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jedibuttercupPG-13; A:tS/LotR; 1200 words. Part of the Edge of a Knife 'verse, for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
twistedshorts.
"You used it, didn't you," Wesley said in disbelieving tones, looking up to meet Illyria's too-blue gaze. "The ring: the one you called Sauron's Bane."
Title: The Road Goes Ever, Ever On
Author: Jedi Buttercup
Disclaimer: The words are mine; the worlds are not.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Post-"Not Fade Away"; slightly pre-trilogy for "The Lord of the Rings"
Notes: Part of the Edge of a Knife 'verse. It's been a long, long time since I last touched this series; I'm not sure I'll ever write the 'unbreak the Quest' longfic that should naturally happen in this 'verse, but hopefully this at least fills in the gaps in the initial setup. :)
Summary: "You used it, didn't you," Wesley said in disbelieving tones, looking up to meet Illyria's too-blue gaze. "The ring: the one you called Sauron's Bane."
They had been in the distant past for three days before Wesley noticed the burn encircling Illyria's left index finger.
It was a small, nearly insignificant injury, less than a centimetre in width, and she had kept it wrapped tightly with a loose scrap of cloth; under any other circumstances, it might perhaps have been excusable that he had failed to observe its presence. But given their current location in time and space, adrift together millennia before any of their companions might come into being, dedicated to yet another impossible quest....
...It wasn't healing. Days after their arrival in this sparsely populated land of river, hill, and forest, her wounded finger still wasn't healing.
Wesley frowned deeply as he set down the brace of rabbits he had hunted for that evening's meal, familiarising himself with the projectile weapons most common to their new era, and caught her hand heedlessly in his. She bristled slightly at the touch, but allowed him to unwind the wrapping, exposing the reddened and weeping skin.
"What did this?" he asked, brow furrowed. "It almost looks like...."
His voice trailed off as he remembered what she'd said after his awakening: that she'd brought them to a time before the Wolf, Ram and Hart achieved a foothold in this reality. A time before her own arrival, in her original, vast form, at the head of a demon army in the service of a being known as Sauron. She had spoken to him of that era only once, when she had caught him researching a mystical object he'd found references to in Knox's files and thought he meant to use it to cast her back to the Void from whence she'd been called. An object in the shape of a small, golden ring.
"You used it, didn't you," he said in disbelieving tones, looking up to meet her too-blue gaze. "The ring: the one you called Sauron's Bane."
His grip had tightened slightly as he spoke; she hissed and withdrew her hand. "And why should I not? None yet lived with a better claim to It than me."
"Sorry," he apologised automatically, looking down to take her hand again. "I think I have some herbs in my pouch here that might help; I found a plant growing wild that looked a great deal like stellaria media. It's commonly used in folk medicine for minor wounds such as this. But why would you risk such a thing? You told me that it was an eater of souls, an instrument of corruption."
Illyria's voice was still sharp as she replied, though she allowed him to continue the examination. "Of course It was; It was a part of his own power. Perhaps as great a part as that which you pulled from me with your Mutari generator, with similar results when It was taken from him. To never die and conquer all: that was his goal in Its creation. It had a will of Its own, and ever strove to return to him."
Wesley's blood chilled at the very thought, and he paused in the process of making a poultice with the sweet-smelling, cooling herb to stare at her again in alarm. "Then why...."
She lifted an annoyed eyebrow. Sometimes, when he couldn't see her face, he still looked and her and first thought of Fred; but her expression ever gave that illusion the lie. "Because in this, Its will and mine were in agreement. And because I knew It could not contain the power required for my goal for more than the briefest moment. Even a thing that cannot die has its threshold for destruction, and in that instant, It burned hotter than the fires of the mightiest dragon that ever lived."
If that was true, then she had come off rather lightly, never mind her unwitting passenger-- though it still concerned him that she wasn't healing at her usual rate. But that wasn't the most worrisome thing about her statement. "Because if this Sauron wasn't wielding it... because it came down through our history with the name of Sauron's Bane... he must have failed of his goal in the end. The ring would want time unwound, that its creator might have another chance to achieve his purpose."
She curled her lip. "The first time It was taken from him was by the insects he wished to conquer; It was cut from his hand and lost for an Age of the world. He spoke carelessly of the matter after he summoned us from the Void, thinking he was retrieving his own former master, and so exposed both his weakness and his deficiencies of rule. Once all the lands had been conquered, it was the work of a moment to deprive him of It in a more final manner. But then It betrayed me as well, to my long imprisonment. It seemed... strangely fitting, to suborn It to my new purpose."
Wesley thought that over as he finished setting the poultice in place and loosely wrapping both hand and finger with a longer strip of cloth. "Then this time you've brought us to-- this is the Age when the ring was lost? You mean to prevent him from regaining it?"
Illyria flexed her hand slightly, turning it to examine the bandage. "That feels... better," she said, the line of her mouth softening into something he might almost have called a smile. "I will still be able to sense Its presence, though my power is nearly spent; we must find It, and guard It, and slay any of Sauron's creatures who come to claim It."
"Guard it?" He sat back slightly, surprised. "Not take it again yourself, or attempt to destroy it?"
"I care not what is done with It; only that It does not fall again into his hands," she said, then looked away, expression almost... uncertain. "I am not the Illyria who once reigned in the Outer Dark. And... little though I have appreciated the change, I find I no longer desire to return to that state of being."
The fact that she wouldn't look at him as she said that made his stomach lurch strangely; Wesley swallowed, then stood, looking for the rabbits he'd dropped. "That's... convenient," he said lightly, "as I have no desire to serve such a being. Dinner? If you're healing now on a more ordinary mortal scale...."
"I am not yet so weak as to require animal protein for sustenance," Illyria replied rather tartly, accepting the change of subject. "The Song of the Green is stronger here; it will suffice, for now."
"Good; as I'm more than hungry enough to eat both myself. I had another, but I visited the local village to try my translation spell and trade for some other small necessities. It worked well enough, though they seemed to think I was something called a Ranger...."
She let him prattle on, eyes closed as she settled in to listen to the plants, and Wesley felt something in him fully relax for the first time since their arrival.
The Road went on, as it ever had... but however initially unwanted his companion, he would not, this time, be left to walk it alone.
(x-posted on twistedshorts and on AO3)
twistedshorts."You used it, didn't you," Wesley said in disbelieving tones, looking up to meet Illyria's too-blue gaze. "The ring: the one you called Sauron's Bane."
Title: The Road Goes Ever, Ever On
Author: Jedi Buttercup
Disclaimer: The words are mine; the worlds are not.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Post-"Not Fade Away"; slightly pre-trilogy for "The Lord of the Rings"
Notes: Part of the Edge of a Knife 'verse. It's been a long, long time since I last touched this series; I'm not sure I'll ever write the 'unbreak the Quest' longfic that should naturally happen in this 'verse, but hopefully this at least fills in the gaps in the initial setup. :)
Summary: "You used it, didn't you," Wesley said in disbelieving tones, looking up to meet Illyria's too-blue gaze. "The ring: the one you called Sauron's Bane."
They had been in the distant past for three days before Wesley noticed the burn encircling Illyria's left index finger.
It was a small, nearly insignificant injury, less than a centimetre in width, and she had kept it wrapped tightly with a loose scrap of cloth; under any other circumstances, it might perhaps have been excusable that he had failed to observe its presence. But given their current location in time and space, adrift together millennia before any of their companions might come into being, dedicated to yet another impossible quest....
...It wasn't healing. Days after their arrival in this sparsely populated land of river, hill, and forest, her wounded finger still wasn't healing.
Wesley frowned deeply as he set down the brace of rabbits he had hunted for that evening's meal, familiarising himself with the projectile weapons most common to their new era, and caught her hand heedlessly in his. She bristled slightly at the touch, but allowed him to unwind the wrapping, exposing the reddened and weeping skin.
"What did this?" he asked, brow furrowed. "It almost looks like...."
His voice trailed off as he remembered what she'd said after his awakening: that she'd brought them to a time before the Wolf, Ram and Hart achieved a foothold in this reality. A time before her own arrival, in her original, vast form, at the head of a demon army in the service of a being known as Sauron. She had spoken to him of that era only once, when she had caught him researching a mystical object he'd found references to in Knox's files and thought he meant to use it to cast her back to the Void from whence she'd been called. An object in the shape of a small, golden ring.
"You used it, didn't you," he said in disbelieving tones, looking up to meet her too-blue gaze. "The ring: the one you called Sauron's Bane."
His grip had tightened slightly as he spoke; she hissed and withdrew her hand. "And why should I not? None yet lived with a better claim to It than me."
"Sorry," he apologised automatically, looking down to take her hand again. "I think I have some herbs in my pouch here that might help; I found a plant growing wild that looked a great deal like stellaria media. It's commonly used in folk medicine for minor wounds such as this. But why would you risk such a thing? You told me that it was an eater of souls, an instrument of corruption."
Illyria's voice was still sharp as she replied, though she allowed him to continue the examination. "Of course It was; It was a part of his own power. Perhaps as great a part as that which you pulled from me with your Mutari generator, with similar results when It was taken from him. To never die and conquer all: that was his goal in Its creation. It had a will of Its own, and ever strove to return to him."
Wesley's blood chilled at the very thought, and he paused in the process of making a poultice with the sweet-smelling, cooling herb to stare at her again in alarm. "Then why...."
She lifted an annoyed eyebrow. Sometimes, when he couldn't see her face, he still looked and her and first thought of Fred; but her expression ever gave that illusion the lie. "Because in this, Its will and mine were in agreement. And because I knew It could not contain the power required for my goal for more than the briefest moment. Even a thing that cannot die has its threshold for destruction, and in that instant, It burned hotter than the fires of the mightiest dragon that ever lived."
If that was true, then she had come off rather lightly, never mind her unwitting passenger-- though it still concerned him that she wasn't healing at her usual rate. But that wasn't the most worrisome thing about her statement. "Because if this Sauron wasn't wielding it... because it came down through our history with the name of Sauron's Bane... he must have failed of his goal in the end. The ring would want time unwound, that its creator might have another chance to achieve his purpose."
She curled her lip. "The first time It was taken from him was by the insects he wished to conquer; It was cut from his hand and lost for an Age of the world. He spoke carelessly of the matter after he summoned us from the Void, thinking he was retrieving his own former master, and so exposed both his weakness and his deficiencies of rule. Once all the lands had been conquered, it was the work of a moment to deprive him of It in a more final manner. But then It betrayed me as well, to my long imprisonment. It seemed... strangely fitting, to suborn It to my new purpose."
Wesley thought that over as he finished setting the poultice in place and loosely wrapping both hand and finger with a longer strip of cloth. "Then this time you've brought us to-- this is the Age when the ring was lost? You mean to prevent him from regaining it?"
Illyria flexed her hand slightly, turning it to examine the bandage. "That feels... better," she said, the line of her mouth softening into something he might almost have called a smile. "I will still be able to sense Its presence, though my power is nearly spent; we must find It, and guard It, and slay any of Sauron's creatures who come to claim It."
"Guard it?" He sat back slightly, surprised. "Not take it again yourself, or attempt to destroy it?"
"I care not what is done with It; only that It does not fall again into his hands," she said, then looked away, expression almost... uncertain. "I am not the Illyria who once reigned in the Outer Dark. And... little though I have appreciated the change, I find I no longer desire to return to that state of being."
The fact that she wouldn't look at him as she said that made his stomach lurch strangely; Wesley swallowed, then stood, looking for the rabbits he'd dropped. "That's... convenient," he said lightly, "as I have no desire to serve such a being. Dinner? If you're healing now on a more ordinary mortal scale...."
"I am not yet so weak as to require animal protein for sustenance," Illyria replied rather tartly, accepting the change of subject. "The Song of the Green is stronger here; it will suffice, for now."
"Good; as I'm more than hungry enough to eat both myself. I had another, but I visited the local village to try my translation spell and trade for some other small necessities. It worked well enough, though they seemed to think I was something called a Ranger...."
She let him prattle on, eyes closed as she settled in to listen to the plants, and Wesley felt something in him fully relax for the first time since their arrival.
The Road went on, as it ever had... but however initially unwanted his companion, he would not, this time, be left to walk it alone.
(x-posted on twistedshorts and on AO3)
