Prologue
The air was sticky and hot though it was nearing midnight in London. Buildings were in ruins on the streets, muggles crushed by the impact of the brick were scattered about and there were no signs of survivors. Except for one. Just a few miles into the dead city a boy, no, a young man was kneeling next to a motionless body.
The young mans figure was soaked in blood and cuts covered his body, surrounded by dark blue and yellow bruises. He wore an emerald tunic that was stained crimson and dirty beige pants. The young man was sobbing and shaking as he whispered harsh words at the dead man in front of him.
"P-please! W-wake up R-Remus! Do-don't leave me! Not like Sirius! Voldemort's gone, we can live peacefully now! Just don't give up!"
The young man started to rock himself back and forth, trying to stop the tears that were burning in his green eyes. He could hear Remus' voice, soothing as always, whispering to him over his should, 'I'm going to get there first Harry, I'm going to beat you to Sirius! Remember? You let him die too!'
Harry's hands flew up to cover his pointed elf ears and he let out a cry of grief. He had killed Voldemort, but it was too late and his last guardian was gone. Why did he always come too late? Why did he always lose those he loved?
Harry's head jerked up, long black hair falling back over his shoulders, and tears still burned his face. Someone was coming. He felt it, but whom? Everyone was dead. Hermione, the Weasley', the Hogwarts Staff, The Aurors, almost every muggle born witch or wizard. The tugging on his mind was pulling on his heart painfully. Surely his mind was just making it up, hoping that someone was still there for him.
The air to his left crackled and hissed as angry flames started. Harry's eyes widened and he smiled a watery smile and choked, "Fawkes!" A trill confirmed his statement. The phoenix landed on his knees and looked him in the face.
Young one, you have succeeded in your first fate.
Harry's grin widened but then dropped, "My First fate? Fawkes, please, please don't-" The phoenix interrupted him.
Silence. You must go to the next plane in need of your assistance. It is the necessity of every Fëanáro Elf.
The phoenix looked the young man-elf and his eyes softened. Fawkes rubbed its head against Harry's cheek and warmth spread through Harry's body.
I wish only to help you along, young one, however harsh I may sound.
Harry nodded and sat back against an enormous slab of stone that had once been a part of some apartment roof. Closing his eyes, Harry heard the phoenix sing a song of time and space. Harry didn't want to go, but Fawkes was right. It was his duty as a Fëanáro Elf to help the universes. The song started to fade into his fogging mind, Harry was no longer sitting in a demolished city in front of his dead guardian.
Voldemort stood in front of him, wand drawn and crimson eyes glinting as he smirked in his direction. The Dark Lord spat some words Harry couldn't hear and then shouted some spell. He dodged, confused, and asked himself, why couldn't he control his body. Then he remembered that it was the past and he was merely in a memory.
Everything blacked out suddenly and it felt as though Harry were choking. Gasping, Harry clutched his throat and opened his mouth to scream but found he couldn't. Then, it all stopped. He didn't need to breathe now, he thought drowsily, just float around, like a little birdie. There was a tingling around his head and he started to panic until something told him to relax. After a few moments, he found he knew things that made absolutely no sense. What was an orc? How did he know what its weakness was?
Hard ground seemed to slam into his back with no warning, jolting him from his trance. Gasping as he tried to breathe again, Harry opened his eyes and looked around, only to find himself held at sword point by a man with dark wavy hair and, according to the information that had just been planted into his head, ranger clothes.
"Who are you, stranger?" Harry turned his head and saw another elf, like himself but blonde, aiming an arrow at his heart from few meters up on a boulder. There was no time for Harry to reply as there was a loud clunking and all eyes turned to it.
"You fool!" An old man, who looked eerily like Dumbledore, bellowed furiously at a very small man, "Next time, through yourself down and save us from your idiocy!" And a crash came from a door to their left. The dark haired man picked lifted his sword to the door and got into a fighting stance.
Harry took the chance to gather himself and leap to his feet, only to stumble backward again in pain. He must have broken something in the drop. Unfortunately, the elf above him hadn't forgotten him and grabbed a fistful of his collar. Looking Harry in the eye, the elf said clearly, "Stay away from the battle, young elf, we will deal with you later."
That said, the blonde elf threw Harry out of the way. 'What is with me being thrown into stone surfaces today?' He wondered irately. Harry had no choice but to watch as a horde of 'orcs', as his information told him, came stomping in, looking hideously gruesome.
I haven't read the LotR books, but I've seen the movies and read fanfics. I do plan to read them though.