DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters in this story. They belong to Joss Whedon, J.R.R. Tolkien, and their other respective owners.
A/N ABOUT THIS STORY: As you can tell, I've taken several scenes directly from Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Lord of the Rings, word-for-word in the dialogue. This is not to rip off any of the real writers because I respect their work and I am not a plagiarist. This is an artistic ploy to put the reader in the mindset of where they are and is essential to the story. The Buffy episodes used were episodes (6.1-2) "Bargaining, 1 and 2" written by Marti Noxon David Fury, (7.17) "Lies My Parents Told Me" written by David Fury Drew Goddard, (7.18) "Dirty Girls" written by Drew Goddard, (7.19) "Empty Places" written by Drew Z. Greenberg, (7.20) "Touched" written by Rebecca Rand Kirshner, (7.21) "End of Days" written by Jane Espenson Doug Petrie and (7.22) "Chosen" written by Joss Whedon. The Angel episode used was "Orpheus" written by Mere Smith. The movies used are, of course, Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring and Lord of the Rings: Return of the King, written by Frances Walsh, Philippa Boyens and Peter Jackson, based on the books by J.R.R. Tolkien (if you didn't know that, you just suck).
1. Champion:
Wind whistled through the leaves of the trees as a silver disc shined down on a soft, white field. A colossal mountainous region stood next to the field, watching with exhausted eyes. From their position, the Mountains could see what appeared to be a silver spike standing steadfast in the night air, sparkling with the grandeur of age and experience. The spike and the Mountains stared at each other every night as they watched over the land together.
They each remembered a time not so very long ago, when their land had no King. The fates of every race, including men, were grim and defeat was certain. Blood ran like rivers, dyeing the color of the field beneath them crimson. The air reeked with fear; a thick, sickening odor from which there was no escape that choked and strangled the living. Life itself was a dimming flame in grave danger of being snuffed out forever. It was a time of terror. It was a time of nightmares. It was a time of Darkness.
But it was also a time of light: of hope, dreams and heroes. The world had almost forgotten what courage was, what a champion was. Until the day several strangers came to their land.
Some say that it is because of them their world remains. Many speculate that they and their story is merely fable. How could it be possible that strangers from another land and time could mysteriously appear by accident and change the fate of the world? But if it was possible, was it truly by accident? Or was it destiny?
Do people, the Mountains constantly pondered, have an option at all? Are they the rulers of their fate, or merely slaves to whatever direction the wind blows? If they live by destiny, are they bound by destiny? Do the living have control of their lives? Are they chosen, or do they have a choice?
The Mountains, despite their age and knowledge, did not know the answer. But what they were sure of is that some are devoted to their cause, destined or not. The price of glory is high, and there are many paths which a hero can choose. But one breed of hero always chooses the path of sacrifice; a fireman when the floods roll back:
A Champion.
"Are you sure this is safe, Háleth?" a small, female voice asked with a whisper. Háleth, a boy no older than fourteen, tromped across the silver grass of the Pelennor Fields, the path illuminated by the glowing moonlight as the younger, golden-haired girl followed him hesitantly. "We're not supposed to wander passed the Great Gate at this hour! Trouble will come to us if we're found!"
"Trouble will come if you continue to be as loud as you are now, Erendy," the fair-haired boy responded with a whisper. The ten-year-old girl turned away from him as they continued to cross the seemingly endless fields.
"Why are we here, anyway?" Erendy asked impatiently.
"I told you," Háleth replied. "If I am to become a Knight of Gondor, I must be familiar with the lay of my land. King Elessar told me that is what he did. Did I ever tell you the story of when he and I—"
"Killed a million orcs together," Erendy rolled her eyes. "And that you came to his aid in battle. Yes, yes, we've already heard the story."
"Well, it's true!" Háleth declared.
"Of course it is," Erendy answered skeptically as she crossed her arms. "And I suppose you destroyed the One Ring yourself!"
Háleth's face twisted with annoyance as he jerked his head away from her. A few seconds passed as the two children nearly reached the mountainous woods, then a smile curved Háleth's red lips as he looked back at her with a mysterious tone, "You'd better be quiet, Erendy. They say that orcs still linger about the mountains ahead of us."
Erendy suddenly froze, her smile completely gone as she glared at him. "Stop joking," she demanded.
"I kid you not," Háleth grinned, as he also stopped. "It's the truth."
Erendy's eyes remained frozen on him as a dreadful worry came over her, "Don't say that, Háleth!"
He let out a laugh, then continued on, "Come on, we mustn't linger."
Erendy didn't budge. Háleth looked back at her, "Oh, don't be such a child!" She stared at him, unimpressed. "I'm not jesting anymore," he answered. "Everyone knows that orcs wouldn't dare come around these parts. Not now that—"
A snarling roar rang out in front of them as the two children's heads suddenly whipped towards the darkness of the woods before them. They froze in terror; the sounds of their hearts beating could be heard over the rustle of the leaves in the trees. A cold breeze flew through the fields and chilled them to the bone.
"Maybe we should return home," Erendy quietly whispered.
"Yes," Háleth nodded, his eyes still wide. "Yes, that would be best." The children turned away with a start and screamed in horror. An ebony-skinned, drooling, snarling orc stood in front of them with terrible, green teeth and reptilian eyes that gazed at them hungrily.
"Mmm," the orc grinned, "man flesh. And so little. So sweet." Standing a foot taller than both of them, he reached out and grabbed each child around the neck and lifted them off of the ground. "So hungry…"
Erendy kicked the orc in the belly and it howled in pain, dropping both children. "Run!" Háleth shouted, grabbing Erendy by the hand and bolting through the fields. They sped off through the night, yard-by-yard, with their hearts racing as they heard the footsteps of the monster behind them. Háleth looked back in terror to see the orc had disappeared. He turned back to see the orc now standing in the path ahead.
Both children screamed and angled themselves into another direction with the starving orc in pursuit. Háleth had never run so fast in his life as he concentrated solely on the threat behind him. His toe suddenly grabbed a hard rock and he went face-first into the dirt. Erendy stopped suddenly to see her friend had disappeared.
"Háleth!" she screamed. "Háleth! Answer me!"
"Run, Erendy!" she heard coming from a patch of thick grass behind her. She disobeyed his orders and raced towards Háleth, suddenly spotting him as he sat down in the dirt holding his ankle in bitter pain. "Erendy, run!" he ordered, looking up at her.
"Not without you!" she shouted, running to his side.
"Get help!" Háleth declared. A shadow fell on them as the moonlight was suddenly snubbed out. They looked up to see the orc lurking over them with a malicious grin on his twisted face.
"Sweet man-children," the orc hissed, and like a bullet he rushed them. The children closed their eyes in horror to suddenly hear a thud. Erendy and Háleth opened their eyes to see no orc in front of them. Instead, the sounds of a struggle could be heard nearby.
Erendy stood up with wide eyes to see a young woman tackling the orc to the ground with the ruggedness of a man. She watched in shock as the girl kicked the orc in the head, fighting it in the strangest way. She punched the monster in the face, and then hit it again, but with the back of her fist. The girl dug her knee into the stomach of the orc and it bent over in immense pain.
With the grace of an elf, the woman flipped over the back of the orc and shoved her elbow into the side of its throat. The orc finally retaliated, punching the woman's face, but she was not disheartened in the least. She glared at the orc and let out a short, saucy laugh; that of a dwarf. With a wide grin, she punched the orc three times in the head, twice in the stomach and spun around and kicked it in the chest, sending it flying backwards – all of this done in a matter of brief seconds.
The orc hit the ground hard on its back and stared up at its attacker with terror. In between his spastic episodes of fear, he wondered if it could be her. The blonde woman stood over him and pulled a small weapon out from behind her. It's her, he thought as he saw the weapon with abject horror in his eyes.
The woman drove the wooden stake into the heart of the orc as it howled a final howl and then died moments later. She came to a stand quickly with the black blood-stained stake in her hand as she declared with the perk of a hobbit, "And that's precious time that I'll never get back."
Buffy Summers stared at her kill with a pleased half-smile and then looked down at her white blouse in shock. A greasy, black, oily stain dripped through the cloth of her clothes and her face fell flat. "Great," she spat, staring down at the stain. "How am I ever going to get this out?" She glared down at the dead orc at her feet, "Why can't you just turn to dust like normal minions of evil?"
