A Tale of Time

Chapter 3: A Loud Bunch

"What does Thorin think of this?" Dwalin, who remains most unsure about this new arrival asks. His eyes are narrow, pointed at both the girl and the wizard.

"Thorin is aware of a fifteenth member and their purpose," Gandalf answers. "He has agreed."

The knowledge that their leader is aware seems to settle them down and they begin digging into their food again.

A dwarf with long brown hair and beard still peers at her. "You never told us what you are lass?" His eyes flicker to her shoed feet. "You're not a hobbit, but you are certainly not a dwarf."

Gailien sucks on her lips slightly, knowing her heritage would have come up at one point or another. Dwarves are very secretive about their own culture (mostly their tongue) and while they welcome the company of hobbits (who's home they often came through when travelling), their wariness stays strong.

"I am half-elf, master dwarf but-" her voice is cut off by Dori who stands abruptly, his chair skidding across the floor. Bilbo winces as the image of scratches flashes in his mind.

"An elf?" he cries. "We will not have an elf in our company!" His rage ensnares the reactions of the other dwarves, a mix of cry and outrage minus a few who don't voice their opinions loudly.

"She's probably here to tell her kin about her plans!"

"Slimy pointy-eared wench!"

Wench? Well, that is certainly a little insulting. Her eyes grow wide as the dwarves shout amongst themselves, throwing insults and thoughts freely in front of her. At least they have the balls to say it all to her face, she thinks. Gandalf tries to gain their attention back, but his words fall short on their ears.

"Enough!" Gailien shouts sternly. The dwarves halt, turning their glares towards her. "Yes, that is my bloodline." She looks them all in the eye one by one to make sure they know she is addressing each and every one of them. "But they are no more my kin than they are yours. I have no relations with them. I hold no hate for dwarves in my heart and I would appreciate it if you could separate me from what you think about the rest of my race."

Gandalf raises his brows for a quick moment, seeing how silent the dwarves have become at her words. "Gailien has not belonged to any elvish province since her childhood and holds no loyalties to them."

Gailien nods once, smiling slightly as the older white-haired dwarf she saw before is also smiling at her. "I have met many dwarves before, and it has been an honour. Besides, I'm only half-elf, half-man."

"Why are you so short?" The question comes from one of the younger dwarves with dark almost black hair, barely wielding any stubble on his face. The words are not accusatory, nor rude but are filled with bemusement.

"That is a tale for another day, but I wasn't born this way if that it was you were asking, master dwarf," she responds kindly. It would do her no good to speak harshly to any of them right now.

"Kili," he says, announcing his name.

"Kili," she repeats, nodding in slight greeting. "Do not judge me for my ears when I do not judge you for your beards."

A quiet murmur spreads once again through the group but Dwalin speaks up again.

"Thorin is our leader," he tells the group. "He will decide what happens."

The dwarves agree on his words. Gailien isn't sure if she likes Dwalin just yet as he seems set in his thoughts about her already, but he also recognises his place. He may be stubborn, but he also seems older, more experienced than most of the other dwarves. And she does like the white-haired one. Kili is also another she would like to get to know better.