Don't ask where this fic came from, I don't know. But I started writing it years ago!

I don't own Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings

Not many students were awake at 6 Am on a chilly Saturday morning, and Harry wished he could count himself among them- nothing would please him more than to go back to bed. But as it stood, he had no time to spare on sleep. He was already late in meeting Hermione in the library, fancy that. Only Hermione would order, er ask him to study at 5:30 in the morning on a weekend! Thus being in a hurry he never saw the object on the corridor floor in the dim morning light. He just barely kept from breaking his neck as something rolled beneath his left foot sending him flailing backwards. Startled and very much awake after such an unexpected fall Harry searched for the culprit. It was a wand. It was made of a dark wood with what appeared to be small knots in the wood that stood out like a strange decoration.

Harry blinked as he leaned down to pick up the wand in the hallway. Instantly he felt a great warmth beneath his fingers as though he were greeting an old dear friend. Which was an odd sensation, for Harry Potter did not have any 'old' dear friends- at least none that had been separated from him by the space of years. In fact Harry could count his number of true friends on a single hand! As far as he was concerned he had only a single school friend, a young witch named Hermione Granger.

The one he had believed to be his best mate, Ronald Weasley, had unfortunately proven himself to be a betrayer of friendship. For Ron had abandoned him in his hour of need when he had been forced to compete in the Triwizard Tournament earlier this year.

It was only days ago after Harry had only just survived the Hungarian Horntail by the skin of his teeth and no small amount of luck that Ron had conveniently decided they were friends once more. Though Harry had taken Ron back it should be noted that the freckled boy would never again know the closeness they had once had- for the Potter did not forget betrayal lightly.

And so he thought he had no business feeling in this manner. Shaking his head he searched for the owner and he saw a bright purple robe with neon flamingos enchanted upon it. Professor Dumbledore was the only person in this hall and so there was the chance it was his. If not the Headmaster was sure to know of a way to reunite the wand and its owner.

"Erm…Excuse me Professor."

The man turned his attention from the portrait of a warty witch who was currently picking her nose with great zeal and smearing her boogers on the edge of the frame.

"Good morning Harry." he greeted kindly and Harry replied in kind, though it was not really much of a 'good' morning after slipping and nearly breaking ones neck.

"Is this your wand Sir?" Harry showed his headmaster the wand he'd found in the hall.

A look of astonishment crossed the old wizards face as he patted down his robes only to discover, indeed, his wand was missing. "It seems my boy, you are correct. Now if you will?" He held open his palm and Harry quickly deposited it. He missed the incredulous look upon his headmasters face as he gave up the wand so easily.

Harry Potter was a remarkable child in Albus' eyes. The boy had resisted the temptation of gold and immortality from the Philosopher's Stone and just now had shown no temptation for keeping the most powerful wand in all of existence. Though he doubted the boy even knew of the Elder Wand- the temptation would have been the same. For the wand was always attempting to cause chaos and to ensnare new owners.

Turning back to the amusing painting Albus heard young Harry scamper off utterly unaware that the Elder wand had indeed worked its chaos.

Harry groaned as he held his head in his palms, his head hurt from information overload. He'd been spending the entire Saturday devoted to solving the egg. No luck and as it were, Hermione was furiously researching in the library. Harry had been there too, pouring and peering over tome after tome and before he knew it they'd managed to miss not only lunch, but dinner as well!

He didn't mind learning new spells- Episky would be dead useful he was sure! But overload was no good- he'd remember very little if he crammed.

Hermione had begged to stay a bit longer but Harry could not ignore the fact that his body keenly wanted something to eat. So he'd made her promise to come down to the kitchens before curfew so that she wouldn't go hungry.

With a tickle of the pear on the portrait Harry found himself in the school kitchens where the house elves were bustling around most excitedly. Harry made his way over to a squashy armchair and a familiar face was soon at his elbow.

"Hullo Dobby, how are you?" He asked as he settled into the chair, content in the comfort- why did the library have only hard wooden chairs? You'd think that a place where students had to spend long periods of time would at least have comfy chairs. Harry had lost count of the times he'd had to cast cushioning charms on the ancient chair he'd effectively remained on all day. He was now so proficient with the spell he didn't need to say it out loud!

After a moments consideration he decided it was probably a way to keep students like Hermione and some of the more zealous Ravenclaws from simply living there. It made a staggering amount of sense.

"Dobby is always glad to be seeing his friend!" The house elf greeted as he handed the boy a sandwich. Dobby made the very best sandwiches

"See! Dobby has spent money on new socks!" And indeed he had, a pair of deep maroon fuzzy socks now adorned the house elves feet. They were normal sized socks and had to be tied with twine to be kept on the bony house elf's feet.

Harry reached out to touch them and Dobby let him, clearly eager to share in what he thought was a very wise investment indeed. They were as soft as they looked and even softer somehow. Perhaps Harry would buy a pair for cold winter nights and so he made sure to note where the elf had gotten them.

It was as Harry was enjoying a nice cup of tea, cream with one sugar, and listening to Dobby that something strange happened. It was as though the world had simply shifted and decided to not take him along when it shifted. An impossible thing to describe let alone comprehend, yet there it was. A jarring, indescribable sensation overcame him as he stared down into his tea numbly and dimly saw Dobby frantically shaking his knee. But he couldn't feel the small hand or hear the sounds he knew were likely coming from the house-elf. The kitchens were growing darker now but he could see a bright blinding light in the periphery of his right side. And with that Harry knew no more.

!~!~!~!~!

Dobby could only blink his large watering eyes as he stared around in confusion. He had most certainly not been in the middle of a forest a moment ago, no, he had been with his Master Harry Potter at Hogwarts when the boy had snuck down to the kitchens to visit him and Winkey. The tri-wizard tournament that his young wizard friend found himself forced to compete in was truly dreadful.

Harry had been drinking tea and listening to him as he told his friend of how he'd been washing dishes earlier when something happened. Dobby couldn't put into words what had happened but saw his Master Harry Potter's eyes loose focus and slump forward as the tea cup shattered on the floor. He'd reached out to see if Harry was alright and now he was here, outside in the daytime. It had been dark outside moments before.

The poor house elf startled when he spotted Harry's school robe on the ground, "Sir Harry Potter?" he called out tentatively. Crisp leaves crackled around him as he looked for his friend. They needed to get back to Hogwarts! Was this the work of Dark Wizards?

"Sirs' ears have become all pointy, they has!" Dobby exclaimed as he held up the shrunken boy. Harry Potter was now very young and small. If Dobby had to guess he would say his friend was now an infant of no older than a year, Harry was so very small. But Dobby was unsure as he was not around infants often. Still when held in Dobby's scrawny arms the boy was nearly half the size of the three foot tall house-elf.

"Why does Harry Potter not speak?" Dobby asked and the boy gurgled in reply. Perhaps he was now too small to speak. But the emerald orbs gazed upon him with familiarity so Dobby thought perhaps his friend could understand him.

The Great Wizard Dumbly-dore would surely be able to aid his Master Harry Potter Sir. Holding tightly to Harry Dobby made a crisp and powerful snap of his fingers, intent on returning to Hogwarts kitchens. But nothing happened. Dobby snapped his fingers a few more times and yet the two remained in the unfamiliar forest. Frowning Dobby set his sights on a branch upon the ground. A crisp snap later and the branch was now a small broom that began to sweep at the ground.

His magic still worked and yet he could not return. Dobby did not know why this was.

He was a House- Elf after all, he'd never traversed the outdoors beyond- very rarely tending to his old Master's gardens. Dobby was clueless as to what he needed to do as he waggled his bat-like ears in nervousness.

The wilderness made him uneasy, it was so very open and wild! In a heartbeat Dobby undid the twine about his socks and removed them, with a snap they were clean. He then placed one sock like a cap upon Harry's head, covering even his ears in order to save warmth. He then put the other upon his own noggin though he could not tuck his ears in. "Dobby knew these socks is being a fine investment!"

Wanting to ease his nervousness and that unending silence Dobby began to prattle recipes to the young wizard as he picked a direction to travel in. "-And that's why Dobby is finding two eggs is best in omelets Harry Potter Sir."

House-elf and babe walked late into the day when they quite literally ran into another group. They were some of the smallest people Dobby had ever seen and at first mistook them to be children. After a moment of confusion he realized they did not seem to be children. There were four of them and they frantically waved their arms and spoke in raised voices. Speaking a language unknown to him. "Off the road, swiftly! You must flee the road!"

"Dobby is not understandings what sirs is saying! Dobby doesn't speaks their language!" The distressed house elf wailed. The short creature did his best to shield his young wizard friend, unsure of these small men's intentions. They seemed panicked and insistent, but what if it were a trick or they were thieves?

Still one of the small men took Dobby's arm and pulled him along in a frantic run. Looking behind them Dobby understood the need to run- for upon a Thestral was a Dementor!

A tall man was suddenly there besides them as Dobby ran with all his might as Harry whimpered, seeming to realize that he must be silent. For that Dobby was thankful, he knew how demeanors affected the young Potter.

It seemed like hours before the group stopped their breakneck speed and Dobby was only a breath away from collapse, house-elves were not known for their long distance running skills. As he panted and rocked Harry the small group began to mutter and argue amongst themselves.

Large tennis ball sized eyes squeezed shut in anticipation of a blow if the angered tones of the unknown language were to be heeded. Harry began to cry lustily as he felt his guardian begin to shake in fear. After a fear fueled minute Dobby dared to peak open one of his eyes. The tall man who'd joined the run was speaking harshly to one of the small curly haired not-children.

"At first I thought it was an old woman and her grandchild…" Merry explained to the man, "We couldn't let a poor old dear and child be in the way of those things now could we?"

"It wasn't till we got closer that we realized it wasn't an old biddy. But still it had a babe…" Merry looked at his feet, feeling less heroic than he'd thought he'd feel under the wild ranger's stare.

Aragorn sighed as he stared the creature, they'd likely interrupted a meal in progress. Surprising the thing had yet to try to flee with its likely ill-gotten gain. Nor had it tried to finish its meal.

The strange band of people had not moved seemingly content in staring at the poor shaking house elf and crying babe. Hesitantly Dobby began to bounce the young wizard on his shoulder as he had once done for his former master Malfoy when he was a babe. Harry began to calm a bit, the wails subsiding to a hiccoughing fit. The man who appeared to be the leader of the ragtag group approached the small house elf and circled him. A fine and sharp tip of a sword always pointed, always ready.

"What manner of creature are you?" Aragorn tried to ask the incredibly odd orc, if the creature was indeed an orc at all. It was becoming clear that this thing had no intention of eating the baby in its arms. For one thing- food was never comforted before it was devoured! Another thing, Orcs rarely used the traveling roads preferring to lay in wait in the woods. Why had it been on an open road?

"The child. Where did you get it, Orc?" it didn't answer, only nervously watched the sharp tip of his sword. Perhaps it needed persuasion. He swung the blade enough to nick the creature's cheek- making it stumble away in self preservation, it babbled something vaguely accusatory at him but did not set the child down or run.

There was no time for this Strider realized as he turned from the orc and called to the Hobbits to continue onward.

Dobby had yet to see any other travelers so despite the threatening one with the sword he decided it best to follow. The direction in which they came had a dementor, leaving only one way left to go. He'd just be sure to stay out of reach of the tall scraggily man. The house-elf had plenty of practice in such matters, it was no different than avoiding his former Master's cane.

Nervously wiggling his ears Dobby timidly trailed after the group, whispering to Harry Potter to ease his ruined nerves. Once they were home he'd never venture from his safe kitchens ever again!

~!~!~!

It was comical how the creature held the babe above its head as it trudged through the waist deep swamp. Or it would've been, if the hobbits themselves were not so miserable trudging through the very same swamp. Thankfully the bulk of mosquitoes seemed far more interested in the plump halflings than the swaddled child and scrawny house elf.

The small group was surprised by the fact the creature seemed intent on following them after several days. Strider had assured them the creature would loose interest once it realized they would not be easy meals to pick off. It was Sam who'd rejected the idea that it wanted to eat them and instead suggested that they offer it food perhaps it would leave. But the effect was the exact opposite, just as Strider had feared. The orc only became more bold, venturing closer to the fire at night to lay its small man child nearer to the fire as it slept. It did not try to communicate with them, merely stayed just out of reach.

And as much as the ranger wanted to slay the creature and be done with it, the beast took better care of the child than their company could at present time. Inexplicably the creature would have milk in the small canteen that Frodo had reluctantly given it when it panted pathetically at a river, gulping water desperately. But no one ever saw it leave the periphery of their group. Yet there was always milk in the canteen for the poor babe.

The child never seemed to need to be cleaned as Strider knew babies needed to be often- it never smelled foul. The orc never stopped once. It made a better traveller than the hobbits who cried and complained of hunger after a few hours.

But by jove did this one enjoy snapping its long spindly fingers, annoying really.

I know, I know but yeah… Got a new computer and found this old thing buried in my old one sooo…. Yeah…. My answer to Elfling Harry.

Like it? Hate it? Have ideas? Let me know!