Equinoxium: Chapter 6
by Lisette
Legalese: See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.
Sighing listlessly, Buffy allowed the horse's gentle movements to lull her thoughts into a blessed, numb silence. Too much had happened in far too short of a time and whenever an inkling of a thought or a memory of everything that had happened... of everything that she had lost... whenever something even came close to surfacing through the numbness that had settled over her weary frame, she found herself desperately turning towards the soft, murmured conversations of the elves with which she traveled. Occasionally they would speak in their beautiful, musical language, and other times, in an obvious attempt to draw her out, they would speak in English - or the Common Tongue, as Legolas continued to insist. Regardless, the small slayer found herself locked in her own small world as she desperately tried to forget everything around her - including herself.
Yet it was a fruitless task, as even with her thoughts pushing down upon her small shoulders, her slayer sense refused to stay quiet. Instead, she found herself automatically cataloging every strange sound that broke the quiet night - some that she could identify, and others which caused her skin to crawl and the fine hairs on the back of her neck to tingle. Some, she was sure, could be attributed to the normal night sounds of a forest such as the one she found herself in, yet others... other noises signified, to her at least, that there was something else out there. Something that was watching them.. following them... something that was-
"You do realize that we're being watched, don't you?" Buffy demanded, her soft voice shattering the night quiet. Frowning as the three elves fell silent, she loosened her hold on the blond elf and turned slightly on the massive white horse, her green eyes piercing the darkness that was somehow lightened by... by the glow that was emanating from each of the three beings. "And that you're glowing," Buffy added, slight lines creasing her forehead as she realized for the first time that it was the apparently natural glow of the three ethereal beings that was keeping the absolute darkness at bay. Frowning, she added eel to the mix of monkey and bird, absently cataloging the strangeness of her companions.
"Yes to both questions," Legolas responded, a small smile lifting his lips as the young woman finally broke her solemn silence, her fingers fidgeting absently with the embroidered material of his tunic. For the past few hours, he and Mirdan both had been trying their best to engage her in conversation, curiously trying to find out more about the mysterious young woman that had melted into their world only hours before - the one that dove into battle with a troop of orcs, and managed not only to hold her own with the enemy, but defeat many in the most colorful and gruesome of ways. Yet her monosyllabic answers had been vague and disinterested at best, and soon both had forgone their attempts as Thoron directed their words to talk of their route, plans for the colony of elves at Ithilien, and additional mundane topics until even that had died away as they allowed the forest's natural song to lift their hearts and soothe their spirits. "The light is a part of our nature - a reflection, of sorts, of our spirit," he explained as Mirdan angled his horse closer so that he could take part in the conversation - and as Thoron began to draw ahead with a disinterested sigh.
"And as for those that watch us," Mirdan added solemnly as he carefully eyed the young human, "there are many that watch our passage through the wood this night. From the trees to the birds and the night predators that stalk the dark skies... although I am surprised that you can feel their eyes upon us. Most mortals would not even notice their passing."
"Well I'm not most mortals," Buffy returned as she shrewdly glanced into the darkness that surrounded them. "Plus, for some reason I'm not thinking that it's the birds and the trees that I'm feeling here. It's... darker," she murmured as her head snapped to the left, her eyes tracking a thick, round shape before it disappeared into the high branches, the creaking of the aged wood echoing around them.
"Then you are able to sense spiders as well as orcs," Legolas surmised, his eyes briefly catching Mirdan's as the older, dark-haired elf watched the girl closely. She had been fidgeting on the horse for quite a while now, and Legolas had begun to wonder how long it would take her to speak of her unease.
Grimacing, Buffy tightened her hold on Legolas as her eyes darted around them, her mind trying to somehow relate the large, scurrying body to that of the spiders that she was accustomed to - and quickly decided that she preferred even Sunnydale's version of the spider to what was apparently tailing them. She was suddenly beginning to understand Mirdan's sudden bout of arachnophobia from earlier that evening. "Let's just say that everything and everyone feels a bit different to me," Buffy murmured as the feeling of being watched began to lessen. "Tracking and killing things of the evil variety just happens to be my specialty," she added as she felt her body begin to relax, the adrenaline slowly seeping away as the threat faded from her mind.
Sighing softly, she ignored Mirdan's piercing glance and twisted around her tall companion, her eyes barely making out the glowing form of Thoron as he led the way through the dark woods. "Are you guys sure that he knows where he's going? 'Cause to be honest, this is all looking the same to me," Buffy stated as she slowly straightened, resigning herself to another interminable period of looking at Legolas' back. Not that it was a bad back. Actually, if it weren't for the gray cloak that trailed from his slender shoulders, she was pretty sure that he'd have a nice back.
"I think that Thoron would know the way even if he were blindfolded," Mirdan stated, oblivious to Buffy's increasingly random thoughts.
"And if not, Sador would never lead us astray," Legolas added as he fondly ran his long fingers through his mount's brilliant white mane. "Besides, it would be difficult to stray from the Forest Path even in the darkest of nights. It leads from my father's palace due West until it reaches the very borders of Mirkwood."
Slender brows arching skeptically, Buffy once more twisted around her tall companion as she eyed the ground, barely perceptible from the glow of the three elves with which she traveled. "This is a path?" she asked doubtfully as Legolas turned his head to quirk a brow at her disbelieving frown. "Where are the wood chips and the little arrow signs?"
Smile blossoming upon his lips, Legolas couldn't help but be reminded of stout Samwise Gamgee and his adamant insistence that his and Aragorn's idea of a shelter were quite different. Then again, that had been when the small hobbit had been young and innocent to the world, carrying no other desire than to serve his Master and friend, willing to follow Frodo into Mordor itself. In a way, they had all carried a relative innocence in those days - an innocence that had become shattered and broken upon the dark, stained rocks of Mordor.
Sighing softly, Legolas pushed his dark thoughts away and instead replayed Buffy's words once more, his quick mind rapidly pushing through the tangled weaves of her strange speak until he found the true meaning behind her innocent question. In the brief few hours since they had witnessed Buffy's arrival in Middle-earth, he had already become a master of picking past her odd wordings and questions. It was almost like a puzzle or a riddle, and if there was one thing that his kind enjoyed, it was games that teased the mind and tweaked the imagination. Smiling softly once more, he casually shrugged his shoulder as he turned slightly so that she could catch his soft words. "It is an Elvish path," he stated, as though that statement alone would explain everything.
Which of course explained nothing at all.
Rolling her eyes, Buffy settled back on the white steed, her hands once more playing with the soft material of Legolas' jerkin. "Cryptic much?" she muttered, feeling as though she had really been transported back to her first year in Sunnydale when each week it seemed as though Angel had appeared for the sole purpose of leaving her with yet another cryptic warning.
Angel.
Hand convulsively clutching at the soft material of Legolas' tunic, Buffy felt her breath catch in her throat at that single, startling thought. Head bowing until her forehead was pressed against the soft material of the elf's cloak, she quickly fought against the tears that were already burning the corners of her tightly clenched lids. How could she have possibly forgotten about Angel? Everything had happened so fast, and it had been so long since she had last spoken with the vampire, but to have left without giving a message for the others to pass onto him? She never had the chance to say goodbye... not the kind of goodbye that's supposed to last forever. And while she could always hope that someday, upon her death, she would return to a place where she would once more be with her friends and family, what guarantee was there that Angel would be allowed to join them in the rest that he so deserved?
Sniffling angrily, Buffy scoured at her tears as she ferociously shoved her thoughts away. She never cried - not anymore - and already she had broken down far too many times in the past few hours alone - so many that she was beginning to feel like a weepy, hormonally-challenged, pre-pubescent teenager. "So how long will we be following this 'path'?" she asked, her voice wavering as she resolutely strove to keep the silence at bay.
For a moment, Legolas merely shared a glance with Mirdan as Buffy once more managed to push away whatever pain had been eating at her. "Just until we make camp for the night," he returned, his hands once more working through Sador's gleaming mane. "Tomorrow morning we will then leave the path and make our way southwest through the trees of Mirkwood, skirting the north-western edge of Emyn-nu-Fuin, the Mountains of Mirkwood."
"Oh," Buffy muttered as she shifted restlessly. "And how long will that take?"
Softly sighing, Legolas was once more reminded of the hobbits as he praised the innate patience of his kind. "Pending no disruptions, we should reach the village of Rhosgobel, a settlement of Men, near sunset the day after tomorrow."
"Sunset the day after... two days?!?" Buffy demanded, her voice rising as her fingers viciously twisted the soft material she had been toying with, blanching at the idea of continuing this torturous method of transportation for another two days.
Lips curling into a small smile, Legolas continued to watch Thoron's progress before them as he casually continued. "Yes - and from there we will follow the bank of the mighty Anduin for two more days," he stated, casually noting the way Buffy began to lift each of her fingers from his jerkin in a silent count, "until we reach the borders of Lothlorien - a wood once filled with the voices of my kin - now silent and empty," he murmured, his expression momentarily growing wistful before brightening with the new game he had found. For while Buffy was certainly no Gimli, he was beginning to find her reactions just as comical. "We will then continue south for one more day and camp on the bank of the Anduin for the last time. The next morning we will then cross the Anduin and the River Limlight, at which point we will enter into Rohan, the home of the mighty Horse-Lords. We will continue south until we reach the base of the White Mountains and the Great West Road - five days later," he added, almost as an afterthought, "and will follow the road east towards Minas Tirith, where we will arrive four and half days later."
For a moment, Buffy allowed the silence to stretch as she hastily did the math - and then did it again, hoping that somehow she had miscounted somewhere... and slowly deciding that indeed, she hadn't. "So you're telling me that it's going to take us... it's going to take us over two weeks to reach this king of yours?" Buffy demanded as she realized that this little horse ride was never going to end.
"Precisely," Legolas affirmed with a small smile that Gimli would no doubt try and attribute to the smugness of the Firstborn.
Sighing, Buffy quickly released the elf's tunic as she pressed her fingers against her throbbing head. Two weeks. Two weeks of moving slower than she could run, of being bumped and jostled in places that weren't meant for that kind of abuse, and of being forced to spend each and every waking moment with three strangers. "Haven't you guys ever heard of a car? Or I guess a Hummer would be more fitting," she amended as she took in the bumpy terrain. "Or how about an airplane?" she asked as she glanced hopefully back and forth between the back of Legolas' golden head, and the smiling Mirdan who continued to ride abreast of them, when the 'path' permitted. Yet the question was rhetorical - a fact that both elves were apparently aware of, as neither offered an answer to her desperate questions. Sighing, Buffy glowered at the deep night and absently shifted on the horse that patiently bore her squirming weight. "Figures," she grumbled as she crossed her arms petulantly before her. "Not only do they drop me in a world without a shopping mall, but there are no planes, trains, or automobiles, either."
Finally sensing the opening that he had been patiently waiting for, Mirdan quickly moved his horse closer so that his legs bumped against those of his liege, Buffy's bright green eyes quickly turning questioningly towards him. "And where do you come from, Lady Buffy?"
"A place far, far away from here," Buffy sighed as she turned her eyes towards the dark Heavens. "And you can stop with the Lady stuff. It's just Buffy," she added as she frowned at the dark-haired elf.
"Yes, but how did you get here?" Mirdan persisted, a small frown pulling at his lips.
"Magic," Buffy returned, unconsciously falling into her monosyllabic responses in a tried hope that the elf would get the point and let the matter rest. It had been one hell of a day and she didn't feel like getting into the quantum physics of balancing Good and Evil and how one little resurrection could wreak havoc upon everything and everyone that she held dear - and then some.
"Obviously," Mirdan retorted, sniffing disdainfully at the implication that he couldn't recognize magic when he saw it. "And Dark Magic, as well," he added, absently thinking back to the way that the forest seemed to draw cold and silent as the dark words whispered through the trees around them.
Green eyes snapping at the dark-haired elf, Buffy bristled as she straightened her shoulders and unconsciously drew upon her rather unimpressively short stature. "That's not Willow's fault," she snapped, her eyes narrowing upon the dark-haired elf. "Well... not really," Buffy amended as, just like that, the anger was drained away as she once more sagged against the golden-haired elf before her.
"Willow?" Legolas murmured, feeling Buffy rest her cheek tiredly against his back, the warmth of her skin leaching through the soft folds of his cloak.
Sighing, Buffy wearily closed her eyes as she fought against the images of her friends. Willow, Xander, Dawn... Giles.... "It's a long story," she murmured as she opened her eyes to take in the dark forest that slowly passed them by, the shadows becoming fractured by the weak light of the elves. "Suffice it to say that while it may not have been the best or my preferred method of transportation, I have it on good authority that it was the only way to get me to where I needed to be. And that place is apparently right here."
"Yes, but why?" Legolas persisted as the images from his dream once more flickered on the edges of his vision. So much blood and darkness. So much evil... and somehow it was all connected to the young woman that rode behind him. The only thing that he didn't understand was the connection - and it was a connection that he knew that he had to find quickly, or else all of Middle-earth would suffer from his failure.
"I'll let you know when I figure it out myself," Buffy returned as she straightened, doing her best to keep her whirling emotions at bay. "Listen, can we just-"
"We should stop here for the night."
Surprised, Buffy looked up to see that Thoron had stopped before them, his horse's tail flickering in the dark night as the elf easily slid from his high seat. "Oh, thank God," Buffy muttered as she waited barely long enough for Legolas' horse to come to a stop before she was sliding from the great height, a small groan of pain falling from her lips as her legs nearly buckled beneath her weight. "Oooh - not good," she muttered as she tentatively rubbed at her aching inner thighs and massaged her butt that had gone numb hours ago. Wincing, she slowly began to pace back and forth, working to return the circulation to her aching limbs as the other three wordlessly separated, Thoron disappearing into the dark wood, their small clearing darkening by that fraction as his light drifted away, while Mirdan gathered the horses around him and as Legolas knelt on the soft earth and began playing with the leaves on the forest floor.
Frowning, Buffy watched the silent activity from her place in the shadows, her arms wrapped around her small waist. The three elves had obviously been traveling with one another for quite some time in order for them to so flawlessly form such a smooth routine. Mirdan, it seemed, would tend to the horses while Legolas... played in the dirt. Frowning, Buffy slowly stepped closer to the soft glow of the golden-haired elf, her eyes tracing his pale hands as he tenderly brushed the scattered leaves to reveal the barren earth below. While she could care less where Thoron had disappeared to, Legolas' graceful, tender movements of the brightly colored, brittle leaves captured Buffy's wandering attentions and drew her ever closer until she was kneeling opposite him, her head tilted to the side as she curiously watched his slow, practiced movements. "What are you doing?" she asked, her soft words muted, as though wary of breaking whatever spell his two, pale hands were creating.
For a moment, silence reigned as Legolas slowly lifted his eyes, blue meeting green as he seemed to look past all of her defenses and straight into her soul. "Preparing a site for the fire," Legolas returned, his words low and even as he casually turned to accept the scavenged wood that Thoron had silently returned with.
In that moment, Buffy felt the spell shatter as her face instantly began to burn. "Oh," the slayer muttered, feeling about as bright as a three year old as she stepped back a pace, trying her best to look less like the complete and utterly useless moron that she was beginning to feel like - a feeling that was foreign to her, and one that she decided that she didn't enjoy. She had been the slayer for seven years - a career that meant that she was always moving, always fighting, and always working to make things better for her world. She was the one who, if she didn't have all the answers, at least knew how to get those answers - whether it was through Giles, her friends, or by beating the answer out of a demon or two. She was the slayer and that meant something... or at least, it had always meant something before.
Frowning, Buffy watched as Legolas slowly coaxed the small flames until they were glowing brightly, suffusing the small clearing with their warm, golden light - a light that failed to spread to her place in the cold shadows. Soon all three were gathered around the fire, their postures relaxed as their beautiful voices lifted in muted words. They were beautiful in the warm firelight, the flickering flames playing on their high, sculpted cheekbones, their musical voices blending with the crackling of the burning wood and creating an enchanting cadence that somehow worked to ease her hurting heart. Within minutes, her usual place in the shadows lost its appeal as she found herself yearning for the warmth and the light that she had been denied for seven long years - and without consciously realizing what she was doing, Buffy soon found herself stepping before the fire as she settled between Mirdan and Legolas, purposefully ignoring Thoron's cold gaze from across the dancing flames.
"Lembas?" Mirdan offered as he gently pushed a small hunk of the Elvish fare into her small hands, followed by a pouch of wild berries. "It is an Elvish waybread - food," he added, laughing quietly as she suspiciously eyed the small portion.
"Waybread?" Buffy parroted as she broke off a small piece of the hard, yellowed bread - bread that reminded her a lot of the triangular scones that Giles had been so fond of - and tentatively sniffed the food.
"It is not poisonous," Legolas assured as he broke off a piece of his own dinner and toyed with the crumbling edges. "If anything, I have been told that the bread is quite filling and satisfying to the pallet of the Edain."
"Even if we have come to despise it on our long voyage," Mirdan added as he distastefully eyed his own portion of the typical traveling fare of the Firstborn. "My lord, how much longer did you say it would take us to reach Rhosgobel?" he asked, directing the question towards his liege as he watched Buffy slowly nibble on a small piece of the lembas that she held, a slow, startled smile lifting her lips. "Because," he continued, sighing dramatically, "I fear that I may not survive much longer if this be all that will sustain us through the coming days."
"I don't know what you're complaining about," Buffy stated as she broke off another piece of the bread and tossed it into her mouth, causing it to disappear nearly as fast as the first. Instantly her smile brightened as the sweet, honeyed taste teased her taste buds and sent a quiver of warmth through her cold limbs. "This is way better than scones," she continued as she added a few of the wild berries to the mix, a small, satisfied smile pulling at her lips. "Besides, you haven't known true horror until you've tried the Doublemeat Deluxe," she added as she accepted Legolas' small container of water to wash down the mix, finding her hunger unbelievably abated by the small portion of bread. And with the ease of her hunger, Buffy also found her entire body slowly beginning to relax as she greedily took in the fire's warmth, the flickering flames hypnotic as she felt all of her burdens slowly slide away leaving her with a blessed, empty sort of release.
Noting how the tension eased from the young woman's shoulders, Mirdan leaned back until he was propped against a nearby tree. "A double-meat-deluxe?" he returned, his dark brows quirked against fair skin. "Such an odd name - and it is food of which you speak?"
Snorting softly, Buffy slowly shook her head. "I think the jury's still out on that one," she muttered wryly as Legolas shifted beside her, his eyes cautiously meeting her own as he tilted his head to the side in that same bird-like manner that he had used earlier.
"Would you tell us a bit about this place from where you come? This Kal-ee-for-nee-ah?" he asked, instinctively knowing that it was this subject which caused the fine lines to crease her forehead and pull at her lips, aging her far beyond her years. Yet he couldn't ignore the fact she was not of their world, nor the method by which she was brought to them... nor could he ignore her ties to the dreams that had brought them to this meeting and the possible significance that it conveyed.
Frowning, Buffy lifted a single leaf, faded a deep red from the cooling nights and the coming winter, and slowly twirled it between her fingers. "What do you want to know?" she asked, unconsciously mimicking Legolas' cautious tone as she hesitantly lifted her eyes and looked at the golden haired elf - so solemn and serious in the bright firelight.
"Well if your attire is any indication," Mirdan added as his eyes danced curiously over the strange garments that adorned her small frame, "I would assume that it is quite different than what we are accustomed to."
Sighing, Buffy allowed the leaf to slip from her fingers and slowly return to its place with its fallen brethren. "You don't know the half of it," she murmured as she lifted her head, her eyes unconsciously tracing the dark eaves of the large trees that towered above them, shifting in the slow, cool night breeze.
"Yet there are no elven-kind in your world," Mirdan persisted, his eyes darting to his right to see that while refusing to participate, Thoron seemed to be following every word with rapt attention.
Frowning once more, Buffy curtly shook her head at the dark-haired elf. "Nope. We have your garden variety humans, witches, vampires, werewolves and various demons," she stated, nonchalantly ticking the creatures from each slender finger, "but aside from that, no other weird stuff."
Breath hissing between pursed lips, Legolas slowly shook his head. "There is much darkness in your world," he stated, his voice no more than a solemn whisper as Buffy once more casually shrugged at his words.
"I suppose," she admitted as she absently tossed a few acorns into the sputtering fire. "But not many people are aware of the darkness," she continued, her eyes locked within the flames. "Most humans... well, make that virtually all humans - or Men, as you guys seem to put it," the slayer amended with a wry smile, "have no idea that the other stuff is even out there. And even when they do see something strange, they tend to either rationalize it or forget they ever saw it. A defense mechanism or something."
"But not you," Legolas stated as the young woman's eyes slowly lifted from the flames to lock with his own - eyes that contained an age far beyond her young years.
"No, not me," Buffy agreed as she once more looked back to the small fire. "I had a rather rude awakening seven years ago and haven't been able to go back since... no matter how hard I tried," she murmured, her words falling softly before dying away as the memories once more tried to reclaim her.
"And are all of your kind like you?" Thoron asked, finally joining the conversation and unwittingly saving the small slayer from herself as Buffy gratefully pushed her troubling thoughts away.
"How do you mean?" she cautiously returned, suspiciously eyeing the extremely solemn and grim-looking elf.
"Are they able to do what you-"
"Not hardly," Buffy quickly broke in, snorting softly as she once more began to fiddle with the forest debris that was scattered around her. "No, I guess you could say that I'm just lucky like that... or cursed," she amended, a small frown pulling at her lips as she thought of all of the horrors that had been crammed into seven short years. "The verdict is still out on that one as well," she murmured, tiredly lifting a hand to massage her aching head as the thoughts and memories of her friends began to batter at her already weakened defenses. Gone was the satiated emptiness that had been brought on by the food and the fire, and in its place she felt everything beginning to seep back through the widening cracks of her mental and emotional barriers.
"Yes, but how did you come here?" Thoron persisted, unconsciously leaning forward as he pierced the girl with his sharp gaze. "How did you-"
"Does it matter?" Buffy cut in, her words sharper than she had intended as she quickly climbed to her feet and glared at the dark-haired elf. "I'm here now and there's nothing that anyone can do about it, alright?" she stated, her heated words like a slap against the faces of all three elves as she stepped back until all were included in her glare. But just as quickly as the anger had come upon her, it was gone even faster as Buffy felt her final line of defenses crash against the onslaught of everything that had happened. She just didn't have the strength to debate with the elves while trying to keep everything at bay... she didn't have the strength for any of it.
Feeling the tears burn in her eyes and hating herself for each and every drop that broke free, Buffy quickly turned on her heel and stalked into the dark shadows of the forested night, her hands slapping away branches as she hurried away from the warmth, the light, and the company that it provided. She felt like screaming, she felt like crying, and she felt like curling up into a little ball and praying for the world to melt away. Everything was building within her and she knew that there wasn't enough room and that if she didn't find a way out of this... this place, then she was going to explode and then there would be no going back.
Groaning, she ground the heel of one hand into her watering eyes until bright lights exploded behind her lids, forcing back her tears as her coat snagged on a resisting branch. Turning, she viciously yanked the material free and stumbled a few paces until her back slammed against the rough bark of a towering tree, the pain cutting through her emotions and giving her a center - a center to fight the agony that was ripping her heart into shreds. Twirling, her long jacket flaring around her slender hips, Buffy launched herself at the tree and began pummeling the unyielding bark with everything that she had, ignoring the sting as the rough wood sliced through her skin and bathed her hands with blood.
It wasn't enough. None of it was enough and soon Buffy found her energy spent as she turned and slid down the tree that had taken the brunt of a slayer's abuse. Hands cradled before her, she stared the bloodied digits in numb fascination as she shifted on the ground - and froze as something crackled at the movement. Burning eyes lowered with curiosity, Buffy absently patted at the pockets of her long jacket - and heard the crinkle once more - and yet found each of the lined openings empty. Frowning, she slowly pulled the jacket from her body and turned her eyes towards the interior lining - and found a hidden inner pocket. With bloody, trembling fingers she slowly felt within the small opening and withdrew a single, slightly crinkled object... a picture.
Instantly the tears that she had valiantly been attempting to hold at bay broke free in a fresh torrent as Buffy pressed one bloody hand against her lips to stifle the sobs. She knew this picture - how could she not? Kennedy had taken it only a few short weeks ago, and Dawn had framed it and placed it on the mantle the very next day. She had stared at it at least a few times each day during the following weeks, committing the picture to memory. It was her own personal portrait of what she fought for - what she sacrificed everything for.
It was her family.
Tears trailing down her cheeks, Buffy tenderly cupped the picture in one blood-stained hand, her eyes never once leaving the simple photograph. To her knowledge, it was the only one in existence. It was the only one, and somehow someone had known this and left her with this final reminder of all that she had lost... and all that she had forever left her home in order to save.
Sighing softly, Legolas watched Buffy's angry strides until even his eyes could no longer trace her path into the dark and silent woods about them. Instantly a deep, ill-tempered silence fell upon three elves as the prince allowed the full brunt of his Elven glare, a trademark of his father, to fall upon Thoron as he angrily crossed his arms about his chest. For a time unnumbered, they remained thus - eyes locked upon one another until even Legolas' patience ran thin. "Will you not let it rest?" he finally demanded as he arched an angry brow at the elder elf.
"We know nothing about this girl!" Thoron returned, refusing to be cowed before his lord's anger. After all, while Legolas had learned much from his father, his heart was far too gentle to ever truly harness the power of brow-beating one's subjects.
"Thoron is right," Mirdan offered, faltering as Legolas turned accusingly towards him, his mouth opening to unleash another scathing rebuke. "Look," he quickly cut in, holding his hands in a placating gesture before him, "all that we know is that something dark brought her to Mirkwood. Yet she knows something more that she is not saying. That much is obvious to all."
"Your father would-" Thoron began.
"My father is not here, nor will he ever be again," Legolas cut in, his eyes flashing. "He has forsaken this world, and unless you've decided to join him..." he continued, his angry words falling away beneath the weight of his own admission - beneath the weight of the frustration that had gone unspoken for so many months. His father was gone. His brothers were gone. His family was gone, and until he gave in to the Sea-Longing that forever pulled at his soul, he would never know peace nor his family again. He would never be whole.
Sighing softly, Legolas curtly shook his head as he forced his face into a neutral mask, his eyes becoming shuttered. "This conversation is over," he stated, his words allowing no room for argument as he stood and began feeding more wood into the fire. "We should set watches and get some rest if we want to make an early start tomorrow."
"I will take first watch," Mirdan offered quietly as he acceded to his lord's wishes and allowed the matter to drop. "The Lady may use my sleeping roll for the night," he added as he stood and began gathering his things.
"I will take the second," Thoron added as he, too, nodded towards his liege, his dark eyes softening as he looked at his young prince. "I will wake you when your watch has come," he offered as he turned towards his own belongings - and froze as he noted the young woman who stood silently behind him, her face pale and her eyes large and red, her hands hidden within the depths of her long coat.
"I can help," Buffy offered as she tentatively stepped closer to the light, her eyes darting nervously to the three elves - silently asking if she was still welcome amongst them after her rather embarrassing and very un-Buffy-like outburst.
For a moment, silence reigned as Legolas silently appraised the young woman, watching as she unconsciously began to fidget beneath the combined weight of their stares. Frowning, he watched as she lifted a hand to brush at an errant strand of hair, his eyes locking on the many scrapes and cuts that lined her small hand.
"I do not-" Thoron began, his eyes hard and unforgiving.
"The Firstborn require very little in the way of rest," Legolas broke in as he threw a pointed glare at the dark-haired elf. "We will see to the watches this night," he added as Mirdan beckoned her towards the sleeping roll that he had laid out beside the fire.
For a moment more, Buffy stood awkwardly on the brink between the shadows and the light, unconsciously teetering between the two worlds before her exhaustion finally won out. Nodding her thanks, Buffy slipped past Thoron and moved around the wide ring before slowly dropping onto the soft blankets beside the roaring fire. Her body aching, she drew a blanket over her small form as she curled into a ball, her hand pressed tightly over the pocket that held her most precious possession - and yet the sleep that she yearned for refused to come. Her body ached and her heart continued to hurt, despite the numbing bliss of her fractured thoughts - plus the branches that poked through the blankets and the hard ground were so very different...
And yet that was before Legolas began to hum. The melody was soft and soothing, the tones rich and clear. No words were spoken, and yet Buffy felt as though she was listening to a story - a story that told of peace and sadness, of long memories and eased burdens. It was a melody that spoke of rest and of soothing the weary heart, and within minutes, Buffy succumbed to the soft spell and drifted into sleep.