FIRST KNIGHT BY ASHA DREAMWEAVER
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.
Summary: BtVS/LotR. Buffy gets sent to Middle Earth to help bring down Sauron. Her duty, like the Istari, is not to confront Sauron directly but to help those fated to face him bring him down. More specifically she's to help the King of Gondor get on his throne. Will Arwen and Aragorn's love stand against the shadow? Will Legolas be able to keep a secret, that if revealed, could shatter the lives of those he cares for? Will Buffy be able to fulfil her duty? Will Denethor be able to put aside his animosity for the man who would supplant him? Will the ringbearer reach Mount Doom, or will he be cut down before he reaches his goal? And will Boromir resist the lure of the ring?
Author's notes: Thanks for all the reviews!
Review responses:
Anna - hope this was quick enough for you!
BuffyandDracoLover - She's gonna leave him hanging for a while.
Delphine Pryde - So is he.
ennui deMorte - Thanks! The greatest reward for a writer is to be told that somebody likes their story even if they don't normally like the genre or material! J And as for Spike, the Buffy of my story tends to prefer not to dwell on Sunnydale and its inhabitants too much as it usually leads to either fits of temper or waterworks. Spike did stand by her, but her feelings for him are all mixed up with memories she'd rather not remember. She can't go home so for her, it's time to move on. And as it's been about a year since she arrived in ME, she's had plenty of time to deal with it during her time in the Elven realms. I hope that explains it.
Jess aka BRTW - Her wrath is indeed a thing to be feared. Just ask Glorfindel. Or Elladan and Elrohir. … or Denethor…
Lunawolf - Everyone's asking about the ageing thing with regards to Buffy. Ok, the Elves know a lot more than they're letting on and poor Buffy thinks she's just like everybody else at the moment. She is not expecting it to take nearly as long as it will for the War of the Ring to come round. As for Buffy, and like what is done for Gimli in the future, the grace of Galadriel will procure something unexpected for Buffy. That's as much as I'm saying until it comes up in the story.
Nobody - No, the Scoobies will not be showing up in ME.
Pam - What will happen with Ecthelion is not going to improve Denethor's manners any.
ShawThang - thanks! It's always nice to know I'm keeping B in character!
Star - I love long chapters myself but what I find when writing long chapters is that there are way longer delays between updates. So as I have other fics to work on as well, I divided some of the chapters into two so that I can get the updates out quicker without sacrificing the pace of the story. And about Buffy's cover… Well, she's never been known for being discreet.
SuperDangerFrog - Aragorn's intrigue is going to keep increasing because Buffy's not spilling the beans just yet. She's hinting but it's all rather baffling if you don't have all the puzzle pieces.
Wild320 - Yes, this is going to be very much Buffy/Aragorn. Eventually after the Buffy/Aragorn/Arwen triangle is cleared up.
And major thanks to:
BB, Destiny's Dragon, gaul1, Jania, scarlett caelian,
CHAPTER FIVE: ADMIRAL WAS A LADY
"Love does not begin and end the way we seem to think it does. Love is a battle, love is a war; love is a growing up."
- James Baldwin
"Lord Ecthelion?" Buffy said, "You demanded my presence?"
"Yes," the ageing Steward replied, gesturing for her to take a seat, "I have heard many tales since your return, from too many sources to be taken for exaggeration. It seems that my son owes his life to you. As does Captain Thorongil."
Buffy really had to wonder where this was going. She hoped she wasn't about to get fired. "Well, I'm sure that they would have managed to make their escape eventually. But I felt it wasn't wise to wait to see if they managed to dodge the hospitality of the Corsairs."
Ecthelion looked at her with keen eyes, eyes that saw so much more than his son did, "I have known since our first meeting that you were a woman of exceptional talents. I admit that I had not expected them to be so very extraordinary or put to use so quickly but from the first I knew you were not what you claimed to be." He held up a hand to forestall Buffy's protests, "I am not asking you to account for anything. Your purpose here seems to be an altruistic one, else you would not have bothered to retrieve my captains."
"My Lord, I assure you that I have no ill intent towards Gondor or any of her people. And I really am a healer, if somewhat new to the craft."
Ecthelion chuckled slightly, "I am aware of that. I am also aware that 'twas not for my son's sake that you waged battle on the Corsairs but for the man who should be my son's liege lord."
"I beg your pardon?" Buffy managed to croak out, wondering how in earth, (or should she be saying Arda? she idly wondered) the amenable Steward knew so much, and hinting that he knew even more.
"I know that Thorongil, as he calls himself, should be seated upon the long empty throne of Gondor with the winged crown on his head and the sceptre of the north in his hand. I am not so blind as my son who loathes Thorongil's success. I see a man who will be king. Who is worthy to be king."
Well, the cat was royally out of the bag now, Buffy thought with some amusement. "And why are you telling me this?"
"Because for some reason, you guard Thorongil's back and I will not expose one with such a noble goal. Were it not for your colouring, I would have thought you one of the Dúnedain. Unless you have Rohirrim blood? I will not press you but I will aid you in your task, to reward you for your victory and to allow Gondor to take advantage of your skills."
"Politicians!" Buffy muttered, before questioning him, "What do you mean by that?"
"I mean to make you a Lieutenant of Gondor, under Thorongil's command. It would allow you more freedom while having a legitimate excuse to protect him."
"You'd trust me that much?" Buffy asked in disbelief.
"'Tis said that those of Númenóreon descent have touches of foresight, and while such gifts are seldom seen in the House of the Stewards in recent times, I do have it in some measure. I don't see treachery in your heart and so I shall trust you in this. Do you accept this command?"
"I suppose 'Lieutenant' does have a nice ring to it," Buffy mused, "I shall accept I suppose. This doesn't mean I have to wear one of those stupid uniforms? No offence, but I doubt they have all that lovely armour in my size."
Ecthelion's lips twitched slightly, as if suppressing a smile, "I think you can make do with the standard black over tunic with the white tree. After that I think you may wear the armour I was told you wore when harassing the Corsairs. I really have to offer you my heartiest congratulations on that victory. It has been many a while since the Corsairs have known the wrath of Gondor."
Surprised by the Steward's acceptance, Buffy found herself smiling. It would seem that she now had a very persuasive ally to help stop Aragorn's 'I-must-know-everything' complex from trying to unravel the mystery that was her.
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To celebrate the Captains' return, the victory over the Corsairs and Buffy's most unconventional promotion, Ecthelion held a great feast in Merethrond, the magnificent hall of feasts. Buffy was to have a place of honour, along with the two somewhat abashed captains, who felt that celebrating their extradition from a rather humiliating capture, especially in Denethor's case, was rubbing salt in the wound.
Buffy had been sent an expensive new gown, compliments of Ecthelion, to wear to the feast. She was sure it was pretty. It looked pretty. Problem was she wasn't exactly sure how to put it on. Clothes were a bit more complicated, and medieval, here in Middle Earth than what she was used to.
And the dresses she had worn before, mostly at Elrond's insistence, (not that she didn't like dressing up but because she found it really funny to rile the Elvenlord by refusing to swap breeches for a skirt.) were of a different style to the Gondorions'. She intensely disliked tight bodices, even if she did give kudos to the opportunities for secret knife and dagger stashing that they presented.
She hated fussing around with loads of tiny buttons on her own. A flexible slayer she might be, but she was ready to kill for a zip!
She spent an hour wrestling with the dratted dress, and was about to chalk it up as the first thing to defeat the slayer since she arrived, but luckily for her, Ioreth had stopped by to sort out her now somewhat redundant status of healer in Minas Tirith and rescued Buffy from the cloth ambush.
Finally dressed and ready to go, Buffy swept into Merethrond with the demeanour of one about to face a trying battle. And to her it was. So many manners to remember, so little good music. And no chips and dip. Gondorions were sticklers for tradition ever since the line of kings ended and she didn't doubt that there was going to be hell of a hard slog awaiting her if she didn't want to be classed as 'the savage'.
She'd had enough of Cordelia's taunting when she was in Sunnydale. She most certainly did not want to start up that social pariah thing again.
Really, her wit and puns were wasted here. So many understood nothing. Especially not the pop culture references. The social history here was more of a Giles-type thing, you know with the 'oh dear, Sauron just incinerated the king' and the 'oh no, the island's sinking into the sea! Help!' kind of background.
And while she could do the war talk thing with the best of them, the other officers and Lords didn't seem to agree. How she missed Elladan and Elrohir! If they made you mad, no one blinked an eye if you quite literally started brawling with them, everyone being too used to their antics to even bother blinking an eye at the addition of one to their number.
Surprisingly, or not so surprisingly when she thought about it, she liked shaking things up. Chaos was fun, especially when it was let loose against someone with a big stick up their ass.
And when it came to chaos, Elladan and Elrohir were masters. Arwen was no slouch in that department either, she just didn't get caught nearly as often and so was considered the 'good' one of the trio.
Being ushered to her seat by a gaping herald, she looked to either side of her and groaned. Why, oh why did she have to be seated between Aragorn and Denethor?! She'd have one treating her like she was a helpless, if uncouth, maiden who never found out exactly how the Corsairs had taken him. As if she didn't know she'd scoffed, when he'd claimed not to remember, the man tried way too hard.
And on the other side, there was Aragorn, who seemed to be trying to bore a hole in her with his eyes. She'd heard the tales of his childhood misadventures from Elrond and the twins and knew that he was anything but blind. He'd suspected something from the start and her timely rescue of his sorry ass had done nothing to dissuade him from his personal investigation. He watched her like a hawk, was as paranoid about her as Anya had been about bunny rabbits and wasn't someone she wanted as an enemy.
Anyone who had grown up under the tutelage of Elladan and Elrohir was bound to be as devious as them, maybe even worse if they really tried.
If he really tried, or his uncanny foresight kicked in, he could probably figure her out.
Which was something she didn't want to happen. She'd tell him on her own terms, in her own time thank you very much!
If she timed it just right, she might just be able to make him walk into a wall or something.
The very thought cheered her up immensely.
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Lost in her thoughts, Buffy didn't notice the great interest she generated in the hall. The favour she had earned with Ecthelion along with her acts against the Corsairs would have set tongues wagging on its own. But to be the first female lieutenant ever and to enter Merethrond blatantly wearing something she shouldn't have been able to afford by her own means, only set the room ablaze with gossip, about her mysterious origins, her breeding, her ambitions, and with each theory the tales around her grew.
She was a Shield-maiden of Rohan. She was an illegitimate child of Ecthelion. She was a spy for the Dark Lord, a gold-digging witch from the wilds, a lecherous woman after Denethor's future wealth, a spy for the Easterlings, Thorongil's mistress, a peasant seeking a title… all these and many more were bandied about the room with glee by the gossipmongers, with Buffy for the moment oblivious to them.
The dress she wore was made of snug dark blue velvet, richly trimmed and decorated with embroidery. While she was much shorter than those descended from the very tall Númenóreons, she had a presence which more than made up for her lack of height.
And as she was contemplating the best way to keep two unruly captains from asking too many awkward questions, she failed to notice the multitude of eyes watching her every move, believing that it was standard for the high table to be stared at.
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Buffy was thoroughly bored by the time the dancing started. She'd been fending off Denethor's not so subtle advances and Aragorn's all too subtle questions about her past for the last two hours. Really, did the eating portion of the evening have to take so long? Even though she didn't do the dancing of this place, no swaying and bopping to the beat here, she was relieved to finally have an excuse to ditch the two stooges.
She'd found a nifty little corner, hidden in a shadowed alcove and with a great view of the rest of the room, to hide in. Happily sinking into the stuffed chair, she barely resisted the urge to curl her feet up under her and make catty comments about the various snobby Cordelia-at-her-worst wannabes making the rounds of the room.
And so when Aragorn found her, she was ready to curse him out for his ranger skills. What was it about the Dúnedain and shadowed corners?! This one was hers! He could go skulk elsewhere!
But when he showed no signs of leaving, instead looking at her with a serious and slightly menacing expression, she sighed and flashed him an annoying smile. "Yes, what do you want? Or are you going to stand there, gaping like a big fish, all day?"
Grey eyes narrowed, "You are forward, lady."
"I can also go backwards and sideways too!" Buffy said in her best 'aren't I an airhead?' voice, being deliberately obtuse to yank his chain.
Apparently Aragorn decided to abandon the polite method of doing things, "Who are you? What are you?" he stated bluntly, folding his arms across his chest and expecting an answer.
Unfortunately for him, Buffy Summers wasn't easily intimidated. "Eliza, formerly a healer, now your lieutenant! Did I leave something out of our previous introductions, horse boy?"
"I do not know how you fooled Ecthelion, and I care not how you fool Denethor, but I am by no means stupid. Skill and strength such as yours is not granted to the mortal races."
"It's a result of many years of training and kicking butts. I'm really good at it. What else can I say?"
Aragorn smiled dangerously. Well, he was most definitely persistent Buffy thought with some consternation. Good for him, bad for me. "'Tis said that Sauron can grant such boons to his servants. Would you be one of them?" His hand had slipped down to the hilt of the sword that he always wore at his side, subtly and not so subtly implying his threat of imminent dismemberment.
"Listen here, Thorongil," she snapped, placing undue emphasis on his alias, "I am as much Sauron's servant as you are. All these accusations are getting annoying. If you have a point in coming over here, get to it or else go get lost!"
"I think not," Aragorn said quietly, "Too much stands unaccounted for in my dealings with you. I will not leave you alone 'til I have the answers I seek."
"Well, then you're going to be following me around for a long, long time, 'cos I don't respond well to threats."
The menacing light in his eyes chilled so that they resembled a glacier for all the warmth in them, and he looked around the room for any that might be observing them. Apparently satisfied with what he saw, his next action was so quick, it took even Buffy by surprise.
Yanking the nearby curtain across the alcove, so that nobody could see what was going on, he leaned down and very firmly placed his arms on the armrests of the chairs, leaning over her and blocking the clearest avenue of escape. "I am not in the mood for games, nor do your lies deceive me. Tell me what your purpose here is or I will make sure you are thrown out of the city forthwith."
"You have a high opinion of yourself indeed if you think you can just chuck me out of here without any opposition. I think Lord Ecthelion would be displeased if that was your normal method of greeting your lieutenants."
"And he would be most displeased if I were to go to him with all this interesting information about you, lady. I would think the warm welcome you have received of late would cool considerably in the face of his ire."
Well, talk about playing hardball. And in a public place too. Time to disabuse a ranger of yet another silly notion, "You make the mistake of thinking Lord Ecthelion doesn't already know why I'm here," she said, smiling disarmingly. "And threatening me as you are doing is not the best way to get in my good graces. I assure you, you wouldn't believe the things I know about you, ranger of the north. So I would suggest you remove yourself from my presence right now before I get cranky."
Grabbing her by the arms, and yanking her upwards so that he towered over her, he shook her lightly and hissed, "What did you call me?"
Buffy felt a little flutter in her stomach at the strength of his grip. Apparently his Númenóreon and Elvish heritage hadn't waned as far as many people thought it had. His grip was nearly as strong as an Elf's, even if he still wouldn't match one in the long haul. This wasn't private Riley who thought he had to be strong to be a man, Aragorn was much stronger than she'd anticipated. She had to wonder how he'd fare against her. He was the only not undead or supernaturally souped up man she'd come across that was close to matching her.
"Suilaid Dúnedain of the north." Buffy repeated in Elvish, "I mean you no harm, hir neth, but you will be harmed if you don't get your hands off me very snappy."
Aragorn's eyes widened in surprise but his grip only tightened even more, yanking her against him. He would have left bruises if she was an ordinary woman. "Why do you say that? How do you know Elvish? Why tell me this?"
"I know you're one of the Dúnedain. Your purpose is your own." she said placidly, hiding her growing anger at being treated this way. But then a little voice inside her head reminded her that she'd landed herself in this rather uncomfortable position. And if she really listened, which she didn't, she might have noticed the little voice saying that it really wasn't that uncomfortable at all.
"Who sent you?" Aragorn snarled, convinced more than ever that Sauron had at last found the sole living heir to the throne of Gondor and had sent this… woman to kill him.
"No one sent me," Buffy lied easily, "'Tis not hard to recognise one of the Dúnedain, even amongst the men of Gondor. I have met some of the rangers of the north before, they often wander around Bree and the northlands. Now, let me go before I make you do it." Her tone hardened and Aragorn felt her muscles bunch in preparation to throw him off.
Having seen her in action before, he didn't hesitate to believe that she would do as he said. "Be iest lîn," he said, releasing her and taking a step back. "But we still have much to discuss."
Buffy adjusted the rumpled sleeves of her dress, "I would think we have very little to talk about. You just assaulted me, accused me of being a spy for the Dark Lord, who I do not like by the way, - ghosts and unfriendly spirits are so not my thing, and have been as rude as a Dunlending savage. I think you owe me an apology!" she demanded, placing her hands on her hips and glaring up at him.
"Amin hiraetha, hiril nîn, you have my sincerest apology for the rough manner in which I treated you, but you still have much to explain before I let you leave here."
"If you're so convinced that there's something strange about me, do you really think you'd be enough to stop me leaving if I chose to?"
"Many have underestimated me before, lady," Aragorn said levelly, holding his ground.
Buffy huffed, "Same with me, buddy. Now if you will excuse me, I'm leaving."
Aragorn tried to grab her arm but she was too quick and slipped by him, joining the throngs of people moving around the room and leaving him to stare after her in frustration.
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Having escaped the clutches of Aragorn, her luck escaped her once more and she nearly walked right into Denethor.
"Lady Eliza!" the steward's son slurred merrily, having imbibed much of the strong wine that had been freely flowing amongst the guests all night. "I am glad to have found you at last. I feared you had left early, and without escort."
"I can take care of myself, my lord," Buffy replied, trying not to laugh at the spaced out look on his face from the alcohol. Spotting Aragorn converging on her position, she slipped her arm through Denethor's, "How about we take a short walk around the hall, my lord?"
Denethor seemed pleased and the duo swiftly left the seething ranger behind. He silently led her to the now quiet area near the banquet table, before speaking, "Would you fancy a stroll outside, for some fresh air?" he asked.
Taking her chance to escape with a reasonable excuse/alibi in place, she agreed and soon they were walking along the near deserted halls of the citadel, leaving the revellers behind.
Tugging on her arm to halt her steps beside a window with a spectacular view of the courtyard, he fidgeted some and then turned to face her. "My lady, I must admit that I have been holding my tongue for some time now on this most important matter. Though I am confident that my attentions are returned, I have been hesitant to speak of such a great honour to your person…"
Buffy's eyes had widened impossibly as he went on. No, no! He cannot be doing this! Buffy screamed mentally, why did everything have to happen to her?! So busy trying to find a non-offensive way to get out of this mess, she missed when Denethor stopped talking and only came back to her senses just as he was leaning in to kiss her. And grope her! Eeugh!
Slayer instincts took over and before he could even blink in surprise, she'd decked him.
"Eeugh! Oh my god, eeugh!" Buffy squealed in disgust, "What did I do to deserve Mr. Lame-o here having the hots for me?!"
Denethor was sprawled out cold on the floor, faintly smelling of drink and with a rapidly swelling bruise spreading across his face where her fist had impacted. Well, she sure knew how to attract them! But what on earth was she going to do with him? She didn't think anyone was going to believe that he ran into a door.
Her ears picked up on near silent footsteps heading her way. Oh no! She tried to find an escape route that didn't involve jumping out the window but to no avail.
Aragorn's only reaction to the strange scene was to raise an eyebrow in her direction. Obviously, he picked that look up from Elrond. Smiling innocently, she said, "My lord Denethor seems to have had a bit of an accident. I've been debating what to do with him. He's far too heavy for me to move alone. How fortunate your timing is captain!"
The look he shot her made it perfectly clear he didn't believe a word of it, "Lord Denethor had an… accident?" he repeated contemptuously.
She blinked guilelessly, as innocent as driven snow, "Well, what else could it have been? Surely no one would have dared attack the lord in his own citadel?"
Aragorn couldn't believe what he was hearing. She did the innocent act almost as well as Elladan and Elrohir. Almost. He wasn't going to believe one word she said, even if she batted those pretty eyes at him from here to eternity.
He'd seen her leave with Denethor, the guards at the hall's entrance had confirmed their departure and now the man seemed to have been knocked unconscious by a mean right hook. "I wonder how he got this bruise?" he mused aloud, having a very good idea how the man had gotten it. Despite himself, he found himself impressed with her. To knock a man unconscious with one blow was no small feat for one her size.
"I really have no idea whatsoever," Buffy said, "But really, all the excitement today has tired me out. I really must get going or I'll never get up in the morning. Do send my regards to Lord Denethor when he wakes. Good night!" and she scampered off down the hall, hoping that the drunken man wouldn't remember exactly how he'd gotten roughed up.
Standing over Denethor, Aragorn watched her stroll off, looking as if she had nary a care in the world, leaving him to deal with her mess. Well, he had better things to be doing with his time than babysitting Denethor, and then he left himself, figuring that the servants would find the man sooner or later.
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When she got back to her room, Buffy debated the night's events for a long time. She'd been denying something to herself for a while now, and the incident with Aragorn had only brought it to the fore.
She knew that she had had the hots for Aragorn for a while now. Who wouldn't? He was a hottie, non-evil entity, alive, smart and good with weapons. All of which were improvements on the previous men in her life.
But tonight had brought up something more serious, and she really didn't know how to and didn't want to deal with this right now. She had felt more than lust when he'd yanked her against his chest and quite frankly that scared her.
She's allowed herself to get too close. She'd begun to fall for Aragorn and that was a slippery slope with no hope of being able to climb back up again when you reached the bottom.
She didn't know why this had to happen. She didn't want to mess up her new life and she'd had too many bad relationships in the past to want to further mess up her life with them. She'd thought she'd had her little lusting under control. How wrong she'd been. Her feelings had taken a turn she hadn't expected and she honestly didn't know what to do.
She knew full well that he'd been in love with Arwen since he was a boy and while Arwen didn't return the feelings at the moment, there was very little chance that a man who had had his head turned by the Evenstar, the most beautiful Elven maiden to walk in Arda since the First Age, would turn his attentions elsewhere.
Not to mention that if Arwen did return his feelings, and only wasn't saying so because Elrond would throw a fit, then she'd be the sorriest excuse for a friend that Arwen had ever had.
She would get over this, she vowed. She'd had enough of pigheaded men. Not to mention that it was his destiny to someday be King, which would require someone who knew how to be a Queen. No, if she allowed her feelings to get any more out of control, then all she was in for was more angst, heartbreak, misery and the urge to castrate him.
Nothing would come of this, she swore. Absolutely nothing. She didn't really care for him at all, she reminded herself.
Then why did she feel so crushed?
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The next meeting of the Captains and their lieutenants was very interesting from Aragorn's point of view. Denethor's jaw had swollen up to nearly twice it's normal size and was decorated with a whole array of colourful bruises. Considering that it hurt him to talk, Aragorn considered it a vast improvement on his normal disposition, as it limited his ability to make snide remarks.
No one had found out exactly how the man had gotten hurt in the first place as Denethor had been unable to remember anything and so the son of the steward had had to endure being grist for the gossip mill and the victim of much teasing.
And of course, the real culprit wasn't talking.
Aragorn hid a smile as he watched Buffy seeming somewhat disinterested in the proceedings, even as she relaxed into her seat. It amused him to see her so, formidable even as she appeared so small in the high backed chair.
While he still had his reservations about her, he was more inclined to believe she meant no harm after the incident with Denethor. If she had been sent to do damage to Gondor or its people, she would have killed the man not punched him.
It had made him much more amenable to her good qualities and having observed her in the days since the feast, he had ascertained that she would bring a great deal of humour and liveliness to the sometimes stuffy ways of the Gondorions.
Now, if he could just find out what she was hiding, he might even go as far as befriending her…
Eru knows that if the twins had taught him one thing it was this; never make an enemy of a crazy person, (which summed them up) or a woman in a fury (which Eliza was quite often).
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As Aragorn smirked at the blonde woman and she retaliated in kind, Denethor slowly seethed in his seat. This latest humiliation inflicted upon him had only curdled his normally not so sweet temper even further and now he had to watch Thorongil take the lead in the discussions he was unable to participate in.
He once more had to admit defeat.
It was clear from watching them. Lady Eliza was not interested in himself one whit. Instead, her favour seemed to lie with Thorongil. Thorongil, the thorn in his side and bane of his existence. He had stolen his father's love, his people's love and now he had stolen back the very woman who Denethor had wanted to steal from him!
Thorongil took everything from him and Eru knew he probably had his eye on the long abandoned throne was well. Considering his tendency to usurp everything else, he wouldn't put it past him to seek that as well.
Well, Denethor had his suspicions about Thorongil and if they turned out true, there would be only one course of action left to him.
Thorongil would not take what was rightfully his any longer.
The revered Captain Thorongil would have to… disappear…
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A/N: So? What do you think? Please READ and REVIEW!
Next chapter: Denethor's wedding is the setting for some surprises for Buffy and Aragorn. And Denethor finds the proof he has always sought….
Elvish:
suilaid - greetings
hir neth - lordling
Be iest lîn - As you wish
Amin hiraetha, hiril nîn - I am sorry, my lady.
