Sad Wings of Destiny

After climbing the steps that led out of the valley, Miriel turned, and looked down upon the House of Elrond one last time. A chilly breeze came out of the northwest, blowing her hair across her face. She had never anticipated leaving Rivendell at this time of year, on the cusp of winter, having always envisioned leaving in spring, when the weather was fair and ideal for traveling. Funny how things never go as one expects.

�Let�s get a move on, Miriel,� said Aragorn, giving her a quick pat on the back as he passed by. The Ranger Chieftain would lead the way out of the elven realm.

With a heavy heart, the Slayer turned and followed Halbarad, who was walking behind Aragorn. They marched in single file with the twins at the rear. For a long while they went on in silence, each preoccupied with his or her own thoughts.

Miriel kept thinking about her time with the Elves, how it seemed as if she had only arrived yesterday, though, in actuality, three months had passed. While she had met many new people whom she considered friends, she continued to dwell on Glorfindel, and how badly she had screwed things up with him. She wondered if she�d ever see him again, if she�d ever feel comfortable in his presence as she once had. She reckoned only time would tell.

There had been no real conversation until late that evening when the group stopped for the night. They had made it to the patch of woods that bordered the road, atop the tall cliffs with steep, sheer walls that overlooked the moors far below. They moved off the path, into the woods, using the trees to help break the wind that whipped across the top of the ridge.

�We�ll rest here tonight,� announced Aragorn, dumping his packs onto the ground in a small clearing.

The others followed suit. Once relieved of their burdens, they began to search for dry kindling for the much anticipated fire.

Shortly thereafter, the twins had set ablaze a roaring fire. Its warmth was welcomed by all. They sat around the fire and ate their last meal of the day, savoring the elvish victuals provided by the most excellent cooks of Imladris.

After taking a sip of water, a curious Miriel asked, �So, where exactly are we going?� Her eyes shifted from one man to the next, eager to hear the response. When she didn�t immediately get an answer, she continued, �I mean, do we hunt these villains down, or what? I�m not sure how this all works.�

�We�re heading north,� answered Aragorn between chews.

�Aragorn is the finest tracker there is,� boasted Halbarad proudly. �Chances are we�ll come across the tracks of some enemy or another. Then and only then will we decide if it�s worth the pursuit.�

�Worth the pursuit,� repeated the Slayer with a snort. �Surely you jest!� Her eyes were wide with disbelief. She locked them on her Watcher. �Aren�t we hunters? Isn�t it our duty to pursue all evil and eradicate it?�

�That depends,� chimed in Elrohir. �There are only five of us, Miriel. It would be folly to pursue a great number of the enemy without the aid of more men.�

�Besides, there are other� tasks assigned to us,� mentioned Elladan.

Miriel�s eyes darted to the eldest son of Elrond. �What tasks?� she queried, having heard no mention of such a thing before.

The Elf shifted uncomfortably. He turned his gaze to the dancing flames of the fire, taking a mouthful of food to avoid answering.

�What tasks?� she repeated, her uneasiness growing with each passing second.

�That, you will learn in good time,� replied Halbarad with an air of finality to his voice. �For now � just do as I say, and finish your supper.�

Miriel�s jaw dropped, aghast at the manner in which Halbarad had spoken to her. Who the hell did he think he was? It wasn�t like he was her father.

Aragorn, coming to the Slayer�s defense, said, �There�s no need to speak so harshly to Miriel, Hal. It�s only natural that she�d have some questions.� The Ranger Chieftain shifted his empathetic grey eyes to her. �Let us see where our path leads, Miriel. There are times when we have no need to hunt the enemy, for they delight in hunting us as well.�

�Well, I appreciate your telling me something,� replied a grateful Miriel. She shot a rather nasty look at her Watcher, believing that she and he would come to blows at some point on their journey.

�Let us change the topic of conversation to something more pleasant, shall we?� suggested Elladan, in hopes of diffusing the mounting tension between Slayer and Watcher. He looked up at the stars that blanketed the sky. �That stars of Elbereth shine brightly tonight.� From the corner of his eye, he watched Miriel, hoping that she�d follow his lead, and drop the line of questioning.

It seemed rather obvious to the Slayer that the Rangers were withholding some vital information from her. Elladan�s lack of eye contact was proof of that. Staring into the fire, she wondered what these so-called tasks could be. Were they dangerous? They would have to be. Wasn�t that what the Rangers did � hunt and kill the enemy? But, if that were the case, why not tell Miriel? Surely, she had proved that she was quite capable of fighting � all the Rangers and the sons of Elrond had seen her in action firsthand. So, why be so secretive? Did Aragorn and others not trust her, or, was it that these assignments were so perilous they feared she wouldn�t go along? That seemed rather preposterous. As far as Miriel was concerned, she�d battle anyone. Okay, maybe not anyone. She�d never, ever dare confront the Dark Lord of Mordor himself. Even the armies of Elendil and Gil-galad weren�t able to defeat him, permanently, and they were legendary warriors in their time.

Other than Sauron, who else presented such a threat to the peoples of Middle-earth? Certainly, the Rangers weren�t thinking her incapable of battling Orcs, wargs or trolls! She had already slain those types of beastly creatures. She had even killed some Uruks while alongside Bregolas on their journey north. She didn�t fear the minions of Sauron, especially now, after having trained with the greatest warrior in all Middle-earth.

Miriel let out a heavy sigh. Why o� why did thoughts of Glorfindel spring into her mind, again? For a few brief moments she was getting quite excited trying to figure out what villain she�d face next, but now, thoughts of the mighty Noldo deflated what little enthusiasm she had built-up in her mind.

�Eat, Miriel,� said Elrohir, nudging her arm.

The Slayer was shaken back to her senses. �I�m not hungry,� she answered softly, wrapping up what food she hadn�t finished, before sticking it into one of her bags for later.

The conversation ended there. No one spoke another word for the rest of the night. The mood in the encampment became grim, a word Miriel would come to associate with the Rangers after spending more time with them in the wilds of Eriador. Elladan and Elrohir stared up at the star-lit sky, seemingly entranced by the creations of Varda Elbereth while both Aragorn and Halbarad were more like her, looking fixatedly on the flickering flames of the fire.

Miriel didn�t remember falling asleep, but at some point, she had. If she had dreamed at all, she had no memory of it when she was awakened the following morning by the soft elvish voice of Elladan.

�Time to get up, Miriel,� the Elf said to her.

With a yawn, the Slayer sat up, her stiff joints popping as she did so. The cool brisk morning air caused her to shudder. The sun had not yet risen and only a few glowing embers remained of the previous night�s fire.

�It�s going to be cold today,� announced Elrohir, as he dug through his pack, pulling out breakfast for the group.

Aragorn was already on his feet, staring to the northwest. �If we march steadily, we should reach the ford in two days time.�

�Hooray,� murmured a dispirited Miriel, already dreading the thought of getting her feet wet. Though her elven boots would prevent her heels from blistering, they were not, in fact, waterproof.

The Ranger Chieftain shifted his gaze to the Slayer; a half-smile adorned his rugged face. �Why so glum, Dagnir? I thought you would have been most eager to pursue the legacy of your foremothers.�

�Not with wet, cold feet,� she grumbled in reply.

�Perish the thought,� Aragorn chortled. �If that dismays you so, then I�m sure one of us men would be more than happy to carry you across the ford, thus keeping your delicate and dainty feet warm and dry,� he added teasingly.

�My feet are neither delicate nor dainty,� she scoffed. �And I don�t need any man to carry me anywhere!�

�Very well then,� answered the Ranger Chieftain.

After a quick meal, the group set off, beginning the day�s march. They left the patch of woods, returning to the roadway that ran along the steep cliffs. With no barrier, the wind rushed across the vast openness, its coldness stinging Miriel�s face and left ear.

The trek proved miserable, mostly from the winds, which never let up over the course of the day. Only rain would have made it worse, but thankfully, the sky remained cloud-free. By the time the Rangers stopped for the night, they had put another fifty miles or so behind them.

Unfortunately, their encampment for the night left much to be desired. There were no trees to shelter them from the wind. Though the road was beginning to slope downwards the closer they got to the River Bruinen, there was still a steep drop bordering the east side of the road. To their west, a tall wall of rock stretched upward, insurmountable by any creature without the aid of wings.

Due to their surroundings, there would be no fire tonight. The group would have to rely on whatever garments and blankets they had packed in their bags to keep warm for the night. With their backs against the frigid rock wall, they sat huddled together in hopes of sharing their body heat. The winds continued to blow, nipping at their faces.

Once Miriel had finished eating, she pulled her blanket tightly around her, as well as over her face, to help keep the cold wind at bay. Unfortunately, the stone floor and wall remained constantly frigid, and the material of her cloak and blanket were not thick enough to ward off the icy chill on her back and rear end.

Under these conditions, sleep came intermittently. On those rare occasions when the Slayer dozed off, she used either Elladan or Elrohir (whom she sat between) as a pillow. Neither Elf minded. To them, Miriel�s body was like a furnace, and every time she slumped on one or the other, they got an extra dose of body heat. Her drool, on the other hand, was something they could�ve lived without, but they accepted that that was the price one had to pay for the additional warmth.

The following morning, they awoke before dawn, ate another small meal, then resumed their trek. The winds had finally died down and the weather, though chilly, was much more tolerable than it had been. It seemed to Miriel that she and her companions were making more progress today than they had on the previous day�s journey. She surmised that that was because the road was sloping more downwards than before, and that that aided their progress.

By late afternoon, they were standing amidst the trees on the ridge of the valley that overlooked the river below.

Looking over his shoulder, Aragorn said, �Rejoice, Miriel! We�ve finally reached the ford.�

�If you�d like, Miriel, I�ll carry you across the stream,� suggested Elladan lightheartedly.

�I�m quite capable of crossing on my own,� Miriel answered.

Elrohir looked at Miriel. There was a mischievous glint in his eye that matched the grin on his face. As he took a breath to speak, Miriel waved her finger threateningly, interjecting, �And if anyone mentions the words �delicate� or �dainty�, I�m tossing you into the river!�

Taking the Slayer�s threat seriously, the youngest son of Elrond decided not to tease her about her feet, as he had intended to.

�Let�s get a move on,� announced Aragorn. He then started down the embankment, the others following behind.

When they reached the bottom, Miriel plopped down on a flat rock and began to pull off her boots.

�What are you doing?� asked Halbarad, frowning.

�I would think that�s quite obvious,� she shot back. �Perhaps you don�t mind having cold, wet feet, but I do.� She then pulled off one of her stockings.

�Then you should just let one of us carry you across,� the Watcher remarked, not bothering to conceal his annoyance. �It�s faster, you know.�

Miriel ignored his comments altogether. But she had to smile when the twins plunked down and began to pull off their boots and stockings too.

�What are you doing?� Halbarad queried, his eyes darting from one twin to the other.

�Miriel makes a good point,� answered Elladan. �Why suffer the night with wet boots when there�s no need.�

Much to Halbarad�s chagrin, Aragorn too decided to pull off his boots before crossing the ford. Disgusted by what he was seeing, he trudged across the stream in his booted feet, undaunted by the icy cold water that reached halfway up his calf.

The others rolled up the legs of their breeches, and with their boots in hand, carefully crossed the rocky riverbed. Once they had reached the other side, they used their cloaks to wipe their feet dry before putting their boots back on. The Slayer gave her Watcher a smug look, delighted that the twins and Aragorn had done as she had.

�It�ll take days for your boots to dry,� she remarked, watching as Halbarad tried to squeeze the excess water from his footwear.

�And what will you do when it rains, Dagnir? Walk barefoot?� he snapped back.

�Don�t be silly, Halbarad! Why get my feet wet when I don�t have to?� she replied with a roll of her eyes. �And I couldn�t help but notice that you directed your questions at me, when three mighty lords have also done as I have. Is there a reason why you�ve singled me out, and not them? Or is it just you being a typical ass?�

�Let�s have none of that, Miriel,� said Aragorn with a hint of caution to his tone.

�He started it,� she whined, casting a disapproving look at her Watcher.

�Well, let�s just put it behind us, alright?� replied the Ranger Chieftain. Considering the subject closed, Aragorn looked first at the pathway leading out of Rivendell, then up at the sky. �We can still put some distance behind us before the sun sets,� he observed.

�Lead the way then,� replied Elrohir, heaving his packs from the ground and the straps over his shoulders.

The group resumed their trek, marching in single file as they had been. Miriel kept a few paces between her and Halbarad, mostly to avoid the temptation of walloping him in the back of the head. She found that man to be incredibly irritating, and couldn�t understand what she had done to earn his enmity. Sure, she had smarted off to him at the beginning of their training sessions, but, for the love of the Valar, he was no great warrior, Watcher or not. How could he compare to the likes of Glorfindel?

Miriel cringed inside. Would there ever come a day when thoughts of the dashing, handsome, brave, golden-haired Noldo didn�t come to mind? No matter how hard she tried to think of something else � anything else, she kept picturing snippets of the good times with the Elf Lord.

As her heart grew heavy, so did her feet, and the Slayer began to lag further behind Halbarad. Though Elrohir and Elladan tried their best to prod her along, after having gone on another hour or so, they called the group to a halt for the night.

Relieved that the day�s march was finally over, Miriel dropped down onto the leaf-littered ground, feeling utterly exhausted. The shadows of the woods deepened, as the men began to hurriedly collect what wood they could find for the night�s fire.

The Slayer had been seated for roughly thirty seconds when Halbarad barked, �Miriel! Clear a spot for a fire!�

Miffed that her Watcher, once again, had spoken unkindly, Miriel remained seated, refusing to carry out his order.

When she did not do as he commanded, an angry Halbarad stomped over to her, his wet boots crunching the dry leaves on the forest floor. �Are you deaf, girl?� he exclaimed, glaring down at her with narrowed eyes. �I told you to clear a spot for a fire. Get off your ass and do as you�re told! Now!�

�Don�t tell me what to do!� she shot back, fed up with the way Halbarad constantly berated her.

�As your Watcher, I most certainly can tell you what to do,� he replied between gritted teeth.

�Enough!� bellowed Aragorn from several feet away. He approached the bickering duo, his arms laden with dry wood. He fixed his gaze on Miriel. �You�re no longer in Minas Tirith, Miriel. And we are not your servants. We must all do our part, you included.�

The Slayer felt her heart drop when gently scolded by the Ranger Chieftain. However, that feeling dissipated when Aragorn locked his eyes on Halbarad, and said, �And you must stop speaking to Miriel the way you do, Halbarad. She is not your child� or a dog. Don�t speak to her as if she is.�

Miriel rejoiced inside when she heard Aragorn�s condemnation of her Watcher. He was right. Halbarad did treat her like a dog!

�I�m sorry, Aragorn,� she apologized. �I do not want to be a hindrance and will do my part.� She immediately began to rake away the leaves with her hands, smiling inside when she heard Halbarad�s apology to his lord.

In Miriel�s eyes, Aragorn was fit to be king. He was fair, and didn�t wholly blame her or Halbarad over their brief, heated exchange. She only wished that fate had chosen Aragorn to be her Watcher, instead of that insufferable man.

Playing the part of dutiful companion, Miriel cleared a large spot for the fire. Shortly thereafter, the fire crackled to life, courtesy of the Ranger Chieftain. The group sat around the fire, warming themselves as the flames devoured the wood, growing taller and taller.

Halbarad, the only one with wet feet, pulled off his boots and positioned them by the fire in hopes that the heat would help them dry. He then draped his damp, smelly stockings over the tips of a couple of sticks, which he had stuck in the earth beside the flames. It took everything the Slayer had to refrain from commenting on the horrid odor emanating from her Watcher�s feet, as she didn�t want to be accused of starting a new argument.

They ate their cold supper in silence. Miriel would�ve given anything to eat something hot, such as stew or soup, something that would warm up her insides on such a cold night. When the fire had burned down some, Elladan heated some water. As a treat, each person was given half a cup of tea. Though there was no cream or sugar, the hot beverage seemed to hit the spot.



Since leaving Rivendell, they had followed the same routine, rising before dawn, walking until dusk. The change in the terrain was the only sign that they had made any progress. It wasn�t until they reached The Great East Road that Miriel felt like they had actually made some headway.

The trees that lined the south side of the road swayed and groaned as the damp, frigid winds blew from that direction. Grey clouds lingered overhead, blocking out the sun, and offering no warmth to the otherwise dreary day. Now the Slayer couldn�t help but notice that the men seemed uneasy, apprehensive, their eyes constantly searching the wooded hills to their north.

When she saw Aragorn�s hand grip the hilt of his sword, she grew deeply concerned, for she could sense no impending danger.

�What is it, Aragorn?� she asked, warily eyeing the woods. �Is there something lurking nearby?� As a precaution, she too grabbed the hilt of her sword.

�No, not that I can see,� he replied, his eyes still scanning the forest as they continued their march.

�Elladan, Elrohir, do you two see anything?� she then asked the sons of Elrond.

They too were searching the woods with their elven eyes, although their hands remained at their sides.

�I see naught but trees,� answered Elrohir.

Miriel shifted her gaze back to the Ranger Chieftain. �Then why so paranoid, Aragorn? Why is your hand on your weapon?�

�The wind blows out of the south.�

�Um, yeah. What of it?� she asked, not seeing the significance of that.

�Our scent carries on the wind, and these woods are infested with trolls,� he replied gravely.

�But isn�t it said that trolls only come out at night?� she queried. �It�s midday. We�re in no danger, are we?�

�Trolls avoid sunlight,� Aragorn answered. �And as you can see, we have none today. They hunt along the road when they may, looking for wary travelers to feed upon.�

�That is why we must use caution, particularly with the winds out of the south,� added Elladan. �If any trolls are nearby, they may pick up our scent.�

That didn�t concern Miriel at all. She had encountered trolls before and found that they weren�t the smartest of Morgoth�s creations. In fact, she had defeated two of them all by herself. Surely, with four seasoned warriors by her side, they would have no problem, should they encounter any. Besides, after having trained with Glorfindel � the greatest warrior in all Middle-earth, Miriel was quite eager to see how she�d do against beasts of any sort.

Not long afterwards, she could see, over the treetops, the great hill to their north, the same hill that she had scaled months ago that had inevitably led to her captivity by the evil men. Though she didn�t fall into a state of melancholy as she had on the way to Rivendell, her body nonetheless prickled all over at the mere sight of that mighty mound. It brought to mind memories of the torments that she had suffered at the hands of her captors. As Miriel looked away from the hill, she couldn�t help but wonder if the old hag was still around, waiting to ambush her, for there was no doubt in the Slayer�s heart that the two would meet again.

Onwards they went, traveling west along The Great East Road, under a dark grey sky. Miriel expected a deluge of rain at any time, which would just make the trip even more miserable. She hated the cold, and thought about how much worse it would be once the woods disappeared altogether. She was well aware that once they crossed The Last Bridge, they would enter a rugged, treeless terrain that would offer no protection from the winds � no matter which direction it blew from.

At the end of the day�s march, the group took refuge in a ravine on the south side of the road. The men felt it was best to stay off the road. Once again, they sat around the roaring fire, each savoring the warmth, as they ate their supper.

Since leaving the borders of Rivendell, at least one man had remained awake, on sentry duty, while the others slept. Miriel had, thus far, been fortunate to not be appointed as lookout since they had begun their journey. However, it was decided amongst the group that she should be on watch tonight. She was a bit surprised that she had been chosen for the task, considering the uneasy feelings the men had felt throughout the day.

Nevertheless, she was most willing to accept her assignment, as this wasn�t her first (nor would it be her last) time on guard duty. Feeling that she needed to keep an eye on the roadway, she crept up the wall of the ravine, saddened that she had to leave the warmth of the fire behind. When she reached the shoulder of the road, she searched for a decent spot from which to keep watch. Nestled amongst some trees was a large boulder that overlooked the roadway. She climbed on top of the massive stone, deciding that it offered a good view of the surrounding area.

That cold wind continued to blow from the south, and the boulder on which she sat felt like a large block of ice to her backside. Yet, Miriel was resolved not to complain and would endure what she considered to be a hardship for the greater good of her team.

The wind howled through the trees and the branches creaked and groaned in protest, making the night even more creepy. There was no moon, no stars, no light whatsoever. Everything looked to be different shades of black. The fire which her companions were enjoying seemed a far way off, for the Slayer couldn�t even catch a whiff of smoke from where she was sitting.

Nothing eventful happened for many hours (or so it seemed). That is, until late in the night when Miriel heard the unmistakable sound of a tree cracking, breaking from its base, and crashing to the earth with a loud thud that caused her heart to race. Though the noise sounded several hundred feet away, at a minimum, she froze, holding her breath, her eyes scanning the woods north of the road, from where the booming crash had come. Her body prickled all over as she waited for any additional sounds.

Had an old tree finally fallen due to the winds? Or, an even more ominous thought, had someone or something hacked down the tree

No, she thought, after pondering her latter question. I heard no axing noise.

When several long seconds of silence had passed, the Slayer began to breathe again. Though she thought that it was probably nothing more than a dead tree that had finally fallen over, Miriel felt compelled to inform the others of what she had heard, just to be on the safe side.

Keeping her eyes fixed on the northern woods, she slid off the boulder. When she turned around and saw a shadow amidst the darkness, she let out a yelp as she reached for her blade.

�It�s just me, Miriel,� said Elladan, softly but quickly.

As the Slayer let out a sigh of relief, the Elf added, �We felt the ground tremble - �

�Yes, yes,� she answered, nodding her head. �It sounded like a tree breaking, then crashing to the ground.�

Elladan narrowed his elven eyes, studying the dark woods across the road.

Searching the Elf�s face, Miriel asked, �Do you see anything?� before shifting her gaze back to the woods from which the sound had come.

�I�m afraid not,� he answered bleakly. �But I think it�s unwise for us to linger here any longer.� He looked up at the night sky in hopes of seeing a glimmer of stars, or, even better, the moonlight. Blackness hovered over them and around them, bringing a disquiet upon the Elf. �Let us return to the others,� he said with an air of urgency to his voice. Taking Miriel by the elbow, he guided her back down into the ravine.

Already, the others were stamping out the remnants of the fire. From the looks of it, they had done this many times before.

Within minutes, they had collected their gear and were trudging up the wall of the ravine. As soon as they reached the road, they marched rather quickly west. Everyone was on high alert, eyeing the darkened forest to their right, as if expecting something or someone to leap out of the shadows at any minute.

They walked all night long, not stopping until the dimness of morning. Once again, thick, grey clouds appeared above, portending rain that would not come.

�Can we stop, please?� asked an exhausted Miriel. Her back was aching and she longed for sleep.

�Yes, we can rest for a while,� replied Aragorn. He too was ready for a break after the night�s long march.

After putting so many miles behind them during the night, they had reached the region along the road where the density of trees on the south side of the road thinned, only to be replaced by crags, thickets, and briars. If Miriel recalled correctly, they were not too far from The Last Bridge. Whether or not they�d reach it by day�s end, she wasn�t sure.

Not wanting to stay on the road, the group was forced to climb up the rocky embankment on the south side of the road in hopes of finding a satisfactory place to rest amidst the hills. They took shelter behind a hillock several yards from the road. Aragorn promised that they would rest for a couple of hours before resuming their trek.

With everyone experiencing exhaustion, Elladan broke out lembas for the first time since leaving Imladris. Though the elvish way bread was meant to invigorate the body and mind, the Slayer actually found herself dozing off as she chewed on her portion. She was that tired.

�Sleep, Miriel,� suggested Elrohir, watching her nod off.

She swallowed what was in her mouth, leaned against the hillside, closed her eyes, and swiftly fell asleep�



Encountering Buffy in the dreamscape, the two Slayers sat atop a large hill set further back than where Miriel and her companions were currently resting.

�God! Another depressing day,� groaned the elder Slayer, frowning at the grey sky above.

�I know,� remarked Miriel, following her mentor�s gaze. �I wish it would rain already.�

�It�d be nice if the sun came out.� She turned her eyes to her prot�g�. �So what�s up with that? How come the sun hasn�t been out for days?�

�I don�t know. It�s not like I have control over such things.� The younger Slayer moaned, falling back onto the mound�s surface.

�I bet you miss Rivendell, don�t cha?� asked Buffy, a small grin creeping to her face.

�Oh, yes. It�s been dreary and o� so cold. I miss sleeping in a warm, soft bed.� She sighed heavily, sitting upright once again. �Do you think there�s something out there?� Miriel asked, shifting her eyes to the north. �Some evil watching us?� she added softly.

Buffy turned her gaze to the north as well. �Probably. The world�s a dangerous place, Miriel. You know that.�

�I reckon you�re right,� she answered. Miriel paused for a moment before asking, �I just wish that if there�s something out there, following us, it would rear its ugly head already. I�m in the mood to kill.� When Buffy didn�t immediately respond, she turned toward her mentor and said, �Is that wrong? Is it wrong that I�m eager to kill?�

�Actually, I prefer the word �slay� over �kill�,� answered Buffy. �And no, it�s not wrong that you feel that way.� She paused, raising her brow in question. �You are talking about slaying the bad guys, right?�

Miriel rolled her eyes. �What - you think I�m going to kill my companions?� she shot back derisively.

�Of course not!� With a snicker, Buffy quickly added, �But I could see you offing your Watcher. He�s such a dick.�

�While I�m not fond of Halbarad, I would not take his life, dick or not!�

�It was a joke, Miriel. Jeez.� The elder Slayer rolled her eyes. �Lighten up, �kay?�

Feeling a sudden chill, the young Slayer began to feverishly rub her arms in an attempt to keep warm. �I hate the cold� and being dirty,� she complained. �I�m beginning to wonder if I�m cut out for this whole Slayer business.�

�Don�t talk that way,� said Buffy. �It�s this lousy weather,� she continued, eyeing their depressing surroundings. �Don�t let it get you down. Hey! Why don�t we go to Sunnydale? A little sunlight will do us both some good.�

Miriel thought that was a good idea. Maybe a bit of sunshine would lift her spirits. However, before she could even get to her feet, she was shaken awake by Aragorn.

�Time to move on, Miriel,� he said, using his softest voice.

�I�ve only just closed my eyes,� she groaned in reply.

�It�s been two hours,� answered the Ranger Chieftain. �Take another bite of lembas. That will help reenergize you.�

The Slayer�s eyes popped open. �I fell asleep after eating some earlier. What makes you think it�ll help this time?�

�Come on, Dagnir,� Aragorn insisted, grabbing Miriel by the arm and heaving her off the ground.

Whimpering softly, the girl forced herself to wake completely. As she stretched her tired and sore back, Elladan thrust a piece of lembas toward her mouth. �Eat it,� he said, tapping her lips with the way bread.

Miriel opened her mouth and let the Elf slip the food into her mouth. She looked up at the gloomy sky, longing to see sunshine. �Why won�t it rain already?� she whined, as she pulled her packs from the ground.

After glancing upwards, Elrohir answered, �Those are not rain clouds.�

�They look like rain clouds to me,� argued Miriel.

�And so the illustrious Slayer now proclaims to be learned in art of weather forecasting,� scoffed Halbarad.

In no mood to deal with the derisive remarks of her Watcher, Miriel shot him a dirty look, and said, �You�re about three seconds away from my fist - �

� - Let�s have none of that,� interjected Elladan, attempting to make peace before the situation escalated. �Hal, keep your comments to yourself. No antagonizing of Miriel today, alright?�

�Only today?� grumbled Miriel under her breath.

�We�re all weary,� the Elf said, shifting his gaze to the Slayer. �Let�s save the fisticuffs for the enemy, shall we?�

Miriel grudgingly agreed before they set off again.

No one spoke for a long while. It seemed that the lack of sunshine and the constant cold wind made everyone miserable. They had taken more breaks today than they had the previous days, perhaps due to the (seemingly) endless marching and lack of sleep. This, of course, hindered the group from reaching the bridge by the day�s end. They were getting close though, as the fog was becoming denser the nearer they got to the river.

The men avoided stepping into the woods that continued to stretch along the north side of the road, preferring to seek refuge amidst the rocky hills to the south. Though the shoulder of the road remained treeless, if one were to travel about a quarter mile, one could see some clusters of stunted trees that dotted the hilly region.

There was no discussion over the matter. Aragorn led the way over the first hill, intent on reaching the spindly trees further south. When they arrived at the area where they would rest for the night, everyone began to gather what wood they could find. The dampness made it much more difficult to get a fire started, but with the aid of the sons of Elrond, they soon had a fire going.

Miriel struggled to keep her eyes open, but once she felt the heat of the fire, she yielded to sleep, choosing that over food.

If she had encountered Buffy during her slumber, she had no memory of it when she awoke.

Of course, the morning proved no different from the previous mornings. The sky remained grey, but now they were surrounded by a thick blanket of fog, which reduced their visibility considerably. After tending to their morning rituals, the group set out again.

�We�ll most definitely reach the bridge today,� said Elladan with an air of relief. �I�d say we�re about six leagues away. Maybe seven.�

The Slayer�s thoughts went back to when she had been alone, when she had first reached that waterway. That seemed like ages ago, when she had rappelled down the cliff�s wall in need of water and slept in the treetops for safety reasons.

Strangely, Miriel felt uneasy this morning. Perhaps the paranoia that the others felt had finally spread to her. No matter, she felt a weird, twisting feeling in the pit of her stomach and her senses seemed more heightened than any time before.

When they reached the road, it seemed that her trepidation grew heavier. The men felt it too. As they briskly walked, (sticking more to the south side of the road), they constantly eyed the woods to their right. Miriel found her gaze shifting upwards, praying that the sun would finally burn through the clouds, thus increasing her visibility and mood.

After some time, she finally asked, �Do you think it�s magic? The clouds, I mean. Do you think it�s some devilry concocted by Sauron?�

Halbarad�s head spun around. �Do not speak that name aloud!� he chastised.

For the first time, Miriel felt a twinge of guilt instead of anger at having her Watcher speak to her in that manner. �Sorry,� she quickly apologized. After several seconds, she added, �I just cannot shake this feeling that some� power has summoned those clouds. I feel ill at ease.�

�For you to now feel ill at ease portends danger, I deem,� replied Elrohir, nervously eyeing the forest once again.

�But what of the clouds?� she asked again. �They are not like the ones that hang over Mordor - �

�Shh!� hushed Halbarad. �Do not speak that name either!�

Miriel couldn�t understand why no one would answer her question. To her, it seemed a plausible thing to ask.

�It is possible,� Elladan finally replied, �but doubtful. Much evil lurks in the world, Miriel. And though the tendrils of the Enemy stretch far and wide, I do not believe he is behind this menace.�

�Then who is?� she persisted. �Certainly trolls do not possess such power, do they?�

�I would think not,� answered the eldest son of Elrond. �I cannot rightly say who is behind this, if anyone at all. Just remain vigilant and prepared for battle, should the need arise.�

With that, Miriel�s right hand immediately clutched the hilt of her sword. Though it was awkward to walk with her hand gripped on her weapon, she felt comforted by feeling the handle in her grasp.

Hour after hour, they marched on in near silence, the road seemingly growing longer. The day was rapidly waning by the time the Elves first spotted the bridge from afar.

�We�re nearly there,� announced Elrohir.

�It is now where we must exercise extreme caution,� said Aragorn, calling for one last break before they approached the bridge.

�I don�t know about you, but I�ve been extremely cautious all day,� answered Miriel, before taking a drink from her water skin. Her mouth felt very dry.

Aragorn feigned a smile. �Then use even more caution, for my heart tells me that danger lingers nearby.� After a quick bite of lembas and a couple of swigs of water, the Ranger Chieftain added, �Stick to the south shoulder of the road.�

The group then resumed their trek. When the Slayer first caught sight of the bridge, her heart began to race. It only seemed logical that if there was to be an ambush of some sort, the bridge looked to be the ideal locale since there was no other way to cross the river for many miles.

When they were about a half mile from the bridge, Elladan stopped and murmured something unintelligible. Pointing toward the ground, he then clearly said, �Look!�

Everyone dashed to the Elf�s side. There, in the dirt, were massive footprints. The size and shape indicated that they obviously had been made by trolls.

Aragorn squatted down beside one of the footprints and gently touched the dirt ridge of one of the tracks. The dirt crumbled at his touch. �Alas! These are fresh,� he revealed, rising to his feet and brushing the soil from his fingers. �It looks like the trolls came through here yesterday.� His eyes followed the tracks toward the woods where the foliage and underbrush had been stamped down by the enormous feet of the creatures. �They came out of the forest there,� he added, nudging his head toward the pathway through the trees.

For several minutes, they stood in silence, listening intently for any sounds. Miriel�s heart pounded in her chest as her eyes frantically searched the fog for the enemy.

�I hear nothing, nor do I smell anything foul,� voiced Elladan with concern. It was the nature of trolls to attack at bridges, as this was the most vulnerable place to ambush weary travelers. The fact that he didn�t smell the beastly creatures only increased his trepidation.

�Then they have crossed the bridge and are waiting on the other side,� said Halbarad, his eyes trying to pierce through the haze that lingered over the terrain.

�What do we do?� Miriel found herself nervously asking.

Aragorn unsheathed his sword, the sound of the metal scrapping against the scabbard seemed to echo throughout the area. �We prepare for battle,� he replied. His eyes went from his blade to Miriel. �It is best that you unsheathe Buffy, and have it at the ready.�

Normally, Miriel would have found it amusing that the Ranger Chieftain referred to her blade as Buffy, but due to the seriousness of the situation, she merely followed his command. Halbarad too had his weapon at the ready, while the sons of Elrond chose to arm themselves with their bows.

The group formed a line as they warily began to cross the bridge. Miriel expected the trolls to attack when they reached the midway point. As her mouth went dry, and her heart pounded so hard that she could hear its beating in her ears, she spun around, half-expecting the trolls to close in around them on both sides.

She cursed the fog. Though the winds continued to blow out of the south, the mists merely moved along with the current. Resuming her position, she walked slowly with her companions. Every now and again, the wisps of fog lessened, but only a moment later, the density returned, obscuring the visibility of all except for maybe the twins.

The Slayer clutched the hilt of her weapon so hard that her hand was turning white. Already, her palm felt sweaty in anticipation of a sudden attack.

They reached the other side of the bridge without incident, though that did not lessen anyone�s anxiety.

�Something�s amiss,� remarked Elladan gravely. �Trolls are notorious for ambushing people at bridges, yet these did not. There�s something more diabolical at work here.�

�What do you mean?� asked Miriel, nervously looking around for any sight of the enemy.

�They�re drawing us out, for some reason or another,� replied Aragorn, narrowing his eyes, as he shifted his gaze to the footprints in the earth.

�Why?� the Slayer asked, troubled that these trolls were not demonstrating normal troll behavior.

�I don�t know,� replied the Ranger Chieftain, deeply disturbed by the whole scenario.

�We should continue on,� suggested Elrohir. �Be on guard.�

�Any idea of how many trolls we�re looking at, Aragorn?� queried Halbarad, his eyes scanning the footprints on the roadway.

�It�s difficult to say,� he sighed in response. �The trolls have walked over each others tracks, making it hard to determine their numbers. Let us hope there are only a few wandering about.�

�Let�s get a move on before it grows too dark,� repeated Elrohir.

The terrain changed for good once they had left the bridge. No longer were there any woods to their north. Instead, the road ran between rolling hills of mostly rock. The wind howled eerily over the hillsides, rustling withered, wild grasses and weeds that grew out of the fissures.

Having now become the hunted, the group moved along slowly, their eyes desperately searching the mists for any sign of the enemy.

Elladan, who was walking beside Miriel, whispered, �Look for the enemy to our north.�

�How do you know that?� the Slayer uttered in reply. Instinctively, her eyes darted north, watching for any movement within the fog.

�The wind acts as our enemy,� he murmured, �carrying away the stench of the trolls, and leaving nary a trace of their foulness behind.�

�We Elves were blessed with, not only a keen sense of eyesight, but also a keen sense of smell,� added Elrohir. He inhaled deeply. �I smell no troll reek. That is an ill sign.�

They warily continued on. The anticipation of being attacked at any minute was horrible. Miriel wished that the trolls would go ahead and ambush them. At least that way, they could battle it out. They had gone maybe another half mile or so when the hair on the nape of her neck suddenly stood on end, and a prickly sensation coursed through her body, portending danger.

Miriel�s right arm and wrist were already aching from the heaviness of her weapon, as she scanned the north side of the road, searching for the enemy that she knew was nearby. With each step, that feeling of dread dramatically increased to the point where she lifted her blade, drawing the attention of her companions.

The blanket of fog had turned to thin wisps, allowing for a few moments of better visibility. They had reached an area where the hills had arced away from the road, forming a horseshoe-shaped opening. Many, large, moss-covered boulders dotted the clearing.

Beads of sweat formed on her forehead, and the coldness of late afternoon caused her to shudder. It was then that Miriel realized that those were no boulders, but trolls hunkered down, waiting to strike.

�Trolls!� she screeched before taking off, charging the creatures of Morgoth at full speed. The others shouted for her to come back, but it was too late. The trolls, seeing that they had now been discovered, sprang to their feet, looking twice the size of the Slayer and her companions.

Miriel�s eyes widened when she saw that these beasts appeared much different than the trolls she had encountered previously. They didn�t have the �mannish� qualities like the two she had fought. They looked more like broad pillars of stone than anything else. Their greenish-grey hides were covered with animal skins that had been crudely sewn together. In their monstrous hands, each brandished a wooden club that more closely resembled the bole of a tree.

There were a couple of quick pinging sounds, and two arrows went whizzing by either side of Miriel�s head. The sons of Elrond, believing that the Slayer had acted in haste, were hoping to incapacitate the troll she was rapidly nearing.

Both elven bolts struck the beast, one over each breast. The troll half-growled, half-grunted, snapping the foreign objects that protruded from its flesh. The stench of the creature�s putrid breath nearly caused Miriel to fall over. No words could describe the foulness of it. Seeing as the troll had to be around fourteen feet tall, she thought the best way to take it down was to go after its legs.

The irritated beast swung its club at the Slayer. She dove down, feeling the swish of air over her head as she swung her blade, striking the troll just below its knee. Her sword cut through the beast�s scaly hide, embedding into its bone. The creature groaned in pain, and dropped down onto its knees, which caused the earth to tremble with the impact. As a result, Miriel was thrust toward the troll, as she feverishly tried to pry her weapon free.

The creature stretched out its long, thick arm, wrapping his enormous fingers around the Slayer�s throat. He tightened his grip. Her eyes bulged, as she felt herself being lifted off the ground. The troll then began to raise his weapon in preparation of knocking her head off her body.

Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion, though in actuality, everything was occurring very fast. From behind, she could hear the shouts of her companions as they joined the fray. A thick cloud of fog rolled across the terrain, temporarily obscuring, not only Miriel�s view, but also that of the troll.

Instinctively, Miriel�s hands went to the troll�s hand, in a desperate attempt to break his hold before she passed out from lack of oxygen. Dangling in midair, she kicked at the beast, her blows having no effect whatsoever on the creature. As her vision began to dim, she heard a cry from behind. Only a second later, she fell to the ground with the troll�s massive hand still wrapped around her neck, though its grip had loosened. A blurry figure then leapt between her and the wounded beast. Gasping for breath, Miriel pulled the severed hand from her neck. Blood streamed from the hacked off portion of the limb. As she scooted away from the skirmish, she heard the troll that she had been fighting fall to the earth with a thunderous thud.

The figure spun around. Aragorn had been the one to come to her rescue. �Are you alright?� he asked, hurriedly pulling her to her feet.

�Yeah,� she breathed heavily, deeply embarrassed and ashamed that in her eagerness she had put herself in a potentially fatal situation.

Before the Slayer had a chance to get her bearings, Aragorn flung her aside, preventing yet another troll from squashing her with its club.

Although Miriel had maintained her grasp on the hilt of her sword when she was hurled to the ground, the rocky floor had shaved the skin off her knuckles. Wincing in pain, she clambered back to her feet, wanting to do her part in the battle.

The trolls� constant stomping sounded like thunder and the ground shook violently with their every footfall. For a brief moment or two, Miriel glimpsed the enemy�s numbers and, sadly, it appeared that they outnumbered her and her friends by at least four to one. All things considered, those were not very good odds, considering the size of their foes.

Miriel jumped back into the fracas, trying her best to help reduce the numbers of the enemy so that she and the Rangers would have a chance of coming out of the fight alive.

Things seemed to go from bad to worse as more trolls popped out from behind the hills, stamping madly toward the road so that they could encircle the warriors.

While the sons of Elrond had successfully shot several foes, they, unfortunately, had a limited number of flying projectiles.

�My quiver is empty!� informed Elrohir through clenched teeth, now forced to draw his sword. Like his mortal companions, he had to resort to going after the trolls� legs instead of delivering potentially fatal shots from his bow.

Elladan then sent his last arrow, striking a particularly nasty troll in the throat. As the beast reached for the feathered shaft protruding from his neck, Halbarad leapt out of a patch of fog, swinging his blade, which cut through the troll�s thigh like butter. Black blood sprayed from the stump of the creature, as it teetered on the spot for a second or two, before crashing to the ground with a loud boom.

The situation looked bleak. The trolls had now formed a circle around the five warriors, standing shoulder to shoulder. Several of their brethren lay dead, their enormous bodies taking up much needed fighting space for the Rangers.

Then, over the din, a howl-grunt-like cry came from hilltops, causing everyone, trolls and mortals alike, to shift their gaze toward the sound. Surrounded by wisps of fog was yet another troll, standing atop the highest mound. While as tall as his cohorts, this one was of broader-build and garbed in leather. Even its bald, round head was covered in a cap of leather. In its left hand, it wielded a spiked club, which was held aloft over his beastly head. It let out a single, deep grunt, immediately causing his fellow trolls to fall silent.

Miriel surmised that this troll had to be the leader. It then locked its eyes on her. Instantly, a cold, paralyzing chill ran throughout the Slayer�s body, freezing her to her spot. The troll captain then made a series of short, grunting sounds that appeared to be his way of communicating with his comrades.

All the trolls then shifted their gaze to Miriel, bringing about a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

�I think they�re talking about you,� whispered Elladan anxiously, as he and the Rangers began to form a ring with their backs toward one another.

�You think?� the Slayer gulped in reply. Somewhat surprised that she was able to say anything, she tried desperately to put up a brave front, though her body had begun to tremble all over.

All the trolls kept their eyes fixed on Miriel. Not a second later, they raised their clubs menacingly and charged � all heading for the Slayer. Horror-stricken, she stared at the large leather-clad troll flying down the hillside.

�Find your courage, Dagnir. We need you,� commanded Halbarad, his tone riddled with fear and despair.

We�re going to die, Miriel thought in dismay. And it�s all my fault. If only I had waited for one of the more experienced men to lead the charge. Their blood is on my hands.

�Snap out of it, Miriel!� shouted Elladan, nudging her back to her senses. �We need your strength to help fend off the enemy.�

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Miriel regained her composure and prepared for the onslaught.

�Let�s kill us some trolls,� added Elrohir, determined to fight it out to the death.

�Never surrender!� shouted Aragorn before raising his blade and rushing the wall of trolls that were rapidly closing in around them.

The noise of a horde of stampeding trolls would forever be engrained in Miriel�s mind. Even though she had her weapon at the ready, her hope had diminished, for she could see no way that five people could take out dozens of these monstrous beasts.

Then, from out of the mists came a horn blast, a long, sweet note that instantly renewed hope in the warriors and cast doubt into the stone hearts of the enemy. The Rangers from the North had arrived in the nick of time. The thunderous footfalls of the trolls had drowned out all sounds of the galloping horses.

There was no time to offer any words of greeting (or gratitude) to their northern kinsmen, as the fighting had once again resumed. Regardless, the timely arrival of the Rangers helped to divert the attention of many of the trolls nearest to the roadway.

Though the Slayer could hear a symphony of pinging bow strings, she was much too busy to see if the newly arrived Rangers were successfully hitting their targets. She was confronted by two monstrous trolls that were trying to beat her to death with their mammoth clubs. It seemed that Miriel had established a pattern of duck, dive and roll to avoid being struck. Wielding two blades now, she slashed at the flesh of the trolls� trunk-like legs whenever she managed to dodge one of their blows.

Unbeknownst to her, several Rangers were trying to take out the troll captain. The leader of the beasts had been hit by several flying projectiles, mostly around his face and neck, but unfortunately, that had barely slowed him down. The leather-clad creature had now entered the clearing, swinging his spiked club at anything that moved. Perhaps his actions were due to his injuries, or maybe luck was on the side of the Rangers, for the troll captain had taken down a couple of his own comrades, the barbs of his weapon penetrating their hides. Black blood rained down upon those closest to the scuffle, most coming from the spines of the troll captain�s weapon.

When the creature realized what he had done, he let out a frightful bellow. Its rancid breath felt like a sudden gust out of the north. Through the mists, the troll captain once again raised his club, his beady eyes searching for one from the race of man.

He then noticed Miriel, of whom he had temporarily lost sight, between her rolling and diving amongst the trolls. Gnashing his teeth like some rabid beast, he came barreling toward her. The Rangers on horseback tried to stop the troll captain by shooting him with arrows, many of which had pierced his flesh.

The Slayer, who rolled out of yet another dive, looked around only to find herself squatted between the legs of another troll. Both she and the creature realized at the same time that he could easily squash her to death by merely sitting on her. As she started to crawl out from beneath him, the troll began to lower his body. When Miriel found herself in the clear, she turned. The stupid beast was still sinking toward the ground. She rammed the blade, which she wielded with her left hand, deep into the creature�s most vulnerable spot - his nether regions, the metal easily penetrating the scaly hide. The troll let out a painful wail, yet his body continue to drop. The Slayer had no other choice but to let go of her weapon or risk both her wrist and arm turning into a gooey paste from the trolls weight.

Only a second later, her attention was turned to the troll captain, his club already swinging down toward her. She managed to roll to the side, feeling the whoosh of air as the club struck the ground beside her, renting the earth. She sprang onto her feet in one fluid motion, waving the one blade in her hand, ready to fight the Big Bad, as Buffy would call him.

Before she had a chance to deliver any type of blow, she heard Halbarad cry, �Miriel! Watch out!� Her Watcher, seeing that the troll she had hit in the nether regions had not been incapacitated, only pissed off, had swung its club at her. Halbarad, seeing that the weapon was going to make contact, shoved the girl out of harm�s way. What would have been a fatal blow, instead struck Miriel�s right arm, cracking it upon impact. The pain was instant. The blade in her dominant hand went flying from her grasp, and hit a horse that had just come into the area in its left front ankle.

The sudden jolt of pain caused the horse to buck its rider from its back, sending him into the path between the troll captain and the Slayer. Halbarad then dove on top of Miriel, intent on protecting her from friend and foe alike. Unbeknownst to the Watcher, he had submerged the girl�s face in a puddle of troll blood, nearly drowning her.

Not having expected Halbarad to do what he did, Miriel swallowed a mouthful of the vile life force of the trolls, gagging when she managed to pull her head inches up from the pool. She struggled beneath her Watcher, whimpering, not only from the pain that was radiating up her right arm, but also from her eyes, which burned like hell fire. She rubbed her face against Halbarad�s cloak and hair, the only things she was able to use since both of her arms were still pinned beneath the weight of the man.

When the Watcher realized what he had done, he eased up off the Slayer, still shielding her with his own body as he began to pull her away from the troll captain. He could see that her right arm was mangled, twisted in the wrong direction. He quickly grabbed part of his cloak, using the cloth to wipe away the blackness streaked across her face.

Crying now, Miriel rolled to her side, cradling her injured arm. As she blinked away the haze from her eyes, she watched in horror as the troll captain�s club struck the Ranger that had fallen off the horse. An ear-shattering shriek reverberated throughout the region as the barbs pierced the man�s flesh in many places, lifting him off his feet, and flinging him several yards through the air. His battered body crashed into the hillside, bouncing wildly down to the base of the mound.

The Slayer couldn�t tell if the Ranger lay dead or not. She became blinded with tears, as Halbarad dragged her away from the melee.

After having seen one of their own taken down, the other Rangers� ire became inflamed. The sons of Elrond were the ones credited with killing the troll captain, having hacked his body into several pieces. A few trolls, seeing that their doom lie near, took off down the road, running toward the bridge in hope of fleeing the enraged men. Several Rangers rode in pursuit, slaying the creatures on the roadway, well before they reached the bridge.

Once the situation with the trolls had been contained (they would all be annihilated), Aragorn, Elladan, Elrohir, and several others ran over to their wounded kin. Arvellas was the one who had been stricken by the troll captain. Not only were there massive holes in his body, but hunks of meaty tissue hung out of the shredded parts of his garments, which were covered in his own blood. He whimpered, suffering horribly from his injuries.

A tearful Aragorn was desperate to aid his ailing friend. He ripped the cloak from his back, trying to staunch the flow of blood from numerous wounds that covered Arvellas� torso. It was for nil, for Arvellas� injuries would be fatal. His ribs had been broken in several places, and the spikes had pierced many of his vital organs.

He locked eyes with Aragorn and, with his last breath, uttered, �If only� I could� see you� become king.� Arvellas then died. His lifeless eyes remained fixed on his Captain. With tears rolling down his blood streaked face, Aragorn closed his friend�s eyes, dismayed by the loss of one whom was dear to his heart�