Disclaimer: Lord of the rings is naturally property of J.R.R. Tolkien, while Axis Power Hetalia belongs to Himaruya Hidekaz.

A/N: New chapter has come, from the deep dark pit that is my mind. Still no idea where I am going with this, and pretty much just inventing stuff as I go along. I'm not very knowledgeable about Elves or even Middle earth, so feel free to give tips if you feel I'm drifting too far away from Canon.

A very Dwarvish Elf

Chapter two.

Britannia Would Love This Place

Everything had gone wrong, so utterly, utterly wrong.

He and his friends had been separated from their comrades by foul orcs! For a whole night and day they had fought, and then escaped when there was no longer any hope for victory. But, oh! Their horses had fallen one, by one, and his friends had been forced on their knees and into shackles. It was sheer dumb luck that had allowed him to escape.

He gritted his teeth, anger flaring deep inside him. It was all the fault of humans! They had begged for his and his comrades help to defend their village again orcs, and what was their reward? They were abandoned at the most crucial moment! Those pathetic humans cared only about saving their own necks and nothing else. And now- now he could only hang on his steed as she ran in blind panic. Blood was pouring down his face and it was becoming more and more difficult to keep his eyes open.

I'm sorry.

His friends, his poor friends. What would happen to them? Even in his dizzy mind he knew that there was no hope. If he had even a little more strength left, he would have turned his steed and galloped to his comrades aid, not caring at all what would happen to him. But no matter how hard he tried, there was no strength left, only haze of half conscious despair and misery.

He could see his oldest friend's mare running ahead of his horse. Blood dripping down her legs and without rider.

I am so sorry.

Germania didn't congratulate himself out loud, but it was a damn near thing.

It was only due his extensive experience, of roaming around his homeland's forests, that enabled him to find his way out of that thrice damned thicket. It was remarkable, what the difference, of knowing whose lands you were and the sheer knowledge that you had no idea where you were, did to your mind. The fact that the trees had effectively blocked most of the stubborn moonlight pouring through the braches, made the miracle of getting out alive all the more amazing. In the end the small river had been his guiding light. After what felt like hours of swift walking, away from the pack of large wolves and their foul riders, he had smelled water. The scent had been faint but there. He had followed it with best of his ability, and found a river running by a field of tall grass.

With a relieved sigh he had sat on a mossy boulder to ponder his next move. The unknown forest loomed on his left side and the river sparkled merrily in the moonlight on his right side. He could see tall mountains ahead, dark and unwelcoming.

Logically thinking his best shot was to follow the river. Almost invariably humans settled always near water. If he could find humans, he could find a map and finally figure out where he was.

A gust of wind ripped his clothes and hair, bringing fresh scent of nature and water with it. He huffed in annoyance when his braid hit him in the face.

There was a nagging thought at the back of his head. A memory of sorts. He could remember the world he had lived in vividly. The sun shining on crop fields on a warm summer day. The rabbit hunts during harsh winters and many wars that he had fought on his land. The world was still almost the same, just as he remembered it, nature was wild and untamed.

Only it wasn't supposed to be so anymore.

His world had died long ago. He had seen how his forests had been cut down. How humans had built tall buildings over old fields and meadows. World was a very different place now, as it was supposed to be. Humans didn't need to live in forests anymore, they didn't need to hunt. Life had become easier and somehow much more complicated. But this place, somehow, had remained almost the same as he remembered, and it made him feel very nostalgic.

Perhaps humans had enough sense to keep some things unchanged.

Germania watched the ground under his boots ponderingly. Who could have such an old feeling lands. He mentally started going through all his descendants but no, the feeling was all wrong. He was sure he could recognize the lands that had once belonged to him no matter how changed. Next he thought Rome's grandsons but that didn't feel right. The climate was wrong. So perhaps Scandinavia's sons, he knew they had plenty of forests, but… no, this land probably didn't belong to them either.

His ignorance made him feel frustrated and he almost stomped his feet.

Who are you!

The land, unsurprisingly didn't answer him.

Huffing in annoyance he stood up. There was no point, in wasting any more time thinking about these mysterious lands. He still hadn't figured out even how he was alive. Now that was even more pressing concern. Not to forget those ugly demons he had seen in the forests. If he didn't know any better, he would think, that this was all just a horrible nightmare caused by stress. Who knows, perhaps he truly had lost it, no one would blame him for it or even be surprised surely. Rome had that effect on fellow nations and he had been exposed to his madness more that was healthy.

Feeling quite delighted that he had found a way to cast all blame on Rome's back, he started walking towards mountains. Absently he checked that his bow was still on his left shoulder and his axe and his arrows all stuffed under his belt. He had just finished counting his arrows when he heard distant, familiar sound behind him. Hooves of two horse's clattering furiously against hard road.

Feeling extremely cautious he took a hold of is axe and looked warily into the darkness. Clouds were blocking the moon, making it difficult to see more than few feet ahead. However, he soon saw two white horses, one without rider and one with a injured looking man barely hanging onto his steed. Both horses were panicked and foaming from the mouth. He could see many shallow looking cuts on both, blood was running down their flanks freely, dying them slowly red.

Acting on impulse he waved his arms, willing the horses to stop. In response they

didn't slow their gallop in the slightest. Germania started to fear, that the horses would simply run over him, but stubbornly stayed put. At the last moment, the two animals slowed to trot and he managed to snatch both their reins, careful not to drop the rider.

The air was now filled with the noise of the heaving horses. Germania let out a string of soothing sounds, trying to calm the beautiful animals.

"There, there.." He whispers softly to the spooked horses. "Alles ist gut, shh."

The rider, seemingly have exhausted last of his strength, falls ungracefully down to the earth with a pained groan.

Germania approached him carefully. This injured person has obviously come out of battle, that much was clear. And not from the winning side either. Germania can see a dagger under the stranger's cloak and keeps a wary distance. Even if he can't be killed by a sword it would still hurt to get slashed by one.

For now, the rider appears to be unconscious. Long golden hair lays over his face, hiding it from view. Some of the yellow strands are soiled with blood seeping from a small gash on rider's left temple. He is wearing clothes that carried the same kind of earthly colours as Germania's does. The forest green and brown are smudged with spots of dirt and blood here and there, it makes Germania wonder, if someone has tried to drag the man forcibly somewhere. His hands are sullied with black, blood looking substance that makes Germania think of those foul smelling demons he saw a little while ago in the forest.

Venturing closer he inspects the stranger's injuries, he judges them serious but not life threatening. The gash on his head is the most worrisome as it has still not stopped bleeding.

With a heavy sigh, feeling annoyed with himself he rips a section of the unconscious man's frayed sleeve and presses it on the wound to stop it from bleeding. He has done this countless time on battlefields and the old routine brings a feeling of comfort with it. The feeling however, is soon forgotten when he takes a good look at the stranger's face.

What the-

He had seen some very beautiful people during his life. Ranging widely from exotic Egyptian noblewomen with their kohl framed eyes, to the wild untamed beauty of northern men with their braided hair and beards. Beauty was something that changed depending on culture and century. It was something fleeting that never seemed to stay exactly the same. Beauty in the eye of beholder and all that. But this man, somehow, was beautiful in a way that could only be called eternal. High cheekbones and straight nose. Pale eyelashes under graceful eyebrows and long blond hair that shone in the moonlight like a silver river.

Simply put, he was far too flawless to be a human, and that left Germania feeling very unsettled. Could this man look any more unearthly?

That was when he noticed the stranger's pointed ears.

He nearly jumped away from the unconscious stranger. What the Hel was he! Some kind of Fae? Forest spirit? What!

Why was this part of the world only filled with strange beings and freaks. Was it too much to ask to meet some humans. But nooo. He has to run mystical creatures that would probably given any change happily eat him, or something equally nasty. He wasn't Britannia, he didn't get a kick out of socialising with foreign creatures that had nothing to do with matters of state! Not caring that he was acting very childishly he stomped to the river with great temper, and wetted his face with cold water, trying to calm down.

So far, it wasn't really working.

It was just typical! Just his luck to get stranded some distant fairy world where demons roamed at night, without even his sharp sword to protect himself. His bow and axe felt pitifully inadequate in face of a death by magical creatures of all things. The unconscious fae, or fairy or whatever he was, would probably put a spell on him as soon as he woke up. Assuming of course that the whole thing wasn't act in the first place! He had been fooled by the elves of his homeland more than once, and damn him if he once again fell to their malicious tricks!

He jumped, startled, when one of the horses nudged him gently with its nuzzle. Dear Woden, he had almost forgotten the poor creatures in favour of treating the odd fairy. Concerned, he wiped most of the blood off from both of the horses, careful not to cause any more damage. Luckily their legs were mostly unharmed, but they had many cuts, although most had thankfully stopped bleeding. Both of them were young mares, and seemed relieved to get the blood off of them. The slightly smaller one of the horses went as far as lean on him, and start snoring quietly from exhaustion.

He patted the mare's flack amused, but froze when he heard muffled moaning coming from where he had abandoned the odd fairy. He shoot a glare at the slightly moving figure, instantly on guard. The stranger certainly sounded like he was in real pain, but then again he could be faking it. Cautiously Germania crept closer, ready to kick stranger's lights out, if he did anything funny.

Feverish gray eyes blinked at him in exhausted confusion.

Now what should I do with you?

A/N: End of chapter two. Tolkien's "fantasy Elves" are quite different from the ones Germania is accustomed. His elves are more malicious and like to pull tricks on people. That's why he had a bit of an "It's a trap!" reaction when he saw a pretty elf, because obviously he is trying to deceive him. Also I apologize for possible grammar errors.