Faeldor
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Do we walk in legends or on the green earth in the daylight?[Mo0:1]
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Post by Faeldor on Nov 24, 2009 14:31:30 GMT -5
“I will say I cannot take Eoric, for he is not mine to keep.” Faelon sighed, seemingly a slight disappointed that Eoric was truly with the family to stay; though he knew he could not outright say that he did not wish the babe to be here; for it would be going against his mother’s wishes. “He likes you though,” he added. “I think that perhaps sometimes he will visit you, when he is big enough to go visiting.”
It had become evident to even the child, that Gilwen was upset. Perhaps it was still over Rosiel, for Rosiel had been very mean to her, as she usually was. But perhaps it was because Faelon’s words had been upsetting! He had not meant to make her angry with him. He did hate when his mother or Beleth or Miriel became angry with him; and Gilwen was a guest. He glanced quickly to Faeldor. His brother would be upset with him too, should he make Gilwen upset.
Though, Faelon’s little fears were stilled. Mother would not be angry with Faeldor, for his brother would not make the same mistake that Miriel had. And it made him glad to know that he would not have more than one secret to contend with. It was difficult enough to not speak on the issue of Miriel’s baby with his mother or Faeldor; and it was forbidden even to mention it around his sisters! He sighed, snuggling against Gilwen, and understanding that it was within good reason why Faeldor and Eoric found her to be so comfortable.
Gilwen’s cheek had obviously turned a shade of pink, though Faelon had not noticed it. Yet, he remained still and quiet for a short time. If Gilwen was upset with him, he would not make it worsen, at least. The music went on for a time, until Meleth once more returned outside; now ready to collect the rest of the younger children.
“Well,” Meleth said pleasantly. “My children do adore you.” And it did seem that way! Perhaps with the exception of Miriel now, the entire family had become quite comfortable and pleased with Gilwen. Faeldor most of all, it seemed, though there was not another child that was hesitant about her, and it pleased Meleth greatly.
“Come dears, it’s time to ready for bed,” Meleth said, still smiling, looking to Faelon, Haliel, and turning to see Diore. “Say goodnight to our guests.”
“Good-night guests!” Faelon said smartly in a sing songy voice, though did not rise yet. Diore made no motion to stop playing the little drum and start listening, and so in response, Faeldor had stopped playing and was instructing the little girl.
“Mama, might Lilotie sleep in my room?” Haliel asked. She had been pleasantly distracted by the little kitten, which was laying now upon her chest.
“Of course, dear, as long as she earns her keep by catching the mice,” the mother answered. Haliel grinned, putting the little kitty on the ground while she moved to find her cane and stand up. The little girl eventually made her way to her feet, and the kitten did follow her as she went from person to person to wish them goodnight. Both Maeniel and Almurdir received a kiss on the cheek, then Gilwen as well, and soon enough, Haliel had made her way over to the crowd of musicians. The music stopped in lieu of hugs and kisses, and a pretty little girl’s goodnight wishes.
A bit of fussing from Diore ensued, but Faeldor had laid down his instrument and was now going after the girl. “Mother, you might have to carry this one,” he smirked, and Diore squealed, attempting to escape. “I shall never sleep,” she told him, though she was laughing, and obviously tired.
“Mum, when might I stay up as late as Marileth?” Faelon whined a bit, not wishing to go and leave the company yet. Meleth looked sternly upon him for his tone of voice, though did answer, “When you are twelve, as Marileth is now. Get up now, tell Gilwen goodnight,” she said, her voice returning to it’s softness as she watched Haliel collect her kitten in one arm.
Faelon smirked up at the woman beside him for a moment, wishing to stay up with the adults and not go to bed; though he would not truly admit to himself that he was tired. “Goodnight, Gilwen,” he answered, and as he moved to stand up, he kneeled beside her, and the idea struck him that to kiss her would be quite safe. Men kissed woman afterall; it was an honorable thing, and perhaps mother would see him as more grown up. At least it seemed a very grown up thing; Faeldor did it.
He gave Gilwen a hug goodnight, yet from there he smiled, and kissed Gilwen as well; though unlike his sister, it was not upon the cheek; but right upon her lips. And not even once, but twice. His eyes were starred.
“Faelon!” Meleth said laughingly. “Where did you learn that one? For Eru’s sake, Faeldor,” she glared amusedly at her eldest son, though was not truly condemning. Almurdir could not help but laugh aloud, and even Maeniel showed amusement, knowing right well what Meleth was referring to. Though perhaps Meleth had never caught Faeldor kissing Gilwen, it was certain she had caught him with quite a few other young women in his own youth.
“Come now, get inside and ready for bed,” she said, reaching for the little boy’s shoulder. At the touch of his mother, he moved to rise, looking bashfully back at Gilwen for a moment, though he nodded, and moved off to the house. “You have entranced my sons,” Meleth teased amusedly, glancing at Gilwen, then finally turning to handle Diore.
Faeldor took the moment to hand Diore off to Meleth, and smiled at Gilwen, quite amused at the whole situation. “I should walk my Lady home before it does grow too late. And before my siblings have claimed her as their own,” he commented to his family, knowing it would be a long walk down to the first tier. Though he would enjoy remaining in Gilwen’s company all the evening, he would win no favor by her father if he kept her out until an unseemly hour.
“And I shall take Maeniel,” Almurdir added, rising to his own feet, and offering a hand to the other woman. The light eyed woman gladly agreed, finding good company in the man.
---
“You are surely a songbird. I do not know another who is so quick to sing.” Beleth smiled, quiet for a moment in thought, then speaking once more. “Why should I not sing? Unless there was someone present who did not wish to hear it,” she mused, knowing quite well that within each song that had left her lips, Calon’s eyes had been fondly upon her, and his ears listening.
The woman stopped and turned, leaning back against the wall, to face Calon. Her eyes were quite bright and dancing; it seemed that at least for her, all traces of her previous low spirit had left her, and her soul was once more light. She studied the man for the moment, and it seemed he had an inward thought that changed his disposition back to humor. “Well then, should we count out a nice number before we let the cakes meet the wind.”
Narbeleth, however, was not quite ready to persist with their next adventure just yet. She stepped forward to lower Calon’s hand and still him from starting their newest game so soon. She was in just the mood to continue singing, and even as she had the thought in her mind, she squeezed the back of his hand, and then released him, leaning once more against the stone wall, and filling her lungs with the evening air.
“My life goes on in endless song Above earth's lamentations, I hear the real, though far-off hymn That hails a new creation.
Through all the tumult and the strife I hear it's music ringing, It sounds an echo in my soul. How can I keep from singing?
While though the tempest loudly roars, I hear the truth, it liveth. And though the darkness 'round me close, Songs in the night it giveth.
No storm can shake my inmost calm, While to that rock I'm clinging. Since love is lord of heaven and earth How can I keep from singing?
When tyrants tremble in their fear And hear their death knell ringing, When friends rejoice both far and near How can I keep from singing?
In prison cell and dungeon vile Our thoughts to them are winging, When friends by shame are undefiled How can I keep from singing?”
“On three, Cal,” Narbeleth laughed, making the same motion with her arm that he had previously started. “We shall watch and see where they land. The birds will adore us,” she added. She bit her lip; her eyes brimming with amusement. “Are you ready? One… two…”
She moved her arm back in preparation. “Three!” And then she released the dessert into the evening sky.
“Oh little cakes, you do fly well!” the woman shouted, leaning over the edge of the wall to watch as they did go. “I should never tell my mother of this,” she grinned up at Calon.
---
Enya-how can I keep from singing?
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Gilwen
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There are times when silence has the loudest voice.[Mo0:0]
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Post by Gilwen on Nov 25, 2009 23:48:56 GMT -5
Gilwen smiled down at Faelon as he commented on how he had observed that little Eoric had enjoyed her. “Well, if he should like to visit me,” she smiled more at the thought of such a thing, “he may.” For a moment, the woman studied the boy some more. It had to have been strange for Faelon; for all of his life he had been the youngest son that Meleth had to care for. Now, suddenly, he was no longer. Surely Faelon himself wished for the same amount of attention he was used to. Though, that was surely impossible now.
Gilwen could, though, do her part to make sure he was appeased with her. She would not desire to play favorites amongst the children of Meleth, though perhaps the eldest son would be able to take the title effortlessly. “My children do adore you.” Gilwen smiled upward to her, though said nothing verbally in response. She did adore Meleth’s children in return!
The woman continued by bidding the rest of the children to head off to bed. Haliel, it seemed, was quite easy to get inside. It took only the assurance of the little kitten to be able to sleep in her room to start the goodnight kisses. Gilwen, upon receiving hers, smiled at her and said, “Goodnight, Haliel. And Happy Birthday.”
Diore was flitting about the garden effortlessly, and Gilwen laughed lightly as she evaded Faeldor, and bedtime. Still, her attention was drawn elsewhere by some words spoken to her by little Faelon. “Goodnight, Gilwen.” “Goodnight, Faelon.” Her voice was soft and quiet, yet she was certainly happy that the child had spoken to her this evening. While some of what he said would certainly weigh heavy on her, such as Miriel’s state and secret, she had been pleased the little boy had desired to speak with her at all.
He moved closer to her, and for a moment the young woman imagined a puckered kiss to her cheek was soon to follow, just like with his sister. She was, however, wrong. It was her lips that were taken by the little boy, and immediately, Gilwen’s heart hammered and her cheeks flushed. Gracious Eru! It had ended, and the woman had instantly tried to regain herself. For a moment, her mind turned back to the thoughts on what it was men sought. Was it true with boys even this young? Was she a skirt to chase for young Faelon as well? Oh, in front of the family! They were looking upon her, she could feel it. And then! Oh, the boy took her lips once more.
With all the talk of her harlotry, Gilwen ws unsure what kind of personality this was going to display to the rest of the family. Though, they seemed ever more amused than she was. Her cheeks were rose colored, just as her dress, and her wide, brown eyes dropped to her lap as soon as the boy had moved away. “Where did you learn that one? For Eru’s sake, Faeldor.” Oh, but where had he seen Faeldor kiss her in such a way? Oh, by the Valar!
“You have entranced my sons.”
Gilwen looked up, her brown eyes ever more surprised. “I…” she faltered, and did not know what to say. Faeldor, perhaps. Eoric had called her “Mama”, that perhaps was a form of entrancement. But Faelon! Gracious, she never suspected such a thing from him.
“I should walk my Lady home before it does grow too late. And before my siblings have claimed her as their own.”
The comment made Gilwen’s cheeks burn all the brighter, though she did make a move to stand quickly. It was getting late, after all, and she was in dire need of getting home now. She glanced warily around the adults to gauge and see if they had condemned her for such a thing. Was it even proprietous to kiss in such a way with Faeldor? Oh, now her mind was racing.
“Yes, it is getting late.” She commented quietly aside, though perhaps it was not entirely that far into the night. “Thank you, Meleth.” She could not bring herself to say more. Gilwen was quite nervous as she stood, and wrung her hands together before her, awaiting Faeldor for her escort home.
--
“And whosoever does not want to hear it…well, they should not even exist. Your voice is fair to listen to. There is no other in all of Minas Tirith that can hold my attention through a song.” The hunter laughed heartily though smiled upon her.
Another pretty song came forth from her lips, and the man was calmed by it. Far from his mind was the dinner party, now. He had finally, and truly, gotten lost in grander feelings.
The song ended and he was silent. It was not often that the young man could have his words stolen. This woman, though, with her ample song seemed to do fine at stealing them. Finally, instruction came for the throwing of the cakes. He laughed at her, and looked over the city once more. “The birds may love us, though the people may not.” He grinned over to her. “Especially if your mother knew what we had done with these.”
She counted out, and then on three he and Narbeleth both released their cakes into the wind. He could not help but laugh. “Ah, Bel!” Another thought seemed to have come upon him. “We should have broken them into two, that we might each do it twice.” Nonetheless, he was quite pleased with the evening.
“I should never tell my mother of this.”
“I should pray you do not. If I have any favor in her eyes at all, this would surely lose it. Still, I suppose it is a nicer way to spend time than what your brother supposes you and I would be doing.” He laughed again, though perhaps a bit of a bitterness rose in his heart for a moment. He was entirely embarrassed, perhaps, that such things had been said about him in front of Beleth’s family and the guests. He had taken care of his reputation. He was not a foul man. Still, if Faeldor wished to imply such things, he would have handled such a thing with a greater smile if it had been in private.
There was a moment of silence and Calon looked over the city before finally asking, “Should I take you home? Or do I have time to take you for a bit of a longer excursion first?”
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Faeldor
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Do we walk in legends or on the green earth in the daylight?[Mo0:1]
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Post by Faeldor on Nov 26, 2009 13:37:29 GMT -5
Almurdir and Maeniel said their farewells and left ahead of the others. Surely they were glad to be leaving the confines of the garden where so much had ensued this evening, though, it was not with much regret that they had attended.
The family was certainly in a riot for a time over Faelon’s performance. Meleth amusedly watched the little blushing boy enter the house as she bundled Diore up in her arms. “Well, I say,” she grinned. “Goodnight, Gilwen,” she answered the woman, moving to kiss her upon the cheek as well. “Hali was certainly glad to have you here. What a perfect little gift you did choose for her,” she smiled.
“Oh, for Heaven’s sake child,” she interrupted herself, as Diore was struggling to escape her grasp and giggling. Faeldor paused a moment to look upon the little girl, who only laughed more under his stern gaze. “Beloved, you best listen well,” he said, holding the look he was giving her. Eventually Diore settled and allowed Meleth to place her down on the ground, though she held the woman’s hand as she led her inter the house. Melanir was laughing a loud. Even Tinuves was attempting to hide her laughing eyes, yet when Gilwen looked upon her she quickly collected herself, and reached for Marieleth to come sit near her for further instruction in her instrument. It would not do to embarrass the poor girl more, however the humor of it all had calmed the distress of Rosiel’s prior presence.
In peculiarity, Miriel’s face was down, still looking upon her harp. The situation would have been humorous to her in most respects, yet Gilwen was there, and she could not very well find amusement in that woman. Her stubbornness overrode her heart’s desire to accept the woman as she was, and ease the tension when she was among her household.
Faeldor stepped forward, his eyes quite bright and light. He was not upset in the least for Faelon’s antics, though he also wondered where the young boy had seen him do such a thing. Of course he had showed affection to Gilwen in front of his family, but never in such an intimate way, save the night of the Ball, when Calon and Beleth had been in the stables with them. However, they were adults!
It was still an amusing thought though. As a child, of course, Faeldor had witnessed his own parents in such an embrace. Perhaps it was why he was so much more at ease in such a situation; but either way, he was highly amused, and he thought on the matter greatly as he moved toward Gilwen, and eventually led her from the gardens.
“He must have spied upon us somehow,” Faeldor said amusedly, trying to lighten the silence as he brought Gilwen out upon the cobbled street. He glanced up to the windows of his home, though the little boy was not to be seen within them, for only the bedrooms of his sister’s overlooked the front walk.
---
“Still, I suppose it is a nicer way to spend time than what your brother supposes you and I would be doing.”
The young woman blushed, for a moment thinking on the brash things that her brother had stated. “Cal, my brother worries for my own impulses in all right. If he did not trust you, he would not let me with you. It is I who has not his trust!” she grinned slightly, gripping the sleeve of Calon’s tunic for a moment. “He thinks that I should be a poor influence on your chivalry and morals, yet, it is you who must take the blame for my poor way of being, as I am the Lady.”
Beleth thought for a short moment, drawing nearer him, and looping her arm about Calon’s. “I am sorry he chose to handle it in such a way though. It was highly inappropriate,” she said firmly. “Though I am sorry that I teased him in response. I think it phased poor Gilwen more than it did him. Both of us are truly, irrevocably insensitive.”
“Should I take you home? Or do I have time to take you for a bit of a longer excursion first?”
“Do not take me home yet,” Beleth pleaded slightly, holding onto Calon’s arm now with both hands, and letting her shoulder to press softly against him. Her voice had dropped lower, and she was in utter contentment with the man beside her. “I would much rather stay with you,” she smiled up at him.
--- And so, as two grew nearer, the other two were distanced. As they had left the home on the sixth tier, Faeldor knew not what to do with Gilwen. Even on their very first outing, he had held her hand in the night, and now it seemed that even a small touch would be an obtrusive measure.
For a moment, he had not thought, and his arm had intrinsically gone to the woman’s waist, though, it was then that he recalled Rosiel’s boot, and in knowledge of the tenderness that must reside there, his fingers had barely touched her before he retracted them.
The stable master simply walked beside the lady, his hands clasped behind his back as the long walk to the first tier progressed, for he knew not what to do with them.
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Gilwen
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There are times when silence has the loudest voice.[Mo0:0]
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Post by Gilwen on Nov 26, 2009 14:15:01 GMT -5
Gilwen had tried to keep herself together for the remaining time she was in the gardens. What a task it proved to be! She accepted Meleth’s kiss, though blushed more as it brought the thoughts of the little boy’s forward motions with her to the forefront of her mind once more. She bit goodnight to all of the family, and then watched as Faeldor stepped forward to take her home. He remarked lightly, for his eyes were certainly glittering, over the matter of Faelon’s spying, though she replied perhaps with little thought in a hurried and embarrassed way, “Yes, somehow. But wherever would he have seen such a thing?” Her brow furrowed in a frown. Did people watch her ministrations with Faeldor, even when she thought she was alone? How many others had seen them embrace and kiss in such a way? Oh, if word were to get back to her father…perhaps the rumors about her harlotry were based on such displays as well as that foul rumor that had spurred from Miriel’s and Durion’s lips. She had walked with Faeldor soundlessly after the first remark; the woman was entirely too distraught to truly render any words at the moment. So many things had been thrust upon her this evening by way of ideas that she was unsure of what to make of it all. Likely, she mused in a somewhat dour inward sigh, it might take some time to sort it all. Her steps were, perhaps, extra careful for her back still pained a slight, but the woman merely huddled within herself, and let herself stay quiet to not display such pain or discomfort. Indeed, Faeldor himself seemed unsure of how to handle it all himself; they had hardly touched one another since they had left his home. His hand had snaked around her for the briefest moment, though the woman startled and he had taken his hand away before she could really register what had occurred. She still loved him. Gilwen knew this, and chanced a glance upward to his face, before minding again her steps. They were reaching the lowest level of the city, and the number of people on the street were high. It was certainly a bustle—which made Gilwen’s thoughts all the more rampant. The taverns were full and well-lit. And women stood waiting for them to emerge and to come to them. Gilwen stepped a slight closer to the stable master as they continued down their way; a few men had certainly eyed her as a woman of such service, and a few had even dared speak out and try to get her attentions in that way. It had only grown worse since the first day; Gilwen could already tell that her reputation, however falsely earned, had begun to spread amongst the first tier like a wildfire to all the wrong people. A part of her heart fell, and she wondered quietly if any of such things had reached her parents ears, or, if Faeldor was aware of the change himself. -- It had been an incredibly slow night for her. Perhaps a mere two men came and made inquiries, only one of which had actually accepted her offer and business. It had to be her age; there was no other reason for it. The younger and prettier girls were snatching up the most eager men for themselves. But this woman was far from being unattractive. She was Shania, a graceful and lovely woman that was in her mid forties; ample curls of the darkest brown, and seductively keen brown eyes. She had been working among the lower tiers since she lost her job in the palace at the age of two and twenty. She had never had this much trouble coming to work before. In truth, it was strange—many a man still eagerly eyed her as she stood amongst the shadows of the stone building, her rose-red dress being advertisement enough of her shapely body and position. A harlot; though Shania preferred to think herself a hard-working woman. She had to do anything she could to keep food on her own table and a roof over her head. She had no family to care for—the closest she had come to marrying was many years ago, a man who had promised to get her out of this hell she lived in. Such dreams had come to an end, though, for he had moved away and not returned as he had promised. And so she had fended for herself among the lower tiers of Minas Tirith. Her brown eyes flew over the streets, trying more than anything to locate a man that would take her and use her. But most were already in the company of another. She took a few graceful steps down the street, trying to make herself not seem too eager. Indeed, desperation was not something that won a customer. But none seemed approachable. She turned, beginning to head back up the street to perhaps claim a different part of the tier—this one was particularly busy—when she saw him. He was a handsome young man, tall with broad shoulders and chest. Lovely grey eyes nestled into a noble face and with arms that displayed quite the strength from him, even through his tunic and shirts. But this man was not alone, either. He walked with a small woman—she could not possibly be older than eighteen. She was so very petite, and clearly uncomfortable in her surroundings. She frowned. That was a girl, not a woman. Whatever interest could he hold in a harlot of that sort? Surely such a nervous woman could offer him no service he would desire. She adjusted her dress and messed with her hair momentarily. This could be the break she had been waiting for all evening—this man would surely value a woman. It was probably simply the fact he could find no other form of satiation—though, Shania was quite intrigued by this. He reminded her a slight of the man that had promised her escape. Something within her would not have let her pass him by. She waited a few more moments until they were both closer, and she stepped forward, blocking their path effortlessly. “My lord,” she said, her voice a sultry velvet that had been perfected for her years of soliciting. “If it is company you desire, you should not look for it in a child.” She let her eyes flick to the young lady beside him and then she turned her eyes back to the man. “She shall not be nearly as satisfying as a real woman.” She smiled again, and added in a rather hushed tone, “For it is those who have the experience.” Gilwen was certainly startled by the bold approach of the lady toward them both. She and Faeldor had been enjoying a nice walk home—or as nice as it could warrant when among the first tier. Her little face though was clearly a bit distressed—especially as the woman began to speak. A child? Gilwen was not a little girl. And why did people keep drawing such words from their mouths? What could possibly make her not a “real” woman? Gilwen could not understand; what was it that made a woman “real” as opposed to false? She frowned lightly and looked up at Faeldor quickly before turning her gaze back to the bold woman who had stepped out before her. -- “It is fine, Bel. You have nothing to apologize for. Indeed, I could not even venture to say your brother needs to apologize; he is the man of the house, and also my superior.” Calon laughed a bit at the thought. Meddling in the familial affairs of the stable master was probably not proper, though the man was not about to let Beleth slide away simply because of a family relationship. “But yes, the lady did seem a bit unnerved.” He realized immediately that such was not a comforting thing to say, so immediately rambled on into, “Though, your brother shall be able to handle it fine, I am certain. They do make a pair,” and the man averted his gaze. Silently he hoped Beleth had not grown more anxious over his slip of tongue. “I would much rather stay with you.” Calon smiled down at her, his blue eyes dancing a bit with a pride that he could not even hide from himself. She desired to stay, did she? “Well then, I shan’t take you home yet. Perhaps a walk about to the palace courtyard?” It was mundane, and Calon was a bit embarrassed he had suggested such a thing. Still, both Bel and himself were active and thrived in such exercise. Such an activity was surely something both would enjoy. Aside, the night was lovely and the stars were quite clear. “I do believe that my favorite thing about Minas Tirith,” he observed rather brightly, smiling to Beleth handsomely, “is the fact it is layered. I was not quite certain I would like a closed city—I do enjoy my freedom—but this,” he motioned to the sky. “We are so much closer to the stars this way. It is like being freed from everything on the top tier.” He laughed slightly. “Though, they do still lack any game I could hunt. But, such a thing is not too far away from the walls. This could be the finest city in Gondor.”
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Faeldor
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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 Nov 26, 2009 19:59:33 GMT -5
The mind of the Stable Master was not filled with such nervous thoughts; in fact, the thoughts that roved through his mind were indeed upon when Faelon had witnessed such an act; yet, he was still amused by it. Did the young boy copy him so! Well, at least if he were to see such actions, it would indeed be good for him to learn to treat a lady gently. Faeldor would never set a poor example.
Perhaps, he thought, it was time to instruct the young boy on the rights of manhood. Meleth had handled such things with the girls, but after all, Faeldor was Faelon’s supreme male role model, and it should be him to teach such a thing. But at eight years old! He almost chuckled to himself; his heart in a rather light mood, despite the fact that he walked beside Gilwen without touching her as he wished.
He sighed, watching her every so often as they went. She watched him as well, it seemed, for once or twice they did catch each other’s eyes; and her gaze upon him was soft. He knew that Gilwen was not angry with him; yet it seemed she was indeed stressed beyond her limit. Perhaps before they came to her household, they might find a place alone; and he might embrace her and lend her comforting words, that he might leave her with a smile and a bit of reassurance.
However, it was not to be. The first tier had brought Gilwen near him again. He would not have her distanced in a place like this, no matter of her discomfort in being seen walking with him. Still, he did not hold her as he walked, the way he would have on most occasions. It was not until a figure came out of the shadows and stood in their path, that his hand moved protectively a front of Gilwen to still her steps.
“My lord…”
The voice was smooth as honey, and well practiced it seemed. Faeldor did not need to look or think twice to know of which type of lady was speaking with him. She was beautiful indeed; though older it seemed. Perhaps nearing in age to his own mother; and with age came confidence. This he saw as she continued her appeal. She was obviously not a shy one.
“If it is company you desire, you should not look for it in a child…She shall not be nearly as satisfying as a real woman.”
A real woman. Why was this brought up again? This woman had obviously not heard Rosiel’s earlier arguments, yet she spoke in the same words, and even tone of voice. Was such a thing as one calling themselves, a real woman supposed to send him into a fit of seduction? What power did those two think that they had over him? He frowned. His Gilwen was very much real, and very much a woman. And he would never dare to mention a loud to another but the lady herself, that she was indeed satisfying. His hand strayed protectively at her waist, yet he was still lost of words as the harlot before him continued.
“For it is those who have the experience.”
Faeldor was staring, perhaps his mouth agape. No woman had ever approached him in such a manner before; even on this very tier. Not that he would ever wish such a thing! He looked to Gilwen for a moment, it took him a time before he responded; “I beg your pardon, milady, but I am not looking for company nor experience.”
“I am merely walking my Lady home,” he continued quickly. Even this woman before him, a complete stranger, had assumed the worst in his Gilwen. He did not wish others to look upon her, and see something foul and dirty. A street walker. What was it that they saw about her, that gave them such opinion on first sight? He glanced again to her. Gilwen’s face was set in frown.
There was nothing that anyone would take such conjecture! The young woman took care of her appearance as she could; and Faeldor knew that she made effort to look nice for him. Yet it was not in the way of the harlot that she did so. She did not paint her face, nor set her hair in hot irons. True, she did wear a colored dress this evening, which was even out of her ordinary; yet even that was modest and simple.
Despite the strain of the current and previous situations, Faeldor took a step nearer Gilwen, and his arm went fully about her waist, holding her at his side, as if to prove his point. Truth be told, it was to set his words as viable, yet at the same time, he was nervous that the woman would do something to strike out at her! Rosiel had uttered the very same words and then proceeded to kick his sweet one in retribution when she became angered. No one would dare touch his Starlight if she were in the shield of his arms though, he assured himself.
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Gilwen
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There are times when silence has the loudest voice.[Mo0:0]
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Post by Gilwen on Nov 26, 2009 20:48:08 GMT -5
The events were brash; Gilwen’s mind could hardly begin to understand and make sense of such things. She often feared the approach of a man in search of satiation and pleasure. But this! She never dreamed a woman would try and have their way with him, though she certainly understood perhaps the draw they felt to him. He was, by far, the cleanest of the men upon the street this evening. And he was certainly fair to look at.
She looked up to him now, but his face seemed rather surprised. He had pulled her close, encircling her waist with his hand; certainly, for a moment she mused she could handle such a closeness. It might deter the woman’s advances, and her mind was working too quickly to draw any blush or discomfort by the motion rather than the short pang in her back.
“I beg your pardon, milady, but I am not looking for company nor experience.”
“Well, it is certainly clear that you are not seeking experience,” Shania mused aloud, stepping forward once more, shifting her eager eyes to Gilwen for further assessment. “If you were looking for that, you certainly wouldn’t have chosen her for your company this evening. I must ask, dear, how do you even keep steady work? You cannot have that many customers being as timid as you are.”
Gilwen was slightly at edge by such an assessment. Still, before she could speak at all on her behalf, Faeldor had interjected with more words. “I am merely walking my Lady home.”
“Your lady, hm?” The words hummed from the pretty lips as Shania looked to him once more. “I do suppose that answers how you keep steady work,” she said to Gilwen without even offering her a glance. Instead, she held a steady gaze with Faeldor’s grey eyes. “It seems you only need please this one. He calls you his.” Her voice dropped a bit, and for a moment she thought of warning her. Nothing came from men who claimed you as their own; they only left. She knew. Instead, she changed tactic and replaced her seductively sultry smile.
“But it is only because you do not know the value of years.” She was impressively close. All she need do was reach out her hand and she could have touched either of the two. Though, for the moment she refrained her hands and instead used her eyes on the young man. “Come now,” her voice dropped even lower and she inched a bit closer. “Do not try and tell me that you have never thought of years and age as an advantage. Do you not wish to try it, dear? You shan’t be disappointed.”
There was a beat of silence and then the woman stepped even closer and let her smooth hands rise and trail down the front of Faeldor’s tunic. Delicate touches she used; all the best she had to give, for the advantage of luring him away from the child. “You are tense,” she observed in a rather sensual manner. “If you come with me, I shall have you feeling quite well in no time, in a way she will not be able to.”
It was a reflex. Gilwen’s little face certainly was set quite sternly, but her hand clamped down quite efficiently on the fair wrist Shania was using to stroke her Faeldor’s chest; something that the little woman felt ignited a flame of jealousy within her. A protectiveness. This man that she loved should not suffer such touches. He would not let a man touch her in that way. “My lady,” she said sternly. “It would be well to keep your hands to yourself.” The words, perhaps were a bit sharp, though still quiet.
This was not what their evening needed. This was almost too much to bear. Her nerves were so taught, and Gilwen couldn’t remember being this stiff. “Would it?” Shania’s voice was a bit surprised, but still forceful. “I do believe that is up to him,” she added with another seductive look to the man, raising her other hand to run down his arms.
“You do need to relax,” she added again. “I can give you all evening if you’d like.”
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Faeldor
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Post by Faeldor on Nov 26, 2009 21:50:46 GMT -5
“Well, it is certainly clear that you are not seeking experience. If you were looking for that, you certainly wouldn’t have chosen her for your company this evening. I must ask, dear, how do you even keep steady work? You cannot have that many customers being as timid as you are.”
My! But the woman was brash! It seemed that she was even wordier than Faeldor himself, for she gave him no word edgewise.
“Your lady, hm? I do suppose that answers how you keep steady work. It seems you only need please this one. He calls you his.”
Faeldor’s face was a bit in awe, yet he felt he needed to give explanation on behalf of both Gilwen and himself. If it were only to this meager harlot. He hated that people misjudged his actions. “You are misunderstanding. She is not in your line of work,” he said shortly, defending Gilwen, and frowning as he went. “And I am bound to her… she is mine,” he said protectively, his hand softly pressing Gilwen’s side. “I do not desire another.”
“But it is only because you do not know the value of years. Come now, do not try and tell me that you have never thought of years and age as an advantage. Do you not wish to try it, dear? You shan’t be disappointed.”
Faeldor looked closely at the woman as she spoke. It was not evident from further away by the state of her dress and actions; yet at this distance it was obvious that the woman before him was quite mature in years. Her eyes were still bright and lovely; but they were creased at the corners, and her skin was not as smooth as his own Gilwen’s. Her age was evident. For Eru’s sake… she was at least his mother’s age. The though both shocked and sickened him. Of course had not thought of years and age as advantage!
Of course Faeldor had held thoughts on women; he was a man after all; but even as a youth he had never attempted to go any further than kiss a woman. He had always held the idea in him that he would be in all intimate ways, for his wife alone. And even with Gilwen; perhaps his actions and thoughts had gone further; for he knew that he loved her, that they would one day be wed, and their union would be blessed. They had come close to proceeding in their relationship; yet even with such a thing stated, he had not, and he very well enjoyed Gilwen the age that she was! He closed his eyes for a long moment, entirely tense at the thought of what this woman was continually suggesting for him, and he drew Gilwen nearer him in his arm.
Before he knew what to do with himself; the experienced woman’s hand was upon his chest, caressing him in a way that no stranger should ever touch a man. He was shocked. Rosiel had tried her best to sway him in such a way over the years; and she had never been successful. Perhaps in his youth, a girl or two had touched him in such a way. And more recently, his dear Gilwen. Yet this… he could not get out of his mind the fact that she was the age of his mother. “You are tense. If you come with me, I shall have you feeling quite well in no time, in a way she will not be able to.” Faeldor frowned considerably, yet Gilwen spoke for him.
“My lady. It would be well to keep your hands to yourself.” Gilwen had grasped the wrist of the hand that was upon him, and the stable master was quite grateful! He did not know what to do. Should it have been a man assaulting them, or saying such things to Gilwen, he would have given him a stern fist to the face. Yet, this was a woman; and even more, a woman the age of his mother. How was he supposed to handle such a thing? Faeldor’s upbringing had led him to treat all women with gentleness; but what would his mother say to a thing such as this?
With Rosiel, he had been rough; it was certain; but she had been aggressive, and injured his Lady. It had been well within his right to grasp her the way he had; yet this harlot before him had not been violent, and so as much as he wished to shove her off, it would not be within his mind to do so. She began to speak again, as he opened his mouth to send her off.
“Would it? I do believe that is up to him… You do need to relax. I can give you all evening if you’d like.”
“I should not be needing your evening,” Faeldor snapped, a bit gruffly; for the way the woman had spoken to Gilwen had upset him. “I am not in need of your business, or your services. Or… or anything,” he stuttered, stepping backwards, and pulling Gilwen with him as he went. “This conversation is over.” And even as he said it, he moved and took up his stride again, walking more quickly than he usually would have with Gilwen at his side; yet he felt it necessary. His breath was quickened, and perspiration beaded on his forehead; though not from the speed of pace, but the nervousness that Shania had placed in him. Who was she to be so brash!
Shania left behind and out of range; Faeldor slowed again. Now they were near Gilwen’s own home, and he had once again lost his chance to hold onto the last moments of their evening and be with her alone. He sighed, stopping in his tracks, about two houses down from her doorstep. In case one should look out the window; they should not be able to tell the silhouettes of the two from this distance, he mused. He loosened his hold on Gilwen, and moved to stand affront of her, holding both her arms in his hands. It was evident that he was beyond his breaking point at the moment; for his own arms were trembling in their tension, and his face was drawn once more.
“She was entirely out of her league,” he muttered to Gilwen, shaking his head. The man was still distraught and shocked. “I should never desire another; you know that, my dear one.” Faeldor’s eyes softened as they looked upon Gilwen. “Oh, has tonight been wretched.” The man frowned, sighing, and looking up to the sky to regain himself. First Rosiel, and now this.
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Gilwen
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Post by Gilwen on Nov 26, 2009 22:34:39 GMT -5
“And I am bound to her… she is mine.”
“Bound to her? My lord, you are not wed.” Shania looked down to both of heir hands as if to verify. “And even then, in my business it will not matter if you are or not.”
This sentence stung the ears of Shania, though set beautifully in the ears of Gilwen, who felt the protective hand against her side. She, though, was quite flustered by this entirely. Would the woman simply not go elsewhere for her company this evening? Faeldor was clearly not interested. But she was right about his tenseness; as Gilwen was drawn closer, she was able to better feel it. And such a thing infuriated her more.
“I am not in need of your business, or your services. Or… or anything.”
My, Faeldor was nervous. As Gilwen finally released the filthy harlot’s wrist, and was whisked away, she tried to slow the pace. “Fael,” she could hardly keep up with his strides. Indeed, she was nearly running to stay beside him. Still, he soon stopped himself, though they were quite near her own home, the familiar gentle firing burning visibly through the window.
“I should never desire another; you know that, my dear one.”
He was entirely distraught. Gilwen could see it in his eyes, feel it in his arms and hands that were holding her. She frowned upward at him. “Fael,” once again her will to mother overtook her. She raised her own hands to touch his face and quell his tension. Goodness, his arms were trembling by the stress! “Fael, I do know it. She was out of line,” her words sounded calm, though perhaps inwardly she was not so well-kept herself. Still, he was clearly worked up over this; something that Gilwen had not seen as clearly as she was seeing it now. Gentle fingers wiped away the beads of sweat that had gathered upon him before working down over his arms.
“Oh, has tonight been wretched.”
“Fael…” She sighed, releasing her gentle ministrations on his arm muscles in favor of holding once again his fair face. “Do not let it trouble you. Please,” she added quietly. “I wish you to be calm before you head home.” Something could so easily happen if someone was taken unaware; oh, and he was in such a state.
She had never seen him like this! It was unnerving to her, for indeed to see her beloved so discomposed set her own self to grow anxious. Just looking at him was making her stomach tighten.
Her fingers stroked his cheek slowly. “She is gone; I should not let her touch you,” she murmured soothingly.
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Faeldor
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Post by Faeldor on Nov 26, 2009 23:53:41 GMT -5
“She is gone; I should not let her touch you.” Gilwen’s voice was sweet in his ears, and soothing; as compared to the cougar who had been stalking her young prey. Faeldor’s muscles lost some of their tension, though his mind was not at ease.
“Nothing matters in that business, does it?” he groaned slightly, though Gilwen’s hands upon him were comforting. He sighed at the touch upon his cheek, looking back down on Gilwen, and letting his hand along her arm. “To think that that woman has sabatoged the lives of so many married men even. For heavens sake… her business does not give care to anything.”
“How can one… how…” Faeldor had to take a breath before he continued. “How can one look at you, and even think that you are like that. To even assume… how could they think it? You are so sweet.” He seemed to ramble as he spoke. “You are nothing like that woman. Why should she assume that I would desire her company? Or any young man for that matter. For the love of Eru, she is at least the age of my mother.” He grimaced.
As he spoke, he let his arms down along the woman, and rested his hands upon her waist, finally slipping them behind her back to embrace her lightly, though not yet drawing her closer.
“The only thing you have in common with those women is… that you are beautiful. Yet when you are near them, you see that their eyes are stone cold and hungry. There is no softness to them. Not like yours. Why do they become such things? Why would one wish to not know real love? I know that no true lady would willingly choose such a work. I know that you would come to me for help before you would ever conform to such a thing,” he muttered, assuring himself, and sighing, as he caught his breath and calmed. Faeldor would ever protect Gilwen from falling into such business. There would never be a need.
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Gilwen
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Post by Gilwen on Nov 27, 2009 0:21:34 GMT -5
Gilwen let him ramble. At times, it was all that Faeldor needed to calm himself. She, though, was happy to let him use her ears for his own comfort. He had been viciously tested this evening by both Rosiel and now this woman, a walker of the streets. A woman that was nothing like her.
“You are nothing like that woman. Why should she assume that I would desire her company? Or any young man for that matter. For the love of Eru, she is at least the age of my mother.”
The man moved his hands to lightly embrace her, though Gilwen did not yet protest. All of her earlier qualms and fears had been stilled a slight by the need to calm her beloved Faeldor. He was in quite a state, still. She would gladly stand here for a time, though, until his words had run their course, and he was in a state fit to go home. She would care for him; she loved him.
The softness that had come into her eyes at the thought seemed only to grow. She was nothing like that harlot. She would care for this man, and someday, their marriage. She would not seek to break its bonds or those of anyone else's. This was the man she would love until her last breath. Her match, and her only.
A small silence came, and her touches had indeed turned even more gentle, and the woman had begun to move a bit closer. Not terribly so that she would look or seem imposing; drawn, perhaps, to the closeness she adored to share with the stable master. But his words immediately stilled her.
“The only thing you have in common with those women..."
Common with those women? She repeated such a thought out loud, her mind overrunning her tongue. "My beauty is in common with them, Faeldor? Do I truly look so aged beyond my years?" She asked softly, though perhaps a bit edgy. She immediately moved back the distance she had crept forward, and stiled her stroking fingers upon his face. He thought she held the same beauty as a woman that was so used and touched by men, that their very lives had been stolen from them? Their eyes were lifeless at times. The women were shells. Was she a shell, then, too? Perhaps Beleth had been right after all--her brother simply desired a skirt.
The woman frowned, though as he finished. "I know that you would come to me for help before you would ever conform to such a thing.” "Come to you?" She repeated a bit sharply, dropping her hands to her sides once more, and took another step away, not allowing his arms a chance to draw her closer or tighten to still such an escape. Instead she just looked at him. "I would not resort to selling myself, Faeldor." Her voice was quiet, though certainly stern. "Whether I knew you or not." How could he think that she would work herself in such a way? Did he think she would stoop so low if he were not with her? Did her own upbringing mean nothing?
"My Mama and my Papa," perhaps she mentioned her father as a point to set Faeldor to minding his words. "They have raised me well enough, and I would sooner have nothing at all then lose myself to some drunken man." Her eyes burned a bit at the thought. Surely he knew that, did he not? Could he love her, as he claimed, and not know her at all? Perhaps that was what hurt her the most; for she did love him, and she wished for him to know her as she knew him.
She caught her breath and fought back the watering eyes she held, and kept her expression firm. Her little hands had worked themselves to fists by her sides, though, and she had a right mind to simply turn and walk to her door. It was only two houses away, after all, and she would be sure to be able to reach it safely. Still, despite her anger with the man before her, she was not about to step into the bounds of rudeness.
"It is late," she said. "You should be on your way home." Her voice slowly worked its way down to a softer tone, and her eyes for a moment flashed a bit of the compassion they had held earlier. "Do be safe, Faeldor." She would see him the next morning. Unless he took her so wrongly here he did not return for her.
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Faeldor
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Post by Faeldor on Nov 27, 2009 21:17:50 GMT -5
His Lady had drawn near to him, and Faeldor was beginning to settle. My, but the women this evening had riled him surely! But now, those things could be forgotten, for sweet Gilwen was here with him, and oh, was she lovely. Her fingertips stilled his nerves away, and her closeness set his breathing at ease. When she did not object to his soft embrace, his hands gently drew her nearer for a few moments, until he made his mistake.
"My beauty is in common with them, Faeldor? Do I truly look so aged beyond my years?"
Faeldor smiled slightly as he answered, “Of course not, dear. You look younger than your age; you know this…” At first he thought that perhaps Gilwen’s words were jest, but her gentle fingers upon his cheeks stilled, and then she backed away from him, and was certainly upset seeming. He frowned slightly, reaching for her.
"Come to you? I would not resort to selling myself, Faeldor. Whether I knew you or not."
Gilwen stepped away from him now, and out of his grasp, evading the hands that were wont to comfort her. “I…” Faeldor began to protest, though Gilwen had in mind to speak, and gave him not the chance. Yet again! He had spoken too quickly, and without enough thought for his wording, and she had misunderstood, surely.
"My Mama and my Papa. They have raised me well enough, and I would sooner have nothing at all then lose myself to some drunken man."
“I did not say that you would,” Faeldor sighed, seeing that the line had been crossed, and he would not be able to step over it again this night. His arms fell back to his sides. Gilwen was about to cry, and the man only wished to step forward and take her against him, to calm her and assure her that he knew she would never convict herself to the same end as those women of the streets. However, at this time, he knew she would push away from him; and all things would be made worse.
Now, it seemed, that she was to move back toward her house. After the days events, Faeldor was surprised that she simply did not just turn and go. She had been insulted and mocked more than anyone deserved. Yet, even in her anger, her eyes were still compassionate, and she still held concern for him. He could see it.
"It is late. You should be on your way home. Do be safe, Faeldor.”
“You know that I love you, Gilwen,” was all the stable master could say. Of course he would see her in the morning again; and perhaps things would even out on their long walk to the seventh tier together. At least he would hope so. Faeldor would never leave his dear Lady to walk alone so far and through such a dangerous area; even if she neither looked at him, nor spoke a single word! He would always walk beside her.
Though, he hated to end the evening on such a note; for he never wished to leave her in state of anger or questioning again, after the events of their first troubled space. Yet, what was he to do? He could not sit atop her doorstep all evening, no. But, he would return for her in the morning as he always did, and offer her his arm. He loved her! He could not simply let her stressed mood, and worried thoughts take her away from him. He closed his eyes for a moment, standing still in his place; determined not to leave until sweet Gilwen made her way through the safety of her door. And then, he began the long walk home.
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Gilwen
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Post by Gilwen on Nov 27, 2009 23:26:18 GMT -5
“You know that I love you, Gilwen.”
Gilwen looked upon him, her eyes quite soft and calm, though her stance was still distant. After a mere moment of silence, she replied quite tenderly, “Yes, Fael. I do. And you know that I love you.” She replied, lingering only a moment so that he could rightly see it in her eyes. It was then the woman turned away, whispering, “I shall see you tomorrow morning.”
She looked away and began to head to her house quickly, keeping her eyes lowered, and mind as blank as she could force it to be. Indeed, if she thought much, she would turn into a ball of hysterics. Not today; it had been a rough evening, but it had not been too horrible. She still had Faeldor, even is she had distanced herself for the last bit of the evening. It would all be okay.
She shut the door behind her.
--
Nobody had taken her. Still, this late in the evening, no business had come her way. Shania was elegantly prowling the streets, eyes flicking from man to man as they passed her by. So long, she had worked these streets so long! Why was it that now, after all of the prowess she had gathered, was business so hard to come by?
She was still valuable. She, oh the Valar knew, she was just as capable as any of the other harlots that sought after and pleased the men. Her temper was flaring. And they all seemed so nervous and uncoordinated. Like that child that had been at the arm of that man earlier. However could she keep and charm him? Shania herself could certainly perform any act she could, and with much more finesse.
She turned again, to work her way back down the street. Her elegant movements drew a few eyes, but none seemed inclined to approach her. How aggravating! How was she to purchase groceries for the week if none took her?
Then, something caught her eye.
There he was. The handsome one from earlier. He still looked tense, perhaps more so. Something glinted within her brown eyes. The downtrodden souls were always the easiest to take. She put on a sultry smile and sauntered over. “My lord, it does seem that she finished with you far too early. Certainly you were not fully satisfied.” She looked to the man’s grey eyes with a deep, and seductive glance.
“Perhaps now you would like to reconsider my offer?” Her voice was light, velvety and prodding. Surely now he would allow her to take him to some hotel room. It would be a nice enough way to earn a bit of money this evening. “Even if it takes all night, I shall give you precisely what you want.”
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Faeldor
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Post by Faeldor on Nov 27, 2009 23:54:40 GMT -5
Faeldor was tense; indeed he was. He was innumerably frustrated to have left Gilwen in the state that he did. It was not in his nature to see any lady in such distress and leave her to herself; let alone Gilwen. He would have stayed with her until she was quite content and calm, even if it meant standing in the street until the late hours of the night.
However, now that she had turned and left him in the street, he just wished to be in his home. Certainly his pillow would be well desired by the time he made it to the sixth tier. He frowned, his face set, and his muscles taught as he continued at a quickened pace through the narrow streets of the first tier.
“My lord, it does seem that she finished with you far too early. Certainly you were not fully satisfied.”
Faeldor near jumped out of his skin at the voice. It had by all means not been a quiet walk, yet just the sound of the voice, and the nearness of it, made Faeldor to know that it was directed toward him. His eyes flashed to the woman who was trying to stop him in his tracks. He frowned, offended more now than he had been even when Gilwen was at his side; for she was yet again convicting her of harlotry!
Could none leave such a matter! “I tell you once more; that that woman is my betrothed, and I simply walked her to her home; for these streets are too dangerous for one so innocent as her to be wandering on alone.” His voice was slightly sharp; and perhaps his remark would not cut the woman; though indeed it had the possibility of it. Faeldor in no way approved of the work that the women of the streets preformed,
“Perhaps now you would like to reconsider my offer? Even if it takes all night, I shall give you precisely what you want.”
“Milady, I do not wish for your services,” Faeldor stated, pausing in his steps for just a moment as the lady caught his eye. Gracious, her eyes. There was no loveliness in such things. He mused sadly for a moment on Gilwen’s eyes; and wished wholeheartedly that it was she he was looking up and conversing with, and not this confounded woman on the street. His mother’s age! Gracious, was she not fortunate enough to have a son to care for her, that she must turn to this business.
“Precisely what I wish for right now, is to be asleep in my own bed. Can you give me that?” He asked gruffly, then realized that conversing with the woman was useless, and turned to continue on down the street; muttering under his breath.
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Gilwen
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Post by Gilwen on Nov 28, 2009 0:09:07 GMT -5
“I tell you once more; that that woman is my betrothed, and I simply walked her to her home; for these streets are too dangerous for one so innocent as her to be wandering on alone.”
“Your betrothed?” Her question in response was actually a tad impressed. A part of her was a bit pained by the recollection of broken promises that had been made to her before. “Well, it might do you some good to experience other things before settling for that one,” she observed rather lowly, trying once more to sound alluring, though for a moment the woman felt as if her bravado was gone. “I shan’t tell her. The child shall not know.” Secrecy was one of a harlot’s greatest assets aside from her bed favor.
“Precisely what I wish for right now, is to be asleep in my own bed. Can you give me that?”
Faeldor had turned from her, and Shania’s smile took on a very sensual nature to it, and her delicate hand reached out to grasp the man’s arm. She stilled him long enough to walk nearer him. “I can do you better than that,” she whispered heatedly. “It is a cool night,” she looked upward to the glittering stars in the sky as if to motion to the air itself. “A man such as you should not have to sleep alone,” she smiled, and let her fingertips trace down his muscled arms.
“It does seem you have held a strained evening.” Shania looked upward into his eyes once more. “I can release all of your tension,” her voice dropped utterly low, and the velvet tone laced back into her words. “I know of a hotel that is only a short distance from here. Your home must be far up in the city, you are dressed too finely for the company of the lower tiers.” She had observed this, of course, with the years of experience she had acquired in her service. “Why not join me there, and rest? If you think her worthy of your attention, I am surely no different.” Her fingers traced intricate designs upon his chest.
“Rest your boots beneath my bed this evening.”
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Faeldor
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Post by Faeldor on Nov 28, 2009 0:31:43 GMT -5
“…The child shall not know.” “For Eru’s sake, she is the same age as me,” Faeldor said frustrated. He did not wish to be known as one who took such company with children; for that was not the truth. “And you are old enough to be our mother,” he added, a bit harshly. “I already told you once, that I do not care for experience.”
He should not have even said it. He should have just walked away silently, for Shania seemed to play at each of his words. “I can do you better than that. It is a cool night. A man such as you should not have to sleep alone.”
“I am quite fine, truly. It is only midsummer; the nights are still hot enough for me, and by the time the nights grow truly cool, I shall be wed to my beloved and she will help me to warm my own bed just fine,” Faeldor argued slightly; attempting to prove his point. As much as he should have just remained silent, he could not, for he was a man of words. However he did brush Shania’s hand off his arm.
“It does seem you have held a strained evening. I can release all of your tension.” Did Shania ever know what a strained evening Faeldor had held; and she was certainly not helping it at this very moment. Faeldor was quite certain there was nobody to ease his strain other than his Gilwen, and perhaps his own mother… though, as Faeldor thought of his mother, his eyes widened even more, and he recalled his disgust of the woman beside him. For crying out loud; she was at least Meleth’s age, and faithful to no man! Faeldor felt his muscles tremor. There was certainly no way that she would release any tension from him this evening.
“Why not join me there, and rest? If you think her worthy of your attention, I am surely no different.”
Heaven on earth! How could this woman be in any way similar to Gilwen! “Believe me, you are completely different! She is worthy of all my attention, and I should say that I have none left for one such as you.” His words were harsh, and perhaps even degrading to the woman. But Faeldor would not consort with a harlot! True, had it been a woman in need speaking with him, or had she come in any other way; perhaps he would have had pity for her. But for this woman, there was none! She was brash and would not let him be, and she continually spoke ill of his Gilwen.
“Rest your boots beneath my bed this evening.”
“My boots shall be beneath no bed but my own!” Faeldor answered bluntly, attempted to shake the woman off his clothing. He could not bring himself to strike her away as he wished to; but he pulled the cloth of his tunic from her grip and continued to walk toward his home.
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