Chapter 2

Harry woke slowly, keeping his breathing deep and even and his eyes closed, trying to sense if there was anyone nearby. Vernon let him alone when he was asleep or unconscious, seeing no point in terrorizing him when he couldn't feel fear or pain.

He was lying on something soft—much softer than his bed at the Dursley's—and, though there was pain, it was much less than he had become accustomed to, merely the familiar, lingering aches of healing wounds.

He tensed slightly as he heard someone coming down the hallway, light footsteps almost silent—but Harry had learned well to keep an ear out for such sounds. They often preceded lots of pain.

Please, don't be coming here…

The door opened quietly and Harry's eyes snapped open on pure reflex. He had never been good at feigning sleep for long.

Xxxx

Elrond pushed the door open gently, hoping his young charge would wake, that they might learn more about him.

To his surprise, verdant eyes snapped open and fixed on him as soon as he stepped through the doorway, the wariness and resignation in that gaze making his heart clench.

No Elfling should look at another of the Eldar like that.

Though he had expected the reaction from what had been done to the little one, it still hurt to see him so fearful.

"Ai, tither pen…" he whispered sadly, continuing in Sindarin as he approached the bed, "Who is it that has hurt you so?"

Harry drew back, curling in on himself as the stranger came closer, though the words were somewhat reassuring. Surely the stranger wouldn't hurt him if he was so sad that he had been hurt…

But the reaction was beyond him to stop, a terror drilled so far into him as to be innate at this point.

Elrond hesitated as the child pulled away, trembling. He did not want to push him, but the bandages needed to be changed… "Hên…" he trailed off as the little one made a valiant effort to relax, daring to take another step forward. "I need to change your bandages."

After several moments, he received a hesitant nod.

Elrond moved to the bedside, setting the fresh bandages on the nightstand before helping the little one to untie the soft robe so that he could reach the bandaged wrapped carefully around the child's chest. The Elf-Lord then slowly began to remove the old bandages, trying not to frighten the little one any more than necessary.

"What is your name, little one?" Elrond asked, to take the cringing Elfling's mind off of his fear.

"Aleneth," the little one murmured, almost sadly.

He had no name? "We shall have to give you a name, then, hên."

The child glanced at him briefly, his expression a mixture of hope and trepidation.

Elrond was struck by the verdant hue of emerald eyes, "We shall call you Calenhen, tither pen."

Xxxx

Sindarin:tither pen—'little one'hên—'child'al—negative prefixeneth—'name'

aleneth—lit. 'no name'