A/N: After reading hundreds and hundreds of Germania sure looks like Legolass jokes I finally snapped and started writing a fic where he gets thrown into Middle earth. About time too I've been itching to write something like this for weeks. Before you start reading there are few Head cannons of mine that you should be aware of.

First of all I think countries can understand just about any language they hear. Although young countries have more trouble with this than old ones.

Secondly in this fic Prussia is Germania's son. I don't care if you say he's more Baltic that German and blah blah blah. So without further ado, please enjoy reading my silly story.

A Very Dwarvish Elf

Chapter one.

Now where the Hel am I!

When Germania awoke the world around him was eerily quiet.

At first he didn't realise this, as his return to the world of the consciousness was painstakingly slow. It was as if someone had tucked him inside of a very thick and warm cloak that felt softer than any other material he had ever touched. It was no wonder that he wanted to sleep longer and stay in the world of dreams where there were no worldly troubles annoying Romans. He could have laid there all eternity feeling nothing but utter bliss, this, however, could not last forever and he was already feeling sleep slipping away from him. First he felt warm wind playing on his skin as if someone was letting their fingertips tickle him. Then that pleasant feeling was followed with something that closely resembled a major hangover.

I think I have a headache.

Then he realised where he was laying. On the ground to be precise, the smell of grass was unmistakeable and there seemed to be a small pebble stuck under his lower back. When a small groan escaped from him he realised he had a mouth. Something was tickling his fingertips, so he had hands as well? Somehow this felt very strange to Germania, as if he shouldn't have hands nor mouth, or it had been a very long time since he last had them.

Who was he?

The question came uninvited and for an agonizingly long moment he actually had to struggle to remember. Who was he? What was his name? He knew he had a name. He had several names. Humans had called him with different names depending the era and where they lived. It shouldn't be so hard to remember at least one of his names.

A memory swam behind his eyelids like a fish, swift and equally difficult to grasp. Small fair haired children were scowling at him. Why were they scowling? One of them tucked his sleeve and whined with a pouting voice "Vaaaaatiii~! Saxony is teasing me."

Vati… No, that wasn't his name but it was something similar. Vater… Der Vaterland. Yes that was what his people called him. Germania, the representation of Germanic states. Enemy of one useless Rome. Father and Grandfather of his many descendants.

Wait, he had children?! Somehow that didn't sound right. The faces of fair haired children flashed behind his eyelids again, weren't they all supposed to be grown up already. Adult nations?

He opened his eyes with a pained groan and feebly tried to lift himself into a sitting position. With few stumbling attempts he finally succeeded and proceeded to massage his temples. Dear Woden his head hadn't hurt this much since he had won that drinking competition with Scandinavia. Not to mention how muddled his memories were. How could he have forgotten his own name and - Where the heck was he anyway.

Old gnarled trees blocked most of the sunlight making the area look shadowy. Wind was rustling tree leaves gently, making Germania's hair dance in the breeze. He followed the sway of his golden strands almost in trance before quickly getting a hold of himself.

What was he doing. His head felt like it had been stuffed with wool, making thinking very difficult. With a grimace he stood up on his wobbly legs, the whole world was swaying and he had to swallow a pile down. This was not time to get sick, he had to remember how he had gotten himself into this mess and it would also be nice to know his current location.

He didn't appear to be hurt. His clothes were clean, free of blood and mud and his armour looked like he had polished it just yesterday. His armbraces, gloves and leather boots were on their proper places. Just when he was ready to sigh in relief and declare that nothing was missing he realised how vulnerably unarmed he was.

Where was his axe! His bow, not to mention his sword!

Almost in near panic he scanned the surrounding area. It was one thing to be lost, but to be lost without any means of protecting yourself or hunt any game. Without some extraordinary luck, that was almost a certain death sentence. With determined frown he started searching his missing weapons among the undergrowth.

He searched for almost an hour without any luck until he saw something shine under an old Oak tree, reflecting sunlight brightly. Had Germania been more susceptible nation he would have sobbed from relief when he finally spotted his trustworthy axe buried under some dead leaves. He however, was not, and merely gave a slight impatient sigh and continued searching. The shadows slowly grew taller, and it was almost evening when he decided to give up. Beside his axe, he had managed to find his old bow and few arrows that he had stuffed them under his belt (not the best place to keep them but it had to do). His sword however, had decided to remain missing and there was nothing Germania could do about it.

Feeling more tired than he should after being unconscious for most of the day he sat under a tree and tried to put his memories together. He knew who he was which was always a good thing. He had someone he disliked (hated, despised, wanted them dead!) for some reason he couldn't remember the said nation's face too well but that wasn't a big loss. Then… he had children but he was almost certain they were not children anymore. No, it was hazy memory at best but those boys should be all grown up by now. Mighty nations of their own might and Germania… Germania should be gone from this world.

It was cruel but it was how their world worked. Nations rise and Nations fall. he had lived a reasonably long time and then, one at the time, found his loud and incredibly annoying descendants stumbling around his lands.

They were always so small when he found them. No older looking than a human child that had just recently learned how to talk and walk. He supposed he could have just killed them, they would have returned back to his soil and the life would have gone on.

But for some reason, he couldn't do it. Just… couldn't.

Of course, allowing them to live meant that Germania would die soon. Each nation had one personification, sometimes perhaps two. More than that was unnecessary and so in the end Germania had become unneeded and faded away. His sons had divided his lands after his death and lived on.

Was that why he was here, was this some sort of afterlife. Germania listened the wind around him and frowned. Somehow he doubted it. If he truly strained hid memory, he could remember, little by little, of the existence, after his own fall. He had sometimes wondered it, in the deepest darkest corner of his mind and he had not been the only one. Greece had long ago suggested, that perhaps once their life as a nation ended they would turn into humans. Germania had not liked that notion at all. He rather liked being a nation and humans lived such a fleetingly short lives. But perhaps he could get used to it, if they indeed ended up into humans.

Some other suggestions had been made along the years by several nations. Perhaps there was an afterlife reserved solely for the nations. Perhaps they would simply disappear. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. No one knew for sure.

Was he a human now? Germania nicked his finger against his axe and watched as blood slowly dripped from the shallow cut. It only took a moment or two for the cut to heal and not leave even the tiniest scar behind. Hmm, definitely not a human then. Germania placed his right hand onto his chest and listened carefully.

For a long moment he felt nothing, only the earth under him and the wind rustling his clothes and hair.

Then… he felt faint thumping, barely there but as sure sounding as the footsteps of marching soldiers. His hear was still beating so he had to be alive.

How, puzzling. He would have liked to ponder about the sheer impossibility of his beating heart longer but cold shivers were suddenly running over his back. His breath hitched and his heart bumped faster. He couldn't remember when he had last time felt so terrified. Something was coming. He didn't know what but whatever it was he didn't want to meet it. He heard loud rustling and growling among the darkness and it was heading to his way. He barely managed to climb on top of a tall tree and hide among the bright green leaves when the largest wolf he had ever seen trotted just below his hiding place.

The wolf however, didn't unnerve him half as much as the ugly creature on its back. It was a hideous, filthy looking thing with misshapen face and snout like nose. The fact that it had a nasty looking spear grasped on its long arms and smelled like a rotting corpse, didn't make Germania feel any better. It barked something to the darkness of the forest with inhuman voice and soon many more wolves and their ugly riders appeared very unluckily right below his tree.

There was some part of Germania that chastised him for hiding like a coward. That part was quickly squished by a rather hysterical mental voice.

"Demons!" Germania willed his breathing remain quiet. "Monsters! Wolves as big as horses! Where on Woden's name am I?"

Germania listened carefully the language that the demons were speaking. It sounded very ugly and guttural but it reminded him of vaguely some other language. Britannia had spoken something little similar long ago. Although infinitely more beautifully. As soon as he made the connection the words were easier to understand although they still made little sense to him.

"I say, we keep hunting. Those pointy ears can't have gone far!" Demon on black furred wolf barked.

"It's as you say. We get to kill some elves tonight!" Another cackled with wicked gleam on its ugly eyes.

One of the wolves had strayed from the pack and started sniffing the base of the tree Germania was currently perching in.

"Oh, verdammnt!" He swore silently in his mind. "Go away you stupid mangy mutt!"

The wolf hesitated, almost like it didn't know what to think. Then one of the biggest demons roared once and the ugly horde of monsters vanished into the darkness.

Germania breathed once, twice, three times before he dared to move. He had seen terrifying creatures before. There lived monsters in the darkest corners of his lands too, but none like that.

He carefully lowered himself to the ground, feeling unreasonably shaky. He smacked himself a little. "Get a grip Germania. Don't act like a cowardly roman." But no amount of smacking could remove a cold feeling that had taken grip of his insides. A feeling, that told him that he was very far from his home.

A/N: End of chapter one. There are no words to describe how randomly I started writing this. I'm literally pulling stuff from my arse as I go along. I suppose I shall write chapter two if anyone shows any interest in this story. Not that I have any more idea than you as to where this story is going. I apologize for any annoying grammar mistakes I have made.