"We'll have to hunt sooner than I thought, then. Or visit an outpost to restock."

"Don't tend to carry provisions for two with you?"

"Nor provisions for a human either, it seems."

"I'm used to feeding myself," she says, amused, "And this land seems far more fertile than those I'm accustomed to."

"No great hardship, then."

"Not at all, especially not if I get to see you using that bow."

"That can be arranged."

"Excellent."

She smiles and gets more food out.

Beren eats with a smile.

She doesn't leave in the morning, spending the day sparring and traveling and hunting with Luthien - nor the day after - nor any day after that, as early spring rolls ever on to summer. She teaches Luthien much of war and raiding, cleverness and deceit. She expresses curiosity about Luthien's more fantastic abilities, helps her work through honing them into weapons - proposes sneaking around the border guards with a mischievous grin.

She seems to have a new story every morning, though she quickly ends up declaiming that many of these are in fact fictional. (They have a delightful ring of truth, though, even if it's not a truth of facts but of feelings.)

She never addresses Luthien by either of her names. She seems fond of epithets instead, often inventing new ones - but just as often abandoning them, as if searching for something. They're all flattering, many poetic or sweet - she shows a clear preference for night-related names, and Ellin or Elrien, star-song or star-crowned, seem her favorites. (She jokes about it being a pity that Elbereth, 'star queen,' is taken, and that none of the Sindarin words for might or power or beauty are as lovely as Luthien deserves.)

Summer solstice crests and rides by with Beren apparently entirely disinclined to move on, or even really question the dearth of other elves they've met.

She adores the spars, and the stories, and singing for Beren under the night sky. The nicknames also are endearing, and she can't help but laugh each time Beren uses one. Her parents would not approve, but they are not here.

Though she will have to return ere the beginning of autumn.

Beren doesn't want to stop being by Luthien's side.

Then they'll have to go back to Menegroth together.

Sounds alright by Beren.

She doesn't think she ever wants to stop being by Luthien's side, though she's - aware, that she won't be happy fenced off from the world for the rest of her life...

One challenge at a time.

Staying by Luthien first, of course. 

Indeed.

They still have a few days clear, but then they should start heading in.

She nods and spends those days much as she has the last months, though she's perhaps a bit more wistful - maybe more attentive to Luthien, though with how attentive she's already been it's at most a small difference.

And then it's time to pack up and go home.

Menegroth is gorgeous. The city's only entrance - the only above ground evidence it even exists - is a gate built into white cliffs rising above where the Esgalduin cuts through a wide, deep gorge, water roaring and frothing white. A single delicate bridge, so narrow most people approaching would need to walk single file, arcs over the chasm. The pillars are carved so cleverly they look like someone painted living beeches white.

Two guards stand where the stone cuts back for the gate, tucked into nooks invisible from the bridge. They welcome Luthien home - and express curiosity about her companion. 

She is Beren daughter of Barahir, and Luthien's guest.

She will need to abide by the laws of Doriath, but only King Thingol may gainsay his daughter; the guards step aside and open the carved gates. 

Here's hoping he doesn't do that.

"Try not to get any fights here," she murmurs after they pass the guards.

"I'll be on my best behavior. Promise," she murmurs back. 

Luthien steers them towards her rooms. With luck they'll be able to wash up and relax a bit before her father catches word and summons her.