Chapter 1: Manar

Disclaimer: I own the plot, though I apologize if it's been done before. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling; Lord of the Rings belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien.

Title: Elda Kundu, Kurutar – There And Back Again: A Wizard’s Tale

Author: Jess S

Summary: During the summer after fourth year, Harry makes an innocent wish... which takes him to a different world. He needs to find a way home, but first he has to decide where his home really is... (LOTR/HP)

Recap of the story, thus far: At midnight, on his fifteenth birthday, Harry made a wish on a wizarding birthday cake, sent to him by the Weasleys. He wanted to escape the agony Voldemort's resurrection was bringing about in both pressure and pain, and he wanted to feel safe and loved. The wish sent him to Middle Earth. At the same time, while her husband was welcoming their son-in-law and only granddaughter to their home, Galadriel of Lothlórien looking into her mirror and witnessed the death of the Potters, the first fall of Voldemort and the rise of 'the Boy-Who-Lived.' After suffering the amplified the agony the mirror reflected from the failed  'killing curse' through to her, Galadriel realized that the boy she had envisioned had been sent to Arda, landing just along her land's borders...

Dedication: To everyone on the TandBA mailing list that waited so long for this, and offered to help with only a little opposition.

Chapter 1 - Completed: 4/20/2008

Elda Kundu, Kurutar

There And Back Again: Part I – A Wizard’s Tale

Part 1 – On Middle Earth

A Harry Potter/Lord of the Rings Crossover

Chapter 1: Manar

By Jess S

 

~ * Caras Galadon, 118 TA, Early Winter * ~

 

It was early morning, the suns rays having just appeared on the horizon, just barely piercing the leafy treetops of Caras Galadon, mingling with the quiet mist that embraced the ancient trees, which were outlined by tiny, glimmering Elvish lights.

However, one person had risen some time before and now stood on a balcony to his personal chambers, high up in the treetops, watching as the Galadhrim woke. He appeared perfectly comfortable with his surroundings, as though he belonged there.

That in itself was peculiar. For Caras Galadon, often called ‘the heart of Elvendom on Earth’, was the home of the Elves of Lothlórien, ruled by Galadriel, one of the three Elven Ring Bearers and her husband, Celeborn. The Elves, an immortal people, rarely welcomed mortals into their homes. They were gracious hosts; courteous and wise to the point of which most mortals could not comprehend. But it hurt them to watch youth leave the faces and forms of mortal friends. It hurt to know that any such friends would be lost within a time frame that was to them little more than the blink of an eye. Some mortals lived longer than others, others less, but they all fell to the Gift of Man eventually. It was for that reason that humans rarely set foot amongst the Galadhrim. It was also why Lothlórien’s borders were well protected against such an occurrence, both by Elven guards and the encouraged dispersion of the mystifying tales that were spread amongst the mortals, increasing their already numerous suspicions and keeping them away from the ancient sanctuary.



At first glance, you could undoubtedly mistake the man for one of the Elven race. He bore the innate grace, elegance and charm the Elves were famed for. His face and form displayed all-too-apparent youth, but his eyes held some of the wisdom that can only come with age and experience. He even had the radiant, elegantly sculpted features and carefully proportioned, honed muscles the Elves prided themselves on.

 

But he was certainly not an elf.

 

He had changed since his coming to the eldest people of Middle Earth, true. He wasn't the Boy-Who-Lived anymore; for he wasn't really a boy at all, as young as he was by Elven standards. He had lived amongst the Galadhrim for nigh on twenty years: ageless, but not unchanging.

 

His apparent immortality had been a point of great interest for the Elven people who had so kindly taken him in, healed him, sheltered him, and helped him become accustom to the strange world his heart-felt wish had brought him to on his fifteenth birthday. Renowned for their scholarly skills, Elrond of Imladris and Celeborn of Lothlórien had not disappointed when they had been presented with this puzzle. Until he found a way to return native world – which he hadn't, yet – there was no way to really be sure which of their theories were correct. But the theory that withstood the most scrutiny thus far had been proposed by Elrond, after dozens of other theories had already been discounted. He reasoned that because Harry – or Elerossë, as the Elves had named him – was not truly a creature of Arda, the passage of time on Arda shouldn't affect him. Two decades of agelessness seemed to validate the theory.

 

Now thirty-five, and not quite as homesick as he had been all those years before, Elerossë watched as his adoptive-kin rose to greet the dawn, as they always seemed to do.

 

Life with the Galadhrim had certainly proved to be different from anything Elerossë had seen before coming to this world. The splendor and senescence of Hogwarts faded before the ages that the majestic Lothlórien had literally stood and grown, along with the grace being an Elven haven had entitled it to possess. The Elves of the Golden Wood themselves were always kind to him, the gentle compassion his various tutors in the Elven languages and customs had shown, along with the respect they were all to happy to share with him had smoothed away much of the nervousness that his lacking upbringing with his relatives had left him. He was still learning, but his time with the elves had taught him a great deal, and he had grown, if a bit slowly. He knew he had a long way to go, which in truth only showed how much he had grown. But whether or not his future was completely within the Elven realm was up for debate.

 

This was because it wasn't long after his arrival that the rulers of Lothlórien had chosen to adopt him, as he was only a child in both his own world and theirs, and needed a place to truly call ‘home’ in their world. So they had given him a home, and gladly.

 

They had also chosen to not only foster him, but fully adopt him: formal blood ritual and all. That ritual had not changed much, but it had allowed him to feel an innate connection to all the Eldar, his adoptive family especially. It had also given him some Elven traits, not the ears, but his skin looked distinctly elven in appearance, he even glowed whenever he was especially happy – or anywhere near his foster-family for some unexplained reason. He’d also gained about two whole inches in the week following the ritual, a change that had mercifully occurred while he was sleeping. He also didn’t think he was as sensitive to heat and cold as he used to be, though he didn’t really know for sure. In contrast, all of his other senses were noticeably sharper, and like all the Eldar he now had a distinctive empathetic connection to nature – all growing things – and he could hear the songs of the trees as well as the birds.

 

It had taken Lord Celeborn a little more time to get used to the idea of being a father to a teenage-wizard, but he had gradual warmed to the idea. Galadriel, after witnessing some flashes of his life with her Sight and the formation of strong a telepathic bond during his coming to Middle Earth had taken to him immediately. Their daughter, Celebrían had been much the same. It had been an interesting experience, becoming part of a real, loving family. Similar to the hominess he felt with the Weasleys, but deeper... and, honestly, more his own. He could easily see how Ron felt overshadowed by his abundance of older siblings, and while such a large family was certainly fun, it was not the way he would choose to live himself. The small, close, loving relationship he shared with his new Elven family was much more to his taste, and was quite welcome in helping him adjust to this strange new world.

 

Of course, interestingly enough, the Elf his Elven-sister had ended up marrying had just arrived in Lothlórien to visit with the Lord and Lady the day Harry arrived, so he got to know Elrond even as his new foster sister was falling in love with the Elven lord. Their wedding, which took place a little over two years after his arrival, was a memory he would cherish for a long time come... Though on days like this he really did miss his big sister...

 

He had thought of visiting with Celebrían and Elrond in Imladris, but his parents weren’t willing to even consider it until they were sure he was completely adjusted to this world. Harry sometimes thought they really believed he might just wake up one day and not be able to breathe the alien air or something like that, from how protective they were. Of course, to Elven standards three-and-half centuries was still rather young, and Elves were very protective of the few youths that lived among them. And to be fair, he knew from his studies that there were many dangers in this world, not the least of this were the Dark Lord’s primary soldiers: the Orcs of Mordor, which had plagued the lands around the Golden Wood for decades, sometimes even attacking in force, but more often than not preying on those that traveled in small parties between realms.

 

Taking all of that into account, he also had to add the fact that when his rather protective guardians made him a part of their family, he had become someone to the Elves; a son to Celeborn and Galadriel, and a brother to Celebrían and Elrond, but more than that to the Galadhrim as a whole. When the rulers of the Golden Wood had offered him a proper home amongst the Elves they had, in fact, made him one of Middle Earth’s Elven royals. Not many people knew of this fact. His identity, and everything about him, was one of the Golden Wood’s most well kept secrets. In Middle Earth, outside of the Elves of Lothlórien themselves, Lord Elrond, his family and council, no one knew of his existence. And that was the way his foster parents wanted to keep it. Indefinitely. Which meant that he really should not leave the well protected borders of the Golden Wood.

 

But... in his world a thirty-five-year-old wizard would be entitled to do whatever they wished with their lives! And with Hermione’s Hogwarts Library Compilation, combined with the tutelage Galadriel, Celeborn and several Galadhrim scholars had been happy to offer him he was a very well-educated wizard. A wizard who wanted to see the world...



“Good morning, Elerossë.” A familiar, radiant voice greeted him as its owner drew near.


Harry turned and smiled as the Lady of Lothlórien came up beside him. “Good morning, Naneth.” He replied, while bowing respectfully, as he had been taught and felt was proper. His Elven name, Elerossë, had been chosen for him by the very lady that stood before him now, who he addressed as both respected and beloved mother. (Mother)


It had taken some time, nearly all of the past few decades, but after a great deal of studying and practice, with the help of his new friends and family, Harry had in fact managed to learn the languages and customs of the Eldar… And had come to accept them as his own.

“Are you well, ion nîn?” Galadriel asked, her silver-blue eyes gazing into his searchingly. (my son)


That was another thing that had been another change for the young wizard to adjust to when he first came here. Before no one could really meet his gaze, at least not so directly, because his glasses always got in the way. But said glasses had been broken on his brutal ride to Arda, leaving him nearly blind. That had taken a bit of explaining, as he had not reacted very well when he had awoken in the Elven city, to be greeted by the Lady of Light herself; who was at the time, to him, a strange glowing being that he could barely see and whose voice he did not recognize. However, once they realized that Harry really couldn’t see anything, the Elves had endeavored to change that... and succeeded. Through the combined skills of Lady Galadriel and her soon-to-be son-in-law, the knowledge of Lord Celeborn, and the support of Lady Celebrían, Harry had been given flawless vision, and had been able to truly see the Elves with it only a few days after his initial awakening.

“Fine, hannon le,” He replied quietly. (thank you)
 
The Lady of Light raised a silvery eyebrow. “Ai?” She asked, holding his gaze. <Oh?>
 
After a moment, Harry looked away.

Lady Galadriel sighed, and shook her head, “Please don't hide inside yourself, Elerossë.” She beseeched him quietly, extending her pale hand and gently turning his head towards her, to meet his eyes once more. "You should know by now that it is not really possible. And it only brings suffering."


After a moment, Harry nodded. “Of course, Nana, forgive me." (Mom)

“Ú-moe edhored.” Galadriel replied softly, releasing him. "Now tell me," she continued. "What is bothering you?" <There is nothing to forgive.>


Harry sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t know…" he replied, sincerely. "I feel... lost... no... not lost, only..."


"Misplaced?" his foster mother offered.


Immediately, he shook his head, “I suppose,” he sighed, "I... I don’t know..."


Galadriel sighed, offering a sad smile. "It is only natural that you feel out of place here, Elerossë." She offered. “There is nothing wrong with that."


Harry shook his head, "I know... but it really isn’t that... I got over my homesickness a long time ago..."

 

She continued to watch him for several minutes before sighing, and shaking her head. "Then perhaps you simply feel trapped here." She raised a hand to forestall his protest, "It is quite natural. In fact, it only makes you more like us... Some of our people experience a similar feeling." The Lady of Light sighed, meeting her foster son’s vivid eyes, so unlike any she’d ever seen before, a treasure beyond compare, hiding the pain she knew he hid deep within his mind. “Travel may well help you... If I recall correctly, you expressed an interest in seeing the rest of Middle Earth not too long ago? Or visiting your sister?"

 

After a moment of contemplation he nodded, meeting his foster mother's eyes with his birth mother's dominant innate feature filled with hopefulness.

 

The Bearer of Nenya sighed, and after a few minutes of inner contemplation, she too nodded and offered him a kind, understanding smile as she replied. "Very well, I will discuss the matter with my lord husband..."

 

Which meant, Harry knew, that unless she saw some horrible doom for him in her mirror, he would undoubtedly be allowed to explore the land outside The Wood in a short while...

 

~ * Caras Galadon, 118 TA, Early Winter * ~

 

A few days later Lothlórien’s March Warden bowed deeply to his Lord and Lady, accepting the task they offered him. "I would be honored to accompany our prince, my lady."

 

Galadriel nodded, smiling slightly. "Thank you, Haldir..." she then turned her eyes to her foster son, "I hope you find what you’re looking for, my son." She murmured, bending down slightly to place a gentle kiss on his brow, right above his scar. "Namárië…" <Farewell>

 

Celeborn offered his foster son a soft smile also, only a slight amount of doubt visible in his well-controlled visage as be nodded to him, before turning to Haldir and offering him a few short words, too quietly for Elerossë to hear, but of which he didn't doubt consisted of something along the lines of 'guard him well' and possibly 'safe journey.'

 

A short time later, Harry and his friend – and undoubtedly guardian, Harry was actually surprised his foster parents hadn’t insisted on a full company of guards – left their home, and proceeded north, toward Imladris, as his quest to learn more of the world he was coming to accept as home, began.

 

~ * Imladris, 119 TA, Mid-Winter * ~

 

"Welcome to Imladris, Heru Elerossë," the Lord of Imladris offered with a kind, welcoming smile as both the young wizard and his much older guardian reached his house's steps some weeks later. "It is an honor to offer you accommodation within these walls. And you as well, Haldir Dorthon o Lórien."

 

"Hannon le, Heru Elrond," Harry offered in return as both he and his companion of the last few months bowed respectfully, their right hands over their hearts. “Is Celebrían here?” he asked, looking around in puzzlement. He'd been looking forward to seeing his foster-sister, and courtesy to equals preferred her attendance now…yet she were nowhere to be seen. <Thank you, Lord Elrond,>

 

His brother-in-law sighed, shaking his head. “I am afraid you chose an unfortunate time to arrive... Unfortunate in that you are several days earlier than we were expecting. Did you, per chance, encounter a company of Elves from here on your way in? They left for Lothlórien only a few days ago.”

 

“No, sorry. We took a rather round about way of getting here...” Harry replied, very pointedly not looking at his guardian, who was probably still annoyed at the number to times Harry had actually managed to get the great March Warden lost on a route he had undertaken hundreds of times before. The idea Harry had remembered from Earth, which he’d tried to win Haldir over with, of the journey being more important than the destination, didn’t seem to satisfy him.

 

Elrond’s lips twitched slightly as he sensed an obvious story behind the response, but seeing the clearly disgruntled look on the long-time March Warden’s face, he refrained from asking at that point in time and shook his head. “Quite all right, of course. I only ask because they were actually instructed to stall you if they did meet you. Celebrían has been putting together a welcoming celebration for you, and has been quite insistent that she manage all of it personally. I sent a servant to see if she might relinquish command to one of our advisors in order to come greet you, but we shall have to wait and see what she—” he stopped as they heard the sound of approaching, hurried footsteps.

 

A moment later the Elven-Lady they’d been speak of emerged from the main entrance to the House of Elrond, her glowing beauty undimmed by the texture the rush had offered her gown and hair. If anything, her charm was only enhanced by the dazzling smile on her face and in her eyes. "Elerossë! Onooro nin! Suilaid!" she offered while hurrying forward to capture him in an affectionate embrace. <My brother! Greetings!>

 

"Mára aurë, Celebrían," Harry returned with an equally bright smile. His foster-sister and her husband had been among those who’d gone to great lengths to welcome him to Arda, and she’d devoted a great deal of time to educating him in the Elven traditions, the histories of Middle Earth, and whatnot. But, unlike his tutors, who'd all treated him as 'the young foster son of their Lord and Lady’; she'd treated him as a baby brother, an equal and a friend after a fashion...for which he was grateful. It was one of the things that had made him understand just how possible it was to form a friendship with someone so strong that it might endure eternity's many trials...  <Hello,>

 

~ * Imladris, 119-146 TA * ~

 

Happy to have a new haven to explore, and to see Celebrían and Elrond again, Harry hadn’t been all that hard to convince into settling in Imladris for quite some time.

 

It was not time that he regretted spending at all, having enjoyed it immensely. He had been pushed into continuing his studies, both scholastically and in the arts of war, but even that had been enjoyable. All of his tutors, being members of Lord Elrond’s close council, knew who he was and had been happy to instruct him. On the infrequent occasions Haldir chose to report back to Celeborn and Galadriel, Harry trained with Glorfindel, the Arms Commander of Imladris, regularly and with Elrond from time to time as well. He had improved much under their tutelage, for which he didn’t doubt his bodyguard was grateful. Not that he could blame him, Harry really had been a fool to wander off on him and get caught by Arda’s brand of Acromantula not long after they had left the protection of the Golden Wood. He did hope, though, that this training would help Haldir outgrow the over-protective phase he was currently quite comfortable in, at least enough to give Harry a little more space to grow in on his own.

 

Harry had initially been planning on setting out from the House of Elrond after about two decades, figuring that spending the same amount of time there as he had in Lothlórien was only fair, but Celebrían had foiled those plans. Nevertheless, he was more than happy to stay in Imladris a bit longer after his foster-sister announced that she and Elrond were expecting in the one-hundred and thirty-eighth year of the Third Age. In the next year of the Age, she gave birth to twins; two little terrors the Valley would learn to both love and love to hate in years to come as they made their place on Middle Earth much the same way the Weasley twins had done back on the Wizarding part of Harry’s Earth, as pranksters. Still, the experience of acting as an Uncle to two young Elflings kept him occupied and content for several more years.

 

Nonetheless, he still wanted to see more of the world, so shortly after Elladan and Elrohir’s sixth birthday, Harry was allowed to move on once Haldir had returned to guard him. His brother-in-law’s House had held many more things to entertain the young wizard, as it served a resting place for many travelers, and thereby allowed him to meet many new friends, particularly after the Elves of Imladris realized that he was, in fact, not mortal. Though his origins were still a closely guarded secret to all but a select few, he had remained the picture of youth throughout the whole of his stay, as well as an obviously much-loved friend of the House of Elrond, and as such had eventually been wholly accepted and welcomed by all of the valley’s immortal residents. He had also chosen to spend so much time in this particular Elven sanctuary out of  a desire to meet some of this world’s wizards, recently come to Middle Earth from Valinor with the dawning of the Third Age*, as a few of them did frequent Lord Elrond’s hospitality from time to time. Alas, none visited Imladris in the decades he resided there, so he finally chose to move on once more, after allowing his brother-in-law to extract a promise that should he meet the Istari Mithrandir on his journeys throughout Middle Earth, Harry would not explain the puzzle his very existence presented, and would make the old Istari work for the answers he would certainly seek.

 

Mindful of how protective his bodyguard still was of him, Harry allowed Elrond to assign a detail of guards to protect him, hoping that doing so would help put Haldir’s unease to rest if only a little bit. So with Haldir and said detail of guards shadowing his every move, he had continued his exploration of Middle Earth. Under the watchful eye of his guards, and assisted by the guidance they were willing to offer, he met the mortal men of this world, along with many wonders outside of the Elven realms. More accustom to the wonders of the mortals and their lands, the Elves of Imladris had proved invaluable guides in the early years of their exploration, as they knew of many great wonders in nature, architecture and myths, and were quite happy to help him find them and enjoy them as well. They also helped him greatly improve his skills as a hunter, as only experience can, and had introduced him to some of the world’s longer-lived mortals, the Dúnedain or Rangers, who were also excellent teachers in this area of expertise.

 

After several more years of travel, Harry had almost managed to convince the proud and protective March Warden that he could return home and leave Harry to look after himself when they entered the village of Bree. While Haldir was honestly considering it, they had visited the Hobbits of the Shire. As if set in motion by Fate to demonstrate Harry’s poor luck, they would not remain in the Shire long, because shortly after they arrived, they found it under attack by a band of Orcs, and very nearly saved the Halflings single-handedly with a combination of Haldir’s outright skill in combat and Harry’s magic. They would undoubtedly have been welcome for quite some time after that, as heroes, but Harry still didn’t like bearing the mark of a hero and all that went along with it, so they very quickly moved on once more.*

 

From there they mostly wandered, passing Imladris entirely due to Harry’s desire to continue exploring. Haldir was quite relieved when his young lord decided to forgo attempting the Pass of Caradhas in favor of exploring the Gap of Rohan* and the lands of the Horse lords. Though relations between men and elves were still fairly tense in these times, they found themselves welcome in the hall of Rohan’s king, for the short time they chose to remain, before taking the west road to the city of Osgiliath.

 

Entranced by the seemingly hidden magicks that surround the capital and chief city of Gondor*, Harry chose to live amongst its people along the bands of the Great River for many months. During that time he’d placed a magical disguise on Haldir to avoid questions, and was surprised to find that holding the fairly complex bit of spell work up for a fairly prolonged period of time no longer tired him at all. After a few months however, he was drawn into one of the City of Men’s conflicts, and chose to leave the city with a small army – and a deeply disproving bodyguard in tow – to march towards the borders of Mordor and drive back the increasingly large number of Orcs that were spilling through the Black Gate.*

 

~ * The Morannon of Mordor, 151 TA * ~

 

It was an evil thing, to be sure. Harry could feel the evil magic that resonated from the black gates and the land beyond them. He could sense the dormant power of the wicked land’s enduring lord, as well, just as he realized he’d always been able to sense the very existence of Voldemort, to a somewhat lesser extent.

 

Sauron was not Voldemort. He knew this. His world’s Dark Lord and the creator of the Ring of Power were two very different beings, though similar in some ways.

 

He knew from the feel of that enduring, wicked power, that the Lord of the Rings would eventually return to continue his destructive quest. How and when were not truly important. It would happen. And with it would begin a war the likes of which he doubted his world had ever seen. The Muggle World Wars might compare, but those were still wars between different factions of men, short bouts of bloodshed between varying factions of one petulant race. Those wars were not wars between different races all fighting for their right to exist. That in a way made Voldemort a better comparison, if only because he was exterminating whole races and species while still trying to ‘improve’ upon the human race through genocide. But still, not the same. Never the same.

 

This realization struck him deeply, and was what finally convinced him to let Haldir lead him home after several skirmishes between the army of men and the Orcs of Mordor over the course of a few months time. So they bid their farewells to their comrades before making their way to the place their journey had begun many years before. His amusement at Haldir’s obvious relief at both leaving the company of men and appearing as himself once more barely managed to relieve the darkness his recent experiences and expectations had shadowed his soul with.

 

~ * Lothlórien, 152 TA, Spring * ~

 

By the time they had returned the safety of Caras Galadon, to his foster-family and people’s great joy, Harry was beyond weary and wanted nothing more but to rest within the well-protected sanctuary’s peaceful city for a time. This pleased his foster-mother greatly. She had been watching him in her mirror as best she could, but hadn’t stopped worrying about the son of her heart until the day he returned to her embrace more than three decades after he’d last left it.

 

Still, she did not doubt that his spirit would want to wander again in the not too far future, and she would let him; for she had seen how much his first journey had helped him grow and mature as years of isolation within her realm could not.

 

For many years, Harry was content to live in the peaceful Elven Haven, only traveling once beyond its borders to become a guest of the House of Elrond once more for several years, starting in 241 TA shortly before the birth of his niece. When he returned to Lothlórien a few years afterwards, he remained well within its borders, as his first journey had taught him to value the serenity and security of his foster-family’s realm.

 

Much of that time he spent considering his fate in both Middle Earth and his own Earth, which he knew he had to return to. Having already acquainted his family with the prophecy he knew tied him to Voldemort, they too had accepted that he would one day need to return. It was one of the reasons they’d been so insistent on both educating him, training him and protecting him. Though they’d certainly both guarded his innocence and prepared him for his destiny better than Dumbledore had apparently cared too, he did not know for sure if he would ever be ready to return.

 

Oh, he’d made many preparations for that very return. After only a few short months there, Galadriel and Celeborn had begun helping him learn how to meditate, and he’d soon made use of the Alitum Globe that Ginny Weasley had given him for his fifteenth birthday. But not in the way Ginny had obviously intended. For he had ended up storing all that he could remember of the first fifteen years of his life in the little penseive, so that he might refresh his memories before returning to that life. It had been a trying feet, to be sure, but would undoubtedly prove to have been worth it when the time came to leave Middle Earth.

 

Thoughts of returning clouded his mind frequently if he was not careful to distract himself. His foster family were quick to steer such thoughts away with careful, concerned counsel – which Galadriel could give both in person and from a distance telepathically. None of the elves were ever content to let him brood for long. His foster father was ever on a quest to educate his Wizarding foster-son to the best of his – indisputably great – abilities. Galadriel always kept at least one eye on him. As, he suspected, did most of the Galadhrim, though the thought didn’t truly bother him as it once had. Under such constant care and supervision, brooding wasn’t really ever an option for long. Especially if he didn’t want to upset his foster-mother, who always noticed.

 

So he did his best to keep his mind active and entertained. There were plenty of ways to do so, after all. There were his scholarly studies under Celeborn’s care, and his tutelage in the arts of healing with Galadriel, Elrond, or some of the other Galadhrim’s healers. Training, he found was a particularly good way to ward them off. Whether it was with Haldir and the other warriors of the Golden Wood, who were always more than happy to train with him, or training his magic. Whatever it took, such gloomy thoughts never held his mind for long when they came. But they did come. Even under the peaceful boughs of the fair Mallorns.

 

Even that peace, however, was soon broken by the arrival of his foster-sister and several other Elves from Imladris. Only a few decades younger than him, his twin nephews were true pranksters at heart, though they were generally rather well-behaved in their grandparents’ realm. His niece was a little angel that all the Elves were quite happy to dote on, for she was the youngest Elfling currently residing upon Middle Earth and thus the child of them all. He had been overjoyed to see Celebrían and Elrond again, but had been rather startled when she introduced him to the ladies that had accompanied her to her parent’s realm...

 

~ * Lothlórien, 253 TA, Summer * ~

 

“Really, onooro nîn,” Celeborn and Galadriel’s daughter laughed as she led her adoptive brother and her own dear friend up into the branches of one of Caras Galadhon’s many telan, this one the host to her friends and ladies-maids that had traveled hear with her from Imladris. “It has not been that long!”  <my brother>

 

“Most mortals would argue otherwise, melin onoone,” Harry pointed out with a small smile.  <dear sister>

 

“But we have long established that you are not mortal! As you are still arguing with me centuries after you first came into our world!”

 

Harry smiled more widely than before, but did not reply as movement on the landing outside their destination’s entryway caught his eye, and he felt his breath catch in his throat as his eyes locked with another’s pair from above.

 

Violet hued starlight... Elven eyes, still holding some of the light of the newborn stars the earliest of the Eldar had witnessed when they first came into being on Arda, but tinted amethyst instead of the far more common silver... starlight in the early twilight, rather than deep night.

 

He was drawn out of his captivation when he was lightly jostled around, forcing him to grab onto the railing of the telan’s ascending stairwell even though the firm grip his sister had on his shoulder would undoubtedly have kept him from falling. He shook his head as he forced himself to not look past her and instead to meet her worried silver gaze and realize that she had clearly been trying to get his attention for some time.

 

“...nin? Elerossë! Are you well, onooro nîn?” Celebrían’s voice was not quite frantic, but very clearly worried, as were her slightly darkened eyes. <my brother?>

 

Seeing this – and finally making the mental connection to be concerned himself by this – he forced himself to meet her gaze steadily, “Yes, Celebrían, I am well.” He offered as he shook his head and offered her a slight, diffident smile. “I’m sorry. My mind wandered.”

 

The Lady of Imladris continued to hold his gaze for several long moments, before she nodded in acceptance, though there was still a slight frown upon her brow. “Quite alright, onooro nîn. No one is perfect, after all, least of all you.” Before he could reply in outrage or otherwise she finally turned and hurried up the last few steps to the landing, smiling in greeting to the ladies who awaited them there. Nonetheless, half of her attention was still upon him as he slowly completely the journey to the veranda himself.

 

Harry noticed this, but paid it little mind as his eyes returned to the vibrant gaze that had so captivated him moments before.

 

The lady said eyes belonged to had not moved either, had barely even nodded politely in greeting at the lady’s arrival. Her enchanting eyes were set in a heart-shaped face that was flawless and radiant, as was common to Elven kind. More common than her eyes, but still unique was the dark tresses* that were drawn partially away from the fair face into many more of the intricate Elven braids than he could ever find the patience for with his own hair. *

 

She was a beauty, to be sure. Perhaps one of the fairest maidens in the Elven realm, even when standing alongside the Lady of Light’s daughter, she had her own brilliance. More than her dark hair and vivid violet eyes, though. There was something else there. Something charismatic and enchanting that touched his very soul.

 

He was hesitant to give it any more thought than that, as he neared the vision on the moonlit balcony. For though it was clearly something she had felt too, if the faint but nonetheless unusual blush gracing her fair cheeks was any indication, it was not something he could fully grasp.

 

The feelings coursing threw him were not lust. That was something he had experienced to some degree while traveling throughout Middle Earth. The first, embarrassing episode was also something that his guards from Imladris had taken great pleasure in poking fun at after they had left the tavern where he’d made one more step along the path to adulthood. It had been much later in actual life than was common among his own mortal, wizard kind, but he had been raised among elves and had therefore been raised to their standards... under which he had been a child well into the end of his first century. But that wasn’t what this was.

 

It was closer to what he had felt when he first found out he was a wizard. When Hagrid had introduced him to Diagon Alley and he had first waved his wand. A connection of sorts, though something greater still... Greater even than the sense of homecoming he’d always felt upon returning to Hogwarts year after year.

 

“...‘Erossë!” Celebrían’s half-annoyed, half-amused voice once again forced him back to the waking world, and to where his adoptive-kin stood beside the captivating lady.

 

“S-sorry, Celebrían,” Harry apologized once again.

 

Celebrían nodded, raising an eyebrow. “Your mind is wandering quite a bit today...” she shook her head before he could apologize again. “Dan, I still want you to meet my friends from Imladris.” She nodded to the lady farthest from her on the balcony. “May I introduce Lady Órelindë Silimaurë?”

 

“Mae govannen,” Harry stepped forward and bowed slightly to place a slight kiss on the back of the lady’s hand, and continued to do so with various salutations along the way until he finally reached the violet-eye lady beside his foster-kin.

 

“And finally, may I introduce Lady Ránewen Galathil, who is a kinswoman to the brothers Dorthon?”

 

Again Harry moved forward, feeling as though he were certainly in a dream as he bowed and raised the lady’s hand to his lips, before rising to meet her eyes once more. “Luhta, Heri Galathil,” <Enchanted, Lady Galathil,> he offered with a small hesitant smile.

 

“My lord, please call me Ránëwén.”

 

“Gladly, my lady, but then you must return the favor.” He replied with a small smile, “Im Elerossë.”

 

“Mae govannen, Elerossë-tur.” <Well-met, Lord Elerossë>

 

“No, no,” he shook his head, not noticing that he had yet to release her hand. “Just Elerossë, please,” he insisted, to be rewarded with a brilliant smile and a less faint blush.

 

Too caught up in their own thoughts, neither noticed the speculative gleam that had entered his sister’s bright eyes as she watched them, even as the other ladies, already tired from their travels, had already begun to withdraw, having only temporarily forestalled the time to meet their friend’s famous foster-kin.

 

After what could have been an eternity all in a few short moments, they were drawn back to the conscious world from some slight noise down below the telan. It was then that Harry noticed he was still holding the Lady Ránewen’s hand. Elegant and slight, it fit easily and comfortably in his hand, even as the touch of her skin on his was unnaturally warming, almost electric, but so very right...

 

It was strange...this rightness. This absolute certainty that something was right. Even Hogwarts had never been so sure. Nothing in his life had been. And thus... it felt strange, but not, necessarily, bad.

 

“Perhaps we should all turn in for the night?” Celebrían’s voice drew him out of his thoughts, as it apparently affected Ránewen similarly, bringing their attention to her. “It was a rather long journey.”

 

“Oh – Yes! Yes, of course. You must be exhausted.” Harry nodded, finally forcing himself to relinquish the gentle grasp he’d had on the violet-eyed lady’s hand. “Sleep well, Heri Ránewen,” he offered with a bow, nodding to Celebrían as she head down the stairs ahead of him, without paying much mind to the calculative look on her face as he stole one last look at her fair friend before forcing himself to begin the descent back to the forest floor. He was halted halfway down in his hurried descent by a hesitant inquiry from above.

 

“M-My lord?” the lady called, leaning over the telan’s shimmering rail to meet his gaze once more, “Perhaps we might meet again in the morning?” she asked, more sure but still hesitant at the end of her inquiry.

 

Harry took a deep breath, willing his voice steady before calling up to her with a smile, “I would like that very much, my lady...”

 

“In the morning then?”

 

“Yes, gladly.

 

After a moment of weighted silence, Celebrían’s voice came up from the forest floor, sounding somewhat dry, “Maar mori.” <Good night.>

 

With a start both echoed her hurriedly, before turning to go separate directions, small half-smiles on their faces.

 

~~~

 

They had gone slowly at first; ignoring the pull of this strange – but oh-so-right – bond they shared in favor of getting to know one another. With an abundance of romantic getaways all about the boughs of shining trees with glittering leaves and charming songs echoing dreamily through the air around them, the Golden Wood was an ideal location for a budding romance to blossom.

 

It had helped that his foster family seemed to heartily approve of the match, pushing them together at every chance they could. Even Arwen, in her infinite wisdom achieved after all of twelve years of life, had hinted at it a few times, and though it was strange to hear, each hint was appreciated nonetheless.

 

However, as the air began to chill, Harry grew to realize that he could not really bring himself to fully accept this romance right way. Though he felt nothing but great joy whenever he was graced with his fair lady’s presence, the idea of marrying her or even taking steps in that direction almost seemed like he was giving up on returning to his native world. And as much as he loved Ránewen and her Arda, he was needed back on his Earth. It was something he’d long ago accepted, and it wasn’t something he was willing to give up on.

 

Despite the fact that he felt drawn to Ránewen like nothing he’d ever felt before, despite the comfort and happiness he drew from her very presence, he wasn’t ready to let himself feel that strange need and emotion. Not yet.

 

So he left again...

 

~ * Lothlórien, 253 TA, Autumn * ~

 

“Nah gwannatha sin o heri lîn?” Galadriel asked of her foster son as she watched him slip out of his telan in the light of the only just risen sun, dressed and lightly packed for travel as Haldir had taught him some centuries before. <Is this how you would take your leave of your lady?>

 

Harry sighed as he turned to place a gentle kiss on his foster mother’s cheek, and accept the comforting hug she offered. “Edhored, amil nin.” <Forgive me, mother.>

 

Galadriel caught the wizard’s chin as he pulled away, holding him in place. “No, I am not the lady you are neglecting, Elerossë,” she offered, her voice still gentle but holding a small note of the disapproval he could see in her eyes and the slight frown that was pulling at her lips.

 

This drew another sigh from the still young wizard as he pulled away, “Let it be, amil nin.”

 

“No, ion nin,” the Lady of Light shook her head, finally allowing the frown that she had been suppressing to unhappily grace her face. “It pains me to watch you flee and hide from love and happiness.”

 

“It is not for me.”

 

“Mankoi?” <Why?>

 

“Because...” Harry shook his head, unexpected anger rising within him at the question. “This is not my world! I cannot say here forever!”

 

At this the Lady of Light actually winced, before millenia of experience and wisdom came forth to help her supress the burst of pain this thought brought so that she could continue to counsel her son in the dilemma she could clearly see his destiny was placing him in. “I know, my son. We all know that you must leave eventually...”

 

Harry sighed, shaking his head as moved a little further away once more, struggling to draw up the inner strength he needed to defy his foster mother’s wishes and leave, as he knew he must. Just as he started to walk away, she continued, making him stop out of respect once more.

 

“But why must you flee from us now?” After several moments of clearly troubled silence, Galadriel shook her head. “I know you love your world, Elerossë. But do we not also have your love?”

 

This made him turn back around and hurry into her open arms, his vivid green eyes brightening with suppressed tears as he clung to the elleth that had taken him in and given him a happy home in this world after his bizarre birthday brought him here so many years before. “Of course you have my love, Ammë.” He murmured into her shoulder, forcing his pained tears back as the only maternal figure he’d really known as his own gently rubbed her hand along the back of his neck, expertly forcing some of the rising tension out. <Mom>

 

“Then why do you flee from us?”

 

Harry was silent for several more moments before he chose to offer his patient foster mother a reply. “I... I do not want to be her end... I don’t want her grace to diminish for love of me. I would have her leave these shores and be with our – with her people... and take the ships to Valinor.”

 

Galadriel sighed, shaking her head again as she continued to gently rub her foster son’s shoulders. “That decision is hers to make, my son. Not yours to deny. ” As she sensed his doubts rising once more in protest she shook her head as she reached into his mind. ‘No, my son. Much as you wish to protect her from the fate she might choose, it is her choice to make. It is a choice she may make with your consent or not, as well.’

 

“What do you mean?” the young wizard asked, confusion clear in his thoughts.

 

‘She may have already decided to bind herself to you. If she recognizes you as her marta, she has every right to. For we each only have one perfect match, and the fact that you were born into another world does not change the fact that you and she are truly meant for one another. All too often many people are forced to settle for someone who is merely similar to their perfect match... And you want to force both Ránewen and yourself to settle for less when your perfect match is right before you?’

 

“My leaving could kill her!”

 

‘Perhaps she will go with you. Either way, whether or not she is willing to take that risk is her choice, my son.’ Galadriel shook her head at the aggravation and confuscion she could still sense from her foster son’s mind. ‘Make no mistake, Elerossë, your Ránewen knows that she will never love another the way she can love you. That is why she might choose to relinquish her immortality. Just as Lúthien chose with Beren in ages long past, better one lifetime with the one she loved, than an eternity on her own, alone.’

 

After several moment of silence Harry shook his head again. “I don’t know...” he murmured, shaking his head as he pulled away from his foster-mother.

 

The Noldor Queen sighed and shook her head, turning her gaze out onto her city of trees from the great royal hall built upon the tallest trees in the wood. Long had her spells of protection as the highest ranking Eldar remaining upon Middle-Earth and her power as the bearer of Nenya, the Ring of Adamant and Water kept her kingdom safe from all harm. Yet it seemed she could do nothing to help her son. No matter how much she wanted to protect all of her people – both of her children, especially – from the cruelty of the world, it was all too apparent that her protection could only extend so far. But Elerossë, at least, was not beyond saving. He just needed time. “Perhaps some travel would be good for you, Elerossë,” she offered gently, granting him a small, kind smile as he turned back to her once more. “So you may go with my good graces. Find what answers you can out in the wilds... and then come back to us. But do not leave your lady waiting too long, for even the kindest of hearts can grow bitter if shown enough cruelty.”

 

“Be iest lîn,” the Elven-raised Wizard replied with a bow, before offering a small, grateful smile and disappearing with a faint ‘pop’. <As you wish,>

 

After a few moments of thoughtful silence, the Lady of Light’s eyebrows snapped together with an almost audible ‘click’ and she quickly sent her mind out after her foster son once more, not surprised to find him as he reappeared on the borders of her realm – cleverly just beyond the patrols of Haldir and his patrols – she quickly entered his mind once more, to scold him none too gently with an annoyed rebuttal, ‘Elerossë Celebornion o Lórien, you still need to take your guards with you!’ <Harry, son of Celeborn of Lothlórien>

 

After several moments of fairly impressive mental silence, her Wizarding son’s somewhat petulant reply came back to her on a mental sigh, ‘Yes, Mother...’

 

~ * Autumn of 253 TA – 500 TA * ~

 

After waiting a few spare hours for his surprised bodyguards to be awakened, prepared for the journey and sent to his side on his foster family’s kingdom’s edge, Harry was finally allowed to set out on his quest for answers several hours later than he’d originally wished to. He was more than a little annoyed, as it was clear that despite the many years of practice he’d devoted to studying Legilimency and Occlumency – under his foster mother’s auspices no less! – despite that time, his mother was still able to reach into his mind with near effortless ease. Though he knew she was both a Legilimens and Occlumens with many, many millennia more experience than he, it still irritated him.

 

Therefore he was in a fairly foul mood when he set out from Lothlórien with the bodyguards Haldir had trained and assigned personally to the Lord and Lady’s foster son several decades before at his side. Harry had nothing against the Míriel brothers, Camthalion and Lólindir, personally, but their relation to the lady he was all-but fleeing pulled at his conscious.

 

Though they could occasionally be just as mischievous as the twin terrors of Imladris, the Míriel’s were well-trained guards and good friends, so they did not mention their cousin, or ask why their lord had so suddenly decided to go exploring again, but their very presence occasionally forced Ránewen into his mind, making him nostalgic and irritable at random intervals in the months to come. Eventually it was enough for them to force him to seek civilization in some form, if only to find distraction, so a few months after leaving the Golden Wood, that was what they did.

 

Harry wasn’t sure if he did it just to be difficult, but the civilization he decided to seek was that of the youngest known race on Arda, the Hobbits of the Shire. Recognized as a hero to their people by some of oldest and most respected members of the race, Harry was quickly welcomed to the Shire and invited to stay long as he liked, even going so far as to allow Harry, Camthalion and Lólindir to build a house to suit their own needs just outside of Hobbiton. If being difficult was his desire, Harry didn’t quite succeed, as the Míriel brothers were among the most adventurous and curious of their race, and were more than happy to spend a century or two – no real time span to an elf – among the new nation of very small, but nonetheless unique and even impressive people.

 

Here Harry learned how to tend the land for the first time, with his guards at his side they helped with some of the more labor intensive tasks that the Hobbits, at half their size, would otherwise need to expend a great deal more time and effort to accomplish. Though difficult at first, a few seasons taught them the rewards of the hard work, and made them respect this people of the Shire all the more. Harry knew back on his own world that undoubtedly similar techniques were used among some Muggles, though many wealthier nations had turn to science to provide larger quantities of food at lesser prices. He did not, however, know much about how farming was done among wizards. Aside from helping Ron de-gnome Mrs. Weasley’s garden one summer, he had never really given Wizarding gardening much thought. Though the mental image of Hobbits having to fight off gnomes, which really weren’t much smaller than them, amused him, it didn’t provide him with any answers to his questions. Some browsing through the remarkably useful gift Hermione had given him on his fifteenth birthday had provided some information of trade with Muggles in medieval and modern times, Herbology spells to help wizards with gardening and the possibility that their might be a large Wizarding industry that used house-elves for heavy labor and providing witches with wizards with many of the vegetation they needed in bulk, it was still something he should look into if he ever returned...

 

Of course, despite the heavy labor they were more than happy to help with – well, Harry was happy for the distraction, and his guards were comparatively resigned – they were still recognized as the resident heroes of the community. That being the case they were often asked to deal with the problems that plagued the Shire throughout their somewhat lengthy stay. This was something that Harry was still more than happy to do, and the Míriel brothers even more so, as it was what they were actually accustom to. So they dealt with every problem the Shire faced in the two centuries they were there, from flooding and drought, to wolves, trolls and orcs.

 

Nevertheless, this was not really enough in Harry’s mind. Wishing to protect the Hobbits peaceful way of life in an Age that he sensed would only progressively darken through the course of time, he began to build wards around the Hobbits’ lands, and eventually placed the entire Shire under modified versions of the “notice-me-not” spells that kept Muggles away from Hogwarts and similar magical enclaves. These spells would protect the Shire from any and all who wished to harm the Hobbits for centuries to come, subtly pushing all but those who were seeking the Halflings’ home with no ill will away, preserving this peculiar paradise for at least many generations to come.

 

Their status as the only non-Halfling size residents of the Shire often meant that the Men who visited the Shire from time to time often became their guests if the Hobbits the ran into first judged them worthy of welcome. Therefore, news of the world of men occasionally reached their ears. When news of waves Easterlings periodically attacking the men of Gondor reached their ears, it drew out Harry’s inner hero once more.

 

So Harry completed the wards protecting the Shire and activated several more powerful wards to protect and completely conceal his home among the Hobbits, even placing it under a modified Fidelius, with himself as its Keeper but leaving the responsibility of managing it to whomever held the title of Mayor of Hobbiton, and thereby giving them the right to occasionally allow large guests of the Shire to rest there, if they could be trusted. It would be one of the Shire’s great secrets, though some of its significance and reality would be forgotten as the power of the spells slowly faded with passing centuries, particularly after one of the Mayors was killed in a tragic accident and was thereby unable to pass the secret of Harry’s House onto his predecessor several hundred years after the strongest spells were set. So Harry’s House became part of a myth from tales told by elder generations to curious younglings of the strange hero that had saved the Shire many times and even deigned to live among them with two Elves as companions and guards for several generations. The same myth was often associated with why the Shire remained totally free of troubles for centuries, but after enough time had passed it was never fully believed by most Hobbits, the exceptions beings the young Hobbits who drew comfort from the tales when the wind howled outside their cozy hobbit holes on dark winter nights.

 

Even so, the knowledge that he had done something to protect his little friends allowed him to leave the Shire to lead Camthalion and Lólindir down far more dangerous paths in 490 TA. Crossing paths with the Dúnedain Rangers from time, and even more mortal soldiers occasionally, the three warriors of the Golden Wood slowly helped Gondor fend off the attacks of the different tribes of men from Rhûn.

 

Harry even allowed them to join forces for a time with the Men of Rohan when they fought to retake the fortress of Isengard from the Corsairs. He was glad to have done so, despite the fact that his bodyguards hadn’t allowed him to use his magic among the men for anything other than disguising them as men. His gratification at their involvement in this cause arose shortly afterward, when the King of Rohan sent an invitation to Saruman the White, offering him the Tower of Orthanc as a place of residence. Saruman was pleased with offer, and even gladder of the help that the King offered in moving in. Help that Harry made sure he was a part of, thereby granting him several opportunities to magically copy the Istari knowledge into his wonderful book of knowledge and in so doing turning it into a well of information on Arda as well as Earth. Although he managed to copy the vast majority of Saruman’s collection of oh-so-informative texts, he did have to leave rather quickly after Saruman’s attention truly turned to the inside of his new home. Not wanting to test himself against one – and supposedly the strongest one – of the Istari of Arda just yet, Harry decided it was time to go when the White Wizard began seeking him out for conversation, undoubtedly noticing that there was something off about him and his ‘brothers,’ Cecil and Lorry.

 

Despite the rather hasty exit they had to make in the dark of night, quickly changing appearance and putting distance between themselves, Isengard and in a day or so’s travel all of Rohan, it was a profitable venture that would keep Harry busy for nearly a century afterward as he studied the Istari arts, slowly establishing and pushing his limits just as he had done with the magic of his own world a few centuries before.

 

However returning to the Shire for such study had seemed unwise, as it was not something they were likely to understand the seriousness and even danger of, so he finally allowed himself to return to the first land that had accepted him in this world. After two-hundred-thirty-eight years away, Harry and the Míriel brothers returned to Lothlórien in the year 491 of the Third Age. His return however served him a rather good shock when he found the worry he’d expended over doing so unfounded, as the fair Ránewen had left for Imladris the year before to become one of the Evenstar’s tutors in etiquette.

 

Harry was not entirely sure how to feel about this occurrence. He was a little too world wise to fully believe that this might be a sign from Fate, but it did feel like it in many ways nonetheless. There were many times in his centuries away when quiet moments of simple solitude had seemed like sheer torture to him. He’d kept himself busy, wandering more and more near the end, trying to find a purpose that might make resisting the pull bearable, but it had always been there: even when he was fighting alongside a king and gaining access to the oldest records of the Istari arts. After all his journeying, his heart had felt rather heavy on the way home, still not sure if he was ready to face Ránewen... so to reach the realm of the Galadhrim only to discover she’d left for Imladris one short year before felt strange in many, many ways...

 

~ * Cerin Amroth, Lothlórien, Winter, 506 TA * ~

 

“Fifteen years have passed since you returned to us from your time abroad to find the lady who holds your heart missing, ion nin,” Celeborn offered quietly as he came up beside his stargazing foster-son lying upon the hill of Cerin Amroth, surrounded countless pale green and white niphredil flowers and many small golden, star-shaped elanor flowers, which bloomed only in the slightly chilled months of winter. “You distract yourself with the Istari arts even as you distracted yourself with the Hobbits and the warring factions of men.”

 

Harry sighed, shaking his head as the wise Lord of the Galadhrim seated himself on the dew covered ground at his side, interrupting his slowly darkening thoughts at the sky darkened and the air chilled in the midwinter night. “I cannot go to her, adar nin.” <father>

 

Celeborn offered a sad smile as he shook his head, his gaze still fastened on the stars that were just beginning to shine down on this enchanted hill long associated with the beauty and sorrow of star-crossed love. “You mean you will not go to her.” He silenced his son with a raised eyebrow as the wizard turned to him ready to protest. “No, Elerossë... the choice is hers, and if this prolonged exile from your side is hurting your lady as much as it obviously hurts you, more and more with each passing day, then you are sentencing her to a far crueler fate than a mortal end that might never come.”

 

Harry frowned shaking his head, “In my world I’m mortal, if she goes with me, she will watch me fade and die of old age if I survive the war that is currently destroying it. If she remains behind, she may yet die of grief if I allow her to bind herself to me. If my denying her hurts her, she may yet seek happiness and eternal life in Valinor, and I can be happy knowing her love shall be ever green...”

 

“Can you?” Celeborn the Wise shook his head, sighing once more at the sadness that hung upon this hill and around his son. “I do not know if I could bring myself to leave my Galadriel on these shores, or if I could long withstand this world without her love.”

 

The thought of his foster-parents separating drew another frown to Harry’s face, and he shook his head forcefully, trying to push the thoughts away even as he sought to draw an answer from his jumbled mind to offer the Elven Lord.

 

“You may not like to hear it from yet another person, ion nin,” Celeborn offered quietly, his eyes once again fixed upon the brightening stars above them, which were only slightly clouded by the puffs of chilled air they fogged up with their warm breath. “But Fate does not like to be ignored. Whether it was directly involved or not, it was part of what brought you here, and while your connection to Galadriel may have been part of what drew you here, I have no doubt that the fact that your other half also walked this world took part in the decision as well.”

 

Silence hung as heavily about them as the sadness of the hill and its younger occupant did for several moments before the wizard offered a sad, weak reply. “She must hate me now...”

 

“Go to her. If she is angry with you, beg for her forgiveness. Do whatever it takes to get her back, to be happy once more,” Celeborn advised, rising gracefully from the ground as he did so and holding out a hand to pull his son to his feet.

 

With another sigh, the wizard accepted the help and grasped his foster-father’s hand, allowing him to pull him to his feet but starting slightly in surprise when the Elven Lord did not immediately let go after doing so.

 

“I know you do not want to recognize it, ion nin,” Celeborn offered quietly as he drew his foster son into his arms and leaned down slightly to murmur his final words directly into the younger being’s ear, “but you made your choice the moment you met her. Your mind has been fighting it, but your heart made its decision two-hundred and fifty-three years ago. Denying that only brings pain to you, your love, and all those who care for both of you...” Drawing back slightly, Celeborn offered a small smile as he could see his words seemed to register at least somewhat in his foster-son’s eyes. After a moment, he released his foster-son, and reached into one of the pockets hidden in the folds of his majestic robes. From it he drew a small, box of mithril. “Nearly four millennia ago, Galadriel wore this ring when we announced our engagement in Alqualondë. My mother wore it before her, commissioned by my father from the forges of Finwë. We would be honored to see it on Ránewen’s hand, even if only for the betrothal period.”

 

With that same small smile never fading or growing, the Lord of Lothlórien gently forced his foster-son’s hand open and placed the small box in it, before gently pressing the younger being’s fingers closed around it. Then, after offering a small, somehow encouraging nod, the Teleri elf turned, quickly making his way away from the young wizard without once looking back.

 

Harry remained alone upon the hill that had once boasted the home of a great Elf King many millennia before his arrival, before any of those who currently walked Middle Earth entered this world. That King’s life had ended with the tragic loss of his love, the fair Nimrodel. After several hours of thought, of weighing all the words of wisdom he’d received on the matter along with the thoughts that had kept him from accepting him, he finally bowed to his fate and looked down at the special box that had been placed so securely in his hand.

 

He closed his eyes for a moment and counted to ten, before opening them again and bringing the box up to his eyes and opening, reverently scrutinizing the ring that lay within. It was a small, fine band of mithril with a strangely shining diamond set between two emeralds. Seeing an engraving in the inside, he turned the box slightly to read it. The writing more than anything else proved the ring’s age: it was gracefully engraved Sarati, the first written alphabet of the Elves, crafted by Rúmil of Tirion in the forty-seventh century of the fourth age. He read the Quenya script aloud quietly, “În Oiale Yala... Our Eternity Awaits...”

 

Harry smiled. Fitting, he supposed, for an Elven betrothal band. After sparing the blameless – yet ever so maddening – ring one more glance, he placidly closed the box and locked its clasp once more before slipping it into the most secure pocket in his robes.

 

With a sigh he then knelt on the hilltop and began to pick a bouquet of the beautiful white and gold flowers that grew only on this symbolic hill. When his bouquet was finished he cast several spells on it, enough to preserve it for many years to come, more than enough for him to make the journey to Imladris with them to offer them as – the first of undoubtedly many to come – heartfelt apologies to his lady.

 

~ * Imladris, Early Spring, 506 TA * ~

 

Harry smiled as his sister’s home came into view. Elrond’s hidden valley was always a welcome sight, especially now that it housed all but two of the people he loved most in this world.

 

He could sense her again. Ránewen was certainly here. He felt her presence on the edge of his mind, familiar and warming, and drawing a small smile to his face despite the fact that it yet remained weaker than he thought he remembered.

 

His foster-father was right. He needed Ránewen. And no matter how angry she may yet be with him, he had to do anything and everything possible to apologize. To win her back.

 

He was done denying it. Though he might wish his childhood friends could be here, or that he had met her in his own world, Ránewen was his match..

 

“Heru Elerossë, mae govannen!”

 

Harry smiled as he drew his horse to a stop in Imladris’s main courtyard, easily jumping down from his mount and offering the fine steed a gentle pat on the neck before turning it over to one of the stable-hands and turning to return the Balrog Slayer’s greeting, “Mae govannen, Glorfindel. It’s been a while.”

 

“Indeed it has, my lord. What brings you to Imladris?”

 

Harry raised an incredulous eyebrow in response. “Do you really need to ask?”

 

Glorfindel smirked, “One should never assume anything, young prince. But may I assume you are here seeking your long-neglected lady?”

 

Harry sighed, nodding his head resignedly. “You may. Might—”

 

“That is good, my lord. But first you must speak with Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrían.”

 

Harry frowned, surprised at being cut off, but figured since he was in fact intruding on his sister and his brother-in-law’s hospitality unannounced – though why his mother couldn’t have let them know was beyond him – he really should greet them before sneaking away to find one of their daughter’s tutors. “Of course, are they breaking their fast?”

 

“They should be.” Glorfindel frowned, “Did you ride through the night?”

 

“Most nights, yes,” Harry confirmed with a shrug. Ignoring the grumbles this acknowledgement brought from his weary escort. “I was in a hurry.”

 

“In the future, my lord—”

 

“It’s not wise, I know.” Harry cut him off, a bit irritated at receiving a lecture from his grumpy old teacher, shaking his head. “But that is why I let my father assign a full-escort to accompany me, of course. With this many guards, I was perfectly safe.”

 

After a moment of glaring Glorfindel sighed, “Perhaps.” He turned, nodding to the entrance to the Hall of Fire. “If you will follow me.”

 

Harry rolled his eyes, but nonetheless followed. ‘Get lost a few times and they never let you forget it!’ He thought with a slight groan, even as he quickly checked to make sure the miniaturized-bouquet he’d picked for Ránewen was still in fine form within the magic-globe he’d created for it and placed on a chain around his neck, before following the golden-haired lord.

 

 

 

 

End of Chapter 1: Manar.

 

Translations:

 

AN #2: Well, there are quite a few more changes here, aren’t there? What’d you think?

   Honestly I’m not sure if I like this chapter yet. Not nearly enough dialogue, but on several of the parts I just couldn’t seem to think of the right dialogue. That’s why Harry’s confused and nervous for most of his wedding. Still some differences in time frames, a few more explanations, etc. At the very least this is certainly much longer than the previous “Chapter 1” of “There and Back Again,” and a lot better written too, I think.

   Oh! I also have a few more explanations for some of the many changes to. Basically all I’m going to say is that this is my story and writers license lets me change whatever I want, but some of the specific changes were as follows:

         1) Istari – “arrived with the dawning of the Third Age,” or shortly after Harry arrived on Middle Earth, instead of around 1000 TA.

         2) I know the Shire technically didn’t exit before 200 TA, but I wanted Harry to visit and live there for a while, thereby becoming parts of the Hobbits history. So this Shire was founded a few millennia early.

         3) Rohan was also founded a few millennia earlier than in the canon. I haven’t really done much research for it, but basically it just means that:

             - Eorl the Young lived a lot earlier in Middle Earth’s history

             - Rohan itself therefore came into existence much earlier in time (any time before Harry’s visit there, as mentioned herein around the year 500 of the Third Age.

             - The Oath of Eorl was given to a King (one of Aragorn’s ancestors), not a Steward, after an earlier war. That same oath will come into effect in 2510 TA, when the Steward of Gondor, Cirion, will need aid from Rohan, just as he did in the canon.

         5) I didn’t research it, but I’m rather sure the Black Gate shouldn’t have existed in 151 TA. I doubt the Orcs should have been able to rebuild it after the Last Alliance tore it down, especially with Gondor still hunting them. But writer’s license is a wonderful thing. :-P

         6) I know that the movies actually reversed what was supposed to be true in the books, in that most elves had dark hair and light was uncommon, but I’ve already set the reverse in my mind and I prefer it, so there you have another exercise of writer’s license!

 

...Well I think I covered everything. If I missed something, please feel free to let me know. But I’d really rather not receive complaints about any of the stuff I just explained, if at all possible. If it really makes you want to flame, go ahead, but honestly I’m not sure why you’re even reading fan fiction if that’s the case.

And way, hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I’d love to hear from you about it, so PLEASE REVIEW! *pouts*

 

 

 

NEXT:

Interlude I: I’Vestale                          (The Wedding)

 

Chapter 2: Friends & Lessons

 

Bye for now! ^_^

~ Jess S