Durion
Man
Gondorian Calvary
[Mo0:0]
Posts: 72
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Post by Durion on Sept 2, 2009 17:45:18 GMT -5
Durion had not missed Dervorin’s deep glare of hatred, or indeed that of Faeldor. His lips curled slightly. By just walking into a room full of people, he could irritate both of them into a sublime show of nerves and fury. And they thought the only control he could exercise was over the ladies. They were just as influenced by him as they. For a moment, the man wondered if that had ever crossed their minds. Still, such a thought was short lived, for Rosiel seemed unable to stay silent any longer.
It seemed she had seen Faeldor herself, for she commented on how handsome and regal he looked, and how the lady that was with him was a sleeper and did not deserve to be there. He sighed audibly and rolled his eyes. “Come now. You shall have your time with him.” He said impatiently. It remained to be seen as to when, but Durion was sure to prod Faeldor to the end of his nerves. Indeed, such a setting was perfect for it. He could do nothing to harm him under the watchful eye of the Steward or the Captains. Still, now was not a proper time to address him.
He would save the best for last.
Though, getting rid of Rosiel sooner rather than later would be the most beneficial to his own sanity. He let his eyes flick back, then, to the first to offer horrid looks of digust to him this night. Might as well start with a cavalier.
He led Rosiel, though she was entirely unwilling to move out of line of sight of Faeldor, over to Dervorin. “Master Dervorin,” he called nonchalantly. “I did not think that you would be here this evening! I had heard you could not find someone to take, though perhaps that was on purpose.” He glanced sideways to see Gilwen and then back to the tall man before him.
It was not hard to see. It was in the very way he had looked at her that day that he had seen them in the courtyard—even under the presence of the princess! How blind Gilwen must be to not see it, though a part of him reveled in the fact that he could now use such information to his own device. “She does look lovely, doesn’t she?” Durion commented aside, motioning to Gilwen with a nod of his head.
“Do not think me rude,” he began, though his smile clearly said this was all a lie, “I would have thought you would have asked her to attend with you. You both seemed rather close when I saw you in the courtyard.”
Rosiel’s interest seemed to pique for a moment, and she looked up at the face of the tall knight. Gilwen, close to another man? The harlot! Completely undeserving of Faeldor, for certain.
Durion was pleased. He had, of course, read into the relationship Gilwen had with this Dervorin, though was still careful to not outright say a thing. He was testing the waters, and watching his eyes and face carefully. He was reading and waiting for even the slightest glimpse that anything he said held truth.
OOC: Sorry for the cut, I just want to make sure nobody talked to him first. Hahaha.
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Post by Princess Miroesa on Sept 3, 2009 8:28:56 GMT -5
“Lady Miroesa,” Miroesa smiled brightly at the man sitting before her. Sure many people would think of he had changed since the death of his wife-even she was thinking that but that still didn’t change his status of steward of Gondor and a lovely man. (Although, she could call pretty strange and ugly things…). She let him take her hand for she was raised that way, and that she owned the greatest respect for the man he was.
“It is mere tradition that brings us all together this evening. I hope you enjoy yourself.”
She nodded at his words. “I promise I will!” she mused brightly.
Miroesa then, turned to see her cousin at Boromir, and gave him an other smile. She so wanted to do everything at the moment! Talk with the people, dance, eat…though, eating she could do that later. First, talk! She wanted to see if lady Gilwen was there too…well, she wasn’t really a lady but still, even if she was a servant, this girl was quite lovely!
She bowed slightly at Boromir once he had kissed her hand and placed her hand lightly onto his arm. So, where to go now? There were just so many people, she didn’t know who to go see first, even thought she wanted to see the servant Gilwen, there were still a lot of people she would have to meet, but she didn’t mind. She liked the socializing part of a dance and all. Who knows, she’d probably find that handsome knight Dervorin! He was so cute and tall to add at that-it wouldn’t be hard to find him either but for Gilwen who was as small as her, and probably prettier than ever, it would be hard to look for her for there would be many pretty ladies out there. Where to start? She frowned slightly wondering about it until she noticed the familiar tallest figure of Gondor DERV! Her eyes lit up a bit, maybe he would help her find Gilwen too! It’ll be fun.
At that, she lead Boromir to see the knight that had caught most of her attention so far and a certain admiration towards him. She wished he would recognize her somehow. She walked along with Boromir through the crowd but still wasn’t close enough for Dervorin to hear her-there were so many chattering around! It was like a town center! Maybe if she called him. “Dervorin! Dervorin!” she said hoping she was calling his name loud enough. Yes, for he probably knew Gilwen longer than she did, there were no ways he wouldn’t recognize the brunette in the crowd!
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Narbeleth
Man
Midwife
Laugh as much as you breath, and love as long as you live.[Mo0:0]
Posts: 143
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Post by Narbeleth on Sept 3, 2009 10:16:10 GMT -5
"I am not implying that we should have matched," Beleth retorted. "It makes no difference whether one matches their partner or not. I was just stating that I would never even consider the fact of asking you to wear pink to any formal event. It would not be very becoming of you. A huntsman must wear colors that blend into his surroundings; even at a gathering such as this I would expect no less of you," the woman stated, eyeing the man dressed in all black. “It does seem he is mourning this event. Perhaps I should meet him.”
"Oh no you should not meet him,” she instructed. “He is too somber to be your friend. You would be entirely bored, and only be looking for a way to escape. No, excitement cannot be fueled by somber boredom, I am sure you know that.” She turned with Calon to the table of wines, eying him as they walked. He obviously did not wish to be here tonight, and had been subtly, or not so subtly, hinting at it since they had met in the stables. He was clearly not a dancer either, for he had altogether ignored the comment she had made on dancing. Narbeleth was quite confident though that the stablehand would enjoy himself this evening.
The man’s comment on the strength of drink amused the lady, and her eyes showed such. He seemed to survey the table and his face hardly even fell when he realized that nothing but wine was being served. Beleth was about to answer his question when she caught a new look in her escort’s eye. For the first time in the evening Calon’s bright smiled had disappeared, and Narbeleth’s eyes searched for what had caused the disturbance in her delightful escort. The moment that the flash of silver shirt caught her eye, she wrinkled her nose, and her grip upon her escort’s arm strengthened unintentionally, just knowing who Calon was looking at. She glanced in his direction for some moments as well, then looked back to Calon; her own blood fueling some of her anger to her eyes. “That man is foul, and he would attempt to ruin everyone’s evening,” she muttered low.
After Durion’s outburst in her home, Narbeleth had set herself in general dislike of the man. It was difficult for the young lady to dislike anyone; for she believed well that attitude was determined by circumstances. Though, in some occasions attitude could become out of control. Durion fed off the pain of others and his own pleasure; that had become clear.
He had infuriated her brother ever since he had started in the Calvary, for lack of care of the horses. Even as a child, Faeldor had hated him. The man had lost sweet Gilwen her reputation, and her father’s job. And her dear sister; what had Durion done to her? Narbeleth knew; and perhaps at this time she was the only one to know aside from Durion himself. He had abandoned her, and at a wretched time when a woman should never feel abandonment. She wondered what he may have done to Calon. Or any of the others in this room; it was certainly not only her family who had been affected by him. “I hope he should ask me to dance, that I might stomp on his foot.”
Beleth pressed her lips together in discontent, then looked back to Calon. “Red… I would prefer red wine.” She took just a moment to calm herself, and released Calon’s arm to allow him to get the drinks. “If you desire, we can stay near the wine tables for a time with our mingling. Then you might make up for lack of strength in drink,” she smiled. Durion’s presence would not cause her evening to be ruined. That was certain. And perhaps after Calon had taken a bit of wine, she would remind him of the dancing. Oh, she did love to dance! She felt her heart lighten slightly at the thought of the new challenge at her side. This young lady would see to it that he both enjoyed himself and gave her a few dances this evening.
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Gilwen
Man
servant
There are times when silence has the loudest voice.[Mo0:0]
Posts: 593
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Post by Gilwen on Sept 3, 2009 14:51:18 GMT -5
"Your eyes alone speak for you, my Gilwen. I know."
She smiled slightly. At least it was not from a mistrust he held for her from the rumors that would cause him to be jealous. It must be then, that Faeldor was simply a possessive man, who desired to protect her and keep her close. “Then I shall dance with them,” she replied evenly and calmly as he told her of sharing her for dances. “But just because I dance with them does not mean they have my heart.” Her smile softened as he spoke of bringing her back to his garden to dance with her there, alone.
“I would think it a wonderful idea,” she murmured quietly. “But that you said we should not be alone.” Her cheeks tinged pink, though her eyes stayed calm enough. She could not explain why, though it did seem that some gentleness had taken her so well that nerves had no chance to display themselves.
"Beleth has made it in now. But I seem to be missing Miriel."
She saw him frown and begin to look over the crowd, and with a frown of her own she did the same. Yes, Beleth was over by the drinks, now. But where was the lovely Miriel? It seemed entirely strange, for she would not wish to miss this; it was an opportunity to show her sheer beauty. Still, her own mothering instincts bade her calm and soothe the man before her first. “I am sure she shall arrive shortly. No doubt she would have taken more care in preparations.” Her eyes, though, did not leave the crowd as she spoke the words. It was then she saw Durion. She almost exclaimed that they should not worry for her, for her escort had arrived. But it was not Miriel who was upon his arm; Rosiel, in grand and lavish dress was in her place. Something in her stomach hardened, and she tore her eyes away pointedly, and instead laid them upon Faeldor.
She could feel his body tense, and it made her frown a bit. She moved her hands to lay them upon his upper arm, and squeezed it slightly to release his tension. “Faeldor…” "I am certain that I should not contain myself if I get near him. Do your best to keep me away from them for the evening."
He fingered a tendril of hair, before brushing the side of her neck tenderly. “I will,” it was not as if she desired to see the man, after all. Her calm words dropped low, and the woman looked up to catch his eye once more. If Faeldor desired to act upon any of these feelings, she would be unable to stop him. She was not strong nor large enough to halt his motions. So, she thought she would mother him a bit as he stood there. “But Fael,” she cautioned. “Do not let him bother you.” She offered him a smile and squeezed his arm lovingly. “You are a better man than he.”
Then she sought quickly to change the subject, so that his muscles might lose their tension and he might once again truly smile. They were at the ball! Surely something could be done with means of conversation. She noticed the princess rocket away from the steward and begin making her way to through the crowd. It was impossible to miss her hair, for most of the attendants had dark hair like her own, but her eyes lingered on the Steward for some moments. She seemed lost for a moment, her heart overwrought with pity and sadness for the man; he was lonely, certainly. But more than this, he gave himself little time for anything other than dealings with Mordor.
She shook herself free of all of these thoughts and turned back to Faeldor. It seemed her quiet nature was beginning to bother little Gilwen, for she did want to speak and pry Faeldor's mind from the thoughts of the loathsome man that just marched into the room. Frustration with herself that caused her to squeeze him slightly. "What is it that you would desire to do first?" It was a pitiful excuse of a subject change, and it was clear the woman understood and was upset by this. Still, she would not have him in a foul mood. It was his birthday, after all. Her voice had remained light and cheery enough, despite her inward struggle with herself; though the words were a bit softer than she would have liked. But Faeldor, who was growing ever more attentive with the passing days to her quietness would have no problem understanding her.
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Faeldor
Man
Head Stablemaster
Do we walk in legends or on the green earth in the daylight?[Mo0:1]
Posts: 556
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Post by Faeldor on Sept 3, 2009 22:34:25 GMT -5
“But just because I dance with them does not mean they have my heart.” “I understand. I will simply miss you when you are away. To know that you are so close, yet in the grasp of another man,” Faeldor smiled, speaking dramatically, yet being serious at the same time. “And you have not even seen my garden yet; it is quite lovely. I do not think that we should worry about going there. It is right behind my mother’s house afterall. And lovely at night. Like you, my Starlight. I think most of our time together has been spent at night. The only thing that could be lovelier… well... would be to have you dressed as such, and dancing in Fela Isilme.” The man almost laughed at the thought; he would barely be able to stand it, he knew. Such loveliness. Faeldor could not help but let his hand slip to brush the silk at Gilwen’s waist for just a moment.
Durion though; he did well to distress the man, and even as Gilwen attempted to calm him down. She was pressing on his arm, and leaning close to him. Dear Gilwen, who could say such things; after all the man had done to her family. Was she not bothered by him herself? His tension did not ease, for he only grew more upset. The stable master’s face remained calm, though his eyes told the truth of the matter.
The man obviously enjoyed the attention he was getting; for a smile that was certainly fake crossed his face as soon as Faeldor caught his eye once more. And Rosiel! She was staring at him as if he were some sort of dish to be passed around a feast. He could not stand such eyes on him, and he turned his attention back to Gilwen immediately. She was attempting to change the conversation and draw away from the fact that Durion would certainly attempt some sort of foul behavior this evening. Well, Faeldor would not allow it if had any say in the matter. Durion was one man that would not lay hands on his Gilwen, nor even words.
Even as he had tried to draw his thoughts away from the man who had just entered, Faeldor found himself back in them; though Gilwen interrupted him once more. "What is it that you would desire to do first?" Faeldor acted as if he needed to think about this question for some moments, his eyes grazing over Gilwen softly as he thought, attempting to calm her as well as she had calmed him. “I think that I should like to dance with you.” He took her hand to pull her out onto the floor. The music was playing; and though most were still mingling and greeting one another, it would not hurt a thing to be the first couple dancing. Perhaps it would get the event started.
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Miriel
Man
Cook
Time engraves our faces with all the tears we have not shed.[Mo0:0]
Posts: 48
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Post by Miriel on Sept 3, 2009 23:14:57 GMT -5
The image of grace, Miriel stepped into the Great Hall. She had been looking forward to the ball for weeks now; for each of her family members, including herself, were well attuned to dance and music, and it was not often that they partook with others of the White City. Miriel’s dress had been arranged by a lovely dressmaker of the fifth tier, and it was right stunning. Dark green as her eyes, and elegant as any of the nobility at the ball.
The only difference in her usual appearance was that her eyes were tired, as if she had already spent hours here at the event, and as she stepped in, she did not seem so confident as she often carried herself. Her hand fluttered in front of her stomach, and she held it close against her, gripping the silken fabric. Heads turned as she entered; certainly for her own beauty. She was the loveliest of the children of Faelon. But to Miriel, the eyes were looking right though her. The hand still at her side clenched into a whitened fist, as if she were terrified, and her breath quickened.
Physically, the woman was no different in outward appearance, at least not yet anyway. It was far too early in her pregnancy for anyone to notice. Her stomach was smooth, and there was not a stitch in her dress that was out of place. Beleth had guessed; oh there was no fooling her sister. When one shares a room with a midwife in training, the odds of keeping the fact that one is with child secret are quite low. Indeed, grandmother would surely notice soon as well. Her sickness in the mornings attested to her condition, and the aches and fatigue were terrible. She had already spent some days home from her work, and her sister had suggested she remove herself from her position. Miriel had not yet the courage to face her own supervisor though.
When the young woman had entered, and heads had turned back to their conversations, Miriel slipped her way to the side. She did not know what to do with herself. Of course, it had been two weeks since the day that she had told Durion, and he had sent her away with only foul words and no assistance for her condition. She had somehow hoped he would have changed his mind. It was his own child afterall! Perhaps, in coming tonight, she would see him, or he would see her. The urge that he would still come to her door an escort her in had stuck with her, and she had waited long at home, in case her hopes had been deemed true. It was no avail though, for he did not show.
Miriel had steeled herself, and confirmed that she would just find Durion at the ball. She walked the way alone and unescorted, ascended the stone stairs, and entered. Now, here she was, sulking on the side of the room, and still alone. She sighed to herself. Her hand never left the front of her dress, still shamefully hiding her stomach, as she leaned back against one of the stone pillars.
She saw her brother, looking with utter adoration at a woman wearing the loveliest of dresses. It only took a moment of shock and awe before she realized that the little woman he was standing with was indeed Gilwen. The young woman bit her lip, looking at the two standing together, and knowing that they did make a fine match. Faeldor looked so happy, and Gilwen was beaming. She could not admit it to herself though. She frowned; wishing that she could go talk to her brother. At least then she would not be alone. Faeldor had always taken care of her, but now he was standing with Gilwen, and the green eyed woman was certain that if she approached the two, she would be sent away. At just the thought of it, she felt a sob catch itself in her throat.
Next her eyes searched for Beleth as well; sweet Beleth. Her younger sister was the only one who would stand by her, because she always had. Even as youths, Beleth had always been so vibrant and willing to love sour Miriel. When she spotted her over by the wine table, she was shocked at first that she was standing at the arm of a man. She had no idea who her escort was, or even that she was attending with someone. She wondered if her little sister had a suitor; and despised herself for not knowing. Beleth was always so concerned for Miriel, and always knew when and where she needed support or encouragement. But Miriel knew nothing of her sister; she rarely took the time to listen to her. The thought made her frown.
She was watching Narbeleth’s face, lost in an old thought, when she saw her sister grimace. Why would Beleth grimace? She was always so joyful, and she had been looking forward to this night for years! She had always wished to come to one of the palace balls. Her eyes followed Narbeleth’s gaze, and she saw where her attention had turned. Durion.
His smile was obscurely charming, and at his side was Rosiel. Her friend. Well did that not destroy everything?! Miriel fumed in anger, yet at the same time her chest felt like it was tearing away from itself in pain, and she wished to cry. Rosiel was clinging to the man as if she were a leech out to get his blood; but in truth, she was only drawing Miriel’s blood. How could Rosiel betray her in such a way! She had confided to her friend that Durion had sent her away; though she had not mentioned the reason for it. But now she was doing this just to spite her. Her teeth clenched, and she rubbed her eyes with a fist. Her stomach began to churn once more, and the young woman almost cried out. How could such an awful man make her to feel so horrible? Her heart felt as if it were ripping, and she struggled with her composure, teary emerald eyes blurring.
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Calon
Man
Stablehand
[Mo0:0]
Posts: 145
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Post by Calon on Sept 3, 2009 23:24:52 GMT -5
“He is too somber to be your friend. You would be entirely bored, and only be looking for a way to escape. No, excitement cannot be fueled by somber boredom, I am sure you know that.”
“Ah, somber boredom is not quite to my liking.” He flashed another blazing smile. “I much prefer excitement and the unexpected.” If only every day could be full of such things! Today certainly was, that was for certain. My, what a series of unexpected events! The Valar, certainly, had had their hand in it! This could not be by chance. And this lady was certainly vivacious enough to warrant adventures this evening. In fact, the next thing she spoke on solidified such an assumption.
It seemed Beleth had not lost sight of Calon’s face long enough to miss the passing of a frown over his fair face, and she soon followed his gaze, her body tensing and showing as much agitation as his own. “I hope he should ask me to dance, that I might stomp on his foot.” Calon raised his eyebrows and looked down upon the lady with a bemused and somewhat surprised expression. “Well then.” He seemed, for a moment, to be at a loss for words, though soon they caught up to him. “Then I do hope he shall come to you first with such requests. So that you may ruin his feet for the evening, and he will be unable to ruin the night of anyone here; indeed he will have to leave and tend to his toes.” The though amused Calon until he was laughing slightly. Oh! To see such a thing would make this the grandest night of his life. Durion had it coming, eventually. Nobody that devilish could escape unscathed forever.
“Red… I would prefer red wine.”
It was, perhaps, only her words that had caused Calon to drop his thoughts and recall what they were doing at the table, and he turned and smiled at one of the women behind the table and said easily, “Two red wines,” in a cheery and friendly tone.
The order was filled, and as he was waiting, Beleth filled the silence. “If you desire, we can stay near the wine tables for a time with our mingling. Then you might make up for lack of strength in drink.” Calon merely laughed heartily. “Bel, I do believe I can tackle tonight without needing such drink. But if I change my mind, I will merely come back.” He took the drinks with a nod and extended one to the lovely young woman.
He took a sip of it and sighed. Lovely taste. Clearly, some of Gondor’s finest wine. “This is a fine selection,” he mused aloud, holding the glass up for presentation. He flicked his blue eyes to Beleth to watch her reaction, though his eyes were drawn away by Durion once more. He was speaking to Dervorin, and was a bit closer than he would like. With a sharp exhale, he turned, putting his back between the loathsome man and young Beleth. Shielding her, and hiding him from his own sight.
Calon’s eye sparkled a bit though and he took another sip of the wine. “You know. This is nice enough I may have to take another glass.”
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Gilwen
Man
servant
There are times when silence has the loudest voice.[Mo0:0]
Posts: 593
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Post by Gilwen on Sept 3, 2009 23:51:55 GMT -5
“I understand. I will simply miss you when you are away. To know that you are so close, yet in the grasp of another man.”
Gilwen felt her smile widen a bit. It seemed rather dramatic! Still, she mused it simply meant that the Stable Master cared for her deeply; a fact that she was already quite aware of. And he was right. She had not yet seen his gardens! “Well, I have it on good authority that I must see them.” She replied easily. Marileth and Haliel had desired to show them to her, after all. “Though if we go tonight,” she caught her breath a bit and laughed slightly. “I will have to pretend to never have seen them the next time I am over. I do believe your sisters wished to show it to me.”
“The only thing that could be lovelier… well... would be to have you dressed as such, and dancing in Fela Isilme.”
Gilwen shook her head. “And there we shall not go.” She said softly. “For I do believe that would be an instance where my dress is dangerous.” She added the last part in a whisper, and her fair cheeks filled with color. Perhaps she would have to keep an eye on him yet; his hand dropped to brush her waist, a movement that could very well not be seen as innocent as it was. Had he forgotten the girls along the wall?
His eyes had seemed hard, and it was obvious that he was still fuming and churning over the entrance of Durion. Faeldor was loathing the man enough for the both of them, it did seem. Gilwen was almost frantic to hear his response and to bring him ease. Yes, Durion was foul. She knew that more than most. Allowing him to ruin their evening, though, would not fix anything. So, she was pleased immensely when his grey eyes softened, and flew over her then declared that he would like to begin first with a dance.
Her smile clearly showed that she was pleased by such a response. It was no secret to her beloved how much she adored dancing. Indeed, it was probably not much of a secret from any who truly knew her. The music was lovely, lively enough to be bringing cheer to the beginning moments of a ball, but slow enough to offer graceful dance steps to match it’s cadence. Her brown eyes flew around once, seeing that there were very little in the way of other dancing couples and for a moment wondered if it was appropriate to be the first upon the dance floor. Indeed, she did not wish to attract so much attention! Still, his hand held hers firmly, and he immediately stepped nearer her, taking her right hand into his, and placing the other on her waist. Then, he began to lead. It was thrilling for little Gilwen to dance with Faeldor. He was a grand dancer, and she likewise matched in skill. And to be so near him with no foul rumors being spread for it; it was more than comforting. His grey eyes had finally begun to smile at her, and despite the crowded room, and the eyes that had fallen on one of the only dancing couples, Gilwen felt at ease.
He lifted his arm and she obediently, and gracefully twirled under, though her brown eye caught sight of something as she came back to her normal hold. Behind Faeldor, towards one of the grand pillars of the Great Hall was a lovely young woman, clad in the richest of greens. Faeldor turned her, but Gilwen’s eyes stayed on the lady. Miriel, Gilwen’s heart knew it in an instant. And it knew also that she was in some sort of pain. Her face seemed saddened and grieved, even from this far away. She took a breath to look up at Faeldor, her eyes softly apologizing and pleading. “Fael,” she gently ended the dance, curtsying as if it was meant to stop there. She had picked the spot on purpose, for now Faeldor could see over her shoulder the sister he had been so worried over. She motioned slightly with her head over her shoulder. “I do believe you should go to her.” Her voice was gentle, and motherly. Despite all of the wrongs and hatred that Miriel had fed her way, Gilwen still would not utter foul things against her. In fact, she wished to make their tensions ease. Her heart was far greater than it should be at times. She blamed very few of the people who had harmed her for their deeds, and sometimes this could make her appear malleable or soft. But it was a gentle heart, she had. And one that would want nothing but to love and be loved in return.
It seemed sad that she would have to let her Faeldor leave her side to go tend to the woman, though in her heart, she knew that it was not all that great a loss. He would return to her side eventually, and then their evening could be happy. “I shall be fine for some moments alone.” She certainly could not go with him. As much as she might desire to be such a friend and comfort to his dear sister, she was not. And would only prove in making it worse by her presence. So, he had to go alone.
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Post by Arien on Sept 4, 2009 8:39:20 GMT -5
Arien was a little tired from all the work and the sleepless nights she had been having. Dress over a dress over a dress, tunique and so on. Her commands didn’t stop one bit before the dance of Gondor happened. She didn’t even remember last night she had taken slept or even taken a nap. It was surprising that she still had the strenght to go to dance and enjoy herself. Knowing her, people would think she would be at work, catching up with work like she used to do over and over again but this time, she had decided by her own will it was enough and she had to relax too. Keann would be proud of her knowing that she had taken such a decision for her was the one who forced her to take breaks.
Then, came the story of that necklace that she was wearing; Keann's necklace. She didn't remember last time he had given her such a pretty gift. She was proud of him, his work and it. She even thought it was cute in a way that he didn't bring her by himself and asked a messenger to do the job for him. He was just so shy, she figured it was normal out of him, still she would've been pleased if he would've give it to her. Ah well, you can't have anything. She still liked it very much.
The arrival of Arien dressed in a teal long sleeved dress her hair were puled up slightly but she wasn't wearing anything too fancy. She was holding Keann's arm and smiling slightly, glad that he still wanted to come along with her. That was a good thing, or else, she would've to find someone else that would be willing to keep her company for a night and well, she didn't see anyone else who would do the job more prefectly than Keann was-even if he was his shy self. She could deal with that.
The room was so beautufil, it was awseome. She could recognise people that were wearing her own creations, as well as Keanns' but there was one she was looking for in particular-Gilwen. Now where was she? The dress must look abseloutely gorgeous on her! She just knew it. Lord Faeldor must be more than pleased at the sight of the pretty servant she would be at the dance. She grinned at the thought.
"Keann, you remember Gilwen? We'll go see her along with Faeldor, I want to see how lovely she will look wearing it! I'm so proud of this one, as proud as I am for making the princess's dress." she told him, dragging him along in the crowd. Now it shouldn't be hard to look for the second prettiest dress of Gondor right?
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Narbeleth
Man
Midwife
Laugh as much as you breath, and love as long as you live.[Mo0:0]
Posts: 143
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Post by Narbeleth on Sept 4, 2009 17:19:24 GMT -5
“Then I do hope he shall come to you first with such requests. So that you may ruin his feet for the evening, and he will be unable to ruin the night of anyone here; indeed he will have to leave and tend to his toes.”
Narbeleth smirked. "I should hope this is the way it turns out." The young woman raised her hands dramatically to her chest, clasping them together. "Oh, please, Master Durion; do choose me to be your first dance partner. I wish I had spent more time on fixing my hair; perhaps he would have looked my way sooner."
The woman gladly accepted the drink that was offered to her; and took a sip before she continued. "You should have seen what my sister Miriel did to him just a couple weeks ago. He was likely incapacitated for an entire day by it; though I am not certain I would have the audacity to repeat the behavior. She knew right where to kick him and make it hurt though. Now, I know you think my sister is a witch," her eyes were glinting as she spoke, referring to Calon's earlier slip of the tongue. Her tone was light though, and not condemning. "But sometimes her actions are quite appropriate and amusing, you must admit. I am immensely proud of her for that."
Narbeleth saw that Calon's eyes had drifted back to Durion, but he seemed to wish to change topics of conversation, and so turning his back to the man, he commented once more on the wine. Beleth wished to laugh at his words, but let it show through her eyes alone. "It is delectable. The finest in Gondor, I should say. And I did mention that we might mingle near the table for a time... And you do seem a man that would be able to hold your drink well. My brother has never allowed me more than two drinks, for he seems to think I would become too wild. But you men of the stables seem to endure a few more drinks than I ever could." Of course the young woman had noted the fit build of her escort. With her free hand she patted her upper arm, indicating his strenth, and preening over his manliness. He surely did seem quite proud of his own gender.
"Not to mention, all of that chicken herding must keep you in peak physical shape," she added, with a serious nod, and a lilt in her voice.
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Dervorin
Man
Knight
Forward, Men of Gondor![Mo0:0]
Posts: 26
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Post by Dervorin on Sept 4, 2009 19:38:14 GMT -5
“I did not think that you would be here this evening! I had heard you could not find someone to take, though perhaps that was on purpose.”
Dervorin sighed. And it began. Bloody hell.
"Ah, Durion. Yes, you are right. I did not. Of course, how can a man find something if he never looked for it?"
Indeed, how could he? This would serve, but Derv knew he was already destined for trouble, unless someone else intervened. Durion was going to have a field day with this.
He turned to see Gilwen, with Faeldor, in a dress as beautiful as any. Dervorin simply nodded in agreement, but spoke not. For anything he could say in return was stifled by the sight of Gilwen clad as she was. Faeldor was a lucky man. Dervorin would have to ask when he planned on asking for her hand in marraige. It was obvious enough he was planning for it soon.
But, the thought was something to be taken care of latter, because the spawn of evil was still talking to the noble knight.
“I would have thought you would have asked her to attend with you. You both seemed rather close when I saw you in the courtyard.”
If he could, Dervorin would have grimaced. But faced with an opponent of Durion's quality, anything giving away his feelings was a very bad thing for his defense.
"Is that so, Durion? It seems you have misread my relationship with the lady Gilwen. If you must know, we have been close friends since our childhood. I consider her to be more of a sister. Truly that is the extent of our relationship. I'm surprised that you didn't know that, my good friend."
As he spoke, Dervorin barely heard his name being called over the noise of the crowd. He ignored it, choosing to keep his attention firmly on the noble before him. After all, social relationships could wait... matters of personal pride and honor, not so much.
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Durion
Man
Gondorian Calvary
[Mo0:0]
Posts: 72
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Post by Durion on Sept 4, 2009 20:11:07 GMT -5
Had not looked for it? The man felt his eyes glean with a pride for such a response. It seemed that this was simply brimming with possibilities. One had not looked, because one knew that it could not be found. That it had been taken already.
"Is that so, Durion? It seems you have misread my relationship with the lady Gilwen. If you must know, we have been close friends since our childhood. I consider her to be more of a sister. Truly that is the extent of our relationship. I'm surprised that you didn't know that, my good friend."
Oh, it was entirely unlikely. The way he had nodded at her beauty that evening was display enough of his attachment to her. Rosiel probably could sense it too, though she was willing to throw anyone in the way of the Stable Master and servant so she could step in and replace her. The smile that crossed his lips did enough to show he did not believe his words. But, appearances were important, and as such the devil did well to speak otherwise. “Oh, a sister.” His lilt was light, and mocking with its undertones. “I am terribly sorry then. For misunderstanding.” Oh, but he hadn’t! “I am sure Faeldor will not mind sharing her for a dance. I would think she would enjoy such time spent with a brother.”
It was even more evidenced by the way Dervorin ignored the call of the Princess in the hallway. Was he so troubled as to forget his manners to the Royals? However lovely and amusing! His dark heart felt a great twist of pleasure from such a scene; Gilwen dancing so gracefully, so near Dervorin—to know he desired what he could not have! Oh, how blessed a feeling that was. Surely, it would be the source of much amusement that evening!
“I do believe the Princess is addressing you,” Durion continued with a carefully disguised gentlemanly tone. Dervorin, though, knew quite well the heart of this particular cavalier, and it would certainly not fool him in the least. He bowed his head respectfully as Miroesa and Boromir approached, the latter being pulled rather forcibly.
“Good evening, Milady. Captain Boromir.” Quickly his brown eyes assessed the situation. To make any bold or outright comments within the presence of the Captain would not be wise; especially on the manner of the Princess. Still, he mused he would have a time later for such games.
“The palace looks exquisite,” he complimented easily. Still, he knew it was not their backs that had labored to prepare it. Oh, the life of the elite was much desired. Durion was quite thankful for such a wealthy and lavish lifestyle. Money was indeed everything.
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Calon
Man
Stablehand
[Mo0:0]
Posts: 145
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Post by Calon on Sept 4, 2009 21:16:34 GMT -5
"Oh, please, Master Durion; do choose me to be your first dance partner. I wish I had spent more time on fixing my hair; perhaps he would have looked my way sooner."
Calon stifled a laugh, but soon let it loose. Then, dropping his voice an octave he began to make fun of the detestable cavalier. “Yes, you should have spent more time. I only spend my time with the finest of women.” He even straightened his back as if to mock his gentlemanly posture and tilted his head upward to mock his status. “And that generally constitutes anyone.” He laughed heartily at that, surely. To pretend to be so elite, but to take any woman? How absurd indeed.
He took another long sip of the wine and he listened intently to Beleth’s further account of Miriel’s revenge on the wretched man. He raised his eyebrows and dropped the glass from his lips. “Your sister certainly had all right to beat him, no matter what his offense. Though, I implore you to tell me that I shall not end this night with a similar fate! Do all members of your family behave so…spirited?”
He, of course, would do nothing to offend Beleth. With all of his manliness, Calon was not one to think being a “man” was a synonym with “pig”, as it appeared Durion did. Still, he was intrigued by the prospect of so many women behaving so freely. Beleth had certainly already spoken of her own love of “freedom” to him, and he had known her but the equivalent of an hour or so in total. Faeldor’s family certainly seemed like a fine time, indeed. As it was becoming apparent, there was never a dull moment.
“And you do seem a man that would be able to hold your drink well. My brother has never allowed me more than two drinks, for he seems to think I would become too wild. But you men of the stables seem to endure a few more drinks than I ever could."
Calon’s bright eye continued to glimmer as his ego and pride were stroked easily. He was not vain in the way that Durion, or other men for that matter, could be. He simply had an image of what being a man should entail, and he strove to match it perfectly. “I can hold my own when it comes to drink,” he laughed lightly. “Though I have met some stablemen that cannot hold it as you say. That does not mean they do not drink it; though perhaps they should not!” He laughed merrily indeed, once again. In fact one of his good friends did love their trips to the tavern. Still, it was not long before he was completely inebriate—though it never did slow his drinking.
“And after what you have told me of your love of running about in your undergarments, I would think your brother was right to care and restrict your drink.” Calon agreed playfully. “And I am glad I know now of this restriction, so I can enforce it for you. After all, letting you run around in such a way would certainly get me beaten nicely. As well as attract you too much attention from other men.”
"Not to mention, all of that chicken herding must keep you in peak physical shape."
“Certainly. It is a chore to prepare a body for a tedious and demanding task. I often find myself thinking how easy horses are to deal with, over those flighty and cunning birds.” He was, of course, jesting. Horses wore a body well. “Sometimes, as I am wrestling with a spooked mare, I think how lucky I am that it is not a hen. At times I do not have the strength to catch the bird! And then, I am with a displeased customer, and I have been beaten and my pride is gone.” He took another sip of his wine, his eyes dancing behind the glass.
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Faeldor
Man
Head Stablemaster
Do we walk in legends or on the green earth in the daylight?[Mo0:1]
Posts: 556
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Post by Faeldor on Sept 6, 2009 15:56:46 GMT -5
“I will have to pretend to never have seen them the next time I am over. I do believe your sisters wished to show it to me.” “My sisters, in their excitement to show you, will certainly not notice. Besides, it will once more be your first time there; because any place is quite different at night time compared to the day. You will see the gardens under the stars tonight, and they will show you the flowers in the sunlight. It is only befitting that my Starlight should see them with me in the nighttime.”
Gilwen continued though; and brought the topic of her silken dress back to hand. Oh, how bold sweet Gilwen was speaking! It greatly amused the Stable Master, for without all of his talking and prodding, the lady certainly would not have made such a statement. “Indeed! Your dress will be quite dangerous in that situation! We best not risk it yet, though perhaps along in the future we will have the chance to have such fun,” he grinned, winking slightly. At that, their dance had begun! Certainly there were some others out on the floor with them by the time they started, though many eyes were held upon the stable master and servant. Together their dancing figures were lovely, for both knew the steps and did not hesitate throughout the entirety of it. Faeldor’s hands were barely upon the lady; though he could feel the energy surging through her fingertips and it brought him great delight. Though, before the music ended, Gilwen had pulled away and halted their dance. Faeldor looked at her confusedly for a moment, and was slightly disappointed, before he realized what had made her stop, as his eyes turned toward her nod.
“Yes… it appears I should,” he nodded in agreement, as his sister came into view. Miriel looked entirely… well, wretched. She was dressed lovely, and had obviously taken care in her appearance, but her posture was slumped and she appeared to be crying. She was not herself; that was certain. He had been angry with his sister for weeks; though now he felt his heart soften toward her; and he wished to comfort her as he used to. Faeldor frowned, wondering what could possibly be the matter on a night like tonight, though not saying anything else about her. He did not wish to upset Gilwen afterall, with any of Miriel’s issues.
“Of course you will be fine,” the man smiled, assuring himself of such. He was still feeling rather protective, what with the way Durion was so near. He glanced once more at the other man. He was right in line of sight of the two, and for a moment he thought that he had been observing them. Perhaps he was becoming unreasonable though, and imagining such a thing in his hatred. Looking past Durion though, to the entrance of the Hall, he saw two more figures moving across the floor, and the sight made his smile return. It was Arien and Keann. “And you should not be alone at any rate,” he nodded in their direction. “There is your dear Arien, and she appears to have brought along the Jeweler,” he smiled approvingly. Lord Keann had seemed rather concerned for the woman that day that he had attended to her injury in the dressmakers shop. It would be likely that they attend together.
“She looks utterly jubilant, do go to them, and give my regards. I will join you again shortly,” the Stable Master instructed, a slight relief filling him that Gilwen would be occupied with another. He was slightly afraid that Durion would pounce on her in some form as soon as he stepped away, and though he could physically do nothing here to hurt her here, his words could be as poison. Faeldor assured himself that he would not bother Gilwen if she were occupied with Arien though. And it appeared that Arien was seeking them out as well; for her eyes were upon Gilwen.
He leaned close for a brief instant and pressed his lips warmly to Gilwen’s forehead, his hand lightly grasping the small of her back as he did so. “Enjoy yourself,” he muttered low as he was near her.
With that, the Stable Master released his lady for the first time since she had stepped out of his quarters in her lovely new dress, and he went to his sister. The tall man slowed his walk as he approached her, so as not to startle her. It was to no effect though, for lovely Miriel did not notice him until he reached out and grasped the hand with which she was rubbing her eyes. “Miriel, my gem..” he started softly, his heart feeling ever more in pain for his little sister, as she looked up at him with her wet, emerald eyes and pallor face. “Come here, sweet. Let us go outside and get some air,” he continued, when she had said nothing. Faeldor looped his arm securely around the woman’s waist, and they made their way back toward the door.
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Miriel
Man
Cook
Time engraves our faces with all the tears we have not shed.[Mo0:0]
Posts: 48
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Post by Miriel on Sept 6, 2009 15:57:37 GMT -5
“Fael,” Miriel said shakily after they had exited the hall. The light breeze blowing over the city made the outdoors much cooler than the indoors was becoming, and it helped to settle the woman. It played at her hair and tugged upon her dress; the silken fabric tickling her legs. Faeldor had surprised her! She did not expect to be noticed where she was, let alone by her brother who had been enjoying himself so well. Was he upset with her? She glanced up at him once more, the tears drying in her eyes. He did not look angry. “It feels better out here. Thank you,” she said shortly, her eyes scanning over the courtyard, and then. A few people were still coming up the walk, but most had entered by now.
“What is the matter, Miriel?” Faeldor asked her, not looking on her as to condemn her, but staring out over the courtyard as he held her by his side. The white tree was shadowed in the darkness; the light of the open doorway casting an iridescence on it, and the guards standing as always.
“Nothing,” she lied, though knew that her brother would not be appeased by such a short answer. “It is no matter to anyone. I am simply being emotional.”
“Is it Durion? Has he done something to you?” Faeldor asked, his voice not entirely calm, as he was worried for his sister, and guessing at the truth of the matter.
More than I can bare to tell you, right now, my dearest brother, Miriel thought to herself, but could not say aloud. “We simply had an argument,” she said. Truthfully, they had gone into an argument, though that was not the whole of it. “As did Rosiel and I. They have come together tonight to spite me.”
Faeldor didn’t doubt it. It seemed that both of that finely dressed pair would do such a thing to spite anyone. They were both unhappy, and took it out on anyone who happened to be around them. Faeldor’s arm tightened around his sister. Miriel, in truth, had not many friends, if any at all. And if she had called Rosiel her closest friend, he pitied her for the fact. He understood her sense of abandonment, however trivial it might seem. “You cannot give your trust to people such as those,” he said comfortingly. “They do not deserve it.” He looked down at his sister’s face, tilting her chin upwards. “You look lovely tonight, and should enjoy your time here. Do not let them ruin your evening, neither will I let them ruin mine.”
Miriel frowned for a moment. Her brother did not seem as if he were pitying her, yet he seemed to shrug off Durion and Rosiel so easily. How did he do that? After all they had done to him, he could still take enjoyment in the evening in their presence. Nonetheless, she attempted to smile at him. He should indeed be treating her poorly as well. He should not have even approached her as she was, for the things she had said and done to him over the past weeks. To him and to that servant girl. A lump grew in her throat, because Miriel knew it was the fact that Gilwen was here with him tonight that made him so happy. He would leave his sister soon to go back to her, and Miriel would not be welcome to attend with them, for she had never been kind to Gilwen.
“Perhaps the dancing will cheer me,” she agreed, though she did not even know of who she would dance with. Who would dance with her? Perhaps some unsuspecting soldiers, who did not already know of her spiteful attitude.
“Your sister will be glad to see you. She could not find you before she left and was quite distraught over the fact.” Faeldor was speaking the truth. Beleth was a bundle of excitement in the body of a woman, and she had run about everywhere searching for her sister beforehand. She had been somewhat upset that she had not been able to do Miriel’s hair, and spend time with her. Although that was all Faeldor knew. In truth, Beleth had been as concerned for Miriel as Faeldor was now, for she had been a disastrous wreck the past two weeks. She held herself together well during the day, yet when night came she could no longer contain it, and Beleth spent her time before sleep each night sitting on the edge of her sister’s bed, rubbing her back and stroking her hair until she cried herself to sleep.
“Who is Beleth with?” she asked, for fear that if she stayed on the subject of Durion too long, she would reveal her secret to her brother. He did not need to know yet. She did not wish to inspire his anger tonight, and there was nothing more he could do about the situation. Faeldor was the oldest; he should have been the first to be married and have children; but Miriel found herself skipping a step. Her hand rose once more to her stomach in pity for herself. Her own father had died when she was fifteen, and she had been without since then. She missed him terribly! But how would her child feel? To never have a father. She was certainly giving her baby a dreadful start to life. She rubbed her belly comfortingly, as if to care for the little being inside.
Faeldor knew that Miriel had not told him everything; though he could not even guess at her hidden secrets. She did not wish to speak on it though, it seemed, and he could not press her tonight, else she would never enjoy herself. “His name is Calon. He works with me in the stables.” He did not specify that Calon was a simple stablehand. Miriel would certainly not approve, and Faeldor was still not entirely sure of the woman’s mood. Though she was upset, he would not have her take some form of joy in upsetting Narbeleth’s night. Last he had looked, Beleth seemed to be enjoying herself quite well.
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