Miscellaneous
Pairings: This fiction will follow many of the book relationships. Originally, Buffy had no romantic involvement in this fiction, but this decision was changed by those of us who returned to complete it. There were two choices and we chose the one we found least common, and we hope it will be a satisfactory choice for you all. We will inform you however that it isn't Aragorn. If you are in the 'need to know', you are well within your rights to ask.
Events: This fiction is also one that will follow the end of the trilogy (from 'Riders of Rohan' onward) through the end of the 'Return of the King', but will hopefully go in a different direction from there. At most, there will be 20 chapters from the original story, and hopefully another 5 to follow, unless one of us gets ambitious enough to continue on. Otherwise, we will likely leave the story where it already ends. This story follows the path of Rohan through the events of the book.
Gratitude: First of all, you are my first reviewers. I thank you so very much for reading and responding so positively to this story. It gives me great pride to think that you actually like this fiction and do not consider it as rubbish, as I first did. So, my thanks to you all, and a special thanks to those of you who reviewed.
Remarks: I realize that although this story is new, I have contributed a great deal of both time and research into this, as has Katrina, my co-writer. This is her first piece of fanfiction in quite some time, and we both found the idea of a crossover scintillating. We completely appreciate those of you who have read and reviewed it. We accept and will reply to any comments or critiques, but be gentle, as this is our first time into this world of Middle-Earth (and Buffy, for that matter).
Disclaimer: J.R.R. Tolkien owns 'The Lord of the Rings' book series. Joss Whedon controls the world of Buffy. Peter Jackson and company own "The Lord of the Rings' films. We only own a part of the plot.
Summary: Buffy is summoned to fulfill an oath before she can rest in peace.
Chapter Summary: Buffy meets an unlikely race and her ultimate guide.
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Chapter 2
Lothlórien
By Katrina Claire
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19 February 3019 – Caras Galadhon
It took Buffy a few hours to return to her senses after her first major shock of coming forth to a new world. When she finally stood and walked about the bed she'd been set upon, she took in her surroundings for the first time.
"Where is this place?" she asked no one in particular, for none were present with her. She had heard mutterings of Mithrandir and she was quite anxious to meet the one person she was supposed to know. Except for the woman, whom she didn't know, no one else had spoken to her. She was starting to feel annoyed with Whistler and the Powers who had left her in this land with no knowledge or understanding. She felt confused and lost even though she felt as though she'd been in this place before, even if it wasn't possible. Or was she simply going out of her mind?
There was a soft wind blowing through the trees, and the sounds of song were heard far above her. She glanced up and was surprised to see naught but tree-limbs swaying. Glancing down, she received her second shock; she was at least thirty feet above the ground. Taking a sharp breath, she moved back to the bed and sat down upon it, her head spinning. Was this some sort of prison?
"You are new to this land," a soft masculine voice said from somewhere beneath her. Buffy watched as a tall figure emerged from some sort of ladder and approached her, his arms at his sides. At first sight, he was very tall. He was also wearing a glowing robe of sorts, and his hair was as long as the woman's had been. Realizing she was being rude by refusing to answer, she nodded. "I am Celeborn, lord of the Galadhrim. This is my dwellings."
Buffy glanced up to avoid his ever-steady blue-eyed gaze and found herself watching soft white lights twinkling above. "It's very… nice here, wherever we are. Where am I?"
"You have come to Lothlórien, Merilin," he replied, opening his arms as a gesture of welcome. "You have been brought by Gwaihir to these dwellings with Mithrandir."
She leapt back to her feet, and immediately wished she hadn't; she felt the branches sway and latched onto her bedpost, which was nothing more than a twig on this vast tree. "Mithrandir," she breathed with a nervous twitch as she eyed the ground far below. "He knows who I am, right?" She raised her head, hoping this lord would understand her question.
"At this moment, he does not," the female voice replied. Buffy's head snapped as she looked behind her and there, standing in the same ethereal gown and cloak, was the woman. "Mithrandir has yet to awaken. I shall enjoy hearing your tale as soon as I speak. I am Galadriel, Lady of this Golden Wood."
"It's… I'm pretty sure it'll be a pleasure to meet you, but I'm not used to waking up in waving trees… and I'm quite nervous because I don't have boat-legs."
"Your dialogue is not known to us, Merilin," Galadriel replied, taking a few steps closer to the strange blonde-haired woman. "I believe we have much to learn from one another."
"Why do you call me that… that name?" Buffy asked with a nervous chuckle. Being surrounded by two people that, far taller than she was, in gowns that were not unlike what a priest may wear, were unhinging her already fragile nerves. Not to mention the fact she was trapped thirty feet above the ground on a branch. It was provoking her into asking stupid questions, but she really didn't know what to ask. She was intimidated, the first time she had been since she'd found out the First evil was after her, that much was for certain.
"I call you that because you have come to us in the darkness of night," Galadriel replied. "It is not your given name, no. It is one we have chosen to call you until you have given your own to us."
Buffy realized just then that they didn't have a clue who she was. "Okay… I'm… Buffy. Buffy Summers."
"That name is unusual," Celeborn replied calmly as he joined the woman's side. Galadriel reached out and took the arm Celeborn offered her.
"Tell me about it," Buffy said, mentally kicking herself for not going with the name she had chosen for herself not five minutes (or was it five thousand years?) before. "Please, call me Anne."
"That name is more common to this land," Galadriel replied, extending a pale hand towards the newcomer. "You are human, yet I can see there is power there, strength besides. When you tell us your tale, you will tell of this."
"I'll… try," Buffy said with a timid smile. She had no idea why she was so unnerved around these two. She had never been one for shyness or timidity. But since she was in their dwellings as a perpetual stranger, it was probably far better off to become less aggressive and hostile than not. "Will you tell me when Mithrandir wakes up? I have to talk to him."
"We will inform you when that occurs," Galadriel replied as Buffy finally reached out and grasped her hand. "Now that our formalities have ceased, perhaps you would care to tell us where you have come from and your business in these lands."
"Of course," Buffy said quickly, and set out after the Lord of these lands. After following him rather ungracefully down the rope ladder, her feet hit solid ground and she bit back her longing to kiss it. From this angle, many feet from where she was before, she could fully appreciate the beauty of dwelling in such a fantastic place. It took her a prod to move, but as she did, she couldn't help uttering "Oh!" every time she passed another sight that held her gaze.
It didn't take long for Buffy to recall the tale of her passing. Galadriel knew and had foreseen most of it, and she quietly listened with a patient expression until Buffy had finished speaking. Glancing down, she felt slightly foolish telling them of her great powers when it was obvious of their own. Those they had passed had bowed before the Lord and his Lady, and all looked upon the shorter woman between them as a stranger to their home.
"Who are they?" Buffy asked as they were joined by guards, many of whom looked upon her with suspicion. They were all tall and dressed in priest robes, but they all had long hair (at first she may have mistaken them for hippies despite the obvious lack of the smell of weed about them) and the tips of their ears were pointed. They also spoke to one another in a language Buffy was certain she'd never heard before, and she'd heard a lot of them. She had, after all, lived in Los Angeles.
"They are the Elf-guards to the March-warden. They carry their reservations, for not many from the outlands have crossed into our realm. Mithrandir will have much to teach you once he has risen, for he, too, has suffered a death like yourself. He has been returned to this world to continue his path to rid the world of the darkness."
"Can you guys explain that to me?" Buffy asked with a slight frown. "I don't know what's going on in this world, because no one has really told me anything. Until I met you, that is."
"You know nothing of Frodo, the Fellowship and the Ring of Power?" Celeborn asked her, a sharpness in his voice.
"Nothing," she admitted, looking at him. He could read the truth in her eyes and cast his own gaze to Galadriel.
"She must be told, for not many will live long to tell such a tale."
Buffy sat eagerly on her perch, waiting to hear of a saga she knew was worthy of being called such, when a sharp voice cried out, and she found herself facing the cold silver edge of an arrow aimed for her neck.
She turned her hazel eyes from the weapon to its wielder, who stared at her with an arrogant azure gaze.
"She is a friend of the Galadhrim, one under the service of Mithrandir, Haldir," Celeborn said swiftly as the March-warden pulled his hilt down and lowered the bow at last. Buffy caught the arrow as it slipped from its string and returned it to its bearer.
"You've got skills," she said in a manner of a friendly greeting. Her smile faltered when the superior look on his face didn't change, and they appeared to stare one another down until she realized it was almost childish. Turning with a slight flush in her cheeks, she turned to Galadriel.
"You have come to us when our need is dire—"
"What do you know," Buffy said moodily. "Once again, I step in when the apocalypse comes." Galadriel gave her a soft look and Buffy promptly closed her mouth. "Sorry," she muttered.
"There are very few who do not know of the evil which has fallen across this land," Galadriel began. Haldir lowered his bow to the tree-limb and stood behind his Lord and Lady, as though protecting them from the force of a woman small enough to crush with a single blow. "It began with the fall of the Second Age, when a last alliance of elves and men marched upon the last of the servants of Morgoth, who was one of the Valar, the founders of Arda."
"Arda is the land in which we dwell," Celeborn explained at seeing the blank look upon Buffy's face. "King Elendil and Gil-galad, High King of Noldor marched their alliance upon Sauron, the servant of Morgoth. When the battle went ill, Sauron struck and killed Elendil, and it was his son, Isildur, who took up his father's sword and struck down Sauron."
"The story begins with the forging of the great rings. Three were given to the Elves, immortal, wisest and fairest of all beings. Seven to the Dwarf lords, great miners and craftsmen of the mountain halls. And nine, nine rings were gifted to the race of Men, who above all else, desired power. For within these rings was bound the strength and will to govern each race," Galadriel continued. "They were deceived by the Dark Lord Sauron, who created one ring, a master ring, to control all others. When Isildur struck down Sauron, the master ring fell to his hands. It was then that the strength of men fell."
Buffy listened very intently, as this was something she could understand. The story didn't end there; it continued on. "Isildur was overrun by the dark forces of orc from Mordor, and the ring fell into a pool, only to be discovered again two and a half thousand years after that time. It was found by Déagol, one of the hobbits from the River-land, on a day he spent with his cousin Sméagol. But the ring began to corrupt Sméagol and he took the life of his own kin to take it from him. For five hundred years, the ring waited for a time when its master would call to it."
Galadriel continued on. "The ring abandoned Gollum, as Sméagol was now called, and it fell into the hands of a hobbit by the name of Bilbo Baggins. A hobbit is a Halfling, one perhaps slighter than yourself. It was held by him, bringing him the appearance of unnatural youth. It was only when Mithrandir, whom many of us know as Gandalf, saw the ring for what it was. It was taken by a cousin of Bilbo, Frodo Baggins, and he was told with a fellow Hobbit to take the ring to Bree. At this hour, there was darkness spreading. Gandalf went to seek the counsel of the highest of his Order, the Wizard Saruman the White. But Saruman had been corrupted by the palantír, a seeing stone of old and evil. Once he deciphered that the Ring of Power had been found, he turned against Gandalf.
"Saruman bore Gandalf away and renounced the ways of old. There he held Gandalf the Grey into the Tower of Orthanc. He tore apart the gardens of Isengard and began creating an army for Sauron."
"But I thought you said this Sauron was dead," Buffy said, confusion darkening her eyes.
"The body of Sauron fell, but the spirit of the Dark Lord endured," Celeborn said quietly. Buffy turned to him, taking in the ghostly look in his eyes. "Long has he held power over many of the free peoples of Middle Earth. Long has he had many to call upon in times of battle. And long will he use the power of the seeing-stone for his own ill-will. He has command over the spirits of the nine Kings of men, led by the Witch-king of Angmar. They are known as the Nazgûl, the Ringwraiths."
"Oh," Buffy said, frowning slightly as she continued to digest all of this. "Please, continue."
"At this time, Frodo and his kinsman, Samwise Gamgee, met with two of their other kin, a Brandybuck and a Took. The Nazgûl had taken up a prisoner of their own, Gollum, who had once possessed the ring. He gave enough way to send the Nazgûl after Bilbo Baggins, but they found the Ring instead in the care of his cousin, Frodo. The hobbits broke away from the nine and, with the intervention of the Elf-man Gildor, they fled to Bree. But Gandalf was nowhere to be found. Instead, they came across Strider, a Ranger from the North, one of the last of the Dúnedain, a race of men with unnatural long lives which take after a race long since passed. He led them into the woods, pursued by the nine."
Buffy could see it in her head, now. She could see four little men, smaller than herself, running away from nine insane-looking men as tall as Galadriel and Celeborn, clad in black, carrying large swords and speaking in tongues she had not yet heard of.
"The story continues. Gandalf bore away on Gwaihir and returned to Rivendell, a haven of the elves led by Lord Elrond. Strider led the hobbits to Weathertop, a guard tower of old, when Frodo was struck by the Morgul blade of the Witch-king of Angmar. Such was his injury that it was necessary for Elvish medicine. Strider bore them into the wilderness, when they came across Glorfindel, of the land of Elrond, who bore him upon a horse and sent him into the wild. Lord Elrond and Gandalf called for a flood and the nine were swept away.
"Frodo awoke in Rivendell to see his mentor Gandalf had returned. Frodo was then reunited with his cousin Bilbo, who gave to him a sword of the finest Elvish standard and a chainmail made from the precious mithril. Lord Elrond called a summons in which many would come to this council; the Steward-son of Gondor, a man they called Boromir. There were elves from the Mirkwood, led by the Prince Legolas. Gimli, son of Glóin, came to represent the Dwarves. All of the races of Middle Earth were bound to the fate of the one Ring, as they had been three thousand years before."
"It was revealed to all that Strider was none other than Aragorn, son of Arathorn, heir to the throne of Gondor," Celeborn continued briskly. "Legolas revealed that Gollum had escaped his imprisonment under the wood-elves. Gimli spoke of his own tale, the nine calling upon 'Baggins' and 'Shire', the only two words fit from Gollum once he had been tortured."
Buffy glanced down, biting her lip. There was so much to take in. It was so very hard to believe, considering she had been in this world all of one hour now. She had a feeling there was more to this story, and Galadriel continued it.
"Elrond called upon these races of Middle Earth to bring the one Ring to the fires of Mount Doom, where the power of the Ring could only be destroyed. It was Frodo of the Shire, a mere hobbit, who claimed this task, and a fellowship of nine was born: Frodo and his two kinsmen and the faithful Samwise, Gandalf the Grey, Boromir and Aragorn of Gondor, Legolas and Gimli, son of Glóin. They set out upon the snowy peak of Caradhras. Saruman had foreseen this and drove them to the paths under the mountain. It was there that they met a Balrog, a demon of fire. Battling their way through the Orcs of Moria, Gandalf the Grey fell while defeating his foe, the Balrog of Moria." At this, Galadriel cast her gaze downward, and for a fragile second, a shadow of grief passed over her features. "Aragorn led the others on, and unto this land they came for protection."
Haldir finally withdrew his gaze from the young woman's face. "They asked me to take them into Lothlórien, although the Halfling brought with him a great evil in the Ring. Still, he carried this burden and stood before this Lord and Lady, pledging their Fellowship would survive despite the fall of the ninth."
"We bore them all with gifts and they set off down the River of Anduin. They did not know, however, that Saruman had sent the Uruk-hai, bred from goblins and the orc of old, to strike down the Fellowship and to bring to him the Ring of power and the Halflings who possessed it," Celeborn said, before he took a deep breath and fell silent.
Buffy watched all three curiously before interrupting the silence with, "Is that it? Is that all?"
"The Fellowship has broken and Boromir, son of Gondor lays wasted," Galadriel replied. "Frodo and Samwise have continued the journey across the Eastern Shores and are passing under the Emyn Muil. They go for Mordor to destroy the Ring. Their kindred have been taken by the Uruk-hai of Saruman and as I speak to you on this passing, Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli follow, although their hope is waning that they will reach their Halfling fellows before they reach the Circle of Isengard. This much we can see from the gift of foresight.
"They do not yet know that Gandalf has been returned to this world, to stand for what Saruman could not do; defy the power of the Ring and to give counsel to those who seek to supplant its power. This is where your tale begins, and the story will continue on unto the ending of this world."
At this, Galadriel, too, fell silent, gazing at the younger woman. "What age are you?" she inquired.
"Nearly twenty-three," Buffy said defensively, folding her arms before her. She noted the look exchanged by the Lord and Lady, and the March-warden gave a great sigh and took a step away from them.
"You are young, Merilin, and should not have to carry the weight of this world."
"I've done it before," Buffy shrugged. "I can do it again. It's what I do. It's what I am."
With this, she started into her second story, the tale which described the Slayer. She had a feeling they could already assess her power, but she wasn't about to deny herself the satisfaction of telling them she was more than just a short girl with a fear of heights on a wobbly tree branch with a bad temper.
"There is one girl in the entire world that was chosen to stand against the forces of darkness," Buffy began. "I was the one who was chosen, until my first death and another preceded me. My final battle… we took the power of one weapon and gave many girls the same power, so now we're all chosen. I'm not the only girl in the world that is a Slayer."
"We have heard of the Dagnir, but have never met with one," Celeborn assured her. Buffy glanced at him in surprise.
"Are there Slayers in this world?" she asked curiously.
"There is now," Galadriel said, adopting Buffy's dialect for one brief moment before settling her gaze on the brilliant ring adorning her hand. She noticed Buffy's gaze and held her hand up for the younger woman to see. "This is Nenya, one of the three rings bestowed upon the elves. Elrond carries the second, and Círdin bears the third, although he has entrusted this ring to Gandalf."
"It's a very pretty ring," Buffy said quietly.
"Its purpose was meant to be used for a great power," Galadriel said quietly as she rose again and extended her hand to the younger woman. "Come. You are hungered from your journey and have many questions to ask. I will bring you to the company of the Elves, and you shall know their lives and their duty, for it is not unlike your own."
Buffy followed Galadriel beneath a great archway and glanced at the clearing before them. Silver lights had been erected now that it was past twilight. There was a darkness overhead that bit into her skin, chilling her to the bone. It had nothing to do with the temperature of the air.
She felt sheltered in these trees and was comforted by the sounds of the Elf-song from above, a woman's voice gently falling upon them. Leading her down to where many others stood, Galadriel left her there with the March-warden before leaving to check on Gandalf.
Haldir still grasped his bow and Buffy took a keen interest in it. She had always loved a good weapon, and this weapon was beautifully crafted and was sealed with ancient runes embroidered upon its curved head. He noticed her eyeing it and explained where it had come from and how it had been made in the highest of quality.
"Can I hold it?" she asked, looking almost ashamed to ask this question to someone so much larger and colder than she was, one who had barely spoken three lines to her. Yet he held out his arm, allowing her to touch the handle and tweak the bow-string.
"I like weapons," she said with a grin. Seeing that she wouldn't harm his precious weapon, he released it and she took it in her own arms, lifting it as though to fire.
"You have dropped your elbow," Haldir said in his arrogant tone as she turned to him, her eyebrows lifting in surprise.
"You sound like my Watcher," she finally commented, returning the bow to its owner.
"Your Watcher? Was he not your guardian?" the March-warden asked calmly as he set his bow aside and reached for a basket upon a table. He pulled out a leaf and handed it to her. "Take this Lembas; one bite of this Elvish way-bread is enough to satisfy even the strongest of men."
Buffy pried open the leaf and noticed a flat bit of what looked like an enlarged saltine sitting on the glossy surface. She lifted the Lembas and bit a corner off, nearly choking when she realized how dry it really was. Swallowing hard, she gave the Elf a tight smile. "I don't suppose you would have any water, would you?"
He took a small clay jar and handed it to her. She took a grateful sip as the last of the bread slid down her throat. "Thanks," she said, setting the bread aside. While it had definitely done something to her stomach, it wasn't very satisfying. Her stomach was used to Doublemeat burgers and fried chicken parts, not Elvish bread probably made from the driest of flour. "And you asked about Giles… he was my Watcher. I suppose a Watcher is like a guardian to the Slayer. They train them and look after them and stuff, or at least, that's what my Watcher was to me. But mine was like my dad. Never really had one of those." She hid the bitterness in her eyes by glancing away.
Thinking about Giles was dangerous, she realized, as tears suddenly sprung to her eyes. She had no idea just how much she missed him, even though he was thousands of years into the future, and she had seen him not ten hours before.
"Did he fall in your passing battle?" Haldir asked, taking the jar from her trembling hands and setting it aside.
Buffy shook her head. "I was told that he lived. He always finds a way to get out of messy situations like that. That's why he's the best at what he does. I trust no one else."
"Being without him now much seems to be much more troublesome."
"You have no idea," Buffy said with a small smile. Suddenly, the prospect of eating more dry bread appealed to her, and she broke off a piece before sticking it in her mouth. "What about you, uh… sir? What do you do in Lothlórien?"
"I am the March-warden," Haldir replied as he watched her eat silently. "I protect the borders from the many foes who cast their darkness upon these lands."
"I'm guessing Middle Earth has a lot of enemies," Buffy said sadly as she swallowed another bite of Lembas before reaching for the leaf-sack again.
"None as potent as Sauron, I fear, although the power of Saruman grows as knowledge of the one Ring approaches from the south-east. If none but the heir of Isildur can reach them in time, I fear this world may be short-lived."
"And I thought I was the pessimist," Buffy muttered as she looked down. She really wished Haldir would stop staring at her, since his blue-eyed gaze was steady, strong and commanding. So, he was a General of his people, just as she had been with her own. At last she had found someone who understood her position wholly. She was about to ask about the protection of Lothlórien when Galadriel reappeared a host of others, announcing that Gandalf was awake at last.
"He remembers not his old name or strife, so call upon him as Mithrandir," Galadriel told her as they climbed into the highest of trees once again (Buffy forcing herself not to look down). Once they approached the top of the curving stairway, Buffy stepped underneath another archway and, to her surprise, found a tall man adorned in white robes, gleaming even more brightly than the pure light surrounding them. He bore a staff with his right hand, and his own blue-eyed gaze was steady as he eyed the woman standing across from him.
"You are not known to me," he said at last, leaning upon his staff. "I have come across many in my time, and you do not bear the arms or the recognition of one I have passed before."
Oh, crap.
"I'm new to this world," Buffy said quickly, even as Galadriel stepped before her.
"She is Merilin, one who has come to the call of your aide, as you have come to bear that which was once Saruman's," Galadriel said in her quiet, commanding tone. "I seek the truth of her eyes and she has given it to me; her virtue is true and she has revealed much to us in the time of your passing."
Mithrandir turned to the younger woman again, surprise showing on his weathered face. "You have come before me to aid?"
Buffy nodded. "I was sent to this world to help out some King, I think. My name is Buffy, but if you prefer to use Anne, it is also a name I was given when I was born." Damn, how she rambled when she was nervous. Here was another tall figure staring down at her as though she were a wayward child. How she longed to meet the Halflings in whose company she would not feel looked down upon.
"I sought the counsel of one with age and knowledge," Mithrandir finally said after a brief, awkward silence. "I can see in her eyes she holds neither."
Before Galadriel could speak, Buffy found her voice again. "I just spent the last seven years living on a Hellmouth. It's a mystical conversion of energy on a spot, and I spent seven years defending it. I've died three times now, and before I can go and rest in peace, I've been sent here to help you out. I didn't ask for this. I just died a few hours ago, and I don't understand what's happening to me! All I know is that I came up with a plan to save my world. And that's good enough for whatever Powers that thought of me for this position. I didn't ask for this," she repeated, crossly folding her arms. "I'm sorry if I'm speaking out or complaining, but I have a hell of a lot of knowledge, despite my age. I'm the only one of my kind, or I was for years. I think you know what that feels like."
Galadriel had been waiting for this, it seemed. She had stepped back to let Buffy take her own floor and speak her own mind. It seemed unfitting of a stranger to speak against a Wizard of immeasurable power, yet this small warrior chose to do so.
Mithrandir studied her face lined with pride and wisdom before relenting.
"They said you would tell me what I have to do to fulfill this promise I made to the Powers," Buffy said quickly, her rage spent. "I was told that this world doesn't have a lot of hope, and I just brought some to an army of girls, of children… and many lived to tell their own story." She smiled fiercely. "I may not be old enough to tell many stories, but I can tell you a good tale worthy of song and laughter." She paused. "If its one thing I know… it's that I'm not afraid to fight for what I believe in the most. I've already died three times. Death is not something I fear anymore. It just… happens."
"I do not remember ever asking for aid," Gandalf finally said, bowing his head. "I do not remember a great many things before my own passing, and for you to recount tales of your own is of great encouragement."
"If there's one thing I know how to do, it's to die fighting," Buffy said quietly. "You might not want to hear what I have to say, because even I don't like hearing what I say… but if you ever needed someone who loves weapons, now is the time I give myself freely to your… service."
For some odd reason, there was a voice in the back of her head telling her to get down on her knees. She bent down and bowed before Mithrandir, who looked upon her in a new light. Here was a child, unafraid of speaking out of turn and one that he could see had had many years in several battles. She bore the scars of these on her face, still unlined with youth, but bearing the darkness which had been passed over her. Instead of granting her the will to be at peace, she had been given this last task to do, and she was willing to see it done, by his will or not. He could see this much in her eyes.
"I will take you in my Service," Mithrandir replied at last. "There is much to be done." He turned to Galadriel, with who he'd already been at Council. She gave him her commanding nod and he turned to face the young woman.
"Merilin," he began, "there is a great deal to do as we leave this land. We must make haste for Rohan, for there lays the King you have been baited to give aid to."
So, he had known about her. He had just been testing her. Buffy arched one eyebrow in annoyance, but the Wizard continued to speak, and she forced herself to listen.
"I have the task of following Aragorn, son of Arathorn and heir to Elendil to Gondor, but with the most hopeless of men, you must remain, for battles you have fought and victory you have achieved. They have seen neither the lightness of victory nor the sweet air of peace in much time. Aragorn will bring them hope but with your counsel, you may bring them courage and strength of arms. I have been informed that you are skilled with many weapons of old."
"I like Haldir's bow," Buffy grinned.
Mithrandir gazed at her sternly as an Elf-man approached him, a tattered traveling cloak in his arms. "You will be given armaments, but fight as you know you must, they seek not just your bow-arm, but your observations and your strategy in battle." He pulled the weary cloak around him and took up his hat from the foot of the bed, his opposite hand never leaving the top of his staff.
"There are many dark times ahead, for all," Galadriel said in her mystic tone as she gazed at both Mithrandir, the Wizard of White and the young Buffy, a Dagnir of demons, who had come to them now when the great men of the world called for help. Although many might not trust a woman, it was only a matter of time before this Dagnir would prove herself in battle. "We must look to our own borders, but will aid those who seek our assistance if the time has come."
Gandalf was still preparing himself for night-travel when he realized the young woman standing before him looked weary and tired. "Sleep tonight, you will," he said. She gave him a grateful nod and turned to leave. "We will leave come morning and make haste across the Mark. I have dealings with the trees of old." He paused and regarded his staff. "I bid you farewell and good night. Get some rest, Merilin, for you will need it in the days ahead."
Buffy was only too happy to reply, "'Night!" before following yet another Elf-guide through the tree limbs until she found her own resting place beneath the trees again. It was then she realized she was wearing the same clothes she'd worn during her last battle with the First. Come daybreak, she was going to ask Galadriel for soap and a change of clothes, since she was fairly certain they might not accept a woman in pants and a rather fitting shirt for the job she had been asked to do. As she stripped down her garments, she spied the gash in her shirt where the blade from the Turok-han had penetrated her skin. Dropping the shirt, she touched the wound, but it had somehow been sealed. There was only a trace of the battle she'd left behind in her ruined top, but it was enough to remind her of where she had just come from. Setting her things aside, she wrapped herself in a cloak that had been given to her, and drifted off to sleep.
Morning came far too soon for her liking. Once she was jostled awake by the songs of the elves, she found one of the Elf-women and asked her for soap. Once she had been shown the springs, she bathed, relishing the feel of drawing a clean garment onto her thoroughly-scrubbed skin. A long gown and cloak had been provided for her and she pulled it on, admiring the way she looked in the glassy surface of the spring. She liked the long, white sleeves and the flowing green bodice. She pulled her blonde hair up as she pulled the cloak on over the dress, fastening it with a small clip she had found with the rest of the garments. She dropped her hair and stared at her reflection.
What a difference one day made. The day before she had been holding a scythe, preparing to take on the First evil and defeating him. The next day she found herself in a completely different setting, about to make way across some Mark and go to the aid of some King.
"Am I really ready for this?" she asked her reflection. "Am I ready to do this again?" So many lives had been lost under her leadership… Kendra, her Mother, Spike, not to mention the countless potentials, some of whom she buried in her lonesome. The thought of taking on a world which needed her guidance was unsettling. One day before she had given hope to an army of teenage girls. Today, she was taking on a world of men.
Anything you say is going to sound like a goodbye. Those had been Dawn's parting words. Well, she hadn't had the chance to say anything. But before Buffy could dwell on these thoughts, she heard the sound of a tree rustling and turned.
"You are leaving us soon," a quiet voice spoke and she turned to see an Elf-maiden walking towards her. She bore a comb and bands. Sitting down the younger woman, the maiden brushed and braided her hair. "It is fit for travel."
"Thanks," Buffy said, glancing once again at her reflection.
"You are most welcome," the Elf-maiden replied with a slight bow. "If you are to ride with Mithrandir, your time has come."
Turning away from her reflection, Buffy stared sadly at the garments strewn on the ground, to be left behind as she took the first perilous steps towards her new destiny.
Galadriel was waiting by the stairs and led her up and away. For what seemed like an hour they crossed under trees and through archways until they reached the edge of the wood. Mithrandir stood there with Celeborn giving him counsel. Celeborn noticed that the human woman had joined them and moved to greet her as Galadriel walked to bid farewell to the White Wizard.
"You look to be one of our kind, despite your height," Celeborn said, gesturing her forwards. "Swift feet will take you across the Nimrodel and into the Mark. I bestow these gifts upon you."
Buffy positively glowed when he handed her a sword, sparkling with a hilt embroidered with small emerald stones.
"I would offer a bow, but with your long journey south, I will not bear further hardship upon you."
Buffy lovingly swung her sword, approving the way it glittered in the bright sunlight. With the sword, he had given her Lembas bread (no matter how much she despised it, it could always be used as a talking-piece) and a dagger, one he said had been used by the Noldor in war before her time. She pulled on the belt and took the sack of bread, bowing low to the Lord of Galadhrim.
"Thank you, sir," she said with a brilliant smile as she sheathed her sword at last. She really had no idea how to address him. It was one of those things Gandalf was going to have to teach her, because in this world of formalities and proper English, she was desperately clueless. She could fake it, but that would completely give her away.
Celeborn bid her farewell and disappeared back into the darkness of the glowing tree-city which loomed before them. Galadriel and Gandalf joined her a moment later. Galadriel had one last package which she handed to the younger woman. "There is soap for your journey, and a comb bestowed upon the Elf-maiden you inquired about. I also bear you this." She released her clenched left hand and with her right, pulled out an ornate ring. "Long has it been in my House, and so I bestow it to you, as a sign of hope and of the good faith you will instill upon the dominion of man." Taking a step back, Mithrandir stood by the side of the Slayer, both turning as one to glance at the Lady of the Wood, who lifted her hand to bid them farewell.
"Farewell, I say to you! May our paths cross again once this doom of our time has ended!"
Turning, she and Mithrandir set off across the beautiful plain of Lórien, led by the March-warden and his guards, who saw them to the edge of the forest before saying their own goodbyes.
Now in an open plain, she and Gandalf raced across the greens, the older man moving swiftly for someone of his age. Above them, a bird soared, leading them to their destination.
"What is that?" she asked, pointing to the sky.
"Gwaihir, the lord of the eagles," Mithrandir replied, lifting his weathered head to see the eagle above them. "He has rescued us both from oblivion and brought us to Lady Galadriel."
"I'm glad I met her," Buffy said finally.
"As am I, Merilin. As am I."
- - - - -
Elvish -- English
Merilin – Nightingale a bird that flies by night
- - -
In the next chapter, Buffy takes a walk through Fangorn and gets to know her guide a little bit more.
Edited 11/3 - clarification of Samwise's status.