Everything Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Lord of the Rings belongs to their respective creators, not me.
Arwen could be quite the chatterbox when she put her mind to it, and certainly she could be even more the chatterbox when she was not putting her mind to it, but, which Buffy considered a blessing of some sort, she was not in the habit of talking anyone's ears off while aiding with their hair. Buffy had vague memories of her hairdresser in L.A., and they were not pretty. Certain fantasies of proving the hairdresser's vampness and brandishing a stake, or axe, in front of them came to mind.
"How fares the Prince of Mirkwood?" Alas, Arwen's inquisitive nature was not, as Buffy had hoped, the least bit quelled by Buffy's retelling of her adventures in Mirkwood, and after a few moments of silence on Buffy's part, Arwen's gentle fingers tugged not-so-lightly on the honey-coloured hair she was braiding, elven fashion.
"Good. He fares good, er, well," Buffy had been lulled into a sense of security when Arwen had begun brushing her long, glossy hair, and it had only been when her fingers had begun twirling and twining the blond strands that the nosy questions had started pouring out of her mouth. Buffy realised that Arwen had simply been biding her time.
As Arwen added the last detail to Buffy's hair, a delicate circlet of mithril, seemingly a sliver of some silver-coloured nature, Buffy glanced up into the mirror and noticed the expression dwelling on the elleth's lovely, usually serene face. It was slightly troubled.
"I do not see how you can have two choices, and yet pick the one that features orc raids and giant spiders, mellon nîn. Are you so drawn to the danger? Or is it the dark, dangerous green trees, unlike those that grow in Lorien, or Imladris?"
And one question went unspoken. Buffy was grateful that Arwen's troubled face did not seem to have anything to do with her matchmaking wiles. The last time Buffy had been in Imladris, Arwen had pestered her to no end about the stories Elladan, Elrohir and, surprisingly, Legolas had told her. It had been Legolas' fond retellings of Buffy's exploits that had keyed Arwen in on what was crackling between the young Elf Prince and the blonde Slayer.
"It's not the danger, Arwen, it's just.. something is calling me there, and it won't rest up until I've entered King Thranduil's territory. Besides, it's not all orcs and spiders, there are some really beautiful moments to be had in Mirkwood," as soon as the words had left her mouth, Buffy knew she had set herself up.
"Are these 'beautiful moments' to be had with Thranduilion?"
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