Disclaimer: I do not own anything recognizable from either Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings. They belong solely to the two authors whose brilliant minds created these worlds.

This is my first crossover. Please review and tell me what you think.

Thank you.

WARNING: This story is rated M for implied rape, abuse, abandonment, and mild violence.

Note: The words spoken in Elvish will be italicized.

Author's Note: From this chapter on, Hermione's name will be Siladhiel Ithilwen or just Siladhiel.

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Belonging

By Edhelwen Oneita

~Beacons~

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Unknown to those around Minas Tirith, the sickly light that had blasted up from where the fallen city of Minas Ithil sat, was seen for miles away. Síladhiel and Boromir watched on in horror from the back of Shadowfax.

"That does not bode well."

"No Boromir it does not. I fear the battle is soon starting. How much farther?"

Boromir sat thinking and estimating how far they were. He knew whereabouts Minas Morgul laid and judging from the light they saw, he suspected it came from there. Minas Morgul, once called Minas Ithil also known as the City of the Moon, had fallen to the Witch King of Angmar and soon gained a new name under his rule. "If I am correct and that evil light came from Minas Morgul, I would say we would reach Osgiliath just after sunrise. Minas Tirith is across the fields from there."

Síladhiel nodded and swallowed nervously. She had a feeling that they will be arriving during one of the first attacks. Is this why Gandalf wanted her to leave when they did? Did he know or heaven forbid foresaw it? She knew Elrond and Arwen both had the gift of foresight and that Lady Galadriel had a mirror that can show many things, but she was still skeptical about seeing the future and prophesy type stuff. She firmly believed that the future could change based on the decisions one made. Setting her lips in a firm line, she gazed towards the bone chilling sight in the sky. Evil will not win. As if sensing his mistress's thoughts, Shadowfax pawed the ground and shook his head as he started prancing as if asking to go. Síladhiel grinned down at Shadowfax as he again pawed and arched his neck looking very much like the war steed he was. She reached a hand out and stroked the gleaming white mane. "Alright Shadowfax, show us the meaning of speed."

Shadowfax reared up and let out a neigh that sounded like a war cry to his riders then set off at his full speed. Boromir hung on with wide eyes having not expected that while Síladhiel laughed.

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Faramir surveyed his soldiers around Osgiliath. His lips were set into a firm line. The light was gone but the feeling stayed with him. He worried. He felt as if time was running out and he feared for his men. He suspected an attack was imminent.

The voice of Madril, one of the Rangers of Ithillien under Faramir's command, caught his attention. "It has been very quiet across the river. The Orcs are lying low. The garrison may have moved out. We have also sent scouts to Cair Andros. If the Orcs attack from the north, we will have some warning."

Faramir looked down at the map Madril was peering over and nodded. He trusted Madril's actions knowing that he was a great strategist. He stood straighter and walked a few steps away towards the river. A metallic sound had him stopping in his tracks and he watched with horror as a soldier fell from a look out tower. Immediately his eyes shifted towards the fog covered river as men gathered around him having heard the body tumbling down the steps.

"They're not coming from the north." Faramir's words caused several men to look at him then follow his gaze towards the river. Quickly and quietly, he signals his men towards the river to prepare for the ambush. "To the river! Quick, quick! Come on!" The men gathered behind pillars at the riverbank waiting with bated breath as the sounds of boats cutting through the water got closer to their location.

"Faster! Draw swords!" A gurgled voice called out, likely the leader having suspected the body had been seen and wanted the ambush to start faster.

The orcs beached their boats and filed in through the pillars not knowing they were going past an ambush of their own. Faramir held his breath as he waited, his men watching and waiting for his signal to attack. Finally, he nodded having let enough orcs go through away from the boats so they would not be overwhelmed.

"Fight, Fight!"

Men and orcs clashed through the ruins of Osgiliath. Many fought fiercely and yet as Orcs swarm into the city. Many realized it was futile and started fighting their way to the city's entrance so they could escape across the fields, Faramir guiding his men. He ran through an archway being chased by orcs only to freeze seeing Madril and several others poised and ready to fire arrows towards him. Quickly thinking he spun away placing his back against a wall just as the orcs chasing him rounded the corner. Madril gave the order and the orcs were mowed down before they realized they had been shot. They were close, Faramir knew, close to the exit.

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Pippin climbed the rocky sides of the cliff to the top of the beacon at Minas Tirith. He figured that if he stayed directly under the beacon itself he would easily evade the guards. He was not in his livery yet so he doubted if he was caught that it would go well. It was not an easy climb and he worried that loose stones his feet had knocked loose would alert the guards and he would fail at Gandalf's request. Upon reaching the beacon, he rested while peeking around the corner towards the Guardhouse. Good, he thought, they were oblivious. He then climbed the massive woodpile having caught a scent of oil coming from there. Sure enough, hanging above the woodpile was a lamp of oil lit with fire. Perfect! Now if he could just reach it. He balanced on the precariously stacked wood, focusing on being silent so he would not draw attention to himself. Just as his fingers brushed the lamp's handle, a rope snaps causing the lamp to spill oil onto the wood and pippin to freeze as he looked at the guards. He grinned with mischief seeing that the guards were still distracted. He felt bad for the guards, knowing that they would likely get into trouble for this, but this city needed help and he was going to help get that help.

Finally, Pippin got hold of the lamp and the ropes still holding it broke as if they were meant to do so easily and he threw the lamp onto the wood. Pippin grinned in victory, he had done it! The fire grew fast and his eyes went wide not realizing that it would burn that fast. He quickly climbed back down to the street where Gandalf watched as the guards panicked over what to do. Gandalf glanced towards the mountain ranges and smiled as he saw another beacon light its fire in response.

"Amon Dîn." Gandalf glanced down beside him as the Hobbit stopped at his side looking up at the older wizard with a big smile.

"The beacon! The beacon of Amon Dîn is lit!" Both Gandalf and the Hobbit looked at the guard who called out. Gandalf glanced around seeing even the townspeople looking at the pinprick sized fires in the mountains marking the beacons as they lit their way across towards Gondor. It was done. Feeling eyes on him from behind, Gandalf ignored them and only smiled wider. He knew that Lord Denethor was glaring at him for lighting the beacons. "Hope is rekindled."

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At Edoras, Aragorn stood on a watchtower watching the mountains intensely. Surely, Gondor would have lit the beacons by now? He sighed and nearly jumped out of his skin when a hand fell onto his shoulder. He looked over his shoulder at the young wizard who looked back at him with a raised brow.

"I am not that quiet of a walker, Aragorn. What has your mind in knots?"

Aragorn sighed and shook his head. "'Tis nothing, friend." Draco looked back at him in pure disbelief before nodding to the hill where the Golden Hall sat.

"You need rest. If the call does come you will be too exhausted to do much of anything." He watched as the older man shook his head again and looked at the sky. Draco tilted his head as he watched and considered him. He looked a lot like Théoden King when he was worried over whether or not his people would survive the onslaught at Helms Deep. Ah, so that is what is going on. The Heir to the Throne of Gondor is worried over the state and outcome of his people. Draco turned towards the Ranger and froze as his eyes caught something. His eyes grew wider as he realized what it is and tugged on Aragorn's sleeve to get his attention.

Aragorn turned to inquire what the young wizard wanted and paused following his line of vision after seeing the shocked expression Draco had. A gasp escaped his mouth as his eyes fell upon a sight he had been longing to see. The last beacon had been lit. Barely registering what he was doing, he soon found himself turning and was soon running up the streets through Edoras before bursting through the doors into the Golden Hall, panting out of breath.

"The Beacons of Minas Tirith! The Beacons are lit!" He paused to get his breath and calm himself after hearing the pleading tone in his voice as he spoke. "Gondor calls for aid!"

Aragorn held his breath watching as Théoden sat up in his throne and the King's Council turned towards him before looking towards their king. Théoden sat silently for a bit before meeting the eyes of Aragorn, taking stock of the man before him. Though Aragorn was known as a Ranger from the North, Théoden could not help but see a King who was worried for his people standing before him instead of a simple ranger. Théoden noticed that his silence was causing disquiet in Aragorn. Standing up he walked down the two steps before his throne and held his head high.

"And Rohan will answer." The King smiled as he watch Aragorn sag with notable relief. He could not help but remember what he had told the ranger before Gandalf had left with the one Hobbit. The memory of accusing Gondor of failing him and his people when he himself had not sent word asking for aid, made Théoden flinch. He glanced at the waiting council and Gamling. "Muster the Rohirrim!"

Those words sent all of Edoras into a frenzy as a soldier ran to ring an alarm bell telling the townsmen to prepare for war. Théoden exited Meduseld dressed in his armor speaking with Éomer as they made their way down to the stables. "Assemble the army at Dunharrow, as many men as can be found. You have two days." Éomer bowed his head before turning to call out to several swift riders that rode under his command. Théoden grabbed his nephew's shoulder before he could walk away to do his uncle's bidding. "On the third, we ride for Gondor. And war."

"I will inform the other messengers, My Lord."

Théoden watched his nephew, his brother's son, walk away thinking to himself that Éomer was more than just his nephew. Éomer was a second son. Sighing he turned and caught sight of Gamling finishing up saddling his horse and called out to him.

Gamling bowed and looked up expectantly at his King. "Lord."

"Make haste across the Riddermark. Summon every able-bodied man to Dunharrow."

Gamling nodded and turned towards his horse and quickly mounted. "It will be as you say, Théoden King." Digging in his heels into the flank, Gamling took off. Théoden stand back as he watched Gamling and the Rohirrim messengers ride out the gate of Edoras going to their destinations.

The remaining Rohirrim going with Théoden to Dunharrow was busy getting supplies and their steeds ready for the journey. Aragorn was among them with Brego. Éowyn led her horse beside him as she checked the saddle, tightening the girth belt and lowering the stirrups. Aragorn turned and watched her for a bit before speaking. "You ride with us?"

"Just to the encampment. It's tradition for the women of the court to farewell the men."

Aragorn raised a brow as he limply reached over and lifted a blanket tied to her saddle, uncovering a hidden sword. He had noticed it when he was watching her fiddle with the saddle. Scowling, Éowyn quickly lowered the raised blanket and glared at him daring him to say anything. Clearing her throat, she goes back to what she was doing when he remained silent.

"The men have found their captain, they will follow you into battle and even to death. You have given us hope." Éowyn glances up at him seeing him not looking at her as he focused on his own horse. She nearly slipped and had hoped he did not noticed what she almost had said out loud. Biting her lip, Éowyn returned to her task of getting her horse ready to ride.

Not too far away from Aragorn and Éowyn, Merry was looking out at everything going on as he debated on taking the step he wanted to make. It would be a big step for a hobbit like him to take and it was not one to be taken lightly. Making up his mind, Merry withdrew his sword and walked over towards Rohan's King who was overlooking the proceedings before him. "Excuse me." To his horror his voice came out as a timid squeak but saw it was enough for the king to notice him as Théoden looked at Merry with amusement and curiosity. Merry cleared his throat and tried again. "Excuse me. I have a sword. Please accept it." Merry knelt holding out his sword as if offering it to Théoden like one would offer a platter of food, laid across both hands. As he spoke, his confidence grew. "I offer you my service, Théoden King."

Théoden smiles and reaches down to help Merry to his feet. The courage of Hobbits was something to admire. "And gladly I accept it. You shall be Meriadoc, esquire of Rohan. I am certain you will do Rohan proud."

Merry's expression brightened as he grinned in excitement. Nodding he took his sword and sheathed it. "Yes sir!" He ran off making Théoden laugh at his enthusiasm.

Legolas, carrying a saddle, had to quickly dodge an excited Hobbit as Merry ran inside to see if there was a pony for him. Gimli paused glancing at the Hobbit before continuing to lead Arod over to the post so Legolas can saddle him up. While Legolas hefted the saddle over Arod's back, Gimli was watching as three fully armored Rohirrim horse and riders rode by causing the dwarf to let out a huff.

"Horsemen, hmph! I wish I could muster a legion of Dwarves, fully armed and filthy."

Legolas glanced down at the dwarf knowing his words were likely based off the dwarf's worry about his own people. After slipping on the bridle and making sure the girth belt was tight enough, he turned to the dwarf to speak but another voice spoke first.

"Your kinsmen may have no need to ride to war. I fear war already marches on their own lands." Draco walked over to them and leaned against the post that Arod was tied to. "I am sure war is happening on everyone's doorstep in all honesty."

Legolas looked at the casually dressed wizard and noticed he seemed not to be in a rush to prepare for departure either. Draco catching the Elf's look shook his head. "No, we are not going with you. In fact, the King had asked us to stay behind and look after those remaining, in case something was to happen with the army gone. My father agreed, I protested." Draco scowled. He wanted to help. He did not want left behind. He did not want to go for the possibly glory, but rather to help protect the people who had given him a second chance. Legolas nodded in understanding and placed a friendly hand on the young man's shoulder.

"Théoden King is giving you a huge honor by entrusting his people to you and the other wizards. It is something to be prided on. She would be pleased to know someone like you was watching over Edoras during this time." They both knew to whom 'she' was referring. Draco nodded but grew still as Legolas's face grew grim. "I would be just as pleased to know someone like you would be looking after her should something happen to me in the coming battle." Draco's eyes widened and he went to speak but Legolas continued. "No. None of us knows what is going to happen. This war is nothing like any other I have fought. The Battle of the Hornburg was proof of that. Something could happen and should it, I want you to be the one to comfort Síladhiel and take care of her in my stead. However, I will do all that I can to come back to her." Legolas waited as his words sank into Draco's mind. Nodding, Draco stood straight and looked the Elf in the eyes.

"I promise to comfort and care for her in your stead should the worst outcome occur." Legolas nodded and turned to help Gimli onto Arod when Draco's voice caused him to pause. "And I will find some way to bring you back so I can kick your arse for hurting her." Legolas's lip twitched at those words as he hefted the dwarf into the saddle before swinging himself up behind Gimli. Taking hold of the reins, Legolas looked down at the serious expression on the wizards face.

"Good, I would have it no other way, my friend." Draco stepped back and watched as Arod moved to join the readied soldiers leaving Edoras. Horses were gathered in the streets fully armored for war, as were their riders. Éomer and Théoden sat at the head of the formation waiting for the King's orders. Théoden looked up at the banner hanging by the gates of Edoras and signed as he mumbled to himself in thought.

"So it is before the walls of Minas Tirith, the doom of our time will be decided."

Éomer glanced at his uncle and saw the forlorn expression on his face. Théoden noticed and gave a single nod and Éomer turned to the gathered Rohirrim. "Now is the hour, Riders of Rohan, oaths you have taken! Now, fulfill them all! To Lord and Land!" He raised his spear eliciting a loud cheer and cry from the men. It was a War Cry for all to hear. Turning their steeds, Éomer followed the King as they left heading to Dunharrow. Merry, having found a pony was kicking its flank to get the stubborn thing to move forward as the Rohirrim were filing out through the gate behind their king. Finally, the pony realized they were being left behind and obeyed the frustrated hobbit and soon they were galloping along side the army, much to Merry's pleasure and excitement.

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Author's Note: I know it has been forever since I posted. I have had some serious writers block. I am also dealing with a loss of a job and life is getting to me very hard. I am posting this chapter in hopes that it will make my readers happy and to let y'all know I appreciate every one of you.