Journey's End
Pairings: There are some book pairings.
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: We are finally on the "home stretch", so to say. It has been one "hell" of a ride.
Lorency – Buffy's going to have to fight both poison and a stab wound through her chest, not to mention a few cracked bones. She is definitely going to need time to recover from this, but at least this wasn't the terrible end she had predicted! The rest of her dream is spelt out here on how she thought it would 'end'.
Claddagh – I had to stop there. I couldn't add any more angst… I felt overtaxed. Besides, it was better than my original ending, in which Éomer finds her and then thinks she's dead, and you don't figure out she is alive until this chapter.
Toras – why, thank you! And, yes… I realize that… you are the first person to bring it up. While the idea of throwing a figure at another who is already book-betrothed, well… it just worked well for the story. I edited the "pairings" part. I would understand if you did not wish to read further, but I am going to keep this same pairing. It really was a choice between two, and this one seemed to work out better in the end.
Sparky24 – You are such a dear, you know that? I know I sound like my mother, but you truly are. Thank you for your comments. And, yes, I think mush would be a great thing to have after, well… a final battle.
Lizzie – Oh, dear… don't cry! Everything is going to be all right… err, honest…
Anneliese – It was never an intended pairing. It sort of caught on about halfway through the story. I found it to be something we could work with, so we explored it. I have been to 'Twisting the Hellmouth' before, because I review there, but I have yet to post anything. I might have to consider that, because I do read over there.
Russa – Okay, okay, I promise I will stop with the self-doubt thing. As for Buffy, she is alive. As for okay, well… that may take awhile. Thank you for your comments (and compliments)… it really does help.
Pamie884 – well, thank you very much! I am sorry however for your tears… it was not my intention to cause any! As for what comes next, we are on the "home stretch" so to speak. There is still a little bit that is left to tell, though.
Rcaqua – of course… here you go.
Hithwen Tinuviel – okay, that is one of the nicest compliments I believe we have received. Thank you. This is hard, considering Buffy isn't really "our" character or our favorite character for that matter. It means a lot that you think so!
FallenStar2 – well, thank you very much!
Chapter Summary: As their victory becomes clear, both injured and not recover from a war that had devastating effects on the entire world.
Chapter Warning: This chapter was meant to be the sort of chapter that comes after a war… relief, gratitude and cheer. I just had to include the two-and-a-half page addendum from Éowyn and Faramir from the last chapter. The title for this chapter comes from the Emily Dickinson poem of the same name… I thought it had a really fitting theme for the entire chapter. Once again, it is a longer one, but these next few are going to be a bit, well, long. In the next few chapters, there is mush abound! But I felt that this chapter, more than any, gave the payoff.
x-x-x
Chapter 22
Because I Could Not Stop For Death
By Alyson Kay
x-x-x
It was deep into the night by the time the ships had arrived. They had been docked at Cair Andros following the victory of the forces there and they were under the captainship of Elfhelm, one of Éomer's Captains. Once the ships were docked, the injured were quickly loaded aboard, along with the few supplies they had remaining. It was also under the combined forces of the Dúnedain and the sons of Elrond that the remnants of Sauron's forces were chased back towards Ithilien in another hapless pursuit, one that would finalize their victory for certain.
Gandalf had returned with Frodo and Sam and Pippin was keen to look after his fellow Hobbits. He was also most concerned about the blonde woman who had been with the Rohirrim. Many were relieved to see that she lived, but her situation was most dire. Aragorn was the first to tend to her, and she barely moved even when he called her from her sleep.
"It seems her ills go far beyond what we thought," Aragorn said to Gandalf, who refused to leave the side of his pupil.
"She was certain she would not outlive this battle," Gandalf said, watching as Aragorn gently cleansed the deep scar on her palm. The black poison had breached her hand and had extended into her wrist and along her fingers. Her armor had been removed, admitting a large chest wound that caused Aragorn to grimace slightly when he realized that she had been run through by a sword. She had great strength indeed if she had outlived this. There were also two darts of poison that he had been able to see, as well as a few cracked ribs and many, many bruises. "It is a miracle she survived at all."
"Perhaps she realized that she did not want to leave this world," Aragorn replied, checking on her tightly wound bandage around her chest and abdomen. He gently replaced her shredded tunic before lifting a blanket to her shoulders. "I have done all I can. Only her strength will ensure her survival."
Gandalf watched as Aragorn departed, but he refused to leave Buffy behind. As he watched her unconscious form attempt to heal itself from its many hurts, he began to think of the reason why she would not allow herself to let go of a world she barely knew.
"Perhaps you were not ready to let this world go," he said softly, watching a muscle along her jaw twitch as the stinging solution Aragorn had applied to her raw skin began to seep in. "Perhaps you care more for this world than you believe you ever wanted. If this is the case, you must find the strength within yourself to hold on and to fight the poison. I want you to live. There is much yet for you to see and be and do. But only you can decide your next fate." He turned and sat upon a bench, his eyes never leaving her face. "But know this – you have friends amongst these people and I myself consider you to be dear. It would be a pity for you to give in now."
x-x-x
It was dark, even in the labyrinth of passageways in her mind. Buffy knew she was sleeping, but she could not quite place the pieces around her. They were all in motion, with voices and sounds and colors all swirling around her. And her head ached at the thought of seeing them all in pain or with great joy. It was as though her life was flashing before her, with Dawn's birth and her return home from the hospital. She saw flashes of her closest friends, her mother's death, her friend's betrayal and Faith, her sister Slayer and the only other person who understood what it was like to be her.
There were so many of them, all calling out to her, all telling her it would be okay to just let go.
But, she didn't want to let go. There was still so much she had to know. What had happened to Éowyn, the tremulous soul she had left behind in that big tiered city to face her own inner demons? What of the people she had served? Did they no longer matter to her?
Her mind was trying to convince her that they were all okay, but it wasn't something she was willing to buy.
And then she saw it. Vast green shores under a brilliant golden sun. She felt a smile adorn her face as though hovering above her body. There were waves crashing against sandy beaches and a line of trees in the distance. She could smell the air and could practically taste her freedom.
At last, she had everything she had ever wanted. She had been loved and lost, forgotten and befriended but the one thing she never knew was if those she cared most for had survived the end. She wanted to hold onto this feeling forever, but she knew also there would be another time. It was time to let go of this. It was time to let go of the freedom. She was willingly giving up her chance at Heaven and the life after.
She wanted to go home.
x-x-x
Éowyn joined Faramir on the third day past the victory of their forces. It was a very cold morning and Éowyn had been bound in a thick cloak that had been given to her by Faramir. He took one look at her and admitted that the cloak had once belonged to his mother. "You do not know the vision you have given me when adorning that," he said wistfully, watching as she moved to sit beside him.
"It is cold and this brings me warmth," she said, curling her hands inside the cloak and drawing it up to her face to feel the material shimmer against her pale cheek. She grimaced suddenly, lowering her hand. Faramir watched as she leapt to her feet and strode the length of the garden until she reached the wall. He saw her searching eyes.
"What sense you?" he asked, watching as she reacted to the quiet mountains in the distance.
"Since the victory, I have thought of nothing but death," she said quietly. "I only wish I knew of Merilin's survival. How I wished she could have remained! She was a wonderful friend and, for a time, one of my people." She pressed a hand to her lips. "My brother loved her."
"You have spoken of this," he said gently, his hand touching her shoulder. "But he is strong and valiant! Surely word will soon reach us. The moment the victory was secured, half of our stores were sent to Osgiliath to prepare for their coming."
"Your duties no longer lie with me," she said, bowing her head slightly. "I do not know why you remain."
"I see you as fair and beautiful, my lady," he said, reaching down to take her hand. "There is not a man who could deny what I have seen and have come to love and admire these past few days. I know that you have the strength to endure what has come to pass." Bending over, he pressed his lips to her forehead. "Do not think for one moment that your kin will not return to you. If they have half of the strength you possess, they will prevail. You will see them again."
She felt a misty smile fall onto her face and exhaled. She had no idea where this man would come up with such optimism, but it made her feel that much better as he consoled her. She let him draw her closer and lifted her arms to wrap tightly about his shoulders, resting her cheek to his chest. When she stood here, she had no thoughts of impending death, doom or destruction. She was completely at peace, with both herself and her surroundings. She half-wondered if it would always be like this, since her thoughts most of the time were frigid and dark. But here, she thought, no dark dream could penetrate this.
It was almost as though she were fond of their meetings. He had accused it of her the day before. She had admitted that, for awhile, she forgot about everything else. She just wanted to forget, to be someone that she knew she wasn't meant to be. How could she pretend to be a lady when she was a hot-blooded woman with desires that lay beyond serving any man? She longed to be out in battle!
She lifted her face to his and his hand gently caressed her cheek. "My Éowyn," he teased, touching his forehead to hers. "I only wish we could have more time."
She wished so, too. They had such precious little time to spend in one another's company that she felt her darkness start to quell. She didn't want it to, but there was no stopping an inevitable disaster. "Must you go?" she asked quietly as he stepped away. "I do wish you could remain."
"There is a reason for me to part," he explained. "I have my responsibilities now, and a Stewardship to attend to. But I wish you well, Éowyn. This city could use a bit of your touch, though from the hardest of hands. The day may come when your brother calls for you and you must be prepared to go to him."
"I may not wish it," she said quietly, and his eyebrows lifted in surprise as he gazed at her. "I would not like to leave you behind."
For a long moment, they exchanged a look before he stepped closer to touch her face again. It seemed in that moment her gaze softened and her eyes became like identical pools of liquid blue crystal. "This is your life, my Lady. I have no say in what you do or what you believe to be right."
But she wished he would, she realized as he walked away. She crossed her arms and returned to the guardrail, glancing at Minas Tirith as it sparkled in the cold sunlight below. She wished that he could do something to chase away her darkest dreams, calling her unto death renowned by a glory unsurpassable.
It was in this moment, perhaps, more than any other that she realized that it was him she needed most of all.
x-x-x
It was a gentle sound. There was a light breeze that was whistling through treetops while the faint scent of sage and lavender wafted through an opening. The air was warm and pleasant and outside there was the sound of the faint trickling of water.
It had to be as close to Heaven as she could get. Gandalf had spoken of long white shores and turquoise waters. It would make sense that wherever she was had those things.
It seemed to be until she heard the sound of laughter.
Buffy's eyelids fluttered open, taking in her surroundings. She was lying on a cot of some sorts with a few blankets tucked in neatly about her. There was a tent erected all about her, but from what she could see, she was the only inhabitant. A fair breeze was blowing through the open flaps, and a pitcher of water and a flat tray containing bits of herbs were blowing in the slight breeze.
This wasn't exactly what she had in mind. The last thing she remembered was the stench of the half-Troll crushing her beneath him. She hadn't had the strength to move him, either and for this she felt shame. There had been an intense pain and Buffy, who had felt her journey come at last to an end, had closed her eyes and prepared to let go of every last aspect of this world. She had only been here a short time. Or, rather, she had only been there a short time, hadn't she?
Pulling her hands from under the covers, she felt her arms and brought her fingers to her face. It seemed so much more real than a dream. She pinched the skin on her shoulder and blinked. It had actually felt like she had pinched herself. She couldn't really hurt herself, but that didn't mean that where she was wasn't some reality…
She pulled her hands from her face and stared at them. Her right hand was wrapped in some sort of linen bandage. She had a faint recollection of a poisoned dart going straight through her palm in her attempt to save the Halfling. She ripped the linen from her palm and saw the bruise and markings, suggesting that her memories were indeed intact. But, if she were dead, why would she remember how she died? Why would she carry the scars from the battle? What if she wasn't… dead?
That would mean that she was still alive.
Her hands immediately went to her abdomen, inspecting the marks left over from where the sword had impaled her. Lowering her dressing gown, she continued to blink, not comprehending what was happening.
She felt a pair of eyes on her and quickly straightened, focusing her attention on the figure that had suddenly appeared in the doorway.
"Gandalf?" she asked.
He looked surprised to see her awake and staring at him so. He stepped aside as one of the Elves entered. When he saw her, his face broke out into a wonderful smile.
"She lives!" he said in relief as he came forward, pouring a glass of water and pushing the goblet into her weakened hands. "Take a drink, my Lady."
"Okay," Buffy said slowly, taking a bit of the water. It was the most wonderful tasting fluid she had ever ingested. "That was… good."
The Elf took the goblet from her hands and set it aside. "How feel you?"
"I'm… alive," Buffy said, turning as Gandalf nodded, a smile breaking out over his ancient face. There were only a few questions on her mind, and before she could stop herself, she found herself gushing. "How? Why?"
"There is only one reason as to how," Gandalf said, leaning on his staff and surveying her as he would his child. "The poison in your blood had not yet killed you. Aragorn was able to banish the worst of it. This is how you live still."
"It doesn't answer the question as to why," Buffy said dryly, her fingers subconsciously probing the large circular mark on her hand.
"I will take my leave," Elrohir said, bowing his head and ducking out of the tent. He looked as though he couldn't get away fast enough.
"Your plan failed rather miserably," Gandalf said, looking somewhat pleased at telling the Slayer she was wrong about the people of this world. "They would not forget you as easily as you would have forgotten them."
"The Rohirrim saved me?" she asked quietly. After being such a nagging priss to them, she couldn't understand why they would want to save her, let alone ensure her survival.
"One Rohirrim saved you," Gandalf replied fervently.
"Oh," she said, glancing down at the dirty bandages lying in her lap. Inside, she could feel her spirits swell. It seemed as the hope she'd thought was bad luck was still alive after all. She felt such joy at overcoming certain death that as she glanced back up, the Wizard could see the tears sparkling in her hazel eyes.
"Shall I take my leave?" Gandalf asked, watching as she pressed her hands to her eyes and brushed the rebellious tears away.
She shook her head. "No," she said, giving him a shaky smile. "Tell me what happened. I have to know how it all ended."
"You already know," Gandalf said, giving her his wizened smile. "I trust that the knowledge has been passed."
"I want to hear it from you," she said insistently.
"Very well," he said, lifting his robes and approaching the bench next to her bedside. But before he could sit down, another figure had stepped inside the tent. "Perhaps another time," he said, patting Buffy's shoulder as he left the tent without another word. Buffy opened her mouth to protest, but all words failed her when she saw the look being directed to her by the King of Rohan.
"Hi," she said, quickly smiling.
He didn't say anything. He walked towards her before bowing his head. "My Lady."
Her words were stuck in her throat. "Good battle, huh?" she asked, trying to take the attention off of herself.
"We emerged victorious," Éomer said, his eyes clear and bright as he looked upon her.
"That much is obvious," she said, gesturing to the quiet atmosphere. "Where is everyone?"
"Many are healing like you," he replied. "The others are awaiting the Ringbearers to awaken from their deep sleep. We have much to celebrate now that Sauron has been destroyed."
She had needed to hear it from him, she thought. The war was over. The greatest evil in this world had been destroyed. The war had come to an end. And, yet, she was still alive. It really was a miracle.
She looked down. Her fingers picked at the loose threads on the blanket as she struggled to say what she really wanted to. Finally, she felt him take the seat Gandalf had been so close to taking. "You saved my life," she said at last.
"I could not let you die," he said, watching as she looked up at him, slightly confused.
"You could have," she said with a tight smile. "I've been there before. I wasn't afraid to let go."
"You did not have anything left to fear," Éomer replied evenly. "I did."
"I was so ready to let this all go," she said tragically, hanging her head. "I was such an idiot."
"You acted as though you had lived your life," Éomer replied.
"I have," Buffy insisted, but he wasn't looking at her. He was reaching over and took her injured hand into his own. "How long have I been out?"
"Not two days ere the sun rises," Éomer replied, his callous fingers gently stroking her hand. She never would have pegged such kind movements from such a man, she thought, staring at the action as though she couldn't believe her eyes. "Your hand has healed rapidly."
"One of the good effects of being a Slayer," she said as he tenderly set her hand down. "How are the others?"
"We lost a few good men," he admitted.
We? She thought to herself, feeling even more confused.
"The others that live await your return," Éomer said, getting to his feet as a man who had completed his mission. "They will be most pleased to see you again." He paused. "I have sent word to Éowyn of your recovery. For someone who has taken great ills on this journey, she could use tidings as glad as these."
She watched as he left, feeling overwhelmed. She hadn't counted on this. She hadn't even considered the possibility that she would survive the last battle. She had no idea what happened next or where to go from here. She had counted on a death, no matter how painful, one in which she would fade away and know that all she had lived and fought to protect was looked after. She hadn't thought of this.
There rest of her life was a long road, completely unknown, standing straight before her. She had worked to cut off the only people that had grown close. And now, after days of alienation, she was alive and well as though none of it had happened.
Apparently, her journey didn't end with her death.
The light soon faded and she heard the sounds of song and music in the distance. She rose and glanced around, looking for something to cover her plain white gown with. She found a green cloak that was far too large for her size, yet she wrapped it snugly around her small frame as she slipped past the tent. She was greeted by one of the most beautiful sights she had yet to see.
The sun was setting behind the mountains in the west. She stepped forward and lifted her hand to shield her eyes from the day's last light. A soft breeze played around her hair, and she felt a strange sense of comfort fall over her. It was almost as though something was telling her she was going to be okay. There was a reason she was still alive, she fathomed. She just hadn't come across it yet.
"My lady?" a voice asked near her elbow. She turned slightly to see one of the taller Rohirrim standing at her shoulder. "You should not be out of bed; you were gravely hurt and to walk about would only injure you further."
"I'm okay, really," she said, giving him a bright smile. "I'm a little sore but after what I went through, I won't complain. How are you holding up?"
He looked surprised but touched by her concern. "I was uninjured," he admitted. Before she could turn away, he added, "When King Éomer told us tidings that you lived still, it brought hope to many of our hearts. In the future, he wishes for you to remain with us, as do we all."
Well, that was certainly a plausible career choice, she thought ironically as she nodded. "I'll think about it."
"You should have seen him," the man continued as Buffy stepped away. She half-turned to glance behind her. "He had many of us searching for you once the Halfling had told him you had fallen. I had never seen him as distraught as when he had believed you lost. He was adamant that he find you whether you lived or not."
To know that someone here cared about her enough to do such things was surprising to her, yet she felt her head nod. "Thank you," she said warmly. "I mean…"
"My lady," he said, bowing and ducking into the shadows. Her eyes followed after him until she felt the warm, pleasant glow in her stomach return. She had only felt it once before and that was when Éomer had brought her tidings of the last debate.
Éowyn had been right. Éomer did have feelings for her. His persistence in finding her had proved it. He had tried to tell her, but she had refused to let him, twice! What kind of person was she?
The truth was, this new King was appealing to her a lot more than the old, grumpy Marshal. The prospect of such responsibility had humbled him into someone she respected. Of course, she'd respected him when he'd had his sword and was about to thrust it down her throat, too. But this was different. This was almost… well, she couldn't quite place it. She didn't have to. Any second now, someone would be there to tell her what she was supposed to do with herself.
Any second now.
She opened her eyes but found that she was still standing alone near her tent. In the distance, she could see the smoke from dozens of fires. There were men lifting large tankards to victory. She thought she could see Gandalf standing near Aragorn as the two applauded the Halflings as they danced in silly circles, singing about their pub from the Shire. She moved closer, standing amongst the women laughing and applauding the Hobbits on. Buffy felt a strange sense of attachment to both of them. Sure, they were both slightly daffy at times, but when something really mattered, they stood out farther than any able-bodied man because their heart surely made up for their lack of height.
They were soon called out to tents along the fields and Buffy found herself sitting in a tent that was rather empty. This suited her fine. She didn't want to draw attention to herself. She had only been sitting a few moments before a cheerful face peered around the flap of the white tent.
"She's in here!" Pippin called, before stumbling over to the bench where Buffy sat. "You're awake!"
Merry's face, alight from what was likely ale, appeared over Pippin's shoulder. "When Gandalf told us, we thought he was mad!"
"Yes, I'm awake," Buffy said, swallowing her greens and nodding to the benches across from her. "You can sit if you want."
"Many thanks," said Pippin, who was in danger of tipping his plate. "We must thank the fine men of Gondor for bringing us this from their stores." He looked longingly at his bread and greens and began eating with almost unnatural flourish. Buffy picked though her greens before setting her plate aside.
"How are you both?" she asked, glancing at each Hobbit.
"I'm mostly healed," Merry said, nodding. "When they sent word to Minas Tirith that the Men of the West held victory, I rode directly to the fields." He gazed at the tent and the long grasses it covered with a particular fondness in his eyes.
"I'm glad," Buffy said, leaning onto her knees.
"You kept me from the greatest harm," Pippin said, his eyes blinking as they gazed into hers. "My life was saved because of you."
"I'm just happy you're both alive and well," she replied, stretching slightly as she got to her feet. "Now, if you'll just excuse me, I'll –"
But there was another figure staring at her from the other side of the tent. Gimli, the Dwarf, stood there, his jaw slightly agape before a broad smile came to his small face. "The luck you must possess, lady!" he roared, leaping into the tent with a jovialty that somewhat unsettled the young Slayer. She was fine with the company of two slightly tipsy Hobbits, but with a Dwarf, she knew she was no contest. "Bless your heart!"
"Gee, Gimli," she said, struggling to smile as the Dwarf clapped her shoulder hard. "It's good to see you, too."
The noise had prompted another visitor. Cool cerulean eyes scanned her pale face before the Elven figure stepped inside. 'Well, now we have a party started," she said, moving her plate to allow more seating.
"Forgive the intrusion," Legolas said in his calm tone as he towered over the small Hobbits, still eating and drinking noisily with glee. "Gimli was curious as to your condition."
"As were you," the Dwarf shot back with a cackle.
"I'm here and I'm in one piece," she said, holding out her arms to show that she was, indeed, as she said. "There's no need to worry."
"It was far better to see this progress with my own eyes," Gimli said with a stout nod.
"Considering how bad it got, I'm just amazed I'm still here," Buffy admitted in a low voice. Legolas looked puzzled as he gazed at her. "I thought I was going to die… but then, I thought… why would I want to die? I didn't come here to fight a war for three weeks and suddenly keel over… there has to be something else. There has to be a greater purpose… but… I don't know it."
"There are many uncertainties in life," Legolas said, walking over and taking the empty seat on the bench next to her. "It is not knowing the direct path that brings spontaneity to living."
"So, what you're basically telling me is that life goes on," she said with a sigh. "I thought that much. I just wish I knew where to go from here."
"There will be many days to recover from all of the hurts," Pippin said, lowering his goblet, his small face very serious. "Many were hurt badly in the final battle."
"There are many who still pursue the remnants of the forces," Gimli replied.
"There are even more who prepare for the coming of a King," Legolas said, a small smile gracing his features. "If this is not your journey's end, it is mostly his."
"Aragorn," Buffy said under her breath, turning her face away from their prying eyes. Of course, she thought. His return would secure the world of men. It really didn't give her a place in this world, but it certainly gave her a start.
Before one of the others could comment, there was a commotion outside of the tent. Buffy rose and swept past Gimli and quickly ducked under the tarp. In the distance, there was a line of horses and riders returning and she felt an overwhelming sense of relief to know that the battle had finally come to an end. The others followed her out as they approached the riders, led by one of the Rohirric Marshals. She felt her smile broaden as she saw their victorious smiles as they dismounted, throwing their fists into the air as word around camp rang true that the remnants of the Orcs and wicked Men from Mordor had finally been defeated. With them were riders from Minas Tirith, bringing with them banners and instrumentalists. Buffy felt her smile falter when the horses stepped aside to allow another group through; these men were driving wagons with both the wounded and the dead. The sounds of celebration faded as people noticed the wagons roll by. Buffy lifted her eyes and attempted to smile again, but this time, she couldn't.
She decided to follow the wagons to see what she could do to help. Her body was, for the most part, healing rapidly and she felt she owed these people something considering they had brought her back from the brink of death. The wounded were quickly placed in the tents while those who had the ability to heal went quickly after them. The dead were brought to a massive grave and buried.
Buffy remained there long after the sun had gone down and the stars twinkled overhead. She was about to retire to her own tent when she felt the presence of someone approaching her.
"My lady," King Éomer said, bowing his head slightly. "I have been looking for you. I wish to have a word."
She followed him through the darkness. In the fields of the valley below, there were still chants and songs of celebration. From where she was standing, it seemed almost surreal. "What's on your mind?" she asked, as he paused to stare at his people down below, a slight smile on his face. She shivered inwardly. Anytime she saw this man smile, it sent shivers down her spine. He was much more prominent at glowering.
"There are many things to consider 'ere I return to Rohan," he said, turning to glance at her. Even in the darkness, she could feel the penetrating intensity of his eyes. "Will you return to Edoras? Or have you other plans?"
She shook her head quickly. "To be honest, I'm not quite sure what I'm going to do," she admitted. "I just… I don't know. I was so certain I was going to die and yet… I'm alive. I don't know what happens now or where to go from here. I don't even know if I'm needed anymore."
He seemed to be concerned at her rambling, yet he listened to her even as her voice faded. "You can return with us," he said quietly. "For a small time, Rohan was your home."
"All of three days, maybe," Buffy quipped, before she sighed and her face turned serious. "I'll think about it."
"If you are concerned with your life, you may be of use to Rohan," he said, half-turning to face her. "I have need of a Marshal and I believe you to be suitable."
She grimaced as she remembered their conversation from a few days before. "Yeah," she said quietly. "You said something about that." But never did she believe that they would be discussing that, right here and right now.
"As this war is over, I have no need for a counsel, but a Marshal is one position I do need," he replied. "This may not be what you had in mind for being as you are, but—"
"You're right," she said, cutting him off suddenly. "It's not at all what I had in mind."
"You had already foreseen your death," he said, his voice dropping angrily. "Surely you will look past what has already come and gone and find yourself a new mission?"
"I never got that chance before," she said bitterly. "Seconds before I was released from my duty forever, I was dumped in your world. I didn't have a choice. If I could have said no, I would have. This isn't my world. It's yours. I was just sent here to help out a King. I did my duty and did I get thanked for it? No. I'm still here. You obviously don't need a vampire Slayer here, as there aren't any of them to slay. Not to mention, you really have no need for a Slayer as the bad guys are either dead or running, and where does that leave me? It leaves me sitting here wondering what the hell I'm going to do now!"
"There will always be evil in this world," he sighed, walking a few steps away.
"That wasn't my point," she admonished, coming up along side him. "The point is… where do I go from here? What… what purpose do I serve? Am I still a Slayer or am I just…"
"Have you ever considered the possibility that you, for once, have a chance to do something you have not yet been able to do?" Éomer asked her, turning to face her again.
"I don't know!" she cried. "How can I know? I've only been here three weeks and I was ready to give up everything…" She cut herself off as she shook her head, crossing her arms. She had no idea what she could say. She really didn't know why this conversation had turned so hostile, anyway. Someone had to be punishing her for something, because she was never this emotional in matters concerning herself. She felt her eyes close and she sighed deeply.
His hand reached out to gently cradle her face. "You have been given another life, another chance at achieving anything to your will. Do you not have the means to take it?"
"My journey ended back on that battlefield," she said, glancing up at him. "I don't know if I can do another one."
"Perhaps it is best for that decision to lie amongst those of us who hold the power to give it unto you," he said, and she felt his calloused skin smudge a tear that had trickled from the corner of her eye. "I would give you what you seek, for I know that your loyalties have saved many. I can see in your eyes that you would not abandon our people."
Her gaze softened slightly. "I'll think about it," she said, referring to his offer. She knew what being a Marshal meant, after having spent so much time amongst them. They were gifted riders who protected the many fields and plains of Rohan with Rohirrim under their command. Éomer himself was once both a Third and First Marshal and for him to offer her such a prestigious position should have brought her pride. Instead, she realized, she was confused. There was something under his offer, she thought. There was some underlying current of emotions and feelings there that she wasn't going to deny. She was a long way from home. He was offering her so much and it had started with the single touch. She felt his hand move from her cheek, but her own reached up to intercept it. "Don't go."
He gazed at her in surprise. "Have you something else on your mind?"
"I know I said that I couldn't love you," she said, refusing to break her gaze, "but it doesn't mean I don't care."
"I have little use for your explanations, now," he said, and she saw that her words before the battle indeed had a negative effect on him. His eyes were closed and he grimaced. "It may comfort you to hear your words, but your words have little comfort for me."
"Maybe this'll help," she said, swallowing hard. "I lied to you."
His brow furrowed as he gazed at her. "I do not know what you speak of," he said uncertainly.
"You don't know how much I don't want to be alone," she said quietly. "I've been alone for as long as I can remember, even if I'm with someone. The point is, I know what it's like to lead and I've just had a painful lesson in following." She touched her healing hand and winced. "But I can't be a Slayer where there's nothing to Slay. All that's left is me."
"Why do you think that I care for you?" he asked as they walked down towards the celebration below. "I know that you care for this world and would protect it with your very life. You have proven this yet again. Would you not be able to care for one as much as you care for the rest?"
"Someday," she said with a shrug, half-smiling. "Maybe… give me time."
But as she started to move away, she felt herself drawn into doing something she had wanted to do for quite some time. She paused as she heard his footsteps fade away. Smiling, she continued onwards, thinking that what she had wanted was inane, even ludicrous. Her thoughts changed less than a moment later. She felt her body being spun around and then she found a set of urgent lips upon her own. And then she gave up her resolve.
A moment later, he had pulled back as she stood there, unable to speak. She had been so close to closing the door, but somehow, he had found his way inside. He was a devious one. She was going to have to watch out for that.
It took less than thirty seconds for her to admit that watching him leave was not something she wanted to happen. She twisted one of her arms around his neck and brought his face to hers. At last, when they had separated, she felt her own smile widen in the darkness. "That's a start," she joked, trying to keep the surprise from her voice.
"It was something that I needed to know," he said, bowing his head to her again.
"Did you get what you needed?" she smirked.
He gave her a long look before turning and disappearing into the night.
Éomer returned to his own encampment, finding more than half of his men keeled over from the heavy effects of alcohol. His spirits felt surprisingly light.
He was going to have to thank his sister for his conscience someday. She had been the one to say that his feelings were going to betray his cold demeanor in the end. Indeed, they appeared to have done so already. He had found out everything he needed to know in their embrace. When she had been in his arms, he had felt the strangest sense of calm, although he had yet to pursue and court any women. There were many who would benefit from the love a King could bestow, but none like Buffy, he realized.
She wasn't his to love and admire, he thought, dropping down in front of the fire and gazing at it, the light reflecting in his eyes. But perhaps one day she would be.
Buffy made her way solemnly back to her tent, lost in thought. She wasn't sure what had just happened. But, for some reason, she didn't want that feeling to go away. It was the feeling of being wanted for something other than killing, maiming and torture. It was the first time in a long time that she felt like a woman and not just a slayer.
In a way, he had saved her life again.
She fell asleep. In her dreams, there was a dashing man promising to stand beside her. In her mind, though, the woman grieved, for she had lost much in her lifetime and those she had loved had suffered gruesome deaths. She had seen them all come apart and was unwilling to let the man even come close, but, in the end, her fears drove her to madness. As the dream drifted off, there was a song. It was a song of promise, of a rebirth, a second chance at a life she never really had. She was still the greatest feminine warrior the world had ever seen… but the Slayer was no longer needed.
And the woman left behind was no longer alone.
x-x-x
In the next chapter, two little Hobbits awaken to find that they were victorious in every possible way. And two women begin to realize the potential of finally opening up their hearts.