Post by Faeldor on Sept 7, 2009 12:59:25 GMT -5
“Mother—“
Faeldor was taken aback at his mother’s actions. He had just stopped by his home for the briefest moment to get something to eat, for he wished to take an evening ride onto the plains with Lumiel. There when he entered, his mother came into the room, wringing her hands slightly and looking worried. Meleth had been waiting now since the morning to tell him something. She had known since the day before, but she found it best to carry out her plan, and then tell him.
“—You have six children, Mother, and a job. I do not think this is a good idea.” The Stable Master continued, still dressed in his ruddy work clothes.
“Faeldor; three of you are well grown, and need no special care. I have already taken a leave from work, and should only be there once or twice a week. And I am only forty-six years old. I know my limits, but this is something that I can do.”
“Your heart has gotten ahead of your mind, Mother. I do not know how you will balance this.”
“I am a woman of Belfalas, Faeldor; you know just as well. Unless some tragic accident befalls as what happened to your father, you know we all have many years left. I am not old yet. It is only fair that I use them as I please, and for good.” Meleth had known that her oldest son would have words to say to her about the matter. Indeed, he was only concerned for her own health. Either way, Meleth was still in charge of this household, and she could do as she pleased.
Faeldor frowned. It appeared his mother would not change her mind; he had already been arguing the matter with her for near twenty minutes, and she seemed to be at her end of it. He did not wish to make his mother cry. But did she not think! She had Marileth, and Faelon, and Haliel to care for still!
When her son had stopped speaking, Meleth took a moment to rise up and compose herself. “Would you like to meet them then?”
The Stable Master nodded slowly, still standing in the entry room. What else would he do? He would not shun those who his mother had brought into their home. In truth she
When Meleth returned to the room, she was holding a child in each arm, a small boy, and a girl. They were both silent, and looked at the man with wide eyes, clinging to his mother. The boy, who was younger, had taken a fistful of Meleth’s hair, and was stuffing it into his mouth. The girl was frightened, and buried her face in the woman’s shoulder. Faeldor’s eyes softened, and he had not further words to say against his mother’s actions.
“You had not said they were of the Northern lands,” the man stood still, but looked on the children. Their hair was the lightest gold, and they had fair skin.
“I don’t rightly know where they are from. The soldiers heard a noise and stilled their horses, and when Bregodor climbed down and checked, a dog ran at him growling and attacked. The cut it down right quickly, but then they realized what it had been protecting.” She nodded to the children as she spoke.
“There was only the dog with them?” Faeldor asked in astonishment.
Meleth glanced slightly at the little girl before she continued. “There… was a body not far away. She said he was their brother, and that she was taking care of him.”
“Eobrand,” the little girl’s small voice piped up. She spoke in the common Westron, yet even as a small child, her dialect was slightly different than those of the people of Gondor. “He was ill for a long time.”
“They don’t have parents that they remember, and when we asked where they lived, she said they lived in the mountains for a long time, and were walking. Eobrand took care of them. They were so dirty, when they came, Fael. They were in rags for clothes, and it looks like they had never been bathed. Their brother probably did what he could, but he had no possessions on him.”
Faeldor now noticed the children’s clothing. The little girl was in a small dress that had once been Haliel’s, and the boy, in an old tunic of Faelon’s. He imagined his mother had probably seen to bathing and dressing them, and feeding them as soon as they had come, for they both looked content. Save, the little boy was still chewing on his mother’s hair. Meleth’s arms were full, and now Faeldor was transfixed on the sweet looking children, and stepped forward.
“Come here, little one,” he said gently to the girl, stretching out his arms for her as he walked forward. The girl looked from Meleth, back to Faeldor, and eventually decided that it was a safe transition. She let the tall, dark haired man take her, and he held her gently. “Now, what are your names, and how old are you?” he asked, looking down at the big brown eyes. Her eyes reminded him of Gilwen’s own doe eyes, but her hair! He was closer to her now, and it was so golden and lovely! Her skin was so fair!
“They don’t know their names. He must be about two, and she seems four or five,” Meleth chimed in. Now, with the extra hand she had pulled her hair from the little boy’s fist, and was bouncing him slightly in front of her. He was smiling, though still quiet.
Faeldor was utterly taken now by the little girl. Meleth would have done better to show her son the children and then mention that she had adopted them, she now saw. “Well what did Eobrand call you, little one?” Faeldor asked her softly.
“Darling,” the girl said softly. “And he is Brother,” she said, looking at the little boy.
“I am not sure what to call them, rightly,” Meleth said, looking to her son.
“You need names of your own,” Faeldor said, looking to the little girl, as if she would know what to say. “If you are to become a child of Meleth, daughter of Melanir, you will need to be called by something.”
Meleth released her breath slightly. This meant that Faeldor had given his approval, certainly. She would have kept the children either way, but her son Faeldor had truly kept the family at their pace since Faelon had passed, and she did not wish to displease him. He was her eldest child.
“We must name you befitting of your people,” Faeldor said, still looking at the child, and then to Meleth. She nodded. Faeldor had read well into the histories of the people of the Rohirrim. As the head Stable Master of the great White City, he knew well of the horselords, and such, he knew portions of their own language and names. “May I, Mother?” Faeldor asked, looking to the older woman.
“Yes, Fael. Say as you see fitting. But you must call them your siblings.” Meleth rocked the child in front of her, and the little blue eyed boy finally laughed.
Faeldor looked at the boy, and then back to the little girl. “Your brother will be Eoric, named for his elder brother, and for the horse lords of your people.” Meleth smiled at the name, and the little girl still looked up at Faeldor, wide eyed and awaiting her turn. “And you are Diore. Beloved.” The man moved the little girl into one arm, holding her against his side, and he touched her cheek, and her golden hair.
Meleth smiled in approval. She could not have named them better. And they would be her children of Rohan, yet raised in the home of the line of Belfalas. She hugged the little boy.
“Do you like horses, Diore?” Faeldor asked. The little girl nodded her head. She felt special to have been given a name. Eobrand would have liked her name. “One time Eobrand had a horse.”
“I’m sure he had a fine horse. Would you like to go meet my own horse?” he asked the little thing. “Perhaps we can even ride her.” Diore nodded, her eyes bright.
“Let me go get you something to eat first, Fael,” Meleth said softly and happily as she turned with little Eoric in her arms to go toward the kitchen. She could not be more pleased at the moment! How much easier this had been than she had expected! Faeldor would do well to spend some time with the little girl; he already seemed quite attached. And he would adore Eoric just as much. One at a time.
Faeldor was taken aback at his mother’s actions. He had just stopped by his home for the briefest moment to get something to eat, for he wished to take an evening ride onto the plains with Lumiel. There when he entered, his mother came into the room, wringing her hands slightly and looking worried. Meleth had been waiting now since the morning to tell him something. She had known since the day before, but she found it best to carry out her plan, and then tell him.
“—You have six children, Mother, and a job. I do not think this is a good idea.” The Stable Master continued, still dressed in his ruddy work clothes.
“Faeldor; three of you are well grown, and need no special care. I have already taken a leave from work, and should only be there once or twice a week. And I am only forty-six years old. I know my limits, but this is something that I can do.”
“Your heart has gotten ahead of your mind, Mother. I do not know how you will balance this.”
“I am a woman of Belfalas, Faeldor; you know just as well. Unless some tragic accident befalls as what happened to your father, you know we all have many years left. I am not old yet. It is only fair that I use them as I please, and for good.” Meleth had known that her oldest son would have words to say to her about the matter. Indeed, he was only concerned for her own health. Either way, Meleth was still in charge of this household, and she could do as she pleased.
Faeldor frowned. It appeared his mother would not change her mind; he had already been arguing the matter with her for near twenty minutes, and she seemed to be at her end of it. He did not wish to make his mother cry. But did she not think! She had Marileth, and Faelon, and Haliel to care for still!
When her son had stopped speaking, Meleth took a moment to rise up and compose herself. “Would you like to meet them then?”
The Stable Master nodded slowly, still standing in the entry room. What else would he do? He would not shun those who his mother had brought into their home. In truth she
When Meleth returned to the room, she was holding a child in each arm, a small boy, and a girl. They were both silent, and looked at the man with wide eyes, clinging to his mother. The boy, who was younger, had taken a fistful of Meleth’s hair, and was stuffing it into his mouth. The girl was frightened, and buried her face in the woman’s shoulder. Faeldor’s eyes softened, and he had not further words to say against his mother’s actions.
“You had not said they were of the Northern lands,” the man stood still, but looked on the children. Their hair was the lightest gold, and they had fair skin.
“I don’t rightly know where they are from. The soldiers heard a noise and stilled their horses, and when Bregodor climbed down and checked, a dog ran at him growling and attacked. The cut it down right quickly, but then they realized what it had been protecting.” She nodded to the children as she spoke.
“There was only the dog with them?” Faeldor asked in astonishment.
Meleth glanced slightly at the little girl before she continued. “There… was a body not far away. She said he was their brother, and that she was taking care of him.”
“Eobrand,” the little girl’s small voice piped up. She spoke in the common Westron, yet even as a small child, her dialect was slightly different than those of the people of Gondor. “He was ill for a long time.”
“They don’t have parents that they remember, and when we asked where they lived, she said they lived in the mountains for a long time, and were walking. Eobrand took care of them. They were so dirty, when they came, Fael. They were in rags for clothes, and it looks like they had never been bathed. Their brother probably did what he could, but he had no possessions on him.”
Faeldor now noticed the children’s clothing. The little girl was in a small dress that had once been Haliel’s, and the boy, in an old tunic of Faelon’s. He imagined his mother had probably seen to bathing and dressing them, and feeding them as soon as they had come, for they both looked content. Save, the little boy was still chewing on his mother’s hair. Meleth’s arms were full, and now Faeldor was transfixed on the sweet looking children, and stepped forward.
“Come here, little one,” he said gently to the girl, stretching out his arms for her as he walked forward. The girl looked from Meleth, back to Faeldor, and eventually decided that it was a safe transition. She let the tall, dark haired man take her, and he held her gently. “Now, what are your names, and how old are you?” he asked, looking down at the big brown eyes. Her eyes reminded him of Gilwen’s own doe eyes, but her hair! He was closer to her now, and it was so golden and lovely! Her skin was so fair!
“They don’t know their names. He must be about two, and she seems four or five,” Meleth chimed in. Now, with the extra hand she had pulled her hair from the little boy’s fist, and was bouncing him slightly in front of her. He was smiling, though still quiet.
Faeldor was utterly taken now by the little girl. Meleth would have done better to show her son the children and then mention that she had adopted them, she now saw. “Well what did Eobrand call you, little one?” Faeldor asked her softly.
“Darling,” the girl said softly. “And he is Brother,” she said, looking at the little boy.
“I am not sure what to call them, rightly,” Meleth said, looking to her son.
“You need names of your own,” Faeldor said, looking to the little girl, as if she would know what to say. “If you are to become a child of Meleth, daughter of Melanir, you will need to be called by something.”
Meleth released her breath slightly. This meant that Faeldor had given his approval, certainly. She would have kept the children either way, but her son Faeldor had truly kept the family at their pace since Faelon had passed, and she did not wish to displease him. He was her eldest child.
“We must name you befitting of your people,” Faeldor said, still looking at the child, and then to Meleth. She nodded. Faeldor had read well into the histories of the people of the Rohirrim. As the head Stable Master of the great White City, he knew well of the horselords, and such, he knew portions of their own language and names. “May I, Mother?” Faeldor asked, looking to the older woman.
“Yes, Fael. Say as you see fitting. But you must call them your siblings.” Meleth rocked the child in front of her, and the little blue eyed boy finally laughed.
Faeldor looked at the boy, and then back to the little girl. “Your brother will be Eoric, named for his elder brother, and for the horse lords of your people.” Meleth smiled at the name, and the little girl still looked up at Faeldor, wide eyed and awaiting her turn. “And you are Diore. Beloved.” The man moved the little girl into one arm, holding her against his side, and he touched her cheek, and her golden hair.
Meleth smiled in approval. She could not have named them better. And they would be her children of Rohan, yet raised in the home of the line of Belfalas. She hugged the little boy.
“Do you like horses, Diore?” Faeldor asked. The little girl nodded her head. She felt special to have been given a name. Eobrand would have liked her name. “One time Eobrand had a horse.”
“I’m sure he had a fine horse. Would you like to go meet my own horse?” he asked the little thing. “Perhaps we can even ride her.” Diore nodded, her eyes bright.
“Let me go get you something to eat first, Fael,” Meleth said softly and happily as she turned with little Eoric in her arms to go toward the kitchen. She could not be more pleased at the moment! How much easier this had been than she had expected! Faeldor would do well to spend some time with the little girl; he already seemed quite attached. And he would adore Eoric just as much. One at a time.