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. Now, it seems that the Pelennor has been won… But at a cost some might not have been willing to pay…. The Battle is won, but the War is not. Can the people of Middle Earth topple Sauron? And can Frodo and Sam now avoid the chase? Will the ringbearer reach Mount Doom, or will he be cut down before he reaches his goal? And in the aftermath of everything, can anything bloom?

Author's notes: Okay, quite a few of you are suspicious of me. And rightly so. Enjoy the chaos!

P.S – just to clear something up. No chapter of this fic has ever been written in advance. Sadly, I am not that organized. So the chapters are posted as I finish them. Hence, why there have been delays recently. Also, none of the sequel is written. Even the name is provisional! RL can really suck sometimes!

P.S.2 – Check out the name vote at the end of the chapter please!

Review responses:

Allen Pitt – loose change? Sadly, no. and you are the first person to catch on to something about Boromir. My congratulations. So yes, trouble still abounds.

Arcrose – oh, you know me by now. Of course I had to leave it there! And you never know, the sequel could have featured Buffy the Ghost. The Black Gates… you're not on the right track there on one matter… just a little hint…

Azraeos – reaction to Buffy's predicament? The city's destruction? Or the various unwelcome guests the city hosted?

Boo – thanks! Vitamin c chewables? What happened to good ol' fashioned chocolately goodness?

Broken Whispers – thank you! Okay, titbits… Yes, the bond has a role to play. And yes, the names I gave were two authors. Oh, and try Lisette too.

ChibiChibi – thanks! Okay, Aragorn released the ghosts. They won't be coming back. And they definitely didn't know that they saved Buffy. Hence why they didn't tell Aragorn. And Balrogs can't all have dramatic ends. Besides, I thought getting crushed so easily was fitting. And yes, it was Gandalf and Pippin who launched the rock at it. Wasn't it nice of them to help out?

Devine-desire - only fell out of the chair? I apologise and try to do better next time. And I love writing the twins! Mainly because it's free flowing banter and all out insults, with a few pranks and follies thrown in for good measure. They are always two characters that cheer a person up! Well, me at least.

Dreamer Child – Forgiven. On parole of future good behaviour! And I could have meant the name posthumously!

EoSpHoRuS – thanks! Nice to hear from you! Yes, you did make sense. But sadly, it's Éomer's predicament and Théoden can't get him out of it.

Geweldigenoten – There will be a summary of the sequel in the last chapter of this story.

Gregdoreza – thanks! Where did I learn it? Don't really know, I think my muse took some lessons from the Source of All Evil though… or was it the Grim Reaper? Glad you liked the chapter anyway! And yes, Buffy is definitely used to aliases by now. And I think it would have to be Elvish styled. All the really good ones are Elvish styled… And after wondering for a while, what do all the initials after your name mean? If you don't mind me asking…

HeeroYuyZ – I did not choose the pairing because it was convenient or I could think of none better. I could have used Elladan, Elrohir, Éomer, Legolas, Faramir, Boromir, Glorfindel, Gandalf, Gamling, Théoden, Théodred etc. I picked the pairing because I wanted to do something original and because it intrigued me to see if it could be done and done well. I'm sorry if you don't like it but everyone is entitled to their opinion. I don't think it loses its charm. Because I think its charm always lay in that the world was so detailed that it seemed so realistic. I am committed to making things realistic and would never make things unrealistic by choosing the easy way out.

James – I'll see what I can do!

JuliansGIrl – well, I do try!

Lady of the Wood – Long time no see! Welcome back! Hope you vote on a name!

Lali-chan – thank you! Good comment on my evil tendencies though. I do think the readers must really pity (or else enjoy) Aragorn's luck in this story. Uh, Buffy can die. Remember the Master, the events in the gift, the little disaster in Moria… She can die. Don't make me prove it. Again. Still, this chapter should give you some hope. Kiss? Sorry, no big romantic smoochies until both are conscious at the very least! But I do have my reasons so trust me. Besides I have to keep everyone on their toes or maybe I'm just plain evil… not sure yet. As for unforeseen consequences, I do tend to like them. And you are probably right in your estimation. I'm cruel. I like to see them suffer. And definitely no Willow. Well, hope this chapter tides you over in lieu of the 'Kiss'…

Light Spinner – no, they haven't. I haven't beaten up Imrahil at all… hmmm….

liit06 – thanks! And I make a habit of being sneaky. This is not a soap opera where you know what's going to happen next before the scriptwriters do. I make misdirection my business and enjoy the fact that I can be surprising. No, Éomer didn't get out from under the horse. You have to appreciate the irony. The Horse-Lord felled by his own mount… if it wasn't such a serious matter, imagine the humiliation… happy Labour Day? Sorry, live in Ireland. Am not even sure I even know what it is…. But thanks for the sentiment!

Lizzie – Do I really like cliffhangers? I think that was blasphemy!

Maleficus Lupinus – chocolates, are as usual, always appreciated…

Mari – thank you! What Arwen gave her was a gesture from a long time. Both of them have changed a lot since then. Yes, you're right. Buffy's not dead. Yet. And I can't tell you about the Battle of the Black Gates yet. I don't want to give it away!

Ophira – thank you! Action scenes are hard. I suppose I did do research into the LotR world once upon a time but I kinda know a lot of it now so it's not that hard. Glad you like my fic anyway!

Pawsonscroll – thanks for all the reviews if you're up this far yet! And havoc is a bit of an understatement. By now, most of your questions have been answered in the course of the story so if you have reached this chapter I hope you have enjoyed 'FK' so far.

Reyavie – thank you! Well, I thought the boulder was a rather non dramatic end to the Balrog and thus fitting in the absolute absurdity of its plainness. And yes, Dark Lord's don't tend to give their enemies a break. They probably have tormenting them worked into their schedule along with all the maiming and killing they do regularly. And I was going for the surreal feel to the twins and Legolas's conversation. I thought the whole ridiculousness factor of them arguing over such trivialities in the middle of the battle for Gondor was just too good an opportunity to pass up. And I'm only gaining Sauron's traits?! I'm insulted. My muse is insulted. I surpassed his evilness a long time ago! Hey, for 56 chapters I've been the mastermind of his evilness!

Santos Black – thanks! Glad you appreciate it! And to tell the honest truth, I'm looking forward to writing some fluff.

Silence – let's hope that no one ever has to try to remember all of their names then!

smileyblu7 – hi! Thanks! Magnitude? Well, so far, the last chapter is clocking in at number 63… and I really didn't want Buffy to steal Éowyn's thunder. Éowyn earned her place in ME history and I wasn't going to take it off my spunky little Shieldmaiden. And at least one of your questions is answered in this chapter as Aragorn and Buffy finally come face to face….

Spammer – what has powdered dragon tooth to do with healing?

Spk – From experience, pins and needles can be uncomfortable! So here's the reprieve!

Tombadgerlock – Thanks! Okay, in this fic, coming down hard on the Scoobies was necessary because Buffy would end up never seeing them again. It was pivotal for my plot that she accepted ME as her new home and she couldn't do that if she was carrying ghosts around with her. It's true, I don't like Dawn. I suppose that after five years of watching Buffy, I got annoyed with Dawn's character. And I am very fond of the Willow of the first five seasons, but in season 6 onwards, she kinda goes off the deep end and I want the sparkly Willow of before back.

tenshikoneko03 – Of course the twins and Legolas are crazy. I believe most of the Elven royals are certifiably insane. Pitch forks? Do you even own a pitch fork?

Tsuki no Yasha – thank you! Let's hope the fluffiness lives up to expectations….

And major thanks to:

Athene Saile, CMKM1648, d347hbyp45510n, General Mac, Goldenshadows, Lady Meridia, mad-catt, Nicole, peacockgal17, RedsLover03, Selene, The Great and Powerful Oz, The Lady Reaper of the Shadows, Wild320, XinnLajgin,

CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX: DEATH SHALL HAVE NO DOMINION

"For death begins with life's first breath,
And life begins at touch of death."
- John Oxenham

The Pelennor Fields, Minas Tirith, Gondor, 3019 TA, March 17.

The battle may have been won, but the aftermath was far from pleasant.

Having passed his time fruitlessly shoving at Firefoot, with Éowyn – ghostly pale and too still – near him but out of reach, Éomer was left weeping bitter tears.

He had lost his uncle and King at Helms Deep and when he had ridden out to war once more, he had been comforted to know that his sister, the sole family he had left, the last of the House of Eorl, was safe in the shelter of Dunharrow; unable to jump recklessly into some suicidal scheme. He had known that if the worst had come to the worst, then Éowyn would lead their people and keep them safe against the coming storms.

He had never dreamed of this end…

He scarce paid any attention to the cries of shock from Gamling, who had been methodically searching for his king, only cognizant of the fact that suddenly he was being pulled out from under a trembling Firefoot. Not hearing the entreaties from his men who wanted to know whether he had taken any hurt, he near crawled over to the still form of his sister, his feet numb from lack of blood flow due to Firefoot's not inconsiderable weight.

"No, Éowyn," he pleaded, even as he gently turned her over, ignoring the gasps of shock and horror from the Rohirrim there gathered, who had not noticed his sister in their haste to help Éomer, "Why did you do it, you silly girl?" he choked out as he clutched her to him, fearing her dead, and he very nearly sagged with relief when he saw the slight rise and fall of her chest.

She yet lived….

Cradling her, he tried to stagger up on wooden legs and only Elfhelm and Gamling's steadying hands kept him from falling right down again. "My king," Elfhelm said, shaking him slightly, "Éomer, you will do no good if you drop her. Let me carry her."

Éomer glared at them defiantly and took one wobbling step, "I can do it!" he exclaimed, "I have to do it… She saved me…"

Elfhelm looked at the all too familiar helm and robes and the dead fell beast not far off, and though he could scarcely credence it, it seemed that some great evil had been defeated. When Gamling had said that he had been separated from the King, that the Witch-king had come for Éomer, he had not expected to find the man still alive. He had feared that the Rohirrim would be King-less once more, with only Éowyn left to rule, far away in Dunharrow. Too far away to change the course of battle.

But as he saw the young woman in her brother's arms, he still could not fathom how she had slipped out of the safety of the mountain refuge and come away to war with them. "She did this?" he said, gesturing towards what seemed to be the remnants of the Morgul Lord.

"Aye," Éomer ground out, "She killed him… She is dying because of me."

He seemed to be unaware that he was not uninjured himself and that he was swaying like a reed in the breeze, and Elfhelm would have betted that the only thing that was keeping him up was concern for his sister. He placed a hand on his arm soothingly, "I will take the Lady Éowyn," he said firmly, "You look ready to fall down and though you may be king, no one will follow your orders in this state. Sometimes young men do not know what is best for them."

Éomer looked indignant but as he wobbled again and his grip on Éowyn tightened as he regained his balance, he nodded and reluctantly surrendered his only living relative and the one dearest to him into the care of the Marshal. Elfhelm carefully grasped her, easily lifting her weight, and made to make haste to the Houses of Healing when Éomer said to Gamling, "Wait," he said, "Éowyn was not the only one who sneaked onto the battlefield. Merry came too. And he fought valiantly. He lies over there. I know not what happened but he stabbed the fell wraith and his sword broke and thus he fell. He is a Squire of Rohan. Help him."

And so with the last remaining members of the House of Eorl and one injured hobbit being led away by a clutch of Rohirrim, it was a sombre and strange procession that rushed into the Houses of Healing minutes later.

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While Elladan and Elrohir almost immediately offered their assistance as healers after the battle was done, Aragorn had to fend off curious overtures from the defenders of Gondor, who knew very well what the banner he had carried before him meant. Indeed, this confirmation of the multitude of rumours they had heard over the past few days led them to believe every rumour concerning Isildur's Heir. Curiosity burning, they watched him with measuring, considering eyes, and he felt all the weight of their stares.

He was inordinately pleased when a very much relieved Imrahil of Dol Amroth came forth with the White Wizard and Pippin close on his heels, for all intents and purposes unharmed, and thus gave him a chance to escape his watchers. Aragorn very nearly sagged in relief himself at the sight of his friends hale and whole, "Gandalf!" he called happily, embracing the wizard, "It heartens me to see you well, old friend. I had feared we might not get here in time."

"Indeed, your aid was impeccably timed," Gandalf said, "Things were getting quite strained at that point. The lower levels are already a mess and only your timely intervention saved the upper levels from the same fate. Alas for us, Sauron sent no few surprises to trouble the city and most of them were vanquished by our own Dagnir. Speaking of Buffy, where is she? Or is she avoiding you again?"

Aragorn felt his throat go inexplicably dry, "She was not with you?" he asked, his concern leaking through despite his efforts to contain it.

Gandalf's eyes softened in understanding of his anxiety, "The last time I saw her, she was on the Pelennor with Faramir, son of Denethor, distracting a Balrog which soon after died most unexpectedly. I have seen Faramir once since then, but not Buffy. I do not think she returned to the city during the battle."

Aragorn's heart skipped a beat and the nagging feeling in his mind came back with a vengeance. By Elbereth, no, he prayed silently, even as he started to feel the first stirrings of panic within him. He tried to reassure himself that she was probably fine and off chastising some poor soldiers for lacklustre effort.

He was so lost in thought that Gandalf had to nudge his arm to gain his attention; "Aragorn?" the wizard said softly, "What is it you plan to do now? You have conquered under the King of Gondor's banner. And rumours went ahead of you of your coming. The people that remain already talk of you as the Heir of Isildur, come to claim the throne, and as Minas Tirith's people come back from the country, they too will learn of you. What is your plan?"

Aragorn was silent for a long moment, and he looked at the city as if it held the answer to his questions, but when he spoke, his voice was firm, "This city has rested in the charge of the Stewards for long years," he said, "And I fear that if I enter it unbidden, then fear and doubt may arise which should not be while this war is not yet ended. I will not enter in, nor make any claim, until it shall be seen whether we shall prevail against the might of Mordor. Men shall pitch my tents upon the field and I shall await the welcome of the Lord of the City."

"Yes," Gandalf said thoughtfully, "About that. Denethor met with an unfortunate… accident. He is dead, Aragorn. I believe that leaves Faramir as the only steward left in the city."

"Dead?" Aragorn said in surprise, "How did that happen? I did not think Denethor would be so foolish as to leave the city."

Gandalf was going to reply but Pippin beat him to it, "Buffy accidentally killed him when he nearly told the Witch-king where Frodo and Sam were."

"What?!" Aragorn exclaimed, "Buffy killed Denethor? Accidentally? How is that even possible? Is she unhurt?"

Gandalf glared at Pippin for his tactless telling of the tale, muttering insults under his breath, "Denethor attacked her and ran himself onto her own sword. His own folly killed him, one could say. He had all the sense of babe when it came to the management of the city."

Aragorn was quiet as he thought of the consequences of such an end, and their effect on the woman he loved, "Buffy would not have seen it so." He said at last, "Does she avoid Denethor's kin? Or is it only me she does not want to see?"

"I cannot say," Gandalf said, "For I do not know. She went to the lower levels early on to deal with no few threats. You may not have noticed, seeing as they were dead before you arrived, but Sauron sent dragons and Balrogs with his army. They did much damage before they were brought down and I understand that the Rammas Echor is little more than rubble now."

Aragorn cast his eye towards the mostly collapsed wall, "Aye," he agreed, "All of the Pelennor's defences are mightily breached."

"Prince Imrahil!" a voice cried out, as a young woman ran up to them, panting heavily. Her garb identified her as an apprentice of the Houses of Healing, "Prince Imrahil! Lord Mithrandir! Urgent news!" As she staggered to a stop beside them, she spotted Aragorn and gave a rather undignified squeak before sweeping a deep curtsy, "My lords, Lord Faramir has been found badly injured inside the city!" she exclaimed breathlessly, "The healers say they that some darkness weighs him down. And two more with the same affliction have been brought in, my lords! The Lady Éowyn was borne in by her brother the King, and a Halfling was brought in soon after. Please, Lord Mithrandir, they want you most urgently."

Imrahil was aghast, "Faramir?" he repeated, "And the Lady Éowyn? Of Rohan? What in the name of the White Tree was she doing here? Did even the women of Rohan come to fight for Gondor?"

Aragorn was even more dismayed, for he recognised the condition, the darkness, that held them – the deadly Black Wraith that was the curse of all those who came into too close a contact with one of the Nine. But what drove him to despair was the mention of Faramir's name – Faramir, who had last seen Buffy. Turning to the girl, he asked urgently, "And a lady called Buffy?" he demanded, "Was she brought in as well?"

"The Lady Buffy, my lord?" the girl said faintly, "No, not that I know, my lord. Are you really Isi---"

She was caught off by Aragorn abruptly turning and stalking away. Gandalf sighed at his going and turned to the girl, "Well, lead on!" he said, "I shall see what I can do."

"But my lord!" she cried, "What about the king?! That was the King, yes?"

"He has his own errand to accomplish ere he shall be any good to anybody else," Gandalf said knowingly, "He shall not come near the city until he finds what he seeks…"

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Aragorn could scarcely remember when he had felt such panic before.

He would have been calmer if he was told he had to storm Barad-dûr by himself. He knew Buffy. And she never disappeared after the battle was done. Whatever the circumstances, she seemed to always end up in the thick of things. Buffy did not give up, and nor did she value her own life highly. The latter was a flaw that he despised. How could she not see what she meant to him and to those who cared for her?

No, he could feel that nagging feeling in his mind and something told him that it had to do with Buffy, that something was dreadfully wrong. He had no option but to trust it. He could not stave off the image of Buffy lying hurt and bleeding somewhere. And so he stalked the battlefield, desperately searching for any sign of the slight blonde figure and following a vague pull that seemed to be steering his path. He had never felt it so clearly before, and trying to reason out why he should feel it now brought a new kind of terror.

He could not lose Buffy. Not now. Not when victory, their victory, was in sight and a bright future seemed finally to be within their grasp. The impish, aggravating slayer had stolen his heart long before he knew of it. Losing Arwen had been painful but time had let him see that his foster sister had happily avoided what would have been a dreadful mistake. With Arwen, he would have condemned her to a mortal life, and in the blink of an Elven eye, to the grave. He would have torn her from her family, her people, and her birthright. But with Buffy… camaraderie had deepened to friendship and that friendship had come to love, until the very thought of her being in danger stole the breath from his lungs. He wanted to show Buffy his love for her; he wanted to give her a home, a family, and the honours she deserved. He knew she returned his feelings, and only her own unique sense of honour held her back. But he was determined to fight for her.

And he would not allow her to be taken away from him.

She had paid her dues, and if any sought to bring harm to her, they would have to go through him first.

Because he truly did not know what he would do if she died…

As he concentrated on it, the bond pulsed faintly in his mind, his only clue to where Buffy now was. It was weak but it was all he had to follow. By the Valar, let her be alright, he prayed. He walked past the many bodies of the dead, from their side and the enemy's, but he could not force himself to stop for any of them. The need he felt in the back of his mind kept growing stronger, as if time was of the essence.

And so he kept going, ignoring the blood and the death, and the great swath of destruction that was the Pelennor Fields and kept going, desperately hoping against hope that Buffy would appear out of nowhere, alive and unharmed, but then he looked at the great carcass of a dead dragon across the field and knew that his hope was a slim one indeed. For if such creatures had threatened Minas Tirith, there was no doubt in his mind that Buffy would have been the first one to go out and hunt them. He knew she had left the safety of the walls. He knew what the odds were. But despite the likelihood of disaster, he remembered Buffy at the Battle of Helms Deep and hoped to Eru himself that she was no worse off than she had been in the great fortress of Rohan.

Then suddenly, the gentle tug became an insistent yank and he knew he was close. He scanned the ground around him and then about twenty feet away, he saw her and his heart nearly gave out.

The image that he saw seared its way into his heart and would haunt his nightmares for years…

His legs shaky, they carried him forward as fast as they could, and with a cry of pain and horror he dropped onto his knees beside her still form.

Even as he shook his head in denial, his wide eyes registered the deathly pallor of her face; the way one arm hung limply, her golden hair spread in a pool of blood, the harsh, shallow, gasping breaths, the dark bruises, and the gaping wound in her midsection. One hand held her sword, slippery with blood, the weight pressing on the wound, stemming the crimson flow somewhat. That pressure was likely the only thing keeping her alive. As if mocking him, the Ring of Barahir hung loosely around her neck. He had not even known that she wore it. He wondered at its meaning and knew he might never get the chance to ask her why.

Carefully, he removed his cloak and folded it into a thick square; he threw the sword aside and pressed the cloth down over the wound, applying enough pressure to slow the bleeding. Using her belt to hold it in place, he spared no time to examine her further. There was no time. Buffy was dying and he had to get her to the Houses of Healing. He was not going to let her die!

Gently, mindful of her injuries, he put a hand under her back and her knees and lifted her carefully, cradling her against him and then once she was securely in his grasp, he took off at a run for the Houses of Healing, praying that he was not too late and cursing himself at the same time for chasing her off to Gondor with Gandalf.

Tears welled up in his eyes and pain smote his heart as he clutched his dying love to him, holding her as carefully as one would a newborn babe, and he whispered comforting words to the unconscious slayer, imploring her to fight, to stay with him, to hold on just a little while longer…

As he sped onward, ignoring any who saw him, only one thought went through his head that was not about how to save her….

Sauron would pay…

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He crashed through the doors with all the finesse of a Mûmak.

Heads swivelled towards him as the doors banged into the wall, cracking the plaster behind him, but he took no notice of his stares, intent on finding what he was looking for. Despite the woman dangling in his arms, no one immediately approached him because of his wild look. Nearby, Gandalf poked his head out a room and spotted the cause of the commotion.

The wizard's eyes widened at the sight of Buffy, and Pippin, peeking out from behind him, was openly goggling, but luckily for all involved, the wizard kept his composure. "Aragorn!" he called, "Bring her over here!"

Within seconds, Buffy was deposited on a bed and Gandalf had corralled Elladan and Elrohir, the two imps having been trained by Elrond, and the three brothers were examining her. Aragorn's hands shook as he catalogued the multitude of injuries inflicted upon one so beloved to him, and as he carefully touched her shoulder, seeking the wound beneath, he was forced to snatch his hand back as all too familiar cold flashed through him. Cursing, he ripped back her sleeves to see the foul wound. "From a Nazgûl blade," he hissed.

Elrohir immediately yanked him out of the way to inspect it for himself, "Another one, then…" he muttered, carefully prodding at the wound.

"Another one?" Aragorn asked.

Elladan nodded, "Lord Faramir, Lady Éowyn of Rohan and Merry are also stricken. All suffer under the Black Breath but none have a wound from a wraith's blade. But they are all drowning under darkness. I fear that we have not our father's skill. I do not know if we can bring them back. And we have already had to send out runners to find any athelas they could lay their hands on. These… Houses of Healing never use it."

"Lady Éowyn? And Merry?" Aragorn repeated, having almost forgotten about them in his grief, "What are they doing here? I thought Éomer had left them in Dunharrow." he asked, taking a hold of Buffy's hand,

"They came to fight," Gandalf said, "And the Lady of Rohan proved Glorfindel's words true. She killed the Witch-king. His evil is no more."

Aragorn reeled at the near impossible news but the distraction could not hold him for long, and his attention drifted back to Buffy, noting that Elladan and Elrohir were looking increasingly grim.

His throat dried as he thought the words, but he forced himself to speak them, "Is she dying?" he asked, looking at his brothers.

Elrohir met his gaze frankly, "I do not know, Aragorn," he answered, "She has lost a lot of blood, perhaps too much. And even without the wound to her abdomen, she was badly hurt. We will do what we can, but I can give you no certain answers, muindor."

Aragorn's voice shook as he clutched her limp hand tighter, "I cannot lose her," he whispered. "I cannot…"

Seeming to sense that Aragorn's distress was not his to see, Pippin discreetly left the room, while Gandalf gently separated the ranger from the slayer, "Come, Aragorn," he said, "Let them do what they can. You are too upset to help, you will only hinder them. Come, there are others who need your help now."

Aragorn nodded slightly, his eyes fixed on his meleth's form, "Heal her," he said, "Please…. She never deserved this…"

"We will do our best," Elladan promised as Gandalf led him away.

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Despite their efforts, they were slipping away.

Pale as ghosts, their skin was deadly cold where it did not burn with fever, and their breathing laboured. One and all, they were losing them.

Imrahil and Éomer anxiously, with Éomer pacing the length of the room as he watched the healers work on his sister, who seemed to be slipping further and further away from their grasp with every passing breath.

Against the odds, mortal wisdom won out over Elvish skill, and it was Ioreth, stepping into the room with athelas for the twin Elven Lords of Rivendell, who unwittingly provided the answer. Once she was recovered from the shock of seeing Buffy anyway.

The twins had been alerted to the woman's plight when a loud crash was heard as she bumped into a washstand, eyes wide. "What ails you?" Elladan said, disliking the interruption and the subsequent gawking when their friend lay in such a perilous state. The woman merely pointed at Buffy, the athelas clutched tightly in her hand, "Well, what is it?" he demanded.

"It cannot be so!" Ioreth exclaimed, "Bless my soul, but it cannot be! She should be as aged as me!"

Elladan nodded in swiftly dawning comprehension, "You know her?"

"She is the spitting image of Lieutenant Eliza, but it must be nigh on fifty years since she was in Gondor!"

"Buffy is as long-lived as those of Númenórean descent," Elladan explained, "But she is gravely ill and so you must go. Gaping at her will help no one."

Ioreth did not like that. A renowned gossip, she did not like not knowing what was going on. "Buffy?" she repeated, "Is that not the name of the rumours? Tell me that she is not the King's lady!"

Elrohir glared balefully at her, looking ready to pitch her from the room as he carefully stitched Buffy's wounds, "That is none of your business, woman," he snapped instead, "Now take your overactive tongue and be gone! Or do you not see that we are busy?!"

Ioreth sniffed and turned on her heel, "Well," she said huffily, "A pity the King is not here to see how you treat innocent people. After all, the hands of the king are the hands of a healer and if he was here, perhaps we would not need such sour tongued helpers!"

As she flounced out of the room, two sets of identical grey eyes were meeting each other across Buffy's bed.

Almost immediately, Elladan was bounding out of the room, shouting, "Aragorn! Get over here now!"

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Buoyed by Elladan's words, Aragorn carefully sat down beside Éowyn, feeling all the weight of Éomer's stare. His eyes were sad as he took in Éowyn's condition and he sought to comfort Éomer, "Her arm is broken but will mend with time," he said, placing several leaves of athelas into steaming water, "But darkness weighs over her spirit. Those who pit themselves against the Nazgûl must have wills of iron, and your sister has shown more courage than a hundred men but she faced the vilest wraith of all. And he a sorcerer at that. Now, her body and mind falter under the shadow's weight and it is that that puts her so close to passing from this world."

Taking one of her hands in his and placing a hand on her forehead, and concentrated. Images of darkness and despair wracked his mind. The Golden Hall broken and burned… Wormtongue… vanished hopes of glory…. And an ever present loneliness. Forcibly pushing them back and away from him, he called to her, wandering in the dark dreams of the Black Breath, spoke lowly to her of those she had left behind – Éomer who was grieving for her, the glory she had earned, the future that awaited her…

He could not tell if she heard him or believed any of what he said, but of a sudden, her breathing evened out and deepened, and the fever seemed to wash away, until she fell into a deep sleep.

Standing up, he turned to Éomer, "She merely sleeps now," he said, seeing Éomer nearly collapse with relief, "She will wake when she is ready and time will heal her wounds of the body. You should sit with her now. She loves you and you can reach her better than I."

Éomer merely nodded and took the seat beside his sister, his hand smoothing back the loose hair off her face.

Happy for them and yet despairing over Buffy and the future they stood to lose, he left them without a word.

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The Houses of Healing, Minas Tirith, Gondor, TA 3019, March 18 – just after midnight.

He sat slumped over her bed, tenderly holding her uninjured hand, trying to will her to get better and yet with every passing moment, battling with the knowledge that nothing seemed to be working.

Buffy was still slowly dying.

While Faramir, Éowyn and Merry had been pulled back from the brink, and were now on their way to being hale and whole again, but the darkness kept drawing Buffy down deeper, to someplace that Aragorn could not follow.

Every hour dragged her further away from the living and her breathing grew increasingly laboured as he watched, fighting the urge to weep but afraid that some part of her was yet aware and would hear him. He had to be strong for her now.

The twins wandered about, proposing and trying new tactics that never made any difference and it was soon becoming clear to Aragorn that their skill was near exhausted. They were losing the fight to save Buffy.

Aragorn could feel that indescribable feeling in his mind growing fainter and fainter, but he clutched to that thread which tied them together with all his might, willing his strength into Buffy. Hers was failing fast and it seemed that it was only Aragorn's borrowed strength kept her afloat. And so he sat there, willing and hoping, talking to her – nay, begging her to come back to him. He vacillated from pleading to demanding and back again. He was trying to remind Buffy of that very stubbornness that had kept her alive for so long when Elrohir placed a hand on his shoulder, urging him to look up.

His brother's expression was dark, valiantly trying to hide his sorrow, but Aragorn saw it clearly and it smote his heart with such pain that no weapon of the Shadow could ever to inflict. "I am sorry, Aragorn," he began softly, "We have tried everything to no avail. The darkness weighs heavily upon her and we cannot lift it. She does not have long left to this world…"

"No!" Aragorn exclaimed hoarsely, his white knuckled grip on Buffy's hand tightening, "She cannot be dying…. She cannot… You trained under Elrond… Do not tell me that you cannot help her!"

Elrohir took the criticism stoically, "I am sorry, Aragorn," he repeated sadly, "But Sauron's malice is killing her. He drags her down to her death and will not ease his grasp. I cannot dislodge this. Gandalf is thinking but he has never thrown his strength against Sauron's will before and he fears that the battle between them would kill her. She is a mortal, though one gifted by the Valar, she still possesses a human's weaknesses. Her body is weakened, her mind is under assault. The chances are that she would not survive Gandalf's attempts to save her."

Aragorn's head bowed and he stared at Buffy's pale face as if searching for something, "Why?" he asked after a moment.

Elrohir looked at him, "Why what?"

"Why Buffy?" Aragorn said, his temper flaring, "Why her and not Faramir or Éowyn or Merry? Why does he hold onto her when word has surely reached him of the Pelennor's outcome?"

The ranger could tell that the Elf did not want to answer but his intense stare eventually provoked him into speaking, ""Because of the four of them," Elrohir explained, "He latched onto the one you care about the most, - the one who it would hurt you the most to lose. Rohan and Gondor will stand whatever happens to Éowyn and Faramir, Merry is considered inconsequential, but he remembers Buffy. He loosened his hold on the others so he could keep you from her. Denethor knew too much it seems, and had too little wisdom to keep his bitterness to himself. The palantír told Sauron much and though I do not understand it, Sauron seems to want her dead so much that he is willing to intervene himself."

"So it is partly because of me that she lies in this state?" Aragorn said bitterly, "Would that she had stayed in Rivendell! You at least have the luxury that your loved ones are safe. They are not hunted because of you."

Elrohir was pained by the sight of his brother's anguish, "She was not hunted because of you," he said, "Long has she been a thorn in his side. He may not know her origins but he has always known that he wants her dead. Evil needs no other reason to act. This attack could have been provoked by her defence of the city or by some action decades ago. Blame Sauron if you must, but do not blame yourself. I know how you feel Aragorn. When naneth was attacked, she took a poisoned wound and very nearly died because of her torment. For a long time, Elladan and I thought ourselves to blame but daernaneth and adar eventually showed us that we were wrong. Naneth sailed West soon after and it has been five hundred years since I have seen her or heard from her. I know that you want to strike out, that your grief is terrible but I pray, do not let it consume you. We hunted orcs and the servants of the Enemy for centuries and it never appeased our pain but only fed our grief."

"But you will see Celebrían again, when you pass West," Aragorn said, "If Buffy passes than mayhap we shall never see each other again and the love that might have been will be lost forever. What did she do to deserve this, Elrohir? Her life has been harder than we can guess, I know. She does not talk of her past often but I have gleaned that it was terrible. After all her sacrifice, does she not deserve a chance to live without fear of the Shadow? We finally have an end in sight and yet here she lies, never to see it! It is not fair! Why does it always have to be her?!"

Aragorn's mind was racing, memories of this woman who possessed his heart flashing through his mind; her lively wit, her indomitable stubbornness, her enormous courage at Helms Deep…

With a jolt, he sat up straight and he scrabbled at Buffy's hand, and after a moment of concentration, he spotted that which he knew was there but was hidden from sight. Gently, ignoring Elrohir's questions, he slid the flashing ring off Buffy's finger and with an almost visible wink, it became visible once more.

Elrohir gaped as the Ring of Fire sparkled in Aragorn's palm.

The ranger looked upon Narya as the answer to his prayers, the one hope that he had left.

'Twas a rare occasion indeed that saw a son of Elrond speechless, but Elrohir only managed incoherent babble as he stared at the object of legend, something that Buffy had been guarding. Buffy? A Ringbearer?

Aragorn saw his shock and answered his unspoken questions, hope flaring in his eyes for the first time, along with a burning determination, "I had forgotten about this," he said, "Buffy used Narya at Helms Deep and thus revealed herself. Apparently, Gandalf gave it into her charge. And this may yet be the key to saving her! Get Gandalf in here now!" he ordered.

With one last glance at the Elven ring, Elrohir nodded sharply and flew out of the room in search of the wily wizard.

After all, he thought with a sense of giddy excitement, Aragorn's idea just might work….

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Gandalf's bushy eyebrows drew together as he listened to Aragorn's idea, "That might just work," he said after a moment, "But it is not without risk. You are the last of your line, Aragorn. I do not think you should risk yourself like this."

"So you would have me let her rot?!" Aragorn demanded, "No, Gandalf. Buffy and I have some sort of a bond. The Lady of the Wood told me about it and Buffy well knew of it when I confronted her about it. The Ring of Fire answers to Buffy now. Why cannot I persuade it to help her? I will not allow Buffy to die if I can do something to prevent it! She is my heart, Gandalf, I cannot lose her now. And she deserves better than this."

"Well, at least your resolve is firm," Gandalf said, "My staff is broken and I have not yet fixed it so it might be just as well that this course is open to you. But I warn you, Narya does not answer to those who are weak-willed. The Ring will judge you and if you are found wanting, I know not what will become of you."

"I shall not be dissuaded, Gandalf," the man answered firmly, "She is worth the risk. Now please, help me. What must I do?"

"The Three are free now, and I know not if Narya has the strength to keep Buffy from passing beyond the circles of this world," the wizard replied thoughtfully, "To accomplish what you seek, you must do something that has not been attempted before. I think that you must have the help of Elrond and Galadriel. Elrond is the most skilled at healing, and Galadriel the most adept at challenging Sauron. But they cannot come to you, so you must call to them through their rings, Nenya and Vilya. It has never been done before. Nor have the bearers been so summarily revealed. Aragorn, do you understand the dangers involved in doing this? This could kill you and her. Are you still set on this?"

"I shall not let the darkness take her," Aragorn said firmly, "Whether she ever returns my feelings or not, she deserves to live and be recognised for every sacrifice she has made for Middle Earth. I have seldom seen a more stubborn person. She did not give up on me when I lingered close to death. Why should I not do the same for her? She risked her own life, and mine to save me and it worked. If I must try to reach Elrond and Galadriel, I will do so. I will not give up on her, Gandalf."

The wizard nodded, "Then I will assure no one disturbs you." He offered, "Put the Ring on and tread carefully, Aragorn. And remember, despite your efforts, she has to want to come back. May the Valar be with you, Elessar."

Sitting down on the bed and pulling Buffy into his arms, Aragorn fervently hoped that Elbereth would take pity on them, and then he slipped on the Ring of Fire and left the real world entirely.

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He stood in what seemed to be some sort of burial ground. It was dark, but something was off… and that something made his hair stand on end.

It felt like the Black Land, like some evil slept underneath his feet. It was eerie but somehow he knew that Buffy was here somewhere, lost in this darkness.

He had no time to investigate though as Narya flashed on his hand. He had to wrestle to control the Ring and even then he sensed that the only reason that he had a modicum of control was because he was seeking to help its mistress. The more he fought with it, the more it became obvious that it was ten times easier to let Narya take the lead. It was bound to Buffy and Aragorn no longer needed to wonder why. Buffy's stubbornness suited Narya's headstrong attitude. He never thought he would describe a Ring as having a personality of sorts but he half suspected that it was through its link to Buffy that gave it those characteristics.

Pushing his musings out of his head, he concentrated on Elrond and Galadriel, having to trust Narya to reach out to the Rings of Air and Adamant.

His eyes snapped open at a gentle touch to his arm. He had taken an involuntary leap backwards before he recognised the intruder as the Lady of the Golden Wood. Her customary white dress seemed out of place in this strange land. "Suilad Elessar," she said, "Dire need has called me here. Tell me what has happened."

Aragorn looked around, "Wait, where is Elrond?" he asked, "Narya was supposed to call him too."

"Elrond has to man the Bruinen and cannot leave Rivendell unguarded," she explained, "The forces of the Enemy search for a way past the river. Rivendell will remain unassailed while the Bruinen comes at his command. But he is aware that he is called and Vilya will help if she can. Now, tell me, why have you called us here? My mirror shows that Minas Tirith stands. What need have you?"

"Buffy is dying," he choked out, "She was injured by a Nazgûl blade and near beaten to death as well as being run through by a sword. Elrohir said that Sauron's malice is killing her. The Elven rings are my last chance…. If this does not work, then Buffy is soon going to die…"

"This is a cruel end indeed," Galadriel said, nodding, "What you ask is difficult, but it can be done. The Three are stronger now than they ever were. It just might work. But listen to me, a choice lies before you, Elessar," she said, "Her freedom draws near. Her years of service are waning. If you save her, would you shackle her to you or would you let her fly free?"

"It would break my heart, for I love her as I love no other, but I could not cage her." Aragorn replied, eyes dark with despair, "I would let her go and wish her happiness if she truly desired it. But I know she loves me. I may not know why she runs, but I know that she can be caught. Why do you ask?"

"Because Buffy's past was hard and her love was fraught with doom." Galadriel answered, "At the moment, I think she is caught up in that past, or at least those memories which cause her pain. To bring her back, to release Sauron's hold on her, you will have to show her a future worth fighting for. What I tell you now, Elessar, is never to be traced back to me. Understand?"

Aragorn just shook his head, and here he had thought that the twins and Arwen only got it from Elrond's side. Apparently, Galadriel had had her playful and devious heyday too. The very image of a much younger, beautiful, precocious and conniving Galadriel was enough to make him shudder. No wonder Elrond never seemed to go against his wife's mother. "I understand," he said quickly, "Please, there is not much time…"

"Buffy has always known what your destiny is. She knows that you will be king," Galadriel explained, "While you and Arwen were together, she knew she did not have a chance but her heart was given anyway. She does love you. She has for a very long time. But she is afraid. And that is something that she will never admit. To be your wife, she would have to be Queen. A Queen of Gondor would traditionally be nobility and she feels that her past is something to be mocked. Also, she does not think herself suited to the role. And more importantly, she knows that you will want children. She does not feel she has what it takes to be a mother. She thinks that she has been a warrior too long. In short, she thinks a slayer cannot settle down. She thinks that position will cage her. That perception is what you have to reverse Elessar."

Aragorn digested the Lady's words and inwardly, acknowledged them as sense but they were concerns he had never thought of before. Feeling like a dunce, he thought that he should have realised some of Buffy's concerns. "How do I find her?" he asked.

"Look into your heart," she advised, "Concentrate on Buffy and Narya will do the rest."

Aragorn concentrated on his love and felt the world shift around him. When he opened his eyes again, Galadriel was a little ways behind him, observing him and Buffy was at last in his line of sight.

She looked… defeated, curled up into a ball on the grass as figures came and went from thin air, staying only long enough to torment her a little before making way for the next ghost of her past. As he watched, a tall dark-haired man stalked her with a viscous smirk, "You never learn, do you?" he gloated gleefully, "This wasn't about you. This was never about you. And you fall for it every single time!"

The man disappeared just as Aragorn moved closer and a dark-skinned woman appeared, "You let her kill me!" she said in a strange accent. Buffy whimpered, and he saw that her wounds of the body also afflicted her here.

Carefully, as one would approach a skittish animal, he moved closer, "Buffy?" he called softly.

Her head jerked up, and her eyes widened at the sight of him, though blurred through tears, "Aragorn?" she said incredulously.

"Oh Buffy!" he exclaimed, "Why do you linger here? Why can you not come back to us… to me?"

"The way is blocked," Buffy said dully, "You shouldn't be here. Go back. You have to go be kingly and all that."

"I could no sooner leave you here than become a Dwarf!" Aragorn replied, "Did you think that I would not come for you?"

"You shouldn't be here," she repeated, "Go away Aragorn. There is nothing for you here."

"I cannot." He said, reaching out to touch her.

She pushed him away, "Can't you just leave me alone?!" she cried, staggering to her feet, swaying as she did so, "Maybe it isn't so bad here! I already got torn out of heaven once! Why can't you just let me go?!"

Aragorn grasped her elbow before she could bolt, "Because I love you," he said clearly, "Because I want you, need you, as my lover, my wife, the keeper of my heart! I cannot abandon you to torment!"

Due to her weakness, he easily contained her struggles as he took her into his arms. Galadriel's voice echoed in his mind, just as those intent blue eyes watched carefully, lending the strength of Nenya and Vilya. 'To release Sauron's hold on her, you will have to show her a future worth fighting for….'

Concentrating, he felt the world shift again, and this time things had changed for the better. Buffy gasped as her wounds disappeared and instead of her ragged and bloodied warrior's garb, she was clad as a Queen. Looking around, he saw that they were in the citadel of Minas Tirith. Buffy recognised it immediately, "What did you do?!" she demanded, pulling herself out of his arms and looking down at her appearance in consternation. "What did you do Aragorn?!"

"Nana!" a high pitched voice cried out happily as a small, dark-haired figure barrelled into the room and ran right over to Buffy, tugging at her skirts and holding a piece of parchment, "Nana! Look!" the little boy said, beaming up at her, and shoving the picture into her hand.

She stared at the little boy, "W-what did you call me?" she asked faintly.

"Nana," the boy repeated obediently, and then looked at Aragorn, reaching over to grab his hand, "Look ada! I drew a picture!" His eyes watered as he stared at the little boy who could be… at their son…

Buffy's breath caught at his words, and she shook her head, "No," she whispered, eyes fixed on the boy, "This isn't possible…"

"Why?" Aragorn demanded, "Why is not possible? You do not have to be frightened… This war clears the path for a bright future, which the Shadow cannot pollute. Why can you not be both a warrior and a Queen? Galadriel fought at Doriath and yet was mother to Celebrían. Elrond was a warrior who became a ruler and then a father. Why can you not accept what can be meleth? Why do you falter at the thought of security, of peace, of love…? Why can you not be Queen? You are one of the most honourable people I know. And a mother? I should think you would be an excellent mother. We could be happy together, Buffy…. I know it. Who cares what the world thinks? I love you and if I dare to marry a hero of the Pelennor Fields and a valiant defender of Gondor, do you think anyone would object? Not that I would care, because I love you… Marry me, Buffy. Be my love, my wife. Let yourself be happy for once…"

The little boy tugged on Buffy's skirts once more and lifted his hands in the universal gesture for 'up'. Almost unconsciously, Buffy scooped up the little boy, hugging him to her, but she made no reply. After a moment, her lips curved into a small smile, "Thank you…" she said and then with a flicker, she and the little boy disappeared.

Aragorn darted forward but they were gone, "Buffy!" he called out in anguish.

Galadriel came forward, "You did it," she said, "The darkness is gone. She sleeps now. You called her back."

"She is alive?" Aragorn asked, hardly daring to believe it.

"She sleeps in her bed and should be well, Elessar," Galadriel replied, "When you go back, replace Narya and share your blood with her. A small cut will suffice. It will activate your side of the bond and lend her the strength needed to overcome her wounds. You have called her back but her body is weak and will need much time to recover."

Aragorn clasped her hands, "Thank you…" he said fervently and then both disappeared back to where their bodies slumbered.

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The twins found them some time later, bloodied palms clutched together and Aragorn leaning against the headboard, cradling her head in his lap.

Checking on their patient, they found the darkness gone and some new connection between slayer and ranger. They left them be though, sensing even Aragorn needed rest now and mollified that things were finally looking up, they withdrew and stood guard outside the room to ensure that no one disturbed them.

Only time would now tell whether Aragorn's gamble had paid off…

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The Houses of Healing, Minas Tirith, Gondor, TA 3019, March 18. – Afternoon.

Aragorn stirred as he was shook slightly. Cracking open his eyes with a groan, he saw Elladan waiting for him with a smile. "What do you want at this hour, you orc?" he yawned.

Elladan glared half-heartedly at him, "Well, I did think to wake you and tell you that the danger has passed and Buffy will now be well, but if all I am to receive is insults, I may as well go and taunt the Dwarf…"

He made as if to leave but Aragorn grabbed his arm before he could go, snapping awake, "She is safe?!" he demanded, looking down at the small blonde head in his lap.

"She will be well with time," Elladan said, "She will be in some pain and as weak as a newborn babe for a while, but she will get better. What did you do Aragorn?"

"I asked her to marry me," Aragorn said, ignoring his brother's astonished stare as he mulled on what he had seen, "I saw our son, muindor…"

"Your son?" Elladan repeated, "Did you foresee this or must I assume that you have hit your head somewhere?"

"I saw it," Aragorn replied, ignoring the jobe, giddy with relief and hope, "I think that I may have gotten through to her, Elladan. I think she may consent to be my wife after all."

Elladan nodded, "And what did you do to form such a bond between you?" he asked, "Elrohir and I felt it last night. It strengthened her through the night and dragged her away from the danger."

"She saved my life many years ago and thus formed this bond. I formed my half of it to activate it in full as per your grandmother's impeccable instructions, to help her recover. Call it a marriage in all but name, I suppose."

"Just pray that she does not kill you when she is in her right mind," Elladan said dryly, "Even weakened, her aim will be no worse, muindor. I would be careful not to get hit with a vase! But come, she is out of danger now and the war waits for no man. The healers have been instructed implicitly in how to take care of her and handle her… unique character, but you must meet with everybody in the throne room. Do try to hurry, before the Dwarf gets too comfortable. His armour smells like wet bear."

Dislodging himself carefully, Aragorn tucked her into the blankets and pressed a kiss to her forehead, "Amin mela lle, melethril."

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A/N: Well? I have provided you with some fluffy moments in recompense for the multitude of angst. More fluff is to come, but please let me know if I am doing it right! And see? I didn't kill her! Please READ and REVIEW!!!!

Next chapter: Debates over the future… Éowyn and Faramir have a little run in…. the twins are up to mischief… Buffy gets some actual lines… and of course, by popular demand, some fluff…

VOTE: Okay, your responses helped me decide whether to give Buffy a second, more impressive official, name and you guys incidentally chose the option that I was leaning towards myself. The result – Buffy gets a second name. Now, I am stuck on which one of the following list would suit her better, though I do have my favourites. So I decided that you, my dear treasured readers and even more treasured reviewers, would get to help me decide. Please tell me which name you would prefer Buffy to have and I will take a tally and see what the winner is. In picking a selection of names, I have tried to make them have a connection to the past or the hoped for future. After all, Aragorn's name 'Elessar' means Elf-stone, and the Elfstone brings renewal.

1) Nárelle – Fire-maiden

2) Silmarien – name of a daughter of the Númenórean King Tar-Elendil, she would be Elendil of Gondor's, and thus Aragorn's, ancestor.

3) Ancalimë – bright, - the name of the beautiful and wilful first Ruling Queen of Númenor, whose reign would be the longest after Elros's.

4) Vanimeldë – beautiful, - name of the third Ruling Queen of Númenor.

5) Tindóremel – Daughter of the Twilight

6) Lauriël – golden or more precisely 'garlanded with gold'.

Elvish:

Dagnir – slayer

Muindor – brother

Meleth – love

Naneth - mother

Daernaneth – grandmother

Adar – father

Elessar – Elf-stone

Suilad – Greetings

Nana – Mom/Mommy

Ada – dad/daddy

Amin mela lle – I love you

Melethril – lover (female)

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Bruinen - translated: Loudwater. The river bordering the valley of Rivendell. It is under Elrond's sway and he can make it flood at need.

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.

Doriath - An Elvish Kingdom in the First Age. Ruled by King Thingol Greycloak, husband to the Maia, Melian, and father to Lúthien Tinúviel. Melian wove a series of enchantments to form an impenetrable border to the realm called Melian's Girdle. Celeborn and Thranduil lived there in the First Age. Galadriel visited there. Was destroyed first by Dwarves, then by kinslayings.

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.

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.

Imrahil - Prince of Dol Amroth at the time of the War of the Ring. The line of the Princes of Dol Amroth is said to be of Elvish descent, a foremother being a Silvan Elf and a handmaiden of the Elleth Nimrodel of Lórien. Father of Lothíriel. Denethor's brother-in-law. Uncle to Faramir and Boromir.

Ioreth - During the War of the Ring, she is the oldest woman in the Houses of Healing. She was in the Houses of Healing when Eliza served in Gondor back in 2971.

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.

Naugrim - 'stunted ones'. Elvish term for Dwarves.

Nenya - The Elven ring of Water. Galadriel is its Keeper.

Númenor - Land of the Star. Translated 'Westland'. When Elros Half-Elven, Elrond's twin, chose to be of the Race of Men, the Valar granted him an island to rule over. It was prepared by the Valar as a dwelling place for the Edain after the First Age. Elros, granted a longer lifespan because of his Elven heritage, and the rest of the Edain who followed him were long lived as well, became Elros Tar-Minyatur, first King of Númenor.

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.

Pelennor fields - 'Fenced Land'. The 'town lands' of Minas Tirith. Guarded by the wall of Rammas Echor.

Rammas Echor - out-wall. For ten leagues or so it ran, from the mountains' feet and back again, enclosing in its fence the fields of the Pelennor.

Ring of Barahir - Heirloom of the House of Isildur.

Vilya - the Ring of Air. Strongest of the three Elven Rings made by Celebrimbor. Borne by Elrond.

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