Harry Potter and the Ring of Doom

They had travelled on their slow road south for a fortnight when the weather changed. They had been traveling in a wind that Ron had referred to as 'lazy' - it couldn't be bothered to go around you, so it went right straight through you. The sun, if it bothered showing at all, seemed to do it more as a short visit, rather than an extended stay.

The new weather involved the wind changing direction and the sun coming out, albeit a pale and bright sunlight. They found themselves, on that morning, next to ancient holly trees, their red berries glowing red in the morning sunlight. Gandalf looked out over the land and said, "We have done well. We have reached the borders of the land that Men call Hollin; many Elves lived here in happier days, when Eregion was its name. Forty-five leagues we have travelled as the crow flies; our feet have done many more. The land and weather will be milder now, but perhaps all the more dangerous."

"It may be dangerous," Ron replied, "but it's nice to feel the sun on my face for a while."

"Where exactly are we heading?" Hermione asked, pulling out the map she'd gotten in Rivendell.

Pointing to it on the map, Gandalf said, "We head for the Dimrill Dale. If we climb the pass called Redhorn Gate, under the far side of Caradhras, we shall come down the Dimrill Stair into the deep vale of the Dwarves." He took a deep breath. "We have completed the first part of the journey; I think we should rest here, not only today, but for tonight as well. There is a wholesome air to Hollin; great evil must befall an area before it wholly forgets the Elves, if once they dwelt there."

"That is true," said Legolas. "But the Elves of this land were of a race strange to us of the sylvan folk, and the trees and grass do not remember them. Only the stones still lament them: deep they delved us, fair they wrought us, high they builded us; but they are gone. The left for the Havens long ago."

They lit a fire in a deep hollow shrouded by great holly bushes, and their supper/breakfast was far merrier than it had been for the previous two weeks. They did not hurry to bed immediately, as they expected to have the night to rest as well, and did not expect to begin travel until the evening of the next day. Only Aragorn was uneasy. After a time he left the Company to stand on a ridge, his head posed as if listening as he watched to the south and west. Several minutes later, he returned to the edge of the dell and looked at the group.

"Something wrong, Strider?" Hermione asked as she looked up at him.

"I do not know. I have been in Hollin many times in my travels, and although no folk dwell here anymore, many other creatures do, especially birds. But now, all things but you are silent. I can feel it. There is not a sound about us for miles, and the ground seems to echo with your voices. I do not understand it."

"What do you guess may be the cause?" Gandalf asked, looking up with sudden interest. "Is it more than simple surprise at seeing so large a group of travellers where people are seldom seen and heard?"

"I hope that to be the reason, but I have a sense of watchfulness and fear that I have never felt here before."

"Then more careful we must be," Gandalf said. "If you bring a Ranger with you, it would do you well to listen to his concerns, especially if he is Aragorn. We must stop talking aloud, rest quietly, and set the watch."

Ron took the first watch, and Aragorn chose to join him while the others fell asleep. It was then that Ron could hear what Aragorn had been talking about; he could hear the breathing of the sleepers plainly, and even the movement of his own feet seemed loud. Dead silence surrounded them, and under a clear blue sky, with the sun rising in the east, he saw a dark patch in the sky to the south appear and grow as it came north as smoke flies in the wind. "Hsst! Strider!" he whispered. "What's that? It doesn't look like a cloud."

Before long it became obvious what was approaching. Flocks of birds, flying at great speed, wheeling and circling as if they were seeking something on the ground, and they were steadily drawing closer. "Lie flat and still!" hissed Aragorn, pulling Ron into the shade of a holly-bush as nigh unto a regiment of birds broke from the main group and flew straight for the ridge. To Ron's eyes they seemed to be large crows in a mass so thick that they left a dark shadow on the ground they passed over. A single croak was heard. Only when the sky was again clear would Aragorn rise, and he headed to rouse Gandalf.

"Crebain fly the skies between the Mountains and the Greyflood, and they have overflown Hollin. Perhaps there is trouble to the south that they flee, but I believe them to be spies. We should move again come evening; Hollin is no longer wholesome for us."

"Which means that the Redhorn Gate is also unsafe, and how we shall cross that without being seen is beyond my ken at this time. But you are correct, Aragorn; we move tonight. Luckily the fire was small and made little smoke. It must be put out and not lit again."

There was generalized grumbling over this, but it was understood. They waited until evening, and once more took to the road, on what looked to be a truly ancient trail. The sky remained clear, and the moon rose full in the sky. It was just shy of the first light of dawn when Harry felt or saw a shadow pass over the stars, as if they faded for only a moment. "Did you see anything pass overhead, Gandalf?" he whispered.

"No, but I felt it, whatever it was," came the answer. "It may be nothing, only a thin wisp of a cloud."

"It was moving fast, and against the wind, then," murmured Aragorn.

They marched two more nights. On the morning of the third day, they stood at the foot of Caradhras, rising steeply before them, with silver snow at the peak, but sheer red cliff walls, as if stained deeply with blood. "Well, that looks inviting, don't it?" Ron muttered sarcastically. The sky looked angry, and ready for a storm, the sun wan in the sky.

Harry was close enough to hear Gandalf speak to Aragorn quietly. "Winter deepens behind us. The heights to the north are whiter than before; snow lies low on their shoulders. Tonight we shall be high up toward the Redhorn Gate. We may well be seen by watchers on that narrow path, and waylaid by some evil; but weather may prove deadlier than any enemy. What do you think of your course now, Aragorn?" Harry understood that this was the continuation of a long-standing debate between these two.

"I think no good of our course from start to finish, Gandalf, as you know, and perils both known and unknown will multiply as we go on. We must go on, though; delaying will serve no good purpose. Further south there are no passes until the Gap of Rohan, and with the foul news of Saruman, I trust that not at all."

"There is another way, and not by Caradhras: the dark and secret way we have spoken of."

"Say no more of it right now! In fact, say nothing of it until there is no other choice, I ask you."

"We must decide before we go further," Gandalf answered back.

"Then let us weigh the matter in our minds, while the others rest and sleep," Aragorn said, putting an end to this portion of the debate.

The Company slept as they could during the day, and that afternoon, late, as the Company finished its breakfast, Gandalf and Aragorn once again stepped away from the group. As they returned, Gandalf spoke, finally settling the question as to who had who had won he debate. "From signs that we have seen lately, I fear that the Redhorn Gate may be watched; also I have doubts for the weather approaching from behind us. Snow may come. We must go with all the speed we can muster; even so it will take us more than two marches before we reach the top of the pass. Dark will come early. We must leave as soon as you can be ready."

"I will add a word of advice, if I may," Boromir interjected. "I was born under the shadow of the White Mountains and know something of journeys in high places. Bitter cold will meet us before we reach the other side, if nothing worse. Secrecy is good, but not if we freeze to death. While we have trees, I recommend that we each carry as large a faggot of wood as we can carry."

"Agreed," replied Gandalf, "but we must not use it unless the choice is between fire and death."

They set out after a surprisingly short period, and the beginning of the climb went well. Rapidly, however, the trail steepened and became rocky and difficult, rocks often blocking the way. By midnight, under deeply dark skies with piercing winds swirling around them, they reached the knees of the mountain. Their path now wound under a sheer wall of cliffs to their left and by a precipitously deep ravine to their right. They stopped for a moment at the top of a particularly steep slope. Harry felt the gentle brush of snow on his face, and saw a few flakes on his cloak.

Before long, however, they were in the midst of fast falling snow, swirling about them so heavily that Gandalf and Aragorn, scant feet ahead, could barely be seen. Gandalf halted. "This is what I feared. What say you now, Aragorn?"

"That I feared it also, but less than other things. I knew the risk of snow, though it seldom falls heavily so far south, save high in the mountains; but we are not high yet. We are still far down, where the paths are usually open all winter."

"I wonder if this is a contrivance of the Enemy," said Boromir. "They say in Gondor that he can govern the storms in the Mountains of Shadow that stand upon the borders of Mordor. He has strange powers and many allies."

Gimli snorted. "His arm has grown long if he can draw snow down from the North to trouble us here three hundred leagues away."

"His arm has grown long," was Gandalf's simple reply.

While they were halted the wind died, and the snow slackened until it had almost completely stopped. They began to move again, but had gotten no more than an eighth of a mile before the storm returned with a vengeance. In almost no time, even Boromir found it difficult to move, and Gimli was grumbling.

As if by some unspoken signal, the Company stopped. Noises in the dark could be heard; while they might have been tricks of the window through cracks and crevices, they sounded as if shrill cries and wild howls of laughter were bouncing off the walls of the mountain. Stones began to fall, whistling over their heads or crashing into the path beside them. Now and again they heard a dull rumble as a great boulder would roll down from hidden heights above.

"We cannot go further tonight," said Boromir. "Some may call it the wind, but there are fell voices in the air, and those stones are aimed at us."

"I do call it the wind," replied Aragorn," but that does not make what you say untrue. Many evil and unfriendly things walk this world that hate that which goes on two legs, and yet do not serve the Enemy. Some have been here since before him."

"Caradhras was called the Cruel long before the legend of Sauron came to these lands," Gimli said.

"We shall have to stop here and make shelter as best we can," said Gandalf. "If memory serves, there is no shelter before us, and behind us offers no better shelter than here."

"Some shelter," Ron grumbled. The group huddled together near an outcropping that offered some small shelter from the wind and snow, but as they became colder and began to get become drowsy from the cold, it became obvious that fire would be necessary if they were to survive.

Hermione, shivering, smiled as she pulled out her new wand. "Mind stepping away from the rock?" she chuckled, the effect ruined by the chattering of her teeth. Even hugging Harry tightly had not been helping either of them. When everyone was a safe distance away, she murmured, "Incendio!", and the top of the rock burst into flames. She also found that it was a somewhat larger fire than she had intended, but not so large as to put the party at risk. She stared at the new wand. "What are these made of?" she asked incredulously.

Gandalf warmed himself for several moments before answering. "If Elrond did as he told me he would, you four carry some of the last stores of mithril that the Elves of Rivendell had in their possession. There is some left; worry not. It had been kept for times of great need, and if this does not qualify, then naught ever will."

Gimli nodded. "Aye, to be given something of such great worth says much for the esteem in which they hold you."

"What's so special about it?" Ron asked, his curiosity piqued.

"It can be beaten like copper and polished like glass. The Dwarves can make of it a metal, light and yet harder than tempered steel. Its beauty is like unto that of silver, but mithril does not tarnish or dim. The Elves made of it ithildin, called starmoon by Men, used often for special purposes; it can only be seen by moonlight or starlight. They also wrought it for other purposes, as you have seen, and carry."

Hermione stood thinking for a moment, watching the flames on the rock melt the nearby snow. Finally, she spoke. "Evidence seems to show that this mithril is an innately magical metal," she said, sliding into her scholar persona. "Harry's deadly bouquet of flowers," she said, stopping only for a moment to snort out the chuckle she couldn't suppress, "and now this rather larger fire than I had planned. I think we either use these only for combat purposes, or get used to significantly more powerful effects from our spells." She looked at Harry. "Definitely a bad idea to give a girl a bouquet with these wands, unless you're across the room." She giggled again.

"I'm not going to live that one down, am I?" he asked, the grin wide on his face, and was answered by three other grins, shaking their heads.

The night passed, the snow falling steadily. The fire kept them warm, and even allowed some of them to catch some significantly safer sleep. As morning light began to work its way through the blowing snow, they noticed that the fall was milder, and by the time the light was more obvious, they were certain that the snow was soon to stop. Gimli stepped out to look up the mountain. "Caradhras has not forgiven us for the attempt. If we go further up, he will throw more snow at us. Our hope is in descent."

"The difficulty will be in getting through," Boromir replied. "This snow is chest high in places. Perhaps the lady could do something?"

Hermione frowned and looked at Harry, Draco, and Ron. "We could probably clear a path using Expelliarmus, but I don't know if that might bring down more of the mountain. I don't really know of any other spell that could ber anywhere as effective, and I'm a bit afraid to do it." She looked up at Gandalf. "Is there another way?"

"If I can find a way to light fire to snow, perhaps," Gandalf chuckled.

"Well," said Boromir, "when heads are at a loss bodies must serve, as we say in my country. The strongest of us must seek the way. That shoulder was where we encountered our worst problem, so perhaps if we can reach there, the going will be easier."

"Then let us force a path, you and I!" Aragorn said. Boromir, the broader chested of the two, took point, with Aragorn bringing up the rear. The going was slow, and at times he appeared to be swimming or burrowing through the snow, rather than plowing with his great strength.

"Why were you worried?" Ron said quietly. "I doubt we'd bring down that much snow if we tried that."

"I know," she whispered, "but if we're doing all the work, it tires us out, and it could make them feel useless. So, let Aragorn and Boromir tire themselves out, feeling they've proven their worth. We can always widen the path with Expelliarmus, after all."

About an hour later, Aragorn and Boromir worked their way back to the Company. They were obviously tired, and shook their heads. "The snow lessens to almost nothing around the corner," Aragorn said. "It was over our heads, for a short time, but once through, it disappeared rapidly."

"Ah, it is as I said," Gimli growled. "The ill will of Caradhras; he does not love Elves or Dwarves, and sought to cut off our escape."

"Happily, your Caradhras forgot that you have Men with you, and doughty Men at that, if I may say. Lesser men with spades and shovels might have served better, but there is now a lane for us to travel."

Hermione pointed her Hogwarts wand at the burning stone and said, "Finite Incantatum!" and the fire went out. The Company picked up their packs and began to walk the path that Boromir and Aragorn had cut, the two men at the front again to widen the path. Harry brought up the rear, mithril wand at the ready. In short order they were past the obstruction. The moment Harry's feet were past the edge of the wall, a deep rumble of falling stones and swirling snow blinded the Company. When the air cleared, it was obvious that they would not be able to even consider that path again.

"Enough!" cried Gimli. "We are departing as quickly as we may!" In fact, that seemed Caradhras' last gasp; the skies began to clear and the light became broader.

The morning was already nearly gone by the time they reached the area where Harry had felt snow the night before. He was tired, sore, dizzy, and could see black spots before his eyes. He rubbed them and found that they were still there.

"The birds again!" Aragorn said, pointing down at where Harry had been looking.

"That cannot be helped now," Gandalf said. "Whether they are there for us, for good, for ill, or for no reason connecting to us, we must be off this mountain by nightfall."

Glad someone other than me saw them, Harry thought with a small internal chuckle. Hate to think I'm going crazy. As they walked down the mountain, his thoughts wandered to the Ring he wore about his neck. I wonder what else this thing can do? Invisibility can't be its only power. For that matter, if invisibility was its main power, how could Isildur see Sauron to cut the Ring off his hand? He considered this for a while. As I understand it, he thought finally, Isildur had invisibility because he needed it to hide from the Orcs. Gollum needed it to hide from everyone. Bilbo needed invisibility from Gollum. Frodo used it for invisibility, I assume, because that's what he knew it did, from Bilbo. I have no idea if I turned invisible when I put it on at Weathertop. If it weren't so dangerous, I'd experiment.

When evening finally came, the mountain was behind them, and the Company was tired and aching. After they had eaten, Gandalf called a council. "We cannot go on tonight, of course. The attack on the Redhorn Gate has tired us, and we must rest here a while."

"Where do we go next?" Draco asked.

"Either onward, or back to Rivendell," Gandalf said.

Harry could hear the old Draco in the voice that answered, "Thanks awfully, old chap, but that doesn't answer the question."

Gandalf gave Draco a look that could have melted steel, but Draco shrugged, which caused Gandalf to laugh quickly, but seriousness returned all too fast. "There is a path I thought of when first this journey was suggested. It is not a pleasant one, and I have not spoken of it to the Company before, except to Aragorn, who was against it until we had attempted Caradhras, which is now closed to us. I would take the Gap of Rohan as absolute last possibility; I would not put the Ring within Saruman's grasp, and Rohan is too close for my tastes. The road I speak of leads through Moria." Gimli looked up, a smouldering fire in his eyes. The other three of Middle-earth obviously felt some dread at the name.

Harry looked around the group, and realized that his was going to be the deciding vote, even if all others were against him. Finally, he spoke. "I must trust you for the information concerning this world. Our choices are Caradhras, which we've already tried, and you saw how that worked out, the Gap of Rohan, which would put me far too close to a wizard who wants this Ring, or this place called Moria, which is apparently a place of evil legend here." He sighed. "My mind and heart misgive that this is the right decision, but I will go through Moria with whomever will come." He paused and suddenly realized what he had said. Turning to his friends he said, "'Misgive'? I've been here too long!" he laughed.

"How far is Moria?" Boromir asked.

"There was a door some fifteen miles south-west as the crow flies. It would be roughly twenty miles for us. We should start at morning light."

Draco looked around at the clearing they were in. The ground was clear and cold, with no traces of snow. "Aragorn? If we set a watch, would this be a good place to set up my tent?"

Aragorn laughed. "Yes, Draco! Perfect! We can have one night of warmth before we head for Moria. How does that withstand damage?"

Draco laughed in return. "Once that thing is up, I think it would take the four of us using the mithril wands to put a dent in the protections on this thing. That was one thing Dad was good for: always buy the best, if only to lord it over everyone else." He reached into his pack and pulled out the tent, and the team set out to get it built.

Once it was up, the Company headed inside, or would have if Gandalf had not stopped dead in surprise immediately inside the door. "And you do not have the power to destroy the Ring," he murmured, moving to the side to let the others in.

Boromir, Gimli, and Legolas walked the ground floor in shock, while Harry laughed and said, "Right. One dinner, light on the melodrama, coming up." Aragorn's laughter followed him into the kitchen.

Hermione followed him in. "Need a hand, Harry?" She asked, finding an apron and tying it around her waist. "I know; seems to run so stereotypical, but my dad the dentist absolutely adores cooking. Likes to see how cordon bleu he can get with minimal ingredients. I love both my parents, but I really am Daddy's girl, so I learned to cook too." She smiled. "Besides, it gives me a chance to be with you in here. So, what's on the menu?"

"Food," Harry laughed. "I was going to make something that would cook fact, probably with beef. A stir-fry, I guess. If you have ideas, though, I will agree to assist the true master... well... mistress of the kitchen." He bowed low before her, both of them laughing.

"Gods, it'll be hours before we eat if they're going to be like that in there," Draco's voice came through the half-open door.

"C'mon, you two - cook now; snog later!" Ron laughed.

A short time later, Hermione proved that she truly had learned well at her father's knee, so to speak. She had taken Harry's stir-fry idea and turned it into a meal that Aragorn commented was fit for royalty. She blushed, and Gandalf's eyes twinkled.

The night passed fairly uneventfully, with Aragorn reporting in the morning that during his watch, wolves had apparently attempted to get into the tent, but with the only entry being that door, they had been less than successful. They had disappeared some time before dawn. Breakdown of the tent was careful, in case the wolves were still around, but uneventful.

They travelled quickly once they were en route, at Gandalf's request. "There have been wolves, and I fear that we will not have this ease of camping again this trip. We must reach the gates before sunset. Aragorn has not travelled this way, and I only once, long ago."

Hermione pulled out the map while Harry performed the Four-point spell, verifying north. "Where are we, Gandalf?" she asked. He looked briefly and pointed. "So we need to head basically south-west to get there, right?" When he nodded, she said, "Well then, since Harry has so nicely found us north, we go that way," pointing south-east.

They walked for some time, Gandalf taking point as usual, but with Gimli alongside him, so eager was the Dwarf to reach Moria. It was a difficult trek, and they stopped occasionally for Gandalf to listen. It was near noon when Gimli located the path they had searched for. Once on the path, they continued to trudge, late into the afternoon, finally coming to the Walls of Moria. "We must climb if we are to reach the Doors," Gandalf said. "I am thankful that we have not had a pack-pony, for we would be forced to abandon it soon."

The day was drawing to its end when the Company climbed the slopes and reached the side of a rather unwholesome looking lake. They continued to hurry to reach the point that Gandalf was aiming for, which was still a mile or two further ahead. They hugged the wall along the narrow, rock-strewn path, but made excellent time. A mile southward they came across holly trees. Stumps and dead boughs were rotting in the shallows, the remains of old thickets. But close under the cliff stood two great holly trees, still living, with roots that stretched from wall to water; they stood as if sentinel pillars at the end of some great road. The wall between them was blank.

"Well, here we are at last!" Gandalf said.