Chapter 12: The Hair of Elves
Before she can even draw her own weapons, the same type of arrow is pointed at her face.
"Who are you?" The Elf behind the bow demands. His light brown hair neatly braided back then loosely hanging down his back Gailien's eyes are as wide as a deer spotting its predator. Should she act helpless and beg for help? Should she reveal her Elven heritage? There are so many variables that she doesn't even begin to sort through them.
"My name is Gailien," she answers in Sindarin in a scratchy voice. The Elf's eyes narrow, his bow dropping slightly and his companion saunters forward, armed with a sword rather than a bow. "I was travelling with my family when I got lost."
"You speak our tongue?" the companion – a darker haired man questions.
"I am an Elf," she answers, figuring that her nature will do more good than harm. She notes their sceptical eyes and begins to raise her hands. The Elf with the bow tenses, raising it once again. Gailien opens her empty palms to them, showing herself as unarmed. Slowly, she brings them to her hair, brushing it back over her ears. "Mirkwood was once my home."
"You said you were travelling with your family," the darker haired one says. "That wouldn't happen to be the pack of Dwarves that we found, would it?" His tone is almost taunting. Gailien's mouth drops open slightly. So, they have been caught? Would it be better for her to join them in captivity or create a lie that will possibly let her accompany the Elves back to Mirkwood as a guest rather than a prisoner. Apparently, her silence is the answer they are looking for.
The dark-haired one sheathes his sword and saunters forward. He takes her twin blades from their holster and begins patting her down. He does a rough job, barely running his hand over her – she must not look like much of a threat. Fili's knife stays safely hidden in the inside of her boot. The lighter haired one puts the arrow back in his quiver.
"We should return before more spiders come out."
"And get in trouble for not clearing them?"
"Are you going to babysit the girl while fighting off those horrid things?"
The darker haired one rolls his eyes, pulling his sword back out. His spare hand rises to the back of her neck, his fingers wrapping around it and he pushes her forward. The Dwarves – she's going to see them again.
The pair is silent as they guide her through the forest. How they have any idea where they are going, she does not know. Gailien never knew the forest that well.
"You said you are from Mirkwood," the lighter haired one starts, "how on Middle Earth did you end up with a bunch those hideous, greedy creatures?"
They are not ugly – she wants to hiss back at him. Nor are they greedy (for the most part.) "I told you, they are my family. Blood or not."
"That doesn't answer my question."
"I am not the person you should be asking then."
The Elf is silent for a few more moments but it seems he is not as fond of the silence as his companion is. "We saved them from the spiders if you're wondering. They're all alive."
"Should I be thanking you for taking them prisoner?" she hisses, no longer bothering with formality or niceties. "I may offer you a small thanks when you watch me leave with them."
"You think the King will just let you go?" he asks with a small taunting smirk.
"No. But we will leave either way."
Again, there are another few moments of silence but the light-haired Elf laughs suddenly. "I like you. You've got spirit and a sharp tongue."
Both Elves seem satisfied with the ending of the conversation as Gailien has no response to his remark. They don't travel much further before the sound of Dwarfish outrage reaches her ears. It becomes louder as they lead her into a clearing. They were so close to her all this time.
There are twenty or so Elves, their bows taut, all aiming at the same thing. The company. Her eyes close in relief as their own turn to her as the three Elves approach the leader of the hunting party. Thorin's mouth opens as Gailien is brought in front of him. Kili begins to call out her name, but Fili elbows his side, giving his brother a pointed look. They do not know what the Elves know about her yet.
Gailien passes the company, sending them the smallest of smiles but her stomach drops as she comes face to face with the leader. Legolas' squinted expression loosens. Before her two captors can address the Prince, Legolas speaks first.
"Gailien," he mumbles.
Although it should not be a surprise to some, a few of the members begin murmuring amongst themselves. Thorin's eyes darken at the blonde Elf. Gailien manages a small bland smile. "Legolas. It has been quite some time." Her captor's grip loosens slightly, obviously not foretelling that this was a possible interaction.
"I thought you dead," Legolas states.
"No. Just wandering Middle Earth." She tilts her head as though in a casual conversation about the weather. "I see you've had the pleasure of meeting my friends."
"The Dwarves? Why do you travel with them?"
"Why do you think?"
Legolas is conflicted, a fact obvious to anybody who watches his expression closely enough. She had disappeared one day without a trace and then they found her brother's dead body they believed she had succumbed to the same fate. Gailien doesn't want to speak the way she does to him right now. No, she would much rather embrace him and ask for forgiveness for leaving him without a single word of goodbye. But she is no longer a friend of Mirkwood, and in turn, its prince.
The company almost shifts their heads between the two Elves as they speak in the foreign tongue to each other, having no idea of what is being said (except Kili who picks up on a few phrases).
"You have not changed," he says eventually. "But at the same time, you have."
"I have four hundred years of life to thank for that. Though I must thank you for teaching me how to use a weapon. I fear that I would not have made it this far without you."
"You still do not carry a bow." There is a twinkle of mirth in his eye as the frown on his face slowly ebbs away.
She shrugs lazily, hiding her tire. "Too cumbersome."
"You find a bow cumbersome, but not the company of Dwarves?" he asks, switching back to Common Tongue, intending for the Dwarves to hear his insult. "You could return home. But not if you place yourself amongst them."
"I'd prefer them over the Elves any day of my life. And I would gladly give it for them, so do not test my loyalty." She scans the clearing, giving each Elf in her sight a dark glare.
The Dwarves barely hold their proud smirks. Even Fili cocks an eyebrow at the Elf closest to him. Thorin holds a small smirk, keeping his gaze on Legolas whose once mirthful stature drops back to its original snarl.
Legolas strides forward with a burning glare, but his eyes catch the glint of metal in her hair and his expression morphs. He reaches out towards it, but Gailien pulls her head away. He glares at her once more, his hand moving fast than her head and he grasps the back of her head where the hair is tied.
Gailien hisses as he yanks her head to the side. Thorin snarls, stepping forward, but the sword belonging to the dark-haired elf that escorted her lays across his chest. Legolas finds the metal bead amongst her dark hair, holding it up for his own eyes to see.
"You wear his mark?" he asks, the glare dropping into an expression of puzzlement. Gailien isn't sure who 'he' is but a good guess would be that the rune is a symbol of somebody important in Dwarf culture since Legolas knows of it. The Elf drops the bead and her hair, letting her stand straight again.
Gailien shrugs the dark-haired Elf's hands off her neck who let's go, and she marches towards the Dwarves until they surround her. Dwalin lays a heavy hand on her shoulder, squeezing it once – a welcome back. For the first time in many days, she feels comfort. Belonging.
Legolas shouts an order to his part of Elves and the Dwarven company begins to be shuffled onwards.
"I knew you would make it back to us," Fili says as he and his brother make their way to her side. "What happened out there?"
"The forest. One moment I was holding the rope, the next – everything was gone." She wants to tell him that she still has his blade safely tucked away but the lurking Elves will hear every whisper that passes their tongues. "I kept your promise," she says instead, staring at Fili, hoping that he will pick up on her hint. Fili smiles, a little confused but then it morphs into a larger one that he tries to hide.
"We got hunted down by the spiders," Kili says.
"I can tell," she muses, noting the covering of webs in different places. Kili has some in the back of his hair but she doesn't bother trying to remove it. "Is everybody safe?"
"I think so," Fili says, looking around the moving company. "Actually...I can't see Bilbo." Gailien tries to hide her panic but she subtle looks around. There is no sign of the reddish-brown hair anywhere. Once again, he has managed to evade their captors. She only hopes that he can once again find them.
Her throat is still dry, not having touched the salvation of water in many days and what starts out as a small cough turns into her chest hacking. Gailien bends over, resting her palms on her knees as her throat tries to get rid of the painful itch. A hand starts rubbing her back, patting it softly as Kili's head bends over to see hers.
"She needs water!" Thorin exclaims. "Please."
Gailien could swear that she almost fainted. Not because her lungs are trying to escape out her throat, but Thorin is pleading to the Elves. She doesn't hear a response but there likely isn't one.
Thorin catches the waterskin thrown to him by the blonde dwarf. He unscrews the lid, marching over to Gailien's hunched form. He bends over, holding the open skin under her for her to see. Gailien's eyes are screwed shut but a new presence over her other side makes her open them. The waterskin almost seems like a mirage through her hazy, water covered eyes. She leans back up straight, trying to hold in her cough as it is brought to her lips. Her hand covers Thorin's as she tries to take it from him, but the Dwarf doesn't let go.
The cool water feels like it has been sent from the spirits themselves. She coughs again as the water is in her mouth and she begins to choke on the liquid. Thorin pulls the waterskin away, rubbing her upper back instead. Gailien calms herself, wiping her eyes away so she can see properly.
"Thanks," she croaks to Thorin. "I needed that." Even now, words move smoother through her throat, the burning itch dying out. Thorin only silently hands her the water skin, letting her control her own pace now that she is not struggling to breathe.
"It was stupid what you did," he chides, referring to her venture off the path.
"Yes, but you got food, didn't you?" she counters back, but also actually asking since she wasn't there to see the deer being brought back. "And I'm back. Just as I said I would be. I was so close to the path that even if I hadn't been found I would have crossed back to you."
"We lost the path," Thorin admits. "But yes, we did get to eat, so thank you."
Xx
Legolas doesn't utter another word to her – not that she can blame him. They met on rather strenuous terms. The Elf party leads them through the forest of Mirkwood, leaving the stony path they have been taking, but guiding them along another. The path becomes very familiar, one that she would not have led the Dwarves down, but that choice has been stripped away.
The Mirkwood kingdom is both very alike, and very unlike the forest at the same time. Their paths are made of wood when not stone, large branches grown into bridges and arches. But there is only a hint of the sickness of the forest, seeping through the gaps in their doors.
The Elves shove forward any Dwarf who so much as falls a step behind, or just for the sake of it. Though she does try to hide it, Gailien cannot help but sneak glances at the blond prince. They were once friends – one of the only ones she had. It had never been her intention to just leave him behind without a word, but she never had made plans to leave it the first place. Then, once she had, there was no courage in the world that could have found her until this quest to bring herself back.
The guards open the front gates and for the first time in four hundred years, Gailien steps into the palace of Mirkwood. Though it is dark in lighting, it does not hold the same darkness as the evil outside and the warm golden glow emits through the chasm. Tauriel, an Elf that she only knows by name leads them. Gailien tries not to display her jealously of the Elf's long red hair. It is not a common colour and its length is beautiful compared to her measly short dark hair.
They are led down to the prison cells. Unescapable. By brute force anyways. But even if they do manage to sneak out, the paths are thin and direct and now unarmed, smuggling thirteen Dwarves out of the palace is an impossible feat.
Thorin is taken away from them, led on another path that will likely take him the Thranduil. Gailien can honestly say she has no idea on what the Elven King might say or do, but Thorin's response is already blatantly obvious. He would never work with the King who turned his back on the Dwarves.
They reach the cells and before she is thrown in, her jacket is stripped from her. The Dwarves are also stripped of their outer layers, leaving them only in their tunics and trousers. Fili gives his guard an exasperated expression, but it drops as the Elf reaches into one of his hidden pockets, pulling out his last hidden knife.
Gailien is shoved into her cell, opposite the brothers and on a high ledge. "This is not the end of it! Do you hear me?!" Dwalin exclaims, banging his fist against the metal.
"Let us out of here!" Bifur cries out in fury.
Legolas walks past her cell, not even turning his head towards her but her hand reaches through the bars, grasping the sleeve of his tunic. Legolas head snaps to her, already giving her a dark snarl.
"I'm sorry," she whispers. And truly, she means it. "I ran because I was scared. But there isn't a day that goes by that I'm not grateful for everything you have ever done for me."
Legolas' eyes flicker about, watching to listening ears. He turns slightly to her, shortening their distance. "Why did you leave then?"
"I was with my brother," she sighs. "When he died. And...and I didn't want to be here without him. And I mean what I said in the forest as well – that I wouldn't have survived if you hadn't taught me."
"Will you tell me why you have chosen to travel with the Dwarves then?" he questions, the edge of his voice growling.
"Because they are good people," she answers as though the answer is as obvious as naming the grass green. "I'll admit, they were a hard bunch at first, but you'll find that being around them for so long teaches you more about them than stories ever will."
"I do not need stories to know that Dwarves are greedy and stubborn."
"And that they can be. Just as Elves can be cruel and merciless. Cold and calculating. While you lead with your head, they lead with their hearts." Gailien's hands raise to the bars, pressing her thin face between them. "And most importantly. They fight with an honour that our kin will never know." Our kin. She has not called them that in so long and she isn't sure why she does so now. "The day you make a friend with a Dwarf is the day that I know you will have seen past what your father tells you."
Legolas sets his face back into a stony glare. He steps back from her cell, turning his head straight and marches onwards. Gailien sighs as the Dwarves begin trying to force their doors open. Fili starts kicking his, Kili shaking – trying to pull off this hinge and others just ram their entire bodies into it.
"It is no use, do not hurt yourselves," Gailien calls out tiredly. "These cells are made to hold creatures much stronger than Dwarves." They will not escape by force, but by being cunning. And that is not exactly a trait associated with the Dwarves. The Hobbit, however...