Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.

AN: Don't take this too seriously. I don't. Also: I've never read the books, and have only watched the movies once—9 years ago (from writing this in 2018). Sooo… yeah, there's gonna be mistakes. Most of my knowledge of the storyline comes from fanfic lol.

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Harry rolled over in his sleep and pulled in a little snore. Then he smacked his lips and curled up. His brow furrowed though. This wasn't his comfortable bed that he'd died in.

Wait. He was supposed to be dead. This was the afterlife, right? Then why did it smell bad? And his pillow was quite uncomfortable.

His eyes opened quickly, then his nose joined his brow in furrowing. It smelt terrible in here.

Slowly, Harry sat up and rubbed his face. Everything felt… off. A quick pat down on his body revealed one problem: he was tiny.

"This better—" His thoughts, about how this better be a prank from the Weasleys (even George's great-grandson was a prankster) were cut off as he heard his voice. It sounded so…. Musical!

"Oh fuck," he cursed, groping at his head. The second he felt his ears… the POINTED…ears… he actually squeaked. Harry jumped up to his feet quickly, spinning around. When his eyes landed on a nearby shield next to a skeleton—ew—he ran to it and picked it up. He rubbed it with his elbow to make the surface shiny enough to see.

"Holy fuck… I'm an elf!" He stared in shock for a few moments, then pumped his fist, "YES!" The shield was dropped in favor of a tiny happy dance!

His happy dance, which had some pretty epic moves, stopped when he heard footsteps approaching. Harry rushed over towards where he heard the sounds, leaning around the entryway to the room he was in.

Coming towards him was an old man, tiny men, other men, a tall man, a short man. Ooo. Lots of men. Harry fluttered for a second as he thought about what to do, then he ran over to the big tomb like thing—it was probably a tomb—and hid behind it in the shadows.

The group was talking amongst themselves as they came into the room until one of them let out a cry—maybe a name? Harry couldn't understand them, unfortunately—and rushed closer to where Harry was. He curled into himself, trying to get as small as possible, biting his lip to hold in his giggles. Why was this so fun? Like hide and seek with his grandkids!

The old man—Harry could tell from his voice—started to speak, the cadence suggesting he was reading from something. One man was still crying. Harry's urge to laugh died. Crying was sad. It made Harry sad too.

Without thinking Harry sniffled, the sound echoing in the cave-like feature they were in. All sound stopped and Harry clapped his hands over his mouth, eyes wide. 'Oh shit!' he thought, his urge to laugh back. His emotional turn around was going to give him whiplash

Two sets of feet slowly made their way over to where Harry was hiding. Soon, Harry had two swords and an arrow in his face. His eyes, still wide, stared up at the three men—why had he only hear two sets of feet?—around him and dropped his hands to grin brightly.

"Hi!" He laughed hearing his voice again. The blond and black haired one's mouths dropped open in shock. "I'm Harry, who are you!?"

"Sindarin?" the blond muttered, hands going slack.

"An elf?" The black haired one asked at the same time. The last man said something too, but Harry couldn't understand.

When Harry spoke the old man came around and joined two of them in their shock. The little men all came around and looked shocked as well.

"Is there something on my face?" Harry asked, patting his face. He was staring at the blond too…. Then jumped to his feet and pointed.

"YOU'RE AN ELF. I'M AN ELF TOO!" Harry was shouting because of his excitement. The old man was the first to recover and surged forward to put a wrinkly hand over Harry's mouth.

"Quiet, foolish child!" He whispered harshly. Harry blinked wide and nodded behind the hand. The old man removed his hand and Harry smiled, but Harry mimed locking his mouth shut. Two of the short ones giggled, so Harry turned his smile to them.

The elf, because he had pointed ears like him, knelt down so he was closer to Harry's height—and damn, he was fucking short now wasn't he? They were all taller than him!—and put a hand on his shoulder, speaking in the language he could understand.

"Little one, how did you come to be here?"

Harry shrugged. "Where is here?" He asked.

The short—but not the shortest—and red-haired man spoke. He looked like someone took a Weasley and smooshed them into a pancake. The mental image set Harry into giggles. The one with black hair was who answered him, however, "The caves of Moria."

"No idea," Harry replied around his giggles, stepping brazenly closer to his fellow Elf. He ran a few of his fingers through the Elf's long hair, slightly mesmerized. "I woke up here," He elaborated. In a completely unhelpful way.

The Elf and the Black-haired one looked at each other over Harry's head. As the only two—maybe three, the old man spoke in the same language too—to understand him, that answer was worrying.

A conversation happened then, but Harry wasn't paying attention. He was distracting himself with the blond Elf's shirt. The elf had wrapped an arm around Harry to hold him close in a facsimile of a hug. But, like any child—Harry would know, he'd had 3 himself and a good dozen grandchildren. Not to mention the great-grandchild before he died—he lacked an attention span. He leaned over the arm that held him close to the elf at the littlest men and waved.

"Hello," His voice tinkled like bells and it made Harry want to laugh more.

They waved back to him, smiling as well.

"What are your names?" Harry asked, not caring that they probably didn't understand. "I'm Harry." He pointed to himself as he said that, so proud of his own name.

The four little people looked at each other. The one with the darkest hair seemed to, maybe, understand. The gibberish that followed probably contained their names. Harry tilted his head and tried again.

"Harry." And pointed to himself. Then he pointed to the lightest haired little man. This way he got the names Sam, Frodo, Merry, and Pippin. Harry was so happy to have some names.

"Ohoh, maybe," he started and pointed to the elf who was holding him. Frodo said, "Legolas," and Harry realized it would work. He pointed all around and got the rest of the names, wiggling in his happiness.

Legolas chuckled softly when Harry wiggled and quickly stood up, picking up Harry at the same time. Harry made a noise of shock, staring with wide eyes at the blond.

"Warn me next time," He fake waped the elf on the shoulder, though his other hand was clutching Legolas' shirt tightly, legs squeezing the waist he was held against.

"Sorry, little one," Legolas consoled, "We need to get moving. Will you come with us?"

Harry leaned back in Legolas' arms and nodded. "Of course," he said, "Where else will I go? I don't wanna stay here, it smells."

Aragorn snickers at Harry's words, but didn't explain to the others. Legolas was tempted, though, just so he could see Gimli's reaction.

The merry (HAH) moment came to an end when they all started to hear The Drums. Harry knew they had capital letters—the sound was ominous and deserved the capitals.

Gandalf, the old man, barked something to them even while Boromir? Was that the name of the other man? Harry couldn't remember—nor did he really care. He'd discovered that his clothes were finely decorated, like the elf who held him.

Speaking of the elf, Legolas shuffled Harry off to a dark corner as the people began to prepare to defend themselves.

"Stay here, little one," Legolas whispered quickly, "And please stay safe!" The elf looked at Harry the way Harry remembered looking at James when he'd first gone off to Hogwarts. Realizing the seriousness (Harry mentally snickered, as he should have with that silly name pun) of the situation, he nodded and made the promise.

Unfortunately, the promise only lasted until the mother fucking TROLL Came in and Harry was remembering his first time encountering a troll. He was probably bigger at 11 at Hogwarts than he was now at whatever age he was in Moria, but that Saving People Thing reared its ugly head.

Quickly patting down his body and finding no wand, Harry didn't care as he just rushed forward towards the other small people. He jumped in front of Frodo and shouted with an outstretched arm, "WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA!" and then proceeded to use the magic—yaay magic!—to beat the Troll against the ceiling and floor of the cave.

Most stopped at this action, shocked at what the tiny Elfling was doing, none so much as Frodo and Legolas. Okay, well, most of them. Gandalf, Aragorn, and Legolas the most at his display of magic, and Frodo because the tiny child had jumped in front of him when there was a troll bearing down upon them!

The rest didn't really know it as something out of the norm, Boromir especially, and just continued to attack the stunned monsters.

Harry smiled at his handy work, the Troll successfully knocked out and turned to Frodo to smile. Then he threw out a thumbs up which the other hand no idea what meant.

Eventually, they were fleeing from the room, Harry clinging to Legolas' back like a limpet since the Elf would be the least burdened by Harry's additional weight. It made getting arrows difficult, but Harry maneuvered himself out of the way of the quiver so Legolas could grab them as needed.

It was quite frightening when the Balrog appeared and Harry was frozen in that fear—something he blamed on being tiny again. Also because he'd never seen anything as terrifying as that creature. Quite natural, his reaction, eyes wide as he just stared as Gandalf fell.

The group was somber as they fled the caves. When they finally decided to rest, Harry was being cradled in Legolas' lap and the tiny elf was glad for it. While, mentally, he could understand his fear, his body was still in shock as a result. It was a bit disconcerting for his adult mind, but he tried as best as he could.

Frodo questioned about Harry's magic and how the child hadn't tried to use it to save the Wizard, but Harry was locked in his fear and Frodo realized why Harry hadn't helped… and he felt shamed for expecting a child, not to mention one they'd just met, to do something none of the adults could have.

The next few days were a bit of a daze for the new elf Harry, but eventually, he came to as they entered a forest. Harry could feel the magic in the air and it seemed to snap him out of his daze.

"Where are we?" He finally asked, having been clinging to Legolas' back once more. His chin pressed into the Elven prince's shoulder, arms around his neck and legs going around his chest.

"We are in the woods of Lorien. We seek the council of the lady Galadriel and there you will remain safe," came Legolas' reply, patting a leg that was clinging to him.

"Is she important? Is she the one whose magic I can feel? Will she help us? Is she an elf too? Will she like me? What does she look like?" The questions came out rapid fire and Legolas, plus Aragorn had to laugh at the cuteness of it.

"Yes, she is important, dear one," Legolas began, followed by Aragorn.

"We hope that she will aid us," the Ranger said, helping the hobbits through the forest. He didn't want to say that they were in desperate need of help, but…

Gimli, or the Weasley Pancake as Harry was still calling him mentally, chose that moment to grumble.

Harry stared at him before turning to Legolas, "What language is that? Why can't I speak it? Can I speak it? I don't understand what he's saying."

The last sentence brought deep chuckles out of both Aragorn and Legolas since they were an echo of what the dwarf had just said.

"He is speaking common, little Harry," explained Legolas, "And I imagine you can not speak it because you do not know it."

An epic pout pulled on Harry's face, Aragorn taking the moment to explain what was happening to the others who didn't understand, and the hobbits found it adorable—Pippin even cooed.

"Can I learn?" Harry finally asked. The next several hours were spent teaching Harry some words in Common. The lessons were interrupted by Elves surrounding them, blindfolding them, and bringing them to Lothlorien.

Harry spent the journey blindfolded as well, raising his hand immediately after Aragorn called for it—and Legolas translated—wanting to be first. When the guard did, Harry smiled so wide as he prattled to him about how awesome it was to meet another elf and how cool were they, could he have a green blindfold instead of black, and what was your name?

The guards were lighthearted at the elfling's voice, and Harry continuing to ask—and receive answers to—his questions as they made the journey.

Once the blindfolds were removed, Harry slid off of Legolas' back and trotted over to the pretty lady.

"Hi, I'm Harry. Who are you? You're pretty."

Galadriel couldn't hold in her delicate laugh, crouching down to be nearer to Harry's height.

"Hello, dear child, I am Galadriel. Well met." She brushed the back of her fingers down Harry's downy soft cheek and he happily leaned into the gentle touch, just like his children—grandchildren—and great-grandchildren had done when he'd made the same gesture.

He walked to her afterward, wrapping his arms around her neck in a hug. She stood, holding him, while she addressed the rest of the Fellowship.

Eventually, everyone was retired to a room and Harry was no different. A quick bath, new clothes, and a promise to talk in the morning and he was asleep for the night.

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AN: I doubt this will be long, but who knows. I love me some fluff and may write a ton after the whole war, canon, whatever, is over.