Chapter 13: Pieces of her Heart

Thorin is not with Thranduil for long. He returns, huffing, throwing his shoulders against the Elves' grips. Gailien watches with a sullen face as he is thrown in a cell on the opposite side, on the next level up. His hair is dishevelled, evidence of the spiders' home still tangled, and his outer cloaks have been stripped away as well. Orcrist. They have taken his gifted sword.

"Did he offer you a deal?" Balin asks.

"He did," Thorin answers. A low raspy growl, a sure sign of his frustration. "I told him he could go ishkh khakfe andu null. Him and all his kin!" The latter part of his words raises in volume and the Khazadul rings out through the caverns.

Her nose and eyes sting. She frowns, pushing away from the cell bars. She does not usually count herself among her race and Thorin knows this but only an hour or so ago she had called them her kin. A mistake, but one her instincts made. She doesn't even know what his words mean but the poison they are spat with doesn't it make it a hard guess at the insult they carry.

Because she is an Elf, whether she looks like one or not it is where she grew up. It is the culture she learnt and the realm her family belonged to. The very blood in her veins is the same as those that threw her in these cells.

Thorin looks over to Gailien's cell but she is no longer visible at the door. Gailien shrinks against the wall, folding her knees under her arms in the corner where the light doesn't reach. Her hand reaches up behind her head, running through her hair until the cool metal touches her skin.

She undoes the bead, letting the braid unfold itself and she holds it up for her eyes to examine once again. It was made for her – by Dwarf royalty no less. But it does not change the shape of her ears or her nature. Cold and cruel. She belongs to the race she condemns with her own tongue.

Where she felt the comfort of being with the company less than a day ago, she now feels the dreaded loneliness again. The one that she hasn't truly felt since the first hundred years of living in the wild. A part of her cannot help but think that she is on the wrong side of the bars, that she should be a part of Mirkwood's military as was her dream as a child.

But then she would not know the Dwarves. She would not know Kili's humour or Fili's kindness. She would not know Bofur's craftsmanship or Bombur's cooking. She would not know Dwalin's tough, but true nature and she certainly wouldn't know Bilbo Baggins and his habit of finding his way through sticky situations. She would not get to experience what she feels for Thorin.

But she is also faced with the inevitable truth that once this quest has been completed, she will no longer be able to stand by his side. He will have a kingdom to run and she will have the wild to return to. Or Bilbo. She would love to live in the Shire with him.

But for now, for now, she belongs with the band of misfit Dwarves. Holding the bead between her lips, she searches for the loose braid and begins tightening it, redoing the pattern once more and then threads the bead back into place.

But there are more important things than her own mind. Or rather, her mind is the important thing. Shaking her head, she straightens her back against the wall, crossing her legs underneath her and softly places her palms on each knee. Now that they are out of the forest, she should be able to once again use her gift as a Seer. Her breathing slows as her sense of reality is lost. She is pulled into a deep state, not even her pupils moving under her lids.

Around the prison, the Dwarves spend the night muttering to each other, throwing curses to the passing Elves and making talk about escape but there is no viable way to do so and they know this. Though Thorin's trust lies in the Hobbit – a creature he has come to learn to respect.

Kili even takes it upon himself to practice his Elvish. "Mibo orch!" he cries to a passing Elf. The Elf man looks a little surprised but holds his ground and passes without a retort. Kili grins nonetheless and peers up to Gailien's cell. "Gailien! I got to use it!" There is no response from her cell as she is seeing a vision of the river rapids that she loathes. "Gailien?"

"She is meditating, lad," Balin answers, the only Dwarf with a direct view into the cell. "She has been for the last day."

"The last day?" Thorin questions, leaning against the bar to peer down at Gailien's cell. "Is she having visions?"

Balin leans closer, trying to see if there is anything to tell. "Don't know. I would assume that she has been now that she's out of the forest. Not to worry, she will tell us when she can."

After another hour, Gailien is forced out of her visions. They were messy – hard to read and seemed to jump through time but there is one thing for sure that she has seen. She rises to her feet, sprinting to the cell door and she pushes herself against it.

"Legolas?!"

Her cry echoes through the cavern, waking a few Dwarves who don't have anything to do but sleep the day away. Thorin runs forward at the sound of her voice, panic rising as she calls desperately to the Blond prince.

"Oi!" Bofur calls out. "What is it, lass?"

"Is something happening?" Fili questions, also running forward. But outside their cells, there is nothing different except for the woman of their company waiting for a passing Elf. Gailien ignores the Dwarves' questions, focusing on the red-headed Elf that marches to her with a long stride.

"What do you want?" she spits.

"I need to speak with Legolas. I've seen something that he needs to know of," she pleas. Tauriel narrows her eyes.

"What do you mean you have seen something? Something here in the cells?"

"No." Gailien closes her eyes briefly, calming herself back down. "My name is Gailien, I'm a Seer. Please, at least tell Legolas that I asked for him."

Tauriel is silent for a moment, scrutinising the woman as she contemplates her options. She had seen the two's interaction earlier and does not have any doubt whether the two know each other. Her name offers a faint memory, spoken to her in passing by has never met the person it belonged to herself. Finally, she nods once and then continues walking along.

Gailien sighs, leaning away from the door until her back rests against the wall. While she does not care particularly for the outcome of her vision on Mirkwood, if they are prepared and take down the threat before it comes, then they will have fewer enemies to face once they do escape.

Though, the Orcs do provide a distraction to the Elves. Maybe that is what allows them to – maybe she should not be fiddling with the future at all. But she clearly saw the arrow in Kili's leg and if she can stop that from happening then she must try.

"Gailien? Is everything alright?"

Thorin. Gailien smiles softly at his voice which is smooth again, the way she loves to hear. She lets the small smile drop as she turns back around to the cell doors. "It's fine, Thorin. I know Legolas well and I just…saw something that had to do with him." She curses herself for lying once more but if she can change things, then there will be no need for them to know. It is her burden to bear.

"You know that pathetic excuse of an Elf well?" Fili scoffs. "No wonder you left."

Gailien snorts, falling down to her backside as she presses up against the cell door. "Actually, he is the only reason I would have ever stayed in this place. As much as a shock it may seem, he can be pleasant company when you do not insult him. My father wished for me to marry him. Our family was slowly losing any respect it once held and for their daughter to marry a Prince…well it was too good an opportunity."

"But you didn't?" Thorin asks, his eyes planted on the floor, only drifting up after his question to see her response.

Gailien shakes her head. "No, I was much too young to even be in that mindset at the time."

"And what about now?"

Gailien tilts her head up, letting it rest against the small stone slather next to the hinges of the door. Thorin holds a stony expression, watching the woman carefully. She doesn't answer for a minute, wanting to be both careful with her words yet glaringly obvious, hoping that he would pick the meaning which would mean the least humiliation to her if she is alone in her feelings.

"I no longer have my heart to give him. It belongs to another."

Instant regret floods her stomach. She blinks, shifting her gaze back down to the bland floor of her cell. What if that was too obvious and he does not share the same feelings? Or he does but she is insinuating that it is not him.

"Did you meet this lad through your travels?" Bofur asks from the cell next to hers. The toymaker Dwarf is as bored as anything. Gailien contemplates answering but she wants to talk about him – it is only natural.

"I did."

"Well, what's he like then? Give us the details!" Bofur demands.

Gailien laughs softly, a bashful smile pulling at her lips. "He is…quite the character. I'm sure you'd all like him. Maybe a little rough around the edges but he has a large heart." She looks down into the prison, catching Fili's eye. He only cocks a brow, smirking slightly through his braided beard. She pulls her gaze away, letting it drift softly over the company that she can see as she continues to talk. "And an even larger attitude." Her eyes drift over to Thorin, but she doesn't dare let them linger – not even long enough to read his face.

"And after this quest, are you going to go back to him?" Bofur asks after a pregnant silence.

"No," she answers simply. "He is not in a place that I can stay. I was thinking that I might ask Bilbo to let me stay with him for a while. In the Shire I mean."

"If he's not dead in that accursed forest," Dwalin growls. Gailien doesn't comment on that, keeping the idea that Bilbo has made it somewhere safe. Perhaps he is looking for a way to reach them this very moment.

Thorin has her heart. Almost the entirety of it and she isn't quite sure when or how that happened. Gailien believes that is happened moment by moment. He took the first piece when he walked through the green round door belonging to their burglar – the piece that clings to his voice. Then the night where Balin told Thorin's story – the piece that clings to his strength. The little moments and the big, slowly chipping away at her until the Dwarf now unknowingly holds the tiny pieces in his hand where he can either mend them together or shatter them even more.

Slowly her eyes lift to Thorin, but he is not looking at her. He is not even visible; retreated into the shadows of his confinements. He has no interest in listening to her words which is dismaying but not unexpected.

"Tell me about your wife, Gloin!" she calls out, but her eyes don't wander from Thorin's cell. Gloin begins rambling on about his family, his wife and son whom he speaks very highly of. Gailien doesn't focus much on his words, too many things running through her mind. If Bilbo does not arrive soon, she may have to think of a way out herself. Perhaps she can make a deal on Thorin's behalf – a thought she loathes and knows that he will forever hold against her but if it could ensure their safe passage…

As Gloin finally begins the run out of things to say, Legolas, accompanied by two guards march up to her cell.

"Legolas," she breathes. "I need to speak with you."

"It is not me you'll be speaking to," he answers, giving her a short look of warning. "My father requests your presence."

"Thranduil?"

She lets go of the bars, taking a few long strides back into the shadows. What would Thranduil even want to speak to her about?

"Where are you taking her?" Thorin returns into the light, his face pressing against the bars as Legolas enters her cell. Nobody answers him as the blond Elf guides her out, leaving a firm hand on her shoulder – a warning not to do anything stupid. "You will tell me where you are taking her!"

"I do not need to tell you anything, Dwarf," Legolas hisses. "You were given your chance to speak."

And then Gailien is escorted out of the prison area, sharing a worried glance with Kili as she passes him.