Star-Crossed

Chapter 20

Beuren felt a hand on her shoulder. When she opened her eyes she saw Arathorn looking at her in the mirror. With a soft smile he stood her up straight and looked at her. His eyes were forgiving, green as hers and her father’s.

“I’m not mad at you, you know.” He said simply. “I understand that he did choose me over you. But he left me to, several years back. I would like to think that at some point you could forgive me, not hate me quite as much, but I understand if you don’t. I’d hate me to!” Beuren nodded; there was a knock at the door.

“Will you answer that? I need to finish packing.” With a nod Arathorn left for the door. Beuren sat down on the edge of her bed. Rubbing her face in her hands, she let out a heavy sigh and leaned forward, elbows on her knees.

“He says he wants to… oi!” Arathorn was shoved out of the way.

“You didn’t think to mention a sibiling?” Dwalin barked.

“You wouldn’t understand!” Thorin and Balin jogged in behind him, Balin was trying to calm his brother while Thorin was helping Arathorn up off the floor.

“Your right, I probably wouldn’t! I’m still trying to sort your lies from your truths!” Everyone went silent. Thorin was shocked by Dwalin’s anger towards Beuren, he’d never gotten this upset about anything, let alone Beuren! Arathorn hung his head. Balin glared furiously at his (not so little) little brother.

“I didn’t lie to you, Dwalin, everything you know about me is true, you just don’t know the whole truth.”

“Then tell us the truth.” Thorin said quietly.

“Balin, you’ve figured it out, you’re the only one not talking.”

“It’s her last name, Elendil. That was the name of the king of Gondor, his son was Isildur. Once the battle over middle earth ended, he was on his way home when he was killed. His kin were sent into exile, they are better known as…”

“Dúnedain.” Arathorn finished.

“Happy now? You know the full truth. Now if you’d excuse me I’m going to take my brother back to Rivendell before any of you get killed.” She stepped towards the door, pushing Arathorn out first. She stopped beside Dwalin.

“Thought you had a hold on that temper.” She smiled, patted his shoulder and started towards the door. Before she left she pulled her belt and scabbard off the table, she’d been polishing her sword only nights ago. She tied the belt around her hips, sheathing her sword and adjusting her shirt and vest around it. Thorin held her bow and full quiver out. She smiled and strapped them on. Sliding her battle axe into the belt on the opposite hip, she nodded, and then started out the door, Arathorn close behind.

Arathorn saddled his beautiful brown horse; she was quite calm despite all the rushing around. Beuren was the only person in the city that actually liked to ride horses, she had a normal sized horse, grey with a temper. Her horse, Beleg, was stamping his feet, tossing his head in excitement; he hadn’t been ridden in about eight weeks. She lifted herself up and onto the horse. Arathorn led them out. She leaned down and kissed Thorin.

“Keep the bed warm for me.” She whispered, then kicked her horse into a gallop. Thorin smirked and watched as she rode into the darkness of the night.

The several weeks without Beuren were torture. The third week, a guard had come to Thorin, telling him that someone was coming up the path to the Blue Mountains. He’d rushed out to meet them, only to find it was the first of the several convoy members on their way from Bree.

At the end of the fourth week, several new comers had come, and the first thing they had done was question Thorin. Question his ability to lead; they were trying to turn his people against him. It hadn’t worked as well as they’d planned… so far anyway. They said he was too young, to naïve, which was true, he was quite young for a king, but he had had experience, more than these people obviously, with minds narrower than any other dwarf he’d met. Balin had told him not to worry; they were merely vagabonds looking to stir up trouble.