Harry Potter and the Ring of Doom

Harry came back to himself slowly. The first thing that he noted was an odd sound, a familiar rhythm, perhaps a bit fast, but still familiar. He then noted that his head was resting on something soft. Finally, the sound became known - a heartbeat. He opened his eyes in shock, and as soon as they focused, he quickly pulled himself away from Hermione.

"My gods, Hermione, I am so sorry. I ..." He stopped as she began to laugh. "What?"

"Harry," she giggled. "You were the only one to come through unconscious. We caught you and ... well, remember how I told you that you have a 'saving people' thing? I appear to have a 'mothering people' thing. I'd have done the same for Draco or Ron."

"Really?" Ron said, followed by an obviously fake faint. Harry saw the smile and blush flicker across her face, but by the time Ron had squeaked an eye back open, she was looking at him sternly. "What? You said ..."

"Ronald Weasley, that only applies if you're seriously having a problem." She huffed and turned around. Harry could see the laugh she was suppressing.

As he helped Ron to his feet, Draco said, "Ron, old chap, I'd quit while you're behind. No need to make things worse." Ron wheeled on Draco, but his comment died on his lips as he saw the friendly smile on Draco's face.

Harry cleared his throat. "Well, we're in Bree, it seems. More precisely, just outside it. We need to go inside the town and find the inn of the Prancing Pony and look for Gandalf. We were told to say that we were friends of Mister Underhill, if it becomes necessary. Under no circumstances should any of us talk about the burden I carry. We get it to Rivendell, and then we hopefully go home." He looked at Hermione again and said, "Do you have a jacket or something you could put on? I'd imagine that you're going to draw a lot of attention, Hermione, and we may not want that."

"Says who?" she chuckled at him, but slid her backpack off and found her school cloak. She slipped it on and clasped it at the neck. "Better?"

"Better," Harry smiled. To himself he murmured, "At least now I can think again."

The four walked to the gate, and were met by a man who jumped to his feet with a lantern. "Travellers! What brings you this way, and what is your destination?"

"We are out later than we intended, and would have camped, but for the lights of the town," Ron said, surprising them all. "We have heard that the Prancing Pony shows excellent hospitality, and hope to gain entrance in order to discover that for ourselves."

"There are many queer folk out tonight, so don't be too surprised if the Pony is unable to find you rooms." He opened the gate and let them in, giving them directions to the Prancing Pony, and they found themselves glad of the clang of the gate behind them. They did not see a shadow slip over the wall beside the gate, and blend into shadows.

"Ron, where did that come from?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Hey, I'm not a complete idiot," came the reply. "I only play one on the Wizard's Wireless. I figured the way we normally talk wouldn't get us too far, so I made a stab that sounding more formal might help. And since he was watching the gate, there's something to watch against, so putting him more at ease about us couldn't hurt."

The group walked up a gentle slope past a few detached houses before finding the inn. It was a three story building, fronting on the Road, with two wings running back on land partly cut out of the lower slopes of the surrounding hills, so that the second story windows of the wings were level with the ground, at the rear of the inn. The door was open, and light poured from the opening. A large signboard swung overhead, with the image of a fat white pony reared up on its hind legs. Over the door was painted THE PRANCING PONY and BARLIMAN BUTTERBUR. A chorus of loud, cheerful singing came from inside.

They stepped in the door and were almost run over by a short fat man with a bald head and a red face, wearing a white apron and carrying a tray laden with full mugs. "Your pardon, masters!" He shouted over his shoulder. "Half a minute!" he shouted before disappearing into a babel of voices and a cloud of smoke. A moment later he returned, wiping his hands on his apron. "Good evening, masters! Oh, and good evening mistress! My apologies! What might you be wanting?"

"Some news, and two rooms if you have them," Harry said.

"News I can give you, as can those in the company in there. Rooms, well, there we have a problem. I have but one, and it has only two beds." He snapped his fingers. "Or, if you don't mind bending over a bit while you're in there, I've got a hobbit hole I could put you in. Comfortable for them, a bit small for us Big Folk, but bigger than the other room. Beds might be a bit small for you, but I think you could manage."

Draco spoke up. "We'll take it." He tapped Ron on the shoulder. "You and I can start the watch tonight, and then we'll wake him partway through the night." For his part, Ron spent only a second wondering, before following Draco's lead with a simple nod.

At Barliman's raised eyebrows, Harry said, "We guard her while we travel. We take turns at the watch while she sleeps."

Butterbur shook his head, obviously remembering something else he'd forgotten to mention. "One thing drives out another, I'm so busy tonight. The hobbit hole has four beds. As for news, what do you want to know?" he asked.

"More than anything else, we're wondering if you've seen Gandalf around here tonight," Harry said. "We were told to meet him here. We're friends of Mr. Underhill."

Barliman snapped his fingers again. "What does that name remind me of? It's gone again. I'm run off my feet tonight, make no mistake on that. It'll come later, and I'll let you know if it turns out to be important. Follow me, I'll take you to your room." He bustled off without bothering to see if they were following. As they entered the room, he exclaimed "Ah, right! Gandalf! That's what I was thinking. Sorry to say I haven't seen him for three months now." He snapped his fingers once more. "Curse me for an empty-minded fool! Will you be seeing Mr. Underhill soon? If so, I have a letter for him from Gandalf."

"If everything turns out well, Mr. Butterbur, we certainly hope to be seeing him soon," Harry said. "We'd be glad to give him the letter."

"Good, good! I'll run up front and have Bob or Nob bring it back to you, if I can't do it myself." He started to bustle out the door, looked back, shook his head, and said, "You'll be wanting dinner too, I'll suppose. I'll get that right back to you as well." With that, he was out the door so fast that it felt as if they should be sucked out in his wake.

They looked about the room. A small fire burned in the hearth, and in front of it were some hobbit-sized chairs before a hobbit height table, already spread with a white cloth. On the table was a hand bell. Before they could do anything, there was a knock at the door. Ron opened to watch a halfling bustle in with a tray full of plates, and some candles. "I'm Nob," he said as he placed the plates on the table, and the candles as well. "Will you be wanting anything to drink, masters? And shall I show you the bedrooms?" They found that the four beds were split between two rooms. Small but comfortable looking beds sat in the rooms.

They were washed and in the midst of mugs of actual beer when Barliman and Nob returned, bearing food. In a twinkling, the table was full of hot soup, blackberry tarts, new loaves of bread, slabs of butter, and most of a ripe cheese. It may have been plain food, but it was homey, and the four Hogwarts students began to feel more at ease. Butterbur pulled the letter from his apron. "I've held this too long, but not a'purpose, and please tell Mr. Baggins that, for that's who this letter is for." He read from it slowly and proudly, "Mr. FRODO BAGGINS, BAG END, HOBBITON, in the SHIRE." He looked at them and said, "I meant to get the letter out to Mr. Baggins as fast as I could, but I couldn't find no one goin' to the Shire that day, or the next, and one thing after the other put it clean out of my mind. But you're goin' to see him soon, I'd be obliged if you'd take this to him. I just hope Gandalf doesn't roast me for the delay, no matter how deservin' I may be."

"We shall see to it that Gandalf knows you tried, Mr. Butterbur," Harry said. "He can ask no more."

"Thank you, good master. And it's Barliman, if you need me. Everyone just calls for Barliman." He bustled his way out of the room again, leaving them to their meals.

"Is it me, or does his way of talking leave you breathless?" Hermione laughed. "As if you'd just done some great workout?"

"I was just thinking that it felt like a day after working out on the Quidditch pitch," Draco said, "without the muscle aches."

"Do we open it?" Ron said into the following silence. He slurped a bit of soup as he watched the others ponder that. "I mean, we know it was meant for Frodo, but I'm betting that Gandalf put some info in there that we could use, too."

"I think Ron's right," Harry said, and looked carefully at the seal before breaking it. Before he could pull the letter out, though, there was another knock at the door.

"Bugger me!" Ron exclaimed quietly. "Can't we get any peace to grab a bite to eat?"

"You and your stomach," Hermione said as she walked to the door. Opening it slightly, she said, "May I help you?"

"Not Barliman then," murmured Ron.

"No, I am not Barliman," came a quiet voice from the doorway. "I am called Strider, and I may have some information to your advantage."

Harry opened his mouth to invite him in, but the old Draco seemed to have reappeared suddenly. "How do we know it's to our advantage? How can we be sure that you're not just trying to rob us?" He asked, getting up and walking to the door, pushing Hermione out of the way.

"Because if I were here to rob you, young master, I'd already be in the room tying you up." Strider pushed the door open, although Draco made a valiant attempt to keep the door where it had been. He lived up to his name by striding quickly into the room and closing the door behind him. "Now we may talk plainer."

Harry found himself angry at this man who had just barged into the room in the middle of their dinner, and angrier still as he began to speak. "You are not the four I was told to expect on the roads, yet you know the name I was told, and you know Gandalf. I would know why."

"You would, would you?" Harry barked. "And what possible reason could we have for telling you? You give no bona fides as to who you really are, rather than that ridiculous name Strider, and I doubt that was the name you were given at birth."

"Caution is a good thing, Harry," Strider replied. As Harry started, Strider laughed with little mirth. "Surprised that I know your name? All of your names, actually. Harry, Hermione, Ronald Weasley, and Draco," he said, pointing correctly at each one. "Let me explain how I know that, and perhaps we can come to an agreement. I was behind the hedge earlier this evening on the Road west of Bree when four people stepped out of thin air. Now this was interesting enough, but one of them immediately lost consciousness, and was cradled to the lady's bosom. This shocked him when he awoke. What I found interesting was his statement to the other three shortly after: 'Under no circumstances should any of us talk about the burden I carry. We get it to Rivendell, and then we hopefully go home.' That and the mention of the name Underhill just prior made me curious enough to slip over the gate and to the inn."

"How do we know you're not after the ... burden?" Ron asked defiantly.

"If I wanted the Enemy's Ring, Ron Weasley, I could simply take it ... NOW!" He stood up, and seemed to grow taller, a keen, commanding light glowing in his eyes. Throwing back his cloak, the hilt of a sword became visible. He stared at Harry for a moment.

That was about all the time he had, because Hermione had whipped out her wand and exclaimed "Petrificus Totalus!" Strider came to a complete and utter stop. Luckily he was still balanced to stay upright. Harry walked forward and removed the sword from its sheath, to find that it was broken about a foot below the hilt.

"Not very useful, eh?" Ron said, looking at the thing as they set it on the table. "Tell you what, 'Mione. We'll keep an eye on him while you eat. Maybe that letter will give us some idea as to whether or not he should be trusted." She nodded, and Ron stood to take the watch.

They could see something in Strider's eyes, since he was aware of them, but they weren't sure if it was a blinding anger or surprise, or even a grudging respect. Harry opened the letter finally and read it.

THE PRANCING PONY, BREE, Midyear's Day, Shire Year, 1418.

Dear Frodo,

Bad news has reached me here. I must go off at once. You had better leave Bag End soon, and be out of the Shire before the end of July at latest. I will return as soon as I can; and I will follow you, if I find that you are gone. Leave a message for me here, at Bree. You can trust the landlord (Butterbur). You may meet a friend of mine on the Road: a Man, lean, dark, tall, by some called Strider. He knows our business and will help you. Make for Rivendell. There I hope we may meet again. If I do not come, Elrond will advise you.

Yours in haste

GANDALF

PS. Do NOT use It again, not for any reason whatever! Do not travel by night!

PPS. Make sure that it is the real Strider There are many strange men on the roads. His true name is Aragorn.

All that is gold does not glitter,

Not all those who wander are lost;

The old that is strong does not wither,

Deep roots are not touched by the frost.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken,

A light from the shadows shall spring;

Renewed shall be blade that was broken,

The crownless again shall be king.

PPPS. I hope Butterbur sends this promptly. A worthy man, but his memory is like a lumber-room: thing wanted always buried. If he forgets, I shall roast him.

Fare Well!

"Let's let him loose," Harry said. "Gandalf gave some ways to recognize the Strider we want."

"Oh, Strider is mentioned by name?" Hermione asked around a piece of cheese.

"Finite Incantatum!" Ron said from a distance away, wand still at the ready to stop their visitor if necessary.

"I am not surprised that Gandalf would mention me. Part of me wishes to ask what methods he chose to use to prove it, but that is in my hands to offer proof." He smiled at Hermione. "Another part of me has learned not to underestimate you four, especially not the lady."

Draco murmured, "'When hunter meets with hunted, each confirms the other's tale; the female of the species is more deadly than the male.'"

"I find that I agree," Strider said. "What I have said so far proves nothing more than that I have overheard your conversations, and that I know what the burden you carry is. That I can be trusted? Nothing yet proves that." He thought for a moment before saying, "Be that as it may be. I can but hope to prove myself - my 'bona fides', as you say. I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn, and I am what they call a Ranger in these parts. What sits on your table is the largest piece of Narsil, the Sword that was Broken. If these days are those I suspect, it shall be reforged soon." He sat away from the group. "What would you ask of me that I might prove myself?"

"Nothing," Harry said. "Put the wand down, Ron. He's either the one Gandalf wanted Frodo to meet, or such a good copy that we won't know otherwise until it's too late." He turned to the table. "Care to join us, Aragorn?" He handed the letter to Hermione, and felt a tiny pang of jealousy as Draco leaned against her to read it at the same time.

"Hmm, I see what you mean," Draco said. "I wouldn't be surprised if he could quote the entire rhyme."

"I've certainly known it long enough," Aragorn smiled. "Frodo's uncle wrote it about me many, many years ago." He sat back, pulled out a pipe, and began to smoke it while the Hogwarts crew finished eating. Once they were done, he said, "I think it best if you all went to bed now, for I should like to be moving in early morning's light, after you have had a short breakfast."

"Agreed," Harry said, "no matter how much I hate waking up in the mornings." They looked at each other. "So, Hermione, pick the room you're sleeping in, and the bed. After you've chosen, we'll pull the other mattress out here, and Draco and Ron can sleep in the room you don't pick." She just looked at him in surprise. "Look at it this way - these mattresses are undoubtedly more comfortable than anything that the Dursleys gave me. I spent eleven years sleeping on the floor, in a room with spiders and other disgusting things. I think the only reason they didn't starve me to death is that they would have had to explain it. This is a clean room, and the exercise of dragging that mattress out here will tire me out for sure." Plus I don't have to even consider the concept of sleeping that close to a girl that I'm definitely attracted to - given last year, I'm not sure I could trust myself around her.

Hermione sighed. "There's a problem with having it all decided for us, Harry. If I let you do what you suggest, I'll feel like I'm forcing you to sleep on the floor, and I'll feel like an honorary Dursley."

Harry's head dropped. "So you decide. Who gets the other bed in your room?" I was trying to make this easy. There are times when someone else having a sense of honor is really annoying.

Ron grumbled. "Draco, to hell with this. Let them argue. I'm going to bed." He grabbed his bag and stalked into one of the rooms. Draco merely chuckled and followed him.

"Looks to me like they made the decision for you," Aragorn chuckled.

#####

An hour later, Aragorn's eyebrows rose as Harry exited the room, quite obviously trying to avoid waking Hermione. He watched as Harry's right hand came up to cover his face, and then Harry shuddered slightly. "Do all your nights with her end with this kind of drama?" Aragorn asked with a slight smile.

"Normally she sleeps in a dormitory that refuses to allow boys into it," Harry said as he grabbed a chair and sat down.

"Ah," was Aragorn's only reply, in a voice that spoke volumes.

#####

As light came in the windows, Aragorn awoke from his light sleep to hear Hermione exit her room. She looked at Harry with a vexed look for a moment, and then softened, walked over, and gently kissed his forehead, right on the scar that Aragorn had noticed the night before. "Thank you, Harry," she whispered before standing straighter and tapping him on the shoulder. "Couldn't sleep, Harry?" she asked with mild annoyance in her voice. Her eyes slid to Aragorn, and when he nodded at her, he realized that she hadn't known he was awake.

"Hmm?" Harry asked tiredly. "Oh, sorry, Hermione. I couldn't sleep in there, for whatever reason, so I came out here to stare at the fire and think until I was tired enough to go back in. I guess I got too tired. I don't remember falling asleep." He looked at the fire, still going, and gasped. He ran into the room, grabbed the tin of Floo powder that they'd brought in order to occasionally communicate with their own world, and tossed a tiny pinch into the fireplace while saying "Albus Dumbledore!"

Aragorn was intrigued to see an image appear in the silver flames. "Gandalf!" he cried.

"No, I am not Gandalf," came a voice from the image. "My name is Albus Dumbledore. I have been in contact with your Gandalf, however." The face turned to Harry. "It is obvious that you have successfully made it to the halflings' world. We can all breathe a little easier now. How long have you been there?"

"Less than a day, sir," Harry answered. "We should keep this short, but I just wanted to call and tell you we had made it. We also have a travelling companion - one of Gandalf's trusted friends."

"Excellent. I shall let the others know."

"Good. Harry, signing off." As the flames faded, Aragorn could hear this Dumbledore murmuring, "I like that - 'This is Albus Dumbledore, signing off...'" Harry was chuckling.

"That man is odd at times, but he's definitely someone you don't want to cross. Some of the Ministry officials are scared of him." Harry shook his head. "Sorry, you have no idea what I'm talking about. Let's all get dressed and get something to eat." He headed into his room, followed by Hermione. As the door closed, he heard a squeak that only could have come from Harry...

#####

"Hermione!"

"Harry, we don't have time for this. We need to be on the Road as soon as we can be, because I don't know how long a trip we have. If we face away from each other as we dress, we should be fine. That way we don't see any 'naughty bits', as Monty Python would say." She sighed a long-suffering sigh and murmured, "Boys!" She faced away from him and began lifting her nightshirt.

Harry spun fast enough that he became dizzy for a moment. He grabbed his clothes and dressed quickly. Without turning, he sat on the bed. "Tell me when it's safe, Hermione." He heard her giggle.

"Well, if you won't be bothered by me buttoning up my blouse, it's safe." He counted to ten before turning in time to watch her button her last button, and then flip the cloak about her shoulders. "We're going to need to talk, the five of us, while we're on the Road," she said. "I had some trouble sleeping last night when I realized something."

"What?"

"No, I'll tell when we're on the Road. Easier that way." She led the way out of the room, with Harry behind her, very puzzled.

After breakfast and settling the bill, they left the Prancing Pony.