Equinoxium: Chapter 4
by Lisette

Legalese: See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

With a soft sigh the trees stretched and groaned as they slowly settled back into their normal rhythm, peace once more falling upon the golden wood. Instantly a quiet symphony began as the wind rustled in the trees, the birds twittering as they flitted from branch to branch, and as the insects once more resumed their quiet play. Crouching before the young woman that had suddenly appeared before them, Legolas trailed his keen gaze confusedly over the petite woman, taking in her small, delicate features, the rounded tips of her ears, and the strange garments that bound her form.

"Does she live?" Mirdan asked as he narrowed his gaze over the tip of his drawn arrow, his brown eyes conveying his concern as he tried to nudge a loosened strand of chestnut from his face with the high arch of his shoulder.

"Aye, she breathes still," Legolas murmured, his hand held lightly above her parted lips as a warm rush of air tickled his skin.

"A fact that I find quite apparent," Thoron added archly as he pointedly shifted his gaze from his crouched prince to the tight leather bodice that shifted with each of the young woman's even breaths.

Suddenly a pained groan interrupted their quiet musings as the girl shifted on the ground before them, causing Legolas to dart back until he was once more standing beside his companions, his bow notched and aimed before he realized what he was doing. Yet even as his finger tensely held the taut bow string, his brow creased as his eyes swept over her petite frame and froze upon the long, golden locks that had fallen free from their bindings to trail over her pale cheeks. Instantly his nightmare flashed before his vision, creating a cacophony of shattered images of blood, the eerie twilight of the sun and moon in their war in the sky, and the same locks of pale blonde hair as they tumbled free from the restrictive hood that hid their mistress's frame - the woman that he had killed in order to save them all. Frowning, he tightened his fingers on his bow string as the arrow lowered until it was pointing at her heart.

"My Lord?" Mirdan questioned, his eyes darting to his liege.

For a moment, Legolas struggled against the nightmare that had haunted his every night for the past several weeks, and lately, even his waking moments. Imperceptivity, his fingers began to tremble against the thin string that held the stranger's life in the balance, his mind caught in a battle of wills between dreams that he did not pretend to understand and a stronger, more logical part of his mind that begged for caution - for time. He had spilled much blood in the past ten years... in the past five hundred, and in the end, that final thought was the one that drove him to hold his notched arrow, his eyes narrowed upon the young woman. "Hold," he murmured as the girl once more began to stir.

Sighing softly, Buffy slowly shifted on the hard ground, trying to avoid the rock that was digging into the small of her back. She was disoriented, her body was aching, her eyes felt as though they were being held down by bags of sand, and she felt far too constricted in the strange, soft leather that was wrapped around her petite frame. And more than that, she was confused.

There was hard ground beneath her, softened slightly by a thick cushion of what felt like scattered leaves, and a stream of cool air brushed against her skin, kissing her cheeks and drawing her towards full awareness. Her mouth was dry and her throat felt scratchy, as though she had spent too many hours giving speeches to the Potentials that she housed...

...and yet the ground was most definitely not her bed and the sound of the wind whispering through the trees felt wrong. It felt different. And as her breath caught in her throat, the petite slayer felt her muscles contract as she finally remembered why.

Whistler.

The fight.

The pain and... the darkness.

She knew without looking that the spell had worked because everything around her felt different and foreign, from the creaking sounds of the trees as they shifted in the slight breeze, to the soft breaths that were decidedly not her own.... not her own.

She wasn't alone, and as this wasn't her home, that meant that the people that were breathing so softly weren't Willow, Xander, Dawn nor Spike... and they certainly weren't Giles.

Muscles tensing, Buffy took a slow, deep breath as she forced that single thought to the furthest corners of her mind before finally allowing her eyes to slip open - and immediately wished that she hadn't as a flood of bright light caused her green eyes to tear. Lifting a shaking hand to shade her hurting eyes, she refused to allow them to slip shut as she instinctively turned towards the figures that were gathered a few feet away, her gaze taking in the hazy creatures that were bathed in light, each suffused with its own bright luminescence.

"Ouch - you're all glowy," Buffy groaned as she tried to roll away from their innate light - and then froze as her heart contracted painfully in her chest. Maybe it was the five months that her body had spent rotting beneath the ground in a cold casket, or perhaps the following year that she spent recovering from the ordeal of being ripped from paradise only to be thrust back into Hell, but initial thoughts of glowing beings immediately brought to mind the Heaven that she could barely recall. After all, there wasn't much that she remembered about that time or place, outside of the feelings of peace, warmth, and security... but glowing people seemed to fit the stereotypes and initially... initially she couldn't help the wild hope that blossomed at the thought that somehow Willow had been able to send her back to where she truly belonged. After all, while given a choice between life in a strange world and Heaven - well, Heaven was starting to sound pretty damn good. Sure, Heaven wasn't Sunnydale, and she seriously doubted that anyone would ever mistake the two, but Heaven was still better than being alone.

Forcing her aching body to sit, Buffy tentatively turned towards the glowing beings and watched as their glow began to fade until it disappeared altogether... and left her staring into the suspicious eyes of three of the most beautiful creatures that she had ever seen. Breath catching in her throat, the slayer traced her eyes over features that were undeniably male and quite human, save for their breathtaking beauty and grace. Tall, lean bodies clothed in form-fitting leggings and suede tunics that hung to their knees, long cloaks trailing behind lithe figures, pale skin that was unbelievably clear and flawless, strong, proud features, and hair that was long and smooth, varying from the palest golden blond to two others that were a deep, rich brown... and all holding three beautifully crafted long bows that were currently notched with delicately pointed arrows that were pointed at her heart.

"Somehow, I'm thinking that the Heaven guess may have been a bit premature," Buffy murmured with a small frown as she slowly pushed herself to her feet. Grimacing, the petite slayer looked past the three ethereal beings and at the large, ancient trees that towered above them all. "Yep, definitely not Heaven," she sighed as she straightened her long jacket around her small frame. "I guess I was thinking more poofy clouds with naked babies carrying harps," she continued as she turned back towards the three creatures who hadn't moved throughout her entire inspection - a fact that was surprising seeing as how their arms had not even begun to waiver beneath the tension of the strings they held.

"Where am I?" she asked as she allowed her senses to fully awaken to the world around her. The waning sunlight spoke of late afternoon and the golden leaves that crunched beneath her booted feet told of autumn - and yet the creatures that stood before her prickled something within her senses that told her as assuredly of the coming night that none of the three were human. Yet when the ethereal beings merely looked to one another, their fair features creased in confusion, Buffy's lips twisted into a grimace. "Do you even speak English?" she asked as she wearily lifted one trembling hand and rubbed it over her brow.

Delicate lips pulling down into a frown, the blond slowly lowered his bow as his eyes, as blue as a summer day, trailed speculatively over her small form before finally locking his gaze with hers. Instantly, Buffy felt as though the weight of the world pressed upon her small shoulders as she shifted beneath his gaze, trying desperately to tear her eyes away and succeeding only when he finally relented and released her gaze from his own. Yet in that moment, Buffy had briefly seen past his young features to see an aged weight that was nearly impossible for her mortal mind to comprehend. Hands trembling, Buffy found her mind vainly trying to grasp her usual equanimity as she floundered beneath the realization that she was in a place that she didn't know, facing beings that she couldn't comprehend... and doing it all alone for the first time, with no Watcher or Scoobies to back her. "You know, English?" she persisted, her voice lacking its usual bravado as she unconsciously wrapped her arms around her waist, her eyes locked on the leave-strewn ground before her.

Frown deepening, the blond creature slowly shook his head, his long hair shifting around his slender shoulders. "I know not of this English," he stated, his voice a strange, rich mix of light and musical alto tones that unwittingly brought a small smile to Buffy's lips, her eyes darting forward to trace the lines of the creature's perfectly sculpted lips. "Yet I do speak Westron. We all do," he clarified as he tilted his head toward his companions.

Frowning, Buffy quickly lifted her eyes, the spell broken, as she once more tried to focus. "Right... but you're speaking English now," she pointed out as she turned to his stoic companions - and nearly faltered as she realized that the faces of the other two seemed as though they were carved from stone, their jaws held rigid and unmoving and their dark eyes flinty and cold.

"No," he countered, his fair features creasing as he slowly eyed the slayer as though she were quite mad, "we are speaking Westron, or the Common Tongue, as it is also known."

"Well it sure sounds like English to me," Buffy returned as she turned from the trio with a soft, frustrated sigh to glare tiredly at the deep wood that was spread around them - and then frowned as she began to discern beautifully crafted structures that seemed a part of the wood itself, built high in the branches above. "Where am I?" she repeated as she turned and started towards a nearby tree, her eyes tracing what looked to be a large landing high above.

Cautiously, the blond slowly indicated for his companions to lower their weapons as he traced her movements with his sharp eyes. "You are in Mirkwood, the former realm of the woodland elves," he replied, his musical voice once more catching Buffy by surprise as she turned back towards him, her confusion only mounting.

"So... where's that in relation to California?" Buffy weakly returned, her smile forced as her arms tightened around her waist. She was beginning to feel quite cold... far colder than the warm afternoon warranted.

Blue eyes narrowing, the blond creature slowly shook his head. "I know not of the place of which you speak and I know much of this land," he stated, his voice soft. "To my knowledge, there is no such place in all of Middle-earth."

"Middle Earth?" Buffy parroted, her voice a mere whisper as she turned away from the creatures once more. "Middle-earth," she repeated, trying out the name on her tongue even as her legs gave way beneath her as she collapsed into an undignified heap upon the leaf-strewn forest floor. "Not Earth... Middle-earth," she repeated as she began to shake, her arms tightening around her waist to the point where her ribs began to ache. "Middle-earth," she whispered as the tears began to burn in her eyes.

Willow had done it. She had done as the Powers That Be demanded and had sent her away in order to restore the balance to her home. Willow had sent her away and that meant that... that they were gone. Willow. Xander. Dawn. Spike. Anya. Faith. Even Andrew and the girls... they were all gone, left to carry on in her absence. And she'd never see any of them again. They were all as dead to her as Giles... Giles.

A small sob choking in her throat, Buffy slowly knelt forward until her forehead was pressed against her hands as she crouched on the forest floor. Giles was dead. They had killed Giles and he was gone forever - and in a way, it was as though the First Evil had won, for not only was Giles lost to her forever, but the same was true for everyone else that she had ever loved. They were all gone forever and she was all alone. Forever.

Eyes growing soft as the young woman began to quietly sob into the leaves that were spread beneath her, Legolas slowly backed away until he and his companions were gathered together. As an elf, a being that was naturally far more attuned to the world around them, the young woman's emotions were so powerful that it was almost painful. He could almost taste the grief, the anger, and the overwhelming helplessness that seemed to mire her in its twisted grip - one that he unconsciously tried to shy away from.

"What has just happened?" Mirdan asked, his low words pitched for the ears of his companions as he instinctively switched into their native tongue, his dark eyes flitting to his prince and lord before glancing back to the young woman.

"I know not," Thoron cut in, his fingers toying with the arrow that he still clenched tightly in one, white-knuckled hand, "but I do know that it was evil. My Lord, we should leave this place at once," he continued as he turned towards his liege, his dark eyes boring into Legolas' blue.

"But what do we do with her?" Mirdan continued as he glanced towards the young woman, his features softening into a look of compassion. "We cannot leave her here."

"Of course we can!" Thoron argued as he glared at the other elf, his shoulders straightening slightly as he felt his will press against that of the other elf. Mirdan was younger than he, only a few thousand years old, and while he had been reared in Mirkwood amongst the shadows, he had been too young to take part in any of the great battles. Mirdan had never truly experienced Sauron nor Morgoth's evil as he had - and he hoped that the elf never would. And yet while Mirdan was young, his age still topped that of his liege by more than two thousand years. Legolas, born just after the end of the Watchful Peace, a mere five hundred and sixty years previous, was the last elf to be born on the shores of Middle-earth - the last elf that would ever be born in Middle-earth. And yet he had been born into the royal family of Mirkwood, the youngest son of King Thranduil, and more importantly, the one elf that had been chosen to represent the Firstborn in the War of the Rings. He had willingly joined Frodo the Periannath, had become one of the Nine Walkers, and had seen more darkness and battle than many elves that were thousands of years his senior. And he was their leader, their lord, and the last elf of royal blood that still dwelt in Middle-earth, aside from the twin sons of Elrond that still rode in the wilds with the Rangers of the North. He was their captain, and as such, Thoron quickly turned his eyes and his arguments to his lord. "She is not natural," he persisted as he leveled his gaze upon Legolas, trying his best to ignore the other elf that stood beside him. "We should leave her-"

"She is obviously of the race of Men," Mirdan cut in, his voice turning thoughtful as he once more glanced at the sobbing woman, pointedly ignoring Thoron's irritated sigh. "Lake Town is only a day's ride from here. We should take her there and leave her to her people-"

"She is not our responsibility!" Thoron interrupted, his voice growing taut with anger as he glared at the other elf. "My Lord, we should leave at once!" he argued as he turned back towards Legolas - and frowned as he realized that the prince was still staring at the young woman, his eyes filled with the same light that had caused them to travel from Ithilien in the first place. "My Lord?"

Ignoring his two companions, Legolas frowned softly as the young woman's sobs finally fell silent and the corded muscles along her arms and legs began to grow taut. Stilling, he quickly waved towards his companions for silence as she slowly lifted her head, one hand scrubbing away her tears as her eyes began to scour the quiet woods.

"My spider sense is tingling," Buffy murmured as her slayer sense began to whisper a warning to her scattered mind, her legs somehow finding the strength to support her as she clambered to her feet. In seconds she pushed aside the heartache, the memories, and the overwhelming feeling of loss as she gripped this small warning with a tenacity that would have surprised Giles. This sense of danger - this warning - was something familiar and something that she could understand. It was something that she could focus on and give her some small anchor to cling to in a world that she no longer understood. It was exactly what she needed in order to find her focus.

"Spiders?" Mirdan questioned as he instinctively reached for his bow, his eyes darting to the trees above.

Startled, Buffy turned to the dark-haired creature and found herself following his gaze into the trees. For a blessed moment she had almost forgotten about the strangers that had been arguing vehemently whilst she had been lost in her grief. Now, however, she found herself gazing once more upon the trio as she slowly shook her head. "It's just an expression," she explained, deciding that debates on the guy's apparent arachnophobia could wait until another day. "I just meant that something's wiggy," she continued as the elf slowly lowered his bow, all three now staring at her in mounting confusion. Sighing, Buffy rolled her eyes and was about to try again when the small whisper spiked into a thundering scream that caused the fine hairs on the back of her neck to lift. "Evil. Lots of evil, and it's coming our way," she murmured as she quickly spun and looked out into the thick trees that blocked her keen sight.

Frowning, Legolas cocked his head to the side as he once more regarded the strange puzzle that stood before him - only to have his musings cut short as the trees' lulling song began to carry a whispered warning. "Orcs," he murmured as he reached for his weapons, his comrades turning to him in surprise as they instinctively followed his lead.

"This close to the palace, and with the moon not yet risen?" Mirdan questioned, unconsciously falling back into their native tongue as he notched an arrow, his sharp gaze piercing through the shadowed rays beneath the towering trees.

"It is no longer our palace, and beneath the trees of Mirkwood, even the brightest sun has its limits," Thoron returned, his voice grim as he moved back a pace.

Sighing, Legolas silently acceded to Thoron's assessment. He was right, after all. Even though the trees lamented the passing of the Wood Elves, his father had ceded this part of the forest and all claims to these lands when he and his people abandoned the forest months ago. The forest no longer belonged to the Wood Elves, and that meant that any were free to come and go through these parts... including the abominations that still dwelt in too many parts of their world. "To the trees," Legolas ordered, his voice hard as he shouldered his bow long enough to jump and snag a thick branch with his hands before twisting himself into the tree above.

Frowning, Mirdan watched as Thoron followed their lord, before the younger elf turned his eyes once more to the strange young woman, her green eyes drawn wide and locked on the branches above them. "Come, my Lady," he stated, switching back to the Common Tongue as he tentatively stepped closer to the maiden, idly noting how he towered over her petite frame. "We must get to the safety of the trees."

Finally pulling her gaze away from where the other two had disappeared into the high branches, Buffy looked skeptically at the long, pale hand that was held before her. To be suddenly thrust into a world that wasn't her own and immediately be confronted by three beings that were, admittedly, far prettier than she was, was disconcerting at best. But then to find out that the beings were apparently part monkey, and that instead of using their spiffy looking bows to take on the approaching evil, they would rather hide up in some very large, pretty trees was something else entirely. Then again, this wasn't her world, and as such, Buffy ignored the being's hand and instead turned a critical eye to the nearest, lowest, and thickest tree branch she could find - one that happened to be holding the one with the golden hair.

Walking past the dark-haired creature, she tilted her head back and quietly gauged the distance, a mere fifteen feet, and then jumped up and gripped the thick branch with each hand before swinging up and flipping herself around until she landed precariously on the branch beside the slender being - and then proceeded to tip forward, her arms pin-wheeling to either side.

"Hold!" Legolas hissed, quickly overcoming his shock as he caught one of her arms and steadied her on the branch beside him. "How did you do that?" he demanded as he gently guided her until her back was pressed against the base of the tree, her small hands gripping the rough bark as her eyes met his outside of a pale face. "You move unlike any of the race of Men that I have ever seen," he continued, his eyes never once leaving her face as it slowly relaxed, apparently finding comfort in the security of the rough bark, a small smirk lifting her lips.

"Well that's because I'm not a man," Buffy returned as she shifted on the branch that didn't seem nearly as thick or sturdy once she was perched upon the limb, so far above the leaf-strewn ground below. Grimacing as her eyes swept down the distance, she couldn't help but think that next time she was sticking to the ground. Trees were for monkeys... and creatures like the one that was suddenly staring at her as though he didn't know quite what to think.

"You are not-"

"A man? Nope. I'm a woman," Buffy corrected as she flashed a brief smile at the slender creature, only to jerk back against the tree's base as his dark-haired companion flitted effortlessly onto the branch beside her from the ground so far below. "How did you-" she began, her wide eyes darting between the two creatures as the third, and more grim-looking of the three, seemed to fall from the tree above to land effortlessly on a slender branch a few feet away - a branch that didn't look sturdy enough to hold a squirrel, let alone the weight of the tall being that it supported.

"I counted at least thirty strong," Thoron reported, his low voice pitched in bitter disgust as he nodded towards the West, the setting sun painting the forest a glorious spread of reds and yellows.

Frowning, Legolas turned, his keen sight looking past the leafy fronds of the trees as his hands instinctively tightened upon the smooth wood of his long bow. "Apparently we were not the only ones to take note of the darkness," he stated, his eyes darting to his companions and silently relaying the fact that he meant far more than the waning daylight.

Sighing softly, Legolas purposely avoided the sharp, green gaze of the strange woman as he pondered the approaching enemies. A troop of thirty orc was a number that pushed the limits of what he and his two companions could comfortably handle, even when perched from the familiar heights of the trees of their homeland. And when added the fact that this stranger, the one who's appearance no doubt prompted the unexpected and unwanted arrival of the orcs... sighing softly, Legolas realized that there was really only one wise option. "Do not fire upon them unless our presence is compromised," he finally instructed, schooling his features to hide his dismay at the thought that they were forced to cower from the enemy in the woods of his birth.

"We're hiding?" Buffy returned before she could stop herself, as the eyes of all three of the creatures swung upon her. Yet whatever reply they were about to give was quickly pushed aside as the forest fell silent and as the very air seemed to darken around them. Confused, Buffy watched as the three creatures stiffened, their gazes returning to the forest floor that was bathed beneath the fractured light of the setting sun - and felt her breath catch in her throat as the first wave of twisted creatures clambered loudly over the leaf-strewn ground below.

Recoiling so hard that her back slammed against the rough bark of the tree that she was busy hanging onto for dear life, Buffy couldn't help the expression of disgust that twisted her lips as her eyes took in the dark beings below. The creatures walked like Quasimodo, with backs that looked bent and broken, their limbs black as though covered with oil, and their twisted lips pulled back into a snarl that was primal and ferocious. And while they weren't any more remarkable than some of the nastier demons that she had ever faced, Buffy couldn't help trying to draw back even further simply because of how wrong they felt. The creatures felt dirty somehow... almost polluted and... wrong. They felt like something that went against every natural law, and something which never should have been allowed to exist.

They felt corrupted.

"What are they?" Buffy whispered, her voice so low that even her sensitive hearing barely picked up her murmured words as she watched the creatures slowly pick their way through the beautiful trees, their snouts lifted to the air as they snuffled loudly and spoke to each other in a language that sounded as though someone was drawing nails over a chalkboard.

"Yrch," Mirdan replied softly, his fair features twisted in disgust.

"Orcs," Legolas clarified, his expression darkening as he cautiously lifted his bow and sighted the largest of the creatures along the shaft of his perfectly crafted arrow, the green fletching brushing against the high bones of his cheek. Silently, he sensed, more than saw his two companions draw back in similar defensive positions as the massive horde trampled the delicate green below. They were obviously searching for something as they picked through the leaves and broke low-hanging branches from the trees, calling to one another as they passed beneath their watchful post. Yet when the largest of the creatures lifted his nose towards the trees, Legolas knew that the foul beast had found his quarry as his eyes pierced the leafy canopy to rest upon their silent forms. For a moment, time froze as the creature somehow sensed Legolas' gaze and turned his dark eyes towards the prince - and remained locked there as the arrow cut through the air with a sharp whistle before becoming buried in the orc's open mouth and piercing the back of his throat in a gruesome spray of black blood.

Wincing, Buffy jerked as the orc gurgled noisily for a moment, his hands pawing uselessly at the feathered tip of the arrow that protruded from his mouth, before tumbling to the ground in a wide splay of dead limbs. Eyes drawn wide, she slowly turned back towards the golden-haired creature as he pulled another arrow from his quiver and sighted another target - and then began to loosen arrow after arrow with a deadly accuracy upon the mass of dark creatures, almost quicker than even her eye could follow as the group below erupted into chaos.

Periannath: Sindarin name for Hobbits