DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters in this story. They belong to Joss Whedon, J.R.R. Tolkien, and their other respective owners.
A/N ABOUT THIS STORY: As you can tell, I've taken several scenes directly from Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Lord of the Rings, word-for-word in the dialogue. This is not to rip off any of the real writers because I respect their work and I am not a plagiarist. This is an artistic ploy to put the reader in the mindset of where they are and is essential to the story. The Buffy episodes used were episodes (5.5) "No Place Like Home," written by Doug Petrie and (5.22) "The Gift," written by Joss Whedon. The movies used are, of course, Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring and Lord of the Rings: Return of the King, written by Frances Walsh, Philippa Boyens and Peter Jackson, based on the books by J.R.R. Tolkien (if you didn't know that, shame, shame).
'--------' Indicates flashback. '====' indicates end of flashback.
Angel, clad in a dark, grayish-green button shirt and black pants, stood in the middle of his office inside the Hyperion Hotel holding the telephone receiver to his ear, still unable to comprehend what was going on around him. He swallowed hard as Giles' talked to him over the phone with his familiar British accent and textbook vocabulary.
"Are you getting this?" Giles declared on the other line, pulling Angel's attention back to the conversation. "Angel?"
"I-I'm still not sure what's going on," Angel answered, finally. "Giles, you're telling me that Buffy, Willow, Xander and – of all people – Spike are in another dimension—"
"And there's only one way to get them out," Giles replied, cutting him off with a nervous tone. He stood in the middle of the hospital at a pay phone while Tara, Anya and Dawn stood anxiously nearby. "We believe it concerns you."
"How? What does this have to do with me?" Angel asked, still confused.
Giles declared with worry, "You're probably supposed to fight the Dark Lord."
"Wha..." Angel answered, shaking his head, "What Dark Lord? And how did they get there in the first place?"
"The trance!" Giles exclaimed, breathing heavily. "Cloutier. 'Pull the curtain back.' Cloutier told us about a Champion, a Demon, a Loving Heart and a Bearer of Power. You fit the description of all of those. You're probably needed as a balance—"
"How does that work—?"
"Angel," Giles breathed with a calmer voice that revealed his desperation, "if you do not succeed in getting Buffy back before the sun sets, we'll lose her forever." The watcher heard nothing but silence on the other end.
Angel finally answered with a determined tone as everything became clear to him, "I'm already there."
Galadriel was bathed in warm sunlight as she stood on the shores of Lórien with her motherly hand extended towards the river as three canoes floated by. Four members of the Fellowship sat in each of the wooden canoes: Buffy, Aragorn, Frodo and Sam in the first, Boromir, Spike, Merry and Pippin in the second, and Legolas, Gimli, Willow and Xander in the third.
Buffy sat in the front of her canoe with an oar in hands while Aragorn propelled the boat from the back, Frodo and Sam between them. She looked to her left to see Galadriel standing at the water's edge, clad in a white, shimmering robe. Buffy's eyes once again locked with Galadriel's deep blue eyes and then she could hear the elf-witch's voice in her head, remembering the last meeting between them before the Fellowship boarded the boats.
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"[Listen to your heart, Slayer,]" Galadriel had said to Buffy by way of telepathy. "[You are wise beyond your years. You will know what to do when your time comes. Fear not the Beast or the one who does not belong. When your world is uncertain, believe in your love and your purpose shall be made clear.]"
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Buffy continued to stare at Galadriel, unsure of what she had meant. She had once believed that she could overlook the small things she did not understand about this world, just as she had overlooked the things in her world that made no sense. Her heart saddened and her mind grew grim. There was nothing in either world that made sense to her anymore.
Boromir could not stand to look at Galadriel or at Buffy, for that matter. During their stay in Lothlórien, Buffy and Boromir had shared another conversation.
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"And when you return," Boromir asked her as they stood in the middle of the heavenly forest, "what is to become of us?"
"Us?" she repeated in confusion.
"Of you and I," Boromir explained, bearing his heart to her. "Of our—"
"Friendship," Buffy finished with a half-smile that took pity on him. She regretfully declared, "We'll always be friends."
"Companions?" Boromir tried hard to keep his smile from fading.
She slowly nodded her head apologetically, "There's no other way."
=====
There's no other way, Boromir thought to himself, repeating it over and over again. No other way.
Hours passed of silent rowing down the mighty river, leading to their next destination and Willow finally stirred uncomfortably. "Oh," Willow breathed uneasily as she sat next to Gimli in Legolas' boat.
"Is everything all right, young lass?" Gimli asked.
"This might be a bad time to mention this," Willow weakly declared, "but I get sea sick."
"Oh, my," Gimli replied deeply. "That's quite unfortunate. That is one of the good things about dwarfs. Dwarfs never fall under illness by sea. Or by land." The dwarf laughed whole-heartedly while Willow clutched her stomach and clenched her teeth. "One could go up... or down... or side to side..."
"Oh!" Willow gagged as her face turned colors and she clutched the edge of the canoe.
In Boromir's boat, Merry and Pippin sat in between Boromir and Spike, Spike taking the bow and Boromir manning the stern. Both man and demon grimaced as they steadily rowed down the river, keeping up with the other two boats. They had turned it into a silent rowing match, trying to see who would tire first.
Boromir's chest and torso heaved, his side beginning to ache, as he pulled the oar through the water. "Givin' out, old man?" Spike asked as he grinned at the front of the canoe, not casting a backwards glance at his human shipmate.
"No," Boromir glared up at the back of Spike's head, spite in his eyes. "Are you beginning to tire, demon?" Spike's temper shifted upwards a notch as Boromir said the last word, spitting it out at him.
Demon, Spike thought. No matter what he did that's all he would ever be. That's all he was to the man behind him. That's all he was to the Scoobies. Spike glanced over to his right into Aragorn's boat. That's all he would ever be to Buffy.
Spike watched Buffy as she steadily rowed down the river at the front of the boat, her lovely face clouded with worry. She had been racking her brain with some dire problem since the day they came to Lórien. He had so many times wondered what things painfully twisted her mind and wished that she would let him give her comfort.
Something that Soldier Boy obviously can't handle, he thought to himself. The thought of Riley made his stomach turn with disgust. Buffy would turn him away and run to someone like Captain Cardboard every night? Spike could love her in ways that Riley couldn't begin to understand. What was it going to take to get her to see that? What did he have to do?
It was all hopeless. Stupid and hopeless. He knew in his heart that Buffy would never give him a second glance next to Miss Iowa. Not unless...
Spike looked at the person sitting behind Buffy in the canoe. Frodo. The hobbit's eyes were clouded with his own problems, the weight of the Ring pushing down on him. He would crack under the torture. Spike was sure of it because he'd seen it in so many of his victims before. There's no way that the Halfling could hold on to that Ring forever.
Spike could keep the Ring. He figured he could take it to Mordor himself, without the Fellowship. What would Buffy think of him then? The thought of Buffy convinced him fully. That's exactly what I'll do... he thought. Should he wait for the opportune moment when Frodo gives up the Ring?
No... he mused, as a smile stretched across his face, I'll take it from him myself. Frodo was a hobbit, not a human and most likely immune to the protection of Spike's chip. Spike's stomach began to grumble as hunger clawed at him. Perhaps it would have been better if he'd never had the blood in Lothlórien, because now it burned in his body.
He wanted something more.
Spike's eyes were practically chained to Frodo as he watched the hobbit reach down for the chain around his neck. Spike saw the small sparkle of the Ring shining in the sunlight. The Ring... he thought, now beginning to wonder if he should keep it for himself. The Ring...
The vampire could hear a dark, twisted, evil voice whisper in the back of his mind.
"William..."
"Ahh!" Spike called out, nearly dropping the oar as he clutched his skull in pain. The chip fired and seared inside his brain, sharply scolding him for his malicious thoughts. Boromir, Merry and Pippin looked up in confusion as they watched the vampire twist in agony.
"Bloody hell!" Spike spat in disgust as the pain slowly began to recede.
"Don't wear yourself out," Boromir grinned as he continued to row. "Might let the Halflings take over the job for you?" Spike looked back at him with a hateful stare and hastily turned around, shoving the oar back into the water and forcefully pushing it through.
"Man," Xander breathed tiredly as he rowed at the front of Legolas' boat. His muscles ached and throbbed as he dripped with sweat. "This looked so much easier on Dawson's Creek. What kind of ungodly network would lie to us with a show like that?"
Willow gasped suddenly as she sat up straight in the boat.
"What?" Xander exclaimed. "You think someone can look that pretty while they're rowing? I'd bet money they were tugging James around in that damn boat—"
"No," Willow breathed, unnerved, "not that." Her mind was racing as she thought to herself.
"Something's disturbed you," Legolas declared, staring at her with intense blue eyes. Willow and Xander both stared up at him incredulously.
"Thanks," said Xander, nodding.
"What's wrong, dear?" Gimli asked.
Willow breathed heavily, "I heard Tara..."
"It's working, Giles," Tara declared, standing in the middle of Giles' living room with he and Dawn. "I-I think I was able to contact her. But only for a second, then... I lost her again."
"That's fine," Giles nodded. "At least we know she's still able enough to make a connection."
Anya marched through the door carrying a thick book with a partially-charred cover. "I've got it!" she declared, handing the Middle Earth book to Giles. "It was on fire, but I think its okay. I used your silk blazer that you keep in your office to put it out."
Giles looked up at her as she said it, "U-uh, v-very well. Quick thinking." He went to the kitchen for a drink, handing the book to Dawn. "Now would you mind explaining, y-your theory one more time?"
Dawn took the book and opened it, flipping past the partially-burned pages until she found a picture of Sauron in his black armor. "That's definitely him," Tara declared, pointing at the drawing.
"That doesn't make any sense," Dawn replied as she read the text beneath the picture. "This says that he was defeated a long time ago and can't become corporeal again."
"He was corporeal once, though?" Anya remarked. "Maybe that's the version of Sauron that came through the portal in the Magic Box."
"What you mean like an alternate reality version?" Dawn answered. "That's insane."
"Trust me," Anya declared. "I know all about alternate realities. I made them everyday. That's how I got into this mortal body in the first place, remember?"
Tara looked over into Giles' kitchen as he sipped a glass of brandy, "Giles, is it possible that we could've fought a version of Sauron from the past?"
He swallowed the beverage hard and nodded, "Yes, I-I suppose it is. Portals can be outlets to any number of realities and time periods. Th-the very ingredients of a portal revolve around incongruity in a dimension. As a consequence, many different anomalies can take place – time displacement being one of them."
"Time displacement," Tara repeated, thinking deeply.
Dawn continued to read the text inside the book, "It says here that Sauron was defeated by a man named Isildur, the son of the King at the time. He used the broken blade of some sword called Narsil and cut off a bunch of Sauron's fingers."
Tara looked over to Dawn and asked, "Does it say anything specific about the person who can wield Narsil?"
"Well," she began, "it says that only the heir of the throne can wield the Sword of the King."
"In their world," Tara nodded then glanced over to Giles, her mind sparkling with contemplation, "but what about it our world? Angel may be the one who's supposed to get our friends back, but what happens if Sauron comes through the portal again? Maybe Angel's supposed to fight him."
"Well, that would make sense," Giles declared, coming out of the kitchen and walking into the living room. Giles put the puzzle together in his mind, "Isildur slew Sauron."
"Which would make him a Champion," Dawn declared.
"Yes, but he was also responsible for not destroying the Ring," Giles replied, "if I remember correctly."
"Can you blame him?" Anya shrugged. "He's only human."
"Exactly," he declared. "Each of us, as humans, has our own... metaphorical demons that we must face." Giles paced across the living room, "Isildur was heir to the King – a significant power on its own. And until it was corrupted—"
"He must have had a loving heart," Dawn finished.
"So what you're saying is," Anya replied, "Angel is this dimension's equivalent to the heir to the throne?"
"Basically, yes," Giles responded.
"Which means he can wield Narsil," Tara declared.
"But Narsil was destroyed," Dawn said. "It was smashed into a bunch of pieces. Unless they've got a Radio Shack, I'd say that Light Saber's pretty much fried."
"That's where a time displacement spell comes in," Tara replied with a hopeful expression, and then she turned to Giles. "If Sauron can come in from a different time, so can Narsil. I just need to find the right spell that'll bring Narsil, hopefully unbroken, into this dimension where Angel can use it against him."
"Splendid," Giles smiled, putting his glass down. He turned towards the grandfather clock near the entrance to the living room as its minute hand moved another notch on its golden face. His smile faded as he read the time on the clock: 6:43. "We haven't much time," Giles declared gravely.
They turned towards the front door at the sound of a knock. Giles announced subtly before he moved to the door, "He's here."
Most of the Fellowship gathered in front of a fireplace on the riverbank, their three boats grounded in front of them. "They're trying to contact us," Willow declared, sitting in between Buffy and Xander, the three of them separated from the rest of the Fellowship by several feet. "I could feel Tara trying to speak to me," she smiled. "I could feel her with me... I could even smell her."
"Which must be great," Xander nodded, "but what does this all mean?"
"I think it means that the walls between our world and that world are getting a whole lot weaker," Buffy declared with a sigh.
"Which means we're coming close to our window of opportunity," Willow explained. "If we haven't already missed it."
Xander said to Buffy, "What do you mean 'our world and that world?' Isn't 'that' world ours to begin with?"
Buffy looked up at Xander, not knowing what to say. What Galadriel had said to her was beginning to come true. A shiver ran up her spine as she glanced over at Aragorn. "Right," she breathed uneasily. "That's what I meant."
From across the riverbank, Boromir dragged the last boat out of the water. He glanced across the way towards the fire and caught sight of Buffy. His emotions were a mixture of pleasantness and pain, but just the sight of her forced a smile on his face.
She's looking at something, he noted. Not at me. Curiously, he followed her point of view to the man pulling one of the other boats out of the water.
Aragorn.
Boromir looked back at Buffy as she watched the heir to the throne intently, her mind sinking deeper and deeper in ambivalent indecision. He immediately felt rejected, even worse than he had when Buffy had told him about Riley. This was far more than her loving someone else. She loved him. She loved the King.
Boromir stood up hastily and stomped off into the woods, not being able to watch her look at him. A single phrase repeated in his mind like a broken record. There's no other way, he said to himself. No other way.
"What can we do to help?" Xander asked Willow. "Something to make us more... findable?"
"I'm not sure," Willow shrugged. "I know there's a spell to make our auras more prevalent, but I don't know how to do it. I would consult Giles' books, but you know, with the whole other dimension and all."
"Maybe we can come up with something," Xander suggested. "Little herbs, little powder, little chanting... bake, shake, and walah! Our auras are shiner than the top of Dr. Phil's head."
"There is something I know," Willow answered. "But it involves the bones of a Karthop demon and a whole lotta newt."
"Ugh, please," Xander's face twisted, thinking of the flying limbs in Moria. "I don't wanna hear that word 'bone' ever again." A small smile curved onto his face, "Well, maybe not ever..."
Willow gave him a glare, "Go see if there's something to eat."
"Now, that I can do," Xander nodded. "No use trying to think on an empty stomach." He stood up and walked over towards the fire where Sam was sitting by himself with a downtrodden expression. Xander stopped and stared hesitantly, then walked over and sat down beside him. "What's wrong, buddy?" he asked.
"Oh," Sam looked up at him, snapping out of his trance, "nothing, Mr. Xander."
"No, seriously," Xander replied, "what's up? Besides most of the things and people in your world."
Sam stared up at him, trying to smile, then shyly began, "It's just... This has all been such a long journey..." Sam shook his head, "I didn't realize how hard it would be to bear."
"That's what I said after watching Dances with Wolves," Xander declared. "But I know what you mean. Thinking about backing out?"
"Oh, no," Sam declared strongly. "Not for anything. It's just... I don't..." He let the words fade away as he stared around at the different people in the Fellowship. "I want to help, but I don't know how useful I am. Everyone contributes something, and... well, I just wish I could contribute more."
The sentence trailed off with sadness as Xander's smile faded. He stared at him seriously, "Listen up close. There's nothing embarrassing or shameful about being a sideman. I happen to know that very well." Sam looked up at Xander and was slightly surprised by the depth in his voice.
"People like you and me, Sam," Xander continued, "they need us. And I mean really. We don't have superpowers and we're not chosen, but we give them something that they don't have. Relief. And not just the comic kind."
Sam and Xander looked over at Buffy and Willow as Xander declared, "We may not be the ones who save the world, but we rescue the ones who do." He turned to Sam and looked him in the eyes, "And that is a fight that we don't ever back out of."
Spike's eyes opened wide after having drifted off into a nap while sitting against a fallen stone pillar. The vampire gazed around at the wooded setting and went through a checklist in his mind. Buffy and Red were over by a rock, King Arthur was chatting with Goldilocks, little Rob Zombie and Xander were babysitting the three kids by the fire.
Spike stopped and pressed rewind. There were only three hobbits around. Frodo was missing. Had to be the important one, Spike rolled his eyes. With a sigh, he sat up to go tell Buffy or someone else who'd help when he realized who else was missing.
Boromir.