Lisette – About the girl thing; being that they're still in Mirkwood, I don't know that the Elves would recognise Buffy as someone of marrying age. As a human, I think they would look down upon her to the point they would consider her a child, (compared to the Elves' longevity, she practically is) who, by her lack of years, would not have as much experience as an Elven maiden might. That, and I myself just can't think of Buffy as a woman. Buffy's age in the series is only a few years older than I am, and I have yet to refer to myself as a woman! (It's much more fun to still be a girl – that's my reasoning and I'm sticking to it!)

Thanks to all reviewers for the encouragement; I know the updates have been slow to get posted, but don't worry – I don't plan on abandoning this story until it's finished. (Who knows when that will be…)

Strange Allies with Warring Hearts

He was sure, without a doubt, that by his sheer will and the strength of his body to reach as far as humanly possible, he was sure that he would catch her. That somehow, the fates would see his struggle, that somehow time would slow itself by a fraction of a millisecond. That by grazing the bottom of her boot with his fingertips, somehow her foot would find itself in his hand.

As rational a thinker as Rupert Giles was, he could not resist exploring every possible "what if" scenario. He knew that this thinking did nothing to solve the problem at hand, it merely passed the time that stretched from one hour to the next. And while he tried valiantly to keep his mind focused on the present and on the task of retrieving his protégé, his thoughts would eventually wander back to the inevitable. If only…

"Giles?"

He gave a start, surprised for a moment to hear voices in his living room. Blinking the thoughts away, he chided himself for wandering so far from the here and now. Of course there were voices in his living room; these past few days they hardly left to give him a moment's peace.

"Would you like some tea?" Tara asked warmly.

But then again, they could be useful in some areas. "Yes, thank you Tara. I'll join you," he said as he began to rise from the couch.

Tara placed a firm hand on his arm and smiled. "No, you sit. I can get it."

Yes, they could positively be invaluable at times. Grateful for the continued rest, Giles sank back down into the tan leather sofa, resting his chin on his hand. Willow and Xander were arguing across from him – for once Xander had left the sarcasm and dry wit at home. Instead, frustrated venting had taken its place. Dawn looked up at them warily; the teenager had barely spoken since that fateful night. She immersed herself in the books, devouring the large volumes with a vigour matched only by himself. But unlike him, she hardly slept or took any time for rest. Anya kept a concerned eye on her, almost motherly. It was shocking to see the curt woman place a comforting hand on Dawn's shoulder, but she did – and quite often to boot. Dawn always forced a smile in thanks, but the wide-eyed look of foreboding never left her face.

Spike paced. The tension rippled through him like a caged mountain lion, until Giles had been forced to shout at the vampire to get him to stop. Spike had glared at him, fighting the urge to say something exceedingly rude. But instead he shook his head and exhaled loudly, running his fingers through his platinum hair before skulking in an armchair for a few hours. But eventually he got bored of that and now he was pacing again.

Giles could no longer find the words that would set them all at ease. He could not find it within himself to make promises that even he didn't believe. He no longer had the answers – he didn't even know where to start. He rubbed his tired, aching eyes with a sigh.

He had not slept soundly the night before. On the verge of sleep, an idea would form in his mind, commanding his attention until he ruled out yet another potential solution. Then he would start the process of clearing his mind and relaxing his body all over again, often with the same results. But one final thought before he finally drifted off into sleep had troubled him so much that he pushed it to the very small recesses in the back of his mind, denying himself the right to ponder it further.

What if she didn't want to come back?

***

They had come to the point where Legolas was leaning on Aragorn just as much as Aragorn was leaning on Legolas. The weary twosome resembled a comical impression of staggering drunks more than they did warriors. They walked in a zig-zagging fashion; stumbling to put one foot in front of the other. And to pass the time, (or simply to annoy each other) they argued incessantly.

"You said it yourself; that you were 'somehow compelled'," Aragorn dramatically waved his hand out in front of him to emphasise the point. "And if you were compelled, then you were not truly acting on your own sense of reason, and therefore you were not choosing that path of your own volition. Therefore, I cannot hold you accountable for your actions; obviously you had no free will in this decision."

"Of course I had free will!" Legolas exclaimed. "I am always in control of my own actions."

"Aha!" Shouted Aragorn. "Then you admit it!"

Legolas was truly baffled now. His mind was beginning to ache with the difficult line of thinking. "Admit what?"

"That you did act on your own accord. You did willingly and knowingly drag me on another senseless mission yet again."

"Senseless?!" Legolas spat out. He shook his head and blinked the dizziness out of his eyes. Breathing was swiftly becoming a tiresome chore. He panted on for a few moments before finding his air again. "I beg to differ, human. How has it been senseless?"

Aragorn stopped abruptly, throwing Legolas off balance. The Elf teetered for a split-second before finding his centre again. The Ranger was panting as well, but under his layers of caked dirt and clotted blood he glared at Legolas. "We are lost and both a shade closer to death. Had you simply returned to the Kingdom like any rational Elf would have, we would not be suffering this misery."

Legolas gathered his hair at the base of his neck and threw it off his shoulders. A light drizzle had coated the forest, dampening his hair and skin until the tresses stuck to the back of his neck and itched him terribly. He was miserable, that much he would admit. The spider venom was settling itself throughout his veins and body. His legs became lead; the simple art of walking became an arduous task of letting one foot fall heavily in front of the other. It would not be long before his already fuzzy vision completely gave out on him. Then he would be both paralysed and unconscious for an extended period of time. Their ultimate goal was to be as far from the spider nests as possible before that occurred. But at their current rate, that hope was dying. "And what do you mean 'yet again'?" He added.

Aragorn sighed, wiping the moisture off his face. Then he turned and laughed at Legolas. "If I recall correctly, and I do, we came to be in Sunnydale purely because of your own foolishness."

Legolas' mouth dropped.

Aragorn laughed harder at the sight of a speechless Elf. "You persuaded me on that hunt, implying that we were merely tracking spiders and not Orcs. I should have known better than to trust a Mirkwood Elf."

Legolas grunted and threw Aragorn's arm around his shoulder, initiating the painful trudge once again. "Now you sound like a Dwarf."

"At least the Dwarves have the good sense not go against their instincts."

Thus the argument started over, much where it had left off. They argued back and forth until their reasons became short bursts of logic, followed by drawn-out silences. Soon they had neither the strength nor desire to continue their bantering. Walking became a battle of their wills versus their waning strength.

"Legolas," Aragorn panted. "We should stop…build a fire…find shelter of sorts."

Legolas gave a small shake of his head; any more effort and he would make himself nauseous. "No," he insisted. "We must go further."

Aragorn stumbled along, processing this thought at an alarmingly slow rate and gathering his breath to retort. "Why?" Was all he could manage.

Legolas gasped for an answer. "You'll see."

With no heart to contradict the Elven Prince, Aragorn simply let Legolas lead them farther into the wild.

Legolas was the first to trip and fall, taking Aragorn with him. Aragorn pushed himself to his side, wheezing for air and squeezing his eyes shut as he attempted to clear the fog from his brain. His wavering eyesight sought out Legolas' prone form, and with a trembling hand Aragorn shook his shoulder. Legolas grunted into the dirt.

Aragorn thought it immensely odd and most disconcerting when his muddled mind realised belatedly that there was a pair of feet in front of his head. He lifted his head slowly, taking in the frayed and faded grey robe, up to the brown leather belt, to the wrinkled and callused hand that sat firmly on his hip, to the other hand that held a warped tree branch for a walking stick and finally onto the white beard streaked with grey, the patient eyes beneath frazzled eyebrows, the wizard's hat perched atop a wizard's head. "Gandalf," Aragorn breathed, relief tingeing his voice.

"See?" Legolas muttered into the dirt.

***

The horses sensed it before the riders did. The grey-speckled mare that Buffy was straddling stopped suddenly, rearing and snorting while Buffy clung to her neck precariously. She was not enjoying her first riding lessons. Elrohir and Elladan's horse did much the same, although the two more experienced riders calmly weathered the horse's fit. Elladan leaped off the horse and studied the ground. Buffy copied him, thankful for the chance to work out some of the cramps in her legs from the bouncy ride. Elladan dabbed his finger in what looked like a small, muddy puddle.

"Blood?" Buffy asked.

Elladan nodded, his forehead creasing. And then to Buffy's amazement and disgust, he tasted it. He quickly spat it out and wrinkled his nose. "Spiders."

Buffy shook her head and straightened. "Great."

"Why would they come here?" Elrohir asked. It was the obvious question, and Buffy, Elladan and Elrohir all looked to each other to answer it. Moments of frustrated silence filed between them as none could come up with a veritable reason.

Elladan and Buffy both tracked the ground, taking mental notes of footprints and blood, broken blades of grass and snapped tree roots. Elrohir nudged his horse forward, past the other two.

"Here," he motioned with one hand. "Got a dead one here."

Buffy ran forward, shuddering at the sight of a large spider with an arrow driven into its underside. The thing was on its back with all eight legs curled inwards, an enlarged version of dead spiders from her world. "Ugly," she stated simply.

Elrohir had already moved on. "More over here, and I can see one over there. I think half of it's missing though."

Elladan was shaking his head with hands perched on his hips. "Obviously they survived."

"Survived?" Buffy turned to him with a quizzical frown. "How can you be so sure? What if they're hanging upside down in some cocoon right now?"

Elladan shook his head. "No. I think they got them all."

"Brother," Elrohir said quietly.

Elladan looked past Buffy to where Elrohir was examining the bark of a tree. His eyes were troubled. Buffy followed Elladan over to the tree, carefully stepping over the body of a spider missing a few of its legs. A small trickle of something bright played against the damp darkness of the tree. It was crimson, unlike the oily black of the spiders' blood.

"Human blood," Elrohir breathed.

Elladan flashed Buffy a quick glance. "Or Elven."

Buffy digested the news with a slow nod. She stared at the ground and turned away from the line of blood that painted the tree. "They can't be far." She didn't wait for them to retort, but they wouldn't have regardless. "They could both be wounded. They have to be tired." She walked back to where her horse was nervously eyeing its surroundings. Mustering her strength and poise, she hoisted herself up onto the back without a second try. "We don't rest until we find them."

Elladan and Elrohir shared a quick glance. Humour danced in their eyes. It was bad enough to take orders from their younger human brother – now it looked as though they would have to take it from a human girl as well.

Elladan mounted behind Elrohir, for once following the girl who seemed resolutely determined to take over the hunt for the two missing. They had not moved more than 10 paces when a booming voice commanded their attention.

"Halt!"

Buffy spun around in her saddle, squinting at the approaching figures on horseback. Elladan and Elrohir began to mumble something in a language unknown to Buffy, and the manner in which they spoke made Buffy think of the way small children mutter under their breath when they see the principal stalking towards them. She quickly glanced at them for instruction but their shoulders sagged with resignation. She narrowed her eyes at the company of blonde Elves that now surrounded the three. A particularly large Elf with shoulder length blonde hair reined his horse in until Buffy was blocked from escaping.

"You are to be apprehended and held until for further notice for the crimes of trespassing in the Royal Wood without due permission of His Majesty, the King of Mirkwood; of stealing the personal property of His Majesty, the King of Mirkwood, Thranduil the-"

"I prefer the term 'borrowed'."

Galadar did not take kindly to being interrupted during royal proclamations, especially from those he was sentencing. He eyed the girl warily, hand straying to the hilt of his sword.

"How would you prefer the term 'dungeon'?"

The girl glared at him defiantly. "Bite me."

The Elves' heads snapped up and they all glanced at each other suspiciously. Even Elrohir and Elladan shared a brief and very confused glance.

Galadar's mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air. "I…beg your pardon?"

Buffy shrugged. "You heard me."

"We all heard you, lady," a regal voice cut through the air. Buffy sought out the one who spoke, finding herself confronted by a larger version of Legolas but with strikingly green eyes. "But perhaps we missed something in the meaning."

He didn't glower at her the way the first one did. He wore a slight smile and his eyes bore deeply into hers. She couldn't tell if he was being condescending in an attempt to intimidate her or if she genuinely amused him. Either way, she herself wasn't amused.

Her horse paced cautiously in front of the tracking party. "Take it any way you like," she offered quietly. "Just don't stand in my way."

The regal one's eyebrows shot up. "Dangerous little thing, aren't we?"

Now Buffy was getting pissed off. "Look, on any other day I'd love to sit down and trade some nasty threats with you. But you caught me on one of my really, really, bad days. So back off, or you'll find out how dangerous I can be."

The Elves looked incredulously to one another. The lead Elf burst out laughing, holding his stomach as his companions stared at him in baffled silence. He dismounted, still chuckling softly as he sauntered over to Buffy's horse. He held her mare's rein, pulling the horse in until he was a few daring inches from her leg. "And just where is it," he asked in a low voice that hinted at sounding threatening, "that you are in such a hurry to be?"

"Come off of it Eliathas."

Eliathas rounded on the two Rivendell brothers, particularly Elrohir. "Something you would like to add, Master Elrohir?"

"We search for Aragorn, our brother, son of Elrond," Elladan announced loudly. He fixated his attention on Eliathas. "And we also search for Legolas, your brother, the Prince of Mirkwood."

Eliathas glanced sharply in Buffy's direction. "I see."

"Obviously you do not," Elrohir stated. "Look around you, son of Thranduil. Can you not see the marks of battle against Mirkwood spiders? The two we hunt for are wounded. Unless you wish to bring your brother's body home wrapped in a sheet, I suggest you let us on our way."

His words hit a mark with Eliathas. His emerald eyes scorched a path through Elrohir, but the proud Rivendell Elf held his ground.

"You could, of course, join us," Elrohir began, a small smile playing at the edges of his mouth. "If you so choose."

"You forget yourself, Master Elrohir." Eliathas' voice took on a dangerous growl. "This is Mirkwood, not Rivendell. You are in my father's Kingdom, not your own. And while you travel in His Majesty's wood, you will be under his command."

Buffy sighed loudly. "Yeah, well, His Majesty isn't around at the moment-"

"Which is why you now find yourself in MY command." Eliathas announced. He walked back over to Buffy and cocked his head. "My first concern is for that of my brother's life. I will hear not a word from you, not even a whisper. Once Prince Legolas is back in the safety of the Kingdom, we will then deal with you and your crimes." He stalked off back to his horse and mounted with an impetuous air, signalling the company to follow him off into the wood. He left Buffy, Elrohir and Elladan to cover the rear, effectively dismissing them.

Buffy resisted the overwhelming urge to flip him off.

***

Aragorn shivered and pulled his cloak tighter to his body. The action did not go unnoticed.

"Sit closer to the fire," he was commanded by Gandalf.

The Ranger shuffled himself closer to the small but adequate fire then turned to watch Gandalf tend to his unconscious friend, Legolas. The Elf had not moved since Gandalf had deposited him on a tattered old blanket beside the kindling fire. The grizzled wizard rubbed a clear salve on the back of Legolas' neck, taking a quick moment to wave a hand in front of the Elf''s blank stare. He did not blink. Sighing, Gandalf tucked Legolas' cloak snugly around his neck. He pushed his body up from his knees, turning to eye Aragorn severely.

Aragorn's attention was held rapt by the prone body of his friend. "Will he be alright?"

Gandalf harrumphed. "Oh yes. Most Elves of the Mirkwood region are used to spider venom. He will recover." He raised an eyebrow at the sight of the exhausted Ranger in front of him. "You, on the other hand…"

Aragorn tried to shrug, wincing when the small movement caused his shoulders to cry out. "I will be fine."

"I have no doubt that you will survive. And you shall have the scars to prove it. But what I cannot comprehend, is the stupidity that got you into this mess in the first place."

"Stupidity?" Aragorn nearly choked on the word. He nodded with his chin in Legolas' direction. "You need look no further for an explanation than the Prince you just attended to. It was all his undoing."

"Indeed, blame the one that cannot defend himself."

Aragorn opened his mouth to protest but Gandalf waved him off. "It is most unlike you to not to think for yourself."

"I was wounded!" Aragorn protested.

Gandalf nodded. "And yet you still draw breath. For that I fear, you will have to thank the stupid one who cannot defend himself."

Aragorn's mouth closed and his eyes lowered to study the comforting fire in front of them. He heard a small pop followed by a long sucking noise; Gandalf had just lit his pipe. The wizard sat next to the brooding human with his long pipe, inhaling thoughtfully as he nudged Aragorn with his shoulder. "I am relieved to have found you when I did."

Aragorn turned to him questioningly. "Why?"

A sharp yowl in the distance made Aragorn jump slightly.

Gandalf took his pipe out of his mouth and pointed it in the direction of the animal-like noise. "That is why. Every night they come closer. It won't be long now."

Aragorn swallowed reflexively. Orcs.

***

Something made Buffy turn slightly off the path that Eliathas led them on, that the others followed obediently. She stretched out with all her instincts, searching with her eyes and when they failed her, she closed them tightly and concentrated her hearing until she blocked out all other noises, even that of her own breathing. Then she heard it – a quick snap. Her eyes shot open.

"What is it?"

Buffy gave a surprised start. She turned to the soft voice that appeared suddenly at her side, expecting to see one of the dark-haired Elves, but instead she found herself staring at a willowy blonde Elf, taller and leaner than any she had seen so far.

"I heard something," she said quietly.

His forehead creased as he looked at her, as if judging her ability to hear. "Where? Which direction?"

She pointed directly in front of her. He straightened on his horse until he sat a full foot above her, then he squinted into the never-ending darkness. "By the Valar," he whispered.

"Linnethuil! Why have you stopped?"

Linnethuil shifted in his saddle towards Eliathas, motioning him with a hand. Eliathas galloped over, sparing a quick glare in Buffy's direction. The Slayer gritted her teeth against the urge to kick him.

Linnethuil pointed into the distance. "There, do you see it?" He whispered. "A campfire. We've found them."