Miscellaneous
Pairings: There are book pairings. We are still debating on whether or not to have Buffy pairings.
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 books.
Thank You's: I am trying to improve, and your encouragement helps. I only want this to improve and believe me, before we started adding onto it, this story sucked.
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 loses a Wizard and gains an army.
Chapter Warning: We have at last returned to a Katrina-chapter. It follows the book and then goes off on its own little tangent. It's the shorter of the next two chapters, but since this is leading up to our first battle sequence (and one we didn't want to plagiarize or summarize completely), so begins the beginning of the end of the innocence.
- - - - -
Chapter 7
Black Night
By Katrina Claire
- - - - -
Need consumed their drive to hurry to the north. From the small snatches of conversation that Buffy could hear, the King was worried that by the time they found the men who guarded the western borders of their country, none would be left alive. The entire plain was sounded by the pounding of hoofs and the lack of men's voices. Such was the grimness of this day.
Gandalf had spoken very little to her, but this she didn't mind. She concentrated on staying ahead of the more experienced riders. The Elf and Dwarf, on the other hand, were a completely different story. They rode quite close to her, since she really didn't know what she was doing. Apparently the Elf could see this, and the horse followed this other one gallantly. It was finally explained to her that they were siblings. This mare was a sister to Arod, the steed the two rode. This would explain why this mare followed the path of this other horse so diligently.
They rode until darkness came over them and it was far too dark to see anything anymore. If she thought it was uncomfortable around men during the daylight, it was nothing to how apprehensive she was to get off of her horse and walk around at night. Many blinking eyes stared at her over fireplaces. There were mutterings about strange women in this part, and Buffy was only too happy to ignore them at the present time. These people had no time for confrontations when war lied to the north and west.
She joined Gandalf at his fire. He was an old man and although he threatened to intimidate her (but normally couldn't), she could at least sleep around him. Many of the beautiful horses were now calmly resting in the valley, with night guards standing watch. Buffy would have volunteered to be one of them until Gandalf told her to rest.
She took him up on his word, but when the horns sounded at dawn, she was wide awake, staring at the dark sky above her, thinking. She had been having nightmares lately about people dying, the people she loved. After three or four hours of this, she finally rose and started walking about. Gandalf was sleeping. The men were, for the most part, resting. The Elf, she was startled to see, was walking around with his eyes open singing. Seeing as he was the only other person awake, she decided to talk to him.
He turned around when he heard the footsteps and glanced behind him. Frowning, his eyes drifted down until he saw the tired, weary expression of the one woman of their encampment.
"Hello," she said, gesturing to the sleeping bodies around them. "I'm not disturbing you, am I?"
"I was resting," he said, his brilliant blue eyes taking in her appearance. She wore her armaments over her dress, which looked very odd indeed, yet the look was fitting for her. It brought a touch of femininity when otherwise there would be none. "My people can rest with our eyes open," he explained when he saw the confusion on her face.
"Oh," she said, giving him a nervous smile. "Sorry… I didn't mean to interrupt your… were you sleeping?" She sounded guilty now.
"I was not," he replied quickly, before she could hurry away. "Your apologies were not needed."
"I couldn't sleep," Buffy said, gazing at all of the fires in the hills. "Being a fighter, it takes something else to be stuck in a big Hall for days without the fight. I guess I just miss it most of all."
"You are what you are," Legolas replied in his impassive tone.
Buffy nodded in the darkness. "You're telling me… I spent my life dedicated to slaying. But now…I suppose I could bore Gandalf silly with all of my old victories."
"If you fight in this war, you will have many to share these tales with," Legolas told her comfortingly. "You may not know this, but your skills may be most welcome when the time comes."
"I think you mean when I fight," Buffy said with a sigh. Then, she remembered something: both he and Aragorn had known what a Dagnir was. "How did you know what I was?" she asked.
"Dagnir was once a character in a legend of tales," Legolas explained. "There was a woman who led a band of amazons on a quest to claim a relic and on their way her calling came to be that she could fight all of the forces of darkness. There has never been any truth to the stories and many have claimed it was just the tales of children."
"It sounds like a good story," Buffy said conversationally. "Perhaps you'll tell me it sometime."
"When this war is over and we both survive, I will tell you any tale," Legolas told her. He could see her smile in the darkness. "You should lie down and rest. Morning will come and we will be pressed to ride again."
Buffy returned to her flat ground and lay upon it, but she knew she wouldn't be able to sleep. Instead she spent the time thinking about the events over the past few weeks. She was used to the fighting, it wasn't much of a problem. The question of the waiting was. She wasn't good with sitting back and waiting for the action to come, since she had spent her life dedicated to making her own. Despite dwelling on what she wasn't doing, her thoughts turned to the newest companions of the King's company.
The Elf was absolutely… passive. He didn't strike her as someone who cared very much about the affairs of men, but he apparently had a friendship with a man who was a crownless King. That was just her first impression after their first conversation together. Once she saw him fight… she would understand him better. She wasn't the best judge of character, no. Her skills had been reserved for other things. As for Aragorn, the first word that came to mind wasn't one someone like her should be thinking. There was more than just something about him.
She knew the night was passing, yet her senses were attuned to every last sound of the land around her. She felt the ground murmuring with the sounds of hoof-beats from the horses just a few hundred feet away. She heard the sounds of snoring, which seemed to be a custom, since she did ride with a full company of men. There was stillness in the air, a sense of foreboding that something bad was going to happen. Not knowing how bad it could get was making the Slayer restless and this was one of the many reasons why sleep wasn't coming to her. The darkness above her head seemed to be echoing some shadow of what it truly was, and since she was a creature born from the darkness and one that thrived in it, she knew all too well that darkness hardly played by the rules.
At dawn, she opened her eyes when the horns rang and rose, pulling on her armor. She decided to forego the helmet, but the rest of the armor was quite fitting despite the fact it probably had come from some younger person.
Within an hour, they were on the road again. Buffy had forced down a bit of what looked like oatmeal, but she didn't want to hold back these men anymore. There was a sense of urgency in the air, a sense that spread throughout the day. It was as though the darkness was rapidly closing around them, without the faintest trace of an enemy. She supposed that her Slayer senses were both a blessing and a curse in this world, since she hardly thought that the men would understand her intuition, but those not of the realm of Men likely could.
The morning was quite beautiful and Buffy fully appreciated it as they sped along. But by mid-morning, she came to realize that something was terribly wrong. The air was far too warm for February (even for a girl who'd spent her entire life in a state devoid of snow), and there was a great darkness to the east. As the company rode towards Isengard, the darkness continued to spread.
After six hours hard ride, Théoden gave the order to rest, for no horse should have to endure a full day's stride and at night gallop into battle. They rested less than an hour before continuing on. The clouds were gathering behind them, staining the sky dark grey. She knew by the looks in the eyes of the men around her that this wasn't a good sign. For all she knew, it was the seventh sign of the apocalypse.
They finally stopped when the reached the edge of the White Mountains, or so Gandalf said. The horizon was now a deep blood-red color, and blackness was fast spreading over them. In the last light of day, they spied a rider from a great distance. He was following in the last of the column, and soon rode up on his horse to the end. Buffy rose from where she'd been sitting, eyeing this newcomer warily. As he stepped into the light, she saw that his shield was splintered and there were dents in his helmet. He looked exhausted and breathed heavily as other riders started to gather around them.
"Is Éomer here?" he rasped, his hands on his knees as he breathed.
Buffy, ever the lady, quickly offered him her canteen and he took it gratefully, not daring to question why a woman clad in the armor of his country rode with a number of men. She turned to the men she had ridden with and immediately they seemed to understand her question and went off in search of the First Marshal.
Before the Marshal could be summoned, the man started speaking rather quickly. "You have come at last, but are too few. Saruman's forces have been emptied and spill across our land. We were driven back at the fords of Isen; many perished at the crossing. Erkenbrand of Westford has drawn off those men he could gather and rides for Helm's Deep."
Buffy didn't know what he was talking about, but there was something else going on. She knew it, and she turned towards Gandalf. Whatever skills she needed for this task were coming to her, apparently with the gift of perception. She saw the wizard ride closer on Shadowfax before breaking towards the plains, looking mildly troubled.
"Where is Éomer?" the man asked again, this time addressing himself to the woman, who gazed at him intently. "Tell him there is no hope ahead. He must return to Edoras before the wolves of Isengard return."
A horse surged forward and the man looked up, expecting to see Éomer, but the figure on the beast was none other than his King. The man's eyes widened with wonder. "My pardon, lord," he said, gasping again as he fell to his knees, "I did not see…"
"Come, Ceorl," Théoden said as the man stumbled back to his feet. He glanced uncertainly at the woman, but she was staring at the King, a look of enraptured delight on her face. "This company will not part without battle. We will ride to the aid of Erkenbrand."
Buffy left this company then and turned to see Gandalf in the distance. She thanked her advanced sight, because in this gloom and darkness, normal eyes would not have been able to see what she did. Shadowfax was returning now, and Gandalf stopped before his charge and hastily dismounted. He glanced in the darkness at Buffy, who stood there quite alone, blinking up at him.
"I felt it too," she said as he thought of how to explain this new situation to her. "It's coming."
"We must hurry," he said, and he led Shadowfax along in the darkness, Buffy following closely behind, her own steed left behind with the others. Torch lights were the only thing that lit the air, since the stars above seemed to have vanished behind the storm.
"Ride, Théoden," Gandalf said upon arriving in the King's company. "You must ride to Helm's Deep, and you must make haste." He glanced at Buffy, who stepped forward. "I have an errand to run," he told her quietly, his tone urgent. "You will look to my coming at dawn." To the others, he lifted his sword. All stared at him, uncertain of whether or not to accept what this wizard had said was true. "I will leave you in the passing of my company," he continued, and Buffy nodded firmly; she understood what the signs meant. "Shadowfax must bear me on a swift errand."
He turned to Éomer, Aragorn and the other riders. "Keep well, until my return! Farewell!"
Then, with the speed of a bullet, he darted into the darkness.
For a moment, there was no movement. Only silence.
Had Gandalf just left her alone in this group? Damn. Gandalf was known for his wit and wisdom, and she knew she didn't have half of the mind-power he possessed. Turning, she offered a hasty smile to the men as her horse came forward with the rest of the men of the back company. Despite the fact he had just taken off like a shooting star, Buffy knew that standing here waiting to be picked off by an unseen enemy was a very stupid thing to do. Her skills could best be used elsewhere, and since the scouts were complaining about their lack of sight, she made a quick decision and chose to stick with it.
Mounting her horse and rubbing its own armor-clad nose, she spun her horse around in the direction Gandalf had gone.
Buffy rode out to the scouts who rode for the south. "Would you mind if I went with you?" she asked. She could barely see their faces in the dimness of the evening light, or lack thereof.
"Not at all," replied the scout with a nod. If she was the only woman riding through this camp under the grace of Mithrandir, a friend and an ally she was indeed.
Buffy gave him a tense smile, came about, and rode for Théoden. "My… err… lord," she started as the King turned his own steed to face her. "I know that right now I'm in an awkward position considering the one vouching for me just took off. Anyway… I think my skills can best be used elsewhere… but, not here. I'm going to go south with your scouting party, since I can see better than they can."
Théoden nodded, gazing upon this woman, whose face he saw in the reflection of a flickering fire-light. "If Mithrandir has placed his faith in you, so shall I."
"Good, because I wasn't offering it as a choice," she replied, glancing at the entire circle of them. They all appeared drawn, their faces tired and worried as though they were expecting to find something much, much worse than what they had already seen. Knowing that it was finally her time to break away from the comfortable circle of protection and become the Slayer again. Her senses were already on overdrive with the darkness factor; the rest would simply fall into line.
The scouts took the dangerous road to the south. Only the small flickering lights from the highest mountain peaks provided them with any light, but the horses seemed to know their own way.
All night, they rode. It could have been longer, since the black night seemed to grow darker. The scouts she rode with lit small torches and bore them about for only minutes at a time lest they'd be spotted by an enemy archer.
There were cries and blasts from the horns of other scouting parties, but Buffy didn't realize the full extent of their march until she came to a place where refugees who'd been fleeing to Helm's Deep had been cut down by what appeared to be the enemy.
All three of their party halted. Buffy descended from her mare and moved in the darkness to bend down beside the body of a child. An arrow had pierced his neck and her mouth tightened. There were nearly a hundred of them lying in a perfect row, picked off one by one. Tears came to her eyes as she saw babies crushed under the weight of their fleeing mothers, the elderly beheaded. Their faces wore the same look of mingled terror that she'd seen upon her arrival in Edoras. Each body was more sickening than the last and Buffy, who had seen much, was silent as she checked every last one of them over, checking for any sign of life amongst the entire line.
For the first time since she'd arrived in Middle Earth not three weeks before, Buffy began to understand what it was these people were trying to accomplish – what they were sacrificing and what they were fighting for.
"They had no defense," a scout said, arriving at her side, his hand clasping his spear, his eyes full of disgust as he glanced through the line of entangled limbs and the long stream of blood. "It looks to be an ambush of old."
"They were just children," she said, her voice was quiet with underlying anger. Sure, she'd seen things. She'd been the cause of many of them. But seeing dead children cut down like cattle was so mortifying, it took her breath away. Every single demon had a calling card, and children were one of them. But this was not something she expected in a world where electricity and other things didn't exist. She turned so that the scout wouldn't be able to see her face. Brushing back a lock of blonde hair that had fallen from its knot at the back of her head, she bent down over the body of a young woman, who had been pregnant. Her eyes were still open, staring lifelessly at the black night above them. "This must've been one hell of a battle," she growled.
"This is how they take our land," the second scout said, the two horses following his as he walked back over to where the other two of his company stood, checking the last of the encampment. "They have been destroying everything in their path; they bring fire and burn rick, cot and tree."
Buffy rose from the body of an elderly man and gave both men a hard look. Gandalf had said she would understand this world once she'd seen the damage. She had a feeling she'd only begun to see it.
Sending back one of the two, she and the other kept riding southward still. It was only when she heard the sound of voices did she stop.
"Do you hear that?" the scout asked, sounding apprehensive as he reached for a torch, yet her hand came out of the darkness and pushed his hand away.
"I hear them," she said, closing her eyes. There were the frenzied sounds of hoofs pounding the plain, and they were heading in their direction from the southwest. "They're fleeing."
By the time they had caught up with nearly forty men on horseback who rode as though the fires of hell were attacking them, the second scout had returned, looking exhausted.
What he found was Mithrandir's charge talking to men of a broken company, sent out from Helm's Deep to defend the mountain passes. They had been guarding the refugees on their trek south towards the great Hornburg, but had been ambushed by Orc from the mountain hills.
"We come with Théoden King," said the scout who had just arrived once he'd been asked his name.
"What business has a woman with our riders?" one of the young lieutenants asked, eyeing Buffy under the bright fire of his torchlight.
"I'm a scout riding with your King," Buffy said coolly. "I'm riding because I happen to see things in the dark. Where is your leader?"
"He is dead," the lieutenant replied, his horse darting sideways nervously. More sounds were heard. They were cries in a language Buffy had never heard before. "We ride to find Erkenbrand, but he has not been heard from."
This wasn't exactly discomforting, since Buffy had a slight clue that this guy was the one Gandalf had gone to find. Instead, she spoke up. "We ride for Helm's Deep and scout ahead for Théoden and his men."
"We will ride with you to the valley," the lieutenant replied. "But to the mountain hills, we must defend. More of our people come every hour, and many are slaughtered before we can attack. We must do something to protect them, and a Captain we have not found."
She glanced into his weary face, with his defeated eyes and haunted smile. It was his eyes that captured her. They were beguiling, hopeless, defeated. They were the eyes that had seen far too much of war, the eyes of the dead man still walking. These people had no leader. She was a leader. The choice was really that simple. She turned to the scouts, who were watching her fearfully.
"I'm going with them," she said, gesturing to the lieutenant and the rest of his broken men. "They could probably use another weapon. You should probably go back and tell your King."
Without waiting for a reply, she turned back to the company. "You might as well make room, because I'm coming with you." With a grim look on her face, she pulled out her sword and held it into the light. "But we should hurry if you're helping others escape. We don't have much time."
They rode off then, all of them following behind a woman with an Elvish sword and no helm atop her head. As she rode, she pulled out the helmet and plunked it on top of her head, feeling it was rather thoughtful to be safe than sorry.
Both scouts returned to Théoden with the news that Merilin had ridden away with a company of leaderless men who had once served Erkenbrand. At this news, the men all looked at one another: they would never see her alive again.
Éomer was touched by this news most of all; his sister had befriended this woman, no matter what madness drove her to her decisions. He feared for her safety, yet knew that even with her extraordinary faith in her abilities and the capabilities of Rohan, he was never going to see her alive again.
Buffy and the company soon reached the mountain pass. In the distance, Buffy could see many lights coming into the low valley. The company of the King rode to the east; she could no longer see them. They were six hours, maybe less from Helm's Deep, yet they would defend this pass until the end would come.
"Who are you?" the lieutenant asked as this woman dismounted and stood on the ground, a good head shorter than the rest of the men.
She twisted her hand up underneath her helmet and scratched the back of her head. "I told you I'm just a scout. I'm called Merilin and I'm in the service of Mithrandir."
"You are naught but a child!" an older man said as he gazed at her with wonder. "What madness would bring a woman of your age to battle so soon in her time?"
"I've fought my fair share of war," she replied as she turned, staring into the darkness. "I can feel them moving, but I can't see them. Not yet." In her head, an idea was starting to stir. The black night had worn on forever, yet she knew there would be no dawn for Rohan or for any land in this world. It was her job to make sure the sun would shine again, and it would start with these soldiers who gazed at her, both in wonder and pity. They wondered about her power, for she rode with Gandalf, a powerful White Wizard. They also pitied her, since she was the only woman in this world mad enough to stand with thirty men at the top of a valley defending it against the foes rapidly approaching from the north.
They had been waiting for only an hour when she sent a scout towards another band to their west, fleeing before the many lights behind them. The scout was asked to find out whether or not there was a leader with this group, and if there was, he was to return to the pass to defend it. If there wasn't, he was to be told to join with this company to defend the pass despite being leaderless.
As they waited, Buffy decided to ask her questions. "So, Helm's Deep… it's a fortress, right?"
Apparently their stories were quite comparable to the ones she'd had to endure from Gandalf – long, full of prose, and with little point. She tried helping it along by asking more questions and decided against throttling.
She knew she was out of her element, since she didn't know who they'd be fighting, but she was willing to bet it would be bad. Anyone who could cut down such innocent women and children were monsters. Demons, even. This she knew how to fight. The thought of facing the menaces who had brought down an entire party of innocents was fueling her instinct and it brought the fire back into her eyes.
She didn't know much time had gone by when the scout returned with twenty six other men, who were all wearing the same vacant, empty expressions as the soldiers that rode with her.
"Okay, you guys," she said, moving to face them. Only a handful of them were on horseback, and her own mare wasn't appreciating the fact she was stalled out on the edge of some very sharp rock with a rider who was literally out of her mind for choosing to be at this location in the first place. Yet Buffy had a plan, she truly did. "Do any of you have any bows?"
Apparently, they did. She glanced in amazement at the large number of bows and the quivers of arrows now waving before her eyes. Grinning, she took one that had fallen onto the ground, her eyes narrowing. A slight memory of the attack at her high-school graduation came back to her. "This is what we're gonna do," she said, turning back to them. "We'll use these, and we'll be here." She nodded to the bank of rocks stretching above their heads. "If they're trying to kill these people, we'll be waiting to surprise them. They have to come through this pass, and we're not going to let them. We'll line up here, and if they get past this line," here, she drew a line in the dirt with the toe of her boot, "we'll attack with our pointy weapons. Understand?"
"What can you hope to achieve against an army that outnumbers us?" one of them asked.
"That's the beauty of an ambush," she said, her eyes sparkling strangely in the null light as she scampered on top of the rocks, falling easily to the ground behind the precipice. "The element of surprise is in our favor; they probably expected us to be at the Keep by now."
They were staring at her now, not daring to hope that this woman had a clue what she was doing. Maybe she didn't know what they were facing, but how to fight, this she knew. And she knew how to do it well. She saw a few of them exchange a look while trying to debate whether or not to fall in line with her or not.
"I know you're all scared," Buffy said quietly. "I'm scared, too. But if we all do our parts, we'll be the ones left standing. It's going to be hard and we're risking our lives here, but we're going to do it my way. If you have an idea, I'm listening, but talk fast, 'cause we're running out of time."
There were only sixteen horses released into the wild, including her own loyal mare, which she had decided to name 'Faith' for the occasion, as the mare's submissive loyalty was quite existent at the worst of times. Hearing the footfalls of the enemy approaching, the men hurried to get into position.
Gone was the girl who had just watched her city fall from beneath her feet. Gone was the girl who came to reckless decisions based on an instinct that had kept her and her friends alive. Gone was every last trace of the old life she had known. All that remained was the Slayer. And she was ready for whatever came after her.
Buffy kept the bow, since the rider had told her it had come from one of the dead Riders they'd left behind. She paced them evenly along this entrance. There were other cries as they could see riders in the valley fleeing before the force, and certainly enough, wild men bearing axes and torches started storming up their cavern. Buffy held up a hand barely visible in the dark night.
"Wait!" she shouted, as the men tensed, holding their arrows at the ready, their bowstrings taught with the effort. She, too, drew an arrow and held her bow ready. "Go for their heads."
The word was rapidly spread. She could see the large company of men from the King's line moving steadily south in the distance. Hearing the crack of a branch beneath her position, she turned her attention back to the men rising and aiming their arrows downwards. The lights proved to be adequate targets as she shouted out, with a passionate fervor, "Now!"
- - - -
Helm's Deep had never looked so welcome for the company arriving. The two scouts who had been with Merilin now rode up with the King's company, until Gamling, an older man who had held these walls, came down to meet Théoden and bent to his knee.
"It is a great host that comes and follows us hard," Éomer reported as the men started riding up to the Hornburg. "We brought back as many men as we could."
His eyes glanced around the company within the gates. His eyes darkened when he didn't see the woman among them. Or, despite the many women rushing to get down to the caves, he didn't see the one he'd wanted to see. He knew he was worried for her safety.
Théoden saw this too and sighed. "Even though she was with us for a short time, her passing will be sung when this war is over." These were the only words he could speak, as there was a cry. Sixteen horses were led up the ramp, and one that Éomer recognized, for it was the horse he'd first given to the woman. He turned his eyes sharply as the horse stopped next to his own, tossing her magnificent head and swishing her neatly-braided tail. Éowyn had told him she'd spent hours in the stables with this horse, washing and grooming it. The horse had been well-cared for. If only her rider was the same.
"Come," said Háma from Éomer's opposite side, staring at the horse with surprise in his eyes. "We must hasten."
Together, the men rode into the Hornburg to prepare for a battle merely a few hours away.
- - - -
The first four volleys were perfect for a surprise attack. However, their enemies' numbers clearly outnumbered their own. Even during the assault, many fled, but others remained. Then she heard voices shouting: they were calling for reinforcements.
"Damn it," she muttered as she threw the bow aside in disgust. She pulled out her sword and removed the helmet in one motion, since she was really staring to despise it. Other men rose around her and unsheathed their own blades, staring at her for instruction, since so far, her plan had worked for par. She gestured for the other men to carry on down the rock and pursue any that were left behind and they went, carrying their bows and their arrows.
A thunderous sound came, and as the first two volleys were released, Buffy leapt down upon these men, swinging her sword. At this distance, she could see they looked human. They had wild black eyes and broken, discolored teeth. She hesitated as their eyes met, eyes wild with hatred met intense eyes of a Slayer. She knew in that one instant that they would not hesitate to kill her, heritage be damned. She looked at them without the eyes of a human woman, but with the eyes of a Slayer.
With a cry, she threw herself into the hoard of them, slashing and cutting her way through. As she parried glancing blows against her armor, she caught a blow to the face and stumbled backwards. Only a dozen men followed her in. Flaming arrows showered upon them, lighting the path ablaze. As soon as her sword had penetrated the chest of one man, she turned around and kicked the axe from another before dueling with him the same fate. She evaded as many weapons sailing towards her as she could, yet as another fist collided with her face, she saw nothing but brilliant white light for a moment before she unleashed everything upon him: weeks of being cooped up in a land she knew nothing about; her frustrations at being stuck inside a Golden Hall with nothing to do but braid Faith's tail; not to mention the unquenchable thirst she carried as a Slayer to, well, slay.
The only problem was, the soldiers standing with her in this battle were not Slayers, they were just mortal men. She watched as one fell, a blade clearly severing a large portion of his neck. His eyes were wide and empty as they met hers. Another figure cried out as a sword impaled his chest and was beaten upon by a small crowd of the wild-men.
She had lost seven men in the first ram and she turned to the survivors, all bruised yet willing to continue this battle.
"Fall back!" she ordered, her voice echoing in the stone walls. "Fall back!"
Turning she grabbed one of the torches and whipped it at the next round of intruders. At this rate, they would be sparring all night, but this company was never going to reach Helm's Deep, her life be damned if they did.
The third onslaught was larger and more frivolous than the one before. These wild men brought something else with them this time: the Uruk-hai. She'd taken down only one of these things (from her skirmish with the Isengard-bound morons to the north), and they were the Turok-han of the vampire world. With a grace given only by her years of extensive training, she leapt into battle, her sword clashing against that of her enemy. The men in their company, after finding out that this woman could truly fight, came to her defense, laying down the cover fire of flaming arrows. The only problem was, these Uruk-hai were in armor. And they were a hell of a lot taller than she was.
Still, she fought. She kept low, chopping at their knees or else cutting into their armor under their arms where their strength was weakest. She moved her way through the entire line and heard the cries of the others being cut down. They didn't exactly appreciate being picked off by someone smaller than she was, and they fought back, tooth and nail. Snarling, one of them took the young woman by the throat, only realizing a moment later she was no longer within his grasp. He was rewarded with a slash to both knees before he was felled by a blunt axe to the back of his neck.
She heard voices then. Human voices. They were screaming as they ran through the chasm, which was lit. Buffy jumped back as women and children fled into the opening and down the rocks towards Helm's Deep. The enormous strength of their enemy was advancing rapidly to the city. What she didn't expect to see were soldiers also fleeing along the path, witless and terrified.
"Stop!" Buffy shouted. Many men turned on horses as even more thundered past. Most of the men carrying the bows were now checking the bodies of their dead enemy to make sure they were really dead. They were now, after dozens of horses had come and trampled them to death. Some of the riders took a horse though, and they turned to the woman, who, in the company of fifty more men, suddenly appeared even larger than her rather insignificant height.
"The wolves of Isengard approach," said a young captain, glancing at the lieutenant who was pulling his arrows from the bodies of their fallen foes. "Where is your leader?"
Many hands at once pointed to the woman. He turned, perplexed, and stared at her. With the fires burning about them on the ground, she was young in years. Her eyes were very intense though, and held years of experience. Her lip was cut and bleeding, and one of her eyes was starting to bruise, yet her gaze did not avert.
"You are their leader?" he asked doubtfully.
"That's right," she said, giving him a grim smile. "There are wolves, you say?"
"They come through this path, since the enemy lines advance closer. They will overcome the refugees now fleeing from the mountains."
"No, they won't," Buffy said, using the sleeve of one of the wild men to wipe the black blood from her sword-blade. "Because we're going to take them out."
She ran back to the rocks and flew over the edge, grasping her bow. "If your men have archers, get back here. We need you."
One by one, burning torches were laid at the archers' feet, so that they could light arrows when the wolves of Isengard came. The captain of his company said there were at least a hundred, if not more. Buffy said they were ready. They'd lost nine good men in this last fight, including the older man who'd questioned her age earlier. After lining them up and tucking all of their horses, which numbered twice as many as the men in her newly formed company, into the caves on the other side of the Coomb, they stood in wait. The fires had burned low now.
A host of weapons were now at their disposal: Orc shields, axes from the wild men and even a crossbow. Buffy picked up the crossbow and armed it with the quiver of arrows leeched from the Orc's body. "This is what I'm talking about," she said as she fit the arrows into the slots, silently admiring the beauty of what had once been her favorite weapon. Lifting the bow under her chin, she kept her eyes onto the entrance of the path. They had but one shot at this. If they failed, those people were dead. The men of the company said that all had now fled to Helm's Deep. Despite the fact she was facing what could be impossible odds, Buffy was willing to give these people a chance to live.
- - - -
In the distance over their own torches, the men could see the remains of women, children and riders alike fleeing to the Hornburg. The enemy was now sweeping into the valley.
The battle was drawing ever nearer.
And the men began to realize that unless they held the Keep, there would be no hope for men.
- - - - -
In the next chapter, the battle for Helm's Deep begins, book-style. Buffy gains more perspective and gets her fight on.
I was completely aiming for this to be posted on Tuesday until the ISP at home went kaput. With all of the updates this site has been undergoing, it's been quite fun trying to find a spot of time to post this. I chose tonight because of boredom reasons and once I return back to school early next week, I'll have the rest of my stories to help keep me company. Until then, I have both of these lonely files on my disk. Now they are off, and the disk can be used for other things. I hope those of you who celebrate it had a wonderful Thanksgiving! It actually snowed here... I LOVE snow!