Harry Potter and the Fellowship of the Ring

Chapter 8

Author's Note: Well folks...it's been about a year since I last updated. I apologize for the long wait. Life happens, but a year long is a bit excessive. This chapter is a lot shorter than I'd like it to be to make up for that, but the scene it's based off of is also a bit short. So I will only request that you enjoy this one, and I will do my best to not make you all wait another year. Cheers!

"The Ringbearer is setting out on the quest for Mount Doom, and you who travel with him. No oath nor bond is laid to go further than you will."

As Elrond spoke, Ellerosse took note that Aragorn and Arwen were sharing and intense look of some hidden meaning. He smirked, only half listening to the elven lord as he thought of several ways to torment his friend.

"Farewell. Hold to your purpose and may the blessings of elves, men, and free folk go with you."

They all shared a moment of silence, clinging to their last moments in friendly territory before they set off on their great journey. Harry suddenly had a vision of three eleven year olds--incredibly determined eleven year olds--setting out with a similar feeling of uneasiness as they went on to stop an evil of their own. That battle had never ended until Voldemort had been killed, now that he looked back at it.

He blinked, and the memory was gone. He had fallen subconsciously into step with the rest of the fellowship, awaiting for a brave hobbit to take the lead. Frodo, despite the obvious cue to start, seemed nervous and uncertain about what he was meant to do.

Gandalf cleared his throat. "The Fellowship awaits the ringbearer."

Frodo jumped, as if awakening from a trance of his own. Slowly he turned, drifting through the arches. With his keen hearing, Ellerosse was able to hear the individual footsteps on the ground. Pat, pat, pat.

"Mordor, Gandalf. Is it left or right?" he asked.

Gandalf did not even pause, as if he had known that Frodo would ask that question. Ellerosse bet that his eyes would have had the same damn twinkle he recalled in the eyes of another bearded wizard.

"Left." Gandalf replied, but Harry speculated that the Istar had said more with that one word than what was blatantly obvious.

He recalled the talk with Gandalf earlier, groaning internally as he realized that he had become as much a part of his plans as Frodo was. The situation gave him a sense of foreboding as he was once again reminded of Dumbledore, falling to his death just so that Snape would be able to gain the trust of a Dark Lord.

They all passed under the arches in silence, probably speculating about the future, about the fates of themselves and the lives of their loved ones. Aragorn was the last one to pass under the arch, and Harry suddenly tossed aside any teasing ideas he had formed as he recalled what was to become of Arwen. He didn't say anything, merely put a hand on Aragorn's shoulder once the man had caught up to him. He would make sure that his friend would stay strong. After all, he knew all too well that one cannot run from Fate.

It was Pippin that broke their silence, not that any of them were surprised.

"I'm hungry." The hobbit remarked, patting his belly for emphasis. Merry was quick to agree with the statement.

Harry snickered from his place in the group. "Don't worry Pippin. I made sure to get plenty of snacks from the kitchens, particularly the ones that you seemed to like so much that you kept stealing them from underneath the poor Cook's nose."

Pippin went silent and red faced at his words, but Merry merely laughed.

"You're alright, Griffin." Merry remarked cheerfully. The rest of the Fellowship took this as a cue to start a conversation. They sang songs of great battles and told stories (much to the embarrassment of Ellerosse, Legolas and Aragorn told the rest of the group of the time he had been an elfling). Gimli even was cheerful enough to converse with both Legolas and Ellerosse, despite the fact that they were elves. Spirits were high as Imladris passed out of their sight. There was no going back. And Harry felt the warm pulse of the charm on his neck, telling him that he drew ever closer to his goal.