Harry Potter and the One Ring of Power

Chapter Seven---The Lady in the Wood

After an unguessable time, Harry finally stopped weeping. He sat up and then stood, noting in passing that he was weak and shaky with reaction. The others looked as bad as he felt. Aragorn and Boromir both looked as though they had lost their fathers, Legolas was shaking and looked nauseous, and even the tough dwarf Gimli had an expression on his face appropriate to someone seeing a train bearing down on him. All of them were chalky-pale, and blinking uncomfortably in the sunlight as their eyes re-adjusted to normal light after so long underground.

Of the Hogwarts students, Hermione looked the worst by far. The Ennervation she had received in Moria was wearing off, and she looked very bad. Now that they had light, with the noonday sun shining through a few bright, wispy clouds, he could see that there was an ugly lump on one side of her head, and the hair on that side was clotted and thick with dark blood. Peering into her eyes, he was relieved to see that her pupils were at least of the same size; he hadn't liked the thought of having to deal with a concussion. The others didn't look any better; Ron had a thousand-yard stare, and Draco was sitting with his knees tucked up under his chin, trembling violently.

"How are you feeling, Hermione?" Harry murmured. Even though her pupils were the same size, she seemed to have trouble focussing. At his words, she seemed to snap out of it---she stared at him wildly for a second, then bent over, retching helplessly. When her stomach was finally empty, she collapsed on the ground, sobbing. The sound of her sorrow cut Harry's soul to the quick; it was a racking, horrible sound like nothing Harry had ever heard from her before. Harry tentatively reached out and stroked her. She felt cold and sweaty to the touch.

"Do any of you know first aid?" he asked. At this, Draco seemed to come out of his trance, getting shakily to his feet and staggering over to see what was wrong. Hermione submitted quietly to his gentle probing, rather to Harry's surprise. He was no less surprised by Draco's air of competence and cool expertise as he checked Hermione over, taking her wrist to time her pulse, peering into her eyes and looking closely at the injury to her head.

"I didn't know you knew anything about that, Draco," said Harry. In a way, he felt a little jealous of Draco for being able to at least look as though he knew what he was doing when Hermione---his friend, not Draco's---needed help. Draco looked up, his eyebrow quirking up in a sardonic smile for a second. He looked more like the old Draco Malfoy than he had in some time.

"We aren't in all our classes together, Potter, and you didn't take Healing Magic. My father told me to take it---he probably figured that the Death Eaters could use a trained mediwizard. Before they teach us any spells at all, they check us out thoroughly on Muggle-style first aid, if only so that we know what we're dealing with---it also comes in handy in situations where spells don't work or are a bad idea." Dropping Hermione's wrist, Draco gave Harry a worried look. "I don't like the look of her---she isn't concussed, as far as I can tell, but she looks awfully shocky. I'd like to get a real mediwizard---or a Muggle E.M.T. or M.D---in on this." Ron bit his lip. Harry knew that for Draco Malfoy to wish for Muggle help was a sign that things were very bad, indeed.

By this time, the others had begun to recover. Aragorn sobbed something about how he had warned Gandalf about Moria, and Gimli cursed Caradhras' storms for forcing them into the dwarven ruins in the first place. Shakily, the Company got to its feet, and moved down the valley. "We've got to get away from here---the orcs won't come out by day, but they have been known to chase people for many miles by night, if they've got a fallen leader to avenge. Night falls quickly at this time of year!"

As the grief-stricken company moved down the valley, they passed a deep, clear lake. Gimli said "That's the Mirrormere---Gandalf hoped I'd be glad to see it. I now see it, but I'm not glad." Some ways farther along, as the company followed a long-neglected stone road, they came to an inscribed pillar standing beside the road. Gimli stopped and pointed. "That's Durin's Stone! It marks the point where Durin saw his crown of stars, in the depths of Mirrormere! I've got to look!"

"All right, but hurry! We've got to take the most advantage of daylight we can! The moon's not going to be much help, and orcs operate well at night," snapped Aragorn. Gimli turned and went toward the pillar.

"Come on, Mr. Potter! This is something you need to see!" Curious, Harry followed the dwarf, his classmates behind him. Uncharacteristically, Hermione was lagging behind; normally, such a chance to see something educational would have had her leading the rest of them. Gimli pointed to the pillar; Harry looked at the carvings on it, but couldn't make them out, even though he had found he could read the local language---the pillar was very weathered and the writings were too faint to see.

When Harry and his friends stooped over the dark water, at first they couldn't see anything, but gradually, Harry's eyes adjusted and he saw the mountains reflected in the water, and deep in the reflected daylight sky, a formation of seven stars. However, neither he nor his companions cast reflections that he could see. Gimli sighed. "Oh, Kheled-zaram, fair and wonderful! There lies Durin's crown, until he wakes!" He bowed to the water, and Harry imitated him, before they turned away.

As they moved along the road, they passed a stream. Although Aragorn warned them that it was icy cold, Harry and the other Hogwarts students took the chance of filling their water bottles. Draco cast a quick spell to make sure that the water itself was pure, and reported: "It's glacial runoff, and quite pure. These bottles hold a lot more than you'd think, looking at them from the outside, but we ran through a lot of water in Moria." He tipped the bottle back, drinking deeply. "Gods, that hits the spot!" The drink seemed to do him good, and Harry did the same thing. The icy water hit his system and seemed to put new life into him. Aragorn watched in puzzlement.

"I had always thought that drinking cold water was bad for the system," he remarked, as Ron, Harry and Draco came back to the rest of the party, handing Hermione her bottle. Harry shook his head absently, watching Hermione carefully. She stowed the bottle back in its place, but she was moving slowly, and still seemed very vague.

"Not where we come from, Aragorn. We sweated off a lot of water in Moria, and that fight also took a great deal out of our systems. If you don't get enough water into yourself, you'll damage yourself," answered Ron. Aragorn looked slightly miffed at being corrected by someone so much younger, with so much less experience in wilderness travel, but kept his thoughts to himself.

Before them, they could see a huge forest stretching out. Legolas looked at it longingly. "Lothlorien! Fairest of all the elven realms!" he murmured. "I'd give anything to be there in springtime, with the mallorn-trees blooming!"

"I'd be glad to be there, even in winter, but it's miles away. We've got to pick up our speed," answered Aragorn. He led them on as fast as they could go, until Hermione was stumbling and staggering with the effort of keeping up, and the others were grey with fatigue. Finally, several miles down the road, Aragorn called a halt. They had found a sheltered dell with a stream through it.

"Forgive me, Miss Granger," he said, taking Hermione and setting her down gently on a rock, "but haste seemed urgent to me. I should have remembered your injury. Can you kindle a fire?" he asked the other Hogwarts students. Legolas and Gimli gathered fuel as Harry got ready to cast the fire-spell Hermione normally used. Aragorn examined her injury, his touch gentle and knowing.

When the fire was going, Aragorn pulled out his pouch, and extracted a bindle with some dried leaves in it. "This is athelas, or kingsfoil in the common tongue," he explained to Harry, Ron and Draco, who were watching him like hawks. "It's dried, so it won't be as effective, but it should do your friend's injury some good." When they had hot water, he soaked the leaves in it, and gently bathed Hermione's hurts with the resultant herbal infusion. Just smelling it made Harry feel better. Hermione gasped and squeaked, but as Aragorn went on, she improved visibly, color coming back to her cheeks. All of them also got a chance to drink a mouthful of the athelas tea, and Harry felt a great deal better after it---good enough to realize that he was ravenously hungry. He pulled some of their dwindling supply of food out, and began to cook up a meal, noticing as he did so that everybody, except Hermione, started to perk up and take an interest in eating.

After they had eaten, they destroyed all trace that they had been there, and went along their way. Hermione was still not up to her usual self, Harry thought, but at least she wasn't slowing them down. Gimli and Harry were walking at the rear of the company, as night fell around them. When Harry asked if Gimli heard anything unusual, Gimli smiled at Harry in the dusk.

"I don't hear a thing but the wind." He stroked his beard. "I hope that means the orcs aren't coming after us; they'll sometimes chase people for miles if they've got a leader to avenge. I'm hoping that they weren't interested in anything more than driving us from Khazad-dum." His expression darkened. "Although that was enough of an affront right there---how those filth dare to desecrate my ancestors' halls, I'll never understand. Durin's Bane---" Remembering what had happened to Gandalf, Gimli broke off.

Although Harry respected the dwarf, he wasn't quite so sure they weren't being followed. Again and again, he thought he heard the fall of soft bare feet, pattering along behind them, stopping a few seconds after they stopped to listen. When he whirled and shone his Everlight torch along the path they had come, he thought he saw two glowing points of light for a second. "What was that? Are we being followed?" asked Gimli. He bent and put his ear to the ground. "I hear nothing but the night-speech of rock and stone, Harry. We'd better hurry along." Harry followed, still feeling uneasy, as though eyes he couldn't see were on him.

* * * * * * *

Some time later, they found themselves facing a huge shadowy wood, as the cold wind blew up the valley. Harry thought that it was what he had heard called a "lazy wind"---instead of going around him, it tried to blow right through him. He huddled deeper in his cloak, envying anybody who wasn't as skinny as he was; the wind sucked the heat out of his body quickly.

"Lothlorien!" said Aragorn, as proudly as if he had invented it. "Alas that it is winter! This is the safest place for us to stop---the virtue of the Elves is on this place. They dwell deep in this forest, though, far from the northern border, where we are."

Gimli looked skeptical, but the one that spoke up was Boromir. "I'd rather we went another way. In Gondor, they say that few enter these woods, and of those few that come out again, none are unscathed."

Aragorn scowled. "Try unchanged, Lord Boromir, and you'll be closer to the truth. However, if they're speaking evil of the Lady of the Woods, things have changed for the worse in Gondor. In any case, there's no other road---unless you want to try going back to Moria, or swim the Great River."

"Lead on, then!" sighed Boromir. "I advised against Moria, if you'll recall. If we must enter the Golden Wood, I'll come---but it's dangerous."

"Only to those who are evil, or who bring evil," answered Aragorn.

* * * * * * * * *

Some ways into the forest, the Company halted. They had passed over a stream called Nimrodel, and Legolas had told the tale of an elven-maid who had had the same name as the stream. Harry hadn't really understood all the story, but hearing it in Legolas' musical voice had cheered him somewhat. Legolas also explained the custom of the elves of Lorien of sleeping in the trees. "That's why they are called 'Galadrim,' which means---care to tell them, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Tree-people," said Draco. He looked at the trees. "These don't look like they're really big enough to sleep in."

"No, these aren't the ones that are used for sleeping in, Mr. Malfoy," said Legolas. "Those trees are much bigger, and are deeper in Lorien than we are now. The people of Lorien didn't build fortifications, or need them, before the Shadow came." He led the company in a different direction, deeper into the woods, away from the path they had followed. Finally, he came to a stand of huge trees. Harry thought that the smallest of them were ten feet in diameter through the trunk---how high they went he couldn't begin to guess. "I'll climb up," said Legolas. As he touched the trunk, a voice rang out, commandingly.

"Daro!" Legolas stepped back, keeping his hands in plain sight.

"Easy does it! Don't move, or speak!" hissed Legolas. A burst of silvery laughter came from overhead, and Harry heard words in an unknown, musical tongue. Draco cocked his head, listening, as Legolas replied slowly.

"Those are elves, Potter," explained Draco at Harry's questioning glance, "and they say that we breathe so loudly they could shoot us in the dark. They've been tracking us ever since we entered this forest. I---sort of knew---they were around, but didn't want to say anything as long as they didn't show themselves." He listened again. "They heard Legolas' voice, and knew he was one of their kinfolk, so they didn't stop us. They want you to climb up, Potter---you and Legolas." Another burst of unintelligible, musical speech, and Draco nodded. "Ah---they've figured out that I can understand them. They want to see me, too." He turned to the others. "The rest of you best stay right here. You're covered---there's archers all around us."

A ladder made of some sort of silvery rope, glowing faintly in the dark, came dangling down, and Harry went up, following Legolas, and with Draco right behind him. As he climbed, he looked back at his friends, giving Ron and Hermione what he hoped was a confident smile in return for their worried expressions. The branches of the mallorn-tree stretched out nearly horizontally, and finally Harry found himself standing on a platform among them.

Legolas was sitting amid three other elves wearing grey clothes that looked to be tinted to blend into the color of the bark. One of them held up a light, examining Harry and Draco. "Welcome," he said, speaking slowly. "Please pardon us, but we seldom use any language but our own. We seldom deal with outsiders---even our brethren of the north in Mirkwood seldom come. here. I am Haldir, and these are my brothers, Rumil and Orophin." Harry bowed, wishing bitterly that he spoke the elven tongues instead of Parseltongue. Draco followed suit, and spoke for a few minutes in the same musical language Harry had heard earlier. The elves' eyes widened at this.

"Legolas was right---your friend does speak our language fluently. If anything, his accent is a bit more elegant than ours. My only criticism is that his word-choice is somewhat archaic." Draco grinned triumphantly. Haldir went on: "Since Legolas is with you, we are willing to admit you into Lorien. How many of you are there?"

"Well, there's me, and Draco Malfoy here, and our friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger---we're all mages. Then, Legolas, of course, and Aragorn, and Boromir---they're both men. Aragorn's a Ranger, and Boromir's some sort of lord or other from Gondor---or so he says." Legolas lifted an eyebrow at Harry's qualifying statement, but held his peace.

"That's seven of you. We counted eight, and were expecting nine." Haldir looked grave. "Who is the one you haven't mentioned?"

"He's Gimli, a dwarf from the Lonely Mountain." At Draco's announcement, the elves looked shocked and somber. They muttered to themselves in their own language, and Draco turned to Harry, his face grave.

"This doesn't look good, Potter, from what I can hear. They do not like dwarves here---not one little bit." Draco moved his arm slightly, and his wand fell into his hand. "Get ready for a scrap." Harry unobtrusively reached for his wand as well; he didn't want to fight the elves, who, after all, were on the same side, but he didn't want to abandon the stout-hearted Gimli, either.

After a low-voiced colloquy between the elves, Haldir spoke again. "We will allow the dwarf to pass, but he's got to be blindfolded. Aragorn and Legolas will be responsible for his behavior. Right now, we've got to get your people off the ground. We've seen orcs marching north toward Moria, and danger's not far behind you. You, Harrypotter,"---Harry did not bother to correct the elf---"and your friends may use this platform for the night; the others may use a platform in the next tree over." Harry relaxed slightly; he had not been looking forward to a fight with the elves, in their own country, at night, with Hermione injured. Beside him, he heard the tiniest sigh of relief from Draco, as he discreetly made his wand disappear.

When Ron came up, helping Hermione, he told Harry: "We've brought our packs up. Aragorn wanted to hide them in drifts of leaves, but we felt it would be safer for them up here." After eating food offered them by the elves, the four Hogwarts students stretched out on fur rugs provided by Haldir, and were soon deeply asleep.

* * * * * * * *

Later that night, Harry awoke, wondering what sort of sanitary facilities the elves used. All thought of such matters was driven out of his mind when he heard a harsh laugh from below, and the tramp of heavy-booted feet. He rolled over, to see that Ron and Draco were awake as well. An elf appeared at the entrance to the platform.

"What is it?" asked Harry sleepily. The elf pulled up the rope-ladder, whispering "Yrch!" Silent as the wind, he disappeared. Harry looked at Draco, and was not reassured; Draco looked rather worried.

"Orcs?" muttered Draco, careful not to wake Hermione, who was tossing and muttering in her sleep. "That's all we bloody well need, isn't it?" He pulled out his wand, and Harry and Ron did likewise. Harry began to get worried; he knew that orcs could track by scent as well as dogs could, but unlike dogs, they could climb trees easily if they wanted to do so. Even though he couldn't hear the orcs, Harry's feeling of being in danger grew and grew. When he went to the opening, he was sure he heard something at the foot of the tree, many feet below them, and that it was no elf.

Whatever it was, it scrabbled at the tree-bark, and then began to climb the trunk. Harry could see two pale eyes looking up toward him, and he wished that his Everlight torch had not been packed away. Something touched the trunk, and whatever had been climbing slipped away rapidly.

Haldir came back up. "It was orcs. A large company of them have crossed the Nimrodel." In the dim light of the moon, Harry could see that the elf was puzzled. "I also saw something---something I have never seen before---climbing this tree. It was too small to be one of your company, and it vanished the second it knew I was there.

"We've lured the orcs deeper into the forest, and none of them will ever return---Orophin's gone on ahead to alert our people. Sleep now, while you can!"

* * * * * * * *

When dawn came, Harry and his schoolmates awoke, and were guided along their way by Haldir. They crossed a deep, fast stream by the use of ropes, walking along on one while holding another. Hermione was in worse and worse shape, and finally Aragorn took her on his back for the crossing. Draco took Harry and Ron aside when they were on the other side.

"Look, you two---I really, really don't like the way Hermione's looking. She's still very shocky. As soon as we get where we're going, we've got to get help of some sort for her. I'd love to have her back at Hogwarts---Madam Pomfrey'd have her up and dancing the kazatsky in no time flat---but we're not there." A ghost of a grin flitted across Draco's face, startling Harry. "That is, Madam Pomfrey'd have her up and dancing the kazatsky, if she only knew how to dance the kazatsky."

Haldir came up to them. "It's now time---we're entering the most secret parts of Lorien. Very few strangers are allowed here at all. As was agreed, I'm going to blindfold the dwarf. The rest of you may walk free for a while, until we get farther in."

"You're going to what?" gasped Harry. Behind him, he heard Ron mutter something that would have displeased his mother a great deal, and Draco drew himself up to his full height, generations of aristocratic Malfoys looking out through his eyes. Hermione was still not tracking very well, but Harry didn't care for the look she was giving Haldir at all. Unobtrusively, all four Hogwarts students drew their wands, holding them close by their sides and trusting to the wands' non-weaponish look to fool the elves.

Gimli was no less displeased. "I will not walk blindfold, like a prisoner or a beggar, and I'm no spy. My people have never dealt with the Enemy, and I'm as loyal to the company as anybody here."

Haldir looked stern. "It's our law---I've already stretched a lot of points just letting you come this far."

Gimli snarled: "Either no blindfold, or I turn back and seek my own land, even if I die alone in the wilderness."

Harry didn't like the look of the situation at all, as Gimli argued back and forth with Haldir. When he was told that he couldn't go back, that the paths were guarded and he couldn't cross the streams, Gimli finally drew his axe, and the elves bent their bows.

"Expelliarmus!" shouted Harry, and the axe and bows flew from their owners' hands. They landed near the Hogwarts students, and Ron stood over them, his wand out and his expression warning of consequences to anybody stupid enough to meddle with him.

"Now, Haldir, will you listen to us?" snapped Draco. "We've been a fellowship for quite some time now, and all of us have pulled together for the common goal. You apparently thought that we were children, as Boromir, here, did back at Rivendell. That's an easy mistake to make, but you've now seen how mistaken it is. Either none of us will be blindfolded, or all will be!" He crossed his arms on his chest and stuck out his chin, pride and confidence radiating from him.

:"Would you all go blindfold, for the sake of this---this dwarf?" asked Haldir in wonder. Aragorn suddenly shouted laughter.

"We would look foolish, wouldn't we? Still and all, I think Mr. Malfoy's suggestion of all of us being treated alike is a good one. Yes, even you, Legolas---it'll go easier on Gimli if we're all blindfolded."

"I'm an elf! I---" Legolas broke off, paling, as Ron and Draco raised their wands and pointed them at him. He had apparently not forgotten the fights in Moria. Raising his hands in an appeasing gesture, he stepped backward. "You're not serious---you are serious!" Aragorn stepped forward, only to stop as Harry raised his wand. The ranger blenched slightly---he hadn't forgotten, either.

Harry smiled rather grimly. "I'll agree to be blindfolded, if anybody must be." He winked at Draco. "As at least one of us will testify, sight's not my strongest suit." Draco smothered a snicker.

Blindfolds were produced, and soon all the company was blindfolded. Putting his hand on Haldir's shoulder, and feeling Ron's hand on his, Harry began to go forward. Pitching his voice low, he warned: "Haldir, if I trip, you'll end up on a lily pad."

As it turned out, the paths were smooth and straight, and none of them had any trouble. Legolas complained bitterly about missing the sight of Lorien. Haldir explained that the times were dangerous enough that the Galadrim had no choice but to be wary. Even with that, the feeling of peace that Harry had noticed, when he first crossed the river, grew deeper and deeper; he thought it was rather like what it must be like in a Zen garden somewhere in Japan. The air he breathed seemed sweeter than any he ever remembered---or was it just the contrast with the smoky, close air of Moria?

That evening, Haldir received a report from some elven warriors. The intruding orcs had been destroyed, and a strange creature had been seen, prowling around and snuffling. "All of you, even the dwarf, are to walk free. The Lady's aware of who and what you are---apparently new messages came through from Rivendell." They unbound Gimli's eyes first, apologizing, which gratified Harry considerably; he knew how much it hurt to be singled out.

When his own eyes were unbound, Harry fished his glasses out of his pocket and put them on. Gazing around himself, he gasped in wonder at the beauty of the scene. While the others sat down on the ground, grateful for a rest, Harry looked around for a while, groping for words to describe what he saw. The whole place looked as though it had newly come from the hands of a wise Creator---the colors seemed brighter, the air seemed sweeter and purer, and everything was in perfect harmony. There was an air of deep peace and timelessness over everything. In a way, he thought that even when he was gone, Harry Potter from England would still be there.

Ron and Draco felt it too. "This is like---being inside a song, or something like that," murmured Ron. Draco was transfigured by their surroundings---he had lost his usual wariness, and looked open and happy as a little child, drinking in the air and enjoying the colors. Harry looked at him rather sadly---could this be what Draco could have been, if his father had not been a Death Eater?