Dark Magic

There was comfort to be found in the routine of everyday life. Lily had made some progression at the forge, and went from hammering nails to learning how to fix armour that got damaged during a battle. She could feel herself getting stronger from all the physical labour she did, and it gave her a sense of confidence she had not experienced before.

Éowyn proved to be an excellent storyteller, and she frequently got lost in the stories she told as though she was living within them herself. Lily had learnt a lot about the history of the land she now resides in. Of the surrounding kingdoms, of Elendil and the War of the Last Alliance, and of Túrin, who faced the mighty gaze of the dragon Glaurung. But the tale of Beren and Lúthien had been her favourite so far, for they held a love so great that she gave up her immortality for him. In return, Lily had also told Éowyn of some folklore stories she knew from her own world. Though unmatched to Éowyn in the art of storytelling, she had still managed to captivate the attention of those who would join them at the dinner table. Éomer had loved the story of the Knights of the Round Table and their quest for the Holy Grail, and had many questions about the Sword of King Arthur named Excalibur, of which Lily was ashamed to admit she held very little knowledge of. Her telling of the tradition of Maypole dancing had Éowyn delight in the idea of it, and Háma and his son Haleth had vividly discussed what the history of the Standing Stones could be, since the origin and reason of their creation have gotten lost with the passing of time.

It was Gísli that had notified Lily of Gríma's return. Or Wormtongue, as she – and many others in Edoras, had started naming him over the years. Lily had confided in her of what had happened between her and Gríma at the bathhouse, and Gísli had cupped her face into her hands and kissed her brow in reassurance. No words needed to be spoken to understand that Lily's story had been one of mutual understanding, and the bond that had been forming between them had been sealed that day. Gríma had been gone for more than ten days. His absence was not something unusual, as he would often take a horse and ride off; tasked with informing the surrounding settlements of any news from Edoras – and bring any news back with him. Gísli, in all her wisdom, had observed Gríma heading Northwest the past few times he had been sent off on duty, and that could mean only one thing; Gríma was heading off towards Isengard. The place where Saruman the White Wizard resides.

Lily wasn't sure how to feel about the Wizards within this particular world. The one Gríma had referred to as Gandalf Stormcrow had taken Rohan's favourite horse and had not returned with him. Saruman's name had been mentioned in whispers and in mutters, as though it was preferred that he was kept at a distance – and it made it all the stranger that Gríma would set out in his direction. And yet, Lily couldn't help but wonder what it would take for her to get Lightfoot and follow Gríma to Isengard in secret. As fond as she had become of Edoras and its people, the need to find and communicate with magic still considerably tipped her internal scale in favour of it. But the fear of the Wizards of this world not being what she hoped them to be held her back. It was within moments like these that she would find herself thinking about Mary and Alice, and the advise they would give when she needed it the most. She knew them well enough to know that their answers would revolve around her safety, just as their answers had always been when her questions involved Severus. She could not leave now. There were too many things on her path to let go off. Eorlund's forge. Gísli's herbal medicine, and who's knowledge seemed to be on par with that of professor Slughorn's. Éowyn's friendship, and all the other friendships that she was forming with the people of Edoras. They were no longer staring at her in the streets, and she took it as a sign that she had been accepted as one of them.

From a safe distance, Lily watched Gríma strutting his way up the stairs towards the Meduseld. Without as much as a glance behind him, he ushered Háma to open the doors and made his way inside. No doubt heading towards King Théoden. 'You have not seen the King since your arrival, have you?' asked Gísli. Lily knew it was more of a statement than a question. They had frequently discussed the King's state of being. To Lily, he was nothing more than an invisible man hidden behind doors she could not enter. It made it seem as though the King was someone to be forgotten about, but she knew better than that. The people of Edoras were very fond of him, and the stories of his heroic deeds were frequently retold in the streets. The King's absence weighed heavy on all of their hearts – and it also made sense that the people would clasp on to any news about him that was given to them. Even if that news came from Gríma, who had somehow managed to capture the trust of the people for his voice to be a reflection of the King's.

Gísli had given Lily a task; to find a way to get past Gríma. Lily had laughed at the idea of it, but had come to the quick realisation that Gísli was serious about her request. The King's ailments were a mystery to her, and as the city's healer it was odd that she would be kept away from the King to aid to his suffering. Gríma, and his fear of magical things, had become the wall Gísli could not climb over – but she believed that Lily could. The confines of the Meduseld prevented them from avoiding each other's presence, and therefore an interchanging of words were inevitable. For the sake of Edoras, Lily would have to find out what was ailing the King, and if successful in doing so, find a way to give medicine to him unseen. It was a dangerous task, but Lily had understood the importance of it. She followed Gríma's footsteps after he had entered the Meduseld, and found Éomer and Théodred practising their sword fighting inside.

'Hello Lily!' Théodred called out to her between the clanking of their swords. 'Care to take my sword and try it out?'

It wasn't the first time Lily had seen them practising their sword fighting. They were clearly trained long and well since they were little children, and the speed and strength in which they wielded their swords caused her to admire it, but also cower a bit. It felt violent, and the echoes of the clashing swords felt razor-sharp to her ears. 'Perhaps another time,' she answered politely. 'I'm actually looking for –'

'— oh come on!' interrupted Éomer. 'I want to see you try! If you don't you'll never be as good as my sister!'

'I'm aware that Éowyn is a skilled fighter, but –'

'No buts!' cried Théodred, and before Lily could wave it off he shoved his sword into her hands. Despite feeling a growing strength in her body that she had attributed to working at the forge and in the fields, the sword felt heavy and dangerous in her hands. 'Fear is a liar,' he said to her reassuringly. 'Put one hand above the other and close your hands around the grip. Don't squeeze too tightly, or your wrists will get tired. Your sword needs to have room to dance.'

'It's all about the footwork,' Éomer added. 'Know where your feet will lead you – and your sword will follow.'

Lily took a step forward and gave it a swing, which caused her to stumble as the weight of the sword dragged her forward, and she nearly tripped over her own feet. 'If you move forward, you will go forward,' Théodred laughed. 'It is an art to lead your sword, and not to let your sword lead you!'

'So I noticed,' said Lily as she laughed it off. 'I believe this is far too heavy for me.'

'Treat your sword as your friend,' said Éomer. 'With practise and patience – a bond will be formed that will ease the burden.'

'Alright,' said Lily, though unable to shake the feeling that she had picked up the sword at least a decade too late. 'Let's try again.'

Éomer and Théodred were helping Lily with having proper posture and stance when Gríma came in from around the corner, and leaned against the door frame to take in the scene that was unfolding in front of him. 'Is this truly necessary?' he asked.

'It's just a bit of fun, Gríma,' said Éomer. 'She may not join an éored any day soon, but there's nothing wrong with learning how to defend yourself. Knowing how to wield a sword has helped my sister fend for herself more than once.' His words were loaded as he spoke them, as though there was more below the surface to be found.

'I have no doubt in my mind that Lily of House Gryffindor is perfectly capable of defending herself,' said Gríma with a sly grin on his face. 'May I suggest she holds the sword against me instead?'

Lily wasn't sure where to look when Gríma offered to be her opponent. It felt as though he had found a way to hurt her while making it seem like an accident, and her heart started beating violently in her chest. But perhaps, too, this was her way in in getting to strike a conversation with him that could help her break his mould. From the corner of her eye she could see Théodred winking at her, as though reassuring her it would be alright. 'I accept,' she said with as much courage as she could muster, and beckoned to the empty space in front of her. 'If you'll do me the honour of showing your great swordsman's skills.'

'I'm far from the greatest in this room,' said Gríma as he stepped forward, and bowed courteously before her. 'I have a preference for sharpening the mind over sharpening the sword. Words can inflict wounds much deeper than the blade.'

'I agree with your statement,' said Lily as she raised up the sword in the way Théodred had shown her. 'Then perhaps you should let your sword speak for you.'

'Your tongue speaks of confidence – and yet your eyes speak of fear,' said Gríma as he took the sword Éomer offered him. He made his stance wide and lowered his body. 'Keep your foot at the front pointed forward. You do not want to have your calf exposed to the enemy. Bring your sword up to the height of your shoulder, and find your balance!'

Lily did not appreciate the commanding tone in his voice, but did as she was told regardless. It felt unnatural, but a widened stance and with the sword resting against her shoulder, the weight of it diminished significantly. 'Is this where I start sticking you with the pointy end?' she asked.

'You may find this humorous, young lady,' said Gríma with a scoff, 'but you've witnessed the havoc that Orcs can cause. Rohirric blood has stained your hands with their foul deeds. Do not underestimate the power of a creature that has but only one goal in mind – and a hungering for food and rest does not stop them from trying to obtain it.' Without signal or warning, Gríma brought down his sword and clashed against Lily's, who shrieked as the blow against her shoulder pushed her backwards. 'You're still standing, but calm your breathing. In through your nose – and out through your mouth.'

Lily could feel a nasty bruise starting to grow on her shoulder, but pushed against the pain by breathing as Gríma had told her. The blow had raised her state of alertness, and she could sense that she was starting to refocus. In her mind, she could hear herself asking Éomer and Théodred to leave, as though she longed to fight this fight for herself and her alone. 'Go on,' she heard Gríma say. 'Give it a swing.' With the energy she felt rising up from her core she swung the sword forward, and it clashed hard against Gríma's sword blocking her swing in mid-air. Sparks flew where the sharp edges of the swords collided, and it rained down around them.

The small scattered fires that warmed the Meduseld flared up in flames so high it nearly touched the roof. A shadow fell over the walls, as though the autumn sun had hidden itself behind the clouds and held no intention of returning. The air turned hot, and sweat started dripping down from his brow. Gríma's eyes shifted from the look of a determined prideful man, to one who had come face to face with his worst fear. 'Where have Éomer and Théodred gone?' he asked with a quiver to his voice. His robes and his hair were sticking to his skin, and the swords in his hands started glowing red. 'What have you done to them?'

'I made them leave,' said Lily calmly, unfazed and untouched by the rising of the heat. She didn't now how she had made it happen, and felt the words roll of her tongue before her mind could make sense of it. 'I flared the fires and cast the shadow on the walls. The people here cannot hear you. Cannot see you. Cannot feel your presence.' The shards of a memory reflected in her mind. It felt far away, as though from another lifetime. And yet, it had barely been two months since it happened. It was a hot September day, and she was walking through the train that had departed from platform nine and three-quarters mere moments ago. Compartment after compartment she searched for him, hoping to catch a glimpse of his long dark hair. She did not find him by sight, but through the buzzing sound that the Muffliato charm left in her ears. It was a spell of his own creation. One that he had created for them, so they could always speak in private even in the loudest of places. He sat alone in the compartment – and yet he was so determined not to be heard by anyone that he would cast it even in his solitary state. 'Let me in Severus Snape!' she had spat. 'Oi, Evans!' The voice of James Potter and his strutting footsteps were approaching her from behind. 'Perfect,' she had thought. 'Now Severus will have to respond to me.' 'Fancy seeing you again!' said James happily. 'What's gotten you all riled up? Oh, c'mon, Snape's not worth the trouble. After what he's said to you that time, you should know that he's not worth your–' Severus' blow to James' stomach had come at a favourable timing, and she found her way inside the compartment and locked the door behind her. She had surrounded them in darkness, preventing James not only from hearing, but seeing what they were speaking of as well. She could feel it was the same darkness that was surrounding her and Gríma this time. The need to fill the room with nothing more than the presence of two people who had something to say to each other despite their discomfort. The warmth of Severus' tear-stained cheek glowed like a dying ember in the palm of her hand. She was falling into an understanding of what was happening now. The magic within her was doing its work, and was countering the unfair balance that Gríma physically held over her.

'This is dark magic!' Gríma spat. The sword he was holding started glowing so hot he had no choice but to toss it at her feet, the imprint of the hilt still scorching in the palms of his hands. 'You deceiving witch!'

'It appears you have surrendered,' said Lily calmly, and the fires around them dimmed back to their previous smouldering state. 'I will show mercy – I promise.' Dark magic. Those words had ticked her off a bit. A thing she had accused Severus of doing countless of times, and now she was accused of doing the exact same thing by defending herself. A thing Severus had always done. 'Do not underestimate the power that I hold, for my words are far stronger than the blade that I wield.'

Gríma scoffed as he pushed his wet hair away from his eyes. 'Using my own words against me. You've got a lot of nerve darkening the very light of the sun in the house of your King.'

'My king?' said Lily as she laughed at the thought of it, and lowered her sword in victory. 'When did you start acknowledging that I have become part of the people of Rohan, Gríma? When have I stopped being the outlander that you fear?' She stepped forward, and the tip of the sword scraped over the stone floor as she walked her way up to him. She did not stop until she saw the whites in his eyes. 'I wish to speak with your King.'

'There is no dragon's hoard of gold large enough to persuade me from stepping aside,' said Gríma. Lily raised the sword and placed the blade to rest upon his shoulder. All it took was a swift strong blow to the side to separate his head from the rest of his body, and yet he did not cower or yield. 'You may burn your fires so hot that the very stones you stand on will melt beneath your feet, and I will still not let you speak your words of witchcraft to the King.'

'Your devout loyalty would have made you fit for my House,' said Lily. 'But I don't believe you. You speak with the Wizard of Isengard. Oh, I know you do,' she said as she felt him trying to get out from underneath the sword on his shoulder, and pushed down a little harder. 'Northwest you go, and from there you return. Your true loyalty is as questionable as your heritage, and underneath it all there is a much bigger story unfolding than you are letting on. Your King – he is ill, and yet no healer has been granted a visit to tend to his needs. What are you hiding, Gríma? What secret is so big that it would make you watch the King succumb to his pain rather than have his internal wounds tended to? How is your serpent tongue not responsible for poisoning his thoughts? What snakes did you speak with to learn how to enter the heart of your King?'

Through all the confidence, determination and pride that Lily had seen on Gríma's face, retaliation was not one she had expected. 'How did you –' he said, but she did not let him finish. With a swift dance around him, and the sword on his shoulder clanking loudly against the stone floor as it fell, she rushed her way towards the room she knew where the King was resting.

It felt as though the Meduseld had grown ten times in size. Gríma was right behind her, trying to reach for her robes as she rushed her way down the hall. He was fast, and several times Lily could feel the tips of his fingers gliding over her dress as he tried to pull her down to the ground. 'Come back here!' he yelled at her. His attempts to latch on to her were in vain. She rushed her way inside the King's quarters and slammed the door behind her. Against the wall stood a large heavy closet, and she jumped up to its edges on top to make it tip over. With a loud crash, the closet came down and blocked the door. 'Let me in you foul witch!' Gríma screamed on the other side, and his rammed his shoulder hard into the door. 'Do not come near him, or I shall have you banished from the realm of Rohan! I will deliver you to the Orcs and into the hands of Sauron himself if I –'

Lily ignored anything else Gríma was screaming about. The consequences of her actions were something she would have to face some other moment, as for now she only had Gísli's wish in mind. Through a small window, the last light of the sun hit the four-poster bed that the King was lying in. The King looked like a frail man who was lying on his death bed, awaiting the End to come and take him. The crashing of the closet had not woken him up, and she decided it would be safe to approach him. King Théoden had turned so pale his skin had nearly turned to ash, and his once wild hair had turned grey and thin. A mere glimmer of the tall and imposing leader had been reduced to a small and fading man, and Lily felt her heart ache at the sight of it. On a night stand beside him stood a goblet with the familiar valerian scent of a Sleeping Draught. She looked at it, and saw that it wasn't coloured in the familiar shade of purple. It was a dark green, and there was a sharpness to it that did not come from the wormwood. Trust your instincts. She could almost hear Severus whisper it into her ear as she thought back on all the times she had to use her nose to determine ingredients from a phial. Poison, she thought back to the Severus in her mind. But what poison?

'Reduce it to its natural environment, Lily,' Severus said back in her mind. 'Remember, poisonous plants don't want to hide. They pretend to be innocent. They want to be found.'

Lily cleared out the closet she had tipped over, and opened up drawers left and right in search of any signs of a poisonous plant. She found many herbs, though most she found were mainly used for food. Among them was a bundle of what appeared to be sage, which was mainly used for tea in case of a soar throat. Some of its leaves were meticulously plucked, and it seemed out of place with all the other herbs that were pulled roughly from their stems. Carefully with the tip of her finger she touched it, and immediately she felt a jolt of pain travelling through her nervous system. The leaves of the plant curled up in anger, as though it did not appreciate being touched at all. 'Found you,' she whispered to the plant. 'You're not sage at all. But, what are you?' She tore of a piece of fabric from the King's bedsheets, and she wrapped up the plant into a secured pouch for Gísli. Hopefully, she would have the answers.

There was no more sound coming from the other side of the door, but she highly doubted Gríma had given up and was on his way to find reinforcements. Quickly she dumped whatever was left in the goblet through a crack in the window, and squeezed King Théoden's hand in reassurance, although it felt as if she was hoping to receive some reassurance from him. With the strange plant secured in the pocket of her dress, she pulled herself together and started pushing against the closet. She didn't need to push any further, for the door was slammed open with great force, causing her and the closet to be pushed aside as though caught in a heavy storm. Háma stood at the door, and beckoned at her to leave the room. 'Be quick,' he said. 'Do not worry. Gísli has filled me in, but you must leave and make your way outside as though this never happened. I will clean up this mess.'

'Where's Gríma?' asked Lily as she sprinted her way out.

'Everyone has made their way to the city's gates,' said Háma as he pulled the closet up straight. 'Even Gríma could not stay away to see what is happening out there. I will erase any traces of your presence here. Gríma cannot hurt you as long as I stand beside you. Now, hurry!'

Without looking back, Lily ran down the hall and out through the doors. The entire city had gathered by the gates and beyond, and their eyes were all focused to the West. The silver-grey of his coat shimmered in the light of the setting sun. Faster than all the other horses he was, as though he was carried by the wind and flew on it. 'Shadowfax has returned,' said Éowyn from behind her. 'Gandalf must have released him after fulfilling his purpose.'

'Magnificent,' said Lily, but couldn't help but search the crowd for Gísli instead. As incredible as Shadowfax' return was, and how it was considered it a good omen by the whispers around her, the plant she had found had become the sole priority in her mind. She excuses herself from Éowyn and searched the crowd, and she finally found her near the mound of Helm Hammerhand. 'I found something,' she said under her breath. Without drawing attention from anyone around them, she handed over the clothbound plant. 'Be careful not to touch it.'

Gísli folded open a piece of the fabric and gasped in horror. 'I shall burn this straight away,' she said with a foul taste in her voice. 'It's called Hithlas, but it's also known as Sauron's Gift by the Orcs. Treacherous by how innocent it looks. Did you find this on the King?'

'Yes,' said Lily. 'I believe it is used in his Sleeping Droughts, for it did not appear as it should be in his goblet. Thank you for sending Háma after me, though I don't know what Gríma will do if he finds out what I took.'

'Háma will look after you,' said Gísli, 'as will I. Do not fear what he cannot prove to the King's family. Even he holds no power without evidence, same as we don't have evidence that it was him that administered the poison. How is King Théoden faring?' Lily fell into an explanation of what had happened and told her of current state of the King. Gísli was hurt by what she heard and learnt, and thought of the ways in which she could help counter the poison that had been administered to him.

'What does it mean, for Shadowfax to be back?' Lily asked eventually.

'His return could be considered that something in the balance of this world has been restored,' said Gísli, 'But I wouldn't hang on to his return as though it were a sign of good fortune to come. Shadowfax is now bound to the call of the Grey Wizard, and I suspect he has not been released from his duties just yet.'

Lily could feel that she was being watched, and as she turned around she met with Gríma's pale blue eyes. She was met with a gaze that Gríma had once reserved for Éowyn, but now it appeared his focused had shifted, and Éowyn was no longer the heart of his attention.

'I must go,' he said to her so only she could hear. 'But once I return, I shall find you at the Feast of Helga.'

A/N As you may have noticed, magic doesn't work the same way in Harry Potter's universe and in Lord of the Ring's universe. It's often categorised as a hard magic system vs a soft magic system. Hard systems solve problems for the protagonist, and soft systems create problems for the protagonist.
Severus and Lily are of course a bit of an exception to the rules in Middle-earth. I didn't want frivolous wand waving to work simply because it creates far too many plot holes and doesn't fit within the aesthetics of Middle-earth. The soft magic system in it doesn't necessarily create problems for characters within Middle-earth, but there are definitely no colourful sparks flying around that can instantly change a situation. Even the very magic of the Rings of Power is left very vague and up for interpretation to what it can do. Since they're canonically assigned to basic elements, I wanted Lily and Severus to have more elemental based powers here (as it is a major theme in the story). They will definitely not be without magic. It'll just be a different kind of magic that they have to discover for themselves.
That having said, Potion brewing, Astronomy, Alchemy and Herbology (Care of Magical Creatures and Arithmancy too I suppose) are often overlooked but equally worthy types of magical work.

A/N Standing Stones are stones set into the ground vertically. Stonehenge is the most famous Standing Stones circle there is, but there are many similar constructions (and not always in a circle either) to be found all throughout the UK (and also many countries beyond). There's very little known about the social organisation or the religious reasons behind it, and there are no definitive answers as to why they exist in the first place. Their creation dates back as far as 7000 years ago.

A/N Was it commonplace for women to work as a blacksmith in medieval times? Taking aside the fact that this is a fantasy story, women in medieval times did in fact quite frequently work at forges. Yes, it was a profession dominated by men, but most forges were ran as a family business, meaning it were often husband and wife working alongside (and sons and daughters included). There are depictions on woodcuts dating as far back as the 13th century of women performing blacksmithing and armour smithing jobs, and it is assumed it was much more common than otherwise thought of today.

A/N Gríma not only informed Saruman about the secrets and movements of Rohan, but also actively worked to weaken the ailing Théoden with his deceitful counsels and subtle poisons administered as remedies for the easing of old age. In the movies, it was Saruman who cursed Théoden.

A/N Hithlas is a made-up herb used in the videogame "Middle-earth: Shadows of Mordor" and grows in the southern realms. It appears very sage-like, which is why I made it look like that. The Orcs refer to Hithlas as "Sauron's Gift" and steer clear from it. Special gloves must be used to harvest its berries and has the same deadly effect as nightshade or belladonna.

A/N Shadowfax is a descendant of Felaróf and is considered to be the chieftain of the Maeras. Gandalf escaped Orthanc with the help of Gwaihir the Windlord (The Eagles of Manwë) and was brought to Rohan, where he tamed Shadowfax and rode him on his incredible speed to the Shire (in six days). He rode after the company once he learned they had already left the Shire, and dismissed Shadowfax after his arrival in Rivendell (October 18th, according to the Tale of Years. There are some discrepancies about the accuracy of the date of his arrival).