FIRST KNIGHT BY ASHA DREAMWEAVER
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.
Summary: BtVS/LotR. Buffy is 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 has to help the King of Gondor get on his throne. Will Aragorn and Buffy's strained relationship ever be resolved? What will Aragorn do with the information, the secret, which he now knows? What has Arwen planned? And what will happen when the Three rise up in fury? Will Buffy be able to fulfil her duty when she's now the hunted? 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 what path does Boromir now follow?
Author's notes: (Asha walks out. Waves.) Bet you are all wondering what I'm planning now, huh? Does Éomer die later? How does this effect Dernhelm? Where did I get the Balrog from? Is there any more of them? What will happen at the Pelennor? And for all of you wondering whom I'm going to kill next, I have several victims lined up!
P.S - I'm sorry for the delay on this chapter but I had Irish language orals this week and I have French orals starting Monday. So I've been swamped!
P.P.S - Check out my new fic, 'The Drabbles Series'. It's a spin-off from this story where deleted scenes, unwritten moments etc are being posted. Any request for a particular one will be considered!
Review responses:
Arcrose - thanks! Sorry, Haldir stays maimed. The realities of war are what they are. And yes, I plan on messing with the Saruman angle, Miss Psychic.
Boo - oh, I killed him off early. No questions about it.
ChibiChibi - thanks! And welcome back! And I think that Éomer will make a good king of Rohan! About the killing of Saruman…. See for yourself who the culprit is. I don't want to give it away! Yes, the dark slayer was created from Buffy's blood from all those years ago. Sauron likes to experiment… and if I didn't plan the sequel early then you guys would have a nice long gap between the end of FK and the start of the sequel. And there's a scene with Frodo and Sam in this chapter. Good luck on your exams too!
Clcountry - welcome back! And thanks!
Dreamer Child - thank you! Glad you liked the action and humour mix.
Emerald sorceress - thanks! And I hope you think Éomer's up to the job! And there's always a little light….
FallenStar2 - hi! Thanks! Ah, the Balrog was sent by Sauron. Explained in this chapter. And I'm trying to make sure the Pelennor still has its wow factor. Trust me. And trust me on this as well, Aragorn noticed Buffy's comment. Big time. And Saruman is about to make a mistake… with fatal consequences…
Goldenshadows - thank you! And her admission was kinda a bit of both. Stressful circumstances and all that.
Haley - Of course, I love to surprise you! The answer to the second question is yes. And the Balrog came from Sauron.
Kit-Kat - thank you! And I don't have a favourite kind but the thought is sweet!
Lali-chan - thanks! And yes, a lot of people are now wondering what I have planned for Minas Tirith. Pity I'm not telling, isn't it? Ouch about the tests. Big ouch. You have my sympathy but as I have my French language oral on Monday, I have to save some for myself! And yes, Aragorn noticed. Oh boy, he noticed.
Lisette - thanks.
Mari - thanks! And yes, Aragorn heard her comment. And I actually am planning on writing a couple of drabbles - missing or unwritten scenes mainly.
Noclaf - thanks! Glad you like it!
Phoenix83ad - thanks! And I am glad to be able to have Éomer make the important decisions now. Théoden was always a little bitter after the loss of his son. And Aragorn did pick up on the comment…
Shadow Master - thanks! And I know Buffy wielded Narya a bit clumsily but she had no idea how to work it, so… and I have my reasons for Théoden's assassination… (Cackles) And you are not the only one wondering about Éomer's future fate… and fireballs are an interesting idea but I think a rain of fire is a bit beyond Buffy's means at the moment… and while the vision had something to do with the shape-shifter, it also refers to some of Buffy's underlying problems.
Shabopo - No Xander. No Willow. No Scoobies. And yes, Éomer is cute.
ShawThang - thanks! Where do my ideas come from? You said it, my friend. From Hell. My muse likes to holiday there.
Vixen519 - this chapter!
White-Witch-Sakura - thanks! And Aragorn did hear it.
XinnLajgin - yes.
And major thanks to:
Aleviel, Ali, Becky, D347hbyp45510n, General Mac, Lady Smoothie, Lindiel Eryn, Lunawolf, Selene, Sukera, The Great and Powerful Oz, Tommy14, Tsuki no Yasha, Willow Tree Pixie,
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN: OFF TO SEE THE WIZARD
"Adversity is like a strong wind. It tears away from us all but the things that cannot be torn, so that we see ourselves as we really are."
– Arthur Golden
Helms Deep, Rohan, 3019 TA, March 8.
Even as Éomer and Éowyn drew away to grieve over their lost uncle, Gandalf silently took over the organisation of the clean up of Helms Deep. The wounded had to be seen too, food and shelter had to be provided, their own dead had to be buried and the bodies of their enemies burned. The crafty wizard knew that it was not yet the time to bother the new King of Rohan with such matters ere he had a chance to realise that he now held the position.
And so it was, when the better part of two hours later, brother and sister returned, the hastily assembled team was there, consisting of what remained of the Fellowship of the Ring.
Éomer quietly thanked the wizard for his efforts and then asked him what else he needed to know. He was not such a fool as to think the threat of Saruman over.
The wizard's eyes twinkled, "Well, the huorns have left for Fangorn, and the clean-up is under way so I would say that the most pressing matter is dealing with Saruman once and for all. You must go to Isengard."
Éomer's eyes hardened, "The huorns are the trees then? I had wondered if I had imagined them. Were they your work?" he asked.
The wizard shook his head, "Nay, the deed was not mine. It is a thing beyond even the counsel of the wise. Better than my design, and better even than my hope the event has proved."
The young Horse-lord's eyes narrowed, "Then if not yours, whose is the wizardry? I do not believe that they appeared there with no intent."
"It is not wizardry, but a power far older," Gandalf replied, "A power that walked the earth ere elf sang, or hammer rang. The Ents who live in Fangorn sent their aid."
"The Ents?" Éomer repeated in disbelief, "That is the stuff of children's tales!"
"Ah, but so are Elves, and Balrogs, and wizards," he replied, shaking his staff, "But have they not been proven true?"
Éomer wisely did not reply to that, "Tell me this first though, Gandalf the Grey, ere you dispatch any more counsel, what was that creature outside the Deeping Wall. Even now, my men shy away from it. And where did it come from?"
Buffy squirmed uncomfortably at Gandalf's knowing look, "It was a Balrog," the wizard answered, "A demon of the ancient world, made of shadow and flame. Sent by Sauron from the bowels of the earth to ensure that nothing of Rohan would escape alive. Two ages have passed since a Balrog last stalked the lands of Middle Earth, forsaking their dark holes. It is worrying. However, it is dead now. No more harm shall come from this one."
"But does he have any more?" Buffy asked. "I mean, these things are not supposed to be easy to find or very numerous anymore. How on earth did he get one all the way here without anyone noticing?"
"My uncle did not have much contact with the realm of Gondor when Gríma Wormtongue was his counsellor," Éowyn said, speaking up, "If there was any news from that realm, we would not have heard it. Even if it came, Wormtongue would have seen it destroyed."
"But how did it die?" Éomer asked thoughtfully, "I have marked the fear of even the Elves when they speak of this creature. Even now, no Elf or Man will approach it, even buried under the rubble. If it is so fearsome, how did it die?"
Buffy subtly shook her head at Gandalf but the wizard cheerfully ignored her, "Your people were lucky, Éomer King," he said, "You had a Slayer at Helms Deep. And she killed it."
Éomer's eyes swivelled to the only official female warrior in the room, "Elliandre?" he said in disbelief, "You killed that! How is that even possible? And what is a Slayer?"
"Previous experience," Buffy said with a straight face, "And a whole lot of luck. And Slayer is just a nickname. Isn't that right, Gandalf?"
The Istar just smirked maddeningly; "Of course Dagnir." he said placatingly, "Luck was all it was."
The heads of Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli swivelled between slayer and wizard, picking up the undercurrents but not knowing their meaning. Well, except for Legolas, who had seen something rather startling when Buffy faced the Balrog.
Gandalf seemed to ignore Buffy's discomfiture though, and concentrated on guiding this new King, "You must go to Isengard, Éomer King," he said urgently, "You cannot dismiss him as a threat. And he has information we need."
"What good would visiting Saruman do us?" Éomer asked, "Has he not caused enough damage?"
"Because Saruman was allied with Sauron, and he may have information that will be useful to us," Gandalf answered, "The battle for Helms Deep is over. But the battle for Middle Earth is about to begin. Can we afford not to be ready? 'Tis no use to win here only to have Sauron's armies sweep in on you from the other side. This is a war for Middle Earth, not just a war for Rohan."
Éomer pondered his words, and was forced to agree.
Therefore, to Isengard they were to go.
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After the meeting, the weary and heart sore party had retreated into the remnants of the Hornburg, to catch what sleep that was allowed to them, and to ready themselves for the next journey. Éomer was to travel to Isengard with a small escort at the insistence of Erkenbrand and the newly arrived Marshal Elfhelm, and a grumbling Éowyn was to take the people back to Edoras with Gamling, where foodstuffs and supplies awaited them, with a stop by Dunharrow to gather the people of the Westfold that had hidden themselves in the mountain refuge.
Buffy, nearly sleepwalking from exhaustion at this point, was greatly looking forward to throwing herself in the bed and falling asleep right where she landed. And so, when a hand grabbed her elbow, nearly causing her to lose her balance, she was not in the best of moods at the interruption. And even less so when she saw that it was Aragorn.
"Go away, ranger boy," she groaned tiredly, trying to yank herself out of his grasp but failing miserably due to the shooting pain that covered most of her body. "Some of us are trying to get some sleep."
"We need to talk," he insisted, his tone and grip gentling when he saw the pale, drained face, the slightly glassy look in her normally sharp eyes, and the way she was trying not to wobble. Concerned now, he moved to support her better, "Buffy? Are you well?"
"I'm fine, Aragorn," she grouched, trying to move to go to her room but finding herself caught firmly in his grasp, "Now please go away. I am way too tired to deal with you right now."
Unfortunately for her, Aragorn had no intention of doing so. He could feel something in the back of his mind, telling him that everything was not as it seemed. And the more he listened to it, the more he tended to understand. "You are hurt," he stated.
Grumbling, she tried to kick his feet out from under him, but her side protested and she could not fully suppress the gasp of pain. That was all the confirmation he needed. Sweeping her into his arms, even as she flailed in protest, he bore her into her room, ignoring the litany of expletives and deposited her on her bed.
"Aragorn, you big jerk!" she hissed, "Can I not have a moment's peace? I do not need the damsel in distress act right now!"
He just looked at her sternly, before grabbing her pack and rummaging around until he found her healing supplies. "I did hear what you said when you faced off against the…. other you. Do not think that I did not. And I would also like an explanation as to how you ended up with the Ring of Fire, but I realise that it can wait until you are rested."
She gaped at him, the snappy retort vanishing from the tip of her tongue in her surprise. "What!" she exclaimed, "What are you on about? Ring of Fire is Elven, remember? Predates little ol' me?"
He arched an eyebrow in a credible imitation of Lord Elrond, "Bluffing will not avail you, meleth," he said as he mixed together a salve, "You said it, I heard it. Do not try to deny it now. You are only testing my already stretched patience. Now, where are you hurt?"
"I said I'm fine," she said stubbornly, dragging herself into a seated position as he approached.
He pushed her back down and pushed up her tunic, baring the dark bruising, "Oh yes, you are fine. I am sure that the bruising and the cracked ribs are only scratches," he said sarcastically, even as she tried to swat his hands away, "This reminds me of the time when Elladan tried to convince adar that he had not been mauled by a warg and then collapsed two minutes later."
Handing Buffy a vial of some dark liquid, he said, "Drink."
She looked at it distastefully, and then returned to glowering at him, "You forget that I actually know what this tastes like. So… no way."
"Drink, or I drag Gimli in here to give you a lecture. And then send a letter to Elrond and the twins." Aragorn threatened.
She glared at him, but knew when she was beaten. "You are so mean." she snapped and then downed the liquid, grimacing at the awful taste.
He rubbed the salve in as the brew dragged her under, her eyelids drooping lower and lower until exhaustion took her under. After which, he promptly located her multitude of wounds and dressed them, shaking his head over her stubbornness. She would have kept going until she dropped, he thought fondly and with no small bit of exasperation.
When he was done, he gently covered her with a blanket and then dropped a soft kiss on her brow. Last night had been a step forward, even if she did not realise it yet. She had at last admitted something. And he had been totally shocked when Gandalf had quietly told him about the Ring of Fire debacle, and he wondered at her secrecy. Did she really think he would not have guarded her and her secret as he had done Frodo?
With one last look at the small woman who had captured his heart in ways he had not imagined, he closed the door softly behind him.
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At the noon bell, they gathered in the ruined courtyard of the keep of the Hornburg. The Rohirrim looked sadly at their fallen fortress, the survivors just looked relieved and slightly nauseated as they realised how it might have gone if luck had not been with them. Éowyn had already left for Dunharrow and now Éomer, to be crowned at Meduseld, was clad in the manner of a warrior king, even if he did not look fully comfortable in the role yet.
Buffy avoided Aragorn like the plague, a practice she had lots of experience in, and spent her time surreptitiously trying to torment Gandalf for spilling the beans to Aragorn. However, the ranger knew what she was doing and was content to let her until they could be alone. He had no doubts that she would not mind entering into a screaming match for the whole of Isengard to hear.
And so, their little group set off under the noon sun, and to her sadness, nobody seemed to see the irony in Buffy humming 'we're off to see the wizard' under her breath.
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Henneth Annûn, Ithilien, Gondor, 3019 TA, March 7.
Faramir watched the two hobbits, huddled together and whispering softly amongst themselves. Found by his rangers near an Easterling and Southron raid in Ithilien, they had been brought to Henneth Annûn with him.
His watching was interrupted by Madril, his lieutenant, "My Lord," he said quietly, "News has come in from the scouts."
Faramir nodded tightly, and let Madril draw him away to a secluded corner, "What news has come?" he asked.
Madril's face was grim as he looked at the map pinned onto the wall, "None of the news is good, my lord. Scouts have reported that the wizard Saruman has attacked Rohan from his stronghold of Isengard. They say that Théoden's people have fled to Helm's Deep and they also say that Théoden's heir was slain at a battle at the Fords of Isen, and that his nephew, Éomer, has been banished from the capital and he is the only other heir."
"What are their chances?" Faramir asked, studying the map.
"Théoden King has been waning for many years, my lord," Madril answered, "So their chances are not good. They are not prepared for any warfare. But we have no aid to send them Lord Faramir; we must look to our own borders. More orcs pass through Ithilien than we can keep track of. Easterlings and Southrons are passing through the Black Gate in droves. I fear that Sauron is marshalling an army."
"It is not a fear, but a reality," Faramir said quietly, "We have suspected this for some time now. By how many have his numbers been swelled?"
"Thousands, my lord," Madril replied tensely, "And more come every day. We attack what we can but it is never enough. He must have tens of thousands behind the Morannon."
Faramir did not reply. How could he? His father denied that Sauron had yet the strength to attack them, but he did not agree with the Steward. Many of the rangers in Ithilien and Osgiliath did not agree. They saw all too well what forces the Dark Lord had at his disposal. Even halflings from the far north were suspect.
No, the gathering of forces could only mean one thing. - Sauron was going to attack. And very soon. Ere he left, Boromir had warned that the last attack on Osgiliath had seemed almost easy, something not normally associated with orc raids. As the months had worn on, Faramir had found himself wondering whether it had not been to test their defences, and fool them into a false sense of security. For the numbers passing through the Black Gate were too great for Sauron to have pulled the attack on Osgiliath, and with it lose the closest bridge to the Pelennor. The one at Cair Andros was the second nearest and that was near the coast.
Feeling Madril's expectant gaze on him, he pulled himself out of his thoughts, "Who is covering the river to the north?" he asked, "Any attack will come there first."
"We had to pull five hundred men from Osgiliath," he said, "Reinforcements were needed in the city and your Lord father ordered them elsewhere. If Osgiliath is attacked, we will not hold it, my lord."
Faramir traced his finger along the map, thoughts and plans whirling nimbly through his head, "The two towers have aligned. Barad-dûr and Orthanc both attack the world of Men." he said thoughtfully, giving voice to them as they came to him, "Saruman attacks Rohan from Isengard. What aid can Théoden send us now? Rohan is set to be destroyed and Gondor's cavalry is weak. Sauron knows this. He will attack from Mordor and so the fight will come to men on both fronts. He seeks to divide us and then conquer us separately. He will strike soon… He has to. And he has to strike hard. He has to crush us to win. And I fear that he knows now that we do not have the strength to repel him…."
"My lord? What are your orders?" Madril asked, worried at his captain's assessment. Seldom was Faramir wrong on matters such as these, and the men under his command trusted him even if his Lord father did not. They knew that such a man did not come amongst them often. Indeed, to them, Faramir seemed more like one of the Númenórean lords of old, rather than any lesser man. Such was his foresight, skill, intelligence and compassion that had earned him the respect and devotion of nearly all who served under him.
Faramir looked at him wearily, "I have none as yet." he answered, rubbing his brow, "I need time to think and plan. And to puzzle out our mysterious guests. Leave me for now and see that the men rest and the scouts and sentries are assigned."
For a long while after Madril left, he tried to think of plans of war but ever did his mind turn to the halflings lurking in the corner. At last, he went over to them and was impressed by their spunk. Especially that of the stouter one, this Samwise Gamgee.
"So you say that you are not spies," he said, "But yet you cross a land that has been abandoned by those who once lived there and through which no idle travellers now cross. Why should I believe you when you refuse to tell me your purpose and errand? I cannot allow strangers with unknown purposes cross through Gondor at will. And with a skulking creature that you both deny meeting? Why should I believe you are innocent?"
Frodo and Sam shared an uncomfortable look and then Frodo spoke up, "We are not aligned with the Dark Lord. In fact, to hinder us is to help him. We set out on an errand from Rivendell with eight companions. Lord Elrond of the valley set us on this path and we have followed it though it has not been without sorrow and toil. One of our companions we lost in the depths of Moria. Another two of the company were my kin and I know not what has happened to them. A Dwarf and an Elf there were also. And one woman, and two men, Aragorn, son of Arathorn, and Boromir of Gondor."
It took all of Faramir's long experience and skill to hide his astonishment. This halfling had travelled with his brother? His slain brother? And to what end had he been involved in his death? "You knew Boromir?" he asked carefully, feeling at last that the answers to the riddle were now in front of him, "And were you his friend?"
He did not miss the way Frodo avoided his eyes, "I was, for my part." he replied uneasily, cementing Faramir's suspicions that something had happened between them. That this halfling somehow held the key to his elder brother's demise.
"I suppose then, that it would grieve you then to learn that Boromir was dead?" he asked and watched the hobbits' eyes widen in shock.
Frodo shook his head, "Dead?" he repeated in shock, "But how? When?"
Faramir wished that the surprise he saw in the halflings was not sincere for then he could take out his carefully repressed anger and grief on those who had led Boromir to his death. However, all he could sense from these two was honesty, and he was not like his father. He would not engineer the facts to suit his assumption. Whatever their faults may be, the hobbits were not murderers.
He sighed, "As one of his companions, I hoped you would tell me." he said quietly, "Have you no idea what happened? For his horn was found cloven in two, and I have seen his death in my dreams. I had hoped that you would at least be able to tell me something. For he was my brother."
Frodo's eyes widened in understanding, "Then I am doubly sorry," the hobbit said, "But I know nothing of how he died."
But before Faramir could inquire further as to the strange tone in the halfling's voice, like he had omitted something, Madril came and drew him away, leaving the haunted look in those blue eyes foremost in his mind.
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When Faramir returned it was with the cold knowledge of what had killed his brother and why. And when he overheard the hushed conversation between the halflings about the 'ring', he knew he was right.
As he entered the room, they got to their feet but Faramir was focused on the gold chain around Frodo's neck. Lifting it up with his blade, the One Ring dangled on the end as he had known it would be. "So this is the answer to all the riddles…" he said, "Two Hobbits carrying the Ring of Power begs disbelief. The Dark Lord would do anything for this. And yet to take it to the foothold of Mordor? And yet, here I have you in the wilds, with a host of men at my call…"
Seeing Frodo had frozen up, Sam tried to push Faramir back, "Leave him alone!" he demanded, "Don't you understand at all? Lord Elrond said we had to destroy it. That is where we are going. To Mordor. To the mountain of fire."
Faramir looked at the gardener, "Do you really think you can do it? You plan to march into Mordor, the Dark Lord's bastion, and destroy it under his very nose? This plan was why my brother died!" Please, he thought, do not let Boromir have fallen to the madness... Time spent in the library had taught him the allure of the One Ring.
But Sam did not bother to pull his punches, "Your brother died because he tried to take the Ring from Frodo! The Ring drove your brother mad! He attacked Frodo! Now, I do not know how he died, but he was alive when we last saw him so do not blame us! Whatever your brother did, he might have been drove to it, but we know nothing about it. Now let us go! Or are you going to try to take it too!"
"My father would greatly desire such a boon," Faramir said softly, looking at the innocent looking gold ring, "But I know what he would do with it. I know what ruin it causes. No, I do not desire to take the Ring from you. I do not want it for myself or for my country. But how can I let you go to Mordor when there is no hope of success? How can I let you carry the Ring of Power back to its master?"
"Because we have to try," Sam said, equally quietly, "We have to try. Lord Elrond believed in this. Gandalf the Grey believed in this. Your brother believed in this at the start. We cannot stop now. If we do not destroy it, then he will win anyway and what does it matter if he gets his hands on it. This is our only chance. Please do not take it away from us."
Faramir regarded them silently for a long moment, "You have a stout heart Samwise Gamgee," he said with respect, "And you have a terrible burden to bear Frodo Baggins. I think that at last we understand each other. And I shall not stand in your way any longer. Madril!" he called.
"Yes, my lord?" his lieutenant said, coming into the cave.
"Gather supplies for these two," Faramir said, startling the other man, "And then guide them out of here and leave them go. They shall have free passage through Ithilien."
Madril's mouth dropped open, "But my lord!" he cried, "You know the laws of our country, the laws of your father. If you let them go, your life will be forfeit."
Frodo's eyes widened again, and he looked nervously between the two men, but Faramir stood firm. He would not make the same mistake as his brother, nor would he allow himself to hinder this errand. He knew the price and he would pay it if need be. "Then it is forfeit," he said quietly but firmly, "See them well supplied and then release them."
Madril responded to the authoritive tone of his captain, though he glared at the hobbits as he did so, fearing that they would be the end of Faramir's life. "As you command, my lord."
"Farewell, Frodo, Sam," Faramir said, "And I wish you luck. The fate of much of Middle Earth rests on your shoulders now."
Even as a ranger rushed in, distracting him with bad news, - "My lord!" he cried, "Osgiliath is under attack! They call for reinforcements!" - he watched Madril lead them out.
He knew that it was highly likely that he would not see them again.
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The Last Homely House, Rivendell, 3019 TA, March 9.
"What do you mean Arwen is gone!" Elrond bellowed at Glorfindel, who had grudgingly lost the draw as to who would tell Elrond.
"Elrond," Glorfindel said soothingly, "Arwen broke away from her escort ere a day's travel had passed. They say she headed in the direction of the Redhorn Pass. That is all they know. But your daughter left of her own free will. What did you want them to do? Tie her up and strap her to the horse?"
"She is gone!" Elrond roared, stalking over to the window, "Gone Eru knows where! She is supposed to be safely in Círdan's hands! Or on a ship West! Not 'gone'!"
Erestor took this occasion to speak up, "She is your daughter, mellon. And Celebrían's. Did you really expect her to meekly follow orders?"
"It is not safe out there!" Elrond cried, sinking into a chair as despair overtook him, "Celebrían was harmed due to my folly, and the twins have ridden to war, and now Arwen has left for purposes unknown. Am I to lose everyone?"
Glorfindel moved closer to the grieving Peredhel, "Meldir," he said softly, "I am sure that Arwen knows what she is doing. She is a smart elleth, and a strong one. In fact, if anything should come upon her, you should feel pity for them for she will dispatch them with ease. You cannot dictate her choices, Elrond. If this was what she wanted to do, then nothing would have swayed her from her chosen course. She is very capable. Do not be afraid. If she heads for her brothers, or Lórien, then Galadriel or the twins will take care of her. You cannot allow yourself to dwell on the bad things."
Elrond did not reply and just covered his face with his hands, proud shoulders slumping, and outside the window, Erestor gaped at the storm that was rising outside. If Vilya was affected by Elrond's grief, then it was great indeed. But what if he could not control it?
"Elrond," he said urgently, "Calm yourself please, mellon. Vilya roars through the valley. Save your ire for your enemies, not your home. None of this was your fault. Please, be calm ere you lose anymore control."
Elrond looked up and seemed startled at what he beheld, his gaze drifting down to his hand, where the Ring of Air flashed brightly. Forcibly calming himself down, he watched as Vilya's wrath died away and the storm with it.
His shadowed gaze remained locked on the ring. Sauron would attack the valley. He was certain of it. And how could he hope to defend it if even Vilya was no longer reliable?
He honestly did not know.
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Isengard, 3019 TA, March 9.
When the party reached Isengard, they could see the smoke wafting up from it into the sky and when they actually came to the battered stone walls and wrecked iron gate, they goggled at the rather new and unusual gatekeepers on duty.
Even as Gandalf led them in, Merry staggered up from his perch, waving a bottle and bowing grandly in exaggerated obeisance, "Welcome, my Lords, my Lady, to Isengard! We would ask you to excuse the state of things, as we recently had some remodelling work done in here."
Gimli nearly knocked Legolas off Arod as he shook his fist at the two chortling hobbits, "You rascals!" he growled delightedly, "A merry hunt you have led us on, and now we find you, feasting and… and smoking!" the betrayed whine of the Dwarf had nearly everyone trying to hide their smirks and muffle their laughter, even Legolas who was looking at the pipeweed in disgust and wrinkling his nose.
Pippin stood up, "I will have you know that we are sitting on a field of victory, enjoying a few well-earned comforts. Which I think is deserved and don't you laugh at me Miss Buffy. On a side note, I found the salted pork particularly good."
That nearly had Gimli drooling, "Salted pork?" he repeated hopefully.
Gandalf just shook his head and playfully swatted at them with his staff, "Trust a Took and a Brandybuck…" he said.
"Hey!" Merry protested, "We are on duty here, I will have you know. We are under orders, from Treebeard, who has graciously taken over the management of Isengard."
"You mean, kicked Saruman's butt." Buffy said wryly, "A pity. I had hoped to have a go at it myself. Nice work though. The holes and the smoke are a nice touch. I hope they lobbed a few big rocks at him?"
Pippin shook his head, "Sadly no," he said in mock sorrow, "But I think we nearly smoked him out for a while there."
"Good for you," Gandalf said, putting an end to the banter, "Now where is Treebeard."
Merry pointed into the vale, chewing on a slice of salted pork that Gimli was eyeing with disturbing intensity. "That way."
Entering into the wrecked and ruined Isengard, the Ent soon spotted them and came over.
"Ah, young master Gandalf. I am glad you have come. Wood and water, stock and stone, I can master. But there is a Wizard to manage here, locked in his tower. "
"Gee, doesn't look so fearsome now, does he?" Buffy said, "Any chance of him coming down so I can kick his butt? I've got a few bruises I'm not happy with and I want to return them to him.
Gandalf gave her a long suffering look, "Be careful, Buffy. Even in defeat, Saruman is dangerous."
"I know that," she replied, "I'm just a little more confident than you that my mad can outwit his bad."
"I agree," Gimli said, "Let's just have his head and be done with it."
Gandalf shook his head and glanced at Éomer and Aragorn, "No, he is not to be killed. We need him alive. We need him to talk…"
"Good luck with that," Buffy said, eyeing the wizard peeking out from one of the upper windows of Orthanc, "'Cos it doesn't look like he plans on obliging you."
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Approaching the sleek stone tower of Orthanc, they dismounted and Gandalf banged on the doors with his staff. "Saruman!" he cried, "Come down! Saruman, come forth! Saruman!"
They were kept waiting so Buffy helpfully kicked at the door, making it rattle. "Get down here Saruman!" she yelled, "Or I'm coming in!"
At that, a window above them opened up, "What do you want?" Gríma Wormtongue hissed.
Éomer glared at him, "Well, Wormtongue." he called, "I have a matter to discuss with you concerning my uncle and sister. 'Tis gladdening that two such enemies are here, trapped and at our disposal. Go get Saruman, worm, since you threw your lot in with him. And make haste!"
Buffy glared at Aragorn as he sidled up next to her, "How much do you wanna bet that this means the trouble's about to start?"
"I do not bet against certainties," the ranger replied even as another figure, swathed in a grey cloak, came to the window. He spoke softly and Buffy felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up as she felt the layer of enchantment over it. Enchantment so that Saruman's voice seemed wise and reasonable, seemed pleasing and honest. "Well? Why must you disturb my rest? Will you give me no peace at all by night or day?" he said, sounding for all the world like somebody's grandfather.
"Cut the crap, Saruman," Buffy said, "And you listen here you sorry excuse for a wizard guy! You sicced a monster on me and now I have got a very large bone to pick with you! Preferably with something sharp."
"Come now," Saruman said, "Are you all here with murder in your eyes? Some of you at least I know by name. Gandalf I know too well to have much hope that he seeks help or counsel here. But you, Éomer King, I am surprised. With your uncle so lately dead do you come seeking death and destruction? Why have you not come before, and as a friend? And not like now, as an enemy. Will you trust in the evil counsel given to you or will you hearken to one that has always been a most steadfast ally? Is it yet too late to save you from this folly? Despite the injuries that have been done to me, in which the men of Rohan, alas, have some part, still I would save you, and deliver you from the ruin that draws nigh inevitably, if you ride upon this road you have taken. Indeed I alone can aid you now."
Éomer stared glassy eyed for a moment, and then shook his head, even as Gimli waved his axe and shook it at the still smug wizard. "The words of this wizard stand on their heads," he growled, gripping the handle of his axe. "In the language of Orthanc help means ruin, and saving means slaying, that is plain. But we do not come here to beg. But to return the 'favour' you claim to have done for Rohan. I think a meeting with the sharp end of my axe would be beneficial."
"Peace!" said Saruman, "I do not speak to you yet, Gimli Glóin's son. Far away is your home and small concerns of yours are the troubles of this land. But it was not my design that you became embroiled in them, and I will not blame such part that you have played - a valiant one, I doubt not. But I pray you; allow me first to speak with the King of Rohan, my neighbour, and once my friend. What have you to say, Éomer King? Will you have peace with me, and all the aid that my knowledge, founded in long years, can bring like your uncle did? Shall we make our counsels together against evil day, and repair our injuries with such good will that our estates both come to fairer flower than ever before?"
Éomer was silent for a long moment, marshalling his composure against his raging temper, "I did not come all this way after a grievous victory to bandy words with an old liar with honey on his forked tongue," he said calmly but strongly, "So would the trapped wolf speak to the hounds, if he could. You claim to give us aid? When you are a dealer in treachery and murder? Remember my cousin Theódred at the Fords, and the grave of Théoden king and Háma at Helm's Deep! Or do you deny your part in it? Was it perhaps the fault of an army of another wizard named Saruman? Or is the White Hand no longer your sigil? Do not seek to fool me with lies and honey, cretin. I feel nothing but disgust and hate for you."
"If we speak of poisoned tongues, what shall we say of yours, young serpent?" Saruman snarled, his own hold on his temper slipping, "Ever have you poured poison in your uncle's ear, telling lies and falsehoods about me and I have held my tongue against your bile. But come, Éomer, Éomund's son! To every man his part. Valour in arms is yours, and you win high honour thereby. But you are newly a king, and only through a chance of birth. Meddle not in politics too complex for you to understand! A king must choose his friends with care. The friendship of Saruman and the power of Orthanc cannot be lightly thrown aside, whatever grievances, real or fancied, may lie behind. You have won a battle but not a war - and that with help on which you cannot count on again. You may find the Shadow of the Wood at your own door next; it is wayward and senseless, and has no love for Men."
Éomer's hand slipped to the pommel of his sword as he listened to the words, the mockery underneath the enchantment clear to the young Lord of the Mark, "Will you not listen to your betters and make peace with me? For you do not have the wits to sustain the land of Rohan!"
"We will have peace," Éomer said strongly, seeing through the lies as he always had. "We will have peace, when you and all your works have perished - and the works of your dark master to whom you would deliver us. What will you say of your torches in the Westfold and the children that lie dead there? And they hewed Háma's body before the gates of the Hornburg, after he was dead. We shall have peace when you answer for the burning of the Westfold and the children that lie dead there. We shall have peace when the lives of the soldiers whose bodies were hewn even as they lay dead against the gates of the Hornburg, are avenged. When you hang from a gibbet from your window for the sport of your own crows, I will have peace with you and Orthanc. Your voice has lost its charm, snake."
Instantly, Saruman's face twisted into an ugly sneer and a cold rage was visible there, "Gibbets and crows!" he hissed at Éomer, "Fool! What is the House of Eorl but a thatched barn where brigands drink in the reek, and their brats roll on the floor amongst the dogs? Too long have they escaped the gibbets themselves! But the noose comes, slow in the drawing, tight and hard in the end. Hang if you will! And what do you want, Gandalf Greyhame? Let me guess... The Key of Orthanc or perhaps the Keys of Barad-dûr itself, along with the crowns of the seven kings and the rods of the Five Wizards!"
"I am no longer what Gandalf the Grey, whom you betrayed." Gandalf said levelly, "I am Gandalf the White, who has returned from death. You have no colour now, and I cast you from the order and from the Council."
"And about time too." Buffy taunted, "I bet that it burned when you realised that Galadriel wanted Gandalf to head the White Council, not you. Do you think that anyone ever cared about you? You're just a pathetic little man, who thinks that he and his ego can rule what he likes and has to yet to realise that he's too stupid to ever do so."
"And so you bring the witch with you, Gandalf?" Saruman snarled, "And then you accuse me of foul plots. What is this one but a spawn of Sauron? Is it not her fault that Théoden is dead?"
"The fault was never mine and always yours, Saruman," Buffy replied coldly, "Do not blame me for your doings. I'm only here to settle a debt. I believe I owe you pain. And lots of it."
"And you think that you can defeat a wizard, little girl?" Saruman said, "Do not think that I do not know what you are. A liar, a cheat and a murderer. Is not right? An assassin by trade and by choice. But you are no threat to me."
"Strange then that you seemed so intent on killing me," Buffy said, hazel eyes hard and determined, "Where you did get the woman, Saruman?"
"Met her did we? I had wondered," Saruman said with a cold laugh, "A pity she did not finish you. But she did have her uses."
"Where did she come from?" Buffy asked again.
"From Udûn." Saruman said, "From horrors you cannot imagine."
"My whole life is full of horrors." Buffy replied easily, "Try me. But I somehow think that all your information comes from Sauron, and I don't really trust Dark Lords. They tend to lie a lot. And what's he going to do when he finds out about this mess, eh, Saruman? You're dead already and you know it. You can't run, the Nazgûl would only hunt you down. You don't have many options left and you have to know it. So mock me all you want. But you're living on borrowed time."
Saruman watched the cold fire in her eyes and then his own eyes widened as he spotted the glint of something on her hand. No! It could not be! Seeking out Gandalf, he spotted the absence of the very thing he had longed for. Gandalf had given Narya to a mortal! How could he! Not even Sauron knew of his long lust for what had been given to Gandalf, his inferior, but denied to him and now to find that it had been given to a mere slip of a mortal!
But Gandalf spoke up then, turning his attention away from her, "Your treachery has already cost many lives. Thousands more are now at risk. But you could save them, Saruman. You were deep in the Enemy's counsel. Tell us what you know. Redeem yourself."
Saruman scoffed at him, "So you have come here for information. How trite. But I have some for you," he said holding out a palantír, and images swirled around in the bright glass. "Something festers in the heart of Middle Earth. Something that you have failed to see. But the Great Eye has seen it. Even now, he presses his advantage while you flounder. His attack will come soon. He has been ready for many a year and now you fall all over yourselves trying to stop the inevitable. You are all going to die. But you know this, do you not, Gandalf? And so you brought a witch that will see the dungeons of Barad-dûr closer than she ever wished…. An Elf Prince who strays far from home? What armies have been set against your father in his Wood, elfling? Your home will not last the month. And you also have a rabid pack of barnyard men… You cannot think that this ranger, will ever sit upon the throne of Gondor. This exile… crept from the shadows, will never be crowned king. One who ran away from his duties once before…. Exile, hearken to me, Gandalf does not hesitate to sacrifice those closest to him… those he professes to love. Tell me, what words of comfort did you give the halfling… Before you sent him to his doom? The path that you have set him on can only lead to death. You knew it then and you know it now."
His words set all their tempers on edge, and Gimli tried to coax Legolas to shoot him but the Elf's common sense refused, but his mind played on the ominous words regarding his father.
Buffy whispered to Aragorn, "They have reached Gondor; Aragorn." she said urgently, "Denethor's palantír is the nearest one. They have to have reached Gondor. They are nearly there!"
Aragorn nodded at her words, agreeing with her assessment. Beside him, Gandalf once more tried to talk sense into the wizard, "Come down, Saruman, and your life will be spared. I promise you."
"Save your pity and your mercy. I have no use for it!" he raised his staff and even as he lifted it, Buffy could feel…. something gather strength and even as it was released, she instinctively blocked it. The fire swirled towards Gandalf but died before it could reach him.
Saruman stared at it in shock and then spun to glare at Buffy, raising his staff again, but from the corner of his eye, he saw Gandalf raise his own staff and in another window, he saw Gríma hurl the discarded palantír at his rival. "NO!" he roared at the hapless man.
Spinning away from the window, he disappeared from sight. From below, Gandalf tried again to reach him, "Saruman! You were deep in the Enemy's counsel. Tell us what you know!" Sighing, he turned away when he received no answer. "His own malice and ambition has poisoned him forever. He would rather hide in his tower than do anything to redeem himself. If he will not aid us, then a prisoner here he must remain."
In the water, Pippin saw the orange glow and curiosity caused him to pick up the round ball. Even as he tried to get a decent look at it, Gandalf was there, sweeping it out of his hands.
Gandalf moved away to talk to Treebeard then, the round ball tucked under his arm, and as the crowd moved away from the doors, no one noticed the side entrance of Orthanc open and a stealthy figure slip out.
Spotting something in the water, Buffy went down and pulled out the small brown bag, heavy with some powder inside it. Recognising it instantly, she shoved it into her pack discreetly and so failed to notice someone approach behind her.
Aragorn turned around and seeking out Buffy to question her about her hunch regarding Frodo, he spotted her peril before she did. "Buffy!" he yelled, "Behind you!"
Instantly, Buffy pivoted, and barely missed the blade that had been set to plunge into her back. Saruman lunged at her, staff swinging as he dropped the knife, "The Ring is mine!" he hissed.
Even as she dodged his first blow, a blast of power knocked her off her feet and sent her flying and as the wizard advanced on the dazed slayer, a glowing sword sliced his staff in two. Andúril to the rescue again... Even as the wizard made to finish the job, roaring in a combination of madness and rage that a lust for power had generated, Aragorn neatly sliced off his head, dispelling the threat once and for all.
Buffy got up from the water, shaken and staring at the dead wizard, the water around him colouring a vibrant red. "Guess we won't have to worry about him anymore," she said shakily, "Thank you." she said to Aragorn.
The ranger just glared at the fallen wizard and thanked the Valar that he had been in time as he helped Buffy up.
Gandalf came over to them, and his glance encompassed the Ring on Buffy's finger and the dead body in the water. "And so it ends," he said, "He had potential to do good but his own ambition would not let him. And so his time in Middle Earth ends."
"And good riddance," added Gimli.
"Come," Gandalf said, "We have not the time for this. The Enemy moves against us. We need to know where he will strike…"
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Dol Baran, Rohan, 3019 TA, March 9, - evening.
That night, they camped at Dol Baran, sombre with the preparations for war. Éomer knew what Gandalf would ask of him and so had retreated to his bedroll ere the wily wizard could corner him, Elfhelm preventing anyone from disturbing his liege.
Buffy and Aragorn sat in silence, the air heavy between them with the tension of a talk to come, a decision to be made and the relief of a disaster averted.
But when Buffy suddenly stiffened, Aragorn took notice. "What is it?" he asked.
"Trouble." she said, looking upwards. Gandalf followed her lead and soon all could see the dark winged shape growing closer and then suddenly came a shriek that pierced the hearts of all present and only experience and determination could keep some of them on their feet, most falling to the ground in fear.
Across the camp, Gandalf's face paled, and he whirled around even as Éomer came tumbling out of his tent, still clad in his armour and with sword raised.
The Nazgûl wheeled overhead, and both it and its beast's shrieks split the silence of the night. It was a warning, and a promise.
Even as it took off, heading back towards Gondor, Gandalf was in action, urging the camp to pack up and move off, that they must leave. "Nazgûl!" he cried in dismay, even as Éomer demanded to know what by Eorl that creature had been, "The messenger of Mordor!" Éomer's face paled too at the wizard's words. He too had heard the many tales of the Nine, the Black Riders, the dreaded Ringwraiths…
Gandalf jumped on Shadowfax, pulling Merry up in front of him as they made ready, "The storm is coming!" he shouted, "The Nazgûl have crossed the river! Ride, ride! Wait not for the dawn! Let not the swift wait for the slow! Ride!"
War was upon them all.
They knew what it meant…
Sauron was heading for Gondor….
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A/N: Well? What do you guys think? Was it a fitting end for a scoundrel? Please READ and REVIEW!
Next chapter: The return to Edoras…. A funeral and a feast… Some talk…. A hard choice for Buffy… And a disaster for a hobbit….
Elvish:
Dagnir - slayer
Meleth - love
Adar - father
Henneth Annûn - the Window on the West
Mellon - friend
Peredhel - Half-Elven
meldir - friend
Elleth - Elf-maid
Andúril - Flame of the West
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Celebrían - Galadriel and Celeborn's daughter. Wife of Elrond. Mother to Elladan, Elrohir and Arwen. Sailed West in 2510 after being attacked by orcs in 2509.
Círdan - also called 'the Shipwright'. Lord of the Grey Havens. The only Elf with a beard.
Dunharrow - Fortified refuge in the Ered Nimrais. It is the mountain refuge of the people of Rohan. And the entrance to the Paths of the Dead is there.
Gríma Wormtongue - Counsellor of King Théoden and agent of Saruman.
Henneth Annûn - 'Window of the Sunset'. name of a cave behind a waterfall in Ithilien.
Hornburg - fortress in Rohan at the entrance to Helm's Deep
House of Eorl - the House of the Kings of Rohan. Named after Eorl the Young who first settled in Rohan, and was their first leader.
Istari - the Maiar who were sent from Aman in the Third Age to resist Sauron. Sindarin: Ithryn.
Meduseld - the Golden Hall of Edoras, in Rohan. The residence of the King and the court.
Morannon - The Black Gate of Mordor.
Moria - 'The Black Chasm', later name for the great works of the Dwarves under the Misty Mountains. Called Khazad-dûm in Dwarvish.
Mundburg - 'Guardian Fortress'. name in Rohan of Minas Tirith.
Narya - the Ring of Fire. Set with a ruby stone. One of the Three Elven Rings. Originally given to Círdan, it was passed onto Gandalf when he arrived in Middle Earth during the Third Age.
Orthanc - the great Númenórean tower in the Circle of Isengard. Home of Saruman.
Osgiliath - Was once the capital of Gondor. But during the War of the Kin-Strife (a rebellion during the time of kings around the 1430's.) it was laid siege to by the rebels and burned to ruins in 1437.
Palantír - one of the seven seeing stones that were scattered throughout Gondor and Arnor during the reign of Elendil. For the last few centuries, they have been considered unsafe to use as it is believed that one of them is in the possession of Sauron.
Vilya - the Ring of Air. Strongest of the three Elven Rings made by Celebrimbor. Borne by Elrond.
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