My muse is back! Hopefully I'll get the next HS chapter out soon.

Enjoy AU #1, with Arasion meeting the elves in a way he definitely will not in Harbing's Song.

Just a little bit farther, Arasion promised himself, hauling his body another few inches across the path. Pained gasps escaped him with each movement. Blood stained the ground in smeared crimson streaks, marking his slow progress. There were people nearby. He could feel it. All he had to do was drag himself just a little bit farther, just a little bit more…

Hedwig circled nervously overhead, buffeting his unruly hair with each pass she made over his body. There was very little she could do to protect him—they both knew that—but she could at least warn him if the orcs had somehow managed to track him this far.

Just a little bit farther, he promised himself again, the grim line of his mouth tightening. He dug his fingers into the hard-packed dirt of the path, focusing on the grittiness beneath his nails over the searing pain everywhere else, and pulled himself a few inches further. A wounded sound escaped him; his hand slipped, the nail on his middle finger tearing away from the bed, and he screamed. Hedwig screeched in alarm, dropping to land next to him as he curled up around his hand.

"Ow ow, fucking ow," he hissed clamping his other hand on the tip of his injured finger. It really shouldn't have upset him so much. The Cruciatus hurt more, and Merlin knew had endured that often enough. Not to mention that he was already bleeding out from that orc encounter, and his legs were broken too.

But it was like the nerves in this new, tiny body were extra sensitive to pain, and he couldn't quite stop the muffled sob that escaped him.

Keep going, he thought desperately, the orcs might have heard that scream. Keep going!

He turned on his belly, keeping his newly-injured hand tucked to his side, and managed to haul himself another few inches.

Keep going.

He could hear crashing sounds in the bushes to his side.

Keep going!

He moved another few inches. An orc snarled.

Keep going! Keep going!

He knew he was doomed, but he couldn't quite bring himself to stop moving.

I want to live, dammit!

But as the ungainly, crashing footsteps of the orcs came close enough for him to feel in the ground below him, he closed his eyes and dug his fingers into the dirt, waiting for the inevitable pain to start.

Swish-thunk!

Arasion's eyes snapped open; a startled gasp escaped him at the distinctive sound off an arrow meeting orc-flesh. He looked up, very nearly bursting into tears as the people he had been dragging himself towards suddenly appeared on the path before him, weapons at the ready.

Elves, noted the part of his brain that hadn't gone mushy in relief. Half the group advanced on the orc party with the swiftness of avenging angels; the other half immediately gathered around his prone form, crouching and speaking too rapidly for him to parse out.

Arasion allowed his head to drop to the dirt, exhaustion at last overtaking him. His eyelids drifted shut.

Hands, strong but gentle, wrapped around his chest. A small, wounded sound escaped him as he was lifted from the dirt and into one of the elves' arms. The elf shushed him gently and spoke a string of words he didn't understand. Westron, the tiny, functional part of his mind informed him, and yeah, he definitely didn't speak Westron yet.

Then, a startled gasp and an exclamation of "his ears!" in Sindarin. If Arasion hadn't been in such pain, he probably would have laughed. Thank you, Captain Obvious, he thought.

A hand pressed against his face, and he managed to crack his eyelids open. Two blonde elves were leaning over him; one was holding him, and the other was touching his face. The one holding him was significantly blonder than the other, and Arasion found himself legitimately distracted by the shininess of the golden strands that hovered over his nose.

"Pretty," he slurred, then mentally slapped himself, because what kind of first impression was that?

For some reason, that just seemed to make the elves more alarmed. The hand on his face disappeared, and the elf holding him broke into a sprint.

"It will be alright, little one," the elf reassured him in a panicked voice that was definitely not reassuring. "Hold on, it will be alright."

Arasion was more distracted by how smooth the elf's sprint was than by his injuries. Seriously, he felt only a gentle rocking as the elf ran, not the expected jarring thuds.

It was kinda' unnerving, actually.

Please tell me I'll be able to run this smoothly one day, he thought hazily, eyes once more closing. That'd be bloody awesome.

Blood loss, the tiny part of his mind informed him, and as helpful as that tiny part was he kinda wanted it to shut up. I am aware, thank you, he responded.

You're going to pass out soon, it said. The elf holding him swung up onto a horse, and Arasion managed to open his eyes enough to glimpse a bright blue sky before he lost the fight with unconsciousness.

Thank you, Captain Obvious.