Journey's End
Pairings: There are book pairings. The Buffy pairing by now should be obvious. If it is not, then in about another chapter it will be painfully obvious.
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.
In Gratitude: I know that I have heard that this is frowned upon. However, it just seems like the right thing to do. Besides, my headers are usually less than a page, and these chapters are between ten and twelve pages apiece easily. My justification has been noted. Now, let us get to the good parts.
Mama T – Thank you.
Sukera – I have no intentions of forgetting this story. This chapter marks the 2/3 point and for this, a big sigh of relief. I sort of forgot the explanation that Ava has been rather ill as of late, but when it comes down to it, caring for a sick toddler is a little more important than satisfying my own selfish writing whims. I had no idea how to end that chapter and the piece that was originally in there was cut out. It was far too emotional for my tastes.
Lorency – It was, for the most part, a fun chapter to write. It had its' moments, that is for certain. I tried to get that point across. As for that final moment that you suggested, well… it will not get quite that far. She'll "throw him a bone", but it won't be anything like that. I will wait until the final outcome of the battle before I say more.
Almadynis – Buffy is pulling a Season 6 all over again. She is attempting to push those who care about her away, but is finding it difficult. Desolate yes, desperate, not really. She is determined to see this through to the end, and all personal feelings aside, she feels the end is coming. She is content to just let it go. Well, I guess it wouldn't be spoiling anything to say that there are others not quite willing to let her go so willingly.
Shabapo – That was my attempt at Éowyn playing the dubious woman. She knows what her brother feels and was trying to see what Buffy felt. When she realized that Buffy didn't deny not feeling anything towards him, well… she got her answer. Éomer is only tongue-tied because after the last debate (which I neglected to really write out, because it is just a group of men talking about a suicide mission) he goes to tell her what they decided. He knows that asking her to fight would be asking her to die for him, and even though he knows she's a fighter, he also knows how hard it is to ask someone he respects to fight for him like that. Learning about Arwen will only add to her thoughts that not all men like Aragorn, whom she finds herself somewhat akin to (fighting for destiny, mostly), go without love. To know that his heart was bought a long time ago and he rides to war with her standard and her soul in his heart will sort of prove to Buffy that he is a good man to die for. Not only that, but it is okay to love someone while fighting for something as big as the lives of all mankind. I know that there are better explanations than that, but that just about covers it. Lastly, Faramir and Éowyn were so grossly undisclosed it broke my heart. Therefore, I gave them my own reason for a good majority of a chapter!
CharmingStar – Thank you! And I do intend to post on a more regular schedule as I used to. Perhaps once a week, but never once a month again. I had no idea so much time had passed!
Rcaqua – Yeah, you're right. I am not about to deny it. This chapter pretty much seals it. Her reaction to Arwen is simple curiosity. She is about to realize she doesn't know everything.
BuffyandDracoLover – As do I. Unfortunately, to coincide with the timeline, I had to divide the chapter into three separate entities, so that a little bit of Éowyn/Faramir shows up in each of the next three. As for what happens between the other two, well… nothing, yet. Eventually, there will be a payoff, just not yet. Legolas appreciates her for what she is, but they are akin to the fact that from the moment they are conceived (he as an Elf-lord and she as a Slayer), they have the same calling towards death. They are friends and nothing more.
Vampy, the Chosen One – considering this is a remake of the original, well, thank you. Someday I will write something without such an unoriginal plot line.
Chapter Summary: Those left behind face the ramifications of what may yet come to pass. Meanwhile, an army begins its long march over the plains of Ithilien.
Chapter Warning: Yep. This is my Faramir/Éowyn chapter. Well, partially, anyways. I had to cut down a bit on the three-part battle and survival sequence, so I ended up cutting it into this chapter. This is probably why it is so long. So, this does take a bit of description from the books during the march through Ithilien. Otherwise, the rather desolate romantic pairing that I have favored since I was seven is currently under the guise of my own imagination. There were moments taken from the book though, and the film scene was too precious to skip over.
x-x-x
Chapter 20
Crossroads
By Alyson Kay
x-x-x
Éowyn was resting inside her room when she heard the gentle sound of a knock against her doorway. She looked up to see the other woman of Rohan standing there, once dressed in the same white gown Éowyn herself had bidden to wear whilst in the keeping of the Houses of Healing. This morning, however, she was wearing the same tunic and trousers she had worn to battle and was clad with the same boots as before. Her armor wasn't present and neither was her vast array of weaponry.
"Good morning," Buffy said, cheerfully stepping inside after glancing to make certain there were no others present.
"Are you not leaving today?" Éowyn asked by means of a response. Buffy glanced at her a moment before shrugging.
"Yeah, we're leaving in about an hour," Buffy said quickly. "I just wanted to…" She gestured at Éowyn's bed and the rest of the room. "Well, you know…"
"You should hasten," Éowyn said, turning away so that Buffy would not be able to see her face. "They will not wait for you. They will expect you to be there with the others."
"I will be," Buffy said in her assuring voice. "I just wanted to be sure you're all right."
"My body heals," Éowyn said with a short, sharp laugh. "My arm is at ease but even that is a poor excuse as to why I cannot lift a sword to defend those I love."
"Oh, right," Buffy said, in an attempt to keep the sarcasm from her tone, "you just want to go and get yourself killed in the most painful way possible." Éowyn didn't reply, but Buffy saw the dangerous glint in the other woman's eyes. "Look… I know you're angry about being left behind…"
"What great woman would not want to seek valor in a land where valor amongst women is foreign?" Éowyn asked.
"Because some women don't have to fight to live," Buffy replied, leaning against the wall. "You may be a shieldmaiden, Éowyn, but there is enough time for you to die in battle in the future. I'm just doing what I was chosen to do."
"Our people would rather not see you die," Éowyn said, her tone turning forceful. "Our King would not see you fall!"
"He was the one that asked me to go," Buffy said coolly, straightening her posture. "No matter how he feels about me or I for him, this decision was based solely on the fact that he knows my duty. If Frodo does whatever the hell he was supposed to do, I won't be needed around here anymore. I want to make sure that happens."
Éowyn gazed at her silently for a moment before resting against the wall. "I fear that you may not return," she said softly, her voice echoing her deepest, innermost fears. "I fear that all will be lost and Éomer will lie dormant in the halls of Minas Tirith with Théoden, the fallen King. I fear that I alone will lead my people into darkness and into despair. You ask me if I am well, but I am not. My body may be healing, but my mind is ill at ease."
Buffy didn't have the heart to disagree with her. After spending time speaking with both Aragorn and Gandalf, she knew that this was the closest thing to a suicide mission she would ever face. They could all very well die in the ambush to come. She wasn't about to tell Éowyn about her dream nor was she about to tell Éowyn she knew she wasn't coming back. There would be time enough for that later.
"I want you to promise me something," Buffy said softly. Éowyn blinked up at her and nodded slowly. "No matter what happens out there, I want you to know that I…" For a moment, her voice failed her. "I only want what's best for you. Fighting in a war isn't the only way to be brave. The hardest thing in this world is to live in it. No one deserves unhappiness. I want you to promise me you'll be happy, no matter what happens. I want you to live, for…" She paused again before mustering a small smile.
"What about you?" Éowyn asked quietly. "Do you not deserve happiness?"
"I'm at peace," Buffy admitted. "I feel like I have nothing left to lose, and nothing left to win. This mission will decide the fate of the rest of our lives."
"If I were never to see you again," Éowyn said, swallowing hard, "perhaps you will go to the halls of our Fathers and rest as one of us."
The thought of spending eternity with a bunch of dead Kings didn't really appeal to her, but it opened a thought, a doorway to another world she had expected to see just a short month before, when she'd died again. For a moment, the two women stared at one another before Buffy hastily smiled. "I guess I should probably go." Seeing the sad, pensive look on Éowyn's face, she felt her smile dissolve. "He's going to come back, Éowyn. He's a good fighter. He knows what he's doing."
Éowyn didn't reply, but watched as Buffy left. As soon as she heard her footsteps dissipate, she turned and relaxed against her cushions again. For a moment, she felt the strangest sensation, as though she should be calling out to the young woman who had just so abruptly left. She closed her eyes and wished for the same peace the other woman felt. To be so young and to have lived such a difficult life was something Éowyn had been accustomed to. She never would have imagined that someone else that was her age would share such a fate.
x-x-x
The sun was only clearing the mountains when the full strength of the army of the West had been gathered. Buffy drew Sador out and stood her with the rest of the Rohirrim. Many greeted her warmly as she stationed herself there. Her eyes scanned the thousands that had been gathered at the Pelennor and she finally sought out Gandalf and Aragorn, who were speaking together. Éomer and Prince Imrahil trailed after, along with Legolas, Gimli and the two identical sons of Elrond. The remnants of the Rangers were already stationed on their steeds and were awaiting their lord's command.
Buffy quickly drew herself atop Sador and positioned her heavy armor, lifting her helmet and attaching it to the saddle. Most of her weapons had been carefully tucked along the leather, well within her reach should the need arise. The other men quickly followed her lead as they awaited Éomer's return. After a bit of yelling between companies, they were finally underway, going row by row past the burnt-out shells that remained of the walls and houses along the Pelennor Fields. Buffy found herself beckoned forward and joined Gandalf. Behind him rode a Hobbit, she saw. Pippin, it must be, because Merry was no where in sight.
"Buffy," Gandalf said by way of greeting. She positioned Sador beside him as they marched quickly towards the remnants of Osgiliath in the distance. "It will take us days to reach Morannon, where we will make our final stand."
"Got it," she said, attempting to listen to him as well as direct Sador in the rather neat lines of horses and men. There were so few horses that most of them rode onwards before the rather large group of marching men about a mile behind them. "Is there anything I should know about it?"
Apparently, that was a stupid question to ask. By the time they rode into Osgiliath and rode out of the way, allowing the others to complete the necessary repairs to continue their journey, Gandalf had told her much of the Dagorlad battle plain from the Battle of the Last Alliance. As she had yet to meet Elrond, she was openly curious about him now. It was only then that she heard a murmur about an Arwen, but she knew better than to ask Gandalf about her. She would be listening to him drone for the next three hours about some Elvish maiden who succumbed to some great drama that sent her to God knew where.
She did, however, dismount and move to speak with Aragorn, who was one of the many men repairing the planks on the large bridge that crossed over the river. The other men were quickly drawing the boats nearer to shore, or trying to repair the enormous gashes in the side to ensure that they wouldn't drown half of their forces before they even left Gondor. As usual, he seemed pleased to see her and even more pleased when she dropped down beside him, lifted a hammer and began smacking cheerfully away at the loose boards, attempting to push them back into place.
At first, they didn't talk, but after an hour, the foot soldiers began to march into Osgiliath and her curiosity was getting the best of her. As they trooped back across the bridge to collect their horses, she finally managed to ask him, "So, who's Arwen?"
He froze and turned around to face her with such speed, she gasped. "What do you know of her?" he asked in such an intense voice it took her breath away.
"Gandalf was telling me about Elrond," she said defensively. "He only brought her up once, but I didn't want to ask him about her. I knew he'd probably never shut up."
Aragorn's face seemed to relax slightly.
"So," she prompted gently. "I know you know her. You just gave yourself away."
"She is someone I have known for many years," he began. As they continued to walk, she listened to a story not unlike her own romance with Angel. It was a love story between a mortal and an immortal, one that would have to give up one aspect in order to be with the other. She didn't say anything, but listened, even as they retrieved their horses and watched as the others began crossing the bridge, the boats sailing smoothly beneath it on the Anduin. "She is now traveling to the West with all that remains of her kin," he concluded, watching her face carefully for a reaction. "As a mortal man, I will not see her again."
"It sounds to me as though you still love her," Buffy said seriously. She wasn't about to mock this now. He was a very generous and sincere man, one of the few she found to be wholly trustworthy in this godforsaken land.
"A love like the one I share with Arwen is not one that succumbs to death or to life," Aragorn replied in his heavy tone.
"Do you regret not asking her to stay?" she asked.
"Nay," he replied, although it seemed to her that he could be deceiving her. "I will not hold back her greatest gift on the mere chance that all we have wished for will be right in this world. I will not ask her to die for me."
But the Rohirrim had asked her to die for them, Buffy thought. As Aragorn rode onwards, she grew lost in thought. The boats arrived in the middle of the afternoon and soon all of the horses and men had crossed Anduin and drove into Ithilien.
Éomer has asked her to fight for him, knowing she was a great warrior. But if he had feelings for her as Éowyn had said, then perhaps it would stand to reason that he regretted asking her to fight for him. She was going to have to ask him about this. It was time to confront this now, before she died and before he possibly did, as well.
It gave her a strange sense of comfort to know that Aragorn was going through what she once had done. Angel would never risk his soul or his immortality to be with her. The same sounded true for this Arwen Evenstar. Buffy hoped to meet her one day, just because it would be nice to look upon one who had suffered as she had. In that afternoon, Buffy had found herself a kindred spirit in Aragorn. Despite the fact she wanted to sever ties to the people of this Middle-earth, it was proving to be more difficult that she'd first anticipated.
x-x-x
It had been hours since the men had gone off to war, Éowyn thought to herself, rising from her bed and stepping into the corridors. She looked in the doorway of the Hobbit Merry's room and found him resting. Deciding that she couldn't really remain while the others had gone off to battle and to certain doom, she made her way to the Warden, passing the women who considered Éowyn to be under their care. She shrugged off their protests, waving her hand impatiently as she passed them. She had no use of women who couldn't tell her anything, by their will or not, but she wished to hear of tidings of the men who had just left, and the woman who was dear to her.
The Warden looked surprised to see Éowyn wandering about and attempted to halt her, for it seemed to him she was sneaking out of the Houses. "My Lady," he said, ducking under the archway. Éowyn paused, bringing a hand to her throat, startled. "Where are you going?"
"You cannot ask me to remain here," she said in a cool tone, gesturing to her arm, resting in a sling of linen.
"I was bidden for you to remain here," said the Warden in an uncomfortable voice. "You are not yet healed, Lady. I cannot allow you passage to leave."
"I am healed," she replied. "My arm is at rest, but as long as I remain in these Houses, I will not truly heal. You must allow me to leave. I seek tidings of war. The women can tell me nothing."
"I know of no new tidings," the Warden said quietly, "save that the lords have united under the ranger of the North and that he will lead them to the Black Gates. They departed the fields the day before yesterday."
"I know this," Éowyn said, resisting the temptation to roll her eyes. Was everyone in Gondor slow to think and even slower to act? This man was infuriating! "Who commands this city? Did he ride off to war as well?"
"Nay, my Lady," the man said, bowing his head. "I honestly know not who commands the city. There is a marshal of the Riders of Rohan, as there is a commander for the forces of Gondor. But the Lord Faramir is by his right the Steward of Gondor. He is within these Houses. He was sorely wounded, as you have been, and he is on his way to recovering, but—"
"I wish to see him," Éowyn said, cutting through the man's speech. He gazed at her a moment, lost in thought. For it seemed to him that she stood tall and proud, with bright eyes set in her brilliantly pale face, yet there was a darkness residing. He knew not to speak of dissuading her, for her had heard the women of Rohan were rather stubborn, as this one appeared to be.
"Very well," he said, rising. "Come with me."
The Warden led her through the corridors until they at last came to the gardens. As she took the steps, she saw a man standing in the same white cloak in the dim sunlight, his eyes closed against the warmth. A cold chill seemed to sweep through the gardens, which appeared as dead and sullen as the rest of the city. He turned at the sound of footsteps and his eyes at first glanced upon the Warden, who begged his apology and explained Éowyn's presence before he glanced upon her. For a moment, she found herself gazing into the warmest eyes, the color of the deepest sea, before he blinked and turned to the Warden, nodding his agreement.
"You are troubled, my Lady?" he asked as she stepped towards him. He saw by her posture that she was not one to back down so swiftly. He knew that Warden was quite uncomfortable around women who possessed great power and this certainly was one he was not equipped to handle. Aside from her pale beauty, she seemed stricken, frozen in a shadow, as though not willing to return from the darkness and step into the light of day that awaited them all.
"I am not well," she announced clearly. He blinked and regarded her more carefully. Perhaps this, too, was out of his reach. "Do not misunderstand him, my Lord. It is not the lack of care which troubles me. No, it is boredom and remaining idle when those I consider most dear ride off to battle. I looked for death in my battle, but yet I remain here while the battle is fought elsewhere."
Faramir quickly waved off the Warden, and the man bowed and disappeared. "What would you have me do?" he asked, attempting to keep the amusement from his tone. "I, too, am a prisoner in these Houses. I could no more go off to fight in some battle than you are able."
Éowyn's face was covered in a slight flush as she met his gaze, expecting it to be stern but finding something else behind it. His eyes were gentle, almost compassionate, looking upon her with pity, not with irritation and annoyance. Her own gaze clouded and she felt her eyes graze towards the beyond. A cold breeze plummeted from the hills, lifting her hair from her shoulders as she stared outwards. Even as the sunlight moved across her face, it did little to relieve her dark spirits.
"I will do as you ask as long as it is within my power," Faramir said, considering her for a moment before following her gaze.
"I would say to you that you bid the Warden to release me," Éowyn said in her firmest tone. Even as she doubted herself in the eyes of this man, who continued to gaze at her as though he had never seen anything like her, she felt slightly foolish. Perhaps she was pushing him too hard. "I no longer wish to remain within these Houses."
"No," he said, this time unable to keep the amusement from his voice. "You wish to seek a glorious death in a battle."
"I wish to ride with my brother, the King Éomer, and all of those who loyally follow him, as they followed my uncle, the fallen King Théoden," she retorted sharply. "I wish to do my part in this world and I will not have you discourage me so."
Of all the women in Rohan he was bound to be stuck with, it had to be the stubborn one. At least the other one, albeit shorter, had been a bit more conscientious. "I myself am bid to remain by the Warden of these Houses," he said, attempting to soothe her riled temper. "I would see to my duties within the City should he release me, but I must remain to heal. You would do well to follow the counsel."
He met her icy gaze for a moment before she relented. "I seek only to follow the counsel which sees me to my duties," she said at last. "Remaining idle and trapped within such a fine institution would seem a waste of my time as well as a waste of yours."
"It is far too late, Lady, to follow the Captains even if you did have the strength," Faramir said, going for the realistic approach. "We may yet face death should their journey fall. All we can do is wait patiently and endure these hours."
It seemed to him that her proud demeanor seemed to soften, and her ice-filled eyes turned to liquid as a single tear floated as a raindrop down her pale cheek. It was there but a second before her hand brushed it aside. "I will remain, as the healers have said I should remain seven days," she said quietly, so quietly that it seemed she spoke to herself. Tipping her face to the sunlight, which seemed to disappear behind the cold, grey clouds, she sighed. "My window does not face eastward. I have not light nor warmth from the sun."
"That can be amended," he said, lightly touching her arm. She did not hasten to pull away, but then again, she did not appear to have the strength to. She looked as though her hopes and dreams had come crashing down like shattering stone, yet her face still held a touch of dignity and pride. "I will command it from the Warden. If you remain here and rest, you can dwell in the gardens and look to the east. There all of our hope remains and with it we must endure whatever end is to come. If you will come into the gardens, you will see me standing and facing to the east." She nodded, not trusting herself to glance back at him. But she felt his comforting hand on her shoulder, grazing her skin. "It would ease my care if you would walk with me, or speak."
She turned to face him at last. Her eyes had softened to resemble new jewels set in a face of stone, and yet the lines had faltered and her youth was shining brightly behind her intense gaze. "How can I hope to ease your care?" she asked quietly. "By blood, I am a shield-maiden of Rohan. My hands are not gentle. And to speak with you; I do not care for the speech of the living. I wish only to see those I care for again."
"To hear your voice and to know our fates remain tied would only bring me to health," he explained gently. "Your hands need not be gentle, but your words could carry less hurts."
She turned to throw him a distinctively sarcastic look. "I will have you know, Faramir, Steward of the City, that I was in the counsel of one who would not hesitate to behead those who would speak to them in this manner. And you should know that I will not take such hesitation either. I have learnt much from her." With a last look, the distinct pride returning to her eyes, she did him a courtesy before returning to her room.
He found himself shaking his head in wonder as he stared after her. For some reason, even her infuriating manner had touched him. He knew had to learn more about her, but there were few that remained that could speak of her. He knew of one, however, and after questioning the Warden made his way towards the suite of Meriadoc, the young Hobbit who had ridden with Éowyn into battle. Perhaps he would hold the key to unlocking the frozen shadow that remained within the Lady Éowyn.
x-x-x
The road to the Black Gate was slow, due to the extreme paranoia of Aragorn and the rest of the men at discovering that some large army was lying in wait to ambush them. Buffy had laughed off most of this as folly for the first few times, until their own encampment had come under attack. It hadn't been a ten-thousand-numbered-army has Gimli had sworn it would be, but it was large enough to take both time and energy to disperse. After the effort, their enemy had been driven back into the mountains.
Since then, Buffy had felt a cold weight settle onto her shoulders. During their long rides, she was getting to know the men a bit better. Even though she longed to ride in front of the column with Gandalf, who could take away the lure of boredom with long-winded speeches covering every topic under rainbow, she had promised herself that she would remain as far away from the Captains as humanly possible.
Even as the light began to fall on the third day, Buffy felt something else that nearly stole her breath away. She glanced at Legolas who, with his keen Elven eyes, could see far into the sky. "What are they?" she asked him.
"Nazgûl," he said, lowering his hand and gazing at her as she dismounted, carefully making her way towards him. "They have been following us for some time now."
"I see," Buffy said, and she could truly see the hideous creatures beating their pointed wings far beyond their heads, out of sight to all but two. They were circling the small encampments, the companies of men dispersed in a large circular pattern so that if one group were to fall under attack, assistance would not be far off. It was obvious that everyone was aware of their presence, for when she spoke to Legolas next, he said not a word to her but to acknowledge her question with a nod before disappearing. She watched him go before she felt eyes on her neck and turned to find the gaze of the young King of Rohan on her. She felt slightly ashamed, as she had yet to really speak to him. But their time was drawing to a close, she thought. But she was in no temperament to even make words with him, much less make peace. He didn't press the issue, either, but instead turned his gaze to his captains. She knew she would better serve as counsel and would have come forward had Gandalf not chosen that precise moment to rescue her from a situation she was still not ready for.
They left shortly after dark, once all had been sufficiently fed and watered. They moved as a large group and Buffy once again rode next to Gandalf near the front, her keen eyes seeing into the dark as the horsemen followed behind her and the other men on foot were a great distance away, but closing quickly. Already they had passed the Morgul Vale and the pass to the dead city, which Gandalf had ordered the bridges and lands to be torched, as they were poisoned by the darkness of Sauron. Even as they continued to draw nearer to this evil, she felt it. It was sinking deep within her skin. She was breathing the foul essence of the darkness and knew it was about to choke on those that the army brought forward. There was a King of men, along with two princely lords besides. Adding to that a few Elves, a Dwarf and a Halfling, those were reasons enough to take this threat seriously. She knew she had no real place there aside from doing what she had been born to do, and she was willing to see it to the end. She wanted the darkness to choke on her and to spit her back into the Earth where she had been brought from.
She knew now that there was no turning back.
x-x-x
Faramir departed from his room the fourth morning and found his gaze settling on a figure clothes in white, leaning against the outer wall in the gardens. She turned slightly when she heard footsteps.
"I have been waiting for you," she said quietly. "I feared you would not come."
"Did you truly fear this, Éowyn?" he asked in a teasing voice. She turned to regard him and drew nearer and he offered her his arm. They took to walking through the gardens.
"I fear for what is to come," she said, sending a scathing glance to the dark clouds bubbling over Mordor in the distance. "I fear for the lives that will be lost. Most of all, I fear that I would alone endure the silence of these thoughts."
Faramir glanced at her as they paused to reside at a stone bench, set under a sprawling tree, one that had no leaves or blossoms, but remained withered and twisted. "I will say you should not have to face these fears alone," he said, patting her arm in what he hoped was a comforting manner. "I told you this yesterday and I believe I even told you the day before…"
"Do not mock me," she said, her lips twisting into an ironic smile as she fought to hold in a chortle.
"I would dare not mock such a Lady," Faramir said, as though the very thought were forbidden to him. He had but to meet her eyes once before he relented, shrugging under the heat of her writhing stare. "No, I say that I would not and I mean it."
"Of course," she said, but she didn't believe him. He didn't really believe himself, either.
What little he had discovered from the Halfling was that this woman was solely devoted to the defense and protection of Rohan. Her uncle, the King, had died in the attack on Minas Tirith and her elder brother was now the King of Rohan. She was close in age to the other woman that rode with them, one that Merry fondly called Merilin. She had ridden to battle in the hopes of a swift death in a blaze of glory that had yet to awaken the will to live within her. As he stared at her pale face today, he saw that their past day of conversations had done little to sway her mind. She was still set in defending this world as was the other woman, she had said wryly.
They sat in the warmth of the sun for awhile, not speaking but staring out at the dead garden and watched as their hopes grew closer to extinction. He felt her hand on his and gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze to let her know that she was not alone in worrying for such things to come to pass. If Sauron were to recover the one Ring, their world would fall in a matter of hours. There was no strength left in the Elven kingdoms of old, he had sadly said yesterday. There had once been a great strength with the High Kings of old but their light had passed from the world and even now, there seemed to be warmth lacking in the bright light shining down upon them.
Finally, Éowyn spoke up, as though to herself rather than to him. "I wonder if she will ever tell him before she dies," she said under her breath.
"I beg your pardon?" he asked, turning to look at her. She gazed at him and lifted a shoulder as she turned away.
"Buffy," she replied, as though expecting that he should have known this. "I know from the way she spoke that she believes she will not return."
"Do you not have faith in her skills?" he asked her.
"I have much faith," Éowyn replied sadly. "She speaks of this as her destiny, as something she was solely born to be, as I was. She does not see that many would miss her should she pass." She paused a moment. "My brother loves her. He will not readily admit this, but I see in his eyes and in his heart that she is one he loves. I know that she cares for him and I only hope he knows the truth before she…" She couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence. The bitter rejection from Aragorn seemed like so long ago, before riding off into war without a care for survival. Buffy had been right. The hardest thing in this world was to live in it. To live would be admitting to herself that she loved the thought of becoming someone she knew she was destined to be.
If Faramir knew her thought, he chose wisely not to comment. He did, however, find the subject of a female warrior and a King of some interest. "Do you really feel that she cares for him as he cares for her?"
"She did not deny it," Éowyn said with a triumphant smile. "She may deny much, but she did not deny what she felt towards him. I hope that she will not cower in the face of death and speak plainly."
For a moment, her hand fell lax as he released his hold. And then, "Would you allow me to speak plainly?"
"I would."
"I will not act as a coward as you have called those close to your heart," he said, frowning as he gazed into the distant light, which seemed to be waning in comparison to the dark clouds nearing the horizon. "I have known the love of no woman save my mother, and her spirit died within hours of my coming into this world. You have given me a gift and it heals me, as you see."
"I still have no gentle hand," she said, turning to gaze at her flesh, which was marred with bruising left over from the battle. Her broken arm was still bound in its sling, yet she refused to show one ounce of discomfort, believing the women of Rohan to have backbones of steel and nerves of iron. It was only in this moment that she found herself opening to this man as he gazed upon her. "I am glad that you are healing, lord," she said at last.
He watched as she rose and took a few steps forward.
"The hardest thing in this world is to live in it," she said, echoing Buffy's words. "They are far true for those of us who wish not to believe in them. I have only known one life and had one dream, to be as the Queens of old, to slay and fight for my country."
"To say that would deem you a darkness impenetrable," Faramir said, rising to stand next to her. It seemed to him that she grew with sadness, but no longer did he look upon her with pity. He was far beyond the greatest of pities. He now looked upon her with respect as one of such esteem could garner from the lords of old. Her strength was in her words and in her actions. Her sorrow did not move him as it once had. But, in that moment, he saw the hope for life in her eyes as she gazed out over the garden wall.
"There is no warmth left in the sun," she said calmly. "This day has gone cold as the world soon will follow with it."
He gently reached down and took her hand. "The sun may have gone today, but will return tomorrow with strength renewed," he said, gently pressing his opposite hand to her icy cheek. "I do not believe such darkness will endure."
As he swept away, she stared after him, long after his shadow had departed.
x-x-x
It had come to the point of no return. Aragorn had already sent the fearful backwards to reclaim some island she knew she couldn't pronounce. They had already rested a few hours as they rode through the night, counting on their four best pairs of eyes to guide them through the darkness. They had at last reached Morannon but she had yet to see it aside from a few spike-covered towers and a long wall between them. She could still hear the beating of wings far above her head through her advanced sense of hearing, but she wasn't about to let the others know. They were dour and dark-tempered as it was.
Aragorn quickly called the horsemen to halt until the others had a chance to catch up. Buffy found herself unknowingly with the company of the Rohirrim, but didn't move until she heard Éomer call her name. She turned to see him standing near her horse. Blinking down at him through the darkness, she quickly made her report. "There's still no one within a ten-mile radius," she said, smothering a yawn. "Those evil things are still overhead. No, I don't see any light from the other side and I haven't heard anything aside from horses snorting and walking for hours. And—"
Her voice was cut off by the sudden presence of his hand on hers. "Oh," she said softly.
"I wish to speak with you ere I lose this final opportunity," he said. She quickly dismounted Sador and her faithful horse remained behind with the others. Despite the high tension that seemed to be running amok through the encampment, she still found her heart racing nearly a thousand miles a minute as he pulled her aside. "I have need of counsel."
"Whatever you need, it can wait," she said hurriedly. She didn't want to get into this conversation again. "We're about to go to war."
"One that either if not us both can be easily lost," he said deeply.
"You can't die," she said simply. "I told Éowyn you'd be coming back to her."
"Did you not speak of yourself as well?" he asked her.
"I didn't."
"You know now that you will never return," he said, the sound of dawning realization evident in his tone of voice. "You believe this truly will end your journey."
"It will," she admitted. She felt his eyes on her in the dark, and she knew she was going beyond what she had wanted. "Look," she said quickly. "I know that it's coming. I can't stop it. I can't resist it."
"I could order you to return with the others," he said, his tone threatening.
She shook her head sadly. "No, you can't. Gandalf would just simply have to overrule you and I'd still be fighting at your side."
"I only wish you would consider to always fight at my side," he said as though it were an afterthought.
"If I could," she said softly, "I would. I'd follow you anywhere. You are worth it, you know."
"What worth I must possess if the one that I care for seeks her own death in a battle," Éomer said, his tone darkening.
"I don't seek it," Buffy snapped. "I know it's coming. I saw it, okay? In my dreams, I saw myself die. It wasn't pretty and it hurt… it really hurt. But I knew that it would comfort me because I was dying for someone I—" She cut herself off just in time. Shaking her head, she brushed her hair from her eyes before sighing. "I wish things could be different. I wish I could be the person you want me to be, but I'm not. I'm Buffy. I'm not this Merilin Gandalf created just to have some pawn to move around some metaphorical chess board. I can only be who I am."
"Do you think I would care if you were anything but who you are?" he asked. It seemed to him that he was still looking at her, but the disappointment and hurt were clear in his crystalline gaze.
"You've only known me for what, three weeks? How can you care about me that much?" she challenged.
"How could I not?" he asked, his tone dropping. "I have seen you fight as though you were one of us. You are one of us. You have strength and speed and skill that many would give their lives for to fight behind. These men would follow you until death because they know you protect them." He paused as he watched her shake her head. Even with the distance lights of the approaching army, he could see the dark look on the faces about him. "I know that you care for this world. I do not know how I came to this, but I know that if you were given the choice, this would not be your journey's end."
"You're probably right," she said after a pregnant pause. "But I can't care. I have to save the world. We all have something to save here. You have your kingdom. I have my destiny. For now, they mesh. And they'll mesh until I'm dead and you're back at Edoras."
"I only wish for you to—"
"Don't you understand?" she cried softly. "I can't love you."
There was a long silence between them. Even the beating of wings high above their heads seemed to abate as she felt as though, for a time, the world stood still.
"Then I have my answer," he said curtly, turning on his heel.
"Don't," she said, her voice a half-plead. He turned to regard her. "Don't hate me because I can't."
"I will never hate you," he said, moving closer and pressing his hand to her face. She turned her bright eyes to him and even in the darkness, he saw the outline of her face. If only he could see her eyes, which had turned deep and sad from admitting the one thing she had never wanted to say, ever. "We both may die tomorrow and whatever happens, I wanted you to know what I felt before the morning came. I do not pretend to know things of such matters, but I know enough to know that I will never receive anything from you that you have not already given me."
Buffy reached up and covered his hand with her own and for a moment, he swallowed his hurtful words. "Just because I can't love you doesn't mean I don't care," she said softly. "I don't love easily. I've been hurt so badly before… because those I care about die. I don't want that to happen to you."
He knew from the brutal honesty of her tone that she spoke the truth. He only wished that he could have what he truly wanted and knowing that she felt something did nothing to appease his growing fears. She had already marked herself for death. If it were to be the death of them all, he would see to it and fight until the bitter end had come. And yet he remembered, just days before on the Pelennor Fields, the young woman standing next to him, telling him that they should never give up, no matter how badly they were outnumbered. Her sharp words spoke to him even now.
"I have ridden in defense of fields and towns for far too long," he said. "I know not how to rule a Kingdom or pass judgment on those. I wish to leave that to the King, but I find myself with such title. I desire nothing of the lordship given to me by blood, but I will take it nonetheless. And I no longer wish to be alone."
"You're going to be a great King," she replied fervently. "It's your destiny. And we all live out our destinies, right? Sometimes fighting alone prepares us for what we face ahead." In her mind, she saw 'ahead' as the Heaven awaiting her on the other side of the painful death she had dreamt of.
He withdrew his hand, but her fingers gently closed around it. For a moment, he felt warmth spread from her touch and it seemed to spurn him on with her inner strength, which had been her greatest fire. Her death would be a tragic loss for Rohan, he knew. She had strength enough to make Rohan strong and to heal it of its hurts and pains of the past. He had seen her fighting spirit and he had too seen her heart. And he knew from that moment on, he would not let her go.
"Do not die because you know you must," he finally managed to say even as she turned to walk away; the others had arrived. "If you had wanted certain death, you would have died in Gondor."
In response, he only received a faint smile, visible to him through the darkness. It seemed to him that an unspoken promise had been passed between them. They stood on the brink of disaster, but they were no longer alone.
x-x-x
The next part is a battle chapter and, alas, one of the hardest I had yet to write. I did include a bit of lightness amidst the darkness, with another round of my favorite relationship. I am rather pleased that this story is nearly complete. After over a year of toiling with plotlines and developments, well… there really aren't many significant contributions to the plot albeit what happens in the following chapter. It is a rather dark chapter, as well, just to forewarn you.
I am leaving for a few days… my other story will be updated upon my return.