Equinoxium: Chapter 15
by Lisette

Legalese: See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings. Additionally, major credit needs to be given to Thundera Tiger for sitting down and figuring out the genealogy of the twins. For the record, they are 25/32 Elf, 3/16 Man, and 1/32 Maia. For the reasoning behind this, just check out her end Chapter Notes in Chapter 17 of her extremely dark but captivating story, "Fear No Darkness."

Cold, wan moonlight drifted down upon the small camp, the glistening silver rays reflecting off the thick, pale-golden canopied boughs of the nearby forest. The night was silent, save for the quiet murmur of the Great River and the dry whispers of the faded leaves as they moved upon the high branches that graced the tall gray trees - trees unlike anything that Buffy had ever seen before, and unlike any that she would ever see again.

Lothlrien.

The realm of the Golden Wood.

The former home of the Galadhrim.

It was an enchanted forest that now stood empty and bare, silent and haunted... a wood that faded from this world in a slow mockery of all that lived and thrived with green life. Legolas had said that the elves had abandoned their home years before, following the Lady of the Wood in the same path that she had tread a year after the War of the Rings had ended. With Lord Celeborn guiding them, and the great Marchwarden, Haldir, and his brothers, Rmil and Orophin, guarding their company, the remaining elves of Lothlrien left their forest for all time as they made their final journey over the sea to a place where the trees would forevermore be green and golden, to where the light would never fade, and to where sadness would never again touch their hearts.

And in their wake, it didn't take an elf to see that the wood mourned their passing.

Camped along the northeastern edge, the river Anduin running between them, Buffy felt a wave of sadness roll over her small frame as she watched the ancient trees. Earlier, when the sun had still been shining, the sight of the woods had soothed her companions. Yet as the sun began to sink behind the Misty Mountains, the group had become more and more melancholy until Legolas had finally broken the suffocating silence with a sad song about the river that ran through the gray trees.

The melody had been beautiful and haunting - perfectly suited to the strange woods. However, it was the words that caused Buffy's heart to clench even now. The story that had been laced amongst the clear notes had been about an elf maiden known as Nimrodel and of her love, Amroth, and of how she became lost in the mountains and never made it to the ship that was to carry them to Valinor. When the ship set sail without her, Amroth then dove into the water, determined to return to his love... and neither were heard from again.

Legolas had fled from the camp even as the last verse hung in the quiet night, his light feet carrying him downriver and presumably into the forest itself, with Thoron quick on his heels. For a moment, Buffy had merely watched them go before she once more turned her eyes to the trees. While the story of Nimrodel and Amroth was sad, thanks to modern cinema, Buffy's world had its fill of tragic love stories... she had even played into the trap of Romeo and Juliet-esque forbidden love when she had fallen in love with Angel. Yet with the forest looming just across the river and as the shadows began to stretch over the land, she found that the elves' mood was infectious. The air felt different here - heavier and filled with so much sadness and grief - and the dark woods seemed so very still and empty... so devoid of life.

Unconsciously, Buffy found her thoughts wandering back to that long night that she had been chained upon the earth, surrounded by orcs while her body had been bent and broken by pain and suffering. In one of the rare moments in which she and Legolas had been left alone, the elf had sought to distract them both from their misery as he told her of a great elf that had once stated that the time of Elves was over, and that it was now the time of Men. She was sure that he had meant the words to give her the strength to endure what was to come. Strangely, though, the thought had saddened her. Traveling amongst the Firstborn, it was easy to forget that the Eldar were fading from this world - easy to forget that much of their kin had already departed from these shores. Lothlrien, however, turned out to be a stark reminder of the truth of these words. According to her companions, once this place had been one of the strongest, most well-protected dwellings of the elves. Now, it was naught but an empty forest, fading into the twilight.

"Why do you stay?" Buffy asked, breaking the heavy silence as her green eyes swept over their small camp. Elladan and Elrohir looked up from where they were gathered together, sitting side by side as they repaired the arrows that had been spent during the battle with the overgrown hyenas earlier that afternoon. Across from them sat Mirdan, his brown eyes heavy with thought as he turned away from the meat that was cooking over the small fire. "I mean, I get that Legolas stays for his friends, and I even understand why Thoron's sticking around... but what's your story?" she persisted, looking back and forth between the three elves.

Mirdan's eyes drifted to the darkened forest for but a moment before he resolutely returned his attention to the cooking meat. "It is not yet my time to leave these shores," he stated, his words clipped and inviting no further comment.

Frowning, Buffy let his explanation slide as she then turned her attention to the twins that continued to look into the forest, their dark gazes filled with sadness and longing. "And you two?"

"We have not yet made our choice," Elladan stated, forcing his eyes to return to the fletching that he was repairing, his long, nimble fingers flying across the smooth wood.

"Your choice?" Buffy parroted as she settled beside the fire. "What choice?"

Smiling slightly, Elrohir turned his eyes from the the borders of his mother's kin and shrugged lightly. "We are what is known as Half-Elven," he began as his hands began toying with the arrow that he had been fixing.

"Does this have anything to do with your uncle marrying into my race and creating the rangers?" she asked, her brow wrinkling as she recalled Legolas' hasty explanation of what made the Dnedain different than normal men.

"Not exactly," the younger twin remarked, his smile faltering beneath the oppressive weight of Lothlrien. How a wood that was once so beautiful and full of life - a place in which all of your worries would instantly melt away - could now cause such grief and sadness... "Long ago our great-great-great grandfather married a Maia," he murmured, his eyes never once straying from the place of his mother's birth. "Because of that union, their descendents were granted a choice between the way of Elves or that of mortal Men. Their daughter, for example, married a Man and chose to become mortal to follow in his fate, while her son in turn chose the fate of the Eldar - and so had each of their children's children until our uncle, twin to our father, chose the Fate of Men. You are correct in that the Dnedain come from his line, as do the great Kings of Nmenor, the Kings of Arnor, as well as the current King of Gondor, our foster-brother and our sister's husband, Estel."

Buffy followed his gaze into the dark night as the name Estel triggered a memory. She had heard that name before... when Legolas had been telling her about his friend, the man who goes by so many names - and the person that he was taking her to see. Yet the frown deepened as she recalled everything she had learned about this Man, from his elvish upbringing to his many years as a Ranger in the Wilds of the North... and to the wife that had loved him so deeply that she had given up her immortality to stay by his side. "So your sister has already made her choice," Buffy hazarded, watching as Elladan flinched at her observation, even as Elrohir turned away with a soft sigh.

"She has," he admitted as he looked once more upon the faded wood. "The Evenstar has chosen a mortal life and will fade into the death of Men," he stated, his voice softening at the rather bleak proclamation. "In time, my brother and I must either choose to follow in the steps of our father or our sister - and be forevermore separated from those we choose against."

"Oh," Buffy murmured, immediately wishing that she had never asked as her own losses swelled from her broken heart. She had already lost her mother to death, her father to neglect, and now Giles as well. The knowledge that if only they were elven-born, if instead of dying and being thus separated from those she loved, there existed a place like Valinor in which she could spend eternity with her friends and family, forever free from death or hurt or pain...

Frowning, Buffy quickly shook her head as she realized what an unfair comparison she was making. There was no way that she could possibly relate to the decision that was put before Elladan and Elrohir. Yes, it sucked beyond the telling to know that her mom and Giles were dead, but at least Buffy had the comfort of knowing that when she died, she would be going to a place where she would have all of those things and more. She had been to Heaven once and already knew that it was a place that was everything that Valinor promised to be... only in a less corporeal sense. And when you were reunited with your family, what did a body matter? They would be free there; free from death, free from hurt, free from pain...

Free from fighting.

She knew all of these things because those were the reasons that it was so hard for her when she was brought back. What was worse than being sent from this world was having a taste of paradise only to have it taken away and being forced to find meaning in a world that was so harsh - so brutal. She was forced to find meaning in the mundane as she struggled for purpose. But she had found her purpose, and she had dealt with the blows that life had given her.

Her mom was dead.

Giles was dead.

Her friends were gone.

Sunnydale was gone.

She was in a world that she was slowly adapting to, with creatures that she was beginning to think of as friends, and the best part was that when this fight was over, Buffy had to believe that she was going to find her way back to that special place where she could once more be warm, happy, and loved by everyone that she so missed. Whistler had torn out a large, bleeding chunk of her heart when he had forced her to leave her world. The wound ached, it throbbed, and it bled freely with every beat of her hurting heart... and yet it was a wound that could be made whole when her time finally came.

Elladan and Elrohir didn't have this luxury.

Their sister and their foster-brother would most likely go to that heavenly, warm place that Buffy barely remembered - safe together in eternity. Yet by their very nature the Eldar were truly a race divided from Men for after this world, their paths would never meet again. The firstborn were not meant for death. They were meant for the peace of Valinor - a land where death never came visiting - and even if by some misfortune or fell deed, death did find them before that time, their souls were then housed in the Halls of Mandos, a place that would keep those of Elvish descent alone until they reclaimed their bodies in Valinor, or else awaited the end of time within its halls. This separation between father and son or brother and sister would be forever.

And forever truly was a very long time.

"So this is Rohan," Buffy stated two days later from atop Drlum's broad back, her hands lightly entwined around Legolas' slender waist as her eyes took in the softly rolling, grassy hills of the Downs. "Very Little House on the Prairie," she remarked as her sharp gaze swept over the country that gave an all new definition to the word 'open.' To her right she could barely make out the dark edges of yet another forest - Fangorn, according to Legolas - while to the left the land rose steadily as it became lost in shadows. And before them... before them the Downs folded ever up until they opened into the bleak, treeless hills that marked the beginning of the Wold. All in all, Buffy found the land to be rather depressing and she couldn't help but wish for the familiar rushing of the river that had been their constant companion for days now.

"Do not fret overmuch," Elladan teased, riding up beside them and smiling as he saw her dismay. "Rohan is large and this is but a small portion of what she has to offer. The Mark is home to the Horse-lords and their lands are vast and open, the Men brave and true. And if I am not mistaken," he added, his smile turning coy as he nodded to the beautiful blade that was sheathed upon her back, "they are also the crafters of the sword that you carry."

"By tomorrow night," Elrohir continued in that way that was unique to twins, "you will see that the Wold shall fall into the plains of East Emnet, divided from the West by the River Entwash."

"Which means that I have to wait until tomorrow night before I can get clean again," Buffy returned, her expression dimming further as she released her hold on Legolas long enough to pull her hair back in a loose twist, jabbing a piece of a broken arrow shaft amongst the tangled blonde tresses to hold it in place.

"Longer, I'm afraid," Legolas corrected as they continued to climb the low grade to the beginning of the Wold, their campsite for the night. "We will not reach the River Entwash until it bisects with a small copse of trees three days hence. Until then, I am afraid that you shall have to endure as all travelers are forced to when voyaging through these lands. Although," he added, his eyes never straying from the hills before them, "I am surprised that you would be so eager to return to the water's edge after your many complaints this morning and then later this afternoon."

Rolling her eyes, Buffy ignored the remark as she turned her eyes to the open wastelands. Their progress had been much slower than usual that day as they had been forced to ford two rivers in order to continue their southerly route. The first had been that morning when Legolas revealed that, unlike back at the Enchanted River, this time there wasn't going to be a pretty elven bridge. Instead, the small group had been forced to wade across the great Anduin at the lowest point they could find - which was fine for the elves, seeing as how the water only came to their thighs, but for Buffy, she soon found herself submerged well above her hips in the freezing water. That had been bad enough, but her curses had only gotten louder when, just a few hours past, they had come upon yet another river that needed to be crossed. This one, the River Limlight, was arguably a stream in comparison to the Anduin - and yet it was deep enough that Buffy was forced to swim the narrow width - much to her companions' evident amusement.

"You shall have to teach me some of the phrases that you were using," the blond continued as he guided the large horse up the broad hill with the gentle pressure of his knees, his blue eyes twinkling. "I believe that even Gimli's most colorful expressions somehow pale when compared to your... rather imaginative pairings. Tell me, what did you mean by 'the Power-That-Be's butt-monkey'?"

"Use your imagination and I think you'll figure it out," Buffy drawled, refusing to rise to the elf's bait as Mirdan joined in the light-hearted teasing.

"I, myself, have been pondering the meaning of your rather vehement curses against the 'feather monkeys'," he admitted as he arched a fine brow at the petite blonde.

Flushing, Buffy looked away from Mirdan's piercing gaze. Even if they didn't have monkeys here in Middle-earth, from the way that the slender, brown-haired elf was looking at her, she had the sinking feeling that she had been glaring at her companions a little too much at the time to not realize that she had been referring to them.

Laughing at the pink tint to Buffy's tanned cheeks, Elrohir gently nudged his brother as he indicated the prince's riding companion. "Elladan, I do believe that this is the first time that I have seen her so quiet."

"Perhaps it is the first time for you," Thoron cut in as he pointedly turned his eyes from the younger elves with whom he traveled, "but if anything, since you two have joined our little company, she has been anything but quiet. I miss the-"

Yet the rest of the advisor's words were drowned beneath Legolas and Mirdan's admonishments and the twins' indignant exclamations about the obvious joys that their company brought to others. Buffy, however, ignored everyone as she pondered Thoron's words - and frowned when she realized that he had a point. Not only had she become more vocal and animated as the days crept past, but she also found herself becoming more and more like the girl she had been before her mother had gotten sick and less like the hardened woman that she had become when it seemed as though the world was on a continual slide towards darkness. She had always attributed her more reserved nature to growth and maturity, but now she couldn't help but wonder if perhaps her spirit wasn't just being slowly smothered beneath the heavy weight that she had always carried as the Slayer - the one that had only grown heavier and more difficult to bear with the passage of each year.

But here?

Now?

Shaking her head, Buffy finally understood what she had subconsciously realized all along - and that was that for the first time in seven years, excluding her five-month foray into Heaven... the weight was gone.

In Middle-earth, Buffy may still have been a Slayer, but she was a Slayer that had been banished from her world to a place that required very little of her, if nothing at all. During the day she traveled. During the night she slept. She would spend hours conversing with her elvish companions, learning their lore, and occasionally they would ask her to share tales or songs of her world. Yet that was all that they ever asked from her. When evil threatened their party, she took up arms and battled the darkness - but not as the one girl in the world that had been Chosen to do so. Instead, she was merely one warrior amongst many, not fighting to save the world, but to protect her small party.

The change was... liberating.

If this was all that Middle-earth required of her, perhaps Whistler deserved less of her curses than she had anticipated.

The deluge came, warm and unforgiving as it scattered its red torrent upon the broken earth. He could feel the thick warmth as it congealed in his blond tresses, matting hair and sliding down his face, coating his features as it dripped down the arch of his neck and drenched his body in blood. It was a tempest that stung his eyes and caused his heart to ache as the world became lost in a grayish gloom, the sun and moon balanced upon the horizon to the west and east, battling between the darkness and the light.

Crying out, his voice mingled with that of every living creature on Arda as the grayish gloom ensnared their world, drowning them in blood as their cries turned into screams of agony and horror, screams that drove through his sensitive ears like sharp spikes that fractured his thoughts and sent him tumbling to his knees. There was darkness here - darkness battling the light and he knew that there was something to be learned - something to be garnered from this deluge of blood, yet he couldn't think; he couldn't learn with this agony pressing upon his every sense.

He pressed his hands against his delicately pointed ears as, with eyes squeezed shut, he tipped back his head, the crimson flood pouring down his upturned face. He opened his mouth and screamed his torment aloud - and froze as his single scream pierced the air and shattered the cries of those suffering around him, a thick silence falling upon the world.

Startled, he pulled his hands from his ears as his eyes flew open, only to find that the wood had been replaced by the vast Pelennor Fields that spread out from the base of Minas Tirith of Gondor, his friends and allies standing beside him in a world that was shrouded in shadows. Slowly coming to his feet, he found Aragorn and Gimli standing beside him, dressed for battle with their faces tense and set. To either side of them stood Faramir and omer and Elladan and Elrohir. And behind them...

Behind them stood an army - more than an army.

Behind him and his friends stood the combined forces of Gondor and Rohan, the elves of Ithilien, the dwarves from Aglarond, as well as the Dnedain from the North - and all stood unmoving with their backs to the White City, their faces looking forward.

Turning, he cast his sharp sight across the vast fields and gasped aloud at the dim makings of a dark army that faced them. It was an army borne out of shadows, one that he could not clearly discern their make, yet an army all the same. And by the grim countenance of his friends, he knew without doubt that it was an army that threatened all free people of Middle-earth, and therefore, his enemy.

Suddenly the troops around him came alive as they began to shift uneasily, their hands tightening around their weapons as their voices carried softly to one another. Curious, he turned towards the shrouded army of darkness and felt his breath hitch in his throat as exactly halfway between their forces and the enemy stood a small, cloaked figure that was familiar to him. Frowning, he tried to place the slight creature that stood unmoving on that thin, invisible line, its back toward him and its face looking towards the darkness.

"Bring it down, Legolas," Aragorn whispered as he looked towards him, his gray eyes flat as steel.

Automatically he reached for his longbow, draped as always across his back - only to still his hands as something deep within his heart bade for him to pause.

"Kill it!" Aragorn hissed, his words somehow striking a memory just beyond the elf's reach as he was once more spurred to action, quickly fitting the thin shaft of an arrow to the bow string with an ease borne from over five centuries of experience. Without thought he pulled the string taut and held it against his cheek, his eyes never straying from the cloaked figure.

And yet once more he paused. There was something not right in this; something terribly wrong that was just beyond his grasp.

"Kill it Legolas, before all our hard work is lost!" Aragorn urged, his voice now becoming tinged with panic as his hard expression softened into the friend that he had long known - had long traveled with in the wilds of this world. Gone was the stern king and all that was left was the young ranger that had toiled in dirt and shadows for this world, and for the crown he now wore upon his head, and for the white tree that was stitched upon his standard and burned into his black armor. This was his friend. This was Aragorn. The elf had never questioned the man's wisdom before, and he would not dishonor their long, cherished friendship by doing so now.

With his next exhalation, a moment that stretched for an eternity, he released his hold and watched as his arrow flew across the vast fields - and then felt the earth plummet from beneath him as the creature finally turned. With small, delicate hands the cloaked hood was pushed aside, allowing a fanning of golden blonde hair to fall free to frame an oval face, hiding the round arch of small ears, and glistening around twin eyes of green that met his across the distance.

"Buffy," he whispered, the name a choked plea as his arrow flew true and pierced tan leather and flesh, causing her-

"We are under attack!"

Sitting bolt upright on his bed roll, Legolas heard Thoron's repeated warning and the panicked, urgent words of his companions as though from a great distance as fog encased his mind and hindered his sluggish frame. The coppery taste of blood was upon his tongue, sharp and bitter to his buds as he lifted his wide blue eyes to the chaos that erupted form the shadowed night.

The sky was dark, the moon hidden behind thick clouds that obscured the distant light of the stars, and yet the roaring fire and the soft light of elvish bodies were more than sufficient to illuminate the large, lumbering creatures that advanced upon their small camp. "Trolls," he murmured, his beleaguered mind vainly trying to process the impossibility of what threatened their small company. "Hill trolls... in Rohan?" he muttered, his voice echoing his confusion as he hastily reached for his weapons, the sounds of battle already being waged about him echoing in his ears.

"I tell you, Mirdan, your company invites disaster!" Elrohir called out, his voice lacking the sharp bite of accusation as he rolled beneath the heavy swing of a troll's large club.

"Ai, do not cast your blame upon me!" Mirdan grunted as he forced his sword past the thick hide and into the back of the lumbering beast. "I have traveled these lands for close to three thousand years and never have I seen a voyage so marked with disaster!" he added as the troll roared its pain aloud before swiping a meaty paw at the tall elf. "Besides, you and your brother are now apart of this company as much as I!"

"Well don't look at me!" Buffy panted as she swung her sword as though she was Jackie Robinson lining up for a winning run. "I'm just along for the ride!" she retorted as she danced around the troll.

Yet look Legolas did, his eyes narrowed and his mind only half on the troll that he, Thoron and Elladan struggled against as the dream continued to haunt his waking mind. It had been many days since he had last given much thought to the nightmare that had plagued his troubled sleep and his waking mind for months before making this voyage - the dream that had disappeared without trace the day that he and the others witnessed Buffy's arrival in Middle-earth. And now the dream had returned - with a vengeance, it seemed, and there was no longer any denying Buffy's role in his sleep's troubled state.

Somehow she was the one that stood between their army and that of darkness. She was the one whose blood Aragorn begged him to spill in order to thwart the equinox... in order to off-set the balance in favor of the sun.... the light. She was the one who brought darkness upon their-

"Mirdan!" Buffy cried out as she shoved the elf out of the way of a swinging club, only to take the hit in his place as her small body was tossed into the shadows.

"Buffy!" Legolas cried, the dream once more forgotten as the elf prince abandoned the fight and raced into the dark night. Panic squeezed his heart tighter than any vice as his sharp eyes pierced the dark shadows until they lit upon the small figure that lay in a twisted heap upon the ground, his glow reflecting off long, golden strands of hair. "Buffy, are you-" he began as he fell to his knees beside her, his frantic hands wrapping around her slender shoulders and helping to ease her against him.

"I'll live," Buffy groaned as she leaned against Legolas' chest, one hand lifting to gently finger her recently-mended ribs. "And nothing seems to be broken," she added, grimacing at the familiar, fiery waves of pain that radiated from each probing touch against bruised flesh. "Which is lucky for Big, Slow and Ugly," she added as she pulled away from the worried elf, her eyes narrowing into slits as she glared back to where all four elves now converged upon the remaining troll. "I would have been so pissed if he had broken them again..." she vented as she struggled to her feet, reclaimed her fallen sword, and hurried back into battle, leaving Legolas to crouch alone amongst the long grasses, his eyes locked on the small woman.

On her world she had been Chosen to fight the evil that inhabited her world - to stand alone before the darkness and hold it at bay so that others could live unencumbered by such dark times. On his world, she did no less as she fearlessly fought against anything that would dare threaten any of his companions, selflessly putting herself in harm's way time and time again. She was more than a Shield-Maiden. She was a warrior - a warrior of light, and though Legolas knew that someone somewhere was trying to deliver a message to him, it was a message that he had not the information to understand. A warning that he couldn't heed.

Thus, he would wait. Elves were infinitely patient and he would endure these night terrors, learn from them, and in time... perhaps in time he would have his answers. Perhaps in time he would understand Aragorn's words. And perhaps in time he would learn what he needed in order to thwart the fate that someone had set before him. Perhaps in time he would be able to save them both.