Equinoxium: Chapter 9
by Lisette
Legalese: See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.
Chest heaving and flank slick with sweat, the brown stallion, or Andrann, as he was called, tore through the thick undergrowth of the tangled forest, heedless of the branches that snapped at his side and tore through his chestnut mane as he bore his two passengers through the dark night. He could sense his master's unease - could feel the tension rippling through the elf's lean frame - and that tension only caused Andrann's steps to quicken as he finally broke from the wild tangles of the forest that had barred their way for so many hours, and onto a wide road, lit by the cold stars above.
"Noro lim, mellon bain," Thoron urged as he guided his horse down the path towards the West, whispering for Andrann to ride on. "Noro lim a revio an Rhosgobel!" he called, echoing his lord's command as the horse began to fly towards the settlement too many leagues distant. The pounding of the steed's hooves hammered against his senses, Mirdan clutched against him, but Thoron found his thoughts stranded in a dark clearing so far away from the Old Forest Road that would bring them to safety.
"Ai, Elbereth, what have I done?" he whispered, his eyes seeing naught of the dirt road that lay straight and true before him. "What have I done?" he whispered again, his words a broken cadence that thrummed with the hurting of his own heart. His king had asked for him to stay on in Middle-earth to look after his youngest son - to ensure that Prince Legolas would one day return to Thranduil and his two remaining sons. It was a request, and not an order, for both knew that the Prince was obstinate in his desire to remain in Middle-earth until all that held him to this world was dead and gone. He would not abandon his friends, and in turn, Thoron had vowed to never abandon the young Prince that had overcome a tragedy that should have delivered him into the arms of Mandos centuries before.
Yet abandon him he had.
He had left his young prince to the mercy of orcs - an oxymoron, for all knew that orcs did not understand the concept of mercy. He had abandoned his lord and his prince to a fate of pain, torture, and death, with no one to watch his back nor to stand by his side. True, the young human woman was in the clearing as well, yet he could hardly find any reassurance in that. His prince might as well have been alone in that clearing as the dark, twisted creatures rushed him with their ratcheted swords and drawn bows. He had failed. He had-
Groaning softly, Mirdan's body stiffened as the younger elf twisted against Thoron, as though trying to escape whatever dark dreams held him captive.
Frowning, Thoron brushed long fingers against the elf's pained features, noting the unnatural heat that radiated from his flushed cheeks. The poison was working through the younger elf's system far quicker than he would have liked, and Thoron realized that he was losing both of his companions - and there was naught he could do to help either.
"Stay with me, my friend, dartho ah nin," he repeated automatically as he tightened his hold on the unconscious elf. "And may Elbereth watch over you both," he whispered, his words a fervent prayer as his head tilted towards the bright star that twinkled so far above.
Breath hissing between bloodied lips, Buffy forced one foot in front of the other as she staggered over the hazardous, wooded terrain, the heavy manacles pulling at her aching wrists. Not that she really noticed that small pain - not any more. Why bother focusing on one when there were so many others that vied for her attention? She and her elven companion had been forced to run non-stop for hours as the darkness deepened into the blackest part of night and then began to lift upon the graying of the coming morning. They had been given no chance for a break, no respite, and certainly no food or water as they were jostled amongst the orcs that held them captive - and Buffy was really beginning to tire of the routine.
Growling as another orc purposely ran its pointed elbow into the tender area above her already-bruised kidney, Buffy moved with the sharp blow, ignoring the pain as she bumped into the tall elf that continued to run almost effortlessly beside her. Yet as she lifted her eyes to his, she saw the weariness hidden beneath his blue-eyed gaze - a gaze that continued to become more grim with each twisted tree that they passed. Frowning, Buffy watched as Legolas turned from her piercing gaze, his eyes sweeping over the waning trees and to the craggy peaks that now loomed over their heads, bathed in the pre-dawn light of the coming day.
"Before the end is at hand, they will strive to make us beg for such a release."
Buffy tiredly followed the orc that ran in front of her, her thoughts whirling madly. It didn't take a Giles or a Willow to tell her that they were in trouble - she knew that as surely as she knew that orcs stunk beyond believing. It also didn't take a watcher or a witch to point out that they needed to find some way to escape this madness. Yet she had been pondering that same fact for the last however many hours, and so far the slayer was coming up short. There were orcs all around them, and with their hands bound behind their backs and the press of the foul beasts so tight around them, she was decidedly lacking in the plan department. Where were her Scoobies when she really needed them? Only two days without her friends and she had already landed herself as a prisoner of some of the nastiest smelling creatures she had ever encountered. Then again, while she knew that she was in trouble, her problems didn't seem nearly as dire as Legolas'.
While the orcs obviously got a sick pleasure from watching her struggle to find her footing in the darkness, they absolutely delighted in making the elf's life as miserable as possible. She had lost count after the first fifty times that one of the orcs had purposely tried to trip the graceful archer, only to have the elf falter only slightly before regaining his usual easy stride. Yet as the night waned, Legolas' steps seemed less easy and Buffy knew that sooner or later, her companion wasn't going to be able to stop himself from hitting the ground - and when that happened, she wasn't entirely sure that he would be allowed to regain his footing before all hell broke loose.
Staggering slightly as the terrain once more changed beneath her questing feet, Buffy quickly lifted her eyes as the twisted trees of Mirkwood broke for the first time to reveal an insurmountable wall of dark rock that jutted against the base of the tree line. Startled, the slayer forgot about her captors and her crippling weariness as her head tilted back to take in the craggy mountain of rock - her first real look at the Mountains of Mirkwood, the Emyn-nu-Fuin - and felt herself backpedaling as her slayer sense, already muddled from being forced to run amidst so much evil for so long, began to hum as the orc stench encircled her. Recoiling, she instinctively tried to turn away, only to run into the hard armor of the orc behind her as its rough, heavy hand wrapped around the back of her neck and forced her forward.
"Slayer strength my-," Buffy began as she struggled tiredly against the orc's pincer-like grip, a pained groan escaping her lips and interrupting her tirade as the creature shoved her already battered body against the jagged rock face.
"Slayer-" Legolas began, his eyes betraying a curiosity that was quickly stamped out as his captors slammed him beside her, the evil creatures grinding him against the jagged stone. Schooling his features into an indifferent mask, Legolas bore the abuse against his hurting body as his anger burned bright within him. If Gimli ever learned of this, he would never live it down. Captured by orcs and prodded towards their stronghold - it was an injustice against his Elvish dignity and the prince found his anger tempered only by his growing anxiety - an anxiety that began to thrum throughout his body as he was roughly forced to follow Buffy along the rock face and towards a cave entrance that greedily opened as though a hungry mouth, just waiting to devour him whole. The darkness would be nothing like that which was found in the deep places of Moria, but he felt as though he were being forced into those same unfathomable depths.
Biting her lip as she was ruthlessly shoved to the ground, Buffy rolled with the impact as her bound arms took the brunt of the hurt. Grimacing, she struggled to rise again, only to have a heavy foot crash against her upper back, easily pinning her to the uneven floor of the darkened cavern. Wincing as a pointed heel spur dug into the soft flesh at the base of her neck, the slayer felt the skin break and warm blood soak into her clothing before trailing a wet path down her neck. Tired features creasing, Buffy struggled weakly against the orc's heavy foot - and then forgot all about her own struggles as she heard Legolas' unmistakable voice lift in a panicked rush that she couldn't understand. Turning her head to the side, she watched as a large group of orcs ruthlessly forced the elf inside the cave, the blond archer fighting as though possessed.
"Legolas!" she called, her eyes growing wide as whatever hostility the foul beasts had been hinting at during their long run, finally broke loose as though a dam had been shattered. It seemed as though every orc that they had faced in their clearing, as well as several others that poured from the dark recesses of the cave, all converged upon the downed elf as they beat him without mercy, their fell voices raised with an excited blood lust that caused Buffy's heart to hammer in her chest.
"Legolas!" she called again, her voice tinged with panic as the slayer renewed her struggles against her lone captor, bucking wildly beneath his heavy, booted hold. Lying on her stomach as she was, with nothing but her feet free, there was very little that she could do against the heavy weight that pressed against her.
Very little, but never nothing.
Lips thinning in a pained grimace, Buffy did the only thing that was open to her as, ignoring the pain in her raw, bruised wrists and the rocks that sliced along her exposed skin, she arched her back and then lifted her legs up and towards her head in an acrobatic feat that would have been impossible before she had been Called. Grunting, she hooked her feet around the orc's ankles and pulled him off-balance, yelping as the orc's heel slipped towards her head, slicing a long, meaty groove along the back of her neck with his pointed spur. Tears stinging her eyes, Buffy didn't wait for the orc to land as she quickly rolled to the side and staggered to her feet - only to have the sparse light in the cavern flicker before her eyes as a fist rocked against her chin and sent her flying back to the floor.
Crying out as her arms twisted beneath her, Buffy attempted to roll to her feet once more only to have another fist beat her down. Within moments it felt as though she had gained her own circle of tormenters as heavy fists rained blows down upon her already battered body, sharp, pointed toes digging past her feeble attempts at curling away from the hurt and finding new places to tear into soft flesh. It felt as though someone had unleashed a Turok-Han upon her as darkness began to steal at her dimming vision - a darkness that she struggled against with the last of her waning strength, fearing that to succumb would mean to never again awaken to see the coming day. She may have had everything that she loved stricken from her life, but that didn't mean that she welcomed death's siren call.
Not yet, at least.
Breath hissing between bloodied lips, waving on the brink between pain and the beckoning release of unconsciousness, Buffy felt the heavy blows slowly taper away as the press of bodies released her aching body to the cold floor. Limbs shaking with tremors that were beyond her control, Buffy hovered on the precarious brink as a wave of hot, putrid breath washed over her face. Grimacing, she tried to draw further away as hands once more reached for her body, forcing her to uncurl as ragged metal, as painfully cold as ice on a winter morning, wrapped around her neck and locked with a resounding clank that sealed her fate as surely as any judge from his high bench.
Eyes snapping open, the small slayer glared into the dark eyes of the orc that finished securing the manacle around her throat, her gaze forming all of the curses which her bloodied lips were unable to utter. Unmoved, the twisted creature merely smiled in return, its putrid breath once more washing over her bloodied face as he stepped back, the clinking of a heavy chain rattling in his hands.
"Smile pretty," he hissed before jerking the length of chain in its hands, its lips twisted into a cruel smile as the short length pulled at the collar that was locked so tightly around her neck, effectively cutting off her breath as he turned and dragged her battered body down the length of the cavern and into the darkness.
Gasping, body slick with sweat and blood, Buffy felt the darkness reach out to claim her as stars began to explode before her eyes, her chest struggling to draw breath into aching lungs. Everything disappeared behind the wall of pain as her thoughts began to drift away. The air that she gasped couldn't make it past her restricted throat, and the darkness here was absolute. Only when the orc's end of the short chain was secured to a spike that was driven into the stone floor did her breathing finally ease. Gasping, Buffy felt as though each limb weighed more than even she could lift or carry as she blearily opened her heavy green eyes, the light of the lifting morning seeming as though a small dot in an ocean of darkness. Yet the light of the coming morning was the perfect background for the cluster of orcs that remained circled around Legolas' unmoving form, their fists continuously falling upon him.
"Nya-" she began, unsure exactly what she was trying to convey as she struggled to move towards the fallen elf - only to have the darkness become absolute as a booted foot connected solidly with her hurting head, finally sending her over the brink and into the unending silence.
The sun had risen hours ago, and yet the horse never faltered in its mad clip down the wide, dusty road, trees ever thick beside it. The hours passed without notice, the sun lifting in the sky and gracing the two elves with her light as she reached towards her pinnacle, bathing them with warmth and pushing them ever forward - a beacon to light their path and lead them straight and true. Slowly, the thick, twisted trees of Mirkwood began to thin as Thoron's sharp hearing detected a quiet hum that existed outside the heavy pounding of his steed's graceful step. Instinctively pulling Mirdan's unresponsive form tighter against his chest, Thoron looked towards the village that banked against the edge of the dark forest.
Rhosgobel.
A settlement of Men.
Mirdan's only hope, and Thoron's only chance to find aid for his prince.
If he hadn't been so desperate, Thoron would have laughed at the thought. Yet the fact remained that he was desperate. He had left Legolas to the hands of the orcs only hours after the sun had set the night before. It was now coming upon the high arc of the sun and this settlement of Men was his only hope. The idea was laughable - ludicrous - and yet Thoron guided his large stallion through the trees and into the small village, his head held high as he pulled the unconscious elf against him.
Instantly he felt the eyes of the scattered Edain fall upon him - men and women, dirty and bent over tubs of water, pelts of skin, and hot metals as their young ones ran screaming around the small, square buildings. It was a settlement of Men in the truest sense, from the rank smell of too many Edain living too close together, to their harsh buildings that sprang from the ground and stood as a stark eyesore against Arda's natural beauty. And yet these were the people to which he was forced to turn for help.
Swallowing his pride, Thoron stiffly allowed his gaze to sweep over the startled townspeople, his face a stoic mask that hid his inner turmoil. "I need assistance," he stated, his voice low and clear as he waited for the Men to step forward. Yet if anything, the grouping of people stepped back as they recoiled beneath the full weight of an Elven stare - one not accustomed to dealing with the mortal world. Frowning, Thoron allowed his gaze to show his displeasure as he shifted Mirdan's dead weight against him, Andrann echoing his sentiments as he stomped one heavy foot upon the dirt road. "My companion is injured," Thoron continued, wondering if the entire population were truly as daft as they appeared. Couldn't they see that Mirdan was injured? Couldn't they stop gawking long enough to come to their aid? "I need-"
"Kiric," one of the Edain broke in, his rough voice easily carrying over Thoron's lighter tones as the man nodded towards a small boy that stood uncertainly against the building behind him. "Kiric, go and fetch the Rangers and their friends. Quickly now!" he added as his dark gaze swept over the pale elf that trembled in Thoron's grip.
Startled, the older elf clutched Mirdan against him as the small boy turned away and hurried down the street before disappearing into a long, low building down the way. For a moment, the dark-haired elf couldn't believe his luck as the first inklings of hope began to lift his fa. While the Rangers of the North were still Men, they were of the Dnedain - the kin of King Elessar - and were led by Halbarad, a Man that was said to have ridden the Paths of the Dead with his Prince. They were long-descended from the blood of the Firstborn, and more importantly, it was said that they traveled with-
"Lords Elladan, Elrohir!" Thoron called out as the twin sons of Lord Elrond filed out of the far building amidst a large grouping of Men that were dressed in the habit of the Rangers of the North. Urging Andrann forward, he met the startled twins near the open doorway as the half-elven lords stood for a moment to gape at him and Mirdan, their long brown hair pushed behind identical, delicately-tapered ears, gray cloaks draped over their shoulders - their broadness a testament to their mixed heritage.
"Master Thoron, what are you- what happened?" one of the twins asked as he helped to ease Mirdan down from the high steed - which twin, Thoron couldn't be sure. They both looked the same, even to his trained eye, and he and his king had often silently debated which was which over the many thousands of years since their birth.
"Who is this?" the other asked as he helped his brother to carry the unconscious elf towards the low building, the Edain parting before the brothers as they swept into the darkened interior.
"This is Mirdan, son of Derinias, formerly of the woodland realm," Thoron stated as his eyes swept over the large room, obviously one of the taverns that the Edain were known to frequent. "We were attacked by orcs and he took hurt to his shoulder. The arrow was poisoned," he explained, his voice curt as the twins lowered the unconscious elf to one of the hard tables.
"How long ago?" one asked, Elladan, he believed, as his hands - the trained hands of a healer - began to uncover the wound for inspection.
"Last night, and the Prince-"
"Legolas?" the other interrupted, his fair face pinched as he quickly looked towards the door, as though expecting his friend to step into the room at any moment. "Where is he?"
"I know not," Thoron returned, his voice grim as Elladan - he was almost positive it was Elladan - turned from Mirdan's bloody wound to begin digging through a small pack that one of the Rangers had carried to the elf's side. "Mirdan was injured and my Lord bid me to leave."
Startled, Elladan paused in his search and turned wide eyes to his brother. Silently he conveyed his worry to his twin as he struggled against the memory of an orc's cruelty. While he had never before known the displeasure of an orc's company, his mother had been forced to experience it firsthand when she was taken from them over five hundred years ago. Five hundred years, and yet the memory was as sharp as if it had been yesterday. It had been he and Elrohir who had finally found her, bound and broken upon the floor of a cave in the Misty Mountains. Time had healed her injuries, but it could not heal the damage that had been done to her spirit, and shortly thereafter she had left her family to travel to the Undying Lands in hopes of finally finding the peace and healing that she deserved. Since then, he and his brother had hunted the twisted creatures with a dark passion, somehow easing their own hurt with each and every fell creature that they destroyed. Orc captivity was a fate that they would wish upon no one - especially not the young elf that they had known since his birth - the same young elf that had stood by their foster-brother's side throughout the entire War of the Rings.
"It must be the group that we were hunting."
Nodding slightly, decision made, Elladan turned from his brother and nodded towards the Man that had spoken. "I fear that it is," he agreed, his dark eyes sweeping over Halbarad's heavy frame. "Legolas-"
"I remember the lad," the ranger broke in, his lined face twisted with worry. "And Aragorn would have my hide if I let anything happen to him," he added as he beckoned for an older, scarred man to come forth from the large grouping of Rangers. "See to the elf's wounds," he ordered before turning to a tall lad, one of their youngest. "Gather the others," he ordered as he nodded towards the stairs to the rooms above. "We ride out in a few minutes."
With narrowed eyes, Thoron watched for a moment as the older man began to gently cleanse Mirdan's wound, before finally admitting that the Edain seemed to have some skill in Healing - most likely learned from Lord Elrond's sons, or Lord Elrond himself. Sighing softly, the stoic elf allowed that small part of his mind to relax with the knowledge that he would be leaving his companion in good hands as he turned expectantly towards the twins - and then frowned as Elladan... or was it Elrohir?... narrowed his eyes upon him. "I am going with you," Thoron stated before either twin had a chance to say otherwise. "My King bade me to watch over his son and I will not fail my lord in this task."
A smile pulling at his lips, Elrohir glanced to his brother before lightly shrugging his shoulders. "Fair enough," he stated as he started towards the door. "I was just going to ask if you could lead the way."
"It would go much faster if you can bring us to where you last saw Legolas," Elladan added, sharing an amused look with his brother before stepping out into the bright afternoon light - a light that seemed marred by the thought of Legolas in the cruel hands of orcs. "And right now, time is our biggest enemy."
Groaning softly, Buffy slowly felt her way back to the world. Unlike waking from sleep, returning from unconsciousness always had a particular flavor that allowed no room for the soothing grip of dream fantasies. Instead, the cruel, hard world always seized you in its pincer-grip from the moment that the pain was allowed to seep through - and this time, it felt as though she got a double shot of pain with a sprinkle of agony to the mix.
Breath catching in her throat, Buffy pinched her eyes shut as she instinctively curled in upon herself as she tried to get her bearings. The last that she remembered was the foot that had collided with her head, and judging from the pounding misery that radiated through her skull, she imagined that it had been a pretty good kick. Grimacing, Buffy tasted the sour, copper flavor of blood in her mouth as the uneven stone floor pressed cold and gritty beneath her cheek. Ruthlessly refusing to gag on the foul taste, she slowly began to turn, ignoring her body's rather loud and fervent protests against the idea as her chains rattled loudly at her movements.
"Hodo - lie still."
Freezing, Buffy felt her heart hammer against her bruised ribs as she slowly turned her head to the side, the gloom somewhat lessened by the faintly glowing elf beside her. Eyes growing wide, the slayer's gaze fell over his tunic, ripped and stained with blood as Legolas wearily perched on his knees, leaning heavily against the stone wall behind him. His bruised wrists were encased within two heavy manacles that were secured to the wall above him, just high enough to ensure that he couldn't move from his kneeling position - and yet his eyes were wide and clear as they looked at her with worry and compassion. Idly, she realized that she probably didn't look any better as her eyes softened upon the dark bruises that marred his pale cheeks.
Sighing, Buffy's eyes slid shut as she once more tried to move, slowly this time - and then fell still as her body vehemently protested her efforts. She knew that she was healing - her slayer legacy helping in that matter - but it didn't really ease the agony that encased her every thought. "Ow," she whispered, understanding that the simple word was a huge understatement to the pain that was radiating from her battered body, but unable to find the energy to care.
"Indeed," Legolas sighed softly beside her, his sole admission to the pain that caused his aching body to quiver at the remembered touch of the orcs that had so lovingly painted his body in a multitude of new colors.
Eyes slipping open, Buffy looked again at the elf that was bound beside her. "Where are they?" she murmured.
"Scattered all around," Legolas returned, his voice dropping to match her quiet tone. "Sleeping, for the most part."
Grimacing, Buffy shifted again as she tried to find a position on the cold rocks that wouldn't either pull at the chain that was closed around her neck, or at the chains that bound her wrists behind her. In seconds, she realized that all that her movements gained her were the reminders of what else was injured, tied in with the unnaturally loud sound of her chains as they rattled against one another. Sighing, she fell still as her weariness multiplied with this realization. Yet with the beckoning call of oblivion came the by now familiar and unspoken fear that this time, she would never awaken.
"How long have I been out?" Buffy whispered, anxious to keep the quiet at bay.
"Most of the day," Legolas returned, his voice conveying his worry as his gaze trailed over the bruised and torn skin that was exposed to the dank, cavern air. Not that it did any good to worry about her injuries. He couldn't even help himself, let alone anyone else. "Night is coming now," he added, his frown deepening as he turned his eyes towards the light that seemed so very far away, his attention focused towards Iluvatar's song that seemed just beyond his reach.
"Which I'm guessing isn't a good thing," Buffy returned, her eyes narrowing upon his tired features.
"No, it is not," Legolas agreed, his words simple as he thought sadly to the many friends that he would be leaving behind if the orcs had their way. It seemed so senseless to have survived the balrog in Moria, the Uruk-Hai that took Boromir, the great battle at Helm's Deep, the Paths of the Dead, and the later battles on the Pelennor Fields and before the Black Gate itself... only to be killed during a time of peace in the forests of his birth.
As though reading his mind, Buffy sighed softly as she once more shifted. "You'd think that dying in my sleep at the ripe age of ninety-five wasn't asking for too much this time around," she whispered as she finally allowed her head to rest against the gritty rock floor.
"You speak as though you have died before," Legolas returned, somehow summoning his waning curiosity.
"I have. Twice."
Startled, Legolas drew back as much as possible in his restraints, his sharp gaze narrowing upon the bruised face of the girl that lay in a ragged heap before him. "How can that be?" he asked, his head tilting quizzically to the side, his blood-matted hair falling around his narrow shoulders.
Sighing, Buffy's gaze came to rest upon the dark rocks just to the left of Legolas' softly glowing form. It was such a simple question, really, yet the answer was so very complex and spoke of the hurts that she had always held so close to her heart. Instinct bade her to ignore his question and allow the darkness to take her - anything better than reliving the events that had so marked her. Then again, what did she have to lose?
"The first time, a Master Vampire took a bite out of me and then left me to drown in a pool of water," Buffy stated, her words sounding hollow to her ears, as though she was speaking of someone else - someone not related to the young woman that lay bloody and beaten upon a cold cavern floor. "Xander was able to use CPR to bring me back," she added, a small smile lifting her cracked, bloody lips as she thought of the dear friend that had stood beside her for so many years.
"Was he a wizard? Did he use some kind of magic?" Legolas returned, the conversation helping to distract him from his many hurts.
"Not exactly," Buffy returned with a wry smile. "Xander's a carpenter, a guy who builds houses and boards up broken windows, and CPR... well, I like to think of it as the gift that keeps on giving," she continued with a small snort that quickly transformed into a pained, wracking cough that pushed at her bruised ribs and caused her chest to ache. Grimacing, Buffy waited a moment or two before slowly turning back to the battered elf beside her. "I was only dead for a few minutes that time, but the last time, two years ago, was a bit longer - as in five months longer."
"What happened?"
"Oh, you know," Buffy stated airily as she turned her head to the side. "Just your basic jump into a dimensional portal that was opened by a hell god to save your little sister who isn't really your sister, get fried and put in the ground for your eternal rest that isn't so eternal, only to be brought back by your best friend five months later when she starts playing with dark magicks that she never should have touched." Turning her head a little bit, Buffy caught Legolas' wide eyes and smiled softly as he opened and closed his mouth for several moments, obviously at a loss as to what to say.
"Your friend.. she brought you-"
"In Willow's defense, she thought I was trapped in a Hell dimension," Buffy continued, her smile turning wistful as she once more turned her head to the side so that Legolas' glow softly illuminated the dark walls beside him. "But personally? I think I was in Heaven."
"Heaven?" Legolas queried, his voice growing soft as the darkness and age behind Buffy's gaze were finally explained - at least in part.
"I suppose that it's the human version of your Valinor," the slayer returned, her smile tinged with a sadness that Legolas could relate to as she referred to the Undying Lands that Mirdan had haltingly described to her - a place that he had only visited in his Elvish dreams. "Some people believe that it's where we go when we die. Although all I really remember is how warm I was... so at peace and so... loved," Buffy murmured, her smile growing soft. "There was no one to fight. No one to protect. No one to save. I just was."
For a moment, the silence stretched between them as Legolas closed his eyes against the open, unguarded yearning that was hidden just beyond her green-eyed gaze. In the furthest corners of his mind, he heard the piercing cry of the sea gulls as the waves pounded against the sandy shore, and in that moment, he felt the connection between he and the small woman strengthen. He knew first-hand of the torment that she would live with until her dying day as she was torn between the bliss that called to her soul and the ties that continued to bind her to this world. It was a tug of war that he struggled with each day that he remained in Middle-earth, ignoring the sea-longing that ripped at his heart and begged him to forsake his friends to make his final journey to the Undying Lands. It was a call that he refused to answer until the last of his friends had forsaken this life, and those ties were as strong as the chains that bound him to the cavern wall. He couldn't help but wonder what ties still bound the woman that lay before him, so battered in body, yet strong in spirit as she seemed to shake away her melancholy to grimace at the chains that bound her.
"Unfortunately," Buffy continued, her lips turning down in a small frown, "Willow wasn't supposed to bring me back - or according to some, I guess that I wasn't supposed to die for my sister. Whatever the case, it offset the balance on my world and allowed Evil to take a foothold that caused the deaths of a lot of innocent girls. So, we had to set it right."
"Which is why you are here now," Legolas supplied, his forehead creased as he thought back to the dream which had led him to this point in time.
"Yeah," Buffy agreed, her frown deepening. "Apparently your world is out of balance and I've been sent here to set it right. Although right now," she added as she pointedly looked from where her chain connected her to the cavern floor, "can't really say that the Powers are getting their money's worth."
Noro lim, mellon bain: Ride on, fair friend
Noro lim a revio an Rhosgobel! Ride on and fly to Rhosgobel!
Dartho ah nin: Stay with me