AUTHORS NOTE: This was a result of me drooling over Thranduil (Well hello, Lee Pace) in The Hobbit and Calas Galadhon in LOTR. It hasn't been beta'd so excuse the mistakes and the confusing POVs. Kudos if you can spot the Sindarin I used (not everywhere, thinking of pretty sounding Elven names is hard I tell you, even more so in accurate Sindarin.) I don't own HP/LOTR. One chapter every week is my goal! Please review!
ActionsChapter 1:
A wood elf of small stature made his way through the small stone paths that snaked between the large network of roots that belonged to the massive umber trees. Leaves of varying hues of brown and cedar rustled from their places with his movement. There was great urgency in his footsteps. In each of his hands, he carried a small wicker basket, dark green cloth carefully guarding its contents. His steps were quick and nimble, producing only the smallest degree of sound.
The Tirwaen paused and raised his head, still as a deer before the chase. Bright green eyes took in his surroundings before he shut them. The muted cacophony of a river filled his ears.
Harry.
He took a few steps in its direction curiously, before slowly turning and speeding the other way, disappearing into the dense mud colored forest, his feet stuck firmly to the stone path.
Harry sighed as he made his way back to the elven city, the sight of it oddly comforting. The city of the Wood Elves was located in the center of the forest, inside a valley. It was where all the Tirwaen dwelled. It was a massive system built by the wood elves themselves in the canopy of the forest. Canas Iarwain was home to looming trees in various dusky brown shades. Elegant spiraling stairways of stone led all the way to the canopy of each tree and branched out into various halls and rooms. Floating spheres and fixed lanterns sent golden light dancing across the foliage.
Beyond the canopy, the emergents branched out, their wide leaves splintering the sunlight as it shone through, leaving the forest ethereal, bathed in sunbeams. The entire forest was a palette of ochre, yellow, gold, and umber, bringing meaning to the name Glawar Eryn, the Forest of Sunlight.
Harry let his hand drag on the bark of the tree as he climbed the stairs, praying silently for the health of the forest of the Tirwaen. The pathway climbed higher into the canopy and he could see the doors to his work place in sight.
Harry entered the storage rooms and placed the baskets on the table. He flung the coat gently onto the chair before he plopped down onto it, going through the details of the trip in his head.
The food he'd managed to scavenge was little and not what the Wood Elves needed. Regular fruit and mushrooms were not what would replenish them. They had to make do with this however, seeing as that they didn't have much in their storage these days. There weren't any ripe sacred trees left to provide them with the sacred fruit and the stock they had of it wouldn't provide for everyone.
He rose and made his way to the storage rooms. It had been this way for too long, he surmised, as he stored the berries and herbs in their respective containers. The Wood Elves were a dying race, cut off from their brethren in the half-destroyed forest on this side of the river. The war hadn't been kind to the forest, killing its very essence as it progressed. The Great First War had taken its toll on his people, and their land. If only he could cross the river, Harry wondered.
"Harry, mate, you're back real early!" came a gruff voice from the door.
Harry turned around in surprise.
"Ron? Aren't you supposed to be with the rest of the guard?" he asked.
The ginger-haired elf shrugged sheepishly and plopped down on a chair in the room. "Neville's got it covered, I don't really think there's anything for the Alcari to do anyways, there's not really a high chance someone's going to come in from the East."
Harry sighed and put away the now empty baskets.
"Ron, you can't take off like this. You know how paranoid Moody gets," he scolded Ron, who only scowled and reached over to pluck an apple from a nearby barrel.
"Ron!"
"Alright, alright," the young Alcari grimaced, placing the fruit carefully back inside.
Harry sat down beside him, placing a small berries for Ron to consume.
"Here, I can spare these."
Ron ate and Harry watched. It was slightly amusing to see Ron stuff his face, he wondered what the guard did that taxed his friend so much. Not that he himself wasn't affected by the exhaustion of his new work. It was only when Ron coughed that Harry realized that Ron was waiting for him to speak. Harry grimaced, he must have let his worry show on his face.
Ron leaned over, concerned, "You okay, mate?"
Harry frowned. "I'm just tired, Ron."
"There's something else too," Ron questioned, knowing his friend was hiding something.
Harry knew better than to lie to Ron, and sighed resignedly. He mulled over his worries for a while before speaking, not wanting to cause any alarm. The fact that he couldn't lie to Ron did not help.
"We're not collecting enough."
Ron seemed slightly puzzled, so Harry pulled out his logbook. He flipped to his last entry, dated a few days prior, and set it in front of Ron.
"Look, Ron, we aren't collecting enough." Harry explained. "We have almost two barrels less than last month. If it goes on like this, we need to ration everything."
The Alcari frowned, reading the entries of the prior month.
"Ration?" he asked, looking up.
The Wood Elves had never faced such a situation. Glawar Eryn had been a land of refuge, a land that gave, protected, and nurtured. She had never failed her children. Even during the war, the sacred trees had provided enough and more of their fruit. Harry wished his predecessor were here to help him. This was no small spot of trouble.
Rationing food would raise panic and bring about fear. They were forest creatures, and food that did not come from the Elven lands was not enough to replenish their strength. Every one of them knew that the war had affected Glawar Eryn, they just had not expected it to be this severe. During the Great First War, the fight had taken place in the south end of their woods, and it had left its mark. A dark, contagious force slowly spread throughout the battlefield, killing the spirit of the land. Now it was making its way to the rest of the forest, infecting Glawar Eryn herself.
Some of the elves themselves had also begun to feel its ill-natured effects. They needed a solution, and fast.
If only they could cross the river.
Ron continued to study the entries diligently, taking in Harry's scribbles. He seemed to have developed an understanding of the situation when he closed the log and pushed it back towards Harry. Harry waited for his verdict.
"I'll talk to Mum; she might be able to help you out with this. The Order won't be pleased with this I tell you. But Harry," he paused and looked the younger elf in the eye. "Don't mention this to anyone just yet alright?"
Harry nodded, collecting the minute logbook and storing it within the folds of his tunic.
Ron sighed, "Look Harry, don't worry about this too much. It's going to be tough on you to maintain this balance as it is. Just keep doing what you're doing, alright? Mum and the others will sort this out."
"Ron I'm not-"
"Don't you try lying to me," Ron reprimanded softly, rising from the chair. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do Harry."
Harry bit his lip, knowing Ron could see the worry clearly etched on his face. He had never been able to hide his emotions well. He knew he wouldn't be able to sit silently if the situation continued to escalate, but they had to maintain calm in the city. For now, Harry decided, he would remain silent.
Harry nodded.
Ron grinned, sensing truth in Harry's gesture, "Meet us all in the Hall for dinner?"
A small shy smile lit up Harry's face as he accepted.
"Alright."
Ron was wrong however. Two months later and they hadn't been able to find a solution to the problem of the deteriorating food supply. The scavengers found themselves coming back with less and less. The Order, a collection of elves who fought in the First Great War, was now speaking with Man for food from their city. Harry noted the change in his logbook dutifully and pored over it whenever he had the time. The decline frightened him.
If only they could cross the river.
Harry made his way to the wooden barrels. They kept their fruit here, covered in layers of enchantments so that they would last for years on end. The barrels filled rooms upon rooms, but it wasn't enough. It wouldn't last through winter, the way they were consuming them now.
The herbs were in a much poorer condition. They hadn't been able to collect all of them, the darkness having spread all across the southern end of the forest. The scavenging teams worked longer to find them, and it still wasn't enough.
He made sure each barrel was sealed with the right spells before he shut the room, sealing it as well. Harry stood in corridor, staring at the room at the far end.
The room with the delicate cedar door stored their potions. Long ago, they had potions of every kind, ready for dispatch. Seeing as how their potions master was no longer with them since the War, it was a deteriorating supply. Harry had unwillingly taken his place, but he knew not of the more complex ones that the potions master would make. Some had been the potions master's own creations. Only a precious few of those remained. They wouldn't last either. And neither would, it seemed, the Wood Elves.
"Harry?" A familiar voice called.
Quickly, he made his way out of the corridor and up the stairs. Reaching the next level, he nearly collided with a bushy haired elf.
"Harry!" the elf chastised.
"Sorry Hermione," Harry mumbled, correcting his footing. "Didn't see you there."
The female elf let out a sigh of frustration.
"Harry, it's just not possible to be this absentminded," she informed him as if it were a fact.
"Oh?" he just raised his eyebrows at her and she looked at him exasperatedly.
"Come on, Harry, I need you to look at the reports okay?" Hermione demanded as she dragged him by the arm to the main room. Harry could sense her unease, so he followed her without protest.
The main room, located on one of the large branches had a large desk attached to the opposite wall. Scattered on the desk were Harry's reports and findings. The walls adjacent to the door were shelves, housing tomes and records. The room remained illuminated by a carefully arranged array of glowing golden spheres floating in the air. The wall behind the desk was a notice board of sorts, various parchments, and specimens of flora stuck to it.
Hermione pulled Harry to the table, pushing away the crowd of papers and laying down some of her own. She frowned as she worked, opening the books and papers, and arranging them. Harry admired her as she did so. He didn't understand why she worked so hard. It was all fruitless anyway, unless by some miracle they had another food source.
The other side of the river.
"Look over this." she said at last, and handed him a pamphlet, "It's the detailing for the ration program we've developed. With this, will what we have last us the winter?"
Harry broke free from his train of though and looked over the paper. A carefully laid out ration system lay in print before him. Meticulously planned and everybody received the same portions. With this, their food would last most of winter. With this, they could perhaps, see the new year. With this, however, no one was getting nearly enough.
"Hermione," Harry began slowly. "It would work, but you don't think that we all can survive on the same amount, do you?"
Hermione stilled in her writings, and seemed to be thinking of a way to put across her thoughts. Harry already knew her answer even before she spoke.
"It's all we can afford to give them Harry." Hermione returned to her writing. "We don't have enough, and we haven't been able to collect much food these past weeks."
Harry pondered this.
"That is true, but do you think they can manage with only this much?" He asked her softly.
She didn't pause this time as she spoke, "We don't have a choice Harry."
You do.
It went on for a while. Hermione passed him the records, and he approved of them. It seemed like the Order had taken in consideration his report while constructing the ration plans. It showed a judicial usage of whatever they had in storage, with a substantial amount set aside for emergencies. All the numbers had been worked out, and that was what worried Harry. This careful distribution left no room for error. They would have to monitor the stocks closely. This meant much more work for him in the coming months.
His thoughts began to wander as he waited for the rest of the parchments.
Harry thought of a time when the food had been plenty and the forest had been lush. He had been quite young then, when the forest had been a myriad of golden brown and ochre hues. He and the others would run to stand under the falling leaves caused by the birds as they moved in flocks through the forest. Their sweet trills had filled the canopy and more than once Harry had seen an elder pause to appreciate their song.
The sacred trees had littered the land with fruit for all. Their massive leaves hid the ripening fruit, protecting it as it slowly grew to the size of an apple. The elves were signaled of its ripening when their sweet aroma filled the air of the emergent layer of the forest and the leaves slowly began to spread out once more. The streams that ran into their city from the river had been sweet with the taste of the ancient eastern lands it had flowed from. The animals that drank from it had been friendly to the Wood Elves and played with the children. It had been a time of peace, elation, and contentment.
It had all changed too quickly.
He had still been young when he had witnessed his parents die brutally for the war in front of his eyes. The southern lands grew black with pull of war. Glawar Eryn grew sick as her trees lost their leaves and the streams no longer ran to the south. He had only been a little older when the land had succumbed to the sickness. He had watched as the colors disappeared from the trees and as the animals disappeared. He had buried many of the small creatures much as he had seen the elders bury his parents. There were no flowers placed on their graves, only the occasional pitying glance the elders sent his way. Then the sacred trees too had lost the battle against the darkness, and most of their food supply was lost. None of the sacred trees were healthy enough to bear fruit.
On this side of the river at least.
"Harry!"
He started and took a deep breath to calm his thoughts.
"Sorry Hermione," he said sheepishly, taking the parchments she was offering.
Hermione eyed him worriedly, "You do it more now."
Harry avoided her piercing eyes. "Ron says it's alright, since I'm working more."
She snorted lightly. "Not when you're doing it all the time Harry, and really, advice from Ron?"
Hermione paused and wrinkled her brows, trying to hide a small smile.
"But he takes good care of his friends I suppose," she mumbled.
Harry watched his friend work with a new cheer and felt his own spirits lift, even if it was just a little bit.
Hermione was wrong too. The ration system was perfect, but it didn't allow much room for adjustments, just as Harry had predicted. Sometimes the children needed more. Sometimes, situations called for more nutrients. Sometimes, the exceptions made much bigger dents on the supply.
Harry grew worried as he saw the barrels slowly empty. Storage Room after storage room in the canopy cleared. Harry ate less and less, storing whatever he could. The rest of the Tirwaen were tensed, the lack of food affecting their social mood. The Order remained in the emergent layer, in their council room. Harry paid no attention to Hermione's constant updates. Instead, his scavenging trips took him farther and farther away from his city. He spent more time outside Canas Iarwain. Harry spent long hours searching, until the sun had set on Glawar Eryn, and there was only the light of his magic to guide him home. Yet every single time, he came back home with the same amount.
Perhaps, he should not have gone this far, Harry thought, as he made his way through unfamiliar roots. There was no pathway here, no way for him to navigate. He had not ever been this far from the city. He did not know how he had reached here. Harry frowned, it was becoming a bad habit, and one day he would find himself lost.
The trees still throbbed with life here, but bore no fruit. He ambled through, not knowing which direction he had come from. Sighing, he stilled, as he usually did, when he lost his way and concentrated.
Slowly, the sounds of the woods filled his ears.
First came the soft rustling of the drying leaves, then of the wind, gently brushing past him, leaving a chill in its wake.
Then the sound of running water.
Harry froze.
It was the river.
It was the river and it was far too close, maybe a couple of yards away.
Against his will, his feet began to move in its direction. Sooner than he wanted, he stood at the bank of the waterway.
The light colored sand stuck to his brown boots as he made his way to the edge of the river. The air was cleaner, fresher. He knelt and dipped his hand inside the cool water, playing gently, and in awe of the feeling of it passing around his fingers. It brought comfort from the mild heat of the day.
Slowly, he raised his head to the opposite bank. His heart thudded in his chest as he took in the scenery. The forest was so different on the other side. The trees were similar to Glawar Eryn. Tall and majestic. On the other side, they were white and grey and regal. The leaves were brilliant shades of green, catching and filtering light, in a way; glowing. The ground looked rather moist and Harry felt a rush of envy. There was a sudden heat in his chest, and it pained him.
Harry held in his desires to cross the river. Beyond the water was a land that Wood Elves could not enter, Aelorn, the woods of the High Elves. The High Elves were purebloods; they were one of the first creations. The Wood Elves were a smaller group of elves, with less power and rooted to land, and they had come much later. The woods of the High Elves were not home for lower elves, and this law had been and was still strictly reinforced, according to the elders. Harry had learned this from birth. It was forbidden to cross the river, to even set foot on the banks of their forest.
He scanned the expanse of sacred trees, laden with fresh, glistening fruit and felt his frustrations rise to the surface. There were so many unpicked and the ground was littered in many more. Before, he would not have been tempted to cross the water.
If only they had food.
With one last look at the Eden before him, he turned away to find his way back to the city.
"You can't!" Ron snapped at him.
Harry cringed.
"I know the rules Ron," Harry retorted, running his hands through his hair. "I wouldn't cross it and you know it."
He turned and faced his friend with a solemn expression. He knew Ron worried about him, more than he did for anyone else. He did so even more now, since Harry had begun to bear the burden of the potions master as well as the scavenging sector. Harry had, in turn developed a habit of reassuring his condition to the Aicari every now and then. It didn't look to be enough now. Ron looked torn, regarding Harry with doubt in his eyes.
"Harry," he began, but seemed to think better of it.
Harry remained silent. He didn't question Ron's reluctance to trust him with this; it would come out eventually.
"I'm not going to Ron." He tried again.
His words didn't seem to affect Ron at all, seeing as Ron's face still betrayed worry and doubt. Harry decided to try again, and put on a steady front. He placed his hand on Ron's forearm and gave a gentle squeeze, looking him straight in the eye.
"It's not worth it," Harry whispered, hiding his turmoil away in order to reassure his friend.
This seemed to work for Ron. He placed his other hand on Harry's and let out a breath he had been holding. He smiled hesitantly.
"Thanks, mate, don't want you to get into any trouble, y'know?" Ron mumbled.
Harry smiled, pushing his inner uproar deeper inside and squeezed Ron's arm again, "I won't."
You will.
Harry never imagined that he himself would be wrong as he stared at the green forest for the second time. He carried only a small basket with him. The only thing that lay between him and the woods was the river, Menilion. Harry calmed his mind and took in the sounds that surrounded him. He had never thought he would do such a thing, but recent circumstances had left him with no choice.
It hit him again, how different the other side seemed. Here, near Aelorn, he could hear the bird. He could hear the roar of the water as it sped over the rocks and he could hear the faint noises of the animals in the lush forest. It brought back the only good memories he had of his childhood, and he grit his teeth. This needed to be fast, nothing could distract lest he was caught.
With one last breath, he entered the river. Wading across it was no problem, not for a scavenging elf like him. Slowly, as to not cut himself on any rocks, he made his way to the other side, the water rising slowly up to his chest. Big breaths, he reminded himself, his limbs trembling with exertion. As he rose out of the water, he began to shiver, but disregarded the feeling and focused on the fruit that lay before him.
He knew that the fruit on the trees would be a much better source of nutrition and were in much better condition. However, seeing as he was trespassing, he set out to collect only the acceptable ones on the ground. It just didn't sit right with him, and he couldn't help glance up at the trees with guilt for a second.
Slowly, he filled the basket he had brought with him.
He made his way down the bank, collecting just enough to store in the small basket. He inspected each fruit, making sure it was a viable one before placing it inside. It was a grueling task. He shivered as he did so, the cold of the river seeping into his body.
As he tied the cloth around the fruit basket, something sharp whizzed past him, nicking his cheek. Harry let out a small cry of pain and turned toward the woods. An overwhelming sense of terror rose in him and he knew it was best he not run.
From the darkness of the woods, he could make out a tall figure approaching. As the darkness gave way to sunlight, Harry could see the archer clearly. It could not be, Harry thought, it was just his luck. He gently lowered the fruit basket to the ground and bowed his head, as he waited for the other to speak.
Sensing this and seeing Harry's posture, the other elf spoke, "Why are you stealing our fruit? More importantly, how dare you even cross the stream?"
The elf's voice was sharp and refined and Harry knew to whom he was speaking to. Harry's cheek stung painfully but he ignored it, showing only respect to the elf in front of him. A Lindaen. A High Elf.
"I'm sorry that I've intruded on your lands," he spoke softly, to avoid offending the elf before him. "But we do not have any sacred fruit."
"Whose fault is that? You lot are useless, really." the elf sneered. "You think you can simply take ours?"
"I t-took only the fallen ones," Harry shivered violently, and he could feel a sneeze coming on. He could think of nothing that might excuse his behavior.
Maybe he would be granted a swift death if he showed respect and returned the fruit, Harry thought.
There was silence for a while.
"You came all the way and took the rotten fruit?" the other elf seemed curious in tone but Harry dared not take a chance.
Harry nodded, and the silence continued. Then he heard the soft sound of steps on the sand. He did not dare look up. So when the basket in front of him was picked up and handed to him, he was startled. His head rose of its own accord and he came face to face with the High Elf.
The first thing he saw was the grey eyes. Stormy grey eyes which contrasted with the pale skin, and blonde hair. Long blonde hair that the gentle breeze around them carried lightly. The Lindaen wore a tunic of the softest, darkest grey over his shirt, britches in a shade of ash, and black dragon hide boots. Harry's eyes darted back to the pale pink lips. Whether they were pursed in exasperation or irritation, Harry could not tell. He was going to be killed now for sure.
Therefore, he was rightly surprised when he felt the basket being placed into his hands and he glanced down at it.
"My Lord," Harry began tentatively, he didn't even know how to address a Lindaen.
The elf before him laughed, a rich, cheerful sound that filled Harry's ear.
"Good god, I'm not one," he chuckled, "Or, at least not yet."
Harry stood frozen stiff. The elf seemed to notice this and smirked.
"I'm Draco Malfoy, Young Lord, and Heir to the House of Malfoy. And you are?"
Harry's eyes widened before he turned them away and lowered his head in respect. A respectable lineage probably, considering the Lindaen's attitude.
"I'm Harry, a scavenging elf, My Lord," he murmured, avoiding the words Wood Elf or Tirwaen.
The High Elf seemed amused.
"I told -"
Just at the moment, Harry sneezed. And continued to do so again three times. When his fit was over, he was mortified and had nearly dropped the basket from his hands. His infamous luck was choosing to act up now?
"Hey," the young lord seemed concerned. Harry on the other hand, not thinking straight, imagined he heard anger and irritation in Lord Malfoy's tone.
"You shouldn't have crossed the river without any warming spells," he chastised Harry, and then he paused. "I'll take care of that cut too."
Lord Malfoy came ever so close, leaning far too much into Harry's personal space. Harry drew in his breath as the lord cupped his face gently and generated heat through his palms. A soft touch to the cut on his cheek led to a burst of cool healing magic on his skin. He had never felt such magic before, he hadn't been around the Alcari to see any magic. After all, he was a recluse, and this new feeling was wonderful. It spread throughout his body and Harry felt himself relax and lean into the lord's hands. The warmth was much more pleasant than he'd expected and it fought away the chill from the river and dried his clothes. The lord chuckled and withdrew his hands.
"You shouldn't relax too much around me," he teased and Harry tensed up again, fingers clutching the handle of the basket in panic.
"Hey, hey," the lord looked worried, sensing Harry's sudden change in demeanor. "I'm not going to harm you alright?"
Harry nodded, still terrified; he didn't understand why the High Elf was even talking to him. He had heard stories of the disdain they had for his kind, killing them mercilessly during the war. Perhaps the Lord was toying with him, akin to animals before a fatal chase. Harry's mind supplied with him useless gruesome images.
"I'm sorry," he said it again, hoping the lord would let him leave. He swallowed and extended the basket, he didn't want to die over a few fallen fruit. "If I return this, may I leave?"
The lord before him seemed baffled, glancing towards the basket.
"What?"
Harry did not want to be here a moment longer.
He took his chance and thrust the basket at the lord. Harry plunged into the river, ignoring the calls behind him as he frantically swam for other shore. Upon reaching it, he did not wait for the sound of the lord calling his name to reach his ear again, but ran as fast as his feet could carry him to the city, his heart beating wildly in his chest.
Harry Potter, why do you run?
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