Equinoxium: Chapter 8
by Lisette
Legalese: See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.
Many more hours passed that day, once the river had been crossed, and as the afternoon darkened into twilight and the sky came ablaze with the fiery light of the coming night, the travelers once more called a halt as a new clearing was found in the dark, twisted heart of Mirkwood. Within minutes Mirdan had gathered the three horses to him as he whispered soft Elvish words to the beautiful steeds, his hands working the tangles from their manes as he saw to their needs. Thoron, meanwhile, once more disappeared into the darkening wood as he sought the fuel to that night's fire. Which, once more, left Legolas and Buffy huddled before the barren hearth that Legolas had created.
"So... what's Thoron's deal, anyway?" the petite slayer asked as she helped the elf to clear the leaves from the small circle that he had created.
"His... deal?" Legolas returned, his eyes seeking her gaze in the growing gloom. Ever since she had shared her foe-toe-graph by the river's edge, a sort of understanding seemed to have formed between them. Her eyes were unlike many of the edain that he had encountered in his many travels these past few years, shadowed and darkened with pain and loss as they were. Her shoulders were bent beneath a mighty weight - a weight that was reflected in the age of her green eyes - eyes that were so reminiscent of Aragorn that it served to soften the differences between them. They were strangers still, and yet they had somehow crossed that boundary as they sat by the river's edge. She knew of the loss that had defined him for so many ages - the loss that had made him the elf that he was today. In return, she had given him a glimpse into a world that he could not comprehend - a world that was brightened with love and shadowed with so much loss. While he didn't think that he would ever be able to claim that he could completely understand the darkness and the shadows that lined her gaze, he now felt that he had a better understanding... an understanding that could still be lost amongst the tangles of her odd words and phrasings. "I do not understand," Legolas admitted after a moment's pause as he tried and failed to somehow translate this new meaning.
"What's his problem? With me?" Buffy clarified as she turned her eyes away from Legolas' piercing gaze. "I mean, it's obvious that we have issues. I'm just not quite clear on the 'why' behind the moody elf fits," she admitted as she brushed her hands against the smooth leather of her pants, grimacing at the dirty stain of her tanned skin. What she wouldn't give for a shower... or even a body of un-enchanted water... or any water, really. The more time that she spent in the wilds, the more Buffy began to miss the small, creature comforts of home that she had always taken for granted. Like clean water to bathe the grime from one's body, for example.
Oblivious to Buffy's scattered thoughts, Legolas slowly turned his eyes away. "I see," he murmured, understanding enough of the strange phrasing to see the question that Buffy was really asking. However, the answer that she was seeking was not as simple as she might have thought. Frowning, he turned back to building the fire ring as he slowly shook his head. "It is nothing-"
"Personal. Yeah, I get that," Buffy cut in with an airy wave of her hand as she brushed his words away. "He's been this antisocial and anti-Buffy since I first got here, so it can't really be anything that I've said or done," she stated, rolling back until she was sitting on the leaf-blanketed ground, her knees drawn up beneath her chin as she watched the elf work. "Which begs the question - what's the what? What's really going on behind the pinched frown?"
Lips quirking at Buffy's rather... spirited description of his father's advisor, Legolas paused in his tasks as he fully turned towards the young woman that sat across the cleared earth from him. There were so many different answers that he could give her, from the inherent suspicious nature of the Mirkwood elves in general, to the more detailed views of many of his kin - especially when concerning those of mortal blood. Yet as his eyes held hers in an unblinking stare that was becoming more adept at holding the weighty gaze of the Firstborn, he began to realize that none of those explanations really did the older elf any justice at all. Thoron had walked the paths of this earth for thousands of years longer than he, had seen much in his immortal life, and Legolas himself was only privy to the smallest portion of that grand expanse of time.
"I do not believe that Thoron has had many positive experiences with Men in the past," Legolas finally explained as he drew his eyes away, a small frown pulling at his lips as he was once more reminded of his youth in comparison to all of his kin. "Actually, I do not believe that he has had much experience with Men at all since the Last Great Alliance."
"Oh," Buffy returned, frowning at the mention of yet another grand battle. From the sounds of it, the people in this world seemed to favor having at least one big blow out at the end of every age - which was generally every few thousand years. Then again, that seemed far more favorable to the yearly apocalyptic show-downs that she was accustomed to. Yet the part that gave her pause was that, according to Mirdan, she had missed the last great battle, the one known as the War of the Rings, by only nine years.
Nine years.
If they weren't due for another grand battle for another few thousand years, why was she even needed in Middle-earth? Why had the Powers That Be sent her packing to a forest in the middle of elf-land if the Big Bad had already been fought and destroyed nine years before her arrival? Did the all-knowing, higher powers screw up again? From the sounds of it, the Good Guys had won this battle - and if she wasn't needed for that, what was she needed for?
Groaning, Buffy felt another headache coming on as rested her forehead against her knees, a weary sigh escaping her lips. If she ever saw Whistler again, she vowed then and there that he wasn't going to walk away from the encounter. Not after all of this. Not after-
"I have released the horses to their own pursuits for the night," Mirdan stated, his clear voice cutting through Buffy's thoughts as he settled lightly beside his prince. "Sador, especially, seemed quite eager to run through the trees this night."
"As long as he does not overexert himself, I care not," Legolas countered as Thoron returned to the small clearing, an armful of dry, twisted kindling in his arms. "We have much ground to cover tomorrow before we come to Rhosgobel."
"Speaking of which," Buffy cut in as she accepted a small piece of lembas from Mirdan, "what's this Rose-Globe place like? You said that it was a town, right?"
"Rhosgobel is a settlement of Men, yes," Legolas agreed as he fed more of the dry timber into the greedy flames. "It was built around the site of what was once the home of Radagast the Brown," he added as Thoron settled lightly on the leaf-strewn ground on his other side. Already the sun was setting behind the twisted limbs of Mirkwood, casting the woods into a darkness that was deeper than the starlit night would usually warrant. Then again, they had traveled far that day and now rested just northwest of the far edge of the Mountains of Mirkwood - even if the branches of the ruined trees hid the craggy peaks from view.
"Rad-a-what?" Buffy returned, her forehead wrinkling as she fumbled over yet another strange word. "Come again," she requested as Thoron sighed audibly from the other side of the fire ring.
"Radagast the Brown," Mirdan supplied with an impish grin, his dark eyes glancing towards the older elf as the former advisor to the King began to mutter inaudibly beneath his breath. "A wizard," he clarified.
"You have wizards?" Buffy quickly asked as she absently juggled a few small berries. "Nifty! I always liked the movies, what with the cool flying brooms and the hot quidditch captain. Dawn, my sister, was all about Harry, but he's a bit young for my tastes, if you know what I mean," she stated as she popped the loose berries into her mouth, chewing the sweet fruits as her companions turned to each other in confusion, blank looks mirrored upon the three Elvish faces. "What? The Harry Potter craze hasn't hit Middle-earth yet?" she asked, smiling innocently around lips stained red from the juices of the small fruits.
A slow, quizzical smile pulling at his lips, Legolas slowly shook his head. Flying brooms indeed! Either her world was far stranger than she let on, or else she was telling tales that rivaled those of young Pippin and his cousin, Merry. "The Maiar, or the Istari, as they are known," Legolas continued smoothly, "are not of the race of Men - nor of any other race."
Rolling her eyes, Buffy waved away his words as she sniffed disdainfully at the implication. "Higher being. Got it," she stated, grimacing slightly as she was once more reminded of the Balance Demon who was so high on her Shit List - so high that even Ethan Rayne seemed pretty low in comparison. "So how many races do you guys have, anyway?" she continued as she curiously looked from one elf to the next. "I mean, I've seen the orc - got the shirt, or rather, the sword to prove it," she added as she patted the sheathed weapon that was laid out on the dirt beside her. "I've been hanging with the Elves, and from the sounds of it, you seem to have my people," Buffy continued as she slowly ticked the races from each slender finger. "And now we have Wizards... so what else you got?"
"The other two races that you are most likely to encounter are Dwarves and Hobbits," Legolas returned, a smile pulling at his lips as Thoron's grumblings immediately increased at the mention of the smaller races - particularly at the first.
"As in the Seven Dwarves?" Buffy asked, sitting a bit straighter as their words once more pulled her mind from her many worries and heartaches... from the memories. For a few minutes, every now and again, the conversations and the revelations were almost enough to make her forget that she had been dropped in this world like someone's useless baggage. For a moment, she could almost pretend that she was simply on an outing, away for a bit, and would return to her friends and family soon enough. It was a fantasy, and even though she knew this, Buffy clung to the peace that it allowed. Grinning, Buffy sat forward as her eyes began to sparkle with mirth. "Are they really short and like to mine?"
"Stunted would be more accurate," Thoron cut in with a disdainful sniff as he reached for his sword and began to polish the gleaming blade. "Always digging into the Earth and robbing her of her jewels."
"And you do realize where metal comes from, don't you?" Buffy returned as she pointedly looked towards the gleaming blade. "Because unless you really do have shopping malls, I'm guessing that someone had to go digging for it," she added as she smiled sweetly at the dark-haired elf. She knew that she was baiting him, but she couldn't seem to help herself. Usually such a role had always been left to Xander or Anya, but with Middle-earth significantly lacking in the Scooby department, Buffy figured that she had to accommodate the loss. Well, that and it was just too much fun watching Thoron's glower deepen until his eyebrows seemed to become one dark line on his fair face, his lips twisted into a scowl that even Angel would have been proud of.
"So you have dwarves in your world?" Legolas quickly asked, his soft question breaking the growing tension that had been building between the two since the moment that Buffy had arrived. Sooner or later, he was sure that Thoron and Buffy would have to exchange words and find some way to work past their evident animosity. Yet seeing as how the aggression stemmed from his father's former advisor, the prince knew that Mordor would have a better chance of freezing over then for Thoron to ever back down. "Buffy?" he continued, his voice pulling the young woman from her staring contest as she slowly turned to acknowledge his question.
"Only the kind found in fairy tales," Buffy returned as she sent one last glare at the glowering elf. "Our dwarves come in groups of seven and protect a naive Princess from her evil Step-Mother," she added, a smile once more lifting her lips as she thought back to the Disney movie that Dawn had forced them to watch over and over again when they were children. Well, at least if Dawn had really existed and if her memories weren't all fake... which really begged the question, were the monks really that thorough or had she been the one to insist upon watching the stupid movie all the time? Shuddering at the idea, Buffy turned back to her patient audience. "There was Sleepy, Doc, Dopey - don't ask, I never did - and-" she began, her smile freezing and then slipping altogether as the fine hairs on the back of her neck began to tingle.
"What is it?" Mirdan asked, his brown eyes narrowing as he took in the tense set to Buffy's shoulders.
"Remember that feeling I got right before the orcs decided to crash the party?" the slayer asked, her small hands reaching towards her sword as she quickly clambered to her feet, her eyes trying to peel back the layers of darkness that surrounded their small camp. "Well I'm getting it again," she murmured as she drew her sword from its sheath, the elves hurrying to their feet - all except for Legolas who remained by the fire, his eyes growing glazed as he tilted his head to the side, as though listening to something that only he could hear.
"Orcs come this way," he murmured, his soft voice instantly silencing Mirdan's questions as Thoron cursed and reached for his bow and quiver.
Rolling her eyes, Buffy glared at the three elves as they scurried for their weapons, watching as they instantly drew their cloaks about them and pulled their hoods around their faces, effectively casting their small camp into a debilitating darkness that was lightened only by the flickering light of their fire. "Didn't I just say that?" she demanded as Thoron deftly shimmied up the smooth trunk of the tree behind him and disappeared into the dark branches above. "And what's with your early warning system? Because trust me when I say that it's not so early," she griped as both Mirdan and Legolas turned to her, their cloaks preventing their bodies from glowing in the deepening night.
"Come, we must-"
"Get to the trees, yeah, I got the memo," Buffy groused as she shot Legolas an annoyed glare before turning to reluctantly eye the branches above. Was it only the day before yesterday that she had promised herself that next time, she was sticking to the ground?... although by the looks of it, she may not have a choice. Frowning, Buffy scanned the nearby trees, all darker, more twisted, and far more ominous than the grand trees of the last battle - and all with branches that were beyond even her impressive reach. "I'm thinking that this whole going to the trees is a lot easier said than done this time around," she admitted as she walked to the lowest branch she could find - and frowned as she saw that it was a good five feet higher than the one she had been able to barely reach during the first battle. "I can't jump that," she admitted as she arched her neck to trace the path of the heavy, twisted branch.
"Can you not climb?" Mirdan demanded, his hands securing his bow and quiver behind his back as his eyes darted nervously around them. Only now was he beginning to discern the changes in the trees' song - and it wasn't a pleasant change to his sharp hearing.
"Climb?" Buffy parroted as she eyed the impossibly smooth, black bark. "How about no," she stated as she quickly shook her head, her eyes beginning to dart around the clearing as her senses began to scream in alarm. They were running out of time.
"Then I shall help you," Legolas stated as he cupped his hands before him. Seeing his lord's intentions, Mirdan left without another word and made his way towards the lowest branch. "Quickly now," Legolas added as Mirdan lithely made his way into the trees above, leaving the two alone in the darkening clearing.
Sighing softly, Buffy looked longingly at the dark shadows that beckoned just beyond the reach of their small fire before finally acceding to the elf's wishes. "Freaking feather-monkeys," she griped as she slid her sword's harness across her slender shoulders and then lifted her foot until it was resting lightly in Legolas' hand. "I sure hope you're stronger than you look," she stated, her eyes lifting to meet with Legolas' as she placed a hand on each shoulder.
"I am an elf," Legolas returned, a small, innocent smile pulling at his lips as the muscles in his legs tensed. "On three. One. Two. Three," he stated as he bent low and then heaved with all of his strength, feeling Buffy bend with him before pushing up from his upward thrust. Stepping back, he watched as she flew upwards and into the dark sky, her dark jacket fluttering around her slender frame as her hands reached ever upward. In another moment her hands were wrapped securely around the bole of the thick branch, freeing the prince to find his own way into the high branches.
"Here," Mirdan murmured as he balanced easily on the thick branch above the small human, his long arm reaching down until his hand was wrapped firmly around Buffy's wrist. Without even wavering in his precarious position, he easily lifted her by the arm and then settled her gently on the branch before him, his other hand reaching out to steady her on the slick wood.
"Thanks," Buffy muttered as she slowly backed along the branch until she was once more securely nestled against the base of a tree - and then nearly slipped as Thoron suddenly dropped onto the branch slightly above her as Legolas simultaneously appeared to her other side from below.
"I see only a small number, my Lord - fewer than the last," the older, dark-haired elf reported as his hands hurriedly reached for his bow and an arrow from the quiver on his back.
Frowning, Buffy clung to the dark, oily bark as she tried to make sense of the elf's words. "Something's off," she muttered to herself as she stretched out her senses, hardening herself against the unnatural feel of those that were almost upon them. The sensation was familiar from the day before, but if anything, it felt greater than the previous day - not lessened.
Legolas watched as the small troop of orcs clambered into view, the firelight reflecting eerily off of their black eyes as they swarmed upon their campsite. Grimacing, he watched as their filthy hands pulled at their packs, upending the contents and completely destroying whatever they touched as their comrades turned to the darkness and the trees above. "They know we are here," he stated, his heart heavy in his chest as his long fingers tightened around the comforting weight of his longbow. "We cannot stay hidden forever."
"It seems we no longer have that option," Mirdan returned dryly as one of the orcs caught sight of the small gathering of elves, its guttural voice ringing out as it pointed to the four beings in evident glee.
Instantly everything erupted in complete pandemonium as the elves scattered beneath the sudden barrage of ugly, dripping black arrows. Cursing vehemently beneath her breath, Buffy once more found herself attempting to become one with the tree that she was desperately clinging to as the arrows thwumped into the bark beside her. Yet even with the natural camouflage of her tanned leathers, it seemed as though the orcs had night vision that even she could be jealous of as their barrage fell unerringly closer to her precarious position - which was when she locked eyes with Mirdan from his position in a nearby tree.
She was a sitting duck in the tree, and they both knew it. While the Firstborn were able to effortlessly balance in the high branches and draw arrow upon the enemy, she was forced to sit and quiver beside the tree base. There were no branches that she could move to, and the bark was too smooth and oiled for her to even try to climb. She could not go up. She could not go to either side. The only place that she could go was down, and that was a place that the orcs seemed determined to bring her as another arrow pierced the bark beside her cheek.
Yet Buffy had lived for seven years as the Slayer; seven years of fighting the worst evil imaginable. If anything, while the creatures below sent her senses burning with loathing and disgust, they didn't strike fear into her heart. Instead, the sharp whistle of their short, ugly black arrows that dripped a black, tar-like substance only caused another kind of heat to build within a heart that had been shattered only days before: they built anger. Eyes narrowing into slits, Buffy scraped her back against the tree as she stood and glared down upon the mass of creatures that twisted and undulated beneath her as they tried to avoid the piercing arrows that rained from above - and then froze as her eyes caught a soft glow to her right. Turning, she felt her eyes widen as Mirdan purposely adjusted his hood, allowing the briefest flash of his glowing skin to illuminate the darkness around him before once more vanishing into the darkness.
The kind, dark-haired elf had revealed himself to their enemies in order to draw their fire upon him and to spare her from their onslaught - and it had cost him dearly. As one dark arrow found its target and ripped into soft elven flesh, a piercing cry echoed above the guttural language. With a sweeping arc, the thin shaft bore the ethereal creature from his high branch, plummeting him to the hard ground so far below where he landed in a twisted heap.
Once he fell, he did not rise again.
As Legolas and Thoron called out to their companion, panic twisting their melodic voices and drawing the orcs' fire upon their ever-changing positions, the slayer didn't waste time searching out her travel-buddies as she stepped away from the relative safety of the tree's base and allowed gravity to pull her down. Darkness, as thick and black as that which dwelt in nightmares, effectively hid the approaching ground until she had little warning, guaranteeing that her landing was not graceful nor beautiful - merely one filled with surprise and pain. Grunting, she bent to absorb the landing as best as possible, wincing as she landed hard and then rolled to the side, bowling over a few orcs as she went.
In seconds she was on her feet, sword in hand as she swept the gleaming blade in a wide arc that met with resistance as it sliced a nearby orc from shoulder to hip, felling the hideous creature as she hurried towards where she had seen Mirdan fall. With its death scream ringing in her ears, she felt as though she had landed herself in the middle of a maelstrom. There was death and chaos all around her as elven arrows cut her a narrow path through the enemies and to Mirdan's side. Yet even when she had reached the fallen elf, she had no time but to spare his pale face and the cascade of his rich brown hair more than a cursory glance before she was once more swinging her blade at the orcs that dared venture close enough to her and that which she protected.
In that timeless moment, with death surrounding her and the battle screams of the orcs tearing at her soul, Buffy once more felt truly alive.
Gone was the grief, the sadness, the heartache.
Gone was the pain, the uncertainty, the confusion.
Gone was everything that pulled her in so many directions.
Gone was Buffy Summers.
All that remained was the Slayer.
Twisting, Buffy ducked beneath the hooked blade of a large, snarling orc's sword as she pivoted on her heel and then drove her sword tip forward until it pierced the creature's thin armor and washed the gleaming blade with black blood. Lifting her foot, she planted it against the creature's plated chest, her cold eyes locking briefly on the orc's wide, hate-filled gaze as she pushed against it and pulled her blade free. Turning again in a deadly circle that cut through another orc's neck and washed the forest floor in its dark blood, she danced back and used her weapon to stop the downward sweep of a sword that was meant for Mirdan, blocking the heavy blow and planting her feet to push back the lumbering creature. Locking their blades together, she then stepped towards him, bringing her face within inches of its disfigured, sneering face - and then hooked her leg around his thick, muscular calf and pushed him off-balance so that he fell back, releasing her sword and allowing it to sweep in a tight arc that split open its front from rib to shoulder, ending its life in one swift strike. She twisted and stepped into the orc that had been charging her back, allowing it to impale itself on the weapon's bloodied tip.
Grimacing as a wave of hot, putrid air washed over her face as the creature exhaled its final breath, Buffy came back to herself with a sickening, sudden awareness that left her reeling. Gasping, she held the sword before her, effectively holding the dying creature aloft as she looked into the orc's hooded gaze as the light was forever erased from its gleaming orbs. Heart hammering against her chest, as though desperate to break free, she reflexively stepped back, pulling her blade free as the mortal wound released the blade with a wet sucking sound that echoed in the quiet night.
Quiet.
Startled, Buffy turned and finally noted the carnage that surrounded her. There were dead bodies of the fallen orcs all over their small clearing, bodies twisted around beautifully fletched arrows and others that were splayed with wide, gaping wounds that drenched the ground in oozing, black blood. It was carnage, pure and simple. The carnage of those twisted by evil - by those that never should have been. She had spilt their blood upon the dark and twisted grounds of the forests of Mirkwood, and she had done it without shame or hesitation. She had done so without thought or pause. She had done so without quip or retort. She had done so as the Slayer that the Watcher's Council had always wanted her to be - and the Slayer that she had always strived to rise above.
Her friends had kept her alive for this long. They had kept her human.
Her friends were gone.
Suddenly, Buffy was afraid of what that truly meant - not only for her heart, but for her soul.
For the first time, Buffy was afraid of what she would become.
"How is he?"
Frowning grimly, Thoron knelt beside Mirdan and gently inspected the black, stubbly arrow that protruded from Mirdan's shoulder. "Not well, my Lord. The wound is not serious," he stated as he hurriedly ripped a long length of material from his cloak and then pulled the dark arrow from the shoulder, pressing the cloth against the bloody wound. "And while the fall did not help matters," Thoron continued as he grimly glanced to where Legolas knelt beside him, "it is the poison on the arrow's tip which worries me. I fear that his wound is beyond our skill to heal."
Eyes narrowing upon the black ooze that dripped from the arrow's shaft, Legolas turned from his companions, his eyes lighting upon where Buffy stood behind them, as though lost to her own thoughts. "Buffy, gather what you can of our belongings," he ordered, his sharp words cutting through her paralysis and causing her eyes to finally focus on her surroundings. Turning, he didn't wait to see if his orders would be followed as he then lifted his fingers to his lips and whistled a sharp, piercing note that echoed through the muffled silence of the woods. Within moments three elven horses galloped into the clearing, their eyes wide and their movements skittish as they obediently moved to the prince's side. "Help me, Thoron," he urged as he bent low and gently gathered Mirdan's limp form into his arms.
Nodding curtly, the dark-haired elf hurried to his horse and leapt lightly onto the brown stallion's back. Reaching down, he then pulled the unconscious elf up until he was settled on the horse before him, Mirdan's back cradled against his chest. "We must make it to Rhosgobel," Thoron murmured, stating the obvious course as Buffy returned to their sides, her small arms filled with three hastily filled packs that she quickly helped to fasten to the horse's tall back.
"Come, Buffy," Legolas stated as he turned and hurried to his own mount, the horse's white coat reflecting the elves' weak light as Legolas helped the petite human onto Sador's back. Gently entwining his fingers in the horse's soft mane, Legolas was about to join Buffy when once more, the sharp whistle of an orc arrow broke the night stillness. Crying out in dismay, Legolas darted back as the arrow buried itself deep in Sador's haunches, causing the great horse to shriek in agony as she instinctively arched up and forward, throwing Buffy from her back and tossing her ruthlessly to the hard ground.
"No, dartho!" Legolas cried as his wounded horse instinctively bolted into the darkness, her agonized shrieks like little knives that stabbed into his heart.
"Legolas!" Thoron bellowed as a fresh wave of orcs burst through the trees on the opposite side of the clearing, the mass converging on Buffy's fallen form as the slayer drunkenly stumbled to her feet. "Tol, Legolas! Enni!" he cried, unconsciously switching back into their native language as he hurriedly beckoned his liege towards him.
"Get Mirdan out of here!" Legolas returned as he hurried to Buffy's side, blocking an orc's attack to her unprotected back with the hilt of one of his gleaming, white-handled knives.
"U-gwannathan ir deridh!" Thoron roared, his eyes narrowing into twin slits as he steadfastly refused to leave without his lord. "Your father ordered me to ensure your safety!"
"And I am ordering you to take Mirdan from this place!" Legolas roared as Buffy finally seemed to find her footing as she lifted her blade and began to cut at the orcs that opposed them. Sighing softly, the prince took a brief moment to turn and meet the angry gaze of the older elf who was violently struggling with his protesting horse, forcing it to stay as the wave of orcs broke upon them. "Thoron, revio! Noro ter i yrch a drego an Rhosgobel!" he commanded, his eyes softening slightly as he ordered the elf to hurry away to the settlement of Men. What went unspoken was the tentative hope that help could be found there - even though both knew that it would be too late in coming.
For a moment more, Legolas thought that Thoron would disobey him - until an orc's arrow settled the matter for him as it clipped the frightened beast and sent it galloping into the dark night, ignoring his master's commands. Feeling a small part of his mind rest with the knowledge that at least Thoron and Mirdan had found safety, Legolas returned his full attention to the battle set before him - and felt his eyes narrow as he realized that there were too many.
"I knew that there was something wrong!" Buffy grunted from beside him as she cleaved an orc's head from its shoulders with one powerful swing. "My spider sense never lies!" she shouted as she twisted and ducked beneath an answering stroke, only to find herself surrounded on all sides as the orcs' screeching bellows echoed off of the tall trees.
And she had been right. Legolas saw it so clearly now as he twirled beneath one orc's advance, his twin blades arcing around his lean form as they slashed at the abominations that surrounded him. What Thoron had seen had been a mere scouting party of the larger troupe that had answered their brethren's hideous call, and those that they now faced were a number against which he and his small human companion could stand no chance - regardless of her apparent skill. It was as though he was once more on the ramparts at Helm's Deep, or once more standing upon the barren Pelennor Fields before the mighty city of Minas Tirith... or before the Black Gate itself. He faced insurmountable odds, and this time there was no Gandalf and the missing men of Rohan, nor the Trees of Fangorn to save them. This time there was no brave little hobbit and his stalwart companion. This time, they were alone.
"You know, it's getting a bit crowded down here!" Buffy cried out as the press of orcs began to overwhelm her. It was impossible for her one sword to be in all places at once - to cover all sides and still strike against the enemy. Within minutes she had to abandon the offensive as she strove to keep their hits to a minimum - yet already she felt the cruel sting where too many blades had found her skin unprotected. She was a Slayer, the Chosen One, with the stamina to prove it - and even so, she felt the weariness begin to push upon her as three new orcs replaced each one that she managed to kill.
A sudden flare of light caught Buffy's eye, as Legolas' hood finally fell free, spilling his long blond hair about his shoulders and revealing his luminescent skin to the dark night. Instantly, it was as though someone had replaced the angry orcs with something truly ravenous as their unwavering attention fell upon the softly glowing being - and as they descended upon him with a vengeance. Frowning, Buffy felt her opponents tighten their circle around her as they choked off the one that was encasing Legolas' shimmering form as he moved wildly in the increasingly narrow space.
"Legolas!" Buffy cried out as one orc scored a hit and caused the prince to stumble slightly before resuming his lethal dance. "Why don't you... take to the trees or something?" she cried out as she instinctively began to understand the hatred that had lined the faces of her companions as they spoke of the dark creatures that continued to haunt their world. While the orcs were dark and twisted and an abomination that should never have existed, it was as though the elves were their counterparts. They were the ethereal light to the orcs' darkness. They were pure and beautiful, if somewhat cranky and arrogant, to the orcs' corrupted evil. And on some basic level, the orcs knew this - and they hated Legolas all the more for it. "Get in the trees!" she yelled as the orcs scored another hit on the weakening elf, even as her inattention cost her a new, fiery wound of her own. "They'll never be able to find you up there!"
"I... will not... leave you to face them alone!" Legolas finally returned, his breath coming between tightly clenched lips.
Grimacing, Buffy jumped back from a sword's downward arc, only to be ruthlessly shoved forward by an orc behind her. "Don't worry about me," she muttered as she swept her blade in wide arc that briefly caused the orcs to stumble back lest they feel the bite of her sword. "This is what I was born to do," she finished, a brief, grim smile pulling at her lips. A smile that was quickly replaced by a grimace of pain as the orcs chose that moment to surge forward in a crushing grip that had her pressed against hard, smelly bodies that were covered in a slick grime that wreaked of blood and filth. Teeth gnashed by her ears as cruel fingers dug into the soft flesh of her skin, batting her sword away as fists pounded upon her, beating her to the ground.
Stifling her cries of pain, Buffy struggled up, knowing that once she was down, she wouldn't be rising again. Surprisingly, she found that the orcs allowed her this small movement as large hands grappled and shoved her sideways until she slammed, face-first against a pointed shoulder. Groaning, Buffy pressed a hand to her stinging cheek as she lifted her eyes to find Legolas staring down at her, his beautiful face marred by a thin cut that trailed a line of blood from his smooth temple. His clothes were ripped and torn, and his skin glowed lightly in the darkness as the orcs began to loosen their circle until she and Legolas stood alone, surrounded by the orcs that continued to bellow gleefully in their grating language - until one alone stepped forward, his eyes hungrily playing over Legolas' proud, stiff features.
"Look, boys - a pretty elf-toy to play with!"
Startled, Buffy instinctively found herself stepping closer to Legolas as she realized for the first time that the orcs spoke English. They spoke English, and somehow, hearing their grating voices taunt them in her own language was so much more disturbing then even their dark speech.
"And I smell Man flesh!" another added as he, too, stepped forward to slowly circle her and Legolas, his eyes greedily taking in her petite form as though she was a fine delicacy that he couldn't wait to sample.
Eyes narrowing, Buffy felt her muscles tense as she unconsciously straightened to her full height. "I can't smell anything but your-" she began, the rest of her taunt forgotten as a vicious kick from behind sent her and Legolas falling forward until her small hands were twisted in the thick leaves. Grunting, she felt a heavy weight settle upon the small of her back, effectively pinning her down as hands reached down and cruelly twisted her arms behind her before snapping a pair of heavy manacles on her thin wrists.
Wincing at the rough treatment, Buffy bit her lip as she was pulled to her feet and then pushed forward. Stumbling on weakened legs, the slayer fell against another orc who once more shoved her forward, nearly sending her to her knees once more. Cursing, Buffy struggled to maintain her footing amidst the twisted roots of the towering trees as that same hand continued to shove her forward until she found herself half running, half stumbling in a grouping of orcs and away from the bloody clearing. It took Buffy a moment more to truly find her balance, but once she did, she found herself running beside Legolas, gratefully using his natural luminescence to guide her feet in the darkness.
"Okay," she stated as she struggled to keep up with the hard, driving pace of the orcs, "on the rare occasion the bad guys do manage to kick my ass, there's usually a celebratory dance before my immanent death. What am I missing here?" she asked as they were both driven, bound as they were, through the dark forest.
Legolas took a moment to search for the stars high above, catching brief glimpses of their comforting light through the twisted branches. Southeast. They were heading southeast, which could only mean one destination: Emyn-nu-Fuin, the Mountains of Mirkwood. "I am afraid that such a death would be too easy for them," he finally sighed as he willed his face into the same stoic mask that was a testament to his kind. He would not allow them to see signs of his pain nor of his weariness. After all, if they truly were heading towards the Mountains, he knew that they would have plenty of opportunities to do so, as he had the feeling that the orcs would push them all night in order to reach their destination before the sun rose above the horizon.
"Too easy?" Buffy returned, daring a brief glance from the ground to look skeptically at the elf beside her.
"Aye," Legolas murmured as his eyes drifted forward. "Before the end is at hand, they will strive to make us beg for such a release," he added as an orc bellowed for silence before kicking him viciously in the back, sending him stumbling against another orc who quickly reveled in the game and sent him stumbling back with another blow. Grimacing, he moved with each hit, ignoring the pain that flared with each heavy fist and forced himself forward.
"Oh," Buffy murmured as she, too, looked towards the darkness that enveloped them like a wicked mother, holding them close against her cold bosom. "Oh."
Dartho - Stay
Tol, Legolas! Enni! - Come, Legolas! To me!
U-gwannathan ir deridh! - I will not depart while you remain!
Thoron, revio! Noro ter i yrch a drego an Rhosgobel! - Thoron, fly! Ride through the orcs and flee to Rhosgobel!