Chapter 11: The White Stag
The silver rope stays taut as Gailien slowly hunts down the deer. As soon as her feet left the path, the forest knew it had her in its clutches and began to play every single trick of the mind that it can. She looks over her shoulder, the small company barely visible. Behind the small group, the rest of the company has almost finished making the cot.
Facing back to the company, she tries to retrace the steps she had seen the white stag take. It had darted forward but then turned around. While not much of a tracker, the skill is not absent and she bends down, examining the ground for the heavy marks of the animal.
Sure enough, there are three heavy imprints of hooves and one slightly unpatterned one. The tracks are easy to follow, and her pace quickens as she moves alongside them. The company are now well out of sight and even her ears cannot pick up any sound of their voices. Her concern now is how long the rope is.
She can hear a child's laughter once more and though her neck itches to turn, she keeps it set straight, only allowing her eyes to watch the tracks and the path ahead. But then a cold hand grasps her arm.
A sharp gasp escapes her throat as her body turns around, ready to face whoever has followed her. But there is nobody – not even a whisper of anything living. The hand of her other arm lifts, resting on the spot where she felt the hand but there is nothing but the leather of her jacket. It was so cold that she had felt it through both her layers. Still not convinced that there is nobody there, she walks backwards, scanning the eerily quiet trees.
The back of her heel catches on a large root and her arms flail out but there is nothing to grasp. She falls backwards, landing on her back. Her breathing is heavy but steady, determined to keep her calm mind. The rope around her waist tugs sharply at her. Once. Twice.
She reaches out, tugging as sharply as she can twice back. She is alright. Pushing herself back to her feet, she looks back to the ground, looking for the tracks. They are still there, drifting off to the right. The imprints have become uneven, swaying from side to side and she knows that it cannot be far off now – it looks like it is barely walking.
Sure enough, only after another minute of walking, the stag presents itself to her, lying dead in against the trunk of a tree. The white fur on its shoulder is coated in bright red, the arrow still poking from its flesh. It is such a beautiful creature that a small pool of guilt settles in her stomach, but this beautiful creature will be even better in their stomachs. Her own growls in anticipation.
Gailien crouches down to it, pulling the arrow out. The fur is as soft as it looks, and she cannot help but run her fingers through it. A small, Elvish prayer of thanks slips over her lips. Her hands drift to her waist, thanking the makers that the rope is long enough. It takes a bit of fiddling from Thorin's tightening but it undoes itself soon.
She keeps it taut by being held under her knee as she starts pulling on the stag's legs, moving all four until its hooves are together underneath. Then Gailien starts tying the rope around its legs.
Double checking that it is secure, Gailien stands back up, tugging on the rope and sure enough, the stag moves with the rope. She is glad that the Dwarves will be able to pull it back as the creature is much larger than her. Content, she turns back in the direction of the company, holding the rope tightly in her left hand and gives it three sharp tugs. A moment after the third, Kili and whoever is helping, begins to pull on the rope and the stag is dragged along the ground.
Gailien stands in front of it, pulling it over roots or around trees where she can. She has done it – the company will have food. They may just make out of this forsaken forest alive. As long as they keep pulling, nothing can stop that stag from reaching them. Except for perhaps spiders – but they have not been seen since they entered.
She has not yet told them about the spiders, not wanting to add to the fear but her eyes have been peeled for any sign of the webs.
A bush rustles behind her and not being able to resist, her head falls over her shoulder – though her hand is still tightly clenched around the rope. There is a small hedge-like plant, its leaves moving. Maybe it was a bird or even a rabbit. Whatever it is, it is not worth leaving the stag.
A small content smile places itself on her lips and her head falls back in front of her but it drops just as quick as it came. Her hand is still out, as though it never left the rope but there is nothing but air. She opens her palm, spinning around on her heels, searching for the stag and rope but it is nowhere to be seen.
Spinning was a deadly choice. Her bearing is lost and now she has no way to know which way is the one she needs to face.
"Kili?!"
Xx
Thorin, Kili, and Fili tug on the rope. As Gailien had promised, the rope has not broken, even if it is thinner than their smallest fingers. Kili had a little scare when the rope suddenly jostled in his grip, quickly tugging on it twice as instructed but Gailien responded within seconds.
Now the deer has been tied off and they are pulling it back. Even through the thirst and tire, the thought of food makes them work hard. The rope pools behind them. Thorin Bilbo glances down at it.
"It shouldn't be far off," he notes aloud. Thorin looks over his shoulder at the pile for himself. Then the rope becomes snagged on something. They tug again as the deer seems to be caught on something.
"You'd think she could at least pull it over whatever it's caught on," Fili huffs as the rope makes an indent in his palm from how tight he is holding it.
"You ungrateful prat," Kili retorts. Fili laughs through his heavy breathes as his words are purely teasing. They tug harder and the deer frees itself from whatever it snared on. They stumble as it becomes suddenly easier and the rope begins sliding easily under their grip. "There it is!"
The body of the deer emerges in the short distance and they begin to cheer, the rest of the company behind them also watching in anticipation. But their smiles drop slowly as the deer comes to them, not accompanied by the person or ventured out after it.
Kili drops the rope, panic rising in his chest. "Gailien? Gailien?!" Thorin and Fili also drop the rope, marching forward, just over the edge of the path. His eyes dart through the trees, searching for the dark head of hair.
"Where...where is she?" Bilbo questions, his mouth hanging open. The deer lies in front of them, neatly tied off at the feet.
Thorin sets his jaw tight and begins to march forward into the forest. "What are you doing, Thorin?" Dwalin exclaims. Thorin only pauses to answer him, barely turning.
"I'm going after her," he says, making sure is voice is loud enough to be heard by all members. Dwalin growls, striding forward and he grips Thorin's coat.
"You can't."
Thorin glares at his warrior friend. "I will not leave her out there. I will not abandon any member of this company!"
"Gailien is stronger than she looks," Dwalin counters, his voice steadier than their leaders. "If you go out there, we will lose you too." Dwalin breathes through his nose, leaning in close. "Look, I know exactly what she means to ya'. We've all seen that bead but if you go out there, you're putting this entire quest at more risk than it already is."
"If you've seen it, then you know why I have to go after her," Thorin growls quietly. The muscles in his jaw protrude from his skin.
"She chose to be the person to leave for a reason. If anybody has chance of finding us again it is her. This place was once her home, she used to play in these trees as a child. You did not. If you leave, then you'll never see the company again."
Thorin tears his glare away from Dwalin, instead, scanning over the company. Most hold expressions of apprehension, muttering between themselves. Bilbo's mouth still hangs open, watching the forest.
Kili's jaw is clenched shut as he breaths heavily, his eyes hastily flickering between his uncle and the trees. Fili's arm is around his brother's shoulder, awaiting Thorin's decision.
"Make camp here for the night," he orders. Dwalin nods, stepping back and the Dwarves begin to shuffle about as they usually do. They take the stag; both excited at the prospect of food, but off-put by one of their member's disappearance.
"She's still out there," Kili exclaims. Thorin closes his eyes, nodding slowly.
"I know, Kili. But she will have to come to us."
Kili frowns, looking to his older brother. Fili gives him a tight-lipped smile. "Dwalin is right. Besides, she still has my knife and she made a promise to bring it back to me."
Xx
Fili's knife is held tight in her hand, the only thing that is keeping her grounded. Dehydration is already taking its toll on her body. The forest never seems to change, no matter how many steps in any direction that she takes. If she hadn't turned her head... If she just hadn't spun around...If she just hadn't shot that stag. No – then the Dwarves would still be starving, assuming that they were able to retrieve it. There is no reason they shouldn't have.
They had been travelling east and to retrieve the stag she had moved south. The sun is low, but a few speckles of its golden light shine through. With the sun on her right shoulder, she hopes that her feet are taking her north.
But there is nothing familiar.
She debates calling out their names but knows that she risks calling to other things in the forest that she has no wish to awaken.
Her feet keep her moving, hours well into the night. She keeps her eyes wide open, hoping to see a glimmer of light from a campfire. Dwarfish or not. But soon her eyes start fluttering close as her legs still walk and more than once, she is awoken by her head falling to her chest and her knees digging into the dirt. She places Fili's blade in the side of her boot, fearing that she will land on it if she continues to hold it.
At one point, her body finally gives up and her chest thuds against the ground.
The next morning her neck cracks painfully, being pushed to the side the entire night and her throat is so dry that it hurts to cough. But there is no salvation in staying still. With nothing but her own willpower fuelling her, Gailien forces her feet to keep moving. One step after the other.
Now she doesn't care if she calls the attention of the other living things of the forest and Thorin's name tries to pass her lips multiple times. But each time, it cracks before it forms anything intelligible.
The magic in the forest doesn't lighten either and she no longer knows if she is travelling north, or maybe she needs to travel east again and hope the path winds in front of her own.
Another night and day pass, and finally, she gives up. There is no hope left in her body that she will ever see the company again. She cannot even bring herself to shed a tear.
Gailien stands still, about the let herself fall to the ground in resignation but a chilling, animalistic shriek pierces the air to her right. Out of nowhere, the body of a spider falls to the ground in front of her, an arrow sticking out of its neck. An Elven arrow.
Before she can even draw her own weapons, the same type of arrow is pointed at her face.