The Fifth Times the Charm.
Joss and Tolkien own these characters.
Just a short story. I’ve got some very long LOTRs/Buffy stories in the works, but you all write such good short stories I thought I’d try. Hopefully you are so appalled that you write something better.
When first he saw her, he thought her merely a child. The daughter of Rohan, or perhaps a sister of the steward. Beautiful she was and graceful in every movement. She had long golden hair like his, and bright green eyes. She wore a striking blue silk gown, the color of a dark blue hydrangea. It must have been a gift from Arwen. It was done in the elven style and her hair was clearly arranged in the same fashion as the other elf women. She spoke only a few words, and almost exclusively to Arwen, but when she turned her green eyes to him, he was as naked as a tree in winter. He felt as if she could see into him, sense his essence and for the first time in his long years, Legolas felt exposed and uncomfortable in the presence of a human and a woman. He was glad to leave Imladris when the fellowship departed for the black lands.
The second time he saw her was in Moria. She appeared in the room after the yrch opened the doors and in a move impossible for one so small she leapt onto the troll and decapitated him with what looked like a red scythe. He watched her fight, as graceful as an elf, and as blunt and strong as a dwarf. It was not a dance, or if it was, it was a dance of death, with her sickle in hand, she delivered death with every swipe. It was brutal and precise. She cut them down, killing blows only and when the balrog came from the deep, she pushed the wizard out of the way and tackled the beast into the darkness below.
When they reached the outside Aragorn and Gandalf were the only men in tears. The others were in a state of shock, but not the grief of a friend or relative. “Who was she?” Legolas asked. Though he did not know her, she was still a fallen warrior, and the one that saved them and his voice was gruff and pained. The old man looked up grim and resigned. “The greatest warrior I have ever known and one of our few remaining hopes to win this war.” Aragorn looked as if he might return to the mine, but Gandalf held him back. “She is lost. Do not sully her sacrifice with your death.” A pain pricked in the elf’s heart as Frodo began to walk away from the fellowship.
The third time he saw her, he thought perhaps he was dreaming. The battle for Helm’s Deep was not going well, and after the wall was blown there was little hope for the remaining soldiers. They rode out into the early morning light, and just as they were becoming overwhelmed, he heard a horn from the hillside. He looked to the east, and could see her next to Eomer and the Rohirrim. They swept down the canyon wall and as the sun rose and blinded the yrch their horses jumped over the wall, and into the battle. She saved them again. He would not let another day go by without thanking her.
The fourth time he saw her was on the Pelennor outside of Minas Tirith. She was killing trolls as if they were yrch, and yrch as if they were annoying fleas. She swept through the field aiding and killing where she could. A force of violence and death she might have won the battle single handedly if given the time to kill each and every orch. He fought his way toward her, but she was always on the move. He watched her kill three of the Nazgul, before she succumbed to their dark magic. He swept her up, and rushed her into the city. Her hair was covered in black slime and her body covered in cuts and bruises. His throat caught as the healers shook their heads. He screamed and yelled at the healers until they tended to her. He would not leave until she was being taken care of. The battle was nearing its end, and they would no longer need him. She recovered quicker than Eowyn or Merry and road to the black gate with the rest of the men. They looked to her as much as Aragorn to lead them, and she led the charge with the hobbits into the mass of yrch and enemy. He lost sight of her then, and thought her lost. She was not with the men when they returned to Gondor. He could not understand why the others gave up on her. She came back from the depths of Moria, she would surely be amid the wounded, but he did not find her.
The fifth time he saw her, she stood with the Hobbits during the coronation, dressed as a queen and a warrior. Her scythe strapped onto her back, over a silver gown. When the whole of Gondor bowed to them he could see the shock on Frodo’s face, and the gratitude on Sam’s. Merry and Pippin were smiling and bowing but she stood very still, and he could see the tears streaming down her face. She was being honored a hero. He caught her eyes then as the procession moved into the great hall for the feast. He would speak with her. She would not escape him this time. He watched her ruffle Sam’s hair, and kiss Merry on the cheek. Frodo and Pippin bowed to her before they ran to the feast. She slowly walked past the white tree and to the wall overlooking the city. It would take many years to rebuild, but it was still a beautiful site, though it did not look as if she saw it. He walked over to her and this time, when she looked into him, he opened up to her gaze. A place he would remain until the ends of time.