Fan Fiction ❯ Harry Potter and the Lord of the Rings: The Full Story ❯ And So It Begins.... ( Chapter 1 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Hey! I’ve seen a whole lot of LOTR/HP crossovers, and I wanted to try my hand at it.
Tell me if you think I did a good job. Oh, and normal print means they’re speaking English. If it’s in underlined, then it’s in Elvish.
 
Harry Potter and the Fellowship of the Ring
 
Fire. That was what he felt…fire burning through his veins, tearing him apart from the inside out.
The pain faded as the man casting the curse pulled his wand away. “Does it hurt, boy? Tell me, does it hurt? How much does it hurt?”
Emerald eyes glared up into the glinting, malicious red eyes of the Dark Lord Voldemort.
Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, was kneeling, holding his heart from the pain.
“You…are…such…a…jackass.” Harry panted out.
This…this was what he had been trained for. The final battle, the reason that he had been taught so many spells that even many Aurors would cringe at knowing. Of course, he was the only one in the battle. Him and Voldemort. That was how it was meant to be.
“Ah, but you are the one kneeling, Harry. Tell me, Harry. Tell me that you will rule the world with me as my equal, and I will let you live. I won’t kill you.”
Harry shook his head. “No. There’s no way I’ll fall for your empty promises. Anyone who does would have to be insane with a damned death wish!”
“Hmph. Stubborn boy. Well, it can’t be helped.” Voldemort raised his wand, and prepared to launch a new attack on the smaller wizard.
Harry quickly reached under his cloak, pulling out a sword that had been kept hidden.
This had been part of their plan, use magic against him and then physical strength.
Voldemort was strong in magic, but nothing else.
Harry whipped the sword across the Dark Lord’s chest, making an ‘HP’ on it, ripping through the black fabric of his cloak.
Voldemort was stunned for a second, but that was all Harry needed.
The boy jumped into the air, remembering what Remus told him to do. Hold the sword with both hands at the hilt, point it straight down and make sure you’re pointing it at his head.
Harry felt the wind whip around him, tossing his cloak and hair in his face, but he kept his eyes trained on the stunned ‘Dark Lord’.
He forced his eyes to stay open as the form of Voldemort came closer and closer to the tip of his sword.
He readied himself for the force he knew was coming.
A screech, inhuman and keening, flew from the Dark Lord as the sword dug itself deeper and deeper into his skull, breaking it.
Harry let go of his sword and fell to the ground, as did Voldemort.
Voldemort lay there, dead.
The enemy of the Wizarding world for more than fifty years was now dead.
Harry wiped his lip of the blood dribbling down his chin.
It was finally over.
Harry looked around him, seeing so many dead bodies on the ground that it was beyond anything any horror movie could come up with.
Harry fell to his knees, hands cupped over his mouth.
He finally let go and allowed himself to vomit on the blood-stained grass of Hogwarts School, fainting afterwards.
 
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
 
Harry stretched out, popping the muscles in his back. The sun felt so good against his skin, as did the soft grass.
Small specks of light dappled over his face, streaming through the leaves of the tall tree above him.
“You’re here again?” came a calm, yet humored, voice.
Harry laughed. “Yeah. I’m running from Arwen.”
“Harroshid, why must you continuously run from her? She just wants to talk to you about~”
“I know what she wants to talk to me about, father. And I’m not going to listen. Why shouldn’t I? I mean...” he paused when the man sat down, now identified as ‘Father.’ “What reason do I have not to go?”
His father sighed, “Harroshid, you need to understand. We already have one of our own kind to help with this.”
“Legolas is NOT one of our kind. Why can he do it alone with them?”
“Harroshid! You are not going and that is final!”
Harry’s eyes widened he’d never yelled at him before…He looked down at the emerald green grass, defeat clear in his eyes. “All right, father…I won’t go…”
 
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*
 
Harry blinked repeatedly, trying to clear the tiredness from his eyes. His dream, though vague, slipped away from him to where he couldn’t remember a thing.
A familiar sight greeted his eyes as his vision cleared to show a wall decorated with pictures and four-poster beds. The infirmary.
Harry rolled his eyes sitting up. Guilt was tearing at his heart from having killed so many human beings…Harry quickly shook his head, pressing his arm across his arms as he lay against his pillows. They weren’t humans. A man who killed, tortured, and exploited his fellow brothers was a sick dog…and should be dealt the same fate.
Another of Harry’s many lessons. It was supposed to make it easier for him to kill the Death Eaters and Voldemort. It actually did work. Once the guilt of killing humans came over him, he merely thought about all that they had done…and the guilt never entirely disappeared, but it helped. At least he wouldn’t be driven insane and lose his head like so many others did in the school when they heard if they fought in the Final Battle that they’d have to kill humans.
He didn’t think they were weak, oh no…they were some of the more sane ones. He just couldn’t deny his fate as the Savior of the Wizarding World.
He snorted at the thought of his title. It was so stupid. He didn’t want to be a savior. He didn’t want to be anything other than what he was…
“Well, about time you woke up.” Said a chirpy voice from his bedside.
Harry blinked, looking to the side to see Remus.
“Remus!” He yelped, hugging the elder man.
“Hey…” he laughed. “So, are you sure you’re okay? I mean, you’ve been out of it for near three days.”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m sure I’ll be fine from now on that Voldemort’s gone. But…what am I going to do now?”
“Hm? Harry? What are you talking abou…oh. You mean what you’re going to do now that the reason you’ve really been alive this whole time is gone you don’t know what to do with your life.” Remus smiled sadly and sat down on the edge of Harry’s bed, grasping his hands in both of his larger ones. “Harry, I know that you’ll be able to do anything you want. You wanted to become an Auror, didn’t you?”
“Well…yeah. But I don’t really know if I can anymore…”
“What?”
“Nothing. Just forget I said it. Now, when can I get out of here?” he whimpered.
Remus just laughed.
That sure wasn’t a good sign….
Of course, it was another week before Madame Pomfrey would let him out of the Hospital Wing. When he did, things were almost the same as before…only now he had to deal with being slapped on the back so much he was becoming black and blue, and so many people congratulating him for defeating the Dark Lord that he could practically guess exactly what they were going to say by how they started it. Sure, sometimes he was wrong, but it wasn’t often.
The biggest surprise was when the Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour came to the school during the End of Year Feast.
After a few minutes of talking with McGonagall, Scrimgeour straightened up and held a goblet firmly in his hand. “Would Harry Potter please come up to the Staff table?”
Harry blinked, and the entire Hall went silent.
The Boy-Who-Was-Now-Confused stood up from his seat between Hermione and Ginny and strode up to the Minister. “Yes, sir?”
Scrimgeour cleared his throat and pulled something out of the pocket of his gray cloak. “Harry James Potter, I, Rufus Scrimgeour, Minister of Magic, do hereby place upon you the Order of Merlin, First Class.”
Harry’s eyes must have widened to the size of the plates on the table. “Wh-what? I…I…I don’t…I don’t know…I don’t know what to say….” He stuttered. The Order of Merlin, First Class? Good god…that was, like, as good as being Merlin himself…
Scrimgeour held out a glass case, which held what seemed to be a wand. It was beautiful cherry wood with silver and gold inlaid into it in the forms of thin, twisting vines. “Th-Thank you, Minister…but I,” Professor McGonagall cut in before he could finish his refusal.
“Mr. Potter. I don’t think it wise for you to refuse this. In fact, we all insist upon you accepting the Order. We are all very proud of you, Mr. Potter. Our lives were in your hands and they were in good ones. You saved us all. Now, accept your Order and we shall all return to the feast.” She sat back down.
Harry smiled softly. He never really could argue with the Transfiguration Professor/Headmistress of Hogwarts. “Thank you, Minister Scrimgeour. I accept.” He bowed and took it gently into his hands.
Scrimgeour actually smiled. “Harry, my boy, I’m proud of you. Hopefully no such kind of danger shall ever walk the Earth. But if it does, we know we can count on you.” With that, Scrimgeour left in a swirl of robes, striding out of the Great Hall.
And hopefully out of Harry’s life forever.
Hurriedly, Harry returned to his seat, and finished eating, still pretty much in shock.
Later that night found Harry sitting at the window of the Boys’ Seventh Year dorm, the window wide open.
He sighed, petting Hedwig. “Oh Hedwig…what am I going to do? I mean, everyone expects me to now be some modern-day-save-the-day-superhero. How am I going to try and have the normal life I’ve wanted for so long? I just…” he sighed, pausing in his petting. “I just wish I could live somewhere where I’m not some famous teen. To just be…normal. Or just not be Harry Potter anymore. But somebody else entirely…if only wishes came true, eh, Hedwig?”
She hooted softly in response, nudging his hand with her beak.
Harry smiled softly, and allowed sleep to take him right there on the windowsill. His last thought was I really do wish I could stop being Harry Potter. If only for a little while…
But our dear Harry should know by now to watch what you wish for…as it could come true quite easily.
 
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
 
“Why don’t we grant his wish?” asked a blonde to a redhead beside her.
What looked to be a mirror was under her hands
“Are you insane?! Do you know what father would do if we messed with the mortals again, Arian (Ah-ree-an)?!” the redhead screeched, red curls bouncing around her round, pretty face and emerald eyes.
The woman now identified as Arian shrugged. “So what? Come on! We’ll do everything for this one! And I like him. He’s so adorable! We’ll erase his memory of this life so that the only thing he remembers will be fleeting images of his parents and his two friends. Those will be the only things he will remember. Come on, Maier (Mare)!”
Maier sighed. “Fine. But just this once. If father finds out, it’s all on your head!”
“Yay!” she yipped, jumping up and down.
The two joined hands over the mirror, the image of Harry’s sleeping face embedded into the glass of the mirror. Soft words spilled from their lips, winding around Harry’s soul as his body left the world it had once been such a part of…and was now leaving forever.
 
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
 
Arwen sighed, leaning against the tree she had been sleeping under. The days were just so…boring lately. She really wanted something to happen…anything.
Then the Evenstar necklace around her neck started to glow.
She blinked. That only happened when something that would change the lives of the Elve’s forever was about to happen. Arwen stood up, straightening out her long, red velvet dress.
She ran off to the spring, where the light of the Evenstar was leading her.
She stopped stalk still as soon as she reached the spring that was directly connected to the large waterfall by the Citadel. “Oh…in the name of Elendiel…”
There, on the rock in the middle of the spring was a boy. No, a young man. He looked about seventeen from where she was, maybe a little older. He was sopping wet, most likely. Quickly, she ran into the water, not caring that her dress was weighing her down.
Arwen grabbed the lithe boy, dragging him off the rock and into the water, making certain to keep his head above the water; she backed out of the water and shifted him in her arms. He was very light and he seemed so skinny. It had to be unhealthy for a human to be so skinny.
Judging from the round shells of his ears, he was a human.
Hurriedly, Arwen kept the boy firmly in her arms and ran as fast as she could back to Rivendell.
“Father! Father!” she yelled, running through the halls of Rivendell’s many twisting halls until she found her father.
Lord Elrond turned to face his daughter, only to pause. “Why are you carrying a human?” he asked quite bluntly.
“I found him on the rock in the middle of the spring. He was unconscious.” She gasped out; trying to make sure all of her words were distinguishable from all of the rest.
Lord Elrond’s eyes narrowed as he looked over the boy. “Take him to a room. Take care of him. Watch over him until he wakes up.”
Arwen nodded, carrying the boy off to an empty guest room and emptying him into the satin sheets and soft comforter of the bed.
As she sat and removed the soaking wet clothes from his body, she was able to look at him for the first time.
His hair was the same black as hers, but it was wild and probably was impossible to tame. His skin was a pale color that slightly worried her. Either the boy was very sick or he didn’t get very much sun. The skin was the color of pale peaches and cream. His body was very thin and lithe, but there were obvious muscles in his body that were usually covered by baby fat that he was apparently quickly losing.
Very quickly, Arwen grabbed an Elven outfit and donned it on his body, then covered his body with the thick comforter and sheets, making sure he was comfortable.
She didn’t know why, but she wanted him to be comfortable. She had a feeling about him.
She ran a slender finger down his pale cheek, reveling in the envy-worthy softness of his skin. He looked so…peaceful while he was asleep. Of course, she’d never seen him awake, but she had the feeling that he wasn’t a very calm person. He looked like a child. That was what he reminded her of. A child.
She smiled, and sat back in her chair, content in merely watching the child sleep.
 
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
 
Arian grinned. “There we go. She found him. Now all we need to do is wait for everything else in that world to run its’ course. Hopefully he won’t have to go through too much.”
Maier smiled as well. “Yes. That was quite a lot of fun. And father didn’t find out about it. I guess because we used the least amount of our magic as possible. But you do know that his memories will catch up with him. We can suppress emotional memories from his life. But the magical ones where he used his wand and his spells…we can’t hide that. Those will slowly surface and he will soon remember who he once was.”
“And therefore have a newfound appreciation for the new life we’ve given him!” Arian chirped.
Maier rolled her eyes. “You just never give up.”
“Nope.”
 
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
 
He groaned, blinking. What was going on? Where was he?
He sat up, despite the loss of warmth from the thick comforter covering him.
“Ah, so you’re awake.”
He blinked, staring at the girl by the bed he was in.
Long black hair fell in soft waves around her face, pale as alabaster. A red velvet dress donned her pale body, hanging loosely around her as it pooled in a thick puddle on the white marble floor.
“Wh-Who are you?” he whispered, slightly scared and yet intrigued by the pointy-eared girl.
Ah, so he doesn’t speak Elvish. “I am Arwen. And before you ask where you are, which I know you will, you are in the House of Elrond in Rivendell.”
“Rivendell? What’s that? And who’s ‘Elrond’?” He was very much confused. What was going on? Where was he, really? Who was he? How come he couldn’t remember anything? What was his name? What was he? “What is going on?” he whispered again, getting more and more confused by the second.
Arwen’s eyes narrowed. “Do you not know what has happened to you?”
He shook his head.
“Well, I found you on a rock in the middle of a spring. I took you back here because…well, I don’t really know why I brought you here. I guess I just had a feeling about you. Like you were special.” She smiled. “Now, could you tell me your name?”
“My name?”
“Yes.” She giggled. The little boy was so cute!
“I…I don’t know my name. I guess I don’t have one. I remember a letter ‘H’ but nothing else.”
“Oh? Well…that certainly isn’t very good. Can you not remember anything? Anything at all?”
He shook his head. “No.”
Before Arwen could say anything else, the doors to the room burst open and an aged man with black hair partially tied back and wearing splendid cream-colored robes swept into the room. “So, I take it that he is awake.”
“Yes Father.”
“What is his name? Where did he come from?”
“He cannot remember anything about his life before he woke up. He doesn’t remember his name except for a letter ‘H’ that he knew was there. Father?”
“Yes?”
The boy continued to sit there, staring at the bed sheets as they continued their conversation.
He couldn’t understand what they were saying, and he didn’t want to strain his brain trying.
“What if we were to…take care of him?”
“Take care of him? What, as in, have him live here with us?”
“Yes.”
“Daughter, you know that only elves or members of the Elven race may live in Rivendell.”
“But what if we made him part of our family? I can just…I feel something about this boy. He’s special. I can feel it. Father, he has nowhere else to go.”
Elrond sighed. He hated Arwen when she was like this. She had such a large, kind heart. Finding this lost little boy was perfect for her. She always wanted a little brother… “Fine, Arwen. He may live with us. But if I hear that a group of humans start looking for him for some reason or another, he will go with them. Understood?”
“Understood, father.” The bright smile on Arwen’s face was well worth the frustration she had just put him through.
Elrond turned to the boy on the bed. He had the delicate features of the elves…but his blood was human. And one look into the young child’s bright, emerald green eyes made his heart lurch. There was a dark glow in his eyes. The eyes of those who were lost.
“I am Lord Elrond. My daughter has explained your predicament to me and I have decided that you will stay here with us until such a time as you see fit to leave or someone comes to get you.”
He nodded.
“Father, I believe he will need a name. We can’t just call him…well, ‘Boy’ or something.”
Elrond nodded. “Yes. You are right.” Elrond disappeared into thought for a few moments, studying the boy.
“Harroshid. Child of the Lost. (I know that that’s not what that name really means. But hey, I made the name up; I make up what it means. There.) That shall be your name.”
Harroshid blinked. “Harroshid…” he smiled. “Thank you, Lord Elrond.”
“Yes. Arwen, I expect you to tell him the behavior expected of him whilst he is here and to show him around. I have important matters to attend to.” Elrond left, leaving Arwen and the newly-dubbed Harroshid alone.
Arwen smiled at him. “Well, are you hungry?”
His stomach growled in response. He blushed.
Arwen laughed her laughter like the jingling of a thousand tiny bells. “Well, that answers it. Come on, let’s get something to eat.”
Harroshid climbed out of the bed and held onto Arwen’s hand, letting her lead him through the twisting corridors of Rivendell, showing him where everything was.
After eating a filling dinner of some odd roots and berries, Harroshid was allowed to go to bed.
As he slipped into a pair of pajamas given to him by one of the servants of the palace, he couldn’t help but think that he had to be pretty lucky to live here in Rivendell. And he hoped he could continue to do so.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
 
“Harroshid! Harroshid! Time to wake up.” Arwen cooed, shaking Harroshid’s shoulder.
Harroshid groaned, hiding his head under his pillow.
Arwen rolled her eyes. I really hope he isn’t this hard to wake up every morning.
Then she remembered the one way to get any man out of bed. “Harroshid, breakfast is ready.”
Quite slowly, Harroshid cracked open his emerald eyes, still covered by those odd glass things. “Arwen?”
“Yes, Harroshid?”
“My vision’s all blurry…”
“Well then, take off those odd glass things.”
Harroshid did as he was told and found that everything cleared up. “Thank you, Arwen.”
Later that day found Arwen and Harroshid sitting by the same spring she had discovered him at.
The two were laughing.
For some reason, Harroshid’s laughter was contagious. When he smiled, you couldn’t help but smile with him and laugh with him.
For some odd, unknown reason, Arwen felt very much attached to the young man. She didn’t know why, but she knew that she never wanted any harm to ever come to him. And she knew that, should it come to it, she would defend him with her life.
“Okay, Harroshid. I believe I should start teaching you how to speak Elvish.”
“Really?” Harroshid’s eyes sparkled with interest. The Elvish language was such a beautiful one; he really did want to know how to speak it.
“Yes, now, first off, how to say ‘Hello’…”
And so the days went, Arwen and Harroshid spending every waking moment that they could spare together. Arwen teaching Harroshid how to speak her language, and also trying to help him gain his memories back.
Arwen loved spending time with the young boy, and she cherished every day, as a group of humans could come along and take him back.
…but it never happened.
Spring turned to summer…summer turned to Fall…no one came. There were no words from other lands of a missing young man that looked like their Harroshid. Harroshid gained their language gradually, but he was a fast learner. He could now at least hold a decent conversation in Elvish.
“Father, I don’t think anyone will come for Harroshid.” Arwen said, staring at her father’s back as he stared at the wisteria trees lining the Citadel.
“Yes, I’ve noticed. What do you propose I do? Let him stay with us until he grows old? Until he dies? What would you have me do?”
Arwen paused. Ever since the beginning of the third season since he’d come to live with them, she’d been thinking. She never wanted to let Harroshid go. He was too precious to her. She had always wanted a sibling, but her mother had died giving birth to her, and therefore was incapable of having any more except in other lives. Harroshid would be a perfect sibling for her. He had the same black hair as those in the family, and his features made him appear Elvish at first glance. Only upon closer inspection would you find him to be human.
“Arwen, tell me what it is you are thinking…”
“Father…I could not bear to let Harroshid go. I…I have the feeling that I want to protect him for the rest of my life. That he is very important to me. For whatever reason, I will follow what I feel. Because it is in my heart and mind that I feel this. Even within my soul.”
Elrond sighed. “I knew you would not let him go. But I have had a vision again.”
Arwen remained silent, waiting to hear of her father’s precognition.
“I saw Harroshid. He was…he wore the Light of Evenstar around his neck. It glowed brightly. He looked not a day older than he is now. But I could tell by his eyes that he had aged centuries. He was standing with nine people. Harroshid was covered in blood; yet he was not injured. There was a sword in his hand. But still the Light of Evenstar glowed brighter than any other light I had ever seen. It was like he was one of us.”
Arwen smiled. “Maybe that’s because he is meant to be. We cannot make him become an elf. But we can bring him into the family. Whatever you decide to do, Father, I hope that it will be for the best of Harroshid.” Arwen strolled out of the Citadel, leaving her father to his thoughts.
That night after dinner, Harroshid could be found in the wisteria garden behind his room.
Elrond walked into the garden. “Hello, Harroshid.”
The young man jumped, then relaxed. “Oh, hello, Lord Elrond.”
Elrond nodded. “Indeed. It appears that no one is coming for you, Harroshid.”
Harroshid shook his head. “I had a feeling that no one would. I…I feel like anyone that could have cared for me before this is…in a different world, almost. They appear that far away.”
“Yes. Well. Arwen and I had a talk today. And I wanted to give you this, Harroshid.” Elrond reached into his pocket and pulled out a long, thin box.
Harroshid took it, and opened the lid, only to gasp.
There, against dark velvet, was the Light of Evenstar. “But…My lord…”
“Arwen wants you to be in our family. You have no one else to turn to. And I would confess now that I would like a son as well.” Elrond said quietly, the smallest hint of a smile on his face. “This necklace is inlaid with the magic of the Elves. Arwen made it for you. Your life is now tied to hers. You will live as long as she does.”
Harroshid was silent, and then a small sniffle was heard.
“Are you crying, Harroshid?”
“N…yes. Thank you…Father.” Harroshid smiled, dropping the necklace over his head to rest against his warm skin, the Evenstar resting above his very heart.
Gone now were the days of Harroshid’s life as a human. Now he would forever be Harroshid, Prince of Rivendell.
 
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
 
The city of Rivendell was dark with only the light of the full moon and the stars to guide the weary travelers of the roads.
A thin, dark shadow slipped soundlessly through the dark halls of Rivendell’s palace. As carefully as possible, the shadow ran towards the stables, grabbing a horse that knew him all-too-well on these midnight rides he so often took, and set off into the night quick as lightning.
Harroshid gasped for breath as he urged Kinamonu faster.
He knew something was amiss. Harroshid had always been more attuned into the nighttime than the light of day. He knew when something was going wrong. And currently something was going wrong with his sister’s boyfriend.
Aragorn…please be okay!
As the wind whipped through his hair and caressed his face, he let his mind wander to when he had met the young Ranger.
 
~*~*~Flash*back~*~*~
 
Arwen and Harroshid sat laughing on a marble bench on Harroshid’s balcony when Arwen froze.
“Hm? Arwen? What’s wrong, sister?” asked Harroshid, confused.
A bright smile spread over her face. “He’s here.” She swept out of the room before he could blink, leaving him to chase after her.
“Who’s here? Sister!”
Harroshid raced after his fleeing sister but froze in place when he reached the Entrance Courtyard.
There, on the back of a beautiful black mare, was the most ruggedly handsome man he had ever seen. Black-brown hair, messy and untamed, fell a hair past his shoulders, framing the tan face with a few days stubble on his face. He wore rough cotton tunic and breeches the color of earth, setting off his hair and his eyes, which were a hazel-gray.
He climbed down from the mare, only to be swept into a hug by Arwen, who kissed him.
Harroshid blinked. He didn’t his sister had a boyfriend.
Arwen finally let the man go, and they shared a few words that he couldn’t hear.
The man noticed Harroshid, “And who is this, Arwen?”
“Oh! Harroshid, I didn’t know you followed me.” She laughed lightly.
“Well, you ran out of the room…I was worried…” he mumbled, shy.
“Oh. Well thank you, Harroshid. Aragorn, this is Harroshid, my new little brother.”
Aragorn smiled. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Harroshid.” He held out his hand for Harroshid to shake, but Harroshid backed away, and ran off.
Arwen sighed. “I’m sorry, Estel. He’s very shy.”
“Oh, that’s nothing to be ashamed about.”
A few days later, Harroshid was sitting alone on a bench in their wisteria garden.
Aragorn sat down next to him from out of nowhere, making him jump.
“Wh-What are you doing here?” he squeaked.
“Well, I thought we could talk.”
Harroshid blushed, looking down and away from Aragorn. “O-Okay…”
“I’ve noticed that you’ve been leaving me and Arwen alone whilst I’ve been here.”
“Y-yes. I mean…you two are obviously courting each other…and I’d hate to intrude.”
Aragorn laughed. “Well that’s something I’m not used to. Someone who actually allows people their own amount of privacy.” He paused for a second. “Here.” He held out a small elvish pastry. (Think of it as an elvish version of a cinnamon roll.)
Harroshid smiled slightly and took it. “Thank you.” He bit into it, savoring the sweet and tangy taste of the cinnamon and cream in the middle of the soft dough.
Aragorn shook his head, taking a bite of his own.
Soon after, they were both finished.
Aragorn stared at Harroshid for a second.
“What?” Harroshid blinked.
Aragorn shook his head and ran a finger over the top arch of Harroshid’s lip, making his eyes widen. He wiped a glop of cream that had attached itself to the top of Harroshid’s lip, and licked it off his finger. “There was some cream on your face.”
He smiled at Harroshid. “You should smile more often. It suits you better than pouting. Though you’re cute when pouting, too.”
He left after that. And Harroshid was left shocked.
That was when his crush on the rogue Ranger started…and it never stopped.
 
~*~*~End*Flashback~*~*~
 
Harroshid sighed. He really needed to stop thinking about Estel like that. It really wasn’t healthy for a boy to start crushing on his sister’s boyfriend.
A familiar voice reached his ears as he raced through the forest after two days of travel from Rivendell.
“Kingsfoil? That’s a weed.” Came a small voice.
“It may help to slow the poison, now hurry!”
There was that voice…Estel.
Harroshid grinned and jumped off Kinamonu and strode towards the bent-over Ranger with the silence and grace that was only allowed to elves.
He drew his sword and held it to Aragorn’s neck. “What’s this? A Ranger caught off his guard?” he purred, turning Aragorn’s face towards his own.
His eyes widened slightly at seeing Harroshid.
“Now. Why are you looking for Kingsfoil?” Harroshid asked; voice serious as he sheathed his sword.
“One of my companions was stabbed by Morgul blade.”
“What? Take me to him!”
Aragorn nodded, and led him through quite a few thickets.
Harroshid grabbed his horse and jumped back on, galloping into the entrance of the ‘Troll’s Grotto’.
He jumped off Kinamonu and spoke to Frodo in what he hoped to be a calming voice that he had heard Arwen use so many a time. “Frodo. I am Harroshid– I’ve come to help you. Hear my voice…Come back to the light.”
The hobbit known as Frodo merely gasped again.
“Who’s that?” whispered one of the small hobbits.
“He’s an elf…” muttered a red-haired one that was slightly larger around the midsection than the others.
Harroshid lent down to examine the boy. “He’s fading. He’s not going to last. We need to get him to my father.”
Aragorn nodded, picking up the boy when he was finished adding the Kingsfoil to his wound and carried him over to Harroshid’s horse.
“I’ve been looking for you for two days.” Harroshid said plainly, slightly worried.
“Where are you taking him?” asked one of the hobbits.
“There are five Wraiths behind you. Where the other four are, I don’t know.”
“Stay with the Hobbits – I’ll send horses for you.”
“I’m the faster rider – I will take him.”
“The Road is too dangerous.”
“What are they saying?” asked the smallest Hobbit.
“If I can get across the river…the power of my people will protect him.” Harroshid paused as he stared Aragorn straight in the eye. “I do not fear them.”
Aragorn gave a small smile and grasped his hand.
Harroshid nodded and climbed up into his saddle, holding onto the cold boy for dear life and his reins.
“Harroshid…” Aragorn started, and Harroshid looked at him. “Ride hard. Don’t look back.”
Harroshid nodded again and spoke to Kinamonu, urging him on.
As he galloped off he heard one of the hobbits yell, “What are you doing?! Those Wraiths are still out there!”
Harroshid paid the words no heed as he raced forward without looking back.
But after the first day, the Wraith’s caught up with him.
Shadows stood on his left and right, chasing him and surrounding him by their evil presence on their midnight horses.
Harroshid raced faster as all nine of them chased him.
One of them reached for Frodo, and Harroshid yelled for Kinamonu to go faster.
He twisted and turned through the forest as fast as he could until he crossed over the river, not stopping until he was standing in the shallows of the opposite bank that marked the beginning of the Elven territory.
He quickly turned his horse around to face the nine RingWraiths on the other bank.
The apparent leader spoke in a raspy voice, “Give up the Halfling, elfling.”
Harroshid bristled at the barb at his young age and drew his sword. “If you want him. Come and claim him.”
The Wraiths drew their swords and started towards him, Harroshid knowing that fear was reflecting within his own eyes.
Slowly, he started to chant.
The water rose quickly, forming a giant hurricane of stampeding horses towards the Wraiths, hopefully drowning them.
Frodo grew limp in his arms and panic started to rise in Harroshid’s chest. “No. No!” He quickly jumped off his horse and laid Frodo on the ground, petting his hair.
“Frodo, no. Frodo, don’t give in!” he cried, trying to keep him conscious.
All the boy did was convulse and gasp, yet even that was growing faint.
Harroshid cried, burying his face in Frodo’s wet and greasy black hair, saying a silent prayer in his mind. What grace is given me…let it pass to him. Let him be spared…Save him.
 
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
 
A few days later found Harroshid on his balcony again. It had taken him a long time, but he had finally gotten Arwen and his father off his back about leaving Rivendell in the middle of the night for more than just a few days. Of course, all the worrying over Frodo and the Ring of Power overrode their worry of him getting kidnapped or worse.
He’d heard his father talking to Gandalf, and his father had come to the conclusion that the Ring could not stay in Rivendell.
The young Hobbit known as Frodo held the Ring? Well, there was a surprise for you.
Harroshid watched as the young Hobbit conversed with his friends in the gardens.
He smiled. He wished he could have friends like that. Sure, he had Arwen and Aragorn. But…they weren’t what you would call ‘friends’ per se. Aragorn was…well…I don’t think you would call someone you want to kiss a ‘friend’. Nor would you call your sister a friend.
Samwise Gamgee as he was called noticed that they were being watched and looked up to catch Harroshid’s eyes.
But he was gone.
Harroshid stood at the Entrance Hall, watching many groups of people come into Rivendell on horseback.
Dwarves, Elves, and Men.
One particular elf caught his eyes.
He was blonde, and looked as feminine as he could without being a female.
“Arwen? Who is that? Who are they?” he asked to his sister who was standing beside him.
“They are the Elves of the Woodland Realm. There are also the Dwarves of the High Mountains. And the Men of Gondor. They are here to aid us.”
“Aid us in what, sister? What is going on? You’ve told me of the Wraiths and of Sauron. But you have not truly told me what is going on!”
Arwen sighed. Harroshid was proving a point…as he always did. 
“Alright, Harroshid. I shall tell you…” and so everything of the evils that would pass if the Ring was not destroyed.
Harroshid was shocked. “But…they will destroy it…won’t they?”
He received no answer.
The next day, Harroshid hid in the branches of the tree beside the council terrace where his father and the others all sat in a semi-circle. Eavesdropping wasn’t very smiled upon in Rivendell…but hey, when you’re confused, you’ll do anything to understand.
“Strangers from distant lands, friends of old…you’ve been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor. Middle-earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite, or you will fall. Each race is bound to this fate, this one doom. Bring forth the Ring, Frodo.”
The young Hobbit stood from his seat, all-too-aware of everyone’s eyes upon him as he placed the small golden trinket upon the pedestal.
“So it is true…” Harroshid heard the Gondorian leader mutter. The man, Boromir, stood and spoke. “In a dream…I saw the Eastern sky grow dark…but in the West a pale light lingered…a voice was crying: “Your doom is near at hand. Isildur’s bane is found.”
Gandalf stood abruptly and started to yell in a tongue that Harroshid had never before wanted to hear…the tongue of Mordor…
Finally Boromir sat and Elrond spoke. “Never before has any voice uttered the words of that tongue her in Imladris.”
“I do not ask your pardon, Master Elrond…for the Black Speech of Mordor…may yet be heard…in every corner of the West! The Ring is altogether evil.”
“It is a gift.” Contradicted Boromir as he stood once again. Everyone was staring at him. “A gift to the foes of Mordor. Why not use this Ring? Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor…kept the forces of Mordor at bay. By the blood of our people are your lands kept safe. Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy. Let us use it against him.”
Aragorn then broke in with words of actual sense. “You cannot wield it. None of us can. The Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master.”
“And what would a Ranger know of this matter?” asked Boromir, scorn obvious in his voice.
Suddenly, the blonde elf that Harroshid had seen before stood up, angry. “This is no mere Ranger. He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance.”
“Aragorn?” Boromir asked, shocked. “This is Isildur’s heir?”
“And heir to the throne of Gondor.” Broke in the elf again.
God he was just a talkative one, eh?
“Sit down, Legolas.” Said Aragorn, gesturing for him to sit down, which he did.
“Gondor has no king.” Muttered Boromir as he made his way to his seat for the second time that day. “Gondor needs no king.”
“Aragorn is right. We cannot use it.” Said Gandalf, sighing.
Elrond stood, “You have only one choice. The Ring must be destroyed.”
There was a moment of silence but then one of the dwarves stood and hefted up his axe.
“Well what are we waiting for?” he grunted, swinging at the Ring, only to have his axe shatter and him to land on his back on the white stone of the Terrace.
“The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli, son of Gloin by any craft that we here possess. The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came.” He paused. “One of you…must do this.”
There was utter silence until the big-mouth Boromir decided to throw in his two cents again. “One does not simply walk into Mordor. Its Black Gates are guarded by more than just Orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep. And the Great Eye is ever-watchful. It is a barren wasteland riddled with fire, and ash and dust. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with 10,000 men could you do this. It is folly.”
Legolas stood again. “Did you hear nothing that Lord Elrond said? The Ring must be destroyed.”
Gimli interrupted, angry. “And I suppose you think you are the one to do it?” he stood.
Boromir stood once again. “And what if we fail, what then? What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?”
“I will die before I see the Ring in the hands of an elf!”
The elves in the room, minus Lord Elrond, stood and had to be held back by Legolas’s outstretched arms…of course, Harroshid had to restrain himself from strangling the dwarf that dared insult his family.
“Never trust an elf!”
All of this started an uproar that could not be stopped until Frodo stood, yelling “I will take it! I will take the Ring to Mordor…”
Everyone quieted down; all eyes on Frodo once more.
“Though…I do not know the way…” 
Gandalf nodded sagely. “I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins…for as long as it is yours to bear.” He clapped his hand on the small shoulder and stood behind him.
Aragorn stood and smiled. “If by my life or death I can protect you, I will.” He stepped forward, kneeling before the Hobbit as he took hold of his hands. “You have my sword.”
Legolas stepped up. “And you have my bow.”
“And my axe.” Growled Gimli.
Boromir stepped towards them. “You carry the fates of us all, little one. If this is indeed the will of the Council…then Gondor shall see it done.”
Sam suddenly jumped out from behind some shrubbery, running up to stand beside Frodo. “Mr. Frodo isn’t going anywhere without me.”
“It is hardly possible to separate you even when he is summoned to a secret Council and you are not…” Elrond said lightly, pretending to be serious when Harroshid knew he was fighting to not smile.
The other two hobbits, Merry and Pippin, jumped out and said that they’d help too.
“You need people of intelligence on this sort of…mission…quest…thing.”
“Well that rules you out, Pip.”
“Nine companions. Very well. You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring.” Elrond stated. It all seemed to be a very big deal.
“Great. Where are we going?” asked Pippin, and everyone stared at him like he was insane, Harroshid almost falling out of his chair in the tree. Was this boy stupid or just blonde at the roots?
 
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
 
That night, Harroshid sat on Aragorn’s bed, watching him pack.
“Well, I hope you had fun listening to us bicker.” Stated Aragorn. “And don’t even think that I didn’t know you weren’t there. Black and silver usually stand out quite easily against green and gold of trees.” He stated jokingly, making Harroshid blush.
“So…you knew I was there?”
“Yes. And don’t even think about trying to follow me.”
“But why not?” asked Harroshid. “I could help!”
“No, you could not.” Aragorn said, closing the bag as he finished packing.
“Why? I mean, I’m good with my sword! And my staff is becoming better!” Harroshid hated it when they got into debates about how strong he was.
“Look, Ha’ri (Hah-ree), (at this Harroshid broke in ‘Don’t Ha’ri me!’), I wouldn’t bring you even if your father would let you. This is much too dangerous of a mission for a young one like you to be going on.”
Tears filled Harroshid’s eyes. “What you’re saying is I’m weak…”
Aragorn jumped. He hadn’t meant to say that. “No, I didn’t mean that!”
“Yes you did!” Harroshid jumped up from the bed, staring Aragorn in the eyes. “Just admit it! You think that I’m a weak and slow little boy that should never see the darkness of battles, even though that’s why you’ve been training me for so long!”
Aragorn noticed many things in the room shaking uncontrollably, as if an earthquake had taken hold of the room. Actually all of Rivendell was experiencing this ‘earthquake’.
“Harroshid! Harroshid, calm down!”
But he would not calm down; he continued to yell at Aragorn in Elvish.
Aragorn sighed, and did the only thing he knew of to do when Harroshid was angry. He hugged him. He grasped his arms around Harroshid’s slim back, pulling him to his chest so that Harroshid was crying into his shirt. “Shhh…it’s okay. I don’t want you to go because I’m afraid that I won’t be able to protect you. I’m going to have to be keeping an eye on the Hobbits and on Boromir. I’ll also have to try and stop Gimli and Legolas from tearing each other apart. And if I can’t keep an eye on you, you will most likely get hurt. And I don’t want that.” He smiled down at the young man, and kissed him on the forehead. “Now, say that you won’t try and wrangle your way into coming with us.”
Harroshid sighed. “I won’t.”
“Good boy. Why don’t you go play with Frodo and the others? I’m sure they’d welcome the company.”
Harroshid nodded and left the room, escaping to the gardens again. The sun was still up, yet it was setting to go to sleep and allow the moon to handle the light for a while.
Harroshid stretched out, popping the muscles in his back. The sun felt so good against his skin, as did the soft grass.
Small specks of light dappled over his face, streaming through the leaves of the tall tree above him.
“You’re here again?” came the calm voice of his father.
Harroshid laughed. “Yeah. I’m running from Arwen.”
“Harroshid, why must you continuously run from her? She just wants to talk to you about~”
“I know what she wants to talk to me about, father. And I’m not going to listen. I want to go. Why shouldn’t I? I mean...” he paused when Elrond sat down, “What reason do I have not to go?”
His father sighed, “Harroshid, you need to understand. We already have one of our own kind to help with this.”
“Legolas is not one of our kind. Why can he do it alone with them?”
“Harroshid! You are not going and that is final!”
Harroshid’s eyes widened he’d never yelled at him before…He looked down at the emerald green grass, defeat clear in his eyes. “All right, father…I won’t go…”
“Good. Now, why don’t you go –“
“Play with the hobbits?”
“How did you?”
“Estel.”
“Ah. Well, there’s one man you’ll listen to. Now go.”
Harroshid sighed again and left to his room, not really feeling up to dealing with the hobbits and them jabbering over what they thought they might run into on this ‘exciting adventure’.
All he had to do right now was either sleep or try and concoct a way to join the others in their journey…hmmm…the latter sounded like a very tempting choice…
 
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
 
The next morning, Arwen hugged Aragorn good-bye.
Harroshid wished them all good luck on their trip, smiling sadly.
Frodo noticed the look. “Harroshid. Don’t look so sad. We’ll come back as soon as we can.”
Harroshid nodded. “I know, Frodo…just…try to come back in one piece, okay?”
Frodo nodded back, and Aragorn stepped towards Harroshid. “Harroshid?”
“Yes, Estel?”
“Don’t I get a hug good-bye?”
Harroshid blinked, and very hesitantly hugged Aragorn. “Come back safe, Estel.” He muttered, and then broke away as quickly as he could.
He could never really be in the arms of Aragorn…no matter how much he might wish it could be so…
Elrond bid them a final good-bye and they set off, disappearing from their sights.
Harroshid departed from the Rivendell Entrance Hall last, running to his room.
For the rest of the day, he appeared normal. He acted a little mad at not being able to go, but everyone assumed that he would get over it.
That night, when everyone was asleep, Harroshid swept out of his room, a bag over his shoulder filled with everything he’d need.
He mounted Kinamonu and set off as quietly as he could until he was passed the gates of Rivendell and on the Road.
Now, he was going to find Aragorn and the others.
No matter what got in his way.
 
A/N: Okay, that’s the first chapter. I’m going to write more later because the plot bunny bit me pretty hard on this idea. I hope you all enjoyed my first fanfic! And I will try to make all chapters this long. That means that my updates will be far and few between.