Chapter 7:
"You seem chirpier than you have been for a while," Dwalin notes. It is the middle of the day, the pair eating lunch together in one of the common room chambers, a few other Dwarves lingering around. Thorin, Kili, and Fili are all in a council with Thranduil and Bard, finalising a new treaty between the three of them.
Gailien nods with a small smile. "Yes," she agrees. "Kili and Fili are truly wonderful. This world doesn't deserve them. I must thank their mother one day. Dis I believe her name is."
Dwalin smiles fondly. "Dis is a remarkable woman, much like Thorin but motherly. She will likely be quite stiff meeting you for the first time, but it won't take long for her to like you."
"I'm glad you think she will," Gailien muses. "I think not being like by Thorin's sister and the boy's mother would be a little hard, but I won't be insulted if she doesn't. I am still an Elf after all."
"And Elf that has helped bring her boys home."
"Actually, on the topic of homes, what is our dear Bilbo up to?"
"Said something about Gandalf escorting him home. I think he's leaving tomorrow," Dwalin says, resting back against the spine of his chair. "Never thought I'd say this, but I'm going to miss our burglar."
"Me too," she hums with a tiny smile. "I know you lot will be terrible at it, but I'll write him letters. Maybe a few of us could visit him some time as well."
"I reckon that if Balin is feeling up to it, he would join you. Kili as well but Fili will likely be helping Thorin and learning how to be king. He won't get much time away from Erebor."
Gailien quietens for a moment, just lost in thought. "Things are already changing," she notes softly. "I'm sure they'll be good – not being chased by Orcs." She laughs to herself, fiddling with a loose thread on her blouse. "But I'm going to miss it just being the company. Our little songs and stories around a fire under the stars."
"I miss when you used to be quiet," Dwalin sighs in reminiscence. "That was my favourite time of the entire quest." Gailien scoffs, pushing his shoulder roughly. Dwalin laughs, tilting in his seat. "But I'll miss it too lass. Except for Mirkwood."
"I don't blame you."
Xx
"I need your help," Gailien declares as soon as Thorin leaves the council chambers. She waves at the brothers as they walk out. Thorin frowns, brushing a strand of her from her face.
"Is everything alright?"
"Perfectly fine if you wish for me to not be wearing anything to the feast tonight," she states hastily. "I have no idea what I should be wearing."
"Whatever you wish to wear," Thorin answers. "Though I must say that I would prefer you in some sort of clothing in front of other people." Gailien rolls her eyes at both remarks. He really isn't being helpful.
"I haven't been to anything of this scale in four hundred years, Thorin. Let alone a Dwarvish one. Should I wear something to fit in, something that stands out? Should I be wearing pants or a dress?" Her head tilts side to side, weighing each option in her head. "Is there going to be dancing? Because that will change what shoes I need to wear. And if I need to wear a certain pair of shoes than that might change what I can wear."
Thorin's mind swirls as she rambles on, not having any previous idea that such a frivolous thing would get her mind going so much. "You didn't worry this much back in Lake-town."
"Because the only thing provided to me was a child's dress," she counters. "Now I have a closet full of different things and I don't know what is appropriate. So, will you please help me?"
"You are lucky I have nothing for the rest of the day," he teases. Gailien grins, gripping his hand tightly and pulls him back through the hallways to her chambers. Though back in Mirkwood she did have a large selection of clothes, but she only wore a few options that she knew suited her well enough. But anything other than her normal blouse and trousers is out of her comfort zone and in the unfamiliar territory, she doesn't want to cause words spread around because of something a silly as clothes.
Thorin sits on the single chair that is in her room, bringing it over in front of the wardrobe and changing screen.
"So, should I wear a dress?" she asks, opening the doors.
"If you are comfortable wearing one," Thorin answers. Gailien drops her hands from the doors, spinning on her heels.
"Thorin," she drags out. "Should I wear a dress, or would I be expected to wear pants?"
Thorin smiles, tipping his head to the side. "A dress would be lovely."
"Thank you," she huffs playfully, turning back around to her closet. She pushes the shirts and pants away, leaving the collection of dresses spread out. "Is there usually dancing?"
"Sometimes, but it is mostly mingling." Gailien nods in thought. It would probably be best not to dance, considering both her own injuries and the fact that Thorin and Fili are still injured leaving her only other dancing partner as Kili. And even then, she would likely be to conscious of embarrassing him in front of everybody now that he has an image to uphold.
She pulls out two dresses, one blue and one red. "Colour?"
Thorin sighs, resting his elbows on his knees. "Blue," he answers. Gailien looks down at the blue one. It is a very similar colour to both the dress she wore to the banquet at Lake-town, and the colour of the shirt she used to wear. She has a feeling that he chose that colour for a reason. "Deciding to be helpful now?" she taunts, placing the red one back in the closet.
"I can always find something else to do," he muses, placing his hands on the arm rests and beginning to push himself back up.
"No," she whines, marching forward. "Stay." Thorin laughs, settling back into the seat. Gailien leans down, planting a kiss on his cheek. "I know it seems trivial but... I just want to make sure I make a good impression. You're a king and I don't want to have people judge you because I didn't look right."
"It is not trivial if you care about it," he says softly. "But you do not need to worry about their opinions, they are not the ones who matter."
"I suppose you're right," she shrugs. "But I haven't had the luxury of fussing over such a little thing in such a long time that it is honestly rather exciting."
Gailien goes over to the changing screen, pulling the blue dress on. It fits almost perfectly par it being a little long on the sleeves. She comes back out, twirling around. "Yes? No?" Thorin stays silent, staring at her. "Thank you," she says with faux sincerity. "You are being most helpful."
"I had that dress made specifically for you," he eventually says, leaning back into his chair. "Everything else was brought from the Elves and anything we could find. It cost a fortune to have it made so quickly and I wasn't even sure if you would like it, but I saw the fabric and I just had to see it on you again."
Gailien blushes madly, dropping her chin to her chest. "Well you shall be seeing me in it tonight as well," she chirps. "That was easier than I thought. I was expecting to have to at least try on four."
Thorin smiles in satisfaction, standing back up and starts to saunter over to her, leaving his staff by the chair. He limps heavily but the smile remains as he comes to stand in front of her. Gailien's smile stays but it becomes smaller as she focuses more on him. Thorin stands silently, raising a hand, tracing over her cheekbone then down under her lips. His other hand moves around her head, searching through her hair until he finds the braid. He pulls it over her shoulder, rubbing his thumb over the design as he reads his name.
"I feel like this is supposed to be a two-way thing," she mutters, glancing down at the bead. "Like an exchange, but I haven't given you anything yet."
"How good are you at metal welding?" he teases quietly. Gailien snorts, pulling her lips back into a smirk. "As I thought. If you would like, you could have one designed and I shall have someone else make it."
"I don't want you to organise your own gift," she counters. "If you can call it a gift. I will think of something."
Xx
Though she had thought they would be eating first, the Dwarves, Elves and Men all congregate in the banquet hall, mingling and drinking to the new peace, and honouring those who died fighting the Orcs.
Gailien stands off to the side with Bilbo, sipping on her wine goblet. The Durin's boys are out in the middle somewhere, greeting guests and doing as their duty as hosts calls them to do.
"I hear you are leaving tomorrow," she says to Bilbo. "I wish you all the best in your travels back."
"Thank you," he smiles, nodding in thanks. "Hopefully it will be less adventurous. I think I need a small break."
Gailien laughs, resting an arm around her stomach to rest her other elbow on. "I know how you feel. I made Gandalf promise not to visit me with a proposition for at least another twenty years."
"I might ask him to do the same. But I would love to go back to Rivendell."
"Rivendell really took to you, didn't it? I understand how you feel, it took me a while to convince myself to leave. I cannot speak on behalf of Elrond, but I know that you would be welcome anytime there. Just as you are welcome to Erebor."
"I heard that you decided to stay."
"I have. I think that leaving them behind would be a hard task." As she takes another sip, she smiles into the goblet, spying the boys over the edge as they talk to some of Dain's Dwarves. Shocking, she spots a familiar Elf wandering through the crowds. "Excuse me," she mutters to Bilbo, leaving her goblet on a table as she chases after the Elf.
She calls out his name and the blonde prince hears it well, even through the loud chatter of the crowd. "Gailien," he greets.
"I didn't expect to see you here," she says. "I know you are still not fond of Dwarves."
"I came here to find you actually."
"Oh?"
"I know I already offered it to you, but I will be leaving first thing tomorrow morning and wanted to ask once more if you would like to accompany me."
Gailien smiles sadly. She wishes she never lost the friendship that she did when she left all those years ago. "Again, thank you. But I have decided to stay in Erebor. But I'm sure Thorin would be fine with offering you a place to stay if you ever wish to visit."
Legolas looks around, almost scowling at the thought of coming back here but she doesn't comment. "And you are fine watching them all grow old while you never age a day?" he asks suddenly. Gailien frowns, taking a small step back at the change of his tone. "You are willing to love a mortal whose life may end hundreds of years before your own?"
"I don't see why that is any of your business," she rebuttals. "And I have already told you that I have chosen a mortal life. Who knows – I may be the first to die."
Legolas' face remains stiff, just as her posture does. "I hope to see you again one day." With that, he turns around and strides out of the banquet hall. Gailien watches him with a slight glare but more so lost to what to think.
Then a hand grips her upper arm. In front of her, the world changes as she enters what seems to be a vision. But it is quicker, lasting only seconds. It is Thorin's tight grip on her arms, shaking her as he yells to her face, demanding to know the reason for something that she is not quite sure off.
As quickly as it comes, the vision goes and Gailien is brought back into the room, the hand still on her arm. "Sorry," she mumbles, barely even being heard over everything else. She blinks, turning around to see Kili smiling, oblivious. It wasn't a vision that she saw, her gut is telling her that, but nightmares cannot plague the awake.
"The food is going to be served," he says, gesturing over his shoulder with his head. Gailien smiles shortly, letting him guide her out of the main banquet hall and into the side one which the company, Dain and his high lords are to eat. The rest of the guests are served with large platters, allowed to help themselves while still mingling and drinking.
It is already strange being the only female in the new room, let alone the only non-Dwarf. Kili pulls out her chair, allowing her to sit on Thorin's left and next to Bilbo. A new hand rests on her knee and her eyes drift over to Thorin.
He gives her a look, asking her if she is alright. Nodding, Gailien plants a smile on her face, straightening her back. But as Thorin also leans back up, his hand leaving her, another quick, false vision takes her mind. This time, it is a flash of her falling off the battlement, the company's faces looking over the edge as she falls.
Why is she seeing this? The battlement does not even exist anymore. A new fear settles in her body, realising that her nightmares are now plaguing her while she is awake, taking hold of her gift and twisting it.
A plate is placed in front of her, people talking all around and she hopes that nobody addresses her as she sits quietly, nibbling at her food with no mind to the people around her. How is she supposed to live like this?
She tries to focus on what is happening around her, finding Fili and Kili's sudden table manners humorous. Dain is at the other end of the table, the two leaders at the heads but they still talk loudly to one another, seemingly in good moods as the laugh, fists banging on the tables.
Tankards are knocked together, sending foam and droplets of ale over the edge and onto the table and floors. They cheer to Bofur and other fallen warriors, reminiscing of other past battles.
Her eyes are unfocused, the reality around her becoming a blurry line between what is real and what her mind wants her to see. Thorin's loud voice booms deep through her head and she flinches, only having heard that sound while he was sick. It is like she is overly aware of everything going on around her, but yet she still cannot comprehend or physically respond, the edges of her vision blackening.
With laboured breathing, she rests her head in her palms, elbows driving into the table. There is no distinction to her in what is actually happening, and what her mind is creating. Words of cheer turn to words of poison. With tightly shut eyes, all she can see in her head is the entire room looking at her, through insults and jeers, forcing her to drop her hands and open her eyes.
Thorin watches Gailien, sliding his hand across the table to take hers. As soon as his finger touches her skin, her hand is snatched away and into her lap. His own retreats, feeling a little embarrassed at the obvious rejection in front of everybody. But he knows that he has not done anything wrong and that it must be something else going on.
"Gailien?" he calls out softly, leaning towards her to be heard. "Are you ok?" Gailien sucks on her teeth, shaking her head hastily. No, she's not alright. Thorin's shoulders tense as he leans closer. "Why don't you go lay down for a while," he suggests. "I can have someone escort you back to your room if you would like."
But Gailien shakes her head. This is the worst timing to feel like this; in front of everyone. She doesn't want to draw attention to herself, but she also knows that her legs could not keep her up if she tried to stand. Her best choice is to wait to see if passes.
Thorin leans over to the other side of the table. Though she had refused, Thorin believes it best for her to leave. "Kili, would you escort Gailien back to her room?" He could not leave yet as the host, but he plans on excusing himself as soon as he can.
Kili glances over to Gailien, taking note of her condition. She is staring at the table, pale and clammy, seeming to breathe unevenly. He nods, pushing out of his chair and walking around the head of the table. He rests his hands on either of her arms as he stands to the side of the chair. "Come on," he guides. But Gailien shakes her head again, sinking deep into the chair. Kili frowns, looking to his uncle.
"Gailien," Thorin warns delicately. "You need to go with Kili. I will be with you soon." Once more, Gailien shakes her head, gripping the arm rests. Thorin glances back up to Kili who is waiting silently for a resolution. "Take her," he orders.
Kili's hands tighten around her arms once more, trying to gently pull her up. Gailien rounds off her shoulders, pushing his hands away. She cannot differentiate the grip of help from the grip of fury that has been plaguing her. "Don't touch me," she whispers, shrinking into the chair.
"It's me," Kili tries. "I'm just going to take you to your room."
"I said, don't touch me."
Kili's lets go of her immediately, drawing his hands back to his sides with another helpless look at Thorin. Gailien's own hands raise hovering over her face slightly as she tries to figure herself out. She opens her mouth to mumble an apology, but those words stick to the side of her throat. But she does agree with Thorin now; she needs to leave.
She tries desperately to separate the two worlds happening in her mind. To focus on the kinder one with soft touches and concerned eyes. But it keeps disappearing, replaced with menacing scowls and malicious laughs surrounding her.
Squeezing her toes, she becomes confident that she can still feel them. Her chair legs grind against the stone ground, almost knocking the poor young prince as she pushes out.
"Gailien," Fili calls out to her cautiously. "Let Kili take you. Whatever is happening, isn't real."
"You're not well," Kili adds, stepping close but not touching her. Gailien's arms wrap around herself, standing in the one spot. Thorin grabs his staff, also standing.
"I will take her," he decides, knowing that this is more important than being a respectful host to his cousin.
"Bilbo," she whispers. Bilbo has been sitting there silently, watching the exchange unfold, a little frazzled. "I want Bilbo to take me."
Thorin's jaw clenches as he tries to keep the situation under control in front of the rest of the company and guests – who are either slightly drunk or not taking much notice yet. He glances at the Hobbit who is still sitting, waiting for some sort of instruction. "I-I don't mind," he offers.
Thorin gestures to Bilbo with his head silently and the Hobbit stands up, tucking his chair in politely. Honestly, he is more than happy to leave the festivities. Unlike Kili, he doesn't try and touch her, his hands in loose fists by his side. Giving her a tight smile, Gailien follows him out of the dining chambers.