Chapter 1: Smoke & Mirrors
Chapter Text
At first the teenager believed that he had gone blind and was the reason behind him not being able to see anything but utter blackness. Just as he began to think that, it began to lighten just the smallest bit and realized that he wasn't blind; his surroundings were getting lighter until everything was just very grey. From the floor to the walls, to the smokey haze that surrounded him everywhere. He hadn't been sure at first but as things came into focus, he realized that he was in a very familiar place despite it's lack of color and the haze. It was the train station where he'd crossed a portal into a world where he'd finally found family; people who had cared for him and not the-boy-who-lived or the neighbor’s pitiable troubled nephew. A world he belonged to much more than the one he’d lived before he found out all the strange things he could do were magic. Just as he was beginning to wonder why he was there, he spotted a familiar form ahead of him and he immediately recalled what had happened as he began to run after the man calling, "Sirius!"
Harry had been in the veil room, a standoff between himself and Lucius Malfoy had happened over the prophecy that Voldemort was eager to get his hands on. The teen's friends had been held hostage by the Death Eaters causing him to be tempted to hand it over save for the fact that he was stubborn and even Neville hadn't wanted to give the enemy any help. Then the Order of the Phoenix had come to the rescue to even the odds in the teenagers' favor. There had been confusion as flashes of light and movement had taken over. It had happened as if in slow motion when Harry saw his godfather hit with a spell and fall backwards into the veil. He'd felt someone grab for him, but his sleeve had slipped out of the grasp as he'd instinctively as well as impulsively ran for his godfather. Harry barely heard his name being called out as everything went black and he couldn't see.
Which led him to his current situation of chasing after the man he would gladly would have been living with if it hadn't been for Fudge and Snape! It was as if Sirius was deaf and unable to hear him calling out to him, pleading for him to stop, to turn around! All around him smokey indiscernible shapes began to form into people who were walking the platforms and the more that the teenager focused on them, the more solid they appeared to be; gaining a bit of color even if it was severely washed out. At the same time the more indistinct his surroundings became and he lost where Sirius had disappeared to.
Something, some deep instinct perhaps told him that he had to make sure he kept his focus on the important things, to discard everything else, and let it flow around and away from him. It worked as he made sure to remember that his name was Harry, he was here for his godfather. Narrowing his eyes he caught a flicker of movement that was different than those around him. Where Sirius' wavering form had been was the one that he had been first introduced to when he was thirteen. At the same time the dog began to trot faster and Harry had to sprint to try and keep up with him.
Padfoot had trotted into the station and disappeared behind one of the open doors that was slowly swinging closed. Harry nearly ran smack into the door in his mad dash to get there before it shut completely. When he pushed it open, he hadn't expected it to be so full of people which caused him once again to lose where the dog had sidled off to. Those that were just loitering and lingering about were forming lines and stepping through the many doors. There was something about that, the many doors that seemed to be wrong; there were too many! In fact, the station itself seemed bigger than it had upon first glance when he was out on the platform.
Stepping closer to one of the strange doors he saw that it was just like the rest of this place. The more he concentrated on it, it came into sharper focus and gained color. The teenager hesitated when he was standing in from of the rectangular bronze door with its strange silver and copper twined snake handle. Even though the shades behind him weren't actually making any noise -which was again something Harry belatedly realized was something he should know was wrong- he got the sense that they wanted him to move aside or go through the door. Perhaps it was the way they were moving in an agitated manner that gave him that idea. Whatever it was, Harry decided to step well away from the door and as he did so the door drained of color and began to grow fuzzy as if he wasn't wearing his glasses. Frowning, the teen looked around and wondered, 'Why am I here?'
'To choose a door.' Well, of course he was here to choose a door! But there was something else that was nagging at him and wouldn't let him be. There was something he was forgetting. It was like when one left the house and wasn't sure if they'd left the toaster plugged in. A chance glance was what saved him and had him recall that he'd been chasing a dog. Said dog was disappearing through an open green door with a brass doorknob in the middle of it. Running in that direction, Harry was glad that there wasn't a line and he was through the door before he could blink.
Once inside and the door had closed behind him he once again engulfed in complete blackness, or so he thought. As he slowly stepped further into the room it slowly gained a greyishness much like the train station had. The only difference was that here, there were no other people. Or at least none that the teen could see. He felt his eyes widen when he realized that the source of the a soft light that enabled him to see around him, was coming from where he was standing. Taking a few steps further into the room and discovering the light moved with him another realization dawned on him. The light wasn't following him or coming from anywhere but emitting from him! Lifting a hand he saw that there was a soft glow coming from beneath his skin and he might not as well have been wearing clothing as it went straight through the cloth and denim. It entranced him and wasn't sure how much time had passed before he stopped staring at himself and became aware of other lights further in the dark space.
Striding over and seeing someone else that was glowing, he opened his mouth to ask where he was but halted when the other was doing the same. Furrowing his brows, he drew nearer and then was once again mesmerized. For he was staring at his reflection. Or he assumed it was. Like the doors, there was something different about his reflection that he just couldn't but his finger on. Yet, he knew that it wasn't an actual representation of him. Moving on to the next one it took him a moment but he finally found what had made him pause. This reflection didn't have the scar on his forehead that had set him apart from everyone else. Reaching up, his index finger found the raised flesh. Tracing it he found it strange that he had almost forgotten about it.
So it went as he slowly made his way further into the room and encountered more strange mirrors that showed his reflection but with slight and subtle alterations. He'd been turned around a time or two as well in order to see them all before that urgency nagged at him once again. It took his attention away from the latest mirror which he had been scouring to try and find the difference. It had been taking him longer and longer and was beginning to forget what his true form looked like. It wasn't as if he had taken the time to 'admire' himself when he was either at school or in his room for the summer. In fact, those memories too were harder to dredge up when he tried to think about them.
There were two lights ahead of him: one of a soft radiance like the one he was nose used to that was coming from himself and were reflected from the mirrors. The other was brighter and seemed more natural having a yellowish cast to it. The latter one was the one that he gravitated towards. The closer he stepped into the light the warmer he got. Raising an arm to block out the glare, he realized that if felt and seemed like sunlight! Yes, it was the sun, because there was a brief stirring of air that took some of the heat away. Taking a deep breath, he could smell green having been well acquainted with how plants and earth smelled during his lifetime. Shutting his eyes he felt his lips turn up into a smile as he enjoyed the sensation of the sunlight on him; warming him from the inside out.
Opening his eyes after a time he was almost disappointed to see what he believed to be another mirror. Granted, this one was rather larger than average and quite round rather than rectangular. Almost looking like a window without it's frame. Reaching out to brush his hand across the surface the teen was quite surprised when he didn't encounter the cool feeling of glass beneath his palm. The surface had give to it, much like a solidified gel substance. If he had to name it, it almost seemed like jell-O. Pushing his hand against the mirror he was fascinated to his hand go through it! Quickly he pulled it out and stared at his hand. It looked the same as when it had gone in and even retained the glow which for some reason, relieved him. Placing his hand once more upon the strange surface, he pushed again and this time brought up his other hand to do the same. Slowly he found that he didn't have to push so much as the mirror was now sucking him in! Instead of panicking and trying to free himself from the mirror, he relaxed and let it pull him through and out the other side where he near stumbled.
Blinking, he looked around and had to rub his eyes to be sure that what he was seeing was real. All around him was sand, though he could see a forest in front of him a bit away. Behind him lay the sea and he had completely forgotten he'd steeped through a mirror as he went to squat by the water's edge. He inhaled the brine smell and smiled as he let the cool water lap at his feet. His toes curled into the wet sand and enjoyed the sensation as something told him he'd never gotten to play at or been on a beach before. It never crossed his mind that he shouldn't have been able to feel the sand as he'd last had on shoes! What occupied his mind was how fun it was to run along the shore, jumping and splashing in the water as one would a rain puddle. He laughed, having fun and not minding in the slightest the salt water that splashed the rest of him as he played. He'd only stopped when he saw something white in the sand. Squatting, he reached down and picked up the strange looking shell. He turned it this way and that, sad that the back was broken a bit, but quite happy the rest of it was intact. The front looked like there was a flower impression that someone had carved in it. Using the sea to rinse all the sand clinging to it away, he kept his new find as he stood and decided to head towards the forest.
It hadn't taken him long to travel from the beach to the forest and feeling a sense of familiarity when he looked up at the tall trees. He'd been in a forest before, that he knew, but he couldn't recall the exact details. Just remembered that they had been exciting as well as scary. Looking around this particular forest, he didn't get scared, and enjoyed how the sun could been seen and felt through the leafy canopy. This was where he was supposed to be, he could feel it. Here was where he was supposed to wait because this was where he would be found. Traversing the wood was something he dearly wished to do, but didn't want to miss the one he was here for. Glancing over his shoulder back towards the shore, he almost heeded the allure of it to play. If he had, he would have missed the pair of dark eyes watching him from a felled tree. As it was, he heard a branch crack and snapped his head back around to see the form of a giant scraggly dark wolf padding closer to him.
While part of him was more curious than afraid, his heart still beat quicker and he clutched his prize from the shore closer to his chest. Feeling the wind that he had enjoyed back on the shore as it brought the scent of the sea to him, now tickled his hair as it blew in the direction of the advancing wolf. The slowed it's approach as it took in the scents the wind carried to it, halted for a brief moment as it recognized that scent, and charged towards the teen. Harry gave a yelp when he was pounced and had his face unceremoniously licked all over causing him to make a face then laugh. Pushing the black furry face away from his when he got enough breath to breathe, begged, "Stop."
The wolf did so but still looked eagerly down at the boy happiness radiating off of it's body language and shining in his eyes. For his part, the teen threw his arms around the neck of the creature, mindful of his shell as not to break it, nuzzled into the black fur. This was whom he was supposed to meet here. "Padfoot," he breathed feeling himself relaxing completely now that he had found his companion. The pressing need to leave the shore and come to the trees had slacked as well causing him further ease. That was until his stomach rumbled causing him to huff and Padfoot to lick his ear which had him immediately releasing the furry neck he'd been latched to.
The canine got up and started to trot back into the depths of the woods and when the boy went to follow, he was promptly pushed to the ground by Padfoot's head. He softly growled at Harry and when the boy seemed to get the hint he was to stay put, the wolf turned, ran, and disappeared into the thick foliage. Padfoot ran through the forest following his nose, his entire being in the mode of predator as he hunted. One ear twitched as it heard something causing him to go from a trot to a standstill. Both ears swiveled as it heard the disturbance once again. His sharp eyes caught the subtle movement making him drop down to crouch on his belly before he lunged and started running on his powerful legs. The hare had caught his movement and tried to run. Padfoot chased it nearly taking a tumble as it jack rabbited about and backtracked the way he'd come, but he was able to pounce and get it. It still tried to run injured as it was, but he was able to kill it. Taking it by the head he trotted victoriously back to where he'd left his boy.
It seemed in his absence, the teen had scrounged about the area he was instructed to stay and had found some edible plants that he was nibbling on to sate himself until Padfoot had come back. He looked guiltily at the wolf before giving an abashed shrug. Dropping the dead hare at the boy's feet he gazed at him expectantly. His boy dropped into a crouch and poked at what was supposed to be his supper. Looking up, he smiled and thanked the wolf before standing and heading back towards the shore. Confused, Padfoot picked up the hare but then stopped and sat on his haunches when it was the boy who told him to stay. Watching closely, he saw when the teen had bent finding whatever he was looking for and came back with a triumphant smile. In his hand that wasn't holding the sand dollar was a rock.
Soon, the boy had his hands full -having set his treasure aside to be able to use both hands- with the hare. He'd used the jagged edge of the rock to skin the animal after using an opening where Padfoot's teeth had made punctures to start. It was messy and not a very skillfully done, but it got the job done. Wit it no longer having a skin, the boy looked at it as if he wasn't sure what to do next. His eyes traveled around the forest before his body seemed to deflate. He confessed, "I don't know hot to start a fire."
Padfoot didn't see what the fuss was about and nudged the meat towards the boy and when he just looked form it to the wolf and back again, he hugged. It seemed the growling of his stomach made the boy's mind up. Slowly he reached for the hare and using his rock, cut off a piece of meat and then with his eyes scrunched closed, popped the small piece into his mouth and chewed. Padfoot laughed in the way that canines do as he watched the teen's antics. Bit by bit the hare disappeared into his stomach which satisfied Padfoot's need to take care of his boy. While he was busy slicing pieces of meat off to eat, Padfoot went back into the woods to hunt his own meal.
Chapter 2: The Drughu
Chapter by Nobody Tosses a Dwarf (Madhattarproductions)
Summary:
Sorry my chapters are so short but I thought with shorter chapters it would be faster/easier to update. Plus this story was in bits and I'm piecing them together. Some chapters might be shorter and others longer.
Chapter Text
Their first day was rather difficult until they could find and fall into a pattern.
Knowing better than to drink salt water, the boy only used it to wash the sticky blood off his hands after having eaten all that he could of the hare. Despite how thirsty he was he refrained from trying to slack it until there was a better source of water. He and Padfoot had wandered about, Harry enjoying the creatures they came across. A squirrel had crossed their path running from another squirrel which was chasing it. The boy laughed as he watched them run around the trunk of a tree until the pursued squirrel decided to start branch hopping. He soon lost sight of them and paid more attention to where he was walking when he'd almost tripped over a root and fell. Padfoot had huffed at him.
The dried up salt on Harry's skin was beginning to bother him and he would shift from one foot to the other as he used the free one to try and scratch at the back of his calves. His shell kept switching from one hand to the other as he made his forearms red from scratching. He whined in discomfort. Padfoot quickly led the boy to a trickling stream that he could hear. Both drank greedily from the water and Harry was happy to finally be relieved of the itchy sensations.
Then came the problem of when Harry had to relieve himself but couldn't ever remembering have done it outside before. Padfoot wasn't any help as the wolf seemed to be equal parts amused and exasperated with him. The canine went and butted his head against the boy's chest, pushing him back until he was near a tree and huffed at him. When the teen couldn't hold it any longer he finally succumbed to getting as near to the tree as he could. Padfoot laughed in a canine way when the boy told him to, 'not look'. It was with only slight hesitation that Harry dumped dirt, leaves, and such where he'd gone to cover it up.
Throughout the day they explored the woods completely curious about their surroundings. Harry stayed close to Padfoot not straying that far away as he felt safe with the canine. The boy found berries and flowers to eat while they traveled. They did stay close to their water source however and as the sun was descending Padfoot them a place to sleep. There were a few trees whose roots had not only grown close together but also pushed outward seeking room to spread and grow which created large pockets of empty space. Harry had to quickly back up to keep himself from being hit with flying dirt, moss, and grass as Padfoot dug and widened out one such pocket to make into a den. The teen watched his companion turn and then lay down and place his head upon his forelegs, eyes locked on the boy. Looking around see no other alternative, Harry very carefully placed his shell where it wouldn't get broken accidentally and set his sharp stone aside as well before curling up next to the wolf.
What the boy hadn't known and Padfoot was trying to keep from him from noticing for now, was that they were not alone in the forest. His keen nose had smelled a strange scent in the forest. While it smelled much like other inhabitants of the forest, it had a smell he hadn't ever smelt before. Padfoot kept his senses open, shifting out the sounds of his boy who kept moving about to try and get comfortable. He had to give a couple warning growls because of an elbow or knee jutting into his sides or stomach. Harry gave a petulant, "Sorry, but you're too hot! And I can't get comfortable." Eventually, he was able to fall asleep and even burrowed closer to his source of warmth as the the night fell.
The wolf kept guard as the child slept not shutting his own eyes until he was sure that whomever was watching had retreated. Even then, Padfoot slept light to awaken at the slightest hint or perceived danger to either himself or Harry. It was with hesitance that he left the teen sleeping as he went to go hunt for their breakfast. While out hunting he was on the alert for that strange scent that had lingered about. This was how it went for a few days until the routine was broken. He'd just rousted a rabbit when his hunt was cut off early due to hearing his boy scream. Rushing back to where he'd left him, he picked up the scent that lingered but hadn't approached them. There was a growl deep in his throat as he burst forth to see a stranger near Harry.
Harry had woken with a yawn and looked around for Padfoot, bolting straight up when he noticed the lack of the black furred canine. He was used to seeing him if not besides him, at least within sight of the den. "Padfoot?"
Crawling out of the den, he looked around thinking maybe he had to go pee, something that he seemed to share. Usually after they ate, and Harry washed in the stream, the two would wander the forest. Sometimes they would race each other which Padfoot always won. Harry would clamber around the trees, branches that he could reach he would sometimes hang from and see if he could spy any squirrel or bird nests. Other times as they were walking he would pull a blade of grass, hold each edge as he brought it to his mouth and would blow to cause a whistle sound. These things entertained the boy. And yet other times still they would return to the shore for a bit for the boy to play either amongst the waves or trying to build a woefully inaccurate wolf sculpture.
After drinking from the stream, he looked around again, fear starting to cause his heart to beat harder against his chest. He called out a bit louder, hoping that he'd see the wolf come through the foliage as he had before. "Padfoot?"
Stepping closer to where he thought he'd seen some berries last night, Harry went to go pick some from the bush. His hand was snatched causing the boy to let out a started scream. It had been more from shock rather than genuine terror having not expected anyone else to be around save Padfoot. The owner of the hand stepped through letting go of Harry's wrist causing him to land backwards on his butt. Scrambling away a bit he blinked up at the man as he took in the odd appearance. The man's body was squat and had short legs and a heavy brow. To Harry it looked as if he had run into a tree or rock wall with his squashed flat nose. He didn't have much hair but what he did have was as dark as Harry's own. The man's eyes though were as dark as his hair. The only thing Harry could think of was that the man looked tribal with his grass skirt.
The man said something which Harry didn't understand, but he was pointing to the berries that he'd been reaching for. From the expression on the man's face he hadn't wanted him to pick them. Tilting his head in confusion, the boy replied, "I don't understand?"
Standing, he saw that he was just a bit shorter than the man who wasn't a very impressive height. The man seemed to consider him then when he next spoke Harry was happy to understand him. "Don't pick. Poison."
"Oh." So those weren't good berries to eat then. It was a good thing he hadn't tried them before! It would have been awful if he'd eaten them and gotten sick. He didn't think Padfoot would be too happy with him either if he'd made that mistake. "Thank you."
Before much else could be said, they both heard growling and Harry's eyes widened when Padfoot was suddenly there, snarling. Seeing the man going to pull a flute from his belt, Harry didn't think that music would sooth the wolf who had come because he'd heard Harry scream. The teen ran at Padfoot getting in the way as the wolf went to lunge at the man. Grabbing at the black fur he shouted, "No! Padfoot, stop! Oof!" The breath was driven from him as he and the wolf collided when Padfoot had tried to stop and twist mid jump to try and avoid the boy. They both ended up ungracefully on the ground, Harry more so than Padfoot.
As he looked up from his position on the ground Harry saw that what he had first thought was a flute was actually a weapon! "NO!" He called out pleading. "Padfoot's a friend."
"He warg!" The man's eyes were a reddish color while Padfoot hadn't stopped his menacing growling and took a protective stance over the boy.
"He's Padfoot! Not a warg!" Harry declared stubbornly not knowing what a warg was, while he grabbed up at his friend's fur. "Padfoot, it's okay. He only stopped me from eating those poison berries. I'm okay. It's okay."
The man was looking between boy and wolf as Harry continued to pet Padfoot where he could reach and slowly slid himself up to a sitting position. Soon he was standing and pressed his face into the fur. He could feel the vibration of the growl through Padfoot's ribs. Harry kept his back to the blow pipe man knowing that Padfoot could break out of the teen's hold if he really wanted to. He didn't want his only friend to be shot but didn't want the wolf to attack the man who had kept him from being sick.
When Harry turned around it was only when the wolf had quit making the vicious sounds he'd been making and the muscles relaxed slightly which caused the boy to breathe in relief. Turning around but keeping a hand curled in Padfoot's thick fur, he saw that the man's eyes had faded back to black and the wooden weapon was tucked back into his belt. He said something in that language Harry didn't understand before pausing and haltingly stated, "Never saw a tame warg."
Somehow knowing that Padfoot didn't like being called tame had the teen quickly ask, "What's a warg?"
"That is warg," the man said pointing to Padfoot which confused the other two.
'Maybe warg is their word for wolf?' Harry wondered. Aloud he stated, "He's my friend."
The man looked dubiously at him but seeing as the wolf hadn't tried to attack the boy and seemed to have only targeted whom was a perceived danger to the child. Seeing as the wolf appeared to be behaving itself, the man laughed at having seen a tame warg. Or as close to one as they were likely to get. Then again, the boy looked not at all tame himself. That was one of the reason he'd approached and warned the wild looking boy.
"Come, eat food not poisoned."
Unsure, still not knowing who the man was had Harry look to Padfoot for guidance. The wolf was no help leaving the matter entirely up to the boy. Swallowing, Harry nodded and thought that something other than raw rabbit would be good to go with the fruit, nuts, and greens he would pluck. Seeing him nod, the man smiled which changed his face entirely and gestured for the odd due to follow him. Padfoot was going to start forward only after the man had but Harry called out, "Wait! My shell!"
Turning away, the teen ran back to the temporary shelter that he and Padfoot had been sharing to sleep. Taking up his shell, he smiled and felt a bit better as he retook a hold in the wolf's fur with his free hand. As they walked the man told Harry that he and his people had been watching the boy and the warg when they had detected a new presence in their forest. They had been watching wondering if the boy had been a child of the woodmen who had gotten lost. That was until they had seen the boy with the warg whom they had almost killed. The man would only emphasize that the reason was because Padfoot was a warg whenever Harry asked why. The man's people he found were called the Drughu but had a different name depending on who spoke of them: Drughu, Wild Men, Woses, Drúadain. That confused Harry especially when he found out about others hunting the man's people.
Furrowing his brow, Harry had wanted to ask who and why but at Padfoot's body leaning into his warned him against such questions. Pouting, he soon forgot his questions though when the man stated that Harry could pass for a wildling himself. It wasn't until they were at the man's village that it became obvious of something the teen had overlooked when he'd taken notice of the man's grass skirt; Harry was completely naked. It hadn't bothered him when he'd been by the sea, running about the forest, nor even here exactly. It wasn't as if his nakedness was the most odd thing to attract the villagers attention. That honor lay with Padfoot whom everyone was staring at with varying degrees of either shock, agitation, or even anger. Harry pressed further into Padfoot's side while the wolf was doing his best not to snarl at the people.
The duo were introduced to the chieftain and were offered temporary shelter after Harry had explained that neither he nor Padfoot meant them harm. It had distressed the boy at first when it took him a minute longer than it should have to drudge up his own name. It shouldn't have been that shocking though seeing as he didn't call himself by his own name when thinking. Nor could Padfoot say his name and as there hadn't been anyone else to talk to before it was something he just didn't think of. The unease passed quickly however as the chieftain moved on from that subject as well as after having gotten his answers about if there were any others coming from the shore and if so how many. The duo didn't see the chieftain again after he'd gotten Harry's promise that Padfoot would not harm any of the Drughu while they stayed there.
It was with the Drughu that Harry learned how to make a proper stone knife. He'd felt his cheeks warm learning that he'd made a mess of choosing a proper rock back on the beach. It had done its job though, so he supposed that he couldn't feel too bad about it. They taught him about what was edible in the forest and would continue to do so as the months turned cold. Padfoot still went hunting and at least now after being taught, Harry could actually properly clean and cook his kill. That had turned out to be another lesson of patience when learning how to make fire. Along the way, Harry learned the Púkel language which was what the Drughu spoke. It seemed only a very few of them knew Westron which apparently was what Harry had been speaking.
There were other tricks that the people taught him and in return he and Padfoot would help any way they could. One of the duties that he and Padfoot had were to help with making sure that others didn't encroach into their wood.
"Elves?" Harry murmured to Padfoot as they walked along the border of the hidden camp. They had learned their new friends didn't want to cross the river they called the Baranduin. Something about elves being on the other side. It just showed that they knew next to nothing of this place despite having lived with the Drughu throughout the late summer and autumn months. While Harry was having fun and learning all kinds of practical things and even had a blow pipe of his own, he was beginning to get anxious. He could see that Padfoot was as well. They both wanted to run and explore further afield than these woods.
The Drughu hadn't seemed too keen on talking about the elves nor of the horsemen that plagued the other tribes to the east. Yet, they could tell that the boy and wolf were eager to be off. The duo were talked into wintering with their friends and setting off in the spring. It would give Harry a chance to learn to survive int he colder months. When the thaw happened and spring was once again upon the land, the Drughu tried to get the boy to stay, but he needed to leave and head north.
Parting on good terms with the people, the boy knew he'd miss them but he couldn't help the large grin that crossed his face as he and Padfoot raced through the woods towards where the river was. Adorned in a pair of breeches -in case he ran into other folk- and with a satchel that held his few meager but treasured possession as well as provisions, the teen slowed when they neared the forest's end. Once in the open plains, he and Padfoot made for the river, using it as a guide as they followed it. The Drughu didn't have a map to give them, but had told them about the different direction and what lay in them, that they knew of. Whichever they decided, they knew that following the river for some time would be the best option. When they came upon a road they could decide from there where they would like to go.
They were cautioned though to be wary of men and elves. Harry had given his promise that he and Padfoot would be wary and on guard.
"Well, we know what's to the west, the north, sort of. What do you think is in the east?" Harry wondered from where he was lazing atop Padfoot as the wolf slowly walked along the river's edge. The teen was happy that the wolf was large enough for him to ride and didn't mind it. "I know that the Drughu said the horsemen were that way but that was more of a south-east direction."
Harry was almost tempted to go that way because since he'd heard the term, 'horsemen' he'd wondered if that meant they were half horse and half men. That was something he didn't ask about though, fearing to be laughed at if he was wrong. It likely meant men that rode horses much like he was riding Padfoot.
"You think we should go that way once we get to the crossroads? They did say there were mountains to the east." There were some across the river in a more south-west direction meaning that he and Padfoot would have to backtrack after crossing the river. That was something he didn't think Padfoot would want to do either. That way lay the elves and men the Drughu warned them about though. Those that had come to cut down their trees to make boats to go across the sea to never be seen again.
Padfoot tried to buck the teen off causing Harry to laugh and give in saying, "Okay, okay. We'll wait and see."
Chapter 3: First Encounters
Chapter Text
While Harry had promised to be careful of anyone that he or Padfoot met, it had been days and neither of them had noticed any evidence of people. At least there hadn't been any that they had come across as they traveled keeping the river to their left. The fact that they hadn't seen anyone didn't bother either one of them as they were enjoying their wanderings, not in a rush to get anywhere despite how anxious they had been to leave Eryn Vorn. It was a pleasant leisurely trip with Harry being able to contribute to their meals by fishing. He had been thrilled to learn how to fish using either a stick to spear them or a vine and a bone hook for when he was on the move. The latter was what he had coiled up in his satchel. If they were to set up camp for awhile with a source of water full of fish, Harry knew how to build a wooden trap for them to collect fish too. Since he had learned to make a fire he had a much more enjoyable experience when it was time to eat his catch. The same when it came to hares caught in the snares that he had been taught to make. Padfoot had been insulted when the teen had proudly showed him the first hare he'd snared. It seemed the wolf felt as if Harry didn't think he was providing for him.
When Padfoot tripped him, Harry thought he was showing his displeasure at him. It hadn't helped that the wolf was growling at him albeit it wasn't his usual aggressive sounding one. Not until the boy saw Padfoot bow down with his front paws extended, tail wagging, before darting away then coming close to nip at his heels that Harry realized, “You're playing with me!”
Padfoot gave a sound that could only be in agreement having heeded his more mischievous side. The boy grinned, gave chase, and laughed as Padfoot would dodge him, trip him up, and take off again. The two would play when they wanted a break from running or walking northward. A time or they even played with the skin of a hare that the wolf had rousted. At night they would curl up together with Padfoot keeping guard until the faintest rays of light began to rise from the sun when he would sleep until Harry would wake him anxious to get moving again. Not that the boy wasn't adverse to just taking a day to themselves without progressing any further along the river's path. The duo continued in this way for days unsure exactly how long it was as neither were keeping track of time. For them it was just: eating time, play time, walking time, resting time, make camp for the night time. And of course there were times they had hunting and fishing time.
Neither had really thought too hard about what they would do once they reached an actual road let alone a ford. The two had paused because they could see the stone that indicated the place where they should be able to cross however the water was rather high due to it being spring. They could attempt to cross it and take the road they saw going west, or avoid it and stay on the east side of the river and follow the road going south-east. Their third choice was to just continue north following the river as they had been. However even in the dusk light darkening to night the duo could see that the river bent to the west.
“How about it, Padfoot? Which direction to you fancy?” Harry looked in all three directions then to the wolf who seemed to be doing the same to determine which was the best to go. Soon it would be time for them to stop for the night and wait for the daylight to continue their journey. Padfoot's head lifted though and it seemed as if he was sniffing, trying to take in as much and as many scents from the air as he possibly could. The fur on the wolf bristled as his lips drew back in a snarl, a deep threatening growl in his throat that caused Harry to whip his head in the direction Padfoot had alerted towards.
It was across the ford. Squinting his eyes, the boy tried to see what had alarmed his friend. “What is it?” he whispered in case they couldn't hear if they hadn't seen him.
A whistling sound answered him and a -thunk- into the earth just missing the side of his throat. Feeling his eyes widen as fear caused his heart to beat quicker in his chest seeing that someone had fired an arrow at him! He heard someone shout and Padfoot made the sound he did when he wanted the boy to climb atop him. Harry didn't hesitate as he grabbed the wolf's fur as he jumped and held on flattening himself against Padfoot's back as the wolf turned and sped quickly away from the ford running south-east. Before they had turned, Harry had caught a glimpse of their attackers. They were taller then the Drughu and cloaked. They tried to run after the fleeing duo the whistling sound indicating more arrows had been fired. Padfoot zigzagged as he ran and Harry kept himself flat, head down by the wolf's neck and tried to keep his fear in check but he couldn't help that he shook a little as some of the arrows came too close! Even when Padfoot had to slow down, he continued to trot for a good while before slowing to a walk.
Eventually they came upon a road on their left side. If there were roads, that meant people, and people meant settlements. Which might mean more arrows headed their way from whomever else they crossed paths with before they could explain that neither he nor Padfoot were there to attack. While the Drughu had been wary of the wolf, they had eventually warmed up to the canine seeing that Padfoot wouldn't harm anyone as long as they meant no hurt to Harry. Padfoot had even helped out in tracking lessons for the youngsters which Harry had been a part of. As neither boy nor wolf wanted to encounter anyone else at the moment, they moved further away until only Padfoot's keen eyes could see the road.
They stopped to rest and Harry slipped off Padfoot's back, pulled out the water skin and bag of venison from his satchel so that Padfoot could have a drink and some food without having to go off and hunt. After the wolf had eaten the meat, Harry squeezed out some water into his hand and had to bite his lip to keep from laughing at the tickling sensation of the wolf's tongue against his palm and fingers. When he'd had his fill he licked Harry's face causing the boy to scrunch his face up. “Ewwww, Padfoot!”
Wiping his face with the back of his hand and wrist, Harry then wiped it off on his breeches while Padfoot lolled his tongue in laughter as he sat then lay down. Harry replaced both the water and venison into his satchel before sitting down next to his friend. Frowning he wondered, 'Why do you think they shot at us? We didn't do anything!”
Padfoot huffed then gently grabbed the boy's arm in his mouth and gave a tug, clearly stating he thought he should lay down as well. Without resisting, Harry let himself fall backwards and after his arm was let go, used Padfoot as a pillow. Pulling the satchel to where it was on his chest, he clutched it and sighed. He wondered if they would get that reaction everywhere they went? Was this because Padfoot was a wolf? Would they have no choice but to return to the forest to keep from getting attacked? They wouldn't get much exploring done that way. Harry didn't want to go back just yet. Someday maybe, but something in him wanted to keep going and he was sure that that same urge was in Padfoot. Had those archers been men or elves? Which were more dangerous?
“Ewww! Stop doing that!” Padfoot had licked the boy's ear knowing he was thinking and worrying when he was supposed to be resting and trying to sleep. Harry wiped his ear and pouted knowing exactly why he got licked this time. While he didn't mind the occasional lick here or there, he minded when it was his ears! He got the point though and sighing one again, decided to push those thoughts aside and heed Padfoot and try to sleep while they could knowing that the wolf would likely get them moving earlier than usual.
As close as they were to the road, there was no play time while the duo traveled. Harry stayed close to the wolf and when motioned, stayed put. It was both with dread and relief for the boy when they came upon another river ahead of them. Where the river and road crossed was a city and to be prepared in case the city came with people, Harry rode astride Padfoot as they warily made their way towards the structures. From the outside it was quiet and looked abandoned but both had their ears straining for any sounds with Padfoot trying to pick up any fresh scents. The duo had been lucky when they'd come to the ford with night encroaching but now, now it was mid-afternoon and they would be clearly visible to any and all.
Swallowing nervously, Harry's head swiveled as he looked about them and despite the city seeming deserted, didn't relax until he'd felt the muscles beneath him loosen up and felt the familiar shoulder wiggle of Padfoot. Obeying the wolf, he slipped off Padfoot's back but stayed close with one hand latched to the other's fur as they walked. The city was in shambles and there was evidence that the river had flooded it at one point.
They only stayed in the abandoned city long enough for Padfoot to hunt them some meat that the boy cut into thin pieces, used part of the salt they'd been given rubbed into it to help season and preserve it, and hung to make jerky. It took 3 days for it to cure and once it was all dried out, Harry packed it up and they left the city. Padfoot had gone each day to scout to make sure that those archers hadn't been following them. So far it seemed that they hadn't, but neither boy nor wolf wanted to press their luck and find out if they were wrong. Harry was happy to move on as he hadn't been able to scrounge anything from the place nor had it been that interesting. Just in case, Padfoot led him to some marshland that they crossed. Harry happily saw swans and didn't question that he knew what the birds were even if he'd never seen one before. He pretended he didn't see Padfoot decide to try and chase one down either for play or dinner, the boy wasn't sure. He had been amused though when the wolf came back empty mouthed and a bit damp.
In the distance he could see mountains with snow on them. He wanted to ask if that was where they were headed, but id didn't seem Padfoot wanted to stay very long in the marshes, wanting to cross them as quickly as possible. That didn't mean that he rushed them through. The wolf was very careful and had made sure that his boy didn't stray anywhere that Padfoot himself hadn't already trod. A quick unexpected dip had learned Harry real quick to not stray. Three days had almost passed before they were out of the marshes because of the pace that Padfoot had set to get them safely across. Once out they followed the water as that seemed the safest course as it was also far away from the road. When the river split ways, they had to stay on the one that flowed to the right as that was the side they were on and didn't fancy swimming. It led to the mountains.
At the base, Harry stared up, up, up to the top of the snow capped peak. His mouth opened, not having realized just how big it was. The mountain ranged far to the north and south. It would take them ages to try and go around it, if they even could. From where they were, it looked as if the mountain range went on forever in both directions. As they started up the mountain, Harry was quite glad that he'd kept the hide from the stag that Padfoot had downed back near the city. He was also happy that he'd gotten better at skinning hides as he was able to wrap the fur around him not having butchered the skin. What he soon discovered however, was that maybe he should have tried to make some foot wraps. While his grass stained feet had become calloused from always being bare foot and having his feet free helped him for better purchase, at times it hindered him and caused him to slip just as much. There were some difficult parts of the mountain where the only way up was for him to ride Padfoot as the nimble wolf climbed surefooted.
It didn't take them long however to realize that they had erred and should never have strayed up the mountain. No matter how long it took, they should have gone the long way around. Their second day they had been taken unawares even with Padfoot's superior sense of smell and hearing. They had been set upon by creatures that would plague Harry with nightmares for some time. The first attack was an arrow that pierced through the animal cloak that Harry was wearing grazing his arm. He'd let out a startled and pained shout, which had Padfoot snarling in anger as he lunged at the nearest creature, tackling it as he went for the throat. Terrified as he was, adrenaline rushed through the boy as he ducked behind a rock cropping to pull his blow pipe from the satchel along with his bag of darts. Quickly, he fed one into the tube and peered over his barrier, found a target and blew as he'd been taught. It might as well have been a mosquito bite fro all the good it did. It had caused attention to be drawn to him, a goblin heading his way even as Harry was behind his boulder reloading his blow pipe. Harry peered up over the rock and had to quickly throw himself backwards to keep his head from being cleaved open. Scrambling backwards, he grabbed and pulled his knife despite how his hand was shaking. Hearing a pained whimper come from Padfoot caused his fear to heighten but it also ignited a flame of anger. Letting out an angry yell, he ran towards the goblin ducking down low and forwards into the creature's space. Using both hands, he shoved his arms out and up into the underside of the surprised goblin's jaw where it connected to it's neck. It stumbled backwards with a screech, black blood spurting from the wound. It tried to run only to be finished off by Padfoot. Breathing hard, Harry saw that the other were either dead or had fled.
Fleeing sounded like a good idea which both Padfoot and Harry did, making their way quickly back down the mountain. Going down was much easier than going up it had been especially when the duo lost their footing a time or two and ended up tumbling a little ways. They didn't stop until they were off the mountain and back near the river. There, they washed their wounds and Harry applied poultices. Of course Padfoot had been stubborn and snapped his jaws at the boy when he'd tried to tend to the wolf first. He would only let Harry tend him after the boy had seen to himself first. As he did so he knew that he'd have to find a way to thank the Drughu for their thoroughness when they had packed his satchel with supplies as well as when they had insisted that he learn how to tend to wounds.
That night Harry didn't sleep knowing what would be visiting him but also because of the howling of wolves. If they were as huge as Padfoot, the boy didn't want to end up meeting them. Not if they were as mean and vicious as those goblins had been. As everything seemed to be here that they had encountered since they left the Drughu and their forest behind. Just in case, Harry had built a huge bonfire and had the forethought to make torches and drove them into the ground in a wide circle that encompassed the bonfire as a deterrent. It hadn't crossed his mind that they might not be afraid of fire just as Padfoot wasn't. Thankfully, none came nearer than the perimeter. All the same, as soon as it was clear the wolves had left for easier pickings and the beginning of daylight started to lighten the sky, the two began walking back along the river's path the way they had come.
“Well, either we keep backtracking to the city and follow the river north-east,” Harry stated as they walked. He pointed westward, “Or we meander back that way to the road and take it south wherever it leads.”
Padfoot butted his head against the boy's side, clearly wanting to know what Harry thought. Gnawing on his lip, he looked both directions and shivered. “I say we follow the river.”
On the road the only danger they might have is men, but they hadn't encountered anything along the river. They should be fine as long as they didn't come across anymore fords. Seeing as Padfoot didn't try and herd him westwards and had made a sound he'd come to recognize as agreement, Harry felt a bit of tension leave him. It didn't seem Padfoot was too eager to run into anything else be it man or nasty creatures either!
Chapter 4: Second Encounters & First Impressions
Notes:
I sorta imagine that Harry's hair at this point would be shaggy and a bit like it was in the fourth HP movie Goblet of Fire.
Chapter Text
The Rangers had been taken by surprise when they saw the black warg. While they were used to keeping the darker things from the inhabitants of the land as was their custom, it wasn't any easier to get used to. Those that were stationed in this particular area of Eriador at this time had tensed upon seeing the lone warg yet were no less ready to put hands on their bows and knocking arrows, ready to let them fly. They did so when it appeared as if it would attempt to enter the Shire. Wargs didn't travel alone whether it be with another warg in their packs or in pairs with riders astride them.
The Rangers were of a suspicious nature especially when it came to being coming from or going eastward. They had been on the lookout for anything odd since Mount Doom had erupted into flame once again. The Dúnedain couldn't chance another occurrence that had happened during the Fell Winter with the white wargs of the north. Before they could loose their arrows and kill the beast, it scented them and ran accompanied by a rider! Unfortunately, none of their arrows were true and failed to find their mark.
A message was sent to inform their Chief about the sighting. A few went to track the beast as soon as it was light enough to do so, while the rest remained at their post until they were relieved to travel and continue to protect the rest of Eriador. Those that followed the warg's tracks that ran almost parallel with the North-South road seeming as if they were traversing to Tharbad. The rider had gotten off the warg at points and the footprints confused the Rangers as they weren't prints that would be left behind by a goblin. In Tharbad they found evidence of days old fire which only could have come from the warg rider that they hadn't gotten a good look at back at the ford.
Rather than going through the Swanfleet they went around, following the Glanduin noting when the tracks picked back up again. All signs pointed towards the Misty Mountains. They believed that the warg and it's rider would be traversing the mountain path eastwards. The Rangers had thought to go as far as the mountain range before sending off another message. They hadn't even gotten to the mountains before their quarry was sited once more. Whatever business the warg rider had in the mountains it brought them back out again. They were once again coming along the Glanduin. Bets were that they were once more headed back to Tharbad despite the number of times the trail seemed to backtrack along itself. The captain motioned for his men to circle about, see if they could surround the warg and its rider. They had only planned on following and reporting what they saw. If they could get information directly from the source however, then it was a chance opportunity.
The adrenaline from the mountain had worn off as well as trying to force oneself to stay awake longer than they could was taking it's toll on Harry. Padfoot was concerned for his boy and tried to get him to rest, but Harry was nothing if not stubborn and refused. He didn't want to sleep and see those ugly creatures. The strain of being wary, trying to be alert in case of anymore surprises, and his body coping with newly healed wounds, had the boy's body trying to rebel the only way it could; by trying to fall asleep on his feet which stumbled as he walked. At Padfoot's whine and insistence, Harry finally climbed atop the wolf which he'd been refusing to do before rightfully thinking that he'd fall asleep if he did so. He hadn't been mistaken and it wasn't too long before Padfoot felt his boy slowly lean forward until he was resting with his arms on either side of the wolf's neck, head atop the back of his.
Padfoot had ignored the occasional twitch of the boy's limbs as Harry had done so before when asleep. It was the movements coupled with the distressed whines that had the wolf pause unsure. He had wanted to make it back to the abandoned city but then had picked up the scent of others which had him change his mind and alter his direction. Doing so quite a few times didn't seem to have tricked their pursuers whose scents and sounds moved along with them; persistently chasing them. The wolf had a quick decision to make for the predicament they were in. He couldn't run with Harry as deeply asleep as he was. There was nowhere to hide and wait out those that were stalking them. That didn't stop Padfoot as he tried to keep low and use the hills and rocks to his advantage.
Carefully as not to wake or jostle Harry, he got down on his belly, rolled the boy off him before getting back up and trying to lead them away from Harry. He couldn't risk the boy making a noise while trying to hide. Hopefully, Padfoot was the one they were tracking and would follow him without disturbing the boy. He couldn't risk Harry waking and making noise while trying to hide. Padfoot attacked the first person he saw, jaws clamping down on the bow that was brought up to try and fend him off. The wolf's weight had the man fall onto his back and Padfoot heard a loud satisfying -CRACK- as his powerful jaws snapped closed on the wood, breaking it. A yelp was torn from him as his shoulder flank was stabbed. An arrow grazed his hind flank, the pain only adding to his anger, fueling him as he bore down on his downed prey snarling.
The man had brought up his arm to protect his throat otherwise it would have been torn out. As it was, Padfoot had the man's arm in his mouth, worrying it, when he heard a voice call out, “Hold warg! Or your master ceases to breathe!” Turning his head towards the voice still with the man's arm in his locked jaws caused the man's arm to be almost torn from it's socket as he was pulled along. The wolf's baleful glare centered on the hand that was holding a blade to his boy's throat.
Harry had been thrashing, fighting the goblins in his sleep when he'd began to began to fight in reality when he'd felt himself grabbed. He clawed and even tried to bite his assailant subconsciously noting that he thought that the skin of a goblin tasted strange and not at all what he expected. The sensation of cold metal at his throat woke him as well as someone commanding him to halt or he'd be dead too soon? That had caused Harry to open his eyes and stare with fear at his captor who indeed held a blade to his throat and had a hand twisted in his hair to keep his head up and away from the weapon to both better access his neck and from accidentally slicing open his own throat in the struggle. Grunting and still trying to pull away, Harry winced as his hair was used for leverage as he was yanked upright none too gently. The man maneuvered them out into the open where they could hear Padfoot snarling and the sound of someone else releasing sounds of pain. At the sound of Padfoot being hurt, Harry tried in vain to once again get the other to release him by trying to kick out behind him. All that got him was the dagger pressed into his skin and a warning.
The boy wore a scowl one hand on the wrist that was holding the blade to his throat, the other was grasping at the man's other arm trying to get him to release the hold he had of his hair. When Padfoot's jaw closed more with an almost audible cracking noise that could only be the bone breaking, eliciting a pained yell from his captive. The man holding Harry pressed the blade that much harder to where a bead of red now stained the silver blade where it bit into his neck. “Keep struggling and you'll save me the trouble of slicing your throat myself.”
“You'll kill me anyway.”
“That hasn't been determined just yet. Call off your warg!”
When it looked like Harry was going to refuse, the man's dagger bit further into his neck, causing the boy to hiss and for Padfoot to let go of the man whose arm he'd been shredding. Hackles raised, it looked as if the wolf was going to go for the downed man's throat at the slightest movement from either man. The pressure eased only the slightest from the boy's neck allowing Harry to swallow without fear of cutting himself. Scared, angry, and wanting to be away, his voice when it came out betrayed how helpless he felt which he didn't like at all. “What do you want from us? We didn't do anything!”
“Your warg attacked first.”
Despite the predicament he was in, Harry couldn't help but scowl more and call the men what they were in his eyes. “Liar!”
“I'd be careful whom you call liar.”
Before Padfoot could advance an arrow was loosed lodging itself in front of him, causing the wolf to jump back growling and the fight to leave Harry. Of course there were more than just the two men. The injured one was unconscious, his bow having been rendered useless when the wolf broke it. It had also come from a different direction. Unfortunately the boy couldn't turn his head to look and they weren't in his peripheral vision. He did however recognize the cloaks even if it had been dark and they were fleeing when he'd seen them.
“You were the ones that attacked us at the ford!”
“Why were you trying to enter the Shire?”
“What's the Shire?”
“Why were you trying to cross the ford?”
Harry tried to keep from rolling his eyes. If the men lived around the ford then they would have to know the reason wouldn't they? “It was the first place to cross the river to go west.”
It seemed the Drughu were right and that going west was a very bad idea. Maybe he and Padfoot should have just continued going north and left the ford alone. It would have saved them the hassle of going east and running into those awful monsters on the mountain. Maybe if they had just went north then these men wouldn't have come to attack them again?
“Why were you going in that direction?”
Harry sighed. As scared as he was of answering wrong and ending up dead, he was getting annoyed with the questions. What was wrong with wanting to travel that way? If they didn't want any visitors they should have had a sign or something that stated that was their property and land! Petulant, he responded, “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
His gaze had been traveling trying to find the archer who'd shot the arrow at Padfoot while said wolf had kept his own gaze locked on Harry's captor. The boy's eyes narrowed when he saw a third person knelt down with a rock shielding most of his body. That meant that there were four of them? Could there be more that he couldn't see?
“Where do you hail from?”
“What?”
“Where did come from? You didn't take the north-south road.”
“We followed the river north to the ford.”
“There is naught south but the Dark Wood. Despite the wildness of your appearance, you don't look like a Drúadan.”
Harry kept his mouth shut and seeing this, his captor said something to his companions in a language that he'd not heard before. Then back in the language that Harry could understand and they'd been talking in, he was instructed to, “Tell your warg to stand down.”
“If I don't?”
“Then we shall have to kill it.”
Feeling his eyes widen at that statement and how matter-of-fact it was stated without emotion caused the boy to clench his jaw and blink to fight away the angry tears. His voice cracked. “What did we do wrong?”
“Tell it to stand down.”
“Promise you won't harm him,” Harry demanded first. He wouldn't put it past these men to kill Padfoot as soon as they could.
“I swear, none of my men will harm the warg. As long as it does no more damage to us.”
“Padfoot,” Harry called with only the slightest hesitation. It wasn't as if he really believed the man, but had to take him at his word for the time being. Swapping over to the language of the Drughu, he told the wolf, “Attack them if they try anything. Let's play along for now though.”
Hissing again as the grip in his hair tightened and pulled his head further back and the blade cut into his tender neck caused the boy to whimper. He had to hold his hand up and out to halt Padfoot from attacking. The man asked in a dangerous voice, “What did you just say?”
“I told him what you wanted me to say.”
Harry wasn't sure if the man believed him or not, but breathed easier as the grip on his hair was relaxed and the blade eased its pressure against his neck. The person the man had apparently spoken to in that other language and shot the arrow at Padfoot entered into the boy's line of sight. He was however at an angle so that the man by the boulder could still shoot Padfoot if he dared to attack despite Harry's claim of telling him to stand down. Rope was wrapped around the boy's wrists binding them. Padfoot growled but went no further not wanting any more harm to come to the teen. He was sure that he could take out all the men, but not before one of them further harmed or ended Harry's life.
The wolf would play along for now, striking when he could. One was deeply injured and unable to use his arm possibly ever again, which Padfoot was quite proud of. The injured one was a burden to his companions, one of which had to haul the man up and help him which left two to be dealt with when the time came. He moved away from the down man when his boy was made to instruct him to do so. If Harry wanted to play that Padfoot could only understand the Drûg language, he would play along until it suited them. Until he was able to get his boy safely away.
Chapter 5: Introductions & Speculations
Chapter Text
Thandir kept the tip of his sword near the base of the boy's skull encouraging him not to so much as twitch as his captain looked over Amras' arm to see if it could be salvaged at all. It was treated with what they had on hand then bound to the best of their ability, but it would take an actual healer to inform them if the man would keep his arm or if it would have to be cut off. If that happened, there was no telling how the man would respond to the loss of his arm. There had been some that would continue on as Rangers, fighting even one handed as one did when injured in battle; or he could become despondent and either waste away until he was empty or put himself to use some other way.
The only one they would trust with diagnosing, curing, or even amputating, would be Lord Elrond and the elves of Imladris. Speed would be of the essence as was the case in all injuries when it came to treatment and infection. Which was why they had talked amongst themselves and knew from their current location both Bree and Rivendell were about the same distance. In Bree, where they were looked down upon and with little to no love, it was likely their comrade would lose his arm receiving subpar treatment.
It was decided that they would split up despite the risks that would entail leaving the two that weren't making haste towards Imladris in the company of the warg. Thandir and Nathor would keep heading back towards Tharbad as planned. It was more defensible even with its ruinous state than the wild. With luck and all four of their horses they should be able to make good time. Without the scent of the predator, the Rangers shouldn't have to worry about the horses trying to run off. It actually was happenstance that had their small party with traveling mounts rather than just a supply pony. They had tied the beasts up a ways back in order to try and get the drop on the warg and its rider.
The boy had tried to use their distraction when the sword dropped a little as his captor's attention was taken by his fellows to make his way to the warg. Thandir recovered quickly and had his sword tip pricking the skin between his captive's shoulders in warning. “Do not move.”
“He's hurt too!”
“He'll live,” came the dismissive answer more concerned with the health of his friend than the beast. “Do not move,” the Ranger warned once again but this time it was directed towards the warg whom had growled and inched closer when the blade had pricked the boy's back. In response the child after giving a command to the beast, turned and scowled at him, uncaring that the blade was now at his breast. His anger very clearly writ upon his face and in his eyes. Coupled with the anger, frustration was laced in the boy's voice when he retorted, “We're not your enemy.”
“You be not our friends either,” Nathor stated from where he saw off his subordinates.
It seemed as if the boy was about to retort but thought better about it as if debating with himself about something before an almost cunning expression crossed his face. “He'll slow you down limping.”
“Shant I remedy that by killing it then?”
“I'll find a way to kill you if you do.”
“You're not proving a case to keeping you alive.” Despite what he said, Nathor would wait to see what their chief would rule. It was just too strange for a warg and a child to be out this far. They were an enigma that needed to be answered.
“If you let me heal him, he could help keep us safe.” Thandir scoffed as did his captain. The boy undeterred continued. “You can't watch us and the enemy if or when they attack.”
“And how do we know that you won't have him attack us the moment our backs our turned? As yet, we haven't established that you're not our enemy.”
Huffing, the boy muttered something unintelligible under his breath before repeating what he'd stated before, “We're not your enemy!”
“And I'm to take your word for it?”
“I took you at yours.”
This was true. The boy had allowed himself to be bound once he'd had their word that they wouldn't harm his warg further. “What is your name?”
Dark brows furrowed over green eyes in puzzlement as the boy seemed to try and figure out why he wanted to know. “It's only polite isn't it? I'm Nathor and the one holding the sword to you is, Thandir.”
There was a moment where the boy stared at him intently before he finally stated, “Harry.”
Both Rangers weren't sure what name they were expecting but it wasn't one that would be found in Bree. If anything he'd have thought the boy came from Dunland; his appearance was dirty and wild enough for it. Nathor had to admit though, he'd never seen anyone or race have eyes the specific shade of green as the boy's did. The shape of them though and a bit of the skin tone hinted at Easterling blood, but they never came this far west. They were still content to lay siege to Gondor and their lands. Just as the only beings he'd ever heard tell of wargs allying with were goblins. The boy's bone structure ruled out having either Dwarf or Hobbit in him despite his barefooted nature.
“All right, Harry. Give me your word that you'll not run away, attack, or hinder us, and I shall let you tend to your warg.”
“Padfoot,” came the muttered response as if he'd had this conversation before.
“What?”
Sighing, Harry repeated. “Padfoot. His name is Padfoot, not warg.”
The ranger waited and watched as the boy's expression changed from irritation to contemplation, then finally it morphed into seeming as if he'd bitten into something sour as he reluctantly nodded. Then sighed when the man hadn't budged awaiting a verbal response.
“Fine! I promise.”
Thandir sheathed his sword but didn't unbind the boy's wrists just yet. This caused Harry to roll his eyes before he asked, “Where's my bag?”
Glancing over to his captain, he saw him nod his assent to give the boy his bag. It had been checked, the blow darts and pipe taken. The child looked irritated when he found them missing but didn't say anything as he got out the pouch he'd need. It was awkward and difficult, but Harry did it. He'd made a salve he applied to the warg's injured flanks. It took both Rangers by surprise when the warg growled at the boy when it was applied causing Nathor to knock an arrow while Thandir's hand rested on the pommel of his dagger, but then the boy growled back! There was something in that language that the Rangers didn't know and the warg moved its gaze from its master to the Rangers. Both quickly took their hands from their weapons, relaxing their stance which had the beast's growl quieted down.
After the boy had tended to the warg, it limped ahead of them while it's master walked at its side, the two Rangers following. They had wanted to travel at least a few leagues before they had to make camp for the night. Not trusting the boy or the warg, neither ranger had cut their captive's bonds as it wouldn't hinder either him nor them while they walked. During their travel the boy and the warg made no move against the Rangers nor had they when they made camp. When they were sitting around the fire, the boy was glaring at Nathor because he had kept him from going and sitting by the warg. He didn't put it past the boy to have the beast use it's teeth to gnaw the binds. It was too bad that they hadn't thought to have it muzzled as part of the agreement. If they were attacked having the warg on their side and able to use it's powerful jaws outweighed the cons.
The Rangers hadn't know what to make of their small companion. Harry shared the sentiment not knowing what to make of the very tall men who were vastly different from his experience with the Drughu. Their gray eyes were always watching their surroundings. And from his perspective they were so tall! If he hadn't been used to jogging and chasing after Padfoot then he would have had a hard time trying to keep up with their strides even if they had shortened them for him. He was very happy when they had decided to take a break but was still put out when they left his hands bound. At least they had allowed him to sit with Padfoot. The boy couldn't help the smug satisfaction he felt though at their looks when he'd suggested that they allow the wolf to hunt for his dinner. They hadn't liked that and had finally consented to tossing the bag of jerky to Harry to dole out to the creature. He was sure that they thought that if they didn't watch Padfoot that the canine would attack them at the slightest notice.
Taking a piece for himself, Harry's teeth bit a chunk off, as he eyed his captors who were talking near the low fire. That had surprised the boy when they had dug a hole before they made a fire. They caught him watching them curiously but didn't tell him why they were doing but gave no explanation for their behavior. “What do you think, Padfoot? Think they'll let us go anytime soon? We didn't mean to trespass.”
While he eyed the men and spoke with Padfoot, the two Rangers were discussing the boy. “I think he might be a stray Dunlending,” Thandir commented. “With a bit of Easterling blood in him.”
“The biggest mystery and concern is the warg,” Nathor stated his gaze never leaving the pair in question. It was known that the creatures were intelligent and that they preferred to ally themselves with the vile orcs. The only wolf that he knew that hadn't aligned itself to evil had been Huan which had fought Sauron in wolf form in the first age. There was no saying that this boy's warg wasn't any different than Carcharoth the wolf of Angmar.
The younger man gazed at the boy and animal both of whom were staring back at them just as intently which didn't set well with him. Quickly, he looked back towards his captain wondering, “We haven't seen anyone else and the boy hasn't met with anyone.”
“That we know of. He could have already met and either collected or passed along a message.” Rifling through his pack he called out, “Harry!” to which said person glared but still caught the apple that was thrown at him.
Harry stared at the fruit with a mixture of confusion and suspicion. His frown didn't lighten any when he was informed that he needed to eat something other than jerked meat. The men had already gone through his satchel so knew that his provisions had been low and that there had been no fruits since he'd eaten the last of the dried ones a few days ago. Sniffing the apple, he ignored the man's huff and promptly held it to Padfoot asking, “Is it safe?” He didn't think it was poisoned but it didn't hurt to prove to his captors that he would believe everything they said or take anything they did as trustworthy. They had shot at he and Padfoot for no reason after all and then captured them all because they couldn't be bothered to put up a property sign.
“What? If they want to be this way, I can play up the mistrustful brat,” Harry pouted when Padfoot had snorted and given the teen a look. Taking a bite out of the apple, he slowly chewed as he returned his gaze to the men, particularly the younger one since it seemed to irritate and disturb him the most. After eating his apple core and all, the teen began to think and decide to start questioning the men if they weren't going to say anything. As he was about to ask his first set of questions, he was surprised when the men took the initiative. Maybe they had just waited until after he was done eating to start their own questions?
“What are you doing out here?” Nathor wanted to know the question that had been pressing on him since they had first caught sight of him and the warg near the Shire.
Confused, the teen blinked at him. “You brought us here?”
“Before that. Where were you and what happened to your parents?”
As when he was speaking with the Drughu, Harry frowned as he tried to recall and found that there was nothing there. It frustrated him as well as caused him a bit of anxiety but it wasn't for not being able to call up any parents. Padfoot nudged him causing him to smile thankfully at him. He didn't need anyone else since he had the wolf and it had been him that he'd been searching for when he'd been in the woods. Upset that his hands were tied, he still was able to reach out and press his head against Padfoot's. “Thanks,” he whispered before turning to the Rangers and shrugging. He and the canine were happy living in the present not dwelling on anything that Harry couldn't remember. “Don't know.”
The men exchanged glances before the question of where the strange duo were going was raised again. “Where were you headed?”
“Didn't we already cover this?” Harry muttered before he sighed. “That ways direction,” he gestured vaguely in the direction they'd been heading before their misfortune with the men and the horrid mountain creatures.
“You must have had a place in mind?” Thandir stated disbelievingly.
Shaking his head, Harry wondered why they didn't believe that he and Padfoot had just been wandering? While they didn't have a set destination they had a feeling where they should go and so they did. From his interactions with these men so far, he didn't think it would be in either his or Padfoot's best interest to say that. “We were told not to go across the Baranduin because there were elves there. And we didn't want to go directly east because of the horse people.”
Thandir wore a satisfied expression as if Harry had just confirmed something for them while the man's captain just stared pensively. When the man spoke it was as if he was expecting something from Harry when asked, “And why were you told that?”
Harry stayed silent sure that the others knew about why the Drughu disliked getting involved with others. He was sure that if he had been a child of one of their enemies they would have allowed him to eat those poisoned berries. Instead of answering their question he wanted to know one of his own. “What are you going to do with us?”
“That is for our chieftain to decide.”
“Why? If you let us go, I promise we'll stay away from that Shire place and the west.” If there were more people like his captors Harry wanted to stay well away from them. He didn't really want to interact with anyone except for Padfoot and explore. They had been having a grad time until the mountain mishap.
“It's not as simple as that,” Nathor began.
“Why not?” Harry hotly demanded. It was simple to him!
“Your warg-”
“Padfoot!”
“Injured one of my men.”
“You attacked us. Twice!” Harry was getting angry because this was unfair. Both times they had been minding their own business and these men had to go and attack them! Padfoot had been protecting him. They had already made it clear that the wolf's life didn't concern them and they would rather Padfoot die.
“Do you know what lays to the north?” Nathor asked thinking once again about Carcharoth and the Angmar Mountains.
Movement from Padfoot had the men tensing and Harry trying to find what had caused the canine to begin growling as he moved to stand protectively over the boy. Seeing as his attention wasn't on the Rangers but focused beyond them, the men grabbed their weapons, alert for any sign or sound of movement. Harry felt himself tense as well, eyes desperately searching while he hoped that it wasn't more of those creatures. Looking around he tried to find a way to free his hands so he could help or at least grab ahold of Padfoot and escape that way. He was hoping for the latter wanting to put as much distance between himself and the men as possible.
Chapter Text
The sound that came from the grass was a sound that the Rangers knew but one that neither Harry nor Padfoot were familiar with. Harry had tried to gnaw on his bindings with the end result being a sore mouth as the rope cut his gums. His eyes went wide when he saw the large tusked pig break through making a sound that hurt his ears. He had naturally tried to clap his hands over his ears the task made impossible by the rope that bound him. Padfoot was snarling while the Rangers had both draw their bows and had knocked an arrow each. An arrow found its way to one of the boar's eyes but didn't burrow far enough to enter it's brain to kill it. The animal squealed in rage and ran to attack causing the Rangers to dodge aside while the second arrow lodged into the boar's shoulder. As Padfoot leapt at the creature nearly as large as Harry was tall, the boy called out the wolf's name in a mixture of fear and desperation. He'd only seen Padfoot that viscous when they were attacked by those mountain creatures.
Harry could only watch helplessly as Padfoot rushed the boar then would back off when it tried to gore him with a tusk and then attack again. He glanced to the Rangers who were aiming arrows at the boar and would release when they thought Padfoot was clear of their shots. The wolf would distract the boar trying to take a bite from its rump dragging it before having to release due to the way the boar was able to swing its head. The arrows seemed to only anger the boar and about as effect as the blow darts had been against the goblins. Nathor appeared to have figured that out as he dropped his bow and instead drew his sword.
Redoubling his efforts on his bonds, Harry growled in frustrated anger that he didn't have his knife. He had lost it when they had encountered the mountain creatures. It was just as well since he was sure that the men wouldn't have allowed him to have it. His wrists hurt from where the bindings had bit into his skin irritating it in his struggle to free himself. Then, he let out a sound of satisfaction when he heard the snap of the rope and felt them release from his wrists. He didn't care how it had happened and gave it no thought as he lurched to his feet. Gaze zeroing in on the others he glanced around and felt his mouth turn upwards as he shot a glance at the rangers assuring that they were too busy to pay him any attention. Harry scrambled to an arrow that had only grazed the boar and with that in hand snatched up the discarded bow that Thandir had foolishly tossed aside. The younger man had decided to copy his captain's approach to handle the pig. It appeared to work however as Nathor drove the blade deep into and through the boar's neck into the ground with the help of Padfoot.
Out of relief that his friend was alright, Harry's body naturally relaxed before he brought the newly acquired weapon up not trusting the boar to be faking them out. He'd seen that once when he'd been hunting with Padfoot. The animal had saved the last of its strength on one final attempt to flee. As the two men were frowning at the apparently dead animal, Harry swallowed the want to call out to Padfoot, not wanting the men's attention drawn to him. That didn't stop the boy from stepping closer and making sure to keep an ear towards their conversation.
“Diseased?” Thandir said in a questioning voice that caught the Harry's attention. The boy frowned in brief confusion as he quickly deduced the man was speaking of the boar.
The other didn't comment but was inspecting the animal while Harry forgot that he shouldn't speak was very curious and worried. “What kind of sickness makes an animal attack people?”
“The kind that can transfer to your warg if it tries to eat any of it,” Nathor commented as he eyed said creature. You didn't have to be skilled in the language of canines to see that Padfoot was eyeing the dead animal with hunger as his tongue licked his maw.
Eyes going wide, Harry's attention immediately went to his friend as guilt warred in him as he made for the wolf. “Padfoot, maybe you shouldn't eat it.”
Padfoot actually snarled at the boy causing the two men's grips to tighten on their swords as they warily eyed the creatures. The shock of his friend acting thusly towards him had Harry's eyes go wide before something in him had him glare right and growl right back at the wolf before speaking. “I know you're hungry! If you eat that,” a vicious jab towards the dead boar with the bow had the wolf tracking the movement. “You might end up getting really sick. You might end up trying to attack and eat me, then you'll be alone. Or do you want to eat that thing, get sick and leave me alone? Is that what you want?”
Chest heaving with emotion because Harry really didn't want to be left alone without his companion. It caused something in him to feel as if it would crack. He knew that if Padfoot left him, he would be more than hurt. His glare lessened as Padfoot whined before approaching him slowly with lowered tail and head, his furry features clearly showing that the thought of either one of them alone again caused him sadness. He licked the boy's face and Harry's posture went from tense to relaxed with that gesture. It was habit to wipe the saliva off his face with the back of his hand as he mock glared at the wolf who was now showing signs of being happy once more.
The smile that was about to break onto Harry's face didn't last as he was brought back to reality when Padfoot's ears swiveled towards the sound of the approaching ranger. Glancing over to him, the boy frowned and tightened his hold on the weapon when the man gave it a pointed look. “I'd like that back now.”
“No.”
The answer took the man by surprise but not his captain if the expression on his face was anything to go by. He stayed quiet though and just observed while Thandir smirked at him condescendingly. “What do you think you'll accomplish? You can't even pull that to a full draw.”
That was likely true but Harry wasn't going to give in without a fight. “I can pull it far enough for it to pierce you.”
“Is that a threat?”
“A fact. And Padfoot would be able to get your captain before you could do anything.”
“And is that what you are planning on doing?” Nathor spoke up, his voice not reflecting anything at all aside from curiosity.
“If it comes to it.”
“That would mean breaking your word.”
“I'm not a liar!” Harry declared hotly and even Pafoot gave a light growl at the men for causing the boy upset. “I promised that we wouldn't harm you as long as you didn't harm us. And that I wouldn't ask or have Padfoot attack you while on the trail. I've kept my promise! You've been breaking yours though.”
“How so?”
“Padfoot needs to eat more than scraps. He needs to hunt!” It seemed a waste to let the boar's carcass rot without allowing his friend to eat, but if what the men said was true, he couldn't allow him to eat it! And if these men could just see that neither Harry nor Padfoot meant harm, perhaps they would start to believe them. Maybe they would allow them to go free.
It seemed like Thandir wanted to scoff but his captain eyed the two speculatively before his hand left the handle of his sword to instead point his finger at the boy. “You swear that the warg will only be gone long enough to hunt. It will come back to you immediately after and won't attack us at any point?”
“He'll only attack if you harm me or cause me to be harmed,” Harry agreed.
After a long look, the captain nodded and the boy who gave a wordless nod of his own and turned his attention to Padfoot. The wolf would let him know if either of the men tried anything while his back was turned. “You heard the man, Pafoot. Make sure you get enough and maybe find us a route away from here?”
Padfoot nudged him with his head causing a brief smile to flutter on the boy's face before it was hidden as Harry buried his face into the thick fur. “Be safe and come back to me. Don't leave me alone.”
Harry laughed when he felt the whine before he pushed away and Padfoot after giving him another lick to the face, loped off. The boy knew he should keep an eye on the men, but he couldn't look away as his friend disappeared from sight. Turning his head he reflexively stiffened seeing the two men near where the strands of rope were that had once bound him. He was suspicious that they hadn't demanded the bow back, but supposed they still didn't consider him much of a threat. Even with the bow, he only had the one arrow which meant one shot.
Padfoot hadn't wanted to leave him boy, but he had been telling the truth; he needed to eat more than the handful of jerked meat or the occasional rabbit. While the stag meat had been partially filling, he'd not eaten the whole thing as he wanted because he had to provide for his boy. If he starved or became weak, he wouldn't be able to protect him. It had been hard for him to forgo his instincts to eat his kill when the boy had interfered. It had surprised him that he would growl at Harry like that, but at the same time, the boy should know better than to disregard food that was there for the taking. While he hadn't smelt anything wrong with the creature, if it distressed his boy that much, he wouldn't eat it. It had grieved him to think of losing his boy or leaving him alone.
Snuffling along the trail he was able to smell a lot of small game that wouldn't hold him but would have been a meal for his boy. That wasn't what he needed to hunt though. Putting on speed, the wolf ran faster than he ever had with Harry astride him not having to worry about the boy falling or losing his grip. For a time he lost himself in the freedom of unrestrained movement before the scent of another animal filled the air. Slowing then pausing, Padfoot followed the scent trail until he was low to the ground, crawling on his belly to keep from sight.
While he and Harry had been traveling they hadn't seen any evidence of people until they had encountered the men that first night. The place they had stopped for his boy to make the jerked meat had been in ruins and hadn't been lived in for a very long time so it had been safe to stay there. Here though, was the first dwellings and signs of civilization that Padfoot had seen. His keen eyes took in the homes and the scant people. His nose twitched as it smelled meat. Careful as could be he found the dwelling that smelled like it had lots of meat and hints of smoke. The wood and skin of the shack was easy enough to penetrate and soon he was making away with a sizable pig though nowhere near as large or as satisfying (he was sure it would have been very filling) as the boar he'd help take down with the men. Hearing shouts that sounded as if this was something they were used to but still just as angry and upset with had Padfoot making haste closer to the mountain to enjoy his spoils.
While he'd parted from his boy before in order to hunt for the both of them, he'd not been gone for longer then a few hours at most. Never had he been gone for a day let alone days. Yet, there wasn't any big game near where they were and both he and Harry wanted to be away from the men and their unknown plan for the two. If the men controlled the western side of the mountain range then they would have to cross it to the east side and hope that they weren't trading the frying pan for the fire.
After a few more rousted rabbits, Padfoot made for the mountains. Without having to worry about his boy he made greater progress but he was still just as cautious. It seemed that either the creatures had learned their lesson the first time or he wasn't as interesting without Harry along. Whichever the case, he was thankful to be left alone. There seemed to be a path but he would need to have Harry keep ahold of him if they were to traverse it. While he was able to keep his footing there were still places where rocks would shift and decide they would rather rest a bit further down the mountain then where they had started. Padfoot could sympathize as he'd rather not be on this mountain either! Soon enough he was descending on the other side and was happy to see that like the previous one, this one had a pool to drink from as well.
It was as he was drinking from it that he noticed something rather odd about it. It was as if he was staring at the sky which caused him a bit of vertigo until he was able to shake it off. He huffed at the thought that he was drinking the sky. He was sure that Harry would like this and have a laugh at the thought. With him in mind he scouted about and was happy to see that there were two forests they could choose from. Perhaps more of the Drughu were living in them. If there were it would please both himself and his boy greatly to encounter them. They would likely have to prove they meant no harm again, but at least this time Harry could speak their own language to assuage them.
After another successful hunt of a stag he'd caught and gorged on, the wolf was going to head back to the mountains when a noise on the wind stopped him. Curious about this possible new danger, Padfoot scented the air and was very confused. Finding a ridge he could climb, he found that he could see in the distance a group of people that were quite a bit away. Seeing their mounts his mouth salivated at the thought horse meat. One of those would be enough to satisfy his hunger with some left over for his boy. The wolf was about to leap down and figure out how to drive off one of the horses but paused. The group didn't seem to be rushed and if Padfoot was quick enough, he'd be able to retrieve his boy and return with him before the group reached the mountain. With that thought in mind, the wolf doubled his pace as he practically flew back to the mountain pass.
Notes:
The pool Padfoot drank from was Mirrormere so named because of the stars that were reflecting in it at night when Durin found it. If anyone has guessed or would like to know, this fic is taking place (or at least the beginning) around 2989-90ish of the Third Age. So about 47 years after the events of The Hobbit and about 29 years before the beginning of The Lord of the Rings.
Chapter 7: Of Knives and Absence
Chapter Text
Nathor had kept watch as the boy had confronted his warg, hand tightening on the grip of his sword in case the beast decided to lunge. As he had last time though, the boy had growled back and then proceeded to rebuke the creature? Halfway through he must have been a bit more distressed then any of them had thought as the Drughu language was abandoned for Westron. It didn't seem as if the boy had realized his slip and the man wasn't going to say anything since it confirmed what he had suspected all along. He wasn't sure what to think about the boy's act that the warg only understood the language of the Drúedain. If the boy felt safer with the bow while the warg was gone he wouldn't begrudge him it up until it was pointed at him.
Having the boy's word about the warg and having no reason to not trust it at the moment, Nathor had turned his attention to the rope that had been discarded. He had been sure that it had been tied securely and wouldn't have come off with a bit of squirming. Squatting, he gave the area a good look as he picked up the rope and then offered it to his subordinate. “What do you think?”
“It looks like it was cut,” came the reply not seeing what his captain saw and was trying to figure out what was so important about this odd fact.
Gesturing as he stood, Nathor gave a nod and handed the pieces to the other. “With what?”
Thandir was brought up short as he gazed about finally noticing what he should have before. There were no rocks around and there hadn't been a knife or any sharp implement their prisoner could have used to cut himself free. The boy's mouth hadn't had fangs and the warg had been helping them take down the boar. At first he had thought the rope had maybe frayed enough for the boy to be able to use whatever strength he had to break through it. The ends were too neat for that which could only be made by a very sharp precise strike.
“Do you think he really had been living with the Drúedain?” Thandir queried with interest. They didn't know much about them but did know they had a magic of their own. A quirked brow was the only response he got from his captain which could have said he was wondering the same thing about the forest dwellers teaching their art to the strange boy. Or it could have simply been Nathor wondering about the route his thoughts took him.
Neither man said anything about the boy's feat of escape and Nathor didn't expect an explanation to come from the boy either. The Rangers kept an eye on the boy while they figured out what to do with the carcass of the boar. They discussed burying it versus burning it and the dangers that both possibilities presented. They couldn't allow other animals to get to the carcass if it was contaminated. They didn't want the smell of the cooking meat to draw any predators or alert others to their location either. In the end they decided to dig a hole that would encompass most of the boar then they loaded heavy stones that would be hard for an animal to shift atop the body.
While they dug with sturdy sticks, Harry had watched curiously. “Why don't you use your swords?”
“To do so would blunt them,” Nathor replied with a grunt as he jerked his makeshift shovel towards himself as the gouge he was working on deepened.
“Feel like helping?” Thandir asked in such a way that the boy knew that it wasn't really a sincere question.
In response, Harry had given his own reply with an expression that clearly showed he wasn't going anywhere near the rangers and the hole they were digging. He still didn't trust them at all. He was feeling petty enough to let them do all the work for the situation they were in. If it hadn't been for them, he and Padfoot wouldn't have been in the area to be attacked by the boar. If anything they would have run, but with Harry bound that hadn't been an option. The men would have likely hunted them again too. That line of thought caused the boy to frown in thought as he gazed at the arrow he hadn't let go of. He hadn't really gotten a good look at the arrow that had gone through the deer cloak. There had been more pressing matters but he was sure that it had been different then the ones the men used. Glancing at the men he placed the arrow into his satchel thankful that they hadn't taken it back after he'd seen to the wounds they gave Padfoot. The Ranger might get his bow back when they gave Harry back his blow pipe and darts.
Showing interest at the rocks around them, Harry smiled victoriously when he spotted a few that would work for what he wanted to do. While the Rangers were busy, the boy found a place to sit comfortably after he'd taken his deer cloak off so he could work unencumbered. Deciding to sit atop it, he smiled in contentment as he worked at chipping at a few of the stones being as careful and precise as he could. They weren't ideal, but they were a lot better then the rock he'd chosen back at the beach for the first time. After a moment he paused in his work and looked up to see how the men were doing. Leaving his prospective knives on the cloak, he made his way to the boar with his 'hammer' rock in hand. Chewing on his lip he gazed at the animal in consideration before he grabbed one of the tusks and whacked it at the base with the rock. Whether it was the boy's audible noise of a mixed grunt/exclaim, or the sound of the tusk breaking had gotten both men's attention.
“What are you doing?” The elder asked him curiously.
Without hesitation or stopping what he'd been doing when he'd startled the Rangers, Harry slammed the rock into the other tusk as he replied. “Spoils.” It wasn't as if the disease would be in the bone like protrusions since it was in the blood and meat of the creature. Or that was the reasoning the boy was going with as he tried to get the stubborn long jutting lower teeth to break off.
“Spoils,” Nathor repeated.
Harry nodded and with a grunt and a satisfied exclamation he moved on to the last one. “Padfoot helped to kill it. These belong to him.”
“What use has a warg of spoils of battle?”
With his last trophy in hand, Harry looked at the Ranger and shrugged. “Don't know what these will come in handy for. They're his though since he did most of the work.” So saying, the boy went back to his cloak, carefully placed his new treasures into his satchel and went back to work on his knives ignoring the men's stares. The big flakes he studied and either set aside carefully or would discard it carelessly. After a little bit it he heard the sound of the wood gouging the earth again but it seemed only one of the men had gone back to work.
“What are you doing?” This time it was Thandir who appeared to be completely baffled to see the boy continuously hitting one stone with another making the one being hit smaller and thinner as the flakes and chips broke off.
“Making a knife.” Harry replied in a tone that stated that it should have been obvious. Then let out a hiss of pain as he cut his fingers. That was bound to happen as he worked on it. Ignoring the small cuts and spots of blood, he continued. He disliked being at a disadvantage and would prefer not to be so helpless if they run into any other wild animals, mountain creatures, or anything else that decided they had an issue with either the Rangers or Harry. "Lost the last one on the mountain.”
If he happened in the same situation again, the boy hoped he remembered to pull the blade out rather than letting go after he stabbed his opponent. Considering he was in shock, he allowed himself some leeway for his stupidity. Next time would be different, he'd make sure of it. It wouldn't be bad to have a back up which was why he was making more than one knife.
“How'd that happen?”
Harry looked up from his work briefly to survey the man's interest before resuming with a frown on his face. “I left it in the neck of a mountain creature.”
“Mountain creature?” After a description provided from Harry, the Ranger stated, “That sounds like a goblin.”
“Thandir,” the name was called in a commanding and irritated tone. Nathor was annoyed with his subordinate for becoming distracted. They really needed to get the boar seen to before too much longer and move locations. The younger man startled and quickly and bashfully returned to helping his captain.
While the men completed their hole and shoved the boar into it which only took two thirds of the animal, Harry completed one of his knives. He completed the second while the Rangers placed a mound of stones over the boar completely covering it. After cutting a swath of the deer hide, he carefully gathered his extra rock flakes he'd set aside to keep into the hide and placed it into his satchel along with one of the knives. The other was back into the sheathe at his hip.
“Be alert,” Nathor cautioned as they broke camp to put some much needed distance between themselves and the bloodshed that would bring the predators calling. Thandir had been sullen and shot Harry a nasty look when the boy refused to hand over the bow again and his captain allowed him it. The younger Ranger's hand stayed on his sword pommel as they walked.
Harry didn't worry about leaving scent markers confident in Padfoot's ability to find him, but he was worried about where they were going. At the end of their trek lay the Rangers' chieftain and whatever punishment they thought he and Padfoot warranted for defending themselves. Where ever they were going hopefully was far enough that Padfoot would catch up before then.
An itch had the boy scratch at his throat but then hissed in pain as his fingers met the small cut the Ranger had made earlier. He had almost forgotten about it along with the cut on his arm with everything else that had happened. Moving his arm out of his hide, he glanced at the cut the best he could as they walked and didn't see any redness which was good. It was probably just sore because he'd worked his arm so much making his knives earlier.
His arm wasn't the only thing sore though. Harry's legs weren't very happy with him either. Over the last couple of days the only sleep the boy had was the brief nap he'd gotten before he'd been rudely awakened with a dagger to his throat. The brief resurgence of adrenaline he'd gotten from the boar attack was already leaving him. Stubbornness could only keep him awake and moving for so long before his body began to protest its lack of sleep. It caused him to stumble a bit and slowed his movements but Harry refused to ask if they were anywhere close to stopping yet.
Either they decided to humor the boy or they had decided they were far enough away from their previous camp because Harry nearly ran into the younger Ranger when the men stopped. Stumbling backwards he blinked and glanced about. When he saw a certain marsh in the distance he stared before his brows furrowed. He was pretty sure that it was the same one that he and Padfoot had traversed when they were trying to get away from the men. Were they taking him back to that Shire place they didn't want them? Glancing back along the path that the trio had walked, the boy sincerely hoped that Padfoot would hurry. He would try and not get too panicky or worried until they reached the broken city.
The men talked quietly among themselves while Harry sat with his back against an old broken tree stump keeping his gaze on his unwanted traveling companions while trying not to fall asleep. It was strange and unpleasant to not have his furry friend with him to curl up with knowing he was safe and wouldn't get cold. Even though it was Spring, the nights still had a bit of a bite to them that Padfoot usually was able to keep at bay. There was no sound of the wolf's irritated huff when Harry would squirm because sleep was taking longer than it should or he couldn't get comfortably situated. There was no earthy smell mixed with a bit of wet dog that he was used to. The most disturbing lack that Harry felt aside from the wolf's actual presence was the slow beating heart he could feel under Padfoot's fur along with the sound of the air moving in and out of his lungs as he breathed. It might seem silly to some, but Harry had gotten used and dependent upon those smells and sounds that subconsciously soothed him.
Nathor and Thandir watched as the boy's heavy lidded gaze began to lose focus and soon his head was jerking as he tried to stay awake but failed. Eventually, his chin dropped and his body relaxed as he succumbed to his exhausted state. Both Rangers had wondered when the boy would give in since they had both known he'd been rousted from sleep when they had corned him and his warg. The elder breathed out, “About time.”
It wasn't that he completely distrusted Harry, but he didn't like puzzles that had the chance to be dangerous. Everything in his gut was telling Nathor that the unlikely duo were exactly that.
Chapter 8: Escape
Notes:
I apologize. There have been many reasons for my absence including nearly succumbing and relapsing into my addiction, family stuff, and a medical scare. Just the other week I ended up with a nasty bout of food poisoning causing me to strain/pull an abdominal muscle. Fun time ROFL. You all have been so wonderful though and I appreciate your (in)patience with my lack of updating. You guys are awesome!
Chapter Text
“How far do you think they have yet to go?” Thandir questioned his captain as he thought about his fellow Rangers. It was a shame in his opinion that they'd had the bad luck to not have the Lord of Imladris' sons hadn't been nearer. They would have gladly taken care of the warg. It was well known that they had a deep seated objection to anything that had to do with Sauron and his ilk.
The older man was quiet for a moment before replying, “I'm sure that Ohtar is making the trip as quickly and painlessly as he can for him. They do have our horses as well as their own,” he reminded.
While the horses would need rests, they could still walk after they had need to slow their mounts for awhile. All four horses had been healthy and used to the wilds and the terrain the Rangers would roam. Their associates would make good time with the paces the horses could hold.
Now that their young companion had fallen asleep, the two Rangers felt as if they could be more free with their words. Nathor had found it amusing despite how he felt about the boy that he'd yet to release the bow even in sleep. It lay in his lap, hands curled around either side of the grip much to Thandir's dismay. When the man had made a move as if he was going to try and retrieve the bow, Nathor grabbed his arm and shook his head. “Allow him to keep it for now.”
“What if I have need of it?”
“You think the boy values his life so little? If it comes to it, I'm certain he will relinquish the bow to your possession.”
Thandir's expression was one of disgruntlement and doubt. He did however settle back down and decided to ask, “What will we do when the warg comes back?”
“That will depend on it and the boy,” came the measured answer. Neither man believed that the warg or its master would allow Harry to be bound again, not like it had held him this last time. Nathor had been surprised when the boy hadn't just taken off with the creature once again but had instead sent it away. It seemed the boy planned on upholding his word.
When it came time to wake their unwanted companion, Thandir was lucky to end up with a welt instead of a cut on his face. The Ranger had gone to wake the boy who apparently was already on the verge of waking and reacted when he perceived a threat to his person. The bow he'd been holding was brought up hitting the man in the face. Harry hadn't paused as he'd scuttled backwards still clutching the bow as he got to his feet and completely woke up to stare a bit wide eyed. As the Ranger lunged at him he was halted by his captain's sharp reprimand, “Thandir!”
The man glared at Harry in growing dislike as he aborted his grab for the boy. Harry's heart which had sped up from the jolt of adrenaline from his startle begun to return to it's usual rhythm. He watched warily as the Rangers pulled out some food and Nathor gestured for him to join them while they ate a cold breakfast. Harry took the provisions offered but sat well away from the men and noted that he needed to refill his waterskin soon.
Harry kept quiet as they walked wondering what Padfoot was doing. If he'd been able to find a way across the mountain or if he headed south. Whichever it was, he hoped that his furry friend had been able to hunt and get a decent meal. Knowing it had only been yesterday and that he would likely have to give the wolf at least another day before he came back didn't stop the boy's eyes wandering hoping to catch sight of him. So lost in his thoughts and used to just heading to a rock or tree, he was brought up short when he was brought out of his musing by Nathor's curious, “What are you doing?”
“I have to go,” Harry stated as if that was obvious.
“You're going back on your word already?” Thandir asked in such a tone that made it obvious he was hoping for such a thing to be true.
Nathor gave his subordinate a disapproving glance while the boy's expression was a mix of annoyance and anger that clenched his jaw to keep from snapping a retort back at the Ranger. Voicing his pressing need he shouted, “I have to piss!”
Without waiting for a reaction or reply, Harry angrily continued on his way to where he'd planned on relieving himself. There wasn't much cover so he knew that the younger Ranger had followed him which really annoyed the boy. He wasn't sure if the man was holding a grudge for being hit with his bow or if he really thought Harry was going to try and run away even though there wasn't anywhere to hide. Whichever the case was, the boy wished the Ranger would give him some space. When Harry was still standing there glaring at back at him, the man demanded, “Can you hurry up?”
“I can't with you watching me.” came the belligerent retort. Harry hadn't even been able to go with Padfoot watching which the wolf knew and found amusement in the boy's discomfort but would always sit with his back to him.
“Leave off the boy and let him relieve himself in peace.” Nathor commanded much to the younger man's consternation.
Harry didn't need prompting to continue where he'd been going. He had been tempted to take the opportunity to flee, but he really didn't have anywhere he could escape. It would have to wait until Padfoot return. The rest of the day went much like the one before save that Thandir walked behind at the rear, the younger Ranger hadn't wanted the boy at his back. He was still of the belief that Harry would run away as soon as he could without constant supervision. It caused the boy's hair on the back of his neck to raise whenever the man glared at him. It wasn't as if Harry wanted the man at his back either but there was nothing he could say in protest.
When they stopped for the night Nathor had wanted to begin anew to question their captive as he was still unsatisfied with what few answers he'd gotten before they had been interrupted by the boar's appearance. He had waited until they had eaten and the boy was huddled under his poorly made deer skin cloak. Having already had a look through the boy's satchel he knew the boy didn't have a tunic nor spare clothing of any kind.
“Harry.” When the boy gave him his full attention rather than partial, Nathor wondered, “When did you and the,” a harsh look and a curled lip from the boy had him change what he had been about to say, “Padfoot become acquainted?”
A shrug was the insufficient answer he'd received. Not removing his gaze from him, he tried again. “I would think that your parents or minder had the warg from a young age to have him so loyal to you.” He'd heard of a family whose children had brought home a warg pup thinking it to be a puppy. He couldn't remember how that story ended but wondered if that was what had happened to Harry. Thandir was of the notion that the warg had killed the boy's parents but he was too young to remember. Nathor had tried to tell his subordinate that if that were true, the warg would have hardly stopped at the boy's parents. Whatever the case was the boy only pressed his lips together in clear anger. It seemed that he had gathered that Nathor would keep pressing until he gave a verbal response.
“Padfoot's always been with me! We've always been together.”
“What stayed the Drúedain from striking him down?” That had been part of the boy's story that he had been very curious about.
Again Harry shrugged but there was an expression of bemusement on his face before it changed to one to accommodate a smirk. “They realized that he wouldn't hurt them if they didn't harm us.” It was clear on his tone that he meant 'Unlike you.'
“And they let you leave with just a pair of breeches still during the throes of the cold season?”
“I don't know how to weave myself a pair out of the grass and vines.” They had been very comfortable but Harry wouldn't have been reproduce them if he'd tried. Pointing at the leather pair he was wearing that had come from one of Padfoot's kills, he stated, “These were for other folk like you.”
“They didn't wear any kind of proper clothing?”
Both Harry and Nathor turned an annoyed glare at the younger Ranger before Thandir shrank back realizing his captain wasn't too pleased with him interrupting his progress of getting the boy to talk. Returning his gaze to the boy, Nathor saw that Harry was once again eyeing him suspiciously and had retreated both physically and every other way. Sighing, the man stood and took out a spare tunic of his own pack before he walked the few paces to Harry who scrambled to his feet unsure of what he was going to do. All Nathor did though was hold out the tunic. “If you insist on not being close to the fire, I don't want you to get sick before we can get to where we're going.”
“Where are we going?”
“You'll see when we get there.”
Harry frowned but took the proffered piece of clothing. He waited until the Ranger sat back down on his side of the fire before he shed the deerskin. Pulling on the worn and patched tunic, he pulled at the sleeve so his hand was free to grasp his knife. A glance and a heavy sigh confirmed that the man knew and signaled his permission for Harry to mutilate it. Using the knife he cut away first at the excess material of the sleeves to just before his wrists to keep the edges from brushing against the raw skin there. He cut them into strips which he was going to braid into a belt after he was finished cutting the material mid thigh to make it a proper tunic size for himself.
“Give that piece here,” Nathor stated gesturing to what had been the bottom half of his spare tunic. Shrugging, the boy handed it over having either no need for it or didn't know that he could use it for anything else. While Harry braided the strips he had into a belt, Nathor had taken out his sowing kit and began to sew the scrap which he was going to reattach to the tunic as a hood if the boy would allow him to. It would give him some protection from the elements. They had been lucky to have missed the rains so far but he didn't believe that would last for very much longer.
Harry had returned the tunic to the Ranger for him to put the hood on which he watched with interest. “You carry sewing material?”
The man's lips quirked into a small smile. “Of course we do. How else should I repair my clothing if they get a rip or tear in them?” He gave a shake of his head at Harry's careless shrug. “Here.” He gave the shirt back and watched as it was quickly donned along with the belt about his waist.
“Well, he looks halfway decent now,” Thandir stated and Nathor had to agree. Without the warg and in proper attire he only look semi wild. That was until the boy decided to pull his cloak back on which both men knew wouldn't last very long as it hadn't been treated and showed that Harry had only the vaguest of ideas of how to make one. “How can he stand the stench?”
Nathor shook his head and glanced back to where their captive had made himself at home once again across from the fire with the bow in his hands. “I would think he was used to it. He does keep company with a warg.”
“Fair point.”
Sighing, Nathor knew that he'd not be able to get anymore answers out of the boy tonight. It was clear that Harry was settling himself in to sleep and hadn't been keen on talking anymore after Thandir had insulted the Drúedain. He would just have to try again tomorrow.
Padfoot had little trouble on the mountain and it wasn't until he'd left that he had to track to where he could smell old traces of himself and Harry. Once he caught the scent he made for where he'd last left his boy in the company of the Rangers. It took him a bit longer than he'd wanted to as he'd slowed down in order to ensure that he wouldn't head in the wrong direction. The men had headed one way but there was no telling if they had backtracked or changed directions in order to try and throw not only Padfoot off the trail but any prey that might have been following. When he'd come upon where they had slew the boar he could smell that other predators had traipsed through but none seemed to be go the same direction as the Rangers and Harry's trail.
Eagerness gave the wolf a fresh bout of energy as he trotted following the scent of his boy. As the smells got fresher Padfoot's caution warred with his eagerness to be reunited. When he'd come in site of the three as they walked, the wolf was confused as his gaze went over the three. Dropping to his belly, he shuffled so that he was mostly hidden and tried to puzzle out what was wrong. Focusing on the shortest he saw that it was Harry when the boy turned to look over his shoulder wistfully, scanning the area before sighing and facing forward again. Standing, he trotted out into the open and padded along with the canine form of laughter to see how long it would take the humans to realize they had company.
It didn't take long apparently because the captain had spun arrow knocked in his bow and trained on Padfoot as soon as he sighted him. The other had pulled his sword after Harry had flatly refused to give him his bow back. Padfoot gave a warning growl at the weapon aimed towards him.
“Don't!” Harry shouted at the Ranger while hitting him in the stomach with the bow he held in his hands and running towards Padfoot.
Padfoot's growl deepened when the younger Ranger tried to grab Harry and the boy bit into the man's hand savagely causing him to let go. By that time Nathor had lowered his bow and put it away while Thandir was swearing towards the boy.
Harry ran to Padfoot and didn't care that he slammed himself into the wolf as he clutched at him, face buried in his fur. “I missed you!”
Padfoot huffed then while still keeping his wary gaze on the men, inhaled the boy's scent and snorted at the unfamiliar scents embedded in the shirt the boy now wore. Mixed with Harry's scent was the man's which the wolf didn't like. The only consolation was that the scent would fade away in time replaced with more pleasant smells like grass, the wind, and the scent of rabbits or stag.
With the return of Padfoot, Harry's countenance was very much lifted and he stayed by the wolf's side. The men reeked of wariness which kept Padfoot's own senses alert. He wanted to take his boy and run but knew the best time would be to wait until night fell and he had the advantage. When it was, Padfoot had ensured that neither he nor his boy were too close to the heat of the fire which Harry was all too happy to comply with now that he had his heat source in the form of the wolf. He kept his gaze on the men as he lowered his head on his front paw with Harry leaning against his flank.
As if they could sense what Padfoot had planned the men slept in rotation. It was while Harry had gone to relieve himself that the wolf acted. Padfoot ran out of camp snatched the boy's new shirt between his teeth giving a tug before letting go. Complying, the boy immediately grabbed the wolf's fur and hauled himself up as he had many times before and flattened himself against Padfoot's back, knees gripping tightly. As the wolf raced away he could hear shouting and Harry flung the Ranger's bow as far as he could before ensuring that both hands were fisted in the black fur. “Go as fast as you can, Padfoot!”
The wolf needed no encouragement as he raced along the path he'd traveled earlier back to the mountain much quicker than he usually did with Harry astride him. By the whoops of joy and laughter coming from his boy, Harry was relishing the freedom as well. Harry was indeed enjoying their flight. The sensation of wind buffeting him causing him to shut his eyes to keep them from stinging was familiar. The smile never left his face even when the wolf slowed down to catch his breath near the base of the mountain. Blinking, he turned to look back the way they came then back up at the mountain. “Wow. You are really fast, Padfoot.” He hadn't known that the wolf could travel that far so quickly. Giggles escaped him when he imagined the Rangers' faces when they weren't able to catch up to them or catch them unawares.
Without dismounting, Harry glanced up at the mountain and couldn't help but shudder recalling his last trip up it. Licking his lips he shifted nervously before he wondered, “Think your path will get us both up there without me having to get down?”
Hearing an affirmative noise caused the boy to relax and drop his head back onto Padfoot's. “Thank you.” Trusting completely in his furry companion, Harry didn't look as Padfoot took to the mountain as sure footed as he had been last time. This time it was different though as he ran with Harry clutching on for dear life, head buried in the nape of the wolf's neck. He didn't' really want to see how fast Padfoot was going as he seemed to scale the rocks in record time. It wasn't until the wolf slowed down that Harry started really paying attention. His ears picked up the sound of steel striking steel and flesh that caused him to sit up sharply. Down below he could see a group of people fighting the nasty mountain creatures. “Not again,” he groaned.
Chapter Text
The sentiment not again summed up their predicament quite nicely. Wolf and boy had been enjoying themselves until they had slowed due to Padfoot's senses picking up the trouble near the base of the mountain. He had heard the harsh sound of metal meeting metal and the soft slightly wet sound of a body being pierced. Neither wanted to run into the goblins again nor were they particularly eager to run into anymore people who were like the Rangers that they had escaped from. At Padfoot's urging the boy carefully slid off his friend and crouched behind a pile of rocks. “What is it?” he whispered only to have the wolf give him a reprimanding nip.
Harry was fully alert as Padfoot went into 'hunter mode' as the boy dubbed it. Copying the wolf he went to his belly and crawled to peer at what caught his friend's attention. He swallowed thickly. “That's a lot of people.”
Indeed there wasn't an army but they could be considered a horde, much more than Harry could quickly or easily count for both sides. He peered around his rock down at the fighting peoples and after squinting closely at one as he plunged an ax into the chest of a goblin, Harry stated, “They aren't Rangers.”
The Rangers while having scruffy beards that were perhaps a growth of a few weeks, those fighting below had to have not shaved for years and years! They were also shaped different than the men who had previously been the duo's unwanted traveling companions. Almost but not quite like the Drughu being short. The abundance of hair, axes, and actual clothing ruled out the Drughu from being the ones fighting the goblins. The fighters while compact weren't quite as squat as forest people and were much more fierce in their fighting. He'd never seen a Drughu fight with an ax or sword!
Harry was of two minds about the altercation. Part of him wanted to jump in and help. The previous experience with the mountain creatures had made it clear they were horrid nasty things. They hadn't even tried to talk with Harry when he and Padfoot had tried to scale the mountain the first time. The look in their eyes hadn't been a type of warning that they were trespassing. It was more as if they were hungry and the duo were food. The expression had caused the boy nightmares and he didn't think the people fighting them now would like to end up as dinner. The other part of Harry, the one that didn't want to fight the goblins didn't believe that he and Padfoot should get caught up in the battle. That part wanted to urge his wolf friend that they should flee. Padfoot was fast enough to get them away without drawing too much attention. If they interfered, there was nothing to say that the warriors wouldn't behave like the Rangers had and hold them captive for a misunderstanding. 'Or try and kill Padfoot,' the boy thought after a glance at the wolf.
The option was taken from them as with a snarl, Pafoot leapt over Harry to tear out the throat of the goblin that had come up behind them. The boy had scrambled away causing his back to hit the rock he'd been trying to hide behind. Pulling the knife he'd made from it's sheath he lunged for one of the goblin's legs seeing as that was the most unprotected part of the creatures save for their necks and heads. Harry rolled away missing the slash that was meant to cleave his head from his shoulders. The goblin was then tackled and taken care of by Padfoot who growled low and warningly when he was done. He and Harry looked around and saw that the bearded men were making quick work of the creatures. Wolf and boy watched in awe as outnumbered as they were, the men didn't seem to be intimidated at all as their enemies fell seemingly without taking as much injury themselves.
Padfoot's keen gaze caught a threat that the others including Harry missed causing him to streak off towards the creature that was drawing back on a bow. Due to the wolf slamming into it, the arrow's trajectory was off, wobbling as it was loosed. There was a roar, screaching, and yelling that had Harry -mindful of the knife in his hand- cover his ears due to the sounds. He watched as creatures retreated not even giving either Harry nor Padfoot a second or even first glance as they fled from the bearded men. The wolf was soon standing guard near Harry ready to either knock him over or give the sound for the boy to mount up to flee.
Swallowing as he lowered his hands, still with the knife gripped in one, Harry warily eyed the strangers as they in turn after taking a brief account of their own people, turned to stare at the duo. Neither one knew what the men were saying but could tell it was very much different then the language used by the Rangers when they hadn't wanted them to know what was being said. A shiver went down the boy's back as he edged a bit closer to his furry friend when it seemed a consensus had been reached. One of the strangers separated from the others intent on it seemed to speak with Harry. As the old man, for his beard and the hair that could be seen escaping the man's cap was very white, strode towards the duo, another man joined him.
As they came closer, Harry could see that he had been right. These men were taller than the Drughu by a foot at the tallest. Which made them half a foot taller still than Harry himself who wasn't sure to be glad or not that two of the three peoples he'd come across were as short as himself. Their beards too were longer than he'd thought but were well kept all the same even with having been in a fight with grime and blood spattered about them.
With eyes on the wolf before turning them to Harry, they kept their hands well clear of their weapons as they approached then stopped. The man who the boy could tell was younger due to the hair being gray rather than white. He gave a sort of respectful half bow, nod with his head. “Flói at your service. I want to thank you and your...wolf?” it was said in a questioning sort of way as the man squinted at Padfoot.
“Er...” Came Harry's brilliant reply. He was thankful he could understand them so it seemed as if they too knew another language just as it seemed all the peoples here did. At least it seemed that his own language was common enough that it was a second language or a common one known to those he spoke to so far.
“T'was the wolf that allowed the orc to miss his mark.” The white haired one stated before he gave the same sort of bow as the other. “Balin at your service.”
Blinking then realizing that he should probably introduce himself as well, Harry gave a very awkward jerk that he knew wasn't nearly as graceful as the other two's. “Um, I'm Harry. This is Padfoot.”
Padfoot stretched out his front paws and leaned his head down to them in his own version of a bow causing Harry to give a playful scowl and mutter, “Show off.”
The wolf huffed at him and lolled his tongue as he sat on his haunches and Harry disliked that he was embarrassed as he realized that the two men were staring at them strangely but without hostility. Swallowing again and deciding that he should probably put his own knife away he did so. It looked as if the two had questions but it was the older one, Balin, who seemed to be the spokesperson. Rather than ask right away about Padfoot it was still a bit expected. “What is a lad your age doing here?”
Harry supposed it hadn't needed to be pointed out that he was well taken care of with Padfoot along
so it wasn't as if he was alone. Still, he sighed because no matter the people it always seemed to come down to where he and Padfoot were either coming from or going to. Giving a lazy shrug and gestured with his hand that wasn't hold the knife that he belatedly remembered. He quickly sheathed it as he spoke,“We were headed that ways direction.”
The two followed the boy's motion down the mountain before exchanging looks and returning their gazes to Harry. Balin's gaze sharpened as he took in the boy a bit more intently while the other, Flói, stated their curiosity aloud. “Is that way home?”
Exchanging his own glance with Padfoot, Harry gave another shrug as he replied, “Maybe.” Maybe they would find a home someplace or perhaps they would only call the road home. For now, it didn't really matter or cause either of them any distress. The only snag it seemed always came from their interactions with people. They asked so many questions!
“Are you expected home anytime soon?” Balin inquired next.
“Not really.” It wasn't a lie. Padfoot was Harry's home and he was Padfoot's. The Drughu weren't expecting either of them back until possibly winter if they decided to head back that way. They did need to find themselves a place to stay for the night unless Padfoot decided he was going to try and keep going until dawn. Both of them would want to gain distance from the mountain.
It seemed as if Padfoot hadn't like the question as while Harry had answered, he'd gone from amused aloofness to wary guardian. Sensing the change of emotion, the boy gave him an inquisitive glance then seeing that Padfoot wasn't about to start growling or attack, returned his gaze to the two men but with more caution.
“Well, why don't you come back and camp with us tonight?” Flói suggested. “We could use your wolf's help guarding our backs.”
“Padfoot,” came the absentminded correction but without heat. Harry gazed at the men curiously before turning to Padfoot who didn't seem like he objected but still hadn't eased himself back into his playful nature. Giving a sharp nod, the boy stated, “Alright.”
“Wonderful.” The two men headed back down towards the others with Harry and Padfoot following slowly behind them. Harry walked closer to Padfoot, hand on the wolf's shoulder as they neared and could make out the distrustful, wary, curious gazes of the others. While Balin was moving towards what Harry could now see was an entryway to inside the mountain with a few other white bearded men, Flói stayed nearer to the boy and wolf.
“Where are we going exactly?” Harry wanted to know.
“Inside of course,” Flói stated as if it was obvious.
“Why?”
“It's home. Or will be again.”
The Dwarves, for that was what Harry learned they were when they got very much insulted when he'd asked if they were related to the Drughu at all or more like the Rangers. He got an earful for comparing them to the men folk. He supposed he had gotten off easily because he was 'young' and supposedly 'didn't know any better'. It was a bit grating but better than the alternative yet was still promised a 'lesson in manners' that he wasn't sure was a threat or not.
The entrance of the mountain was searched and secured so that the others could enter and close the doors. Lanterns had been lit and the Dwarves had sent out a scouting party while the others had sorted out to make a brief camp for the night. Harry had wanted to go with Padfoot and the others since the wolf was of course going to make sure that it was safe under the mountain for his boy. Padfoot had seemed torn wanting to have Harry with him to ensure his safety and whereabouts, yet also wanting the boy to stay put in an already secure area. The latter won out as there were plenty of people to make sure that Harry didn't come to harm. When he'd tried to argue with the wolf, Padfoot had used his head to knock the boy down and then placed his large paw in the middle of Harry's chest and gave the low growl that he knew was a command.
Much to Harry's chagrin his cheeks flushed even as he pouted hearing a few snickers and amused glances to the duo's antics. Those of course that hadn't been edgy or frightened to have the wolf appear to be threatening Harry. With crossed arms and sulking, Harry found his gaze meeting that of Balin's which was entirely amused and intrigued. Pushing to his feet, Harry went to see if he could talk with the older Dwarf.
“Does that happen often then?”
“What?”
“Padfoot treating you like a disrespectful pup.”
“Is that what he's doing?” Scratching at the base of his skull, Harry thought about it and gave a shrug. “I suppose so. We are family.”
“And you are still a youngling.”
“I am not!” Harry ignored Balin's snort.
“By Dwarvish terms you'd still be considered a child until your third decade. Although, even at such a young age as you are now, you'd have had a beard. Were you Dwarvish.”
Harry had to gape at that. “What are you born with beards?”
“Yes, we are.”
The boy had no idea what to say to that and could only stare in amazed confusion. He was soon led away to help ensure that he was fed and helped hand out rations to the others. Once everyone was back, and settled, Harry and Padfoot were in for another surprise. It seemed that the Dwarves were not only skilled in battle but with music as well. All manner of musical instruments were brought out or carefully unwrapped before they struck up a tune. With wide eyes Harry settled against Padfoot and listened with rapt attention. It was quite beautiful and both boy and wolf found themselves relaxed, content, and soon falling into a blissful nightmare-less sleep.
And thus a routine was created. Pafoot would help the Dwarves patrol and clean out the caverns when they found any sign of goblins. He would also help pull litters of stone or other supplies. Harry would help where he could, carrying and fetching, delivering messages, and even just keeping someone company. It was in this way that the boy found that the Dwarves were very amusing. They would every once in awhile break into song but it was in order to make jests and give cheek to another. Once it had been directed at Harry and it had taken him a moment to understand, flush in embarrassment, then laugh once he got the punchline and realized that it was all in good fun and wasn't just singling him out. It was quite the opposite and he was strangely being included which caused him to feel warm inside.
It was very much different then when they would settle down at night to relax after a good meal. Those were the times that Harry looked forward to if he was honest with himself. He had learned that there were those songs that didn't have words or were more emotion while others were tales and history. Both he and Padfoot loved hearing those stories. Of course there were other tales and stories that Harry would hear when he was fetching or delivering something.
Just as he had when he and Padfoot had stayed with the Drughu or even when they were by themselves, Harry lost track of time. Lighting was very different here in the mountain so the boy only knew day from night because of when it was time to either sleep or get up to work. They had been there long enough though that Harry felt relaxed and even realized that the reason the Dwarves had allowed them to stay as long as they had. They were showing their hospitality which was in their nature but also because Padfoot had and by extension Harry, allied themselves with the Dwarves when they had helped save Flói.
“Ori?” Harry wondered while he handed over the parchment he'd been asked to fetch by the scribe. The Dwarf wrote down everything that happened but he also drew maps seemed to love to tell stories of what he knew. “What's the Shire?”
“Hmm?” The Dwarf asked a bit distractedly as he was busy scribbling something down. Harry waited until the other looked up before handing the sheaves of parchment over.
“The Shire. What is it?”
“Oh, that's where the Hobbits live.”
“Hobbits?” Harry's expression one was of utter confusion. “What's a Hobbit?”
That appeared to take Ori aback until it seemed he'd come to some kind of realization. Harry was forgiven his ignorance as apparently it wasn't well known that a Hobbit had helped during something called the Battle of the Five Armies. Now that sounded interesting to Harry and he made a mental note to see if he could ask about that later. For now he really wanted to know about this Shire and Hobbits that caused the Rangers to feel they needed to attack he and Padfoot.
Ori set aside his current project and then launched into a tale that he had been a part of. It started off while the Dwarf was in the Blue Mountains and Harry wanted to know where the Hobbits and Shire came in but stayed quiet. Any tale told by a Dwarf was engaging and kept Harry's rapt attention. Thus it was this time as well and he soon learned about how it had been common for a while for Dwarves to pass through the Shire but a few that were friends and knew Bilbo would visit him personally. Then of course came actual meeting with Bilbo and the boy soon learned all about the adventure that had become so much more for everyone involved.
Neither had been aware they'd been sitting and talking for hours until Harry's stomach decided to interrupt them to remind them it needed to be fed. As Harry ran off to remedy that problem, he realized he forgot to ask how the Rangers fitted into that story. They hadn't appeared anywhere in the tale that he could recall. He did later tell Padfoot the short version of what he'd learned. “I think they thought I was a tallish Hobbit until they got closer. Wouldn't mind having feet like them when it comes to some of those rocks on the mountain.”
That had been another thing that had puzzled their Dwarven hosts. The boy had said he liked the feel of the earth and grass under his feet. The stone was a bit harsher and he would have preferred not to wear anything at all on them. It didn't set well with the Dwaves though so they ended up compromising. To avoid the boots of the like his hosts wore, Harry destroyed what was left of his deer hide cloak and made wraps for his feet. Or he had until he was busy getting lessons on how to defend himself from Flói.
The Dwarf had come upon Harry gazing with awe at Lóni and Frár who were practicing with their weapons. This seemed to cause Flói to get the bright idea to teach Harry how to use his knives 'correctly'. According to the Dwarf if he was going to be throwing himself into battle he needed to know how to survive with a bit more than luck.
“You have to step with the thrust,” Flói stated yet again demonstrating. “Not stumble.”
“I'm trying! It's these darn wraps!” They had degraded a bit and were causing the boy to have less than stellar footwork. Sitting down he ripped them off and threw them aside and felt much much better! Wriggling his toes he grinned. “That's more like it!”
The Dwarf didn't appear to agree and sighed with great weariness. “This wouldn't happen if you had proper boots.”
“Don't want them!” He stubbornly stated with a frown. “They're heavy and they make me stumble more than those did.” He pointed at the ratty hide.
“Let's see if you still say that when we're done and the soles of your feet are bloody.”
Notes:
Yes, yes, I did alter the history with not allowing Flói to be killed just outside the mountain right away. Also, it was never explicitly stated how many Dwarves followed Balin. There had to be at the very least a hundred for a colony and for Balin to proclaim himself Lord of Moria.
Sorry it's as short as the other chapters but if I'd waited, you wouldn't be getting an update this month.
Chapter 10: Wayward Travelers
Chapter Text
There was a grunt followed by a sound of frustration as Harry was once again tapped with the stick -hard- against his ribs that if they didn't bruise, would still be sore for the rest of the day. The boy had lost count how many times he'd been 'killed' without getting a single hit of his own. Oh, he was getting better at trading blows, parrying, ducking, and sidestepping which had his opponent telling him to quit dancing about. Náli had graciously decided to be Harry's sparring partner while Flói watched and corrected the boy's atrocious fighting stances. The older dwarf did counter Náli's complaint with, “The lad isn't a Dwarf. He'd not be able to take a heavy blow. He has to use that agility of his to his advantage.”
That wasn't to say that the Dwarves were in any way slow. The aches and healing bruises on Harry's body were proof of that. The boy was thankful that Flói hadn't heeded his complaints about fighting with real weapons. Well, Harry had a real blade, but Náli was armed with only a heavy stick that he drubbed him with. When the boy had questioned about possibly hurting Náli accidentally, both the Dwarves had laughed and Flói had stated, “Lad, if you can put a single scratch on him I'll convince the rest to stop trying to give you boots.”
With that kind of a promise, Harry had gone all out only to keep getting bested without landing a single hit on his very much experienced partner. That didn't mean that the boy hadn't tried to improvise by taking advantage of his lighter thinner frame. It had started the comments about how Harry was dancing about. They had caused the boy to get angry at first which was likely part of the reason they were said, causing a distraction which resulted in a new spot to ache that hadn't already been hit by his opponent. Padfoot whom would always come to these sessions sat on the sidelines watching intently. He would growl or abort his movement to get up from his seated position whenever the boy took a hit. It caused both Dwarves a bit of their own distraction at first until they got used to him and realized that the wolf wasn't going to attack.
“That's enough for today,” Flói stated as Harry doubled over, bracing his arms on his knees as he panted trying to catch his breath. He watched the boy drop to the ground letting go of his weapons and his wolf immediately going over whining and licking at his face. The boy put up a half hearted attempt to shove the licking face away from his own and flopped to lay in a comfortable sprawl.
“How do you fare today young one?” Náli asked with a grin.
“I can't feel my arms,” Harry half whined, half stated with a bit of exaggeration. His trusty stone knives had been replaced with Dwarven iron crafted daggers during his training. They were a lot heavier than he was used to coupled with the constant exercise caused his muscles to burn slightly. Padfoot it seemed was taking advantage of this by giving a quick lick to his boy's ear and then placing his furry head onto Harry's chest. Harry could only move his own head aside and give the wolf a frown. “No belly rubs for you.”
The dwaves and Padfoot snorted. The more Flói got to know the unusual duo the more he found them amusing. As did the rest of the colony he was sure. They kept themselves busy helping where they could and not intruding where they shouldn't. They had the sense that there were some things that weren't theirs to learn and seemed to respect that, taking what was offered. The dwarves were more than happy to expound their tales to a new audience who didn't seem to ever grow bored of listening to them. Flói knew the duo intrigued Balin.
With a groan and a shove at the wolf's head, Harry sat up and sighed. Stretching his sore muscles he was both relieved the training was over for the day and happy that what came next was more relaxing. After his training he was usually give some time to himself which he was thankful for. Sometimes he and Padfoot would explore and other times, they would just sit and rest together. There had been one day that they had gone to one of the caverns and had immediately halted. A shiver had gone down Harry's back and he'd automatically reached for the comfort of the wolf's furry shoulder and clench his hand in the fur. He didn't like the sense of that direction, his gut giving a twisting sensation and was more than grateful when Padfoot had agreed with him, turning away from that hall. That didn't mean that all their wanderings had been for naught. They had found some interesting rocks that Harry had been able to keep. They had looked ordinary except when broken open were milky white inside and the boy took a fancy to them.
Frár showed Harry how to knock the external flakes off the rock and to polish it so he was left with a smooth pale white stone. A few other rocks were made into a handful of smooth beads that the boy adored and carefully added to his keepsakes. He had idly toyed with the idea of trying to adorn Padfoot with them as the wolf slept, but thought twice about it knowing how much he'd get paid back for that little trick. It was still very tempting. Naturally, that urge was given into and the boy's deft fingers carded through the fur pausing every once in a while with baited breath before continuing. Once the wolf had realized what Harry had done, he chased the boy throughout the halls. Harry's laughter rang throughout the halls causing the Dwarves to smile and enjoy the sound as well as the sight of the boy running from the wolf whose ruff and mane were threaded with white beads that stood out starkly against the black fur. Soon enough there were sounds of Harry's pleading as Padfoot had him firmly pinned and licked at the boy's face and hair.
Part of his day he was able to sit with Ori and learn how to play a flute. Balin had tried to teach him to play the viol but Padfoot had hunkered down putting his paws atop his head to try and flatten his ears as much as he could and give a whine or howl. Each time Harry put bow to string, the wolf would make howling noises to drown out the sounds emitted from the musical instrument. They were pitched to let all know that the wolf found Harry's playing atrocious and painful. It seemed that as a beginner, it sounded as if Harry were torturing some kind of animal. Balin had said that it would take practice but Harry had objected saying that he was sure that Padfoot wouldn't allow him that time. The wolf had seemed to agree by making threatening snapping motion with his jaws toward the stringed instrument. During these flute lessons, Padfoot after giving a whine and a baleful glare would get up and leave the two to it, finding somewhere deeper in the mountain to be where the sound didn't carry or were drowned out. Harry supposed that the wolf didn't find it as objectionable as the viol and if he did say so himself, the boy believed he had a better knack for the flute. An additional bonus was that it was much more convenient to tote around.
Today, Balin was with Ori when Harry showed up for his lesson. Padfoot and decided after a few sour notes a couple lessons in that he would rather not accompany the boy and head directly into the tunnels. Blinking at the deviation to his routine, Harry was curious why the the Lord of Moria was visiting Ori. The dwarf had proclaimed himself thus after setting up his seat in the Chamber of Mazarbul. He and most of the dwarves were usually busy securing and searching the mountain. They appeared to have found treasure but while curious, Harry didn't question them about it. That seemed to earn him the right to learn a bit about what they had found and thus learned a bit a history of their race.
During their stay with the Dwarves Harry had heard many many tales and stories and told some of his own, few that they were. He did enjoy telling them about his first successful hunt and all the mishaps before that while learning and that he had been quite sure that Padfoot had laughed at him during those times. During the telling of the story Padfoot had lolled his tongue indicating that yes, he did find amusement in the boy's early failure. Still, Harry was quite proud of himself and even had a feather that he kept as a treasure from that experience. It was the feather and his other treasures and keepsakes that had stirred Balin's interest and questions wanting Harry and Padfoot's stories. The boy had been looking over his treasures and trying to decide what he wanted to do with some of the stone flecks he'd kept when making his knives. He hadn't liked being weaponless and wondered if he could somehow make a small knife about the length of his little finger he could hide upon himself. That way he would still be able to reach it and cut his bonds if he were ever tied up again.
“What have you got there?” Balin had asked.
“Memories and treasures.” Harry's reply had been a bit hesitant as he glanced at the old dwarf as he tried to best express and explain himself. Keepsakes to remember and others he was sure would come in handy, he just wasn't sure what for quite yet.
“I see,” had been all that Balin had said but then asked for Harry to participate in the stories by telling the meaning and story behind each item. The dwarf hadn't said anything about them but had gazed strangely at him before seeming to shake it off and returned to how he'd been before so Harry put the whole thing aside. The boy had been more focused on the dwarf's knowledge on the rangers or rather Men folk when Balin had gotten the story behind the arrow among the keepsakes. “Men can be tricky,” he stated. “Just as much elves.”
“Elves?” It seemed that these elves weren't liked in a lot of places! Or at least to those peoples that were sensible like the Drughu and the Dwarves.
“Aye. You see lad,” Balin had started as if he was going to enlighten Harry with another story but then seemed to pause and after an undecipherable expression changed the subject completely distracting him.
After a brief conversation to Ori about a message to be sent to their kin giving them an update, Balin had Harry take a walk with him. Doing so, the boy tried to focus on the dwarf and his curiosity as he so often did in order to ignore just how high the the halls were in some areas. They made him feel exceptionally small and uncomfortable even if he knew it was in order to allow light to bounce and shine in the normally dark mountain home. The pillars were beautifully crafted and Harry was sure that if he were a dwarf, he would find no objection to the place, but as he wasn't, he disliked it greatly. He and Padfoot would sometimes leave the mine in order to get some fresh air. Harry greatly missed the wind on his face and in his hair. He would envy the times that Padfoot would go and hunt and feel badly about feeling that way.
“Where do you plan on going next?”
“Huh?” Harry hadn't been expecting that and glanced over.
The dwarf gave him a knowing look. “I've seen your expression when your wolf leaves and you have to stay behind. You've also the look of one when they are set on a journey.”
Harry felt a bit abashed as he asked, “That obvious?” He hadn't meant it to be. That itch and unsettled feeling that had caused him to leave the Drughu had begun to creep up on him. The boy had tried to push it aside because he really was enjoying his time with the Dwarves as was Padfoot. All the same he knew that he would have to find a way to extricate himself from the mountain people, but hadn't figure out a polite way to do so. It seemed that he might not have to.
“Only to those that have a wandering spirit. And something tells me that you are meant elsewhere.”
Giving the dwarf an inquisitive glance, Harry wasn't disappointed when the other continued. “Your wolf is far too intelligent. More so than any warg or wild wolf I have ever come across or heard about. I've not seen either of your ilk before.”
“Erm.” The boy wasn't quite sure how he was to respond to that statement so decided that he should probably keep his mouth shut.
Balin just gave Harry a small smile and patted the boy on the shoulder. “I've given instruction to the others to prepare you a bag whenever you decide to go, lad. No hard feelings. You are always welcome back here if you choose to do so.”
Relief warred with hurt, confusion, and eagerness to be off. As if either seeing or sensing his conflicting emotions, the dwarf once again gave him a pat and wandered off allowing him to be alone with his thoughts. He knew that the dwarves were all happy being here, Balin had even told him about how he had lost his own home of Erebor when he was but a child of seven. Harry believed it had been these memories of home that had spurred part of the dwarf's reason for trying to take the mountain back a hundred and seventy-one years later.
“Sense anything, Padfoot?” Harry asked curiously as he came upon the wolf near one of the tunnels and placed a hand along the canine's shoulder. Padfoot butted his head against the boy's chest causing him to laugh and pet him. “Come on, I got something to tell you.”
After telling Padfoot what Balin had said confessed, “I don't want to seem ungrateful, but he was right. I've been itching to leave and you have too haven't you?” When the wolf pressed into his side he continued, “Think we should head out tomorrow? I don't want to go out onto the mountain after dark.”
Padfoot made a sound of confirmation, and so the duo made preparations to leave. It was a bit difficult to say goodbye to Ori, Flói, Balin, and even Náli and a few others. They did make their goodbyes though keeping it brief making it easier on Harry who already felt it hard to swallow and his stomach churned a bit. Náli of all people had surprised him by gifting him one of the practice daggers he'd been using. “I'll not have you dying due to lack of a proper weapon.” Harry had been offended the first time Náli had taken one look at his stone weapons and laughed. According to the dwarf he'd be in a right pickle if his knives broke and said they were toys. And now the dwarf was giving him a 'real' knife that he could depend on not to shatter.
After that the boy had to flee so the Dwarves wouldn't see the moisture gathering in his eyes refusing to let the tears fall and fought them back. He didn't think they would appreciate them so scrubbed his eyes with his arm and leapt atop Padfoot. As soon as they were clear of the mine and into the open air, Harry couldn't help but revel in the feel of actual sunlight upon his skin. He shut his eyes and basked with his head tilted up towards the sky while Padfoot sure footed ambled his way along the rocky terrain. They were soon down the mountain but the wolf wanted to show his boy the pool he had drank from and took Harry there. By the time they got there, Harry had collected himself and was curious about the wolf's actions. He followed Padfoot's lead though and when indicated slipped off him and approached the water. Kneeling, he gazed at it and stared in wonder when he didn't see himself reflected back in it. He did almost fall in though trying to whip around to stare up at the sky in wonder after seeing the stars in the pool but not in the actual sky. Padfoot's teeth on his shirt was the only thing keeping him from falling backwards into the water. While Harry gave a heartfelt and embarrassed, “Thanks for that.” Padfoot huffed.
While they weren't sure where they wanted to go, they did know they wanted to be away from the mountain and the goblins that clambered about it at night, so they began a leisurely pace eastwards. The duo enjoyed their journey through the vales and land counting it a blessing for their lack of encounters with other peoples. After their stay with the Dwarves and accruing some friends among them, coming into contact with anyone else even those they were looking forward to such as more Drughu, would be painful. They didn't want to have to say goodbye again. It was time for them to travel again just the two of them and enjoy their journey as they had before when they first started on their trip. They had followed the river northwards once they came upon it. It was bet by another smaller river that seemed to lead back towards the mountains. There were marshlands and old ruins of houses on both sides of the larger river that they could see. The duo were ever cautious but believed that it was abandoned and that only animals lived in the area.
Not wanting to go back towards the mountains just yet it meant if they wanted to go any further they would have to attempt a crossing. Padfoot had Harry stay put while he ventured out and tested the waters depth and strength of it's current. He came back after giving a full body shake to rid himself of excess water. After a brief tug on the boy's sleeved arm, Harry got the gist. They were going to go swimming. Harry had to remove the Dwarven belt and knife before he untied the braided clothe belt and pulling his tunic over his head he folded it and placed it in his satchel which he then handed over to Padfoot who took the strap into his teeth. The knife belt then was replaced at his waist not wanting to go without a weapon and didn't think it would weigh him down that much. Shivering already with the anticipation, Harry breathed in deep before letting it out mustering up his courage. He waded into the water overjoyed with the fact that it wasn't the middle of winter. It seemed that while they'd been with the Dwarves the early spring had given way to either late in the season or the beginnings of summer. That didn't stop the quick breaths that came as the water went further and further up his body until he was forced to bend forward removing his feet from the bottom of the river. He wasn't the best swimmer but he didn't have to resort to doggy paddling or having to cling onto Padfoot in order to cross.
Once on firmer ground, Harry shook himself much like Padfoot to rid himself of the water. The boy stayed by the bank while Padfoot explored to be entirely sure they were alone. While the wolf was gone, Harry pulled his shirt out of his satchel and tried to wring as much water out of it as he could before tossing it over a branch limb. He hesitated a moment before he removed his trousers and gave it the same treatment that his shirt had. Crouching down in order to be hidden, he stayed put as his gaze continued to roam and breathed a bit easier when he saw the form of Padfoot approaching. Seeing the relaxed gait of his friend, tension left Harry's body that he hadn't been aware of as he stood.
“Is it as old as it looks?” he asked staring at some of the run down houses he see but hadn't approached. Just as with the city that was built where the river and road connected, Harry was curious about what had happened to the people. It had to be Men since he'd learned from Ori and the others that Dwarves lived in Mountains. Those Hobbit things lived in burrows in hillsides. So it had to be Men like the Rangers that had lived in places like that city and here. Except, the houses here didn't seem as if they would accommodate those that were as tall as the Rangers.
After exploring a little bit and claiming a section for themselves to make camp, Harry went back to the water and made a fish trap. He also went about and collected some plants he knew were edible and guessed at after sniffing them and taking a tiny bite out of the plants. He was sure the berries would have been edible if it were a bit later in the season, but as he wasn't sure he didn't want to test it and get sick. He knew he was pushing his luck as it was. Harry knew that he could eat what provisions that the Dwarves had helped him pack, but he wanted those to last as long as possible.
He wasn't sure he wanted to stay very long in the swampland but it would offer them shelter and rest. No one would be able to sneak up on them without Padfoot becoming aware of intruders at the very least. They would be able to take their time to decide where they wanted to wander and if they wanted to stay close to the mountain just in case they wanted to go back for the winter.
It only took a few days before Harry and Padfoot both agreed that they couldn't stay there any longer and headed toward the large forest they had spied. With Harry astride the wolf they made their way there and stopped just at the threshold. Tilting his head as he stared at the forest with a contemplative expression, Harry's fingers unconsciously twisted into the wolf's fur gripping it a bit tighter. He wasn't sure if he wanted the forest to be uninhibited, to find another clan of Drughu there, or something completely different. “Well, we won't know just staying here, will we?” he murmured but it wasn't soft enough to escape Padfoot's notice. He whined questioningly which strangely reassured Harry in a way as he loosed his grip. With a bit more confidence and a smile he stated, “Alright. Let's see what this forest holds for us.”
Chapter 11: A Deadly Game of Hide-n-Seek
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The clatter of fast approaching horses drew attention from all those that were along and near the courtyard of Imladris. Riders and horses alike were spattered with travel and exhaustion was clearly visible on both. The Ranger had pressed the horses as hard as he dared to get his friend to someone who could take care of the injured arm better than those in the wild with no healing magic and only the medicinal properties of the plants to aid them. For the last leg of the journey Ohtar had been forced to tie Amras to his horse so the man wouldn't fall off. It would have overtaxed his own horse if Ohtar had tried to keep his friend in front of him. He thought it best for each horse to have one rather than two burdens.
“We need a healer!” Ohtar cried as soon as he was able, sliding off his horse with ease and rushing over to the slumped form of his friend. There was a flurry as both the riders and horses were seen to. The horses were led away with much grumbling about the state of the poor lathered things. There would be a lecture awaiting sure enough later, the elves were long accustomed to the Dúnedain and knew there had to be a pressing matter for them to treat their steeds thus.
“What has happened?” One asked as after they had helped the Rangers to a room to assess the injured man.
“His arm was nearly taken off by a warg,” Ohtar replied for the silent Amras whose eyes were glazed over in pain and fever. He blanched when the bandages were removed from the arm that was twice the size it should be.
The healer murmured as they made short work of removing the sleeve from the infected bite mark and then after a few commands, had assistance to work on the Ranger. Ohtar was sent away while the elves worked. Elrond came quickly and entered the room leaving Ohtar to pace after finding out that his Chieftain wasn't at Imladris but was in fact due within a week or so. He was confident that Lord Elrond would save his friend's life, but he wasn't sure if they had been in time for Amras to keep his arm. It seemed like hours before he was approached by Elrond to find out what had occurred. The man hadn't thought he knew much even when asked to repeat the event again with many pointed questions. When his tale was done, the elf looked pensive.
“It is strange,” Elrond murmured. “You are sure he claimed to have come from Eryn Vorn?”
Ohtar nodded. “He didn't come by the road, but he had stated had followed the Baranduin.” He had given his captain's reasoning for following the wolf and rider from Sarn Ford. “We only realized it wasn't a goblin when we were able to sneak up on the rider when he was sleeping.”
“Yes, when the warg tried to lead you away before circling back to attack.” Elrond held up a hand before the other could refute or argue the point. “Do you know where your captain is now?”
“We had plans to meet back near Tharbad if we could.”
“Hmmm.”
“Lord Elrond?” Ohtar questioned, breaking the thoughtful expression on the elf. “Amras? His arm, is it-?”
“It shall heal, but he'll not have full use of it anymore, I'm afraid.” What wasn't spoken was had they been any later and if Elrond had been less a healer, the man would have lost his arm and most assuredly would have if they had gone to Bree instead.
Ohtar was relieved and was sure that his friend would feel the same when he awoke. After speaking a bit more, he was given leave to relax which he did so gratefully. Elrond in the meantime sent out a few riders of his own to look into the matter and see if they could track down this mystery. It needed to be seen if it was dangerous or lent to a more benign design.
Glorfindel was one of the riders that had been sent out to try and find the strange duo. He had left the Ranger that had brought news to stay with his injured comrade. Making haste, he was able to find the Ranger Captain that he sought a few miles from Tharbad.
“Hail, Dúnedain ,” Glorfindel greeted the two Rangers as he drew close and dismounted. The two Rangers returned the greeting. “I bring word from Lord Elrond and to inform you that your injured comrade is recovering.”
Both men exhaled in relief at the glad tidings for both had feared that Amras hadn't been able to make it to Rivendell. It was curious to Glorfindel to find the younger Ranger looked put out when he the elf admitted that he did not know if Elrohir and Elladan had also been sent on the same seeking mission as he.
“Ignore him,” Nathor stated with a disproving look towards his subordinate. “He is holding a grudge for the boy taking and keeping his bow until he made his escape.”
“How did he come to lose it?”
The encounter with the boar was then told. Nathor hesitated before he produced the cut rope and handed it over to the elf. He stated his suspicions of the boy being able to wield a touch of magic. Neither Nathor or Thandir knew if this was something he had learned from the Drúedain if the boy had actually stayed with them. It might have come from a more nefarious people like those allied to Sauron and Angband so long ago.
“This isn't Morgul magic.” Glorfindel was stated assuredly after his examination of the rope. “I shall send word and ask Mithrandir about this all the same.”
Elf and Dúnedain parted ways after the former learned which direction those he was tracking headed. The Rangers had been sure the warg had headed back towards the Misty Mountains. Glofindel used the pass and spent many a week trekking along the vales between the mountains and the Anduin River. He did not believe the warg and it's rider would head to Lorien if he were allied with the enemy. There were no signs to indicate it either. The Dúnedan had indicated the boy indicated they had been heading north, so that was the direction Glorfindel focused on. It took time to search the Wilderlands. There he found traces that indicated someone had come by within that last few months. Ahead stood Mirkwood, to the north the Grey Mountains and to the south were the Brown Lands of Rhovanion.
“Come, Asfaloth. Let us see if there is any news from the Woodland Realm about our quarry.” So saying Glorfindel nudged the horse north to avoid the few Woodmen that still resided at the edge of Mirkwood.
Upon entering the forest both Harry and Padfoot felt conflicting emotions and thoughts running rampant through them. There had been awe at the size of the forest trees themselves. While their previous forest with the Drughu had been tall, these were even larger and grew much more closer together that some would find stifling. To both boy and wolf it felt wilder if that was possible. It made it more difficult but not impossible for them to traverse. All they had to do was watch where they stepped until they got used to all the roots and different way the tree and foliage grew.
Padfoot took in all the scents that he could and let out a soft whine that caused his boy to glance at him in question. Padfoot let out an anxious whimper letting his boy know that he wasn't sure of this forest. His ears rotated this way and that trying to pick up all the sounds or lack of it that caused some of his distress. There was an absence of birdsong, the chatter of squirrels and the scrapes of their tiny claws as they scaled and scampered about the boughs of the trees. The scents he could smell on the air were all wrong as well. A whine was pulled from the wolf's throat as he pressed closer to his boy seeking as well as offering solace for the strangeness of the wood. He was grateful when his boy reached up to run his fingers through his fur, petting him.
Harry gave a shaky smile and then made a face when Padfoot licked his hand. Absently wiping the wolf slobber off his hand onto his shirt, the boy took a few strides into the forest, glanced upwards and turned in a slow circle taking it all in. Once done, he gave a shrug before he began to walk further with Padfoot staying right next to him. As they wandered both took note how the light was vastly different as it tried to make its way through the dense canopy. “I don't think this is a tame forest,” Harry murmured feeling his thought was right. His lips turned upwards into a smile when Padfoot gave a yip of agreement. “Let's go exploring, shall we?”
The boy ignored Padfoot's warning bark when he took off running making the wolf quickly lope behind him to keep him in sight. While it seemed his boy had the mind of exploring for the fun of it, the wolf had other priorities. He didn't begrudge his boy the moment of excitement. Since their run in with the Menfolk the boy was always at least a little cautious when traveling. It had been good for them to find the Dwarves so they could have a bit of relaxation and know that kindness and acceptance wasn't just limited to one kind of people. That didn't mean that there weren't more like the Rangers which was why the wolf was more keen on seeking out what could pose a danger in this forest. The forest prickled at Padfoot's instincts.
When it came to settle for the night, the wolf dug them out a den between tree roots and made sure that Harry was towards the back well protected. The wolf had growled showing there was no room for argument, that the boy was to stay put while Padfoot went to place scent markers. As far as he could tell, he was the apex predator in these woods. Any animal that came across the wolf's scent would know better than to invade his territory. His boy wisely hadn't moved from the den while he'd been gone and didn't fuss when it was time to sleep and Padfoot put himself closer to the opening.
Each day they would explore and after a few days went a bit further traveling northward trying to find a water source. While the forest muffled some noises, Padfoot could still faintly hear the sound of the river they had crossed and made sure to be traveling as parallel to it as they could. He didn't trust this forest just yet and wanted to be sure that they could flee if need be. The wolf halted when his hearing picked up the sound of voices and activity. Trotting closer, the wolf slowed to a walk then watched while hidden behind a thicket. His nose took in all the scents while his eyes gazed about seeing what looked like a village. Unlike the one where he'd stolen the pig from, this one had complete wooden houses. There were also very few people.
Turning away, Padfoot made sure to move their den further away from this area and headed south. He well recalled his treatment and how the last men they had run across had treated his boy. The wolf huffed when Harry wanted to know why they had to move instead of trusting him and doing as he was told! Even after a reprimanding nip, the boy insisted on knowing what the danger was. Knowing that Harry would trudge out on his own and likely end up in trouble, the wolf gave in. The two crept back up to the clearing where the houses were and they both spied on the small village for awhile before it seemed the boy came to his senses. After that, much to the wolf's pleasure, he didn't question Padfoot when he herded him rather than allowing him to choose to continue wandering where he will northward.
That didn't mean that the he wasn't curious when they came upon a lone cottage that caused them to pause. Boy and wolf had been leisurely ambling along until they caught sight of the cottage which had both of them on alert as they hid to find out who else lived in the forest, without being seen themselves. Harry scrambled up a tree and crouched on a branch peering through the leaves as far as he dared. Padfoot lay at the base of the tree using the trunk as well as the shadows to help him blend in and disappear. Used to hunting and having to wait, the wolf did much better than the boy who was growing bored even while he was tense and his stomach twisted with nerves. Shifting to relieve some pressure from his legs, Harry nearly lost his grip and fell out of the tree when Padfoot gave a warning noise. Recovering quickly, the boy narrowed his eyes as he gazed towards the door of the cottage and then frowned when he didn't see or hear anything that would have caused the wolf to alert. Then he saw it, but only because there was a flutter of movement among the browns and greens of the forest. It had to be a man because he was at least a head taller than the Dwarves and despite his long beard, he wasn't dressed at all like his mountain friends. The brown clad man carried a strange branch on in one hand and a small animal in the crook of the arm not holding the branch.
The man paused when he was halfway to the cottage, his head moving and eyes gazing in the general direction in which boy and wolf hid. Harry resisted shrinking down as much as he could but still felt his muscles tense further causing him to almost quiver as he held his breath. Could the man sense them? It didn't look as if he had actually seen them as his head and eyes moved a bit as if searching. Neither Padfoot or Harry moved as they waited to see what the strangely dressed man would do. After giving the area another sweep, the man went into his house. Letting out the breath he'd been holding, Harry shuffled back towards the trunk of the tree and looked downwards to find that the wolf hadn't taken his gaze off the door to the cottage.
“Padfoot?” he questioned with a whisper wondering why the wolf hadn't moved or made a sound to indicate what they should do next. When he didn't get a response in any form except silent stillness, Harry huffed and began to make his way down the tree. Right as his foot left the second to last branch, Padfoot shot up and gave a warning bark that was directed towards both the stranger as well as Harry. Halting his progress, and startled when he heard a voice trying to sooth the wolf, Harry pulled himself back up and crouched on the tree limb being careful to not disturb the smaller branches. Oh so carefully, he laid himself flat along the branch, wrapped his legs on either side to get a good grip just in case, and used his hands to part some of the leaves with little noise as possible. Peering out, he stared at the strange man this time without whatever small creature he'd taken into his cottage.
It seemed that while Harry had been occupied with his descent the man had left his home and approached their direction which caused Padfoot to reveal himself. While Harry was still hidden he took the time to study the stranger. And he was strange. It wasn't that his weathered face was surrounded by a mane of gray hair and beard, nor even the brown robe the man was wearing. It was a bit of everything all together combined with his expression and body language. It wasn't hostile or suspicious, more bemused and curious as well as if he was trying to puzzle something out. He didn't appear as if he wanted to harm or felt threatened by Padfoot, not if the tone of voice was anything to go by or anything else Harry had seen so far. The only weapon that the boy could see was that stick that could give him a good clouting if he allowed himself within range of it.
Harry could either climb back up into the semi protection the canopy gave and try leaping to another tree, something he did quite often and found fun when not put on the spot like this. Or he could drop down next to the protection of Padfoot knowing the wolf wouldn't let the man hurt him and be in a better position to leap onto the wolf so they could run away. As the man seemed to still be trying to communicate with the wolf whose ears were pulled back and eyes were squinted in his own version of suspicion, Harry made his decision. The boy carefully sat up then continued his climb down to the lowest branch and dangled himself for a few seconds allowing his and the startled man's gaze to meet before letting go to land in a crouch beside his furry protector. The sudden motion had caused the man to back up a bit more than Padfoot's abrupt movement had.
As Harry stood, he stared at the man suspiciously. He felt different than the Rangers. Up close to him like this with an unimpeded view he could very well believe the man was ancient despite not looking shriveled. There wasn't a slouch to him, but the boy still got that feeling.
"You have a friend.”
He sounded confused and a bit disappointed to Harry. From their past encounters it always befuddled people that Harry was with Padfoot, but this strange man was the opposite. It appeared as if he was confused as to why Padfoot would be with Harry! That was a bit novel for the boy. “If he does?” He challenged causing the man to blink at him.
“It quite surprising is all.” Yes, there was definitely a quality of disappointment and confusion in the stranger's voice.
Before Harry could question why that was so, the man continued. “You had better get home and not wander any further south.”
Glancing southward, Harry was curious why the man didn't want them going that way and where the man thought that their home was. Padfoot brought the boy's attention back to him though when he'd taken Harry's sleeve in his teeth and and began to walk back away from the stranger. All the while, Padfoot kept himself between his boy and the strange old man. With sufficient distance between them, Harry was given the instruction to get atop the wolf. Harry complied but was still very curious and confused. It seemed that Padfoot didn't think the man a danger because he didn't run, but trotted away back towards their current den.
The next day Padfoot had Harry climb atop him again as they went through the forest heading northward but giving the clearing they'd seen the houses in a wide berth. The wolf hadn't wanted to alarm the boy about the things he sensed in the forest knowing that Harry could feel a duller version than that of the wolf. Both could tell there was something wrong with this forest and it was a lot stronger when they had gone southward. The man likely knew the cause, but Padfoot didn't trust him despite the man not giving off anything threatening at that moment. He needed to find an area that was unoccupied to settle in until it was time to move on.
It was the laughter that drew the elves. The ones that had been on patrol had first felt the difference in the forest for the past few weeks. They had wondered at it then decided to satiate their curiosity if not for themselves then for their king who would want to know. They had followed it spurred on by the sound of the laughter. It was clear, bright, and full of joyful amusement. There was something to that sound that lightened the elves' hearts and demeanor. The laughter was interspersed by the sounds of a flute. When they found the source they couldn't help but stare at the child who danced around being chased by a large black wolf in a friendly way. The boy seemed to be teasing the wolf with the flute music and dancing away to keep from being tackled to the ground. The wolf was yipping and dancing about as well in his way to try and capture the child. The elves thought their eyes were deceiving them, but they quickly began to whisper among themselves. Some of the words that kept being repeated were 'Huan' and 'elf-child'.
Suddenly the wolf stopped it's playful sounds to those of aggression as it spun to place itself in front of the child blocking him from the elves. Ears were jutted out to the sides, lips curled back form teeth as it snarled and gave warning growls, hackles raising. The boy had frozen at the first sign of the wolf's nature changing before quickly placing his flute into his bag and leaping atop the wolf.
“Wait!” An elf called out but they paid no heed, the wolf quickly darting away. The elves tried to follow but the wolf was able to leap further and had longer strides than they. The black coloring along with the child's grey-green tunic helped to blend them into the forest to hide from even the sharp vision of an elf.
The elves didn't give up and were set to track down the two. They split into groups one making sure to go and inform their king what they found in their wood.
They were surprised to see Glorfindel there already talking with their king when they arrived in the halls of the Elven King. Quickly they told of their find which seemed to be exactly who Glorifindel had been seeking. He seemed as shocked as Thranduil when they stated they were sure that the boy had elven blood in his veins.
“Dúnedain?” Glorfindel questioned why the Rangers he'd spoken to wouldn't have recognized one of their own. That notion was dispelled as Thranduil's elf shook his head in the negative and continued to speak.
“The Edain rarely can tell the difference between our kind and theirs. Even those that have been around elves wouldn't know an Elven child from one of their own at first glance.”
“Peredhel?” Thranduil mused with tilted head in thought. It would make much more sense for the child to be half-elven.
“Either way, it leaves questions that need be answered.”
He was cursed. That was the thought that kept going through Harry's head as he ran as fast as he dared along a tree branch leaping from one to another. His heart was pounding in his chest with his fear as he glanced back to check and see if he was still being pursued. Looking forward again he made a daring leap and pinwheeled his arms before catching his balance when he landed. As he pressed himself against the trunk of the tree to hide as well as catch his breath, Harry took a few deep shuddering breaths trying to rein in his fear and calm his breathing.
After they had fled northward from the tree men, ever northward which the boy was now regretting, they had been finding bad luck. They had known that food seemed to be scarce in these woods. Padfoot found doe that he had allowed Harry to eat from first and take a portion to try and make dried meat for provisions. The wolf disappeared quite often likely to find his own food since he could move fast like he had when they had scaled the mountain the second time. Harry had a suspicion Padfoot had stolen things from either the old strange man or from the people in the wood houses. Whichever it was, the wolf always brought back a full skin of water that Harry would ration until it was empty.
It didn't seem how hard they tried the tree people kept finding them! They didn't seem to be scared off by Padfoot and Harry was eternally grateful that they didn't decide to shoot his wolf full of arrows. They seemed to want to talk, but Harry couldn't understand anything they were saying! And they were tall like the Rangers which meant they were trouble. So both Harry and Padfoot had fled, but now, he was thinking maybe they should have either left the forest or gone south despite what the old man had told them.
Hearing the particular sound that the creature made from it's legs upon the wood and the sound of it's pincers, the boy desperately looked about for a place to hide. He flung himself away from the trunk and towards another tree with a branch that looked like it could bend without breaking from his light weight. In his desperation he'd miscalculated and hadn't seen the bit of rot that caused the branch to break with an ominous cracking sound. When he fell with greater momentum than planned, he slammed onto a branch that drove the breath from his lungs. It had also caused a nasty gash bruise on the back of his head where it collided with tree since he'd landed on his back and unable to keep his head from hitting. He tried to pull air back into his lungs with a painful gasp. It hurt and his head throbbed as he lay stunned.
A wolf's howl, Padfoot's howl, brought him to as he blinked and tried to sit up. He hissed as he did so and felt as if he was going to lose his lunch as his vision swam and his stomach threatened to rebel. Shakily, he tried to stand to continue to try and evade the giant spider that had decided he was going to be its lunch. Only, when he went to stand and take a step, he overbalanced which caused him to miss and his foot touch only air. Tilting precariously, he went over and free fell until he felt something solid collide with his side. It happened so fast. One moment he was falling, the next, he'd been caught in Padfoot's jaw's with the wolf twisting, trying to keep from plowing face first into the ground with Harry. He was aware of being jostled though and feeling even more like he wanted to throw up.
Confused, the boy felt as if his head was full of cotton and everything was blurred. No matter how much he blinked, things were wrong. As if from a distance he could hear Padfoot snarling and snapping, but when he tried to focus he could see that his wolf was standing guard over him. Woozy and knowing that Padfoot would keep him safe, he allowed himself to tilt over and curl into a ball and try and breathe as he closed his eyes.
Continuing to snarl and lunge at the men when they tried to approach his boy, Padfoot wouldn't let them near them. The spiders had done a number on both of them. When they had come across the first spider, Padfoot and been angry it hadn't recognized him as higher on the food chain it when it had tried to attack them. The creatures tasted foul and smelled as if they were infected, so he quickly gave up trying to bite them recognizing the danger in that. He had become enraged when it had been able to scratch Harry with its stinger when he was trying to dodge it. Thankfully the thick shirt he'd received from the Rangers had absorbed it the most as it pulled at the material. That was when he had Harry try and flee while he took care of the spider. He hadn't known there were more of them, though he should have.
Just as with Harry, Padfoot wasn't feeling well from the bits of ingested spider which fueled his need to protect himself and his boy. It didn't matter that they weren't brandishing weapons at him and had decided to fell the spiders. No one was going near them while they were injured and vulnerable. When one tried to get too near, Padfoot would lunge and snarl at them snapping his jaws making them quickly retreat and they seemed to realize it wasn't a good idea to try and distract him with one of them while another tried to get to his boy.
The elves had made sure to keep keep track of the wolf's passage in the forest, finding signs of where he'd been. When they had finally found fresh tracks they found the wolf without the boy. They also found a spider or two that had been hiding themselves. Whether it was because they thought the new additions to the forest were an easy meal, or they were desperate for food, they had made a grave mistake. They made quick work of the spiders and backed off when the wolf howled. He paused as if waiting, ears twitching even while keeping his gaze on the elves. Apparently having heard something, it had sprinted and the elves had followed to watch in horror as the child was plummeting toward the ground. Before any of them could act, the wolf was already in motion, leaping and catching the boy by his side in his maw.
When the wolf had placed his burden gently on the ground he had rounded on them snarling. They tried to speak calming words, letting him know they posed no danger. No words seemed to penetrate whatever protective mode the wolf was in. Or perhaps he was too injured?
“Glorfindel!” One cried in relief seeing the balrog slayer. “He won't let us near to treat the child.”
Glorfinedel's eyes widened when he saw that the child's eyes were shut. “That is not good,” he murmured. Motioning for the others to back away, they did so while shifting their gazes from the older elf, to the wolf, child, and their surroundings.
“Peace,” he tried. “We won't harm your charge. We only wish to help.”
There was no comprehension in the wolf's posture. He continued to snarl at the elf, body tense and ready to lunge if need be with his ears jutted out listening for threats while his gaze kept that of Glorfindel's. Pausing the elf wondered, “Can you not understand me?” No response but what he and the rest of the elves had been getting. Considering, he then switched to Westron, the more common tongue throughout Eriador. “Peace, fierce one. We don't want to harm you or the young one. We only wish to help. Will you let us?”
Finally! There was a response from the wolf as his savagery was lessened and pulled back but still gave a warning growl when Glorfinel took a step forward. “Peace,” he soothed. “Will you not let me help you and the young one? It is not good for him to be asleep right now.” Not if the boy was poisoned by the spiders and they weren't entirely sure of his condition.
The wolf seemed to take in and consider his words before he stepped backwards and whined as he nuzzled the boy's face and gave it a lick when there was no response. His head snapped up and he gave a low growl when Glorfindel took another stop forward and practically snarled when one of the others moved. Giving the signal for them to stay put and move further away, the elf waited for the wolf to allow him to move another step closer. The blond elf's patience was rewarded when he was allowed to touch the child under the sharp eyed gaze of the wolf who likely wouldn't hesitate to try and rip his throat out if he tried anything.
While sleep would be good for the boy to rest physically to allow his injuries to heal, Glorfindel first had to find out the seriousness of any other injuries. There was a huge chunk of his shirt missing on the side, but it seemed the graze he had gotten wasn't serious and there hadn't been any poison injected into the boy. The scratch would go away quickly. Feeling along the child's limbs he noted there was no broken or dislocated bones which was a blessing. There was a large bump on the boy's head though which would explain his unconscious state. The child had a concussion. Sitting back on his heels now that he knew there wasn't a great danger, Glorfindel studied the boy. His hair was dark like those most commonly found in Imladris rather than the blond and silver found in the woodland realm and Lothlórien.
“I'm going to pick him up.” There was a low rumble from the wolf. “You are more than welcome to join us, but he needs somewhere more comfortable to heal and rest.” When there was no audible answer from the wolf, he glanced over to see it studying him. After a bit it hugged and sat down giving the elf his permission to pick the child up. Nodding his head, he stated, “Thank you.”
With gentle carefulness Glorfindel picked the boy up and with him cradled close to his chest he turned to the other elves and gave a nod. Keeping to Westron so the wolf wouldn't become suspicious and decide that they were playing him falsely, he stated, “Let's get him back to the Thranduil's halls.”
Notes:
So this was originally supposed to be part of the last chapter, but I had to shut my computer down and became two chapters instead. Elves! At last; which I'm sure a lot of you had been waiting for and possibly been expecting from the start. Thank you so much for your patience LOL. And you even had a Radagast cameo.
Secondly: When I had begun to write the story in the early drafts I waffled between the clichéd Elfling Harry and having him have elven blood somewhere further back more in line like the Dúnedain. Which is why I had previously stated I hadn't intended for him to be an elfling, but I was convinced/persuaded otherwise. Sorry to everyone!
Thirdly: Assume when the elves are speaking especially with each other it's all in their own language. I am lazy and don't want to frustrate people by having Elvish there and then having to either translate it or force them to google.
Fourthly: I will be busy for the next month or two so hopefully these past couple updates will hold you? Please don't kill me!
Chapter 12: Meeting Elves
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The Elvenking turned the Dwarven dagger in hands over and over idly as his mind tried to fit the pieces of the mental puzzle together. He had been equal parts bemused, curious, irritated, and even slightly apprehensive when Glorfindel had returned with his quarry. Thranduil had been given the description that the Dúnedain had relayed about the canine, but to see the creature in the flesh still caused shock to ripple through not only him, but all those that hadn't previously seen it during their patrols of the forest. He could see why the Dúnedain might have mistaken it as a warg. The creature did look a bit like the lesser wolves that had become twisted and bred for vile purposes. While his pelt wasn't the usual gray or even white like those of the north, neither did the black fur seem to have any blue sheen to it as Draugluin was reputed to have had. Yet, like the father of the werewolves, this strange black wolf was far too intelligent and behaved like and yet unlike a wolf. Thranduil had no doubts that this wolf had a soul in it. Unlike those twisted creations of Morgoth, this one for whatever reason had aligned itself to the half-elven child.
One whom they had no idea where he had come from or what threat he posed. The child's bag had been searched and it seemed like a lot of bits and bobs. Odd things that might strike a child's fancy, he supposed. It had been taken to the boy's room and the Elvenking had kept his distance from the protective canine that stood sentinel over the child when Thranduil gone to inspect his 'guest'. From appearances alone, one couldn't fault the Dúnedain or anyone else for believing the boy to a child of Men if none had seen a child of the Eldar or even those that were half as few and far between as they were. That didn't explain what the boy was doing in possession of a Dwarven dagger, harassing Dúnedain, and gallivanting in his forest with a creature that shouldn't be loyal to anything but the abominations that usually rode them into battle.
After his healer had confirmed Glorfindel's assessment that the child was fine and needed to allow his body to rest, Thranduil had swept out of the room. He had retreated to his throne while he tried to make sense of this new disturbance in his domain and how it would effect his people.
Glorfindel had heard tell of the boy from the view of the Dúnedain as relayed by Ohtar and Nathor. He was quite curious to learn of Harry's experience with the Rangers from his own perspective. From what he had observed himself the wolf was wary of anyone that came too near the boy for no reason or gazed too long. He seemed content with the healers, ears always at attention, yet his gaze would without fail settle on either Glorifindel or Thranduil the one time the Elvenking had come into the room. Those eyes didn't shift from Thranduil until the elf had left the room, then fell upon Glorfindel. When the elf didn't move from where he had settled to wait, the wolf's attention was returned to unconscious child and the healer.
It was disconcerting to say the least to have that gaze leveled at you. It was too intelligent. Too knowing. It was intriguing as well. He did not blame Thranduil for his retreat rather than waiting or forcing the boy to wake to get the answers he was obviously wanting.
The healer left and it surprised Glorfindel when the wolf instead of returning to staring at him, had laid it's head upon the boy's legs, gaze steady upon his slack face. It allowed the elf to study them as well as ponder upon the mystery. The wolf's behavior in the forest had been defensive rather than antagonistic. Neither child or wolf gave off any malice and Glorfindel much doubted they were connected with anything Morgul as he'd stated to the Dúnadan. It didn't rule out the possibility that the boy did know how to sunder the rope another way. He had his suspicions but would have to wait for the boy to wake as well as talk with Mithrandir before he voiced them.
A movement from the bed brought the elf's attention back to the present. It seemed the child was going to be waking soon. Standing caused the wolf's ears to swivel in his direction so Glorfindel informed, “I'm going to go see about getting something to eat for him when he wakes.”
Upon leaving the boy's room he ignored and waved off any that had been with him in the wood and wanting to know if the child was conscious yet. The tray he assembled was for a light meal not knowing just what the boy's diet was like but knowing it couldn't have been particularly healthy. Who knew how long he had been in the forest. There weren't many edible creatures in the forest that would provide sustenance for the child. Only Thranduil and his elves knew the safe places where the forest hadn't been completely corrupted yet. Nor was Glorfindel aware of just how long the child been traveling with the wolf. The elf could only hazard a rough guess of moths from his time with the Dunedain and tracking the duo across the Misty Mountains and into the Woodland Realm.
He returned just outside of the boy's room to hear the utterance, “I'm hungry.”
“You're awake, I'm just in time it seems,” Glorfindel stated warmly. Amused that apparently the wolf hadn't given his presence away if the boy's startled movement was any indication. The look of suspicion leveled at him was ignored as he placed the tray on the end of the bed as it had been vacated by the wolf. Retreating back to his chair, he observed the interaction between the strange duo. The boy had glanced at the wolf who huffed and nudged his nose into the boy's side giving a noise that Glorfindel wouldn't have been able to guess at. It must have made sense to the boy who gave a petulant glance toward the canine then gave a huff and looked towards the tray. When his stomach gave a rumble, the elf laughed. “Mayhap you should eat first before we discuss anything?”
Giving a nod, the boy didn't hesitate to pull the tray onto his lap and tuck into the food as if he hadn't had a good meal in awhile. It would seem that the boy wasn't too trusting when it came to the meat on the tray as he was more opting to scarf the fruits, vegetables, and bread. Watching him as he ate, Glorfindel was relieved to see that the food didn't seem to invoke any nausea. Still, it seemed as if his coordination was still slightly off as his reach to grab the food wasn't perfect.
Now that he was awake and not unconscious, the elf had been able to see the unusual color of the boy's eyes. He'd never seen eyes that color before on any elf, man, or dwarf. The child also seemed older than what his relaxed unconsciousness gave off. It was the look in his eyes and the way his body language came across. It gave more credence to the claim he was half-elven. His features seemed more similar to the Noldor, yet there were still enough there that was foreign that pointed towards a different lineage.
Once the boy slowed down and pushed the tray a bit away from him more towards the wolf which gladly ate the meaty leftovers, the two stared at each other. The boy's gaze was a mixture of confusion, suspicion, and curiosity. Glorfindel's was assessing to see if there were any other symptoms from the boy's tumble and experience with the spiders. Thranduil had not been pleased to find that a few were still wandering and trying to make nests in his wood this far north.
Giving the boy a gentle smile he introduced himself then asked for the boy's and his companion's names to get their conversation started.
“Harry and he's Padfoot.” The wolf having finished and licked his chops lay his head back down upon the bed next to the boy. Harry's hand went and started petting the wolf whose gaze didn't waver from watching Glorfindel once again.
“It's a pleasure to meet the both of you. Harry, can you tell me the last thing you remember before you woke up here?” While he would like to hear the child's story, Glorfindel thought it best to determine if there was any permanent damage from the knock his head had taken. Neither he nor Thranduil's healer had found anything to indicate such, but it was best to be cautious.
The boy's eyes went towards the wolf as his brows furrowed in thought. “We were in the forest?” The slightly questioning tone would have worried Glorfindel but it was quickly alleviated as Harry's voice gained surety. It seemed that the boy had just been collecting his thoughts.
“We were playing in the forest but then the men were chasing us. And we ran into a giant spider. I don't like spiders.” This was said with a full body shudder from recalled memories.
“I assure you, none that live here like the spiders.”
Latching upon the topic, Harry wondered, “Where are we?”
“You are still in the Woodland Realm that was once known as the Greenwood but more commonly called Mirkwood these days by most folk. At the moment we are in the halls of it's king, Thranduil.”
It was interesting to watch the boy's mouth turn down in a frown as he mulled over those words. There was no recognition of any of the names. Harry's face was expressive and showed exactly what he was thinking which was still confusion as if he was wondering why he was in the halls of a king. It also showed his annoyance and frustration when Glorfindel added, “He is quite curious to know why you were in his wood.”
“If you people don't want trespassers you really out to put up signs!” Was not the retort or answer Glorfindel had expected. The elf laughed and wondered if Harry's replies were thought out or if he just stated such things naturally. Either way, he was endearing himself to Glorfindel. He could see why he might have frustrated the Dúnedain, more so that younger one.
“Not your first time trespassing, I take it?”
At the teasing tone, the boy's arms crossed over his chest and a gimlet eye was his response. The boy muttered something rather unflattering about signs and people under his breath that had Glorfindel containing his laughter but not his amusement. “You might not want to say such things when you speak with Thranduil.”
The startled expression caused the elf to wonder what had caused it. The peculiar mix of embarrassment and defiance aimed at him had Glorfindel gaze back with his own open honesty and curiosity. The elf was taken aback when the boy's expression morphed to a guarded one. Glorfindel was puzzled over the defensive attitude the boy was exuding along with the anxiety. The wolf whom had been silent and at one point had shut it's eyes during the discussion because the elf was very much aware of it's gaze upon him once more. Harry seemed hesitant when he voiced his question of, “What happens now?”
“What do you mean?”
“For trespassing.” Harry scowled. The wolf gave a whine that had the boy reaching out absently to pet the furry muzzle and head.
“I imagine it would depend on your reasoning.” It would also depend on the Elvenking's humor. Lord Elrond would likely have a say in the matter as well as it was him that had tasked Glorfindel to find and question the child. His answer clearly didn't satisfy the boy the scowl didn't leave his face only deepening.
“We're only traveling! We're not harming anyone. Why does everyone have a problem with that?”
“Peace,” Glorfindel raised his hands. “I assure you, no one here wants to harm you.” If anything it was the opposite and the boy would be fending off those that would wish his presence.
The derisive snort he received in reply spoke volumes which had him wondering, “What happened before?”
Harry gave him an assessing gaze before glancing to the wolf as if seeking his opinion. A lick to his face was the boy's reply which caused Harry to grimace and glare half-heartedly as he gently pushed the muzzle away from him and wiped his face. The wolf settled once more with his head draped on the bed while the boy sighed and after crossing his arms allowed himself to relax against the head board. “We were minding our own business following the river and had tried to decide which way to go when it crossed a road. Before we could, arrows were coming at us. We ran away but they chased us just like the one in the forest.” Tensing as if coming to a realization, the boy quickly asked, “The men in the forest, they weren't with the Rangers were they?”
Men in the forest? Did he mean the woodsmen? No, he meant the wood elves. Leaning forward, Glorfindel was curious. “Have you never seen an elf before?”
Perplexed the boy's voice came out as unsure. “No?”
The minute movement of the elf's lips betrayed his amusement. “Are you sure?”
“Yes?”
“I wouldn't be so sure about that.” Glorfindel watched as the boy puzzled that out before his eyes widened as he understood.
“You?”
Glorfindel gave an affirmative nod. “I am. As were those in the forest and all those that dwell in the Elvenking's halls.”
The boy's mouth opened before quickly shutting. A conflicted expression crossed his face before it was hidden away and replaced by open staring before he glanced towards to the wolf again. When it yawned lazily, Harry huffed but then turned his attention back to Glorfindel.
“So the elves weren't give me over to the Rangers?”
“Why should they?” He was only aware of one particular Dúnadan that would venture east of the Misty Mountains.
“Because-” he stopped and seemed to rethink what he was going to say as he still appeared to doubt Glorfindel's trustfulness. “They followed me and Padfoot and when they attacked us, well.” The boy shrugged. “Padfoot defended us and one of them ended up hurt.”
'Mauled' had been the Dúnadan's words that had spoken to Lord Elrond. Glorfindel hadn't seen the wound nor the men when they had rode in, but had heard about it second hand while the Ranger had been seen to.
“What happened next?”
They boy looked away, his mouth returning to it's scowl, and chose to focus on petting the wolf which was returning his gaze. “They didn't like that and threatened to slit my throat if Padfoot continued to protect me. They took us prisoner and were going to hand us over to their chieftain for hurting their friend. It was their fault though! They should have just left us alone. We weren't doing anything! It wasn't our fault we were near the Shire. All they had to do was have a sign that said no trespassers! Or they could have said something instead of attacking us like that. It wasn't as if we had any intention of going there.” The last was said in a grumble.
“Where were you intending to go?”
Harry shrugged not taking his gaze or hands away from the wolf. “We were just traveling. Don't really know where we're going. It was more fun until getting attacked and chased by Rangers and spiders.”
“How did you begin to travel?” That question had gained him the boy's attention and focus. It looked as if he didn't understand the question or what he meant by it. “Why did you start to travel?”
Again, it seemed as if Harry bit back what he was going to say and rethought it and looked back to the wolf. “The people we were with were nice enough, but we couldn't stay there forever. We left as soon as the weather let us. Been traveling since.”
The elf wondered at the omission of the Drúedain. He was also curious where the child was before he was with the Drúedain. Perhaps it was the wolf's presence that sent them to wander? One question that begged to be asked Glorfindel was hesitant to do so. Gathering his own thoughts he decided to stand bringing the other two occupants of the room's attention to him. “Harry, how old are you?”
The boy's eyes widened, hands stilling, as he stared back at Glorfindel with confusion that became momentary panic then ended with a brief lost expression. The elf wasn't sure if Harry was even aware that he was broadcasting so much. Finally, the boy looked away with a frown and a muttered, “Does it really matter? I'm old enough.”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“On you.” Glorfindel almost hadn't answered but paused before he left the room and the boy to this thoughts without explaining.
Elves were almost as bad as Dwarves. This was the conclusion that Harry came to when he was allowed out of the sick room. While the elf that had brought him food had spoken to him in a language he could understand, the others didn't. They spoke in some other language that sounded a bit like the that spoken by the Rangers when they hadn't wanted Harry to know what they were saying. The only thing that kept him from disbelieving Glorfindel about their involvement with the Rangers were the fact that they were dressed differently and they also looked very different despite the heights being relatively the same. It seemed everyone no matter what they were spoke another secret language which was becoming very annoying. Thankfully there were a few who did seem to speak normal although it was accented.
He'd been out of sorts since his talk with the elf. It was strange. When he and Padfoot had been told about the Elves from the Drughu and then how the Dwarves were twitchy about the subject...Harry wasn't sure exactly what he had expected. Glorfindel hadn't been it though. At least he appeared to believe him about his and Padfoot's innocence when it came to their wanderings. It was only after he'd left though and Harry had pushed his frustration at the elf's parting remark that he realized that his fear of the Rangers hadn't been alleviated. Glorfindel had neither replied in positive or negative to the Elves handing them over to the Rangers should they cross the mountains and into the forest.
Whenever his thoughts started that way, Padfoot would nudge him and distract him. It worked and Harry found himself wandering about the Elvenking's Halls admiring it despite everything. While he wasn't completely enthralled with it or wanted to live in a place such as this, it wasn't too bad. He felt a bit guilty to like it a bit better than he had Moria. However, the boy would have loved to have been able to have a window with a nice breeze and sunlight. It would take them a long time to explore if they didn't get lost as it came across as a complete maze to him!
Hadn't that been a shocker, to learn that he was partially underground! Dwarves living in mountains underground hadn't come as that much of a surprise. Elves living the same way completely dumbfounded him. He didn't think either race would like the comparison. While he wanted to know what the contention was between the Elves and Dwarves, because Balin had seemed a bit reticent about Elves as well, he had bigger issues at hand to deal with. Mainly, how to get the Elves to leave him alone!
“It's worse than Moria,” Harry muttered making sure that he kept his voice as low as possible. From Glorfindel's reaction when he'd commented about signposts, the Elves had better hearing than the Dwarves or Men did. He didn't think that it would go over well if they heard him compare their halls to that of those occupied by Dwarves. That was why it came as a surprise and heightened his curiosity when he learned the reason behind the blend of stone and wood was due to the fact the Dwarves had helped cave the halls out for the Elvenking. It had been admitted grudgingly by the elf who was able to speak the same language as Harry and had volunteered to be his guide for the day.
They were like the Dwarves in another fashion as well. They kept trying to get him to wear shoes! The Elves kept leaving him shoes with the clothing that had been given to him to replace the ones he'd been wearing. The trousers and tunic weren't that bad and actually felt really nice although they felt strange to him. He did miss the shirt that he had gotten from the Rangers though, despite how he personally felt about them. The material had been made for continual wear and travel. The ones he was gifted by the elves left him feeling as if they would tear if he so much as climbed a tree! Not that he would be able to find out with how the Elves seem to always have him under their gazes. Nor had he been allowed outside.
Just like the Dwarves they seemed just as deaf and bemused whenever Harry tried to explain that he preferred to be barefooted. In the end, to save his breath when he realized they wouldn't listen or stop giving him shoes, and because it would be amusing for him, Harry made a game of it. Whenever he received a new pair of shoes, he would go exploring, wait until his guide was distracted by another elf, Harry pointing to something and asking what it was even if he didn't actually have an interest, or Padfoot would begin to make them nervous going too far or close and then Harry would quickly slip off his shoes and hide them. Or drop them off the edge of a bridge or set of stairs. It didn't matter as long as the shoes wouldn't trouble him no longer. Despite it all though, he always found a new pair which caused him to scowl before thinking of another way to dispose of said shoes. There was other ways to get his displeasure across he was sure, as well as to alleviate the boredom and monotony of his days.
“Oh, Padfoot!” Harry sing-songed causing his friend to look at him in curious anticipation. “How about we find a way to let them know that we need sunshine too, hmm?”
Notes:
So, I am alive and not homeless! Had been working to try and make sure that we didn't lose our apartment. Being homeless is not fun and didn't really want to do that again. Once was enough, thank you. I'm sure you all agree that is most important, yes? It has been sorted so I have another 6 months to a year before I have to worry again, LOL!
Chapter 13: Leaving Mirkwood
Chapter by Nobody Tosses a Dwarf (Madhattarproductions)
Notes:
Apologies if this chapter doesn't make sense as I am very tired. I am also so very sorry that I disappeared. It hadn't been my intention. I shall never abandon my fic and if I ever do I will write up what I basically had planned and give it up for adoption to anyone interested. Life has been very stressful. Latest thing had been my godmother having to have heart surgery in order to prolong her life.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Playful growls filled the room along with the distinct sound of material ripping and giving way. There was a shocked gasp which caused Harry to almost lose his control over his suppressed laughter. The elf who had entered the room to show the boy to breakfast when she came upon him holding a part of the sheet from his bed which was now a ruin the other half was still in the mouth of the wolf.
“What are you doing?” The elf's facial expression didn't give way to the incredulity that her tone did save the slight widening of the eyes. No, her expression was one of slight shock and horror.
“Playing tug-of-war.” It was stated as innocently as Harry was able. At the sound of distress the elf made, he continued, “Should I have used the blanket instead? We already used my shoes. I thought they would have been sturdier.” A pile of what could have been the shredded bits of a shoe lay near the paws of the animal. Its mate lay already destroyed upon the floor behind the boy.
Padfoot decided to take that moment to shake his head sharply and with force to try and get his boy to release his part of the sheet. Harry, having relaxed a bit, nearly tumbled forward and gave a brief scowl towards his friend. Neither Padfoot nor Harry blinked at the sound that escaped the elf as the sheet ripped a bit more, or how she waved her hands when Harry pulled hard not letting go, continuing in their game. It ripped further and with a final strong yank of his head, Padfoot was victorious while Harry landed with a grunt on his backside. While the elf didn't know which to confront first with reprimands, the wolf lay down and pawed at his trophy while pulling with his teeth. That settled the elf who stressed, “Those aren't for chewing!”
Smirking and using her distraction to his advantage, Harry leapt to his feet and sped towards the open door and through it, laughing when she called after him. Padfoot was soon at his heels both fleeing from the female elf. No one tried to stop him as he darted past, weaving around the elves that he bypassed who were becoming used to this sort of conduct. It wasn't a strange sight anymore to see the boy running about with someone constantly after him trying to corral him. The wolf running interference didn't help the adults and would always buy Harry time to at the very least hide. At those times after he was found he would decide they were playing hide-and-seek and then offer to count while the elf hid. That of course hardly ever worked and never on the same person twice.
It was on his excursions that he learned more about these wood elves and how they usually lived outside in the trees, using their king's halls as refuge. Harry didn't blame them as he would have preferred to be outside as well. The pillars carved to look like trees were a nice touch, but it paled next to the real thing. He thought of making a list of comparisons between the elves and the dwarves because he was sure the list would be larger than he had first thought it would be. It would likely irk both races if they ever knew the boy's private thoughts.
Peeking his head around a corner, Harry glanced about to see if anyone was paying him more attention than the usual curious then either fond or annoyed look as they went about their business. He'd been able to slip his minder with Padfoot's help. The wolf bought him precious time to be alone, explore, or get into whatever mischief he could manage while unsupervised. Seeing he was in the clear, Harry slipped into the kitchens glad that he had stumbled upon it during one of his excursions. Whenever he stopped by he could count on being fed and possibly entertained. Without exception, he would also learn something new.
It was how he'd learned that generally elven males did the cooking. There were some females too, but they weren’t as many as the men when it came to being in the kitchens. Harry had thought it just a peculiarity that set the Dwarves apart from the other races. The Rangers didn't count as knowing to cook while traveling so you don't starve is a skill that all should have. According to the Drughu and why Harry was given very thorough lessons even though it had mostly been the female Drughu that taught him. Many trying lessons that involved a lot of disasters that ended up going into Padfoot's stomach. Flói, who had laughed himself sick when Harry had asked if they were going to send for women to cook, had stated that Harry had best not ask that again near their women or he'd find himself with boxed ears, naivety and youth aside. As Balin had given permission for Harry to know things that weren't sacred or secret, one of the things that hadn't been a secret but more in the way of uncommon knowledge had been that Dwarven males outnumbered their females. So, it made sense that the men would know how to cook.
The elves were different. The men chose to cook! The women were entrusted with a super special recipe though that the men weren’t allowed to know. That was just weird!
It was how he learned that there were actually more than one kind of elf! He supposed it was a bit like how Balin and Ori had explained that there were different clans of dwarves. The elves like the dwarves seemed to enjoy songs and telling tales with them although they were vastly different from the deep voices he was used to and enjoyed. Sometimes he was privy to a bit of gossip which was either very boring for the boy or very entertaining. That was when they actually spoke in a language he could understand. It seemed that the majority didn't learn any tongue other than their own, so Harry was able to sometimes use that to his advantage as well to claim innocence when he was caught where he wasn't supposed to be.
Sneaking a few pieces of fruit, Harry quickly made his escape and began to wander. He didn’t want to be caught anywhere near the library after his last trip there. Harry had been banned from the library after Padfoot had caused a distraction allowing Harry to misplace as many of their books as he was able before his minder came to check on him. Harry had used the opportunity to not only relocate the books on different shelves but he also placed them with their spines facing in. It was their own fault for leaving him unattended as well as trying to get him to learn to read their squiggly lines of script. By the end of an hour during his tutoring session, Harry’s head hurt and was wishing there was a window he could escape out of. So much of their history was poetry! It was bad enough that it was a popular hobby. While it sounded pretty enough, it didn’t mean much to the boy nor the wolf and they would both rather be doing something else.
“I will not suffer that creature’s presence in my halls one day longer!” Thranduil hissed, unsure if he was speaking of the wolf or the child. He hadn’t wanted the wolf in his domain in the first place and had been willing to leave the boy to his fate outside his walls. It had only been curiosity and the golden haired elf that he granted leave for his healers to attend to the boy. He didn’t trust him nor his wolf, more so after seeing what lay behind the wolf’s gaze. The fact the boy was a menace added to the grievance of having to host them in his halls.
“You will not have to suffer long. They will return with me to Imladris,” came the calm reply while wondering what the troublemaking duo had done now. If they moved quickly they could make it before the snows began to make traversing the mountains more perilous. Now that Harry was clearly healed and getting into mischief it was time to broach the subject with the child of his altercation with the Dúnedain. The boy would likely have to pay some sort of wergild to the injured man and his family.
There was a look of acknowledgement as well as an expression that demanded that their departure would take place as soon as that very day if they could. Thranduil would be delighted when they would no longer be his problem but that of Elrond.
“Do you not have any doubts? A Dúnadan was nearly killed.”
“Their meeting was a mishap and badly handled from both sides.”
Thranduil barely blinked believing that the Dúnedain had acted accordingly. “I would hardly call it that. The only wolf riders have ever been loyal to the enemy.” While Glorfindel didn’t reply either in expression or verbal, the Elvenking leaned forward. “You have your suspicions as well, do you not?”
“I hesitate to say until we know more,” was all the other would voice.
Their meeting was interrupted by another elf coming in to inform their king about the child’s latest misdeed. Excusing himself, Glorfindel sighed as he went to see if he could extract Harry from his latest escapade to annoy his minders.
In retrospect it might not have been such a good idea to have continually antagonized the Elvenking. The tipping point had to have been replacing the wine with the juice that had been meant for Harry. It had been too good an opportunity to pass up. Serendipitous even. It had been exceedingly gratifying not to mention hilarious to see the Elvenking's expression when he'd taken that mouthful of juice expecting wine. Admittedly, it did little to improve the already low opinion Thranduil already held for either Harry or Padfoot. He hadn't hid his disdain nor his mistrust and suspicion of the duo from the start. Glorindel hadn't been very pleased either, but Harry thought it may be because he too had partaken of the 'wine'.
Suffice to say, they weren’t asked to ‘dinner’ anymore after that. Dinner being another word for interrogated! Someone else might have suggested ‘softly questioning’ but Harry knew better. He knew that the king had always been suspicious of them from the start and hadn’t liked them.
Harry couldn't say with any kind of sincerity that he was sorry for the incident nor that Glorfindel had been present during said prank. He didn't hate the golden haired elf, but neither did he particularly like him. The boy wasn't sure what he felt toward Glorfindel but if pushed he would have to say he was rather ambivalent at the moment. Their 'conversations' didn't help on that front either. They always left him out of sorts and for some reason, Harry was sure that the elf got more out of those than he did. On the boy's end he only ended up with a headache and a need to vent his irritation; which usually came out as his continual antics and being a general nuisance. Most of the elves were taking it in their stride and only suffering it due to his being a 'child', he was sure. Others were sure to be close to their breaking points and only stayed their hand due to what Padfoot might do in retaliation. That or they didn’t wish to take on Glorfindel.
What he hadn't expected but had been pleasantly surprised about from the outcome of the switching of the wine was for the Elvenking to have finally gotten his way. He had been wanting to kick the duo out of his halls since the moment it was assured that Harry wasn't going to keel over if he stepped foot out of the bed. He was sure that it hadn't happened sooner due to Thranduil's people being against it and he relented for them. Until Harry pushed too far.
“Well done,” Glorfindel greeted him as he entered the room from his discussion with the irate Elvenking. “It seems you have made your discontent well known and are getting your wish to leave.”
While those were words he'd been waiting to hear he couldn't help but take in the mien of the elf. He had come to read a bit of the nuanced expressions of the elves. There was one that he'd become an expert in which was practically radiating off the elf. It was a mixture of curiosity, concern and disappointment. A strange combination but was the norm for the interactions that he and Harry had had so far. Sighing, Harry wondered, “there's more, isn't there?”
“Indeed.” Glorfindel met and held his eyes. “We are to leave with autumn already upon us.”
“We?”
“Crossing the mountains will be more difficult but not as much as it would be during winter. We will have to be quick.”
During his stay, Harry had quite forgotten that Glorfindel wasn't one of Thranduil's elves but one of Elrond's who was associated with the Rangers and had sent the golden elf after Harry and Padfoot. He had learned about Lord Elrond and Imladris and the Rangers during one of his and the elf's discussions. Harry had felt a bit of betrayal at learning that and the purpose of the elf's presence. It had made sense why he'd said the Mirkwood elves had no reason to hand him over if Glorfindel was already there to do so himself.
Then registering what was being said about the mountains, he emphatically shook his head and gestured with his hands. “I'm not crossing those mountains!” Twice had been enough for him, thank you very much! He wanted nothing at all to do with goblins. If had to approach that mountain range again at all, he would only return to be with his Dwarven friends. Besides, he didn't want to go west, but to go either north or east. He wasn't quite sure which at the moment.
“You cannot stay here.”
Harry crossed his arms in a huff. It wasn't as if he wanted to be here in the first place. As soon as he was well, they should have just let him go. Instead that blasted magical entrance kept them inside. They had tested it more than once. “Guess we're at an impasse, cause I'm not crossing that mountain.”
He was sure that he heard the elf sigh as he replied, “you will have to at some point.”
“Says who?” Harry couldn't help but mutter without any real heat or wanting to prolong this argument. For all he and Padfoot knew, the duo could end up finding a place they really wanted to settle down and never have to go west of the mountains again. He would miss his Dwarven friends just as he missed those he'd made friends with among the Drughu.
It seemed though that he wasn't completely free, as he was supposed to stay with the elves that lived in the woods while Glorfindel gathered supplies for their journey. Harry didn't put up too much of a fuss, sure that he could slip away whenever he wanted to.
Harry heaved a sigh as he vainly tried to see the colors of the rising sun through the eaves of the tree he was currently resting in. One leg dangled down and swung as he hummed. He didn’t have to glance down to know that Padfoot lay at the base, keeping his gaze trained on him lest Harry should fall if he looked away for even a second. As if that could happen with how the elves hovered so close as their concern for him oozed from them, it was near smothering. There were those that seemed to be conflicted about his presence as they were naturally wary of Padfoot, so weren’t sure what to make of Harry. Nothing new there. It was just like those that were in the king’s halls.
It was proving to be hilarious - to Harry and Padfoot - how much Harry’s refusal to embrace the Elven culture baffled them. He was unwilling to learn their language because it gave him a headache to even try not to mention he was just plain stubborn. If he was to learn a language, he would much prefer to learn the tongue of his Dwarven friends. Sadly, he didn’t think it would ever come to pass. He did have to admit to himself though that it would benefit him if did learn the language so he’d know what those Rangers spoke when they switched tongues.
A glance downward confirmed that the wolf’s steady gaze upon him, ears twitching, and shifted to let Harry know they had or were going to have a visitor. Huffing in a bit of annoyance, Harry’s frown quickly morphed into a wicked smirk. The teen never thought of himself as a gifted singer, but he knew he wasn’t tone deaf, which he might have preferred to annoy his current keepers further. Opening his mouth, he sang:
“The wind was on the withered heath,
but in the forest stirred no leaf:
there shadows lay by night and day,
and dark things silent crept beneath.”
Harry had thought he had felt a bit suffocated in Moria and had missed the sun. There, at least, you could feel the air in the places where it came through the rocks. In the forest? It had been hard to breathe, but Padfoot had kept him distracted enough that he could ignore the feeling. Learning to avoid the creatures also took up most of his attention, always listening for something to stir the dead leaves and grass that might try to attack them.
“The wind came down from mountains cold,
and like a tide it reared and rolled;
the branches groaned, the forest moaned,
and leaves were laid upon the mould.
The wind went on from West to East;
all movement in the forest ceased,
but shrill and harsh across the marsh
its whistling voices were released.”
"Harry."
Glancing down through the branches, he saw Glorfindel looking up at him. When he saw he had his attention, the elf waved him down. He supposed it was time for them to be going then. Harry wasn’t sure he was going to follow placidly along to the elf’s lord where the Rangers waited. That was one of the things the blond had tried to talk to him about that Harry hadn’t wanted to discuss. He had stubbornly crossed his arms and refused to say much when the subject had been broached. He did have to admit though that he wasn’t sure that he wanted to spend the winter in the elf king’s forest. Nor did he think he would be able to stay under the mountain with his dwarven friends, despite how much he liked them.
At least while traveling, he could decide what he and Padfoot might do for the cold season. Maybe the nasty goblins wouldn’t attack them if the elf was along? Padfoot was quick, surely he could outrun the horse if need be?
Leaving his perch, he nimbly made his way down and jumped the last bit to land in a crouch beside Padfoot. Harry saw that there was a packed bag that would fit him sitting at the feet of the elf. Standing, he tilted his head to regard it curiously he clutched his own satchel closer to himself, his eyes narrowing. He had been sure to get his repurposed Ranger tunic and belt back. While he might not like the people, the shirt he was given was warm and durable. He’d made sure to stuff it into his bag and kept it there so that it wouldn’t get discarded. “Is that all food?”
“Not all of it.” The king in hastening their departure was very willing to supplement some of the essentials the boy was lacking. An amused smile crossed the elf’s face at the child’s expression of distaste and horror when a pair of light leather shoes were held out. "You may need them."
Harry went to argue just on principle but stopped and gave a pout at Padfoot when the wolf wagged his tail. “Traitor,” he whispered. Padfoot just lolled his tongue at him. The elf’s amusement didn’t help his mood as he grabbed the shoes with a frown as he shoved them into his bag. He knew that he likely would be grateful for them when they were in the mountains but he wasn’t going to verbalize that.
Curious, he went to squat to open it and find out what was in it, but Glorfindel caught his hand and told him, “You can find out what is in it when we make camp later.”
Unable to stop the smirk that appeared on his face, Harry knowingly stated, “Himself wants us gone, doesn’t he?”
“You did make yourself…disagreeable.” As the boy continued to be unrepentant, Glorfindel shook his head. “I’m sure that Thranduil was tempted more than once to throw you into his dungeons.”
“He has dungeons?” Harry’s eyes widened but then thought of course it made sense that a king would have dungeons. “Oooohhh,” he said, coming to a realization and feeling quite foolish for not recalling it earlier. “He’s the same elven king that threw Thorin’s Company into the dungeons, isn’t he?”
“He is.” Glorfindel wondered if the boy came upon the story the same way he came in possession of a Dwarven dagger.
Harry was quiet after that and the two were soon on their way, given permission and passage through Mirkwood. The silence between them was only interrupted by Harry’s attempts to imitate the bird sounds that Glorfindel was teaching him and the sounds of amusement or pain from Padfoot having to hear them. It was a bit like when he was trying his hand at musical instruments. It passed the time at least.
He also got to discover what was in the pack and made a face at what he found. Aside from the typical fare, he spotted a book. One that had the elvish writing in it along with some translations in the common tongue. ’It’s a bloody primer!’ A nudge from Padfoot had him sigh and mutter mutinously, but he begrudgingly placed the book back in the bag but buried it under the spare set of clothing. He did like the soap he found and the comb. The eating utensils and such was a surprise.
When they got to the mountains, Harry did balk at first about the shoes. He hated to admit that he could move a bit faster wearing them when he couldn’t ride Padfoot on some of the paths. While still keeping an eagle eye about, Glorfindel stated with some amusement, “You’re not the first person I have met that preferred to go barefooted.”
“Really? Did they get constant comments and overbearing people trying to foist shoes on them too?”
Glorfindel laughed. “I doubt any would have tried.”
This interested Harry and his expression clearly showed it when the elf glanced over at him. With a smile, Glorfindel began to tell about Princess Idril Celebrindal.
Notes:
The poem/song Harry sings is titled (I think) The Withered Heath from The Hobbit – Chpt 7: Queer Lodgings. He's singing it to the momentum of the Far Over the Misty Mountains Cold as in The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey. Andy Serkis is brilliant as a narrator but this version is a bit more like an audio drama? It's a great rendition and I highly recommend it.
As for the Elves cooking and the more powerful healers being those that abstain from fighting if they can help it, I'm pretty sure I read somewhere that was written by Tolkien himself. Which is why I don’t understand why they had Elrond be on the orc hunt (in the movie) as he’s a powerful healer. Though the cooking thing was more in line with the Noldor, not sure about the Sindar/Silvan elves but I'm just going to say it's all of them.
Feel free to let me know if I should add any tags? I did add the sporadic updates as a forewarning to anyone new?
I also got myself a Tumblr...again (had deleted it when I needed a break from everything.) So feel free to talk there? @Madhattarproductions or @Madhattarproductionsworks for things about the story and life updates
Chapter 14: Rivendell
Chapter by Nobody Tosses a Dwarf (Madhattarproductions)
Chapter Text
Before the mountains, Harry had asked Glorfindel what had happened to the people who used to live by the river. The elf didn’t know but after Harry had described what he’d seen, how the elf would be too tall to fit in the house comfortably, Glorfindel replied that it sounded like the homes of Halfings. That he hadn’t heard tell of any east of Breeland which lay west of the mountains. They either had likely died or migrated west where the rest of their kinfolk were. Well, that had been a bit of a let down, and caused him to wonder if his Drughu friends would fall to the same fate. After he had experienced the mountains the first time, and his encounters with men and elves, he could see why they might hesitate to try and follow their predecessors across.
“What about that place by the marshes?” It had been a ruin, and Harry wondered what it had been. It obviously had been a place for either men or elves, maybe dwarves, but he doubted it. After viewing Moria and then the halls of the elven king, he was more inclined to believe the lichen infested place had once been the home to men.
“Tharbad?”
Harry shrugged, having no knowledge of what it could be called. After learning where it lay, Glorfindel seemed to conclude that it had indeed been Tharbad.
“Wars, the plague, and the resulting flood from the Fell Winter.” He stopped to think about it for a moment. “That was about eighty years ago?”
In other words, no one would likely be there or hang about the place. Maybe Harry and Padfoot could use it again if they ended up taking the same route or even if they found themselves near it at some point.
The mountains were just as treacherous as they had been the other times they approached it by themselves. Harry had been right that the elf was instrumental in the goblins deciding to think twice before attacking them. That didn’t mean the crossing was any less cold, uncomfortable, and that Padfoot kept a watch when they did take the time to rest. Among some of the rocks, Harry did find an interesting object. It was a chunky misshapen owl figurine that had obviously been carved. Wondering how it ended up there, he shrugged and figured some other traveler had made it and either lost it or tossed it because it wasn’t perfect or symmetrical at all. Harry liked it immediately and shoved it into his satchel.
As they drew closer to their destination, Harry was tempted more and more to urge Padfoot into a run and get as far away from Imladris as he could. Padfoot whined, feeling his anxiousness which caused Harry to lean forward and wrap his arms around the wolf’s neck apologetically. Purposefully trying to relax, Harry tried not to think of the reception he was sure awaited them. He was sure that Padfoot had his own reservations and had to remind himself that the wolf wouldn’t let anything happen to them. Harry wouldn’t let anything happen to Padfoot either. That was a promise! The wolf let out a frustrated whine causing his boy to laugh softly. “Alright, alright.”
Harry sat up as Padfoot paused, ears swiveling, while Glorfindel and his horse continued on before stopping; the elf turned to look behind him with an expectant expression. He was not disappointed by the wide eyed look as he stared at the landscape around them. Padfoot slowly padded closer behind the horse, as he too looked at the pass. Both boy and wolf could now hear the water, Glorfindel watched with a slight smile as they took in the splendor of the valley and the sight of the Last Homely House that they could see in the distance.
The three made their way towards it going along the river with Harry and Padfoot gazing about in awe. This place looked and felt so much more vibrant than what they were used to. If it hadn’t been for Glorfindel, the duo would have passed the hidden dale without realizing they had missed anything.
Harry was sure not to tilt too far over when he gazed at the water below the bridge. Both boy and wolf were anxious and felt a bit of tension return to their frames despite their wonder once they traversed the stairs and could see someone waiting for them. Harry’s hands tightened briefly in the black fur even as Glorfindel called out a greeting and was given one in return in the language of the Rangers. As they drew nearer, Harry frame stiffened as the elf -he was pretty sure the man was an elf- gazed at them. Padfoot’s gait changed, slowing as his tail drooped, his ears pulled back and his eyes squinted in suspicion.
While Glorfindel dismounted and sent his horse off, likely towards where the horses rested. Harry knew that it would put him at a disadvantage, but believed it would be a better impression, if not politer if he got off Padfoot as well. Then again, if Glorfindel’s lord was anything like the elvenking, it wouldn’t matter. Taking a chance, Harry slid off Padfoot but kept a hand on his ruff and stood close to him, but never took his eyes off the elf whose piercing gaze never wavered either. No one spoke, as they took measure of the other. This elf, while seeming to hold the same sort of agelessness as all the elves Harry had encountered so far, the air surrounding him didn’t appear as haughty. The tense atmosphere broke when the elf’s expression showed his cautious curiosity and finally spoke a greeting. One that Harry could understand! It wasn’t the language of Mirkwood or of the Rangers.
Harry’s reply was a bit stilted as he still wasn’t sure what this person had planned for him so he knew he had to be at least semi-respectful. He was a lord afterall, and had used Padfoot’s name even if there was an inflection of a question there. Still, he hesitated and didn’t really want to enter the stronghold of what could possibly be the enemy. Glorfindel offered to show them to a bath and then to feed them to which Lord Elrond agreed. That sounded good to Harry, but he didn’t want to go too deep and glanced back the way they’d come.
“I would prefer to stay out here,” Harry spoke, still giving the dark haired elf and his house beyond a look of trepidation. While it didn’t look or feel as foreboding as the Elvenking’s Halls or woods, he would prefer to be able to come and go as he pleased.
An elegant dark brow raised, correctly guessing the reason for his unease. “I assure you that no harm shall come to you while you reside within my home.”
“How can you ensure that?” Harry’s body language shifted even more, muscles tightening as his eyes squinted a little, mouth turning down as his finger jabbed harshly towards Glofindel. Accusation laced his voice. “He brought us here to face the Ranger’s chief,” his nose flared, stare not wavering from the elf lord, “who’s people wanted us dead.” Harry wanted to know how this elf would be able to keep his promise with people who clearly wanted to harm him and Padfoot.
“While they do come here, they aren’t allowed to do harm. This is a house of refuge, merriment, learning, and quiet.” While Harry’s brow knit, confused at the seeming oxymoron, Elrond continued. “Most come here to rest and heal.”
Padfoot sat on his haunches, head tilted as he regarded the lordly elf while Harry was trying to figure out if he could trust him. Green eyes shifted towards Padfoot, taking in his posture. “What about Padfoot?”
“That promise extends towards your companion as well. As long as you both bear no ill will toward anyone or seek to harm them.”
It was unsaid that the moment that either one did the promise of protection would be rescinded. Padfoot flicked an ear, then yawned, laying down as if he were bored and done with this whole conversation. Apparently he was leaving the decision to Harry, having taken the elf lord at his word and finding nothing menacing about him at the moment. His companions' behavior caused him to scowl and give a huff of frustration before focusing back on the amused expressions on the elves’ faces.
Harry was trying to decide if he would trust these elves, Glorfindel asked subvocally so that only Elrond could hear, “Have the twins been warned?”
“They have,” he returned, amused at the boy and his furry companion. “As have the rest. No one is to threaten or harm the black wolf. Nor his rider.”
“You really don’t have an opinion?” Harry was grousing at the wolf. Padfoot’s response was to lay his head on his crossed front paws, and give his tail a swish. After a frustrated growl and crossing his arms, Harry gave it serious consideration. If this was neutral ground…He once again looked about himself. It would be easy enough to leave. There were no gates to close to bar any entrance or to keep any captives in. Grudgingly he gave a nod of acceptance.
“Excellent!” came Glorfindel’s declaration. “Let me show you to the bathing facilities!”
“We don’t smell that bad,” Harry grumbled as he Padfoot got to his feet.
“I assure you, you do. The residents of Imladris will be grateful for your consideration of saving their noses.”
Following the blond elf, choosing to ignore the mirth playing about the other elf’s expression, Harry grumbled under his breath which seemed to only cause the smile on Elrond’s face to twitch. Padfoot leisurely trailed alongside his boy, head raised and taking in all the different scents and sounds on the wind that made up this new place. A thought occurred to Harry who had to voice his inquiry. “Am I going to be hounded about wearing shoes here too?”
Glorfindel laughed merrily and glanced at Elrond’s expression that asked if he really wanted to know what that was about. Happily, the blond began to recount the boy’s quest to lose and/or destroy as many shoes as possible. Harry meanwhile was both affronted as well as a tad mortified to have his childish behavior to his possible new host.
“I see. Well, you would not be the first visitor who let their dislike of footwear be known. I would ask that you refrain from destroying any shoes and shall let the relevant parties know not to try to force them upon you.”
“Or even suggest it,” Glorfindel added with a teasing lilt.
While he stuck his tongue out at the blond who laughed at the response, Harry was actually pleased that someone agreed with him and would let him alone on the subject!
When time for an actual bath came, the two elves watched in great amusement as the boy tried to coerce the wolf he needed to bathe as well. Padfoot flattened his ears and whined while Harry crossed his arms not having it. “You can dry out in the sun so the rest of us won’t have to smell wet dog.” There was a playful growl causing the boy to roll his eyes. “Yes, yes, wet dog is likely preferable to how we smell at the moment,” here Harry shot a glare at Glorfindel whose smile grew a bit at that.
“Indeed,” Elrond had to input his own opinion on the matter, mouth twitching then turned into a full smile when the wolf gave a clearly unimpressed look his way while the boy’s gesture towards Elrond and his accompanied expression stated, ‘See!’
After a bit more persuasion, Padfoot grudgingly gave in and allowed the boy to scrub his fur from head to tail. Expression nothing short of mournful, he leapt out quick as could be as soon after the rinse water was poured on him. Soaked, with his fur plastered down from the water, his lean frame was more visible. While not starving, he could really do with a meal or two more. Deciding enough was enough, Padfoot took great delight in shaking water free from his coat and body, tongue lolling upon seeing the sprayed boy and chamber.
“Padfoot!”
Said wolf just sat on his haunches while his boy grumbled to himself. Deciding to not incite anything just yet with these elves, Harry began to laboriously clean up after the unruly wolf. Once that was done and he himself had bathed, Harry made a face of disgust before he donned the clothing from the Mirkwood elves sans shoes. Those, he had left alone once more. Exiting, he saw that Glorfindel had waited and both of them had to quickly move or be run down by Padfoot who shot past him and into the nearest patch of green to roll around in.
Glorfindel raised a brow while Harry shook his head and gave the elf a ‘what can you do’ expression. Padfoot trotted behind and around them as they made their way to the dining hall. Harry’s happy mood quickly dwindled before evaporating entirely to be replaced by irritation at hearing murmurs in that language the Rangers used. It made sense if they came here often, they would know the language of this place.
Harry’s attention was shifted to Padfoot as the wolf came up and pressed against him to alleviate some of his tension. The smile was brief as he realized that he now had a wet patch where Padfoot had pressed against his side. “Padfoot!”
The wolf’s tongue lolled as he gave an amused yip. With a long suffering sigh, Harry supposed it was better than the wolf licking his ears as he was prone to do. A quick glance to the amused blond elf, Harry could admit that Padfoot’s antics were going a long way to ease the elves into thinking that they were harmless. He just wished they wouldn’t whisper and keep looking at them.
They were able to make it through the meal without too much trouble and much to Harry’s relief, no interrogation or any visual signs of the Rangers. Harry happily ate his way through possibly his own weight in fresh fruits, vegetables, bread, cheese, and meat. The elves made no comment when he would squirrel some away or slip a few scraps to Padfoot who ended up getting his own haunch of venison. They were allowed to flee as soon as they were done eating, much to both of their delight and relief.
Over the course of what seemed the next few days Harry and Padfoot wandered, admiring the grounds as well as testing the validity of Elrond’s word. Unsure if it was their own luck or if it was the elf lord that was keeping the Rangers away for now, Harry wasn’t going to bring the subject up. The duo were able to explore the entire valley and found there were others that resided there aside from Elrond’s home. Of these he ended up with an elf named Gildor who had taken upon himself to educate Harry in the elven language. He seemed to delight whenever Harry would be purposefully obtuse. It had gone much like when he’d been learning with the Drughu.
It seemed other elves were in on the plot to make Harry suffer as Lindir decided that his musical lessons needed to continue and tried to expand that into teaching him to play the harp which Harry flat out refused. Glofindel had an uncanny knack of finding him whenever Harry slipped off for some time to himself. The elf would erringly locate him, be it hiding behind a bush, up a tree, or even once upon the roof when he’d escaped some well meaning coddling. It caused an unscratachable itch under his skin and he’d just had to get away. Then again, he and Padfoot didn’t go far from each other. It was a good indication that one or the other was near when one saw either about.
Harry’s temporary respite was interrupted once more by the blond elf who was squatting and gazing at Padfoot as the wolf lay with crossed paws. Tilting his own head as he watched curiously, he could say that he was glad that Glorfindel never once reached out to actually touch Padfoot. Unable to name the expression on the elf’s face, Harry dropped lightly down from his branch on the other side of Padfoot. “Whom am I to be passed off to now?”
There had been many who had tried to teach him this or that or have him spend time with them. Harry listened to what he thought he needed to know such as current affairs but tuned out as soon as they spoke of days long past. Some seemed to take note and would only speak of things now rather than the distant past. Others didn’t seem to think that he should skip ancient history, poetry, or dance, which he ducked away from constantly. Thankfully they wouldn’t pursue him and he’s not sure if he has Glorfindel or Elrond to thank for that small favor.
“Did you want to be passed along to someone?”
“No.”
“Does that mean that you wouldn’t mind my company?”
Narrowing his eyes, Harry wondered what the catch was. The elf had been able to trick Harry into agreeing to learn what was being offered to him from the other elves. It had helped that Padfoot was allowed to leave the valley to hunt as long as Glorfindel accompanied him, and despite himself, Harry trusted that the blond elf would keep his friend safe. In fact, the elf had even begun to teach him archery and expanded upon the knife lessons of Flói and Náli. Harry had to admit that the shortsword he was given was much lighter and the balance much different then the Dwarven daggers he’d handled.
“That depends.”
“Oh?”
“Why do you want it?”
“I thought you could use the company.”
"Why?"
"Why not?"
Green eyes narrowed even further. He didn’t believe for a moment that it was just for the sake of Harry’s company. He didn’t seek him out because he was young like it seemed everyone else had. Or because they wanted a closer look at Padfoot. There was something else; something in the expression the elf wore when he looked at either of them at times. Harry had no idea what it meant nor was he sure if Padfoot did. The wolf never growled or gave any indication of mistrust. He always just would flick an ear or twitch his tail. It was as aggravating as it was weird and disquieted Harry as much as it intrigued him.
With an expression that clearly stated he didn’t believe the elf in the slightest, Harry followed the blond out of a secluded area that had ivy and plantlife growing and wrapped around the stonework that was there. It had been a wonderful find and very peaceful. It was where he and Padfoot would disappear whenever they’d had enough of the elves for the day. Too bad Glorfindel decided Harry needed to be elsewhere.
The sound of steel clashing met his ears before the combatants could be seen. A quick side-eye to the elf showed no alarm or need for urgency. Padfoot was a different story. The wolf went on alert after catching the scents in the air, moving in front of Harry putting himself between him and what was ahead of them. Glorfindel paused, raising his hands. “Peace, Padfoot. No one will harm you or Harry.”
Regardless if he believed him or not, Padfoot still kept himself between the threat and Harry. When they got to where they could see who was fighting, or rather were practicing with the swords -no one would fight that slow-, Harry didn’t recognize either person, but apparently Padfoot had. There was a low warning growl from Padfoot’s wrinkled muzzle, when the combatants paused and turned towards their company. Harry froze upon seeing the gray eyes that widened before narrowing, sword now pointing towards them.
“You!” The man’s expression was one of fear before it turned as dark as the anger in his voice.
Between one blink and the next, Harry was staring at long blond hair as Glorfindel had quickly inserted himself in front of him. “Hold, Amras. He means no harm. They are both guests of Lord Elrond, just as you yourself are.” It was a reminder as well as a threat. If there was any violence they would be expelled from Rivendell and its protection.
A pain in his chest that felt like betrayal, had Harry’s hand seek out the comfort of Padfoot’s fur. The coarse strands sliding through his fingers soothed some of the hurt but not all as his gaze took in more of the Ranger refusing to look at Glorfindel for now. The Man had been using his right arm sluggishly when they’d walked into the courtyard. Now, the sword was in the left, grip not as sure as the right, but held much more steady.
The man did not seem comforted or calmed the slightest and turned sharply and left only after a slight comment towards the elf he’d been sparring with who nodded and departed as well. There was the sound of a loud sigh and Harry realized the sound had come from him. He’d been bracing for an altercation that didn’t come to pass, but likely had only been put off for now. He blinked when Glorfindel turned to him with a rueful expression. “You can’t blame him for not wanting to greet you properly after your last interaction.”
“That wasn’t our fault!”
Glorfindel held up his hands again without accusation. “I think it was a misunderstanding, poor decisions and mistakes from all involved.”
With the Ranger gone from sight and immediate threat to Harry gone, Padfoot relaxed, but was still on guard for any more surprises.
Chapter 15: Weregild and Gandalf
Chapter by Nobody Tosses a Dwarf (Madhattarproductions)
Chapter Text
It was a foregone conclusion that Harry would have to face the Ranger Chieftain since that was the whole reason Glorfindel brought them to Imladris. Harry didn’t think anyone could blame him for wanting to put it off as long as one could. He had even stayed out of the way of Amras, even going so far as to actually asking the elves if they had seen the man so he could avoid the area. Unfortunately, it seemed that the dreaded day had finally arrived when Glorfindel had come to collect him. It was the expression on the elf’s face that clued Harry in that the news he bore wouldn’t be something he’d like. It also spoke of the fact he’d ensure that Harry couldn’t escape if he tried. Weirdly he tried to be reassuring. “I’m sure it will go fine. Aragorn is level headed and fair. He will hear you out.”
Harry wasn’t so sure if the other Rangers were anything like their chief. Maybe he should have skipped that apple he’d filched earlier. It now sat like a stone in his stomach as he walked like one being sentenced to death. Padfoot ever present, padded alongside him, pressing into him on occasion to try and ease his worries. His fingers found their way into black fur and stayed there as they continued to walk towards a large gazebo that held a table at its center surrounded by chairs. Five were already occupied. Harry recognized Lord Elrond and the dark haired elf beside him as Erestor, who seemed to accompany the elf lord a lot. Amras, the ranger, was the other he knew of, which likely made the similar dark haired grey eyed man beside him the chieftain. Harry didn’t want to focus on him so he let his gaze slide to the old man and then rested there blinking in surprise.
Confused, he wondered what the man from Mirkwood was doing here, but then had to pause and reassess that thought. While they were similar like the Rangers were with their dark hair and grey eyes, the old man was different from the one he and Padfoot had come across in the woods. Where the other had been robed in brown, this one was in grey. Just as the other man had been it was neither hostile nor suspicious but his body language and the tightness around his eyes suggested he was a bit wary even if he was curious. Still, there was something about him…
“Are you related to the old man who lives in Mirkwood?” He blurted out causing the old man to blink in surprise in return shifting his thoughtful gaze from Padfoot to Harry.
“You’ve met Radagast?”
“Mithrandir, you can question him later. We have other matters that need to be sorted first,” Elrond reminded him.
“Ah, yes. The business with the Dúnedain and the wolf.”
At the reminder, Harry’s fingers closed into a fist in the black fur but then relaxed them even as he leaned into the solid reassurance of Padfoot’s side. He nearly jumped when a hand came gently down on his shoulder in support. Glancing up, Harry was both surprised yet not that the hand belonged to Glorfindel. The elf gave him a reassuring smile and a squeeze to the shoulder before he let go and gestured to one of the two empty chairs. He wasn’t sure he wanted to sit and lose any advantage they had, but reluctantly complied nonetheless.
Sliding into a seat while the blond elf took the other, Harry felt himself relax just a little as Padfoot’s head dropped into his lap. Eyes looked up at the boy begging him to pet him. Mouth twitching, he did so knowing it would help both of them. When he looked up and caught the various expressions on the faces staring at him, Harry quickly looked away, his shoulders tensing and rising a little as his face heated up.
Glorfindel started things by introducing those that Harry didn’t know as well as introducing him and Padfoot to the others.
“We’re here to discuss the weregild that needs to be paid for Amras’ injury,” Aragorn stated as he gazed at the boy and wolf. “I have the accounts of my men, but I wish to hear your tale, if you’ll tell it to me.”
So Harry told him after a searching look, what he’d told Glorfindel. How he and Padfoot had been minding their own business when the Rangers decided to shoot at then chase them. About them threatening to kill him and Padfoot. How Padfoot was just protecting Harry and defending himself. “They would have killed my friend!”
“That would have been terrible indeed to lose a friend,” Aragorn agreed. “Did my men not tell you why they pursued you? Or why they mistook you for an enemy?”
“No,” was his immediate answer but then Harry paused, brow furrowed. “They asked me about the Shire. They didn’t believe me when I said we weren’t going there. We’d never even heard of such a place until then.” Ori was the one that had eventually told him what the Shire was indirectly. He still didn’t understand what was so special about it and why it was off limits. It hadn’t seemed to be so when the Dwarves had gone through it on their way to Erebor, according to Balin and Ori’s stories that was.
“You see young Harry,” Gandalf started, then paused when he saw the reaction of the phrasing, took note of it and continued. “It is unusual for a wolf to travel by itself, more so in the company of one that is not its kind. Those that usually do-”
“Are allied with the enemy!” The Ranger had leapt to his feet glaring for all he was worth at the boy and wolf.
Padfoot had barely raised his head but made sure to lick Harry’s hand that had curled into a fist that had been resting at his side. The boy uncurled his fingers and wiped them off on his shirt absently as he glared back at the man.
“Thank you, Amras,” Elrond’s tone suggested his discontent with the man; it also held a warning. The man sat back down, displeasure and resentment clear to all.
“What he means,” Gandalf sent a sour look at the man, “is that wolf riders are usually goblin or orcs.”
“You mean those creatures on the mountain?” Harry shuddered. He didn’t like them at all! Wrinkling his nose in disgust he wondered, “Why would wolves let them ride them?”
“Not all wolves are like your Padfoot,” came the diplomatic answer from Glorfindel.
“None are like Padfoot!” Harry smirked and scratched behind the wolf’s ear. The smirk turned into a full on grin as Padfoot leaned his head more, pressing into Harry’s fingers.
“Indeed, let’s hope not.”
Before Harry could figure out if the elf was teasing or serious, Aragorn continued the questioning.
“Could you tell me where you were headed?”
Harry knew they were interested in this as well as where he’d come from before the Drughu found him and allowed him and Padfoot to stay with them. Not looking up from the relaxed form of Padfoot, Harry’s shoulders gave a stiff rise and fall. “Nowhere. We were just wandering.”
“Did you have a final destination in mind or somewhere you believed you had to be?” This came from Gandalf.
“What’s that got to do with him,” Harry rudely pointed towards Amras whose gaze hadn’t shifted from Padfoot the entire discussion. In fact, as soon as he and the wolf had entered the man’s line of sight, he’d not looked away since. “And weregild? What is that?”
“Weregild is money you would pay in compensation for someone's injuries or death.”
“I don’t have any money.” Harry slid down in his seat a little as his mouth turned down. It wasn’t something that really came up. The Drughu didn’t use it, and while he knew that the Dwarves likely did, the only time he saw them with any kind of coin was when they were betting and most times it was with gemstones.
“I didn’t think you did,” there was a bit of humor in Aragorn’s voice.
Harry wanted to ask why they brought that up then if they knew he didn’t have any coins to give. Did they expect him to work for it? He still had a bone to pick with the Rangers though. “If anyone owes anything, they owe me! They still have my blowpipe and darts! And what about Padfoot’s wounds that he got?”
Aragorn turned to ask Amras if it was true, the man shook his head but then after a surly glance at Harry conceded to ask Nathor about it as he was unconscious. Harry didn’t trust the man and didn’t believe he would be getting his belongings back any time soon if at all. He’d resigned himself to that fact when he’d been going through his bag when he and Padfoot had been let into the mountain by Balin and Flói. Nor did he expect they would think Padfoot’s wounds were of equal importance to that of the rangers. They had already proven that.
“It doesn’t seem as if there was any lasting damage to Padfoot.”
“So?”
“Amras’ injury will take him a while to fully heal and he cannot fulfill his duties as a member of the Dúnedain. It was suggested that you take up his duties for a month or so.”
That caused quite a stir! Harry’s mouth gaped as he stared in disbelief. Amras was arguing angrily, while Gandalf puffed on his pipe with a thoughtful expression, while Elrond seemed surprised and was talking with Erestor who seemed to be disagreeing with the suggestion. Padfoot had sat up straight, his attention on the Rangers.
“It’s not a bad suggestion.”
Whipping his head to the side, almost causing himself neck pain, Harry stared at the blond elf. He had almost forgotten that Glorfindel was there until he just spoke. “How is this not bad? They hate me and want to kill me.”
“It was a misunderstanding. You, as well as they, will get a better understanding of each other this way.”
“This was your doing, wasn’t it?” Harry glared at him.
“Why would you think that?”
“I sometimes think you don’t like me.”
“I wonder what I did to give you that impression?”
“I wonder,” Harry muttered, recalling how the elf had led him straight to where Amras was sparring. The hurt tried to creep back up which he angrily pushed aside. He had been foolish to think that they were becoming friends of a sort.
It seemed to be settled that Harry would be training and learning the duties of a Ranger while Amras was recuperating. The outside of his arm was scarring over and healing but much more time was needed if he didn’t want to lose complete use of his right arm due to overdoing it. Aragorn had been teasing the man that this way he would have some time off to rest properly. Neither Harry nor Amras appreciated his levity.
With that business concluded it seemed that Gandalf believed it was now his turn. Harry had tried to duck away but the old man had been able to still him with a gaze. Sighing, he didn’t flee as he wished but he didn’t return to his seat, opting to stand. The old man came to him and the genial smile that was given to him along with the piercing gaze caused Harry to flinch and look away while a burning anger stirred in his stomach. He didn’t know where the anger came from which frightened him a little but he rationalized that it was annoyance from not allowing him to leave like he’d wanted to. Harry missed the frown and exchanged looks between the others at the table.
Gandalf’s curiosity was piqued further from that reaction but knew he’d have to tread carefully. He decided to start the conversation by bringing up the subject the boy himself had started. “You met Radagast while traveling through Mirkwood?”
“Sort of?”
“What did you think of him?”
Through narrowed green eyes, the boy stared at him as if searching for the reason behind the question. “You’re like him, sort of. Older than you look.” Much older was implied. “Strange.”
Aragorn gave a laugh. “He can be at that.”
“Where were you and Padfoot originally going to go after leaving Mirkwood?”
Once again, Harry gave a shrug and ran his hands through Padfoot’s fur. Idly he wondered if the wolf would allow him to braid the beads back in again. Those would show he wasn’t a wild wolf for them to kill, maybe? Surely the goblins and orcs wouldn’t care to add decoration to their wargs? Not really paying attention he lifted one hand and pointed unerringly eastward. “That direction.”
“Any particular reason?”
“Why not?” Frowning, he looked up and squinted at the old man. “Is it guarded too? You know you people really ought to put up signs. Or have a map that is clearly labeled with a giant X and a warning.”
“Have you even looked at any maps?” Glorfindel inquired. The elf knew full well of how much Harry disliked sitting still and how he dodged many book lessons.
Sticking his tongue out, he then retorted, “Yes!” He didn’t admit that it was an accident when he was in the library and had only given it a cursory glance. He hadn’t known the mountain range was that long! It would have taken him and Padfoot weeks if they had tried to go around rather than over it. He had been curious too about the chunk of forest that looked as if it had a bite taken out of it.
As if he could read his thoughts, both Glorfindel and Gandalf had amused and knowing expressions. It was also clear that the elf had tattle on him about his grudge against people putting up signage. Of course the blond had to state, “You have the oddest fixations.”
“You try going to two places that don’t have ‘Beware, privately owned land. Trespassers will be killed or imprisoned’ and see if you don’t fixate!”
“While there are dangers here in the west, that is nothing compared to the east.”
“Have you been there?”
“Once or twice,” Aragorn admitted.
“And it’s worse than orcs, goblins, giant spiders, and men shooting arrows at you?”
Aragorn winced at that, but he gave a decisive nod. “A lot of that land is full of evil men and unsavory creatures that are allied with Sauron.”
There wasn’t any instant recognition of that name, more of it sounding familiar than any real knowledge of where it came from. Harry had to think a moment before he recalled one of history lessons he’d only half paid attention to before escaping. Something about a last alliance. “And that’s this enemy that your ranger was saying Padfoot was working for?” At their confirmation, Harry crossed his arms with a scowl. “Well, he’s not. We’re not.”
After Harry was allowed to grumble some more, they moved the topic along where Gandalf was curious about how Harry had gotten loose from the rope when Thandir and Nathor had tied him up. Apparently Glofindel was a tattletale because he didn’t think that the Rangers would have said anything. Uncomfortable, Harry shrugged as he hadn’t given it much thought, caught up with what was happening.
Gandalf wanted to see if he could replicate the feat. It didn’t look as if either Glorfindel or Aragorn was going to try and talk the old man out of it and seemed just as interested. Shifting from one foot to the other, Harry couldn’t ignore the way his stomach was twisting. “I-I don’t know.”
“I promise the ropes won’t be too tight. I just would like to see how you were able to break the ropes.”
Harry turned his gaze to Padfoot who gave a whine then nudged him. Sighing, he supposed he could just get this over with and agreed. If they tried anything funny, Padfoot would bite them. Allowing the ranger to tie his wrists, he stared at the rope when it was done and tried to remember what was going through his head as he tugged and twisted his hands and wrists. He knew he’d felt helpless and that he hated that, he had wanted to be free, there had been anger there too. The rope split, falling to the ground while Harry grinned in triumph. His smile disappeared seeing the expressions on the others’ faces.
Before he could run away from the contemplating, calculating, suspicious, and wary glances, Gandalf suggested another test. Then another. Harry had no idea what he was being tested for. As they progressed though, the more his nerves began to fray as his anxiety swelled. Not even Padfoot’s whinging and assuring him that he was there helped. It didn’t help that sometimes he failed, or caused an unexpected result because of his distress until finally, Harry couldn’t handle not knowing what this was all about and demanded to know.
Instead of answering, Gandalf gave him another of those calculated looks. “Tell me, Harry, have you tried to do any healing?”
“What?” He was taken aback. “What has that got to do with all this?” He gestured to what the old man had him doing.
“Humour an old man.”
Pursing his lips, eyes narrowed, Harry wondered if he should or just wash his hands of this and retreat to his and Padfoot’s sanctuary. Not that Glorfindel would likely let them be for long. “I only know what the Drughu and Oin taught me.” Which was very basic stuff mind you. “Why?”
“Hmm, oh, I was just wondering if your parents might have had this skill as well or something similar to it.”
Going completely still, Harry clenched his jaw before he shook his head. “Well, if they did we’ll never know, will we?”
“Why is that?”
“They’re dead.” There wasn’t any emotion in the stated fact. It was a conclusion Harry had come to while staying with the dwarves. If he had parents there would be no reason for him to be with Padfoot would there? Deciding he’d had enough, Harry turned on his heel and left with Padfoot following behind.
“Well, that was something we had suspected,” Glorfindel filled the silence. It had been apparent that something had to have happened to the boy’s parents in order for him to have been left alone in the company of a wolf. It had been long enough that the two saw each other as a pack.
“I was hoping to get more out of him,” mused Gandalf.
“What have you figured out so far?”
“You were right that what the boy can do isn’t Morgul. He seems drawn strongest towards the air.”
“He does like high places.” It was no secret that Harry loved when the wolf ran as fast as he could when they went for runs around the valley. The boy had let slip that it almost felt like flying.
“Perhaps Saruman would know more or have heard of something. I shall ask Radagast as well since it seems they’ve met.”
Farewells were spoken and while walking back towards the main hall, Glorfindel filled in the Dúnedan on what he knew of Harry as well as what he’d been learning. “He won’t make this month easy on the Dúnedain.”
“No, I expect not.”
“Returning his blowpipe might gain you a bit of favour.”
“I’ll be sure to remember that. And what of you? How are you planning to get back into his graces?” It hadn’t been lost on the man that the boy held a tiny bit of resentment towards the elf.
He hummed. “I’m not quite sure just yet.”
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