Large PrintHandheldAudioRating
Twisting The Hellmouth Crossing Over Awards - Results
Rules for Challenges

Of Wizards and Elves

StoryReviewsStatisticsRelated StoriesTracking

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?

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Harry Potter > Non-BtVS/AtS Stories > Crossover: Lord of the Rings(Past Donor)tamiamusFR18413,03327114,02116 Dec 0619 Dec 06No

Chapter One

Author: Tamiamus

Beta: Tals

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.

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


Pain, that was all he could feel. Even the darkness of the cupboard was unable to distract him, though he had always hated it. The feeling of being trapped was one the little boy was very well acquainted with, since he had spent a great deal of his life locked up in the small space under the stairs. But even though he was used to it, he still hated the darkness, the loneliness and the smallness of his 'room'. This day however even the much loathed cupboard was not enough to penetrate through his haze of agony.

The boy laying on an old, thin mattress looked no older than four, though in reality he had just turned six. His green eyes were glazed with pain and his body was frightfully thin, he was in fact so thin that you could easily count everyone of his ribs. He wore old clothing easily five sizes too big for him and the clothes were not only dirty but also drenched with the blood that steadily left his body from the gashes his uncle's belt had left all over his back. The boy's left ankle was swollen in a way that left no doubt that it was in fact broken, as well as some of his ribs and his right arm. A bloody wound on his shoulder, caused by a kitchen knife also contributed to his weakened state.

The small boy in the cupboard shuddered as he heard his uncle descend the stair, hoping that he would not decide to punish him further for not doing his chores.
After a few minutes of tense waiting Harry let out a sigh of relief; it seemed that his uncle would keep him locked in the cupboard without food and water as punishment for being 'freakish' instead of hauling him out by his hair and beating him again.

Harry wasn't even sure he could stand, much less take another beating without fainting, and he knew how angry uncle Vernon would get whenever he fainted. His uncle would say that he did it on purpose just to escape his rightful punishment and then he would start over again. Harry tried to move into a more comfortable position and winced when he left foot came into contact with the wall. He couldn't understand why his family hated him so much, all he ever wanted was to be loved, just like his aunt Petunia and his uncle Vernon loved their son Dudley. They never beat him, no matter what he did, and he never had any chores and he always got enough to eat, in fact he ate so much that even though he, like Harry, was only six years old, aunt Petunia had to buy his clothes in the twelve year old section of the store.

When Harry had asked why they didn't treat him like they did Dudley, Petunia had smacked him over the head with her frying pan and screeched that he was not their son, but a burden left to them when his freaky parents had gotten themselves killed, and that no one could possibly love someone as abnormal as him. She had then told him that not even his own parents had loved him, since they had after all left him by dying.

At the time Harry hadn't understood the word 'abnormal' since he had only been three years old, but he had learned that he was not their son and that they could never love him. This revelation had been very hard for Harry and he had cried himself to sleep for almost a month, wishing that he had parents who loved him and would take him away from the Dursley's.

Now, three years later he had long since given up on being rescued from the Dursley's. He had learned, in the past years, that he had no way of escaping his family, no one to help him. This lesson was a hard one, as the one time he had actually tried to get help, by telling a kinder garden teacher about his home life, she had not only refused to believe him, but had told his aunt and uncle about his accusations. The very next day he was removed from the kinder garden and punished severely for his 'lies' and for trying to badmouth the Dursley's. He still had the scars from that awful night, in which he had gained three broken ribs, a concussion and bloody gashes on his back.

As Harry stared into the dark and heard his family laugh and talk at the dinner table, he felt everyone of his wounds and broken bones throbbing with pain. While he was familiar with it, the dizziness and the strange fuzziness of his vision alarmed him. He felt the way his life slowly drained away as his blood continuously seeped from his wounds. His limbs had lost all feeling and while this helped alleviate the pain, it still scared him. A shiver ran up his spine as he felt his body slowly cooling down and he shortly contemplated crying out for help; surely his family would help him if he was dying.

Just as he had decided to call out he heard them move out of the kitchen and go up the stairs to their bedrooms. He tried to yell for them, but all he managed was a tired squeak that could not penetrate the cupboard and was not heard by any of them. Fear descended on him then; he was dying, a little more for each heartbeat that brought fresh blood seeping from his many wounds, and he was scared, more frightened than he had ever been before. He didn't want to die, he knew that his life was far from perfect, in fact it was more often than not agonizing and filled with disappointment, fear, sadness and hopelessness, but it was still life.

Harry tried to get up to bang on the cupboard door, but he could not even raise his head. A new wave of dizziness assaulted him and he could feel by the way his heartbeat had slowed down that it would soon stop altogether.

Another thought came to him then, if he had to die, and by the way things looked right now, it seemed impossible for him to survive the night, and even if he did, there was no guarantee that his family would check on him come morning, he didn't want to die in his cupboard. Not here where he had spent so much time, being locked in for days at a time without food nor water, where he had been thrown in after a beating, where the walls and floor was stained with his old blood. No, if he had to die he wanted to be somewhere beautiful, somewhere peaceful, somewhere untainted by his memories and the cruelty of his family.

As he lay gasping for breath that was increasingly difficult to catch, he wished with all his might to be somewhere else; any where but here. If survival was too much to ask for then at least let him die somewhere beautiful.

Harry closed his eyes tiredly when he felt something strange, suddenly his body tingled all over and a strange pressure was building inside of him. He tried to catch his breath but found it impossible. The pressure built and he felt like his very life was being squeezed out of him. He kept his eyes closed as a pained scream worked its way out of his throat. The thought that uncle Vernon would be angry for him waking his family briefly crossed his mind before his whole world became ice cold and blazing hot at the same time as it turned blindingly white and suffocatingly black.

When Harry regained his senses the first thing that came back to him was the sharp and throbbing pain no longer masked by the numb sensation of his limbs. Then he felt the ground underneath him, it didn't feel like his old mattress but like leaves on the ground. A gentle wind blew his hair from his face and he heard birds chirping happily somewhere close by.

He opened his eyes cautiously and stared in wonder at the scenery around him, he was in a beautiful wood, with autumn leaves scattered on the ground and sunlight flooding down from a cloudless blue sky. His first thought was that he most be in heaven, even though Petunia insisted that he would go to hell because of his freakishness. But then why would he be in pain if this was really heaven? Surely pain had no place in heaven.

'Maybe... I did wish to be somewhere else... Maybe my wish came true?' He thought as he looked around as much as he could without moving too much. He sighed contentedly and a small smile appeared on his face despite the pain he was in; this place was truly beautiful and he thought it was a nice place to die in.

He briefly wondered what the Dursley's would think when they opened the cupboard in the morning, or maybe the day after and found him gone. They would probably be glad that they didn't have to pay for his funeral, or answer any questions about his demise. Of course the would probably not have paid for a funeral even if they had found him dead in the cupboard; they would probably have buried him in the garden in the dead of night, claiming that he had run away.

Harry didn't know how long he had been in the forest, just looking at the trees above him and listening to the birds chirping, when he heard voices coming from the north “En, Khila amin” “Mani naa ta?” Soon Harry heard hurried footsteps coming his way, and closed his eyes, he didn't want anyone around to find him, in his experience people usually led to pain and all he wanted was to die in peace.

When he opened his eyes again there where three men standing over him, all of them looking shocked and worried. Two of them were obviously twins, they looked like mirror images of each other. Both had long straight, black hair, cascading down to the middle of their backs, something his aunt would have frowned upon, the third man also had long hair, but his was almost golden in color. They all spoke at once, sounding agitated and Harry almost closed his eyes again, when he noticed their ears. They were pointy, like he imagined an elf's ears to be, but that couldn't be, elves didn't exist.

He watched them tiredly as they spoke in a language he couldn't understand, then one of the men, or elves? left running quickly into the woods while the two others, the golden haired one and one of the twins, bent down to him. He flinched in fear and tried to move away from them, but was unable to do so as another wave of dizziness came over him. The golden haired one said something to him in that funny sounding language, a question by the sound of his voice, and reached for his uninjured shoulder. Harry tried to focus his vision that had suddenly gone fuzzy around the edges, while his body felt like it was floating away from him. The last thing he heard before the darkness enveloped him, was one of the elves talking to him in that strange language, sounding alarmed.
Next Chapter
StoryReviewsStatisticsRelated StoriesTracking