Sad Wings of Destiny

Though Miriel had bathed and was now dressed in clean clothing, she had no desire to join the rest of the household at supper time. After being on her own for so long, she was not yet ready to deal with so many people watching her every move. It made her self-conscious and nervous. Instead, she remained in the room that had been assigned to her. While it was by no means anything like the elaborate rooms of Arwen, it was comfortable, and overlooked the back garden.

When the bells rang out at meal time, the twin sons of Elrond brought dinner to her, and much to her delight, both stayed and ate with her. The food was to die for, seasoned and cooked to perfection, unlike the fare that Miriel had cooked for herself, which she tended to overcook. And there was meat � delicious, savory meat! To her, it was the best meal she had had in her entire life.

With her belly full, the Slayer became drowsy. The twins had wanted to take her on a tour of Imladris, but she turned them down. She wanted to wait a few days until talk of her died down some before exploring the house and grounds. At that moment, all she wanted to do was to crawl into the bed that beckoned to her with its soft, feathered pillows and clean linens.

Both Elladan and Elrohir had bid her goodnight, but promised to return in the morning.

Arwen had been generous enough to loan Miriel some additional garments to wear until the Slayer�s own clothes were finished being washed and mended. She changed into a nightgown before sliding under the covers of the bed. For the first time in a long while, Miriel felt completely safe. Not long after closing her eyes, she drifted off, and entered the dreamscape...



She was somewhat surprised to find herself standing on the bank along the Anduin. It seemed like it had been a long time since she was last here in her dreams. She stood amidst the trees, watching Buffy standing on the shore, skimming stones on the waters surface. Things had not been so good between the two Slayers, not since Miriel�s blow up days earlier. Since then, each young woman avoided the other, too stubborn and proud to put an end to the rift that had divided them.

Though Miriel didn�t feel that she was wholly to blame, she thought the time had arrived to put an end to this nonsense once and for all. She stomped loudly down the embankment, hoping that Buffy would hear her footfalls. She then climbed atop a large rounded boulder situated by the shoreline. Though she had made ample noise, her mentor did not acknowledge her presence.

�You�re still mad at me, aren�t you?� she asked, breaking the silence between them.

�What ever gave you that idea?� replied Buffy, her tone as cold as the peaks of the Misty Mountains.

�I�ve come to make peace and... and to say I�m sorry, for the other day,� Miriel grudgingly said. �I was out of line.� She took a deep breath. �I�m sorry.�

Buffy tossed the last stone in her hand. It skipped along the waters surface four times before sinking, leaving ripples in its wake. Wiping her hands on the legs of her leather pants, she turned around and looked up at Miriel, sitting on the boulder. Shielding her eyes from the sun, she said, �That wasn�t so hard now, was it?� She had been waiting for said apology for days now.

�No,� answered Miriel dismally.

Buffy�s shoes crunched along the pebbly shore as she made her way over to Miriel.

Here it comes, thought the young Slayer. She could see by the stern look on her mentor�s face that she was about to be lectured. Bite your tongue, Miriel. It�ll be over before you know it.

The elder Slayer then climbed up onto the boulder and sat beside Miriel. She remained quiet for a few minutes, collecting her thoughts. �I know things have been rough for you,� Buffy began, wanting to choose her words carefully. �I know you�ve been through a lot.�

Miriel felt the need to interject her thoughts, but when she took a breath to speak, her mentor raised her hand, saying, �Not now. Let me finish.�

Buffy�s gaze remained fixed on the river. She pulled her knees to her chest and loosely wrapped her arms around them, one hand clutching the other wrist. �I�ve put up with your bullshit for some time now,� she continued, speaking coolly. �I�ve tried to let things go, but I can�t take it any more.� She turned her hazel eyes to her prot�g�. �I�m sick and tired of being your punching bag. I�m sick and tired of taking your crap. I�m not the enemy here, but you treat me as if I am. I�m trying to help you. I�m trying to make you a better Slayer, but instead, you shit on me, over and over and over again. I can�t take it any more, Miriel. It�s gotta stop.� She shook her head. With a heavy sigh, she turned her eyes back to the Anduin.

�I don�t mean to be that way,� Miriel said softly. �I don�t mean to take my hostilities out on you.�

�But you have been!� snapped Buffy, her narrowed eyes returning to the girl.

The young Slayer felt horrible for the way she had been treating her mentor. She really didn�t mean to be so volatile. �I�m sorry. Is there any way I can make it up to you?�

�Yeah, just stop doing it,� the elder Slayer retorted, shifting her eyes back to the river.

For a long while they sat in silence, both staring at the current as it swiftly passed by. Despite Miriel�s apology, tension continued to linger between the two. The young girl racked her brain, desperate to find a way to lighten the mood. Her eyes lit up when an idea occurred to her.

�Did you hear that the Elves thought Buffy was the name of my sword?� she asked, an impish grin on her face.

Buffy replied with a combination of a snicker-snort. �Yeah, I heard.� She rolled her eyes. After a brief pause, she asked, �So, is Riverdale what you thought it�d be?�

�Rivendell,� Miriel corrected. �It�s called Rivendell.�

Once again, the elder Slayer rolled her eyes, but waited for the girl to reply.

�It�s not at all as I thought it would be,� she answered. �I mean, I thought Rivendell was a city � a real city, like Minas Tirith.� She shifted her gaze to her mentor. �Do you not find it strange that all the Elves live in one, big house? Do people live that way in your world?�

�No, not really,� replied Buffy thoughtfully. �I guess the closest thing would be prisons, which houses criminals. They do call it �The Big House�. And then there�s the hippie types that are into that whole communal living thing. But that kinda died out in the 70�s, I think.�

�Hmm,� sounded Miriel, falling quiet.

Buffy studied the girl, who seemed to be consumed by her thoughts. She figured that her prot�g� would be quite eager to talk of the Elves and their realm. It had been a life-long dream of hers. She leaned back, using her arms to support her, as she let her legs hang over the boulder. �The Elves seem really taken with you. You�re a living legend to them!�

�Pfft,� replied the girl with a roll of her eyes. �I�m no legend.�

�Of course you are,� said Buffy. �You�re the Slayer! Even the Elves see the significance of that.� The elder Slayer chortled under her breath. �Enjoy it while you can, Miriel, because outside of River... er, Rivendell, you need to keep your identity secret.�

�It�s a little too late for that, don�t you think,� responded the girl, feeling as though everyone knew who she really was.

�I think those that have an inkling of who you are, who you really are, are dead. That�s the way you need to keep it.�

�The old hag knows,� said Miriel, her eyes shifting to the stream. �And she�s still out there, somewhere.�

�Yeah, and when you guys meet again, you�re gonna kick her old, wrinkly ass!�

Miriel glanced at Buffy. �You really think so?� she asked hopefully.

�I know so,� answered the elder Slayer confidently. �If you�re up to it, we can do some training. A Slayer can never train too much.�

�Alright,� answered Miriel.

While the two Slayers began to spar in the dreamscape, in the waking world, Elrond had summoned a few select members of his household to his study for an informal meeting concerning Miriel. Both of his sons were in attendance, as were Aragorn and Halbarad, since, by all rights, those from the Northern Kingdom wielded the power of the Slayer. He had also asked Erestor and Glorfindel to be present, deciding that those two Elves could assist Miriel until Elrond deemed that she would be ready to return to the wilds of Eriador with the Rangers.

Since Erestor and Glorfindel didn�t have the back story on how the Rangers had first met the Slayer, Elrond asked that Aragorn inform them about what had transpired on Amon S�l. He explained how he and his men were drawn to Weathertop by the howls of many wargs, and that when they reached the mound, they found the Slayer, alone, battling numerous Orcs and wolves. He relayed all the events that had happened until he was forced to leave the party on the road due to Miriel�s distrust of him. From there, Elladan and Elrohir picked up the story, telling of their journey to Rivendell, accompanied by the Slayer.

Once they had finished recounting their tale, Elrond then spoke briefly of his own encounter with the Slayer, making a point to be deliberately vague.

�You have not said much, Elrond,� commented Erestor, noticing that his lord had not divulged much information about his initial meeting with the Slayer. �Did you not use your gifts to find out about the girl? Is she indeed the daughter of the Steward of Gondor? Is she truly the Slayer, or a spy of the Dark Lord, sent to Imladris to make mischief?�

�I can assure you, my friend,� started the Lord of Rivendell, �that Miriel is no servant of Sauron, and that she is indeed the daughter of Denethor.� He shifted his grey eyes to Halbarad. �I can say without question that she is truly the Chosen One, that her powers were bestowed upon her by those in the West.�

�I knew it!� exclaimed Halbarad, excited that his gut feelings had been confirmed by the mighty Elf Lord. �I could tell that she was the Slayer the moment I saw her fight. No mere maiden has such skill to fend off so many goblins!�

�That was not her first clash with Orcs,� revealed Elrond, �This Slayer has seen combat before.�

�She was captured, wasn�t she?� asked Aragorn grimly. �I saw scars on both of her wrists, scars resulting from one struggling within tight bindings.�

Elrond paused. He didn�t want to reveal too much so that he could keep his promise to Miriel. �The road that brought Dagnir to Imladris has been dark, and one of much pain. I would counsel you all not to press the issue with her, not to question her past. Some wounds have not yet healed, and perhaps, never will. It is my hope that whilst Miriel is here, we�ll be able to ease her suffering, to help make her whole again. She has already demonstrated a resiliency that is not often seen in Man.�

The Elf Lord paused again, as the others pondered his comments. What wounds had not healed? What did the Orcs do to her while holding her captive?

�It seems to me, Father, that some misfortune had befallen Miriel before she had set out from Gondor, that some grief caused her to leave her home,� remarked a perceptive Elrohir.

�Nay! It was her Calling that caused her to leave!� voiced Halbarad, his tone full of certainty. �I believe her prophetic dreams sent her on her way, that she understood her Slayer skills would be needed outside of Gondor.�

�I think its best not to discuss that which drove Miriel to depart Minas Tirith,� cautioned Elrond. �If and when Miriel decides she�s ready, let her be the one that brings up her past. From this day forward our concern will be with doing what we can to help Miriel become a more effective Slayer.�

�And what is it that you want us to do, Elrond?� asked Glorfindel, as it seemed that he was to have some role in his lord�s plans.

Elrond shifted his gaze to the mighty Noldo. �Miriel will need to be properly trained � �

� � But that�s my task!� interjected Halbarad, nearly leaping out of his chair. �She�s my Slayer! My responsibility!�

Elrond�s brows darted upward; a wry smile coming to his face. �You speak of her as if she�s your possession, Halbarad. The Slayer is a person, and does not belong to you or anyone else.�

�With all due respect, Lord Elrond, I am her designated Watcher. It�s my birthright to train her, not Glorfindel�s,� contested the D�nadan. He did not like the thought of the Elves interfering with his life�s mission, especially seeing as it had been centuries since a Slayer had last appeared in this part of Middle-earth.

Before Elrond could respond to the Ranger, Elladan spoke up. �She does not trust you, Hal. And, as far as I can see, it will be some time before she will.�

Halbarad seemed insulted by the Half-elf�s comments. �I�ve done nothing wrong! I�ve said no ill words to Miriel, nor have I done her wrong.�

Aragorn shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Though his name had not been said aloud, it seemed obvious to the Ranger Chieftain that he was the one that had caused Miriel�s mistrust of men.

�Trust is something that must be earned and will not be granted simply because you�re a Watcher,� said the Lord of Rivendell. �Miriel�s mistrust of men happened long before she even met you.�

�But, she trusts the Elves?!� queried Halbarad, somewhat insulted by that notion.

�She is wary, even of us,� replied Elladan. �We are the first Elves she has ever met, and, in her mind, we have not wronged her� �

�Yet!� added the Watcher, sinking back into the cushions of the couch.

Elrohir narrowed his eyes . �What are you implying, Hal? Do you think we seek to do harm to the Slayer?�

�No,� he grumbled, folding his arms across his chest.

�I can assure you, Halbarad � your time will come,� said Elrond, understanding how upset the Watcher was. �Let the Elder work with her first. Then, we�ll introduce you into her daily routine, allowing you and Glorfindel to work together, for a time. Once we see that you have earned Miriel�s trust, we will step aside and let you take charge.�

All eyes turned to Halbarad. He wasn�t fond of the idea, but it seemed that he had no other choice but to accept Elrond�s plan.

�Fine,� he answered. �But I would like to watch these training sessions. I want to see for myself what Dagnir�s current skill level is, so I can adjust my future training sessions accordingly.�

�I think that can be arranged,� answered Glorfindel with a nod of his head.

�And how is it that I fit into this design of yours, Elrond?� asked Erestor, who had remained quiet throughout most of the conversation. �I am no mighty warrior � at least, I cannot compare to the likes of Glorfindel here.� He motioned toward the golden haired Noldo, offering him a quick smile.

�The Slayer will have questions that she will seek the answers to, and that is where you come in.�

�But why not you?� queried the puzzled Councilor. �You are master of this land. I would think that you would be the one Miriel would seek.�

Elrond sighed heavily. �I�m afraid that things will be� awkward, between the Slayer and myself for a while. She will avoid me in coming days.�

�Why is that, Father?� asked Elrohir.

�Miriel is displeased with my method of extracting information from her. But, let us drop the matter, for now. We all know our parts to play. Let us do all we can to make Miriel comfortable here.�

�Should I go?� asked Aragorn, thinking that he was the one that had caused the Slayer the most distress. �Is it best for me to return to the wilds?�

�Nay,� replied the Lord of Imladris. �Arwen is doing what she can to help dispel Miriel�s distrust toward you.� He smiled. �The Slayer will eventually come around.�



Elladan and Elrohir woke Miriel the following morning, and brought her breakfast in bed.

�You�re spoiling me!� she said, eyeing the victuals on the tray set before her. �A girl could get used to this.�

�We hope this is temporary, and that you�ll soon be joining us in the main hall at mealtimes,� remarked Elladan as he sat on the edge of her bed.

�It�s a shame that you want to stay locked up in this room when we could be outside enjoying the last days of summer,� chimed in his brother, sitting across from Miriel.

�The last days of summer,� said the skeptical Slayer, shoveling a forkful of eggs into her mouth. �Surely, you jest! I thought autumn had already arrived.�

�How can it be autumn when the leaves are still green? Do the leaves not turn color in Minas Tirith?� asked Elladan.

�There are not many trees in the White City.� Elladan�s comments made Miriel curious about the date for the first time in a long while. �What is today�s date?�

When Miriel heard Elladan reply August the 28th, the fork fell from her grasp and landed on the plate with a clatter. She couldn�t believe that so little time had passed since she had departed Minas Tirith. She could�ve sworn that much more time had passed since then.

�Are you alright?� asked Elrohir, his face anxious. �What�s wrong?�

The Slayer was still somewhat dazed by the date.

�Miriel? Miriel?� Elladan said with concern.

Refocusing her attention on her companions, the girl said, �I cannot believe that time has moved so much more slowly than I had thought. I thought the date was somewhere between September and October.�

�The leaves have long turned color at that time of year,� pointed out Elladan.

�And have begun to fall from the trees as well,� added his twin.

�How long has it been since you set out from Gondor?� asked the eldest son of Elrond, hoping his question wouldn�t upset the Slayer.

�I left on June the 21st, a little over two months ago.� She shook her head in dismay, still finding it hard to believe that so much had happened to her in such a short amount of time.

�Do not let such a trivial thing cause you distress,� counseled Elrohir. �Eat. It will make you feel better.�

Elrohir was right. There was nothing Miriel could do about the date or how little time she had actually spent on her own. It was pointless to dwell on such things. Though still stunned, she resumed eating, nibbling on a strip of crispy bacon.

�We had a discussion about you last night,� disclosed Elladan, helping himself to a strip of bacon.

�Somehow that doesn�t surprise me,� mumbled Miriel, tossing down the bacon for a sip of tea. �And what did the illustrious Elves of Imladris have to say about me?�

�We talked about properly training you for combat � when you�re ready, of course,� answered Elladan between chews.

�Father thinks it�s best that you practice with us,� mentioned Elrohir.

�Ooh, so you and Elladan are going to be my sparring partners,� she said, blowing on her tea before taking a sip.

�Well, no. He thought Glorfindel � AHH!� Elrohir�s sentence was cut short by his sudden shriek. The Slayer had spewed hot tea on the Half-elf at the mere mention of Glorfindel�s name.

�Sorry,� she coughed, choking on some of the hot liquid.

Elladan laughed at his brother�s misfortune. �If only we could elicit that same reaction from Dagnir!�

Miriel handed her napkin to the youngest son of Elrond, apologizing again. �You don�t mean the Glorfindel,� she said excitedly. �As in Glorfindel of Gondolin fame. As in he who slew the Balrog?�

�The one and the same,� answered Elrohir, wiping his face. �Though, he�s been a resident of Imladris for far longer than that of Gondolin.�

�And, technically, he didn�t slay that Balrog. They both fell to their deaths, in combat,� corrected Elladan.

�That�s a touchy subject with Glorfindel,� said Elrohir. �I advise you not to bring that up in discussion. It still pains him so to talk about it.�

Miriel nodded. She was speechless to learn that she would be training with possibly the greatest Elf-warrior to ever set foot in Middle-earth. Not only that, but as far as she knew, Glorfindel was the only Elf ever to die and come back to Middle-earth. Well, other than L�thien, but she came back as a mortal, having given up her immortality out of her profound love for Beren.

The Slayer now contemplated giving up her self-appointed isolation for a chance just to meet the mighty Noldo. When it came to living legends - no one could possibly top Glorfindel of Gondolin. And to think that she would be taught the intricacies of warfare by one of such great esteem. Wow!

With a dreamy look on her face, she picked up a piece of bacon and went to put it in her mouth. She was so caught up in her thoughts that she missed her mouth entirely, the bacon sliding along her cheek.

Of course, upon seeing that, the twins both burst out laughing, causing Miriel�s cheeks to turn beet red from embarrassment.

�How can one be so instantly infatuated with one whom they�ve never met?!� exclaimed Elrohir, shaking his head.

�He�s just a man, Miriel,� added Elladan. �He�s no different than us.�

�So you say!� she replied, taking the napkin from Elrohir and wiping the grease from her still flushed face.

Any possibility of Miriel falling into a melancholy state immediately dissipated. In fact, her mood became almost euphoric. Even the teasing of the Half-elves didn�t faze her one bit. She had decided to give up her solitary confinement and venture outside of her room, exploring both the house and grounds with the twins.

After eating, Miriel dressed in one of Arwen�s gowns, (since her own clothes had not yet been mended and returned). She continued to walk barefoot, wanting to give her heels time to heal. This time, the Slayer was undaunted by the gawkers in the corridors, some even greeted her with a �Hail, Dagnir,� or �Well met, Dagnir,� when she passed by.

At the end of their tour, she and the brothers ate a picnic lunch by the waterfall. Its roar could be heard virtually everywhere in the valley. As the afternoon waned, Miriel�s hope of meeting Glorfindel became dashed.

When the supper bells rang out, Elladan and Elrohir convinced Miriel to eat with the rest of the household. She had agreed, until she reached the doorway of the massive chamber and spotted Elrond. Though their eyes met for the briefest moment, Miriel�s cheeks turned bright pink, just knowing that the Elf Lord had seen the most horrible events in her life played out before him. She fled the hall, returning to her room.

Since Elrond had informed his sons that things would be awkward between himself and the Slayer in the coming days, her reaction was not surprising. The brothers prepared a tray of food for themselves and Miriel, and then took off to her room.

After that episode, Miriel remained sequestered in her room for a few days. Seeing Elrond proved that she wasn�t ready to face any Elf that might possess the same power which he had. She felt as if she would die if anyone else witnessed the horrors of her past.



There came a day, nearly a week later, when there was a knock on her bedchamber door. Miriel left her chair by the window, crossed the room, and swung open the door. Her jaw nearly hit the floor (figuratively speaking) when she saw a man with shimmering golden hair standing in the corridor.

�Hail, Miriel,� he said with a smile. His voice sounded like the sweetest melody she had ever heard. �I�m Glorfindel, and I�ve come to see if you�re ready to begin your training.�

The Slayer was speechless, staring wide-eyed at the Noldo. Her heart began to race in her chest as she stared at this beautiful man standing before her. Stop it, Miriel, she said, chastising herself. He can hear your heartbeat. Calm down. Unable to find her voice, she nodded instead.

Glorfindel tried to engage Miriel in conversation as they headed toward the staircase. He wanted to hear from her, on what she considered to be her strengths and weaknesses. Unfortunately for the Slayer, she found herself awestruck by the Elf Lord, and was unable to utter a single word. Every time Glorfindel looked at her with those mesmerizing eyes of his, waiting for a response, her cheeks turned red.

�Very well then,� he said with a laugh. �I shall find out what you are capable of soon enough.�

Miriel wished that Elladan and Elrohir were with her. She felt so at ease with the twins, and at that moment, would�ve relished their company. She felt like a small child in the presence of such a mighty lord.

Glorfindel led the Slayer out of the doors at the back of the house and into the garden. There were Elves milling about, glancing at the duo as they walked by. They left the garden, turning to the south, to a training area used by the Elves. A variety of weapons had already been laid out, mostly wooden replicas of the real thing. The only �real� weapons were bows and arrows, and, unfortunately it was the bow that Glorfindel first picked up.

�Let us start with the bow,� he suggested, much to Miriel�s dismay.

Why o� why did the Noldo choose the one weapon with which she wasn�t proficient? She frowned at his selection.

�By the expression on your face, I gather you�re not fond of this weapon,� he said, smiling.

�No,� she said, speaking for the first time since meeting the Elf Lord. She glared at the bow, hoping it would somehow break in two. �I�ve never been able to master the bow,� she grumbled in discontent.

�Then I�ve chosen rightly,� he replied, picking up an arrow from the pile on the ground. �The key to archery is technique.� Glorfindel then handed Miriel both the bow and an arrow. �Let me see you shoot, then I�ll be able to judge what you�re doing wrong.�

The Slayer stood in alignment with the nearest target, armed her weapon, pulled back on the string and let go. The arrow did a nose dive into the ground a few feet away. Frustrated, Miriel cursed under her breath. She hated looking like an incompetent fool in front of such a seasoned warrior. Why couldn�t they practice with a sword, or axe, or spear? Those weapons felt more natural to the Slayer and were much easier to wield.

�You�re not handling the weapon correctly,� observed the Noldo. �That seems to be the problem. We can remedy that easily enough.� He grabbed another arrow from the pile and stepped behind Miriel.

The moment he touched her, to reposition her hand on the arch of the bow, she flinched. Glorfindel immediately pulled his hand a few inches away. The Noldo�s touch both frightened and exhilarated Miriel, which she found quite disconcerting.

�It�s alright, Miriel,� he said reassuringly, gently placing his hand on top of hers and sliding it down the wood to the correct position.

The Slayer bit her bottom lip, desperate for her rapid heart beat to return to normal. No one�s touch had ever affected her in such a way. Miriel�s body got all tingly when she felt his chest press against her back, when the naked skin of his arm brushed against her own. That feeling was momentarily dashed as he positioned her fingers on the string, squeezing a bit too tightly for her liking.

�Now, pull back,� he instructed, his fingers clasping hers on the string, as he guided her arm back. The girl could feel the warmth of his breath on the back of her neck. Goosebumps rose all over her flesh. �Let go,� he then said. Miriel released the arrow, which flew through the air, hitting the target. �Not bad,� said the Noldo, stepping aside, and nodding approvingly.

�I missed the bulls-eye,� the Slayer sighed in disappointment. Actually, she didn�t care if she had hit the target�s center or not. What really disappointed her was that Glorfindel was no longer touching her, and had moved a couple of paces away.

�We�ll try it again,� he said, as he bent down and picked up another arrow. Miriel�s eyes remained fixed on the Elf until he looked at her once again. She then shifted her eyes to the arrow clutched in his hand. �Do it just as I showed you,� he added, handing her the projectile.

The Slayer nodded. In true womanly fashion, she deliberated handled the weapon incorrectly, causing the Noldo to once again step behind her and position her hand and fingers correctly on the weapon. She did that a few more times until the Elf seemed frustrated by her inability to follow directions. She didn�t want him to think that she was some nitwit, so she made a point to fire correctly. To the joy of the Noldo, she hit the target, dead-center.

�Well done, Miriel. Well done!� Glorfindel said, applauding her success.

�Thanks,� she said, smiling. The Slayer was glad that she had been able to actually hit the target � a first for her.

�Now, do it again.�

The smile left Miriel�s face. Though she had managed to hit the target, she wanted to move on to a different weapon, one which she had already mastered.

�Again?� she whined in dismay.

�You must continue to practice until you�ve mastered this skill. Merely hitting the target once is not good enough. Try again,� he ordered, patiently waiting for her to arm her weapon.

Much to Miriel�s chagrin, she wasn�t able to hit the target�s center again. Despite the long time she spent practicing, her aim became worse as her annoyance increased. She had become so frustrated that she threw her weapon to the ground and gave up. �I have a blister,� she complained, inspecting the swelling on her finger.

�That�s bound to happen,� the Noldo answered, coming over to Miriel to take a look at her finger.

�It hurts,� she whined, pouting over the fact that she had to contend with a new blister, just when her others had finally healed.

�Blisters lead to calluses. And in time, you will feel no pain when handling the bow.�

�Pfft,� she sounded, rolling her eyes. �I do not understand why I have the need to learn archery when a crossbow is just as effective, if not more so!� she argued.

�A Slayer must be proficient in all weaponry,� counseled the Elf Lord. He lifted her hand, looking at the blister. �That�s not bad.�

When Glorfindel touched her, that tingly feeling coursed throughout her body. It was one thing to have him touch her when he stood behind her, but it was altogether different when he was standing in front of her. She quickly pulled her hand away, hoping that the Noldo couldn�t see how his touch affected her. �I reckon I�ll live,� she said, avoiding eye contact with him.

�Let�s take a break.�

�You mean we�re not finished!� she exclaimed, ready to call it a day.

�By all means � no. We�ve only just begun,� replied the Elf Lord. He and Miriel then headed toward a shady spot beneath a beech tree where some refreshments had been set out. As they walked, Glorfindel glanced at her and in a lighthearted tone added, �I did not realize that Slayers were so delicate. We can wrap that finger of yours before we resume.�

In that moment, Miriel suddenly realized that she was acting incredibly childish in the presence of one whom she admired greatly. She felt stupid in having done so, and made a mental note to stop straight away. She became a bit more reserved after that, thinking things over before actually saying them aloud.

The abrupt change in Miriel�s demeanor didn�t go unnoticed by Glorfindel. But, being a Noldo of considerable age, he knew that it would hinder things between him and the Slayer if he mentioned it. The Elf wasn�t blind. He could sense the girl�s attraction to him. He thought it would be best to ignore it, and eventually, her feelings would subside.

In the days that followed, Miriel became more comfortable around Glorfindel though their exercises became increasingly more difficult. No matter what weapon she wielded, the Noldo bested her every time. Though he explained that he had millennia of experience over her, that didn�t quell her wounded pride. She was the Slayer for goodness sakes! Shouldn�t she be victorious over him from time to time? The answer was apparently no. At least not in those early days when they had first begun sparring together.

Glorfindel�s workouts left Miriel exhausted and sore at the end of each day. She must have begun using muscles that had been inactive or something. However, being in Rivendell did have its perks. Whenever they finished their sessions, the Slayer was rewarded for her efforts with a massage by one of the truly wondrous and talented elleths of Elrond�s house. If not for those women, Miriel wouldn�t have been able to climb out of bed the following mornings.

As the days rolled by, others came to watch their practices, gathering around the edge of the glade, yelling suggestions and comments whenever the Slayer battled the golden-haired Noldo. Sometimes those Elves proved to be positively distracting, but at other times, their words of encouragement gave Miriel hope that she would one day defeat the mighty Glorfindel.

It didn�t take long for the Slayer to adjust to her daily routine. The better part of each day was spent practicing with the Noldo, their exercises usually ending late in the afternoon. That�s not to say that they spent hour upon hour in physical combat � that was far from the case. Just like her sessions with Buffy, the Elf Lord expected Miriel to use meditation to become more in tune to her surroundings. Part of her training was devoted to honing her senses. Sometimes, they were more physical. For example, Glorfindel would blindfold her, and then he (and a privileged few) would then throw bags of dried beans at her, sometimes bombarding her all at once and from various directions. She, in turn, would have to hit or kick the bags before they struck her. That was not only a test of her perceptiveness, but also demonstrated how quick her reflexes were.

Then, there were times when she just sat there, in silence, with her eyes closed. The Noldo would slowly walk around her, speaking softly in elvish. There was something about his voice, the tone and rhythm of it, that somehow made her more aware of her natural surroundings. If outside, she could feel the air moving against her skin, even when there was no breeze, or hear the footfalls of the smallest of creatures scampering across the grass or up a tree despite the constant roar of the waterfall. Miriel found it frightfully amazing how perceptive she could be, when she tried.

Evenings were about the only time Miriel had free � down time she called it. Often she would be in the company of the children of Elrond, whom she enjoyed being around most. Not that she didn�t enjoy the others of Elrond�s household, though she found the Elves to be a peculiar sort of people.

The younger Elves seemed more joyous, enjoying the days of their youth, despite the peril outside their borders. There were even a few that were quite the pranksters, reminding Miriel of her young cousins in Dol Amroth. Then, there were some, the older ones, who were more solemn in nature. They seemed to cling to bygone days when the world was young. Now, they felt much sorrow as the world around them continued to change when they did not. These were the Elder. They delighted in the simple things in life that the Slayer tended to overlook, or not heed at all.

Take a flower, for example. The Elder would marvel as the shoot turned into a bud. And when it blossomed fully, their hearts would rejoice, but then, as the flower began to wither, each petal falling off one by one, they would mourn that loss, that loss of life. For they considered all things to be alive, whether it be dirt or stone or wood. Perhaps that had to do with the myths of old, that they had sprung out of the ground beneath a starlit sky.

But, those Elves that had dwelled in Middle-earth since the beginning put the kibosh on that theory. There were still a few, including Glorfindel, who had lived since the very beginning, when the Elves had first awoke by the bay they named Cuivi�nen. These were the same Elves that had followed Orom� into the West, and lived in bliss within the Light of the Two Trees. To meet such an ancient people was definitely awe-inspiring, and Miriel, being a mere mortal, had numerous questions about Valinor and times past. But trying to get an answer, a simple answer, to a simple question, never happened. Every reply was lengthy and so detailed in description that inevitably the Elf whom she had questioned would go off topic, or would take so long to get to the point, that Miriel had lost interest, or had forgotten what she had asked in the first place.

Glorfindel seemed the only one of those fair folk that didn�t exhibit these signs. But, at this point in time, under the advisement of Elladan and Elrohir, Miriel never questioned him about times past. Her conversations with the Noldo, for the most part, revolved around combat and weaponry.

One of the things that Miriel enjoyed most about the Elder was their story-telling abilities. For when they shared tales of old, they were able to conjure images of those times in the listener�s mind. The Slayer was able to see the likes of Fingolfin, and Finrod Felagund in all their glory, and she saw ancient elvish kingdoms of such beauty and majesty that rivaled none in Middle-earth today. To her, that was true elven magic, and as such, something she would never forget for the rest of her life.



The days soon turned into weeks, and the first signs of autumn appeared in the valley. The leaves, now red, gold, orange and yellow began to flutter from their branches, gracefully falling to the earth, and the air became cooler, the nights longer. There were times, infrequent though they were, when Miriel was able to walk the grounds alone, thinking.

There came one such day, near the end of September, when the Slayer was following a pathway through the gardens and came upon the strangest sight. Seated on a bench beside the path was a small person, one who did not appear to be a Dwarf. She stopped, now finding herself a gawker, staring fixated on this rather small creature. While she loathed referring to the person as a creature, she couldn�t help it. He appeared to be a man, a man of old age with grey bushy hair, but it was his feet that caused her to stare wide-eyed. They were not ordinary mortal-like feet, or even elvish feet. They were large, (at least for his size) and hairy, which surprised the girl. She had never seen anything like that before. The �man� appeared to be reading a book and was dressed in fine garments.

After several long seconds, he scornfully said, �It�s rude to stare, I�ll have you know.� His eyes never left the pages of his book, but obviously, he had been watching her from the corner of his eye.

Miriel stood there for a few moments before continuing down the path, approaching the little fellow. �I meant no disrespect,� she said, regretting her uncouth behavior. It hadn�t been that long ago that the Elves were doing the same thing to her. She clearly recalled how uncomfortable and unsettling she found that to be. �I... I haven�t seen you here before,� she remarked as she neared the little old man. Her eyes remained locked on him, wondering if he was some other breed of Dwarf that she had not encountered before. �You do not look like any Dwarf that I have seen.�

The little man snapped his book shut and shifted his gaze to her. �That�s because I�m not a Dwarf, but a Hobbit.�

The Slayer was baffled. She had never heard that term before. �A Hobbit? I know of no such word. Are you from around these parts?�

�I see that your manners are a bit rusty, hmm?� he scolded. The lines on his face then deepened as he gave her a small smile. �Before one questions another, introductions are called for, wouldn�t you say?� he said.

�I�m sorry,� she apologized, feeling her cheeks reddening with embarrassment at her lack of decorum. �My name�s � �

�Oh, I know who you are,� said the Hobbit with a wave of his hand. �You�re Miriel, the Slayer. I must say, the whole place has been abuzz about you since your arrival.� The little man began to swing his legs, which didn�t quite reach the ground. �I think you�re the first female of the Big Folk to come to Rivendell in some time.�

Miriel couldn�t help but smile. This little Hobbit seemed a likeable fellow though he had a sharp tongue. She stopped in front of him. �And who might you be?�

�My name is Bilbo Baggins, of the Shire. Hobbiton to be more precise.� He then leapt to his feet and bowed, in more typical dwarvish fashion than that of a Hobbit.

Miriel�s smile widened. �Nice to meet you. But, I�m still confused about what a Hobbit is.�

Bilbo leapt back onto the bench, patting the vacant place beside him, offering her a seat. He was as curious about her as she was him. The Slayer sat beside the Hobbit, her eyes never leaving him for even one moment.

�I hear you�re from the south. Gondor, I believe.�

�Yes,� she replied, nodding.

�If the rumors are true, the elvish is tongue is still spoken some in those parts,� he continued in a cheerful voice, swinging his legs once again. �We are called Periannath in the elven tongue. Halflings.�

A look of recognition came to Miriel�s face . �Oh, yes.� She then furrowed her brows. �But I had always thought that the Periannath were mythical creatures, that they never existed in real life.�

�You thought wrong then! I�m living proof of that!� he said jovially.

�You make a good point,� she chuckled. �What brings you to Rivendell?� Miriel asked, wanting to strike up a conversation with the Hobbit.

�Oh, I�ve retired here,� he answered, glancing around the garden. �There really is no finer place in all Middle-earth. It�s rather peaceful here.�

�You�ve traveled a lot, I take it,� she remarked, finding herself somewhat surprised by that notion.

A wistful smile came to his face. �Back in the day, I had. I�m much too old to venture out like I once did. Old age is creeping up on me,� he sighed. �But I had my share fair of adventures, having traveled as far as the Lonely Mountain, east of Mirkwood.� He shifted his eyes back to Miriel. �I�m working on my book,� he continued, waving the tome in his hand, �writing about my adventures with the Dwarves.�

Miriel smiled. �That�s nice. Hopefully, one day I�ll get to read that book of yours,� she said.

�Once it�s finished,� he replied. �I still have much more to write.� He paused before asking, �Have you given any thought to writing about your experiences thus far? I�m sure the life of a Slayer is quite fascinating.�

The smile faded from the girl�s face. �No,� she answered, somewhat glumly, shifting her eyes to her feet. �I wouldn�t want to put my experiences into print. If I could, I�d rather forget them.�

Seeing the sudden change in the girl, Bilbo placed his hand on her arm, saying, �I�m sorry, dear, did I say something to upset you?�

�No,� she replied, getting to her feet. �My life�s far from fascinating.�

�You�re not running off, are you?� Bilbo was quite interested in learning more about this girl.

�I�m tired,� she lied. �It was nice to meet you, Bilbo. Perhaps we�ll get a chance to talk more at another time.� She offered the Halfling a quick smile before starting back to the house.

�Alright then,� he said, wondering what he could have possibly said to cause this sudden change in the Slayer. Watching her walk off, he uttered, �Poor child,� under his breath before returning to his book.

Miriel went straight to her room. For some reason, her melancholy had returned. She felt so depressed that she climbed onto her bed and lay there, thinking about how crappy her life had been. The thought of writing a book about her own life experiences horrified her. She would never want her story put into print for others to read. Little did she know...