Sanctuary of Arda

Year 861 of the Third Age, Middle-Earth, Arda.

I stood in the Hall of Galadriel and looked over the City of Caras Galadhon from the window in deep thought. I always came to this spot to do some deep thinking, when an issue weighed heavily on my mind. Today was no exception. Galadriel had finally taught me everything she could teach, but more had happened over the past three hundred and twenty years besides my training with her.

Albus continued to instruct me in all the arts of wizardry native to my realm. It was beginning to get to the point where I used the Pensive more for Albus's counsel and to keep all that I had learned fresh in my mind.

I had also explored the lands around Lorien. The furthest north I ventured was Erebor: The Lonely Mountain. And I had often visited the Wood Elves of Greenwood. I had never gone further east than the borders of Greenwood. And I ventured south to Fangorn Forest and to just beyond the borders of Rohan. I always travelled in my guise as an elf, and avoided meetings with any Men as much as possible. For I knew my time to reveal myself truly to Men had not yet come. Similarly I decided not to make contact with any of the Dwarven kingdoms, since I was chiefly in the guise of an elf, and dwarves were not known for their love of elves. On my journeys I had battles with wildlife, orc parties and even scattered bands of Easterlings that were stranded in the West, unable to return to their home due to the might of Gondor that lay about them.

The chief focus on my mind today was to contemplate how I felt after finally betrothing myself in Elf-fashion to Enebaiel and binding myself to her for all eternity. The formal rituals had taken place just yesterday. I had always thought that my best friends would be at my wedding.

I was both happy and afraid to find home in Middle-Earth. For I felt I was losing touch with my native realm in my mind. The language of my mind had long ago changed to Elvish as I rarely spoke the common tongue amongst other elves. Only Albus kept me anchored to my childhood past and I was in a way thankful for that.

I was surprised the next moment to find arms snake around my waist as I was hugged from behind.

"Thinking?" asked Enebaiel, resting her head contentedly against my back.. I smiled and rested my hands over hers.

"Yes," I answered, "thinking about my childhood, long past. My friends."

"You wished to have to them present at the ceremony?" she asked. I nodded.

"Do you still love them?" she asked.

"Of course I do," I replied turning around in the hug to face her and linking my own arms around her.

"Then they are always with you in spirit, no matter where you are or when," she replied.

"I know that, I should know that, but my heart yearns and it is not as easily satisfied as the mind," I replied, "right now I am the happiest wizard in all realms, but they do not know it, can not share in it."

She looked up at me and smiled softly. "Sometimes I wonder why you are bound by prophecy, but you have just proven to me why, your heart Thaurdacil is endless in its compassion and the love it can give, that has flourished despite the wronged upbringing you have had."

There was nothing I could say or do to that except lean down and kiss my wife. For a long time we did nothing but stay there and express our love for each other in tender touches and kisses. I finally found the courage to speak.

"Do elves have honeymoons?" I asked with a sparkle in my eye. She raised a single elegant eyebrow that meant she did not understand the reference, or partially did but I needed to elaborate. "I mean a period after bonding, do the couple go into isolation to...physically explore their union?" Her eyes lit up like starlight and she smirked at me.

"That does not happen until after seven days of celebration for the two newly joined families, but since I have none, and since Ladies Celebrian and Galadriel are your only family here then I suppose we could skip that part," she smiled.

"You realise that once we return to my native realm we will have to have another wedding?" I asked the corners of my mouth twitching in mirth at the reaction that I knew was coming.

"What?" she asked in an astonished and shocked voice.

"Don't worry, they're not as elaborate as weddings here are, they only take a day," I laughed. The look of relief on her face was priceless.

"That's the one thing I do not like about my culture," muttered Enebaiel, "everything takes too long and are stretched out and blown way out of proportion."

"I think it's something to do with the fact that elves are immortal," I smirked, "and since I am in the same boat, I can to a degree understand why the wedding ceremony takes that long."

"You're not the one who has to wear those awful robes the bride has to," she protested. She looked utterly adorable when flustered.

"Enough of that," I declared, "are we going to stand here and argue, or are we..." Enebaiel giggled and the sparkle returned to her eyes.

"I know of a place," she said and grabbed my hand to drag me along.

Year 933 of the Third Age, Middle-Earth, Arda.

I steered my horse to the right and up the small hill, passing through the arch of the Homely House. Enebaiel and I had been back to Rivendell for over five years now. And we were content to make our home here.

I halted my white stallion before the stables and handed off to an elfling on duty as stable boy. I had rather urgent news to give Lord Elrond, troubling news. For long has Lord Elrond been disturbed by what his Foresight has shown him and as a result he sent me do some scouting among the realms of Men, especially in Gondor.

As I walked to the house a welcome sight rushed to greet me. I wrapped Enebaiel in a hug and we kissed with relief and passion at seeing each other again.

"How are you my love?" I asked with a big smile.

"Fine, now that I know you are safe and home," she said and a tear leaked out of her eye. I wiped it off with the base of my thumb. I had been gone for six months and every day out of her presence tortured me.

"How are things in the House of Healing?" I asked.

"I have two apprentices who drive me crazy," she grumbled.

"How old are they?" I asked dubiously.

"Fifteen," she said.

"Ouch," I winced, I remembered those times as if yesterday, despite our ages of four hundred and forty nine.

"Tell me about it," she deadpanned.

"I will see you in our quarters at sundown," I declared and kissed her soundly again, "I have urgent news that Lord Elrond must be made aware of."

"Ok, are the realms of Men misbehaving again?" she asked with sarcasm.

"Something like that," I replied, "I'll tell you all at sundown, but can you do me a favour and clean Orthorum for me?"

Orthorum, was the name I had given to the sword I had wrought with a little help from the resident elf smiths. It was thirty three inches in length and had a curved blade much like Arwen's sword, Hadafang. Like my bow, Orthorum was enchanted. It glowed blue and vibrated when orcs were in a hundred meters of it. It also could penetrate any body armour except ones wrought out of mithril and stayed infinitely sharp.

I unbuckled the sheath I carried it in and Enebaiel accepted it with a nod, but her eyes frowned at seeing something, she unsheathed the blade partially and saw the dried blood.

"You were attacked?" she asked in a small voice.

"Yes, a roving band of thieves, Men," I explained. Seeing that her heart needed comfort I hugged her tight and looked deep into her eyes. "I am here; I will never leave you, even if Sauron himself should stand between you and me." She swallowed and seemed to be repressing tears.

"I miss you so at nights in our bed," her voice trembled as she fingered the pointed tips of my elf ears. It never failed to send a shuddering tremble through me when she did that.

"So does it pain me at nights as well, my love," I returned and resolved myself that she would feel content tonight again, whatever the cost to me.

She steeled herself and kissed me again and walked off into the house. A few minutes later I had put all my weapons away in my quarters and bathed the aches of my journey away. I dressed myself in grey-blue and white elf robes and walked to the library.

I found Lord Elrond seated luxuriantly in a chair his eyes furiously reading the book he was emerged in. He was no doubt aware of my presence but seemed inclined to continue reading his book for a while. Finally he snapped it shut and stood.

"Welcome back Istar-ion," said Elrond and gave me a brief elf version of a hug.

"It's good to be back ada," I smiled and Elrond gestured for me to follow him to his upper study. When we were behind closed doors, Elrond walked in deep thought to the wide open windows that overlooked Rivendell's majesty.

"What news do you bring of my misgivings about the realms of Men?" asked Elrond.

"It is largely as you have seen ada," I replied with a sigh, "not a month ago King Earnil took Umbar in force, and it is now a fortress of Gondor."

"Gondor's expansionistic ambitions bother me," said Elrond. "If it moves further south, Gondor will no doubt meet with the Harad, as that is their kingdom. But the Men of the West have never ventured that far."

"I take it the Harad are not the most sociable of cultures," I said dryly.

"That is an understatement my dear Thaurdacil, the Haradrim are Men of darker skin and thickly muscled and tall, their culture is based on a feudal tribe system and their way of life is war with each other," explained Elrond darkly.

"Will they unite to defeat an external threat?" I asked curiously.

"Oh most certainly," replied Elrond.

"Why?" I asked in a pleading manner to no one in particular, "Gondor has more than enough room for itself."

"The answer to that Thaurdacil is the primary weakness in the Race of Men," explained Elrond, "they desire power and everything that goes with it, and are never content with what they have already and so seek more to their utter ruin. That is why Middle-Earth finds itself still at the mercy of the Rings of Power."

"The Rohirrim are as always content where they are on their plains," I said suddenly remembering my other news, "I even managed to get an audience with their King."

"Indeed, how did you accomplish that?" asked Elrond astonished.

"Well, I decided to take my journey home on a route through the Gap of Rohan, and then move north along the Misty Mountains; however, while I was in the Eastfold I was met by a company of horse-lords. I was in my guise as an elf at the time," I smiled chuckling fondly.

"And?" prompted Elrond.

"Well, they were weary at first of me, but they were rather impressed at the well breeding of my horse Lendi, so we started off talking horses," I replied, "I told them I was a scout rider of Rivendell and on my way home, it turned out they were doing the same and were going home to Edoras.. So seizing on the opportunity I went along."

"I hope I have not done ill ada," I said nervously, "but to gain an audience with the King of Rohan I had to claim a title before him." Elrond seemed to find my plight amusing and he raised an eyebrow and the corners of his mouth twitched.

"What title did you claim?" asked Elrond amused.

"Well I certainly could not tell him I was a wizard, or just a scout," I said defensively, "I claimed the same title as the twins."

"Prince of Imladris?" asked Elrond laughing.

"It's not funny!" I exclaimed.

"Fear not dear Thaurdacil, you are my godson, and loved by all here, you can rightly claim that title," smiled Elrond, "but tell me of your brush with the King of Rohan?"

"Well he is a kind and generous person made me feel rather welcome, I stayed in Edoras for a night even," I replied, "had a good bout of conversation with him about the troubles affecting Rohan. They had a bad crop this year, so their food is running rather low but they made provision for it. There is also not a patrol that they send out that does not have a run in with the odd orc or band of robbers. I myself was attacked not a day's ride out from Rivendell."

"I shall give word to the sentries," nodded Elrond.

"How are the twins and Arwen?" I asked.

"They are happy that their mother has returned," commented Elrond evenly..

"Lady Celebrian is back?" I asked excited. I adored my godmother.

"Yes," said Elrond with a smile, his eyes flashed in happiness, "she returned about two months ago."

"And how are you feeling now ada?" I asked mischievously.

"Never you mind," frowned Elrond, "suffice it to say that your godmother and I have rather missed each other."

"I don't doubt it," I replied smiling, "where is she now?"

"She should be in the courtyard," replied Elrond, "now off with you and say hello you your godmother."

"Yes ada," I replied and hurried out of the study.

I did indeed find Lady Celebrian in the courtyard; she was practicing with the bow and arrow. Shooting at a target about fifty meters away and hitting the centre every time. I had long come to the conclusion that to use the bow as a weapon seemed to be in the very blood of an elf. I could train for another thousand years and not come close to the level of perfection that a similarly aged elf archer would have.

She loosed another arrow and hit the centre again. She wanted to loose another but the quiver slung across her back was empty.

"Naneth," I beckoned to her, "welcome home."

Celebrian dropped her bow and rushed to give me a hug.

"I am truly glad you are back," she murmured in the hug, "and Enebaiel tells me you have endured perils."

"I am here aren't I?" I asked rhetorically.

"That you are my son, "said Celebrian, "but it does not stop me from worry. And I am sure there will be countless more perils in your life. You are a messenger for the light in both your realms; pitted against two Dark Lords with no guarantees of success against either."

"There are no guarantees and nothing is ever certain," I replied, "but come I have not seen you for the odd century, naneth. Let us speak of more pleasant things."

"True my son," said Celebrian, "the Lady Galadriel sends her regards. She hopes you and Enebaiel are faring well, and wonders why there are no elflings running around yet. I also wonder for that matter."

"That is because of the fact that I must return to my realm once my work is done in Middle-Earth, long before our marriage she agreed to return with me," I smiled in memory of that day.

"So you only want to have children when you are in your native realm?" asked Celebrian.

"Yes, children that can grow up in peace with a father and a mother," I said.

"If that is both your decision then so be it," she smiled at me, "I guess I was just looking forward to seeing some grandchildren."

"Have the twins not found anyone yet?" I asked in astonishment.

"No," grumbled my godmother, "always out on adventures, hardly ever home.."

"And Arwen?" I asked not believing that the beauty of the Evenstar had not snared an Elf yet.

"She is the Evenstar, and most Elves regard her as a leader, she is too famous and no one understands her," replied Celebrian.

"I know how that feels," I muttered.

"Oh yes, that 'Boy-Who-Lived' nonsense," snorted Celebrian, "it is amazing what rumour mixed with truth can produce. Your biological mother died to save you and being the powerful witch she was, produced a protection on you with a power that would smite Sauron instantly as he stands."

"Yeah," I sighed, "I remember how awkward it was as an eleven year old to discover I had all this fame. Strangers greeting me everywhere as if I was kin, I shudder till this day about it. But back to our original topic, don't worry about the twins, who knows maybe they'll one day pop out each with a firieth that has stolen their hearts." (Mortal woman)

"Knowing them, they would do just that," she sighed exasperatedly.

"Relax naneth, you of all people should know that love does not choose according to what the mind wants," I said.

"Indeed my boy," she smiled wistfully looking in the direction I knew Elrond to be.

****

I silently pulled up the blankets to cover our intertwined nude forms as I did not want us to get a chill. Enebaiel was still breathing rather heavily but her sated expression showed her fulfilment and I was sure my face mirrored hers. I fell back onto the pillow and we stared at each other silently. My right hand was softly caressing her face and her locks of blonde hair.

"That was rather...vigorous," I commented.

"Your just punishment for staying away so long," she said sweetly.

"If that's punishment, I'd love to see what reward is," I chuckled heartily.

"Oh you will," she insisted darkly.

"Really? When?" I asked, the grin on my face must have been like an eager child waiting for his next present to be given.

"Patience," she replied silkily.

****

The next day I sat in my customary seat in the dining hall to have breakfast. Celebrian was sitting across from me, Elrond to my left and Arwen to my right. I started piling food on my plate when I noticed that all the members of my elf family were looking at me strangely. The moment ended and they continued with their breakfast. Puzzled, I did the same. That was when I heard Arwen lightly sniffing the air, after which she giggled.

"Thaurdacil, excuse the impertinent question at this table, but did you bathe before coming here?" asked Elrond. Celebrian seemed to be holding back some laughter.

"I did," I replied munching on some fruit, "why?" Elrond looked rather uncomfortable and stared at Celebrian in a pleading expression.

"Oh no," my godmother shook her head, "you are on your own for this."

"What our uncomfortable parents are trying to say Thaurdacil, is that you no longer smell like a Man, and that you still wear Enebaiel's scent on you like a perfume," said Arwen bluntly. I felt my face heat up and flush. Everyone laughed at my discomfort.

"Does it wear off?" I asked.

"No," replied Arwen through her giggles. My indignation must have showed but Celebrian came to my rescue.

"Do not worry son," she said, "it is not meant to come off, and it just marks you as 'taken' by her. So other she-elves know you are not available."

"Oh, well I just don't want to broadcast our...activities around for all of Rivendell to smell," I explained.

"No, it does not do that, as I said it's merely to ward off other she-elves," said Celebrian.

"Oh, that's not a problem," I replied and continued my breakfast. It was then that Enebaiel finally joined us. She sat next to Celebrian and her eyes twinkled at me mischievously. I met her eyes and sent my thoughts to her..

I'll get you back for this, why did you not tell me you had marked me?

Because my love, it was rather instinctual, but I'm sure if you ask Elrond, he will tell you that he senses your mark on me. As would all other male-elves.

I love you. I replied in response to that.

She smiled in a lop-sided grin and nodded.

"Ummm, ada?" I asked.

"Yes, Istar-ion," prompted Elrond. I leaned over and whispered in his ear the question, that I felt mortified to voice in front of Arwen. He looked at Enebaiel for a moment and nodded at me. Enebaiel chuckled and shook her head in exasperation at me.

Year 1050 of the Third Age, Middle-Earth, Arda

Elrond and I had been engaging in swordplay for the past hour. As much as it was fun it was also dead serious training. A lapse in concentration from either of us could have deadly results. We were in the courtyard and Celebrian and Arwen were also duelling with each other not ten meters away from us. The clashing steel of swords rang through the courtyard, like the tolling of bells.

I abruptly blocked an attack from Elrond and stopped. Lord Elrond had similarly stopped, his posture was tense. I abruptly stepped back and turned my mind outward, searching.

"Do you feel that ada?" I asked darkly.

"Yes," said Elrond lowering his sword and staring off into the distance. The other two duellers had noticed that they were no longer engaged in the fight and similarly stopped. Arwen and Celebrian looked worried at our outward expressions. My mind was rushing, trying to understand what I was sensing.

"What is it?" asked Arwen.

"I sense a shadow, as dark as the abyss, it has fallen over..." I trailed off.

"Greenwood," supplied Elrond.

"What makes this shadow?" asked Celebrian.

"That I cannot see, it is too veiled," I replied frustrated and sheathed my sword.

"My gaze cannot penetrate it either," said Elrond in anger.

"Could it be Sauron?" I asked.

"No," said Elrond, "I know that foul master of evil too well for him to deceive me in this fashion. It is not him."

"Well, we will get nowhere speculating on what it could be, although I have my opinion," I said to Elrond, "it could be a Nazgul."

"For that to be true Thaurdacil, it would mean that Sauron himself would also need to be very close to reasserting himself on this plane of existence," said Elrond.

"But what else could it be? I have read of nothing else in Middle-Earth that could cast such a foul shadow," I replied.

"Perhaps you are right," conceded Elrond, "but we must know for certain."

It was at this point that an out of breath elf arrived bearing a scroll. He handed it off to Elrond who only muttered his thanks at the delivery. The elf lord unrolled the scroll and glanced at it for a few moments. He looked up and traded glances with all of us.

"What does it say?" asked Celebrian.

"It is from the Lady Galadriel," replied Elrond, "her Mirror has perceived two things she believes we must be aware of. Hyarmendacil has conquered the Harad."

"I can't say it's much of a relief to hear that ada," I said bluntly, "I would rather there have been no war at all, there was no need for it. And so another cycle of retribution and revenge has begun."

"Truly," said Elrond, "the second thing she mentions directly concerns you Thaurdacil."

"And?" I asked with bated breath, the Mirror was not guaranteed to give you pretty visions.

"Thaurdacil, look with your mind towards the west, to where you know the Grey Havens to be," instructed Elrond. I felt frustrated that he just did not tell me but complied with his wishes.

My minds eye roamed towards the west, searching, looking for anything that would stand out. I found nothing until I saw the Grey Havens itself, the harbour where Cirdan the ship smith chiefly resided and a good number of elves. I gasped and abruptly broke from the vision before they saw me there.

I opened my eyes and found myself in a chair they had placed beneath me. Elrond looked at me in concern and had his hand on the side of my face, murmuring in Elvish. I saw that Enebaiel was also there and had my hand wrapped in hers and her eyes in tears

"He's back," said Arwen. Celebrian came hurrying over and Elrond stopped his chanting.

"How long was I under?" I asked weakly.

"About twenty minutes," supplied Celebrian. Enebaiel launched herself up and sat in my lap, scattering everyone else who had attended to me, while I was in the trance. She was positively feral in kissing me and I had no choice but to reciprocate.

"Don't you dare do anything like that again," she exclaimed angrily after breaking the kiss, I wanted to reply but she never let me and kissed me again to silence me. "Do you understand?" she asked dangerously. I nodded nervously with wide eyes.

"What did you see?" asked Elrond who was restraining his laughter, only to receive a glare from Enebaiel.

"I am not alone anymore," I said with a sigh, "five other wizards have arrived by ship and have docked at the Grey Havens. The reason you saw me gasp and why I was out for so long was because I had to retreat too quickly, they would have surely sensed me had I remained for any longer."

"It is as the Lady Galadriel has seen," nodded Elrond, "they are such as you, messengers to contest Sauron. Only they are from far in the West over the Sea."

"It will not take them long to find me," I stated, "they have but to turn their minds to find the Chief Eldar and they will find me as well. And their first destination will be to make contact with you ada, they have already met Cirdan, then next will be Galadriel."

"Why are you worried about them my love?" asked Enebaiel.

"They may be here to contest the will of Sauron, but they may feel I am a threat to them or an unnecessary risk, an untold number of things could go wrong, I might even find myself battling with them," I said.

"Let us hope your fears never come to pass," said Celebrian.

"As do I," I replied to this, "wizards' battling each other to the death are a great and evil thing, something that Middle-Earth should never see." I stood and beckoned to Elrond. "How long till they reach Imladris (Rivendell)?"

"If I know Cirdan," smiled the Chief Eldar, "he has given them all horses as gifts. But he has given something else, but I will not speak willingly of it, that surprises me. You have perhaps two weeks until they reach Imladris."

"I need to speak to Albus," I stated shortly and headed to my quarters.

****

"Interesting," murmured Albus.

"Is that all you can say?" I asked incredulously.

"I can say a lot of things my dear Harry, but on this subject that is all I can say, the fact that you now have contemporaries in this world is interesting, I have no proper advice to give you but to keep an open mind at your first meeting with them and reveal yourself fully," said Albus.

"Are there any qualitative differences between staffs and wands?" I asked.

"No," replied Albus, "except that the staff can be used as a physical weapon, whereas the wand can not."

"All these wizards carry unique staffs," I elaborated.

"Indeed," said Albus, "do you feel the need to fashion one similar for yourself?"

"Yes, I don't know why but I must," I said standing up and pacing restlessly, "we have two weeks."

"Then let us get started," said Albus.

****

I stood with the elf smith who was looking with prideful expression on his work. The staff I saw that he had fashioned for me was amazing. When I had approached the elf with the plans I had drawn up with Albus I had thought at first that he would claim it would be impossible for him to do. The smith had merely looked at the plan and then at me, and said: "It shall be done."

The staff was the same length as my body, about just under six feet. It was just less than an inch in diameter and was made out of the super strong mallorn tree wood, and was polished to a shining mahogany finish. The head of the staff consisted out of a carved phoenix with wings half folded, as if ready to shoot into the air at any moment. The phoenix was surrounded by an ovoid cage, to protect the sculpture of it. For the magical core that was enfolded inside the staff, we needed to get creative.

Albus had no idea what magical creatures could possibly be in Rivendell. I had a fair idea of them but had no idea which one would be willing to give me something of themselves which they could part with. Elrond told me that he would take care of it.

It was not two days later that Elrond came and gave me a huge feather that had a matted brown colour.

"This is an eagle feather from Gwaihir, the Winglord," replied Elrond, "I explained to him your need and he agreed to provide this." I accepted this with an awed expression.

"Please tell Gwaihir thank you for me ada," I said awed, the eagles in Middle-Earth were nothing like those from Earth. They were magical, powerful, supremely intelligent, smart and physically huge. I have read that they could effortlessly bear a fully grown Man in their claws.

"He will no doubt call on you at some time in the future Thaurdacil for help and you will be obligated to give it," said Elrond, "he did not give that feather lightly."

I smoothed my hand softly over the staff and abruptly picked it up and settled it in my hand. I could feel it responding to me as an aura of magic surrounded for a moment and then disappeared. It roughly felt like when I was first issued my wand all those years ago.

"It's perfect," I said with a grin.

****

Albus looked at me with a profound expression as I stood in front of him, in my emerald wizard robes with my staff in my right hand. I had returned my ears to their original form and I had no morphing applied whatsoever, except for those on my eyes.

As my metamorph abilities had allowed me to change my eyes to correct for my poor eyesight that had me wearing glasses the whole time.

"Harry," said Albus, "you look like as if Merlin had jumped out of the pages of these books." I laughed at this.

"Have you tried casting spells with it?" asked Albus.

"No," I replied.

"Harry, casting with a staff is remarkably different in approach, a directional spell you wanted to aim specifically and be dead sure to hit the target would require that you point the head of the staff directly at the target, much as if you would fire a rifle," explained Albus, "the other way is to brandish the staff in the general direction where you want the spell and focus you mind on where you want the spell to go. With a wand, where you point is where the spell goes. The focusing of where the spell has to go is why wizards today do not use a staff; it is simply much easier to use a wand."

I nodded and we squared off against each other. I hiccupped a bit with the aim of the first spell and it shot off to the side instead of at Albus, but from there once I had got the hang of also concentrating on the direction of my spell work it was rather easy. Then something else struck me.

"How come I don't need to perform a specific movement with the staff to perform spells?" I asked.

"That is another reason why staff's fell out of favour, the disciplined mind needed to control you magic through a staff is quite vast. The easy wand movement helps alleviate the pressure on your mind on how to structure your magic to form a spell," explained Albus, "most wizards and witches simply do not have that capability of mind. Whereas you Harry have been performing magic for the better part of five hundred and fifty years and has been practicing Occlumency for equally that long."

I nodded and we continued the duel, we were not aiming to beat the other, simply run ourselves through our paces so to speak. If any of his classmates saw him duelling like this...

****

I stood in the study with Elrond standing next to me. We were looking out the windows, waiting. I could not help but be nervous and I clutched my hand around my phoenix staff reflexively.

"Relax Thaurdacil," instructed Elrond calmly. There was a knock on the door and a member of the Sentry guard of Imladris entered.

"Lord Elrond, there are a group of five wizards seeking to enter Imladris," stated the elf sentry.

"Let them pass," nodded Elrond. The elf bowed and disappeared through the door again. Twenty minutes passed and I could hear the beating of horse's hooves on the cobblestones on the road leading into the Homely House. I frowned as I saw the first riders appear into view and the group of wizards passed below me quickly. They were all old in appearance; it looked to me as if five contemporaries of Albus had just ridden past me.

"I will meet them," said Elrond, "you will be summoned when I have welcomed them and they are settled in the dining hall."

I nodded and Elrond left the study, leaving me to prepare myself for what I knew without a doubt would be an unpleasant experience.

*****

So it was that five wizards were seated in the dining hall while the head of the table was occupied by Elrond. The Chief Eldar looked critically at each wizard and tried to compare them to Headmaster Dumbledore. Thaurdacil had occasionally allowed him to enter the basin of thoughts and converse with his adopted son's wizard mentor. The Headmaster was a kindly, eccentric old wizard, but it only disguised the huge subtlety that Elrond sensed he possessed. Elrond was fascinated by the lore of 'Earth' that the Headmaster possessed and the culture of wizards that existed there.

And as Elrond was a lore-master he had written all the things he knew of the realm of 'Earth' in a journal and he knew that he most likely would never finish it to his liking.

Elrond saw that each wizard had a specific colour of robes that they wore; white, grey, brown, blue and green. And unlike his godson, they were all old in appearance. A wizard's strength was obviously not in physical combat, but Elrond noted that each wizard did carry a long sword.

"Greetings wizards, and welcome to Imladris or Rivendell in the common tongue, you are in the Last Homely House east of the Sea. I am Lord Elrond Halfelven," said Elrond. The wizard wearing white robes spoke first.

"Well met Lord Elrond I am Saruman the White," said the wizard. Saruman was swathed in a great white cloak and white robes. His face was long with a high forehead, he had deep darkling eyes, hard to fathom, though the look they bore now was grave and benevolent, and a little weary. His hair and beard were white, but strands of black still showed about his lips and ears.

"Good day Lord Elrond, I am Gandalf the Grey," said the wizard to his right. He wore a tall pointed hat, a long grey cloak, and a silver scarf. He had a long white beard and bushy eyebrows that stuck out beyond the brim of his hat.

Next to greet Elrond was a wizard by the name of Radagast the Brown. He seemed in appearance the youngest of the five. He had no beard but his long hair was still grey as frost. His robes were the colour of brown earth. Then Brennan the Blue introduced himself followed finally by Germian the Green.

For long they talked about the various troubles of Middle-Earth. They discussed Sauron and all his servants, and Elrond gave them an overview of the current situation among the realms of Men. Mostly they talked about the shadow that had fallen over Greenwood. Then Gandalf the Grey ventured the first question that Elrond had chiefly been waiting for.

"Master Elrond, you seem well versed about wizards for someone who has not seen one until this very day," stated Gandalf.

"Indeed, Gandalf the Grey, to the Eldar it was long known ere the beginning of the Third Age that messengers out of the West would come that would challenge Sauron's will," said Elrond.

"Yet you already have a name for us in Elvish, Master Elrond, Istari," said Radagast.

"Very well, I will explain," said Elrond with a sigh, "a vanguard of your kind has been here for over five hundred and fifty years."

"What?" said Saruman suddenly, "that is impossible, and no others were sent."

So Lord Elrond explained how a very young wizard had ended up on his doorstep quite literally all those long years ago. The other wizards listened in interest and all wore frowns of deep thought. Saruman's face portrayed his absolute disapproval but Gandalf listened speculatively and almost with a smile. Elrond also explained what little he knew of Thaurdacil's home realm.

"He does not belong here," concluded Saruman immediately after Elrond had finished saying all he would on his godson's behalf.

"If that is true Saruman," argued Gandalf, "then he would not be here, but yet he is."

"Where is this wizard now?" asked Radagast.

"He is upstairs at this very moment," replied Elrond.

"We have heard this wizard's elf name Master Elrond, by what was he called in his native realm?" asked Germian the Green.

"Harold," said Elrond after a moment's thought.

"Then we would much desire to speak to him," said Saruman.

"I will send for him," nodded Elrond.

Year 1100 of the Third Age, Middle-Earth, Arda

I walked ahead slowly, the boughs of what was now known as Mirkwood by the Men of Gondor hung over me. I knew I was not far from the shadow I had sensed some fifty years ago. I could feel its pervasive presence and it sickened me. But I had to discover what it was once and for all.

I had long lost patience with the rest of the Wise (the Istari and the Chief Eldar) as they were more content to talk, talk, talk and see what happens. Instead of just simply coming to Mirkwood and finding out. I did not travel in disguise anymore. I was wearing gleaming grey-black wizard robes fashioned for me by the elves. The story behind why I was wearing such robes was one which I loathed to recall.

The Wise did not know of my errand. And I knew they would try to stop me had I told them of my purpose in journeying to the source of the shadow in Mirkwood. It surprised me then that as I followed the shadow to its source that I would happen upon a lone mountain among the woods. Examining my map of the area, I concluded that this had to be Dol Guldur.

Upon the summit of the mountain was built a fortress of great strength. It was a far flung legacy of the second age of Middle-Earth, during the Dark Years of Sauron's domination. It was a place built by Gondor to serve watch upon the North approaches to the Kingdom, but it was long abandoned after the Last Alliance of Elves and Men.

Dol Guldur was tall, almost in the appearance of a tower; it had high thick walls surrounding it and had a construction typical of late Numenorian design. Rounded windows, and battlements dotted the fortress and I could see the emplacements where at one time long ago, trebuchets and catapults must have stood. It was mid day and only the sound of silence and emptiness was in the air. The sound of nature was muted here. Only the eerie singing of the wind was reaching my ears. The entire area sent shivers down my spine.

I gritted my teeth and walked forward, my staff clunking on the ground as I scaled up the mountain, looking for the doors to the fortress. I had to walk all the way to the south face of the mountain to see the doors. And what I beheld had adrenaline searing through me.

The doors to the fortress were shut tight. Definitely there was some presence residing here. I knew then that the time for stealth had long passed. If something or someone was occupying Dol Guldur then they have had a long time to spot me. I concentrated briefly and apparated myself onto one of the battlements of the fortress.

I continued my exploration and walked along the battlements carefully surveying the inner fortress. I rather had to watch my step walking as there was numerous items that littered the floors; rusted swords, shattered shields and spears, and even the occasional skeleton or skull.

I finally spied a door that would lead me inside the corridors of the fortress proper. It was even more perilous to walk inside the fortress. The air was cold and stale and there was no light. I raised my staff and let an illumination spell issue forth from it. It revealed gaps in the floor and made me rather thankful I had decided to forego stealth.

Stepping carefully around the gaps I started to search through the fortress of Dol Guldur.

*****

It happened as I neared the pinnacle of the fortress. A sweeping cold wind rippled past me. It amazed me that I could actually see what little happiness and cheer there was still left in the place be swept away like dust in a strong wind. I whirled around to face towards where I sensed this sudden malice had erupted from. I flared the light from my staff down the corridor I was in. Such light had not been seen in these walls for hundreds of years.

The light revealed to me a black wraith in the shape of a tall man. All the light I cast simply disappeared inside the wraith. It did not take a genius to know what I was confronted with. It was a Nazgul. I could not tell which one of the nine it was, but if it was the Witch-King, then I knew I was in for the fight of my life.

"Who disturbs me?" said the wraith, a harsh and twisted voice it had. I considered briefly whether to answer or just start battling with it immediately.

"I am Harold the Black," I answered.

"Why are you here?" it asked in an eerie whisper.

"I have long sensed a shadow that has fallen on this place from afar, and have come to investigate it," I replied in an even unemotional voice.

"Then seek no further, for you have found it, I cast this shadow on this land," it answered.

"Why?" I asked insistently.

"I am a slave, it is the bidding of my master," it answered shortly.

"Who are you?" I asked quickly.

"I do not remember, all I know is that I was a King once and my power comes from the master, and I am forever bound to him," replied the Nazgul-wraith.

"Are you sure you cannot break free?" I asked and then I knew I was merely stalling for time before the inevitable.

"I have long tried after he snared me, but it is impossible, he is too strong, and I am merely a finger on his hand now," said the Nazgul, "his hold over me is not strong yet and I wish it were not so but I must kill you now."

"Did your master tell you to do this?" I asked my eyes flashing.

"Yes," answered the Nazgul.

"Then why does he not come forth himself and do his own dirty work?" I sneered.

"His power in this realm is too weak," said the Nazgul, "but his power over me though weak is absolute."

Without warning the wraith surged forward, but I was more than ready for it.

"Toltha Berian," (Sindarin version of the incantation) I said stabbing my staff toward the approaching wraith. A huge bright white form of a stag appeared, Prongs, the animagus form of my father. It charged down the wraith and rammed it with its antlers. There was a high pitched scream of pain as the wraith was battered by the Patronus.

I wasted no time in apparating away.

****

With a heavy sigh of relief I saw that I had reappeared just beyond the arch that was the entrance to the Last Homely house. I took a few moments to compose myself and walked inside. My first goal to speak to Elrond immediately but I encountered Gandalf and Radagast in the courtyard first and they were engaged in a hushed conversation.

"Greetings Harold, how are you?" asked Gandalf. I nodded in greeting to both wizards.

"I am well, but I return from a journey and have news that the Wise need to be informed of," I replied darkly.

"Oh?" asked Radagast.

"Yes," I replied patiently, "who is here to attend such a meeting?"

"Saruman is abroad, as are Germian and Brennan," said Gandalf. It was then that Lord Elrond approached having sensed his godson's appearance.

"Greetings ada," I said and we hugged briefly.

"Returned from your journey, and all is well?" asked Elrond.

"All is far from well, my destination was Mirkwood, where I tracked the shadow we have long sensed there and discovered at last its source," I said with a challenging glint in my eye towards the other two wizards.

"I think we were rather apt in giving you the colour of 'black' in the order," said Radagast, amusement apparent in his voice, "for you do the absolute opposite of everything Saruman the White has counselled."

"Do you want to know what it is or not?!" I snapped angrily, "or do you want to sit here on your behinds and gaze out at the world and wait for doom to befall Middle-Earth?"

"Calm down, Thaurdacil, of course we want to know," said Elrond reasonably. He had long played mediator between me and the other wizards, when I lost my temper with them.

"It's definitely a Nazgul," I said, "and I had a brief conversation with it before it decided I was an enemy. I think my appearance made it pause as it was uncertain whether I was friend or foe. I briefly fought with it before I managed to escape and journey back to Imladris."

"In what shape did it present itself?" asked Gandalf.

"I confronted it in a pitch dark corridor near the pinnacle of Dol Guldur as that is the ancient fortress where the Nazgul resides now," I replied, "it showed itself in shape of a man, but no body or features are visible, merely a shadow of a deep abyss in the form of a man."

"Did it reveal anything in your conversation?" asked Radagast.

"I managed to discern that Sauron himself has barely begun to manifest himself again, as the Nazgul could receive orders from the Dark Lord," I said with a sigh, "it is apparent to me that this Nazgul is but a vanguard for the remaining eight to appear and then the spirit of Sauron will no doubt be strong enough to return."

"Dark is this news," said Elrond.

I had said my peace and so walked to the bridge joining the two parts of the household and leaned forward on the railing, staring off into the water that rushed passed under me. I knew with this news I had brought the Wise, the true war against Sauron was going to flare into life again.

"Penny for your thoughts Harold?" asked the voice of Gandalf whimsically.. The old wizard stood next to me also leaning against the railing.

"It will not be long now," I said, "once all of the Nine are about in the world again, and foul things will arise and press all free kingdoms with machinations of war."

"I wish it were so simple Harold," said Gandalf with a sigh, "the enemy would be a fool to issue forth his servants into full scale war at any point in the near future. The might of the free peoples of Middle-Earth are too great if they perceive a common foe and unite against Sauron."

Abruptly I remembered the wisdom of the Sorting Hat all those years ago.

"Only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided," I commented grimly.

"Very insightful Harold," complimented Gandalf, "yes, Sauron will apply his evil mind and deceptions to slowly weaken those who would oppose him. He will draw this process out over a long time, so as to not risk us uniting against him."

"How long about, do you reckon?" I asked curiously.

"I would not be surprised if he plans to take two thousand years to do this," answered Gandalf.

"Those are many lifetimes of Men," I commented.

"Indeed," said Gandalf, "for his chief worry has long been the Race of Men. He was alarmed at the power of Men in the Second Age. It is chiefly why Sauron's efforts at destruction were focused on Numenor and the seduction of the Nine Kings of Men, with the Rings of Power."

"Odd," I said, "Elrond considers Men to be weak, yet Sauron fears their potential power enough to have applied all his evil efforts on them."

"Lord Elrond, being a powerful elf, sees with hardly any prejudice clouding his eyes, but there is prejudice never the less," said Gandalf.

"So," I said, "how have you been Gandalf?"

"I have been exploring much of Rivendell's knowledge, as you have done in past," said Gandalf, "forewarned is forearmed, my friend."

"How long before you begin in your endeavours against the enemy?" I asked.

"Not long," said Gandalf, "not long."

Year 1300 of the Third Age, Middle-Earth, Arda

The map in front of me was silently mocking me. I was staring at a cross-sectional map of the dwarf haven I was standing in. The haven itself was burrowed in a mountain not a few miles from the source of the Gladden River and a great many dwarves lived here. Next to me, staring at the same map with a rough frown on his face was the leader of the haven, Boin Manbrow.

I was in length over twice the size of the dwarves bustling around me in the 'war room'. I had a hard time making out the difference between individual dwarves. But Boin I recognized by the distinctive braiding of his bushy beard, as it marked him as the leader.

"What are the latest reports?" I asked.

"Orcs have won into the entrance chamber, and the two directly adjoining it," said Boin, "we have stopped them for now, the doors there are thick and it will take the cave trolls a while to breach them."

"How many are the force that assails us?" I asked.

"By the word of the dwarves who survived the initial attack, a host of five hundred," said Boin.

"And you have sufficient strength to repel this?" I asked wearily.

"That we do Harold the Black, but fighting indoors like this is a different barley of beer than the open battles you are used to," said Boin.

"Yes I know," I sighed.

"But it is those cave trolls that foil us," growled Boin in frustration.

"I will take care of that," I replied, "for now you must get your dwarves ready to counter attack, when those doors are breached you must attack with swiftness and surprise at your heels."

"Aye, that we will," said Boin and started to growl orders to his underlings.

"Is this Harold the Black?" asked a fair voice. I whirled in surprise to see for the first time a female dwarf. She was on even height with Boin, and had long bushy black hair; she was clad in dark green robes that hid her figure and her face was angular and the skin gnarled much like Boin's.

Boin turned to her with a look of annoyance: "Yes, this is one of the wizards of whom tales spoke. And you should not be here, in times of peril all females are to go to the inner havens."

"I know that," she retorted angrily, "but I would like to see and speak with my own eyes." She stepped forward and extended a hand to me, I bowed and had to kneel kiss her hand. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you Harold the Black. My name is Nori Snowbrow, Boin," she sneered, "is my husband."

"It's a honour for me to meet you Lady Nori," I said, "I am privileged indeed to meet a fair member of the Dwarf race."

"That you are," scoffed Boin, "now please my dear, go to where you are safe."

"I will," she snarled, "as long as you promise me to tell of the arts of wizardry you see."

"I can satisfy your curiosity Lady Nori," I said with a chuckle, and switched my staff to my left hand and drew my wand with a flick of the wrist.

"Flosculus," I murmured and out of the tip of my wand burst a bouquet of lilies. Nori's eyes widened with wonder and she accepted the bouquet gently fingering it to see if her eyes were not deceiving her.

"Avis," and a small flock of doves burst out of the wand.

"Thank you Harold the Black," she bowed, "but you are not off the hook." She growled at Boin and stalked off.

"Sorry," I murmured to the chief dwarf. I had really hoped to smooth Nori over but it had not worked.

"Don't worry Harold," said Boin, "you tried, I give you that."

"It's time I think," I said and Boin led me to the chamber which was half filled with dwarves in thick armour and all armed with ornate axes. The door on the other side of the circular room was thundering and quaking as the cave troll on the other side bashed against it.

I drew my sword and it illuminated the entire room with an eerie blue glow, my staff I kept in my left hand.

"Interesting sword," sniffed Boin. I ignored the Chief dwarf; he was undoubtedly commenting on the obvious elfish design inherent in it.

The door cracked visibly now bust it still held firm for the moment. Dwarves were truly skilled in the building arts, as witnessed by the strength of the door. I had even give thought to seal the door with magic, but that would merely prolong the siege of haven. There had to be a resolution to this, for good or ill.

"Do not fear the sight of the troll!" shouted Boin. "It will be dealt with, hew orc with no fear and we will send these fowl beasts back to the abyss from which they came!"

The dwarves shouted as one in a strange language I could not understand, but it was definitely a battle cry.

With a final loud shattering noise the door was destroyed and a cave troll of twelve feet in height burst into the chamber, with orcs spilling inside on its heels. I raised my staff.

"Avada Kedavra," I murmured and a green light shot forth from my staff in a bright beam and hit the cave troll. It died instantly and fell to the ground crushing a good number of orcs under its huge bulk. The dwarves swept on their opponents like a storm and the glint of their axes was flying everywhere as they battled.

"Genio Orc Expelliarmus" I cast the grouped spell slashing and decapitating an orc effortlessly with a twirl of my sword.

The effect to the amazement of the dwarves was nothing short of miraculous. All the orc's weapons were flung away by an invisible hand and threw them off balance. The dwarves were quick to capitalise on this fortune and it was but a few moments that all the orcs assailing them were dead.

The battle did not end there as they dwarves charged forward to liberate the taken chamber beyond; at this point Boin ordered that their number must be divided in half. One party was to attack the orcs assailing the other adjoining chamber from behind and the other to attack the entrance hall.

I hurried to join the former group and we attacked the orcs from behind. A quick Killing Curse had also dispatched another cave troll and the tide turned immediately. The two prongs of the dwarf attack united again and assaulted the entrance hall, where I had to kill two cave trolls. The orcs were routed and the few who remained fled into the night.

"And good riddance," growled Boin, "a fine mess you left us to clean up!"

****

I arrived home in Rivendell three days later. And I was startled to see that Gandalf was here as well. My five fellow wizards had long taken station in other parts of Middle-Earth to bring their talents to bear against Sauron where the need was greatest. Gandalf, who was often called the Grey Pilgrim by Men because of his ceaseless travels and deeds never claimed a home or base of operations. It was rare to run into him these days.

"Harold," greeted Gandalf and we hugged briefly.

"Gandalf, it's good to see you," I replied, "what brings you to Imladris?"

"I have come to speak with Lord Elrond, and you, news I bring," said the grey wizard.

"What is it?" I asked with a frown of worry.

"Your assertion that the Nine would reappear has come to fruition," said Gandalf, "the Witch King of Angmar has returned to his old domain."

"That makes my tidings become clearer," I replied to this news, "but three days ago I helped a dwarf haven survive attack by a host of orcs."

"How many?" asked Gandalf sharply.

"On initial estimate it was five hundred orcs, in the ensuing battle I had to revise that to eight hundred, plus cave trolls," I sighed.

"Only the hands of Sauron can control and coordinate orcs in such a manner," said Gandalf darkly.

"Yes, it is becoming clear to me that evil things are multiplying, the Misty Mountains are being slowly populated by orcs, where they reside I have no idea," I said angrily.

"Yes, that is clear, let us speak with Elrond," said Gandalf.

*****

The large bathroom in the guest quarters I saw had its door closed. Usually that would mean I had to wait till whoever was done was out. But the fact that I sensed Enebaiel in the bathroom beyond was rather enticing. I knew every inch of her as she knew me. And right now the picture of her beauty wading luxuriantly in a bath, really made me hot and bothered, with a grin of mischievousness I willed myself invisible and apparated inside.

She was indeed wading in the large bath, with her head leaning against the edge of the bath. The distorting effect of the water obscured my view of her, but that made it all the more alluring. I had to really resist the urge to laugh at the surge of mischievousness and anticipation that coursed through me.

"Ier yat nillo?" asked her beautiful voice. (Are you joining me?) I found myself annoyed that I had forgotten to properly occlude my emotions. I became visible and with a flick of my fingers, banished my clothes in a neat pile next to hers. The water was nice and warm as always as I waded towards her and she embraced me and we kissed with passion. The feel of our wet bodies against each other was otherworldly in its intoxication.

She led me over to the cleaning lotions and started to bathe me. I had never experienced bathing together like this as such an erotic sensation. Her hands moved over every inch of skin I possessed, stroking, cleaning, and even tickling. Then it was my turn and did I treasure every moment of this bliss.

We climbed out of the water and explored our love right there on the floor. For what seemed like an eternity but actually only forty five minutes, I reverently explored the secret world that only we shared with each other, she climbed to the heights of ecstasy three times before I could no longer ignore my own need and we joined as one.

Afterwards we lay together, I was spooned behind her and my arms were coiled around her as we cuddled in the bliss. We spoke for a long time in whispers of Sindarin, professing our love and devotion to each other as if it was the days of our wedding all over again.

Year 1641 of the Third Age, Middle-Earth, Arda

Word of my coming had gone before me in Minas Arnor, and at once I was admitted, silently and without question. I strode across the wide paved court. A sweet fountain swirled water there in the morning sun, and a sward of bright green lay about it; but in the midst next to the pool, stood a young sapling of tree, barely a foot above the ground.

I found myself at the doors of the great hall beneath the gleaming tower; and I passed the tall silent door wardens and entered the cool echoing shadows of the house of stone. I walked down a paved passage, long and empty; I halted before a tall door of polished metal and knocked.

The door opened, but I could not see who had opened it. I looked into a great hall; it was lit by deep windows in the wide aisles at either side, beyond the rows of tall pillars that upheld the roof. Monoliths of black marble, they rose to great capitals carved in many strange figures of beasts and leaves; and far above in shadow the wide vaulting gleamed with dull gold, inset with flowing traceries of many colours. No hangings nor storied webs, nor any things of woven stuff or of wood, were to be seen in this long solemn hall; but between the pillars there stood a silent company of tall images engraved in stone.

At the far end upon a dais of many steps was set a high throne under a canopy of marble shaped like a crowned helm; behind it carved upon the wall and set with gems an image of a tree in flower. Upon the throne sat a man who seemed to be in his middle ages, he was adorned in red flowing robes and a silver circlet was placed upon his head which was flowing with dark brown hair. He radiated of high race and lordship but his face was as sad and graven with age in spirit.

I walked forward briskly, my staff tapping and echoing in the empty hall with every other step. I stopped a respectful distance from the King. He was aware of me, no doubt, but was lost in another world of thought.

"Hail, King of Gondor, Lord of Minas Arnor, Tarondor, son of Telemnar. I am come with counsel," I greeted the King as was custom and proper. I was totally unprepared though for the King to burst out in laughter.

"Excuse me, Harold the Black," said Tarondor after recovering himself, while I silently fumed and waited patiently, "for as you can see there are little counsellors to be had here." He gestured to the empty hall. "They are all dead and buried. I am lucky to still have a family after the plague."

The King was referring to the Great Plague of 1636 that had devastated Gondor and all the lands of the North and West.

"There is nothing that can be done of that," I replied, "but to accept it and move on. Life will renew itself given enough time and proper conditions. To not do so would be to ensure the utter and complete ruin of Gondor. I am concerned that Mordor is left unguarded as result."

"What would you have me do Harold the Black?" retorted the King angrily, "there are no men left to do that. I am lucky we have enough to keep Minas Arnor fully defended."

"I know that," I replied calmly, "all I want is your assurance and that of your future descendants that when the numbers of men have been restored in a few generations that you will renew your vigilance on Mordor."

"And why should I do that?" asked the King.

"Surely you know that the Nazgul are moving in the world again, indeed it will not be long before Sauron reasserts himself on this Middle-Earth, he will most surely be looking to his old realm with hopes of return," I said gravely.

"Even if what you hope comes to pass, and the vigilance on Mordor is renewed, it is impossible to have the fortresses that ring the land of the enemy supplied without Osgilliath, and it has fallen to ruin," said the King, his anger apparent.

"I see," I replied, "and with the loss of the palantir in Osgilliath it would be impossible to coordinate any proper defence from anything that could come out of the black land."

"Exactly," muttered the King.

"But at the very least your eyes are ears must be kept on the land of enemy, and those of your descendants must do so as well," I said.

"Very well," said the King, "I will make that pledge. Now leave and be content, and you may have access to the library, Gandalf the Grey was here not a year ago and asked that same privilege."

"I thank you for your kindness King Tarondor," I bowed and took my leave..

Year 1974 of the Third Age, Middle-Earth, Arda

I sat in the courtyard of Rivendell and rubbed my weary head. I had spent most of the day in the library with my nose buried in books. Hermoine would be so proud of me. I had come here with hopes of easing my troubled mind but I knew I was doomed to a headache when an elf rushed to me and delivered a letter for me. Looking at the seal I noticed at once it was from Radagast the Brown. As I read it I could only groan at the most foul of news to come to me for a long time. I rolled up the parchment and set off to find Lord Elrond.

He was in his study and an unaccountably large number of books were piled on his desk. My father was not reading and stared out of the window in a vague reverie.

"Ada," I prompted, he turned to me and smiled.

"Yes, my son, what is it?" he asked.

"Radagast has received word from the eagles," I replied, "he says the Witch-king and his forces have overrun Arthedain and has taken Fornost."

"What will you do?" asked Elrond with a sense of foreboding.

"I will do what I must, ada," I said simply, "at dawn tomorrow, I ride for Fornost. The Witch King has been allowed to go unchallenged personally for too long."

"At least get Gandalf to go with," said Elrond.

"And how do I find him ada?" I asked rhetorically. "He comes as is his wont, as do I."

Year 1975 of the Third Age, Middle-Earth, Arda

The North Kingdom of Arnor had ended the year previously, but what I saw before me would make people doubt that had ever happened. A great host of five thousand knights on horse stood in rank and file before me. I was mounted on my own horse and trotted up and down, inspecting the formations for myself.

Riding next to me was the leader of the Arnor remnant, Aranarth. He was a tall man, with his face radiating the nobility and strength of Numenor. In the manner of all his kindred they were clad in ornate shining mail with red cloaks and their swords were long. They had few proper bowmen to speak of, as all the knights were also versed in it and could deliver volleys if they were pressed to do so.

"I have never seen such stubborn pride and nobility in any army on Middle-Earth," I commented to Aranarth.

"They fight for something more than their lives," said Aranarth. I looked to Fornost on our left.

It was second biggest city in the now nonexistent North Kingdom. Its buildings were proud and strong, with soft smooth lines and pleasing marble grey. Now, there was a clear blight on it, as columns of smoke rose into the air.

"Do you mind if I speak to your men for a few moments?" I asked, hiding my nervousness.

"I have spoken my part to them before the battle," said Aranarth, "you have my leave to do so." I nodded in thanks and cast a Sonorus spell on my voice, to allow the host of Men before me to hear me.

"Men of Arnor," I prompted, "in a few minutes I will ride with you into battle. You fight not for me, not for Aranarth; your captain, you fight for yourselves, for your very existence. In that city is a foe that you all fear, and you truly should fear him, it is a fool who does not! Do not give in to despair, keep a strong heart and you will see through the day! Give no mercy, for you shall receive none! Today is the day where you take back what is yours! Take back what the shadow has taken! Shine a light so bright that it makes the stars and sun pale!"

I nodded to Aranarth and we both drew swords and he beckoned the horn blowers. Into the day rang horns of power, strength and fairness. The notes were high, soft, but yet powerful, a dichotomy that I still have not figured out to this day.

"You have heard the words of Harold the Black! Take them to heart my brothers! For now we will go and claim what is ours! CHARGE!" screamed Aranarth.

I screamed with them in unison as the army of Arnor responded. The host as one moved trotted forwards slowly, but gained speed constantly until the thunder of hooves could be heard miles away. I was in the front rank and I recalled that day as the most exhilarating and humbling experiences of my life. Five thousand men on horses, all shouting, as they charged for the city, to defend their homeland, it moved me to tears.

The assault had a strategic surprise on its side. The orcs that saw us in rank and file were hurriedly ordered to respond and mount a defence of the city. But it was too late. All they succeeded in achieving was to make it easier for the riders to slaughter them as they spilled out of the city to meet us.

The battle was a blur to me. My sword, Orthorum, swung, slashed and hewed any orc that would dare try to attack me. I had long lost count of the number of orcs that I killed in the cacophony of battle just outside the city..

The part of the battle that I do remember in every detail was when the Witch-king of Angmar; Nazgul, Sorcerer of Old, spear of despair in the hand of Sauron, was pressed to come forth at last.

I hewed the head off an orc, when the foes ahead of me suddenly quailed and scattered like leaves in a breeze. Most of the men battling around me assumed that was a good thing. But I could sense what they could not. And when they finally saw their true foe they were hard pressed to keep fighting and not flee, but I bent my power to their hearts to keep courage in their hearts and they fought on. The Witch-King himself was hooded and cloaked in black tattered robes that blew ethereally around him. In one armoured hand was a cruel long blade while his other flexed powerfully. His black mount was a rather impressive horse, had it not been tamed by dark powers it would have made for a beautiful stallion.

"We meet again, Harold the Black," said the awful voice that sounded like fingernails against a chalkboard, and made everyone cringe at the awful sound.

"Yes, it's been a long time, Witch-King, grown stronger you have," I sneered.

"It is useless to try and fight me, I can not be killed by the hand of man," said the Nazgul.

"Yes, I heard about that," I replied, "but the funny thing about prophecies is Witch-King, that they are so open ended, and subject to interpretation, using one as a shield can be very dangerous. But who says I want to kill you?"

That was all the conversation I tolerated. I raised my staff and struck.

"Expecto Patronum!" I incanted, and from my staff shot white ethereal shockwaves, that radiated outward in a huge light. They hit the Witch-King and he was unsaddled and flung into the air, his blade scattering to the ground where it disintegrated. A moment later the form of Prongs shot forth in a huge light that blinded all around me. Prongs continued to radiate the white shockwaves as the Witch-King was battered with wave after wave, the Nazgul's robes were destroyed and everything that gave him a physical presence and power was lost.

The Witch King was now but a formless wraith and flew off into the direction of the Ettenmoor mountains. Prongs walked forward slowly to move towards me and bowed low and disappeared, and the light receded.

The orcs saw that their Captain was defeated and flung their weapons away in fear of the Arnor and scattered and fled. The attack turned into a rout, and even those orcs who had sought shelter in the city were killed as the Men of Arnor swept through.

At the end of a long day of fighting I guided my horse through the battlefield with Aranarth. We surveyed the dead. It could never be said that this victory was achieved without cost. For every six orcs, a man had been slain.

"The carrion fowl will be busy tomorrow," said Aranarth.

"Sometimes I wonder if war is all worth it," I commented, "if all the lives lost have some meaning to it, but then I think of the price of submission, and that is far worse than death."