Not Yet Dusk

[Faeldor]

Arm in arm, the Stable Master and his younger sister walked toward the Steward’s stables of the sixth tier. Today was not just any day to attend to the stables, but Faeldor was meeting someone there very shortly, and he would arrive early to greet her.

It was Midsummer’s Day in the White City. The air was warm, and only a slight breeze blew to cool off the city. Evening was approaching; most of the residents of the city were already sitting down for their suppers, and lighting the evening fires in their homes. Though; tonight was a special night. The Great Hall was in preparation for the annual Midsummer’s Eve Ball, to last from dusk until late into the evening. But, it was not yet dusk, and there were still preparations to be made.

And it was not only Midsummer’s Day, but our dear Stable Master’s birthday. The man was never too excited when his birthday came around, though as the oldest of the sons of Faelon, his mother always made a bit of a celebration out of it. It was rather embarrassing year after year, but the man appreciated the kindness, and he also appreciated the fact that the ball in the palace gave him reason to leave a bit early.

Something about it made Faeldor feel that it would be a good year. Seven and twenty, he was getting older. Though, he had a wonderful family, an enjoyable job, and a pleasantly gentle lady.

And just thinking of his lady; she should be arriving shortly, though she would be quite surprised when she made it. Gilwen knew of the ball tonight. She also knew well in advance that she had been granted the day off, for a lady such as herself should not be serving at a Steward’s ball. Gilwen was not held in very high regard in the palace, as of late. But Faeldor had insisted he was not going! He had asked for Gilwen to meet him at the stables, that they might enjoy a quiet evening together and in peace.

Truly though, it was all a ruse on Faeldor’s part. He was indeed dressed for the ball tonight. Faeldor wore his very best indeed; a cloth only intended for such fine evenings in the palace. A dress tunic of deep maroon with silver clasps and embroidery, and a silken shirt. His breeches were black, and he wore fine and shined boots. His hair was neatly combed back, and his beard trimmed. The Stable Master was certainly ready for a fine evening.

His young sister Narbeleth was dressed as well, and in all appearances when Gilwen showed up, she would see very what the two siblings were planning on attending this evening. What Gilwen would not notice right away, was that she would also be attending the ball. Faeldor had quite the surprise for her hidden in the Stable Master’s office. Soon enough though, she would learn of it.

[Gilwen]

Today was an important day. It was Midsummer’s Day, though that was not really why the day was so special. It was also the day of the annual Midsummer’s Ball, though that was not the reason it was important either. It was also, and most importantly, Faeldor son of Faelon’s birthday. Seven and twenty he turned today, and his little Gilwen had not let such a thing escape her.

She had been excused from work for the day; her reputation now being unfit to be presented before the steward. So, the woman had been rather well rested, though she had been quite excited to head down to the market as soon as it had opened. She had gone with her Mama a week or so ago in search of the perfect present for her beloved. And she had found it. In the music shop, there were sheets upon sheets of notes and songs. Gilwen did not know how to read them, but the elderly man that ran the shop had played some for her on his flute and fiddle. She had picked two of her favorites—the ones she felt Faeldor would enjoy the most—and had made the purchase. She had not had enough money at the time to spare, but the shopkeeper seemed rather understanding.

“Come to me with the payment when you have it. I shall save these for you.” And, Gilwen and Niniel had left rather pleased with themselves. It had looked as if she were not going to be able to save enough of her wages fast enough, and for a day or so she had been rather distraught. Still, she pulled a bit of extra hours and had been able to hold the remaining coins in her hand. So, early in the morning, she had trekked off to go get her Faeldor’s present. She gave the man her coins, and he presented them to her, already wrapped in a fine brown paper with twine. Gilwen was ever so proud of herself!

Her beloved had told her he was not going to the ball. That he would rather spend the evening with her. At first she had been a bit insistent that he go, for she had always wanted to, but could not afford such a things. She wished for him to have a good time, though, and tell her of it. All of the lovely dresses, the music and the dancing! Still, he had insisted that he spend the eve with her. As if she were all he wanted for his birthday.

She made it a point to look nice, for he had said they would do something special together. Maybe a horseback ride under the stars? Or perhaps he would simply take her to his garden and dance with her there. Or, walk down and out to The Pelennor and simply lie there for a time. No matter what it was, it sounded lovely. She would indeed love to spend time with him. Peace was hard to come by.

She had dressed in her day dress, one that was neither fancy—for that one had been ruined by wine a month or so ago—nor anything she would wear to work. A simple brown thing, that was neither expensive or lovely. Still, unless she desired to wear her serving gown—and she did not—that was all she had to wear. Faeldor would forgive her, surely. Such things mattered not for a simple evening spent in one another’s company.

She had done her hair nicely, and had rested. Gilwen was, by all means, looking rather well that evening. Her mother had been kind enough to distract Beregar so that Gilwen could slip out with Faeldor’s gift and head up to the stables where she had been told to meet him before dusk.

She worked her way to the stable, and finally was within sight of it. She was already smiling! She could not wait to gift him the sheet music, and simply sit with him! He was sure to be distressed she had spent some of her wages on a present for him, but Gilwen would not have been able to be swayed. It was his birthday. And he of all people deserved a bit of celebration.

She had taken a deep breath as she entered the relatively empty stable, her eyes immediately in search of the Master. She almost didn’t recognize him. He was clad in rich fabrics and neatly dressed. The finest clothes Gilwen had ever laid eyes on, certainly. Maroon that looked dashing against his skin, and silver accents that matched his eyes. And Beleth! She was there as well, dressed lavishly and lovely. Attire that would not do for a quiet outing.

But for the ball.

Gilwen’s heart sank immediately. Though, inwardly she tried to remind herself that this was what she had wanted for him. She still crossed to him, though and smiled sweetly. If nothing else, she could give him his gift before they went. She mused she could go back down to her own home and rest more. That would be nice.

What had happened? Why the change of plans? She did well to hide her disappointment, though. She would not wish to trouble Faeldor on his birthday.

[Faeldor]

Faeldor was waiting impatiently near Thissel’s stall at the time, showing Beleth how gentle and calm the mare was becoming. The man was pacing slightly, back and forth, while his sister touched the velvet nose of the horse with her fingertips, though stayed far enough away that the mare might not nuzzle and sully her dress.

“I will surely give way the surprise,” Narbeleth mused excitedly.

“That you would not speak at all, Firelight,” answered the Stable Master laughingly. “You have kept it secret for two weeks now, and I imagine a few minutes longer will not be so difficult.”

“Oh, but I will wish to! She will be so delighted!” Beleth was quite excited, both for Gilwen, and for herself. Narbeleth was only eighteen, and this was the first ball she had been allowed to attend in the palace. She was well ready for an evening of dancing, and fun. And Faeldor would be so pleased! To have Gilwen accompany him would be so pleasant.

“Is that her coming?” the young woman asked beneath her breath, noticing a female figure entering the stables in the early evening light.

Faeldor turned around and looked up, then smiled. “It is.” He halted his paces and stood to wait for her approach. As she came closer, it seemed to Faeldor that the young woman looked lovelier than ever. She was not wearing her serving dress, and it seemed she had taken extra care with her hair. She had dressed to see him; it was quite obvious, and it well pleased the man. Though Faeldor prided himself in loving the woman for her sweet and gentle spirit, he was still quite taken by her appearance.

Narbeleth had a habit of running to greet her friend with an embrace, but today she allowed Faeldor to do the greetings. She would have alone time with Gilwen soon enough, she knew. For now, she simply smiled and greeted her with a nod, then watched from the corner of her eye as she returned her fingertips to Thissel.

The man stepped forward with a short bow to his lady, and took her hand, kissing her once upon the knuckle in an appropriate manner, but finding another placed upon her wrist. “Good evening, my lovely,” he muttered, quite loud enough for only Gilwen to hear. Narbeleth grinned and cooed to Thissel, giving the couple their moment. “It is so wonderful to see you today.”

Faeldor had sensed a slight look of confusion in Gilwen’s eyes, perhaps only because he had been looking for it. He said nothing though of tonight, for he would wait to see her reaction first. Such was his way of setting little Gilwen’s heart. When he showed his lady her dancing dress, he would cherish her response.

[Gilwen]

Despite her confusion at his dress and sudden change of plans, the woman held herself together quite nicely. Faeldor approached her, and Beleth seemed to occupy herself with the mare in the stall. Avoiding Gilwen, perhaps? Fleetingly Gilwen wondered if it was because the woman did wish to give them alone time or because she was trying to make sure Gilwen was not angered at Faeldor’s escorting her to the ball. Heavens, she had no reason to fear!

Gilwen was just a bit saddened that she would not be able to spend his birthday with him. He swept up her hand in a courtly greeting, though a bit of his passions showed in the small kiss he gifted her wrist. “Good evening, my lovely.” Gilwen smiled at him. “Good eve,” she replied lightly. He righted himself, and for a moment the woman lost control of her voice. My, he looked so handsome! She was quite taken aback by how he was dressed and how courtly he seemed. It almost made the inner servant surface, and have her eyes lower to the ground. She did restrain from such a thing, though only because she knew it would sadden him if she did such a thing. Though, part of her relished the fact that she could look upon this striking man and not be scolded.

“It is so wonderful to see you today.”

“I would not let such a day go without seeing you,” Gilwen replied softly and gently. She was working hard not to let her voice get the best of her. She did not, after all, wish to sound sad or disappointed. Her face glowed into a smile and she squeezed his hand. “Happy Birthday, Fael.” Seven and twenty. My, that sounded strange to think. Though, she mused with both happiness and sadness, she should get used to such changes in years and ages. She only hoped another one did not pass for him without her father’s blessing on their marriage. That would ruin any hopes she had of a family of her own, for certain.

To distract herself from the blush that was rising in her cheeks she looked down to the small package that she held in her hand and soundlessly extended it to him with smiling eyes. She did so desire to him open it, though knew before he did so he would scold her for buying him anything. She had wanted to show it to Beleth first, to gauge his reaction, but sadly she had not been able to find time to see her. The look on her face clearly displayed a feeling of joy at being able to give him anything, as well as a clear reading that this gift was for him.

Though who else would it be for? “Do open it before you go.” She added quietly. She glanced over to Beleth for a moment and then looked back to the Stable Master. “She seems ready and I would not have you keep her.” She fell into silence once more and added, in a voice no louder than a whisper, “You look very handsome.”

[Faeldor]

And Gilwen had a gift for him! A birthday present, it must be. She should not have gone through the trouble. Surely she could not afford such a thing. Faeldor parted his lips as if to say something, though then he changed his mind and just smiled. He would not disappoint her. “I should like to open it now,” he grinned. Though, as he looked down at the little package, Gilwen commented on the fact that Beleth looked ready to go.

“I can wait,” Narbeleth had overheard, and replied sweetly, and knowingly. She was smiling with the secret now. She could very well wait. Her job here was not yet through, for soon Gilwen would need her assistance in readying herself.

Faeldor said nothing to Beleth’s comment, and simply smiled, though looked down at the package again, ready to open it. He did love surprises, afterall, even if Gilwen need not have gone through the trouble. “You look very handsome.” The man looked at Gilwen curiously for a moment. It was certainly bold statement for the lady to make. She was always hesitant on commenting in such a way. He stopped, looking at the lovely woman for just a moment. “And you are alluring.” He knew it would make the lady blush, but he enjoyed giving her the compliment.

Beleth’s interest was piqued now, and she wandered over to see Faeldor open the little gift; she still smiled, though was afraid to look at Gilwen, should she give way the secret with her eyes.

Faeldor slowly undid the twine, and carefully pulled aside the paper. His smile increased when he saw what was inside. Little Gilwen had come to know the man quite well, and she knew that his soul thrived off of music. “Thank you, Gilwen,” he smiled happily, and moved closer to the woman to press a kiss to her forehead. Then, he decided right there that he did not mind Beleth’s presence, and he leaned down to brush Gilwen’s lips. He was finding amusement in her blush this evening. Narbeleth held back her giggle, but when Faeldor stepped back again to look over the music, she came in near him.

The Stable Master looked at the notes and hummed the melody. “Well, I do not know this one; I have not played it before,” he wondered aloud. Beleth leaned in to look and read the notes with him. “I think I have heard it. In fact, I am certain. It is quite the lovely piece.” She smiled at Gilwen, then she surprised even her brother by singing a short verse to it.

“And you know the lyric?” Faeldor was quite excited. “You must teach it to Gilwen, and then she might sing along while I play. I do wish I had my flute with me right now, and I would play it for you.”

Faeldor had wondered for a time; how exactly would he get Gilwen to his quarters, but now the idea sprang to him. “I should practice it though, as soon as I return home. And next time I see you I will play it for you. Come, we will sit it on my desk for now, and I will take it later.” The man took Gilwen’s hand, and leaned once more to kiss her cheek. The stables were quite empty, and he had no fear of doing so.

“Oh, and I have left something on your bed, Fael,” Beleth chimed in, getting the hint that it was now time for the surprise! She made her excuse to follow, and follow she did.

[Gilwen]

“I should like to open it now.”

That had made Gilwen ever more cheery. To know he had not spoken to her on why she should not have gotten him anything and simply accepted it; that had made her quite pleased indeed. She was, at that point, certain that her spirits were high enough to watch Beleth and he go off on their way. Beleth had said she could wait, though Gilwen did not wish them to wait long. They could, after all, end up being late to the ball. How sad that would be indeed!

Her compliment had stilled Faeldor’s attempts to open the gift, though, and for a moment Gilwen wondered if she had spoken out of turn. It seemed though that Faeldor was simply surprised that she had spoken in such a way. Indeed it was a bit surprising to Gilwen, and she thought on it. She had never told him how striking of a man he was. A slight color came to her cheeks as he looked at her, though it increased tenfold when he spoke his response. “And you are alluring.” She immediately dropped her gaze and caught her breath. Goodness! Had Beleth heard? She had been walking over, it seemed.

She frantically tried to regain control, though as she fought to do so, the more undone she seemed to have become. It was the fact that Faeldor had finally opened the present that had called her blush to begin to diminish. His eyes seemed to brighten as the paper and twine fell away, and that pleased Gilwen immensely as well. He had enjoyed her gift! “Thank you, Gilwen.” She was about to respond and tell him he need not thank her, but she was thrust once more into a deep blush as his lips grazed her forehead in front of his sister.

Not to mention the stable lads that had to be somewhere about. Still, she had felt that she might be able to work through it when the familiarity of a bristled kiss was gifted her upon her lips. Narbeleth standing right there. The color that came to her cheeks at such a public display of his affections looked to be the same as an apple or berry. Oh, and her heart was pounding loud enough to be heard outside her chest. Her head was spinning and for a moment, Gilwen was literally dizzy with embarrassment. She could find no words for Faeldor now, that was certain. She gasped slightly, and dropped her eyes to the floor. Blessed Eru, in front of his sister!

“You must teach it to Gilwen, and then she might sing along while I play. I do wish I had my flute with me right now, and I would play it for you.”

She could not even find the words to tell Faeldor that she would not sing---whatever had given him the idea she would? She had not yet, after all. She, though, did not remember the night atop the mountain. Faeldor announced that they should put the music in his quarters, and she had followed, still entirely speechless. And he still took her hand and kissed her cheek! Another wave of dizziness overtook her, but her footsteps were solid enough and the three of them made their way back to the small little stone room, Gilwen still beet red in the face and silent. But, Faeldor was quite used to that by now.

[Faeldor]

Faeldor was in fine spirits as he walked Gilwen toward his room; Beleth caught up to them and walked on Faeldor’s other side. The man paused for a moment as they reached the wooden door, looking to Narbeleth and winking. Gilwen would certainly not notice the look that passed between them there, for her face was still red, and she was certainly trying to fend off her blush from the last kiss he had gifted her. He was quite proud of the effect.

The Stable Master pushed open the door to his quarters, and lightly led Gilwen into the room, saying nothing for the moment, but then stopping and looking at her. “I expect you will need some minutes to ready yourself for the ball,” he bent slightly to mutter against Gilwen’s ear, a smile on his face as he gave her the news, gingerly turning her by the shoulders to face his bed, where spread was the dress Arien had made for her.

It was the loveliest dress Faeldor thought he had ever seen; entirely of a lightweight silk; a rather expensive material brought by trade from Near Harad. Faeldor was lucky that Arien had enough of the fabric in her shop when he had ordered it, and the woman had been more than glad to make a dress for her friend. The dancing dress was a dark blue, with silver trim at the waist and neck, and elegant embroidery. The belt was Faeldor’s favorite part, for it would sit right at Gilwen’s waist, and the stitching on it denoted little petals, starflowers, and forget-me-nots, and if the lady were to look closely she would see how artistically the “G” and “F” of each of their names had been stitched and intertwined among the rest.

At the end of the bed waited a matching pair of dancing slippers; Faeldor was not one to forget the finer details, and as well there was a lovely silver pin for her hair. Beleth had brought along her combs and brushes, and would have the woman ready in no time at all.

“It would not be a perfect birthday if I did not have a dance with my Starlight, afterall,” Faeldor said, touching the woman on the waist lightly, and waiting for her response.

[Gilwen]

Gilwen had followed into the room without a second though. Certainly Faeldor would put down his music, then turn and they would part ways for the evening. Though, Gilwen would have to linger in the stable long enough to truly quell the raging red in her cheeks. Her father would certainly notice it.

But, it seemed Gilwen’s surprise for Faeldor had not been the only one planned. Before the Stable Master had even set the music down, he had turned to her and spoke of the ball. Ready herself for the ball? Whatever was he talking about? She had no fine things to wear, and she certainly could not go dressed as she was.

He had turned her by the shoulders, gently guiding her to look at the cot. Immediately Gilwen gasped and took a hand to cover her mouth, and the color drained from her cheeks in her surprise. It was, by far, the most expensive dress she had ever laid eyes upon. And lovely! It looked soft to the touch; it was certainly soft on the eye. The darkest blue and silver. And it looked ever so expensive. It did appear the belt had been made custom, for she had never seen such a design before. “Faeldor…” Gilwen was breathless.

What on earth had he done? Had he paid for a dress to take her to the ball? On his birthday, was he truly giving her a present? Still, aside from such thoughts she was secretly excited. She had always desired to go to a ball, and this would mark her first. Nonetheless, the humble and prideful side took precedence on her tongue. “It is your birthday, Fael. You do not buy other’s gifts on your birthday.” Especially ones that were more expensive than the ones you received.

Looking at it, and the slippers, she just felt that this was worth well over two months salary on her part. How could he have done something so…grand? “It would not be a perfect birthday if I did not have a dance with my Starlight, afterall.” His fingers touched her waist and the woman finally turned to look at him. “It is beautiful,” she wished to say she could not take it. It was far too expensive. But her tongue had lost its words. Her words and breath had been stolen this evening.

[Faeldor]

Faeldor was beaming at the look of wonderment on Gilwen’s face, and Narbeleth laughed aloud now that the secret had been revealed. Gilwen simply repeated Faeldor’s name. It seemed she was unable to say anything else. Until finally, she made the likely response.

“It is your birthday, Fael. You do not buy other’s gifts on your birthday.” The man laughed in his excitement to give Gilwen her pretty gift. “I hear tales that there is a place in the Northernlands where people throw great parties on their birthdays, and give gifts to each who attends. Have you ever heard of the Halflings before? Jolly folk, they are…”

“Put it on, dear,” Faeldor urged. “I wish to see you in it.” The Stable Master had difficulty taking his eyes off Gilwen right now with the way she was dressed, but in some minutes he knew he would be infatuated with the lady.

“Come, dear, let us ready you,” Narbeleth laughed in agreement. Now it was her turn to have the fun, since her brother had finished with his little surprise. The young woman took Gilwen by both hands and pulled her nearer the bed, then turned to her brother. “Out, Fael; you shall await your Starlight Maiden with the horses.” She gently pushed Faeldor, who was simply standing in the room and grinning now, out the door, and shut it closed behind her.

Faeldor laughed slightly to himself and turned, moving to lean against the stone wall as he waited. My, but he was glad that the surprise was finally over… he had been waiting weeks to tell her. He sighed, imagining how lovely his lady would look. Then he waited. And waited. He looked outside at the sun, which was lowering itself beyond the city. My, but women did take a long time to dress.

[Calon]

His grandmother had dressed him, or rather, made sure he was dressed fully and neatly well before the ball was scheduled to begin. Istien had insisted that Calon not delay, though the curly-haired man had tried to do so in every way possible. He could not outright tell his grandmother that he was going to skip the whole thing, but he did express his distaste for formal affairs and of the tunic he wore. “It is frilly, Grandmother. My hunting vest is far more suited to me.”

“Nonsense,” Istien had replied happily. “You look dashing. Every young lady at the ball tonight will think so.” And that had ended that conversation. Calon sighed, looking to himself in the looking-glass. The tunic, in truth, was not frilly or gaudy. Though, to a man who enjoyed frolicking in the woods in greens and browns it was quite over the top. It was velveteen, and blue; the same shade, as his grandmother had so kindly observed, as his eyes. His leggings were blue as well, though so dark they almost looked to be black. The new silver clasps caught the candlelight, and the embroidery of silver thread was a bit lost in the dimness. Stars and branches they were, obviously an homage to Gondor itself. Though Calon rather thought they looked like flowers. No man should ever wear flowers.

He had excused himself by putting on a rather splendid façade of nerves. “I do not wish to be late, Grandmother.” He had kissed her cheek, nodded to his grandfather, and scooted out the door. Though, he did not make way to the Palace. It was to the stable on the sixth tier he went to, the place where he had taken up a job. He had longed to go spend time with his own mount, though his grandparents would have likely watched him head the wrong direction and call him on his ploy. A rather brilliant one, he thought, to avoid the dancing altogether. He had no one to bring, and unlike his grandmother’s idea, the chances of finding an unescorted woman there were slim. Aside, all the woman would wish to do is dance; and that was not to Calon’s liking in the least. He entered, passing a few of the stable-lads along the way and found himself a wall to occupy himself with.

He could not rightly enter into a stall, for his grandparents would certainly see smudges on his newly-cleaned tunic. It was going to be hard enough to explain the smell, but he might say that one of the lads had needed him for some moments, and thus he came to the stables. With a sigh of content he leaned against the wall. His clothing looked outlandish for the setting, but he did not mind terribly much. None he worked with would see him. He had very little dealings with the night-shift workers.

It was to his horror that he noticed the Stable Master not too far off. He was dressed nicely, obviously planning on attending the ball himself. It was not that he did not like Faeldor, for in truth he had always been rather jolly—save for one week. But such emotions had soon passed—and he was quite skilled with horses. It was that he did not wish for his boss to see him so compromised. Velveteen on a man such as Calon? Very compromising indeed. He did appear to be waiting for someone, and as such Calon prayed he would not catch notice of him. Blue velvet was quite embarrassing to him. Perhaps whomever he was waiting on would arrive shortly and he would go.

He dropped his blue eyes to the ground then, and stared at his boots to not draw attention to himself. Though someone dressed so nicely was bound to be noticed, despite all precautions.

[Gilwen]

Halflings? Yes, she had heard of them, but it certainly did not apply here. Faeldor was no Halfling. Nor was she. “Put it on, dear, I wish to see you in it.” Gilwen was unaware if he truly did wish to see her in it, for he certainly stood there and made it impossible for her to change until sweet Beleth had shoved him out the door. She was rather bright and excited. “He has had this planned a long time, then?” Gilwen observed breathlessly once more.

She did not stand and speak for long, though, for Faeldor was now waiting on her, and Gilwen’s own excitement drove her to move rather quickly. Oh, she immediately crossed to it and fingered the fabric delicately. She had never owned something so fine!

Her fingers found the ties to her dress, and she quietly and quickly began to loosen them. Part of her was embarrassed for the presence of Narbeleth, but she consoled herself in knowing that Beleth was a friend to her. Still, she was a bit apprehensive in baring her back before her; it was a bit of a sight to see. Her otherwise pale skin had long and thin marks that ran down parallel to her spine. None had seen them before, save for her mother.

She had never felt so much apprehension at getting changed before. What would Beleth say of it? It was quite a noticeable sight. Though, it was also rather obvious what had put such scars upon her.

Before the new supervisor had taken over, the form of punishment at work was taking lashings. Gilwen had been sent to receive a set herself her first few months of work, for a grievance that had been utterly ridiculous. Still, she had carried the scars since she was fifteen and they would undoubtedly stay with her for the rest of her life. She worried what impression that would give Beleth on her character, or if she would speak of them to her brother.

Perhaps she would not notice them at all.

Though such was a small possibility. They stood out quite nicely, even after ten years of healing.

[Faeldor]

Faeldor was humming to himself, trying to pass the time while he waited. Waiting could be such a bother at times! My, but he did notice his increasing impatience for waiting lately. However, he was sure the wait would be well worth it. Gilwen would be quite lovely to behold… and to hold, he mused. He was glad that everything had managed to work out, and that Arien had been able to finish the dress on such short notice.

All of a sudden, Faeldor noticed another man standing not far away. He made no judgement of manliness by the velveteen, for Faeldor himself was dressed in silk, but he did make the judgement that young Calon must also be readying to attend the ball. Was he waiting for a lady to meet him here as well? That struck him quite odd, for he had never seen a lady here to visit him before.

“Calon,” the Stable Master said in a friendly manner, approaching the man. He seemed to be simply standing quietly outside one of the stalls. Perhaps he was meeting someone; he looked nervous. Well, Faeldor would simply greet him, and let him carry on with his escort while Gilwen readied.

“It doesn’t seem you are dressed for work,” he commented. “Are you meeting someone here as well for the ball?” The Stable Master’s voice was cheery, though questioning. He glanced at the horse that the young man was admiring.

[Narbeleth]

Narbeleth was beaming, quite ready to play dress up with Gilwen. The young woman was quite wild in most regards, though there were times such as this when she truly enjoyed dressing up. And this would be their first ball together! Narbeleth was glad to have someone to share the excitement of it with.

The daughter of Faelon was dressed entirely grand this eve, with a long dress, the green color of summer. Though Beleth was a slender woman, the dress gave her quite a comely stature, with the waist and belt of silver placed at just the perfect level to accent her figure. The sleeves were long and elegant, though not cumbersome, and the neck dipped low; though not to compromise her, even while dancing. Beleth wore a lovely silver necklace with a pendant upon it; her mother’s jewelery gifted her for the evening of her first ball.

“Indeed he has been planning it ever since he remembered that the ball was upcoming. Poor dear; he had no idea as to how to get a dress to you until that day he went to Arien’s shop with Miriel and realized that you two were friends. She is quite the sneaky seamstress, I might say; she said it should fit perfectly, and I don’t doubt her word,” Beleth started in on an explanation.

“Here, let me help,” she chimed as Gilwen seemed to falter with her dress strings. Narbeleth simply thought that perhaps she was excited, and her fingers weren’t quite cooperating. “I know you can likely do it on your own, but this will be quicker. Faeldor is surely waiting on his toes to see how lovely you will look. He is so taken by you, ever since that very first day. I am quite astounded by it.” Narbeleth moved in behind Gilwen to assist.

“I know you are not used to having a handmaiden to dress you, though neither am I. I find it frivolous indeed. But I do assist Miriel at times. It is fun truly; to help another get dressed up for these occasions.” The young woman had finished unlacing the back of Gilwen’s dress, and let it fall down to the floor. Immediately she noticed the scars.

“Oh…” she said aloud. “These are old, are they not?” She touched one of the white lines with cool and gentle fingers. “Why would someone do that to you? Who did that to you?” she questioned softly, and a bit sadly. It was a shame that someone had gone and scarred her that way. And it must have hurt terribly when it happened. Faeldor certainly would not approve of such, though, she doubted he knew of it.

[Calon]

“Calon.”

Well there went an evening free from being noticed. Calon was rather upset by such a thing, though did well to hide it. “Master Faeldor,” he responded lightly, pushing himself away from the stall door and turning to face him. Well, at least he was in silk. If anything passed from his mouth be way of jest or tease, Calon would have no problem countering. Oh, balls did seem dreadfully angled for women. They should have a grand hunt instead, to honor the men of the city.

That actually sounded rather enticing. Calon would certainly seek to gather a few men to do exactly that. Though, the last time he had gone out it had almost been the death of him. Perhaps not for a while, then.

Faeldor commented on his dress, though only to observe it was too fine of wear to be at work. Calon smiled at him. “No, I am not listed for duty tonight. Though, if you are understaffed I will gladly assist.” Perhaps a loophole had been found! Fancy meeting the Stable Master in the stable when he was off duty!

“Are you meeting someone here as well for the ball?”

Meeting someone? Quite the opposite. Calon chuckled slightly, crossing his arms in a rather heightened sense of manliness. “No, I thought I would make sure the horses are all alright.” Calon was not one to lie, truly. But if it meant that he could avoid the ball, he would be obliged to try anything. Even if Faeldor was his superior and controlled his payments. “If I actually make it to the dance, I am quite alone.”

Please give me work. The man pleaded silently. Propriety and proper socializing seemed like a bore. The tavern sounded pleasing enough. Or a night-time ride. Even sitting here, with his horses had been fine enough for the man.

“You, though, must be waiting.” Calon grinned boyishly for a moment. He had recalled seeing a woman come to the stables and speak with him. He was unsure, in truth, if the woman was his partner for the evening, though it did seem likely.

[Gilwen]

Gilwen seemed flattered and was entirely pleased at learning that Faeldor had planned such a fine evening for quite a while. It implied he thought of her often, even when she was not necessarily around him to remind him of herself. Narbeleth, though, was quite like Faeldor and her tongue could hardly sit still for any length of time, and so she continued speaking about how Faeldor had had a time finding her a dress. Though, the shopkeepers name that was mentioned within this statement was quite familiar to the serving woman.

“Arien made this gown then?” Her voice was excited, and her eyes sparkled all the more. She had been friends with the strong and talented seamstress for some time, though she had never been able to purchase anything this lovely from her. And she had not gotten a new garment from her at all in quite a while. Oh, but her face was beaming at the thought. How proudly she would war it then. For her Faeldor had picked it, and her friend had made it. However perfect it seemed to be!

“I know you can likely do it on your own, but this will be quicker.”

“Oh yes, of course.” Gilwen managed to say, disregarding the feeling that was welling within her to politely refuse. She did not truly wish her secret to be known quite yet. If ever. Faeldor did not even know of the scars she carried. Part of her wished they would disappear, though knew that was not going to happen. Faeldor, she imagined, would one day see them. Such a thought caused her to blush for what it implied, though the color was quelled quickly by the thought of his anger over them.

It would not be at her, certainly, but at how she had received them. A logical question would be “how” and ”why” she had gotten them. She would be obliged to answer in truthfulness.

Her thoughts had cut out the remaining words Beleth uttered, though they were certainly lovely and endearing. The dress dropped to the floor, and Gilwen cringed, awaiting the reaction. “Oh…These are old, are they not?”

“Yes,” Gilwen murmured quietly in response, bashfully and sadly staring at the cot before her. “Quite old.”

“Why would someone do that to you? Who did that to you?”

There it was; the question that Gilwen did not desire to answer. “It is nothing, truly.” That was quite an exaggeration, for Gilwen distinctly remembered receiving the marks and they had been entirely painful and horrendous. “Many of the serving women have them, if they have labored for more than seven years.” She continued finally. She dropped her voice to a whisper, and shivered as Narbeleth’s fingers traced one of the lines down her back. “I…” She sought for the words to explain them. She changed directions a bit. “Lashings are a common form of punishment. Or, they were at the time.”

That was all she desired to say on the matter, though wondered aside if this would satiate Narbeleth or not. Would she tell Faeldor of them? Oh, however horrible this was turning to be. Her cheeks flushed slightly, and her eyes closed to keep herself under control. She did not wish to cry, but at the thought of her first month at the palace she did feel the need to weep.