Star Crossed

Author: Ally (aka MrsRGrint)
Date Written: Incomplete
Story Title: Star crossed
Brief description of story: This is the tale of two totally different people who meet in a bus station and gradually fall in love. Will it be smooth sailing for this couple of star crossed lovers or will it be a bumpy ride? Read and all will be revealed.


http://i37.photobucket.com/albums/e58/HU_Admin/New%20Graphics/Star-Crossed.gif

~Chapter One~

The Lion is unleashed

The starry night sky was clear from cloud as Lúthien Elanessë, Princess of Alatáriël made her way to the feast that would decide her fate. She was aware of the fact that the ball being held tonight was in honour of her 21st Birthday but still she wished she didn’t have to go through with this. She was to make a decision tonight that would change her life forever. Perhaps even more than even she could imagine.

Valandil Elanessë received word that his daughter was on her way and quickly brought the grand hall of Ecthelion Castle to silence as the rambling crowd heard the chinking of Gelmir (a form of Elvin silver) On the Kings diamond goblet. When he was sure that everyone was paying attention he rose to his feet and cleared his throat.

“As you all know, we are gathered here tonight to celebrate my beautiful Lúthiens coming of age for both ascension to the throne and also for a decision to be made to whether she will take over my place as ruler of our land or to go out and explore the lands beyond the sea.”

At this trumpets sounded, not like ones in the normal world though. These ones had a sort of entrancing sound to them. They sounded somewhat like flutes yet with the volume and aura of importance.

“Announcing, her royal highness, The Princess Lúthien Elanessë, future Queen of Alatáriël”

A pair of large white (what looked like marble) doors opened with some assistance from 6 elves. There stood a beautiful woman.

Her white blonde hair trailed down her back, waving ever so slightly from the gentle breeze coming in from the open balcony at the head of the hall. It trailed along the floor mingling with the ivory coloured dress she wore. The ruby necklace she wore glittered as the lights of a thousand candles reflected off of each of the precious stones. She moved slowly, with poise, grace and elegance emanating from every pore in her beautiful pale white skin.

The hall was silent as she made her way down the aisle, bowing her head as she passed her loyal subjects. After all, every single man, woman and child on the small island of Alatáriël was present in that hall, one of the many reasons Lúthien wanted to run.

She approached her Fathers throne at the head of the hall and kneeled gracefully bowing her head as a mark of respect for him. He walked forward and raised her head, placing one of his gentle hands under her chin to do so.

“There is no need for you to pay me respect my child,” he whispered softly in her ear. “For tonight is a night of celebration for you.”

He then raised her to her feet, taking her hands and turning the tables so that he was now bent down on one knee and his head was bowed. He looked up at her, their ice blue eyes meeting for a fraction of a second before he turned to the hall at large. “All hail Princess Lúthien, may she live forever!” his voice echoed through the hall as his subjects repeated his words and raised their glasses.

He held out his hand and Lúthien placed hers on top, rather nervously. He led her to her throne, a place that normally brought comfort to her but at this point in time made her feel on edge.

Some entertainment preceded dinner that night in the form of dancing. There was a whole troop of ballet dancers prancing about the hall but none of them seemed to be able to keep Lúthiens attention for more than a few seconds as the weight of the decision ahead of her held her back from enjoying this marvellous show.

Her mind was one of concern from her Father. He’d received an injury in a recent war and it was slowly killing him from the inside. She knew that her decision tonight wouldn’t only affect her but also her Father. If she chose to go out into the human world her Father would have to continue being King until her return. Although he loved his duties Lúthien knew he would much rather retire as King and allow his daughter to take over the matters of state. Lúthien on the other hand felt she was not ready to take on such an important role yet.

The hall erupted with the clapping of thousands of hands and Lúthien snapped from her trance, joining in, half heartedly. It was time for the feast. Then the speeches.

Her stomach lurched as her Father stood, with a little bit of difficulty and held his hand out, preparing to lead her to the feast. Lúthiens Mother was not there. She hadn’t been around since Lúthien was a child having died in battle. She knew the Kingdom greatly wanted a Queen once more but for once Lúthien was going to place her own needs before that of her people. It would benefit them all after all.

They walked forward, their subjects bowing as they passed and entered the room that was just off of the Grand Hall. There were beautiful diamonds hanging in mid air. There was no room in this place. Instead it opened out onto the heavens and thankfully tonight there was only a gentle breeze blowing through the air. Something Lúthien appreciated very much.

When Lúthien was seated next to her Father at the head of the table the rest of the elves joined them. There was a note of happiness in the air as they all spoke merrily about the performances they had just witnessed. The food was served, no meat however, as the people of Alatáriël were vegan and worshipped animals rather than slaughter them.

Everyone began to eat, everyone that was except Lúthien. She played with the food on her plate, trying her hardest to eat something but the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach was preventing her from doing so. The King noticed this of course.

“What’s wrong my daughter?” he asked with a look of concern on his face. “Is the food not to your liking?”

“I…I…” she tried to tell her Father exactly what was wrong but the words wouldn’t form in her mouth. They seemed to have got stuck somewhere in her throat in the form of a large lump. “Everything is fine Father. I just had a little too much to eat at lunch today.” This of course was a blatant lie. She had been unable to eat at lunch either and instead had fed her food to her horse as she sat in the stables earlier that day pondering how she would reveal her plans to leave Alatáriël.

The feast ended and when the plates had been cleared away and the goblets refilled with a rich red wine the King stood and silence fell over the hall. “My Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen, tonight we are gathered here to celebrate my daughters coming of age to ascend to the throne. I have a few words to say before she reveals to us all her plans.

“For many years now I have governed over you with great pride. I have watched as a lot of you have grown older, I’ve even fought beside some of you in the great wars of our Kingdom. I have found many a friend amongst you and I am glad that I’ve had this time with you all. Tonight, my beautiful daughter Lúthien will tell you all whether I am to continue to serve you like I have for so many years or whether she will take over my position. Whichever decision she makes I ask that you support her. She has led you well in her duties as Princess and I know she will continue to do so no matter what her decision tonight entails.”

As he finished there was an eruption of applause and even some whistles as the King took his seat. Lúthien sighed. Now it was her turn. Now she had to disappoint her Father. Deny him his one wish. It took her a few moments to stand but when she did silence resonated through the hall once more.

Lúthien nodded at each side of the table in a mark of respect before she smiled and began speaking. “As my Father has already said, I have served my people well in the years that I have been doing my duties. I like my Father have fought with you in war, I have debated on matters of state and often won you certain rights you had not been permitted before.” Her eyes wandered to her Father at this point “My dearest Father, I know you grow tiresome of your position as King and I wish to grant you your freedom to go off and do as you please.” At this her Fathers eyes lit up and a tear fell from Lúthiens own eyes. “This however Father is something I cannot do at this time. I feel that I need to explore the world beyond our shores. I must understand what is out there and how things are run before I can properly govern our land. It is with this decision that I shall take my leave of this land in search of others. I hope you will all forgive me. I will return soon. Do not hate me for this.” And with that she fled from the hall, her white gown rippling behind her, tears streaming from her eyes.

The people in the hall sat dumbstruck at her sudden exit before a quiet rumble of whispers could be heard. That moment in time would be something that would be talked about for years to come.

~Chapter 2~

The Snake escapes

A lone dark figure made its way down a crowded London street. He was dressed in particularly strange attire, wearing a long black cloak which fluttered in the wind as he pushed his way through the crowd. He seemed eager to get to his destination as he shoved, in an almost violent way, anyone who got in his way and some of the people who passed him could have sworn he’d muttered something about ‘ruddy muggles’.

It wasn’t until he was standing outside a small dingy pub that appeared as though no-one but he could see it that he lowered his hood. Long black locks of flowing hair fell around his face, his dark eyes scanning the street as though in search of some hidden treasure. In one swift movement he had thrown open the door and entered the small room that was the Leaky Cauldrons bar.

Many heads turned as he stalked towards the bar. A few stared open mouthed whilst others tried to focus their attention on anything or anyone but the young man that had just entered the pub.

With no recognition of what was going on around him he walked straight to the bar, pulling up a stool, not bothering if the noise he made disturbed any of the other patrons.

Tom the barman eyed him with suspicion as he cleaned the same glass he’d been cleaning for the past two minutes.

The man looked up from the bar “Firewhisky!” With one word this man had the whole bar staring at him once more. It wasn’t that he had more or less ordered Tom to give him a drink or that his rough voice had scared them as it did to most people. The face of the matter was this man had a reputation.

“Do-do you think that’s wise Lazarus?” The voice came from the far away corner and when the other patrons thought about it that was probably the safest place in the bar. “Y-you know? After last time?”

“Keep your mouth shut Fletcher! And will you hurry up with that bloody Firewhisky!” he was sounding more and more angry by the second even although the other customers in the bar had a good reason for not wanting him to drink. Or at least drink in their company. The last time he had he was only 18 and had drank a little too much, so much so in fact that by the end of the night he had to be carried from the pub by 6 ministry officials and his little stunts (cursing many of the customers in the pub with various spells) earned him a three year span in Azkaban.

When he realised Tom was not going to serve him he rose from his seat. The bar man cowered, trying to hide his face and many of the other occupants of the small pub seemed to shrink back in fear of what he may do. “Are you so stupid as to think they still permit me a wand!” a laugh escaped his lips that almost sounded like a bark. With that he swiftly moved from the pub, making almost as dramatic an exit as his entrance was and although he wasn’t around to hear it many people within the Leaky Cauldron sighed with relief before the hearty banter resumed.

Out on the mean streets of London once more Lazarus lifted his hood once more, ignoring the strange stares he was receiving from numerous muggles as he once again shoved them out of his way.

As he passed by some streets he could hear the calls of market sellers and even the odd honk of a car horn on the busy road to his right. He ignored them all though, only focusing on one thing. He had to get to somewhere quiet.

It took him half an hour before his wish was granted. He scurried down a side Alley, out of view of the muggles passing by, a few of whom spared a glance for Lazarus and his strange behaviour. He reached the end of the Alley way and was glad to see it led out onto a small road, secluded from the prying eyes of the muggles by a large brick wall. He was in a dead end street but it didn’t bother him in the slightest. Quickly he lifted his right hand so it looked as though he was hailing a cab but he jumped back quite suddenly when the screeching of brakes reverberated off the walls of this very small space and a large purple bus skidded into view.

Lazarus looked around with caution before stepping onto the bus, ignoring the drone of the old bus conductor, taking a seat as far away from the front of the bus as normal.

“Where to sir?” came the gruff and shaky voice of the old bus conductor who by Lazarus’ reckoning was at least 90 if he was a day.

“12 Grimmauld Place” in a sweeping motion Lazarus had somehow manage to extract his money from his pocket and promptly placed it in the hand of the old man. His ticket was issued and then the ride began.

Fields, concrete paved streets, the ocean. These were just some of the things that passed by the windows as the Knight bus made it’s way all over the United Kingdom, skidding to a halt frequently to pick up new passengers or drop off unusually green tinged ones.

When finally it came to Lazarus’ stop he walked from the bus with poise, that was until he stepped off. The ground felt like it was moving and it took him a few minutes to compose himself. He turned slowly, a hint of a grimace on his face as his eyes fell upon the old decrepit shack that was his home and had been his home ever since his Mothers death.

The garden path was barely visible through the jungle of weeds that had slowly overtaken the whole garden over the past few years. The front door was anything but welcoming. The black paint was scratched and peeling and the large silver knocker in the form of a twisted serpent loomed out at visitors and almost dared them to knock or be bitten. The door handle was rusty and creaked when Lazarus turned it to enter the dark, dank entrance hall of the house.

A large portrait hung on the wall, a pair of curtains draped over it. Lazarus sidled past it, ensuring not to make too much noise for fear he’d wake the monster within the portrait. Silently he made his way upstairs, stepping over the third stair to avoid it creaking.

When he finally reached the first landing, having taken a few moments to climb the stairs he hurried into the first bedroom. Something about the house scared Lazarus. Whether it was the fact his Mothers portrait often shouted obscenities at him if he woke her, or whether it was the feeling of loneliness, he never knew. What he did know however was that he hated it here and the sooner he found a home of his home, the better.

Flopping onto the large bed with it’s moth eaten sheets, he let a sigh escape his lips. His eyelids suddenly felt very heavy and it didn’t take long for him to drift off into a restless sleep.

His dreams were ones of times he couldn’t remember. He’d spent most of his youth locked up in a special ward in St Mungo’s after accidentally setting his Mother favourite house elf on fire. She had promptly sent him off to St Mungo’s and removed him from the family tree.

Presently his dream was one filled with laughter, he and his two older brothers, Regulus and Sirius were playing Quidditch in the back garden whilst their Mother looked on from the door step. It was surprising to see a smile on her face. Lazarus had forgotten that his Mother even had the ability to smile.

This dream was soon replaced by one of another time, one that Lazarus recognised everything about but wished he didn’t. His Mother was screaming at the top of her lungs pointing to something in the distance and there was a poignant smell in the air that caused Lazarus to scrunch his nose up, earning him a slap around the face.

Next came the men in white suits. They somehow managed to restrain Lazarus and were taking him out of the house. His Mother stood by wiping away tears that he knew were false simply by the glint of satisfaction in her eyes.

Waking suddenly from his nightmares Lazarus stared around the room wide eyed. He was soaked with sweat and was shaking from head to toe. “I’ve got to get out of here” he muttered to himself as he stood shakily on the hard wooden floor. He headed for one of the other rooms and after rummaging through the shelves, emerged with a large sack filled with some of his Mothers old possessions.

He ran down the stairs, taking them two at a time, flew past the portrait of his Mother as she was wailing something about ‘filthy ingrates’ and yanked the door open almost ripping it from its hinges and slamming it behind him.

Not sparing a glance back at the house he walked slowly down the street now feeling like a huge burden had been lifted from his shoulders. He was free of that house and there was no way he was going back.

~Chapter 3~

Across the sea

Waves thrashing and wind howling, a small ship could just be made out on the dull horizon that was the sea of Alatáriël. Wrecked ships and even aeroplanes could be seen through the unusually clear yet choppy waters. It was a protection that had been placed on Alatáriël and its surrounding land, so that anyone from the outside world who came within viewing distance would suffer a dire fate.

The Bermuda triangle was home to more than just some strange circumstances. It was in actual fact a large fortress which, although its size would suggest otherwise, was in fact home to 7 tribes of elves and housed 5 fairly sized islands. Alatáriël was an island on it’s own, separated from the other 4 by a vast stretch of sea. The 7 tribes went to war with one another over many things but at that moment in time they were at peace.

Calls could be heard from the many men on board as they tried to steer the ship in the right direction. They adjusted the sails to catch the wind properly and with a sudden jerk the ship leapt forward continuing its rocky journey to the extreme borders of their land.

Below deck, everything was silent with the exception of the crashing of the waves on the side of the ship. It was dark and damp down here, the ship having very rarely been used and therefore slightly neglected. Flames flickered around the cabins creating eery shapes on the dark walls. In one corner of one of the cabins the dark outline of a woman could be seen. White blonde hair pulled back into a tight braid.

She looked as though she was asleep, or possibly even dead as nothing around her seemed to snap her from her trance. She sat staring into a mirror. Her hands were clasped in front of her as though they were bound although nothing held them together but her own concentration. Tears streamed from her ice blue eyes forming a line down her ghost like cheeks and falling onto her silky blue robes. She never once bothered to wipe them as she stared at the mirror.

The mirror was magnificent within itself. The pane of mirrored glass was held in it’s place by a beautifully carved gold frame. It stood upright on two huge clawed feet. It looked like it was new and possibly even something magical. There was a strange writing at the top of the frame, well strange to anyone who hadn’t grown up in Alatáriël.

‘Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi’ was carved deeply into the mirrors frame which in English means ‘I show not your face but your hearts desire’. For some this would mean it would show them with all the riches in the world, for others it would show a family they never knew but for those very few who knew how to use it properly it could be a very useful tool.

Lúthien was one of the few who knew how to use it an although what it was showing her was exactly what she wanted to see it still upset her. Her hearts deepest desire was for it to show her what was going on back where her Father was and what she saw was exactly that.

They had set sail three days ago now and still her Father was in the same state. He had neither left his chambers nor had he permitted anyone to enter. He lay on his silk bed sheets staining them with his fallen tears like Lúthien was doing to her beautiful dress.

Neither Lúthien or Valandil had eaten since her departure from Alatáriël, neither had they slept or uttered a word to any other living soul. It seemed that they both felt the same way about Lúthien leaving.

Lúthien felt she had betrayed her Father by leaving him, she felt guilty for not relieving him of his duties no matter how much she knew this was the right decision for everyone. She had thought of nothing else for months and in the end she knew her reasons for leaving outnumbered those she had for staying.

Valandil was pretty much the same although his guilt stemmed from the fact his daughter had felt she couldn’t tell him her plans to leave. He had pressed upon her since he received his injury just how relieved he would be when she took over the Kingdom. He knew now what a burden that must have placed on Lúthien. She loved her Kingdom and her Father above all else, disappointing him would be the last thing she’d want to do. Although he understood her reasons for going and in no way resented her actions he knew he would miss her terribly.

She had been his rock after his wife died. She had helped him with some matters of state which he just couldn’t seem to resolve on his own and he doubted he’d have been able to survive the dreadful pain he was in had he not needed to look after Lúthien. Or at least he thought he had to look after Lúthien. Now there was nothing left in this land for him to hang onto and right now he felt like giving up. He wouldn’t dare though. He swore to himself the day she was born he would live at least until he seen her coronation. This is what kept him strong through battles no matter how badly he was injured he thought of Lúthien and found a strange power to fight on.

The ship hit a harsh wave and shouts could be heard overhead. Lúthien finally broke her gaze away from the mirror and looked overhead to where she knew the men that had been sent with her were having a hard time trying to steer them to their destination.

Footsteps were heard rushing to the cabin door and then running down the steps. The door to her cabin burst open. “Your highness. We need you on deck. The borders coming and you are the only one that can open the gate for us.”

This was sadly true. Only a Royal could open the gates to allow people in or out of the land safely. This was one of the main reasons all those ships and planes had found their end in that place. They had crashed through the invisible gate and everything else from there was horrific.

Lúthien stepped slowly from her seat in front of the mirror, taking one last glance before she exited the cabin. Her footsteps were light and well placed as she tried to make sure she didn’t fall over on her way up the stairs. As she emerged through the small wooden door, bowing her head slightly to get through she noticed the sky was a cloudy grey colour, something she had never seen before as she had never drifted this far away from home.

The bright sun could just be seen through a tiny parting in the clouds and although only a few rays were spared they seemed to fall immediately on Lúthien as she moved towards the head of the ship. She now admired the wonderful craftsmanship of the boat. There were elegantly carved railings all showing the deities of Alatáriël.

It wasn’t long before she saw the gate that stood between her and her future. She took one deep breath before closing her eyes and calling upon her inner powers. As the gate grew closer the men began to panic, Lúthien had yet to say the ancient words which were only revealed to royalty and the wind had picked up behind them pushing them forward much faster than they felt comfortable with.

Suddenly the gate was only a mere 50 feet away. The men had ran to the back of the ship, preparing for the sudden crash that was inevitable if Lúthien didn’t speak soon.

“Ssec nir pru oyma irof ne po, sred ro beht foe tag!”

An unearthly voice rang out around them all and Lúthiens eyes were now open, a light shining from them that seemed so unnatural yet very comforting for those around her. Within seconds she returned to normal and just in time to watch as the ship passed through the gate.

The seas calmed and the sky grew bright, taking the eerie light from Lúthien. She turned to look at her crew as they stared around in wonderment. She took a deep breath. Knowing it would be her first of many in this world before returning to her quarters below deck and the mirror she had longed to see since the moment she’d left it.


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