2nd March 3019 TA, Edoras, door of Meduseld Palace
The row over the leaving of weapons at the door of Meduseld reignited up again at Gandalf's staff. To speed up proceedings Breguril shoved the Istar aside and took the place in front of the Rohirr later identified as Hama. She drew upon her knowledge of Men and men - she could count above twentyeight, after all - and cried out in a quivering voice while clutching at her throat and shielding her eyes:
- Oh fair and once kind hearted knight! Here stands before you my wizened and grizzled uncle – while waving dramatically at the fuming Wizard.
If glares could kill the Noldo princess would had been charred meat.
- His old battle wounds make him little better than a cripple. Oh, what cruel lord must you have to demand a walking stick from a cripple! I can feel that your heart is not craven but your orders cold and merciless! Yet our errand is pressing! Perhaps a ... a maid's sacrifice of her ... Precious ... would sway your hand?... she no longer looked at Hama but turning her orbs to the side, and tried to drag her filthy, sweaty wimple over her face, as if to cover in shame in what she was offering ...
- Forsooth - the doom of my maidenhead has come! SNIFF! But this cruel trade, for my crippled relative's walking stick, must be done. He is the last kin I've got ...
She sniffed with such vigour that a jittery horse in the courtyard below neighed in alarm. Breguril now made the eyes of a kicked puppy at the Doorward. She made a move as if she was to cast herself into his arms while being disgusted at doing so. Her lower lip quivered ...
Hama blinked, swallowed and waved his arms about to avoid the grapple:
- Just move on, move on – stepping back, the now red faced Doorward squeaked and shot anxious glances at his colleagues, as if worried that they would deem him harbouring thoughts of deflowering, defiling and despoiling the elf-maid here and now, on the doorstep of Meduseld.
20th of March 3019 TA, Minas Tirith
During the Batlle of the Pellenor Fields Breguril's horse threw her, spooked by the pungent stench of the Mumakil, into the path of a unit of Haradrin Horse. She could barely walk for a few days afterward and thus could not leave for the Black gate with the Host of the West. A few days later, however, she terrorised Faramir and commandeered several thousand infantry for an assault at Minas Morgul. This gave her something to do and was yet another diversion keeping Sauron's eye away from Frodo. Or so she hoped.
24th of March 3019 TA, two thirds up the Morgul Vale
The unhorsed Nazgul approached. And it was as if darkness itself marched alongside him, dimming the Morgul Vale even further. The wraith's orc followers were barely visible in the murk.
Once at several score paces from the Gondorians the Nazgul shrieked, making their hearts falter. Some dropped their weapons and slunk to their knees, some fell to the ground, griping their heads, whole yet others were ready to bolt. Ready to run through the briars and the brambles and bushes where the rabbits wouldn't go, all the way to the Anduin and the Gulf of Belfalas.
But then the elleth stepped forward and revealed all her power of an Eldar of the Elder days, of one who had seen the Two Trees. She gave of a radiance that blinded the orcs and made them stop, even the Nazgul hesitated and halted. Those men who stood in her radiance found their courage again or found the strength to pick up their weapons and stand behind their fearless leader.
The commanders of the two forces began to speak in a language unbeknownst to their minions. Had the Men of Gondor been able to follow their exchange, they would have heard Breguril respond to the Nazgul's haughty words demanding her submission:
- I've faced dragons and balrogs, Wraith, you are but a shitsmear on my boot.
- Crawl, dog! – she shouted Words of Power.
After a short lasting battle of wills the Wraith succumbed to Breguril's might and took first one, then another step forward. The Noble Noldo kept on staring down the Unnatural creation. Then, still under her unwavering gaze, her whole visage bright like the full moon, the wraith went down to his knees. And then finally he crawled – Breguril's radiance making steam-like tendrils rise from his dark cloak - to her boot. The elf maid struck her sword through the cloak into the place where the spine should be. A terrible shriek filled the air, yet it no longer scared the Men of Gondor. The orcs to the contrary – seeing their Overlord's demise and hearing his death-scream the orcs gave a mighty cry and fled up the valley towards Minas Morgul, stumbling over one another, stabbing one another for right of way to expedite their flight from the terrifying Secret Daughter of Galadriel. And so was born the legend of the Goluglob Warrior-Witch, a legend which lived with the orcs of the south deep into the Fourth Age. This legend died with them and then passed from the annals of Arda.
121 FA, Caras Galadhon
Breguril let her tears roll as she closed the lifeless eyes of her niece. Although she had lived two hundred years aware that it would come to this, nevertheless her brain had recoiled from embracing the fact. Elves simply did NOT die this way. After a few minutes she composed herself and rose to her feet. She embraced her sons and daughters and – leaving the raising of the cairn over Arwen to them – she shouldered her pack and bow and headed for Mithlond. With her niece dead there was nothing left for her in Middle Earth - everybody else who had mattered to her had sailed or died. The age of the Elves was over while her children were of the Race of Men. She marched towards the ship to take her to the Furthest West while carrying the image of her children still vibrant with life with her.
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AN
While she held little Eldarion Breguril felt her ovaries go apeshit crazy. Over the next thirty years she had six sons and five daughters with various men. She simply liked babies. And like Mithrellas before her she left her children in Arda.
The children at this point were fully grown, no longer "cute" and all were financially secure. The most capable of her older sons, Beren, became Lord of Lorien at her departure.