Star-Crossed

Chapter 8

Thorin and Beuren listened as the King gave orders, explaining the route they would take and the point of their traveling. He ordered everyone into their lines, then with one last quick inspection, led them out. Within the first several minutes, they two of them had been separated.

For the rest of the day and whole night they marched. The long hours brought them a little over the quarter mark. They set up camp, Thorin had been asked to meet with his father and grandfather. The three of them were bent over a map. Thrain and Thror were questioning, seeing if he’d be able to lead an attack by himself if necessary. The flap on the tent was pushed aside. Dwalin stepped in, Beuren behind him, Balin following up the rear.

“My lords.” Beuren bowed slightly. “Th…” She caught herself from saying Thorin before the King. “My prince.” Thorin smirked. “A bird has come.” She said, holding up her arm, between her middle and index fingers was a small folded piece of parchment. “It came from a dear friend of my mother’s in the Iron Hills, it is not looking good there.”

“Read it.” She unfolded it then looked back at them.

“Are you sure you don’t just want a quick…”

“Detailed please.” Thror sighed.

“i' glamhoth gar minna i' orod.I' numen ras talent. Eller ai coiasira hyarya ten'. Lye ier varna de e' i' rhun raama ten' sii'. Tua lye.” (The orcs have entered the mountain. The West peak has fallen. There is little time left for us.We are safe up in the east wing for now. Help us.) Everyone held a blank stare.

“The quick one.”

“Orcs are in the West mountain, they are held up in the East.” Thror sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“This is ill news.”

“I understand that it is not my place, but we should march on the mountain. You should move your armies out immediately.” She stared the King down. With a nod he stood.

“I do agree. Dwalin, rally the troops.”

“Yes my lord.”

“As for you two.” Thror said, turning to his grandson and Beuren. “It is time you two head home.”

“Grandfather…”

“Absolutely not!” Beuren barked. “We have trained for many years! I understand we could use more, but not only are we almost halfway there and committed, but the people in those mountains need help, as much as they can get. Rarely has this ever happened, it is time to put the orcs back in line.” Thrain and Thror looked at her with a new found admiration. “We. Will. Fight.” Thorin smiled, leaning back in his chair, looking between his king and father. Their looks of surprise humored him. Thorin knew that not only would Beuren never step down from a fight, but she would never step down to any man, and that included her King. Nodding, Thror looked at his son. Thrain nodded as well.

“Then you fight.” With that said they stood, and started out towards the troops, half of which were already marching.

They reached the mountains by the next evening. They were expecting to see no orcs, that they would all be inside the mountain, unprepared, unknowing. But what they found was quite different. An army of five hundred stood, lined up, waiting.  Their army of three hundred would have been rocked, if not for their fierceness and skill. As for how many had taken refuge inside the mountain, they did not know. Thror started on a speech, telling his men to stand strong and fight.

“It is not too late for you to turn back, my lady.” Thorin teased. The orcs grew restless and started charging.

“I’m afraid it is, my lord.” She replied. Thorin was surprised by her words, my lord. With a smirk, Beuren gave a fierce battle cry, leaping into battle, the rest of the army following close behind.