A/N: I just had someone's hand in my mouth for twenty-minutes, and I am now in so much pain. (Three guess as to why that is, and the first three don't count)
The painkillers are also doing nothing, I have a lisp and basically life just sucks, so if I missed any significant errors, let me know and I'll go back and fix it when I'm in less pain.

Thanks to all of my reviewers. I really appreciate you taking the time to read this strange bundle of words masquerading as a proper fic. You guys are the sweetest!

Disclaimer: I own my nothing but a load of clean laundry.

Chapter 4

They rode on. It was about midday by then, from what he could tell, and the sun was shinning obnoxiously bright in the sky. This did nothing to help Harry's general discomfort.

Harry frowned when his stomach gave an angry gurgle. Yes, he really was quite starving. The water had helped for a while, but it was getting to the point where he could no longer ignore the hunger pains. Well-accustomed to not getting enough to eat, Harry could go a long time without; perhaps because of this very fact, Harry did his utmost to eat as much as he could, whenever he could.

Thus, despite being the unfortunate victim of a kidnapping, Harry saw no issue with demanding food of his captors.

After all, they wanted to keep him alive, didn't they?

Harry turned his head to look up at the dark-haired elf behind him and demanded: "Feed me!"

It came out a bit squeaky, but Harry was getting used to his new - or old, really - voice, so he ignored it.

Dan looked down at him, amused. "Art thou a horse, little Istari? Should that not be the case, I do believe there are much better ways to request sustenance."

Harry rolled his eyes and intoned sarcastically: "I beg of your heartfelt nature, that you might provide me with the means to continue on living."

"Yes, that is much better," Dan said with exaggerated solemnity. He dug in his saddle bag with one hand, and soon produced a flat, plain looking bread, of sorts.

He handed it to Harry, who gave it a skeptical look, but was too hungry to care for long. It turned out to be delicious: light, fluffy and mildly sweet. It was very refreshing, and he ate it with relish. He was surprised to find himself full upon finishing, though the portion had been small.

"What's this stuff, then?" he asked the elf.

"It is called Lembas. It is a type of wafer made for the purpose of traveling. A small portion provides the same nutrients as a well-balanced meal. It is also light, and stays fresh for long periods of time."

"Hmmmm." Very nice. Harry would have killed to have this stuff at a lot of different periods in his life.

Hunger sated, he leaned back contentedly and took a moment to consider his situation.

So far, the elves hadn't hurt him (other than that little moment of sexual harassment, which Harry wasn't gonna think about); they'd provided him with food and water, and even showed concern for his well-being. Harry was embarrassed to realize that his kidnappers had in fact shown him more consideration than a majority of the people in his life who called themselves his guardians and teachers.

They were also kind of nice, in general; they were sort of growing on him, like a peculiarly attractive fungus.

So. Options.

Harry sighed, and carefully avoided looking at the ground. This horse was very tall, and the less he thought about being on it, the better.

Option one: he could try a little more seriously to escape.

If he tried to summon his wand now, he knew he would succeed; due to his strong connection with the wand, he could get a general feel of its location, and right now it pointed to somewhere in the vicinity of Roh's saddle bags.

Once he had his wand, it would be simple work disarming and stunning both elves, and then he would be on his way.

But then what? Harry thought, his stomach lurching uncomfortably as the horse made its way around a shallow dip in the road.

'Then what' indeed.

Short of killing the elves, there was no way to stop them permanently; once the spell wore off, they would come chasing after him on their very fast horses (as there was no way in hell Harry was going to steal one of those awful beasts). Harry also knew nothing about elves; for all he knew, they might have some sort of power to track his life force, or follow his scent, or any other method of tracking down one lonely little kid in this tree-ridden wilderness.

Even if he did escape, really escape, what then? Would he wander about, tired and alone, in the hopes that he would run into someone else, someone hopefully just as friendly but less likely to kidnap him?

What fun, Harry thought sourly. So that option's out.

Option two: Harry stuck with these two, and let what would happen, happen.

Harry sighed, more loudly this time, and was startled to feel a hand rest on his head. Before he could ask why, he heard Dan say: "What a sorrowful sound, little one. Is it such a terrible thing, being captured by such awful, evil elves?"

Harry automatically answered yes, but he knew Dan could hear the lie in his words. He hadn't been serious, really, not since the start. It was like everything had hit him all at once, but now that he'd gotten a good freak out out of his system, all his worries had taken a backseat.

I should probably be worried about that, too. Why'm I not, again?

"I'm not 'child', by the way," Harry told them later, as they were taking a break to stretch their legs. Harry's legs, in particular, definitely appreciated this.

Dan, who was riffling around in his saddle bag, turned to give him a quizzical look.

"I mean I have a name, and you can use it if you want," he clarified. He'd had time to think this through during the long hours of riding (which were a few terrifying hours of his life he was never getting back; also, after this he was never getting on a horse ever again if he could help it). So far, he'd been lucky; they hadn't asked his name, or shown any sign they recognized him. Without his scar that wasn't too difficult, sure, but the entire Magical Society knew of him by now; he could be in a mountain village in Nepal and they would probably know who he was.

Letting them know his name had its hazards. There were still plenty of dark wizards out there who had it in for him, and even his loyal fans were dangerous in their own right.

But at the moment, Harry had nothing else up his sleeve. They had taken his wand (and he wasn't desperate enough to steal it back), he had no resources, and no means of even determining where he was. He wasn't even sure what an elf was, never mind if all of elves were as friendly-like as these two.

Harry hated the thought of using his fame in any way, but if using his name could get him out of this mess in one piece, he would swallow his pride and use it.

Harry braced himself, and said: "I'm Harry Potter. You can, well, call me Harry if you like." And waited.

"Har...ri?" Roh said after a moment, rolling the name oddly. "An interesting name for an interesting Istari. Well-met, young Wizard Harri! I am Elrohir Elrondian, and this is my twin brother, Elladan; may the starsshine upon our meeting."

Um.

"You... don't recognize me?" Harry asked cautiously, mentally reconfiguring his captors' names in his head. "Why don't you recognize me?"

'Elladan' handed a water skin to his brother ('Elrohir'), and gave Harry a quizzical look. "Should we, little Istari? Have we met at a previous time, then? I do not believe so, for I am certain I would have remembered."

"That's – uh, no, I suppose not," Harry said, stunned. That was... weird. Very weird.

Elrohir passed Harry the water skin when he had had his fill, and Harry accepted it automatically, mind awhirl.

They... didn't know who he was. They didn't know who he was, even though they were elves and apparently knew what magic was.

Harry... was starting to get a very, very bad feeling.

"We must find a decent place to camp before night falls," Elrohir announced, pulling him from his thoughts. His long robes swished as he walked towards the horses. He whispered something to the dark mare, Sulal, that Harry had the misfortune of being well acquainted with by now, and stroked her long mane.

"Let us rest a bit longer, and then be on our way."

"Ai," Elladan agreed. He plopped himself on to his back next to Harry and crossed his legs. He then looked up, and grinned.

"Since we appear to have a bit more time, perhaps you can tell us again about these tree nymphs - these dryads. I would very much like to hear the details, as I do believe I know someone who would be very interested in hearing about them."

Sensing a mischief in the elf that reminded him of two red-haired twins, Harry felt an answering grin stretch across his face. He pushed the 'bad feeling' into the rapidly filler corner in the back of his mind and let himself get pulled into talking.

What would come would come. He'd come this far not really giving a shit; why start now?

It was getting dark by the time they came to another stop.

For the entirety of their journey, the landscape had been a boring repeat of long stretch of road, trees, more trees, and more road. The novelty of so much nature had long since worn off, so Harry had let himself fall into a light doze. He'd just meant to have a light kip to conserve energy, but before he knew it, he was fast asleep.

He woke up when the movement ceased.

"Hurm? Was-was going on?" Harry mumbled sleepily, blinking at the – big surprise – surrounding trees.

"We will be camping for the night, little Istari," Elladan said. Harry felt him move down and off the horse. He only then realized that he must have been using the elf as a cushion the entire ride, and took a moment to consider being embarrassed about it. In the end, he figured that if the elf hadn't said anything, it was probably fine, and shrugged it off.

Yawning, he got off the horse himself (much less gracefully). The ground beneath his feet was a wonderful feeling, and he stretched, reveling in his new freedom. His thighs and other soft bits were killing him; Merlin knew how people could stand riding the damn things.

Harry glared at the horse for good measure. She snorted and snuffled at his pockets in return.

"Oh no you don't, go away!" Harry exclaimed, shooing with his hands. Not to be deterred, the mare shoved her nose around Harry's hands and pockets, whinnying when her search provided nothing.

Harry heard laughter, and turned behind him to see Elrohir watching, a pile of branches in his arms.

"She is searching for treats. Valar knows my brother spoils her over-much."

"I do no such thing!" Elladan declared, even as he abandoned a bundle of bedding to pull a piece of chopped carrot from his pocket.

The horse's ears perked up, and she moved from exploring Harry's person to stretching her nose excitedly in Elladan's direction.

Rolling his eyes, Harry stuck his hands in his pockets and wandered over to where Elrohir was placing rocks in a circle.

He crouched down and watched silently for a moment. When the circle looked to be about complete, Harry scratched at the back of his head and asked awkwardly: "Uh, you need help with anything, mate?"

Elrohir glanced up at him. Harry found it simply marvelous, and equally ridiculous, that both of the elves looked absolutely impeccable. Very aware of his own bird's nest hair and dirty clothes, he really couldn't comprehend how they managed to stay so clean and, well, gorgeous.

Maybe it's an elf thing, he thought, unable to stop a twinge of envy.

"Thank you for offering, little one. On top of the saddle sits my bedroll, which you shall be using tonight. If you would be so kind as to get it for me," Elrohir offered kindly.

Feeling like he was being patronized but with a restless need to use his own two feet as much as possible, Harry scrambled to his feet and went to get the bedroll.

While trying to get the bedroll and avoid the inquisitive eyes of the Elrohir's large beast, Harry took the chance to subtly observe the elves.

From where he stood with a good view of their camp, both elves were practically impossible to tell a part. Much like Fred and George, everything from their clothing down to their (incredibly effeminate) braids were identical. Harry had always privately wondered at that.

While his twins had always gotten a good laugh out of tricking people by changing their names and whatnot, Harry wondered at their lack of desire for individuality. If it were him, he figured, he would be frustrated and hurt that not even his own mother could tell them a part.

Harry observed them some more, and after a moment was able to spot and remember a few marked differences.

He'd already observed Elladan's readiness to smile in contrast to his rather somber brother. He wasn't sure which was the older one, but if he had to guess, he would say Elrohir. There was a carefreeness to Elladan that smacked of the younger sibling.

Elladan also had a habit of rubbing his thumb and forefinger; he'd noticed the tell during the long ride. Harry couldn't tell what it meant just yet, but he was determined to find out.

And their choice of weapons, of course. While they both carried both a light, small-ish sword and bow, Elladan had grabbed his bow while Elrohir had gone for his sword.

It wasn't much, but Harry imagined that most people couldn't tell them apart anyway, and a small advantage was better than none.

"I had thought you wished to help, little one!" one of the elves called out, jolting Harry from his thoughts. He quickly grabbed the bedroll and replied: "Gimme a minute, geez! And it's 'Harry' for crying out loud!l

Both elves eyed him with amusement as he stalked over and dropped the bedroll with huff. Even up this close, it was difficult to pin down which twin was which.

Elrohir - yes, it was Elrohir - put down the flint he'd been using to light the fire, and said, "You do have a very intriguing way of speaking, young Harry. I am curious to know from whence you came that such language is common place. I also would like to know what led you to this place, alone and without companions or belongings of any kind. I do not mean to press you for answers," he hastened to add, at Harry's sudden tension, "Our Father will ask you such questions in due time. I merely ask out of curiosity."

Harry eyed them both carefully. He really, really didn't want to get into the whole mess with Kreacher, never mind that he still hadn't established how they both seemed to recognize magic, but not who he was.

For that matter, there were so many things odd about this whole situation, that he was... That he was...

Yes, all right, he was afraid; he somehow got the feeling that the truth was a terrible, frightening thing, to be avoided at all costs.

After a long moment of consideration (during which the elves waited silently, which he appreciated), Harry decided on a slightly watered-down version of the truth.

"Well I'm English, obviously, and we're all kinda like this, yeah," he said, sweeping a vague hand down to indicate himself, not expecting this part to need further explanation. It was the next part that would be a bit...tricky.

He saw Elrohir open his mouth, but the elf closed it as Harry continued:

"So there I was, just going about my business, when my el – ah, servant comes along and starts reading from this book, right, which was magic I think, and then everything went kind of 'kaboomy' and then I passed out. Then I woke up here."

"...Ah. Is that so."

Harry shrugged sheepishly. So it was a shit explanation; he honestly couldn't do much better than that. Going on about how Kreacher was absolutely batty and a piece of absolute rubbish would mean nothing to them, never mind his unfortunate history with dark wizards, which – would actually explain a lot about how Kreacher managed the difficult feat of transporting him somewhere extremely strange and probably far off with his limited house-elf magic.

Ah. Something to consider.

Harry smiled winsomely at his two otherworldly-companions and concluded: "But I've got friends looking for me, and it's not like I can't take care of myself, so there's really nothing to worry about. Really," he emphasized when his answer garnered two skeptical looks.

Really, everything was fine. He would fumble through this mess somehow, try to enjoy it and make the most of it, then get the fuck out of dodge.

And that creeping feeling of a hand clutching tighter and tighter around his insides? Simply an unfortunate side-effect of drinking too much.

"Well," Elrohir said, after a polite but strongly disbelieving pause. "Well, then. As I said, I asked merely out of curiosity. You will have plenty of time before we reach our destination to think of a more... coherent explanation."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, whatever you say."