Chapter 3: Beads and Braiding
Gailien sits numbly on the edge of her cot, staring at the same blade of grass that she has been all morning. Her hands shake slightly, even under their tight grip on the mattress. The healers have just left her once more, changing her bandage which she soaked through this morning after breaking the stitches they had given her. Which meant that she had to experience receiving them awake, accompanied by their scolding.
But it isn't her fault. What she hoped to be a peaceful sleep, ending another day until she can return to the company morphed into a horrifying night filled with nightmares so real that they felt like her visions so when she awoke, there was no way to tell if she had seen the possible future or just figments of her imagination. Her screamed had ripped through her throat, leaving it still burning even after two hours.
Seeing Kili yesterday had helped her but what she saw in her dreams ruined all of that. He was screaming at her, something she has never seen him do, never with so much hate. In her dream she was paralysed, standing there as he threatened her with a knife, accusing her of things so terrible she wonders how her mind even began to conjure them.
She saw Tauriel's dead body, lying mangled and torn in the snow, Kili leaning over her with heart-wrenching cries. Gailien tries to remember what Bilbo had told her – that they had only met once but sometimes that is all love needs.
A single tear passes through her closed eyes, sliding off her cheek and onto the top of her boot as she sits in the tent all alone. A small sob burst through her throat, smaller than the one she awoke in but no less mournful.
Thorin has ordered two Dwarven guards to stand outside her tents at all times, only allowing permitted visitors and the healers in. Not that she needs guards, but Thorin still felt uncomfortable having her surrounded by the Elves with none of his own kin around when he couldn't be there.
But at this moment, she is grateful for them. Slowly Gailien slides off the edge of the cot, barely feet being tickled by the short grass. She saunters over to the front of the tent, opening the flap. The two Dwarven guards nod in greeting.
"Mornin' my Lady," one greets.
"Good morning," she greets tiredly, wiping her cheek with her sleeve. "I don't want to make any hassle, but, I would prefer not to see anybody today. Except for the healers and Thorin if he comes down."
"And the Prince?" the other Dwarf questions. Gailien bites her cheek. It is Kili who she can't bear to see right now but she didn't want to have him singled out.
"If he does, please apologise on my behalf or have word sent if possible so he doesn't waste a trip." The Dwarves nod, leaning against their battle-axes. Gailien quietly moves back into her tent, already desperate to lie back down as her chest aches.
She knows that her dreams are just that – a dream and she couldn't imagine that the young Dwarf would ever aim such words at her but guilt wracks her body as the images play over in her head until she remembers them better than her own face. She will speak to him, once she knows that she won't vomit at the sight of him.
It is not until lunch that she hears any sign of someone at the entrance to her tent. Her empty bowl sits on the chair still pulled to her bedside that she stares at as she tries to block out the sound of the young Dwarf prince arguing with her guards just meters away.
She needs Fili. She needs his advice, his trust and comfort. But he still has not come down, and she doubts that he will. But that does not deter her from wanting to speak with him, she just has to wait until she is healthy enough to venture up the mountain and live without the Elves checking on her every few hours.
Kili eventually leaves, allowing her a bit more peace of mind and letting her lip finally receive blood flow as her teeth have been pinching it tightly. A small blessing comes her way though: a short vision of Thorin in her tent, smiling softly. It is one of the first visions like this that she has had since before the dragon was released – uncalled upon and simple. The idea of seeing something so important again terrifies her and with her nightmare being so alike them, she is grateful that her gift has almost disappeared.
A few more hours pass in solitude, her mind taken away by thoughts of the future. She doesn't even hear him come in.
"Gailien," Thorin greets, walking – well, limping – over to her with his staff crutch. "Are you doing alright? Kili said the guards wouldn't let him in."
Gailien looks up, a barely-there smile on her lips. "I'm fine," she mutters. "Just a rough night and I don't think I would have been a hospitable host."
"A host?" Thorin questions with a small smirk, sitting down next to her. "And is this tent your humble abode?"
"Humble?" she retorts back, playing on his humour. "Have you not used your eyes? It is magnificent, nothing humble about it."
"Well, if you think this is magnificent, then you will fall to your knees when you see the room I have prepared for you when you return."
"My room? To myself?"
Thorin nods, humming in affirmation. His fingers trail down her arm, tracing swirls. "We have been working hard to restore the rooms and common areas first. Everybody either has their own rooms or is sharing. Dain's men are staying in their camps."
She smiles to her lap. She hasn't had her own room in many months, especially not one that is specifically for her. "That will be nice," she says, resting her hand over his which still traces along her arm. "But I'm going to miss being surrounded by all of you."
"You may always join me in mine," he says, a soft tease in his voice as his free hand brushes away a loose strand of her hair. Gailien's smile widens with a small blush and laugh passing through her mouth. "Which also reminds me..." he digs into his coat pocket, pulling out something small and metal.
Gailien's shoulders sag in content, a large smile on her lips as she tilts her head to rest on his shoulders. "Thank you," she says, kissing his shoulder. She reaches out to take the small bead but Thorin pulls his hand away.
"Let me," he whispers into her ear. "That is how it is supposed to be done."
Thorin guides her in front of him, his leg resting on either side of hers which dangle over the edge, her back towards him, both wary of the other's injuries. Gailien laughs softly as she feels the comb beginning to brush through her hair. "I see you came prepared," she muses. The repetitive motion is soothing, metaphorically guiding the troubles out of her mind with each stroke.
"I had to make up for my pathetic attempt last time," he retorts. "I cannot believe I even let you put it in yourself."
"I think you forget that I wouldn't have known any different. Though it wasn't exactly romantic at the time, the thought was still there." Her head pulls down to the side slightly as he combs through her knotted ends (she should have just cut them.) "I won't lie, Thorin. I know you weren't yourself, but it really hurt when you threw the other one away."
"And for that-" he stops combing, leaning down to bury his head in the side of her neck, "-I can never apologise enough. I tried to find it – we searched for hours but the damn thing disappeared." His arms wind around her waist, his chest resting on her left shoulder as he looks over it. In front of her, his palm opens, showing her the bead again. "But this one is made of a much finer metal, and better craftsmanship."
Gailien picks the bead up as Thorin goes back to her hair. Though her original one was beautiful in its own way, there is no denying that this one holds more a traditional Dwarven style of beauty. Almost the entire thing has a pattern carved into it, a familiar rune on the front. She grins, running her thumb along Thorin's name which is ingrained in Khazdul. And it shines bright, newly polished and without a single scratch.
"I have talked with Fili," he says, breaking their comfortable silence as he begins to braid a small strand from over her right ear. Gailien's ears perk up, turning her head slightly. "He is drowning himself in work. He was a mess after everything happened – I was a mess."
"I just want him to talk to me," she says quietly.
"I know," he says, kissing her forehead between his braiding. "But guilt forces thoughts into people's minds. He had thought he killed you."
Gailien silently agrees with his statement about guilt and the mind. "You don't blame him, do you?"
Thorin shifts in his seat behind her, pressing his thighs against hers. Her heart begins to pound harder, fearing that Fili might also have to deal with the blame of others, and not just his own. "No," he breathes out finally, ending her worries. "I admit that for the first day when we were not certain if you would survive that I struggled not pointing fingers. But once I saw him looking at you when we returned, to know that it was never something that could be blamed on anybody else except Bolg."
Gailien clasps her hand over his knee. "Thank you."
"But I have to ask... did you know it was going to happen?" Gailien's mouth runs dry, lips sealing together as he slows his movements to focus on her non-existent answer. Silently he reaches down into her resting hand, taking the bead from it.
"Not like that," she eventually manages to say. "I really didn't know what was going to happen, but I knew that if it did, that it would not be because I was staying behind like a coward. If I wasn't there, then Fili would not still be here, so I do not regret my choices for a second." But maybe Tauriel would be, but there is still no regret for her choice to join them, only her choices after.
"If you weren't there, I fear I would not be here either. Kili informed me with what happened before he came and killed Azog. But I still wish this had not happened."
"Me either."
Unlike her single braid that she used to wear, Thorin has pulled two small braids from each side of her head together, clasped into one with the bead in the middle. Now finished, Thorin winds his hands back around her waist, resting them clasped together around her stomach.
"What has been happening in the last week?" she asks, leaning her head against his shoulder. "Have there been more talks of war or is there going to be peace?"
"There is going to be peace, amrâlimê. The people of Lake-town are making their new lives in Dale and they have been given what I promised." Gailien smiles in content, rubbing his knee. "And the gems of Lasgalen have been returned to Thranduil. We shall return to the days of old where trade was rich and the markets full."
"And the Arkenstone? Has that been returned?"
"It has," Thorin says slowly. "But Balin and I have agreed that it should no longer be the King's jewel. We are going to return it back deep into the mountain, where it shall not tempt future generations of Durin."
"That... I'm proud of you, Thorin. I think that is the best decision that can be made. I can't believe it's all over. I never imagined what an adventure this would all be when I first arrived in Bag End."
"And adventure is one word," he laughs. The pair shift back onto the bed, with Thorin leaning up again the metal frame, Gailien lying on his chest between his legs as her hands lay over his on her stomach. "I couldn't believe that Gandalf had even thought about bringing an Elf into the company."
"Harsh, but not unexpected," she taunts. "I didn't know what to think of you. I loved your voice but then I started listening to what you were actually saying and..." She scrunches her nose, tipping her head from side to side.
Thorin laughs with faux offence. "Really? Well, now I'm a little offended. When did your opinion change of me?"
"I never didn't like you," she laughs, tracing her fingers along his bare arms where the sleeves have been pushed up. "I suppose it changed slowly. I admired you from the night that Balin told us the story of Azog but then you didn't listen to me with the trolls-"
"My first mistake," he grunts. Gailien squeezes his arm, resting her cheek on his chest and looking up at him.
"It was the small things you did as you learnt to trust me," she continues. "When you came out after me on the Misty Mountains, covering my eyes at Rivendell, truly listening to me. Honestly, you should give credit to Kili."
"Kili?"
"Hmm," she hums. "I never consciously thought about it until he asked me whether I found you attractive or not."
"He asked you that?" he gapes, mouth hanging partially open.
"Just after Rivendell," she giggles childishly. "I didn't answer him, but he took that as a yes."
Thorin closes his mouth, tilting his head in thought. "I have a faint memory of something like that. Is that when he called out that he thought you were pretty?"
"Yes," she laughs, nodding but the topic of Kili does dimmer her mood.
"I was wondering what on earth that conversation was about," he muses. "I'll admit, I had Dwalin buggering me about you for a while."
"Dwalin?"
"I know," he intones. "Damn Dwarf knows me too well. He kept asking me questions about you and he can always call me out on a lie."
"I think he was trying to act as the middle-man. He asked me twice what I thought about you."
They laugh, falling into a comfortable silence. Though her back wound does hurt, she keeps the pressure off it, leaning more onto her other side, supported by his arms. It seems all she does is sleep at the moment and she almost does go back into it, but Thorin's sniffling wakes her mind back up. Glancing upwards, she sees Thorin looking over to the side of the almost empty tent, his eyes flickering around slightly which are filled with tears.
"What's wrong?" she coos, bringing a gentle hand to his face, guiding his eyes back to her. Thorin gives her a sad smile, shaking his head.
"I was just so close to losing you," he mumbles. "I didn't think I'd ever be able to do this with you."
"Well it's real, so don't be upset." She pauses for a moment, looking at his face. "Are you going to grow your beard out now?"
"I am," he answers, drawing one her hands up to it. Gailien does as she usually does, running her fingers through it. "I want you to be able to braid it."
"Does it mean something specific? Braiding another's. I know it's important but I'm not sure I understand what it really means to braid someone else's hair."
"On beards? Yes." His hand drifts behind her head, wringing his fingers around hers. "If you had a beard that is where this bead would have gone. It is where we wear the ones that show our belonging to another. To show anybody who dares comes close that you are protected by me."
Gailien nods slowly, taking the information in. "I'm sorry if I upset you before, when Kili was braiding my hair."
"No," he hushes softly. "I'm not upset at all. It was his way of showing you and others that he considers you to be a part of his family."
"I'm not sure if it is sweet or a little worrying that you all do these things without letting me know exactly what they mean. I'm trying to remember everything but I feel like every single touch and ornament means something completely different."
"I will endeavour to make sure you do know," he laughs softly. "But we would never do anything that we know you wouldn't be happy for."
P.S I'm sorry if I'm not responding to comments but I can promise you that I read all of them. I'm just that type of person that makes a note to come back and reply but never does.