Disclaimer: I do not own the works of Tolkien or the works of J.K. Rowling. I am merely borrowing them for this story.

Summary: A Harry Potter/Lord of the Rings crossover that's a bit different to the norm.

FOREWORD: This is a tester chapter to see if there in any interest from you the readers in this story. I have plans to continue it regardless but I intend to write a few more chapters in advance so I have a better chance of finish it. As such this won't be updated for a while yet but rest assured I do intend on finishing this.

The concept of this story came to me a couple of years back. I was struggling with my first Harry Potter/Tolkien crossover and came to the conclusion that if I continued with it I would only be following the same road that the Lord of the Rings story follows and would create nothing new. So I spent a while agonizing about how to do a new story in the same genre and in doing so I went back and I looked through my Tolkien Library and I found reference to several stories that Tolkien created but never explored. This sparked my interest and after thinking on it I believed I could get more freedom if I explored one of these stories with the added element of Harry Potter. In doing this I could create an almost entirely new story but keep it cannon with Tolkien's works, though a bit AU obviously. If it turns out well I may attempt to do another.

As an additional note, I know I'm not the best of writers and I have never had any confidence in my ability to write character interaction so I hope that the concept itself is enough to make up for my substandard writing ability.

~Chapter One~

Thunder roared and rolled down from the shear wall of the high mountains as rain pelted their rocky faces and streamed down into pools between their craggy peaks and outcrops. Lightning flashed across the sky in great forks illuminating the countryside beneath the great storm.

There was a strange wind in the air, a feeling altogether foreign to the region and one which had not been felt in those parts since the shaping of the world before the sun rose for the first time from the horizon.

Still the thunder roars and the rain falls as cliffs echoed the din and responded in kind.

No one would willingly walk abroad in this weather. No business could be so urgent as to drag you away from a hot fire, a comfortable seat and a warm drink. Yet something was in the air, something was on the move and something extraordinary was happening.

With a crash a steak of lightning struck the mountain side and broke the cliff face in its fury. The rubble fell, tumbling into the darkness towards the ground far below. With another great crash the lightning struck again, this time striking a clump of trees that stood nearby and reducing it to ash. Once more the lightning struck, this time striking a stream running from the mountains and steam rose up in its wake.

Then all was silent save the falling rain and the gushing wind which swirled and joined into a tempest in the valley. Up and up in rose and great in strength and fury until the very earth beneath it was torn up in its rage.

With a mighty roar of thunder and a blinding flash of lightning the skies above duelled with the tempest below until at last they met and where the met was nothing but ruin and destruction.

But as the smoke and fire cleared, and as the tempest and thunder storm abated that strange wind grew and swirled over a certain spot in the valley. Had there been more to witness this scene than the indomitable mountain walls they would have seen a swirl of wind and debris spinning together into a ball several feet above the ground until it swallowed itself and, with a gulp, exploded and from its ruin it expelled a body onto the desolate land.

. . . . . . . . .

Darkness was all that greeted the eyes of the young man as he woke from his slumber, a darkness that far exceeded the meaning of the word. It was as if he alone existed and all other things had ceased to exist. It was a darkness that blinded and blunted the senses until they were overwhelmed and could recognize nothing.

For an eternity he seemed to drift, alone in this darkness, unaware of the passage of time, unaware of all movement, unaware of the eyes that watched him as he drifted. For far above and beyond his comprehension his fate was being decided by creatures older than the world itself.

This young man had suffered greatly in his lifetime, sacrificed himself and all that he held dear in the pursuit of his final goal, been responsible for many lives lost and ruined and in the process had risked his humanity and now, for all that he had done, he was to be judged.

"Great is the darkness of his soul. It wraps around him like a mantle and perverts his thoughts." A tall lady clad in grey spoke, her words swept over all and washed away exhaustion.

"There is no respite in his future; suffering is all that he has known; it is all he understands." Spoke a man clad in green, whose words lulled all senses into relaxation.

"Yet his heart remains pure and the light in his soul as yet still battles with the darkness, this poor creature before us may yet be redeemed." Spoke a lady cloaked in light and blinding to look upon.

"This may be true yet he may still fall to the darkness that surrounds him. What possible future may lie before him? If we were to gift him the chance to redeem himself; would he yet fall or will he remain true?" Spoke a man clad in red and brown, strong and stout of appearance.

"The sorrow of his soul is great but not unceasing. If by our mercy he may find the path to his redemption then it is but a trinket to part with." Spoke a woman clad in grey who wept constantly as she spoke.

"If indeed his soul can be salvaged from the darkness then it may be worth our efforts to do so." Spoke a man formed seemingly by the waves and foam of the seas.

"I do not agree. The darkness of his soul is great, this is clear for all to see, should we show him mercy and gift unto him his freedom he would cause more ill than good." Spoke the tallest and strongest in appearance of those present.

"I do not suggest we give him a freedom un-tethered, Lord Tulkas. I suggest that a task be set by which he could prove his worth or fall, a task that will decide his fate and the fate of the world." The man made of waves answered

"And what is this task that you would have us set?" Tulkas responded.

"I would send him to Arda. The darkness that threatens that land is great and the people there will require any aid possible if they are to survive it. We have sworn to remain uninvolved in these matters but have we not sent emissaries of our will to the aid of these people? Why not charge him with this task also and let him decide his fate by his own actions?" The man of waves continued.

"But would we not risk the safety of the very people we wish to protect?" asked the man in green.

"Perhaps it would be so," the man of waves answered, "a gamble this may be but I do not believe it would be one which would not bear fruit. There is light in his heart still and this, I believe, would lead him to complete his task even if he should come to resent it."

"I must agree." The weeping lady interjected. "He is a creature of duty and would follow any task assigned him through until its end. Let this task be his judgement and by his actions let him be judged."

"I feel this course proposed is too dangerous. I do not dare think what dangers he may bring unto the world should we give him this opportunity and he fail in the task assigned him and fall to the darkness of his soul. Far better to keep him contained and controlled than risk him bringing more darkness into being." Argued the man clad in reds and browns.

"You have sat in silence throughout husband. Have you no opinion as to what his fate shall be?" Asked the lady clad in light.

All eyes turned as one to a figure clad in regal blue sitting upon a throne. This man turned his gaze to each in turn before rising, in silence still, and advancing upon the prone figure of the young man whose fate was being decided. There he stood for a time, unmoving, until at last he spoke;

"Indeed the darkness of your soul is great and it troubles me. What future you may bring, child, unto this world, for good or ill, I cannot say, yet it is not the will of Eru to see you caged, but freedom will not be given to you either. The sorrow of you soul shall be your chains, forever you shall be bound by them, until you fall into darkness forever or once again walk into the light. A task shall be set, and by the outcome shall you find your salvation or else your ruin. To Arda you shall be sent and to the task of the Istari shall you be assigned. Your fate shall rest in your own hands. This is the judgement of Manwe."

One by one each of the beings who debated the fate of the young man began to fade from view until at last there was only Manwe and a figure clad in a black hooded cloak. But soon Manwe too faded as the black cloaked figure advanced past him to stand over the judged.

"Hear me child." The figure spoke in a cold, stern voice. "Your task shall be great made even greater by the torment of your soul, should you fall, your doom shall be equal to this. Remember this always."

And with this at last all faded and the young man was left alone.

. . . . . . . . .

The storm during the night had flooded the Greylin River and its banks had burst drowning great swaths of land beneath its waters. Many farmers were out early and working hard in an attempt to push the river back.

They were strong and hardy folk in these parts. The land they lived in was a dangerous place for it was close to the Misty Mountains where many Goblins, Orcs and Trolls dwelt and would often walk abroad and hunt in the realms of man and elf. But also it was very close to the Grey Mountains which housed the dreaded Long Worm. Though the Long Worm rarely travelled abroad the mere knowledge of his presence was enough to imbed fear in all who dwelt nearby.

So a river bursting its banks was not something that would slow them down nor make them abandon their work.

Though this was a small settlement of forty or so people they worked as if there were triple their number and by midday they had pushed the river back many yards.

"A good days work, wouldn't you say Beor?" asked a man.

"So far, yes, but there is still much more to do before nightfall, I do not dare risk remaining out here during the night." Beor answered. "The Goblins have been more active recently and come closer every night. We cannot afford to be complacent."

"Always so serious Beor, it is a wonder how you ever managed to win the heart of Freya!" a different man said in jest. "Goblins have not threatened our settlement for fifteen years; they know to leave us in peace."

"Nothing is ever certain Leod. We know not why we have been left in peace by the foul creatures of the mountain for these past years and to let down our guard is to invite ruin" Beor reprimanded.

"You worry too much." Leod dismissed quickly.

"And you worry too little." said Beor.

"How fares your wife these days Beor?" Another man interjected before the disagreement could escalate. "I heard that you are soon to be a father once more"

"She is aglow and more beautiful now than I have ever known her to be." Beor answered as he took the bait and the conversation turned.

"So you say every day when asked!" Leod laughed.

"And the truth I speak!" Beor said earnestly. "Every day I spend with her she becomes more beautiful, every hour spent away from her merely increases my longing to see her and bask in her presence."

"By the Valar! You speak as though you were a child enraptured by your first maiden!" continued Leod in a jest.

"I do not!" Beor denied but before he could say anymore a cry arose and interrupted them

"There is something in the river!" a scout shouted. Automatically every man rose and took up whatever was close at hand that could pass for a weapon.

"Is it man or Goblin?!" Beor shouted in answer, taking the role as leader as he often did.

"I cannot see; he is too far away!" came the reply and silence answered him as all waited anxiously for more news. At last the scout cried again "It is a man! He is not moving!"

"Quickly! We must get him out of the river and on to dry land!" Beor said as waded into the swollen river. Though he could not yet see the man he was moving so as to intercept him.

Soon a figure half submerged in the river water appeared nearby and Beor along with three other men moved out to intercept his path and drag the unconscious figure back to dry land. Once laid out Beor quickly checked the body for signs of life, they were faint but he found them. He stepped back to take a proper look at the man he had just dragged from the river.

The man was young, young enough to have little to no facial hair, he had black hair that, though matted and filthy, sat in a ruffled mess about him, he was fair of face, save for a jagged scar on his forehead, and was small and lightly built, perhaps underweight. The clothes he was wearing could be described as robes, black robes at first glance but a dark green upon closer inspection, with a similarly blackish green pointed hat attached to his neck by a piece of cord and in his right hand he clutched a small polished wooden stick tightly.

"…he is but a boy…" Beor gasped.

"He is running a terrible fever. If he does not get treatment soon he may not live." Leod remarked as he knelt by the boy.

A moment's silence, then Beor spoke. "We'll take him to the village. Freya and Frewyn can see to him."

. . . . . . . . .

When the boy awoke he found himself in an unfamiliar room. It was a small room with four wooden walls and a thatched roof. There was a window covered by a ragged cloth in the way of a curtain and a doorframe blocked by a wooden door.

His immediate reaction was to panic.

"Where am I?!" he thought before the more pressing question of "Who am I?!" struck his mind.

He sat in silence shifting through his thoughts and trying to make sense of what he had found. His mind was a jumble of different memories, feelings and thoughts none of which made immediate sense and all of which felt unfamiliar to him, but eventually he was able to discern one term by which he could describe himself.

"Harry Potter? I'm Harry Potter? Yes….yes, that's right. But, what…how…how did I get here? Where is here anyway?"

Resolving himself to find out he threw the covers off and dragged himself out of the cot. Stumbling a bit as he stood up he staggered to the window. Moving the rag out of the way he looked outside to find that he was in a small village with only one road and several similarly wooden, thatched roofed houses. At a certain angle he could see a river in the distance.

"Is this even England anymore?"

Turning away from the window he made his way back to the cot and sat with a sigh. Forcing his mind to work harder he struggled to remember anything that might help him but no memories that surfaced seemed of immediate help and despair grasped him.

He threw himself back on the cot and cast an arm across his eyes. Letting his mind go blank he sat there unmoving, allowing his despair to sweep through him.

As he lay there in his gloom he began to hear muffled voices and movement from the next room. Running a hand through his hair he sat up and sighed. Presumably the commotion in the next room was his hosts so, he decided, it would be a good idea to go and say hello.

Looking around the room he found his clothes piled on a stool nearby. Picking them up and sorting through them he suddenly noticed something, his wand was missing. This sent him into another panic and he scrambled around the room looking for it. He was just looking under his cot when the door opened.

A gasp gained his attention. He shot up and knocked his head on the cot. Bringing his head out of from under the cot a hand shot to the back of his skull as he hissed in pain. Rubbing his head he sat up in a kneeling position and turned in the direction of the door.

Standing there was a young, blond headed woman wearing a somewhat tarnished short green dress over a white shirt. She was thin but possessing some muscle-mass and pretty in a plain sort of way. She was looking at him in some surprise and embarrassment. She was carrying a bowl.

"Uh, hi," he said as he continued to rub his sore head, "um…I don't suppose you've seen a small stick around here anywhere have you?"

She didn't respond but continued to stare at him. The silence unnerved him.

"Er, look, I'm sorry if I startled you or anything, not that I'd understand how, but, the thing is, that stick is important to me. It's about eleven inches and made of holly, its polished so should shine a bit and…er…are you even listening to me?" She didn't appear to be paying attention to a single word he said.

"Er…" following her gaze he looked down and took stock of his state of dress, or rather, lack there of," Oh God!" he said and grasped his robes and held them in front of him. "I'm really, really sorry! I-I forgot about that, I was so busy, I, look, lets just forget about this, you turn around, I'll get dressed and we can start again."

Still no reply. The woman continued to stare at him, but less in embarrassment, more in confusion. She said something.

"Sorry?" Harry said, "I didn't quite get that. Can you repeat it please?"

She said something different.

"I thought so," Harry sighed. "I didn't understand a word of that."

~End Chapter One~

Any reviews will be welcomed.