A Tale of Time

Chapter 20: The Last Stand

"I believe she is coming in two months' time," Fili says.

"I would love to have another female friend. Men have no sense of hygiene." Her eyes fall half closed, legs beginning to drag along the path, but she rights herself every single time. Fili hates the pretend – the pretend that she will be around. Kili does the same thing. But he knows this isn't the time to speak up about his own opinions.

"We bath all the time," Kili defends.

"Because I yell at you if you don't."

"You also yell at me for taking your food."

"Are you trying to argue in defence of stealing other people's supplies."

"You split all of our milk!"

"First of all, that was like, three years ago. Secondly-" Her words are cut off by a gruntled cry as her legs buckle underneath her. The grip on their shoulders slackens, forcing them to grab her wrists.

"Gailien!? Gailien?" Fili bends forward, trying to both hold her up and speak to her face which is dropped low with her short hair curtaining over the sides. "We're nearly there, lass. You have to keep your head up."

They keep pulling her along, even though her feet are dragging along the ground, not wanting to waste the time to readjust her another way. Incoherent moans pass her lips as she tries to search for the ground with her feet. What is the point of trying? She is either going to die now or soon. Thorin. Thorin is her point. Her reason to fight.

"Thorin," she murmurs.

"Yes," Kili breathes out. "Thorin is there. And he's waiting for you." Some part in Kili hopes that if she reaches Thorin, then somehow the fading will stop. He wants to believe that it is her own subconscious will that has caused her demise and being back in Erebor will reverse the effects. He just wishes that he and Fili would have been enough for her instead.

The name gives her strength. Strength to find her footing even if it fails her every couple of steps. Fili glances over his shoulder, just praying that somebody would ride past them with something faster than their legs. A cart, a goat. But any interested in trading have already retired home for the night, the sun now half-covered by the horizon.

It takes a painstaking amount of walking and time, but soon they reach the Erebor gates. It is guarded by around ten Dwarves, the large iron doors closed for the night but during the day they would be open, inviting all those who wish to visit Erebor in.

Kili spies one particular Dwarf who has been granted the position of head of the guard. "Dwalin! Call for the King!" Dwalin looks up, his mouth opening slightly as he recognises the princes and Gailien almost running towards the gate. "The King, Dwalin!"

He wants to save her. Kili's desperate call for Thorin is with the hopes that his uncle can save Gailien from the fate that has her in its grip, trying to tear her away from him. Dwalin breaks from his trance, turning and sprinting back towards the doors. "Keep them open," he commands, leaving the path clear for the brothers. His instinct is to run for a healer but Kili specifically asked for his uncle so that is where he goes.

Gailien's eyes trail the floor underneath her, noting how it turns from gravel to smooth stone. She can hear people around her, voices not belonging to anybody she recognises but being in Erebor is comforting all the same. Then she passes over a threshold and into the mountain. She looks up, her breath leaving her as she takes in the fully restored front entrance. The high pillars are polished and taller than she recalls them to be.

Dwarves wander about, pausing as they watch the two princes enter the palace.

"It's beautiful," she chokes out, her mouth hanging open, still unable to take everything in. The back-door slams open, the sound echoing off the large cavern space.