Chapter 9: Until Sunrise
As they ride, the rain begins to slow until it reaches a complete stop. The sun is able to poke back through the clouds, cloaking them in beautiful golden rays of light every now and then. Gailien smiles in content, pleased that she is once again, able to enjoy the scenery around her and also able to hear more than shouting voices trying to be heard over the rain.
By the time of the afternoon, the clouds have all but disappeared. Gailien shifts in her saddle from the discomfort of sitting all day. Maybe a cleaner ride will not make her ache as so, but the rain turned the ground into sludge and the pony jostled around much more than normal.
They ride up a small incline and Thorin turns his pony around.
"We'll camp here for the night," he declares. "Fili, Kili, look after the ponies. Make sure you stay with them."
Gailien beams, sliding out of the saddle gratefully. "Yallume!" she cries, stretching out her body. The pony, Clove, bites her side for nothing else but for the sake of biting. Huffing, she hands the pony over to Fili, wishing him luck with the animal's attitude.
Gandalf walks up further into the ruins of an old farm. The foundations are barely standing, and it may as well not have a roof at all as the wood has rotted away, leaving large gaps in the shelter. Gailien supposed that King does not intend to use it for a shelter anyways.
"A farmer and his family used to live here," the wizard says, more to himself than the company but Gailien has made her way and is close enough to hear it.
"Oin, Gloin."
"Aye?"
"Get a fire going."
"How long ago, Mithrandir?" Gailien questions, trying to gain a clue from the stage of rotting on the wood, which is only being held up by stones. Gandalf glances around darkly as he turns to talk to Thorin who is walking away from camp towards the wizard and Seer.
"Not long enough for it to be dismissed," Gandalf notes to the Seer. She looks once more over the remains of the house before turning her attention to Thorin. "I think it would be wiser to move on. We could make for the hidden valley."
So, Gandalf intends to take the dwarves to the elves. Gailien holds a snort, knowing that it would never happen with Thorin alive, not knowingly anyway. She herself hasn't been to Rivendell in many years but she has no desire to visit it again, no matter how beautiful it may be compared to Mirkwood.
"But I've told you already. I will not go near that place," Thorin declares, walking straight past Gailien and the wizard.
"Why not?" Gandalf presses, following the dwarf. Gailien trails behind slowly. "The elves could help us, we could get food, rest, advice."
Thorin does not even entertain the idea. It is bad enough in his mind that he has let an elf on this quest in the first place. The only reason he has done so is for the fact that she could provide them with assistance that he does not see fit to deny (though, ironically, he already has), and her un-elvish like features have swayed his thoughts.
"I do not need their advice," Thorin states, stopping in his tracks to face the duo. Gailien is not sure which side she should choose to support but ultimately decides to keep her mouth closed.
"We have a map that we cannot read. Lord Elrond could help us," Gandalf persists. Thorin looks at Gailien, gesturing to her slightly.
"Can she not read the map?" he suggests. Gailien shakes her head quickly.
"I've already seen the language; it is not something they teach. At least, in Mirkwood, they do not." She glances up at Gandalf then risks making eye contact with the King, knowing her next words are likely not going to do her good. "Maybe Gandalf is right about Elrond. I don't doubt that he would be able to help us."
"Help?" Thorin shakes his head, resting his left palms against the hilt of his sword. "A dragon attacks Erebor. What help came from the Elves? Orcs plunder Moria, desecrate our sacred halls, the elves looked on and did nothing!" He steps closer to the pair, reaffirming his words. "You ask me to seek out the very people who betrayed my grandfather, who betrayed my father?"
"You are neither of them. I did not give you that map and key for you to hold on to the past," Gandalf argues, his anger growing as the words start to leave his mouth in a hasty spit. But Thorin retorts just as swiftly as Gandalf.
"I did not know they were yours to keep."
Gandalf shakes his head softly and ends the argument. He turns, walking down through the camp, sulking at the stubbornness of dwarves. At least, one in particular. Bilbo, who is patting Balin's dwarf notices the wizard walking hastily through.
"Everything alright?" he questions. "Gandalf, where are you going?"
"To seek the company of the only one around here who's got any sense," he grumbles, not stopping as he passes through all of the onlooking dwarves.
"And who's that?"
"Myself, mister Baggins!" he cries. "I've had enough dwarves for one day."
Gailien sighs from her spot still on the foundation of the rotting house, shaking her head.
"Come one Bombur," Thorin says from next to her. "We're hungry."
Gailien follows Thorin back down to camp, also feeling the hunger grow in her stomach. Dwarves are hardy, meant to not feel the same hunger as man or elves, so if they are hungry, then she and Bilbo Baggins, certainly are.
"He quite likes his dramatics," she says aloud. Not to any dwarf or hobbit in particular but Thorin so happens to be the only one close enough to listen. "Gandalf, I mean."
Thorin eyes her. Something in the way she said that makes him think that she has known Gandalf far longer than the rest of them. "How long have you known him?"
Gailien shrugs, tilting her head slightly to the left to do the math in her head. She had met him in Rivendell when she was passing through there. Not by choice, but her food ration had run out a few days before and it was the closest place at that time. "About two hundred years or so," she answers. She turns her body to the King, biting her lip. "I am truly sorry. About the actions of elves against your kin."
Thorin clenches his jaw, not turning to face the girl but he glances at her from the side of his eye. "Were you there, the day the dragon attacked?"
Gailien doesn't know what he wants her answer to be, but she has nothing but the truth to offer him. "No, I was not. I was in Gondor at that time." She doesn't know if that answer pleases him or not as he walks away without giving her any reaction.
Gailien wants nothing but acceptance from him. Her intentions are true and honourable, yet he continues to disdain her so. Maybe so, but she still has a kindling of friendship with his nephews that she has no intention of letting die out.
The only woman in the company helps Bombur make the stew. The dwarf is quite insistent on doing it alone, as it is his job, but she makes do with helping to cut the meat, leaving the rest to the dwarf. Once it is ready to be served, she grabs two bowls.
Dwalin and Thorin are locked in their own conversation on the edge of the camp, oblivious that dinner is ready and has been called for. She intended for one bowl to be her own, but she can also get another.
Sauntering over, the two dwarves stop their conversation as Dwalin notices the girl approaching. She smiles coyly, holding out the bowls. Gailien is very aware that their conversation has come to a halt in her presence.
"Sorry, I just thought you both would like some dinner."
Dwalin reaches for the bowl first, Thorin mimicking slowly after. The warrior dwarf sends her a nod of gratitude. "Thank you, lass." Her smile grows a little bolder, even though Thorin does not say anything and she turns away back to camp.
Dwalin watches her go, trailing his gaze on her limp. Thorin also notices, frowning. "Is she injured?" he asks Dwalin. His concern grows, recalling her fall from the horse earlier. Dwalin shakes his head.
"Nay," he denies. "Said it was an old injury. Had it back at the Shire as well. She assured me it wouldn't slow us down."
Thorin narrows his eyes before bringing them off the girl entirely, though the conversation's topic does not stray far. "I'll be the judge of that." Dwalin huffs in agreement. "Do you think we should trust her?"
Dwalin takes a bite of his stew, contently chewing through the juicy meat. Nobody can deny that Bombur is the best of all them all. "Look." He sighs, glancing quickly back over to the camp. "I hate elves just as much as you do but I think she's different from her kind."
"All elves are the same," Thorin argues, his eyes darkening. "Why should she be any different?"
"I don't know," Dwalin resigns. "But not only has she not argued against our cause, but she is here willingly. She doesn't exclude herself from the camp and your nephews have taken a liking to her."
Thorin contemplates Dwalin's words. He trusts the warrior, his friend, but his doubts still grow. His begins eating his own stew, pushing the elf-girl from his thoughts.
Gailien settles down next to Bilbo since Fili and Kili are off with the ponies. She finishes her dinner rather quickly, feeling famished from the day of riding.
"Do you think he is going to come back?" Bilbo asks her. His bowl sits in his lap, finished but he is not hungry for any more as he usually would be. Gailien nods, fiddling around with her spoon.
"Yes, Bilbo. Gandalf is just tired and needs time to think," she explains, offering him a warm but short-lasting smile. "Even if we leave, he will catch up with us."
Soon, the camp is covered in darkness and most of the dwarves have eaten, except the two brothers. Bofur must have the same trail of thought as he comes over with two bowls, handing them to the hobbit.
"Here, do us a favour, take this to the lads." Bilbo takes the bowl, scurrying off as Bombur tries to help himself to the leftovers. "Stop it, you've had plenty."
Gailien finds herself alone as her main companions have all found themselves occupied by other means and her bravery has not yet built up enough to bring herself to talk to the other dwarves. Perhaps Balin would provide her with some company. Her eyes survey the camp, the mixture of dwarves blending in. Dwalin and Thorin still talk together, though they have moved closer to the camp.
Balin is sitting next to Nori, a dwarf that she doesn't mind but is not yet set in a firm opinion of. Taking the chance, she leaves her spot near the fire, cautiously dodging around the other dwarves who pay her no mind.
"Evening, Balin, Nori," she greets, putting on her warmest smile. Her heart stops in the moment that it takes them to react. Nori glances up at her, barely offering any sort of welcome. But Balin, bless him, greets her back with the same smile.
"Gailien. Come, sit." Gailien takes a seat on the log next to the white-haired dwarf. Nori's face does not change, and at this point, Gailien will take that as a good sign. "Nori and I were just discussing the Shire. It is a beautiful, quiet place, is it not?"
Gailien nods hastily and without lie. "Yes, I spent the day there wandering Hobbiton. I would love to travel to the other Farthings as well but Hobbiton is the most well-known village in the Shire. Hobbit's are extraordinary creatures." Gailien realises that is beginning to ramble but Balin has started a topic she loves but has not had the chance to discuss with another person before. "I met a Took once, in Bree. Completely different from the rest of the Hobbit families. I also met a Gamgee, but I only stayed for tea so I can't tell you much about them."
Balin and Nori listen with wide ears and eyes, frankly astonished that the quiet girl is freely talking so much. Maybe quiet is not the right word to describe her, perhaps, reserved is better suited. "You have been to the Shire before then?" he questions, wanting to keep the girl open for her own sake.
"Yes," she answers. "Many years ago, but I never forgot it. In fact, it is probably one of my favourite places in Middle Earth. So, you can imagine when Gandalf told me the meeting would be in Hobbiton, I was surprised but pleased."
Balin asks her more questions, dragging the conversation onwards and even Nori finds himself putting something towards it. The topic doesn't stray far from the hobbits and eventually it circles back until they laugh in recollection of Bilbo's expressions when they opened the door.
Her beaming, tightly pulled cheeks drop as she realises that Bilbo is not yet back from giving the dwarf princes their meals. There is always the chance that the hobbit has just stayed to give them company but something inside her forces her to stand from the log.
"I'm just going to check on Bilbo," she murmurs to the two dwarves, but they don't take much notice, laughing to themselves. Her hands pat her side subtle, reassuring herself that her blades are in place. The rest of camp is in the same state, with full bellies and ready for sleep, not noticing the missing hobbit or Gailien walking into the darkness.
Her eyes provide her with a little advantage as she steps over branches and small trenches in the ground. The forest is eerie at night, yet oddly peaceful. Gailien supposes that growing up in Mirkwood would have her used to trees constantly hanging over her. At least these ones don't reek with sickness. It used to be called Greenwood until the power of Sauron overrun the land many years ago and the forest grew darker and darker. Evil creatures lurk, and if you dare stray off the path, then there is not a god you could pray to for help.
But this is no forest, just land with some trees. A large toppled over tree. The old wood has been pulled from the ground by brute force, not by old rotting of age. Something big. Gailien stares at the tree, her feet slowly moving her around it as she tries to figure out what her mind is dying to tell her. The thought hits harder than an iron arrowhead to the heart.
Trolls.
Her gaze darts back into the night, feverishly scanning for either a dwarf or hobbit. There is no sign of them near so she ducks, keeping her feet as light as she can on the ground and hunts the lost members of the company down.
In the near distance, she can hear a voice, three distinctively, but also awfully unfamiliar. The growing pit in her stomach grows as she fears her vision earlier that day is coming true. She follows the sound, a light from a campfire illuminating the trees, and two crouching figures behind them.
Fili and Kili are kneeling down, hidden from the camp but are watching it intently. Gailien holds a sigh of relief at the unharmed state as she is still missing one person. Keeping even more quiet and low than before, she hurries next to them. Kili and Fili do not hear her until she is at their ankles, crawling up behind the same tree.
Their mouths open as they try to think of what to say to address their new company, but the words fall short. The woman is quite aware of their state of secrecy so saying 'hello' would be too odd for the situation. But what else could they say; that they sent their burglar into a troll camp?
"Where's Bilbo?" she hisses, looking around for the hobbit. The trolls camp is just ahead, only a tilted body away. Kili bites his lip, watching the troll camp carefully.
"Ah, at the moment, with the trolls," he answers reluctantly. It had been his and Fili's idea, but they are now seeing that is was probably a mistake, rooted in their want to not disappoint their uncle.
Gailien's eyes widen as she finally looks towards the troll camp. There, surrounding a fire are tree mountain trolls. Hideous, with large curved noses and beige skin that wrinkles. The sight of them makes her glad for her neat complexion and the hair on her head. She glares at Kili then to Fili on her other side. "You sent him into the troll camp?" she hisses, knowing the trolls are too stupid and loud to hear her but that is a risk she does not want to take. If only Thorin had listened to her. "Why did you send him into the troll camp?"
Fili swallows thickly, wincing. "They stole some of the ponies," he tries to explain in his and his brother's defence. "We thought that since Bilbo is small and quiet that he could sneak in there and release them."
Gailien peers at the camp again, noticing the ponies in a small enclosure behind them. Bilbo slowly moves into her view, between the middle and troll on the right. "You better be right," she grunts under her breath. To run in their now would be a death sentence, and Bilbo has yet to be caught.
The trolls dote over their brewing dinner, but the two dwarf princes and the elf-girl spend their attention on the movements of the hobbit. He seems to be trying to go for the long knife on the middle troll's waistband. Gailien begins to contemplate sneaking in there but her lack of elvish traits means that her footwork is nowhere near as stealthy as a hobbit or elf. If they have any chance of succeeding, it will be with Bilbo.
Bilbo disappears behind the middle troll, making Gailien grip the bark of the tree as her heart beats faster. Kili and Fili's breathing has also increased.
"Me guts are grumbling, I've got to snaffle something. Flesh. I need flesh!" one of the other trolls declares. He stands, making a move for the ponies. The middle troll that is blocking Bilbo from view reaches behind him. Gailien's eyes near pop out of her head as instead of whatever the troll is intending on grasping, Bilbo Baggins is in his hold. The oblivious troll sneezes, blowing mucus all over the poor hobbit.
"Aah! Blimey! Bert!" the troll exclaims as Bilbo lies in his hand, covering with the horrid substance. "Bert, look what's come out of me hooter! It's got arms and legs and everything!" The three trolls circle around the outstretched hand holding Bilbo in the air who is much to of a shock and daze to react right away.
"What is it?" Bert asks.
Gailien grasps Fili's jacket, forcing him to look at her. "Get the company," she hisses to him, not caring is she comes across as bossy. She should have done so herself the moment that she realised what is going on. Fili nods, scurrying back off into the darkness as he also realises that there is now no other choice. Kili looks to Gailien who gives him a brief glance, waiting for her to give him instructions as well. In the troll camp, Bilbo has finally managed to speak, declaring himself a 'burglar-hobbit' and has fallen out of the troll's hold. He ducks under a large fist trying to scoop him back up. "Just wait a moment, we need the company," she says to the dwarf next to her as his impatience grows.
"He's going to get himself killed," he protests as Bilbo continues to avoid the trolls' grasps. Gailien agrees, wanting nothing more than to run out herself but they have to wait for the company's support. Bilbo is finally caught, being handles by his legs and the blood rushes to his head.
"Gotcha! Are there any more of you little fellas hiding where you shouldn't?" the original middle troll questions.
"No!" Bilbo squawks, his arms flailing about as he tries to find another way to escape.
"He's lying," the cross-eyed troll gurgles, even his voice matching his disgusting nature. The ball of Gailien's foot digs into the ground, scuffing against the dirt. She slowly pulls her blades from their holsters. Kili takes notice of her moves, copying it with his own sword. They silently move around the camp to attack from a vantage point, whether the company arrives or not.
"I'm not!" Bilbo denies but his words no longer do him much good.
"Hold his toes over the fire. Make him squeal!"
Kili runs out first, bursting from the bush with his sword raised high already. The sharp edge of his blade cuts through the leg of the cross-eyes troll who squeals in pain, lifting his leg to him. Only a moment behind, Gailien emerges, falling to her knees to glide under the large creature. Her twin blades are held out on either side of her as she slides, striking the troll on either leg.
The troll squeals, even more, falling against a rock near where they came from. Pushing herself back to her knees, she stands with Kili, holding her blades out and ready for an attack.
"Drop him!" Kili commands, his chest heaving as the adrenaline starts to pump through his veins in anticipation. The other two trolls are stunned by the new arrival.
"You what?" the one holding Bilbo asks. Deaf as well as stupid, Gailien observes.
"You have our hobbit," she says, smirking mirthlessly as her blades twirl around in her hands for effect. "And we'd like him back."
An animalistic growl, that belongs more to a four-legged beast than a troll leaves the throat of the largest troll and he tosses Bilbo through the air. There isn't much time to think or prepare for the incoming hobbit who is flying towards them but Kili reacts quicker than she does. And thankfully, Bilbo flies straight towards the young prince who opens his arms to catch the hobbit.
At the same time, Thorin, leading the company storms into the trolls' camp. The dwarves brandish their weapons high and in ready of an attack. Their entrance distracts Gailien for a moment but hastily rights herself, her fingers tightening around the grips of her short swords. A battle cry passes her lips as she runs forward in line with the dwarves.
There is no real strategy to the fight as the dwarves attack the closest troll, aiming at wherever they can reach. Gailien strikes at them, sometimes cutting them, earning her a squeal of pain and sometimes not. A dwarf flies through the air but lands softly enough that they get themselves right back into battle.
Surprisingly, it is not a troll fist or foot that comes her way, but the blade of an axe. She drops to the ground, feeling a brush of wind against the top of her head. Her forearms scrap against the ground but she pushes herself back to her feet in less than a moment. Thorin stands near her, the axe that was just nearly responsible for taking off her head in his hands, though this time, swinging at a troll leg.
"Do I look like a troll?" she asks loudly, swinging again at the same troll as Thorin but on the other foot. Thorin rolls his eyes, grunting as his axe embeds in the troll's leg.
"It's hard to tell in the dark," he responds. Gailien doesn't know is he is taunting for humorous purpose or out of spite, but she doesn't have the time to spend questioning it as large grimy fingers lock around her waist. A mixture of a grunt and yelp leaves her lips as her feet leave the ground, pulling her into the air. The fingers have locked her arms against her sides, leaving her utterly defenceless.
A dwarven figure flies through the air, their sword in front of them, slicing down through the arm holding her up. The troll screams, his grip loosening and she finally falls to the ground free. Her gaze follows the dwarf that freed her, finding the blonde hair of Fili who is already looking at her.
"Thanks." She gives him a toothy smile, engaging back into battle. Another troll holds Dwalin in the same way it had her, so she jumps onto the large stone on the edge of the camp, pushing off it. Her body soars through the air blissfully until it ends abruptly as her body collides with the troll's arm. Using one hand to hold her up, her other brings the short sword high, driving it straight into the tender flesh between the thumb and pointer.
Dwalin is dropped back to the ground, picking up his lost weapon and Gailien lets herself slide off as well, landing next to the warrior. She begins to move forward to fight but the other two trolls are already occupied. Bilbo is being held in the air, both his arms and legs being held by the two trolls.
The dwarves stop fighting but Kili runs forward. "Bilbo!" Thorin holds a hand in front of Kili, holding his nephew in place but they still hold their weapons high and ready for attack. Gailien falters, like Kili, wanting to run forward past Thorin but the trolls have gotten the upper hand. If only she had kept an eye on him.
"Lay down your arms!" the fat one orders. "Or we'll rip his off!"
Bilbo watches the company intensely. Would they really surrender to save his life? He isn't quite sure if Thorin would do such a thing just to save his hide. Slobber still covers his face, his hair wet and sticking together and he breathes heavily. Gailien watches Thorin intently, as he is their leader and hers from the moment she signed that contract.
Thorin grumbles, lowering the point of his sword down, digging it into the ground. One by one, the dwarves let their weapons fall and Kili throws his with a sulky temperament. Gailien lets hers slip from her fingers, falling to the ground quietly as she stands next to Dwalin, behind Thorin. Even Dori throws his slingshot in anger, an unusual look for the typical boyish nature of the young dwarf.
"Looks like we're having dwarf," Tom says, grinning which shows his rotting and half missing teeth.