he acted on instinct and reached down to pull Brego into a sitting position. Then he slapped his back several times in the hope of dislodging whatever was caught in his companion's throat.
"Come on!" He encouraged. "Cough it out!" No luck. "Damn it!" What else was there? What else could he do?
Wasn't there some kind of technique used by Muggles when people were choking? The Himleck or something? How did that go? Didn't you wrap you arms round his body, hand in the abdomen and squeeze or something like that?
Harry had moved while thinking this to take up the position and perform the manoeuvre. Suddenly Brego began making gulping sound, before he began to choke again, then he coughed and spluttered and at last spit up a considerable amount of blood, before fainting away.
"Oh god! Don't tell me he's dead" Harry muttered with some trepidation. He laid Brego on the ground once more and placed his head against his chest. He heard a low heartbeat and shallow breathing and sat back with a sigh of relief.
Shaking his head with some measure of despair Harry sat back on his heels. "This can't go on." He said. "I need to get you to a professional before it's too late. It would be a damn sight easier if I knew where the hell to go!"
In the depths of the fog he heard a sound far away, getting louder, sounding almost like thunder. Then, every now and then, he heard a voice call out of the fog, and straining his eyes he could see a few flicker of yellow light bouncing of the fog.
Perhaps it was the long and arduous few days he had suffered, or perhaps it was the panic he felt over Brego's situation and his inability to do anything to improve it, whatever the case Harry suddenly abandoned his caution and decided to call out into the fog in the hopes of meeting another human being who could help him.
"Hey!" He called. "Over here!"
But if his voice was heard there was no reaction to it for whatever, whoever it was out in the fog continued on without sparing a second glance.
"Bugger this" Harry huffed in annoyance, and raised his wand. "Deprimo!"
A vicious wind expelled from the end of Harry's wand and blew the fog away. Had he been of a more…rational frame of mind then Harry would have hesitated to used such a spell for fear that he would unintentionally wound whomever was hidden in the fog, but in this circumstance he acted without thinking.
When the spell ended and the wind died down the scene revealed was of several men in armour sprawled out on the floor with several horses stumbling unsteadily to their feet nearby, all noticeably shaken and confused.
"Hey!" Harry called out again, not allowing himself the time to feel sheepish about his mistake. "I need help!"
This time he was undoubtedly seen, for a second group of horsemen began riding to him. They circled him for a moment before lowering their lances and pointing them at him.
Harry blinked at this show of aggression. "Ok now." He said, holding his hands up in the universal sign of non-hostility. "Lets calm down a minute here. There's ten of you and only one of me, I don't think you need all those weapons."
No answer. Then the horses parted slightly and a man in a golden helmet walked into the circle. He removed his helmet and appraised Harry.
"I am Fram, son of Frumgar" he said at length, and looked at Harry expectantly.
Harry stood still, with his arms still raised for a moment. "What? Oh! Well, I'm Harry" He stumbled "son of James, I guess."
"How come you to these lands Harry son of James?" Fram asked.
"I honestly don't know." Harry answered and lowered his hands, using his right one to scratch the back of his neck. "I can't remember exactly." Then he startled "but that's not important anyway! My friend's hurt, he needs a proper healer to look at him."
"I feel it is important to know how would came here" Fram's eyes remained glued to Harry. "Your friend can wait"
"Well, that's where your wrong see." Harry shrugged and gestured to the shrubs where Brego lay. "He's got serious injuries and he almost died a moment ago. If he doesn't see a professional soon then he's not likely to last much longer."
Fram glared at Harry, as if he was trying to peel away the wizards every layer and stare into his very bones. At last he looked away and nodded to two riders. "My men will provide aide for now and we will take him to a healer as soon as possible. "He explained. "Now I must have answers."
"Alright," Harry sighed. "And thanks for dealing with my friend first. What do you want to know?"
"You claim you do not know how you came to be here. For what reason?" Fram's glare remained strong.
Harry shrugged. "Well, I don't remember much before I woke up here. That is to say that I can't recall much of the last few months before Beor found me."
"Beor?" Fram leaned forward, as if this was the most tantalizing bit of information he'd ever heard.
"I don't know if you know him." Harry continued, "Or, rather, knew him. He was this big, shaggy guy, owned a farm, somewhere near here I think, he had a wife called Freya and a daughter called Frewyn. Anyway, he found me in the river."
"What were you doing in the river?" Fram interjected, confusion upon his face.
"Drowning I guess." Came Harry's answer. "That's not really important either. What matters is that Beor fished me out and let me stay with his family until I had recovered from…whatever it was I went through before."
"Which you don't remember" added Fram sceptically.
"Which I don't remember" Harry echoed in agreement. "Anyway, I was living in Beor's home, helping him and Freya whenever I could, when these Goblins attacked. It was mad, and I was stupid, almost got myself killed, but I managed to get to Beor's house only for this giant or troll or something to come crashing through the wall. Next thing I know I'm a prisoner in some underground cavern with a whole host of other people, and Goblins standing watch."
Fram's brow creased. "The Goblins took you to their lair? Why?"
"Some kind of plot or something" Harry shrugged helplessly again "The Goblin guards didn't much care but there was this big, fat Goblin who seemed to be in charge. I don't know what he wanted really but he seemed to think he was the rightful owner of these lands."
"What!" Fram was outraged.
Harry could only shrug again "Seemed weird to me as well, but what would I know about it. Whatever the case that Goblin just wanted to torture us so we made this plan to escape and we rebelled when the Goblins were fighting themselves, but only me and Brego got out alive. Then we had to escape quick and spent the next few days walking around in endless tunnels before we came across a troll that attacked us and injured him, I was lucky to escape that as well."
"Indeed" Fram has a pensive look on his face, as if he was only barely hearing what Harry was saying.
Harry noticed Fram's change of mood but he couldn't stop himself from continuing. "So I had to carry him out of the caves and I came to this long, winding stair that went down as far as I can see. I don't know what happened next but I must have passed out and fallen down them because when I came round I was in this massive hall surrounded by treasure."
"The Dragons hoard?!" the question came in shocked tone from one of the riders, all of whom had stood down by this stage and were milling around.
"Yeah" Harry nodded. "Piles of gold and jewels and whatnot. Anyway, as I was trying to get out of there with Brego this massive Dragon attacks me and almost crushes me. I was lucky enough to find this sword in the pile he crushed me into" He gestured to the black sword now hanging from his belt. "I swung it in desperation and it caught the Dragon in the eye, giving me enough time to get out."
"Hold on" another rider said, "Do you expect us you wounded the Long Worm?"
"I don't expect you to believe anything." Harry answered with half a look towards the man. "But it happened." Harry turned back to Fram. "I don't know what happened next, the Dragon must had been angry enough to loose its senses because it collapsed all the tunnels out of the chamber after I dragged Brego outside. And I'd been walking all night until I came here to rest. I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I'm aware of it Brego choking himself half to death and you lot riding by."
Silence reigned. The horsemen could not believe Harry's story while Fram still had that pensive look on his face.
"And that wind?" Fram said, his voice startling the surrounding company. "That wind that knocked my riders to the ground and scattered theirs horses. Do you know how that came to be?"
Throughout his entire explanation Harry had been careful not to make any mention of his magic and he wasn't about to slip up not. "Act of god?"
Fram regarded him again before huffing. "Whatever truth there is to your tale I know you have hidden some details from me. I will discover what they are in due course. For now you will ride with Adhelm and we will take you and your…friend to Frumgarsford. There he will receive treatment and you will be presented before our chief."
And with those words the company leapt into action. Before Harry knew it he was sharing a horse with a rider and slipping off into sleep despite being jostled by the ride.
~ End Chapter Six ~
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