A Tale of Time

Chapter 1: The White Tent

Chapter 1: The White Tent

Gailien wakes long before her eyes open but it feels like melted gold has been poured over them and solidified them shut. Every breath is a slow release of pain, flaring in both her chest and throat. She can hear the mumble of people, around her in all directions.

At first, nothing is on her mind except for herself: what she hears, smells, feels. She feels every spot the blanket over her touches, and what muscles hurt when she even shifts her weight in the cot. She can hear feet shuffling around her head, people's words turning they a muffled echo as it travels from her ears to her mind. And she smells an assortment of things. Blood, herbs, alcohol.

Her mind flutters between awake and asleep but her eyes remain closed. It is hard to even tell when she has fallen back into slumber, only able to sense any difference when she has foreign hands on her, touching and prodding. They're an annoyance at most, but each time they come, her pain lessens for an unknown amount of time. But then other times they don't even prod her, they just touch her – her arm, her head her leg. At first, she hated them, wanting nothing more than to shake the extra weight but soon it becomes a comfort – it must be somebody that she knows.

As her eyes finally open, she isn't greeted with strangers standing over her. She lies in a cot in a large white tent. Or she guesses that it is larger than it looks as a white sheet hangs about two meters in front of her, blocking her sight from the rest of it. And there, sitting on a small wooden chair is Bilbo Baggins, reading quietly to himself. A small leather-bound book perched on his crossed knee. Gailien smiles softly, recognising it as the book the Ori has been documenting their travels in.

Underneath them, the ground is still grass and Gailien realises that there is no way she is in Erebor. But that is no matter – if Bilbo is here then the Dwarves are at least nearby. The Dwarves.... Gailien's eyes close again as she remembers how she saw Kili's chest cave as he looked to Tauriel's body. Opening them, she looks back over to Bilbo.

"B...Bilbo?"

The top of Bilbo's book drops down onto his leg, his neck and head perking up over it. His open mouth turns into a warm smile as he sees Gailien's open eyes, fluttering around. Shutting his book, he places it on the seat and shuffles over to her cot. "I'm glad to see you awake," he greets.

"I'm glad to be it," she croaks out, her throat burning. Wincing, she raises a hand to it, barely touching the skin before it sends a jolt of pain through her. Bilbo softly guides her hand away.

"It's bruised pretty bad," he explains. "They said you probably shouldn't talk too much."

"They?"

"The Elves," Bilbo answers, throwing a look over his shoulder. "Legolas brought you down from Ravenhill about a week ago. You were in pretty bad shape and I think we did lose you for a moment, but the Elves have some pretty awesome healing skills," he adds, throwing in a small laugh in wonder.

Gailien nods, frowning slightly. She had fully expected to not wake up again, it almost feels wrong. It is wrong. She shouldn't be alive right now. Tauriel doesn't deserve the way her life ended – she didn't make the choice. But Gailien had, and yet it was taken away from her. Gailien chose to go to battle knowing that she was going to die and yet she didn't. How is that fair?

"I shouldn't be here," she whispers. Her head starts swivelling around, as though trying to find any cracks in the world to show her that it is not reality.

Bilbo's mouth opens and closes a few times, trying to find something to say. "We're near Dale," he says carefully, assuming that is the problem. "Thranduil has a camp set up to help the wounded and the rest of Dale. The Dwarves are allowed down here, Kili comes all the time, and Thorin does when he can. I-I'm sure once you can walk, we can go back up to Erebor."