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: Five chapters remain… I really hope you have enjoyed the trip as we come upon our journey's end.
Dreamzone – Well, good news travels slower at times. Rohan did get attacked more than once. It was ambushed by both Saruman and Sauron, the only real estate to get a kiss by both demons. They do not yet know that their King is dead, or if they do, they remember Théoden as the man who nearly let Rohan fall except when Aragorn bailed him out at Helm's Deep. I always felt that Éomer returned back to Edoras and Rohan to set the record straight – to prove that Rohan still has a bit of pride left within Her. Buffy just has to prove herself a little more… in other words, it's time for her to prove that she's still got some spunk left. All of this rather sudden romance couldn't have just washed her out, right?
S.mary – I am sorry to disappoint, but it had to be done. What kind of writer would I be if I said "happily ever after… blah blah" so close to the end? They will get their happy ending. They just have to cross a few more roads to get there. And I am really glad you are enjoying this story… it has been a gem for us to write (and re-write, and re-write…)
XinnLajgin – Uh-oh. Dare I ask what those words meant? I'm not even sure what language that was… oh, dear. I really hope that wasn't a slander to this story. Harry Potter did disappoint for once, but after reading the latest Entertainment Weekly section, I am convinced otherwise. Two more years is a very small price to pay for the end of an era. I am glad you enjoyed the chapter, though. It was a hard one to write and an even harder one to edit, especially after reading something that was far less happy than this.
Nikki – why, thank you. And, she will get her happy ending. I can promise you that.
gregdoreza – now that was one heck of a compliment. For someone who barely watched the show, I really do appreciate it.
Sparky24 – No, I couldn't give them anything like that. It would have been far too easy. As for the homecoming to Rohan, Rohan has been inundated with their weak King and attacks from both east and west. This is a people who has seen nothing but war and their greatest ally, Gondor, could do nothing to help because not only was their Steward a weak man, but he had to look to his own borders as well. Rohan finally has the chance for strong leadership, and they are about to see that there is more than just one person they can count on.
General Mac – my, my… you expect Buffy to get into the action? How scandalous of you… but, yet… I won't say what is to come, but you may get what you ask for a lot sooner than you think.
Sukera – thank you!
Aither – I just find it hard to believe that a man will trust his hormones so suddenly. He is attracted to a said woman, but all of his life was spent in the fields with horses. Obviously things are going to get awkward. Buffy just survived one hell of a last stand and right now she's like a leaf floating in the wind. Éomer has given her everything she needs, but now she's about to find out that it won't be enough to satisfy her. What type of "Queen" would she be if all she did was be a token queen, one without love or respect for all people who had been hurt by this war? He knows nothing of love and she knows nothing of freedom and duty, and yet when they begin to "get it", things will simply fall into place. This chapter is pivotal in this role. As someone who has experienced all of this love and more, I am truly touched you find my romance skills to be as keen. I usually quail under the ability to even write a love scene. And yet this story just sort of clicked together at the end. I really do hope you enjoy the end of this story.
Evilelvengoddess – Éothain was introduced back in Chapter 3… he's a rider under Éomer. He was also one that didn't really trust Buffy. I haven't used him since, but felt that I could generally add a name back into the story. In the movies, of course, he played a young boy sentenced to make the last stand at Helm's Deep.
Chapter Summary: Buffy struggles through life in Rohan as Éowyn begins to say goodbye to her only home.
Chapter Warning: I have very few reservations about this chapter, but only because it took a very long time to write. It is one of the best chapters I think Katrina has ever written.
x-x-x
Chapter 26
Their Darkest Hour
By Katrina Claire
x-x-x
Of the long line of riders that set out from Edoras, very few cracked a smile during their first hours away from the capital city. Buffy rode amongst the first riders and as they continued down the hill and into the plains, she could certainly see why Éowyn would christen this place a graveyard. There seemed to be a fog that clung to the houses on the tall hill, spreading like a vast cloud of doom before them. It was certainly going to make their job harder, Buffy thought, her eyes narrowed as she coaxed Sador through the mist.
Even their welcome celebration had been dank. Éomer had just accepted his golden goblet from Éowyn and held it for a moment in silence. The other soldiers lifted their cups to their King before Éomer finally overturned his cup onto the floor, declared that the war was over and said little else. Buffy had bailed after dinner had begun. She reckoned no one would miss her.
She was partially right. Éowyn, bound by her royal blood, was forced to endure more than four hours of silence and dark words. There was no celebration in the air, for few in this Hall had much to celebrate. By the time it was over, she made her way back to her room at Meduseld, but froze before entry. She had something on her mind and she wished to speak it ere she slept. She slid along the hallway, pausing outside one of the doors. Lifting her hand, she knocked gently. There was no sound on the other side. Gently pushing the door in, she slipped into the room and sealed the heavy door behind her, moving the iron rod to lock the door into position.
Inside was an old, dusty bedroom that had once belonged to her mother. There was little light as it was very dark outside and there was no light emanating from the room except for the faint slip of light from beneath the doorway. She moved to the fireplace, bent down and quickly built a small fire. Once the room was filled with the warm light, she brushed her hands against her gown and glanced around. It had been many years since she had come to this room. She heard the haunting sounds of laughter of three excited children as they ran up the narrow, curving staircase to the loft above, leaping down into the bales of hay that once lined the wooden floor where she now stood. Moving to the bed that had been placed there since her cousin's death, she sat down and relaxed against the coarse blanket. As though they were ghosts running through time, she saw the two little boys and her own tiny frame flying up the stairs, laughing about who would be able to reach the bottom first. Éowyn smiled and felt her lips move with the ghost girl's, speaking "A girl is always able to go first". The girl stunned both boys by lifting herself over the rail and flinging her small body into the hay below. As the mirage vanished, Éowyn was aware that something wet had trickled down her cheek. Lifting her fingers, she brushed her tears away.
It hadn't hit her yet that she would be leaving this house for the rest of her life. This was the house of her Fathers. Éomer was standing on his own here and he needed someone to stand beside him. What sort of person was she that she could no longer hold such a responsibility? She suddenly felt chilled as though the warmth had left the room. Standing, she turned to the dying fire and strode from the room, setting the iron peg aside and walking out.
Buffy knew Éowyn was upset the next morning at breakfast. King Éomer chose to dine within his royal bedchamber. Buffy was hardly disappointed. Since she had agreed to keep her distance from the King, she had been avoiding him. Even though two days had already passed, she knew that it would be a lot easier once she was out of Meduseld and far away from Edoras. So when one of the Marshals asked for someone to attend to the west, Buffy didn't hesitate to volunteer. After all, she had spent the most time there. Helm's Deep and the road to Isengard had been heavy on her mind, but she was willing to do what it took to help restore order.
Unfortunately for her, Éowyn was slow to agree. "This is madness!" she cried, marching after Buffy once the younger woman had left the dining hall to return to her room to see to her armor. "Even the heartiest Captain would hesitate to undertake such a chore!"
"Then maybe that hearty Captain will thank me later," Buffy said in an even voice, turning to the taller woman.
"But surely you must—"
"I'm not going to sit here and pine away for something that may never happen," Buffy retorted, her hands flying to her hips, the one telltale sign that she was irritated. "I need to do this, Éowyn. You told me that the people don't know who I am. What kind of Marshal would I be if I didn't at least try?"
Éowyn knew how much Éomer would hurt her if he knew that the woman he cared for had gone off into the tarnished west. "There must be another way," she said softly.
"You've got two minutes to tell me," Buffy replied as they reached her room and she ducked inside, moving around the cramped quarters. "Besides… I'm not doing any good just sitting here waiting for something to happen."
"Éomer would never forgive me if something were to happen to you," Éowyn choked out. Buffy turned to look at her, frowning slightly. "Going to the west, which has been attacked far longer by the treachery of Saruman and the Orcs from the Misty Mountains…"
"It's dangerous," Buffy surmised, finding her chain mail and quickly tossing it on her bed along with a variety of daggers and her relished sword. "I get that. And I'm not doing this for the great King Éomer," she added. "I'm doing it for me."
"Your death will serve no purpose except to quell your support," Éowyn said under her breath. "Please, I beg you."
"I'm sorry," Buffy said, her arms full of her armor now as she turned to look at Éowyn over a teetering pair of boots. "How can you ask me to stay when everything I fought so hard to protect doesn't even know I exist?"
Éowyn slowly shook her head. She knew she wanted to explain that she was afraid of being left behind and that she didn't want to spend her last days in Edoras alone. She could only stand aside as Buffy rushed past her. Now someone had to tell Éomer. She just wished it didn't always have to be her.
By the time she caught up with the Slayer, she and the Marshal along with only a handful of other soldiers were gearing their horses. Buffy was already in her full-body armor and Sador was adorned with her leather saddle and the vast array of weapons Buffy liked to carry. Turning, she caught Éowyn's eye and forced a smile onto her face, which Éowyn could not find the heart to return. Taking this as an ominous omen, Buffy gently steered Sador from the stables and took to the open air, the other riders following quickly. Éowyn watched them go, her heart plummeting in her stomach. She knew that it was a great weakness that she could not speak the truth.
Éomer eventually did emerge from his chambers, looking ill-tempered and quite frightening with his deep scowl and his harsh words. Éowyn hung back, even after Éomer had called for her. When she finally came before him, he announced to her that he was headed east. The night before, he spoke, he had given assignments to the other Marshals. She noticed that he never spoke of Buffy, and when she tentatively asked him of it, he announced that she would watch over Edoras for the time being. There was a great air that he didn't want to place her in any danger. Éowyn swallowed the truth and watched as her brother rode off in the opposite direction, desperately wishing she could have told him. Once again, she was alone, standing on the great precipice, the wind sweeping her hair straight from her shoulders.
The ride west hadn't been as dark as Buffy would have hoped. Though there were only a half-dozen of them riding, the men fell into long discussions about a planting season and the season for foals. It took Buffy a few paces to realize they were talking about baby horses. Shrugging off their teasing laughter, they continued on until they came across the first sign that a village had once existed here. Obviously someone had returned to gather the bodies and burn them in one heaping pile. The stench was mostly unbearable as Buffy quickly checked the scattered skeletal remains. It was a disgusting job yet she took it in stride, while the others carefully checked over the burnt-out shells of homes and farmsteads. Everything was twisted in one black heap. Even the earth smelled of death. Lifting her gaze, she saw that the haze clung over their heads, as though protecting this town from the lifesaving sun on the other side. Standing, she kicked a bit of burnt wagon aside and returned to Sador, who seemed keen to leave this former civilization at once.
As they continued on, they passed more and more villages. There was one in which the decomposing remains of both humans and animals had been left helter-skelter around the grassy mounds. Either it meant that the people hadn't yet returned to cremate their dead or else there were none alive from this village that lived to do so. Buffy felt a flashback to burying Potentials as they quietly dug a grave and gently lifted the bodies and laid them within the dirty walls. Once they had burnt the remains – Buffy holding her hand over her nose and mouth the entire time to keep herself from retching – they continued on towards Helm's Deep.
The Keep was filled with many survivors who peered warily over the battle-weary walls. Once they had spent a few hours counting the survivors and their rations, the Marshal returned to one of the upper rooms where Buffy had been resting after their first action-packed days in the plains.
"My lady," he said, knocking on the doorway and bowing his head at the same time.
"Yes?" she asked, turning to face him. Though she had seen nothing but death and destruction these past few days, it hadn't seemed to faze her. Even burying the dead and burning their remains hadn't even caused her to blink, much less run away screaming in terror. The way she had remained rooted to her spot, unwilling to yield until their task was over had convinced the Marshal that this was one woman he could count on.
"I am leaving the other men to tend to the needs here," he explained, entering her room and sealing the door behind him. "I am heading north and I wish for you to go with me."
It was a simple request she knew. But there was something foreboding in the man's tone. "What's up north?" she asked lightly.
"In the north remains a desperate situation," he explained. He had no wish to frighten her, but seeing the resolve on his face seemed to slacken his own determination to withhold the truth. "There is little food and water and many remain hopeless for they know their old life has gone. Many have died and more will die unless we can do—"
"And we will," Buffy said, cutting into his explanation with a sharp retort. The Marshal closed his mouth and watched her eyes blaze over. There was a hard look on her face and she turned away from him again. "We'll do whatever it takes. I'm not going to let him down." By him, the Marshal knew she spoke of the King. "This is what we have been chosen to do."
"Only you can speak of being chosen," the Marshal replied bitterly. "I was appointed."
"You were chosen," she said, turning to him and smiling. "Have you seen your family?"
"My family? They are well in Edoras and have been given the best of provisions and—"
"Then you know what we have to face," she said, turning from the window and stepping towards him. "I've never seen anything like this before. I watched this place explode and it doesn't seem real. But these people are. They don't know anything about what's happened except that they have paid again and again for the incompetence of their former King." Before the Marshal could interject, she held up a hand and adopted a soothing tone. "I know you cared for Théoden. I wouldn't be here if I didn't myself. But these people suffered his foolishness the most and until they have someone they can count on, they will be a threat to the security of a new Rohan."
"They will never have the lives they once had," the Marshal argued.
"No," Buffy said, a gentleness curving her lips. "But maybe they can find it within themselves to fight for a new one."
"What can you offer them… food, water, shelter?"
"Hope."
There was that word again. It had seemed to forsake these lands. There was no hope left. There was nothing there, nothing tangible to even hold onto. And here was this woman, an outsider, willing to fight for what did not exist.
He let out a loud scoff, which seemed to surprise her. "I think you will find that hope is the one thing these people do not have."
"You mean, they don't have it yet," she replied, smiling again.
Where in Arda did she get these ideas from? "Did you wish to hunt down the Orcs that have scattered to the mountains and slaughter them before the survivors?" he asked.
She stared at him a moment before she shook her head, bringing up her hand to cover her mouth. From where he stood, he could hear her snickering. "You have a lot to learn about morale," she finally said with a heavy sigh. "No… what was the first thing you learned about planting?"
"The soil needs to be well irrigated and fertilized," he replied automatically, his forefathers coming from the distant farmlands to the east.
"There's an old tale from my world that says something about ash and soot being the best thing to help do something-or-other to the soil," she said in a matter-of-fact way, lifting up a hand and showing him the few specks of ash on the dusty palm. "There was a lot of this left back there." She didn't dare say that this 'old tale' was nothing more than a warning that Willow had printed up of things not to do... such as use ashes from cremations to plant houseplants.
The man balked at the ashes and quickly slapped her hand away. "Are you mad? Do you actually wish to use our dead to plant anew?"
"What greater honor is there?" she asked, her tone adopting a decisive snap. "Their deaths don't have to be mourned until you can't cry anymore. Everything has to have a purpose… even the land and things that are part of it." A sudden smile fell across her face. "A friend taught me that once… that the earth can be our greatest power. And it's not just the dead… it's the wood and the grass and the houses and the goats and whatever else you people had in your villages."
"I certainly hope your friend could gather the ashes of the dead to use for growing things," the Marshal sighed.
"What choice do we have?" she asked sharply. "You said people are starving. I'm offering a way to actually grow stuff so they don't start gnawing on each other. Unless you want to be known as the race of carnivores and I'm really hoping you're not one of those ugly Uruk things, this is how we have to start."
"By growing our dead?"
She shook her head, rolled her eyes, and stomped past him, bursting out the door. A few curious bystanders quickly backed away, seeing the look on her face. "If you have a better idea, I'm listening. If not, well… I'll see you on your horse in one hour."
King Éomer was going to have to compensate him greatly for this, he thought heavily as he followed her out the door, the heavy object slamming behind him. Whatever plan was brewing in her mind, he hoped it would work: they were running out of time.
x-x-x
"My Lady Éowyn?"
"Yes?"
Éowyn turned from her position in the forbidden room to see a young hand standing in the doorway. "There are horses approaching, my Lady. They carry a banner unlike any I have ever seen."
Éowyn set her scrolls aside and rose to her feet. In the distance, she could hear a horn. She couldn't decipher it, but she definitely knew it wasn't foe. "Tell the guards at the gate to let them in. And send word to the King. He was to arrive back this eve."
"Yes, Lady," the hand said and closed the door on his way out. Éowyn glanced around the room, which she had been adding a few personal touches to. For one, the scrolls were once long letters written from her mother to her father. She enjoyed reading them when she was younger, but now they touched her in a far different way. Her mother had loved her father very much and in every stroke of the quill she saw the adoration that she had once held. It was how Éowyn often felt about Faramir and only wished they could keep such correspondence. She missed him and it was beginning to show. For the past few days, she had smiled seldom and had been keeping to this room. When she had received word that morning that Éomer was returning from a successful ride to the east, she felt her heart start to pound. Soon the truth would be out that his faithful advisor had gone to the west and they had yet to hear from any of those soldiers.
She quickly smoothed her gown and her hair before making her way to the back doors and sweeping onto the veranda to look at the delegation now making its way through the streets of Edoras. This time she heard the horn and smiled. These were the fairest and most beautiful beings of them all. These were the Elves.
Éowyn moved through Meduseld until she reached the front doors and quickly stepped outside to greet these beings. She was not surprised to see that Elladan and Elrohir were dismounting first and quickly approached her. "Lady of Rohan," Elladan said, inclining his head. "We bid you welcome the house of Elrond."
A taller figure in the back atop a grey horse nodded slightly, as though approving this rather formal greeting.
"Welcome from the house of my fathers," Éowyn said, finding that a rare smile had graced her pale face. "I will grant you rest and stores if you will remain in Edoras until morning. The King is expected to return ere nightfall."
"What of Merilin?" Elrohir asked, a deep curiosity in his voice.
"She is known to us as Buffy," Éowyn replied in a stiff tone. "She is on an errand. She will return when her task is complete."
"You must forgive my brothers," said a soft, fruity tone as a third figure stepped forward on a smaller horse. Lifting a veil of a deep shade of lavender, she turned grey eyes to Éowyn and smiled. And Éowyn was finally able to meet her once-rival in Aragorn's affections. "Their lack of manners not forthcoming, we will greatly accept rest and provisions, if you will provide them."
"I shall," Éowyn said, and as Arwen nodded and turned, beckoning another rider forward.
"The house of Elrond thanks you," said a deep masculine voice, one that could only come from Elrond himself. Éowyn felt a slight flush come to her cheeks and this time, she was the one who bowed her head as the great Elven lord laid his eyes upon her. "Your hospitality is most welcome." Turning, he signaled to Elrohir, who lifted his fair arm and others rode forward, dismounted, and began filing past Éowyn, one by one, into Meduseld. At last, only Elrond and Arwen remained.
Elrond gave his daughter a knowing smile before sweeping indoors, leaving only a scattering of Elvish horses and bewildered stable hands behind.
"Where is your final destination?" Éowyn asked as the guards secured the door. Both women turned to walk towards a warm pit of fire, where Arwen extended her hands. Éowyn took notice for the first time that they were bruised and tarnished.
There was a pause, and then "Minas Tirith," she said quietly. "We have come to welcome a King."
"And you shall," Éowyn said, glancing at her own white, unblemished hands. "You can stay as long as you need."
"There are many who would envy your position to hold court over so many Eldar," Arwen said, smiling. "Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel have passed into your halls and you barely took notice."
"I have never seen them," Éowyn said honestly. "Buffy once spoke of meeting them."
There was another long pause, and then, "I must meet her when the time is right," Arwen said, gently removing her long traveling cloak, revealing a multi-layered gown made from the finest materials in the most perfect shade of violet.
Éowyn had the household staff prepare a large feast for the Elvish guests, which included the finest fruits, vegetables and a roasted swine. They had just sat down for dinner when a hand arrived to tell her that the King had returned and was calling for both her and Buffy. She excused herself and left quickly. Éomer met her in the front hall, looking quite pleased to see her. "It seems that we have guests," he said curtly.
"Yes, I know," Éowyn said dryly, massaging her temples. "The Lady Arwen has arrived and with her she has brought her escort."
Éomer wore a knowing smile. "Buffy has felt the same way about the Elves, calling them pointy-eared brown-nosers."
Éowyn couldn't help but smile. "She has a way with them," she mused quietly.
"Where is she?" Éomer asked, glancing around the dim hallway. "I have missed her and wished for her company at this late hour."
Éowyn was slightly surprised by this. He had only been gone for a little over a week… he surely missed his Counsel after such a short time? "She is not here," she said, opting to finally tell him the truth.
Éomer looked puzzled as he glanced at Éowyn. "Where is she?" he asked quietly, though his voice suggested his impatience. "Was she not to guard Meduseld and the halls within?"
"You never gave her a task to see to," Éowyn reminded him. "It is my thought that you refused to let her work, keeping her under your guard as well as the guard of others. She has taken your insolence and has gone into the west."
Éomer's look changed from exhaustion to anger in less than a second. His jaw tightened as he turned on his sister. "What say you?"
"She took to the west with your Third Marshal," Éowyn replied in a level tone. "They rode the morn you left for the Eastfold. You cannot deny her the freedoms you so promised," she continued, watching as he began to pace back and forth. "Her loyalty to you has a price."
"Never would I ask her to pay for it," Éomer growled.
"You may not have intentionally asked her to pay," Éowyn snapped.
"She has nothing to prove to me," Éomer exclaimed, his voice echoing in the hallway about them. "She has given me all I have asked of her. She has denied me nothing. What else has she to prove?"
"She may have little to prove to you, brother," Éowyn explained, dropping her voice as she saw that there were people huddled in the shadows away from their rising voices. "But that does not mean she has nothing to prove to the people. She does this not for you, but for herself solely."
Éomer paused, looking rather distraught. "I would not have asked her to do such a thing," he admitted.
"She knew that," Éowyn consoled him. "But how can she love you when none know her deeds? How can she belong to a land that calls her stranger? And how dare you deny a woman of her power from helping the country, the land you love? What kind of love would that be?"
"I must go to her," Éomer said, starting out at once. "I will summon my men. We will leave at dawn."
"Nay," Éowyn replied. Éomer turned to look at her, surprised. "You must leave her to this task. This is their darkest hour, brother. If their King were to charge and doubt the loyalty of one he holds most dear, what else have they left?"
"I understand," Éomer said darkly. "But I will not leave her to perish in the west like some untamed horseman."
"In case you have forgotten," Éowyn said with a smile, "she is hardly powerless."
Éomer smiled then, though it was barely recognizable in the dim light. "Our guests," he replied at last, "are waiting."
Éowyn nodded and gestured towards the great dining hall. Éomer set off at once. Inside, the Elves rose and stared at him. He nodded and took his seat at the head of the table, very near the lady Galadriel whom he had insulted months before. He gave her a curt look before taking his meal. He barely ate three bites before he stood and left again. Apparently the thought of dining with a group of taller, fairer beings was not appetizing to him.
And Éowyn blamed him not one bit. She began to choke out a hasty explanation for her brother's departure, but before she could even think of one, Elladan spoke up. "He misses the one whom he loves."
Éowyn snapped her jaw shut and turned to regard the Elf coolly. "I reckon you speak of his land," she said in a woolly tone, stabbing her peapod with a fork.
"No," Elrohir said, the wisdom showing far beyond his years. "My brother speaks of the one you call Buffy. Perhaps your people are as blind as the rest of this world seems. Did you not see how he kept glancing to his left, as though hoping his great advisor were by his side? As a growing young man, he needs his provisions," the Elf continued, gesturing towards the still-loaded table, groaning beneath six different dishes. "As he seemed to have neither, the only conclusion would be that he is missing what he no longer possesses."
This word sent a chill down Éowyn's spine. Not only did Elladan insinuate that Éomer loved Buffy, but his twin was suggesting that Éomer was missing something he didn't have anymore. Swallowing hard, Éowyn reached for her goblet, held it up silently, and downed every last drop of wine. For some reason, she seemed to need it now, more than ever.
x-x-x
"Is this it?"
Buffy glanced up from a large pile of smelly ashes that had been unceremoniously piled in a tiny wagon. Tiny flies swarmed around the remains and Buffy waved a hand in front of her nose. In a smaller wagon next to it were the remains of rock-hard bread and potatoes that looked months past their prime. And yet these were the only provisions that Helm's Deep had allowed.
"We must go," the Marshal said, riding up to her at once. Buffy turned from the two young men who had brought her the two wagons and nodded, quickly mounting Sador, who moved quickly ahead as to get away from the foul-smelling dirt. "There is unrest to the north. We must hurry, for word has spoken that a few have already died."
"Let's go," she said, before turning to the two young boys driving the wagons with what looked like tiny donkeys. "Stay behind. If you need help, ask for the soldiers from the Keep. They'll help you if you ask for it." Turning, she sped off after the Marshal, who had set off at a canter.
It took them only a day's long ride to reach the first settlement. Their first hint had been the billowing black smoke from the burning tents. There were only a few hundred people dressed in barely-habitable clothing but the rest were undressed save for worn rags covering their most private areas. They were gathered near what appeared to be the center of their village as two young men circled one another. One carried a bloodied sword, the other a large hand-made club. They were both speaking a language Buffy didn't know, but she knew enough of their body language that she was needed immediately. Before the Marshal could decipher the situation, Buffy was dismounting Sador and launching herself into the crowd.
"Hey!" she shouted, only to be pushed back by the angry mob. "Hey… stop that! Quit it! STOP!"
At her last command, there was dead silence as hundreds of pairs of eyes turned to look at the young woman bursting through two thick, burly men. She was wearing the signature armor of the Rohirrim and her hand was pressed at the hilt of her sword against her hip.
"What is this?" she asked in disgust, glancing at the few mauled bodies lying heaped in the center. The two men seemed to be moving around the few standalone figures. The entire scene was enough to make Buffy sick, but she refused to give up because of a weak stomach.
"Who are you, woman?" a cold voice asked. A tall man and a smaller woman had extracted themselves from the mob. The woman was gaunt, with a bony face and hands, two small children dragged behind her. The old man had a long, bushy red beard and long hair that was neatly gathered in a ponytail at his neck. They were both wearing rags that were so filthy and blood-matted that she couldn't tell where the material ended and their flesh began.
"A Rider of Rohan," Buffy replied. "I'm Buffy. And you are…?"
"What concern would a Rider have of the company of the west?" the woman hissed, her voice raspy, like a snake's venomous whisper.
"Would you rather not know the war is over?" Buffy asked haughtily. "The fighting is done, Sauron has lost, and Rohan is free."
"This is our freedom," the man bellowed, charging at her. She blinked, her hand circling her sword to draw it out dare he attack, but instead he collapsed at her feet, spilling the contents of his arms at her feet. She recoiled at the number of large, rubbery maggots now crawling on her well-worn boots. "This is what we have paid. Our blood whets this land and that is something no Rider can take away."
"You want me to take away your pain?" she asked, meeting his gaze. "It's easy. I can't." Turning, she saw the two men who had been fighting snarling at one another. "But I will say this. I can't take back what Saruman and his idiots have done to you. Only you can choose what comes next. If you want to kill each other, that's great. Be my guest and I won't waste my time. But if you're willing to actually work for a new Rohan… I'm the person that you want to know. And that's a promise."
"Your words have no meaning here," the woman said shrilly. "You cannot bring us hope."
"If you don't have hope, you have nothing left to hold onto," Buffy said calmly, meeting her eye. "And believe me when I say I know what that's like. All you have left is what's here." She lifted her hand to cover her heart. "Even then, you can't ever count on it. All you can do is your best. I'm willing to help you."
The Marshal, having claimed the two carts, rode up quickly, out of breath. "Lower your arms," he snapped, gesturing at the two men, who were still glowering at one another.
"You should listen to him before I have to get angry," Buffy said, turning her head slightly so the men behind her could hear her. When they didn't listen, she turned and a few seconds later a figure was lying on his back, the tip of her sword resting beneath his chin. "This isn't marginally how I can get," she said, pressing her foot harder down onto his chest. She heard his protruding ribs protest against the pressure from her foot, but she refused to give up. "If I let you go, do you promise you won't kill this man?"
"I promise you nothing," the man spat out, grinning at her. He had no teeth.
"I don't want to kill you," she said, her tone very level. "But you should realize that I killed a hell of a lot of Orcs and trolls in my time."
"She is rather good at it," the Marshal admitted. "You would be wise to listen."
"She will not kill," the man said, still grinning that silly toothless grin. "She does not have that power."
Buffy, while managing her stronghold over the struggling man beneath her foot and tip of her sword, brought out her dagger and flung it towards a pair of males. They leapt aside, glancing at the wiggling blade in horror. It was lodged an inch from their heads in a wooden beam from a billowing tent. "You don't even know me," she said in a low voice, turning back to the man before pulling her sword away. Gently moving her foot from his chest, she bent down, took his arm and dragged him upright. "If you use your sword again to attack this man, I will end you, and that's a promise." Turning, she sheathed her sword. "Now, what seems to be the problem?"
"We have no food or water, if you could not see," the woman said angrily, pushing the stunned man aside. "Our children are starving, we have little protection and the enemy has not left our doorstep. There have been nightly raids from the Wargs."
"We have brought what little provisions we could," the Marshal said, as the cart was wheeled up. Seeing the old legumes and potatoes inside, the people suddenly gasped. "And Buffy believes that with this nutritional soil you will be able to once again grow your own staples."
"But the water—" an older man begged through cracked, bleeding lips. "It has been poisoned by Saruman."
"Then we'll have to improvise," Buffy said, walking over to where the creek was dumping vast amounts of grayish water into a large pond. "Isengard is less than a day's ride." She turned towards the Marshal. "If the Ents are still stationed there, maybe they can help."
"You talk to trees, you carry knives," the woman said, waving an impatient hand, "but yet your words mean nothing."
"Where I come from, my word meant everything," Buffy said calmly. "And you have my promise that I won't leave here until I do what I can, as a Captain under King Éomer."
"A Captain he sent?" the red-haired man asked, stumbling towards her. "A Captain?"
"And a Marshal," Buffy said, turning to acknowledge the man still on horseback. "You should feel fortunate. But for now, let's spread this out before it dries."
"It has a foul stench," the woman muttered, backing away.
"I will help," came a small voice. Buffy watched as a familiar small girl stepped from a small crowd of children. Slowly, a few others came forward, as though frightened Buffy would fling knives at them, too. "How can I help?"
"Here," Buffy said, taking the small sack of rocks from the girl's outstretched hands and pulling her closer. "You're hurt."
"It is not as bad as it is," the girl said with extraordinary boldness, meeting Buffy's eyes. "I wish to help."
"As do we," a small boy said, gesturing to a few others.
"What would your parents have to say about this?" the Marshal asked, frowning.
"They're dead," the girl said sadly.
"They're orphans," a second woman spoke up, stepping forward. "There are a few in this village, but more to the west, nearest Isengard. Their parents were murdered before their very eyes, but we could only save so many."
"Of course," Buffy said, turning back to the group of about ten children, all who gazed at her with somewhat dazed expressions. "Well, here."
After the first few days, the food was now gone and the water, though still poisonous, was used to scrub as much as they could. The orphans' injuries were all taken care of, and more provisions soon came from the Keep, as did another group of soldiers under the Lieutenant who had served under Buffy's supervision during the Black Night. Their reunion was warm and friendly as they embraced as old friends, turning to see to the others. The young girl rarely left Buffy's side, always following with her, her left arm in a linen sling since her shoulder had been dislocated. The Marshal had volunteered to work on shelter, leaving Buffy to work on the many other problems. It was not easy work, and there were many fights and disagreements in the beginning. But by her second week, Buffy felt much more relaxed around these newest people. These people had lost more than everything, but she refused to let them lose their identity, which they had been very close to losing.
This was the closest thing they had to a second chance.
x-x-x
Éowyn had just closed the front doors when Éomer appeared out of the shadows. "It appears as though our guests have finally departed," he said in a dark voice.
Éowyn massaged her temples as she leant against the door. "They have left for Gondor, yes," she agreed, yawning slightly. "You should have been the one to say the fondest farewell."
"I have no need to be amongst those beings," Éomer said, sending a dark look at the door as though it too had insulted him.
Éowyn knew that he was worried about Buffy. It had been two weeks since Buffy had left and more, and there had been absolutely no word from any of the six soldiers that had gone into the west. "What have we left to prepare ere you return to Gondor?"
"I must summon all of Rohan to come to their lord's final resting place," Éomer replied stoutly. "I will leave in a few weeks' time to bring our fallen King and return him to his resting place."
"The Elves were adamant about seeing her," Éowyn said after a long pause. "They seemed to think she would rather enjoy traveling with them rather than spending time amongst her own."
"You know as well as I that we are not of her own," Éomer said in a soft tone. "I would never force that upon her."
"She believes so," Éowyn said. "You have forced nothing upon her."
"I do wish she was back," Éomer said, glancing around them, as though hoping she would just spring out of the woodwork. "I do miss her."
"She will return when she feels that she has done all she can," Éowyn said with a smile. "And songs of deeds will soon spread. Did you not hear those twin Elves singing of her glorious near-death in battle to those children last night?"
"I heard," Éomer said quietly. "It has made me believe that she is more than I thought she was. She has become more to me than a mere Counsel and my Captain."
"She is your Captain," Éowyn replied, her smile widening. "My brother, she will do anything for you. All you have to do is ask it of her."
"I cannot ask her to leave her duty," Éomer replied. "What sort of commander would I be? But that Elf spoke the truth of her great deeds. Word of her heroism will spread and many will accept that this stranger is now amongst her own. She belongs here."
"She belongs with you," Éowyn said, dropping her hand on Éomer's shoulder. "I only hope you realize it before she ne'er returns." Turning, she left the room, leaving her brother in stunned silence.
x-x-x
"I know that this is really unnecessary," Buffy said, brushing her grime-coated hands on her trousers, "but wouldn't this be better suited if planted at night?"
"Sunlight nourishes much of what we grow," said the young man, bending down to add another heaping pile of the foul-smelling dirt to her neat mound. "Have you no planters where you hail?"
"No," she said. She didn't know how to explain grocery stores or Wal-Mart or anything like that. All she could do was disagree and leave it at that. She felt exhausted as she rose to her feet, brushing a bit of smudged dirt onto her nose.
"My lady!"
It was the Lieutenant, flagging her down from near the outside of the village. She rose to her feet, beckoned the boy to continue on and made her way towards the soldier, who was breathing hard and gesturing wildly towards the outer hills. "What is it?" she asked, slightly annoyed.
"King Éomer rides for this village," he panted. "He has sent word that he wishes to speak with you!"
"Oh," she said, shrugging as she glanced back at the village. Little had changed since she had begun this project. There were others started and since this village seemed to have doubled in size, they had been working hard to sustain what they could. So far, using the ashes from the burnt villages to the east had proven fruitful. Their first few seedlings were starting to sprout.
"Buffy?" a small voice asked. A tiny hand tucked inside hers and pulled her slightly to the left. Turning, she saw the little girl, who called herself Elena, blinking at her.
"It's okay," she said, turning to pat the girl on the shoulder. Turning to the Lieutenant, she told him that she understood before he swept off. Buffy sighed and quickly began cleaning up in the bad water. As the ground thundered with the sounds of hooves, people quickly glanced up from their tasks and rose, gathering around the edge of the village as Éomer appeared, surrounded by his personal guard. Buffy stepped forward, Elena a few steps behind her. Turning, she gave the girl an encouraging smile before stepping forward.
Instead of the open hostility they had shown towards her and Éomer's Third Marshal, these people were now curious. Buffy had been ensuring them over and over again that Éomer had their very best interests at heart. The proof was here in this visitation. "Hello," she said quietly by way of greeting.
Éomer stared openly at her dirty clothes and at the smudged grime on her face and arms. She had obviously been hard at work, but he was convinced he was doing the right thing in being here. Dismounting, he touched her shoulder before stepping around her. Facing a hundred curious faces, he came forward. She lowered her gaze and turned to face him. He was stepping towards them, stopping only to see Elena, who was gazing at him with such skepticism in her eyes that he smiled. Buffy felt a tingle in her spine, but forced it away. This was no time to play the romantic Slayer. It was time to play the responsible one.
After giving Éomer a tour of their rather paltry village, they soon reached a narrow area where, at last, he felt they could be alone. "I have come to summon all to return to Edoras for the funeral of their fallen King," he said in a low voice.
"Okay," she said simply.
"I wish for you to return to Minas Tirith with my guard," he said, gesturing to the men on horseback who now surrounded the village.
"You just want to get me alone," she said, teasingly.
"I have missed you," he said quietly.
The look on her face tightened and she looked away. "Don't say that."
"I mean you no disrespect."
"Of course you don't," she said, turning to face him. "But I promised I would keep my distance so you could rule this great land."
"I would not wish for you to break your promise," he replied, "but even the Elves speak of your valor and wish for you to dwell amongst them. To know that you are quite a prize…"
"I am no one's prize," she said coldly, her eyes darkening. "I'm the Slayer. I kill for a living."
"Would you call this killing?" he asked casually, gesturing towards the small amount of progress they had made.
"No," she said quietly. "I call this rebuilding."
He leaned forward and took her dirt-covered hands into his. "I would call that progress."
Her eyes softened slightly as she gazed up at him. "People are watching," she said softly.
"Somehow I no longer care," he replied. "They will soon hear of your tales of valor. They will also hear of this. You have gone to them in their darkest hour and you did not turn your back to them. For this… someday you will be rewarded."
"But not today," she said, gently detaching her hands from his. "I'm not done yet."
"I never thought that you were."
"So… Gondor, eh? When do we leave?"
"Tomorrow at dawn, should these people spare you." He noticed a young child gazing questioningly at him. "Who is that child?"
"Her name is Elena, and she has been my little shadow since I got here," Buffy said as they moved back into the dying light. "You should spend some time here and get to know these people and let them see the real you. Let them see the King I know you are."
It was in this moment, as he gazed into her blazing eyes, that he knew for the first time what this love truly was.
x-x-x
Éowyn quietly slipped out of her hammock, gazing down at the bloody sunrise. She had spent yet another long night in her mother's old bedroom. Moving towards the curving stairs, she stopped halfway down before collapsing. She had no will yet to leave this place, but Éomer had already left. He was going to the West to collect his Captain and summon the other people to return for Théoden's funeral. After that, she thought, her stomach tightening, she would no longer be of Rohan.
This place was an heirloom, she thought, gazing around. But it shouldn't go to waste.
She finally moved from the room and to the veranda. Already the hot summer sun was warming the daylight, a slight haze hovering above their heads. The air was fresh with a clear breeze and with it came a new feeling, a renewed sense of hope.
Hope was kindled in Rohan once again.
x-x-x
In the next chapter, Éomer and Buffy return to Minas Tirith where Buffy is reunited with her mentor. And, at long last, a former King begins his journey home.