7. Fate Gives When It Will

"Tread lightly, she is near."
Requiescat-Oscar Wilde (1881)

Minas Tirith June 12/ 22 Laire 2969 III Age

It was early. Very early. One of the things about living in Arda was that she always woke early now. With no vampires to slay and spending weeks if not months out with the twins was that it made her an early riser. And today she didn't have to be.

So here she lay, in bed, thinking about her life. For twenty three years she had been on earth. There she'd had family, friends, and a duty she never wanted. It still colored her responses. Still made her wary and it still made her trust something very hard to gain. Well, unless you're an elf and family that is.

She had often wondered about them. She'd been in Arda for as long as she'd been on earth now. Which, into itself, was a strange thought. She'd been here twenty three years and had yet to look a day older. When her foster parents had told her of the choice she could make she'd been thrown for a loop. And then laughed at the irony. She'd live forever of she wanted. It wasn't a curse like Angel thought it was for many reasons.

But now her time here was equal to her time before. Twenty three years of living an amazingly full and loving life. Family, friends, and a duty that didn't weigh on her like the old one did. She was happier here than she'd ever been on earth. And that was even without getting any for over two decades.

Hearing the sounds from the streets below pulled her from her thoughts for a moment and brought her back to the present.

Minas Tirith.

Aragorn.

Pain in the general rear end.

She'd been here a year now and still hadn't managed to meet the elusive 'Thorongil'.

After less than a month she'd managed to find work as a teacher. Apparently what passed for 'educated' in Arda was even less than she had learned from the California education system (when she actually went to class) and what her adar had forced her to learn. Now, almost a year later, she was fairly well known.

But being well known wasn't her goal and she was getting very irritated. Over the last year she'd seen her prey several times. But getting close enough to be introduced or even to talk to him? Not even close.

Buffy got out of bed and began to get ready for her day while thinking of what she knew about the elusive pain in the ass.

Buffy had spent over fifteen years hearing about 'Estel' from his foster brothers so she had had a rough ideal to expect when she arrived in Minas Tirith a little over a year ago.

They had told stories to her about how he was as a child. A lovable little scamp that helped them get into trouble and who later could hold his own against them on the practice Fields. They told her of his years as a Ranger under the name of Strider. They let her read letters from him that came during his time in Rohan. And most of all they warned her of the change that had come over him after he had learned of his destiny.

Buffy could understand the change in him only too well. She understood where he was and why he wanted to avoid it at all costs.

But Buffy knew one thing that Aragorn didn't.

You can't escape destiny.

Especially when running from it would cost innocent lives.

Buffy had learned that lesson better than anyone.

Now ready for her blessedly free day in a beautiful yet simple riding dress of green with divided skirts she made her way to the stables. The urge to ride free for hours on end had begun about three years after Haldir taught her to ride and now she found she had to go once a week to appease it or she got very crabby.

And a crabby Buffy is never pretty.

Entering the stables Buffy went to gather the tack that she would need to ride. Being in a saddle was a little strange to her after years riding bareback like the elves but she didn't mind.

Her movement was stopped however when her foot hit something.

A horseshoe.

Dammit.

There goes riding this morning.

And so the cranky began

Four hours and a massive amount of annoyance later and here she sits. Waiting still for the blacksmith to fix the shoe.

The urge to slay something is getting bigger.

And here she didn't even have Glorfindel to wail on.

She got up and began to pace around the dark forge. Her horse was apparently next after something...

But she was restless.

And very cranky.

Her thoughts however were distracted from her foul mood for a moment when a large broad shouldered man came through the door. She couldn't see his face from where she was but she could see the way he moved as he made to way back to room where the big smelly blacksmith was. He was graceful like a cat. Like Spike. He moved like a fighter.

Her musings on how he moved however were distracted by the conversation he was having with the blacksmith.

Thanking the higher ups for her slayer hearing that only seemed to improve over time she narrowed her eyes as she came to a stop next to a rack of completed swords.

There was no way in hell he was gonna get his work done first.

Pulling one the swords from the rack she decided to pretend to be inspecting it until the asshole came out. Then she was gonna threaten. No cutting in line.

"Swords are very dangerous my lady. Perhaps you should put that back ere you hurt yourself." came a strong voice from behind her.

Buffy whirled. And came face to face with Aragorn.

Crap Crap Crap Crap Crap

Blinking several times, her ability to speak suddenly flew out the window. After a year of trying to meet him, here he was. And she wanted to hit him.

Figured.

"Swords are very dangerous my lady. Perhaps you should put that back ere you hurt yourself." he repeated with a slight smirk on his face.

Oh yeah. Now she was mad.

Hurt herself. Ha! More like him.

"I will not hurt myself. But maybe I'll hurt you." Buffy replied sweetly moving with speed and grace across the floor to stand a few feet from him. Sword still in hand.

There was a puzzled and then hard look on Aragorn's face for a moment before he replied. "And why would you do that?"

"You're trying to cut ahead of me in line. I was here first therefore my work will be done first."

"I am a captain my lady my work is more important."

Buffy couldn't help but smirk at that.

"And what are you having done?" she challenged

"My horse needs a new shoe."

"Are you riding out today?"

"No"

"Then its not more important than mine. Wait in line like every one else." Buffy countered smugly.

"That is not rev..."

Buffy pulled a knife from her belt and threw it. It landed with a loud thump only a foot from Aragorn's head. His eyes widened for a moment and then narrowed.

"What is your name lady and how is it that you know how to do that?"

Buffy smiled. Baiting him was as much fun as the twins said it was. "Cristiel is my name. And I learned from my kinsmen."

Buffy looked fair enough to be from Rohan so it was entirely possible that it was true and she knew it.

And apparently it worked.

"And what is your name captain? I feel the need to know who I am conversing with." Buffy couldn't help but smile.

"Thorongil" Aragorn's response was clipped. As though being distracted by weighing and judging her. She still had the sword in her hand and after her use of the knife there was little doubt that she could use it.

Turing on his heel he made is way back to the blacksmith.

Buffy watched with a smile as he came back several moments later. She'd put the sword away and pulled her knife from the wall. "Your work shall be done first my lady."

"Its been a pleasure Thorongil. Perhaps we can dance again some other time." she said over her shoulder as she left without a backward glance.

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Now many hours later Buffy was having a much better night. She sat one of Minas Tirith's many taverns drinking mead and enjoying the atmosphere. She was one of only a handful of women there besides the bar women and though she was a regular most left her be. If she felt like talking she would, and usually to the higher ranking officers that frequented the place. She was the teacher of most of their children and they had learned long ago that she was not a typical woman.

They thought her of Rohan and a shieldmaiden. She had spoken to them enough of military tactics and history to know she was no ignorant girl. So they had a measure of respect for her. One that she was more than happy for.

After her horse's shoe had been replaced she had ridden out into Pelinor fields for a bit and had come back to the city feeling much more herself. Even after her encounter with Aragorn.

The man she had been told to expect was different than the one she had met. She had expected him to be young and angry. Why she wasn't sure. Perhaps the fact that she had heard so much from the twins had colored her assumptions.

She sat there for a while brooding over the man who would be king for a bit before her reverie was broken by a mug being placed before her on the table.

Blinking, she looked up into the clear grey eyes of the man she was here to help.

Crap.

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