A Tale of Time

Chapter 5: Guilt

Chapter 5: Guilt

Gailien's room is gorgeous. A high ceiling that follows the same angle of the arch that the top of her doors have. A large bed lies in the centre of the back wall, covered in a silky green blanket. When she first entered, she found her pack placed against the base of it, along with a wooden carving of a bird. It had been Bofur's latest that he had been occupying himself with while in Erebor. She doesn't know who gave it to her, but she is forever grateful, especially after losing the bear.

The Dwarven healer assigned to her is, fortunately, Oin himself (though she doubts this is just coincidence).

Her wardrobe is full of Dwarvish garments, but it is obvious that Thorin has picked out what is in there as the style and fit are exactly what she would have picked out. Mostly pants and blouses, but a few dresses that are simple but elegant.

Dwalin must have said something convincing as nobody bothers her for hours. She lies on the bed, almost sinking into the pile of pillows. In fact, she is so relaxed and comforted by both the bed and being back in Erebor with the Dwarves that an unexpected vision hits her.

As soon as she comes back to the present, she flings her legs off the bed in anticipation. Her chest and back scream at her and she clutches her hand over her front. A small moan passes her lips as she hunches forward, waiting for the pain to ebb away. Before it completely does, she is already back on her feet, walking as fast as she can towards her door.

A smile grows on her face as it comes closer, already hearing footsteps walking slowly through the hall outside. Her hand rests around the metal knob and she pulls it back, almost smacking her own face.

Fili stands on the other side, his clenched hand raised as though to knock. His other hand is wrapped around a staff similar to Thorin's. Gailien doesn't speak, nor letting him as she jumps forward, tightly winding her arms around his neck.

The staff drops from his hand, clinking against the stone floor as both of his arms wrap around her torso. They're both in pain, and they both know it, but no amount of pain could stand above the relief that they are feeling.

He rests his forehead on her collarbone, his shoulders shaking slightly as Gailien presses a hard kiss to the side of his head. "I'm so sorry," he whispers into her shirt. "I can never say that enough."

"Fee, you practically saved my life," Gailien counters, pulling his head back up. Fili looks at her with a doubtful expression – as though she is just telling him what he wants to hear, but it isn't the case.

"You were dying in my arms," he chokes out incredulously. "From my arrow. I think that's the opposite of saving someone."

Gailien smiles softly, her fingers brushing back the blonde strands of hair that have fallen over his face. "Bolg was going to snap my neck," she says. "I couldn't breathe, I could barely see. I had seconds until you shot that arrow. It may have missed its mark, but it gave me enough time to live. If you hadn't had shot that arrow, I would most certainly be dead."

Fili looks down at his shoes, not smiling but she can see the tension in his face softening.

"Besides, I broke your leg technically," she teases, squeezing his arm. "Consider it even?"

Fili coughs out a laugh, shaking his head. "Barely." He bends down to pick up his dropped crutch but Gailien bends down faster, noting his balance on one leg. "Thank you. How are you feeling?"

"A little sore," she shrugs. "But healing well. Surprisingly well honestly. Why don't you come in for a while and rest your leg? Bilbo tells me that you've barely stopped working."