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 Mar 25, 2009 19:03:13 GMT -5
"waif"–noun 1. a person, esp. a child, who has no home or friends. 2. something found, esp. a stray animal, whose owner is not known. 3. a stray item or article: to gather waifs of gossip. 4. lost or unclaimed person or thing
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Hot and muggy, with overcast sky and dark clouds rolling in from the west, there was sure to be a spectacular storm this afternoon, or perhaps even into the evening. It was all the chatter in the palace, for everyone wished it to come sooner, for the humidity was unbearable. The kitchens were a horrendous heat today.
Even the smell of the food, which would normally satiate the senses of anyone was a burden, and made the atmosphere all the worse. Nobody wished to eat in such weather, but only to drink cold water, and get through the hottest portion of the day so that the cool evening would come. For the kitchen staff, there was a mid morning break this day. The next meals were not to be too strenuous, for a light menu was set.
Miriel, Faeldor’s sister, was on a mission, and that mission was that she needed to say some things to one of the palace servants, who had stepped far out of her place the day previous. Miriel had been awake for certain, the night before, when her brother had returned home from his little escapades on the plains with the woman. Miriel had waited for hours while her brother had abandoned her.
Faeldor was supposed to return home after his workday, and accompany Miriel to the home of Agladir and Rosiel. Agladir was a friend of his… well, perhaps an acquaintance. But Rosiel was her own friend. They were to have supper together and participate in sophisticated behavior. None of this running about with horses and climbing into caves at night. Faeldor had never directly agreed to go with Miriel, but he would have had he actually returned home.
Instead! What had he done? He had gone off one a run about with one of the little servant girls of the palace. A little lower-class, ugly thing, that had no right to be alone with her brother, nor to indulge him in such behaviours. He had come home all aglow with satisfaction from the evening. Miriel had not once been able to convince her brother to spend alone moments with Rosiel, who all but loved him and had known him for years, but he goes out with servant who he had known less than a day. And he was so happy about it. He had spoken to Mother for near an hour on the matter! It was as if he had fallen in love with the little vagrant after one meeting. And he said he would meet with her again this day! How could mother agree that such was good? Did neither of them care at all for Miriel’s knowledge on the matter, and the good decisions she had made for her brother.
Then, oh, and this was what truly drove Miriel mad. When she had expressed her honest concern for her brother, and told him her thoughts; he had told her to nevermind. When she said she needed to talk to this girl and see what all his fuss was about, he had told her to leave her be. “Do not accost the poor lady. Let her be, and I shall bring her to meet you later in her own time.” He had told her. Later… Well there would not be a later. This needed to be cut off now, before it went too far.
So now instead of resting her weary feet during her break, she sought out the woman. After asking another servant, she learned that it was the laundry day, and that some of the girls were out in back with the washbasins, hurriedly trying to finish before the storms came in, for they would surely be penalized if their work was not finished on time. She quickly found them, and searched for Gilwen. Yes, that one was her, the one stooped and doing the scrubbing, while the others were wringing out aprons and cloths and hanging them to dry in the remaining good weather. That one was Gilwen though, the one with the old dress, and the unsightly hands; she knew it.
“Hm…” Miriel cleared her throat, looking at the woman stooped over her washing. She approached her and tapped her shoulder roughly. “Excuse me, Gilwen... is it? Oh great starlight maiden, I must have a word with you.” She used the words that her adoring brother had spoken the night before, when he had described his foolish outing to herself and Mother. Starlight maiden; starlight waif- morelike. This day, her voice was not sweet, and her glare was already fixed on the servant woman. “Excuse me.” Her voice rose louder this time, not having the patience to wait for the dratted woman to answer her. Then she looked about at the other servants. She did not wish any others to know about the travesty that had happened in such a noble family. “Go, go, leave us alone for a moment.” She dismissed them angrily, and because of her higher standing it would be in their best interests to leave.
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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 Mar 25, 2009 19:33:51 GMT -5
The humidity was almost completely unbearable, a storm promised by the sky and clouds for later that evening, or as early as that afternoon. It was this impending storm that had driven the laundress' outside early, where they moved quickly to finish their chores. All of the laundry in the entire palace, staff and Steward's, had to pass through the women's hands. It was surely a daunting task: to be faced with hundreds of garments that all needed to be tended to: the work which had destroyed Gilwen's hands over the years.
Though not one pair of the women's hands had been spared: for all took turns scrubbing, wringing and hanging the laundry keeping turns to make it so that not one woman tired of the job to quickly. Despite the hard work, Gilwen had always found it friendly---for in the laundry area, the servants were free to speak to one another, so long as it disturbed no one.
"Gilwen, your turn, dear." One of the older women called to the brunette as she worked her way back to her feet.
"Of course," Gilwen had responded, with quite a smile, as she finished wringing a cloth and placing it on a rack to dry. Wiping her chapped hands on her apron, she moved passed the woman and kneeled herself, picking up the next garment to be washed.
"What a smile you have today, my girl!" One of the ladies laughed taking the garments now dry and folding them neatly. "What on earth is going on in that pretty little head of yours?"
Gilwen looked up for a short moment and laughed with the others. "Would it disappoint you greatly if I told you it was nothing grand?" The look on the lady's face told her quickly that she wouldn't have believed her. "Let it suffice to say that I had quite an evening last night."
"Ah, all I did last night was rest. And was it overdue!" One of the other's sighed after the girlish laughter and teasing had ended. Gilwen respected that. Rest was always in short supply about the palace. Still, despite her tired body, her mind was rather awake. Last night had taken nothing from her work, which greatly pleased her. However, while she was working today, her mind seemed to be elsewhere. Counting down the seconds and the minutes until her break, when she fancied she head down to the stables---though perhaps not simply to see the horses this time. She had a mind to visit the stable master, however briefly they could catch each other.
A rough rap on her shoulder brought the girl back into the now, away from her thoughts, though it did cause her to drop the scrubber in the wash bin. "Excuse me, Gilwen... is it? Oh great starlight maiden, I must have a word with you." The words seemed cold, yet the name used was clearly familiar. Starlight maiden? Who in heaven's name called her that? She took her sleeve across her cheek, to wipe off the water she had splashed upon it as she scrubbed. She was in no way presentable at the moment, though someone was clearly seeking her. She turned her face upward to see a lovely young lady glaring down at her, asking the other women to leave.
It was about time for their break anyway. Still, they lingered around, giving Gilwen concerned glances. However, with a quick nod from her, they seemed to disperse.
"May I help you, my lady?" Gilwen asked politely, wiping her hands dry on her apron as she stood. This young woman she had seen around plenty, and had been warned of her sharp tongue and short temperament. Still, this wold have been the first time she had been specifically sought out to feel her wrath.
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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 Mar 25, 2009 19:59:38 GMT -5
Miriel waited patiently. Or as patiently as Miriel could wait, while the other women took their leave. Good. She thought to herself. At least there was some respect and decency left among the palace servants.
“Perhaps you do not know me… Gilwen… so I should remind you of who I am.” Miriel did her best to hold her temper in for the moment, speaking low enough so that it should not carry. The other servants were surely eaves dropping on her every word. All she wished to do was slap the girl and tell her of what a horrible disgrace she was, but she must hold her temper. She said the servants name as if it were a curse on her lips. Then she started; and once Miriel were to start on a rampage, there was nigh anything that could make her stop.
“I am Miriel, daughter of Faelon, and Meleth. I’m sure you know my mother. We work here in the kitchen. My mother is head of the Bakery. And my brother. You know him as well, do you not? My dear brother Faeldor is the head of the stables, and he does work directly with the Steward in his matters.” Miriel paused for a moment to breath; a grim smile on her face.
“Now let me see…” she glanced around them at the laundry, hanging to dry, and the pile yet to wash. “You are a servant here. I see you have the lovely job of scrubbing the floors, and washing the undergarments of the Captains of Gondor. What a lovely position; I bid you remember what it is. If I am to put this shortly, what you did last night with my brother was of an entirely inappropriate matter.”
Miriel was not sure where she was going with her argument; all she knew was that she was angry, and needed to take it out on someone; namely Gilwen, who had caused this mess. She stood over her, a slight bit taller than the woman, though she was a few years younger. “You best stay far away from him, and I do mean as such. He already comes home with enough manure stained on his clothes; he does not need a filthy servant girl to ruin his image. Our family’s image.”
The woman was close at hand, right in the face of the servant. To make matters worse, she had riled herself up so, that she had grasped Gilwen’s arm tightly as she spoke to her. The hands of one who spent her days kneading dough and chopping vegetables were rather strong, and were feign to leave a bruise, but Miriel had not mind to consider any others but herself.
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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 Mar 25, 2009 20:24:33 GMT -5
It was curious for Gilwen to be sought out like this. She tended to her work, with very little interruption for the most part. Her superiors generally let her work in peace---she had never truly ruined anything, and worked hard: something that didn't bring angry co-workers to her. Surely there was a reason for this heated visit.
The woman began with introductions, which was fine by Gilwen, since her name had escaped her. Though before she finished her explanation, the servant knew who this was. Miriel. Of course. A sickening feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. "I know your mother, and your brother." Gilwen stated. She was not one to lie. And here, it seemed that it would do her no good to deny the truth. Was there a crime in knowing someone?
Gilwen tried to be docile, still a bit of a temper flared in the back of her mind as Miriel insulted her work. While Gilwen would not call her work glamourous, she was proud to be a valuable worker. She used to think of herself as useless. A citizen of Gondor with no worth. Her mother assured her it was not the case. Inappropriate behavior?
"My lady I assure you, nothing inappropriate took place last evening!" Gilwen murmured quietly, yet fervently. Still only biting words followed.
"He already comes home with enough manure stained on his clothes; he does not need a filthy servant girl to ruin his image. Our family’s image."
Gilwen was struck silent, and her mouth dropped open quickly. A tear burned her eyes, though she quickly shook it off. "Then it is lucky for your brother that I am one to take good mind of cleanliness." Her tongue took on an edge. It was unlike her, though any dog will attack when cornered. And if thats what Miriel thought she was, why disappoint?
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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 Mar 25, 2009 20:50:16 GMT -5
“Your words of assurance mean as much to me as a dog’s vomit. Better that I toss them out with the garbage than give them any worth,” Miriel was intent on insulting the girl now, for she hated to be lied to, and she was sure that the filthy servants of the palace would not be truthful to her. She knew that they spoke words behind her back. If only she had known that those words were spoken because of her simply ardent attitude towards hating them.
When Gilwen lashed back at Miriel, the woman slapped the maid across the cheek, and hard. She deserved it after all. A servant could not speak to one of the daughters of Faelon in this way. Who did she think she was? Miriel would now be pleased to have words with Faeldor about the rude fashion in which she was spoken to.
“Faeldor was glowing with enthusiasm last night about dear, sweet, gentle Gilwen. ‘Oh, and her face shown so lovely in the moonlight, and her hands were elegant and dancing as she spun about. Never a more beautiful sight.’” Miriel mocked her brothers words now. “But look at you; cleanliness? Did you really just say such about yourself, for I see a disheveled little tattered girl. Look at your face, and your hands.” Miriel laughed. “What could he possibly see in such a repulsive little girl?” She grabbed Gilwen’s hand and held it up to the servants face. It seemed red and stiff from the cold laundry waters, and burned from the lye soap. Her hair was disheveled from her work, and her face smudged.
Miriel saw more and more every moment reasons for which Faeldor should give the girl no mind. Hm, perhaps she did not even need to talk to the silly thing any longer. She would speak again with Faeldor himself. Perhaps he just needed his senses back; to see the ugly thing in the light of day. He now hoped that he did come to the palace to find her as he said he would.
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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 Mar 25, 2009 21:06:28 GMT -5
Her words were worth more than that. She was certain, if she had had the opportunity to reply accordingly she would have spoken words that were quite less sharp, though with the same fervor. Gilwen, though, was struck across her cheek, that seemed to trigger a few of the tears she had bit back earlier to fall down her cheek, though she turned cold eyes to the girl before her.
She proceeded to mock Faeldor, that was clear. To insult the servant more-so with the words she chose to quote her brother by. As if it weren't enough, the lady continued to draw attention to the flaws Gilwen knew she already possessed. Her chapped, red hands, her disheveled appearance from the laundry work. She never made a claim to be beautiful.
"I have never dared called myself lovely, my lady." She muttered as her brown eyes were forced to gaze on her own hands. Hands that seemed alien to the rest of her. “What could he possibly see in such a repulsive little girl?” The question reverberated in her head, as a few more tears escaped her eyes.
"I know not what it is he claims to have seen. I would not see it myself." It was best to agree. Perhaps Miriel would take her own storm elsewhere, so that the servants could get back to tending their duties before the real one came. Still, the joy she had held that morning had vanished. Replaced forcibly with a heightened self awareness.
What would Miriel know of insecurity? The young woman was lovely. Tall, or at least taller than Gilwen, with lovely hair and eyes. Well-kept, and strong-willed, as was apparent by her tirade. She could only imagine how awful she looked at the moment. Wind playing at your hair all morning is sure to make any woman's hair a mess.
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Faeldor
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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 Mar 25, 2009 21:38:25 GMT -5
“Please do brother dearest a favor, and clean up a bit before he does come to pay you visit. Perhaps he shall see you in the light of day, and see the true image of his little starlight waif.” At that, Miriel smirked childishly, and made a point to quickly push Gilwen by both of her shoulders, and watched her fall among the dirty wash water. Miriel frowned for a moment; she did have a bit of decency after all, and knew that such was a foolish thing to do.
“There you go, clean up now, grimy and indecent thing. After all, Faeldor said that he would be paying you visit this morning. Best have him see you cleaned up.” Miriel laughed, almost hysterically for a moment. It served the girl right! She was a filthy liar after all. The second best thing would have been to have her wash her mouth out with soap; as Miriel had been punished many times as a youth.
At this, Miriel turned on her heels, and left, her pretty hair shining in the graying light, and her eyes with a glimmer. She took back into the great hall, to travel the corridors towards the kitchen. Perhaps her break had been worthwhile.
As the woman entered the hall; something she had not expected did happen. There was her brother Faeldor, heading right out to the very courtyard where she had just left Gilwen and her laundry tub. He was smiling and humming to himself, and he looked as if he were on a mission as well. He surely knew where, for he had probably asked the servants like she had. He looked so happy.
“Hello, sister dearest,” he said, in a voice that showed his hesitancy at seeing her here. He kissed his sister lovingly on the cheek and took her hand for a moment, as was his way. “Why are you so far from the kitchens?” he stopped to ask her.
“I… was… getting some sun.” Miriel lied directly to her brother; after just having thrown a tantrum about the supposed lies that Gilwen had dealt, she did the very same.
“Sun?” Faeldor questioned. There was no sun this day, for the sky was grey, and the rain was sure to come earlier than expected.
“Yes… what are you doing then, so far from the stables?” she asked, but regretted the question immediately.
“That you should even ask!” Faeldor smiled. “I’ve come in search of my lovely Gilwen. I was told she was doing the washing back… wait. Have you seen her?” his voice was suddenly a bit sharper than before, remembering his sister’s previous tantrum about the matter of him wishing to see the woman again.
“I do need to get back to the kitchens. I shall see you tonight brother dearest,” Miriel answered, completely ignoring his question. She kissed her brother’s cheek and pulled her hand away, starting off down the hall.
That was entirely awkward of his sister, Faeldor thought, and continued outside. He knew that she was up to something, and when he saw the scene taking place among the piles of laundry, he knew that his sister had caused it.
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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 Mar 25, 2009 21:53:21 GMT -5
It had come so suddenly, that Gilwen wasn't certain what had happened. It wasn't until she was staring up at Miriel from the cold, dirty laundry-water that she even knew she was no longer on her feet. She gasped, startled as the liquid soaked its way through her servants dress, chilling her body immediately.
Even with the day as hot as it was, it never would have warranted such a way to cool down. And in this humidity, it would take ages to dry. The girl didn't move though, for while it was cold and unpleasant, as long as she was in the dirty water, she knew Miriel would try nothing else. So after the girl's spell of laughter, and her vanishing in within the halls, that was when Gilwen began to right herself.
The other ladies rushed in, voices buzzing, clamoring to help her up out of the tub without losing the rest of the water. Nobody wanted to have to fetch the buckets again.
"Poor girl!" "We best clean her up, otherwise the mistress will be having all our hides." "I don't understand what makes her think she is a stewardess! Poor Gilwen!"
It seemed to Gilwen, whose face was stoic now, and highly upset, that they chattered on miles away. That she was standing cold, dripping wet on the laundry courtyard alone. After a moment of silence on her part, she said sternly, "I am fine. Let us finish." The ladies halted, looking to Gilwen curiously. She was not one to talk so stern, though after what just happened, it was a wonder she was being that civil.
As the women stood stoic, Gilwen wrung her skirt, and her hair, and picked up once again the brush, and quietly kneeled to work, beginning to once more scrub out the apron she had been working with before. The others began to move back to work, a few whispering back and forth about the rude one who had just left, but all mindfully watching as Gilwen worked. It was easy to spot when she was upset---her work was all the better, and she all the more quiet.
One of the women caught Faeldor's eye as he entered the courtyard, and moved to say somethning to Gilwen, but stopped, mouth open. She wouldn't dare say anything to further upset the girl. It would do none of them any good. With that, she shut her mouth and pointedly finished folding the towel she had in her hands, dropping it into a basket beside 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 Mar 25, 2009 22:11:47 GMT -5
Faeldor overheard the exclamations of the other servants, and he knew they were speaking of his sister. But that was not what upset him.
He glanced to the servants. All three ladies seemed to notice his presence, except for Gilwen, who was intently scrubbing away at her work. Perhaps too intently. The others were giving her pitying glances. Gilwen was sopping wet, from her hair to the hem of her dress. They looked to him, but said nothing, their eyes returning to their work. They knew that Miriel was his sister. He hated to feel ashamed of his sister the way she made him to be. She was so pesky, and into his business. She had nothing to do with Gilwen! And yet she just had to get her hands into the situation.
Faeldor stepped lightly on the ground, soft leather boots soundless against the rock path. Gilwen’s back was to him, so he came around the front of her basin, and slowly crouched down so that he was at her height. When he saw her face, he was even more upset; for he was certain that she had been crying, even though her face was now stoic. She had a smudge of dirt on her cheek, and the other was red where his sister had slapped her.
“Hello, sweet one,” he offered gently. He bit his lip for a moment. This was not how he imagined coming upon her today. Her smile seemed utterly vanquished. “I… saw my sister in the hall… I take it you have met her.” Oh, this sounded foolish. But how else was he to say it? “I am entirely sorry. Whatever she said to you… I do apologize for it. I should have… warned you… or something.” Faeldor’s usually wordy nature was lost, and he did not know what to say. He was not to know that Miriel would cause such a ruckus to upset dear Gilwen.
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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 Mar 25, 2009 22:29:28 GMT -5
The servants watched. It was their custom. The ever-present eyes and ears of the palace. While it was certainly not what they were paid to do, the habit came with years of being silent. Though they were upset that such a deal had broken out, tearing up their friend in the process: they would all admit to themselves it was moments like these that made being a servant worthwhile.
As the tall, handsome man crossed the stone courtyard, it was as if all eyes were on him, and then on Gilwen who seemed to be paying him no mind at all. The eldest of the ladies there silently shooed the others away, back behind the hanging lines of laundry, attempting to give them both some privacy. Whatever conversation that would follow was certainly going to be strenuous. They had work to be doing anyway.
As Faeldor crouched to her level, the servant girl looked up, though quickly averted her gaze. She was well aware of the state of disarray she presented. It would do no good to call attention to her pink eyes, her throbbing cheek, nor the amount of dirt that was sure to be covering her face.
Still, the words he spoke were soft, and kind. Gilwen swallowed hard, choking back more tears. Sweet one. He was quite a sensible man. Whatever his sister lacked in civility, he had found. The sharp contrast brought back the hateful words Miriel had spat at her moments ago.
He continued, an even voice that took the chill off of her features. One couldn't remain to terribly upset when a man spoke so softly. "I… saw my sister in the hall… I take it you have met her." She stopped working and raised her eyes to his. Was it that obvious? She thought sarcastically, as she stopped her scrubbing. Still, she didn't remove her hands from the water. After the display earlier, she was far to ashamed to show them in his presence.
"It is not something you have to apologize for," She spoke softly. "I have clearly offended her," that was an understatement. Probably the largest one of the Third Age. Still there wasn't much else for her to say. If she were to break down in tears here, in front of the brother of the one who had hurt her so, she would feel horrible. She would simply try her best to come off stronger than she felt.
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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 Mar 25, 2009 23:12:25 GMT -5
When Gilwen finally looked at him, he saw her eyes were red with tears. Was she hurt physically? Or just emotionally. He could not tell for the moment; just that her eyes were sad. He did not think he could be so affected by someone else’s tears, but he felt the weight of them in his stomach as he looked at the lady. Had she not just stood beneath the moonlight dancing? She was a different picture now; though still lovely. She looked away from him though, and it saddened him more.
“She is offended by anyone it the world who is not herself,” Faeldor said. He lived with Miriel daily, after all. He had shared a bedroom with her for years. He frequently heard of Miriel’s complaints, and there was nothing it seemed that anyone could do to assure his sister that she was, in fact, wholly healthy and fine, and that the world was not set out to put her on her guard.
The man moved to sit on his knees. He wished the basin were not between them. He would have embraced her if he had known her better. He was used to comforting women, and girls for that matter. And sad to state, it was often Miriel as the cause in his own family troubles.
He had noticed by now that Gilwen was cautious about her own hands, for she was hiding them again in the cold water. She had a servants hands, it was true. Well used and trained to her work. It was the same as the men of the stables, who grew thickly calloused skin on their hands from the leather and ropes. His hands were neither soft, though he could make soft gestures with them.
Faeldor moved to the side of the basin, nearer Gilwen, and reached into the cold water, pulling out both of her submerged hands. They did seem icy cold, and her skin was red. “You need to take a break,” he said softly. He had not come meaning to interrupt her from her work, for he did not wish extra duties placed on her for idling. But she truly needed to stop for some moments. Faeldor used his shirt sleeve to gently dry Gilwen’s hands. He did not mind them; they were the beautiful picture of one who worked hard, and did not place her own image above her service to others. “Sweet Gilwen, even so, I am sorry that one of my own blood has troubled you. You do not deserve such treatment.” As he spoke he covered her hands in his, and began to massage the warmth back to her fingertips.
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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 Mar 25, 2009 23:35:52 GMT -5
Gilwen begged to protest when he reached into the water to pull her hands out of the water. "My lord, please, I---" It was all to no avail, her raw hands were once more out of the water, stinging slightly from the soap. She looked about them quickly, marking the shadowed forms behind the airing garments.
“You need to take a break.” Her brown eyes looked at him almost with agreement, though the sky was quite grey and the laundry pile was indeed high yet. All of the women had their work cut out for them---it was going to be nearly impossible to finish everything there before the rain began to fall.
This was simply going to be one of the days Gilwen resigned that she would not dry. Her dress was still making a puddle around her: she would not be able to change until she returned home. By the time she would get home, it would surely be pouring. The clouds looked heavy.
Faeldor began to massage her hands, and the warmth of his were highly comforting. Despite the heat, she was quite cold now. And she smelt of laundry soap. If Faeldor hadn't been sitting before her, she would have wrinkled her nose in disgust. He was quite the gentleman to be helping her in such a state. "It is fine," Gilwen whispered in return, "for I have bothered your blood in return, it seems."
One of the ladies rounded the garments, and picked up the apron that Gilwen had been working on to wring it out. With as long as it was in the soap, it was surely clean. Without another sound she vanished once more. A wind blew, a product of the brewing storm. It wouldn't be long now before the rain began to fall. It made Gilwen shiver slightly, and she looked out over the city and the Field to spy the sky.
"Let us get everything inside." One of the women called, and stopped to look to Gilwen. "We will manage without you for a moment. It is time for your break."
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Faeldor
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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 Mar 26, 2009 0:22:33 GMT -5
Protests were ignored, and Faeldor continued to warm Gilwen’s hands. Perhaps it seemed that she had relaxed slightly after her initial objections though, and her hands began to feel warmer between his own. He would kiss her fingertips if the lye did not sting his eyes so. How could she stand it? Did her skin not burn? He needed fresh water to rinse her skin of the horrid soap, but perhaps the rain coming would do just that.
Faeldor was still trying to understand the whole situation, and what had happened here. Obviously Miriel had pushed the girl into the water. What a childish act, Faeldor thought. And he had a suspicion that sweet Gilwen had also been hit, for the red marks on her cheek seemed as if they might be turning to bruise. The man was furious with his sister. Gilwen would not simply acknowledge that this was his fault; was it not? Well, he didn’t know how to control his own sister, and he had not known there would be such hostility.
“Do not heed the words of anything she hurt you with,” Faeldor said finally, sighing. “I feel that I know what she said, and it is untrue. You are beautiful and lovely, just as I told you yesterday. Even now, though she has tried to make it unso. She is simply jealous that you are so captivating to me.”
Then he asked, “Can we not go somewhere to warm you?” He was unsure of what to do. It was quite hot and muggy still, but Gilwen could obviously not feel it. The woman was shivering, and he had nothing to offer her. He thought to suggest the kitchens, for the warmth of his mothers bakery would surely be inviting to her. But then he second guessed himself. He could not take a sopping wet servant into the kitchens; it would get Gilwen in more trouble than it would him.
Thunder rolled across the Pelennor, and the wind became stronger, and even cooler. It would be a fresh relief to the heat of the city. Faeldor felt even his own hair prickle on his neck, and his face was still set in frown. Gilwen would be cold. He could not stand the thought that she was already shivering; the cold rain would make her ill. Oh, dratted Miriel. If only he might dump a bucket of lye water over his sister’s head at times, perhaps she would not be so outlandishly ridiculous.
The ladies ran about them, gathering the piles of both clean and unwashed laundry to be taken in. Washing day would not be finished today; there was no way they would have time to finish such work. A pity that he hoped they were not penalized for.
“Come with me, sweet. At the stables I at least have a cloak that I might give you,” he told the woman. “And we might leave the eyes and ears of the palace for a few moments.” He wished that she would not need work again in those clothes though, for it would be highly inappropriate to wear a cloak about the palace. And yet he despised the fact that she would need work again. He knew from the night previous that she was no fragile creature, yet still it troubled him that she would be cold and uncomfortable.
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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 Mar 26, 2009 8:11:56 GMT -5
For a moment, there was a silence. It seemed to Gilwen that Faeldor was simply trying to fully assess the situation. She would offer no details if he should ask. She did not wish Miriel's temper to return. Another trip into the laundry washbasin was not at all what she desired. For now, she was cold, and the lye was beginning to burn through her clothes, and her eyes ever so slightly, as trickles of water dripped from her hair down her forehead. It was highly uncomfortable, no mistake, though there was nothing she could do about it. No fresh water here resided, and it would make a mess to wander through the palace to find some. Besides, it was not as if Gilwen had never felt it before. It was familiar--after ten years of working in the palace with it in mass quantities, it was sure to be that way.
“I feel that I know what she said, and it is untrue. You are beautiful and lovely, just as I told you yesterday. Even now, though she has tried to make it unso. She is simply jealous that you are so captivating to me.” She looked up to him, and caught his eyes curiously. Captivating? "My lord, I...," she began. She had started with full intentions of correcting him, yet knew that he would not see his wrong or heed her words, so she fell silent again.
Her shivering, unbeknownst to Gilwen had actually grown to be noticeable. Or at least it appeared to have gotten that way, what with Faeldor's next question. She was surprised that he had noticed how cold she felt, for the servant was sure she was hiding her shivers. Still, she was now on break and as such could indeed go warm herself up.
A cold gust of air off the Field came by, and Gilwen shivered heartily. The air was becoming quite cool with the approaching storm. And she fancied that every citizen of Minas Tirith was thankful, save her and those who were covered in water like her. The ones who were apt to get ill from the cold. As the wind died down, she inwardly frowned. She was not in a place financially to become ill now.
The stables. "I will come. I had intentions of going on my own for break anyway." Gilwen whispered, a slightly happier face being shown. No matter her state, horses overjoyed her. Of course, naturally speaking, many women would have turned down the offer on grounds of avoiding further conflict with Miriel. Gilwen, however, was one to not even fancy it for a moment: if Miriel was upset, it was her business not Gilwen's. She wasn't going to let Miriel shove her around anyway but physically, and if that lasted to long, she might not let that either. Gilwen was a gentle girl, and never once raised a hand against another. Though if Miriel did try her patience, she might for a moment try.
How dare you think such things! She thought scoldingly to herself. That is Faeldor's sister. You cannot harm one he loves and shares blood with. So it was settled in her mind. If another run-in with Miriel's temper was in her future, so be it. She would not lower herself as a lady because she was treated poorly.
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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 Mar 26, 2009 10:29:00 GMT -5
The man would not directly ask Gilwen of what had transpired just now, for she seemed disinclined to speak on it. He was sure to hear of it later from Miriel anyhow, although he knew his sister would strew and bias her own story. At times he could not believe much of what she said. It was a pity, a real pity. Perhaps he would speak with his mother before he answered to Miriel, for his mother always had wisdom on how to handle such matters. Or perhaps he might speak with Narbeleth. Of his sisters, Beleth he was closest with; for her mind was very akin to Faeldor’s very own, and she understood Faeldor’s troubles with his eldest sister’s controlling nature.
Gilwen She started to protest his words; it was predictable. She had done the same the night before when he had complimented her. Captivating… heh… It was a rather prevailing word. Perhaps he should not have used it as such out loud. But it was truthful. If any man had seen a woman in such light and joy as that of which he had seen Gilwen the night previous, they would have thought her captivating as well. Though he had to admit to himself, the fact that the woman loved horses so played in entirely to his thoughts. He would not have even taken the time to spend with her if she had not voiced her own opinion of the creatures.
A woman who could ride a horse was more appealing to the eyes of Faeldor than any other type. So be it if she was a servant in the palace. Miriel would certainly survive if her brother chose to go riding with a palace servant, rather than dine with her friend Rosiel, a socially superior pretender, who bored him with her talk of suitors and fashion. Faeldor placed this little woman in all ways superior to Rosiel, save social and monetary standing; From what he had seen of Gilwen, she was kind, hardworking, modest and most certainly gentle. And even physically; though she was not the model of exquisite beauty that his sister strived to reach, Gilwen had a grace about her that made her so. Even amid her dripping and disheveled hair and dress, and the smudges of dirt on her face. The only thing lacking, which had been there yesterday, was her smile.
Faeldor certainly would be having words in his household about today’s occurrence. Though his mother was the head of their household, Faeldor had taken the place of his father, especially to his siblings, and even though Miriel was an adult, and close to him in age, she would answer to him. He must be careful that his anger relax though before he returned home, for though he would never raise a hand against a woman, he was apt to raise his voice. And he did not wish to do that. Faeldor was a kind man, and valued using kind words. Firm words did not have to mean heated words, even if Miriel had upset him so. And he would not say anything with want to ignite more hostility of his sister towards Gilwen.
"I will come. I had intentions of going on my own for break anyway." The horse master felt a relief in his chest at this, and he thought that he had caught a hint of smile in her glance. Gilwen would come, and not let his sister’s foolish words slip. Miriel had surely forbidden the girl to have dealing with her brother. She had done as such before with others. And Miriel would not relent, he knew, at least not until her friend Rosiel had lost interest, and she found some other pairing for Faeldor. He hoped his sister would have the decency to keep her hands from Gilwen though, and especially in the work place. How utterly childish she was at times.
Faeldor stood and offered his hands to Gilwen. She was surely weighted down by the sopping clothes. He did not like to think that her whole body was burning as much as his eyes were though; that was depressing, and even shivering at the same time. He would have one of the lads draw a bucket of water so that she might rinse her face and hands of the caustic laundry soap, and he would wrap her up in his cloak and not allow her to leave until she was sufficiently warmed. “The horses will be glad as I am to see you.” He stated simply.
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