Equinoxium: Chapter 5
by Lisette

Legalese: See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

"Stay here," Mirdan called out to Buffy, temporarily drawing her attention away from the hail of arrows that rained down upon the orcs from Legolas' and Thoron's bows. "Stay here and try not to draw attention to yourself," he urged before disappearing higher into the tree and its neighbors to unleash his own onslaught upon the enemy.

"Stay here?" Buffy returned incredulously, a small frown pulling at her lips. She was the Slayer - the girl who had spent the past seven years fighting the darkness and always coming out on top... or, at least usually coming out on top. For some reason, dying in the fight against Glory didn't really feel like a monumental success at the moment. Nor did having her ass kicked by Willow the year before, or dying at the Master's hand or sending Angel to Hell. But the point was, she was the one who did the fighting and not the one who did the cowering.

That role was usually left to Andrew.

It didn't matter that this wasn't her world, nor did it matter that, while these orcs were decidedly ugly and evil, they weren't her demons. It didn't even matter that she was without a weapon and that when she took a moment to admire the scenery, the show really wasn't that bad, either. None of it changed the fact that this was what she had been born to do. And he wanted her to hide in a tree?

Shaking her head, Buffy watched as the ugly back creatures seemed to multiply like cockroaches, scattering beneath the rain of elegant, beautifully crafted arrows as they began to return fire with black, stubbly shafts from their own crude bows. Arrows that seemed to fly pretty accurately, despite their ugliness, as evidenced by the arrow that became lodged in the tree beside her head.

"Oh yeah, stay still and be a better target," Buffy grumbled as she tentatively began to step from branch to branch around the wide trunk of the tree that she was perched in, wincing at every loud groan and creak of the branches as they shifted beneath her booted feet.

"Sorry, sorry," she muttered as one of the limbs broke beneath her questing weight, echoing with a sharp crack before tumbling free and crashing noisily to the ground below. Scowling, she skipped that bad step and circled some more - only to find herself back where she had started. And while the helplessness in the high tree would have been bad enough by itself, her disposition wasn't improved when she caught sight of the three beings that dodged from branch to branch, tree to tree above her with an ease that only caused her glower to deepen. They seemed born to be in the trees, and at times, it was almost as though the thin branches moved themselves to accommodate each of the lithe being's impossibly light steps.

"What, are they made of feathers?" she muttered absently as she watched the dark-haired one, the one that had cautioned her to stay hidden, flit from branch to branch like some kind of tree... thing. Scowling as another arrow narrowly missed her shoulder, Buffy felt her patience snap as she threw a quick scowl at the creatures that were too busy flitting around her to notice her growing ire. Not that it mattered.

Instead, Buffy turned her gaze to the trampled forest floor below - and grinned as she took in the clear, leaf-padded patch directly below her. "Bombs away," she murmured, a wry smile lifting her lips as she stepped away from the tree and balanced precariously on the wobbly branch. For the briefest of moments she stood there, her eyes sweeping over the mass of black bodies that writhed and stampeded below her - and then stepped forward and allowed gravity to do its work.

Invisible fingers pulling at her long leather coat and tearing strands of blonde from her simple twist, Buffy plummeted from the high branch and landed in a crouch on the soft ground below. Eyes glittering as a familiar rush filled her senses, she watched as a few of the dark creatures nearest to her location started at her presence before forgoing their ugly bows in favor of curved, ratcheted swords that they drew from mottled scabbards that they wore along their backs. "Now this is what I'm talking about," Buffy murmured as she slowly straightened, her hands twitching as she truly felt like herself for the first time since being thrust into this world. She was the slayer and this was what she was born to do.

Grinning, Buffy ducked beneath the wild swing of an over-anxious orc and followed with an elbow to his sternum that echoed with the sound of breaking bone. Twirling, she then swept beneath the arm of another as she wrapped her small hands around its bony wrist and forced its hand to drive its own sword into its gut. As a wave of hot, putrid breath rushed past her face, she felt her stomach turn as she stumbled back, the heel of her foot brushing against the wide trunk of the tree behind her.

"Okay, that's disgusting," Buffy stated as she side-stepped another clumsy rush, her hands wrapping around the creature's weapon and pulling it free as her foot connected with the back of its neck in a blow that once more echoed with splintering bone. "Don't you guys believe in personal hygiene or good dentistry?" she asked as she brandished the sword to the rapidly growing arc of orcs that leered and jostled each other, displaying mouths of crooked, blackened teeth. "I'll take that as a no," she muttered as she settled into a low, defensive crouch, the sword held ready before her - and then froze as the rain of arrows became redirected into the group that was gathering around her.

"Hey, those are my bad guys!" Buffy protested as she arched her neck to glare into the tree above her, unable to immediately pick out her unwanted helper from the leafy branches. "And what's with the supply of arrows that never ends? Not only are they part feather-monkey, but they also have limitless arrows," she grumbled before quickly turning back to her rapidly dwindling circle of opponents - and froze as a golden blur fell from the tree above to land effortlessly before her.

"No, our supply of arrows is not without limit," Legolas stated as he arched a fine brow at the small woman before turning towards the broken bodies of the orcs that she had killed, his expression unreadable.

"Duly noted," Buffy returned dryly as he slid two gleaming, bone-handed daggers from behind his back and brandished them at the orcs that remained - the remainder of her orcs, no less. Scowling, she couldn't help looking enviously at the beautiful weapons before glowering at her rather scarred, black and goopy sword. This was turning out to be her day less and less... hell, it hadn't been her day in over two years, perhaps longer. Yet that line of thinking did little to ease the number of uglies that surrounded her, and instead only reminded her of the pain that the fight was just barely keeping at bay. There were no Scoobies to back her here. No Spike with his dry wit, no Xander with his cutting sarcasm, and no Willow with her gentle words and Giles with his... Giles.

Breath hitching in her throat, Buffy pushed the memories away as she purposely left her companion's side and swung in a low arc at the closest orc, her smile becoming feral as she twisted and parried, the dark metal becoming painted with black blood as she tore through her enemies. While she couldn't deal with her thoughts and memories, hordes of evil spawn were right up her alley. After all, this type of fighting called for constant movement - ducking, weaving, slicing, hewing, punching, kicking - any move to keep the sharp bite of the approaching sword at bay. It called for tactical thinking and keeping every sense, thought, and emotion in tight check as she spun through the trees, the dark creatures falling before her powerful strokes. It was a dance that was primal and dark, yet beautiful and ethereal - and yet it was a dance that seemed like a mockery of the one that her tall, blond companion performed as he twirled gracefully alongside of her. No, if she was a dancer, then he was the master performer as his lithe body bent and twisted with a grace and speed that went beyond anything she had ever before seen. His twin blades caught the fractured light of the setting sun and dazzled her eyes as it blinded his opponents, his blades never resting nor slowing as they effortlessly sliced through the helm of one creature, and beheaded the next with a blinding precision that left her breathless.... or perhaps that was just the stench of the creatures, filling her nostrils and causing her stomach to violently protest each and every breath she took.

Grimacing as her sword sliced through an artery and sprayed the forest floor with black blood, Buffy quickly darted back, only to have her shoulder slam against someone behind her. Twisting, she ducked low to avoid the swipe of her opponent's blade and drove her sword up and forward - and somehow managed to stay her blade moments before it impaled the beautiful, dark-haired creature before her. Frozen, she panted for breath, her hand quivering slightly as her green eyes met and held the tall being's dark eyes - and felt herself begin to drown in the ageless depth. If the blond's stare had been weighty, this one was incomprehensible. It was depth, wisdom, and experience of ages past - so many ages that she felt her knees beginning to shake beneath the implications. His eyes held the weight of ages unnumbered, and for the first time, the horrors of the past seven years - seven years that had aged her beyond her relatively young twenty-two years - suddenly seemed... inconsequential.

Frowning, Buffy felt the spell broken as that single thought echoed in her mind.

Inconsequential.

While she had the feeling that the deceptively young creature before her had seen many more years than she could even begin to imagine, that didn't make her short life any less important - any less meaningful. Those seven years had seen the rise of the slayer within her. Those seven years had seen her victories and they had seen her defeats. Those seven years had seen love won and they had seen that love lost and squandered. Those seven years had seen her death, and in a way, they had also seen her rebirth. Those seven years had played witness to her many mistakes... and yet they had also seen everything that she had done right. In those seven years she had died at the hands of the Master, she had loved Angel and then sent him to Hell, she had seen the deaths of Kendra and Miss Calendar, and the betrayal of Faith. In those seven years she had been gifted with a sister and buried her mother... she had died. And in those seven years she had been brought back, had fallen from grace and had lost Tara, and almost Willow as well, had seen Spike's soul restored to him and... and she had said goodbye to her friends and family for the final time. In the end, while she somehow knew that seven years were nothing to this creature, to her, they were everything.

"My Lord, they call a retreat," Mirdan called out as he dispatched his final enemy. "We must leave before they come back with... more," he trailed off as he turned towards his lord - and frowned as his eyes fell upon the sight of the young maiden's silent battle with Thoron, her sword tip poised above his heart. "Legolas," he murmured, his frown deepening as he looked to his prince and gestured towards the two.

Following Mirdan's nod, Legolas turned and immediately froze upon seeing his father's advisor and the young woman, poised and seemingly oblivious to the world around them. Frowning, he slowly moved on silent feet until he was a hair's breath beside them, expression guarded as he saw the girl's eyes flicker once before her hand began to relax on the pommel of her borrowed sword. "Thoron," he stated, his eyes darting briefly to the older elf as the sword was slowly lowered, the girl turning and looking distractedly at the blood-stained ground beneath her.

"My Lord?" Thoron returned as though nothing had been amiss, and as though his immortal life had not just been spared, his face impassive as he slowly turned to acknowledge his prince.

"Mirdan is right. We must leave this place at once," Legolas stated, his eyes never quite leaving the young woman as she slowly turned away and began to wander amongst the corpses that littered the once-beautiful forest floor. Now, the forest's beauty was marred and hidden beneath pools of dark blood, mangled corpses strewn amongst the tall trees. Slowly, almost absently she stilled beside one orc, its face twisted and hideous in death, before slowly crouching beside it, her green eyes dispassionately tracing over its features as she propped her blade against a nearby tree. Leaning forward, she reached as though to touch its still face before slowly pulling back her hand, her features twisting in disgust as she stood and continued her random perusals.

"I have the horses," Mirdan called out as he led the three elven steeds through the massacre, his soft words soothing the riled beasts as Thoron moved beside him.

Nodding distractedly, Legolas turned away from his companions and looked once more to the young woman, watching as she abandoned her ratcheted sword in favor of the weapon of another dead orc. This sword was long and straight, beautiful in craftsmanship and design, and obviously the spoils of an earlier battle - Rohirrim in design, if he wasn't mistaken. Briefly admiring the weapon that seemed impossibly large in her small hands, he watched as she slowly swung the sword from side to side, her wrist rotating the blade with an expert precision before nodding her approval as she then began to work the sword's sheath from the dead orc's frame.

The lady was a strange puzzle, and one that his mind had been turning over in his mind ever since he first laid eyes upon her. While he had admittedly little in the way of experience with the race of Men, outside of his friends, he thought that she seemed rather small and delicate-looking for a young woman of her years - and yet she handled the blade with far more ease and experience than even owyn when he had first met the shield-maiden almost twelve years ago, when the stoic woman had looked only a few years older then the lady that walked casually amongst the battle-slain. She was an enigma of evident power and grace, possessing skills and abilities that he had never before seen in those of the race of Man - and yet she carried a wisdom and the evidence of a long, hard experience in her shadowed green eyes.

"Bring it down, Legolas," Aragorn whispered as his friend turned towards him, his gray eyes as flat as steel. "Kill it!" he hissed as Legolas once more went for his weapons, his lean hands sliding around the comforting weight of his long bow.

With ease borne from over five centuries of experience, he quickly fit the thin shaft of an arrow to the bow string and pulled it taut against his cheek, his eyes never straying from the cloaked figure. Then, with his next exhalation, a moment that stretched for an eternity, he released his hold and watched as his arrow flew true as it soared across the vast fields and imbedded itself in the creature's back, directly over its heart. Yet with that single strike, the unmistakable sound of a woman's voice cried out in agony as the figure stumbled in pain, the hood finally falling to the side to free a torrent of long, blonde hair that pooled around her shoulders as she slumped lifelessly to the ground.

Gasping his dismay, his bow fell from numb fingers as a lake of crimson spread from the fallen form to wash over his feet in a small wave, soaking through his leggings and drenching his skin with the warm, sticky fluid. Shaking his head, he took a tentative step forward, his heart hammering in his chest as for an ageless moment, he realized the horror of what he had done - a moment that was shattered by the cheers of his allies, the dismayed shrieks of his enemies, and the bright, blasting light of the sun as it shunned the moon and rocketed into the sky above him, bathing their world with blessed light and fully illuminating the lake that spread before him... the lake of blood.

"My Lord, we must go," Thoron stated, his deep voice pulling Legolas from the haunting memory of the dream that had plagued his mind for so many restless nights. "They will come back," his pseudo-bodyguard pointed out, casually borrowing Legolas' words as he placed those arrows that he had managed to salvage into his prince's hands.

Sighing, the archer slowly pushed his troubled thoughts away as he nodded his agreement, his eyes idly inspecting the stained shafts before he returned them to his quiver, while stowing the pieces from those that had been ruined in a pouch at his belt to be reused later. "Aye, you are right," Legolas agreed as he finally turned towards his father's most trusted advisor. "And we are taking her with us," he added, almost as an afterthought as he started towards his horse.

"What?" Thoron gasped, his normally stoic features twisting in surprised dismay as he hurried after his liege. "Nay, my Lord, you cannot be serious!" he protested as he gently grasped his prince's arm and turned the younger elf towards him, a move that surprised them both as Legolas looked to the advisor with questioning eyes. "She is not of our kind," he stated as he turned and looked to where the young woman was slowly straightening from her crouched position, her piercing green eyes narrowed upon them. "She is not our concern," he added as he scowled at the girl.

"You know, I'm not deaf over here," Buffy called out as she glared at the dark-haired creature in evident annoyance.

Frowning, Thoron resisted the urge to say something unbecoming to the young woman. "If we must bring her anywhere, then it should be to Lake Town," he stated, lowering his voice so that only the Elvish hearing of his lord and their companion could hear his muttered words. "They will-"

"Yeah, I can still hear you," Buffy stated, once more interrupting the dark-haired creature as she hopped over a very large and very dead orc, and stalked towards the three creatures. After all, thanks to her slayer-enhanced hearing, it wasn't as though they were really going to be having a conversation that she couldn't hear no matter how much they lowered their voices, and if they were going to be deciding what to do with her, it only stood to reason that she should be a part of the conversation. She was the Slayer, after all - the Chosen One, and not a bit of extra baggage to be left at any convenient location.

Stunned, Thoron openly gaped at the young woman as she joined their small circle. "How can you-"

"Okay," Buffy broke in, pointedly ignoring the most solemn of the three - the one that she had nearly impaled a few minutes before - and quickly turned her attention to the blond and the other one with dark hair, "what's the deal with this Lake place that your friend wants to drop me at?"

"Lake Town," Legolas corrected as he forced down a puzzled smile at the girl's strange wording, and more importantly, at how flustered the normally-stoic elf beside him was quickly becoming. It had been close to a century since he had last seen his father's advisor so riled - and that was only because of the strange group of dwarves and their single hobbit companion that had interrupted the summer feast that he had been attending. Eyes sparkling, Legolas purposely avoided Thoron's glare as he turned back to the young woman. "It is the nearest gathering of the Edain," he added by way of explanation.

"The race of Men," Mirdan clarified with a small, tentative smile.

"Your kind," Thoron added with a dismissive snort.

"My kind, your kind," Buffy returned with an airy wave before frowning thoughtfully at the trio. "And which kind were you again?" she asked as she pointedly looked at their tall, unearthly beautiful frames and the delicately pointed tips of their ears that were visible through their long tresses.

"We are of the Eldar, the Firstborn," Legolas offered, a small smile pulling at his lips as he crossed his right arm over his chest, his hand fisted above his heart as he bowed slightly before her. "I am Legolas of the Woodland Realm-"

"Prince Legolas, son of King Thranduil and Lord of Ithilien," Thoron cut in as he arched a fine, dark brow at the girl.

Sighing, Legolas frowned pointedly at his advisor as he waved his hand in his direction. "And this is Thoron, son of Erestion."

"I am Mirdan, son of Derinias," Mirdan added as he mimicked Legolas' bow, his smile growing even wider. "Mae govannen."

"Right, my governor, right back at ya," Buffy returned, her frown deepening as the creature straightened to his full, towering height. "So... Eldar?" she continued, all the while wishing that Giles or Willow were with her - or even Dawn. They were all so much better with this kind of stuff. She was always more of a kill-kill type of girl and not so much with the brainy.

"Elves," Legolas supplied helpfully with a grin that Gimli would no doubt classify as extremely irritating.

"Oh," Buffy returned, her expression becoming blank as she looked from one of the tall creatures to the next. "Elves... like Santa's Little Helpers... only not so little," she clarified as she craned her neck to meet the elf's bemused gaze. "Plus, I don't really think that Santa would approve of the whole slaughtering of the..." she trailed off as she turned and gestured towards the bodies that were littered around them, having already forgotten the ugly beasts' name.

"Orcs," Mirdan stated, his features twisting in disgust and his earlier mirth forgotten as he was reminded of the foul beasts that polluted the once-beautiful wood.

"Right," Buffy stated, nodding slightly as she recalled the strange name for the ugly demons. "And... whose kind are these again?" she asked, pointedly looking from one decapitated creature to another.

"They are no one's kind," Thoron cut in, his eyes becoming two points of brown steel as he surveyed the mess that stained the forest and disrupted its natural harmony. "They are an abomination."

"But an evil abomination, right?" Buffy cut in hopefully as she turned back to her companions, her eyes practically dancing as she began to get a sense as to why she had been sent here. After all, what better use for a slayer than to slay evil, nasty things?

"Yes, quite evil," Legolas affirmed as he looked to his companions in confusion.

"And does this Lake Town place have an abundance of these evil abominations? Are they overrun with badness?" Buffy continued as she began strapping the sheath for her new sword over her long, leather jacket, her smile becoming more natural as some of her confusion began to fade away - until it was all brought back with Legolas' next words.

"Of course not," he stated, his eyes narrowing at the implied insult. "Lake Town is a part of the Reunified Lands beneath King Elessar's rule. Darkness no longer holds sway over any of our lands."

"For the most part," Mirdan amended with a soft sigh as he glanced upon the lands of their birth.

Frowning, Buffy followed Mirdan's gaze as she slowly stepped away from the others, her feet absently carrying her to the side of one of the orcs that had a green fletched arrow protruding from its heart. Sighing, she slowly knelt until she was crouched beside it, her eyes pointedly trailing from its hideous face to the broken arrow that had ended its life - the broken arrow that carried the same fletching that adorned the arrows that were held in the quiver at Legolas' back. "Right - and if you guys are lacking in the darkness department, what's the deal with these guys? Because they certainly don't seem all puppies and daisies to me," she pointed out as she leveled her gaze upon the three elves.

Inclining his head slightly to the side, Legolas slowly moved until he was kneeling opposite of the young woman, the dead orc sprawled between them. She was as an open book to him, her young age marking her features as her every emotion pulled at her lips and creased her brow as she flitted between despair, anger, confusion, and an overwhelming sadness that weighed down her small shoulders. One moment she would seem so young and lost, while in another something else would pass through her eyes and suddenly he felt as though he were looking upon a woman much older than her deceptively young countenance. In those moments, he felt as though he were looking upon the young ranger who had been destined to become King - a man who showed a youth that belied his mortal bearings, and yet whom carried a weight so grave and heavy that it darkened his gray eyes with a deep sadness that was never fully lifted. Frowning, Legolas watched as her green eyes briefly met his before she quickly turned away and looked pointedly at the creature, as though reminding him of her question. "They are a leftover breed," he stated, his voice soft as he forced his eyes to fall upon the creature whose life he had ended without thought or pause. "They are leaderless now, and hunted throughout our world."

Sighing, Buffy felt her earlier purpose drift away as though smoke on a fierce wind. "I'm getting a headache," she grumbled as she turned in a small circle away from the dead orc, her wide green eyes flitting past the carnage and taking in the strange woods that surrounded them. And in that moment, Buffy felt alone. Utterly, and truly alone.

Curtly shaking his head, Thoron pointedly turned from the young woman and accepted his horse from Mirdan's hands. "We cannot stay here," he reminded his companions as he leapt gracefully onto the animal's lean back.

Rolling her eyes at the prissy elf, Buffy finally drew her eyes from the desolate wood and watched as Mirdan mounted his horse, and then turned to see Legolas standing patiently beside his, his blue eyes locked upon her. "What?" she asked, her tone sharper than she had intended as she crossed her arms across her chest. Then again, with everything that she had gone through today, she figured that she was entitled to a bit of moodiness - probably even deserving of it.

Nonplussed by her curt question, Legolas merely tilted his head to the side in a way that reminded her less of a monkey, and more of a bird - which still explained a lot about their earlier battle. Eyes narrowing thoughtfully, she was about to question him on that very subject when he interrupted her musings with a brief nod in Prissy Elf's direction.

"Thoron is correct," Legolas stated as he acknowledged the elder elf. "While peace now reigns in these lands, there are still many foul creatures about. And while it pains me to admit, Mirkwood is no longer a place of Elves - yet neither is it a place of Men. We must leave these parts at once, and as I see it, you have nowhere else to go," he continued as he locked gazes with the young woman. "We travel south towards our home in Ithilien, and while the rest of my party continues to our colony, I would bring you to Minas Tirith in the heart of Gondor. King Elessar is the ruler of all Men in these lands and he will decide what, if anything, can be done for you."

Frowning, Buffy shifted uncertainly as she glanced from the elf's passive face, and into the equally passive and outright scowling faces of the others. "I can take care of myself," she pointed out, her words soft as she frantically tried to decide what she should do. She was as far from home as she could possibly get, and this time, there was no going back - at least not if she didn't want to give the First Evil another chance to make a go at ending the Slayer line, and quite possibly, the world. In other words, she was stuck in a place that she didn't know, completely and utterly alone... and yet Whistler had said that she was needed here. This world was out of Balance, even if these three didn't realize it, and if they needed a Slayer, that meant that something bad was heading their way that these Elves knew nothing about.

"We will not force you to accompany us," Legolas stated, breaking into her thoughts as he nodded to the darkening forest around her. "You may remain here, if you would prefer."

Sighing, Buffy took in the decidedly empty, gloomy, and slightly frightening forest as she wrapped her arms even tighter around herself. It wasn't that she was afraid of the dark - after all, she had been thriving in dark, creepy graveyards for the past seven years. But she was from Southern California and wasn't used to the thick woods that she had somehow landed in... or maybe 'appear' would be the better word - the entire process of switching worlds was still a little hazy, what with the agonizing pain.

Regardless, the point was that while California was certainly not lacking in the tree department, she had grown up in the heart of Los Angeles. Before becoming the slayer, she was a true California girl, brought up in the mall-crazed 80s and 90s. She had never really been the kind of girl that one would take hiking or camping... or really that one would take outdoors to do anything.

And here she was.

In a forest.

Full of ugly dark orc-things that wanted to kill her and anything else of the good.

Sighing, Buffy turned away from the darkening forest and hesitantly moved beside the tall elf, her eyes critically taking in the blindingly white horse whose back stood a head or two above her own. Frowning, she watched as the horse turned its large head, big doe-brown eyes flickering over her petite frame before turning to its master, as though to ask if he was really being serious. A question that she was beginning to wonder herself as she noticed one big problem with the entire scenario. "Okay, while I'm no expert, I'm pretty sure that there's supposed to be a saddle involved in all of this," she stated as she hesitantly patted her hand on the horse's bare back. "Besides, I'm from California, not Texas. I don't know how to drive this thing - I don't even have my driver's license yet," she added as she frowned at the large horse.

"You do not know how to ride a horse?" Legolas returned, arching his brow quizzically at the young woman. "Surely you do not travel solely on foot in your Kal-ee-for-nee-ah?" he asked as he gently ran his hand over Sador's gleaming coat.

"Nope, I've got better. It's called a Xander," Buffy stated as she gingerly mimicked Legolas' gentle caress on the large beast.

Frowning, the archer tilted his head to the side as he eyed the young woman, and then glanced questioningly to his companions who merely shrugged in return. "Well, you need not worry," he stated as he gently steered her away from the horse, and then lightly vaulted onto Sador's curved back. "You may ride behind me and allow Sador to do all of the work," he explained as he fondly ran a hand through the horse's white mane. Smiling, he then leaned down and extended a pale hand towards her.

Sighing, the petite slayer looked once more at the dark wood before resolutely stepping forward and placing her hand in his - and yelped as he half-swung/half-lifted her onto the horse behind him. Startled, Buffy instinctively wrapped her arms around his slender waist as the horse shifted beneath her, the bones of the animal's hindquarters digging through her leather pants and pressing against the soft flesh hidden beneath. "Ooh, I just know this is going to hurt tomorrow," she muttered as the horse smoothly broke into a gentle canter, his eyes piercing the lengthening shadows as the other two elven steeds fell into step behind him.

Smiling softly, Legolas couldn't help but be reminded of the similar complaints from Gimli during their many travels. The gruff dwarf was the only other person that he had carried behind him in his many long years. Though he was sure that Sador wouldn't be too disgruntled about this additional passenger. After all, the young woman was bound to be far lighter than his dwarven companion.

Frowning, Legolas used his knees to guide Sador through the darkening woods as he turned his head to the side. "By the way, my Lady - do you have a name?" he asked, as he realized for the first time that while they had all given theirs, she had yet to give her own.

"Buffy," the slayer stated absently as she wiggled slightly behind the tall elf, desperately searching for a position that wouldn't dig into her thighs quite so much.

"Buff-e?" Legolas returned, the name tumbling from his lips as he tried out the strange syllables. "Buffy. Such an odd name," he mused as she finally settled against him, her hands loosening as she either found a comfortable position, or else abandoned the hunt as fruitless.

Snorting softly, Buffy rolled her eyes at the elf's soft words. "Yeah, like you're one to talk," she muttered as she allowed the buzz of the insects to fully herald in the coming night.

Mae govannen: Well met