Sad Wings of Destiny

Miriel kept first watch since Bregolas hadn�t slept in over twenty-four hours. It was twilight and steadily growing darker by the minute. They had traveled over one hundred miles when they decided to stop for the night. The couple had followed the road until they reached the western border of Gondor. They had left the road when it went through another stretch of woods, the first they had come across since leaving the Druadan Forest earlier in the day. They veered off the road, riding north along its edge, stopping when they reached the Mering Stream. Bregolas had said that that was a perfect place to rest for the night since they had a plentiful supply of water and the forest would provide some cover. They were still in Gondor, (in An�rien to be exact), but would enter Rohan when they crossed the stream the following morning.

A few hours earlier, they had heard the Great Horn blowing, signaling that the hunt had begun. Boromir had always blown that horn before he had departed Minas Tirith. Miriel reckoned that was a good thing, as it indicated when Denethor had finally sent out men to track her and Bregolas. While her companion found no comfort in knowing that the pursuit was on, Miriel was confident that they would elude their pursuers. She wondered if that was because of that woman�s intuition thing that Andreth had always spoken about. Regardless, she had no intention of being caught and would rather die than return to the life she had left behind.

Suddenly, Miriel heard the distinctive sound of a twig snapping in two, startling her. She jumped, instinctively pulling the trigger on the crossbow, sending a flying projectile into the darkness. With her heart racing frantically in her chest, her wide eyes scanned the black shadows of the forest, searching for the intruder. She glanced down at Bregolas, who remained fast asleep, unfazed by the noise or her breathing, which sounded amplified to her ears.

It�s nothing, she told herself. Just a beast of some sort.

Maybe it�s a dragon! warned the other voice in her mind. Maybe it�s a dragon sent by Sauron!

�Stop it, Miriel!� she chastised herself, attempting to dispel her growing paranoia.

The Slayer had been born and raised in Minas Tirith and was not used to the nighttime sounds, particularly those found in the woods. She heard noises that she had never heard before. Some had to be insects of some sort, since they made a strange, buzzing-type sound. Others were birds - maybe nightingales that most likely called that forest home.

Her thoughts then darkened, recalling some of the tales that she had heard from her father. He had said that the Dark Lord used both beasts and birds to act as his spies, and that was how Sauron communicated with his evil followers out in the field. Miriel found that to be a most unpleasant thought, especially since the forest seemed to be alive with critters of all sorts.

Hearing a fluttering of wings, she spun around, pointing her unloaded weapon at the treetops in search of whatever flying creature it could be. She then became angry with herself for letting her imagination run wild. She turned away from the woods and rearmed her weapon. She walked over to the horses to check on them. They were as still as statues, except for their tails, which swished from side to side. Miriel didn�t know if they were shooing away some unseen bugs or just felt like moving their tails out of boredom.

She found herself unable to keep still and began to pace along the eaves of the woods. Her backside and inner thighs remained sore from riding so long and the thought of sitting had lost all its appeal. She wished there was some way she could talk with Buffy to help pass the time. Sentry duty proved to be boring beyond the thought of it. Throughout the rest of her watch, Miriel remained somewhat jumpy. Morning couldn�t come soon enough for her.



When Bregolas awoke in the wee hours of the morning, they sat up together, waiting for the crack of dawn. After a quick, scant breakfast, they filled their water skins and then set out for another long day of riding. Knowing that the others had departed Minas Tirith, they decided to stay off all roads and avoid all settlements. They crossed the ford on the Onodl� (Entwash) early that morning and then galloped through the open plains of Rohan, riding north-northwest of the river.

Though the horses were doing most of the work, the journey proved long and hard for Miriel and Bregolas. Once the sun had risen, the heat became nearly unbearable. Sweat poured, not only from the riders, but also from their steeds. And the heat wasn�t the worst of it either. The straps from the bags dug painfully into their shoulders, owing to the weight of the contents, which strained their backs. Already they were miserable, and it was only day two since their departure from Minas Tirith!

Another thing that Miriel found somewhat depressing was the lack of conversation. When one is galloping across the land, holding a conversation is quite difficult. All that free time allowed one�s mind to wander, to think of things that should be forgotten. As much as she was loath to admit it, there was a time or two when the Slayer thought of returning home. There were even times when she glanced longingly over her shoulder, knowing that her home was on the other side of the mountain chain which was beginning to appear smaller the further north they went. She was actually beginning to weigh the pros and cons of running away from home when Bregolas finally called for a break.

Dismounting from her horse and removing her heavy burdens seemed to snap Miriel back to her senses. She stretched her legs a bit before she and Bregolas shared their afternoon meal. They sat down together on a blanket, eating while they studied the map.

�I�d say we�re about twenty miles from the East Wall of Rohan and Emyn Muil,� said the warrior, pointing to their approximate location on the map. �I am not at all familiar with this part of Rohan, having only been to Edoras twice in my life. But, it is said that here,� he moved his finger northwest of Emyn Muil to the Anduin River, �where the Great River bends, that there are many shoals and the river is not too deep. We will be able to cross here easily enough.�

Miriel looked intently at the map, chewing on a wedge of cheese. �And then which direction shall we take? The ancient kingdom is further west, in Eriador.�

�True,� replied Bregolas. �I think it is best that we cross the Brown Lands and follow the course of the Anduin along its eastern bank until we reach the Old Forest Road, here,� he added, pointing to a road a couple hundred miles to the north.

Miriel�s eyes widened when she saw the route the warrior wanted to take. �I do not like that path, Bregolas, for many reasons. I would not like to set foot in the Brown Lands, for starters. Only rumor of it makes me shudder. And you would have us travel close to the borders of Dol Guldur - �

� - Miriel,� interrupted Bregolas. �The Brown Lands are merely a desolate region. Sure, it is unpleasant, but there is naught to fear there. It is deserted by friend and foe alike. And we will not be anywhere near Dol Guldur. I�d say we will not come within seventy-five miles of that place. And it is said that it has been abandoned since long ago. Remember, Sauron has made Mordor his home.�

�How can I forget such a thing?!� she countered in dismay. �We have lived ever close to the Dark Lands� borders! That is something one does not forget!� She shifted her eyes back to the map. �I do not think that Sauron�s Orcs have abandoned their former home. My heart tells me that evil still lurks in southern Mirkwood. I would like for us to find another way, Bregolas. A safer way.�

The warrior groaned in frustration. He thought that the course he had chosen was best, considering that the armies of Gondor were hot on their tail.

�Listen, Miriel. The only other option - and one that I would not like to take - is for us to turn around and go southwest, following the main road to the Gap of Rohan. If we do that, all the many leagues we put between us and our pursuers will be for nothing. They will catch up to us and we will be caught.� His face became grim. Cocking a brow, he asked, �Is that what you want? To be caught and forced to return to your father?�

�No!�

�Whichever path we take will be dangerous,� Bregolas continued. �I will see to it that no harm befalls you, Miriel. I promise. I cannot stress how important it is for us to take the road least traveled, one that our pursuers would not expect. Chances are, they will stick to the main roads.� He paused before adding, �Trust me on this. This is something I have done on numerous occasions - choosing which path I deem safest.�

�I�m sorry for doubting you. You are the experienced one. I will go wherever you say, Bregolas.�

�Thank you, Miriel.�

Shortly thereafter, they packed up their stuff, climbed atop their horses and set off once again. They stayed on the same course, riding along the western side of Emyn Muil and its jagged rock wall. To their west, the terrain rose into mighty green hills. They stuck to a path between two rocky ridges that sloped downwards toward the river.

By late afternoon, grey clouds rolled in from the east, threatening rain. Darkness was quickly overtaking them, dashing their hopes of crossing the Anduin by nightfall. They were forced to stop much earlier than expected. While they set up their tent on a small knoll, the first drops of cold rain began to fall. The couple was fortunate enough to make it inside before the downpour.

Bregolas suggested that Miriel sleep first. She readily agreed to that.



�I�m really proud of you,� Buffy told her in her dream, as they walked through a landscape eerily similar to the one that Miriel and Bregolas had stopped for the night.

�For what?� queried the younger Slayer.

�For doing what you�re doing. It takes some balls to walk away from your old life. And all this,� Buffy motioned to their surroundings, �is so different for you. It�s like you�re embarking on this new adventure into the unknown.�

�That does not sound pleasant.�

�Well, change isn�t always pleasant, but it�s a part of life. Everything changes whether we want it to or not. I think you�re doing the right thing.�

�I had no other choice, really,� answered Miriel with a sigh. She stopped, looking to the north. �I cannot help but feel that we are heading toward danger, that the path Bregolas has chosen is not the correct one.�

Buffy followed Miriel�s gaze. �It�s like he said, Miriel. Danger lurks no matter which direction you take. Don�t let yourself become consumed with fear. You�re a Slayer, a warrior. At some point, you�re gonna face your fears� �

Miriel quickly turned toward the elder Slayer, a look of horror on her face.

�And you�ll defeat them,� answered Buffy, smiling reassuringly at the girl. �Your first confrontation is always the scariest. But once you make that first kill, it awakens something inside, some primal thing,� she explained. �It�s always been there, but once it comes out - watch out! You become a killing machine.�

�I hope you�re right,� answered Miriel. �I am truly frightened, Buffy. I do not like the unknown.�

�I guess no one does,� replied the elder Slayer. �But, that�s life. No one knows what the future holds, right?� She wrapped her arm comfortingly around her soul sister�s shoulders. �Don�t worry, Miriel. I�m here with you - in spirit, anyway. And you have Bregolas.�

�I suppose you�re right,� responded a dismal Miriel.

�So, what�s the deal with you two?� asked Buffy, linking her arm with the younger Slayer, and starting down the slope. �Your thoughts are like mumbo jumbo to me. I can�t clearly see your feelings for him.�

The girl shrugged. �I do not know how I feel.�

�I thought you loved him, that you wanted to marry him,� remarked Buffy, scrutinizing the taller Slayer.

�I thought you could not see my feelings for him,� replied Miriel with a wry smile.

�Well, that much I grasped.�

The young girl sighed. �I always believed that when you laid eyes upon that special someone - the one you are supposed to be with - you would know that he�s the one. Maybe I�ve read too many love stories of old and such things no longer exist.� She glanced at Buffy. �I never felt that way with Bregolas. I do care about him deeply� � Miriel paused, staring absently into the distance. �I just have this feeling that he is not the one I�m meant to be with, that there is someone else out there, waiting for me.� She snickered, shifting her eyes back to Buffy. �You must think I sound silly, dreaming of such things.�

�Nope. I can totally relate. I�m a firm believer in love at first sight.� Of course, Buffy�s thoughts turned to her first meeting with Angel and the butterflies she had had in her stomach when she first set eyes upon him.

�Love at first sight,� repeated Miriel dreamily. �What a lovely way of putting it.�

Buffy decided to forfeit training her prot�g�, preferring to ease the girl�s fears instead. They spent several hours talking together, not about slaying, but mostly about the mundane things in life.



With the rain keeping Bregolas inside, he passed the time by watching Miriel sleep. At times, he would gently caress her cheek or stroke her hair, longing for the day when he would make her his wife. When she stirred in her sleep, snuggling close to him, he smiled. Feeling such contentment, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her body close to his. The rain combined with the warmth emitting from Miriel caused the warrior�s eyes to grow heavy. Before he knew it, he too had fallen asleep.



A few hours later, the Slayer awoke, slightly disconcerted to find herself in Bregolas� arms. She carefully pulled herself free, trying her best not to wake the warrior. It was much darker than when she had gone to sleep and Miriel could only surmise that it must have been nighttime. Now sitting up, she listened intently. The rains had stopped. She peeked out of the tent, only to be greeted by the cool night air. The clouds had apparently dissipated earlier and the sky resembled a black canvas speckled with thousands of stars.

She eased back inside, preferring the warmth of the tent to the chilly night air. Pulling her legs to her chest, Miriel wrapped her arms protectively around them, wondering what the time was. She was surprised that her companion had fallen asleep, especially after his lectures on how one of them needed to stay awake while the other slept. Despite that, she would let him rest, as she was now wide-awake and would not be able to fall back to sleep. However, she did decide to lie back down, wanting to stretch out her body for as long as she could before facing another long day of riding with heavy packs on her back.

Bregolas woke a few hours later, well rested and in good spirits. He had said that the rains from the previous day had been a blessing since it had washed away their tracks, making it more difficult for those hunting them. With the sky still grey, they set out on their journey, hastening north once again.

Later that morning, they finally reached the Anduin River and Rohan�s northern boundary. A part of Miriel wanted to stop, and wash in the Great River, but Bregolas insisted that they keep going. They were still being followed and he wished to put many more miles between them and their pursuers.

So, off they went, galloping north across the desolate region where the War of the Last Alliance had been fought over three thousand years ago. The only vegetation was scattered thickets of thorns amongst the rocky terrain. Bregolas and Miriel tried to use care, avoiding the patches of briars so that the horses� legs would not get all scratched up.

The shortest way north would be crossing the hills that lay to their north and west in the Brown Lands, but the sides of the hills were steep and the paths too treacherous for the horses. They ended up skirting around the hills, adding more miles to their trip than intended. To their northeast, they could see the southern borders of Mirkwood, and former home of Sauron and the Nazg�ls. Miriel didn�t want to get any closer to the forest than need be. Even at a distance, the dark line of trees frightened her.

Due to the topography of the region, they couldn�t travel as quickly as they had before. Hidden amidst the thickets were sharp jagged rocks, which could harm the horses if they did not closely watch where they were going. By nightfall, they managed to wind their way back along the bank of Anduin. There they set up camp for the night.

Bregolas had given Miriel the choice of riding along the bank of the river, or taking the straightest route north - halfway between the Anduin and Mirkwood. That would put them much closer to the forest than she desired, but it would shave several miles off their trip. The warrior was in favor of taking the quickest path. The Slayer wanted to sleep on it, and would make her decision in the morning.

After packing up their gear at dawn, which happened to be the fourth day since their departure from Minas Tirith, Miriel had reached her decision. She had decided that she would confront her fears and follow Bregolas� advice to take the speediest way possible, even if that meant they had to travel closer to Sauron�s former home than she wanted.

With the land now level, the horses were free to gallop without threat of injury from the terrain. The couple rode northwest, wanting to strike a path midway between the Anduin and Mirkwood.

When the woods of Lothl�rien came into view, the Slayer insisted that they veer further west. She had heard much about the Golden Wood, more particularly, the tale of Amroth and Nimrodel, and hoped beyond anything that they�d glimpse an Elf or two if they traveled close to L�rien�s borders.

�I thought you said you wanted to take the quickest path,� remarked Bregolas, slowing his horse to a trot.

�But it�s L�rien, Bregolas!� pleaded Miriel. �My foremother came from that land long ago. I would love to at least look upon it while we ride. When will I ever get the opportunity to do so again?�

�We�ll be adding miles to our trip,� he cautioned.

�I do not care!� she answered, fixing her gaze toward the southeastern eaves of L�rien. �We are not following any sort of timetable. Time is all we have.�

�Alright, Miriel,� agreed Bregolas reluctantly. He was of the opinion that the Slayer had had a change of heart and wanted to stray further from the borders of southwestern Mirkwood. The warrior believed that she was using the whole foremother thing as a ruse. She had become very good at making up stories.

Unlike Miriel, Bregolas had no desire to tread close to the elven kingdom. Rumor had it that an Elven-Witch ruled that land, and the warrior didn�t want to encounter her in any way. In Gondor, it was said that the Elves resented Men, particularly those from Gondor since Isildur could have ended Sauron�s reign of terror, and had failed. He feared that the Lady of the Wood might cast a spell of some sort upon them since he and Miriel obviously resembled the people the Elves loathed. He�d rather take his chances facing Orcs. At least they weren�t capable of magicks of any kind, and he could kill them easily enough. Sorcery, on the other hand, was not his forte, and he had no way of countering magicks of any kind.

Riding back to the banks of the Anduin River would add at least fifty miles or so to their journey, and, in Bregolas� opinion, was a waste of precious time. The only bright spot, if one could call it that, was that their pursuers would be hesitant to approach the Golden Wood, even with the river acting as a barrier. None in Gondor was fond of that elven realm.

While Bregolas� trepidation grew the closer they got to L�rien, Miriel�s lessened. As they rode beside the river, the young woman�s gaze remained locked on the woods across the Anduin.

�I feel we�re being watched,� she said excitedly, turning toward her companion with a broad grin on her face. �Can you feel it? Can you feel the unseen eyes upon us?�

Bregolas looked warily at the eaves of the forest. �Indeed,� he answered, his tone riddled with apprehension. After a moment or two, he added, �Now that you have looked upon the land of Mithrellas, let us ride swiftly to the east! I would not like to encounter the Elven-Witch or her people.� He steered his steed to the right, eager to leave that region immediately.

�No!� replied Miriel, slowing her horse even more. �There is no danger here, Bregolas. Do not trust in the rumors of old. The elven folk are a goodly people.�

The warrior abruptly brought his steed to a halt. �Is that so?� he queried with a snicker. �If the Elves are such noble folk, why is it that they no longer aid us in our wars? They hide in their beloved woods, caring not of the fate of Men or Middle-earth!� He scowled, derisively adding, �It is they that have become weak, seeking the bliss of old. They are merely shadows of their ancient kindred.�

�And what do you know of Elves?� shot back Miriel angrily.

�Enough to know that they are to be considered foe rather than friend,� answered Bregolas with disdain. �Now, come on, Miriel. Let us get away from this horrid place.� He cast one last distasteful glance at the Golden Wood before nudging his horse forward, taking off at a canter.

Miriel actually stopped her horse, refusing to follow Bregolas. She couldn�t believe his prejudice toward the Elves. A part of her felt that if he thought such things about them, then he also felt that way about her. Though the elvish blood in her veins was miniscule, it was still there. And it was said by her kindred in Dol Amroth that she more closely resembled her foremother than most of Mithrellas� other descendants. In her mind, Bregolas was insulting her - even if it was in a roundabout way.

The warrior had traveled nearly a half a mile before he realized that Miriel was not with him. �Damn it!� he grumbled under his breath, turning his horse around. �Come, Miriel!� he shouted in his annoyance. �We must go!�

Much to Bregolas� chagrin, and in an act of defiance, Miriel began to sing in a loud, clear voice, The Lay of Nimrodel. This truly angered the warrior, as the Slayer�s voice seemed to carry on the wind, and he deemed the sound of it would reach far and wide.

Quickly, he galloped to her side. �What is this madness?� he spat. �Are you attempting to lure our pursuers with your elven song?�

Miriel replied by singing even louder.

�Am I going to have to gag you?� Bregolas threatened in his ire, reining in his horse, and preparing to dismount from his steed. �Shut it, Miriel! Shut it!� he ordered.

She continued to sing, ignoring her companion�s commands.

As he dismounted, the Slayer urged her horse forward, angering the warrior further. He climbed back atop his steed, seeing that his demands only increased her insolence. Never before had he been so annoyed with Miriel. She was showing her lack of maturity, which he felt was putting them both at risk. However, he loved her too much to forcefully stop her. Instead, he rode a few paces behind her, seething. Bregolas kept one hand on his reins, the other on the hilt of his sword. His eyes scanned the perimeter of the woods along the opposite bank, fearful that he and Miriel would come under attack at any moment.

Miriel was trying to draw the attention of the Elves. And she was quite successful too. L�rien heavily guarded their eastern borders due to the constant threat of Dol Guldur. Some Elves remained hidden on their talans in the treetops, concealed by the leaves of the trees, while others were positioned along the forest floor, watching the couple with their keen elven eyes. They had been watching the argument between the man and woman with interest, and when Miriel began to sing of their kinsmen, they couldn�t help but smile. They felt a certain joy in knowing that others, especially mortals, knew of the tale of their former King and his beloved. The wardens on the ground would follow the couple whilst they remained in the vicinity of their borders, never making contact with them, but watching them closely. Despite her attempt, Miriel would never see one of the Elves from the Golden Wood.

When the Slayer finally finished her song, which seemed overly long to the warrior, he trotted up beside her.

�Are you finished?� he queried angrily.

�Yes,� she answered, her gaze never leaving the woods to their west.

�Let us hope that your foolishness does not jeopardize our position! You sang too loud, Miriel. And I�m afraid that will prove disastrous for us.�

�Stop being so paranoid,� she shot back. �The Elves are watching us. If we come under attack, they would help us.�

�You�re delusional, Miriel. The Elves are not our friends. When will you get that through that thick skull of yours? You have just informed all our foes of our position, not to mention those in pursuit. It will do you good to keep your mouth shut and not succumb to such foolishness again.�

Both of their moods turned foul. Miriel was angry at Bregolas� comments, and he was wroth with her lack of judgment. They rode on in stony silence, not speaking until they set up their camp later that evening. While they had managed to put some miles behind them, they ended up stopping about ten miles north of L�rien�s borders, and approximately fifty from the southwestern eaves of Mirkwood.

As the sun sank in the west, so did Miriel�s heart. Her earlier behavior didn�t hit home with her until darkness settled about the land. She now realized how stupid she had been and wondered what had possessed her to sing at the top of her lungs. She was determined to make it up to Bregolas, who continued to remain standoffish toward her.

The warrior took the first watch. He had felt uneasy all day, and now, in the dark, that feeling increased threefold. The quarter moon cast a dim silver light on the land. However, as the night wore on, fog rolled over the river and through the sparsely wooded area, decreasing Bregolas� visibility. He stood in silence, listening intently for any unusual sounds. As the hours slowly passed by, he became weary, deeming that perhaps Miriel was right, and he was being paranoid.

Around two o�clock, it was time for Miriel to keep watch. As he crept into the tent, the horses suddenly snorted and stomped their feet. His heart started to race, and the hair on the nape of his neck stood on end, portending danger. He shook a sleeping Miriel. �Wake up. Wake up,� he whispered urgently. �Something�s amiss.�

Miriel�s eyes darted open. Bregolas was already backing out of the tent when the horses became more agitated, neighing and stomping wildly.

The Slayer lunged for the opening, crawling on all fours to escape the confines of their shelter.

Whish! An arrow went whizzing by, missing the warrior�s head by mere inches.

�Draw your sword, Miriel! We�re under attack!� bellowed Bregolas, pulling his weapon from its sheath. At the same time, he slid his shield from his back, holding it firmly in his other hand.

Miriel clambered to her feet, utterly terrified. Her heart was pounding so loudly that she could hear it and her body began to tremble when she heard the word �attack�. She blinked her eyes rapidly, hoping that would help them adjust to the night more quickly.

With her weapon in hand, she stood beside Bregolas, their backs toward the river. Their wide eyes frantically searched the mists for the enemy.

They heard a loud thump, followed only seconds later by another.

�What was that?� she uttered to her companion.

�I do not know. Be alert.� Bregolas gripped his sword tighter, taking a couple of steps forward into the foggy darkness. Miriel remained glued to his side.

Then, all at once, Orcs jumped out of the shadows, wielding scimitars and axes. Miriel had never seen one of these creatures in the flesh and they were much bigger than she had thought. Unlike her and Bregolas, the Orcs were garbed for battle, wearing armor and rounded black helms on their beastly heads.

She had no time to inspect them more closely, as she saw a blade coming quickly at her from the shadows. She lifted her weapon, as she had done so many times in practice, blocking the blow. She would never forget the sound of the metal scraping against metal. Her muscles tightened, as she contested the strength of her foe with her blade. The Orc then made a terrible growling sound. The putrid stench of his breath nearly knocked her out cold, but taking one look at the beast�s sharp, pointy teeth quickly brought her back to her senses.

Grasping the hilt with both hands, she then slid her weapon away, and swiftly drove the blade into his throat, one of the areas on his body that remained unprotected. The Orc made a strange gurgling sound. When she pulled her weapon free, blood spurted from the wound, spraying her face. The goblin instinctively reached for his throat, his scimitar falling from his hand as he dropped to his knees. Without even thinking of what she was doing, Miriel hewed the Orc�s head off. Like a volcano, jets of blood shot up from where his head had been only a second before. The headless body then collapsed to the ground. Miriel had made her first kill. Though it had seemed to happen in slow motion, the entire clash lasted only several seconds.

Tasting the vile, bitter blood on her lips, Miriel felt emboldened, powerful. Another Orc rushed her. She remembered what Buffy had told her previously, that her entire body was a weapon and to use it as such. The Slayer instinctively slid to the ground, sweeping the creature off its feet, unaware that, from behind, another goblin had already begun to swing his axe at her. As his weapon whooshed through the air, it struck his cohort�s armored shoulder, knocking the Orc hard onto the ground.

Now on her back, and frightened by her unseen attacker, Miriel swung her blade at the axe-wielding beast, striking him right above his knee. The beast howled in pain, lifting his axe over his head. Seeing that her blow had not stopped the creature, she sprang onto her knees in front of the goblin, thrusting her sword upward at the same time, hitting the Orc squarely in the crotch. Her blade sliced through the beast like butter. In one swift motion, she pulled her weapon free and brought it down upon the other goblin that had been knocked to the ground, severing his head from his body.

Leaping to her feet, she saw that Bregolas was like a wild man, battling multiple opponents at once. In that moment, when she tried to catch her breath, another Orc careened into her back, propelling her forward. Her cheek raked across the bark of a nearby oak before she slumped to the ground. Her face stung horribly, but there was no time to inspect the abrasion further.

A goblin grabbed a handful of her newly cropped hair, violently jolting her head backwards. She locked eyes with the creature, as its gloved fist came rushing down toward her face. Fearing that her nose was about to be hit, she jerked her head slightly to the side. His fist struck her jaw, just below her newly acquired abrasion. The pain intensified. Somehow, Miriel had bitten her tongue upon impact. She could now taste her own blood.

The Orc pulled her hair harder. She winced, her scalp now throbbing too. �So, you want to play, eh?� the hideous beast said, yanking on her hair and forcing her to scramble to her feet. He tightened his grip, maintaining control of her head. �Girls are not meant for the sport of warfare, but for something else entirely,� he sniggered. His dark eyes did a quick inspection of her body. �Perhaps I will spare you death.� A wicked grin came to the beast�s face. �For I have something else in mind for you,� the goblin cackled, as the hand that clutched his weapon ran up her chest.

Miriel understood the underlying meaning to his words, which horrified her even more. �The hell you say,� she grunted, feeling a surge of strength flow through her. She somehow managed to run her feet up the bole of the tree, flipping through the air, and landing behind the Orc. Though she had lost a fistful of hair in the process, and her head hurt in many places, she wrapped her arms around the creature�s head, twisting it until she heard a loud crack and the front of the goblin�s head looked back at her with vacant eyes. Unbeknownst to the Slayer, she had killed the leader of the band of Orcs sent from Dol Guldur.

Before she had a chance to bask in yet another victory, the Orc that she had struck in his nether regions had crawled along the ground and grabbed a firm hold of her ankle. Thrusting the dead goblin in her arms to the side, she tried to wiggle herself free from the wounded beast. Grabbing the hilt of her sword with both hands, she rammed the blade down into the base of his skull, killing him instantly.

Bits of brain matter clung to the end of her weapon when she pried it free. The stench of death, sweat and ungodly smells lingered on the air, which seemed to become heavy and hot with battle. While Miriel had managed to kill four, Bregolas had killed ten with only a handful of Orcs remaining. Their tent lay in shambles, a dead goblin resting atop the canvas in a pool of dark blood.

Leaping over a couple of corpses toward Bregolas, the Slayer landed in a crouching position. She swung her sword with full force, cleaving the legs off a goblin that had engaged her friend in combat, just above the top of his boots. A shrill cry rang out in the night, as the creature instantly shrank in size. She slammed her foot between the beast�s shoulder blades, sending him to the ground face first. The Slayer sprung upon the Orc, standing astride his body, as she drove her blade into the nape of his neck, piercing flesh and bone.

With her chest heaving from the adrenaline rush, Miriel shifted her gaze to Bregolas, who had a momentary reprieve from battle. In the dimness, she saw a glint of fiery metal near the ground behind the warrior. An Orc, crawling on his belly and not yet dead from his wounds, had pulled a dagger from his belt, aiming the weapon at her companion, who remained oblivious to his plight.

�Watch out!� she screeched, jumping through the air and shoving Bregolas away from their foe. The blade of the enemy grazed the back of the warrior�s knee, causing him to slump to the forest floor. Miriel hacked the goblin�s arm off at the elbow. As she raised her blade, she ripped through the fleshy face of the Orc, blood and tissue spilling from the deep gash.

Using that same momentum, she spun around, swinging the sword over her head as another goblin prepared to attack from the rear. The Orc blocked her blow, the metal colliding with his shield, as he swung his own blade toward her neck. Her back arched backward, almost in a perfect backbend, as the blade went swishing through the air several inches above her body.

Though on his knees, Bregolas struck the Orc, bringing him down.

Miriel�s backbend turned into a back flip. As her legs turned through the air, she kicked another beast right in the chin. Landing on her feet and poised for combat, she was able to behead her foe while he remained dazed from her strike.

Bregolas had gotten back to his feet and both he and the Slayer were able to kill the last few Orcs.

Panting, the warrior dropped back to the ground, clutching his wounded knee. Miriel went from body to body, delivering a fatal blow to any beastly creature that moved, even slightly. Twenty lay dead. They had no idea whether any had escaped or not, as they had been too engrossed in combat to notice.

To their dismay, both horses lay on their sides, pierced by many arrows, but not dead. The sight of the beasts suffering diminished the Slayer�s moment of triumph at executing her first foes.

�Put them out of their misery, Miriel,� ordered Bregolas, clutching the back of his knee with both hands.

�What?� she queried in alarm, trying to catch her breath.

�Drive your blade through the head. That will kill them instantly,� he instructed between gasps.

�No,� she answered, shaking her head.

�You must!� he replied with a grimace. �I�m hurt and am in need of rest. To let them continue to suffer is cruel.�

Saddened at the prospect of killing their loyal steeds, Miriel approached the first one. Its eye looked at her, its breathing labored. Tears filled her eyes. She cursed the Orcs for forcing her to do the unfathomable. With her body trembling, she tightened her grasp on the hilt of her sword before driving the blade into the horses head. Out of all the kills she had made, that was by far the hardest. Once she was sure the horse was dead, she went to the other and put it out of its misery too.

The Slayer then turned her attention to Bregolas and his injury. With so little light, it was hard to see how bad his wound was. She needed fire, something they had avoided since they had begun their journey. Having no other choice, she began collecting wood, wishing that she could savor her finest moment of Slayerhood thus far. Not wanting to remain in the heart of the combat zone, she struck up a fire at the edge of their campsite. She then went back to where Bregolas sat, and helped him over to the fireside where she could tend to his injury�