Great Expectations
Title: Great Expectations
Rating: PG-13 (once again, for the violence)
Genre: If you do not know this by now, you deserve to be shot.
Teaser: After being recruited by Elladan and Elrohir, Buffy finds herself back in the arms of her Ranger guards going to save their old leader. Part three of the series.
Summary: This story continues along the path of the first two. Buffy has been in Middle-earth for twenty years now, and during this time has fought in many battles, but has never gone to war. After being recruited by Elladan and Elrohir, Buffy accompanies them and the Rangers to find Aragorn, after a victory at Helm's Deep in Rohan. But with this new journey comes great perils, as Buffy discovers something equally disturbing about herself, something she never would have before thought possible… will it bring her back to the arms of the one she loves? Or will it drive her into the darkness, forever?
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, despite my wishes. I do, however, own the plotline from both "But A Dream" and "Lessons Better Learned", so spoilers abound.
Spoilers: This new series, a sequel of sorts to "But A Dream", follows the books (and, in part, the films) rather closely. You are forewarned.
Dedications: I wish I could have words for those of you who read and reviewed this "series". Thank goodness for each and every one of you! As I prepare to journey to extreme rural MN, I decided to add these next two parts. For those of you who wish to know how long this series is, well... Jesse is finally happy with the length of this fiction, and to say it is short is an understatement.
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Great Expectations
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Things would have been hilarious had their situation not been so dire.
Buffy was cursing the day Eru ever created such foul creatures as, for the fourth night running, they fought off the advances of what Halbarad had called a Uruk-hai. Halbarad was one of the northern Rangers she had spent ten years around. He was tall, stoic and wore a very stern face that, despite her cracking jokes and wry sense of humor, refused to lift.
After the small hunting party had fallen, Buffy wiped the dark blood from her sword and sheathed it, her face as impassive as the two tall Elves she accompanied. Or, as they would rather have it, as they accompanied her. In their week-long journey thus far, they had crossed into the plains of the Anduin, the great forests of Fangorn to their right and had driven into the northern parts of Rohan.
"We must press on," Halbarad said that night, the leader of a small group of Rangers. There were thirty in their company and Buffy was fortunate enough to be counted among their numbers. Having spent ten years in their services, it felt good to be with familiar humans and with the presence of the twin sons, she felt at least some of the comforts of home with her. For one, things were never dull with the two pranksters of Middle-earth present with the one they claimed their master. It was difficult to see the lightheartedness of the trio, but for the Rangers own sake, they could risk an indulgent smile for their own sanity.
They had no problems reminding her of the simple prank played nearly eighteen years before, one that involved a feast of sorts in the guest room of the young Slayer and then many small animals, including ravens that remained for days after she'd parted (and begged to stay with Glorfindel, since he was far enough away from Erestor's wrath for the young woman) and the sheep that had gnawed on her honey-soaked arm.
That would have been funny had they not been ambushed at that very moment by the Uruk-hai.
After yet another hour-long fight, the rest of the Orc disappeared into the gloom and Buffy found herself in the dark, staring at the slight glow she was generating, but recognizing the same faded glow from both Elladan and Elrohir, descendants of great lines of Noldorin and Sindarin. Smoothing her long midnight cloak, she retreated back to her own thoughts, which brought her home. Not to the home she'd come to know and love these twenty years, but of her family left behind in Cleveland, at the Hellmouth she had shared with many younger Slayers, Faith and her friends.
She missed them sometimes, and it was seen in her face, which she worked hard to keep as impassive as her people's. She wondered now what had become of them, for many years had passed there as well. Twenty years now had she been among the Elves, humans and Dwarves of this age. It had been twenty years since she had last killed a vampire. On the other hand, Sunnydale didn't have Orcs or other foul demons she constantly was fighting off. They didn't have wargs either, which she was unfortunate to come across their second night in the wilderness.
She hadn't had an entire group of men and two Elves watching her back, either. One of the benefits of living in Middle-earth was the abundance of powerful figures just rushing to the call of another.
As was their task now. Their errand was to get to Aragorn immediately, since his need was the direst.
Buffy rose to her feet after Halbarad's calling and stretched, yawning. She would give anything to curl up and sleep the next few hours, but sleep would have to wait. She pulled on her armor, left alone for the most part by these men, and finally retreated to her own steel-grey mare and mounted her.
They continued their hard ride into the night, casting towards the southwest. They had great need, and since the time they had left Lórien, Buffy had learned that a great battle had been fought two days before in which the evil from Isengard had been defeated.
"That's always good," Buffy muttered, closing her eyes against the brilliant sunrise ahead of them.
Onwards they pressed, going far into the south of Rohan, where the mountains once again approached.
"These are the Ered Nimrais," Elrohir said to her as they continued parallel to these hills for awhile.
"The White Mountains," she muttered, translating under her breath as she glanced at the great peaks above her, adorned, she spied, with towers. "What are those?"
"Those are the beacons of Gondor," Elrohir explained. "During the days of old, they were lit for all to come to the aid of Gondor. To our south lies great history and with this history lies much pain and toil, for many lived once in this southern Kingdom."
She was so close to Gondor, a place that Boromir had spoken of so beautifully. She was finally going to see it, or be close enough to overstep the border. She assumed the border was these mountains, since that was where the beacons were standing, silent against the great winds on the highest peaks.
A sudden, great cry rang above their heads and, face full of irritation, Buffy glanced up to see a winged creature seating a Ringwraith pass overhead and disappear to the west.
"We must hurry," Elladan counseled them, and they quickly made ready to move.
Pushing herself along, they rode into the night. But, this night, she spied movement heading to the east, far across the valley. She rode up to Halbarad and spoke quickly, and he gave the orders to double back. They had only been riding for a few hours when those with the far-seeing sight realized that the party they'd been riding behind had stopped.
Halbarad dismounted and moved forward as the figure called out, "Halt! Who rides in Rohan?"
Buffy waited with the others, her hands nervously playing with the hem of her midnight-blue traveling cloak. At last, he returned and with him was Aragorn. Buffy found herself beaming at her old mentor as he came, looking surprised to see her with the twin sons of Elrond.
They continued now at a slower pace into the night. Buffy pulled up beside Aragorn to hear his tale on the end of the Fellowship.
She heard the tale of Boromir's death, and it brought him no surprise to see that she knew it had been coming. "He was so filled with torment when I was around him," she explained as they rode into the night. "I knew I couldn't save him, but to hear of his death… wow. I bet there are some really happy people in Gondor, and Denethor must be thrilled."
"He has yet to learn of Boromir's death," Aragorn told her. "There may yet come a day when you pass through the city."
The thought of going to Minas Tirith, the white city as Boromir had told her, was beyond exciting. It was one of those good things she'd been dreaming of since she started this whole godforsaken mission.
As they rode on, the twin sons rode up around them, casting a suspicious look at her. "You have been conversing with our foster brother far too long, Dagnir," Elladan said, in a voice of mock-seriousness.
"Maybe I'll give him to you for awhile," Buffy smirked.
"A chance that favors your bold and rash conscience," Elrohir added, his sea-grey eyes as innocent as ever.
"Or so you say," Buffy shot back, feeling distinctly more grumpy now. She rode ahead towards the breaking of the sunrise as Elrohir turned back to Aragorn. "I bring word to you from my father," he said urgently. "The days are short. If thou art in haste, remember the Paths of the Dead…"
They reached Helm's Deep at sunrise. Buffy was so exhausted she could barely urge her tired mare to climb the causeway and pass through the remains of the gate. The scars of a previous battle marred what had once been a beautiful fortress. She had ridden alone for much of the night, a faint glow on a great, broad horizon. It was then that Buffy met the great king of Rohan, one that Aragorn had spoken of years before. She bowed before him and called herself "Buffy Dagnir" in his presence, cleverly using her title as her surname. It made more sense this way.
It was to his great surprise that the twin sons of Elrond came to her and stood about her, as though shielding her from the growing influence in the world of men they were now in. They in turn found her a cot on which to rest and guarded the door, stone-faced and stern. Aragorn wanted her to come with him, as she was one of his older friends, but chose not to go against the wishes of these Elves. They were likely under orders from Galadriel, Celeborn and their Marchwarden to watch over her. She was over fifty years of age now, yet she still looked as though she were thirty or younger.
Buffy awoke a few hours later to the sound of pounding on the door. Before she could even muster her voice to answer the call, the door burst open and a stream of figures came in. She gasped at the outrage of it all as she leapt to her feet. "What are you doing?" she gasped.
"They have asked us to send word that you should come," one of the men said, bowing his head courteously.
It was a little late for that, she decided as she gazed at the armor she had placed over a chair. She wore nothing now but her basic Elvish essentials, a tunic-top and a pair of lightweight trousers. She felt violently exposed and that was usually under penalty of death, but she must've felt rather chivalrous that day as she crossed her arms to hide her rather harsh behavior. "Who?" she asked.
"Aragorn has summoned you," the other guard replied. "He says that he must speak with you now before the others depart."
"I think I missed something," Buffy said, feeling confused. As she followed them out, wearing nothing but her simple clothing and feeling rather inadequate next to their Rohirric armor, they filled her in with the details. The King was pulling all of his guards to their mighty armory of Dunharrow and from there they would march to Gondor and the greatest battle of their time. Aragorn had disappeared for hours with Halbarad, both men she knew rather well, and returned only to summon the woman in their party. When she arrived at the small room, she was unsurprised to see Elladan and Elrohir standing just inside the door, waiting for her to pass. The two Rohirrim did not.
They led her into the room before closing the doors behind her. She glanced up at Aragorn, sitting on a bench. A bundle lay wrapped at their feet as Halbarad paced the tiny room.
"You could've done better than that," she said dryly. "Your execution for giving me a heart attack was so far off… that is, if Elves get heart attacks."
"This is what you are not," Aragorn said quietly, still staring at the dark lump on the ground.
She drew her attention to it, feeling a soft buzz in her mind. Whatever it was, it had once been an evil tool. "So, that yours? It's… lumpy."
"It is one of the Palantíri, one of the great seeing-stones from the past," he replied, bending down and lifting it into his grasp before offering it to her. "Take it. It is quite light, now that I have mastered it from the darkness."
Something from her history lessons clicked in her mind as she took it and unwrapped it, the black cloth falling to the ground as she held the large seeing stone in her hands. "It's got a lot of power," she said softly.
"It needed to be mastered," Halbarad said quietly. "Aragorn needed to know the strength of Sauron to plot our next course of action."
"Which is what?" she asked, turning to face Aragorn again, handing him back the seeing stone. "What are you going to do now?"
"Of this I am not yet certain," Aragorn replied, lifting his exhausted face to peer at hers. "I do know that time is working against us."
She walked over and sat down next to him and laid her hand on his arm. "Elrond wouldn't send his sons if he didn't know they could help," she said, choosing her words carefully. "Why they summoned me, I don't know. I may never know. The end of the world is coming, Aragorn. I want to be there at the end. And I know, as one of the many champions of this great world, you're going to be there with me. If the Paths of the Dead can serve any purpose, it would serve it best now."
Halbarad was giving her the strangest look. "Since when have you become so wise?" he asked, looking stunned at her thoughtful speech.
"I've spent too many years with the wisest," Buffy said, leaning back against the wall. "I think that bit came from Elrond himself. The man's got a superiority complex and a chip in his shoulder but when it comes down to the end of all things, he's the kind of guy you'd follow. Sort of like you." She turned her eyes to Aragorn. "Your country needs you. It already lost one brother. It can't stand to lose the other."
"I must go to the aid of my people," Aragorn said stubbornly. "This much I know."
"Then, let's go already!" Buffy said, leaping to her feet with such energy that Halbarad took a deliberate step away from her. "Light the beacons, sound the charge, blow the horn, ready the arrows! Do whatever you men do best, and I'll do what I do best."
"What may that be, Dagnir?" Halbarad asked her, as though afraid he didn't want to know the truth.
"I'm going to fight and I'm going to look pretty doing it," she said proudly.
"It is rather nice to know you have not lost your human sense of humor," Aragorn said, rising up behind her.
"You can't take the life out of this girl," Buffy said, a fond smile growing on her face. "Well, they tried… but… if at first you don't succeed, you turn the girl Immortal, you give her a nice, shiny Galadhrim bow, and you set her loose on a bunch of Orcs."
"She has been trained well," Halbarad said, smirking slightly. This woman's energy was starting to become contagious.
"Of course I'm trained well," Buffy snapped in mock-indignation, folding her arms. "It's my destiny. It's going to be both of your necks if you just stand there looking at me as though I've grown an extra head, too. So, snap to it."
Turning, she walked and burst out of the room, the doors swinging shut behind her.
"I think I liked her better before she returned to Lórien," Halbarad said with a sigh.
"She was quite that way before, or have you forgotten?" Aragorn replied, clasping the shoulder of his kinsman before following the path the woman had just taken.
"If she had not fallen away with plans of madness, you mean," Halbarad grumbled, remembering the many times that Buffy had come up with plans to get them out of substantially grim situations and that most of them had involved using Halbarad, easily the grumpiest of the group, as the pawn.
The three, accompanied by the so-called Marshal of these Rohan, the twin sons of Elrond, and the last two members of the Fellowship, Legolas and Gimli, ascended down the causeway and it was then that Buffy saw an enormous group of men and horses waiting below.
She was more aware now than ever that she was the only female in a group of many males. There were only three Elves, and two of them were smirking at her obvious discomfort. She decided to do what Haldir would have done in this situation. Well, what he would have done had he not whipped out his bow and knocked them all over. Instead, she forced her face into an impassive, arrogant, cold mask that matched that of Legolas as she walked up beside him. He gave her a look that she didn't return. Her eyes were on Aragorn as he stepped forward to speak with the King.
She was attracting a lot of attention, the others realized. In the distance, twenty six horses rode forward, bearing the rest of the Rangers. Buffy knew many of them, yet instead of smiling and waving in greeting, she kept her cold, stoic face on as Aragorn finally made up his mind.
"I must take the road of the Dimholt, and travel the Paths of the Dead."
Well, if looks had been more terrified, she thought to herself, feeling her façade slip away. Halbarad had already signed onto this journey, securing the other twenty six Rangers. She knew Elladan and Elrohir weren't going anywhere until they'd been given their chance to shoot someone. And Buffy knew that if they didn't go, she wasn't going anywhere.
The King bade them farewell and Buffy watched as the grand party trotted off across the valley. She was the last to retreat back to the Keep and she proceeded immediately to her room to dress. She felt better knowing that they had such strong allies in this war. What made her feel slightly put-off was the fact she'd known almost nothing of this war. Such was the way the Elves worked, she decided sadly as she pulled on her armor.
The ride to Dunharrow was swift. Once they arrived, they were greeted by the King's niece, who appeared to be a soldier, too, since she wore a chain-mail dress to the knees. The Rohirrim stood back as Aragorn entered and with him were his fellow Rangers, three Elves, a Dwarf and a woman. She dismounted with Elvish grace, and moved rather fluidly. The twin sons of Elrond worked to keep her out of sight of any who would supplant her and took her almost immediately to a tent, away from prying eyes and whispered conversations.
Aragorn knew she was going to give them hell for it, too.
Sure enough, as the others were settling down for dinner, they could hear her voice echoing as the wind swept up.
"It is quite the change to hear her shouting at another," Halbarad said, a look of fierce satisfaction in his eyes as he ate his stew.
"It has been nearly twenty years," Aragorn said, a smile playing around his lips. Éowyn glanced at them curiously, but before she could ask of whom they were speaking, the flap of the tent opened and a red-faced woman walked in.
The dynamic within the tent changed almost instantly as she turned infuriated green eyes on Aragorn. "Did you tell them to baby me?" she accused, her voice low. "See, if you don't start talking, you're never going to put that pretty white crown on your head."
The others stared at her in disbelief as she pulled out her sword, a gift from the two Elves she had just finished berating and, quite possibly, had beaten to death. The glow around her was brightest when she was angry, and to say she was angry was a mere understatement.
It was a very gentle voice, deep within her mind, that seemed to calm her infuriated nerves. Put down the weapon.
No, she protested angrily. He tries to make a mockery of me, and I will not have it.
You will, came the insistent voice. You have come along to aid, not to torture those in whose aid your skills are most needed.
Reluctantly, Buffy pulled the sword away from his neck, the anger in her eyes subsiding. Éowyn just stared at this woman in disbelief before the tent opened and two Elves came in, both smiling apologetically at the young woman along the wall, her sword held down at her side, all fire gone in her movements.
Now I'm just a little weak in their eyes, her mind thought accusingly. Why did you make me do that for?
I had no such role in that, the bemused voice replied. I do wish for you to return alive and unspoiled, and attacking the would-be King of man would seem a lousy way to begin such a journey.
As always, you're right.
I may be right, but you still have more strength, the voice admitted grudgingly. If that will bring you hope.
It always brings me hope.
I shall see you soon.
Oh, yes, she thought, smirking provocatively as the others continued to stare at the woman gazing at the ceiling, looking rather thoughtful. I am thinking of the exact place where I would want—
You have no room for these thoughts now. You must fight now to regain your honor and at least scrap your dignity.
Spoil-sport.
The voice chuckled softly once and then the bond was broken. Her eyes cleared as she returned to the present. Glancing at all of the curious faces, she saw Aragorn's and gave him a quick, apologetic smile and a pat on the shoulder. "I'm sorry," she said quickly. "Excuse me."
She rushed from the tent quickly.
By morning, she rose, feeling restless. It had been nearly a week and a half now without her lover beside her. She missed him far too much and despite the fact that his voice in her head kept a terrible situation from turning so much worse, she wished she could hear it in person.
Well, she was just a foolish little Slayer, half-Eldar-wannabe in love.
No one said it was easy.
She left her tent, wearing her long Elven cloak bound with a brooch of a star at her throat. She was going to watch the sunrise for the last time before even considering going to war. She folded her arms and stared at the pale colors on the horizon.
Hearing a sound next to her, she spotted Éowyn, looking almost terrified of the figure at the edge of the cliff, staring out over the beautiful horizon that lay hundreds of miles beyond.
"It's so pretty," Buffy said, before the other woman could dash away. "I can see why someone would want to stay up here."
Éowyn hesitated, and Buffy smirked her usual Elvish smirk. "You don't have any reason to fear me," she said softly. "I'm just a girl who knows how to use a sword."
"As am I," Éowyn replied, finally stepping up next to the shorter woman. "My people have learned to use swords, and women know they can still die if they do not defend themselves."
"Those are my kind of women," Buffy said, beaming at the taller woman, who looked startled. "Okay, how about we start this the right way. I'm Buffy."
"My name is Éowyn," the other woman replied. "I have not known Aragorn for long, but of you he did not speak."
"He wouldn't have, would he?" Buffy asked, smiling. "I was once in his Ranger corps. Yep, a girl like me fighting with a bunch of guys like them. It made for an interesting ten years of my life."
"Are you one gifted with the unnatural long life?" Éowyn asked, wondering how this woman could have served ten years with Aragorn when ten years ago this woman would have been but a child.
"Yes," Buffy replied, nodding. "I'm not one of the Dúnedain, though. I'm not like him."
"Yet you carry a longer life," Éowyn pressed.
"Yeah," Buffy shrugged. "My life has been one big gift from the Elves."
"You act as no woman of this land would," Éowyn said, her voice getting harder.
"That's because half of the time was spent with the Silvans. The other half was spent with old blood-and-guts back there," Buffy said, tilting her head towards the tent where Aragorn and the rest of the Rangers were resting. "I haven't spent much time around regular Joes. I never really had much need to."
"Your presence is envied," Éowyn said softly as Buffy turned to head away again. The other woman stopped and turned back, looking warily at the younger woman. "You have fought in wars where many can only dream of glory."
"There is no glory in war," Buffy replied sternly. "War is stupid and pointless. People die because they don't know how to survive. They're not ready to face what's to come because they can't fight what they don't know. I've been through war and I've been through hell. I know enough to give you nightmares. If my presence is envied, it should be because I'm still alive."
"You speak of war and battle as though they are commonplace," Éowyn said, her voice dropping.
"Where I come from, war is daily," Buffy said. "I don't think it'll ever stop. Until the First evil is gone from this place, it'll never stop coming. I go to war because I'm not going to leave my friends behind." This time, she was able to step away before she half-turned again. "War can only come to those that believe in it enough to win. Victory comes to those who believe in it the longest. I have fought many wars and have yet to lose one. I don't intend to start losing now."
That said, she turned and ducked back inside her tent and began to dress again, pulling on her Ranger's armor. By the time the summons came, she was all set to go. The horses were already set up. Walking to her own mare, she put her pack and her weaponry in the saddle before turning to Aragorn, who was approaching. She threaded her pack back onto the horse as she rose gracefully into her saddle and turned her. Legolas and Gimli were next to her, and they both regarded her for a moment.
The entire group rode to the edge of the encampment before Aragorn met them again. His face was tense, and there was a single figure following him, pleading. It was Éowyn. Judging by the heartbroken expression on her face, Aragorn had just rejected her advances. Buffy rode forward casually and looked down at the tear-streaked face.
"He cannot give me what I seek," she said softly, staring up at the jade eyes gently shining back at her.
"What you seek is more than a crown of old," Buffy said quietly. "You seek to be of the same fashion as the Kings of times past. You still have that dream, Éowyn. It's not over because he said it is. It's not over until you're dead and even then…" She broke off and gave the younger woman a parting smile. "Be safe."
And the entire party swept through the narrow tunnel towards the Paths of the Dead.
Over the land there lies a long shadow.
The ride was uneasy at first, as they all huddled together to protect the horses which seemed ready to bolt at the first sign of danger. Legolas seemed keen to recount the story and Buffy found herself listening to help ease her restlessness.
A soft moan whispered through the wind. Buffy felt her eyes narrow as she glanced at the jagged rocks on her right.
He had only started when silence befell them as they approached the Dimholt.
Leading their nervous horses into the caverns was another thing altogether, Buffy thought dryly as she all but dragged the beast behind her. She kept her opposite hand on the sword attached to her left hip, always ready to defend. The others crept around her, and in the darkness, there were four faint shadows of glowing figures.
Elladan, carrying one of the three torches, dropped to the rear. Feeling as though she couldn't leave one of her own behind, Buffy dropped back with him.
"You should move ahead," he said sternly, swinging the torch back and forth.
"I'm not leaving your side," she said firmly. "You take rear, I take rear. Got it?"
"You have the most peculiar ways," Elladan said, frowning at the glowing woman standing at his side.
"Thank you," she said, smirking as she pulled slightly ahead, dragging her horse beside her.
Shadows crept along the wall as they moved as quickly as they could. She heard Aragorn calling out somewhere in the distance ahead.
"It's so dark," Buffy muttered under her breath as the last of the daylight passed away.
"Do not fear the darkness," Elladan said softly, reaching for her arm in the night. "They will sense your fears."
"It's hard to believe that I'm the Slayer and I'm afraid of the dark," she said, chuckling harshly.
"We have many fears," Elladan said in his wisest tone, swinging the torch over to bring light to her face. "To know that yours have conquered death is much."
"Hmm, you have a point," she added dryly as they turned a sharp corner. She bit back a startled gasp as he foot collided on something hard that shattered beneath the touch. "What was that?"
The torch lowered and her eyes fell upon a layer of human bones beneath her feet. She bit back a cry as she latched onto Elladan's arm.
"Why couldn't this have all just been another one of those grand stories?" she moaned as Elladan gave her a bemused look.
"What did you think happened to all of those who disturbed these halls?" he asked her, watching as she tried stepping gingerly around the skulls crackling beneath their feet. It didn't help that both of their steeds trod over the bones as though it was just plain earth.
"I didn't want to know," she retorted, taking a bit of a jump over a rather large stack of crushed bones, thoroughly ground into the earth from the passage of the party before them.
They finally reached a large cavern. Buffy practically ran into the circle of murky green light swirling about them. A peal of dark laughter surrounded them, and from the ground came long green, ghostly hands, as though bodies were coming out of the ground.
Buffy pulled out her sword, but in a single motion Elladan pushed her hand away. "Wait for this," he said quietly. "We must summon them, not intimidate them."
Well, when he put it that way…
Buffy sheathed her sword as Aragorn stepped forward, handing the torch to Legolas.
"I summon thee to fight and I will hold your oaths fulfilled."
Just these words brought a chill down her spine as she waited next to the Elf, breathing hard.
"Why must you always look to fight?" Elladan asked, more amusement in her voice.
"I'll fight you if you don't be quiet," she said, trying in vain not to lose her temper.
"You have such affinity for violence."
"I have what?" she asked, turning around to look at him when Halbarad turned and gave her a severe look. She retaliated by making a face of mock-indignation and sticking out her tongue. All of those who saw her reveled in the fact that, at her age, she could act like such youth. It brought a release to a tense moment as they were now surrounded by hoards of tall green men, all see-through and glowing.
"Fight for us, and I shall hold your oaths fulfilled."
Hundreds of sharp, glowing weapons were lifted in the air as the green figures pressed around those gathered inside the cavern. The horses neighed impatiently as Aragorn turned towards the exit. Just then, there was a grand sweep of green as the way was cleared.
"The way is shut… it was made by those who are dead… and the dead keep it… until the time comes…"
That did enough for her nerves as Aragorn took his torch back, lifted Anduil, and made his way through the long tunnel leading out the other side of the mountain.
Daylight came quickly as the thirty three members of their party came out of the hole in the mountain and settled on a great hill, stretching down to the Anduin below. At the foot of the mouth of the Anduin were the ruins of Pelargir. Buffy walked a small ways away before she turned to look at the scenery around her. They were approaching the city from the north.
And, on the banks of the great bay in the far distance, were many corsairs' ships.
But before she could charge forward, a hand latched onto her arm, pulling her backwards.
"Hey, get off," she protested, feeling her feet moving backwards as she was dragged back on top of the hill.
"We must have a sufficient plan," Aragorn replied, giving her a stern look as Elrohir finally released her, looking slightly irritated.
"We charge, your dead army attacks, and we kick butt," she said, waving her sword around impatiently.
"That is the way a Dagnir may handle things," Aragorn said in a voice of practiced patience. "It is not the way a royal would handle this."
"I keep forgetting the lot of you are all a bunch of royal pansies," she muttered coolly, jabbing her sword in the ground. "Okay, how about this? You do your thing, and I'll do mine." She glanced at the rock face behind them, where the black standard Arwen had sewn for him waved in the breeze, held by Halbarad.
Turning, she pulled her sword from the ground and averted her eyes away from theirs. She knew that Aragorn was worried she would do something stupid, but reckless was one thing a Slayer had to be. Improvisation was only an art perfected through time, and Buffy had had far too much time to hone in these skills. And they were rather alarming as she tore down the hill and, after a small pause, the others followed.
They traveled all of the way towards the hills over Pelargir. Night had started to fall on their third day of the journey, and the fires below grew brighter. Buffy kept low to the ground, well aware that the glow she emitted would send a warning to the Corsairs now not more than a few hundred meters away.
But before she could charge out, a figure landed in the grass next to her. She turned to see one of the other Rangers, his sword in hand as he crawled over to the spot where she was watching. "We should attack from the river."
"I agree," Buffy murmured, casting her eyes down to the river, where many figures were now rolling out barrels. "So, it's just you and me."
"He was hoping for a diversion," the Ranger replied, moving stealthily to her opposite side to allow her to see the path they were to take.
"I'll give him a diversion," she said firmly, her eyes now on the figures, counting each one of them.
"How?" the Ranger asked, gazing at her suspiciously.
"I'm going to kill them all," she replied, moving off down the hill. "That ought to distract them."
The Ranger had no choice but to follow behind her. She was like a spitfire when it came to many things and fighting was when she was working at her best. He found her racing along as fast as she could, since he could still see the light glowing from her.
She finally leapt from a small ledge onto the river rock below, crouching low as she ran towards the boats. From a distance, she saw Aragorn approaching the hills and cursed under her breath. She had to give him credit; he knew she wasn't going to fight if he was in the line of fire. She dropped back even further, her eyes narrowing in the gloomy light. Well, she'd show him. She was going to show them all…
Suddenly spying one of the ships in front of her, she changed tactics. Dropping most of her armor and all of her weapons but her sword, she approached the shoreline of the bay. The Ranger stood and watched as she turned and quietly entered the cold harbor water. "What are you doing?" he demanded as he followed up to the shore, watching as she waded in water up to her waist as she approached the ship.
She turned to him, grinning in the darkness. "Diverting," she said innocently, turning back and diving underwater.
This wasn't the way Aragorn had wanted it, the Ranger groaned. He was forced to follow her as the Corsairs were now alerted to the presence of outlanders.
Buffy emerged from the water on the other side of the boat, breathing hard as her hands grasped the wooden planks. She pulled herself up beam by beam until she reached a gaping slit. As the Ranger emerged from underneath her, she slipped one leg inside the boat and hoisted herself to safety.
She dropped hard on her back, her sword landing very near her head. She rolled out of the way just as it came down with a loud clang. Hearing the sound of laughter outside, she stood up, having to stoop because of the low ceiling where she was. She longed to have a light, but traced her way away from the water-side to the opposite wall before landing a swift kick.
The beams burst open as the woman pushed her way through. There was more light in the narrow passageway and it filled the tiny storage room she'd crawled into. She was just about to leave it behind when she heard a loud grunt behind her. She turned about, her sword in the air as she aimed it right at the Ranger, caught halfway between the floor and the rest of the ship, where he was trapped by his larger frame.
The sight of a woman standing there, an astonished hand over her mouth, was enough to make the Ranger even less thrilled. "Do you think you can tear yourself away from amusement and lend me a hand?"
He swore he heard her giggle as she walked back in. Instead of grabbing him and yanking him through, probably to his death from splinters, she started prying away the boards above his back until he could get his footing and landed in an unceremonious heap at her feet.
But, to his surprise, she helped him back up, brushing away the wooden dust and splinters adorning his dripping cloak. "You should have stripped," she said, turning in her own dripping clothes and lifting up her sword. She was surprisingly light on her feet, despite the fact she was soaking wet. They climbed up onto the deck beneath the top and heard the jeers and the shrieks of the Corsairs above them.
"Do not do anything foolish until Aragorn has had the chance to parley," the Ranger muttered in her ear as she approached the ladder beneath the top hatch. There was eagerness in her eyes that slightly disturbed the Ranger. Well, Aragorn never said she was the sane one.
"We do not parley with outsiders!" a voice in the distance shouted to the rise of more laughter.
Aragorn's response was mumbled.
She took a step up and the Ranger's arm came around her waist and pulled her squirming form back down. "I want to hear!" she protested, pushing him away.
"Perhaps it would be wisest to choose a different approach," he said, glaring at the movement in the boards above them. "To know that we come in the middle of the enemy would be most amusing."
"Spoil-sport," Buffy grumbled as she walked to the other end and glanced around. "That's the only one unless we… oh…" Her eyes were on the opposite side. She saw bits of firelight filtering through the boards. She ran quickly over to the wall and pushed against it, pulling board after board from the ship and depositing them at her feet. "I think it's time to climb again, Ranger boy." Turning, she pulled herself outside again.
With another muted sigh of impatience, the Ranger followed her. Once they had gotten to the top of the ship, they both pulled themselves onto the top deck. Buffy rolled over on her back and saw the smoky haze from the barrel fires burning around them. "That was… a workout," she sighed, rolling over onto her stomach and crawling over to a stack of crates and fishing nets.
Now she heard Aragorn's voice, loud and clear.
"We will have to take your ships by force," the future King was saying.
"I think I liked my plan better," Buffy grumbled. "He's just going to piss them off."
"I am beginning to think your plan was better as well," said the Ranger, sitting next to her, his own sword in his hand. She tried not to laugh at his frustrated face and the stupid cloak he wore that was all ripped from his crawl through the tiny space into the ship. His face was cut in two places and she reached forward, touching him with surprisingly warm hands.
"You look like hell," she said, giving him a soft half-smile, her features reflecting in the flickering light around them.
There was a sudden cry, a shriek and the sound of footsteps moving.
"Now he's pissed them off," Buffy said, getting to her knees and pushing one of the crates aside. Both of them watched as the figures on the boat went over to the railing to watch as one of their own fell from the boat, an arrow to his heart. "This is just… great," she huffed, getting to her feet. The Ranger looked at her. "Come on."
They both darted across the deck, quick as a shadow as another voice called out, "With what army will you attempt to waylay us?"
Aragorn's answer was firm. "This army."
With a roar of approval that he'd finally decided to act instead of talk, she burst forward, pulling out her sword. The Corsair pirates on the top deck didn't know what had happened by the time the Slayer met them. The Ranger followed behind her, both watching the other's back as the fought their way across the ship.
The rest of the harbor was swept through by thousands of ghostly green figures.
"This is… fun!" she cried, pulling out her sword from one of the pirates and kicking him overboard.
"I must admit I do find this most enjoyable," said the Ranger, watching as his own prey fell head over heels into the water below. Even though he was from Arnor in the north, to know that he was battling against the sworn blood-enemies of Gondor was most satisfying.
There were cries from below as the rest of the Rangers went to free one of the larger parties of Gondorians.
"It's always nice when we pick up armies," Buffy said, taking a small break to make certain that they had secured this ship.
"Would you care to continue this fight below?" the Ranger asked, opening the hatch with a bit of flourish.
"Lead on."
They met hardly any resistance until they reached the bottom of the ship. After slaying both guards easily, Buffy kicked open the door they'd been guarding and found… people. "Here!" she shouted, as the Ranger approached, handing her his torch. She ducked inside the room and her eyes widened slightly. There were faces, many of them young men. They all wore terrified looks at the sight of a young woman that glowed quite radiantly standing in the doorway sopping wet.
And the only thing she could think of to say was, "Heya."
The Ranger behind her snorted, "Perhaps it would be best to let me handle this."
"No," she said, switching hands as she put her sword back into its sheath. "Don't be afraid," she said, giving them what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "I am not going to hurt you."
"Who… who are you?" one of the smaller boys asked, looking at her in wonder. "You glow like those told in tales long ago."
"She is an Elf," another child said, gazing at her with eyes wide with astonishment.
"I'm a Ranger," she said, smirking slightly as she stood aside. "And you've just been freed. Now come on… go! Get out of here!"
She counted them as they swept past her. There were twenty seven of them. Turning to glance at the Ranger, he shrugged and they both made their way slowly back to the top deck.
Two of the ships in the harbor were now swarming with green beings, but she noticed a fourth ship was coming up quickly, at the heed of the screams of pain and agony as the Corsairs suffered the wrath of one mightily pissed off Ranger of Arnor.
They both sped to the edge of the rail, where a deck had been lowered and the prisoners were now dashing onto the docks below.
The ship was still approaching. They could hear a language far different from their own being shouted.
She raced to the opposite end just as Elladan and Elrohir spied her and hurried to get the remaining Gondorians from the ship. After that task had been complete, they raced up the plank to find Buffy at the opposite end of the ship, pulling herself on the opposite side.
"Dagnir!"
She nearly fell forward right then. She turned and saw the twin sons racing towards her. "What are your intentions?"
"I just feel like going for a little swim," she said, giving them both a bright smile. "I'll be all right. Don't worry." And she threw herself off the edge of the ship, disappearing into the water below.
The scene on land was chaos. The Corsairs were being outnumbered severely by the Army of the Dead. They also had over a dozen ships being boarded by these greenish ghosts, and the fact that there were normal, ordinary people taking the call to arms and fighting against their oppressors, they began to see the fight as lost.
All of their hopes remained in the single ship now coming up besides one that had been freed, arrows bouncing harmlessly off the wooden deck, for there was no one left to kill.
Buffy came up out of the water, scaling the anchor chain until she reached a place where she could latch onto the ship and she grabbed on.
Pulling herself up was another matter completely. She finally managed to roll onto the deck. She heard the voices crying out in alarm as green figures approached from the shoreline.
But there was another voice, and it was saying that there was a glowing object right underneath the anchor chain.
"Crap," she muttered, pulling out her sword. Seeing a barrel burning next to her, she pulled out one of the logs just as a war-cry rang out.
She stood up quickly, easily stunning the Corsairs with the fact that she wasn't very tall, nor was she very masculine.
"You know what," she said, stepping cleanly over a crate and kicking a second aside. "I'm really not in the mood to kill anymore. If you all just want to give up right here, I'll be happy to listen."
She stepped to the right just in time as a sword flew past her left ear, flying off the end of the ship.
"Okay, that was rude," she said angrily, brandishing her own sword with a twirl as she dropped her torch back inside the barrel.
They jumped at the chance to kill her then. She kicked the first one away and bent down before kicking out a second figure. The third figure she clashed swords with twice before her blade came across his neck and she kicked him back. With a twirl and a battle cry of her own, she launched herself into the fight against dozens of Corsairs, more who were coming up to see what was happening.
She jumped on a wench and grasped a rope, lifting her feet just as a sword came to cut her at the feet. Instead, it caught the rope, and the Slayer went soaring into the air. "Whoa!" she cried out. As she came down again, she tilted, easily cutting through a small throng of Corsairs before she flipped and easily came to her feet, her sword landing in her hand a moment later. They charged at her again, but before they could advance much further, they paused, their faces full of fear.
Buffy swung her sword down and grabbed the torch again with her hands. "That's right. Be afraid, be very, very—"
Her voice was cut off as a single arrow flew through the air, impaling itself in the forehead of the man she'd been jeering.
Elladan, Elrohir and her Ranger had arrived, all three of them looking disgruntled, and their ship full of green baddies were now streaming onto this ship.
The torch was taken gently from her hands.
"This was my ship!" Buffy exclaimed, stomping down one sodden boot. "Go find your own bloody ship."
Within hours, it was over. The Corsairs were utterly defeated, and the last of the scouts from the south were laid to waste as Aragorn claimed the fleet for Gondor, taking the lead ship and replacing the pirate's black flag with his own standard of Arwen. Buffy took a moment as she approached him to admire the seven stones gleaming in the rising sunlight. Aragorn looked restless, especially since he had just freed the Army of the Dead and had armed several hundred men and boys with weapons found in the old stores of the broken city.
"I like it," she said, tilting her head to better observe it. "It's… pretty."
He glanced down at her bemused smirk and sighed. "Why did you not do as I told?"
"You can't expect a Slayer to sit around and let men do all of the work," she said with a teasing smile.
"That is all with the plainest," he said, frowning, "but my instructions were for you to free to prisons on the land."
"What?" she gasped. Then, rolling her eyes, she burst into laughter. "Oh, my God…"
Aragorn watched as she laughed before joining in himself as the friends enjoyed one last laugh before turning to the blood-red sunrise appearing with the dark clouds over their heads.
"We must hurry," she said, walking over and leaning on the railing.
"I fear by the time we arrive the city will fall," Aragorn said, coming up beside her.
"I can see…" she said, frowning slightly as a vision passed through her mind. "The city is burning… and the armies are failing. The drive the enemy from the walls, but Rohan has yet to come."
"Rohan will come," Aragorn said stoutly. "There is much courage there, as there is here." He placed his hand over her bruised one. "You have yet to lose your courage or your will to fight."
"I'll be dead the day that comes," she said softly, watching as the last remained of sunlight was swallowed by the darkness. "I'm hoping it'll be awhile yet… but there's so much death. There's so much hate in this world… and you know what? I don't want to hate anymore."
Aragorn gave her a somewhat comforting smile before moving away.
Things had started to change, Buffy realized. She hadn't wanted them to. She was happy with her life the way it was, the way it had been before war and the Ring and the Fellowship. She felt a dull ache in her heart and sighed, dropping down on the wooden planks, feeling as though her entire being was spent. She had been fighting for so long now.
She dropped her sword beside her.
Do not despair, the voice inside her head spoke. Do not give in to fear.
I have nothing left to fear, she replied. Maybe it's because I have nothing left.
That is despair, Meleth-nîn. It has no place inside your heart.
If I have a heart… I can't even feel anything. All I feel is cold, but my skin is warm.
These are not thoughts you should be having before you go into war.
I know this, she said, her heart aching slightly at the thought. But I feel so lost. I feel like I'm not even here. It's like I'm not supposed to be here, and yet, here I am. .
Be strong, my Dagnir. I have faith in you.
You're the one that always did, she thought, smiling down at her knees. The thing is, I'm not sure I want to be the Slayer anymore.
The voice faded from her head as a pair of boots approached. With the arrival of the other Rangers, Halbarad handed her the cape, armor and the rest of her weaponry.
Aragorn gave the signal to get underway. Buffy rose and quickly found a replacement so her other clothes could dry. She walked, wearing a long cloak worn as a gown. What she didn't realize is that instead of her glow diminishing, it was growing brighter in intensity.
She chose to go with one of the rear ships, to have the opportunity to help train the newly-recruited Lebennese army. The two Elves nearest to her watched her go, exchanging a look, for her demeanor had changed much in the few hours since the one battle.
She sat on the head of the ship, watching the ships in front of her sail. She watched Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli work with their own men to get the ship moving and was somewhat proud when hers was the first to move.
Halbarad joined her then. "I could not leave you to be alone," he said, walking up beside her.
"I'm not alone," she said, glancing up at him. It was true. She wasn't the only hero anymore. She didn't have to be. It could all be over. All she had to do was say the magic words, and she would never be called upon to risk her neck again. She had a future to dream up and a wedding to plan. She had someone waiting for her back at a new home, one that had claimed her heart years before.
She had no need for this.
If she were to die, she would leave behind those that loved her. Well, she knew one loved her. She had friends in both the Elves and the men, it seemed. And she had lasting bonds with these Rangers.
It would be a great shame to die now, in a world so cold and hateful, when her skin was still so warm to touch.
The light of the Eldar had been the greatest blessing ever, she decided. She still felt thirty, despite the fact she had aged considerably.
Her hearing picked up the traces of a great battle in the distance and she turned away from Halbarad, clasping his shoulder as she moved on.
In the dark, my fears release
My mind is set for peace…
The night wears on, colder than black ice
My sweet release is death
I have nowhere to go, I have yet to follow
The paths of the life I left behind
And still I fight my hardest fears
Remaining with me all my life
With a sigh, I remember the sounds
Of a life, of love, lost long ago
Where they have gone, where to go
I have not the heart to tell.
- - - - -
the end.