Fan Fiction ❯ Shattered Reflections ❯ Bath-time Blues ( Chapter 5 )

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

Author's Note: Grrr... The beta I had contacted still hasn't replied to my e-mail :( I feel so disheartened. I couldn't wait another week to get my chapter back so I decided to post this without it being properly edited by anyone. Thanks to everyone that offered to be my beta! I will send each of you a personal e-mail to show my gratitude. Once again, I apologise for the ridiculous delay... I don't like to keep my readers waiting but what can I do? Please forgive any minor errors you may find, I'm only one woman ;( lol.



Wolfete: Thank you for your critique. However I think there are some things we disagree on. Oh and perhaps I didn't make it clear, but I was simply having Elrond reference Celebrían as he spoke to Glorfindel about the pain of his wife's passing into the West. I know that it has been much more than a decade; Glorfindel was speaking about his certain, special she-elf ;-) I will go back and see if I can make it any clearer. Thanks for the review.


Apparently, ffn has a policy against replying to a number of reviews, which I didn't know about. Because I don't want this story and all your fantastic reviews to be deleted, I will refrain from doing so in the future.


Thank you all for your amazing reviews!







Previously...



“'Tis a summons from Círdan?” The surprise was evident in Glorfindel's voice as he spoke, “He wishes my presence in Mithlond?”



Elrond nodded, a cloud of worry brewing within his eyes. For the first time, he spoke to his companion about the repercussion of the War.



“Under a year has passed since the War, but fell beasts still roam this land. Without a master, they are wild and unyielding; their groups are large and overwhelming. Círdan wrote to me a few weeks prior–he spoke of yrch straying into the far western lands pillaging and plundering at will. That was how it seemed... At first. Then the mortal settlements of the far west began to fear for their very souls; rumours are spreading about the disappearance of men, women and children... Particularly men. There is an evil there that does not wish to sleep, even after the fall of the Dark One.”



“What would Círdan have me do?” Glorfindel asked dubiously, raising his eyebrow at the grave news he had been given.




T hey were coming to the last leg of their journey, as Haldir informed them, and Buffy was more than relieved to be nearing the hidden city. After dodging the Dwarf's continuous questions about Snow White, she had grown weary of her companions' constant curiosity. She did not deny that they had every right to be fascinated and leery of her presence at the same time. After all, she was certain that it was not a normal occurance for a young woman to be found standing in the woods by herself, let alone screaming at the top of her lungs.



Buffy cringed as she remembered her vocal display. She was not one to lose a grip on her emotions, but everything had happened so suddenly that it frightened her to the core of her heart. To be ripped away from the comforting arms of light that embraced her, had left her feeling... Bereft. It was as if she had left something behind, a part of her soul, back in the grave she had clawed her way out of. Although her hands had completely healed from the ordeal, she still felt a tremor at the base of her spine as she recalled the moment of awakening beneath the earthy soil.



The suffocation, the ebony blanket of darkness that shrouded her, the utter fear she had felt as she realised that she was no longer safe, no longer warm... It had all been too much for her! For the first time, Buffy knew true fear. She had been stoically scared on many occasions, which was justifiable after the handful of Apocalypses she had witnessed–but those times paled in comparison to her awakening in that grave and endless eternity she had spent trying to to tear herself out from the earth-bound prison.



“Your thoughts are troubled.”



Buffy started, turning her head to the right so that she could gaze at the owner of the voice. As was expected, her eyes met an elbow covered in green cloth that was unlike anything she had ever seen. She craned her neck upwards to meet the steady blue gaze of the Elf that had found her within the forest. “Sorry?”



He offered an encouraging, inquisitive smile, “Your thoughts are troubled.”



She wrenched her eyes away from his perceptive stare as they continued to walk, never breaking their strides. Damn Elves. “I'm fine.”



The Elf sighed, “You lie... It is said that if you share your burdens, your spirit will be eased from the troubles that weigh down upon you.”



“I'd rather not, Legolas,” she scowled. Ha! She remembered his name!



“Would you care to sing with me?” He inquired suddenly, “It will soothe your wandering mind.”



Buffy almost found herself gaping at the Elf. “Thanks, but I'm not into the whole Kumbaya shindig.”



It was more than a little strange to be asked that question. To be perfectly honest, if she did sing she was positive that the Elves would go deaf from her jarring voice. She was not much of a singer–as her sister liked to point out on every occasion. Give her an axe, a sword, a piece of pointed wood and she would show him a thing or two! But singing? The mere notion of it filled her with dread. Well... She wasn't as bad as Xander, but still.



The Elven Prince was baffled by her words, “Ai, you speak such strange words Buf-ii! I know not what to make of them... What is this Kumbaya shindig?”



“Never mind,”she sighed.



They continued to walk along in a companionable silence, before Legolas could not help but question her further, “I understand that speaking about your realm pains you, but I fear that my curiosity has been piqued. What is your land like? Do the people speak and dress as you do? Perhaps speaking about it would ease your grief.”



Buffy glanced at him sharply, the silence stretching to an unimaginable length, “I don't want to talk about it,” she said waspishly.



“As you wish,” he conceded quickly. Legolas had resigned himself to the truth that she did not wish to speak about herself. Leaving the odd woman to herself, he bowed once before quickening his pace to join his more jovial companions.




The day drew on and soon it was time set up for their final night outdoors, under the canopy glittering stars. The Slayer had to admit that the forest was beautiful; nothing in Sunnydale or the entire state of California could compare to the solid tranquility of this world...



The group entered the wooded clearing and without prompting, Buffy silently helped her fellow travelers collect fallen debris and branches for the small fire. She could not wait to get to the city! She desperately needed a bath, a shave and she was certain that was going to start PMSing soon, if her moods were anything to go by. The cotton thickness on the inside of her mouth was uncomfortable; she would kill for a toothbrush!



Buffy blamed her broody mood on her current lack of hygiene. Looking around at the others to ascertain their whereabouts, she pinpointed their positions.



Good.



They were all busy talking to one another or had gone off into the surrounding trees to collect more firewood. Biting her lip, she did the one thing that she never thought was possible to do in her entire life; she sniffed her armpits.



The scent of sweat and stale dirt accosted her nostrils, “That's just gross,” she muttered involuntarily, under her breath.



“Buf-ii?”



Her head snapped up guiltily. She caught one of the silver-haired Elves watching her; Tathar. His grey eyes regarded her solemnly, “Come,” he gestured for her to follow.



Startled by the sudden action, Buffy scampered after the long-limbed Elf. His stride was long and his gait was tall and strong as he left a clean trail of scent in his wake. That was another thing about Elves that bothered her... They didn't seem to get dirty! It had been frustrating when Buffy had secretly neared the various Elves to sniff the air around them. The scent was not as awful as her own, it was slightly musky but they still smelt considerably decent compared to her, especially if she recalled that none of the Elves had stopped to wash or bathe. It simply was not fair that she had to suffer being covered in dirt and soiled traveling clothes.



She wondered where the quiet Elf was taking her. Aside from the morning greetings, she and Tathar had never spoken to one another in great length. In fact, she had not said more than a handful of sentences to any of the Elves... They must think her a recluse!



Finally, Tathar came to a stop in the small forest glade. The sun had set and currently the stars were brightly lighting the area, affording Buffy with a breathtaking view of the glade.



A small, heated rock pool had formed from beneath the ground, the water sputtering upwards and outwards to create something that resembled a mini bubbling jacuzzi. Emerald green vines twisted along the rocks surrounding the pool, dotted with pale snowy flowers that were sweet and honeyed to her nose.



Buffy frowned, waiting for the Elf to speak.



Tathar smiled sheepishly, “Forgive me if I presume too much, but I assumed that you would like to bathe?”



She was shocked, touched and perhaps a little offended. “Do I really stink that bad?” She said wryly, raising her eyebrow. Buffy could have sworn that the grey-eyed Elf almost blushed to the tips of his pointed ears. Or perhaps that was the starlight playing tricks on her eyes.



“I was not implying–”



“Relax,” she said in amusement, “I was just kidding.”



“I do not understand your words?”



“I was joking,” she rephrased the words carefully, watching the realisation dawn upon his beautiful marble-etched features, “Actually, I would love to get rid of this disgusting smell that's been clinging to me for days!”



Tathar smiled easily and offered her a wash cloth from his traveling pack, “I will be in range if you need my assistance.”



Buffy almost sputtered at his words. She refrained from asking him about what type of assistance he would offer her. “Where will you be?”



“Here,” he pointed to small boulder that was a stone's throw away from the rock pool. “Do not fear, I will keep my back turned to you and you will know that I am here at all times.”



“You don't have to stay, you know,” she blushed.



He waved her words away with a flick of his wrist, “We are extremely safe here, being so close to Caras Galadhon, but one can never be too certain. It will ease my mind to know that you will be protected.”



Buffy snorted, “I'm pretty sure I don't need protection.” Seeing his skeptical expression, she rolled her eyes and promptly shut her mouth.



Tathar positively beamed at her defeat, chuckling as she grumbled to herself about the stubbornness of Elves and other creatures that were not known to his knowledge. Rummaging around in his pack, he handed her a stick of cinnamon–the edges frayed.



She looked at the offered gift with curiosity, “What's this for?”



“Your teeth; you dip the frayed edges in water and brush them,” Tathar said absently as he continued to search his pack for another item. “Ah! There it is... Here,” he handed her a vial of clear liquid and instructed her on the use of the substance. “Take a few white flowers and crush them into this vial, it will offer you a chance to clean your hair throughly. The scent is not as pleasing as it would be if I had been a female traveling companion, but your hair will be clean nonetheless.”



Buffy chewed her lips thoughtfully. The Elves were slightly more girly than she had expected. Personal hygiene was a bonus in a man, but scented shampoo? Now that was bordering on fanatical!



Ushering the young woman to the small pool, Tathar perched himself atop the rounded bolder and faced away from the rock pool as promised. For a few moments, there was nothing but silence, until he heard a soft sigh and the rustling of fabric. A triumphant smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Perhaps the woman would be in better spirits once she had bathed.



Meanwhile, Buffy had been glaring at the back of the silver-haired Elf as she quickly removed her clothing. Her only comfort was that if he tried to get fresh with her, she had the advantage with her Slayer strength and speed... At least it was good for something! If she had not felt to disgustingly filthy, she would never have taken a bath in the presence of the Elf. But as it was, she looked even worse than the time she had drowned and died in the Master's pool.



Sliding into the shallow pool of heated water, Buffy sighed in contentment. It was when she was in the confines of the water that she noticed the small stream meandering through the rock pool, taking away the dirt and grime of her travel as if it were a drain. A small smile brightened her features for a few precious seconds. Reaching out to the grassy bank, she took hold of her dirtied clothing and proceeded to wash them in the small stream that trickled out of the forest. Once that task had been completed and she placed her damp clothes upon the grassy bank, she surreptitiously glanced at her Elven companion and was relieved to see that he had not moved a muscle from his former position.



At least he was true to his word.



She began to relax slightly more as the lukewarm water lapped at her tired body, soothing the aches and pains away from her legs. Taking the cinnamon stick, she proceeded to wash her mouth clean and felt a spark of joy at the clean and refreshed sensation in her mouth. What a relief!



Half an hour passed by as she splashed around delightedly and washed her body and hair in the warm waters of the pool. The only thing left was to shave, but she knew that it could wait. For some strange reason, she never needed to shave as much as other women. Once a month would suffice in keeping her hair-free, and she knew that it had something to do with her mystical powers. She had wanted to question Giles about this, but found it too embarrassing to mention body hair within the presence of her Watcher... The world blech came to mind.



As time drew on, Buffy could see Tathar's restlessness. She grimaced and finally stepped away from the shallow pool and wiped away the excess water with Tathar's wash cloth before dressing herself in her dried clothing, now undeniably clean and most pleasant to wear.



“I'm finished,” she announced quietly.



Tathar stood from his seat upon the boulder and turned to face her. His grey eyes swept across her small frame appreciatively, before coming to rest on her tangled blonde hair. It would be better to comb out the knots whilst her hair was wet, but he was hesitant and loathe to offer his comb to the tiny woman... Well, he supposed that it was relatively clean now.



Coming to a decision, he reached into his pack once more and handed her his precious comb. Buffy accepted the tool gratefully and as they made their way back to the camp, she started the arduous process of de-tangling her wet hair. At least it looked much better than the magpie's nest it had resembled prior to her bath!



They entered the clearing and were offered intensely curious stares from the other companions of the group; they had now seated themselves around the camp fire and were enjoying an evening meal before Buffy and Tathar had returned to the group.



“Ai, my brothers! There is an actual woman beneath the dirt?!” One of the dark-haired twins finally exclaimed.



“Elrohir,” Legolas admonished softly, frowning at the impropriety of the remark.



Buffy shot Elrohir a withering glare, “Yeah, I'm a woman–yuck it up.”



They did not understand her words, but laughed at the dry and humourless tone she spoke with.



Tathar and Buffy finally seated themselves beside the small camp fire. She found herself between Tathar and Legolas, much to her dismay.



“You look well,” Legolas commented softly as the chatter between the group resumed once more.



Buffy cringed at her earlier behaviour, “I feel a lot better... I'm sorry I snapped at you, I guess I was feeling a little too grubby and tired... Probably just the bath-time blues.”



He smiled beautifully, deciphering her words and causing her insides to quiver like strawberry jelly, “I understand, Buf-ii. There is no need to apologise.” Legolas deftly handed her a large leaf.



She looked at the contents of the leaf and saw that it contained a piece of skewered meat. It was cooked to a golden brown and charred slightly on the edges, but it looked so delicious. She didn't want to know what type of meat she was eating, and so she stopped herself from asking the dreaded question.



Lifting up the skewered meat, she took a dainty bit and was surprised to find that it tasted extremely good. She took another bite; it tasted really good! There was some sort of mild seasoning and salt on the meat that tickled her taste buds in just the right manner. It had been the first time since she had joined their group that she had been offered any kind of meat. She deduced that it may have had something to do with the fact that they were nearing the city and that it was safer to enjoy the simple necessities of traveling; such as cooking and eating around an open fire.



Chomping away at the delicious meal, Buffy was almost shy to ask for seconds. But never one to let her hunger go unsatisfied, she asked for seconds... Then thirds and even a fourth helping!



The Elves watched her secretly in abject awe and fascination at the amount of food she managed to eat.



Unable to let the moment go, Elrohir spoke up again, “Where does she put it all?” He asked his brother, this time in the language of the Elves.



Buffy continued to eat, dismissing the conversation around her as she concentrated on her food.



“I do not know,” Elladan replied in bemusement, “But I do believe she has a weakness for meat.”



“Aye, I would have to agree with you, Elladan," Orophin joined in, continuing the conversation in Elvish so as not to rouse the young woman's suspicions. “She would not each much of the fruit and nuts but she is tackling the meat like she is a Dwarf!”



The Elves, save for Legolas and Tathar, chuckled at the comparison.



“What say you, my brothers?” Rúmil said, “Do you believe her to be a Dwarf in disguise?”



“She is short enough to be one,” Elrohir piped up. Another round of chuckles fell from their lips. “It is a wonder and a miracle that she is so tiny!” The dark-haired Elf continued.



“You are right, Elrohir,” Haldir commented thoughtfully as he looked at the small woman from beneath his lashes. “I do hope she does not eat all of the Lady's livestock. For I fear that if she does, there will be none for the upcoming celebrations!"” Murmurs of amused agreement passed through the five mirthful Elves.



Legolas could not help but feel displeased about the conduct of his fellow Elves. The poor woman must be famished after not eating properly; it did not feel right that she was being ridiculed for her appetite. The Dwarf beside him grumbled beneath his breath about the stupidity of the Eldar and their need for speaking so secretly amongst themselves.



The Elven Prince was about to comment on their behaviour, when Buffy tossed the make-shift leaf plate into the fire and glared at the five other Elves.



“Did you know that it's rude to talk about someone when they're sitting right beside you? If you have something to say, I'd appreciate it if you'd say it to my face and not in a language I can't understand,” she crossed her arms and glared them, waiting patiently for them to speak their minds.



The five Elves had the grace to be chagrined by Buffy's scolding–the offered quick apologies.



Legolas bit back a smile. The little woman was certainly a hellion beneath the anguish and sorrow that haunted her green eyes constantly. Satisfied that she could take care of herself, he turned wandering his attentions to the Dwarf that sat to his right.



< u>California, USA.




“Little bit?”



Dawn looked away from the small blurry screen of the television. “What is it, Spike?”



“You worried about the others, right?”



She sighed and snuggled deeply into the lumpy mattress of the motel bed, pulling up the smelly duvet covers for comfort. “We shouldn't have left them.”



“If we hadn't done, then we would've been killed!” Spike reasoned, still not feel right about leaving the others. “I–I made a promise,” he said finally.



Dawn rolled her eyes, “Promise?”



“To Buffy; I made a promise that I would look out for you. It didn't include the other bloody Scoobies and I damn well don't feel guilty that we left 'em.”



“Who are you trying to convince, Spike?” She asked softly, turning her head to window beside the bed. The room was cramped and dingy, but it would have to do until they reached their destination; Los Angeles.



“"I'm not trying to convince anyone, bit. Least of all myself. I'm just saying is all–”



A knock on the door interrupted his speech. Scowling, the platinum-blonde vampire sidled up to the door and opened it a fraction.



“Spike! Let us in!” The frantic, but familiar voice ordered.



His brow rose fractionally before he opened the door fully and gaped at the four people that marched into the dinky one-bed motel room.



Dawn jumped from the bed with a surprised smile, “Willow! Tara!!... Xander, Anya!” She barely concealed her squeal of delight as she hugged the red-haired witch. “How did you find us?”



“I did a tracking spell when we couldn't find you at the house, we've been following you for hours," Willow replied, looking at her best friend's sister in concern, "Are you all right? You're not hurt are you?”



“Yeah, those biker demons are a real piece of work, I'm just glad we got out of Sunnydale before they went totally ga-ga,” Xander chimed with a small goofy grin, his arm around his secret fiancée.



Dawn smiled back and hugged the man, before turning her attentions towards Tara. Spike stood and watched from the shadowed corner of the room, quite forgotten by the others in their oh-so happy reunion.



After they had reassured one another that they were all fine, Dawn turned to Willow once more, “What happened? Where were you guys?”



Quiet looks of apprehension and guilt passed between the quartet, “Don't worry about that now, Dawnie,” Willow placated.



“That's right, we're all here in one piece; no thanks to Willow's genius idea to perform that resurrection spell!” Anya offered brightly in a sarcastic manner, looking baffled at the reprimanding stares and glares she was receiving from her soon-to-be husband and his best Wicca friend.



The youngest member of the group frowned thoughtfully, “What resurrection spell? What is she talking about?”



“Dawn–”


“–What resurrection spell?” Dawn cut off the red-haired woman suspiciously.



Sighing wearily, Willow shot Anya another glare before speaking, “We, uh, we tried to resurrect Buffy.”



“What?!” The deep voice from the corner hollered.



“Shut up, Spike,” Xander said in a dismissing manner.



“You tried to resurrect Buffy..?” Dawn cried.



“It didn't work,” Tara added softly, gently stroking the younger girl's brown hair. “We're sorry we didn't tell you, Dawnie.”



A tear silently rolled down Dawn's cheek, “It didn't work...” She whispered sadly, brushing away the damp patch of her cheek.



“I'm sorry...” Willow offered lamely.



They all jumped as a crash resounded through the room. Turning to look at the crushed bed-side table, before looking at the cause of the destruction. The vampire glared murderously at the stupid quartet of humans before him. Without a single word he stalked out of the room, not once glancing back in their direction.

_-_

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& #8220;We have arrived.”



Buffy held her breath as Haldir's calm voice spoke with reverence and peace. The mixed group stood upon the peaked summit and glance out at the breathtaking vision before them. A deep sensation of harmony sang within her veins–feeling completely at peace for the first time in days, since she had dug her way out of her grave.



The tree-city before her was majestic, inconceivable and unparalleled in it's striking magnificence. Tremendously large trees with golden leaves and silver bark rose high into the sky, dwarfing all others around them. Below the peak of the hill, a golden gate had been raised to grant entry to the people of the woods. In the dawning day, the amber and gold leaves of the trees glistened against the sunlight, beckoning her to do their bidding...



She was struck dumb by the sheer immensity of the murmuring city below, hidden between the trunks of the trees and the massive lower branches that did not reach the baby blue sky above. Buffy had no words to say, she simply drank in the fading enchantment of the Elves' city.



“It is a dazzling sight, is it not?” The March Warden asked from her elbow, pride oozing from his voice.



Buffy nodded, unable to form the correct phrases to describe how the affluent beauty affected her. There was no paragon that could match this... Except perhaps the one true moment of happiness she had achieved in heaven.



“The Lady awaits your arrival,” he continued, “Let us make our way to the gates.”



And with that, the group of nine companions slowly descended from the peak of the hill to make their way steadily to the golden gates that shone like a beacon against the burning jewel of the sun in the sky.

_-_

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< b>Added Notes: I was going to have Galadriel and Buffy meet in this chapter, but it was becoming too long so I had to cut it short; they will now be meeting in the next chapter. Things never go to plan, but I hope you enjoyed the silliness of this chapter. Thanks for all the encouraging reviews, I love to hear all of your views and opinions!


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