Fan Fiction ❯ Shattered Reflections ❯ A Slayer's Plight, ( Chapter 2 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Author's Notes: Wow, I've had such great responses from the sites I've posted this first chapter at! I thank all of you so much;


Thanks to: onlimain, Mahal, Locathah–(She dug out of her own grave. My theory is that Willow's spell backfired and caused a temporal 'shift' so Buffy's body was moved across dimensions–all will be explained in later chapters), kiwi, NoLifeKing, Mrs. Pointy, charina, zayra, Navaer Lalaith–(I did know but I couldn't find the crossover section before, but I have now!:-)), Samantha, Renna, Anonymous, Myri, puer-slayer92, Alassante and Shanalir (the first 'Howdy' person I met, I'm honoured! hehe).

So without further ado, here is the second chapter.




Previously...



The anger, grief and pain she had been feeling, melted away into an invisible abyss, and belatedly, she realised that her weapon, in the form of a branch, had fallen to the ground beneath her feet.



As she felt her knees buckle beneath her weight and the world around her faded into darkness, one thing was for certain; she was certainly not in Sunnydale anymore.




L egolas and Haldir started as the girl–no, the woman, fainted at the sight of them.



It was true that the mortals of the world reacted intensely in their first moments of encountering Elves, but Legolas had never heard of any Edain, male or female, to have fainted at the feet of the First-born. If he was not so concerned about her, he would have been somewhat amused.



As it was, he was far too worried in attending the woman's unconscious form, to be humoured by her reaction to them.



"She is not from these lands," he mused in their Elven tongue.



As he crouched down beside her, he inspected the delicate features of her small, dirt-encrusted face. The smudged, tear-stained cheeks did not go unnoticed by the Prince of Mirkwood, as he checked for any injuries she may have sustained. "And she does not appear to be injured," he continued thoughtfully, "I wonder what grief encroaches her heart..."



He looked up to see that Haldir had positioned himself opposite the woman's other side, and was also inspecting her thoroughly. His eyes were narrowed at the peculiar clothing that was draped around her lithe, tiny form. It was unlike anything he had ever come across.



"She is like a child in stature," Haldir murmured, slightly to himself. "Her clothing–the stitching is far superior to anything I have ever seen in most of the villages and cities of the race of Men... Perhaps even more so than the garb of our own people."



That was an interesting observation, thought Legolas. He had always believed that the Elves had developed a superior method to weaving and stitching clothes, but it seemed as if his musings had been wrong, judging from the woman's garb.



They continued their silent perusal of her prone form, before Legolas wrinkled his nose in a rather dainty manner, "Why does she reek of death?" He asked his companion quietly.



Haldir sighed heavily and shook his head, "I know not. The smell is quite over-powering, as though it clings to the very pores of her skin."



"Well, we cannot leave her here," Legolas surmised jokingly, "No matter how awful the smell."



"Indeed," Haldir replied as a serious cloak descended upon his stern features, "We must take her to the Lady, for her fate to be decided. She is too far into the borders of this realm for me to send her away to one of the nearby mortal settlements. And even then, my suspicions would not allow her to leave my sight until she is judged accordingly, by the Lady herself."



Legolas raised a finely arched brow, "Perhaps we should try and wake her? If her reaction to us was any indication, I dread to think how she would behave when she sees the others."



The March Warden snorted softly as he spoke in a sly manner, "Why, Legolas, I thought you knew that we are far superior in appearance compared to the other Elves of our company. I am sure her reaction would not be to faint at the sight of them, but to turn and run the other way."



They shared an amused glance with one another before chuckling softly at Haldir's implied insult to the lesser beauty of the other elves they travelled with.



Looking back to the unconscious woman, Legolas reached out and placed his palm upon her dirtied cheek to gently brush away the lingering tears. He was mildly surprised at the coldness of her skin. If he had not seen the movement of her chest, he would have certainly thought her dead. "She is far too cold," he voiced his concern.



Haldir frowned and placed his own hand upon her other cheek. His eyes widened with shock. "By all accounts, this woman should be dead; so cold is her skin, like the snowy peaks of Caradhras!"



Nodding in agreement, Legolas unclasped his cloak and placed the piece of clothing around her tiny frame, hoping that it would warm her with his body heat. To his left, his eyes caught sight of a hole in the ground. With Haldir watching him curiously, he rose from the woman's side and began to investigate the shallow hole that had been dug from the ground.



"What do you see?" Haldir asked, coming to stand beside him to observe the pit that had caught Legolas' eye.



"It is strange... This pit; one could not have moved the earth from above–look how the soil scatters outwards. It is almost as if something has dug it's way out of the ground. The hole far too large for one of the forest animal's to have caused it..."



A look passed between the two warrior Elves, before their eyes came to rest upon the unconscious body of the young woman.



"You do not believe that she–!" Haldir cried in disbelief, stopping himself short before he could utter the ridiculous words that Legolas was trying to convey.



The Prince of Mirkwood shrugged his shoulders, "I have seen far too many things in my life, not to hold those thoughts, mellon."



"Now I have seen and heard everything," Haldir muttered to himself, shaking his head.



"Haldir–"



Legolas stopped speaking as a groan coming from the woman, alerted them of her awakening. With the speed that Ilúvatar had graced them with, they were at her side in moments, awaiting the time in which they could speak with the strange human that had wandered into the fair woods of Lórien.




T he grogginess that clouded her mind was slowly being lifted as she groaned and arched her back. Secretly, she was hoping that she had just been dreaming of the two glorious men that she had come across. But as her green eyes came into focus, her breath caught in her throat as two beautiful, stoic and expressionless faces loomed above her, blocking her vision of the canopy of rustling, golden leaves that lay above and beyond their heads.



Licking her dried lips, she spoke for the first time in what felt like an eternity.



"Is this Heaven?" She managed to whisper hoarsely.



Buffy was distinctly aware that her head was being gently cradled by one of the beautiful men, much to her great embarrassment–or joy. Whichever way she looked at it, he was too jaw-droppingly handsome for her to form any semblance of coherent thought.



The two Elves exchanged confused glances.



"Forgive me, my lady, but I know nothing of that which you speak," Legolas replied softly, as he held her head gently in his hands, "Is Heaven the realm you journey to?"



Her eyes widened as he asked this question. His voice was... Magical; like the sound of jingling bells at Christmas, only more beautiful and lyrical. There were no words she could use to describe it. However, instead of comforting her, it only served to increase the displeasing emotions that stirred within her.



She sat up stiffly before scuttling back away from his touch, using her hands and feet as the two men crouched before her. "If this isn't heaven, then where am I?" She asked apprehensively, looking back and forth between the two men, as if she were measuring their strength; afraid that they would attack her.



For some reason, this bothered Legolas. Not many feared his people–of course, there was suspicion and distrust at the magical quality of the Elves, but most races knew that the First-born held no thoughts for causing harm to other living creatures, unless their safety was being questioned in the process.



Her hesitancy only furthered his resolve to ease her mind of his people.



And so, he tried once more to move closer, only to have her cringe back further away from his outstretched hand. "We mean you no harm, my lady," he soothed as he lowered the offending limb, "You are in the woods of Lothlórien. Haldir," he gestured to his companion, "Is the March Warden and guardian of it's borders and I am Legolas, kindred of another woodland realm; Mirkwood."



His words did not have the desired affect upon her, that he wished them to have. Instead of looking comforted, she merely seemed more confused and disturbed than before. "I don't know any of these places," she said in a small voice.



Once again, Legolas and Haldir exchanged a muted glance.



Her speech was strange–the accent quite nasally, and the odd structure of her words and sentences only determined that she was not from any nearby realm. Legolas wondered if she came from a far distant country, long lost to the knowledge of Men and Elves. Perhaps she had lost her way, in search of the land of Heaven; a land that he had never heard of before. It seemed a likely possibility...



"Pray tell, how exactly did you enter the borders of this land?" Haldir finally spoke, looking at her with veiled suspicion, bordering on curiosity.



Buffy glanced at the other, larger Elf sharply, a look of guilt flashing in her eyes before she cast the two green orbs downwards. She knew that she couldn't lie to the two men. And so far, they had been nothing but gentle towards her, if a little stiff and cool.



"I'm not from here," she said truthfully, avoiding the question and omitting as much information as she could without jeopardising her safety.



If her thoughts were correct, from the visions she had received, then Willow had somehow cast a spell to revive her; only to have it backfire and send Buffy into what could possibly be, another dimension. The thought of her red-haired friend, only served to darken the features of her paled face.



Legolas and Haldir were quick to notice the change in her demeanour. They could sense the angered emotions that hovered within her mind.



"Yes," Haldir sighed impatiently, "But how did you pass the borders? This land is still heavily guarded and I am surprised that you managed to sneak in. We do not let strangers pass through this realm without an escort–and that is only if the Lady of our woods bids them welcome," his voice hardened slightly, causing Buffy to wince.



Legolas cast a strained glare to his companion, "Haldir," he warned lightly, giving the March Warden a secret command to stand down.



It was obvious that this young woman was in great distress, and in need of their help. The shadow had passed after the war, and although many fell creatures still roamed Middle-earth, they had no master to lead them or guide them in their disharmony. He sensed no evil from the small woman before him, simply a deep, lingering sadness which engulfed her entire being.



"It's okay," she started quietly, "He has a right to ask..." She trailed off, squinting into the distance, as though her mind had wandered away from her body. "But please don't ask me to explain, because I'm not sure if I can," she whispered brokenly.



A frown creased the Mirkwood Elf's brow.



"If you will not tell me, then I must take you to the Lady of this wood. She will be the one to pass judgement upon you," Haldir reasoned. It was fair of him to decree this, since she would not speak to them of her origins.



Buffy looked at them, her curiosity intensifying, "Is she like your leader, or something?"



The two Elves were seemed deeply put out by the strange tongue in which she spoke. It took them a moment to understand her meaning.



"Yes," Haldir answered with slight amusement. "She is the leader of this wood and it's inhabitants; wise and all-knowing. If you are true of heart, she will gladly aid you in your trials–or something," he added with a small smile, thoroughly pleased that he could somewhat understand and use her speech.



They spied the twitch of her lips and could tell that she was equally amused by Haldir's effort to incorporate her dialect into his words. Though the shadow in her eyes did not seem to lessen. This piqued Legolas' interest thoroughly. Shaking his head at Haldir's antics, he rose, "We should return to the others, lest they begin to worry and come to our aid unnecessarily."



As he turned his head to path they had come from, the sharp intake of her breath was not lost upon his Elven ears. Legolas shifted back to face her once more and found her eyes had grown as large and wide as that of a new-born doe.



"Are you well?" He asked with concern, as she paled even further with his advancing step towards her.



Buffy stood clumsily and backed away further, "What are you?" She demanded, her voice growing surprisingly stronger.



Legolas frowned, "I am an Elf, one of the Eldar."



The woman looked at him apprehensively, "You're... Not human?"



"No," he shook his head, scowling secretly at the smug gaze his fellow Elf-friend was giving him as he too rose from his position on the ground, "I am not human," he added dryly.



"So, you're a demon then?"



The question took Legolas off-guard. So much so, that he almost tripped over his own graceful feet. "Demon!" He cried with slight offence, "I assure you my lady, I am no demon!"



The indignant tone of his voice quelled any fear and suspicion that had been slowly building within her as she spied his pointed ears.



"She may be right Legolas," Haldir quipped, folding his arms, "In your anger, you may find that you distinctly resemble one of the Dark Lord's servants. Perhaps even a balrog, if I may be so bold as to say."



Legolas gaped at his so-called friend, "Well, in all my life–I never!" He stammered as his face turned a becoming shade of pink. The grief he harboured from the past year seemed to dwindle at the March Warden's comment. "It is you who resembles a balrog when in the throws of an argument, Haldir of Lórien, not I!" He retorted, gathering his wits.



Buffy was quite forgotten as the two exchanged a few more cursory insults with another. To her, they both seemed to behave in a rather–silly, manner. And their pointed ears were not helping matters any further... It was quite comical to behold. She vaguely wondered if all Elves behaved like them–if they knew about Santa. If they did continue this behaviour, however, then she would rather that they bury her back into the ground, if only to have a little peace.



Her improving mood vanished at the grim thought.



It seemed too easy to forget how she had come to be here, in the strange presence of these men, or Elves as they called themselves–but all too soon, the memory of her plight once again descended upon her, to remind her of the darkness and burden that she would forever be forced to carry. Even in life after death.



She cleared her throat softly to catch their attention, which halted the childish barbs that they were throwing at one another, some of which consisted of Morgoth's balls and a balrog's breath–whoever they were, she was certain it was not a polite compliment to pay.



Legolas and Haldir actually had the grace to look ashamed of their behaviour. It was not every day that two prominent warriors of the First-born, embarked upon the pleasure of such mindless insults, in front of a lady no less. Well, unless you did not count the twin sons of Elrond, Haldir's brothers and a certain Elf balrog slayer, named Glorfindel. It seemed that the reborn warrior had developed quite a wicked, cruel sense of humour during his time in the Halls of Mandos; much to the dismay of Elrond and his advisor, Erestor.



"Forgive us," Haldir coughed, secretly triumphant that he had managed to coax the Mirkwood Prince out of his self-made shell, if only for a moment.



"What is your name, my lady?" Legolas asked, suddenly remembering his manners as the trio stood facing one another, silently.



She started at his question and frowned thoughtfully, "My name is Buffy," her voice was as soft and quiet as the flutter of a butterfly's wings.



"That is a strange name indeed," Legolas said unashamedly, hearing a sound of agreement fall from his companion's lips. "Buuff-ii," he repeated the name, testing the syllables carefully with his mouth.



Buffy would have laughed, had she not felt so weary from her existence in this new realm, "No," she corrected with barely hidden amusement, "It's not Boof-eey. It's Buh-fy. Buffy."



"Buf-ii," Legolas tried again, this time with Haldir participating alongside him.



She sighed with resignation, "Both of you have quite different accents, but it's close enough."



"Well, Lady Buf-ii," Haldir said finally, "I believe that it is time for us to rejoin our company and travel onwards to seek counsel with the Lady. Are you well enough to travel?"



"Yes, I'm fine," she assured them absently, "... Are there are more of you–more Elves?"



Ah, so that was the reason for her wandering thoughts. "There are..." Legolas confirmed, watching her reaction. Her face seemed to fall slightly before she covered up her emotions with the expertise of one of the Eldar.



"Oh."



"Do not fear us, Lady Buf-ii," Haldir said gently, "We are an honourable people and will do you no harm–"



Before he could continue, she interrupted him with a soft murmur of, "I fear nothing."



With that said, she motioned for them to lead the way back to the party of five Elves and one Dwarf, that were waiting for them on the path.



Now that they all stood at full height, Buffy realised that once again, her small stature was being dwarfed by the long limbs of someone else–this time Elves. She was certain that Elves were supposed to be small, but nothing could surprise her anymore; she had seen and lived through far too much to be shocked. Alternate dimensions, demons, creatures of unknown origins simply did not affect her.



But these Elves affected her more than she would care to admit.



They were perfect in every way, and that made her uncomfortable.



As she secretly marvelled at their great height, she had to crane her neck backwards in order to gaze at them with hidden awe. Truth be told, she was slightly envious of them and their inhuman height, their lyrical dulcet voices, the graceful fluid way in which they moved, and their incredibly astounding, breath-taking features.



And their skin seemed to glow with a pearly white sheen. They're walking light-bulbs, she thought with annoyance. Every time she cast once glance at their fair faces, it felt like she was being punched in the stomach by an extremely irate hell-god, in the form of Glory.



Beneath her musings, she felt highly inadequate compared to the beauty and light of the two Elves. It was certainly not good for her to see that an Elf-male should be far prettier than a woman... It just didn't seem right.



As she continued to think deeply about her two companions, both Elves were equally engrossed in their own thoughts.



Though they were loathe to admit it, Legolas and Haldir were deeply disturbed by her previous comment, for it seemed to hold much truth and weight to it. She did not seem to fear them, as they had thought she would.



Legolas wondered how one so young, could harbour such intensity in their eyes. As if the entire world had rested upon her shoulders continually, and did nothing but weigh her down at every waking moment. Her entire demeanour seemed to have changed from the previous curiosity of their kind, to the contemplation of her own thoughts and emotions.



Haldir, flustered on the inside, but placid in the expression of his face, nodded in acquiescence at her words before bowing and turning to guide them back to the path that would lead them to Caras Galadhon.


In a polite gesture, Legolas held out it his arm for the lady to take, but frowned as she seemed not to have noticed it.



So distracted was she in her thoughts, that she followed Haldir's foot-steps out of the clearing–completely ignoring, or forgetting Legolas' presence.



Legolas, unperturbed by her actions, straggled behind to retrieve the cloak he had previously placed over her.



There were so many questions he wished to ask her. Of her land, her people, how she came to be in Lothlórien–but he knew that he would receive no reply. And in truth, he did not wish to pester her so soon. She would speak of her plight in her own time, and if she did not, it was not his right to question her–unless she was a foe, cleverly disguised... But that was ridiculous, he assured himself.



However, whatever shadow haunted his steps, seemed to affect her all the more greatly. He had never seen one being in so much turmoil before–if he did not count himself. He could not help but wonder what horrors her vivid green eyes had seen in life.




Blinking away his troubled thoughts, he sighed heavily before turning to leave the clearing, casting one final, suspicious glance at the pit that had been created at the base of one of the trees in the clearing. Wherever and whatever her plight was, he hoped that the Lady of the Wood harboured the ability to help the mysterious woman.




" Elves," Gimli muttered to himself as he was held back for the tenth time in going after his Fellowship comrade.



"They are taking far too long," he grumbled loudly, catching the attention of the five other Elves.



"Peace, Gimli son of Glóin," Tathar spoke calmly, "They will return soon."



"Yes, well–what if they don't?" The stout Dwarf argued disagreeably.



"Legolas and Haldir are seasoned warriors," Elladan said to the Dwarf, a spark of amusement igniting in his eyes, "Or have you forgotten this and taken to mothering Legolas, Master Dwarf?"



Gimli opened his mouth, snorting, "Ah, you mock me!"



"Nay, Dwarf-friend!" Elrohir cried jovially–though Gimli could not, for the life of him, discern the difference between the two twins. "My brother simply speaks the truth!"



"And what truth is that?" The Dwarf challenged, shaking his beard in warning.



"That you are worse than a mother hen," Orophin joined in, smiling with mirth at the two twins as he deftly patted the shorter man's shoulder.



"Aye," Rúmil, the youngest of the Elven party, added solemnly, though his serious face could not belie the great sparkle of amusement within his eyes. "All that is required of you, are feathers and a beak."



Gimli huffed and crossed his arms, "Feathers, indeed! I say that though you Elves are immortal, you will forever behave like children! Save for Lord Tathar, who seems to have more wit than all four of you rascals combined!" He motioned to the only Elf that had not humoured himself with Gimli's concern of the two departed warriors, "Feathers, indeed," he reiterated indignantly, glaring at the innocent, beguiling smiles of the four mischievous Elves.



"You wound us with your words, Master Dwarf!" Rúmil mumbled, deeply aggrieved–or appearing to be so.



The Dwarf grunted in disgust, "Children–you're all children," he continued to grumble as he turned away, not noticing the large grins that the two sets of brothers sent one another.



Tathar chuckled as he stood close to the muttering Dwarf. It amused him that this, short, irritable being was on rather friendly terms with an Elf–and a Crown Prince no less! But both were one of the Nine Walkers, and he could understand that a bond between war comrades was forged with great loyalty, and not one to be taken lightly.



The difference between Dwarves and Elves was great, but it seemed that the Prince of Mirkwood and Gimli son of Glóin, had put aside their differences. Even if they did have their moments petty of bickering. Tathar had been witness to this only once on their journey through the woods, and that was when Gimli had berated the older Elf for his gloomy demeanour. It seemed that the Dwarf held special privilege in being allowed to speak with the Prince in such a manner.



Tathar had not always liked Dwarves; he still did not like them, but he had grown quite fond of this particular Dwarf, in the short time they had spoken. He was a true Elf-friend, even if he was a little dispiriting and grumpy.




B uffy had been relatively silent throughout their journey back to the path.



Haldir had not realised that her location had been so deep in the woods, for the swiftness of his feet had carried him quickly to her previously raging side. She was more appealing silent and unarmed, than having brandished a fallen branch to beat the soil of his homeland. He cast a furtive glance at her from the corner of his eye.



He was still suspicious of her, as he rightly should be, but he was also intrigued. Many had heard of the Eldar, and it was rare to find a mortal that did not know of them, at least in legend. Yet this woman held no knowledge of their race, and for this reason, his interest in her was heightened.



She had refused to tell him how she had entered the Golden Wood, but it made little difference. If she was proven to be untrue, he knew that the Lady would cast her from their realm without hesitation. After all, she was one small woman in a city of Elves, most of them highly trained in the art of defence and war-fare.



That was another aspect that Haldir found most intriguing. Her height. She was shorter than any mortal woman he had ever had the chance to come across. Her head only just reached to the middle of his chest, and next to her, he felt like a great hulking, lumbering tree. He was sure that Legolas felt the same, for the Elven Prince was doing his best not to slouch his shoulders as he walked beside her silent form.



"Are all Elves beautiful?" She asked, finally breaking the silence that had descended upon them.



Haldir smiled as he cast a long glance down at her; he was impressed that she was keeping up wide the quick stride of his long legs. "All of the Eldar are equally blessed in beauty and strength, Lady Buff-ii."



She nodded at his words before speaking once more. "Please, call me Buff-ii," she insisted quietly, earning a raised brow from Legolas, "Where I come from, we don't use such formality."



Appeasing the Prince's curiosity, she turned her eyes once more upon Haldir, "I can sense it–you're strength," she said, more to herself.



Haldir frowned slightly, "And how do you sense this?"



She shrugged lightly, "Intuition, the way you hold yourselves."



"Ah," Haldir said, enlightened but still not satisfied with her answer. One thing was clear–she was hiding something from them, something she did not wish for them to know.



The break in the trees came into view in the distance and with his superior hearing, he could barely hear the grumblings of Legolas' dwarf companion. What he did not know, was that the woman that walked between himself and the Prince, could also hear the Dwarf's deep, gravely voice.




< b>Translations:
Mellon – "Friend"
Eldar – "First-born"
Edain – "Second-born" or "Men"



Added Notes: I know that I focused a great deal on the introduction between the characters, but I felt that it was necessary, so please forgive me for this uneventful chapter. I also thought it was necessary to inject a bit of humour, since events will soon become very angst-y!

Things will be much more interesting in the next chapter when Buffy encounters a grumpy Dwarf and five Elves–four of which are extremely nosy and mischievous. Once again, comments or criticisms would be greatly appreciated!
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