I do not own Buffy or Lord of the rings.
Xander gripped his sword tightly as he thought back on the trials that had brought him to this point.
Leaving Anya at the alter, finding her with Spike, Dusting the undead ass, getting kicked out of the Scooby’s for good and putting a good start to out drinking his father’s lifetime record all filtered through into his thoughts before the big moment of change.
Charging into a demon nest to save a girl and being thrown through a portal. And landing right smack dab in the middle of the golden halls of Edoras.
Licking his lips to wet them he idly wished he could grab a drink from his flask before forcing the thought from his head. //there will be time for that soon enough.// he decided as he watched the two thousand horsemen line up in position.
Thinking back he realized how lucky he had been not to be cut down where he stood. Instead he was stripped to his boxers, shackled and led back before the king. //and damn Théoden can be scary when he wants to be.// he thought as he went back over the several hours of interrogation he had gone through with Théoden, Gandalf and Aragorn all trying to make him talk. Finally they gave him some clothes and had sent him to a small room guarded by two of the armed and armored men he had later learned where riders of the mark.
After a while there had been a series of whispers and hisses from the other side of his cell door before it slowly opened and then ‘She’ had entered the room. He had immediately taken a step back and fallen over the cot he had been given to sleep on.
He had tried to hold out and not answer any of her questions, his willpower had lasted a grand total of three point two five seconds before he had collapsed like a house of cards in a hurricane. He had told her everything, so exhausted by it all he had fallen asleep somewhere between explaining how they had beaten Glory and resurrected Buffy.
The next day Xander had been brought before the king and asked to tell his story again.
He had managed to resist their questions for another fifteen or twenty minutes until they brought out the big guns.
She had walked out, sat next to her uncle and asks him to tell them what he had said the night before. All his willpower had disappeared in a flash and he found he was unable to deny her anything.
He shifted again on the horse as he tried to find a more comfortable position before shifting his thoughts again.
It had taken almost an hour of talking before the king had looked over at Gandalf and at his nod signaled the guards and they had taken his shackles off and given him a slightly more fitting set of clothes.
They had left that day for Helmsdeep and after several hours of riding he had felt like a tribe of Mag-lok demons had used him as a punching bag before deciding they would tap-dance on his spine.
He had almost resigned himself to the death of this, but then the tall guy had ridden up and pointed out a few things to help him.
The result was amazing, while he had still been sore the pain had lessened almost immediately, during the three day trip he had gotten quite good at riding and had even become fast friends with the Fellowship as he talked about his world and they had given him the general background on theirs.
The trouble started when he had tried to explain baseball to them. Shaking the stray thought off he resigned himself to simply show them once this war was over. That was another thing. He was in the middle of a WAR!
The fellowship had explained it as best they could but it just wouldn’t sink in.
Even when the caravan had been attacked he had simply put his shoulder to the grindstone and killed a couple of monsters that had made a vampire in full game face look normal.
But it was what had happened next that had broken through his reservations. They had been at Helmsdeep for about a day when Aragorn had arrived with information that had sent everyone into a frenzy. Ten thousand Uruk-Hai had marched into the Valley.
No no, that didn’t quite do it justice. TEN THOUSAND! Uruk-Hai.
On the hellmouth the most they had ever dealt with was a few DOZEN bad guys, now he stood looking over the battlements at rank after rank of monsters that had been created to do one thing. Kill the few hundred people trapped behind the stone walls. And he had to stop them.
The night had been a blur after that, Cold rain and hot blood had mixed with the dirt to make an almost demonic mud that had crept into every crevice and crack in both his armor and himself.
He remembered the deep cut that had just barely managed to catch him, spinning him away from his attacker and leaving a shallow cut across his chest and several dozen glittering rings from his chainmail to go spinning into the mud. The next thing he knew there had been a deafening roar that brought back memories of graduation day before everything had gone black.
The sharp pain brought him awake quickly and he found he couldn’t look away as she carefully tended whatever had made the pain in his head. He had idly wondered where the pain had gone before the thought wandered off and focused on her again.
He remembered how he had fallen for Buffy and the burning desire he had for Cordelia, along with the sudden shift in feeling he had for Willow, the animal attraction he had for Faith, or even the slow near fungus like growth of feeling he had for Anya. Nothing had come close to his feeling at that moment.
It seemed so long ago now, he realized as he half listened to Théoden as he rode down the line and urged his men into battle.
Looking over to the rider next to him, the small hobbit slid deeper into the rider’s cloak as the two tried to disappear he gripped his sword tightly and licked his still dry lips again.