A Tale of Time

Chapter 8: False Foretelling

Gailien looks back at them in curiosity. Kili is still grinning and pats his waist. Gailien's brows furrow in confusion for a few moments before she recalls the wager made yesterday. Laughter bubbles in her throat, leaving it freely.

The dryness of their clothes does not last long and only an hour into their travels do the clouds decide to release what they have been holding. The rain starts as a small patter and she sees Thorin's glance at her as if saying 'is this it, really?' But soon enough her head begins to hurt as the water droplets slap against her scalp and shoulders, drenching her cloak. At least it offers her a slight warmth.

Her eyes blink feverishly to keep the water out of them, and she tries to pull the hood further over her face, but the wind continues to push it underneath.

Everybody looks just as miserable as she feels, but none more so than poor Bilbo Baggins. The hobbit has come terribly underprepared as is only covered in his red jacket. The dwarves are hardy enough against the weather, even more so against the sickness of men but the hobbit has no such natural protection. Even her slight elvish blood will help her against sickness (the cold, not so much).

Sighing in pity, she pulls at the ties of her cloak and pulls it off her back. She folds it so the inside stays as dry as possible as she trots up to Bilbo's side. Her hands let the reigns drop but continues the pace. Leaning in the saddle, Gailien opens the cloak back up behind the hobbit, tugging it around his shoulders.

Bilbo shakes his head, not wanting the woman to lose her own protection against the weather. Nor does he want to feel any more like baggage than he already does. He needs to prove his own.

"No-no. Thank you, but I'm fine," he protests but Gailien takes nothing from his words, tying the strings up around his neck. The rain hits her more than before, soaking her back and legs.

"You look like you need it more than I do, Bilbo," she says, smiling warmly through the rain. Droplets hang from her nose and chin as her hair sticks to her face. "It will keep you warm as well as dry." She would know, already feeling the cold air and water rippling across her skin. Goosebumps rise, making her hair stand on end but it is almost invisible to see through the rain.

Bilbo resigns, already feeling slightly warmer. He pulls the hood up over his head. "Thank you," he tells her sheepishly.

Gailien nods at his gratitude and goes to say something more but her words get caught in her throat. Her eyes glaze over, not focusing on anything in the present. Her grip on the reins doesn't falter but her balance does, having no sense of the place she is physically in for her mind is somewhere in the future.

Not being able to balance, even with stiff limbs, she slides off the side of the saddle. Her body slumps in the mud, coating her clothes as the rain continues to pelt her other side. Bilbo gasps, pulling his pony to a stop, halting the ones behind him as well.

His words stumble for a moment. "G-uh. Ah, T-Thorin!" The King, hearing his name called in a panic quickly halts his pony and the other half of the company. "It's Gailien, she's fallen!"

Fili, who was riding behind Bilbo has already dismounted. He trudges through the mud, kneeling down beside the girl. Her eyes are open, not moving from a spot in front of her. Thorin kneels down on the other side of her, tapping her cheek as Bilbo watches them from his pony.

"She's seeing something, uncle," Fili observes. Thorin chews his tongue, thinking about his options. He can not wait for the girl to come around. They need to continue on, and this is no place to stop.

"Get her back on her horse," he orders. Fili frowns, glancing at his uncle.

"Are you sure. I don't know if it's safe to move her," he argues. Thorin looks over his shoulder to the grey wizard, waiting for his input. Thorin, however much dislike he has for the woman, is not going to go out of his way to bring her harm.