But A Dream
Title: But A Dream
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Buffy the Vampire Slayer / Lord of the Rings Crossover
Teaser: This is the reason why Elves should never admit why they're wrong and why Slayers with superpowers should keep their mouths closed.
Summary: This is my Secret Santa present for Jesse who requested this pairing specifically. As I was one of the people who received help on collaboration, I chose to repay the said helper by writing a drabble-like fiction for her person, which happened to be our Jess. For some odd reason, my mind came up with this. It is Buffy/Haldir. I wrote it because I had this idea, and this couple was perfect for it.
Spoilers: None, really. Takes place eons before the events in The Lord of the Rings. Set post Season 7 in Buffy the Vampire Slayer-era.
Disclaimer: I don't own either Lord of the Rings or Buffy the Vampire Slayer. This plot was requested.
Request: Jesse requested a nice happy fluffy fiction with Buffy silliness and Elvish seriousness. She didn't care whether or not there was a relationship, but considering I am already writing a Buffy and Legolas fiction, I decided to try my hand at a different elf. More details to be given once December 24, noon rolls around. For details on the challenge (in case you need inspiration of your own), feel free to check out the site within my profile. This is probably the only Buffy/Haldir fiction you'll get for awhile, until I finish what I'm already working on anyway. On the plus-side, two weeks until graduation!
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But A Dream
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Buffy Summers was not a happy person.
At the moment, she was standing on the edge of the forest surrounded by Elvish guards who had, once again, decided she was something far too fragile to release out into the open fields. Why should they care? It's not as though they actually appreciated the fact that a human woman had dropped down on them from nowhere. She had arrived chasing one of her many demons through the streets of Cleveland. The creature had decidedly opened a portal, and suddenly the familiar streets and rundown buildings of the Ohio city disappeared completely, leaving Buffy standing in the middle of a forest.
One little attack and a deep bite on the arm later, Buffy finally returned to her chase, killing the creature that Willow had been trying to warn her about for days. Buffy had been tracking it, trying to hone in her new tracking abilities.
The only thing they hadn't told her is that it could create temporal portals.
Which left her stuck inside a large forest alone in the darkness, feeling even more sullen. If her situation hadn't been any more dire, she would have started laughing. It was nothing but a dream. She could finally breathe smog-free air. She could finally stop and 'smell the roses' and 'watch the grass grow', as Giles was telling her she had to do before she aged to a point where she was "no fun anymore", which is how Dawn saw it.
Maybe Buffy was a little run-down for her age. Still, turning thirty wasn't completely bad. She hadn't been dead in nearly ten years, so that had to be a positive. The Slayers Academy was well underway, with hundreds of girls training under the watchful leadership of the new Watcher's Council. They really had no need for a parenting Slayer anymore. All they really needed was someone who could actually fight the demons while they learned about their demonic body parts.
So Buffy wasn't a patient person. She'd never had much reason for patience. She saw something evil and she killed it.
That was probably the one reason why she had attacked the Elf as soon as it had sprung upon her. He had come from nowhere, all tall, blonde and mysterious. Aloof, she called him. Needless to say, her first encounter of another human being-like creature in this forest hadn't been pretty. The Elf had come at her from behind, tackling her into the grasses and completely destroying the remains of a once stylish ensemble. That had made her cranky. The worst part is that the Elf didn't come to play alone. He'd brought with him a dozen other Elves who had bows and arrows along with matching arrogant smirks. This made her angry.
And then she decided to strike.
Why, of all places in this bloody universe, did she have to end up in a throng of males with an advanced superiority complex? They were no fun to be around, much less attempt a conversation with. She had barely gotten off two punches before an arrow landed in her arm, stopping her progress. After fixing her patented death glare upon the entire group, she collapsed as the energy from her travels overcame her.
The next few months hadn't been fun. She'd gone through different periods of depression at the realization that she was stuck in this godforsaken place, without a hope in the world. At first she'd been sulky and demanding, especially to the Elf-queen, or whatever she was. Galadriel was her name, and Buffy didn't like her in the beginning. She was far too immaculate to be any type of woman Buffy could like, until she realized that Galadriel carried with her great power and thus responsibility. As someone who had had her destiny for half of her life, Buffy understood what that meant. It also meant a certain degree of questions. Those she could answer. She could show the Elves with their fancy bows the carcass of the creature she'd killed. She could tell them that she had superpowers of her own. She could prove she had these powers by kicking their Elvish bodies three ways from Sunday. Yet, it would not accomplish anything.
Because Buffy Summers could not go home. She would not go home. It was unlikely another creature would suddenly spring up and offer her a chance to return to her shared Hellmouth.
That brought along the second phase of her depression, which was denial and eventual acceptance. She began to see Elves as more than just overly mature, aloof and rather clean individuals. She started to see them as people. Galadriel and her husband, a man that Buffy frequently couldn't place his name, were both kind and compassionate to her. They truly cared about what her role in this world would be. The possibilities were endless. With her skills, namely in tracking and killing foul, evil creatures, she could defend the paradise she'd been wandering around for the past six months. Or, she could go to any other anti-paradise and probably get herself really, really dead because she didn't know what was coming.
For some odd reason, she opted for choice number one. The fact was, they saw her power as an asset. Galadriel saw right through her façade and truly believed that Buffy had these mystical powers. Buffy knew she had them. She didn't want any of the others to know.
Understandably, Buffy denied everything when Galadriel had asked her about them. But just looking into her cerulean eyes, she began to understand that Galadriel wasn't an idiot; she simply had the grace and skill to read minds.
It was a skill Buffy would give anything to have, until she reminded herself of the time she possessed that skill, and her mouth snapped shut.
Wishing in any realm could be a really, really bad thing.
Buffy had finally compromised with the Elvish Queen. She had agreed to go out on patrols with the Elvish scouts to see if she could be of any use in hunting the creatures they constantly defended their realm against. Feeling as though she could finally do something besides wander around aimlessly for days on end, Buffy prepared herself to go.
The only problem was, she was to be under the supervision of Haldir, the Marchwarden of these particular Elves. He'd been the one that found her in the forest a half year before, and he hadn't forgotten the encounter. There was a certain amount of pride the Elves had. His ego had to be bruised by the fact she was both stronger and faster than he had been in their first meeting. Well, she wasn't about to play any nancy-girl for any Elf, considering she was the Slayer and not just some wannabe huntress. She had a voice. It was time she learned to use it again.
The problem was, her intelligence in this world was nil compared to what Willow, Xander, Giles and Dawn could come up with. In other words, Haldir didn't prepare her for what was to come nor did he supply her with any weaponry. Her first encounter with an Orc had been one of amusement. She had a feeling Haldir wanted to show her up by fingering his beautifully-crafted knife as he watched the Slayer pummel the Orc with her bare hands.
He was only disappointed when she didn't get hit. Once. Although her clothing was mucked up from the battle, she wasn't bleeding. With an air of particular aloofness, he led her onward with his guards into a real skirmish. Once again, she fought without a weapon.
She didn't need one.
He had to grudgingly admit that Galadriel had been right about her – she was most entertaining in battle. She had a grace and poise that not many women of the Elf-kind possessed, and it only made her that more endearing, or infuriating, depending on which way he wanted to look at it. As the Elves stood in their neat little rows, she fought off the Orc one by one until there were just bloody carcasses at her feet. Rising, she crossed her arms, turned to him, and smirked.
"Is this all you got, Pretty Boy?"
She had been calling him that for weeks now, ever since they'd departed Caras Galadhon, or as she preferred to call it, the tree city. He was rather amused by the fact that she was so resistant to accepting any part of the Elvish culture. It was offensive, of course, but mostly it amused him. She spoke in a tongue unknown to all of them. And yet she was a refreshing breath of air, a cold breeze after a warm summer.
Now, dressed in a long green tunic stained with black blood, she ambled back to him and moved between him and his brother, snorting impatiently. He just relaxed his grip on his bow and gave the order to return to the forest, as this skirmish was now over.
Once again, the little blonde-haired human woman had shown them up. Not that they couldn't have shown her up, but the prospect of seeing this girl in action was truly appealing. It was better than dirtying their hands with the oily blood of the soiled Orc, anyway.
She, however, was completely against this arrogance.
He had ordered his men to give her privacy so she could clean up a bit. After an hour, though, he started to worry. She was rather independent when it came to the Elves, preferring to hold onto her own culture and mores instead of adopting those of the world that she was now 'stuck' in. She may have defected and gone back into the forest, which, in any case, was a foolish idea. She may be a strong, powerful woman, but there was evil in the forest of Mirkwood that didn't sleep. And if she wasn't careful, she would come upon the Misty Mountains, and those alone weren't passable for any man and especially a woman.
He gave his brothers Rúmil and Orophin into the darkness to search for her and found himself following a familiar path.
He came to a spot where the rock fell away down into a small basin of water, a waterfalls crashing over the glistening rocks above. There, down at the bottom, half-emerged in the water, was the woman. She was singing tunelessly as she rinsed her hair and he found himself watching her despite his reservations. From what he could see, and he could see much for his enhanced eyesight, she was a sight to behold. She had the most beautiful muscle tone that he had ever seen from this distance, and he was still so far away.
However, she also had the enhanced hearing sense and she turned around in the darkness, her arms moving to cover herself up. "Who's there?" she called out into the darkness. "I know it's one of you Pretty Boys, because you're all with the glow-y. Now come out before I come up there and beat you out."
Haldir took a step back, hoping this would be enough to ease her suspicions. The last thing he needed now was another confrontation that he would be on the losing end of. She wasn't in a good temperament, and he decided to leave her be.
After recalling the others, Buffy appeared in their camp less than an hour later, looking miserable and grumpy.
Which was why, the following morning as they once again stood patrol on the edge of the forest, she wasn't in a good mood.
She was certain someone had been spying on her the night before. She didn't think Galadriel would give those kind of orders to any of these… guards. The Marchwarden seemed to be amused with the fact she was uncomfortable around two dozen holier-than-thou Elves. This just made her angrier. Throughout the day, she tried subtle methods of picking fights with the different Elves. The only reason they didn't take the bait, she was later told, was because they didn't speak the Western tongue.
Well, bully for them. It just gave her another reason to not trust these creatures. Why should she? They had taken her back to a place where all anyone ever did was mope around and sing. It was a beautiful city despite that, albeit one she still couldn't pronounce, along with Celeborn, the Lord of the lands.
That, and the simple fact that this was almost too easy for them. Who did they think they were? They acted as though she were far beneath them and expendable enough to send into any extreme circumstance. She was the Slayer, for crying out loud, and the only one in this world. There was no Faith or Kennedy or Rona to replace her if she died. There was only one.
And suddenly, the thought was appealing. She was the only one.
She didn't have to share a Hellmouth anymore. She didn't have to share anything, except a camp with an arrogant Elf who thought that spying on her for his own hapless amusement was entertaining. She was going to triple the torture on him. She'd find a way. She always did.
Upon their return to Caras Galadhon, Haldir had much to report. Galadriel and Celeborn stopped to listen as their Marchwarden told them about their Slayer. She was an excellent fighter. She improvised and fought with everything that she could use within grasp, including her own body. He had seen the way she leveled an Orc by throwing herself into his sword and forcing the poor beast to impale himself.
It was then that Buffy's fate was decided. She was brought before Galadriel and Celeborn and they told her that she was more than welcome to join their guard. They still didn't know why she was here, but the mere fact she was seemed like a gift from the Valar. This prompted Buffy to ask questions, and hence her acceptance of this world had finally begun.
The Valar, it turned out, were mystical beings that lived on an island in the far west. The Elves took a ship to this island to dwell there until the end of their days. This was perhaps the reason why Galadriel couldn't answer how old she was. It was because she didn't know. She was timeless.
For a Slayer about to turn thirty, it was something else to hear that an Elf was about to turn ten thousand. Buffy imagined what her life would be like after ten thousand years, but couldn't work out past a hundred. She would have grown bored by then and staked herself.
As the months passed on, Buffy continued to join more parties and went along with the guards on many escorting missions. She was often given as an aide to Haldir's team, because she knew the Western tongue rather well, despite her rather ingratiating habit of fluxing the English language. There were other instances when she went out alone, and she often enjoyed these. The Elves knew enough to give her space and for this she was most grateful.
Buffy didn't know how much time had passed between her arrival and her first real mission. It must have been over a year, considering her watch had stopped working months before. She used to carve days into the bark of the tree she lived in, but had stopped doing that once the Elves became quite defensive about her ruining their precious trees.
They were to escort Lady Galadriel to Rivendell to meet her son-in-law, Lord Elrond. The thought of meeting another Elf was somewhat thrilling, and Buffy happily agreed to go on the mission.
Haldir, as Marchwarden, was obviously in charge of security. It was something he had counseled her in quite often. It was also something she ignored quite frequently.
They set off in late winter and started up the mountains. By then Buffy had started to learn the perils of crossing these hills, and had taken it upon herself to enhance her already visible tracking skills to seek out evil before it could kill anything important.
However, their journey was uneventful. Buffy found herself completely enjoying herself though. For once, she was in the company of another woman and one that didn't intend to fight every last creature just to save face before a few dozen snooty Elves. No, Galadriel was different. She was feminine, but in a completely different way. Buffy wanted to be feminine like that, but dressing in those incandescent gowns was asking a bit too much. And yet, the day before they entered the valley of Imladris, she was given her first opportunity to embrace the Elvish culture.
She decided that after a year and probably several months of resisting such culture, she might as well take what she could get.
But, as she glanced at herself in the soft fabric the color of the inside of a seashell, she realized something else. All she needed was a pair of Vulcan ears and she was as good as one of them. Well, that and stilts. Preferably ones that would allow her to tower over Haldir so she could smirk at him for once.
And then she began to wonder why Haldir was suddenly occupying her thoughts so much as of late. He was her leader, her Marchwarden and her personal trainer all rolled into one. He was the reason why Celeborn was attempting to teach her how to speak in their fluent tongue. And he was also the reason why she was as skilled in tracking as his brothers were, although he wouldn't dare admit her skills had surpassed his own.
Buffy found that she was actually quite anxious to meet these other Elves. During their day's journey through the valley, Buffy got yet another history lesson. Elrond was the husband of Galadriel's late daughter Celebrían. He was one of the Peredhil, or half-Elven. As much as Buffy longed to learn about the world around her, she doubted the fact that Elrond was half-Elven would even help her when fighting the great forces of darkness.
Imladris itself was a paradise. It was very different from the one she'd left behind. This one left her in no doubt that the Elves actually deserved some of the respect that many gave them. She was actually breathless when the great Lord himself came to greet them. He was rather surprised to see a smaller woman in the service of Galadriel, and yet she was as stoic and proud as one of them. She could be a pint-sized Noldor for all he knew. And yet she bowed her head courteously and said, "Mae govannen."
Unfortunately, Elrond mistook this as the simple fact she knew the language and proceeded to speak to her in the Sindarin tongue until Galadriel gently intervened and informed him that she was not of this world, nor did she know much of the Elvish language.
While Galadriel and Elrond discussed whatever they needed to discuss, Buffy began to familiarize herself with her surroundings. She met Erestor and Glorfindel, both advisors to Elrond. She met the twin sons of Elrond, Elrohir and Elladan, both smart asses as far as she was concerned. To their eyes, she was an outsider only granted passage because she was a guard. Whatever. If they wanted a fight, she'd give him one. She was, as Andrew had told her time and time again, a gung-ho kind of gal.
She got her chance quickly enough. Returning from yet another quiet dinner alone to her room, she was attacked from behind by one of the twins, and she couldn't remember for the life of her how to distinguish between the two. All she knew was that he was on her back and under his weight, she fell.
Seeing this as a weakness, the Elf stood up and offered her his hand in apology. She took it before raising her cool gaze to his. His eyes didn't register the simple fact that he had just asked for it. She took him by the hand and with extraordinary strength that no woman should have been able to possess, she managed to fling him the entire length of the corridor. As he spun around, his back foolishly facing her, she took charge by rushing him, snarling. Back and forth they went before she finally gained the upper hand and flipped him over her shoulder. Once he staggered to his feet, she came at him again, both of them bursting through the window on one of the upper floors and falling two stories into the fountain below.
Once again, Buffy had proved why her strength was more than that of one of these exceedingly arrogant Elves.
Haldir, still in the valley on patrol duty, didn't hear much about this fight except that their Slayer had won. Correction: Galadriel had entrusted him to train the woman to fight as they would. So she was technically his Slayer, despite the fact he really never asked for her. He didn't want the responsibility of beholding something so beautifully reckless.
Especially since she had attacked one of the twin sons of Elrond.
After retreating to bathe, her wet dress sloshing all about her, Buffy met for the first time Elrond's daughter, Arwen.
For someone apparently young, she was a few thousand years older than Buffy, which brought her around to thinking about immortality. Once again, she thought she'd have to stake herself if she lived past one hundred, since she would have nothing left to do or see in her era as the first and the original Slayer.
Arwen was kind enough not to laugh when Buffy explained the reason why she was dripping wet and her temperament was that of a warg. The Elvish woman kindly drew her a bath, gave her a replacement gown, and warned her to expect retaliation.
It came while she was sleeping. She had been given guest quarters, her room right above Erestor's. Unfortunately for this advisor, hearing the sounds of a woman screaming and the wild, maniacal laughter of two twin Elves finally exacting their revenge wasn't his plan, especially since he'd sat in on the meetings for the past twelve hours.
The twins, despite the fact their father had warned them on several occasions to behave, had taken it upon themselves to lure rabbits and other small creatures into the room. Once there, they had given the animals a feast… over the sleeping body of their young visiting dignitary.
Needless to say, she wasn't amused.
"I didn't sign on to be treated as some fast food dispenser!" she growled, flicking lettuce from her hair and fixing a harsh glare on both twins.
"All humans love the little animals," Elladan said, arching one eyebrow in amusement of one very pissed off Slayer.
"And they certainly seem to like you," Elrohir snickered as a small sheep came forward and attempted to gnaw on her hand, still coated with honey.
It was then she started screaming and throwing things, including her bed, at the wayward twins who quickly muttered an apology and escaped before Erestor arrived, demanding to know why she was making such sound in the middle of the night.
By the time morning came, Buffy had begun to realize something. For some odd reason, this was her new reality. Dealing with Elves had become a way of life. Sure, they were arrogant little bastards when they wanted to be. And yet they had their endearing qualities. For some odd reason, the twins reminded her so dearly of Andrew. She would give anything to see him and then strangle him after he'd told her the creature she'd been tracking before she'd arrived here had no special powers.
The twins were rather cautious around her, but she wasn't going to retaliate after their stunt the previous night. Once they realized she had forgiven them, they became a lot more civil. They even offered her a weapon, her first weapon, in Rivendell. They also offered her some of the roast bunnies that had been dining on her bare skin.
She declined respectfully. She wasn't about to turn down two potential friends, and she had the idea that living with these two would be living a vastly unexpected life. Everything about them was spontaneous, despite the fact they were Elves. They just complemented her power so perfectly with their wry humor and their wicked little minds. She wasn't about to admit it, though.
After a week of being in the valley, Buffy began to realize she missed doing patrols. That night, she went to Galadriel and told the Lady of the Wood she was going to find the Marchwarden. After departing, she went out to search for the blonde Elf, finding him at last using her tracking skills. She had developed a keen approach to tracking him – his pheromones. How odd was that, she wondered darkly. She was attracted to this Elf's scent!
And it led her right to the spot where he was bathing.
Well, wasn't this a role reversal? Had it only been months before that he could have been spying on her? How would he feel if he knew she was standing above him, taking in every single inch of that ethereal Elvish skin and just waiting until the right moment where she could see more. All she could see now was his back, and well-crafted as it was, her eyes were drifting to below the surface of the water. A familiar longing claimed her and she found herself pulling back into the darkness as a single, impulsive thought came to her head.
Reckless, she forced her mind to say. It was far too reckless.
And yet it had been years since she'd been with any man. She'd preferred to be alone after Spike's death and subsequent resurrection. The Immortal had been a fantastic fling for a small amount of time, but nothing could take away the ache she always got when she saw someone she'd developed a liking to in an intense situation.
Bathing in the nude in a river at sunset qualified as such.
It just left so much more for the mind to be desired. And she felt desire flowing through her, ebbing her very being. She was being magnetically drawn towards the water and unless she ran away now, she would soon reach the point of no return and risk everything for her heart, the cold, callous remains of it.
She found her fingers toying with her tunic before she pulled her hand away, ashamed. Was she just some common woman seeing something she wanted but couldn't have, yet was willing to risk everything to get it?
No. She was stronger than that. She was a Slayer.
But she was also alone. And if she took this risk with her heart or her lust, whichever was controlling her movements, she wouldn't have to be alone anymore.
Had she not known him for over a year now? Had she not been there fighting beside him (or, in many cases, fighting in front of him because he wanted to watch rather than actually fight)? Had she actually just admitted to herself that she actually liked this Elf, despite the fact he had a huge superiority complex and could be quite brutally honest sometimes?
She didn't care anymore. Rules and morals be damned. She'd been trapped in this land long enough to understand the difference between right and wrong. And she also knew that wanting, taking and having were common words in the Slayer vocabulary, as Faith had just spent the past half-decade teaching her.
It was time to stop trusting her power and start listening to her heart again, no matter how many times it was broken. No matter how many times it had been played. It was time to realize that this wasn't her world anymore, and she had to take what she actually wanted instead of risking it all on the next best thing.
She stepped out from the bushes again to observe. The sky was turning a brilliant shade of scarlet and melon. She hid herself the best that she could, but she could figure that he knew she was there, watching him. Damn the Elves and their pride and arrogance, she thought bitterly.
And yet he didn't try to hide himself as he continued to splash around the water playfully. Buffy half-expected some other Elvish maiden to come to him, yet none did. As she watched him wade to the shore where his things were, she made her move. Bounding down the rocks and making absolutely no noise, she soon reached the spot where his clothing was kept and just before he could reach for it, she tugged it from his grasp.
He blinked up at her, water droplets falling from his face and glistening down his chest and his arms. Buffy felt her breath draw flat as she took a step out of his reach, trying in vain to force a smirk on her face. She had to keep it playful or it was going to kill her. "Missing something?" she asked quirkily.
"My tunic, for one," he said dryly, backing away in the water as it came up to his chest. "Or perhaps you wish to keep my things safe for me."
Buffy stared at the heap in her arms before eyeing the water. Turning back to him, he saw the challenge in her eyes.
"You would dare not," he said softly.
No, she wouldn't, she thought. She wasn't that cruel. He hadn't really done anything to her except force her to fight an enemy she knew nothing about alone. With a resigned sigh, she set the clothes aside. "I won't," she claimed. "But I'm going to make you come up here and get them."
"You would dare challenge me?" he asked, glaring at her.
Was he not astounding gorgeous when giving her that really horrifying look that was supposed to make her tremble? She trembled, all right, but in all of the wrong places.
She gave him a playful pout as she approached the water. "I just figured you could use some excitement in your life. Guard duty must be extraordinarily boring."
His gaze changed instantly from one of anger to one of enraptured delight. At last his Slayer was opening up to his ways, he thought, as he moved closer to her. "Perhaps," he said coolly. "You would best close yourself off against such thoughts."
Not a chance, she figured, watching as he came closer yet. Her eyes widened when she saw her own stooped body reflected in his cool blue gaze. "I don't think that's happening," she said, her voice dropping.
"Despite your reservations, I would not hasten to hurt you," he said, finally coming to a stop at the rock she was perched upon.
The fact that this nude Elf was so alarmingly close brought a sense of nothing to her brain. As long as she didn't think, she wouldn't have to feel.
It wasn't his plan. Bringing his rather astonishing arm strength down upon the rock, it pitched her head-first into the frigid water.
She gasped as she surfaced, turning with accusatory eyes to the Elf smirking in her direction. "You little…" she growled. Naked or not, no one would get away with that. Hell, not even Dawn could get away with something like that without a good and proper pummeling.
But she forgot to account for the fact that despite her anger, he was still naked. And now that she was well within his grasp, she started pounding her fists rather roughly against his shoulders. As he reached out to grab her, she darted away, the heavy material of her dress dragging her downwards. In order for it to be a remotely fair fight, she was going to have to strip.
Fat chance, she thought dryly. Her fingers, numb with cold, were fumbling with the ties in the front, and soon the heavier drape fell away, leaving nothing but a slip and the rest of her dignity.
"I believe this is what you asked for," he said calmly, enjoying the way she kept growling and making those hideous gestures with her hands. "After all, was it not you observing me?"
"I believe you started it, Pretty Boy," she snapped, lunging for him. With his own reflexes, he easily darted away, yet she turned, snarling to face him again. "Weren't you the one who started with the spying?"
How she figured it out, he wouldn't know.
"I could pick you up from a hundred yards away," she said, mocking his intelligence now. "It's not like you're that hard to figure out, madam Marchwarden."
This time, his attack was direct. As his arms went around her, she gasped. It wasn't from the mere fact that he had jumped first as it was the fact his body was pressed against hers. She slowly raised her stunned gaze to meet his inquisitive eyes.
"Don't you know…" she whispered. "This isn't exactly the kind of thing I—"
She was cut off as his lips found hers, his arms pulling her even tighter against him. After one blissful moment, she pushed him away, and his body moved rather gracefully through the water.
For a moment, they stared at one another. She didn't know what to think. Even in this cold water, his body had radiated heat, spreading warmth to her body and to her soul.
It took them only seconds before they were locked back in a tight embrace. His lips trailed a ring of fire down her bare neck and onto her shoulders. Her body clung to his, drawing the warmth only he could provide. Her hands down his muscular back and to his hips, holding him to her as they kissed.
The moon had just started to rise when Buffy sat up. She had been lying in the grass, wrapped in the remains of her Marchwarden's cloak. He was her… oh, no. What had she done? What had they done? It was still in her mind, the forceful pushing and rolling, the physical delight of it all. All that mattered was the fact his arms were around her and his eyes, for once, were on her as a woman, and not as a Slayer.
She rose and quickly found her own clothing, still rather wet. Dressing, she threw his cloak over his slumbering figure, still resting. She didn't know what to say. She really didn't know what to expect. What if it had all been but a dream?
Rivendell had never looked more welcome. The sooner she got back to this paradise, the sooner she could leave her guilt behind. Yet as she bathed in hot, foaming water, she felt her sobs starting to come up. For once, she had lost herself in a pure moment of happiness. It had beyond anything she was looking for in this world.
But she was here forever now. She had been asked by these Elves to stay. It couldn't hurt for her to actually fall in love with one, could it?
As she rinsed her hair, she choked out soapy water she'd accidentally taken in. Love? There was love now? It wasn't just the feeling of two bodies together in some rather interesting positions. No, it was beyond that now. She hadn't been looking for it. Had it just found her so suddenly?
Rising, she made her way to her guest room, thankfully restored after the twins' antics the week before. Lying on her bed, she stared out the window. She longed to know what the Elf was thinking, once again wishing she had the capacity to read minds, but for the moment was glad when sleep finally overtook her.
One week later, Galadriel approached the Slayer to inform her that they would be returning to Caras Galadhon. Buffy was happy to hear about this; she had been avoiding the Marchwarden and his two openly curious siblings for the past seven days, not an easy matter.
Galadriel hesitated for a moment before finally asking the Slayer whether or not she was truly happy.
Buffy couldn't answer her. Was she happy? Or was she just… existing in a place where she didn't know her place? She knew how to fight, but did she have to fight with the Elves?
Galadriel openly told her that it wasn't where a Slayer could be needed. There were distant wars happening, in the realm of Gondor to the south, and even the Shire could use protection. The Rangers could use another in their ranks and despite the fact Buffy was a woman, she was skilled in tracking and fighting and could be a useful asset to them.
Jumping at the chance to leave her heart behind, Buffy told Galadriel she could try it. The thought of leaving her heart behind didn't do enough justice. The Marchwarden came into the valley and found her sitting on the edge of a bridge, staring at the amazing flowering trees before her.
"I have heard you are leaving our ranks," he said in his usual calm tone.
"That's right," Buffy replied.
"Are you certain this is wise?" he asked her.
"I don't know," Buffy answered honestly. "I just go where I'm needed. And they happen to need me out there. It's not like I'll be gone forever."
"There is always the chance you would never come back," Haldir said, and for the first time, there was an echo of an accusing hint in his tone.
"Deal with it," she said coolly, hopping down from her comfortable spot. "I do. I deal with it all the time."
Before she could move past him, he took her arm. "Was this your method of 'dealing' when you came to me that night?"
"That was a mistake," she murmured, glancing up at him. "That should never have happened. I'm really sorry, but I don't know what I was thinking."
"Perhaps not with your mind, but with your heart," he said quietly, his cerulean eyes boring into hers. "Did you find what you were looking for?"
"I… I can't," Buffy said, attempting to pull away, but he'd trapped her between the bridge and himself, offering no escape. "I'm not going to do this again… I can't risk everything I am for just… you're going to live forever. I come with an expiration date that's pretty damn soon. I don't want to sound ungrateful, because you've been wonderful to me…"
He gently reached out and touched her face. She was taken aback by the humble feel of his skin against hers. He could be ever so gentle when the time called for it. "I do not wish for you to run," he said quietly. "But if this is how you are and how you remain, I am not one to judge."
"Don't," she said, pushing his hand away. "Don't patronize me, Haldir. What we have… what we had… it was but a dream."
He released her and allowed her to go then, staring after her before retreating to his own camp.
Buffy watched the party of Elves leave with a pensive air of sadness. For the past year and then some, Galadriel had taken her under her wing. She had nurtured the Slayer into a presentable young woman who could cope with the different races of beings in this world. She understood now.
And yet her heart was still cold.
On her first night away from her Elvish entourage, Buffy found herself welcoming the company of the young Arwen. She found Buffy sitting on one of the many fountains, staring morosely out into the distance.
"Your heart troubles you," Arwen said by way of greeting as she sat down next to the Slayer.
Buffy gave her a tired smile. "Something like that."
She didn't want to talk about her problems to a complete stranger, but Arwen seemed like she knew what Buffy was feeling. Before she could stop herself, she was talking about her mistakes, bitterly saying that she actually wanted something out of this Elf, yet she understood that she was far too afraid to take that risk. It was too much for her to take, knowing he would look so young and pretty until he died thousands of years in the future while Buffy would be forced to die a withered old woman a hell of a lot sooner than that.
"I'm just me, mortal Buffy," she said with a heavy sigh, finishing her story.
Arwen had been thoughtfully silent during the entire tale, not interrupting once. Now, she surveyed the younger woman and offered her own source of comfort. "You do not yet know the circumstances of your own arrival," she said quietly. "You may have many more years than you believe. You have no reason to fear my kind. We will not hurt you nor do we take risks without our own hearts in vain. Do not mistake your feelings, for I have seen them grow. You have known him for more than a year and yet your resistance to him has grown. You fear much, Dagnir. I fear you will lose what you have gained."
"It doesn't matter," Buffy said bitterly as she stood up. "They always leave in the end."
Arwen watched the young woman sweep away, feeling a slight bit of pity for her. And yet she had heard her father speak of a task this woman could do. Her own betrothed would be of great assistance, if only she could reach him in time.
Buffy spent the next few months enjoying the summertime in Imladris. Elrond had taken over where Galadriel had left off, watching as the young Slayer was trained in both weapons and in the art of acting like an Elf. She wasn't an Elf and despite her protests, Erestor seemed to enjoy tutoring her. She had a brilliant mind, even if she was resilient.
Three months soon passed since her bitter parting with the Marchwarden of Lórien. On the very day, a single man rode into the valley and approached the gates. He was young yet proud in stature and Buffy felt her breath catch as she felt his gaze meet hers.
This visitor was introduced to her as Strider. He was a Ranger from the north and was going to take her into his own custody for a few months or years, or however long she wanted.
It was a different life, she found out soon enough.
For one, they were often riding on horseback, which was rather unusual. Secondly, they didn't force her to fight for their own amusement. They fought by her side and she found herself actually enjoying that. Thirdly, they were all handsome and rather eligible young men, not Elves. And four, she wasn't going to let a single one of them break her heart.
Because, as much as she tried to deny it, her heart already belonged to someone else.
It wasn't like these men weren't trying to court her. They tried. Some actually had clever methods of wooing her. And yet she brushed them all aside, something Strider noticed and finally called her on one year after she'd first ridden out with him.
"We have a matter to discuss," he said one night, dropping down next to her blanket. She stared up at him, her long blonde hair falling past her shoulders as she worked to braid it carefully. Unfortunately, one fat braid did little for her appearances, yet it was the easiest to fight in. But her growing sense of nostalgia had caught up with her and she was braiding her hair recently in the same way Glorfindel had shown her.
"We do?" she asked curiously, setting her hands down. Strider took in the two narrow braids moving across the crown of her head before they were secured by a tiny silver pin in the back.
"We do," he confirmed, dropping down next to her. "Many of these men are eligible men, worthy of any woman's love, especially one of their own," he said, watching her face for a reaction. He didn't get what he was hoping for. Buffy had closed herself off often enough to prove she could be as cold and stoic as he could. "Yet when these men offer themselves in courtship, you deny them this privilege. Any man would be lucky enough to claim your heart, but there is only one reason to deny many claims to it."
She glanced down, realizing she was stabbing the ground repeatedly with her hunting knife. "Yeah," she said, chuckling hoarsely. "How about we not play the let's-talk-about-Buffy's-love-life game," she added darkly. "I've had about enough of heartbreak in my life to last me… one of those immortal lifetimes."
He realized her movements and reached out to steady her hand. "There is no need to fear your heart."
"Yes, there is," she said in a tiny voice, not trusting herself to look at him. "You have no idea what it's been like for me. I'm so young, yet in my world, my clock is running out. The only people I have ever loved left me so easily to pick up the pieces. I'm not going to risk that again. I don't have time in my life to worry about courting this and offering that. I'm happy as me… and for now…" Her own voice belied her strong words and she blinked as she looked away. "Can we just not talk about this?"
"Of course," he said, glancing down at her, compassion flashing in his gaze. "I, too, know the love of someone who may never return it."
She looked up slightly. And then she gave him a bittersweet smile. "I think he returned it," she said softly. "I just didn't want it."
"It may not yet be too late to correct this error, lady," he said softly.
"It doesn't matter anymore," Buffy said, lifting her knife and flinging it into the log before her. "It's not like I really exist here, is it?"
"You do exist," he said forcefully, grasping her shoulder. "You have been an essential part of my team and for this, we could not be more grateful!"
"Thanks," she said, giving him an abashed smile. "I think I'll stick to Slaying. I couldn't hold a relationship and my destiny in my world, and I don't think I could do it here in yours."
He rose and left, giving her respective privacy.
And yet, as she sat down, she couldn't help berating herself for being the liar she was.
The seasons continued to pass as their errands shifted, changing from north to south within weeks. As the years continued to pass, Buffy began to realize that she hadn't aged much at all. In fact, she looked the same as she had when she'd first arrived. It was a startling revelation and it was enough to send her into tears. For some odd reason, she had been given a rare gift of youth. She didn't feel thirty five, much less forty. As the fights continued, her heart continued to wane away, and yet as the offers still came, she delicately turned them down. She was claimed already. She had been claimed years ago.
And yet the irony that she hadn't aged caught up with her one winter morning in the high arches of the Misty Mountains. Glancing at her pale face in the small remainder of the hand mirror she had jumped into this world with, she stared at her face. It was unlined, and yet her eyes burned with a brightness she knew had been encountered from years of war and trials. She didn't understand her youth, but she intended to find out. She couldn't just let this sit, especially when her age meant much to her.
It was time to put her pride aside. She was going to have to return to her tree city and ask Galadriel about her agelessness.
After telling Strider what she wanted to do, he allowed her to go, feeling that as long as she did this, she may yet confront whatever fears were blocking her from happiness.
Buffy rode into Lórien on the first day of spring. She half expected the Marchwarden to approach her, but the ride was silent all the way through the edge of the forest. In fact, by the time she reached the guards, she noticed that they were unfamiliar. Had things changed this much in the years she'd spent away from Lothlórien? Things were unstable in this world, this she knew. She had fought battles, sometimes twice a day. There were days that she didn't sleep or rest because their mission was far more important than the thought of sleeping. It was a heartbreaking world, but it was one she was deeply entrenched in, by her will or not.
"Daro," said the figure, calling a halt whilst glancing at the single lady roaming through the trees looking as though she were on a deep-set mission. She was wearing her hair in a single braid, along with the chain-mail armor and a black cloak. Her belt contained her vast assortment of weapons, from her Elven-crafted sword, her gift from the sons of Elrond, and her Westernesse blade, a gift from the Rangers she had served for the past near-decade.
"Mae govannen," she said quietly, bowing her head in respect. Obviously these were guards she had never come across before, because she was well known through the guard she had served with. She had to be, considering she was a good head, sometimes two, shorter than the tall Elves.
They exchanged a glance over the brows of their bows, but she seemed unconcerned that she was facing eight guards, all of them willing to kill her should the order be given. In fact, she looked almost interested in the fact that since she'd been around, the bows had undergone an upgrade.
"Man le?" one of them asked, staring down at her.
But she'd put up with enough of the arrogant Elf-isms to know that the best she could do was ignore him. "I'm Buffy," she said, staring him down in the same cool manner. Realizing they probably didn't understand her language, she forced her mind to reverberate the long hours of Elvish learning Elrond had put her through. "Buffy i eneth nín."
They seemed to understand that as they exchanged another look. Feeling even more impatient, she pushed forward. They didn't back down their defenses.
"Mas thelich baded?" the head guard asked, asking where she was intending to go.
"Caras Galadhon," she replied. "I have old business with Galadriel there." Seeing their arrogant yet blank eyes, she cursed under her breath. "Hanioch nin?" she asked impatiently, wondering if they understood her or not.
Apparently not, because the head guard gave the slightest shake of his head. This was next to impossible. She rarely used the tongue she'd spoken quite fluently in Imladris, but being forced to regurgitate a language dead to her for a decade was torture. Using her last ditch effort, she put her hands on her hips and said, in a slow voice. "Galadriel…" Mimicking walking with two fingers, she pointed to the woods behind them. "Must speak with her." She mimicked projecting her voice, which oddly enough looked as though she were really trying to regurgitate. They were looking slightly less suspicious now, and two guards even held down their bows. "It is important. I don't have much time." Here she pointed up at the sky, and gestured towards the sun. "Please… err… I know this word!" Her frustration was mounting to the point where she was actually tempted to take them all on. Finally, she held up her hands and lifted sad, beleaguered eyes to the guards.
"Estelio nin," she finally said. It was all she could think of to say… trust me.
The lead guard dropped his bow arm and regarded her calmly for a moment before issuing the order for the others to do the same. "Tolo," he said, and she followed.
He led her to the tree city, and she gazed at her first home warmly. The sights and scents were returning to her now, bringing with them lasting memories. She was quite relieved to be back here, and that was the honest truth. She was quite uncomfortable with the nomadic lifestyle and since she'd been here longer than ten years now, the better part of her wanted one home. Was it too much to ask?
She smiled when she saw the figures approaching her. They were familiar to her, with their own dark hair and their stormy-sea colored eyes full of nonchalance.
At least they could speak English.
"Where are you going?" one of them asked her.
"I need to see Galadriel," Buffy said.
"Allow her passage," the second said, stepping aside. Buffy took the stairs alone, finally coming to a rest where the Lady dwelled. When she turned, there was no surprise in her eyes. In fact, it looked as though she'd been expecting the one person who'd been gone for nearly a decade.
"Mae govannen," she said softly, stepping forward. "Why have you come, Dagnir?"
"I haven't aged a day since I got here," Buffy said, plowing right into her story. "Would you care to explain? I know you know what's going on, and I'm not buying the whole 'this place is an eternal fountain of youth'."
Galadriel didn't answer right away. She walked over and took Buffy's hands, holding them in her own. "You carry with you a precious gift," she said, at last withdrawing her own touch. "The life of the Eldar is strong within you."
The only thing Buffy could think of was Star Wars and the force. So, she had the force, whatever it was? If so, how did she come to get it?
"What?" was all she could say.
Galadriel regarded her for a moment. "When you came before us, I noticed that you had a bonding to this Earth."
Willow's phrase from well over twenty years ago came back to her: I took you out of this Earth, and now the Earth wants you back.
It was the only reasonable explanation.
"What does this mean though?" she asked impatiently. "What sort of bonding do I have to the Earth? What is this Eldar?"
"Your bond with the Earth has given you a mighty gift," Galadriel replied in her soft, calm tone. "The Eldar is the name a Vala gave us for all of my kind, all of Elf-kind."
"Oh," Buffy said, thinking about this for just one moment, before her brain clicked and realization hit her like a semi-truck. "You mean I'm… becoming one of you?"
"Nay," Galadriel said, quietly examining the young woman before her. "But this does offer the gift of a longer life, although by now you must have noticed that your age means little here. Your strength surpasses even the brightest and boldest of my kind. I have heard many tales and see much in my time." A sad smile came to her face as she met the soft jade eyes of the woman before her. "This is what you sought, is it not?"
"I don't know," Buffy said, feeling angry now. She had finally gotten the long life she had asked for. But the prospect of spending potentially hundreds of years fighting wars and battles seemed… empty. "I guess I already knew what was coming. Something happened to me. Something I can't explain."
"You will know soon," Galadriel assured her. "Tolo, mado go nin," she said, inviting Buffy to dine with her.
The food, as always, was fantastic. She enjoyed the company as much, especially when Celeborn entered. He, too, seemed unsurprised to find the Slayer in their city, and welcomed her as warmly as he had the first time he'd met her.
Her heart felt considerably lighter as she returned to her own talan, given to her when she'd first arrived. It had been empty for years, yet she smiled at the memory of her storming about, throwing things and breaking whatever was in sight after a particularly brutal day. Sighing wistfully, she dropped onto her bed, her gaze falling to her trunk.
She was still wearing the clothes that qualified her for G.I. Jane. What she wanted now was something much more feminine, and she knew she had these things. She changed into her long pale green sheath and admired herself from every angle she could see. The dress really did fit her well, and they exposed her bare, toned arms, despite the lack of any color on them anymore. The gown made her feel pretty and after getting the brush-off from the one Elf she actually wanted to see, she was willing to go the distance to make herself feel lovely again.
After a full night's rest, she awoke to a sung conversation from below. She sighed contentedly as she listened. She didn't understand the words or the lyrics, but they were enchanting nevertheless. It was so much more peaceful than Strider's constant, "Get up! We must move, lady! Move!"
Now that she was awake, however, she had a mission to fulfill and an Elf to throttle. She returned to where the guards gathered, yet found none she knew. And then she found out why.
There was yet another war occurring, one she didn't know about. Alarmed at the thought he had gone off with the rest of the guards to protect Lórien, she made to go, not really caring how reckless this decision was. She no longer cared about anything except finding her brethren and making certain they returned to the tree city alive. No wonder the guards didn't know her; they were newbies.
And yet her job was never easy. In a world that had been without a vampire Slayer, they certainly seemed to need one nowadays just to get people out of trouble. Grumbling, she fought her way back to her talan and was soon dressed in her full Ranger armor. Pulling on her belt, she armed herself, taking particular care of each individual weapon. They were, after all, her most prized possessions of the world.
Buffy sighed as she glanced down at herself. Just moments before, she had actually felt like a woman. Now she felt like a Ranger, or a Ranger-ette as she had gotten to calling herself for these past few years. Smoothing down her armored cape, she decided she was ready to do what it took. After all, these Elves had created the person she was. Sort of. They had helped train her in the ways of this world to be more exact. If they were fighting distant battles, it would make sense for her to go to them. They had earned her allegiance a long time ago.
Pulling herself together, she marched right out of the tree city that evening and, listening to the scouting reports, found her way southeast towards the Anduin. The Elves that knew her name respected her enough to leave her be. She was on a mission and would kick any Elvish ass into submission if they dared mess with her now.
It didn't take her long to figure out that this forest had changed since she'd left it behind. Gone were the sounds of laughter and the songs she'd heard traveling throughout the entire wood. In its place was silence, only broken by the wind circling through the treetops. It was an eerie sound, one Buffy wasn't used to. One thing about traveling with Rangers – they made silence impossible. Men were notoriously loud while the Elves had commanding respect of their silence.
Once she'd reached the tongue, the pointing tip of land that separated the two rivers of the southeastern corner of Lórien, Buffy found the waters abandoned, but saw recent signs of ships moving to the west.
The Elves had left their domain.
"Isn't this just great?" she muttered angrily, storming around the land looking for any sign that her people were still there.
Her people… wasn't that a strange way to put it? The Elves were immortal beings and Buffy was just one who happened to be given the same grace as immortal beings. Ironic, in a weird sort of twist.
She had no choice but to return to the tree city and await word there. It was either that or return to Strider in the mountains.
Or, she could use one of these crafty boats and push herself on the Celebrant and head westward. If all else came to fail, she could spend yet another week traveling through the woods she'd come to know and admire.
Right, like Buffy the vampire Slayer had any clue on how to pilot and steer a boat.
It couldn't be that hard to figure out, she thought to herself. She easily lifted one of the small canoes and set it on the edge of the water. Lifting up an oar, she boarded the boat and pushed off.
As she rowed into the night, she found herself seeing the forest as she never had before. It looked both black and mysterious as darkness overtook her. It was then she started to realize that either she was glowing or the boat she was rowing was alight. She continued into the night and only stopped once she reached the edge of the forest. She had no ambition to go into the mountains, considering the fact she was rowing against the current.
She built herself a small fire on the bank and stared at her single bag morosely. She was no closer to finding her guard than she was to attacking a dark stronghold, and she'd done that twice.
She fell asleep near daybreak and stayed asleep until the ravens came from the north and started pecking at her and the burnt logs she'd been using. Opening one eye, she shooed them away before rising warily and rearming herself, feeling tired and grumpy. She really only had one choice now and that was to head back into the forest, unless…
Moving closer to the rocks on the edge of the jagged shoreline, she saw footprints. They were certainly not the heavy footprints an Orc or a man might make. They were lighter and more well-paced like those of an Elf. Feeling as though she'd finally accomplished something, she grabbed her pack and turned to head back to her boat, only to discover it was missing.
Dropping her sack angrily on the ground and kicking it aside, she grumbled, "Well isn't this just perfect?"
She could always swim back, she thought darkly as she prepared to travel back into the forest. Taking out the sword, she trudged northeast.
The next few weeks were spent in very tense silence. Buffy was about to give her old guard up for dead and return to see Strider when the Elvish song changed one morning. Turning over in her bed, she heard the sound of celebration below, sung in the faintest of voices.
Rising, she rushed down to where the others had gathered in a neat row, singing whilst holding ornaments. She paused on the staircase, her eyes spying Orophin and Rúmil. With a small cry of relief, she ran towards them, forgetting for the moment they didn't speak Westron. She was far too relieved to see the members of her former guard, and when they saw her, they knew her.
It was then the Marchwarden, hidden in the shadows of pure blue light, saw her, running towards his kin. He saw the look of absolute delight on her face and took in her features. She appeared to be even lovelier than she had been years ago when he'd first met and trained the younger woman.
She was also dressed in the garments of his people, something he had never expected to see. The pale green did nothing but pale her complexion, yet she appeared to be a shorter version of them. Her smile and her eyes, which had changed from a soft brownish-gold to a deep jade-green, were bright and shining. She still led with her heart, and it was one of the things that had endeared him towards his Slayer in the first place.
It had been years since he'd thought about their one perfect moment together. Since they parted over nine years before, he had missed her. She had brought a different aspect to his life he never saw coming, and that was the ability to act like a complete "smart ass", in her words.
As he pondered the reasons behind her reappearance, she turned and spotted him. He didn't see the way her eyes widened, as though she were coming face-to-face with someone forgotten a long time before. He only met her eyes when he saw the tears behind them. Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears as she stared at him. He took in her appearance and felt himself dying to throw out an irritating quip about her finally accepting Elvish culture. But before he could even open his mouth, the look on her face hardened as she stormed to where he was standing.
"Why did you do that?" she demanded, jabbing him in the chest with her index finger. "Why in the hell did you scare me like that? I spent over a week out there searching for you, and you sent no word or anything! How could you do that to me? Don't you know how much I—"
Her words were cut off as his immortal hand came up and clamped itself over her mouth. Fixing her sternest gaze on him, she forcefully removed his hand. "You need not concern yourself with the dealings of my kind," he said calmly as she continued to open and close her mouth like a puckered fish.
"Yeah, well, right now, I'm glad I'm not concerned," she snapped before she walked off in her usual huff.
Such was their reunion. After nearly ten years of separation, they had managed to anger one another within seconds of coming face-to-face. It didn't last very long, considering she had gone through a major change of heart in the past few years. And after being parted from the only person who could inspire such reckless and impulsive actions from her, Buffy wasn't willing to let it get away.
She found him alone at one of the quiet ponds hours later. He glanced back to see her standing there, in a long white cloak, covering a gown the color of a soft winter's snow. She had obviously made an effort to apologize, and he suddenly found he didn't need one.
"Have a good war?" she asked blithely as she joined him.
"There have been a great many others," he replied, glancing at her inquisitively.
"Look," she said, glancing down as she folded her arms over her wrap, "I know I have no right to even be here… considering I just gave it up a long time ago, but still..."
"Must you always use many words?" he asked passively, glancing down into her green eyes. She smiled slightly up at him.
"I'm trying to apologize for being such a bitch," she said quietly. "The least you could do is let me do that."
"I have no need for your apologies," he said, moving away from her.
She closed her eyes, feeling the swift pain of rejection settling in. "Wait," she said, and he paused, turning to look at her. "I messed things up so badly back then and I knew that if I had another chance, I would things right. I've been royally screwed in the whole love thing and yet maybe I found what I wasn't looking for."
The look on his face changed as he regarded her in a new light. She had definitely changed in the past few years. In fact, her face hadn't changed at all, except for her eyes. "You have not aged a day," he said, cutting through her persistent rambling as he stole forward to touch her face and tip it to his. He gazed intently at the youth in the same face he had come to admire a decade before.
"I apparently have the life of the Eldar," she said, her voice slightly biting. She didn't move away from him. She didn't want to, not anymore. Her hand reached up to cover his. "Don't go."
"You were the one who walked away," he said, his humbling tone befuddling her yet again.
"I was scared," she said, glancing down, his hand finally falling from her cheek. "You don't know how many times a Slayer can get hurt by someone she loves."
He was still giving her that intent smile. "What say you?" Haldir asked gently.
"Gerich veleth nín," she said softly, not wanting to look at him. "Annan io."
"Is it what you seek?" he asked, approaching her again, this time from behind.
"I've been in war. I've seen peace. I've watched men live and die. I just found out I'm going to live a really long life, and I don't want to do it alone." She turned back to face him, glancing up into his piercing blue gaze. "No matter how many ask me for courtship, I gave my heart away a long time ago."
"Even now?" he asked, raising one curious eyebrow.
"Don't be such an arrogant bit," she said, smiling as the tears came back to her eyes. "I'm trying to say something here."
"There is no need," he said, reaching out and pulling her into a long, warm embrace. She sighed as she rested her face against his chest, breathing in his scent and feeling as though this was the reason she had been given this second chance. He wasn't dead and she was sure that with her own long life, they would have endless years ahead.
"I think that's the difference between men and Elves," she said teasingly, pulling out of his embrace as his strong hands cupped her face delicately. "They can go and mate whenever they like… but for you Elves, there's lots of respect. I get that now."
He rested his head atop hers. "Will you go again?"
"No," she said, shaking her head. "I don't want to go. I've had this need for a home for a long time now, and even though I can sense there's something big coming, something huge… I'm meant to be where I want. This world has no need for a Slayer that can't hunt vampires that don't exist. But there's always a spot on an Elvish guard for a crazy little woman who likes the pointy things."
"For that," he said, pushing a lock of her soft hair away from her face, "there is always room."
Her smile warmed her own heart as he bent down to capture her lips in a fiery kiss that left her breathless. As she pulled back, taking in a lungful of oxygen, she felt as though she had finally completed her task.
Years later, under the guise of a guard, she would come across Strider again, this time learning that he was the heir to the lost throne of Gondor. She was going to stand beside her beloved, an Elf with a chip on his shoulder the size of Siberia. She was going to share in his distrust of Dwarves.
There had been a time in the distant past when she would have considered this world nothing but a dream. Now she saw it as a revelation, a reward for her fifteen years of service on two Hellmouths. She had been granted this opportunity, and these things rarely came about in any lifetime. Knowing what she had gained, she could now say that she had found all of her hopes in this future, despite her misgivings that in the beginning, it had only been a dream.
She had the rest of her long life to look forward to. And she was going to live it for her.
- - - -
the end