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Chapter Text

Dyslexia: Language disability, we will continue to die like men, yes, we'z will, my Precious.

Chapter 1 - Speaking with the Moon

She was not ageing.

Alright, she had grown a quarter of an inch taller in the last twenty years, but otherwise…

Luna had always been different, always been odd. She was, after all, Loony Lovegood. But the people she knew were passing on without her, the world seemed to be moving on without her.

Her colleagues –along with random witches on the streets– had begun to hate her for her appearance, for finding 'the magic spell' to look young forever young and refusing to share that knowledge.

But there was nothing to share, and if it was a secret, it was one hidden to her as well.

Her father was many years buried, but in her search for answers to her 'condition', she discovered that she had, indeed, been adopted. Yet she knew not where from or any trace of her origins or genealogy. According to the note attached to her first visit to St. Mungo’s, she had been found in the garden, the flowers her watchful guardians.

It was a trick of some kind that she looked so much like her adoptive parents.

Staring into her reflection, Luna mourned the lack of age lines. But to her own eyes, she was changing, in great leaps and bounds her very core and being were changing. Some fragileness tearing away like cobwebs to reveal something other.

As other to the people around her as she had always felt.

It started with the dreams, dreams of skies that had never known a muggle light, of forests both dark and deep, of trees who spoke, and mist that veiled the crests of mountain tops.

Long had she wished these places that she had never seen, never ventured, for fear that reality would break her imagination. These were the sort of dreams she held close to her heart and never wished to be parted from, even if that meant to nevermore being awoken.

Such wishes marked the beginning of the end of her career. The more fantastical her dreams, the more vivid they painted themselves through her mind, and the more the wind beckoned to her, the less her magic seemed to respond to her commands.

Which was why, on this day, she was going to visit her dearest friend.

Harry didn't know everything, but Harry Potter was the only being on this planet who didn't believe was crazy.

To him, she was just Luna.

To her, he was just Harry.

Luna straightened her suit, her pants were navy but made of a fine material that could withstand the odd swipe of a dragon's claws. Her vest was shimmery powder blue over a white button-down that was cut to be presentable, yet it too could handle the sweat of mucking stalls. Her overcoat was perhaps too warm for the season but would serve her well if it rained. Finishing her ensemble with a blue ribbon and a white jade pin in her wild hair, she deemed herself ready to depart.

Dressing like this, allowed her to pass through all walks of life. The muggles thought her fashionable, unlike when she wore her witch’s robes, and her wizard company thought her presentable enough, all the while, she was ready to shovel dragon dung on a moment's notice.

If she 'scared off suitors' like Hermoine insisted she was, well, Luna didn't much desire anyone anyway.

Weaving her way through the busy streets of London, she began her rather short trek to Harry’s apartment. He lived at Hogwarts the majority of the days but he kept an apartment in Diagon Alley for the summer months.

That Harry was her best friend was public knowledge, their world thought it was out of pity, two war veterans reminiscing, and others thought of things far less flattering.

Ginny and Luna had had a falling out during the youngest Weasley’s divorce from Harry. Not unreasonably, seeing as Luna had unequivocally taken Harry's side. What had hurt was that Ginny accused Harry of adultery and then blamed Luna for seducing him.

Luna was a pariah in most social circles, the Immortal Home Recurer was among the names she hated most.

 That Luna had never so as much kissed another person, nor in fact, never had any desire to, didn't seem to matter in the slightest.

It was the same reason she and Neville were no longer friends, Neville abhorred drama and put his family above all else. Luna didn't blame him for doing everything in his power to preserve that. Neville was probably one of the luckiest ones among their generation on the home front, given the tragedies that dogged their generation.

Hermoine was sort of her friend, though that seemed to extend only to the rare occasions they saw each other. Hermoine  Granger rarely had time for anyone, when she wasn't working, she was reading, and when she wasn't reading, she was rewriting laws.

As Minister of Magic, her work ethic was admirable, after what happened to her family, excluding Harry, it was understandable that she lacked the desire to be pulled away. After all, if she took a breath, she might look backwards at all that she had lost.

So it was that those who could be counted among Luna's friends were Harry, her fauna in her apartment, and the temporary friendship of the dragons she tended on the reservation, the latter being a conditional friendship that relied solely on the timeliness and quality of the meals she delivered to them.

Although, it was her personal opinion that she was less loathed by the dragons than any other.

It was an uncontested fact that animals liked her more than people did. It was a simple fact of her life.

She let herself into Harry’s apartment but knocked when she got to the stoop at the top of the stairs despite having the keys to that door as well.

The sound of a dozen locks turned over as Harry Potter, the Finest Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor Hogwarts, the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, had ever known and Luna Lovegood's very best friend opened the door with an exuberant smile, unabashedly showing off his every wrinkle.

His messy salt and pepper hair looked as windswept as ever and his startling green eyes reflected her own happiness.

"Luna!" he greeted pulling her into a strong hug which she returned, hoping he didn’t notice the slight desperation which caused her to cling a few moments beyond their greeting.

Too often she felt as if she was lost at sea, but he was her lighthouse, calling her back toward the harbour.

She was quietly going mad, watching time taking its toll on him. Even if he still moved with a spring in his step, head unbowed to the world despite the many trials it had put him through, the years had carved its marks on him.

When he left her behind, she feared she would be unmoored and lost in open waters with no light or star to guide her home. She breathed him in, holding on to each memory of him as though it would be their last.

Only with Harry did she feel not alone.

But no moment could or would last forever and she let him go, his every breath wearing heavy on her heart as if each puff of air were tugging him away from her.

"I have a gift for you," Harry enthused, though she did not miss the flash of concern in his gaze. "Come, come, sit, ignore the mess."

Harry was a hurricane, his apartment was an assortment of books and quidditch magazines and an overabundance of clothes.

Of Harry's three children, none of them had ever had a wardrobe or pair of shoes that did not fit them, nor had they ever known what it was like to go to bed on an empty stomach.

Luna was pretty proud to be on the shortlist that Harry would both cook and bake for.

She made herself at home, kicking her boots off into the Potter domain before curling up on her spot on the sofa, the only island that remained free of clutter. 

Harry disappeared into the next room and emerged back again with an adolescent owl on his arm.

Luna's heart skipped and broke from joy as a glory of white and grey feathers was presented to her.

"It's her, Luna. I never put much stock in reincarnation but here she is," he said in an almost hushed tone, sitting beside her as Luna gently reached out to stroke those feathers with reverence.

"Hello, Hedwig, it is good to meet you again," she said in awe to the owl who blinked at her with reproachful amber eyes.

Yet despite Hedwig's pride, she allowed herself to be petted, like a queen accepting worship.

As Harry had been Luna's first friend, Hedwig had been Harry's.

"I am so happy for you, Harry."

Harry grinned, "She's yours."

"What!?' Luna squawked, "No, Harry, I couldn't possibly-"

"Owls live for a very long time, Luna, or at least they are meant to. This girl will outlive me this time. But when I saw her…" he shut his eyes, and Hedwig bit his finger. He let out a startled laugh and looked at the bird with sparkling emerald eyes, before returning his attention back to Luna with an imploring expression. "I couldn't let her go to some stranger. She will be good for you, you worry me living all alone-"

"Harry," she protested, "I am not a chi-"

"No," he cut her off, "You are my dearest friend and I am allowed to worry about you."

Luna bit her lip before inclining her head and holding out her arm. Hedwig gazed between them solemnly, before stepping onto Luna's forearm with a finality that rang through her soul.

The bonding of a familiar.

Luna stroked Hedwig's head and fought back the tears at the acknowledgement of something that she and Harry had long avoided.

The consequences of her lack of ageing.

Harry leaned back against the sofa, his arms extended, and looking younger than she knew him to be. 

He asked with deliberate casualness, "Have you been reading the papers?"

Unphased, she raised her chin, "Of course not."

"Then why do you look so sad?"

"You know why," she retorted, gently scratching the top of Hedwig's head.

"Has your magic still been…"

"I can't use my wand anymore," she informed him. "None of the Latin works anymore, nothing I do–”

She cut herself off, noticing how her tone was causing Hedwig's feathers to flare a bit.

She softened her tone, "All that is left to me is parlour tricks. Fire dances at my fingertips and water follows my hands but otherwise…" she met Harry's gaze, "I'm losing everything."

He stroked her cheek, "No you haven't."

"I can't perform my job anymore," she told him, "I'm little better than a squib-"

"No, you're not," he said kindly but with a thread of certainty that gave his words a steely edge. "I cannot pretend I know what's happening with you, or why these things are happening, but you are changing, my friend, not decaying. Have a little more faith in yourself."

"You're not the one shovelling dragon dung," she muttered.

Fury crossed Harry's expression, "Then you should quit, I can fund your independent-"

She waved that away, "I've already done that, I enjoy working with the dragons."

"But if you're coworkers are-"

"It doesn't matter, Harry. There is something else I've been meaning to tell you…"

His gaze sharpened on her, "More dreams?"

"No, I mean, yes, but there is something else."

She had been wary of telling him. Logically, she knew she had nothing to fear, this was Harry, but she worried all the same.

He raised his brows, "Well, come on then, you can't leave me in suspense. You know what mysteries do to me."

She laughed at that and Hedwig hooted softly.

"Alright, no need to go set fire to London, Mr. Potter." But the momentary happiness faded at what she said next. "It's one of the dragons, it's, that is, I hear it speaking…"

Hearing voices no one else can hear isn't a good sign, even in the wizarding world.

Harry observed her, an odd expression decorating his face as he finally spoke, picking each word with deliberate care. "In my experience, Luna Lovegood, if you hear voices in our world; you ought best to listen to them."

She blinked at him, then laughed, snorting she tried to speak clearly, "I don't know why I thought you would say something else."

He broke into a grin, "Now I'm not saying do whatever it says, dragons are mean-"

"No they aren't," she protested, "It's only because-"

" They can be, then," he amended, "They can harm you. However, I believe you should follow where your heart leads you. If the dragon is speaking, you should probably mind what it has to say."

"It called to me the other day as I was leaving."

"What did it call you?"

"'Child of the Stars,' 'Child of the East Ridge', and 'Graced One of the Valar,'" she answered.

Neither of them knew who or what the Valar was.

"He or she was trying to get your attention."

She nodded, "I know but it gave me chills, it felt like an echo from my dreams."

"It isn't like you to be afraid."

She looked into his eyes, "I feel as if everything is moving too fast, I don't want the world to pass, and looking into that dragon's eyes, I saw…"

She saw her dreams in waking hours.

"What?" he prompted.

"Something I can never come back from, a choice that cannot be unmade."

He smiled, "Take it from a Gryffindor, little bird, don't be afraid to fly. It was what wings are meant to do."

"But what if I never see you again?" she asked, "What if you die and time- Time continues to move on without me?"

He pulled her into another hug then, Hedwig hopping on his shoulder, "Wherever your life takes you, remember me, and I will be with you always."

She clung to him, "You're the only family I have left, Harry."

He pulled back and cupped her face in his hands, they were soft from age, "Luna, listen to me, your magic has not left you. There is nothing and there has never been anything wrong with you. Follow your dreams, don't let anything or anyone hold you back."

She smiled at him, her heart fit to bursting, "Listen to the dragon?"

He laughed, "Yes, Luna dear, listen to the dragon and follow the stars."

oOo

Luna had tried to leave Hedwig in the employee lounge, but the stubborn owl, despite having wretched out a mouse after refusing to believe Luna about the trouble with portkeys, was now refusing to leave your shoulder.

"Fine," she told Hedwig, as she walked over the grounds. “Don't blame me when the dragons want to use your bones as toothpicks."

“ I would rather use yours, Moonchild.”

Luna took in a deep breath before turning toward the Antipodean Opaleye. Even in the dim light before dawn in this part of the world, the dragon's white scales shimmered and its fire opal eyes seemed to stare into her true being.

"Said the white dragon whose scales shone and sparkled in the moonlight like freshly fallen snow," she responded, having learned over the years how intelligent and frightfully vain dragons were.

This dragon was no different as it roared with what she translated to being laughter. 

It pressed as close to the bars of the cage as it could, “ I like you, Child of Stars, how did you become Lost as I? Why did the Valar exile you here? A child you are but your nature shines through the mockery of angel-kin these false-wizards don.”

"Who are the Valar? And I am not an exile, nor am I angel-kin, I am a witch."

The dragon chuckled, “Too young, so young, never one of your kind have I found without shelter. Unheard of, in all the ages, that you should find yourself alone.”

"I am not young nor am I a child. And there are plenty of orphans among my kind."

The dragon rubbed its great white head against the bars like a cat begging for attention. “You are not one of these cruel, brutish humans. Tell me how old you are, so I may know the extent of the wrong heaped upon you.”

"I am eight-nine years old," she told the creature, fervently glad that no one but her ever came to work before dawn.

“Only the humans have you known?”

"What else is there to mistake me as? Yes, I lived with my mother and father, a witch and wizard."

The dragon hissed , “Not wizards, humans with stolen magic. And young you are, almost an adult but a child yet you remain. Free me and I can return you to the Valar.”

The dragon considered eight-nine to be a child? Sure, she still looked like she was seventeen, but regardless, "I don't-"

“Or home to the Eastern Shore,” the dragon coaxed, pleaded. “Child of Stars, I see in your heart what lies in mine, neither treasure nor title could ever abide our beings. We long for that which is so much greater. Smaller and smaller this world grows, no place for us, no home for us. No family we have.”

"I have Harry," she protested.

The dragon dipped its head, “Your mate?”

"No!" she protested. 

Really, even the dragon? 

"He is my friend."

The dragon huffed, and only when she felt the heat from its exhaled breath did she realise her peril.

Yet Luna did not pull back, it was not this dragon's intent to harm her.

“If he is not your other half, then you are free to leave him. If you remain, he will soon die, and you will have nothing more.”

Luna did take a step back then, Hedwig hooting softly at her shoulder.

The dragon's response to this was odd, almost frantic. 

“ Wait. You do not yet understand; you are like me. These others have forgotten how to speak, like the trees your people once taught to sing. I am alone too. I wish to go home, to return to that far north, under snow covered mountains where my kind dwells, free and far from worry or sight of man.”

"There is no such place," Luna informed the dragon sadly, feeling a longing that buckled her courage to face each approaching dawn.

The dragon appeared to perceive her mind because it said, “Yes, Little Lost Star, you have seen it. That place shaped by the Valar, that land of Middle Earth. We are in Exile here, beyond the make of the Valar, but you–you–are blessed. On my wings carry you across the sea, on your light, welcomed home would we both be.”

"Why were you exiled?" Luna asked, hiding a smirk as the posturing dragon flinched.

“Not I, my sire traded me when I was but an egg for the dwarven treasure trove. How I arrived here, I know not by what means I came, but my dreams… Every dragon is hatched knowing the light and dark places of the world, and that world I know, is not the one I find myself trapped in.”

Luna shivered as words were put to the deepest secrets of her heart.

“ I can take you home, to Middle Earth, Child of Stars, of no one, have I ever begged,” the dragon dropped its body to the bottom of the cage lowering its head so they were at eye level. “ Let us return to where we will be welcomed.”

Luna gazed about them, the other dragons stared at her with interest, but what they wanted was food. Gazing into the indescribably beautiful eyes of the pearl dragon before her, she saw a different type of hunger.

One she recognised from her own heart.

Time was running short, an orange glow from behind the silhouette of black mountains was chasing the stars from the sky.

Luna's hand was on the bars of the cage as she thought of these poor dragons, the biggest and deadliest creatures on earth, restrained to the tightest contaminants as the world overpopulated with men and beat back the wild places of the world.

"What do you think, Hedwig?" Luna asked hers and Harry's shared familiar.

Hedwig hooted sagely, so Luna spoke the magic words that the locks responded to regardless of a person's personal magic.

A lock was designed to keep only the animal inside from escaping as the captive was not supposed to be able to have words.

And yet…

The dragon had spoken to Luna.

oOo

AN: Thoughts, feedback, requests, ideas, or owls and dragons?

Chapter Text

Chapter 2 - On the Wings of Dragons

Luna didn't know what to do as the dragon stepped from its cage, and stretched its mighty wings, letting out a champion's roar.

In the process, setting off every single ward on the reservation.

The dragon lowered its great head offering its neck to her. The sound of wizards apparating in had her scrambling onto the dragon's neck above the joints over its shoulders.

Her fate was sealed, the penalty for purposely releasing a man-eating dragon was a life sentence in Azkaban.

Luna couldn't survive that, she would rather die than face another dementor. Without her magic abandoning her, she couldn't even call a patronus.

Not that it mattered, her wand was in her apartment.

She hoped Harry would take care of her plants.

"Fly," she urged her ally. " Fly!"

The dragon let out another roar and beat its wings. The wind created from the movement knocked the assembling dragon tamers clean off their feet.

Faster than Luna could believe possible they were airborne, and then?

She had flown on thestrals and hippogryphs before, on winged horses and even lesser dragonkin, but this was…

This was elemental. They weren't just flying, they were the clouds and the wind, they were a power made into storm. Muscle and wing cutting through and gliding along currents that were as vast as the ocean’s.

Luna tucked Hedwig in her coat, the owl letting out an indignant series of hoots at the wind that was whipping Luna's hair out from its braided confines.

Luna didn't look back for an instant, she could not believe there existed a force in this world that could stop them now.

They flew East, soared toward the mountains, racing the sun to its crests. The dragon beat her wings as if Death itself were chasing. When the sun broke the horizon, they were engulfed in light.

Light that had shaped the shadows, Light that had sung the coming and falling of the dawn and the dusk, that upheld the Earth and its moon, who tossed stars into the night.

Luna met her gods and their angels.

She met the Makers and she saw in the way of dreams half-remembered yet never fully forgotten, a reason for her exile, in a land where magic had grown as corrupted as the hearts of men.

Greed and fear, the unmaking of the world.

A woman of light embraced her, weeping for forgiveness and singing a name, Linaewen.

It tore Luna apart, even as she knew all she had to do was give into the light and she could live here in bliss and never know pain or hurt or loss again.

But she was not ready for her journey to end, not here, not for light or a love that had cast her aside.

Luna would rather die in darkness in pursuit of a real life to be lived as it should have been. She wanted to fight for it, now that she knew there was some belonging for her beyond her dreams. She could not subside into this peaceful place that was beginning and end irrelevant to her actions.

She wanted to live. She wanted to see what world existed beyond the Valar and her Exile.

The female, her birth mother, kissed Luna's cheek and spoke a blessing in a language that Luna could not translate yet felt like magic in her bones. 

The dragon who had brought her here exclaimed with a cry that was the height of joy and inexplicable sorrow as they broke from the Light, falling forward into the sea.

oOo

Harry was smiling as he sat in his window seat looking down at the cobblestoned streat of Wizarding-London, sipping tea surrounded by a forest of his newly acquired houseplants.

"Quit smiling!" Hermione yelled at him. Her long brown hair had turned completely silver, but now she allowed it to halo freely around her face. Her brown eyes were as fierce as ever.

"Luna is fine," he assured her.

"She stole a dragon!" Hermione exclaimed. "She is most assuredly not fine!"

"The dragon isn't going to eat her, if that's what you are so worried about."

"You can't know that, Harry," Hermione chided.

"Oh, but I do, she's gone on an adventure."

"Harry when they find her, she will be thrown in prison and I don't know what I could do to stop that from happening," Hermione said, pleading for him to show concern that he did not feel.

"They won't find her, Hermione, she is beyond our reach now."

"If you knew she was going to do this," she began. "Why didn't you go with her?"

Harry looked back to the streets, at the people moving to and through, and he sipped his tea.

"Because I found my home, and I've had my adventures. I am content."

Hermione frowned, "Really?"

She gestured to the apartment around them that housed only him and the newly adopted plants.

"Is this everything you thought your life would be? Does this make you happy? Really? This is it?"

Harry smiled at her sadly, "Life is rarely everything we expect it to be, and perhaps it is better for it. But yes, I am happy. I have a family, children and grandchildren and even a great-grandbaby on the way. My family smiles when I walk through the door. They count on me to be there for birthdays and holidays. 

“I have students who struggle like we did and I can help them. I have coworkers who need reminding that they were once children too. I have my place and my people. It is a good life, Hermione, and I would change nothing about it."

Tears spilled down Hermione's cheeks. "But you loved her."

Harry took another sip of his tea, fearing it would go cold before this conversation was over. "I love Luna more than my ex-wife, this is true. But she was never my lover, Mione, nor have I ever wanted her to be."

Hermione had taken Ginny's side in the divorce, it had put a wedge between them in a way that Harry would never have believed possible.

"And yet you are content with your best friend– who you love –leaving you behind? Forever?"

Harry met Hermione's gaze.

He saw anger there.

Rage even.

It had been eating away at her since the end of the war, that anger. It was only her iron will and sense of morality that didn't push her over the edge into something vengeful and spiteful.

Yet over the long years, the bitterness had chewed away the friendship between them.

So he knew the words he spoke next would hit old wounds, burst apart healing scars.

But unspoken, they would only continue to fester.

"I would rather Luna find happiness without me, than keep her from living for fear of saying goodbye."

Hermione wiped the tears from her face and cursed him, "You bastard."

She turned on her heel and slammed the door behind her so hard the frames on the wall shook.

Harry finished his tea before leaning back and summoning a book to his hands. A book about mad old wizards and the little folk whose goodness outlasted all the evil in the world. He set to reading, enjoying the world passing by beneath from the comfortable vantage point of his window seat, surrounded by the plants that sang a quiet song Luna’s love had taught them.

oOo

When the dragon rose back from the sea, Luna was freezing. The journey to the Eastern shore was not half so pleasant as leaving Exile.

Hedwig nuzzled close, trying to find warmth in her coat. Luna was soaked through, making the wind that blew through her that much colder.

The stars glittered above the waves and Luna set her jaw against the frigid temperatures.

This was her choice now, truly her choice. She could have stayed with the Valar, with her mother who still breathed and lived.

But her mother was not the woman who had raised her. She was not Pandora Lovegood whose death had reshaped Luna's world.

The mother she had met in the Light, was hers, but she was permanent, and would always be waiting. Luna wanted to live first, wanted to see her homeworld even if it meant living in ignorance about her mother's origins or name or the reasons her own mother had for exiling her.

Luna knew only that it had not been done out of malice, and therefore, Luna knew it was an offence she could forgive.

She dwelled on these thoughts to distract her mind from remarking on how very, very, cold she was.

Hedwig might have been in trouble, but as her familiar, Hedwig shared Luna's life, and somehow, Luna knew in this world, no natural cause would take Hedwig from her.

Even if she felt so cold that hugging the dragon's neck felt like cuddling a glacier.

"What's your name?" Luna shouted into the wind.

“I have none, for you are the first I have ever spoken with that such a thing might be necessary.”

"What would you like your name to be?" she asked, the sun setting behind them, the surface of the blue waters turning shades of pink, red, and orange as they raced between the great sky and the great sea.

“That was your mother who stopped us, was it not?”

"Yes, but she was a stranger to me."

“The humans called you Luna, this is not what you were named.”

Linaewen.

Linaewen, that was the name her mother had used, but it didn't feel as if it belonged to her, she was still too much a Lovegood to accept it. Pandora had named her Luna.

"Yet Luna Lovegood is my name," she answered.

The dragon huffed before asking, “What does it mean, 'Luna'?”

"Moon," she replied. “My name means moon."

The dragon bobbed its head, causing them to make a wave in their flight pattern. “Then that shall be the meaning of my name also; I am Ithilwen.”

"That is a beautiful name," she said as the stars awoke above them in a sky velvety shade of darkest blue.

Ithilwen laughed in that way of hers that was more roar than chuckle. “See the beauty? See the grace that occupies these lands? We are free here. Free to fly, free to roam.”

Luna curled her arm evermore securely around Hedwig. "You seem to know more about me than I do."

“You must go East to find your living kin, this much I know. Follow the East Road, and you will find your kin.”

"How will I know them?"

“You are not human, Child Blessed by the Valar. The changes you find in yourself will answer all questions.”

"I doubt that," Luna disagreed with a smile. She was not angry, answers, true answers at least were cheap things. But understanding the truth? Well, that was another matter entirely. 

"You said there are wizards in this world. Are they only men?"

“No, not men, angel-kin, lesser angels sent by the Valar to Middle Earth. Claim yourself to be one you could, claim to be human you might, but never claim, Child of the Moon, to be a witch. Female or male, it makes no difference, but witchcraft is evil. It means to twist what is natural.”

Luna nodded and then her hopes soared as the land grew ever closer. But the dragon dove upwards into the clouds and again, Luna found herself once more soaked.

Hedwig let out a mournful hoot.

"What are you doing?" Luna asked.

But the dragon did not answer as they flew with only the sound of Ithilwen's wings and the gossip of the winds in speech around them.

An hour or so later, Ithilwen dived straight down and Hedwig let out a screech. However, Ithilwen's great mass landed on the ground as gently as a feather.

Luna fell off more than got off as she had been riding for over a day.

She was so cold.

Ithilwen turned its massive head and exhaled a breath through her nostrils, that worked as a hair drier.

Hedwig found her perch on Luna's shoulder and glared at them both with reproachful amber eyes.

Ithilwen twisted her head and Luna found herself staring into the single opaline eye as the dragon spoke.

“I have brought you to the Shire. No trouble could you find here, and you can trust the halflings. Not man or warrior are they.”

"Halfings?" Luna repeated.

“They are not men, they are what men could have been. Stay with the halflings,” Ithilwen warned.

Luna nodded and looked around the wood they were concealed in, it wasn't overly dense and reminded her not at all of the Forbidden Forest where she had spent most of her school days.

The dragon huffed, “I see adventure in your eyes, Child of the Woodland Stars, if birthright you wish to find then East you must go. But the Shire is safe, here you could live a good and happy life.”

"Are the halflings like me, or do they age?"

“Yes, they age but murder and war are not among them. If you wish to be among your kin then you must accept who and what you are. Only then will the Valar's glamour fall away.”

"Glamour? What do you mean?"

“In exile, you had magic like the other humans, but when you failed to age as they do, you saw yourself apart so your true nature began to reveal itself.”

"And what is my true nature?" she asked again even though she knew better.

“That is for you to discover. My words will mean nothing to you until you learn your place in this world. Good luck, Moonchild, may the winds remain beneath your wings.”

Hedwig hooted and Luna leaned forward to the hug side of the dragon's face, "Thank you, Ithilwen, for everything."

The dragon laughed, pulling back, “Fair winds, fair winds, moonchild.”

Luna watched the Ithilwen spring upward climbing into the clouds and in moments, her friend was gone.

Luna shut her eyes, and listened to this new world, this Middle Earth she found herself in.

The night was warm, the breeze gentle, and she smelled the distant scent of food cooking.

Finding her way out of this wood was a simple matter.

And when she emerged she found rolling hills blanketed by thick grass and moonlight from a half-moon.

The darkness in this place was soft and she found her footing easily across the well worn paths. Warm light spilled from little windows peeking from holes as if the homes had been folded under blankets of earth and greener things. Never had she seen a land so friendly and welcoming. She could not wait to see it beneath the sun.

She searched these quiet places with rich smells spilling from chimnies but could find nowhere that was not residential or anyone outside who was out enjoying the night.

Until she came across one dark figure approaching a rounded door.

She broke into a run, "Sir! Excuse me, Sir!"

She almost didn't stop in time as the stout man with long hair. He pulled a wicked blade that he pointed to her neck.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

She blinked at him, "Luna Lovegood. Who are you?"

"I am Thorin Oakenshield King Under the Mountain. What is your purpose at this doorstep?" he asked with a narrowed gaze.

She arched a brow at him, "A king? A king of what, bad tempers?"

He scowled at her, "I am a dwarf, as you can clearly see. Tell me your purpose."

Dwarves? Though looking at him, she could see that his build wasn’t quite right for a human.

"My purpose is to find a place-" the door opened behind the dwarf revealing a shabbier grayer version of Dumbledore and a small man with pointed ears. 

She continued speaking to the dwarf, “Where I might stay the night and you are the only one I have seen outside their homes this night. I do not wish to disturb anyone readying for bed."

The dwarf stared at her, weighed her against her words but it was the small man with pointy ears who asserted himself.

"Now, I don't know who you think you are, but you cannot, may not, threaten guests at my door."

The dwarf looked down at the smaller male, and frowned.

Luna realised the pointy eared fellow had bare, rather hairy feet.

She liked him instantly and liked him more when he glared up at the dwarf before turning to look up at her.

"The nearest inn is quite far from here. You won't make it to Bree before sun up, not unless you have a very fine horse."

She shook her head, "I have nothing."

The dwarf turned that scowled at her, though she noted this king had very vivid blue eyes that reminded her of Harry somehow, "You cannot have nothing, how have you come to be here?"

Luna held out her arms, "I have nothing, I came here from the West and I am told that I have kin in the East. That is where I mean to go."

"You came from the West?" the grey man asked. "How far West? From the Gulf of Lune?"

She shook her head, "From across the sea, though I would ask that you not ask for a description, I do not have the words for the things I've seen."

The wizards blue eyes had gone very wide and he muttered in a language she did not know.

"Well, come in, come in," the barefoot man said. "You look as if you could use a chair by the fire. I am Bilbo Baggins, at your service, and you are in the Shire, where we hobbits dwell."

She smiled, stepping into the warm inviting space of the wooden room. It was far nicer than she expected a hole in the ground might ever be. 

"I am Luna Lovegood, and I thank you for your kindness. Are hobbits the same as halflings?"

Bilbo smiled at her, "That we are. Though hobbit is preferable, as we are half nothing.”

When she stepped a bit further toward the fire she froze as she saw twelve more dwarves staring at her. 

She waved to them, "Hello."

Hedwig flew off her shoulder to take up a perch on the chair by the fire. She shook out her fledgling feathers and, for lack of a better description, puffed out and settled in for a dignified pout.

The grey man cleared his throat, "My dear, this is Fili, Kili, Dwalin, Balin, Oin, Gloin, Dori, Nori, Ori, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, and I am Gandalf the Grey, at your service."

"At your service, Lass," the others chorused.

Luna curtsied as it seemed the thing to do then replied, "I am Luna Lovegood, and that is Hedwig, my snowy owl."

"And Bilbo, this is Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, Son of Thror, leader of the company. Thorin, this is Bilbo Baggins, our burglar."

Luna raised her brows at the hobbit, "You're a burglar?"

The hobbit flushed, "I most certainly am not! I have never stolen a thing in my life."

" Gandalf, " Thorin intoned.

"Where are the others?" one of the other dwarves asked their King.

Bilbo directed Luna toward the chair by the fire.

She began to pull her hair over a shoulder, running her hand, pulling out the braids, the jade pin Harry gave her having survived the journey somehow. It would probably need a brush in order to bring it into something more presentable. Strangely, as she aged her hair became easier to manage.

It was quite remarkable actually that she was able to run her fingers through it at all after the salt water, wind, and clouds they had flown through.

"They would not come," Thorin answered.

Hedwig bit her ear and Luna bit back a yelp as she turned her focus to the owl only half listening to the dwarves conversing with Bilbo and Gandalf the Grey.

One of the dwarves was saying, "Aye, the wild is no place for gentlefolk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves."

Which is when the room turned dark and Gandolf the Grey did the thing Harry did when he got really angry.

Gandalf seemed to fill up the room, his voice full of power as he said, "Enough! If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is."

"You're a wizard!" Luna exclaimed happily.

Which seemed to ruin the moment as everyone turned on her where she had been otherwise forgotten.

She flushed, "Sorry."

Gandalf smiled, "It is quite alright, my dear, I am indeed a wizard."

She decided to not claim to be one herself, let them think what they would about her. Ithilwen hadn't seemed to think she was human or a wizard/witch. 

"So, if I am to understand, you are all going on a quest to win your mountain back from a dragon?" she asked.

"No," the dwarf, whose name she thought might be Balin, said. “We need to find a way into the mountain and regain enough of our wealth to rebuild our kingdom elsewhere. The dwarves are scattered throughout Middle Earth finding odd jobs, there are few places that remain that we can claim as our own."

"What kind of dragon is it?" she asked.

They all stared at her, and finally, one of the younger dwarves said, "It's… a dragon."

She gave the blonde dwarf with as short a beard as Thorin an exasperated look. "How many legs does it have? If it's in a mountain I'll assume it isn't a water dragon. What colour is it? How big is it? What does it eat? How active is it?"

Thorin looked at her in disbelief. "You… what does it matter what kind of dragon it is?"

She met his gaze directly, "Because some dragons can be appeased by goats or sheep, which would make sneaking in rather easy. Other species of dragon can spew fire for meters at length."

Thorin shook his head, "Then it is one of the latter, slaughtered my people, it set fire to the human city, it–"

He stopped as her hand to her mouth to restrain a gasp.

"Why does that surprise you, girl?" he demanded.

She shook her head, "Because it means it is sick. Some dragons will eat people, especially in their territory. They are known to kill anything that crosses their threshold, but– but what you are describing shouldn't be. Dragons hate people, they want nothing to do with us. They hardly enjoy each other's company. I can think of nothing that would prompt it to leave its home to take another occupied settlement, not unless you were living somewhere that dragons migrate to find a mate."

The dwarves stared at her in absolute silence.

Gandalf was staring at her as if he was trying to read the inside of her brain.

It was Bilbo who asked, "How come you know so much about dragons?"

She smiled at him, "I was living in Exile in the West, there are many humans there, too many. Dragons were being hunted to extinction."

"With good cause!" one of the dwarves exclaimed.

She glared at him, "I worked on a dragon reservation, I was helping to raise them, and allow their numbers to rejuvenate."

" Why –" Thorin demanded, "–would you ever wish there to be more dragons?"

Luna looked at him, "Because it was once their world before it was ours. Besides, I doubt you've ever met a hatchling. Even the most fearsome of dragons craves comfort and community as a hatchling."

It was the thing that made losing her magic so horrid, without being able to perform a basic shield charm, she hadn't been allowed to work with the mothers and their hatchlings.

"Smaug has dragon-sickness," Gandalf said.

Luna froze, and asked numbly, "A sickness of gold craving?"

"Yes," Gandalf asked. "Would you know how to cure it?"

She hugged herself, "I know of only one dragon that succumbed to that, and itss fate… I would rather you kill this Smaug than do what was done to the one I know."

"What was done to it?" the dark-haired dwarf who looked like a younger Thorin said.

"Its eyes were blinded," Luna answered. "And it was chained to the place it had fallen sick in, then over the centuries it was tortured by an unknown many and starved."

A hush fell over the room, "When it was set free, by my friend, it flew straight up and then as far from people as it could get. It has been so long starved, so long accustomed to eating dead meat, that it hardly eats anymore, it is broken, docile. Its days are spent by a stream fed lake, sipping water."

She looked up into Thorin's eyes, "That is the cruellest thing you can do to any living creature, you know, to deny it water. I am not sure how it survived. It was not a species that bromates. I was told that it was a better fate than the dragon sickness, but death would have been kinder. It lives only a half-life now."

Again, silence followed her proclamation.

"What would you suggest we do?" Gandalf asked.

She looked at him, "If it bromates, hibernate for reptiles, don't wake it, eventually it will be found by its own kin and slain for its-" she waffled her hand. "Dragons crave gold and riches because they themselves are jewels. Their scales… It's like a confused mating signal; to crave earthly wealth over a fellow dragon is perverse. It is the only instance where dragons of a single species will gang up on their own."

"Your suggestion is to find more dragons to kill the other dragon?" Thorin asked.

Luna laughed, "No, if you seek out a wild dragon it will kill you, no matter your purpose. But eventually, your Smaug will be slain by its own kind if he truly has dragon sickness."

"That doesn't help us at all," the blonde dwarf said.

She shrugged, "I'm sorry, I don't know what else to tell you. Dragon sickness, as you call it, is quite rare."

"Do you know how to kill a dragon?" a dwarf named Balin asked. “How did your people manage to catch them to begin with?”

She shuttered but nodded. "I know many ways of killing dragons, but depending on the kind it is… I would have to know what kind it is, and regardless, you would need a great deal of magic or special steel to do it."

Everyone looked at Gandalf, who smiled with a twinkle in his eye. "I propose, Miss Lovegood come with us. A burglar and a dragon expert, I can think of no finer additions."

"We cannot take a Daughter of Man with us," Thorin said.

Bilbo crossed his arms, "If she cannot come then neither will I."

Luna smiled at the hobbit, wondering if he considered her a friend so soon. Ithilwen said she could trust the halflings.

So she would, despite the fact that she had mistrusted almost all others for most of her life.

Thorin gestured with his hand and Balin handed him a piece of the paper, and handed it to Bilbo. "Consider the contract first."

Bilbo began to read out loud, "Terms: Cash on delivery, up to but not exceeding one-fourteenth of total profit, if any. Seems fair. Eh, Present company shall not be liable for injuries inflicted by or sustained as a consequence thereof including but not limited to lacerations ... evisceration … incineration?"

"All pretty standard," Luna assured him. "I had to sign one of these too when I started my job."

"But incineration?" Bilbo asked, looking awfully pale.

A dwarf with a fun hat said, "Oh, aye, he'll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye. Think furnace with wings."

Bilbo bent forward a bit, "Air, I-I-I need air."

"Flash of light, searing pain, then Poof! you're nothing more than a pile of ash," the dwarf continued to tease.

As Bilbo tried to compose himself, she put a hand to his back as he said, "Hmmm. Nope."

Luna caught Bilbo before he hit the floor, she knelt with him on the floor and glared up at the dwarf. "Ha ha, very funny. You didn't have to be so cruel to him."

Abashed, the dwarf took off his hat, "Aye, sorry Lassie, couldn't help myself."

She rolled her eyes and brushed back Bilbo's hair, his forehead damp with sweat. "What do you think he can do for you that you can't do for yourselves?"

"Hobbits are quite light on their feet and invisible when they wish to be," Gandalf said. "And they, unlike the other races, are so rarely moved by greed. I trust him not to lose sight of what is truly important, and that above all else, is what this company needs."

She looked up at him, "Where is the Lonely Mountain? I heard you speaking… it's in the East, correct?"

He nodded, "It is."

"I was told that my people are from the East. I was not lying when I said I have nothing. No friends or means to care for myself. If you grant me passage with you to the East, I will help you how I can in getting by the dragon."

"You don't want a portion of the reward?" Thorin asked.

"No," she said. "I didn't come to Middle Earth for riches, I came here to find where I belong."

Thorin's expression softened a tad, "Aye, lass, that is what matters in the end, and I don't suppose it could hurt having a dragon expert on our side."

Luna smiled, wondering if Ithilwen could have imagined the trouble she had managed to discover in the Shire.

Perhaps, after all these years, Harry's luck had rubbed off on her.

oOo

Gandalf watched Luna Lovegood closely that night.

He watched the emotions on her face as the dwarves sang of their lost home and fallen kin. He watched the way she and Bilbo seemed to immediately find comfort in one another.

Miss Lovegood was a gentle soul, so by the life of him, Gandalf could not think of such a one who came to live in Exile beyond the West. There were so few tales of that place that Gandalf did not know how to judge.

He could only wonder at such a fate having been known as a punishment. He knew not how such a fair child–a young girl not even in her twenties–could have come to deserve such a fate.

That she had spent her young life tending to dragons in a land overpopulated with humans was just another layer of mystery.

But one he could live with, Gandalf the Grey had too much to do in Middle East before he could wish to turn his thoughts West, across the sea.

oOo

AN: Reviews, please, or hatchlings? I would very much appreciate any feedback you could give about this story moving forward :)

Chapter Text

AN: Yo, I'm just going to say writing 72 years into the future of Harry Potter is a pain in the ass. You get one year of it, but damn, so much plotting that isn't even going to make it on screen. This is why I tend to time travel backwards.

Chapter 3 - Bloodlines

Harry was one of the first to arrive, mostly because of the things he had to transport with him more than any great desire to spend more time with the Weasleys. James and Rose had messaged him that they would be late.

"I'm always surprised when you lot show up," Harry remarked as he approached the in-laws on the edge of the circles in the Weasley’s backyard.

Harry already had a drink in hand. He had no intention of getting drunk, but this would be the first family reunion he would attend alone with neither his best friend nor his lover on his arm.

"Don't want us here, Potter?" Blaise Zabini asked.

"On the contrary," Harry said. "I count on it. You spread out the hostility from the in-laws and reflect it away from the kids. I swear the grandchildren think we are only grumpy about parties rather than the people at them."

Theo snorted, "You mean they don't understand that we have all tried to kill each other at one point or another?"

"Nah, I've only ever tried to murder Malfoy and your fathers."

"More's the pity you succeeded in neither," Blaise drily.

Theo let out a short laugh, "Oh Merlin, not that I actually want them here, but just to see Arthur's face if Draco walked through the door."

"I think Ginny slept with him to try and get back at me," Harry shared.

Theo raised a brow, "Did that hurt?"

Harry smiled, "Not really, I haven't cared about that mosswipe since seventh year. But when I told Ron… oh, Gin wasn't so pleased with herself then."

Blaise shook his head, "Merlin, I wish you had been sorted into Slytherin. We could have had such fun."

"I feel like I would have been murdered in my sleep," Harry said lightly. "But seeing Snape having to be nice to me might have been worth it."

Theo grinned, "No, seeing Dumbledore's face would have been worth it."

Harry laughed, "Ah, I don't want to know what the old coot would have done to sidestep that one."

"What are you snakes laughing about?" George called as he came over, Bill and Charlie following at his heels.

For men approaching their hundreds, Harry had to admit they had all aged well.

Considering the majority of their generation was dead by war, murder, or suicide, merely surviving was most impressive indeed.

As far as Harry knew, Astoria Greengrass Malfoy was the only one out of hundreds to die from natural causes.

Although, their graceful ageing might be related to the fact that none of them were drinkers, until it came to days like this.

"The despair of Britain," Blaise answered. "What else?"

"So," Charlie rolled his eyes but looked at Harry. "We hear your Lovegood has run off with a dragon?"

Harry sighed and took a sip of his whiskey, before saying, "Aye, the dragon started talking to her, I told her to follow the voices, and she found passage into another dimension."

The five other men paused and stared at him as if he had lost his mind.

As if he hadn’t lost that decades ago.

Harry burped a bit of flame.

Theo spoke first, "I take it back, you don't belong in Slytherin, you belong in an asylum. By the gods, Potter, doesn't anything surprise you anymore?"

Harry pointed at him, "You, my friend, are not a Professor at Hogwarts. What I would like to know is what the hell happened with this current generation? Our children were angels, each and every one of them, complete darling angels. The grandkids?" He shook his head, "Riddle couldn't get me but they might. I swear, if I have to re-spell the roof of the castle with more repelling wards, I'm going to tie them all together for a day and put them on top of the north tower."

Bill cocked his head to the side, "The roof?"

"You know how we all snuck around the corridors at night?"

"Yeah?" Bill asked warily.

"The children have taken to climbing out the windows, and either flying or using magicked ropes, or sticky charms to scale the outside walls or roofs."

Another silence.

George scowled, "Damn, how did we never think of that?"

"I don't know," Harry said, "But patrolling is a nightmare."

Theo was quiet for a long moment before asking, "The girl's dormitories?"

"We have spelled both boys’ and girls’ doors and the windows," Harry said before grinning, "Susan is an evil Headmistress. If the girls try going to the boys’ dormitories, they break out in zits."

Bill laughed, "Oh come on, they can't be-" He stopped at the look in Harry's eyes.

"What?"

"Let's just say that sex ed is a mandatory class now, for all age groups, and we've put up a great deal more portraits throughout the castle," Harry said.

"Now the real question," Blaise said. "Is this generation so much worse or is the new generation of professors simply not doing their jobs?"

Harry opened his mouth, then closed it. He had wanted to defend them, but then he realised how much Hogwarts had changed. Partly because the French school had been forced to merge with theirs and partly because the staff was far larger and the regulations far more substantial.

"The parents are more involved," Harry said, "And Susan has been pushing criminal investigation on any family whose kids show any sign of abuse. This generation is safer than any generation before them and whether a student is good at magic or hard-working does not matter, they know the dangers of our world, of magic."

"It made our kids fearful," George said. "Wary and mistrustful, but for the grandkids? I have never known a generation with such few superstitions. They know where the hardlines are and feel free to play within anything below it."

Theo said in earnest, "I am so glad I didn't become a teacher." Then took a swig of his beer.

George touched Harry's arm lightly, and Harry turned, surprised such a serious face from George directed at him.

"Before my sister says anything, I am sorry for your loss, Andromeda Tonks was a remarkable woman. You will always be one of our brothers, no matter how our lives unfolded."

Harry blinked back tears, rapidly.

The last time he had seen them all together had been at the funeral.

Luna had taken charge of that event and sat all the Weasleys in the back and refused to let them come up to speak with Harry, no matter how well meaning they were.

There wasn't anyone who would try to tell Harry that his ex-wife wasn't relieved, perhaps happy even, that Andromeda had passed on in her sleep, in their bed.

Luna and Rose had picked out his apartment in London, and Teddy and Megan had moved his and Andromeda's belongings between the apartment and Teddy's own home.

"Thanks, George," Harry said tightly.

"Andromeda Tonks was a great woman," Theo said. "And a hell of a catch."

Bill shook his head, "I still don't know why you didn't marry her."

Before Harry could answer that seriously, Blaise said, "I can't believe you didn't fuck her sister. Mrs. Malfoy adores you."

Harry smirked, "Who says I haven't?"

Theo chortled, "Only you would be crazy enough to cheat on Black sister with another Black sister."

"It's not cheating if both were involved," Harry teased.

Theo's grin fell, his dark eyes searching Harry’s expression. "No, no way. They hated each other, and you wouldn't honestly sleep with Draco's mother. He would have killed you."

Harry shook his head, "Correction, Narcissa and Andromeda hated each other's husbands, they never stopped loving one another. And do you honestly believe Draco could ever best me? Much less dictate Narcissa’s actions?"

George was falling apart in silent laughter as Charlie and Blaise stared at him in dumbfounded horror.

Theo blustered, "No, there's no way you actually…"

"Narcissa has very soft hands," Harry responded, neither confirming nor denying anything.

Bill laughed, "Oh, Harry, when you first entered our lives, you were my parents' wildest dream come true."

Charlie snorted, "Now you're the definition of their worst nightmare."

"I don't see why you three took Harry's side in the divorce," Blaise said bluntly.

Charlie smiled sadly, "We didn't take sides. We lost Fred in the war, Ron was assassinated, Percy followed his wife out, and we saw no reason to lose another brother just because our sister was young and became a manipulative brat to the man she claimed to love."

"Plus," Bill added motioning to the circle of matriarchs gathered together and likely trying to slay one another with small tal. "My wife had a second falling out with my sister, there are some things you can't recover from."

"And besides," George said. "It isn't about them or us really, the more of us that gets along the happier our children are. Trying to cast out the guy who sees them more regularly than we do is foolish."

Teddy apparated in then, his wife Sonya Shacklebolt, having arrived early because she had to leave early for a shift at the office. Teddy had taken her name, both because Sonya was proud and hadn't wanted to change and because, as Teddy had confided, he had been more Harry's son than he cared for what might have been with his own father.

Teddy Tonks Shacklebolt approached them, smiling, Hufflepuff that he was, he was usually smiling, "Hey, Uncles."

"Hey, kid, hear you're about to make this one a great-grandfather," George greeted.

Teddy's smile widened, "Aye, Magnolia and Judah are going to take the semester off."

"Susan hired the French Professors as replacements," Harry informed them, hugging his son around the shoulder.

Teddy hugged him back, "Hey, Dad, how are you?"

"I'll be alright, how are you?"

Teddy smiled, "I'm good. Did Aunt Luna really steal that dragon?"

"Apparently," Theo made to inform him. "It's a talking dragon that has taken her to an alternate dimension."

Teddy grinned, "That sounds about right. Maybe she'll find out why she stopped ageing."

Teddy was assuredly a Potter at heart. It was one reason he had taken his wife's name, well that, and Sonya Shacklebolt was very in control of her own personhood and did not tolerate some of the old laws well.

"My wife still wants to strangle her for that," Charlie said.

Fleur, who had begun to glide over to them when she spotted Teddy, said supremely, "I do not. Age is a gift."

Bill kissed her cheek, "Aye, but that's because you became more beautiful."

Which was and wasn't true. After passing the age in which she could bear children, Fleur's Veela allure was nearly completely diminished, she was still more graceful and elegant for a human. Yet even she had proven herself mortal.

However, for all who loved her, the removed veil of magic made her more beautiful. Or maybe, Harry just loved his sister-in-law enough that even if she was the most hideous being on the planet, he would still find her lovely.

Fleur turned that smile on him and stepped forward for a hug and to kiss his cheeks, which he returned.

Hermione wasn't far behind Fleur’s arrival. Despite how they had parted last, she still hugged him.

Harry kissed her temple before whispering, "We are going to be okay, Mione."

She nodded as she stepped back.

Things hadn't been the same since Ron had been murdered. Every funeral was just another reminder of everyone they lost and everyone they stood to lose if they slipped up again.

Before any more conversation could start, everyone was called to sit at the table.

James and his wife, Eliza Nott Potter, Rose and her husband, Dharmik Greengrass Zabini, along with Harry's grandchildren, two Potters and three Zabinis, arrived with a loud pop as people began to claim their seats.

Harry was greeted with a whirlwind of Grandpa! and rapid tight hugs before they rushed off to be with their cousins. The exception was Rosario Potter, who Harry scooped up in his arms.

She was eleven, with his and James's unruly but soft hair and her father's darker complexion. Rosio, as her family called her, had large brown eyes that he was convinced could lure a thousand hippogryphs to bow before her.

"How are you, my little Rosio?" he asked her, as he approached the table. Magnolia sat across the table from Harry. She needed needed to hold on both to Teddy's hand and her husband's, Judah's hand to make it to her seat. Harry smiled at her father and husband’s clear worry. Harry was convinced that the babies would be quite healthy, but his poor granddaughter Magnolia wasn't enjoying additional baby-weight on her spine.

"I'm good, Grandpa, but Sander thinks I'm going to be sorted into Gryffindor," Rosio said with a nose wrinkle.

A funny thing had happened over the course of Harry's life and career, somewhere along his years of teaching, getting the Potter House back into the political loop, his kids marrying 'respectable families', and his ability to talk to snakes, everyone younger than James and Rose believed that Harry had been sorted into Slytherin.

Everyone.

Even some of the phoney history books had been edited to say he had been a Slytherin.

Luna, George, and even Hermoine thought that it was hilarious, and Harry had long ago given up trying to change people's perspectives.

Unsurprisingly, the only one who believed him was his grandson Gerald, who had been sorted into Gryffindor, the only one in his line as it happened who had been.

So he told Rosio, "They would be lucky to have you but remember, you can change the Hat's mind if you ask very nicely and sincerely."

Some tension went out of her and she hugged him and he hugged her tightly back, breathing in this moment that felt like home and late summer.

These were the moments that made life worth living. When he set her back down, she ran off to the far end of the table to sit beside Fredrick, Fred, George's son who would be entering the first year with her.

Rose kissed Harry's cheek before taking her seat beside him.

"How's my favourite daughter?" he asked.

Rose whose hair was blood auburn. It was ruby-like that even among the Weasleys she stood out as having truly red and not orange hair. It contrasted beautifully with her emerald eyes which she rolled at him, "I'm your only daughter, Papa."

"Nonsense," he tsked. "I have Sonya and Eliza, but you're still my favourite."

Sonya beside her husband, Teddy flipped Harry off in a bored manner as she continued speaking with Hermione.

Eliza leaned over the table to glare at Harry around Rose, Dharmik, and James, "I'm crushed, Dad, really crushed."

Theo laughed, "Don't take it personally, Eliza, I'll always like you better than Rose, even if Rose got higher grades than you-"

Eliza threw a curse at her father, and Daphne Greengrass gave her daughter a look. "Liza darling, what have I told you about committing homicide in public?"

"This isn't homicide," Eliza responded cheerfully. "It's patricide."

Dinner was a boisterous affair and Harry found himself just listening, more than participating.

He felt somewhat hollowed out having said goodbye to both Andromeda and Luna, but his family filled his heart. He wasn't sure how he could still feel disoriented, almost disconnected because of the intensity of the contradicting emotions.

Grief and happiness.

Harry was pulled from his musings, by a vicious comment Molly sent at Rose.

Harry had been Molly's darling for years and years, even when Ginny confided that Harry had been having an affair. Molly hadn't been forced to face reality until Harry had delivered the divorce papers.

Which Molly had burned, repeatedly, until Ron had called it, If he doesn't love your daughter, Mum, do you really want them to stay married?

But Molly had held out hope that Harry was simply being manipulated by Andromeda.

Things had taken a turn, however, when both Rose and James had been sorted into Slytherin House.

It was the 'Earth to Molly' that had been a long time coming.

But when Rose took the Zabini name, well, that's when things had started getting ugly. Harry had had to escort Arthur from Rose's wedding and had made a formal public apology to Blaise and Daphne Zabini. Which apparently was a bigger thing in the Wizarding World between Pureblood families than he had understood at the time.

Neither Molly nor Arthur had attended James's marriage to Eliza Nott, to both Harry and Theo's eternal relief.

At this point, Molly and Arthur were, well, old wasn't quite a strong enough description for the age they had reached. Ancient, perhaps, was more sound fit. Although, they weren't unhealthy, all of their kids, Harry included, had pitched into giving their parents a worriless retirement. Charlie and his wife had even moved in with them after remodelling their house.

Harry wasn't completely unsympathetic to his in-laws, they had lost three sons which is something no parent should have to live through.

However, Harry took about as well to anyone saying snide things to his daughter as anyone might expect.

Ginny, who was sitting beside her mother, long red hair having turned grey-white around a face that had more frown lines than smile lines, was not quick enough to smooth over Molly's words.

Rose's expression had gone mild, pleasant, and distant.

A generation in the shadow.

Slytherin and Hufflepuff Houses had become two of the largest in their generations, as children gravitated in two different directions when their parents were still caught in an endless loop of sorrow, fear, and chaos, they became survivalists or peacemakers.

For a few years, Gryffindor House had almost entirely become comprised of muggleborn students. And Ravenclaw had the quietest and shyest children Harry had ever met.

"I don't see why Rose never took after our Ginny. If that woman– ” Andromeda, "–had stayed in her role-"

"You know who you remind me of, Molly?" Harry called across the table.

Everyone at the table tensed, Arthur ran a weathered hand over his face.

Molly had not grown more stable over the decades, nor less fond of screaming in rage.

Molly glared at him, and asked in a warning tone, "Who, Harry?"

He smiled back brightly, "Sirius' mother, Mrs. Walburga Black."

The entire table held its breath, except for the grandkids, who ignored the adults and continued on with their various conversations.

Where the rest of them were all used to dancing on eggshells, the grandkids had learned that if you just walked normally, eventually the adults got over their moments of neurotic behaviour.

Molly's face went an interesting shade of pink under her cloud of white hair, but she said nothing.

She couldn't say anything, because if she did, she would start screaming, thus proving Harry’s point.

And everyone knew it.

Bill diverted the conversation.

Teddy’s look of approval was all he needed but the verbal affirmation didn’t hurt. "That was brilliant, Dad."

Harry smirked and hid it behind a sip of rum.

It was, perhaps at this point, Harry should have realised that mixing whiskey and rum was a poor idea.

The rest of dinner passed without incident –if one excluded Molly refusing to speak to anyone for any reason for the rest of the evening.

When it came time for dessert, every pair of eyes turned to him.

Harry looked at the puppy dog eyes of the grandkids with false bewilderment.

Harry Potter's grandchildren did not think of him as the Boy Who Lived.

They loved him for his baking.

Harry rubbed his chin, and frowned, "Why is everyone staring at me? Is something on my face?"

Rosio gave him a look, before crossing her arms, "Grandpa."

It was very, very difficult not to laugh at her tone, and even the ever-stoic Blaise covered his lips with a hand.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Damnit, Grand-dad," Magnolia interrupted, "I am nine months pregnant with twins, if there isn't a piece of chocolate raspberry cake in front of me before I have to waddle to the loo, I'm going to break into your office and set everything on fire."

Harry blinked at her, "What- oh!? Dessert, right, how could I have forgotten? That is typically my job isn't it?"

He waited for a response.

When no desserts were immediately forthcoming, an almighty chorused shout came from the younger end of the table, " Grandpa Harry!"

Harry laughed then snapped his fingers, and the table filled with plates and trays he had spent the last three days preparing.

There was a cheer that went up around the entire table, and the kids and the grandkids called, variants of, "Thank you, Grandpa! Thanks, Dad! Thank you, Harry!"

Hermione caught his gaze across the table, she alone, knew what these moments meant to him.

True happiness.

Baking was something he had been forced to learn under his Aunt with a threat of beating if he messed up.

Now, food was the thing he had used to bring and keep his loved ones together.

Luna had called it a transformation of something painful to something cherished. A thing without love given life with the addition of that elusive expression of the heart that had been absent for most of his life, but never, ever , from his descendants' lives.

That was his legacy, more than anything else, this was his legacy, this wild assortment of people he called family.

It was more than Harry had ever dreamed of having.

But all lights cast shadows.

Gin pulled him aside as the family took up broomsticks. Harry was only ever allowed to play the last round.

"I don't need your false condolences," Harry said as they rounded a corner.

She glared at him, "You didn't know what I was going to say, Potter."

Harry ignored her to look behind her as Rose and James began ribbing Teddy for becoming a grandfather.

"We could have been better for them," Gin said sadly, turning to look at them too.

But he knew she meant just the twins. She never acknowledged Teddy as his son. Still, he didn't have the energy to argue with her about that tonight.

"I may not have agreed with your reasons, but no, I never regretted them. Teddy, Rose, and James are the very best things to ever grace my life."

"But it wasn't enough to make you stay," she said, stepping into his space.

Harry backed up before she could touch him, hiding them from the view of the others, and said darkly. "That you threatened to take the twins away from me, Gin, that was the moment you lost me forever."

"Oh please, you were sleeping with Andromeda Black for years before-"

"Andromeda Tonks ," Harry corrected, his will to fight given wings by grief-driven frustration. He didn’t want to fight here, but did want to rage at this woman who still wouldn’t let it go. A woman who would rub his nose in his partner’s death. Like always, he stamped his emotions down. "And you're right and I am sorry for the additional pain I caused you, but Gin, by the time the twins were born, our marriage was dead."

" Because of her ," she hissed.

He rolled his eyes, "No. No, Gin, not because of Andromeda."

"Then because of Luna."

Harry had a temper, he knew it, everyone else knew it too. But he had made a vow to himself that he would never lose the temper on his wife or children. It hadn't been easy, not by a long shot. He had even sought therapy for it, so afraid that he might slip into a habit the Dursleys had beaten into him. No matter how much Gin had raged at him over the years, no matter what trouble his kids got into, he had never raised a hand or voice or wand against them. That his kids were terrified of his 'quiet voice' was just necessary parenting one needed to keep your kids from being monsters or getting themselves irrevocably hurt.

And until this moment, he had succeeded in that vow.

But on this day, there was no Andromeda to return home with because she was now gone like so many who had come before her, nor was Luna there to ground him.

So when Harry turned on Ginny, who flinched back from him before reclaiming that ground and getting in his space, he snapped like a bow whose constant abuse by arrowless recoil split the wood.

He was done with this woman spitting poison in his face, so sick of the woman he had once pledged his loyalty to, seeking to make him miserable, treating him like a toy on a shelf.

Gin was so obviously happy Andromeda was dead, it shone in the vindictive pleasure in her gaze as glowered up at him. She happier still that Luna was gone and that he was now living on his own. It's what she wanted for him since the divorce papers had been signed.

He knew because she had screamed it enough times at him, cursing him anytime they were out of earshot of the twins.

Harry was sick of taking her abuse. He had foolishly hoped that divorcing her would have freed him from the toxicity in their lives. In the end, the only thing divorcing her did was free him from the public pretence of being happy anytime they were thrown in the limelight together.

"Harry, it was your-"

"Shut up!" he yelled, "Just shut up! You listen to me for one bloody-damned minute. It's been decades. Are you honestly telling me that you don't know why I divorced you?"

"Because you were sleeping with other women!" she bellowed back.

Gin had always hated that he never got into this type of fight with her.

Well fine, if this what she wanted, fucking fine.

"Damnit, Gin! We married young right after a war. We were child soldiers, I might have loved you once, but we didn't know who we were back then; who we wanted to be. And we certainly didn't know each other."

And even as he spoke, he felt the anger retreating.

It was difficult to be pissed when you brought compassion and logic into the equation.

But Ginerva Weasley was a fireball and having finally lit a spark, she wasn't going to stop stirring the embers.

Even if the reason for his slip in control was brought about by grief.

"Oh, get off your high horse, Potter, don't tell me you didn't love the witches fawning over you–"

"Get off it?" Harry scoffed. “You should know I never gave a damn about strangers. Had I known, had I really understood, that you still hero-worshipped me, I would have never married you."

Her face contorted, "I never worshipped-"

"No, you paraded me about, you used my connections to get you through the Junior Quidditch leagues and onto the team you wanted. All those damned parties you made me attend and the interviews you allowed Molly to do."

She puffed up, "I got onto the teams through merit-"

"Gin, I'm not a professional athlete and I could still fly you around a maypole before you could identify where the quaffle was."

"Damn you, for always thinking you're better at everything-"

"I'm not better at everything. Quidditch was my only real skill, and my perverse luck that forced me to learn how to survive. But you never saw that, did you? I never really stopped being a child book character for you. You literally don't know the first thing about me."

"I was your wife! Of course, I knew you until you let your dick-"

He growled at her, "Oh, yes, let's go there, shall we? You were spiking my drinks with aphrodisiacs then left me alone on Halloween to go out to some party–"

"You should have been with me!"

"You shouldn't have been spiking my drinks without my consent!" he roared back. "You were my wife, I counted on you to be-"

"To watch you mope around or raise another woman's baby?"

"Teddy is my son!" Harry was nearly screaming now. "And you can go to hell for ever making him feel otherwise or feel un-welcomed in my home!"

Ginny laughed derisively, "Oh, so it was just Teddy? How long are you going to use him as your cover for having a kept mistress?"

Harry had to take a breath before he did something truly unfortunate, but he didn't hold his tongue. "Andromeda Tonks wouldn't have been so entangled in our lives if you had just let me bring Teddy home."

"I didn't want-"

"Kids, yes, you've made that abundantly clear. You were a fool for marrying me if that's the life you envisioned for yourself. I was never going to be your kept husband to parade around in society. I never wanted a public life, I only ever wanted a family and friends. But you didn't want that. You never stayed in, you wouldn't let me live with Teddy, and you took custody of the twins who you only bore in an attempt to entrap me in our disaster of a marriage!"

"I loved you!" she wailed, "I'd have done anything to keep you happy-"

It was Harry's turn to laugh, "Happy? Happy!? Is that what you call drugging me, never listening to me, never for a moment- putting me before your own selfish desires?"

"Selfish?" she spat, "You are the cheating bastard! I never was untrue to you!"

"Funny then how you keep dodging the issue of drugging me, then, isn't it?" he challenged.

"You were losing interest-"

"I fell out of love!" he exclaimed. "I didn't trust you anymore, I wasn't happy, and love does not thrive under such conditions."

"But Andromeda-"

"Never gave a damn about my being the Boy Who Lived. She thought our world was stupid for believing Voldemort was gone and even stupider for thinking it was my job to fix it. She saw me hurting, struggling, and I saw her as the same. And she needed help with Teddy, Gin. You fail to grasp how difficult it is to care for a baby."

She turned her nose up, "I had twins."

"Yes, you did, and for whatever else is between us, I will forever be grateful for Rose and James. But I was the one who took care of the babies. Even after separating, I was the one who raised them, who cooked their meals…"

"You didn't let me-"

"Bugger off, you haven't cooked a day since you moved out of your mother's house."

"Yet you still divorced me, and you left them for a boy who already had a family."

Harry almost slapped her then.

"My godson is not an orphan," he said in a voice so contained, he could feel his magic rising to meet the pressure. "He is nothing like me because Teddy is my son . And you are a monster for ever trying to separate me from any of my children."

"That was your choice," she snarled.

He leaned in close, "No, Gin, it was your choice to let the sorrows of our lives turn you into a manipulative, possessive, and heartless bitch."

She blinked back tears, he had never called her such before, despite everything, he had never used such words against her, not like this.

But he was old and neither Rose nor James were naive to who their parents were.

"I loved you," she said like a broken record as if those words alone were a talisman against all the mistakes made between them. "I still do. And I love our children."

"Not enough," he said. "Not enough by half. You may love us, but none of us trusts you to be there when it counts."

"I did as much in that war as you did!" she yelled. "I suffered as much!"

He looked at her, just looked at her.

All her friery beauty, dissolved into a self-destructive obsession that had eaten her from the inside out.

"Yes,” he agreed. “And you were a stronger person then, or maybe you needed someone who wasn't broken in the ways I was."

And he stepped back from her, out from behind the house and found, unsurprisingly, a crowd gathered. Said crowd had put a wall between themselves and where the grandkids were soaring across a quidditch pitch that was technically on Lovegood and not Weasley land.

Harry could have done a lot of things then, could have confronted the understanding in Teddy's eyes, the rage in Rose's, or the sorrow in James's, but right then, the only two people he would have wanted to go to were the two people beyond his reach.

So instead, Harry took a bow to the assembly before disapparating away.

oOo

Thorin Oakenshield had never thought long or hard on the topic of halflings, or hobbits as Bilbo preferred to be called.

Nor after meeting one, had he thought much of Bilbo, whatever the wizard had to say about him. He just knew that they were a queer and simple people that lived in the shelter of men greater than themselves.

He had expected him to whine about the hardships, indeed he had, until Luna Lovegood, the queerest Daughter of Men he had ever encountered, engaged the hobbit in conversation.

And by his beard, could hobbits talk, and talk, and talk…

The one thing Thorin could say about all the chatter, was that Bilbo had a pleasant voice and was not by any means a poor storyteller.

That Thorin had tuned out of the topic and precise tales long, long, long ago was neither here nor there.

Yet Lady Luna listened to him with rapt attention. Days passed and her birdlike voice was interwoven with Bilbo's, asking for details and asking for side stories that the hobbit had clearly never had such an audience for.

Indeed, as Gandalf confided in him, most hobbits grew up hearing these stories and cared mostly for their own family histories, so by the time they were older, most tales were quite familiar to them. So Luna, being neither a hobbit nor a child, was the most singular opportunity for stretching his talents as a storyteller.

After the first day of travel, Thorin knew the little hobbit considered the girl a friend, after a week, he wouldn't have doubted that Bilbo would have given his life for hers.

To tell the truth, Thorin was growing quite fond of her too, even if she sometimes spoke in strange riddles and made comments that seemed both completely random to be spoken out loud, yet rang with a truth he often found impossible to argue with.

At any rate, he would have liked her just for the perplexed expressions she so often inspired in Gandalf.

Luna, though not a fighter, a hunter, nor a burglar, rather was good with the ponies. In fact, she tended to the ponies each and every morning and evening. Thorin was quite sure the ponies understood her when she spoke to them and would follow her to the death if they must.

How Luna Lovegood inspired such loyalty, Thorin hadn't the faintest, and neither did the Wizard.

So it was that Thorin, one night after Gandalf had finished recounting his finding of his father and a clash with a necromancer, asked Luna. "What of your people, Child of Man?"

She looked at him, and tilted her head to the side like a fox assessing a thing, toy or threat?

The first thing she said was not at all what he expected, "My mother's name was Pandora Lovegood, she blew herself up when I was little."

Kili spit his soup, and squawked, "What?"

"She was an weapons inventor," Luna said airly. “It was an accident, and after that it was just me and my father, Xenophilius Lovegood, for a long time."

"Is that all of your family?" Bilbo asked worriedly.

She turned a smile on him, "No, there is also Harry. My best friend. He is the greatest friend, the greatest person.” She paused to give Gandalf an odd smile. “And perhaps the greatest wizard you could ever meet."

“One of the Blue wizards,” Gandalf asked with a frown.

She shook her head, “Not unless they live in Exhile.”

"What of his people then?" Bilbo asked, "Seeing as he is your people as well."

Her smile grew, "Well, first there is Teddy, Harry's first son. Well, really his godson, but in all the ways that matter. I love him very much, and his daughter Magnolia-"

And on she went. There was something enchanting about the way the young girl spoke. But there was also something bothering Thorin about her tale, and when she reached Rose Lilian Zabini's wedding.

"But why would her grandparents hate any boy that much? Her father had no objections,” he asked, startled out of his own pounderings.

"Old families," Luna explained. "Blood feuds, mostly."

Balin shook his head, "Over what? Humans don't typically hold such feuds through generations."

"We were a small community that had survived several wars," Luna explained. “In the last war, most of us were children and were cleared for any crimes we commited. Old annomincities became quite current.” 

"When you say war, do you mean by an outside force, or civil wars?" Throin asked, not liking the sound of that at all.

“Yes,” she answered. “It made our small community even smaller.”

Wars were not uncommon in Middle Earth, but to speak so casually about one's own people turning against themselves felt disturbingly wrong to Thorin.

"Harry was actually the one who killed the Dark Lord,” she explained further. “He led our fraction against the fallen government. When the war ended, he was one of the only voices that kept the youngest soldiers from being charged.”

Thorin felt a chill go up his spine and at his side, Gandalf went very still.

“When you say young?” Dwalin asked.

“The older ones were in their twenties, but most who were forced to pick sides were eighteen, but there were a lot of children as young as eleven who fought and did not survive.”

Thorin knew, he knew , that humans aged faster than any other race, but that was still to young. Twenties was somewhat normal, but eleven?

Fili asked, "What was the war about?"

"The Dark Lord, Voldemort, and his followers, the Death Eaters, wanted to kill and enslave all non-magical beings and their descendants as well as the magical creatures that were human-like. Voldemort was very evil and wanted to shroud the world in darkness. But Harry killed him, a lot actually. He didn't like staying dead, but then Harry isn't good at staying dead either."

Thorin looked at Gandalf, surely the wizard among them, but no, Gandalf looked just as lost as the rest of them.

Luna stood abruptly.

"What is it?" Kili asked.

She shook her head, "Nothing, I just thought I heard one of the ponies. I'll be right back."

When she was out of earshot, Thorin asked, "Did you understand any of that?"

Gandalf sighed, "Not much, only that there was much she must be leaving out."

Kili and Fili began to theorize, and it wasn't until forty minutes had passed did they all became worried about Luna who had yet to return. Though she did like to linger with the ponies, they decided to check on her before turning in for the night.

The ponies were indeed agitated, but all present.

Luna, however, was not.

They searched the area for her, they found not a single track or sign of her passing.

After an hour though, they found something far more disturbing in the light of Luna's sudden disappearance.

Troll footprints.

oOo

Thank you Nauze!

AN: I just reread the Hobbit fully, and I am going to follow mainly Luna through it while Harry is slowly going to be pulled in as well ;D Please tell me what you think of the direction of this story or if you have anything you would really like to see?

Chapter Text

KEYNOTE: You can skip the family trees, I put in because I figured some would be curious.

P.s. Yes, this is the same back story for Deadly Belladonna , except for the fact that Harry is forty-nine in Deadly Belladonna and he is ninety years old at the start of When the Dragon Spoke to the Moon.

Family tree of Professor Harry James Potter

Harry and Ginny's Daughter: Slytherin Rose Lilian Potter who married Slytherin Dharmik Zabini (Daphne Greengrass/Blaise Zabini)

Harry and Ginny's Grandchildren: Slytherin Darcy Potter Zabini + Gryfindor Gerald Potter Zabini + Ravenclaw Chelsea Lilian Zabini

Harry and Ginny's Son: Slytherin James Sirius Potter who married Slytherin Eliza Nott (Theodore Nott/Tracy Davis)

Harry and Ginny's Grandchildren: Hufflepuff Alexander Theodore Potter + Slytherin Rosario Davis Potter

Harry's Godson: Hufflepuff Teddy Remus Lupin who married Sonya Shacklebolt

Harry's Granddaughter: Hufflepuff Magnolia Tonks Shacklebolt who married Slytherin Judah Bell-Wood (Oliver Woods/Katie Bell)

Harry's Great Grandbabies, twins: Luna Shacklebolt Bell-Woods + Liliana Potter Bell-Woods

Family Note: It is said that Alexander Theodore Potter's sorting into Hufflepuff House was the final cause of Theodore Nott's father's, Mr. Nott Sr., death in prison.

Others from the Weasley Family

Bill and Fleur's Daughter: Victoire Weasley Unwed, attended Beauxbatons Academy

Bill and Fleur's Son: Louis Weasley and Jacques Page, attended Beauxbaton Academy

Bill and Fleur's Grandchildren: Slytherin Dominique Weasley who married Hufflepuff Mavis Longbottom

Bill and Fleur's Great Grandchild: Slytherin Claira Weasley

George and Angelina Johnson Weasley's Daughter: Slytherin Roxanne Weasley who married Gryffindor Stephen Bell-Woods (Brother of Judah Bell-Woods)

George and Angelina's Grandchildren: Slytherin Juliana and Hufflepuff Luke Bell-Woods

Family Note: It is a matter of great despair to the Patriarch of the Weasley clan, Arthur Weasley, that so many of his descendants were sorted into Slytherin and Hufflepuff. In fact, of his line only Chelsea Lilian Zabini was sorted into Ravenclaw and Garrett Potter Zabini was the only one sorted into Gryffindor.

Notable Careers

Teddy Shacklebolt - Care of Magical Creatures Professor

Nevil Longbottom - Herbology Professor

Magnolia Bell-Woods - Transfiguration Professor

Judah Bell-Woods - Charms Professor

Angelina Johnson - Flight instructor and Medi-Witch

Charles Montague - Medi-Wizard

Scorpius Malfoy - Potions Professor

Eliza Nott - History of Magic Professor

Harry Potter - Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor

Susan Bones - Headmistress of Hogwarts

Hermione Granger - Minister of Magic

Luna Lovegood - Magizoologist and Dragonalogist

Note: Most children who were born from the Lost generation gravitated toward either Slytherin or Hufflepuff, survivalists and peacemakers respectively. Gryffindor and Ravenclaw were almost solely composed of muggleborns. During the following years after the Battle of Hogwarts, Hogwarts had record low attendance rates. Much of Hogwarts' prestige was lost though there was an uptick in acceptance rates for 'lesser magicals' and muggleborns, as well as a greater acceptance rate of international students (though this was the work of decades not seasons).

oOo

The Lost Generation

Those who attended Hogwarts during 1987 to 1998

Known as the Lost Generation for an uncommon death rate. Many were lost during the Final Battle at Hogwarts, many more came to take their own lives afterwards, many fell into some type of addiction, and many led lives uncaring of consequences and prone to taking dangerous risks that -more often than not- led to terminal results.

The survivors gravitated toward each other, most are at least in some way connected either by blood or marriage to the Potter and Weasley lines. Subsequent generations were unable to wed and the 'purity' of the British 'sacred' families in the ways of old were lost almost entirely.

The Lost Generation stands as a reminder to the Wizarding World for all time that children are not to fight in war. Children's rights and protection laws in Britain, Scotland, and Ireland have become the strictest across the globe.

The Lost we remember; 

or be lost ourselves.

oOo

WARNING: Warning for discussion non-consensual drugging and torture.

Chapter 4 - When We Run

Harry sighed as he heard a knock on the door.

"Come in," he called, not bothering to get up, or move.

Hermione, good old Hermione, walked in head high but her expression was the picture of an angry contrite.

No one did angry contrite like Hermione Weasley-Granger

"You never told me," were the first words out of her mouth, the bitterness thick on each syllable.

"No," he agreed, closing his eyes tilting his head back. "I did not."

"You look drunk," she remarked as she came further into the room.

"Really?" he quipped, "Because I feel hungover."

He still couldn't believe he had lost his temper at Gin in front of so many.

"What are you drinking?" Hermione asked from beside him as she sat.

"Water. Want some?" he asked and he held out his glass.

She took it, he opened an eye to watch her sniff at it before taking a sip.

He smirked as her brown eyes widened.

"It's actually water."

He smiled, "I stopped drinking after that night. An exception for that party. Foolish of me."

"What exactly happened?" she asked.

Harry sighed, "It didn't start that night. After the first year… I lost interest in our relationship. I- The nightmares were getting worse and Teddy was the only thing giving me purpose, a purpose Andromeda and I shared. Gin, well, she was dealing with it in her own way. She wanted to forget, like nothing had ever happened."

"Didn't you want to forget?"

He looked at her, the woman who had once been his best friend.

"Gin wanted to be young. I wanted to be a father. Teddy looked at me like I was the centre of his entire world, and not because I killed anyone, or because we survived a war. But because I fed him, because I was there when he fell asleep and I was there when he woke up. I made him smile, I made him laugh. I was his hero, because I was there. "

Hermione's face was sympathetic, "Ginny used to say you were closing down, refusing to recover, and growing distant."

He shook his head, "I was growing up. I never had much of a childhood, you know that, but it was nothing I could truly gain. I was too old, the dream of having that died with Sirius. I didn't want to go backwards, I just wanted a family."

"But you and Ginny had the twins."

"The twins were not what I expected but they were not a mistake. But I should have divorced her quicker than I did."

"If you didn't love her then why did you stay with her? If she hurt you, took advantage of you, why?” she asked. “Why didn't you tell me?" 

He looked away from her, "It was Halloween."

Hermione let him speak in his own time.

He turned his gaze toward the ceiling, "She wanted to go to a party, and I couldn't bring myself to leave the house. She asked me to go with her, I asked her to stay."

He tried to dispel the memories; he tried to forget the aching panic and crippling nightmares that something bad might happen.

And something bad had happened.

He had found it himself at the bottom of a bottle.

"I'll admit, our sex life when we first got married was good. The sex was always good, but I didn't crave it. I stopped wanting it. I stopped wanting it with her. I started to feel like she didn't want me , she wanted the Chosen One, her saviour. 

“As more time passed, it became evident to me that we didn't want the same things out of life, or from each other. The more she complained about Teddy and the less she wanted me with him, the less I wanted to be with her."

"I always thought it was Andromeda that got between you two."

An old spark of rage lit in him then, and he sat up, and he had to fight not to snap at Hermione too today, "It was never about Andromeda. I wasn't stupid, I knew Gin had been spiking my drinks some nights. But I was her husband, I guess a part of me thought I owed her, that it was my marital duty to her. If it was one thing I could give her, then fine. It was perhaps the only thing left of our marriage anyway."

Hermione blinked, "Harry… why did you… I was your first. You could have talked to me about this."

"What was I supposed to tell you? That I couldn't get it up? That I didn't care about her anymore? Your best girlfriend, Ron's little sister?"

" You were my best friend. Why didn't you talk to me?"

He was ninety years old and he couldn't meet her gaze, even now.

His one act of cowardness, his own petty revenge.

He had wanted to hurt Gin, he wanted to make her leave him.

He had, for once, not wanted to be the hero.

"What happened that Halloween night, Harry?" Hermione asked, her voice gentler than he had heard it in longer than he could remember.

"I got drunk," he said. "I found the bottle I bought for us, for our anniversary."

"I remember that. You didn't celebrate that year, Ginny was really upset."

"Teddy was sick for our second anniversary, dragon pox. It killed my grandparents, you know."

"They have a cure now."

"They do, but it wasn't instantaneous and Andromeda had lost people to that sickness too. It was a long night at St. Mungo's."

"That's serious Harry, why didn't you tell me?"

He shrugged, "I didn't want to fight."

"Harry–"

"You asked about Halloween."

"Yes, I did."

She gave him an expectant look.

He might have smiled if it wasn't for what he had to say next, "She drugged the wine." He let out a long sigh, his gaze settling on the coffee table in front of him. He traced the painted birds and turquoise flowers across that dark surface with his gaze as he admitted his shame.

"And I was alone."

It took Hermione a moment before she gasped, "You mean…"

"Nothing I did could subside the need, and it quickly became a case of…" He hesitated before plunging ahead, "Overstimulation."

"That's torture," Hermione said in a low voice.

"You have no idea," he said, his voice was empty.

"Why didn't you ask for help? Why-"

"I was ashamed,” he snapped, meeting the judgement in her eyes as heat rose to his cheeks. “Because I was ashamed, Hermione."

He despised the burning in his cheeks, that Gin still had that power over him. The violation of that night, his lack of control over his own body, and the humiliation of needing help. The sheer terror that he would, curled in on himself, crying alone in the dark.

He was an old man now, and he only wished that the past couldn't hold him hostage anymore. Or perhaps this was his chance to finally perge it from his nightmares.

"I couldn't ask Gin for help, even if I might have begged for her help had she been there. I was afraid others would overhear, afraid others would find out, that someone might see me like that. That she might confide in someone about it. I was even terrified that it would somehow reach the papers."

"Why didn't you message me?" she asked.

He looked at her, "We have a history, Mione. I don't want to know what would have happened if you had shown up. I think a part of me would have died if Ron had seen me like that. He and Gin were so close, especially after Fred passed."

"Did you find the antidote?" she asked.

He shook his head, "I apparated to Andromeda's. She helped me."

"So that's how the affair began,” Hermione said as if finally cracking open a puzzlebox.

Harry actually laughed, "Merlin, no, Hermione, of course not. Andromeda would never have touched me without my consent and I could not have given consent that night. I was so much worse than drunk, I was delirious, half-crazed, or maybe more than half. Andromeda hit me with a sleeping curse. She went back to my house, found the bottle and was up till dawn brewing the antidote."

Horror grew on Hermione's face, "How much of that potion did you ingest?"

Harry sighed, "Andromeda said a sip would have been enough for what Gin wanted from me. A glass would have made for a very long night indeed."

"But you drank a bottle," Hermione said, voice hushed.

"I refuse to believe that Gin had intended to kill me. Even so, if it hadn't been for Andromeda, I would either have been hospitalized or I would have killed myself. Not the ideal way to go, but I suppose Dumbledore's belief about 'love' being all-powerful would have been given quite the poetic spin."

"Harry," Hermione whispered, her hand touching his.

He wrapped his fingers around hers. "I never told Gin the details, but I did not return home for two weeks. When she finally showed up at Andromeda's house, I gave her the bottle and slammed the door in her face without a word."

"How did the two of you make up?" Hermione asked, "How did you forgive her?"

"I didn't. I never forgave her."

"But the twins couldn't have been conceived that early."

He nodded, "No, they weren't."

Her gaze narrowed on him, "What did you do?"

He met her gaze, "I slept with Andromeda the night before I came home."

Hermione let go of his hand, "Why?"

"Because I wanted to hurt the witch who so boldly called herself my wife, who proclaimed to love me more than anything or anyone. I wanted her to feel as I felt when she betrayed me."

"But why?" Hermione asked, "You'r- You're not like that."

His smile tasted bitter on his own lips. "You think you're the only one who changed after the war?"

Fury bloomed in her brown eyes, "No, but I know you, Harry Potter. You should have divorced her then and there, you should have packed your bags, you shou-"

"I wanted her to divorce me, Hermione. I never wanted anyone to know that I had been accustomed to my drinks being spiked by my wife, that we accidentally poisoned me, that she hadn't been there for me when it happened. I never wanted to explain that to anyone, not to her, not to you, not to Ron, or anyone . But I did want Gin to hurt. I wanted her to stop looking at me like a damn hero and see that I was just another man."

"You aren't just another man, Harry, you're a good person."

"I never wanted to be different. I never wanted to be worshipped. I just wanted bad things not to happen to good people."

"But that’s what makes you extraordinary, Harry. And what Ginny did to you was horrible, criminal even. Why-"

"Did I make myself the villain?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Because, I would have rather been the villain than the victim."

"Oh, Harry-"

"I told Gin I was having an affair while we were in bed together," he cut her off.

Hermione gaped at him, "You don't mean while…"

He inclined his head.

She stood and exclaimed, " Harry!"

He gave her an amused smirk, "Oddly, that made her more determined to keep me. I don't know why. As far as I'm aware, spouses have killed one another for less."

Hermione paced the room, "That's- That's, appalling , and you kept sleeping with her? You kept sleeping with them both?"

He shrugged, "Gin made me feel like an object, a thing to be obtained and kept. Andromeda made me feel like a man. The sex was better with Andromeda."

Hermione looked at him outraged, "So you cheated on them both?"

"Andromeda and I weren't a couple back then, it was just the sex. She's a Black, my sleeping with my crazy wife didn't phase her, at all."

"That's twisted," Hermione spat.

He smiled, "And yet you're surprised I didn't tell you?"

"Why the hell did Ginny stay with you?"

"That's a question you will have to ask her."

"You could have just left her, you could have refused to sleep with her."

"Hate sex is weirdly additive," he remarked.

"Harry!"

"You wanted me to explain. I was not a healthy person after the war. I was so far from okay that it wasn't funny. I shouldn't have gotten married, and I did not handle my wife treating me as her personal toy and public eye-candy well. I will not deny that."

"But you knew it was wrong!" Hermione exclaimed, "How could you… that isn't you. Taking reve-"

He leaned forward, "I never took revenge on the Dursleys, I let Pettigrew live, and I didn't mean to hurt Draco as badly as I did that one time; I couldn't even follow through with hurting Bellatrix after she killed Sirius. My life in my younger years was nothing short of a series of unfortunate events, and I grew accustomed to the suffering."

"Snape and Umbridge tortured you," Hermione said, her anger fading. "It took you a long time before you were willing to stand up for yourself and fight back."

He nodded, "I loved Gin once, no matter how it played out, I did love her, and more than anything else, I trusted her. It broke something inside of me that she would be willing to harm me, that she wouldn't care if I was suffering. It broke me. 

“I hated her for it, but I hated myself more for allowing it. Because a part of me blamed myself for not wanting her, for not loving her the way she seemed to love me. So I did my damndest to make her hate me in turn. To destroy the pedestal she had put the image of me on."

"But the twins…" Hermione began.

Harry sighed, "Yes, the twins. Molly told Gin that if she wanted to make me love her again, that if she wanted to make me stay, then she should get pregnant. Molly was right, of course. I stayed as long as I did because of the twins, but she was also so terribly wrong.

"Gin did not want kids, especially not that young. I did stop sleeping with Gin after that. I only stayed because it was made very clear to me that she would fight for custody. Any love I had for her died in those years. Andromeda and I started getting more serious then too."

"So you did divorce Ginny because Andromeda."

He shook his head, "No, I divorced Gin because Teddy was growing old enough to start making sense of the adults around him. She lost her temper at him once during the twins' birthday party. She made him feel like an outcast in his own family, just like my Aunt and Uncle had made me feel with my cousin. I couldn't pretend that was okay, not for Teddy, for the twins, or for myself and Gin. I do regret the hours and days I lost with the twins, that they had to grow up in a divided household. But I didn't want them to ever think that how Gin and I were around each other was okay. That a loveless marriage was acceptable, that being unwelcome in your own home was normal."

Hermione stared at him, "I regret not having children with Ron, I regret putting my career before our life together for so many years."

"I know," he answered.

She blinked back tears, "We were good people once."

He smiled, "Don't undervalue yourself, Mione. The world is a better place than it was in our days because of us, because of you. We didn't get the fairytale ending, we didn't escape making more mistakes or having regrets. But when I see the following generations, I see them living in the world we made for them and I believe they have learned from some of our mistakes too."

"They'll make their own," she stated.

"That's a part of life, and we are still here to help them through it."

She came back to the sofa and sat down beside him. "I'm sorry," she said.

He put an arm around her.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't there for you".

He rested his cheek on her dark hair, "Don't apologize, I knew you would have been there if I had only asked. That in itself helped me more than you will ever know."

She hugged him, "I would have helped you, I would have chosen you over Ginny. I want you to know that."

He chuckled, "I know that, just like I know you would have also kicked my arse for being so stubborn and self-destructive."

She squeezed him tight, speaking into his chest, "You got that right, you stupid dunderhead."

He kissed her head, "I love you, Mione."

"I love you too, Harry."

oOo

Luna was not a runner.

So she was surprised as the trolls she taunted to save the ponies that her feet and her muscles carried her across the forest floor as if her feet had been gifted wings like the god of mischief and messages, Hermes.

She still tripped every now and then, simply unused to the momentum she had, and yet… 

And yet…

In the theoretical, if someone had asked her to choose, Luna would have never traded her magic for physical strength. But as she sprinted for her life, the trolls bellowing about how they would catch and eat her, she was rethinking her position.

The trees and wind seemed to whisper to her, urging her on.

Just a little further, Fallen Star.

This way, Lost Star, this way, safety is this way.

Luna listened, following Harry's advice to follow the voices. She continued on, riding the edge of panic. She should be dead, she should be caught.

But the trolls' long heavy strides that chased her through the night, did not catch up to her.

Every time she tripped, scrapping her knees and hands, fresh panic would flood her, but then the whispering of the trees would urge her to her feet.

She did not cross the sea on a dragon's back to die by troll.

Exhaustion licked at her bones, strummed her muscles, as dawn pressed against the horizon.

And when the first trickles of golden light brushed the leaves, she heard her pursuers call out in fright.

Luna did not turn, did not stop, she ran faster and faster until she could not feel her legs, as if she was running on air.

She trusted her body, her mind, the ground beneath her feet, the roots that hummed and the wind that called.

Darkness began to eat away the light, but she ran through it until she fell away into the encouraging shadows, the soft prayers of the trees guiding her down.

oOo

Elrohir felt as if the trees were unusual awake this morning as he and his twin patrolled the woods.

"Do you think Arwen is ever going to return to visit us?" Elladan asked in their native tongue.

Elrohir shook his head, replying in the same, "Do you think Adar would let her travel? No, brother, if we wish to see her then we must make the journey to Lothlorian ourselves."

Elladan, who was born a mere few minutes before himself, sighed heavily, "You're right, of course. But it would do Adar good to see her."

"Estel has been proving an excellent distraction," Elrohir attempted to lighten their speech. "Estel is almost always at his side."

"Indeed," Elladan said before bringing his stallion, second only to their father's horse, to an abrupt stop. "Do you hear that?"

Elrohir brought his horse to a halt as well, going very still in his seat.

A moment later they both dismounted, blood had been spilled this day.

Luckily, what, or rather who they found in the protective arms of roots that canopied at the base of a grand tree, was a petite human child.

Perhaps, not a child, for she was older than Estel, but she could hardly be in her twenties. Her hair was white gold, spilling around her face in a silken tangle. Her clothes were interesting, the material unlike any he knew. For despite the blood stains from underneath the fabric where she had fallen, the material remained untorn. Her palms were less fortunate having not even that much protection.

Elladan attempted to rouse her, but the child remained asleep.

"I wonder what could have exhausted her to this extent, or why she is out here alone," he remarked as Elladan rubbed healing balm on her torn skin.

The injuries were far from serious, unless she had a head injury of some sort.

"We should bring her back home to rest before we search for her people," Elladan said, carefully lifting the girl in his arms as he stood.

His horse, Nhile, came without call to the roots where Elladan was able to mount without jolting the girl.

"Who could have left such a fair child behind?" Elrohir asked as he too remounted.

Elladan scowled slightly, "I do not know, but she will be safe with us."

They spoke no more, on high alert as they rode at a fast trot through the woods, Nhile's gate was smooth enough to leave the girl undisturbed.

Elladan slowed two hours later, and in way of explanation, he said, "She is waking."

Elrohir gave them space, not wishing to crowd the child as she eased awake.

However, the girl's waking was not slow.

Her eyes flashed open, and finding herself in the arms of a stranger, she let out an exclamation and flailed in Elladan's grasp.

Nhile reared, leading to the most amusing chain of events.

Elladan was sent sliding off the back end of his horse to land on his own rear, and the girl managed to twist to hug and hold onto the horse's neck. Keeping her seat, she leaned forward to urge the horse on.

And Nhile, the stallion who listened to no one but Elladan, started up into a run, and then a canter, eating away the distance that in mere minutes the girl and the horse were gone from sight.

There was a long silence that followed before Elrohir bent over laughing as his twin got to his feet brushing dirt off his rear.

"Yes, laugh, if it so funny," Elladan said drily.

This only caused Elrohir to laugh harder. Finally, he was able to gain enough control of himself to manage to say, "You let a human girl steal your horse."

Elladan scowled, "Nhile shouldn't have run off!"

Elrohir chortled, "Nhile is going back home, be at peace, brother."

"Why didn't you go after her?"

"And leave you helpless?" Elrohir offered him a hand, "Come, I cannot wait to explain this to father."

oOo

AN: Drama! And yes, this is the same back story for Harry as exists in Deadly Belladonna . Thoughts, ideas, desires, elvish horses, or feedback, pretty please?

Chapter Text

KEYnote: To those of you who don't know the Hobbit, either the book or movies, this chapter might get a bit confusing because Luna kinda wonders off. But since the story is about her, not me retelling the Hobbit, I hope you still enjoy.

Thanks Nauze!

Chapter 5 - Horses and Ponies

Luna dismounted as they entered a low valley.

The horse knew where he was going, but Luna knew enough about watchpoints to keep herself close to the horse's shoulder and not to look up.

The stallion brought them to a stable that was grander than most palaces and was far more beautiful than any castle she had ever seen.

The horse led her to a stable. She closed the stall behind him, running her hand over the nameplate that was a series of runes. "Nike?" she asked, then she shook her head, "No, Nhile?"

She had never seen runes used like this and they were a bit different but the basic sounds she could make out, sort of.

He bumped her hand gently with his soft nose and she laughed, taking off the horse's bridle.

She took the saddle off next and was surprised that despite the speed that they had arrived, there were no sweat marks. Still, after she put the saddle over the door and the bridle on the hook, she found the grooming brushes.

Nhile began munching on the hay that smelled fresh already in the stall.

He was great until she picked out his hooves, he leaned his weight on her and the leg she was trying to encourage him to lift.

But Luna Lovegood hadn't become one of the world's best Magizoologists for nothing.

She won the war of wills and Nhile stood very still for her. She had all four hooves picked in two minutes.

"Don't be grumpy," she told him. “It's important."

"You speak Common?"

She jumped at the voice.

Nhile swished his tail at her as she turned to look at a young boy sitting on the stable door, the saddle and bridle gone.

He must have put them away himself, was he a stable hand.

"Hello," she greeted, noting the contrast between his blue eyes and dark hair. "What was your question?"

He tilted his head at her, "You're speaking the Common speech, not many elves, least of all Elleths, I've met choose to speak it. And horses understand elvish better."

She blinked at him, "I'm human, not an elf."

It was his turn to blink at her, "But I was so sure… but your ears are rounded like mine. I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to be rude. My name is Estel."

"Pleased to meet you, I'm Luna," she answered, exiting the stall after Estel swung himself back into the stable hall. "And you weren't rude, but could you tell me where we are?"

"Imladris, though in the Basic tongue, many know it as Rivendell. How did you get here if you didn't mean to come here?" he said, and she finally placed his age at about ten years old or so.

"Nhile brought me here," she said, stroking the stallion's neck. "It was the fairest ride I've ever had." – If only I hadn't been so afraid.

Nhile preened under her touch and praise.

But Estel looked shocked, "Nhile really let you ride him?"

She nodded.

He laughed, "I cannot believe Elladan let you ride his horse."

"Estel," a beautiful deep voice called, though Luna could not understand the words that followed, the words seemed to breathe colour into the world.

A fair faced man, with a silver circlet over his dark hair, stepped into view. His clothes were robes like the ones wizards wore during weddings, only finer, and the style was more elegant.

As he spoke, he looked at her, and for a moment, she felt him look into her.

But she had long studied Occlumency with Harry and closed her mind to him.

He frowned at her.

And she smiled at him sweetly, she had lost almost all of her magic.

Almost.

Estel introduced them, "Adar, this Luna. Luna, this is Lord Elrond, Lord of Imladris."

She dipped into a curtsy as it seemed the thing to do.

Elrond inclined his head to her, "Welcome, Lady Luna. What brings you to our fair corner of the world?"

She gestured to the horse who had gone back to eating hay, "Nhile brought me here. I was just trying to get away from the trolls."

Elrond went very still but Estel exploded, "Trolls!? You saw trolls? Really what–"

"Estel," Elrond hushed before meeting her gaze. "How did you survive the trolls?"

She shook her head, "I don't remember, I was running away from them until the sunrise and I tripped. The next thing I remember was being in the arms of a man and I sort of panicked, but Nhile brought me here."

Elrond smiled at her gently, "Not a man, an elf, my son. He meant you no harm."

She bowed her head, mortified, "I'm sorry, it wasn'-"

He held up a hand and she fell quiet.

"Be at peace, child, my sons are rarely apart. Elladan would not be left alone without his mount. There is no harm done."

"But the trolls?" Estel interjected.

Elrond smiled slightly, "Are likely to have met a stony fate, such is the nature between trolls and sunlight."

Luna felt her shoulders ease.

She had really managed to save the ponies then.

Another elf came sprinting in the room and spoke in rapid elvish, or what Luna assumed was elvish.

Estel seemed to be bouncing on his feet, "Dwarves? And Mithrandir?"

Luna grinned, "That's my company."

Elrond and the older elf turned to frown at her.

Elrond asked, "What is a daughter of Man doing with a troop of dwarves?"

"I'm a dragonologist and we are going to the Lonely Mountain."

Estel's excitement shined brighter than the sun, whereas Lord Elrond looked as if he had been struck with a mallet between the eyes.

oOo

Elrond had at first been a bit amused to see a human child speaking with Estel in the stables. It wasn't so safe these days that they could travel freely to visit his people, so seeing him speaking with a child who could hardly be five or six years older than him, was a welcomed sight.

Though he did worry about what circumstances had left her alone.

Her out running trolls was a surprise, most women weren't in such shape for running long distances or at great speeds. Her traveling with dwarves was worrisome, but her being in the company of Mithrandir explained many an oddity without further discussion.

However , her being a 'dragonologist', something he had never heard of in his long life, was cause for great alarm. He could not deny the fear that entered his heart at her words. He could hardly follow the answers she gave to Estel.

This child was clearly touched, after all, no one sane worked with dragons. He half believed her a liar.

But his concerns were secondary to her statement about the Lonely Mountain.

Mithrandir, you chase as much trouble as you cause.

His sons chose then to arrive, Elrohir was smiling broadly and his twin looked the part of a statue.

He caught Elladan's gaze and his dear son dropped his head, colour rising to his cheeks.

A smile played on Elrond's lips as he said in the Common speech, "Lady Luna has seen to your horse, my son."

Elrohir laughed out loud, handing his brother the reins to his own horse, he stepped forward to the girl. Taking her hand, he said an elvish blessing as he laid a kiss on the back of her hand before saying, "It is an honour to meet your acquaintance."

Estel began to regale the twins with what Luna had been telling them.

Elrohir's smile fell and both twins looked to Elrond with concern.

"Estel," Elrond addressed, "Go with your brothers, I must return the Lady to her company."

And have words with a certain wizard.

Estel opened his mouth to protest but Elrohir cut him off, directing the boy back to the inner domain.

Estel waved to Luna, "It was nice meeting you, Lady Luna!"

She smiled, and for a moment, Elrond saw her light, as if she were herself elven or even touched by the Valar, "And you, Lord Estel."

Estel flushed and Elrond smiled despite himself.

Elrond led them to the front gaits where he saw a number of unhappy dwarves with their ponies.

But dwarves were usually unhappy around elves, there was a distinct sense of loss and despair among them all.

Until a halfling of all beings broke through the group to run up the steps, Luna hugged him.

And a great cheer went up, Mithrandir was positively beaming as Luna descended the steps with Bilbo and was welcomed with warmth and relief.

Standing to the side, Mithrandir said to Elrond in their tongue, "Thank you and your people for saving her."

"We didn't," he said, amused, "The troll met the sun and she stole Elladan's horse."

Mithrandir gave him a wide eyed look, and muttered to himself.

"What was that?" Elrond asked.

"Blessed by the Valar indeed," Mithrandir repeated.

"Excuse me?"

Mithrandir met his gaze, "She claims to be from West of the sea."

Elrond looked back at the girl, and the light she had hid from him made sense now. "I was not aware humans dwelt with the Valar."

"She is from the Lands of Exile."

Elrond stiffened, "What could a child have done to deserve such a fate?"

"Her parents, more like," Mithrandir remarked, his voice lowering further. "She is blessed and has passed through the halls of the Valar."

Elrond spoke drily, "And she is a dragonologist."

Mithrandir winced.

Elrond continued, "The Lonely Mountain? Have you taken leave of your senses at long last?"

Mithrandir let out a long sigh.

oOo

Thorin was relieved beyond measure to find their dragon expert, and despite himself, he was grateful to the elves for keeping Luna alive.

All of his people were. So the feast that the elves threw them was accepted with a bit more gratitude than they might have otherwise shown.

Luna had insisted on taking care of the ponies herself, greeting each one by stroking their velvet noses and praising them.

The ponies in turn followed her like goslings. She certainly could have taken care of them herself, nevertheless, Fili, Kili, and Bilbo went with her to assist and the four were late for the feast.

For a time, Thorin could tell himself that these elves were not the Woodland elves. He continued telling himself that throughout the meal right up until the Elvish Lord started lecturing him about bothering sleeping dragons.

Thorin couldn't hide his disdain after that.

oOo

Luna found herself falling in love with Imladris, with the graceful ways of the elves and the beauty of the many falls that were fed by the mountain rivers.

She adored it, right up until she realised how much her friends despised the elves and this place.

Well, Bilbo and Gandalf seemed to like them too, but the dwarves were clearly upset. So as much as she had enjoyed her stay among the fair folk, Luna found herself relieved when they had to sneak off in the night.

She only regretted not being able to say goodbye to Estel as they continued on the long road East.

oOo

Bilbo held himself back from complaining, not when Luna never complained, not about anything. He couldn't do less than her.

Her voice stayed cheerful, and Bilbo was quite delighted when he learned she could sing. Nights seemed less dark when she sang. The dwarves too, were warming up to her more and more.

If Bilbo were to be truthfully honest, the days and weeks that followed them leaving Rivendell were almost fun, like the way adventures were made out to be in stories when one was among friends and shared a common goal.

Things changed some when they got to the Misty Mountains.

It was so cold, Bilbo could hardly think.

But it was when the mountain shifted a bit beneath their feet that Luna, who had seemed unbothered by the cold, the wind, the snow, called out, "Stop!"

Thorin and Gandalf halted immediately and everyone stopped to look back at her.

"What is it, Luna?" Thorin yelled over the wind.

"We cannot take the ponies further!" she shouted back.

Bilbo huddled in the blanket he wore around his shoulders.

Bawlin called, "We do not have the time to turn back."

Bilbo could just make out the determination on Luna's fair face as she announced, "Then I will turn back."

"No!" Thorin yelled, walking back through the company. "No," he said, "It is too dangerous."

She shook her head and said stubbornly, "The cold isn't bothering me much, I've only to walk them back down the mountain base and they will know the way back to Imladris from there."

"Our supplies," Thorin began.

"Won't do us much good on lost ponies," she finished for him.

Bilbo watched the dwarven King's face, and remarkably, he broke first. He stomped up to her, and one last attempt to intimidate her into compliance. Naturally, it did not work on Lady Luna.

"Very well,” the dwarven king sighed. “Company, grab as much as you can carry."

Luna smiled and leaned forward to kiss Thorin on the cheek, "Thank you, Thorin."

He glared at her, "Hurry back."

She nodded and practically skipped off to Gandalf's horse to speak to the horse as if it could understand her.

Sometimes, Bilbo imagined the animals did understand her, perhaps better than the rest of them did.

What followed after Luna departed with Gandalf's horse and the ponies made him sincerely glad Luna had not been with them and he hoped that she would return to Rivendell.

That thought kept him brave even when they fell into the grasp of enemies who wanted to eat them. The dwarves were captured by goblins and Bilbo had the most interesting and horrid meeting with a creature that called itself Golem, or was it Smeagol?

oOo

Luna urged the ponies away and Gandalf's horse took the lead back to Imladris. She had faith that they would arrive safely and that the elves would take care of them.

However, she found that she had fallen further behind than she could have imagined.

She also discovered that the snow and cold did not bother her. That her feet seemed hardly to leave a print on the snow that packed up toward the peaks. It worried her that she lost their tracks, or rather, even the evidence of the passing of the company seemed to have been completely blown away.

Luna hadn't been truly alone since arriving in Middle Earth, it gave her time to think. The wind sang to her, and though she knew it was cold, it never seemed to rob her bones of strength.

What was happening to her body and her magic?

She was stronger than she had ever been, carrying back enough food with her than even a single pony had been made to hold.

She could still make sparks to light a fire at night but her sheer amount of physical stamina was beginning to make her reevaluate what the dragon had said to her.

Was she really human?

Estel had mistaken her for an elf, was that possible?

She touched her ears and found them rounded.

Luna liked the elves, but she didn't want to be one. Not if it meant the dwarves would hate her.

She sighed, even as it became clearer and clearer with every day that passed as she walked the mountain path that maybe she really wasn't human.

After all, Bilbo wasn't, the dwarves weren't, not even Gandalf was, as it seemed that wizards were something else here.

At one point, on her journey, she stopped to watch mountains come alive to play. She climbed up a crest to watch and wait it out. She kept score.

The mountain figures on her side seemed to have won.

She didn't start on again until she was reasonably sure they were asleep. She was forever thankful for sending the ponies back.

When she finally reached the end of the path, she arrived in time to hear Bilbo recount his tale of riddles with a monstrous creature and his mourning the loss of his vest buttons.

"Why did you go under the mountain?" she asked them.

Everyone spun on her and a united shout went up, "Luna!"

Then she promptly found herself being at the centre of a group hug.

She laughed, hugging the hobbit and the dwarves back, feeling altogether loved.

The moment didn't last as Gandalf warned them of approuching ganger and a crow cawed it's alarm from overhead.

"We must run, the goblins may not follow us but they have alerted the orcs."

The dwarves took her packs of food that she had lugged with her and together they ran.

She was the fastest.

Harry would have been proud of her.

Luna had never hated animals before, but the wolves that joined the chase reeked of an evil aura and she didn't pity them much when Gandalf threw cursed fire pinecones down on them. Only for orcs to come with fierce axes and start hacking at the trees.

Luna held onto Bilbo's arm to keep him from falling as she had been the one to carry him on her back up the tree.

She wished now more than ever for her magic.

She was beginning to lose hope when the talking eagles showed up.

The eagles seemed not to like the orcs and the evil wolves.

Luna happened to agree with them wholeheartedly.

As she rode on their backs, Bilbo holding onto her back for dear-life, Luna was reminded of flying on hippogryphs with Harry.

When Harry's life had fallen apart and Ginny started restricting how much time he could spend with Rose and James, Luna had done her best to distract him.

She always thought he would have been just as good with Magical Creatures as she was if things hadn't been constantly trying to kill him in his early years.

Nevertheless, the memory of Teddy's childish laughter and Harry's brilliant smile soared with her as they chased the sunrise on the backs of Great Eagles.

oOo

AN: Short chapter but all Luna :D Thoughts, reactions, hippogryphs, feedback, pretty please?

P.s. Estel is the name Elrond gave Aragorn ;)

Chapter Text

KEYnote: The name Êlúriel pops up but from what I can tell, it’s fanon, using it anyway but I maintain that Tolkien never wrote about her. Thank you, Nauze!

Chapter 6 - Simple Spells

The first years were perhaps his favourite, his first chance to get to meet them and inspire both fear and love for magic.

    And as was traditional, the first spell he taught them was Expelliarmus.

    His class was separated between Gryffindor and Slytherin, he would pair them between the houses after seeing who disdains who.

    Harry made it a point not to put rivals together, never wanting anyone to sabotage their partner on purpose.

    And as always, he took the loudest student to step forward before the class. He liked to build on their strengths. If a boy or girl was loud, he taught them how to speak, not how to boast. If a student was quiet, he would ask them questions in front of smaller groups during class, rather than putting them on the spot before the entire class.

    So as another class began, another Gryfindor boy stood before him, bold as brass, with his knees knocking together beneath his uniform.

    “The disarming spell,” he said, “One of the most important spells you can learn. The most important thing you can learn in a fight with another is how to get out of it, or how to stop it.”

    Some laughed, mostly the Gryffindors who had been raised in wizarding households. One even muttered, “So his true colours shine.”

    Harry hid a smirk, he meant of course, green and silver as only Slytherins ran away. Harry knew Draco hated that no one believed anymore that he had originally been a lion and not a snake.

    Harry smiled at them all, “And yet it is the spell I used to kill Lord Voldemort.”

    The class fell silent and the bold boy before him gulped.

    “Ready?” Harry asked.

    The boy nodded, holding his wand out and Harry caste, “Expelliarmus,” with deliberate exaggeration.

    It was a simple spell, an easy spell, one he could cast without a wand.

    But today was different, and Harry watched in horror, time slowing yet moving too fast for him to strike back. 

    His magic surged, and the power of the ill balanced spell, and was forever grateful that the spell blew backwards at him and not his students.

    Harry’s hand smarted, the wood of his wand cutting into his hand. He was thrown with such force, he had no time to brace as the glass shattered around him.

    As he fell, glass shards suspended around him, he had two thoughts.

    Hermione would find a way to resurrect him so she could kill him herself if he had the nerve to go out like this.

    His second thought was to wonder if death would take him to Luna.

    Harry was nowhere close to the ground as he shifted to his kestrel form and soared back up to his classes.

    Harry landed with a flutter of feathers and on human feet, “Second lesson of the day, always expect the unexpected.”

    His class looked at him in horror, their faces pale and several students were crying.

    Perfect start to the new year, Harry thought with a long sigh. Bones was going to murder him.

    Gandalf had given the troop their instructions but as he told his tale and the dwarves came into Beorn’s home in pairs, the shifter became ever more impatient though less hostile. 

    Still, by the end of his tale, Luna had still not shown.

    Beorn asked, “Who is the last of your company then?”

    “Her name is Luna-”

    “A dwarven female travelling on this sort of quest? Or are you to tell me there is another halfing?”

    Gandalf sighed, “She is human.”

    All the amusement left Boarin’s face as he went very still to listen, and Beorn growled, “She is with my ponies.”

    “Now wait a moment-” Gandalf cautioned but Beorn was already stomping out the back door.

Gandalf had his hand on his staff, ready to defend the youngest member of their company, only to find Beorn rendered frozen at the sight before them.

    Gandalf walked to the shifter’s side, watching as every equine Beorn had, even the foals gathered around the fair child.

    He thought he would have to say something, however, one look at Beorn’s softening expression let him know all he needed to know.

    He turned back the barn, leaving the two kindred spirits time to get to know each other.

    Luna had never met such beautiful horses and ponies. The elven horses had been most fair, but these... there was something wild and loved about them. They belonged to the land and the land belonged to them.

    But they were not predators, yet they were so curious. They came to her hands, and soon she found herself in their midst as they bumped her shoulders.

    She heard them shift before she felt his presence; she knew before looking at him that he was their protector.

    The horses didn’t just like him, they loved him.

    She curtsied to the giant of man, or being, she needed to stop assuming people were human here.

    He raised a hairy brow at her, “Aren’t you afraid of me, child?”

    Luna reached out to the nearest black and white horse who met her touch with flapping lips, “They are not afraid of you, and I’ve always found horses to be a fine judge of character.”

    He huffed, laying his hand on one of their backs, she realized then, that even the largest horse was too small to carry him. Which meant he raised them for love of them, not as beasts of burden.

    “Why do you smile, child?”

    “I am not a child,” she stated.

    “How old are you?” he asked smugly.

    She smirked, “I’m eighty-nine years old.”

    He stared at her then smiled widely, “So you aren’t human.”

    She shrugged, “Gandalf tells me I was blessed by the Valar.”

    “What do you believe?” 

    She leaned against a horse’s spotted shoulder, “I’m not sure yet.” She turned back to the ponies, “Will you introduce me, then?”

    The giant bear-like man laughed, “You ask for their names before mine?”

    She smiled, “The wizard said you had a temper.”

    “Not for guests who value my herd above themselves. You asked for their names before you asked for shelter.”

    “I seem to be the only one among the company content to sleep in the trees beneath the stars.”

    He looked at her for a long time, before saying, “Katniss is the one you’re leaning on.”

    He introduced the entire herd to her, telling her stories of each of their preferences and quirks. 

    Only when the sun had set, did he introduce himself as Beorn.

    He made her dinner and she fell asleep that night beneath the stars, curled into the warm side of a great fuzzy bear.

    If she had any doubts about belonging in this world, it was put to rest by the number of friends she made, at how readily she was accepted here.

oOo

    “Thank you, Beorn,” Luna said holding his hand, which was really more like holding his finger as she perched bareback on one his largest horses. “I am truly honoured and grateful for this gift.”

    “Come visit me anytime you like, little star,” Beorn said, “I may even gift you some of my foals that you may one day start a herd of your own. If you ever settle.”

    Luna couldn’t contain her smile, “I can think of no better life.”

    Beorn grunted but she did not miss the happiness and pleasure in his dark eyes. He raised his hand toward them before disappearing into the treeline, but she knew he would follow them.

    As they started on their way to Mirkwood, she found Gandalf staring at her.

    “What is it?” she asked as Bilbo and Thorin brought their ponies up to them. 

    Gandalf met her gaze, “Do you know what that offer means? An offer Beorn has made to no other in Middle Earth.”

    She smiled, “Likely better than you do,” she leaned forward to run a hand under the soft fur and warm neck under the mare’s mane. 

    “Do you think so?” Gandalf asked her, tipping his head back to look at her fully from under the rim of his hat.

    She nodded, “I do, because they mean more to me than they do to even you.” And with that, she urged the horse forward, and together became earth rising to meet the horizon as they sped over the green grasses.

    The dwarven king looked at Gandalf, “Wizard, have you ever met anyone like her before?”

    He sighed stroking his greying beard, “No, no I have not, but then, she is the first Dragonologist I have ever met, and the first person from the Lands of Exile to return to Middle Earth I know of.”

    Even as he said this though, Gandalf couldn’t help thinking how much she reminded of an elf child.

    Except that was impossible for a number of reasons, mainly, because no elf child would ever go unaccounted for. She was too young to be a child of parents who had survived a war, and no children were born in Valar.

    He supposed she could have been conceived in the Lands of Exile, but even that seemed so unlikely to him.

    Elven children could only be conceived in love and want for a child, such things seemed unlikely to be in the Lands of Exile.

    Bilbo spoke, “Do you think we will find her people in the East?”

    Gandalf sighed, “For her sake, I hope that we do.”

    “She can come home with me if we don’t,” Bilbo stated.

    Gandalf smiled at him, “I think she values your friendship, Bilbo Baggins, more than you will ever know.”

    Bilbo looked away, heat rising to his cheeks at the compliment.

    Luna looked up at the great forest and felt its sickness, felt the creeping darkness like a stain on a white gown.

    “Don’t unsaddle my horse,” Gandalf called.

    “You’re leaving us?” Fíli asked.

    “I have business, I will be with you before you reach the mountain,” he said, as he turned back to remount his horse, “Do not stray from the path, or you shall never find it again.”

    Luna tried to hold onto those words as they entered the green woods.

    But the woods spoke to her, called her name, reached out to her, and sang in such sweet melodies.

    She was lost before she remembered to take so much as one step off the path.

    She should have been scared, if not for herself then for her friends.

    But the trees…

    Oh, the trees.

    She felt as if she had been looking for home all her life, and now, here she had found it.

    She had always been good at climbing trees, but now, it was trees were arms holding her up. She touched their bark, felt how they were connected, felt where they were strong and where they were weak.

    Felt the spider nests that grew in them like a cancer. Felt the dwellings of the elves like their heart, their touch and song like veins bringing life’s blood to the forest.

    Yes, the woods could survive without them, but it would not be the same, just as the elves would not be the same without them.

    Their branches and leaves stretched up toward the sun and from the elves, they had even learned to reach for the moon, for the cold distant light of starlight.

    She followed the leaves, climbed to the canopy above. Black butterflies with velvet wings danced there.

    Go along the East Road and you shall find your people.

    Was it silly that she felt the trees were her people?

    She had found one of the tallest trees and as she looked around at the horizon, at the landscape of Middle Earth, she saw far in the distance, a lone mountain, like a shadow striking out against the sky.

    The Lonely Mountain.

    It was as if the sight brought reality crashing back down on her, drowning out the sound and call of Mirkwood.

    Dwarves.

    Hobbits.

    Wizards.

    Humans.

    Goblins.

    Orcs.

    Shapechangers.

    Elves.

    She knew now to whom she belonged. Or rather, who her parents had belonged to.

    Luna was more ready to accept the trees than the elves.

    Would the dwarves hate her?

    Would she be able to find her father? Discover why her mother had left him?

    She still didn’t fully understand Valar, she only suspected that it was a place of rest and that to want such a rest was to pass on the desire to raise one’s daughter. 

    Had her birth father felt the same? Was he dead?

    She pushed these concerns aside as she asked the trees to lead her to her friends. And lead her they did.

    Anger pooled in her gut as she saw the elves surrounding her friends with arrows knocked at them.

    Luna did not have much magic left in her, but she had enough.

    She crept above the branches, even higher than the elves in the trees. 

    One elf saw her, raising his bow, his blue eyes met hers, and for a second, she felt a moment of vertigo. His eyes were the same shade as hers.

    She was like him and he was like her.

    But she was from the Lands of Exile.

    She had gone through hell, and she had been hated, and loathed, and outcasted, and she had had so few friends she could count them on one hand.

    That was not a world these people knew among their own kind.

    She had been told that elves were ageless.

    But Luna had known time, knew decay and loss as well as she knew the lives of the creatures and beings she tended to.

    She let that fuel her magic, let her pain and fear she kept deep inside flow to her hands.

    The elf who had spotted her hesitated.

    His mistake.

    She dropped, his arrow whisked over her head, and she spun, hair hands throwing sparks and blaze. She aimed over the dwarves head and the elves called out in shock, and the elf who shot at her looked panicked as she landed in a crouch directing a blaze at him.

    The dwarves let out a battle call and chaos unfolded.

    Wand practice with Harry Potter made her one of the fastest duelists in all of Britain. So even without a wand her motions were precise. 

    She didn’t aim for death shots, she aimed for the bows, for the fletchings bundled at their backs.

    The elves cried out in surprise or fright, many spinning to drop their arrows and used their bows to block the dwarves' axes and swords.

    She got most of the arrows and the elves resorted to their own swords.

    “Stop!” the elf that had shot at her called in Basic. He had his dual swords crossed at Bilbo’s neck.

    Luna Lovegood had rarely hated any one person so much.

    “Put down your weapons,” he commanded.

    Thorin growled, but was the first to throw down his sword. The others followed, but Luna jumped the elf who had put down his swords to bind Bilbo.

    Caught off guard, she was able to tackle the bigger male to the ground, she told Bilbo to run as he rolled out of the way.

    He was able to get behind a tree and the other elves signalled to one another as Bilbo escaped inexplicably past them all.

    Luna continued to fight the elf to get him to drop his swords, but she was unwilling to use her gifts.

    The war had changed her, and she never wanted to truly hurt anyone again. 

    She never wanted to kill again, and she had the freedom to choose not to kill.

But she had deduced that this one was the leader, and the longer she distracted him, posed some kind of threat to him, the others would be more focused on her than on recapturing Bilbo.

    The elf figured out that she wouldn’t use the fire on him pretty quick, as he rolled them. He was clearly better trained in combat because he flipped them and she somehow ended up on her knees with him tying her hand behind her back. He placed some type of stone in her hands as he expertly tied her hands securely around it.

    “That’s a fire starter,” he told her in Basic, “If you use fire, you’ll cause a small explosion.”

    She tossed her head back so her hair fell back from her face, “Quick thinking.”

    He stared down at her for a long moment, “I appreciate you not hurting my people.”

    She gave him a half smile, “I can’t say the same.”

    “You hurt her, pointy ears, I will personally kill you!” Thorin threatened, ignoring the elf stripping him of his hidden weapons.

    The elf was almost gentle as he helped her up, the other elves looked at her warily. 

    “How did you do that?” the elf asked.

    Thorin and the others all looked at her as she answered, “A wizard taught me.”

    “Who?” the elf asked.

    “Harry,” she said, raising her chin, “Harry the Black.”

    His eyes narrowed, “I know no wizard by that name.”

    She smiled at him, “Surprising as that is, you don’t know mine either.”

    He smirked, “What is a daughter of man doing with a bunch of dwarves?”

    She batted her eyes at him, “I don’t believe that’s any of your business.”

    “You’re in our forest.”

    “It’s not yours,” she told him, “no one owns them,” she looked at the trees around them and he followed her gaze before meeting her eyes, “you belong to them.”

    We belong to them.

    He stared at her, then spoke in elvish to the others and they were led away into the forest.

    Kíli and Fíli came to bookend her, but the elves never faltered in their guard.

    They were brought to the heart of the forest, to a fortress of sorts that the elves, Woodland Elves, Gandalf had called them, had built for themselves. 

    She couldn’t help but find the place beautiful.

    More lovely than Imladris and the falls were winding architecture grown from the trees.

The elves spoke in their language that was also different from the Imladris elves, and it spoke to a place inside her soul.

Each step she took, she came closer and closer to the person, to the being she had been meant to be.

She should have never been raised in Britain, should have never gone to school at Hogwarts, lived in cold castles and dreamed of magical things when she belonged to these trees.

There was no greater magic than this forest.

She should have been raised under these leaves and these stars.

Luna felt the spell that had been placed on her, became away of the illusion that had protected her in the Lands of Exile.

Her ears were as pointed as the elves around her, their blood was her blood. She was stronger than a human, and the elements did not harm her as they harmed humans because she was of the air and sky. She was a part of the life in trees and that which was given life by them.

She stood before a king with a crown of autumn leaves interwoven with gemstones and silver, as if the branches and leaves were as valuable as the cut topaz and rubies.

Luna heard a low humming, as if she stepped too close to a forcefield, a spell on the precipice of breaking.

The Elven King, King Thranduil of Mirkwood spoke to Thorin, offering his help in stealing from the dragon in exchange for a percentage of the treasure, specifically white gems.

The elf she had wrestled with spoke after Thorin refused Thranduil’s bargain, Luna was unsurprised by this but Balin sighed heavily, muttering, “We are never getting out of here.”

    Whatever the elf with hair as blonde as the King’s, as white blonde as her own for that matter, a white-gold colour that would be as snow or silver beneath the moon turned eerie eyes to her.

    “You are fire touched.”

    She looked at him and asked, “Do you know the name Êlúriel?”

    Every elf froze. Thorin and the older dwarves flinched.

    Thrandruil stepped forward to menace over her, and she did not back down.

    She had met the Dark Lord, she had been tortured by Death Eaters, by Bellatrix Lestrange herself. This pointed-eared man that looked too familiar, who looked too much like her in the shape of his eyes, the curve of his lips.

    He pulled his sword on her, laying the edge against her throat as he asked, “You speak of my wife?”

    The words were so soft.

    But the intensity of his face gave meaning to his words: You dare to speak of my wife?

    “Why did she leave you?” Luna asked.

    Thranduil pulled his sword back, his nostrils flaring, she braced herself for the slash of metal, so she was thrown off her feet as his hand came around to backhand her.

    Thorin threw himself over her and swore at the Elven King, before growling in Basic, “ Curse all elves!”

    The spell that had been ready to break, the illusion Luna could have brushed away with a mere thought, she wrapped tightly around herself, enforcing it.

    She was an elf.

    She was a woodland elf.

    More than that really, she was an Elven Princess of Mirkwood.

    But she didn’t want it. She didn’t want to claim this angry and greedy King as kin, as her father. She didn’t want to lose the friends she had made.

    So she was not insulted as she and Thorin were dragged to their feet by the guards, as some muttered the word witch in the way that no-majs spoke of things they did not understand. 

    And she even smiled in challenge as Thrandruil roared at them, “They will never see sunlight again!”

    She and Thorin shared a glance in perfect agreement.

    They might indeed be caught.

    But in a kingdom of armed elves versus a single overlooked halfling, her and Thorin’s bets were on the hobbit.

AN: Thoughts, ideas, kestrels, or reviews, pretty please?

Chapter Text

Updates: Laughing All the Way to London. I finished writing the last two chapters but I hate them sooooo, I have to rewrite them. My head has been a mess so I have about eight chapters of various fics that need to be edited that I can't wrap my head around. But I restarted the Hobbit and Lord of the Rings trilogy so here we are.

oOo

KEYnote: Alright, timeline wise, it doesn't matter, just know it's actually within the realm of possibility. The elves, I'm taking libriterites with, also Legolas doesn't have a Tolkien age so I am scaling him young. HP and Tolkien timelines DO NOT MATCH , like at all, no equal timelines whatsoever.

Chapter 7 - Little Moon

Thorin had rarely been so furious.

"We will die in these uncherished caves. Look at the poor craftsmanship!" Bofur despaired.

"It's nicer than the last dungeon I was in," Luna remarked with a slight grimace.

Kili scowled across the space between their cells, they could see about half their company. "Why would you be put in a dungeon?"

“Aside from enraging elf kings worse than our uncle,” Fili chipped in.

Thorin had been placed in the same cell as Luna purely on account of him preventing any other elf from coming near her.

Luna's gaze went distant, "We were captured during the war." Her gaze sharpened on Thorin, "Will the elves torture us too?"

Too.

His heart broke for her, no child should ever know such pain. And a woman should be protected. He wondered again why Gandalf had allowed her to come.

However, he was all too aware how this mere child had succeeded against, or avoided, all the trials of this journey until now.

The blessings of Durin were with her, and she meant to be with them.

Thorin spoke gently as he could despite his anger, "It is unlikely. The elves have many faults but crude torture is not their want."

"How old were you?" Bawlin asked.

"Sixteen," she said easily before a hardness entered her voice. "They didn't break me, not with spell or knife. I told them nothing."

Thorin had to fight to not growl, he had to remind himself that she was from the Lands of Exile.

The Lands of Punishment.

Such a place wasn't even a true fear among most in Middle Earth, the rumours of such a place… well, it was a place for the very ancient to be punished, far beyond the concerns of mortals.

Thorin turned up his palm and Luna laid her small hand gently in his, "We will never let such a thing happen to you again."

She smiled, but her eyes held sorrow, sorrow older than her years. "War cares not for such promises. I fear the Elven King's greed, Thorin Oakenshield. I fear Lord Elrond's warning. What happens if we remove Smaug from the mountain? What powers will step forward? If the treasure is as large as you suggest… who will come?"

Thorin shook his head, "If we reclaim Erebor then our people will return home."

"And the woodelves? What will they do if there is no dragon?" she asked, gripping his hand, the only sign of her fear.

"They will respect us," Thorin growled.

Luna raised her brows, looking uncannily like an elf herself in her fairness and with hair as white as the elf-king's.

Fili chuckled, "The girl does have a point." His nephew gestured to the surroundings, "This doesn't precisely scream respect."

"We will make them respect us."

Luna pulled her hand back from Thorin's then, her gaze wary.

"Luna-" he began, but she cut him off.

"I am not afraid of dragons, King Under the Mountain, but I do fear war. Perhaps we should ally with Thranduil."

He gaped at her, then all but roared, "After what he did to you!? After what he did to us–" He cut himself off when he saw that she flinched back away from him, pressing herself into the stones.

He reminded himself that she was still young by human standards and fought to even his tone as he said, "The elves cannot be trusted, they are not allies."

Luna didn't look at him when she spoke, "How many would die for the pride of dwarves and elves?"

Thorin wasn't sure what to say to that, if it had been anyone else he would have snapped at them, but Luna's cheek was still a bit red where the elf-bastard had struck her and he had not the heart to reprimand her.

She glanced up at him, "If you were human, I would say this would end in blood and not fire as you led Bilbo to believe. Humans are far more dangerous than dragons."

Thorin frowned, "Humans have yet to defeat a dragon."

"In my world, humans drove dragons into extinction and drowned the world in blood and ash. I've seen war, I've killed and seen my people, innocent and fighters, alike parish for greed and fear. I do not like the elves, but are they evil? Would it be impossible to find a compromise with them? Not trust, just a deal?"

Thorin frowned at her, "You seem so sure that it will come to war?"

"You hate them," Luna said, "You even hated Lord Elrond when he showed you not but kindness."

Thorin twitched, "Elrond is a self entitled snob."

"And Thranduil's heart has been corrupted by hate and greed. To ignore him is dangerous."

"He let our people starve, fend for ourselves when we asked for their aid," Thorin growled. "We owe them nothing."

Luna stared at him with unreadable eyes, "But you owe your people much. Unless you are fighting evil, then war accomplishes only one thing."

Thorin raised a brow, "And what is that, Lady Lovegood?"

She met  his eyes directly and said, "Pain and death."

Thorin felt a shiver go up his spine and looked away even as he muttered, "No one said it would come to war."

Luna pulled up her legs to her chest and said into her knees, "I think I prefer the Shire to the East."

Thorin's heart gave another twist, wanting to reassure this child who was hardly a child at all.

She was a creature too large hearted, too gentled spirited for the real world, to be exposed to such dangers.

But she had already lived through so much. Thorin wondered at her lack of bitterness, that she could remain so selfless when she had been so wronged in her short life.

Bofur asked, "Lassie, tell us the tale of your war so we might understand better?"

Luna sighed, closing her eyes as her voice filled the carven dungeons, "It was a world of magic and secret and we were a world divided."

The tale started before her birth, the first war ending with her friend's, Harry the Black's parents death, and began again when she was ten years old, when Harry first went to some sort of magical school where children were separated from their families.

She spoke mostly of Harry until her fifth year.

Where her and her friends formed an army because their elders were trying to leave them defenseless.

The tale only grew darker from there, from her father's betrayal to her own capture and subsequent escape when the real war started.

As evil as all the Dark Lords of Middle Earth were, Thorin had never heard of any who targeted children in mass before.

"Why target children?" Oin asked, Bifur, the toymaker beside him, looking nothing short of murderous.

Luna shrugged, "Grindelwald, the Dark Lord before him didn't. I think it's because Voldemort started so young. Harry said he killed a girl when he was still attending school."

"That's monstrous," Thorin breathed.

She flinched curling in on herself, "I killed people before graduating."

Thorin laid a gentle hand on her arm, "Murder is different, child, from fighting in a war."

"They are just as dead," she murmured.

"And how many more would be dead if you hadn't fought? If they had been allowed to live and kill innocents?"

She looked up at him, resting her chin on her knees, "I don't ever want to do that again."

"Yet you set out to help us kill a dragon?" Thorin asked.

She shrugged, "Death is a part of life. War does not have to be. Part of tending to others is knowing when their mortal lives have come to an end. I do not pretend to know when all creatures ought to pass on, but I know that dragon sickness is a terrible fate and one no dragon would wish upon another."

Thorin could not reconcile how old she sounded just then.

Men were strange beings and their females perhaps stranger for their strength was forged in different fires that Thorin did not pretend to understand.

"War scares you more than dragons," he repeated.

She nodded.

"Then once the drake is dead you must not stay at the Lonely Mountain."

Balin protested, "Wait, that was never the plan. That's why we brought Bilbo. To regain the Arcane Stone and unite our people under a single banner. Not kill the dragon and resettle Erebor."

Thorin looked across the expanse at his old friend, "Would it not be better to reclaim our home?"

Balin was gaping at him, "I understood you and the wizard were talking about this vaguely but Thorin- we are thirteen dwarves, we are not an army of any stretch of the imagination, we are not– We are not prepared. We could not call to help in time and how would we kill the dragon?"

"In the story you told us," Luna said. "You said there was a city of men? Do they still dwell near the mountain?"

"In Laketown, yes," Bofur said, "But–"

"Then they will know how to kill it," she stated matter of factly.

They all stared at her.

Balin said slowly, "There was an archer who knocked a single scale from the dragon, however, that is no guarantee-"

"They are human," Luna snapped. "They can kill anything they set their mind to destroying and if they have lived in the shadow of fear for decades someone among them would have come up with something."

Thorin stared at her, concerned now at finally hearing the bitterness in her tone, about her own people.

Not that Thorin much liked her people anyhow.

Bofur asked gently, "Why do you think that?"

"Because," she said dully. "In every man is born good and evil, and evil too often wins."

Thorin pulled her into a hug, and the child fell lax in his arms as if the effort of holding herself together had finally been lifted. She settled against him like a kitten finding someplace warm to nest.

She fell asleep not long after.

It was a silent pledge between them all that they would see her to safety. Bofur and Oin offered to return with her and Bilbo if they did indeed by some miracle slay Smaug and war came to their foothills. The others would have liked to go but all agreed they would need them for the upcoming battles.

Bofur was handy in a fight, but gentle natured and Oin was getting on in years. Balin was too keen a techticticain to part with.

The company worried for the days that passed.

But Bilbo came through for them, providing their escape in wine barrels.

oOo

Legolas followed his Adar out of the hall. The King hadn't stayed at the feast very long and he had drunk faster than he ever had before.

His father didn't stumble until they were just outside his chamber.

Legolas dismissed the guard before putting his shoulder under his adar's shoulder.

The king didn't protest, which was when Legolas truly began to worry.

"Adar?" Legolas asked as his father sat heavily on his bed, bowing his head in a gesture of defeat he had never witnessed from His father before.

Ever so gently, Legolas took off his crown and set it on the side table. Then he knelt at his sire's feet, "Adar, please speak to me?"

Adar didn't look at him, staring down at his hands, and he said brokenly, "Êlúriel, oh, Êlúriel…"

Legolas stilled, he was very young when his mother had disappeared and his Adar had ceased speaking of her, ceased allowing others to speak of her.

The girl today was the first to speak that name in nearly two hundred years. Legolas himself had hardly been of full maturity at hundred-twenty-eight years old.

Though he knew himself to be spoiled.m, he was, after all, the last elf child to be born in Middle Earth. It was sometimes annoying as his kin rarely let him get into trouble on his own, but then, he had never known a lack of love. Which was true of all elfings, but for him, almost all their Kingdom was as an uncle, aunty, brother, or sister.

Legolas took one of his father's hands and repeated, "Adar…"

King Thandruil looked up at him with tears falling from his eyes, "We fought that night. I do not know why Êlúriel did not come home, but I know why she left. Legolas, my son, you don't have a mother because of me."

Legolas squeezed his hand, wanting to ask what the fight was about and at the same time, not wanting to know.

In all likelihood, his mother had been killed or succumbed to some darker fate beneath the malice of evil things that ventured ever deeper into their realm. No matter what they had fought about, that would never be his Adar's fault.

So instead, he said, "I was young, Adar, but not a child."

Adar gripped his hand tightly to the point of almost pain and more emotions than he had ever seen on his sire's face were there for him to read.

Pain, regret, and deepest, deepest sorrow.

"If I had seen her body I would have left you too, but hope has hardened my heart. I'm in love with a memory, but it is a just fate that I suffer in this purgatory for being the cause of her departure."

Legolas had never seen his Adar like this and despite not knowing the circumstances, he knew that the pain of losing a mother paled in comparison to severing the other half of one's soul. So he said, "It wasn't–"

Adar spoke over him, the words almost hissed out. "She was with child."

Legolas stilled.

A sibling?

A younger sibling?

His heart twisted and he squeezed his hand, "I am so sorry, Adar."

"We lost them both." Then his adar pulled away, tears still fresh on his cheeks. "Goodnight, my son."

Legolas knelt frozen as his father turned his back on him and stretched curled up alone on his bed.

A dismissal.

One Legolas took, leaving the room swiftly and closing the door softly behind him.

He felt oddly light, his heart in knots as he tried to think through…

The stolen possibilities.

The reason why everyone treated him so softly, even visiting Lords from distant lands. Why he had never been allowed to travel on his own. Why his father was so angry, so cold, so distant at times.

He hadn't just lost his wife.

But a child.

An unborn child.

Legolas went up and up, searching for something, for solace, for council amongst the stars.

He wasn't the last elf born in Middle Earth.

Or maybe he was but he wasn't supposed to be.

A rustling went through the leaves, a breeze, a wind, a quiet song of the wood.

His home. His kingdom. His wood.

It's not yours. No one owns them. You belong to them.

In his grief, Legolas felt empty, and he let himself follow that quiet song, that soft call. It took him North, far from the spiders and far from his father.

oOo

Escaping was too easy.

Luna's 'inhuman' way of walking that she had caused her to skip most places to be called flaky rather than freakish, made her just one of the crowd here. Her appearance was easily masked by the cloak she picked up from one of the guards. She let some of her hair spill forward and it was like a free pass.

It was she who provided the distraction to draw the guards attention away from the wine cellar. And it was she who pulled the lever to be left behind. She promised them all that she would find her own means of escape.

Thankfully she had earned their trust by now.

There weren't many elves in need of being waylaid as the dungeons were deep below, and fortress or no, the elves had been described as loving the stars.

She went up, and up, and up, till she found an opening between branches, a staircase, and a watch tower.

It was nothing for her to leap from one tree branch to the next.

Unfortunately, it was nighttime, and it wasn't until the sun rose did she realize she had Northwest rather than East.

Luna sighed to herself, but a rebellious part of her, the part of her that had finally learned who and what she was, delighted in the time she would spend with the trees.

And despite knowing she was supposed to be hiding from the other woodland elves, she couldn't help singing softly to every tree she touched, greeting them, and speaking to them at night when she took her rest.

The sickness that had laid over the path that Gandalf had directed them to seemed distant here, these trees were old and wise. And they protected themselves.

She found food and little springs easily.

Some nights she would go up to the uppermost branches and talk to the stars who glimmered down on her.

Had this been her home, she might have been happy.

But such wishes were foolish, and besides, she would have never met Harry or the dragons otherwise.

She might have even been fearful of dragons.

That seemed such a strange notion.

Days passed, until a week or more had slipped past her count. Luna knew she was taking too long, she was even putting herself in danger of being found by the elves again. But she couldn't help but greet all the trees she passed, listening to the way the wind moved through them.

There was something magical about Middle Earth, as if the divine were closer, and unlike in the Exiled West. The things that grew and died here were awake and aware of themselves in their nature, and there was something beautiful about that.

One evening, however, she nearly fell to the ground when one of the trees opened its eyes and greeted her in turn.

Plunging toward the ground, she was caught by a branchy hand.

 Luna looked up into the kindly face of a beautiful soul of an old heart of a living tree.

"Hello," Luna said.

The tree smiled at her and said in a voice of aged wonder, "Greetings, elfling, many star passings have there been since your kin spoke to us."

"I am new to Middle Earth," Luna said. "I arrived from the West only this year."

The tree let out a great breath of air that blew her hair back from her face. It hummed, "You are an elfling."

"So I've learned. May I ask what you call yourselves?"

The tree laughed, like the tingling of leaves in early autumn, "Our language is much too long even for your kind, though not as hasty as humans or dwarves you may be. But, in brief, we are Entwives."

"What name may I call you and if there are Entwives?" Luna asked. "Are there Enthusbands?"

"Treelyn," she answered before sighing, "Lost they are to us are our Ents."

Treelyn began her tale and other Entwives joined her with their dark eyes and beautiful formations. They were more reminiscent of giants in their shape than human, melded and bonded with different species of trees.

By the end of their tale, Luna was in tears, "When was the last time you asked anyone about them?"

"Thousands of years," an Entwive with cherry-blossoms said, "The elves don't talk to us anymore."

That made Luna mad.

How could the elves not help them?

They were wood elves.

"Elfing!" Treelyn called but Luna was already running back through the branches.

She might not want to admit to being an elf but she would do what she had to help these people, these beings who were trees given voice and heart, their families back.

There have been no Entlings for a terrible long count of years.

She would make the elves help them. Whatever it took. Even if it meant admitting kinship to the bitter King.

Luna was so caught up in her own thoughts that from one bound and the next she ended up smacking full force into another body.

They both tumbled down, the branches beating them until the man caught her around the waist and caught a branch with his other arm before dropping them in a controlled fashion to a lower branch.

"You," she all but snarled at male who was an elf not a man.

He blinked at her, "You– escaped?"

She folded her arms, "You followed me."

He frowned, his blue eyes looking mournful, his blonde hair mussed from their fall. "I wasn't, I didn't even know– did the dwarves get out too?"

She just scowled at him.

"Did you hurt any of my people?"

"Of course not," she snapped.

He shook his head, "Who are you anyway?"

"Maybe you should have asked that before you captured and imprisoned me, don't you think?"

"I haven't raised a weapon against you now, have I? And you are the one who crashed into me."

Never one to hold onto anger she muttered, "Luna."

He offered her a wane smile, "Legolas." He tilted his head, "Where were you going in such a hurry."

Feeling her fury return, her hands fisted, "Did you know about the Entwives and Ents fate!?"

He looked utterly taken aback by her tone and the subject, "What– I mean, yes, I know. The Ents lost their Entwives when they fled during one of the great wars."

Luna's heart leaped, "You know where the Ents are!?"

His pale brows rose, "Yes, they live in the Fangorn Forest, at the southeastern flank of the Misty Mountains–"

She jumped, clapping, "Treelyn will be ecstatic, would it be easier to bring Entwives to them or the Ents to the Entwives."

He gaped at her, "You know where the Entwives are?"

She pointed in the direction she had come from, "That way, so much for this being your forest if you didn't know they were here. I was going back to your fortress to ask for help." 

He stared at her, "Even after we captured you and held you prisoner?"

"This seems bigger than me."

He nodded, "Yes, I suppose–"

"Little Moon," Treelyn called as she came through the other trees that shifted out of her way. Treelyn steps were so massive that the space Luna had run, the Entwife covered in minutes. "Oh, another elfling."

Luna turned to the tree with a smile, "This is Legolas, he agreed to help, he knows where the Ents are."

Legolas, for his part, let out a low prayer in elvish as he stared up at Treelyn with awe.

But it was then that Luna remembered the dwarves and that they were going to poke at a sleeping dragon.

A dragon with dragon sickness.

"Legolas?"

The stunned elf turned to look back at her, blue eyes still wide.

"I still have to help my friends who I was travelling with.” She took the elf's hand in hers, she noted the calluses caused by weapon training. “Will you promise to help the Entwives for me?"

He bowed to her at the waist, "Upon my honour, Lady Luna, I swear it."

She grinned. Then pointed in the direction she thought was the right way, "That way is East, correct?"

He took her hand and pointed it to the right, "Find the river, where the hills slope downward. This far North isn't safe. The nights will begin to get too cold and though it is a straight shot to the Misty Mountains, crossing the wastes without a mount is not a pleasant journey."

She nodded.

"Thank you, Legolas." She turned to Treelyn, "It was a pleasure meeting you and yours. I wish you happiness in being reunited with your people."

Treelyn smiled, "Go with the blessing of the forest, Little Moon."

Luna didn't tarry, lest Legolas change his mind in letting her go.

oOo

The world was changing, they all felt it.

The last of the elf children had been born two hundred years ago. Even the newest of lovers were no longer inspired to have children.

Indeed, a shadow had fallen over Middle Earth and the elves had grown weary of it all. They knew how this played out, they had faced these evils, fought these wars, and the main difference between now and then was that there were less elves and less worthy men.

Talk of returning West had increased.

The last goodbyes were being made.

But something had changed in the last year, some Western wind turning East, carrying upon it something new, something unknown and unexpected.

Rumours of evil growing in the North were falling eerily silent.

But as rumours fell silent other things seemed to be… waking up.

Or perhaps not waking but waiting, like birdsong before the dawn, harkening the arrival of a new day before the day itself could rise.

It was a change that those of Imladris and Lothlorien listened to and were mindful of when Gandalf the Grey and Radagast the Brown called for aid. The very capable Lord Elrond and Lady Galadriel did not come alone.

Elrond's twin sons, Elladan and Elrohir rode with him as the brothers Haldir, Rúmil, and Orophin joined the Lady Galadriel.

The Necromancy and his risen ghosts proved fearsome enemies.

"You should have stayed dead!" Lord Elrond initiated the battle.

Though, let it just be said that the majority of the work, despite the presence of three wizards and seven elf lords, it was the Lady Galadriel who cast the Dark Lord back into the void from which he came.

Haldir sighed, rubbing his temple, "Curse the man who could not be parted with the ring."

Elrond bowed his head, cradling the Lady in his arms, "Cursed he was, for the ring betrayed him and he was slain. None knows what has become of it now. It is lost."

"And lost it shall remain," Saruman the White said.

Elladan shook his head, "I may be young among those here but that seems unwise, a shadow–"

"Are you learned about such things?" Saruman demanded of him.

"Well, no, but as a human child taught me all too recently, that which we are most certain to remain consistent can be shaken away in moments."

"And fall on their arse," Elrohir added solemnly, though his eyes were bright with mischief.

Haldir's heart lightened to see mirth in the twins again. Ever since their mother, Galadrial's daughter had passed on to the West after being attacked on the road, a hardness had clung to them.

While others sorrowed, Celebrían's fate had not, for lack of a better description, become them. Even Arwen, the youngest, was more swiftly recovering.

Then again.

What life was there for elves in Middle Earth. What future?

Even the Woodelves had stopped having children when King Thranduil and his Queen conceived only for Queen Êlúriel to disappear from Middle Earth, no one knowing the cause or if she still lived.

The babe she carried with her unborn.

Elven betrayals were rare, but in the time of conception of a child?

Unheard of.

Such was their world, no children being begotten, the chance of meeting your intended love grew slimmer.

Not that being unwed was rare or unnatural, but the majority of elves these days never found another who made their heart sing.

Unless one had the misfortune to fall for a mortal.

For mortal love was a song of only tragedy.

So could Haldir truly blame the twins for allowing coldness into their hearts due to the cruelties heaped upon their mother?

Saruman was arguing but finally Gandalf ended the debate with, "There are many evils at work that we can fight until the day comes that the ring is found. In the meantime, I must go. I fear my company is in danger."

Elrond nodded, "I will take Galadriel back to Lothlorien." He glanced at his sons, their uneasy expression, "You wish to join Gandalf, my sons?"

The twins exchanged a look then gazed at the grey wizard, and Elladan asked, "Would you welcome our help?"

"Of course I would," Gandalf said.

"I will go as well," Haldir threw in, not ready to return to the peace of the forest. He was growing ever more restless. He longed to find something in Middle Earth to keep him here, but the sea had begun to call to him. And he knew it would not be many more decades until he set sail with his lady to the Western shores.

oOo

AN: Please thoughts, responses, butterflies, and feedback on the chapter?

Chapter Text

Star Wars: I have several fics up, on going and finished, please consider reading and reviewing if you Star Wars?

AsphodelRose87: Catching Fire During An Unexpected Journey inspired this story which inspired Deadly Belladonna . If you are looking for your next Hobbit fix look to AsphodelRose87

oOo

Thank you, Theo! Reminder: The Hobbit was my first book, I've read it dozens of times, however, I do end up quoting the movies, because they are fun.

Chapter 8 - The Dragon's Treasure

In the end, they dug up Dumbledore's grave, Headmistress Susan Bones saying it was stupid to keep such the Elder in an obvious spot anyway.

With a flick of Harry's wrist, he was tossed bodily out of the high tower, luckily there was no glass this time.

When he swooped back in on his kestrel wings, the Elder wand splintered in his loose grip. 

Harry smiled slightly, finding he didn't at all care about the wand and he could tell that Hermione was clearly fighting not to laugh at him.

And Teddy, his beautiful and wonderful son, was outright laughing at him.

"Maybe it's time for you to retire," Susan said, straight-faced.

Susan, predictably, was scowling at him.

But she hadn’t murdered him so he was taking it as a win.

It was Harry's turn to glower at her, "My magic isn't gone it's-"

"Growing," Hermione said. “Which at the tender age of ninety shouldn't be possible."

Teddy began saying, "Really, Dad, how do plan to teach mere mortals–"

Harry pointed his finger at the boy whose hair turned an amused lilac, "You are not too old to ground."

Teddy guffawed.

Susan shook her head, "He's right, Harry, you can't teach your classes like this."

But Hermione had that look in her eyes, and Harry, like the teenager he had once been, looked to her for help.

"Perhaps," she ventured. "A staff might work."

"A staff?" Harry asked.

"Like Merlin?" Teddy asked excitedly like he wasn’t a soon-to-be grandpa himself.

"I thought Merlin had a wand," Harry mused.

"He had both a wand and a staff," Hermione elaborated. "It will take us a while to either acquire one or find someone who can make one, they are incredibly rare."

"And useless," Susan said, crossing her arms.

Hermione shook her head, "Only if you don't have the power to wield one."

"What do I do until then? Defence Against the Dark Arts is too important of a subject to cancel classes for," Harry said.

Susan smirked, "I'll teach it."

He frowned at her, "But you're busy and the Assistant Headmaster—"

"You can be Headmaster," Susan said, "I was thinking of retiring, but this? I would love to go back to truly teaching again."

Hermione and Teddy laughed at the sour expression Harry made as he glared at them, "I never wanted—"

"Do you want to leave Hogwarts?" Susan cut in.

"No," he said, a tad bit grumpy.

Hermione smiled at him, "And who said he would never get involved with politics or roles of major leadership and influence?"

Harry flipped her off.

Teddy burst out laughing again, near cackling, and even Susan laughed.

There was a hoot, and Harry spun as a snowy owl glided over to him.

Hermione blinked at the young owl and asked in shock, "Hedwig?"

Harry nodded as the owl purged on his shoulder, glared at the room with reproachful amber eyes, and stuck out her leg for him.

"Whose it from, Dad? Is it Aunt Luna?" Teddy asked.

Harry nodded as his eyes ran over the paper, and he smiled, "She's made some new friends."

Harry had just lost his position and gained more responsibilities than he had ever wanted in his life again, but this message made him feel better.

Luna was finding out who she was and where she belonged, and he could think of no one who deserved it more.

oOo

Luna found the end of the river and despite the glamour, despite the unknown terrain, she knew time was running short. Thorin and his company would be reaching the mountain soon. Durin's Day would soon be upon them, they couldn't afford to delay.

When she got to the great lake, knowing that going in one direction, thanks to Bilbo's maps, she would reach Laketown, she decided to do something fit for Harry Potter.

The cold from the mountain hadn't bothered her so far, and even in the icy waters, she had every reason to believe it wouldn't bother her now either.

Tying her elven cloak around her waist, because really, the cloak, despite its simple fashion was beautiful, and tucked  her shirt in around it, see securing her belt. She did this so the cloak, even waterlogged, wouldn't be dragging on her neck.

Then she dove into the lake, and began swimming.

It took a long time, and she had to pause to rest on ice blocks or rock croppings every so often. She discovered that though the water and temperature didn't affect her much, even if she could still tell it was cold and uncomfortably so, it was hunger that made her belly ache.

She didn't have any money, but hopefully she could beg something off the townspeople.

Luna arrived at Laketown when the sun was setting, and chilled to the bone, she dragged herself onto one of the docks like an addled seal. Her heart was racing as she stared up at the cloudy sky painted in pink and orange from the dying sunlight.

She laid there and just breathed, having some regrets as again her stomach twisted with hunger pangs. Swimming was more work than she should have gambled with.

Staggering to her feet and feeling not unlike a drowned cat, she made her way into the ramshackled town that was held up on stilts above –or not so above– the water in some places.

The people here seemed rather depressed and self-centred, and she realized how long it had been since she had seen men, how different they were from elves, dwarves, and hobbits. She was so distracted by her own observations and the soden fabric chilling against her skin, colder than being submerged in the water, that she didn't notice the man lurking in an alley.

A man with a flap-eared hat, greedy eyes, and rotten teeth who grabbed her arm, pulling her into the shadows and began to reach for her pants.

She was too cold to summon fire, too tired to truly fight back even as she reached to claw at his face, to push back from him.

Luna screamed.

She hated men.

Her mind spun light headed and outraged that it would be this, this , twist of misfortune that would do her in. 

Men were a curse upon the world, humanity the doom of all that lived and grew.

But as fate would have it, it was a man who came to her rescue. The dark haired stranger pulled the leech off her by the back of his neck and threw him bodily into the water.

She spat at the man whose head came out of the water-gasping, lips already blue from the cold. She stomped on his fingers and kicked him in the face as he tried to get back on the docks. He plunged back into the water.

The next time he came up for air, he was more frantic, less sure of how to get out.

"Come, this way," her rescuer beckoned, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder.

Luna followed, eager to get away from this conflict.

"My name is Bard," the man said, his long hair framed handsome brown eyes that looked at her with care and without greed or pity.

The kindness in those eyes reminded her heart of Harry who had been human too.

"Thank you, Bard," she managed, before saying, "My name's Luna Lovegood."

He smiled at her, "You're a bit too fair to be from these parts, and I don't believe I recognize your accent." He directed her up some stairs, "This is my home, you are welcome to stay the night with me and my family."

Somewhat reluctantly, she obeyed, but she relaxed when she entered the well loved home and the man behind her was greeted by three loving children.

The three children—who introduced themselves as Bain, Tilda, and Sigrid—looked at her curiously.

Luna smiled at them, "My name is Luna, I'm from the West, and I cannot thank you enough for your kindness."

Tilda laughed, "We played host to a company of dwarves, you are more than welcome."

Luna paused, "Thorin has been through here? Was Bilbo with them? Were they all alright?"

"You've been travelling with dwarves?" Bard asked warily.

"And a hobbit, though many call them halflings," she agreed.

Bard shook his head, "Strange times indeed."

"They were fine when the departed for the mountain. I think I have some clothes that should fit you," Tilda said. "My sister and brother will have dinner set by the time you change."

Luna nodded her thanks and not half an hour later, she found herself dry and eating a cooked meal.

"How did you get to Laketown?" Bard asked.

She smiled at him warmly and didn't give him a straight answer, "I have my ways."

She was exhausted and found no difficulties in falling asleep in a strange bed tucked in beside the two girls who shared a mattress only somewhat bigger than a single person bed.

Exhausted enough that she didn't realize that the day of her arrival was Durin's Day, but was reminded of this fact when they were all woken late into the night by the mad ringing of the alarm bell.

Cries went up around them, "Dragon!"

Smaug had been awoken.

oOo

Bilbo looked out into the night, watching Smaug soar toward Laketown.

He knew they should have waited for Luna.

And as the horror of what was about to befall the people of Dale, his one spot of positivity was knowing that Luna, even lost in Mirkwood, possibly recaptured by the elves, would be safe from the dragon.

oOo

Luna watched Bard take down the arrow from his ceiling, and she stopped him, "I'll distract him. I'll give you time for the shot."

"Distract him how?" Bard asked him, "You're just a girl-"

"I have ridden dragons before. I know dragons, but this one is ill. You only have one shot, you are just going to have to trust me."

"You're insane," he told her.

"And I'm also a friend of wizards. If you want to end Smaug and save your people, you're going to have to trust me."

Bard hesitated then nodded, "When legends come alive, I suppose."

"Where is your station?" she asked.

He pointed to a scaffolding tower with a bell.

She nodded and instructed, "Don't draw attention to yourself."

Then she scaled the buildings and dilapidated houses as easily as tree trunks. Taking in a deep breath, she bellowed out into the night sky atop the tallest building she could spot in front yet to the side of Bard's bell tower.

"Smaug the Mighty! I have words for you!"

She raised her hand and with all the power she had left in her from the Lands of Exile, she shot a thin flare of fire into the sky. She felt that almost all of that power was spent, soon she would not even be able to call a flicker of heat to her hands.

The drake spun in the air, no more plums of fire came as the dragon settled on the houses across from her.

If Smaug faced her completely and rose on his hind legs then he would be in position. But if he turned to far to the right, he would see the bowman.

But he didn't, his full attention centred on her.

"Who dares demand words from me!?" the dragon roared, though Luna could tell he was amused, a very old creature that had been bored too long.

"I am the little moon who addressed the dragon carved from the jewels of the night sky," she called back to him.

The dragon chuckled, breathing in deeply, taking in her scent, he said in turn, "Little elfling, too young to be wondering from your wood, are you not?"

"I am a Daughter of Exile as was the wind that brought me back East beyond the western sea, from beyond the far western shores of the Valar."

Smaug hasiatated, wings extending and contracting almost like butterfly wings before he asked, "What wind could travel so far?"

"A fair drake, starlight to your midnight, she brought me home as she sought out her own, so long ago lost to her."

He climbed closer to her, crushing houses beneath his claws and weight, his tail lashing out was accompanied by the sundering of wooden homes.

Only a few houses burned in the distance, the dragon likely wanting to play with its food like an overfed kitten still driven to hunt.

"You taunt me, little elfling!"

"My name is Luna Lovegood," she countered, not backing down in fear, though she was close enough that one breath of fire would, as Bilbo's contract warned, melt her bones.

"Luna," Smaug repeated, then drawled, "Luna ."

"Dragon friend am I," she said in riddle. "Who raised dragons from hatchling to elder, who rode on white wings as bright as moonlight, who released a drake, who released a friend. I am healer and moon, I offer peace, oh Great Smaug."

Smaug whipped his head back and forth, "Lost, lost a hatchling once. My mate, she was also starlight but faded, faded when man traveled too far north took what he should have not. Ran, ran beyond reach."

Luna's heart broke for him, "That's why darkness came?"

Why he had grown sick.

Dragons mated for life.

Smaug bowed his head, "Gold, the mountain, mine , it is all mine, I who lost what cannot be bought."

A hatchling.

"My friend, she took the name Ithilwen, like mine, it means moon."

The madness from those amber-serpentine gaze faded briefly, the sickness receding as he turned, arching his body up, wings thrown wide to look up at the silver moon above.

In that suspended moment Bard's arrow struck true, a shadow cutting through the night.

Swallowing a sob, Luna leapt over rooftops as Smaug collapsed into the riverways.

Smaug did not fight his fate and when Luna dropped to the boarded walkways on light feet near the dragon's head, he did not even attempt to harm her.

She did not hesitate to reach out to give comfort, running hands over the tightly grooved scales of his snout, tears in her eyes, "Oh Smaug, forgive me for my dissipation, I knew no other way to cure Dragon Sickness."

Smaug huffed out a warm breath, his great eye focusing on her, "No apologies, moonling, no cure exists. Cursed is the treasure of Erebor, cursed am I. Tell my hatchling, my Ithilwen, that we never willingly abandoned her."

Luna nodded, tears spilling down her cheeks, "I will."

Smaug sighed, gaze fleeting toward the starry sky, "It is enough to know. To have lived to know she returned home."

Luna watched the fire fade from his eye as she bowed her head and continued to cry for the great creature that came to such a ruinous end.

Around her, men cheered, their own loved ones spared from a fiery doom.

Chapter Text

Chapter 9 - The Treasure of Erebor

Bilbo was losing his mind with worry, both for Luna, and now Thorin, who grew ever more obsessive about finding the Arkenstone.

He was relieved as the others to see the dragon fall, but that relief was short lived when not days later Thorin pulled him aside to question the loyalty of his kinsmen.

Therefore, it was a relief unmatched when Luna, who appeared from nowhere, tapped on his shoulder.

He spun and upon seeing her fair face exclaimed, " Luna!"

She grinned down at him, her wild moon-blonde hair looking very clean, and her blue pants and baby-blue vest looking newer than the day he had first met her. The white undershirt was looking a bit worse for wear, but her boots, well, they looked like the muck and weeks of travel had been washed away.

He thanked all the powers that be that she brought with her a large sack of foods, mainly potatoes and salted-dry fish. He was most excited about the potatoes.

“Where have you been?” Bilbo demanded.

“I got lost in the woods and then I helped a bowman kill Smaug.”

“Excuse me?” he squeaked.

“I talked to it and Bard shot it with an arrow through its missing scale.”

The company spotted them, calling out in a wave of sound.

Bilbo whispered hurriedly to her, "I think Thorin is unwell."

Her smile fell but before she could answer, the rest of the company had joined them.

Even Thorin, who was pulled from his gold hunger, seemed more himself as they all celebrated that Luna was back with them.

A celebration that ended when a warning went up that they had guests at the gate.

Thorin argued with those below, refusing to give an inch, his greed and bloodlust clear in every word.

Bilbo was appalled by what he heard, and Luna was speechless as she watched the Dwarven King with wide blue eyes.

Bilbo tried to reason with him, "You made a promise to the people of Lake-town. Now is this treasure truly worth more than your honour? Our honour, Thorin. I was also there, I gave my word."

Thorin placed a warm hand on his shoulder and for a moment, Bilbo was hopeful as Thorin said, "For that, I'm grateful. It was nobly done. But the treasure in this Mountain does not belong to the people of Lake-town. This gold… is ours, and ours alone."

Dread filled Bilbo's gut, as he swore he almost heard Smaug's voice in the Dwarven King's voice and tone; "With my life I will not part with a single coin. Not one piece of it."

oOo

Luna was horrified.

The dragon had told her that the treasure of Erebor was cursed, but she hadn't believed that someone as true hearted as Thorin would fall prey to it.

She said nothing as watched the sickness eat away at their minds.

She had told the dragon that she knew of no other way to free someone from such a sickness.

The mere thought of her friend needing to be 'put down' made her physically ill, sorrow clouding her thoughts. She could feel the war coming, between dwarves and elves and possibly humans or whatever other evil would befall this place.

Thorin had forgotten his promise to help send her and Bilbo away once the dragon was defeated. Forgotten his promise to her to not purposely start a war.

Thorin didn't forget she existed, however.

She almost didn't notice the chest of gems he threw open to show her, "The White gems of Lasgalen. I know an Elf-lord who will pay a pretty price for these."

The gems looked like stars, like light of water, she reached out to touch them, finding them hard and cold, but her fingers felt out a thin silver chain, though the metal felt both lighter and stronger than silver, and set in the chain was a single circle cut gem. In it, she saw slight imperfections that the others did not have.

"They are yours."

"What?" she asked, startling as she turned to look at Thorin.

He took the necklace from her fingers and made to put it on her.

She pulled back her hair for him, as his large hands easily worked the tiny clasp, the weight of it settling on her neck like it always belonged there.

"The gems are yours, your piece of the treasure, you more than deserve it."

Luna's heart sank, she didn't want any treasure, save for Thorin being himself. But she thanked him anyway, a plan forming in her mind as she gazed back down at the gems.

oOo

Haldir was rather amused when two figures stepped into the tent.

The first he almost mistook as a child until he noted his feet and ears, a halfling who Gandalf heralded as "Bilbo Bagins!"

Elrond's sons greeted in unison the child behind him, "Luna!"

She smiled at them, her eyes of winter-sky and hair moonbright. She looked an instant like an elleth, beautiful and ethereal even among their kind. Even her voice was lyrical as she greeted, "Elrohir, Elledan, Gandalf." 

The image of happiness shattered when her gaze fell on the seated Thranduil, and something like disgust crossed her features.

He saw that her ears were rounding and Haldir realised that she was too young to be an elleth.

"Ah," Thranduil greeted, "If I'm not mistaken, this is the Halfling who stole the keys to my dungeons from under the nose of my guards."

Bilbo shook his head, straightening his shoulders, "You can't go to war with the dwarves."

"The choice is not up to us," Thrandruil said loftily.

"Hogwash," Luna snapped at the King.

Haldir smothered the impulse to smile as the King of Mirkwood rose to his feet to glare down at her.

Bilbo stopped whatever would have followed by revealing the package he had been carrying on the table.

The Arkenstone glowed with its light.

Thranduil breathed, "The Heart of the Mountain. The King's Jewel."

The human bowman who had felled the dragon, Bard, said, "And worth a king's ransom." Crossing his arms he looked at Bilbo. "How is this yours to give?"

Bilbo lifted his chin, "I took it as my fourteenth share of the treasure."

Bard asked, "Why would you do this? You owe us no loyalty."

Bilbo frowned at him, "I'm not doing it for you. I know that Dwarves can be obstinate and pigheaded and difficult. And suspicious and secretive with the worst manners you can possibly imagine, but they are also brave and kind and loyal to a fault. I've grown very fond of them, and I will save them if I can. But Thorin values this stone above all else. In exchange for its return, I believe he will give you what you were owed. There will be no need for war."

Haldir did smile at this, it was the kindest words he had ever heard of dwarves and he admired this halfling's love for his friends.

Thranduil shook his head, "Obstinate, you don't know them as I do. They will not bend for reason or threat."

Luna, the petite young woman who had dragged in behind herself a sack that smelled of fish and potatoes, threw said sack directly at the elven king.

Haldir could only gape as King Thandriul had just enough time to brace before the sack hit him and a sparkle of light came out the top of the sack as the king's legs hit his chair and he sat back hard and awkwardly.

The sparkle came from white gemstones.

Luna put her hands on her hips and said in an authoritative tone, "Those are mine to give. And I give them to you in the understanding that when morning comes you and your people will be gone from this place."

Thranduil held the sack awkwardly, looking up at her bewildered as he asked, "Why?"

Gandalf began to speak, but Luna held up a slight hand, silencing the wizard as she said, "Because Erebor is home of the dwarves and the treasure inside of it is meaningless, just as your purpose here, King Thranduil, is meaningless. No one should die for nothing."

Haldir was rather sure, in all the many ages he had seen pass, he had never met this girl's likeness.

Gandalf finally spoke, "There are other enemies—"

"More dwarves are coming, they can handle it," Luna said.

"No they can't."

She spun on the wizard, "Did you know about the entwives?"

Haldir felt his eyes go wide. The randomness of the topic raised every elf's interest who was present.

"The ents have long been searching for their entwives," Gandalf the Grey began.

"Well, I found them," Luna said. She turned back to the King, "And Legolas left to go get the ents so they could be united because I needed to help with Smaug."

Thranduil looked at her utterly bewildered, "My son–"

"Yes," she said sharply. "Your son, who is being useful , unlike you. So why don't you go take your shiny army home, and follow your son's example by doing something meaningful. Like getting rid of evil spiders, for instance."

Haldir had to bite his cheek, he was thousands of years old, but this was going to be one of his most treasured memories. One he imagined he would be just as eager to share with Lady Galadriel and her Lord as the twins would be for recounting this story to their father and sister.

Thranduil's gaze flicked to them and he seemed to remember that he had an audience for this.

"You dare to question–" he began drawing himself up.

"I dare to hope that you will leave now that you have nothing to fight for," Luna interrupted him. "Unless you would like to continue to illustrate to me how the wisdom of the elves is as inferior as that of men. "

Haldir flinched a bit at the venom in those words. He glanced at Bard, but he didn't seem upset with her. He seemed more suspicious of the elven king if anything.

"I feel like I have missed much," Gandalf said lightly into the heavy quiet.

Luna turned on her heel, Bilbo catching her hand as they made to leave without another word.

Haldir asked benignly, "What just happened?"

Gandalf, who had been briefly lost in thought, looked up sharply, "We can't let them leave—"

There was a pounding of hooves by their tent and Gandalf cut himself off as Elledan, the older twin, bowed his head, "She took my horse again, didn't she?"

"Again?" Haldir asked.

Elrohir's smile was downright gleeful as his brother sighed in defeat.

oOo

The next morning hailed a new dawn, and Luna felt gittier. The need to run was growing ever harder to withstand.

The elves had departed from Dale, but she worried over Gandalf's words.

War seemed to be in the wind, despite the brightness of the sun. She could almost hear it in the chatter between the crows that returned in greater numbers to the mountain.

Gandalf, Bard, Elrond’s twin sons, and another fair elf that didn't quite look like any of the others she had met thus far.

Bard called up to them as she, Bilbo, and the dwarves gathered above the barricade, "We've come to tell you payment of your debt has been offered and accepted."

Thorin sneered down at them, "What payment? I gave you nothing. You have nothing."

His sickness was growing worse.

Bard took out the Arkenstone from his coat and held it up, "We have this."

Kili exclaimed, "They have the Arkenstone. Thieves!”

“How came you by the heirloom of our house?” Dori demanded. “That stone belongs to the king!"

Bard replied, "The King may have it, with our good will." He put the Arkenstone back in his inner pocket. "But first he must honour his word."

Thorin roared, "They're taking us for fools. This is a ruse, and a filthy lie. The Arkenstone is in this Mountain, it is a trick!"

Bilbo stepped forward, "I-it's no trick. The stone is real. I gave it to them."

Thorin turned to face him and Luna had never seen such an ugly expression on any of the dwarves before that moment.

"You?" he asked in a low, dangerous voice.

Bilbo nodded, "I took it as my fourteenth share."

Thorin bared his blocky teeth, "You would steal from me?"

Bilbo shook his head, backpedaling a bit, "Steal from you? No, no. I may be a burglar, but I like to think I'm an honest one. I'm willing to let it stand against my claim."

Thorin snarled, "Against your claim?" before he chuckled, which unnerved Luna worse than anything. "Your claim? You have no claim over me, you miserable rat!"

Bilbo seemed to deflate, and Luna wondered if any of the dwarves understood just how much Bilbo valued their opinion of him.

 "I was going to give it to you. Many times I wanted to, but…"

Thorin asked sharply, "But what, thief ?"

"You are changed, Thorin. The Dwarf I met in Bag End would never have gone back on his word, would never have doubted the loyalty of his kin."

"Do not speak to me of loyalty." He motioned to the company, "Throw him from the rampart!"

Luna was as shocked as any of them.

"Did you hear me!" Thorin raved, and grabbed Kili who fought him.

"No!" he yelled.

"Fine, I'll do it myself!"

A roll of panic went through them and Fili and Bofur tried to hold Thorin back but he easily shrugged them off.

Luna stepped in front of the hobbit and said coolly, "I think not, King of Broken Promises."

Thorin looked at her angrily and the other dwarves stood by anxiously, "He's the thief."

" He is the only reason you got this far, Thorin."

"We returned to Erebor because it was meant to be, it was our birthright," he declared.

"So treasure is worth more to you than honour, than friendship, than family?" She gestured to Fili and Kili, "Worth more than your people ? Worth more than your sister's sons?"

"He is not one of us!" Thorin raged.

"Like hell he isn't!" she yelled back, "You said after the dragon was defeated you would send Bilbo and I home back to the Shire. You promised those men who you endangered by waking a fire-drake that you would give them some portion of the gold so they might rebuild their homes in Dale. You promised to keep Bilbo and I safe from Smaug himself. It is you who are the liar, an honourless fraud, a dwarf who may have a golden crown, but who is no true king."

"You know nothing!"

"I know war marches down on us," she roared back, her heart twisting, she never yelled at anyone but here she was, yelling at two kings in less than two days. "I sent the woodland elves away. I took your payment, that I never asked for, and I gave it to them so they wouldn't be the ones to hurt you. But they are not the only ones who will fall upon Erebor. Is the dwarf on the road more honourable than the dwarf who stands on a mountain of dragon treasure!?"

He blinked at her.

She stepped forward, grabbed his hand, put it to her throat where the necklace he had put on her still sat, and leaned herself over the edge of the barricade, "If you throw Bilbo over the rampart, you'll have to drop me first."

The other dwarves exclaimed.

Sanity returned in a rush to his face and he pulled his hand away from her throat and pulled her into a hug. His wide shoulders shook as he apologised over and over again. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

He looked up over her shoulder, "Bilbo, I'm sorry—"

Bilbo ran at them, hugging them both, and soon the entire company was in a massive bear hug, with Thorin, Bilbo, and Luna at their centre.

When they parted, Thorin called down to Bard, "I accept your terms."

Bard chucked the stone up the wall in what Luna thought was quite an impressive toss.

Thorin caught it, paused to admire it for a moment, before handing it to Luna, "You are right, little one, this stone, no more than this crown, is not what made or makes me a king."

She took it, and with the last dregs of her magic from Exile, she transfigured the stone into glass. The magic seeping away from her into the stone as it appeared to ice over, the flickering light inside of it going still.

And then, Luna dropped it.

All the dwarves' heads followed it as it fell and shattered at their feet in a million pieces.

There was another silence.

"Really, Lassie?" Balin asked.

Luna nodded, "It's cursed, no matter how pretty it is, curses are meant to be broken."

The company stared at her in bemused confusion.

Thorin, still shaking his head, said, "Speaking of which, let's break down this wall."

Not an hour later they heard a horn blow as Thorin's cousin joined them with an army, which was fortunate because not an hour after that, as Luna had feared, the battle began as goblins came like a black hord from the opposing hillcrest.

oOo

Haldir found himself instructed by both the wizard and Elrond's sons to protect Luna and the halfling when the barricade came down and battle broke out in the valley.

He directed the two small figures up the mountain and he shot down anything that tried to follow them.

"I don't think we were formally introduced," Luna said as they bunkered down on a ledge.

Haldir, keeping his attention split on anything trying to climb after them and frequently recounting his arrows as things indeed tried to follow them up.

He introduced himself, "Haldir, from Lothlórien."

"I'm Luna Lovegood, and this is Bilbo Baggins of Bag End," she said. "You're not like the other elves I've met. You… you seem more full of light."

He shot her a smile, "I'm a High Elf."

Bilbo was shaking at her side as he peered around the side of the ledge, "Are we winning?"

Haldir glanced down at the valley, "I believe so."

"Where are Elrohir and Elledan?" Luna asked.

"With Thorin Oakenshield."

"Oh good," Bilbo said, "Elves and dwarves working together, that will no doubt make Thorin happy."

Haldir couldn't tell if he was joking or not.

But Luna snorted with laughter which made Haldir smile, and despite their peril his heart sang at her nearness.

He knew that for his people, when an elf found their other half, that they would simply know , and in that moment he did. At her side, Haldir knew that this was his other half that he had been waiting all these long years for. The part of him that had sent him wandering through the world in hopes that he would find someone who would keep him from journeying across the sea.

In that moment, he was so blindingly happy that he nearly forgot that she was not an elf. That she was a Daughter of Man, and thus, she was mortal.

Nearly.

oOo

Luna was happy when Gandalf joined them on their stakeout.

"I bring more arrows, Haldir," the wizard said.

Luna and Bilbo cheered as Haldir took the quivers with a grateful nod then went back to sniping off bad guys.

She and Bilbo had been keeping a tally of Haldir's kills that pretty much equalled his arrows. Bilbo was counting heart and centre shots while Luna counted headshots.

Luna had a higher count despite some of the monsters having helmets.

Gandalf, who looked rather worn out, took out his pipe and settled in to watch the end of the battle.

It was over far sooner than Luna expected.

Haldir squinted, "The King and your company look safe," he told them. “As are Elrond's sons."

Gandalf breathed out a sigh of relief, "Good, Elrond is a good friend of mine, I would not wish upon him any more heartbreak."

A great cry went out from the valley from the dwarves, a cry of fear, as they pointed and raised weapons to the sky.

They all spun to see as a white dragon descended from the clouds.

Luna grabbed Haldir's hand before he could reach for an arrow, "No, wait she's my friend."

The elf who looked and felt so different to her, familiar in ways she could not describe, looked down at her with wide eyes, "She?"

Ithilwen landed on the side of the mountain beside them. She was a large dragon, but not as large as Smaug.

"Ithilwen!" Luna greeted, hugging her snout.

"I thought I told you to stay in the Shire," the dragon spoke for only the four of them to hear.

The onlookers below were still dispairing.

Gandalf had his staff up, his hat had fallen off on the downdraft from her wings.

"You said I needed to go East if I wanted answers," Luna said, pulling back to meet her opal gaze.

"And did you find those answers, Little Moon?" the dragon asked.

"Yes, and I discovered that Smaug was your father. That your egg was stolen by men from your parents and that's why Smaug came South. I'm sorry that happened to you Ithilwen, that you had to live in Exile, and that you never got to meet him. He asked me to tell you that he is very proud of you."

Ithilwen paused, then nuzzled Luna, "It is alright, Moon Child, this was how it was meant to be." She peered at Gandalf, "I defeated the evil in the North, and I will continue to protect it. Tell all to stay away from our territory."

Gandalf merely bowed his head.

Ithilwen lowered her gaze to look at Bilbo, "You're the troublesome one, but, I suppose, necessary."

Bilbo didn't move, just stared up at the dragon that was probably closer to him than even Smaug had gotten.

Finally, the white dragon turned on Haldir and breathed in his scent.

Haldir stood very still.

Ithilwen bared her teeth at him, "Take care of this one, she is the greatest treasure."

Haldir followed Gandalf's example and bowed.

Luna hugged the dragon again, "You stay safe and be happy."

Ithilwen laughed and nuzzled her back before pulling away for a final time, "Till we meet again, Child of the Moon."

With several beats of her large snow-white wings, she launched off the mountain back up towards the clouds.

Bilbo fainted and Luna dropped to her knees to catch him.

She smiled up at Gandalf, "Guess we end this journey as we began it, huh."

The wizard just shook his head.

oOo

It took many retellings for the story to stick that Luna had charmed the second dragon.

No one used the term dragonologist aside from the company, but trick one dragon to its death, charm or scare off a second, and suddenly she was known as the Dragon Expert.

Haldir believed Gandalf when he said that if it hadn't been for the dragon, Ithilwen, the dwarves would have been slaughtered by the second wave of dark forces from the North he saw coming. The single army of dwarves without the Woodland elves would not have been enough.

And yet, thanks to the actions of this one Daughter of Man, the tides of all their fates, perhaps the fate of Middle Earth had been completely altered.

It was Elrohir who spotted Haldir's heart when Luna was speaking with the hobbit.

"Bilbo, I was wondering, may I return home with you to the Shire?"

The halfling's expression was full of joy, as he exclaimed, "Of course! But I thought you were looking for your family in the East?"

She smiled at him, "I did find my family, on the road East."

Thorin laughed at that, and the dwarves, Fili and Kili, hugged Luna who grinned at the affection being shown to her.

Haldir had to look away as his heart ached to join the merriment where he very much doubted his welcome. He turned back to watch her laugh and let the image and sound wash over him one last time, before ducking out into the night.

He didn't get far before Elrond's sons caught up to him. He tried to ignore them as he readied his horse for the ride back to Lothlórien where he had too long been away from.

"The look in your eyes, Haldir, brings Luthurian to mind," Elrohir teased in elvish.

Haldir shook his head, not at all in the mood as he returned in his own tongue that he knew none of the men, dwarves, or halflings would understand, "She is a child, and I wouldn't take that choice from her."

Elledan returned in the same dialect, his mother's tongue, "Your heart sings for her, does it not? Could you not make her happy? She is young, true, but men age—"

"Yes," he cut in, "They age. Do you think that's what I want? To watch her fade from the world?" Haldir's heart was in his throat as mere thought twisted a dagger through his chest, "And if my sentiments were returned? She would know that I would die with her. How could I ask that of anyone? No, there is a reason why we have so many stories and songs of human and elvish pairings despite their rarity."

Elledan raised a dark brow at him in question.

Haldir mounted his horse, and before taking off into the night, he answered, "They all end in tragedy."

oOo

Epilogue

Luna lived in the far corner of Bree, closest to the Old Forest. She visited Bilbo often in the first few years, living a humble quiet life. She finally reached her maturity, that slight bit of visible ageing convincing a certain Gandalf the Grey that she was in fact just a rather special human.

Though Thorin himself rarely travelled so far West again, her adventures with Bilbo were not the last she saw of her dwarven company.

They, before the elves, before Gandalf, and before even the hobbits in the Shire, realised Luna was of Elvish birth. They accepted her whole-heartedly, her worst fears were put to rest, and King Thorin Oakenshield declared Luna Lovegood his favourite elf of all time. Though rumours of her heritage never quite reached back to the ears of elves themselves, seeing as the two peoples so rarely spoke to one another. To the dwarves, Luna being an elf was the least notable thing about her and often left it out of any narrative that included her.

This is not to say that had Gandalf been paying closer attention, he wouldn't have realised that the hobbits referring to the elven maid, Luna Lovegood, went beyond flattery of her fair beauty. Of course in this time, Gandalf did seem to miss a great deal as he attempted to keep track of the larger happenings of the world.

For instance, Gandalf did not notice Saruman's betrayal. However, this hardly can be blamed solely on Gandalf as no other who was accounted among the wise noticed the waning of old alliances. Saruman the White, whose heart fell to darkness, which led the Valar to seek to even the scales. And from the Lands of Exile, beyond the veil of Death, the Valar created from Light another Istari, an angel, an addition to Maiar.

Harry James Potter died in the Lands of Exile, peacefully in his sleep, surrounded by family on his hundred and eleventh birthday.

He awoke in Middle Earth, his body old as all Maiar vessels are, but not without strength. He looked exactly as he had when Luna had last seen him, with wild salt and pepper hair, and more smile lines than one could count.

He was known in the Shire as Harry the Black and Beardless.

She was there to greet him on the Shores of Lune, Hedwig had of course made sure she arrived on time at the correct location.

"Did you miss me?" Harry asked.

Luna proceeded to nearly hug the life back out of him.

From there, they set out in search of one adventure after the next. They began travelling all the Northernmost roads. Though the hobbits saw them less, and Gandalf would not meet them again until a certain council meeting, the pair became dear friends of Tom Bombidil, his wife Goldberry, Boern, the Ents and Entwives, and naturally, the dwarves.

Thorin became particularly close with Harry the Black.

Gandalf the Grey got it into his head that he was being jested with when he heard of Harry the Black, thinking there was no possible way for another wizard in the world, especially considering none of the elves ever met him.

Regardless of the elves and the other wizards' lack of awareness, Luna and Harry the Black were well beloved by almost all who met them.

Their adventures were many and the roads they took were long, and the love between friends was never forgotten.

oOo

Billy Boyd - "The Last Goodbye"

Many places I have been

Many sorrows I have seen

But I don't regret

Nor will I forget

All who took that road with me

oOo

To be continued...: The trilogy will be handled in four large pseudo-short stories in a similar style to this fic, featuring Harry The Black and Luna's adventures in Middle Earth. Until then I will leave it mark as complete, but I will post the sequel here, so be sure to favourite and follow. And please, please review if you enjoyed?

Chapter Text

Timeline: Harry appears around the time of Bilbo and Frodo's birthday, and there is a debated time of about twenty years that Gandalf is off running around, researching, and getting kidnapped by Sir Chrispher Lee. That's about how long Harry and Luna have been travelling together, mostly in the Northeast.

oOo

AN: Originally the plot of this story was really simple, then I remembered I moved the Ents… So this story got way more plot intensive than I expected that veers wildly from canon and yet will follow the style in which I wrote the Hobbit storyline.

Prologue

Among the many races and peoples of Middle Earth, it is safe to say no one expected that a Valar blessed dragon and the reunion of the entwives with their ents would alter all that which would have been.

For one, the White Dragon, the Blessed Dragon, the Dragon Who Befriended the Moon, Ithilwen united the great lizards of the North. Like the elves of Middle Earth, the drakes were equally weary of the world and their long lives. They did not flick so much as tail when evil began spawning in their mountains.

But Ithilwen's return had sparked a long dying ember in them. For she was something new, different; the promise of change. She was also proof that their makers had not forgotten them. When Ithilwen spread her wings to fly off to combat with the invaders in their lands, the others flew with her.

Such is the reason why the dwarves were so successful in reclaiming Erebor. The North, thus was known as Dragon Territory. It was a treaty of sorts with the remainder of Middle Earth that as long as the other races let them be, the dragons would stay within their own borders.

The Awakening of the ents greatly changed the landscape of Middle Earth. Leaving the Fangorn Forest behind, the ents resettled with their entwives in the Northeast. From north of the Forest River in Mirkwood, surrounding the kingdom of Erebor and reaching all the way East of the Iron Hills, a forest unlike any other was taking root. The Great Gardens were located at the edge of Mirkwood, allowing the shelter of the older trees to the first entlings to be born in an Age.

These changes were wonderful, for the elves especially, and worrying to the forces gathering in the South. The return of the entlings seemed to spark hope in elves, and for many who had planned to depart West, remained a little longer.

The world was changing; the darkness the elves had predicted was indeed rising, yet there was new life in the most unpredictable of places.

Dragons and ents were taking an active role in the world again.

Men remained weak.

The halflings remained in peace.

The dwarves, united under Thorin Oakenshield, King of Erebor, King Under the Mountain, had brought his people into a new golden age in the Northeast.

Never had the elves believed that the ents and dwarves could be such close allies. Neither had the ents for that matter, but the treaties between their peoples indicated to the elves that soon everything east of the Brown Lands and the Sea of Rhun would become a forested place.

Indeed, these were strange times with whispers of new life and the whispers of old evils returning to Middle Earth.

The barren places of their world were growing wild.

The Fellowship of Horses and Ponies

It was clear to Frodo that he was in over his head. The Black Riders were hunting them, their ponies were gone, and now they had to trust their fates to a stranger.

Despite his looking foul and feeling fair, and despite knowing this Strider fellow was Gandalf's friend, he was still a man. Frodo couldn't help wishing it was the Lady Luna and Harry the Black were with them instead.

Lady Luna had lived in Buckland near the Old Forest, she wouldn't have been tricked by Old Man Willow. Frodo was very fond of her, she had visited quite often when Bilbo had adopted him. The stories Bilbo and her would tell were quite fantastical indeed. She was considered odd by many, seeing as not many Big Folk lived that close to Hobbiton. But she was readily accepted by all, especially by Bilbo, Frodo, and Frodo's friends. Yet she often kept her own company. She was known best for raising the most beautiful horses and ponies.

Bilbo said they were descended from Beorn's herd and that Luna had an elven touch which was why they were such lovely creatures. The frequent visits from dwarves and hobbits dwindled as the years stretched ever on. Despite those years, Lady Luna never appeared to age.

Frodo did not know to worry for her until Lady Luna failed to make an appearance at Bilbo and Frodo's great birthday party.

Gandalf's visits to the Shire had also grown less frequent and the wizard had missed Luna's visits to Bag End so they hadn't seen each other in over five decades. It had taken Bilbo and Frodo a few years to realise that Gandalf mistook their remarks about how fair and youthful Lady Luna was to indicate her beauty.

There was no doubt that she was a beautiful woman, but Gandalf hadn't connected that their true meaning had been her elf-like-longevity. Bilbo and Frodo had hoped to surprise Gandalf at their birthday party where they were both sure to show.

Only Luna had not shown.

Frodo was quite worried until a week later, after Bilbo had departed for Rivendell and left his precious ring behind, Luna appeared with her old friend from the West, Harry the Black.

He appeared younger than Gandalf, with startling emerald eyes, glasses, and a bright smile marked by many smile lines, but he was–without a doubt–a wizard. He just had that feel about him and his staff, polished dark cherry wood with carvings of birds and dragons on it looked like it was much more than a fancy walking stick.

Considering he was a wizard, Harry and Luna had gone exploring Middle Earth, finally feeling safe to do so without worrying about her friends. Luna had even taken her herd back to Beorn.

Which brought Frodo back to his current issue, short two wizard friends and Luna who could be anywhere from Rivendell to Erebor.

Strider wasn't even able to find anyone willing to part with a pony, even some tired beast named Old Bill had taken flight when the Black Riders had come through Bree last night.

"Morning, Longshanks!" a man with a distasteful presence about him called to Strider. "Off early? Found some friends at last?"

Strider nodded, but did not answer.

Just then, it was as if someone had been listening to Frodo's prayers, because ahead of them on the road, a familiar voice rang out to them, "Frodo! Sam!"

Lady Luna skipped toward them, leaving Harry the Black and Beardless to try and restrain the herd of horses she had left behind.

Frodo looked in time to see Strider's bleak expression turn to surprised recognition.

"Estel!" Luna exclaimed, changing course from the hobbits toward the man.

Strider's expression broke into a wide smile that completely transformed him, he held out his arms and greeted with palpable warmth, " Luna."

He caught her in his arms and spun her and when they pulled back from each other they said in unison, "You're alive!"

Causing both to laugh.

Luna looked down at the four hobbits and held out her arms, they rushed her in a group hug. Luna had that effect on people, she made you feel joy no matter the trouble of the day.

She ruffled their hair, "Frodo, Sam, Merry, Pippin, look how you've all grown." She glanced back up at Strider, "You especially, Estel."

"Boy am I glad to see you, Mis'Luna," Sam said.

Frodo nodded in agreement.

"Why did you never return to Imedris?" Strider asked.

She merely shrugged, "I had my fill of elves after that journey."

The man who had seen all this after yelling at Strider called again, "Hey Longshanks, with a wife like that why ya always dredging through the gutters?"

Luna flipped her long hair over her shoulder and fixed the man with her strange blue-silver eyes.

The look was enough, the man fell out of his chair and scrambled back inside his little house.

That's when Harry joined them, leading behind him three beautiful large black and white horses and nine fearsome black horses who looked on the edge of bolting. The three normal horses stood to the side with no lead, merely following Harry while giving the other horses plenty of room.

Luna grinned, "Estel, this is my lifelong friend, Harry the Black-"

"And Beardless!" Merry, Pippin, and Sam chimed in together.

Harry took off his pointy hat and bowed to them.

Still grinning, Luna continued, "Harry, this is Estel. The young boy I met in Imedris after accidentally stealing Elledan's horse, Nhile."

"An honour to meet you, Estel," Harry said.

Strider bowed his head, "The honour is mine. You're a wizard?"

Harry nodded, tapping his staff on the ground, "I am and I'm new. I am, also, thankfully not famous."

"He quite enjoys it," Luna told them.

Harry sighed, "We left to give away horses, so naturally, Luna 'found' some more.”

Frodo stared at the beasts, frightening and feral.

Strider cocked his head, "Where did you get these?"

Luna scowled, "They were being ridden by Dementors and such creatures are not fit masters. I don't think these horses will ever let anyone ride them again."

"They look evil," Pippin piped up.

Luna shrugged, "They weren't born this way. They need healing." She looked at Strider, "Do you think your father would shelter them? I can't ask Beorn to watch them, it would break his heart."

Strider blinked at her, "You mean Lord Elrond? He may- how did you separate them from their riders? By dementors, you're referring to the wraiths?"

"They left the horses," Harry said with a smile. "And I left something for them in return."

"Are they enemies of yours?" Luna asked.

"Yes," Strider said, "I fear they are after our hobbits here."

"Good thing we have a third horse. Luna wanted to teach some of the hobbits how to ride," Harry said. "But it would seem there's no time for that now. Frodo and Sam can ride with Luna, she is hardly a weight at all. The other two can ride with us, Estel. The wraiths, as you call them, should be delayed for some time, and once they escape my trap they will be without mounts. If we take the main road we should reach Imladris safely enough."

"Why do you assume that's where we are going?" Strider asked.

Luna pointed at Frodo, "The letter Hedwig delivered, Frodo said that's where Bilbo is. Where else would you go?" she looked at Strider, "And it's your home."

His expression turned grim again, "We shouldn't wait here. If you think we can take the main road, then we best hurry."

Frodo found himself being hoisted onto one of the black and white horses whose whithers were taller than Strider was tall. There was no saddle, just a thick blanket. Sitting in front of Sam, Frodo looked behind himself once.

He caught the gaze of one of the black horses and thought that thing wanted to eat him. It amazed Frodo that the only thing holding the nine horses together was a rope looped around each of their necks and ended in a single strand that Luna held loosely in one hand with the reins.

Bilbo had always said Luna had a funny way about going about things, seemingly get out of all sorts of trouble while turning over new sorts of trouble that no one else could have possibly found.

The scary horses tamely trotting behind them was almost enough to make him believe that Luna had once hugged a dragon.

oOo

Luna was ecstatic to meet Estel again. But she couldn't shake the sense that something was wrong.

She exchanged a look with Harry and he pointed his chin slightly at Frodo. Which made her notice that Estel kept looking at Frodo too.

She knew better than to ask. If Frodo didn't volunteer the information there was a good reason for that. Frodo was a smart kid, though not very experienced, he had a good heart.

She had stopped visiting them as much though when she realized the shadows growing in Bilbo's eyes. She didn't like to watch her loved ones suffer nor did she enjoy the reminder of her immortality.

Even Thorin, who apparently wasn't young when they first met, the days were catching up on him.

Harry, thank the stars, was, in this realm, immortal as her even if he appeared old and she appeared as a woman in her twenties. Though that was certainly preferable to being seen as sixteen for eternity. It was having Harry back in her life that had allowed her to say goodbye to her home in the Shire.

Harry was understandably worried about her. He wanted her to reach out to the elves who would understand even better than he could. As Harry had put it, he had lived a fulfilled life, all the people he loved had moved on naturally and his descendants lived on, whereas Luna who had finally found people who she cared for and who cared for her were passing on while she remained young. It wasn't comparable to the life Harry had lived, because he had aged .

She wasn't, time seemed to move differently, and sometimes her memories were so terribly vivid… Harry said he still forgot things.

She didn't.

The problems were mounting up to the point that Harry had insisted they visit Imedris or return to Mirkwood.

Luna didn't hate her brother, Prince Legolas, and she knew he would greet her warmly if she opened that door between them. She knew it in her bones.

But she also knew that titles, royal titles for a kingdom that big of a people that old… no, she wanted no part of that. More precisely, she didn't want to deal with her birth-father.

King Thranduil was unpleasant, arrogant, greedy, and cold hearted.

She had had a perfectly good father, even if her human father had betrayed her by turning on Harry and siding with the Dark Lord.

She didn't think she could survive another disappointment, and that's what King Thranduil was; a disappointment.

Why else would her birth-mother have run away from him and sent her own daughter into the Lands of Exile?

She had little cause to return to Imladris, thinking that Estel would have been an old man, his still youthful appearance was a question she planned to ask him soon, and she hadn't been truly attached to the other elves there. Lord Elrond and his sons had been kind to her but they weren't her friends.

The only place he had managed to budge her at all was in Haldir who had kept her and Bilbo safe during the Attack of Erebor. She argued that going to Lothlorien was a dangerous idea considering they knew literally nothing about the High Elves but for what the dwarves told them.

None of that information had been particularly encouraging.

Still, Harry Potter was indeed as stubborn as a dwarf, and Luna had written a short letter to Haldir, enquiring how he had been over the years. She hadn't known what to share about herself as they had never been close friends nor was she going to reveal what was now a very tenuous secret about her race.

From what she had learned of elves over the years, elflings were precious, and so few in number that if they knew she was one of them, it wouldn't take them long to identify who her parents had been.

So she wrote, about her horses and Beorn's generosity. She wrote about some of the small but dear deeds and antics of her hobbit friends, and then ended with the news that her friend Harry had returned to her and that he was a true wizard.

She wasn't quite sure why that mattered so very much that she included Harry's identity, but she felt it was important. As much as she loved Harry, she knew he hadn't been reborn here solely because she wanted her best friend back.

No, she sensed that this world needed him. She was wise enough not to share these musings with Harry himself.

He probably already knew, but there would be something about talking about that would make it real and upset him. Harry wanted nothing more in life to be just himself, just a good person.

He would save the world if he had to, but he didn't want to be responsible for the lives of so many again.

"Luna," Harry called.

She looked up.

He frowned at her, "You're getting worse."

"I'm fine."

"You're not."

The hobbits and Estel were looking at her with concern.

It was Sam who asked, "What's wrong, Mis'Luna?"

"Nothing," she said, trying to keep the irritation out of her voice knowing it would upset the black stallions she was leading.

Estel though, was as perspective as he ever was, "You're elf-kin. It's been nearly seventy years. Outside of the elven kingdoms, the passage of time can be quite painful."

He was wrong, she was a hundred-seventy years old, and it had been for as long as her real mother, Pandora Lovegood had died.

Death was a constant reality, it was something she thought she had escaped in this new realm. But that hope just made it hurt worse, shadowed the happy moments as they stood clear in her mind as if it had happened only yesterday.

Luna hummed and returned lightly, "Is that your excuse? You look rather healthy for a man in his late eighties."

"I had an ancestor who was an elf," Estel answered.

Pippin turned round to look up at him, "You're an elf too?"

He shook his head, "No, I am mortal. Unlike Lord Elrond who is more elf than human, I don't have a choice. I am human."

Harry chuckled, "That's not how magic works."

Estel looked at him, "It's blood, not magic."

"Wrong," Harry said. "This world is rich with archaic magic. Your world did not evolve, it was made . From what I've learned, it matters a great deal what you believe, your choices have the expression of creation behind them. If you believe you will age, you will, if you believe you belong to the elves, you won't."

That was a jab at her, not Estel and she stuck her tongue out at him.

Her mother had been an elven queen, her father was an elven king, and given how relatively humble Lord Elrond was and how snobbish King Thranduil was, she doubted very much she could choose to start ageing.

Only her own stubbornness kept the illusion spell on her ears appearing rounded. However, they felt pointed if anyone tried to check for that.

"I doubt that," Estel said.

Harry smiled at him, "Which is why you age. It only takes a spark."

Just give the elves a chance. The dwarves accepted you despite your heritage. Perhaps the elves only appeared cold to you because they keep outsiders at a distance, Harry had encouraged you.

Luna asked Pippin how the season had gone and what trouble he had gotten into.

The rest of the day was filled by his happy chatter with Merry and Sam adding commentary. Frodo, like Estel and Luna, just listened.

Harry, having had so many kids and grandchildren of his own, encouraged the younglings. He did so that night and the next day, allowing Luna to hide from their long standing debate.

It was on the second day of travel she realized it wasn't because he had ceded defeat, but because they were going to Imedris.

Luna sighed internally, at least it would only be Lord Elrond and the twins. She thought she could evade their questions easily enough.

She would have been less hope keeping up the lie, even to herself, if it was her brother she was meeting again.

Her brother who had let her escape despite his father's wishes, her brother who had trusted her and run off, leaving the safety of his own woods behind to find the ents while she ran off to help dwarves.

Yeah, lying to Legolas would be a betrayal, evading interrogation from Lord Elrond, Elladan, and Elrohir was fair game because it was truly none of their business.

Luna held this logic close to her chest, as they ventured closer to the inevitable.

oOo

Haldir had never in his long life been delivered a letter by owl before. The bird itself was beautiful and seemed aware of her beauty, preening as he praised her while untying the missive from her leg.

He could have never guessed at the sender of such a letter though in all honesty had been hoping for any sign of her over the years.

Haldir's brothers, Rúmil and Orophin had long since given up on him in the decades following his return from Erebor. He had been lost, not in memory, but in sorrow, in dying hope.

Haldir had thought that the short time he had spent with Luna would not be enough to fall in love with her, a girl not even in her second decade, a child by human standards. Perhaps he hadn't fallen in love but the effect of parting was the same. She was his heart, and without her, the long years of his life crashed down on him.

Never did he think he would regret being born as he was, never had he wished to be anything else, but his heart was mortal and he was not.

He didn't want to go West, he wanted to be at her side, and she died, he wanted to die with her.

Foolish, overdramatic, impractical.

But he had searched for her, had waited for her, and to find her and to have her be unattainable…

His brothers had tried to persuade him that even if his love was mortal, he could still go to her, still make memories with her, but Haldir refused to invite such sorrow into her life. Because if she reciprocated his sentiments, then she would age when he did not…

The owl bit his finger.

Haldir pulled his hand away, letting out a hissed breath.

The owl was not impressed with him, observing him with reproachful amber eyes.

Shaking his head, he turned his attention away from his melancholy thoughts to the letter in his hand. His name was scrawled in the common language with a rather uncommon script that swirled together.

He opened the letter and found a full page of writing in that strange yet beautiful script. It took him a few moments to decipher some of the letters, but then was able to breeze through the text.

How have you been these last decades?

Haldir frowned, unsure who would be writing to him in the common language, all his relations were elves. The friends he had once had among men and dwarves were many centuries passed. Mithrandir, discounting that the wizard had never written to him before, would if he had done so in elvish.

It brought his mind back to his last dealings with men and dwarves… and hobbits.

He glanced down at the bottom lines: Sincerely Yours, Luna Lovegood.

His pulse jumped in his throat as he relooked over the words their meaning altered, their significance unending.

Luna wrote of her life, she had it seemed, remained in the Shire with Bilbo. Though he was surprised to learn that she was friends with one of the last shapeshifters in the Western part of Middle Earth and that Beorn Bear-touched, had entrusted her with any of his herd. Though after a moment's reflection, he should not have been surprised.

Luna exuded love and kindness to almost all living creatures, he had witnessed the girl hug a dragon.

He continued reading the letter and paused at her friend returning from the West, a wizard by the name Harry the Black. He knew of the Brown, the White, Mithrandir the Grey, and even the Blue wizards that had not been seen in an age, but he had never heard of Harry the Black.

Was it possible that Valar had created a new Istari?

Luna and the dragon, Ithilwen, were the only beings he met from the Lands of Exile, and here she had written that a wizard had also come to Middle Earth from there as well.

The whispers that Middle Earth was changing, for good and ill, were growing. Conflicting tales of evil from the south and from the north, the Ents and Entwives were raising gardens from the north of Mirkwood Realm to the base of the Lonely Mountain.

"Brother?"

Haldir startled, turning to look at Rúmil who stood in the doorway hesitantly.

Haldir took a breath, folding the letter carefully as he asked, "Yes, Rúmil?"

Rúmil frowned at him and the letter in his hand, "The Lady Galadriel has asked to speak with you."

Haldir rose, "Of course, lead the way."

For the first time in his life, he didn't want to answer this summons. He wanted to read between the lines and find in them a reason to depart.

To go find the other half of his soul.

Luna hadn't mentioned a lover or husband, only her friend, Harry the Black, who seemed more like a friend or brother by her description of him.

"Your thoughts are far away," Rúmil remarked as they walked.

Haldir couldn't quite bring himself to look at him as he said, "Luna wrote to me."

Rúmil halted, "I saw no messengers."

Haldir paused, turning to face him to say, "It was delivered by an owl."

"An owl?" Rúmil repeated.

"An owl," Haldir confirmed.

"What did she say?" Rúmil asked.

Haldir sighed, "About her life since we last met; her friends, the places she's travelled. And she asked me about how I have been in turn."

Rúmil got straight to the point, "Did she ask to see you? Did she marry?"

"No, she did not ask to me, nor could I say on the latter. Come, brother, we shouldn't keep our lady waiting."

"You should go to her."

"Rúmil-"

"No, Haldir, you have been miserable since you left her. She reached out to you, she went to the trouble of finding an owl to do so. If you do not go to her, you will regret it forever."

"He is right, Lord Haldir," their Lady said from behind him.

Haldir turned and bowed his head before meeting the far too perceptive gaze. Her smile was both the discussion and the conclusion.

"My Lady–" Haldir wasn't sure what he meant to say, yet Lady Galadriel spared him the need.

"Lord Elrond has summoned a Council, elves, dwarves, men, and even the halflings shall be represented. I wish for you to go in my sted, Lord Haldir."

He bowed, "Of course, my Lady."

There was no conflict left in his heart, even if it was to say goodbye, he would take this last opportunity to meet his heart.

oOo

AN: Posting this despite the writer's block and broken computer. Please, let me know your thoughts, feedback, horses, or shared nerdom love?

Chapter Text

WARNING : Ace is normal, every variant is normal with so much unacknowledged historical primary support that ace and ace romantic is, at least the scale of it, in my opinion, way more common than statistics show in the rainbow community. 

I’m using Tolkien’s Catholic ideals of no love without partnership as one of the ways to make elves different from humans. Having grown up with humans, Luna has experienced bullying for being what appears to be ace or demi. That bullying and internalised reactions are not my view of what should be one of the most normal ways of being.

Anyone who is mad at someone else for not wanting things they think they should want is a level of stupidity that I can’t even fully vocalize my disdain for.

Chapter 11 - Princess of Mirkwood

Haldir arrived in Imladris beneath the moonlight. He dismounted and walked his horse to the stables once he passed the border, loosening her girth, which he pushed at a tasking pace.

Though he wanted to meet Lady Luna as soon as possible, he didn't expect her to be in the stables when he arrived.

He heard her voice first, his breath catching in his throat as he strained to listen to her voice.

"You shouldn't bite the elves, they are only trying to help you heal," she said, her tone filled with compassion and slight amusement.

Haldir couldn't hear any effects of age in her voice, it made his heart race as dared hope.

Forcing his feet to move forward into the stable.

He first noticed the menace seeping off of a number of black horses he would never have expected to be housed in elvish stables.

Then his gaze fell to Lady who was wholly unaware of the hold she had over his heart. Her back was turned to him, moonlight captured in her hair.

Her words paused as she heard him enter, but she didn't turn to greet him. She continued to whisper to the horse that seemed more phantom than a mortal animal. But the horse bowed its head, ears flicking in her direction, listening, not striking out despite how tense it seemed.

Haldir, content to listen, brought his own dune mare into an empty stall, quietly untacking.

He had her brushed down, with water and food before Luna acknowledged that she wasn't alone.

When she turned his gaze on him, every assumption he had made, every excuse he had given himself for not seeking her out in the world, fell apart before her feet.

Age had stolen nothing from her, in fact, her beauty had grown and he felt as if he could weep.

She was elven, she had elven blood, and though that was no guarantee she would return his feelings or accept him, it meant he could go on, knowing the world would not turn without her.

"Haldir?" she asked.

He blinked, then bowed low to her, "Lady Luna, I'm honoured you remember me."

She smiled, "Of course I remember you. You received my owl then?"

He nodded, "The owl was—"

"My friend, Hedwig."

"Ah," he said, words failing him. His brothers had been right, and he wasted decades denying the possibility of her returned feelings as well as bracing for a final farewell that now he was left unmoored.

"Will you be at Lord Elrond's Council tomorrow?" she asked.

"Yes," he said.

She dipped into a curtsy, "Then I will see you tomorrow morning, Lord Haldir. Good night."

"Good night," he echoed awkwardly. And she swept away before he could say more.

Before he could refute being a lord.

oOo

The Council's tales of the Necromancer, Saruman's betrayal, and the long road the Ring had taken to be here were exhaustive but captivating. While many interrupted Gandalf, none interrupted Bilbo.

Lord Elrond stood, still annoyed by the words Gandalf had spoken in the Black Tongue and of the behaviour of those who argued over who would take the ring.

Elrond raised his voice, "There are two in our Council who have yet to speak."

All quieted at this, and every eye turned to the man whom the hobbits and dwarves had proclaimed a wizard.

Said 'wizard' smiled at them all, "What is it you would like to know? I am sorry to say, I know very little of the politics and history of your Middle Earth."

Gandalf, who no doubt had been eager to question the other man, asked, "Yet you claim to be a wizard?"

The man inclined his head, "I was born in the Lands of Exile, and upon my natural death, was reborn on the shores of this world. I do find it interesting that my arrival seems to match the time your Saruman the White fell from grace."

"And you claim to know magic?"

Harry the Black eased back in his seat, "Myself and my friend Luna were born in a world where humans had magic. When Luna came to Middle Earth, my own magic began to change. I become more powerful, a power that sings through this land in such a way that I understand why my world would be considered the Lands of Exile from these blessed lands."

Boromir huffed, "Surely, you can't think of us so blessed now that you've learned of this fowl evil?"

The would-be wizard raised his brows, and gestured to the ring, "This is not the first horcrux I have come across. I would venture to guess the Dark Lord of my youth was not as powerful as he was only human. Certainly, not as smart as he didn't put his soul shards in a nearly indestructible object nor was his curse able to corrupt so easily."

"What is your Council on the Ring?" Boromir asked.

"Destroy it," Harry the Black said simply. "There is no question, you must destroy it. It is evil in its making, in its purpose, and in its ability. I have seen what lesser versions of it can do. I have seen it turn friend against friend, turn good people into hopeless and angry shells of themselves. There is no other course we can take but to destroy it."

"And we should trust you, why?" Boromir asked.

"Because he is Harry the Black," Glóin said.

"And Beardless," Bilbo added with a fond smile.

"And what has he done for Middle Earth?" Glorfindel asked without hostility, only curiosity. "Of the Lady Luna I have heard, but not of you."

Glóin spoke once more, "He accompanied a party of my people to Moria, without him, our people would not have survived."

Glorfindel raised a brow, "How many orcs and goblins have the mountain sheltered?"

"Not as many as those who gather in Dol Guldur," Harry the Black said. "It was more the giant fire demon thing that was problematic. The good news is the enemy is scared of it too, however, I am afraid, the bad news is that it is an elemental too great to best. I think to kill it you may have to bring the mountain on top of it. Even then, no promises."

"A Balrog?" Gandalf asked, horror in his voice.

Glóin spoke, "That's what Thorin believed it to be."

Gandalf sighed, "Then the ring cannot pass through Moria."

"We still have not determined who will take the Ring," Haldir said, though he himself looked like he wanted no part of it.

Haldir was old enough to remember its history, as his parents had been killed in that war.

"I will take it," Frodo said. "Though I know not the way."

Lady Luna smiled, unsurprised, "And you shall not find your way alone."

Frodo turned to her, as if the mightiest of warriors had offered him aid, "You'll come with me?"

"Of course I will," she said with fondness.

"Who even are you?" Boromir asked.

"I am Luna, Dragonoligist of the West and friend to King Thorin Oakenshield."

"Yes, but what are you?" Boromir persisted. "I would have thought you an elf, but you aren't dressed like one, and you would be the first elf maid I've ever heard of who would name themselves in the same breath as a dwarf. The animosity between dwarves and elves is well known."

Her jaw tightened, but she did not answer him.

Gimli spoke, "I will go with Frodo and the Lady Luna."

"And I," Prince Legolas said.

"By either my life or death, I will protect you," Estel said to Frodo who flashed him a worried smile.

"As will I," Gandalf and Harry said in unison, the two exchanging an amused look.

"I shall go," Haldir said, his eyes only for the Lady.

"As will I but I would like to know what the maid can offer," Boromir said.

"Careful," Glóin warned. "Best not disrespect the Lady who was befriending dragons before ye were even born."

"So you are an elf?" Boromir insisted.

Elrond watched Estel catch Luna's gaze.

Harry spoke, raising her hand as if he would catch her hand in his, "Luna, you cannot keep your secrets forever. Too many here remember you."

She let out a harsh breath, "Fine. Yes, I'm an elf. That changes nothing."

Elrond frowned and he caught Gandalf's gaze, he had not been told that. The other elves present exchanged equally unsettled looks.

It was not their custom to allow maids to travel unchaperoned, much less with dwarves, much less with dwarves who planned to confront dragons.

She would also be the first elf Elrond had ever heard of to have been to the Land of Exiles.

"Were both your parents elves or merely an ancestor of yours?" Gandalf asked the delicate question.

Luna brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear, and it was as if some glamour fell away. She had been fair and lovely before, but some pretence, some taint of man that had veiled her, fell away from her in that breath. She shone like moonlight, the light in her eyes stolen starlight, and her beauty was that of the dusk to that of the beauty of dawn that belonged to the prince who sat beside her.

She looked so very much like Prince Legolas and Elrond wondered how he had not seen this before, hadn't spotted the pointed tips of her ears.

Estel did not look surprised, nor the dwarves, nor the hobbits.

Elrond realised that they had all seen her clearly while the rest of them had not. The Lord of Imladris nor Gandalf the Grey, it would appear by the wizard's wide eyes, were used to being the ones slow to see.

"My parents were elves, but I was raised by humans in the Lands of Exile," she said, her voice hard.

"Who were your people?" Glorfindal asked, his own voice hard.

No elven child should have been abandoned by their parents. In most cases, it was not even a possibility. Elven pregnancies were neither unplanned nor short affairs.

Luna sat back, her face a cold mask, and she pointed her chin toward the prince beside her, "Same as his."

"You're a wood-elf?" one of Legolas's companions squeaked.

Elrond frowned at the fear in his voice and the look on the Prince's face looked equally disturbed.

"Who were your parents?" Elrond asked.

Luna grimaced before sighing, then tilted her head again in Prince Legolas's direction, "Same as his."

Legolas turned to her fully, "Luna?"

She didn't look at him.

Slow horror crept into Elrond's heart at the implication, "King Thranduil of Mirkwood is your father?"

Luna glared at him, "Only by blood."

Every elf present went rigid.

Legolas raised a hand to his mouth in mute horror.

Elrond rose, "You are Princess of Mirkwood? Child of King Thranduil and Queen Êlúriel?"

And I let you travel with dwarves to face a dragon, he thought mortified.

Luna spoke with the pride of her forefathers, "I do not claim them as mine, Êlúriel gave me to the Lands of Exile and Thranduil has no love for me."

Elrond was horrified that she could think that but it wasn't Legolas who defended his father, no indeed, Legolas shut his eyes in mourning.

This did not inspire confidence.

Glorfindel spoke more gently than he had before, "If King Thranduil but knew of your existence, he would welcome you with open arms."

Glóin snorted a laugh.

"You think that's funny, dwarf?" Galdor asked sharply.

"Hilarious, in fact," the dwarf retorted.

Luna shook her head, her smile rye, "Oh, we've met, and Thranduil's welcome was a prison cell."

Legolas finally dropped his hand, turning to his sister, "Luna, I am so sorry-"

Luna shook her head, "It was not you who wronged me, Brother."

Glorfindel's voice was dark, "King Thranduil imprisoned his own daughter? Queen Êlúriel travelled pregnant and abandoned her child to the Lands of Exile?"

Luna inclined her head.

Another ripple went through the elves present.

"Is our mother alive?" Legolas asked.

Luna looked at him, her expression softening, "She lives."

Elrond was both sorrowed by this news and relieved. Thranduil had been tormented these long decades by his wife's disappearance and fate.

Of the fate of his unborn child.

"In the Lands of Exile?" Glorfindel asked.

"No, the Undying Lands," Luna said. "I had no wish to stay there as I passed through, I had no wish to stay with her."

"You did not feel its pull?" Elrond asked.

She shook her head, "I had been without home or kin for so long. I did not know who or what I was and all I knew of my birth mother was that she chose to give me away to a foreign world."

"When you met your father, did you not try to tell him this?" Elrond asked, trying to keep his anger toward the King from his voice.

This child had been through so much, and Thranduil should have been able to see through his own wife's spell.

Legolas answered, "She tried, but he was not willing to listen."

From the king's own son, those words were a damnation.

Every elf present save for the Mirkwood elves rose to their feet and began shouting over one another in their own tongue.

Elrond was trying to process the ramifications of this, so it took him longer than it should have to regain control of the situation.

The others all watched in fascination as the elves lost their famed calm.

Finally, Elrond raised his voice, and asked in elvish, " How old are you, Princess ?"

Luna shook her head, "Sorry, but I've only learned a bit elvish from Bilbo and Frodo."

Which set everyone off again.

Elrond raised his hand, "How old are you?"

He hoped that her age did not match the disappearance of Thranduil's wife.

But how could it be otherwise?

It would also explain Thranduil's recceeding from the happenings of a wider Middle Earth and his paranoia and why he had never given up on his wife.

Because he hadn't just lost his equal, his other half; he had lost a daughter.

"A hundred and seventy years old," Luna answered.

Elrond's voice lowered, "So eighty years ago when you went with the dwarves to the Lonely Mountain you were only ninety?"

She raised her chin, "Eighty-nine when I first passed these halls and ninety when I returned with Bilbo."

Every elf save for Elrond, Haldir, Legolas, and Luna herself began to exclaim, their voices raised in outrage.

Their non-elvish company looked on with wide eyes. Elves were not known for their anger.

Galdor finally said in elvish to the Princess, " You should not put yourself in such danger, you are a child."

Elrond winced.

Luna raised a brow.

Galdor glared at her waiting for an answer, until he remembered she didn't speak their language.

Another crime to add to the list that had been done to her.

Galdor repeated himself, "You cannot go with the Ring Bearer."

Luna smiled, "And what authority do you think you have over me?"

"You are a child."

She laughed, "I have never been a child in Middle Earth. My childhood died in Exhile, where my mother left me."

Elrond winced.

"It is too dangerous," Galdor insisted.

Luna crossed her arms, "Did you miss the part where I'm a dragonologist? I went with Thorin's company to the Lonely Mountain."

"This is different," Glorfindel said. "This is war and such horrors as you could never imagine."

Luna stood to her feet, and suddenly, Elrond saw that she was indeed her father's daughter. Her face was alight with fury and an air of regalness that not even Legolas had yet the talent for.

"I have seen war. I have seen my friends and innocents die."

Her words were heartbreaking because no elven child should have been exposed to such horrors. No elven couple had chosen to have children in the last two hundred years due to the growing darkness of these times and the threat of war.

Legolas had been the last.

Or so they had been led to believe.

An elfling born without her father and cast away by her mother.

It was criminal in a way that Elrond had not the words for.

Yet here they sat, the two youngest elves in existence whose mother had left them, left them both.

Whatever he thought of King Thranduil, it was not comparable to what he now knew of Mirkwood's lost queen.

"You have seen war," Galdor said. "But witnessing is not the same as-"

Luna rose to her feet with the grace of their people. She did not raise her voice, she did not need to.

"You know nothing. I have fought in war, and I have killed."

Galdor clearly hadn't expected that response, "You were protected."

"I was not. I endured capture, I was tortured and starved. I have been interrogated, but I never broke. I never betrayed my friends, and I know precisely the dangers that may befall us on this journey. I will not falter now."

Galdor looked pained but continued to attempt to protest, "Your father–"

Luna cut him off, "King Thranduil lost all rights as my kin, he has no say in my life. I do not–"

Oddly, Harry the Black who rose from his seat to protest. He towered over Luna though she was only a head shorter than him.

"No, Luna. You can turn away your father but not your people. You cannot judge a whole race based on a few."

"I think she can," Gimli said, amused at the chaos that Elrond's home had fallen into. 

Many of the elves in residence had been called by the raised elven voices, gathering in the halls that led to the Council's pavilion.

Luna shook her head, "I don't want–"

"You are dying, Luna!" the wizard shouted and everyone went still.

Luna's expression fell and her compassion softened her features, "I'm not, Harry. I am not dying."

"But you wish you were," Harry the Black said. "The years pass as they always have, moving on without you. Everyone you have ever loved is dead or dying. Not even the dwarves with their longevity can spare you from this dismal eternity."

"I have you," she said.

Harry's face softened but he did not relent, "Aye, and you always will, but I have lived my life, Luna. I have loved and I have died. In this life, I am more magic than man. 

“You cannot continue indefinitely as you have been; you must learn to be what you are before you can enjoy being who you are. The dwarves have known and loved you for a century, they will not turn on you for associating with your kin."

And wasn't that another damnation? This elven princess, the youngest elf in Middle Earth, cared more for the opinion and company of dwarves than her own kin?

"You cannot go on this quest," Galdor said stubbornly. "You are too young."

Luna gave the lord a haughty look of disdain.

Definitely Thranduil's daughter.

"How old would fourteen human years be for an elf?" Harry the Black asked suddenly.

Elrond hesitated, a flash of his children at such a fragile age flashing through his mind in a moment of clarity that nearly pulled him back through the ages.

Those years had been the best of his existence, the memories nearly as dear to him as his children were to him now.

Finally, he said, "Elven children grow, comparatively, faster than that of man, hobbit, or dwarf. We have greater language capabilities, but our childhoods are longer. An elven child at fourteen years of standard age would be very intelligent, but innocent. 

“Perhaps, among hobbits their behavioural differences could be excused, but among humans or dwarves? They would not be able to keep up with the small pettinesses that mimic the social structures of adults. 

“Men especially, as their lives are so comparatively short, have harsher behaviours for their future survival. For elves, the first hundred years of our lives are dictated by curiosity and wonder. Our people go to war, we have fights among our own, but it is not a given and we take care of our own."

Legolas spoke then, "They are cherished and loved."

Luna looked into his eyes and said airily, "I was hated. Even with the glamour Êlúriel placed on me, I could not pass for human."

Legolas looked broken, "I am sorrier than words have the ability to express."

She shook her head, "My childhood has passed, I must go. Middle Earth is my home, and I will fight for it."

"You are afraid," Galdor insisted.

Undeterred, she merely nodded her head, "Only a fool would not be. But I was friends with Bilbo before you knew his name, I did not see the Ring for the evil it was and I will not let Frodo face that burden without me."

"Or me!" Samwise, Frodo's dearest companion said coming out from the bushes.

Elrond found it hard to worry for the halflings, even as two more joined, slipping past the guards. Hard to worry when he felt shame for his people… and something else, something he had not expected.

He felt a renewed investment in Middle Earth.

A place two elfings had been denied the true glory of.

In these late years, the elves had been waning, more were lost, more set sailed, and then were born or made different in the world. Many elves had chosen to stay in Middle Earth to see the new generation of Ent and Entwives. But the elves had retreated from the world.

In a moment of grounding, brought Elrond found that to be unacceptable.

"So shall it be," Elrond said. "Twelve shall travel with the Ring Bearer. Three of Frodo's own people. Gimli son of Glóin as representative of the dwarves, Boromir son of Denethor and Aragorn son of Arathorn of men, Legolas and Luna of Mirkwood, Haldir of Lothlórien, and two wizards, Gandalf the Grey and Harry the Black."

"And Beardless," Meriadoc, Peregrin, and Bilbo said.

Frodo rolled his eyes.

Elrond continued, "Many dangers await you and there may come a fork in the road when a smaller number is needed. On the Ring bearer alone is any charge laid: neither to cast away the Ring, nor to deliver it to any servant of the Enemy nor indeed to let any handle it, save members of the Company and the Council, and only then in gravest need."

Frodo nodded.

Bilbo rose to his feet, "Ah, now best we all break for supper. Our stories have dragged til sunset and I imagine the elves will soon be engrossed in their own gossip. What with a long lost elven princess turning out to be a dragon rider."

Galdor frowned, "Those tales were exaggerated for your poems, surely."

Haldir sighed, "No, they were not. I saw her with her dragon."

Luna spared him a smile, dipped him a curtsy before dismissing herself.

Legolas rose, bowed to Elrond and followed after his sister.

Harry the Black sighed, taking off his glasses to wipe the lenses on his sleeve, his staff resting on his chest. "A word to the wise, whatever it is that disturbed you so greatly–" 

The young wizard put his rounded glasses back on before saying, "Address it among yourselves. She needs other elves, but she will have no patience for a culture she was excluded from."

Elrond sighed.

He was not looking forward to contacting Thranduil and Galadriel.

oOo

UPDATES: This one is slow. But What We Lost is fully back up.

When All the World's Against You has also been finished :D

oOo

AN: Thoughts, sea lions, or feedback, pretty please?

Chapter Text

KEYnote: Had a few people ask why the elves stayed or why there are more of them in Middle Earth and it's because of the Entwives who literally expanded the forests.

There is magic in the world and things many of the elves have never seen before. They sense change is coming and that their people can endure it.

Chapter 12 - The Gap of Rohan

Lord Elrond steeled himself as he closed his eyes and reached out to Galadriel and Celeborn.

Galadriel's presence skated along with his mind, "You are troubled."

He sighed, opening his eyes to see the Lady as if she stood before him in his halls.

"Can you reach Thrandrial?" he asked.

Her brows rose.

Celeborn shook his head, "He will not listen to any plea beyond his borders, Lord Elrond."

"We cannot speak without him, for it is the King of Mirkwood who must stand accused."

"Accused of what?" Celeborn asked.

But Galadriel had already closed her eyes, and minutes later, the King of the Green Wood stood in their midsts.

He held in himself the beauty of his forests, but the starlight was dimmer within his eyes than in either his son or daughter.

"Why have you called me?" Thranduil demanded.

Elrond spoke without delay, knowing the King would use any reason to break the connection between them.

"News of your wife has reached my halls. She resides among the living in the Undying Lands among the Valar."

The King's shoulders fell, "I…" He turned away from them, speechless in his grief, in the relief of knowing the other half of his heart was at peace.

They shared that now, Elrond's wife, Galadriel and Celeborn's only daughter, mother of his twins and Arwen, had too retreated to the Light of the Valar.

The king seemed to regain his height, he turned back to them, his heart of stone seemed to harden further, "How come you by this news? Has someone returned from the West?"

Elrond hoped it would shield him against what was to come, "Your daughter, King Thranduil, resides within my house this day."

King Thranduil crossed the space between them, proving that he was indeed tall enough to tower over Elrond. "You will send her back to me."

Elrond winced, taking a step back, "She has forsaken you, King Thranduil."

"Forsaken?" Galadriel echoed, her interest clearly peaked.

"You've met her," Elrond said before Thrandriul could threaten him once more.

"When?" the King asked through his teeth.

"Thorin's Company. She said that you imprisoned her with her comrades. She said she came to Middle Earth on the back of a firedrake, and that she travelled to the Lonely Mountain with dwarves and that she values their friendship more than her own place among our people." By the end of his statements, his voice had grown strident, accusatory, and it was Elrond who was stepping forward. "She is the youngest elf in Middle Earth, and she is afraid of her own people! She ashamed of us!"

King Thranduil had paled, and something like fear shone in his eyes.

Galadriel stepped forward to stand beside Elrond, her voice was deceptively calm, "Speak, King of Mirkwood who inherited the woodland that was once the Greenwood, known for its youth, not spiders."

Thranduil swallowed hard, "I did not know."

"You cannot refute it?" Celeborn asked, shocked. "Your own daughter?"

"I did not know!" Thranduil shouted. He looked away, his silver hair falling over his face, before repeating, almost to himself, "I did not know."

"How many young elves could there have been for you not to have noticed?" Celeborn asked. "She wouldn't be two hundred years old yet. Thorin's journey to the Lonely Mountain was many decades ago."

"She appeared human," Thranduil said softly.

"I believed so as well," Elrond admitted. "For I let her pass unhindered. Nor for that matter, did Gandalf the Grey. My adopted son noticed, for he is human and saw that she was not. The halflings saw it, the dwarves did not at first, but as the years passed, she remained youthful… and the glamour began to fade."

There was silence to this statement.

"She was born in the Undying Lands?" Thranduil asked.

Elrond winced again, "Perhaps born, but Luna Lovegood was raised in the Lands of Exile, among men. Hers… was not an easy life."

Thranduil closed his eyes and tipped his head back to gaze upon the stars of a realm that was not his own. "I will spend the rest of my days making amends to her. I will travel to Imladris myself."

Elrond shook his head, "She has joined your son, she rides out with the Fellowship of the Ring."

Thranduil turned and nearly spat at him, "She is a child."

"Perhaps, but she is a child that has seen war, war as men wage it, she has suffered and she has seen long years alone. She had no kin in the Lands of Exile. She knows not our tongue or our history. Yet she has travelled from the Shire to the Lonely Mountain, on her own , many times over these recent years. She is the friend of dragons, even tamed Smaug before he was slain."

"So you think I have no say over her fate?" Thranduil asked.

"I think it is lucky she accepts Legolas as her brother," Elrond countered. "Nowhere in Middle Earth is safe as long as the Ring prevails, if the Valar will it, Legolas shall return home to you with her at his side."

Galadriel shook her head, "She is the youngest, in a time where no elfling has resided among us."

Elrond ran a hand over his mouth, and all he could say was, "She is a friend of dragons, and a new Istari has come from the West. Harry the Black, who journeys with Luna wherever she goes. Haldir and Legolas journey with her also, and that, for now, must be enough until she accepts her place among us."

Galadriel nodded, "For now."

"Tell my son–" Thrandriul stopped himself. "Tell my son to stay safe."

oOo

"We must go south, to the Gap of Rohan," Boromir said.

Estel smoked on his pipe looking as though he would disagree but said nothing.

"We will try the mountain pass," Gandalf said.

"They won't survive the cold," Harry said, gesturing to the hobbits. "Nor can we go through the Gap of Rohan. North or south of that point will give our enemies enough time to catch up with us. Our only hope is speed and stealth. If you have allies in Rohan, then we can pass through as safely as we might anywhere else."

"I agree," Luna said, and to Gandalf's frown, added, "We travel to Mordor, there is no safe path. But the mountain cold is too much for the hobbits, and Moria is lost."

Gandalf sighed, "Strider?"

"I will follow whichever path the Ring Burier so chooses," Estel said.

Frodo bit his lip, looking at the two elves and dwarf, "What of you three?"

Haldir and Legolas exchanged a look, before Haldir answered, "The cold does not affect us, but I must concede to the wisdom of others for the capabilities of the halflings."

"The cold is no bother to me either," Gimili said. "But I wouldn't know how to keep the halflings safe. My father said they ended up going through the troll halls when last they passed over the mountains."

"We could carry them on our backs," Harry said. "I know Luna is capable of carrying such weight, though it would lessen how much food we could take."

Gandalf, Haldir, and Legolas looked rather perturbed by the idea of an elven maiden carrying another adult being on their back for a hike up a mountain peak.

"If we go south, we can ride horses," Luna said. "If stealth is not possible then speed we must take. My mare could easily bear Gamili and an elf. The rest of us can pair up with the hobbits."

Frodo nodded, "That seems like the best plan."

Gandalf sighed, "Then that is what we will do."

There was no joy in their departure, the elves were silent and watched Luna with mournful eyes.

They took eight horses.

Legolas and Gimli, Aragorn and Frodo, Boromir and Samwise, Gandalf and Pippin, Harry and Merry.

Two of the horses they rode in the elven way, without saddle or pack. The decision was made in the case that one of the horses fell ill or lame. With Luna and Haldir riding them, they would remain fresh but for the miles they crossed, miles which these elven horses were more than willing to embark on.

Three of the horses were Luna's, thus from Beorn's herd, beautiful as they were strong. The others were Elrond's, and the ones Haldir and Luna rode were descents of Elledan's prized stead, built for speed not burden.

The days passed with little note, the Ring Wraiths did not catch up with them, and they over the land too swiftly for any enemy to fall upon them. Most days were filled with the chatter of the hobbits, with the odd story from Harry who was far more willingly than Luna was to speak of the Lands of Exile.

Her quiet on the topic of her past life clearly disturbed her brother and Haldir, though she pretended not to notice. More concerning to her of course, was Frodo's growing paleness and frugalness with which he spoke. On a bad day, he was prone to speak not but a single word.

In fact, she did all she could to avoid discussion with the two other elves, something that earned her endless disappointed looks from Harry.

When Harry finally lost his patience, it was a night at which the four hobbits had fallen asleep on her.

"So, Prince Legolas," Harry began cheerfully. "Tell us about Mirkwood, I've only been through north to see the entwives, ents, and entlings, and Luna has truly only spent time in your dungeons."

Legolas and Haldir flinched.

Luna just glared at her friend, wholly unamused that she couldn't get away.

Legolas began a story about how the elves of Mirkwood came to be wild, and separate from the High Elves, of some of the misadventures their people became so widely known for.

Luna said nothing, made no move, as if she could not hear him.

Gimili, to his credit, made no ill remarks, though he chuckled at perhaps not the politest of moments.

Legolas did not speak after that night, and it was only then when Luna saw how increasingly depressed he was becoming at her coldness. While Legolas wasn't as talkative as Gimili or the hobbits, he was notably younger than Haldir, both in how he conducted his scouting and how he spoke to others, more prone to listening to the content than the tenor of someone's speech.

As Legolas's interest and curiosity of the places and people around him dimmed day by day, she accepted that it was her doing.

Haldir, his part seemed to hover more around Legolas, quietly spurring him to remain watchful and in the moment, as if he were a captain training a new recruit.

After another week, when Harry had begun to stop speaking to her, did she finally seek her brother out? She found him one early morning, when the stars still twinkled and the dawn was far from reach.

Sighing to herself, Luna sat down beside her older brother, where he sat taking the midnight watch.

"I'm sorry," she said softly.

Legolas shook his head, "You have nothing to apologize for."

"She was your mother too, she left us both." It was not fair of her to take that out on him.

But Legolas did not call her on her rudeness, "It should not have happened."

"She left because he refused to help the dwarves."

He turned toward her a bit sharply, "And he refused to help the dwarves because he was having a child, the last of an age. He would not risk our people, he would not risk not being able to see you born. Had our mother not run, had she told anyone of her intent, it would not have been allowed."

Luna sighed again, "If I had not been raised in the Lands of Exile, I would not have been who I am today. I would not have known Harry, or the dragons, nor met Bilbo and Thorin Oakenshield, and neither of us might have stumbled upon the entwives. This is how it was meant to be."

Legolas caught her gaze, "If that is how you feel, then why are you so ashamed to be an elf? Why are you so ashamed to be my sister?"

She turned her attention down into the valley cast in murky shadows, though nearly as clear beneath the silver of a moon as it would have been beneath the sun in her eyes.

When she answered, it was with her true heart, "I was very bad at being human, at being a witch. I have always been myself, but I don't know what it means to be an elf. I don't want to fail at that too, nor am I certain I want to learn what it means to be royal."

"Our father will love you, as I have come to love you. There is nothing you can do to make that untrue."

"He didn't love me when I was myself," she countered. "Thorin loved me before and after what I was became apparent."

"Father hates Thorin for the same reason he loves you, if not for his feud with the dwarves, our mother wouldn't have left and you would not have been lost to us."

Luna rounded her shoulders, "How can I trust a man like that?"

Legolas sighed, "Luna…"

"You think his actions are excusable?" she demanded.

"I don't think you realise how the years have passed for him. He is younger than Lord Elrond, but he is older than the One Ring. He has seen the rise and fall of dwarves of their own hands. And unlike our brighter cousins, we are more tightly tied to grief outside our realm, for border disputes have persisted across our history, with all the people of Middle Earth save the wizards. You've seen what dragon-sickness is, Thorin's grandfather went mad with greed and damned his own people. That was his doing and his family and people allowed it."

"That is not his people's fault," she protested.

"Perhaps," Legolas said. "But was it our people's duty to die for such greed? The Dwarves of Erebor established such wealth that they drew a drake from the North, and the Dwarves of Moria dug so deep to wake an elemental from the heart of creation. Even if the dwarves would have accepted our help, where do we draw the line. Do we dictate who has the right to rule? Who will be their next King or simply rule them ourselves? If a friend dwarves you claim to be, surely you know how that would end."

Luna winced, war, that would lead to war, they both knew it and she even knew for certain that Gimli and Thorin would conclude as much.

Still…

"They died on the road, as refugees," she said, repeating what Thorin had told her so long ago.

"Such tragedy plagued them for mere decades," Legolas said. "And they had kin to turn to, it was the dwarves' own doing that without the foundation of their gold and the Arkenstone that the dwarves scattered as a people and would not acknowledge a king. Thorin never needed the gem to prove his right to rule, you must know that as well."

As she had personally broken the stone, she had indeed known that.

He continued, "Decades are nothing to an elf as old as our father. Thrór was mad with greed, while our father retreated from the lands beyond our borders at your conception. Any claim on the treasure of Erebor he surrendered, knowing that for the next hundred years, he would care for nothing but you and our people."

"And when he thought I was dead?" she asked.

Legolas looked away from her, "I did not know our mother was with child, but when she left… I lost them both. He has never been the same since the Queen left, and the only reason he did not take his own life —let himself fade— was because he had no way to know where she had gone. He would not die without knowing, and he would not go West without her."

She took his hand, for she knew what it was to lose both her parents, the ones who she had loved and been loved by.

He wrapped his long fingers around her comparatively small hand, holding onto her as if she had offered him a line in a torrent.

"He knows now," she said more softly. "What will he do?"

Legolas looked into her eyes, "I do not know, but I suspect, nothing until he is able to make up for his trust passes against you. I do not know if he could forgive our mother, no matter how much he loves her still. Perhaps for leaving him, but not for giving you to the Land of Exile. There are no words in any language to describe such a crime."

"Will you forgive her?" Luna asked.

"No," Legolas said without hesitation. "I loved her once, and I thought she loved us, but even on my father's worst days, he would never be so unfeeling nor so cruel."

Luna thought that over, and the conclusion she came to?

That she was right to trust her brother, and that Harry was right in urging her to confide in him.

"Will you forgive her?" he asked after a time.

"For her compassion for the dwarves, yes. For everything else—" she squeezed his hand. "I will not forgive her for abandoning you either, you are as much her son as I am her daughter."

Legolas tugged on her hand —she allowed herself to be pulled into a hug— and she hugged him back even more tightly.

Only Harry knew how afraid she had grown, how the fear of the passing days, of how fast time and life spun on seemingly without her.

Years were as days to her, and memory as vivid as the rising sun setting fire to the clouds. So vivid that the present moment left her unbalanced or disturbed by the harsh contrast between a known event and an unknown future.

Thorin was reaching the end of his days, as was Bilbo, and she was afraid that she would blink and everyone she loved would be gone, leaving her with nothing but a memory.

As alone as she had ever been.

Harry was content with life, content with death, but Luna felt as if she had barely begun.

Knowing that it was a species thing, that she had no control over, just as she could not turn back the clock for her friends.

But short of murder, Legolas was someone like her who would not leave her.

From what he had told her of their father, she no longer knew what to think of him anymore.

However, even within her own mind, she did not fail to realize that she had been referring to King Thranduil as 'their father.'

oOo

Haldir felt a bit bad when he woke for the watch change and ended up listening to two of Mirkwood's royals finally speak their hearts.

He was relieved that neither seemed to forgive the runaway Queen who had injured her family so grievously. Whatever King Thranduil's faults, Legolas was right to set the blame at his mother.

Elves were seen as perfect, but they weren't. They were as flawed as humans, only slower to act on their shortcomings and more watchful of each other's actions while humans still struggled to merely make do in the world.

Haldir could only thank the Valar who had interceded somehow in bringing Luna back home.

Legolas held his little sister against his chest, cradling her as if she were the elfling she had never been allowed to be.

It broke Haldir to think that she had seen war, been made to kill, and had been tortured when she had been so innocent. By the time he had met her at the Battle of Erebor, she had been forced to mature beyond her years.

Yet that it all seemed to make her more compassionate, wise, and brave was both incredible and humbling.

Haldir was down the slope from them and scuffed his boot on a root.

Legolas opened his eyes, and without letting go of his sister, signalled to him in acknowledgement, before closing his eyes once more, his posture relaxing.

Haldir disappeared back into the line trees, taking over the watch so Legolas could enjoy the moment.

The Prince hadn't just lost a mother and a sister to this travesty, but his father and his own childhood as well.

Yet not a century after their meeting, Legolas and Luna had united the entwives and the ents, helped take Erebor back for the dwarves, and Luna, in particular, had made a treaty of sorts with the drakes of North who guarded their territory jealously. So jealously that when Sauron's forces had begun to spawn, their presence had been completely erased in the North, so much so that Moria was as far north as the enemy could hold.

By the Valar, the 'Rangers of the North' had begun patrolling south of the Shire for the lack of evil that haunted their territory.

It amazed Haldir that despite Sauron's imminent return to the realm, in some ways, with the drakes reproducing in the north, the ents expanding outward new gardens and sapling forests from Mirkwood to the Iron Hills, the dwarves uniting, the halflings protected in the Shire, the rangers of Arnor also prospering, and even the humans rebuilding in Dale, Middle Earth hadn't been this active since the First Age.

The true question was whether the elves would remain and rebuild their own havens, whether they would begin marrying and having children of their own?

For the world was turning, balancing over a precipice. Since the ents and the dragons, no elven boat had set sail to the Undying Lands.

It was Haldir's hope for his people that they would choose the happiness of this new age and not abandon it in the face of this next challenge.

For surely, if the halflings of the Shire could be roused from their gentle hills and march to scale, the elves could look beyond memory and revel in the mysteries this world had yet to reveal to them.

oOo

AN: Thoughts, tuataras, or feedback, pretty please?

Chapter Text

WARNING: Triggering warning, nothing happens but attempted and panic from being trapped by strangers with ill intent and flashback panic of being tortured. Nothing is explicit but panic attacks are an old friend of mine so I'm not sure how realistic it will come off.

KEYnote: I love Tolkien but born where he was… there is some iffiness that —as someone who studies colonialism— I'm not entirely comfy with. So you'll notice some changes, take it as a world shift that the Race of Men were all pushed further south as the dragons, ents, dwarves, hobbits, and even elves began holding on and reclaiming their homelands.

Chapter 13 - The War of Horses

When they passed the Gap of Rohan, they all learned why exactly Estel and Gandalf had hesitated in taking them in this direction. For while they had made unprecedented time only to run into arms of a full-scale war.

And suddenly, Luna was thrown back into hell.

Unlike in Erebor, there was nowhere to retreat, nowhere to hide.

Nor in the middle of this chaos, where the air was adorned with blood and the screams of men and equine, could she bring herself to flee even if she could have.

They were lucky enough to be on the side of Rohan, while the armies of orcs with white handprints over their mutated faces, blue-eyed grunts from the South clamped down on the Rohanin.

It was a slaughter.

That was until Harry wrested the earth from its slumber and the wind from its course. In the light of him, the earthen and elemental power of him, the orcs retreated back from which they had come.

It was a power that had never belonged to him in the Lands of Exile, at least in her memory, but it suited. The Valar had given him to Middle Earth, to help purge the disease of raw evil that spread like cancer throughout the land.

Dimly, she noticed the company, dimly she saw Estel and Harry lead a charge into the war.

Dimly, Legolas fell back to protect the hobbits as the men and wizards took to the battle.

She heard her name called, over and over again. But she merely leaned over the horse's mane and called to the wind in a wordless plea.

But as the war moved north, the ring of magic, the call to arms, and the enraged cries of the orcs were forced ruthlessly back when they had been on the cusp of victory before the wizards and the King of Men arrived.

She let out a wholly different cry, one for the horses who skittered across the blood sodden dirt, who lost their riders, who lost their way.

They wanted a direction, they wanted out, and Luna gave them that out. To her cry the horses answered. Those who had lost their masters dashed toward her. Soon a near stampede was running through the midline of the armies behind her. There were no orc horses, but there were from the South of the South, and some of their mounts who were not as valued as the steads of the Rohanin bucked their riders to follow her. She brought them east, to fields where the war was nothing but a distant burst of thunder.

She turned her horse, whose breathing was heavy but not so heavy to not make another run. She slapped a rump of one of the more dominant females, and the herd took off deeper into the fields.

Returning to the battlefield was her mistake.

Though she managed to gather another herd to herself, a few of the men from the south managed to keep their seats.

"Luna!" she heard Haldir call to her.

But he was too far away.

She was able to duck at the sword cut over her head, the mare beneath her stepping to the side, avoiding the second strike. However, the man reached out his free hand and grabbed her free flowing hair.

She grunted and she was pulled off her seat, only her strength and years of travel allowed her to land on her feet, and she began to run to keep from being trampled beneath or dragged by her hair. Luna didn't fight the man as he dragged her up onto the saddle, but once she was in his lap she went for the bastard's eyes.

In answer, he brought the hilt of his sword down in a blow to her temple, hard enough that she saw black and felt the not unfamiliar feel of blood spilling down the side of her face.

She must have lost time because the next thing she knew they were no longer in the heart of the herd but behind enemy lines.

There were hands on her as she struggled to right herself, to stand on the ground she was being pushed down.

It was only when one of the men pulled at her collar did she realised they didn't want to kill her.

Luna Lovegood had been tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange, as well as the Lestrange brothers, and MacNair, but their intent had been pain.

Not this.

Not this volition, something that she had never honestly thought about too deeply. After all, she had never craved any person, she had never fallen in love, never known attraction, and never seen the appeal of it.

So that these strangers, these monsters, warmongers, would even think to lay a hand on her, to look at her, was a violation; an outrage.

Luna had never felt hate as she felt it at that moment, had never known such pain on her mind, on her soul; on her very being. She would die before she allowed them to take that which she had no will to give.

Pain and humiliation she had been before born before and could have endured again.

But in this moment, she felt something in her snap and cut free from reality.

She rose from the earth with a strength that she did know she possessed. She wrenched her arm up, instinct guiding her hand around a hilt of one of the men's discarded swords and sliced the man who touched her collar from chest to throat.

She roared, her voice rising in fury, ending in a scream cut from the heart of her as if she herself were a dragon made elf.

She understood then, the vengeance of dragons, the rage they possessed toward the arrogance of man who would try to tame them and cage them.

How dare they?

How dare they!?

She spun in a sick mimicry of a dance, marked by death and scarlet. And when the garnet of their blood marked her, dirtied her skin, her hair, and stained her clothes, she became hate.

Hate that beat through her like the dwarven drums of war.

Hate like dragon fire to burn away the world.

Man had made her into this.

Man and their disgusting desires and their obsession with destruction and denomination until the thing they coveted was destroyed by their own hands. Destroyed from ignorance or spite, to pollute the world with their sickness.

She hated them, she hated them . She hated the elven traitor who had given her to them, hated the human mother who killed herself in the name of discovery, and hated the father who had betrayed her, in a vain attempt to protect her.

Xenophilius had been a coward, no better than any other human who picked away at her until she knew nothing but shame for loving the world that seemed committed to setting itself aflame.

Because men fought for only two reasons; greed or survival, and the latter only when they had no choice.

And she hated herself for the blood she spilt, for degrading herself like this, for their lives were less than swine. They came at her like demons, like orcs or trolls with just as much evil in their twisted minds.

She would have welcomed death, but if mankind had one fault outside of greed, it was pride.

To their eyes, she was but a girl, who had dared to set foot on the land they sought to conquer.

She hated them, and as they overwhelmed her, her anger overcame her further, she was suddenly back in the Malfoy Manor, back on the grounds of Hogwarts.

Hurting and killing against her will.

Again, she screamed.

Not for fear but in defiance.

If she could have breathed fire, she would have turned them all to ash.

oOo

Haldir had never been so afraid as the moment he watched a man grab Luna by her long hair. She was too far away from him as he spurred his horse forward, he was reluctant to dismount as Elledan's horses were among the swiftest he had ever encountered.

He had been amazed at how Luna had called to the horses and how they had flocked to her. If the dragons hadn't been enough of an indication she was gifted as the first elves who taught the trees to speak and befriended the first horses, this was certainly lore brought to life.

But she had moved too fast, and the war had come upon them too swiftly. They had been meant to ride behind the Rohan lines, only to be met with the unexpected siege from the South.

The company had scattered. Merry and Pippin had stayed with the wizards as the Black and the Gray road north against a force that they could not have been out ran, not if the earth's fastest horse could have been seated by the Ring Burier.

Still, Legolas had stayed with Frodo as Boromir had stayed with Samwise, in an attempt to weave through the chaos. Gimli and Estel had joined the fray. But from there, Haldir had lost track.

Luna had taken headlong into the battle, and fate seemed to keep Haldir from her side as he followed, blessedly to the undisputed fields east of the battle.

A blessing that was short lived as she purposely spooked the horses urging them further east as she turned back to the West, back toward war.

Haldir cursed as he fought against the tide of equine bodies to get to the princess's side.

Thranduil would be driven to an early grave when he realized that drakes were probably the least of his worries when it came to his children's safety.

Haldir had almost caught up to her when Luna inadvertently called not just the horses of the southern people to her, but their riders as well. What followed happened in the span of minutes though for Haldir they passed in agonizing decades.

Luna was pulled into a rider's lap, managing in a move that would do any elven warrior proud. She did not go like some village lass unaccustomed to the violence of the world but raised her hands to claw at her aggressor's eyes and throat, only for the man to strike her in the temple causing her to go momentarily limp.

Haldir would see him dead for laying so much as a thought on her.

Again, fate seemed to keep them apart as the group of men who captured Luna shot off toward the edge of the battle where the fighting had moved on for lack of room to stand that was not strewn with discarded bodies and weapons.

Haldir was forced to abandon his mount that would not run on the bodies, many still warm as death was slow to claim them.

Haldir did not have such reservations as he sprinted to the only being his heart had ever sung for.

He heard Luna's roar that ended in a shriek, it was a sound unlike any he had heard before and it pierced him through like a javelin. Within those last few passes between them, he knew that he would never forgive himself for not having been faster.

She did not fight like an elven warrior, she fought like a drake, like flame given steel. But the men outnumbered her ten to one.

She screamed again, and continued to scream, not from fear but from betrayal. Soul deep and broken, as if the spirit had bones that could be sundered.

It was a sound, a memory that would haunt his nightmares for years to come.

But the Valar had not deserted them completely, for Haldir finally caught up to them, and before they could take advantage of the elleth whose blade they had knocked aside, he relieved them quite graciously of their miserable heads.

The last of the men he pulled away from the princess and he stabbed him through the ribs, tossing them carelessly aside.

He was thankful when Luna's eyes registered him, and without reaching for her, she slammed into his side.

At which point her mount, who had followed her doggedly through the chaos came to them. Haldir wrapped an arm securely around her which was almost unneeded for how hard she clung to him. He was able to mount in a single bound, and he turned the horse northeast.

He did not care how furious she might become with him for breaking with the Fellowship.

He had seen elves —male and female alike— break from such happenings. She was too young and her past endurances did not necessarily make her stronger, it perhaps deepened the danger. The mind healed less cleanly than a bone left unset.

What infuriated Haldir further were the lies that had reached Lothlórien and Imladris. These men from the south were not foreigners, their blue eyes reflecting that these were men of Gondor who had deserted their people as the other races, particularly dwarves and ents, rose in number, forcing wanders to find other ambitions for expansion.

The answer to why southerners would join a war not their own was finally revealed; these were jealous and opportunistic deserters born in Middle Earth among a population where the men vastly outnumbered their women.

It was a fear elves and dwarves had always had about the race of men, who sometimes valued their women as a mere token resource, not as equals who were essential to their survival as their ability to erect shelter and cultivate food.

No, human women died at alarming rates, and rather than take greater care of their health and lessen their burdens, the men allowed them to fade, even at the cost of losing their young. It created imbalances like this, where men ran to war to take that which they could not protect.

It was among man's greatest faults, that they valued their sons more than their daughters, that they valued the ability to wage war more than the capability to preserve life.

Perhaps he was being uncharitable, but Haldir had a hard time remaining reasonable as Luna shook in his arms like a leaf born torn at by a winter wind.

He did not stop until they reached the Onodló River.

Luna did not sleep nor did she raise her face from where she pressed into his chest.

oOo

AN: Did you think I was going to follow the script like 98% of LOTR fics? I mean things proceed accordingly, but we're pulling a Witcher with our side quests :D I'll show you the wizard showdown next but then we are following the elves!

Thoughts, iguanas, or feedback, pretty please?

Chapter Text

KEYNOTE: These are not new chapters, but my dyslexic self has gone through and edited them. The added chapters are to give scenes better breathing room.

P.S. Elven languages, don’t at me, I was inspired by some fanon, some others fanfiction, and just wanted to make different elven groups distinct from each other. This story isn’t trying to be canon compliant. 

Chapter 14 - A Parting of Ways

Legolas was furious, "What have you done? What have you done!?"

Boromir's shoulders rounded, "I— I don't know."

"How can you not know?" Legolas pushed, knowing full well what evil had befallen but he was unsure what to do about it.

Legolas had many fine talents but his tracking capabilities were not equal to Estel or even some in the Mirkwood guard. Hours had passed and a storm was blowing in from the east.

Estel had given Frodo to Boromir, leaving the man with two halflings in his saddle. Legolas, who was more skilled in fighting and shooting on horseback, had played guard. He had trusted Haldir to catch up to Luna as they fled from the battle with the Ring Bearer.

But when they had stopped to water the horses, everything had gone wrong.

Or more wrong.

"Say it," Legolas said, voice dropping as he stepped into the man's space, this would be Steward of Gondor. "You have failed our mission, failed Middle Earth, do not compound your dishonour with cowardness."

Boromir looked up, tears in his eyes, "I…" he swallowed hard. "I would not have harmed him. But I reached for the Ring… It is a strange fate that we should suffer so much fear and doubt over so small a thing. Such a little thing."

Legolas was not an elf of violence, still, had he not been the crowned prince of his realm, he would have struck the man. "What did Frodo do?"

Tears spilled down Boromir's cheeks, as sanity returned to him, "He put on the ring and ran, I could not follow."

But Samwise had managed, knowing Frodo better than any of them. Legolas suspected they had or would cross the river. He was glad, at least, for Estel and Luna's wisdom in making Frodo and Samwise learn and remember the maps and general geographics when they were still safe in Imladris.

Legolas bore responsibility, he had gone scouting and he had been the one to trust Boromir.

He wasn't sure what else there was to say when he heard approaching hooves. He knocked an arrow but almost dropped his bow when he saw who was racing toward them.

"Luna!"

Haldir dismounted, setting his sister down on her feet. She was drenched in blood and Legolas couldn't tell how much was hers but it couldn’t possibly all be hers. He was nearly as scared to know how others' blood had gotten on her. Her eyes were open, however, and she was aware of her surroundings.

Legolas began to approach them and froze when she shrunk back from him.

Haldir nearly snarled, but at Boromir as Luna shrunk behind Haldir.

Legolas spun on the man, "Go."

"What?" the man asked, startled at the hostility being directed at him. "I would never—"

"As you would never threaten the halflings?" Legolas spat. "Go find Estel, you can explain to Gandalf the Grey —and your king— your actions."

Boromir shook his head, but backed away, going toward one of the still saddled horses. He rode off without bidding them farewell.

Luna stood shaking but didn't back away from him now that the human was gone.

"Luna?" he asked gently.

She looked up at him, her voice was hoarse, almost unrecognisable, "Legolas." Hesitatingly, she reached out to him.

Legolas wasted no time in going to her, but he was careful to make his movements deliberate.

She let go of Haldir and without looking up, she said, "I need it off."

He understood without more explanation, taking her hands in his, leading her toward the river, there was a shallow out curve that bit into an outcropping. Still he wished he could have afforded her more privacy but he knew being clean was more important.

He called to Haldir in his own tongue, " There is a change of clothes in the pack."

They had two horses. The one Luna had been riding was clearly tired, but its strength remained —Elledan to prize that line— and the other horse was one of Luna's, black and white with a thick mane. Hers were work horses, in winter, perhaps even war horses.

Legolas decided that the latter would be the horse she should ride. Disturbed as she was, her own horses would protect her, while Elladan's horse might be more prone to spook at the fear it sensed in her.

As they waded into the water, Luna's gaze went evermore distant. Legolas rubbed the blood off her hands first. Then her face, the slash at her temple, was already scabbed over. She sank deeper into the water, allowing him to wash the gore from her hands.

Legolas was glad that it was she who began taking off her clothes and that she allowed him to help. By the way the blood had splattered her underclothes, Legolas knew the worst had not happened, just as he knew that Luna had killed to protect herself.

She was a healer, a Speaker, and her hands were not meant to bear death upon the world.

Getting her boots off proved the most difficult of their tasks, he tossed them to the shore along with the other clothing.

Legolas bent his legs, sinking shoulder-deep in the water, allowing his sister to soak in the running water in his arms so she didn't have to fight the current.

He began singing to her softly, not wanting to call anyone to them but needing to do something more active than worrying over a threat that may or may not be approaching. An hour or more passed before Luna stirred, actively leaning into his arms. The water was not too cold for either of them, though that did not mean warmth did not bring comfort.

Legolas rested his cheek on top of her head.

"Is there something wrong with me?"

"No," he said automatically, then repeated himself when he realized he had spoken in elvish.

"I have never fallen in love," she said, pressing into his chest. "I've never desired to touch a person in such a way."

Legolas cursed internally, men being raised by elves happened, Estel was proof of that, but for an elfling to be raised by humans was near unheard of.

There was so much unknown to her about their people, and yet more she did not understand about herself.

"No, Luna, that is the way of elves."

"Then how do you and I exist?" she asked, clarity returning to her eyes that were not unlike their father's.

Not unlike his own, if a few shades paler blue.

It took him a moment to discern her meaning. He huffed and might have laughed if he wasn't wound so tight with the need to protect her. He laid a gentle kiss on her temple, "Elves wed for life, and it may be many centuries or even thousands of years until they find their love. For we marry only for love, and often only the other half of our souls. Sometimes, perhaps even often, that does not happen in this life but the next. Even then, the need for physical intimacy of that nature cools in time. There is nothing wrong to be unattached to anyone who is not your true love, and even then, it is not wholly abnormal to wed and never…" He searched for the Common Speech word for it.

"Consummate," he finished. "Oftentimes, just to be near each other, to take joy in each other's company, is more than enough to sustain them."

She stared at him, and he wished dearly to have known her better to understand her expression.

He wondered if she had felt anything for Haldir. When elfings were more numerous, elves would often fall in love before they reached their maturity, though it was not surprising when considering the decrease in their numbers that it wasn't until now had Haldir perhaps found his match.

Rebirth could only happen if there were actual births.

Legolas knew with little doubt that they were a match, for Luna would have never let him touch her when so freshly traumatised, or at least she wouldn't have clung to him when feeling threatened by Boromir.

He had also seen that Haldir was enamoured with her, which was obvious for all to see. But the Marsh Warden of Lothlórien was honourable, and Legolas had no fear he would push his sister before she was ready.

In fact, Legolas knew for a fact that Haldir would have waited forever, especially if she allowed him to remain by her side.

"Have you?" she asked him.

He shook his head, "No. I have never fallen in love, nor touched another. I have never felt want in that way."

Perhaps he had wished for love, but after seeing how broken his father had been after his wife's death, he was hesitant to even the dream of it aside.

Love would come, or it was not, there was plenty else in this world to rejoice in.

"Has Haldir?" she asked.

"No," Legolas said, not needing to ask. Haldir did not carry the same sorrow that those who waited for the rebirth of their fallen spouses. Between elves, it was not something possible to hide.

But that her next thought would be of the marchwarden, made Legolas hopeful that she would both recover from today's horror and harbour returning feelings for the high elf.

Atar, their father, wasn't going to be wholly pleased by this, especially, if it kept her from returning to Mirkwood.

No, he imagined their father wouldn't care for that at all.

Luna hugged him, suddenly and fiercely, "I wish we had never been separated."

He held her tight, "As do I, Nésa."

"What is brother?" she asked.

"Onóro. And atar is father in Quenya, in the Silvan speech. For we are the Silvan elves, the woodland elves, and we once called ourselves the Nondor, those who returned from the West and remained. Though Sindarin is still the primary language of this age."

But among the royal family, they still used Quenya.

She nodded then shivered a bit as the wind breathed across her wet hair.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

Again she nodded resting her head on his chest as he rose from the water. He whistled the tune of a morning jay.

One of his dried shirts was tossed to him by Haldir who kept his back turned to them. Luna seemed comforted by Haldir's consideration and stood solidly on her own two feet when Legolas set her down. Haldir had been keeping watch while tending to the horses when they had been in the river.

Legolas used the shirt as a towel, squeezing the water from her hair. He gave her the shirt to finish drying off as he unfolded the tightly bundled set of extra clothes. They weren't particularly fitting for a warrior or a princess, but they were dry and clean, smelling of horses and sweetgrass, not blood. The boots were still wet and he attached them to the saddle to dry, certain Luna wouldn't mind being barefoot.

Legolas, as a general rule, hadn't routinely begun wearing shoes until his hundred and fiftieth birthday. And indeed, Luna made no protest.

"Frodo and Samwise took the road ahead Mordor, though I know not precisely when nor where," he said to them both. "Without Estel, I have not the ability to track halflings."

Luna looked over the horizon, twilight had come and clouds had overtaken the stars. "We can't catch up to them, and perhaps this was as it was meant to be. Elrond predicted this would happen from the beginning, he said as much, in his way. The hobbits are brave, and their nobility far exceeds their station."

That much was certainly true.

Sadness encroached on him as he realized he wouldn't be able to deter her from rejoining Estel and the other wizards.

If the halflings could be brave, she could do no less.

Still, he had to try.

"Luna," he began carefully. "In order to get back to Isengard…"

But she shook her head, "I can't…"

Relief swamped him. He put a hand on her shoulder, "There is nothing to be asham-"

She stepped back from him, "It doesn't matter what I feel, what matters is that I don't trust myself to not be a burden."

Legolas wanted to argue, but he also didn't want to change her mind. "Where do you wish to go?"

She grimaced, "I've had my fill of men."

Legolas nodded, "The dwarves of Erebor march south to protect the river trade and Dale. Rohan and Gondar are also on the frontlines. However, we could go around Fangor Forest and cross the mountain back toward the Shire."

She didn't look enthused by that idea and what she said next surprised him, "I am not ready to return to Mirkwood."

His eyes widened a bit, "You would like to be among elves?"

She didn't answer immediately, and only after a few steadying breaths did she say, "Harry was right. I do not know how long I can watch the world die around me before I begin hoping to join it."

Legolas's heart seized at her words, she was too young, far too young to feel that way. Only the oldest of elves ever voiced such fatalism. The desire to flee West to the Undying Lands and the light of the Valar were common enough, but desiring true death was something else altogether.

Suddenly, the idea that Haldir might be her heart's song seemed right.

Luna was too young, but she knew greater hardship than many elves had ever managed to survive. Haldir in his wisdom, likely knew her better than Legolas could have, for he was, in the eyes of the First Born, young himself.

"Lothlórien is the closest to us," Haldir said gently.

Luna sighed but nodded her consent.

Legolas realized then how afraid she was, how lost. He began to speak only to be cut off again, "Then we leave—"

"No," she said flatly.

He raised a brow at her.

She swallowed, "I— I must go. Making you worry about, distracting Harry, putting my life above Merry and Pippin's… I have become a hindrance. I must go."

"You will not travel alone," Legolas stated. Over his dead body would he allow it.

"But all three of us don't have to go," she argued.

Legolas looked over her shoulder, meeting Haldir's gaze.

He saw stark fear there, fear of separation, fear that he would die in battle before he learned of her fate.

Legolas felt much the same, but although he already loved his sister greatly, she was not the other half of his soul. He could survive their parting, there was a real change that Haldir would not.

Still…

"Haldir is the better leader between us," Legolas said, King Thranduil would not forgive him for not even attempting to protest this.

Luna touched his arm, and he looked down into his sister's eyes that were too much like their father's.

Again, she was too young, she shouldn't know the king's grief.

"You are the better archer," she said. "And you are a dearer friend to Gimli. For my sake, Gimli will have your back and it will do both Mirkwood and dwarves of Erebor good to be on friendlier terms. Especially as the ents have inadvertently extended the Greenwood to the Iron Hills."

Legolas blinked at her.

Politics?

She was thinking about politics.

She had been forced to kill and nearly violated, and she was thinking about the inter nuances of dwarven and elvish politics?

Luna was entirely their father's daughter and every bit of her was an elven princess.

And just because he wanted to know what she would say, Legolas responded with, "If I die, those relations could worsen."

"If you die, Thranduil will blame Elrond and your sacrifice would be honoured in dwarven legends for centuries to come."

Haldir snorted.

Legolas touched her cheek, unable to hide a smile that softened his words, "It almost sounds like you would hope for the latter."

She laid her hand over the back of his, "No, Onóro, no. I would never wish for that, but for goodness to prevail, a thousand steps must be taken to counter a single kick of ill intent. Destruction will always be easier. Elrond chose you to travel with the Fellowship for a reason."

"Lord Elrond didn't choose me," he protested.

"He did, for you are a prince —and as I have come to understand— nearly as young as I am, yet no one protested your joining the quest. You are needed. I only wanted to help, and because I know I can no longer do that effectively, I will go. Haldir is from Lothlórien, he knows this region better than you do." She turned to look at the elf in question, "Don't you?"

Haldir nodded, and Legolas couldn't even attempt to refute the point. Haldir had seen an age pass, and Lothlórien had once been much larger than it was now.

Legolas pulled her into a hug, their time together had been too short. She hugged him hard and said in his ear as he bent down to hold her, "Do not die."

He pulled back with a laugh and laid a kiss on top of her head, "I would request the same, Nésa."

It was a bittersweet parting. His heart mourned their separation, but he also rejoiced that she would be riding toward safety, that their father would not lose her before he could know her.

In all honesty, Legolas would have followed them if it had been anyone but Haldir with her. Both because Haldir was a great warrior and because he knew the region, but most of all because Luna was his heart. For love of her, Haldir would have walked to the pits of Mordor without hesitation.

Legolas rode Elledan's horse, despite how hard the beast had worked today, if given a night of rest, he would make it to Isengard soon enough. Luna's horse bore the weight of two riders with ease.

They said their final goodbyes, but no sooner had Legolas turned back to the West did Luna call, "Legolas!"

He whipped around, coming back to them.

Cheeks flushed, Luna said a tad gruffly, "I have a magic owl. I will write to Thranduil, he will know within the week, or perhaps two, where we are and that I am safe."

Legolas laid a hand over his heart, " Hanta-idë ."

Thank you.

She offered him a half smile, "It was never my intent to hurt you."

He shook his head, "Some pains, bring healing and harken happiness." He glanced up at Haldir who remained silent through most of their exchange.

The marchwarden tipped his head in acknowledgement.

Legolas continued, "Find happiness, Nésa, yours is far overdue. There will always be suffering in the world, but life goes on, and joy is never as far from reach as we fear it to be."

The smile she offered him this time reached her eyes, "My heart rejoices that you are my onóro, Prince Legolas."

Legolas did not attempt to stem the tears that spilled from his eyes at her acceptance of him and all that he was; elf, prince, son of Thranduil, and her brother.

oOo

AN: Apologies for the false updates, I should be posting a new chapter when my health improves. If you’re still interested in this story, feedback really does help me get inspired as well as through some rough days. Thank you all who’ve stuck with me on this one!

Chapter Text

AN: I found the majority of this chapter scattered in pieces throughout my junk files, hazzah!

Chapter 15 - They Wait For You

Luna was tired. Tired in a way she could never remember being.

Her mind felt numb, her skin prickling with the odd sensation of awareness of it.

She had said she would never kill again, just as she had told herself that she could handle harm the world could throw at her.

It wasn’t pleasant to realise how wrong she was, to realise that such a proclamation was a child’s bluster.

Haldir, who sat behind her so she could sleep as they rode, said softly, “You are not weak.”

She let out a harsh breath, leaning back into him as if he was an anchor against the storm in her mind.

There was some notion, by the way that Haldir, Legolas, and Harry had managed her, that implied that Haldir was her soulmate.

Which, on the face of it, was ludicrous to her. Not because she didn’t believe in such things and perhaps even grander things, but because she didn’t think she would have one. 

She was always the odd one out, always alone. Even the people who loved her, were apart from her. How could she of all people have a soul match in another person?

And, if she were being truly honest, humans and elves were not the sort of beings she thought would have or respect sister and brother souls.

She had seen it in plenty of animals, but the elves that she met, her brother included, didn’t listen well to the magic in their blood.

Haldir made her feel inexplicably safe, but so did Legolas, and she doubted there was a soul deep connection between them.

Haldir stifled a chuckle.

She twisted to look up at him and demanded, “What is it?”

“Your pessimism is quite tangible. I promise that you will be welcome in Lothlorian. Our people may be few to greet you, or they may have already returned victorious from the skirmishes at our borders.”

“That’s not what I’m worrying about,” she lied. She was worried about how she would be received. She was pretty sure if another elf raised a hand against her that she would snap.

She would travel to the north and let Ithilwen dote on her as if she were a hatchling.

Would it be a guarded and restricted life? Yes.

But no one in Middle Earth would dare touch her again.

“Then what is it you fear?” Haldir asked, bemused, which made her cheeks flush a bit.

She really was a child to them all.

“My own foolishness.”

Haldir’s amusement fell and the horse beneath them skittered a bit but did not buck at his rider’s sudden change of tension.

“You are wiser than most, Luna Lovegood.”

She snorted, “No, I’m a child whistling in the dark.”

“You can hear, and you obey the magic at the heart of the world. You found the entwives, you befriended dragons, dwarves, and you have survived untold tragedies that would have broken almost any other elf.”

“Compared to you I am a child,” she said in turn.

Haldir slowed the horse, and Luna tensed, worrying that now she would finally see the man behind the elf. Someone who would comfort for his own gain. To make her feel weak so that she would depend on him more greatly.

His spoken words were nothing of the sort, “If I could turn back time, I would have remade the world to see you safe, to have you live the sort of childhood that is owed and promised to all elflings. Such time has passed, and yes, you are young, but this is to be celebrated. Returning to us, I promise you will be loved and cherished. You may not know our love as you should, but you are not too old for it.”

She bit her lip, hating that he knew that in complaining about being a child, she was also worrying about her inability to fit in with any other possible elflings.

Haldir spurred the horse on, allowing her to choose how much to share.

“What if I don’t fit in with the others?”

“The other high elves, or wood elves?” he asked.

She wasn’t sure she liked that response, but she clarified, “The other elflings.”

“There are none,” Haldir answered. “Your only peer in age is Legolas, and perhaps Elrond’s children who have only a few centuries on him.”

She winced, “It wasn’t always like that, was it?”

“No, I had a hundred peers at least, born within a hundred years of me, and that just among the high elves. But even at our height we were never as prosperous as dwarves, much less men or hobbits.”

“Legolas said—“ she cut herself off, not sure if pressed to the male, trapped together on a horse was where she wanted to ask this question.

But then, Haldir did not pressure her to continue, did not guide her as many had tried over years. Leading questions to see more in her what they wanted from her.

She had never been such a beauty at Hogwarts. But her eternal youth had subjected her to much unwanted attention. In Middle Earth it was less socially acceptable to be vulgar. Unlike in the wizarding world where women were magically equal to the male counterparts, here, women were often treated as damsels, things to be fretted over and guarded more jealously than actual children.

But Haldir wasn’t a man.

She swallowed, “Legolas said that elves only can love their soulmate.”

Haldir hummed, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

“Was he right?” She asked, heart fluttering at the thought she had been lied to.

“He is not,” Haldir said. “Though, many are taught so. I’m not even sure soulmate, in particular, the word mate, is the correct common word for it. 

“Younger elves do sometimes fall for those who are not their other half. Some even argue that those who fall for humans are abandoning their other half. But with so many elves living across the sea, and more besides never leaving their realms of birth, our other halves are not always meant to be. Historically, elves married according to bloodline.”

“You sound disdainful.”

“Politics do not belong between partners. Although, I have no nobility in me, so I may be biassed. But the act of marrying for politics was something born from times of war and I don’t believe that should be celebrated,” he said. “I believe such practices helped lead to our decline, to be pushed in the direction of duty to your family rather than your heart. 

“Today, hardly anyone marries. To find your One, as the dwarves call it, is cause enough for joy even if they choose not to share their lives together. Our leaders today are those of great deeds and greater wisdom. In the old days, they would have been considered nobility, excluding Lady Galadriel who proved herself in the beginning of our time in Middle Earth.”

“Including Thranduil?”

“Thranduil would have been considered most tolerable of the woodland elves for the light of Valar remains bright in him, but the woodland elves shelled all ties to noble houses long ago. The history of the woodland realm is quite different from the rest of us.”

“For better or worse?”

Haldir rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand where it was tangled in the horse's mane. Not to hold on, but for her own comfort.

“Both, perhaps. They are not tolerant of visitors. Despite their wild ways, almost none among them are half elves for they would sooner kill a man or woman then invite them to their haunts. But they do not stand on ceremony quite as the rest do. Thranduil's power comes from his military prowess rather than his birth. That is why Legolas is allowed the freedom to join the company as he will while Lord Elrond would not have allowed his sons or daughter to join the Fellowship.”

“Will I be treated differently in your home?”

“Yes, for you are royal, and despite being a woodland elf, have been through the light of Valar. There is none who would disrespect you. Not to mention the grandness of your deeds and adventures. You are the youngest elf of middle earth, and a princess. Your birth would have been celebrated around Middle Earth, as your existence will be celebrated. “

“Why not just have more children?”

“Many had feared the time of elves had passed, that we were waning in the world. Most who debate leaving for the West would never consider having children.”

“Had feared?” she questioned the past tense.

Haldir hesitated before saying, “You’ve changed much.”

“My existence?”

“The tragedies you’ve endured. The hobbits, the new wizard, the line of Durin returned to Erebor, the entwives and the dragons. For a long time, our people believed there was nothing more to learn about the world. Memory is more fond than future dreams and ambitions. Ambition brings with it many pitfalls of morality, greed, envy, and bloodshed. But nature either grows or decays. However, elves do not decay. So we must grow, rejoin the light, or fade away.”

Sometimes, Harry had told Luna once. Growing up means learning how to be broken. How to handle the worst the world has to offer and keep going. We are taught not to cry or show our pain. Our enemies take our vulnerability to harm or scorn us.

But sometimes, pain has purpose, sometimes tears and hurt teaches how to regain those pieces. Teach us who we are and what we value. There is strength in weakness, there is bravery in vulnerability. There comes a point where you must decide if you wish to survive or heal.

“I know that I befriended a dragon,” Luna said. “But truthfully, my actions were small in comparison with others.”

“There is a place for comparison,” Haldir answered. “And there is the reality of how the world shapes us and whose hearts we touch. Do not diminish how you are valued in fear of taking glory or sympathy away from another. To give to one soul does not necessitate the taking from another.”

She sighed, feeling again the unreality of her body, the small aches that were picking the scabs off of mental wounds that had never healed as they ought to have.

“I hurt,” she admitted. “And not my body.”

Haldir laid a gentle kiss on her temple and then leaned back so that he held more of her weight against him. She was not sure what boldness or measure of safety she felt just then that compelled her next action. She twisted, bringing one foot over to the other side, so she could more comfortably be held. Her thighs draped over one of his and she tucked herself against his chest.

She seldom longed for comfort of this sort but as soon as she settled, it was as if a switch had been thrown.

The buzzing in her head, the numbness in her skin, gave way to exhaustion, and she could not have lifted her head from the steady rhythm of his heartbeat if she had wanted.

“Sleep,” Haldir whispered as he wrapped an arm securely around her. “The trees of Lothlórien wait for you.”

She needed no more convincing as she was taken by a river of dreams too long held at bay.

oOo

AN: Happy Haldir! Thoughts, gargoyle geckos, or feedback, pretty please?