Volume 1 - Chapter 05

It had been three weeks since the Fellowship arrived. They were fully healed and well rested. Boromir appeared to be anxious to be on his way. Aragorn and Legolas seemed to be quite at home among the elves. The hobbits were thriving and learning some skills with their weapons. Gimli was somewhat accepted within the home of the elves and was allowed full access within the lower levels of Lothlórien, but never unaccompanied within the tops of the mallorn.

Harry rarely went exploring with Luna any longer. While his curiosity about what lay beyond the trees was mostly assuaged by his time on guard duty, the hobbits were inquisitive beings. Harry was tasked to watch over them so they didn't get hurt, lost or - worse - get up to any tomfoolery.

Frodo and Merry looked up when Harry entered the pavilion. Aragorn appeared to have been pointing something out on a map to the duo. "Harry," Aragorn began, but hesitated.

"Yes?"

"That popping thing you do, how far can you go?" Aragorn asked.

"I've never tested it," Harry admitted.

"Could you, maybe, go all the way to Mordor?" Merry asked. "We were just looking at the map and it's a long way away, but if you can just…" Merry did some odd thing like an explosive gesture and Harry snorted in amusement.

"No matter how far I can, in fact, apparate, I've never been to Mordor, so it won't work. Sorry."

"Ah well, had to ask," Aragorn said.

Harry looked around the pavilion. Something felt off. Legolas was nowhere to be seen, most likely off with Luna again. Boromir had just come from their sleeping area. Gimli was sitting with his feet up, crossed at the ankles, and gave Harry a mischievous grin. "You're late."

"Late?" Harry asked in confusion. He had arrived at the same time every morning for the past three weeks. Harry looked around in alarm. Sam and Pippin were missing. That meant trouble. If Pippin got bored or hungry, there was going to be a disturbance. Merry tried to keep Pippin from getting into too much mischief, but usually failed miserably. Harry looked at the dwarf and demanded, "Where is Pippin?"

Gimli shrugged nonchalantly. "I can't say with certainty, but I'd wager the kitchen. They left when Pip got hungry."

"Bugger," Harry said and apparated immediately. There were a few areas that the elves left empty so Harry could pop in without injury or incident and, ever since the arrival of the Fellowship, the kitchen was one such area.

Harry had just arrived when there was a crash. He winced and turned to assess the destruction that Pippin had created. Only Pippin sat at a counter eating an apple far away from all the damage. It was Sam that stood in the center of the chaos, a gray sludge with a smattering of limp vegetables lay at his feet. Sam groaned over the loss of what he had been cooking, Elladan was staring in horror at his sludge covered boots and Elrohir was holding a pot handle, sans the rest of the pot that was currently on the ground with the muck, looking too innocent to be blameless.

"Hullo, Harry," Pippin chirped.

Elrohir slipped his left hand behind his back and tried to nonchalantly slip away from the bedlam, but Harry groaned, "You two are as bad as Pippin."

"Oi," Pippin tried to object, but when Harry raised an eyebrow in challenge, the hobbit just shrugged in acceptance, and went back to eating his apple.

"Come now, Honana,"(6) Elrohir also tried to object, but Elladan smacked his brother's arm before swearing faster than Harry could follow while gesturing to his boots.

Harry shook his head at their antics. He would have laughed had he not seen the utter disappointment in Sam's features when their eyes met. Sam deflated, "I was hoping to cheer up Mr. Frodo with a taste of home."

"I'm sorry, Sam," Harry said and flicked his wrist to release his wand. With a swoosh of magic and a flowing gesture from Harry, the room began cleaning and righting itself… including Elladan's boots.

Sam gave Harry a grateful look and went back to cooking whatever it was that he had been trying to cook earlier. "This time I will use my own pots and pans. Their pots are too heavy…" Sam shot the twins a look of warning and set his smaller, hobbit-sized pot on the cooking fire.

"Anything I can help you with?" Harry asked as he stepped up to the counter.

"Are you any good in the kitchen?" Sam looked at the wizard skeptically.

Harry couldn't help but laugh. "Yes. I've been cooking since I was tall enough to reach the hob." Harry grabbed a potato and began peeling it with sure strokes. Sam watched before nodding his approval and they started to work.

- - - - MoD-V01 - - - -

The room was mostly bare, furnished with only a sturdy long wooden table in the center and matching chairs surrounding it. The fortress was not known for creature comforts. It was a base of operations for Sauron's army, a gathering point for his minions, a stable for the hell-hawks and fell steeds, and a home for the nazgûl.

The Witch-king had cleared all orcs from Minas Morgul before he allowed the other ringwraiths the freedom to voice their opinions. It would not do for their grievances to be overheard by the wrong ears… especially the Mouth.

Er-Murazor sat on a hard, straight-backed chair and listened. Dwar argued relentlessly with Ren. Their voices were raised and reverberated in the room.

Khamûl sat to Er-Murazor's left. The Witch-king watched as Khamûl clenched his fists in vexation. Er-Murazor understood Khamûl's frustrations and finally raised his hand to silence the arguing pair. The Witch-king spoke in the Black Speech, "{Enough.}"

Gaining everyone's attention, Er-Murazor waited for them to settle down in their seats. Ren was reluctant to comply, but finally sat as he was the last wraith standing.

Hoarmurath shook his head and - refusing to use the Black Speech - said, "The Master will free us. We need not fight amongst ourselves. If you prefer to continue following Sauron, then do so, but -"

"{Hoarmurath, enough.}" Er-Murazor could see Ren growing angry again so he cut across the beginning of yet another tirade. "{Opinions are of no import; truths are. We are compelled by the will of the One Ring. Sauron rules over the ring; therefore, He rules over us all. The Master has come to Middle-earth. The Master protected the halfling that carries the One Ring from my blade.}" That last fact had Ren out of his seat ready to argue once again. Er-Murazor held up his hand to stall his words. The Witch-king simply said, "{I saw the Master. He saw me. Those are the truths.}"

Ren continued to stand at the opposite end of the table, refusing to cow to the Witch-king. Akhorahil looked uneasy and asked, "{Why would the Master do such a thing? What does this mean?}"

Reluctantly, Er-Murazor admitted, "{That is what vexes me.}"

Khamûl frowned at the Witch-king, saying, "{I follow you, Brother. You are the Leader of the Nazgûl. But the Master's actions mean nothing. The Master has never mattered before. We are Sauron's generals. We have a duty to return the Ring to him.}"

Ren and Uvatha both cried out in agreement, "{Hear, hear!}" But their cheers were not repeated by all the ringwraiths gathered around the table.

Er-Murazor stood as the meeting was drawing to an end. He knew that before dawn bled next on Minas Morgul there would be souls lost at the hand of the Witch-King.

- - - - MoD-V01 - - - -

Harry was crouching on a branch looking southward down the pale gleam of Anduin. Beyond the river the land appeared flat and empty, formless, and vague. It was late evening once more and the wizard felt a flicker of… something… some sort of awareness of trouble, or darkness, that was lurking beyond the safety of the woods of Lórien.

Alaion stood on a higher branch and turned his attention further south. Harry noticed the elf's intense look. Knowing an elf's vision, especially in the dark, was better than his, Harry asked, "[What do you see?]"

There were a few silent moments that lingered between them. Bringing his attention back to the wizard, Alaion shook his head as he said, "[Nothing. It is not something I can see, but it is…]"

The elf's words tapered off and Harry nodded in understanding, voicing the words Alaion did not, "[It is something you sense. I feel it, too.]"

"[It is a darkness, yet more,]" Alaion said, but didn't elaborate what 'more' it could possibly be.

"[The darkness… it feels like rage… hate… despair,]" Harry shook his head to clear it. He wasn't sure if he had explained it well, but Alaion appeared to understand. Harry looked once again towards the south. There was a dark haze in the night sky that loomed in one particular area. He had asked once what was out that way. Mordor. Something was stirring out there.

Harry wasn't on guard duty that evening. He had simply wanted, no... needed, a break from babysitting Pippin. Unfortunately, Harry wasn't finding much peace out by the river that night. Alaion, on the other hand, was on guard duty and was soon moving on along the perimeter, leaving Harry to watch the river alone.

There was a sudden clash of sound that reverberated through Harry and he grasped the tree trunk as a wave of vertigo swept through him. Harry squeezed his eyes closed and felt anger, resentment, disappointment, pain, and betrayal wash over him. He gasped at the deep sorrow and leaned fully into the tree for support.

- - - - MoD-V01 - - - -

Er-Murazor slowly slid the mogul blade back and forth over the whetstone. It wasn't a necessary undertaking for him to do since they had orcs to do menial tasks for them, but the Witch-king found the methodical movements soothing.

Dispatching nazgûl wasn't easy. There wasn't much that could permanently kill a ringwraith. No mere man could do it, but another nazgûl with a mogul blade…

Akhorahil, Ji Indur, and Adunaphel were straightening the hall. Hoarmurath and Dwar were moving the bodies to their bedrooms.

The nine were now down to six. Khamûl, Ren, and Uvatha had fought well, but were out-skilled. Er-Murazor wasn't their leader just because he was called the Witch-king. Er-Murazor was also the best warrior among them.

He hadn't wanted to slay his brothers, but there could be no dissension between them. The Master protected the hobbit. He did not want Er-Murazor to gain access to the One Ring. There had to be a reason and Er-Murazor would find out what it was before returning the Ring to Him.

Dwar silently laid the three rings on the table in front of the Witch-king before backing away. Er-Murazor didn't reach for them. He simply kept moving his sword with slow strokes.

Hoarmurath reentered the hall and looked at Er-Murazor expectantly, but still the Witch-king kept silent, sharpening his blade. Akhorahil, Ji Indur, and Adunaphel soon joined them. The five watched their leader until Hoarmurath spoke, "Ren forced this outcome. He could not see reason-"

"{It is done,}" said Er-Murazor as he openly glared at Hoarmurath. "{You are too impatient. We have work to do, answers to find. While searching for the One Ring, we could have found them and then decided on an action. Perhaps our brothers would have seen reason when faced with the Master, perhaps not. Now we cannot know, and their souls will forever be lost.}"

At that reminder, four nazgûl looked away in shame, but Hoarmurath would not be deterred, "The Master will free us."

"{Or condemn us for our actions on behalf of Sauron,}" Er-Murazor countered.

- - - - MoD-V01 - - - -

Harry wasn't sure how long he sat there on the branch before he finally dropped to the ground and made his way back to the center of Caras Galadhon and the base of the main mallorn. It was late in the evening and there weren't many awake at that hour.

There was a glimmer of movement near the pavilion where the Fellowship currently resided. Harry sighed, wondering - not for the first time - what Pippin was up to and went to check on things.

With a nearly silent pop of displaced air, Harry apparated to the pavilion and was surprised to find Galadriel walking away with Frodo following in her wake. Harry could hear snoring coming from the pavilion and, with a quick disillusion spell, chose to follow along.

When Harry arrived at the small glade, he saw Galadriel lead Frodo to a low stone pedestal, carved like a branching tree holding a shallow silver basin. When Harry had been led to that very bowl, he mistakenly thought it was a pensieve, but was quick to change his mind when he looked into it. Galadriel's mirror was more like a crystal ball with a bit of the Mirror of Erised mixed in.

Galadriel asked, "Will you look into the mirror?"

Frodo looked with apprehension at the silver basin. Instead of answering, Frodo asked a question of his own, "What will I see?"

Harry shuddered at the memory of his own vision in the bowl. Galadriel poured water into the basin from a silver jug and, just like the last time Harry witnessed the action, a glow rose from the water.

Cryptic like Dumbledore, Galadriel said, "Even the wisest cannot tell, for the mirror shows many things… things that were… things that are… and some things that have not yet come to pass."

Frodo slowly stepped up to the pedestal and onto the stone step in order to see inside easier. The glow of the water lit Frodo's face clearly and Harry knew that whatever the hobbit saw, was none of his business. Still, the little hobbit looked so lost and alone when Frodo looked to Galadriel for guidance before he peered down into the glossy surface. Harry silently vowed to himself that he'd help Frodo carry out his quest as best he could and popped back to his room, leaving the two alone in the small glen.

Before anyone could ask anything further from him, Harry turned on the spot and, with a small pop of displaced air, was gone.

Timeline:

TA 3019, Jan 25 Gandalf slays the balrog at the peak of Zirak-zigil and dies

TA 3019, Feb 14 Lothlórien: Frodo looks in the mirror of Galadriel / Gandalf returns to life

Footnote:

(6) I wanted a word for uncle, but apparently they don't have uncle so Elipsa put this at the end of my document:

Elipsa is writing something here! Ok, so: a word for "brother" is hawn, which becomes hon- in longer words (ex: honeg / honig, which means diminutive (eg/ig) brother or little brother). Which means maternal uncle could possibly be mother's brother = honemer, where emer = mother or honnaneth, where naneth = mother. You could maybe even do: honnana / honana (nana being like 'mom' - not sure, but it sounds fun).

Gotta love my kid. She's pretty dang creative.