Sad Wings of Destiny

�Arvellas was a good man,� said Elladan sadly. �But now we should tend to the living, Aragorn, for there are those that are wounded and in need of healing.�

Aragorn took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled. He nodded, quickly wiping his tears away with the sleeve of his sweater. Glancing around, through the mists, he saw the carnage left behind from battle. From what he could see, only troll carcasses littered the area. �Elrohir, will you check on the injured?�

�Of course,� replied the youngest son of Elrond, immediately disappearing from the grieving man�s side.

�Are you alright?� asked a concerned Elladan, knowing how deeply Aragorn cared for Arvellas.

�I will be,� answered the Ranger Chieftain solemnly. Over the voices of his kinsmen, Aragorn could hear the faint, whimpering cries of Miriel. �Dagnir is hurt,� he said, rising to his feet, along with Elladan. The two then followed the sound.

When they came across the Slayer and her Watcher, both men stopped. They were stunned to see Halbarad comforting Miriel in a way that neither man had ever witnessed before. They could only hope that this tragic incident would act as the catalyst to heal the strained relationship between Miriel and Halbarad.

Aragorn and Elladan approached the duo. Crouching down beside them, the Ranger Chieftain could see Miriel cradling her right arm. �What has happened here?� he asked, his eyes shifting to Halbarad.

�Her arm is broken,� replied the Watcher, still holding the Slayer in his arms.

�Did it break through the skin?� asked Elladan, squatting beside an injured Miriel.

�Thank the Valar, no,� replied Halbarad. �We�ll need a splint, and something for the pain.�

Miriel tried to put up a brave front, but silent tears continued to stream down her face.

�It will be alright, Miriel,� said Aragorn. �Let me take a look.� He reached for her arm, but the girl shrank away, continuing to cradle her injured limb protectively. �Please,� he uttered, locking his glassy eyes with the Slayer.

The Slayer relented. Turning her head, she buried her face in her Watcher�s chest, not even wanting to look at her swollen arm. She winced as the Ranger Chieftain examined her injury.

�The arm is surely broken,� concluded Aragorn. �We�ll need to set it so the bone can properly mend.�

�But what can we use as a splint?� asked a concerned Halbarad. �There is no wood nearby.�

�Then we shall have to find some,� replied Aragorn, getting to his feet, eager to check on the others.

�I have some tonic in one of my bags that will help reduce the pain,� informed Elladan, looking around the area. �That is if my bags haven�t been buried beneath troll corpses.�

As the Elf Lord disappeared, a golden-haired Ranger strode up to Aragorn, who still stood near Miriel and Halbarad.

�Well met,� said Aragorn gratefully, embracing his fellow Ranger. �Tell me, G�ron: how did you know where to find us?�

�Gandalf,� replied the warrior.

Despite her pain, Miriel�s head spun toward the men when she heard mention of the Wizard�s name.

�We ran into him two days ago. He told us that danger awaited you near the Last Bridge, so we rode as fast as we could, hoping we�d reach you in time,� reported the golden-haired D�nadan.

�Bless him,� uttered the Ranger Chieftain. �Your timing could not have been any better, my friend. And I must thank Gandalf the next time I see him.�

�His business has taken him elsewhere, but you know how Gandalf is � he seems to show up when our need is greatest.�

Despite the tragedy that had taken place, Aragorn softly chuckled under his breath, knowing that G�ron had spoken no truer words.

Aragorn then took off. G�ron then looked at both Watcher and Slayer. �You alright, Hal?� he asked.

�We will be,� answered the Watcher.

The golden-haired D�nadan gave a quick nod of his head before he turned and joined his kinsmen in doing their appointed tasks. Like a well-oiled machine, the Rangers broke up into smaller groups. Some were preparing the troll corpses for burning by dousing them with oil, while others traveled up the road and across the bridge to find much needed wood.

After several minutes, Elladan returned, carrying his packs. �We�re in luck, Miriel,� he said. �My bags were not damaged and I have something here to help with the pain.� He revealed a small corked bottle in his hand. He popped the top and then handed the Slayer the bottle. �One sip should do it.�

Miriel did as instructed, thanking the Elf for the much needed tonic. He then left. A few minutes later, she began to feel dopey and her entire body started to go numb.

The Slayer couldn�t clearly recall how much time had passed when Aragorn returned with the sons of Elrond by his side. They brought items to take care of her arm. Her splint was made from two sticks placed on either side of her arm, which was then wrapped tightly with bandages. Aragorn then carefully placed her arm in a sling that he had made from some spare cloth. He smeared some ointment over her knuckles and covered them with a strip of clean cloth.

�There,� he said, once he had finished. �How�s that, Miriel?�

�Fine. Thank you.� Miriel was feeling pretty good from the medicine, and as she watched fires spring up all around her, she wondered what would happen next. Surely, she couldn�t fight in her current state, especially with her strongest arm broken. While she could wield a weapon with her left hand, she didn�t have the same control as she did with her dominant arm. Considering her injury, and how little use she would be in any type of combat situation, she assumed that she would return to Rivendell to recuperate. That only made sense. Elrond had told her to consider Imladris her home, and, at that moment, that�s exactly where she wanted to be. Even thoughts of seeing Glorfindel again didn�t bother her in the slightest.

Miriel closed her eyes and became lost in her thoughts of returning to Rivendell. She pictured the kindly Elves, the food, her warm bed, and hot, steamy baths with perfumed water. It was such a lovely thought, especially the bathing part. She hadn�t had a bath since departing the elven realm several days ago. The sudden change in topic by her companions disrupted the lovely imagery.

�I think Miriel should be taken back to Imladris until her arm heals,� suggested Elladan. �It seems rather pointless to keep her on the road, given the circumstances.�

�I agree,� said Elrohir, thinking that Miriel would heal faster if taken back to the realm of his people.

Though Halbarad was Miriel�s Watcher, Aragorn was their leader, and it was to him that everyone looked for the final say. He remained quiet, staring intently at Miriel, wondering if she had fallen asleep or was in some blissful state from the medicine.

�Chances are we will not see combat for a while,� chimed in Halbarad, feeling that he needed to voice his opinion before any final decision could be made. �Slayers are known for their rapid healing abilities. I say we continue on our journey. I deem Miriel would be effective in battle even with only one arm.�

The twins were aghast at the suggestion. �That is foolishness!� blurted out Elladan in disgust. Glowering at Halbarad, he hastily added, �Should we see combat, Miriel�s injury could be worsened, considerably.�

�How heartless can you be, Hal?� said Elrohir. �It is folly to risk worsening Miriel�s injury by staying on the road.�

�You do not understand the healing abilities of a Slayer,� contested the Watcher. �It will not take long for her arm to heal.�

�You have no proof of that!� interjected Elladan heatedly. �You�re merely going by the lore of your � �

� � It�s written in the Watcher Diaries!� exclaimed Halbarad. �And it is I that possess these books, not you!�

�The lore of your forefathers is limited, at best,� added Elrohir. �Most of those journals have been lost!�

�Exactly how long has it been, Hal since the Council of Watchers has wielded the power of the Slayer?� queried Elladan sharply. �You and your Council have been incapable of even finding the Slayer. If not for Miriel seeking you, you would not even know of her existence!�

To that, Halbarad could make no reply. He sat there, simmering quietly, knowing that Elladan was right.

Everyone now looked to Aragorn, who had remained quiet throughout the fiery exchange. �What say you, Estel?� asked Elladan, the tone of his voice much calmer as he addressed the Ranger Chieftain.

Aragorn continued to stare silently at Miriel. Though her eyes remained closed, she couldn�t help but hear the conversation taking place. At that point, she felt no need to comment, since the twins� arguments for her to return to Rivendell seemed sound to her.

�I think it would be in the best interest of all if Miriel goes to Archet with Halbarad,� said Aragorn, his eyes remaining locked on the Slayer. He couldn�t help but notice her face twitch after making his comment. �I believe that it�s important for Miriel to mend, not only her broken bone but also her relationship with her Watcher. I think they need to do this without interference from others.� The Ranger Chieftain shifted his eyes to the sons of Elrond.

�Mark my words, Aragorn: you will have a dead Watcher on your hands if you send the two of them away,� uttered Elladan under his breath. He knew how volatile the Slayer-Watcher relationship had been, and it seemed absurd to send the two away alone together.

�Need I remind you that we�ve already suffered such a loss. Arvellas lies not yards away, dead,� replied the miffed Ranger Chieftain. �Let us not speak of anyone else dying.�

�I was not referring to Arvellas, and you know that,� said Elladan. �I think it unwise for Miriel to go off with Halbarad, considering their past.�

�I see this as an opportunity to heal the rift between myself and Miriel,� voiced Halbarad, agreeing with his Captain. �Some time away from everybody else will do us some good.�

Miriel�s eyes suddenly popped open. �Do I have no say in this matter?� she queried dopily. �I think that I should have some input, wouldn�t you agree?�

Cocking his head, the Ranger Chieftain asked, �What is your will then?�

�I�d like to go back to Rivendell,� she answered without hesitation. �There is no better place to go for one in need of healing, and Lord Elrond is a master healer, after all.�

By the look on Aragorn�s face, one would�ve thought that Miriel had suggested they go to Mordor. If possible, the Ranger Chieftain�s expression grew grimmer, the frown lines on his ruggedly handsome face becoming more pronounced. �Long we have stayed in Rivendell,� he said softly. �Overly long, if you ask me. There my love awaits� And if I were to return, it would delay that which my heart desires, prolonging my destiny to reclaim what my forefathers have lost.� Aragorn�s tone was riddled with pain; an air of sadness emanated from his very essence.

Of course, the son of Arathorn was referring to Arwen and his bid to reclaim the kingship of both Gondor and Arnor � the one obstacle that stood in his way of his marriage to his true love.

While Miriel understood that love seemed rare for a Ranger, love between a Man and an Elf was even rarer. None of her companions had a wife, not even Elladan or Elrohir.

�You need not come,� whispered Miriel in reply, her heart aching for the Captain.

�That is true,� he answered, speaking in that same, sorrow-filled voice. �But my heart tells me that should you return to the land of the Elder, the rift between you and Halbarad will deepen, for you will lose yourself in the company of the Elves. I�m not saying that is an evil thing, but it should be avoided, for now.�

The Slayer found herself at a loss for words. It seemed that Aragorn�s remarks had some underlying meaning that she did not comprehend. Perhaps his words were, in some way, prophetic. She watched Elladan and Elrohir bow their heads, seemingly accepting Aragorn�s pronouncement.

Feeling that she had no other choice, the Slayer tried to choke back the tears that were forming in her eyes and nodded in agreement.

Aragorn then shifted his gaze to Halbarad. �You will need to take the fastest road to Archet. Take Arvellas� horse, for he is quick-footed and will hasten your trip.�

Halbarad nodded and rose to his feet, intent on following his Captain�s orders.

Miriel�s jaw dropped. �You mean for us to leave now?� she queried in disbelief.

�The sooner you leave, the better,� replied Aragorn.

�But� but� that horse is injured,� she argued, recalling how her own blade had hit the horse in the ankle.

�The wound was superficial and Thalion is fit for travel.�

None too eager to depart right then and there, Miriel continued to voice her protest. �It�s dark! And� and the likelihood that more trolls lie in wait further down the road seems quite possible.�

�Which is all the more reason for you to leave now,� pressed Aragorn. �It may have escaped your notice, Miriel, but the trolls were after you. You were their target. Until we can figure things out, such as who was behind all this, you need to be taken somewhere safe.�

�What about safety in numbers?� she cried out. �We�ll be safer as long as we�re all together. Sending me and Halbarad out there � alone � is madness! It�s� its suicide!�

�You�re being overly dramatic, Miriel. Thalion can outrun any troll � �

� � And what of wargs and Orcs?� she interjected in her fury. �Can he outrun them? Can he outrun arrows or spears or, or hurling axes?�

�He has thus far,� replied Aragorn calmly.

�Come now, Estel,� spoke up Elrohir. �I see no harm in Miriel and Hal leaving at first light tomorrow. It is highly unlikely that we�ll be under attack again tonight. I do not understand the need to send them away so soon.�

�I feel it�s for the best, Elrohir,� answered the Ranger Chieftain, unwavering in his decision. �You�re welcome to ride along with them, if that�s your will.�

�This sounds like ill-counsel to me,� grumbled Elladan, agreeing with his twin.

�I�m holding no one here captive. All are free to come and go as they wish,� declared Aragorn. �I�m merely doing what I think is best, for all us.� He then turned back to Miriel. �Your stay in Archet won�t be long. If what Hal says is true about Slayers healing swiftly, you�ll be rejoining us in no time. But we need you at your best, Miriel. Our numbers are so very little as it is. We cannot afford to lose anyone else.�

Reminded once again of Arvellas� death, a pang of guilt shot through Miriel�s heart. Had she already forgotten about the Ranger (and apparent Watcher) that lay dead not far away from where she sat? And who was she to not trust the judgment of one who would one day be king of her people? For even the Elves revered Aragorn and had complete faith in him.

�Alright,� she finally said, feeling defeated in more ways than one.

�Thank you, Miriel,� answered Aragorn with a sigh of relief.

Only a minute later, Halbarad returned, leading Thalion by the reins. He had also found Miriel�s baggage, which she had slipped off her arms at the onset of battle.

�Let me help you,� said Aragorn, rising to his feet and assisting Miriel to hers.

She looked the Ranger Captain in the eye and uttered, �I�m sorry. I�m sorry for causing Arvellas� death.�

�You did no such thing,� insisted Aragorn. �People die in battle.�

�But, if I hadn�t led the charge, none of this would�ve happened,� she argued, feeling her eyes well with tears yet again.

�That is not true,� replied the Ranger Chieftain, putting a hand comfortingly on Miriel�s shoulder. �Look around you, Miriel. We�ve lost one. And though I grieve the loss of Arvellas, whom I loved dearly, the enemy has paid greatly for that. Nary a troll escaped! Do not burden yourself with blame.� He leaned forward, kissing Miriel on the forehead. He then whispered, �You take care of yourself and Halbarad. We�ll see you soon.� He gave her arm one last reassuring squeeze before releasing his hold.

To the Slayer, it felt as if she was saying her last farewell. With her bottom lip beginning to quiver, Aragorn stepped aside and the sons of Elrond took his place.

�You take care, Miriel,� said Elladan, offering her a smile. �We�ll see you in a few weeks, alright?�

She nodded.

The eldest son of Elrond then pulled her into an embrace, causing her right arm to suddenly throb. Ignoring the pain, she wrapped her good arm tightly around the Elf Lord. She felt her tears trickling down her cheeks.

Elladan then stepped away and Elrohir hugged the Slayer. �Heal quickly, Dagnir. When you�re better we�ll embark on a new adventure and will make the enemy fear your name.�

Once again, all she could do was nod. She felt that if she had tried to talk, she�d start sobbing, uncontrollably. And, at that moment, that was the last thing she wanted to do.

�Oi!� shouted another Ranger, waving at the small group. They all turned to see one of their kinsmen briskly approaching. In his hands were two swords. �You don�t want to leave without Dagnir�s weapons,� he said. �They�re notched in a few places, but they�re still in fine shape.�

�Thank you, Damrod,� replied Aragorn, taking the blades from his fellow Ranger. The son of Arathorn then slipped the swords into Miriel�s scabbards. �You do not want to leave without these.�

The Slayer mouthed the words, �thank you� since her voice seemed to not be working. Halbarad then helped her up onto the horse, allowing her to sit on the saddle. He then climbed on behind her, having to carry all of their baggage plus manning the reins.

�Farewell!� he said, before weaving Thalion through the obstacle course of flaming corpses. The others watched until Watcher and Slayer became lost in the thickening fog.

�Whilst I do not know Dagnir as you all do, for some reason, my heart aches at her parting,� remarked Damrod, as she and Halbarad disappeared. ��Tis a strange thing, I know,� he added with a shrug.

�No, not at all,� replied Elrohir with a heavy heart. �Miriel has that way with people, I deem. She has a good heart and a strong will.�

�That she does,� agreed Elladan. �My heart aches too at her parting, Damrod, for I�d rather she be here with us.�

�It is for the best,� uttered Aragorn. �Miriel must heal, and learn to trust Halbarad.�

�Do you think such a thing possible?� queried Elladan, raising his brow in doubt.

�I think we�ve just witnessed the first step only minutes ago.� Aragorn paused. �I hope you will come to understand why I did what I did. If Miriel does not learn to trust Hal, our group will begin to fracture. Without trust, we�re doomed. Miriel must learn that.� The Ranger Chieftain took a deep breath, adding, �That, and the rules of engagement. That�s where I failed her. We�ve trained her to be a warrior, but failed to teach her our methods of attack. I shan�t make that mistake again.� A grim-faced Aragorn then wandered off, leaving the others behind.

�Now my heart aches for our Captain as well,� said Damrod. �He need not feel guilty.�

�Give him time,� answered Elrohir, as he started to walk off. �Give him time.�

He, Elladan and Damrod then rejoined their fellow Rangers, cleaning up what was left of the battle with the trolls.



Miriel and Halbarad had traveled many miles when the Watcher suddenly called Thalion to a halt. After slipping off the back of the steed, the Ranger said, �Wait here until I come back. Should you hear me shout � flee! Ride as fast as you can to Amon S�l.�

The Slayer, whose mind was somewhat hazy from a combination of both the medicine and exhaustion, looked down at her Watcher with half-opened eyes. �Wait. What?� she asked, unsure of what he had just said.

Halbarad tried to keep his annoyance in check. �I�m going to see if any are by the lake. Wait here until I return.�

�But didn�t you say something about riding to Amon S�l?�

�Only� if� I� shout,� he said, no longer concealing his annoyance. �If the enemy is by the lake, then you must ride on to Weathertop. Aragorn and the others will be traveling there once they�ve finished with their tasks.� He unsheathed his blade. �Wait here.�

�Alright.� She watched as Halbarad slowly disappeared from sight. She sat there, trying to process her Watcher�s comments. After several seconds, comprehension dawned on her. Now she knew exactly where they were. Her heart fluttered with excitement as her eyes darted to the stone wall beside the pass in the hills. She searched for the dwarvish runes that she knew had been etched into the rocky face long ago. Miriel felt comforted when her eyes fell upon the dwarvish script. While she couldn�t read the writing of the Naugrim, she knew that the words informed their kinsmen that water laid at the end of the pathway. She would love nothing more than to see the Dwarves again, particularly the ones she had met months earlier.

She listened intently for any sound from Halbarad. She grabbed hold of the reins that hung loosely in front of her, in case she and Thalion had to bolt from the scene. The waiting was horrible. Miriel knew it didn�t take long to walk down the pathway to the lake. What on earth could be taking Halbarad so long? Of course, being in this situation made her think unpleasant thoughts. Maybe her Watcher had been captured and gagged � or worse.

Feeling that too much time had passed without any sign from Halbarad, Miriel decided to follow. She nudged Thalion forward along the path between the hills. The horses� hooves clunked on the rocky track. Though the fog had thinned the further west they traveled, wisps of the moist mist still floated eerily over the terrain.

When Thalion finally stepped into the clearing, Miriel spotted Halbarad some yards away, relieving himself. Perhaps he sensed her presence for he glanced over his shoulder, looked directly at her, and then started cursing up a storm.

�Damn it, Miriel!� he growled, as he finished his business. �Why can�t you listen? I told you to wait for me.�

�I was worried that something had happened to you,� she replied, keeping her cool.

Unsure whether or not Miriel was lying, Halbarad did not immediately answer.

�I�ll go back if you want,� she added, steering Thalion around.

�No, no,� answered the Watcher. He turned and faced her. �Ride on down to the lake,� he said. �Thalion�s probably thirsty and we need to refill our water skins before resuming our journey.�

The Slayer obediently followed Halbarad�s orders. They met at the lakeside, where the Ranger helped her off the steed. He led Thalion to the water�s edge, allowing the horse to drink to his heart�s content.

Not overly fond of riding, Miriel began to walk off the stiffness in her legs and backside while Halbarad filled their bottles. She wandered over to the old willow tree. A smile came to her face as she recalled the Dwarf, Gimli, dangling upside down after having sprung her trap months ago.

Maybe ten minutes had passed when Halbarad said it was time to go. A part of Miriel wanted to stay, to relax by the lake. She felt safe here. But, alas, that was not to be.

They rode on for several more hours, the Slayer dozing off and on throughout that leg of their trip. When they finally stopped, Miriel�s legs were numb. As she climbed off Thalion, her legs gave out and she would�ve toppled to the ground if Halbarad hadn�t caught her. They rested amidst the hilly region for a couple of hours before setting out once again.



The following evening, they reached Amon S�l. Halbarad had decided that they�d stop there for the night. Poor Thalion was exhausted and drenched in sweat. The Ranger felt that the beast needed the rest, especially since he was carrying so much extra weight.

They left the road, riding along the western slope of Weathertop. Miriel thought they might return to the hollow on the north side of the hill, but because of the darkening sky and the rough, uneven terrain, Halbarad thought the path was too perilous for Thalion to take. Instead, they took refuge between the shoulders of two slopes running down the west side of Amon S�l. At least, the rocky ridge would protect them from the frigid wind that continued to blow out of the south.

Halbarad took first watch, giving Miriel the opportunity to sleep since she was injured. Wrapping herself in her blanket, she lay beside the shoulder of the hill, closed her eyes, and fell asleep almost instantly.

A dull, persistent ache in her arm woke her only a couple of hours later. Opening her eyes, she could see the shadowy form of Thalion standing nearby, his tail whooshing back and forth like the pendulum of a clock. Halbarad was seated beside her, puffing on his pipe. The fog that haunted them for days had finally dissipated, and the clear night sky was blanketed with numerous glimmering stars.

Halbarad must have noticed Miriel moving out of the corner of his eye. �Up already?� he asked, still staring straight ahead.

�My arm hurts,� she said, her voice sounding raspy. She protectively cradled her injury though that didn�t lessen the pain.

�Well, let�s see what we can do about that,� he replied. Halbarad clamped his teeth on the stem of the pipe as he rummaged through one of his bags. He pulled a bottle from his sack, popped the cork and handed her the bottle. �Just a sip.�

Miriel gratefully swallowed a mouthful of the tonic before handing it back to her Watcher. �Thank you.�

The Ranger nodded, corked the bottle and shoved it back into his bag. He then resumed puffing on his pipe.

�How long before we reach Archet?� she asked.

�Two days,� he answered.

�Do you have a home there?�

�Yes.�

�What�s it like?�

�It�s just a cottage. Nothing special.�

�Do all the Rangers live there?�

�It�s a cottage. There�s only room for me.� Halbarad�s tone was not very friendly.

�I meant Archet,� said Miriel with a roll of her eyes. �Do all the Rangers live there?� she repeated.

The Ranger sighed loudly, blowing out a trail of smoke as he did so. He then slowly turned his head toward the Slayer. �I am in no mood for talk. I am in mourning. I�ve lost a dear friend and a fellow Watcher.�

His words stung Miriel�s heart. She quickly turned away, not wanting the Ranger to see the pain his comments had caused. She now wished she hadn�t left with him and dreaded what awaited her once they reached Archet. Halbarad had disliked her from the get-go, and with the loss of Arvellas, it seemed that he disliked her even more.

She rose to her feet, eager to leave her Watcher in peace.

�Where are you going?� he barked.

�I need to move my legs,� she replied, fighting back the tears that were forming in her eyes. �Why don�t you sleep? I�ll keep watch.�

Surprisingly, Halbarad agreed. Miriel stood beside Thalion, stroking his neck and wondering if the others were on their way to Amon S�l. If they happened to arrive whilst she and Halbarad were still here, she�d beg them to let her go along with them. At this point, she was willing to risk losing her arm to get away from her Watcher.

Miriel let Halbarad sleep until dawn. The last thing she wanted to do was to wake him, as it seemed he was in need of sleep more than she. Shortly after he woke, they collected their things, mounted Thalion, and rode back to the main road. From there, they continued west, traveling in parts unfamiliar to the young Slayer. There were many questions she would�ve like to have asked her Watcher, but thinking that his mood was probably still foul, she kept her mouth shut.

For the first time in days, the grey clouds had departed and the sun shone brightly in the pale blue sky. Miriel hoped that was a sign of things to come, that maybe Halbarad�s mood would improve along with the weather. Unfortunately, they rode on in silence. The only time her Watcher spoke was when he announced that they�d be stopping for a pee break or when he deemed it was time for a quick bite.

Sometimes they rode at a full gallop, but most of the time Thalion traveled between a trot and a canter. At midday, they reached the southeastern section of the Midgewater Marshes, an unappealing place no matter what time of year. Learning the name of that swampy area was about the only thing that Halbarad revealed voluntarily. Otherwise, he said very little.

As they rode pass those wetlands, Miriel�s thoughts turned to food. She had already grown tired of eating lembas and longed for something hot, preferably some form of meat. What better place to hunt than by a consistent water supply. Surely, that place attracted many forms of wild life. She wanted to ask her Watcher if he�d kill them something to eat, but knew, deep down, he would say no. The word �no� seemed to be a favorite word of his.

Instead, she remained quiet, daydreaming about �real� food. Her hunger pangs had gotten so bad that her stomach began to grumble loudly. Even Thalion seemed to hear her belly growl. After one particular loud rumble, his ears stood up. Much to her disappointment, Halbarad offered her a piece of lembas to satisfy her hunger. It didn�t.

After passing the marshes, Miriel noticed a woodsy area some distance ahead. They hadn�t seen any woods since crossing the Last Bridge, so that was a welcomed sight. As they rode on further, she noticed something else - thin plumes of grey smoke rising in the sky. Unsure what that could be (the enemy perhaps?) and with her curiosity piqued, she had to ask Halbarad.

His response: �That is no enemy, but smoke from the chimneys of the Forsaken Inn.�

�Inn? Did you say inn?� asked Miriel excitedly, nearly knocking Halbarad off the horse as she turned to look at him.

�Oi! Watch it!� he shouted, grabbing her tightly around the waist to steady himself.

�Sorry,� she answered, telling herself to be more careful. �But you did say inn. As in a place that serves food? Real food? Home-cooked food?�

�Yes, I imagine so.� Halbarad noticed Miriel�s delight, but there was no way he was going to stop at the inn when they were so close to home. If all went well, they�d reach Archet by nightfall.

The Slayer�s eyes remained fixed on the plumes of smoke; her excitement growing the nearer they got. She wondered what kind of people would be there - Men, Dwarves, Elves? All three?

When they had gotten close enough that Miriel could actually see details of the inn, her heart began to race. The three story stone and wood structure stood on the south side of the road, several miles from the edge of the woods beyond. With the sun sinking in the west, blinding her, she tried shielding her eyes to get a better look at the inn. To her dismay, all the curtains were drawn, preventing her from seeing anyone or anything inside the building. She soon smelled the smoke from the fires burning within the building.

�Do you smell that?� she said, imagining those inside the inn, seated before a roaring fire, eating steamy bowls of some hearty soup. Her mouth watered at the thought. �Food,� she uttered longingly.

�We�re not stopping,� answered Halbarad sharply.

Miriel�s heart sank. �Why not?� she whined.

�We�re nearly home, and I refuse to waste my money needlessly.�

Pouting, Miriel averted her gaze, refusing to even look at the old inn. While she had a few items of worth in her possession, she wasn�t nearly hungry enough to part with them for a measly hot meal. At least, that�s what she tried to convince herself, as they rode past the building. If she would�ve looked at the old inn, she would�ve noticed a couple of Dwarves peeping out from behind the heavy curtains, watching as she and Halbarad rode by.

�Take heart, Miriel,� the Watcher said, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. He actually felt a twinge of guilt over his curt reply. �We�re only a couple of hours from our destination, at most. And there, up ahead,� he pointed to the patch of woods, �is Bree-land. Our road runs through the town of Bree, where you will see many folk, some akin to Master Baggins.�

�Halflings?� she answered, somewhat surprised that Halbarad was initiating an actual conversation.

�Well, Bilbo Baggins and the Little Folk actually prefer to be called Hobbits. But, yes, there are some Hobbits that dwell in Bree alongside the Big Folk - that�s what they call us Men.�

�Then Bree is part of � what�s it called - Shire-something?� she asked, thinking back on her previous conversations with Bilbo.

�The Shire,� corrected Halbarad, emphasizing the word �the�. �And no, the Shire is not part of Bree-land, but is a separate land where only Halflings dwell.�

Miriel was actually feeling more upbeat now that Halbarad was talking to her like a normal person. So much so, that she dismissed her hunger pangs in hopes of keeping her Watcher engaged in an actual conversation. �Have you ever been to the Shire?� she asked.

There was a pause, and Miriel thought that she had said something that had offended her Watcher. Cringing inside, she feared that he�d revert to his unsociable self. He never would answer her question. Instead, he smacked Thalion on the rear, and the horse took off, going from a trot to a full gallop. Miriel grabbed hold of the horse�s mane with both hands, trying to steady herself and to keep from falling off.

Assuming that their brief conversation had ended (what had she said that was so wrong?), the Slayer fixed her gaze on the approaching town. At this point, she could see that the land was gradually sloping upwards, indicating that Bree was built on a prominent hill or several hills. She couldn�t� tell which, as of yet, since she wasn�t close enough to see things in greater detail.

When they were about one mile from the town, Halbarad slowed Thalion down to a trot and spoke again. �Do you see that up there?� he asked, stretching out his arm beside her head and pointing a little further south of the road. �The wall?�

�Uh-huh.�

�In defense of the town, the men of Bree built a tall hedge-wall along a deep dike, which they had dug in times past. At one time the town flourished, as it�s located by the intersection of the Great East Road and what we now call the Greenway,� he explained. �The road that we�re on crosses the dike by way of a causeway, and leads to a wooden gate at the southern entrance to town.�

�Was Bree founded by our people, our forefathers?�

�No. The men of Dunland settled these lands before Elendil and his people came,� he replied. �Though, at one time, it was under the domain of Arnor, before its fall.�

�Are they evil men?� she asked, finding herself leery of those not of N�menorean descent.

�No�not for the most part,� he answered, somewhat hesitantly. �Keep in mind, Miriel, evil comes in all forms and has a way of luring some people under its deceptive spell. Man has been gifted with free will and can choose which path he wants to follow. Some, unfortunately, choose to tread down the path of wickedness. Even some of our own kinsmen have. Surely, you are learned in the lore of your forefathers, and the decay of the Men of Westernesse.�

�Of course, I�m familiar with our lore,� she answered. �But it was the guile of the Dark Lord that brought ruin to our people.�

�Not all of our people,� he said, gently correcting her. �For Elendil and his lot were not deceived, and by the grace of the Valar they were able to flee the destruction of N�menor and come to these lands and start anew.� He paused. �Arnor was the first settlement founded by Elendil and our kinsmen, and was great, at one time.� Halbarad paused. �Were you not taught the history of Arnor?�

�Not so much,� Miriel answered honestly. �Father always said that Arnor was the weaker of the two kingdoms and because of its weakness, it never flourished like Gondor.�

The Watcher sniggered. �Leave it to Denethor to say such things,� he scoffed, �when Gondor is falling under his stewardship!�

�Yet it still stands!� defended Miriel proudly. She straightened her back so that she no longer sat slouched in the saddle. �We Gondorians are a strong people. Even with the threat of Mordor and Minas Morgul ever so close - we�re still holding strong.�

�Hmm, but was Minas Morgul not called Minas Ithil at one time? And I do believe that Osgiliath had become overrun by the enemy and now lays deserted and in ruins.�

�Alright, alright, you made your point,� said Miriel dejectedly. �War will destroy us all in the end, I deem.�

�Do not lose hope, for I am not saying that all is lost. The White City still stands and much of Gondor is intact. There are other things at work, Miriel, things that you do not know of, that give us hope that the Enemy will be destroyed and the two kingdoms will once again be united under one king.�

�You sound like Arwen,� chuckled Miriel. �There�s a lot riding on Aragorn, isn�t there?� she asked very seriously.

�Indeed. The blood of Westernesse runs thick in his veins. He is more like the kings of old, and possesses such qualities of greatness that have not been seen in our kind for some time. I believe in him. As do the Elves. He is our only chance at reclaiming that which we had lost. And my heart tells me he will one day succeed.� In a softer voice he added, �I only hope to live to see that day.�

�Me too. I think Aragorn will make a great king.� Miriel meant it too.

Now, it so happened that they were nearing the causeway, and the Slayer could clearly see the sweeping dike that arched in a semi-circle from the south upward to the north, taking in the road on which they were traveling. The shadows of the fence were growing taller as the sun continued to sink deeper in the west, leaving the sky pinkish-purple.

As she drank in the scenery, she thought how strange it seemed that she and Bregolas had started out on this journey together, seeking Archet, and now, here she was on her way to that town in the company of her Watcher.

Miriel noticed how little things would trigger memories of Bregolas. In this case, it was the hedge fencing that surrounded Bree. It brought to mind the time when she and Bregolas had encountered the Beornings at the ford, and when she had gone on to meet Grimbeorn, whose own halls were fenced by tall hedges similar to the one that enclosed Bree. She still missed the mighty Gondorian warrior, her protector and friend. She could only hope that he was now at peace, surrounded by his loved ones in Mandos.

Miriel was temporarily lost in her memories when Halbarad said, �Ah, we�re in luck! The gate is still open.�

Shaking herself out of her reverie, she replied, �Is that not normal?�

�It is nearing dusk. That�s when the gates are closed. By the time we pass the Western-gate, the door will be closed,� informed her Watcher.

They began to cross the causeway, and Miriel looked down into the dike that stretched out on either side of them.

�If ever you set foot in L�rien, you will see something similar to this dike surrounding their chief city,� mentioned Halbarad, as Thalion carried them toward the gate.

�You�ve been to L�rien?!� Miriel said in surprise.

�Once or twice,� he answered. �Very few mortals have set foot in the Golden Wood. Perhaps one day you will be fortunate enough to look upon that fair place and see the mallorn trees - taller than any tower - that exist nowhere else in Middle-earth save in those lands.�

Miriel could only hope.

As they slowly approached the gate, the Slayer could see that the hedges were not as tall as she had thought, though much thicker. They probably stood about eight feet tall, and the leaves looked similar to those of a holly tree - glossy and prickly.

An older man with brown and grey hair ambled out of a small cottage that sat just beyond the fenced wall on the north side of the road. He stepped onto the roadway, his eyes doing a quick inspection of Halbarad and Miriel. A frown came to his face.

�Oh, you�re back, eh?� he said in an unkindly voice. �And brought someone else with you.�

Miriel offered the man a smile, but his expression remained stern, uninviting.

�Saddened to see I still live, huh Thistlewood?� replied Halbarad in the same scornful tone that the man had used. �Now out of my way before my horse mows you down!� As if he had heard the Watcher�s unspoken command, Thalion leapt forward, startling the man, and forcing him to jump out of the road.

The Ranger snickered. Looking over his shoulder, he could see that the man was shaking his fist and cursing Halbarad.

�That wasn�t very nice,� Miriel said, scolding Halbarad.

�He�s not very nice,� replied the Watcher, still sniggering.

�Why did you insult him by calling him Thistlewood?� demanded the Slayer. She didn�t want anyone in Bree to think she was as contemptuous as Halbarad appeared to be.

�That�s his name,� he answered, slowing Thalion down to a slow pace.

�How strange a name it is,� murmured Miriel, trying to take in her surroundings. Her eager eyes swept the immediate area, excited at the prospect of being in some foreign village.

�It may sound strange to one from the south, but it is quite common for those that dwell in Bree-land.�

The Slayer made no comment. She was too busy looking at everything. The road on which they were riding angled somewhat, running northwest through the town. By the looks of it, Bree was built on a large hill with most of the homes on the right side of the road, adorning the hillside.

It was quite obvious to her that the hands of the D�nedain had had no part in the building of Bree. There were no similarities between it and any city in Gondor. If one were to compare the village to, say, Minas Tirith, it would be like comparing a magnificent jewel to a lump of coal. Bree looked primitive in design and construction, lacking the beauty and splendor of the White City. Perhaps it was more akin to some parts of Rohan, where homesteads dotted the countryside.

If there were any similarities between Bree and Miriel�s place of birth, it would be that in both places the inhabitants had preferred building out of stone. In the northlands, however, the stone was not smooth and white, the prominent color of most dwellings in Minas Tirith (and Gondor, for that matter), but were dark, rough looking, and stacked by masons not as skilled as those descended from N�menor. The rocks must have been what were available in the region.

Secondly, both Bree and Minas Tirith took advantage of the terrain, using it in the design of their cities (though, technically Bree would not be classified as one). The people of Bree used the hillside, the people of Minas Tirith, the mountainside. Maybe the Bree-landers (as Miriel begun to refer to them) didn�t have to worry about the threat of many enemies and only needed the hedge wall for defense, but Minas Tirith was built with defense in mind and was much stronger and fortified with multi-tiered walls and numerous gates.

In the end, there really was no comparison. However, Miriel told herself that Bree was a quaint enough place and hoped that the people would be much more civil than the gate-keeper.

With nightfall rapidly approaching, men were already beginning to light the lamps that ran along either side of the street. Wisps of smoke rose from nearly every chimney she could see. Perhaps her eyes were deceiving her, but it also looked like there were some chimneys protruding from the ground, up ahead and higher up along the hillside. After rubbing her eyes, and seeing nothing had changed, she asked Halbarad why the people of Bree would build such things.

The Ranger heartedly laughed in a way that Miriel had never witnessed before. �Those are Hobbit holes,� he informed her. �They like to build their dwelling into the earth, when they may. If you look closer, you�ll see little round windows in the earth.�

Sure enough, the Slayer then noticed the little windows and the little doors. She would have given anything to have gone into a Hobbit hole, that is, if a person her size would fit in one.

Miriel�s fondness for Bree was now growing. For Man to live alongside Halflings, it had to be a decent place, with decent people, if Bilbo Baggins was an example of one of the Little Folk.

Despite the cold weather, there were people out and about. Every now and again, the Slayer caught a delectable whiff of food cooking. Supper time was approaching, and her stomach began to rumble again, reminding her that it was empty.

Now it so happened that they were nearing a group of four men standing beside the street, just feet away from one of the stone abodes. Miriel was contemplating speaking to the strangers, offering words of greeting when they passed. Those thoughts quickly diminished when the men heard the sound of the horses� hooves, and turned in hers and Halbarad�s direction. She could only describe their expressions as a mixture of bewilderment, fear, and suspicion, all wrapped in one. They actually backed away from the road as she and Halbarad passed by, staring with their mouths agape.

That made Miriel highly uncomfortable. �Why are they looking at us that way?� she whispered to her Watcher.

�I imagine they�re looking at you more so than me.�

�Why is that?� she asked, stunned and saddened that anyone would look at her in that manner.

�It has been a while since you�ve looked at your reflection,� Halbarad chuckled. He paused, then lightheartedly continued with, �Let�s see now. Ah, yes. You�re covered in troll blood with a sword hanging from each hip. And let�s not forget that you�re dressed in clothing more customarily seen on men. Truly these things are not seen all too often on any women, particularly those in Bree.�

Miriel immediately felt self-conscious. She tried her best to cover her weapons with her cloak, but due to the fact that she was sitting on it, that made it damn near impossible. She lifted her rear slightly from the saddle, pulling her cloak out from under her bottom. She then swept the fabric over both blades. To any casual observer, it was obvious that she was armed, though she had hidden the scabbards of her blades.

From behind, she could hear Halbarad softly chuckling. He stopped when she began to comb her hair with her fingers, sickened by the fact that she could feel dried troll guts clinging to the strands. She had gotten so used to being dirty, stinky even, that she had given no thought as to how others would perceive her. Deeply embarrassed now, she pulled the hood of her cloak over her head, wanting to hide her face as well.

Halbarad pointed out various places he was familiar with along their route, but Miriel�s hood muffled his voice, and she missed out on a lot of informative stuff. She did hear the part about how the road going off to their left led to the West-gate, as they continued traveling north.

About a quarter of a mile passed the road that went west, they veer to the right, taking a road that wound up the hill, (past the area called Hobbit Holes), then down the other side into the valley where the village Combe was located. With the light quickly fading, Miriel couldn�t make out much of Combe other than it didn�t seem as heavily populated as Bree.

They followed the road into Chetwood, the great forested area of Bree-land. It was already dark when they entered the wood, but Thalion seemed to know the way and continued along the pathway, unhindered by the lack of light.

When they neared the end of the trail, Miriel could see muted lights from within the homes in the area known as Archet. At this point, it was hard to see much of anything. It almost seemed like night had blanketed them in the blink of an eye. Cold, tired, hungry, and eager to get off Thalion, the Slayer wondered which house was Halbarad�s.

His, it turned out, was the last house on the far north side of the village, at the edge of the woods. Miriel slid off Thalion, her legs trembling with fatigue. She took what bags her one arm could carry, waiting impatiently for her Watcher to finish collecting their things, and tie Thalion�s reins to a tree branch near the front door.

�Hurry,� she groaned, as Halbarad reached in the pocket of his breeches in search of his key.

�I�m hurrying,� he snapped back, just as tired and miserable as Miriel.

Finding his key, he slid it into the lock, turning it until it clicked. He swung the door open, motioning for Miriel to go inside. She stepped across the threshold into the cottage, instantly greeted by gloom and cold, damp, stale air. It seemed befitting, the initial feel of Halbarad�s home mirroring the man�