Banished

Harry Potter groaned in pain. He had fallen out of time and space. He had passed through fire and light, and stars, where a single day stretched into the infinity of countless lifetimes. Many things he had endured, things he understood, things he did not. He knew that life had left him at some point, but how he was alive and thinking now was a mystery to him. He could think, he had a soul, a mind and a body; if he were dead he would be devoid of the latter two.

He cast his mind back to his last memory he had, of the final battle of the war, where it came down to a single duel. In and amongst his battling kin, he and Voldemort fought and fought in the shadows of the Little Hangleton Cemetery. In the exact same place the dark wizard had renewed himself to return to the world in full power, to inflict his terror and his will to dominate all that was good and fair.

It was only fitting for Fate to have the dark wizard fall there. Harry remembered when he had cast the final spell to smite Voldemort. In the chaos of battle Harry had managed to breach the dark wizard's defenses and he lay weakened on the ground and in pain.

"You cannot kill me boy!" he screamed. Harry did not answer and continued to advance on the prostrate form of the dark wizard. "I will merely be disembodied again and will return with numbers a hundred fold and power to dwarf your feeble imagination!"

Harry looked to the wizard with pity. Voldemort was so far from the sixteen year old Tom Riddle that Harry had once met in a magical diary. Harry's conscience would have let the dark wizard live, so that he could live the daily torment of his pitiful defeat at the hands of a mere seventeen-year-old teenager. But Fate had spoken and prophecy had spoken, none can live while the other survives.

"Sorry Tom," Harry's green eyes glowed with power, "this is where you must meet your greatest fear."

Harry raised his wand and tapped into his heart, his love for Luna being the greatest, for Hermione as a sister, for Ron as a best friend, for Dumbledore as a mentor, for Sirius...and for his parents. A great power, brighter, purer and more terrible than all the stars in the Universe pored forth from his wand in a huge blaze and struck Voldemort. The scream that issued forth from the dark wizard was deafening. The Cruciatus was a pinprick compared to this.

All the Order, his kin and the Death Eaters stopped their battles and looked on in wonder and fear. It seemed as if all the Earth had held its breath for the moments that the power beyond description, smote Voldemort in his entirety, his dark spirit left into oblivion, his body destroyed and smoking.

All but Harry heard the last words of the dark wizard.

"For this I banish you boy, you will be devoid of fulfilling the love with which you kill me. I banish you to a realm being flooded in darkness, where the Light is in retreat, where the darkness there will have my revenge!"

Harry looked in fear after the blackened ash corpse of Voldemort was revealed. He stared at Luna in despair, as he felt the last vestiges of magic from the dark wizard pull his ties to this reality apart. He was glowing with an ethereal light and pain overtook him. She cried out, running to save him from whatever was happening.

The tall form of Dumbledore impeded her path and stopped her.

"No, you cannot save him! Where he is going he can still live and have hope of return, if you follow you will die!"

Luna barely could comprehend what the aged wizard was telling and she screamed in despair: "Harry!!"

Harry's form was enveloped in light and then he was gone.

*

Harry opened his eyes to an endless blue sky and the occasional bird chirping and wisps of a cloud passing overhead. With effort he got to his feet and brushed the bristles off his purple and white wizard robes and black cloak. For some reason his wand felt quite heavy where it was still clasped in his right hand. The astonishing answer to this strange feeling was revealed when he looked to his hand. In it he held a staff, which was almost as tall as he was. It was straight and true and looked for all the world like his normal wand merely lengthened and thickened, except that at the top was now an ornate representation of a Phoenix carved out of the top.

He turned his amazed eyes to his surroundings and found rolling green rocky countryside with wild grass as far as the eye can see and distant mountains. To his left a large mountain range was very close, by about thirty miles as the bird flies. It was snow capped and looked like pictures he had seen of the Swedish Alps.

It was all too much for Harry. He had done as Fate asked and now he was alone in a strange realm with but the clothes on his back and his staff. He sank to his knees and cried out in pain as his heart longed for his kin and especially for Luna. Would he ever see her beautiful surprised eyes again? Hold her close to his chest. Would he ever hear her singsong honey voice call his name contentedly? Tears dropped from his cheeks as he cried and cried. Yet in the void of his heart filled the resolve, determination and anger that he would conquer this challenge. He had faced and defeated and killed the darkest wizard of his realm and all his minions more times than he could count, he would be damned if he ever gave up. He would find home, he would see Luna again.

Burying his grief for the moment, Harry leaned on his staff to stand upright again. His mind wondered in puzzlement as to how it would function in comparison to his wand. With a pained smile he remembered the first spell he had ever learned in Professor Flitwick's class. As he remembered the words to the basic levitation spell, he got the surprise of his life when a nearby stone that his staff was generally pointing at rose into the air a few feet.

Magic felt different here too, it felt older, and held more power over the physical world.

Harry released the stone, merely thinking about 'Finite Incantatum' in his mind's voice.

He gazed at the sun and judged the close mountain range to be to his west, the open expanses to his east and north. He knew there must be some sort of intelligent life in this realm, because his keen eyes picked up a well-worn path just a mile to the west. So he decided to head north, following the road and the mountain range as it fell into the distance.

Harry supposed he could Apparate, but he knew no destination to Apparate to. His feeling too was that the magic in this realm did not support this art too well. So he walked and walked, the mountains to his vision hardly moving by at his low foot speed.

The wind rustled his robes as he trod on to his unknown destination. After four hours of walking the sun showed it to be high noon and sweat glistened on Harry's forehead. He ran his hand through his shoulder length black hair, combing it neater and out of his face.

He felt extremely grateful for the wind, as it cooled him to comfort once again.

Hunger pulled him to rest and he sat down on a small hill overlooking the plains, the road still ran on his left to the north. Harry sighed as he waved his staff at a soft patch of grass and conjured a blanket and a plate of hot food and water for himself. Slowly he started to eat his meal, Harry was never one to devour his food in apparent greed like Ron. He liked to stretch his meal and savor the taste, instead of just stuffing himself.

Harry remembered fondly of his two best friends. He did not know their fate in the final battle, they were separated in the cacophony of the spell war when he and Voldemort finally met and dueled. Hermione had told him that Ron had asked her to marry the day before they left to confront Voldemort. His heart had rejoiced and he hoped they could salve their grief enough to bind together and live on in happiness.

That was all Harry wanted for his friends, they had to be happy and content, and be loved.

His meal was finished and he banished the blanket and the empty plate. He looked north and walked on.

*

Harry rose from his restless sleep where his heart had called to Luna. He dreamed of them walking hand in hand in the lush grounds of Hogwarts, their hearts content and fulfilled. He dreamed of her touch, her kiss, the feel and sight of her face, and it gave him hope.

Harry cancelled the disillusionment spell on himself and he became visible to the eyes of the world again. With a grin he conjured a hamburger to appear in his hand and he ate breakfast and walked on. It was mid-morning.

It was then that he heard something; it was something that was unmistakably the beating of approaching hooves of a horse. He turned to look behind him and found the horse had indeed a rider. From what Harry's eyes could see it was thick man, wearing armor and mail, carrying a spear in one arm and with a sword sheathed at his hip. Long blonde hair spilled out of a helm the man was wearing. The horse itself was a chestnut mare and its coat gleamed in the sunlight.

Harry walked on for the moment ignoring the rider. The rider was about three meters away when he cried out: "Halt! Who walks in the Mark?"

The rider slowed to a trot next to Harry, his spear raised, ready to throw.

"I am but a lost traveler, horse warrior. Put away your spear, I don't wish to harm you nor your realm," answered Harry wearily.

"You do not have leave to travel in the Mark, speak you name quickly, so my King can judge whether you are friend or foe," instructed the horseman.

"Tell me yours first, horseman, for I seek but to go home, and I have no ill wishes to any, save those who support the Darkness," retorted Harry, who stopped walking and faced the warrior. He stood his staff next to him. The warrior blanched at Harry.

"You are a wizard," stated the horseman in awe, his spear wavered.

"Yes I am, horse warrior. But please tell me your name, so I may give mine?" asked Harry patiently.

"Hama my name is, scout rider of King Theoden of Rohan," stated the man in a quivering voice. Harry did not think his name from Earth would exactly fit here so he gave the medieval version of it.

"I am Harold. Tell me Hama, the King obviously travels behind you, where are you going?" asked Harry in puzzlement.

"The King and all his people are fleeing to the fortification of Helm's Deep. Where we hope to weather the treachery and war of the wizard Saruman and his orcs," stated Hama.

Harry sighed and shook his head, another corrupted dark wizard. Voldemort had banished him here in the hope that another dark wizard would pick him off. Harry thought it would be fun to see Voldemort's face when Harry conquers his folly hope.

"I suppose I could help you," murmured Harry, "take me to your King."

"Very well, Harold, get behind me on my horse Rondel, and I shall bear you swiftly to him," stated Hama.

Harry approached the horse and accepted a hand from Hama to help him up. Rondel puffed and neighed proudly and launched forward to the south. It took barely three minutes to cover the two leagues that separated the scout from his host.

Harry could now see two riders heading up a large column of weary and battered looking people, carrying meager possessions with them and packs filled with food as such. There were a large number of armed riders flanking the column. He noted the column was filled with women and children and old men. They looked too much like the refugees from the countless wars on Earth, fleeing battle and certain death.

Hama bore him to the center of the line of people, where a great concentration of riders was. The King was clad in elegant red clothes and a green cloak with a great sword sheathed on his hip. He had yellow blonde hair with an aged but proud and noble face; his manner was all that Harry expected of a King, a good leader. Harry knew it by just looking at him, for he knew that heavy mantle of leadership intimately and he hoped to think that history would judge him worthy of it.

Behind the King was another man of Lordly status, with the same noble bearing, but his raiment was more of a lone Ranger as such.

"Hail Theoden! I bring a visitor I encountered on the road ahead; he seeks to speak to you," stated Hama.

Harry dismounted awkwardly and his back hurt from the brief ride, he leaned on his staff and stretched out his muscles.

"I have not been on a horse in two years," grumbled Harry to himself. He stood upright again and saw that Theoden regarded him with keen interest, while the Ranger behind him looked puzzled and frowning.

"Hail Theoden King. I am Harold and you may call me the Lost Wizard, for that is exactly what I am," Harry chuckled to himself, "I seek to go home to my own realm, for wherever this Earth is, it is not my home."

"Well met Harold the Lost. Before we speak further, I ask you to look me in the eye and tell me you mean no harm to me or my people," instructed the King.

"Hama has told me of Saruman in brief, and it angers me that one my kin have fallen into evil, but rest assured King Theoden. I am the enemy of all that is dark in all realms. And I would fight as much for your people as for my own back home," stated Harry solemnly.

"Harold the Lost, I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn," greeted the Ranger, "How can you be a wizard and be so young to my eyes? I know the Highest Wizard of this realm personally, and some others, they are all old and live three-hundred lives of men and still go on." Aragorn looked amazed at what he was seeing in Harry.

"Stay Lord Aragorn, let me answer him first, time is precious," remonstrated Theoden, "Harold, I judge you as sincere and truthful. If you offer your crafts in our aid then I would gladly accept it and allow you to accompany us to Helm's Deep. But we cannot linger."

Harry wondered if he should go with them and help, if it could help him eventually meet the Highest Wizard then it should be worth it. But he also saw a people in need here and if his wizardry could make a difference in the days ahead and save lives, who was he to refuse.

"I will accompany you King Theoden and offer my aid," Harry bowed his head to the King. Theoden nodded and sped his horse up slightly to catch up with his guard.

Harry chose to walk next to Aragorn and now he noticed that directly following Aragorn on horseback was a stout dwarf clad in fine armor and mail. Leading this horse was a beautiful woman with long golden hair and a fair face, she and the dwarf were chatting amiably and laughing. On a white steed trotting slowly in front of the dwarf was a sight that Harry had never seen before in his life, save for in ancient lore and legends contained in the Hogwarts library. A high-elf with pointed ears and lean muscular build and sapphire blue eyes was surveying Harry with curiosity, and a slight reverence and respect.

"My God, a high-elf," stated Harry in awe. Aragorn looked confused at Harry's reaction but introduced them anyway.

"That is Legolas Greenleaf of the Woodland Realm, are there no elves where you come from Harold?" asked Aragorn curiously.

"Greetings to you Harold the Lost, I hope your coming will shine a ray of light to these dark times," stated Legolas. Harry nodded to the elf.

"Greetings Legolas, its an honor to meet you. In my realm there are no elves of your stature, the elves there are diminished to where they are shorter than the level of my knee, and they live for only the third of wizards lifetime. I have only seen your kind Legolas in books of legend so ancient; the very paper on which it is written is withering," explained Harry.

"Indeed, it's a sad world yours must be for the elves to be diminished so," opinioned Aragorn.

"So you wonder of my age Lord Aragorn?" smiled Harry.

"I can see your body is young, Harold. But you have lived many lifetimes in your eyes," stated Aragorn.

"And there you answer yourself Aragorn," grinned Harry, "please tell me of the Highest Wizard. He may be able to aid me in my quest to get home."

"An interesting meeting that would be," came a gruff voice. It belonged to the mounted dwarf. "I am Gimli, son of Gloin, Harold the Lost. And it would be interesting for you and Gandalf to meet."

"Well met Gimli," Harry nodded to the dwarf.

"I agree Gimli," stated Aragorn with a smile, "Gandalf the White is the Highest Wizard of this Middle-Earth. He is leader of all wizards here. Strange..."

"What is strange?" asked Harry.

"A wizard usually denotes himself with a color in his clothing. Gandalf is in robes of purest white, you however, have strange patterns of black, purple and white, is there some significance to this?"

"Lord Aragorn, in my world what wizards wear does not denote their persuasion or allegiance, but merely their personal taste in dress. I am known there as Harold the Potterer, here I would prefer Harold the Lost," answered Harry curtly.

"Where is Gandalf?"

"At the moment he is speeding north on Shadowfax far to the east of us, trying to rally Eomer the King's nephew and his men, for they are a great host of over four thousand cavalry. We look to their coming in very soon at Helm's Deep," explained Aragorn.

"Four thousand cavalry," exclaimed Harry, "that's impressive, will they arrive in time?"

"We can but hope," stated Legolas solemnly.

"What is Gandalf's temperament, will he help me?" asked Harry uncertainly.

"Most certainly he will do what he can Harold, when he has the time. But we are all in the middle of a war here, to fight for the freedom of all peoples of Middle-Earth from the dominion of Sauron," answered Aragorn earnestly.

"Pardon Lord Aragorn, but remember I am a stranger to this realm, who is Sauron?" Harry felt decidedly stupid, but the reaction to that name from most around him was to flinch and look to who said the name.

"The full tale, Gandalf will no doubt relate to you Harold. But Sauron is something of a wizard but he uses only pure evil as a force in all his doings. Sauron, is the darkest most evil and powerful being in this Middle-Earth, Saruman is merely his puppet," answered Aragorn. Harry knew there was catch to this all; this Sauron seemed to be the Voldemort of this realm.

At this point Legolas sped his steed up to trot alongside Harry, the elf had the light of curiosity in his eyes. And it was also such that Harry found himself immensely curious of Legolas for some reason.

"Harold, I ask you to please tell me some more of your worlds elves?" the elf had a strange expression in his face, one that Harry had seen on most other wizards when he was in their presence, respect, awe, and curiosity. Harry sighed and decided to indulge the elf.

"Very well, Legolas. I already told you that the elves are diminished in physical appearance, small, scrawny, large eyes and pointed ears. But in other ways they are stronger, they are innately magical and if angered and threatened enough they are quite powerful, I would be hard pressed to subdue one magically," explained Harry.

"Fascinating, we elves have no active magic as a rule, but we can bless many things with our virtue," replied Legolas.

"It could be argued Legolas, that your immortality is your magic. But you will be less impressed when I tell you the role elves have in my realm," Harry's eyes darkened and he stared fixedly ahead of him, "they promote and prostrate themselves as the domestic servants of wizards, it's to the point where it can be called slavery, but that depends on whether the wizard the elf serves is dark or light."

Legolas's eyes clouded in confusion and anger, he frowned at Harry: "Truly not!"

"Unfortunately its so, many wizards and witches in my realm discourage them, but the servile mindset has been ingrained for centuries into them, it's a legacy of dark times in my realm. I myself have two freed elves that have willingly bound to me, but they receive payment for their services in my home. It took me two years of struggle to get them to accept even that," explained Harry with sadness and a fair amount of loathing for wizarding society back home.

"Here in Middle-Earth, wizards have often endured great strife with the elves, for that they are greatly respected and revered," stated Legolas.

"Indeed, well I hope your impression of me is not lessened Legolas by the telling of the plight of elves in my realm," stated Harry thoroughly worried he had offended. The elf shook his head.

"I do not form opinions on anything based on first impressions Harold the Lost. But I see many things about you, your eyes hold sadness and the experience of an old soul, leadership drags on your shoulders like a cloak, and your heart bleeds at a forced parting from your loved ones." Harry's eyes widened at how close the elf was to the mark.

"Truly high-elves have the gift of pure Insight I see," stated Harry wearily, was he wearing his heart on his sleeve.

The day wearily passed on as Harry got acquainted with Gimli and Eowyn, Eomer's sister. He instantly took a liking to the dwarf, who had a very good sense of humor and a good heart; Harry was painfully reminded of Hagrid. He saw the same type of goodness and loyalty in Gimli that Hagrid showed constantly.

Eowyn was a lady, who was both beautiful and gentle, but Harry knew such women well, at the flick of the switch she could probably become an angered Veela, deadly, ruthless and terrible to behold. Harry could see strength in her; it was if she had the strength and purpose of a man trapped in her feminine body.

She was very interested to hear of witches.

"Women, with the power of magic," she said incredulously and in awe, "that is something I would like to see."

"Yes, my lady, in my realm they are more numerous than wizards are," explained Harry, staring fixedly ahead. Thinking of witches in general was a mistake, for it made him think of Luna, and instantly his heart wrenched in longing and need for her. It was so overwhelming; thanks to Harry's unique power, that tears sprang to his eyes and flowed down his face. Eowyn blanched and looked horribly guilty.

"I apologize Harold, if I have offended..." Harry interrupted her with a gesture of his hand.

"No Lady," he sniffed, "I was banished to this realm as a last act of vengeance by a dark wizard before I smote him, and he killed my parents when I was still a babe. Before I and my kin left to confront him, I asked my beloved Luna to bind to me, and we did, so please pardon my tears."

"Your tears are then justified Harold, do not ask for pardon," she stated in sympathy, "I myself think men are too guarded in their emotions."

"In relationships it's a curse yes, but in the wide world it's a blessing and a need," sighed Harry.

At this Gimli piped up: "It's true you don't see many dwarf women," he murmured thoughtfully.

"Now that you mention it Gimli, you're right, in the lore I know I have never heard mention of it," explained Harry, wiping his tears off with his sleeve and trying to smile.

"The reason for that is Harold the Lost, that we are so alike in appearance, that they are often mistaken for dwarven men," the dwarf intoned. Harry and Eowyn looked to Aragorn in mirth and curiosity as to whether this was true. Aragorn smiled and gestured with his right hand to his own jaw and chin and mouthed the words: "It's the beards."

"This has given rise to the belief that there are no dwarf women," Gimli continued earnestly, having missed the byplay, "and that dwarves just pop out of holes in the ground."

At this Eowyn and Harry burst out in laughter, it amazed him how he could go from heartbroken to happy and laughing in mere moments. The laughter startled the horse Gimli was awkwardly riding and it launched forward in a gallop. Gimli lasted three meters and fell out of the saddle.

"Arrggh, I hate riding," he growled viciously. Now even Aragorn and Legolas broke into merry laughter as the dwarf got his feet and picked up his axe. The horse came back with almost a grin on its face as it neighed in apparent amusement at the dwarf's feeble horsemanship.

"The same to you to!" roared Gimli at the horse. Eowyn gathered the horse's reigns and started leading it again.

Night settled and the column of refugees from the City of Edoras, as Harry learned later, pitched makeshift camp near a small lake, where they refilled water bottles and sat down to eat pre-prepared food, since they kept a cold camp for reasons of security. Harry settled down with Aragorn at his bedspread and asked him for more information on Saruman. The Ranger told Harry all he knew, though Harry sensed Aragorn was holding a key element back from his tale. Why Saruman turned to evil for one thing?

Harry heard how Saruman had poisoned the mind of the King, with the help of a traitor in the Rohan court, Grima Wormtongue, until Gandalf showed up and released the King from the prison of his own body. It sounded a lot like the Imperius Curse.

"What happened to Wormtongue afterwards?" asked Harry seriously.

"The King was about to kill him, but I stopped Theoden. I reasoned that enough blood was spilled on Wormtongue's account. He most likely has fled to Isengard." Aragorn lit a pipe and began thoughtfully puffing on it.

"If Wormtongue was an advisor to the King, Aragorn, he could cause much damage," stated Harry worriedly, remembering all the evil that another escaped rat and traitor had caused.

Aragorn looked at Harry in askance.

"There is little that Saruman does not know of Rohan," opinioned Aragorn, "Wormtongue's use was merely to forestall the King from ordering Rohan to war against Saruman."

"No Aragorn, if Wormtongue was a close advisor to the King for many years then he has information that could prove very perilous, its of little value in the grand scheme of things but, Wormtongue will know how the King thinks," Harry stated darkly. Aragorn raised his eyebrows to invite further elaboration. "Once the King was freed, and he made fully aware of the situation, what would he do next? Wormtongue could give that answer to Saruman."

Aragorn's eyes widened and his teeth clenched on his pipe, his mind having reached an answer.

"Of course, by Earendil's star, yes. Wormtongue would know the King would not stay at Edoras; it's impossible to defend. Also the fact the King would be grief stricken by loss of his son and many others while he sat idly, therefore not risk open war and more lives...Saruman knows the King will fortify in Helm's Deep."

"How will Saruman respond? That's easy, strike at the head before it places a helm on itself," opinioned Harry. Aragorn let out an awed breath.

"The King is taking the most direct route to Helm's Deep from Edoras, we have women and children here, our speed is low. Saruman will strike at us."

"What does Saruman have that will reach us from Isengard in time?" asked Harry. Aragorn fished out his map of Middle-Earth and looked at it, Harry peeked interestedly at it.

"We are here," Aragorn pointed to thirty miles from Helm's Deep on the road from Edoras, "Isengard is about hundred and twenty miles from the Deep." Aragorn spent a minute or two in silent thought. "Orcs mounted on Wargs or Wolves could reach us before we get to safety."

"Could you speak to the King about it Aragorn? I am but a lost stranger to him."

"You are a wizard, Harold. That fact alone makes you more worthy of opinion than I," disagreed Aragorn. Silence fell and the Ranger fidgeted a bit and glanced awkwardly at Harry. "Can I ask a personal question Harold?"

"You can ask a question of that nature, but I may decide not to answer," grinned Harry. It did little to ease the Ranger, it seemed that he was little intimidated by Harry or maybe wizards in general.

"I heard you speaking to Lady Eowyn. That you are betrothed and were separated in strife, do you have hope to see your beloved again?" asked Aragorn. Harry felt the man's desperateness in the question, it seemed Aragorn was in a similar boat as Harry. The Boy-Who-Lived cast his eyes down and fought to keep tears from them.

"Hope is all I have, Aragorn, that Luna and I will be reunited. I know she is hurting as much as I right now."

"I wish I could have hope," Aragorn sighed and fingered a beautiful pearl pendant around his neck.

"Where is the woman who gave you that jewel? I take it she is the one," Harry asked with sympathy. Aragorn nodded.

"She is on her way to the Grey Havens, with the rest of her kind and from there she will sail to the Undying lands over the sea to the West," Aragorn explained with grief laden in his heart.

"Why would she do that? If she obviously returns your feelings," frowned Harry.

"She is an elf, her name is Arwen Undomiel, and daughter to Elrond Halfelven, the oldest elf in Middle-Earth and one of the three main leaders of all elves. Their time of prominence is passing and all are leaving to the West, forsaking Middle-Earth as they feel that the evil here is too great. The sea beckons to them. And I let her go, how could I deny her the rightful passage of their people, how could I want her to cast her immortality aside for me?"

Harry shook his head in exasperation.

"Aragorn, you have been a bit low in thought," frowned Harold.

"What?" exclaimed Aragorn, outraged.

"Where I come from I am unique among wizards, for I possess a power that is at once more wonderful and more terrible than death, than intelligence, than the forces of nature, it's also the most mysterious of powers. I myself can barely understand it. I can channel the power of my heart. The point is Aragorn, if you both truly love one another, then Elrond be damned, then whatever Age is passing be damned, then the fact that the elves are a bunch of chickens for running away be damned, then the fact that she is an elf be damned, the fact that she will give up her immortality be damned, you both will be reunited and your hearts will be fulfilled," insisted Harry.

"No matter what?" the Ranger asked incredulously.

"If Sauron was to stand in between you and Arwen, he would be smitten dead and cast aside, dark Lord or not," insisted Harry. Aragorn let out a low shaky breath.

"You do my heart good, Harold the Lost. For that I thank you," stated Aragorn.

"Good night, Aragorn, I shall have hope that you and Arwen will reunite." Harry nodded to Aragorn who sat back, puffing on his pipe, deep in thought. Harry walked to the King's tent and met Hama again, who conveyed Harry's request for an audience. Theoden himself came out and invited Harry in and offered some refreshment, which the wizard gladly accepted.

Harry roughly spelled out his concerns and conclusions about Wormtongue and the fact that he was certain an attack on the refugee column was a certainty. Theoden lips became thin as a stern Professor McGonagall.

"It is as much as I had feared and deduced," stated the King.

"King Theoden, is there anything that Wormtongue could tell Saruman that the wizard does not already generally know?" asked Harry.

"Even if there was such information, what makes you think Grima has not already told him anyway?" asked Theoden in turn.

"A traitor never fully betrays, in fear that the side he has left will be victorious. He will also not reveal everything because he is still considered an enemy by the side he helps, and as such keeps information back to not make himself expendable," explained Harry solemnly, "Wormtongue has been revealed for what he is, he will only get death from Rohan, so now he will spill all he knows to Isengard and claim sanctuary there."

Theoden looked at Harry strangely.

"You sound as if you speak from experience Harold the Lost," intoned Theoden.

"Someone like Wormtongue, in my realm, was responsible for betraying my parents to their deaths at the hands of a Dark Lord like Sauron, for wrongfully accusing my godfather of his own faked death and spending thirteen years in prison, and for resurrecting the same Dark Lord after he was disembodied for fourteen years, I can go on King Theoden," explained Harry with fire in his eyes.

"So you say I must approach the situation as if I am an open book before Saruman?" asked Theoden gravely.

"If Wormtongue has been as long in your council as I have gathered then, yes. Anything, from your way of thinking to military secrets and such is known to Saruman," answered Harry. Theoden sat down heavily and sighed.

"Thank you, Harold the Lost for your council. I shall give thought to it."

Harry stood and bowed to the King and left the tent and walked over to where he had been given a bedspread. Which was incidentally next to where Gimli and Legolas were, Aragorn was about a few feet away. Gimli was on his side and snoring loudly, vaguely reminiscent of Uncle Vernon's nocturnal rumblings. Legolas was sitting gazing at the stars overhead, his eyes seemed glazed over and his mind elsewhere. Harry was feeling quite tired himself and pointed his staff at the uncomfortable bedspread, transfiguring it into a cozy duvet and matching pillow, he also threw in a powerful hex should anyone think of trying to snatch something from him in the night.

Harry climbed in under the duvet and wrapped it around himself, with his wizards' staff securely in his grip, as he rested his head on the pillow he caught Legolas' eye.

"Good night Legolas," murmured Harry and the elf nodded and resumed his stargazing.

*

Harry woke up just before dawn, very surprised, he had not a single dream during the night and his mind was blissfully fresh and revived. Gimli came ambling over bringing some food for them, which Harry accepted gratefully. After eating Harry got up and cancelled the transfiguration and hex on the bedspread and noticed that no one had been stupid enough to touch him during the night. Gimli blinked and wiped his eyes.

"For a moment I wondered where you got those coverings Harold, they looked like the finest weavings of the elves, was it all an illusion?" asked the dwarf.

"No, I simply transformed it from one to another." Harry waved his staff again and the duvet was back. Gimli eagerly went to examine it and feel it. Legolas looked deeply impressed.

"How long will the spells last?" Gimli asked.

"Since I merely changed it from something that it closely resembles in form and function, it should last as long as I am alive. If I were to conjure a sword from it, well, that would last hardly a couple of minutes and take more effort to accomplish," explained Harry.

An hour was spent as everyone gathered what little they had and the riders organized in formation along the line of refugees and the scouts went ahead. Aragorn suggested to Legolas that he head to the front of the column, with the extreme farsight that elves possessed it would be a benefit to have him up front. Harry volunteered to go upfront as well, as any attack would be spotted first from there.

So the refugees from Edoras restarted on their trek to Helm's Deep, Aragorn estimated that at the current rate of speed they would reach the fortress just before mid day. Legolas and Harry walked at the front, next to two riders; their names were Hamand and Erofel. Harry spent a great while questioning them on life in Middle-Earth and Rohan, about the comings and goings, how the races related with one another. Harry also learned that there was another Kingdom of Men called Gondor further to the east, which served as the main shield of the West against the ravages of Mordor.

Erofel also mentioned that scouts had bore news that the fighting was renewed there, and that Osgiliath, the second largest city of Gondor, was under attack by Sauron's forces. The tide of battle was not going in Gondor's favor. When it was lunchtime the column did not stop, but ate as they went, with Helm's Deep very close, it would not do to dwindle idly.

"I have thought long of what you said Harold," came Legolas's voice from Harry's left. After they had shared his rations of elf-bread or lemdas.

"Oh?"

"The elves in your realm, are they...content?" asked Legolas earnestly.

"Those that reside with light wizards are very happy to do such tasks, Legolas. In fact it gets to the point where the elf is as much a part of the wizard's family as the children. The two elves that serve me are as much my friends as my allies; I don't dare think what would have happened in the wizard war in my realm if they had not been there," stated Harry fervently. Remembering how Dobby and Winky had saved the Order with their prompt message bearing countless times.

"I just want to say I hold no anger to you for the situation, my reaction yesterday was one based without knowledge. I cannot judge you nor where you come from," came the apologetic Legolas.

"Don't worry about it, Legolas. One of my best friends, a Witch named Hermione, would absolutely love to talk to you, she is so vehemently opposed to the position elves have in wizard society, and does everything she can to help elves, especially those in the employ of dark wizards. Not to mention she will die of envy at all I am learning here," Harry chuckled, "I can imagine her face when I tell her I have met a high-elf."

"She treasures learning I take it?" asked Legolas with a hint of a smile.

"Treasures? No Legolas, learning is the keystone of her sheer existence. Her knowledge is far more vast than mine," stated Harry with a smile, his eyes remembering her fondly.

Legolas started to smile but frowned suddenly as he strained his ears. His eyes grew intense and searching. The elf's alarmed posture now sent Harry glancing north and listening intently. Legolas took his bow and loaded an elegant arrow, and with a sprint ran ahead.

"Maintain formation," advised Harry to Erofel when he saw the rider itching to follow the elf. Harry sped after Legolas, who had disappeared over a blind ridge that was ahead of the column. When Harry reached the elf, he found Legolas had already loosed two arrows to kill something that looked like a wolf on steroids, with an orc on its back. Hama was racing back to the column to warn them of the impending attack, for it was obvious that the warg rider was just a scout for the main force.

Harry noticed with sadness a dead rider lying there, his horse standing almost sorrowfully over the body. In the distance, about three hundred meters away was another ridge and Legolas looked intently in that direction. Harry imbued magic in his voice and whistled to the aimless horse. It whinnied and neighed for a moment and then sped towards them.

The horse approached Harry and he patted its great black flanks.

"You grieve for your Master, I know. But need is great and I must ask if you will consent to bear me," murmured Harry. He did not know how he was doing it, but it suddenly occurred to him that he could use magic to communicate with the horse. In answer the horse turned around and presented its side for Harry to mount.

"Thank you." Harry put his left foot in the spur and swung his right leg over the great horse. He patted the black furred neck of the animal affectionately.

"The enemy approaches," stated Legolas gravely.

At the crest of the next ridge, Harry could see mounted wargs riding over it; it looked to be at least three score of the beasts. Legolas's bow twanged as he sent an arrow at the closest warg, it impaled into its chest and it keeled over, crushing its orc rider beneath it.

Harry picked a warg and pointed his staff. He decided to call the incantation aloud, it felt much more satisfying and powerful.

"Ignis Globus!" An intense fireball of about the size of a soccerball burst from the tip of his staff and sped towards the warg like a bullet. It impacted on the head of the beast and exploded, shrouding the entire thing in flames. Legolas let loose another arrow and hit an orc rider, flinging it from its mount. The warg kept coming though.

"Avada Kedavra!" Green light poured from Harry's staff and hit the warg, the speeding rush of death followed.

Harry could now hear a mass of galloping hooves coming behind him. All the Riders of Rohan, ninety strong, which had accompanied the refugee column, was charging up behind them, to meet the threat. All had spears ready, others had swords out in front of them pointing at their enemies and shouting in anger and contempt. Harry noticed Aragorn and Theoden himself in the charging mass of riders that was now rushing past them.

Legolas had done an impressive mounting maneuver of one of the speeding horses that Aragorn had brought for the elf. It was a true Gryffindor that encouraged his horse to surge forward and into the front line of advancing Rohan cavalry. Exultation and bravery coursed through his heart as Harry found himself next to Aragorn. The advancing wargs were closing fast and first contact with the enemy was going to be painful and deadly.

Harry raised his staff and with all his strength shouted a curse he hoped would work with this ad-hoc modification he had in mind.

"Impedimenta Maximus!" he cried slashing with his staff across the rapidly advancing front line of wargs. The effect was amazing and startling to say the least. A huge shockwave of magic issued forth and toppled the front line of wargs and blasted them backward. The wave continued and stopped the rearward wargs dead in their tracks. The Riders of Rohan blasted through their ranks with all the momentum. Spears were flung, and they smote warg after warg. The sound of battle joined, as swords were drawn and steel clashed on steel.

Harry waded through the battle, pertifying battling orcs and wargs, so the riders could easily slaughter them. On one occasion a warg rider tried to bowl Harry over, and by all appearances would have succeed, bar for the fact that Harry had cast a passive banishment spell on himself. As the warg rider got to within a meter, it got the surprise of its short life when it was repelled from Harry like it had bounced against a trampoline.

The green light of the Killing Curse ended their role in the battle.

Harry turned his steed and noticed that Gimli was in trouble. The horse he had been on had flung him off and he battled on his own two feet. Somehow he had managed to get himself wedged under a dead warg, with a dead orc on top of that. Another warg was climbing over and eyeing the dwarf with malice. Harry charged for Gimli and let another Killing Curse disappear into the menacing warg, only to have it slump on top of the poor dwarf as well.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Both wargs and the orc lifted from the dwarf, who got up shakily, leaning on his axe. Harry flung the dead beasts over the nearby cliff.

"You all right Gimli?" exclaimed Harry as he stopped his mount next to the winded dwarf.

"Been better, Harold," the dwarf wheezed.

"Ignis Paries!" Harry raised his staff to two warg riders bearing down on them. Fire erupted from the earth below and consumed them in flame.

"A wizard of mighty stature you are Harold," exclaimed Gimli in awe. Harry did not comment but stabbed his staff toward another warg rider bearing down on a dismounted Rohan rider who was desperately loosing arrows at orcs. The warg screamed in fear as it rose high into the air, the mounted orc had already fallen from his saddle. Harry released the spell and with a sickening thud the warg fell to its death.

"Want a warg to kill Gimli?" asked Harry with a grin.

"Yesss!" roared the dwarf. Harry petrified a passing riderless warg and Gimli hewed it with his axe.

Just as suddenly the sound of battle was lost and a strange stillness descended, only disturbed by the occasional moan from a wounded rider. Harry surveyed the battle scene grimly. It could not be said that this small victory was achieved without cost. In one glance Harry could count nine dead Rohirrim, deepening his horror was the some of the dead horses, with gaping wounds and torn flesh, from where the wargs had bitten them.

Harry nudged his horse to walk forward, and Gimli followed. At one point the dwarf began to frown as if missing something.

"Aragorn!" the dwarf shouted. No answer came. Harry turned and scanned the scene of battle, looking for any sign of the noble Ranger. Legolas came running over after hearing Gimli's call. For ten minutes they looked around the fallen and sullen bodies of Orcs and Rohirrim, until they came near the edge of the cliff that a river had cut through the earth.

A gurgled, racking laugh sounded and Harry saw it belonged to a mortally wounded orc lying there.

"Guess who took a tumble off the cliff?" it cackled and started coughing blood. Legolas walked over to it and grabbed the orc by its collar.

"Where is he?" the elf demanded, with a disgusted sneer at the orc. The orc did not answer as it finally succumbed to its wounding and died. It was then that Legolas noticed something that was in the dead orc's grip. He unclasped the hand and Harry noticed it was the jewel that Arwen gave to Aragorn. Legolas grabbed the jewel and spoke reverently in Elvish, closing his eyes in seeming prayer.

Both Legolas and Gimli walked to the edge of the cliff and looked down. Theoden came over and did the same. Harry guided his horse closer but did not bother looking down.

The King reverently put a hand on the elf's shoulder and beckoned him to continue on with the people of Rohan. Legolas nodded and all three turned from the sight of the cliff, their grief great.

Harry did not want to mention it, but he did not believe Aragorn to be dead. It was a high drop, but the river was fairly deep. It also did not escape his notice that the laughing orc was wargless, meaning that Aragorn had to have gone over with an out of control warg. The tracks on the ground near the cliff confirmed this. Harry also remembered seeing Aragorn's mount Hasufel idly grazing the battlefield in their search, so he was forcibly dismounted. And in his battles ended up on a warg and unable to jump in time. The warg would take most of the fall. It was the only scenario Harry could derive from his Insight. It would all fall to chance whether Aragorn would survive and return to Helm's Deep. But Harry saw an opportunity to increase that chance.

Hasufel was standing riderless and idly, he sped over to the chestnut brown horse and imbued magic in his voice again and whispered to the horse.

"Aragorn may yet still live. Follow the river downstream and search for him and bear him swiftly to Helm's Deep. If he is dead, you may go to wherever your heart desires."

Hasufel neighed and galloped away.

Harry turned his mount towards the rally point where the remaining Rohirrim were gathering, of which there were sixty, while twelve were wounded and horseless. Legolas was there on his white horse Erond, and Gimli saddled behind him. A cloud of grief hung over the elf and the light of his eyes were for the moment diminished. In passing, Harry asked the horse that had carried him in battle of his name. The horse replied that he could not convey his true name in ways that Harry could understand, but the Men called him Haldad.

Harry saw that Theoden was there too.

"King Theoden, has your people gone on to Helm's Deep?"

"Yes, Eowyn is leading them in my stead. We were the diversion to keep the orcs away from the column," answered the King.

All the King's riders were mustered and they sped north at the fastest speed their horses could give them. Harry was just behind the King and he felt amazed at the actual speed these horses could gallop at. It was the closest thing one could get to ride a broom on land. The company crested a small hill and off in the distance not four miles away was Helm's Deep.

It was a great gash in the mountains, out of which a gorge opened in the hills. Before the mouth of the Deep there was a heel of rock thrust outward by the northern cliff. Upon its spur stood high walls of ancient stone, and within them was a lofty tower. Another wall had been made to the southern cliff as well, barring the entrance of the gorge. Beneath it by a wide gutter a stream passed through.

The Company was still in the low valley before the gate of Helm's Deep when hornblasts issued from the Deep and the men on the walls started sending arrows in storms behind the Company. Harry chanced a quick look in that direction and noticed that a group of wolf-riders had been hot on their heels since they had reach the valley before Helm's Deep. The arrow storm killed every single last one of them and another horn sounded.

To enter the keep of Helm's Deep one had ride up a narrow ramp where a great gate stood barring the way. The King approached up the ramp and cries of welcome and rejoice echoed from the Keep. The group of riders hurried up the ramp as fast as possible, as they did not want to invite an orc company easy entrance into the Deep.

Harry guided Haldad up the open stair of the Keep, avoiding the many people moving hither and thither. All sorts he could see, riders, soldiers, women, children playing sword with sticks, old men and women scurrying provisions into the fortress. Harry stopped his horse at the top entrance to the inner fortress and dismounted. He spoke softly to Haldad and told the horse to keep safe and that he looked forward to ride him again. The horse whinnied and was led away by a stable boy into the fortress, where Harry was told there were deep caves and all those who could not fight were taking shelter.

The king headed to the inner fortress as well, and Legolas and Gimli dismounted behind Harry. Running footsteps could be heard as he saw Eowyn speeding towards them.

"So few? So few have returned?" she asked desperately. Theoden stopped and took a while to answer, for he had seen the light in his adopted daughter's eyes whenever she gazed upon Aragorn.

"Our people are safe, at cost of many lives," the King turned and finally walked inside, not finding the heart to relay the news to his daughter.

"My lady," Gimli prompted, ever the stout heart.

"Where is Lord Aragorn?" she asked in an incredulous voice.

"He...he fell..." stammered the dwarf, struggling to keep his own tears in check. Harry could see that tears instantly sprang up in Eowyn's eyes and she turned desperately away and fled. It was strange though; to the normal observer one would believe that she truly loved Aragorn. But Harry was not sensing romantic, be-me-soulmate love. It was love, but she loved the Ranger for something that he embodied or represented or could achieve, it was impossible to understand.

Harry walked toward the observation platform on the highest point of the keep and gazed out over the valley approaching the Deep. He looked to his right in the protected area behind the wall and saw the entire place was festooned with tents and people. He surveyed the general condition of the walls and the keep. They were worn but still solid.

Harry chuckled to himself. A modern muggle army from his realm could destroy this place in an instant. He forced himself to look at it from a medieval military perspective. He really wished Hermione with her infinite genius were here now. For almost an hour he stood and looked upon the fortification and using what knowledge he knew, Insight and Foresight. It was then that he almost kicked himself for having missed it.

Saruman was playing his endgame here, and his hand would also be in this battle, to make sure it went his way. He might not personally show up, but his wizardry would definitely be a factor in this battle.

"You've been standing here for two hours Harold the Lost," stated Theoden, "are you giving thought to the battle to come?"

"Indeed, King Theoden," confirmed Harry, "has any aggressor ever successfully penetrated a fortification of this nature?"

"Not with sufficient men defending it," answered Theoden shortly.

"Will we have sufficient numbers?" asked Harry softly.

"No, even arming every lad able to bear arms and all the old men, we would still only have the Deep manned to three quarters strength," the King sighed with an expression on his face that rivaled Dumbledore's at his most weary.

"We will face defeat even with sufficient number I fear," stated Harry gravely.

"What do you mean?" frowned Theoden; "no army has ever penetrated a deepening wall with men defending it."

"King Theoden, this is Saruman's final roll of the die, do you think he will not throw everything he has at you to make sure of victory? Including what conjuring and sorceries he can contrive to throw at you from such a distance," stated Harry. Theoden remained silent for a moment.

"If there is such things thrown at us, will you be able to prevent whatever ails it may cause?" asked Theoden curiously.

"I will do what I can, King Theoden. But I ask you now, what weaknesses does this place have?" Theoden sighed and looked off into the valley.

"The gate into the Keep is thin, without reinforcement it could be battered down in a trice. The ramp is defended from above, but if the enemy forms a shield wall it will be ineffective. Then there are the obvious means of siege warfare, ladders, ballista's, and catapults," he answered.

"The gate I can make impervious to normal harm, I am worried about the wall though," Harry gestured to the long ancient wall on his right, "it has a structural weakness to my eyes."

"Where?"

"The wall is built over the drain grate and that is solid iron, and would ordinarily prevent anyone from going through, yes. But it is a small space and penetrates into the very structure of the wall. I can think of a very simple spell and cast it there; it would cause the wall over it to shatter like ice," stated Harry gravely.

"But I doubt that Saruman will leave Isengard," retorted the King.

"Yes, I agree, but he could simply imbue the spell in a device and have an orc place it there as well," explained Harry.

"I doubt we will have the time to shore up the grate to prevent that, nor do we not have the materials," the King's jaw clenched, "Damn Saruman's treachery. The wizards are supposed to fight against Sauron, not for him."

"Oh, I doubt Saruman is fighting for anyone but himself, but it's our misfortune that this is exactly what Sauron wants," commented Harry. It was late afternoon now and the sun crept behind the towering mountains behind them.

"Sire, if I'm to shore up the grate, I need two things; enough iron of whatever form to create an outer grating, that skirts the surface of the wall and a small amount of your blood."

"What would you need my blood for?" Theoden asked with disgust.

"I intend to invoke the second most powerful form of magic I know of, blood craft. I intend to create a magical ward at the grate and it needs a powerful basis, any living thing with the intention to shed your blood will be repelled," explained Harry, remembering the magic which had for so long protected him at the Dursley's. The King's eyes widened in fear and wonder.

"Can you not do that for the entire Deep?"

"If I had a month, King Theoden I could do that. I doubt though that we will be given until the night before we are under attack. As it is, I can only ward the small area of the grate."

Theoden frowned for a moment and looked into the sky, where a great flock of crows was sweeping across the mouth of the valley.

"Very well," the King then snapped orders to his accompanying guard and they raced off.

Theoden turned to Harry and the King pulled out an ornate dagger. With a flick of a finger Harry conjured a glass test tube and warmed the dagger to scold any bacteria off.

"Sire, this blood needs to be freely given by you, no other hand can have a doing in drawing it," Harry advised. The King nodded uncomfortably and slit the side of his own hand. Harry measured two cubic centimeters of blood and put a stopper on the tube.

"Sano." He touched his staff to the King's bleeding hand and it healed instantly.

Hama approached and reported of a situation that needed the King's attention. Theoden nodded to Harry and left for the innards of the Keep. Harry remained where he was, still in thought about the coming battle. Things were desperate even with his wizardry helping; Harry would feel a lot better if Gandalf was here too, it was obvious that the Chief Wizard of this realm would know some handy spells for a battle like this.

Harry glanced out into the mouth of the Deep and thought he saw something, a rider, and slowly trotting closer on a mount. Ten minutes later, Harry could make out the color and he grinned. Soon enough, a slumped figure on a very familiar chestnut horse rode up the ramp and to the gate. It opened and let a visibly bedraggled Aragorn into the Keep. The Ranger stopped at the door to the inner-fortress and it did not take his friends long to realize he was alive and among them.

"Where is he? Get out of the way. I'm going to kill him!" exclaimed an obviously delighted Gimli. Harry finally moved from his perch on the observation deck towards the touching scene as Gimli grabbed Aragorn's arms in greeting.

"You are the luckiest man alive..."

"So I see Hasufel found you?" grinned Harry.

"What?" queried a puzzled Gimli, and realizing the knowing expression on Harry's face, "you mean, you knew he was alive?" the dwarf exclaimed.

"No I did not know, it all depended who took the brunt of the fall off the cliff, the warg or Aragorn, so on the chance that our good Ranger was alive, I instructed Hasufel to search downstream," Harry chuckled.

"And I can't thank you enough Harold," stated the Ranger sincerely.

"It's my pleasure Aragorn," Harry bowed his head slightly, "now I have to go and see about making this little fortification a tad bit more impenetrable."

Harry concentrated hard, and with a wrench of effort, he Disapparated with a Pop to the mouth of the drain on the outside of the wall. It startled the wits out of the men who had been carrying the iron and heaping it on the ground next to the drain outlet. They relaxed when they saw that it was Harry.

There was a pile of iron rods, bits of broken sword steel, and all manner of other spare metals that had been found. It was enough that Harry could envision making a steel door out of it, but the water from the mountain stream still needed to drain. He held his staff in both hands and concentrated on an image of what he wanted, remembering the complex spell mechanics that McGonagall had taught them for transfiguring inanimate matter. Satisfied he waved his staff at the pile of iron, it coalesced and shifted with colors of the rainbow and eventually made a perfect grate. He levitated it into place and transfigured the sides of the drain and the ground so that the grate merged into the wall seamlessly, as if it had been built that way from day one.

Now Harry pulled out the vial of blood from Theoden and carefully smeared it all around the edges of the drain. Once again he took his staff and concentrated hard, thinking of repulsion, warding, prevention, banishment. When he was ready he pointed the head of his staff at the center of the grate.

"Nullus accedo ad omnia quis opto fundo of haec sanguis!" cried Harry in a loud voice.

A huge bright light shot from his wand and hit the grate, it glowed red for a moment and settled to normality. Harry leaned on his staff for a moment, as he felt dizzy from invoking that amount of magic. He breathed deeply and when he felt steady on his feet again he walked up the ramp and into the Keep.

Instantly, Harry realized he was quite hungry and headed to the inner-fortress to look for some sort of mess hall. Hama met him on the way inside and told him that there was food prepared in the King's throne room and that Theoden needed his presence.

Harry entered the sparsely decorated throne room and found that there was meal tables set on one side. Harry sat down and hurriedly piled food onto his plate and began devouring the meat and vegetables on offer.

Theoden sat on his modest throne, talking to his various Captains. Aragorn was standing to one side, as did Legolas and Gimli.

"Aragorn," beckoned the King, "speak of your tidings," instructed Theoden.

"On my journey from the warg battle to Helm's Deep I spied a great host of Orcs coming this way," reported the Ranger; he looked flabbergasted and quite reluctant to bring the news.

"A great host you said," prompted the King, trying to get the Ranger to elaborate.

"All Isengard is emptied, at least ten thousand strong," stated the Ranger. A ripple of shock passed through all present in the throne room. The King stared at Aragorn incredulously.

"Ten thousand?"

"It is an army bred for a single purpose, to destroy the world of men."

Harry closed his eyes for a moment trying to grasp the numbers of such a huge number of orcs. At the Quidditch World Cup he had seen a magical stadium carrying about ninety thousand spectators, arming just a ninth of that mass of people with food, armor, weapons, and siege machinery, the logistics were mind boggling. Stopping such a mass with what Harry had seen the Rohirrim had behind the walls was, impossible.

Harry only knew one spell, which would make any sort of dent in that number. He had barely glanced at the book it was located in, in the summer after his fifth year at Hogwarts, when Dumbledore asked him to go on a monastic magical study regimen. It was the ancient dairy of a wizard who was in the employ of a muggle European King during the Dark Ages. The kingdom's army was slaughtered in battle and as the enemy army drew nearer to the castle, the King implored the wizard to find a way to stop the siege before it began. The wizard had an idea, he was a devout astronomer and devised of a spell to rain a meteor down on the earth at a specific point.

In this way the wizard had sundered half of the enemy forces in an instant and destroyed all of its siege machinery. The enemy had to retreat. But Harry had absolutely no idea if the spell would even work. He greedily drank down the goblet of water next to his plate, his mind racing.

"Harold the Lost, what is your council to this news?" asked Theoden suddenly.

Harry grabbed his staff and walked over to stand in front of the King.

"What council can one give when faced with odds such as this?" asked Harry rhetorically. It was a surprisingly Dumbledorish thing to say.

"Ten thousand Uruk-Hai...there is nothing to be done but to prepare ourselves to resist them, even in the face of such numbers. My magics with your soldiers that you have here will at best only delay this tide. But I feel we only need to delay them for as long as we can, Gandalf is rallying Eomer and his army with all possible speed. If we can diminish the Uruks enough in their assault on the Deep, then Eomer will be able to attack their flanks with surprise at the head of four thousand cavalry, in addition Gandalf will be with him, it might be enough to barely snatch victory," explained Harry.

"Yes, of course!" exclaimed Aragorn, "I saw no Uruk wargs approaching us, all of them are marching on foot, you don't assault a fortress with cavalry. They would have a hard time stopping a heavy cavalry attack but..." he turned to Harry, "you are assuming of course that Gandalf will be able to get Eomer here in time, I have the utmost trust in him, but I have to be pragmatic."

"As you should be Aragorn, I myself doubt he will arrive in time, but..." Harry smiled, "my heart tells me otherwise."

"Very well, we shall hope and work for the best, but also prepare for the worst," stated the King and dismissed his Captains.

Night fell and torches were lit in the Keep and the final preparations for battle was beginning. Every strong lad and old man able to bare arms was fitted with helm, mail, sword and bow. The tents behind the deepening wall were pitched and stashed. Archers positioned themselves on the battlements and soldiers stood ready. All women and children were sent into the caves. The Rohirrim was as ready as they ever would be.

Harry was with Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli in the armory. Where they were helping him choose a suitable sword, Harry had never wielded a sword against an opponent with another. He told them he had slain a fifty foot long Basilisk with the magical sword of Gryffindor. They were remarkably impressed. But Harry said he would stick to using the sword only as a last ditch defensive measure, offensive spells was his weapon of choice.

They eventually selected a saber of about four feet in length that he could wield with one hand, the blade was polished to spit shine, and the hilt was shaped out of an ornate horse. Harry chose to wear no armor, since magic would be much more effective.

Harry tied the scabbard to his hip and sheathed the sword. Gimli was also trying some of the armor and mail, but they were all hopelessly too big for him. He ruffled the chain mail he had on and let it drop to the floor where it almost trailed like a wedding gown behind him.

"It's a little tight across the chest," he groused. Harry had to suppress sniggers of laughter, which were threatening to come forth.

Suddenly in the distance, they heard echoing horn calls thundering in the deep, which snapped everybody to attention. Harry's heart was racing but Legolas frowned at first and then smiled.

"That is no orc horn," stated the elf gladly. And sped outside to the observation deck, Harry followed eagerly to see what had affected the elf so, as did Aragorn.

Harry stood on the deck and looked out to see a column of over three hundred cloaked figures marching as brisk as any muggle army on earth towards the ramp leading into the keep. Each and every one he could see carried an elegant bow at their side.

"OPEN THE GATE!" called the watchman, next to Harry; he also turned and asked a runner to fetch the King.

The column marched up the ramp and into the Keep. The doors closed behind them and they came to a halt at the steps leading into the Inner-fortress. It was now that Harry saw, to his astonishment, that it was a regiment of elf warriors. King Theoden was nonetheless astonished as well, he stood like a man seeing the first light of day in a terrible night, when there was the dawn of hope.

The King went to the leader of the elf regiment, his eyes wide and disbelieving.

"How?" was all the King managed to articulate.

"I bring greetings from the Lady of the Wood and Elrond of Rivendell, an Alliance once existed between men and elves, we fought together and died together," the leader turned to see Aragorn and smiled, "we come to honor that allegiance, we are proud to fight alongside men once more."

Aragorn came forward and awkwardly greeted the elf with a bow, and then gave in to his human feelings and hugged the elf leader. The elf was startled but smiled again.

"You bring hope Haldir, to us all, and you are most welcome," stated Aragorn fondly.

The regiment stood to attention and began to deploy along the wall and in the Deep behind the wall, after a few snapped orders from Haldir. Legolas now greeted Haldir and had a quick conversation in Elvish. Harry felt transfixed by the musical quality of the language and watched them talk. Harry caught the word 'Istari' which he knew was elvish for 'wizard' and Haldir turned and spied Harry. Legolas talked for some twenty minutes and finally Haldir came up to Harry.

"Harold the Lost, it is a fascinating honor to meet you," greeted Haldir.

"And you Haldir," Harry bowed his head slightly.

"Your presence in this battle warms my heart. Galadriel, the Lady of the Wood will be most interested to meet you," stated Haldir.

"And I her Haldir, but come, I have lent much sorcery today to the aid of Rohan, and battle will soon be upon us. Saruman will also most likely throw his weight behind this attack and I must meet that as well," sighed Harry.

Haldir bowed and walked off on to the Deepening wall to coordinate his elf regiment. Harry remained on the observation deck and looked out in the darkness, where they knew the Uruk army would be advancing. King Theoden walked on to the deck; he was arraigned in shining plate armor with intricate patterning, his shoulder length blonde hair free.

"King Theoden, when I reinforce the doors of the Keep there will be no going in or out, for anyone, will there be no more Rohirrim that arrive save for Eomer and his army?" asked Harry. The King shook his head.

"No, none that I know of, what we have behind the walls will have to do the task," stated the King.

"Very well," replied Harry and walked the circular staircase to the front doors of the Keep. Men in armor were all behind it ready with wood and all a manner of other materials to repair the gate, should it be necessary.

He raised his staff to the gate and all the men nearby scurried out of the way.

"Invictus Ianua!" he cast and a blue shimmering appeared over the door. He beckoned the Captain in charge of the gate to him.

"Captain, this gives the gate about four times the strength it would normally have. If the blue shimmering disappears, know that the magic has been dissipated. Then you are dealing with a normal gate, so don't get complacent," instructed Harry earnestly. The Captain nodded understanding and ordered his men back behind the gate. Harry returned up to the observation deck.

"Will they be able to break through?" asked the King.

"Eventually, yes. But it will take a long time," replied Harry, staring out into the darkness.

There was now nothing anybody could do but wait. There was not a whisper amongst the defenders of Helm's Deep. Far down in the valley scattered fires burned. The hosts of Isengard were advancing. Their torches could be seen winding towards the Deep.