Star-Crossed

Chapter 28

Three years later…

Arador waited impatiently for his daughter to get her horse up off the ground. She tried everything. Pushing. Pulling. Coaxing. Even bargaining. This horse merely glared at her from its spot on the dewy grass. Finally fed up with it, she stomped her foot and yelled at the horse in fluent Dwarfish. Rolling his eyes Arador got onto his mare and nudged her forward, that got Beleg moving! He lunged forward, not letting Selen out of his sight. Beuren leapt forward, grabbing the horn of her saddle and swinging herself up, bags already tied down. With a stupid smile she and her horse trotted alongside Arador. He looked up at her, laughed then urged his horse forward.

They were heading for Rohan and decided to pass over the Misty Mountains and follow the Anduin down to Rohan. Taking the Gap of Rohan would be easier, but Beuren had instructions from Gandalf to meet someone near the area, Beorn she thought his name was. A skin changer of the North.

They cantered on for several hours before stopping. Arador smiled. Pointing, he told her about Mount Gram. It was the mountain that the orcs occupied. Too many for the two of them to take on he said. She smiled, remembering the time her and Thorin took on one hundred orcs in the Iron Hills. Her heart fluttered, making her slightly faint, at the memory of Thorin. Beuren pushed the thoughts away. Arador had informed her of the Ettenmoors that lay just on the other side of Mount Gram. They were crawling with trolls.

“The Coldfells.” He said, pointing a little farther to the right, South in this case. “That is where we will cross. Few orcs, and nearly none of those damned trolls. Now if we continue on we’ll reach the edge by nightfall. We can rest and continue on in the morning.”

They rested there, as said. Under the star streaked sky. Beuren lay on her stomach next to her father, he absentmindedly ran his hand through her long brown hair. She was asleep, though the drop of a hat would wake her. Beuren had a funny knack for waking randomly throughout the night, to check up on her father.

But this night she didn’t wake. Saddle sore and exhausted she slept on. Dreams were nonexistent. Beleg and Selen were grazing in the moonlight. Arador turned to them when he saw them acting rather odd. Side stepping and rearing, neighing loudly. He stood peeking around the trees. There, two hill trolls came, bounding from the distance.

“Beuren…” He whispered. “Beuren we need to leave, now!” Her eyes snapped open and she looked up at him.

“Trolls.” She whispered. He grabbed her hand, hauling her to her feet. They ran hand in hand through the trees. The trolls broke the tree line with a hideous crash. The sound of splintering wood was enough to make even the bravest cringe. For a while the only noise that could be heard was the thunderous footsteps of the trolls and the breaths of the rangers. Beuren’s foot caught in a root, sending her to her stomach. She landed with a thud, knocking the wind from her lungs.

Her father took her hand, again pulling her to her feet. Even more breathless she tried her best to keep time with him. Arador stopped before her; he shoved her roughly backwards into some shrubbery. He turned, sword drawn, face determined. She rolled to her side and looked at him curiously, she couldn’t believe how utterly king like he looked. The sound of the trolls grew nearer.

“Ah, ‘ere it is!” One grumbled, looking down at her father. They were both a staggering ten feet tall, and easily weighed a ton each. She fought for air. Her lungs burning, chest and stomach aching. She watched in dismay as her father took on the trolls, alone.

One finally back handed him, he hit a tree nearby and landed on the rough ground beside her. She shook him, trying to wake him. He slowly opened his eyes, nodding and then rising to his feet. She stood with him. She’d lost too many people from just watching.