FELLOWSHIP

by CMKM1648

A continued story of Kattie's, Buffy helps the Fellowship of the Ring.

1. Default Chapter

SUMMARY: BTVS/LOTR crossover.

SPOILERS: S5 is fair game.

LOTR NOTES: This is more based around the extended version of the movie than the book. My first LOTR fic, so it's probably horribly wrong...feel free to correct me on stuff, I won't mind.

BTVS NOTES: Set during Season Five. No Dawn, no Glory. Joyce is dead, Riley's in Belize or wherever the hell he went.

PAIRING: Buffy/Legolas

NOTE: If you've read 'Colours of Quortoth', you'll notice a bit of a pattern in this fic...just telling you right now that this idea isn't highly original, but it's been bugging me ever since I started reading BTVS/LOTR crossovers.

Disclaimer: All things BtVS related belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, 20th Century Fox, etc. LotR is the creation of J.R.R Tolkien.

Fellowship

Prologue: Nightmares

Buffy stood in the kitchen of her house, her eyes closed as she leant over the sink that was filled with soapy water. It was close to five in the morning, and still she hadn't slept. The self-induced insomnia had been going on for the last week, and she was quickly becoming exhausted from it. The caffeine that she was drinking to keep herself awake was becoming an hourly fix, and the thirty-minute naps were becoming more frequent.

A hand touched her shoulder, and Buffy jumped and turned, her hands clenched into fists, ready to strike whoever had just touched her. She relaxed and shot her Watcher a sheepish grin.

"Sorry," she said quietly, even though they were the only two people in the house. "Just...jumpy."

"I noticed," he replied, his voice equally quiets.

It seemed that after Joyce Summers death, whenever anyone spoke in the Summers household, they always spoke in hushed tones, as though to pay respect for the dead woman whom all of the Scoobies had regarded as a mother.

Giles lay a fatherly hand on Buffy's shoulder, giving the concerned look that he'd given her so many times in the past five years.

"Buffy, when was the last time you slept?" he asked gently.

Buffy sighed and turned away from him, hating that she was causing him to lose sleep just because she herself was unable to cope with the content of her dreams. It wasn't the first time he'd asked that.

"Giles...it's not like I don't want to sleep. Trust me, I do, but...every time I close my eyes, I just..." she trailed off, unable to vocalize her thoughts. Her dreams were prophetic, she knew that much, though she didn't understand exactly what they were about. The things that she'd been dreaming about didn't make any sense to her.

"They frighten you," Giles finished.

Buffy nodded. They did frighten her. The one image that was always repeated in her dreams scared her more than she liked to admit to anyone, even to Giles. But she was terrified of what she was seeing. It wasn't just evil...it was beyond that.

"Giles, if you could see what I'm seeing..."

"I just worry," Giles said.

"I know. I just wish I knew what they meant. I mean, usually when I have prophetic dreams, they're a little more specific. I usually recognize either people or places or...anything, but...I kinda get the feeling that the things I'm seeing aren't even from this world," Buffy explained.

"An alternate dimension you mean?" Buffy nodded. "Yeah. I mean, I don't know for sure or anything, but, that's just kinda the feeling that I'm getting from it. And that fricken flaming lidless eyeball is just so damn creepy."

"We've been researching for days, and we still have yet to find anything even vaguely matching your description," Giles said. "But...we shouldn't be too worried just yet. Usually your prophetic dreams become a little clearer before the event itself occurs." "Let's just hope they make themselves clearer a long time before the event occurs."

Chapter One: Powers That Be

Buffy wandered into the cemetery, a stake in her hand, her feet dragging tiredly. She wouldn't be able to keep this up for too much longer. She was tempted to just give into her body's demands and sleep, even if it meant having the accursed nightmare.

She meandered through the headstones, stopping at a fresh grave that Giles had suggested she inspect. Sure enough, she was there just in time for a new fledgling to rise. She staked it before it was even entirely out of the ground.

The easy kill made it simple for the Slayer to fall into a state of lethargy, and the only reason she even noticed the vampire tackle her from behind was the fact that she was suddenly sprawled across the grass, green grass stains covering her light blue denim jeans. She forced herself to snap back into Slayer mode, her hand gripping her stake tightly in her hand. She kicked her attacker off her and sprang to her feet. She ducked a punch and jumped a kick and backhanded the much taller vampire, sending him stumbling backwards. His quick right hook caught her off-guard and her face snapped to the side with the force of the hit. She regrouped quickly, anger rising in her body, not just at the vampire, but at herself.

She'd never let her dreams get to her before. She'd never let them affect her so badly. She was the Slayer, not some child who hid under the covers from monsters in the closet. The poor vampire found himself on the receiving end of Buffy's anger, the vamp's face quickly becoming a bruised and bloodied pulp as Buffy lay into the wretched creature. She finally came back to herself and staked the vampire quickly.

"That's the quickest way to get killed, you know," came a voice from behind her. She whipped around, stake at the ready. She groaned when she saw whom it was that was standing behind her.

"What do you want?"

Whistler chuckled and held a hand over his heart in mock hurt. "I'm offended. You're not happy to see your old pal?"

"In a word...no."

"Well, that's too bad kid. Cos I can tell you what those freaky weird dreams of yours mean," he said.

Buffy looked at him suspiciously.

"Let me guess, you've been promoted to messenger boy?"

"Demoted actually," Whistler said. "And it wasn't cos of anything I did. I asked to deliver this message. Thought it might be better coming from a friend."

"A friend?" Buffy repeated.

"Yeah kid. A friend. Someone who's gonna explain why you're seeing what you're seeing when you close your eyes at night. Not that you've been doing a lot of that lately." Buffy weighed up her options. As much as she didn't particularly like the demon that balanced the score between good and evil, she had no real reason not to trust him. He'd given her good advice before, but the timing of it had been horrible. The last time she had seen Whistler was just before she'd stuck a sword in her lover's gut.

"Alright," Buffy conceded. "I'm listening."

Whistler nodded and looked around them. "Maybe we should go inside for this one," he said. "Less interruptions. And you'll probably want your Watcher here as well."

Buffy nodded and the Slayer and the balancing demon headed towards Buffy's house on Revello Drive.
------------------------ Giles, Buffy and the demon Whistler sat in the Summers' living room, a tray of tea, courtesy of Giles splayed in front of them.

"And you're saying that the Powers-That-Be want her to go on a mythical quest to help destroy an ancient ring of evil powers, and she has no choice in the matter at all," Giles said, summing up in a single sentence what Whistler had been explaining for the last half-hour.

Buffy was sitting there in shock. She'd just heard a fantastic tale about elves and dwarfs, hobbits and men, orcs and goblins and other inhabitants of a strange world that Whistler had called Middle-Earth. The stranger thing was that Buffy actually wanted to go. It sounded like something that was a good cause. Destroying the One Ring meant ridding Middle-Earth of evil forever. And if she could be a part of eradicating evil, even if it wasn't in her own dimension, then she wanted to help.

"No, she does have a choice," Whistler said. "But if she chooses not to go, the Powers might make her life very difficult."

"The Powers have already made my life very difficult," Buffy said, hating that they were talking around her as though she wasn't there. "Besides which...it sounds like a pretty worthy cause."

"It's not really your fight Buffy," Giles said.

She looked at him thoughtfully.

"Isn't it? I thought that was what I did. Helping people who need help. Fighting demons, getting rid of evil. If that Ring is the one thing that keeps evil alive in that world, then it needs to be destroyed. And if they need help...I think I should give it to them," Buffy said. Giles sighed, knowing that he had lost. In truth, he knew that a mission of great importance was something that Buffy needed. Sunnydale had been extremely quiet since the debacle with Adam, and with nothing to do except kill fledglings, Buffy had been getting restless. And a restless Slayer was never good. Buffy had lost her focus after Joyce had died, and this was the first instance that she'd shown actual interest in doing something other than her normal routine of slaying and working at the Magic Box. "I'm guessing you kinda want me to go pretty soon," Buffy said, turning her attention back to Whistler.

Whistler nodded. "Extremely soon. Tomorrow even."

Buffy had been expecting that, so she nodded amicably. "What do I need?"

"Weapons, clothes and extremely comfortable shoes," Whistler replied. "You're gonna be doing a lot of walking, and not all of it will be fun. The weather is temperamental over there. And I'm talking hot to cold, to snowing to hailing, to stuffy, to-"

"I get the message," Buffy said, holding up a hand. "So, all weather stuff, big jackets, etc etc. Boots, lotsa socks, and a couple of weapons."

"More than a couple," Whistler said. "I'd suggest your crossbow, a sword, a set of daggers. Standard stuff."

Buffy nodded. Only in a conversation with a demon would a plethora of weapons be considered 'standard stuff'.

Whistler stood and shoved his hands in his pockets. "I'll be back tomorrow. Make sure you're ready at sundown."

Buffy nodded and Whistler left the Watcher and Slayer to contemplate the reality of what had just happened and what Buffy had just agreed to.

Chapter Two: Goodbyes

Explaining to Willow, Xander, Tara and Anya had been excruciatingly difficult. Trying to make them understand that she was beginning to feel useless in Sunnydale had been extremely hard, but one by one, the four Scoobies had accepted what was to happen. Willow had long since suspected that Buffy was becoming slightly bored with Sunnydale. The redhead didn't doubt that the blonde girl loved her friends, but Willow knew that Buffy thrived off being the Slayer. As much as Buffy wanted a normal life, Willow also knew that Buffy wouldn't have had it any other way.

"So...when are you coming back?" Anya asked, surprised by how upset she was to hear that Buffy was going away for an undefined amount of time.

"Uh, we're not exactly sure on that one," Buffy said. "As long as it takes I guess."

"And that's if you choose to come back at all," added a new voice from the doorway. The group all turned to stare at Whistler as he entered the house.

"Don't you ever knock?" Buffy asked with annoyance.

"And what did you mean if she chooses to come back?" Xander asked.

Whistler just shrugged. "Just that," he replied vaguely. He looked towards Buffy, his eyebrows raised expectantly. "You ready?" Buffy breathed in deeply and nodded, standing up. The Scoobies all stood too; Willow the first to threw herself at the Slayer, engulfing her in what would have been a bone-shattering hug for any normal girl. Buffy returned the hug, tears coming to her eyes. She didn't want to consider Whistler's words too deeply. If she chose to come back...

She hugged the group one by one, even Giles overcoming his British reserve and hugging his Slayer tightly before she walked out the door. As the Slayer stepped onto the porch of her home on Revello Drive, she looked at the badly dressed messenger for the Powers-That-Be.

"There's one more goodbye that I hafta do."

Whistler nodded, and they headed towards the Restfield Cemetery.

The Slayer stopped in front of a headstone, immediately dropping to her knees, her hands gently tracing the outline of the name. JOYCE ANNE SUMMERS. "Goodbye mom. I miss you."

------------------------ "Alright," Buffy said, hefting her bag onto her shoulder. "What's the deal? Who am I looking for, where am I gonna end up?"

"You'll end up in a town in The Shire, a place called Bree. There's an inn, the Prancing Pony," Whistler said. He grabbed Buffy's hand and filled it with a fair amount of coins. She assumed it was the currency of Middle- Earth. She carefully added it to her itinerary. "There's four hobbits on their way there."

"Hobbits...they're the little dudes with big feet, right?" Buffy asked.

Whistler nodded. "One of them carries the Ring. Whatever you do, don't ask anyone in the inn whether they've seen them. Just know that they're on their way. Try not to bring any attention to yourself cos you'll be about as out of place as they will be."

"Why's that?" Buffy asked curiously.

Whistler just waved in her general direction. "Pretty much everything about you."

Buffy scowled and looked down at what she was wearing. Hip-hugger dark-blue denim jeans, a black fitted t-shirt, covered by a black turtleneck sweater, with her black combat boots. In her bag were more of the same sorts of outfit, as well as two different jackets, one lightweight, and one that was heavier and warmer.

"Let me guess, they're not up with the fashions?"

"Something like that," Whistler replied cryptically. He reached into the bag he was carrying and pulled out a piece of black cloth. He wrapped it around Buffy's shoulders. It looked like some sort of a cloak with a hood.

"Just trust me on this," Whistler said. "You'll blend in far better."

Buffy just rolled her eyes. "Now, you may hafta wait a few days before the hobbits actually get there. Until then, stay out of trouble. There's a man staying at the inn, his name's Strider. He's been asked by someone to look after the hobbits. Unfortunately, no one on Middle-Earth is really very used to females as fighters, so you're probably going to have to prove yourself to this guy." "As long as he's not gonna be all sour when I kick his ass, that's fine by me," Buffy said. "I was hoping you'd say that," Whistler replied. "Now...for the fun part..."

He again took hold of Buffy's hand and dropped something into it. It was a small silver ring on a thin but strong silver chain.

"What's this?" she asked.

"Your ticket home," he explained. "It won't work until after the One Ring is destroyed, but the second you put it on, you'll be back home in Sunnydale. Or in LA...we're not too clear on that part."

"Joy," Buffy said dryly. She clasped the necklace around her neck and tucked it beneath the layers of clothes. She took a deep breath and looked at Whistler expectantly. "Alright...beam me up Scotty."

"We're not completely done here yet," Whistler said, smiling a little at Buffy's impatience. Buffy groaned and looked at him in frustration.

"There's one more thing," he said.

"Which would be what?"

"Well...you remember what I said about you choosing that you might not wanna come back?"

"Yeah," Buffy replied slowly, not particularly liking the thought that she would willingly choose to stay in an alternate dimension.

"Well, if you do choose not to, then you may need to take this," Whistler said, handing her another necklace. Though this time, there was a silver pendant attached to the chain rather than a ring.

She took it from him, admiring the beauty of it. She'd never seen such craftsmanship on a pendant before. It was in the shape of an angel, the wings wrapped around her body, and a halo in her hair.

"What does it do?" she asked.

"If you want to stay, then you don't have to do anything with it. You wanna stay then just don't put the ring on. As for that pendant...well...it's more than meets the eye. Don't lose it." "But what does it do?" she asked.

"It makes you immortal," he explained. "You put that on, you get to stay there and stay nineteen."

Buffy's eyes widened. Immortal? Why would she want to be immortal in another dimension? "You'll understand when you get there, kid," he said. He clapped his hands together. "So...are you ready?"

Chapter Three: Bree

It was raining. Not just sprinkling, but a torrential downpour of icy water that pelted at her like a thousand tiny knives. She pulled the hood of her cloak up over her hair and wiped at the wet strands that hung around her face. She was outside the city of Bree, late in the evening. It was dark, cold and wet a combination that Buffy had never enjoyed. She sighed and walked up to the wooden gate, assuming that she had to knock. She knocked and a slot in the door opened.

"What do you want?" a gruff voice asked.

The gatekeeper was elderly with several teeth missing, his face covered with water and his long hair trailing in his eyes.

"Uh...I want to stay at the inn," Buffy said.

The gate opened for her and she entered, quickly taking in her surroundings. The town looked as though it was from the Olden Days in England. It was worn down and the buildings seemed to loom above her in an intimidating fashion.

"What business do you have in Bree?" the gatekeeper asked.

"Just passing through," she replied, thinking quickly. "I need to get out of this rain."

He nodded and let her pass by. She huddled beneath her cloak and made her way through the town, the mud sticking to her boots and staining the cuffs of her jeans. She walked through the main street and sighed thankfully when she saw a sign for the Prancing Pony. She entered and found herself in a large pub that was bursting with noise. There were people everywhere, and all of them seemed to look up at the door as she entered. She kept her hood up and her face down, not particularly liking the look of some of the men in the place. It was obvious that the majority of them had had far too much to drink.

She walked up to the counter after digging out the money that Whistler had given to her. She could only hope that she'd been given enough for a warm bed for however many nights she would be there before the Hobbits arrived.

"What can I do for you little one?" came the voice from behind the bar.

She looked up, her hood falling back. The stunned look on the barman's face told her that he'd obviously been expecting a young man rather than a young woman.

"I'd like a room if you have any left," she said, a little nervously.

"Just for one?" he asked.

She nodded. He regarded her curiously. "We don't get a lot of requests for just one room for women around here. Who's taking care of ya?"

Obviously her first thoughts about Olden Day England weren't too far off. "I can take care of myself," she replied. "Do you have a room?"

He nodded and accepted the money from her, handing her a well-worn key. She took it and pocketed it quickly. He handed her a mug filled with steaming liquid. "On the house," he said with a wink.

She took it gratefully and pulled the hood up over her head again. She settled herself at a table in the corner of the pub, looking at all the patrons inside. A figure in the opposite corner caught her eyes. He was doing exactly the same thing she was. His hood was raised, and his face was obscured by shadows. He sat in his corner, smoking, as he watched the people interact. She took a sip of her drink, enjoying the frothy taste of it, the warm liquid travelling down her throat, warming up every inch of her body. She wasn't sure what it was that she was drinking, but it was nice enough to make her drain the entire mug.

From the table beside her, a waft of smoke drifted over to her. She scrunched up her nose in distaste. She'd never liked smoke, and it tended to do strange things to her lungs. She set the mug down on the counter and moved closer to the door where there was a breeze of fresh air coming through.

Before she knew what had happened, someone grabbed her by the back of her cloak and dragged her roughly out the door. She yelped in surprise and tried to cling onto to something, but she was caught off-guard.

Her attacker dragged her out of the inn and out into the alley, slamming her against the wall. Her hood was yanked back and she stared at her attacker defiantly, even as the man, who looked to be in his late forties, held a knife to her throat.

"You're a right pretty thing," he said, his voice husky and deep, as though he'd had far too many smokes in the last few decades.

She pushed him away roughly, startling the man with her strength. He grabbed her before she could get away and again slammed her against the wall.

"Don't you know better than to attack people?" she asked, more annoyed than afraid. She knew she could handle herself, and she wasn't scared of one man.

"You should not be threatening people little girl," he replied, his voice taking on a dangerous quality.

She rolled her eyes and kicked the man away from her, sending him stumbling into the mud. She went to leave the alley but was stopped by a figure blocking the exit. He was looking at her with surprise in his eyes, so she knew that he had just seen the confrontation between she and the old man.

"You're alright!" the man cried, seemingly surprised and almost a little put out that he hadn't been able to come to her rescue.

"I'm fine," she replied, trying to push past him.

She didn't get too far before the man she'd pushed down was back on his feet and running towards them. Buffy sidestepped and grabbed the man's shoulders, bringing her knee up to kick him in the groin. Her 'rescuer' looked on in shock and gave a sympathetic wince as the attacker doubled up in pain.

Buffy elbowed the man's shoulders whilst he was hunched over, the force of the blow sending the man face down into the mud. She placed her boot firmly on the man's back to keep him from getting up.

"You're gonna stop following me," she said quietly. "You're gonna go home, sober up and never bug me again, you got that."

She gave him another kick just for good measure and turned, walking away. The man who had come rushing out to save her was quick to catch up to her.

"Where did you learn to protect yourself like that?" he asked. "From a friend," she replied vaguely, heading back towards the inn.

He grabbed her to stop her from entering and she looked down at his hand before turning her face upward to look at him with a deadly glare. He loosened his grip on her arm, and looked her in the eyes, wondering how it was that he, Aragorn, son of Arathorn, Isildur's heir, could be frightened of a mere mortal girl who was nearly a foot and a half shorter than he was. But there was something in her eyes that made him wary of her.

"I'm glad you are safe," he said.

She nodded and pulled her hood back over her head and went inside the inn, Aragorn following after her. She scanned the room and saw that the man who had been smoking had moved, and her table was once again smoke-free. She sat down, surprised when her 'rescuer' sat beside her.

"Why are you following me?" she asked.

"You intrigue me," he replied. "I've never met a mortal woman who was able to protect themselves from the vagabonds of this city."

She rolled her eyes, thinking that if he was going to continue to speak so formally, she would quickly get sick of it.

"Well, if you're gonna keep following me, you may as well tell me you're name," she said. "I am known as Strider," he answered.

"Strider," she repeated. She looked over him, able to just make out his features in the dim light. He was handsome, his brown hair hanging around his shoulders, his face covered by a well-trimmed beard. He had an air of authority around him, and he looked as though he was not a man that you wanted to trifle with.

This was the man that Whistler had told her would be here. He was the man she had to prove herself to, and it looked as though she pretty much already had.

"Will you tell me your name?" he asked.

"Buffy," she replied.

He nodded and relaxed into his seat, scanning the room. He'd been asked by Gandalf the Grey to wait for four Hobbits who would be journeying to the Prancing Pony sometime in the next few days. He'd been warned that one of the halflings carried the One Ring, a fact that greatly worried him.

"You're waiting for someone?" she asked, seeing his close inspection of the room.

He nodded. "Several someones," he replied.

"Friends?" she asked.

"We have not yet met," he replied.

She nodded and knew she wouldn't get anymore information out of him on the topic. She stood, suddenly feeling extremely tired. Seven days of not sleeping properly as well as a journey to an alternate universe had taken a lot out of her, and she was feeling the need for one of her half-hour naps. Aragorn looked up, a question in his eyes. "You would retire so soon?" he asked.

She nodded. "I'm kinda beat," she replied. "It was good to meet you Strider."

"And you Lady Buffy," he said politely.

She walked away from the table, though she could feel his eyes on her as she left. She walked up the stairs towards her room, shrugging off the cloak and putting down her bag after she'd locked the door to the room. The room was fairly small, but it seemed clean enough. She was just grateful for a warm and dry room. She toed off her boots and crawled onto the bed, sleep claiming her almost instantly.

Chapter Four: Arguing

The following evening, Buffy found herself seated once again in her corner of the Prancing Pony. Though this time, when Aragorn entered, he didn't sit on the opposite side of the room. He walked towards her and bowed his head to greet her.

"May I join you?" he asked.

She nodded and watched as he took a seat.

"How long are you staying in Bree?" he asked.

Buffy shrugged. "Not really too sure. I'm waiting for some...people," she said.

Aragorn nodded, unsure why he had seated himself beside the girl he had met the evening before, but feeling comfortable enough to be seated with her.

"Have your friends arrived yet?" Buffy asked.

He shook his head. "There are travelling a fair distance," he explained. "I was just told to meet them here."

She wasn't too sure how she was meant to tell him that she had been asked by the Powers-That-Be to join their mission of destroying the ring. She was fairly certain if she even mentioned the fact that she knew he was waiting for several Hobbits; she might have found herself at the end of the sword he carried by his side.

"It's good of you to meet them," Buffy said. "I mean, if you've never met them before."

Aragorn turned to look at her, his eyes narrowed, though not suspiciously. "Where do you hail from?" he asked. "Your speech is strange."

Buffy grimaced. Obviously it wasn't just the Ranger that spoke formally. If he thought she spoke strangely then obviously his speech was the accepted form. She'd have to work on learning to speak a little more like he did. "I'm not from around here," she replied. "I live in...uh...the Valley of the Sun."

"I have not heard of it," Aragorn said, searching through the vast amounts of memories he had of nearly every place of Middle-Earth. "What is it near?"

"You wouldn't know it," she assured him.

Aragorn nodded. He knew she was keeping something from him, but then again, he had been keeping his own identity secret for a long time. He wasn't about to be hypocritical and make her explain what she was doing by herself in Bree with no guardians to be seen. "Is it nice there?" he asked.

Buffy nodded. "Yeah, usually. It's nice during the day. At night, it gets...weird."

"Weird?" he repeated, unfamiliar with the word.

"You know, strange, freaky, wigsome."

Aragorn shook his head, only understanding the first in her list of synonyms. "You speak oddly, my lady," he said.

Buffy flashed him a small grin. "So do you."

He couldn't help but smile back, though he didn't know why. Aragorn looked up at the door to the inn opened. His eyes darkened and Buffy turned to look at what had distressed him. It was the man from the previous evening who had dragged her outside.

Aragorn made to stand up but Buffy caught hold of his wrist before he could fully get up. "Don't," she said, softly. "If he causes trouble, then fine, but until then, we assume he's learned his lesson."

Aragorn hesitated but took his seat, his eyes never leaving the previous night's offender. "You are kind to forgive him," he commented.

"Not kind," she replied. "Just smart enough not to get into a fight that doesn't have to be fought." He tore his eyes away from the man and looked at her, startled by the wisdom that her comment held. There was pain in her eyes, and a deep sadness that he didn't understand. Her eyes were familiar though, and he recognized something in her that he had seen in himself.

"You speak wisely."

Buffy laughed a little. "I had a good teacher."

They sat in silence for a moment; Aragorn pleased to see that even though the attacker from the previous evening had spotted them, he hadn't approached them. In fact, he was avoiding any and all eye contact with the twosome in the corner.

"You said you were waiting for friends," Aragorn said. "Do you know when they are coming?" "Probably about the same time your friends are coming," she replied, looking at him to make her meaning plainly obvious.

Aragorn's eyes widened. He looked at the small girl opposite him, wondering what her statement had meant. She could merely have meant that she wasn't sure when her friends were coming, and, as Aragorn didn't know either, they would be there at the same time. A play on words and nothing more. But the look in her eyes said more than that.

"And whom are you waiting for?" he asked.

"I'm not entirely sure of their names," she said. "But, I was told that they were coming here, to Bree. With something of value amongst them. That they needed protection."

Buffy subtly reached her hand up to her throat, pulling out the silver chain with the ring on it. She fiddled with the metallic object, letting Araogorn see it plainly. Her meaning was obvious. She was waiting for someone carrying a ring.

"You are waiting for the Hobbits?" he asked.

She nodded. "I was asked to help them."

"Asked by whom?" he questioned.

"By a Higher Power. I was told that what they were carrying had to be destroyed."

Aragorn almost sighed in relief. She was there to help destroy the Ring. For a moment, he had been worried that she was there to try and take the Ring. Though he didn't know exactly how a tiny girl like Buffy was supposed to be able to help protect the Hobbits. Then again, he'd seen her protect herself the evening before. But that had been against one foe, a drunken man with lecherous intentions. He wondered whether she would be able to defend herself against several hundred orcs or goblins.

"And you believe you can protect them?" he asked.

She nodded nonchalantly. "I can."

"Forgive me for saying so, but I must doubt your abilities. You are but a girl," he said.

Her eyes flashed angrily and she glared at him until he knew that he had just horribly offended her.

"I'm a little more than meets the eye," she said. "If you don't believe me, you're welcome to try and beat me at fighting."

He looked horrified at the notion. "I cannot fight you."

"Why not? Afraid you'd lose?"

"I'd be afraid of hurting you," he replied. "Or worse." Buffy just rolled her eyes. "Oh come on. It could be fun."

Aragorn looked at her curiously. She was deadly serious about wanting to fight with him. Not even Arwen had ever wanted to fight against him. Most men avoided entering a sword fight with him if they knew who he truly was.

"You truly wish to do this?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yeah, for sure."

He hesitated but knew that Buffy wouldn't give in on this until she got her way. There was determination in her eyes, and he wasn't about to disappoint her by refusing to fight with her. He justified himself by saying that he could give her a few pointers whilst they fought. No doubt she'd had some lessons, but he doubted that she was anywhere near as good as she fancied herself to be.

"Alright. Tomorrow perhaps. When the sun is up," he said.

"Sun? You have sun here?" she asked. "I've only seen the rain so far."

"I will find us a suitable area."

Chapter Five: Sparring

Aragorn led Buffy into an old shed that wasn't being used for anything. He had brought two of his swords; having assumed that Buffy wouldn't have any of her own. When she discarded her cloak to one side however, he was completely surprised. She had her own sword that appeared to have been made for someone of her size. She drew it out of its scabbard and spun it to readjust herself to the feel of her weapon.

The sword was a favorite of hers, having been designed specifically for her. Giles had introduced Buffy to a friend of his who was a weapons-smith, and when Andrew Baker had seen Buffy wielding one of Giles' broadswords, he had asked if he could design a sword for her that would be useful to her in all situations. She had been unable to refuse the offer and had ended up with the most gorgeous sword she'd ever seen.

Andrew had created for her a beautifully crafted sword, designed mainly to be used one-handed, but with enough room on the hilt that she would be able to use two hands for extra force. There was an intricate pattern on the blade of the sword, an African tribal design that Buffy had picked out. It had been the design that she had wanted tattooed around her ankle, but her mother had refused to allow her to 'brand herself in such a way'. Andrew had only been too willing to engrave the design onto the sword for her.

He also made a leather belt and scabbard for her, the young man proclaiming that it was the smallest belt he had ever made for any of his clients. It was fitted to her size, sitting just at the top of her jeans with the sword hanging on her left. There were also two more leather scabbards for the matching daggers that Andrew had crafter for her, the same design engraved on their blades as well. The daggers sat crisscrossed at the small of her back, encased in leather so as not to cut into her skin.

Aragorn walked towards her and cautiously took the sword from her. It was light, almost as though it was one of the Elven swords. But the design wasn't anything that Aragorn had ever seen, and he'd seen his fair share of weapons.

"It is beautiful," he complimented her, handing it back. She took it with a smile, well aware of the weapons beauty.

"First blood?" she asked.

He nodded, a little wary of the fact that he was actually going to have to strike her, even in the smallest of ways, to get her to back down from the duel.

He withdrew his own sword, and they began circling each other. Buffy was waiting for Aragorn to make the first strike, but Aragorn was waiting for Buffy to move first. He was worried that his strength would hurt her, so he wanted to gauge her strength before striking at her. Buffy sighed and finally attacked.

Aragorn's eyes widened. He hadn't been expecting her to be as strong as she was. Buffy grinned as she saw the complete shock in his eyes.

Aragorn parried the blow, and moved to strike at her, readjusting his weight and preparing himself for a harder battle than he would previously thought.

Their swords clashed furiously, sweat breaking out on both of their faces. The more they fought, the more they gave. Aragorn was surprised to realize he was using his full strength and still this girl was not only able to keep up with him, but was holding her own better than a lot of the best swordsman in Middle-Earth.

Buffy jumped a sweeping strike of Aragorn's, surprising him completely. He didn't understand where she was getting her energy. Already he was beginning to tire, but she looked as though she could go on.

For minutes on end they danced around each other, striking and parrying, blocking, ducking and jumping. Buffy was thrilled. She hadn't ever had a partner as skilled as Aragorn before. The last challenge she had had with anyone using a sword had been with Angelus over two and a half years ago.

Buffy struck an accurate blow, getting past Aragorn's defenses. She jumped back and stopped all of a sudden. Aragorn too stopped, looking incredibly confused.

"Why did you stop?" he asked.

She pointed to a hole in his shirt; a small cut on his arm beginning to weep blood. "First blood," she explained. Aragorn looked down; his face shocked that a girl, barely older than a child, had bested him at swordplay. He looked up at her and saw her sheath her sword. She grinned at him and moved to pick up her cloak.

"You are a worthy opponent," he said.

She pulled the cloak around her, fastening it around her neck.

"Thanks," she replied. "I haven't had someone as challenging as you in years."

Aragorn was still bewildered. He'd just lost!

"How old are you?" he asked curiously.

"It's rude to ask a woman her age, you know," she said with a smile.

He didn't quite realize she was teasing him. "I meant no offence."

"I was kidding," she said. "And I'm nineteen."

"Nineteen," he repeated incredulously. "You fight better than most thirty year old warriors."

She shrugged. "Probably just cos you underestimated me," she said. "We fight again, you'll know how much to put into it. You were holding back."

Aragorn nodded. "I was."

"I could tell," she commented. "Don't be afraid to use your full strength against someone. You never know how strong people really are, and it's better to assume that they're stronger than you are. That way, you won't be caught out."

She began walking out of the barn-like area, back towards the Prancing Pony; Aragorn following her as they raced through the rain. They made it into the inn and took their table in the corner, Aragorn buying them both drinks as they settled into their seats and began their lookout for the Hobbits.

Chapter Six: Frodo

Buffy and Aragorn sat silently surveying the people within the pub. The door opened, and both of them turned to look. Buffy's face lit up. She'd never seen a Hobbit before, but she was that the four young men who had just entered were definitely Hobbits. They looked young, no more than twenty-five, but she didn't know how quickly Hobbits aged, or even if they calculated years in the same way as the human world. The Hobbit who entered first had dark brown hair and the most beautiful blue eyes that Buffy had ever seen. Buffy turned to look at Aragorn, but he shook his head, silently telling her not to approach them. She sat back, her hood still cloaking her face and watched the Hobbits as they approached the bar. Whatever the barman had said, they didn't look too happy about it. They too accepted a key to a room and settled themselves down at a table that was far too big for them, their feet swinging in midair.

Buffy watched as the Hobbits spoke with each other, one of them coming back with a pint of beer. His friend looked at the mug with excitement and stood up, racing to the bar. Buffy then turned her attention to the other two Hobbits, one of whom was staring in her direction. She listened carefully and could only just make out their conversation over the din of noise.

"Those fellows have done nothing but stare at you since we've arrived," said one of the Hobbits. He was a little heavier-set than the other three, the tallest out of the lot of them. He was speaking to the Hobbit who had the gorgeous blue eyes.

The brown-haired Hobbit turned his head slightly to look in their direction, but neither Buffy nor Aragorn looked away. The barman passed by the Hobbits table and the brown-haired Hobbit stopped him.

"Excuse me. Those men in the corner, who are they?" he asked.

The barman looked over and quickly looked away. "One of 'em is one of them Rangers. Dangerous folk they are, roaming the forests. What his real name is I've never heard, but round here, he's known as Strider," the barman answered. "And the other?"

"Not sure of the name, or who it is. Can't rightly tell with his hood pulled down like that. Not a local, I'll tell you that."

The barman moved past them, and continued delivering drinks to other tables. Frodo Baggins, the brown-haired, blue-eyed Hobbit reached into his pocket and retrieved a small golden ring. He idly began playing with it, his eyes closing of their own accord. He could hear a voice whispering his last name to him, over and over again. "Baggins...Baggins...Baggins." And then he heard his last name being spoken by a familiar voice.

"Baggins?" It was Pippin. "Sure I know a Baggins! He's over there. Frodo Baggins. He's my second cousin, once removed on his mothers side and twice removed on his fathers." Frodo panicked and stood up, racing towards Pippin to stop him from saying anything more. "Pippin!" He grabbed Pippin's arm, startling the young Hobbit. Pippin turned and Frodo lost his balance, falling backwards to the floor. He lost his grip on the ring, sending it into the air.

Aragorn and Buffy both sat up straighter in their seats, reading to chase after anyone who tried to take the Ring who wasn't a Hobbit. They watched as Frodo reached out, trying to get the ring. It settled onto one of Frodo's fingers, and the Hobbit disappeared. The crowd gasped in shock. Frodo found himself in a world of whispers of Black Speech; the people around him seemed to be no more than black blurs. He crawled away from the crowd and set himself down under a table. He yanked the ring from his finger, sighing in relief when he no longer heard the muttered whisperings in the language of Mordor.

His relief didn't last long. He was grabbed by the arm and shoved against a wall.

"You draw far too much attention to yourself, Mister Underhill."

He was yanked up the stairs by one of the men who had been watching him earlier. The second hooded figure walked up the stairs behind them.

Frodo was thrown to the ground in front of the fire, beginning to fear for his safety and his life. "What do you want?" Frodo asked with more confidence than he was feeling.

"A little more caution from you, that is no trinket you carry," Aragorn said.

"I carry nothing."

"Indeed? I can avoid been seen if I wish, but to disappear entirely, that is a rare gift."

"Who are you?" Frodo asked.

"Are you frightened?"

"Yes."

"Not nearly frightened enough. I know what hunts you."

Frodo looked as though he wanted to run as far away from the man as possible. The second figure removed their hood and glared at Aragorn.

"Would you stop being so melodramatic! You're scaring him," Buffy said.

Frodo looked at the girl, surprise in his eyes. He had assumed that the hooded figure had been a man, and to see a girl was rather astonishing. Somehow he felt a little safer with her in the room. Surely Strider wouldn't dare kill someone with a woman in the room!

Aragorn looked at Buffy curiously. "Melodramatic?"

Buffy rolled her eyes, wondering if she would have to explain everything she said. Before she could tell him not to worry about it, the door burst open, three Hobbits, armed only with their fists, a candlestick and a stool, came into the room. Aragorn had drawn his sword.

"Lay off!" yelled Samwise Gamgee, the heavier built Hobbit. "Or I'll have you!"

Aragorn sheathed his sword and stepped back. Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took tried to look menacing even as they shook with fear.

"You have a stout heart little Hobbit, but it won't save you. You can no longer wait for the wizard Frodo. They are coming."

Chapter Seven: The Nagzûl

Introductions were made, and the six of them spread out in Aragorn's room. Merry, Sam and Pippin had taken the bed, sleep claiming them after their long journey over the last few days. Frodo however could not sleep. He stood by the window near Aragorn who was sitting nearby. Buffy was seated in front of the fire, her back to the flames, keeping watch over the sleeping Hobbits.

Across the way in the room the Hobbits were to have slept in that evening, there were shadows moving amongst the beds. A horrible screeching sound broke out, startling the three sleeping Hobbits who all sat up and shifted themselves so they were leaning against the headboard.

"What are they?" Frodo asked.

"They were once men, great Kings of Men. Then Sauron deceived them, gave them nine rings of power. Blinded by their greed, they took them without question, one by one falling to the darkness. Now they are slaves to his will. They are the Nagzûl, Ringwraiths. Neither living nor dead. At all times they feed on the presence of the Ring, drawn to the power of the One. They will never stop hunting you," Aragorn said.

Buffy shivered, not liking the sound of them. They sounded a little like vampires with their description of being neither living nor dead, but if Aragorn was that worried about them, she knew they would not be easily defeated.

"How do we kill them?" she asked from her seat by the fire.

Aragorn turned to look at her, shaking his head. "We don't."

Buffy's eyes flashed with fury. "Why not?"

"They cannot be killed. You can destroy their animals, slow them down, but they will never be truly killed. Not until the Ring is destroyed."

Buffy sighed, wondering how they were meant to have fair fights with creatures that couldn't be killed.

"We should all rest," Aragorn said. "We have a long journey ahead of us."

Merry, Sam and Pippin all sighed and stood up, getting out of the bed.

"Here Lady Buffy," Sam said politely. "You should take the bed."

Buffy looked up at them, wondering why the guys in her world weren't anywhere near as polite as the Hobbits were. She gave them a thankful smile but shook her head. "You guys take it. I'm alright here."

"Are you sure?" Merry asked.

"Positive."

They exchanged a look but gave in, clambering back into the bed. The three of them were asleep in fairly short order. Buffy stood, stretching out her muscles. She went to stand beside Frodo at the window. Aragorn moved away, setting up a space in the corner for himself to rest in.

"You should sleep Frodo," she said.

He shook his head. "I cannot sleep."

"Why not?" she asked.

He seemed hesitant to tell her. "Bad dreams."

She nodded, knowing only too well what that was like. He turned to look at her curiously.

"Why aren't you sleeping?" he asked.

She gave him a quick grin. "Bad dreams."

He couldn't help but smile back. She pointed towards the fire. "Sit with me?"

He nodded and they sat together in front of the fire, Buffy curling her legs up in front of her.

"How long have you known Strider?" he asked curiously.

"'Bout two days," she replied.

"Are you a friend of Gandalf's as well?"

She shook her head. "Never met the guy. I was just told that you guys needed help round here, so...here I am."

"Told?"

She nodded. "Yup. Had nothing better to do, so...I packed up some stuff and came down to Middle Earth."

"Wait...you're not from Middle-Earth?" he asked.

"Nope."

"Where are you from?" he asked, genuinely curious. He'd always found Bilbo's adventures incredibly exciting, and Bilbo had only ever been to other parts of Middle-Earth. Speaking to someone who was actually from elsewhere was incredibly exhilarating.

"It's a place called California," she replied. "Lots of sunshine there. We hardly ever get rain." "It sounds nice," he said, thinking of the Shire.

"What about you?" she asked. "Where abouts are you from?"

"Hobbiton in the Shire," he replied. "It's beautiful there. Green hills and green grass and trees as far as the eye can see."

She looked at him curiously. "You sound like you miss it."

He nodded. "It's strange. I always wanted to go off on adventures with my uncle, and...now that I'm finally on one, all I want to do is to go home."

Buffy nodded. "I get that," she replied. "I wanted to have a more exciting life. I got one, and after that, all I wanted was to be back to normal."

Across the room, one of the Hobbits stirred, snorting in their sleeps. Frodo recognized it as Pippin.

"So, what's with your friends?" Buffy asked. "You guys seem pretty close."

"Guys? You keep saying that word."

"Oh. Uh...it's just slang for a person. Generally for a male, but we use it for females as well back home," she explained.

"Slang?"

"Uh...I don't know how to explain slang. It's like when you use shorter words for things. Kind of like nicknames. You get what I'm saying?"

"Mostly," he replied, hoping he had understood. He shifted and wiped sleep from his eyes, sleepiness finally coming to him. "I'll try to sleep if you do."

Buffy nodded and Frodo stood up, moving to the small area of space left on the bed. He removed his jacket and slipped under the covers beside Merry, leaving Buffy curled by the fire, using her cloak as her pillow.

Chapter Eight: Walking

Morning came, and the rain had finally stopped. The group left the inn, taking a pony along with them that they named Bill. They walked away from Bree, heading into a fairly open forest area with snow covering the ground. Buffy was suddenly very glad that Whistler had told her to make sure she had brought along very warm clothes. As a Californian she wasn't used to snow. The last time there had been snow, it was had been the Christmas Eve that Angel had tried killing himself underneath the morning sun that had never risen.

Aragorn led them, the Hobbits trailing and Buffy staying back with the Hobbits. They were far more talkative than Aragorn was. "Where are you taking us?" Frodo called out to Aragorn.

"Into the wild," he replied, not even looking back.

Buffy rolled her eyes. And she'd thought that Angel had cornered the market on vague and cryptic answers.

"How do we even know this 'Strider' is a friend of Gandalfs?" Merry asked quietly.

"You'd think a servant of the enemy would look fairer and feel fouler," Frodo commented. "He's foul enough," Merry said.

Buffy looked at them, unable to hold back a grin.

"Give him a break guys. If he wanted to kill you, he already woulda done it," she said.

"Oh that's comforting!" Pippin exclaimed.

"We have no choice but to trust him," Frodo said.

"But where is he leading us?" Sam asked.

"Rivendell Master Gamgee. To the house of Elrond," Aragorn called back to them.

"What's in Rivendell?" Buffy asked, looking at Frodo.

"Rivendell!" Sam cried with excitement. "We're going to see the Elves!"

"Are Elves as little as Hobbits?" Buffy asked curiously.

The Hobbits looked a little offended at being called short. Especially Sam who was the tallest out of them, and only a little shorter than Buffy herself.

"They're at least as tall as Strider is," Frodo replied. "Or, according to Bilbo they are. I've never actually met one close up. Sam and I saw some wood elves on the way to Bree. We think they were leaving Middle-Earth for good."

Sam's face turned downcast at the memory of the Elves leaving Middle-Earth. It had made him sad for a reason that he wasn't too sure of.

"How can it be for good when they are leaving? It can never be good," Sam said.

"I dunno about that, Sam," Buffy said. "Sometimes going to another place can be good. Starting over again. Meeting new people. Or new Elves in their case I suppose. It doesn't have to be sad." Sam thought about it for a moment, and whilst he was still a little sad about it all, it didn't seem as horrible for the Elves to leave when there was a possibility of the Elves beginning some sort of a new life.

They continued walking. After about two hours, the Hobbits stopped and began rummaging through their bags looking for food.

Aragorn looked back at them. "Gentlemen, we don't stop until nightfall," Aragorn informed them.

"What about breakfast?" Pippin asked.

"You've already had it," Aragorn and Buffy said at the same time.

"We've had one yes. What about second breakfast?"

Aragorn just walked off, not even bothering to reply to that. Buffy just grinned, amused that she'd finally found someone who ate far more than Xander did.

"I don't think he knows about second breakfasts Pip," Merry said sympathetically.

"What about elevenses, luncheon, afternoon tea? Dinner? Supper? He knows about them, doesn't he?" He sounded panicked, and Buffy hoped that Aragorn had heard of them if only for the littlest Hobbits sake.

"I wouldn't count on it," Merry said.

An apple came flying from the direction that Aragorn had gone in. Merry caught the first apple with no problems. He gave Pippin a friendly pat on the shoulder and moved to follow the ranger. Pippin stared at his friend blankly. An apple flew over the shrubbery and hit Pippin's face directly. He winced and looked at the apple that had fallen to the ground.

"Pippin!" Merry called, imploring the other hobbit to hurry up.
------------------------ They walked for hours on end; Buffy amused when the hobbits began singing at random intervals. They all seemed to have good senses of humor, something that Buffy was grateful for. She didn't know if she could have survived if she was unable to become friends with and joke around with other people.

Strider seemed withdrawn, focussing on his task of leading them to Rivendell. As the sun began to set, they found an area in a place that Aragorn had informed them was called Midgewater Marshes. Aragorn volunteered to take the first watch, and separated himself slightly from his five companions.

As he sang softly in Elvish, he studied the small silver pendant that Arwen had given him. He carried it with him everywhere to remind himself of the love that he shared with the beautiful elf. He couldn't help but frown as he remembered just how much Arwen was willing to give up for him.

"Who is she?"

Aragorn jumped, completely startled by the soft voice in his ear. He hadn't heard anyone approach, and as he turned, he recognized the impish smile on Buffy's face. He scowled at her. "You should make more noise if you are going to approach someone," he advised her.

She grinned unrepentantly. "You should've been paying more attention. And you didn't answer my question."

"Do you wish to know what I sing of, or whom should be credited for gifting me with her pendant?" Aragorn asked.

"Either. Both," Buffy replied easily.

"Tis the lay of Luthium. The elf maiden, who gave her love to a man, a mortal," Aragorn explained, remembering the words to the song he'd been singing.

Buffy looked at her new friend closely. She recognized the look in his eyes. She'd seen it far too many times in her own eyes in fact.

"The woman who gave you that necklace...she's an elf, isn't she?" Buffy asked.

Aragorn merely nodded.

"And, if I remember my Middle-Earth 101, elves are immortal," she continued.

"Indeed they are," he replied.

"That sounds oddly familiar," she confessed.

He looked at her inquisitively, surprised to see that her eyes showed understanding and compassion rather than the pity that Lord Elrond usually gazed at him with whenever Aragorn was in Rivendell.

"Why is that, my lady?" he asked.

She ignored the 'my lady' and focussed on the question.

"I was in love with a man who was immortal," she replied.

"How did it end?" Aragorn asked.

Buffy smiled a bittersweet smile that touched Aragorn's heart.

"He left so that I could have a 'normal' life. Somehow I doubt this is what he had in mind though," she said.

Aragorn nodded. It sounded similar to his own thoughts about what he and Arwen should do. "She wishes to give up her immortality so that she may live and die as I do," he confessed, unsure why he was telling someone who was virtually a stranger about his love life, but feeling comfortable enough to do so. "I would not have her sacrifice so much for one such as I."

"Such as you?" she repeated. "Why? What's wrong with you?" Aragorn looked at her wide-eyed, taken aback by her question. He shook his head slightly, unsure of how to answer.

"I...I have too many faults for one such as she," he replied. "She deserves a man who is not burdened by a past such as mine."

Buffy just rolled her eyes. "Strider, look...no one's perfect. Not even your elf-girl. And, speaking from experience, most girls don't want what others think they deserve. They just want the love of their lives. If you really love this girl...and I mean, truly, would die-for, kill-for, throw-yourself- off-a-building-for love this girl, then that's what she deserves."

He took pause at her words. He had never really considered the other viewpoint to his arguments. While he may not feel that he deserved to be in Arwen's favor, it did not mean that Arwen didn't want him.

"But to give up her immortality for me..." he trailed off, uncertainly.

Buffy sighed and looked him in the eyes, her expression as serious as Aragorn had ever seen it. "I know nothing about elf-girl, but think about it like this. One way or another, she's going to lose you. It's a fact of life. You live, you fight, and you die. Bleak, I know, but true. So, if she's going to lose you, wouldn't she prefer to spend as long as possible with you? Wouldn't she want to spend her days growing older with you? Angel...the immortal guy I was telling you about, he said that immortality wasn't all it was cracked up to be," Buffy explained. "And if I'm right, your Elf-girl's probably seen a few years already. So...if she's willing to give up her life for the man that she loves...are you really going to ask her to watch as you die, and she stays exactly the same for all eternity? Cos as far as I'm concerned, a life without love is no life at all."

Again, Aragorn could only stop and absorb what he was being told. Buffy's arguments made sense. And he knew from his conversations with Arwen that she was willing to give up her immortal life so that she could be with him. It wasn't something he wanted to ask of her, but he was tempted to let her do it. Perhaps it wasn't so selfish a thing to allow it to happen. Perhaps Buffy was right in saying that Arwen too wanted to be with him enough to give up living forever.

Buffy smiled when she saw the pensive look on Aragorn's face. "Night Strider."

Chapter Nine: The Attack

They continued on at the crack of dawn, the Hobbits still in surprisingly good spirits. For hours they wandered over through forests, over hilltops and past rivers and lakes. When the sun began to set once more, they were close to some ruins that sat atop a hill.

"This was the watchtower of Amunson. We shall rest here tonight," Aragorn informed them.

The Hobbits gratefully collapsed, letting go of their packs as they rested their sore feet. Buffy sat down beside them, grateful for the rest. Whistler hadn't been wrong in saying that she would be doing a lot of walking. It was a shame that Middle-Earth seemed to still be in the Middle Ages. A car, even though she sucked at driving, would have been a welcome change.

Aragorn unwrapped four small swords from a bundle of cloth and handed them to the Hobbits. "These are for you. Keep them close. I'm going to have a look around. Stay here."

Buffy looked up at him. "You want company, or should I stay and make sure these little dudes keep outta trouble?"

He looked at her, trying to decipher what she had said. He got the general gist of it and nodded decisively. "You should stay. Ensure that they do not wander off. Especially Frodo."

Buffy mock saluted, and with a shake of his head in bafflement at Buffy's antics, Aragorn wandered away to check their surroundings.

Buffy sighed tiredly and leant against the rocky wall, watching as the Hobbits formed a circle, while Frodo chose to try and sleep.

Buffy looked at the Hobbit worriedly. She had noticed that as they continued to walk, Frodo seemed to lose his enthusiasm. While Sam, Merry and Pippin all seemed to be in high spirits, Frodo seemed more and more dejected as the days passed. She could only guess that it was the effect of the One Ring.

She closed her eyes tiredly, sleep still eluding her some evenings. She was still dreaming of the flaming lidless eye that lit up the darkened sky. She was still hearing whispers of a language she didn't know or want to know. Sleep came easier though, seeing as she was exhausted from the last few days of travelling, but the dreams still plagued her sleep. She sighed and let herself relax, keeping her senses extended in case of an attack on the Hobbits.

She watched in amusement as the Hobbits tried to light a fire, using the most primitive of methods. Striking two sticks together in order to create a spark. It was only after the fire was lit that something clicked inside her mind.

"Put it out!" she whispered suddenly.

The three Hobbits looked at her quizzically. "Why?" Sam asked.

"We're gonna attract attention if we keep that burning," she explained.

Sam, Merry and Pippin all froze at the realization. It was at that moment that Frodo woke up.

"What are you doing?!" he demanded angrily. He leapt up and began kicking dirt onto the fire as the other tried to salvage their food.

A sudden loud shriek made all five of them stop in fear, their hearts beginning to pound quickly. Another closer shriek made them all jump and reach for their swords.

"Go!" Frodo yelled, pushing them towards the stairs. Buffy raced up after them, trying to keep her senses extended. She didn't know how to fight an opponent who couldn't die. Aragorn had explained that the Nagzûl couldn't be killed until the Ring was destroyed, but how could she protect the Hobbits if the creatures were basically immortal.

They raced to the top of the hill, and formed a circle, all of them trying to keep Frodo in the middle of them, as protected as they could be. Buffy drew a deep breath as she took in the creatures for the first time.

They were cloaked in black, there hands covered in metal armor, their swords large and incredibly sharp. They held their weapons like men who knew how to use them. She pushed the Hobbits behind her, and was infinitely surprised when Sam drew his sword and stepped forward to be beside her.

"Back you devils!" he cried bravely, attacking one of the wraiths. He was thrown immediately to the side, and Buffy couldn't help but wince at the thud that sounded when Sam hit the side of the ruins.

Buffy stepped forward, her own sword drawn. She attacked with precision and style, but five unbeatable opponents against one was never going to be a fair fight. One of the wraiths moved past the Slayer, much to her dismay. It easily threw aside Merry and Pippin and moved closer to Frodo. Seized with fear, the small Hobbit began moving backwards, tripping over a stray rock and landing on his rear, his sword clattering to the ground.

Buffy threw aside her opponent and lunged to stand in front of the fallen Frodo. She knew that if the wraiths got to the Ring that Frodo was carrying it would mean the end of Middle-Earth. And that was not something that she wanted to see happen.

"Frodo run!" Buffy yelled, chancing a look over her shoulder at the Hobbit. Frodo looked shocked for a moment, but nodded immediately. He scrambled to get to his feet, but was thrown to the ground by an advancing wraith. In a moment of panic, he pulled the Ring from his pocket. With a split second of hesitation, he pushed the Ring onto his finger and immediately was lost in the world of Black Speech. Only this time, he could see the outlines of the wraiths. They were merely shadows of their former selves. Old kings of the past Aragorn had explained.

The wraith that towered over Frodo reached out a hand to touch the ring, but when Frodo pulled it protectively back towards himself, the wraith drew back his sword and went to plunge it into the Hobbit.

Buffy, unable to see Frodo, but instinctively knowing exactly where the Hobbit was, threw herself in front of the wraith, the blade of the sword rushing through her shoulder. She fell to her knees in pain and the sword was yanked out, a cry tearing from Buffy's lips at the pain now emanating from her shoulder.

Same, Merry and Pippin all cried out in shock and terror, and Frodo removed the Ring, unable to believe that the blade meant for him and gone into another.

"Buffy!" Frodo yelled, terrified that she was about to die.

Before he could stand to see how badly Buffy had been injured, Aragorn leapt into the ruins, a torch blazing brightly as he began attacking the wraiths. With his sword and the flame, he managed to make the Nazgul retreat, the five attackers leaving the ruins quickly, not wanting to be too grievously injured by one of the best-known defenders of Middle-Earth. While they may not have been able to die, they could be terribly injured, and the ones who had suffered from the burns would not heal quickly.

As soon as Aragorn saw that the Nagzûl were away from his companions, he raced to Buffy's side.

"Buffy?" he questioned softly.

She looked at him, her eyes confused and moving across his face frantically. "Strider?"

Aragorn noticed a discarded weapon lying beside the injured girl. He picked it up and felt his heart drop as the blade disintegrated.

"She's been stabbed by a Morgum blade," he informed the gather Hobbits. "This is beyond my skill to heal. She needs Elvish medicine."

Buffy shook her head and immediately regretted it, her head pounding fiercely. "No, just...give me a minute," she whispered tiredly. "Just need to sit. I'll be..."

Aragorn couldn't help but worry. He'd seen people stabbed with a blade from the Nagzûl before. Usually by now a victim of the wound would have been completely incoherent and passing into darkness by this stage. He didn't know how it was possible that Buffy was still nearly lucid when she'd been stabbed.

"We need to get you to Rivendell," Aragorn whispered.

"Well...we're going there anyway, huh?" Buffy replied, slurring her words slightly, feeling incredibly drunk and light-headed. "Works out for all of us."

Buffy attempted to stand, but her legs collapsed beneath her. Aragorn only just managed to catch her and keep her from falling to the ground.

Frodo could hear his heart pounding frantically.

"Is she going to die?" he demanded.

Aragorn looked at the Hobbit, his eyes sad and serious. He had only known Buffy barely a week, but the young warrior had plated herself in Aragorn's heart. He had found a kindred spirit in Buffy, and the thought of her dying didn't rest well with him.

Frodo too didn't much like the idea of Buffy dying. He and Buffy had connected on some strange level. He knew that Buffy understood what it was like to be burdened by a weight that should not have been carried by anyone. He especially didn't like the idea of Buffy dying because of a wound that should rightfully have been Frodo's.

"We have to get her to Rivendell," Aragorn reiterated. "We're six days from Rivendell!" Sam cried, frantic with worry for their new friend. "She'll never make it."

Aragorn could only sweep Buffy into his arms and quicken the pace towards the Elven city.
------------------------ Aragorn and the four Hobbits continued as quickly as they could walk until the small creatures could no longer keep up. Aragorn, who could have continued, and desperately wanted to, allowed them to stop to catch their breath. He laid Buffy down and wrapped her cloak around her more tightly. He placed a cool hand across her sweating forehead, disconcerted by the fever that was burning in her skin.

Buffy opened her eyes, and Aragorn was surprised to see the pained confusion in her hazel depths. He had seen others stabbed by the Morgum blades before, and he knew that usually this far into the illness, the victim's eyes were white.

"Are you still with us Buffy?" Aragorn asked.

"Is it cold?" she whispered incoherently. "Why's it cold?"

Aragorn wrapped Buffy's cloak more tightly around her. "That's the fever," he explained.

Buffy nodded and closed her eyes tiredly. "That would explain the shaking," she whispered.

Pippin approached tears in his eyes. "She's going to die!"

The other three Hobbits moved to stand around Buffy, all of them with concerned expressions on their faces. Aragorn looked to Sam, who he knew, was a keen gardener.

"Sam, do you know the Athenas plant?" he asked.

"Athenas?" Sam repeated blankly.

"Kingsfoil," Aragorn continued, using the more common name for the plant.

"Kingsfoil. Aye, that's a weed," Sam said.

"It may help to slow the poison. Hurry!" Aragorn said.

Sam rushed off quickly in search of the plant. Aragorn cast a quick glance at Merry, Pippin and Frodo, who all seemed content to stand guard over Buffy. The ranger left them to their own devices as he went in search of the plant he'd sent Sam looking for.

He found a small patch not too far from where they'd set up camp near the stone trolls. He removed his dagger and bent down to cut a clump of the weed. He stiffened when he felt a silver blade pressed against his throat. He could only hope that whoever had caught him unawares wouldn't realize that he was travelling with the most powerful object in all of Middle- Earth.

"What's this? A ranger caught off his guard?" Aragorn breathed a sigh of relief. He turned and stood up, Athenas in hand and a smile on his face. Not only was he glad to see Arwen, but he also knew that her healing skills were far better than his own.

"Come," he instructed.

Arwen stared at him quizzically, but followed. The elf was more than surprised to see the young mortal girl curled up in a blanket, her head in a Hobbit's lap as said Hobbit stroked her hair and whispered soothing things to her.

"Who is she?" Merry asked when he saw Arwen and Aragorn approaching.

Sam looked up, and a hint of a smile appeared on his face.

"She's an elf," he explained. He'd never seen an elf close up before.

Arwen knelt beside Buffy and touched the girl's skin. Buffy leant into the soothing touch and opened her eyes. Arwen looked up at Aragorn in confusion. "I thought-"

"The passing is not as fast as it should be," Aragorn explained. "Buffy is stronger that most mortal girls. We have been thankful for that."

Arwen nodded and looked back down at Buffy. "We must get her to my father."

Aragorn nodded and picked Buffy up, leading her to Arwen's horse. He carefully lifted the girl so that she could sit comfortably on the beautiful white creature.

"I've been looking for you for two days. There are five wraiths behind you. Where the other four are, I do not know," Arwen explained.

"Where are you taking her?" Frodo called out, not wanting to lose sight of someone who had saved his life with no real thought to their own life. Unfortunately for him, he was promptly ignored as Arwen and Aragorn slipped into the Elvish tongue.

(I don't know Elvish, but if it's in Italics, it's the translation of what they say...)

"Stay with the hobbits. I'll send horses for you," Aragorn said, not wanting Arwen to ride with Buffy when neither of the women could defend themselves against the wraiths.

"I am a faster rider."

"The road is too dangerous," Aragorn protested.

"What are they saying?" Pippin asked. The other Hobbits all exchanged blank looks, not liking that they were being kept out of the conversation.

"If I can get across the river, the power of my people will protect her," Arwen said. "I do not fear them." Aragorn sighed and knew that Arwen wouldn't change her mind on the topic.

"Arwen...ride hard," he whispered quietly. "Don't look back."

Arwen swung up onto the horse behind Buffy, one arm going around the nearly unconscious Slayer. As the elf rode into the distance, she clearly heard the objecting cry of one of the Hobbits, protesting that the wraiths were still out there.

Arwen could only put her head down as the wind hit her face, and the horse continued at a fast and steady pace. Arwen looked over her shoulder as she heard another pair of hoofs galloping behind them. She frowned when she saw a single Black Rider following behind them. She dug her heels into the horse and urged it to go faster.

They ducked between trees, and over low falling branches, weaving in and out of the forest, trying to elude the wraith that followed them. When they finally hit the river, Arwen breathed a sigh of relief and crossed over the shallow water, thankful that she was finally back on her own lands.

When the horse had crossed the river, Arwen pulled them to a stop and looked back across at the Black Rider who had stopped and pulled out his sword.

"Give up the girl, she-elf," it demanded, it's voice low and throaty.

Arwen looked down at Buffy who was beginning to fade into shadow. The girl was now breathing hard and sweating profusely. The elf could only wonder why the wraith and Saruman wanted someone who seemed so non-threatening.

"If you want her, come and get her!" Arwen cried out.

The wraith seemed to hesitate a moment longer before finally allowing his horse to advance into the water. Arwen began calmly chanting in Elvish and watched as the river began to swirl violently. A torrent of water came cascading around the bend and shaped itself into the form of galloping horses, flooding the river and sweeping the Black Rider away with the current. Arwen smiled in satisfaction, and then looked back to Buffy.

"Don't give in," Arwen whispered frantically as she kicked her horse to continue on their way to Rivendell. "Not now."

As the horse sped towards her father's home, she sent up a prayer to the Higher Powers. "What grace has given me, let it pass to her. Let her be spared. Save her."

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Author Note: I am going to try continuing the Fanfiction as good as job as Kattie. Please be patient this is the first time I have every wrote a fanfiction.