Part 1: The Dark Wizard

The first thing Severus noticed was the acrid stench. The second thing he noticed were overlarge, pale eyes that looked down on him curiously. He jerked upright, and the pale creature flinched back as if struck. It began to mutter in a high voice. It took several seconds before Severus could make out its speech.

"What is it?" it hissed, eyes wide with apprehension. "Why is it here?"

Severus stood up and absently touched his very much intact throat. He was soaking wet, and the air was far colder than it had been in the Shrieking Shack. It was nighttime, but the entire area was lit up by pale, eerie lights and ghostly candles. He was in a great, endless marshland. There were no trees, and even the small, stunted grasses that did grow seemed to do so only with great effort. He could feel a subtle pull on his mind, and he quickly shut it out. It was as if there was some curse laid upon the entire area.

The creature answered Severus' unasked question. "Alive, it was. We saw it - pulled it out, yes."

"Who are you?" Severus asked.

"It speaks!" it cried, jumping away in fright. "It speaks to us, precious. What is it?"

Severus looked down. He was still wearing the same robes he had been wearing when the Dark Lord had ended his life, but there was no blood. His wand was tucked in its sleeve, and he pulled it out.

"You first," he said coolly. The creature frowned at him, and it crawled toward him in a manner that was almost threatening. Severus gripped his wand tighter.

"Us? No, it will speak. Won't it, precious?"

Severus sneered at the wretched creature. Its voice and mannerisms reminded him of Pettigrew, and Severus felt a familiar hatred rising. "Do not make me ask you again."

The creature cringed back again at the tone of command, and forced itself to its knees. "We is - we is - we is Smeagol! That is our name, precious. Smeagol!" It was almost as if it had forgotten its name.

"What is precious?" Severus asked, his tone still commanding.

It shook its head frantically. "Mustn't ask us. Mustn't ask."

"Speak."

"Who does it serve? It must say!" Severus sneered at the creature, his patience exhausted.

"Incarcerous!" Thick robes bound the creature, and it began to panic and twist against the bonds as if it had been placed under the Cruciatus Curse. Realizing that such a racket could attract unwanted attention, Severus quickly cast a silencing charm, but it was too late.

"Who goes there?" came a stern voice, and Severus whirled around, his sopping robes uncomfortable in the near-freezing air of the stinking marsh. His gaze fell upon a very stern, unkempt man who greatly resembled his most hated nemesis Sirius Black; tall, with grey eyes, shaggy dark hair, and handsome features. He was armed with an impressive sword, and he seemed to have a keen warrior's instinct. Severus knew immediately to be on his guard.

"I would ask you," Severus said smoothly, a meaningful glance at his wand. The man did not understand the threat Severus posed, but he understood the gesture, and his arm moved quickly to his own weapon.

"You are unarmed, friend. What is your business here?" He was certainly politer than Black.

"You underestimate me, friend," Severus said mockingly, and with a quick jab of his wand, a small fire erupted between them. The stern warrior flinched back in terror, and Severus smirked. The man was definitely a muggle.

"Sorcerer! What is this?" he demanded, his face changing from fear to determination and his voice quickly taking on an edge of contempt to mask his moment of weakness. Severus waved his wand lazily, and the fire disappeared.

"A simple spell; nothing more," Severus answered. "I do believe that it is you who will be answering my questions?"

"As you wish," the man said. "Have you food?" Severus raised an eyebrow. "I merely wish to offer you my hospitality, such as it is."

"Indeed? I would prefer if you surrendered your weapon first."

"I have no reason to trust you, friend," the man said coolly. Severus smiled evilly.

"Perhaps you would like to join your friend here?" he asked mildly, gesturing to Smeagol. The creature was gazing up at him with mute loathing. The man was clearly trying to hide it, but Severus could sense the shock.

"Your threats reveal your Dark intent," the man said frostily. "Though I must admit your... appearance hinted at it." Severus seethed silently at the insult, and suddenly it was Sirius Black standing before him.

"You will surrender your weapon now." The man wavered, unwilling to be cowed, and Severus jabbed his wand threateningly. With great reluctance, the warrior laid his sword along with several daggers at his feet and backed away. Severus briefly considered summoning it, but quickly decided that it would be prudent to hide the extent of his powers as much as possible. He stepped cautiously to the sword, and picked it up. "I thank you for you... cooperation."

"Interesting way you have of putting that, Dark one," the man said coolly, his face a mask of contempt as he glared at Severus. Severus attempted to probe his mind, but something prevented him. While not a wizard, the man was not quite a muggle either, and Severus felt his caution rise.

"Your juvenile taunts are most appreciated," Severus said mildly. The man's eyes widened slightly at his words, and suddenly, he let out a laugh.

"Indeed? Perhaps I have misjudged you! No servant of the Enemy has ever given me cause for amusement before."

"Your faith in me is touching," Severus said sarcastically, but the man seemed to take his words as sincere, and smiled at him. "We will start with your name."

"I am called many things, friend," he said. "As a token of trust, I will give you the truth: my name is Aragorn, son of Arathorn."

Severus nearly laughed at the pomposity of his proclamation, but caught himself short. "Most impressive."

The man looked at him quizzically. "You are not sincere?"

"What is your purpose here?" Severus asked, ignoring the question. Unlike Aragorn, he was not ready to trust yet. His secrets would remain his own.

"My purpose was to capture him," Aragorn said, nodding to the wretch. Smeagol's overlarge eyes darted between the two men resentfully.

"And he is?" Severus drawled

"Gollum..." Severus frowned at the apparent lie. "He is also known as Smeagol."

"You are an honest man," Severus said, and he let a sliver of mockery enter his voice at the proclamation.

"Perhaps you would be willing to reciprocate?" the man asked, ignoring Severus' implied insult. His piercing grey eyes boring into Severus. Severus found himself impressed by the man despite himself.

"What would you like to know?"

"Your name."

Severus considered for a long moment. He could tell that he was not in Wizarding Britain anymore, but beyond that he could not guess. His name could surely not harm him in the muggle world, and foreign Wizarding Governments would be forced to treat him respectfully given his official status as Headmaster of Hogwarts regardless of any rumors otherwise.

"Severus Snape."

"Snape is your father?"

"No, my father is Tobias," Severus said quickly. "Snape is my surname."

"Well met, Severus son of Tobias," the man said genially, and he smiled. It should have sounded pompous, but somehow it seemed appropriate when he said it. Severus felt the absurd desire to reciprocate the man's amiability.

"The same to you, Aragorn." Severus did not bother to attempt a smile of his own.

"Are you from the South?" Aragorn asked. Severus frowned slightly.

"I'm afraid that is all the information I'm willing to share," Severus said politely. Aragorn nodded in acceptance.

"Fair enough, friend. I fear that I cannot offer you any more information myself, save by coercion."

"Perhaps we can come to an agreement?" Severus asked. "Your friend for the knowledge I desire."

Aragorn seemed to consider Severus for a moment. "I will trust you, Severus. Surrender Gollum to me, and I will answer any question you ask that I do not deem confidential."

"I will agree to that," Severus said. The warrior was very shrewd, but Severus could sense no hint of treachery or dishonesty, and found himself wanting to like him. He laid Aragorn's weapons at his feet, and pocketed his wand. "I will trust you as well."

The man smiled at that, and he sat down on a particularly dry patch of grass.

"Have you eaten of late?" Aragorn asked as he opened his pack. It was not like the ones he saw Hogwarts students wearing. It appeared to be made out of actual leather, and worn from long use.

"I have not," Severus said. He had not eaten at all since Harry Potter had been spotted in Hogsmeade, and the tenseness of the following events had pushed any consideration of his appetite from his mind. Aragorn pulled several leave-wrapped, hard, sponge-like items from his pack, and handed several to Severus.

"Have you eaten lembas before?"

"I've never heard of such a thing."

"A small bite will suffice for nearly a day. Eating more would be wasteful." Severus looked at the dry bread tentatively. Was it magical? He broke off a small piece, and cautiously put it into his mouth. It tasted very bad, and Severus nearly spit it out, but he forced it down anyway.

"Give it time. It is meant to sustain; nothing more." Severus thought that reasonable. Aragorn offered a piece of the bread to Smeagol, but the creature merely turned away in disgust at it. "Why does he not speak?"

"I don't know," Severus lied.

"You have put an enchantment upon him," Aragorn said, and his tone was accusing.

"What does it matter?"

"It is cruel to not let him speak." Aragorn was glaring at him, and Severus felt guilty despite himself. "I would like you to lift it."

"I can't."

"Do not lie, Severus." Severus flushed. Why had he let himself warm to the stranger?

"Fine," he snapped petulantly, and with a reluctant wave of his wand, the creature began to shriek loudly once again and thrash wildly against its bonds. Aragorn flinched in surprise. "Happy now?"

"Get it off us! Get it off! Wicked, cruel men! Get it of us!" it shrieked. Severus did not hide his disgust at the display.

"You will be silent, Smeagol," Aragorn said sternly. Severus found himself taken aback by the commanding voice, but Smeagol paid it no heed. "Must I ask Severus to silence you?"

The shrieking and thrashing stopped suddenly, but it continued to gaze insolently at Aragorn. "Are you hungry?"

"We cannot eat it, precious. Nasty elf-food. No, not us..." The creature glared resentfully at Aragorn as if expecting pity. Severus felt none. He should take the food that is offered. Foul taste aside, Severus found that his hunger had abated completely. It was as if he had eaten a full meal.

"You must eat," Aragorn said gently. "It is good food."

"Just leave him," Severus said coldly.

"We cannot let him starve." Aragorn said firmly.

"It is his own choice." Aragorn gave him a long look before turning back to Smeagol.

"There will be game once we leave the marshes. We will feed you then."

"If you wish to waste good food on him..." Severus muttered. Aragorn pretended he hadn't heard.

"I must begin my journey once again, Severus. If you wish to ask me your questions, you will need to accompany me." Aragorn pushed the bread back into his pack. "I thank you for finding Gollum for me."

"Very well. I will follow you."

Severus shrank the pieces he had been given and put them into his pocket while the other man wasn't looking. He had never once in his life gone into the wilderness, but he felt it would be prudent to hide his lack of experience as much as possible. Aragorn was obviously extremely gifted at it, and Severus could use magic for every need but food. Aragorn began to undo the ropes binding Smeagol.

"Do you think that is wise?" Severus asked.

"I do not see any other way," Aragorn said. Severus caught himself before suggesting that he could levitate the creature. "We will have to keep close watch on him."

"We will obey," Smeagol said meekly. "Good masters will not hurt us!" The creature gave Severus a weary, frightful glance. Severus waited until Aragorn looked away to give a dark, menacing sneer in return, and was satisfied to see it cower in terror. "Nice master! Nice master will not hurt us, precious."

It quickly became obvious to Severus that Smeagol knew the path far better than Aragorn did, and Aragorn would often choose to follow the creature's lead. He pointedly did not mention this fact to Severus, which was even more interesting. The shrewd man had obviously been able to discern some of Severus' nature, even if only subconsciously. Severus would have objected openly, but the knowledge that he could always take to the air and fly away, weeks of food stowed in his pocket, meant that he found himself mostly unconcerned.

"You wished to ask me questions," Aragorn said as they wound their way through taller grasses. He found himself somewhat out of breath from the effort of keeping up with the trained warrior and the wiry creature. He could not deny that being the hated Headmaster of Hogwarts had left him little time for physical activity.

"The truth is that I'm not from here," Severus said between breaths. "I do not know where I come from is in relation to this place."

"That is curious," Aragorn said. "If I may ask, where are you from?"

"England... but I was last in Scotland." Severus was almost certain that this information could not be used against him.

"I have never heard of such places. Are they in the South?"

"No, they are very far north."

"Have you heard of Gondor? Arnor? Mordor?" Severus did not miss the subtle hunt of unease at the last word.

"None of those are familiar to me."

"That is curious, Severus. We must ask Gandalf when we meet him."

"Gandalf?"

"He is a sorcerer like yourself."

"Indeed? Wizards and muggles know of each other?"

"Muggles?" Aragorn frowned.

"Those without magic."

"All possess some magic, Severus."

"Perhaps... but those who cannot perform sorcery."

"Muggle sounds vulgar to me - almost like a curse."

"It is the word we use where I come from," Severus said impatiently.

"There are degrees of magic here. The five Wizards are the true sorcerers, but the Elves have their own magic, as do the Dwarves." Severus had nothing against them, but he did not particularly care about house elves and dwarves.

"That's true where I am from too. I was referring to humans only."

"Humans? You mean the race of Men?"

"Yes."

"Your question becomes clear, Severus. Men possess little magic, save those of the Dunedain."

"You are a Dunedain?" Severus asked. It would explain Aragorn's resistance to his Legilimency. Aragorn have him a shrewd look.

"You are perceptive, Severus. Yes, I am one of them, but we possess few abilities. Legend has it that we are descendents of the Elf Luthien. Only the five wizards possess true magic, and they are not true Men."

"That is interesting," Severus said. He felt no need to inform Aragorn that there were thousands of wizards where he was from. "Those places you mentioned. Where are they?"

Aragorn spend most of the rest of the night explaining each of the locations. His voice was full of pride as he described Gondor, the southern remnant of the great empire of Men that had once ruled the entire area that Severus found himself in. Aragorn became sadder as he moved on to Arnor, the doomed northern kingdom. It had been destroyed by a mysterious Dark sorcerer called the Witch-King of Angmar. Most of the names; mighty kings and great deeds and glorious battles; were quickly forgotten by Severus. He would need focused internal legilimency to recover the knowledge. The name Mordor sounded absurdly sinister even to Severus, so he was not surprised when Aragorn's voice dropped to a whisper.

"I would not speak of that here, but I cannot leave you ignorant." Severus could not deny that he was touched by the man's concern for his well being. "What do you know of Sauron the Great?"

"Nothing."

"He is the Dark Lord of Mordor." Severus forced his face to remain neutral, and Aragorn continued on a low voice while his mind reeled. The last thing he needed was another Dark Lord to deal with. He just hoped that Sauron wasn't his Dark Lord. "He was defeated thousands of years ago, but we have reason to believe he has returned."

"He's been alive for thousands of years?" Severus asked incredulously. The Philosopher's stone and Horcruxes could be used to keep a wizard alive forever, but, as far as anybody knew, none had lasted nearly that long. Herpo the foul had lived a shorter life than most, and Nicolas Flamel had ended his life voluntarily in his sixth hundred sixty-sixth year to keep the stone from Lord Voldemort.

"This surprises you?" Aragorn asked, frowning. "Many Elves have been alive that long as well."

"Elves? They live shorter lives than Men!" Aragorn laughed.

"Your elves are not ours then, my friend. Elves are immortal - they do not die save mortal injury."

"Sauron is an elf?"

"You would be wise to not throw that name around lightly," Aragorn said quickly. "It is an evil one."

"What should he called?"

"We call him the Enemy, or the Dark Lord." Severus could not stop a smile from creeping across his face as he remember Potter's accusation long ago. "That is amusing?"

"Nothing. Continue..."

"The Dark Lord is not an Elf. He is a Ainur, a Power of the World." Severus digested that. It sounded suspiciously like God, of the polytheistic kind. Were they more than mere myth after all? "The term is alien to you?"

"It is."

"Were you born of a woman, Severus?" Severus frowned. It was an odd question.

"I was."

"Will you die?"

"I believe so," Severus drawled.

"That is very curious. You are a mortal sorcerer - a true Man, like me."

"As far as I know."

"All other sorcerers are Ainur themselves." Severus seethed silently at Aragorn's uncanny ability to worm information out of him that he would have preferred, in retrospect, to not have been shared. "Sauron is powerful because the other Ainur have chosen not to interfere in our affairs. They sent the Wizards to help us. It would not surprise me if they sent you as well." Severus was about to tell Aragorn that he had, as far as he knew, not been sent on any divine quest, but thought better of it.

"The Dark Lord - does he have many followers?"

"We do not know how many servants the Dark Lord commands - tens, maybe hundreds of thousands hidden behind the Mountains of Shadow. His followers are many Men from the South and the East, as well as untold numbers of Orcs and other evil creatures."

"Does he command Wizards?"

"No, only the Witch-King, and he is only a Nazgul. They are his most powerful servants, but Galdalf tells me that their magic is derived from the Enemy himself and is not a part of their own nature."

"How's the war going?"

"The Dark Lord and his servant, the Witch King, have been threatening the borders of Gondor for hundreds of years. The White Council was able to drive him from Dol Guldur, but he has amassed great strength in Mordor." Severus could detect a weariness in Aragorn's tone.

"You are a soldier of Gondor?" Aragorn gave Severus a sharp look.

"That is information I cannot share," he said firmly.

"That nature of Smeagol?"

"That as well."

"Fair enough," Severus said patiently. "I thank you for the information you have given me, Aragorn."

"It was my pleasure, Severus. I hope with Gandalf's help we can uncover the reason for your sudden appearance."

They made camp after that. The sun had already climbed higher into the sky, and it peeked out of the clouds at several occasions. The muggy air was only getting colder, and Severus wished desperately for a warming charm. Aragorn painstakingly retied the bonds around a protesting Smeagol, but the wretch looked a lot less uncomfortable than he did under Severus' binding spell.

"I will take first watch," Aragorn said stoically. Severus thought for only a moment before he decided that sometimes, comfort could come before secrecy. He was tired, and unused to traveling on foot for many hours. He did not want to be woken and forced to sit idle for hours while Aragorn slept.

"I do not think that will be necessary. I can perform enchantments that will hide us from any observer."

"Friend or foe?"

"It does not discriminate."

"I do not know, Severus. We must watch Smeagol."

"He will not be a problem." Aragorn gave Severus a weary look, but it was clear the man was no more eager to stay on watch than Severus was. Severus set about muttering the enchantments. They had camped on a small island surrounded by tall reeds that grew out of a murky bog, and flies swarmed around the perimeter of Severus' repulsion charm like a cloud. It seemed that the curse was lessening as they neared the edge of the marsh.

"You possess great powers," Aragorn said. "I would offer to share my equipment in gratitude." Severus allowed himself to smile.

"That will not be needed." Severus was not as strong at transfiguration as he was at charms and potions, but his skills were still more than adequate. He took the time to focus, and with a practiced, complex motion of his wand he conjured an identical copy of Aragorn's camping gear. Several items, however, proved impossible to copy.

"They are Elf-made. Their magic cannot be so easily replicated," Aragorn said. "I must tell you of the Elves tomorrow." Aragorn's seemed to have lit up at the very mention of Elves, and Severus could tell that they were a topic very dear to him.

Severus performed a weak, but effective wordless confundus charm on Smeagol. He knew Aragorn would disapprove, but the treacherous nature of the creature was obvious to Severus, and he did not want to wake up to a rock in the back if the head. He created a crude covering for himself and, with some reluctance, for Smeagol as well.

The sun was low in the sky when they woke. Severus had not slept so well in many years, but every muscle in his body ached terribly from the unused to physical exertion the of the night before. He would normally have taken a mild pain relieving potion, but the distinct lack of both ingredients, equipment, or time meant that idea was not possible.

"You are unused to the wild," Aragorn said sympathetically as he saw Severus wincing in pain. "How is it you came to this place?"

"I do not wish to reveal that," Severus admitted. Aragorn did not seem surprised.

"You are shrewd, Severus, and slow to trust. I hope you will see me as a friend some day." Aragorn's words made Severus pause. Aragorn had been willing to trust him almost immediately, and was clearly not a matter of simple expediency. Most people took one look at Severus and decided he was up to no good.

"Why do you trust me?" Severus asked. Aragorn gave him a curious look.

"I cannot say. I trust my instincts; they have not failed me yet." Severus thought on that as he undid the charm on Smeagol.

"Cruel, wicked masters to leave Smeagol tied up," the creature cried as Aragorn undid its bonds. Severus rolled his eyes at the pathetic antics. "They kidnap us; starves us! They are nasty, false tricksy Men."

"I don't understand how such a pathetic creature could possibly be of use," Severus said nastily as they began to follow him through the endless, swampy expanse. Smeagol have him a resentful, hate-filled glare, but acted as if he had not heard.

"Smeagol is very cunning, Severus. It would be foolish to underestimate him." Severus snorted in derision.

"I know his type. He poses no threat as long as your back isn't turned and you aren't stupid enough to trust him." Severus continued to stare contemptuously at the wretch as it crawled ahead if them and out of earshot. It moved more like a spider than the humanoid it resembled, and it muttered constantly to itself.

Aragorn seemed more passionate as he explained the Elves to Severus then when he had explained the kingdoms of Men. He was raised among them when his father was killed by goblins, which were apparently far more malicious and violent than the merely shrewd and unpleasant creatures Severus was familiar with. For all their faults, the goblins of Britain would never serve a Dark Wizard, if only because they wouldn't serve any wizard.

"Is Elrond the ruler of where we are going?" Severus asked. Aragorn clearly wanted to continue discussing his foster-home in Rivendell, but he allowed Severus to change the subject.

"No, we seek the realm of Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm. It lies within Mirkwood, directly north of us."

"How far is it?"

"We will be able to acquire mounts after we cross the Emyn Muil," Aragorn explained, gesturing to the harsh, barren hills that were has steadily approached through the night. They looked like silent, imposing, ragged shadows in the moonlight. "We will travel from there to the the Anduin, just north of the Rauros."

"The Anduin?" Severus asked.

"It is a great river. It will take us up along the west of Mirkwood, where we can enter the Elf Road, and from there, the Woodland Realm."

"Do you have a map?" Severus asked. He could not wrap his mind around all the names Aragorn was throwing out. They all sounded equally alien and confusing to him.

"Maps? Such a valuable thing could not be risked on my journey. The skill and knowledge required to craft a map is not common, friend." Severus scoffed. "You disagree?"

"Do you have parchment or paper?" Severus asked.

"None that I would spoil," Aragorn said. Severus glared at him resentfully. "Do not take offense. I have none that are yet to be written upon."

Severus pondered the odd primitiveness of the muggles in this world. He disdained muggle technology as much as any wizard, but even he could not deny that its absence was a huge frustration. It would take them nearly a month to make the journey to Mirkwood, if Aragorn's reckoning was true; even flying would take Severus weeks. Severus would be able to Apparate with ease, but Apparition was extremely dangerous unless he had visited the destination first.

On the other hand, without any apparent Ministry of Magic breathing down everyone's neck, he was free to create a Portkey wherever and whenever he desired. He could perform magic whenever he wanted, in front of whoever he wanted, though prudence would warn against that. He could perform Dark Magic with impunity, including the Unforgivable curses, and he no longer needed to report to either the Dark Lord or Dumbledore.

Severus could not deny that, crushing grief over his wasted life aside, he was feeling far more optimistic than he had in nearly two decades. That Aragorn seemed to be willing to count him a friend already was a surprising bonus. He, unlike Dumbledore, treated Severus as a true equal. He had not had that since Lily, and with her, he had always hidden a bitter envy that had exploded out on that horrible day and ruined everything.

The reached the foot of the Emyn Muil as twilight turned into dawn, and the sun began to peek out over the distant, faint Mountains of Shadow. The hills loomed high above, looking almost like mountains in their own right to Severus, who had never left the British Islands. They were almost entirely bare, with black and gray, jagged rock inter-spaced with rare patches of grass and moss.

"See? See? We leads them true, Precious. Kind masters will be generous, yes?" Smeagol pleaded, it's pale eyes on Aragorn and pointedly avoiding Severus.

"Yes, you have kept your word, Gollum," Aragorn said. "We will allow you to remain unbound." Severus nearly choked.

"Are you completely mad?" Aragorn's grey eyes had a stubborn glint.

"Gollum has kept his word, Severus. We cannot leave him tied up. We must show that his cooperation will be rewarded. I will take first watch, and wake you later in the afternoon." Severus sputtered in outrage.

"Perhaps I will leave you to your own devices," Severus said nastily. Aragorn sat down, and pulled his sword out. He began to idly run a cloth along the blade.

"You may do as you wish," Aragorn said patiently, and Severus seethed. "It will sadden me to see you leave."

Severus petulantly rolled out his sleeping bag onto the hard ground. If there was one benefit to walking for ten hours straight, it was that insomnia was no longer an issue, and before he knew it, he was rudely awakened by Aragorn. The ache in his calves and feet seemed to have only intensified during his too brief nap.

"Wake me when the sun touches the top of the that hill," Aragorn gestured to a tall outcropping just west of them. "Do not let Gollum out of your sight. He is very dangerous." Aragorn climbed into his absurdly elegant tent, and Severus could hear him snoring almost immediately.

"Is master tired?" Smeagol asked gently, and Severus could swear that the wretch was mocking him. His eyes closed. "Good, good, go to sleep. You can trust us."

Severus jerked his head up, and stood up, his wand raised.

"No, no, mustn't be cruel, precious," Smeagol whined. "We will wake other master, nice master! We will." Smeagol's blue eyes were fixed on Severus' own, and Severus could see the dislike in them.

"You will be silent, and you will sit still," Severus said firmly. "I tire of your idiotic antics, creature."

"Nasty, wicked master," Smeagol muttered, his resentful eyes breaking contact. "It hates us; it hates us because it is like us, yes, not like nice master; it knows darkness." Severus felt the hairs standing up on the back of his neck as Smeagol's voice lowered to a whisper. "Oh yes, we sees it. We knows its secret."

"Be quiet," Severus snapped, glaring menacingly at the creature, his tone becoming very harsh. Smeagol flinched pathetically and obeyed. Severus sat down once again on a small, hard outcropping, and stared at the creature. His eyes began to feel heavy, and after several near-misses where his head nodded, he realized that he would need to keep himself distracted. "Why are you unable to speak properly?"

"What does it mean, precious?"

"What is precious? Why do you keep saying that?" Severus asked harshly, his tone full of irritation. Smeagol ignored his question. Severus had not expected an answer, but he had little else to do, and he could not deny his amusement. He had greatly enjoyed tormenting Wormtail at his home in Spinner's End, but Wormtail always reminded him painfully of the past, and how he was as much responsible for Lily's death as traitor. "Do you ever sleep?"

"We sleeps... when we wants to," Smeagol said coldly. Severus stared resentfully up at the sky. He doubted more than half an hour had passed. "Master should sleep. Needs his strength; not like nice master. He is weak; weak and wretched, not able to live in the wild."

Severus sat for a long while. He went over the things Aragorn had told him. He was not on Earth anymore. That much was clear. There were no places called Gondor or Mordor, nor had there ever been in known history. Perhaps he had gone hundreds of years into a post-apocalyptic future? Maybe he had gone to another dimensions. He didn't know. If Dumbledore was to believed, there was an afterlife. Severus could only assume he was in it. Was he in Purgatory? Was this a way for him to redeem his rotten soul? He didn't know.

Smeagol continued to glare at him petulantly. Severus could not see more than a nervous rush of jumbled emotions when he attempted passive legilimency, but he was unwilling to attempt a more direct method while the creature was fully awake and aware. Some madness seemed to drive Smeagol, because the creature muttered and grumbled continuously throughout the night. It was only as the sun was approaching the point in the hill which meant that Aragorn would continue his journey that he saw the creature's eyes grow heavy and its muttering cease. Severus surreptitiously pointed his wand at it, his mouth forming the incantation as his mind prepared to attack.

Smeagol jerked awake instantly, eyes narrowed and wide mouth set into a frown. "What is it doing, precious? Nasty Wizard wants to hurt us. We will wake nice master, if he does. Won't we, precious?"

His opportunity lost, Severus felt a flash of frustrated rage. In a moment of blind anger, he decided to go ahead with his plan anyway, and he jabbed his wand forward.

"Legilimens!"

He was strangling a short, broad man. He jerked him back and forth, his mind mad with greed... He was digging through fishbones and small stones, his fingers slick with grime, but it wasn't there. He was panicking now, desperately trying to reassure himself... He was crying in agony. He cursed the Dark Lord. He cursed Baggins. He cursed every hobbit in the Shire. Only when the torturers stopped their work did he realize he had spoken aloud... He felt a rush of invisible air above him, and he grabbed desperately for it, but it was too late, and he cursed bitterly at its retreat... He pulled the surprisingly heavy gold band from the dead finger, and examined it. It was very plane and unadorned, but very beautiful. He put it on... He was climbing to his feet, humiliated, as James Potter flirted shamelessly with Lily. He could tell she was enjoying it, and he shouted out the most hurtful thing he could think of...

Severus cried out as he broke the connection, but it was too late. Smeagol had already lunged at Severus faster than he would have thought possible, and he was knocked from his feet. Smeagol wrenched the wand from his fingers, and aimed it at him. Severus only had a split second to watch in horror as it let out a burst of uncontrolled magic, and both he and the creature were thrown back. Aragorn was already emerging from his tent, sword raised, but it was too late. Smeagol was already scrambling away in a mad dash up a sheer rock face like a gigantic, pale spider.