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grundyscribblingTitle: So We Sound Our Victory Cheer
Rating: FR13
Crossover: LotR/Silmarillion
Summary: The conclusion of the Buffy v Morgoth throwdown.
Word Count: 1695
Note: While I've had this confrontation in mind for several years, I didn't know until recently what the song was Buffy heard. Then I stumbled across Needtobreathe's Hard Love (the Andra Day version) and borrowed a few lines.
Anariel drew a ragged breath.
She had lost more than her temper when she went all out against Morgoth. If help didn’t show up soon, it was going to be too late. She’s got no reserves, no Slayer saves, no crazy ideas left to try. It’s just her and him, slugging away trying to outlast each other.
Morgoth had been completely and utterly taken aback by the sudden reversal in fortune, with her the one whaling on him and him at her mercy. He’d tried to fight back, but as long as Anariel still had the rush of fury and adrenaline powering her, he’d been unable to defend himself.
It was only when she started to flag that he managed to shift his form again, but his choice this time – if it was a choice – told her that he was as nearly at the end of his rope as she was.
She had died once, too.
“This is it,” Morgoth taunted her. “Nothing left. No family, no friends, no hope. What are you going to do now?”
“Wow, that one might sting more if you hadn’t tipped your hand way back when. Yeah, there’s nothing left but me. And since I’m running a little short on creative, guess I’ll just have to settle for simple,” she replied grimly, firing a throwing knife at him. “Like hitting you as hard as I can with whatever happens to be at hand.”
Hey, if he’s going to leave weapons lying around everywhere, she might as well use them.
“And that will do what, exactly?” he demanded, staggering as the knife caught him in the leg. “What do you think you’re going to accomplish here, little girl?”
“In the long term, maybe not much,” Anariel snapped. “But in the short term, you’re going to get out of my face!”
It was a little weird to punch her mirror image in the face as hard as she could, but considering the way things have been going, it’s not the weirdest thing that’s happened lately. (However long ‘lately’ was.) Not even close.
Morgoth bellowed in equal parts pain and anger.
“Maybe using me as your form wasn’t the best plan, dumbass. You forgot something – I know this body and face way, way better than you do.”
She waited until his next punch. When it came, she seized ‘her’ arm and twisted, pulling upward.
“And while we’re at it, let me tell you one more thing. I’m onto you. You don’t get to use me to hurt my family ever again. And this-”
She stomped down ruthlessly, inflicting what she hoped would be permanent damage on the leg he hadn’t already been gimping on when this whole thing started.
“-should help reinforce the lesson!”
“You want me to recall today?” her double snarled, lashing out with a wave of pure power that threw her off of him as he reverted to what just might be his own form – finally smaller than twenty foot tall, but still bigger than she was. “Allow me to return the favor. You’re going to remember too!”
He whipped out a hand to grab her around the neck, wrenching her back to her feet and dragging her head forward toward his own. Anariel managed to convert it into a headbutt at the last minute, but it wasn’t anywhere near as effective as she would have liked. And the expression on Morgoth’s face warned her there had been more to whatever had just happened than just a last-ditch effort to break her concentration or possibly her neck.
She didn’t feel anything beyond the exhaustion and pain she’d already been feeling, so analyzing whatever that had been would have to wait until later. Assuming, of course, there was a later.
She was tiring, she was pretty much at the end of everything she had, but so was he, and that thought was enough to keep her upright and hitting him. At least, it was until he lashed out with an equally desperate punch that knocked her down even as her kick sent him flying backwards.
Get up, she told herself. You have to get up. If you don’t, it’s over!
That was when she heard it.
It was faint at first, just at the edge of even Slayer-enhanced elvish hearing, but it was there.
Someone was singing.
No, make that several someones.
They were too far away for her to make out individual voices, much less recognize them. But she did know the familiar cadence of Sindarin. Quenya didn’t sound like that. Neither did ‘California’.
She might just owe Fingon an apology. She’d laughed the first time she heard the story of Maedhros’ rescue from Thangorodrim. To a mind still used to Sunnydale ways, a harp had seemed like a singularly useless item to take on a mission to the Big Bad’s lair, not worth the hassle of carrying it. What was Fingon planning on doing, singing Morgoth to death?
But she got it now. She understood. Song mattered in Arda, and not just the capital S Song. This was the exact opposite of useless – her grandfather’s people must be singing their hearts out to reach her despite there being more than one kind of distance between them.
She’s not alone.
Hold on tight a little longer!
Makalaurë had promised, hadn’t he? All she had to do was hold until her family could reach her. She’s held this long. If she could hear them, they were coming for her. Help was on the way. She may have walled herself into a cage match with Morgoth, but that didn’t mean she was on her own. She chose to put herself squarely in his way so he couldn’t hurt anyone else. She’s got one more choice coming, too – at least, she hoped she did.
What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger!
He’s in huge trouble if that’s the case, because after all he’s just thrown at her that should have killed her, she’s going to be the strongest Child Arda has ever seen. And she’s got just one goal for how to use that strength: putting the plan into effect and ending him. From the moment she’d returned to Arda, his only path to anyone she cared about went directly through her. He was not going to hurt her family again. Ever.
Get back up, cause it’s a hard love!
It took everything to do it, to make herself get back onto her feet. But she did it, because she’ll be damned if she’s going to lose now. Not this close to winning. Not in sight of victory – and with her family and her people watching. She may not be able to see them, but she can hear them. They’re there. And they were not going to watch her lose.
Not now. Not like this.
She pushed herself up.
She no longer had enough for any flips or acrobatics, or even a witty quip. But she could put one foot in front of the other, and take a step toward him.
That was when she felt it.
A sliver of reality. Something that was not just in her head.
There was still singing, but there was music, too. And she could hear more than just words in it. There was light and there was water, and kin just beyond her sight, offering her help. Offering her strength. Offering her the use of their power should she need it.
She reached out for them, grasping blindly, following the song back to what was real.
When she planted her feet this time, they slammed down through a thousand feet of water to find bedrock underneath. She could feel a storm raging around her - the wind, the thunder, the lightning, the waves - and they all said the same thing that came out of her mouth.
GO BACK TO THE VOID!
When she hit him this time – not just with everything she had, but with all of it, the singing, the music, the storm, the water, the rock, the power that wasn’t hers, and the power that was – he vanished, and the world around her dissolved.
For a split second nothing made sense at all, and she staggered, feeling like she was falling again.
Morgoth was gone.
Now was the time to make her choice, and find out if they’d guessed right all those years ago.
Her siblings had all said they felt the acknowledgement of their choice in their fëar and in their bones. (Even Tinu, whose choice had ultimately been made by boarding her ship.) But Anariel had never felt any such thing. So she and the Scoobies had concluded that all her refusing to stay dead in Sunnydale had done was eliminate ‘Men’ as her choice.
Here went nothing…
I choose as Luthien did – maia!
Her fëa wasn’t damaged, just exhausted. But she hadn’t stopped to consider that her bones might be too battered for anything more strenuous than ‘holding still’ at the moment. To say she saw stars would have been an understatement.
But they hadn’t said no.
When her vision finally began to clear from the shock, it registered that there was light. Fresh air. A sea breeze. There were hands she didn’t recognize holding her upright. Her brothers were looking back at her with faces older and tireder than she remembered.
This wasn’t in her head anymore. This was real.
“I win,” she announced, trying not to wince at how shaky her voice came out.
“Indeed,” said a voice to her left.
Maybe she was still out of it. The speaker looked suspiciously like she was made of water. As hard as Anariel tried to focus on the hand holding her, it still stubbornly resembled nothing more than liquid inexplicably given human shape.
“Morgoth has been thrown back,” the mystery woman agreed. “And you, Elerondiel, have reached the seas of Aman. You are safe. He cannot touch you here.”
“Oh, good,” Anariel said, deciding that trying to focus on anyone or anything in particular was overrated. “I’m going to sleep for a week. Nobody wake me unless there’s an apocalypse.”
She surrendered to true unconsciousness with profound relief.
Rating: FR13
Crossover: LotR/Silmarillion
Summary: The conclusion of the Buffy v Morgoth throwdown.
Word Count: 1695
Note: While I've had this confrontation in mind for several years, I didn't know until recently what the song was Buffy heard. Then I stumbled across Needtobreathe's Hard Love (the Andra Day version) and borrowed a few lines.
Anariel drew a ragged breath.
She had lost more than her temper when she went all out against Morgoth. If help didn’t show up soon, it was going to be too late. She’s got no reserves, no Slayer saves, no crazy ideas left to try. It’s just her and him, slugging away trying to outlast each other.
Morgoth had been completely and utterly taken aback by the sudden reversal in fortune, with her the one whaling on him and him at her mercy. He’d tried to fight back, but as long as Anariel still had the rush of fury and adrenaline powering her, he’d been unable to defend himself.
It was only when she started to flag that he managed to shift his form again, but his choice this time – if it was a choice – told her that he was as nearly at the end of his rope as she was.
She had died once, too.
“This is it,” Morgoth taunted her. “Nothing left. No family, no friends, no hope. What are you going to do now?”
“Wow, that one might sting more if you hadn’t tipped your hand way back when. Yeah, there’s nothing left but me. And since I’m running a little short on creative, guess I’ll just have to settle for simple,” she replied grimly, firing a throwing knife at him. “Like hitting you as hard as I can with whatever happens to be at hand.”
Hey, if he’s going to leave weapons lying around everywhere, she might as well use them.
“And that will do what, exactly?” he demanded, staggering as the knife caught him in the leg. “What do you think you’re going to accomplish here, little girl?”
“In the long term, maybe not much,” Anariel snapped. “But in the short term, you’re going to get out of my face!”
It was a little weird to punch her mirror image in the face as hard as she could, but considering the way things have been going, it’s not the weirdest thing that’s happened lately. (However long ‘lately’ was.) Not even close.
Morgoth bellowed in equal parts pain and anger.
“Maybe using me as your form wasn’t the best plan, dumbass. You forgot something – I know this body and face way, way better than you do.”
She waited until his next punch. When it came, she seized ‘her’ arm and twisted, pulling upward.
“And while we’re at it, let me tell you one more thing. I’m onto you. You don’t get to use me to hurt my family ever again. And this-”
She stomped down ruthlessly, inflicting what she hoped would be permanent damage on the leg he hadn’t already been gimping on when this whole thing started.
“-should help reinforce the lesson!”
“You want me to recall today?” her double snarled, lashing out with a wave of pure power that threw her off of him as he reverted to what just might be his own form – finally smaller than twenty foot tall, but still bigger than she was. “Allow me to return the favor. You’re going to remember too!”
He whipped out a hand to grab her around the neck, wrenching her back to her feet and dragging her head forward toward his own. Anariel managed to convert it into a headbutt at the last minute, but it wasn’t anywhere near as effective as she would have liked. And the expression on Morgoth’s face warned her there had been more to whatever had just happened than just a last-ditch effort to break her concentration or possibly her neck.
She didn’t feel anything beyond the exhaustion and pain she’d already been feeling, so analyzing whatever that had been would have to wait until later. Assuming, of course, there was a later.
She was tiring, she was pretty much at the end of everything she had, but so was he, and that thought was enough to keep her upright and hitting him. At least, it was until he lashed out with an equally desperate punch that knocked her down even as her kick sent him flying backwards.
Get up, she told herself. You have to get up. If you don’t, it’s over!
That was when she heard it.
It was faint at first, just at the edge of even Slayer-enhanced elvish hearing, but it was there.
Someone was singing.
No, make that several someones.
They were too far away for her to make out individual voices, much less recognize them. But she did know the familiar cadence of Sindarin. Quenya didn’t sound like that. Neither did ‘California’.
She might just owe Fingon an apology. She’d laughed the first time she heard the story of Maedhros’ rescue from Thangorodrim. To a mind still used to Sunnydale ways, a harp had seemed like a singularly useless item to take on a mission to the Big Bad’s lair, not worth the hassle of carrying it. What was Fingon planning on doing, singing Morgoth to death?
But she got it now. She understood. Song mattered in Arda, and not just the capital S Song. This was the exact opposite of useless – her grandfather’s people must be singing their hearts out to reach her despite there being more than one kind of distance between them.
She’s not alone.
Hold on tight a little longer!
Makalaurë had promised, hadn’t he? All she had to do was hold until her family could reach her. She’s held this long. If she could hear them, they were coming for her. Help was on the way. She may have walled herself into a cage match with Morgoth, but that didn’t mean she was on her own. She chose to put herself squarely in his way so he couldn’t hurt anyone else. She’s got one more choice coming, too – at least, she hoped she did.
What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger!
He’s in huge trouble if that’s the case, because after all he’s just thrown at her that should have killed her, she’s going to be the strongest Child Arda has ever seen. And she’s got just one goal for how to use that strength: putting the plan into effect and ending him. From the moment she’d returned to Arda, his only path to anyone she cared about went directly through her. He was not going to hurt her family again. Ever.
Get back up, cause it’s a hard love!
It took everything to do it, to make herself get back onto her feet. But she did it, because she’ll be damned if she’s going to lose now. Not this close to winning. Not in sight of victory – and with her family and her people watching. She may not be able to see them, but she can hear them. They’re there. And they were not going to watch her lose.
Not now. Not like this.
She pushed herself up.
She no longer had enough for any flips or acrobatics, or even a witty quip. But she could put one foot in front of the other, and take a step toward him.
That was when she felt it.
A sliver of reality. Something that was not just in her head.
There was still singing, but there was music, too. And she could hear more than just words in it. There was light and there was water, and kin just beyond her sight, offering her help. Offering her strength. Offering her the use of their power should she need it.
She reached out for them, grasping blindly, following the song back to what was real.
When she planted her feet this time, they slammed down through a thousand feet of water to find bedrock underneath. She could feel a storm raging around her - the wind, the thunder, the lightning, the waves - and they all said the same thing that came out of her mouth.
GO BACK TO THE VOID!
When she hit him this time – not just with everything she had, but with all of it, the singing, the music, the storm, the water, the rock, the power that wasn’t hers, and the power that was – he vanished, and the world around her dissolved.
For a split second nothing made sense at all, and she staggered, feeling like she was falling again.
Morgoth was gone.
Now was the time to make her choice, and find out if they’d guessed right all those years ago.
Her siblings had all said they felt the acknowledgement of their choice in their fëar and in their bones. (Even Tinu, whose choice had ultimately been made by boarding her ship.) But Anariel had never felt any such thing. So she and the Scoobies had concluded that all her refusing to stay dead in Sunnydale had done was eliminate ‘Men’ as her choice.
Here went nothing…
I choose as Luthien did – maia!
Her fëa wasn’t damaged, just exhausted. But she hadn’t stopped to consider that her bones might be too battered for anything more strenuous than ‘holding still’ at the moment. To say she saw stars would have been an understatement.
But they hadn’t said no.
When her vision finally began to clear from the shock, it registered that there was light. Fresh air. A sea breeze. There were hands she didn’t recognize holding her upright. Her brothers were looking back at her with faces older and tireder than she remembered.
This wasn’t in her head anymore. This was real.
“I win,” she announced, trying not to wince at how shaky her voice came out.
“Indeed,” said a voice to her left.
Maybe she was still out of it. The speaker looked suspiciously like she was made of water. As hard as Anariel tried to focus on the hand holding her, it still stubbornly resembled nothing more than liquid inexplicably given human shape.
“Morgoth has been thrown back,” the mystery woman agreed. “And you, Elerondiel, have reached the seas of Aman. You are safe. He cannot touch you here.”
“Oh, good,” Anariel said, deciding that trying to focus on anyone or anything in particular was overrated. “I’m going to sleep for a week. Nobody wake me unless there’s an apocalypse.”
She surrendered to true unconsciousness with profound relief.
no subject
Date: 2019-08-14 03:39 am (UTC)... I'm enjoying this a lot; you don't have to answer any of my questions; I just suck at delayed gratification.
no subject
Date: 2019-08-15 03:10 am (UTC)As to whether Anariel can choose maia, she just did. :)
no subject
Date: 2019-08-14 01:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-08-15 03:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-08-17 08:57 pm (UTC)Just one thing: what did Morgoth implant in Buffy's mind when he grabbed her by the throat? I have a very bad feeling about that...