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: Wow. After six months of fixing this story… it has passed its one-year anniversary. That gives us some pride. We have spent a lot of toil and tears on this story. And we begin to think of it as our child the way it has been nurtured all of these months… now it is finally coming to an end. Following this part is another two-part and the last two-part. We do hope you enjoy!
Sparky24 – I think that Buffy would have learned from her past mistakes, even if she doesn't consider them to be "big" mistakes. After all, she was given a direction to go. She has many options, more of which will open to her in this next chapter. She will just have to pick one and run with it. She's growing up after what she's been through, which has basically been three weeks of a whirlwind adventure in death and destruction. Oh, and she does meet Frodo in this chapter… that was fun to write.
Sam – hello! Thank you for your compliments! I currently do not post this story elsewhere, and neither does Katrina. However, if you want the chapter as I post it, we would forward it along.
Pamie884 – I figured that it was time. I could personally have held it off another two or three chapters, but Katrina said 'enough already!'. I hope the mood continues, because knowing Buffy, she's a little… well, difficult to manage in these kinds of situations.
Lorency – Oh, thank you! Well, yes… I think things between them have changed a bit now. The only problem is… Buffy tends to run from the good things. This is perhaps the reason why some of the things that have to occur actually happen. In the end, though, I promise the good. They have yet to really "know", but they will learn.
Ringo's Wildrose – Yeah, well, everything cannot be so perfect for my favorite couple now, can it? This chapter uses two poetic aspects. The title is from a Robert Frost poem, and the poem within is one of my favorites as well. After reading many, many poems in my lifetime, we are finally able to put them to good use! Thank you for your comments.
Russa – Buffy does seem to have many brilliant adventures, doesn't she? This one has yet to come to a close though… there is still so much yet to tell… thank you!
Evilelvengoddess – Unfortunately, she will not see her Sunnydale friends again… but she will get a sign to know that they are "all right".
Canadian Coco Chick – Of course… and many thanks to you as well!
Surfin-stoner – Well, I am, of course, biased to Éowyn/Faramir as they are my signature pairing in almost EVERYTHING I have ever written, but shhh… Buffy Summers is just such a fun character to teach myself to write that, well… it gets fun after a while, ne? Thank you ever so much for coming out of your little hole!
Vampy the Chosen One – well, thank you my dear! Both of us thank you for your compliments. The story has taken one of those "journey's end" turns, hasn't it? Well, I can be the one to say the end has yet to come…
Chapter Summary: Living again may be the hardest thing to do, but it isn't something they do alone… and let the celebration begin!
Chapter Warning: After the mushiness in the previous chapter, this chapter basically covers the after-effects of what is truly going on. It does center around my two female leads but it does introduce two new Hobbits into the story. And, what fun is a chapter without a battle? Oh, and a tiny note to all of you students getting your butts kicked by exams and finals… hang in there! It's almost over! One final note, there is a poem used here by DH Lawrence called "Self Pity". It is one of the most beautiful poems I have ever come across… and it totally fit the theme of the chapter. Lastly, the title comes from the Robert Frost poem "Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening", or at least the 'miles to go' part is.
x-x-x
Chapter 23
With Miles to Go
By Katrina Claire
x-x-x
The first thing Buffy heard one morning was the sound of laughter. It was like déjà vu all over again.
Her body was stiff from lying in the bed too long. It was far too comfortable to be some sort of triage, but it worked wonders for her attitude. There was a loud burst of laughter right outside of her tent when a woman ducked inside, stifling her laughter.
Buffy watched through her eyelids as the woman walked over to the small table, replacing the clay water pitcher with one she held in her hand. She was about to turn away when Buffy decided to give herself away, groaning and rolling over for show. The woman turned and waited until the young woman had risen, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
"Good morning," she said, setting the empty pitcher aside and walking over to Buffy, who glanced up at her with sleep-narrowed eyes. She waited for Buffy to sufficiently stretch and yawn before suddenly taking her hand. Buffy cut off mid-yawn as the woman's cold fingers took hers. "Come with me."
The next thing Buffy knew, she was being yanked out of bed by force. Well, she could have put up more of a fight, but wasn't the whole point of recovering in a bed to relax her guard down? In any case, she let the woman pull her from tent to tent until she at last found a vacant one.
"In," she said, pushing Buffy in front of what looked like a large wooden bucket. Her eyes widened when she saw the six inches of water and what looked like plants floating on top of it.
"Are you kidding me?" she asked quietly.
The woman gave her a stern look. "No excuses," she said, pointing her bony finger towards the basin again. "In."
Buffy decided to do as she was told, for once. She carefully shed her white dressing gown and stepped gingerly into the warm water. She was half-relieved. She had expected it to be icy cold.
What turned out to be icy cold were the woman's hands as she carefully stripped away the bandages. Once they were clear, her icy fingertips ran over the smooth skin, marred only by a remnant of the deep wound that had been placed there only days before.
"You have been given a gift, child," she said quietly, watching as Buffy sank into the warm water. "Do not take it lightly."
"I never have," Buffy said, closing her eyes and stretching out her legs a bit. This was rather comfortable. The woman busied herself with gathering a few things before handing Buffy a coarse cloth and a chipped bar of soap. Buffy needn't ask what she had to do with it and quickly began scrubbing.
Her skin was more bruised than she thought. Her entire right hip was still a dark shade of a purplish-blue. And despite the fact her spearing was healing nicely, the area around the place where the sword had penetrated her was nearly black with tissue scar. No wonder she'd been out for so many days, she thought ironically, carefully cleaning her wound.
A small while later, she was being led into another tent, wrapped in a thick blanket that smelled suspiciously of horse. She let the women attend to her, replacing bandages and dressing her in something they saw fit for a woman to walk around in. After what seemed like forever, she felt fingers plunging into her hair, twisting and pulling it tightly from her face.
"Okay, stop," she said, sliding out from her stool. She felt her legs protest the movement yet ignored it. She had been poked, prodded, stripped and plunged into both warm and cold water that morning. She had just about reached her limits of pampering. She was thanking her lucky stars that she'd ignored the sentiments of a spa treatment. If it was anything like this, she was going to pass it up.
"If you would rather one of the Elves do it," the woman offered, a mischievous glint in her eye.
"How about not?" Buffy said glumly, turning around and carefully pulling her own hair, now only slightly damp, away from her face. Once it was up and not about to topple, she turned to look at the woman. "Does this pass inspection?"
The woman nodded slowly, her stern eyes surveying her. "She appears to be well again, Ioreth," she said to the older woman, who smiled gently at the blonde, who was still tugging at the hem of her gown.
"She looks like an angel," the older woman said with a wistful sigh. This stopped Buffy dead in her tracks from tugging at yet another gown they'd figured would be 'proper' for her. She slowly looked up as the older woman shrugged. "It would only figure she does not belong with us."
"Are you a human being or not?" Buffy asked sarcastically, but Ioreth didn't seem to pick up on it. Instead, she held the flap to the tent open.
Outside of the tent was glorious sunshine. Most of the men were far into the fields, once again celebrating their victory. The closer she got, the more wrinkled her nose got. It seemed that they didn't know how to take a bath even when there were no battles to fight.
"Look at you," a voice said from behind her. Buffy whirled around to see Gandalf approaching her, looking mildly surprised. "I barely recognized you without your armory."
"Very funny," she said dryly, looking around.
"Come," he said, touching her elbow lightly. She followed him through the throngs of men, some of who tipped their mugs and called out cries of welcome. She waved and occasionally said 'hello', but she tended to avoid them.
Once she was able to breathe freely through her nose, she let out a long breath and began frolicking a bit in the longer grasses. It felt wonderful to be out of that bed and her muscles were enjoying the exertion. She had been bedridden far too long, she realized. When she saw Gandalf looking pensively at her, she stopped moving around. "What?" she asked, her arms dropping to her sides.
"You remind me of the youth," he said kindly, tilting his head as he considered her. "For a moment, I had forgotten how young you are."
"I'm not that young," she said, quickly straightening her back and forcing her face into a serious expression.
"If anyone should be arguing that, it will be me," he said sternly. "I look good for my age. I just realized that for someone of great wisdom, you have many years left ahead of you." He paused a moment, considering his next words carefully. "There are many things that you could choose to be, now that Sauron and the one Ring have been destroyed. I know that King Éomer has offered you a position as a Captain in his Rohirrim. It is a high honor indeed for a shieldmaiden to get such a role, I understand."
Buffy recalled the memory of the night before and felt her lips twist into an ironic smile. "It would be nice," she admitted. "I mean, I'd get to fight. I'd get to lead. I'd be doing all of things I'd like to do as a Slayer, but…"
"You have been offered a second chance at life, Buffy," he said quietly, his gaze looking beyond her and beyond the Fields. "Or perhaps for even you, a fifth or sixth chance. For whatever reasons they have allowed you to remain with us, a warrior is not someone they have chosen. I can show you a great many things, but my time here is ending." His eyes looked wistfully at the bright sun above their heads. "I have done what I have been sent here to do and now all that remains for me is the choice to do what I must."
A sudden breeze swept through the fields and a hawk was displaced in the tree near them. Buffy watched as it took flight, finally disappearing into the horizon.
"You have your life before you, and many options that will be presented," Gandalf said, turning back to smile at her. "Your life as a warrior would be a solitary one. There are many friends amongst Rohan who would appreciate your return to their country as it was you who chose to attend to them in the first place. They would think of it a high honor for you to return. And," he added, a slight twist to his lips, "one the King may very well appreciate in times to come."
"Yeah," she said slowly, her eyes searching out the vast crowd below them, "about that…"
"You could always choose a life as one you have never had," Gandalf continued, watching as she continued to look about the men. "You could choose to travel the lands and see for yourself Arda that I myself have called home for many years. There is always the option of settling down and choosing a husband and starting a family as well. I know from your life that you never had that chance, even when it was so desperately close."
Her eyes suddenly turned to regard the Wizard sharply. "Exactly how long have you been spying on my life?" she asked curiously. "Was it anywhere like three or four years?"
"I only saw enough to understand that if anyone needed another option, it would be you," Gandalf replied.
"But I don't know anything else," she said vaguely. The Wizard looked pleasantly intrigued by her answer. "I mean, I'm the Slayer. That's what I've done for as long as I can remember. I kill things for a living. That's me, a natural born killer with a destiny to kill and… why am I explaining myself to you?"
"I am just telling you," Gandalf continued, watching as she turned back to gaze at the men, "if you were to ever have a second chance at a life of your choosing, now would be the perfect time to select one."
Her eyes continued until they settled on the target she had been searching for. Pressing her lips together, she nodded.
Gandalf followed her line of vision and found his gaze softening. "He is a noble man," Gandalf said gently. "He would be worthy of your love."
Buffy, knowing she'd been caught, glanced away. "He's a King," she said, lifting one shoulder in response. "And I'm just—"
"You are only a close friend to Rohan," Gandalf said, a hint of laughter in his voice, "his confidant and his advisor. Most of all, you are a woman who has survived certain death fighting for a country that is fighting to claim you as one of them."
Buffy turned the words over in her mind as she glanced back over the sea of faces until she found his again. "I shall die as one of them," she said at last, blinking up at the Wizard, who was still staring at the young King across the many bodies separating them.
"You have many years to go before your time passes," Gandalf said, finally gazing at her once again. "He is not a complicated man, not like the men you have known in your lifetime. He is a simple man bearing a great responsibility he never wanted. He will need his strongest advisor and I have taught you what you needed to know."
She almost laughed at that. What had he taught her? But before she could open her mouth to answer, she suddenly understood. "Is this what it was like when you first came?" she asked, frowning slightly. "Were you dumped unceremoniously, I might add, in a new world with not a lot of knowledge on what it was?"
"As I have said, I look good for my age," Gandalf replied, his face taking on a serious hue. "I have seen that he cares for you a great deal more than he cares to admit. I can see in your eyes that you feel for him, although you may not trust your heart. Your heart is what sets you apart from these people. It keeps you alive, even when all of your hopes are turned to death. You wanted life. You have your life now, before your eyes. In a few weeks time we will return to Minas Tirith for the return of the king. Perhaps at that time, your mind will have been made up." His face softened again at the look on her own. "I will show you all I can in that time, Merilin. You have become a good student. But you will come to learn that it will not take you centuries to find your place. It took you only a week to find yours. Whether you will care to admit it or not, you are now of Rohan. You will see it 'ere the end."
Turning, he walked away, leaving her in the solitude of her own thoughts. As she continued to walk into the longer grasses, she felt as though her mind was freeing itself. He had told her that they could travel together to see the world. She knew he was an old man whose time was nearly up, but the prospect of traveling when she hadn't been able to on Earth was, well, tempting. Then again, there was the thought of finally having a family and settling down for marriage. The truth was, she couldn't see herself with small kids running around. But, oddly enough, she could see a husband.
x-x-x
Faramir had been given word at his office that the lady Éowyn had fallen ill again. Of this, his heart was grieved as he had little time to see her. He was also guilty over his growing feelings for the icy maiden, and felt foolish that he hadn't spoken of their nature sooner. His feelings of remorse intensified at discovering that she hadn't left her room in days, since the news of her brother's survival had been brought to her. Faramir had hand-delivered the news of this Merilin, which seemed to cheer Éowyn immensely, but her dark eyes were troubled and sad as she had looked away. Something was bothering her conscious and, in a typical male form, he hadn't bothered to find out. He cursed his own stupidity and hoped that in time Éowyn would forgive him.
It had been days since their victory at the hands of Sauron had been complete. He had been released from the Houses of Healing, only to come into an office left in ruin by his father. At the summoning of the few aides he had remaining, he began to prepare for a great coming, one that was sure to be beautiful and magnificent and praised beyond praise. It had far too much to live up to.
His one lingering thought was of Éowyn, locked away in her garden, watching as the world began to heal as her own thoughts turned to frost. She had been so close to opening herself up to him, Faramir thought. He had to reach her.
He prepared a message and had an errand-keeper send it to her.
Éowyn was waiting in the gardens when the child handed her a single stem of an old white flower along with a small scroll. Accepting this package with a smile of gratitude, Éowyn turned and read the scroll while observing the flower.
It was true that her solitude was causing her to revert back to her old pensive self. She missed the companionship of the Steward but fully understood that his city needed him. Minas Tirith had great steps to go to achieve what few Kings had been able to create it as. And yet, she thought as she unrolled the scroll, she felt strangely alone. Merilin had survived the final battle and for this, she felt as though everything had been brought to the light. Buffy was alive. Her brother was alive. Both had sent for her to come to them in the fields, but Éowyn felt strangely drawn to where she was.
Perhaps it was because she was far from a battle that had nearly killed her.
Or perhaps it was because of the words of a kind man who had shown her nothing but compassion. The scroll was scripted beautifully and her pale fingertips traced the well-lined words. I never saw such a wild thing feel sorry for itself, she read. A small bird will drop dead from a bough without ever having felt sorry for itself.
The scroll continued on to attempt to cheer her with words coming from the battlefield, but her eyes were continuously drawn to the top.
These words were like an addiction she would soon never cure herself from, she thought as she rose, setting the scroll aside with the limp, dying blossom. Moving to the edge of the garden, she felt a small smile grace her features as she stared at the city below. They were both growing stronger, she thought, waiting for the cold sunlight to touch her face. It never did, but neither did the smile leave her as she continued to see a new world slowly coming back together.
In the city below, Faramir finished his duties and quickly made for the Houses of Healing. He had one last duty to see to, he thought firmly as he marched through the streets. Many smiled and gave warm shouts of welcome which he wholly returned, but his thoughts were foremost on the Shieldmaiden of Rohan, waiting for him a few levels above.
x-x-x
It was nearly sundown when Buffy returned to the encampment. The mood had once again turned to a group of men who had had far too much to drink. She carefully weaved in and out of the smaller groups but found herself facing two Hobbits. When they saw who was towering over them, they beamed up at her.
"We were just sitting down for supper," Merry said. "Will you join us?"
Buffy stomach lurched at the prospect of food. After setting off that morning, she'd walked and paced around the river's bed for hours that afternoon before making her way back. "Okay," she said, following the two into a smaller tent. At least she was far away from all of the drunken men.
"Hope you don't mind," Pippin said, offering her a plate of sausages and potatoes. His opposite hand held a pipe, which he was gesturing about with.
"Oh, go ahead," she said, waving her hand. "I'm used to the smoke." Well, after Spike, she thought dryly, she was. If Middle-earth had cured her of all of her second-hand smoke intake, well… a little pipe weed wasn't going to kill her.
They ate heartily until they were interrupted by Gimli, who stomped his way into the tent, a large mug swinging dangerously from one hand. "They are playing drinking games!" he announced to the two Hobbits, who exchanged a quick laugh before turning to regard the Dwarf. He seemed to straighten somewhat when he saw Buffy's somewhat bemused expression. "Have you ever played a drinking game, lass?" he asked her with a distinct hiccup. "They are even asking the Elves to have a go at it!"
The thought of Legolas or those Elvish twins drinking anything other than the finest of wines and water made her smirk. "Oh, this is something I have to see," she said, getting to her feet. Turning, she grinned at the two Hobbits. "Thanks for dinner."
"Anytime, my lady," Pippin called after her.
Buffy followed Gimli to where a table laden with mugs had been erected. There were a long line of men tipping the ale rather heavily, she thought, waving a hand back and forth in front of her nose. When she swung her gaze around, she saw Éomer standing there, near Aragorn and the Prince of Dol Amroth, looking rather bemused. For a second, their eyes met. She quickly blinked and looked away just as Gimli choked out, clapping his hands together, "Who's next?"
"Count me out," Buffy said quickly, clapping him on the shoulder and moving through the crowd. Although she made to move away, she couldn't help but smile when Legolas was led forward, looking solemn as usual.
"It is only ale, is it not?" he asked in his fair tone. Buffy stopped to watch him as he lifted a mug to sniff at it. She couldn't help but smile at Gimli's sudden entry into the contest as he all but leapt onto the table next to the Elf. The other men collected their brews and moved away as one of the younger men stepped forward with two fresh pints.
"At last," a voice murmured quietly at her elbow, "the Dwarf would have a chance to upset the Elf."
"Do you think he stands a chance?" she asked, grinning behind her at Aragorn. "Those Elves are pretty darned spry."
They watched in silent amusement as they both lifted the tankards and began gulping down, or rather, in Legolas' case, taking dainty slurps.
"I mean, I could do better than that," she admitted, gesturing as Gimli happily accepted a second while Legolas made a disgusted face, turning his azure eyes down to scowl at the mug he was drinking from.
"Why did you not enter such a contest?" Aragorn asked as they continued to move behind the crowds.
"Only because I have nothing to prove to anyone," she said with a faint smile. "I mean, you know I can run and swing a sword and I bet you know how accurate I can hit."
"Oh, that we do know," Aragorn said, laughing slightly as they paused to watch Legolas set down his first mug as Gimli let out a loud belch and wiped his beard on his sleeve before continuing to gulp happily away. "Here," he said, pausing at a second table and lifting a newly-poured mug into his hands. "For you."
Buffy took it, gazing at him suspiciously. "Are you trying to get me drunk?"
"That is not the point," Aragorn said, gently turning her around to point out the fact that nearly everyone was laughing and mocking the Elf and the Dwarf now. "Those two races have been at odds for many years and yet they sit together on this very night debating on which one can hold their liquor better."
"My money is still on the Elf," Buffy said stubbornly, yet she couldn't help but agree. Maybe there were better things than fighting battle after battle. All she had done since arriving in this place was fight battles, it seemed. "You're right," she admitted. "I should be enjoying myself more."
"There are many men who would lucky to have you in such company," Aragorn agreed.
She turned to glare at him. "Don't you start on me either," she warned, wagging her finger at him.
"The ale must have such effects on you that the moment you breathe it in, it affects your mind," Aragorn teased.
She debated on whether or not to dump the whole tankard on him, but her decision was abated when a loud thud and the sound of cheering distracted her. Moving forward, they both saw that Gimli had passed out cleanly onto the ground as Legolas looked around, his gaze finally settling on her. "I win," he said, a hint of triumph in his voice.
Buffy turned and tapped Aragorn on the shoulder. "Told you," she said, twisting her way back through the crowds as yet another contest was being debated. As she moved away, she became aware that she was being followed. She ditched the ale at the first available table. She still wasn't in the mood to drink, despite Aragorn's insistence that this was all one big happy party.
"To sneak off would not bode well," Éomer's voice came, sudden and deep, from behind her.
She started laughing as she turned around. "Who is sneaking off?" she asked, a teasing grin on her face. "Your men would be disappointed if they knew their King wasn't there to cheer them on."
"It is only a game," he said, moving a bit closer to her. She felt her body react strangely despite her wishes that she should hold herself together and continue to add the distance between them. That obviously was her mind talking, because her heart had started to beat rather rhythmically in her chest. Or, at least, this was the first time she'd heard it. Maybe Aragorn was right and she was intoxicated from inhaling the fumes from the ale.
"What would you call this?" she heard her voice asking. "Is this just some kind of game?"
At least her heart had stopped pounding. She saw the look on his face change to one of confusion before he straightened, halting his progress. "Nay," he said at last, his dark eyes taking her in, "but is this what you see it as?"
"No," she admitted. Now she felt stupid. Everyone was telling her that this man actually cared about her as a woman and not as some prized fighter and she was accusing him of playing games. "I just had to be sure."
It was wrong. She knew it. But she couldn't help it. She'd only been here a short period of time and she knew what it was like to be distanced from people who cared about her and loved her. She wanted a bit of that back, which was probably what this was…, right? Or was it something else entirely?
He was looking lost again. He obviously was new at this, she thought. Taking a brave step forward, she smiled up at him. "Don't look so surprised," she said quietly. Raising his gaze to meet hers, she felt that familiar shiver again slipping down her spine. The distance seemed to close between them and soon she felt all resolve go out whatever window she was hiding behind. It was only when they heard the sound of an explosion did the world revolve again.
"Will you walk with me?" he asked. She watched as he held out his hand to her and she felt her own hand take his, grasping his fingers a little harder than necessary.
"O… Okay," she said, and they set off, walking away from the commotion and back towards the tents.
"I have sent word to Éowyn of your recovery," he said after a few moments. She turned to look at him in the darkness, her hazel eyes reflecting the distant light. "I know she will be pleased to hear of it. I do not know how she must have felt with her people leaving her in the care of an ill steward and going back to battle."
"She was fine with it when I asked her," Buffy said.
"You asked her of it?" he asked in disbelief.
She nodded. "See, where I come from, it's polite to ask people whether they mind being left behind or else getting thrown out." Her face took on a very bitter look, yet it quickly dissipated.
"There is something you are not telling me," he said, reading her face carefully.
"Is it that obvious?" she asked with a sigh, and then turned to look at him. "I've been stabbed in the back before by people I thought I could trust. I've saved their lives countless times and when it mattered, when it really mattered, they told me to leave."
"Do you fear that this fate will be what becomes of you?" he asked, feeling her release his hand and move away into the darkness.
"I'm not afraid of a great many things," she admitted after a moment, her eyes taking in the many stars glistening above. "I'm not scared of death, or of being hurt or of suffering. I am scared of watching my friends die. I fear their pain and not my own."
"You have not overcome your own fear," he said from behind her. "You only show that you put the cares of others before your own."
"I don't want it to happen again," she said. "I've been through this before. I can't do this again. Even if this is my last chance, which I know it likely is… it's just too much."
"I will not pretend to make promises that I will not be likely to keep in the future," he said, coming up behind her, "but I will promise that I will never turn against you as those you claim have done. It is far too cruel a method of attrition, and you are not deserving of such."
That was something he could promise, she thought wryly. He could attack her now and drive her through a few dozen times and it still wouldn't hurt as much as losing her friends in that one moment had hurt. "I believe you," she said, turning around to face him.
He seemed to like that answer as they eyed one another in the darkness for a moment. Finally, he held out his arm again. "Come," he said, "I will escort you back to your tent."
"I don't need an escort," she said sharply, taking a step away from him. Seeing the look on his face, she realized quickly that his feelings had been hurt. Forcing a smile on her face, she realized that he had no idea how to court and though she was hardly an expert, the knowledge that she had just insulted his gentlemanly behavior was… something she never would have expected to deal with here. Then again, she thought to herself as she shrugged and lifted an arm to signal him to move forward and followed behind him. They had shared more than one little embrace now, she thought with a slight blush creeping up her neck. She would gladly give something for a few more of those, she thought, bringing her fingers to her lips and smiling ruefully. Okay, so the thought of being attractive as a female was starting to appeal to her a little more than she would have expected. But, then again, why not? She was a hottie, or so she had been told by nearly every male she had ever had a romantic tryst with. Even Riley had complimented her once or twice. Despite the fact she was bruised, battered, had been driven through, stabbed and pierced with poisoned arrows, she was still pretty. That thought gave her pride.
They continued to walk, drawing the attention of more than a few people. Gandalf, for one, looked somewhat bemused at this. Buffy loved nothing more than the prospect of running over, relieving him of his staff, and smashing it across that smug smile of his. Rolling her eyes comically, she turned to see that, once again, she had presented herself as the center of attention. As someone who had been so clearly in the center of demonic attention, to be standing here in the middle of hundreds, if not thousands of prying eyes with a King in a rather compromising position with his arm holding hers just like so… well… she was feeling sorely tempted to kick a lot of asses in that moment. And yet, she thought to herself, these people had been fighting for most of their lives in the world of darkness. It was about time they saw something they could smile about, even if it was just a King with his counsel, walking rather close together as though sharing some inane secret.
Smiling, she tugged his arm and turned him around so that his back was facing his people. "It appears that you are under your public's eye," she told him, a glint sparkling in her eye.
His hand reached up to press his hand over that wry smile and she found herself fighting against the move. It was far too bold for a man so unaccustomed to dating. She would have thought his dream date would have been a buggy ride through the countryside. But, if he wanted to play rough, that was how she enjoyed it the most, she thought, smirking as his hand was wiped away with a swipe from her own arm. "Was that your polite way of shutting me up?" she asked, watching his eyes narrow before charging on, "Because it wasn't very—"
Being cut off wasn't the most polite thing ever, she thought as she found herself swept into another embrace that sent her mind spinning again. But, of all the ways to be interrupted, this was far from the worst. And the sounds of cheering, laughing and voices hooting in the background were only slightly distracting.
x-x-x
There was a great roar from the fields the next day. Buffy found herself lounging in her tent, relaxing and sleeping in intermittent times. She found it easy to sleep when it was warm, the wind was carrying with it the scents of relaxing lavender and chamomile and the sun was kept well-hidden behind the many trees around the tents. She opened one eye at the sound and quickly went to her feet. She was not the only one peering from underneath the flap of their tent.
There were two figures she could see, moving with Gandalf towards the great throne. Wrapping her cloak about her, she stepped away from the trees and crept over to where two Hobbits were being hailed. She felt a smile grace her features as the men praised them.
So, at last, she thought, wandering amidst the eager soldiers. These must be the two lost little Hobbits, the one their suicide mission was supposed to help. Sam and Frodo, she thought they had been named. Before she could speak, however, there was more praising and Aragorn, in his true fashion, began singing. And he kept singing. At last, when she saw the sun dip far below the trees to the west, she felt a yawn come but smothered it. Before she could break away from the group, however, which meant that after nearly six hours of standing and listening to Aragorn sing of a story, she found herself being moved backwards. She had been invited to the main tent, Ioreth told her solemnly. The King of Rohan wished for her to be there.
It was a great excuse, she thought to herself.
But the song and tale had her wrapped up in a bit of excitement of two young Hobbits daring to believe that they were more than just the smallest creatures. Every single person, no matter how small, could change the world. And, at last, when these two were finally introduced to her, she found herself smiling. "Hi," she said, reaching out her hand. Both Samwise and Frodo looked startled, but Sam quickly came forward to take her hand.
"Why, hello there Miss!" he said, smiling widely up at her.
"I'm Buffy," she said, returning the smile and glancing over at Frodo. "And I bet you're Frodo, right? And you're Sam?"
They both nodded. At that time, Gandalf came to usher them into seats and gave her a long-suffering look, as though she had held up dinner. The Prince, the Rohirric King and Aragorn were the last to enter and behind them were two Halflings dressed in their suited armor for the duration of the meal. She smiled wistfully at the friendship easily shared between the four Hobbits and longed for that companionship again. Oh, she'd had it with Willow and Xander forever, and it was likely she would never feel anything of the sorts again. Her smile faltered as she looked away, but not before the King of Rohan caught her sad expression and resigned himself to attempt to talk her from her reverie. However, before he could begin, Gandalf politely interjected and the meal was served.
It really was a delicious dinner, Buffy thought as she ate from her plate, laughing easily at the tales told and watching the companions speak of such great things. Aragorn was easily settling into his role as a King. Éomer was far more settled than Aragorn and although his thoughts didn't turn far from horses, Rohan or battle, he was inclined to join the conversation, his clear tones ringing and prominent. Buffy marveled how she could pick his voice from an entire crowd of them and sighed, dropping her chin upon her fist and just enjoying the company for once. She wasn't about to be shipped off to war, so this was about as peaceful as it was going to get, to start, she thought dryly.
Soon the others began drifting away. Gimli and Legolas, who had joined them for their dinner, were amongst the first to leave. Buffy found herself staring after the Elf without a trace of regret and soon found herself rethinking about the lack of companionship in this world. She had had it all along. She had just been searching for it in all the wrong places.
The Captains of Rohan remained long after with their King to arrange a departing time. It was decided that the King was to return to Edoras soon after their journey to Minas Tirith because they had much to do for Rohan. Buffy found herself falling asleep on her fist, but was gently pushed awake by Elfhelm. She glared at the older Marshal as he swept off into the darkness. Éomer was the last left behind and for this, she felt somewhat awkward. But he just rose and nodded to her before beginning to depart. Finally finding her voice, she called out for him and soon joined him in the cool darkness.
It was almost easy to talk to someone who didn't know her entire past. She was willing to share herself though. She had been willing to all along. These people couldn't judge her after the mess they had put themselves in. She was going to do it slowly, though. She trusted this King as she had found herself oddly attracted to him and was willing to let him see her for who she truly was.
It was only when the deep twilight was settling in did she see the two young Hobbits returning to the bank of tents. She called out to them and they turned to her.
She was surprised when Samwise admitted that Gandalf had told them about her. "He knows that you have things to hold to yourself," he said quietly, gesturing. "It was only fair we know who you were."
"You don't know everything," she said darkly, but could easily forgive Gandalf for wanting to protect her. But she was slightly annoyed by the fact that the old Wizard couldn't see that she was easily capable of protecting herself. Even as they bid goodnight, she called them back. "I know your story has been told again and again and again, but I would really like to hear it from the two of you."
They both looked amazed at her request. Gandalf had said that she was a being capable of a great many things and was very powerful. She wasn't powerful in ethereality like the Elves, but she was powerful enough by her own right.
"If you tell me yours, I'll tell you mine," she offered, a slight smile on her face. The thought of teaching these Halflings about vampires and other forces of darkness wasn't at all appealing, but hearing of a journey of a life-and-death struggle for something other than her own soul was extremely appealing. Still, they remained silent. "Look, I know something about being heroes. We all appreciate what you did out there. But I've seen things you can't begin to imagine, just like I know you've seen things I won't ever know about. What you did out there… I don't think you realize… I've seen great minds destroyed by darkness… and knowing that you survived… well…"
"Speak no more," Frodo said, lifting up his hand. Buffy saw that his hand only had four remaining fingers and felt her lips twist ironically. "I would be happy to tell you our story. Sam here can help, as he was there by my side."
Buffy blinked as she glanced at Sam's open face. "I guess we have more in common than I thought," she managed to get out.
Exchanging another look, Frodo and Sam led Buffy near the trees overlooking the distant river. Above them, the stars were bright and shining, especially the star that had been described to her as being one of the two Simarils from the First Age. The air was crisp and cool, perfect for a night to tell a story. She found herself leaning against a tree, shaking off any feeling of sleep as they began to try and find the right words.
And, at last, they began to tell their story.
x-x-x
In the next chapter, one King prepares to retake his throne, while another prepares the long road home.
I just had to add this little note… I am debating a break after this current chapter because I am about to take a small trip for a wedding soon, but the wedding is in Spain. I know I will not have internet access, so I won't bother bringing a disc or anything along, but I do know that with the rest of the traveling involved, including a family reunion, it will be several weeks, up to a month.