Miscellaneous
Answers: To Anyanka of the Ocean's question about Frodo being the nephew of Bilbo, he was more adopted as a nephew. They are, in essence, second cousins. At least according to the family tree we have looked at... and looked at... and looked at some more. And the name they call her is Merilin, there is an 'i' in the middle there, not Merlin. I think it's pronounced like Marilyn or Merry-lynn. Something like that.
Pairings: Some of you actually got it. It wasn't that hard to wheedle down, considering we could add all the Original Characters (OCs) we wanted and it still wouldn't make a difference. We'll tell all when the couple gets more apparent.
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.
Pickers: Yes, there is the occasional person who will just sit there and tear something apart. It hasn't been done to this one yet (thank god), but, yeah... we know our Buffy is kind of OC right now. How would YOU feel if you got dropped off in a past world and were suddenly in some Elvish paradise? And Buffy will loosen up. I should probably say that between the two of us, we've seen more than likely a grand total of seven episodes of the show (season 7 ones to boot). Now go blame 'she-who-must-not-be-named' for making us write a Buffy crossover.
Thank You's: Thanks to those of you who've read and continued reading this story! It's great pleasure to know you actually like it! And to those of you who reviewed my chapter, a special thanks to you all! We really enjoyed (to an extent) writing this piece... and... we invite you to either enjoy it or don't, but it was written for our love of the plot, and nothing else, really.
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 sees talking trees and guys riding pretty horses as the story takes a jump into hyperdrive.
Chapter Warning: This is one of those chapters that actually uses dialogue and stuff from the book, just so you know.
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Chapter 3
The DarkForest
By Katrina Claire
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They had been traveling for three days time before Gandalf allowed them both a full night's rest. Buffy warily took it, for their road had been lined with dangers not seen before in her time. She hadn't ever come across an Orc, but now that she had taken them on, she did not desire to do so again. They were foul, loathsome creatures who stank and bled black blood. It wasn't a pretty sight, especially when she had to uncover most of her Lembas just to banish the blood from the blade of her sword with their leaf-coverings. "This stinks," was her first comment after she'd scrubbed at her sword for hours. She had been commenting on the stench.
It was this night that they came to the edge of the forest. It was very dark and the thought of going in there was so unappealing that Buffy started to walk along side the trees, but was called back. The quickest way to Rohan was through Fangorn Forest. As they passed, Gandalf told her of the forest and why many feared it.
"The lords of the forest are the Ents, long-time shepherds of this forest. They have been for many ages a power and a force to be reckoned, but have fallen silent as of late," Mithrandir began as they slowly moved southwest towards Rohan. "The younger trees are wild, and they grow around those who have memories of old. Many have been lost in this war, and many more will fall before the end." Gandalf leaned heavily on his staff and gazed above them. "They have far more wisdom than even the wisest of us can hope to bring. The Elves came into the forest many ages ago, and brought these trees to life."
There was a moaning in the woods ahead of them and Buffy froze; her heartbeat racing erratically until she began to realize that fearing trees that were old and had long survived probably thousands of years of war was a very foolish thing to do. She had been taught to respect the powers of those she didn't understand (Giles for one) and from that moment on, she found that she could respect this power. The trees swayed about them as they stopped to rest on that third night, but it was upon waking up their fourth morning in this forest did she see something that terrified her.
It was a tree. And it was talking.
She gasped and sat up, pulling her cloak tightly about her. "Mithrandir?" she called out softly as she stood up, fastening her cloak quickly and with fumbling fingers.
The Wizard turned to her and inclined his head. "A great league of Uruk-hai approaches from the south. You are less than a day's march full-speed to the Entwade. Treebeard," he gestured to the large tree blinking benignly down at her, and she stifled another squeal, "has spoken of the Rohirrim, which are pursuing these Uruk-hai. You can meet with them in less than a day if you will go on your way."
"You want me to go away?" she asked blankly. Somehow, waking up to see a talking tree and listening to Gandalf telling her she had to turn around and walk away from them was almost frightening. She let out an anxious chuckle, yet nodded nevertheless. "I can… I guess."
"We will meet at Edoras, in the Hall of the King," said Mithrandir, watching as she lifted her belt and re-fastened her cloak. At last she was ready. The tree Mithrandir had called Treebeard was still blinking down at her. "Speak word of me to no one, as all shall be revealed in its own due course."
"You will have safe passage through this path," said the mighty tree, towering fourteen feet in the air, far above her height.
She managed a quick nod. "Thanks," she said, smiling at both in parting before she turned and headed directly south along another path, the trees swaying above her head. When she would have found the notion daunting four days before when she had first entered this realm, she now found the sound comforting, and made to continue on her way.
What in the heck had that been? Were talking trees custom in this land? Or were they just… she couldn't believe it. She slayed demons and dusted vampires for a living. Seeing a talking tree was about the closest thing she'd come to a Chaos demon (which she hadn't seen but still had a very grotesque picture in her mind)… and still… what had just happened?
At long last, she saw the clearing ahead and it grew closer until she stood on the edge of the forest, feeling very much alone. At least she knew the trees, although silent, had been company for her. She knew from her own senses that they could sense her presence and more than likely her reluctance to follow Gandalf's bidding. But she had sworn to do what she could for this world, and if listening to an old Wizard was the new way of the world, she was to follow it.
It was then that her senses picked up something else. There was rapid movement, and it was coming from the west. She pulled out her sword and drew back into the forest, despite the murmurings of protest from the trees around her.
"Unless you guys can jump out and save me, I'm gonna be dead a lot sooner than I thought I would be," she muttered as she drew back against one of the trees. "I promise I won't hurt you."
It was then she saw them. They were large creatures, as foul as the ones she and Mithrandir had slain. Dropping her pouch of Lembas, she turned, hidden in the shadows but silently observing a large score of them as they continued on their journey.
It was then that she saw something else that surprised her. Being worked by whips and chains, two smaller beings were forced along with the others. Her jaw dropped open; these must be the Halflings that Galadriel had spoken of. They were the ones in danger of being caught by this Saruman Wizard and she knew that Gandalf didn't want it to happen. Even at this distance, she could sense their pain and their fear. She felt the same way, standing here in the shade of the protective forest, which was growing around her, shielding her from the darkness which was quickly hastening to the east. She waited until all movement had passed before sheathing her sword again. While she could have been rash and attacked them head-on, they outnumbered her a hundred to one, and she was only one small woman with a simple Elvish sword. She had no hope to take them on, even to rescue two Halflings. She was going to have to leave that up to Gandalf, unless she caught up with these Rohirrim quickly.
She stepped out from the trees after midday, feeling even more alone as the walked along the edge of the southeastern tip of Fangorn Forest. It really wasn't as bad as Mithrandir had spoken of. These trees had much to be angry about, as the Wizard Saruman had been overseeing the forest. It was overrun with saplings now, young trees growing wild and caring less about the Ents that watched over them. Long had they been hunted, ignored and cut down. Smiling a bitter smile, she knew just how they felt.
It was closer to evening when she noticed that there was even more sound coming from behind. Turning, she spied horses, many horses, thundering across the great plain. She glanced at the forest, which seemed too far away; they may have spotted her by now. Yet, she turned to flee, running for the trees. Once she hid in their shadows, she stood, watching as the horsemen rode on.
They slowed down, much to her consternation. They were breaking a camp! This was no good… she had to get away! Her only option was to go back into the forest, and without a light or lantern, this seemed impossible. She could wait until these men had fallen to rest before taking a lantern from them… but that seemed too cowardly an act even for a Slayer.
What was a girl to do?
She didn't have long to wait. She saw that they wore some sort of armor designed with tiny silver links, and broad shirts which clanked when walking, which meant they were either made of metal, leather or both. Even their horses, tethered in the distance, wore armor. They had saddles and little metal helmets slipped over their noses, though they looked thoroughly disgruntled about being left in the spot at the present time. As she ventured out into the night, she listened to the men discussing the tracking of the score of Uruk-hai not three days from the Circle and protection of Isengard.
That was bad, Buffy assumed as she pushed a bit of tree aside to listen harder. She was thanking the Powers at this very moment for her listening abilities; she was learning much from standing here, eavesdropping.
One by one, the men dropped off to sleep. Feeling hungry and quite tired, Buffy felt around her belt for her Elvish way-bread, only to realize she'd left miles away. All that remained was the pouch containing her soap and her comb. Cursing herself, she pulled back deeper into the forest, searching for berries or anything to sustain her. If she didn't eat something, she would soon lose her strength and have no choice but to ask the men in this company for help before she passed out from hunger.
She found a spring not twenty yards in. Setting down her things, she undid her cloak and dress and decided to bathe (since she really had nothing else to do with her time at that moment) quickly as the trees spoke and sang their gentle wind-song above her. Dressing again in the darkness, she managed to fasten her cloak. Supposing that all were asleep by now, since it was reaching the middle of the night, she snuck forward through the wild saplings and into the clearing.
All of the horses were tethered and blinked at her, snorting and stomping their hooves. Feeling extremely apprehensive, Buffy snuck in behind them and walked around a great pit of fire, where many men lay sleeping on the cold ground. She was about to step onto their camp when a cold hand clasped her upper arm and dragged her backwards. She let out a startled cry, only cutting it off when she realized she was alerting others to her presence. Several of the men awoke with grunts as Buffy was dragged into the circle and thrown onto the ground before the fire.
It was then she could see the face of her attacker. Her eyes widened when she saw that he was a tall man in broad red armor. He held a sword in his hand, which was tipped beneath her chin. It seemed as though his eyes had widened and he nearly dropped his sword. He didn't recognize her, yet she looked as though she could be from his land.
Buffy was smart enough to not say anything that would get her seriously killed. She held her tongue and refused to break eye contact with the man that towered above her, his sword now held stead-fast at his side.
"Who are you and what are you doing on this land?" he asked in a deadly tone, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword ever tighter. Buffy swallowed hard. This was her moment, now or never.
"I can't say who I am," she said in a loud voice, as the fire crackled loudly in her ears. "I've been looking for the...." Here, she faltered, since she couldn't remember what the Wizard had said. And it sounded even more intelligent when all she could do was trail her words off into oblivion. "Could you turn the pointy-end of that thing the other way?"
The man had not yet released his gaze. "You bear the cloak of the Elf-kind, yet you are not one of them?" he asked in a haughty tone.
Men were gathering around them now, many muttering, their swords drawn and pointed at the young woman lying in front of the pit of fire before them. She straightened slightly and moved her own sword, which had been digging painfully into her hip. "I'm so not an Elf-kind," she replied, trying to mimic the language used by both Galadriel and Mithrandir. "I'm human."
"Where is this land where you come from?" another man asked, approaching her, his sword raised threateningly. "Speak!"
Gandalf had told her to tell the men of the country nothing but her name. She was getting really close to defying these orders, especially as they hadn't yet pulled their swords away from her.
"I'm from that way," she said at last, pointing towards the trees. It was true, somewhat; she had come from Lórien, which laid somewhere on the other side. "I'm looking for a-a Row-here-em."
There was an audible silence from around her and she glanced around at all of them before getting to her feet. Many moved back and lifted their swords in the case she might try to escape, and looked quite amused at the thought of detaining her.
"I'm… Anne," Buffy continued quickly. "I have been walking through the edge of the forest. Earlier today, I saw a bunch of really ugly men moving quickly that way." She pointed her thumb over her shoulders. "And I heard you guys talking about following a trail of Orc through—"
"Enough of this," the second man said, striding forward and looking her in the eye. "We do not seek spies of Saruman."
This was so going to get worse unless she did something. She smiled up at him, desperately hoping he had the sights that the Elf-kind did, and could see the truth in her eyes. "I am no spy," she replied coolly. He stepped back as the first man stepped forward, sheathing his sword.
"What do you carry?" he asked, pulling her roughly from the fire. Buffy reached down and pulled out her sword and handed it to him. She had to show that she wasn't dangerous and to do that, she was willing to do whatever they asked her to do. After a quick inspection in the flickering light, he nodded to the other pouches upon her belt. "What else do you carry?"
Buffy, with a sigh, pulled out her Elvish soap and the comb the Elf-maiden had given her once she had fixed her hair. Buffy realized that her hair was still mostly damp and it clung uncomfortably to her face, since she had neither the time nor the patience to put it back up again.
The men were staring at her incredulously now. Many exchanged bemused smiles
"How far have you traveled?" the first man asked, inspecting her sword more closely now.
"Eight days… on foot," Buffy said with a slight moan.
"There is blood on this sword," the man replied, holding it out for the others to see. "It is Orc blood." He raised his eyes to her. "Have you fought against the Uruk-hai and challenged them in your solitary?"
She nodded. "Yeah."
Their expressions were rapidly changing from incredulity to disbelief.
She looked each one of them in the face before turning back to the man who had caught her. Judging by the way the others regarded him; he was to be their leader. "I'm a strong woman," she said coolly. "I know how to fight."
"What do we do with her, my Lord?" the second man asked of the first.
"We have not the time to return her to Meduseld," the first replied, still staring at the woman, who finally drew herself up to her full, yet paltry, height and met his challenging gaze straight-on. "She will come with us until we return to Edoras."
"That's where I was going in the first place," Buffy said, thoroughly annoyed now.
"Edoras is a long ride and you have taken on such a burden as it is," the first man said to her, finally pulling his gaze aside. "We are tracking the Uruk-hai that you have spotted earlier." She nodded her understanding, and he felt as though he should continue. "I am Éomer, son of Éomund, and am called the third Marshal of the Riddermark."
Buffy, not having a clue what this meant, nodded again. "I already said I was Anne. They call me Merilin, but I don't know what it means, really."
"We should leave her here!" a third man called out. "Having a woman in camp is dangerous."
Éomer was staring at her again, and this time she didn't pull her gaze away. "She will come with us; she is in great danger to be left behind, and will tire quickly on such journey. Many enemies run unchecked through the Riddermark and I would not be pleased to see a woman fall when she could have been under the company of my own éored."
He turned to her and said in the same, sharpened tone, "Have you eaten?"
She shook her head and after a hasty introduction to his lieutenant, a man called Éothain, she was seated in the midst of man unblinking men staring at her as she ate the remains of their cold supper.
If she had once thought it to be a party to be in the company of so many men, especially ones as tall and good-looking as these were, she was grievously mistaken. They were very cold towards her, and she didn't really understand why. Well, maybe she did. She was a stranger walking through a place that Éomer had said was crawling with enemies. If only she could tell them Gandalf was there, but he had asked her not to say a word until he arrived at Edoras, and unless these men really threatened to kill her, she wasn't going to go against her own word.
It was a chilly night and she pulled her cloak around her, closing her eyes to rest, even as light was starting to appear on the horizon. After a few hours of lousy sleep, she was shaken awake by Éothain, who stared at her contemptuously before helping her to her feet. "We will ride early," he said unperturbedly. She nodded and gathered her things, feeling even more out of place. They were all still staring at her, only now they could judge her by the sunrise. Fastening her cloak, she took the last few precious moments to braid her hair and get it out of her face before the horsemen pulled out.
It was Éomer who bore her on his own steed and swiftly they rode out, the forest falling away. It was uncomfortable to ride in front of him, yet she did so without complaint, no matter how hard the harness and the saddle hurt her backside. They stopped only twice and by nightfall they saw bright fires lit on the next hill; they had closed in on the enemy. Feeling as though her heart were in her throat, she sat picking at her unappetizing dinner while listening to the riders make plans on how to surprise the enemy come midnight.
Seeing the Third Marshal alone by the horses, she swallowed the end of the stew and moved forward so she could speak with him in private. She didn't want to be overheard, especially since all they did was scowl and gaze at her. He turned when he heard her footfalls and glared at her, but didn't say anything.
"I, uh, heard what you were planning on doing," she said quickly, pulling out the sword he'd returned to her before they broke camp. "I could help you, you know, if you asked for it."
"If we need your services, my lady, I would ask you before the eve of battle," he said, his eyes glittering in the flickering firelight. "I can ask no more of you." Stepping past her, he returned to the camp, leaving Buffy feeling confused. Had he just refused an offer? From her? She was the Slayer! This was her life, her role, her destiny… she had never been turned down before… until now.
They were discussing battle plans when she returned. Not one of them looked at her as she sat calmly. They were talking about going through the southern-most edges of the forest to circle about and surprise the Uruk-hai head-on. Buffy secretly supported this plan, but didn't voice her opinions. She wasn't there to plan this battle, no. They saw her as a mere refugee seeking protection with the fast-paced Rohirrim. She smirked at the looks she could see on their faces when they at last figured out who she was. Finally, they all rose as one and clasped hands.
Then, they broke out their heavier armor. She noted the stack of shields and spears. Bending down, she lifted one up and observed it, taking a few expert swings before replacing it on top of the others. With a small sigh, she returned to sit by the fire alone, watching as the men gathered their weapons and their horses.
"We will return for you," Éomer promised her in his deep voice. She didn't look at him, but felt his eyes on her back.
After waiting a moment for a response he finally figured he wasn't about to get, he led the others off into the darkness.
At once, Buffy leapt to her feet, fastening her cloak with sudden speed. This wasn't her battle, but she wasn't about to let them push her out of it at all. She was still the Slayer and that had to count for something. Strapping on her belt, she sheathed her sword and dagger, pulling her cloak over them. Glancing at the remaining traces of the camp, she turned and headed into the forest, following the path the others had taken.
It took her not one hour to come across the end of the line, as the horses were moving far too slow to make any sound to alert their enemy of their approach. Midnight was approaching, as the sky above them was now pitch-black, even out of the cover of the dark forest surrounding them. It was comforting to be in here again, knowing that even though their eyes spied her, at least they weren't scowling and saying how unfit she was to be in such a place, as she had been privileged to most of this day.
If they only knew the truth of what she really was and her true reasons for being in this land.
The horses sprang suddenly, and in the wild chaos, Buffy pulled out her sword and leapt into battle, running over the small bits of field grass until she noticed the flank of Orc falling to the swords of the horsemen. She didn't spot the two Halflings crawling on the ground behind her, but she did see the Uruk following them out. She sprang at him from a crouch, snarling as she drove her sword from shoulder to shoulder and kicking him aside. Seeing her as a formidable prey, the other Orc around her attacked. It was the chance she had been waiting for.
She fought with the skill and agility of her previous self, kicking and sparring to the best of her abilities as the Orc bodies piled around her. It was only when she noticed a horse heading straight for her without a rider to its back did she realize how out of control she must have seemed… what if all of the men had been wiped out. She would have turned to run from the wild beast, but a hand shot out of nowhere and pulled her upwards.
"Ride with me, Lady of the North," a quiet voice said in her ear and she nodded, holding her sword out as they swung back into battle. With both of them riding, he could easily steer as she sparred, taking down one Orc after another. When it was clear that many had fallen, most of the men turned back to see both horses and their kin on the ground, dead. What they didn't expect to see was one last attack on a sole white steed in the center. As the horse and its riders toppled over, they both rose as the beast rolled and continued to fight.
"Onwards!" Éothain cried out as the charge was sounded.
Buffy stood over the injured man, who had been fallen by a blade to the shin. He clutched at his leg as she fought above him, finally thrusting her sword through the chest of the final Orc before panting with exhausting and falling to her knees beside the injured man.
This was an older man she saw as she removed his helmet, cradling his head in her hands. "I knew when I saw you that you were no ordinary woman…" he rasped out as his eyes started to roll.
"You're not gonna die on my watch," she said, grabbing a cloak from the ground and wrapping it around his freely bleeding leg. "You saved my neck… don't you dare die on me."
Éomer and the rest of his men were now circling the camp and piling the bodies of the dead. Buffy remained at the side of the man rapidly bleeding to death, until she realized the flow of blood had been stemmed. She helped him to his feet, and only at the sharp gasp behind her did she turn to face Éothain.
"She has ridden into battle!" the Lieutenant called out, looking astounded. Éomer joined him, his chainmail vest covered in the black Orc blood.
"Thus she has," Éomer replied darkly, seeing the look of concentration on her face. "What are you doing here?" he asked as he approached them. Two men came and took the injured from her, but not before he had the chance to utter she had saved his life.
"I told you to remain at the camp."
"I am not one of your girls that you can just boss around!" she shouted back. "I don't do service to you or to anyone in this country, so give it up already!"
"Thus, you are a spy for Saruman!" Éothain replied, drawing out his sword.
Buffy pulled out her own rapier in the blink of an eye and held it out to him. "Put it down," she said in a voice of cold-chipped steel.
"My lord, this is madness!" the injured man cried as he was placed upon a surviving mount. "She has fought for Rohan and at the risk of her own life!"
Éomer turned to regard the woman, who still held her sword aimed at his first lieutenant, who was unyielding. "Lay down your arms," he said at last, staring at Éothain, although his comment was too directed at the young woman who stood there in her own rage. "Do as I say!"
They both pulled their swords away and sheathed them, blatant mistrust on each of their faces as they turned and continued about their tasks. Buffy turned and continued to help drag bodies to a large heap. Once they had all been collected, they were set ablaze. They made their plan to ride for the Entwade (which Buffy had no idea about) and then would turn south towards Edoras. Leading her forward, Éothain reluctantly gave her the reins and armaments of one of the men who had once rode upon the mare. "Take great care; she is yours to ride now."
Buffy, who had never been horseback riding before, found herself the center of attention even in the pre-dawn light as she scampered aboard her horse. As she sat on top of the mare, which snorted and darted sideways under the body of an unfamiliar host, she pulled on a helmet and a pair of thick leathery gloves; and wrapped herself in the Rohirric cloak. Even as they took off in the direction they had come from, she barely remembered the two Halflings she had seen just the day before.
It was around midday when the thundering of hooves was heard over the hills. Buffy was riding to the rear, as the events of the night before had tired her out greatly. Being the Slayer, she had insurmountable strength. But that didn't mean she was invincible by any means. The injured, a man called Hálas, rode beside her, attempting to engage her in conversation. She discovered through their brisk ride that his daughter had been killed by the Dunlanders upon his family's return to Edoras from the North. It was a sad story to hear and one that reminded her of Kendra falling to Drusilla. In as few words as possible, she told this story, saying that she knew of a powerful woman cut down by another in a battle of wills and of dark forces.
As they charged down yet another hill, she was caught unawares when a loud voice from behind them shouted, "What news from the North, Riders of Rohan?"
As one, the entire column doubled back, lifting their spears. Buffy turned her horse with great care before following the others, all of whom were circling three solitary figures, their spears tipping towards their center. Buffy and the last of the column pulled a second circle, yet her spear was aimed straight at the heart of… he had to be an Elf. No one could be that tall with those pointed ears and not be considered as such. She held her tongue as Éomer charged forward.
"Who are you and what are you doing in this land?" he demanded of the three, who looked unconcerned despite the fact that there were nearly seventy spears aimed at them, and nearly another thirty bows were cocked and ready to fire. "Speak quickly!"
Someone that she couldn't see stepped forward. She tried to edge her mare aside, but the horse was unwilling to follow her meager attempts to move it, and she sat on her steed, instead listening to the voice.
"I am called Strider," a masculine voice said. "I come out of the North. I am hunting Orcs."
Buffy's eyes widened. Was this the same Strider Galadriel had spoken of? She blinked and held her tongue; she would ask her questions later, once Éomer stopped playing evil-Rambo-on-horseback.
"At first I thought you were Orcs," Éomer replied. "But now I see that it is not so. Had you taken them on, you would have gone from hunter to prey as they would have outnumbered you. And you yourself are a strange man, for no man called Strider would have your own. Where have you come from?" His eyes turned upon their Elvish cloaks. "And are you of Elf-kind?"
"No," said Strider. "Only one of us is an Elf. This is Legolas of the distant Mirkwood. We have passed through Lothlórien, and the Lady of the Golden Wood has presented us with her favor and these gifts."
Éomer's eyes slid to the other two travelers. "They say that those who pass through the Wood never return. In her favor, you must be sorcerers to escape her nets. And you," he said, indicating the other two. "Why do you not speak?"
A deep, stout voice spoke from the center of the circle. "Give me your name, horse-master, and I shall give you mine and more."
"I am Éomer, son of Éomund, and am called the Third Marshal of the Riddermark."
Buffy still had no idea what this meant.
The stout voice spoke up again, and Buffy could sense the anger radiating from him. "Then, Éomer, let Gimli the Dwarf Glóin's son warn you against your foolish words. You speak of the Lady as evil, and she is fair beyond your thoughts, and only your dim wit can excuse you."
There was a murmuring of malcontent as the riders closed in around these visitors. Éomer dismounted and stood before the three. "I would cut off your head, Dwarf, if it stood but a little higher from the ground."
"He is not alone!" said the Elf, who reached for his arrow and held it to his bow in less than the blink of an eye. "You would die before your stroke fell."
Éomer unsheathed his sword as the others closed in, but a figure stepped into Buffy's sight and she saw that he was a tall man. He put his hand up and stepped between them. "I ask for your pardon," he said quickly. "Will you hear us out before you attack?"
"I will," Éomer said, and lifted his hand. As one, all of the spears were lifted and the arrows were taken back to the hands of those with the bows. The horses backed away slightly as the Third Marshal returned to look at the three. Buffy could see them all clearly and hoped she appeared inconspicuous enough to not be seen as anything but one of these riders from the South. If she didn't, she was as good as dead. "First, tell me your right name."
"I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn, heir of Elendil and bearer of Andúril, the flame of the west, in which the shards of Narsil have been re-forged." Opening his cloak, he held up a sword to the bright light. At this, Éomer looked amazed, and he was not the only one. "I must ask of you, if you do not serve Saruman, whom then do you serve?"
"I serve not one except Théoden King, son of Thengel, the Lord of the Mark. Not idly do we allow passage to strangers of this land." He paused, and Buffy knew he must be thinking of her, some wayward traveler with a strange sword they'd just happened to pick up near the forest. "Our borders are threatened and more darkness crosses into this country by day. As for Saruman, he has poisoned the mind of the King, and the poison spreads. I must ask of you now: who do you serve? What are you doing on this land?"
"I serve no man," the one called Aragorn replied. "I pursue the servants of Saruman; they have taken captive two of my friends."
At this, Buffy's eyes widened and she remembered the Halflings. She bit back a gasp as she covered her mouth with her gloved hand.
"I will come with the host to speak with Théoden King, as war lies with Sauron or against him. I must first seek and pursue the orc-host which has taken my friends. What can you tell us?"
"That you have no need to pursue them further," Éomer replied. "The Orcs are destroyed."
"And our friends?" Aragorn asked promptly.
"We found none but the Orcs," Éomer said. "None survived."
"We speak of Hobbits," said a smaller man, leaning heavily on a battle-axe. "Did you see two little Hobbits?"
"They would be small, only children to your eyes," Aragorn said quickly.
"Hobbits?" Éomer asked inquiringly. "This is a strange name. And what may they be?"
"A strange name for a strange folk, but they are very dear to us," the Dwarf continued. "Those of Minas Tirith have spoken of these Halflings. The Hobbits are Halflings."
"Halflings!" Éothain said, laughing disdainfully as he dismounted and joined Éomer's side. "Long have these Halflings been sung in old songs and children's tales."
"As for your friends," Éomer said quickly, "we had no sight of them."
At this, all three of their party exchanged a troubled look. Buffy fought the will to speak, since she had seen them just the day before the Uruk-hai had been slaughtered.
"Éothain, tell the éored to stand down and to make ready to ride to the Entwade. Leave us, now."
Éothain mounted his horse and all other riders pulled out, but not before Buffy met the cool gaze of the one named Aragorn. Turning her horse and lifting her spear, she rode off with the others.
"You speak the truth," Éomer said quietly as the men before him seemed to relax slightly. "Yet you have not told all."
Aragorn told of his tale then, setting out from Imladris and intending to go to Minas Tirith with Boromir, the first-borne of the Steward of Gondor, to help aid in their war with Sauron. He concluded his tale with talk of Gandalf the Grey.
"Gandalf Greyhame is known to us," Éomer said. "But his name no longer holds favor to our King. Gandalf escaped from Isengard and came to Théoden for help, but was ignored and turned away. He has fallen ill in the King's favor, for Gandalf had borrowed Shadowfax, the lord of the Mearas, the finest of the King's steeds." A shadow crossed his eyes. "And Shadowfax has returned and will not let another man lay a hand upon him."
Aragorn continued his tale of the fall of both Gandalf by the Balrog of Morgoth and Boromir. The news of Boromir's death was very tragic for the young Marshal to hear.
After a moment, Éomer continued. "We both have need of haste," he said swiftly. "You may go and make haste; every hour lost hastens your loss. I will lend your horses, but ask that they be returned to Meduseld in the show of good faith between our men."
"We will meet again, Éomer. We will fight in battle and we will draw our swords together," Aragorn said to him in an undertone.
Turning, Éomer let out a whistle and two steeds sprang forward. "Hasufel! Arod!" He turned to the men. "May your fortunes be greater than their previous riders."
Éothain was leading the riders up again as Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli mounted their horses and turned about. Éothain rode forward and sought counsel with Éomer, who stood upon his heels to listen.
"Word has come from the Rohirrim that your friends had been spotted not three days ago by one of our own."
"Who is this seer and why does he bring us this news upon our haste?" Aragorn asked.
"That is not of your concern," Éomer replied. Yet, he turned and to his own aggravation, a horse singled itself out from the party and joined with Éothain's.
"I saw your friends three days ago," Buffy said in a low voice, hoping to disguise her femininity, but she should have known better than to fool an Elf. He stared at her, but her eyes were on Aragorn. "They were being whipped by the Uruk-hai."
"This is grave news indeed," the Dwarf said, staring at this figure. "What is your name, horse-man?"
Éomer glared at this man and stepped before his horse. "As I have said, this matter is not of your concern." He turned to Éothain and the second rider. "Go back to the column. We will make haste across the Riddermark and turn south to Edoras, for we have much to tell Théoden King." As the two riders set out, Éomer mounted his own horse and turned to the others. "Look for your friends, but do not trust to hope. It has forsaken these lands."
That said, he rode off towards the column of men. As Aragorn turned Hasufel towards Isengard, he saw the smoke curling from a great distance. With a nod, both horses trotted away.
As they set out, Éomer drew his horse alongside the woman's. She didn't look at him, but he gazed at her. "You should not have done that," he said in a dark voice.
"Why not?" she asked, turning her head to glance at him. "You just sat there like some doomsday device and told them all the bad. I mean, I understand why. I get that now."
"Your tongue is strange to me," Éomer said, frowning.
"Yeah, I get that a lot," she muttered as she urged her horse forward towards the column now cantering across the plain. The last thing she needed was for the overgrown man to keep staring at her as though she were some sorceress. The time would come later for that.
- - - - -
Author's Endnote: This chapter is a "gift" to a good friend of ours (who actually is a co-leader of our guild), for her amazing effort during the whole American campaign thing. She put her life on hold this past week to basically be a huge voice for a candidate and spent nineteen hours counting ballots in a small, quite rural county in Minnesota. They finally stopped at just shy of 5 am. So, sweetie, once you wake up, this chapter is for you. It doesn't have any romantic mush, but it will come when the journey ends.
In the next chapter… Buffy meets a Snake and faces the hopelessness she once thought was for dopes. Or so she thought.