Star-Crossed

Chapter 13

On her walk home Beuren had been thinking about the next day’s events. She would tidy up the house, replenish her pantry at the market, and tend to the garden a bit. She had always been pretty good at gardening, being an elf and all; she was very in tune with nature. But the more time she spent with the dwarves, the more in tune she came with other things, metals, mountains, caves, and things of that sort. She had a love for both.

When she opened the door to her cottage she sighed. Her mother hadn’t come back from Rivendell, but no matter, she was perfectly fine on her own. With a weak smile Beuren hung her cloak on the peg and started removing her belt. Her sword eased from her hips, and she sighed, finally free of its weight. A though arose in her head; a warm bath seemed most inviting after the cool walk home. She went into the bathroom, turning on the water.

As Beuren waited for the bath to fill, she hurried to her room, slipping off her boots and putting them by the door. She quickly searched for her the lavender scented body oil that her mother had left behind. With a smirk she set it in the bathroom. Undressing, Beuren wrapped in a towel and left for the warmth of the water. Twisting her hair into a braid she stepped into the water. Slowly she lowered herself into the bath, careful not to wet her hair, and then closed her eyes leaning back.

For the next hour she soaked. All candles had been snuffed, save that of the fire place. The faint orange glow from the fire was quite calming. Beuren had dozed off several times, reawakening each time. Sleep was beckoning for her. Finally, barely able to keep her eyes open any longer, she stood, draining the water, and wrapping again in her towel. She applied the lavender oil, trying to rehydrate her skin from the last cruel winter.

Beuren ever so slowly stumbled out to the living room. She yawned and then went to the kitchen, grabbing a glass and pouring a small bit of mead. Happily she sipped, sighing and leaning against the counter. The last time Beuren actually had time to relax, and that’s not counting sleep, she couldn’t remember.

Finishing her drink, she set the glass in the sink and made her way back to her room. The room seemed a bit cooler than it was before, but the fire was still burning. The windows were all closed, she couldn’t think of any reason why it would be cold.

“If I’d realized you would have been in a towel, I’d have knocked. “ She jumped, turning to face Thorin.

“You startled me.” His eyes wandered her momentarily before focusing on hers.

“It was not my intention.” He drew closer.

“Thorin, how much ale did you have tonight?”

“Not much, one or two, you should have seen Dwalin he was sloshed.” That was saying something, speaking that dwarves were no light weights, Thorin and Dwalin could drink eight pints and still be well enough to walk, talk, and function sort of properly.

“What are you doing?”

“Just came to see you. Do you want me to leave?” He smirked.

“No, uh, well, no.” She stuttered. He stepped ever closer, taking her waist he closed the gap. His hand took hers and led them in a dance. She was smiling, not able to tell if one or two meant nine or ten. She cocked her head to the side a bit, smiling a confused smile. “Is there something you want or why are you really here?”

Thorin shrugged, pulling her yet closer, if possible. He let his eyes wander to hers, taking in their beauty. Still they danced, her hand in his, arm around his shoulders. The prince leaned forward, resting his forehead against Beuren’s. She smiled softly, closing her eyes and letting a soft breathe escape. He prayed that a quick burst of boldness would take him over, give him the confidence he needed.