Sad Wings of Destiny

It wasn�t long until the conversation about Aragorn fizzled out, and Miriel and Elladan walked along in silence. Every now and again, Elrohir would pop out from behind some craggy rock, checking in on the two and updating them on the enemy�s position.

A couple of hours later, the Slayer found herself stumbling on the uneven terrain. �I need to rest,� she informed the Elf, plopping down on the ground.

�I�ve forgotten that you�re sick,� said Elladan, taking a seat beside her. �How are you feeling?�

�Tired. And weak,� she answered, grabbing one of her water skins that the Elf had been carrying. She was thirsty, very thirsty.

Elladan, wondering if Miriel�s fever had returned, reached out, wanting to feel her forehead. She eased away from the Elf, uncomfortable at the thought of him touching her.

�I�m not going to hurt you. I want to see if your fever has returned,� he said to the girl. �Trust me, Miriel.�

The Slayer returned to her original position, allowing Elladan to check her temperature. His hand felt cool against her skin. �Alas, it is as I thought,� he concluded grimly. �Your fever has returned.�

Miriel gulped down some water, as the Elf rifled through his own bags, in search of something. �We need to give you another dose of medicine to help break that fever of yours,� he declared. �And I�d like to check the wound on your back to see if it�s healing properly.�

The girl wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, finding herself feeling worse than before. At this point, she was willing to take anything to feel like her old self again.

Elladan gave her another small bowl of the fruity elixir, and offered her some of his lembas.

�No, thank you,� she said, pushing away his hand that held the elvish bread.

�It will help,� he replied, taking a bite, before offering her some again. �It will renew your strength, for a time.� He inched the cake-like food toward her mouth. �Just one bite.�

Miriel gave in, and took a mouthful. Her taste buds instantly came alive.

At that moment, Elrohir appeared, seemingly out of thin air, startling the Slayer. �How do you do that?� she asked, her heart suddenly pounding feverishly in her chest. �How is it that you manage to creep up on me without so much as a sound?�

The Elf smiled. �Ancient elven secret,� he replied with a wink. He then pressed his forefinger against his lips. �Shh.�

�The enemy?� queried Elladan, his head darting up, his widening grey eyes fixed on his twin.

�Still moving west,� replied Elrohir. �They�ll have a rude awakening when they reach their destination.�

�Can we take to the road now?� asked Miriel, almost pleadingly. �I hate climbing up and down hills. It�s exhausting!�

The brothers exchanged a look. �I do not think it is wise to do so just yet. We need to wait for morning,� answered Elrohir.

Miriel grumpily sighed, none too eager to face the uneven ground again.

�Her fever has returned,� said Elladan to his brother. �Perhaps if we�re wary, we can walk the road some.� He shifted his gaze to the Slayer. �I think it will be easier for Miriel.�

The youngest son of Elrond stepped away from them and returned to the road, staring toward the west. He was reluctant to take to the road. However, the Orcs were moving rather quickly in the opposite direction. He then turned, facing the east, his elvish eyes scanning the area for any sign of the enemy coming from the Misty Mountains. After surveying the area, he returned to his traveling companions.

�If you think it will make things easier for Miriel, then we may take to the road, though we must remain vigilant. I fear there might be other yrch roaming in the hills.�

The brothers then checked on the Slayer�s injury to her back, finding that the wound had closed and was healing nicely. Several minutes later, they resumed their trek to Rivendell.

For a long while Miriel was able to keep up with the twins, but after a few hours she began to fall behind again. She was given a drink of miruvor, which invigorated her weary body, and allowed her to walk at the same pace as the twins for some time.

With the arrival of dawn, the girl could clearly see the woods that ran along the west side of the River Mitheithel. They would soon be approaching The Last Bridge, a place that brought back many memories to the young Slayer. She had called those woods home, for a time, though that seemed like ages ago. She wondered how long it had been since she had left that area and if the trolls were still prowling about. She wanted to share her story with the sons of Elrond, but figured they would find her tale of taking out two trolls insignificant. They were Elves! Surely, they had seen more impressive battles than she had.

When they reached the pass in the rock wall that lead to the lake where Miriel had met the dwarves, she stopped. A wistful smile came to her face as she traced the dwarvish runes etched on the rock�s smooth surface with her fingertip. She turned to the twins, asking, �Can we rest by the lake for a while?�

The Half-elves were somewhat taken aback that the Slayer knew of the hidden lake, and from the look on her face, it appeared to have brought to mind some delightful memory. Upon seeing that rare smile, they found themselves unable to deny her request. Elrohir insisted that he lead the way down the path, followed by the Slayer and then Elladan.

When they stepped out into the enclosure, the place looked just as beautiful as Miriel had recalled.

�You�ve been here before, no?� asked Elrohir, smiling because she was smiling.

�Yes,� she answered fondly. �I met some dwarves here, a while back.�

�The Naugrim have been coming here for centuries,� revealed Elladan, as his eyes continued to scope the area for any signs of other people.

�Hmm, yes, so I�ve been told,� remarked Miriel softly, her eyes stopping on the willow tree beside the lake. She then took off toward the water�s edge, thinking how refreshing it would be to wash her face with the cool, clean water.

The trio rested under the boughs of the willow for a while. And it was there that Miriel shared her story about her first meeting with the dwarves, and how she happened to capture one in her snare.

The sons of Elrond were fascinated by her tale, and found it all the more remarkable to learn that she had been on her own for so long. While the Elves tried to get a time frame out of her, Miriel was uncertain whether her encounter with the dwarves had happened weeks or months ago. She had given up on trying to track time when Bregolas was still alive. It just didn�t seem to matter any more.

After another bite of lembas and a sip of miruvor, the trio set out once again. Miriel�s spirits remained high, (whether that had to do with the elven cordial or not, she couldn�t tell). She was somewhat surprised to find herself feeling so at ease around the sons of Elrond. In some strange way, it almost seemed as if she had known them her whole life, like they were long, lost friends. Maybe it was that elvish air about them that made her feel that way. At least, that�s what she believed because any time Aragorn�s name was mentioned; the Slayer scowled and felt nothing but contempt for the Ranger Chieftain.

Despite her comfort with the twins, she kept her guard up all the same. The sons of Elrond had proved to be a crafty pair, each trying, in their own fashion, to subtly gain information about her life prior to leaving Minas Tirith. Yet, Miriel wasn�t about to divulge her life story to anyone, not even the Elves. It was one thing to talk in generalities, but it was altogether different to get into specifics, and that was something she would not do � ever!

The day�s march was long and tedious. It appeared that the bridge had looked much closer than it actually was. Elladan and Elrohir had done their best to help pass the time by telling old stories about their kindred and singing ancient songs about the stars. They really seemed fixated on the stars.

It�s no wonder, she thought. Their grandfather is E�rendil the Beloved, who sails the skies in his ship, wearing the last remaining Silmaril of F�anor.

Regardless, the sons of Elrond seemed a tad bit overly fond of stars. They got this certain gleam in their eyes when they spoke of the various creations of Varda Elbereth. Miriel just didn�t get it. She preferred day to night, and the sun to the moon. Perhaps that was a trait that distinguished the younger children from the eldest. Man seemed to have a natural affinity toward the sun, though there were some in Gondor that looked upon the moon and stars with greater affection. The Slayer assumed that those Gondorians were mirroring the Elves, remembering times past, as there were still a great many in Minas Tirith that looked upon the Elder with reverence.

By late afternoon, they finally reached the bridge. As they crossed, Miriel�s eyes lingered on the face of the wall where she had rappelled down to the river to refill her water skins. Even to this day, she considered that one of her greatest achievements, as it showed how resourceful she could be when the need arose. She felt a bit of excitement at returning to this part of Eriador. In the woods of Rhudaur she had experienced some major triumphs. Besides slaying two trolls, she had also caught and cooked her first meal here, learned the art of setting traps with only rope, and learned to nest in the treetops.

Under the advisement of the twins, they left the road and would stick to the woods for a time. The trees offered them greater concealment and would make it more difficult to be espied by the enemy. The Slayer didn�t question the Elves for she too, preferred walking through the forest than the open road.

Yet, as the sun waned and light within the woods grew fainter, Miriel grew uneasy. She kept one hand wrapped around the hilt of her sword, wondering if they were anywhere near her former camp where the trolls had discovered her. Every little noise caused Miriel�s head to spin in the direction of the sound, half-expecting to see something undesirable in nature.

�Why are you so jumpy?� asked Elrohir after seeing the girl�s head jerk toward a fallen pine cone.

�There are trolls in these woods,� she answered. Her tone revealed her trepidation.

�The Trollshaws are many leagues away,� remarked Elladan indifferently, seemingly unworried that they would encounter any of the enormous creatures. �As long as we remain cautious, we�ll be fine.�

�We know these parts like the back of our hands,� added Elrohir. �We would not come this way if it was perilous.�

�Fear not, Miriel!� interjected Elladan, a smile coming to his fair face. �You have Buffy with you! That should bring you comfort.�

Miriel�s jaw nearly hit the ground when she heard that. She snapped it closed, biting her lip, wondering how on earth Elladan knew about Buffy!

Can he read my mind, my thoughts? she anxiously thought to herself. How is that possible? While Miriel knew that she and Buffy had a special Slayer bond, that didn�t explain how Elladan knew of her mentor�s existence. In the words of Buffy, she was �freaking out�, although doing her best to hide it.

�B-buffy?� she stammered.

�Yes, your sword,� he replied, pointing to Bregolas� blade that hung at her side. �We heard you mumbling that name whilst you slept. We presumed that that was the name of your blade.�

�What a strange name it is?� observed Elrohir. �What does it mean?�

Relief instantly came over Miriel, seeing that the Elves had drawn their own conclusion, wrongly though it was. She chuckled, thinking it was best to let the Elves think that.

�Yes, my sword,� she said, still giggling. �I don�t rightly know what the name means. It� it just came to me one day.�

�Well, from what I have seen, Buffy is notched and we�ll need to whet it the first chance we get,� advised the eldest son of Elrond.

The young Slayer couldn�t stifle her laughter. Deep down, she knew that her mentor had heard the Elves comments. She wondered what Buffy would think about being referred to as a notched sword.�

�What is so amusing?� asked Elrohir, chuckling along with the girl.

�It�s nothing,� she replied, unwilling to mention her meetings with a Slayer from the future when she sleeps. That was something that she considered private and would keep to herself.

When the brothers determined that it was getting too dark to continue, they called an end to the day�s march. Just like the last time Miriel had slept in the woods, she scoped out a suitable tree to sleep in. She didn�t care if the Elves thought that odd. She felt safer in the treetops, especially knowing that there were nefarious types lurking about. Maybe the sons of Elrond didn�t feel threatened by the forest, but Miriel did.

Surprisingly, the Elves didn�t mock the Slayer when she told them what she was doing. In fact, they told her that their kin in L�rien actually built their houses in the treetops as a means of defense. Truth be told, that made her feel better. And she found it comforting that both Elves had decided to join her, finding their own branches to nest in.



They started the day�s march at dawn, meandering their way through the woods. According to the brothers, they could reach Rivendell in four days if they kept at a good pace, and took shorter breaks. Miriel�s fever had finally broken, and she was feeling better, but her strength had not returned to normal as of yet. Somehow, (maybe it was sheer determination!), she managed to keep up with Elladan and Elrohir nonetheless.

It was the following day, around midmorning, when Miriel�s bout of melancholy returned, full force. It so happened that they came across that long, massive hill that she had crossed when she left the road after Bregolas� death. This time, however, they were south of the mound. Yet, for some reason, the sight of that hill triggered all those awful memories from when she was held captive by Valandil and his henchmen. The memories were so vivid, so real, that in some ways Miriel felt like she was reliving them all over again. The scars on her body throbbed painfully; the smell of death and decaying flesh wafted into her nostrils, making her feel sick to her stomach. And worst of all, she knew, somewhere out there, was the old hag, lying in wait for the moment when she would rear her ugly head, confronting the Slayer once again. Miriel didn�t just know it. She felt it. She felt it in every fiber of her being. And right now, she wasn�t strong enough to face such a formidable foe.

Of course, both Elladan and Elrohir noticed the swift change in Miriel�s mood. She had been in relatively high spirits since she had joined them, but now, she had become withdrawn, distant. Fear emanated from her essence. She cast nervous glances to the north, her eyes seemingly searching the woods for some unseen menace. Her hands remained in constant motion, whether rubbing at her wrists and chest or fiddling with the man�s ring that hung from the chain around her neck. It was obvious that she was in a state of distress, but what the cause was, neither could say.

�What is it, Miriel?� asked Elladan, his voice rife with concern. �What is it that troubles you so?�

The Slayer wouldn�t answer, which rattled the brothers even more. They too began searching the northern woods with their elven eyes, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever it was that seemed to be silently terrorizing the young girl. They could see nothing, nor did they sense any unseen fell presence. All appeared normal.

Though they had been traveling due east (for the most part), Miriel kept veering to the south, back toward the road. Whenever the Elves steered her back on the correct course, she�d follow it for a while, but then swerve back to the south again.

Desperate to leave the woods, Miriel finally uttered, �I no longer feel safe in here.�

The twins exchanged glances. Neither spoke a word, but both decided it was best to exit the forest as soon as they could. They assumed the Slayer had some innate ability to perceive an unseen threat, and that it would be in the best interests of all three to heed that warning.

Miriel quickly led the way, moving faster then she had all day. The brothers had no problem keeping up, and found themselves anxiously looking over their shoulders in case any were pursuing them.

Once they stepped out of the wood, the Slayer had thought she�d feel better. But she didn�t. To her, it seemed as if some black shadow had crept over her, filling her with fear and dread. Unsure of where Rivendell was (she had never thought to question her companions on its whereabouts), her eyes surveyed the winding road leading over the Misty Mountains. She wondered if they would climb its heights and come across the remains of Bregolas. She felt horrible that she had left him up there, left him for the carrion fowl to feed upon. Ghastly images plagued her mind, making her feel even more depressed.

Apprehension gnawed at the sons of Elrond, a result of Miriel�s despondency. One of the twins remained with her at all times, while the other scouted the road up ahead, fearing an ambush of some sort. All were quite eager to reach their destination as quickly as possible.

The following evening, the trio finally reached the ford at the Bruinen River, much to the relief of Elladan and Elrohir.

�The River Bruinen forms the border of our lands,� announced Elrohir, his eyes surveying the tall bank on the other side.

Thin wisps of fog lingered above the stream, gently gliding along with the current that sprang from the shoulder of the mountain chain to their east. In the fading light, Miriel could still see swirling foam covering the water�s surface, as the stream rushed over the rocky bed.

�It�s not deep, is it?� she asked, fearing that after another long day�s march, the river would sweep her off her weary feet.

�No, it is not deep,� replied Elladan, his eyes scanning the high bank on the other side of the stream. �No more than a foot,� he added, as the shadows of night seemed to rapidly close in on them.

Miriel eyed the steep embankment on the other side. Climbing that with wet leather boots would most certainly guarantee blisters on the back of both heels. She was nearly tempted to pull off her shoes and stockings, but thought better of it. Chances were, the rocky bed was slick with moss, and, with her luck, she�d probably slip and fall, thus injuring herself.

�Let�s get a move on,� counseled Elrohir. �Night is nearly upon us.� He then went forward into the river.

Grumbling, the Slayer then stepped into the water, her boots instantly becoming soaked. She slowly sloshed along, afraid of losing her balance on the slick rocks beneath her feet. Sure enough, about midway across, she lost her footing and let out a sharp cry. Elladan, who had been walking behind her, steadied her before she could fall into the water.

�Thanks,� she said, grateful at the Elf�s quick reflexes.

�You�re welcome.� Elladan kept a hold of Miriel�s elbow until she had safely reached the other side.

Once on the pebbly shore, the girl flexed each foot, trying to squeeze the excess water from her boots. �How much further?� she asked, her eyes lingering on the steep hill before them.

�We�re about six leagues from our home,� answered Elrohir.

Miriel knew there was no way she could travel another eighteen miles tonight. If she could make it up the steep embankment, she�d consider that a feat in and of itself.

�Let us at least get up over this bank,� suggested Elladan. �We�ll camp amidst the pines tonight.�

The Slayer wasn�t fond of pine trees with their sticky sap, and pointy needles. But, at least, they were now in the elvish realm, which brought her peace of mind.

Unlike the twins, Miriel had to clamber up the embankment, nearly on all fours. The day�s hike had left her exhausted. When she reached the top, the land leveled off, and a cleared pathway ran between the towering trees.

�What say you, Miriel? Can you walk a bit further?� asked Elrohir, who didn�t seem to be lacking energy.

�I think so,� she answered, panting from the climb.

The three then started down the trail, as the shadows thickened around them. They had gone maybe a mile or so when the discomfort of the wet leather rubbing against the back of the Slayer�s heels became unbearable and caused her to stop.

�My feet hurt,� she complained. �I think I have blisters.�

�Then we will stop for the night,� said Elladan, heaving the bags off his shoulders.

�We should reach home tomorrow afternoon,� remarked the youngest son of Elrond. He too began removing his burdens. �That is, if your feet hold up.�

�I can�t help it,� she said defensively. �Does the wet leather not bother your feet?�

�No,� both brothers answered in unison.

Miriel plopped down on the ground. �I guess the elven cobblers are superior to those of Minas Tirith,� she said, as she pulled off her boots and stockings. �Any chance of a girl purchasing boots of such fine craftsmanship?� she asked, nudging her head toward their booted feet.

�We�ll see what we can do,� responded Elrohir with a chuckle, happy to see that Miriel�s mood had greatly improved.

�Let�s take a look at those blisters of yours,� declared Elladan, as he sat by the Slayer. He inspected her cold feet and could see the skin had been rubbed raw on the back of both of her heels. �Some salve will help soothe the pain.�

The oldest son of Elrond then dug through his bag, and smeared the elvish ointment on the broken blisters. Just like his twin, he was gladdened to see that Miriel showed signs of her earlier self.

It was true. Since entering the realm of Rivendell, that ominous feeling that had enveloped the Slayer had dissipated. Maybe it had to do with the elvish magic she had read so much about, or, perhaps it was the company that she kept. Elladan and Elrohir restored her belief that the Elves were still a goodly people, that they were very much like the Elves of old - noble, caring, and most importantly, trustworthy.

As she sat there, at ease, talking with the twins, she felt an air of excitement at being in a genuine elven realm. She had always dreamed of such a thing, and now, it was a reality. Sure, she hadn�t seen any Elves other than the sons of Elrond, but tomorrow, that would all change. The brothers informed her that she would first meet with their father, the Lord of Imladris himself. How could she not be excited by that?! Though, perhaps nervously excited described her feelings best.

Miriel couldn�t help but wonder when the last time one from Gondor had set foot in Rivendell. It had to have been many generations ago, probably during the times of the Last Alliance, which was during the Second Age! That thought made her even more nervous.

Despite the brothers� urging her to sleep, the Slayer found herself unable to. While physically tired, she remained mentally alert. It appeared that her companions felt the same way, as neither of them slept a wink that night. Instead, they spent the night in idle conversation.

Before setting off the next morning, Miriel was given some cloth to wrap around her ankles to help cushion her heels against the wet leather of her boots. The final leg of their trip would be about seventeen miles, and one that promised a decent meal once they reached the House of Elrond.

Perhaps it was Miriel�s perception, but it seemed that the last stretch of their journey seemed the longest. They continued climbing in and out of ravines, (something she had already become accustomed to), although now, the leather from her boots rubbed painfully against the back of her heels. The cloth that was meant to act as a cushion instead absorbed the blood that oozed from her raw flesh. It took everything she had to keep up with the Elves.

She had discovered it was wise to keep one�s eyes focused on the pathway. The one instant when she looked up at the morning sky, she ended up tripping over a gnarled tree root that protruded from the earth. From then on, she kept her eyes fixed on the trail, trying to follow the steps of Elrohir.

No one really spoke much, not like they had throughout the night. Perhaps they were all talked out for the time being. They took their first break around midday near the ridge of a deep valley. As soon as they had sat beneath the boughs of an oak, Miriel, no longer able to tolerate the constant rubbing on her heels, pulled off both her boots and stockings. Each strip of cloth was saturated with a combination of the salve and blood.

�I cannot wear these any longer!� grumbled Miriel, shoving her stockings into her boots.

�Why did you not say anything?� queried Elladan after hearing the girl�s complaint.

�I�ve been too much of a burden to you both already,� she answered. �I do not want to add to it. Besides, the pain is less now. I just need to go a while without wearing shoes.�

�Let�s put a bit more salve - � started Elladan before Miriel cut him off.

� - No, it�s alright,� she interjected. �I think a bit of air will do some good. I�ve been down this road before. But thanks, anyway.� She offered the Elf a quick smile, hoping she hadn�t offended him.

They ate and drank a bit while they rested. Prior to setting off again, Miriel felt the call of nature, and had to pee. Like she always had since traveling with the brothers, she wandered away from the twins, looking for a suitable place that offered her some privacy. A few yards off the trail she found such a place behind a huge old oak tree, its girth offering her ample concealment.

As Miriel squatted, doing her business, she heard a rustling in the treetops. Shifting her gaze upwards, she nearly fell over when she spotted a few Elves, dressed in green, hidden in the upper branches.

�What the - � she exclaimed, quickly pulling her breeches up, angered that the Elves had not revealed themselves prior to her peeing. �Perverts!� she screeched, looking around on the ground for something to hit the voyeurs with. She found a rock and chucked it at one of the Elves, nailing him in the arm. As she hurled every curse word she could think of at the Elves, Elladan and Elrohir came rushing over to see what the commotion was all about.

Apparently, this episode, especially Miriel�s heated reaction, amused the Elves. One by one the Elves sprang out of the tree, landing effortlessly on the ground.

Smirking, one of them said, �Calm down, Dagnir.�

The girl continued with her tirade, as the sons of the Elrond tried to diffuse the situation.

�Why did you not announce yourselves, Geldur?� queried Elladan.

�We�re on sentry duty, my lord,� replied the Elf, still wearing a smirk on his face. �We are to maintain our position at all times.�

� - You sick bastards!� Miriel finished her rant and stomped back toward the path.

�So that�s the Slayer, eh?� commented the Geldur, watching as the girl took off. �I like her. She�s feisty.�

�Should there be a next time, I hope that you�ll have the decency to announce yourselves before she... � Elladan paused, not really wanting to finish his sentence. Regardless, Geldur and the other guards understood his message loud and clear.

Miriel�s mood soured. When the twins returned, she had her boots in hand and was ready to go.

�I�m sorry about that,� apologized Elladan.

�You should be!� she shot back angrily. �You knew they were there, and didn�t say a word.�

�I did not! I swear!� protested the eldest son of Elrond. After everything they had been through, the last thing he wanted was for Miriel to be wroth with him.

�He�s telling the truth, Miriel,� added Elrohir. �We did not know they were there.�

Still steaming, the girl said, �Let�s go.� She then took off down the path, not bothering to wait for the sons of Elrond to gather their baggage. Miriel would not pee again until they reached the House of Elrond.

The Slayer simmered in silence for a few miles. But, gradually, her anger waned and she no longer blamed the twins for that unfortunate incident.

Her spirits were raised when she began to smell the sweet fragrance of flowers and freshly cut grass lingering in the air.

�We�re nearly there, Miriel,� said a delighted Elrohir, as they stamped down a steep slope. �We�ll soon reach the bridge leading into the valley.�

The path steadily sloped downward, which made it far easier to walk. Elves appeared more openly now, some patrolling, others going about their business, but all greeted the sons of Elrond while scrutinizing Miriel with their keen elvish eyes.

Miriel heard the sounds of the waterfall long before she actually saw it. The brothers informed her that the falls ran into the River Bruinen, which wound its way through the south side of the valley.

They came upon a narrow stone bridge that crossed the swift-moving current of the Bruinen. The river was just as foamy there as it had been at the ford. Once they crossed the bridge, the road continued to slope down until it reached a stairway, cut into the rock wall. It was there that Miriel first glimpsed the magnificent House of Elrond.

As she descended the steps, Miriel drank in her surroundings, finding them more spectacular than she could have ever imagined. From what she could see, the house itself looked to be wrought from both stone and wood, married in perfect harmony, and fit perfectly into its natural setting. The Slayer was somewhat surprised that Rivendell was not a city like Minas Tirith or Dol Amroth, that it contained one massive building in which all the residents resided. There were a few other structures, off to her left, but they were not dwellings except for the stables, which, of course, housed only horses.

The sons of Elrond happily explained these things along the way. There were a lot more Elves on this side of the bridge than the other. Those that she passed looked her up and down with their wide grey eyes, some whispering behind their hands to their traveling companions. That made her highly uncomfortable and very self-conscious.

Noticing Miriel�s discomfort, Elrohir said, �Fret not, Miriel! Our kin marvel at the fact that a Slayer walks amongst them, something that has not happened for ages untold.�

Miriel glanced at the youngest son of Elrond, stunned to hear that the Elves viewed her in the same manner as she did them.

�You�re a myth come alive,� added Elladan with a chortle. �And, it seems that word of your coming has spread throughout all of Imladris.�

The Slayer could feel many eyes watching her. It suddenly occurred to her how horrid her appearance was. Her garments were soiled with blood and grime, her hair unkept, and of course, she walked barefoot. Not to mention her body odor. Miriel did not smell like freshly cut daisies. No wonder they were all staring at her! She looked uncomely.

Shifting her boots to one hand, the girl tried to nonchalantly comb her hair with her fingers, an act that caused the twins to laugh.

�No, no!� said Elrohir, brushing her hand away from her head. �You�re battle-worn. That�s part of the Slayer appeal.�

�I look like a street urchin!� she grumbled in discontent.

�You look wonderful!� chimed in smiling Elladan.

�Pfft!� she sounded, rolling her eyes. �Elves,� she mumbled under her breath.

The trio climbed the steps leading to the columned porch that stretched before the front doors of the house. Miriel�s nervousness was rapidly reaching new heights. The doors were swung opened, and a long hallway ran from the front of the house all the way to the back. They followed that way, passing by a winding staircase and more Elves, who, like the others, stared at Miriel with widening eyes.

Not wanting to make eye contact with any, she kept her head hung low, missing out on the beauty of Elrond�s house. She was steered down another corridor to her left at the rear of the house. They went down that hall until they neared the end. She was stopped before a set of double doors to her right.

Elladan swung open one of the doors, and motioned for Miriel to enter. As she stepped into the room, Elrohir grabbed the boots from her hand. �Here! I�ll take those.�

The eldest son of Elrond then started to close the door, but the Slayer stopped him. �You�re not staying?� she queried anxiously, holding the edge of the door.

�No,� he answered. �We have to get Father.�

�We shan�t be long,� added his brother, giving the girl a reassuring smile. �Make yourself at home.�

The door then closed. Miriel turned around, surveying the chamber. She appeared to be in a study, Elrond�s she assumed. It was a fine room, most certainly befitting an Elf Lord. The afternoon sun spilled in through the tall arched windows that lined the western wall, providing the only light within the chamber. Along the northern wall were multiple sets of glass doors that opened onto a porch that overlooked the back garden. Nestled catty-cornered by the windows was an elaborately carved wooden desk covered with stacks of papers and a few books. To Miriel�s right, along the eastern wall, was a large fireplace with built-in bookshelves that covered the walls on either side, stretching from floor to ceiling. The shelves were crammed with books, rolls of parchment, and miniature statues that doubled as bookends.

A seating area was located nearest to the door, where Miriel stood. Two couches and fours chairs, all comfortable looking, were positioned around a coffee table; its legs carved in the shape of flowering trees. The walls were paneled in a very light colored wood, contrasting with the deep, rich colors of the fabric of the furniture, which were deep green, red and gold. Paintings adorned the walls not covered with shelving or windows - some of people, some of cities that Miriel did not recognize. The largest was a portrait that hung above the mantle of the fireplace, that of a woman with long, golden hair.

The Slayer found herself drawn to that portrait, in particular. She stepped further into the room, wringing her increasingly sweaty palms in nervous anticipation at her impending meeting with the Lord of Rivendell. She stopped before the painting, and stared at the woman, who almost seemed to be staring back at her. Miriel slowly moved her head from side to side, noticing that the woman�s eyes did indeed seem to follow her. She surmised that that must have been some form of elven magic. She had never seen anything like that before.

For several minutes Miriel stood there, somewhat spell-bound by the painting, especially those captivating grey eyes of the woman.

Then, from out of nowhere, she heard a man�s voice say, �That�s Celebr�an.�

The girl let out a startled gasp, spinning around toward the voice.

There stood Elrond, who had silently entered the room, catching Miriel off guard. He gave her a small smile before adding, �My wife.� He stood just inside the doorway, loosely clasping his hands before him.

Miriel was speechless, and looked upon the renowned Elf Lord with awe. His red tunic accentuated his long, dark, straight hair, which was draped over either shoulder, falling nearly to his waist. His tan breeches looked similar to her own, but of course, were neatly pressed and impeccably clean. Yet it was his eyes that she found bedazzling, hypnotic. They shone with a light, very different from his sons. She thought that strange until she remembered that this was the son of E�rendil.

The Elf Lord slowly crossed the room, approaching Miriel. �She has sailed West, long ago,� he continued, speaking solemnly of his wife.

There was air of sadness to Elrond�s voice, and that soft smile had momentarily left his face. Though he had said so little, what he had said, filled Miriel with sorrow. She wondered why Celebr�an had departed Middle-earth, leaving behind her husband and children. Didn�t those that sailed West depart together, as a family? There was no way she was about to question the Elf Lord on such a personal matter, and not knowing how to respond, she remained silent.

The warm smile returned to Elrond�s face. He stopped before the girl. His eyes did not inspect her as his kinsmen had done, but remained locked with hers. �Well met, Dagnir,� he then said in greeting.

Still at a loss for words, Miriel replied with a slight nod of her head, finding herself unable to break eye contact with the Elf Lord. She remained silent, transfixed, staring into the intense grey eyes of Elrond. It soon became abundantly clear that Elrond was utilizing his elven powers to search Miriel�s mind. Images of past events flashed in her mind, beginning with that meeting with Gandalf a few years back when he had suggested that she search the Slayer lore.

The girl began to panic when she realized what the Elf was doing. She feared that he would discover her deepest, darkest secrets, the ones that were at the root of her greatest humiliation. Of course, trying to hide those thoughts brought those images rushing to the surface for Elrond to see. Miriel�s unblinking eyes welled with tears, and her breathing came in rasps as if she were in some great contest of strength. She was mortified, feeling as though she stood naked before the Elf Lord, her mind betraying her, exposing every secret she had ever kept.

Miriel could feel the warmth of her tears trickling down her dirt-streaked cheeks, as she prayed for Elrond to stop his trespass on her mind.

When the Elf Lord had seen every degrading act the girl had been subjected to, he broke eye contact and took a step backward.

The Slayer immediately turned away from Elrond, burying her face in her hands, and wept over what had just transpired. No words could describe the humiliation she felt.

Elrond was greatly disturbed by all that he had seen. There was no doubting that this girl was indeed the Slayer, for even he could feel her power before entering the study. I t was the horrors that she had endured, the torments, that filled him with both sorrow and anger. To see that this girl, this mere child, had been abused repeatedly by those whom she trusted was unconscionable. He would never have expected such a thing from Denethor, and now had a better understanding why she had refused to acknowledge her parentage. The Steward of Gondor�s actions were deplorable, unforgiveable.

The Lord of Imladris needed a few moments to compose himself. He had not expected to see anything like that! He shifted his gaze to Miriel, who continued to sob into the palms of her hands. He glanced at the portrait of Celebr�an, thinking of his own wife�s past torments, and how she had been unable to find peace in Middle-earth afterwards. Would the same be true for the Slayer? It had not been so long ago that those heinous crimes had been committed against her. It had taken Celebr�an a year to admit that Elrond had failed to heal her wounds, wounds that ran far too deep to be healed outside the Blessed Realm.

Elrond looked back at the girl. How his heart ached for her. Fate had been so unkind to Miriel. Not only would she have to live with her past torments, but being a Slayer meant that her life would be short-lived. That made it all the more tragic.

He stepped closer to the crying girl, wanting to comfort her. He hesitated before placing his hands on her shoulders. He could feel her muscles tighten when he touched her.

�You�re safe, Miriel,� he said softly. �I promise no harm will come to you in my lands.�

The Slayer wasn�t sure if she could believe Elrond, for she couldn�t help but feel that he too had violated her, though in a different way. Perhaps the Lord of Imladris sensed this. He gently turned her around and pulled her hands from her face.

�I�m sorry,� he said, his fingers tenderly lifting her chin, so that they made eye contact. �I had to know, for my peoples� sake, whether your powers were bestowed upon you by the Lord of Mordor or the Lords of the West,� he explained. Both the tone of his voice and kindly eyes revealed his sincerity. �I can now say that you are not under his thrall.� He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed the tears on the girl�s face. In a firmer voice, Elrond added, �You�ve done nothing wrong. And your past is just that - in the past. We will speak no more of it. Your secrets will not be shared with anyone, if that is your will.�

Miriel could only nod. She stifled her tears, feeling a bit better after what Elrond had said. She hated the thought of not being able to trust the Elves. And, if what Elrond said was true, as she believed, how could she blame him for wanting to protect his people? Surely, it was not everyday one encountered a girl with powers such as hers, Elf or not.

The Lord of Imladris then poured her a small glass of wine to help ease her anxiety. Whatever kind of wine it was, it most certainly did make her feel better.

Only a few minutes later, there was a soft tapping on the door to the room. The door eased open and a young woman with long, dark hair entered, wearing a smile on her face.

�Oh, Arwen, your timing couldn�t be any better,� Elrond said, as the woman crossed the room with a gracefulness that Miriel could only envy. The Lord of Imladris then shifted his gaze to Miriel. �Miriel, this is my daughter Arwen.� He then looked at his daughter. �This is - �

�Dagnir,� she interjected, her eyes doing a quick survey of the girl. �You�re the talk of the entire house!�

�I think Miriel could do with a bath. Will you see to it that she is cleaned and garbed in more suitable clothing?�

�Of course, Father,� answered Arwen. The elleth took Miriel by the arm.

�You�re in good hands, Miriel,� reassured Elrond, as the two women started to leave.

Once again, Miriel could only nod, as Arwen led her out of the room.

�You and I look to be around the same size. Perhaps we�ll find something in my wardrobes for your to wear,� said Arwen, her eyes doing another quick sweep of Miriel�s frame. She steered the girl down the corridor. �I am stunned to be in the presence of a real Slayer. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, even for one of the Elder.�

There was an air of excitement in both her voice and demeanor, something that Miriel noticed immediately. She couldn�t believe an Elf would show so much interest in her - a mere mortal girl.

�Have you ever encountered false Slayers before?� asked Miriel, out of curiosity. She couldn�t help but notice that the elleth had used the term �real� before the word Slayer.

Arwen chortled. �No, I cannot say that I have. According to Erestor, he�s Father�s Chief Counsellor, Slayers identities are supposed to be kept secret.�

Miriel glanced around the hallway, noticing all the elvish faces keenly watching her. �Apparently, I have failed miserably in that department!�

The elleth eyed those lingering in the corridors. �Do not worry about those that dwell in Imladris. All here are honorable and trustworthy. Your secret�s safe, Miriel,� she added in a whisper, nodding her head.

Having Arwen as a companion was a nice change of pace for Miriel. It seemed as if it had been forever since she had last spoken with another female. The elleth continued to chit-chat with the girl, as they climbed the many steps of the winding stairway.

The Slayer was a little taken aback that she was brought to Arwen�s own rooms, and even more stunned to see that the tub in her bathroom was full of hot, steamy water and bubbles galore. An assortment of bath oils and soaps were at Miriel�s disposal.

Miriel blinked her eyes several times, thinking that this was some sort of illusion. She couldn�t even remember the last time she had had a hot bath.

�We knew you were coming,� remarked Arwen, watching Miriel, who looked nearly dumbstruck. �We heard that you had been in battle, and were in need of a good washing.�

Staring almost trance-like at the steam rising from the top of the bubbles, Miriel softly replied with, �Do not take the small things for granted, as I had, Arwen. Baths are truly a luxury, one that I dearly miss.�

�There is no reason to delay. It�s for you.� The woman motioned toward the tub.

The Slayer turned to the Elf, and smiled. �Thank you, Arwen.�

�You�re welcome.�

Miriel faced the tub, a smile returning to her face. Tossing modesty aside (Arwen was a woman after all!); the Slayer pulled her tunic up over her head. Before she could even remove the garment, she heard the elleth�s sharp intake of breath. When she pulled her top off, she glanced at Arwen. The woman�s eyes were wide, fixed on the scar on Miriel�s chest. Arwen�s hand shot to her mouth, which hung open in shock. The Slayer could see the blood rapidly draining from the young woman�s fair face.

�What?� queried the girl, having momentarily forgotten about the scar carved into her chest.

Arwen began to softly utter a prayer under her breath.

The Slayer then realized that the Elf woman was staring at the hideous Eye engraved in her flesh. She immediately covered the offensive mark with her filthy top, her cheeks turning bright red. Overwhelmed with both embarrassment and shame, she turned away from Arwen, fighting back the tears that were swiftly filling her eyes. How could she have forgotten such a thing? Would Arwen assume that she was an emissary of the Dark Lord? Or, even worse - would Miriel have to explain how the scar got there in the first place? That was something that she did not want to do.

�Oh, Miriel,� she heard Arwen whimper. �What happened to you?�

The Slayer brushed away the tears that had managed to escape her eyes. She took several deep breaths before turning toward the woman once again. She was surprised to see a teardrop rolling down Arwen�s cheek.

�What did they do to you?� she asked faintly, shaking her head in dismay.

�I don�t want to talk about it,� Miriel answered, not wanting to break down in front of the elleth as she had done in the presence of her father. �Please do not make me.�

Arwen had to pull herself together. She saw that her reaction was upsetting the Slayer. �I�m sorry.� The Elf was not wholly apologizing for her reaction, but more about what the girl had been through. Aragorn had mentioned to her his belief that Miriel had been held captive. And, there was no doubting that. But what troubled Arwen greatly were the torments that Miriel had obviously suffered at the hands of her captors. To have one�s body disfigured with the Eye of Sauron was beyond cruel. Arwen found herself wondering what other horrors to which this young child had been subjected.

�Don�t tell anyone,� Miriel pleaded, fearing that all of Rivendell would soon learn of her scar, as they had about her being the Slayer.

�I won�t,� answered Arwen, her eyes filled with pity. The daughter of Elrond would keep that promise, and not even tell her beloved Aragorn of the scar engraved on the girl�s chest.

Miriel then quickly finished undressing, and climbed into the tub. Arwen tried to change the subject, and talked of the various oils and soaps which she had laid out for the Slayer. Much to the relief of both women, the tension that had crept into the room soon passed.

Arwen pulled up a stool beside the tub, wanting to assist Miriel. When she washed the girl�s hair, she noticed how uneven the strands were. She offered to fix it when the Slayer had finished her bath. Miriel gladly accepted the elleth�s offer.

Between baths (Miriel took two to get clean), Arwen cut the Slayer�s hair so that it was more evenly shaped. As she carefully clipped away, she finally mentioned the ring dangling from the chain hanging from the Slayer�s neck.

�I could not help but notice the ring you wear around your neck,� mentioned Arwen, thinking that speaking of the ring was a perfectly acceptable topic of conversation. She stopped for a moment, shifting the comb into the same hand that held the scissors. She reached under the bodice of her gown and pulled out her own ring on a silver chain. Smiling, she said, �I have one too. A betrothal gift from the love of my life.�

�You�re betrothed?� queried Miriel. She was somewhat surprised, thinking that Arwen looked closer to her own age than she actually was. She had no idea that the elleth was over twenty-seven hundred years old.

�I have been for many years now,� she answered in a wistful voice. �Hopefully it won�t be much longer before Aragorn and I wed.�

�Aragorn?!� exclaimed Miriel in shocked disbelief. �You�re going to marry Aragorn?� The Slayer did not hide her disdain for the Ranger Chieftain, and actually began to question Arwen�s judgment at wanting to marry the son of Arathorn. Something had to be wrong with a woman that wanted to be with him!

Arwen smiled at Miriel�s response. Aragorn had told her that his first meeting with the Slayer hadn�t gone well. So the girl�s reaction was quite predictable. �He�s a good man, Miriel. I know that you and he got off on the wrong foot - �

� - He tried to kill me!� interjected the Slayer, still astounded that such an apparently lovely young woman would be attracted to the likes of Aragorn.

�He did not try to kill you,� replied Arwen, chuckling at the absurdity of the girl�s statement. �He was trying to protect you, to save you from the Orcs.� Her tone turned serious. �Things would�ve gone awry for you, Dagnir if he and his fellow rangers had not come along. You should thank him for that.�

Miriel couldn�t help but feel that Arwen was scolding her like a mother would a child. That was the first time that Arwen appeared older than Miriel. The elleth let the ring drop on the outside of the bodice of her dress. The Slayer could see its reflection in the mirror. She didn�t know how to respond to the woman�s comments.

�He�s wise beyond his years,� Arwen gushed, as she resumed trimming Miriel�s hair. �He�s very much like the Edain of old, his kin.� She looked into the mirror, meeting the girl�s gaze. �And yours too.�

The Slayer remained speechless, still too shocked by the news that Arwen wanted to marry Aragorn. That was going to take some time to process. However, Miriel felt it was best not to criticize Arwen�s lover in her presence. It was the elleth, after all, that was betrothed to him, not Miriel.

When Arwen finished trimming the Slayer�s hair, and the girl returned to the tub for a second time, the daughter of Elrond turned the topic of conversation to her first meeting with Aragorn, and their courtship, which had taken place many years earlier.

�... And he had thought that I was my forebear, and he called out to me,�Tin�viel! Tin�viel!�� Arwen�s voice was dream-like, and it seemed to Miriel that that meeting with Aragorn was the Elf�s fondest memory in her entire life. Not only that, but the more Arwen spoke of Aragorn, the less the Slayer detested him. She had no idea that that was Arwen�s intention from the get-go, to turn Miriel�s loathing toward the D�nadan to one of love and respect.

By the time the Slayer had finished bathing, and dried off, Arwen felt as if Miriel was a long lost friend in whom she could confide. As the Elf helped the girl back into her robe, she sadly added, �For so long I have been compared to my foremother. I�ve walked in her shadow. Yet, I�m not at all like her, save in appearance.�

�That�s not true,� contested the Slayer. Though, deep down, she didn�t believe that any woman could be compared to the likes of L�thien, at least none outside of Valinor. No other woman in the history of Middle-earth, Elf or otherwise, had ever accomplished such deeds of prowess and bravery than L�thien the Fair. For Eru�s sake - she confronted Morgoth Bauglir on his own turf! No other woman, or man for that matter, had the guts to do something such as that! No, there were none that even came close to matching the valiance of the daughter of Thingol.

Arwen knew that Miriel had voiced her protest out of the goodness of her heart, that her comments had no basis in reality. �I�ve accepted my lot in life,� concluded the daughter of Elrond. �I relish the thought of becoming Aragorn�s wife and queen one day. No greater gift can I give him, than an heir, and hopefully there will be many.�

Miriel cringed at the thought of having such a purpose in life. Hearing Arwen talk made her grateful to be the Slayer. At least she had a sacred duty to fulfill, which, in her opinion, was far better than dreaming of becoming a wife and mother! Perish the thought!

As they went into Arwen�s dressing room, the Elf continued to talk as somberly as before. �But, you, Miriel, are more like my forebear than any I�ve known.�

�I think the fumes from the perfume have gotten to you, Arwen,� replied the girl with a chuckle. �I�m not like any Elf, especially your foremother.�

The elleth shifted her gaze to the Slayer. �You have elvish blood in you - I can see that!�

�It�s so minute, it�s only detectable by the Elder,� remarked Miriel lightheartedly, attempting to dismiss Arwen�s comments.

�You�re strong, Miriel, stronger than you know,� she continued, sifting through her wardrobe for possible outfits for her new friend. �Love might have driven my forebear to do what she did, but that�s not wholly different from what you do. Do you not slay to protect those you love? Does that not motivate you to action? You will do great things. I see that. And should my time come, I will see to it that others never forget your deeds of valor.�

The Slayer�s head was spinning with thoughts unimaginable. While she was well aware that the Elder had the gift of foresight (even some mortals possessed such gifts), did Arwen actually foresee Miriel doing great things similar to those of L�thien? Would her name be remembered in the annals of history? Was it Miriel�s task to take down one as powerful as the Dark Lord himself? All these questions went racing through her mind, making the Slayer excited about what the future had in store for her. She was beginning to think that her luck was changing, and that, with the help of the Elves, she�d take out Middle-earth�s enemies one by one, gaining infamy along the way. However, she overlooked the fact that Arwen had said that she would see to it that people remembered her deeds of valor, that Miriel would not be relating the stories herself. For the elleth could see that the Slayer�s life would not only be a hard one, but would also be a short one...