Delusional

Jessylane318

"Say, Mr. Harry," spoke one of the hobbits about an hour into the walk. Merry, he thought the boy's name to be, or perhaps it was Pippin. The two were practically inseparable anyways. "What land do you hail from?"

"England," Harry replied with a small smile. Frodo, he noticed, looked back curiously and with confusion.

"I've never heard of such a place. Is it a part of Gondor?"

"No," the green eyed boy answered, unsure of where Gondor was. "It's an island in the far north, I think."

"What's it like?" inquired Sam curiously. "Does it have hobbits?" Harry frowned thoughtfully, unsure. They had midgets, he knew, but none quiet like the hobbits he'd met. None quiet like Bob...

"If so, I've never met them. But we do have gnomes and centaurs," he admitted, remembering his time in the forbidden forest and when he'd helped de-gnome the Weasley's garden earlier in the summer.

"Gnomes and Centaurs?" asked Frodo, finally joining in. "I've never heard of such people. What are they like?"

"Well," began Harry, thinking back to the mysterious inhabitants of the Forbidden forest. "The Centaurs are half horse half man and they're very mysterious and vague. Always talking about the stars and planets..."

"They sound almost like elves," replied Frodo thoughtfully. Harry noticed Sam perk at the words and smiled remembering Dobby the house-elf that had attempted to save him by trying to beat him up.

"We have elves as well," Harry answered and went on to describe the other creatures he knew of while listening to fascinating tales about a hobbit named Bilbo.

"Harry, do not jest!" laughed Merry merrily. "No children of eleven could defeat a troll!"

Harry laughed as well, realizing at once how strange it sounded as he ate the food on his plate ravenously. He'd ended up telling them of a few of his adventures; stories of the ghost at his school and man-eating plants. Most of the time they looked at him in confusion, not understanding; but sometimes, such as these, they did. "But we did. Ron managed to levitate his club above his head while I distracted it."

"What I would like to know," interrupted Strider as he entered camp once more from his scouting, "is where the adults were during this excitement."

The hobbits looked on as Harry blushed red and lowered his eyes slightly in shame.

"They were off searching the dungeons-"

"You had dungeons!" shouted Sam, his eyes wide, and Harry realized his mistake.

"Well yes, but no one was tortured in them if that's what you think—well, not unless you count potions—but still! It was just an old castle, and where was I..."

"The adults?" reminded Pippin, leaning forward in his seat.

"Yes well, while they were searching the dungeons, the troll had somehow gotten upstairs to the girl's loo-"

"The girl's what?"

"Loo," Harry answered, before feeling utterly stupid. These people had chamberpots, not loos. "The room where only girls use the chamberpots."

"But why would-" started Merry. Sam cut him off with a hard glare, wanting to hear the full story. "Never mind."

"Yes, so we were looking for Hermione, who had left to cry in the loo because of something we'd said, when we found the troll, or rather it found us. The thing was enormous and smelled fouler than Pippin's cooking." He watched them laugh and smiled as well. "It was about to smash Hermione to bits, so we didn't have time to go get adults."

Strider nodded, though his eyes still seemed distrusting.

Harry wondered if the man would ever look at him with anything but.

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"Weathertop Mountain..." Harry whispered as he looked on towards the distant hill not quite as tall as those that surrounded Hogwarts. He wished he were back with his friends, wished none of this had ever happened.

Looking up, he stared at the silhouette of the moon—it's light broken in a laughing crescent. Night had fallen long ago and the hobbits were well asleep. He didn't bother to wonder where Strider was, the man could be anywhere and everywhere at the same time.

Vaguely, he remember walking under a light much the same as he tried to follow the spiders.

He gave a weak chuckle and hugged his legs to his chest. Aragog had not been the least bit happy to see Ron or himself. The giant Spider had gone so far as to send his baby spiders after them for a tasty morsel. Thankfully Ron's dad's car rescued them from the monsters. He gave a watery smile. They'd used the car to get to school and had crashed into the Womping Willow, a more violent tree he'd never met.

Snape had found them, of course. He'd been made to serve detention. He grinned, recollecting on Lockhart's fan-mail, only to frown, recalling the invisible voice and the attacks. Ms. Norris, Colin Creevy, Nearly Headless Nick... Hermione had figured it out, she always did.

He felt the tears well up but pressed them back. Hermione, the bushy haired genius with buck teeth, and Ron, the red haired Weasley from a poor but loving family that could out maneuver anyone in chess. He missed them both and closed his eyes with a soft sob.

He had to be strong.

He couldn't cry... he couldn't... he couldn't... he...

He broke down and let the tears flow, oblivious to anything besides the pain and loss. He never noticed the blue eyes that watched on in silence.

It took two long days of walking, but the group finally managed to make it to the top of Weathertop Mountain. When they did make it, Harry found the sight breathtaking. Miles on every side of nothing but trees and wilderness. The world around him seemed to spread out for an eternity, disappearing behind the sun's bright glare and the sky's heavy mantle.

"We found it Strider!" Harry looked over and frowned as he watched them gather around a small stone, almost insignificant in the beautiful ruins. "Gandalf! Gandalf was here!"

The green eyed youth frowned. They knew Gandalf? But weren't wizards supposed to keep their magic to themselves? But then again, Butterbur had known—but Harry had thought that just a coincidence, maybe he'd had muggleborn children, or had married a witch. Looking back now, Harry found the assumption ridiculous.

Looking towards the horizon at his back, something caught his eye.

Black shadows moving across the Earth... Looking closer, Harry's forehead and forearm both lit with pain as he stumbled backwards, slipping on the rocks as he went.

"Harry?" called Frodo, having noticed his fall.

"Shadows..." he gushed, still feeling the echoes of pain. "Moving shadows..."

Strider strode forward, looking out before cursing angrily in some language Harry didn't recognize. He pulled Harry to his feet and motioned for them to move together. He went to Bill the pony and took out several clothes, handing each hobbit a dagger and Harry his sword.

"You'd do best," whispered Strider, his blue eyes hard and fierce, "not to mislead my trust, Harry of England." He stood then, pushing Harry towards the hobbits. "They have seen us and will be here by nightfall. Ready yourselves for battle."

Harry fidgeted, having not fought since the basilisk but made no other comment. Looking at the hobbits, he watched them huddle together, obviously terrified.

"Harry..." whispered Merry, when the light of the sun had almost all disappeared. "What are you doing? Aren't you scared?"

He smiled tightly at the hobbit before nodding and looking back towards the wood in his hand. Maybe if he could just make a wand... he'd asked to borrow Strider's knife and the man had allowed it, though suspiciously. "I'm making a... well it doesn't matter. But of course I'm scared! But you just have to bare it, everything'll be alright if you just don't stop."

Merry frowned but nodded all the same. He looked about ready to say something else when a high-pitched shriek filled the air.

"They're here..." whispered Frodo, and Harry fought the urge to look at the small hobbit after the strange tone. But indeed, the shadows were there.

"Give it too us..." whispered one of the riders as two more easily joined it. Black Riders... He stared after them, the pain in his forehead horrible and unrelenting. "Give it to us..."

"Never!" he heard Frodo shout, and the battle commenced, if it could be called that. He lifted the sword, ignoring the pain in his arm as he swung the blade forward, only to hear it ring with the other creature's blade.

He fought as best he could, moving clumsily and with neither grace nor balance. The creature blocked his attempts easily, flinging him back even as he tried to move forward. He fell into one of the stones behind him harshly and heard a voice call his name.

Ears ringing, Harry forced himself to his feet, only barely able to stand before he threw himself at the rider headed for Frodo. He wouldn't loose another. Hermione's face, frozen in terror. Ginny's red hair flowing about her as though in slumber. Bob's brown eyes, startled in a silent scream.

He felt the rage and pulled on it for strength, feeding it with memory after memory.

"Scared Potter?" Malfoy drawled, his blonde hair shimmering beneath the glow of candles as they faced off, his wand rising up in salute.

"You wish!" Harry replied in turn, pulling his own wand up.

He moved forward, pulling the sword down with a mighty force and colliding it with the other object blocking his way. He sneered and pulled the make-shift wand from his pocket, hopping beyond hope it worked. What had Hagrid said? Wandless magic done when one was feeling frightened or angry...

He pulled once more on his rage, trying to focus it through the stick.

"INCENDIO!"

A slight spark lit up the end and Harry watched it jump onto the Rider's cloaks before becoming a blazing inferno as the wand crumbled to ash. The Rider shrieked angrily and in fear as it ran from the area. Drained, Harry fell to his knees just in time to see Frodo disappear once more and to watch a different rider stab him with his blade.

Harry felt the bile rise up in his throat as Frodo returned, his body slumped against the ground, his shoulder bleeding. He watched Strider chase away the last of the riders, his torch inflaming them easily.

"He's been wounded," stated Strider, his voice tight and tired at the same time. "The blade is poisoned. Sam, I need you to find me Athelas. It's also called Kingfoil-"

"I know that one!" shouted Sam as he moved away, dagger out. "Don't worry Mr. Frodo, I'll be right back."

"Pippin, grab some wood," instructed Strider. "Merry go fill a pan with water."

"What should I do?" Harry asked Strider, his voice hollow and gritty. He saw the man open his mouth to answer, but then watched him close it momentarily in thought.

"Are you hurt?" asked the man. Harry might have called the tone kind, if not for the grim and uncaring nature behind it. Harry shook his head before wincing at the motion. Frodo need attention, not him. He'd be fine, he always was, but Frodo wouldn't and he couldn't loose another. Not like Bob... Face frozen in horror and death, mouth bleeding and eyes wide and unseeing.

"You're lying," Strider murmured, his thumb wiping away something from his head. "It would be easier to trust you if you would tell the truth."

"But I-"

"Enough," the ranger stared at him for a moment before seeming to decide something. "How old are you, boy?"

"Twelve," Harry answered, unsure of why he'd be asked such a question. He saw no response except the slight stiffness in the man's body. "Why? Shouldn't you be helping Frodo?"

"Frodo is beyond my ability to help at the moment."

Harry lost his breath. Beyond his help? Beyond... No! He wouldn't loose Frodo! No, he couldn't! "No... No!"

"You fought valiantly today," stated Strider, his words moving Harry oddly. Frodo slipped from his mind as the ranger moved forward, his hands coming up and around his neck, and then, before he realized what was happening, his eyes were rolling backwards and he was falling to the ground.

He didn't remember ever hitting it though.