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 Apr 8, 2009 17:52:29 GMT -5
The day began in a catastrophic manner. It was about time for Faeldor to rise and start work, but he lay on his small bed some minutes longer, quite awake, but staring out the window at the sky which was still a deep blue, diced with silvery white stars. It did not seem like it would be a bad day, for his eyes were quite dreamy as the stars reminded him of his own Starlight.
Before he had even pulled himself from his warm wool blanket, there came a knock on the door of the Stable Master’s quarters.
“Faeldor, it is me,” Meleth announced herself. “I am awake, do come in,” the man said, a bit drowsy and confused. He groaned, sitting up in his bed slowly as the door opened, but not pulling himself yet from the blankets. If it were just his mother, she would not mind his disheveled appearance. Meleth entered the room, carrying a basket which she sat upon his desk, and looking to her son as he squinted at her against the lantern light.
“I’ve just brought you some breakfast, and food for the day, dear. I… I would request of you that you not come into the kitchens today.” Faeldor looked at her numbly, still trying to acquire his senses. Meleth sat next to the man upon his bed.
“Mother, I’ve told Gilwen I will not seek her out, but it is not even well for me to come see you?” he asked. Meleth frowned slightly, “I think you might give it some days. People are talking… and there is a frightful rumor going about. The kitchen staff have been quite kind enough to not gossip to me about it, but it is not as if the walls are soundproof. Thankfully dear Gilwen left early in the day, for it had become quite… degrading… by sundown when I did leave. So you did see her yesterday afternoon?”
Faeldor frowned, “We were together through the evening.” Meleth looked upset for a moment before he continued. “Mother, we did nothing inappropriate.” Meleth almost sighed aloud. She did not believe her son to have done anything of the sort and Gilwen had said they did not, but rumors of such made one agitated, and it was dreadful to hear such of her son. Though, the primary focus of the rumors seemed to be on poor Gilwen. She began to speak, “They say that she has done this before, stolen the hearts of men, and lured them--”
The man was never one to speak against his mother, nor interrupt her, but he did now, and he was fully awake, “Mother, I do not want to hear of this, the gossip need not be among the stables as well. She has done no such thing. I am the first man to be with her, and I will be the only.”
“Be with her?” Meleth pried, still looking distressed. Faeldor was even more agitated now that his mother was implying more than he had said, “I have so much as kissed her , and that is all we shall do until I have married her,” he said a bit forcefully.
“On the lips?” Meleth asked now, a bit more curious; it seemed that her attention had waned from asking him of the rumors, to now prying for details that she might share with Niniel, and that might settle her own heart that her son would marry a virtuous woman. Faeldor sighed, “Yes, Mother, if you must know.” The mother instantly added, even while Faeldor sighed, “And you will marry her then?”
“Well not yet! It would be highly inappropriate to do such a thing so soon.” His voice was slightly raised, and he wondered his mother’s motives for such questions, and why she must wake him with them. He calmed himself and lowered his temper, “I thank you for the breakfast… and Mother, please do not listen to that gossip. Tell me now, where did it start?”
“Well the servants who saw you of course, and Miriel…” Faeldor groaned. “That is enough, Mother, thank you and Good Morning,” he said as he shoved the blanket from his lap and brought his legs around the bed to stand up.
“Good morning to you as well,” Meleth said, standing up and leaning to kiss her son upon the forehead before she left hastily. He never raised his voice against her! Where now did it come from?
----
In the time before dawn, Faeldor had dressed and already made the first morning round, as the men of the Calvary began to come in and see to their mounts, readying them for the long day of training sessions on the Pelennor. The man was able to forget his troubles for a time while he assisted where he could, and gave the daily orders to the young men and boys who came in to work.
“Master Faeldor,” one of the boys said as he approached him. He was the younger brother to two men who worked here. “My brother Ingold will not be in today, nor Mithron. Mother did tell me to tell you that they were quite drunk last night; got in a fight with some other men down on the first tier. Need to be resting today. Ingold broke his arm and won’t be in for some days. I might try my best to fill in for them,” the boy said, in a responsible manner.
“We will need such then,” the stable master said, inwardly upset. Now they would be short staffed. On a day when ten new horses would be brought in and need tending. And with that, he would be stuck dealing with all the younger boys, for it seemed that his adult staff were quite inebriated.
----
When dawn came, and the orders had all been given, Faeldor made a quick trip back to his quarters to find what his mother had left him for breakfast. He was quite hungry, having not left the stables for dinner the night before during his break while Gilwen was with him. He came to find in the basket food that would have been quite good, if between predawn and dawn the mice of the stables had not already found their way to it. It seemed that everything had been nibbled, and there were some droppings among the biscuits at the bottom.
This time the man groaned outwardly, picked up the biscuits, and threw them out the window, walking back out of his quarters in a slight fury, for now his grumbling stomach would not be satiated, and he would need wait until supper, for there was no way that he would enter the palace kitchens after his mother’s unexpected visit this morning, and with his short staff, he would not have a break anyhow to even take the short distance to his home.
----
Despite the help being gone, the dedicated stable master had things quite under his own control until came the early arrival of three men, leading ten young horses with them in the late morning. These horses were from fine trainers on the lower levels. They had been worked both in the corral, and on the Pelennor, and they were quite ready to be incorporated slowly into the drills of the Steward’s Calvary.
When training young horses, the slightest bit of carelessness could lead to the horse being ruined and unfit for the work that the men needed them for. To train a horse was a difficult measure, but to un-train them, and try to retrain them was even worse; dangerous at that. These ones were all well bred, well trained, and well ready to enter the Calvary. One could never know though, how a horse might act under such new conditions though. These horses were born and bred on a farm upon the edges of the Pelennor, and later taken for further training within the lower corrals. But now, they had ascended to the sixth tier and the Steward’s great stone stables. It was quite a different situation than they had ever experienced before.
The boy stablehands were given instruction, and when it came to it, each boy took the lead of two horses, taking them to the designated empty stalls which would become their new abode. Faeldor spoke with the deliverers, and gave instruction as to where they might go in the palace for their payment. It seemed that everybody was rushing about, and some of the newer horses were becoming agitated, particularily one horse by the name of Balroch. He was a powerful young stallion, purely black, and now his eyes were glimmering and wide, and his movements were jumpy as he was taken to his new stall by Bregor, the youngest boy.
The boy was quite experienced in horses though, and not afraid, so he calmly led the horse to the stall, and began to remove his lead and bridle, when all of a sudden he let out a shout. Faeldor turned quickly, and saw that the horse in its agitation was beginning to rear and thrash wildly. He cut himself off with the man, and took off at a run to the stall. The horse shifted and threw it’s body heavily against the wall of the stall, and for a moment Faeldor gasped in horror, thinking the boy had been crushed between, but a quick glance showed him that Bregor had ducked low, and his little body was huddled in the corner beneath the horse and the wall.
He had to get the boy out of there, for Bregor was in right position to get kicked in the head; and even a kick to the head of a grown man was sure death. Faeldor threw open the door, and without thinking of the horse, shoved against it’s haunches to move it, and grabbed the boy, lifting him quickly and shoving him out the door. Just as soon as he put the boy down though; he felt it; a swift kick by the frightened Balroch, and Faeldor felt his body thrown against the manger, his chest searing in pain.
Bregor jumped up from where he had fallen, and grabbed his Master by the back of the shirt, literally pulling Faeldor backwards out of the stall, where both of them fell again on the stone floor, breathing in heavy gasps. Another boy had run and kicked the door shut, and the horse was still frantic, also having upset the horses on both sides of it.
---- The afternoon was no exceeding joy. Faeldor was in an incredible amount of pain; upon going to his quarters to look at his chest; there was a great bruise forming on the side, and the skin had even broken in some areas. He was certain that his ribs were bruised, though thankfully he had felt none crack. It seemed though that every step or movement he took sent pains rushing through his body.
He was also exceedingly hungry, having not eaten a single bite since his lunch the day before, and in great annoyance of the young boys. They did what they could, but they were not experienced enough to handle the anxious new horses, so Faeldor spent most of his afternoon trying to calm them. He was worried that another would craze as the first had, and would not even let the young ones into the stalls until he was quite sure that they were well behaved. Even Balroch he had to see to, and though Faeldor could not truly be angry at the horse for its situation; he was simply frustrated by everything else that day, and did not have the patience. He snapped at the boys all afternoon, and was quite unfair to one who asked for his break a bit early; allowing the boy none at all. By the end of the day, his face was set in a frown as he was again seeing to Balroch in his stall now, and waiting for the evening men to come in so that he might 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 Apr 8, 2009 18:44:29 GMT -5
Today, Gilwen was sure, would be somewhat disappointing. Her ankle was still swollen and bruised; and that meant more pay lost at the serving table. Still, she was in good spirits: Faeldor had completely left her elated the night before. As she walked through the palace she smiled, for her mother for all her prying knew nothing of what had gone on between her daughter and the horse master. It was best that way; Gilwen did so desire privacy.
Immediately, though her smile was extinguished. It seemed that many of the palace women as they passed gave her strange glances. At first, Gilwen had chalked it up to her limp and bruised cheek---it was not often a palace maid would be presented in such a way. Though, as the glances became accompanied by whispered words and looks of disgust, Gilwen knew that was not the case.
As she had worked with two others in scrubbing the dining hall and readying it for the noon meal, Gilwen finally heard some words exchanged in full. “That one there?” If only the girls realized how such noise carried in the stone room!
“Yes. Her. She doesn’t look the type, I know. But people have seen it with their own eyes!” Gilwen frowned, though it did not surprise her that the women were talking that way. She and Faeldor had been caught in each other’s arms. Such talk was only expected, now. Still---she did not recall it warranting so much disgust from her fellow servants.
“Not at all! Oh, the poor stable master!” One of the others exclaimed in what she thought was a quiet wail of pity. “To have had his heart corrupted like the others.” Others? Gilwen thought sharply, pausing in her scrubbing to listen better.
“Oh, that is quite sad indeed. How many did they say? Three other men?”
“I heard four.” The other hissed, and both girls finally looked to Gilwen, with looks that hardly covered their deathly glances. Sternly, the girl had set back to work; thankful that her break was nigh.
--
After break, her day had not gone much better. She had quietly joined a group of women in scrubbing a hallway, and they had not seemed to notice her approach or presence at all. They, too, were intent on discussing the latest news concerning a woman who they all thought absent.
“Four men?” One of them laughed. “No, five, and two of them paid to be with her at the same time!” The other girls gasped and made exclamations of revulsion—and Gilwen just stared, mouth open.
“Come now, that is not nearly as bad as what I have heard,” another chimed, dropping her brush into the bucket of lye water. “I have heard that she has been with other women, too.” “You know, she isn’t even here. I bet she went to meet someone in the servant’s quarter now.” The first woman offered.
As the women began to prattle about this, a looming figure stood in the doorway. “Gilwen, do come here.”
Instantly the chatter was stilled, realizing that the subject of their gossip had been there the entire time. She stood slowly, and moved toward the supervisor as quickly as she could. As they moved out of the doorway, the woman called to her staff, “I don’t want to hear a single peep out of you ladies again. Do you understand?”
They all nodded and had set back to work. The chatter would start up again, it was certain, the minute the supervisor and Gilwen were out of earshot.
“Gilwen, I will need you to come see me after your shift.”
“Yes, my lady.” Gilwen murmured quietly, curtsying slightly. She did not have to ask as to why; the look in her eye had told her it concerned her position in the palace.
--
Gilwen had been reassigned duties that day, to keep her out of the way of the others. And upon finishing decided to run to the stables to see her Faeldor. He could surely make her feel better; and calm her about meeting with her supervisor.
Everything was all in a bustle when she arrived, and frantically her eyes searched for the tall, handsome man she sought. He was there, and quite easy to find in the stable today. It seemed all the other hands belonged to young boys. Already somewhat relieved, she began to move toward him.
“Master Faeldor,” A voice called from a stall on the opposite end of the stable, where he had just shoved his fighting mare into the stall in which it belonged. The voice itself belonged to another man, who quickly breezed toward the dark-haired man in the center. He was a handsome man, and one whom she had heard quite a bit about from her years in the palace. Durion. “That wretched horse you have given me will not listen to me in the slightest! It almost threw me today, that beast. It is not fit to be in the calvary!” It seemed, though that Durion had taken notice of Gilwen as she approached, and had fallen silent with what seemed to be quite the glimmer in his eye. Durion, of course knew who this lowly servant must have been. Perhaps Miriel had over exaggerated in describing her; she was actually quite cute. Though, it could have come simply from her size. He smiled, then, and turned his eyes back to Faeldor. “It seems you have company.”
Gilwen was highly distraught; she could hardly stand to wait for his comforting words and arms, and so she approached the man without delay, seeing as Durion had stepped aside well enough to give her speaking privilege. “Faeldor, the palace! It’s full of the most dreadful rumors!” She finally muttered fervently. She had not quite come to tears yet today. Still, she must have looked as if on the brink of them. She calmed herself slightly. It would be fine, now that she were with Faeldor.
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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 Apr 8, 2009 19:14:53 GMT -5
The stable master was having enough trouble as it was to settle the black stallion in the stall next to Durion’s and now this man’s yelling was making him crazed all over again. Not to mention, the man had infuriated his own horse, and surely would not take the time to calm her before he left her for him to deal with.
“Durion,” the man snapped. “Your horse is quite well trained, it would do you the best to treat her properly, and perhaps she would behave for you. Even the boys half your age can calm that horse more quickly than you.” His words were sharp, and his gaze was not less so. He did not give the man the privilege of looking at him long though, for his eyes were turned back to Balroch as the horse backed itself against the wall yet again, shaking it’s head.
“It seems you have company.” The man gave a wearied sigh; he did not wish for company. At these words, he turned, his gaze still fierce, and he looked upon Gilwen approaching him quickly. Her eyes seemed brimming, and he was quite certain that she was about to run to him and embrace him. Even thinking of such, his bruised chest pained, and he stepped back while she spoke. Must she always need comfort? Could she not tell that he was busy, and could not stop what he was doing?
“Gilwen, truly, I have not the time to speak on women’s rumors and gossip today, please! Must we always start in such a dour manner?” His voice was raised more loudly than he had wished it to be. It seemed that everyone was requesting him at once, for even one of the stable boys had come to him now to request his leave; and all the horses had not even been watered yet!
In truth, he would have desired the comfort Gilwen might give him, simply her presence, her soft warmth, and her kisses, and if he had been given the chance to calm his nerves, or even perhaps if Durion would not have spoken to him immediately preceding, he probably would have been more kind.
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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 Apr 8, 2009 19:50:10 GMT -5
Durion did not respond to Faeldor at all. He simply backed away, to watch the event unfold. Oh, he could tell already that the stable master was quite on edge, and what with the approaching woman...yes. This would prove to be highly entertaining.
“Gilwen, truly, I have not the time to speak on women’s rumors and gossip today, please! Must we always start in such a dour manner?”
His raised voice, and his recoil from her brought Gilwen to a dead halt in the middle of the stable. Her jaw had dropped open the slightest bit; and her heart immediately felt heavy. Her eyes were stinging horribly now and she took a few steps back from him. "I hardly have the time myself." Her words were flat, and as soon as the last word was uttered, Gilwen turned on her heels and began to rush out of the stable as quickly as her injury would allow, biting back the tears. After all, the supervisor did still wish to speak with her; she couldn't go in looking like a complete mess.
Durion took that time to step forward again. "I may not be able to calm a horse," he smiled crookedly over at Faeldor. "But I do know how to calm a woman." His voice was highly suggestive, and Durion with one last look at Faeldor moved after her, easily catching up to her at the doorway, still in sight of the horse master. He delicately grabbed her arm to slow her escape.
"My lady, whatever has made such a lovely woman so distraught?" His voice was thick with a velvety tone. He stepped a bit close to her, as well---merely to insight more anger on Faeldor's part.
"It is none of your concern," Gilwen whispered in return, continuing on her way back to the palace.
"Come now, lovely." Durion said, taking a quick step to catch her once more, forcing her to look at him in the eyes. His brown eyes were ever so much colder than Faeldor's own grey ones, and it chilled Gilwen's insides immediately. He brought his hand up and touched her hurt cheek in a sickeningly tender manner. "A woman should not have to keep her troubles to herself. Any true gentleman knows it."
For a moment Gilwen faltered. No man had touched her before Faeldor, and Durion's reputation alone warranted a slap across his face. More than that, it felt twisted; the way he seemed so gentle. She brought up her hand to strike him, but he quickly caught her wrist.
"Now, now," he cooed devilishly. "One cannot strike a lord." He held her there a moment, and it seemed almost threatening. With a glance back over to Faeldor, though the man shifted his hold on her hand, and brought it to his lips to kiss. Miriel had not been lying about her hands---they were positively horrid. Still, it was worth it for the turmoil it would cause the stable master.
Finally, Gilwen forcibly removed her hand and rushed off to the palace once more. She still had to meet with her supervisor before she could head home for the day. And right now, Gilwen needed the comfort of her bed.
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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 Apr 8, 2009 20:46:35 GMT -5
The moment the words had left Faeldor’s lips, and he saw Gilwen’s face fall, it seemed like his heart sunk to the bottom of his stomach, and he did not even know what to do as she turned and fled from him. His chest pained him and his fist clenched as Durion’s words and filthy smile rung in his ears.
His hands dropped to his sides as he simply stood in the hall and stared. Durion grabbed the woman, he touched her face, and she was about to slap him. He grabbed her hand, and they exchanged words before he kissed her. That man’s foul lips, even upon Gilwen’s hand angered him to the extreme. The woman pulled herself away at least, and lit off, Faeldor assumed, to her home.
He could not chase after her now; the evening workers were not yet in. It seemed that the minutes were ages, but eventually each man came eventually. Thankfully, there were no excuses, and no men were absent. He dismissed the day crew, grabbed his cloak from his bedroom, and took off. Quick long strides took the man down to the third tier, and he went straight to Gilwen’s house.
He was about to go right to the doorstep and knock, but he stalled, standing in front of the house for a moment; turning to perhaps a minute. Then he looked about. Would she even accept him? After that show in the stables? And the way he had spoken to her. The poor woman had simply wished to speak to him and be held, and he in fact had told her that he would see her this day. It was not her fault that she came at such timing. The last thing she had needed was another condescending voice.
Faeldor’s face was grave. Oh, he was certain he had hurt her so. He yelled at her; just as his sister had done. Their family could rage up dreadful tempers at times, and he hated such. The man tried to breath and stepped forward again, his hand raised to knock. Then, his nerves got the best of them, and he stepped back, turned, and walked quickly away from the home.
He would let himself cool down, he would speak with her tomorrow, and apologize, and bring her lovely flowers. He did not know what to say. He would ask Beleth to help him, she surely would know what to do in a situation like this. His sister was quite socially oriented. Faeldor went down the street, and it was not far until he found the first tavern on the left, and entered. Perhaps he needed a drink.
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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 Apr 8, 2009 21:22:14 GMT -5
Niniel had happened to catch Faeldor's figure as he approached their door. Immediately she stood to let him in, all smiles. Though, he faltered in knocking, and it was then that Niniel took a good look at his face. It seemed grim, as if he was confused about something, and mulling it over in his mind. She made move to go open the door anyway; but found that he had begun walking off. Curiously, her eyes followed him as he seemed to begin to return home.
He wasn't going to make it there, it became apparent. He sidestepped into the closest tavern. Instantly, Niniel frowned. Something had obviously upset him, and it seemed greatly so. Gilwen had not yet returned home either. So, Niniel sat down in the chair beside the window, watching. She would either wait for her daughter, or simply wait to see if Faeldor would come out and by her door soon. Both should warrant answers.
---
It had been a long, and emotionally draining meeting with her supervisor; and Gilwen was returning home, fists balled tightly in fury, with bitter tears rolling down her cheeks. All of this turmoil, and she could not even bring herself to stop by the stables for comfort.
He had been so cross! Gilwen sobbed slightly, dropping her head once more, and reigning in the shudders and gasps. She was in public, after all. Perhaps it had been selfish, to walk into the stable expecting comfort from someone who was just as busy as she. She bit her lip, and then forced her face into a stoic expression as she continued her descent to the third tier. If she would apologize, it would have to be the next day. Surely Faeldor had gone home by now, it was past nightfall. Besides, she would not wish him to think her bothersome once more tonight.
He had only ever raised his voice at Miriel, to Gilwen's knowledge. It sickened her core to think she had tried him as much as his sister had. Perhaps it had been a mistake to let him kiss her the night before. Now that he didn't have to work for anything, maybe he simply wasn't interested in her anymore.
She had finally reached her home, and saw her mother's face peering out the window. Taking a deep breath she stepped inside, opening her mouth to begin an explanation and recount of her horrid day.
"Gilwen, dear. What happened between you and Faeldor?"
Gilwen froze, letting the door swing closed behind her. "Why do you ask?" Her voice was a little shaky, her tears stinging her eyes once more, though her face was expressionless.
"He stopped by, or did seem to try to stop by, about two hours ago. But, before I got to the door, he had turned and went to the tavern...he has not yet come out. Gilwen, what happened today? Gilwen? Gilwen!"
The minute her mother had reached the portion of her explanation that involved Faeldor still being in the tavern, she had turned and marched right back out to the streets once more. She crossed to the tavern quietly, stepping inside into the rowdy, and deafening uproar of the clients, her brown eyes scanning for the stable master.
He was there, surely. He seemed to be keeping to himself; and must have been drinking heavily the entire time he had been here. She frowned, and began to move toward him, avoiding drunken hands and ignoring the drunken eyes.
"Faeldor, what are you doing?" She asked, her voice strong, though exhausted. It seemed quite unlike him to venture to a tavern; his family after all could afford their own wine.
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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 Apr 8, 2009 21:50:41 GMT -5
The man had entered the tavern intent on simply ordering some food and a drink. One drink had turned to far too many though, and now he was completely out of his wits; depressed and bitter, and mulling in his own agonizing thoughts. Oh, why had he done such a thing?
"Faeldor, what are you doing?" The voice broke into his thoughts. He seemed to recoil into himself, not knowing where it had come from at first, and confused. Had he imagined Gilwen’s voice before him? He seemed to not even recognize her for a moment, though he knew it was her voice. Finally though, he found that she was not in his mind, but
“I am… having a drink,” Faeldor said, faltering slightly. What was he doing? “I was looking for you,” he added, a bit confused. Well, he had looked for her, but then he didn’t knock on the door. But was she even there? Why was she here, and how did she know he was here?
He looked up at the woman, and she seemed to move about before him. Was she dancing? No… his eyes began to focus. She was standing quite still and looking at him. His eyes were reddened. He held a hand against his forehead, as if to steady himself; though he was simply sitting stooped on a bench. He could no longer feel the physical pain in his chest, though his heart seemed to hurt tremendously.
“Gilwen,” he started, reaching out to her. His hand touched her low on her waist, but she felt stiff against him. This upset him greatly. “Why are you so stiff?” he asked her impulsively. “Why are you here? Here, come sit with me, I need you to sit with me… I love you,” he muttered something indistinguishable, removing his hand from his forehead, he reached out to grasp the woman about the waist and pull her down next to him. His movements were a bit jerky, though he tried to be gentle.
“I’m sorry,” he said, realizing that he was rougher than he had wished to be, and he pulled her tightly into his arms. He smelled heavily of alcohol. “Come here, beautiful,” he muttered to Gilwen. “Have a drink with me?” he asked, but then continued babbling. “I yelled at you, I shouldn’t have yelled. I should have kissed you instead; right in front of that Durion. Did I ever tell you of him? Oh, he is filthy and wretched. He kissed your hand, I did see, and he touched your face. I wanted to beat him. Come here, darling, let me love you.” He finally stopped his talking, looking at her and wishing that she would come closer, wondering if she even understood what he was saying. Perhaps he did not even make sense to himself.
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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 Apr 8, 2009 22:08:13 GMT -5
It was clear the stable master had outdone the proper amount of alcohol that one could or should intake. Gilwen sighed as he tried to explain what had brought him here. "If you were looking for me, I am here." Her voice seemed matter-of-fact, and not terribly sweet like she normally spoke to him. Her nerves were so strained at that moment. What with the rumors, what had happened with her supervisor, she certainly did not feel up to handling a drunken and babbling Faeldor. And he was heavily both of those. He reached to touch her, though his touch seemed very different, and not nearly as tender as he normally approached her with.
More than this, his hand was rather low for public displays of affection, or even propriety. He asked her questions, and his voice seemed to hold no gentleness. Of course, today he had showed her absolutely none. It seemed he was trying though, for the words he repeated to her did sound as if they came from a lover.
He gripped her roughly, and jerked her forward, though Gilwen hardly even bent to sit with him, despite his greater strength. "Faeldor." It sounded as if she were speaking to a child, though with the way he began to spout off words, it seemed that she surely was.
He embraced her still, though she was not sitting where he wished her to be, and as he continued to speak to her fervently. She could smell the alcohol on him, and as soon as he began to rant about Durion, she used her own strength to try and pry herself free. "Faeldor, you don't mean it; you're drunk." She paused a moment, struggling slightly against his own strong arms. "Let me get you home," it was quiet, probably barely audible above the ruckus of the other intoxicated men.
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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 Apr 8, 2009 22:23:40 GMT -5
Faeldor tried to listen to the woman’s words, but even they were hard to understand. She told him that she was here; yes, she was. She had come to him, but she would not sit close to him. Why would she not? He did not understand.
“I know I am drunk,” the man muttered, still trying to hold Gilwen. He attempted to soften his arms about her, though he still held her firmly. “And I do not wish to return home to my mother and her prying, and confounded Miriel. I will strike her. She hurt you. Come here, Gilwen, please don’t pull away. I do not wish to go home. I don’t want you to leave me, please stay with me. Gilwen, do not leave me. I love you, please, I love you.”
He tried to be gentle, and pull her closer against him. “Please Gilwen, we will not go anywhere. You can talk to me now, I do have time. All of my time is yours. Do talk to me, we can sit here,” he attempted to kiss her cheek. “Please, I wish to be gentle with you, and I can comfort you. Were you crying earlier? It seems there are tears on your face. What is wrong? Come here, I will hold you. We will be fine. When we are married there will be no more rumors, there will just be love. I do love you,” he continued to babble. It was as if he could not stop himself; or as if his babbling would keep the woman right her beside him.
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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 Apr 8, 2009 22:38:23 GMT -5
It seemed Faeldor was having trouble comprehending her words; Gilwen saw the amount of confusion that was in his eyes. "I don’t want you to leave me, please stay with me. Gilwen, do not leave me. I love you, please, I love you.” Her heart plummeted more, to know that all of his ramblings were induced by the high amount of ale he had consumed. Otherwise, they would have been lovely to hear.
"Faeldor, you will do no such thing; you could never lay a hand upon your sister. And it was you who thought our mothers were lovely." Her voice had taken on even more of a motherly tone, with much less of a sharp edge to her words, as her eyes began to sting once more.
He tried to hold her close, though the sheer fumbling of his own arms made it feel as if another were holding her. As he began to speak again, she continued her work of trying to free herself from his trap-like embrace. He moved to kiss her cheek; in a way that she would have found gentle without the influence of alcohol, but it was rather rough, and upon her bruise nonetheless. She flinched sightly, and recoiled her cheek quickly.
He immediately began to inquire as to her tears, and that made a few more fall down her cheek. "There is nothing wrong, Faeldor, aside that you are not behaving at all like yourself." She lied quickly before he continued.
He spoke of marriage, and Gilwen felt her heart plummet once more. One could not believe a drunken ramble...it was always the product of whatever drink they had poured down their throats that evening. "Please," she pleaded sadly. "You need to get home to your family, you have work early tomorrow."
She reached about herself and tried once more to pry the man's arms from about her waist. If such a display kept up, she would eventually have to seek assistance from a stronger man to help remove her from his grip so she could get him home.
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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 Apr 8, 2009 22:56:57 GMT -5
Faeldor’s eyes did not miss the tears that fell down Gilwen’s face. They certainly caught them, and seemed to focus right on them. “But you are crying, Gilwen. Please, sit with me, I have stilled your tears before. I still can, I do know how to calm a woman.” He remembered what Durion had said to him earlier. That repulsive man had told him that he did not know how.
“You need to be loved; you are sad and tired, I can see it. Please, do not cry any longer, I will take care of you, do not go from me. I can help and love you, and things will be better. Miriel is a liar, nothing she says of you is true. You are the loveliest being on this earth. You are not a harlot, sweet Gilwen, you said you were my own. And I am your own, you are the only one I will ever desire. Just you, sweet Gilwen.”
It seemed that she was still pleading with him, to go home, to go to his family. To go to work. But Faeldor did not wish any of those things; he only wished for Gilwen. He had wanted to see her all day, and now he did, and she wanted him to go home. Oh, she hated him so! He could not stand it!
“It is not late, Gilwen, you are more important than my work. I should have stopped earlier. The horse would simply not stop fighting, but you are lovelier than anything Gilwen. I will do anything for you, you deserve better. I should not have yelled at you; I should not even be here. I should have been with you,” he stopped talking for a moment to breath, and he looked at the table and his mug of ale. He frowned heavily, and raised one hand to reach for it, but instead of grasping it by the handle, he swatted it off the edge of the table, and it fell clattering and spilling to the floor. “See, I do not need that,” he said slowly, “I need you.”
The man felt his eyes brim; it was an odd feeling; as they had held no tears for years, though he did not cry outwardly; no sobbing. Though the salty tears did run down his own face. “Do not go from me,” he pleaded.
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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 Apr 8, 2009 23:15:20 GMT -5
"But you are crying, Gilwen. Please, sit with me, I have stilled your tears before. I still can, I do know how to calm a woman.” A few more tears escaped her eyes and she closed them for a moment with a sigh before opening them once more and gazing down into his. "Yes, you do." She said softly. "But you are not yourself at the moment."
He continued to babble on, and it seemed that the words he spoke seemed to grow sweeter the more he continued; and Gilwen's heart ached. It would do her no good to fall victim to such words and encourage his current trend. He needed to return home. He needed to be the Faeldor that she had fallen in love with.
She almost grabbed his hand to thwart his attempt in finishing his ale---he surely needed no more. Faeldor, though, swept it from the table and Gilwen's hand seemed left there in mid-air for a moment, as she looked from the rolling mug to his face once more.
"See, I do not need that, I need you."
His eyes! Through her own dampened eyes, she could see them upon his cheeks. Wet tears, silent tears. Gilwen gasped lightly, and lifted her hands to touch his cheek, and with her thumb caress the tears away. "Do not cry," she whispered tenderly. After all, she had promised Meleth she would care for her son as he cared for others.
He needed her to still his tears now; and with her cool hands upon his warm face she tried to calm him. Perhaps it would not do much harm to let him hold her. All the men here were too drunken and preoccupied to care; and an embrace was not disgraceful here. She wished to draw him into her, though, to draw him against her chest and let him know she was not going to leave him. That, though, was highly inappropriate---so she simply stood, with her hands upon his skin tenderly moving her thumb across his cheek. "Please."
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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 Apr 8, 2009 23:32:54 GMT -5
Gilwen had stopped trying to struggle away from him, and the man relaxed. The coolness of her hands upon his face settled him slightly, and the man could not help but close his eyes. His grip on her became more gentle. “Let us leave here; it is too loud,” was all the man managed to say before he stood up from the table. He lost his balance momentarily and placed his hand against the tabletop, but soon caught himself. He tossed some money upon the table, then drew the lady right against him with one arm wrapped completely about her waist.
He would take her away from here; and they might be alone. Then he could calm her better, and take care of her. He could not stand to have all these people about any longer, and the noise would drive him crazy if it lasted more moments. He tried to breathe deeply; at least the coolness of Gilwen’s hands could settle him.
“Come Gilwen, I shall hold you all the night, and not let you go, and you will sleep peacefully; there will be no need for you to cry.” His hand rested against the woman’s stomach, and then slipped down along her side to lay against her thigh. “And I shall love you,” he said, as his hand moved around behind the curve of her hips. “Come, we will go to the inn, and nobody will disturb us, nor tell us what to do. If they are to spread rumors about us, they may as well be true,” his voice was soft, though a bit heated, and his kissed the woman’s hair. “Just let me love you.”
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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 Apr 8, 2009 23:48:40 GMT -5
It seemed almost instantly that Gilwen's attempt to calm him had worked. Perhaps too well. He stood and tossed money down on the table for the bartender, though seemed highly uncoordinated in the action.
She felt herself drawn sharply against him, with his hand clinging to her waist too tightly. She took one hand of her own and tried to pry his off of her once more. "We may leave," she whispered though it seemed they both had different intentions.
All at once it seemed that Faeldor's mood switched from sorrow and despair to heated passion and lust. Instantly, Gilwen's heart was hammering, and her cheeks burned bright pink. Her tears had stopped, merely because it had been replaced by panic. If he truly wished her to let him touch her, he was strong enough to make her, and while under normal circumstances she would not have been worried in the least, he was drunk and clearly not thinking. "Faeldor, don't." She said as his hand glided down her side and to her thigh. She protested more as he reached her hip, "Faeldor, stop." Her voice was much stronger there, though he still seemed to pay her no mind at all. He clearly was being driven by some internal drive now.
“Come, we will go to the inn, and nobody will disturb us, nor tell us what to do. If they are to spread rumors about us, they may as well be true.”
"Faeldor!" Her voice was slightly shrill, and she took her little fist and pounded pointedly on his chest, to cause him to stop. Quickly, she pried his hand from her hip and stepped away from him. "I am not a harlot." She was hurt somewhat that he had given in to such desires to come to her in that way, but more so that he wished to truly degrade her name, and let his own be harmed in the process.
He just wanted to love her. Well, there were many different ways to show it.
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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 Apr 9, 2009 0:10:55 GMT -5
Faeldor’s chest ached as she hit it; he felt every wounded muscle and bone strain against even her little fist, and he stepped back himself, looking at her in his pain. She did not know that he was hurt there; and it was his own fault. If he had stayed sober, perhaps he might have told her how poorly his day had been. The man rubbed his eyes, and seemed to try to shake his head into a bit of sense. What was he doing? “What am I doing?” he repeated aloud as though his thoughts had told him to say such.
The man sighed, trying to clear his muddled mind. He could not even think, for goodness sake, what was he even doing? He had obviously hurt Gilwen; she had pulled away from him, and her face was not right. She looked to be panicking. Was she panicking because of him? She was, wasn’t she. He had gotten too close to her; and let his drunken impulses get away from him.
“I… I am sorry,” he almost whispered. His voice had changed; It was more similar to his usual tone. “Help me to go home, please, I am not well,” he said quietly. “I will not hurt you. You are no harlot. I do not wish for a harlot. I wish… that I were not drunk on that ale. I need to go to bed. I am sorry, sweet Gilwen. Forgive me, please, do forgive me… I will not love you in such a way until we are married.” His eyes felt warm and wet again, but this time he started to move toward the door. The strong man was entirely unstable, and after nearly losing his balance, he reached again for Gilwen; this time his arm was gentle, though firm enough to hold himself up, and he clasped her waist with one arm, starting again toward the door.
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