TBH it's WAY easier to read this one on AO3, but here's a table of contents by story-chronology if you need it

Table of Contents in Chronological Order:

1. Námo (8-9): Námo receives Harry's soul from Illuvatar, learns some things about Arda's newest resident, and speculates.
2. A Delivery in the Night (9-10): Yavanna visits Calasain as he sleeps, and delivers to him a long-lost friend.
3. Now I Know How Seamus Felt (10-11): Arasion discovers the volatility of middle-earth magic.
4. A Maiar Problem and Mama Manwe (11): Ulmo discovers that the Valar may have to hold back a horde of enthusiastic maiar soon; Manwe earns a new (and unwanted) title thanks to Tulkas's jokes
5. Strange Magicks (12): Calasain's chapter 12 dream; Belegwend discovers the child's absence
6. LORD ELROND HOLY FUCK (12-13): An (exaggerated) account of what happened after Arasion vanished from Brun and Belegwend's house and word reached the elves of Imladris.
7. Glorfindel's Puppy Eyes (14-15): Glorfindel and the twins return to Rivendell, elflingless.
8 & 9. A Bloody First Impression (AU #1): Wherein Arasion literally drags himself to the elves, trailing blood and orcs. Now with part 2.
10. Maedhros (AU #2): A glimpse of what could have been, had Harry chosen Namo
11. Caught (AU #3): In which Glorfindel is a little quicker when he first meets Arasion
12. Firstborn of the Firstborn (AU #4): Calasain is the first elf ever and lives in Valinor
13. Requests (Various AUs): as requested on AO3

Yavanna barely contained her excitement as she waited and watched, practically vibrating with eagerness on the edge of physical reality. Her husband laughed softly, sliding wide, calloused hands over her slim shoulders.

"Calm, love," he admonished without heat, murmuring into her pointed ear. She could hear the fond grin in his voice.

"Ah, but he is almost asleep!" she sang rapturously, not taking her eyes off of the little wizard-turned-elfling that was nodding off in the sheltered nook that she had gently directed him to. "We have waited so long for this moment! Just look at the littling!" She cooed, bracing a hand against her chest.

"Calm, Green Lady, or you will wake him the moment you step onto the shore." Irmo's voice was teasing, and she shot a brief, mild glare to where he stood with his wife and most of the other Valar.

"Ah, of course you can say that, Irmo." She waved a hand, turning back to her watching. "You have spoken directly to him twice now, and will again tonight! The rest of us are not so lucky, I needn't remind you."

Irmo laughed and made to reply, but at that precise moment Calasain slipped into the land of dreams; the Lord of Visions sketched a quick bow as Yavanna shooed him away, his grin matching hers, and faded into the realm of dreams to greet his favorite otherworlder.

"At long last," Yavanna breathed, stepping from thin air and oh-so-gently dipping her bare feet into the shallow seawater. Ulmo's magic surged, matching hers step-for-step as she danced onto the sand, skirts raised above the water. The Lord of Waters would use the sea to shield her presence and power from all. The trees roused as she walked past them, some nearly all the way; they greeted their mistress with slow enthusiasm. The Lady of Earth giggled and trailed her fingers lovingly along their trunks, pale green life-magic lingering in gently-glowing streaks that slowly dissipated into the trees' hearts. Green shoots sprang up in her footfalls, flowering into delicate and short-lived night blossoms that glowed in blues and purples. They would wither away come moonrise.

"Oh, my flower," Yavanna cooed gently as she at last came upon the sleeping babe, the sheltering greenery moving aside obligingly to grant her access. "Oh, my precious little flower."

Calasain did not so much as stir as Yavanna reached in and gently scooped him up, cradling the little body much as she did the delicate green buds of her beloved plants. He hummed and curled closer to her chest, snuggling deeper into her sunlight-warmth in the innocent trust of sleep.

"Well met, my Calasain," she murmured with a smile, trailing elegant fingers over the baby-smooth skin of his forehead. The elfling sighed softly at the touch, turning and burying his face against her. Yavanna sighed. Though she would gladly have held him all through the moonlit night, she knew her visit must be brief. "I must leave you soon, my flower," she whispered, stroking his unruly black hair. "But let me sing to you, once, at least."

Yavanna sang in Valarin, in the language of creation, though she did not seek to create as before. No, the Valie sang a song of life and healing, of springtime after winter, of a burned-out forest returning greener and stronger than before. She sang a renewing lullaby, Ulmo's power shielding the delicate balance of Middle-Earth from her power, and bolstered Calasain's flagging and grieving spirit. The babe sighed and melted into her arms, one tiny hand coming up to tangle in the folds of her tunic; she felt as Irmo pushed him into a deep and dreamless sleep, the signal for her leave-taking.

With a disappointed sigh, the Green Lady kissed Calasain's forehead and gently returned him to his mossy cradle, retrieving a blanket from his pack and tucking it around him, lest he become cold in the night. Námo tugged gently at her power, and Yavanna smiled as she received his offering. Still sitting on her heels, she pressed her palms together and slowly opened them; a small glowing light—a soul—flickered fitfully between her palms. Gently, she blew upon it, and in a rush of white feathers it took form again.

"Well met, little one," Yavanna whispered as the snowy owl awoke in her hands, blinking in confusion. "I have brought you to your boy, Hedwig."

Hedwig, for it was she, looked into the face of the Lady of Earth and was delighted. The familiar crooned and took off, circling around Yavanna's flower-crowned head. The Valie laughed delightedly, raising one forearm, upon which the owl alit. "Hello, daughter! I trust you will keep watch over my little flower, yes?"

Hedwig crooned an affirmative, bobbing her head. Yavanna lowered her arm, allowing the snowy to step onto a low root and keep watch for the night. The Lady stood, brushing off her skirts, and blew a kiss to the babe before she left. "Sleep well, my flower. I will see you again."