Chapter Text
Bilbo stood brandishing his little elven letter opener between the fallen dwarrow king and the snarling white orc. The terrified hobbit was gasping for breath - nearly hyperventilating, if he were honest - and realized he was horribly, probably fatally, out of his league. He had killed the first orc that was about to execute Thorin more by surprise and luck than any possible skill, and he had no idea what he was going to do now. All he knew for certain is that he couldn't let the white abomination claim the life of his dwarf.
As Azog the Defiler, bane of the line of Durin, began to stalk closer, all movement stopped as a crackle of lightning arced through the air above their heads with sudden sound and actinic light. The initial spark quickly built, spreading into a ring of blue-white fire that spread into a window-like circle. The only sound to be heard as the unusual eldritch circle expanded was the crackle of the spreading fires that Gandalf had started. The only movement was the wind that fanned the flames and moaned through the few surviving trees that surrounded the cliff.
With startling abruptness, a petite body came plummeting through the hole in the sky, blonde hair trailing behind like a pennant. The loud thud that echoed as the small form belly flopped on the dry dirt separating Bilbo from the white orc made more than one dwarf wince in pained sympathy.
“Sonofabitch!” A distinctly feminine voice shouted from the crumpled body. “Giles! It didn't work! What do we do!” she continued shouting, even as she - amazingly enough - sprang to her feet seemingly unhurt. With a final snap and crackle of power, the ring of lightning above them winked out of existence, plunging the scene back into darkness relieved only by the scattered fire. The blonde female, of the race of Man, from the looks of her, spun around looking at everything around her. Her gaze landed first on the pale, frightened face of the trembling hobbit, but since he was obviously staring at something behind her, she spun around and recoiled at what she found.
“Whoa!” she exclaimed. “And I thought Fyarl demons were ugly!” Her hands came up in a defensive gesture, and her head tilted to one side.
“So what exactly are you?” she asked.
“Miss! Run!” Bilbo shouted. “He doesn't care if you're a girl! Azog will kill you! Run!”
The blonde snorted derisively. “Okay, first - I'm a woman, not a girl,” she corrected tartly. “Second, I don't run from a fight. That just makes it easier for them to stab you in the back. And third, uglier things than this creep have tried to kill me, and yet - I'm still standing.” She flexed her knees, crouching slightly as she studied the towering orc before her.
Azog snarled, and spat something at her in black speech.
“That sounded rude,” the blonde said. “Was that rude, little dude?”
“I don't know!” Bilbo shrieked. “I don't speak orc!”
The blonde nodded, as if coming to a decision. “Right. I'm just gonna assume it was rude, then, and respond accordingly. Hey, ugly!” she shouted at Azog. “Nice mace! Can I borrow it?”
Faster than the watching dwarrow could track, the blonde spun on her heel and her opposite boot slammed into Azog's head, causing the big orc to stumble. Completing the spin, she leapt into the air and with the foot on which she'd originally spun, snapped it upward to kick the orc in the wrist, launching the mace he was clutching skyward. The orc's bellow of pain did not completely cover the sound of his wrist snapping.
As easily as plucking a daisy from the ground, the blonde girl snatched the huge mace out of the air and swung it backhanded effortlessly, smashing Azog in the head and dropping him to the ground. The orcs around them howled in rage and surged forward.
They were answered by the battle cries of the dwarrow, who had charged down the toppled tree and rushed to the rescue of their fallen king, the brave hobbit, and the mysterious girl who had dealt with Azog so easily.
The blonde was right in the thick of the fight with the dwarrow. “See, if all civilians could fight like you guys,” she said, even as she crushed the skull of one orc with her appropriated mace and kick another one so hard it flew back 10 feet, “I wouldn't have to get so wiggy about people being fray adjacent.” A third orc fell to her attack, even as she kept talking as though having a casual conversation.
“I dunno what these ugly mofo's are, but they are sure pinging my Slayer senses,” she quipped. “But hey, they die easy-peasy, so that's of the good, I guess.”
“Less talkin’, more killin’!” Dwalin shouted at her.
“Hey! I don't tell you how to polish your head, you don't tell me how to kill demons!” the blonde shot back. Considering she had already accounted for twice as many orcs as the rest of the Company, Dwalin really didn't have room to complain.
A force of orcs pushed forward at the fearsome blonde, trying to cut her off from the dwarrow and surround her. She twirled through them all with effortless grace, almost as though she were dancing. None of their weapons even came close to touching her, but they did press her back far enough that two of them were able to snatch up their unconscious leader and drag him off into the darkness.
A new, unexpected sound cut through the noise of combat - the shrill cry of an eagle. Massive winged shapes, as big as draft horses, suddenly swooped out of the night sky and began plucking orcs and wargs off the ground and hurling them off the cliff. The blonde girl ended the last opponent she was facing, and spun to look for her next foe just in time to see one of the enormous birds pluck up the unconscious form the short man had been protecting, and carry him away. A dark shape fell from the unconscious body's arm and clattered to the ground. She didn't know what it was, exactly, but she recognized a weapon when she saw it and darted over to pick it up. One by one, the other men who had rushed to join the fight were picked up and carried away, leaving the blonde to face the remaining orcs alone.
With the stolen mace in one hand and the rescued object in the other, she smirked at the approaching creatures who thought they had her cornered. She grinned at them.
“Sorry, fellas,” she quipped. “Looks like my ride's here!” She spun on her heel and raced for the cliff's edge.
With shocking grace, she leapt into the open air. As she hoped, she landed lightly on the broad, feathered back of a giant eagle, and was carried away into the sky with the others.
****************
The rising sun found them all being deposited on a tall stone feature, dark silhouettes against a brightening sky. The blonde was the last one to be dropped, and she immediately turned to stroke the eagle's breast. “Thank you so much!” she exclaimed. “I wouldn't be afraid of flying if every trip was as amazing as that one! You're the bomb!”
The eagle made a chirring noise and bent down to nudge the blonde with his beak, and she giggled. After it launched itself skyward, she turned to find 11 pairs of angry, suspicious eyes focused on her, with a variety of weapons held ready. The 12th set of eyes - the shortest of the group - just looked at her with wary curiosity.
She swung the mace she was still carrying up onto her shoulder in a non-threatening position, and smiled brightly at the group. “Hi, guys!” she chirped. “What's the what?”
“Who in Mordor are you?” Dwalin growled, gripping his axe tightly as he glared at the slender female. “Where did ye come from, an’ what are ye doin’ here?”
The blonde made a pouty face at the glowering dwarf. “Rude!” she chided. “Polite people introduce themselves first before asking a person's name,” she continued in a slightly sing-song voice, as if repeating something she'd been told numerous times before.
Balin elbowed his brother sharply in the side. The big, bald dwarf may have forgotten how effective the petite female was with her captured weapon, but Balin certainly hadn't forgotten how efficiently she was smashing orc heads not very long ago. Balin pushed himself forward through the clustered members of the Company, and let his sword drop to a less threatening, but still ready, position. He bowed slightly. “Balin, son of Fundin, at your service, miss,” he said.
Blinking slightly in surprise, the young woman dropped her hand holding the mace to her side, letting the head of the weapon drop to the ground with an audible thud. She curtsied to the white haired dwarf. “Buffy Summers… uh… daughter of Joyce… at yours,” she replied tentatively, obviously not used to the style of address. Balin offered her his kindest smile.
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Buffy, even if the circumstances are most unfortunate. My brother may have been a bit… more direct than I would have preferred,” behind him, Dwalin snorted, and growled. Balin continued as though he hadn't heard. “But his questions are valid, and of some concern to us. From where do you come, and why are you here?” he finally asked.
Her sunny expression slid off her face, and settled into one of sadness and confusion. “Honestly, Mr. Balin, I don't know why I'm here, or how I got here.” She looked around at the 11 angry faces arrayed against her, and her eyes tracked across the distant horizon. “Based on the accents I've heard so far, and looking at the scenery, I'm gonna guess I'm somewhere in the Land of Tweed, but I don't know enough geography to guess exactly where I ended up. Any of you guys know how far away California is?” she asked.
She was met by confused silence. “What is tweed?” one of the younger-looking ones muttered.
“I dunno. What's a California?” he was answered by the brunette standing next to him.
Buffy's face paled. “California? You know… the state? West coast of America? Land of Hollywood and silicon? California?” she tried to explain. She was just met with further confusion.
Balin took a step closer. “Miss Buffy, I must apologize, but none of us have ever heard any of those terms before,” he said gently. The blonde was starting to breathe more rapidly, her eyes widening to the point he could clearly see the whites around the bright green of her irises.
Before she could descend into full blown panic, a noise behind the group captured their attention, and as one they spun around to confront this new disturbance. Gandalf had stood up from where he had been assisting Oin with working on Thorin, and the now conscious king was struggling to stand.
“Where is the burglar,” his deep voice rumbled. “Where is he?”
Once he'd gained his feet, the Company moved out of the way so the injured dwarf could stagger towards the timid hobbit.
“I said you should not have come,” the injured dwarf growled, gaze intense on the small form that managed to pull himself straight and stand solidly in the face of the king's apparent ire. “I said you had no place here, and you would end up getting yourself or one of us killed!” Thorin stalked closer to the hobbit with each word he spoke. For his part, Bilbo paled, but refused to back down.
Thorin stepped up close to him, and reached out to grip the hobbit's shoulders, staring intensely into the upraised face. The dwarf's eyes flickered over the resolute expression, before he suddenly wrapped his arms around the smaller body and pulled him into a tight embrace.
“I have never been so wrong before in my life!” he said. Bilbo returned the hug, and Thorin rested his chin on top of the curly copper hair. “Thank you for saving my life, burglar,” he murmured.
“Awww!” Buffy cooed quietly. “They are so into each other!” she whispered. Only Balin was close enough to hear her.
The Company cheered, most of them in celebration of their restored king, some of them in happiness of him finally accepting their burglar. After a few seconds, Thorin released his tight hug and stepped back, looking around until his eyes landed on the petite blonde standing next to his chief advisor. “And who is this?” he asked.
Buffy made a scoffing noise. “So it's not just Mr. Grumpypants who jumps straight to asking names without introducing themselves,” she snarked.
Balin cleared his throat, amused at the description of his brother but swallowing it down for now. “Miss Buffy, allow me to introduce you to Thorin Oakenshield, the leader of our Company. Thorin, this is Buffy Summers, daughter of Joyce. We were just trying to determine where she came from and how she came to be here,” he explained. Buffy stared at the dark-haired, glaring dwarf.
“Wait!” she exclaimed. “Did you say Thorin Oakenshield?” she demanded. Balin looked confused.
“Aye, lass, that I did,” he answered.
“Thorin… Oakenshield… as in, Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King Under the Mountain… that Thorin Oakenshield?!?” she exclaimed. The Company tensed, bringing weapons up again to be ready. How did this strange child of Man know who Thorin was, before ever meeting any of them?
Buffy's wide-eyed green gaze switched to Bilbo, and she pointed at him. “You!” she snapped. “Is your name Bilbo Baggins?” She dropped the two items she had been holding and raised both hands into the air beside her head to waggle them both before she continued speaking. “The greatest little hobbit of them all?!”
Bilbo straightened, confused. “Well… well… I don't know about that last part, but yes, I am Bilbo Baggins.” He bowed slightly. “At your service,” he added automatically.
Buffy's gaze shifted to the white haired dwarf beside her. “You said your name was Balin, right?” she asked. Balin was starting to grow even more concerned, but he nodded. Her attention switched to the rest of the dwarrow.
“Oh God,” she mumbled. “I'm gonna say some names,” she stated. “You guys tell me which ones I get wrong. Dwalin?” She was answered by a growl.
“Dori? Nori? Ori? Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Fili, Kili, Oin, Gloin?” As each dwarf she named startled, confirming that she had named them all correctly, she only seemed to panic further. She threaded both hands into her golden hair and clutched at her head.
“OH MY GOD!” she suddenly shrieked, startling them all. “I'M IN ‘THE HOBBIT’!”
Bilbo pulled himself erect into stiff, outraged indignation. “I beg your pardon?!” he demanded. She waved away his concern with a dismissive gesture.
“Not like that,” she mumbled. “That would be ‘the hobbit's in me,’ and that would be wrong. I'm not that kind of girl.” The others just stared at her, gaping, and Bilbo flushed beet red. Buffy pulled at her hair, staring straight ahead but seeing none of them. “Oh, my God! Oh my God, oh my God, ohmygod!” she moaned. “How did this happen?!”
“The Powers That Be decided you needed a reward,” a new voice suddenly said.
Thorin was stunned by how quickly the girl went from bemoaning the situation to snatching up a mace that looked suspiciously like the one Azog had been wielding, and spun to confront the strange voice.
They were met with the sight of a relatively small Man sitting on the edge of the mesa on which they were gathered, his legs dangling over the edge as he kicked his feet idly. He seemed to be wearing a leather coat, over a hideously colored and patterned tunic of some sort, with an oddly shaped hat perched on his head. He smiled broadly at the blonde. “Hiya, Slayer!” he said cheerfully.
“You!” Buffy hissed. She started stalking towards the seated man. “Didn't I say something about wearing your ribcage for a hat, the last time we met?” she growled. The dwarrow stared at her in shock.
The man clutched his hat to his head and scrambled to his feet, backing away from the enraged slayer. “Now Buffster, don't be like that,” he cajoled. “Don't dismember the messenger!”
“Whistler, I don't care if you're just the messenger!” she shouted, making a few practice swings with the mace she was holding. “Make with the ‘splainy before I make with the brainy!” she threatened, holding up the mace to illustrate.
“Alright, alright! Whoa, whoa, whoa!” The short man - Whistler, apparently - held up both hands as if trying to hold her back. “I can't say nothing if you smash my head in!” he protested. Buffy hesitated, as if she was considering his words, then shrugged and took another step closer.
“I think I can figure things out on my own,” she said casually. Whistler paled further, and slapped both hands on top of his hat.
“I can tell this is not gonna be a productive meeting!” he said rapidly. “I'll come back at a better time!”
There were various cries of shock and startled oaths as the strange man disappeared in a flash of light. Buffy let the mace drop once more.
“Dammit!” she growled. Then she heaved a sigh and turned back to the others. “Well, that answers at least one question,” she groused.
Gandalf moved forward to interpose himself between the unusual blonde and the rest of the Company. “Miss Buffy, I am Gandalf-”
“The gray,” she interrupted tiredly. “Also known as Mithrander, a.k.a. Tharkun, a.k.a. The Storm Crow, a.k.a. Disturber of the Peace, a.k.a. Olórin,” she continued. The tall Maia actually startled upon hearing that last name. “I've heard of you.”
“Yes, well…” Gandalf sputtered. “Young lady, what just happened? Where did that man go? Who was he?” he asked.
“Why did he call you a slayer?” Thorin growled. Buffy scowled at him.
“See, this is why I don't like to lead with that!” she complained. “People always get the wrong idea! And it's The Slayer, capital ‘S’, not a slayer. It's a title. I guess it could be considered a job description,” she mused. “But I am not just The Slayer!”
“Be that as it may,” Gandalf interrupted. “I do believe some explanations are in order.”
Buffy shook her head. “Yeah, I can see that,” she agreed. “But they need to wait until we're down from here, at least. Not a big fan of heights right now.”
Gandalf looked around at the area they were occupying. “Indeed,” he agreed. “If memory serves, there should be some steps around here we can utilize to make our descent,” he continued. The Company split up, and began searching.
Buffy walked back over to where she had been standing earlier, and retrieved the object she had dropped. “Hey, Hotty McHotpants!” she called out. When the dwarrow turned to stare at her in confusion, she grinned brightly at Thorin. “Ya dropped this!” She brandished the item she was holding, and the dwarf was surprised to recognize his oaken shield.
“How did you…” he began, but his words trailed off in confusion. She just smiled wider.
“When I saw it fall after Big Bird snatched you away, I grabbed it.” She shrugged slightly. “It seemed important, and you don't just leave a good weapon laying around! Now, knowing who you are, I'm especially glad I grabbed it!”
A shout distracted them from their conversation, and they turned to see Bofur and Bifur kneeling to peer over the edge. “Tharkun, are ye sure these are supposed to be steps?” the pigtailed dwarf asked, looking highly uncertain.
“Of course I'm sure!” Gandalf blustered, moving to stand over the kneeling dwarf. “We should be able to… oh, dear,” he trailed off in consternation as he examined the steps. The rest of the Company, and Buffy, joined them.
“I don't know that I'd call ‘em steps, meself,” Bofur observed calmly. The series of ledges under consideration appeared to each be roughly eight feet in height, and carried on down to the valley floor approximately a thousand feet below. Buffy shrugged casually.
“Yeah, I can do that,” she said with a nod, garnering herself even more stares from the dwarrow. “But it would probably be best if we waited for more light.”
The sun had still not fully cleared the horizon, and so much of each step was still plunged in uncertain shadow. The dwarrow began grumbling, sorting through the scant amount of gear they had managed to retain after their precipitous trip through Goblin Town. Beside her, Buffy noticed Thorin suddenly stiffen, and stare off at the horizon.
When Buffy followed his gaze, and after searching the horizon - and her memory - she figured out he had to be staring at the lone peak silhouetted against the skyline.
“Is that home?” she asked quietly. The dark-haired dwarf simply nodded. On his other side, Bilbo laced his much smaller fingers into the dwarf's big calloused ones, and squeezed in silent support.
“How long has it been?” Bilbo asked.
“Over a hundred and fifty years since I've seen it,” Thorin whispered back. One by one, the other dwarrow noticed their king's distraction, and turned their focus to the distant sight as well. The feelings of reverent awe and amazement drew the group closer together, so they could draw support from one another. Buffy quietly moved to the back of the group, not wanting to intrude on the emotional moment.
She found herself next to the hovering gray wizard. “You seem exceptionally well informed, miss,” he said casually. Buffy smirked slightly.
“New Giles,” she responded, “you are absolutely terrible at fishing for information.”
Gandalf grumbled at her. “My name is Gandalf, young lady,” he grumped.
“Yeah, sure, you betcha, N.G.,” she answered. Gandalf glared at her, but she was steadily watching the dwarrow. “I'll be happy to tell you guys as much as I know, but I only wanna tell it once, so you're gonna have to wait just like everybody else.” With that said, she walked over and studied the steps again, cocking her head from side to side as her gaze traveled over each one.
“So!” she exclaimed brightly. “How you guys wanna do this?” she asked.
Startling slightly, the dwarrow roused from their contemplation of the Lonely Mountain, and began to focus once more on the challenge set before them. “Do we have enough rope to reach the bottom?” Balin asked. Gloin shook his head negatively.
“Between all of us, we can probably put together enough rope to reach three, possibly four steps, but it would mean someone would have to free-climb down with the ropes for us to complete the next leg of the climb,” he said grimly. “And that doesn't account for Thorin's injuries, or Bilbo's lack of climbing skills.”
“I say!” Bilbo protested. “I'm actually a rather good climber! There isn't a tree in the Shire I haven't scaled!”
Gloin graced him with a slightly patronizing smile. “I'm afraid that climbing down rocks is a bit different from climbing up trees,” he told the hobbit.
“Nah, not really,” Buffy interrupted. “And you really need to stop underestimating Bilbo. He really is the greatest little hobbit of them all. There's even a song and everything to prove it!”
Bilbo yet again flushed red, and there was much staring at the confusing blonde.
“Anyway,” she went on. “Let me check something, and I'll let you know if I can help.”
Before anyone even thought to stop her, Buffy darted towards the edge of the Carrock, and leapt off the edge. With a cry of shock and fear, the Company rushed to the edge as well, expecting to see the blonde's broken body sprawled some distance below them.
Instead, what they saw was her nimbly leaping from point to point, until she was down three steps and finally stopped to turn back and look up at them. Her smile was so bright, they could easily see it from where they were clustered.
“Yeah, this won't be any problem!” she called up to them. Then she suddenly ran across the step upon which she was standing, and leapt up.
Like a mountain goat, she bounced from point to point, steadily climbing higher, until she somersaulted onto the top where they had been deposited. She was only slightly winded, but was smiling radiantly. “That was fun!” she exclaimed. “Who's first - Bilbo, or Hottie McHotpants?”
“Who is first for what?” Bilbo asked suspiciously. “And what, exactly, is a hottie mc… hotpants?”
Buffy giggled. “Where I come from, when you find someone physically attractive, we say they're ‘hot’,” she explained. One delicate hand gestured vaguely in Thorin's direction. “When they're sexy as well as attractive? Then we call ‘em Hotpants. So, Hottie McHotpants.” She stated it with a great deal of surety, gesturing to encompass Thorin from head to toe with a single wave.
When the brooding dwarf fully understood what the young female was implying, his face bloomed red, and he scowled. “See!” Buffy exclaimed, pointing at him. “He's got the whole broodfest thing going on, and between that, the hair, and those eyes - much with the hotness!” Then she held up her hand, flat palm directed at the king in exile.
“Just ‘cause I think he's pretty, don't get any ideas,” she said primly. “I am so over my ‘in love with the broody bad boy’ phase!” She insisted.
That did not help with the glaring dwarf's embarrassment. Neither did Dwalin's choked laughter as the big bald dwarf tried to smother the sound.
Bilbo was almost as red as Thorin. “Miss Buffy,” he finally managed to say. “I still do not understand what you mean by who is first,” he insisted.
She looked at him and blinked a few times. “To get you down the mountain,” she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “The guys said you and Sir Broods-A-Lot over there would have the most difficulty climbing. I figure it's just faster if I carry you!”
All fifteen individuals present just stared at her, and she smiled brightly back at them. “Well, time's a-wasting!” she exclaimed. “Let's get this party started!” She began moving towards Bilbo.
Even as the hobbit held up both hands to ward off the approaching blonde, she blithely ignored all of his sputtered, incoherent protests, and scooped him up into her arms. Before anyone could even think to stop her, she sprang over the edge much as she had done previously, only this time to the accompaniment of a wail of fear.
Rushing to the edge, the Company and Gandalf watched in amazement as the energetic young woman bounced her way down four steps, and settled Bilbo safely on the rocky shelf. She crouched beside him for a moment, obviously making sure he was steady on his feet, before she quickly scurried her way back to the top again. “Okay, Mr. Hotpants! You're up next!” she stated.
Thorin immediately backed away, holding up one imperious hand. “Absolutely not!” he snapped. “I am not a piece of luggage to be toted about at will!”
Buffy snorted, and kept approaching. “Obviously,” she drawled. “Luggage doesn't complain so much. Or brood,” she added. “Of course, if you were luggage, I'd just chuck you over the edge!”
Thorin gaped at her in surprise, which is all the opening she needed to dart in and heave him over her shoulder in a fireman's carry. She made the action seem effortless, with no sign of strain picking the stout form up at all.
“Put me down!” Thorin demanded, kicking his feet and trying not to actually kick the young female.
With a resounding crack, Buffy smacked him on the butt with an open palm, and the dwarf bellowed in shock at the stinging pain.
“Knock it off!” the blonde commanded. “I swear, you make me drop you, and you're not gonna like what I do next!”
The dwarrow gaped at her in shock at both the sheer audacity of her actions, and the casual display of strength. None of them moved fast enough to stop her as she headed down the steep steps once more. This time, instead of a wail of fear, her movements were punctuated by vicious swearing in Khuzdul.
Thorin was securely deposited on the same plateau as Bilbo, and before the king in exile could even react, the blonde was off again. She was breathing heavily and smiling brightly as she rejoined the others.
“Man! For a so-called king, he's sure got a potty mouth!” she huffed, catching her breath. She looked around at the others. “Okay, who's got the rope?” she asked.
****************
Ultimately, Buffy herself served as the anchor point to lower the remaining 13 travelers down the steps. After the last individual was lowered, she simply coiled up the rope and bounced her way down to where the Company waited. When they began the next segment of descent, Bilbo politely requested that he be allowed to attempt the climb himself, and with a knowing smile, Buffy stepped back and nodded at him. Thorin was not nearly so polite. He brandished Orcrist in her general direction, and threatened to have Dwalin throw her off the steps if she grabbed him a second time. Buffy snorted.
“I mean, yeah sure, you could have him get physical with me, but can you really afford to have his arm broken right now?” she asked innocently.
Dwalin scoffed. “I'd like t’ see ye try,” he growled. Buffy smiled even more widely.
“Alright, Mr. Grumpypants,” she said. “I'll make you a deal. Since you are definitely going to need both arms in working order to get down these steps, let's do this. Once we get to the bottom of this cliff, we'll go three rounds - no weapons. If you beat me, I'll shut up and be a quiet, good little girl and meekly do whatever I'm told. If I beat you, you have to call me Queen Buffy, She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed, and do everything I tell you for the next week,” she stated confidently. Almost smugly. “And I get to call you Minion for the next week,” she added on quickly.
Dwalin looked her over from head to toe, and smirked. “Sounds fair enough,” he grumbled.
“Dwalin!” Dori protested, outraged. “She is but a child! You would lay hands on her in such an ungentlemanly fashion!?” he protested angrily.
Buffy smiled at the silver-haired dwarf kindly. “You're a sweetie, Mr. Silver Fox,” she said. “But I'm a big girl. I'll be fine.” She turned back to Dwalin and thrust her hand out.
“Shake on it,” she said.
Still smirking, Dwalin moved forward to grab her wrist in a traditional warrior's hand clasp. Instead of pressuring the grasp to make her flinch and reconsider her challenge, he instead found himself struggling not to grimace at how strong her grip was. Once they'd shaken and the challenge was accepted, Buffy turned to Thorin.
“Okay, here's the deal, King Hotpants,” she said. “I won't carry you down any more steps, unless and until you ask for it,” she agreed. The dwarf king relaxed slightly. “But!” she exclaimed, stopping him before he felt too triumphant. “But, if you pop even a single stitch, I'm gonna grind pepper in it, then stitch it back closed, just to make a point. Then I'm gonna wrap you up in a blanket and carry you on my back like a papoose, until your medic tells me you're fit to rejoin polite society,” she threatened.
From somewhere behind her, one of the dwarrow snorted, and mumbled. “She'll be carryin’ him fer th’ rest o’ his life,” one of them whispered. She wasn't familiar with them enough to know who spoke, but the glare on Thorin's face was a good clue that he knew exactly who had spoken.
“M-m-miss Buffy?” a tentative voice interrupted, and Buffy turned her smile to the hobbit in the party.
“Yeah?” she asked cheerfully. “What can I do for you, little dude?”
Bilbo gave her a confused look, then shook his head. “What… ah… what are you going to threaten me with?” he finally asked.
Her expression softened noticeably. “Not a thing,” she admitted. At his confused and startled look, she chuckled. “You, Mr. Hobbity-hobbit, are burdened with a rare and much-coveted super power.” Now he looked really surprised, and several of the other members of the Company stared at him. Buffy giggled.
“You have the much sought after super power of Common Sense - an ability in ridiculously short supply,” she explained. Gandalf choked on his laughter, and Bilbo blushed. Buffy turned back to the others. “Let's get going! Bilbo will speak up and let me know if he has any problems, and I don't know which one of you is the medic, but I expect you to rat his king-ness out and say something if he starts having a problem. Who wants to go down first?”
****************
The next step the Company descended was fraught with tension. Dwalin went down the rope first, to be ready to catch and stabilize the injured king if he needed it. Thorin went next, and it was obvious to everyone watching that the climb had been challenging for him. One by one, the others descended, until only Bilbo and Buffy remained. She could tell the shorter male was nervous, but determined. Buffy placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, stopping him before he began climbing down.
“Bilbo,” she said quietly, the most serious he had heard her since she literally fell out of the sky. “There's no shame in asking for help. That's a lesson I still need to be reminded of quite often,” she told him. “I really do think you've got this, and I promise, I won't let you fall. But I get it,” she added with a crooked smile. “You've got to make them see you as more than just the clever little hobbit that needs to be bailed out of trouble all the time. It's exhausting, having to prove yourself over and over again.”
Bilbo relaxed at her words. “You really do understand,” he breathed, relieved. She nodded.
“Let's get you down there. Just take it slow, and whatever you do, be confident in yourself. The single worst thing you can do is to start doubting yourself halfway down,” she told him. “Now, let's get you down there!”
With a firm nod of agreement, Bilbo started his descent. It wasn't long before Buffy was able to collect the rope and bounce her way down to where the Company had gathered.
Thorin was off by himself, sitting on the edge of the step, staring off into the distance. Even from where she stood, she could tell that the dwarf's color was off - pale, bordering on gray. She'd been that hurt before. The others were taking a few moments to gather themselves before they tackled the next stage, and Buffy quietly moved over and sat down beside him. Thorin growled at her.
Buffy snorted. “You need a lot more practice to make that noise sound scary,” she chided. Then she, too, turned to gaze out at the horizon. After a few seconds, she spoke quietly, just loud enough that only Thorin could hear her.
“That hurt a lot more than you thought it would, didn't it?” she asked. The king in exile simply grunted. “King Thorin, I really do understand,” she said. The use of his actual name had him turning to look at her. “Your majesty, I'm not trying to undermine you,” she continued, not turning to look at him. “You have the potential to be the best king you guys have seen since your ancestor led your people. Durin, right?” she asked. Thorin startled, but said nothing.
“See, here's the problem,” Buffy said, idly kicking her feet. “I've got a pretty good idea about what's coming. You are heading into much badness, and you can not afford to be injured, or appear weak. But these guys?” She tilted her head back towards the Company. “These guys already know you're a total badass. If they didn't think you were the best of the best, they wouldn't have followed you on this fool's errand. By refusing help, and trying to be the tough guy, all you're doing is making yourself weak and slowing your recovery. And believe me, with what's coming, you're gonna need to be in peak physical shape.”
Thorin grunted at her again, scowling. “How could you possibly know what is going to happen?” he growled. Buffy shrugged.
“How did I fall out of a hole in the sky?” she countered. “King Thorin, I will gladly tell you and the others everything I know. But really? I wanna get down off this rock as quickly as possible. Me and heights? Definitely non-mixy things at the moment.”
Thorin stared at her silently for a few moments. “I don't understand half of what you just said,” he finally stated. Buffy giggled.
“I had an idea,” she finally said. “What if I can suggest a way to get you down these steps that won't compromise your dignity, but will also keep you from getting hurt even worse?”
Now Thorin looked intrigued. He was willing to admit, only to himself, that he was hurting much more than he expected he would. If she had a way to get him down the Carrock without humiliating him or making his injuries worse, he was willing to listen. “What are you suggesting?” he finally asked.
Smiling brightly, Buffy popped to her feet and held a hand down to help him up. “Come and see, Mr. Hotpants!” she exclaimed. Thorin rolled his eyes, but accepted the helping hand, only slightly surprised by how easily she hoisted him to his feet.
Leading the way back over to the group, Buffy scooped up the rope they'd been using, and with just a few twists, had two loops fixed into it - one at the very end, and one about four feet higher. “Here's my idea,” she said, holding up the loops. “You stand in that one, and you hold on to this one,” she indicated the appropriate loop. “Then I lower you down.”
Thorin looked at the rope skeptically. “And you think you can hold my weight?” he asked doubtfully.
“Well, I did already carry your kingly ass down four steps without a rope,” she snarked. “Mr. Beefcake Grumpypants seems to be the biggest one of you dudes, and he doesn't look like he's hurt at all. Why don't I lower him first so he can test it?”
Dwalin glowered at her. “What does that mean - beef cake? Are you calling me a cow?!” he demanded.
“No, but I might call you bull headed!” she snapped. “Beefcake is slang - it means someone who is very muscular and pleasing to look at,” she explained.
Dwalin flushed bright red. Part of him wanted to be very flattered, while part of him wanted to be very embarrassed. He fell back on his typical response when he didn't know what else to do. He growled at her.
Thoroughly unimpressed, Buffy rolled her eyes again. “It's this, or King Hottie takes three times as long to recover as he normally would, or he breaks down and asks me to carry him,” she said. “I guess there's a fourth option, that I heave him over the side, but that would be all kinds of counterproductive.”
Ignoring yet another variation on the ‘hotpants’ nickname, Thorin turned his intense gaze on the captain of the royal guards. “Do it,” he ordered. “Even if she drops you, the fall isn't that high. You shouldn't be hurt that much,” he rumbled.
“Your vote of confidence is so overwhelming,” Buffy snarked. “Let's get moving, Beefcake. I do not like being up this high, and would much prefer being on the ground ASAP.”
There was much confused blinking, and the blonde Slayer heaved a deep sigh. “ASAP - A.S.A.P. - As Soon As Possible. It's an acronym. Like SNAFU or FUBAR.” Blink, blink. Another sigh. “I'll explain later,” she sighed. She walked over to the edge of the step, and waited.
Dwalin joined her, obviously reluctant, but he sat down and fitted his boot into the lower loop and his hand into the upper one. With a nod, Buffy braced, and he slithered over the edge. Within seconds, he was back on solid ground and getting himself out of the rope.
“As long as the knot holds, it seems safe enough!” he shouted back up. “Send Hotpants down!”
Fili and Kili howled in laughter, and Thorin made a distinctly rude gesture at his smirking cousin.
****************
More quickly than the Company had expected, they were down from the Carrock and gathering once more on the grassy plain. Buffy handed the coiled rope back to the red-headed dwarf she thought was called Gloin, and dusted her hands clean. Turning to Gandalf, she smiled widely at the tall Maia.
“So, N.G., are we actually in your buddy's territory, or are we looking at some walking?” she asked.
Gandalf looked startled. “We are perhaps a day away from Beorn's lands,” he confirmed. “But how do you…”
“Naht!” the petite blonde made a quelling noise, holding up one hand. “It has been an incredibly long couple of days, for everyone,” she said after she cut the gray wizard off. “I need some food, and if I remember right, the big guy won't allow hunting on his lands. So Hottie McHotpants is gonna park his butt in the shade and rest, while I go hunt us up some protein.” She looked around at the others. “You guys get a fire going and find some water. I'll be back as quick as I can.”
Thorin glowered at her. “We do not take orders from a Man,” he snarled.
“I beg your pardon?!” Buffy squealed, whirling to glare at him. She reached up to cup her modest bosom with both hands, and jiggled them at Thorin. “Apparently, you're also a blind king! I don't know how you dwarfs do it, but these,” and she jiggled herself more emphatically, “don't grow on men! I am one hundred percent female, thank you very much - even if I can kick your ass!”
Thorin was not the only dwarrow to turn bright red at the blonde's brazenness. Ori uttered a strangled ‘eep!’ sound and turned so red, it looked as though he were about to pass out, and Fili tripped over his own feet, falling face-first to the ground.
“Now sit your ass down and get some rest!” Buffy snapped. “If you're going to get stronger, you have ta eat something. And there's a lot of stuff involved in making a decent camp that I don't know how to do. But thanks to Giles,” and there was a distinct hitch in her voice when she said the name, “I do know how to hunt! Now. Are you gonna listen, or do me and Beefcake Grumpypants gotta throw down right now?” She planted her clenched fists on her hips as she glared at all of them.
Thorin's breath came in short snorts as he struggled to control his anger. “You should not go alone,” he finally ground out.
Buffy nodded. “Fair enough,” she said. Her gaze swiveled to Bilbo. “Little dude, you know plants, right?”
Bilbo startled slightly. “Y-y-yes,” he managed to say.
“Coolness. You're with me. I'll take care of the animal, you handle the vegetable, and we'll go catch dinner.” She spun on her heel, and began stalking towards the nearest treeline. She pointed back at the group.
“And one of you guys keep an eye on my new toy!” she called back. “It's pretty good for a fight, pretty lousy for hunting dinner. Keep up, my dude!”
With a panicked look between the rapidly disappearing blonde and the fuming king, Bilbo scurried to catch up with the strange young woman. Fili was still sprawled on the ground, staring after the duo.
“I think I'm in love!” he sighed. Thorin snorted - he couldn't help it, despite how angry he was. He'd heard that refrain often enough from both of his nephews over the years.
“Should one of us follow?” Dwalin asked in Khuzdul. Thorin shook his head.
“No. Let her learn her lesson,” the king growled. “Fili, Kili, you go hunting in the opposite direction. Maybe you'll actually have some luck. Ori and Gloin, see what you can do to find water. The rest of you, find a suitable campsite.”
Fili scrambled to his feet, and Kili moved to grab the mace Buffy had taken from the pale orc. He grunted and jerked, nearly dislocating his shoulder when he tried to lift it as casually as the blonde had swung it.
“Mahal!” he exclaimed. “Just how strong is she?” Kili marveled.
Dwalin stalked over and tried to snatch the ugly weapon from the younger dwarf, and nearly dropped it on his own foot in surprise. He whistled through his teeth.
“Still think facing her in unarmed combat is a good idea?” Dori asked innocently.
***************
Full darkness had fallen, and the Company, as well as Gandalf and Buffy, were seated around a very small campfire, finishing off the admittedly surprising amount of food Buffy and Bilbo had foraged. The Slayer had led the hobbit back to the makeshift camp carrying the carcass of a roe deer, a small wild pig, and two rabbits. Bilbo was carrying an armful of wild potatoes and carrots, with a good quantity of mushrooms stashed in his pockets. Fili and Kili had managed to bring down a trio of pheasants to add to their supplies. Buffy had insisted that as she supplied the meat, someone else could clean the kills.
Buffy was making happy noises as she consumed her share of the meal. “Mr. Bombur, I gotta tell ya,” she finally said, leaning back. “If you can cook this good out in the wild with nothing but a couple of rocks and a big stick, I can't wait to see what you can do in a real kitchen!” she said enthusiastically. The ginger dwarf blushed, and offered up a pleased smile.
“Now, young lady,” Gandalf said sternly, glaring at the young woman. “We are off the Carrack, we have all been fed, and we have all had some rest. I do believe that the time for some explanations has arrived.”
Buffy stared at the gray wizard intensely, before expelling a harsh breath through her nose. She leaned forward and braced her elbows on her knees, lacing her fingers together and letting her hands dangle. “Fair enough,” she said with a sigh. “This is going to be really hard to believe, and really, really hard for me to explain,” she said, voice serious.
“If ya promise not t’ kill me, I can help!” another voice spoke suddenly.
Kili shrieked in fright and flung himself backwards off the log he'd been sharing with his brother. Fili swung blindly with a knife clutched in his fist.
The strange Man from earlier yelped and ducked. Somehow, he had suddenly appeared directly between the two brothers. “Hey! Easy! That's my favorite hat!” the man whined. Fili had managed to skewer the odd headgear with his wild swing, and if the stranger hadn't ducked, would have lost an eye to the blonde prince's blade.
“Whistler!” Buffy snarled.
Still cringing, the strange man waved a little stick from which a white handkerchief dangled. “I come in peace!” he shouted quickly. “Please don't kill me! I have presents!”
Buffy halted mid motion as she started to rise, and stared at the newcomer. “Start talking,” she snapped. “And they better be good prezzies.” She settled back onto her seat.
“If ya accept ‘em, yer gonna like ‘em!” the Man assured her.
“Miss Buffy, who is this Man?” Thorin demanded.
Buffy snorted derisively. “He's not a man,” she said.
“Hey!”
“He's a Balance Demon,” she continued, completely ignoring the newcomer's protest. “He's a messenger boy for the Powers That Be. He's a pain in my ass, but he's mostly harmless.”
“Hey!”
Buffy rolled her eyes. “Start talking, Whistler. What is going on, and what are you doing here?”
Whistler retrieved his hat from Fili, and stared mournfully at the new hole in it. He settled it back on his head, and took a deep breath. “Okay, Buffster here, can give you the complete 411 later. I'm just gonna hit the highlights of why she's here.”
He leaned back and made himself comfortable. “So you all saw that big hole in the sky that she fell out of, right? Well, that hole was actually a portal to another universe.” He looked around at the group to make sure they were all paying attention.
“Y'see, Buffy, here, is the real deal - a genuine hero.” At her glare, he quickly corrected himself. “Heroine, I mean. A real heroine. The world she comes from, it's got these hot spots all over the place. On her world, they're called Hellmouths, and they're thin spots or doorways to Hell dimensions. I know you guys don't know what Hell is, but let me put it this way. Those dimensions? They make Mordor look like a fun, sunny vacation paradise. And the evil critters that come from them? Let's just say Morgoth ain't got nothing on those plug uglies. I think you guys call his minion on this plane The Great Evil or something. Yeah,” Whistler scoffed. “Some of the things Little Miss Slayer Queen has faced would make that poser their bitch.” There were various noises of disbelief and discomfort from the dwarrow.
“Believe me or don't, not my problem,” Whistler said with a shrug. “Either way, the last BBEG - that's big bad evil god - that Buffy went up against was an actual Hell goddess named Glorificus. That looney tune had figured out that Buffy's baby sister, Dawn, had extra-magical blood. If she could spill little sister's blood in a special ritual, Glory would be able to tear a hole in reality and go home. Set herself up as the Queen of All She Surveyed or some such rot.” Whistler leaned back again, and lifted his gaze to the stars.
“The problem? Well, two problems,” he corrected himself again. “Number one is, little Dawnie wouldn't survive the ritual. And number two, neither would anything else. If the portal had gotten big enough for Glory to run home, all the different dimensions connected to Buffy's home plane would have collapsed. Total apocalypse, end of everything. Dawn got captured, and Glory started the ritual. That light show you saw? That was the portal starting to open.”
“Whistler, what happened to Dawnie?” Buffy interrupted. Her entire body was rigid, fists clenched tight. Whistler made soothing motions with both hands.
“You did it, Slayer,” he said, voice filled with awe and respect. “The instant you threw yourself off the tower, your sacrifice closed the portal on that side. Xander was able to get to Dawn in time to do basic first aid and stop the bleeding, and Ripper ended Glorificus once and for all. No coming back for her, no do-overs. You saved your sister, and the world, one more time.” Whistler gave her a kind smile, and two thumbs up.
Buffy's entire body trembled, then began to shake. Tears began to trickle from her bright green eyes, and she collapsed over her own knees, form wracked with sobs.
Whistler snatched up the white flag he'd been waving when he appeared and jerked it off the stick. He thrust it into Fili's hands.
The blonde dwarf wasn't a complete idiot. He hurled himself across the campsite and pushed the white cloth into Buffy's hands, sliding one arm supportively around her and rubbing soothing circles on her back.
“I don't understand,” Kili asked quietly. “What tower? What did you have to do?”
Whistler answered for the overwrought young woman. “Glory's flunkies had to build this really crap tower and drag Dawn to the top of it in order to start the ritual. One of those skeevy dirtbags stuck a knife in the baby slayer's gut to kick off the whole show,” he said.
Buffy straightened, sniffling a bit and wiping her face with the handkerchief. “Summer's blood opened the portal,” she said. “Only Summer's blood could close it. After our mom died earlier this year, Dawn was all I had left. I couldn't let that Hell-bitch take her away from me! So I… I jumped off the tower. I gave my blood to spare hers. It's not the first time I've died, but if it meant Dawnie could live? I was happy with it being the last time.”
Her declaration was met with stunned silence. Here was a tiny little slip of a Man-child who had done what all of them were prepared to do - sacrifice themselves for family.
“So you saved the day again, which is where these guys come in.” Whistler gestured around at the stunned and silent dwarrow. “Buffy, in all the history of all the Slayers that have ever lived, I don't think you've really grasped how unique you are. You've died twice, saved the entire world… what is it, four times? Five? And the multiverse at least once. You've been through some shit, if I might say. The PTB decided you've done your part, and it's time for someone else to step up. The PTB back home got in touch with the Valar of this universe, and after Manwë Súlimo heard about everything you accomplished and everything you survived, he agreed to welcome you to his realm.” Whistler looked up at the stars once more, and smirked.
“Okay, it was more like Varda insisted,” he confessed. “Something about needing more strong women around here or something?”
Buffy actually managed a chuckle at that. “So I'm here for good?” she asked.
Whistler wiggled his hand in a waffling motion. “Honestly? That's up to you,” he said. “The Valar are all about free will. I'm here to lay out your options.”
The balance demon looked unusually serious. “Option one: you stay here. The Valar basically hijacked that portal from where it would've sent you, and brought you here. If you decide to stay, you'll have a chance at a normal life. You'll meet your soulmate, the two of you will have the opportunity to pop out a couple of babies, the whole domestic wedded bliss deal. It ain't gonna be handed to ya on no silver platter, but you've got a good idea about what's coming, so that means you've got a good idea about how to get the best outcome for everybody.”
Buffy stared at him hard. “Option two?”
Whistler winced. “Option two… gets kinda bad,” he admitted. “If you want that choice, I'll transport you to where you were originally headed. You died a hero. Heroes go to Heaven. The only problem with that, is Red.”
“Willow?” Buffy looked startled. “How could Willow be a problem?”
The balance demon really didn't look like he wanted to say, but as Buffy's expression darkened, he sighed and continued.
“If you accept the rest that is offered, the Red Witch will become convinced that you're trapped in a Hell dimension. In about a year, she'll complete an incredibly dark ritual in an attempt to save you from Hell. She'll manage to drag you out of Heaven. While that's bad enough, it gets worse.”
“Worse?!” Buffy exclaimed. “How could it get worse?”
“Her tampering opens a doorway for something called the First Evil. Lots of people die, including Anya and Tara. Xander ends up permanently maimed. Sunnydale collapses into a sinkhole. Lots of baby Hellmouths start popping up all over the place,” Whistler explained. Buffy started hyperventilating. “It's bad, but it's not all bad!” he yelped.
“Spike gets his soul back! You, Red, and Faith manage to activate every Slayer in the world! Yeah, it'll be a real craptastic few years, but you'll have a support team to help!” he quickly pointed out. Buffy's breathing started to calm.
“They need me,” she said quietly. Whistler shook his head no.
“They want you,” he corrected gently. “That's different. If you stay here, the PTB will actually get off their collective butts and get Faith's head screwed on straight. After the example you've set by saving the world, she'll step up her game and try to live up to your memory. Ripper'll make sure she's not hung out to dry. He still beats himself up over how often he let you down, y’ know,” the balance demon said gently. “I'll make sure they all know exactly where you are, and that you have the chance to be really happy, so nobody freaks out and tries to do something stupid. Nothing is written in stone, but I predict a whole lot less badness for all parties involved.”
Buffy thought about his words before she asked her next question. “What if I don't like it here?” she asked. “Can you come back and take me home?”
Whistler shook his head. “One chance only,” he said. “The Valar are bending a lot of rules just to make this offer. Once you make the call and I leave for good, you won't see me ever again.”
“Oh, my heart breaks at the thought,” Buffy snarked. Whistler rolled his eyes at her. He flopped back on his elbows, and studied the sky.
“What are you looking for?” Ori asked. The balance demon shrugged.
“Nothing, really. I ain't never seen these constellations before, so I'm taking the chance while I can.” He made a vague gesture in Buffy's direction.
“Don't let Little Miss Ditzy Blonde over there fool you. She's way smarter than she acts, and as long as nobody tries to force her to do something she don't wanna do, she's usually pretty good with making the tough calls. I'm just trying to give her the time and space to think about what she wants.”
“From the sounds of it, it seems t’ me you're trying to guide her towards staying here,” Balin said, leveling a hard look at the odd man. Whistler scoffed.
“Of course I am,” he snorted. There were cries of indignation from the dwarrow. “Oh, come off it!” he snapped, levering himself up once more.
“Me and the Buffster? We ain't friends. We ain't even frenemies. But even I gotta say, she's been handed a raw deal by the universe.”
“Explain,” Thorin demanded.
“If I'm not mistaken, Buffy, there, just turned 20 not that long ago.” That announcement was met by many vocal protestations. “Would you all just chill?!” Whistler demanded. “Jeez!”
Once they were all quiet again, but glaring at him hard, he continued explaining. “Where she comes from, your first Coming of Age is 16 years. You're considered an adult at 18 years, so she hit her majority two years ago. You wanna know what's really messed up?” he asked. “She was Called to be the Slayer at 14. Pretty much every night since then, she's been fighting ooglie-booglies that make orcs look warm and cuddly. No other Slayer in history has lived as long as her. Of course I want her to stay! We ain't friends, but I got a heck of a lot of respect for her. I want t’ see something of the good happen for her.”
“Thanks, Whistler,” Buffy finally spoke, her voice quiet. “You'll tell everyone I'm okay?”
The balance demon smiled softly. “Of course. Are you ready to decide?” She nodded.
“I want to walk in the sun for a change,” she said. “I'm staying.” Whistler's smile broadened.
“Good call, Slayer,” he said. With a flash of light, he disappeared.
“Hey!” Buffy protested. “You promised me prezzies!”
With another flash, the balance demon was back, this time sitting on a large wooden chest, with a truly massive backpack at his side.
“Calm down, will ya?” he groused. “I couldn't very well bring it until I knew which way you were going, could I? Yeesh!”
Buffy stared at the chest. “Is that…” she breathed, almost overcome with excitement.
“Your weapons locker? Yeah,” Whistler finished for her. “Sorry it took so long, but your Scooby Gang took their own sweet time getting stuff together for you.” He slapped his hand on the backpack.
“But you were only gone a second!” Kili protested.
“From your perspective, sure,” Whistler corrected. “Took those guys a week to get everything packed! I have no idea what all they crammed in here.”
The odd little man pushed himself to his feet. Sweeping his hat from his head, he bowed deeply to the blonde female. “Slayer, you have the love and appreciation of a grateful universe. Have a good life, but please remember to actually live it!” He twirled the hat in his fingers, and dropped it back on his head. “Oh, one more thing before I forget, and so you don't worry down the line,” he said. “I have no idea who your soulmate is. All I can say for sure is that your life will match his. If he's human, you'll live a human length of time. Same goes if he's an elf or a dwarf. And if you decide to have a couple of babies with him? They'll be one hundred percent the same race as their father. The little rugrats will come out looking like bits of both of you, but they'll be pure, whatever they are. Trust me, life as a halfblood? Not for everybody. See ya on the other side some day, Slayer!” He gave her a grin and a wink, and as silently as he appeared, he was gone.
The Queen Slayer of Sunnydale had officially come to Middle Earth.