Disclaimer: Nothing mine besides the original characters and the alternate storyline, everything else belongs to their rightful owners, I don't earn anything with it.

Welcome to this story :) I hope you will like it.

Note: This story is mostly imbedded in the book version of the stories (but I keep a soft flowing border there –whatever is best for my story lol) and the focus is on the relationships between my original character and those amazing characters of Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter.

This isn't a tenth walker story _means no tenth person following along the journey of the fellowship. Nope. That would have been way too boring to write. My character gets own unique adventures and I tried to keep the characters as close to the books as possible.

It's not a puppet story either, means no damsel in distress, no shallow characters and no non existing plotlines. So translated this means: This story tells about the backgrounds of characters, they also have more than one side/character trade (mostly). It has a plot with a red string (at least I love to believe that). I also put some thought in having an adventure and not just a love story. I tried to include the political happenings and to stay true to the timeline… but as this is a very complex story... I said I tried lol.

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Prologue/Content:

This is a love story between Lyra, Lady and Head of the most noble and ancient house of Black and Elrond Lord of Rivendell. This happens after the battle of Hogwarts and is altered due the fact that Lyra was best friends with Harry, Ron, Draco and Hermione. Mostly everything happened as in the books, besides that there was Lyra included and she and her friends decided that after so many people were lost in the final battle that they had to do something. They tried to rewrite history and send their memories of everything that happened back to the past. (Using an old ritual that only Draco and her knew about as it was only known to old families) So the second time around Lyra knew with the age of four what was to come. She killed her abusive guardians (the Black Matriarch) and took on the title "head of house". Harry claimed his title as Lord Potter and they took over the Wizengamoth, using political maneuvers and their resourcefulness' to change laws and society. With the age of 13 they had outsmarted Voldemort, destroyed all his Horcruxes, deprived him of his financial and human resources and thought they had won.

But they made a big mistake. !A very big mistake! In the first timeline Dumbledore thought himself in a superior position and most of all in control. While Grindelwald and Voldemort choose the offensive way of power, he chose the silent one; he controlled everything from the shadows. Harry's set up with the Dursleys leading up to his free sacrifice for the sake of the society... and many more things Lyra would always only be able to guess about.

In the second timeline Dumbledore lost control and while Lyra and Harry and their alliances were busy with defeating Voldemort, he felt his only chance for power now, was to choose the offensive way too. He shaded his role as grandfatherly leader and shortly after defeating Voldemort the war started again. With the age of seventeen, Lyra was youngest potions mistress, war veteran and one of the few survivors of the battle of Hogwarts were Dumbledore led the last followers of Voldemort and some brainwashed members of the Order of phoenix against the students and some of their friends.

At the same time just a reality far away, Lord Elrond lived in Rivendell and faced the rising threat of Sauron. He, like many of his kin fought next to Gilgalad against that evil spirit in the second age. They suffered great losses but gained times of peace in the third age. It still hurt him to have lost his king, Gilgalad on the battlefield as well as their ally Elendil king of Gondor and one of his relations, a descendant of his brother's line. Elrond had seen how Elendil's heir cut the ring from Sauron's hand and he was the one who wasn't able to convince Isildur to destroy it in the fires of mount doom.

After Elrond's wife Celebrian, daughter of lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel, got mortally injured during an orc attack, he was lost in grief. It took him a long time to accept that she was gone. She had left the safety of their home because of her hot headed decision to travel with a too small party during times of great danger. He looked after their three children, his twin sons Elrohir and Elladan and his beautiful daughter Arwen alone, after he sent his wife to Valinor to receive healing from the Valar, as it was her only chance of survival. He never heard of his wife again but his heart was with her and he hoped that if fate was kind enough and he survived the upcoming battles than they would be reunited in the sacred land.

At the time this story starts, Elrond was plagued with the foresight of dangerous times and trouble. He feared that his clinging to the hope of a peaceful era, had allowed himself to overlook a threat in the shadows. He hadn't listened to Gandalf's warnings in the past and the council that had sworn to keep watch, to protect middle earth, may have let the shadow grow unthreatened for too long. They had long noticed the increased numbers of enemies and raids close to their borders but now it seemed that something old and evil had woken. …Something that had hidden in the darkness, waiting, waiting for the right time and for their weakness. It was ready to attack now and if it would succeed it would destroy all life in middle earth.

As Mithrandir reached his valley on the back of one of the Meara, telling him of Saruman's treason and the danger the Hobbits must be in, he sent Lord Glorfindel to find his son Estel and the small people in the wilderness. …All the while plagued with worry as his world was turning to its darkest hour.

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"Never cross path with a Black"

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Chapter 1 Patronus

Blood dropped from her arm and she couldn't breathe anymore. Her vision was blurred and she felt how unconsciousness tried to claim her, despite all the adrenaline in her body.

She was still fighting her crazy aunt, Bellatrix and three others of Voldemort's inner circle that was now under Dumbledore's control. She just saw how they aimed at a first year student to kill or maim the poor child, like they had done countless times before. At the same moment she saw how a powerful golden light erupted from the center of the castle and she knew they had won. The powerful light expanded like a golden shield and any enemy of Hogwarts got destroyed, some tried to flee but none escaped the growing bubble of golden light. The castle itself was finally woken again and with fierce passion it cleaned away all the dirt, which should have never been allowed to set foot on the grounds.

They had won, yes... but to what prize?

She stood there, with tears running down her cheeks. She knew that the appearance of the light could only mean that Harry, Ron, Draco and Hermione had been successful and had sacrificed themselves. She stood there with the last remaining fighters on the outer skirts of the Hogwarts grounds, the tiny rest of what had been a proud place with a proud history. She wouldn't live much longer as too many curses had hit her already tortured body, but with her last breath she would save the kid's life. She ran forward and shoved the student to the direction where the light was coming to them.

Lyra Phoenix Black was hit by three curses simultaneously to the strange golden light that she knew as the ancient soul wards of Hogwarts. Then she knew no more.

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Meanwhile, far away there fought four hobbits against myriads of gnats while they tried to find a way through the marshes. Their leader, a man called strider by the people of Bree, was not concerned in the slightest by the small devils; he just went on and on and on. Sam even thought that their tormentor took amusement out of their suffering. The light of the day started to fade away and ever so slowly the group's mood began to drop even more, especially Frodo's.

It was always in the dark of the night, when the terrors of the shadows haunted him the most. He grew silent and his face showed signs of worry. Only Sam recognized the signs and he was worried for his friend. Frodo lost his appetite and that was a really bad sign concerning a hobbit, as if the Nazgul weren't bad enough.

A screech- As if they had heard his thoughts, there was suddenly a scream. As high and unearthly as it could only be them. Also the sound was not far enough away for their liking. The scratching sound of those monsters, it went deep inside you and tried to squash your heart. It was then that Aragorn forced them to walk faster.

Not far away from them there lay a bundle of black cloth, at least this was what the hobbits could make out. In the twilight it wasn't easy to tell but the ranger seemed concerned. Strider started to move faster and hurried over to the dark point currently located to their left.

It was a woman, Aragorn was shocked. He couldn't make out much more than a bloody mess. Violent gashes could be seen throughout the clothing but oddly enough not fitting for and wild animal attack as there weren't bite marks to be found. He also ruled an orc attack out as their arrows and knives left different signs in their victims and seldom did the victims have all their limps left after such an encounter. Whatever riddles lay beyond the surface of this situation, it had ended fatal.

It was obvious to Strider that they could do nothing more than spend their condolence… but as he kneeled next to the body he noticed a breath. Ever so slight but steady, there was still life in this strange woman. Aragorn sighed.

He couldn't leave her behind, not when there was the slightest chance that she could make it. Out there in the wilderness they were her only chance, no wanderer passed by, no one could help her beside them. The ranger was at a loss, it was still far until Rivendell and they couldn't afford to make a detour. No they had to take her along or leave her to a certain death in the wilderness. He could only hope that she wouldn't slow them down too much, the dark riders were close and they had to hurry.

Long after sunset they reached the weather top, all hobbits were exhausted not only had they never walked so fast in their lives, they also had to carry much of their bags themselves now as their pony "Bill" had to carry the young maiden. She was completely limb on the animal's back. She had neither stirred nor woken. The ranger had tried to tend to her worst wounds but had found that he was unable to remove her dark armor. Not even calling forth his heritage and power had helped him in his endeavor. So instead of looking after her wounds he could only try to feed her some water and elvish healing broth.

Her breath was flat but steady; she seemed in a deep unconsciousness. Even though this meant so much more trouble for all of them, they couldn't bring themselves to mind, none of the hobbits would have let a maiden to die out there in the marshes. It was just unfortunate that there was no way to give her the rest she needed; hopefully she would make it to the elves, alive.

While the ranger left to look for traces of danger and to get some herbs for the maiden, the Hobbits settled to camp for the night. Their thoughts weren't plagued too long with dark things as they got a small fire to burn and could roast some food. While trying to create a meal from the scarce resources they had, Sam decided that he would wake Frodo and get him to at least eat a few bites.

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Lyra smelled smoke and food, delicious food.

For hell's sake she was so hungry... she opened her eyes.

Where was she?

Nothing of the surroundings was familiar and least of all the very small man sitting around a fire. There was a pony close by with a lot of bags piled up near it and on top of the hill she saw the ruins of an old tower, but that wasn't even close to what Hogwarts should look like. Lyra was alarmed, was she taken prisoner? Did they try to break her with illusions and mind attacks…again? No she was sure that she had seen the soul wards... it was finally over, they had won the battle. She got hit by those curses. What happened and why wasn't she dead?

She never found time to think about any of this closer_ because at that moment she heard the scariest sound, she had ever heard in her life. That included even the screeching sounds and maniac laughs during her torture sessions, under the skilled hands of her late grandmother, the Black Matriarch. It made her shudder and there wasn't much anymore that could cause such a reaction from her. A freezing feeling started to creep through her body. It started at the bloody gashes and other wounds and spread from there. It became somehow mollifying and luring. She felt the forcing wish to just go back to unconsciousness.

It would be so easy to just lean back and give in, what did she care about life anymore?

All people she cared for were dead, everything she had strived for was irrelevant now... so Lyra just lean back, go to sleep, close your eyes, forever.

The small men started talking wildly and Lyra got startled out of her thoughts. It was like a wakeup call, breaking through the icy mist. It brought her back to reality. Lyra's survival instincts went into motion and her entire body jumped back into battle state. The woman noticed at that moment that she understood nothing of the short and scared sounds the small ones made. It was a foreign language. It took all of her slowly gained rationality to shove all thoughts about what the hell was going on, away and follow the priorities. Check surroundings, people and resources but most important of all: survive!

Due to her heritage as Black and the cruelty of the wars Lyra controlled the mind arts masterfully. Protecting her mind had been necessity to survive. She also wasn't above gaining revenge with gleaning secrets out of family members to further ensure her survival. So using her years of expertise she started to ever so softly probe the mind of one of the younger looking Men.

What she found there was fear and worry, pictures of green hills and farmers... A beautiful and lush landscape rushed through his memory. Oh, they were hobbits and they had found her and tried to tend to her wounds, at least a ranger called Strider did. Where was this Strider?

Never mind that had to wait for later. Lyra used an old translation spell on the closest of the small men and copied his feeling and familiarity for his language and inserted it in her own mind. She made sure not to hurt anyone; she wasn't going to antagonize her probably only allies in this strange land. The spell she used was old and never public knowledge, like most of those spells which got invented by one of her ancestors. True Blacks kept their secrets. It was better than anything that was taught at Hogwarts or someone could have learned from books, it gave the caster the ability to understand and speak a foreign language like their own. She suppressed a memory of an encounter with Hermione. Her friend had been terrible angry and insulted as she had found out how much knowledge was kept from people like her, from mudbloods. Lyra returned to the present as the small people spoke again and she was actually able to understand them this time.

"It's them they are coming. The riders are here."

"What shall we do?"

"Where is Strider?"

They seemed to panic. Lyra remained calm; she was just too used to situations like this. So she didn't freak out anymore.

It was really hard to get up… but she managed. While getting on her feet, she had a hard time to breathe as her lungs hurt badly. She shoved the pain back to the parts of her brain that where furthest away and shielded them off with heavy occlumentic wards. It dulled the pain enough so she could overcome it and focus on the present disaster. As she finally stood, she spoke as calm but clear as possible.

"Young men, please calm down. Let's gather upstairs where we have the best view."

Frodo was shocked. The woman that had slept for two days stood behind them and spoke with them calmly... and she was right, if they remained at their current position, they would have the Nazgul in their backs. Lyra told them to hurry and not long after the first screech they were all upstairs _including the pony and their stuff.

The witch found some wooden sticks on the floor. They were pieces of dried roots which were tingling all over the ruins. With them she started a small fire; she wordlessly helped it in size and intensity. As Lyra didn't want to scare the hobbits too much with conjuring blue flames, she kept her workings concealed and silent.

Then she felt the chill, it grew intensely cold.

Oh no, not Dementors!

She fought her raging memories down, while trying to remain calm on the outside. It was hard as all the horrors of the past tried to gain control over her. With all the bad things she had experienced… with everyone dead that she had ever loved, how would she produce a Patronus?

"You have to, because you have to live on for us, for everything we believed in. Please remember the good times, the fun we had."

The voice was faint and just inside her mind but she knew it was Harry's voice. It had to be. She swallowed and battled against the rising memories. After everything the boy had been through with his vile guardians he had never given up, never. And he was right, she wouldn't give up either. She would fight because she was a Gryffindor and they fought until their last breath and they fought to protect others and at the moment there were four others to keep safe. ...The happiest memory she had, was the one as her friends broke her out. After months of torture under the cruel hands of her own aunt and uncle and the third dark lord trying to break her mind, they had found her. They had never given up the hope that she was still alive, that somehow she waited for them. Their teary faces were imprinted in her mind. She would never forget how they carried her out of the dungeon and got her to the hospital while constantly repeating that she was still alive, that they could feel her heartbeat, she had been too weak to respond.

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They felt it; their master's ring was so close… Soon they would hand it to the great eye and the fool who kept it away from them would suffer. He would be cowering in front of the feet of their great master shivering in fear. They would shrink away from the ever burning mind, all seeing, no secret would be kept from their great lord and his enemies would be begging for mercy.

Khamul laughed, it wasn't an earthly laughter and no one who wasn't bound to the shadow realm could hear it. It only echoed through the world of the undead but he got satisfied answers from his fellow Nazgul. Their leader the great witch king of Angmar led four of the Nine up the old tower of Amon Sul. His mind filled with cruel memories. It was his army who had torn down the legendary realm of Arnor and he would tear this tower down once again. Nothing would survive; they would destroy everything that was between them and their master's ring.

Whoever hid up there wasn't safe from his wraith, no one messed with their great master's plan and those worms had bothered him long enough. They slowly reached the top of the former watchtower and the luring song of the ring got clearer with every step they took. It was cruel and ice cold malice and it was also the most beautiful perfect and terrifying thing they had ever listened too.

They also sensed five foolish creatures in front of them; they could feel the pulsing of their hearts… the life in them. Rage filled the cruel undead beings, as life was nothing but a fading memory inside of them they envied any being for the gift they no longer possessed. The witch king felt that one of the fools opposing them, held the ring. A silent command was all that was needed and his wraiths moved. They gathered in front of the fool always feeling their master's cruel will forcing them to proceed. The mortals were doomed. Their defiance was meaningless, he was the witch king and with Khamul his second in command this foolish mortals faced the most dangerous weapons of the dark lord Sauron. He laughed.

At that very moment three things happened at the same time.

First, Lyra called her wand from the wand holster and stood protective in front of the hobbits. Her face was pale and she seemed to hardly breathe. The situation looked worse with every second and she was close to fainting again.

Second, in his panic Frodo drew the ring and put it on his pointer finger and third there appeared a man with a lit torch in one hand and a sword in the other. With a scream he attacked the cloaked creatures and tried to fend them off. He got those high screams as answer and the creatures seemed raged.

Khamul got annoyed with that long lost son of that destroyed empire, nowadays they worked as rangers and hunters. They were long ago deprived of their home and prestige. Merely leftovers of a lost kingdom, the last dunadain of the north and he himself was going to enjoy it to cause the end for that man. He would find a painful end in the ruins of their lost history. Khamul engaged the ranger in a duel and the other Wraiths joined in with glee but the witch king had only one goal: to get the ring and the bearer.

He drew the Morgul blade and attacked an empty spot on the floor. There was a muffled scream but Lyra didn't notice. Lyra drew in a rattling breath. With all her willpower she forced herself to cling to the memory of seeing her friends' faces_ how much relief she had felt. How at that moment there hadn't been anything more beautiful in the world than their voices. Then she had gathered enough positive feelings to release her powerful guardian. A white light appeared, at first it was milky and seemed to waver. She drew in the air sharply and forced her friends' happy faces in the front of everything. It worked; the light grew bright and warm.

She was disturbed again; there was a heavy presence on the outer periphery of her mind. It felt like an ancient and cruel power looking for her, as if it was trying to solve a puzzle. Lyra knew that her mind shields wouldn't break, she had designed them herself. She would use up her last bit of life force to power the shields until the very end. It would finally kill her but she would take her secrets with her. She would rather die than let anyone know what was in her mind.

It was just that the presence was so different from every mind that she had ever fought against… it was huge, old and powerful. Maybe she would fail?

Lyra stop thinking like that, if you start doubting yourself then your enemy has already won.

She knew that she hadn't much time left and with all her might she concentrated on her memories and then it happened. The light grew as bright as the sun and erupted forcefully and fast from her wand and all of the dark cloaked creatures were thrown off. The evil presence was gone too.

A predator, a huge cat as they only existed far south of Harad, circled around the small group. It was made of white light and radiated warmth and made all shadows flee it. The ranger was shocked; he stared at the spirit being not knowing if he should be grateful that the wraiths were gone or if he should be alarmed that this woman seemed to be a greater threat. The ranger had scouted the area and when he came back he had felt the Nazgul.

His heart had paused for a moment fearing he was already too late, that the wraiths had finished their mission and that his companions were dead. As he appeared on the battlefield he knew he wasn't too late but that their chances were nonexistent. The witch king himself had been there and he knew that he would die while protecting Frodo. Even as descendent of Numenor he couldn't fight off five of the Wraiths on his own.

They were the lieutenants of Sauron and only because of his wish that they would remain hidden and didn't show off their true powers; they had even made it so far. Yes the captain of Dunadain feared what the witchcraft of their leader could have done to them, but every kind of sorcery drew attention and Sauron's wish at the moment was to stay hidden. Sauron wished to prevent anyone knowing of his quest to reclaim what always was his. The ring of power, the master ring; He had sent his servants out in secret to recapture the path the ring must have taken, falling into one naïve hand after another.

Yet at that moment the Nazgul were so close to the ring, they would most likely use all their powers to claim it and Aragorn knew they were lost. In grabbing reach of their master's treasure they had no more reason to contain themselves. If just Mithrandir was there and not just a sign left by him on a stone. Strider used his torch and sword and tried to keep the wraiths away from the Hobbits. He saw that the witch king ignored him and went straight to the small ones and Aragorn's heart sunk.

But none of his fears came true, because of her. The woman they had found in the marshes stood there and conjured a light as bright as the sun and the shadows fled for their lives. Within seconds everything was over and they were left to try and understand what had happened.

Then he heard Frodo scream again, he couldn't see him and immediately knew that he had used the ring. With long steps he went to the spot where the sound came from.

"Put the ring away you fool."

His voice was far harsher than intended; it wasn't the fault of the hobbit but his own for leaving them alone. He had known that the black riders had been close but he had chosen to look around for the best route to take, only to realize that he needed to be exactly where he had come from. He had hurried all the way back, praying that he wouldn't be too late.

Lyra couldn't believe what she saw, there lay the hobbit called Frodo wincing in pain, but he hadn't been visible moments before. It seemed that where ever she was, magic seemed to be much more common around here than she had thought. She coughed and blood came from her mouth, without thought she reached for a pepper up potion in her pockets and downed it. It was a move that she was so used too, that she did it subconsciously. Potions had become her lifeline. Since years they prolonged her existence in this realm, preventing her from following the rest of her family into the family mausoleum. It didn't matter and she forced all disturbing thoughts away. She needed to focus on her task.

Then she went to work, like in all the years on the run she moved without emotions like a machine. Her steps became sharp and her movements clear. With routine and speed she started to weave one protection after another. She let her panther Patronus circle around the group and casted wandlessly a "muffliato" and raised a shield that covered them from curious looks.

Strider was even more intrigued; he couldn't let the female out of his focus. She was powerful and even though she had banished the darkness, nothing could tell him if she wasn't the worse threat. So after a short look around to make sure nothing of Sauron's creatures had lingered he focused back on her. Not just was this woman able to fight off the wraiths, she also seemingly created a kind of barrier at least that was what he could feel. It had felt like a soft cloak of calm and silence had been drawn around them.

Aragorn shook his head and moved to the hobbit. He sat down next to Frodo and tried to remove the knife from his shoulder but the blade broke. He cursed even with all his healing abilities this turned into a nightmare. The knife he held in his hand had splintered and was now crumbling to dust, so that he only had the hilt in his hands. A black curse activated it was the specialty of Sauron himself. He felt how a shadow creeped up his arm and he threw the hilt away.

"By the Valar that was a Morgul blade, they tried to poison Frodo."

He swore, because he knew that the hobbit needed the healing skills of Lord Elrond to survive this, only the strength and wisdom of the eldest would be able to counter such evil witchcraft but they were still far away from the last homely house.

_Too far away_

Lyra came closer as she saw the blade crumble, that seemed to be a nasty curse. Using her senses she attuned with the life force in Frodo. It was one of the abilities which had come with her potions mastery, the ability to sense potion ingredients merge. Useful and a life saver, every time one of her friends lay on her table cursed and dying…

She felt the layers of magic, a feeling of sickness settled in her stomach. That was how disorder or a looming potions accident made themselves known. Many more exploding cauldrons would have added her career list if not for her sensibility. She followed the feeling of sickness and wrongness and searched Frodo's body for interferences. The Hobbit was fading in and out of consciousness while breathing heavily, at first she thought that maybe his lungs were harmed too but it seemed caused by the curse rather than the cut itself. As she finally located the curse she paled, this was a strong one, too strong, one that she wouldn't be able to heal.

Her heart dropped, it was such an evil thing with such a gripping power. She had to be careful to not get affected herself. There was nothing she could do right now. Not without an excellent equipped potions lab, months of time and at least four others to help her. There was no chance, as it seemed that the hobbit was already fading. His heart and other body functions already suffered and started to show irregularities. At this rate he wouldn't live through the next two days.

Her thoughts were disturbed by the rusty voice of strider.

"We need to reach the elven home; Lord Elrond's healing skills are his only chance of survival. If we can make it, that is, we are still days off."

"There is a chance to heal something like this?"

He looked at her intensely but nodded shortly.

"There are very few left in this world who would be able to accomplish a feat like that but if there is still hope than it rests in Rivendell."

That didn't sound good.

He had said they were still days off but the Hobbit wouldn't live that long not if his state would continue to get worse at the same rate. Two days the most and it wouldn't be enough to reach the elven home. There was a look between Aragorn and her. It was a silent understanding between warriors facing hopelessness. They faced a lost battle but had to fight it anyway. They knew but couldn't tell Frodo's companions.

She looked into Sam's eyes and her heart clenched. She wasn't one for giving in. If she couldn't heal the small one then maybe there was another way. What did she need? More time was the right answer. She thought about it and came to the conclusion that if she couldn't heal Frodo then maybe she could buy some time to get him where he needed to be. It was hard to keep her mind focused but she accomplished to think through all options they had. Then she had an idea. It had helped her; in fact it was the only reason why she was still alive… Maybe it would help the small one too? Still not entirely sure if it would work but knowing that there was nothing else she could do she tried to explain her idea to Strider.

"We don't know each other and you have absolutely no reason to trust me. I also have no way to prove my intensions to you but maybe I know a way to help."

Aragorn's eyes narrowed and Lyra knew of no way to sugar coat her words. She had no way of proving that she meant no harm. On the other hand she had no reason to harm them either but that didn't seem to matter. At least it did not matter for them and not in this situation. She tried again.

She pointed to the periphery of the camp. They put Frodo for a moment into Sam's care and strider followed her a few steps aside where the hobbits couldn't listen in. She whispered her next words carefully:

"I have lots of practice as healer but truth is that I know of no way to heal Frodo."

She stopped looking into his eyes hoping for understanding or even a chance but if the ranger wanted to he could put the best poker players to shame. No reaction crossed his face.

"We both know he won't survive the journey if we cannot trap the curse and stop it from spreading. His heart shows already irregularities and I don't think he will last more than two days. I thought about all possibilities and maybe I know a way to raise our chances."

The man called Strider looked deep into her eyes searching for something. He was weary of the young woman who had shown so much power in just a few minutes and had accomplished things his men couldn't do and even the elves would struggle with. He didn't know what to think, he always found himself capable of judging character but not in this case. Even creepier was that her emotions didn't show in her eyes. Her eyes seemed cold and void of every feeling but her voice showed concern for the small Hobbit and she had protected them. He took a moment to weigh the possibilities.

"I will allow you to help him but you will explain to me in advance everything that you will do."

Lyra agreed to his demand and told him of the stasis potion they had invented. In the war they all fought in small units and she had been the appointed healer to her team. At least in the beginning, at the end everyone could step in the role of the others. They had been like a well-oiled engine. In battle they were often hit by more than one curse and then the magic started to mutate so no one would be able to reverse it so easily. To save her friends she fed them the stasis potion to win time, to bring them to the head base and experiment with cures… It didn't heal but it bought time and that was of importance here. It was their best chance or rather their only chance.

Strider did not easily agree with the potion but he knew what he could achieve with the resources he had and that wouldn't be enough. So against his better judgement he finally allowed her to proceed. Lyra felt relief but it only lasted for a few moments she still had a challenge ahead of her.

The ranger still went with Sam to the nearby forest. They were looking for Athelas to clean the wound and start to mollify the curse. He might not be as skilled as his father but he wouldn't do less than the best he could. It would at least help and the hobbit needed something to do to put his mind away from Frodo. While they were away Lyra ran diagnostic charms. While attuning again to Frodo she sensed a particular evil and cold part of Frodo's shoulder.

The results of her tests weren't hopeful, there was still a splinter left inside the wound. It moved slowly closer to the heart and if they moved Frodo to transport him to Rivendell his condition would get worse. She told Merry and Pippin about it. They were worried and asked her what to do. She sighed. It was a good question. The only thing she could try was to pull it out. She told them to not interrupt her while she would try her best on the wound. Their faces had gone white but they nodded.

She concentrated on her wandless magic. It was going very slow and she felt how she got more and more exhausted. It wouldn't take long until she would lose consciousness again but she kept going. Slowly she dived inside the wound with her senses and located the metallic piece. Softly and most careful she wrapped a net of magic around the piece and was ever so careful to not activate any kind of defense from the curse. She also had to be very careful to not hurt any important vein or nerve.

Before she could start to pull it out, a presence turned towards her as if she would be examined. She felt how the curse expanded towards her direction finding itself another victim that it would slowly eat away. Lyra felt the coldness and it was the same feeling like the cruel presence from before _as if it had returned to ensnare her.

It held luring power and tried to make her give in and lay down, lay down to rest forever. Only because of her vast experience with curses and jinxes in the house of Black she was able to see through the seducing front and notice its true intention. She knew better than to give it any time to lure her away...

Somehow it had its center on Frodo's chest but she had no time to figure out any specifics, not when Frodo was losing so much blood while she worked there. Lyra increased her mind shields on maximum level and shut herself completely off. Like diving into a bubble of silence and ice cold water, as the waves closed above her head and she felt the world muting out she was finally able to focus on what she needed to do. She didn't notice her surroundings anymore. In this state there existed only one thing and that was her task, there were no sounds, no thoughts, no other people, nothing. It worked fine; slowly she gained control over the shard and pulled it back out.

Merry saw nothing but the concentration on the maidens face. She kneeled beside their friend and one of her hands lay on his forehead while the other hovered ten centimeters above his wound. Merry was shocked when more blood bubbled from Frodo's shoulder and Pippin made a sharp sound too, but they knew better than to disturb her concentration. After a moment the blood turned black and a second later a small sharp splinter slowly floated out and halted in the air.

Lyra waited until a bit more blood left the wound so it got a bit cleaned, before she fed the small unconscious being the stasis potion and used an improved Diptam draught to clean out the wound. It didn't help much not that she expected anything different it didn't even stop the blood loss. Due to the curse it couldn't be healed and Frodo was still ice cold but the bite was gone and she had prevented the shard from reaching his heart, for whatever reason the curse tried that.

Merry smiled after he saw how the blood slowed and that the wound looked cleaner. For the first time since they left Bree he felt a sense of relief.

I hope you liked the first chapter and check out the other ones...

please be so kind and drop a short feedback on the review page. Just let me know what you liked and what not... ok then bye and have fun.

I would also like your input on one story part... I'm unsure about Lyra being able to pull the shard out. On the one hand I don't want her to hang around and do nothing... she is a witch and she should use her magic to help the plot but on the other hand I don't really know... If you have complains about her pulling the shard out I could alter it to her trying to pull it out but only being able to move it a bit further away from the heart, making it easier for Elrond to find it and pull it out...

so what do you think?