Chapter 14
It was a fast and smooth ride to the looming tree barrier of Mirkwood. The wind rushed past them, the rhythmic thudding of hooves on the earth creating a steady beat that seemed to mirror the urgency of their journey. The ponies, swift and sure-footed, carried them effortlessly across the vast plains, and before long, the dark, dense forest of Mirkwood appeared on the horizon.
Gandalf rode at the front, his grey robes flowing behind him as his keen eyes scanned the path ahead. Behind him, the company of dwarves followed in single file, their expressions tense but determined. Harry and Bilbo, riding side by side, took up the rear. Harry couldn’t help but glance at Bilbo from time to time, the weight of their shared experiences bonding them more deeply than ever before. Bilbo’s eyes, wide and cautious, flicked from the road ahead to the ominous treeline that loomed closer with each passing moment.
As they approached the forest's edge, the thick, tangled branches of Mirkwood stretched out like twisted fingers, casting long shadows over the ground. The very air seemed to change, growing heavier, as if the forest itself was alive, watching them approach.
Gandalf slowed his horse and turned back to face the group; his expression more serious than usual. “Before we continue,” he said, his voice low and measured, “I must remind you that I will be leaving once we reach the forest’s edge. There are other matters that demand my attention, and I cannot travel through Mirkwood with you.”
Harry’s heart sank slightly at the thought of Gandalf leaving them. While he had known this was coming, the reality of it struck him harder now that they stood so close to the edge of the dark and foreboding forest. Bilbo looked uneasy as well, his hand tightening on the reins of his pony.
“Where are you going, Gandalf?” Bilbo asked, concern flickering in his eyes.
“There are dark forces stirring in the lands beyond this forest,” Gandalf explained. “I must investigate the Necromancer further and ensure that his influence does not spread. I fear he may be more than what he appears.”
Harry exchanged a glance with Bilbo, his stomach twisting with unease. The name of the Necromancer sent a chill down his spine. He didn’t like the idea of Gandalf going off alone to face something so dangerous, but he also knew there was no stopping the wizard once his mind was set.
“You’re leaving us to face this forest alone?” Thorin grumbled from his place in the line, his brows furrowing deeply.
Gandalf turned to face Thorin, his expression resolute. “I have every faith that you will manage the journey through Mirkwood. But heed my warning: do not stray from the path, no matter what you may see or hear. The forest is treacherous, and its magic is not to be underestimated.”
Harry nodded, though the ominous warning did little to ease the tension in his chest. He felt the forest’s energy, dark and ancient, pulsing just beyond the barrier of trees. Sleepers Forest had been his domain, a place where he had control, but Mirkwood... Mirkwood was different. It felt alive in a way that was both intriguing and unsettling.
Bilbo shifted in his saddle, trying to find words. “Will we see you again soon?”
Gandalf smiled softly, though there was a weariness in his eyes. “I will find you again, Bilbo, when the time is right. But for now, you must rely on your own strength, and the strength of your friends.”
With that, Gandalf dismounted and led his horse over to Harry and Bilbo. He placed a hand on both of their shoulders, his touch comforting despite the weight of what was to come. “Be safe,” he said quietly, his voice carrying a warmth that soothed some of the unease in Harry’s chest. “Trust in yourselves and in each other.”
Harry met Gandalf’s gaze, feeling the silent understanding between them. He wasn’t sure what lay ahead, but with Bilbo beside him and the company around him, he felt just a little more prepared to face it.
With a final nod, Gandalf turned and mounted his horse again. “I will be watching, even if I am not there in person. Remember, stick to the path!”
And with that, the wizard spurred his horse forward, galloping off into the distance, leaving the company at the threshold of Mirkwood. As they watched him disappear into the horizon, the weight of the journey ahead settled over them like a shroud. The trees of Mirkwood loomed before them, dark and silent, waiting to swallow them whole.
Harry took a deep breath and turned to Bilbo, who was staring at the forest with wide eyes. “Ready?” Harry asked, though the question seemed more for himself than Bilbo.
Bilbo nodded; his voice quiet but determined. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
Harry took a deep breath, feeling the oppressive air of Mirkwood pressing down on him as they dismounted from their horses and ponies. The animals snorted softly, as if they, too, could sense the foreboding energy coming from the forest. One by one, the ponies turned and trotted back toward Beorn’s lands, their departure almost eerie in its quietness.
For a moment, Harry simply stood there, staring at the dark, twisted trees ahead of them. The dense canopy above seemed to block out any trace of sunlight, casting the forest in a perpetual twilight. The memory of another forest stirred in his mind, the Forbidden Forest from his youth at Hogwarts. There had been something similarly ancient and untamed about that place, though Mirkwood felt more suffocating, as if the very air was thick with magic and menace.
A sudden pat on his leg startled him, pulling him out of his thoughts. He looked down to see Bilbo standing beside him, his face creased with worry. The hobbit’s hand rested gently on his leg, a gesture of reassurance. Despite Bilbo’s wide eyes and clear nervousness, there was something comforting about his presence. It was as if, no matter what dangers awaited them, Bilbo’s unwavering loyalty could provide some sense of normalcy.
Harry smiled softly, feeling the tension in his chest loosen just a little. He nodded, acknowledging both Bilbo’s concern and his own readiness, or at least, the determination he had to press forward.
As they stepped onto the winding path of Mirkwood, the dense trees loomed overhead, their twisted branches forming a tangled web that blocked out much of the remaining light. Shadows danced on the ground as they walked, and the atmosphere felt thick with unspoken secrets. In an effort to ease the tension, they began to engage in random bits of conversation.
Bilbo turned to Harry, a nervous glint in his eyes. “Can I call you, my Bairn?” he asked hesitantly.
Harry turned to him, a look of confusion crossing his face. “What does that mean?”
“It’s what hobbits call their older children,” Bilbo explained, a hint of shyness in his voice.
Harry stared at Bilbo, shock flooding through him at the sudden wave of affection behind the request. For a moment, he was speechless, trying to wrap his mind around the idea of being considered family in such a profound way. The warmth of their bond swelled in his chest, and he could feel tears prickling at the corners of his eyes.
Bilbo, sensing Harry’s hesitation, began to backtrack. “Oh, I didn’t mean to, if you don’t want to, that’s perfectly fine! I understand if it feels…”
“No!” Harry cried, his voice trembling slightly. “Yes! I’d like that. I really would.” The words tumbled out, the truth of them flowing from his heart. He felt a wave of relief wash over him, and the unexpected comfort of being called something so endearing soothed the edges of his anxiety.
Bilbo’s face lit up with a mixture of surprise and joy, and he beamed at Harry. “Well then, my Bairn, it’s settled! We’ll face whatever comes our way together, like family.”
Feeling a surge of affection for Bilbo, Harry couldn’t help but grin. “I like the sound of that,” he replied, the warmth of their connection bolstering his spirits as they continued on their path through the eerie depths of Mirkwood.
“What’s going on with you two?” Dwalin asked Thorin, his curiosity piqued.
“Bilbo asked if I could be his kid, and I said yes,” Harry responded happily, his face lighting up. Dwalin smirked at the playful exchange, while Thorin turned beet red with embarrassment.
“Oh, earlier Bilbo complained about his hair length. Can one of you braid it?” Harry chimed in, glancing over at Bilbo, who looked intrigued by the dwarves.
Dwalin grinned mischievously. “Sure. Thorin can do it.”
Thorin’s face flushed even deeper, almost as if smoke might escape from his ears. He nodded silently and stepped away, clearly flustered by the suggestion. Harry couldn’t help but chuckle at Thorin’s reaction, the tension in the air dissipating slightly as they walked deeper into the shadowy woods.
“Are you sure you want to trust Thorin with your hair, Bilbo?” Harry teased, glancing back at the dwarf’s retreating figure.
Bilbo laughed softly, the sound a comforting melody amidst the whispers of the trees. “I suppose it could be an adventure in itself!” He shot a knowing glance at Thorin, who was already pulling at his hair as if contemplating the daunting task ahead.
As they pressed on, the dense foliage closed in around them, and the light grew dimmer. Harry felt the familiar stirrings of anxiety, but he tried to shake them off. With Bilbo beside him, he felt a little more anchored.
“Just keep talking to me, alright?” Harry urged, glancing sideways at Bilbo. “I want to hear everything about the Shire.”
Bilbo’s eyes sparkled with the invitation. “Well, there’s always a tale about the infamous ‘Mad Baggins’ of Hobbiton…”
As Bilbo recounted tales of the Shire, Harry listened intently, savouring the warmth of their bond amidst the encroaching shadows of Mirkwood. The vibrant images painted by Bilbo’s words seemed to push back against the darkness surrounding them, infusing Harry with a sense of hope and determination.
But suddenly, the peaceful atmosphere shattered when Nori let out a panicked scream. “The path is gone!”
Chaos erupted as the dwarves argued amongst themselves, their voices rising in a cacophony of frustration and fear. Bilbo turned to Harry, his expression resolute. “I’m going to climb up to see where the sun is,” he said, determination lacing his words.
Harry nodded, sinking down to sit beneath the branches where Bilbo began to ascend. He could feel the tension in the air as the dwarves continued their heated debate, their voices a murmur against the rustling leaves. But then, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something moving in the shadows.
An acromantula.
His heart raced as he recognized the creature, memories flooding back from his previous encounter with them. He had faced these monstrous spiders before, and the recollection of their speed and ferocity sent a chill down his spine. But he couldn’t let fear consume him. They were fast, but he was faster.
Drawing on his magic, Harry felt a surge of energy course through him. He focused intently, weaving a spell with precision and intent. The air around him crackled as he unleashed a wave of magic, causing several of the spiders to burst into a shower of black ichor. The scent of burnt silk and scorched flesh filled the air as he fought to clear a path.
“Bilbo!” he shouted, but the hobbit couldn’t hear him from his perch above. Harry felt the weight of urgency settle on him like a cloak, and without hesitation, he unleashed his magic. Waves of energy pulsed from his fingertips, striking the acromantula with a force that sent it sprawling backward. It screeched, and the sound sent chills down Harry's spine.
But there were more of them. As he focused on one, another two crept in from the shadows, their movements swift and stealthy. Harry’s magic flared again, and he felt the familiar rush of power coursing through him. He summoned barriers of energy, trying to protect the dwarves, but he wasn’t fast enough.
Some of the spiders lunged for the dwarves, their long, spindly legs outstretched, and Harry's stomach dropped as he saw Nori caught in their grasp. The dwarf struggled; his shouts drowned out by the chaos around them.
“Hold on!” Harry yelled, channelling his energy into a protective shield. He pushed against the encroaching darkness, focusing on the fear and desperation swirling within him.
But even as he fought, more acromantulas surged forward, their fangs glistening. Dwalin and Kili were pulled back, struggling against the sticky strands of webbing that clung to them like a second skin.
With a surge of determination, Harry took a deep breath and called upon his magic once more. The energy crackled in the air around him, forming tendrils of light that snaked out toward the spiders. He could feel their presence, their dark, hungry eyes fixed on him, but he refused to back down.
“Get away from them!” he shouted, and with a flick of his wrist, the tendrils lashed out, striking the acromantulas with incredible force. One by one, they fell, their bodies collapsing in a heap of dark fur and spindly legs.
But as Harry fought, he sensed the weight of fatigue settling over him. Using magic was taxing, especially against such overwhelming odds. He could feel the tug of exhaustion pulling at him, but he couldn’t afford to relent—not now.
“Harry!” Bilbo's voice finally broke through the din as he scrambled down from his perch, his eyes wide with alarm. “What’s happening?”
“Spiders!” Harry shouted back, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “They’re attacking! Get the others!”
Bilbo’s eyes darted around, and he quickly rallied the dwarves, who were now frantically trying to free themselves from the webs. “Come on, we need to move!” he urged, grabbing a sword from one of the dwarves.
With the spiders momentarily distracted by Harry's magic, the dwarves fought back with renewed Vigor, using their axes and swords to slash through the webs. Dwalin was the first to break free, his muscles straining as he pulled himself from the clutches of the spider silk.
“Harry, watch out!” Kili yelled, and Harry turned just in time to see a massive acromantula lunging at him.
Instinct kicked in, and Harry raised his hand, focusing every ounce of magic he had left. The air shimmered, and a bright barrier formed just in time to deflect the spider’s attack. It screeched in frustration, and Harry took the opportunity to channel another burst of energy, sending the creature tumbling back into the shadows.
“Keep moving!” he shouted, his voice hoarse. “We have to get out of here!”
The group scrambled back onto the path, Harry staying close to Bilbo, who looked at him with a mixture of fear and determination. As they fled, Harry’s heart pounded in his chest, the echoes of their escape reverberating in his ears.
The forest felt alive with danger, but with Bilbo at his side and the dwarves fighting back, Harry knew they had a chance. Together, they could confront the darkness, no matter how overwhelming it seemed.
Just as they thought they were regaining control, an arrow whizzed through the air, piercing one of the spiders that had been advancing on them. Several elves emerged from the trees, their movements fluid and graceful as they dispatched the remaining spiders with expert precision. Harry instinctively pulled up his hood as a spider's blood sprayed in his direction, desperate to keep it from staining his hair.
As the last of the spiders fell, the atmosphere shifted. A tall, blonde elf, clearly the leader of the group, stepped forward, drawing back his bow and pointing an arrow directly at the dwarves. “Don’t think I won’t kill you, dwarves,” he sneered, his voice low and menacing. “I would take great pleasure in doing so.”
Tension crackled in the air, and Harry felt the dwarves tense beside him, hands gripping their weapons. Just then, a chilling scream echoed through the trees. Kili was suddenly snatched by a massive spider and hoisted into the air, his desperate struggles barely audible over the chaos.
“No!” Harry shouted, adrenaline surging through him. He spotted a fallen branch nearby, snatched it up, and hurled it with all his might. The stick pierced the spider’s eye, and it released Kili with a shriek of agony. A red-haired elf darted forward, catching Kili as he fell, and swiftly carried him back to the group, her face a mask of determination.
“Search them!” the blonde elf ordered, his eyes still narrowed in suspicion as he glared at the dwarves. The other elves moved in, weapons drawn, their demeanor intense. One elf reached for Harry’s hood, and he instinctively backed away, sending a glare that made the elf hesitate.
Amused, Harry watched as the blonde elf insulted Glóin, his sharp tongue slicing through the tension. It was a narrow miss for Harry to stifle a laugh; the absurdity of the situation mingled with the fear that still gripped him.
As he scanned the area, a sudden wave of panic washed over him. He couldn’t see Bilbo anywhere. “Bilbo!” he called out, his voice strained. Just then, Thorin placed a comforting hand on Harry’s shoulder, grounding him in the moment. The gesture reminded him that he was not alone, even amidst the chaos.
“Legolas!” an elf called, diverting the blonde’s attention. The elf motioned toward some elven-made weapons confiscated from the dwarves. Legolas turned, glaring at the dwarves with an intensity that made Harry shiver. “Where did you get these?” he demanded, voice cold as ice.
“They were given to us,” Fili responded, pride lacing his tone, though it did little to sway Legolas's dark demeanour.
“Dwarves are such liars. Let’s go,” Legolas ordered, his voice dripping with contempt. The elves tightened their grip on their bows, and the dwarves, along with Harry, were forced to follow the enigmatic leader deeper into the heart of Mirkwood.
As they walked, Harry tried to keep his gaze sharp, scanning the trees for any sign of Bilbo. The weight of the situation pressed on him, but he was determined not to show weakness in front of the elves or the dwarves. They needed to stay united, especially with the dangers lurking just beyond the treeline.
The group was led onto a narrow path that wound through the towering trees of Mirkwood. Harry’s heart raced as they crossed a precarious bridge, the wooden planks swaying slightly beneath their feet. On the other side, a large gate emerged, both beautiful and imposing, intricately carved into the mountain wall. It radiated an aura of ancient power, yet Harry couldn’t shake the feeling of entrapment that loomed over them.
They were guided through a cavernous space filled with trees that served as pillars, the air fragrant with the scent of moss and damp earth. It was a breathtaking sight, yet the beauty of their surroundings was overshadowed by the unease curling in Harry’s stomach. The tension in the air was palpable as they traversed several bridges, each step echoing through the vastness of the cave.
Finally, they arrived at the throne room. Harry’s breath caught in his throat as he took in the scene. Seated on a throne adorned with vines and flowers was a different blond man, his crown intricately fashioned from twigs. He exuded a regal presence that commanded respect, yet there was an undeniable allure about him. If Harry weren’t held prisoner by his people, he would have felt heavily attracted to the king’s ethereal beauty, but his main concern was finding Bilbo.