I CAPTURE THE SUN

Pairings: Buffy/Legolas

Teaser: Buffy ends up in Heaven, which happens to be Middle-Earth. But not everything is as heavenly as it seems as she's come in the middle of a war and finds a piece of Heaven worth fighting for.

Summary: Buffy's version of Heaven is Middle-Earth. When she arrives, she is brought to a clan of fighting women. Seeing this as her eternal reward for fighting and killing on Earth, Buffy is only too happy to return to her roots - until she is captured by the Elves and begins to learn there's a whole lot more worth fighting for... in Heaven.

Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer belongs to Joss Whedon. The 'Lord of the Rings' book series belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien. The plot is (hopefully) my own.

Timeline: The story is currently set approximately fifty years before the start of the Fellowship. Buffy has been in Middle-earth for roughly twenty-three years.

Gratitudes: Thank you for the rather large number of reviews for a rather short section. I will say that currently this story is rounding out between 18 and 20 chapters and will incorporate both the world of Middle-earth and (eventually) Sunnydale. So, listing you off because of my gratitude, special thanks to (in the order to which you reviewed), Jules, zayra (I hope it stays that way), Anonymous, Anna (I went back to correct the error, thank you for telling me!), BuffyandDracoLover, Renna (I'm not sure about the whole perfect-together theme, but they are so much fun to read), txalb, GwEnDoLyN P. MaLfOy (Those are the ones I have not yet had a chance to read; I am mostly a Buffy/LOTR crossover kind of lady), goldenshadows, CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur (you have such a fun name) and sweetypie15.

Part Summary: Buffy finds herself trapped in a hell-like situation while the Mirkwood Elves investigate a disaster that left most of a village of women dead.

Part Warning: Violence and torture lie ahead.

Those with the feint of heart return.

For our Slayer has for certain bled.

And her hopes are ready to burn.

- - - - -

Part II

- - - - -

Buffy wasn't aware she still had legs after the hours upon hours of being forced to walk on them, her hands bound by some sort of mail painfully behind her. The whip they kept using to get her to move was biting painfully into her stinging skin, which after hours of relentless beating had finally started to bruise and bleed. If that hadn't been bad enough, there were also the other methods of torture. One of the Orc had come to her, forcing her to drink the blood from their spiked canteen until she had retched the horrid tasting liquid from her mouth, along with the little she had eaten for dinner. Being hit across the face at every available moment didn't help, and she knew from the fact her head had collided with a rock that she had cracked something. There was also the issue of the clotted wound at the base of her skull, which she supposed happened when they knocked her unconscious with their hammers.

She didn't need to be a genius to know they were taking her to Dol Guldur.

Still, they made her walk on her bruised feet, removed of boots. Forced to walk barefoot where the ground was cutting and biting into her feet did not make her a happy Slayer.

This was her hell; she was being forced to endure torture after death, which is something she had never wanted nor asked for, and the Powers were going to suffer tremendously for dumping her in a previous world that had such horrible terrors.

Or maybe it had been she who had chosen this life. She had, after all, chosen to fight when she could have blissfully ignored the perils of this world and walked the world alone. But Buffy had already lived the isolated life. She didn't intend to have her afterlife be something like her real life, and had chosen to stay in the village which had rescued her.

Twenty years later, she had just lost out on the worst part: most, if not all of the women would have died in that fight. They hadn't been as prepared as she had thought. It scared her, knowing how many women could have died and she did not want to have that blood on her hands. But it already was, in this so-called Heaven. At least the village was far enough away from the circle of protection in the woods. There was still hope that the men and children had survived even if the women had not.

She walked on, not trying to dwell how completely miserable they were making her Afterlife, trying to break her down. Buffy Summers didn't break easily. She hadn't as a leader of a bunch of women, nor was she about to break as a prisoner of stinking rot. They could chain her, beat her and whip her, but she would never yield. She couldn't die again, since she was already dead, and that thought wasn't comforting.

There were worse things than death.

- - - -

Siri pushed herself up to a sitting position, one hand cradling her aching head and the other arm tucked beside her from being twisted and broken. She cried out, one of the only voices heard in the eerie silence. She glanced up at the darkness above her and sighed as she struggled to her feet. As she did, a body fell from her legs and onto the ground. With a gasp, she leapt back as the wide, open gaze of one of the women she had so vehemently called the village of her own was staring lifelessly up at her.

"Oh," she said softly as she glanced around. She had never realized how alone she felt. "Hello?" she called out, stepping over the woman's body and twisting this way and that to peer into the darkness. "Hello?"

She was greeted by naught but silence. Letting out a small, wounded sound, she gingerly stepped into the circle of light coming from the stars above. "Is anyone alive?" she asked, in a voice lacking energy and hope. She didn't know what to do in this case. There were bodies everywhere. The ground was bathed with deep red and shiny black blood.

"Buffy," she whispered, glancing hither and thither as she circled around the camp. "Buffy!"

She rarely used the name of the woman who led them. She didn't have much use for it. Buffy had been a thorn in her inheritance, but more than ever, she wished the older woman was present. She had never felt more alone. There was little they could do until morning, and while she rested, maybe some of the others would come to. She knew she was grasping at straws by pretending that anyone else could be alive after such massacre, but she had to trust in hope, for there was little else to trust in.

She tried to focus on their leader. The last glimpse she had was of Buffy fighting off a large hoard of Orc while being dragged backwards against them. If she was dead, she had gone down fighting. Siri wasn't going to even pretend to be shocked about that; Buffy had proven herself more than once. She had led them from the beginning, when there had been so many enemies wishing to wipe out a small colony of women. She only hoped the rest of the village was still in tact, leagues into the woods.

She slowly crept onto one of the broken rope ladders and forced herself to climb to the top, cradling her wounded arm to her. As soon as she reached the burnt-out hull of the landing, she retreated to the cracked railing and gazed out over the camp, scanning for any signs of life or movement. There was nothing to even suggest anyone could have survived. Letting out a whimper, she sat down on the landing, feeling her heart sink into the pits of her stomach.

Closing her eyes against the rise of nausea from the pain in her body, she leaned her head back against the trunk of the tree, forcing herself to take deep, even breaths. Forcing herself to think positively despite the fact she desperately wanted to sleep, she kept her eyes on the ceiling and tried more labored breathing. She was feeling so exhausted… but the people in the village needed to be warned that the outward post had been destroyed and their leader, the leader of the group of women and the leader of the village, was more than likely dead.

Siri had wanted the authority. She just didn't want it to end this way. She wanted Buffy here, because Buffy would know what to do. She had led them through massacres and disasters. She had always been strong enough to pull everyone together in a crisis. Siri didn't know where to begin.

At last she fell asleep.

Only to awaken several hours later by the feel of a cool hand on her flushed face. Siri's eyes flew open, expecting to see Buffy sitting above her. She was most relieved when she saw one of the Amazons staring at her.

"Siri?" the soft voice asked.

"I am here, Mauve," she said, sitting up and feeling even sicker than the night before. The sunlight was so bright in the sky as she tried to push herself into the corner into the shadows.

"You're hurt," Mauve continued, gently reaching for Siri, who hissed in pain. Lifting a bit of linen, she tenderly bound Siri's twisted arm.

"I believe it is only broken," Siri moaned.

"Mauve!" a voice shouted far below. "There is movement in the woods!"

Mauve made the call for arms. Siri tilted to the side, feeling her consciousness slip again. As Mauve made her way to the bottom, women emerged from the trees, armed. A small party had already left to inform the village of the attack, and the bodies of the dead women, Meira included, had been buried beyond their sight.

What passed through the trees surprised even them.

They were Elves, on horseback.

Mauve lifted her bow and held her arrow taught as the rest of the women followed suit. "Halt!" she said commandingly. "Why do you pass this land? It belongs to the Lady of the Shadow."

"We have come to seek the Lady," said the first Elf, gliding off of his horse and approaching Mauve, his hands raised. "Please, we do not wish for hostility."

Mauve lowered her bow and nodded. "Very well. Lower your arms," she said, ordering the other women to stand down.

"We must speak with your Lady, for we fear she will be attacked by the forces of Dol Guldur."

"I wish you would have been here last night when the attack came," Mauve snapped. "We lost thirty six good women, and another fifty have been wounded. Do you come to bring us other late tidings, or do you just wish to bandy words?"

"We wish to speak with your Lady," the Elf continued.

"Oroduín," said another quiet voice as another Elf approached. He glowed ethereally in the brilliant sunlight, making his skin look as though it were burning from within.

"Who are you?" one of the other lieutenants asked. Mauve felt the woman tense, her bow still held tightly in her grasp.

"You're him, aren't you?" a voice asked from above them. Siri was hanging off the landing, laughing wildly. "The very one we intended to see for dead and he has just come into our camp to make peace?"

"You know nothing of what we have been through," Mauve said quietly to the Elves. "Our… Lady, she has disappeared. We can only fear she is dead or captured."

"To hear of her capture is ill-news indeed," said the glowing Elf, frowning slightly. "Of myself, I am named Legolas."

"The Prince," Siri's voice spat out. "The Prince has finally come for mercy when our leader has disappeared. How do we know you did not take her?"

"Siri, do not speak!" Mauve said, lifting her hand. "I was Buffy's second lieutenant, and you are wounded. Desist talking, please."

"Is she wounded," the Elf called Oroduín asked briskly.

"Her arm is broken and she suffers from ills in the head," Mauve replied.

As two Elves broke off from their party to bring Siri down, she shrieked and kicked out at them. "Be gone! Demons, stay away from me!"

"She has trust issues with the Elf-kind," Mauve told Legolas and Oroduín under her breath. "They… they killed her family."

"I understand," Legolas said, with surprising persistence of vision. "Do you have other wounded?"

"They were taken by the other posts to the village," Mauve replied.

"Why are you telling them this?" Siri shouted from above. "They are demons, all of them! If you tell them, they will only bring you death faster."

Mauve closed her eyes. Siri's complaining was really trying on her patience. "Siri, stop talking!" she snapped, turning around to face the figure twelve feet above. "Buffy is gone and is no longer our leader! You have been wounded and are most likely ill in the head. I do not trust your judgment Siri. I cannot trust your judgment. These Elves can help us."

"They killed my family!" Siri screamed, just as the two Elves came at her from above and lifted her up, and screaming brought her to the ground. Siri fell unceremoniously at their feet and glared up at Mauve. "You have betrayed Buffy. You have betrayed us all. You are nothing but an elf-loving whore. I do not see why Buffy trusted you with her life."

"As though she could ever trust you?" Mauve asked tightly.

"I would not betray her to these… these beings!" Siri snapped, sluggishly getting to her feet and turning to the Elves, bitterness and contempt flashing in her dark eyes. "Buffy was above them. She will come for us."

"She is likely dead," the lieutenant to the left of Mauve said quietly. "We found her sword. She was not among the women we found amongst her."

"Why did you want to see her?" Mauve asked, bringing her gaze back to Legolas. "You know she would kill you had she the chance."

"We had come to bring her warning against an imminent attack," the golden-haired Elf replied. His piercing cerulean eyes took in Mauve's haughty gaze and Siri's distrustful one. "Will you be able to care for your wounded? Do we need assistance?"

"Even if we needed it, we would never ask an Elf," Siri snapped, turning on her heel and pushing her way through Mauve's archers.

"Nay, lord," Mauve said, lowering her eyes and bowing her head slightly.

"We will assist and find your Lady," Legolas replied. "My King has reasons to speak with her."

Siri stopped cold. "Your… King?" she asked, turning, her eyes glittering in the darkness. In her mind lay the plan for destroying the Mirkwood Elves once and for all. If Buffy were to be captured by these… Elves, their plan could be put forth. "Very well," she said silkily, moving back to the circle of Elves, ignoring the penetrating gazes of both Legolas and Oroduín. "We could use assistance in helping to retrieve her from the Orcs," she said commandingly. "If you wish to bring her to your King, we have no objections."

Mauve, who had been present when the plan to cleanse Dol Guldur had been announced, turned to Siri, suspicion flashing in her own blue-grey gaze. Siri ignored her and bowed her head mockingly. "Now, Elves, get out of here before the rest of our posts come. We will fall back to the village, so worry not about our condition. I will take command, and Mauve with me. Our Lady's fate shall be in your immortal hands."

As Legolas turned to Oroduín to discuss her proposal, Mauve leaned close to Siri. "What are your intentions, Siri?"

"If our Lady goes before the King, the kingdom of the Elves will fall," Siri said, her face shining with anticipation. "This attack on our encampment has proven more fruitful than I deemed possible."

"Many women died," Mauve snapped. "If you had partaken in any of the burials…"

"It matters not," Siri said slyly, watching as Oroduín stepped forward to address her.

"We will ride at once," he said, bowing at the waist before he and Legolas returned to their horses, drawing north.

"So shall we, Mirkwood," she said, watching as the ethereal beings disappeared into the forest. "The next time I see thee, Legolas of the Woodland Realm, it will be your head on my Lady's spear delivered to me, as I have dreamt about night after night. The next time I shall lay eyes upon you, Elf… you will be dead, and I will rejoice."

- - - - -

It took a rather short amount of time, considering all of the walking they'd put her through, to finally reach the Dark land of Dol Guldur. As they marched her to the gates, they announced they had a gift for the warden in their tongues of Black.

"Tell our Lord we have brought him a mighty gift," one of the Orcs snarled, and grabbing the chain connecting to the tie around her neck, Buffy flew forward and landed on the ground in front of the wardens, who looked at her in surprise.

"It is a woman," said the warden, sounding sarcastic as he glanced down at the woman, who slowly raised her gaze to meet his. His eyes widened slightly when he saw the darkness in her piercing hazel gaze. Her face was a patchwork quilt of cuts and bruises. There was a deep cut on the right side of her cheek. There were smaller scratches running from her left ear down both sides of her neck, where he saw the two-pronged puncture wound. The flesh on her neck where the rope had cut into her was raw and starting to seep. Her hair was as fair and golden-spun, and tied back so tightly that the skin on her face appeared stretched. Her garments were those of a Man, yet she carried such short stature, they could not figure out to do with her.

"Behold, the Lady of Shadow," the Orc said, kicking her forward. Buffy struggled against her constraints and glanced up, her eyes grim and not showing the excruciating pain in her neck and her wrists. Her feet were bare, cut and bleeding openly on the black rock she was forced to walk upon. She seemed to be waiting to hear what the wardens had to say, and when the warden lifted his hand, the Orc holding her leash jerked the chain and she tumbled backwards, hard.

Yet she made no sound of fury or of agony. She pulled back to her knees, her forehead on the ground before lifting cold, determined eyes.

"This, this is the Lady of the Shadows?" the warden asked, mocking her. "This is the lady we have all come to fear and grow to despise? This is the one who plots our Lord's destruction?" The loud, manic laughter that followed sickened the young woman on the feet in front of them, yet her eyes were cold as she struggled to her feet, despite her cracked, bleeding feet and her many exterior injuries.

"Yeah, that's right," she said, smirking up at him. She was rewarded for this insolence by a fierce backhand that sent her sprawling back onto the ground. The leash-master gave no leeway, so she was starting to turn slightly blue as she sat up again, the collar around her neck pulled so tightly it cut off life-saving oxygen.

Spitting out blood onto the ground, she raised her bruised eyes, her smile taunting. "You can play torture all you want," she said, grinning a bloody smile. "I'll never break."

"That will be for the Winged Shadow to decide," the warden said, at last turning to beckon them into the Nazgûl stronghold of Dol Guldur. "The vales of Anduin have been most fruitful. Bring her."

Buffy didn't draw her gaze away until the last moment. As she passed, her eyes held her last warning. "When I walk out of here, free as a bird, I'm killing you."

The warden just laughed at her.

Turning her determined face back to the walk forward, she continued on her way, not wanting to give the Orc any more incentive to abuse her already battered body. Her neck was aching, her feet were numb, and her heart was heavy with the knowledge of what was to come.

She drew a shuddering breath, wondering how much more of this "Heaven" she could take.

She was about to face the one person that Siri had wanted her to take on, unwittingly and unyielding. Buffy knew the dangers of coming face-to-face with this malice. He was darker that stone, many would say. There was a reason he was known as the 'Lord of Shadow'. Her own nickname had been of Siri's invention, asking her why she acted like a Shadow, lurking among the branches and quietly assessing the strengths and skills of the women under her command. Thus her own nickname as the Lady of Shadow had come to pass.

There was no doubt in her mind that Sauron knew of this Lady. She knew of him only because of the ancient stories foretold by Siri's father, the Prince of the small southern lands of Rhovanion, where his people had prospered many years before so much death came upon the arrival of the winged nine in their lands. Buffy had spent nearly two years in this peaceful nation before the reigns had been given to her, once again, unwittingly. Buffy would have loved nothing more than to find a small house and learn how to live the perfect life in Heaven, but the Slayer inside had insisted she take on the role of Amazon. It had been Siri's idea, once again, to create an army out of girls.

She laughed bitterly at the thought. An army of girls, she led into battle nine times out of ten. There were three outposts and she guarded the largest. The village was small and crumbling, full of disease and starvation. Their migration from southern Rhovanion to Mirkwood had ended in nearly half of the population dying out. She supposed trying to cross the Hithaegir to the Gap of Rohan and return to their village would be brutal on their already limited resources. Fending off Orc was one thing, but facing a war between Dol Guldur and Mordor, not to mention the Elves of Lórien to the west and Mirkwood to the north was just asking for certain death. Buffy was unwilling to kill off those she had been asked to protect, but the only alternative to passing over the mountains was taking the Gap of Rohan, passing rather closely to Lórien and Fangorn. The only other direction was between the two lands, and neither was too appealing.

She had spent years discovering the way out of this forest and back towards the land where many of those following her called home. She really didn't have a home, and this was the point that Siri had brought up at every chance, reminding Buffy she was an outsider lucky enough to be chosen to lead, but never really having the blood right she herself had.

As soon as Buffy had gotten them across the Gap or the Hithaegir, whichever came first, she planned on leaving Siri in charge of the broken villages of southern Rhovanion, since the migration to the east had ended in great tragedy for a young Prince and his family. His last surviving family was Siri, and Buffy was pretty certain Siri would finally have the strength to take the throne offered to her once she was returned to the tiny Kingdom.

What Buffy didn't know was that the once-independent lands of Enedwaith were no longer free and had fallen to the influences of the Wizard Saruman. And for all she knew, Siri had fallen in the ambush just a day before.

She didn't know how she was going to get out of this. From what she had learned in all of her years in this land, the Nazgûl were the ultimate badasses. Cunning, dark and dead, they were the vital enemy. She had no idea what they would try to do with her. All of her hopes lied with the other two outposts of her people, but if no one had survived the massacre, what hope did she have of her people coming to help her? She would have given anything to hear Siri's ingratiating tone, despite the friction growing between them. It would be the last push of confidence she needed to make certain that Siri would retain her rightful position as a royal, and Buffy would finally be set free from a duty given to her twenty years before.

That is, if she survived what was to come…

- - - - -

"My Lord, we have brought to you a mighty gift," said one of the guards of the great tower at Dol Guldur. "We have brought you the Lady of Shadow."

"At last," said the raspy, dead voice. "A thorn in our path she has been. Bring her before me and I will show her the true meaning of darkness. There can only be one Shadow."

The guard smiling, his black teeth glinting in the dark light siphoning from the arches above their heads. "She will come, my Lord."

"Good," said the voice, holding up one hand as the guard pulled on the long, metallic glove. "If she will not join us, she will perish with the rest. Too long has she stood against us."

"Far too long, my Lord," said the guard, bowing his head before ducking away.

The eyes belonging to the figure smiled, but there was no warmth. The metallic gloves went to hold the ghostly crown upon his head. "There can only be one Lord… and I am he. There is only one Shadow. When she comes, she will suffer me."

- - - -

So ends the second part of the rather dark part of 'I Capture the Sun'. I actually created a sketch of what I thought Dol Guldur looks like. I thought it would look like a tree-covered area with a large hill and on top of the hill, this dark gate and matching tower, with an archway with relics and runes from the Black tongue. It was quite entertaining, since I normally have no talent for drawing, but this was one place I brought out of my imagination, since most details on the Black stronghold are sketchy at best.

In the next part, Buffy will come face-to-face with the Witch King of Angmar, better known as the Servant of Sauron or the Lord of the Shadow or even the Leader of the Nine. The Elves will also press southeast towards the stronghold once signs point the woman was brought alive to the fortress of Dol Guldur. This part will (hopefully) be posted before I leave for my Thanksgiving holiday next Tuesday.

As for the location of the Amazon camp, I believe I centered it to the northeast of Dol Guldur on the borders of the Vales. This pay, they have an outpost. The village was never securely placed, because it has moved so often. From what the first part was able to say, the village and the protection surrounding it have moved from one end of Mirkwood to the other.

Hithaegir is another term used for the Misty Mountains. I figured that she would know the Elvish name after living in a land considered to be an Elvish realm for twenty two years. If you follow the path from the south of Mirkwood between Lórien and Fangorn, you get to Dunland and south is Enedwaith. If you have any of the geography questions, I would be most pleased to point you in the general direction of the maps used for this fiction.

Reviews are most welcome, since this is the first fiction I have written (not co-written and certainly not revised) in the time past. I think you can tell how much I can analyze a book but my dealings with television shows are meager at best!