Fallen Star

Fallen Star Chapter 16

The riddles within are from "The Hobbit."

(The song within this chapter is called "Blow Northerne Wynd," and if you go to a site called Luminarium, and scroll down a bit, you'll see a link that says Search Luminarium. Type in the name of the song, and the first result is correct. Once you get to that page, scroll down past the translation, and you'll find a little sample music file, so you can listen to it. It's a bit of trouble to get to it, I know—but the song is just BEAUTIFUL, and it can't be found anywhere else that is easier.)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

"Far over the misty mountains cold
To dungeons deep and caverns old
We must away ere break of day
To seek the pale enchanted gold."

-The Hobbit

Loki sat back in the white cushioned seat and glanced out the oval-shaped window to his right. He could see nothing—just blackness, and the occasional flash of a light out on the wing. A dull hum surrounded his hearing—the deep vibration of the machine, very quiet, ran through him from his heels to his chest. He set his elbow on the armrest, propped his chin in his hand and stared out into the dark.

Jane sat across from him in the belly of this metal beast, on the other side of a small, stationary table. His gaze flickered across her form—he was careful not to let it linger. He didn't want her to catch him looking at her.

She was dressed warmly in her boots, blue jeans, sweater and gray jacket. Her hair hung down around her shoulders, as it looked prettiest. Strands of it caught the light of the soft overhead lamp, which turned them red or gold. She rested back in her chair, her head tilted toward the window, her dark eyes distant. A line stood between her eyebrows. Loki made himself turn away, back to the window. Though her eyes were dim with weariness and dull worry marked her brow, it made him ache to realize how beautiful she was.

She let out a low moan and shifted in her chair. Loki tried not to attend to her, but he had no choice—his gaze was pulled back to her face without his consent.

"I can never sleep on a plane," she murmured, her black lashes closing as her brow tightened. "I don't suppose there's any magic that can help with that?"

"I'm have little experience with planes," Loki answered quietly, locking his gaze upon the window and refusing to move it.

"I wish I'd thought to bring a book," she sighed, wrapping her arms around herself. "Then you could read to me. It helped before."

Loki clenched his jaw and closed his eyes, just for an instant, as piercing pain traveled down his throat. He didn't answer her, and he didn't ask if she was cold, or if he could do anything for her. He felt her open her eyes and study him—felt her concern roll out from her like a wave onto the beach. But he would not move. And for the rest of the flight, they were silent.

LLLLLL

Jane let out a shivering huff and tossed her bag down on her narrow bed in the closet-like, dark room. The springs of the mattress squeaked in protest. She unzipped her jacket, moved to take it off, then thought better of it as the cold invaded her chest.

"I'm surprised I can't see my breath in here," she muttered, hurrying over to the thermostat by the door. She made a face. It was pinned at eighty degrees already. Clearly, it was not working.

By the light of a full, crisp moon, Stark's plane had touched down at a remote airstrip outside of Jasper. Happy, Stark's man, had trudged down the ladder with them, carrying Jane's bag as he escorted her and Fenris across the icy tarmac to the rented rooms near the control tower. The wind had sliced right through Jane's jacket and jeans, and they all had to duck their heads against the frigid gusts as they hurried along—though Fenris seemed less bothered by it than the other two.