- Sáro-Morë -

3018- T.A. (Third Age) - Mines of Moria

The Fellowship of the Ring, journeying through the deserted Eregion, had finally failed to cross the Misty Mountains. Thus, reluctantly, Gandalf had to lead his companions through the Mines of Moria.

An ancient dwarven city, the place was now inhabited by goblins.

Each of the members had to be very vigilant during the journey. They walked through the galleries with slow and uncertain steps, taking care never to stray far from each other.

The stairs, arches, and other tunnels along the main path turned the area into a true labyrinth. Moreover, the path was dangerous, cluttered with ditches and holes.

Leading the way, Gimli guided the group in total darkness, his dwarf eyes accustomed to such an environment.

For Legolas, however, it was a different story.

These places had retained no other name than "Moria," or "Black Chasm" in the language of the elves.

Legolas's unease only grew as they descended further and further toward the center of the earth.

His people still remembered the day when the dwarves lost control of this incredible city:

Khazad-dûm, as it was called in the language of the Dwarves, was one of the main kingdoms of their people. It was also said that the mines were rich in mithril, a rare and precious metal.

Unfortunately, the dwarves, too greedy to acquire more and more wealth, dug so deep into the bowels of the mountain that in 1980 T.A., they awakened a fire spirit that killed King Durin VI and his son.

The place had been deserted ever since, and anyone who ventured there had little chance of survival.

The walls showed no openings or escape routes, and the ground was even and firm.

Legolas shivered, not accustomed to such confinement.

"What are you thinking, elf friend?" Gandalf asked with concern, fully aware that Legolas was making significant efforts to control his fear.

The young Elf swallowed hard before answering the wizard.

"Mainly about why no dwarf has dared to set foot in this fortress again. Since the arrival of the evil spirit, few men have dared to enter these places," he finally admitted.

"An evil spirit?" Sam inquired.

"The very one that cursed this place," Gimli commented with a grating tone. "A fire spirit, or Balrog, if you prefer."

Legolas nodded while reciting:

"I am the only one whose gaze has pierced the Shadow of the Door. Beyond this Shadow, she is there, always waiting for you: the Curse of Durin. It will take great changes in the world and the rise of another power before the People of Durin can occupy Moria again."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Frodo interjected, nervously fiddling with his ring.

"It means that it will likely take many more centuries before anyone can defeat such a creature," Aragorn replied.

"You mean even Gandalf isn't powerful enough to face it?"

"You still overestimate me, my boy," the wizard nervously chuckled. "I hate the idea of frightening you and your companions, but I doubt I can face such a creature alone. Like Sauron, it's corrupted by the spirit of Melkor. Only dragons, they say, can rival them in ferocity and power of destruction."

"And between the two..." Gimli added, shuddering, "I don't know which is worse!"

The company fell silent for a moment, not pleased with the many perils that lay ahead.

"Actually, upon closer reflection..." Legolas thought to himself, "there's really no point in expecting anything good in such a rat hole. My Elven sight is useless here, and I can hardly hear anything other than Gimli's stomach growling with hunger. Even sound is muffled by these earthen walls..."

The grim discovery of Balin and his companions only heightened the concerns of the group.

After their first successful encounter with Orcs, the Dwarves must have been overwhelmed by their numbers.

"Killed treacherously in their sleep," Gimli raged, kicking a skull that could be supposed to be a goblin's.

"Peace, Gimli!" Aragorn ordered, compassionately placing a hand on the Dwarf's shoulder. "At least your brothers had the courage to die in their true home: the city of the Longbeards!"

Gimli nodded, tears in his eyes.

"Do you know where we are now?" Aragorn asked, turning this time to Gandalf.

"I can assume that we have reached the seventh level. North of the Twenty-first Hall, I remember there being the Chamber of Mazarbul. But we are more likely in the Hall of Records, judging by those eagle-headed statues we saw as we arrived..."

"Eagle heads?" Boromir exclaimed.

"That was a symbol of knowledge during the First Age," Gandalf replied. "This room was off-limits when I visited the city. The rumor was that this place contained all the knowledge that the Dwarves had learned from their god. That the wisdom of the Vala Aulë resided in these archives. But even that knowledge was lost on the day the city was invaded... How sad..."

"Is there a passage from these archives to escape our pursuers?"

"I'm afraid this place was strategically designed. Probably so that no one could enter or exit except through the main gate..."

We are doomed..." Sam lamented.

"Can't your magic help us?" Boromir asked.

Gandalf's eyes suddenly seemed to light up with an idea known only to him.

"Perhaps that won't be necessary after all, because I just remembered something! The eagle at the entrance is accompanied by a quotation:

'If you have to ask, you'll never know. If you know, you need only ask.'"

"And how is this cryptic riddle supposed to help us, if you please?" Boromir grumbled.

"You don't understand, my friends, but it's an old wizard's trick," Gandalf confided, with everyone listening attentively. "For us, nothing exists until we have the presence of mind to ask for it!"

"I don't understand..." Merry admitted, grimacing.

"It's a life lesson," the old man explained. "You can't get anything if you don't express it clearly and precisely."

"Like Miss Baliford's berry pies?" Pippin exclaimed, excited to have grasped the mage's words. "It's not enough to imagine that wonderful delicacy, dripping with powdered sugar and fruit sauce. You also have to kindly ask Merry's mother to make one for the delight of our stomachs!"

"Just like this door," Gandalf concluded. "The motto claimed that only a person who knew what they needed could then ask for it and obtain it."

"It sounds so simple..." Frodo chimed in, furrowing his brows.

"Riddles always seem simple once you've found the answer," Gandalf chuckled under his long beard.

After a spirited debate about riddles, Boromir distributed a bit of water and dried meat to everyone. However, the Elf declined to taste the latter.

"Strange creatures, these Wood Men," Gimli commented, gobbling down his portion. "They eat greens and drink clear water! It's a wonder how they manage to live forever..."

The Dwarf then spat out the water he had just taken in a "Pfoua!" that resonated among the rocks.

"Our diet is perhaps the secret to our immortality!" Legolas countered.

"I'd say it's more the secret to your legendary melancholy!" the Dwarf teased, snorting with disdain.

Legolas was about to respond to the jest when Aragorn stopped his gesture.

With regret but understanding, the Elf laid his bow on the ground to avoid being tempted to knock the Dwarf out.

He knew how much Gimli had suffered upon hearing of his companions' deaths. The Dwarf must have tried to occupy his mind by bombarding the Elf with bitter remarks.

However, if there was one topic not to touch on in a conversation with an Elf, it was undoubtedly what they called "the Age's malady."

Indeed, Legolas was one of the last-born of the Elven people.

Once a race equal to the gods, beautiful, strong, and skilled in all arts, the millions of years lived in Middle-earth had gradually drained the joy of life from the Elven people.

In this ever-moving world, Legolas and his kind were unchanging beings...

For an Elf, the world moved at a dizzying pace. They barely had the idea of picking a flower before its beauty faded between their fingers.

Barely had they shaken a friend's hand before that friend had to leave them for a world to which they would never have access.

And slowly, little by little, the Elven people had stopped multiplying, looking at life with melancholy.

The Elves no longer wanted to involve themselves in the affairs of Men, despairing of removing hatred from their hearts.

No Elves had been born since Legolas, as if the time of this splendid species had now reached its peak.

Legolas remained alone now. The sole heir of a realm that had become, in the ears of the world, mere old wives' tales.

Often, Legolas regretted not following his parents into exile. But what was the point? What was the point of suffering in austere tranquility when it might not be too late to change the face of the world?

Legolas didn't hold any illusions, but he hoped... Yes, he hoped...

Distracted by his thoughts, the young Elf took a long time to realize that he had continued descending these endless stairs.

Where could they lead, by the way? To the ends of the earth? To the last remnants of the Balrogs? Why did one always have to expect the worst? So as not to be disappointed by the sad reality of existence?

Legolas sighed in despair, yet he kept descending this stairway.

But wasn't this door in the former dwarven archives? Where, it was said, all the knowledge of Aulë was gathered? The god of forging and master of all arts. Perhaps at the end of this stairway lay a way to save a species from extinction?

Hope gave wings to the Prince of Mirkwood, carrying him ever further into the bowels of a past buried since the dawn of time.

"I wish to find a place where all the solutions can be found, to make the land abundant and prosperous again!"

That was the last thought that surfaced in the young dreamer's mind before he slammed his nose painfully against an iron door, cold and unyielding.

It was far from what Legolas had imagined.

The room was circular, surrounded by a forest of columns in blue, red, yellow, and green marble.

The arches overlapped one another, converging at the center of the room in a magnificent architectural work.

The place could have been beautiful if it hadn't been adorned with cobwebs, draping the walls and veiling the center of the room with a carpet embedded with dust.

Legolas was about to dare a step when a hand suddenly landed on his shoulder. Initially startled, he was soon reassured upon recognizing the familiar face of the old magician.

"I was afraid that this staircase would lead us to another dead end," Gandalf informed him, advancing towards the strange room that lay before them.

"It was reckless of you to go ahead without waiting for us," scolded Aragorn, nervously showing that he had truly been concerned for him.

The other members of the fellowship were also accompanying them, and Legolas suddenly felt foolish for having gone off alone.

But it was as if his entire body had responded to an irresistible need to continue descending this staircase.

"I suggest we split into two groups to find an exit," Boromir proposed, pushing aside a gigantic spiderweb in front of him.

After a while, while exploring the place in search of a passage, Legolas understood that he had not been placed with Gimli by chance.

"About what I said tonight..." Gimli began, uneasy.

"Let's not speak of it anymore," Legolas interrupted. "You said that in the heat of sadness, and I hold no grudge against you."

The Dwarf swung his axe nervously, still ashamed of the words he had uttered.

"You know," he eventually confessed, "Dwarves have become fewer with each passing century... At this rate, we'll soon be nothing more than ancient history, myths for humans. I'm pained to be the only representative of my race on this journey. Just 50 years ago, a dozen of us set out on the road to slay the dragon... I fear, Legolas, by my beard, I'm terrified at the thought that my people will never roam the earth again in search of glory and wealth..."

Legolas breathed slowly, moved by the Dwarf's confession.

He felt the same fears, too.

"My people aren't what they used to be," Legolas confessed as well. "If the Dwarves no longer dare to stick their noses out of their mines, know that I'm the only one from my forest who has dared an adventure in many years. I believe that someday, only Men will roam the lands of Middle-earth without fearing any other race competing with them."

"Man is a wolf to man," Gimli intervened. "I doubt that this race will ever find peace and harmony with Mother Earth."

"You're probably right, Dwarf friend," Legolas murmured. "But tell me," he asked, changing the subject, "do you know what this room was used for before it was abandoned?"

"Unfortunately, no. I had never heard of such a place before. However, the entrance to the archives was so restricted that I'm not surprised the secret was buried with its guardians."

"There was a raven and an eagle on the door," Legolas recalled. "Do you know what they meant?"

"When these two birds hold each other by their talons, it's mainly a symbol of alliance among the Dwarves. A communion between knowledge and intelligence, but also between know-how and innovation. A symbol of renewal, if you will."

"And what about the dragon around them?" Legolas asked, intrigued by the Dwarf's words.

"For that..." Gimli stammered, his eyes filled with terror. "I believe we have the solution here!"

3018- Third Age (T.A.) - Mines of Moria -

Turning their eyes to what had shocked the dwarf, the elf in turn held back a cry of surprise.

There was no doubt, it was a body covered in scales and spiraled across the entire room.

The spider webs had so far concealed the dreadful truth that prevailed in this place.

Hesitating to touch it, Legolas listened carefully to see if the creature was still breathing.

When he saw Gandalf approaching them, his expression defeated, the elf knew the wizard was in a state of agitation.

"How could such a creature end up here!" Boromir exclaimed angrily. "A dragon! Just that!"

"I believe it could very well be the carcass of the dragon Ancalagon," Gandalf informed them while gently touching its deep black scales. "Although its description is limited to the bare minimum, it's said to have had a robe of black color. It was also considered 'the greatest of all dragons'."

"But what is its carcass doing here?" Sam asked in a terrified voice.

"That's a mystery we don't have time to answer now. Let's hurry to find an exit and get out of here. This place gives me the chills," Aragorn commanded.

While his companions became more active in trying to escape this infernal den, Legolas's eyes couldn't help but turn to the creature's carcass.

Who could have possibly hidden the remains of one of the greatest monsters in history here?

The creature's body serpentined all around the room.

In a few strides, they found themselves in the center of the chamber and finally caught sight of the creature's head.

Legolas had never seen such a sight. The dragon's flattened snout suggested a jaw that could have crushed a horse in a single bite.

The back of its head was adorned with a strange crest, as delicate as a veil.

As for its eyes, they were like two emeralds with golden and shining orbs, like talismans in the ambient darkness.

Legolas's heart skipped a beat.

Those eyes, very much alive, looked at him without being animated by the bloodlust of a monstrous beast.

However, Legolas had the sensation that by looking at him this way, he was being stripped of his body to reveal only his soul.

The creature blinked its eyes with its strange transparent eyelids, and the elf was then certain that this dragon was indeed alive.

Legolas was breathless. Dragons were said to be vicious and intelligent. If he didn't find an exit quickly, the creature would kill them all.

Suddenly, the animal emitted a plaintive, almost desperate sound.

"Desperate?" the elf questioned, taking a step back in the face of the creature's sorrow.

The animal blinked its eyes again before finally raising its head from the ground, making it even more terrifying.

Legolas stumbled backward in surprise from the movement. However, he remained on the ground, knowing full well that his sword would be useless against such a colossus.

He expected to be devoured alive when two nostrils approached him to smell his scent.

Yet, the warm breath of the dragon on his hair was not an unpleasant sensation, and when he looked up, he saw that the creature still stared at him with the same intensity.

Legolas knew he was completely reckless, but he couldn't resist reaching out his hand toward the reptile.

His palm met a cool and smooth texture. A kind of gurgling came from the creature's throat, clearly enjoying the caress.

Slowly, the creature lowered its head, and the elf understood that it was offering one of its horns as support for him to stand up.

Gandalf and the others were there too, not daring to intervene as the scene unfolding before their eyes was astonishing.

"I am Legolas, Son of Thranduil, Prince of the Woodland Realm," the elf introduced himself solemnly.

But the creature remained silent and merely turned its head toward the other members of the fellowship.

Everyone suddenly stood in front of Frodo, instinctively protecting him.

"They are my companions," Legolas intervened, stepping between his friends and the dragon.

The animal lightly bumped its snout against the elf's shoulder to indicate its understanding.

Instinctively, Legolas's hand returned to stroke the creature's side, as if it were a large horse.

"By the long-bearded god!" the dwarf exclaimed. "I thought all dragons were terrible and cruel!"

"Can we approach?" Frodo timidly asked Legolas.

"I believe that if it had wanted to harm us, we would already be a joyful barbecue," the elf smiled, gesturing for them to approach.

"It still seems young," Gandalf noted with perplexity. "Smaug was supposed to be the last..."

The creature suddenly seemed interested in the old wizard. Like Legolas, Gandalf couldn't resist touching the beautiful scaled skin of the animal with his fingers.

To everyone's surprise, the creature emitted a soft buzzing sound: the dragon was purring.

Soon, all the hobbits began scratching the monster's neck.

Aragorn couldn't help but laugh in disbelief before joining in the festivities.

When the dragon's emerald gaze returned to Legolas, the elf could sense the intelligence emanating from its eyes.

"What are you doing in such places, my friend?" the elf asked softly to the creature.

As if in response to his question, the dragon moved its claws away from what seemed to be a rock.

However, when the elf approached, there was no doubt left. A lump formed in the Mirkwood elf's throat.

"A grave?" he understood. "You guard a grave?"

"Don't dragons usually guard treasures that they jealously protect?" Gimli incredulously asked.

Aragorn and Gandalf approached the stone monument. However, time had erased all traces of any name inscribed on the stone.

The mysteries surrounding this creature continued to accumulate, and Legolas felt frustrated.

"I thought dragons were capable of speech," Boromir advanced, taking a step towards the creature.

"Perhaps all these centuries locked under the mine have driven it mad," Gandalf replied.

"I don't like the sound of that..." Gimli inquired, tightening his grip on his axe. "Maybe it's a trap by Sauron to find the ring..."

"It didn't show any signs of aggression!" Frodo snapped. "You saw that it's just watching over a grave! Besides, didn't they say that dragon fire could destroy the ring?"

"It is indeed said that the fire of a dragon can melt and consume the Rings of Power," Gandalf stated. "However, there's no dragon whose flame is hot enough to harm the One Ring, the Ruling Ring, for it was forged by Sauron himself."

Everyone seemed disheartened by this news.

"I thought our luck was finally turning..." Frodo sighed gloomily.

The boy's sadness suddenly piqued the dragon's curiosity, and it approached the hobbit again.

The fellowship hesitated once more to intervene. Nevertheless, they were all curious to see what the dragon wanted.

It sniffed the little man and...sneezed unreservedly, as if the hobbit carried an unbearable odor.

Merry and Pippin burst into laughter, and Sam struggled to contain himself.

Fredon was now covered from head to toe in dragon snot.

"Charming!" Aragorn exclaimed, a amused smile on his lips.

"We can't say that the ring is appealing to our young friend!" Gandalf chuckled good-naturedly.

"Maybe we can ask this creature to destroy it," Gimli finally suggested, now convinced that the creature was harmless.

And that's what they did. Frodo placed the ring on the ground, and Legolas gestured for the beast to burn the object.

To their great surprise once again, the creature, innocently, complied.

A green flame emerged from its mouth to illuminate the room.

Legolas had never imagined that at any moment, the creature could have incinerated them all with a single burst of flames.

Unfortunately, to the dismay of the bearer, the ring remained intact.

"That's what I feared..." Gandalf lamented. "The ring can only be destroyed in the boiling lava of Mount Doom, where it was forged."

"What do we do now, Gandalf?" Frodo asked while being careful not to burn himself while picking up the ring.

The hobbit was as white as a sheet, and Legolas suspected that the experience had been painful for him.

"We will spend the night here," the wizard informed them. "Unfortunately, I fear we'll have to retrace our steps after getting some rest. It seems this chamber has no exit..."

And they complied, exhausted by a night that had extended in a way no one could have anticipated.

To the group's surprise, the dragon took on a protective attitude toward Frodo. The creature unfolded one of its gigantic wings to create an improvised blanket for the hobbit.

Legolas was about to prepare an herbal infusion when he heard a strange sound. Or rather, a song, if one thought about it.

But there was nothing human in such a melody.

Legolas realized that it was the dragon singing, lulling the hobbit to sleep.

The music was a cross between that of birds and a stringed instrument. Never in his long life had Legolas heard a similar lament. It was of an intriguing subtlety to a discerning ear, and the elf closed his eyes for a moment to enjoy this unprecedented sound.

"When in the Black Chasm, a funeral tale,

Its scales glisten with reflections of shadows.

It guards an unnamed tomb,

With its emerald eyes, it gazes upon you,

Watching over the eternal sleep of a stranger,

Such a pious treasure, for a dragon who would have thought?"

Legolas sang on until all the members of the fellowship had fallen asleep. He then went to sit by the side of the animal, which fell silent as he approached.

"I wonder how long you've been here..." he whispered, convinced that the dragon understood his words.

"I would have liked to know who rests beneath these stones," he continued, "but I fear this secret will remain one forever..."

The dragon playfully blew warm breath on his head, momentarily lifting the heaviness in Legolas's heart.

It had been a long time since he had felt so light; the creature's presence had mysteriously calmed him.

Feeling suddenly exhausted, Legolas lay down under the protective wing of the animal and fell into a dreamless sleep.

3018 - Third Age (T.A.) - Mines of Moria -

Harry was dreaming. However, the labyrinthine twists of his subconscious were the only reality he could hold onto.

He had been slumbering for so long that his mind was the only place he visited on a daily basis.

At times, he saw himself walking alongside Salazar in the Irish plains. His master tirelessly continued to impart the wisdom of the original serpent to him.

Then, more often than he would have liked, his memory replayed scenes that his heart still couldn't bear.

He constantly felt like he was struggling not to descend into madness, not to lose his footing, and to remain in the in-between realms.

Memories. Nightmares. The two entities intertwined so well that he no longer made the distinction.

Only his visits mattered to him...

At first, he had felt it, very close. That beautiful soul singing the same hymn as his own.

In an infinitesimal and cruel swiftness, he barely had time to grasp its presence before it vanished into the abyss.

Yet, he held on. He stayed there, lying on the cold stone for so long that even the earth couldn't match his patience.

He had promised to be there upon their return, and true to his word, he waited.

The walls crumbled, the ground trembled. But he remained unshaken.

Beautiful irony of fate, it was this state of hibernation that nearly condemned him to eternal slumber.

How indeed could he distinguish between dream and reality? How could he understand that it wasn't a ghost from the past standing before him? But rather the person who had asked him to wait all this time?

He was there, as promised, at the tomb that was no longer his.

Harry's heart raced in his chest, and ironically, he didn't know what to do in this moment.

How could he explain who he was? Where he came from and why he was here today?

Harry felt life coursing through his veins again. He stepped forward, and the man did something that squeezed his heart: he retreated.

"No, my love... It's me... don't be afraid!" he purred, blowing gently on his golden hair.

Then the man's fingers dared to caress, surely sensing what Harry meant to him.

But this moment of intimacy was short-lived. Harry felt other presences around them. Some seemed familiar, others entirely new.

"I am Legolas, Son of Thranduil, Prince of the Woodland Realm," introduced his companion in a solemn tone.

Harry couldn't help but internally chuckle. This name sounded even snobbier than the previous one!

However, a tug suddenly settled in his chest, like a warning.

His eyes turned to the source of discomfort, meeting azure blue eyes.

"A child?" Harry wondered, wanting to get closer to the boy to be sure.

The response from the others was immediate. They all positioned themselves in a protective stance in front of the child.

"They are my companions," Legolas intervened, stepping in as well.

"So," thought Harry with sadness, "some stories are only good for being endlessly repeated..."

"By the long-bearded god!" exclaimed a stout little man. "I thought all dragons were terrible and cruel!"

"Terror and cruelty?" Harry exclaimed. "Will opinions never change towards my kind?"

However, this didn't prevent the young souls from approaching.

Harry was suddenly overwhelmed by caresses which, he had to admit, were welcome after so much time alone waiting for his companion's return.

"It still seems young..." noted an old man leaning on a staff. "Smaug was supposed to be the last..."

"Is there no dragon left on earth?" Harry lamented as he looked more closely at the old man.

His blood stirred. He was moved to catch a glimpse of those mischievous eyes that had accompanied him throughout his childhood.

"So, you've come back too?" Harry smiled at him, accepting the touch of the wizard's hand on his forehead.

It was only when he recognized the last presence, so familiar to his heart, that he felt overwhelmed with joy.

Similar yet different. More regal, calmer, but his face remained the same.

It was as if all his expectations had finally been rewarded.

He couldn't help but purr with pleasure as he recognized his departed godfather's eyes in the brown-eyed man.

"What are you doing in such places, my friend?" Legolas asked.

And Harry did his best to answer the elf's questions.

For now, he remained in his original form. He would need to renew a pact with the earth to regain his human form.

He then finally felt what object was resonating with the heavy atmosphere of this place.

A child had a Horcrux in his possession, or at least that's what it seemed like.

The ring held so much suffering within it that Harry shivered, imagining all the wasted lives for such a dark soul to reside there.

He tried to destroy it using the magic Salazar had taught him, but it remained ineffective.

It was only when he saw the pale face of the child that he understood what he had just done.

"What an idiot," he scolded himself. "The magic of this ring must possess a part of the boy's soul... They are bound now, and I could have killed the boy by attacking such magic head-on!"

While waiting to find a solution to the problem, Harry promised himself to take care of the named "Frodo".

Deep down, it might not have been a coincidence that their paths had crossed. Fredon and the heavy burden he carried were far too similar to his own story to be ignored.

The strange company set up camp, and Harry felt his heart warm to be surrounded in such a way.

He felt so at peace that he surrendered to a song filled with melancholy but also joy.

And accompanied by Legolas's melodious singing, he whispered in the language of the Valar, a hymn to the glory of his long-awaited reunion:

"In the well of stars, a joyful epic,

Burns his hair with golden strands,

In the cradle of the world, I awaited him,

From his ocean eyes, all his tears I drank,

Lost in the realms of the dead, Prince of memory,

Such a valiant companion, in his reign, I believe..."

Legolas had fallen asleep long before an awful racket echoed at the entrance of the mausoleum.

Strange little creatures armed with spears emerged into the room, and Harry realized they were dangerous.

He alerted the fellowship with a harsh growl, but many of the members were already on their feet, armed to the teeth as well.

With a swish of his tail, Harry tried to knock the creatures down, but the room was too cramped for him to move properly.

When he saw Frodo about to be impaled by a blade, his fury was unleashed.

Rising on his hind legs, Harry let out a terrible roar that sent shivers down the spine.

Then what was destined to happen happened. The goblins were all charred by flames imbued with magic.

The orcs were hurled by a swipe of his claw, ending up falling to the ground like disarticulated puppets.

Harry extended one of his frontal horns to the elf so that he could lean on it to stand up.

Instinctively, the Prince of Mirkwood did something that no living being had dared before: he climbed onto the dragon's back.

Soon, it was Gandalf and the others who joined him, holding onto his dorsal spines as best as they could.

Then flapping his enormous wings frenziedly, Harry burst through the stone ceiling.

Half-blinded by the light emanating from where he emerged, the dragon wouldn't have known which way to go if Legolas hadn't guided him.

"Fly, my friend!" Legolas pleaded. "Get us out of this cursed place by the Valar!"

Even though his burden constrained his flight, Harry held on and soon found himself near a gigantic bridge.

He sensed a magical presence that had nothing to do with Gandalf's or Legolas's.

No, something much darker lurked in the shadows.

"He has found us..." Gandalf whispered, casting worried glances behind them.

"Who has found us?" cried Sam, completely panicked.

"The Balrog..." Gimli muttered.

Harry could feel his companions' heartbeats racing.

Whatever a "Balrog" might be, it didn't bode well...

Damn it, couldn't he escape danger at least once in his life? He was the dragon! How was there supposed to be something scarier?

With his blond prince, Merlin the magician, and his seven dwarves on his back, he felt like he was the main character of a completely wild fanfiction...

And yet, when he saw a sort of flame-spewing minotaur, he wondered if he had simply been cursed from birth.

Perhaps an evil fairy godmother had indeed mocked him by leaning over his crib... Why did this story feel so familiar anyway?

The image of a bald guy entering his room to kill his mother answered his question.

However, Harry had no more time to lament his bad luck.

A fireball had just missed him narrowly...

"Straight ahead!" Legolas shouted, pointing to a distant bright spot.

"I'll take care of the scourge of Moria!" Gandalf announced, leaping from the dragon's back. The rest of you, keep going toward the exit.

However, it was out of the question for Harry, or any other members of the fellowship, to leave without the wizard.

Once they crossed the bridge, they all jumped overboard to see Gandalf fighting the creature.

With his staff, the mage broke the path, pulling the Balrog along in his fall.

But how could he have expected the monster's whip to grab his ankle and pull him into the abyss?

For Harry, this scene had already played out once in a distant past.

Was each soul destined to follow the same path to death? Even if it were the case, Harry wouldn't watch those wise and lucid eyes lose their intensity again as they plummeted into the void.

Harry dove into the abyss to confront the monster. He grabbed Gandalf in his claws and, as they fell, engaged in combat with the Balrog.

He tried to slit the creature's throat with a bite.

But the contact was so unbearably burning that he released his grip. The monster emitted a guttural cry and dealt him a violent whip lash on his right wing.

Moaning, the dragon didn't give up.

He contorted himself to grab the creature with his hind legs and flung it onto the rock.

Now unable to fly, Harry clung as best he could to the opposite rock face.

The Balrog continued to fall without any further obstacles.

Harry held on only thanks to the adrenaline pulsing through his dragon heart.

Slowly but surely, he climbed the rock face to rejoin the fellowship, with Gandalf encouraging him from behind.

He finally conquered the cliffside with great effort. Moreover, he could already smell the nauseating odor of the orcs awaiting them at the exit.

Inviting the company to climb onto his back, he dashed like a cat towards the light, knocking and killing their enemies along the way. Harry enjoyed a well-deserved sunbath.

They had just passed through the Mines of Moria, and everyone was alive and well!

3018 - Third Age (T.A.) - Mirror Lake -

Harry walked blindly, guided with tender care by his companions.

He had no idea where he was heading. The earth had a strange smell, a disconcerting newness.

His magical connection with it was nonexistent.

He felt a painful sense of isolation, as if he had been torn from his mother's womb to be placed in the arms of a stranger.

Having spent so much time in the mine had made his eyes highly sensitive to light. He felt like a dead weight for the Fellowship, a gigantic creature unable to see or even fly.

Furthermore, the young dragon was hungry...

True, several millennia of hibernation worked up quite an appetite!

Yet, despite the hunger and fear of this new world, Harry was happy.

The gentle presence of Legolas easily soothed his anxieties, and the air was gentle and warm.

"I doubt we can bring such a creature into Lothlórien," Gandalf murmured to Legolas.

"This dragon has nothing to do with the powers of darkness," Legolas tried to reason. "I doubt Lady Galadriel will see our new companion as a threat."

"It's thanks to him that you're alive, Gandalf!" Frodo protested.

"But a dragon serving the light has never been seen," the wizard argued. "The wood elves have kept themselves away from the world for so long that I'm unsure if we would even be welcome."

A silence fell over the group at the mage's words, each one pondering how to safely bring their new friend into Lothlórien.

Harry felt a pang of heartache, realizing once again that he was seen as a burden rather than an asset by his companions.

He stopped his walk to contemplate the situation.

"What troubles you, my friend?" Legolas asked with concern, gently caressing Harry's snout.

Harry couldn't respond, but he focused on what the earth had to offer around him.

His heightened senses allowed him to perceive everything around him. He could feel the nearby plains and forests and smell the scents of eternal spring.

His scales were caressed by the leisurely ambiance of nature. The air was filled with the bitter scent of pine trees and the sweet scent of elderflowers.

He sensed the poisonous fragrances of avalanche lilies and Flett violets. The honeyed breath of the black bear. The discreet steps of the fox, an honest rogue, on snowy moss carpets. He felt the warrior's peace in the howl of the coyote. The eloquent silence of the gray bat. The symphonic dissonance in the hoot of the owl. The voluptuous aggression in the undulating movement of the serpent.

Then, finally, he sensed a signal of delight: a salmon jumping on the surface, briefly flying over the murky waters.

Harry now knew where to go. He changed direction, much to the Fellowship's surprise.

"What's happening?" Legolas worriedly asked as he amiably caressed Harry's snout. "We're not heading in that direction, Dragon. Let yourself be guided."

But Harry's stomach had no mercy. Legolas could say whatever he wanted – dragons didn't take orders when it was dinnertime!

"Perhaps he's trying to leave us," Aragorn supposed, unable to hide his disappointment. "He's free to go wherever he pleases."

"He is indeed not obligated to follow us," Boromir sighed. "However, a dragon among our ranks would undoubtedly strengthen our chances in the battle against Sauron."

"This dragon is not an enslaved creature," Legolas argued. "Furthermore, he is the last of his kind. If he wishes to enjoy his freedom, we cannot force him to follow us."

Still, the Fellowship decided to follow the dragon. None wanted to part ways with the one who had saved them from the Mines of Moria.

To their great astonishment, they soon found themselves at the edge of a vast lake.

"Mirror Lake..." Legolas recognized as he approached the shore.

Suddenly, a tsunami of water crashed down upon the whole group.

Soaked to the bone, Aragorn and the others could only watch as an immense shadow crossed the lake's waters at a remarkable speed.

Only when Harry's mouth was full of plump salmon did he decide to return to his companions.

"You... You were just hungry," Legolas understood, accepting the fish head Harry offered.

The dragon spent several hours fishing for his new companions.

Suddenly, in a jovial mood, they all set to work preparing food and setting up camp for the night.

As crickets began to chirp, Harry returned to the lakeside to dry himself in the moonlight.

"I didn't know dragons could swim, let alone fish!" Sam exclaimed, adding herbs to the fish grilling on the spit.

"Dragons have always been misunderstood creatures," Gandalf informed, lighting his pipe. "But I've never heard of a dragon enjoying water... This creature is a mystery in itself."

Everyone glanced at their strange companion, busily charring his catch of the day.

Suddenly, Legolas stood up and gazed at the forest.

The sky had a tinge of ochre, and yet they could still make out the silhouette of a deer emerging into the open.

Fearless, the deer trotted toward the dragon and, in a gesture of greeting, sniffed its snout with serene tranquility.

"Horn of a goat!" Merry and Pippin exclaimed in unison.

"The deer isn't even afraid of him..." Legolas murmured.

After this unusual exchange, the animal went to drink at the lake's edge, then departed without looking back.

"It might be time to give our friend a name," Frodo intervened. "We can't keep calling him 'Dragon' after everything he's done for us."

Everyone agreed with the idea.

"What about 'Black'?" Sam suggested.

"That sounds like a dog's name," Boromir criticized. "We need a name befitting a dragon."

Harry, having heard his godfather's name, calmly approached the group.

"And why not 'Ebony'?" Gimli proposed in turn, enthused.

"Do we necessarily have to find a name referring to the color of his scales?" Aragorn teased. "Imagine if your mothers had named you based on one of your physical characteristics."

"That would've given 'Baldy' for Pippin!" Merry joked, laughing. "He didn't have a hair on his head until he was three years old, poor guy."

Harry understood they were trying to give him a name, and he would've cried tears of joy if his reptilian eyes had allowed it.

"Nocturne! Onyx! Eclipse! Goblin-Crusher! Balrog-Bane!"

"Sáro Tulessë Ho Morë..." Legolas interjected, speaking for the first time since the naming debate began.

Harry raised his head toward his companion, surprised by this noble name proposal.

As a dragon, Harry was proficient in many languages, and he easily comprehended the elf's words.

"What does the name mean?" Sam asked, ever curious about the elven language.

"It means 'Savior from the Darkness'..." Gandalf translated solemnly.

"It might be a bit long to pronounce," Aragorn remarked. "We could simply call him 'Sáro'."

"I like that!" Frodo agreed, going to caress their new friend's snout. "From now on, you are called Sáro! Please stay with us and help us defeat Saruman and Sauron!"

"He's a dragon, he can't defeat two powerful dark wizards," Gandalf admonished, taking a puff of his pipe.

Harry sighed internally. Another dark lord? Would he never get a break? He hadn't even regained a third of his powers and he was already expected to fight against another dark mage?

"Blind and with a broken wing, he cannot defeat them in his current state," Legolas argued. "Let's allow him to rest and recover from his injuries first. We'll decide on the next steps in due time."

However, it seemed the hobbits were determined not to let the evening end without celebrating their escape from Moria.

In a festive atmosphere, Frodo, in high spirits, improvised a song in honor of their dragon friend. Gandalf recognized Bilbo's strong influence on the young man and smiled at his good mood. Frodo hadn't seemed so elated in a long time, and everyone was swept away by the joy:

Lost in the depths of the earth so deep,

Slept a creature with a legendary name.

Its shadow brightened in the dark so steep,

Saved our heroes from the fiery flame.

This is the tale of Sáro, my friends,

The dragon who gave goblins amends!

A creature of the night, eternally awake,

Became guardian of a merry band's fate!

The savior with sparkling scales so grand,

Fought against the Balrog's deadly brand.

The Moria's scourge, a famous name,

From the earth's depths it once again came.

This is the story of Sáro, my friends,

The dragon who rescued us from the ends.

A serpent, a crawler, faithful to the ground,

Carried on his back a gleeful, joyful sound!

We sing the glory of this eleventh mate,

Celebrate his bravery, his courage so great,  

We dance in freedom, away from shadows' call,

Pledging friendship beneath the stars' thrall!

This is the legend of Sáro, my friends, The dragon who tonight our hunger attends. Bearer of flames in his warrior's heart, This fish tastes so good, it's a work of art!

Harry let himself be carried away by the joyful music. The night continued in merriment, and all fell asleep, nestled together, lulled by the light of the stars.

3018 - Third Age (T.A.) - Lothlórien -

"Are you sure it's necessary?" Gimli asked, hesitantly dipping a toe into the water.

"When was the last time you took a bath, Master Dwarf?" Gandalf retorted with an amused expression.

"Since birth, by blue! What a strange question you ask, Wizard!"

Harry wrinkled his nose in disgust upon hearing this. He now understood why his sense of smell had been malfunctioning ever since Gimli had removed his boots.

With a flick of his tail, he submerged the entire shore in order to rid the dwarf of his foul smell.

"Look, Gimli!" Boromir exclaimed with an ironic smile. "Even Sáro sees the benefits of a good shower!"

The dwarf grumbled but reluctantly began to clean the grime that had accumulated on him since... No one really wanted to know how long.

The members of the fellowship had woken up late in the morning, each feeling the need to recover from hours of sleep.

As for Harry, he had taken advantage of his newfound freedom to explore the lake and its surroundings.

His supple and agile body allowed him to move silently through both the forest and the water.

"I was wondering where you had gone, Sáro," scolded Legolas when he returned from his morning stroll.

"We are in elven lands here, and I'm not sure how my kind would react to seeing a dragon on their domain. You'd better stay close by."

"Yes, Mr. Perfect!" Harry replied internally, shaking off water from his scales. "I had forgotten how much of a killjoy you could be..."

Everyone quickly moved away to avoid getting soaked again. Harry's size still impressed them all, and no one wanted to accidentally be squashed by one of his paws.

Harry approached Frodo to check if the hobbit was not too dominated by the ring's ill aura. Dark circles were visible under the boy's eyes, confirming his fears.

With a nudge of his snout, he gently pushed Frodo into the water. Then, before anyone could react, he himself dived into the lake.

It was quite the sight, seeing a hobbit surfing on a giant reptile. Frodo was thoroughly enjoying himself, and Harry was quite pleased with his idea. Soon, it was four hobbits and a dwarf squabbling over who would get on the dragon's back first.

"This creature has a youthful spirit..." Legolas murmured to the wizard.

"He indeed seems oblivious to the dangers around us," Gandalf concurred. "It's remarkable to see how much he cares for our well-being, though..."

"He might have been sent by the Valar?" suggested Aragorn.

"He could be quite useful to Gondor if Saruman's forces turned against us," Boromir remarked.

"You men are all the same!" Legolas exclaimed angrily. "A sensitive and intelligent creature comes along, and all you think about is using it for war!"

"And yet it's not us who use giant deer in battles!" Boromir defended himself, glaring at the elf.

But the man didn't say more, as the tip of an arrow was suddenly pressed against his temple.

The elves of Lothlórien had found them.

"Peace!" Legolas intervened, rushing to Boromir's aid. "We are friends!"

"Elen síla lúmenn' omentielmo, Legolas," greeted a golden-haired elf.

"Haldir!" called Gandalf's calm voice. "Ask your men to lower their weapons. We are here on a mission for Lord Elrond!"

"Accompanied by strangers, it seems!" remarked the elf, nodding towards the dwarf and hobbits' attire scattered on the ground.

"They are our companions on this journey. Each has been chosen for a task of utmost importance," informed Aragorn.

"You know the rules to enter Lothlórien, Aragorn, son of Arathorn," Haldir retorted coldly. "Did you think you could wander in these woods without the permission of Lady Galadriel? Rid yourselves of your weapons, and then we shall decide your fate!"

"I'm afraid it's you, dear Haldir, who should lay down your bow," Gandalf advised amicably, stepping back a couple of paces.

But the guardian took this as a threat and aimed his bow at the wizard, fury flashing in his eyes.

A drop of water, then two, landed on the elf's cheek. The other guards suddenly stepped back as a shadow rose above their heads.

At the sight of the monster, Haldir stumbled on a root. The elf was petrified by the appearance of a dragon accompanied by a dwarf sitting cross-legged on its head and four hobbits situated in pairs on the animal's flanks. All were clad in the simplest attire, and the elf nearly fainted at the sight.

"A problem, Gandalf?" Frodo asked, fully recovered and energetic.

"May I introduce our companions, Sir Haldir," Gandalf proposed with a small amused smile. "Here is the Master Dwarf Gimli, son of Glóin, and our four hobbits named Frodo Baggins, Samwise Gamgee, Peregrin Took, and Meriadoc Brandybuck. However, I would advise you not to show any condescension in the presence of Sáro Tulessë Ho Morë, our dragon friend who had the courtesy to guide us out of Moria."

The story of the ten companions who had crossed Moria on the back of a dragon spread like wildfire in Lothlórien.

It was a shock for the Galadhrim, the inhabitants of Lothlórien, to receive such a creature in their prosperous land.

Haldir guided the members of the Fellowship of the Ring to the Realm of Galadriel.

Although at their initial encounter, the elf had been quite wary of Gimli and the dragon, he had grown to appreciate them.

As a resident of the highly protected Lothlórien, this elf was one of the few Galadhrim who knew and used the common tongue.

Haldir thus became their guide to the city of Caras Galadhon, leading them before Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn.

After introductions and a lengthy conversation with each member of the fellowship, Lady Galadriel had requested to see the creature of whom Haldir had spoken highly.

Harry watched as one of the most beautiful women in Middle-earth approached him, accompanied by her court.

"A star shines upon the hour of our meeting, Sáro Tulessë Ho Morë," Lady Galadriel greeted, bowing her head slightly in respect.

To the surprise of all present, the creature reciprocated her greeting with a nod of his head and then froze.

"Luna?" asked the dragon, completely disoriented by those familiar eyes that seemed to pierce into his soul to unveil all its secrets.

"Do you seem to know me, creature of darkness?" Galadriel responded in thought. "Have we crossed paths in another life?"

"It's quite possible," Harry replied emotionally. "Your soul carries the charming scent of mysteries..."

"Are you flattering me, dragon?" the elf teased. "Were we so close that I could hear so many nostalgic thoughts in your mind?"

"You were indeed the kind of friend one cannot forget," Harry honestly confessed. "Opening many perspectives for those stuck in circles and offering a fresh perspective on problems that can only be solved by approaching them from a different angle."

"What you're saying does taste like lived experience," Galadriel commented.

"You... You're able to communicate with him!" Gandalf exclaimed, advancing toward them.

"Yes, indeed," confirmed the Lady. "The spirit of this dragon intrigues me. It seems to be connected to a very ancient magic..."

"That's what I felt too..." Gandalf admitted. "But how could a dragon have stayed so long in Moria without anyone ever hearing of him?"

"What were you doing in that mine, Dragon?" Galadriel then inquired.

"A mine?" Harry repeated. "I was under a castle, I believe, when I fell asleep on my treasure."

"What was this treasure?"

"It was taken from me, but it eventually returned to me."

"What kind of living being would be a treasure to a dragon?"

"Apparently, all reptiles have a connection to the earth and the secret fire," translated Galadriel.

"Does he know the sacred chant as well?" Gandalf choked.

"Of course, I know the chant!" Harry replied impatiently. "How else could the fire of life be sustained?"

"Did you lose this fire when you fell asleep?"

"Yes, but its sparks have been rekindled..." the dragon suddenly calmed. "And now that it's back with me, I will never let anyone extinguish its light again!"

"Back?" Galadriel inquired. "Are you referring to the One Ring?"

"The Horcrux?" the dragon exclaimed. "How can you compare the fire of life to that cursed object? It burns and gradually destroys Fredon's mind. My fire, on the other hand, nourishes life with its light and warmth."

"Could you show it to us?" Galadriel finally asked.

"But it's already here!" Harry laughed, rubbing his snout against Legolas's hand. "It has returned, as it promised..."

"What is he saying?" Legolas inquired.

The elf couldn't understand why Lady Galadriel and the old wizard were looking at him as if he had sprouted a horn in the middle of his forehead.

"He says you're his new treasure," Gandalf answered, bursting into laughter.

That evening, it took Legolas several glasses of wine to lose his bewildered expression...

3018 - Third Age (T.A.) - Golden Wood -

For Legolas, the days passed like in a dream, both fleeting and imprecise. Instead of staying with his peers, he had grown accustomed to accompanying Sáro on his walks through the forest and by the river.

Legolas had always felt lonely during these centuries in Middle-earth. His family had always been preoccupied with royal duties, leading to a very solitary childhood. This was the first time he felt complete since he started wandering the forest in the company of the dragon. The creature wasn't with him out of duty, like the courtiers and servants that attended his family. Sáro was not a mere beast trained to follow him everywhere he went. No, the dragon was a free spirit and seemed to enjoy his company more than anyone else.

During their long walks, they simply observed the life around them with genuine happiness. Gradually, Legolas had learned to decode every movement of the reptile. It had become a sort of game between them. Moving like ghosts through the golden woods, each was able to trace the other's steps while remaining silent.

Melting into the undergrowth and enjoying the rare rays of sun on the damp moss. Taking a nap in the sun after an afternoon in the cold currents of the river...

"Quite a departure from the fierce creature of legends!" Legolas teased the dragon as he offered his friend some wild strawberries.

One evening, as they had lingered to gaze at the stars, Legolas let his heart open up to the creature.

"It has been a long time since I've felt so alive," he confessed. "Immortality sometimes makes us forget to enjoy the present moment. In the blink of an eye, summer becomes autumn, and autumn turns into winter. The years lose their meaning, and everything seems to move around us except this body that does not age... It is good to have a friend you can count on. I suspect it wasn't easy to stay underground for so long. That's probably why you're now enjoying your freedom. So, I wanted to thank you, Sáro: Thank you for sharing this joy of living with me..."

"How can one truly enjoy something if it's not shared?" Harry silently asked the elf. "Life would taste quite bitter if you didn't take a bite of it with me, my soul's companion..."

"My father never wanted to speak to me about my mother..." the elf sighed. "I don't know her name or what she looked like. She died when I was just a baby... She wasn't... She was a human..."

Harry buried his snout in Legolas's hair to offer him comfort. Tears were flowing on the elf's alabaster skin, and the dragon wished he could hold him in his arms.

"But I heard a story about her," Legolas continued. "They say she wasn't afraid of flames, that she was immune to burns. And do you know why I'm certain it's not just a legend?"

The elf reached out to the dragon's snout.

"Try to burn me, and fear not! You'll see that you won't harm me..."

Despite himself, but believing firmly in Legolas's words, Harry complied. The elf was right; fire had no effect on his skin.

"They say my mother was descended from a desert tribe. Now extinct, the legend says the Targayen had formed alliances with the first dragons of Middle-earth. That's why I wasn't afraid of you when we first met. I immediately knew you were of the race of dragons from the First Age... In the end, I'm starting to believe that our meeting was destined..."

The dragon then stood up and lowered his head so that the elf could climb onto his back.

"Where are you taking me now, friend?" Legolas asked, gripping the reptile's dorsal spines.

Harry then spread his wings wide. The Balrog had wounded him in Moria, and he hadn't yet had the opportunity to use them.

"Sáro?" the worried elf called, realizing what the creature was about to attempt.

The dragon then leaped over the cliff and let himself fall into the void before a current of air caught him.

Slowly, they gained altitude, observing the Land like it had never been seen before. The wind whipped their faces, and they felt as if they were freeing themselves from the weight of the world.

"This is incredible!" Legolas shouted. "Your wing has healed, Sáro! You can fly now!"

The sun was setting, and they flew through a thick layer of clouds to enjoy the last light of the day.

The world seemed vast and limitless. Harry briefly imagined being safe from danger, where Legolas and he could live without fear of tomorrow.

The dragon then offered his soulmate what he needed: the feeling of being alive.

He allowed himself to plunge back toward the earth.

"Sáro? What's happening?" his companion worriedly asked as he felt the creature plummeting.

The elf clung to his neck and yelled at him to straighten up. Harry, however, only spread his wings a few meters before touching the ground, spiraling like a leaf in the wind to avoid impact.

And there was no question of him gaining altitude again. Every obstacle became a challenge to conquer. Using his natural instinct, he wound his way through mountains and rocks, avoiding trees and skimming over the grass at a speed never before matched.

Legolas screamed again, but this time, it was exhilaration. Feeling his immortal heart pulse in his chest was simply incredible. The elf clung tightly to the creature's neck and couldn't stop sighing with muffled thanks.

Lady Galadriel welcomed Legolas and Harry into her abode with the utmost discretion. Although they were unaware of the reason for their visit to these lands, both felt nervous in the presence of the enigmatic woman.

"You summoned us, my Lady?" Legolas politely inquired, bowing his head.

"I would indeed like both of you to benefit from a glimpse through the mirror..."

The water suddenly began to change its consistency, revealing to Harry a brief vision of the future. He saw himself standing before the Mordor, in human form. A man with his face hidden under a strange steel helmet stood before him in a combat stance.

"Who is he?" Harry curiously echoed Legolas's question.

"Life multiplies and thrives; it fears uniformity and solitude. But the bearer of the flame, he fears the darkness that surrounds him and refuses to let the shadows take his possession... You were not chosen by the Valar for nothing, Sáro Tulessë Ho Morë. Sauron is gaining ground, and your friends now rely on you to help them in their task."

"And I will do everything in my power to be worthy of their trust," Harry proclaimed fiercely. "I won't let anyone touch a ray of my light!"

"Then you have the answer to your question, my friend," Galadriel replied sadly. "A bearer can live without light, even in the shadows. But a flame left unprotected always ends up extinguishing itself, even after transforming into a blaze..."

"I will sing the song!" Harry exclaimed in a desperate voice. "If my light is in danger, I won't hesitate to use my last resources to keep it alive, no matter if it's in the form of a spark."

"By renouncing your wish, you, dragon, will save the Middle-earth. That is your destiny, Sáro. Life emerged from the darkness. Your purpose is to fight it, and today it bears the name of Sauron. But who knows how it will be named tomorrow... This is how the universe works, and your sacrifice has allowed it to be reborn from its ashes since ancient times."

"I will fight by your side!" Legolas intervened, having listened carefully to the prophetess's words. "We will triumph, Sáro, no matter how long it takes!"

"Don't make promises you can't keep, my love," Harry sighed mentally. "I'm not sure I could bear being separated from you again..."

3018 - T.A. - The Shores of Celebrant

Upon the banks of the Celebrant, the Fellowship of the Ring found their path guided.

After a month of basking in the serenity of Lothlórien, Gandalf at last decreed their departure with the break of dawn.

Harry navigated the fellowship's vessel with an effortless grace, weaving through the river's currents and daring the wind to match his swiftness.

"This dragon truly possesses the gift of turning this escapade into child's play!" Gandalf exclaimed with a broad grin.

"His wing has not yet fully healed, but I hold hope that he may soon bear us all upon his back," Legolas announced. "Have you noticed his growth since arriving in Lothlórien?"

"Indeed, I've heard whispers that dragons can expand in size in accordance with the environment they inhabit..."

"So your theories stand correct," added Aragorn. "Saro has not yet reached maturity."

The fellowship engaged in such discussions throughout the day, until the rain suddenly descended in torrents.

Opaque clouds obscured the moonlight, and the starry firmament vanished from the night sky.

A cry tore through the heavens, and not a single member of the fellowship mistook it for the harbinger of a mere storm.

"What was that sound?" Frodo inquired.

"They're called the 'Fierce Wings'!" Legolas informed with a tone of panic. "Conceal the Ring, Frodo. Above all, keep it far from these creatures! They serve Sauron!"

An eerie depiction of an eagle was abruptly illuminated by a bolt of lightning, its brilliance cruelly searing the landscape.

"These creatures possess keen sight and can glide stealthily and effortlessly," Legolas explained, his familiarity with these beings drawn from encounters in the depths of Mirkwood.

Before another word could be spoken, Legolas suddenly plunged onto the dragon's back, issuing a command for it to take flight.

Harry reacted instinctively, unwilling to be outmatched in the skies by such a dread-inducing entity.

"I shall attempt to launch one of my arrows, bestowed by Lady Galadriel," Legolas disclosed, already preparing his weapon's aim toward the accursed bird.

The Nazgûl did not recoil at the sight of the dragon.

A specter astride the creature raised a lance so sharply honed that it could pierce stone walls. This apparition stirred echoes of a Death Eater within Harry's memory.

Why did their apparitions consistently seek him out?

Harry was abruptly drawn from his reverie by Legolas's urgent warning of the incoming projectile. Yet, he was not quick enough to evade it, and he felt the lance graze his scales.

"Merlin!" Harry swore inwardly as a sharp pain began to seep into his veins.

The dragon could only make a rueful landing on the ground. His heart raced as he sensed the presence of orcs at their place of rest.

"Sáro?" the elf inquired with concern, his touch gentle as he assessed the dragon's wound.

However, Harry was already sensing the encroaching darkness on his consciousness. Whoever this Sauron was, the new Lord of Shadows seemed a master of the arcane arts.

"Legolas, what is transpiring?" he heard in a vague haze.

"I believe he's been poisoned, like Frodo!" the elf fretted, endeavoring to staunch the flow of blood.

"Orcs are drawing near!" Boromir cried, the ring of his sword slicing through the air.

"Protect Sáro!" Gimli commanded, his raised axe gleaming with resolve.

Harry could feel his friends surrounding him, a shield against the impending threat. He could scarcely believe that he, the indomitable creature, had once more assumed the role of the one needing protection.

Though his vision blurred, he managed to catch glimpses of the tumultuous battle unfolding around him.

"They desire the dragon!" Aragorn roared with frustration. "They seek to lay claim to Sáro!"

"It shall not come to pass!" Legolas declared vehemently, sending an arrow unerringly into the heart of one of the creatures shrouded in darkness.

With a resounding thud, the creature plummeted to the earth. Yet, that failed to deter their assailants. The Fellowship found themselves overwhelmed by sheer numbers, encircled by packs of orcs akin to ravenous hyenas.

They would have perished had it not been for a cry of agony that pierced Harry's ears.

That cry, he had vowed never to hear it again.

He caught sight of Legolas, his golden hair stained with scarlet.

It was in that very moment that the dragon's heart feasted upon the darkness gnawing at his veins. The poison metamorphosed into a precious elixir. The dragon's eyes turned crimson, and he lost his tether to sanity.

In a bone-chilling roar, Harry lunged at the horde of monsters.

Never before had so much blood flowed. The dragon relinquished corporeal form to become a shadow within the night.

A ferocious and unyielding executioner, not a single orc eluded his scourge of emerald fire.

Harry might have laid Middle-earth to waste had it not been for a small voice that prompted him to regain his senses.

"Sáro! Sáro!" Frodo called out, desperation evident by his side. "It's over, my friend. I implore you, quell your fury!"

Yet, for the dragon, the hobbit was naught but another threat to be eradicated. With a sweeping tail, he aimed to impale the halfling.

"Frodo, look out!" Boromir cried, interposing himself between the reptile and the hobbit.

The creature's spines pierced the warrior as though he were made of cotton. Boromir fell to his knees, agony evident as he coughed blood.

"NO!" Frodo bellowed at the sight of the man who had sacrificed himself for him.

Sacrifice. Yes, when cast as the hero of a tale, one's companions inevitably met their demise while striving to safeguard that chosen protagonist. Harry knew this anguish all too well. Suddenly, his awareness returned.

Upon a desolate battlefield, the dragon beheld the lifeless body of one of his companions.

His own injuries had miraculously dwindled to mere bloody gashes.

But Boromir, he had breathed his last beneath the dragon's claws.

He sought to approach his surviving companions, yet was met with collective recoil.

"Approach not, Dragon!" Gandalf ordered, pointing his magical staff toward him.

Bewildered, Harry took a tentative step toward his last source of potential absolution: Legolas.

"One step more, and my arrow shall pierce your bestial eye!" the elf spat, his bow taut, aimed squarely at him.

Harry's mind raced at full throttle.

"I slew Boromir," "I nearly killed Frodo," "I betrayed their trust," "I am a monster."

With a despairing groan, an anguish no dragon could fathom, Harry unfurled his broad wings and succumbed to the only directive his now irrational mind issued:

He fled, distancing himself from his companion, his friends, from any prospect of ever rediscovering peace and happiness.

3018 - T.A. - Rocky Plains

After bestowing upon their companion a funeral befitting a prince of Gondor, the Fellowship found themselves gripped by paralysis.

"Never would I have believed that this creature was capable of such atrocity," Sam murmured, trembling with dread.

"Such a weapon of war..." Gandalf sighed, his countenance downcast. "I am astounded that I did not discern this monster's true nature sooner... So much darkness concealed within a dragon... Enough to send even the Lord of Darkness himself trembling..."

"Perhaps it awaited the opportune moment to strike at Frodo!" Gimli speculated, trying to distract himself by honing the edge of his axe.

"He transformed before our very eyes into a demon..." Legolas spat, tears shimmering in his eyes. "A creature of Sauron within elven lands! Not even Lady Galadriel could fathom him..."

"And he nearly skewered Frodo without a hint of hesitation..." Merry wept. "Had Boromir not sacrificed himself..."

"Do you hear yourselves?" Fredo's voice cut through, his gaze fixed on an invisible point on the horizon.

"What's the matter, Frodo?" Pippin asked, laying a comforting hand on the Ring-bearer's shoulder.

"Do you hear yourselves?!" Frodo exclaimed, unable to contain his anger any longer. "Beast," "demon," "monster," "weapon"! I remind you that we named this remarkable creature Sáro! he yelled, seething with hatred. And until today, he aided us without asking for anything in return!"

"He became uncontrollable," Legolas murmured, his expression heavy with disappointment.

"Have you not noticed?" countered the halfling in disgust. "He lost his senses when you were injured!"

Suddenly, Aragorn seemed to recall an important detail. He retrieved from his bag the tip of the lance that had been pulled from Sáro's neck.

"He was poisoned, just like Frodo!" he cried.

"It wasn't a mere poisoned lance that transformed this dragon into a shadow!" Legolas retorted angrily. "Since the beginning, we've been dealing with a demon, do you understand? A ghost, a specter, just like those Nazgûl!"

"Dragon or demon, it doesn't change what he is!" the hobbit shot back. "He saved us from the Balrog. Ever since he joined us, I don't suffer carrying the Ring around my neck anymore! But what did you do when he used his magic? You rejected him! Why, do you think, a creature like him was hiding in Moria? Probably to escape the silent madness of this world! He never wanted me or Boromir dead, but we drove him to use the darkness within him. And all of it to defeat Sauron's armed forces!"

"Frodo..."

However, the hobbit refused to listen to the elf any longer.

"I'm heading to Mordor!" the halfling declared. "And none of you will accompany me. Sáro could have helped us destroy the Ring, and now that you've betrayed his trust, I'd rather fulfill my mission alone. I couldn't bear being surrounded by people who judge me just because my share of darkness is as evident as an open wound..."

With those words, tears in his eyes, Frodo departed.

As the dragon flew aimlessly, guided by pain and regret, what remained of the Fellowship made its way to Gondor.

Sam, too, eventually disappeared, and no one really searched for him, convinced that the hobbit had gone to find Frodo.

Many events unfolded over the following days. With the aid of the Ents, Gandalf and his companions managed to overcome Saruman.

However, as they journeyed toward Gondor, the morale of the group was at its lowest ebb.

Internally, Legolas replayed over and over the words he had directed toward Sáro.

Dragons had always been complex creatures. But he, an elf, should have understood that his friend was not in his natural state when he attacked Boromir. He felt that in rejecting Sáro, he had rejected a part of himself.

Truly, it was Frodo and Sam who walked this stone-strewn land. Harry couldn't in good conscience allow them to wander through the desert.

Knowing hobbits as he did, they'd likely get lost soon enough and seek help from the first passerby...

His shadow initially caused a commotion among his companions, surely mistaking him for the return of the Nazgûl. However, upon recognizing Harry and his reptilian form, they rushed toward him as one.

"Sáro!" Frodo cried out in joy, embracing the dragon's head with his small body. "Oh, Sáro, I'm so glad to see you again! I feared you'd never return to us..."

Meanwhile, Sam wept like a child.

"I promise to cook all the fish I find along the way! Please never leave us alone again!"

Harry felt a deep sense of shame for having abandoned the hobbits.

How could he have been so selfish when he knew how much his presence eased the burden on the Ring-bearer?

He emitted a pitiable sound as an apology, and the hobbits showered him with affection.

Even though the dragon appreciated their gestures, he knew there was no time to waste.

He had succumbed to sadness while the world was in agony.

Legolas could say what he wanted, dark magic or not, he would confront Sauron.

Draco too had always been filled with prejudice... It was the primary flaw of his soulmate. She had a tendency to be swayed by the opinions of her elders.

The dragon lowered himself to signal the hobbits to climb onto his back.

"Are you sure we won't be too heavy?" Frodo asked with concern.

With a grumble, Harry insisted, and the hobbits hesitated no longer. The takeoff, however, proved challenging. Carrying Legolas was one thing; the elf weighed as light as a feather.

But contrary to one's assumptions, hobbits weighed as much as two barrels of beer.

It took the dragon a moment to gather enough momentum for liftoff. He skimmed the ground for several kilometers, and Harry silently thanked the fact that he was in a rocky desert. Then the warm updrafts came, assisting the reptile in gaining altitude.

"This is marvelous!" Frodo exclaimed, joyously laughing. "Do you realize, Sam? We're probably the only hobbits in the world who've ridden on the back of a dragon! Even Bilbo wouldn't believe it!"

"Hundreds of herb-fried fish!" Sam responded with a chuckle, winking at Harry.

The dragon purred like an engine to express contentment.

Although Harry flew at a good pace, it still took him the night to recover from the flight. He eventually landed near a small stream, where Sam treated him to a delicious dinner of trout cooked by his own hands.

Even though Harry would never have enough to satisfy his hunger, he felt grateful that he was being cared for.

The moon was high in the sky when they jolted at the familiar sound of the dark birds' cries.

"We need to leave, Mr. Frodo!" Sam exclaimed, swiftly packing their belongings.

The two hobbits jumped onto the dragon's back without hesitation, and the trio fled, illuminated only by the full moon.

The Nazgûl spotted them sooner than Harry would have thought, and a pursuit ensued.

The dragon expended his strength to maintain their pace and avoid being caught by their foes.

Contrary to his expectations, the servants of Sauron's mounts seemed tireless. Throughout the night, Harry led an exhausting race.

The hobbits then cheered as they caught sight of Mordor on the horizon.

"Don't give up, my friend!" Frodo implored, stroking Harry's neck. "Just a few more kilometers of flying, and we'll only have to cast this infernal ring into the volcano's flames!"

Harry made his best effort to reach their goal.

As the sun reached its zenith, the Nazgûl gained the upper hand in the chase. Their shrill cries were so unbearable that they drove the dragon half-mad. He began losing altitude dangerously.

With his claws, Harry frantically sought a grip against a cliff. It was his only chance to shield Sam and Fredo from the dark birds.

The creatures were battering him aggressively, attempting to dislodge his cargo. Harry knew they would succeed if he didn't immediately secure the hobbits.

By fortune, the dragon managed to cling enough to the rock, and his companions swiftly understood his plan.

However, the hardest part was yet to come. He still needed to divert their attention toward him. He changed direction and, with a swift movement of his wings, rejoined the heights.

To his satisfaction, the creatures fell for the ruse and continued to pursue him. Harry took advantage of the moment to charge at them.

Caught off guard, one of the specters was seized by a powerful claw that flung him away from his mount.

For the second, however, Harry was less fortunate. The rider commanded his beast to attack from behind, preventing the dragon from flying. The two creatures found themselves falling toward the ground, locked in a desperate struggle.

At the last moment, Harry delivered a powerful bite to the bird, causing it to release its grip with a scream of pain.

His victory was short-lived, however, as he had no time to brake his descent. When he collided with the ground, he felt his body pitifully scraped and gouged by the sharp, unyielding rocks of the moor.

When he finally ceased rolling in the dust, he felt as though every bone in his body had been shattered.

The blood pounded in his head, and Harry lost all control over his body.

His animagus instinct revealed the bitter truth of his condition: he had lost control over his magic and reverted to his human form.

3018 - T.A. - Marshes

The young man tried to open his eyes, but only a blurry view of a desert landscape registered in his brain.

"Brilliant," he muttered to himself, "here I am again, Harry Potter, the bespectacled hero who lost his glasses!"

His body was sore from the millennia spent in the form of a dragon, and he had no control over his human limbs anymore. Several times, he found his face in the dust, like a disjointed puppet.

He could rely only on himself to get out of this predicament. What if Sauron's birds returned to attack? Had they figured out the ruse and gone in search of the Ring-bearer? Many questions galloped through the wizard's mind.

Harry was too weak to go in search of the hobbits. Yet, he had to attempt to find shelter before succumbing to oblivion.

With great effort, he crawled towards a small crevice barely big enough to accommodate a fox. Despite his efforts, his mind disconnected from reality as soon as he reached his goal.

Harry didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Indeed, he had once again plunged himself neck-deep into an inextricable mess.

The boy might have felt comfortable, hidden among the rocks, on the rough grass with his body sore. However, there was a pea-sized discomfort in his improvised bed. Just as one had prevented a princess from sleeping, this one... Harry had, so to speak, fallen asleep in a nest.

But not just any nest, nooo. He had, of course, chosen to take a nap in the nest of the most terrifying creature in the region.

Oh, yes! Another important point: they seemed hungry.

With difficulty, Harry got onto all fours to move away as quickly as possible from the nest. A poorly thought-out idea considering that movement attracts any predator worth its name.

Suddenly, a shadow engulfed the distractions in his mind. Harry panicked. If he stayed a second longer here, he would become an impromptu snack!

His last thoughts were for Fredo and Sam, who might, with a bit of luck, reach Mordor. They would no longer need his help then. Legolas, on the other hand, would probably never want to see him again...

Being recycled into a fresh meat puree for a brood of putrid birds wasn't such a terrible prospect after all...

Then he felt a snout sniffing him, and Harry couldn't resist the temptation to observe the creature to whom the nest belonged.

Up close, the dark bird looked more like a dragon than a bird. Its wings were, however, punctuated by a layer of feathers as black as the night.

Harry slowly raised a hand to stroke its snout. A purr promptly responded to him.

"Finally..." Harry thought internally. "We are similar in many ways, you and I. We belong to the darkness, but that doesn't make us bloodthirsty creatures..."

The creature moaned in response and placed its little head on Harry's chest.

"Where are your parents?" Harry growled in a language he hoped would be understandable to the creature, half reptile, half bird.

"They took mother..." the animal cried, rubbing its snout against Harry's hand. "The big one that smelled like carrion tried to attack us. Mother defended, but she never came back..."

"The Nazgûl?" Harry hissed with disgust.

"Doesn't know that name..." the creature replied. "Who are you, you who speak the language of the earth?"

"I am a snake," Harry informed him, "and I protect the sacred flame."

"How can you guard life when you can barely move?"

"I am weary at the moment, but if you spare my life, I will teach you to fly and hunt."

"You are my only hope of becoming strong and powerful, Serpent," the creature agreed. "My brother and I accept your proposal."

"My name is Harry," the wizard introduced himself with a weary smile.

"Mother didn't name us..." the creature saddened.

"Two birds have marked my life," Harry reflected. "You shall be named Fawkes. And as for your brother, he shall be named Buck."

And so, Harry regained his strength alongside his newfound companions.

Once the wizard felt the strength to walk, he accompanied the fledglings on their first explorations outside the nest.

Finding food for such creatures could have been impossible if Harry hadn't experienced tremendous hunger himself as a dragon. He found enough fish in the marshes for Buck and Fawkes to quickly gain weight.

A new enemy, however, loomed on the horizon, and the bird hunters quickly spotted the two young ones under the magician's protection.

The orcs tried to approach Buck and Fawkes as best they could. They hadn't counted on Harry's protective instinct, which allowed him to regain his reptilian form at the cost of a great magical expense.

Although severely weakened, he drove the invaders away from their territory.

Buck and Fawkes were now so attached to their new guardian that they hunted for him for several days, giving the dragon time to regain his strength.

One could say that during this strange stay among the dark birds, Harry finally got back on his feet.

If possible, their horde moved against the wind to hunt.

Seeing the prey and killing it, however, were two different things. The dark birds ate everything, but creatures as large as them needed to hunt several times a night to satisfy their appetites.

As the animal tired, excitement grew among the horde.

When they were close enough to attack, Buck or Fawkes would try to bite the legs or sides of the prey. Then it was Harry's turn, the leader of the pack, to catch the animal in his claws.

If the size of the prey allowed it, each member of the clan took its turn. In the case of a large animal, the birds remained near the carcass until there was nothing left to eat.

Harry's heightened animal instinct made him content with his existence.

It was only when the earth trembled and the mountain spewed smoke that Harry remembered his former existence.

"Harry?" called Buck, sensing his tutor's unease. "What's happening to the earth? Why does it seem angry?"

"It just reminded me of my duty," Harry whispered sadly. "I can't stay with you any longer. I must resume my journey and find the flame that keeps this world from falling..."

"Harry..." Fawkes murmured. "We are a pack. Brothers in the skies, forever bound to the earth. Where you go, we will go."

"Then there's no time to waste!" Harry exclaimed, letting out a fierce roar. "I have two hobbits to pick up."

"What's a hobbit?" Buck asked, tilting his head. "Is it something to eat?"

3018 - T.A. - Gondor

Buck and Fawkes had a head start on Harry. The dragon knew that his new companions were using their innate hunting instincts.

When he arrived on the battlefield, they had already begun to deal with the vermin.

Harry tried to spot his soulmate in the crowd. He didn't take long to find him by Aragorn and Gimli's side.

When he deposited Frodo and Sam in front of them, he took care not to land too close to the warriors, fearing they might blame him again for Boromir's death.

Without further ado, he abruptly left to fulfill his task. He sensed a malevolent magical aura from miles away and knew that a dangerous mage was at work.

A Nazgûl then appeared before him, mounted by a wraith distinguished from its peers by a steel crown.

Harry confronted it without hesitation, the wraith's mount not sparing him a single second.

Buck and Fawkes were far too busy fighting the orcs to come to his aid.

With a single bite, Harry managed to tear off one of the enemy's wings, and the Nazgûl had no choice but to miserably crash to the ground.

What Harry hadn't anticipated was that the sorcerer had realized he wasn't dealing with just a simple dragon.

In a sophisticated Parseltongue, he chanted the sounds that would finally annihilate the power of the one who had once been called "the savior."

Harry thought one last time about his beloved's golden hair before being pulled into the darkness.

Legolas saw his end approaching. The Nazgûls were ruthlessly pulverizing the city with their dark magic. Agonized cries echoed throughout the city. But the hell he thought was complete became even more terrible when other dark birds sliced through the sky.

Unlike the first ones, they appeared to be twice as large. Monsters with titanic jaws howled their funeral symphony over Gondor.

Still, Legolas knew that if he had to leave the realm of the living and abandon his body, he would do so as a hero. With a glance towards Gimli and Aragorn, the companions attacked the army of orcs in front of them as one man.

"For Gondor!" Aragorn shouted, brandishing his sword.

Blood spurted, heads rolled. One of the birds approached Gondor's forces and turned all the men in the front line to ashes. The elf knew that the massacre would continue until all the warriors perished in flames.

Then, a shadow passed over his head, and he knew that everything would soon be over.

But the attack never came. One of the creatures that had arrived in the midst of the battle had pounced on one of the Nazgûls and was now tearing it apart with its jaws.

"They can't even control their own monsters!" Gimli shouted, approaching the elf. "They're cannibals, eating each other!"

"No..." Legolas murmured, observing the back of one of the creatures. "Look closely, my friends... This one has no rider..."

"Wild birds?" Aragorn asked, perplexed, protecting them with his shield from an arrow attack.

"Or maybe they're being controlled from a distance?" Gimli speculated, pulling his axe from an orc's skull.

"Saruman?" Aragorn proposed.

"He has been neutralized!" the old wizard reminded them.

"Gandalf, you need to take cover!" The city won't hold much longer without your help!"

"I believe, on the contrary, that my assistance will no longer be needed in Gondor," the White said mysteriously.

One of the birds then landed before them without showing any signs of attacking.

"To you, messenger of the night!" declared the old man with a loud and respectful voice. "Who sends you to aid the light?"

The creature merely responded with a deafening noise that forced Legolas and his companions to cover their ears.

A few seconds later, another cry shook the sky, and it sounded familiar to them.

A creature as sleek as a serpent pierced through the opaque layer of clouds, casting a shadow over Sauron's allied troops.

"Saro!" Legolas exclaimed, hardly believing his eyes at the sight of the dragon.

"He has returned to fight by our side!" Gimli cried out, leaping for joy at the sight of the dragon.

Sauron's forces were then taken by surprise by the attack of the dark creature. In a burst of flames, Saro disintegrated the enemies attempting to enter the city.

"And he's not alone!" Gandalf finally understood, seeing the dark birds joining him like an squadron of giants.

The dragon landed in front of his former companions, keeping a certain distance. The fellowship was surprised to see two hobbits leaping from the creature's back to join them.

"Aragorn!" Frodo and Sam shouted in unison.

A wave of joy swept through the group, and in a few brief sentences, the hobbits explained how they had accomplished their mission. The Ring was definitively destroyed, but the specter of Sauron still persisted.

"Shadow has joined with light to counter chaos!" Aragorn exclaimed, galloping towards his troops. "The dragon and his brothers are our allies, soldiers! Have no fear of the night, my brothers! It comes to our aid so that once again we can gaze upon its stars!"

And the battles continued, fiercer than ever before. A glimmer of hope seemed to rekindle the hearts of the fighters.

The monsters were gradually obliterated by this new aerial militia.

Gondor's army was finally gaining the upper hand, with each man praying that the dragon would free them from the tyranny of the Dark Lord.

The reptile had been relentlessly launching offensives against the Nazgûls and would have likely won the battle if not for the intervention of an evil being from ancient times.

Gandalf had failed to defeat him, his staff shattered in the battle.

And now, the Witch-king of Angmar was heading towards Eomer's armies.

The dragon sensed the danger and left his pack to defend the men. However, the Witch-king had no interest in an animal like Saro. They fought in the air until the dragon managed to tear the wings of the wraith's mount.

But the dark sorcerer did not stop there and whispered words known only to the servants of the earth. A chant glorifying the original serpent that robbed the dragon of its senses. The creature seemed to suffer a thousand pains before falling like its enemy.

When the dragon reached the ground, its carcass scattered to the winds, as if it had never existed.

Legolas cried out in despair as he saw his friend turn to smoke before his eyes. By the time he reached him, he had evaporated. All that remained on the battlefield were hundreds of corpses, a monster with its head severed, and the empty armor of the dark mage.

The unconscious bodies of Eowyn and Pippin were also found, both having valiantly faced the Witch-king.

The two companions were taken to Aragorn's care, who set to work cleansing the darkness's mark from their souls.

But the time for celebration had passed. Saro, the savior from the shadows, was no more...

3018 - T.A. - Palace of Gondor

Since the outset of the night, Aragorn had spared no effort in tending to the war-wounded. The losses had reached an alarming level, and were it not for Sáro's intervention, the city would now have been naught but a realm of flames and desolation.

The king as healer dedicated himself to his task, eschewing any moments of respite. This ought to have been the hour of his glory, the long-awaited day. However, he found himself unable to dislodge from his mind the haunting vision of the sorcerer king reducing the hero of Middle-earth to mere ash. What a hero he had been... a dragon. An entity born of the shadows, one that had unfailingly striven to fulfill their every whim. A creature that had delivered them from the clutches of Moria, subsequently guiding them to sunder the Ring. And valiantly had it fought beneath Gondor's banners, reducing Sauron's armed forces to naught. Then it had vanished, leaving no trace. Dissipating into the very ether in a veil of smoke.

Aragorn had wept for its loss as one weeps for a fallen comrade-in-arms. His friend, the savior from the shadows, was no more.

With tear-filled eyes, he laid his hands upon the chest of a young man. His visage was smeared with grime, his breath feeble. Aragorn harbored doubts as to whether he could offer any succor. The wound on the lad's left shoulder was far too deep. The boy's garments were drenched in blood, shredded beyond recognition.

The King of Gondor's heart ached for such a young man, fading away alone and shrouded in the deepest obscurity.

Through empathy, he placed a hand upon the dying youth's forehead, uttering a prayer to accompany him on his voyage. That was when the lad's eyes opened, feverish yet gleaming like twin emeralds.

Aragorn was suddenly arrested in his tracks. These eyes were all too familiar, leaving no room for doubt about their owner. A vertiginous sensation overcame the healer.

"Sa...Sáro?" the man ventured, scarcely daring to believe his senses.

The youth then endeavored to reply, but not a sound issued forth, not even a whimper.

Aragorn believed he discerned the boy attempting to utter his name, yet the impression was as fleeting as it was indistinct.

The brilliance of emerald abruptly dimmed, veiled once more beneath heavy lids.

"Sa...No. Stay with me, all right? I... I will tend to you. You shall see, you will heal swiftly and never again shall you be called to battle. You shall know happiness, do you hear me? Sáro, stay with us. Hold on, you impish rascal! I did not sign up to witness your faltering, do you hear?"

"Aragorn!" Gandalf called, gripping his shoulder. "Are you well, my friend?"

"Gandalf!" the marauder exclaimed. "It's Sáro! I cannot fathom how, but I am convinced this lad is Sáro! I beheld his eyes, Gandalf, and I would recognize them among a thousand others! I implore you, help me attend to him!"

The old wizard appeared to take him at his word, for mere moments later, the two of them labored side by side to sustain the boy's life.

Spectators clustered around them, intrigued by the tumult the Gondor healer had wrought while attending to the wounded.

"We must move the lad," Gandalf instructed the tracker, his tone urgent. "My magic cannot find purchase in such a crowded space."

Thus, the youth named Sáro was conveyed to Aragorn's chambers, where he received less than optimal care. Aragorn also took it upon himself to cleanse him.

"What were you saying to him before my arrival?" the magician inquired eventually, after they had determined the lad would survive.

"I... I know not," Aragorn admitted, his shame palpable. "It's as if I were in the throes of losing someone dear to my heart or... more precisely, precious to my soul... You must think me mad."

"Fear not, my king," Gandalf reassured him. "I too experienced a similar sentiment upon beholding this boy's countenance. The reason behind such an intuition eludes me, yet, like you, I am convinced he is Sáro."

"How could such a thing be possible? Sáro was a dragon, and he is no more. How could this young man be the very creature who rescued us from Moria?"

"Shape-shifters exist, and I am all but certain this lad is one. Magic courses through him with such potency that quantifying it is nigh impossible. Furthermore, although we witnessed Sáro come under attack, there is no definitive proof of his death. The assault he endured may have compelled him to assume human form once again—the form we presently behold."

"This lad? A shape-shifter?"

"I am acquainted with a man who can transform into a colossal black bear. The notion of Sáro possessing a similar gift of metamorphosis is plausible."

The door suddenly swung open to admit the rest of their companions.

"Guérisseur Asor informed us we would find you here," Frodo announced, wary of interrupting what seemed a crucial conversation.

"Enter, my friends," Aragorn invited them eagerly. "This discourse concerns us all."

As Aragorn and Gandalf recounted the situation, the assembled group bore somber countenances. The hobbits had all lost their zest for life, and Legolas was as pallid as death. Each had suffered more than they dared admit from Sáro's disappearance.

"Who is this lad?" the elf inquired, his demeanor a mix of confusion and a magnet-like pull towards the prone figure.

After a moment of unspoken communication between Gandalf and Aragorn, the truth was unveiled.

"It is Sáro," Aragorn stated simply.

The announcement hung in the air, only silence bridging the gap before everything erupted.

Legolas felt his mind reel. His ears buzzed, and coherent thought seemed beyond his grasp.

For an elf, the concept of mortality was nebulous at best.

His kind had always dwelt apart from humans, fearing their inability to endure death.

Yet, Legolas had forsaken all that was familiar, standing as the sole representative of his race waging war against evil.

He had withstood the entreaties of his kin, setting forth on a path toward an uncertain destiny. His departure had caused his family to weep, yet not once had he regretted his decision. At least, not until that fateful day when he witnessed the world's most magnificent creature reduced to naught by darkness.

No elf would ever believe such a tale—the story of a dragon who defied Mordor until surrendering its life so that the peoples of Middle-earth might remain free. Sáro had vanished as if he had never existed, rendering the pain all the more unbearable in the heart of Mirkwood's prince.

Then, amidst the dense haze that had enshrouded his mind, he beheld him.

The rising sun cast strands of gold upon his fair skin. Ebony hair cascaded untamed upon his visage. His lips, partly agape, glistened with each tranquil exhalation, akin to the rim of a delicate seashell against his pale skin. Legolas knew the creature at his feet was anything but human.

"It's Sáro," Aragorn had said simply, awaiting their reactions before continuing.

No one dared move, lost in the contemplation of the youth's features.

To their collective astonishment, it was Gimli who stepped forward first, his hands carefully finding their place on the lad's feverish forehead. The boy's breathing altered suddenly, and his eyelids fluttered.

The Fellowship shivered in the presence of those uncommonly hued eyes, encircled by gold and ochre. The boy gazed at them calmly at first, then an abrupt fear began to grip him. He writhed in his sheets, as though struck by intense agony.

Aragorn rushed to his aid, seeking to assuage his turmoil. Only when the boy clung to him did he find respite. He gazed incredulously at his own hands clutching the Gondor king's tunic, breath caught in his throat. Then his eyes met Aragorn's, and moisture welled within them, finally spilling as tears. Aragorn enfolded the boy in his embrace, holding him tight as if he were his own child.

"Sáro, is it truly you?" the King of Gondor inquired, withdrawing slightly to scrutinize him more closely.

A familiar smile graced the visage of the stranger, obliterating any doubt as to his identity.

As one, the members of the Fellowship erupted into cheers, surging toward their friend. The Fellowship of the Ring was whole once more.

"How could such a miracle come to pass?" Fredon queried, addressing the enigmatic boy.

To their great surprise, Sáro responded with a series of strange hand gestures. He seemed eager to explain himself to them, yet not a single sound emerged from his lips.

"Another mystery unraveled!" Gandalf noted with a wry smile. "Our friend appears to be mute. Now I understand why such a powerful dragon lacked the gift of speech..."

Sáro responded with a rueful smile, then his gaze seemed to search for a particular person within the group.

Legolas had held himself aloof, still shamed by his recent behavior toward the boy.

However, the elf's fascination with the young man drew him closer, gaze averted.

A slender hand settled upon his cheek, and Legolas trembled at the mere touch.

Yet, he could not articulate the torrent of thoughts that besieged him. He felt feverish, alive, as though his entire existence had converged upon this moment.

"I wished to offer my apologies, Sáro," he confessed, voice tight with emotion. "I was unjust and doubted you. I beg your pardon for the words I spoke when Boromir perished..."

Sáro raised his hand to silence the elf, his touch stilling Legolas to the core. Then, without any logical explanation, this action elicited feelings in him that he had never experienced toward anyone.

Legolas returned the embrace, discovering that the boy had succumbed to exhaustion and fallen asleep.

Now that Sáro was among them once more, he would not allow harm to befall him again.

3018 - T.A. - Healing Chamber - Palace of Gondor

When Harry awoke, he found himself facing eyes the color of the sky after a storm.

He tried to move, but his shoulder throbbed and he winced in pain.

"Easy, Sáro," came the gentle voice of Legolas. "It's better not to move too much for now. You've lost a lot of blood, and it's a miracle that Aragorn was able to heal you..."

However, Harry couldn't contain himself. He was alive and by the side of the person who meant the most to him. How could he stay still when he had so much to say, so much to tell? Without thinking, he began to explain with his hands that he was happy to be with Legolas, that his heart was full. He told him how he had managed to turn the dark birds into allies and the unbearable time it took him to find Sam and Frodo.

"Easy!" Legolas teased gently, taking his hands. "I have no doubt that you must have a thousand fascinating stories to tell me, and I'm glad. However, I don't yet understand this mode of communication with hands. I'll need to be patient a little longer, at least until you teach me."

Harry gave Legolas a smile that curiously made the elf blush.

"I see Sáro is awake!" Aragorn rejoiced as he entered the room. "I just came to check on your bandages."

But when the king removed the bandages from the young man, he was surprised to see only a wide scar on his skin.

"This is incredible!" Aragorn exclaimed. "You must surely have some healing powers to have been able to heal so quickly!"

Harry nodded to confirm his godfather's hypothesis. He then tried to get up, his legs numb from being immobile for so long.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," Legolas warned.

And the elf was right. Harry's legs were as weak as a fawn's, and it took the support of both men to help him stand.

"I guess crawling on all fours for so long didn't help!" Aragorn teased with a sly smile.

Harry just stuck his tongue out at him, as he used to when he was a dragon, and the king chuckled at his response.

Harry felt silly for seeming so childish. But deep down, he knew he needed it desperately.

Suddenly, four hobbits burst into the room with their arms full of food.

"It's time to properly celebrate our comrade's return!" Merry announced, opening a bottle of wine.

"And we have enough here to feed a dragon!" Pippin added, cutting a huge loaf of bread. "What do you want first, Sáro? Wild boar? Fruits? Ale?"

Harry smiled at them, full of gratitude, and pointed to a fish on a platter.

"Well, well," sighed Pippin. "Some things apparently never change."

They dined in joy and good spirits, forgetting for a few more hours that the battle against Sauron was not yet over.

The next morning, Legolas helped Harry dress appropriately to appear at the court of Gondor.

However, the leaders of the armies greeted him with suspicion, as many rumors circulated about him.

"How can we believe that this skinny boy, and mute at that, is the dragon who saved us from Sauron's attack?" Eomer finally exclaimed.

"Give him a chance to prove his identity!" intervened the Lady of Rohan.

"Why doubt Gandalf's word?" pointed out Faramir, motioning for Harry to approach. "If this boy is truly what he claims to be, he can transform again!"

"Alas, that's not how the art of metamorphosis works," the old wizard replied stiffly.

Harry placed his hand on the magician's shoulder, indicating that he would take over.

The entire fellowship stared at him in surprise. He walked toward the assembly, trying to clear his mind.

Lady Galadriel had strongly advised him to reveal his identity as soon as possible. The diversity of races in this world was at stake, and that was his mission as the Guardian of the Sacred Fire.

Harry was afraid of being rejected by his friends after such an announcement. However, the safety of living beings took precedence over his own needs. He connected with Mother Earth.

Everyone was observing him in silence, and he heard gasps of surprise when he transformed his clothes right before their eyes. Harry was now dressed in Slytherin colors.

The air froze, and he prayed for the earth to manifest itself. He performed a series of gestures that gradually led to a strange, ageless music.

Harry moved with graceful gestures, stomping the ground with his foot. A fire manifested in the center of the room. But instead of producing light, it seemed to draw it in. The council chamber was plunged into darkness. Such magic could have been feared, but no one dared to move for fear of shattering the beauty of the moment.

Aurora borealis appeared alongside millions of luminous paintings. Magellan's Cloud, a comet, Harry summoned everything that made the universe a place of life and beauty.

Harry was the guardian of life and light. The one who invoked their powers in their original matrix: darkness. He was the child of death and time, the first and last of his kind.

But how could he admit that he was the son of two Valar? The only and unique child ever conceived by death and time...

While continuing his ritual gestures, nine silhouettes appeared around him.

They were the Aratars, the forgotten gods of Middle-earth. Then, two beings stood out from the group. One had the appearance of the most splendid woman. Her skin was alabaster, and her hair was like fire. She reached out her arms to grasp the hands of a man just as handsome as her. He wore a cape on which all the constellations of the sky seemed to have been embroidered. The couple began to dance around the boy. When the dance ended, the other gods pointed at Harry with their fingers. The couple had just enough time to embrace their child before everything disappeared, like a dream.

The sun returned to the room, illuminating faces frozen in wonder. Harry could only smile at Legolas before losing consciousness.

He watched the sun waltz amid the nine planets courting this Realm.

"Are you still here?" she asked gently.

"I thought you had run away... Again..."

"I'm just passing through."

"Something different would have surprised me."

"Why so bitter in your voice, my king? Look at all the seconds, minutes, and hours I give to the living to make your reign even greater!"

"Such a poisoned gift you give me here. Souls bend and beg for my arrival. I'm nothing but the shadow in which they lose themselves forever. I'm nothing but an end without foundation or reason."

With grace, she squatted down to be closer to him.

"Count with me, my king! On three, everything will be over. One, life is born. Two, I flow. Three, everything collapses."

"How can this be of any comfort to me, woman? Don't you see that I suffer to destroy without ever creating? Light... It's all that should exist... Light..."

"A light can shine only if darkness surrounds it..."

And here you are speaking like the God of Chaos... You should cease your dalliance with him... He will bring you naught but ill... Just as I, too, have."

"Leave Severus out of this. His task is as arduous as our own."

"Are you defending him now?"

Unable to bear it any longer, Lily took James' face in her hands so that he could meet her gaze.

"Look at me, Death! I have already made my choice, and it is with you that I wish to be bound. Oh Death, King of my days. Without you, my existence is in vain. I am Time, the one to whom you give purpose in her course. I know that your task burdens you, that reaping souls is painful for you. But I am ready to hold you in my heart. Can't you see?"

"So you do love me a bit?"

"Love is the only passion that suffers neither past nor future. Therefore, with you is where I can feel the eternal."

"You will eventually tire of this sentiment, I fear. The light will one day resent the existence of the darkness. So all of this will have been in vain... Everything annihilates, everything perishes, everything passes; only the world remains..."

"No, my love. Together, we shall forge a new harmony. Is that not what you desire?"

"To create while one destroys and the other extinguishes? Our story was but a dream, Time... A beautiful dream..."

Lily then passionately kissed James to silence him.

"Your love is tangible, Death. Come, place your hand upon this belly and feel what we have created together."

James complied, suppressing a gasp of surprise.

"It's... It's impossible..."

"He will be the darkness, my love. Worthy offspring of death and time. And he alone will protect the light of this realm. Let us take pride in being what we are. Let us be parents and grant our progeny every chance to exist in this world."

"The gift you bestow upon me is precious to my heart, Time. So, for once, Queen of my nights, you shall have the final word..."

3018 - T.A. (Third Age) - Healing Chamber - Gondor Palace -

"Thus, you believe he was sent by the Ainur?" Aragorn inquired, still struggling to fully believe this tale.

"He is more than that," Legolas murmured. "This... This boy possesses the power to sing the primal music."

"I fail to comprehend," the King of Gondor grimaced.

"The Ainur," Gandalf explained, "were the first and mightiest beings created by Ilúvatar in ancient times, before the world's beginning. Ilúvatar, the original god, instructed them in the art of music. It was through the first song that 'vision' was created, and ultimately, the tangible world... Middle-earth."

"So, Sáro would also be a Valar? A creator god?"

"No," the elf declared in a somber voice. "He is not a god, but rather their child. The sole being ever conceived by the Valar. And if what I have seen is to be believed, he is more specifically the son of Mandos and Vairë."

"Who are they?"

"Of the god of death and the goddess of time," Gandalf specified. "Mandos is a Vala, one of the Aratar. He is the spouse of Valië Vairë. Mandos' greatest power is clairvoyance. Many times, he has foreseen numerous afflictions that would befall Arda, or Middle-earth if you prefer..."

"So, they created Sáro to prevent the darkness from conquering the world," Aragorn concluded. "But... he's just a child..."

"A child who was locked away in a mine!" the elf spat. "A child transformed into a dragon, waiting for millennia in darkness until his services were needed."

Legolas was, for the first time in his life, consumed by a murderous anger. Clenching his teeth, he nervously stroked the ebony locks of the still-sleeping boy. Sáro appeared exhausted. He had collapsed to the ground after demonstrating his magic, and nothing had managed to wake him since.

"We are all playthings of the Valar!" the elf continued, unable to contain his rage. "And Sáro is perhaps the most ill-fated of us all. He is the one destined to sacrifice himself at the twilight of times, to disappear so that a new land may emerge!"

"Why believe in this prophecy?" Aragorn snapped. "I promised Sáro he wouldn't fight anymore. He's done enough for Middle-earth, and his life won't be put in danger again! I will prevent it!"

"You can struggle all you want to prevent it," Legolas scoffed. "But Sáro will never let us face Sauron alone. No matter what you do, he will fight alongside us..."

"That's my opinion as well," Gandalf sighed, his gaze darkening. "Lady Galadriel's words now make sense... Prophecies should be forbidden..."

"To whom are you saying that!" Legolas retorted, allowing a tear to roll down his pale cheek.

Aragorn and Gandalf suddenly regarded the elf, both intrigued by his words.

"I believe you are hiding something from us, Son of Thranduil," Gandalf remarked as he settled into a chair. "Or is something troubling you?"

The elf bit his lip. He never thought he would have this conversation one day. The last time this happened, his father had made him swear never to speak of it to anyone. Legolas had always honored that promise, but what was the point today...

"Through the Music of the Ainur, Ilúvatar created a Vision of the World," Legolas began, his throat dry. "The past, the present, and the future did not yet exist. He showed the Ainur what the world would one day become, granting them the gift of foresight, and explained much of the universe's destiny. The Ainur possessed immense knowledge of the world, yet they were not omniscient. So, Ilúvatar made the world real. Melkor and many other powerful Ainur desired to dwell there and prepare for the coming of Ilúvatar's Children, Elves, and Men. The Ainur, who had entered the world at its inception, then swore to remain until its end."

"I fail to see how this story could trouble you to this extent," Aragorn admitted.

"It's because there's a continuation to Ilúvatar's vision," the elf replied, unable to meet the Gondor king's gaze. "A sort of prophecy. Our understanding of the Ainur's final destiny is incomplete, and even they are unaware. Yet it is said that after the great battle at the end of the world, they will create a second, even greater music, with the Children of Ilúvatar."

Suddenly, Gandalf stood up, agitated, pacing back and forth in the room.

"You are familiar with this prophecy as well, Gandalf?" Aragorn queried. "What does it say?"

However, Legolas was the one who responded:

"He vanquished life by tearing his soul apart, She will conquer death by surrendering to hate. He won for those who starve for his start, She will be betrayed by friends who fear her fate. He is the guardian bearing his flame, She is the light her heart will claim. Born first, she the younger shall be, Dying for him, her debt shall set her free. One plunges into light, the other soars into darkness. In a shared voice, they celebrate life's fondness. In two beats, her heart has throbbed for him, In two silences, his mind will be moved by her whim. And in a single, unique refrain, Their union will make them whole again."

"Do you think this prophecy is meant for the Children of Ilúvatar?" the young king asked, looking perplexed.

"To be frank," Gandalf finally responded, "I thought I and Lord Elrond were the only ones who knew this verse..."

"Why would Lord Elrond know this ancient poetry?" the elf suddenly asked, his complexion as pale as death. "It has been passed down through generations in my family... My father... My father always told me it was meant for a man in my line, and that when the time came, through these rhymes, the destiny of Middle-earth could finally be fulfilled..."

"Sadly, that's what Lord Elrond believed for his lineage as well," Gandalf murmured, observing the elf with curiosity. "A man and an elf, both uniting in the world's final hours so that life may endure..."

"I still don't understand..." Aragorn pressed impatiently.

"Both you and Arwen were chosen by the Valar!" Legolas burst out suddenly, losing his composure. "You are the Children of Ilúvatar! Destined to one another since the beginning of the world's music!"

A silence followed this declaration. Aragorn still seemed to struggle to grasp the elf's words.

"Even if the prophecy spoke of us," Aragorn began, "how does it affect you, my friend?"

However, Gandalf took it upon himself to answer in place of the elf, who couldn't manage a single word.

"Arwen and Legolas are now the last elves born in Middle-earth. If you, Aragorn, son of Arathorn, and Arwen, daughter of Elrond, are indeed the lovers foretold in the prophecy, then there will never be a future for Legolas' lineage..."

"So, Arwen and you should have..." Aragorn began, but didn't dare finish his sentence.

"No, of course not!" Legolas interrupted, his expression suddenly uncomfortable at this prospect. "The song clearly states that love will arise between an elf and a human. 'Born first, she the younger shall be,' the prophecy says. Arwen and I could never have been that couple. What you must understand is that my family appeared to be the only ones acquainted with this poem... Understand, I am the last elf in Middle-earth without a companion... Over time, I began to believe that..."

"That the time had come for the prophecy to come true. That you were finally going to find your other half," Aragorn understood, a palpable sadness in his eyes.

"If Sáro dies in this final battle, then I will die by his side," the elf concluded. "If his destiny is to sacrifice himself for this world. If mine is not to create a new world... Then I would rather forfeit immortality than live an eternal life alone..."

Harry felt nauseous. He had forgotten how much energy the music of the Valar required. His magical core would likely take several days to recover from it. He tried to sit up, but his body didn't respond to his command. He groaned.

"Everything's alright there," Legolas whispered, placing a cool hand on his forehead.

At the sound of that voice, Harry forced himself to open his eyes.

The boy wished he could convey to the elf just how much he wanted to be in his arms.

Suddenly, he remembered that now Legolas knew he was the child of two Valar. He became even more restless in his sheets. Would Legolas accept him now that he knew the full extent of his power? Would he once again be set apart and revered like some kind of deity, unable to have a peaceful life?

"Calm down, Sáro," Legolas urged. "You won't recover from your fatigue by thrashing about like a worm."

Harry froze. Did Legolas really just call him a... a "worm"?

On the bright side, this comparison indicated to Harry that he hadn't been put on a pedestal.

On the other hand, his dragon pride took a hit. Having remained in the form of a reptile for ages, he still retained many psychological traits of the creature.

In response to this offense, Harry had no choice but to cast a charm on this insolent elf.

Hobbits chose that moment to enter the room. They all stared at Legolas as if he'd grown a pink mustache. Which was precisely the case.

Not understanding, Legolas looked at the hobbits with a perplexed expression as they doubled over with laughter. His dubious look only increased the frequency of the laughs.

Only when he caught Harry's sadistic smile did he suspect that something had happened to his face. He hurried to his shield to see, astonished, the mustaches hanging below his nose.

"Sáro... did you do this?" he exclaimed, his voice strangled. "Don't tell me it's because I offended you by calling you a..."

Gandalf's ironic voice cut him off, having witnessed the whole scene. "Gandalf bless me! Can you help me get rid of this thing?"

"I'm afraid, Master Elf, that since this charm was cast by Sáro, only he can undo it for you."

But when the elf turned toward his culprit, Harry was trembling under the sheets.

"Sáro! What's happening?" Legolas suddenly cried, rushing to his protégé's aid. "Sáro, what's wrong?"

Yet when the elf turned Harry's head toward him, he was relieved to see the boy simply laughing uncontrollably.

When Harry finally calmed down, he looked at Legolas with sparkling eyes and a mischievous air. He took Legolas' face in his hands, and the mustache vanished instantly. The elf blushed with embarrassment and spent the rest of the evening gazing at his reflection in Aragorn's shield, still haunted by the vision of that dreadful pink mustache.

Harry dreamt that Sauron had taken Voldemort's face. The Dark Lord seized Legolas' hair in his grip, forcing the elf to kneel before him.

"See the cost of joining the ranks of the weak, Draco," the Dark Lord whispered in the blonde's ear.

"A life without a future, a death without glory... To think you returned from the realm of the dead for this thing... Join me... Become my light, and together, we will rule Middle-earth."

"Legolas!" Harry screamed, unable to hold back his tears. "Don't leave me! Please, don't leave me alone..."

"Sáro!" Legolas called out, waking Harry from his nightmare.

When the young boy finally woke up, he desperately reached out to cling to his companion.

His small body groped around in the darkness for the only person who could keep him from slipping away. He clung to Legolas as if his life depended on it.

"Hush," Legolas murmured, returning the embrace with equal strength. "It's over; it was just a dream."

After a while, the blonde pulled away from the brunet to see his face. Tear streaks still marked his cheeks, which the elf wiped away with the back of his hand.

"You must feel burdened by so much responsibility, Sáro," his companion murmured with compassionate understanding. "But even if the Valar are counting on you to fulfill some divine mission, know that you can lean on us. You are not alone, do you hear me?"

Harry stared at him in astonishment. Draco had always been able to read him like an open book. He felt so fortunate to have such a companion by his side. The young man placed his hand over Legolas' heart and guided his soulmate's hand to his own chest. Legolas shyly smiled before responding:

"I care about you too, Sáro... We all do..."

Harry smiled back before resting his head on the elf's chest, now reassured by his presence.

He didn't hold it against Legolas for not fully grasping the profound meaning of what he had just said.

Still, Harry could relish in Legolas' attentions and sympathy. Harry felt the elf's fingers attempt to untangle his messy brown hair behind him. He sighed in contentment and savored this intimate moment with his other half. Even subconsciously, Legolas' soul responded to his need for contact and warmth.

The elf's voice rose in a gentle symphony that gradually led Harry into the arms of Morpheus.

Like the song of the stones,

that resonates in silence,

like the water that winds,

and roars beneath me, you know,

I will return, to my childhood land,

to the land of dreams, fairies, and kings.

There my love, far from the city,

it's colder and the days are fragile,

summer mists, island steeples, you'll see, I'll go there...

like Brian Boru, King of Ireland,

I'll take to the sea and lay down my arms. Brian Boru, soon I'll be back, in Keltia.

Surprised to hear this melody after so long, Harry looked at Legolas with a puzzled expression.

"Since time immemorial," the elf explained. "My family teaches this ancient song to its children. I don't really know what it means. Who this King of Ireland, Brian Boru, is... But it seemed important to the person who composed it. For us elves, death is only a passage to a new body. My father said that one day, one of our ancestors would return to Middle-earth to sing this melody to his beloved. Since then, from father to son, we learn it in the hope of finding that lost love again."

Hiding his tears, Harry buried his face in his companion's chest.

Legolas felt a warm body on top of him.

The young boy had his face against his chest, breathing deeply and looking at peace.

The elf wished he could keep this warmth in his arms for eternity. Apart from his father, he couldn't recall ever embracing anyone. This new closeness stirred his heart.

Sáro suddenly shifted in his arms, his enigmatic eyes half-open as he smiled at Legolas. The elf was once again overcome with a dizzying rush of happiness.

"We... we should get you dressed," the elf said, sitting up. "The council will need us in a few hours, and we should be ready by then."

Sáro simply nodded, attempting to sit up.

"Let me help you," Legolas offered, a encouraging smile on his face.

After carefully examining the boy's bandages one last time, Legolas helped him into a set of Istari robes. Sáro looked surprised.

"Gandalf had these made for you," Legolas informed, understanding the unspoken question in Sáro's eyes. "He says you're now a magician, and it's necessary for you to stand out as one. Your color is black, if I recall correctly?"

Sáro raised his arms to play with the sleeves, flapping them as if they were wings, and a light embroidery appeared on his robe. Legolas could recognize a crest on which a serpent was depicted.

"What does it mean?" the elf asked, pointing to the creature on the boy's chest.

Sáro gave him a bright smile, as if he enjoyed the question. He then placed his hand on the ground and waited to see if Legolas understood.

"The ground?" the elf asked.

Sáro shook his head. Close, but not quite.

"The stone?"

Negative response.

"The earth."

Sáro nodded in agreement.

"Elves also revere the earth. It's true that snakes are creatures close to the ground, just like dragons... although the latter are also associated with the sky due to their wings!"

Sáro returned the smile before placing his hand on the elf's chest. A different crest from his own materialized, featuring a magnificent white dragon embroidered on it.

"It's... it's beautiful, Sáro. My family's coat of arms features a white stag, but I find this dragon absolutely incredible! Thank you!"

Sáro emitted one of his silent laughs.

Legolas didn't know what had made him laugh like that, but every display of joy from his friend sent shivers of delight through him. So, he effortlessly picked up the boy and left the room with his burden.

"How about we find you something to eat?" the elf suggested, leading the way to the kitchens. "At this rate, even Pippin will be able to carry you like a twig!"

Then the elf felt a slight tickle under his nose.

"No!" he exclaimed inwardly.

Everyone was looking at him with intense curiosity, and Harry wished he could just bang his head against a wall. Could he ever enter a room without people whispering behind his back?

"Please take your seats," Eomer offered, indicating two places at the council table.

Once Legolas and Harry were seated, attention returned to the battle plan.

"Three-quarters of our forces have been redirected to the east by the orc army, my lord," Faramir reported. "I can't see how the few remaining men can gain the upper hand."

"What do you propose?" Eomer asked. "That the rest of our troops simply defend the realm and pray that Sauron takes pity on us?"

"We could devise a strategy to distract the enemy," Aragorn suggested.

"Do you have a proposal to submit to the council?" the Marshal of the Riddermark inquired.

"Only speak if what you have to say is more significant than silence!" Gandalf exclaimed before turning to Harry. "Do you have an idea, Sáro?"

The young man vigorously nodded his head and hurriedly stood up. He had an idea and berated himself for not thinking of it earlier. However, he was still far too weak to participate himself...

"Does our friend debate with his so-called gods?" one of the assembly leaders criticized.

"Only speak if what you have to say is more significant than silence!" Gandalf exclaimed before turning to Harry. "Do you have an idea, Sáro?"

The young man vigorously nodded his head and hurriedly stood up. He had an idea and berated himself for not thinking of it earlier. However, he was still far too weak to participate himself...

"Does our friend debate with his so-called gods?" one of the assembly leaders criticized.

"Speak only if what you have to say is deeper than silence!" Gandalf corrected, then turned to Harry. "Do you have an idea, Sáro?"

The young man nodded vigorously and approached Eowyn.

"Do you... do you have a request to make of me ?" the Lady of Rohan asked, using the boy's title to show her respect.

Harry smiled and took her hand to help her up. Eowyn blushed at the gesture but remained composed.

The young man knew that if they were to fight the orcs to save the soldiers, Aragorn would want to be the commanding officer of the attack.

He then moved to help Faramir to his feet, who gave him a strange look mixed with fear and respect. He then indicated for them to follow him out of the room, and the entire assembly joined the movement. This is how all the leaders found themselves on the highest tower of the kingdom of Gondor.

"If this kid is wasting our time..." one of the captains of Riddermark began to complain.

However, a hateful look from Gilmi shut him up, warning of potential retaliation.

From the top of the tower, Harry looked into the distance, seeking his friends from the rocky mountains.

"Come, companions of the air," he called out in his thoughts. "Fly to me before earth and sky collide!"

"Sáro?" Gandalf asked suddenly. "Why have you led us here?"

A shrill cry was then heard in the distance, making everyone shudder.

"He's sold us out to the enemy! It's a trap!" one of the guards exclaimed.

No one could hide, however, from the two gigantic, dark-colored birds.

Harry smiled at the sight of his brothers and didn't hesitate to extend his arms toward the creature that had landed on a section of the wall.

"Buck, Fumseck!" he rejoiced. "How good it is to see you again!"

"We thought you were dead, bearer of the flame..." Buck mourned as he rubbed against him affectionately.

"You stink of humans, but it's good to see you again, brother of the sky!" Fumseck rejoiced, attempting to untangle his unruly hair.

"I apologize, my friends. It took me a while to recover from my injuries, but all is well now."

"He's a spy sent by the enemy!" one of the army commanders protested. "He called Sauron's beasts to him!"

Harry was dismayed that no one could see how brave and loyal these birds were.

"They would have pecked us long ago if that were the case!" Legolas snapped, cautiously approaching Harry.

"Sáro?" he called. "Can we approach?"

A smile was enough to assure the elf that there was no danger.