One

With a jolt of reality, Buffy woke. At first she was dazed, her vision blurry and her senses dulled. Then she blinked, finding herself gazing up at the sunlight streaming through the trees. There was a light canvas above her head that looked somewhat like a roof, and the cot she was laying in was warm. She stretched, yawning. If this was what that crazy old demon thought constituted one of her quests, she could certainly get used to it. No sooner had that thought come to her than her ears perked almost animal-like as she heard voices getting louder and louder. She froze, assuming a position that she hoped resembled natural sleep.

"And she will not hear our words in her state?" This came in the voice of an old man.

The voice that answered seemed younger, but somehow Buffy felt that that wasn't it. It was smooth and deep, severity dripping in every word, though his words came out in an amused tone. "My dear Gandalf, she could not hear a swordfight with an Orc if it were taking place beside her."

"Her position has changed since I saw her last."

There was a pause and a shifting of fabric.

"That it has, though I do not think there shall be any wakeful beings to listen to us in this room."

"As you were saying, then, old friend..."

The other man sighed. "The time of the Elves is over. My people are leaving these shores. Who will you look to when we have gone? The dwarves? They hide in their mountains seeking riches. They care nothing for the troubles of others." The elf (Buffy assumed as much) sounded bitter while mentioning the dwarves, as if he hated himself for even suggesting the idea. Buffy took care to stay perfectly still, her breathing hitching a little as she strained to listen.

"It is in Men that we must place our hope."

"Men? Men are weak. The race of Men is failing. The blood of Númenor is all but spent, its pride and dignity forgotten. It is because of Men the Ring survives." There was a pause before he spoke again. "I was there, Gandalf. I was there three thousand years ago when Isildur took the Ring. I was there the day the strength of Men failed." Buffy almost didn't catch his next words as she steeled herself, trying not to physically react as her mind raced. Three thousand years? Woah. "It should have ended that day," the elf continued, "Isildur kept the Ring and the line of Kings was broken. There's no strength left in the world of Men. They're scattered, divided, leaderless."

"There is one who could unite them, one who could reclaim the throne of Gondor."

Buffy could only imagine the expression to old-but-sounds-young elf was giving the Gandalf fellow in the small silence that followed.

"He turned from that path a long time ago. He has chosen exile."

"Perhaps... but perhaps our guest who is currently dropping eaves may have some insight."

Buffy's eyes fluttered open and she smiled sheepishly. "Uh... sorry about that. It's not every day I drop into a different dimension."

The two males looked at her with curious (if a little wary) gazes, and the elf (the ears gave him away, in Buffy's opinion) responded swiftly.

"If I may ask, dear Lady, what is this 'dimension' you speak of?"

Buffy blinked, looking at him. Her eyes missed nothing as she replied, taking in his long almond robes tied together by a cord, straight brown hair in part braided back, revealing his pointed ears and steely grey eyes. his skin was smooth and beige, disrupted only by his troubled visage.

"Dimensions. As in, I come from one, you two are from another... no? No bell-ringing of any kind? Okay," she sighed, swinging her feet over the side of the cot and sitting up. She wobbled only a little before standing confidently and facing them. Belatedly, she realized that maybe she wasn't meant to talk about her quest. Maybe she'd been tossed in with the bad guys and she was supposed to be fighting them. Maybe she wasn't supposed to tell anyone that she was here to save this world. Barely quelling the panic that had risen in her chest, Buffy took a deep breath and faced the two.

"How long have I been here?"

The elf looked taken aback at the question. "You fell from the sky, my Lady, a fortnight ago."

"Two weeks. Wait," she eyed him cautiously. "Two weeks ago? I've been here for two weeks?"

"That seems to be the case, yes," the other male replied, fingering his long grey beard. His blue-grey eyes twinkled kindly at her, and she looked away. Something about the his smile made her think that he knew too much, and that her explaining anything would just be a formality.

The hell with it, she decided. If they were evil, so what? The demon couldn't fault her for making a mistake on her first day.

My first day awake, she reminded herself. Whatever.

"So where am I? And who are you?" she asked, trying to delay her own explanation as much as possible.

"I am Gandalf the Grey, wizard." He looked to the elf and seemed to be speaking silent words of encouragement. True to his name, he was clad in long grey robes.

"I am Lord Elrond of Rivendell." The elf looked uneasily between Gandalf and Buffy.

They set their eyes on her. "So I'm in, uh, Rivendale?"

Elrond nodded severely, the two braid framing his face bouncing funnily. "This city of elves is called Rivendell. It is here you have been for the last two weeks, and of course Rivendell is a part of Middle Earth."

Buffy huffed in short confusion, running a hand through her hair. "Since you've been so kind... I'm Buffy, the Vampire Slayer. I, uh... I guess the whole falling-from-the-sky thing, as you've guessed, means I'm from another world. It's very different. We don't have elves, for one," she offered, nodding towards Lord Elrond. "Or dwarves. Or, uh, Orcs. We have people, though. And demons. Lots of demons. Ghosts. Witches. Leprechauns. Actually, no, no leprechauns," she corrected herself. "And , uh, vampires. Who I slay, so... any questions?"

"A few," Lord Elrond replied, his lips tightening in a way that made Buffy think he didn't like her too much.

"Yes, what are vampires?" Gandalf asked, smiling that curious smile that made her uncomfortable but also made her think that if he offered a cookie she'd take it.

"They're uh... dead people who come back to... life..." After seeing the look on Elrond's face, she rushed forward with her explanation. "They're kind of like the undead. They're strong and cold and their faces change into this bumpy mess when they're fangs are out. They feed on human blood to survive, but you can kill them with a wooden stake to the heart. Which is what I do. Vampire Slayer." She chuckled nervously, pointing to herself. "But, you know, I also slay other things. Monstrous things. I, um... I banished a god once! Or, uh, goddess, I guess. She kind of deserved it though." Buffy coughed before continuing. "So, anyway... I'm here because of some things I have to do. Preferably save this world, and then it's onto the next one for me. Sorry if I'm a little haphazard, but this is my first dimension quest, so..."

The males looked at one another, as if having some unspoken argument. After a few anxious minutes of silence, Gandalf broke it.

"I should very much like to think that you will be of use to our cause, Lady Buffy. The free peoples of Middle Earth are under threat from the Lord of the land of Mordor, Sauron, who seeks to destroy everything that stands in his path of ruling Middle Earth by enslaving us all."

Buffy nodded. "Makes sense. It's only been a century and a half since we abolished slavery but, uh, the general consensus is 'slavery bad, freedom good.'"

Elrond made a noise that in a less graceful creature would have qualified as a snort. "It's settled, then. You will join our Council as we decide what to do with the One Ring."

Buffy blinked. "I think I'm missing something here."

"The One Ring was forged by Sauron to control the free peoples, and it must be destroyed if we are to undermine his power."

"And how do we destroy it?"

"So soon after waking do you refer to yourself and others you have yet to meet in a collective 'we,'" Elrond noted.

"I'm here to save the world," Buffy said with a shrug. "If I need a lesson in catching things people say in the hopes of unraveling their master plan to trick all the good guys (which, let's be clear, doesn't exist), I'll give you a holler." The words might have been a little abrasive, but Buffy wasn't really a morning person anyway. Might as well advertise it.

Despite being told off by a short blonde, Elrond looked rather pleased. "Very well. I shall have a meal sent up for you. Do join us in the common area once you have fully regained your strength. Gandalf will be by to collect at such a time." He shot Gandalf a smug look and turned to leave. He stopped before stepping into the hallway, swiveling back. "It was nice to make your acquaintance, Lady Buffy." And with those words, he left, with Gandalf following after dipping his head in deference, the twinkle in his eye still as lively as before.

Buffy sat on the bed, pulling her knees up to her chest and thinking. When she looked around the room, she saw a dresser, stacks of scrolls filling a glass case, a rug of almond white covering most of the white stone floor. There were no windows, because the openings in the wall led directly to the grove gardens that tumbled from way above her room to below the waterfall she could hear rushing nearby. Nothing seemed temporary, and yet she couldn't help but feel like she was running out of time. She didn't know what would happen to her if she died on this mission, and she didn't feel like finding out any time soon. With determination filling her heart, she convinced herself to see the light in the situation. She was strong, she reminded herself, as well as resilient. She was Buffy Summers, and Buffy Summers was a force to be reckoned with.

Her thoughts were interrupted as a meek woman entered the room. She was in a long blue gown that billowed around her as she walked. Her skin was fair, her hair dark, her eyes a calm grey. She didn't seem like a servant; rather, a noblewoman who did not indulge in the finer things in life. She carried a plate of food, though, so Buffy tucked away her suspicions for later.

"Hello," Buffy said, mouth watering at the prospect of food.

"Hello, Lady Buffy. I am Arwen." She offered no other explanation. Instead, she offered the plate of sustenance and smiled.

Thinking manners to be irrelevant given her ravenous state, Buffy dove in, eating perhaps an unhealthy (and therefore quite unseemly) amount before stopping herself. She could have eaten more, but she didn't want to be rude (well, more than she already had been).

"It's nice to meet you," she said quietly, collecting her thoughts once more.

"It is also nice to meet you," Arwen said with a soft smile.

After a few minutes of thankful silence (Buffy and Arwen were mostly just enjoying each other's silent company, as women sometimes actually do instead of all the gossiping men often accuse them of), a familiar face poked into the room. Gandalf bowed his head slightly towards the two women and Arwen took that as her cue to leave.

"Lady Arwen," he murmured in acknowledgement. After she'd gone, he acknowledged Buffy. Buffy stood, proceeding to follow him through the halls of the House of Elrond until they arrived at a meeting place. She assumed this was the Council they had mentioned earlier, and took a seat next to Gandalf. Eyes turned to her in curiosity, and she fought a blush as she looked away, focusing her gaze instead on the center stone pillar-type thing in the middle of the room. For a room, it was rather roomy; like the room where she'd woken up, there were gaps instead of windows, and she could clearly see the falling autumn leaves against the breathtaking backdrop that was the landscape from her angle. She was suddenly wishing for Willow, and a pang of regret stabbed her before she reminded herself that Willow was one of the reasons she was doing this at all. She wished Arwen could have been here, but what would the girl do except hold her hand and keep quiet? Still, she wished there were a familiar face besides the enigmatic (and admittedly alliterative) Gandalf the Grey.

She watched in silence as people (a term she used loosely now, since there were short people she guessed were dwarves present, as well as elves) filed in and conversed among one another. The warrior in her couldn't help but assess her peers. She analyzed each figure for strengths and weaknesses. The stronger fighters were harder to find weaknesses for since hubris wasn't always the case, so she took it upon herself to stealthily keep a few in her observation. A short man sat on Gandalf's other side, but she didn't think him a dwarf. He wasn't stout enough for that. He looked tired though, so Buffy assumed that the journey to Rivendell must have taken some toll on him. He didn't look like much of a fighter, so she was curious as to his true purpose at the Council.

Before she was able to consult herself deeper on the matter, Elrond called order to the meeting.

"Strangers of distant lands," he announced, his gaze flicking towards Buffy for a split moment before continuing, "friends of old. You have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor. Middle-earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite, or you will fall." He looked around at them severely, the seriousness of his tone apparent in every syllable.

"What a dramatic," Gandalf mumbled to Buffy under his breath. She stifled a snort.

Elrond glared at Gandalf before continuing. "Each race is bound to this fate. To this doom." For a moment Buffy thought with building panic that he was turning towards her, but he addressed the short brunette next to Gandalf. "Bring forth the ring, Frodo." He gestured for him to step forward.

The small man with the curly brown hair stepped forward and placed a small gold ring in the middle of the center stone. He then sat back down.

It didn't look like much: the ring was a single gold band without inscription or embellishment, but regardless Buffy felt a tug in her gut towards it. She wanted it—no, she needed it and it needed her. She was the only one powerful enough to take it. She could use it for so many...

Buffy shook her head, wondering where in the world those thoughts had come from. Now that she looked at it, it wasn't really something to look forward to having. She was wondering where her burning desire had come from when she looked up at the voices. Apparently people were surprised that the One Ring was now in their reach.

"It is a gift," some armored guy with flat brown hair was saying, stroking his shapely beard. He looked strong and had brutish features. Buffy had classified him as a strong fighter. "A gift to the foes of Mordor!" His eyes lit with almost greedy enthusiasm that was reflected in his next words. He stood as if to emphasize his words. "Why not use this Ring? Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, held the forces of Mordor at bay... by the blood of our people are your lands kept safe." He seemed to be guilt-tripping them into giving it to him, which Buffy gathered would have been very clever if it weren't so obvious. "Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy; let us use it against him!"

"You cannot wield it," a voice cut in, making Buffy noticeably jump. How had she not noticed the hooded figure sitting directly across from her? Had she been so consumed by not drawing attention that she hadn't noticed anyone else who was doing the same? His hood fell back, and would have revealed his face if he hadn't been leaning back in slight shadow. "None of us can," he added, sounding oddly authoritative for someone not leading a band of people. Light filled his features as his face was interrupted by sunlight, and Buffy couldn't believe that she hadn't noticed a completely handsome stranger quite literally right before her eyes. She felt a bit guilty, so she listened to what he was saying extra hard: "The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master."

His tone wasn't lost on the other man, who turned and replied coolly, if a little condescendingly, "And what would a ranger know of this matter?"

The beautiful man took the higher path and didn't respond, and the other guy's lips quirked in a small, victorious smugness.

A blonde elf stood tall, apparently friends with the handsome man and quick to defend his friend. "This is no mere ranger," he declared. "He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance."

This whole deal was lost on Buffy, but it seemed to have some significance to the other guy because then he said, "Aragorn? This is Isildur's heir?" His disbelief clouded his features and filled his tone.

"And heir to throne of Gondor," he pressed indignantly.

Aragorn said something to his elf friend in a language that Buffy didn't recognize as the other man grumbled defiantly, "Gondor needs no king." Both elf and man sat down again.

"Aragorn is right," Gandalf declared, abruptly ending the petty contention. "We cannot use it."

"You have only one choice," Elrond agreed. "The Ring must be destroyed."

"Then what are we waiting for?" a dwarf asked gleefully, standing and swinging his axe down upon the Ring. With a thunderous crack, the axe shattered into pieces. The wedges of blade fell around the unscathed ring, and Buffy's mouth fell open in awe.

"The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli, son of Gloin, by any craft that we here possess." His words were lightly admonishing. "The ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom... only there can it be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor, and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came. One of you," he said, looking around the room, "must do this."

The bearded man from before was the first to break the silence that followed Elrond's words: "One does not simply walk into Mordor. Its black gates are guarded by more than just Orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep, and Great Eye," he said, making a gesture with his hand that roughly resembled the shape of an eye, "is ever watchful. It is a barren wasteland, riddled with fire and ash and dust... the very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with ten thousand men could you do this. It is folly."

"Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond has said? The Ring must be destroyed!" The angry blonde elf got to his feet.

"And I suppose you think you're the one to do it," jeered the dwarf from before.

"If we fail, what then?" the brutish man argued bitterly, standing once more. "What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?"

The dwarf rushed to his feet, declaring, "I will be dead before I see the Ring in the hands of an elf!"

This seemed to set off the elves, who stood as if to fight despite the blonde elf's attempt at staying their rage. The dwarves soon followed, and then the men. The entire room broke out in argument, each male bickering pointlessly. Buffy jumped up, breaking apart those who looked ready to come to blows. Even Gandalf, it seemed, was not immune to the stupidity of the discourse.

"I will take it... I will take it!" the short brunette man, Frodo, exclaimed at the top of his lungs. The argument quieted, and all faced him. Buffy tried to keep the dubiousness out of her expression. "I will take the ring to Mordor." He didn't seem to confident, but Gandalf's encouraging eyes prompted him to continue in a quieter tone. "Though... I do not know the way," he admitted.

Gandalf walked over to him, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins. As long as it is yours to bear."

Hotstuff Aragorn stepped forward, kneeling before the impossibly short man. "If by my life or death I can protect you, I will," he promised. "You have my sword."

"And you have my bow." The blonde elf was quick to follow his friend.

"And my axe," said Gimli the dwarf, something like pride in his light brown eyes.

"You carry the fate of us all, little one," said the bearded man. He looked around at everyone. "If this is indeed the will of the Council, then Gondor will see it done." He nodded as if to affirm his place.

Seizing her opportunity, Buffy spoke for the first time. "You have my protection, Frodo." She stepped forward out of Gandalf's shadow, her back straight with pride. She said in a low voice so only those nearest could hear, "I don't have a weapon yet, but then again, I am the weapon."

They all gave her weird looks, but Frodo smiled brilliantly up at her, his blue orbs screaming sincerity. He dipped his head in a slight bow even though he was already much shorter than her. "It is an Honor, fair Lady, to have you by my side."

"Here!" a voice called out suddenly. The bushes outside the room shook and out popped another impossibly short man. "Mr. Frodo's not going anywhere without me!" he declared.

"No, indeed," said Elrond with a hint of amusement. "It is hardly possible to separate you... even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not."

Two other short ones popped out from another bush. "Oi! We're coming too!" said one. "You'll have to send us home tied up in a sack to stop us."

Elrond swiveled to face them and looked more than ready to do just that when the other panted, "Anyway... you need people of intelligence on this sort of mission. Quest. Thing." He nodded, overconfident.

"Well, that rules you out, Pip," said the first. The second man frowned.

"Ten companions," Elrond said with a nod, his tone insightful. "So be it. You shall be the 'Fellowship of the Ring.'"

"Again with the dramatics," Buffy whispered to Gandalf, who responded with a chuckle.

"Great," said the second shortie, referred to as 'Pip' by the other. "Where are we going?"

The room burst in laughter, and Buffy was no exception. The council dispersed and the others went about their own business until only the ten companions and Elrond remained.

"If you have not been formally introduced, I shall not keep you in waiting much longer," said Elrond. Gandalf held up a hand to stop him.

"Allow me, old friend. I'm sure you have other businesses to attend to, this being your House." Elrond didn't miss the mischievous glint in the old wizard's eye, but bid them all adieu regardless. "You all know me as Gandalf the Grey. Dare I assume that I need no introduction?" There was a collective nod going all around the circle. Even Buffy joined in, not to eager to be left out.

"First, our Ringbearer, Frodo Baggins, accompanied by Samwise Gamgee." He gestured to Frodo, then to the first short man to jump out from the bushes. They nodded shyly at the others, Buffy included. "Then we have Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took. All Hobbits of the Shire." The latter part meant nothing to Buffy, but the others nodded in understanding.

"Ah, just Merry, Gandalf," said one of the Hobbits the wizard had just introduced. He gave a toothy grin that unsettled Buffy and made her feel like he'd just done something that he should have been scolded for. "And this here's old Pippin, Pip if you haven't got the time." The other Hobbit smiled genuinely and waved.

"You're not wearing any shoes," Buffy blurted out, just now noticing four pairs of hairy feet. She then looked ready to off herself because of the looks she was getting.

"We're Hobbits. I don't think Hobbits have worn slippers for a few good hundred year," Pippin said, looking around at his fellow Hobbits. They seemed to agree with him.

"You're not wearing shoes either, Miss," Samwise pointed out. Then his face took on a look of horror as he realized he'd been rude from the frown on her face. "I'm so- forgive the impertinence, my Lady—"

Buffy looked down. Despite Samwise's assessment, she'd been frowning for a different reason. She was barefoot? She'd had no idea. "Am I?" She poked a foot out from under her robes. "So I am! Touché, Mr. Gamgee. You're very right—and don't look at me with those eyes. All is forgiven and forgotten." She smiled at him generously, letting him know that she didn't think him rude at all. Buffy didn't know what was happening with her speech, but it seemed like she was speaking in the vernacular of this world: her words were more formal and way more verbose than usual.

Verbose? Verbose? Where had that come from?

"Right." Buffy suspected that Gandalf was resisting the urge to roll his eyes. She flushed in embarrassment, hoping they'd forget that little outburst. "And this is Aragorn, as you all know from his rather unflattering debut in front of the entirety of the council." He shot a lightly critical look at the blonde elf and the bearded man with the flat brown hair. Both males locked eyes and then looked away, in pure distaste of one another.

"Hello," Aragorn said politely, nodding to each of the companions. Buffy felt her lips tug in a smile.

"Beside Aragorn is the Sindarin elf Legolas. He is quite handy with his longbow, I'll have you know. I would not want to be on the end of it." Legolas shot a cool (if a little smug) look at the yet-to-be-introduced bearded man.

"Me neither," Pippin whispered to Merry.

Gandalf ignored the interruption, carrying on. "Our dwarf friend, as you also know, is Gimli, son of Gloin. As Legolas wields his bow, Gimli wields his axe."

Gimli gave a solemn nod to each of the members, his body going stiff when it came to the elf. He heaved something that sounded much like a fake, exaggerated cough. Legolas looked away, playing at aloofness (it wasn't so hard, seeing as he was a lot taller).

"Beside Gimli is our friend from Gondor, Boromir, son of Denethor II who you all know is the Steward of Gondor."

"It is an honor to join the cause. Long have my people suffered at the hands of Sauron and his dark forces. It is fitting that a true son of Gondor fight for the ensurance of their liberty." His words sounded innocent and honorable enough, but Legolas and Aragorn shared a look that made Buffy think there was something in there that may not have been a compliment to Aragorn. Probably the "true son of Gondor" part.

Gandalf didn't nod, but somehow he seemed to acknowledge Boromir's with the smallest bit of respect he owed him. All eyes turned to Buffy and she coughed into her elbow.

"This is the Lady Buffy. I daresay I might not be qualified to give an adequate introduction." Gandalf smiled kindly at her, his eyes twinkling with ferocious curiosity. His expression handed her the floor.

She stepped forward. "It's great to meet all of you. I'm Buffy. I'm here to help. I think that's all for now."

"If I may be so bold, my Lady," Boromir requested while stepping up, "from which place do you hail?"

Buffy shrugged. "Does it matter? I'm here now, and time is of the essence, or whatever it is you say here. We don't have time to get to know each other as much as we'd like. We'll probably end up inadvertently doing so anyway. Let's just get on with this quest. I don't see the point in not resting up for the morning." She looked to Gandalf. "We are leaving in the morning, aren't we?"

"I should think so, if the stars are in our favor."

Buffy grimaced. "The stars are rarely in my favor." She looked at Frodo and sent him what she hoped was a hopeful smile. "Let's hope you have better luck."

And with that, the band disbanded. Aragorn and Legolas stalked off somewhere together, while the four Hobbits (Buffy still wasn't sure what they were) skipped away. Gimli, son of Gloin, muttered something about trying his luck with gamble on a dwarf vs. elf duel, and Gandalf and his cane sought Lord Elrond. Sighing softly, Buffy exited the hall and started down a winding path that she felt instinctively would lead her to the waterfall. She heard footsteps following cautiously (and very, very quietly) behind her. Finally, she stopped at a grassy clearing and spoke in a loud, clear voice.

"You can come out now. You've been tailing me since the meeting area."

She wasn't too surprised to find Boromir emerge from the trees looking sheepish. "My Lady has the ears of an elf. I was not within earshot... not within the earshot of a Man, that is."

Buffy sat down on the grass, letting the robes she'd been lent splay around her as if she were in the middle of the sea, a lone island floating in all the blue. "I am a woman," she teased, grinning up at him. "You can't possibly have the same expectations for a woman as you do for a man. That's a little shifty. It's like saying, 'oh, you poor fishies can't climb trees like... like animals that can climb trees can.'"

"Squirrels?" he offered, his fighter stance not relaxing.

She nodded. "Or bears."

He looked doubtful. "Bears can't climb trees."

"Have you ever seen one try?"

He paused. "No," he admitted after a moment.

"Exactly. Where I come from, it's a common occurrence."

"Your bears climb? For what reason?"

She shrugged. "Food. Fun. Maybe a little bit of both."

"And where is this land where bears climb great oaks?"

She fixed him with a playful glare. "Ha, ha. Nice try. You're about as subtle as a bear climbing a tree."

"You are not wrong, fair maiden." He sat down across from her, seeming a lot more relaxed than he'd been a minute ago.

"Why the fixation on where I'm from?" she asked.

"Why the evasion of the subject?" he shot back.

She held up her hands in defense. "It was just a question."

"So it was," he replied. She noted that his tone needing a desperate defrosting if he hoped to continue talking to her.

Buffy didn't answer, instead picking a dandelion from the ground and playing with it in her palm.

He sighed after a minute. "Forgive me, my Lady. I was taught that a Man's origin gave weight to his character, and that a Man who evaded the simplest of questions could not have the best interests of others at heart.

"Perhaps that is true of men," she replied, invoking his icy tone from before. Whatever this guy thought he was doing, she definitely wasn't going to let it work. "I could very well lie, and you'd be more satisfied with a false answer than an honestly blank one."

"Forgive me," he tried again. "I must remember to tread softly when it comes to you, fair Lady. I know I am undeserving of the softness of your heart, but if I may only ask... why is it that you have joined this quest?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I see reason for the Hobbits: the Ringbearer must depend on his friends if he is to carry the treacherous burden that is the One Ring; the elf and dwarf must remain to represent their respective races; the ranger, as much as I do not care to say, knows the land and has talent seeking those he needs; the wizard provides comfort, warmth, and knowledge; I represent men and the crest of Gondor. What is it that you do for this so-called 'Fellowship of the Ring'?"

"Perhaps I represent women," she proposed, feigning thoughtfulness.

He snorted. "If you were to represent women, you would not be here," he argued. "There are few uses of women in war."

The slow-burning flames in Buffy's eyes broke their barriers, and her expression became civilly livid. "On the contrary," she spat venomously, "as men die in the fight, women take on all the work that men leave behind, including the care for posterity. As men fight left and right in the most obvious way, women keep the country going. Maybe in this land you won't see the true uses of a woman as you're constantly at war, but do consider this: if not for women, you wouldn't have anything to fight for." Passion flooded her words, and Boromir was surprise at her vehemence. "I assure you, women fight. We fight harder and longer and with more blood on our hands than you will ever know, Boromir, son of Denethor. I fight the fight every day, and yet I still get misogynistic pigs like you asking me if I'm useful. Though I haven't proven my trustworthiness yet, dear sir," her voice had taken on a severe sarcastic bitterness as she said this, "trust me when I say that when you see me fight, whether it's in the obvious way that men do or the subtle way of women, you will not know that there is a better man or woman than the woman you see before you."

"My Lady is tired," Boromir said after collecting himself. "If—"

"I am not tired," Buffy snapped, scrambling to her feet. "I am correct, which is not a synonym for tired unless you're as dense as a fish trying to climb a tree." She stormed away from the clearing, her gown billowing around her and giving the effect of wading through ocean waves (even though the gown slowed her down, it only made her that much more determined to get away from Boromir). She felt only a little repentant that she hadn't gotten up close to the waterfall, but she supposed there'd be time for that later. Right now, she had to make a point.

She didn't know exactly where her feet were carrying her, but she didn't exactly care. It seemed that the walkways of Rivendell new where she was going so that she didn't have to. She liked the city; it felt alive, and full of old magic. Since Willow's brief intermission as a powerful and destructive overlord (or was it overlady?) of magic, Buffy wasn't one to shy away from benevolent variations of sorcery. Rivendell was a place of magic: that much was certain. She vaguely recalled that Elrond had mentioned the elves having some kind of magic. She was lost in thought and homesickness when she saw a familiar face turn into the path.

"Arwen," she acknowledged with a smile.

The girl dipped her head in respect. "Lady Buffy. How does the day find you?"

"Well," Buffy replied cheerfully. Something about the girl made her feel calm. It was like having an actual friend. "Although, I did defend women to that pompous Steward-prince."

Arwen smiled, a light laugh escaping her lips. "I daresay you taught him a lesson." She gestured to the path she'd just gone down. "Come, I have been seeking you. We must be sure you are ready for your journey tomorrow."

Buffy huffed quietly in relief. "No offense, but... this gown is a bit much for me. I don't get the feeling I'm meant to travel with haste in it."

A laugh lit up Arwen's eyes, but the fair elf just nodded with a sheepish grin. "The color suits you, my Lady, but I did not think you would wear it in the long term." She lifted her skirt and began to gracefully rush to the room Buffy had used before. "Come, we must fit you."

Buffy followed (though much less gracefully) and was relieved to see an array of weapons on the bed. "Oh, thank God," she said, taking the ribbon that had kept her hair in braids and fashioning a makeshift up-do. "I was starting to think I'd only have my fists to assist me."

"The elves are known for generosity," Arwen commented. "Though just between you and I," she said in a more hushed tone with an air of mischief, "I think my father just likes to be able to say he helped for the sake of all Eldar politically." Her face flushed, her fair skin tainted by her embarrassed blush.

"Who's your dad?" Buffy asked, amused.

She frowned. "I thought you were told. My father is Lord Elrond."

"Oh," Buffy said, inclining her head to privately reflect on that. "Isn't he, like, over three thousand years old?"

"I'm nearly twenty-eight hundred," she pointed out.

"Oh," was all Buffy could say.

"Arwen," said a voice from the doorway. Her face noticeably brightened and she rushed to the door, her grace hindered only slightly by enthusiasm. Buffy turned and saw Aragorn nod in her direction in acknowledgement before speaking in a low voice. If Buffy had normal hearing, she probably wouldn't have heard their words. But Buffy was anything but normal.

"I should very much like to speak with you, my Lady," Aragorn was saying.

"I cannot abandon Lady Buffy; she needs me at this time. She comes from a foreign land, as my father has surely discussed with you by now."

Aragorn sighed. "I understand." His tone was a tiny bit reproachful.

"I don't mind," Buffy said suddenly, turning to face them.

Arwen's face reddened. "I should not like to waste your time, Lady Buffy."

"I'd be wasting yours if I bothered you with my penchant for weapons," she replied easily. "Really, I'll be examining them far too closely for this part to be interesting. Just hurry back when you're done with your... private conversation." She sent a smirk Arwen's way and the beautiful girl only got more flustered.

"I thank you, my Lady. I shall struggle to repay your kindness, but I am ever thankful." Aragorn bowed.

Buffy snorted as they slowly went away together. "If kindness was a thing to be repaid, the whole world would be in debt."

She sighed, looking over the weapons. Buffy picked up the broadsword, flipping it in her palm to watch the light bounce off of it. It wasn't heavy, but for some reason she felt like it should have been. She sheathed it and picked up a few knives. They were oddly shaped, and since each handle had a hole big enough for two fingers, she suspected they were meant to be aerodynamic. She eyed the longbow for a moment before picking up the axe instead. It wasn't that she couldn't handle it, but she'd had more practice with crossbows and wasn't too sure she could accurately shoot with a longbow. Besides, she was always more of a smash-smash-kill kind of girl anyway. Hand-to-hand was her forte.

She put aside some of the throwing knives and the axe and was examining the sword once more when she heard Arwen's voice behind her.

"Do you like them? i picked them all myself."

"That was quick," Buffy noted casually, sending another smirk the other girl's way. "I'm glad that if someone had to have dibs on Aragorn, it was you."

Despite her blush, the she-elf's brows furrowed quizzically. "Dibs?"

"Sorry," Buffy replied. "I meant that he's yours, that's all. You seem to really like him."

"I love him," she said somewhat proudly, the tips of her pointed ears turning pink. "And he loves me..."

"So I guess age doesn't matter too much in interspecies romances here, either?" Buffy said, highly amused. She felt a little sorry for Angel and Spike, her two ex-lovers of the vampiric persuasion.

"I suppose not," Arwen said after a moment. "Though I am quite young for an elf. And Aragorn is eighty-seven."

"He's what?" Buffy barely choked out. "He doesn't... how long exactly do people live around these parts, anyway?"

Arwen smiled kindly. "He is one of the Dunedain. His life is about three times as long as the life of your average man."

"Well... that's certainly helpful in the romance department."

"It is?"

"Assuming everyone's still alive after this whole mess."

She nodded absently, her eyes travelling to the sword Buffy was comfortably carrying.

"It's light," Buffy said quietly, unsheathing the blade for Arwen to see.

"It is elf-made," she agreed. "Look how it catches the light. I had this one fashioned the way Men make theirs, but in an elven forge. Look how it catches the light... beautiful." She looked and sounded wistful.

"Is it yours?" Buffy asked.

Arwen shook her head. "I wish it were, but alas, I am not suited to swords and other weaponry popular among Men and Dwarves. I wield a sword if I must, but like most Eldar, I prefer the longbow." She looked to the bow, and Buffy blushed. It was the only weapon that had gone untouched.

"I'm a bit out of practice," she admitted.

"It's just as well," Arwen said lightly. "You must arm yourself with familiar weapons. Do not weigh yourself down with the whims of others."

"Speaking of, uh, arming myself... could I bother you with a change of clothes?"

"Oh, but of course! What were you considering for garments?"

"Boots, for one," Buffy said, grinning widely. "I haven't been wearing shoes at all, and I doubt that I won't need them."

"Leather boots. Done," Arwen nodded.

"Er, perhaps something easier to fight in?"

"I suppose you can't very well engage in a gown," Arwen sighed. "Though one does hope."

"Maybe something loose," Buffy offered. "Nothing tight to constrict movement, but—"

"A tunic would do well," Arwen muttered to herself, deep in thought. She looked Buffy up and down, as if quite literally sizing her up, and then began pacing. "But armor..."

"I don't think I need armor," Buffy said quickly. Arwen shot her a surprised look. Buffy sighed, explaining. "I'm strong and fast for a human. I was meant to fight. I don't think any skirmish could end in me getting hurt. Besides," she added to comfort Arwen's worrying gaze, "I doubt Aragorn or Legolas will be wearing any armor. If anything happens, I'll just jump behind Boromir and let him take most of the blow." This earned her an amused expression from Arwen, and the elf girl sighed.

"Alright, if you're very sure."

"Very," Buffy assured her.

After a brief pause, Arwen bid Buffy goodbye and promised to be back early the next morning with the articles of clothing.

"Arwen," Buffy called out.

The girl turned to Buffy with a curious glance.

"Thank you."

Flushing with pleasure at the unexpected gratitude, Arwen nodded and then left.

Buffy carefully placed the weapons on her bed away from her bed and flopped down onto it. Apparently it was now lunchtime because a very skittish she-elf came by and left a tray of food for her. Before Buffy had a chance to thank her, she scurried out of sight. Shrugging, Buffy ate and drank as much as she could, pausing briefly in between bites to enjoy the scenery outside her room. She had finished lunch quickly and started training. Afternoon turned to evening, and the same skittish she-elf came by to collect the tray she'd left, and returned not thirty minutes later with another tray for dinner. While she ate, Buffy eyed the clear crystal decanter filled with amber liquid suspiciously. She couldn't read the label as it was written in some weird language where all the letters looked the same (though wasn't that every language?), so after she'd eaten, she lifted the cap and sniffed it.

"It is wine," said a voice from behind her, and she shut the decanter with a clang and turned to face the voice. It was Legolas, and he had a soft, amused smile on his face. The way he was positioned outside her doorway made it seem like he had only been passing by when he spotted her. "It is from the city of Lake-town, east of Mirkwood. It seems that you are an honored guest, my Lady, if they offer it so freely and generously," he added, eyeing the amount, "to you. I myself did not receive any." He looked just a tiny bit miffed at the fact, though he admitted it freely.

"Oh. Uh, thanks," came Buffy's brilliant response.

"A word of unsolicited advice: drink it. They might take it as a slight if you do not."

"I don't believe in getting drunk the night before a fight. Not anymore, anyway," she added grudgingly, since it was not like she was incredibly prepared every night of her younger life.

"Does my Lady anticipate a fight on the morrow?" he asked with pleasurable amusement.

"No harm in being prepared. Still, I'd hate to offend the ones who have been so kind to me." Her lips quirked in a wry smile.

"It would be a shame if the wine were spilled and spoiled," Legolas noted gently.

"That it would. Oh, if only I had a companion who could join me in emptying this decanter."

"As we are companions, my Lady, I shall be more than happy to oblige."

"Oh, would you? I'd be so thankful."

"An elf has never turned down an offer of a drink. Especially not from an enchanting maiden such as yourself," he said with a grin.

"Why don't you have a seat, companion? Humor me for a moment."

He took the chair opposite her and filled both wine glasses with the amber fluid. "I live to serve, my Lady," he said coyly.

And so it was, for the first time of many times, Buffy and Legolas got very, very drunk together. As Legolas later told her and she later proved with her tastebuds, the wine from Lake-town was incredible. At some point they stumbled out and followed the path Buffy had taken earlier and made it to the waterfall, where Buffy had almost tripped and fell to her death where the white water curled and furled and met the rocks. Legolas, sober in the moment of impending danger, had swooped and caught her by one of her huge sleeves. They laughed and burped and chatted, Buffy only aware enough to make sure she didn't let slip anything about her being from another dimension. Apparently they were laughing a little too loudly, because before they knew it, Aragorn descended upon them and yelled for a good half hour before sending them to bed. Shoulders slumped like scolded children, the three split ways, each to their own bed.

Buffy slipped under her borrowed covers, wondering sadly if Dawn was missing her right now. But the wine did not let her be sad too long, because sleep washed over her soon enough, claiming her as part of its domain for the remainder of the dark hours of night.


I hope you enjoyed that! I enjoyed writing it for the most part. It gets a little boring for me when I'm just copying the script, but I don't want too many discontinuities or there might be a riot... in my head. I think. Maybe. We'll see.

But seriously, I'd love to write more. Right now it looks like one chapter a week would be a good goal. Let's hope I can continue that. As always, criticism and corrections are welcome.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything that is recognizably part of the Buffy the Vampire Slayer or the Lord of the Rings franchises.

Until next time,

Sharkbait Anna