Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters and settings belong to J. K. Rowling. The Lord of the Rings and related mythology belong to the heirs of J. R. R. Tolkien.
A/N OK, this title is a little forced since I formulated myself. "Echil en" is Sindarin for "Heir of", "echil" being a reading of "heir". And of course, "Elessar" is Quenya for "Elf Stone". So basically, this chapter is "Heir of the Elf Stone", or more accurately, "Heir of Elessar". Basically, it shares the title with the story itself.
Chapter 3: Echil en Elessar
Back at Orodruin, the landscape was already changing. The erupting volcano was still surrounded by the Black Sea, hidden from view by the raging thunderstorms only the thunderstorms now hid something else also standing next to the volcano.
It was a dark, fortress tower, standing an immense mile tall. Ramparts, dungeons, turrets, majestic halls, so much of everything filled this great tower now occupied by power-hungry Death Eaters and soul-sucking Dementors, alongside Orcs. Long ago, this same tower stood in this exact spot but had been destroyed along with the fall of its master. Now, it had been rebuilt once more, its foundations reestablished. It had been known by many names in the past but the common of tem all was Barad-dur, the Dark Tower. And once again, after millennia, its old master was seated within its top floor, merged with another.
On a black and gold, cobra head shaped throne at the very top floor of Barad-dur, Voldemort-Sauron was seated, starring pensively at the shadows of the chamber around him.
"We are amazed at how much more powerful the Numenoreans have grown after all this time," he said to himself in both voices. "To be able to rebuild the tower in a matter of hours, not even the Elves could accomplish such a feat: how much advantage it gives to our position."
The Dark Lord noticed something stirring from the shadows before him. Without hesitation he said, "Come." Eight figures of pure and utter dread walked out of the shadows. Their close resemblance to Dementors was uncanny, from their black, hooded robes, and the frosty breath sucking out all things positive around them. Yet, these eight were clearly far more powerful than the Dementors: they carried great swords worthy of kings, their hands were covered in gauntlets, and they had metallic boots. They carried themselves with a strong sense of pride and royalty, yet all eight of them bowed down when they came in front of the seated Voldemort-Sauron.
The Dark Lord looked at the eight, robed figures feeling very pleased. "Most excellent, our greatest of servants have returned from the shadow, ready to serve us once more. Behold the Nazgul!" The eight robed figures, the Nazgul stood up to face their master. Voldemort-Sauron's tone changed instantly however. "Yet, nine rings there were and only eight have returned. Tell us, where is the Witch-King of Angmar for he was the greatest of all of you."
The Nazgul looked among themselves whispered murmurs coming from them. They looked ready to answer when their master raised his hand and said, "No, we recall now. He was destroyed by the shield-maiden of the Rohirrim while the rest of you were swept away into the shadow when the Ring was destroyed." The Dark Lord extended his hand forward and muttered a spell. A single ring materialized in the out-stretched hand. "It is of no matter to us," he said. "We shall simply present this ring to the most promising of the young Death Eaters. Eventually, there will be nine Nazgul once again." Placing the Ring on a nearby table, the Dark Lord looked toward the Nazgul again and said, "Go and do my bidding. You know what we wish. Four of you search for the heir. The remaining four gather the Orcs for the missions." The Ring-wraiths bowed once more before disappearing again into the shadow.
The Dark Lord slouched back onto his throne, gaining a far away look in his eyes. Suddenly he spoke in Voldemort's voice, "Why do you fear this line so much? Why is it so necessary to send four of them to search for the heir of this line when we could have all eight of them commanding the Orcs for the missions?"
The Dark Lord then said, this time in Sauron's voice, "Is it so wrong to fear something, to be cautious? You fear this man Albus Dumbledore and this boy Harry Potter. I fear the heir of this one lineage. It would be wise to learn of it in this day."
"Certainly this lineage would've died out by now? It has been so long," said the voice of Voldemort.
In return, the voice of Sauron replied, "If there is one thing I have learned, it is that the lineage of the Kings of Numenor never dies out. How many times have I been defeated and humiliated by that line." The Dark Lord looked up and started reminiscing. "It goes all the way back to the First Age. To Luthien, the Elf maiden; it was she who defeated and humiliated me before my very tower. During the Second Age it was Elendil the Tall who defied me in Numenor and once again Elendil who along with Erenion Gil-Galad brought me down in front of this very tower. And it was Elendil's son Isildur who took up the broken sword Narsil and cut the Ring from my finger!" The Dark Lord unconsciously clutched at the Ring. "And finally during the Third Age, it was Aragorn Elessar who deceived me, turning my attention away from the Halflings that had infiltrated Mordor. To this day, I still cannot believe they cast the Ring into the Cracks of Doom; how could they cast ultimate power away so easily?" He gripped the side of his throne and spoke once more in two voices, "But know this, if the Heir of Elessar has indeed survived to this day, we shall crush him!" With a crunch, the Dark Lord's hand crushed the side of the throne.
* * *
"Ah, Harry, welcome, make yourself at home," said Dumbledore as Harry Potter entered his office followed by Hermione, "and Miss Granger. Please sit down." Harry and Hermione looked at each other as they sat down in the two comfortable chairs in front of Dumbledore's desk. Professor McGonagall sat down in one of the seats along the wall next to Professor Angnathron who was smoking a pipe. "Would either of you like some tea? Some sherbet lemons perhaps?" offered Dumbledore. "If either of you are hungry I could ask Dobby to fix us a quick meal."
Through the corner of his eye, Harry saw McGonagall roll her eyes and Angnathron start puffing on his pipe impatiently. Harry looked at Hermione catching her eye, clearly noticing that she was thinking the exact same thing he was: Dumbledore was stalling for time.
Harry cleared his voice and said, "Professor why exactly have we been called up here?"
Dumbledore sighed wearily and said, "I suppose there is no beating around the brush for you Harry." He looked up at Fawkes whom had silently started singing and said, "Harry, I owe you another apology."
"What? Why sir?" asked Harry.
"An apology Harry for I have once again withheld vital information from you."
Harry felt a familiar flaring of anger grow within him but suppressed it when he felt Hermione's eyes on him, begging him to restrain. "What is it that you withheld from me Professor?"
"Ah, technically I only withheld half of the information, the less vital part of it," answered Dumbledore. "To be specific I didn't tell you the latter half of Sybill Trelawney's first prophecy."
"Latter half?" explained both Harry and Hermione at once. "Why didn't you tell me the entire prophecy two years ago?" asked Harry, his voice more curious than accusatory.
"Because at the time, the latter half did not really have anything to do with Voldemort," said Dumbledore. McGonagall flinched but the others remained passive. "Only the first half of the prophecy was stored in the Department of Mysteries, the latter half didn't seem of much consequence since at the time we didn't know if it referred to you or Neville Longbottom. The latter half of the prophecy has more to do with the Harry's life after Voldemort should he emerge victorious."
"So why are you telling Harry the latter half now?" asked Hermione. "I assume that is what you are doing."
"Correct you are Miss Granger," said Dumbledore. He turned to Harry and continued, "Why now? That would be because recent events have necessitated a need for the return of the King, your majesty."
For a brief moment, very was complete silence in the office before both Harry and Hermione shouted, "WHAT?!"
"Mind your manners. You are before the Headmaster," snapped McGonagall. Hermione sank back into her chair looking sheepish and shocked. Harry just sat there in a daze.
"What did you call me?" he asked.
Dumbledore answered, "Your majesty, the king," the twinkle back in his eye.
Harry and Hermione said nothing, both of them looking completely shell-shocked. Dumbledore walked over to his Pensieve and stirred up a memory with his wand. Slowly, the image of Sybill Patricia Trelawney faded into view and started speaking:
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives...the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...
For he shall be the Heir of the Elf Stone, of kingdoms long since past... The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord shall be the heir of kings long since gone... And the Empires and Kingdoms of old shall be reestablished, whichever one survives... The Dark Lord shall wield the Ring and the Heir shall wield the sword reforged... for either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... for either of the kingdoms shall be reestablished for neither can stand while the other reigns... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord, the Heir of the Elf Stone, will be born as the seventh month dies..."
To say the least, Harry and Hermione were completely perplexed. "There's something about all that sounds so familiar," muttered a dazed Hermione, losing herself in thought.
"Well I had absolutely no idea what the heck all that was about!" exclaimed Harry, on the verge of hyperventilating. "Elf Stone? Empires and Kingdoms? Sword reforged? HAVE I LOST ALL SENSE OF REASON HERE?" Snapping back to reality, Hermione started soothing Harry by rubbing his back. Harry quickly calmed down.
Angnathron took another puff of his pie and said, "Perhaps a history lesson, Dumbledore?"
"A most excellent idea," said Dumbledore. He stood up and started pacing, clearly in a teaching mode. "Perhaps the best place to start would be from the beginning, from the very origins of modern day wizards and witches. Tell me have either of you heard of a land called Atlantis?"
"Of course we have, Headmaster," said Hermione. "Basically, it was a great island that sunk beneath the ocean. The Atlantic Ocean is named for Atlantis because that's where it is believed to have existed. The philosopher Plato describes Atlantis as..." Hermione quickly realized she was sprouting useless information and said, "But isn't it only a legend?"
"Ah, but all legends have a basis in truth Hermione," said Dumbledore, winking at her. "In the case of Atlantis, the legends are very true. The land may be remembered as 'Atlantis' now but its more proper name is Numenor. It was the greatest kingdom of the race of men, or in this politically correct world, the race of humans there ever was. Yet, in their splendor and might, the Numenoreans became arrogant, greedy, and ultimately were corrupted. They dared to make war on the Angelic powers that ruled this world and were destroyed. The saying is that the Angels called on God and God destroyed the island. Something to that affect.
"Naturally, there were many Numenoreans who remained faithful to the Angelic powers: the Faithful. Their leader was a member of the Royal family, Elendil the Tall and he led the Faithful away from Numenor as it was being destroyed in nine ships. Basically, they landed in Europe and Elendil and his sons established two kingdoms: Arnor and Gondor."
"OK," said Harry hesitantly. "So what does 'Heir of the Elf Stone' mean?"
"The more accurate term would be 'Heir of Elesar'," said Dumbledore. "Elf Stone or Elessar would be referring to Aragorn Elessar Telcontar, the greatest king of men there ever was. He reunited Gondor and Arnor and established the age where men came to dominate Europe and the world. The Royal family may have eventually dwindled out but the Numenoreans certainly didn't."
"Oh?" asked both Harry and Hermione.
"Indeed. Modern day wizards and witches are the descendants of the Numenoreans. Yes, that includes Muggleborns as well Miss Granger; so many of the Numenoreans intermarried with common humans that the Numenorean blood flows in all humans. That is why Muggleborns spring up from Muggles," said Dumbledore. "Of course, in ancient days Numenoreans lived up to 600 years while modern wizards only live about 200 years. On the other hand, our magical powers have vastly improved from those days."
"So why are you telling me this now?" asked Harry.
"Because Voldemort has reawakened a vast evil," said Dumbledore. "You see Harry, believe it or not this there are many supernatural beings in this world beyond what you have seen in your Care of Magical Creatures classes. Perhaps the most powerful of these are the Maiar: known in common terminology as 'angels'. Of course, let's not forget about evil Maiar, 'demons'."
"Angels?" asked Harry and Hermione. Dumbledore nodded.
"I haven't heard of this part," said McGonagall. "What is it you are trying to tell us Albus?"
Dumbledore sighed. "One of the most powerful demons ever was a fire Maiar. He was the Sorcerer Dark Lord Sauron, Necromancer of Dol Guldar, Lord of the Rings. It was he who led to the destruction of Numenor by deceiving them and he spread so much terror throughout the lands before he was deceived in return by Aragorn Elessar and was destroyed." Dumbledore sighed again and said, "Voldemort has revived Sauron and merged with him. Sauron fears the Heir of Elessar above all others. Voldemrot is obsessed with destroying Harry. Most convenient that they happen to be the same person does it not?"
Harry still looked a little shell-shocked. Hermione perked up and said, "Um Professor, is there any way we can really, I mean really confirm that Harry is well... the long lost king?"
"Ah, this lass is very straight to the point," said Angnathron. "She's right though. Dumbledore, you'll have to take Potter to the White City."
"Ah good idea," said Dumbledore. He picked up and a quill on his desk, pointed his wand at it and said, "Portus." He turned to McGonagall and Angnathron and said, "Please excuse Harry from his classes as we will probably be gone a few days."
"You got it laddie," said Angnathron. McGonagall nodded her consent.
Still dazed, Harry turned to Hermione who was lost in thought. "Er... I guess I'll see you in a few days."
"What?" Hermione snapped to attention. "Oh, of course. Take care, Harry."
"Um, would you mind telling good bye to Ron for me?"
"OK. Shall I tell him about all this?"
"NO!" exclaimed Harry. "Er, no. Please, just keep it quiet until I can make some sense of it. I'll tell him myself then."
"OK," said Hermione. She drew Harry into a tight hug. "Be careful, all right?" she whispered.
"I will," said Harry, hugging her back. He disengaged himself from Hermione and walked over to Dumbledore.
"Ready Harry?" the venerable headmaster asked.
"As ready as I'll ever be," said Harry. He touched the quill and in an instant, he and Dumbledore were gone."
* * *
Harry tumbled onto the grass. "Ugh, I never did like traveling by portkey," he muttered.
"It does take some getting used to," said Dumbledore as he helped Harry up. Harry looked around and the first thing he noticed was the vast temperature difference: it was much warmer here than in Scotland. Also, the lack of snow suggested that they were no longer in Britain.
In answer to Harry's unasked question, Dumbledore said, "We are about 3 miles north of Florence, Italy. This area is charmed to repel muggles, similar to the charms used at the Quidditch World Cup and Hogwarts. Now come."
Dumbledore led Harry up a hill, the poor boy still wondering what was going on. At the top of the hill, Harry received one more shock so big, his jaw dropped.
In the distance built into a mountain was a city: a white city. It was a huge fortress of white marble, built in seven levels all going higher up the mountain. At the top level was a white tower the shone brightly like the sun. In all his life, Harry had never seen anything so incredible in his life.
"Welcome Harry," said Dumbledore, "to Minas Tirith: the sole all wizard city in the world and the last existing citadel of ages long past."
To be continued...
A/N OK, here's chapter 3. I'm having a hard time finding time to write this stuff because some new Marines came in, who happen to be computer users themselves (unlike before where I was the only computer geek around). So I can't monopolize the computers anymore. But I'll still find time to write, no worries.