“An invincible determination can accomplish almost anything and in this lies the great distinction between great men and little men.” - Thomas Fuller

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

“Spike, put me down.”

Spike did as she asked, setting her down on one of the gray boulders to rest. He cast a wary eye back at the exit on the side of the mountain, his preternatural hearing alert for any undue sounds. Nothing came back to him.

Which didn’t mean that, even now, the Orcs were not trying to find some way around the gaping chasm and come after them. If he’d learned nothing else over the years, it was that Orcs were a crafty lot.

He looked around at the haggard bunch, their grief-stricken faces lined with tears on some, unable to contain their sorrow at Gandalf’s passing. Hated having to force the distraught group to push on towards Lothlórien. But, it needed to be done. In the elven stronghold, they would be safe, and could recuperate for a bit before pressing onward.

“Aragorn, get them up,” he told his brother in elvish.

The other glanced his way, taking note of the vampire’s stance and nodded. They were not safe there.

“Legolas…” Aragorn called out, knowing he’d heard Kriger. The dazed elf nodded as well and moved towards Merry and Pippin, urging them to their feet and gesturing the way down the mountain.

“Give them a moment for pity’s sake,” Boromir cried, grappling with his own tumultuous emotions.

“We can’t stay here,” Spike growled, and strode off towards Frodo who was steadily increasing his distance from the group.

“Kriger is right. By nightfall these hills will be swarming with Orcs. We must reach the woods of Lothlórien. Come! Gimli…” he started walking forward, urging the others to fall into step with him. He stopped beside Sam, who’d yet to move. “On your feet, Sam.”

The hobbit looked up at him, confused for a moment. Aragorn smiled in understanding and held out his hand, drawing him to his feet once he’d grasped hold.

Buffy had struggled to her feet as the others drew near and started to pass her by. She took a step, determined to hold her own weight, but the recent blood loss – though fairly minimal – combined with her abrupt rising, caused her to sway unsteadily on her feet. She would have fallen but for the strong arms around her that easily lifted her off the ground.

“I got you,” Aragorn murmured as he moved off down the mountainside.

“Oh…you don’t have to—”

“Don’t worry. I’ve no doubt Kriger will be along to take you off my hands. He’s just seeing to Frodo. The wee one’s not handling the wizard’s death too well.”

“I don’t think any of them are. He was…he was a nice man.”

“Yes… yes, he was,” Aragorn murmured in agreement.

“You really don’t have to carry me, you know. I can still walk,” she told him.

“I’m sure you can, but this is by far faster than having you lean against me for support.”

“You’re worried about those things following us.”

“Kriger is, and that’s good enough for me.”

Buffy nodded and settled in to let herself be carried. The man holding her loosely in his arms, more stubborn than she – if that were possible. Ten minutes later, Spike was by their side, Frodo in tow. The hobbit hurried forward to join his friends, and Spike swiped Buffy out of his brother’s arms so they could increase their pace – putting as much distance as possible between them and Moria.

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

Aragorn and Legolas took the lead as the group hurried into the forest; Spike brought up the rear. The vampire couldn’t help snorting as the dwarf’s words drifted back to him, causing Buffy to look up at him questioningly.

‘Elf-witch indeed,’ he thought. He heard the elvish scouting party before the others and didn’t bother to flinch as they quietly circled their group; he had nothing to fear from them.

“The dwarf breathes so loud, we could have shot him in the dark,” a voice at Spike’s back commented to him in elvish.

“Haldir,” Spike greeted, coughing around a chuckle.

Haldir strode through the group to the front, greeting the blond elf in their party respectfully before speaking with Aragorn.

“Haldir of Lothlórien,” Aragorn greeted with a deferential bow. “We come here for help. We need your protection.”

“Aragorn, these woods are perilous!” Gimli called out. “We should go back.”

“You have entered the realm of the Lady of the Wood,” he told the dwarf. “You cannot go back.” His eyes scanned each member of the Fellowship, his look hard and unyielding.

“Come, she is waiting.”

The group followed behind the lead elf as he strode deeper into the woods. A zigzagging trail of stairs at the base of gargantuan trees gave way to steps that wound around the trunks and up into the tree’s sturdy branches. The arched toppings of the staircase shone with iridescent light, marking their way. Their climb seemed endless as they made their way upward, circling around the tree time and again to reach the top. The beauty of the city before them was awe-inspiring, and several of the group gaped in wide-eyed amazement at their surroundings.

“Are we safe here?” Buffy whispered quietly to Spike.

He looked down at the slayer, smiling to ease her worry. “’Bout as safe here as we can be inside Rivendell, luv.” She nodded at his answer and rested her head against his chest as they continued their climb.

Their journey ended suddenly at an archway at the base of some more stairs. Haldir stepped to the side, and Spike set Buffy on her feet beside him and looked up.

The light was intense, but not unfamiliar. Like he’d told Buffy, they were safe here. He watched as two figures cast in an ethereal glow descended the steps, their hands joined familiarly. Dressed in flowing regal robes, the Lord and Lady closed the distance until they stood on the bottom step just above the Fellowship.

Spike, Aragorn, and Legolas all bowed their heads in deference before the elven lord spoke.

“Ten there are here, yet eleven there were, set out from Rivendell. Tell me, where is Gandalf? For I much desire to speak with him.” He looked to each person, yet none could speak.

“He has fallen into shadow,” the Lady whispered in answer a moment later, eyes staring straight ahead – trance-like – as if she were witnessing the deed firsthand. Aragorn nodded at her words, unable to verbalize his confirmation, the wizard’s loss still a bitter pill to swallow. She went on as if she hadn’t seen. “The quest stands on the edge of a knife. Stray but a little, and you will fail… to the ruin of all.” Her eyes locked with several of the group, as if searching deep within their soul.

Buffy tried not to flinch as a look was directed her way and the woman paused in her pronouncement.

“…Yet hope remains, while the company is true. Do not let your hearts be troubled. Go now and rest, for you are weary with sorrow…and much toil. Tonight, you will sleep well.”

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

“Do you know how the first Orcs came into being?” Beside him, his protégé’s eyes gleamed with evil intent. “They were elves once, taken by the dark powers. Tortured and mutilated…”

Willow’s eyes remained transfixed on the newly-created demon as Saruman stepped from her side to circle the creature as they stood inside one of the great chambers of Orthanc.

“…a ruined and terrible form of life. And now… perfected. My fighting Urak-Hai, whom do you serve?”

“Saruman,” the creature’s voice hissed.

The evil wizard moved away from the leader he’d handpicked to overlook the other Urak-Hai being readied for battle. His voice rung out as he announced, “Hunt them down! Do not stop until they are found. You do not know pain. You do not know fear. You will taste man-flesh!”

The roar of the demons was deafening in the pit, and he chuckled sinisterly at their aggression. Pleased with the results, he turned back to the leader.

“One of the halflings carries something of great value. Bring them to me alive and unspoiled. Kill the others.”

“Master?” Willow interrupted. “There is another. The female. A blond warrior of great power.”

Saruman slipped inside his protégé’s mind, nodding at the images he saw. She would make a worthy addition…

“Yes,” he murmured in agreement. “Bring the female to me as well.”

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

“Spike? Where are we go—”

“Almost there, pet,” he interrupted.

He stopped suddenly before the base of a tree near the outskirts of the elven village. The pair skirted the perimeter, and Buffy saw the opening.

“You—”

“It’s mine, if I happen to visit. Though, those times were few and far between, and I’d rather spend time with the others. But, Lady Galadriel insisted, and I wasn’t going to refuse her gift.”

Buffy forced herself to tamp down her rising jealousy and be led inside. At the slight pressure to her shoulders, she sank down on the pallet laid out on the ground. Her eyes took in the sparse furnishings, realizing that the place constituted little more than a tent one might use for camping.

“Wait here, luv. I’ll be right back.”

“But—” She didn’t want to be left alone.

“’M just gonna see to the others and get us some food.”

“Yeah…ok. Hurry?”

He smiled and said that he would, then was gone.

After he left, Buffy laid back on the pallet, surprised by how soft it felt. It being a welcome respite from what she’d been sleeping on since their journey began, and what she’d no doubt be forced to endure for the rest. She must have fallen asleep, for when she opened her eyes, she caught sight of Spike leaning against the wall, intent on his task of creating more arrows to load in his quiver.

He must have sensed her regard because he lifted his head and smiled.

“Ah, so you’re awake then.”

“How long was I asleep?” she asked, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

“Only about an hour.” He handed her a glass and told her to drink it. “The waters here have restorative properties. ‘S one of the things that contributes to the calming feel of the place. Go on now…drink up, Slayer.”

Buffy did as she asked, she was rather thirsty, after all. She purred her pleasure as the cooling liquid hit her tongue and eased the dryness of her parched throat. Practically feeling the buzz of her system as it did what Spike said – enhancing the healing her Slayer’s body was undergoing.

“Hungry?” he asked when she’d drunk down the entire glass.

“Starved,” she grinned. “You?”

“I ate already, but I’ll not say no to seconds. Food here’s terrific.”

Buffy wondered at his comment, then realized he probably had left earlier to feed. She’d yet to ask him how he did it, having just figured that he’d probably kept up his blood supply by feeding off the animals that seemed in abundance throughout the region.

With a full stomach, her eyes grew slumberous, and she watched as Spike made quick work of cleaning up the plates and discarding their scraps. He reentered their private area and she couldn’t help but lick her lips in anticipation. Not having been afforded any privacy, they’d yet to re-consummate their budding relationship – an oversight she planned on fixing right now.

Her hands started working on the fastenings of her tunic and she knew she had his undivided attention. Impatient for him to see her, touch her, she hurried through her task, finally shoving the tunic aside and starting on the long-sleeved undershirt.

His hands were there then, gently pushing hers aside and finishing what she’d started…not stopping until she was completely bare to his gaze. She struggled not to cover herself as she lay there, completely exposed before him, focusing on his eyes rather than at herself. What she saw there caused her eyes to water with emotion.

How could she have ever doubted that he loved her? It was staring her back in the face. Everything that he was. Everything that he felt for her was blazing within the cerulean depths of his eyes.

She reached for him, unwilling to be separated a moment longer.

***

Spike watched as Buffy started on the fastenings of her tunic, the promise in her eyes causing him to swallow hard. She’d had that off and was starting on her shirt before he could react. But, he was there in a flash, lovingly shoving her hands aside to take over the task, delighting in how her skin was exposed to his gaze one inch at a time.

When she’d been divested of every last scrap of clothing, he just stared down at her – disbelieving that she was here. That she was his. The love he felt for her hadn’t lessened in her absence, even with the elven females at both Rivendell and Lothlorien that assured him they could make him forget whoever it was that kept him at arm’s length. He’d never even entertained the thought – Buffy had been it for him.

She reached for him, beckoning him into her arms, her body, and he quickly divested himself of his clothing before settling lengthwise beside her on the pallet.

He worshipped her then, lavishing her body with kisses. Murmuring words of praise and encouragement as his hands and mouth reacquainted themselves with every dip, every curve, every marking that proved her to be the woman she was. Committing them to memory…again. Only then did he move up her body and slide home, giving in to her whispered pleas.

His hips struck up a lazy rhythm, wanting to prolong the moment. But she was so close, teetering on the edge, so he gave in to her. His hand slipped between their bodies, his thumb massaging her clit until she snapped. He felt her arch beneath him, her head thrown back against the makeshift pillow as her body convulsed beneath his – exposing the slim column of her throat.

Spike knew his face had shifted, their mingled scent became more pronounced, colors seemed to explode before his eyes. He could feel his fangs itching to sink into her more than willing flesh, taste her blood while he pounded into her grasping channel and sought his release.

But he didn’t. Much as he might want to, he’d taken enough from her today. She needed to recuperate, not be forced to endure even more bloodletting.

Her inner muscles let off strangling his cock and he continued with his unhurried thrusts, wanting to bring her off again before he gave into his body’s demands. That was the plan, anyway. But the hot cavern of her slickened pussy was rubbing against his cock just so, and he was helpless to increase his pace – to seek his own gratification.

The flickering candlelight cast their dance upon the wall. Showed the image of Spike shifting to his knees and drawing the Slayer’s body up on his lap. How she arched back over his arm, thrusting her breasts up to his waiting mouth.

He heard her cry out as he latched onto one nipple and thrilled at the noise. His tongue laved at the taut peak, one hand lightly kneading her breast, as the other remained locked about her lower body, holding her in place for his deep thrusts. In a ceaseless rhythm, he changed the position of his hands and danced attendance on the other, plumping the flesh for his waiting mouth, sucking the hardened nub inside and paying it the same attention as its twin.

She was moaning now, twitching in his grip as her climax neared again.

Spike released her nipple with a last loving lick and pulled her up flush against his body as he sat back on his heels. His lips attacked her neck, her jaw, her lips – tasting the salty tang of her skin. His hands remained around her hips, urging her on. Not that he really needed to. She’d taken to the new position rather well and was eagerly riding his cock as she strove for her release. Her fingers were buried in his hair, her mouth moving much as his was, peppering kisses on his skin.

He was close now; it wouldn’t take much to drive him over the edge. But he wanted her there with him. Always there with him. Again he slipped his hand between them, finding the bundle of nerves that were swollen and eager for his touch, rubbing at it until she stiffened above him. Her body shuddered in the wake of her climax, her inner walls grasping his length and willing him join her.

She cried his name, murmuring her love, and he was lost.

His hands tightened about her shoulders and it took no more than a handful of thrusts to see him over the edge. Stars shot before his eyes as he squeezed them tight, caught in one of the most – if not the most – intense orgasm he’d ever felt. He shouted her name as he poured his seed within her welcoming body. No doubt the Lord and Lady themselves heard his cry of completion in their own chamber high up within the trees.

He held her close as he struggled with his emotions, breathing huge gulps of air as he tried to come down from his high. His arms tightened about her and he began placing kisses upon her face as he murmured his love over and over. It was some time later, with her dozing beside him, an arm and leg draped possessively across his body on the pallet they shared, that Spike finally managed to sleep.

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

The remaining members of the Fellowship set out at first light, taking to the river in the canoes provided by the hospitable elves. Four canoes in total, the group paddled their way down the Great Anduin River.

The river seemed to go on forever in Buffy’s mind, but their mode of travel definitely beat the two-footed variety. Some time later, they finally passed into a different part of the never-ending river.

“Argonath,” Spike whispered in her ear as she sat before him in the canoe, her gaze awestricken as she stared at the two towering statues that stood like sentries before them. “They are the guardians of Gondor.” She looked over to the occupants in the other canoes and noticed both Boromir and Aragorn sit a little straighter in their seat – pride evident in their homeland.

Once past the majestic statues, they traveled a bit further. Until the sound of waterfalls reached their ears. Aragorn steered them to the western bank and the remaining three canoes followed. The group alighted onto the pebbled beach, pulling the canoes up out of the water to avoid them being swept downriver in the increasing tide.

“We cross the lake at nightfall,” Aragorn told everyone. “Hide the boats and continue on foot. We approach Mordor from the north.”

“Oh, yes?! It's just a simple matter of finding our way through Emyn Muil? An impassable labyrinth of razor sharp rocks! And after that, it gets even better!” Gimli scoffed. He glanced around at the others, warming to his tale. “Festering, stinking marshlands, far as the eye can see!”

“That is our road. I suggest you take some rest and recover your strength, Master Dwarf.”

“Recover my strength…?!” Gimli sputtered.

But, Aragorn had already turned away, seeking out Kriger.

“We should leave now,” Legolas was saying to his brother as he drew near.

“No. Orcs patrol the eastern shore,” Aragorn reminded the elf. “We must wait for cover of darkness.”

“It is not the eastern shore that worries me. A shadow and a threat has been growing in my mind. Something draws near...I can feel it!”

“Legolas is right. ‘M not likin’ our position.”

“You think we should take our chances on the other side?” Aragorn asked.

Spike sighed. A buggering rock and a hard place, and they were stuck between the two. On the one hand, the two rangers knew of the Orcs that patrolled the bank on the eastern shore. It would be a given that the Fellowship would come across them sometime during the day. The crux would be how many. Then there was this vague notion that something was out there right now. Had been slowly stalking them down the western bank not long after they’d left the protection of Lothlorien.

“No…we’ll just have to stay close. No one leaves without a partner.” He looked around, counting heads. “Where’s the wee one?”

The three scanned their makeshift camp, noting at once the missing human…in addition to the ring bearer. Instantly alert, Spike and Aragorn snagged their weapons and took off, commanding Legolas, Buffy, and Gimli to look after the remaining hobbits. The two found him atop a hill, shaken.

“It has taken Boromir,” Frodo spoke as they started to drew near.

“Where is the ring?” Aragorn asked.

“Stay away,” the hobbit cried, suddenly afraid. “Both of you.” He stumbled back, falling over a bush but keeping an eye on the two rangers as they closed in on him.

“We’ll not hurt you, wee one. We swore an oath to protect you,” Spike tried to soothe the skittish Frodo.

“Can you protect me from yourselves? Would you destroy it?”

Spike paused in his steps allowing Aragorn to gain the hobbit’s side alone. Aragorn started at the ring that the hobbit taunted him with as he held it outstretched on his palm. He stopped a foot in front of Frodo, kneeling, eyes locked on the small band of gold. He reached out….

…and closed the hobbit’s fingers around it, assuring him of its safety.

“We would have gone with you to the end. Into the very fires of Mordor,” Aragorn told Frodo.

His eyes looked upon the two as the second ranger came to kneel before him. “I know. Look after the others. Especially Sam. He will not understand.”

Spike stood suddenly and whirled around, drawing his sword.

“Run, Frodo!” Aragorn commanded, then he too, drew his sword as he surged to his feet and started after his brother. A large group of super-Orcs stood in the clearing a ways down the hill, snarling. Spike’s face shifted to that of his demon and he growled back, then charged. Aragorn was right behind him. They needed to give Frodo enough time to reach the canoe.

As if sensing their prey escaping, the group broke in half, veering off to take the path the hobbit had. Even with the group now divided, there was no way the two of them would be able to stop them before the Orcs were upon Frodo. They needed help.

An arrow went sailing past his ear, and Aragorn whispered a prayer of thanks. He glanced back to see Legolas and Gimli joining the fray.

“Aragorn! Go!” The elf had seen the group split in half to go after the fleeing hobbit.

“Kriger?” he shouted to his brother.

“Go! We’ll hold them here!” he answered, not turning around.

Aragorn wasted no more time and raced after Frodo to head off the others that were trailing him.

***

“Hide in here,” Buffy told Merry and Pippin as she drew her sword, the sound of the enemy drawing near ringing in her ears and causing her spine to tingle. They’d just managed to get into place when she noticed one of the other hobbits race by and hide behind one of the trees not far from her.

Frodo.

Her eyes met his and she could see the desperation in them, knew instinctively that he was going off on his own and needed to make good his escape.

“Run, Frodo,” she whispered, then stepped into the open and drew the Orcs’ attention her way.

“Over here, you assholes!” she hollered before she took off running in a different direction, leading the Orcs inland and away from the river…and Frodo.

Buffy ran until her legs burned and her chest heaved. Until she had nothing left to give. Then she tapped into her slayer adrenaline and ran some more, praying all the while that her ruse had been successful. She heard footsteps getting closer, and she hazarded a glance over her shoulder to see the two hobbits not far behind her.

Hot on their heels was Boromir.

He blew his horn as he ran, and Buffy had to wonder how he’d been able to draw breath to accomplish the feat. Knowing she couldn’t go on and still put up a decent fight, her legs on the brink of giving up on her altogether, she stopped running and turned to confront the demons headed their way. Motioning the hobbits to continue on ahead, she took up her battle stance as Boromir gained her side.

The horn sounded like a trumpet blow, and it was the last thing she heard before they were upon her. She didn’t hear the hiss of the arrow as it raced through the air, could only feel the harsh shove given her by Boromir before it sliced into his shoulder. It didn’t deter him; he still stood ready to defend them, and she had to wonder at his selflessness.

It was like he was asking for forgiveness for crimes committed.

She jumped to her feet and fought off several more Orcs, but the bellowed cries of the two hobbits as they raced back her way distracted her. The hilt of a sword against her temple sent her world into darkness, and she neither saw the two being carried off, nor felt herself being lifted by another as the hunting party made to return to Isengard.

***

Aragorn burst into the clearing just as the leader was set to put an arrow through Boromir’s head. He slammed into the Orc, sending him tumbling away from his target, then rolled to his feet in one smooth motion, sword poised at the ready. The Orc growled at him and attacked, hulking sweeps with his broadsword that he was hard pressed to counter. But his rage was great and he persevered, delivering blow after blow until he got in a lucky swing that severed the demon’s arm. He pulled back and impaled his sword deep in the demon’s chest. Again he withdrew, this time hacking his head clean off.

The Orc forgotten, he raced to Boromir’s side, knowing his companion’s wounds were fatal.

“They took the little one,” Boromir gasped out around a mouthful of blood. “Buffy too. Frodo…where’s Frodo?”

“I let Frodo go,” Aragorn murmured.

“Then you did what I could not. I tried to take the ring from Frodo.”

“The Ring is beyond our reach now.”

“Forgive me. I did not see it. I have failed you all.”

“No, Boromir, you fought bravely! You have kept your honor.”

Boromir was mindless in his pain, babbling about the destruction of man. His greed.

“I do not know what strength is in my blood, but I swear to you I will not let the White City fall…nor our people fail!”

“Our people? Our people?” he honed in on Aragorn’s words.

Aragorn pulled his sword and laid it across Boromir’s chest.

“I would have followed you my Brother…my Captain…my King!”

The light faded from his eyes as Boromir gasped his last breath.

“Be at peace, son of Gondor.”

Aragorn rose to his feet, tears streaming unashamedly down his face as another member of the Fellowship fell victim to their quest. Spike stepped to his side, laying a hand on his shoulder.

“In the end, he proved himself a good man. He died a noble death.”

Spike tried not to think of Buffy and the two hobbits that had been captured, maybe already even killed, as they carried Boromir to one of the canoes and laid him inside. Aragorn brought the man’s sword and shield with him and place them with their fallen comrade before giving the boat a quick shove out over open waters so that it could be swept away by the current towards the waterfall.

“Hurry! Sam and Frodo have reached the eastern shore,” Legolas urged the remaining group. Spike growled, but caught hold of himself. He knew they were to look after the ring bearer. It was their duty. It was through no fault of his own that the elf didn’t know they’d let the two hobbits go on alone.

“You mean not to go after them,” he questioned, noticing the two rangers’ expressions.

“Frodo’s fate is no longer in our hands.”

“Then it has all been in vain. The fellowship has failed,” Gimli announced.

Aragorn walked forward and placed a hand on the dwarf’s shoulder. “Not if we hold true to each other. We will not abandon Merry, Pippin, and Buffy to torment and death. Not while we have strength left. Leave all that can be spared behind. We travel light. Let us hunt some Orc!”

Spike growled and raced off, having already been prepared to scout around for the path the Orcs had taken.

“Yes!” Gimli cheered, warming to the hunt. And he, together with Legolas and Aragorn, raced after the rapidly departing vampire.

They had a slayer and two hobbits to find…and some vengeance to enact.



End of Book One