Equinoxium: Chapter 35
by Lisette

Legalese: See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

"Excuse us!"

"Oof!"

"Sorry about that!"

Grunt.

"Oh, was that your toe? My bad!"

"Eeps!"

Sighing in frustration as she was pulled none too gently through yet another crowd of Gondorians, Buffy tugged ineffectually upon her hand which remained trapped in Legolas' tight grip, forcing her to follow in the lithe elf's hurried steps. The trip from her room to the sixth circle of the city had taken forever as both slayer and elf had battled the growing crowds that gathered at the sound of the persistent horn calls. Calls that everyone seemed to recognize but Buffy herself.

"Listen up, people! Mad elf coming through! Back off!" she ground out as she squeezed between wide shoulders and bustling skirts. Yet the crowd took no notice of her and her companion as the gathered people stood on their tip toes and struggled forward, desperately craning their necks as cries of salvation echoed throughout the sixth circle. "I said back-" Buffy began again as she was suddenly pulled free of the crushing mob to find herself standing in an open area that embraced the gate that stood as barrier to the fifth circle. Before her stood Aragorn, Gimli, Thoron and the twins, their eyes turning expectantly towards her as she quickly swallowed the rest of her frustrated cry. Feeling her face begin to burn, Buffy shrugged apologetically before scooting closer to Legolas, just as the guards to the sixth gate stood aside to allow not three, but five different groups to make way into the sixth circle.

Eyes growing wide, Buffy watched as a vaguely familiar man with long, tousled blond hair rode through the gate with a small contingent of men at his side, followed by a troop of hardy dwarves arrayed in sturdy metal armor, axes propped upon their strong shoulders. Behind them rode another tall man of noble bearing, his dark hair tinged with silver that matched his wizened sea-gray eyes, with a small grouping of men who proudly carried a banner that depicted a silver swan-prowed ship on a field of blue. Next came a smaller group of men, their faces stern and their clothing worn and dirty - a stark contrast to the finely arrayed elves that rode alongside them, bearing the green banner of Ithilien.

Laughing joyously, Aragorn strode forward and greeted each of the men like brothers, his eyes dancing with a light that had been absent for several days, while the head of the elven unit bowed formally before Legolas, his hand fisted over his heart. "Okay - what am I missing here?" Buffy whispered as Legolas and Thoron both returned the elf's formal greeting. "Who are these people?" she murmured as she turned to see Gimli animatedly talking with the dwarves in his own tongue while the twins had gravitated towards the men that she recognized as the Dnedain of the North.

"They are our friends," Legolas stated with a broad smile. "That man there is King omer of Rohan, brother to Lady owyn," he explained as he indicated the blond whose armor bore etchings of a white horse on a green field. "With him are Gimli's dwarves from the nearby Glittering Caves. Over there," he continued as he waved towards the regal man with graying hair, "is Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth. He is ruler of the kingdom of Belfalas in southern Gondor and is uncle to Faramir and father to Lothriel, wife of omer. And that..." Legolas trailed off with a small smile as he indicated the final group of men that stood alongside his kin. "Well, I believe that you are already well acquainted with Halbarad and his Rangers," he replied with a brilliant smile.

Pointedly turning from the hardy men before any had a chance to recognize her, Buffy curtly shook her head. "And while I get that they're the good guys, what I don't understand is what they're all doing here - especially since it sounds like they brought friends. As in lots of them," she added as she listened to the noise that drifted from the outer gates of the city, the overwhelming sounds of thousands of horses and men carrying on the brisk winter wind. With a start, Buffy realized that the people of Minas Tirith had been right - these people could very well be their salvation. "I thought that the messages wouldn't be able to reach them in time," she pointed out as Aragorn, having overheard her words, nodded to his friends.

"She is right," he admitted as he turned to omer and Imrahil with curious eyes. "The watch towers were only lit yesterday morn, and the messenger to Belfalas should not even reach Dol Amroth until tomorrow, let alone the messenger that we dispatched to my kin in the north," he added as Halbarad joined the gathering of great leaders. "Not that I am not grateful for your timely arrival, but how can this even be possible?"

Wise eyes gleaming beneath the light of the setting sun, Imrahil turned from his king's wondering gaze and looked to the shadows that settled in the east. "Six days ago I had a dream that foretold of a great darkness that gathered on the doorstep of Minas Tirith," he admitted pensively. "And yet the greater surprise came when I awoke to find a stranger in my chambers."

"A stranger?" Aragorn prompted, his brow creasing in confusion.

"An old man, or so he appeared," Imrahil clarified, the voices of the gathered people falling silent beneath his grave words. "He was bent with age with long hair that lay tangled down his back - an Istar, or so I believe, who bade me to travel with all haste to my king in the North."

Snorting at this revelation, Buffy ignored the curious gazes she drew as she shook her head in wonder at the gall of a certain balance demon. Whistler, costumed as an old man that bore an uncanny resemblance to the Istari that the people of Middle-earth were most familiar, had only paid their group a visit the day before when he had pushed for her friends to return to where they belonged. If he really met with Imrahil six days ago, that meant that the sneaky little demon had set things into motion long before the council in which everything had been revealed and the decision to go to war had been made.

"I received the same visitor over a week ago, bearing the same message," Halbarad admitted with a wry grin as he clapped the older man on the back. "And wizard or no, it is by luck alone that I stayed my hand long enough to hear his tale."

"Luck indeed," omer laughed before shaking his head. "But regardless, it seems the wizard had different plans for me, for while no one has been in my bed chamber save my lovely wife," he explained with a wicked grin at his father-in-law, "I did receive two other visitors just six days past, urging me to ride like the wind to come to Gondor's aid - again," he laughed with a bright smile to his old friend.

Puzzled, Aragorn looked at the younger man in confusion. "Who-" he began as Buffy was rudely shoved to the side as two small beings, one arrayed in armor that bore the crest of Gondor while the other was of Rohan, barreled past them to come to a skidding halt before the king.

"Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took reporting for duty, my lord!" the one clothed in Rohan's armor declared as Buffy stared at the duo in open fascination. It was like seeing her first elf and dwarf all over again as her eyes swept over the little people from the tops of their curly heads to the bottoms of their rather large and hairy bare feet.

"Hobbits," she muttered, recognizing their names from Legolas' stories of Merry and his cousin Pippin - the notorious trouble-makers of the Fellowship of the Ring who were supposed to be safely ensconced in their beloved Shire.

Laughing in delight, Aragorn dropped to one knee and swept both hobbits into a crushing hug. "But how can this be?" he asked as he pulled away, one hand resting on each of their small shoulders.

"I think we received a visit from Gandalf's brother!" Pippin confided in a bright, youthful voice. "Or his cousin perhaps?" he continued with a small frown.

"Whoever he was," Merry broke in as he elbowed his cousin into silence, "he said that you needed our help. Sam wanted to come, too, but Rosie refused to let him go off on another adventure, what with the new baby coming and all. So I'm afraid you're left with just me and Pip."

"And we are all the better for it, dear friends," Aragorn returned with a broad smile. "Especially since you passed through Rohan on the way," he added as he nodded towards omer's men and Gimli's dwarves.

"You don't know the half of it," Pippin sighed as he shot a frustrated look at the dwarves who were standing noticeably apart from the elves of Ithilien.

"We ran into Halbarad and Legolas' elves yesterday," Merry explained, "and it was like traveling with Legolas and Gimli all over again - only multiplied."

"They weren't the overly talkative type," Pippin added in a loud whisper, "what with the dwarves and all, but I think the elves had the same visitor."

Turning to Legolas with a bright grin, Buffy blinked innocently at him. "Do you think we should tell them that they were really visited by a Balance Demon?" she asked as she tried to decide whether she should beat the life out of the balance demon the next time they met for his usual duplicity, or else kiss him for his wonderful meddling.

"Nay, let them think what they may," Legolas countered, his melodious voice catching the hobbits' attention as they turned to him with bright smiles, their youthful eyes darting from the prince to Buffy, who stood out in comparison to her tall and ethereal companions, and back to their friend again.

"What's this, Merry? Has Legolas finally found a girlfriend?" Pippin demanded, his exuberant voice ringing over the other conversations and causing everyone to turn and take notice of the two for the first time.

Feeling her cheeks begin to burn, Buffy quickly stepped away from Legolas' side - wishing all the while that her slayer hearing wasn't so acute to catch the twins' snickering and Gimli's loud guffaws at their expense. Turning to glare at the trio, Buffy instead found a man's chest blocking her view as she arched her neck to meet Halbarad's annoyingly bright eyes.

"Dear Lady Buffy, so good to see you again," he greeted, his voice booming in the quiet circle of friends as he dipped into an oversized bow that forced her to back up until she was once more flush against Legolas' side.

"Halbarad," Buffy returned dryly as she glowered at the ranger. "Still haven't showered, I see," she remarked, immensely enjoying the flush that crept over the ranger's travel-stained cheeks as omer took his place before her, the young king's eyes dancing.

"My lady, 'tis good to see you well once more," he stated as he dipped his head towards her in a nod that caused his tousled locks to tumble boyishly over his features.

"See me well?" Buffy parroted, her brow scrunching in confusion before she finally remembered where she had seen this man before. "Oh," she muttered, cringing at the hazy memories of her first and only trip to omer's golden hall in Rohan. It had been the morning following Vashnak's revelation about the devastating properties of her blood - the same morning that she had been abducted and spirited away to her own personal hell. "Yeah, about that time-" she stammered, but the young king brushed away her apologies.

"Think nothing of it. It warms my heart to see you in safe company once more," he returned graciously, yet despite omer's kind words, whatever mirthful spell had been woven at the reunion of old friends was shattered beneath this subtle reminder as the gravity of the situation was pressed upon the small group. "We encountered little resistance upon the East-West Road," he confided as he turned back to his fellow king, "and the elves spoke of no troubles within the woods of Ithilien."

"Our road, too, was unhampered," Imrahil added as Halbarad nodded his agreement.

"A fact that I find none too surprising," Aragorn admitted as he wearily turned and nodded towards his gathered men - all that remained of Gondor's proud army. Eyes dimming, the group looked upon a number that was halved from the night before. "Vashnak had already gathered his dark-elves and orcs upon us, attacking Osgiliath the night before last before we met them in battle just this past eve."

"We were almost too late," Imrahil murmured as he followed his king's gaze to those that remained of Gondor's proud army - men of all ages, and many of which who bore injury of some sort that they had taken in last night's battle. Yet injured or no, it was clear to all that the soldiers would fight for their king and country this night, or join their brothers and fathers who had already fallen in death.

"Almost, but not quite," omer stated, his voice firm as he squeezed Aragorn's shoulder. "Now tell us quickly about that which we face, for the light is fast fading and battle is in the air."

Nodding grimly, Aragorn beckoned his friends closer as their situation was explained. There was no time for meetings in which strategy could be decided. War was upon them, whether they were ready for it or not, and instead the great leaders were forced to do what they did best: they played to their strengths.

The Men of Gondor, while brave and steadfast in their dedication to fighting this war, had been decimated the night before in a battle that had taken many lives. Only half of their forces remained ready and able to do battle, and unfortunately, due to the even greater loss of their valiant steeds, the Men of Gondor would be fighting this night from the ground upon which they walked.

The Men of Rohan, however, moved as if their horses were an extension to their bodies. Their number totaled near one thousand, all war-hardened from the War of the Ring that had taken place only nine years past.

The soldiers of Belfalas were similarly numbered, their mounts weary from travel and yet still able to bear their riders into the coming battle. Like the Men of Rohan, those that fell under Prince Imrahil's rule carried both swords and shields - both of which they wielded with the experience of many battles fought.

The Rangers of the North, or the Dnedain, as they were known, sat tall upon their elven-bred horses with gray eyes that were hardened in expectation of fighting a darkness that they had battled for all of their many years. They were smaller in number than either Rohan or Belfalas, with only swords and daggers for their defense, yet their bedraggled appearance did little to hide the fire that burned within their steely gazes.

The Dwarves of the Glittering Caves were sturdy, hardy folk that were outfitted with throwing and battle axes that were evenly distributed over their compact forms. Loud and forthright they were, with small, dark eyes that bore out above beards that were long and braided with care. They would battle on foot that night, for no dwarf, save Gimli their Lord, would allow himself to be carried upon a horse's back.

Which of course left the Elves of Ithilien, and Buffy turned her eyes to them next. Tall and beautiful, they sat atop their horses with swords sheathed at their backs alongside quivers of finely crafted arrows, longbows draped over their shoulders. They, like the Rangers and Dwarves, numbered fewer than the others - perhaps five hundred strong - and yet of all, it was the Elves whose eyes burned the brightest this night.

The Dark-Elves, or Mornedhel, while an enemy to all free people of Middle-earth, were a foe that lay like a dark stain against the hearts of the Firstborn. The Orc had revealed for all to see its origins in that which had once been pure, and those who had been changed from Orc into Dark-Elf now wore a face and body that remained a brutal shock to the inherent goodness to be found in the Firstborn. This enemy not only wore their face, but it paraded before them and mocked them with shadowed eyes that revealed naught but darkness and the evil that stood against everything for which the Elves had been created.

Nodding curtly to show his support of the decisions that had been made, Halbarad turned to Buffy with knowing eyes where she stood uncertainly outside their small circle. "I assume that you will be joining us, my Lady?" he asked as he looked pointedly towards the sword that was sheathed upon her back.

"Of course," Buffy returned as her hand instinctively sought the garnet that was hidden beneath the lip of her leather halter, her eyes darting briefly towards Aragorn, hoping that they wouldn't have to suffer through a repeat performance of the argument from the night before. Yet she needn't have worried, for the king had more important matters to worry about as he turned from their small group to meet with what remained of his faithful captains.

"But... but she's just a girl!" a small voice exclaimed, causing Buffy to look down upon the two hobbits with narrowed eyes.

"So was owyn, you twit, and she killed the Witchking!" Merry growled as he rolled his eyes at his cousin.

Frowning, Pippin slowly nodded his head. "Good point," he allowed before smiling brightly at the petite slayer, whose height only topped his by a mere foot in comparison to his other taller companions. "So whose horse shall you be riding?" he asked unabashedly.

Grinning despite herself and the seriousness of the situation, Buffy turned questioningly to the elf at her side. "She shall ride with me," Legolas replied, reading the question in her eyes.

Scratching his head in evident confusion, Pippin turned to his cousin. "But Legolas always rides with Gimli," he muttered, his high voice unwittingly carrying to the dwarf in question. "If Legolas already has a passenger, who then will take Gimli?"

"I do believe that it is Elrohir's turn to take the dwarf," Elladan suggested, his eyes twinkling madly as Gimli's face turned a dark, mottled-red color.

"I'll be walking on my own two feet, thank you very much," Gimli stated. "A dwarf will be foisted on no elf like some unwelcome baggage."

"Now Gimli, you know full well that-"

"Master Brandybuck," omer quickly broke in, his lips twitching in amusement as he tried to speak over the argument that had erupted between the Lord of the Glittering Caves and the Lords of Imladris. "I would be most honored if you would consent to ride with me into battle once more. It has been too long since Firefoot and I have benefited from your company."

"But you just rode with him the whole road from Edoras to Minas Tirith!" Pippin protested, obviously fearing being left behind.

Smiling sympathetically at the small hobbit, Buffy was reminded of her own friends and their indignant protests at ever being left behind and their value overlooked. Then again, from what Legolas had told her of these small beings, the hobbits had come a long way from the timid, gentle creatures that first began their journeys with Frodo and the One Ring. They had been through glorious battles and had emerged victorious over frightening foes. They were even responsible for fighting back the men that had taken control of the Shire, helping to defeat the wizard Saruman once and for all, and all without the aid of their bigger friends.

A fact that Aragorn, too, seemed to remember as he turned to Pippin with a warm smile. "Master Took, would you do your king the honor of joining him upon his own valiant steed in the upcoming battle?"

"My lord," Imrahil cut in, his eyes intently searching those of his king. "You will join us in battle this night? But what of my nephew? Where is Faramir?" he demanded, worry lining his heavy gaze as he obviously noticed the steward's absence for the first time.

"Fear not," Aragorn quickly soothed. "Faramir is well and otherwise occupied with the birth of his fifth child."

For a moment a stunned silence fell upon the small group before omer whooped in a most un-kingly fashion and clapped Imrahil on the back. "My sister is in labor?" he asked, his eyes dancing in delight. "Lothriel will be so jealous to hear that I was able to see our newest nephew before her."

"Nephew?" Imrahil protested, his own features lightening considerably at the joyous news. "How do you know that it will not be a niece?" he countered in amusement.

"Because I already have three nieces. My poor nephew, Boromir, needs a brother to help defend himself from his sisters' wicked ways. I swear that Finduilas is their ring leader and together they conspire against their younger brother."

"Nay, Finduilas is a gentle creature - much like her grandmother-"

Distracted from the fond bickering between the two noblemen, Buffy turned at the soft hand that rested upon her shoulder. "Legolas?" she questioned, her lips turning down in a small frown as she saw the uneasy confusion that shone in his sharp gaze.

"The free peoples of Middle-earth have joined with Gondor to see this new enemy defeated," he murmured, his soft words meant only for her ears.

"Which is generally seen as a good thing," Buffy returned, her frown deepening as she sensed the darkness that weighed upon the elf. "What's with the long features? This is the break that we've been looking for. I mean, with all of the reinforcements, we not only have a chance of surviving this night, but we may actually have a chance of winning this thing."

"I know," Legolas admitted as he turned to his friends with critical eyes before his pensive expression cracked beneath a soft sigh. Quickly shaking his head, he forced a smile. "You are right."

"Of course I'm right," Buffy agreed, hoping her smile would mask her own unease at the foreboding that lingered in the back of her mind like a malevolent shadow. "I'm always right," she continued as she linked arms with the taller elf and began leading him towards where a small stable boy patiently waited with Drlum in hand. "What can I say? It's a gift."

The darkness on the Pelennor Fields was absolute, the black night lessened only by the flickering light of the torches that were scattered amongst the men and by the ethereal glow of the hundreds of elves that formed a long line before them. "Anybody else feeling much better about tonight than last night? Because I'm really feeling the better," Buffy stated with a bright grin as she patted Drlum's dark mane.

For the first time ever, the small slayer sat alone atop the large stallion, merely one amongst thousands of riders that swelled their ranks back to the very gates of Minas Tirith and as far as she could see to either side. The men of Belfalas and their lord, Prince Imrahil, were situated on the right flank while the Rohirrim and King omer with Merry Brandybuck were to her left. Behind her were gathered the mounted Dnedain, while behind them stood the soldiers of Gondor and the dwarves of the Glittering Caves who would be battling from the ground. And before them all, in a symmetry that was impossible to ignore, stood the elves of Ithilien, their bows nocked and ready against the line of dark-elves that faced them across a stretch of bloody land. Behind the mornedhel Buffy knew an army of orcs awaited, as vicious and bloodthirsty as ever, but she couldn't seem to look past the line of dimly glowing elves that faced their dark brethren.

Legolas stood amongst his kin, Thoron to one side and a high-ranking captain on the other. Gimli, she knew, waited behind the Dnedain with his dwarven warriors, while the twins and Halbarad sat upon their steeds beside her. And before them was Aragorn, tall and proud upon his gleaming mount with a glistening circlet upon his brow, Pippin perched behind him. omer and Imrahil had deferred leadership to him, and Gimli and Legolas as well. Together, the men, dwarves and elves were united beneath his banner, ready to follow his lead into the coming battle. Buffy, a natural-born leader herself, understood this even without having seen him in battle. This was a man that had been born for great things. He had returned from the exile of his forefathers in order to unite a scattered nation against unimaginable evil, and he would lead them into victory this same night.

"Now, Legolas!" Aragorn commanded, his voice booming in the still night air.

Taking his cue, the fair-haired elf released his hold on his taut bow string, releasing his arrow into the black night sky. Following his lead, the elves of Ithilien released their deadly hail, a rain of hundreds of expertly crafted arrows falling in a wave upon those they opposed. Immediately the mornedhel sent an answering volley that crested above the line of elves to fall in a torrent upon the mounted men that waited beyond, shields raised for protection.

"For Middle-earth!" Aragorn cried as he dug his heels into his horse's side, urging the beast forward and leading the charge through the line of elves and into the open abyss.

"For Middle-earth," Buffy whispered as horses thundered past her and Drlum, the ground shaking beneath them. "For Middle-earth," she repeated as a slow, confident smile lifted her lips. As chaos ruled the night around her, she was struck anew by the realization of how much change could be wrought in the course of one night. Twenty-four hours ago Buffy had been prepared to ride into a battle that she never expected to walk away from. Twelve hours later the world had been grim, only to be made grimmer when the people of Minas Tirith had turned on her in hopes of finding salvation, only to find death instead. Her blood had killed a man and once more her world had been falling apart - and only a few short hours later, that pain was soothed by the renewal of two friendships she had feared lost forever. That soothing balm was then strengthened when Legolas himself so freely offered her his support while vowing that never again would she be used for the blood she carried. Never again would she be someone else's tool.

In twenty-four short hours the world had turned upon its axis, and in doing so it had gifted them with the very real hope of a future that didn't include naught but pain and death.

"Let's get this party started," Buffy murmured as she tangled her fingers in Drlum's silky tresses, her eyes locked upon the thousands of horses that swept past the line of mornedhel. Breath catching in her throat, her body tensed, Buffy watched as the brave men, led by Aragorn, met the first grouping of orcs and smashed through them. "That's our cue," she muttered as Legolas and his elves ceased their fire for fear of hitting their own men and turned to beckon for their loyal mounts that awaited them.

"Drlum, enni!" Legolas called as Buffy bent over the horse's neck, her knees clenched tight against his flank as the powerful horse surged forward. Eyes locked upon the lithe being, the small slayer secured her position before reaching down to clasp Legolas' outstretched hand as she rode past, aiding him to swing up and before her in an acrobatic feat that would have left her shell-shocked if she wasn't so focused upon the battle ahead.

Now the true fun would begin.

Eyes narrowed in concentration, Buffy sidestepped the dark elf's lethal blow and countered with an elbow to the back of his head that sent the taller being stumbling forward. Pivoting on her heel, the small slayer swiftly followed, her sword held before her in a strong, two-handed grip as the lithe being recovered his balance and turned once more, unwittingly plunging straight into her sword point. Eyes lifting briefly to watch the light fade from his cold gaze, Buffy wrenched the sword from his chest and turned to seek out her next opponent.

As with the night before, the battle had stretched over countless hours already, the shadows of the deepest part of night miring the land in murky darkness. Once more Buffy felt her body wearying from the drain of continual battle, and yet the differences between this night and last were the kind that lent hope to her small frame and allowed her to keep fighting with a gusto that she hadn't experienced in far too long. Last night had been a massacre, but this night, with the Rohirrim, the soldiers of Belfalas, the rangers, the elves and the dwarves all helping the weakened men of Gondor... this night was a war in which her side actually stood a chance of winning. No, not just a chance - more like a certainty.

A smile creasing her dirty features, Buffy took a brief moment to cast her sharp gaze across the bloody Pelennor Fields. Many good men, elves, and dwarves had fallen this night in protection of their world, and yet even in the midst of chaos Buffy could see that this night the greater loss was on the part of the orcs that littered the uneven ground. While it was true that the mornedhel were more deadly than their orc brethren, the fact remained that there were too few of the changed breed. The dark-elves numbered near one thousand, but the combination of men, elves, and dwarves surpassed that number many times over, and with the elves of Ithilien concentrating on the mornedhel, that left the men and dwarves to deal with the orcs they had been fighting for all of their lives. It was a hard, vicious, and trying battle, but one from which Buffy had the feeling that they would emerge victorious.

"Ooh, Merry, I got another one!"

Rolling her eyes as Pippin's exuberant voice carried over the sounds of battle, Buffy risked a quick glance to where the small hobbits battled alongside the group of loyal soldiers that never traveled too far from their king's side. Not that Aragorn needed their protection or aid. With an appreciative eye, Buffy watched as the older man expertly crossed blades with a dark-elf that moved swiftly and with the grace of the firstborn. With quick steps he matched the elf's fleet footwork, his sword catching the low light of the torches that his men had carried and which now lay forgotten upon the muddy field. Not only was this man responsible for uniting this land and holding it together, but he also had the fighting skills to prove that he had earned the winged crown he wore and the country he governed.

"Only one?" Merry returned as he dodged an orc's sword. "Why I've felled at least four orcs, and that was only in the past hour," he boasted as Buffy turned from the small hobbits to find that she had once more lost track of the elf with whom she had been fighting for the past few hours.

"Now where'd he go?" she grumbled as she lobbed off the head of an orc that was fleeing from several rather exuberant dwarves. Ignoring their disgruntled oaths, Buffy turned and scanned those fighting nearby, her frown growing as she found not a single blond head that didn't belong to a man of Rohan. Shrugging, she neatly sidestepped two dueling elves and moved deeper into battle, offering aid when it was needed while in search of her elusive companion. At one point she thought she glimpsed Halbarad's tall, dour frame, and quickly hurried in the other direction before he had a chance to spot her and offer his "aid." Yet it was in turning that she finally found a link to the elf that she was seeking.

"Where there's a Thoron, a Legolas usually isn't too far behind," she mused as she angled towards the older elf, her steps hindered by a rush of orcs that stampeded between her and the advisor, a small team of mounted Rohirrim herding the twisted creatures to where a group from Belfalas awaited. Yet when the mad rush cleared, Buffy saw nothing but a sole dark-elf in the stern elf's place.

Features tightening, Buffy hurried forward, vaulting over the bodies that lay where they had fallen, many piled three or four deep, their black or fair faces locked in grimaces of death. Clearing the corpse of someone's mangled horse, she landed lightly, facing the dark-elf as he raised his sword above him. Following the trajectory of his downward swing, Buffy finally found Thoron amongst the ruin, his body bloodied with his arm raised defensively before him.

"Oh no you don't," she muttered as she altered her course only slightly, throwing herself to her knees and sliding through the churned mud until she came to rest between Thoron and his would-be killer, her sword locking against the one that would have ended his immortal life. Grunting, Buffy arrested the dark-elf's swing and then pushed up, forcing him a step back and giving her time to regain her feet. Then the dance began anew as she parried his powerful strokes, metal clashing against metal until she tired of the game and ended his life in a spray of red blood. Turning, Buffy took a brief moment to assure herself that Thoron wasn't dead, her eyes catching his and reading the surprise found in those ancient depths before she turned away to continue her hunt for the elf's ward.

The battle was going well - amazingly well - and yet the sight of Thoron lying wounded and disarmed upon the ground served to remind her of the foreboding that she had all but forgotten beneath the rush of battle. Suddenly the desire to find her battle buddy was more important than rubbing in the fact that she had just saved Thoron's immortal life. She needed to find Legolas if for no other reason than to assure herself that her truest friend in this world was still alive and kicking dark-elf butt.

Then again, she should have known better than to ever trust in idle assurances.

Like a curtain parting before her, Buffy finally found Legolas amongst those that battled this dark night. His pale skin glowed brightly, causing his hair to shine like the sun as he moved with deadly grace amongst the carnage, opposing the one dark-elf that would forever haunt her sleep. "Vashnak," she muttered, the name a curse as the dark-elf waged war upon his fair-haired opponent.

No, that wasn't right, Buffy realized with a slowly blossoming smile. It wasn't Vashnak who waged war upon Legolas but the other way around. There was a deep-set hatred in the elf prince's normally gentle blue eyes, and he moved in circles around his opponent, his twin daggers finding more flesh than cloth. Unable to look away, Buffy couldn't help but wonder if Vashnak was now regretting when he had gutted the elven prince just a few days past. If the hard set to Legolas' jaw was any indication, he certainly hadn't forgotten. Vashnak had gotten the better of him that day, but the difference was that day hadn't been a fair fight, and as Legolas was so aptly proving, in a fair fight, he clearly would emerge the victor.

Distracted by a flash of movement behind the two combatants, Buffy turned in time to watch one mornedhel break from the other battles that continued to be waged without. She didn't even have time to call out a warning before the new arrival came to Vashnak's aid, drawing enough of Legolas' attention that the original mornedhel was able to land a vicious blow that scattered Legolas' blades and left him defenseless upon the muddied ground.

Without thinking Buffy moved forward, the nameless dark-elf falling beneath her sword strike before she turned to Vashnak and Legolas - and felt the world crumble beneath the unmistakable tableau that was spread before her. It was a scene stolen straight from her dreams, with Vashnak lifting his bow and drawing arrow upon the fallen elf. She knew this scene - she knew how it began, but not how it ended - and while her scattered thoughts wondered on who in their right mind would use a bow in such close battle, her body was already moving as she stepped into the place that was first occupied by her mother, and later Arwen - directly between Vashnak's arrow and Legolas' heart.