Chapter 1
It was not long into the Fifth Age when Men began their Inquisition. We elves were shielded in our realms, but the rest of the magical world could not say the same. I could sense Sauron's hand in it all - his machinations clear from the fearmongering that sparked the whole thing.
What could I do but seek out those who could help me stand against him and his new army of men and wizards - unknowingly serving the same master in their hate?
I would need to travel to hollow, valley, glen, and fen - all to seek out those who call their world to unity in the face of Sauron's bigotry.
"Would you set out on a great quest alone, Galadriel?"
She turned, surprised as ever to hear her old friend's voice, "I take it Elrond got word to you, then, Mithrandir?"
Gandalf gave her a brief chuckle, "When Sauron moves, no one need warn me of your intent. You will always counter him."
It shouldn't have struck her as it did - that she was predictable, that he so clearly affected her after so many centuries.
The wizard huffed. "Don't let it worry you, my lady. Yes, he will expect you. But, as he has every time, he will tempt you to his side. His arrogance is his weakness - let your familiarity with him be our strength."
"I feel as though we have this conversation every few centuries, Gandalf."
"It would seem so, wouldn't it?"
She smiled fondly as he returned it, "Let us be on our way then, my lady. Our traveling group awaits!"
Galadriel raised a brow, "Traveling group?" She followed quickly, her pack ringing against her mithril chainmail.
Gandalf had stopped at the edge of the forest of Lorien, the edge of her kind's domain. "Lady Galadriel, I present our riding company. Durin, son of Turon, last prince under the mountain."
A hardy dwarf inclined his head graciously. She knew the Witch-King's followers had destroyed the dwarves' mines and kingdoms. For him to be here, it was an honor indeed.
"You honor me with your presence, Prince Durin. I knew many of your forebears and I grieve for all you have lost."
"Eldarion Gondorson, son of-"
She interrupted, "I know who he is. I am pleased to see you again, Eldarion, though you were just a boy last we met. It has been nigh two centuries, I doubt you remember."
The king's son bowed to her, his dark hair and pale skin clearly inherited from his mother - though his jaw was squared handsomely. "None could forget your beauty, Lady Galadriel, no matter how young. I may not possess the immortality of my mother's kind, but I am glad to have lived long enough to have met you twice."
Gandalf coughed obviously to cover a laugh, "Spoken like a true statesman. The other of our party you already know," he gestured to a blonde elf she'd not seen in even longer a time than the half-elf.
"Legolas!" Galadriel embraced him with a brief kiss on each cheek, "It brings my ancient heart joy to see you."
He covered his heart with a fist as he inclined his head, "It is my honor to be here with you, my lady."
She turned to examine the group Gandalf had put together. It was a team of varying strengths of heart and character. She could see each of them, feel their thoughts. It had been so long since she'd been in the company of mortals.
"No hobbits? I seem to recall you have a particular fondness for them, Gandalf."
There was an instant, overwhelming grief radiating from the group - stronger than when she'd met Durin.
"Alas, my lady, the Shire was destroyed and the hobbits with it. Their kind is no more."
She recalled a vision - the Shire on fire, hobbits in chains. That was centuries ago.
"Sauron."
Eldarion nodded, "Indeed, my lady. Likely in retaliation for Frodo's part in the destruction of his ring."
Gandalf's hand rested on her shoulder, and the power that she had not realized was building in her anger, calmed. "Vengeance for vengeance is a dangerous cycle, Galadriel, surely you know that."
"Do not speak to me of vengeance, Mithrandir. You who fell from the sky. I am the keeper of our brightest stars, and yet you once walked among them. What could you know of our kind's need for vengeance?"
He removed his hand, "Perhaps you are right. Let us set out. Where do we go first?"
She swung onto her bright white mare, "To the valley broad. There is a witch there, one of the most talented of any age - respected by all. We will need her if we are to stop the war that Sauron is fighting to bring about."
Durin huffed from on his pony, "The war to end all but wizarding kind?"
Eldarion shook his head, "There is a movement amongst the world of men too - to eradicate those they find that use magic. They have been burning them - gifted a fire that magic cannot counter. Our great cities are falling to ruin without the enchantments of the elves and warlocks of the past ages. Middle Earth has all but passed into legend at the hands of this new religion."
It was worse than she thought, then. "He'll draw them all into a war and present himself as the solution of peace - as the benevolent dictator that all worlds need." She dug her heels into her mare's sides, "We must hurry."
She longed to travel by starlight, but her party would not have been able to join her. And she would need them. Gandalf was right to join her in this quest.
The least she could do, however, was give strength to their mounts so they only needed to stop when they required rest. Rare indeed, given the composition of their party.
Durin tended to a smokeless fire that burned in white-hot coals, "How much farther, my lady?"
She took in their bearings. Many of the cities they passed had stood now since the Fourth Age - the age of conquerors and philosophers.
"We have passed through the region once belonging to one of the greatest Empires of Man. I believe we can ride for another fortnight and reach the valley we seek."
"We have left Middle Earth, then?" Legolas sat cross-legged at the fire.
Gandalf pulled out his pipe, packing it gruffly, "Indeed. In fact, we're not even within the protections of the Wizarding World. We are fully in the World of Men. South of Constantinople, if I'm not mistaken."
"You would be correct," Eldarion nodded, tending to the variety of horses and pony. He turned to Galadriel, "You intend for us to continue south to a valley broad, correct? Are you taking us to the great grasslands?"
She couldn't help but smile. "I see the prince is well-traveled. You've spent much time outside of Middle Earth in your two centuries, I suspect. Yes, we are going to the grasslands. A great witch called Helga resides there, known throughout the wizarding world for her acceptance and ability. The respect she commands will be necessary for our cause to succeed."
The others nodded in understanding. Gandalf puffed out some smoke rings before putting away the pipe. "I suppose we would do well to eat and rest, then. I shall take the first watch."
Galadriel nodded, settling against the rock face they'd camped next to for shelter. She'd not slept in more than a thousand years, instead falling into the dreamless rest her kind was capable of. Sleeping would mean dreams - temptations, what-ifs. If she was to face Sauron again, it would be strong and without doubt in her heart.
"You do not sleep." Legolas joined her, clearly not worried about disturbing her.
"When you have seen the tragedies I have, it is best not to." She turned to watch him, see if he understood.
His clear eyes gave away little, and she had little patience for reaching into his mind. "The only time I refused sleep was when I was brokenhearted. In time, I realized it was not a real love, only the infatuation of youth, and I was able to dream of home without regret."
"Home is across the seas for me - in the land of the Valar. Before the battle with Morgoth. Before the rise of Sauron - when elves first came to Middle Earth. I crossed the sea with my brother and we battled that great evil, defeating him and working to purge Middle Earth of all his followers until Sauron was all that was left."
She turned away, a quirk of her lips meant to be a smile. "We failed, as you must know."
Her companion stared into the coals of the fire, "And so you do not sleep."
"I do not sleep."
He stood and moved to unroll his bedroll a bit nearer to their fire, "Well, I will wish you a good night, my lady."
"Sleep well, Legolas."
***
Morning did not come as quickly as she would have liked. Even Gandalf required sleep after so long with mortals and she sent him to rest after the northern star had set and the night was at its deepest.
Visions of torture endured by those whose blood ran with the magic of Middle Earth plagued her, even in waking. The quiet of the night could not muffle the screams of witches and wizards whose only crime was being born in the world of men, elves, and dwarves - all because they were caught on the wrong side of an unseen border.
Sauron stoked fear, certainly, but this was something else entirely. This was a fervor that he likely hadn't needed to cultivate. All he would need to do was step in as their savior and they would flock to him.
Barely perceptible movement had her drawing her sword and spinning faster than most eyes could see. Her blade met Gandalf's staff with a high ringing sound that sent birds fleeing from the trees above them.
"I see your time as the Lady of Lothlorien has not dulled your instincts, Commander." He gave her a friendly smirk.
She sheathed her blade, "I have not been the commander of anyone in many millennia, Mithrandir. I am but the Lady Galadriel now."
Prince Durin huffed from below the cropping of rock she'd been perched on, "Never seen a Lady move like that. Not even a lady elf, not meaning any offense."
Legolas was fastening his supplies to his horse's saddle. "Lady Galadriel was the Commander of King Gil-Gilad's forces in the Battle against Morgoth in the First Age, before Sauron."
She moved past them to ensure her own pack was secure. "There is no before Sauron. He has existed since before the breaking of the first silence." His words echoed in her head - she could remember how he pleaded with her to be his queen that day.
Eons ago.
"How is that possible?" Eldarion huffed as he stamped out the hot coals, kicking dirt over them.
"There are many things that have always existed and will always continue to exist, young one. Sauron survived the destruction of his ring merely as an essence, a vapor in the wind, but he exists nonetheless." Gandalf swung himself up onto his draught horse, staff secured awkwardly like a jouster's lance. "The Lady Galadriel has lived nearly as long as the light itself. It is why she can be the keeper of the starlight and not go mad."
"You flatter me, Mithrandir. Especially since you yourself have no beginning."
Durin glared between the two of them suspiciously. "What does that mean?"
She twitched her lips into a brief smile. "Your wizard is no mortal, he first walked amongst the stars before joining us in Middle Earth. He will likely rejoin the stars when he is bored of us earth-bound creatures one day."
"Never! There are far too many adventures to be had here. Nothing but sunlight and moonlight up there. Terribly boring. Even your Valinor was too quiet."
Her horse took its place at the head of their party, "Oh, but to exist as starlight. How peaceful."
Legolas drew up next to her, "I have never believed that you truly desire peace, Lady Galadriel. Your spirit may well be as adventurous as Gandalf's."
"Believe as you will, young prince. When you have lived through the ages as I have, you will not expect others to know your heart either." She clucked and her mare began the next leg of their trek into the grasslands.
Ignotus closed his eyes against the cries and stomping feet out on the street of the Hollow. How could he, in good conscience, go help? His power had only stoked their fear.
Death. Death, indeed. A creature worse than death had granted their requests that night - given them powers they hadn't even dreamed of. Annatar, he called himself.
"Papa, they're going to burn her!" Little Iolanthe ran and nearly threw herself out the window next to him.
He tugged her away, "I know, I know, little one."
His small granddaughter glared up at him. "Well? Are you going to fix it? Isn't that your job?"
Ignotus sighed. No, it wasn't his job. But it was rapidly becoming his responsibility. "I suppose it is, Lanty." He moved to the hidden peg where his cloak was hanging. "Why don't you go back upstairs to bed and sleep before your daddy wakes up and worries?"
He waited for the patter of her small feet to fade before he disappeared under his greatest creation.
Once, magic had made it so that the fire did not hurt the wizarding kind. But these inquisitors had a new fire - a fire that burned through their magic and rendered them helpless to the pain. He had to suppose Annatar was to blame for that too.
The witch they were dragging was a beautiful woman, dressed in a deep blue velvet gown.
"Burn the witch!"
"Burn her!"
How did things like this happen in Godrick's Hollow? Godrick himself wouldn't tolerate it if he were there. But he wasn't. He was off somewhere in the Scottish highlands supposedly building some school.
Ignotus dodged a couple of onlookers. The last thing he needed was to stoke more fear.
The woman had been dragged to a hastily thrown-together pyre, which was really just a pole in a pre-dug hole with some tinder around her feet. But it didn't matter. The fire they were using would burn anything.
His best chance to stop this would be to get that fire.
It was kept in a flask - he'd seen it before in these horrific proceedings. He just had to wait for-
"Citizens of the Hollow!" the inquisitor, a middle-aged man with a pinched-up face walked into the center of the gathering with his arms raised, flask shining bright on his belt. "We have found another witch." He hissed out the last word as he turned dramatically to point to the woman tied to the wooden pole.
The woman, to her credit, pursed her lips in disdain, "You're making a tragic mistake. My mother is a very influential woman and she will see you hanged for this, whether I live or die. You've signed your own death warrants." Her voice had a heavy Scottish intonation.
The man stalked up to her, hands clutching some ornate cross hanging from a chain as he approached. "And, what, pray tell, is this mother's name of yours that I should be so afeared of her?"
"My mother is Rowena Ravenclaw, Lady of the Glen, and royal advisor to House Stewart."
There was muttering and whispering from the gathered crowd. The inquisitor knew he was losing them. "And does she know her daughter is a witch?" He turned away from the girl on the pyre and to the crowd, playing to them as he asked.
She scoffed, "What is it you think a witch is, sir? Some green-skinned thing with a cauldron and pointy hat?"
"You!" He growled and rounded on her, "I think it is you and what you are!"
"Me? Just me? Then put me to the flames and have done with it. Never burn another because you have found your witch, sir.
"Because if you cannot define what it is you are looking for and what it is you are fighting then I think you are just looking for anything and pointing and going 'ah! there it is!' every time you find something you don't like. And that is a very dangerous thing."
Ignotus had to admire this Ravenclaw girl. He'd heard of her mother - from Godrick, no less. "The most brilliant witch in history" he'd called her. Apparently, her daughter was much the same.
The crowd seemed to be appreciating her words. What is a witch? Why is it bad?
He snuck behind the pyre and loosened her hands. "Do you have your wand?" He whispered?
She used a finger to wag 'no.'
He sighed. "One of the crowd has it?" Her fist indicated 'yes.'
"The one who tied you?" 'No.'
"Alright playing a guessing game is going to be useless. I'll do it another way." He moved closer to the inquisitor, who was talking with the crowd about what a witch was.
"Don't witches use wands?" He shouted, making sure it sounded like it was coming from the crowd.
The inquisitor's eyes widened. "Yes! Yes, they do! Did she have a wand?"
One of the men from the crowd stepped forward, "All she had were these things." A sack was brought forth with her wand, a diamond circlet - practically a crown, and a shining necklace in the shape of a lily.
"She must have been telling the truth! Only someone noble would have such things! We'll hang for this," he whispered in the man's ear forcefully.
"It's true!"
"The king will come for us himself."
Fear rippled through the crowd as the bag was dropped like a hot coal.
"Calm yourselves!" the inquisitor roared. "The House of Stewart has no more love for witchcraft and wizardry than I."
A scoff came from the pyre. "Kings and queens have been keeping the counsel of diviners and spiritists as longs as there have been monarchies." All turned to look at her as she tugged her wrists loose and stepped over the pitiful pile of tinder at her feet. "People in power will continue to use my kind so long as there is power to be held."
She brushed her hands together and straightened her hair. That was when he noticed the slight tilt to her ears.
Elf. The necklace made sense, then. No wonder it emitted its own glow.
Stalking past the inquisitor roughly, she approached the crowd. "I have no quarrel with any of you. Give me my belongings and disperse and I shall ensure that there is no vengeance taken upon your homes and families."
The bag was thrown at her feet as the mutterings faded with the group until there were none but the three - only two who could be seen.
"You're clever for a witch, I'll give you that, girl." The inquisitor's pinched-up face was redder than he'd ever seen it.
She fastened her necklace on and disappeared both her wand and circlet somewhere into a pouch at her side. "You should meet my mother if you think I'm impressive. I had help, of course." Her eyes flicked in Ignotus' direction.
He panicked and spun slowly to ensure that he was fully under his cloak. He was, naturally. The elf-witch was likely just able to sense his magic, or perhaps the magic of his cloak.
"Help? Help! None in the Hollow would help a witch! We all watched as you magicked your way out of your bonds, and stepped off the pyre!" the stuffy inquisitor sputtered.
The Ravenclaw girl just hummed, "Did you? Or perhaps that was all you could see with your limited human eyes." She reached and tapped his nose, making him go cross-eyed. "There are things in this world that even my mother has yet to discover. And isn't that just exciting?" She pulled her hand back with a flourish and a grin, her wand appearing as she gestured precisely with it, whispering words that he could not quite catch.
The inquisitor's eyes lowered into a peaceful sleep as he slumped to the ground. She caught him effortlessly, and her wand again disappeared from her hands.
"It's safe for you to unveil yourself, friend."
Ignotus pulled off his cloak, "I've never met one who could see nor sense my cloak. How did you, Lady Ravenclaw?"
"Helena, please. And only once I had my mother's diadem again could I see the aura of its power. Before, you were just as invisible to me as you were to this miserable excuse of a human." She nudged the sleeping inquisitor with her foot.
He walked to stand next to her, "What did you do to him?"
"Weaved a dream from which he will wake up a better person." She turned to stare at him with critical eyes, "And who are you, that would use invisibility for good rather than cowardice?"
He barked out a dry laugh. "Oh, it was made for cowardice, certainly. Ignotus Peverell, the cowardly best friend to the bravest and greatest wizard of history-"
"Godrick Gryffindor, yes, yes. I know him. Mother speaks of him often." She clucked her tongue.
He nodded, "And I have heard of your mother. So, tell me, Helena, what is the daughter of the most brilliant witch in history doing in Godrick's Hollow?"
She flicked her hand and the flask that the inquisitor kept the strange fire in appeared. He glanced down and, sure enough, it was missing from the man's belt.
"I am collecting the Fire of Mordor. It does not belong in the Realm of Men nor can they control it."
Mordor.
"How-" Ignotus swallowed bile roughly down his throat. "How could such a thing make its way here?"
She closed her hand to let the flask fade off to wherever she kept things. "It would appear Mordor's master is awake. The Lady of Lorien has left the forest in search of those who would stand against him, but if men let loose this fire, there will be no world for the Lady Galadriel to save."
"Galadriel? How could you possibly-"
"My lover is with her. Another half-elf, like myself. He travels with her even now."
Ignotus stood straight, his cloak still draped over his arm. If Mordor was involved, then so was Annatar - the fire was likely made from his or his brothers' magic.
"If this fire is of Mordor, then I will help you. I have to."
Helena hummed. "I will not wait for you Peverell. I have a mission to complete."
He thought of Lanty and of the world she deserved - maybe she'd even get to go to that blasted school Godrick kept going on about.
"You won't have to. I'm quite familiar with the magicks of Mordor."