Epilogue

AN: I just have to say that I'm rather surprised that all y'all let me get away with such a cheesy ending. Elipsa laughed and asked me if I was seriously ending the story that way. The thing is, once that ending was written I just couldn't manage to get away from it.

Anyhow, the story officially ended at Chapter 17. That was all I had planned for. This chapter was only supposed to be the epilogue that I hadn't quite written. Only folks liked the story. That both shocked me and made me all warm n squishy inside.

That said, I thought I'd give it a try and continue the story, but honestly my stupid writer's block refuses to go away so I can write. Instead, I've given in to the stubborn brick wall and wrapped up what needed to be covered. The first part of this chapter was written to continue the story. I had fun writing it so you get to read the beginning of what could have been, but refused to be told (kicks the writer's block brick wall). Starting at 'It's a Tree' is the actual planned epilogue.

Sorry it took so long and I hope it is worthy of you, the readers.

Lord of Carrion: What you suggested would truly be an epic battle, but again my limited lore knowledge could never do something like that justice. If you ever decide to write it, I'd be more than happy to read and review.

burntblood.1982: A dark version? Wow… honestly, I probably can't. At least not well. I've never written a Dark!Harry story before. On the other hand, Elipsa wants to hurt you because she now has another story rattling around in her head, which I - naturally - am encouraging her to write. *insert maniacal laughter here*

Reminder: Parseltongue is written: "like this."

Oh and this hasn't yet been proof read.

Not-orc Sad

Once the One Ring was destroyed, followed soon afterwards with Sauron's demise, the evil forces - orcs, trolls and goblins - were scattered, dead or hiding. Éomer had dispersed the troops that had marched with the Fellowship to the Black Gate, sending them home or back to carry on their obligations to their cities. The Third Marshall had charged them all to remain diligent in their duty and to kill any orcs or goblins that crossed their path.

Éomer then accompanied the Fellowship back to Minas Tirith along with his riders. Merry rode with Éomer, Pippin rode with Gandalf, Sam rode with Aragorn and Frodo - much to Sam's dismay - flew back with Harry.

"Tasties hunt Andúnë?" The hell-hawk asked, apparently she was a bit leery about flying too close to the white city - not that Harry could blame her.

"Maybe," Harry hadn't given their approach much forethought and considering how badly the army greeted her arrival, perhaps a hell-hawk arriving at Minas Tirith in the middle of the night wasn't such a grand idea. The wizard decided to have Andúnë land out of reach of any arrows, not willing to take any chances with her well-being. "We better land here. I can take him the rest of the way."

"Not-orc sad," Andúnë commented when Harry slid from her shoulders. "Dark gone. Time for sing, hunt, play. Not-orc need play."

"Erm… Yes, I suppose he does." Harry wasn't going to argue with her, besides how exactly does one explain shock, regret, denial and mourning to a hell-hawk? Andúnë crouched lower in order to aid the wizard in easing the hobbit off of her shoulders. Frodo was unresponsive again, once more allowing his body to be manipulated like a ragdoll. The wizard sighed in frustration, but turned his attention back to Andúnë. "I may need to go back. Are you okay to fly back tonight to fetch Sam… erm, the other not-orc?"

"Yes. Little rider light, no big metal. Andúnë fly little rider to not-orc friend." The hell-hawk huffed in Frodo's direction and nudged the hobbit with her blunt nose with a reprimand of, "No sad!"

Harry grinned at her antics, but the humor slipped away when he addressed the sad not-orc, "Frodo, Andúnë can't fly us to Minas Tirith without frightening the people or endangering lives." When Harry still received no reaction or response, the wizard gritted his teeth to refrain from growling. "Fine, you don't have to speak to me, but you need to hang onto my arm. I'm going to apparate us to the House of Healing."

Frodo still didn't react, didn't grab hold of the arm that was extended towards him and Harry huffed. "You're really going to make this difficult when all I've been trying to do is help?" That gained a reaction from the brunette, just not the one the wizard had wanted. Frodo stubbornly looked away from him, staring unblinkingly towards the burning corpses in the distance. Harry was near the end of his good nature and bit out, "You're wrong if you think I'm going to mollycoddle you. I'm not Gandalf. I'm not Sam. And I'm bloody well tired of you acting like a two year old.

"Now grab my arm and let's go." Harry stared incredulously at Frodo who still refused to cooperate. Perhaps the hobbit just didn't understand how dangerous apparation was. The wizard dropped his arm and frowned, "Apparating is the fastest form of magical travel. You move from one place to another within a moment's time. This form of travel can also be done with what is called side-along, meaning I can bring you with me, but you have to hold on tightly to my arm or I can hold onto you, but you must cooperate, meaning you have to trust me to take you where we need to be and not fight me."

Still not gaining any reaction, not a positive one at any rate, Harry growled out a last warning, "When I apparate us and you fight me in any way, mentally or physically, we could be splinched. Splinching is when a part of your body is left behind. It can be something as small as a strip of skin or as horrible as half of your body. It's happened to others in the past and I refuse to take that risk."

Harry could see Frodo's outline in the light granted by the full moon and the burning corpses in the distance. The hobbit must have heard the wizard's warning, because the brunette was trembling, but was still stubbornly ignoring Harry. "Still refusing to see reason, I see. Fine, we'll do this the hard way then."

Frodo whipped around as Harry pulled his wand with ease. The hobbit raised a hand is if to ward off the magic, but the silent Petrificus Totalus hit the hobbit causing him to stiffen - arms slapped to his side, head forced forward, legs together and straight – like a statue and topple over. The wizard was so annoyed with the hobbit that he didn't bother catching Frodo before he hit the ground with a small thud. Ignoring the odd hissing giggles and Frodo's frightened yet glaring eyes, Harry grabbed the hobbit statue and apparated.

The sudden 'pop' and appearance of a wizard holding a magically bound statue hobbit had the folks - healers, workers and patience - in the House of Healing in a panic. Harry caught the woman's gaze and attempted to calm her, "He's fine. Sort of…"

Healer Ioreth huffed at the wizard - she reminded Harry of Madam Pomfrey with her gray hair in a bun, white smock and disapproving, yet slightly amused, glare - he simply grinned sheepishly for his abrupt arrival. She - naturally - reprimanded Harry, "Must you make such an entrance, Mr. Potter? And I take it from your odd statement that this isn't a statue, but an actual patient." When Harry nodded quickly she continued, "Then who is this child and where are his parents?"

Bergil, the eldest son of the guard captain, bobbed excitedly - up and down, up and down - on the balls of his feet, "That ain't no child, ma'am. That there is one of them hobbits; like Merry, that visited with us to find out how ta heal up his friends, and Pip. Is Pippin back, too?"

"Thanks, Bergil. It's nice to see you, too." Harry teased. Ioreth motioned towards an empty bed and Harry grabbed Frodo's shoulders while Bergil grabbed the hobbit's feet.

"Sorry, Harry." Bergil blushed and helped Harry move Frodo onto the bed. "I'm glad you're back safe. Are the others okay?"

"They were when I left them a few hours ago. They didn't make it to the Black Gate before it was all over. Pippin isn't back in Minas Tirith yet, since the rest of them are traveling on horseback and I flew." Harry waved his wand and canceled the curse on Frodo. The hobbit's eyes flashed with anger and he glared at Harry. The wizard wasn't intimidated by the small male and reasoned, "I warned you and you refused to listen. There are always consequences, a reaction to an action - or in your case an inaction. Just be sure you listen to Healer Ioreth." Harry then ignored the hobbit to speak with the woman standing beside him, "Madam Ioreth, this is Frodo Baggins. As Bergil mentioned, he's a full grown male hobbit, not a boy."

Harry bit back the unnecessary personal opinion over the hobbit's childish behavior and continued, "Physically, the patient is stable. Merry and I followed your orders plying him and his traveling companion with plenty of water in small dosages and began his new eating regimen with broth, gradually upgrading to soft foods. He is still on a restricted diet as you directed.

"I administered three healing potions over a week's time. Used a healing salve on what appeared to be abrasions around his neck, shoulders and chest. There was a previous stabbing injury to the chest near his heart that had been healed, but contained residual dark magic. I was able to release the majority of said dark magic, but couldn't…" His words tapered off when he saw the blank look on the woman's face. Ioreth was an excellent healer, but she knew nothing of magic. He gave a sharp nod, dropping all mention of magic and continued his assessment.

"Mentally…" Harry's hands clenched, "The patient is in shock. He was locked in a battle of wills with Sauron over the Ring's fate…"

Frodo made a piteous noise, curled up on side into a fetal position and mentally shut down again. Harry sighed heavily, rolling his eyes and stuffed his hands into his pocket to keep from throttling the hobbit that was wallowing in self-pity. The young man frowned and suddenly looked a bit deflated, "I can't do this, Madam Ioreth. I just don't have the patience for…" Harry gestured towards Frodo, "this kind of behavior. Maybe I'm not meant to be a healer."

"Nonsense," Ioreth patted his arm gently before seeing to Frodo. "A healer can choose their field of healing. Some only focus on the body while others focus solely on the mind. Compassion comes with experience. You're still quite young. Just give it time."

Harry groused, but refrained from his usual comment about being of age - after all, the woman said he was young not a child - and opted for leaving instead, "His friend Sam seems to get through to him. I'm flying back to get him."

"That's a fine idea," Ioreth agreed before pulling a blanket over Frodo and tucking him in. "Do not fret, Mr. Potter. Mr. Baggins is in good hands."

"Thank you, Madam Ioreth." The wizard didn't wait for any further instructions and popped back out to Pelennor Fields where he had left the hell-hawk.

Harry looked around and soon spotted her flying over the burning corpses of the mûmakil. The mournful song she sang, took Harry by surprise. He hadn't thought of the hissing, killer hell-hawk as a songbird. Harry listened to the words and was further astounded that the song wasn't a dirge for the great beasts. Conjuring a seat, Harry waited until Andúnë was done with her warbling tribute to her fallen nestling.

With her accolade completed, Andúnë flew back to where Harry waited for her. Her shoulders dipped and Harry clambered into position. Knowing how inept he was at the emotional aspect of human nature, Harry chose to keep his opinion of what he had witnessed to himself, "Let's go find the other not-orc."

"Hunt!" Andúnë exclaimed excitedly. She took to the sky with two strong flaps of her immense wings and soon they were soaring over the field below.

"Erm, you do know we aren't going to kill Sam, yeah?"

"Hunt to find not kill is still hunt."

"Huh… yeah okay, fair enough. Let's hunt Sam."

Andúnë let out what could only be described as an odd, hissing, girlish screech of excitement and flew towards the Black Gate.

The sun had set long ago and the moon hung brightly - full and pearlescent - in the inky sky filled with hundreds if not millions of stars that dotted the darkness with points of blinking light. The air was fresh, crisp and chilled as it rushed past them. The only sound was the flapping of Andúnë's wings, Harry's racing heartbeat and the wind that whipped at the flying pair.

Harry was lost in his thoughts, trusting Andúnë to carry them safely back to the where the Fellowship was camped for the night. His task was complete. Once again the Vanquisher wasn't needed. Harry wasn't needed. His brow furrowed at that thought. On one hand, it was a relief to not be needed to fight. On the other hand, the idea of being obsolete yet again wasn't exactly pleasant either.

Sam had suggested that Harry could live out his life there in Middle Earth; that he wasn't alone and although he had no family, he did have friends. Merry had grinned and nodded in agreement to his friend's comments, but Harry still had trust issues. That wasn't entirely correct. The wizard sighed softly. Harry didn't have trust issues; he had trouble opening himself up to people, allowing them a place in his heart as he had with his friends on Earth like Remus and Sirius, only to lose them in war.

The wizard blinked. The war was over. Sauron was vanquished. The One Ring was destroyed. What excuse did he have to cling to that old fear? Why couldn't Harry start a life here, explore Middle Earth and…

He missed his home. No, Harry didn't have a home, not really. He had Hogwarts, he had Dudley's second bedroom at the Dursley house and he owned Grimmauld Place that was so dark and dreary - not to mention it still reminded him too much of Sirius. And even if it wasn't technically his home, he missed the Burrow.

He missed his friends. His best friends Ron and Hermione and his good friends Neville, George, Fred, Ginny, Luna…

No, not Luna; he didn't miss her. He didn't have to miss her since she was there. She was on Middle Earth and she wasn't Luna.

Harry sighed. That was something he still had to resolve: Luna's betrayal.

Was it fair to label what Luna had done as betrayal? Betray by definition was: to help the enemy, surrender somebody, go against a promise or reveal a secret. Luna didn't do any of those things. She had taken him from his world, everything he knew… every one he knew and forced him to become…

No, that wasn't quite right either. Luna didn't force Harry to become anything. Harry simply slipped into the role of Vanquisher because that was something he knew. Being the Vanquisher was a role he was familiar with. Bloody hell, Harry didn't even question the role asked of him. Middle Earth needed him to become their Vanquisher and Harry, being the typical Gryffindor, helped because it was the right thing to do.

Still, Luna didn't ask him if he would come to Middle Earth. Harry was kidnapped.

Would Harry have come if Luna had asked? Harry couldn't say yes or no. There was a chance he'd refuse. A very large chance, especially if he knew he couldn't go back home, but ultimately, he simply wasn't given a choice and that in itself was something Harry was having trouble reconciling.

"Tasties ahead," Andúnë said, breaking the silence.

Sure enough, Harry spotted the campfire below and felt the hell-hawk descend. Harry quickly sent his patronus to announce their arrival. The silver creature ran off towards the campsite and pranced around the fire before nudging each of the hobbits with its cold nose. By the time Harry had walked up to the fire, the stag evaporated.

"Welcome back." Legolas greeted.

"Thanks," Harry gave a small grin to the tall elf, "I sent Prongs because I didn't want anyone to panic. Most folks still aren't too keen about a hell-hawk flying near and the last thing I want is for someone to shoot an arrow at her."

"Harry," Aragorn came up and gripped the young man's shoulder in greeting, giving it a gentle squeeze before releasing him. Harry blinked when the realization hit him: he didn't jerk or shy away from the man's touch. Perhaps he was growing accustomed to these folks after all. The ranger hadn't appeared to notice Harry's sudden quiet self-evaluation as he continued speaking, "We didn't expect you to come back so-"

"Is Frodo okay?" Gandalf interrupted. Apparently Aragorn was taking too long to get to that question for the old wizard's taste.

"He's the same, healthy yet unresponsive," Harry looked around at those waiting for him to continue speaking and shrugged when his gaze landed on the sandy haired hobbit, "I came back for Sam. He was able to reach Frodo before and I'm hoping he can again."

"Mr. Frodo needs me?" Sam clambered to his feet immediately, "I'm ready. Let's go."

"We'll leave in the morning, Sam. Frodo is resting in the Halls of Healing." Harry couldn't help but smile at the hobbit's devotion to his friend and eagerness to help. The wizard jerked his thumb in a vague, general direction behind him, "Besides, Andúnë needs to rest and hunt. I told her to come back at daybreak."

The night was still and dark as the camp settled down to rest before they continued their journey, but Harry found that, regardless of how exhausted he felt, he couldn't get comfortable enough to sleep. Finally giving up, Harry moved away from the others to the edge of the light offered by the small campfires and opened up his bag.

"Is something wrong?"

Harry jumped in surprise, waited for his heart to slow the fast staccato pounding in his chest before trying to respond - providing his voice cooperated - and blinked at the elf. With his hand still clutching his chest, the young man gawked at Legolas, "Buggering hell, where did you come from?"

"I'm on guard duty." As if that was answer enough, but really didn't answer the question at all. The elf didn't even try to hide his amusement, "now answer my question: Is something wrong?"

"No, not really," Harry pulled his tent from the school bag, "I'm just having trouble getting comfortable. I think the time spent healing up Frodo and Sam spoiled me."

With a tap of his wand, the tent expanded and set up magically. Legolas frowned and looked around in the darkness, "Your tent may draw unwanted attention."

"It won't be up for long," Without another word of explanation, Harry entered the tent and looked around. He set his bag down on the table just as an idea bloomed. Grinning, the wizard tugged a mattress out of the tent flap.

Standing near the small campfire, Harry began duplicating the mattress gaining attention from those around him. Gimli grunted and asked, "What are ya doin'?"

"Duplicating mattresses. You see, I'm not about to sleep on the hard ground if I don't have to. And it would be utterly rude of me not to share, since I can." Harry motioned the hobbits over after having made the first three mattresses, but the three chattering, scheming cherub-looking folks stood, grinned at him and opted for the tent instead. The wizard half-heartedly called out so the hobbits could hear, "I hadn't intended to keep the tent up!" He chuckled, shook his head in amusement and said with resignation, "but it doesn't seem I have much of a choice now."

"Fine wi' me, lad." Gimli snorted, helping himself to one of the mattresses that he had been testing for softness. The dwarf moved closer to the fire and flopped gracelessly onto the large cushion with a sigh of contentedness.

"This tent is a white target, a beacon in the darkness. It begs for trouble." Legolas strode a few feet away to peer into the darkness from a different perspective.

"I can hide it when I'm done making enough mattresses for anyone that wants one." Harry glanced up from duplicating the mattresses to take in his surroundings as best he could, "If the area isn't too large, I can actually ward the entire camp. It would give us some protection."

"Not a bad idea. Added safety would be welcomed," Éomer stated as he approached. "And these cushions -"

"Mattresses," corrected Harry.

"- are for the use of the men?" Éomer ignored the correction and continued, "From the sound of the dwarf's snoring, they are quite comfortable."

The commotion near the fire had indeed gained the attention of the riders. The murmurs were growing a bit louder and Harry grinned into the darkness towards the direction of the sound. "Yes, I intend to make one for each person who would like a bit of comfort tonight. Just keep in mind; I will be reversing the spell in the morning before I leave." Harry gave Éomer a single shoulder shrug and went back to work duplicating the mattress, "Can't leave rubbish lying around. It's bad for the environment."

"Harry…"

The young wizard recognized the man's voice without having to look up, but he refused to cow to his will. "No lectures tonight, Gandalf. You won't change mind on this," Harry duplicated the mattress again, refraining from giving the elderly wizard his full attention. Éomer motioned for the nearest Rohan rider to take a duplicate as the process continued, "They'll only last for a fortnight or until I reverse the spell and - as I already stated - I'll do that in the morning. These men," Gimli snorted and rolled over while smacking his lips as if he had just drank a tasty ale, "dwarves, hobbits and elf have more than earned a hero's welcome when they get home. Why should they be treated any less out here when I can give them this one small luxury?"

Éomer watched with amusement as his riders eagerly lined up for a magicked mattress, passing them back - one by one - to the next person as if in a factory line. "My men appreciate your kindness, wizard… Harry."

The young wizard's head snapped up from his self-appointed task at the sound of his name and grinned widely at Éomer. It was the first time the Third Marshall ever said his name. Harry finished creating the last requested mattress with a warmness that bloomed in his chest. "I'm glad I can help."

Éomer gave a small nod of thanks before he joined his men. Harry looked around the campsite to ensure no one else required a mattress when he noted Legolas was once again standing beside him with a small half grin, "You have done much for the men of this land, Istar. Many owe you their lives and don't even know your name."

"I'd rather keep it that way."

"It isn't just the men, Harry. Elves, dwarves, hobbits alike, all of Middle Earth owes you gratitude-"

"Legolas," Harry interrupted. The young man took a haggard breath and combed his fingers through his hair as he struggled to make his feelings clear, "All my life I was known for something I didn't do. I simply survived. I don't want to be known for this. Frodo was the ring bearer; he is the hero of Middle Earth. Frodo destroyed the ring. Not me."

The elf met the wizard's gaze and held it for a long moment. Legolas gave a small nod, "If that is your wish."

"So…" Harry looked around, searching for a new topic when his eyes fell upon the tent. "How big is the camp area?"

A distant screech caught the wizard's attention. Soon Harry was stretching, blinking the sleep from his eyes and scratching his head, not bothering to stifle his yawn. The young man sat up on his mattress, bent one leg as the other curled before him and squinted at the early morning sky.

A white speck grew larger and the sight warmed Harry from the inside. When his familiar landed gracefully on his knee, Harry grinned at her, "Hello, Hedwig. Did you have a nice visit with Luna?"

The snowy owl hooted once. Harry stroked her soft feathers with a familiar sense of foreboding when Hedwig gently nipped at her human's finger and offered him a letter. The wizard stared at the parchment warily. The last time he read something given to him by Luna he had ended up in Middle Earth. There was no telling if it was another portkey to send him elsewhere or if it was just a simple letter.

"Harry?" Gandalf made his way towards the young wizard and crouched beside him, "Do you think Hedwig could make her way to Imladris if she's never been there before?"

"She's a brilliant owl and trained to find mail recipients." Hedwig hooted a reprimand at her human for ignoring the letter tied to her leg. Harry grinned at the bird, "Sorry, girl."

"If she is willing, I'd like to get a letter to Lord Elrond. I believe sending word with her would be immensely swifter than by messenger. He will need to hear of our success and our return to Minas Tirith."

Harry accepted the rolled scroll from Hedwig as he pondered Gandalf's request, "While this isn't our world, she has never failed to deliver mail. What do you think, Hedwig?"

Hedwig canted her head at Gandalf as if measuring the elderly wizard and gently nipped at her human again. Harry grinned, "She'll carry it. If you're expecting a response, she will wait for that as well."

"No." The man chuckled, "No, a response isn't necessary or expected." Gandalf stated distractedly. Harry looked over at the old wizard who was searching for something in the folds of his robes.

"Gandalf," Harry dug in his school bag, dug out parchment, ink and quill. "You can use these."

"Ah, thank you." Gandalf then looked around and frowned.

"There's a table inside the tent."

"Right," The elderly wizard frowned at the white fabric portable housing. Emotions had warred upon his features before he stood, still holding the borrowed items, and made his way into the tent. His voice faded as the tent flap closed, "My word…"

No sooner had the flap closed, it was opened again and Gandalf called out, "Harry, if you have a spare moment…"

The tent flap dropped back into place and Harry sprung up off the mattress, grabbing his wand. It wasn't what the elderly wizard had said, it was the urgency in Gandalf's voice that had Harry rushing towards his tent.

It took the young wizard less than a minute to cross from his mattress to the tent entrance, but within that time Harry's mind was reeling. What could have caused Gandalf to worry? What could have possibly happened last night or this morning in that tent that the elderly wizard couldn't have handled?

Harry took a quick mental inventory of the tent: bedrooms, beds, linens, pillows, dressers, clothing; common area, dining table, chairs, sofa, squashy chairs, coffee table, rugs, decorative pillows; kitchen, sink, stove, cabinets, flatware, silverware, glassware, drinks, food; and…

His heart skipped a beat and his feet almost stopped moving forward. Please don't let anything have happened to the bathroom! That was his favorite room in the whole tent. Indoor plumbing!

The young man quickened his steps and threw open the tent flap, wand in hand and ready for battle. Only to stop in his tracks at the sight that met him and being slammed into as the ranger - whom Harry hadn't realized was prepared to join him in saving those within the tent - attempted to rush in behind the wizard. Harry stumbled forward; Aragorn's hand darted out and caught the teen by the arm steadying him.

Pippin cried out from his perch on the sofa, "I didn't do it!"

Sam countered from his perch on one of the two squashy chairs, "You told me to!"

Merry growled - small sword in hand as if prepared for a bloody fight to the death with some unknown foe - standing on the coffee table, "Both of you are to blame. Now where did it go?"

Gandalf let out a yelp of surprise as a small monster - growling and snarling, bits of parchment flitting in the air around its snapping maw, much like spittle and foam would if it were a rabid beast - began nipping at his feet. The elderly wizard held his borrowed items - wrinkled parchment, ink pot, bent quill - in one hand, the folds of his robe in the other and was hopping from one foot to the other in a sort of awkward backward dance in order to keep from being bitten.

Harry bit his lip to hold in his laughter allowing a sense of déjà vu to wash over him; the first time he had experienced anything of the sort, Harry had been alone in a room at the Leaky Cauldron in Diagon Alley, London. With a flick of his wand, Harry sent a silent impediment curse at The Monster Book of Monsters and the monstrous book stilled.

It's a tree.

Ten months - nearly a year since peace settled across the lands - had passed in a blur of recovery. Pelennor Fields had been cleared as best they could of dead remains, yet the large rocks and parts of buildings that had been hurled from Minas Tirith still littered the ground as nature took over the area in order to repair the damage of battle. Tents were still scattered in front of the gates as the Rohirrim recovered, awaiting their king's command to return to Rohan. The White City was still in mourning and celebration as the injured returned hale and hearty or as best they could have hoped for, while buildings were rebuilt and fortified. Mordor was quiet with the exception of the occasional sighting of hunting hell-hawks.

Harry stood in the Court of the Fountain and watched as men reverently removed a dead tree. He canted his head knowing there was a symbolism to the once regal plant, but it was lost to him. Gandalf stood beside him, leaning heavily on his staff, and smiled pleased with his part in the ceremony as the procession passed. "They'll bury it in the Tombs of the Kings with all of the honor that would normally be accorded a fallen monarch."

"It's a tree."

Tsking as if speaking to an insolent child, Gandalf corrected Harry's dim view of the tree's import, "It is more than just a tree. It is the White Tree of Gondor."

The young man was being intentionally obtuse to see how long it took before his elderly counterpart gave up in exasperation, "It's dead. Most folks just chop up a dead tree for kindling and cooking fires."

Gandalf inhaled sharply, "It is a symbol of their strength."

"That doesn't say much for Gondor." Harry had a hard time hiding his amusement, but Gandalf hadn't seen the small grin on his companion's face since he was still watching the procession, "After all, it died."

"As did the last king," Gandalf admitted, "but there is a new king and a new tree."

"Did Aragorn think to consult Sam?"

Harry had to look away at that point since Gandalf finally turned to look at the boy, "Whatever for?"

"Sam could help with the new tree." Harry bit his lip for a moment to keep from grinning, "You do know the hobbit was a gardener before he went off traipsing all over Middle Earth after Frodo."

"Of course…"

"I mean, if Aragorn's life is tied to a tree. It would be in his best interest to keep that thing living for as long as possible." Harry's amusement died and he suddenly stared at the dead white tree, "I was just taking the mickey before, but that tree really is purely symbolic… right?"

Gandalf huffed, "Naturally."

Harry scoffed, "I don't put anything past you lot. You have a bad habit of being too literal."

The procession had made its way to the first gate and the bystanders made to follow. Harry turned to trail behind the others, but hesitated when he heard a distant screech and looked to the sky. Many heads looked at the white speck that grew larger at her approach. The snowy owl landed gracefully on his shoulder, Harry smiled at her, "Hello, girl. You've been off hunting for a while. Did you make new friends?"

The owl hooted once. Harry stroked her soft feathers and noted a message. Hedwig gently nipped at her human's finger and offered him the letter she was carrying. The wizard stared at the parchment curiously.

"Harry?" Gandalf asked.

The young man looked up at his companion, "I'll follow shortly. Hedwig brought me a message."

"Ah, yes of course." Gandalf gave a small nod of understanding and turned to join the procession.

Green eyes - as well as yellow - watched the last of the procession clear the gate with stoic silence. Harry sighed softly and looked once again at the note in his hand. That stubbornness within him wanted to ignore the note without opening it as he had the others, but he hesitated.

The men of Gondor were celebrating. The air of hope filled the air. A new tree was to be planted, the old lain to rest and a new king was to be crowned. Perhaps it was time to let go of old pain?

Harry walked to the nearest bench and sat on the hard stone seat. He turned the scroll over a time or two before removing the bit of ribbon that tied it together. Taking a deep breath, Harry opened the parchment and read:

Dear Harry,

Treebeard has tasked Fladrif with keeping watch over the new saplings near Isengard. I will travel to Fangorn Forest to aid them. The forest has suffered great losses and I feel a pull to help heal it.

This is my last attempt in contacting you. Your lack of correspondence will tell me that there is no hope you'll ever forgive me for my part in bringing you here to save my people.

I know taking you from yours was cruel, but it was what I was tasked to do. I hope one day you will forgive me. I miss my friend.

Always,

Luna

It was coronation day of the new King of Gondor and the Vanquisher was noticeably absent. Harry had apparated to Fangorn Forest and with a soft pop he had arrived on the path into Isengard. The young wizard took note of the ents tending to the saplings and a blonde elf that swayed to a dance of her making.

A gasp of surprise and fear had Harry whipping around, wand in hand. His reflexes were still rather sharp from too many years of war and he stared down its length at two men: one old and bearded, the other cowering and dirty.

Harry peered at the pair and a memory niggled at the back of his mind. The bearded man was not too different from the young man's memory of Dumbledore: an elderly man with long flowing robes, sans the kind, grandfatherly demeanor. He stood tall with long white hair and a long white beard, but he was much thinner than Dumbledore ever was and the snarl was most unbecoming.

The cowering man was dressed in black; he hid his face by looking down while peeking intermittently through the curtain of greasy long black hair. The man was pulling a small cart with two trunks and seemingly had trouble looking up at the young wizard as if expecting some form of punishment if he dared to make eye contact. His actions reminded Harry of Dobby when he was still owned by Lucius Malfoy; he behaved like an abused house elf.

"Who are you?"

Harry's attention immediately snapped back to the old man as his eyes narrowed, "I could ask you the same."

"I am Saruman the White, Head of the White Council," The old man puffed his chest and - if possible - stood taller. "Lord of Isen-"

"You're the former wizard and disgrace to the White Council. Isengard has fallen making you a self-made lord of nothing." Harry interrupted and cocked an eyebrow when Saruman hissed angrily. The young wizard's wand never faltered, it simply stayed aimed at the center of Saruman's chest. "I'm Harry, Head of the Ancient and Noble House of Black, Head of the Noble House of Potter, son of James."

The cowering man took small hesitant steps towards Saruman and spoke in a cracked voice, "That is the one I told you about, Master… he was there… with Gandalf at Edoras… he was there when I was sent away."

The niggling memory finally clicked at those words causing Harry to sneer at the coward, "Worm,"

Grima flinched back nearer the stone wall of Isengard. Saruman's eyes narrowed, "You have magic, but you are not Istar."

"That's right. I'm not Istar, nor Maia. I'm human." Harry agreed, "But make no mistake; I am a wizard. I am also known as: The Vanquisher…" Saruman's fists clenched as if to keep from reaching for his destroyed staff. Harry didn't appear concerned. On the contrary, the young wizard simply grinned at the Istar and spoke calmly, "While I'm not the sort to just kill my opponents, I have been known to protect allies with deadly force."

"I'm not afraid you, boy." Saruman sneered at Harry and spat the last word as if it were distasteful in his mouth.

Harry stiffened, his smile dropping immediately. He hated being referred to as 'boy'. The young wizard lowered his wand slowly, "No, I don't imagine you would be. Besides, I'm not the one who will bring your downfall…" His grin was back before he continued speaking, "she is."

The elderly wizard scoffed, "That elfling? She-"

Harry's laughter interrupted Saruman, "No, not Luna." With a nod in the other direction, Harry gestured to his other friend, "Andúnë's bored and wants a new play thing." A laughing screech and a small blast of wind met that response. "I have new toys for you."

"Andúnë play?" The hell hawk squealed in excitement from her perch on the wall that surrounded Isengard. Grima screamed in fear, falling to the ground with his hands over his head. Saruman gaped and clutched his robe to him while staggering backwards.

"Yes," Harry hissed before he turned on his heel and made his way to Luna and the ents.

Harry had made it back to Minas Tirith for Aragorn's coronation and dragged Luna along to enjoy the celebration that was sure to follow. The two friends had spoken at great length that day and while he understood why, and to some degree had forgiven her, Harry was unable to forget the lies and her purely Slytherin ways which naturally strained their relationship.

The lively music played as many danced, drank and ate. Harry had spoken with many at the celebration, but it was getting loud for the young wizard and he soon found a quiet alcove… only it wasn't unoccupied. "Oh, sorry… I just-"

"Mr. Potter," Elrond motioned the young man forward, "Come. Join us."

The area was deceptively large: it housed a round table surrounded with chairs, large windows, sconces on the walls and a tapestry to shield the entrance giving it some privacy. Harry recognized two of those gathered at the table, but could only guess at whom one of the other three was.

Elrond swept his hand around the table providing the introductions, "Allow me to introduce Celeborn and Galadriel of Lothlórien."

Harry stiffened and blinked at the woman, "Lady Galadriel." His voice was a soft whisper and he took in her features before he smiled sheepishly, "Luna favors you, M'lady." Remembering his manners, he bowed over her hand and softly kissed the back before releasing it. "Lord Celeborn," Harry gave the man a regal nod.

"To their left we have Glorfindel of Gondolin and you already know Gandalf." The Lord of Rivendell continued as Harry gave a respectful nod to the next two people, "This is Mr. Potter, the Vanquisher."

"Please just call me Harry."

Gandalf smiled and gestured towards a chair. "Come, Harry. Have a seat."

Harry noted there was one free seat and realized with a start, "Why do I suddenly feel this isn't a chance meeting?" He never the less took a seat, eyeing the others warily.

Galadriel smiled serenely at the young wizard, "Perhaps this is simply a fortuitous happenstance."

The wizard snorted softly and shook his head, "Sorry, Lady Galadriel. I don't mean to be rude, but things don't just happen to me. They happen for a reason, good or bad, there's always a reason. So…" Harry looked around at each of them expectantly, "What's going on?"

While Galadriel looked surprised, Gandalf looked concerned. Celeborn looked quite amused, as if he was trying to contain his laughter and Elrond had similar problems, but Glorfindel could have given Snape lessons on being stoic.

"Harry, these people… we are the White Council also known as the Council of the Wise." Gandalf sat forward, placing his forearms on the table and entwining his fingers before he spoke, "We were discussing you… or more accurately your future."

"Middle Earth's version of the Wizengamot… talking about my future… just my luck," Harry tried to remain calm, but his heart was beating a very fast tattoo in his chest. The young man gently rubbed his sweating palms along his robes, moving as little as possible trying to appear unperturbed. "What's the verdict?"

Gandalf, Galadriel, Celeborn, Elrond and Glorfindel exchanged a glance before Elrond asked, "You have aided our world beyond our expectations and hopes. We simply have one question for you. Would you like to go home?"

AN2: To anyone that was curious, Elipsa wrote chapter 14.

Also yes, that is the end. No, there is no sequel. I had always thought to leave it up to the reader's choice if Harry goes back or not. Anyhow, again I apologize for this taking so dang long to be posted and I really hope no one is too disappointed in the end.

Ooooh and before I forget, yes I left the whole 'what the hell did he do with the 9 rings' open as well. You may remember that he's been putting them in his pouch. Did he dump them in the lava while he had the chance? Did he give them to the White Council? Did he keep them? I even thought to have him transfigure each into a medallion of the Deathly Hallows to give to the Fellowship members, but Harry balked since he didn't like Frodo much, he never met Boromir since he died before they reached Edoras and several of the folks already have protection things (armor & necklaces with runes) that he had created for them and well to be perfectly honest, I couldn't seem to make up my danged mind about what would be best. So instead of making you wait until my brain could come up with something, I ignored it. Lazy of me, I know. *sigh* Stupid writer's block.

Just a heads up. Anyone waiting for the SDDJ story to continue, I am finally writing again. I know. You're right, it's about time! Let's just hope I don't get another 10 chapters into it and realize I went off topic, scrap it and get stumped for another 6 months.