It had become past midday when Míriel sat out on Windfola toward the Pelennor Fields for she could not stay in the city whilst her companions fought out in the fields. It was hard leaving Gandalf and Pippin behind, but the Wizard has assured her that it was all right of her to leave. Gandalf had told her that he hoped Aragorn would not be in the battlefield yet, for apparently had given him instructions to seek the army of the Dead in the White Mountains to take on the Black Ships. The Dead were cursed to never pass on unless a descendant of Isildur released them from their curse, and this heir was of course Aragorn. If Aragorn had succeeded he would not arrive at the battle until he had found the hundreds of undead soldiers who would fight on their side and assuring that they stood a chance against the Orcs.

Rohan's army had done well at the beginning of the battle until the Southrons came with their Mumakils. The creatures were extremely large and had the capability of crushing a horse easily under their feet. The Southrons who rode the beasts were evil Men from Harad who had a long and bloody history with the people of Gondor. It was horrible enough for them to side with Sauron and Mordor.

"Éomer!" Míriel cried and a smile played on her lips as she saw the young rider.

Éomer was actually not on horseback but on foot as he fought the Orcs with much skill. He saw her and it was almost as if he did not recognise her at first until he came a bit closer and smiled widely. To be reunited with someone who reminded Míriel of Edoras and the calmer days there made her happy. Éomer seemed unharmed, fortunately, but she had not seen Merry, Théoden or most importantly Legolas.

"Where is Legolas?" Míriel asked him quickly.

"My lady," Éomer said and fought his way toward her. He was dirty and there was blood on his face but it didn't seem to be his own. Míriel killed and Orc that stood in their way and smiled as she met Éomer halfway. "Prince Legolas and Master Gimli went with Lord Aragorn into the mountains, but we do not know for what reasons."

"I know why and it makes me happy," Míriel said and smiled since it was not surprising to hear that Legolas and Gimli had refused to let Aragorn go alone. They would all be there soon enough she knew, and with an army of the undead. "What of Éowyn, is she alright? Merry?"

"My sister was left behind at the camp with the Hobbit. My uncle did not think Merry would fit in the fight."

"You must have been glad of that," Míriel said and chuckled. "It makes me glad to hear that Éowyn and Merry are alright, though I imagine that Éowyn was not happy about being left behind."

Éomer laughed at that and nodded. They both knew that the young shieldmaiden wanted nothing more than to fight for her land, but as a woman and as a lady she was not allowed to do so.

"King Théoden should be somewhere around," Éomer said after giving Míriel a trying smile. "But we were attacked by a Nazgul, by the Witch-King of Angmar who was on his fellbeast. He disappeared suddenly, though, and his fellbeast was killed. I believe the Witch-King was defeated by someone but I do not know who. It was a young man, that is all I know, never seen him before. I was distracted as the man killed the Nazgul."

"We must find him and praise him," said Míriel and widened her eyes.

To defeat not only a Nazgul but the Witch-King of Angmar was something that no one else had ever done before. The Witch-King was supposed to be impossible to kill but apparently, people had been wrong. There had to be a lot of courage in the young man's heart, and a lot of strength. Míriel wondered what price he had to pay for doing something so dangerous.

Míriel fought side by side with Éomer until she finally saw a dirty man with sweat dripping from his hair and a sword so magnificent that Míriel gasped as it swung around and killed every orc in the way. Behind the man came a short, round Dwarf who seemed to enjoy using his axe against the Orcs. The Dwarf was soon overshadowed by a beautiful Elf with golden hair and a timeless face. Legolas used his bow to hit every target he aimed at.

"Legolas!" she cried and did not hesitate to hurry toward them.

Míriel hesitated before throwing her arms around his torso, and fortunately, Legolas did the same to her. A smile formed on his face and the most beautiful laughter escaped from his lips as they looked to each other. Legolas carefully caressed her cheek and Míriel could notice nothing else but him. It may have been a little foolish of them to stand in the midst of a battlefield, gazing into each other's eyes and not caring about anything else. Gimli did not let a single Orc get close to the two, though, and let them have their moment of peace.

"Not to interrupt but I'll win this contest by yards if you don't start fighting, lad," said Gimli and smashed his axe down on an Orc, buried the blade into its chest and then pulling it out.

"It will be the only way for you to win," Legolas said and grinned, released Míriel's hands and turned toward the dwarf.

Míriel hurried to Gimli and embraced him quickly while he only chuckled and told her that he was happy to see her again. From Aragorn, she received a smile and a quick nod for he was quite busy. Míriel started fighting side by side with Gimli and Legolas who decided to restart the competition now that Gimli had gotten more time. Míriel secretly joined them because the last time in Helm's Deep when only one Orc had separated the Dwarf and Elf; Míriel had killed five more than the winner. It would be a pleasure seeing their faces when she won this contest as well.

"This time you will not win Gimli!" Legolas said and shot an arrow into one of the Orc's chest with a smile on his lips. "I am already on ten."

"I'm at eleven, boy!" Gimli laughed and swung his axe against the back of an Orc. Míriel glanced at them and shot an Orc who was rather far away. She decided to tell the two if only to keep them a little motivated since she had a higher score than them.

"Not that I keep count or anything," Míriel said and chopped the head of an Orc that was coming her way. She smiled at Gimli smugly, because she knew that he would be very surprised by this. "But I'm at nineteen."

Both Legolas and Gimli turned their head towards Míriel surprised and raised their eyebrows. They wouldn't let Míriel beat them, only because she was the worst of the three at teasing. Míriel swung around and blocked an Orc's sword with her own, turned him around and shot an arrow through his neck. Another Orc was growling, coming closer to her and she quickly shot another arrow through his one eye. Míriel turned around and noticed the slightly transparent green ghosts spreading over the battlefield, taking a huge Mumakil down easily. The green spirits were, of course, the undead army who were filled with men similar to skeletons clad in armour.

The more they fought, the more they seemed to come close to the end of the battle since there were already so many dead laying on the ground. Aragorn and his companions had brought the advantage over the Mordor forces since the undead did not grow tired or could be killed.

A loud cry caused them all to turn around - another Mumakil was approaching them with heavy steps. Every step it took made the ground shake slightly for it was heavy as a small mountain and tall as one as well. Míriel didn't know how they would bring it down, its skin appeared to be as thick as a dragon's. It was possible to kill them, though, even if the poor animals did not know what they were doing. They had riders steering their every step, riders who had travelled far.

"Legolas!" Aragorn yelled and nodded toward the Mumakil. Legolas widened his eyes slightly but nodded, a second later he hurried forward towards the huge Mumakil creature. Míriel shot an Orc and tried focusing on killing them instead of watching Legolas all the time.

Míriel glanced at Legolas after a moment of battling and saw him standing on the Mumakil's bareback - he had managed to remove the saddle from its back. There sat dozens of riders who shot arrows down at the ground, but Legolas had probably killed all of them by making them fall toward the ground. He ran towards the Mumakil's neck and shot it with two arrows quickly. The Mumakil roared in pain and collapsed to the ground which almost made Míriel lose her balance, while Legolas slid down its trunk swiftly. When he stood on solid ground again, he looked very pleased with himself for doing what he'd done and smiled faintly towards Míriel with a wink. He had made it seem so easy, but Míriel was quite sure she wouldn't be able to do what he had just done.

Gimli glared at Legolas, astonished by what the Elf had done. There was no denying that Legolas was the most skilled one of them all with many, many years of training. Míriel blamed it on that he was about a thousand years older than her and he had been raised among the very skilled and dangerous Silvan Elves. If she had been as free as he was to fight when she was younger, she would be even better surely.

"That still only counts as one!" Gimli bellowed, refusing to acknowledge Legolas' skills.

Míriel laughed and finished off the last few Orcs before her, though really there wasn't much more to do. The army of the undead was almost flying over the field, killing all Orcs in their way. The army continued into the city of Minas Tirith itself, to take care of those orcs that were in there still. Míriel sighed with relief and smiled because it did seem like they had actually won. There were more men than Orcs standing now, much more. They had done it - they had the victory at Minas Tirith.

Though all odds had been against them they had managed to win the battle of Gondor and Minas Tirith. It was not as it had been at Helm's Deep, though, for no joy could be heard just as no smiles could be seen from the victorious. A solemn veil laid over the fields for the loss of their own was great and more than half of the troops had been killed. They all knew that there was no feast to be celebrated that night.

Míriel turned around to Legolas, to make sure he was well and unharmed. He stood there, looking as beautiful and handsome as always, not even a cut on his face, and smiled faintly at her before he started walking towards Aragorn. The undead had come to Aragon again after full victory had been achieved.

"Release us," the King of the undead said to Aragorn.

This was what Aragorn had promised them to do if they fought for him, let their souls be at peace after so many years trapped in the Dwimorberg mountain at the Paths of the Dead. He would have to be true to his word, even if the spirits may not deserve to be released after what they had done in their lives.

"Bad idea," Gimli said to Aragorn and glanced at him. "Very handy in a tight spot these lads. Despite the fact they're dead."

"You gave us your word!"

"I hold your oath fulfilled," Aragorn said for he was an honest man who kept his promises. "Go, be at peace."

And in seconds they had withered away into nothing but smoke blown away by the wind to be free. They were gone - making Gimli sigh, thinking it was a waste of a good army.

Míriel sighed as their passing assured her that the battle was truly over, and it was time to regroup. First, she would need to help heal as many people as possible that could be saved and started right away as she walked through the Pelennor fields. Míriel kneeled next to a man whose skin was pale and his eyes were wide open. He was no longer alive but she closed his eyes anyway so that he could be at peace wherever his soul was now.

She stood up and continued to walk over the fields of Pelennor when suddenly she heard a loud cry of pain - not the pain of someone that had hurt himself but the pain piercing the heart. It was a pain only another person's hurt could cause. Míriel turned her head towards the cry and saw Éomer fall to the ground next to his fair-haired little sister and held her in his arms, rocked her slowly.

Míriel gasped - her heart stopped beating for a moment when the panic overcame her and she hurried towards them both. Éowyn could not be dead, what was she even doing there in the battle? Míriel could not bear the thought of losing yet another friend. She kneeled next to Éomer and looked at Éowyn - brave, brave Éowyn. Her arm was dark as if she was badly bruised underneath her light and pale skin. Had she really killed the Witch-King of Angmar, was this a sign of what she had managed to do what no other man had done?

"Please, do something!" he begged Míriel with tears in his blue eyes. "Save my sister."

Míriel placed her hand on Éowyn's forehead and did not feel the coldness of a dead body - she was warm and alive to Míriel's great relief. But she could still feel very strong darkness inside of Éowyn, she would die if Míriel didn't do anything to help her. Míriel had never seen anything like it before.

"She is alive," Míriel said and smiled, tears pricked her eyes with joy. "Barely, but still very wounded. She needs to be taken to the infirmary quickly. She is going to survive."