Chapter Six
Elrond called a council of Lords. Everyone was invited. Dwarf Lords, Elf Lords, and Human Lords. It was just a gigantic smorgasbord of Middle Earthlings.
Willow was the only female invited, she felt out of place. Then again, being from 4400 years ago, Willow really was out of place. Nothing to be done about it.
She clenched the cuffs of her dress.
It seems the elven seamstresses were having a real tough time recreating Willow's clothing. So she was once again decked out in Arwen's clothes, a white dress. Willow was being to feel a bit bland. It's not like she didn't appreciate the gesture, but if she sees any more white things here, she was going to go ballistic. Willow loves colors'; being bland was starting to grate her nerves.
So anyway, here she was waiting to be announced to Elrond's council, fidgeting in her borrowed dress, wishing she were in Mordor instead. At least there she wouldn't be put on center stage, like some freak on display.
Willow never managed to get over her stage fright.
Gandalf appeared at the end of the hallway. He motioned with his hand. Show time. Willow was debating how long it would take Strider to catch her if she took off running. Probably not too long.
Stupid well fit man.
Gandalf extended his elbow to her. She took it with shaking hands. He smiled reassuringly at her. It didn't help much.
"May I present, Willow the Lady Firelight," Elrond's voice came booming out to them.
Nope, didn't help in the least.
Willow dropped Gandalf's arm and turned to run back up the steps. She ran right smack into Strider. He grabbed her arms and gave her an amused look.
"I was just . . ." Willow trailed off when he turned her back around towards the meeting.
"No, I can't do this," she squeaked. "I'm just plain old Willow. Hell, I'm nothing more than Velma, the most useless Scooby. Nothing special here, I should just go back to my room and let you guys continue."
"Lady Firelight?" came Elrond's call.
Strider patted her shoulder and led her straight into the council.
Silence greeted her. Willow looked out over the gathered. Men, dwarves, and elves, all staring at her. She was stopped at Elrond's left side. He was giving some sort of introduction speech. Willow didn't hear any of it. There was blood roaring in her ears. Everyone just stared at her and Willow got redder by the minute.
Presently, Strider gently pushed her to her seat, thankfully right next to Frodo. The young hobbit brightened at the sight of her, a feeling much reciprocated. She gingerly sat down. Strider gave her one last pat on the shoulder before taking his seat across from her.
Next to the other humans. One dressed in purple and green silk, noble written all over him, was staring at her appraisingly. Willow reverted her eyes, only to find all the attendees staring at her. Not helping with the easing of her mind.
Frodo grabbed her hand. She turned to him and smiled faintly. Faintly, interesting choice of words, considering she was about to faint. Yup, Willow Rosenburg was not long for this world of consciousness. She turned pleading eyes on Elrond.
Thankfully, he diverted attention away from her.
"We are here to discuss a very real threat to us all," he extended an arm in the direction of the hobbit. "Frodo Baggins, bring forth the ring."
Frodo approached the center stage hesitantly. He quickly placed the ring on the pedestal provided. He hastened back to his seat, sighing heavily.
All eyes were on the ring, and the ring liked it. Willow felt an illness creeping through her stomach. It made her head spin. What the hell was in this thing? Willow never felt this kind of magic before. It was pure blackness.
"It's a gift," Willow snapped her head towards the voice. Noble mortal man had gotten up and was pacing before the king.
"Long have my father and our men kept the border between Gondor and Mordor. Your lands are protected by the blood of our people. Give us the weapon of the enemy, we shall use it right."
"No," Willow frowned. That sounded a lot like her voice. Probably because it was. Oh Boy. "You can't use that thing. It's just evil."
The noble looked at her strangely.
"She is right," Strider, bless his heart! "The ring only has one master and will work for no one but him. We cannot use it."
"And what would a Ranger know of this?" the noble countered snidely.
Willow saw red.
"This is no mere Ranger!" Okay, that time it wasn't her. Willow glanced over at the speaker. It was a blond Elf, and he was really yummy. Willow's face turned red. Thank God no one here was a mind reader. She really hoped there wasn't.
"This is Aragorn," the yummy Elf continued. Yeah, Willow was real bad. "Isildur's heir and heir to the throne of Gondor."
The rest was a blur. Strider, or Aragorn, was Isildur's descendant. Isildur was Angel's descendant. Willow mentally drew the lines. She stared at Aragorn openly. He reminded her of Angel because there was Angel in him. He was Angel's ancestor. Her friend's family, and he knew. Willow saw it in his eyes, he knew all along. And he didn't say a thing. Willow wanted to start crying again.
Willow was jarred out of her thoughts by an explosion. She gave a loud yelp at the noise. She looked towards center stage. A dwarf was being pulled off the ground by his friends. The shards of what looked like an axe surrounded the ring.
"The ring cannot be destroyed by any means we have here, Gimli son of Gloin," Elrond uttered exasperatedly.
A snicker escaped Willow before she could help it. The dwarf glared daggers at her. Willow turned red and sunk into her seat. This was going well.
"The ring can only be destroyed from the same fiery chasm where it was forged," Willow sat up straighter, this was interesting. "The ring must be cast back into the volcano from whence it came, in the fires of Mount Doom in the land of Mordor."
"Mount Doom, that's encouraging," she muttered under her breath. A giggle erupted from beside her. Frodo grinned up at her. Willow smiled and relaxed a bit. Not everyone here thought she was a rude, silly girl.
Noble man began to laugh softly.
"One does not simply walk into Mordor. It is a barren wasteland filled with poisonous fumes. On top of that, there is the eye," he held up his hand in an O shape. "Not with ten thousand men could you do this."
"Well that instills confidence in me," Willow grumbled. This time everyone heard her. A couple of the Elves were snickering. Willow was going to die of embarrassment. Why couldn't she just shut up?
"One of us must do this, it is the only way." Yummy Elf to the rescue. Willow was definitely going to have to find out his name.
"And I suppose you think you should be the one," the dwarf, Gimli, bellowed. "I'll die before I see an Elf in possession of the ring of power. Never trust an Elf!"
The council erupted into chaos. Everyone was fighting. Gandalf jumped from his seat and noble man started fighting with him. It was not going well.
The ring loved the fighting. She could almost imagine it crowing in happiness. Willow was taking a serious disliking to that thing.
She heard a soft whimper. She looked over at Frodo; he was clutching his head, as if in pain. Sweat beads were forming on his forehead. The poor darling was in torment. She pressed her fingers against his temples. He shut his eyes and a vision hit them both.
An eye, encased in flames. It was laughing, it loved the chaos.
Frodo opened his eyes and looked at Willow. "I will take it," he whispered.
Willow closed her eyes in resignation. A tear leaked out. She had hoped the hobbits would have been able to return to their home, the Shire. It sounded so lovely; the hobbits were in love with it. Now, she could see it was not going to happen. Frodo's life was so intricately woven with the fate of the ring, it was hard for her to see where one ends or the other begins.
"I will take it," louder this time, drawing everyone's attention. "I will take the ring into Mordor." The fighting stopped, everyone stared at the hobbit.
"Only, I do not know the way," Frodo finished hesitantly.
Willow stepped up behind him. "I'm going with him," she stated firmly. "Not like I know the way or anything, but I'm going. Maybe you could give the kid a map or something, cause I'm no real help with those things."
Gandalf smiled at them proudly. "My dear children," he came towards them with arms outstretched. "You will not bear this burden alone. I will carry it with you, however long it is yours to bear." Willow and Frodo were enveloped into a large, fatherly hug.
Strid- no Aragorn, also approached the two. "By my life or death, I will protect you. My sword is at your disposal."
There was the Angel-ness again. Now she knew where it came from, Angel.
"And my bow!" Yea! Yummy Elf was coming.
"And my axe!" The dwarf. Maybe he had some redeeming qualities.
Noble man looked hard at the volunteers. Willow returned his steady gaze with her resolve face.
"The fate of us all is on your shoulders. We're all counting on you, little ones," he stated.
Willow guessed that was his way of volunteering.
There was a burst of rustling behind them.
"Hey!" Sam emerged from the bushes of the garden. He skittered out to stand beside Frodo.
"Mr. Frodo isn't going anywhere without me," he declared firmly. Willow smirked and pulled leaves out of his hair. He gave her a warm smile.
"Indeed, it would not be so," Elrond affirmed sarcastically. "It is hardly possible to separate you two, even when he is invited to a secret council and you are not." Sam had the sense to look slightly shamed.
"We're coming too!" came a shriek, followed by the pattering of footsteps.
Merry and Pippin raced out behind from two pillars. Elrond looked about ready to blow. Willow snickered and swept Pippin up into her arms.
"He had us tied up in a potato sack to keep us away," he informed her indignantly.
Willow raised her eyebrows in amusement. "You certainly showed him, didn't ya?"
Pippin nodded emphatically. "Besides," he continued. "You need people of intelligence on this sort of a question . . . Quest . . . Thing."
Merry rolled his eyes. "Well that leaves you out, doesn't it Pippin." Willow giggled some more. The whole ordeal was ridiculous. She hugged the young hobbit in her arms more closely.
Elrond was smiling again. "Very well," he agreed. "One Lady of the light and nine warriors to accompany her. You shall be known as the Fellowship of the Ring."
Pippin was ecstatic. "So," he began amiably. "Where are we going?"
*****
Willow had to find Aragorn. Yep, she had finally deprogrammed the Strider out of her. She was looking for ARAGORN.
And she was having a damn hard time. She wished the hobbits were here to help her look, but they were spending quality time with their old friend Bilbo. He was quite the character, but Willow sensed he needed time alone with the younger hobbits. So she had gone off, to find Aragorn, and having no luck whatsoever.
"That's it!" she fumed, plopping down on the numerous benches of the palace. "I officially give up."
"Give up what, My Lady?" Willow glanced up. Boromir, noble guy.
Willow shrugged her shoulders. "I need to talk to Aragorn," she answered, timidly. Not that he was intimidating or anything, in fact he was quite nice. Willow still felt wholly out of place with anyone but her hobbit friends. And Aragorn, Angel's blood.
Boromir smiled kindly at her. "I saw him naught a moment ago," he offered, pointing down the hall. "He was talking with Legolas."
Thanking him, Willow raced down the hall. She had some serious things to discuss with Mr. Lets-keep-my-heritage-a-secret.
She found him in deep discussion with Legolas, the Yummy Elf. Willow reddened. She was having a tougher time deprogramming that one out of her. Both looked up at her cough.
"I need to talk to Aragorn," she stated quietly. Aragorn looked down at the floor. He knew what was coming.
Legolas smiled agreeably and left without saying a word. Well actually he did say something, but it totally flew over Willow's head after he smiled. Damn, the boy was fine!
At the rate her thoughts were going, Willow was probably burst into flames. She had a hard time thinking productive thoughts when the handsome Elf was around. It didn't make much sense to her. After all, she just broke up with Tara, the woman she loved. Willow was a lesbian, wasn't she? Her head hurt, she couldn't understand much of her own feelings. But the boy was fine! She just prayed no one else noticed the mammoth-sized crush she was developing on Legolas.
Aragorn offered her a seat. She took it without saying a word. He sat beside her, also wordless. The talk was getting off to a grand start.
Finally, after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, Willow turned to look Aragorn right in the eyes.
"Why didn't you tell me you're a descendant of Angel's?"
Aragorn sighed. "My apologies, dear Willow. I am not proud to be the heir of Isildur. When I initially met you and the hobbits, I decided it was best not to tell you I was the heir of the Betrayer. It fills me with great shame, I did not want you to know."
"Why?"
"I did not want you to think less of me for it."
"Why would I think less of you for it? It wasn't your fault Isildur did what he did."
"But don't you see?" he turned pleading eyes on her. "I am his heir. The same blood that flows through mine veins was his. The same weakness-"
"NO!" Willow stood up, visibly angry. "Don't you dare to ashamed of the blood that runs through your veins. Yes, it belonged to Isildur once too, but it is not the bearer of weakness or evil. It is the noblest blood, greatest heritage that anyone can claim."
Aragorn looked stunned. "How so?"
She sighed and sat back down. "Do you know of Angelus?" He nodded.
"Right. Angelus was a vampire, a horrible vampire. He was called the Scourge of Europe, he did terrible things. Then one day, he went and royally pissed off some Romanian gypsies. They cursed him with a human soul. The demon was subdued, and Angelus was left with the guilt of thousands of deaths by his hand. He nearly gave up. Crawled into alleyways, fed off rats, and lived quite the pathetic existence for over 100 years.
Then, a demon came to see him. Well, a half demon named Whistler, who was actually one of the good guys. He cleaned him up and took him to Los Angeles, California. Whistler showed him a girl, a beautiful blond girl who stole his heart at first sight. She was Buffy Summers, the Vampire Slayer.
Soon, she was moved to Sunnydale, the Hellmouth. He followed her. She lived as normally as one could, being the person standing between the world and hell. She had friends. A British librarian who loved to read and wore tons of tweed. A goofy young man whose bravery was unbound. And a tiny meek little hacker girl whom Buffy brought out of her shell. That hacker was I, and I became the Slayer's best friend.
Angel, as he now called himself, watched over Buffy and her friends. He saved my life more than once. He shared a love with Buffy that was so beautiful and entirely painful. They tried as hard as they could, but a vampire and a slayer were not meant to be.
He went back to LA; he started an agency there. He spent his life helping the helpless. His soul was strong, and he passed that strong soul onto his son, Connor. You guys call him the Savior. So, you see, the blood you have in your veins is perfect blood. Blood of brave warriors. It's not the blood that causes weakness. It's the person's soul. And you have a good soul, a part of Angel's soul is in you."
"How can you be so sure?" he whispered faintly.
Willow tipped his face up to look him in the eyes.
"Because I'm the one who gave him that soul. I can kind of sense it like a mile away," she answered calmly.
He stared at her amazed.
"You gave Angelus his soul?"
Willow nodded. He turned away, as if contemplating her words. Then his eyes dimmed and he opened his mouth to speak again.
"No!" she interrupted before he could even begin.
"No more whining and self doubt. You're a great guy, worthy to be called Angel's heir. No use arguing about it mister. I'm more than ready to whip out the old Resolve Face."
Aragorn closed his mouth and smiled.
Then he frowned, as if confused.
"What is a 'Resolve Face'?"
* * * * * * * * * * *
Elrond called a council of Lords. Everyone was invited. Dwarf Lords, Elf Lords, and Human Lords. It was just a gigantic smorgasbord of Middle Earthlings.
Willow was the only female invited, she felt out of place. Then again, being from 4400 years ago, Willow really was out of place. Nothing to be done about it.
She clenched the cuffs of her dress.
It seems the elven seamstresses were having a real tough time recreating Willow's clothing. So she was once again decked out in Arwen's clothes, a white dress. Willow was being to feel a bit bland. It's not like she didn't appreciate the gesture, but if she sees any more white things here, she was going to go ballistic. Willow loves colors'; being bland was starting to grate her nerves.
So anyway, here she was waiting to be announced to Elrond's council, fidgeting in her borrowed dress, wishing she were in Mordor instead. At least there she wouldn't be put on center stage, like some freak on display.
Willow never managed to get over her stage fright.
Gandalf appeared at the end of the hallway. He motioned with his hand. Show time. Willow was debating how long it would take Strider to catch her if she took off running. Probably not too long.
Stupid well fit man.
Gandalf extended his elbow to her. She took it with shaking hands. He smiled reassuringly at her. It didn't help much.
"May I present, Willow the Lady Firelight," Elrond's voice came booming out to them.
Nope, didn't help in the least.
Willow dropped Gandalf's arm and turned to run back up the steps. She ran right smack into Strider. He grabbed her arms and gave her an amused look.
"I was just . . ." Willow trailed off when he turned her back around towards the meeting.
"No, I can't do this," she squeaked. "I'm just plain old Willow. Hell, I'm nothing more than Velma, the most useless Scooby. Nothing special here, I should just go back to my room and let you guys continue."
"Lady Firelight?" came Elrond's call.
Strider patted her shoulder and led her straight into the council.
Silence greeted her. Willow looked out over the gathered. Men, dwarves, and elves, all staring at her. She was stopped at Elrond's left side. He was giving some sort of introduction speech. Willow didn't hear any of it. There was blood roaring in her ears. Everyone just stared at her and Willow got redder by the minute.
Presently, Strider gently pushed her to her seat, thankfully right next to Frodo. The young hobbit brightened at the sight of her, a feeling much reciprocated. She gingerly sat down. Strider gave her one last pat on the shoulder before taking his seat across from her.
Next to the other humans. One dressed in purple and green silk, noble written all over him, was staring at her appraisingly. Willow reverted her eyes, only to find all the attendees staring at her. Not helping with the easing of her mind.
Frodo grabbed her hand. She turned to him and smiled faintly. Faintly, interesting choice of words, considering she was about to faint. Yup, Willow Rosenburg was not long for this world of consciousness. She turned pleading eyes on Elrond.
Thankfully, he diverted attention away from her.
"We are here to discuss a very real threat to us all," he extended an arm in the direction of the hobbit. "Frodo Baggins, bring forth the ring."
Frodo approached the center stage hesitantly. He quickly placed the ring on the pedestal provided. He hastened back to his seat, sighing heavily.
All eyes were on the ring, and the ring liked it. Willow felt an illness creeping through her stomach. It made her head spin. What the hell was in this thing? Willow never felt this kind of magic before. It was pure blackness.
"It's a gift," Willow snapped her head towards the voice. Noble mortal man had gotten up and was pacing before the king.
"Long have my father and our men kept the border between Gondor and Mordor. Your lands are protected by the blood of our people. Give us the weapon of the enemy, we shall use it right."
"No," Willow frowned. That sounded a lot like her voice. Probably because it was. Oh Boy. "You can't use that thing. It's just evil."
The noble looked at her strangely.
"She is right," Strider, bless his heart! "The ring only has one master and will work for no one but him. We cannot use it."
"And what would a Ranger know of this?" the noble countered snidely.
Willow saw red.
"This is no mere Ranger!" Okay, that time it wasn't her. Willow glanced over at the speaker. It was a blond Elf, and he was really yummy. Willow's face turned red. Thank God no one here was a mind reader. She really hoped there wasn't.
"This is Aragorn," the yummy Elf continued. Yeah, Willow was real bad. "Isildur's heir and heir to the throne of Gondor."
The rest was a blur. Strider, or Aragorn, was Isildur's descendant. Isildur was Angel's descendant. Willow mentally drew the lines. She stared at Aragorn openly. He reminded her of Angel because there was Angel in him. He was Angel's ancestor. Her friend's family, and he knew. Willow saw it in his eyes, he knew all along. And he didn't say a thing. Willow wanted to start crying again.
Willow was jarred out of her thoughts by an explosion. She gave a loud yelp at the noise. She looked towards center stage. A dwarf was being pulled off the ground by his friends. The shards of what looked like an axe surrounded the ring.
"The ring cannot be destroyed by any means we have here, Gimli son of Gloin," Elrond uttered exasperatedly.
A snicker escaped Willow before she could help it. The dwarf glared daggers at her. Willow turned red and sunk into her seat. This was going well.
"The ring can only be destroyed from the same fiery chasm where it was forged," Willow sat up straighter, this was interesting. "The ring must be cast back into the volcano from whence it came, in the fires of Mount Doom in the land of Mordor."
"Mount Doom, that's encouraging," she muttered under her breath. A giggle erupted from beside her. Frodo grinned up at her. Willow smiled and relaxed a bit. Not everyone here thought she was a rude, silly girl.
Noble man began to laugh softly.
"One does not simply walk into Mordor. It is a barren wasteland filled with poisonous fumes. On top of that, there is the eye," he held up his hand in an O shape. "Not with ten thousand men could you do this."
"Well that instills confidence in me," Willow grumbled. This time everyone heard her. A couple of the Elves were snickering. Willow was going to die of embarrassment. Why couldn't she just shut up?
"One of us must do this, it is the only way." Yummy Elf to the rescue. Willow was definitely going to have to find out his name.
"And I suppose you think you should be the one," the dwarf, Gimli, bellowed. "I'll die before I see an Elf in possession of the ring of power. Never trust an Elf!"
The council erupted into chaos. Everyone was fighting. Gandalf jumped from his seat and noble man started fighting with him. It was not going well.
The ring loved the fighting. She could almost imagine it crowing in happiness. Willow was taking a serious disliking to that thing.
She heard a soft whimper. She looked over at Frodo; he was clutching his head, as if in pain. Sweat beads were forming on his forehead. The poor darling was in torment. She pressed her fingers against his temples. He shut his eyes and a vision hit them both.
An eye, encased in flames. It was laughing, it loved the chaos.
Frodo opened his eyes and looked at Willow. "I will take it," he whispered.
Willow closed her eyes in resignation. A tear leaked out. She had hoped the hobbits would have been able to return to their home, the Shire. It sounded so lovely; the hobbits were in love with it. Now, she could see it was not going to happen. Frodo's life was so intricately woven with the fate of the ring, it was hard for her to see where one ends or the other begins.
"I will take it," louder this time, drawing everyone's attention. "I will take the ring into Mordor." The fighting stopped, everyone stared at the hobbit.
"Only, I do not know the way," Frodo finished hesitantly.
Willow stepped up behind him. "I'm going with him," she stated firmly. "Not like I know the way or anything, but I'm going. Maybe you could give the kid a map or something, cause I'm no real help with those things."
Gandalf smiled at them proudly. "My dear children," he came towards them with arms outstretched. "You will not bear this burden alone. I will carry it with you, however long it is yours to bear." Willow and Frodo were enveloped into a large, fatherly hug.
Strid- no Aragorn, also approached the two. "By my life or death, I will protect you. My sword is at your disposal."
There was the Angel-ness again. Now she knew where it came from, Angel.
"And my bow!" Yea! Yummy Elf was coming.
"And my axe!" The dwarf. Maybe he had some redeeming qualities.
Noble man looked hard at the volunteers. Willow returned his steady gaze with her resolve face.
"The fate of us all is on your shoulders. We're all counting on you, little ones," he stated.
Willow guessed that was his way of volunteering.
There was a burst of rustling behind them.
"Hey!" Sam emerged from the bushes of the garden. He skittered out to stand beside Frodo.
"Mr. Frodo isn't going anywhere without me," he declared firmly. Willow smirked and pulled leaves out of his hair. He gave her a warm smile.
"Indeed, it would not be so," Elrond affirmed sarcastically. "It is hardly possible to separate you two, even when he is invited to a secret council and you are not." Sam had the sense to look slightly shamed.
"We're coming too!" came a shriek, followed by the pattering of footsteps.
Merry and Pippin raced out behind from two pillars. Elrond looked about ready to blow. Willow snickered and swept Pippin up into her arms.
"He had us tied up in a potato sack to keep us away," he informed her indignantly.
Willow raised her eyebrows in amusement. "You certainly showed him, didn't ya?"
Pippin nodded emphatically. "Besides," he continued. "You need people of intelligence on this sort of a question . . . Quest . . . Thing."
Merry rolled his eyes. "Well that leaves you out, doesn't it Pippin." Willow giggled some more. The whole ordeal was ridiculous. She hugged the young hobbit in her arms more closely.
Elrond was smiling again. "Very well," he agreed. "One Lady of the light and nine warriors to accompany her. You shall be known as the Fellowship of the Ring."
Pippin was ecstatic. "So," he began amiably. "Where are we going?"
*****
Willow had to find Aragorn. Yep, she had finally deprogrammed the Strider out of her. She was looking for ARAGORN.
And she was having a damn hard time. She wished the hobbits were here to help her look, but they were spending quality time with their old friend Bilbo. He was quite the character, but Willow sensed he needed time alone with the younger hobbits. So she had gone off, to find Aragorn, and having no luck whatsoever.
"That's it!" she fumed, plopping down on the numerous benches of the palace. "I officially give up."
"Give up what, My Lady?" Willow glanced up. Boromir, noble guy.
Willow shrugged her shoulders. "I need to talk to Aragorn," she answered, timidly. Not that he was intimidating or anything, in fact he was quite nice. Willow still felt wholly out of place with anyone but her hobbit friends. And Aragorn, Angel's blood.
Boromir smiled kindly at her. "I saw him naught a moment ago," he offered, pointing down the hall. "He was talking with Legolas."
Thanking him, Willow raced down the hall. She had some serious things to discuss with Mr. Lets-keep-my-heritage-a-secret.
She found him in deep discussion with Legolas, the Yummy Elf. Willow reddened. She was having a tougher time deprogramming that one out of her. Both looked up at her cough.
"I need to talk to Aragorn," she stated quietly. Aragorn looked down at the floor. He knew what was coming.
Legolas smiled agreeably and left without saying a word. Well actually he did say something, but it totally flew over Willow's head after he smiled. Damn, the boy was fine!
At the rate her thoughts were going, Willow was probably burst into flames. She had a hard time thinking productive thoughts when the handsome Elf was around. It didn't make much sense to her. After all, she just broke up with Tara, the woman she loved. Willow was a lesbian, wasn't she? Her head hurt, she couldn't understand much of her own feelings. But the boy was fine! She just prayed no one else noticed the mammoth-sized crush she was developing on Legolas.
Aragorn offered her a seat. She took it without saying a word. He sat beside her, also wordless. The talk was getting off to a grand start.
Finally, after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, Willow turned to look Aragorn right in the eyes.
"Why didn't you tell me you're a descendant of Angel's?"
Aragorn sighed. "My apologies, dear Willow. I am not proud to be the heir of Isildur. When I initially met you and the hobbits, I decided it was best not to tell you I was the heir of the Betrayer. It fills me with great shame, I did not want you to know."
"Why?"
"I did not want you to think less of me for it."
"Why would I think less of you for it? It wasn't your fault Isildur did what he did."
"But don't you see?" he turned pleading eyes on her. "I am his heir. The same blood that flows through mine veins was his. The same weakness-"
"NO!" Willow stood up, visibly angry. "Don't you dare to ashamed of the blood that runs through your veins. Yes, it belonged to Isildur once too, but it is not the bearer of weakness or evil. It is the noblest blood, greatest heritage that anyone can claim."
Aragorn looked stunned. "How so?"
She sighed and sat back down. "Do you know of Angelus?" He nodded.
"Right. Angelus was a vampire, a horrible vampire. He was called the Scourge of Europe, he did terrible things. Then one day, he went and royally pissed off some Romanian gypsies. They cursed him with a human soul. The demon was subdued, and Angelus was left with the guilt of thousands of deaths by his hand. He nearly gave up. Crawled into alleyways, fed off rats, and lived quite the pathetic existence for over 100 years.
Then, a demon came to see him. Well, a half demon named Whistler, who was actually one of the good guys. He cleaned him up and took him to Los Angeles, California. Whistler showed him a girl, a beautiful blond girl who stole his heart at first sight. She was Buffy Summers, the Vampire Slayer.
Soon, she was moved to Sunnydale, the Hellmouth. He followed her. She lived as normally as one could, being the person standing between the world and hell. She had friends. A British librarian who loved to read and wore tons of tweed. A goofy young man whose bravery was unbound. And a tiny meek little hacker girl whom Buffy brought out of her shell. That hacker was I, and I became the Slayer's best friend.
Angel, as he now called himself, watched over Buffy and her friends. He saved my life more than once. He shared a love with Buffy that was so beautiful and entirely painful. They tried as hard as they could, but a vampire and a slayer were not meant to be.
He went back to LA; he started an agency there. He spent his life helping the helpless. His soul was strong, and he passed that strong soul onto his son, Connor. You guys call him the Savior. So, you see, the blood you have in your veins is perfect blood. Blood of brave warriors. It's not the blood that causes weakness. It's the person's soul. And you have a good soul, a part of Angel's soul is in you."
"How can you be so sure?" he whispered faintly.
Willow tipped his face up to look him in the eyes.
"Because I'm the one who gave him that soul. I can kind of sense it like a mile away," she answered calmly.
He stared at her amazed.
"You gave Angelus his soul?"
Willow nodded. He turned away, as if contemplating her words. Then his eyes dimmed and he opened his mouth to speak again.
"No!" she interrupted before he could even begin.
"No more whining and self doubt. You're a great guy, worthy to be called Angel's heir. No use arguing about it mister. I'm more than ready to whip out the old Resolve Face."
Aragorn closed his mouth and smiled.
Then he frowned, as if confused.
"What is a 'Resolve Face'?"
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