Not yet titled (Doctor Who/ Harry Potter/ Lord of the Rings crossover)

CHAPTER 2- UPDATED 4/10/16

"What are they saying?" Fred whispered to his twin brother.

"I dunno," George replied, "somebody lost their rattle..."

"Oh, honestly, he said battle." Hermione snapped. Just as she said it, the young king marched over to the man in black and spoke very sternly in a low voice. The man, not attempting to be quiet at all, replied fervently, "Send out riders my lord! You must call for aide!"

The King looked furious. Just as he opened his mouth to argue, he was interrupted by another voice. The Doctor's voice.

"Hello!" The Doctor adjusted his tie as he strode forward, "This is aide speaking, did somebody call?" The King and the man in black stood motionless, blinking their eyes in a similar mask of confusion.

"Right." The Doctor clapped his hands together, "Well, I'm the Doctor, and these are my friends, Harry, Ron, Hermione, eh, Similar-looking-gingers, smaller ginger, Luna, and, eh, the other one that nobody seems to like." The Doctor rushed on before Lavender could wail in protest at this introduction, "We have travelled a very long way... from the land... of... Galle-er-Earth, you see, and we offer you our services, if they could be of any help in your time of need."

His words were met with silence, but the Doctor did not seem at all discouraged, and continued to smile broadly. Off to the side of the room, a short, bearded man covered in armor mouthed "Galle-er-earth?" to the tall blonde man at his side, who shrugged hopelessly. Finally, the King stepped forward. "I am Theoden, King of Rohan. This is Aragorn, son of Arathorn," he gestured to the man in black, "Gimli, son of Gloin," the short man grunted, "and Legolas of the woodland realm," the tall blonde one gave a slight bow. "I appreciate you're long journey to this land to offer your assistance, and Rohan will happily accommodate you, but we need no help from foreigners. This country is well equipped with defenses, such defenses that have never before been and never shall be overtaken. Rohan does not require your services."

"Ah," sighed the Doctor. "I see. You are strong nation, yes? Independent? You don't need any help? Would you venture so far as to call yourselves a proud nation?"

"Indeed," replied Theoden, "We have many reasons to take pride in ourselves. We are Rohan!"

"Weeelll," the Doctor said slowly, "I'm glad you have such confidence. Really, it is truly inspiring. You'd be surprised how many nations I come across that don't believe in themselves. But, in 900 years of time and space, if there's one thing I've learned, it's that pride leads to man's downfall. So unless you'd care to join the ranks of Dorian Gray and Raskolnikov, I suggest that you reconsider my offer for assistance." He smiled smugly.

Theoden returned the Doctor's gaze, and after a long pause, finally said, "well, you seem very proud yourself, Doctor."

"Ah, well, on a technicality, I am not a man. Therefore, the phrase "pride leads to man's downfall" does not really apply to me. I am a Time Lord, I'm 903 years old, from the planet Gallifrey. I can tell from your face, and the faces of all the people in this palace, that Rohan is not as confident as it would like to seem. In fact, I'd venture so far as to say you're in trouble. Big trouble. And that's where I can help. I deal with trouble all the time! Whatever your problem is, Daleks, Cybermen, globs of fat that turn into tiny people, I can stop it. So trust me."

"And why should we trust you, a strange man, who, if my nephew's words are true, tried to invade Rohan with a blue box?" replied Theoden.

"Because I'm the Doctor," said the Doctor, "Trust me, I'm the Doctor! Aha! It has a ring to it! It shall be my new catchphrase! And anyways, like I said, the box is not a weapon, it's my spaceship. It's like, a very advanced, wibbly wobbly timey wimey horse."