Harry Potter and the One Ring of Power

Faramir watched them quietly, not making a single move that even Ron, as keyed up as he was, could interpret as threatening. "So---I seem to have stumbled across the truth. I was, I admit, taking a wild shot in the dark, but your reactions have told me all I needed to know. I now think I know what happened with Boromir, to make you leave him."

He sighed deeply. "Poor Boromir! I knew him, better than anybody, and I know what a temptation the Great Ring would have been to him. To see it, in the hands of somebody else, would have been a terrible strain on him. He always was ambitious---he never understood, when we were young, why our father was not called a king. 'How many years,' he would ask, 'does it take for a steward to become a king, if the king returns not?' He was never really satisfied with our father Denethor's answer:'Few years, in lands of less royalty. In Gondor, ten thousand years would not suffice.'"

"Yes, that was Boromir---proud and ambitious," murmured Harry. Ron could see that he had his wand in his hand, but he was keeping his hand below the table.

"For all warnings, all he could think of was the good of Minas Tirith---and he would have taken the Ring's reappearance as a signal to use it, to free our people from the Nameless One's terror forever." Faramir quirked a smile at the Hogwarts students' astonished looks. "You need not be quite so startled. Did I not say I knew Boromir better than anybody? But be not afraid! I would not take this Thing, if it were lying in the road."

"That's reassuring," said Harry shakily. Ron was still quivering with readiness to fight, but he could see Harry relaxing very slightly. "Believe me, this Thing is nothing you---or I, for that matter---could master. I can carry it, but if I were to hold it for too long, it would master even me. If you took it to Minas Tirith, this Thing that drove your brother mad with desire, you'd end up with two Minas Morguls, grinning at each other across a barren valley."

"I wouldn't want that," murmured Faramir. "But what are you going to do with It?"

Harry looked unutterably weary. In a low voice, he said: "I was going to find a way into Mordor with it. The only way to destroy it for all time is to throw it into the Cracks of Doom, on the slopes of Mount Doom---Oroduin, deep in Mordor itself." Faramir's eyes went wide with shock.

"Oroduin! At least I now have an explanation as to why you were travelling through Ithilien! I must say that I do not envy you your task---and if you took it upon yourself unwilling, at the behest of others, you have pity from me, from the bottom of my heart." The Gondorian had gone pale under his outdoorsman's tan. "In your land, wizards---and witches," with a glance at Hermione's upraised eyebrow---"must be people who are greatly honored."

"Not as much as you might think, Lord Faramir," said Hermione, with a rather bitter smile. "Harry's uncle and aunt loathe magic, and mages---remember? He mentioned it." Faramir nodded thoughtfully. "They mistreated him---not beating him or physically abusing him, but making him live under their stairs, and making him wear his horrible fat cousin's cast-off clothes, and never saying a kind word to him. Meanwhile, they spoiled their own son---Harry's cousin---horribly, to the point where I pity the poor stupid lump."

"Now that would not be acceptable in Minas Tirith," said Faramir, sitting up and looking very stern. "Our training is stern, and our parents often distant, at least in the noble houses, the houses of the Numenor-descendedÂ…but to deliberately mistreat a child is beyond the pale. The Steward's Law, and the old kings' law, are very strict on that subject." Faramir shook his head in disgust at the antics of Harry's relations. "But, other than such folk, how are wizards seen?"

"Usually, we aren't. We take good care to not be seen, and the Muggles---that's non-magical folk---don't mostly believe we even exist. This way, we get left alone, and are not blamed for everything that goes wrong. Part of my father's job is to keep Muggles from finding out that we're there," said Ron. "By now it's traditional that it should be so, and I think that a Gondorian nobleman should know all about tradition."

Faramir grinned rather ruefully. "Yes, we and tradition are old, old friends. We have kept up such traditons of Numenor, our homeland, as we could---although we have learned much from our allies, particularly the Men of Rohan, the horse-warriors." He yawned. "But now, I think we all need to sleep for a while. Sleep well, wizards---and witch. You need not fear us."

Ron suddenly realized just how bone-weary he really was. He had hardly enough energy left to get to the bed they had set up for him and his companions, and he was asleep as soon as he was lying down.

* * * * * * * * *

An unguessable time later, Ron felt a hand shaking his shoulder. Before he quite knew what he was doing, he had snapped awake, his wand in his hand and his heart racing. Hermione put her hand over his mouth. "Shhh! It's just me! There's something going on!" As Ron came fully awake, he heard the Gondorians snoring. Near him, Harry was rubbing his eyes and putting on his glasses, and Draco was stowing his wand in a sheath under his clothes. "Faramir came and woke Harry---he says there's something we need to see outside somewhere." Ron could see Faramir standing at a respectful distance.

Once the four from Hogwarts were awake, Faramir led them out of the cave, through a long, damp narrow tunnel. After climbing up a narrow, twisting flight of stairs, Ron found himself standing under the familiar night sky, on a flat rock. A silent sentry stood beside him and his friends and Faramir. Below them, the waterfall that formed the window in the cave that he had so admired foamed over the rocks and away. The moon gleamed off the everlasting snows in the mountains. Ron wrapped his cloak closer around himself, shivering in the cold breeze. He judged that it was close to dawn, but by how much, he couldn't have said.

"So what's going on?" muttered Draco, echoing the resentful thought that had filled Ron's mind. "It's cold out here, and although the scenery's beautiful, it's not as though I needed to see it."

"You weren't brought out here to see scenery, Mr. Malfoy," muttered Faramir. "Look down below us, where the water forms a pool!" Harry dropped, first to his knees and then to his belly, peering over the edge of the rock into the darkness. Hermione joined him, and then Ron and Draco did the same. At first, Ron's eyes were not able to penetrate the gloom, but then they adjusted from the brighter light the moon shed over the surrounding wilderness, he saw a small shape moving around. He drew in his breath and expelled it in a long, long, weary sigh. And here I thought we'd finally managed to lose the little wretch, he thought bitterly.

"Well? What is it? You did have another with you, one we had forgotten in all the excitement," came Faramir's voice. "Shall we shoot it? Even being near this pool is death by the laws of Gondor!"

"No! Absolutely not!" Harry's response was very fast, and carried the snap of command; Ron blinked slightly at that---he would never have dared command Faramir so cavalierly. "He's under my protection, and I don't think he even knows you're here. He doesn't know much about men. He probably doesn't know you're within a hundred miles of this place."

Faramir looked at Harry, puzzled. "Then why would he come here?"

Hermione smiled. "Fish. He loves fish." Below them, the small shape dove into the water, leaving hardly a ripple. After a minute, it surfaced, and swam for the shore, a small, flopping thing in what had to be its mouth. It pulled itself up onto the shore and hunkered down.

Faramir shook his head. "Fish! It is a less perilous thing to seek here---but even looking on this pool's an offense that brings death." He raised his hand as if to signal to the sentry, who drew his bow.

Harry pulled out his wand, not pointing it at anybody, but letting both Gondorians see that it was there. He rolled away from the edge of the rock, and his friends followed him, spreading out to either side of him, with Hermione on his right side, Ron on his left, and Draco to Ron's left. Harry jerked up his head slightly, in a gesture that reminded Ron achingly of their lost friend Aragorn; the moonlight glittered on his glasses.

At the sight of the Hogwarts students' reaction, Faramir shrank back slightly, raising his hands in sign of peace. The sentry unbent his bow, looking uncertain; Ron remembered him from the fight with the Southrons, and knew that he knew what Harry and his companions could do, if sufficiently roused. "Did---did we offend you, Mr. Potter? If so, we didn't mean toÂ…" Faramir's voice trailed off under Harry's icy stare.

"No, I don't want him killed, or hurt if it can be avoided. I said that he's under my protection, Lord Faramir---and I would not like it if you broke my word, without my having so much as a voice in the matter." Harry's voice was soft, and his manner was mild---and as he smiled at Faramir under the setting moon, Ron shivered with fear. What had happened to the old, mild-mannered Harry Potter, quiet and deferential to authority figures? This Harry Potter would have told Professor Snape where to get off!

"We can capture him, Lord Faramir. We've done it before." Hermione looked at Faramir, her dark eyes unfathomable in the moonlight. "I don't think he realizes his danger, and I'd rather not shoot him in the back." Her mouth twisted. "He seems to like me---the gods only know why." After a minute, she added: "He's been our guide through great danger---the Dead Marshes---and I don't think that Gandalf, or Mithrandir, as you call him, would want him hurt. He forbade the Elves of Mirkwood to hurt him."

Faramir nodded. "Very well. There's a path down to the water to your right. Good luck, Miss Granger."

"Go with her, Ron," said Harry. "Draco and I will keep watch on things from up here." At Harry's command, Ron moved off, following Hermione down the path to the water.

As they slowly clambered down, they began to be able to hear Gollum's voice over the burble and hiss of the waters. "Ach, sss, nice fissh, good fissh, makes us sstrong, makes eyeses bright and fingerses tight! White Face is gone, we hates it, gollum! Curse them! They took our Preciouss! Throttle them all, if we gets chances! Fissh, good fisshÂ…" and on and on it went.

Ron fingered the hilt of his sword. Gollum didn't seem to know they were there, and they were close enough that he could have had the miserable creature's head off his shoulders before anybody could stop him. But---at seventh and last, he knew he couldn't do such a thing. Gollum was unaware of his danger, and although Ron hated to admit it, Hermione had been right. They'd never have been able to figure a way through the Dead Marshes without him. There are times I wish I were a Slytherin, he thought rather ruefully.

"Smeagol," called Hermione, softly. At first, Gollum didn't seem to hear her, crouching over his fish and maundering to himself about how he would find his Precious, but when she repeated his name a little louder, he stopped, raising his head and looking around. "Smeagol, come to me. You're in danger here, and I have to get you out of it, but you must trust me! I won't let anybody hurt you! Come to me!"

"Ach, sss, pretty girl finds us! Pretty girl knows we's losst, losst without our Preciouss! Pretty girl helps us find our Preciouss!" Gollum came fawning up to Hermione, a fish in either hand. He had obviously been eating more fish, and he looked even less appetizing than he usually did. He had fish scales and fish-goo smeared around his mouth; Gollum was ever a messy eater. Hermione allowed him to fawn on her for a minute, as Ron watched from the shadows. Ron knew that they needed Gollum, and that it would be wrong to kill him---and Ron wanted to blast Gollum into a million pieces for daring to touch or look at Hermione. He mastered himself with an effort, as Hermione led Gollum toward the path.

When Gollum spotted Ron, his eyes gleamed in the darkness. "Ach, sss, the nassty bad-tempered mage! What is he doing here?"

As Gollum made as if to get away, Ron leveled his wand. "Stupefy!" Gollum toppled, limp and boneless, to the ground. Ron snapped "Mobilicorpus!" and the creature lurched to his feet, walking along unsteadily, rather like the zombies that Ron remembered from his Defense Against the Dark Arts textbooks. He still clutched a fish in one long-fingered handÂ…trust Gollum, thought Ron with an inner chuckle.

Between the Mobilicorpus Charm and several Levitating Charms, Ron and Hermione got Gollum up to the top where Faramir and the archer---Anborn, if Ron remembered his name right---were waiting with Harry and Draco. The Gondorians' eyes widened at the sight of Gollum shambling along under the Mobilicorpus Charm. "We could use that in Minas Tirith, to deal with lawbreakers," muttered Anborn. "When you get back, would you be interested in talking to our Chief of Constables about working for him?"

"You were a constable?" asked Hermione. "How are they organized? Do you have much of a crime problem in Minas Tirith?" Ron hid a smile---some things really, truly, never did change. The day she quits being eager for new facts, we'll probably be burying her, he thought. Anborn began telling her all about his exploits fighting crime in Minas Tirith---exploits, Ron noticed with some concern, that always seemed to end up with him starring as the hero of the day. Hermione lapped up every word, nodding at the right times, while Faramir stuffed the unconscious Gollum into a large leather bag.

When they were back in the Gondorians' hideout, Ron took out his wand and cast a quick Ennervate Charm, to bring Gollum back to consciousness. When Gollum came to, he squeaked with terror to find himself in a strange, candle-lit place, among so many tall, stern-looking men. "Where are we? Where are we, preciouss?" he gibbered. "How did we get here?" He whirled, dropping the fish, and grabbed Hermione. "Help us! Nassty men wants to kill us, kill us, gollum, gollum, gollum!" Hermione unloosened his hands from her clothes, with a shudder of revulsion. Ron hoped Gollum wouldn't pick up on it---he loathed the creature, but knew that they still needed his help.

"She is not the person you need to talk to, creature," said Faramir, leaning close and looming over Gollum. "I am. Taking fish from the pond where you were taking them is death by the laws of Gondor."

"Don't want fish," muttered Gollum, dropping the fish he had taken onto the floor.

"It is not the fish, but even looking on the pool, that entails death," said Faramir sternly. "I have spared you because your companions have asked me to. But you must satisfy me about your purposes. What is your name? Where do you come from? Why are you near here?"

"No name, no name," whimpered Gollum. "Losst, losst and empty. We are hungry, gollum, hungry, and big strong men say they will kill us, just for a few nassty bony fishes. So wise they are, so very jusst."

"Come here," said Faramir. He bent down and looked Gollum straight in his eyes. "Have you ever been here before? Have you ever seen this place before?" Gollum could not meet his stare at first, but finally returned Faramir's stare, the strange light going out of his pale eyes. He said nothing, but slowly shrank down and squatted on the floor of the cave.

"Never came here, never come here again," he muttered. "Never, never, never!" Faramir looked at Harry, his expression rather troubled, then turned back to Gollum.

"There are locked doors, closed windows and dark rooms in your mind, creature, but I think that in this, you speak true. What oath will you give, never to come here again, and never to lead anybody here or tell where this place is?" Ron quite admired the phrase about locked dors and closed windows, and stored it away in his memory. He thought that in some ways, it fit several people he knew at Hogwarts remarkably well, particularly Professor Snape in one of his evil moods.

"Masster knows," whispered Gollum. He crawled over to Harry, who stared at him bleakly. "Nice masster knows, yes he does." Grovelling at Harry's feet, he whined: "Save uss, nice Masster! Save uss! We swears, swears to It, that we never, never comes here again! Smeagol promises Precious, yes, he does, gollum!" Harry gently detached Gollum's fingers from his tunic, an unreadable look on his face.

"Will he keep this oath?" asked Faramir. "I would not trust him to keep any promise he made."

"Yes, he would. You must either accept his oath, or kill him. And you know that killing him wouldÂ…displeaseÂ…me." Harry looked at Faramir, cold command radiating from every inch of him.

"If nothing else, I promised that no harm would come to him, and that I'd protect him." Hermione chimed in, raising her chin and giving Faramir a Look that put Ron in mind of Professor McGonagall at her most strict. "What you got from him is the best he can do, I think."

"Very well. Will you accept responsibility for this creature?" Faramir asked. He looked quite doubtful about the wisdom of letting Gollum go, and Ron couldn't blame him for a second.

Harry shrugged. "Well, you haven't quite decided what to do with us. We've been comrades-in-arms, but you wanted originally to arrest us. What do you say about us, first?"

Faramir smiled. "For your services to Gondor, I declare all four of you free to travel in all Gondorian territory, with the sole proviso that coming here to this outpost without permission is forbidden. This will last for a year, and then lapse, unless you present yourselves at Minas Tirith to apply for an extension---and I promise to speak for you in that case, and to urge that this freedom be granted you for all of your lives. And it applies to anybody you take under your protection."

Harry bowed. "On behalf of my comrades, I thank you, Lord Faramir."

"And do you take this creature, this 'Smeagol,' under your protection?" asked Faramir. To Ron, the exchanges had a rather ritual quality, and he sensed that this was a standard ritual indulged in by the men of Gondor.

"I do take Smeagol under my protection," said Harry, with a small sigh. Ron had known him a long time, and knew that he was rather reluctant to have anything more to do with Gollum, but that if he abandoned Gollum, Harry would never, ever forgive himself. Conscience is a harder master than Professor Snape ever thought of being, he thought to himself rather ruefully.

Draco nudged Ron in the ribs. "Well, Weasel, it looks like we're stuck with him for the long haul," Draco murmured. "Between us, I'd rather kiss a dementor than have him anywhere near us, but Harry's right---we do owe him, if only for getting us past the Marshes." Ron hushed him absently; at least the Gondorians hadn't noticed their little byplay, being concentrated on Harry, Faramir and Gollum.

Faramir looked at Gollum very sternly, and the gangrel creature quailed under his stare. "Then, Smeagol, I say to you that you are under doom of death, but that while you are with Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy and Ron Weasley you are under their protection, for our part. But if you are found in lands of Gondor without them, you will be killed---and may death find you swiftly, in any land, if you betray them!" He leaned down and looked closely at Gollum. "Now, tell me: Where were you leading them?"

"It's a place called Cirith Ungol," volunteered Hermione, seeing that Gollum wasn't going to answer. At that, the Gondorians muttered among themselves; Ron gathered that this wasn't an idea that they liked at all. "It's up by Minas Ithil."

"Minas Morgul," corrected Faramir absently, his eyes intent on Gollum. "Tell me, creature! Have you ever heard that name before---Cirith Ungol?"

Gollum cowered. "No! Yes, maybe, once, long ago! But what does nameses mean? Nice masster, pretty girl and their friends wants to go into Mordor, so we shows them an open path, yess, we shows them the only open path into the Black Land!" Faramir looked very skeptical at this.

"The only path?" He cocked his head on one side, and rubbed his chin. "And how do you know this path? Does anybody at all know all the ways of that dark land?" He came to a decision. "We will speak of this later. Go with Anborn---" as that worthy appeared to escort Gollum away---"and do not try leaping through the water-curtain. There are rocks below there that would cut you off in the prime of your years. Go now, Smeagol---" he cast a martyred look at the cavern floor, where Gollum's fish lay, "and take your fish!" Anborn led Gollum away, and Faramir turned to Harry, his face troubled.

"I don't think you should follow that creature, Harry Potter," he said. "He is evil, and has plans of his own. I think he knows far more of Cirith Ungol---a name we know, and know nothing good of---than he's told you."

Harry looked suddenly utterly weary. "I know he's got his own little plans. But what would you have me do?" He spread his hands. "Would you have me go to Minas Tirith, bearing this Thing? It drove your brother literally mad with desire!"

"Even if you, or somebody in your city, mastered the Ring, in the end it would master you," murmured Draco, his expression somber and resigned. "Would you like that? Would you like for there to be two twin Minas Morguls, grinning at each other like twin skulls?"

"No," said Faramir, his voice and face both troubled, "I would not have it so." He looked at all four of the Hogwarts students, his expression one of deep concern. "But I would not have you follow this creature. If you wish, we would escort him to any point on the borders of Gondor that he names."

"It would do no good, Lord Faramir," sighed Harry. "He would follow us, as he has done for many weary days and miles."

"That may be," said Faramir. "Still, I do not think you are bound to go to Cirith Ungol. It is a place with a dreadful reputation---something lives there, something evil. If you mention Cirith Ungol to the wise men of Gondor, they blanch and fall silent. There is a dark terror that lives there, in the passes above Minas Morgul---and Minas Morgul itself is an evil place, full of lidless eyes. Don't go there!"

"Then where can I go?" asked Harry. "You say not to go there, but I'm bound into Mordor, one way or another. Every other way is worse---this Thing I bear is evil, evil beyond your dreams. No matter where else I take it, it'll be the source of more evils than you can imagine. If I turn from my path, where could I go? Minas Tirith?" He gave a short, bitter laugh. "You said yourself you didn't want there to be two twin Minas Morguls!"

"No, I don't. If this is the only path there is, then you must take it. We won't be together much longer, Harry Potter, but you and your companions have my blessing, for what it may be worth. This Smeagol---does he know the nature of the Thing you bear?"

"He does. He bore it himself, for centuries---and it made him what he now is." At Harry's response, Faramir paled, and his hand twisted in an apotropaic gesture, warding off evil.

"We'll at least fill your packs with food, and set you on your way," said Faramir, pale under his tan. "That, I think, is the least we can do. Also, if you will heed my advice, do not trust this guide, this Smeagol! He's done murder before now. I can see it in his eyes." Faramir looked haunted. "Beware of him! Someday, maybe, when all this is over, we can sit and tell old tales, and maybe you can tell me how you came into this world, and how you came to take up this quest. Your people are blessed, that you came from them."

There didn't seem to be anything more to say, so they all went and turned in; Ron in particular was glad to see his bed, and dropped off into a dreamless sleep.