A Tale of Time

Chapter 3: Beads and Braiding

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.