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 Aug 15, 2009 0:04:38 GMT -5
Gilwen was quite modest today, it seemed. Even just to hold her hand and brush her cheek caused her to color her cheeks a bright rose. “My… but you are quite chaste today…” the man muttered as he pleasantly brought Gilwen’s little hand to his lips. Her poor mind was probably running rampant at what she had said the night before. She had no idea, truly… it seemed she only knew the things that he had mentioned to her. He was slightly amused by the whole event, though Gilwen would have been horrified if she had known that thought of his.
Faeldor caught the wide eyed look that was sent his way as he said the words of the troll, though Gilwen soon turned away from him again. She obviously did not remember their conversation on the matter. “Well… I told you that they were not a hazard, but you were still quite frightened of them, I believe. Although, I do think you reached a point when you recognized my true fierceness, and called me your Troll Slayer,” Faeldor chuckled lightly, rather amused at the memory.
“But I never remember hearing any news of troll sightings here on Mount Mindolluin. No troll would dare come so near the White City,” the man assured her, just in the case that she was still unsure and frightened of the fact. She had, afterall, not remembered his words from the night before on how they did not dwell in these parts, but she seemed genuinely concerned about the creatures.
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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 Aug 15, 2009 9:47:24 GMT -5
“My… but you are quite chaste today…”
Gilwen did not seem to even acknowledge that he had said this, though she had heard him clearly. It did seem he held some sort of amusement in him, though. For his tone was light, as were his sparkling grey eyes; and he then he further kissed her hand, as if in a playful accent. Whatever did he find so amusing? That she wished to hold to propriety? Surely after such a disregard the night previous, this was only right. Gilwen, of course, did not wish Faeldor to think she was angry at him; indeed, the only one she was angry at was herself. Aside from this, it was not as if she did not enjoy his kisses and attentions. Though, he already knew such things.
“Well… I told you that they were not a hazard, but you were still quite frightened of them, I believe."
Oh, her stomach plummeted, and her heart immediately was weighted with further embarrassment. She had never truly spoken to anyone about her fear of trolls. There were very few people that knew such a thing about her. Her Mother, perhaps her father. But she had never intended on speaking to Faeldor of such things! What was worse was that he was chuckling. Clearly her phobia was foolish.
"Although, I do think you reached a point when you recognized my true fierceness, and called me your Troll Slayer.”
Her little lips parted as Gilwen's face took on an expression to match both her surprise and horror at learning such a thing. Her Troll Slayer? Good heavens, she had been quite ridiculous! Her whole body seemed stiff, and her little heart was fluttering madly with all of her emotions. She had let her tongue slip twice in one day, to utter two foolish and childish things. Faeldor, naturally, had enjoyed both. Turtles and trolls. Together, they brought down any air of being mature.
Or at least for Gilwen.
“But I never remember hearing any news of troll sightings here on Mount Mindolluin. No troll would dare come so near the White City.”
Gilwen faltered once more. Such news eased her heart, for despite herself she was truly concerned with such things. A part of her knew that such a fear was absurd, though the rest of her did not care. She turned her eyes back to Faeldor, who seemed to have spoken such words with a more serious and comforting tone, once more. Something of it lightened her heart a bit more, for it appeared that he took her silly fears seriously and did not wish her discomfort by them. There was no hint of laughter there; perhaps he did not think her too childish.
She was silent for some long moments, though it was Gilwen's nature to be, before she spoke. "While your fierceness is unrivaled, Troll Slayer," she began, though inwardly giggled girlishly at the mention of her Faeldor's fierceness. She, after all, had very little knowledge of such a side. "I am pleased that you did not have to rely on it."
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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 Aug 15, 2009 12:42:06 GMT -5
“While your fierceness is unrivaled, Troll Slayer, I am pleased that you did not have to rely on it.”
“As am I! That is a splendid fact,” Faeldor let out a laugh, quite relieved at the fact that nothing had happened, and there had been no need for the sword which he had left lying beside last nights blanket. “Afterall, I would have been utterly disappointed with myself had some strange creature come upon us, for I was much too infatuated with you to have even been paying attention,” he admitted. “And I am quite certain that if something were to come and dare pry you from my lap, you would have displayed such a fierceness that the two of us can only imagine right now. You were quite comfortable and I think you even regretted the fact that we needed to sleep.”
“Forgive me now, my modest lady…” Faeldor laughed lightly again at the thought of the previous night’s Gilwen compared to the docile creature sitting near him now. “Do not take it that I am glad for your sheer drunkenness,” he apologized for his laughter. “It is just… that you let me see into you, just a bit more last night.
Faeldor was silent for a moment, and finally he released Gilwen’s hand for favor of placing it back on her lap. “I should allow you to eat and drink. Then your stomach should not be so upset,” Faeldor urged, standing up again to stretch his legs and walking over toward the ledge to peer at the rocky escarpment below. He was becoming too wordy, and Gilwen would surely be embarrassed over it.
If only the morning could last on, and Faeldor did not have to return his sweet Gilwen to the city. The thought was so enticing, though it would not happen. He glanced over back at her again. Just a day ago, they had made up for their miscommunications. Well that should not happen again. What a dour few days it had been without her. They would not be forgotten, it was certain, and Faeldor would not let it happen again.
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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 Aug 15, 2009 14:19:55 GMT -5
“Afterall, I would have been utterly disappointed with myself had some strange creature come upon us, for I was much too infatuated with you to have even been paying attention.”
Gilwen’s face contorted into further surprise. “Faeldor!” She exclaimed quietly. She was a bit flustered once more, and her eyes darted away from the man sitting beside her. A man’s attentions were easily swayed under the right circumstances, and last night she had apparently done quite well on such matters. While some deep part of her was a bit pleased with herself for such a thing---but blessed Valar, she would never speak on such a thing, or truly admit it to herself!---most of her was simply flustered and abashed.
Faeldor had a lovely little habit of drawing on her bits of insecurities. Though, it did appear at least this once he felt a bit of guilt this time. His words were laughing, though they seemed sincere. They did not, however, calm her very much. Her heart was still frenzied and her cheeks rather glowing. “It is just… that you let me see into you, just a bit more last night.”
See into her? Probably. Though it wasn’t rightly her. Leastways, not when she was sober. Oh. How much had he seen? Enough to feel proud; that was apparent. Gilwen frowned a bit, though he did not seem to see for he stood and bade her take food. As he moved to the cliffs edge, she rather hurriedly moved to take food.
It was for two reasons that she had done so quickly. The first was because she was genuinely hungry, the other was to distract herself from her embarrassment. It was a good way to occupy her tongue and divert her attentions. Her thoughts did not seem to still, though. Soon, she assumed, they would be on their way back to the city. Mixed feelings came with such a thing. Mostly it was sadness, for Faeldor would have to leave her with her family so that she could freshen up and then head off to pull a long shift. He had other engagements too, if she remembered rightly. That he would bring Faelon to the lower corrals and that evening he was to play the flute with darling Marileth.
It was his day off, certainly he would be well requited to enjoy such things. She only hoped that in the process of dropping her off he did not ruin his spirits. His brother and sister deserved him to be in a fine mood. She nibbled a bit more a piece of bread and turned her eyes back to Faeldor and inwardly sighed.
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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 Aug 15, 2009 16:12:31 GMT -5
The little woman had made no recognition of Faeldor’s remarks other than to exclaim his name in a rather brisk fashion. He did not respond, as the only correct response he could have seen to was to take her up in his arms and kiss her again. And that, at this time, was not an option. She did not feel well after all, and any more of a heated flush would surely upset her stomach.
Faeldor smiled to himself, musing over his thoughts while he let Gilwen finish her meal, and he stood wandering close to the ledge, admiring the plants that clung to the edges, even agains the fierce winds that tore through these mountains. A bird was soaring up ahead on the first heat currents of the day, and the man gazed on it for some minutes, recognizing it as a hawk. Perhaps searching for it’s own breakfast against the blue of the sky. The songbirds were hidden within the brush, not daring to fly out.
After a long while, Faeldor spoke once more. It seemed that Gilwen had finished eating, and simply sat quietly in the shade. “I know your stomach will be upset by it, but it is time we return for the horses,” he said shortly. He certainly did not wish to return Gilwen to her home, but delaying the fact would certainly make it all the worse. He still had her father to contend with today. Before last evening he had not sensed there would be trouble between himself and the man, for what father would not be glad that his daughter had found love? Or if that was not even the case, just for the sense that Gilwen would be well taken care of, brought into an upper class family, with the prospects of grandchildren in the future.
After last night though, when Faeldor had heard the truth of her father’s accusations, he was just a bit more hesitant about today’s meeting. What if Beregar did not approve of him? True, Faeldor and Gilwen had done nothing to cause him dishonor, but the mere rumors of it could be enough to instill the man’s hate.
One step at a time though; Faeldor would not worry again on the issue until he reached her house. He now walked over to Gilwen and offered her both of his hands to stand up, trying to dissuade his uneasiness by drawing her from the ground and embracing her lightly. “Would you like to ride with me again, as we did yesterday?” he asked her lightly. It would not only bring the man comfort to sit longer with her, but he thought that perhaps after her rough night and morning, she could use the stability of someone holding her onto the saddle.
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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 Aug 15, 2009 17:10:21 GMT -5
It was entirely lovely. Through her unease, Gilwen had marked some of the fine points of the scenery. Some flowers, that looked a lot like the one Faeldor had picked for her and sat upon her lap, had grown from between two rocks. Two lovely little blossoms, one reaching far higher than the second, though both intertwined in the way they grew. It made the woman to smile, for something of it was truly magical.
But such a thing was not long-lived. Faeldor shortly spoke on something that wiped the expression of joy from her face. “I know your stomach will be upset by it, but it is time we return for the horses.” Her stomach? It would hold up far better than her heart and mind would. “My stomach shall be well enough.” It would not be her night of drunkenness that would upset her, but rather the knot of apprehension that was going to grow with each step she took toward the White City.
Nonetheless she did her best to hide her emotions and the young woman stood and brushed off her skirts. “Then I am ready.” She stooped down to take into her hand the canteen he had brought and turned herself to move back down the mountain path.
Faeldor seemed a bit cautious himself. Though Gilwen could understand as to why he was somewhat apprehensive. Both for the fact that he was about to embark on a ride with someone who was not at all well physically and for the fact that he was about to meet her father for the first time. A father who was not at all in fine spirits. Though, surely he did not know of how much Beregar was against him.
“Would you like to ride with me again, as we did yesterday?”
Gilwen had a right mind to say no, though her steps slowed as she thought on it. It was taking quite some concentration to keep herself walking normally. Riding was going to be quite the chore. So, she raised her eyes to him and finally nodded. “I do not think I could handle a horse today.”
She did not speak further, though did continue along the way, hugging the wall with one hand, and grasping the canteen in the other. It was quite disheartening to think that she would not be able to hold her own. Oh, she had never done such a thing to herself before.
They lingered long enough for Faeldor to repack his satchel and throw it over his shoulder, grasp Gilwen’s hand and lead her back toward the darkness. The darkness was blessed for the young woman, and the moments in the cave were the ones that gave Gilwen the most comfort. A few more pieces of conversation flitted between them, but it was generally her Faeldor humming or singing that guided them back to the mares.
Scaling the cliff back down was the hardest thing she had to do, and even then, Faeldor had guided her. They finally found themselves beside the two mares, and both looked overjoyed to see Faeldor return for them. Gilwen squinted against the sun as Lumiel came forward to nuzzle her. She let herself brush her hand across the mare’s stormy grey neck and forced a small smile. “Yes, good morning.” She whispered softly. She assumed Faeldor had gone to repack the things to the horses before they took off once more.
One step closer to Minas Tirith.
One giant knot in her stomach.
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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 Aug 15, 2009 17:53:54 GMT -5
Faeldor readied the horses, who had been pleasantly grazing the night and morning away, and soon as they were ready. He had stalled to give Gilwen some more time in the shade, but as it was the sun was already rising and would be overhead soon. Perhaps they could make it back to the city before the hottest part of the day if they left now, and that would be best for sweet Gilwen. He felt sympathetic, but at the same time, he had not known how affected Gilwen would have been under such little wine.
The man helped his lady upon Lumiel, and soon enough he climbed up behind her, giving her enough space, but still relishing her closeness, he draped his arm gently about her to allow her no chance of losing balance. And though Faeldor was right concerned for the safety of Gilwen, he was also cherishing the feel of her in his arms once more.
The ride back to Minas Tirith was pleasant in most reguards for the man, for he was comfortable and happy, and he tried to keep himself within the moment, rather than think about the things that awaited them both back at the city. Of course he would be glad to see his siblings today, but before that again, came Gilwen’s father. Each time he thought of it he would take a deep breath in preparedness, sometimes leaning forward in the saddle to light a kiss on Gilwen’s cheek at those times. He would not let her see his apprehension, for that would make it worse for her.
Drawing slowly toward the city, with Lumiel in the lead, Faeldor gave the password at the lower gate and there they entered. At the second level, Faeldor stopped the horses and climbed down, helping Gilwen after him. Perhaps it would be best to show up not atop Lumiel together, in case someone were watching outside the window, as it seemed Niniel happened to do. Faeldor’s mind felt unusually silent at this time, and Gilwen had not said a word since they come to the city gates. Well, he could not let her see his own anxiety, so the man put a smile upon his own face, and sang quietly to Gilwen as they walked the cobbled street toward the third tier. The song was for her, that was certain
“She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes: Thus mellow'd to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less, Had half impair'd the nameless grace Which waves in every raven tress, Or softly lightens o'er her face; Where thoughts serenely sweet express How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek, and o'er that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, The smiles that win, the tints that glow, But tell of days in goodness spent, A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent!”
And there at last they came to the gate that opened in. Faeldor had finished his song, and they stood in front of the small stone house. He looked at the woman, still smiling, but she would certainly now be able to read the anxiety in his eyes. It was difficult to hide. “It was a wonderful day, my lovely Starlight,” Faeldor said slowly, looking at her for her own reaction. He hoped she had enjoyed her time.
Faeldor reached into a pocket on the side of Thissel’s pack, and pulled out a small coin purse, remembering his promise that Gilwen’s family would be provided for. He knew it best to give it to her outside and to have her tuck it away before her parents had seen. It was perhaps a days worth of his own wages; and would certainly not be missed by his own wealthy family. She would not take it if she knew, but he would not tell her otherwise. He pressed it into Gilwen’s hand, saying nothing, and left the horses for a moment, for he meant to walk to lady to her door at least, and perchance meet her father, even if he was anxious of it.
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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 Aug 15, 2009 19:25:33 GMT -5
The night had been sleepless for Niniel. Her husband had been at the tavern the entire night and had not come home despite all of her prodding. Though she could not control her dear Beregar. He had been in quite a fury the past few days, finally sinking into a deep depression. Not even Niniel’s careful words had brought him any comfort, and he had found himself down the street. Niniel had been in a frenzy, awaiting Gilwen’s return home.
But she had not returned either.
Oh, Niniel was in a fit by the time the streets had begun to clear completely. She had marched over to fetch her husband and bring him home. ”Beregar,” she had said in a pleading voice. ”Gilwen has not come home.” Her brown eyes were wide with worry and watering.
”She is probably servicing some men, Niniel.” He had slurred in response, though he had immediately returned to his drink.
”Please. Come home. We cannot afford such drinking,.” She had tried once again.
Beregar had flashed angry eyes at his wife, but kept his seat. Niniel had eventually returned home to sit in the windowsill and watch and wait. For there was nothing else she could do; worry and watch from the window for her dear daughter’s return, as well as her drunken and now livid husband’s.
The tavern had closed, but that had not ended Beregar’s drinking. He had purchased a large amount to bring home, finishing off the wages Gilwen had previously earned, and staggered back through his door. Niniel was instantly in a fit, scrambling to make him put down the mug.
”Where is Gilwen? He demanded in a roar.
”I do not know,” Niniel replied shakily. ”She has not yet returned.”
That had put Beregar into a yelling mood immediately. Niniel was quite shaken by such a display, for never had he been one to drink in such a way. Her husband was normally collected and prideful. He never would have wanted to hurt his family image in such a way, though he was far past reason.
--
It seemed that the ride home had been marked by silence and unease. Gilwen had certainly had quite a hard time keeping herself in the saddle, and it was very apparent that it was well that she was riding with Faeldor. Otherwise, she would have certainly fallen from her mount at least once.
Faeldor had gifted her kisses, she assumed it was to help her own anxieties though as they got closer she seemed to feel his own apprehension. They moved closer to the gate, and it was as if Gilwen began to hold her breath. She wished that such a time would not come! She did not wish to return home. It was an ill feeling that seemed to seep into her heart. Even Faeldor’s lovely song had not helped her any.
They slid from the horse and began to walk, close enough that it was clear Faeldor was escorting her, though not close enough to give any the wrong impression. It was as if both of them were taking extra care with such a walk. Lumiel and Thissel seemed a bit antsy themselves, for the streets were quite full with people and even Faeldor seemed unable to hide his unease. His grey eyes were pooling with it.
She took a deep breath as they rounded the final gate. There was her little house. Far too close for her own liking. Gilwen’s breath was quick and uneven, and she was quite sickly feeling. There was one last distraction Faeldor offered her. “It was a wonderful day, my lovely Starlight.” His eyes, though, seemed far from being in a fine mood. They were quite nervous. Oh, if only the Stable Master knew how much he should be upset! “I wish to thank you for bringing me to the river,” Gilwen added quietly. She had enjoyed herself, too. Though still, such joy was overshadowed here.
She felt him press something within her hand and she looked down to see a coin purse. She could feel in it the wages she had earned, or would have had she gone to work, from the previous day. She frowned, for she did feel guilty for accepting such a sum, though knew in her heart she could not refuse.
“This seems too much,” she whispered. It would be just like him to try and give her more than what she had earned, and she looked up to him with firm eyes.
But her attentions had instantly been drawn to the slam of a door. She wheeled around, startled by such a thing. Her eyes instantaneously found the source of such noise. Her own door had slammed open, and there, in the doorway was a tall man, tanned from sun and strong from work. Her father seemed to hold himself up on the doorframe, which struck Gilwen as odd. His face was twisted in a fury that she was quite unfamiliar with, and his cheeks seemed quite flushed from ale. Instantly her heart was racing and she stepped away from Faeldor.
“Gilwen!” It was a roar, and he pushed himself from the door and stepped quickly toward them both. It seemed his eyes were on the small pouch that her little hand gripped.
“Yes, Papa?” She replied a bit meekly. She certainly had noticed that such attention had been given to her hand, and she immediately glanced fervently to Faeldor, and then back to the approaching man.
“Where have you been?” His words were slurred, and it was quite obvious he had been heavy in drink. Gilwen winced, for her father’s voice was heated and raised. Loud enough, it seemed, to have begun to draw attentions from the neighboring families.
“I was—“ She faltered a moment and her cheeks flushed with all the newfound attention and eyes that had found her. She didn’t quite know how to answer. But she could not lie. “Papa, meet Faeldor, son of Faelon.” By this point in time, Niniel had emerged and hovered in the doorway, nervously wringing her hands before her.
Faeldor. It was as if the name had snapped Beregar’s attentions and he noticed, for the first time, the man beside Gilwen. “You,” he turned his fierce brown gaze to the man. “You swine. How dare you defile my daughter!” He was riled up something horrible, and he began to approach Faeldor in a rather physical manner.
“Beregar, please. Do come inside.” Niniel pleaded quietly. Her voice was tired from lack of sleep and for the embarrassment she felt at her husband’s display. She looked to Faeldor herself, though. A bit curiously. She had not known he had made amends with her daughter.
“Come inside? This man has used our daughter!” Beregar called over his shoulder before taking yet another step toward the grey-eyed man. He was relatively the same size, which was probably rather impressive for his daughter was so small. Faeldor certainly had not any idea how terribly large her Papa was. “What did you plan to do, hm? Sweep my daughter off her feet with sweet and empty words, have your way with her and then leave her? Did you get bored? Or was the other woman of no use to you at all? How dare you touch her! You loathsome, filthy, upperclass--”
“Papa!” Gilwen gasped horrified.
“How dare you defy me! My own daughter has let herself fall into such behavior as to ruin our family. I lost my job for your promiscuity!” Beregar screamed, grabbing her upper arm, right upon the bruise Faeldor had left her the night previous. “Get in the house,” he ordered, pulling her from Faeldor’s side and shoving her toward the door.
“Papa, please—“ Gilwen pleaded frantically. She did not want him to strike Faeldor, though it certainly looked as if it might get to such a point.
“Do not talk back to me. Inside!” Gilwen flinched and offered one last look to Faeldor before she began to follow his directions. Beregar, though, did not release right away and instead ripped the money from her hand before she left.
Niniel grasped her daughter and ushered her inside as she could see that she was close to tears. “Mama, he shall hurt him. Do not let Papa hurt him.” She whispered as her eyes began to brim.
“Shh, Gilwen. Inside. Come on, now. You worried both of us sick.” Niniel whispered in response, and then both women were gone.
“Stay away from my daughter,” Beregar said dangerously. “If ever you come near her again, let it be quite clear that I will see to it you have no hands to touch her with.” He shoved the coin purse back at the man, and locked eyes in a rather challenging manner.
The people around were certainly shocked, and at a full stand-still. None had ever seen such fury in their gentle neighbor before, though now their interests were piqued. Such a quiet family; there had to have been something wrong with them.
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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 Aug 15, 2009 20:18:51 GMT -5
Of course Gilwen would notice that there was just a bit more than they had bargained for in the pouch. She looked at him knowingly, but he did not say anything in response and simply squeezed her hand. He did not have a chance to say anything, for it seemed as soon as he had held her hand, the door to her home flew open, and Gilwen made a distance between herself and the Stable Master.
Faeldor was about to reach for Gilwen and pull her back close to him as soon as her father came outside. But then once he had her, what would he do? He could not very well take her from her father. But what if Beregar hurt her! It was apparent that he was drunk; Faeldor had seen quite a few men in the taverns over the years, and it made him uneasy. He was furious, and any man in a drunken fury had no right to speak to any woman the way he was now.
“I have not dishonoured your daughter,” Faeldor said plainly, through teeth that had already gritted themselves together. “She was tired, and I took out for a ride, and to rest. I apologize for your worry, but she is in safe hands with me; I would not lead her to harm.” Beregar though seemed to have no heed for his words, and continued his yelling rage, grabbing Gilwen and shoving her toward the door in a way that made Faeldor cringe.
“Do you not understand how your convictions have hurt and wearied her? Will you not believe your only daughter who you have raised? She would not lie to you. She would not lie to anyone.” Faeldor felt his anger rising, and he looked to Niniel before she took Gilwen into the house. Did Niniel believe the rumors as well? How could she?
By this time Faeldor’s eyes raged in fury as well, and his fists were taught, but he reigned himself in. He had to, for he could not outright attack Beregar. If it had been anyone else… anyone but her family, anyone but an aging, drunk man, he would have let himself loose. Faeldor refused to take the coin purse back. That was money for their family; their food. He wished to provide for Gilwen, and he would be allowed to do so.
“Your daughter is a virtuous woman. She would cast herself out on the street before she would allow her purity and pride to be taken away. You have hurt her with your words. How can a father purposely hurt his daughter in such a way?” Faeldor felt his chest heave slightly. His own father would have never said a thing against his children like that. Without warrant. Certainly if they had actually committed the crime there would have been severe consequences of the sort, but without warrant! Gilwen was the most gentle little woman he had had ever met!
It was unfair! Why must so many try to still their love for each other. Even on Gilwen’s side there was contempt for them, as if Miriel was not enough. Faeldor attempted to breath, for if he did not start soon, he would surely faint. Either that or he would lose all control.
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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 Aug 15, 2009 21:04:17 GMT -5
“Do you not understand how your convictions have hurt and wearied her? Will you not believe your only daughter who you have raised? She would not lie to you. She would not lie to anyone.”
Beregar snarled slightly, and stepped forward once more. "Dare you speak to me on the matters of my own daughter?" He half laughed, half scoffed before pointing an accusing finger at the strong man. "When you are a father you shall have right on your daughters, as I have on mine." It was softly spoken, though not any less angry or heated. His brown eyes flared once more and once again his voice began to raise.
"Until she met you, my daughter was chaste, and sound in her morals! Dare you speak to me on how I am mistreating my daughter?" What had his daughter seen in such a lowly man anyway? Faeldor was quite abrasive and bold; defiant. Did he think his class should requite him superiority? Children were the possessions of their parents. Prized possessions. If he should ever grow to have his own, and certainly none would be by his daughter!, then and only then would this swine have room to speak on such things.
"You brought my daughter for a horse ride for her to rest? That is not all you asked of her, was it?" Begregar just about could spit upon the man, simply imagining the foul things that must have transpired, and a wave of sorrow passed through his eyes, before it turned once more to pure rage and fury. "Leave. You are not welcome here," Beregar stormed and fumed a bit more. "The third tier is no place for pigs like you."
"How can a father purposely hurt his daughter in such a way?”
Beregar yelled angrily and turned toward his door. "My daughter is none of your concern. Not anymore." He had a mind to go find his sword. In such a drunken rage, it was probably likely that he would go fetch it. Especially now that he saw both his wife and daughter in the window watching. Niniel seemed ashamed and embarrassed, Gilwen teary and infuriated. But he saw none of such things. Beregar was, for all intents and purposes, blinded.
He stopped then and turned to look at Faeldor once more, dropping the coin purse onto the ground at his feet with a forceful toss and glared fervently. "Keep your money. I am sure you have many harlots you owe wages to. We don't want or need you, or your wealth." The words held such fierceness, that a few of the surrounding people shifted uneasily.
Niniel set her lips into a tight line, and gifted her daughter a kiss upon her daughter's temple before storming out the door. Her husband might have no need or desire for Faeldor, though she and Gilwen held the man in high regard, and deep in their hearts. "Beregar." She stated firmly, offering Faeldor a quick but pure look of sorrow and apology. "Stop. You are making a fool of us all." Her words were quiet, though to Beregar they were loud and clear.
Beregar turned from Faeldor then and shot Niniel a rather sharp look. Niniel did not falter, though, and stood her ground and simply crossed her arms and set her lips into a straight line. "I am making the fool of us? Our daughter was abandoned by this man when she was of no use to him anymore, and yet she skips her duties in the palace and keeps the night with him?!"
"Our daughter was raised better than to give herself over," Niniel replied. "She would never do something of the sort."
"Yes. She was raised better. Which is why it is so shameful that she should act in such a way!" The man seemed to have his drink catch up to him and he stumbled a bit and fell into their doorway, and Niniel stepped aside to let him pass. She gave a rather embarrassed look to Faeldor, and looked over her shoulder.
"I--I am sorry," she murmured quietly, though sincerely. She lingered only a moment more before she turned to shut the door behind her and hide her shame from the crowing neighbors. Raised voices, on Beregar's part, could be heard from inside, though the crowd erupted into a blaze of murmurs.
"I have heard that she had made herself a streetwalker." A few had said, and the crowd began to move off. A few looked to Faeldor as they left. They were still trying to make sense of things, though for the most part the murmurs were on Beregar's fierceness. None had seen such a side of him, after all, and many were shocked.
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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 Aug 15, 2009 21:54:44 GMT -5
Faeldor had no place to even insert his own words; Beregar was fuming so! And his words were so untrue! Of course, Faeldor should have known they would have thought none better of him having Gilwen out for the evening. If they already had suspicisons, nothing could truly change their minds. But he did not think that Beregar would truly disreguard Gilwen’s words. Had she not always been honest and truthful? There was no reason for her to lie now, and he knew she would not. Of all the words he wished to say now to this horrible man! Faeldor bit his tongue and tasted the blood in his mouth to halt the language he wished to use.
Niniel apologized before she went in. The man did not hold Beregar’s words against her, that was certain, but he was so angry at the moment that his stern look did not change for her. His eyes were sad though, he was incredibly upset. “I have brought no dishonor upon her, and I will not leave her,” Faeldor repeated once more to Niniel. If only Niniel would believe them, perhaps Beregar would hear it from her. “Everything has become a misunderstanding. I love her, dearly.” He said nothing else, and Niniel made her way inside, to handle what seemed like a tumultuous situation.
Faeldor looked down at the ground at the coins that had spilled from the pouch. He clenched his fist and then kicked them across the dusty stone walk; he hated them. He hated money and wealth. That was what had caused all of this in the first place. If Miriel had not hated his Gilwen so, for her lack of wealth. That was all it was; there was no other reason that Miriel could ever hate Gilwen, other than thinking that she was not worthy of an upperclass family. How wrong she was! If something could bring down the diamond stars of the sky and gift them, Gilwen would be the only one deserving of such!
Oh, but was Faeldor angry. His chest was heavy and welling, and his eyes were dry. His cheeks were hot, and his muscles held a tenseness that had not been present since that last foul dinner party at his home, when Durion had spoken his disgusting words. Still fuming, Faeldor glanced at the window of their house once more, if only Gilwen were still looking out. If only he could take her from that home right now, and keep her from her father’s yelling.
Don’t lose your temper… Faeldor heard his mothers own voice in his head. Gilwen would have said the same to him. He took a breath, his anger softening now that Beregar had went indoors. He noticed that it seemed a crowd had gathered, though they were now clearing off uneasily since the commotion had died down. Some gave him wary looks, and were certainly judging him, and muttering comments about Gilwen. Sweet Gilwen… what trouble had she been caused! It was true that their family had no such struggle before Faeldor had become involved, but then, he had not asked for such rumors to begin. All over such a little embrace in the servants quarters. It was not even inappropriate. Any young couple could have shared a similar motion.
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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 Aug 16, 2009 0:42:01 GMT -5
Niniel had certainly heard the words that Faeldor had left her with, and though her facial expression did not change—already she could hear Beregar’s voice inside—her heart was somewhat lightened by his words. She only wished she could do more than simply apologize, but to go against her husband would have simply made the situation worse. Women were meant to honor the head of the household. Unfortunately, that meant Beregar’s words were law within her household.
Perhaps she would be able to speak to him about Faeldor later, when the drink had left him in a sickly state. So that he could know how truly horrible he had been. The door clicked shut behind her, and her brown eyes flew to her daughter, who was standing, or rather cowering, in the center of their living area.
“What made you think you could run off with him?” Beregar asked rather loudly. “Do you enjoy being used?”
“Papa, Faeldor would not use me. It was all a—“
“Wouldn’t use you? Are you blind, or foolish? Gilwen, you are a servant; he believes he is above you. You came home crying by his actions, and yet you go to him for rest?” Beregar snapped rather readily as he moved a bit closer to his daughter.
Gilwen’s heart seemed to break a little hearing the words, despite the fact that she did not believe what her father was trying to imply. Did her own father think she was lowly because of her profession? The way he spoke certainly seemed like he was not proud of her. “I did not understand, it was a misunderstand—“
It seemed that Gilwen would not be able to finish a sentence, for Beregar once more broke in with sour and raised words. “And how much rest did you actually get, Gilwen? You seem as if you have not slept,” his words were biting implications that made Gilwen’s cheeks flush bright red.
“Beregar!” Niniel gasped, before marching over and placing herself between the two. “Gilwen is not a harlot. Do quit treating her like one.” Still, it did seem her daughter felt unwell. Though, after such an accosting by her own father, she could well imagine such a feeling of illness.
Beregar seemed to have lost his words, though he still towered in the room for a long while, and neither of the other women moved from their spot. Finally, he spoke once more. “We have lost two days wages by your hand, Gilwen. Do tell me what we are supposed to do, for it seems you have all the answers. And your life is going quite well,” his lilt was mocking and harsh, and Gilwen’s eyes burned as she dropped them to the ground.
Still, she did not answer, and instead, the man turned and stormed right out of the room and to his own bed. Niniel looked after him, though turned to see her daughter. Gilwen looked a right mess. She was pale, her eyes were beginning to turn pink from tears she was trying to hold back. Her little body seemed wracked with shakes and trembles from her own anger and humiliation. “Gilwen,” her mother began softly, taking a step forward. No response. “Oh, my dear child.” Her voice was full of a motherly love, and it caused Gilwen to raise her eyes. She felt two hands upon her shoulders, and they slid down her arms until she had her firmly by the upper arm.
“Mama, I—Fael had never intended on leaving me. He—he—he—he loves me.” Gilwen stammered through gasps of air that she was taking to calm herself.
“I know, sweetheart.” Niniel murmured, as she took another step closer to her. “Your Papa is not well,” she added quietly. “When this has all cleared up, he will see how he behaved as dreadful.”
“Dreadful?” Gilwen asked, inquiring to her choice of words. “Mama, he forbade Fael from seeing me. He threatened to hurt him if he ever found out we saw one another!” It was hushed, for even though her father was quite inebriate, the house was small and voices carried well.
“Faeldor will not abandon you,” Niniel began again, brushing some hair behind her daughter’s ear and getting it out of her face. “And you should not give up on him, either.” Niniel added with a small smile.
Gilwen frowned and tossed her eyes to the floor. “How am I to stay true to him if I cannot see him? I have many days of wages to make up for, and now I must repay Faeldor for the money he has lost,” she thought sadly on his hard earned money strewn out in the cobbled streets, though it had probably been greedily and eagerly taken by the surrounding folk.
Niniel sighed and turned away from her daughter, slumping down into their couch with a saddened face. “Yes, that would be only right.” She was just as troubled as Gilwen over the matter. She would have, of course, refused Faeldor’s money herself. But to throw it into the streets was childish. To have a pride and be kind with it was different than whatever her husband had done. “I am afraid that your father has used our savings for his drinking last night.”
Gilwen’s mouth dropped open and she seemed disbelieving. Their savings was used for groceries, for their house payment. To keep the family living comfortably with what they had. It had dwindled much when Beregar had been severed, and more so now that Gilwen had gotten a cut in pay. But they were going to be able to make it anyway. Her hours were giving them just enough for their little home and stringent food. “Can we still make payment for this month?” She inquired delicately.
Niniel sighed and shook her head. “Do not worry on it, Gilwen.” Though, there was much need to worry. If they could not afford to keep their home, they would have to move to the lower tiers to cut costs. Beregar would be none to pleased, though it would partially be his fault. “We will be able to manage somehow.” Gilwen frowned and turned to head to her room, where she opened her trunk. “Gilwen, what are you doing?”
“Changing,” the reply came. It was stern, though only from an anger with her entire situation and from her tiredness. “I shall be at work late tonight, Mama.” She had slipped into her other serving dress and re-emerged eyes already set tired but determinedly.
“Why do you not rest? Gilwen, you do not look well.”
“I have taken all the time I could afford---and even that we could not truly spare.” Gilwen replied as she moved to the door. “We cannot starve, Mama.”
Niniel sighed and moved toward her once more, catching her cheeks within her hands and kissing her forehead. “I am sorry this has fallen on you, Gilwen.” Her mother’s brown eyes were truthful, though still thankful. At least one of them still had a way to work. Niniel had been searching for somewhere else to gain a few coins in wages, but it seemed that none were looking for a woman of her age to help with anything.
Gilwen simply forced a half-smile in response and turned to head up to the palace, silently praying that her job would still be there when she arrived. It had been, much to her delight. The supervisor seemed quite understanding, indeed Gilwen did look sickly, and her appearance seemed to offer her excuse for her.
“Alright, Gilwen. You are on the hall, today.”
And so it was that Gilwen was right back to where she had started. A day of rest she had taken, but how un-restful such a thing had turned to be! She had not returned to her home until past midnight; Beregar had been awake and moaning in the backroom from his own pain and discomfort. Niniel was pointedly telling him to bite his tongue and not complain; it was his own doing after all.
The young woman dropped the coin purse of scarce wages onto the table in the center of the living room before tucking herself into bed. She stripped herself of her dress and folded it, placing it in her trunk. She eyed the other one—the one she had worn the night previous upon the mountain where it laid upon the floor. She took it into her hands and held it a moment, for a moment taking a breath from it; it smelt of the wild, and of her Horse Master. It seemed to be precisely what she had desired, and with the dress, Gilwen climbed into bed and held it close.
Even in his absence, Faeldor was her comfort.
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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 Aug 16, 2009 10:57:01 GMT -5
Faeldor’s temper was exceedingly hot as he heard voices raised from the inside. He made a step toward the door again. Gilwen needed him! What if he hurt her? His words already had, certainly, to call her a harlot to her face even! When she denied it. But he was angry, oh was Beregar angry. Gilwen had never mentioned that he was a drunkard, or was this a solo occurance? What if he hit her? His fists were clenched and he made his way to the door, determined to burst in and take her somewhere… he didn’t know where. Somewhere to safety. If it meant they need ride all the way to Belfalas!
Beregar’s words rang back in his ears though, and the man halted; “Dare you speak to me on the matters of my own daughter? When you are a father you shall have right on your daughters, as I have on mine." And it was the truth. Faeldor was a mere man of no relation, and he had no right to the daughter of Beregar if the man should deny him it. At least, he had no right to step into their home and take her. He had no right to go against Beregar’s word.
He would let him calm down; that is what he would do. He needed time. Faeldor needed to calm down as well, for if he struck out at the man it would be no use on his part to plead for his love. Beregar would not hand his daughter over to a man he thought to be violent. And perhaps he did have a point; perhaps he had worried for Gilwen to the point of such drinking. Faeldor knew by experience that it was a possibility. And if rumors had spread, and Beregar had come to believe them, it would certainly seem suspicious to have taken Gilwen out overnight. And given her pay. Oh, he made it seem even more as if she were a harlot! Faeldor was bringing these troubles of his own accord, for his thoughtlessness. If only he had sought Beregar in the beginning.
Faeldor turned in his steps, and made his way to take the leads of Thissel and Lumiel, walking ahead of them, and not turning around again. His face was set in stone, and all hope of a cheery day had left him. Of course, he was still the dutiful brother to Faelon and Marileth, and they had their time together, but once young Marileth had tired and been sent to bed, Faeldor made his way silently out of the house to the gardens.
Perhaps Faeldor was silent, but not unseen, for Narbeleth soon followed after her brother. She knew that he was upset; she had known from the moment he returned home, though he did well to hide it. But what could have gone wrong? For had they not left in merry spirits just the day before?
Faeldor was sitting upon the steps of the walk, fingering the flowers which grew along the hedge when Narbeleth had approached him silently. He was so deep in thought, and she was so quiet that he did not notice her until she sat near him and placed a hand upon his shoulder.
“Fael, what is troubling you so?” she questioned.
The man was silent for a moment, but then answered his sister, “I am impatient.” His voice was flat.
Narbeleth smiled to herself, moving to sit on the step behind her brother, and begin to knead the tenseness from his shoulders. “We all know that, brother mine. You have always been so.” Beleth was quiet for a few more moments as she worked her fingers against her brother’s muscles, moving down onto his arms. “It is good that you have found a patient lady though. You will learn from her,” she said testily, trying to figure out the whole reason for his morose demeanor.
“If ever I should be allowed to see her. Her father thinks not well of me; he made quite a point of letting me know. He said he would take my hands off should I touch her again,” Faeldor grumbled, recalling the words passed throughout the morning, and the words that had rolled through his mind throughout the day. “I would that I take her and leave the city. We will go to our family in Belfalas. He will not follow us, and she will be away from those dreadful rumors.”
The man’s muscles seemed to tighten once more against Narbeleth’s fingertips. “Faeldor, you will not do such a thing. What would father say to that?” The young woman spoke quickly, though her voice was still soft. Her brother was still silent and fuming, so she continued. “He would have you do what is right. You know it, Faeldor.”
She had used his full name twice now, in a row. Beleth was never one to argue with when she used his name of sorts. At times, she had the same authority as his mother over him. Faeldor sighed, but Narbeleth continued her lecture, as she also continued to relax the man’s muscles with her graceful fingertips. “And you should not be prideful. Her father would have said no such things if he had not cared for her. Your Gilwen would not be such a gentle woman if she had not been raised well, and you know that. You had no misgivings on her parents until now.”
Faeldor still did not answer. He did allow his sister to sit with him though, and he slowly relaxed and sighed, leaning his head back against his sister’s leg while she coursed over is neck and his temples, eyes closed. “Any father would say the same for his daughter,” Narbeleth finally said. Her voice was still reassuring, but somewhat heavy. Perhaps she was thinking of her own father. Faeldor noticed the difference.
“Or a brother for his sister,” he finally agreed, settling down. He would just settle for some days away from Beregar. He would not stop seeing Gilwen, that was certain. He would go to her again in the morning, perhaps staying back from her house, but he would walk her to work, and assure her that things would be fine along the way. Beregar would cool down eventually, and Faeldor would have to earn his respect, but he would do it! He could do it, for he loved her, and it was the right thing to do. He would ask Beregar for Gilwen’s hand before he wed her though, even if it took a hundred tries.
“I shall not only cut off the hands of your suitors, but their feet as well. Then they shall not touch you, nor run off with you outside the city walls,” Faeldor added, a slight lilt to his voice. Narbeleth, though now the threat was layed, was pleased, for that was sign of her brother’s humor returning.
“You will do no such thing,” Narbeleth said, tilting her face down to glare at her brother in the eye. “And if you threaten it, I will just have to see them in secret.”
“Then I will send out my spies to perch on the city walls,” Faeldor jested. “Oh, you do not thing Beregar has spies out, do you?” His playfulness disappeared for the moment in contemplation. Well, if he did have spies, they should only confirm the truth that Gilwen was quite virtuous. He began to secretly hope that it was true.
“If he is a good father, he will have spies out to look after the two of you,” Narbeleth agreed. “Come now,” she added, lifting his head and moving to stand. “We should go to bed, for we both have work in the morning, and you will be getting up earlier from now on…”
“Aye,” Faeldor agreed, standing and taking his sister’s arm. “Thank you, Beleth,” he said. Narbeleth said nothing; to let her brother keep his pride, but she kissed him on the cheek when they entered the house, and they went their separate ways to their rooms. Faeldor comforted, and quite more at ease.
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