Journey's End
Pairings: There are book pairings. And the hint of a non-book relationship appears in this chapter, as well.
Events: This fiction is one that follows the path of Rohan through the end of the War of the Ring. Beyond the end of the story, there are chapters concerning the first few years of the Fourth Age, after the passing of the Ringbearers into the West.
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.
Thank You's: I do owe many of you great thanks for taking the time to read this story. The amount of positive feedback is enlightening. I am also apologizing for the lateness of this piece. You have no idea how many times this chapter was written, rewritten and reedited to have everything make the sort of sense it finally did. I was not pleased with it, but I think it gets the point across.
Chapter Summary: The host rides to Isengard; Buffy gets yet another history lesson.
Chapter Warning: This is a chapter that is a pure mix of the imagination of myself and of Tolkien. I had to stay true to the books when it came to the journey to Isengard, and I threw in a lesson about the coming of the Ents in for good measure, which comes from The Silmarillion. On a side note, it's safe to say that the spouse of Aulë was not the only one to create a species in their image. Yavanna wanted trees that could think for themselves and speak for all of the great things she created. Hence, the Ents were made. It is a beautiful story and one I decided to incorporate into this piece.
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Chapter 9
The Road Not Taken
By Alyson Kay
- - - - -
"Let all men who are to ride with me rest now. We will journey under the shadow of evening. We will ride to parley, and not to fight."
These were the words of Mithrandir. Théoden had taken this counsel to heart and had summoned all that could ride to return to Edoras for a council in a few days time. He then chose twenty men, including Éomer, who were uninjured and could ride. When his gaze fell upon the young woman, however, he need not have taken one look at her determined face to realize that even though she was hurt, she was going with them whether he accepted this or not.
She rode with the White Wizard, after all.
"Get some rest," he told her as she turned to help the injured inside. "We will not ride without you."
She gave him a grim smile before turning back to care for the Dwarf. Once they were inside, Aragorn took Gimli from her care and she undid her armor and left nothing but her dress underneath. She sighed when she saw the tattered hemlines. She was still quite wet and very cold. Taking a bar of her best Elvish soap, she ducked out of the citadel and turned in the direction of the caves. Inside, the women and children were being told by those Théoden had sent about the battle. Bypassing these people, she found a quiet spring where rainwater warmed by the sunlight poured down, and bathed quickly. Once she had dried off and redressed with the gift of clothing from one of the provision-carriers, Buffy returned to the room and fell asleep upon a cot.
Those who were uninjured swept through the remains of the Keep and through the valley, checking for survivors. Not one Uruk-hai had survived. Éomer strode with them, not needing rest. It was here that he head about the rearguard's first battle with the woman leading them. They had lost very few under her leadership and for this he respected her. She was a leader of her people, Mithrandir had told them this. She knew what she was doing.
He was among those that returned to wake up the King and check on the rest of the injured. He found Legolas and Aragorn tending to the Dwarf, who was grumbling about Elvish medicine and poking aside the arm Legolas kept extending to assist Aragorn with the bandaging. Éomer bowed his head to their fellowship before his eyes turned to the figure lying on a cot across the room. She was on her back, sound asleep. A thin blanket covered her, and he could see that even though she'd been hurt, she was healing rapidly.
"I did not understand it myself," Aragorn said as he joined Éomer's side. "She carries in her blood advanced healing powers. Already her wounds have healed."
"She is fatigued," Éomer said quietly. "Why must she ride to Isengard? We have no need of her counsel; she should return to Edoras."
"Will you be the one to inform her?" Legolas asked as he came to stand on the other side of Aragorn. "I will not be the one to speak. I have heard tales of the men that were with her in battle."
"As have I," Éomer said with resignation in his face. "I do not suppose we could leave her rest while the rest of us prepare our departure."
"We will," Aragorn said, walking over and drawing the blanket up under her chin. "She has already fought in one of our battles and there are many more to come. Sleep will be an essential need for her, and one not all of us will be privileged to find."
Long after the rest of the men left the room, Gimli drifted off into a sleep of his own. Men passed back and forth outside the room, occasionally glancing within to check up on the two.
The men of Dunland had given themselves up out of fear following the Uruk's retreat into the sudden forest in the valley. Gandalf stepped down and told them that they should lie down their arms and then set to work. At this, the wild-men exchanged an amazed look, as the tales of violent torture and mayhem that had been passed down through the generations wasn't apparently true. They looked kindly upon this mercy, and set to work on moving the debris.
The men who had fallen in this battle were soon buried near the mountains. Théoden and Éomer came together and mourned the loss of one of the captains, Háma. Théoden cast the first stone upon his grave, his face weary with sorrow, yet as solid as a mask of stone. He had seen much in this battle, and the death of one of his faithful wouldn't break him. They found the bodies that had skinned and strung as banners before the Keep during the height of the battle. They were buried with highest honors, in a line of graves that seemed endless to the eye.
After the burials, the horses were prepared. Buffy was shaken awake by one of the guards, and she dressed quickly in her armor, which had dried somewhat in the hours she had been resting. She pulled her hair back again and replaced her belt. One of the axes of the Uruk-hai had been delivered to her bedside, along with the cracked remains of the horn from the passage. She lifted it into her hands. It was a meaningful thing, really. Even though it was broken, it wouldn't fall apart. She wasn't going to let it. Carefully binding it, she slipped it onto her belt and burst from the room.
As the sun dipped below the mountains, the company of Théoden and Gandalf rode out, heading north and west to Isengard, leaving the remains of Helm's Deep behind. Those that were to remain behind watched the group take leave, their eyes watchful and their demeanor silent.
Buffy had been amazed when her dark grey mare was presented to her by the young lieutenant, who she found out wouldn't be riding with them. He was a guard for the Westfold and would be returning to Edoras with Erkenbrand. It was then that she met this captain, and they grasped hands.
"It's good to meet a man of legend," she said with a grin as she was helped onto her horse.
"We will meet again, Merilin," the lieutenant said, as she rode off to join the others, looking refreshed and renewed.
All at once, they halted, seemingly unwilling to go through the trees. Buffy wasn't really nervous; they reminded her of the trees of Fangorn forest, and when she asked Gandalf this, he confirmed it. These were the young trees that had come. Buffy asked where they had come from, but all Gandalf could say was that some higher power summoned them there, more than likely their shepherds.
In lines, they crossed into the wood. Legolas rode directly in front of Buffy, and he stopped whenever Gimli would allow it to listen to the sounds of the trees above them.
She rode up along side him, her ponytail bouncing over her shoulder as she gazed at the last rays of sunlight filtering through the high branches. "This is the prettiest thing I have ever seen," she commented.
"The lady speaks not after my own heart," Gimli said stoutly, his eyes nervous as the trees continued to tilt and moan above them. "I can guess their thought already, and it is hatred for all that move on two legs."
"Not all that go on two legs," Legolas replied. "It is the Orcs they hate. For they do not belong here and know little of the lives of Elves and Men."
"So they're not going to try and bash us," Buffy commented as she kept looking around, apparently aggravated. "It's always good to know."
She rode forward, leaving Gimli and Legolas behind as their conversation turned to caves. She rode around Aragorn and finally met with Gandalf who rode directly behind the King.
"You have rested well, Merilin," Gandalf said kindly to her.
"I think that's the best sleep I've had since I got here," Buffy replied, stretching on her horse slightly. And, with a frown, she stared at it. "Mithrandir, is there a name in Elvish-speak for 'faith'? I want to name my horse, yet the name 'Faith' doesn't really fit here. I was hoping there'd be a cooler word like Shadowfax or… whatever you call horses nowadays." She gave the mare a little nudge and the horse lifted her head. "What shall I call you?" she murmured, running her hand along the horse's mane.
"The word is bronwe," Gandalf informed her.
Buffy's lips twisted, as though she were trying not to laugh. "Do you have a suggestion then? There is no way in hell I'm naming my horse Bronwe. It doesn't really suit her."
"How does the name of Sador strike your liking?" Gandalf replied as they continued through the trees. "It was the name of a faithful servant in ancient times. The name means 'faithful one'."
"I like that," Buffy replied, patting her horse's neatly braided mane. "How do you like that? Can I call you Sador?"
The horse tossed her beautiful head and neighed softly.
"I think you have found your answer," Gandalf replied, glancing at the young woman with amusement in his eyes. "I have heard the most beguiling tale of your heroism before the fall of the Deep," he said slowly.
"What did you hear?" she asked curiously, gazing at him. The darkness was growing around them as the sun went down, and Buffy was half-afraid she'd endure another black night.
"You took charge of two broken companies of men," Gandalf said, gazing at her more intently now. "You have done what no man asked of you, yet you assumed responsibility that was not your own."
"I couldn't leave them there to die," she said, looking reluctantly at him.
"You have done more than bring yourself the respect I have known you would bring," Gandalf said in his serious voice. "You have gained the trust of men. Before this battle, they saw you as a mystery, one who rode with a White Wizard who returned from death. You may have come from death, but you brought with you life."
"I think I took your words to heart," she said, frowning as she contemplated his words. "I'm beginning to live again, and I don't like what I see. I saw dead women and children. It scared me. I realized I wasn't about to let that happen anymore. Those soldiers were told to defend the pass. I helped them do it."
"Were those not riders of the West who followed you into battle then and into your last?" Gandalf asked her. "You have been humbled by these actions, yet your actions fool not one of these men. They know now you carry a great power. They have seen it."
"I'm only what I am, Gandalf," she said, glancing down. "I'm just a Slayer. I did my job back there."
"It has become more than a simple matter of occupation," Gandalf replied. "It has become your soul, your very breath of life."
Even in the best of times, the old man sounded like Giles, she thought wryly.
"I thought I was gonna die," Buffy said finally, turning back to face her guide. "I really did. I didn't want that to happen. I'm not ready to die just yet. These men are fighting for their freedom, for their lives. To me, that means more than just wandering around a world I don't know fighting what I don't understand. I'll every Orc if I have to. Everyone has a right to breathe free air." She inhaled the cool, nightly mist and sighed deeply. "Even the best of us have to appreciate the small things."
"It is this courage these men place their faith in you," Gandalf replied. "They will ask nothing more except for your courage, except maybe perhaps your leadership."
She let him ride onward to make counsel with Théoden and fell back. The men of Rohan were now riding around her, and some stopped to make idle conversation. Instead of regarding her warily, they saw her as one of them. The funny thing was, she was starting to see herself as one of them, too. She was a woman, after all. She was a woman surrounded by intimidating men that preferred to scowl rather than smile. Yet, she was surrounded by people who would die for their cause. Hadn't she, Buffy, proven that before, three times?
She grasped the reigns of Sador and continued moving on into the evening, the other riders passing by with curt nods or small words. She didn't have much to say to them, considering her focus was on keeping Sador to ride steadily through the trees, something the mare wasn't always willing to do.
Éomer was at the rear of the King's guard and was soon riding up besides her, giving her a look of encouragement, but Buffy was far too taken with the trees moaning and swaying over her head to pay him much attention until he spoke. "If you do not gather speed, you will be left behind."
She turned to him, her eyebrows raised in surprise. "You would leave a girl behind to fend for herself?" she asked, her tone slightly hurt. "So much for chivalry in the ancient world," she muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes.
"You need no protection," Éomer replied, a hint of amusement in his eyes as he stared at her face, small strips of light adorning it as they passed under the shelter of the trees swaying overhead. "I have heard the tales the men have spoken of you and your willingness for battle."
"My… my willingness for battle?" Buffy asked, her eyes narrowing threateningly. "There's one thing to go around looking for a war to jump into, and there's another thing about being dumped in a world where war already exists. There's something about me you have to know, and it's that I'm ready to face anything the great Nasty can throw at me. I've been trained well."
"Perhaps," he said, as though he wasn't too convinced. "They have said you fought in wars before this one."
"War is such a strange word to me," Buffy replied. "See, where I came from, there was a never-ending war. I fought a battle every night. Every single night my neck was on the line so don't you go talking to me about weak women and their inabilities to cope with death, because I've seen a hell of a lot more than you think."
"I would expect nothing less than one who rides with the White Wizard," Éomer said, hurrying to catch up with her brisker pace.
"You're not one to believe things so easily, are you Éomer?" she asked, turning back to face him.
"I have seen you fight," he admitted. "You would make a fitting captain for any guard. Of you, I would believe nothing less than the truth set before my eyes. But this is the third time that you have acted in a manner I have yet to see." He frowned slightly as he recalled the tales of the rearguard. He had seen her fighting, if only for a little while. She had been standing in the Deep, moving as though the very fire of the Underworld was at her heels, her blonde hair flying as she sparred and ducked, sparred and ducked. He had watched her direct the group of men that had rallied to the sound of her horn and they had listened to her orders, for they knew she would not put them in harm's way if she could help it. There were movements with a sword many had never seen before, not to mention the fact that she moved as they had never seen a woman move before. There was talk of ancient women fighting with the armies of their husbands and still this woman was above them all.
After watching her fight and hearing of her tale, it led many to wonder why she hadn't been brought to this world before. Had she been in his numbers then, they would have succeeded in overthrowing the will of Saruman before the dark Wizard had ever taken hold of his country. She was an amazing woman, as proud of her own race as he was of his, and this led to their many conflicts and arguments in the two weeks they had known each other. There had been an uneasy truce since the departure from Edoras, and it was springing now into an alliance of sorts, a friendship. Well, if one could still be friends with someone and despise them at the same time.
There were times that he could look at her and see how truly beautiful she was, for there was no tale that could describe how she appeared before them. There were no equal tales that could describe her power or her valor. Watching her fight, he had seen her heart. She lived to serve the will of the powers of fighting. She belonged in that world. Her allegiance was against those who sought to supplant the goodness in the world.
She was both a leader and a follower, for she had taken high command of the Rohirrim during a time when they had no efficient leader. She had also learned to follow behind the white steed of a grumpy old man who bore a Wizard's staff and brought ill news to all. She was the sunshine behind his rainy cloud of doom and the more he watched her movements and heard her voice, the more he began to believe that she was made for this world. They needed her as a part of it.
She caught him staring and frowned slightly before reaching up a hand and twisting her ponytail nervously around her fingers. "You could do a little less of that you know," she said, glowering slightly.
He hid his amusement as he turned back to his own horse.
"It's not like I'm something on the display rack," she continued, her eyes sharp as she turned to him. "I'm not something pretty to just stare at."
"Perhaps not," he said, keeping his eyes away from hers. "There is still a great beauty to you. Many would be blind to not notice."
Her eyes softened slightly as she took in his compliment before smiling as she cast her eyes down. "I guess chivalry isn't dead," she said, chuckling. "That's always good to know."
"It would make a fair point to see that you are indeed not a man," he pointed out, this time unable to keep the amusement from his eyes.
She smirked at him, looking less angry than he'd thought she'd be. She opened her mouth, and then closed it, her smirk growing. "Nah, too easy," she finally countered, shaking her head. And then, turning back to him, she added, "With all that long hair, I bet you get a lot of the same gender jokes."
"Yet it is the men who go to war," he said, adopting his grumpy tone.
"And the women stay home, push out babies and live miserably ever after?" she asked, a hard edge to her tone. "I'm not the sit-by-the-hearth-and-knit kind of girl, Éomer," she snapped.
"This is what alone sets you apart," Éomer said, trying to soothe her irritation, since she had a habit of attacking those that angered her. "You are nothing of the norm."
"When this war is over, if it ever ends, I won't be the one to stay at home and do nothing. If you take the fight away from this girl, you don't have much left," Buffy added, pausing slightly to stare up at the trees moving above her. "It's like these trees… they have a purpose and with their purpose comes their destiny. I still have mine, even though my own world is what, thousands of years in the future?"
"Like these trees, you strike like a serpent when goaded," Éomer reminded her.
She just grinned at him. "It's the true B—err, Merilin style," she said triumphantly, turning her attention back to her riding and goading Sador to move ahead. Éomer watched her as she went, filled with silent puzzlement. She was an enigma, she was. He knew she wasn't going anywhere, which meant they had potentially days of conversation ahead of them. Considering how close her temper was to the surface, he knew that provoking her would be the death of him, and made up his mind to avoid that at all costs.
- - - -
The sun was just starting to set when they reached the edge of the trees. The sky before them was stained a deep blood-red. As the party rode out from under the wood, Legolas gave a loud cry and turned to ride back into the forest.
"There are eyes!" he said. "Eyes looking out from the wood!"
Buffy had seen many things in her life, but a watchful forest was exactly the cure to being careful what you wished for. The others, surprised by his cry, attempted to turn back and follow him.
"No," Gandalf said sternly, halting their advances. "Do not go back into the wood. It is not your time."
Even as he spoke, three shapes emitted themselves from the trees. They were very tall, at least twelve feet high, and were as tree-like as could be, with long limbs and beards the greenish-grey color of moss. They had solemn eyes and gazed to the north, and when the Riders stared, the figures lifted their long hands and bellowed, their call as clear as any horn. Their calls were answered, and the Riders turned at the sound behind them as more came forward.
"These are not the enemy but herdsmen," Gandalf said quietly to the group, still too enraptured to withdraw their gaze. "They are not concerned with us at all."
Indeed, they weren't.
"What are they?" Buffy asked in a voice of awe.
"They are the shepherds of the trees, the Ents," Gandalf told her. He saw her expression clear, as she'd met Treebeard and knew of the Ents.
"I thought I had lived to see strange days," Théoden said, glancing as the large creatures started striding (which was probably the best word for it, since not even a herd of rampaging wolves could have caught up with them) to the north. "Out of the shadows of legend I begin to understand the marvel of these trees, as they were called in children's songs. And now the songs have come down among us out of these strange places."
"This brings good fortune," Gandalf said, watching as the Ents departed. "You are not without allies, even if you know them not."
"It is not always good fortune," Théoden replied, a shadow of darkness crossing his face. "The more that will go to war are those that will pass away nameless forever and pass without song or tale." At this, he looked at the Dagnir, who sat proudly on Sador, her eyes glistening as she stared out into the valley with wonder on her fair features. "Too many are far too young to see such days pass away."
"This evil of Sauron cannot be wholly cured," Gandalf replied, following the King's gaze. "Not idly will this Dagnir pass into the darkness without a fight at her helm. She has come and gone too frequently for such things to bar her passage." He nudged Shadowfax and started trotting away. "Come! Let us go now on the journey we have already begun!"
The company turned away from the Coomb and turned north towards the Fords.
Buffy rode towards the end of the column, staring back at the magnificent Ents moving rapidly through the clearing. "It must've been a great power to create them," she said softly.
"They were not created from this world," a voice said at her elbow. Buffy turned to see Aragorn riding beside her, studying her face.
"I expected you to be up there," she said, gesturing towards the King and Gandalf, riding further in the distance.
"I share your curiosity for the wonders of those beings," Aragorn said.
"In other words, you wanted to provoke the lady," Buffy said, her voice grumpy. "First Éomer and now you."
"I would not want to provoke a lady who can turn her sword to remove—"
"So," she said loudly, her voice hearty and overly cheerful. "What about those Ents, huh?"
"Have you heard of the Valar?" he asked. She nodded. "There were many who had great gifts to bear to Arda. One was called Yavanna. She spent much time in Middle-earth, attempting to heal the hurts left behind from Melkor. He was one of the Valar who returned to Arda to corrupt and besiege it. Many would call her the Queen of the Earth. She dedicated much time and her energy to create the trees and the plants. All of this beauty was created from her mind."
Buffy glanced at the dead grass the horses were trotting upon. "It's sort of like the story of creation with a twist," she commented.
Aragorn glanced at the ground and gave a thin smile. "This land was once beautiful and green before the darkness came to bear it to darkness." There was a great bitterness in his voice, and Buffy stared at him, strangely moved.
"I'm sure when all of this is over, it'll grow back. It always does in the end."
"Yavanna knew this," Aragorn continued, returning to his story. "She created protectors for all of her things, for she knew that those that would come upon the world would hold the dominion of all she had created. She made the Ents to protect the trees, only during the scars of years past, they have dwindled such in numbers that they retreated to the old forest of Fangorn. She had much pride in her trees."
Buffy listened to him as they continued to move, the sounds of the Ents moving off to the west.
"Yavanna decreed to Aulë, her spouse who had created the race of Dwarves, that his creations would not hold dominion over hers. They would instead turn their attention to the earth itself. That was how the Dwarves came to be miners. Manwë, the highest of the Valar, heard her thoughts that she wanted to protect her creations and from the songs they sung in times of the elder. He came from a vision and spoke that the Children, the first of the Elves and Men to walk in Arda, were to walk among the animals and plants, among her creations. Her shepherds could live among the forests and live at peace. He also brought forth the Eagles to send for the aid of the Valar should the need arise.
"There were many Eagles in times of old, through the times of Gondolin and the history of the Elves from times long ago." He turned to regard her then. She was staring at him with a hint of awe in her eyes. "Listen to me ramble," he said, excusing his speech with a sharp cough.
"No," she said softly, moving Sador closer to him. "It's just that when you talk like that… it lives through you. I can actually feel as though I were back at the time of Yolanda—"
"Yavanna," he corrected mildly.
"Right," she said, nodding hard. "Right, Yavanna… it makes it seem so real to know that these were created for a purpose. Just like me," she added with mock enthusiasm, glancing around them.
"If one of the Valar could have created you, it would have been Aulë, the creator of the Dwarves. He had great talent for such workmanship, and you certainly know the skill and craft of weaponry."
"The only weapon I could ever make was a stake," she said with a dramatic sigh. "Still, it's something."
Aragorn said a quick farewell before moving ahead. Buffy continued to move along, lost in thought.
Darkness came quickly and a waxing moon glittered overhead. As they came to the crest of a hill, they all looked down and saw with some wariness that it was a desolate, tarnished land.
"A river ran through here," Legolas said to no one in particular; Gimli was peering around the Elf's back and staring at the road before them with a look of mingled disgust on his face. Buffy felt her breath fall away. Everything in this plain was twisted and dead, and what remained of the river that had once been there was nothing more than a dried rock bed with warped gnarls of tree stumps and other gear cast away.
"This has become a dreary place," Éomer said, his voice full of a deep heaviness. Buffy gazed at the back of his head, her eyes full of sympathy. "Has Saruman destroyed the springs of Isen?"
"So it would seem," Gandalf replied.
"That's horrible," Buffy murmured beneath her breath. She didn't care if any of the others had heard her. She was voicing her opinions. This was mere hours after going into battle and fighting things much larger than she was.
"Must we pass this way?" Théoden asked.
"Yes," Gandalf replied. "There is no threat to the Riders here; the carrion-fowl peck at Orcs; such as their friendship remains."
One by one, the horses trotted down the plain. The wolves that had been howling slunk into the distance, their eyes reflecting the sight of Gandalf passing, looking as though he were made from spun-silver with his cloak and Shadowfax.
They came before a great ring of stones, with standing mounds and a circle of spears.
"Here lie all the men from the Mark that fell near this place," Gandalf said quietly as the others rode up behind him. Buffy lowered her eyes again, lost in a moment of burying a Potential in her backyard. When she glanced up again, the Shadow was gone.
"Here they will rest," Éomer replied, pounding his own spear at the ground. "Long will they defend the Fords of Isen."
"Is this not your work also, Gandalf, my friend?" Théoden asked. "You accomplished much in one night."
This Buffy noticed too, and smiled. He obviously knew how to multitask.
"With the help of Shadowfax, and others," Gandalf replied. "Not as many as were rumored fell in the Fords. I gathered the men of the broken companies and sent some with Grimbold to Helm's Deep and still others helped me with this," he said, gesturing at the mound before them, "and others still rode with your Marshal Elfhelm to Edoras. I have seen to it that Meduseld will remain when you return and not meet its downfall from thieves and plunderers of Isengard."
"I shall look forward to returning home," Théoden replied, casting a longing glance towards the southwest. With a heavy sigh, he rode on, and the others followed.
They continued on until the King announced he was weary. They broke camp along the depressing river and Buffy found herself staring into the murky mud lining the bottom of it. How strange was it that she should help someone who was in the same position she had been just months before (or was it thousands of years, now)?
In the distance, there were great puffs of smoke rising. They'd been seeing these columns since they'd departed the forest. She stared at them and sighed, resting her chin on her knees. She really wasn't tired. She could sleep, certainly, but she'd slept for hours that morning. Wrapping her cloak tighter around herself, she continued to stare at the Isen, lost in troubling thoughts.
Buffy was just drifting off into an uneasy sleep when a sharp cry awoke everyone in the camp. Her eyes snapping open, she leapt to her feet, her cloak falling away. There was an eerie blackness rolling towards them. Her eyes widened as she turned to Gandalf, as she always did when she didn't understand something. This, apparently, he didn't understand either.
"Stay where you are! Wait and it will pass us by!"
Buffy didn't move, not even to recover her cloak. The mist closed around them, whispering in the darkness. Her senses could pick it up, and she was willing to bet that the Elf's and Gandalf's were also quite keen to this murmuring. A loud groaning wail broke from above them as the ground started to quake. Buffy, whose senses were now on overdrive, was particularly not fond of earthquakes since they were more or less a death omen to her. It seemed like a year before the darkness passed. Buffy lowered her eyes and saw the rest of the camp was looking relieved that the darkness had spread to the mountains. It was as though all of the darkness had been expelled from Rohan and was being forced to dwell in the mountains.
She was trembling again. She bent down and wrapped her cloak tightly around her to ward off the chill that kept sliding up and down her backbone. As fires started lining their small camp, Buffy sat outside the camp on her rock; staring at the river, willing her heartbeat to return to normal.
No one else was going to sleep tonight. This much she knew. She had never felt less like sleeping than ever before. Surely whatever awaited them tomorrow had to be better than this. It was comforting to know that just twenty-four hours before (assuming that time in Middle-Earth worked the same way as time in regular-Earth did) she'd been killing Orcs.
She smiled grimly at the memory. Oh, killing those buggers was fun.
- - - -
In the next chapter, Buffy finally gets to meet her first two Hobbits and talk to the trees.
Until next time…