THIS CHAPTER HAS BEEN EDITED

A Whole New World EDITED

The town of Hobbiton was small and quaint. Its inhabitants consisted of a race called Hobbits, or Halflings. Small people with rather big feet. A regular hobbit never did anything unexpected and stayed clear of anything even considered slightly abnormal. That's just who they were. But of course within every circle there are bound to be someone who's different…

Frodo Baggins was having a rather nice week. His day often consisted of getting up, eating some breakfast, and spending some time outside where the weather was absolutely wonderful. In the evenings he'd converse with Sam Gamgee and then he'd possibly join his cousins in one of their half-baked endeavors. But as that wonderful week ended he found something—or rather, someone during one of his walks.

His discovery left him completely shocked.

Lying right under a tree lay a young elf. Frodo had run up to the fallen young one and set to see what was wrong with the young beauty. At first glance, Frodo thought it might have been a girl but as he turned the marvelous creature over, he found it to be a boy.

And it was quite obvious; Frodo blushed, seeing as the young elf had not a particle of clothing on. But seeing as the elf was still a bit too big for just him to carry, Frodo enlisted the help of Sam who, by far was even more shocked than Frodo.

With their combined strength they managed to bring the elf back to Frodo's home, (Surprisingly no one bothered them; this was a grand feat seeing as hobbits tended to be rather nosy…) Bag End, and quickly set him to bed and of course, tried to cover him up as best as possible seeing as all their clothes were too small. And it wasn't until Frodo's uncle, Bilbo Baggins lay eyes on the boy did they resolve the problem.

It turns out by some mere strand of good luck, Bilbo had some Elven clothes given to him while on his quest. Pure laziness strayed Bilbo from throwing them out but it paid off in the end seeing as the clothes fit the Elven boy almost perfectly.

It took a whole day to accommodate the elf but when Frodo finally got to rest he took the time to look over his unconscious charge.

The boy's hair was messy but silky to the touch. It went up to the boy's shoulders giving him bangs. His complexion was soft—peach, Frodo wanted to say and nearly flawless except for one small lightning shaped scar on the boy's forehead. Frodo had yet too look into the boy's eyes yet, seeing as he hadn't opened them at all, but seeing as he was an elf, Frodo wouldn't be surprised if they were blue.

"Frodo my boy, what ever are you doing?" Frodo looked up and smiled at his uncle. The older hobbit smiled back and took a seat near the foot of the two combined beds. (They had to put both beds together seeing as the elf boy couldn't just fit in one.)

"Just looking I suppose." Frodo mused and moved some of the boy's hair away from his eyes. Bilbo eyed his movements. "Do you think he's really an elf?"

Bilbo sighed. "Look at his ears, my boy. Clearly he's a very young elf. Probably just out of elflinghood and if that's the case…" the hobbit began to mumble and Frodo had to strain his ears to hear. "He looks a little bit older than an elfling but I've never seen one up so close…" Bilbo murmured unsure, his eyes sweeping the prone form.

"What? I didn't catch that…" the older hobbit nodded absentmindedly before eyeing the unconscious elf one more time then turning over to Frodo who was slightly confused ere a bit frustrated.

"You see, dear Frodo, Elves treasure their young very much. Elflings are worth more than any gold or diamond to them. It's because of their inability to conceive many elfings at a time; you'd be lucky to see an elfling maybe once in a thousand years!"

Frodo nodded slowly then frowned. "But if that's true why then was he left here so many miles away from any Elven city?"

"That's the problem there lad! They must not know he's gone! If they find out one of their young has landed here we'd be in trouble! I'm not sure about you, my nephew, but dying at the hands of an elf is not on top of my priorities list. Rather it's way down there, just before being eaten by a dragon…" Frodo laughed.

"But uncle! We can't just leave him to fend for himself—"

"He's an elf! They're practically born with a bow on their backs and a dagger in their hands—"

"…not before we find out what really happened to him. All in all, he's just a boy. Please uncle…?" Frodo looked to the older hobbit who was now groaning and rubbing his temples.

"Fine…you can take care of him until he's well enough to be kicked out. Be aware though, Gandalf will be here soon for the party and you know how nosy that old bat is." Bilbo chuckled. "Albeit the scene would be quite amusing…" with those last words of wisdom the older hobbit walked out of the room still chuckling.

Frodo smiled as he turned back to the young elf. Then frowned as he saw the youth had started to shift and groan. Then Frodo nearly jumped back as the young elf began to talk in his sleep. "No water!" and "Not fair." Were the phrases he frequently babbled.

So Frodo stayed and looked after the boy. Part of him though, stayed because he was simply amused and curious. Some of the things the elf spewed made no sense at all. He once muttered something about a "wand." And it wasn't until he did, that Frodo looked to the boy's hand and saw he was clutching something. It was a rather long and shiny, smooth stick. The elf had it at an angle where it was almost hidden by his arm. He held the top part of the stick in his fist and maneuvered it so that it was parallel to his arm. Thinking this may have been uncomfortable; he tried to take it away from him only to find that the boy's rather fragile physique was just an outward appearance.

As he had an iron grip on it.

Sighing and leaning back in his chair the hobbit set to just admire the youth and he blinked when the boy started to groan. Leaning forward he was startled when the elf opened his eyes.

They were a dazzling shade of emerald green.

--

Harry could only stare into the amused eyes of the person peering down at him. Shifting his gaze he took a rather quick look around to asses his situation before wincing. At least his wand was still with him seeing as it was currently stabbed into his hand. Moving his sore wrist he repositioned his wand, ready to attack when he become aware of the person looking at him.

Hadn't that crazy angel-wannabe said something about helping a little person…?

The boy—er, man in front of him was short. His hair was rather curly and black and he had piercing blue eyes, sorta reminded him of Ron's—

"Are you okay…?" the stranger asked and Harry was surprised when it came out gentle and soothing. Looking down he noticed he was dressed and gave a sigh of relief.

"Um, yes. I'm fine. Could you possibly tell me where I am? …And who you are…?" he added quietly at the end.

The blue-eyed stranger blinked.

"You're in Hobbiton."

Harry gave no sign of recognition.

"Bywater is East of here." he tried.

Harry didn't even pretend to understand.

"Middle-Earth." he joked.

"Is that what the whole world is called?" Harry tried to ask as nonchantly as he could. The thought of being in a whole new world hadn't sunk in yet apparently.

Frodo merely looked at him like he was insane. "I take it you're still a bit out of sorts seeing as you probably hit your head. My name is Frodo Baggins and we're in my home, Bag End which is in Hobbiton."

Harry mentally screamed.

"Oh…" what else had Tristan said? "Um…do you want my name?" he panicked.

Oh Damnit! Of course he'd want his name!

Frodo smiled. "That would be nice unless you wouldn't mind going by 'Elf' during your stay here."

"It's—"

THE BLOODY HELL!

"Elf!?" he yelped and before he could actually process anything else he jumped out of the bed, nearly ran Frodo over, ran into the hall where he almost caused the death of another little man before finally finding what he was looking for.

As he gazed into the mirror he couldn't help but close his eyes shut. Then deciding this was probably a childish thing to do he opened them only to initiate a panic attack.

What the hell had Tristan done to him!?

His messy hair now had a shiny look and silky feel. He ran his hands all through his face and hair slightly pulling at parts and rubbing others. And it wasn't until he felt his ears did he let out a scream.

They were pointy!

He went back to assessing his face over and over and running his hands through his hair time and time and again before leaning his forehead against the cool glass. Now that he was at the end of his investigation he could only come up with two conclusions.

Number One: He looked like a freaking girl now. (Albeit pretty but still—GRR!)

Number Two: Tristan was going to die a most painful death via Harry Potter himself.

"Um…what's wrong…?" Harry slowly turned to look at Frodo who was blocking the other small man from earlier whom now had in his possession an umbrella and was swinging it threateningly in his direction.

Harry gave the mirror one last glance. "Everything."

With that Harry Potter's eyes rolled to the back of his head.

And the Savior of the Wizarding World had collapsed in a dead faint all because of a mirror; a feat even Voldemort hadn't managed to do.

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