Title: Of Wizards and Elves

Author: Tamiamus

Rating: FR-16

Beta: Tals

Summary: When Harry Potter is six he is whisked away to Rivendell by a burst of accidental magic. How will growing up as Lord Elrond's foster son change his time at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry?

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and Warner Brothers. Lord of the Rings is owned by Tolkien and his estate. I only play with them for a while before giving them back unharmed. No money is being made from this.

"blah" talking.

'blah' thinking.

"blah" elven language.

Warnings: Child abuse, possible slash pairing much later in the story.

CHAPTER TWO

Harry slowly returned to consciousness. For a moment he thought he was still locked up in his cupboard, and that the forest and the elves had all been nothing but his own pained and fevered mind's imagination. However even without opening his eyes he knew this was not so, since, for the first time ever he felt a soft bed under him and a warm, comfortable blanket covering his body. The pain that had ravaged his body for the two days he had spent locked in the tiny cupboard was all but gone, leaving only a slightly achy feeling in his body.

He heard soft footsteps coming at him and stiffened reflexively, waiting for the yelling or the beating that was sure to follow. When the footsteps stopped in front of the bed he was lying in, the only action its owner took was to stroke the hair gently from his face and tuck the blanket in under him.

Harry cautiously opened his eyes and gasped. The most beautiful woman he had ever seen stood by his bed, smiling down at him. She had long black hair and pointy ears, her face looked like that of an impossibly perfect china doll and her blue eyes were filled with tenderness. She looked at him the same way he sometimes imagined his mother would have looked at him when he was a baby.

Then he noticed the room he was in, it had white walls and light furniture, and the bed he was lying in was even bigger than his aunt's and uncle's. He also thought it most be much softer, though he had never lain on his relatives bed so he had nothing to compare with. Sunlight streamed in from the large, strangely shaped windows, though they couldn't really be called windows, since there was no glass in them. All in all it was the most beautiful room Harry had ever seen.

Arwen Undumiel smiled down at the young child lying in the bed. He looked much better now than he had five days ago when her twin brothers Elladan and Elrohir as well as Glorfindel had gotten all of the 'Last Homely House' in an uproar, when they had arrived with a half dead child in their midst. The child had been grievously wounded and it took all of her father Elrond's considerable power to heal the poor boy. For two days it had been uncertain whether or not the boy would survive his wounds but on the third day her father had finally been able to stabilize him. After much debate it had been decided that they would also remove the many scars that marred the boy's skin so he would not be reminded of his injuries everytime he looked into a mirror. Another consideration was that so much scar tissue would also impede his movements.

And so the boy whom she looked at was much changed from the bloody, pale and scar riddled child whom she had first seen five days ago. This little child was still much to small for his age, in fact he looked more like a 4 year old than the six years her father had said when he had examined the boy. He was frightfully skinny though that would be remedied with a few hearty meals, the sun would take away the pallor of his skin, but to change the fearful look in his green eyes would take time and love and care.

Arwen sat down on his bed carefully and slowly as not to frighten the boy, then she reached out and stroked his hair again, hiding a frown when she felt him stiffen at the contact. 'Someone has treated this child poorly for him to fear all human or elven touch. But that much is apparent from his injuries as well. Adar said the scars dated back at least four years. By the Valar, someone has hurt the poor child bad enough to leave scars when he was no more than 2 seasons old.'Arwen thought as she kept up the rhythmic strokes on the boy's hair. She smiled when the boy slowly began to relax and his formerly erratic breathing changed into that of a person asleep.

Her brothers had been outraged by the boy's condition, in fact all of the elves had been. The mere thought of harming a child was abhorrent to elves, who paid for their longevity with a very low birth rate. Since children so seldom were borne to the elves, they treasured them all the more. An elf would rather die than harm a child, oh they might scold him or her if the child was up to mischief, might even yell in cases of great fear or stress, but never would an elf raise his hand to a child. Glorfindel had been even more incensed than the others since he had recognized the poor, half dead child as the other half of his soul.

All elves had a soul mate, someone who would make them complete, and when they were faced with this person they would instantly recognize him or her. Age, race or gender did not matter in the cases of soul mates, there was only one for every elf and in many cases an elf would not find this person. This was either due to distance or that the person had lived and died long before the elf was able to find him or her. This did not mean that an elf who did not find his soul mate was doomed to spend the rest of his life alone and without love, in fact many elves never found their soul mates and lived perfectly happy lives without them.

But in cases like Glorfindel's who had found and recognized his soul mate, he would never be truly happy before he had bonded with him. While the boy was still too young for him to even begin to think about courting him, and would be for years to come, the fact that someone had hurt him was more than Glorfindel could tolerate.

When Harry awoke next, the beautiful woman had been replaced by a dark haired serious looking man, or elf, really. The elf placed both his hands on Harry's temple, making the boy flinch with the suddenness of his movements. Harry barely had time to calm his racing heart and convincing himself that no, the elf wouldn't hurt him, before something strange happened.

The skin under the elf's hands started to tingle and these tingles slowly wound their way inside of his head. The strange sensation intensified and Harry felt as though his head would explode, it felt so filled up with the tingles. Strangely enough it didn't hurt at all. Suddenly he was assaulted by a weightless feeling and the edges of his vision turned white. Harry barely managed to gasp as he felt himself losing consciousness.

Elrond smiled as he felt the magic he had just performed on the child take hold. After having spend the last five days alternately healing his wounds and getting rid of his scars he was quite exhausted. Never the less, he had felt it paramount to make sure the child would be able to understand the elven language so he would not be more distressed and frightened by being in a new place than necessary. The magic to allow the child to understand their language had been complex and tiring, but the benefit for the child more than made up for his own fatigued state. The boy would probably sleep for a few days while his body adapted itself to all the magic that had gone into healing it and removing the scars, but Lord Elrond was glad to note that the boy would have no lasting physical signs of his abuse.

Strangely enough there had been one scar that had refused all his efforts to remove it; the lightning bolt shaped scar on the child's forehead was still visible through the boy's black, unruly hair. This scar had obviously been the result of some foul curse cast upon the child and Elrond wondered who would use such a curse on a young child. He doubted that those who had been responsible for the rest of the boy's scars and wounds had been behind that particular scar since none of the others had been caused by magic. He would have to ask Lady Galadriel if she had seen anything about the boy and how he got the scar in her mirror the next time he visited Lothlorien.

Three days later the boy finally showed signs of waking. Lord Elrond had already decided that he would take the child into his care and raise him as a son. When Arwen came to him and told him that the boy would wake up within minutes, he dropped the report he had been working on and quickly made his way to the room the child had been placed in. Elrond had barely been in the room more than five minutes before those startling green eyes opened and the boy glanced fearfully at him, his daughter Arwen and the unfamiliar room. Arwen sat down on the boy's bed and smiled gently at him.

"Hush child, you are in no danger here. I am Arwen and this is my Adar (Father) Elrond. You were brought here so that we could heal your wounds. I promise you that no harm will come to you in this place."

Harry's eyes widened when he not only realized that the language the woman, Arwen spoke was one he had never heard before, but that he in fact had understood every word she had said. He was even more shocked when his answer, a question of where he was, came out of his mouth in the same, strangely melodious language. 'Rivendell? Imladriss? what a strange name, and why would one place be called by two different names?' He wondered, then his thoughts turned back to the mystery at hand.

'How is that possible, I've never learned the language, never heard it before. How could I possibly be able to speak and understand it?'.

Apparently the man, or rather elf, Elrond interpreted his facial expression correctly and answered his question in the same language.

"I have performed a spell on you that allows you to understand us. I did this so you would not be so alarmed by your presence in an unfamiliar environment. What is your name, child?"

Harry paled when he heard the word 'spell'. Magic was not spoken of in the Dursley home, not ever. Even Dudley was yelled at id he as much as said the 'M-word' and the Dursleys hardly ever yelled at their precious son. Harry had always thought that magic might really exist, since it would go a long way to explain some of the strange thing that sometimes happened around him. Once, when his aunt had cut his hair down to less than half and inch, it had grown back within a night. And the time Dudley had deliberately crushed the roses Harry had been tending to get him punished by his uncle, the roses had sprung back up, unharmed almost immediately. Of course everytime these things happened Harry was punished harshly for his 'freakishness', even though he had not done anything. Consequently even though Harry suspected magic might be the explanation, he was frightened by the mere mention of it since it always lead to pain for him.

That this Elrond spoke so casually of it was both frightening and liberating for Harry. His first response was fear, but when he thought about it a little hope started to make its way into his heart. If magic really was so casually spoken of maybe they wouldn't punish him when strange stuff happened.

Of course Arwen had said that he would not be harmed, but he had never been known anything but life at the Dursleys, so he didn't know if he could trust that statement, no matter how much he wished it to be true.

"I... my name is Harry, sir, Harry Potter. I am sorry to be such a bother to you, I feel much better now, Thank you, so I should probably leave soon?"

Harry flushed miserably, his body still felt stiff, and lying in a bed, a real bed, for the first time in his life felt better than he had ever imagined. The two elves seemed very nice and hadn't threatened him or hurt him yet, but he knew better than to overstay his welcome. He remembered how he had come to be here, well not in this room, but in the forest, and doubted that he would be able to find his way back again. Then again the chance to live without he Dursleys was very uplifting. Even if he didn't know where to go or how to survive. He wasn't too worried, surely anything was better than Privet Drive No. Four and his relatives.

"You wish to leave? Of course if you do not want to stay among us, we will not force you. But I would rather see you stay here since the world can be a dangerous place for someone as young as you to wander alone. In fact I had hoped to foster you myself. My own children, Arwen and the twins Elladan and Elrohir are grown, and I would like to raise a child again. You would make a fine son, young Harry."

Harry stared incredulous at Elrond, the elf actually wanted him to be his son? Harry had always known that the Dursleys didn't want him. They had always told him that he was a burden and a freak and that no one would ever love him or want him. No one at Privet Drive had ever shown interest in him either, so the thought of someone actually wanting him was completely foreign. Then he thought of the strange things, that always happened around him. Elrond might not mind his own magic, but surely he would not want to cope with Harry's strangeness.

"I, you want me to be your s...son? Really? But, no, you don't understand, you wouldn't want someone like me. Sometimes things happen, even if I don't mean them to, strange things, and I... I think it's magic"

The last word was barely louder than a whisper, and only due to their elven hearing did Arwen and Elrond catch the word. Elrond frowned, surely the boy did not think they would forsake him merely because he was an Istar (wizard), though he was young to show signs of magic already. Yet another thing he would have to ask Galadriel about. Obviously whatever had happened to the child in his previous home had made him leery of magic. Whoever had taken care of him had probably not been too fond of it and had, by the looks of it, punished him for his 'strangeness'.

Elrond quickly reassured Harry that he did not mind him being an Istar, and that he did indeed want to foster him. After having convinced Harry of his words, a process that took almost half an hour, Elrond sat down on the bed and started to tell his new son about Imladris while stroking the boy's hair.

Harry was still a bit unsure about his situation, but he had to admit that this was the best day he had ever had. Arwen was sitting in a chair by his bed, and Elrond, or rather his father? Foster father? No Adar, he would call the man Adar, sat on his bed and told him stories about the city of the elves. For the first time since he could remember Harry felt safe and cared for. The way his two companions looked at him, left no doubt in his mind that they did care, and it was a wonderful feeling.

Harry raised his hand to cover a yawn, when he noticed that the scar that usually covered the back of his right hand, from the time he had spilled boiling water over it while cooking for his relative, was gone. In fact there was no trace of it at all. He pushed up his sleeves and looked at his arm which had also lost any trace of a scar. Elrond looked down at Harry and hid a smile at his new son's confused look. Then he told him that he had removed all of his scars, but the one on his forehead. When he told Harry that this was done so he would be able to move on and not always be reminded of his past, the child hugged him tightly as if afraid that he would leave, and started sobbing. Harry cried himself to sleep that night, and while he had done that many nights this was the first time someone was holding, rubbing his back and comforting him. It was also the first time he didn't cry because he was in pain, or felt hopeless and helpless. This time he cried because he needed to get it out. This time it was a healing experience. And best of all, it was a bonding experience between himself and his new Adar.

The last thought Harry had before he succumbed to sleep, was that he would like this new place, and his new family.