Ex Sanguis Version 2.0 chapter changes: grammar, spelling, syntax, descriptive elements, additional scenes (recommend re-reading, due to additional background information)

Chapter 4: Lessons

By the end of the day, Harry was completely fed up with the elvin language, but he had learnt a fair deal. He could now form basic broken sentences with Quenah's help and had a long list of vocabulary he needed to memorise. Of course, none of this negated the fact that no matter how hard Harry tried, he couldn't pronounce some of the words properly. Quenah kept telling him "all in good time" and that it would eventually come to him, but Harry wasn't so sure. After all, hadn't Quenah said that human throats were physically incapable of making some of the elvin sounds?

After the older elf had left, he even went so far as to try and practise on his own, yet no matter how hard he tried he couldn't do it.

It means you're human, Harry, he had to keep reminding himself whenever he got overly frustrated.

Still, he went to bed that night impressed with his progress. He liked to think that Hermione would have been impressed too, and smirked at the thought that he might have done better than her. He could just picture her, eyebrows creased and eyes narrowed in frustration by the sounds of a language that she couldn't pronounce no matter how hard she tried. Laughing slightly, he turned over in his very comfortable bed and tried to sleep.

It took a while, because his mind was so occupied with thoughts of his day, but eventually Harry must have fallen asleep, because he was woken up the next morning by Quenah's droning voice telling him it was time to get up. Harry's eyes snapped open and stared at the elf that was leaning over him. He yelped and jerked back, rolling over and falling off the other side of the bed.

"Oww," were his first words to greet the new day.

"My apologies, Your Highness," said Quenah, "I did not mean to startle you."

Yeah, right, thought Harry, but wisely didn't say anything as he climbed to his feet.

"What are you doing here?" he asked suspiciously.

"Did you forget your lessons were to begin today, Your Highness?" asked Quenah, sounding slightly amused.

"Oh," Harry said, wondering what these supposed lessons were.

"The tailor should have something for you by now as well. Please bathe yourself as I call for her."

"Wait!" Harry called frantically at Quenah's retreating back. "You don't mean she's going to come into the bathroom is she?" Who knew what strange customs these elves had?

"No," Quenah said, looking puzzled, "She will wait in here and I will come into the bathroom."

"But," said Harry weakly, but Quenah had already left. "Great..."

Deciding it couldn't be helped - and at least Quenah was the same gender - Harry got up and shuffled into the bathroom. He peered at his reflection and fumbled with the faucetless sink for some water. Running hands around the shallow depression, he yanked them back when water filled the bowl shape from the bottom up. No longer surprised at anything involving magic, he simply splashed some on his face to wake himself up a bit more, then moved towards the tub.

At the Dursleys, Harry usually only got to shower once every few days, so in the mornings he would just wash his face. But it seemed cleanliness was important to elves and they must bathe everyday, so with that in mind, Harry ran the bath and stripped while he waited for it to fill at least half way.

He kept sending nervous glances at the curtain across the archway into his room, but he heard no doors open, or footsteps, so assumed Quenah wasn't going to pop his head through any time soon.

He stopped the water and got in, relishing in the heat and feeling more rejuvenated. Washing quickly and only rinsing his hair without shampooing it, Harry had a bath in record time. And it seemed that he wasn't a moment too soon when he got out and wrapped a towel around his waist, running the other over his wet hair: Quenah's voice could be heard in the other room, telling the tailor something. Harry heard the words "him" and "please wait" so only assumed that the elf would appear any second.

"Your Highness, I brought your clothes," said Quenah as he entered. He was carrying a bundle of silky looking fabrics.

Harry dropped the second towel he was holding and inspected the garment that Quenah was holding up. It was just like most of the others he'd seen; a long-sleeved tunic-type shirt in a muted shade of green.

"Ok," he said, "I can get dressed on my own, thanks." He hoped Quenah would take the hint and leave.

Fortunately he did. He sketched a bow and said, "Of course, Your Highness. I'll be waiting outside."

Harry watched him leave and then made sure he was completely dry before discarding his first towel and laying out the clothes. He found what could only be the undergarments and put them on, over which came a brown pair of loose pants. The fabric draped strangely and he felt a little foolish in them. Next came the long tunic, which was easy to put on. There was a strange leather jerkin which he fumbled with for a while before he figured out how to lace it up properly. However, it took him a while to figure out how to do up the long length of embroidered cloth which he thought he was supposed to wrap around his waist. In the end, he had to give up and call on Quenah to come help.

"It's done like this," the elf explained helpfully as he made Harry stand with his arms out to the sides and facing the mirror in order to watch. He deftly wound the silky wrap around Harry's waist so the embroidery showed and did something funny with the ends in the back that made it stay in place.

"Um," said Harry uncertainly, twisting his head to get a better look.

"I'll show you again later, Your Highness," Quenah promised, then led him out of the bathroom.

The moment the tailor saw him, she jumped to her feet with a deep curtsy (she was wearing a high-collared dress today). Harry stopped, not knowing what to do, but she straightened and gestured him over to her magically-appearing footstool. He got on the stool and modelled for her as she muttered comments and asked him to turn right and left. Throughout the entire exchange, Quenah didn't say a word, and Harry felt fairly proud of himself for understanding enough of what the tailor was saying to be able to follow her instructions.

Then again, he suspected that some of the vocabulary that Quenah had taught him yesterday had been specifically targeted at certain things, such as the instructions the tailor was giving him. Nevertheless, Harry felt a small measure of accomplishment after the tailor left. She had given him two more sets of clothes to wear, and he marvelled at her ability to make so many outfits in only a day and night. He already knew elves had magic, so perhaps that had been involved.

"Is she making more?" he asked Quenah as they left his room (but not before Harry had grabbed his wand from the bedside table, remembering Moody's paranoia about constant vigilance). He searched for somewhere to place his wand, and eventually settled for sticking it in his waist wrap. It was a bit awkward, and poked his side something terrible, but it would have to do. He made a mental note to ask one of the Order to get him an arm holster as soon as he saw them again.

If he ever saw them again.

Harry paused his thoughts and firmly told himself not to be a pessimist. Aunt Petunia would not have left him here if she thought he was in any danger, and she had promised she would come collect him eventually. He didn't normally put much stock in anything his aunt promised him, but in this case he was inclined to believe her. Or rather, he was inclined to want to believe her.

"No, not yet," replied Quenah, interrupting Harry's dangerous thoughts, "she's going to wait a bit and measure you again."

Harry didn't know why the tailor might want to measure him again, since he was bound to be the same measurements.

"Where are we going?" he asked instead.

"To breakfast with Their Majesties."

"Oh," Harry squeaked, not sure he was ready for that, but at the same time a little eager to see his grandparents.

"Shall we go over greetings, Your Highness?" asked Quenah, sounding slightly sympathetic.

Harry nodded his head eagerly, wanting to impress the two royals, and needing to make sure his memory hadn't run off sometime during the night.

It didn't take long to get to the breakfast room (Harry learned that there were separate rooms for each meal), which was a floor below Harry's. The room itself seemed to be built and placed so that it could completely maximise the early morning sunshine streaming through the open windows. It reflected off of the gorgeous floral stone mosaics on the walls in subtle shimmering colours. Standing near silently and almost invisibly against the walls near the door were two stoic elves. They wore matching clothes and choker necklaces and blended into their environment remarkably well. Harry spared them a curious glance before turning his attention to the main occupants. There was a circular table in the middle of the room where the king and queen were seated, calmly eating and speaking in soft tones to each other. When Harry and Quenah entered, they looked up. He greeted them hesitantly, afraid of messing up, but it seemed to come out just fine.

"Araëmel," said the king, a small smile on his lips, "Did you sleep well?"

This phrase had been one that Quenah had taught Harry the day before, yet despite that his ears picked up the sounds perfectly, he didn't recognise one of the words. Hoping he hadn't missed anything vital, he managed to croak out a 'yes, thank you' which actually sounded like it was supposed to. The king's smile widened at Harry's obvious comprehension of the language, despite having known none the day before.

"Come, sit," spoke the queen, she nodded as well to Quenah, acknowledging him, "Your language has improved, I am impressed."

Quenah translated the last bit for him, but Harry hadn't really needed it. Still, he waited for Quenah to finish before he mumbled a thank you.

"I see you have new clothes," the king commented as he wandlessly levitated Harry a small bowl of fruits. Then he made a gesture with his hand and the servants on the wall glided forward to fill Harry's crystal goblet.

Harry thanked his grandfather uncertainly, eying the servants and wondering if he needed to thank them too. However, no one else acknowledged them, so he took his cue from that and focused on trying to dissect what the king had just said. It took no more than a few seconds to figure out the gist, but he hadn't understood everything and he didn't want to look like a fool by asking, so he decided a nod of the head was the best response, and hoped the king hadn't been expecting an actual answer.

They ate in silence for a while, the servants approaching only when something was needed. They were eerily proficient and so silent Harry nearly had a heart attack the first time he noticed one at his elbow ready to refill his goblet without so much as a footfall to announce her presence. Eventually, the queen decided to engage Harry in conversation, something to which Harry had been trying to avoid by keeping his head down and mind focused on eating.

"You have lessons today," she told him, while sipping some sort of sweet wine from a glass goblet.

After Quenah had leaned over and whispered the English translation of one of the unfamiliar words into Harry's ear, he was able to deduce her meaning. The second word he hadn't recognised was the same one the King had employed earlier, but he had also noticed this time that there was a distinct lack of personal pronouns and was beginning to suspect Quenah hadn't taught him everything yet.

He shook his head slightly, promising himself to get an explanation later. For the moment, he had to worry about 'lessons'. Wracking his brain for the list of question words he'd memorised the night before (but some of which he had forgotten, because it was a long list), Harry managed to say, "What lessons?"

"Etiquette, geography, and an introduction to sword fighting, archery and horse riding."

All those had to be translated for Harry. When comprehension dawned, he paled and wondered how on earth he was going to get through all that in one piece. It sounded like something Malfoy would do in his spare time. Harry shuddered.

"Furthermore," continued the queen, "we have been looking into our research on skins and their effects and have our best potions masters and spell crafters searching for an answer to your...problem."

Harry didn't understand a whole lot of what his grandmother had just said, but it sounded ominous from tone alone. When Quenah had translated everything, Harry's eyes nearly popped out of his head. They couldn't possibly mean…?

Harry quickly schooled his features, but inside he was frantically panicking. He didn't want them to use him as some sort of potions experiment!

The king turned and said, "Shall we depart then?" to his queen and they both stood. Harry quickly stood as well, bowing like he knew he should, and rattling off the already-memorised departing phrase. The king chuckled a bit at this and they both exited the room, leaving Harry alone with Quenah.

"You did well," praised Quenah as soon as the door was shut. "Better than I thought."

Harry smiled nervously at this, shrugging and saying, "Yeah, surprised me too. Must do well under pressure." More like he only did well under pressure.

Quenah nodded at this, taking the excuse as it was.

Harry glanced at him, wondering how fast he could learn the language. The more he could understand them, the better advantage he would have. Maybe he could even find a way to get back to Britain and leave this whole mess behind.

What about your grandparents? his traitorous mind asked.

They're not really my grandparents, he tried to convince himself.

But you want them to be. You want a family.

I have Aunt Petunia, Harry grumbled to himself angrily, then even he had to snort at this. His aunt had never treated him like family before and only recently had even voluntarily called him by his first name.

Harry sighed.

Just don't think about it.

Thus, Harry Potter's slightly insane mental conversation ended, and he was not in denial, thank you very much. He turned to Quenah.

"Keep teaching me," he ordered the elf.

Quenah's face broke out in a large grin. "With pleasure, Your Highness."

They spent the rest of breakfast going over what Harry had learned the other day and reinforcing it, continuing even on the way down to the lower portions of the palace where Harry would be having lessons with an elf who had dedicated her life to etiquette. Quenah tried to fill Harry's brain with as many words and phrases as he could think of that might pertain to anything the etiquette teacher could say. It was entirely too much for Harry to remember of course, but Quenah made Harry repeat several of the more important ones over and over again until he was about ready to scream, but definitely had them memorised. The most important word, of course, was the name of the etiquette teacher's position - there wasn't a word for it in English, but it loosely translated to 'Master of Etiquette'.

When they walked into the room of their destination, he was feeling a little more confident, but not overly so. This confidence was completely shattered when, as soon as they entered through the door, the teacher - a fair haired elf woman who strongly reminded Harry of Professor McGonagall by her demeanour and facial expression - rose and executed a rather elaborate curtsy and greeting statement that was like nothing Harry knew. Having no idea what to do, he simply stood there uncertainly. When the teacher straightened, she took one look at Harry and immediately pursed her lips in a very McGonagall way and gestured sharply at a chair with the words, "Please sit down, Your Highness."

Understanding that much, Harry sat down, feeling totally overwhelmed and watched as Quenah took a seat beside him. He shot the elf a desperate look, but Quenah ignored it and smiled encouragingly.

And thus began a lesson that Harry would later liken to being worse than Dolores Umbridge's Defence Against the Dark Arts class.

It was quite obvious from the beginning that Harry had no clue about any sort of elvin etiquette, and the teacher seemed to take personal offence to this. She made a point of speaking quickly and using big words and long-winded explanations that even Quenah had trouble translating into English in order to describe the ins and outs of every day elvin social interaction. This was the first hour, and poor Quenah spent more time speaking - trying to explain to Harry a lot of the obscure words that simply didn't have a direct translation - than the teacher did.

"A what?" Harry complained for the tenth time in fifteen minutes.

"Laeryénal is a type of bow performed only to members of the Houses, but only when the one bowing is a member of the Houses of a lower rank, and only when it is a bow executed for purposes of apology. It is very elaborate."

"And the 'Houses' are like the aristocracy, right?"

"Yes, Your Highness, that's right."

"So what you're saying is that instead of saying sorry for something, some lower aristocrat has to do this funny, fancy bow?"

"Not...exactly, Your Highness. The bow is the initiation of the apology, and the closing of the apology both, but not the apology itself."

"So then what's the point, why not just apologise and be done with it?"

The etiquette teacher nearly had a heart attack, Quenah nearly groaned - and Harry really didn't get why everything had to be so complicated.

Harry frowned. "And why only the Houses? What if a...commoner, I guess, had to make an apology to a member of the Houses instead?"

The etiquette teacher looked like she'd swallowed a bushel of lemons whole. She immediately began to berate Harry through Quenah.

"Your Esteemed Highness, I beg you to understand the difference between a member of the honoured Houses and a simple commoner. There would never arrive such a situation, for it is unheard of for a commoner to even conceive of offending a member of the Houses enough to warrant an apology," Quenah translated verbatim.

The teacher pursed her lips and added sourly, "Your Highness should also understand that if such a situation was to occur, the offender in question would pay with his or her life."

Harry was aghast. "The death penalty!" he exclaimed. "For something like that?"

"Not the death penalty," Quenah was quick to explain, before the etiquette teacher could burst a blood vessel, "there is no such barbaric thing in Elwýn, Your Highness. The offender in question would have to swear servitude to whichever House member he or she had offended in order to repay the wrongdoing."

Harry didn't think that this was much better. His mind flashed back to the two collared servants in the breakfast room and wondered if those two poor elves had somehow offended the king and queen and had to swear themselves into servitude.

In the end, Harry learned a lot of useless things, but not much about the people themselves - except for the fact that they all seemed to live by a never-ending set of overbearing rules which allowed for virtually no freedom whatsoever. The etiquette teacher didn't help matters either. She was like a woman possessed. She seemed entirely too passionate about the intricacies of the underlying meanings behind certain greetings and forms of speech than was healthy. She was like a highly-strung, less tolerant, but more sycophantic version of his Transfiguration professor. Rather than risk upsetting her more, he tried to learn as much as he could about elves without asking too many questions.

After all was said and done, Harry hadn't missed the glaring similarities between elvin society and that of pureblood wizarding England. Harry wasn't an expert on pureblood society in the first place, but from what he did know, it all sounded suspiciously familiar. The elves seemed to place high priority on tradition, ceremony and blood. Most of these things Harry didn't agree with in the least, but he held his tongue until he and Quenah were in the corridor outside the learning room.

"That was torture," Harry confided in him after they were a good deal away from the room. He looked over his shoulder, half expecting the demon-teacher to be looming over his shoulder to correct his manner of speech and posture.

"Yes, I agree, Your Highness," said Quenah faintly, "Even I did not know some of that, and I have been around for quite some time."

That piqued Harry's interest.

"How old are you anyway?" he asked.

Quenah raised an eyebrow. "Does Your Highness not remember just being told that asking an Elwý their age directly is considered bad manners?"

Harry rolled his eyes and said, "So?"

"If you must know, my prince," Quenah sighed, "I am over thirty centuries old."

Harry did the math and was left gaping, eyes wide and mouth open.

"Over three thousand years old?" he gasped out.

"It is not that old," said Quenah, clearly offended. Then added a hasty, "Your Highness."

Harry begged to differ. "That's old. And you can really stop with all the 'your highness's and 'my prince's, you know."

Quenah pursed his lips slightly and chose not to respond to the second half of his statement. "An Elwý's life-span is bordering on immortal," the elf lectured as they walked, "it has been documented that the longest living elf lived to be nearly nine thousand years old, though most don't make it that far."

Harry felt like his mind was going to melt. Almost nine thousand! He could live to be over eight thousand years old! It was simply too much to take in.

No stupid, you're human, remember? Denial reared its ugly head.

Quenah was still talking. "A lot of Elwý die of accidents when they become older, or of a sickness, or in battle."

"Battle?" asked Harry, startled by this.

Quenah nodded. "Yes, Your Highness," (Harry sighed), "all Elwý are required to do at least a century's worth of war service for every millennia and a half that they live."

"So you...?"

"Yes, I've done two centuries. However, I did them both back to back, so I still have another fifteen centuries to go before I will be required to do another."

"And when you get older it's easier to die," Harry concluded.

"Yes. Exactly, Your Highness."

"I have a name you know."

"Yes, Araëmel-arýon."

Harry nearly groaned. "Not that name." He shook his head in exasperation and refocused on the conversation. "So, this means that you aren't really immortal?"

Quenah's lips quirked. "We are not, no, but I challenge you to find another being with a lifespan as long as ours. In comparison, Your Highness, we are immortal."

"Oh," mumbled Harry, mind flicking to his Care of Magical Creatures class. He didn't think Hagrid had ever mentioned any creatures that lived half as long as the Elwý seemed to. Quenah was right; in comparison, the elves seemed virtually immortal.

They stopped walking in front of another room, this time with no door. Peering through into the brightly lit room, Harry could see lots of large stretches of vellum hanging on walls and rolls of parchment littering the large table in the centre.

"Anyway," he muttered as they entered to find the room empty, "what about royalty? They don't go to war, right?"

"Ah," said Quenah, pursing his lips, "no one knows."

"Huh?"

"No one knows. The royal House guard themselves very jealously. When a monarch steps down, they are normally never seen or heard from again."

Harry stared at the elf, trying to process this. His family didn't...they didn't off themselves did they?

"Ah! Here we go!" Quenah greeted a younger male elf who had walked through the archway, interrupting Harry's thoughts. It was probably just as well, he thought to himself as the new elf bowed to him, but not before giving him a curious once over.

Harry's geography lesson was much more interesting than his etiquette one had been. For one, he could understand his teacher, whose name was Dóretell (Dóre for short in Harry's mind), a lot better than the demon-witch, because he took care to speak slowly and enunciate fully. With Quenah's translating and whispering in his ear, Harry found himself picking up words easily. Secondly, Harry got to learn that the elves' dimension wasn't just home to elves like he'd first assumed, nor did it have mysterious misty borders to the unknown. It was also home to many magical beings - some of which were distant ancestors of ones Harry knew from the wizarding world and others completely new - some of which were allies of the elves and some of which were enemies.

"Our greatest enemy here in this realm is the Radagu," Quenah translated softly. "This word means 'beast shifter'. They are a race of beings able to shape-shift into a beast of their choice. The more powerful the shifter, the more beasts he or she can shift into. They are strong and fast and very rabid, but fortunately neither numerous nor organised enough to cause us more trouble than we can handle."

"And why do they fight you?" Harry asked both elves.

"Us," Quenah reminded him lightly. "Why do they fight us, Your Highness."

Dóre was slow to answer this, but he seemed to find no shame in the response, "When we first came to this realm, the land we now occupy used to belong to the Radagu tribes. They were very spread out, barbaric, always fighting amongst themselves. They did not need all the land they held, for they never used it for anything other than hunting and waging war. It was much better cultivated in our hands. We drove them out, into the lands of those you would call Centaurs, and the mountains of the Dragons. It is for this reason that the Centaurs and Dragons do not quite welcome us either. They have long memories."

Harry thought that they probably had every reason to hate the Elwý if they'd done something like that. "Well, I'm not surprised," he said.

Dóre looked shocked. "They are nothing more than animals, Your Highness. Brutish beings undeserving of consideration. They have long forgotten why they even fight us, only that they hate us and attack as many of our border towns as possible. Radagu are much shorter lived, with a lifespan of only a few centuries, and they are not very interested in the art of cultivating history."

Harry shrugged. "Still."

Dóre and Quenah exchanged looks, and then Dóre proclaimed that they would move onto the older ancestors of the Unicorns, who lived to the southwest, on the large flat plains of the Centaurs, or 'Horse Lords' as they were known in this realm. Harry discovered they were twice the size of normal unicorns and that the males were fierce fighters. It was only the females and young who were pure and held the ability to heal any injury.

For each territory outside of Elwýn, Dóre taught Harry a brief history of what species lived there, what the state of their politic was like (if they even had any), and a geographical overlay of the lands. He spent more than half their time together (a full two hours) talking about Elwýn and its geography. When Harry came away from the class, he was at least feeling a lot better and more solid in his knowledge of where he actually was and its surroundings.

The Elwýn capitol, Calatharen, his current location, was nestled at the base of the largest mountain range of the explored territories, the Fanyërncthath Mountains, or the Fanyërncthath Aeglirth, as it was called in Elwýnllambe. On its south side it was bordered by the largest forest, the Taurin Calathmal, or the Forest of Golden Light. Harry thought the names a touch fanciful, because unless the trees were made out of gold, they probably shone green just like any other vegetation. There was also no way he was going to keep that many long and ridiculous sounding names straight in his head, so he was forced to write them all down with Quenah's help. Now the elder elf carried a rolled up scroll of Harry's scribbled notes with him.

However, he also walked away from the room feeling heavy. Everything that Dóre had taught him only served to cement his belief that the Elwý were hypocritical, unkind, and supremacists.

"What next?" he asked Quenah reluctantly.

"Lunch!" exclaimed the elf happily.

Harry had noticed that after he had asked Quenah not to call him by his title all the time, he had become a little less formal and more open. At least something was going right.

"Also," said Quenah, "we can continue your grammar lessons. We'll take lunch in your room."

"Okay," Harry acquiesced.

On the way back to the tower, Quenah made Harry repeat all the new words he'd learned and corrected his pronunciation as best he could. When they reached the guards at the doors to the royal quarters, the elf told one of the guards to have lunch brought to Harry's room, and then they went through.

Being back in his room made Harry feel much more comfortable. In here there were no wide-eyed stares or muted whisperings as he passed, just him and Quenah.

"Well, let's start then, shall we, Your Highness?" Quenah took a seat and clasped his hands.

Harry got out his notes, quill and ink, and they set to work.

Harry had never been outside the palace yet, but apparently in order to get to where they practised sword-play, archery, and kept the horses, one had to descend to the third and largest palace building, which lay sprawled out across a large expanse of flat ground at the edge of the forest. This, Quenah informed Harry, usually took about half an hour to walk. However, because Harry was important, he got to have special privileges, one of which included the use of the transportation towers for trivial matters such as getting to the lower palace in record time.

Harry knew about the transportation tower in this part of the palace because it was the means by which he had arrived in this dimension, but he hadn't known there was one in each section of the palace. On the walk over to the one they were going to use to get to the third tower, Harry asked Quenah about them.

He learned that they were specially designed towers built with runic circles and spelled stones in order to enable an elf with the proper knowledge to travel almost anywhere. It was, of course, easier to use them as pathways between another transportation tower, but if an elf was skilled enough they could open up a circle in any location. Unless, Quenah told Harry, the area had been warded against transportation circles (for instance, anywhere inside the palace grounds that wasn't a transportation tower itself) anywhere was fair game. Unfortunately, the elf lamented to his student, most any elf with money, and a lot of their neighbouring nations, had erected barriers of their own, so the transportation circles could only really be used as a convenient means of travel and not invasion or assassination. Harry was privately glad for this, because that sounded simply awful.

The transportation circles reminded him of apparition. Able to transport you anywhere with enough power and know-how, but also capable of being warded against. He silently wondered if transportation circles could splinch you as well, and almost laughed at the image of a helpless, splinched elf standing in line at St. Mungo's to get fixed.

At the transportation tower, there were two guards blocking the entrance that Harry hadn't noticed the day before. Quenah exchanged a few words with them and gestured to Harry. The elves nodded and stepped to the side, allowing them through the doors and into the room. One of them followed them in.

"She's going to do the spell for us," said Quenah in explanation.

They stepped into the centre of the room, into the inlaid circle, and this time Harry closed his eyes when the chanting started, already knowing that the resulting light would blind him otherwise.

The chanting reached a crescendo, he saw the light flash behind his eyelids, and then there was a strange sense of vertigo. Harry opened his eyes and saw that they were in almost an exact replica of the previous room, except the colours were a little different, as well as the position of the light and shadows.

"Thank you," he told the elf who'd done the spell as they exited the room. Harry thought he might have startled her, because she blinked at him curiously and then craned her neck for a better view as they passed out of sight.

This time, as they walked the corridors and went down stairs, not as many elves stared at Harry. He thought perhaps that the news hadn't travelled as far down as the third palace yet, and that the elves simply assumed he was a child (due to his short height) because he was wearing regular elvin clothes. A few did do a double take however, and Harry had no doubt that by the end of the day, every elf would know there was a human on the premises.

Oh well, he supposed they'd have to get used to it. He was supposed to be their prince, after all. The thought still sent shivers down his spine. It was still so unreal. But considering all the strange things that had happened to Harry throughout his life, he wasn't surprised he was taking the news with minimal mental break downs and screaming fits. He was quite used to handling life-changing news by now. Besides, he reminded himself, it wasn't like it was actually true. He still thought there must have been some sort of mistake.

Harry turned his attention back to their surroundings as, for the first time in a couple days, he stepped outside. They exited through a side door and into what looked like a courtyard. Quenah obviously knew where he was going, because he led Harry across the grass covered courtyard with its stone benches and strange, pale brown trees with light yellow leaves. There was an exit in one corner and a short corridor of arches later and they were stepping fully outside the palace. In the distance Harry could see the beginnings of a large forest and before that a large field. However, Quenah directed them towards what looked to be a stable, or perhaps barracks.

It was both, Harry soon discovered. The stables and barracks were connected to each other and encircled almost half of the third palace on the outside, where it would be most vulnerable to attack - not, Quenah told him, that the palace had ever been attacked. Its wards and defenses on the outskirts of the forest were far too strong. The palace lay right in the centre of Elwýn as well, so any attackers would have to get through any number of towns before they ever reached the capital.

They entered the training yards through the stables. Quenah told Harry to keep an eye out for a tall elf man with blond hair, probably wearing some sort of armour or carrying a sword, and missing his left ear.

"He lost it in battle," Quenah said, correctly interpreting Harry's startled look.

Harry wondered if this elf not only resembled Moody, but acted like him too.

They didn't have to look far. They found the elf in question near the joining of the stables to the barracks. He was bellowing loudly at some poor underling and still sounding quite fierce, despite the beauty of his language. Harry was about to step forward and turn the elf's ire away from the boy (who looked around his age, the first elf child Harry had seen) onto himself, but Quenah held him back, telling him not to interfere.

Harry hovered on the sidelines for a moment or too, hesitant, until he was distracted by a whinny. Most of the horses were out in the paddock, but this one was still in its stall. He stepped forward for a closer look.

It was a beautiful beast, easily rivalling the Headmistress of Beauxbaton's flying horses in splendour and grace.

"Hi," he whispered, getting close enough to pet the curious head peeking over its stall door.

"Hm, what's this?" said a loud voice behind Harry.

Harry whirled around, feeling automatically guilty despite having not done anything wrong. There was an elf looming over him, the same one that had been just moments ago shouting at the boy. Harry gulped.

"A human?" The elf leaned down to peer at Harry, and never before had Harry truly felt his lack of height than right that second.

Still, at least he understood what was being said to him. He chanced a glance at Quenah, but the elf was leaving him to his own devices, no doubt wishing him to practise his language skills.

"Well?" barked the imposing elf, who Harry belatedly realised was his teacher because he was clearly missing his left ear.

He cleared his throat. "I am, uh, Harry."

The elf threw back his head and laughed. Harry had no idea what was so funny.

"This is your new student," Quenah offered helpfully, when the chuckles died down.

"I'm teaching humans now?" asked the elf, and tones of disgust could be heard. "Humans that speak as if they were above me?"

Harry only understood enough of that to know he should be offended, but he still didn't know what had made the elf laugh.

"He is above you," Quenah said stiffly. "This is Araëmel-aryón."

'Above' Harry mouthed to himself, trying to figure out what that meant. The word was similar to something his etiquette teacher had mentioned, but he wasn't sure if he was guessing right. 'Above', perhaps, as in a higher rank?

"Araëmel-aryón is human?" the elf deadpanned, shooting Harry a scathing glance.

"Absolutely not!" Quenah exclaimed. "Of course not, there's just been a bit of a skin problem."

Harry heard the oft-repeated word of "skin" and understood that they still thought he wasn't really human. He knew, of course, that he really was. He was born this way, he grew up this way, thus he was human. It made perfect sense to him.

But either way, Harry's teacher changed his scowl to a smirk and looked Harry over with a critical eye. He said something clearly insulting about Harry because Quenah blushed and choked.

"H-how dare you-" Quenah spluttered.

The elf drew himself up. "I am the teacher, he is my student, prince or not. I am Melcacrist the Second, and Their Majesties know that they will find no one better than I." He whirled on Harry. "Come."

Harry, understanding at least that much, and appreciating the elf's straightforwardness, followed him obediently.

The elf stalked into a room (for once what Harry considered a proper room, meaning that there were no large, breezy windows) and emerged some seconds later with an armful of gear which he immediately dumped on his student. Harry had to fumble to keep hold of it all, but didn't mind, feeling the small comfort of familiarity through the rough treatment.

As they walked through the barracks (and as curious elvin heads popped out of rooms to watch with wide eyes), Harry's teacher introduced himself and laid down some rules.

"My name is Master Melcacrist," he began. "That does not mean Melcacrist, Melca, or 'excuse me' as I have sometimes been addressed. It means Master Melcacrist or 'sir', is that clear?"

Then Melcacrist proceeded to scowl at Harry as he had to wait for Quenah to hurriedly translate the speech. As soon as the elf was done, Harry rapidly nodded his head and said, "Yes sir!"

Melcacrist seemed pleased by this and went on speaking. "Furthermore, I don't care if you're the crown prince of the world. When it comes to war and battles, I'm the best teacher they have, so I want no pussy-footing around. While you are with me, you'll be the one obeying me, not the other way around."

After this was translated, although Harry got the main gist of it by the elf's tone alone, he again said, "Yes, sir," as respectfully as possible.

"Good."

They stopped again at another room for two wooden practise swords, which Harry was also forced to carry, but not before he was made to change into what he had previously been carrying. This turned out to be a less colourful version of the clothes that Melcacrist was wearing. He also put on a much tougher, thicker leather jerkin and two leather arm guards.

Quenah hovered over his shoulder the whole time, clearly upset by the disrespect his prince was receiving, but obviously knowing Melcacrist's temperament and reputation, so saying nothing. Harry was grateful, well aware that if his tutor said anything to rile the elf up, it could result in it being taken out on him.

They reached a practise ring which was fenced off and Melcacrist had Harry lean the swords against a post before having him stand in the middle of the ring across from him. Harry began to get nervous. Didn't they need the swords to practise?

Apparently, Melcacrist had other ideas. He started off the lesson with a question and answer session which kept Quenah working overtime with the back and forth translations.

"Have you had any previous fighting experience at all?" his teacher asked.

Harry frowned. "What kind of fighting experience?"

Melcacrist scowled. "Anything. Brawling, dodging, duelling."

"Um, yeah, pretty much all three." Harry replied, racking his brain for instances.

"Explain," came Melcacrist's command.

"Well, I've sort of brawled before. You mean punching and stuff, right? I have a school rival who I get into fights with and I sort of almost wrestled a troll once." Suddenly Harry almost laughed, realising the complete irony of that last statement. It looked like the Weasley twins had been right, after all - wrestling trolls was all part of the Hogwarts experience after all. "And I've have plenty of practise dodging," he continued, suppressing his previous desire to chuckle, "since my cousin Dudley used to have a game he called 'Harry hunting'." Harry received two blank stares at this, so he had to elaborate. "Er, he and his gang would chase after me and if they caught me they would beat me up. Anyway, and I've had plenty practise duelling before." He pulled out his wand from where he'd slipped it through the waistband of his pants.

Melcacrist looked at it in astonishment, although Quenah was still busy muttering the phrase "Harry hunting" incredulously under his breath.

"Duelling with a stick?" Melcacrist looked like he wanted to laugh.

"It's a wand!" exclaimed Harry hotly, offended.

"A wand."

"Yes! What else could you have meant by duelling?" Harry waved his wand around exaggeratedly, emphasising his point.

"Swords," said Melcacrist shortly, "and be respectful!"

After this was translated, Harry muttered a sheepish, "Sorry, sir."

The elf stared at him for a few moments, clearly assessing him with his gaze. Harry waited patiently, not wanting to aggravate him further by saying something he wasn't supposed to.

"Explain this wand duelling to me," Melcacrist finally demanded.

"Um, well, you sort of stand across from each other, or in a battle, across from your enemy, and shoot spells at each other, dodge them, block them, that sort of thing," he explained awkwardly.

Melcacrist's eyebrows rose. "You've been in battles?"

Blushing, Harry nodded.

"Hmm, show me one of these 'spells' of yours. I assume it is human magic?" Melcacrist waved his hand off to the side.

Harry glanced at the empty patch of dirt, not sure what to do. He glanced at Quenah for help, but the elf had no clue either. What spell could Harry do on an empty patch of dirt? And what about the Ministry - would they be able to detect him? He didn't think so, he was in another dimension after all, and if they Ministry knew it existed, Harry would have learnt about the elves a long time ago. He figured he was safe from Griselda Marchbanks and the Improper Use of Magic Department.

Finally, he had an idea. He flicked his wand in the direction of the wooden swords and said a firm, "Accio sword."

One of the wooden swords lifted off the ground and came zooming towards him. He caught it in his left hand by the hilt and turned back to his teacher. The elf was watching him calculatingly.

"Put it back," he ordered.

Shrugging, Harry banished the sword back to its place and stuck his wand back into his waistband.

"Have you had any experience with swords?" Melcacrist asked.

Harry hesitated, remembering the incident with the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets.

"Spit it out!" Melcacrist demanded, although Quenah's translation was a lot more respectful, which earned him a glare.

"Well, once I used this sword to kill a basilisk," he told them, although it probably didn't count as real sword fighting.

When the two elve's faces began to drain of colour and pale rapidly, Harry reckoned he probably shouldn't have said that. Melcacrist didn't even need a translation to understand what Harry had said, the basilisk being a universally deadly and hated serpent.

"Y-you did what?" Quenah practically screeched.

Harry's eyes widened. "I'm sorry! It was going to kill me and I had to save my friend!"

"You killed it with just a sword?" Melcacrist asked faintly, and it took a few tries for Quenah to get his question across.

"Yeah, but," Harry hastened to reassure them that he hadn't killed it in some super hero fit of strength, "it got me in the arm with one of its fangs. Here, I have the scar to prove it." He rolled up his sleeve and displayed the shiny whitish patch of skin in his forearm.

Both elves gaped at him some more and Harry cursed his big mouth and inability to say the right things.

"How are you not dead?" Quenah gasped. "Not even an Elwý can survive a basilisk's venom!"

But of course, Harry thought, he had stupidly forgotten that a basilisk's venom was deadly. Of course they would be wondering how he wasn't dead.

"It was Fawkes. He's a phoenix. He cried on my wound and it healed."

The two elves calmed down considerably at this information, but they still looked either gob-smacked or heartily impressed.

"Still," mussed Melcacrist as Quenah translated, "you can't be more than sixteen years old. That is impressive for a sixteen year old."

"I was twelve," Harry corrected without thinking.

"Why am I not surprised," said Quenah weakly. He then reluctantly explained to a curious sword master. Melcacrist was silent for a minute as he stopped to digest everything Harry had stupidly revealed.

"I think," he finally smirked, "I will like working with you, Your Highness."

Harry started at the show of respect, but then grinned slightly. Maybe revealing all he had, had been a good idea. Now his teacher respected him and would hopefully go easier on him.

But that was not to be. Evidently, respect in Master Melcacrist's book meant being twice as hard as he would have been before and acting like an all around slave driver. By the end of Harry's preliminary sword lesson, he was sweating buckets, had several brand new bruises, and his muscles were aching so hard from blocking sword swings that they felt like they were about to drop off.

"Now," said Melcacrist cheerfully as Harry collapsed on the ground, "we'll move onto horse riding next to give your arms a rest before archery."

Harry groaned.

So, yes, it's been a while. I plead final year of university stress, workload, and yet more computer problems. Kernal panics anyone? Well, I've got an appointment at an Apple store to fix THAT and I swear to all that is holy that if one more thing goes wrong, I'm demanding a new laptop. Honestly. This is ridiculous. It's not normal to spend 15 minutes trying to restart your computer because not even the power button is responding!

Moving on, so, there's quite a bit of change midway for this chapter. Mostly, I got a bit more creative with the 'background' information for this realm. I wanted a more comprehensive history for the elves and the other species that live in the lands surrounding Elwyn. Because I want this world to be real, rather than some half-baked attempt at creating an excuse for Harry to be a)an elf and b)a prince XD

So, let me know what you think of the changes. I say this every time, but if you have any questions, please don't hesitate to ask them in a review or drop me a PM. I've had some really helpful reviews lately, so thanks a lot to those of you who've been pointing out small mistakes my sister and I have overlooked. I do intend to correct these, but as they're not major faults, they're not as high on my priority list as getting the next chapters out...ya know, when I actually have time to sit down and do something personal and that's not related to school. Egads.

Question: (I only got one response last time, so I'm asking again) How many of you would be interested in me putting up a map of Elwyn (and its surrounding territories), including names of places, cities, etc...and perhaps an accompanying word document with descriptions? Depending on the interest level, I'll shift priorities around to see how quickly I can get that out. I've got it partially complete right now simply because it was helpful for me when re-writing, but bits of it that don't really show up in the story are left blank. I can fill in those gaps and put it online if you guys want, but it's up to you, so let me know.

Cheers,

xoxRia

Posted: 21/02/11