A Tale of Time

Chapter 5: Song and Ale

"Lass," Balin says, walking over with the long contract in his hand. "It seems with all that's happened, you've forgotten to sign."

Gailien straightens in shock, recalling how she has completely forgotten after Bilbo's mishap. "Oh, sorry, Balin. Here, I'll sign it now." She takes the contract, placing her tankard by her feet as Balin holds out a quill already dipped in ink in his other hand. Gailien takes it with a small thanks, flipping through the page until she finds the line requiring her signature. She's never had to sign anything before, so she just writes her first name, dating it. Satisfied, Balin takes the contract back.

"Welcome to the company," he says, giving her a toothy smile.

Gailien picks her drink back up, tucks her feet under her legs on the chair as she cups that tankard in both of her hands. She begins to doubt whether the hobbit is actually going to come on this quest, but a small, very brief vision of him running towards them with the contract flashes through her mind and she smiles, hiding it behind her drink.

These brief visions are easy enough to come by, most often when she deeply desires to know something but the bigger visions, the ones that are often meaningful are the ones that require the most concentration (or the absolute least) for them to come. And often she does not know what she wants to see but once she does, their importance soon materialises on its own accord.

Thorin and Balin walk into the room. Her eyes trail after the King, watching as he stands near the fireplace, leaning against the hearth. His eyes are sullen with duty, a look that has not left him all night.

Thorin begins singing softly the Dwarven Song of Old Wealth, one all dwarves know.

"Far over the Misty Mountains cold,

To dungeons deep and caverns old

We must away, ere break of day,

To seek our pale enchanted gold."

The dwarves fall into the tune and Gailien begins to feel as though she belongs anywhere but this room, her legs urging her to leave but her heart is caught, listening intently to the words. Her eyes glisten, hearing the kinship between them and her jealousy rises, wanting nothing more than to feel that as well. But her jealousy is not at the people here with her, only at the lack of experiences in her life that others get to enjoy.

"The pines were roaring on the heights,

The wind was moaning in the night,

The fire was red, it flaming spread,

The trees like torches blazed with light."

Though she realises how sad the words are in truth and all ill feelings drop. They lost their home to fire and smoke, she lost hers because she did not want to deal with the judgements of others. How petty her problems seem to theirs.

The night comes to an end as the dwarves find spaces to sleep. Most use any seats they can lie down on, others taking to the floor. Gailien searches around, feeling a little intrusive at the thought of sleeping in the hobbits home when he surely wants nothing more than for us to all leave but sleeping here will prove the least of his worries. Most comfy spots have been taken so she joins Bofur on the floor in front of the fire, using her pack which she left in the front room as a pillow.

"The song was beautiful," she says to the dwarf, quietly as to not cause unrest to the others. Bofur smiles at the girl as he lies on his back.

"Aye, it is. Every dwarf knows the words," he says, smiling fondly at his own memories. "Do you think Bilbo is going to come?"