Sad Wings of Destiny

Miriel, squinting her eyes because of the early morning light, groaned, �I�m awake.� The throbbing in her back returned full-force from whatever it was that had been jabbing her during the ride. She carefully shifted upright, attempting to clamber out of the cart. �What time is it?�

�It�s a little after nine,� answered Bregolas, helping her out of the wain. �We�ve made good time and have traveled some distance. I thought it best to pull off the road into this stretch of woods. We�ll eat a little and then sort through the things we�ve brought, as we cannot take it all. From here on out, we will travel on horseback and I�m afraid that we�ll both be over-burdened with too much supplies.�

The young Slayer began to walk off the stiffness in her limbs, and massaged the ache in her lower back. Though her conversation with Buffy remained vividly in her mind, she had decided not to share the details of that experience with Bregolas. She didn�t think he would understand, or, perhaps he would think she had gone mad. She supposed it would seem rather outlandish from his perspective. No, it would be best to keep that to herself.

As Miriel stretched her legs, the warrior updated her on their progress. They had been traveling on the Great West Road, but had peeled off, coming to a halt at the edge of Druadan Forest, which was on the northern side of the White Mountains. They were still in An�rien, one of the chief farming areas that supplied Minas Tirith with much of their foodstuffs. Bregolas thought it was best to stop and talk with Miriel about their options, as he wanted her input on which way they should go.

She still wanted to go north, as she had always planned. While Miriel had no intention of going too deep into Rohan, she had studied her map well enough to know that they�d have to continue to travel on the Great West Road into Th�oden�s realm in order to cross the ford on the Entwash, which would be the easiest route north.

�Ah, looks like I found the culprit responsible for your back pain,� chortled the warrior, holding a crossbow in his hand. �I�m surprised that it did not break! I guess lebethron is more durable than I�d realized.�

Miriel locked her eyes on the weapon, remembering what Buffy had told her only minutes before. �May I?� she queried, reaching for the crossbow.

Bregolas handed it to her.

�Why have you never taught me how to use this?� she asked, inspecting the black wooden object closely.

The warrior shrugged. �I suppose I didn�t because it doesn�t require much skill really. Just aim and shoot is all. The bow requires more finesse and is able to shoot farther. That is why Gondor�s armies prefer it to the crossbow. The more distance between you and the enemy - the better.�

�Hmm, true,� she answered. �I should like to take this though.�

�Suit yourself,� replied Bregolas, �although, I did bring you a sword as well. Before we leave, I want you to gird it around your waist. But, that can wait until after we eat.�

Miriel�s stomach grumbled at the mere mention of food. �I�m famished,� she remarked, suddenly realizing how hungry she was.

�Well, I�m afraid that our meal will not be what you�re normally accustomed to,� answered Bregolas, grabbing one of the sacks containing their victuals. �What food we have, we�ll have to ration, since we haven�t decided where our path lies just yet.�

They sat down on the back of the cart and shared a small loaf of bread and a handful of grapes. There was no jam or butter and the bread seemed to stick in the back of the girl�s throat. Bregolas was right; she was not used to such meager offerings. But, she wouldn�t complain, as the warrior had promised that their afternoon meal would be heartier.

Bregolas constantly watched her out of the corner of his eye, somewhat surprised by her demeanor. He had expected to find Miriel in the same state as mind as she had been the night before - dazed and grim. Yet, today, she seemed back to her old self. Perhaps she had decided to leave the past behind, including the memories of her torments. If that were true, then she was made out of tougher stuff than he had originally thought, and he found her even more amazing.

At this juncture, they were on their own. And, if Bregolas could come to depend on her like a fellow warrior, then that would put him more at ease. Well, as much at ease as one can be, knowing that the wrath of the Steward of Gondor was not too far behind. The more leagues they put between themselves and Minas Tirith, the better. The hunt would begin soon, undoubtedly, and Bregolas hoped beyond anything that he and his beloved would not be found.

While they ate, Miriel stared in the distance, thinking. She wondered how far Denethor would send his men in search of her. Would they comb the whole of Middle-earth or just Gondor�s borders? Would her father use the palant�r to find them, or would it be useful at all? She wished there was some way she could disguise herself - but how? She couldn�t change her sex, nor did she want to. But that didn�t stop her from thinking that if she could change her looks even a little, it might help.

�Are you alright?� asked Bregolas, noticing the scowl on Miriel�s face.

�Yes, I�m fine,� she answered, turning toward the warrior. �I think we should go north, way north. I�ve read that the remnant of the Watcher�s Council still dwells in the Northern Kingdom. I would like to go there and find them, find the Watchers, I mean.�

Bregolas� brows shot up in surprise. �Arnor has been destroyed for centuries. There are none that dwell there!�

�That�s not true,� she countered. �They are scattered about those parts, or so the scrolls say.�

�And when were those scrolls written, Miriel, eh?� he queried, cocking his brow. �It is merely myth.�

�My heart tells me otherwise,� she answered resolutely. �And that is where I wish to go. If you do not agree, then perhaps we should part ways, here and now.�

The warrior looked at the young woman in stunned disbelief. Then, he laughed. �And who�s to say that any of these so-called Watchers still live? You are chasing a dream, Miriel. I have trained you well enough. There is no need to seek out these people.�

She rose from the back of the cart, standing tall over a seated Bregolas. �I do not wish to be mocked or ridiculed. I�m a Slayer, and a Slayer needs her Watcher - a real Watcher, who understands what I am.� She stomped off into the woods.

Bregolas would let her be for a few minutes. Maybe he was overreacting about that whole Watcher business. Yet, it seemed to him that Miriel didn�t understand how long and dangerous the road was to Arnor, (or what was left of it). Would he be better off to amuse her and go? And what would happen when they arrived only to find a land barren of people? Perhaps, once she came to that realization, they could set up house together. With Denethor out of the picture, there was none stopping him from making Miriel his wife. She had seemed willing enough a day ago.

Yes, he thought. We can live together far from the might of Denethor. In the north lands, none will hinder us.

He leapt to his feet and followed the path Miriel had taken into the forest. He found her in a small clearing, basking in the sunlight.

�I�m sorry, Miriel,� he apologized. �I�ve been a fool. I will lead us to the Northern Kingdom, as you wish.�

The young woman spun around, grinning. �Thank you.� She paused, the smile fading from her face. �I have one more favor to ask of you.�

Bregolas grimaced, instantly disheartened at the prospect of a request that he had not yet heard.

A small smile returned to Miriel�s face. She reached out, grasped the hilt of the dagger strapped around his waist and pulled it from it sheath. She held the blade in front of his bewildered face.

�Take it,� she instructed.

The warrior did as ordered. �Now what?� he asked.

Miriel turned around. �Cut off my hair, to about here,� she answered, motioning to the top of her shoulders.

�What? What for?� he said in dismay. Bregolas loved her long hair.

�Just do it!� Miriel barked in reply.

�I will not!� he replied, taking a step backwards. �Your hair is a part of your beauty. I will have no part in cutting it.�

The young woman turned around, her eyes narrowed. �It�s only hair, Bregolas,� she snapped back, rolling her eyes. �If you will not do it, then I will do it myself!� She stepped forward, reaching for the knife.

Bregolas held it behind his back. �Come on, Miriel. There is no need to go to such extremes. As long as you keep your hair braided, it won�t be a hindrance.�

�It is not your choice to make, son of Halthor,� she replied snippily. She paused, thinking of a different angle to persuade the warrior into doing the deed. �I�m sure you will not mind stopping on the road so that I can wash and tend to my hair as often as needed. Do you think my hair looks this way on its own? And some of those items that you demanded I leave behind because they were �of little worth� were for my hair. Or, is it that you would like for me to look like some wild, beastly woman with tangled and matted hair? Does that appeal to you, my lord?�

Bregolas groaned in discontent. �Turn around,� he then said.

She did.

The warrior then grabbed hold of her long braid, pulling it taut as cut the hair just below her shoulders. He convinced himself that it would grow back, that it was only hair. When he finished, he stared sadly at the hair in his hand.

�How liberating!� exclaimed Miriel, running her fingers through her considerably shorter hair. �It feels like a weight has been removed. How lovely.�

Bregolas watched as the braid began to gradually undo itself. He clasped his fingers tightly to the one end that was not tied, stopping it from unraveling further. �Can I have this?� he asked, glancing up at the young woman.

She laughed. �If that is your heart�s desire, then knock yourself out,� she answered, using the expression she had heard from Buffy.

He looked at her oddly for a moment, but then turned his attention back to the hair in his hands, holding it as if it were some sacred object, which Miriel found slightly disturbing. Bregolas then took off down the game trail, with Miriel following behind. When he reached the wain, he tied the other end of the hair before slipping it carefully into one of his bags.

Once that was done, he watered the horses, which had been grazing on the tufts of grass beside the woods. She and Bregolas then began going through the gear, deciding which things they�d take with them.

�I brought you this,� he said, dangling a shirt of mail before her. �Put it on,� he added, tossing the shirt of metal rings to her. �I want you to wear it at all times.�

Miriel pulled off her cloak and slipped the shirt of mail over her clothing. The warrior then strapped her sword around her waist. �Look at you,� he remarked with a smile. �You could pass for one of Gondor�s finest� especially now that your hair is shorter.�

�Then that is a good thing,� she answered. �Perhaps strangers will not give us a second look, thinking we are on some errand for the Steward.�

�I doubt that,� chuckled Bregolas. �You still look very womanly! Any fool could see that!�

Miriel felt her face blush. She quickly realized she could no longer conceal her face behind her curtain of long hair, a realization which made her face turn redder.

There were quite a few things that Bregolas had brought that Miriel had never even considered. He had packed a small tent that would help protect them on rainy nights, and their bedrolls, another item she had overlooked. She now felt reassured having someone like Bregolas with her. He paid more attention to details than she had.

Once they had saddled the horses, they packed as much gear onto the steeds that they could. Unfortunately, they would still be burdened by carrying additional bags on their backs and shoulders. Before Miriel even mounted her horse, the straps from the bags were already digging uncomfortably into her flesh. The weight already seemed so great that she refused to take the shield Bregolas had brought her.

�You may have need for it!� he insisted.

�Then, I�ll use one of these cumbersome bags, if need be,� she moaned in response. �I cannot carry another thing!�

Before climbing onto his steed, Bregolas dragged the wain into the woods. He didn�t want to make it too obvious to any passers-by where he and Miriel had stopped. They then took off on their horses, galloping beside the road to put more distance between them and Minas Tirith. They would stay on that course, traveling along the base of Ered Nimrais for quite some time�



Denethor had decided to eat his midday meal in the Citadel, apart from his guests and kinfolk. After one of his �romantic interludes� (as he always referred to them) with his daughter, he always demanded that she join him for the midday meal, whether she suffered from melancholy or not. It had become normal practice, and today would be no different. He had sent word for Andreth to wake his only daughter.

Seated at the table, he picked up a rose from the vase, deeply inhaling the fragrant scent as he twirled the stem with his fingers. He had a faraway look in his eye, recalling a moment from time�s past. In the Steward�s warped mind, he believed that Miriel was the reincarnation of Finduilas, or so he had convinced himself. That idea had not sprung into his mind out of the blue, but had been planted there by none other than the Dark Lord himself.

When the son of Ecthelion had begun using the palant�r nearly seventeen years ago, he had opened the door of his mind and realm to Sauron. When Miriel was but a little girl, the evil Maia perceived that she would one day be called as a Slayer, a Slayer that could threaten his station in Middle-earth. Wanting to determine if what he had foreseen was true or not, Sauron had guised himself as Miriel�s grandfather, visiting the girl when she was still a small child. Unsure even after his visit, he kept a close eye on Miriel, waiting until her aura showed signs of her Slayer powers.

In December of the previous year, he had seen the change. He�d seen that those meddlesome fools in the West had chosen the daughter of Denethor as their next Slayer. If there was one thing that Sauron detested, it was the Slayer. He had only encountered two in his many years of life, one during the Second Age, the other, during Yr 549 of the current one. The first one he had had the pleasure of killing in N�menor, right before his own downfall. A part of him still blamed that girl for the destruction of the fair hr�a he had created to deceive the Elves. Never again would he possess the power to remake his bodily form as it once had been. The second, well, the second Slayer that had arisen in Middle-earth had been killed easily enough by a horde of Orcs. As a reward, his servants had delighted in a feast of her flesh.

Now, after all this time, a third had surfaced, and one of noble blood. Sauron hated Denethor and the people of Gondor with a passion. The Gondorian forces remained a constant thorn in his side. Preparing for the possibility that Miriel would be one of those super-empowered girls, he had thought long and hard to plot her destruction.

His thoughts had turned to his Lord and mentor, the mighty Melkor Bauglir, who had been unjustly thrust into The Void for his deeds during the First Age. Of all those that Melkor had tormented, the children of H�rin had suffered most. The incestuous relationship of T�rin and Nienor was a well-known tragedy, known not only to the Elves, but also to the nobility of Gondor.

Remembering that helped Sauron devise his scheme to destroy not one bird, but two, with a single stone. Boromir and Faramir would be of no use for he could not master their minds unless they dared to look into the palant�r, something that had not yet happened and mostly likely wouldn�t. The Dark Lord then turned his attention to the one that often sought solace in the seeing-stone - Denethor. What a betrayal of trust it would be for Miriel if her father were to force himself upon her! The malice of Melkor lived still - and Sauron would happily carry out his plan with gusto.

When the Steward next looked into the palant�r, Sauron was there at the ready. Finduilas� death had broken Denethor�s heart and the evil Maia knew that she would be the key to manipulating the Lord of Gondor�s mind. He hinted that Finduilas� f�a had passed on to her daughter at the time of her death, but not until she was older would she understand what had happened. It would take the love of her husband and the acts that would take place in the marital bed to gradually return his beloved�s memories of her former life.

Not two months later, Denethor had seduced his only daughter, using his authority to force her to submit to his advances. Sauron had hoped that that would break Miriel emotionally, that she would succumb to her shame and take her own life. Unfortunately, that hadn�t happened. So his goal turned to having her flee the city. If he could get her to depart Minas Tirith, then he could capture her in the wilds and amuse himself by making her suffer. Yes, the Slayer would pay, and would one day come to regret the day she had ever been born. Things would soon get interesting.



�My lord! My lord!� screeched Andreth as she came scrambling into the Great Hall of the Citadel.

Denethor shook himself out of his thoughts, turning his eyes to the woman.

�Miriel�s door will not open! And she does not answer when I call!� revealed the woman between gasps.

�What do you mean the door will not open?� queried Denethor, his eyes narrowing as he spoke.

�It will not budge, nor will the handle turn,� Andreth answered, still breathless from her sprint. �It appears stuck, my lord.�

Annoyed at what he deemed was incompetence, the Steward placed the flower on his plate before rising from his stone seat. �If you want something done, you have to do it yourself,� he grumbled under his breath as he stormed across the chamber toward the door. Andreth took off after him.

Together, they exited the Citadel and crossed the courtyard to the King�s House. The woman continued to follow Denethor as they climbed the staircase to the third floor. They then went down the corridor, stopping outside Miriel�s bedroom door.

The Lord of Gondor tried the door knob. It would not turn. He knocked on the door. �Miriel! Miriel! Open this door at once!� he demanded.

Silence.

He tried the knob again, lunging against the door with his body in hopes that it would spring open.

�I told you, my lord. It will not budge!� repeated Andreth.

Scowling, Denethor beat on the door with his fists. �Miriel - you open this door at once or you�ll be in big trouble young lady!�

Still nothing.

�Damn it!� hissed the Steward, turning and marching down the hallway. When he reached the stairway, he yelled for the guards, demanding that they bring an axe. He then returned to Miriel�s door, attempting to twist and turn the knob until help arrived.

Shouts from the guards rang out throughout the halls. The first one that arrived on the scene informed Denethor that an axe was on its way. He too tried the door, but the handle appeared stuck.

Two more guards soon came racing down the corridor, one holding an axe.

�Break it down!� ordered the Steward, stepping aside and pulling Andreth with him.

�I�m frightened, Denethor lord,� the woman said, eyeing the door nervously. �What if something has happened to our Miriel?�

�Nothing has happened,� snapped Denethor in reply.

The first blow of the axe splintered the wood of the door. The second cracked the panel open further, and with the third strike, the blade of the axe became imbedded in the wardrobe.

�What is this?� queried Siriondil, the guard who wielded the axe.

�What is it? What are you mumbling about?� demanded the Lord of Gondor.

�There is something barring the door, my lord,� the man answered, trying to free his weapon from the thick wood of the cabinet.

Denethor frowned, and every wrinkle on his face became more pronounced. He balled his fists as rage began to swell within him. His nostrils flared like some wild beast�s. �Get it open!� he hissed between clenched teeth, his body beginning to tremble with wrath, suspecting something sinister had taken place.

Siriondil continued to hack at the door, breaking away the fragments of wood until there was a gaping hole in the door. He pushed against the wardrobe, but it would not move. His strength was not enough. He summoned another to aid him, and together they heaved their shoulders against the cabinet, which barely moved an inch.

Rubbing his sore shoulder, Siriondil cried out, �How can this be? How can the strength of two men not move this wardrobe? What devilry keeps this cursed object here?�

�I do not care how! Smash it to smithereens if you must!� answered a furious Denethor.

Siriondil handed the axe to Damrod. �You give it try.�

Using all his strength, Damrod struck in rapid succession at the wardrobe, shouting with each strike. The wood began to fly apart, revealing the garments housed inside.

The racket on the third floor corridor brought others running onto the scene. Not to mention that word was spreading rather quickly throughout the seventh level of the city, even reaching the ears of Boromir, Faramir, Imrahil and Elphir, who hastily joined the enclave of people congregated in the hallway.

Once the newcomers were informed of the predicament, Boromir pushed his way through the throng toward the door, demanding that he could break through the barricade. With the top half of the wardrobe nearly destroyed, the Steward�s heir reached through the hole of the door and pushed on the cabinet with all his might. However, the piece of furniture didn�t move.

Frustrated, he snatched the axe from Damrod�s hands and began to hack away at the remainder of the door, thinking that that obstruction was hindering the removal of the wardrobe. When most of the door had been removed, he asked Damrod to help him push the cabinet backwards, away from the door frame. They huffed and puffed, but even with two brawny men pushing with all their might, the cabinet remained in the same place.

Boromir went to knock the doors of the wardrobe open, thinking there must be something on the other side. The doors opened slightly before hitting another object.

�Just as I thought,� he declared breathlessly. �There is something behind this.�

The eldest son of Denethor then thought about sliding the wardrobe to the side, or, tipping it over. Being in an awkward position made shifting the heavy piece of furniture most difficult.

�Help me, Damrod,� he instructed his underling.

The man stepped up beside the Captain and together they pushed on the wardrobe. Gradually, it began to skid across the floor, revealing a second wardrobe standing behind it. When the opening was large enough to squeeze through, Boromir entered the room, followed by Denethor and the rest of the men.

�Miriel! Miriel!� cried out Boromir, his eyes quickly scanning the chamber for his sister before he made a beeline to the bathroom.

Upon entering the room, the Steward immediately noticed Miriel�s nightgown pinned to the column with a dagger. Shaking with rage, he stormed over to the pillar, grasped the garment, and pulled out the dagger. Clutching the gown in his hand, he went over to the bed, which was littered with odds and ends.

�She�s not here,� announced Boromir, returning to his father�s side.

�I do not understand,� chimed in Faramir. �How could she leave?�

Denethor�s eyes shot to the opened windows. He hastily made his way to them, his eyes searching below for some evidence that his daughter had escaped that way.

With his two sons standing on either side of him, the Steward growled, �Find the son of Halthor! Now!�

�You think Bregolas had something to do with this?� queried Boromir.

�Is that not obvious?� hissed Denethor sharply in reply. �I refused him Miriel�s hand, and now� � he paused, seething with anger, �and now he has absconded with my only daughter.� His eyes, glinting with rage, narrowed. �I want that thief brought to the Citadel to face my wrath!� He turned to Boromir, his expression softening. The Steward then added, �Find her, Boromir. Find the jewel of my heart.�

His firstborn gave a curt nod of his head before turning. He motioned for Faramir to join him and together they fled the room.

The Lord of Gondor then turned to the others in the chamber. �Find Miriel! Search the entire city! Anyone who has seen her or Bregolas, son of Halthor, is to be brought to the Citadel.� He then stormed out of the room, still clutching Miriel�s nightgown in his hand.

Most of the men filed out of the room until only Imrahil and Elphir remained behind. They stood beside the bed, looking at the items scattered about on the covers.

�What do you think, Father?� asked Elphir. �Do you think that Miriel ran away with Bregolas?�

Imrahil sighed heavily. �Most likely,� he replied, turning toward the spot where the two wardrobes had once stood. His eyes searched the floor for skid marks from the cabinets. �Hmm,� he sounded.

�What is it?� asked his oldest son.

�I am troubled at heart, my son,� he answered, walking the path from where the cabinets had once stood toward the main door of the room. �How is it that there are no markings on the floor? You�ve seen with your eyes how difficult it was for Boromir and Damrod to move the wardrobe. How was it that those heavy furnishings moved all the way across the room without leaving so much as a scratch on the floor?� He stopped beside the wardrobes, pointing to the marring on the floor at the hands of Boromir and Damrod. �See!� He then turned his gaze to the cabinets� original positions. �How did they get here?� he asked softly. �Bregolas is a strong man, but I do not see how he was able to carry them so far. That cannot be.� Imrahil shook his head. �I�m afraid something diabolical is at work here.�

�I do not understand, Father,� responded Elphir, wearing the same perplexed expression on his face as the Lord of Dol Amroth. �What do you mean?�

�I do not know myself, Elphir.� Imrahil then shifted his gaze to the window. �And how exactly did they escape? Perhaps the guards saw something in the night.� He pursed his lips together, thinking. How ever, Miriel had escaped, her uncle was under the impression that it was her choice. The question was: why? He did not believe it was for the reason that Denethor had said. It was something else. And the Lord of Dol Amroth was determined to get to the bottom of it. �Let us join Denethor, and wait for any news,� he then said, starting out of the room.

�Do you think Miriel and Bregolas will head to Dol Amroth?� asked Elphir, as he walked alongside his father. �She seemed crushed when Denethor said she couldn�t go.�

�It�s a possibility, my son,� he replied grimly.



Of course, the entire household was in an uproar. Guards began searching the King�s House from top to bottom, even though there was little hope of finding Miriel hidden in some part of the castle.

Boromir and Faramir headed to the stables. It would be much quicker to ride to the second level than to walk. An hour had already passed since the discovery that Miriel�s door had been barricaded, and talk of her disappearance was rapidly spreading throughout the lower levels of Minas Tirith.

The sons of Denethor encountered a terrified Lind�r hiding in one of the empty stalls, nearly beside himself over the part he had played in Bregolas� scheme. Upon seeing the mighty Captains, he confessed to his role of providing two horses, one for Bregolas and the other for the woman he had been told was Elwen, from Dol Amroth.

Lind�r, crouched at the sons of Denethor�s feet, wept in fear. �I swear, my lords, I did not know she was the Lady Miriel. I swear on my life!� he cried.

Boromir scoffed at the man. �How could you believe such a story? Bregolas and my sister have been inseparable for months! You would have to be a fool to believe that he would bed another!�

�Why don�t you ride on to Bregolas� home?� suggested Faramir. �I�ll handle things here.�

�You know Father will want to speak with him,� said Boromir, motioning toward the stable-hand with his head, as he mounted his steed.

�Of course,� replied Faramir. �Just hurry, Boromir.�

The Steward�s heir then took off.

Faramir immediately consoled Lind�r. �Do not be so hard on yourself, Lind�r. I do not blame you. You were deceived, like the rest of us. But, come now.� He helped the man to his feet. �I have to take you before the Steward.� He handed the man a handkerchief. �Just tell him the truth. That is all you can do.� The Captain then led the distraught man from the stables.



A livid Denethor sat upon his throne. Having lost his appetite, he had had his servants remove the table laden with food from the Great Hall. On his lap, lay Miriel�s gown. He stared at the rip in the material. In one of his hands, he clutched the rod of his office. He held it so tightly that both his knuckles and fingers had turned white.

The door to the chamber opened, and in walked Galdor, escorted by two of his fellow guardsmen. Denethor lifted his gaze, locking his eyes on the horrified man. The guard was brought before the throne of the Steward.

�Speak!� ordered Denethor, his cold voice echoing within the mammoth chamber.

Galdor then told him what had transpired earlier that morning between him and Bregolas. As he spoke, the Steward scrutinized the man with his piercing grey eyes, but said not one word. He realized that Galdor had been duped, something Denethor would come to see had happened with each and every witness that would be brought before his throne that afternoon.

During the questioning of Lind�r, Imrahil arrived with Elphir. Both remained seated to the left of Denethor throughout each interrogation.

By the time that Boromir arrived back at the Citadel, the Lord of Gondor was already piecing together the story. There was no longer any doubt in his mind that his daughter and Bregolas had fled the city, and that this plot of theirs had been well thought out. This infuriated him even more.

It was late afternoon when Denethor finished questioning each guard and gatekeeper that had encountered Bregolas in the early hours of the morning. He then summoned his four mightiest Captains, including his two sons. When all were assembled, he announced, �I want my daughter brought back to me, safe and sound. Kill the thief, if need be. I care not! Send men out north, south, west and east of Gondor�s borders. They could not have gone too far.�

The Captains were then dismissed so that they could rally their men together. It was nearly seven o� clock when they finally left the main gates of Minas Tirith, which gave Miriel and Bregolas a nearly fifteen-hour head start.



Little did any know that the Dark Lord was well aware of all that was taking place. His Orcs had already been dispatched, hiding in strategic locations along Gondor�s borders. They were given orders not to waylay Miriel and Bregolas, but to hinder any that attempted to follow the same path that the couple had taken.

Sauron wanted to make sure that Miriel was far from Gondor before he tested her strength. He was determined to have some fun with this Slayer, and to introduce her to the true meaning of agony and despair�