Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, others own rights to "Buffy: The Vampire Slayer". Tolkien Estate, others, own rights to "Lord of the Rings" books and movies. I borrow characters from both without personal profit.
A/N: An early birthday present for Lamiel. Any semblance of accuracy to Tolkien characters seen here is purely her fault.
Sixth season. Takes place immediately after "As You Were" in Buffy and the very end of "Fellowship of the Ring". Mostly book-verse, a little movie-verse may slip in.
A Little Escapism
Prologue
Spike was not drunk enough. Not to his taste. He'd started drinking when Buffy left and had no intention to stop before passing out.
Unfortunately, he'd only had half a bottle of whiskey left to begin with, and while this might be enough for most humans, Spike was only just beginning to feel the effects. Or so he thought now, gazing balefully from his chair to the door of his crypt.
He would have to get up and walk out that door if he wanted more booze. This thought frustrated the vampire, who was in a more hermetic mood having just had his heart ripped out and stomped on for the hundredth time by the same should-have-killed-four-years-ago woman. The fact that he could still remember her, and the reason he'd opened the bottle in the first place, was enough to get Spike up.
His legs were unsteady, which was encouraging. He also had trouble opening the door, better still. Unfortunately the night was crisp and cool, which returned his senses to him somewhat. His vision sharpened in the dark and walking became easier than it should have been by any rights.
"At least I can get to the store now," he muttered, encouraged by the idea of more whiskey. He took two gainful steps before falling flat on his back.
Or, more accurately, before something knocked him down.
"Huh?" he managed, looking up at the starlit sky above. The alcohol made a more dynamic response – while possible – less appealing. He took a moment to retrace the previous second in his mind, and remembered something about blonde hair.
"Buffy?" he asked, hope flaring that perhaps she hadn't had enough after all. Perhaps she'd decided to come back. Perhaps this was foreplay.
He raised his head slightly. There was an arrow above his feet, pointed directly at his head. Hope burned brighter. The arrow was notched in a bow, and held in place by slender fingers that glowed in the moonlight.
Spike lifted himself up on his elbows. The person holding the bow – while slender and with long blond hair – was too tall to be Buffy. Also, they were dressed in an outfit Buffy probably wouldn't be wearing. Green, with leather boots and a cape. All of which were glowing rather distinctly in the moonlight.
"What is this place?" the archer demanded in a lilting British accent, also unlike Buffy.
"Sunnydale," Spike answered. He found himself quite comfortable resting on his elbows and decided he could perhaps remain here for the night. Assuming this stranger didn't try to kill him. Actually, the idea of violence seemed like a nice antidote to his current depression, as long as the assailant wasn't human. One way to find out.
"Are you human?" Spike asked.
The stranger's brow furrowed slightly, as though uncertain what to make of the question. "You ask whether I was born of Man?"
"Of woman, more like, but yeah."
The somewhat androgynous figure took a moment before answering, though the arrow in place did not waver. "I am an Elf. I was traveling with companions near a river when I became disoriented. I found myself here suddenly, with no memory of how. These grounds are unfamiliar, and the trees…I fear they are as lost as I."
"Okay…So, are you human?"
"No."
"Good." Spike lay back for a moment, letting the night revive him. He closed his eyes, clearing his head. With effort he could erase the effects of the whiskey, at least temporarily, and after a good kill he could go out and get himself properly drunk. Or so was his plan.
"Do you hail from these lands?"
Spike kept his eyes closed as he answered. "No, I do not." He did a flip up to his feet, his landing was slightly wobbly but not so a human would notice, and serviceable for his purposes. Or it would have been, had the Elf not instantly knocked him to the ground again, in a movement so swift Spike hadn't seen it.
"Hey, what's up with that?" he demanded, slightly irritated.
A moment later the creature knelt at Spike's side, looking at him with an intensity that was unnerving, to say the least. It cut through the last haze of whiskey in him, leaving the vampire cold sober. Fortunately the bow and arrow were now holstered, though Spike would have preferred them to this.
It took an immense sense of pride and willpower for Spike not to break eye contact. With effort he said, "Whatcha lookin' at, bloody poofter?"
"You bear ill-will." It was a simple statement, one Spike would have taken pride in if not for the distinct sense that his life was possibly in danger here. And those damn eyes just kept looking at him.
"I don't kill humans, haven't for a good two years. I'm one of the good guys now." He hadn't meant for the words to sound quite so desperate, but there they were.
"It is of vital importance I return to my companions at once. You know these lands?"
"Yeah."
"Very well." The Elf produced a long white knife with a filigreed blade and pressed it to Spike's throat. "You will be my guide."
"Bloody hell."
It was not Legolas' preference to take the dead one prisoner. It was a sign of his desperation that he'd chosen to interact with it at all. For close to an hour the Elf had wandered the nearby wood lost. The Song of the trees here felt jarring and discordant, and he found no sense of place within them.
How he came to be here remained a mystery. Again and again he had retraced the moments in his mind, knowing his only clue lay in his memory. Boromir had returned to the camp looking defeated. He'd admitted to forcing the Ring-bearer into hiding…into putting on the Ring. Legolas had responded immediately, racing with Gimli at his side into a forest that hinted of a pressing darkness but was itself pure.
He had used the moments the Dwarf would need to catch up to leap high into the trees, scanning for disturbances upon the ground that would reveal the Hobbit's location. Then within the trees a fugue had overtaken him. Legolas had felt himself falling and simultaneously rooted in place. The tree on which he stood seemed to pull away from him and yet remain constant. Then he was falling, onto a ground that was hard and more dirt than grass, and all Song broke apart only to reform in splinters around him. The sun disappeared, replaced with night as instantly as though he had traveled through time.
Legolas felt a menace in this place, completely different from the threat of the Ring. It was almost as though the place itself was the threat, and evil beat from within it instead of upon it. After fruitlessly searching the forest for some semblance of familiarity, he left the alien wood to find a graveyard. Stones with unfamiliar markings covered the ground in what could only be a litany of the dead.
He saw the creature's presence here as a product of a poisoned earth. Whatever land this was, it belonged to malevolent beings such as this one. Legolas knew it would be folly to continue on his own as he had, he needed the knowledge of one who lived here. And though this creature was already dead, it seemed threatened by both bow and blade, which made it easy to control.
Now it stood before him, glaring belligerently at the knife Legolas held visible at his side. "Where exactly do you expect me to take you?"
"My companions and I were camped near the River Anduin when we became separated."
"River?" it snorted. "Nearest river's 20 miles outside of town. This place is all desert."
The words didn't really surprise the Elf. He'd covered the surrounding area several times over and understood the climate. Still, he had hoped for at least some recognition to his mention of the Great River.
"I can take you to the liquor store," it continued. "Might help you relax a little."
Legolas' brow furrowed, not quite believing he understood. "Liquor store?"
