Along This Journey

[Gilwen]

First Trip to Market - Aged Four

It was a lovely fall day, just a few days after September fourteenth, a day that was a milestone for a little girl that lived on the third tier. She had just turned four on the fourteenth, and today was the first trip to the marketplace she had been allowed to go on! Or, at least that she could remember. Mama insisted that she had brought her as a baby, but Gilwen adamantly claimed it did not count, for there were no memories of it!

And there she was, dark hair pulled back in a pretty braid in a little yellow dress that she had gotten for her birthday, holding on to her mother’s hand with one of her own, and the other holding her father’s.

“Alright, Gilwen. Remember to listen to us---there are a lot of people here, little one. You could get lost.” Beregar chimed down to his daughter, taking a moment to stoop down in front of her so they were eye level. That was quite a feat; for he was a tall man, and his daughter was ever so petite. He smiled, for he knew his daughter was well behaved and mussed her hair before adding, “Or squished.”

The little girl laughed. “I will, Papa. I promise!” Niniel took a quick glance down at her daughter and sighed. Her nerves were taut, that was for certain. She had avoided bringing her only daughter to the marketplace this long because she was so small. Indeed a few of her friends thought she was not but three, and because of her height it was going to be nigh impossible to keep track of her in a large crowd.

“Niniel, dear, it will be fine.” Beregar murmured soothingly to his wife who just seemed to glare in response. “Goodness, I have never known a child to behave better!” Gilwen smiled up at them both and began to get antsy.

“Are we going to the market, Mama?” Niniel sighed and looked down at her little girl and finally nodded.

“Alright, here we go! Ready, little one?” Beregar laughed, and his daughter’s happy squeal told him that she was more than ready. And so the three moved into the bustling streets.

In truth, neither Niniel nor Beregar understood what the little girl found so exciting about it. It was simply a street full of noise, people who could be really rude, and vendors. Still, ever since she had been able to talk, Gilwen had been begging to go with her mother when she went, or her father if he was to go. Beregar had cleared his schedule for this day simply to go with his wife and daughter to the busy little street. It had set Niniel’s mind at ease, knowing there was two pair of eyes watching their precious little baby.

Gilwen was smiling exuberantly, her brown eyes wide with wonder at everything. “There are so many people, Papa!” She exclaimed. That was just about all she could see, for the poor thing was at leg level only. Still, it did not seem to bother her in the least.

By the time they had been in the massive crowds for a good five minutes Beregar looked to Niniel and smiled. “See? Our baby girl is quite capable of handling herself.” Nothing had gone wrong, and in fact, Gilwen had not even tried to run from her parents. Even Niniel admitted that it was not as bad as she had thought it would be.

“Alright, Gilwen. This is our first stop.” Niniel finally said, and they veered over to a vegetable stand to pick up the weeks groceries.

“Ah, good morning, Niniel. Beregar.” The vendor chimed cheerily. His brown eyes flicked down to the little girl and he leaned over the top of the little stand. “And who is this lovely young lady?”

Gilwen giggled and replied, “My name is Gilwen.”

“It is our daughter,” Beregar offered smiling proudly.

“Ah, Gilwen. How old are you, dear?” The vendor asked once more, in a rather friendly fashion.

“I just turned four years old!” Gilwen exclaimed excitedly. “And I got this pretty dress from Mama and Papa.” She nodded down to the yellow gown she was wearing.

“Four? My you are a big girl.” The vendor smiled down at her. “And it is quite a lovely dress.” He added thoughtfully before looking to Niniel. “The usual, yes?” The woman nodded in response and the man grabbed a bit of food and handed it to Beregar, who helped Niniel get it into the basket before dropping a few coins into the man’s waiting hand.

“Thank you,” Niniel replied politely. She looked down to Gilwen and said, “Gilwen, dear, remember your manners.”

Gilwen gasped, as she realized she had indeed forgotten them and curtsied to the man. “Thank you, my lord!” She chimed and smiled brightly. The man laughed and waved to the three as they moved away.

They began to merge their way into the crowd once more when Beregar and Niniel both heard their daughter gasp delightedly. They both followed the little jubilant gaze to see a table of lovely toys for children. And it must have been the lovely doll at the very end their daughter had been taken by. “Mama, Mama!” The little girl called up. “Can we go see her? She is ever so pretty.”

The parents exchanged a look with one another and Niniel squeezed her daughter’s hand firmly. “I think we have some more things to buy dear. Maybe on the way home.” Gilwen pouted and looked up to Niniel and Beregar for a moment before looking back to the table where another little girl was standing with her father. Immediately Gilwen pouted all the more. It appeared the other little girl was going to be able to take the doll-baby home.

“Mama, she won’t be there! Why don’t I get to have a doll like the other girls?” She cried looking up once more. The look on her mother’s face brought the little girl to quiet, and give a look to her Papa. “Mama?” It seemed like her mother was about to cry! But adults did no such thing. What was she doing?

“Gilwen, we have things that are better than dolls.” Beregar murmured softly once more laying his head atop her head.

“Beregar. Stop sugarcoating it. She will learn someday.” Niniel looked down to their wide-eyed child and smiled. “We cannot afford such things, dear.”

Gilwen was confused, and frowned. Did they not just buy vegetables? They used money for that. They began to move away, and the little girl did seem to raise in spirits. She was at the market! She should not be sad! They moved to their next stop and a woman and daughter were standing there as well.

The woman was tall, and her daughter looked a quite a bit older than Gilwen, possibly around 7 years old. The ever cheery child smiled at her. “Hello, my name is Gilwen. I just turned four years old. What is your name?”

The girl turned to look at her and answered simply, “Rilien.” Though, her eyes were not nearly as friendly. It was quite possible that she had found Gilwen a bit annoying, Beregar mused as he took a glance down.

“I like your dress. It is pretty!” Gilwen exclaimed, still brightly despite the tepid answer. “I just got a new one! See?”

The girl glared down at the chipper little girl and answered, “That is not a compliment at all. You cannot even dress yourself. I bet you think your dress is pretty, too.”

Listening intently to the conversation, Beregar frowned lightly and looked down to his baby girl as the vendor turned to take their order and fetch their items. While part of him wished to speak up for his daughter, he could tell by the other child that they were quite a bit better off than he and his family. It would do no good to irritate the uppers. And his daughter needed to learn to interact with foul little girls. They did exist, after all, everywhere.

Gilwen’s expression seemed to fall, and she wriggled her little hand free of her mother’s grasp to grab a fistful of skirts. She dropped her eyes. “My dress is pretty. It’s yellow like the sun.” She whispered confusedly, repeating the descriptor her father had told her when he had handed it to her.

“See?” The girl snapped. The other woman turned and began to walk away, and the daughter turned and followed leaving little Gilwen standing there looking after her.

Beregar kneeled beside her a moment. “Little one?” He asked cautiously. She turned to look at him sadly.

“My dress is pretty, isn’t it?” Gilly asked almost whining. Beregar pressed his lips together before smiling, and swooping his darling daughter up in his arms and giving her a kiss on her cheek.

“Of course it is, Gilwen. Your Mama and I will only give the prettiest things to our pretty little girl.” And, despite the small space, he twirled her, once more bringing Gilwen into a radiant smile, and bringing out her lively little laugh.

“I like the market, Papa. It’s fun.” Gilwen chimed.

Beregar smiled, though inwardly his heart pained. He only hoped his little girl kept such an attitude for the rest of her life. It was not going to be easy to be poor.

[Gilwen]

Little Dwarf - Aged Seven

“Wait for me!” A voice called from the street of the third tier. It belonged to a seven-year-old little girl by the name of Gilwen, the sprightly little daughter of Niniel and Beregar. She was racing, as fast as her little legs could take her, after a few other children who were quite a few paces ahead of her.

They laughed in response, and sped up, and Gilwen tried to force herself to move just as quickly. Oh, if her legs were only longer, like the other little girls and boys! She would have been able to keep up, too. But Gilwen was small; and she imagined morosely that she always would be. Her face looked no older than six, if someone were to be generous with estimating her age, and her body was about the size of a small six year old as well. And as many times as she had insisted she was the same age as the other children, they simply laughed at her and called her a liar. But she was seven.

The large group of children turned, heading farther upward to the fourth tier. The little girl wondered where it was they were going; though probably knew that none of them truly knew save for Bronad, the eldest of the children.

He lead them almost directly to the fourth tier itself; and it was then Gilwen realized where they were off to. Right before the gateway to the fourth tier there was a flat-roofed building; a little smithy shop that was right beside a bakery.

As the baker received shipments of wheat and flour, the crates used were set between the two buildings. The children would oft climb them to play on the roof. And it made Gilwen frown. “Watchtower” was not a game she enjoyed in the least. She was far too little to climb on the roof, and while the other girls would play noblewomen, princesses and wives of the soldiers, she would be allowed to play nothing of the sort.

She had finally caught up to them, they were all waiting bout the bottom of the tower of crates, breathing heavily.

“It took you long enough!” One of the younger boys laughed.

“My legs are not as long as yours!” Gilwen replied with a small frown.

Bronad stepped forward and crossed his arms. “Nelion, come on then. We’re going to go to the top.” Immediately the young boy rocketed off and began to ascend the staircase of crates after the other children. Gilwen began to move after him, but Bronad put a hand upon her shoulder and pushed her back.

With an amused smile, he addressed the breathless little thing, “Gilwen, you know you stay down here. You’re too small.”

“But I want to climb with the rest of you; this game is no fun!” The little girl mumbled, frowning.

“Well, Little Dwarf. Your kind stay on the ground.” He turned to go join the rest of the children.

“I am not a dwarf!” Gilwen replied ardently, crossing her arms and glaring up at the older boy.

“Oh yeah?! Then why are you so short?” One of the other children called down from the top of the building laughing.

“I don’t know!” Gilwen retorted shifting her brown gaze to the smiling children on the top of the smithy. “But I am a girl. Dwarves had beards.” She said pointedly, and matter-of-factly.

Bronad had finally joined the others and was staring down at Gilwen with laughing brown eyes. “Maybe yours is just invisible!” He jested.

“Yeah. I bet you never get any taller!” One of the other children chimed.

“I will, too! Mama says I am going to be her size one day,” Gilwen replied before taking on a defiant air and stepping toward the crates herself.

“Aw, Little Dwarf, she’s just being nice!” One of the children called down. She shot them a look and began to climb. “She might not even be your Mama! She probably found you; in a cave somewhere!” The children erupted into laughter and Gilwen frowned.

“I am a girl!” She insisted fervently once more. She was standing on one of the crates now, hands on her hips.

“Gilwen, what are you doing? You’re too little.” Bronad said, jumping to the front of the little group of children. It was true, the other children were at least eight. And they were of normal sizes, and could easily scale the crates. And Bronad had no intention of angering her father. And would he be upset if he knew Bronad had let Gilwen hurt herself by climbing a stack of crates to the rooftop of another building!

“I am not too little.” Gilwen retorted, pausing a moment in her scale to shoot the boy a pointed glare with her pretty brown eyes. Inwardly, she was aware that she was. Still, if getting to the top made for no more name calling; well, the little girl was going to give it a shot.

Bronad seemed a bit anxious now, and was moving as if to descend the stack of crates. “It’s not a bad thing to be so little. Stay there, Gilwen. Your father wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

She pouted once more, and dropped her eyes to her feet, and then looked dolefully to the ground around the crate she was standing on. Still, she did not move in the least; her climb had halted, but the child was far from descending.

One of the other children came forward then and laughed down at her. “Yeah, dwarves are short because normal people can’t live in caves!” Oh, was the little child getting tired of hearing Nelion’s voice and laugh!

“Nelion, knock it off!” Bronad snapped, giving the boy a firm look.

The boy seemed upset that the older one had snapped at him so, and set his face deep into a frown. The other children were sniggering at him, now. And Nelion certainly was not going to let that stand. “What’s it matter to you? Do you like her?”

The sniggering and laughing children changed the recipient of their cruelty once more, and the ten-year-old frowned. Crowds were quite fickle; especially if the crowd was made up of eight and nine-year-olds. “No.” He insisted crossing his arms, and giving all of the children a disapproving look.

“Bronad and Gilwen!” One of the girls exclaimed with a sickeningly musical lilt before falling back into a fit of giggles.

“He must be a dwarf, too! Only dwarves can like other dwarves!” A boy offered, and the children laughed some more.

“He is not a dwarf.” Gilwen’s voice lofted up to the small group of children. As much as she hated to be somewhat picked on by her small group of friends, she never liked to see it happen to another. Aside from that, her mother always told her that a true lady, which was what her daughter was, would be kind and take care of others. “He’s too tall. That means he can’t like me.”

That had shut them up real fast. And Bronad tossed the small child a look from the top of the roof, and then looked back to the other numerous children that were waiting for this whole conversation to end so they could get to their game. For a moment, he seemed to weigh his options before he turned back to the crates. “Gilwen, get down from that crate. I am coming down now.”

And without so much as another word he began to descend the pile. Gilwen had moved off, though was confused as to why he was opting for the ground over their makeshift watchtower. Certainly it was more fun up there than it would be down here.

“Aw, Bronad, where are you going?” One of the boys whined. It seemed the group was now utterly lost without their leader.

The oldest didn’t even offer a response but turned to Gilwen instead. “C’mon. They aren’t worth it anyway.” He smiled, and the little girl smiled back.

“Bronad! Hey! This was your idea!”

They were still ignored, and Bronad and Gilwen walked out of the alley, the little girl looking up at him brightly. “Now where are we going?” She asked.

Bronad wasn’t quite sure where the two of them were going to go, so he shrugged. “Somewhere where even a little girl can have fun.”

He emphasized the word, and Gilwen beamed. He hadn’t called her a dwarf! She giggled and jogged a bit to keep up with his long strides.

“My mother was making cookies earlier. We could go get one.” Bronad offered, giving his little tow-along a quick glance.

“That sounds good!” She chimed happily.

“And the best part is that no dwarves can enter my house.” Bronad continued. For a moment, Gilwen’s face fell and her steps faltered. “Which means the other kids can’t bother us.”

Gilwen smiled once more and skipped forward eagerly. “Okay!” She exclaimed happily. She stopped a moment and looked up at him. “Thanks.”

Bronad looked down at her and grinned himself. “No problem. Now, we better hurry, or the cookies will be gone!” And with that, the two ran off; anxiously awaiting the taste of a fresh cookie.

[Gilwen]

Out on the Pelennor – Aged Eight

It was something that she had been forbidden from doing. Leaving the city walls was one of the rules her father had pounded into her since she could remember. Her boundaries were rather strict, though it was done out of her parents’ love for her. Gilwen knew this. She did not necessarily enjoy it, but certainly she had obeyed.

”We want nothing to happen to you,” her Papa would tell her. ”You are our little girl. And we are not ready to lose you.” Gilwen understood. But she wanted to see what was beyond the walls of the third tier. She could not venture past the gateway to the second tier, nor make her way past the third to the fourth. She was trapped, it seemed. Though, she could venture past both of those with an adult companion, perhaps to head to the marketplace with her Mama, it set the little girl into much distress to not know. And today, such rules would cause her to miss something she did not wish to.

Over the past few months, she and Bronad had gotten along quite nicely. He had adopted her, so to speak, and treated her as his little sister. Which was fine by little Gilwen, for the child had so desired any form of companionship and had oft wondered what it was like to have siblings. That is not to say that they did not play with the other children, too; simply that Bronad led the games to be things that even one of her size could partake in.

But now things were going to be different again. Bronad and his family were moving, and leaving the White City behind. He had explained it to her a few weeks ago. His grandmother had taken ill in Lamedon. They had to go take care of her.

At first Gilwen did not understand, for her own experiences with grandparents were minimal. And it was hard to grasp that a place could be so far away when you could not venture far at all. But when she had truly understood that this meant she would no longer be able to see him, the little thing had become a little ball of tears.

”I don’t really want to go,” Bronad had admitted.

”Then don’t!” Gilwen had wailed. But both knew he had no choice.

She could feel the tears again in her brown eyes. If it had been in her power to keep the little boy there, in Minas Tirith, she would have done so. She did not like the idea that her “brother” was leaving her behind. Niniel and Beregar had been sad for their daughter, but had assured her she would make new friends. They didn’t understand at all!

Today was the day. The twentieth of September, a mere six days after her eighth birthday, and Broand was leaving. It was with this knowledge and teary eyes that she had left the confines of her home to seek his family out to say goodbye before they set along their way.

Her father had headed off to work early in the morning, and Niniel before leaving to care for someone on the upper part of the third tier had granted her permission to see them off to the second gate. Gilwen had begged to go farther; her parents had refused. So, Gilwen had promised that she would go no further.

She was a little ways off from his house now. She could see their doorstep, and indeed the wagon of belongings that was right outside of their door. For some moments she just watched as Bronad and his father loaded the remaining things on to the back of the wagon, her pretty little face twisting into a frown. Why did they have to go? Could not his grandmother come here, instead?

Bronad had caught sight of the pitiful little thing standing alone on the cobbled street with her face so morose and wet from tears. He smiled, pleased that she had gotten there before his family had set out, though he was not all that pleased to be going. “Bronad, isn’t that your friend, Gilwen?” His mother asked him quietly seeing the teary-eyed child herself.

“Yes,” Bronad answered shortly. Still neither the girl nor boy made any move to go forward to see each other. They just stared and gazed from afar.

“Why don’t you go say goodbye?” His mother offered, lightly placing a hand on her son’s shoulder.

“She’s just going to cry.” Bronad replied quietly. “I don’t like to see her cry.” He finished quietly. His mother gave him a soft smile and then tried a different approach.

“No, I doubt you would. But years from now will you want her to think that you did not care for her enough to not wish her farewell?” His mother’s tone was soft, and gentle. The other children had already stopped by earlier, and Bronad had told them each goodbye. Being the only child to not receive such words would surely hurt the little girl more than hearing them would.

Bronad sighed, and began to move forward slowly, though stopped halfway and decided to try and cheer the little girl up. So, he planted his feet and crossed his arms. “Are you just going to stand there, then?” He asked, trying to add a playful glint in his eye.

Gilwen’s bottom lip trembled, and more tears quietly fell down her cheeks and she shook her head in answer. No, she was not going to just stand there. But her feet were not precisely listening to her head. She felt frozen in place. Finally, though, she moved toward him, stopping a mere two feet in front of the boy. It was quiet. Neither child spoke.

Finally it was Bronad who broke the silence. “Aw, chin up, Little Dwarf.” He teased lightly, though quickly changed tones. “I will write you.” He offered.

Gilwen felt a smile play at the sides of her lips. “No you won’t. You cannot write.” Nor indeed was the child very sound in reading. Writing was quite a chore, though, even for her. Even if a letter were to be sent, the correspondence would end there.

Bronad grinned a bit and replied, “Well, neither can you.” They shared a small bit of laughter over the matter, for a moment the sorrow of Bronad’s departure leaving them.

“Bronad. Time to go,” his father’s voice called.

“Are you walking with us?” He asked Gilwen after nodding back to his parents.

Momentarily the promise that she would not venture past the second tier gates sounded in her mind, but Gilwen just nodded. “Yes, I shall walk with you.”

“Your parents are going to let you leave the third tier?” The boy asked, eyes wide with surprise.

“It’s a special circumstance.” Gilwen replied, though she was actually simply trying to justify it to herself. To disobey her parents was sure to lead to sharp reprimanding. But she was not ready for him to be gone yet.

She had trailed with the family all the way to the main gate of the city. Bronad had just looked at her for a moment, and his parents had told her to tell Beregar and Niniel that they wished them well. Gilwen simply nodded to show that she would do such a thing, and the three of them had left.

Just like that, they were gone. Gilwen just stood in front of the wooden gate, as if she could will them all to return. And then, the tears streamed down her face. She had not even said goodbye! Not truly. For unknown reasons the guilt of that was weighing heavy on her little heart. Entirely self-imposed, that was for certain. Bronad would not have been cross with her for such a thing. Still, that did not stop little Gilwen to feel horrible.

That was when she had the idea to go catch him. She approached the gate meaningfully, and with the next swarm of people let out, she snuck out, too. However, by the time she had managed to work her way out to the Field, Bronad’s family was out of sight.

Oh, her tears were uncontrollable, and quietly the little girl set herself down in the golden grasses, to wait and let her tears run out. The other children weren’t nearly as nice to her as Bronad had been. Mama insisted that she’d make new friends. But how was she supposed to do such things? There were no new children!

It had been about half past eleven before the child’s tears had quelled. A full two hours she had sat in the sun, brimming eyes watching all of the horizons. She was not quite sure what direction Lamedon was in, after all, and should they return she would need to keep an eye on all angles.

Still, they did not return. In her heart, the little child understood that expecting such was childish and foolish. Grown-ups never seemed to change their mind. She let her eyes wander then, over the pretty landscape. Everything was so big. Unlike the cramped third tier, the open fields of the Pelennor were clean and fresh.

The breeze felt as if the Valar were consoling her tears. And the grasses cradled her until her trembles had ceased. The men working on the Field had paid her no mind, though every once in a while she would see one of the men watching her. Self-appointed guards, they had become. It was strange, perhaps, for such a small little thing to be out alone on the open grasses. It was as if they alternated making sure she was alright, though none approached her.

Finally the little girl picked herself from the ground and brushed off the skirts of her dress. It was almost time for lunch, and the little girl’s stomach was reminding her of such. And her mother would be readying food by the time she had returned.

But it took her quite a while to get her feet to urge her forward and back to the gates. Being outside the city walls was so lovely! Finally she began to move off. I shall come back. She told herself. Papa didn’t have to know.

She slipped back into the city and trekked back up to the third tier, not lingering or dawdling any once she was within the city walls. She could finally see her little home, and the girl’s steps quickened.

The door opened and clicked shut behind the child as she entered, and her mother’s head poked around the kitchen. “Oh, Gilwen. You’re home.” She offered a soft smile. The child simply looked at her and nodded politely. “Did you get to say goodbye?” She pried kindly. Niniel might have been trying to strike up kind conversation with her dear daughter, but the girl simply began to brim with tears again, and began to be taken by silent tears and sobs.

“No!” She wailed. She had seen him go. But she had not said “goodbye”. Niniel abandoned the stove and rushed around the wall that separated the living room and kitchen to grasp her daughter firmly in an embrace.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry.” Niniel cooed softly, her own eyes beginning to water for the sheer distress her little Gilwen was in. “Come, dear. Why not eat something?” She asked warmly. Anything to still her pretty girl’s tears and distract her.

Gilwen nodded sadly, and both moved into the kitchen. Niniel served the food quietly, a piece of bread and a small bit of stew. Finally the mother could take it no longer and said, “What do you say after you eat you come with me to take care of Lord Thindir?”

Gilwen had heard of the man, and had in fact seen him a few times when she was younger. He was an elderly gentleman who had recently fallen ill with age. He had gone to the Houses, but nothing could stop the wear of time. Niniel was charged with making sure he was well cared for at home, though. Until he passed into the Halls of Mandos. If there was one thing that could make him smile, it was children. And little Gilwen he had taken a fine fancy to. “Yes, Mama.” She answered. While the child had not really wished to go spend time with a dying man, it would seem cruel of her to deny him a smile.

“He will like to see how much you’ve grown,” Niniel smiled. Grown? She had hardly done such a thing. But Gilwen offered a small smile in response. “Eat up, then.” Niniel prodded gently to her daughter. And Gilwen did just that.

[Gilwen]

Falling to Silence - Aged Fifteen

She had not been working there a month, perhaps a few days less, but Gilwen still found parts of her work difficult to handle still. She was a ceaseless chatterer, and as such found the tie to silence quite hard to handle. Her hands were also becoming horrible to look at or feel; she had been on laundry duty since her first day. Lye water was turning them stiff and red, and for that the young teen was embarrassed.

The people were quite nice though. She took it all in stride; at fifteen, she was well able to help her family. Such a blessing it was to have a job to hold! And she had made quite good friends with another girl her own age—Lendien was her name. They often got their cleaning assignments together, and it was good because Lendien was akin to Gilwen’s own heart.

Today was a lovely day; the sun was shining brightly, and the air was a bit cooled for autumn. Nonetheless, everybody working amongst the palace desired to leave the walls behind and venture into the air. Gilwen and Lendien were no exception. Lendien’s eye raised carefully, and then flicked to Gilwen who was dutifully scrubbing beside her. “Gil,” she said quietly when she was certain no supervisors were around.

“Yes?” Gilwen answered back ever so softly.

“I cannot stand scrubbing this hallway any longer.” Lendien sighed, rocking back upon her kneed and putting down her scrub brush. It was a hallway in the back of the palace—nobody ever trekked through, and the sun was shining right in upon them and was making the free-spirited young girl grow restless.

“We have to,” Gilwen answered though understood why she would rather be elsewhere. Scrubbing was not a glorious task, no matter who you were.

Lendien sighed and picked back up her brush and resumed her duty. “Then we should make the time go faster.” She smiled. There were none in the hallway…it would not be terribly disruptive if they were to sing a bit. “Why should we not sing to pass the time? Surely everybody on such a day is singing anyway.” Lendien prompted.

Gilwen was confused; staying silent was one of the biggest rules of working in the palace. To break it? Oh, they would be let go! Aside from this, Gilwen was a talker, not a singer. “I do not think that is a good idea,” the little girl answered in response.

“Come now, none are here.” Lendien chimed, motioning. “Just one song?” Her words were pleading. “I do hate silence and working like this.”

Gilwen was a caring creature, and as such felt compelled to try and please her new friend. There was a long silence, and then a smile broke out across her little face, “All right. One song.”

Lendien beamed up at her. “Oh, Gilly!” It was clear the brunette had been pleased. “I shall start it then, and you join.” Gilwen nodded in response, her smile growing a bit large herself. So, Lendien thought a bit—trying to decide upon the song to make their working hearts and hands light.

“The sun rays in your eye,
The love you’re giving that I have found;
Like sun that shines though the sky,
Each love must be worth and sound.
The sun that shines each day,
The love you gave from your heart;
What matter what we do or say,
Never let it depart.

Each heart is broken only once
And never grows from sorrow,
Let there never be no bygones
Not today nor tomorrow.

Sun rays oh sun rays
Never hide behind a cloud,
Sun rays all my days
That's what love's all about;
Give me no raining shower thought,
Nor glimpse of shadows I've caught.”

Gilwen knew the song, though did well to wait to properly join. She did not wish to sing for long, for her voice was not as lovely as fair Lendien’s. Surely she could have been a minstrel and not a servant in the palace! It would have suited her better, certainly. After the short pause between the verse, Gilwen also let her voice raise with the next verse herself. It was surprisingly freeing, and Gilwen’s heart did lighten and soar by the words, and the little teen had certainly felt ease. Their work was much lighter when accompanied by song; it was a wonder they did not let the women sing in the palace!

“On each star brightening night
When only flickering light is around,
I wish you'd hold me so tight
My fright could surely be drowned;
The sun rays the feeling of touch
Each love is not made of stone,
You know I love you so much
Oh never let me be here alone.*”

Both girls smiled at one another and took a moment to regain their breath before moving on—oh, both of their eyes were sparkling intently. They were quite contented. Contented so, in fact, that neither girl realized that the Mistress was approaching.

“Lendien. Gilwen. Speech is forbidden. Did you think lyric was not?” The words were harsh, and chilled both of the teen’s hearts as a winter frost. Two pair of brown eyes looked up, the expression on their faces indicating they knew that they were in trouble and ashamed. The woman was stern of face, her hair grey from years of working and life. She was not small by any means, some of the fully-grown ladies looked up at the Mistress. She was heavier than some, but it seemed to only add to her imposing nature. Oh, Gilwen’s heart had never stopped beating for so long! “Get up. Both of you,” her eyes were as daggers, and instantly, both teens stood, overtaken by complete silence. It had not been the first time that Lendien had been chastised for speak out of turn; the woman was going to put an end to all such happenings today, as well as still any bad behavior that might sprout in the other girl--Gilwen.

At the Mistress’ side was another woman, though she was not nearly as stern in appearance. In fact, she looked very gentle and welcoming, though neither Gilwen nor Lendien had paid her any mind at this time. “Tathar, they have only just begun working here.” The other woman murmured softly, her eyes wide.

“It is best that they learn early.” Tathar replied, looking down at the other woman and then saying quite coldly, “Gather the other new girls. Indeed they all need to learn this lesson.” She flashed her eyes back to Gilwen and Lendien and said coldly, “You two follow me.” It was a long walk, and in silence it was completed.

Little Gilwen trailed behind the head of serving and Lendien fell in step beside her. “I’m sorry,” Lendien whispered to the girl. Gilwen’s brown eyes looked up at her, and she was certainly frightened. Oh, and she had reason to be, Lendien thought sadly. She was so little, even for her age.

They reached one of the palace courtyards. While many of the stone areas around the palace were a place of constant loitering, this one was well out of the way, and off limits to those who were not clothed in serving garb. A break area, if one could call it that, for those that worked their days away. Tathar looked down at the two girls and said, “Stand here and wait.” That was all the words that were said, and then the woman moved back toward the palace—and a great panic rose up in both teens left standing in the cool air.

“Has she gone to get it?” Lendien asked cautiously, and fervently. Gilwen could not bring herself to answer with words and nodded. “Oh, Gil, I am sorry!” Lendien said again. Both of them were trembling slightly. It would be no use to run, no matter how much neither of them wished to be where they were when the Mistress returned.

Gilwen forced a smile at her friend and said, “It is not your fault.” She said quietly. Her eyes were drawn to the end of the courtyard where all of the other girls were coming to gather. Meren, the kind lady that had been with the Mistress, was in the front, and her face looked sad. Such a punishment they were to receive, and for no true cause.

Tathar emerged once more, a black strip of leather tightly in her hand. Lashings, for both of them. How many still remained to be seen. At the very sight of it, though, Gilwen felt her little stomach churn and drop.

“I am beginning to think that you ladies do not understand our rules.” Tathar announced to the others that had gathered, as well as the two before the crowd. Many of the other girls were cringing already for Lendien and Gilwen, for a few of them had been made examples of three weeks ago.

“The Steward does not want to hear your talking.” She glared at another child who had done the grievance themselves. “And he sure does not want to hear you sing!” Her hands wrung the whip within her hands and she turned back to Gilwen and Lendien. “Both of you. Hands against the wall.”

Gilwen had a hard time getting herself to move; it was not something she wished to comply to. Still, somehow she managed to do it. Her hands were shaking horribly, though. She looked over to Lendien who was already tearing profusely. Gilwen did not understand why her own eyes were dry. Perhaps from shock? Or was her fear too great to warrant such a show?

Tathar said loudly, “Fifteen lashings.” And then turned back to face the two against the wall. They could feel her eyes on them. “Count them.” She ordered, and so it began.

For all of the preparing Gilwen tried to do, nothing could have prepared her for the searing pain that followed every loud crack of the leather. Lendien had received her punishment first, and by the first, the girl was openly sobbing. This seemed to only make Tathar more precise with her lash, and seemed to cut deeper. Gilwen vowed to herself that she would not cry until it was done.

It had been her turn too soon.

Every number she counted aloud expressed more pain and more discomfort, and her cheeks had glistened in tears and blood before the end. Her little body seemed to be on fire, and the feeling of warm blood on her back sickened the teen enough that it felt like she might vomit.

“Let this be a warning to the rest of you. The next girl gets twenty!” And just like that, everyone scattered. Gilwen had just stood there, unable to turn away from the wall, teeth gritted and body aching. She did not see what happened to Lendien, but only came to the realization that she was alone in the courtyard. All of her strength had vanished, and the child slumped down against the wall crying pitifully. She hid her face from everything, shaking and silently sobbing. All of this, for simply singing? She would never speak again, Gilwen was sure. The Mistress would very well forget the sound of her voice. She would never cause herself to be lashed again.

Her thoughts were startled away from her silent vow by a gentle voice, “It is going to be okay.” Gilwen whipped her head around, though the blazing pain that came with such a contortion had re-ignited her tears. There was a young man standing over her, and his face seemed quite concerned and gentle. Gilwen couldn’t respond, but felt his hands gingerly help her to her feet. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I just was walking by and---why don’t we wash you up, hm?” He murmured.

Gilwen’s tear streaked face looked up at him. He was tall, with dark hair. A handsome face he had, with light brown eyes. He could not have been much older than herself, perhaps a year or two. His clothing, though, was not of the servants. He was of the cavalry. She let the young man lead her away from the bloody wall.

They moved slowly and carefully to a well that was a bit off the beaten track of servants and guardsmen, and he motioned for her to sit on the side. He wondered at the little thing, she looked no more than thirteen years old. Had the crime really required such a punishment? He had a cloth with him that he was going to take to put with his supplies for training, and he drew up some water and dipped the cloth inside. “My name is Herion,” he finally said. “What is your name?” It was best to keep the little bloody thing talking—flushing the wounds was going to be a bit painful.

After a few sniffles, the little girl answered. “Gilwen.”

Herion gently touched her shoulder to brace her for the cold cloth and replied, “It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady.” He wiped a bit of the blood from her wound and Gilwen flinched. “I am sorry,” he murmured. “I should like to be more gentle, but I cannot promise it will not hurt.” There was a moment of silence. “After this you shall need a nice change of clothes.” The girl seemed utterly broken in spirit. How sad, she seemed so young!

“After you do that, though, I could take you to the stables. Do you like horses, Gilwen?” Gilwen nodded, wiping a tear from her eye. Herion smiled. “Then after we get you cleaned and changed, I shall introduce you to my horse. Would you like that?” The girl nodded once more. “Good. You should not go back to work like this, anyway.” And so, he set out to finish cleaning her wounds.

Lendien

*The Suns Rays by Peter S. Quinn.