Sad Wings of Destiny

Bregolas had risen to the rank of Captain by the age of twenty-two, not only because of his prowess on the battlefield, but also because of his ability to think quickly on his feet. He was a man of action and knew that the tides of war could change in an instant. He had no fear when it came to combat, and he valiantly slew many of the Dark Lord�s followers, whether they be Man, Orc, or Troll.

Yet, this new enemy was altogether different. He was the Lord of Gondor, the Steward, someone that Bregolas knew, loved, and respected. He would have gladly died in Denethor�s name. Now, in only a few second�s time, all of that had changed. The Steward had revealed himself to be a monster, and not much different than the likes of the enemy. If Bregolas could have, he would have marched into Denethor�s quarters and killed him in his own house. And, in retribution, he would have hacked off the Steward�s manhood - the weapon he had used to violate poor Miriel.

That, Bregolas thought, would be just.

As he held Miriel in his arms, weeping, trying to comfort her, the thoughts continued to race through his mind. He cursed himself for not having seen the subtle signs of her abuse earlier. He remembered one time when she had remarked rather offhandedly that Denethor always wore a shirt of mail beneath his clothing, even to bed. Bregolas had assumed, at the time, that she was privy to that knowledge since she dwelt with her father, but, now, looking back on it, he could see that that was not the case.

Why did she not tell me sooner? he thought.

She did, said the voice of reason in his mind. You just did not listen!

That added to the young man�s grief, but it also inflamed his wrath. He prayed to the Valar, asking for strength and their protection for what he was about to do. He implored the Lords of the West to heal Miriel swiftly and to make Denethor pay bitterly. He then reaffirmed, in the name of the Valar, that he would do everything in his power to protect his beloved, even at risk to himself.

The time had come to act before it was too late. Fueled by wrath, his plan to rescue Miriel unfolded in his mind.

He sucked back his tears. �Come, Miriel,� he said lovingly, gently leading her to the other room. He kicked the door open wider, bathing more of the main room in a dim light. Keeping her nudity covered, he guided her into the adjoining room toward the bed. �I�m going to get you out of here, Miriel. But, first, we need to get you dressed.� He spoke calmly yet firmly.

Miriel remained in a daze. Her half-closed eyes were glazed over and her body still trembled from the trauma of her ordeal.

Bregolas could no longer dwell on that. Not now. He dried his tears as he began searching for suitable clothing for their journey. He found the breeches that F�riel had made tucked under a stack of winter sweaters in one of the wardrobes. He grabbed a pair along with a shirt and Miriel�s undergarments.

He helped her dress, his blood boiling when he looked again upon the reddened flesh of her body that she had rubbed raw.

Once she was garbed, he grasped her shoulders gently and said, �Listen, Miriel. I must prepare for our departure, and there are many supplies that I need to gather. I want you to stay here and pack a bag for the road. Take only necessities, and make sure you pack warm clothing.�

�Where� where are we going?� she stammered softly.

�We�re leaving Gondor. Where exactly we�ll go, I do not yet know. I just know that I want to get you out of the city as quickly as possible. After that, we will decide where our path lies.�

Miriel nodded.

Bregolas headed toward the door with the young woman trailing behind. �I may be gone for an hour or so,� he stated. Stopping at the door, he faced Miriel, adding, �but I will be back. Stay here until I return.� He gave her a reassuring smile and left the room, leaving a very dismal Miriel behind.

The young woman sighed. She had to fight to keep from falling into the abyss of despair, which normally occurred after Denethor�s nocturnal visits. Mustering her strength, she pushed the incident from her mind, as her thoughts turned to packing for her departure.

Miriel raced to her winter wardrobe, and dug out the two remaining pairs of breeches that lay hidden at the bottom of her sweaters. She returned to her bed, where she usually piled her clothing when she packed for a trip. Noticing the wet stain on the middle of the sheets, she pulled the garments in her hands close to her chest. She shuddered, fighting back her tears, as images of her ordeal sprang into her mind. She closed her eyes tightly and breathed deeply, trying to compose herself.

She told herself that Denethor would never touch her again, that tonight - the nightmare had ended. The longer you stand here, dwelling on it, the less time you�ll have to pack. Stop it, Miriel. You stop it right now! Do not let yourself succumb to melancholy. There is no time for that! You have been preparing for this for months now! Delay no longer, scolded that voice in her head.

Miriel�s eyes popped open. A look of determination came to her face. She grabbed the covers that hung over the foot of the bed and pulled them up over the mattress, hiding the soiled sheet. She then turned her attention to packing what things she felt she couldn�t live without.

Once she had taken care of her clothing, Miriel reached under the bed and pulled out her trunk where she had concealed things of importance in anticipation of this day. Opening the lid, she pulled out bottles of tonics, jars of salves and powdered plant leaves and roots (which had significant medicinal properties) and bandages. These she had stolen from the Houses of the Healing over the past few months. Miriel figured that a Slayer would inevitably sustain injuries in battle and thought that she should have such items on hand before she hit the road.

Also inside her trunk were a couple of daggers and a map of Middle-earth. These too she would take on her journey. She then took all these items, along with some toiletries, and carefully packed them in her bags. Although Bregolas told her to take only the essentials, her things ended up filling three separate bags. Normally, when she traveled, she carried four large trunks of belongings. She thought she had done well under the circumstances.

Thirty minutes later, Miriel was ready. All her things were packed and she was properly attired for her trip. Now, it was a matter of waiting for Bregolas to return. She paced the room, listening to the monotonous ticking of the clock. Occasionally, she glanced out the window in hope of seeing the warrior�s approach in the shadows of the night.

Around three o�clock, she was beginning to lose hope, thinking Bregolas had been caught, when she heard a gentle tapping on her door.

Before Miriel even crossed the room, the warrior had already entered and closed the door behind him.

�Alright, Miriel,� he said, sounding nearly out of breath. �I have prepared the best I could with what little time was afforded me.� He plopped down on one of the chairs in the sitting area, and then discussed his plan with her.

When he had finished speaking, he eyed the bags on her bed. �Are you planning on taking all of those?� he queried incredulously. Bregolas rose from his seat and marched over to the bed where her bags were lined in a neat row. �This is no holiday trip we are taking. I told you to pack only the essentials.�

�I did,� she hissed in reply, somewhat annoyed that the warrior thought she had over-packed.

Without warning, Bregolas opened the first bag and emptied the contents onto the bed.

Miriel rushed to his side. �What are you doing?� she demanded, her eyes widening in disbelief.

�Bath oils, Miriel!� he said in disdain. �Why are you packing things of little worth? You have no need for these!� Bregolas tossed the items to the side.

The young woman remained speechless. After hearing the warrior�s disparaging remarks, she too wondered why she had packed such trivial items.

He then emptied her remaining bags, chastising her yet again for choosing clothing in bright bold colors. Holding up a red sweater, Bregolas spat, �We are attempting to travel in secret and need to blend into our surroundings as much as possible. Wearing something like this will draw one�s eye to us. The world is a perilous place, Miriel, and we will not have the protection of Gondor�s armies. Something like this will attract unfriendly eyes.� He tossed the garment aside. �Find something else, preferably in green, tan, grey, brown, or black.�

Miriel was crestfallen. She thought she had done a good job and had put a lot of thought into her choices. As she returned to her wardrobe, she could hear the warrior grumbling under his breath.

�Why all this jewelry?� he queried in that same critical tone, the various pieces tinkling as he handled them.

The young woman could feel her eyes watering, as she rummaged through her stack of winter sweaters. The harsh tone of Bregolas� voice was beginning to take its toll on her. Did he not realize how trying all this was? At first, she thought it a blessing that the warrior was going to accompany her. Now, doubt filled her heart. Would she have to endure this treatment forever?

She ignored his question, afraid that if she spoke, she would break down.

When Miriel did not answer, he turned towards her. �Miriel, I asked you a question.�

She spun around, her bottom lip trembling as she fought back the tears. �I thought we might use them to barter with,� she answered. �I do not know if Gondorian money is good outside our realm and thought that we could use my jewelry in exchange for items that we need - such as food.� A tear escaped from the corner of her eye and ran down her cheek before splattering onto the floor.

Bregolas� demeanor instantly changed. She was trying to think ahead, and offering up her jewelry in exchange for things that they may need in the future was smart thinking. He had let it slip his mind how hard all this must be for her. His expression softened.

�I�m sorry, Miriel. It is not my intent to be heartless and cruel. It�s just� � he paused, collecting his thoughts. �We have need for haste, and so much time has passed already. It will not be long before the household wakes, and things will go ill for us if we are still here.� Bregolas turned his attention to items strewn about on the bed. �We have more provisions other than clothing and soap.� He turned his sympathetic eyes back to her. �We will be traveling long and hard and cannot be burdened with too many things. That is why I said bring only the essentials. Three sets of clothing will be fine, and maybe a couple of sweaters and your winter cloak.� He offered her a reassuring smile. �Let me help you.�

Miriel and Bregolas sifted through her things, reducing her bags down to two. Her fur lined cloak and sweaters nearly took up all the space in one bag. The daggers, he suggested, she leave behind, as he had already taken care of securing weapons for them both.

Once Miriel�s gear was packed to Bregolas� satisfaction, it was time to put phase one of his plan into action. Leaving the house at that hour, unnoticed, would be much trickier than it sounded. No one would pay much attention to Bregolas� comings and goings, but Miriel�s exit would draw the attention of the guards.

The warrior had already concocted a cover story, one that the young woman found rather amusing despite the severity of their situation. However, it would not aid her in leaving the house at that hour.

�I believe we�re ready,� Bregolas said, heaving the straps of the bags over his shoulders.

Miriel hesitated, looking at all the things scattered about on her bed.

�What is it now?� he asked with an air of frustration to his voice.

With her adrenaline pumping and her heart racing, the young woman�s thoughts turned to buying them more time for their escape. She shifted her gaze to one of the windows and solemnly said, �On the nights when Father� when Father� � Her words faltered. She wasn�t sure how to word her father�s unpleasant nighttime visits. She took a deep breath and finally said, �On the nights when he torments me, he let�s me sleep in in the mornings, telling Andreth not to wake me as she usually does.�

She turned her eyes to Bregolas, who appeared saddened by her confession. �We can forestall them more by barricading the door, allowing us to put many leagues between us and - �

�- Your father�s armies,� interjected the warrior, completing her sentence.

She nodded. �Yes. You know Father will figure things out, twisting them in his warped mind, no doubt. He will want me brought back. But, if we can stall them, that will help us, no?�

�Yes, it would,� answered Bregolas, dreading the thought of being hunted by Gondor�s finest. �However, there is something that you fail to consider, Miriel: we are three floors up, and the courtyard below is made of stone. There is no way for one to make such a leap without breaking a leg, or worse, one�s neck.�

�I can do it,� she answered firmly. �I can make such a leap. And I haven�t broken any bones.�

�Yet!� countered the warrior with a frown. �That would be too risky. We can�t chance that.�

�Then how do you expect me to leave the house unnoticed? The guards know me, cloaked or not. My leaving the house at this hour would rouse their suspicions. They will question us, and possibly wake Father.�

Bregolas went over to the nearest window and glanced outside. �You�ve really made such a leap?� he queried impressively. �Why have you not told me this?�

Miriel made her way to the warrior�s side. �I did not think such a skill would be of much use. Although now, I feel differently.� She glanced at Bregolas. �If I barricade the door, Andreth will go to Father. Father will then come and try to open the door himself. When he fails, he�ll have to summon more brawny men for the task. Such an uproar will surely guarantee a delay.� The young woman smiled, pleased with her assessment of what she believed would take place later that day.

�I do not know, Miriel,� he answered doubtfully. �What if something goes amiss and you get hurt? Then everything we�ve done has been for naught.�

�Do you doubt my abilities, Bregolas?� she asked, raising a skeptical brow. �I think that you underestimate me. I am the Slayer and am stronger than I look. I know that may be hard for you to accept, being a mighty warrior and all - but have faith in me. Do not doubt me.�

A smile came to the warrior�s face, yet, he continued to stare out the window. �Who is that down there? Which guard?� he asked, eyeing the stationary shadow at the base of the building.

Miriel spent much of her time gazing out the window, and knew who it was. �That�s Galdor,� she answered. �And I deem that you can distract him easily enough. Once I�m outside, we can use your scheme to bypass the rest of the guards and gatekeepers.�

�And just how am I supposed to distract him?� Bregolas questioned.

�Galdor has a fondness for alcohol,� she revealed.

�So, you want me to get him drunk?� replied Bregolas, his face wrinkled in confusion.

�No. But he�s sympathetic to those that have drunk too much.�

The warrior stared blankly at her.

Rolling her eyes, she said, �Pretend that you are drunk and stumble or something. He�ll come to your aid.�

�Are you sure?�

�Do not doubt me, son of Halthor,� she replied, a tinge of warning to her tone. �Now, go. I�ll meet you outside the tunnel.� She grabbed her bags from his shoulders. �I�ll take these.�

Putting all his faith in Miriel, Bregolas reluctantly left.

The young woman wasted no time. When the door closed, she ran to the bed and grabbed one of the daggers. She pulled it from its sheath as she hastened back to the door. She then forced the object into the small gap between the door and the frame, using care so as not to splinter the wood. Once the knife was wedged into place, she turned the knob in an attempt to open the door. It appeared stuck. To make things a bit more difficult for those on the other side, she broke the handle of the door off, locking the latch in place.

Pleased, she then headed over to the nearest wardrobe. Though heavy and awkward, she lifted the cabinet from the floor and carried it over to the door. She eased the wardrobe back until it struck the face of the door. She repeated that step one more time before dashing to the window.

She saw no sign of Bregolas. The clock read three eighteen. She quietly swung the windows open, listening intently for any sound below. That�s when she caught sight of her nightgown lying in a pool on the floor. Her eyes narrowed, as the horrid images of her father removing her garment flashed in her mind.

Miriel went over and picked up the white dress. She wanted to leave a message for her father, a message only he would understand. She then turned, her eyes scanning the mess on her bed. Seeing the second dagger lying there, she ran over and picked it up. She stared at the sharp edges of the blade, how the metal glinted in the dim light of the room. She walked over to one of the pillars. Holding the garment against the column, she then drove the blade through the breast of the gown, pinning it in place. She made a point to nail the fabric in the place where her heart would�ve been had she been wearing the dress.

Not a second later, she heard Bregolas� boisterous, slurred speech coming through the window, lamenting the estrangement of him and Miriel.

The young woman ran to her bathing chamber, extinguishing the light so that the entire room fell into darkness. With a bag flung over each shoulder, she made her way to the window, climbing up on the ledge. She waited, watching Bregolas stumbling around the court below, swinging a bottle of wine in one hand while crying how the Steward�s daughter had broken his heart.

In anticipation of her exit, she pulled up the hood of her cloak, which concealed her face. She then wrapped a blue scarf around her neck, similar to the one worn by Elwen, the nurse that traveled with Imrahil to look after his children during their stay in Minas Tirith.

Bregolas then collapsed, a little too dramatic to Miriel�s liking, beside the statue of Elendil. Of course, Galdor, seeing the mighty Captain in such dire straits hurried to his side.

�So predictable,� she murmured before jumping from the window. Miriel landed without mishap. Then, slinking in the shadows, she made her way toward the tunnel leading to the sixth level where she was to meet up with Bregolas.

When the warrior finally caught up with her, he whispered, �Do not speak, even if questioned.� He then removed one of the bags from her shoulder, and, taking her by the elbow, led her through the first of seven gates.

Once on the sixth level, they went straight to the stables. Lind�r, one of the men who took care of the horses, had already saddled two of the steeds. He looked at Bregolas with envy. The warrior had already told the caretaker that he and Miriel had broken up and that he was attempting to mend his broken heart with Elwen. And at three thirty in the morning, Lind�r knew the couple wasn�t going out for some casual ride. According to Bregolas, the warrior wanted to get his companion back to his house as quick as possible before she could change her mind about spending the night with him.

�You know how those noble types are, my Lord,� said Lind�r, watching while Bregolas and Miriel mounted the horses. �We�re beneath them, you see. Not good enough. Don�t have the right kind of blood flowing through our veins.� He then bid them goodnight before disappearing deeper into the stable.

Miriel couldn�t believe how convincing Bregolas� story was and that it was actually working. As they rode on to the next gate, she felt pity for Elwen, who had now become involved in their scheme. She hoped the nurse�s reputation would not be sullied by the lie told, but, then again, this was Minas Tirith, and people here loved to gossip. Miriel could only hope that Elwen would one day understand how desperate she was to involve the nurse in such a scandalous plot.

Aside from Lind�r, no one else questioned Bregolas. Miriel suspected that the caretaker had done so since her companion sought to borrow a couple of the Steward�s horses.

When they reached the second level, they rode over to Bregolas� house. Sitting beside his cottage was a wain laden with the rest of their gear. Once the cart was harnessed to the horses, they would leave the White City, presumably forever.

As soon as all was ready, Bregolas told Miriel to climb in the back of the wain. He then covered her with blankets and the saddles so none would see her leaving the city.

�It smells like horse,� she complained, her voice somewhat muffled from the coverings.

The warrior shook his head, sighing heavily. Miriel was in for a rude awakening once they left Minas Tirith. Her days of luxurious living were most likely over and the comforts of home would become merely a fond memory as the days passed. If she was already complaining about the smell of horses, what would she be complaining about in a week�s time? Things would steadily get worse, comfort-wise, the further they traveled. But Bregolas hoped that she�d be able to adapt and come to appreciate the things in life that she had taken for granted.

He adjusted the saddles. �Comfy down there?� he queried.

�Not really,� she answered. �Something is sticking in my back.�

�Forgive me, my Lady, for not accommodating you in a vehicle more suited for your noble rump!� he shot back sarcastically. �As soon as we pass through Rammas Echor you can join me up front, if that is your will.�

Miriel cursed in response.

�Such language is most unbecoming for one of your statue. Now keep quiet whilst we pass through the last gates.�

The young woman fell silent. It was stifling hot beneath the blankets and when the wain jolted forward, the saddles began to bounce uncomfortably on top of her. And the smell. The smell of horse was overwhelming. But she would endure this, as it wouldn�t be forever.

Miriel listened to the hypnotic clomping of the horses� hooves against the road. She was beginning to come down from her adrenaline rush, but her heart still beat frantically in her chest. She was frightened, frightened that they�d be caught and have to face her father. That thought alone sent shivers down her spine.

Her thoughts then turned to her brothers and what they would say when they discovered she was gone. Would they guess the true reason, or assume that she had run off with Bregolas after Denethor had denied the warrior her hand? It would be the latter, no doubt. If they had not figured out what had been happening to her by now, they never would. She would miss them, though. Terribly.

She couldn�t say the same for her father. She hoped that the good Steward would come to see that he was the reason for her leaving Minas Tirith. It had nothing to do with all that Slayer business. Being a Slayer only increased her chances of survival, gave her a fighting chance in the wilds of Middle-earth. If her home life had been as it once was, prior to that gloomy night in February, she wouldn�t leave. Why would she? Life had been good. There had been a time when Miriel was comfortable, happy, and safe. That is, until Denethor took all that away from her. Now, there was no reason to stay, and why would she want to?

Her mind seemed to be racing a mile per minute. Thinking of the life she once had, and the uncertainty that the future held. She had not yet told Bregolas that she had been planning to leave Minas Tirith for some time, and that she would like to go north to search for the remnants of the Council of Watchers in hope of learning more about her legacy. Would he be willing to help her get there? And then what? What would become of him? Would he stay with her, to fight alongside her as she fulfilled her destiny?

Where else would he go? answered that voice in the back of her mind. He has chosen you over all else. You are his world now.

Miriel wasn�t sure if that was a good or bad thing. She deemed that only time would tell.

After a while, Bregolas said, �We�re out of the city, Miriel. You may breathe the fresh air until we reach Forannest.�

The young woman pushed the blanket off her face and took her last look at Minas Tirith standing proudly before her. How beautiful it was, even at night. The few lamps that were on glimmered like stars through the mists that had settled about the land.

She felt as though an enormous weight had been lifted from her shoulders. And as Miriel looked up at the White City, her heart ached at her departure. It had been her home for seventeen years. Memories, both good and bad, came rushing to her mind causing her eyes to well with tears. The moment was bitter sweet.

As the anxiety lifted, something else took its place - exhaustion. The warmth of the blankets combined with the cool breeze on her face made her sleepy. Her eyelids became heavy as she listened to the horses� hooves rhythmically clomping against the road. She struggled to keep her eyes open; wanting to see Minas Tirith until it disappeared from view, but it was a useless battle. Sleep beckoned to her, and finally her eyes closed, and she fell into a deep sleep, entering the world of dreams, but she was not alone�



Buffy remained trapped in Miriel�s mind for quite some time, or so it seemed. She had lost all concept of time. Had it been hours, days or weeks since Dawn was taken by Glory? She didn�t know. For whatever reason, she was stuck here, wandering in the hazy memories of a Slayer from the distant past. She could not escape and her calls for help went unanswered.

She remembered her last thoughts before she had been sent back in time, the hopelessness and despair that had caused her to crack, emotionally. Yet, all those feelings seemed to dissipate once she entered the mind of Miriel. Why this happened, she didn�t know, but deep down, she felt that this experience was important, and, perhaps, it would somehow help her face her own dilemma when she returned to her body. She believed that she had a connection with this Slayer, though the specifics were still quite unclear.

The only thing she could say with certainty was that Miriel�s sleeping appeared to be the key to her being able to communicate with this newly called Slayer. Buffy had now taken bodily form, no longer an apparition wandering through the girl�s mind and memories. She now found herself standing at the base of a cliff on the edge of the sea, dressed in the same black leather clothing she had been wearing when she had fled Sunnydale with her friends.

The sky was grey, portending rain, but, otherwise, the weather was temperate, pleasant. Glancing to the top of the rocky cliff, she saw a great city made of white stone, similar to Minas Tirith, but altogether different. Whereas the White City was built into the face of a mountainside, this city looked to be carved from the sheer wall of rock. Blowing in the ocean breeze, from the tallest tower was a blue banner emblazoned with a white ship and silver swan. Buffy knew this place from Miriel�s memories - it was Dol Amroth, the Land of Princes.

Even from her viewpoint, the city looked amazing, as if it had been there since the beginning of time. She couldn�t help but notice that the architectural styles of Middle-earth were so vastly different from her modern world. Here, the cities appeared to fit in naturally with their surroundings unlike the cold steel and glass structures that dominated cities throughout America.

She shifted her gaze to the sea where many ships bobbed on the water�s surface. These too were things of great beauty, and very different from anything she had ever seen in her twenty years of life. She could see that the boats were intricately carved in the shape of massive swans, and considered herself lucky to witness such things in person (so to speak), for all this seemed quite real, and very un-dreamlike.

Buffy�s senses had kicked into overdrive. She could smell the salt in the air, feel the warm breeze on her face, hear the surf, the waves crashing on the shore, and the mournful cries of a flock of gulls flying overhead. There was only one thing conspicuously absent - people. She could hear no voices coming from the ships or from the city perched on the top of the high bluffs. It was devoid of all human life, except for a solitary figure, dressed entirely in black, and seated at the water�s edge.

She locked her eyes on Miriel�s form, recognizing her by sight, even from behind. Her heart went out to the girl, knowing what she had been going through. Her pain was Buffy�s pain. And it soon became clear to the elder Slayer that she had been chosen to help Miriel through this next phase of her life. With no Watcher to guide her, Buffy felt it was her responsibility to step into that role. She had five years of slaying experience under her belt, and she could teach Miriel a thing or two. While Bregolas� lessons would prove beneficial, the warrior did not truly understand the significance of Miriel�s calling. Not only was the young girl a hunter, but, in time, she would become the hunted. And without the proper skills, she would not last long in the world.

Buffy couldn�t explain it, but she knew that this was what she was supposed to do. She felt it so strongly, that her own sister�s welfare was no longer a priority. At least, not now.

She started across the sand toward Miriel. Her first thought was to try to lift the girl�s spirits, if she could. No matter how traumatizing her past had been; that was now behind her. Denethor was no longer a threat, or so Buffy hoped.

When she reached Miriel�s side, she said, �Hey. Can I join you?�

The girl, who sat with her legs pulled to her chest, her head resting on her knees, then turned to Buffy with her doleful grey eyes and nodded before turning her gaze back to the sea.

Buffy sat down on the sand beside the girl. �I�m - �

� - Buffy. I know who you are. You are a Slayer, yes?� answered Miriel glumly.

�Yep, the one and only,� responded Buffy in a cheerful voice in an attempt to keep the mood light. She paused, a thoughtful expression coming to her face. �Well, I guess I can�t say that right now, since you�re here. Or, is it I�m here? Whatever. Yeah, I�m a Slayer, just like you.�

�Why are you here?� asked Miriel, still staring out at the ocean. �Have you come to tell me how foolish I am to run away?

�No,� she replied, pulling her own legs up to her chest. �Sometimes, sometimes running away is the best option. Been there, done that!�

The girl looked at Buffy. �You did?�

�Yeah. It�s been a few years back,� she answered, vividly remembering her ordeal with Angel. �But it helped me to heal. I needed to be alone, to think things through. I thought no one could understand what I was going through. But I was wrong. It helps to talk about� things.� Buffy knew she had better tread very carefully. She was well aware of what Miriel�s father had been doing to her, and knew that in order for the girl to heal, she needed to talk about it. It was Miriel�s inner demon, and only she could slay it.

The girl shifted her eyes back to the sea. �And did you go through the same thing as I? Did your father� � Her words faltered. She didn�t want to finish that sentence.

Buffy answered abruptly with, �No! My dad�s not a big part of my life anymore. It�s just been me and� � She stopped speaking mid-sentence. Dawn was not a topic of conversation that she cared to discuss.

Miriel then said, �Dawn. It�s just been you and your sister. And then that Glory took her. I saw that. I was there.�

Buffy closed her eyes briefly. She inhaled deeply, tasting the salt at the back of her throat. �I don�t wanna talk about Dawn,� she said solemnly.

A small smile came to Miriel�s face. �And I do not want to talk about Denethor.�

Buffy�s eyes popped open. �Touch�,� she snickered. �Sounds like you�re not the only one running away, huh?� she remarked, half-smirking. �We�ll call a truce, okay? No more talking about my sister or your father. Deal?� She offered her hand.

Miriel looked at Buffy with a perplexed expression on her face. She didn�t understand why she was holding her hand out.

�You shake it,� the elder Slayer replied with a smile. �Like this.� She then took the girl�s hand and shook it.

�How very strange you are, Buffy,� answered Miriel. �May I?� she then asked, wanting to touch her leather jacket.

�Knock yourself out.�

Miriel fingered the sleeve of the jacket. �It feels strange to the touch. Is this raiment common with your people?�

�Nah. Only the cool kids wear it. And rock stars. They wear lots of leather,� she answered.

�Your speech is very strange, but, oddly, I find your presence very comforting,� Miriel said with a small smile.

�Same here. I guess, I guess that�s because we�re soul sisters, you know. We�ve got that whole Slayer thing in common.�

�Perhaps.� Miriel paused for a moment before adding, �I know what rocks are and I know what stars are, but why would you want to put clothing on either? My life must be very sheltered indeed!�

Buffy laughed. �Oh, my soul sister, you have to learn the vernacular of modern times. I�ll teach you. And, I�ll teach you how to be a Slayer.� Buffy suddenly felt restless. �Let�s walk,� she added, rising to her feet and brushing the sand off her bottom. �And it wouldn�t hurt to see a little sunshine, you know.�

Miriel got to her feet.

�Wow!� exclaimed Buffy, sizing the teen up. �You�re freakishly tall!� The girl stood a good foot taller than Buffy.

�And you�re freakishly small,� replied Miriel, looking down at the elder Slayer with a grin.

�I think my size is less intimidating to the enemy,� surmised Buffy, linking her arm with Miriel and starting down the beach. Gradually, the grey clouds thinned and the sun shone down upon them. �So, tell me about this Dark Lord - Sarong. What�s the deal?�

�His name is Sauron,� corrected Miriel. �He is a Maia from the race Ainur.�

�Okay, wait a minute. Already confused. What the hell�s a Maia and what�s an Ainur?�

�The Ainur are heavenly spirits. The Valar are the eldest and most powerful,� began Miriel. �It is their task to act as guardians of E�, the world. The Maiar are their helpers, whose powers are not as great as the Valar, but are far greater than any that still dwell in Middle-earth. Some of the Maiar were corrupted, turned evil. Sauron is the chief of them and has claimed dominion over these parts. He is wicked and cruel and very powerful. He has legions of armies under his command, some from the race of Man, some not.�

�So this Sauron, he�s the Big Bad here. The one you have to take down,� responded Buffy matter-of-factly.

Miriel stopped in her tracks. �Are you mad?!� she exclaimed, looking at the elder Slayer in disbelief. �I would not confront the Dark Lord under any circumstance! Do you know how many have died trying to thwart him? Thousands, hundreds of thousands - perhaps, even millions over the years. He has ruled for countless centuries, slaughtering all that attempt to hinder him. No,� she added, shaking her head. �I would not set foot in Mordor for any reason, not even for the gift of immortality.�

Buffy placed her hands on her hips, taking her defiant stance. �See, this is what your not getting, Miriel - you�re a Slayer, and that�s what you�re made to do - slay! The bigger they are, the harder they fall. You have the strength of ten men - �

� - But there seems to be something that you do not understand, Buffy. I have never killed anything in my life. I have never fought an Orc or a warg or a Troll. And you expect me to go the Dark Lands and dethrone the greatest villain of them all. I have no death wish. Not at all.� She paused, intently scrutinizing the smaller Slayer. �However, I�m beginning to wonder if you do.�

�Listen, Miriel,� Buffy tried to reason. �Maybe after you get a few kills under your belt, your confidence will increase and then - �

The elder Slayer�s voice stopped as the scenery blurred in a swirling of white light. Next thing she knew, she and Miriel stood on a balcony of a tower that overlooked a city that lay in ruins.

�This is Osgiliath, once a mighty city of my people. The strength of Mordor wiped it out long ago, not to mention the fair lands of Ithilien.� Miriel then lifted her hand, pointing slightly to the northeast. �That�s Minas Morgul, which once belonged to the realm of Gondor. It�s now occupied by the Nine, the Ring-wraiths, creatures of terror they are. Evil is all they know, what they breed. It is said that they were men once, men who learned the art of sorcery from their master and now dwell between life and death. They are merely his servants but when they are about, they instill dread and fear in even the bravest of men. They are unstoppable and learned in the darkest of magicks. Even they I would not confront.

�And if you look beyond that, further to the east, you can see Orodruin, Mount Doom, it�s called by some. That is the home of Sauron. There he dwells in the bowels of fire, where he never sleeps and keeps constant watch on our borders, plotting our destruction. No army has yet been able to defeat him. And even if you were to muster an army of Slayers, you would not be able to overthrow him. He is too strong. And, if what father says is true, he grows stronger each day.

�Nay, Buffy. It is my heart�s desire to travel as far from these lands as I can. Perhaps I can face off against some of his weaker servants, but not he himself. That, my soul sister, would be folly.�

Buffy gulped. She had never encountered an enemy of such magnitude as Sauron. She had mostly dealt with vampires living in pitiful lairs. Even Glory didn�t possess a vast army. She couldn�t imagine taking on an enemy such as Sauron. But, perhaps, given time, Miriel would be strong enough to do so. If Buffy trained her properly, then maybe she�d be ready to face one of such great strength.

As she stood there, staring at the Dark Lands, she could feel the hair on the nape of her neck standing on end. �I�ve never heard of Sauron,� she found herself uttering under her breath, still staring at Orodruin in the distance.

�He is known by many names, Sauron being the most common of them,� replied Miriel. �He�s known as the Deceiver. You may have encountered him under a different guise, or, perhaps, in your time, he has been ridden from E�. Who is it that can answer this riddle?�

�Not me,� answered Buffy with a sigh. She shifted her gaze back to Miriel. �I think I like the beach better. This place gives me the creeps.�

The younger Slayer smiled in response. Then, just like before, their surroundings became blurred, lost in a swirling light. When things came into focus, they were not seaside, but riverside. The two young women stood on a grassy knoll overlooking a wide and murky waterway - the Anduin River.

�Where is this place?� asked Buffy, looking around at their new surroundings. The riverbank gently sloped to the water�s edge. Behind them was a scattering of trees that offered shade from the afternoon sun. Amidst the grass were flowers of various colors, which gently waved in the warm breeze. The air was fragrant, but not overly so. There was a wholesomeness about the land, though it seemed deserted.

�This is actually Ithilien, as I�ve seen it in a portrait back home,� answered Miriel. �It is not a place often visited by my people any more. Mostly the Rangers come to these parts, doing what they can to waylay the enemy. It is yet another place in Gondor that the Dark Lord has forced us to abandon. I find it fair, even if I am able to only see it in my dreams.�

�That�s sad,� replied Buffy dishearteningly. �That Sauron guy must be some bad ass.�

�He is the most horrible creature that walks the earth.� Miriel then locked her eyes on the elder Slayer. After a moment, she said, �Can I ask you something?�

�Of course,� answered Buffy, shifting her gaze to the taller Slayer.

�Do you do this often? I mean, enter another�s dream like this. I�ve never had anyone do this sort of thing before. And I must say it is rather strange - extraordinary, but strange,� the girl remarked in her bewilderment.

�No, I can�t say that I have,� responded Buffy. She suddenly remembered the dream that she had shared with Faith. �Wait a sec. Yes, I have. There was one time when I was unconscious and I entered another Slayer�s dream - or did she enter mine?� she queried to herself. �I guess it really doesn�t matter whose dream it was. But yeah. I have.�

�Did it help or serve any purpose in any way?�

�As a matter of fact it did. Faith told me how to defeat Mayor Wilkins - he was the Big Bad at the time. He wanted to become a full-fledged demon, which was not a pretty sight, I might add. But, yeah, she told me his weakness and I was able to use that against him. We ended up blowing him to smithereens, along with Sunnydale High.�

�So, was she a Slayer from the past, like me?�

�Oh, no,� answered Buffy with a shake of her head. �She was alive, but in a coma.�

�I do not understand,� said the baffled girl. �I thought that there was only one Slayer in the world at a time. At least, that�s what is written in the annals of Gondor.�

�Well, that�s kinda true,� replied the elder Slayer, �except I had died - but only for a minute or two. That triggered Faith being called.�

�You died?!� exclaimed Miriel, shocked by that revelation.

�I drowned. But like I said, it was only for a minute or two. One of my friends brought me back,� answered Buffy nonchalantly.

Miriel stood there with her jaw agape, amazed that this Slayer standing before her had died and come back. That was unheard of. Nothing like that had happened since the Elder Days when Beren and L�thien were given a second chance at life. At least, Miriel couldn�t recall any other instances where Mandos had released one from his Halls.

�You must be an amazing Slayer,� she stated, her voice full of awe.

Buffy brushed off the girl�s comment with a shrug. �It�s no biggie. If someone drowns, it�s easy to bring �em back, as long as you know CPR.�

Of course, Miriel didn�t know what CPR was, and the elder Slayer was quick to explain it to her.

The young girl looked at Buffy in a new light. She found herself captivated by her. And when the more experienced Slayer began to show Miriel techniques in hand-to-hand combat, she was even more impressed with her abilities.

They spent several hours (or so it seemed) working on offensive and defensive methods of attack. Buffy taught Miriel that her body was her greatest asset, and how to use it to her advantage in battle. Weapons, Buffy had explained, were merely an extension of a Slayer, and, while helpful in combat, it was a Slayer�s strength and agility that she would rely on the most.

When they heard the distant voice of Bregolas carrying on the wind, calling out Miriel�s name, they knew that their time was up.

Before the girl woke, Buffy said, �Hey. You know how you�ve been having problems with the bow.�

�Don�t remind me,� moaned Miriel.

The elder Slayer chuckled. �That friend of yours, Bregolas, he�s brought a lot of weapons. Among them is a crossbow. Give that a try. All you have to do is aim and pull the trigger. It�s much easier than your standard bows.�

�I�ll remember that,� answered Miriel, before turning and starting across the grass.

�Oh, and Miriel,� Buffy called out to her. �Try to sleep more often, okay. I kinda go stir-crazy when I�m alone in that mind of yours.�

Miriel smiled. �Consider it done.�

The younger Slayer then awoke�