Warning: lots of swearing in this chapter. Well, in this fic really, but especially in this chapter. Please feel free to be offended by this on your own time and not in the review section, thank you.

A/N: in case it's not super clear already, my Harry is a sarcastic, careless little shit with lots of emotions! and uncomfortable things he's ignoring, and he's altogether super-not-like-cannon. I like my characters hurting but totally unaware of the fact they're hurting at all, and I'll try to make this realistic and not to over done; but please be prepared for a Harry who probably won't act in any way how you expect him to.

The switch in pronouns is on purpose, in case that's confusing for anyone.

Geh, the more I edit for posting, the more I remember why I wasn't going to post this in the first place. Ugh. Happy 2017.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but a nasty cough.

Chapter 3

An awkward silence lasted for a too-long moment.

Harry stayed frozen, not daring to move, as both creatures glared at him fiercely.

He prayed they wouldn't get violent; he really hadn't been thinking, and the spell was obviously harmless, so maybe they'd just let this pass? The last thing he needed right now was a full-blown battle on an empty stomach.

Harry couldn't fight a flinch when one of them finally spoke.

"You are Istari?" it demanded.

"An Is-um, no, I don't think so?" Harry said unsteadily. A what now?

"You are Istari," it repeated firmly. "We would know your purpose for being in this place. Are you a spy, a servant of Melkor? If so, know that you will not be allowed to run rampant upon this peaceful plane. Come quietly, or we will take you by force."

They were both looking very tense, and quite dangerous.

This is bad.

At a loss, Harry gave them the blankest look he could manage, and said:

"Yeah, no, m'not anyone's servant, never mind this-this 'Mel-cor' person, a'right? I'm just a wee bit lost, so sorry if I surprised you or whatever earlier, but I swear I'm not gonna go – wreak havoc, or whatever."

Good heavens, what was happening to his vocabulary? He was starting to sound like a pre-pubescent Malfoy, only thankfully much less annoying.

Neither of the two creatures looked convinced, sadly. Harry threw both arms up in the air in frustration.

"Fine, don' believe me then," his mouth said petulantly, his foot rising and falling in a stomp (what?). "Call me a spy or whatnot, see if I care. Only thing I want right now's a good quart of water and some food, okay? Once I find that, I'll work on being a bit less lost and finding my way home, and then I'll be out of your wonderfully feminine hair."

...Wait a minute, that was-why did I say that?

Harry froze again, resisting the urge to slap a hand over his mouth. Surprisingly, neither of the two creatures reacted explosively. If anything they seemed to relax a bit, and the one by the horses actually lowered its bow and settled back with an amused look.

"Lost, are you?" the one in front of him mused. "I sense there is a very interesting story behind this. In any case, you shall be returning with us. Our Father will be very curious to hear how you happened upon this place, deep in the heart of Imladris and so far from any human settlements."

Oh, so definitely not muggles then, Harry thought, relieved, only to back up in alarm when the creature stood fluidly and reached out a hand.

"Come," it commanded. "We will take you back to our Lord and Father; he will judge whether or not you speak the truth. For your sake, I hope it is the truth."

The dryad was very tall, and very intimidating; even had Harry been at his usual height, he would have been dwarfed by the sheer overwhelming presence of these creatures.

"Uh, yeah, or not," Harry said cautiously, because, that was not happening.

He needed to get out of here before things got any worse. He began to cautiously move back, fingers going back to his wand.

"No look, see," he tried, when the dryad started to slowly follow his fumbling steps backwards, "I've got places to see and people to do, yeah, m'can't be just going off with any random strangers. So how about I just promise not to do anything stupid, and you lot let me pass, eh?"

This didn't get a reaction, other than a condescending raised eyebrow.

(Harry was beginning to hate that eyebrow)

He managed maybe five more steps in the direction of freedom before the world unexpectedly flipped on its axis.

Harry felt the breath go out of him, and found himself staring at an exquisitely crafted sword belt. His legs were pulled tight against the creature's shoulder, and he couldn't move an inch.

"Wha-oi! Hey, let me go!" he shouted indignantly. The blood was shifting to his head, and it wasn't helping him feel better about any of this.

The creature ignored him. It instead spoke to its companion in that musical language he'd first greeted Harry with. Harry grimaced; he'd forgotten about the other language. The translation spell only worked once on any given person, which meant he wouldn't be learning that language any time soon.

Language aside, however – this bloody POSITION.

How mortifying. He was not putting up with this rubbish.

As the creature hefted him a little higher and turned to walk, Harry clenched his jaw and tried to reach for his wand. His attempts to lift his upper body were sadly unsuccessful; he was clumsy in this body – this small, weak body – he was tired (and still hungover, bloody hell), and the creature was holding him very tightly.

That failed, Harry tried summoning his wand instead: "Accio wand!"

He felt it wriggling in his back pocket, but before he could feel too elated, the movement abruptly ceased as his wand was snatched away.

Twisting angrily and thumping at the back in front of his face, Harry began, "Oi, you twat, you give that back-" but ended in a squeal as he gained only a sharp smack to his squirming backside for his trouble.

"None of that now," the creature chided gently. "Cease your wiggling, child, you will injure yourself."

(Okay, no. He was going to be firm and adult about this. There would be no kidnapping, and there would definitely be no-)

"The fuck – how could – se-SEXUAL HARASSMENT!" Harry shrieked at the top of his lungs. He then proceeded to keep shrieking, to the tune of every possible insult he could think of.

Oh wait, no, that's not going to help anything, why can't I seem to shut up-

"'Dan, you had best ride with him," the creature holding Harry said grimly, "I fear I will be tempted to thrash him if this dreadful caterwauling continues."

"Goodness, 'Roh, you should be well accustomed to such a thing by now! Eru knows our baby brother was never one to sit idly by when forced to do something against his will," 'Dan' teased. Harry, still shrieking, thought, identifies as male? Same 'father', so possibility of relation?, and mentally jotted that down.

(Contrary to how it appeared, he wasn't actually freaking out or anything; he was perfectly in control of his wits. He was just playing it up so they'd let their guard down and underestimate him. Yeah.)

"Well, Estel certainly knew better than to carry on so," 'Roh' grumbled. Harry felt himself hoisted off the creature's shoulder and dropped unceremoniously onto a horse, who whinnied at the unexpected weight.

For Harry, whose experience with riding began and ended with Buckbeak, found himself shocked and profoundly horrified by this change. He threw out an arm and grabbed fiercely onto his tormentor's tunic.

"-and you can go eat a GIGANTIC BAG OF DICKS, alright, a GIGANTIC BAG OF-wait, what, no no no let me off!"

(A part of Harry, deep in the back of his mind, was perplexed; where was this crap coming from? Why did he keep feeling these swelling waves of aggression and irritation, plus the sudden inability to control his verbal diarrhoea?)

The creature – Roh – looked at him askance. "From the way you are behaving, one would think you had never ridden a horse before. Do cease carrying on so, Suldal will not let you fall."

"Well gee, what a shock, maybe it's because I've never ridden a horse before." Harry clung even tighter and wished desperately for his wand, his broom, anything. This was all wrong; this was not, this wasn't the 'people' he'd been looking for, the help he'd been looking for, curse that damn spell.

Harry wanted out, right now.

"Never ridden before?" the other one – Dan – asked doubtfully. "I am starting to believe him, Elrohir. His young age aside, I cannot picture one who is so terrible at lying and controlling his emotions being of any use as a spy. On top of that, he does not seem to be quite right in the head. Do you understand what he keeps shouting about?"

"Not right in the – now look here!" Harry shouted.

Fuck this, seriously just, fuck this.

"I have had a terrible day. I've had the bloody hangover from hell for hours, I got tossed in the middle of the forest without a bleeding 'by your leave', I'm starving, I'm completely tuckered out, and on top of all that, you freaking princesses came along.

"I did NOT ask to be mistaken for a spy, I did NOT do anything to deserve being mistaken as one, and for fuck's bloody sake, I DID NOT ASK YOU to fucking manhandle me! If you lot don't get me off this damn animal and piss off within the next few seconds, I will FUCK A BITCH, see if I don't!"

Harry panted, a bit shocked at himself. He hadn't – that wasn't – okay, something was really off; he hadn't been this out of control since his fifteenth year, the Year of Perpetual Rage. Getting over his anger-management issues took all of his sixteenth year and quite a bit of his seventeenth. Harry refused to believe that all that work could be tossed out for no apparent reason.

Something was wrong, and he needed to figure out what it was before he went and said something that'd get him killed.

"Oh, dear," Dan said. Laughing, the creature walked over and gently patted the hand clinging to his brother's shirt. "This one is going to be fun, I can sense it already. Come, Muinthel, let us take him home. Father must meet this one."

...Laughter? (And there's that rage again, what the fuck)

Infuriated beyond belief, Harry made to swing a fist, but his hand was caught firmly within seconds, even as a lithe body jumped behind him and wrapped a hand around his waist. Harry flipped his head to gape behind him at Dan, who gave him a cheerful smile and grabbed the reins.

Roh let go of the fist that he'd caught with apparently no effort, and followed his brother in jumping onto his own horse.

"Indeed," Roh commented with another raised eyebrow. "I do wonder what Father will make of this."

Harry wasted a good hour trying to break the hold around his waist. It was like trying to cut steel with a plastic butter knife.

All the while, the brothers kept the horses riding at an unpleasant gallop, somehow managing to keep up a pleasant conversation in their lyrical language at the same time.

It was infuriating, and made Harry try to escape all the harder.

Eventually, however, the frightful speed of the horses and the general futility of his actions got to Harry, and panting, he let himself collapse against the firm chest behind him.

"All tired out now, little Istari?" Dan asked kindly. "I should hope so. You fought quite hard there for a bit! I was quite afraid you would toss yourself off the horse."

Liar.

"Liar," Harry griped, "you didn't budge one bit. What're you made of, freaking iron or something?"

A musical laugh split the air.

Harry waited for that uncharacteristic rage to well up again, and was a bit surprised, if grateful, when it didn't. One less thing to worry about. He allowed himself to relax, letting the sound wash over him peacefully.

Relaxing reminded him of the questions bouncing about in his head. He was quite curious, about a lot of things: what these two were doing so far out from their home in the woods; what an Istari was; who this 'father' was that they were apparently taking him to; and most importantly, whether he should be afraid for his life.

Strangely, the last part didn't actually concern him much. While not the best judge of character, Harry's instincts had been honed very sharply over the years. If his body and his magic thought these creatures to be a threat, they wouldn't have been able to come within five feet of him. If anything, the fact that they still had his wand but his magic hadn't freaked out and tried to kill them yet said a lot.

Oh, Mad-eye would read him the riot-act when he got back, that was for sure; but to be honest, Harry really couldn't be bothered. Staying tense and wary took up a lot of energy, which this small body didn't have a lot of. And now that he'd worked off all his anger, he was starting to forget why he needed to be wary in the first place.

So Harry pushed those concerns aside, and concentrated on other things.

"Is it... I mean, what's an Istari, anyway?" he asked. They'd called him that after seeing his magic, so could it be...?

"An Istari, young one, is a wielder of magic, known as a 'wizard' in the common tongue. I am unaware of what magicks you are capable of, but a wizard of your age and color are unknown to us; forgive us if we came off as hostile. In this age, it is best to be cautious," Dan said apologetically. "I personally do not think you to be evil, or mean us ill. It is, however, our duty to ensure the safety of this land, and it behooves us to bring you in for interrogation. Worry not: our Father is fair, and will judge you accordingly."

Harry couldn't help a shudder at the word 'interrogation'. That sounded... a bit not good.

"Are you cold?" Dan asked. "You may use my cloak, if you wish."

"Ah, no, I'm fine thanks," Harry said, waving off the concern. Asking about their 'father' could wait, actually; he suddenly didn't feel in the mood to know at all.

He'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

Instead, he said: "Um, so, I have to ask – how exactly can you lot be so far out of the woods? I mean, from what I've learned (correct me if I'm wrong), dryads-ah, tree nymphs-can't be separated from their home-trees for more than an hour at most, and even then there's a limit to how far they can go?"

Harry got no reply. Confused, he looked behind him to see Dan looking completely nonplussed.

"Um...?" Harry began, only to jerk back as Dan abruptly pulled tight on the reins, bringing the horse to a stop. He could see Roh doing the same beside him, and in the next second, both brothers were laughing.

Hysterically laughing.

It was rather infectious, and Harry felt his own lips twitch into a smile. He had no idea what they were going on about, but he figured an explanation could wait. It was definitely interesting to see these two stately, otherworldly creatures folded in on themselves with laughter.

"Oh little Istari, you are a wonder," Roh said between bursts of laughter.

"Er, thanks?" Harry said. As he watched, Roh slid off his horse to collapse on the ground, actually rolling around as he laughed and laughed.

"Not that this isn't great or anything," Harry interrupted, "but could someone explain the joke?"

"Child, we are not tree nymphs," Dan gasped in answer. "We are most assuredly not tree nymphs."

"Oh," Harry said, still confused. Not dryads? "What are you, then?"

"We are elves, child, elves," Roh exclaimed. "My brother and I are of the elves of Imladris, the Last Homely House. I am not entirely certain what a tree nymph is, but whatever they happen to be, we are most assuredly not that."

Oookay. Elves. Right.

Harry's mind supplied him the image of a house-elf, which he quickly brushed aside. No, that was completely wrong. Whatever they meant by elves, it must mean something very different to them.

This changed things a bit. If they weren't dryads and were closer to something human, then maybe Harry was actually justified in feeling they didn't mean him harm.

One last question. "So just to be on the safe side, I have to ask: you're not asexual, then? Are you like, I dunno, actually male – or female – with the right... bits, and stuff? 'cause nymphs don't have any, and no offense, but I've kinda been calling you guys 'he' in my head…" he trailed off lamely.

Both of the 'elves' looked absolutely horrified, which told Harry everything he needed to know.

"Right then," he said weakly. "Not asexual, got it. Male, then?"

"Oh yes," Roh said faintly, "very male, my little Istari."

"Okay, great, glad we cleared that up," Harry said quickly, and tried a bright smile. "So, is this a good time to ask for my wand back?"

"No, it is most definitely not," came the reply.

"Right," Harry sulked. He turned back to face the front of the horse, and said, "Well, I'd at least like some water, if my wand's not an option. I'm right parched."

A lyrical chuckle, then a water skin was handed to him. Harry, after a curious look at it, drowned as much water as he could stomach.

Much better, Harry thought, feeling his mood rise exponentially. Even the thought of the awful ride ahead did little to dampen his sudden good feelings.

(The way his feelings were flipping back and forth so rapidly was a bit concerning, so Harry added another mental note and tucked it away for further contemplation)

"Shall we go then?" he asked cheerfully, passing the water skin to Dan's out-stretched hand. "I'd rather get this over with, if you don't mind."

"Indeed, let us do so," Roh said. He flipped to his feet in one smooth motion that left Harry feeling very envious, and soon they were on their way again.

Elves, Harry thought as they took off. Kreacher, where in the world did you send me?

A/N: are you wondering about the weird nicknames? I am too, surprise. I totally stole them from some fic somewhere, and when I remember whose fic it was, I will credit them properly. Don't worry, Harry will eventually remember to introduce himself and get their proper names.

Translations:

Muinthel - Sindarin: (dear) brother.

Suldal - Sindarin: Wind Foot

I'm about 95% sure that's accurate.