Sad Wings of Destiny

Miriel reached the main gates of the city long before the entourage of Dol Amroth. That allowed her a chance to catch her breath and to make herself more presentable by smoothing out the wrinkles in her lavender gown. Since she and Bregolas had added the bow to their sessions, there was no need to garb herself in Faramir�s old castoffs. Her dress was just fine for archery practice.

As she waited for the train, she rubbed her long and aching fingers, wishing that archery would come more naturally. She was beginning to think that the bow was an unnecessary skill. From what she had read, (which was very little), a Slayer generally fights in hand-to-hand combat, not by stealth or at a distance. Perhaps it was not in her blood to learn the skill. Maybe that was why she was finding it so difficult to master.

She could feel the small calluses on her palm as she continued to rub the soreness from her joints. Bregolas had said that that was a sign of a �seasoned warrior� and showed his own calluses as proof. She thought he had said that to give her hope, for she had only sparred with him, and not with any real enemy.

�Will you be alright whilst I take these back?� queried Bregolas, having caught up with her at last. Both bows were slung over his shoulder and he carried a quiver of arrows.

�I think I shall be safe until your return,� she replied with a grin.

Bregolas glanced over his shoulder at the approaching cavalcade. Already, he could clearly hear the men singing in unison, a song of praise to Uinen, the Maia whom those in Dol Amroth had regarded highly since before the Fall of N�menor long ago.

A smile came to the man�s face, as he wiped the sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his shirt. He turned back to Miriel, watching her watch her kinfolk. �I�m glad that you�re smiling.� He glanced back at the group on horseback and added, �And even gladder that Lord Imrahil and his people sing instead of hum!�

Miriel went to smack him, but the warrior leapt out of the way, laughing.

�How very unladylike of you, Miriel! Lord Denethor would be appalled to know that his only daughter would behave in such a manner!� With his head, he motioned toward the train as he walked backward toward the main gates. �And I�m sure the Lord of Dol Amroth would not be pleased to see his sister�s daughter acting like some wild ruffian!�

�You better watch it, son of Halthor, or you will receive much more than a simple strike from me!� she shot back in the same mischievous tone.

The guards in the towers located on either side of the black gates watched the exchange taking place below. It pleased them to see one of their own courting the Steward�s daughter.

�Ah, one can only hope,� Bregolas chuckled, clutching at his heart dramatically. It brought him much joy to see Miriel�s spirits had improved. She had been grumpy for most of the day. �I will return as soon as I can, my fair Lady,� he added in a more dignified voice, bowing, before he turned and passed through the gates and up the street.

Miriel shook her head, still smiling. Nothing could�ve brightened her day more than the sight of Imrahil and his people. She loved to go to his castle on the coast, and was disappointed that she had not gone all year. She hoped that his arrival meant that she could depart with his company, and travel on his ship down the Anduin to the sea. That would definitely make her birthday the grandest in all memory.

One from the party broke away, galloping toward the city. As he neared, a familiar voice shouted, �Hail, Miriel!�

The young woman�s heart thumped madly in her chest. It was Elphir, her cousin, and eldest son of Imrahil. He was only a year older than she, and they were very close.

�Elphir!� she exclaimed in delight. �I cannot believe you have come too! Welcome, welcome!� she said, running up to greet him on his grey steed.

�Alas, I�m not the only son of Imrahil to come to Minas Tirith,� he grumbled with a scowl. He reined in his horse. �Both Erchirion and Amrothos have come too. I hope that doesn�t put a damper on your birthday.�

A beaming Miriel answered with, �Even little scamps are welcome in the White City, though I will have the guards check Amrothos� luggage for any snakes! It�ll be off to the dungeons with him if I should find another in my bed!�

Elphir laughed, then dismounted from his steed, and greeted Miriel with a proper hug. �I�ve missed you this spring. Why has Denethor not sent you?� he asked, after pulling out of their embrace.

Miriel shrugged in response.

The Prince quickly looked her over, searching for any obvious changes in her appearance since their parting nine months ago. To Elphir, she seemed to be in high spirits, and showed no outward signs of unhappiness. Yet, he could not rid his mind of the conversation that he had overheard between his father and mother several weeks earlier regarding Miriel.

Having no secrets between them, he asked, �Is it true what I hear?�

�Pray tell, what is that you hear?� she asked in a lighthearted tone.

�That you�ve been suffering from melancholy,� he replied, almost in a whisper.

A shadow seemed to fall over Miriel, and she quickly averted her gaze, looking at the stone road beneath her feet. �Who told you that?� she asked softly, her voice lacking the cheerful ring it had had only moments before.

The Prince knew his cousin well enough to see that the rumors were indeed true. He now felt horrible for even bringing up the subject. He placed a hand on her shoulder. �I should not have said anything - me and my big mouth,� Elphir said in remorse. �Let us speak no more of it, for I would not want to see you see sad, especially now.�

Miriel shifted her eyes back to her cousin. �I would like to know what you heard, Elphir,� she responded; now feeling perturbed that her mental state had been the topic of anyone�s conversation.

The clopping of the horses� hooves on the stone road became louder as the riders drew closer. Neither Miriel nor Elphir gave any notice. Their eyes remained locked, one�s on the other�s.

Elphir then started to speak in a hushed voice. �I overheard Father telling Mother - �

�Hail, Miriel!� interjected Imrahil from atop his steed, cutting off his eldest son�s sentence.

Using only his eyes, Elphir indicated to Miriel that he would tell her more later.

She, in turn, softened her expression, before turning her attention to her uncle. �Hail to you, Lord and Uncle,� she said with a curtsey. �On behalf of Denethor, son of Ecthelion, the Lord and Steward of Gondor, I welcome you back to the White City.� It was custom to greet mighty Lords in this fashion, whether they be kin or not.

Smiling, Imrahil slid off his horse and approached Miriel. �Look at you!� he began. �You look more like Finduilas than the last time I saw you.�

�Say not Finduilas!� she rebuked. �But, Miriel, daughter of Finduilas. I am my own person and not her at all.�

Her response troubled the Prince and the smile faded from his face.

Shame overcame Miriel for speaking her thoughts aloud. She wished she could take them back, as she knew that her uncle meant no harm by his words. She looked down at her feet, feeling miserable.

�Forgive me, Lord, for speaking so rashly,� she apologized, a pinkish hue coming to her cheeks as she spoke.

Imrahil gently lifted her chin, forcing Miriel to meet his gaze. �I do not look upon those that speak truly with condemnation. And I did not think that you would take offense of me comparing you to the sister that I dearly loved.�

Miriel tried to reply, but her uncle placed his finger to her lips, stilling her words.

�You are as lovely as she was - and no higher compliment can I give. Yet, dark dreams have plagued my sleep these past weeks, and, to me, it seems as though a shadow has fallen on the House of Denethor.� He paused, the smile returning to his handsome and proud face. �It is my hope that your father will allow you to accompany us back to our home so that you may spend time with your mother�s kin.�

�I would like that very much,� replied Miriel excitedly. �Thank you, Uncle,� she added, wrapping her arms around her mother�s brother.

Imrahil held Miriel in his arms, resting his cheek on her head. It seemed to him that Faramir�s words rang true - that there was something deeply troubling his niece. His greatest fear was that Miriel was too much like Finduilas and that this new sorrow that had befallen his niece (which he could clearly see in her eyes) would begin to diminish the years of her life, as it had his sister.

Finduilas� kin in Dol Amroth had seen her life begin to wane after she moved to Minas Tirith. Those closest to the late Princess debated whether it was her longing for the sea or her living in terror and fear in the shadows of Mordor that had brought about her early demise. Imrahil and his father believed it was both, and despaired at the thought of the same thing happening to Miriel.

The wain carrying the luggage of the visitors then slowly rolled by. Sitting at the back of the cart, with their feet dangling over the edge sat Imrahil�s two youngest sons.

�Miriel! Miriel!� shouted Amrothos in excitement.

The young woman faced her youngest nephew; her eyes stopping on the creature clutched in his hands.

�Do you like my new pet?� he asked, proudly displaying his turtle.

�Oh, Amrothos,� she chuckled, �why is it that you always take critters from the wilderness to make as pets? Why not choose a dog or cat as a companion?�

The youngster frowned. �Why would I want some furry beast when I can have a turtle? He is a warrior after all. See!� He stretched out his arms, thrusting the creature toward her. �He even comes with his own armor. Wisest of all critters in the wild is he, for no other animal has such a built in defense!�

�There is the porcupine,� suggested Erchirion. �His quills protect him from his enemies.�

Amrothos narrowed his eyes at his older brother. �But the turtle can withdraw into his shell - �

� - And the shell can be broken,� disputed Erchirion.

�And so can quills!� argued Amrothos.

The two boys then began to quarrel over which beast survived best in the wilds of the world, as the wain carrying them rolled through the main gates of the city.

�Will you ride with me, Miriel?� asked Imrahil, gesturing toward his steed. �Or would you prefer to join your cousins on the wain?�

Miriel eyed the boys. They were now shoving each other, as boys do. She was happy to see that her young nephews had come too. To her, the Halls of Denethor seemed empty and devoid of cheer. What better way to bring life to the old stone walls of the King�s House than to fill them with a couple of merry mischief-makers. The young woman smiled, shaking her head.

�I think I�d rather ride with you, Uncle.�

�Very well,� he answered, helping her onto his horse. He then climbed on behind her, and they took off, passing through the gates of the city.



The afternoon was a joyous one, though it did seem to pass by swiftly. No one spoke openly of Miriel�s well-being, at least, not while in her presence. Her spirits soared even higher when Faramir returned before supper, safe and unharmed from whatever mission Denethor had sent him and the Rangers on. Boromir and his company would arrive some time after midnight.

Later that night, Miriel and Elphir sequestered themselves in her chambers and talked until the sun rose the following morning. He questioned her much about the happenings in Minas Tirith and brought tidings from Dol Amroth.

�Grandfather says his days are waning,� he revealed. �He knows he will not be around much longer. He sent a letter with Father, asking that you return to Dol Amroth with us. For some reason, you were always his favorite,� he added with a roll of his eyes.

Miriel pushed her cousin. He fell backwards onto the pile of pillows on her bed.

�Your problem is that you take for granted having Adrahil with you all the time,� remarked the young woman. �I have no other grandfather. Ecthelion has been dead for many years now. I love hearing Adrahil�s stories of old.�

�Pfft!� replied Elphir. �How many times am I to hear about the battle with the Wainriders? I think I know the tale by heart!�

�Grandfather fought valiantly in that war! And you should know every detail. One day, Elphir, you shall become the ruler of Dol Amroth. It would do you good to know about the history of your people, particularly your own kin!�

�You�re right, as usual,� he groaned, sitting upright once again. �I do hope Denethor lets you come back with us.� A thoughtful expression came to his face. After a long pause, Elphir said, �I have to ask - maybe it�s just me - but does Denethor seem grimmer than usual?�

Miriel grabbed a pillow and clutched it to her chest. �Yes, he does,� she answered, nodding.

�So what do you think is the cause behind this change in the Lord of Gondor?� he queried, attentively watching his cousin.

�I think� I think it�s the Dark Lord.�

�WHAT?� exclaimed the young man, his grey eyes wide with horror.

�Shh!� she hissed. �You�ll wake the entire household!�

With his mouth agape, Elphir waited anxiously for Miriel to elaborate on her comments.

Miriel then spoke so softly, as if she feared the walls of the room would overhear her, that Elphir had to lean forward so that he did not miss a single word that she said.

�Father has been using the palant�r, the one in the tower,� she disclosed.

�So, what of it?� he replied, expecting to hear something far greater than that.

She scowled, narrowing her eyes at her cousin�s ignorance. �I wish you would take the time to learn the lore of Gondor,� she scoffed. �The palant�r in the Tower of Ecthelion is most closely aligned with that of Minas Ithil - �

� - You mean Minas Morgul,� interjected Elphir knowingly.

�At least you have enough sense to know that!� she answered, rolling her eyes.

Miriel assumed that she didn�t need to say any more, that Elphir could figure out where she was going. Unfortunately, he continued to stare at her, waiting for to expand upon her previous comment.

�Who do you think is in possession of the seeing-stone of Minas Morgul?� she asked. Without allowing him any time to respond, she went on. �Sauron. Sauron has it. Father, in his infinite wisdom, thinks that he can use the stone to thwart the Dark Lord. His arrogance is astounding!� she declared scornfully. �How can a mere mortal contest the will of Sauron? It is folly.� She shook her head. �By using the palant�r, Father has invited Sauron to see things here, to see Denethor�s own thoughts and deepest desires.� She paused. A look of dismay came to her face. �The Dark Lord is using the palant�r for his own evil purposes, and, I�m afraid, with much success.�

Elphir�s jaw dropped. He quickly snapped it shut and frantically asked, �How do you know this? Have you foreseen it?�

�I�ve witnessed the changes in Father firsthand,� she answered gloomily.

�What kind of changes?� His interest piqued by all that he was hearing.

�Changes for the worse,� she whispered.

Elphir grew afraid. From the sound of it, the Dark Lord was able to perceive all the happenings in Minas Tirith, or worse, all of Gondor. He shuddered at such a dreadful thought.

�Doe anyone know this? Has any counseled Denethor against using the seeing-stone of Elendil?� he queried in alarm.

�Who would dare challenge the wisdom of the Lord of Gondor?� she replied with a snicker. �He may not be the King, but he wields the same power nonetheless. Nobody is foolish enough to speak their true mind, not even Boromir.�

�Perhaps if I spoke to Father, he could talk some sense into Denethor,� suggested a hopeful Elphir.

�You�re missing the point, cousin. Father trusts only in his own wisdom, no one else�s. His pride will not let him,� she answered with a sigh.

Both fell quiet, lost in thought. Elphir sank back into the pillows, staring at the ceiling, while Miriel continued to hold the pillow to her chest staring blankly at the wall. The room was turning dull grey, a sign that morning had arrived. Already, they could hear the household stirring awake.

After a long while, Elphir asked in dismay, �Is there naught we can do?�

�I do not know,� she answered with a solemn shake of her head.

The distressed Prince scrutinized Miriel with his sharp eyes. It seemed to him that he was able to glimpse his cousin�s mind. �These changes, these changes that have overcome Denethor - does this have something to do with� with your bouts of melancholy?�

Miriel shifted her gaze to the window. She cursed herself for letting her guard down, and swore that she would not do so again. �That reminds me, you never told me what you overheard back in Dol Amroth,� she said, avoiding his question altogether.

Elphir then went on to explain that Imrahil was concerned over a letter he had received from Faramir, informing the Lord of Dol Amroth that Miriel was experiencing bouts of depression.

The young woman didn�t hear anymore than that. She became consumed with her own thoughts. Miriel could forgive Faramir for writing to Imrahil, knowing that his heart was in the right place. Her older brother had attempted, numerous times, to get to the bottom of her emotional turmoil. But whenever Miriel suffered through those bouts of melancholy, she didn�t want to talk to any, not even Bregolas. Some things cut too deeply to share with others.

�Miriel? Miriel?� said Elphir, nudging her with his foot. �You alright?�

The young woman shook herself out of her thoughts. �I�m fine,� she said, giving him a reassuring smile.

�You�re hiding something from me. I can tell. What is it? You know that you can trust me.�

Miriel continued to stare at her cousin, but made no reply.

�Come on, Miriel,� he pleaded. �There should be no secrets between us!�

�Some secrets are perilous and cannot be shared with any,� she answered.

The first bell then rang, much to the young woman�s relief. �Seven o�clock,� Miriel announced, clambering out of bed. �I don�t know about you, but I�m famished.� She stretched her weary limbs, as Elphir continued to watch her closely. �Come on, cousin,� she continued, more upbeat than before. �Let�s get some breakfast.�

Unfortunately for Elphir, he would never get the opportunity to speak with Miriel about her secret again. He would, however, seek Imrahil later that day and tell him of his concern about Denethor�s use of the palant�r.



With the newly arrived guests, all meals would be hosted in Merethrond. Much to Miriel�s delight, neatly wrapped packages were already stacked on tables along one of the walls of the chamber in anticipation of her birthday celebration, which was now only one day away. The excitement of the impending festivities vanquished all signs of weariness.

Breakfast proved to be a happy occasion as nearly all of the family was assembled together, which was a rare feat in itself. The leisurely meal allowed those in Minas Tirith the opportunity to speak at length with those of Dol Amroth.

After she had finished eating, Miriel slipped out of the Hall of Feasts with Bregolas, eager to resume their daily exercises.

�I would�ve thought that you�d want to spend time with your mother�s kin,� the warrior said, surprised by her eagerness to practice.

�They will remain here a while yet,� she answered, as they descended the stairs that separated the seventh level of the city from the sixth. �Besides, a Slayer should hone her skills as much as possible. One never knows when one will have need of them.�

Bregolas smiled. �Shall we resume with the bow then?�

Miriel wrinkled her face in disgust. �I�d rather not,� she answered, scowling. �My patience for the bow has reached its end, I�m afraid. I am in no mood to face my inadequacies� �

�You will gain the mastery of archery if you continue to practice. One cannot expect to learn a new skill in only a few days time,� countered Bregolas.

�Yet somehow I�ve managed to do just that with the blade,� she replied, glancing at the warrior with a grin. �Today, I would rather devote our time to practicing defensive techniques. I deem that it is more important than the bow.�

Bregolas let out a hearty laugh. The sound seemed to bounce from stone wall to stone wall. �Perhaps you yearn for the touch of the son of Halthor,� he laughed.

�Oh, yes, that�s it,� she shot back sarcastically. �No greater pleasure will I have than trouncing you, yet again! It does this maiden proud to accomplish such a feat!�

�We shall see, Miriel. We shall see,� chortled the warrior.

When they reached Bregolas� home, Miriel quickly retreated to his bedchamber where she changed into more suitable garments. In the other room, she could hear the warrior moving the furniture so that they would have more space to practice.

Bregolas decided that they�d first work on disarming techniques, something Miriel always enjoyed. It amazed her to see how much her body was changing, how she was able to move her limbs speedily and with great ease. With no trouble at all, she was able to kick the makeshift dagger from her foe�s hand, sending it flying across the room like a projectile and into the wall. (Whenever they practiced up close like that, they used weapons forged of wood instead of metal in order to lessen the risk of injury.)

The warrior tried many different variations of attack, including jumping Miriel from behind. He wrapped an arm around her throat in an attempt to choke her, as the wooden dagger in his other hand prepared to deliver the fatal blow. Instinctively, she latched onto his arm, and flung him over her shoulder and onto the hardwood floor.

Bregolas groaned at having the wind knocked out of him.

Miriel squatted over him, his wooden dagger now in her hand, the tip resting on his throat. �Checkmate, again, my friend,� she said, panting. Strands of her long dark hair escaped her braid and hung down, tickling the warrior�s face.

�We�ll just see about that,� he said between breaths, before thrusting his body upward and to the side, knocking her off balance, and onto the floor.

Swiftly, Bregolas grabbed her, forcing her onto her back. The dagger fell from her grasp, as he straddled her, pinning her arms over her head.

�I have thwarted your victory, my dear Lady,� he announced with glee. �It looks as if you spoke too soon, and that I have triumphed over you.�

Miriel didn�t respond, but tried to catch her breath. Though some of her hair fell over her eyes, she kept them locked on her foe, waiting for the opportune moment to make her move.

A gloating Bregolas maintained his posture, staring at the young woman trapped beneath him. Wanting to move the wisps of her hair clung to the dampened skin of her face, he pulled her wrists closer together. One of his hands released her, yet the other quickly seized hold of both of her arms, keeping her restrained. He leaned closer, his fingers pulling the locks from her eyes when, suddenly, she lunged her head forward, striking his skull with her own, and causing them both to see stars for a few moments.

Miriel then pulled one of her long legs in front Bregolas and pushed him backwards.

The warrior snatched the weapon from the floor, as he stumbled back.

In one fluid motion, the young woman was able to leap to her feet. She assumed her fighting stance, both fists clenched in anticipation of Bregolas� counter strike.

The warrior�s head was still smarting, as he scrambled to his feet, and for one fleeting moment, he forgot where he was. Memories of fighting Orcs came rushing to his mind. Snarling like some rabid beast, he plunged the wooden dagger at Miriel, using the same force he would use on any minion of Sauron.

The woman�s body bent back in a perfect arc, the top of her head grazing the floor. Her eyes remained locked on the blade as it made its descent. In a blur of motion, her hands came together, clamping the wooden knife, only inches from her face.

Everything seemed to be moving so slowly, yet so quickly.

A look of horror replaced the beastly expression on Bregolas� face. He couldn�t believe that he had attacked Miriel with such force. Yet those thoughts quickly left him, as one of her hands slid up his forearm while the other maintained control of his weapon. The young woman then used Bregolas� momentum against him, flinging his entire body through the air into a perfect body slam.

Though stunned, and between gasps, he kept repeating, �I�m sorry. I�m so sorry.�

Miriel didn�t understand why he felt that way. She felt exhilarated, powerful. She stood over his body, her bosoms heaving from the adrenaline rush. She then placed her foot on his chest, held aloft the dagger, and proudly boasted, �Victory is mine!�

Anguish still plagued the warrior, for if he had struck her, he could�ve killed her with that blow. That seemed something Miriel had not grasped. �I could�ve hurt you,� he panted.

�But you didn�t,� she answered, offering him her hand.

Bregolas took it, as she pulled him to his feet.

�I could�ve hurt you, or worse,� he said regretfully.

Miriel wasn�t about to let him put a damper on her moment of triumph. �Did you not see what I did there?!� she exclaimed. �My body is doing things that it never has before. The more you push me, the stronger I become.� She placed her hand kindly on his flushed cheek. She could feel the heat emanating from his bristly skin, which was sticky with sweat. �Never apologize for pushing the limits. How else will we know what I am capable of if I am not properly tested?�

Before Bregolas could answer there was a knock at the door.

Both he and Miriel drew a deep breath, neither expecting any visitors.

�Quick! Into my bedchamber!� he ordered in a whisper.

She didn�t need telling twice. The young woman flew into the room, quietly closing the door behind her. She then pressed her ear to the door, listening intently.

Bregolas took several deep breaths in an attempt to steady his breathing. He kicked the wooden dagger. It slid across the floor and under the sofa.

The banging continued. �Bregolas! I know you�re in there!� shouted Boromir. �Open up.�

�One moment, Boromir!� answered the warrior, speaking loudly so that Miriel could hear him.

Miriel winced when she heard that her brother was outside the front door. Immediately, she began to disrobe, eager to change back into her �normal� clothing before Boromir could discover her secret.

�Come on, Bregolas!� the eldest son of Denethor continued to shout, none too pleased to be kept waiting. �If you do not open this door, I shall break it down!� he threatened.

Much to Bregolas� dismay, he did not have enough time to steady his breathing. He cursed under his breath as he strode across the room and cracked opened the door.

�Good afternoon, Boromir.� He attempted to sound welcoming with his greeting, but failed miserably.

Boromir eyed Bregolas with suspicion. His old friend seemed quite distracted. And the sweat on his face and heavy breathing did not go unnoticed. The Heir of Gondor placed his hand on the door. His left foot darted forward into the small opening in case Bregolas attempted to slam the door shut.

�Is that any way to welcome a friend?� asked Boromir, pushing on the door.

Bregolas kept his body firmly behind the wooden panel, preventing it from opening further.

�One would think you�re hiding something,� concluded the Captain-general of Gondor, trying to peer beyond the warrior�s frame and into the room.

�I�m� I�m quite busy at the moment, Boromir. If you return a bit later, you�ll find your visit more welcomed,� said Bregolas, struggling against the weight on the door.

�I�m afraid I cannot do that,� he replied. �You see, I was told that my sister is here. My little sister. My sixteen year old sister.� Boromir narrowed his eyes. �Now, tell me, Bregolas: what could you possibly be doing with my little, sixteen year old sister that warrants your shutting me out?�

Bregolas didn�t know what to say. He stammered, making a series of sounds but no words.

�If you do not open this door right now, I will tear it from its hinges,� hissed Boromir.

By the glint in Boromir�s eyes, Bregolas knew he was speaking the truth. He only hoped that he had stalled the Steward�s son enough so that Miriel would be prepared for a confrontation with her brother. Bregolas stepped back, opening the door wider.

Boromir crossed the threshold, his eyes keenly scanning the room, as the front door closed with a click. �Hmm, such a lovely summer day yet all the windows are closed and the curtains are drawn,� he mused under his breath.

Bregolas tried to think of some quick reply. All he could come up with was, �I�m trying to keep the house cool.�

�Is that so?� Boromir cast a suspicious glance at his friend, who now appeared to be sweating profusely. He then turned his gaze to the bedroom door. �And what will I find behind that door?� he asked, pointing to the door in question.

Bregolas didn�t answer.

Boromir hastily crossed the chamber and flung the door open.

Miriel had just put her gown on. The fabric had reached the back of her knees when her brother burst in.

�Miriel!� exclaimed Boromir. �What in the name of the Valar are you doing?�

The young woman spun around, her alarmed eyes darting from her brother to Bregolas, who stood several feet behind Boromir. Adjusting the bodice of her dress, she answered with a firm, �None of your business!�

Enraged, the Heir of Gondor turned, facing his sister�s protector. �You�ve defiled my sister.� He clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

�It�s� it�s not what you think,� stammered Bregolas, dreading the fact that he found himself in such a predicament.

What happened next, happened so fast that neither Bregolas or Miriel could stop Boromir. The Captain-general stomped forward, swung his fist, and stuck Bregolas on the jaw.

�Boromir!� shrieked Miriel, running from the bedroom. She grabbed hold of Boromir�s arm and jerked him away from her friend. �Stop it! Leave him alone!� she cried out, standing protectively in front of Bregolas.

�I will kill him!� yelled Boromir, eager to get another shot in at the warrior.

�You will not!� Miriel spat defiantly, narrowing her steely grey eyes on her brother. She knew she had to think of something quick in order to diffuse the situation.

�He stole your virtue, Miriel!� barked Boromir angrily. �And for that he should die.�

�So what if he did,� she snapped in reply.

�Miriel,� hissed Bregolas anxiously in her ear. �You�re not helping matters.�

Boromir looked incredulously at his sister.

�It�s my body, and I can do with it as I like,� she proclaimed. She sneered at her brother. �How is my bedding of Bregolas any different than you, eh? How many women has the mighty Boromir invited into his bed?�

Her comments left Boromir momentarily shocked. He then answered with, �I am a man, and a man has needs - �

�And so is Bregolas!� she interjected. �He has needs too.�

�Not� with� my� sister,� he snarled, enunciating each word slowly.

Poor Bregolas. He was horrified at the prospect of Boromir thinking that he had deflowered Miriel. He wished that she would just tell her brother the truth, a far better option, he concluded than this yarn she had chosen to spin. His throbbing jaw could attest to that!

�Miriel,� Bregolas chimed in, at last. �No good will come from this. Tell Boromir the truth.� He looked pleadingly at her, rubbing the soreness of his jaw.

�You�re lying to me,� remarked Boromir, his eyes widened in disbelief. It was so against the nature of a Gondorian to lie and it both hurt and angered the Captain-general to think that anyone would lie to his face, especially his sister.

The young woman gave Bregolas a look of warning. She then faced her brother, as she linked her arm with the warrior�s. �Alright, then,� she began. �If you must know, Bregolas and I are going to marry. I am going to be his wife.�

Bregolas slowly turned his head, looking down at Miriel with his brows raised in surprise.

Boromir, on the other hand, remained leery of his sister�s pronouncement. �Why have I not heard of this?� He fixed his gaze on Bregolas. �Have you asked the Steward�s permission, as is custom with any honorable man?�

�Well, um, er,� stammered Bregolas, glancing at Miriel once again.

Her eyes spoke volumes though her face remained expressionless. If he didn�t play along with her charade, he�d have to contend with the wrath of the Slayer, something he was loath to do. However, if he did play along, then he�d have to face the ire of the Steward of Gondor, something that filled him with dread.

As Bregolas struggled with the internal debate taking place in his mind, a frustrated Miriel decided to take matters into her own hands.

�We were waiting until tomorrow,� she answered. Snuggling her companion, she added, �What better gift can I receive on my birthday than Father�s approval of our betrothal?� She looked adoringly at Bregolas, her smile widening. �Isn�t that right, sweetheart?�

Miriel is going to be the death of me, thought the warrior. He then smiled, wrapped his arm around Miriel�s waist, and answered with, �Yes, my darling.�

For a few long moments, Boromir stood there, staring at the two. Perhaps hearing about their betrothal lessened the offense of Bregolas� taking of his sister�s virtue. None can truly say, but a smile did come to the Heir of Gondor�s face and he patted the warrior on the shoulder.

�This is good news, I deem,� he proclaimed happily. �I will accompany you, Bregolas, when you speak to our father, for I would like to be a part of this joyful moment.�

�Good,� answered the warrior, grasping Boromir by the shoulder. �I would like nothing better, my friend, then to have you standing at my side on our wedding day.�

�I would be honored.� Surprisingly, Boromir then excused himself, and departed the warrior�s house.

As soon as the door closed, Bregolas plopped down on the couch, sank backwards into the cushions and let out a sigh of relief.

�See, disaster averted,� said a cheerful Miriel, taking a seat beside her friend.

�And just how far are you willing to take this farce, Miriel?� asked Bregolas, running his fingers through his hair.

�As far as we must,� she replied resolutely.

The warrior raised a skeptical eyebrow.

�If we must fill the Citadel with children, then so be it. No one must ever find out that I�m the Slayer.�

Bregolas groaned, as he slowly rubbed his face. �I have a bad feeling about this. My heart tells me that you�ll be the death of me, Miriel.�

She chortled. Placing a hand on his thigh she answered, �Then you will die a happy man.�

The warrior peeked through his fingers. �You think so?� he queried with a mischievous glint in his eye.

�I know so.�

Though Miriel did not love Bregolas in a husbandly way, she thought that, perhaps, over time, she would grow to love him. They did get along rather splendidly, and wasn�t that half the battle? Her thoughts turned to their actually marrying, and what life would be like. Maybe, as his wife, they could move out of Minas Tirith to elsewhere in the kingdom, maybe Lebennin. Out from under the watchful eye of Denethor, she would be able to secretly hunt the enemy on Gondor�s borders, doing what she could to help protect her people. The more she thought about it, the more she liked the idea.

Too bad things never go as planned, as Miriel would learn soon enough...