Star-Crossed

Chapter 11

On the way home she was forced to ride a pony, healer’s orders. Out of sheer boredom she would start to ride circles around Thorin, causing him to have to stop every few seconds. Finally irritated by this he snatched the reins from her and led the pony along. They didn’t talk, just fed the silence. Once they reached Erebor, Dwalin took the reins; he motioned toward Thrain and then turned, taking Beuren home.

That night Beuren lay in bed. He mother came in, angered by the fact that she hadn’t said good bye before she left for battle. As Vanya yelled, Beuren was forced to stay silent; not being able to move her leg and all gave her limited fighting ability. Vanya finally gave up, speaking her daughter wasn’t fighting back to fuel the rage and left the room, slamming the door behind her.

 Beuren looked to her left, the window that she so often looked out stood open. The breeze was cool, but not cold. It aired out the stuffiness of the room. The stars shined brightly tonight. The moon was out of sight, leaving just the stars. Beuren smiled, remembering the many nights she’d snuck out to go sit in the meadow before the mountain and gaze at the stars. Her fondest one was the night that Thorin accompanied her. It was winter, the snow was thick, the stars the brightest she’d ever seen. And him. She’d tried her hardest to stay focused on the lights, she really had. But how could you focus on that beauty-a beauty you couldn’t touch, only see-when you had another handsome creation paying only you any attention. And that beauty you could touch. You could hold. You could love.

The usually strong shield maiden had suddenly become nothing more than a pile of goo, a body without bones. Slowly she reached her hand up, delicate fingers reaching for the fair lights that shone in the sky, when suddenly the window closed. He mother stood before her.

“It’s too cold.” She snapped and then left, slamming the door once more. Beuren brought herself up on her elbow, reaching desperately for the window, maybe then she could reach, but her attempt was in vain. As she grasped the window’s frame, the clouds rolled, covering up the beauty, the light, the stars.

A faint gasp escaped her lips. She watched in sorrow as the clouds grew darker, thicker, and heavier. The low rumble of thunder echoed in her ears. She drew her legs up underneath her, forcing herself to her knees. Beuren threw the window open. Leaning as far out as she could she watched as the stars all over the world disappeared behind the clouds. Rain started falling, biting her shoulders and cheeks. With all the strength she had, she forced herself out of the window, limping around the house. The very last star shined, begging for help. All Beuren could do was watch as the last light was swallowed whole, fading from the existence of the night. Thunder laughed cruelly, bringing tears to her eyes.

“You are right, Balin, son of Fundin.” She said, searching hopelessly for the lights in the sky. “He cannot wait forever.” She whispered. With a silent sigh she hung her head. Allowing several tears to escape, mixing with the raindrops that stung her skin, spreading their cold sorrow through her skin and into the very marrow of her bones. “But he is hidden from me…” Beuren spoke, raising her head for the last time. “like stars in the storm.” With that she limped back towards her window, carefully pulling herself into the comfort of her bedroom.

The next couple weeks Thorin saw little of Beuren, maybe for several moments at the training arena or while taking a stroll through Dale. It was like she was hiding from him. Dwalin and Balin agreed that they had seen very little of her as well. Confused, Thorin decided that he’d have to do it the hard way. He’d have to go to her.

It was the first official day of winter, obviously, it was snowing. Excusing himself from the mountain he made the trek into Dale, just hoping that she’d be there and that he hadn’t made the journey for nothing. The wind was brutal, slipping through every layer of clothing he had, numbing him with every step. He couldn’t escape it. Thorin had never been to Beuren’s home before, by what she’d told him it was more towards the end of town, on the outskirts a bit.

It seemed like hours before he finally found the small cottage. From a distance, the prince could see her, struggling against the wind to get the shutters closed the front of the house. It was almost comical, she yelled angrily, cursing the wind, only to have the shutters slam close and fly open again. Fed up with arguing with mother nature, she disappeared, revealing herself again at the door. She had a small length of twine in her hand. Beuren fought her way to the window, leaning into the wind, and then slammed the shutter’s shut, tying the outer handles together. She turned, froze, and then squinted into the snowy haze.

“Thorin?!” She yelled over the wind. “What are you doing? Come inside, you’ll freeze to death out here! Come.” He hurried in as she held the door open. “Are you mad? What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you. Where have you been? We haven’t seen you. I haven’t seen you.”

“You came all this way, just to see me?” She smiled. “Well, might as well not freeze you in those clothes, come, I’ll heat the fire bit more.” She led him to the sitting room, a quaint house it was indeed, quaint but welcoming. Beuren motioned to the chair adjacent to the fire place.

“Thank you. Now, if you would be so kind, where have you been?”

“Here, helping my mother, healing up the leg, you know the usual.” She said, disappearing into the kitchen.

“You and your mother are getting along now?”

“No, quite the opposite. She was so fed up with me that she moved out. Can’t say I blame her, I’m not easy to get along with. It’s only temporary however, only until the summer, unfortunately. Rivendell she said, as though it wouldn’t snow there as well, but if it makes her happy.” Thorin smirked.

“How is your leg by the way?”

“Better, I was able to take the stitches out several evenings ago, still taking it easy though, just in case.” There was an awkward silence, Thorin wanted to say something, but wasn’t sure what.

In the kitchen Beuren sat on the counter, nervous. It was only weeks ago when she’d gone slightly mental, comparing him to the stars. She still couldn’t get the light blush off her cheeks. Even the mere thought of him made her cheeks flush! How was she supposed to sit here and hold a conversation with him?

Thorin stared into the fire for several moments. He wouldn’t admit it, but that night, several weeks ago, when he was preparing to check on Beuren, Dwalin had stopped him.  He told him what he’d seen, Beuren Elendil had been desperately reaching out for the stars, but it is what she said that surprised him the most. Talk of a man being hidden from her, like the stars in the storm. He questioned who the man was, but Dwalin had no answer. Though he could have guessed, the warrior dwarf had kept it to himself. When she emerged from the kitchen she held a bottle in her hand. She passed it too him, smiling slightly.

“Take a swig of that, it’ll warm you right up.” He uncorked the bottle, taking a sip. The liquor itself tasted fine, but it was the bite at the end that made him question its quality. “Cheap liquor is always good for a quick warm up, trust me, I’d know. Now, do you want anything of quality to drink? The Greenwood elves make exceptional honey mead, and we just so happen to have a bottle.”

“I’m fine thank you.” He laughed.