Chapter 8: False Foretelling
Thorin stares at the grey sky as the morning sun barely seeps through the gaps of the thick softness. The camp is being packed back up and they are almost ready to move. Gailien notices the King standing on the edge of the drop-off. He seems lost in thought.
She walks over to him slowly, stepping over the packs not yet put on the horses. Thorin does not speak up as he notices her presences, which Gailien takes as a good enough sign.
"It seems my vision was right," she muses in a light tone. "I think rain isn't far off."
"Rain will not slow us," Thorin replies, still not looking at the girl. His eyes drift over the horizon, taking in the plains. Gailien turns her eyes to him though, gauging him but there is nothing for him to give her. Eventually, she shrugs slightly, looking back out over the horizon as he does.
"No, but it makes the journey uncomfortable."
Finally, Thorin veers his own head towards her, tilting it down slightly. His eyes narrow in a mix of boredom and annoyance. "If rain makes you uncomfortable then maybe you do not belong here. Go back to the comforts of your home."
Gailien's face drops slightly, a little hurt at his indifference to her presence. Her attempt to draw him into a light conversation is failing miserably. But she is here now and would carry it out. "Unfortunately, I do not have a home to go to." Thorin's head turns ever so slightly back to her out of the pull of his eyes. Gailien smiles sadly. "I stay here and there for awhile then move on once I get bored."
"Where do you go?"
Gailien hides her smile at Thorin's interest. Perhaps he is asking out of politeness, but he does not strike her as the type to be nice for the sake of formality. He doesn't need to be, she supposes. He can command respect through other means.
Gailien is slightly envious at his ability to do so, a natural leader. Her presence alone has never done her any good and it has forced her into being overly polite, mostly in the company of elves. But even then, she has never been able to earn their respect.
She glances back over her shoulder to the dwarves. Kili and Fili are packing their ponies along with her own. She did not even need to make an effort for them to speak to her. Ori and Bofur as well. Her life would have been so different is she was born a dwarf, though she is not sure how she would handle the facial hair.
Her eyes blink a few times as her head returns straight, realising she has not answered the King's question. "Anywhere," she responds. "I was in Gondor for many years, but I've been in the wild for the most recent ones. Where were you before Gandalf found you?"
Her question is a risk, asking a King a personal question. But alas, he does answer. "Same as you. I was on the road working as a blacksmith. Gandalf found me in Bree." Thorin looks over his own shoulder as Dwalin calls his name.
"We're ready to move," the warrior dwarf declares. Thorin doesn't say anything to end their conversation, just walking away back to his own pony. Gailien smiles to herself, following his lead and saunters over to Kili and Fili who are holding theirs and her ponies. She takes the reigns from Fili.
"Thank you," she says to them. Kili smirks, mounting his pony.
"Wouldn't want Thorin to be pissed when you hold everybody up because you haven't packed yet," he cheeks. Fili and Gailien laugh, also mounting. Her cloak is tied around her in anticipation of the oncoming weather, and she can see that the brothers are also dressed warmly and in their coats.
"Well luckily I have you two looking out for me then," she teases, nudging her horse to pass them.
"Just returning the favour!"
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.
"She will be fine," Gandalf says, nodding to the King. "There is no danger in moving her."
Thorin nods to his nephew, silently confirming his order. Fili clenches his jaw, not feeling good about moving her but he has no choice and if they wizard says it is fine, then Fili trusts his judgement. Gandalf has known Gailien for longer than all of them after all.
Fili scoops the girls up and out of the mud, struggling as her body is stiff rather than limp and placid. It makes it harder for the dwarf to move her around, but he manages, placing her stomach over the saddle. Ensuring she is secure enough, he mounts his own pony, holding both his and her reigns to lead her pony.
Thorin who is already back in his own saddle waits for his nephew to finish then renews the company's movement. A few dwarves spare looks at the girl as Fili holds her pony close in case she starts to slip again. Kili rides up on her other side, nodding to his brother in a silent acknowledgement to help.
After a few minutes pass, Gailien at last is able to bring her mind into the present. She grunts in disorientation, grasping the edge of the saddle. Her breathing becomes escalated at what she has just seen. It was no random image.
"You alright?"
Gailien lifts her head to find Kili's concerned gaze meeting her own. She nods, pushing herself up to an upright seat in the saddle. She searches for the reigns, finding them in the older brother's hands. She takes them back, giving Fili and appreciative smile but it does not stay on her lips for long.
"Yes, I'm fine but I need to speak with Thorin."
One side of her body feels icky and heavy, covered in mud but luckily the rain is still heavy enough that it begins to wash off. She canters up the side of the company all the way up to Gandalf and Thorin who are naturally in the lead.
"Gailien, what is that you saw?" Gandalf inquires as the horse's hoofs slush in the mud, making her entrance rather noisy. Thorin waits for her to speak but he has an inkling that he will not like the words to leave her lips. Her eyes dart around to him and Gandalf, her cheeks rosy and her posture in disarray.
"I saw...Trolls," she stammers out. "Mountain trolls." She knows how unbelievable it sounds, considering trolls are found nowhere near their intended path, not with how south they are travelling. Thorin huffs, also thinking the same thing.
"This far from Ettenmoors?" He objects. "Not likely."
Gandalf is not so quick as the dismiss their Seer's foretelling. She is not yet powerful enough to see much beyond her own path. That is why she has had to accompany them after all, and not just provide counsel in passing. If she has seen trolls, they are on a possible path that will meet with them.
"What exactly did you see?" he presses. Thorin doesn't argue, listening.
Gailien's brows furrow as she remembers everything that passes through her mind just minutes ago. "They...they were travelling down. They made camp in the open, but I think they had a cave nearby."
"When is this supposed to come by?" Thorin asks. Maybe it is foolish of him to put her knowledge aside so quickly. However, Gailien isn't able to give him the answer he needs or wants.
"I don't know," she answers quietly. Her fingers fiddle with the reigns. "I'm not shown when these things come to pass, only that there is a possibility of them doing so."
"And the company? Did you seem them with the dwarves?"
"...No"
That is enough for Thorin, in his mind, to fully dismiss it. He needn't worry for trolls do not venture this far south as he had mentioned earlier, and the woman has no idea if it will be in two hours or two months. Then to add that she had not seen the company near the trolls – why, it a useless foretelling for him.
"Then I do not believe we should worry," he declares. His words are not harsh, but Gailien can't help but feel a short stab in her chest. She is worrying. Gandalf also shares her views.
"We shall keep an eye out for any sign of trolls," the wizard says, sparing a pointed look at the Dwarf King. Thorin nods, more so to satisfy the wizard and Seer so that they will not pester him any further.
Gailien observes that she is no longer needed, or likely welcome at the lead of the company and resigns back to the single file that the rest of the company has fallen into. She runs the vision through her mind again, hoping something else that is useful will make itself clear. Her intentions are not to prove Thorin wrong, but to prove her own usefulness besides a weather report.
"You look a little distraught, lass."
Her chin lifts as she falls in line with Bofur who talks to her loudly to be heard over the rain. Her eyebrow quirks for a moment with a pathetic laugh escaping from her lips. So, she looks exactly how she feels then.
"Just hate being wet," she replies, seeing no need to worry the other members of the company if their leader is not. She will not be the cause of argument. Cupping her hand to the sky, a small puddle of water forms in her palm and fingers. She lowers it to her neck, splashing it over and begins to rub her skin. The mud mixes, creating a water mixture that washes off with ease.
"Here, Mr Gandalf?" Dori who is riding in front of Gailien and Bofur speaks up. "Can't you do something about the deluge?" A puff of her blows out of her nose. If only, she wishes.
"It is raining, master dwarf. And it will continue to rain until the rain is done!" Gandalf declares. "If you wish to change the weather of the world, you should find yourself another wizard."
Bilbo, though is slightly warmer than the rest of those around him, still wishes for nothing more at this moment than to be in Bag End near a warm fire. "Are there any?" he asks.
"What?"
"Other wizards?"
Bofur tries once again to smoke his pipe but the rain just continues to soak the thing. He sulks, stashing the pipe back away under his coat.
"There are five of us. The greatest of our order is Saruman, The White. Then there are two blue wizards." He pauses for a moment in thought. Gandalf has not spoken or heard about the two blue wizards that he has almost forgotten about their existence. "Do you know, I've quite forgotten their names."
Gailien listens with interest, loving tales from the mouths of others. She would love to read books but travelling light means that there is often not enough space in her pack to keep any. Back in Mirkwood, she was often found in the library through the middle of the night reading books on war history. The servants had been distraught knowing that the girl was reading things with such gruesome details.
"And who is the fifth?" Bilbo asks, hunching over slightly to cover himself even more from the rain.
"Well, that would be Radagast, the Brown," Gandalf answers. Thorin's ears twitch at the familiar name. They will be crossing paths with another wizard? He supposes that is not an entirely dreadful thing to happen. As long as he doesn't intend to prevent them from continuing.
Without thinking about his next words, or maybe he does but just does not care, Bilbo asks "Is he a great wizard or is he...more like you?"
Gailien barely manages to stifle her laughter, ending in a choking cough instead. Bofur snorts from beside her and even Thorin up ahead has a twitch in his lips from the hobbit's words. Bilbo is oblivious to the reaction his question elicits and awaits an answer from the wizard who is grumbling offendedly.
"I think he's a very great wizard, in his own way. He's a gentle soul who prefers the company of animals to others. He keeps a watchful eye over the vast forestlands to the East. And a good thing too, for always evil will look to find a foothold in this world."
Gailien, much like Bilbo, can't stop the next words coming out of her mouth. She is completely aware of their offence though. "Radagast is my favourite wizard," she declares loudly so Gandalf has no trouble hearing her. Her tone implies that she is speaking to the company in general, but her words are aimed at Gandalf. Of course, Radagast is definitely not her favourite out of the two wizards she has met but Gandalf's reaction is worth it. He scowls at her with narrowing eyes over his shoulder. Thorin, though it is hidden from the company, cannot help but break into a small fit of laughter under his breath.