Not Quite a Maia

The sound of his grandmother rapping smartly on the bedroom door drew Neville from his sleep the following morning.

"Neville? Wake up! We have a busy morning ahead of us."

He opened his bleary eyes and yawned widely. Was it morning already? She must be mistaken.

"Heavens, boy! Are you still sleeping? Wake up, I say!" Gran's increasing volume was enough to convince him that it was, in fact, morning - she never raised her voice between ten o'clock at night and seven the next day.

"I'm up, Gran," he called half-heartedly, before pulling the sheets over his head. Another five minutes...

His eyes were just beginning to droop closed again when there was an almighty rattling at the doorknob.

"Don't make me come in there, Neville Longbottom. If you're not down for breakfast in ten minutes, I'll turn that overgrown cactus of yours into a Bashful Bonzai!"

Crikey, she'd do it too! Her dire warning had him flying out of bed faster than Harry could zoom around a Quidditch pitch and he banged his foot on the bedside table in his haste to pander to her wishes. He heard her harrumphing in satisfaction as she headed for the staircase, while he hopped about on one leg nursing his throbbing toe.

It was not until he was brushing his teeth that Neville vaguely recalled the strange dream he'd experienced in the early hours. He'd woken up just after midnight with a sense of urgency and an inexplicable desire to talk with Mrs Weasley, of all people.

But what on earth had it been about? He'd forgotten soon afterwards (that happened sometimes) and had quickly fallen into an unsettled rest, with images of great fiery creatures and mysterious dark horsemen plaguing his dreams for the rest of the night.

Perhaps it was nothing. Pulling on clean brown trousers and a crisp yellow shirt for their intended visit to Great Uncle Algie's, he descended the stairs and joined Gran at the breakfast table in the kitchen. She served him up a full English breakfast and a cup of tea, glaring at him disapprovingly as he yawned widely and gave her a bird's eye view of his half-chewed black pudding.

"Use your hands, for pity's sake. Are you trying to put me off my porridge?"

"I don't need my hands to yawn, you know; that's what my mouth's for," he muttered tiredly, not realising she'd heard.

"I am quite certain that I did not raise you to forget simple manners, like covering that enormous void in the middle of your face politely when you feel the need to demonstrate your fatigue."

Why couldn't she just say 'please put your hand over your mouth when you yawn'? He couldn't help it that he was tired. In fact, it felt like he hadn't slept for a week, which was odd: he'd gone to bed not long after her.

Neville took a another bite of his pudding, trying to work out why he was so tired. Probably the emotional strain of the past week.

Well, the past year, more likely. He hadn't had a good night's rest since before Dumbledore died, if truth be told. It wasn't easy mounting a rebellion and fighting a war...

"Bloody hell!" His fork fell from his hand onto his plate as he recalled the strange dream he'd had earlier in the night. A gorgeous Veela; a love rival; another Dark Lord and his vicious Horcrux-Ring; Mrs Weasley sobbing and waving her finger in his true love's face...

"There's no need to take that tone, young man. It's only good manners to have consideration for other people's comfort, you know," said his grandmother sternly, glaring at him from over the top of her teacup.

"No, Gran, not that. My dream!" Neville said. But wait...it had been a dream, right? It wasn't actually real, surely? "Mrs Weasley..."

The sharp clatter of porcelain broke his musing and he looked up to see his Gran had lowered her cup and was watching him suspiciously. "You were dreaming about Molly Weasley?" the elderly witch asked with narrow eyes.

Oh, great: she thought he was a pervy mum-fancier. "No, Gran, I wasn't...well, I mean...I was. But not in the way you think."

"Then in what way, young man?"

"Well," he began, wondering if he should tell her what might have happened. What if she didn't believe him? "I was floating through Time and Space in my pyjamas, then there was this Veela, then Mrs Weasley showed up in her nightgown, then another Veela came - but he was a man-Veela who was after my girlfriend..."

"I have heard quite enough!" declared Mrs Longbottom, scandalised. "No more chocolate biscuits for you before bedtime!"

It was then he decided not to fully relate his 'dream' to her. There was no point really: if he was only going to be gone for a matter of seconds, as Varda claimed, he'd be back long before she had time to worry. And anyway, if it had only been the result of a restless sleep, he'd look like a raving idiot if he started spouting nonsense about burning lizards and dead riders. He needed to speak with Mrs Weasley and try to find out if she'd shared his 'vision' of the Valar.

Plus, it would save him the aggravation of a confrontation with his grandmother. Neville speared a fat sausage with his fork and took a healthy bite. Tomorrow, when he woke up, he'd know for certain if he'd been to this Middle Earth place or not and by that time everything would be over anyway.

Yes, he'd tell her tomorrow.

But for today, it would be best to see if he could meet with Ron and Ginny's mum. If they were both off for a trip through Time and Space in the wee small hours of that night, then they had some planning to do...

As it happened, Neville didn't have to plan the great escape from his Gran's trip to Uncle Algie's. The fireplace lit up with green flames before the elderly witch could throw the Floo powder on it and Molly Weasley's tired face appeared before them, floating in the emerald light.

"Oh, good morning Augusta. I'm sorry to disturb you, but would it be possible for you to send Neville over this morning? Only I'm having some trouble with the, eh, garden gnomes and all the children have popped over to the Ministry with Arthur, so there's no one to clear the little beggars away from the kitchen door."

Gran's face was a picture of surprise. She threw Neville a slightly puzzled glance as Mrs Weasley rambled on.

"I think perhaps little Luna's father spent too much time yesterday poking around their usual patch - trying to get himself bitten, no doubt. The silly man believes it's good luck or some such nonsense. Anyway," she paused for breath, smiling apologetically at Neville's grandmother for throwing her carefully planned outing into turmoil. "I wouldn't bother you with this, but George is still up in his room and, well, nothing I try at the moment will bring him out of it."

Neville's raised his brows. Blimey, she wasn't above a little emotional blackmail, was she?

And it worked too. "Of course, Molly!" declared Gran sympathetically. "No need to say any more. Trust that Lovegood man to bring his nonsense to other people's homes!" She shook her head rapidly in disgust at poor Luna's (probably innocent) father before thrusting him towards the fireplace.

"Well, off you go then. If you're finished before lunch, meet me at the Leaky Cauldron for a bite to eat. Molly, it would be lovely to see you there too - and bring George if he's feeling up to it. My treat."

Mrs Weasley smiled at her in gratitude and withdrew her head, allowing him to throw the grey powder in the now empty fireplace and be whisked off to the kitchen of the Burrow.

"Ah, there you are dear. Lovely to see you." She gave him a brief hug and pushed him onto a chair in the otherwise deserted kitchen. "I'll make you a nice cup of tea first and then we can chat."

Did that mean she'd had the same dream as him and wanted to discuss their upcoming trip? Or was there really a multitude of angry gnomes in the garden trying to make a mad dash for the house?

His tea arrived (along with an enormous slice of ginger cake) and the mercifully fully-dressed witch took a seat across from him. She looked tired, he thought, as he sipped his brew. Her eyes were slightly red and she wrung her hands together on the tabletop. A difficult night, no doubt - as all the nights must have been for the family since Fred's death.

"Are you alright, Mrs Weasley?" Neville asked softly.

A faint smile crossed her lips and she quickly clamped both hands around her own mug of tea in order to cease their telltale display of anxiety. "Quite alright, dear. Now, I think you know why I really called you here," she replied in hushed tones, although there was no sign of anyone else in sight. "Do you remember what you dreamed about last night?"

Mrs Weasley's voice was slightly hesitant, embarrassed perhaps, as if she thought the enquiry might be considered highly unusual.

Which, of course, it would be - if he didn't know exactly what she was referring too.

"So you were there!" he declared and his hostess gave a deep sigh of relief.

"Thank goodness!" she said. "I thought perhaps I was going stark raving mad! When I woke up this morning, I wanted to call over to your house straight away, but Augusta would have had a fit if I flooed in to ask about your dreams at six o'clock in the morning!"

She took a grateful sip of tea, and Neville couldn't agree more. If Gran thought they were dreaming about each other she'd send him off to deepest Mongolia until he'd 'sorted out the nonsense floating about in his head'. She might let the red-haired witch off the hook, though, and just chalk it up to grief.

He toyed with his cake before speaking. "You don't have to come Mrs Weasley." She looked up in alarm, but he hurried on. "It's just that, well, I don't like the thought of you going in to another conflict when you're still upset about...I mean...you need more time..."

Oh, dear. She was glaring at him over her mug.

The young wizard took a deep breath and said what was on his mind. "I just hate the thought of all these battles we might face reminding you of what happened to Fred."

The red mug she'd been holding thumped on the table as she regarded him and Neville wondered how far her hand was from her deadly wand.

"Now you listen here, young man," she said firmly, reminding him suddenly of his Gran when she was about to go off into one of her lengthy diatribes. "I know that you're concerned for my well-being and heaven knows I appreciate it. But you seem to be forgetting two things. One: Everything I look at in this house reminds me of what I have lost, every expression on my children's faces reminds me of a similar one on Fred's. I can't so much as walk up the stairs without remembering how I used to yell at him and his brother for the racket they made when concocting their products for the shop."

Her eyes misted.

"And I can't go out into the garden either for some escape, because there's the paddock where he used to play Quidditch." She motioned out the kitchen door with her head.

"Nor can I leave the Burrow and go elsewhere for relief, because all I get are pitying looks; all I hear are sympathetic words from well-meaning friends and shoppers in Diagon Alley - and that's before I even so much as pass their store..."

Neville sincerely wished he'd refrained from opening the 'large void in the middle of his face'. This was obviously painful for her. But she rallied herself and sniffed back the threat of tears before continuing.

"And second," she reached under the flowery pinafore and pulled out a dazzling pendant on a long, silver chain. "Don't forget I have something to protect me - which is more than I can say for you!"

Crikey! Was she still annoyed about that?

"It doesn't sit very well with me that I have a free pass to safety, as it were, when we go to this Middle Earth, while you'll have to watch your back..."

Apparently, she was still annoyed.

"...so if you think I'm letting you trundle off to some unknown place and time to do battle with people and creatures we've never heard of while I sleep safely in my bed, then you have another think coming! They chose me to be your guardian, your guide, and that is my duty and privilege."

With that, she picked up her mug and took a deep swallow, leaving Neville to smart at having his own words to her the evening before used against him.

"Sorry, Mrs Weasley. I didn't mean to upset you, I just...well, I wanted to give you the chance of bowing out gracefully, I suppose," he admitted, before cramming a large piece of cake into his mouth to prevent any further gaffes.

She smiled at him. "Well, dear, that was very gentlemanly of you. But it's been a long time since I've been able to bow, let alone do so gracefully. Anyway, a change of scenery for a short while, that has the added benefit of not really taking me away from the family, might be good for me; give me time to concentrate on something other than...well, something else."

The morning light bounced off the beautiful pendant on her neck and Mrs Weasley admired it. "Besides, I so rarely get the chance to do something different; I wasn't always a mother, you know. My brothers, Fabian and Gideon, were excellent Aurors and I learned some very handy spells from them that I've never had the chance to use. It might be quite therapeutic to take some of my...emotions...out on unsuspecting dark armies - Fred would certainly have enjoyed it. Maybe he still can, if the nice Vala lady is to be believed, so I musn't let him down."

They shared a conspiratorial grin.

"Right then. Enough of all that - we have some planning to do!" she declared.

And with that, any doubts and reservations that Neville may have harnessed about leading her into danger, were finally laid to rest.

For two hours they discussed what they may need to bring with them to Middle Earth. Having no real idea of the terrain they would encounter, Mrs Weasley thought it best to bring a knapsack treated with an extension charm. Into it, she crammed - among other things - two tents, a magical first aid kit, a sewing kit (Neville laughed at that), several changes of clothing, two large boxes of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes (which made her eyes moisten), enough food to sustain a starving village for a week - including ingredients for a Sunday roast complete with Yorkshire pudding: his favourite - knitting needles and wool ("For the quieter moments," she explained to an astonished Neville), Millicent Beneficent's Cookery On The Go: A Witch's Guide To Camping In The Wild, and Shock and Auror: Astound your Enemies by Quincy 'Quickfire' MacGilligan.

"That's going to be a lot to carry, Mrs Weasley," Neville said.

"Heavens, dear," she replied. "We only have to put a Featherweight Charm on it."

Feeling a little foolish, he shrugged sheepishly. "Oh, right, forgot about that. Herbology was my best class, you know."

Mrs Weasley gave him a brief pat on the shoulder. "Not to worry. I was useless at Transfiguration until my brothers sorted me out."

That made him feel somewhat better.

"Now, there's another bag for yourself, so take it home with you and pack some clothes and whatever else you think we might need," she said, handing him a small, brown knapsack.

"Thanks. I need to stop over at Hogwarts before I meet Gran though. There's something there I need, if I can get it, and I was also hoping to speak with Harry. Do you know when he'll be back?"

"Oh, I'm not really sure, dear," Mrs Weasley replied. "He and Ginny went with Ron to see Hermione off to Australia. She's going to pick up her parents and bring them back home, apparently. They had to go to the Ministry for an International Portkey - they might be there for a good few hours before she can actually leave. Is it something important you needed to see him about?"

Neville was frowning. "I wanted to ask him if I could borrow his Invisibility Cloak - it might come in handy and I'll be able to give him it back in the morning."

Mrs Weasley was lost in thought for some seconds. "I'm not sure it would be wise to ask - might raise too many questions, you know."

The teenager's expression fell. It would've been good to have it, just in case.

"However," she said, making him brighten again, "I could just take it. He'll never know."

The knapsack he'd been grasping fell to the kitchen floor as his fingers slackened in surprise. Had she just said she'd steal Harry's Cloak?

Feeling Neville's eyes on her back, she raised her brows in question. "Really, dear. Do you think I was born from a rulebook? I was a teenager once myself, you know - and quite the little rebel. Harry won't miss it for one night, I'll just tell him I'm washing it."

She retrieved his fallen bag and returned it to him with almost a twinkle in her eye, so that he caught a fleeting glimpse of the naughty child she must once have been. So that's were Fred and George got their streak from! He grinned at her and, once all the packing was complete, made his way to the fireplace.

"If Gran calls, tell her I'm in the garden or something, would you? I'll try to meet her in an hour's time, if all goes well."

"So you haven't told her where we're going?" the matronly witch asked evenly.

Neville paused to look at her. "No. She probably wouldn't believe me if I did. It'll all be over by tomorrow morning and it's not as if she can do anything to help. Anyway, the Valar asked you to be my guardian, not her - I don't want to upset her by telling her that."

His Guardian gave him a sympathetic smile and nodded her agreement.

"Do you and George want to join us for lunch?" Neville asked, hoping she said yes, but it wasn't to be.

"Thank you, Neville, that's very kind of you. But I really don't see George leaving his room, let alone the house, at any point today. I want to spend a few hours with him anyway - see if I can cheer him up...or at least give him something to do that will occupy his mind. Do make my apologies to Augusta, there's a dear."

He nodded. "Tell him I said hello and if there's anything he needs, not to hesitate to ask for it. I'd be happy to entertain him over at my place for a while, if he likes. I've got some really great plants in my greenhouse that might give him an idea for new Wheezes - just tell him not to tell my Gran I said that. She'll kill me if she thinks I'm encouraging him to 'debauch a whole new generation'."

The offer induced another wonderful motherly hug. "I think perhaps the thought of Augusta's disapproval alone might induce him out in a day or two, thank you, dear." She indicated the floo powder. "Well off you go then. No doubt I'll see you tonight in...well, wherever we end up, so make sure you pack all you need. Don't worry about food or such, for I've enough for us both. Just bring what you think we might need to fight a war," she said dryly.

He gave a half-smile and threw the powder on the fireplace, waiting for the emerald flames to burst into life before stepping in and stating his destination loudly and clearly. With a wave of his hand in farewell, Mrs Weasley's kind face soon disappeared as he was sent hurtling through the Floo Network to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Neville went to bed very early that night (much to his Gran's surprise) in a state of mixed anticipation and dread.

After leaving Hogwarts with his prize magically stuffed into the little brown knapsack, he'd met Gran in Diagon Alley and they'd spent several hours going round the newly opened shops while she bought furniture to replace the items destroyed by Dawlish's untimely visit. Unfortunately for him, his grandmother knew him all too well and was quick to realise that his nervous ramblings and constant clock-watching meant he was trying to conceal something from her. She'd spent hours quizzing him about his time at the Weasleys' and the alarmed teenager had quite the job of trying to throw her off the scent of his secret.

When they'd arrived home and her questions still persisted, he'd finally snapped, resulting in one of their rare arguments.

"It's nothing you need to worry about Gran!" he declared, irritated that she'd spent a whole afternoon needling him. "Just leave it alone."

"Don't you raise your voice to me, young man! You may be of age, but that does not excuse bad manners. Or do you want to turn out like a Malfoy?"

"I'll never be like a ruddy Malfoy," he replied, aghast. The mere image of flouncing about like a blond-haired twat with a sharp nose was enough to fill him with horror.

"And that's quite enough of that bad language, Neville Longbottom! I don't know where you picked up such words, but you'd better drop them right back down again before I cast a Horn Tongue Hex on that offensive mouth of yours!"

"Sorry, Gran. But, honestly. A Malfoy?" He shivered in revulsion.

"Stop trying to change the subject. Why won't you tell me what it is that you're hiding?" demanded Augusta, determined to eke out his secrets. "I can't imagine anything that would make you so defensive anymore - the war is over after all. Is it a girl? Have you taken a fancy to the Weasley girl?"

Wow - three and a half years late on that one. "No, Gran. That was ages ago. I just wanted to make sure that Mrs Weasley and George were alright. We talked after I cleared the garden and I lost track of the time. She's going through a difficult time at the moment."

His grandmother eyed him suspiciously. "She? I thought you wanted to make sure George was alright too - didn't you spend time with him as well?"

"Well, no, how could I? He didn't leave his room the whole time I was there."

"So you spent almost three hours alone with an emotionally vulnerable woman, and have spent the rest of the afternoon with me reluctant to talk of your activities?" She took her hat off and placed it on the hallway stand, before turning to glower at him.

Bloody hell! Was she suggesting what he thought she was suggesting?

"Well?" Her pencil-thin eyebrows climbed up her forehead as she waited impatiently for his reply.

"We were just talking!" Neville said, fighting to control his temper.

"About what?"

"Nothing, everything - does it matter? It was all perfectly innocent - she's old enough to be my mother, for Merlin's sake!"

"If it was all so innocent, then tell me what you talked about," demanded Gran stubbornly.

Neville yanked off his coat and threw it across the hall, missing the coat-stand by a country mile. It fell to the ground.

"I'm not really sure I like what you're implying, Gran. We were talking, that's all. She could use someone to talk to just now, you know. Why don't you go over and have a girly chat with her instead of buying kitchen tables and curtains, hmm?" he challenged. "And for your information, I'd no more have an...encounter...with my friend's mum, than I would snog Professor McGonagall!"

With that, he left the startled witch frozen in shock in the hallway while he clutched his knapsack and stomped off to his greenhouse.

He had been extremely angry with her for the rest of the evening and dinner had been a cold, stilted affair with no conversation whatsoever between them. Neville knew she didn't really believe he was having some sort of mad fling with Mrs Weasley, but he was annoyed that she couldn't mind her own business. After all, he was of age now. He'd fought in a bloody war and was off to fight in another one before the sun rose - hadn't he at least earned a little privacy?

The little bag stuffed with goodies was being squashed in his angry grip, so he loosened it a little and attempted to clear his mind of all thought as he tried to fall asleep. Turning over onto his side, Neville nearly took his eye out with the cherry and unicorn hair wand he'd slipped into the waistband of his jeans.

Great, a one-eyed wizard out to help destroy a one-eyed Dark Lord. Quite fitting, really. He shoved the wand a little farther into the waistband and wondered how everything would be transported with him. Neither of the Valar had explained that, so he'd just assumed that as long as his belongings had physical contact with his flesh, they must come too. That must be why he appeared in his pyjamas.

Odd that the bed hadn't followed him though.

Neville yawned deeply and his eyes began to flutter closed. He was just slipping into dreams as the bedroom door opened and his grandmother looked in on him...

Varda and Manwë greeted both wizard and witch as they floated into the spacious white room. Together, the Valar stood before the green settle as their guests came to a standstill.

"Welcome, son of Longbottom, daughter of Prewett. I rejoice to see thee again. Have thee brought thy staffs?"

Mrs Weasley patted her coat pocket contentedly. She had a look of strange excitement on her rosy face as Neville showed them his own wand - as if she was off on some great adventure.

Well, she was actually, now that he thought about it - and so was he.

"Very good. We have much to tell thee both of the world of Middle Earth, its peoples and locations, before we send thee on thy way. It will be wise to know thy enemies as well as thy friends."

The next few hours were spent poring over maps and listening to histories of allies as well as foes. Neville began to get an idea of the great struggle the Peoples of the West had endured over the centuries, and his determination to provide the Fellowship with any help he could in their quest to rid themselves of Sauron grew steadily greater.

After absorbing as much as they could, they retrieved their knapsacks and faced the Valar.

"Well, then...I suppose it's time to be off," Neville said, somewhat hesitantly. He wasn't sure exactly where they were going to, or how they would get there and sincerely hoped he wasn't about to be offered the Middle Earth equivalent a broom. His last trip on one of them hadn't turned out too well. He looked at Mrs Weasley, wondering if she could fly one.

But he didn't need to worry; the Valar had alternate methods of transport in mind.

"Thy boat awaits thee in the harbour of our lands. It will carry thee safely across the Sundering Sea to the Grey Havens, where Cirdan the Shipwright shall set thee a guide to Lothlórien," said his love rival. "Be warned that thy journey from here to there may be arduous, but Ulmo has promised thee a swift and safe passage across his waters. If thou hast arts to make thy travel faster across the lands, make use of them - for time is of the essence and the Dark Lord Sauron will not await thy presence before he crushes the West."

Well, that wasn't very polite of the evil twat. He and Mrs Weasley had travelled all the way from the Wizarding World to participate - the least the ungrateful git could do was keep the champagne stoppered until they arrived.

"Actually, dear, do you have any photos of the place you want to send us to?" enquired Mrs Weasley politely. Her question produced blank looks from the graceful beings. Neville, on the other hand, knew exactly what she intended to do and he blanched.

"I do not understand what this...foe-toe...may be. We are not in the habit of keeping portions of our enemies' forms as victory trophies," said Manwë, slightly repulsed at the thought.

Neville had to choke back a laugh at the thought of the stately man with a gory necklace of digits hanging from his elegant neck.

"Heavens, no!" cried Mrs Weasley, aghast. "I mean a sort of life-like picture; a very detailed image that gives a true representation of exactly where we are going."

Varda gave her a smile. "Allow me, Lady Molly." She offered her arm and Mrs Weasley took it, rubbing it in concern.

"You still look a bit pale dear. Are you sure you're well enough to be moving about? I've packed some Pepper-Up potion you know: that will have you feeling more like your old self again. Would you like me to leave you some?"

"Thy concern is greatly appreciated, daughter of Prewett," replied Varda as she glowed at the matronly figure. "But I am able to lead thee both to thy desired image. Follow us, young Wizard."

Did he have to? Normally, the teenager would be thrilled to trail behind such a beauty; but if Mrs Weasley wanted to get a picture of their destination in her head, it could only mean she was thinking of Disapparating - something he couldn't do yet (and didn't like very much, actually...very unpleasant).

Varda did not lead them very far, only into the next room, much to the apparent relief of Mrs Weasley's maternal instincts. Enormous blue drapes covered the entire southern wall and Manwë pulled lightly on a golden sash, parting them from the middle. Behind the drapes was a mirror of sorts. It occupied the length of the wall and was easily three metres in height. Decorated around the edges in scrolling ivory script, its surface was not quite the glassy smoothness of ordinary mirrors, more like highly polished silver.

"Observe: The Window of Arda," declared Manwë regally.

Mrs Weasley gasped at its beauty. All four occupants were shown reflected in its surface. The witch, ever the female, took the opportunity to adjust her hair under her woolly hat and pull her warm tweed coat straight. Neville didn't bother, there was no point - Varda had already dumped him for the pretty man in the corner.

The beautiful Vala raised her hand and waved it elegantly across the reflective surface and, forgetting his lamentable love life for the moment, Neville watched in fascination as the 'window' began to swirl. Colour burst across it, spinning so fast he felt almost dizzy until, fortunately, it slowed down, allowing his roiling stomach to follow suit.

"It may not be possible to show thee exactly where we would send thee. The Window shows only brief glimpses, but it may give thee an idea of thy destination," said Varda.

Finally, the whirring stopped and before them appeared a body of water shaped like a spear, with tall, dark mountains directly to its north. Green slopes led to its shores and it stretched off into the distance, leading on to merry spring at its southern edge.

"Mirrormere," said Varda. "In the Dimrill Dale on the eastern edge of Khazad-dûm. If thy journey brings thee here, follow the spring at its southernmost edge until thou reaches the river Silverlode, or Celebrant as it is called by the Elves. This will lead thy feet to the borders of Lothlorien, home of the Elves, and there, if thy journey be swift, shall thee both be united with the Fellowship."

"Erm, I don't mean to be rude, Mrs Varda, but how will these elves or the Fellowship know that we're not enemies? I mean, from what you said yesterday, your Dark Lord is a wizard - so's the other one, what's his name..."

"Saruman," offered Varda, and Neville nodded his confirmation. "Thy auras are not foul, thy faces not deceitful, thine eyes clear and true. And do not forget that thy Guardian and Guide holds my favour on her breast." Her fingers captured the sparkling gem, which seemed to leap out the top of Mrs Weasley's coat, causing her to jump slightly in surprise. The Vala smiled at her in apology.

"I do not part with my grace lightly, child," she continued, allowing the weight of the jewel to return to its chain and turning her lovely face towards him. "That I do so now, I do to honour thy wish of protection for thy Guardian and to honour thee both for thy acceptance of this task."

She approached him and he gulped heavily as he was faced with the full glory of her beauty. "The Elves will know the Light of Varda for what it is when they see it. No enemy of the Valar would ever be granted such a gift - indeed no living being ever has before, friend or foe."

Her warm hand cupped his cheek and Neville thought he might very well collapse with joy. "But thou art the Wizard of my choosing and thou hast complied with my request for aid, though it brings thee far from thy newfound peace and may endanger thy life. I would do what I may to ease thy time here after all thy sacrifices."

Dropping her hand, she returned her gaze to the Window of Arda, but he couldn't really see anything that flashed through it after that. Only Mrs Weasley's voice crying: "Ooh, that'll do nicely!" finally shattered his happy moment of bliss and he recovered himself fully, thankful that he hadn't been drooling down his chin.

"What dost thou have in mind for this place?" queried Manwë curiously.

"Well, I think that rather than trouble your nice Mr Ulmo for a boat, we can just Apparate to the Grey Havens then Apparate from there to Lothlórien," said Mrs Weasley, greatly satisfied at the thought of a long journey drastically reduced.

Oh dear. This was going to be embarrassing...

"Erm, Mrs Weasley...I can't actually Disapparate yet - or Apparate. I didn't really have the chance to take the test, what with the war and all that."

"Not to worry, dear. Just hold on to my arm and I'll take you over myself. It's been a while since I actually did a side-along Apparition, but I'm sure it will all come back to me," she replied, smiling at him comfortingly.

A while? Well, that was just bloody brilliant. With his luck, he'd get splinched halfway to the Grey Havens and re-materialise without his head.

The red-haired witch sensed his anxiety. "Don't worry, Neville dear. I am very good at Apparating, you know. It'll all be over before you know what's happened."

Did she mean the Apparating, or the loss of his head?

"What is this 'Apparate' thou speaks of?" asked Varda.

"Well, it's going from one place to another in a manner of seconds," explained Mrs Weasley. "You just concentrate and with a simple turn, 'poof', you're at your destination in the blink of an eye. Very efficient way to travel, even if it is slightly uncomfortable. Still, this would be a lot easier if we had a Portkey - much better for long distances. I don't suppose you have one lying around?" She looked at the Vala hopefully.

"We possess no key of ports here that would allow for such a magical transport, Lady Molly, but thine alternative method should be effective nonetheless. Hast thou used thine arts to secure the jewel thou bears?"

The witch pulled out her wand and waved it over the pendant. "There you go, dear. Sticking charm. Not permanent, so no cause for alarm. Well, goodbye to you both, for the present. Shall we be off then, Neville?" She offered him an arm and he took it reluctantly.

Manwë addressed them before they had a chance to turn and disappear. "The goodwill of the Valar go with thee both, son of Longbottom, daughter of Prewett." He approached the teenager and regarded him gravely. "Do thy duty well, young Wizard. The fate of the West may depend upon it, for if the Fellowship fails, Middle Earth will fall."

Great, no pressure then. "Don't worry sir. I'll do everything I can to keep them safe and focussed on their mission. You can depend on me."

"See that thou dost, child. Our gratitude if thou succeeds shall be boundless."

The male Vala-Veela put his arm around his smiling wife and gave a graceful nod of farewell.

Neville clenched the coat of his Guardian tightly, wondering what the man would do to him if he failed.

As they turned on the spot, the last thing he saw was their graves faces, and the last thought that flashed through his mind was:

But, unknown to the brave adventurer, he had bigger problems to worry about than losing his head, for a force was about to be unleashed on the lands of the West that would shake its peoples to their very core...