Gandalf and Frodo rode the same Pegasus, while Boromir shared another with Merry and Pippin.
The Pegasus was large enough to comfortably carry two or even three adults, so despite Boromir riding with two hobbits, it did not feel cramped at all.
Amid the cheers of the people of Rivendell, the five took flight. Aside from a select few, Elrond, Sylas, and Glorfindel, no one knew the truth. To everyone else, the "Frodo" leaving the valley truly carried the One Ring, bound westward for the Grey Havens.
As the Pegasi carried them out of the valley and into the open sky, a red-eyed raven perched beyond the borders of Rivendell suddenly stirred. It let out a harsh caw, then spread its wings and flew toward the Misty Mountains.
None of the riders noticed.
Merry and Pippin leaned forward on their Pegasus, staring at the land below and shouting with excitement.
Even Boromir, normally calm and restrained, felt his heart racing.
Though he had studied at Hogwarts and traveled there each year in winged carriages, those journeys were always made close to the ground. Aside from broomsticks, he had never experienced true aerial flight on a living mount.
Caught up in the hobbits' enthusiasm, Boromir couldn't help but laugh and shout along with them.
He knew well that their task, to draw the enemy's attention, was no less dangerous than the true mission. In fact, it might be even more perilous.
But Boromir felt no fear.
As the heir to the Steward of Gondor, he longed to see Sauron destroyed, to end Mordor's threat and spare Gondor from inevitable decline. That was why he had volunteered for the visible Fellowship, so that others might walk the darker road with less pressure upon them.
The Pegasi soared through the clouds, sunlight breaking across endless stretches of land below.
Then Gandalf's expression abruptly changed.
He twisted in the saddle and stared toward the horizon.
"Be on guard!" he shouted.
Boromir and the two hobbits turned at once, and gasped.
A dark mass was approaching from the distance. As it drew closer, its true form became clear: tens of thousands of bloodthirsty bats, filling the sky like a living storm.
"We have no advantage in the air!" Gandalf shouted. "Get down, now!"
He wrenched his Pegasus downward, plunging toward the earth.
Boromir reacted instantly, yelling for Merry and Pippin to hold tight as he sent his own mount into a near-vertical dive.
The bats were faster.
They swarmed from all directions, claws and wings tearing through the air. In moments, Boromir, Merry, and Pippin were covered in cuts, their faces and arms scraped by razor-sharp talons.
Boromir tried to fight back, but their Pegasus had already been wounded. Panicked and shrieking, it bucked wildly, struggling to escape the relentless assault.
The violent motion forced all three riders to cling desperately to the saddle. A single slip would mean a fall from thousands of feet, certain death.
Gandalf was under attack as well, thousands of bats converging on him at once. He raised his staff without hesitation, releasing a barrier of radiant holy light that repelled the swarm.
Seeing Boromir's peril, Gandalf poured more power into the spell. Waves of light burst outward, blasting the bats away and tearing open a momentary path.
"Now! Get down to the ground!"
Boromir seized the chance. Forcing control back over the terrified Pegasus, he drove it downward.
They hit the ground hard but alive, landing just before the bats could regroup and descend again.
Boromir dismounted at once, pulling Merry and Pippin behind him. With practiced speed, he drew his longsword in one hand, and his wand in the other.
Having studied magic at Hogwarts for seven years, Boromir's talent was not exceptional, but he was well-versed in common spells.
He raised his wand and cast a Protective Charm around himself, then drew his longsword and hacked down the vampire bats that closed in.
Merry and Pippin were visibly tense. Though the Protective Charm shielded them from immediate harm, they still drew the daggers Sylas had given them, nervously scanning the darkness around them.
Gandalf abandoned spellcasting with his staff altogether. He pulled Bilbo behind him and drew his sword, weaving it into a flawless arc that formed an impenetrable net of steel.
Every bat that came near was shredded into dust.
Foul-smelling blood splattered across Gandalf's grey robes, but he paid it no mind.
He fought while shielding Bilbo, then moved back to Boromir's side.
In moments, the ground was carpeted with bat corpses, their stench filling the air.
Yet the remaining bats did not retreat.
Instead, the carnage only drove them into a frenzy.
There were simply too many, tens of thousands. After half a day of brutal fighting, only a fraction had been slain.
Then, suddenly, the bats stopped attacking.
They drew back and formed a dense, perfectly sealed ring in the air.
At once, they released silent sonic waves.
A single bat's sound was imperceptible, but tens of thousands together made even Gandalf's expression change.
Boromir and the three hobbits couldn't hear anything at all.
But their chests tightened. Their breathing became labored. A searing pain exploded in their heads, growing worse by the second, as though their brains and internal organs were about to rupture.
Boromir dropped to one knee, gripping the hilt of his sword. His face twisted in agony as his magic completely collapsed and dispersed.
Bilbo, Merry, and Pippin clutched their heads, groaning in pain.
Gandalf's face flushed crimson. He slammed his staff into the ground with both hands and roared like thunder:
"Evil, begone!"
The shout shattered part of the sonic assault. Holy light erupted outward in rippling waves, blasting the bats away.
"Go! We can't stay here!" Gandalf shouted.
He seized Bilbo and lifted him onto the Pegasus, then vaulted onto his own mount and urged it westward.
Boromir acted instantly, helping Merry and Pippin onto his Pegasus before mounting himself and charging after Gandalf.
Both Pegasi were bleeding heavily, their wings torn and soaked in blood. Flight was no longer possible.
But as descendants of giant eagles and divine steeds, their speed on the ground was still terrifying.
The two Pegasi thundered westward like lightning, kicking up vast clouds of dust as they fled.
Though Gandalf had forced them back, the bats regrouped quickly and pursued without relent, intent on draining every drop of blood.
After several hours of this merciless chase, the group was utterly exhausted.
Just as the swarm of vampire bats was about to close in again, Gandalf suddenly seemed to notice something ahead. His expression brightened, and he shouted with renewed strength:
"Faster! We're almost across the Last Bridge! That's Hogwarts territory, we'll be safe there!"
The group, exhausted and barely holding on, felt their spirits surge.
Looking ahead, they saw it, an ancient stone bridge standing in the distance, the Last Bridge west of the Troll Forest.
Hope flared in their chests.
Even the winged horses seemed to sense it, pushing themselves harder and accelerating toward the bridge.
With a final burst of speed, they crossed the Last Bridge just before the vampire bats could reach them.
The Pegasi didn't slow, continuing westward along the great east–west road.
But before anyone could relax, just as the bats regrouped and surged forward once more;
Soft cracking sounds echoed through the air.
Figures appeared across the wasteland.
One by one, wizards in Auror uniforms materialized, forming a disciplined semicircle in front of the fleeing group.
They raised their wands in unison, aiming directly at the oncoming swarm of vampire bats, shielding the group behind them.
...
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