Star-Crossed

Chapter 17

The day had finally come, coronation day. Thorin woke to Dis’s soft knocking. Reluctant to get up he just waited. Then he heard a loud banging on the door. His sister began screaming, ordering him up and out of bed. He got up and threw the door open.

“Let us not wake the neighbors.” He hissed. She made a face and walked away. He turned and dressed in his finest. Dwalin and Balin met him in the living room, strapping on his breastplate, he tightened the vambraces and was patient as his sister started a braid. Everyone wore a smile, but not their usual smiles. It was a grin you wore when you knew something someone didn’t and weren’t going to tell them.

“What are you guys hiding?” He asked sternly.

“Oh, nothing.” Dis sang. Dwalin straightened out his own armor and then nodded. There was a knock at the door. They all held their breaths, smiles growing wider. Seeing as though no one was going to answer the door, Thorin invited them in.

“Come in!” He boomed. The door opened, revealing a stranger, or so he thought. “Dosdrat, it’s been a long time.” He said, looking at the yellow haired dwarf. Dosdrat smiled, bowed slightly and looked at Dis.

“Give me two shakes dear.”

“Dear?!” Dwalin, Balin, and Thorin all looked down at her. She smiled, tied off her brother’s braid and trotted happily to Dosdrat’s side.

“We’ll see you three there!” She called over her shoulder, dragging the yellow haired dwarf behind her. The three companions shared a look.

“Did she tell you?” Balin asked Thorin.

“No, either of you?”

“No.” They all looked up at the door.

“Hmmm.” All three of them hummed, and then turned back to Thorin’s armor.

In another part of the mountain, Beuren was regretting ever waking up. She had told her three secret keepers that she would be dressing in her armor, her formal armor. That raised a lengthy argument, the three of them deciding a dress and circlet would suit her better. She rummaged through a small trunk that once belonged to her mother. She had snagged it after the fire in Dale had gone out, it was the last of Vanya’s belongings she had.

Beuren found it, the dress, with a smile she held it up, the perfect length. The kirtle was a silvery blue, it contrasted well with the dark almost black blue of the surcoat. A dark silver pattern stood out against the velvet like fabric, it was a simple pattern, nothing overly fancy. She slid her feet into a pair of flat soled shoes and hooked the metallic belt around her middle. Her hair was pinned back, out of her face, but it still flowed smoothly down her back. She hooked a necklace around her neck, it was a simple silver chain, a sapphire had been strung from the center.

Blue and silver. The whole mountain seemed to be decorated in blue and silver or grey. It could’ve been worse; Thorin thought to himself, they could have chosen orange and purple. He smiled inwardly to himself and took a deep breath. Everyone wore some variant of blue and either silver, grey, or black. He started down the stairs, as he did everyone turned to face him, clearing a path.

Some unseen band started playing, it was a soft tune, harps, he presumed. He looked up to see Balin smiling, holding a crown gingerly in his hands. Thorin grew nearer, smiling at the eldest of the small group, and a dear friend of his. He knelt down before him. The crown was placed atop his head; he rose, looking back at Balin. Dwalin stood behind his brother, holding back a grin.

“I now, gladly present to you your new king, Thorin Oakensheild, son of Thrain, son of Thror. Our light in the darkest of places.” Thorin bowed a little.