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When Worlds Collide: The Fellowship by enigma_k
 
Chapter 10: Walk With Me, My Brothers In Arms
 
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“The bravest are surely those who have the clearest vision of what is before them, glory and danger alike, and yet notwithstanding, go out to meet it.” – Thucydides

********************

As they crested the last rise out of Rivendell, Spike cast one final look over the place he called home. The peace of the city seemed to wrap itself around him and he could practically hear Arwen’s voice in his head wishing him a safe and prosperous journey.

He vowed right then that he would see it happen. That their quest would be successful.

That Sauron would plague Middle Earth no more.

He turned away, resolve in his step as he hurriedly caught up with Aragorn.

“Has Gandalf decided on a path?” Spike’s voice was low as he conversed with his brother in elvish.

“We’ll follow the path along the western side of the Misty Mountains. He means to cross through the Gap of Rohan,” was his reply.

Spike grunted in response. It was the longer route, true…albeit safer. He’d not doubt the wizard’s plan. Besides, the mountain range would afford them some cover from the all-seeing eye of Sauron and allow the group to train along their journey.

********************


Several weeks later
An outlying arm of the Misty Mountains, just shy of the Caradhras (Mountains)


Buffy marveled at the camaraderie of the group from her position on one of the jutting rocks. The last several weeks had been grueling, Gandalf pushing them ever onward towards their destination. She didn’t think she’d walked so much in her life – in fact, she knew she hadn’t. Still she’d managed to keep up with the others…barely.

Only her Slayer stamina keeping her going at times.

That, and the look the pipsqueak Gimli had cast her way the first week. Like their quest to see the ring destroyed was no place for a mere woman. Honestly, had they regressed to the seventeenth century or something?

Surprisingly, it had been Legolas that had taken the Slayer under his wing, the ancient elf delighting in showing her the finer points of mastering the classic bow and arrow that was his people’s weapon of choice. It had been a while before she’d worked out the mechanics of the bow, but once she’d gotten that down, her aim had been true. Repeatedly striking whatever target the blond elf had pointed at.

That’s when the dwarf had quit his ridiculing, affording her his grudging acceptance.

She had to admit, the group had put aside their differences far quicker than any of her friends would have done.

Now, as she looked around, she could almost think that she was on some type of extended camping trip, instead of slowly making her way towards the greatest evil she’d ever encountered. Merry and Pippin, two of the hobbits, were in mock battle with Boromir while Aragorn looked on. Gimli was talking with Gandalf. Sam was roasting something for lunch over the open fire, Frodo, the ring-bearer, at his side. Legolas was walking the perimeter of the camp.

“How’r you holdin’ up, pet?” Spike asked as he sat down beside her.

“I’m fine, Spike,” she grumbled. “It’s gonna take a lot more than continuous walking to slow me down.”

“No need to get shirty, Slayer. ‘M just askin’ is all.”

“I’m not…” Buffy glanced over to see Spike’s hurt expression. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just…I finally got everyone to stop questioning my presence here. And there you go being all protective!guy.”

“Well pardon me for caring,” he grumbled and made to stand.

A slim hand about his wrist stayed his departure.

“Don’t go,” she begged. “I hardly get to see you as it is.”

Spike was usually the first one up, scouting ahead of the group to ensure their safe passage, leaving Buffy to catch only brief glimpses of him throughout the day as he checked in with either Aragorn or Gandalf. She understood why he had to do it, his enhanced senses making him the most likely person to see to their safety. But, after the night they’d shared – their last night in Rivendell – his constant absence hurt.

“I know, luv. But, I’m—”

“The best one to scout ahead,” she finished. “Yes, I know. It’s just…I miss you.”

“C’mere, kitten,” Spike urged, pulling the Slayer onto his lap.

“The others…” Buffy protested halfheartedly.

“Sod the others! Besides, they’re playing. ‘M allowed to cuddle with my girl for a bit.”

“Your girl?” she asked shyly.

“You are my girl, right?” Spike asked, suddenly uncertain.

“Your girl…” Buffy murmured. “I kinda like the sound of that.” She laid her head against his shoulder, so missed the awed expression on his face before Spike caught Aragon looking at him and quickly masked it behind a fierce scowl. Time seemed to stand still as she sat there, his arms wrapped loosely around her.

That is, until the movements of Legolas as he leapt up onto a boulder drew her attention.

Buffy sat up, staring in the direction the elf was. Her brows drew together as she noticed a black swarm that seemed to head in their direction. A moment later, she found herself standing on her feet as Spike stood up abruptly.

“What is that?” Sam asked no one in particular.

“Nothing, it’s just a whiff of clouds,” the dwarf commented from across the way.

“That’s no cloud,” Spike commented.

“Crebain from Dunland!” Legolas shouted as he jumped down from his perch.

“Hide!” Aragorn shouted.

The group raced around, extinguishing all signs of their presence, grabbing their gear and making for cover under the various rock overhangs and bushes.

All too soon, the flock of birds was upon them. Black as midnight, they cast a pall over the area. Their caws grating on everyone’s ears as they flew in circles above them for several minutes before retreating the way they’d come.

Once they were gone, the group was slow to emerge from their hiding places.

“Spies of Saruman!” Gandalf announced. “The passage south is being watched. We must take the Pass of Caradhras.”

Spike looked east towards the steep mountain range that was covered with snow. He eyed the ragtag group dubiously, but held his tongue. Personally, he was of a mind to take the dwarf up on the route through Moria; it would be far less precarious than the treacherous climb they had ahead of them. But, he guessed the wizard knew something that he did not….

Buffy glanced over to where Spike was staring.

“He doesn’t mean to—”

“That he does, pet. Best gather your things. I’m going to scout ahead.”

“Spike!” she called out as he moved off. He paused in his step, glancing at her over his shoulder. “Be careful.”

“Always, Slayer.” He smirked at her, the look so reminiscent to when he used to play at being bad, that she couldn’t help but laugh. A moment later, he was trotting off, leaving Buffy to gather her things and follow with the others.

********************


To Buffy, it seemed liked they’d traveled for days to reach the edge of the snow-capped peaks. There’d been a tense moment when she thought that Boromir and Aragorn were going to come to blows, and she’d really wished that Spike were around. The ring seemed to cause a lot of conflict between the two men.

Personally, she didn’t get it.

She could sense the evil that radiated from the small gold band and took pains to stay as far away from it as she could – she wasn’t quite sure how the little hobbit managed not to succumb to its power. Or any of them, for that matter.

When they made camp that night, she saw Spike speaking privately to Aragorn before making his way to her side.

“Cold?” he asked upon noticing her vigorously rubbing her hands up and down along her arms.

“Just a little bit. I wasn’t expecting a trek through the snow when I packed. But, Legolas had an extra heavy cloak. See?”

Spike just barely managed to tamp down his jealousy upon seeing her garbed in the elf’s coat…….just barely. She was his to look after, to care for, and he was half tempted to give her his own cloak, just so she’d be forced to give back Legolas’. He compromised by undoing the fastener about his neck and replacing it with the one she was using. The silver brooch had been another gift from Elrond, and he counted it among his prized possessions.

He took the one that she’d been using to refasten his own.

“Did…did Aragorn tell you what happened earlier?” she asked, drawing him to where she’d set up their pallets.

“Yes. And, I’ll not be traveling so far ahead any more. Besides, it’s not necessary now since the trail doesn’t leave much room for maneuvering. Actually… it’s going to be a right bitch to cross. Especially given the storm headed our way.”

“Then why don’t we go another way? I don’t think Frodo and the others are going to be up to it.”

Spike shook his head in the negative. “Gandalf knows what he’s doing…At least I hope he does.”

“If you say so,” Buffy replied. “But, just for the record…I’m not looking forward to tomorrow.”

It was a restless slayer and vampire that curled into one another that night and attempted to sleep.

********************


Spike’s prediction on the weather proved correct, the small group waking to falling snow that continued to increase in force, until they were all but walking a fine line up the steep mountain path in the midst of a blizzard.

Legolas led the group, the wizard right behind him. Next were the hobbits, Gimli and Buffy. Boromir, Aragorn, and Spike brought up the rear.

The elf stopped suddenly as the faint strains of chants drifted along the howling wind.

“Wake up cruel Redhorn! May your horn be bloodstained!”

“There’s a fell voice on the air,” he shouted to be heard.

“It’s Saruman!” Gandalf yelled back.

Suddenly, several boulders broke away from above their heads to crash down upon them.

“Hug the walls!” Spike shouted to everyone.

En masse, the members of the fellowship dove towards the mountain walls seeking cover.

“He’s trying to bring down the mountain,” Aragorn shouted to the wizard. “Gandalf, we must turn back!”

“No!”

Gandalf stepped out on the ledge, determined to outwit the traitorous wizard with his own counter spell.

“Sleep, Caradhras, be still, lie still, hold your wrath!”

**********


Saruman stood atop the pinnacle of Orthanc, the impregnable tower inside Isengard. Beside him stood his new apprentice, the young redheaded witch named Willow. He smiled down at the girl, chuckling sinisterly at the black orbs that dominated her face, the dark veins that snaked up her neck and seemed to pulse with magick.

The evil wizard telepathed what he wanted the girl to chant, nodding in approval as she obeyed without question.

“Wake up cruel Redhorn! May your bloodstained horn fall upon enemy heads!” Willow beseeched over and over, helpless but to obey her master.

‘So malleable, the young ones were,’ he thought as he turned away and shouted towards the mountain range north of Isengard, knowing his rival would somehow hear. “Moria… You fear to go into those mines. The Dwarves delved too greedily and too deep. You know what they awoke in the darkness of Khazad-dûm. Shadow and Flame.”

He laughed evilly as he sensed the group’s retreat. Only death awaited them in the mines of Moria.

**********


Legolas just barely managed to pull Gandalf to safety before they were buried alive beneath a sheet of ice and snow as a bolt of lightning stuck a spot on the mountain above them. The elf was the first to break through to the surface, shoving the snow away as he tried to reach the others.

“Aragorn…Kriger…” he called down the path.

“We’re ok!” Spike shouted back in elvish.

“We must get off the mountain! Make for the Gap of Rohan and take the west road to my city!” Boromir yelled at the wizard to be heard over the howling wind.

“The Gap of Rohan takes us too close to Isengard!” Aragorn told the man.

“If we cannot pass over the mountain, let us go under it. Let us go through the mines of Moria,” Gimli reasoned.

Gandalf eyed the group, trying to hide his fear of what lay in wait for them beneath the mountains. In the end, he let Frodo decide.

“We’ll go through the mines,” the hobbit announced.

********************


Several days were spent retracing their steps down the mountainside before heading south towards Moria and the underground city of the dwarves.

It was a travel-weary bunch that finally reached the underground caverns one night, skirting a lake to reach its secret entrance. Gandalf stopped suddenly and turned towards the cliff walls.

“Now…let’s see,” he murmured to himself. “Ithildin…” His hands reached out to clear some stray clumps of dirt from the surface and encountered a crescent-shaped symbol upon the wall. “It mirrors only starlight…and moonlight.”

As if on command, the moon burst free from the cloud cover and shone down on the door. The arched doorway became noticeable as the ornate decorations lining the rim began to glow with an incandescent light.

“It reads "The Doors of Durin - Lord of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter,” the wizard told them, as he pointed out the ancient words with his staff.

“What’s it mean?” one of the hobbits, Merry, asked.

“Oh, it’s quite simple,” the wizard told him. “If you are a friend, you speak the password, and the doors will open.” Gandalf turned towards the doors, commanding in a booming voice, “Gate of the Elves, open now for me!”

Nothing happened, so he tried again with a different passage.

“Doorway of the Dwarf-folk, listen to the word of my tongue.”

Again the door remained closed.

“Nothing’s happening,” Pippin commented.

Gandalf frowned down at the hobbit before stepping closer to the doors. He pushed against them muttering, “I once knew every spell in all the tongues of Elves...Men...and Orcs.”

“What are you going to do, then?” the hobbit asked.

“Knock your head against these doors, Peregrin Took!” Gandalf growled. “And if that does not shatter them, and I am allowed a little peace from foolish questions, I will try to find the opening words.”

“It’s a riddle,” Frodo said suddenly. “Speak ‘friend’ and enter. What’s the elvish word for friend?”

“Mellon,” Spike replied.

The doors magically swung open.

Gandalf looked at the Ranger and frowned. Spike just shrugged his shoulders and gestured for them to get moving. His demon was telling him not to linger by the lake, and he wasn’t one to ignore its warning.

“Soon, Master Elf, you will enjoy the fabled hospitality of the Dwarves!” Gimli boasted as he led the way. “Roaring fires, malt beer, ripe meat off the bone. This, my friend, is the home of my cousin, Balin. And they call it a mine. A mine!”

Gandalf breathed over the stone resting inside his staff, and the cavern was suddenly thrust into light.

“This is no mine,” Boromir told him. “It’s a tomb!”

Scattered about the open room, dead and decaying bodies of numerous dwarfs littered the ground. Legolas leaned down and ripped an arrow that protruded from one of the corpse’s chest, examining it intently.

“Goblins!”

“We make for the Gap of Rohan. We should never have come here,” Boromir told them as they backed their way out of the cavern.

Sam’s shout drew everyone’s attention as Frodo suddenly screamed.

Spike was the first to react, growling fiercely as he tore out of the caves to where an octopus-like sea creature was dangling the hobbit in the air by one of its tentacles. His features shifted as he launched himself at the arm that held the hobbit, his sword out and ready to hack it to bits.

“Spike!”

“Kriger!”

Buffy and Aragorn shouted at the same time as they raced after him.

“Get the hobbits back in the cave,” Legolas shouted to Boromir as he, too, raced outside.

One arm soon became six, and then twelve as the creature rose up out of the murky depths of the lake. Its tentacles weaved this way and that as it tried to fend off the people attacking it.

Buffy ground to a halt just outside the door as she caught sight of Spike perched precariously on one spindly arm trying to rescue Frodo. She watched as he swiveled around the creature’s tentacle to avoid another and was galvanized into action. Pulling her sword from its sheath, she went to work on the other appendages, hacking with a ruthlessness that surprised both Aragorn and Legolas.

“Spike?” she shouted, never pausing in her dance.

“Yeah, pet?”

“Today would be nice.” Her tone was almost conversational as her sword swung in a high arc, severing another limb.

“Whatever you say, luv.”

“Aragorn, get ready,” he told his brother in elvish, adding to the elf, “Legolas, on three, I want three successive shots to its head…. One…two…THREE!”

Spike swung his sword, severing the limb just above where it held Frodo. The hobbit went tumbling towards the ground, screaming; Spike was right behind him, though his descent was more controlled. Legolas had three arrows loaded and fired them towards the beast’s head as the signal was given. Its tentacles seemed to freeze momentarily in pain, giving the group a head start as they raced back towards the cave’s entrance.

In a rage at being denied dinner, the beast charged the doors after them, but its size kept it from actually entering. Instead, the walls of the entrance crumbled as the creature crashed into the doors, sealing the group inside.

“We now have but one choice,” Gandalf told them as he relit the stone resting in his staff. “We must face the long dark of Moria. Be on your guard. There are older and fouler things than Orcs, in the deep places of the world. Quietly now. It’s a four-day journey to the other side. Let us hope that our presence may go unnoticed.”

 
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