Star-Crossed

Chapter 18

 Several hours had passed; most of the mountain had commended Thorin. He was starting to get slightly annoyed by all of the people around him. He’d gotten minimal sleep the night before as it was; this was wearing him down slowly. When he’d finally had enough he snuck away. He and Beuren had gotten good at this, sneaking away from parties to avoid the people that attended them, or to go off in search of more interesting things to do.

 Thorin stood by the refreshment table. He nodded at several passersby then waited for several more moments, just ensuring no one would pay any mind to him suddenly not being there. With two large steps backwards he disappeared into the shadows. He stayed close to the wall, the dark stone concealing him perfectly in the shadows.

 Passing behind several large stone pillars, he finally made it to the door. He stepped out, no one noticed him. With a smirk he turned and started back towards his quarters. He walked as quietly as possible, which still seemed loud in the cavernous halls.

 “I suppose you think that was terribly clever.” Thorin jumped, looking back at the shadows. Beuren stepped out, smirking ever so slightly.

 “It was getting tiresome; I haven’t had much sleep the last several weeks.”

 “Because of the campaign?” She grinned.

 “There were other factors.” He smiled back. Beuren stepped closer, her soft even steps hardly sounded on the stone. She stopped just out of arm’s reach. Thorin wanted so desperately to grab her, but didn’t want to startle her or make things uncomfortable, but, judging by her talk only hours ago, she wouldn’t have been too uncomfortable.

 When he didn’t reach for her, as she’d planned, Beuren was a little confused. Though she hid her emotion well, she couldn’t help but wonder if, in fact, he really had wanted to reach for her at all, ever. No, when his breath hitched earlier, when she said ‘that might be us someday’ that had to be a good sign, right?

 Neither moved. They just stared, blue eyes meeting green, hands at their sides. Both wishing that the other would get the courage, that one would extend a hand. Finally decided that they’d have to do it themselves, they moved in.

 Thorin stepped forward, his arm taking her waist, his opposite hand cupping her cheek. Beuren walked with a grace she’d never before used. Her left hand gripped the back of his neck, the right rested on his chest. Before either of them knew what was happening, Beuren’s back was pressed to the cold stone wall, Thorin’s hand wandered to her thigh, hiking her dress a bit.

 When her nearly silent gasps turned to moans, Thorin stopped. They both were breathing heavily. A sort of stuffiness filled the air around them, making it feel balmy. They were suddenly both conscious of their surroundings, looking quickly to see if there were people watching.

 “Let us take this somewhere private, shall we?” Thorin whispered into Beuren’s cheek.

 “Yours or mine?”

 “I have the bigger bed.” Beuren giggled, grasping his hand and pulling him towards his home. They arrived at his quarters barely making it in the door. Beuren pushed the door closed with her foot and stepped into Thorin, their lips crashing together.

 Thorin shrugged off his armor and struggled out of his boots, not taking his lips from Beuren’s. She giggled, that sweet little laugh sent Thorin’s mind crumbling. Beuren tugged at his heavy shirt, breaking the kiss she pulled it over his head, reuniting their lips soon after.

 The newly appointed king brought her close, scrunching the skirt of her dress in his hands. She slipped out of it, blushing, and then pressed herself to him, kissing the nape of his neck. He picked her up, wrapping her legs around his waist, then stumbling into his sleeping chamber.

 The next morning Beuren woke. She stretched, smiling at the dream she’d just awoken from. When she rolled over, however, she realized her dream was not entirely a dream. Beside her, Thorin lay, sleeping soundly. She stared for a moment before covering her mouth, it’d really happened.

 The king was on his stomach, arms folded under his pillow. Beuren smiled, how convenient it was that the sheets had been pulled down, revealing his strong, carven back. Lightly, with the pads of her fingers, she ran her hand down his arm to his hand. He mumbled something in his sleep and sighed heavily. She smiled and propped herself up on her elbow. She looked down at him, his shoulders and back held several scars and tattoos, but one in particular caught her eye.

 A small gasp escaped her lips, then her smile broadened. The dwarven runes translated  to gimli âzyungâl… star lover. Beuren felt butterflies in her stomach. Had he really had that inked into his shoulder, her elven name translated, and didn’t even tell her?