For hours, Miriel clung to Bregolas' lifeless body, rocking back and forth in anguish. As far as she was concerned, her worst nightmare had come true. She was now alone, in the wilds of Middle-earth, forced to fend for herself with what little skills she possessed. What was she to do? How could she go on without the warrior? How could she possibly survive?
With the slow passage of time, Miriel's tears had dried up, and a whirlwind of thoughts plagued her mind. She couldn't help but wonder why she hadn't been killed too. Why would the Orcs only kill Bregolas and not her? She was the Slayer after all. According to Buffy, villains had a tendency to go after the Chosen One, almost like some sick sport, yet, they hadn't killed her. They had hurt her - true, but hadn't kill her. Why?
Thinking proved to be draining, both physically and emotionally. As the night wore on, Miriel fought to keep her eyes open, fearing that the goblins might come back and attack while she slept. However, her eyelids continued to grow heavy and there were moments when she dozed off, but soon snapped herself awake. By three o'clock in the morning, exhaustion had won out, and Miriel drifted off to sleep.
As always, Buffy was there, waiting for her protégé in the dreamscape. The elder Slayer's heart went out to Miriel, knowing that what she had gone through had to be horrific, to say the least. She embraced the young Slayer, who seemed detached, dazed.
Buffy pulled out of the embrace, and surveyed Miriel with her sympathetic eyes. "Are you hurt?" she queried, noticing that the girl's garments were saturated with blood.
The young Slayer didn't respond. She stood there, grief-stricken, her red, puffy eyes looking off into space.
"Come on, let's get you cleaned up," said Buffy, her motherly instincts kicking in. Her concern for Miriel was so great that she didn't realize that the scenery around them had changed. Buffy found herself leading the girl down the hall of her own house on Revello Drive, steering her into the bathroom. She flicked on the light and went over to the toilet, pulling the lid down before easing the young Slayer onto it. She then went to the tub and began filling it with hot water and bubble bath.
"You'll feel better once we get you washed up," declared Buffy. She sat on her heels before the girl so that she could remove her boots. Her eyes constantly darted to Miriel, who remained in what the elder Slayer believed was a state of shock.
Once she had removed the girl's soiled clothing, she noticed the massive bruising to the side of Miriel's body. Buffy winced at the sight.
"You sure you're okay?" she asked, skeptical in tone.
Miriel slowly nodded in reply. The only pain that she truly felt was in her heart, which felt like it had been shattered into hundreds of minute pieces.
Buffy then helped the young Slayer into the tub. Maybe it was the steamy water or the perfume scented bubble bath, but after a few minutes, Miriel began to return to life and started to slowly scrub away the blood and dirt that had formed a crusty layer on her skin.
Buffy picked up the pile of soiled clothing from the floor. "I'll be right back. Will you be okay?"
Once again, Miriel merely nodded in reply.
The elder Slayer then headed down to the basement so that she could throw Miriel's clothing in the washing machine. It still hadn't occurred to her that they were in her own house.
Once she had the clothes in the wash, Buffy returned upstairs, stopping in her mother's room. Nearly three months after Joyce's death, she still hadn't had the heart to get rid of her mom's things. She grabbed one of her mother's bathrobes, thinking that it would fit Miriel better than one of her own. By the time she went back into the bathroom, the young Slayer stood beside the tub, wrapped in a towel, watching the filthy water swirl down the drain.
"I brought you this," said Buffy, offering Miriel the pink fluffy robe. "It was my mom's."
The young Slayer slipped into the robe. She, like her mentor, hadn't really noticed the strange surroundings in which she found herself.
"Come on," continued the elder Slayer, ushering Miriel to her room. She sat the girl on the edge of her bed before grabbing her hairbrush from the nightstand. She climbed onto the mattress behind Miriel and began to carefully brush the tangles out of her short, wet hair.
"Buffy?" Miriel suddenly said.
"Yeah?"
"Do you still think I'm not cursed?" she asked, dismal in tone.
"Of course," replied the elder Slayer. "It's like I told you, Miriel: Bad things happen to good people all the time. You just happen to be going through a period of bad luck. It'll pass though. It always does."
"I lack your optimism," answered Miriel, feeling both grief and hopelessness. In an eerily calm voice she added, "The future looks bleak, dark. Sauron and his forces will triumph over the people of Middle-earth, covering all the world in shadow - "
" - Don't talk like that," interjected Buffy stiffly. She climbed off the bed and stood face to face in front of Miriel. "Just because Bregolas is dead, doesn't mean it's over. Life goes on, Miriel! The world hasn't stopped turning. Now isn't the time to give up. This is a true test of who you are, who you really are."
"It's my fault he's dead," said Miriel, riddled with guilt. "I got him killed. If we would've done - "
" - Would've, could've, should've," Buffy said, cutting the girl's sentence short. "It's a moot point. Bregolas is gone, and you can't bring him back. You have to deal and move on. He would've wanted it that way."
The young Slayer felt her bottom lip starting to quiver. "You… you came back," she stammered. A slight glimmer of hope returned to her glassy, grey eyes.
"That was different. I drowned. Bregolas was… stabbed to death." Buffy softened her expression, and her tone. "There's no coming back from that."
Miriel shifted her eyes to the floor, feeling more miserable than ever.
"Listen, things will get better. I promise." Wanting to assure Miriel that the world hadn't stopped with Bregolas' death, she grabbed the girl by the hand and pulled her from the bed. "Come here," she said, dragging her to a nearby window. "Look. The world's still here. Life goes on. Sauron doesn't win, Miriel. This is proof of it."
As Buffy spoke, it was as if a veil had been removed from both women's eyes. They now noticed their surroundings. Miriel gasped softly upon noticing this new world, which seemed foreign and strange to her. And Buffy finally realized that she had somehow gained the mastery of the young Slayer's mind, bringing them both to Sunnydale.
"Whoa!" sounded Buffy. She turned, her eyes scanning the interior of her bedroom. "We're in my house," she said, slightly puzzled, "my house in Sunnydale."
Miriel continued to stare out the window at the houses located along Revello Drive. Her amazement at seeing this new world diminished her grief, if only for a while. Her eyes widened. She had never seen buildings of that sort before. They were so very different from the structures in Gondor. The girl's eyes then darted to the power lines. She couldn't help but wonder what on earth they were.
"What are those poles?" she asked in a baffled voice, pointing at the ones that ran along the street. She glanced at Buffy. "And why are there ropes tied to them? What purpose does that serve?"
The elder Slayer was unsure of what Miriel was talking about. She faced the window, looking through the glass panes. "Oh, those are power lines," she answered. "And they're not ropes, but cables."
Miriel looked blankly at Buffy. "What are power lines?" she queried.
"Um, they carry electricity," replied the elder Slayer.
"What's electricity?" asked a still confused Miriel.
Buffy paused, uncertain how to explain electricity to someone who had no comprehension of technology. She tried to explain what it was, but found that the girl continued to stare at her in confusion. "Okay, look at it this way," said the elder Slayer, changing her course of thought. "You know what lightning is, right?"
"Yes," responded the girl.
"Well, we mere humans have learned how to make our own lightning and to harness its energy in a way that's beneficial to us."
"I do not understand," replied Miriel, shaking her head. "How is lightning beneficial to man? And why would you want to harness it?"
Buffy groaned, finding that explaining electricity was much more difficult than she had imagined. She thought a demonstration might be more helpful. She ambled over to the light switch by the door. "Let me show you instead." She flicked the switch on and off several times. Though it was daylight outside, the light bulbs in her lamps turned on and off.
Once again, Miriel gasped. She ran over to the lamp beside the bed, peeking under the shade. "These are not candles," she announced in awe. She placed her hand on the glass bulb, feeling its warmth.
Buffy left the lights on. "Be careful," she warned. "It'll get hot."
"What is this strange looking thing?"
"It's a light bulb. The lightning runs from the poles outside into the house. Its energy helps produce light, among other things," Buffy explained.
Miriel turned to her mentor, her face wrinkled with confusion. "I still do not understand how this can be?" The bulb suddenly grew hot, causing the girl to jerk her hand away. "Ouch! It is hot," she added, mystified by the device.
"I told you," snickered the elder Slayer.
"I still do not understand how this electricity works. I would like to know more," said Miriel, plopping down on the bed and looking expectantly at her mentor.
Buffy had always considered herself to be a patient person, but found that her patience on the topic was beginning to wear thin. How could she explain the ins and outs of electricity when Miriel couldn't grasp the concept of electrons and whatnot? Not that she thought that Miriel was dumb. Buffy didn't think that for one minute. It just seemed to be too complicated a subject to put into words. An idea then came to her, an idea that would hopefully put an end to that topic of conversation.
"Look at it as a form of magic," she finally said. Buffy knew that was a cop out, but she was eager to show Miriel so many other things and felt that this particular discussion wasn't going anywhere.
Miriel sat there for a moment or two before her eyes lit up with comprehension. "I think I understand now," she said with a twinge of excitement to her voice. "There's a wizard, Mithrandir, that used to come to Minas Tirith at times. He carried a staff with a clear crystal on top." She glanced at the light bulb. Though it looked quite different than the stone on Mithrandir's staff, she felt that it was something similar. "At times, he could make a light emit from the stone, much like that," she added, pointing to the bulb. "I reckon the old wizard had learned to harness lightning, long before you mere humans."
"Ah, er, okay," replied Buffy hesitantly. Noticing the look of satisfaction on her protégé's face, she let out a sigh of relief. Talk of electricity had hopefully reached its end. "There's something that I wanna show you, something that every girl loves."
Miriel's ears perked up upon hearing that. "What's that?"
A smile came to Buffy's face. "The mall," she replied.
The young Slayer thought it odd that her mentor seemed so eager to show her a wooden hammer. She could only assume that the weapon had been used with great success in combat and that Buffy wished to show it to her. "Alright," answered Miriel, rising from the bed. "Where is it?"
"Well, we'll have to walk there. But, you'll get to see a lot of Sunnydale along the way. I'll give you a tour of Hellmouth central. Hopefully our trek will be demon-free, but I can't promise that."
"We might be attacked?" exclaimed the girl in surprise. "In broad daylight?"
"It happens from time to time," replied Buffy matter-of-factly. "It's no biggie, really." She went to turn, but stopped short, realizing that her friend was still dressed in Joyce's robe. "We can't go with you dressed like that," she continued, surveying the girl with her green eyes. "Hmm," she sounded. Buffy knew that her own clothes would not fit the much taller Miriel. "Why do you have to be so freakishly tall?" she murmured, wondering if her mom's clothing would fit the young Slayer.
"Excuse me," said Miriel, folding her arms across her chest. Had Buffy just insulted her?
"No, mom's stuff is too old fogyish," she surmised. "Crap! What the hell am I thinking?" she said, speaking her thoughts aloud. "This is a dream. I can dress you any way I'd like."
Only a second later, Joyce's fluffy pink robe melted away. In its place, a long sleeved red blouse (to conceal her bruises) and a pair of jeans covered Miriel's body. Without thinking, Buffy had put spiked heels on the girl's feet, adding a few more inches to her height.
"Ow!" the young Slayer complained, her eyes darting to her feet. She took an awkward step forward, nearly twisting her ankle in the process "What kind of shoes are these? They hurt my feet!"
Buffy grimaced. "Sorry! I guess you're not into heels." She quickly changed the girl's footwear, replacing the heels with a comfortable pair of sneakers. "Better?"
Miriel inspected the shoes, finding them more comfortable. "They are strange looking, but feel much better on my feet than those other shoes." She glanced up at Buffy. "Those heels, as you called them, why would anyone want to wear something that causes such pain?"
"Some of us aren't all model-like, tall and slender," grumbled Buffy, not bothering to conceal her envy at Miriel's build. "We need a little help, and heels make us taller."
The young Slayer shook her head, stunned that anyone would willingly go to such lengths to make themselves appear taller. "People in your world are very strange indeed," she uttered under her breath.
"Yeah, well, ditto," replied Buffy, as she turned and headed toward the door.
Miriel followed, asking, "What's ditto?"
"It's gonna be one of those days," the elder Slayer whimpered.
Buffy's hopes of leaving the house were thwarted by Miriel's curiosity. She was already out the front door and on the porch when she realized that the young Slayer had not followed. Grumbling under her breath, she returned inside, calling Miriel's name.
The girl had taken off, exploring the downstairs, moseying from room to room. Buffy found Miriel in the kitchen, standing before the double doors of the refrigerator.
"Come on, we need to go," Buffy informed the girl.
"What's this?" asked Miriel, examining the refrigerator with interest. "It's humming," she announced, placing her ear against the cool surface of the door.
The elder Slayer chuckled. "It's a fridge," she answered. "It keeps food cold. Let me show you."
Miriel stepped back as Buffy pulled opened both doors. A burst of cool air came rushing from the contraption.
"See!" continued Buffy. "This is where we keep milk, eggs, juice. Stuff we like cold." She shifted her gaze to the freezer. "And this freezes food until we're ready to eat it. Meat, TV dinners, veggies, and, most importantly, ice cream."
The girl stared at the opened fridge in amazement. She would never have thought that freezing or cooling food in such a manner was even possible. She was even astonished to see how the various products were packaged. Never before had she seen plastic containers, aluminum soda cans or Styrofoam egg cartons. She wanted to question Buffy about all those things that she had seen.
"Come on, let's go," Buffy finally said, closing the doors. She led Miriel from the kitchen.
"So, how does that - what did you call it - work?" asked the girl, as they stepped into the living room.
"It's called a fridge and it works with electricity," she replied.
"So electricity produces light and cool air," said Miriel, her eyes scanning the living room and its furnishings.
"Yeah, among other things," answered Buffy, feeling a little put out by all the questions.
Miriel stopped beside the desk in the living room and picked up a photograph of Buffy and Dawn. She ran her finger along the glass surface of the frame. "This is so lovely," she said, admiring the picture. "It looks so life-like. How great an artist must be to paint something so small and detailed."
Buffy snorted. "That's a photograph," she answered, stepping to Miriel's side. "It's taken with a camera."
The young Slayer opened her mouth, about to ask what a camera was when Buffy quickly added, "It's a kind of magical device that captures images on film. And that's all I'm gonna say about that." She took the picture from Miriel's hands and returned it to its place on the desk.
"You're wroth with me, aren't you?" asked Miriel, sensing her mentor's frustration.
"No," Buffy lied. She paused, studying the young girl keenly. "I know all this is new to you, and strange," she continued, motioning to nearly everything in the room. "There's so much I wanna show you. But this stuff, the stuff in here, can wait. I wanna show you the world, Miriel. I wanna show you things you never imagined could exist. This stuff is nothing."
"To you, perhaps. But I have never seen such things as miniature portraits, or boxes that emit cool air, or candleless lamps."
"That's nothing," answered Buffy, waving her hand dismissively. "There's so much more than that. We humans have come far since your days. We've advanced a lot." A smile came to the elder Slayer's face. "I'm gonna show you things that'll blow your mind!"
Miriel's brows darted up upon hearing that.
Buffy was quick to add, "Figuratively speaking, of course." She linked arms with Miriel so she could not wander off. "Come on. Let me give you the grand tour of Sunnydale, California in the twentieth, er, twenty-first century."
They walked out onto the porch, down the steps and onto the walkway leading to the sidewalk. With her mouth slightly agape, Miriel's eyes darted to all the things she found interesting, things of which Buffy never gave a second thought. The young Slayer constantly pointed at objects, asking what they were, much like a young child would.
As they strolled by the neighbor's house, Miriel pulled herself free from Buffy's grasp and flew up the driveway, scrutinizing the silver Honda Accord parked outside the garage. She ran her hands over the metal, peering into the windows with her eyes wide with wonder.
Buffy rolled her eyes, realizing that the trip to the mall was going to be a long one. She went after Miriel.
"What kind of carriage is this?" the girl asked in amazement. "I have never seen anything remotely like this before." She moved along the vehicle toward the front, stroking the metal and glass as she walked.
"It's called a car," answered the elder Slayer with a sigh. "People use them for traveling."
When Miriel reached the front of the car, she stopped. "Where is the hitch for the horses?" she asked, inspecting the bumper.
Buffy chuckled under her breath. Images of that Halloween a few years back flashed in her mind. She remembered when she was turned into an eighteenth century noblewoman and how she thought cars were some sort of demons. The smile quickly faded from her face. Miriel's conclusion that the vehicle was some sort of carriage made a hell of a lot more sense than Buffy's thinking it was a demon. She couldn't help but think how truly ignorant she had been when she had become her costume.
"There's no hitch," she finally answered with a frown. Knowing that she would be quizzed on the mechanics of the car, she added, "It runs by magic." Buffy would come to dismiss most of Miriel's questions with that phrase. It just seemed much simpler than the long, detailed explanations that the younger Slayer demanded.
While Buffy was annoyed by the girl's barrage of questions, she did her best to stifle her true feelings. She came to believe that she had subconsciously brought Miriel to Sunnydale in an attempt to help ease the girl's grief. Once her protégé returned to the waking world, she would have to confront a whole new set of obstacles, and, unfortunately, there was no way Buffy could help her. Miriel would soon learn what being the Chosen One really meant, and the loneliness that often accompanied it.
When they finally reached the mall, and Miriel understood what it was, she chortled in her amusement. "I thought you were taking me some place where some infamous weapon was housed," she laughed.
"Huh?" queried a baffled Buffy. "Weapon?"
"Yes, a maul. A wooden hammer. Do you not have mauls in this day and age?"
"Oh," she drawled in reply, the term registering with her at last. "I got it now. A wooden hammer. Yeah, I suppose we have them, but they're pretty primitive." She then excitedly added, "Ooh, I've got a troll hammer back at the Magic Box."
"You know, Buffy," said a concerned Miriel, as they entered through one of the glass doors of the building, "it seems to me that people today rely too much on magic. In my world, only wizards and Ainur wield such power. I think it's folly to depend on magics for so many things. I have been brought up to believe that magic is something not to be taken so lightly, not to be toyed with."
Buffy was in no mood to argue with Miriel. "Yeah, you're probably right," she answered.
Though Miriel thought that the buildings of the future were quite strange, that did not compare to the people she encountered inside the mall.
As they neared a group of teens dressed like punk rockers, Buffy hissed, "Don't stare!" in Miriel's ear.
The young Slayer gaped at the group. She had never seen hair dyed in bright colors and was floored that one kid's hair was shaped into pointy spikes atop his head, while a couple of others had shaved portions of their hair in bizarre patterns. She found their many facial piercings and tattoos rather disturbing as well.
"What the fuck you looking at?" spat one of the boys rudely, his narrowed eyes fixed on Miriel.
"Watch your mouth!" Buffy threatened. The tone of her voice caused the group to continue on their way without so much as another word or dirty look thrown toward the two Slayers.
Miriel felt highly uncomfortable. To hear such language for no reason at all alarmed her. She assumed the kids had to be evil. To her, they most definitely looked and acted the part.
"I cannot believe that such people are permitted to walk freely about," she remarked in dismay. "They're evil."
"Oh, they're not evil. They're teenagers," responded Buffy flippantly.
Miriel was stunned. While seeing those teenagers was quite distressing, she was really shocked to see how some of the girls were dressed. In her time, women were modest, and dressed appropriately. But, in Sunnydale, she was appalled to see women's bosoms about to explode out of their tight, barely there tops. Not to mention the skirts that were so short that she was sure that if the girls bent over, their behinds would show. She even saw some girls wearing shorts apparently of the wrong size, leaving the cheeks of their buttocks exposed to the world. It was indecent and immoral!
The young Slayer was not loving the mall as Buffy had proudly predicted. In fact, she was quite eager to leave it. She didn't like the noise, the neon lighted signs, nor the strange "music" that blared from the various shops they passed. The whole place seemed unnatural, a breeding ground for debauchery. She begged Buffy to go, to depart that wicked place, but her friend refused, insisting that everything was fine and that the people were not evil.
Buffy took Miriel into some of the shops, in search of clothing. However, Miriel found the apparel most offensive and would never garb herself in what her mentor called "trendy" clothing. She'd rather be wearing one of her lovely, floor-length gowns with normal-looking sandals, not ones with heels on them.
Still, Buffy dragged her through the mall, hoping that the young Slayer would find something that she liked. And she did, or, perhaps it would be better said that she saw something that she found intriguing - escalators. Miriel was enthralled by the moving staircases and made Buffy ride them, up and down, several times. But, after a while, even that grew boring and the girl began to whine about leaving that place.
"You're so un-American," grumbled Buffy, as they headed out of the doors leading to the parking lot.
"Thank the Valar for that!" replied a grateful Miriel, quite relieved to be leaving the mall at last.
Buffy found herself rolling her eyes. "You know, Giles would love you."
"Your Watcher?" the girl queried.
"Yeah. You're both killjoys."
Miriel didn't need an explanation to know that that term was unflattering. "Call me what you want," she snapped back. "You may take pleasure in shopping for raiment more befitting a harlot, but I most certainly do not!" She gave a derisive snort. "To think that women in the future choose to dress that way is unconscionable. Thank Eru I was born in more decent times."
Buffy bit her lip, resisting the temptation to rebuke the girl's comment. She took offense to Miriel's words and had to keep telling herself that the whole point of their little excursion was to help take her protégé's mind off her current predicament.
As they walked on in silence, Buffy came to realize that taking Miriel to a place with so many people was probably not the best idea. She had spent so many weeks solely in the company of Bregolas and to suddenly thrust her into a strange world with people so vastly different than what the young Slayer was used to would more than likely be somewhat traumatizing.
She glanced over at Miriel, who appeared solemn once again. The wonderment had left her eyes and a scowl now adorned her face. Buffy feared that her mood would continue to sour, and desperately wanted to make things right with her. She was contemplating where they should go next when all of a sudden Miriel regained control of her mind, taking them back to the place where she felt most comfortable - Dol Amroth, beside the sea.
Miriel inhaled deeply, drinking in the salt air and the scenic beauty of Finduilas' homeland. She was now garbed in the fashion of her people, not Buffy's. "I'm sorry if I have offended you," she said, staring out at the blue waters. "I do not think I'm ready to venture into your world just yet. It's a bit… frightening."
"No, I'm sorry," Buffy countered. "I should've known better. I kinda got carried away. I really didn't consider how different our worlds are and how shocking that could be."
The young Slayer turned her gaze to her mentor. "You like the sea, yes?" she queried.
Buffy smiled. "I like the sea, yes," she answered.
"Let us stay here then, where we both find comfort."
"Okay."
She plopped down on the sand. Buffy followed suit. For a while, both stared at the ocean, lost in thought. Miriel's trip to Sunnydale was not all as she thought it would be. She felt a great sense of relief at being somewhere that she felt safe, at peace. Yet, returning to Middle-earth, even in the dreamscape, meant that she had to confront the reality of her current situation, no matter how glum it was.
"What am I to do, Buffy? What am I to do without Bregolas at my side?" she asked softly, her voice breaking as she spoke.
The elder Slayer pulled her legs up to her chest. She propped her head on her knees, looking at Miriel. "You have two choices, Miriel. You can continue on, or you can go back."
Miriel closed her eyes. Neither prospect seemed appealing. "I'm so terrified, terrified to be alone," she confessed in a barely audible tone.
"You're not alone. I'm with you. I'm always with you. Don't forget that."
The girl's eyes popped open, and she turned toward her mentor. "I just wish you could be with me, like this, walking and talking with me when I'm awake, not just in dreams. When I wake, I shall be alone. There is no comfort in that."
"You're stronger than you know, Miriel. You may not see that, but I do." She eased over in front of Miriel with her back facing the ocean. "I know things seem scary now, but once you see how strong and independent you really are, that'll pass. You're a Slayer, not some weak damsel in distress. You're a lot tougher than you realize, and in time, you'll come to see that. I promise."
"Were you always this way? Strong and brave?"
Buffy shook her head. "No. And I'm not brave all the time. I still get scared. You know that."
Miriel suddenly remembered Buffy's situation, and that she was avoiding her own personal crisis. Though she felt bad for her mentor, her circumstances were much different. "But you have a Watcher, and friends that help you. I have no one. I'm alone, and have no idea where I am going, or if I'll ever find what I'm searching for."
"There are rogue demon hunters out there," Buffy answered. "You're not alone. You might be the only Slayer living in your times, but there are others out there fighting the good fight. You'll find them, Miriel. I know you will." She offered the girl a reassuring smile. "You just have to take things one day at a time," she continued. "I know that sounds cliché, but it's true. The most important thing is not to give up."
Miriel didn't want to give up either. The last thing she wanted was to die from grief like her mother. She wanted to finish what she had started - to find her Watcher. As she looked into the depths of Buffy's eyes, she began to feel a sense of calmness come over her, and some things were starting to become clearer. It was no accident that she and Buffy had met; it was destined to be. For whatever reason, they were thrust together, to help each other face their greatest fears.
She felt that the trip to Sunnydale had not been Buffy's doing, which explained why it had taken so long for her mentor to realize where they were. It had to be the Valar, whom the girl believed were the ones that Buffy constantly referred to as the Powers That Be. Somehow, the Valar felt the need to intervene. Perhaps they wanted Buffy to begin thinking about returning to her own body, to face the inevitable confrontation with Glory.
However, if that were the case, then why were they back in Dol Amroth where Miriel felt safest? Images then flashed in her mind, images from months ago when she had begun preparing to depart Minas Tirith. At the time, no one knew what she was plotting, not even Bregolas. She didn't fear leaving, as it was fear that drove her from her home. Loneliness was far better than the abuse she suffered at the hands of Denethor. Maybe it was Bregolas' destiny to lead her part of the way, and that she had to finish the journey on her own. She had come to rely on him too much. Or, maybe he wasn't meant to come at all. That would explain the drastic changes in his behavior. Even Buffy wanted her to run from him.
Miriel took Buffy's hands in her own. She was beginning to understand things now. Slaying was a sacred duty, and she had been chosen for the task. If the Valar had felt she wasn't up for it, then they probably would've killed her off so the next Slayer could be Called. She had come so far already. It was time for the seventeen year old to grow up, and to embrace her destiny with vigor.
That strength that Buffy spoke of was in her, and when the need arose, it always surfaced. Being alone would not change that. Though she wasn't fond of Sunnydale, the visit did serve its purpose. It showed Miriel that the shadow that fell upon the lands would lift, and that the world would endure and so would its people. It gave her hope that maybe, just maybe, she had played some role in that.
A small smile came to her face. "I'll never give up," she said to Buffy, giving her mentor's hands a reassuring squeeze…