Harry Potter and the One Ring of Power

Chapter Three---Meetings at Rivendell

In the next few days, the four Hogwarts students found themselves meeting a great many people. Among others, they were introduced to Aragorn son of Arathorn, a tall, dark, saturnine man who had escorted the four hobbits from near their home in a place called the "Shire" to the very borders of Rivendell. The hobbits had disappeared right in front of his eyes, and he still couldn't quite believe what he had seen.

"It was the most extraordinary thing I had ever seen," he told Harry. "We had just won through the Fords, with the Black Riders of Mordor on our heels, when all of a sudden, Frodo and the other hobbits vanished with a bright flash of light! At first, we suspected some trick of Mordor, but it was soon plain to see that the Riders were as puzzled as we were. Then a glittering green skull appeared in the sky, with a snake sticking out of the mouth as though it were a horrible tongue."

"That's the Dark Mark---the Dark Lord's way of showing that he's been at work," murmured Hermione. "He---and his followers, the Death Eaters---sent it into the sky over places where they had been killing people or doing other horrible things."

Draco Malfoy's face twisted. "I should know," he whispered. "I can still see it, in the air over Malfoy Manor, when the Aurors found me there in the ruins."

Aragorn was obviously very curious about what all this byplay meant, but he ignored it. "In any case, when we saw that, and saw that the Nine Riders were just as surprised and confused as we were, we knew that Gandalf would need to know. When we were sure the Riders were gone, we spurred for Rivendell to tell Gandalf, Glorfindel and Elrond."

Hermione looked questioningly at Aragorn. "Excuse me, Aragorn, but you've referred to the 'Nine Riders.' Who or what are they, and why would they be after the Ring?"

Aragorn was obviously startled that anybody wouldn't know, and equally startled to be questioned by a woman. He gave Hermione a searching look, as though seeing her for the first time. "The Nine Riders, Miss Granger, are great kings of Men, from the old times. They were given rings by Sauron, rings controlled by the Great Ring that he lost, and have been warped into his most terrible servants. They cannot die, unless Sauron himself is destroyed. Their great weapon is fear, and only the mightiest can stand against them. They give off cold and despair."

"Think dementors, times about a thousand, Hermione," put in Ron. Hermione looked at him in utter surprise. He held up a book. "Hey, you aren't the only one who studies. Since we got here, I've been reading up on everything I can find about this whole situation. These Nine Riders are to dementors what dementors are to---to boggarts."

"You've got the right idea, Mr. Weasley," interjected Gandalf. Harry jumped, startled, as the four from Hogwarts turned to see Gandalf standing behind them. "According to Albus, 'dementors' are the undying spirits of dark wizards, trapped in the world of the living, feeding off the souls of their victims. The Nine do not feed---their Rings give them their sustenance---but other than that, and the fact that they are peerless warriors, they are much like your world's dementors."

"Oh, joy," muttered Ron. "Dementors! That's all we bloody need, isn't it? Dementors!"

"Are you afraid?" Gandalf leaned close, looking deep into Ron's eyes. "You can turn back at any time, Mr. Weasley, and nobody will think the worse of you. The path you now tread will lead you into places far deeper and more perilous than you can easily imagine, and even I, Gandalf the Grey, would hesitate before going where you and your friends intend to go."

Ron turned white. From somewhere within him, he visibly summoned courage; Harry watched with admiration. "No," whispered Ron, and then, more loudly: "No! I won't turn back! Harry's been my friend for years, and if I turned back, well---" He drew a deep breath. "Well, if I turned back now, if I abandoned Harry, somebody would survive. Somebody wearing my body, answering to my name. I don't know if it would be me. I don't know if I would even like that person."

Gandalf's eyes widened. He turned to the others. Hermione straightened, looking Gandalf straight in the eye, with a touch of the manner Harry remembered from Potions classes, when she had stood up to Professor Snape. "I'm coming along. I'm going with Harry the whole way. Everything Ron said about what would happen if he turned back---well, you can just apply it to me, too! I'm not saying I'm not scared---I'd have to be a right idiot to not be scared---" her voice nearly broke, and then she went on, "but I couldn't live with myself if I let them face danger alone!" Tears were flowing down her cheeks, but her voice was steady, as she continued: "They've been the best friends I've ever had, and I'd rather die with them than live without them!"

Harry and Ron looked at Hermione as though she'd just grown another head, or kissed Professor Snape. Harry was deeply touched. For ten of the first eleven years of his life, he had never had any friends, and on some level, he had accepted that he deserved this. All the kindness he'd received in the wizarding world, all the adulation for being 'the famous Harry Potter, the Boy who Lived,' had not quite convinced him down deep that he was loved, that he was a worthwhile person, that he amounted to anything. Seeing his friends standing up to a danger that they admitted terrified them, for his sake, meant more to him than he could have ever expressed in words.

"And what of you, Mr. Malfoy?" asked Gandalf, turning that searching gaze on Draco Malfoy. Harry watched curiously. Seeing Draco Malfoy as anything but an enemy and future Death Eater had been a shock, and he was very interested to see what Malfoy would say to the chance to call the whole thing off.

If Draco was impressed by Gandalf, he hid it well. He leaned against one of the curiously-carved pillars of Rivendell, as relaxed-looking as a cat lying in a warm sunbeam, and smiled lazily. "You heard the others. They're all Gryffindors, that is to say, gallant fools who'll rush off to throw themselves into the first dragon's mouth they come to. They need me along, to keep them alive." Aragorn looked at him in puzzlement. "I'm a Slytherin. We take a different view of things than Gryffindors do. Less idealistic, more pragmatic. To a Slytherin, winning isn't everything---it's the only thing. With me along, they have a better chance to get through to the Cracks of Doom."

"You haven't said that you're doing this because they're your friends," observed Gandalf. Draco shrugged.

"They aren't my friends. Potter, Granger and the Weasel have been at odds with me since we started school. We've done our best to make each others' lives miserable, and I'm quite sure that if I get killed here, they'll not regret it a bit. Still, although I won't say I like them----" his voice suddenly hardened, and he straightened, staring at Gandalf as though the aged wizard was an enemy---"I hate the people who murdered my whole family a thousand times worse, and if helping them destroy the Ring hurts my family's murderers, I'll help them!"

Harry, Ron and Hermione stared at Draco in utter shock. They'd always been on opposite sides from him, whether in classes, at Quidditch, or in extracurricular activities. This was a side of him they'd never seen. Secretly, Harry had to admit that Draco's help would be very useful; nobody had ever said that he was not a very skillful wizard for somebody his age, and his greater familiarity with Dark Magic through lifelong exposure from his father would probably come in handy.

Gandalf and Aragorn seemed to be willing to accept Draco's reasons for staying. "Indeed, one of the Dark Lord's worst weaknesses is that he raises up enemies against himself, merely by being himself," murmured Gandalf. Straightening, Gandalf went on: "In any case, we've got much to discuss here, and there are many people you should meet."

They were introduced to Bilbo Baggins, the uncle of the hobbit who had borne the Ring and been sucked into their world by Voldemort. Never having met a hobbit before, they looked at this short, elderly person with his bare, furry feet curiously. He studied them as intently as they did him, his shrewd eyes twinkling behind his wire-rimmed spectacles.

"My poor nephew," sighed Bilbo. "I should have taken this journey on myself, rather than putting him into peril. Thanks to me, he's now in a madhouse, and not even in his own world. Gandalf says that this 'St. Mungo's' is very good at dealing with magical maladies. I just hope they can restore my nephew and his friends to sanity." He shook his head, and Harry could see a tear trickling down his cheek. "If I had known what trouble that Ring was, I'd have let Gollum keep it."

"What is Gollum?" asked Hermione. "Or who is Gollum? Did you get the Ring from him?"

"Gollum's a twisted, evil creature that lived near a lake in an underground cavern. I found myself near his home, and happened to find the Ring where he had hidden it. Not knowing what it was, I put it in my pocket, and found out later that it could make me invisible. That came in handy many times before that trip was through, I can tell you!"

Harry grinned, and reached into his nearby pack. Pulling out his father's precious Invisibility Cloak, he showed it to the aged hobbit. Then, with a flourish, he threw it over Draco Malfoy, who happened to be standing closest by. "I don't need a ring to make myself invisible, do I?" Bilbo gasped in awe.

Draco's voice came from where he'd been standing. "If you're quite finished using me as a visual---or invisual---aid, would you take your cloak back, Potter?" Hermione and Ron snickered.

"At last---the invisible Malfoy. Too bad the cloak doesn't make him inaudible as well, but I suppose we can't have everything," commented Ron, as Hermione sighed stagily. Draco pulled the cloak off and tossed it back to Harry, grinning rather nastily.

"You're just jealous that I'm better-looking than you are, Ron. Not that that's too difficult to be, but---" Harry cut him off just as it looked like they were warming up for a really good quarrel among themselves.

"Enough! If it makes you feel better, Malfoy, I'm sorry I did that without asking you first." Draco gawped at Harry in utter fuddlement. Then his expression changed to one none of the other three had ever seen before.

"You know, Potter---I think that's the first time I ever heard you apologize to me. For what it's worth, I regret a lot of the quarreling we did back at Hogwarts; all I can say in my own defense was that I was younger then, and still thought that my father hung the sun and the moon. I'd also always heard that Mud---er, I mean Muggle-borns," he amended hastily as Hermione sent him a glare, "were a threat to the wizard community because they had loyalties outside of it. Apparently I was wrong, or I was taught wrong. In any case, we're a long, long ways from Hogwarts, and keeping up childish inter-house rivalries, or squabbles about who's more pureblooded than whom, strikes me as stupid."

Neither Harry, Ron or Hermione could think of anything to say to this extraordinary statement. For a few seconds, Harry allowed himself to think of how much it must have cost Draco to make it. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the strange feeling he was havingÂ…how could he sympathize with Draco Malfoy?

At last, everybody who was needed had gathered, and they went in to dinner. The food on offer was at least as abundant and delicious as it was at Hogwarts, and Harry found himself quite enjoying his meal; the spices used were ones he could not identify, but the overall effect was incredibly satisfying. As he carved a slice of roast for Hermione, who was sitting between him and Ron and quite enjoying the attention, he smiled at the thought of how Dudley Dursley would have reacted to this feast. He'd probably have hogged everything in sight, and eaten until his belly was about to burst. Savoring the delicate flavors, Harry sipped at a glass of excellent mead and listened to the elven singers. Their beautiful, otherworldly song discouraged conversation during the meal itself, leaving everybody free to concentrate on the food.

After the songs ended, Harry found himself talking to some of the other people seated near him. Bilbo introduced Harry and his companions to a couple of the odd-looking people---like short, very wide, big-boned men with deep voices and long, luxuriant beards---that he had noticed before. "This is my old friend and companion, Gloin, from the Lonely Mountain. He was one of the thirteen dwarves that I accompanied to the Mountain, long ago."

The old dwarf bowed politely. "Gloin, at your services. This---"pointing at the younger dwarf standing by, "is my son, Gimli. We are here representing our King, Dain Ironfoot, and seeking counsel of Elrond and Gandalf."

Slightly intimidated by the dwarf's stern demeanor and deep, rumbling voice, Harry bowed, his companions following his lead a half-second later. "Harry Potter, son of James Potter, at your service, Gloin and Gimli." The others murmured their names and slight variants on the polite formula. Gloin and Bilbo nodded in satisfaction.

"What is this 'Lonely Mountain,' and where is it? Are all the people there dwarves?" asked Hermione. Gloin looked at her in approval. He clearly had no problem with women seeking knowledge.

"The Lonely Mountain is north and east of here, near Dale on the Long Lake, the other side of Mirkwood." Hermione nodded, fixing these facts in her capacious memory. "It is the great kingdom of Durin's Folk, the eldest of all the kinships of the dwarves. We were long ago driven from our old home, in Khazad-dum, which the elves call Moria, and settled in the Lonely Mountain. From the Lonely Mountain we were driven by the dragon Smaug, until by the efforts of some of our folk, aided by the good bowman Bard of Esgaroth and our friend Bilbo, Smaug was killed and our home was freed." Gloin stared at her shrewdly. "I see you love learning and knowledge, in the same way that my people love gold and gems and made-things. Perhaps you're wiser than we are---you need not worry about transporting or hiding your knowledge, and you can give of it endlessly and still have it all." Hermione blushed pink with pleasure. "Perhaps one day you can come to the Mountain, and we can go through the old records of my people's doings." Hermione's eyes lit up.

There were quite a few people there to meet---a young elf named Legolas, a son of the Elf-King of Mirkwood, stuck in Harry's mind, if only because of Bilbo's asides to him about how tough it had been for him, creeping invisibly around the Elf-King's halls while his dwarven companions had been imprisoned by the elves.

"That was a lonely time, Harry," the old hobbit said, shaking his head. "Wearing that ring for as long as I did got to be very uncomfortable, but I didn't dare take it off. I was the only hope my friends had of getting out of those dungeons."

"How did you do that?" asked Draco, admiringly. He had been fascinated by this story ever since Bilbo had begun it. "I know you were invisible, but that didn't help you open locked doors!"

Bilbo preened slightly, his eyes twinkling. "I got hold of some keys, got my friends out, and put them in barrels. We all floated down to Lake-town---that's not far from Dale---and the Lake-folk helped us." He looked up. "Hush---Legolas has something to say."

The elf was explaining to the company that the former bearer of the Ring, Gollum, had escaped from custody in Mirkwood. "We did not fail through lack of watchfulness, Aragorn, but rather over-kindness. We allowed Gollum out under guard occasionally; on the last such occasion, the creature climbed a tree and refused to come down. When darkness fell, dark creatures came from the forest and slew or drove off the guards that were set around the tree he had climbed, and when reinforcements had arrived, he was gone." Bilbo shook his head.

"I'm not happy about that," he muttered. "Gollum's one of the nastiest pieces of work you can find in a month of Sundays, and with his new friends he can get up to all sorts of mischief."

"Maybe he's dead," offered Ron. Bilbo shook his head.

"Much as I'd like to believe that, I don't think it's likely. He's apparently lived for centuries, and he's elusive and hard to kill. Aragorn had a dreadful time tracking him down, and only succeeded through luck."

At last, Gandalf called for quiet. When he had everybody's attention, he turned to Harry. "The time is here, Mr. Potter. Show us the Ring." Slowly, Harry pulled on the fine chain that held the Ring around his neck, and brought it out of his shirt. It glittered in the light, and Harry felt as though it was regarding him malevolently. Murmurs and gasps ran up and down the table.

"Isildur's Bane!" This comment came from a man that Harry hadn't met yet; he looked a little like he could have been a cousin of Aragorn's. He was staring at the Ring wide-eyed.

Gandalf nodded. "Indeed it is, Boromir. The same one Isildur cut from Sauron's hand, the same one that slipped from his hand and betrayed him to the orcs. Long lost, now found again." Boromir shook his head in wonder. "Bilbo Baggins, whom you've all met, held it for quite some time, and then passed to his nephew, Frodo. On his way here, Frodo was pulled into another world, by an evil wizard of that world who wanted the Ring for his own uses. The Ring was intercepted, and our friends here---" indicating Harry, Ron, Hermione and Draco, "have volunteered to bear it, at least for now."

Boromir's eyes lit up. "This Ring---it contains much of Sauron's own power. Would it be possible to use it to overthrow the Lord of Mordor, and free my country of Gondor from his threat forever?"

Gandalf shook his head, as Harry piped up: "If you could sense what I sense about this Ring, Boromir, you wouldn't ever say anything like that. I'm a wizard myself, if not as powerful as Gandalf. My friends and I can sense this thing's evil will. If we, or anybody, tried to claim it and use it as our own, we'd end up twisted and evil."

"Exactly," said Gandalf. "It's not widely known, but Gollum, of whom you've heard, was a hobbit once. He got the Ring by murder, and claimed it as his own for centuries. Even Bilbo here was beginning to feel the effects of the Ring by the time he gave it up---he didn't give it up easily, but he'd begun to feel very uneasy about it. He also wore and used it very little for most of his life, but even so, he began to feel---"

"Like butter spread over too much bread," supplied Bilbo. "The thing began to weigh on my mind---it seemed to be like an eye staring at me." He shook his head. "Gandalf tells me that one reason the Ring didn't affect me as badly as Gollum was because, in acquiring it, I pitied Gollum and spared his life. The other times the Ring had changed hands, it had done so with violence---Isildur cut it from Sauron's hand, it slipped from Isildur's finger and betrayed him to his killers, and Gollum killed his friend who had found it in the mud of the river."

"If you, or any of the Great and the Wise, tried using this Ring, in the end you'd be another Dark Lord. The only thing to do is to destroy it. We can't ship it over Sea; those who live there would not receive it, and as long as it exists, Sauron's power cannot be completely broken. It must be destroyed, and the only way to do that is to cast it into the fire where it was made---at Mount Doom, Oroduin, in Sauron's own country of Mordor."

"That would be a perilous journey." Boromir looked doubtful. "And who will go there---go into the heart of the Dark Lord's own country, to destroy this Ring? I'd be willing to take the chance, for the sake of Gondor." Boromir looked around the table. "But who can bear the Ring? These four?" He snorted. "Why, they are but children, and one of them, a mere girl!"

Harry gave Boromir a furious glare. More impulsive than Harry, Ron snapped: "Children, are we? Can children of 'Gondor,' whatever that may be, do this?" Pointing his wand at the Gondorian, he snapped "Expelliarmus!" Boromir stared in shock as his sword flew from the sheath and into the air, to be caught by Ron. He looked at the weapon. "Not a bad toad-jabber, this. Want it back?" He handed it back to its owner, smiling nastily. "Swords are all right, for people who can't really protect themselves, but give me a wand and I'll make sure that anybody bothering me or my friends wishes he had never been born!"

In a shocked silence, Ron sat back down, his friends smiling at him. Draco Malfoy leaned across to slap Ron's back gently. "Way to go, Weasley! Don't let the Muggles push us around!" Ron grinned at Draco, as Harry reflected on the vagaries of human nature. Ron and Draco had, as Draco had said, been at each other's throats since their first meeting. However, being lumped in as "children" unworthy of consideration had given those old enemies a common enemy. Ron was less proud of his pure wizard ancestry than Draco had been, but being sneered at by Muggles irritated him, too.

Hermione gave Boromir a poisonously sweet smile; had she smiled that way at Harry, Harry would have been backing away and making nice. The last time he had seen her looking at anybody that way, she had ended up turning a Slytherin girl's hair green for calling her a Mudblood. "Before you start in on the fact that I'm a girl, let's get something straight, Lord Boromir. I'm a girl. I've been one all my life. I wouldn't change that for anything---where I come from, we have a saying: 'Girls rule, boys drool.' Magic doesn't care whether I have to squat when I pee, and courage doesn't only come to men. If anything, I'm probably better at spellcasting than Ron is. Would you like a demonstration?" She raised her wand, smiling ominously, and Gandalf intervened hastily.

"That won't be necessary, Miss Granger. I'm sure that Lord Boromir didn't mean any harm or any disrespect to you. You and your three friends have volunteered already to carry the Ring to Mount Doom. Nobody here can doubt your courage." Gandalf looked around, to meet averted gazes everywhere. "I'll be going along, as well. Who else wishes to accompany us?"

After a little more discussion, the composition of the group was settled. Besides Harry, Ron, Hermione, Draco and Gandalf, it included representatives from the Dwarves of the Lonely Mountain, and the Elves of Mirkwood. Gimli son of Gloin and Legolas Greenleaf would be accompanying the company, as would Aragorn son of Arathorn and, to Harry's surprise, Boromir.

"I'm the son of the Ruling Steward of Gondor, Mr. Potter," explained Boromir. "We've been the main shield of the West against Mordor for centuries, and I'm willing to do anything to see that threat taken away from my city forever."

A feeling of foreboding came over Harry, and he sighed. "Well," he said into a sudden silence, "we've decided who's going along. The sooner we get this started, the sooner we'll be done. I'm for bed, myself. I want to make an early start---the days aren't getting longer, and I want to be on the road by daybreak."

"Harry Potter is wise," said Elrond, as the company arose. "Albus Dumbledore chose well, when he chose his Ringbearer."