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It was as they traipsed through the darkened tunnels of Moria that Buffy first shared some of her personal history with Frodo. She thought it might help him, and a certain tall, dark, brooding future King, to know that she had been destiny-girl before. And felt for both of them considering their respective burdens. An added plus was she wouldn’t have to be all confrontational with Mr. hot-and-tortured taking up the rear guard on their march under the mountain. Maybe this would also get the ever untrusting Boromir off her back a bit. Knowing the echoes of this conversation would reach all her intended targets she pondered how to begin. She was not a singer like every blasted Dwarf, Elf, Hobbit, or Man in this silly world but she had a damn good story and she would tell it as it pleased her. But how to broach the topic, she certainly wasn’t Anya or Cordelia, she had some tact. But not much. She’d never been great with the ‘splainy, and jumped right in.
“You know Frodo I’ve spent my fair share of time being fate’s beeyotch,” she murmured into the dark.
Gandalf turned his head a few yards in front of them, she could just make out his piercing intelligence, as the dim light of his staff lit up his eyes. She looked to her left, sizing up the ring bearer.
Frodo was keeping pace with her, closer to the mountain's inner wall. She had intentionally taken the edge of the path closer to the endless chasm. Never let it be said that she bowed down to the patriarchal sidewalk rule, take that Middle Earth. Ok, maybe not all Middle Earth, she’d heard of the Shieldmaidens of Rohan so there was hope for feminism yet here. She would do her part by guarding the ring bearer and keeping herself between him and a fall to certain death.
But Frodo’s hummed response was encouragement enough, and she dove into her own lore, quoting in a solemn voice that made her long for her former watcher, “ ‘Into every generation, there is a chosen one. One girl in all the world. She alone will wield the strength and skill to stand against the vampires, the demons, and the forces of darkness. To stop the spread of their evil and the swell of their numbers. She is the Slayer.’ That, Frodo, my friend, was the original prophecy about Slayers. Capital S.” Buffy paused here, her gaze skittering down into the yawning depths just inches from where she tread. Haltingly, she continued, “You remember how they called me Dagnir at the last homely house?”
Pippin jumped in with unusual gusto given their environment, “ ‘Dagnir!’ Yes, we heard Glorfindel call you that when you two were sparring.” His excitement over the memory of that particular sight was almost palpable. Pippin recalled seeing her awe-inspiring speed and after the two warriors had left to clean up, the Hobbits had talked of her unique tactics, how she used anything at hand, even when she was disarmed, to gain any advantage. It had felt particularly useful to catch a glimpse of someone small, who used their opponents' underestimation as its own weapon. The four of them had whispered in glee late into the night in anticipation and hope of traveling with a companion such as Lady Summers. No, only ‘Buffy’ not ‘Lady’. He shook his head as he mentally corrected himself. He did not want her glare forced upon him like he had seen the twins of Elrond receive after calling her a ‘Lady’. Thinking back to the clash between her and the Elf from the first age, Pippin recalled that it didn’t seem exactly like a fair fight but Buffy’s emphasis on winning at any cost, especially if the alternative was death, had struck a chord with small folk in Rivendell.
“Hmmm, well yes, he would know,” Buffy resumed, referring to the golden haired Elf, whilst rousing the Hobbit out of his musings. “After all, he slayed a Balrog,” She shuddered at the thought.
Frodo, bless his heart, and his memory of the many things Bilbo taught him, put two and two together. “ ‘Slayer,' is that not what that term refers to?”
Buffy sighed, “Yeah, where I come from there was just one singular girl. Or at least until I made my mark.” Her laugh got swallowed by the depths, and echoed in a disturbing manner.
She went on, “‘In every generation there is a chosen one. She alone will stand against the vampires, the demons and other forces of blah blah blah.” Buffy felt the prickle of eyes on the back of her neck, she was sure it was the gaze of Strider, or Aragorn, or Estel, or whichever name he was going by with the current company, perhaps wondering at her blasé attitude from his position at the rear.
And it was for him and the little Hobbit that she pressed on, “I know what it feels like to have a destiny thrust upon you…some big thing you can’t turn away from. We would wish to avoid it if our lot in life had been but a little different. It isn’t an easy path ahead of you, and no one will ever truly know how it weighs you down. But I see you. And I’m here. To ease your cares, however you deign to share them.”
Frodo’s perceptiveness was not entirely welcome when he responded, “Just like no one will know your burdens Buffy?”
The grimace she gave him was tight and the shadows quickly swallowed it up. So quietly only Gandalf and Legolas with their acute hearing could hear her soft sigh, “Just so.”
She turned away from her marching buddy, facing forward and spoke again at a more reasonable volume, “But the thing about destiny being written is–I flunked the written. I was supposed to be alone.” She thought back to that moment with the First Evil and her epiphany before the collapse of Sunnydale. When she realized they could win.
She forged ahead. Ignoring confused glances from Merry and Sam walking in line behind her, “I never listened to the instruction manual, I changed the rules of fate so I wasn’t completely alone. I had friends, allies, mentors, lovers, and even frenemies.” She smirked at the looks she felt the Hobbits giving her.
Sam reached out to clamp a hand over Pippin’s mouth next to him, before he could interrupt her again, and gave Merry a pinch for the same reason. They were starting to get used to her unusual dialect but the idea of the young woman in front of them having romantic involvement with anyone felt like a very personal thing to share, even with such company as them. Best to let her tale unfold. The sturdy Hobbit gave the other two Hobbits he walked with a stern glare, not that they could see much in the gloom.
“Those relationships didn’t last. I mean here I am cursed with a longer life than most mortals and in a completely new territory,” Buffy hummed a tune unlike any they had heard before and spoke, “A whole new world…in fact. But those folks got me to where I am today. I wouldn’t have survived without them and along the way I rewrote my own ending. Or my ending there. The world I left? There isn’t just ‘One girl in all the world’ anymore. Powerful men forced that upon me, upon every slaver that came before me.”
The entire fellowship could hear a certain wistfulness in her tone, “But a powerful wicca, she helped us change it. Now there will never again be just one. Now and forever there will be many Slayers and they don’t share that fate alone anymore.” The pause here was heavy, and they waited for her to recommence. “I’m not saying I would take your burden from you Master Baggins, I cannot. I will not. But don’t lose hope and never lose sight of the friends that support you along the way. We are nothing without them, you’d best not forget that.”
Frodo was silent for some minutes, only the quiet patter of footsteps on the narrow path followed Buffy’s speech. He began solemnly, “It sorrows me to hear of your past, Dagnir. Pray allow me to use that title with honor, now that I understand that you have so obviously earned it. It might boost our spirits on this dark journey to hear more of your accomplishments, of your successes, over the evil you have thwarted. I am much gladdened to hear your advice. And know this, I take this fellowship as a sturdy, solid thing. Just how crucial you all may be is yet unknown but I am sure I am grateful for it. To not bear it alone as you once did. And we have already had proof enough of your skill my L–Buffy. We would not be here without your timely aid outside the doors to these dank paths.”
Buffy just laughed. “If you were impressed with my work against that octopus demon you should have heard about my health class. I indulge your request for story time then."
Gimli harrumped and turned to look back at her from his place at Gandalf’s side. He had heard some of her stories and they rivaled many that the Dwarves could boast of. He had half a mind to record her tales to bring back with him, glad tidings indeed as opposed to the death and despair they had found here in these ancient and storied halls of Moria thus far. And he had grown impatient whenever she felt so inclined to share her tales with their company.
“Fine master Dwarf,” Buffy obliged, “I will share with the class. So for our section on health in high school we had to raise eggs–”
Here Pippin interrupted, “Health class? Is that like caring for wounds in the halls of healing Ms. Buffy? And raise eggs? To eat?” Here his stomach growled for all to hear, “I thought you were bad at cooking and had no familiarity with animals besides horses.”
Buffy stopped short, almost causing Sam, Pippin, and Merry to stumble into her back. If not for Legolas’ quick tug on their tunics they might have toppled into Frodo and Buffy. Sam elbowed Pippin in the ribs behind Buffy’s back, not that it had or would deter the curious Hobbit.
Her feet shifted awkwardly before she proceeded, not due to the supposed rudeness, she knew that Aragorn, Gandalf, and Legolas had warned the other members of the fellowship about her lack of knowledge of baking bread, brewing beer, and the like. It was a kindness done in the hopes of keeping the questions, and Buffy’s frustrations, to a minimum. At least from those other members of the fellowship who had not traveled with her before. Truly it didn’t bother her, she was glad to be on watch duty at night, as her instincts and history meant she was used to prowling during the darkest hours before daybreak. It was a bonus to not be beholden to cooking their meals, or eating whatever she tried her hand at preparing…she knew where her talents lay. She just had not thought this particular story through, how was she supposed to go about teaching sexual health to a bunch of formally, to her at least, fictional beings who had the education of a renaissance man (and not in the good way). But if she started thinking too much about her current predicament and the timeline she would end up dizzy and the cavern they were skirting seemed to be only getting wider. The depth of which she could not begin to fathom. It would do no good but to just continue, awkwardness be damned. These folks could live to learn a thing or two about safe sex and raising kids and all that. Goodness knew they might yet live to use it. She hoped none of her fellow fellowshippers, her lips quirked up at her own pun, would end up like the dead beat dad she had growing up.
Getting back to the story and feeling grateful for the dark so no one in particular could see her face reddening up like a ripe tomato, she replied, “Well no, in my school all of us had to pretend to be parents for a week, the duties of keeping this egg safe were intended to make us think a bit harder about the…umm…potential outcomes of, uhh, intimate carnal relations…if you boys get my drift.” Oh this was almost worse than giving Dawn the full birds and bees talk after she found her sister parking with a vamp that one halloween.
Gilmi snorted. She could hear Gandalf muttering into his beard ahead, Legolas had come to a full stop, and Aragorn? Well with him playing caboose to their company, she couldn’t be obvious and turn to look. She strained her ears and heard naught but silence. It was almost too quiet back there. She waited with a baited breath. “Umm yeah, well you know, your world, I mean, this world, is a bit ermm…how do I put it. Antiquated. In terms of morality. Compared to where I came from at least.” It came out all in a jumbled rush. Gosh she could just picture Giles cleaning his glasses right about now. In a hurry she continued her verbal flailing, “Not that they didn’t shove some aspects of that bullshit down our throats. I mean c’mon! ItsnotlikeIneverlearnedMYlessonthankyouverymuch. Fucking Angel. And Parker! Fucking MEN.” The last two words were hurled out into the void.
Gandalf shushed her. Buffy blushed even harder. She murmured a soft apology to him and the rest of their group. What was she thinking, losing control like that, and not paying attention to her surroundings! Her spidey senses were a-tingle. They had been since before she had scrambled in under the rockfall caused by the demon she had brought down and escaped at the entrance to these mines. This whole mountain passage was giving her the Wiggins with a capital ‘W’.
But really, in terms of guys and cuddles and that train of thought, she was beyond over all her past forays into relationships. And sex! No sex. Not here. Especially not with stinky men. Definitely not Rangers. And most certainly not with almost 6 and a half foot tall, long haired, destiny bound guys who she did happen to know smelled great (on the rare occasions they were able to get clean and she had been in sniffing distance, not that she was being obvious about it…she hoped). No sex. No men. Sad Buffy. No. NOT sad Buffy. She was cheering up the Hobbits. And giving a roundabout sex talk. And encouraging them to be good future partners! Yeah, take that *establishment*. Take that 90’s sensibilities. See? She could learn some things. Now, where was her cookie? Oh right Middle Earth had yet to discover the rewards of ooey gooey chocolatey goodness. But maybe that discovery came with colonization, well she hoped they didn’t get there, she had gone without for decades already. But she was getting side tracked. Focus Buffy!
“Anyways,” she began, “moral of the story, we were *supposed* to take care of the assigned egg, this small fragile thing, right? To learn how to be an attentive, supportive partner and parent. Both the men AND women, since, ya know, the woman could be the breadwinner and all that.”
She cut off the Hobbit’s question before he could begin, “Yes Sam. I mean figuratively. Bread winners, meaning the one who is making money to bring home to pay for clothes, and cable, and designer shoes, and baby food, and college education, and mortgages. Not just baking bread. And women were doing all of that. They can do all of that. Even in Middle Earth.”
She stopped, “Well maybe not the cable and the designer shoes. And for that matter I am not too clear about home ownership here.” A snort from Aragorn at the back gave her pause. She wasn’t surprised, but she was pleased to get his dour mood to crack every now and then.
He had heard her moan about the lack of something called ‘TV’ and ‘shows’ to watch. But for all his curiosity he had only gotten a splitting headache after hearing her ramble on about the Creek of Dawson or something during their previous time on the road together. And it was only after many days that he had realized it was not a true creek or brook, and neither did she know said Dawson! He had been shocked to learn that his travel companion, this seasoned warrior, had been rambling on about an acted out and recorded way to watch someone’s personal life drama. He still was unclear about how such things were done in her world. And it was wholly fictional! He failed to understand her enjoyment of said ‘entertainment’ as she had continued to refer to it. But her love of shoes and other fond reminiscing was not new to him. So his amusement at her wandering words was from his own familiarity with her peculiarities.
His chuckles warmed Buffy’s insides. Even though she was determined to not think about Aragorn. And definitely not in any relation to her insides. They were non mixy things damnit!
Buffy plowed on to distract herself from thinking of his rumbling laugh, “But yeah, we were tasked with pretending the eggs were our children. But classic Hellmouth-y things happened and before we knew it, the eggs were actually the hellish spawn of….what did Giles call it? Offspring of a demon of sorts. A buzzer? A bizz-ore? OH, a bezoar! So these wicked eggs actually attacked everyone except me, cuz I killed mine. And Xander, who had hard boiled his.”
Gimli interrupted, “So he thwarted his duties? And being attacked by the bezoar? Or he killed his own offspring?”
“Yes, it seems he was dishonorable, but it was not to his detriment.” Based on his response the Gondorian appeared to be paying close attention to her inadvertent lesson.
Of course he would latch on to the honor of it all. Well Buffy couldn’t totally fault him for having a chip on his shoulder. It sounded like living in the shadow of Mordor really was as close to Cleveland and its Hellmouth as they could get in Middle Earth.
But still she had to defend Xander, “Well technically it saved him in this case. He didn’t get whacked with the mindless cult follower status like everyone else, and he totally helped me deal with the texan vamps who rolled into town then too. Really it was a huge help when I had to dive into the slimy mess that was the bezoar thing and got spewed with its ink while every one of the Scoobies was helping distribute its evil eggs.” Buffy trailed off in her reminiscing on simpler times.
“But once it was sliced and diced they all got over it pretty quick. I don’t remember if I even got a passing grade in health class either. Single parenthood is no joke let me tell you!” Her righteous indignation spurned her on, “Either way it all worked out in the end for us. I got hatchet practice with tentacles. Evil eggs were destroyed, and I wasn’t even grounded. Soooo satisfying, you should try it sometime! Although, it did ruin my outfit. Couldn’t get those ink stains out, sadly. And mucus and leather? Would NOT recommend.”
She was surprised to hear Boromir chuckle, “It sounds like education in your realm was a mighty dangerous thing.”
“Well only because we were on a Hellmouth! Otherwise it was peachy…Hey you should try that in minus torth. The educating, I mean.” She knew she was pushing his buttons with her mispronouncing his home, but really it was a grand old scheme.
And his responding growl was well worth it to hear Frodo giggle next to her. On instinct she reached out for the Hobbit’s hand and was reassured when he squeezed hers back. The warmth of his hand in hers gave her another little push of courage.
She got back to her earlier point, “Ya know, life was scary on the Hellmouth, and yeah, people did stupid things, sometimes they were in the mood, or if they were whammied by evil doers. But like I said, I had people I loved and I am grateful for the opportunities and education I was able to receive. Seriously Boromir, you should work on making basic schooling available to all in Gondor, especially the women.” She sighed, “I don’t regret any of it and I learned loads. Hello, how do you think I did so well with that icky octopus I dispatched before we ended up in here? So sure some of the fights were tough, and we lost folks along the way, but we fought together. Xander was my backup for that particular eggstravangza. All’s well that ends well, huh? Plus, all that is history, but it brought me here and even if I am un-knowledgeable of most of the ways of Middle Earth, I am with you. Just point me in the direction of badness and I slay it, no problemo. And you guys? I think you’re alright. Yeah yeah, even you, Gondor dude.” She could see his sturdy frame turn around to face her although his back was to the light as the man paused at her sentiment.
He started at the wink she gave him. When she was being impish he didn’t know what to think of their dimension traveling companion. But she was talented, dangerous, and full of contradictions
Frodo grinned at Buffy’s antics, his teeth gleaming in the near darkness as he responded, “As I have learned to say from you, ‘I wouldn’t have it any other way.’”
“You’re lucky you don’t have Hellmouths here is all I’m saying!” And with that Buffy twirled around, walking backwards precariously as she looked into the gloom for a glimpse of the hope of mankind, lumbering at the end of their little column. Providing his own brand of calm. Badumm badumm. She literally heard her heart thrum at the feelings of safety and surety she felt seeing his dark form in the darkness.
Buffy gracefully turned around as Legolas chimed in, “Ai, of that we must be most grateful. I fear what the enemy would do with a mouth of hell in their arsenal." And with that remark the company was left in quiet contemplation as their trek proceeded deeper through the treacherous mountain.