Sad Wings of Destiny

�I�m cursed,� Miriel whimpered, finally able to speak after crying on Buffy�s shoulder for the past twenty minutes.

�You�re not cursed!� insisted the elder Slayer, still holding Miriel in her arms, doing her best to comfort the girl.

�How else can you explain it?� asked Miriel miserably. �The two men that I had trusted most betrayed that trust in the most horrible way imaginable. I have to be cursed.�

�No!� refuted an adamant Buffy. �It�s not you. It�s them. They�re both fucked in the head. Your father is one sick bastard. And Bregolas� � She paused, not too sure how to comment on that one. Buffy couldn�t help but think that Miriel was partially to blame for her current predicament. All the vibes she had given to Bregolas indicated that they had a future together, that Miriel wanted a future with him. For God�s sake, they went as far as having him ask Denethor�s permission to wed! What else was the warrior to think?

She bit her lip, wondering how to answer. With Miriel in her current state, the last thing Buffy wanted to do was to tell the girl that some of the fault lay with her. The younger Slayer was in a very precarious situation. To be out in the middle of no man�s land only to have some guy basically force himself upon you was horrific in every sense of the word. But Miriel was a Slayer, and if she had some balls, she�d tell Bregolas to fuck off and carry on, on her own. She could do it - if she had the gumption to. But, did she?

Despite Buffy�s thoughts, she answered with, �Do you think he�s possessed? You mentioned that there was some unholy presence following you guys. Do you think it jumped into Bregolas� body and is controlling him?�

�I don�t know,� replied Miriel, pulling herself out of Buffy�s embrace. She rose from the bed and walked through an open archway of the room and onto the balcony. She clutched the railing, looking out at the sea. �And if he is - what can I do about it? How do I get that thing out of him? That is, even if it can be done.� She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, drinking in the salt air.

The elder Slayer followed, standing beside Miriel. �It can be done,� said Buffy, leaning her folded arms on the railing. �I was possessed once.�

The girl shifted her red and puffy eyes to her friend. �You were? How did you get rid of it?�

�Magic,� answered Buffy. �A spell, I mean.� Her face twisted to a grimace. �Unfortunately, I don�t know it. I don�t know the spell.�

Miriel looked back at the waters that bordered Dol Amroth. �It�s so strange,� she said glumly. �One minute I was just Miriel, and the next, I was the wife of Bregolas. That�s not how I expected things to turn out. I have to be cursed. There�s no other explanation for it.�

�I gave you one,� replied Buffy. �The dude�s possessed!�

�And what am I supposed to do, Buffy? Slay him?� Miriel shot back with a flicker of anger in her doleful grey eyes. �You do not know the spell to free him. That is, if he is indeed possessed. I�m not convinced that you are a master of such things!�

Buffy scowled. All she was doing was trying to help, and Miriel was being a complete bitch. �You have another option - leave him,� she suggested through gritted teeth, fighting the urge to unleash her true thoughts on the girl.

�Pfft,� sounded Miriel with a roll of her eyes. �And how am I to survive in the wilds without him to take care of me? I cannot fend for myself. I�d die of starvation!�

�Bullshit! You can do anything he can do!� argued Buffy.

�Have you seen me try to fish? I�ve never caught one! I do not have the patience for that! And cooking - I do not know how to cook! I couldn�t even tell a turnip from a weed! I walked right over an edible plant without even knowing - and I�m supposed to survive on my own! I�d be dead in a week�s time,� she snapped in reply.

�That�s because you�ve already given up!� countered Buffy, annoyed with Miriel�s attitude. �You don�t know the first thing about being a Slayer, about what you�re capable of! You haven�t even tried. Maybe if you did, you�d surprise yourself, you�d see that you have an innate ability to survive, to adapt. You don�t need a man for that.�

Miriel�s bottom lip began to quiver; her eyes welling with tears. �But I have already submitted myself to Bregolas. I am already his wife,� she said, her voice cracking as she spoke.

�So what! You can still leave him. You don�t have to stay.�

�Did you not hear me? I�ve surrendered myself to him� I�ve already carried out a wife�s sacred duty,� she retorted.

�That doesn�t mean a thing!� Buffy contested, waving her hand dismissively. �So you�ve slept with him. Big deal! Call it a one-night stand and move on.�

The girl�s jaw dropped. She was appalled by the elder Slayer�s comments. She stood tall, glowering at Buffy. �I am no harlot!� she proclaimed in her most dignified voice.

�I didn�t say that you were. Just because you slept with him, doesn�t mean you have to be married to him.�

The girl�s shoulders slumped forward in defeat. She gripped the railing tightly. Her face reflected her sorrow once again. �No,� she said. �I have to be married to him. Bregolas gave up so much for me. It would be wrong of me to leave him after all he has done, all he has sacrificed.� She tried to fight back the tears that were forming in her eyes. �It would be wrong,� she added in a whisper. Miriel tried to convince herself that she had made the right decision though her heart said otherwise.

�So, you�re just gonna give up, give in to his demands?� said an exasperated Buffy.

It now appeared that the younger Slayer was getting annoyed with the elder. �What part of �I already did� do you not understand?! It�s too late, Buffy. The deed is done. There�s no going back.�

�Uh-uh,� answered the elder Slayer, vehemently shaking her head. �You guys didn�t exchange any type of vows. There�s no ring on your finger. You�re not obligated to him. For God�s sake, Miriel - he gave you an ultimatum! That�s not the way relationships work. No one should force you to do what you don�t want to. He�s taking advantage of the situation. He�s taking advantage of you. And that�s wrong! What�s he�s doing is wrong. You�re just too emotionally distraught to see that.�

�Perhaps that is so,� Miriel replied softly, looking away from Buffy and back to the sea. �But there is no turning back.�

Buffy was about to explode from frustration. She grabbed Miriel by the shoulders and forced the much taller Slayer to look at her. �That�s a load of crap and you know it. Where�s that girl that planned and prepared to leave Minas Tirith on her own? Or did you forget about that already?� she said tersely. �Well, I haven�t. You can�t lie to me, Miriel. I know your mind. I know your thoughts. You weren�t stupid about it. You thought things through. Most girls in your situation would�ve fled into the night with no preparation, and wouldn�t have lasted long. You didn�t do that. You�re smarter than you give yourself credit. You�re strong, Miriel. And now�s the time to show it.�

�No. No, I�m not,� Miriel said weakly. �I may be strong, physically, but that is where it ends. I am not emotionally strong at all.�

Buffy was pissed at Miriel�s defeatist attitude. Whether this was an episode of melancholy or not, she couldn�t take it any more. Her blood was boiling. Wanting to knock some sense into the girl, she smacked her hard across the face. �Snap out of it! This isn�t you!� she exclaimed, reclaiming her grip on Miriel�s shoulders.

The young Slayer stood there, stunned. Her hand had instinctively darted to her stinging cheek. The skin was rapidly turning bright pink, and taking on the shape of Buffy�s hand. She continued to stand there with her hand protectively cradling her cheek, staring blankly at her mentor.

That was not the reaction Buffy was going for. She was hoping to wake Miriel�s anger, to stir her wrath, to have her do what she would�ve done - leave Bregolas. �C�mon, Miriel. You don�t have to do this. You don�t have to stay,� she pleaded.

Miriel then turned, forcing Buffy�s hands to slide from her shoulders. She then returned to the bedroom she had always stayed in when visiting her mother�s kin. She crossed the chamber and headed out the door. Grumbling under her breath, the elder Slayer followed.

They went down the hall and descended a sweeping, spiral, white marble stairway, passing many nameless people, neither acknowledging the other. They exited through a large glass paned door that led to the back garden which overlooked the sea. Neither Slayer had spoken a word. Buffy just followed. Though irritated with her prot�g�, she couldn�t help but take in the beauty of her surroundings as she trailed behind the girl.

They crossed the garden and passed through a stone archway at the edge of the cliff. Carved into the rock wall was a set of steps that zigzagged down to the beach. At the bottom of the stairs, on either side, sat some long benches made out of the same rock as the magnificent Halls perched above.

Miriel sat on the nearest bench, looking sadly at the sea. Her mentor sat beside her.

Buffy figured it was time to approach the situation from a different angle. �Why do you come here?� she asked, even though she knew the answer to that question already.

�This is the safest place in the world, to me at least,� she answered somberly.

�Then why don�t you go here, for real. Imrahil would take you in. He seems to be a very understanding man. He wouldn�t let Denethor get away with - �

� - You don�t understand my world, Buffy,� interjected Miriel. �My uncle cannot save me from my father.�

�He�s a prince! He rules his own land,� reasoned the elder Slayer.

The girl slowly turned her head toward her mentor. �Imrahil is my father�s vassal. His realm is a part of Gondor. And I do not think I need to remind you who the Lord of Gondor is.�

�You think he�d send you back to your father?� queried Buffy incredulously.

�There is no doubt that he would. He�d have no other choice. Denethor is his lord. He is bound by his lord�s will, whether he agrees with it or not. That�s life. That�s the way things work here.�

�But wouldn�t he lie, lie to your father in order to protect you,� asked the troubled elder Slayer.

�It is not in the nature of Gondorians to lie,� replied Miriel, shifting her gaze back to the sea. �And yes, I realize that I�m an anomaly and have become quite good at the art of lying. It is a disgrace to our people to do such things.� She sighed heavily. �I am a disgrace� � she muttered. Her words were spoken so softly that Buffy couldn�t hear the last part of her sentence.

Buffy sat there, staring at Miriel with her mouth agape. She felt her own heart beginning to sink to the pit of her stomach. �So, you�re telling me that Imrahil wouldn�t protect you from Denethor, even if he knew what he was doing to you. He�d let your father continue to molest you?� she asked. Her tone was riddled with a combination of disgust and disbelief.

�Denethor�s word is law. He can do whatever he wishes, with virtually no repercussions.�

Even though the morning was warm and sunny, Buffy felt a sudden coldness come over her, chilling her to the core. She wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing the sleeves of her leather jacket in an attempt to ward off the chill. It was finally dawning on her how very different the people of Middle-earth were from those in her own world. Women, at least, had every chance to do whatever it was that they wanted to, and had gained equal footing with men, for the most part. While Buffy felt that there was still a long way to go with the women of her world, when compared with those of Middle-earth, they had most certainly advanced considerably. But she couldn�t help but think that someone, a woman, a Middle-earth woman, needed to make a stand, to confront her oppressors and say, �I�m not gonna take it any more!� And she felt that Miriel was that woman.

�When you consider my choices, being with Bregolas is not such a bad thing,� the young Slayer concluded in a faraway voice. �It could be worse. It was worse. At least he is not blood kin. And, perhaps in time, I will come to love him as my husband.� She stared unblinkingly into the distance. �Yes, in time I will come to love him.�

�Oh, Miriel, it doesn�t have to be this way,� said a heartbroken Buffy.

�Please, Buffy,� replied the girl, facing the older Slayer. �Let us not quarrel.� She forced a smile. �Today�s my wedding day. And as such, it is custom with our people that one should give a gift to the bride to mark the occasion. From you, I ask that we sit here, in peace, and look upon the majestic creation of the Lord of Waters. I do not have the strength to argue any more. Can you do that, for me?�

Buffy felt awful. She solemnly nodded her head in reply, finding herself too overwhelmed with emotion to speak. Miriel shifted her gaze back to the ocean and said no more. A crestfallen Buffy leaned her head against Miriel�s shoulder, feeling such pity for the newly wed bride�



�Wake up, my love,� cooed Bregolas, gently stroking Miriel�s face. He leaned over and kissed her tenderly on the lips.

Miriel�s eyes fluttered opened, only to see Bregolas� smiling face inches from her own. She offered him a quick smile. �I�m sorry I fell asleep. I did not mean to.�

The warrior laughed heartily. �After expending such energy, you were entitled to some rest.�

The Slayer instantly felt the blood rushing to her cheeks. She covered her face with the blanket, trying to hide her embarrassment.

�There�s no need to be bashful,� said Bregolas, pulling the blanket from her grasp. �You have done nothing to be ashamed of.� His eyes twinkled with a mischievousness that Miriel had seen many times before. An impish grin came to his face, as he flirtatiously added, �In fact, I would go as far as to say - �

�Shh,� she sounded, pressing her finger to his lips, stilling his words. �Don�t say it!�

He chuckled, noticing that Miriel�s cheeks were indeed turning redder. The warrior took her finger and planted a kiss on it. �Alright, alright,� he said, willing to change the subject. Bregolas entwined his fingers with hers. �Do you hear that?� he then asked, his eyes shifting to the roof of the structure. �The storm has passed, the rain is letting up.�

Miriel then noticed that the rain was no longer pounding ferociously against the canvas roof. Instead, she heard a spattering of rain.

�This is a great time to fish,� continued the warrior, reaching over Miriel and grabbing his shirt. �I do not know about you, but I�m famished. I think we could both use a hot meal.�

�And how exactly do you propose to start a fire when all the wood is soaking wet,� she asked, arching her brow in question.

�I�m a man of many talents,� he chortled, �as you should be well aware of now.�

Miriel wasn�t about to respond to that statement. While she was not delighted at the prospect of being Bregolas� wife, or, more importantly, the manner in which it had happened; she had resigned herself to the hand that fate had dealt her. She wasn�t going to allow herself to fall into the abyss of despair. Things could be worse, much worse. Life was different now. And it was high time that she tried to look at the bright side of things, to see that glass half-full, as some would say. But still, she found the whole situation rather ironic. Not days ago, Miriel was willing to do nearly anything to have Bregolas return to his old self. Who would�ve thought it would come at such a price? She surely had not!

As the warrior dressed, her thoughts swiftly turned to her earlier conversation with Buffy. She thought of the elder Slayer�s words about how Miriel had given up, how she was refusing to adapt to her current set of circumstances. Although Buffy wanted her prot�g� to leave Bregolas, to continue on her journey alone, Miriel wasn�t about to do that. Life was too hard in the �real� world for her to contend with on her own. She needed Bregolas. However, the young Slayer was beginning to see that she relied heavily on the warrior for the simplest of things, such as food. She could agree with Buffy that she had given up, that she wasn�t really trying. But that was about to change. First up � she�d learn to master the art of patience. Come hell or high water, Miriel was determined to catch her first fish, all by herself.

�Can I go fishing with you?� she asked her companion.

Bregolas was slightly taken aback by her request. His smile broadened. �I would like nothing more,� he replied. He then tossed Miriel her clothing. She hurriedly dressed.

With their fishing gear in hand, they exited the tent into the sprinkling rain. As they crossed the spongy ground toward the riverbank, Miriel looked up at a drizzly sky. The clouds were now grey and the dark blackish clouds that she had seen earlier had moved on to the north. She pulled her cloak more tightly around her. The air felt much cooler on her skin than the warmth of their tent.

The Slayer was not dissuaded when assigned the task of digging for worms. In fact, maybe it was the rain, but to her amazement, the worms were wiggling along the surface of the ground, instead of hiding beneath it. She took that as a sign, a sign that good things were going to happen.

Her enthusiasm didn�t last long, however. She watched with envy as Bregolas pulled in fish after fish while she managed to catch nothing.

�What am I doing wrong?� she moaned after a couple of hours with no success. �Why can I not catch a fish?�

�It�s all in your technique,� answered Bregolas.

�I�m doing exactly what you told me!� she snapped back in frustration.

The warrior felt badly for his wife. �Perhaps fishing is not your strong point. Maybe hunting is something you would be better at.�

�Humph!� Her patience had reached its end. She shoved the line into Bregolas� hand. �I�m through with fishing.� Pouting, she got to her feet and stormed off, angry that her backside was cold and wet for nothing.

Despite Bregolas� proclamation that he was a man of many talents, he was unable to start a fire. That actually made Miriel feel good. He couldn�t do everything.

�It looks like we�ll have to eat these raw,� proposed the warrior, thrusting the pot of raw fish soup towards the Slayer.

She pushed the vessel away. �I�m not eating raw fish!� she declared, her face wrinkled in disgust.

�It won�t harm you,� said the warrior, grabbing a piece of raw fish with his fingers. He took a bite in front of a revolted Miriel. �See,� he said between chews. �It tastes good, in fact.�

�Ew,� she said, cringing away from the pot that he had thrust in her face once again. �I think I�ll pass.�

�You have to eat, Miriel. This is all we have. You need your strength. Come on.� He offered her a bite of the pinkish colored flesh. �Take a bite.�

The Slayer reluctantly took a nibble. The texture was odd and she didn�t like that burst of overwhelmingly fishy flavor. While she did end up eating her share, she kept her nosed pinch closed so she wouldn�t have to taste it.

Since Miriel had forced herself to eat something she found unpalatable, she insisted that they put some miles behind them that afternoon. The rains had stopped, and though still overcast, she thought it was perfect walking weather.

After packing up their gear, they set off on their trek, marching north once again. They had gone maybe ten miles when they caught their first glimpse of Gladden Fields. A multitude of irises in a rainbow of colors grew amidst the grasslands, gently swaying in the afternoon breeze. Miriel was disappointed that the flowers were on the opposite side of the Anduin, as she would love to have picked a bouquet of the lovely blossoms.

As they continued northward, the beauty was soon overtaken by unappealing marshes. From the base of the Misty Mountains flowed the River Gladden. Where its waters emptied into the Anduin, vast pools had formed into a great wetland filled with sedges, cattails, and rushes. The area was also home to numerous frogs, waterfowl, and, unfortunately, midges! Though the couple walked on the east side of the river, the pesky insects must have smelled them from afar. Even veering away from the stream to avoid the bloodsuckers was of no avail. The midges followed, none too eager to forego a dinner of fresh mortal blood. As the sun sank behind the mountains, their numbers grew even more. Miriel and Bregolas actually began to jog in hopes of passing that area before dark. Neither wanted to camp in the vicinity of the marshes. They managed to go on another ten miles before stopping for the night.

The couple set out again the following morning, delighted that they were nearing one of their major destinations. According to their map, they�d reach the Old Forest Road in about three days� time, two if they were lucky. Unfortunately, the pair wasn�t progressing very rapidly due to the weather. They weren�t plagued by torrential rains as they had been the morning before, but by heat, a sweltering, muggy heat that sucked the energy from them. Onward they slowly trudged, drenched in sweat and with their backs hunched forward from the weight of their burdens. It was a relief when their day finally ended.

Unbeknownst to Miriel, Halthor returned that night, the first time since she and Bregolas had �wed�. The phantom counseled his son to make his way to Lake-town, which was in the opposite direction of Eriador, where the couple intended to go.

�Head east, my son,� said the apparition. �There you will find welcome by the lord of those lands. He will gladly receive one with such strength to aid in the defense of his realm. There, you and Miriel will be able to live the life you�ve always dreamed of, and put an end to all this Slayer business. The time has come for you to settle down with your bride and to bring forth many children so that my line can endure.�

Bregolas remained torn. Though his father�s advice had indeed worked - Miriel was now his wife - he was unsure about her giving up her Calling. Her strength seemed too great a gift not to be put to use. Since they were married, the warrior dismissed the notion that the Elves would be able to lure his beloved away from him. He controlled her, not anyone else. He shared his thoughts with the ghostly form of his father.

Halthor sniggered. �You underestimate the power of the Elves, for they are masters of manipulation. With ease they will sway Miriel from your influence, undermining all that you have worked hard for.�

�Why is it that you continue to speak of the Elves?� grumbled the frowning warrior. �We seek the Watchers, who are men, not Elves. We have no business with the Elder.�

�You have very little knowledge of the men you seek, many that continue to heed the counsel of the Elves. When the Elder Children of Il�vatar learn that a Slayer wanders near their borders, they will seek her. They will bid her to come to them. And being still young and na�ve, she will go, willing so. Then they will control her for their nefarious purposes. She will choose them over you, my son, for your wife is blinded by the tales of old. She would like nothing more than to be amongst the Elves. To her, it would be as if living in a dream.�

Talk of Elves put the warrior in a foul mood. He didn�t like them. He didn�t like them one bit. But how was he to sway Miriel to go east when she yearned to go west? How could he possibly convince her?

Halthor had the answer to that as well. �You are a man, and it�s the man�s duty to make decisions such as this. Miriel is your wife, and as such, must be compliant to your demands.�

�You do not know Miriel! She can be stubborn,� countered the warrior.

�Is that so?� replied Halthor with a smirk. �And just where was that stubbornness when you demanded that she become your wife, hmm? Did she not submit to you? She is not as stubborn as you think. She fears being alone, Bregolas. She will not leave you. Fear binds her to you. Use that. Use that to your advantage.�

Halthor�s words troubled Bregolas, particularly his �fear binds her to you� statement. It was never his intent to have Miriel stay with him out of fear, and he was now beginning to see that he had done just that.

Sensing the warrior�s anxiety, and realizing a little too late that he had misspoken, that his comments were not having the desired effect he had intended, the ghostly form of Halthor began to backpedal. �I fear you may be taking my words out of context,� he quickly added, trying to hide his panic.

Bregolas glared at his father�s phantom form. �Ill counsel you have given me, Father. That, I am now beginning to see. Be gone!� He gestured for the ghost to depart. �Leave me in peace.�

�But, my son,� implored the apparition, �I am only looking out for your best interests. If you go west, death will surely await you and your beloved. I beseech you to heed - �

� - Be gone, I said! I am in no mood to hear the ramblings of a dead man,� commanded the warrior, balling his fists at his side. He then turned his back on the ghost and marched back to Miriel�s side.

The minion of Sauron realized that he would not be able to fix the situation, at least, not tonight. He hastily left, dreading the thought of having to inform his master of his blunder.

�My sweet Miriel, what have I done,� he whispered, caressing his sleeping wife�s cheek softly. The warrior buried his face in his hands, greatly disturbed by his actions. He feared the Miriel viewed him as she did Denethor - a heartless and wicked person whose only concern was for his own selfish desires. The warrior had now seen the folly of his ways and would do what he could to make things right with Miriel.

After a few hours, he decided to catch some fish, knowing that food would give them the strength to resume their trek in the morning. Much to his surprise, the fish weren�t biting. When Miriel awoke later that morning, he was still sitting on the bank, attempting to catch breakfast. Unfortunately, they would have no meal before starting on their journey.

The day�s march was much like the previous day�s. The couple slowly plodded on with empty stomachs, their eyes scanning their surroundings for any sign of edible plants. Unfortunately, they didn�t come across anything remotely edible. They made up for the lack of food by drinking plenty of water. The Slayer had drunk so much that she felt bloated and could hear the water swishing around in her stomach as they marched. It wasn�t a good day.

With their strength zapped, they called it a day around four o�clock. Once again, Bregolas wanted to try his hand at fishing. And once again, he failed to catch anything. It was a very dismal evening.

Exhausted, both fell asleep around nine o�clock that night. They slept until sunrise the following morning.

Upon waking, the warrior suggested that he try fishing again.

�What�s the point, Bregolas?� said the Slayer with a sigh. �I think all the fish have gone into hiding.� Trying to sound more upbeat, she added, �Today we�ll reach the Old Forest Road. Perhaps we�ll come across an inn! I�d give anything for a decent hot meal.� A dreamy look came to her face. �I�d love roasted chicken. Ooh, and a soft mattress with clean linens.�

Bregolas wasn�t as optimistic as Miriel about finding lodgings along the road. But, then again, he had never been to that part of Middle-earth and the Old Forest Road was a main highway in that region, so anything was possible.

With their hope renewed, they set off again with a little more vigor in their step. They had come such a long way, and to reach the Old Forest Road was a feat in and of itself. It would be a turning point on their journey. After walking endless miles northward, it would be a nice change to head west toward the Misty Mountains instead of walking parallel to them.

�There�s a possibility that we may come across travelers on the road,� said Bregolas whilst they marched. �I think it best that we do not use our real names, that we should call ourselves something else.�

�Do you think people would be that inquisitive as to ask our names?� asked Miriel in surprise.

�It�s a possibility. Decent people tend to stop and exchange a few kind words when they meet in passing. It would seem uncouth to pass by without so much as a greeting,� he answered.

�Do you think any from Gondor have come this far north yet?�

�I doubt it, but anything is possible. We cannot rule that out.� He shifted his gaze to his beloved. �That alone is reason enough for us to take on new identities.�

�Such as?� she queried with a half-smile, wondering what name she should call herself. �What name would you give me?�

�Let me think,� answered the warrior. After a long pause, a grin came to his face. �I�d name you L�thien.�

�L�thien,� she repeated with a laugh. �Would that not be considered blasphemous?�

�No!� replied Bregolas. �Why would you think such a thing? Even our forebears had names that were derived from the Lords in the West. That was done out of honor and respect. I see nothing wrong with your being called L�thien. You are fair - the fairest woman I�ve ever seen - and brave. You are much like her, I deem.�

�I�m nothing like L�thien,� Miriel snickered. �She was half- Maia, you know. I�m only a mere mortal.�

�You�re a Slayer, Miriel. You�ve been endowed with gifts that no mere mortal possesses. In my eyes, the name L�thien fits you best, and that is what I�d call you.�

�And I take it that you would be Beren. Beren Erchamion,� she remarked, raising a brow in question.

�Beren would suffice,� he answered, his grin widening. �I do have both my hands, as you can see.� He waved his hands and wiggled his fingers in demonstration.

�He was called Elf-friend. I wouldn�t think you�d want to be named after someone who so dearly loved the Elves,� she teased.

The smile faded from Bregolas� face. �Well, perhaps he did not have as good sense as me. And times were different back then.�

The Slayer chuckled. �I do not think it wise to take such legendary names for ourselves. If I were some traveler and encountered a couple by the names of Beren and L�thien, I�d look upon them with suspicion. What are the chances of finding two people with such names?�

�Middle-earth is a vast place, Miriel. Undoubtedly, there have been people named after those two. And do you forget that one of your kinsmen was named Beren. He was the twentieth Steward of Gondor, I believe.�

�Wrong. He was the nineteenth Steward,� she said, correcting the warrior. Part of her lessons in Minas Tirith had been to memorize the line of H�rin of Emyn Arnen, her ancestor and founder of the House of Stewards. �I say we need to come up with something else. We need names that aren�t so� well-known.�

�And do you think names of our forebears are commonly known in these parts? We live in the south, Miriel. I doubt these people even know of the historic deeds of our forefathers.�

�Maybe. But I do not think we should leave that to chance. We�ll need to think of something else.�

In the end, they decided that each would name the other. Both fell quiet, mulling over possible names, as they continued their journey.

By mid-afternoon, the couple finally reached the road, just east of the Old Ford. �So, this is it, the Old Forest Road� said a disappointed Miriel. She was expecting it to be some elaborate stone road like the ones found in Minas Tirith, but instead, it was merely a dirt lane with deep ruts from wagon wheels. �I would�ve thought the road would be� more civilized,� she added, looking up and down the road in either direction. To her dismay, she saw no signs of any inns along the road.

�Not all roads in Gondor are paved with stone,� Bregolas laughed. �Have you not noticed that on your journeys to Dol Amroth?�

�For your information, I traveled by ship to Dol Amroth, not by road,� she shot back.

�Of course,� chuckled the warrior. �How could I expect differently from someone with such clout.�

�Pfft,� she sounded, rolling her eyes. �You must have me confused with someone else. I have no clout, with anyone.�

�Ah, that is where you are wrong, fair maiden,� said Bregolas lightheartedly, bowing before his beloved. �For you have much clout with me.�

Miriel shifted her gaze to the river. �How deep do you think the water is?� she asked, surveying the crossing.

�Well, it cannot be too deep. There are old wagon tracks leading into it,� he said, pointing to the ruts beneath the shallow water. �I hate the thought of getting my feet wet,� he muttered. �Perhaps I should go first.�

�Can we rest for a bit?� asked Miriel, already dumping her packs to the ground. �My back is aching. And maybe we should take our boots off. No sense in having wet feet for the rest of the day.�

�Halt!� commanded a loud, gruff voice from behind.

Both Miriel and Bregolas jumped with a start. With their adrenaline suddenly pumping, they swiftly spun around in the direction of the voice. A group of men, maybe thirty of them, dressed entirely in green, had appeared, seemingly out of the earth itself. Each was armed with a long bow; their weapons trained on the couple�