Legolas stirred the sputtering fire back to life as the night became chilly. He was still hugely annoyed with Buffy for her infraction, but his fierce anger had cooled somewhat. She had been silent ever since his severe scolding, and he knew she felt remorseful, so he wouldnÂ’t stay angry, but he was not about to let the matter drop yet. He wanted a sincere apology from her and her promise never to touch his belongings again.

The knife was not damaged, and even if Buffy had succeeded in sneaking it back into its sheath without his knowledge, it was unlikely to have been any worse off. He had overreacted, but it just rankled him beyond reason that she had taken his prized knife and used it so carelessly. Legolas was aware she could handle any weapon with deftness and skill, but to use it in such a manner was foolish since she could have cut herself severely, and it was disrespectful. Even though his blades had been covered in things much more foul than soap, her recent employment of said weapon seemed to defile it somewhat.

Legolas glanced over to where Buffy stood leaning against an oak tree, singing softly to herself as she stared out into the night. He smiled ruefully, knowing that under different circumstances, she would have asked him to sing to her, but didnÂ’t dare to now. He sensed her regrets over her selfishness and the underlying sadness that was always there. Listening to her barely audible voice, he picked out the strange melody and words she sang.

“Can’t smile without you; I can’t smile without you. I can’t laugh, and I can’t sing. I’m finding it hard to do anything. You see, I feel sad when you’re sad; I feel glad when you’re glad. If you only knew what I’m going through, you’d know I can’t smile without you…”

Legolas almost laughed at the irony of the verse considering their bond, and was tempted to heal the breach at that moment, but decided it would be better for her to come to him first.

She really was an endearing little creature, however infuriating and confounding she could be at times. All part of her charm, he supposed. Legolas had dismissed his earlier discomfiture when heÂ’d seen her unclothed as simply an exaggerated reaction to the unexpected sight, and her apparent danger of being ravished by the Dunlending. He was thankful that the feral man had run off, but he was eager to be out of the borders of this land. The Wild Men were sworn enemies of Rohan, and not too long ago, had allied themselves with the treacherous Saruman to make war. They were cold blooded and merciless and would not hesitate to kill, maim and rape at will.

Buffy was more than able to hold her own in battle, of that Legolas had no doubt. Though her burden and sadness reminded him of the Ringbearer, her steely strength and aloofness reminded him of the White Lady of Rohan. But where the ShieldmaidenÂ’s beauty put one in mind of a mistral, a cold, sharp wind, BuffyÂ’s was in contrast like a warm, summer breeze; a zephyr. It was more than fitting that her name was Summers. Her bronzed skin should have been a deterrent to her looks, since the elleths and human women that Legolas considered beautiful possessed pale, alabaster skin, but it was not.

The Elf found himself admiring what he had seen of her form by the stream earlier that day. It was hidden beneath her clothing now, but the image seemed to be burned on his brain. She was small and delicate, but her petite body disguised the strength of ten elf warriors, and her spirit even more besides. But despite all her mettle and independence, he longed to draw her close and protect her from her fearsÂ…from whatever haunted her so. Warmth spread throughout his being, and a wave of possessive tenderness seized him and he felt a stirring in his gut that he had not felt in centuries.

Legolas blinked, startled at where his thoughts were leading him. When had he started thinking of Buffy as being beautiful? He knew he possessed compassionate feelings for her before this, but that was only because he was concerned for her as one would feel concern for a troubled child. And that was what she was, he reminded himself, a troubled child. Why should a girl not even a quarter of a century old inspire a sensation such as the one that was making his trousers uncomfortable? Legolas took a few deep breaths, and closed his eyes to gain control of himself. Was this why he had been so perturbed after that incident with the Dunlending? The Elf stood abruptly and shook his head, pacing away from the fire into the cooler night air. Of course not, he thought. I am beyond such things now.

Legolas had never met an elleth who he wished to spend eternity with. Oh, he had hoped to, one day, but none of the ladies who lived in his fatherÂ’s court had stirred his interest enough to develop into love. He had certainly been attracted to many of them and had shared a few kisses here and there, and they had been very pleasant. But none fulfilled the longing in his heart that had lain within him since his father had told him of the first time heÂ’d espied Arvellas, his future bride and LegolasÂ’ mother.

Thranduil had loved her instantly, and, his father would always smile conspiratorially at his son during this part of the tale, she fell for him as well during that meeting, but pretended indifference. The ardent young prince enjoyed the pursuit immensely, begging for her notice, and plying her with blossoms and poetry. Arvellas would put on a good show of disdain and insult, but could not hide a pleased smile when she thought he wasnÂ’t looking. At last, she finally confessed her love for the poor, exhausted Elf, after putting him through the paces of courtship. Thranduil explained to his inquisitive young son that his mother felt she had to be sure of him before she would openly give her heart.

Arvellas told a different story, however. Upon first meeting Thranduil, she had taken an instant dislike to him. He seemed so arrogant and preening, and she felt nothing but distaste for his antics to win her. But one day, when she had once again spurned his suit, she had finally managed to convince him she would never love him. He accepted this, but instead of relief, Arvellas felt regret. HeÂ’d looked so sincerely heartbroken and crestfallen before he turned to go, and her heart instantly melted. They wed the following summer.

Their bond had been one of deep, abiding love, and Legolas always knew he would settle for no less than the same for himself. So, he had let all the pretty elf maids of his acquaintance pass him by, regretful that none had captured his heart. Toward the beginning of his second century of life, he still dared to hope that in his travels and dealings with the Elves of other realms that he would chance to meet an elleth who he could love. After a hundred years, such a one did not seem to exist. A few more centuries passed, and his hope faded, so his mind and heart turned to other things.

Therefore, it was incredibly surprising, that at his age, after having run across many admirable and beautiful Elves, and even daughters of Men over his lifespan without blinking so much as an eyelash, he would respond so physically to a fleeting glimpse of a human woman in her underclothes. Legolas was simply baffled, but he managed to cool down his bodyÂ’s ardor, and return to the fireside, determined now more than ever to keep his distance from Buffy for a while.

That was not to be, he realized regretfully, when he sensed BuffyÂ’s movement towards the campfire. If she was coming to make amends, he could not simply spring up out of his seat and stride away from her without furthering the breach between them, so he stayed where he was. Trying to keep his mind on something mundane, Legolas picked up his quiver and began to sort through it, looking for any arrows that might be in need of repair.

BuffyÂ’s footsteps halted a few feet from the Elf, and he could feel her apprehension and uncertainty. He heard her take a few deep breaths, but he did not look at her. Instead, he waited for her to gather her courage.

She opened her mouth to speak, but the only sound that pierced the quiet night was a long, loud snort and snuffle from Gimli. No one spoke or moved for a moment, and Buffy simply stood there with her mouth agape. Suddenly, she started to giggle, and she thought she saw Legolas bite back a chuckle. Buffy tried to begin once more, but she laughed instead. At that, the Elf’s laughter finally broke through his indifferent façade, and he peered up at her, his eyes twinkling.

They laughed together, trying to be quiet, although they both knew that little woke the Dwarf from such a deep slumber. Buffy squatted on the ground, her breath coming in short rasps, as she lost herself over to her mirth. Evidently, she thought, her case of the giggles was contagious, as Legolas began to laugh a little more loudly and freely at her and the situation they were in.

As soon as Buffy caught her breath, she plopped down on the grass. “Oh boy,” she sighed, and suddenly it seemed easier to form the words she had taken over an hour to come up with. She looked up at the Elf, whose own laughter was subsiding. “Look, Legolas,” she began, not wanting to annoy him with one of her many nicknames for him. “I’m really sorry about earlier. Using your knife without permission for-” she searched for a euphemism, but came up blank, “that. I was just getting desperate, and I didn’t stop to think.”

Legolas kept his eyes on his work, but arched a brow bemusedly. He was all seriousness and sobriety now that their moment of mirth had passed. “I accept your apology, Buffy. I hope you will forgive me for losing my temper with you. It very rarely happens,” he told her sincerely.

“No big,” Buffy replied, shrugging. “It made me feel like a five-year-old, but then again, I was acting like one, so we’re square.”

“We are squares?” Legolas asked dryly.

Buffy chuckled. “I just mean everything’s good between us, at least I hope it is.”

“Ah,” Legolas nodded. “Yes, I understand.” A moment passed, while the Elf continued to work quietly, his features carefully schooled.

“So we’re good?” Buffy prodded, not able to read the Elf’s impassive demeanor. Honestly, she thought, he’s worse than Angel with the cryptic.

“Yes, we are good.” Legolas replied, glancing at her briefly. “What was that strange song you were singing?”

Buffy blinked in surprise at the abrupt change of subject. “Huh?”

“You were singing before. I have never heard any song remotely like that.”

“I’m guessing adult contemporary hasn’t reached the Middle Earth airwaves yet, huh? Maybe Elves are more into protest songs or folk music.” Buffy remarked with a teasing lilt, smirking when Legolas frowned in confusion. At last, she rejoiced internally. A facial expression!

Buffy sat back in the grass and lifted her gaze to the stars. “It’s a song my mom and I used to sing,” she explained, her voice soft. Legolas turned to look at her when he heard the wistfulness in her tone. “I was thinking about it because what happened today sort of reminded me of something that happened when I was five.”

“What was that?” A noise startled the Elf, and Legolas looked over his shoulder while Buffy rattled on.

“Well, we have these things in my world, called record players,” Buffy winced, thinking how difficult it would be to explain the concept of recorded music to an Elf. She had scratched the hell out of her mother’s favorite Barry Manilow album after being told she wasn’t allowed to play with the turntable without an adult. She wasn’t sure exactly how the recording process worked. Sound waves and frequencies seemed to be more up Willow’s alley than hers.

Just as she was about to continue her tale, Legolas slapped his hand over BuffyÂ’s mouth without warning, stilling her speech. BuffyÂ’s eyes widened in surprise, and she started to pull away and ask what in heck-fire he was doing, when she noticed how still and tense his body had become.

“Mmmph?” asked Buffy, her eyes darting around, looking for any sign of danger.

“Shhh,” Legolas urged her, drawing his hand away from her face. His eyes connected with Buffy’s and his head gestured almost imperceptibly toward the edge of the forest. Buffy looked past him to see dark figures emerging from the shelter of the trees.

Dunlendings. The man who had attacked Buffy had returned and brought a large party of his brethren with him. Legolas stood slowly, never taking his eyes off the group of twenty or so ragged men. Buffy stood as well, feeling very unnerved by the sudden appearance of these men and moved warily to GimliÂ’s side to wake him, thinking his assistance might be needed. After nudging the Dwarf several times with her foot, Buffy finally managed to rouse him. Sputtering, Gimli sat up rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“There had better be a good reason for this interruption of a most- oh!” Gimli stopped mid-grumble when he saw their visitors. The torches they carried illuminated their dirty faces, and the three warriors could see the Wild Men also carried what looked like a dead deer between two makeshift poles, and several ratty-looking furs.

No one spoke for a long moment. The men all looked very similar, but Buffy recognized the man at the front as the one she had dubbed ‘Smelly Hairy Guy’ by the way he leered at her, his dark eyes glittering in the firelight. Okay, this is definitely creepy, thought Buffy, mysteriously unable to think of a single quip to diffuse the situation. Finally, Legolas broke the silence.

“What is your business here?” he demanded in an authoritative tone.

An older man with streaks of grey in his mottled hair stepped forward. He gestured to Smelly Hairy Guy as he spoke. “I am Dorn, leader of my clan. My son, Harl wishes to take the woman for a wife.”

Straight and to the point, gotta give ‘em that, Buffy mused, too dazed by the declaration to fully process its meaning.

Again, silence permeated the group, as Legolas struggled to mask his revulsion. The leader spoke again, his eyes shifting from the Elf to Buffy. “He saw her today, and says she is very strong. She will bear him many strong sons.”

“Ew!” Buffy exclaimed, having regained her speaking abilities. Pretty soon, she’d be able to pun, but for now, she could only manage a vehement, “Uh, I don’t think so!”

Legolas shot her a pleading glance, signaling her to be quiet. Buffy sensed that he did not want to anger these people, but she was beyond caring. What kinds of people go around bartering for women in this day and age? she wondered before realizing she wasnÂ’t exactly sure what day and age she was in at the moment.

Dorn, however, ignored her outburst and continued. “We bring gifts,” he gestured for the gift-bearers to lay the furs and the dead deer before the Elf. “Furs, and food. My son lusts mightily for her and will take her this night. We will all drink and celebrate their union, yes?”

Smelly Hairy Guy, or HarlÂ’s leer became even skeevier, if it was possible, and BuffyÂ’s stomach turned. She looked at LegolasÂ’ stoic countenance, and at GimliÂ’s fierce expression and clenched fists and rolled her eyes. If you want something done, better do it yourself.

Buffy moved towards the group, and started to speak but Legolas held her back with one arm. “Thank you for your offer, Dorn. But the lady is not for sale or trade.”

The clan leader’s expression darkened, and his stance became threatening. “You will not accept our gifts?” he growled.

“Actually,” Buffy stated archly, “I’m not really looking to get married just now.” She shrugged in mock apology. “And kids are just not on the agenda. Thanks all the same though. Bye-bye!” Buffy waggled her fingers at them, earning a look of pure derision from the Wild Men, as well as angry rumblings among them.

“Go on with you, traitors!” Gimli shouted. “We’ll have none of your barbarism here!”

Harl stepped forward angrily. “These are our lands, Dwarf!” he shouted. It speaks, Buffy thought bemusedly. “What little we have we protect. We do not fear you, or the Elf! We’ll take what we want.”

Buffy heard herself make a strange growling sound deep in her throat. “You’d better fear all of us, Lothar,” she spat at her so-called suitor. “Especially me.” Her eyes flashed with a deadly gleam. “I won’t be bought or sold or taken, so you can just take your ratty furs, and dead animal and shove off!”

At this, Harl roared and lunged at Buffy violently, but was intercepted by a suddenly ferocious Elf. “Do not even think to touch her!” Legolas caught him by the shoulders, and threw him backwards into the group of men, knocking a few of them down. “We will depart from these lands since they are yours, but do not try to follow and attack us, for you will surely regret it.” He stared down the Wild Men with the strength of the Eldar in his countenance, and they reared back in fear.

“Hey, I was scaring them just fine, Mr. Buttinsky,” Buffy grumbled, sulking that the Elf had stolen her thunder.

Legolas ignored her complaint, sensing a new danger nearby. The horses whinnied in fear, rearing up on their hind legs, and the Elf, Gimli and Buffy looked around for the cause, cursing simultaneously when they saw it.

“Durin’s Beard!”

“Elbereth!”

“Crap!”