Watered Wine in the Gardens (Gilwen)

[Faeldor]

It had been an impressive evening. Faeldor thought that his birthday hardly could have found a way to be any better. He had spent a wonderful day with his family, and a wonderful evening with his Lady, among many friends. There had been music, dance, and wine, as well as Gilwen on his arm, dressed lovely as she was. It was not difficult for the couple to stay until late into the evening. Faeldor would not wish to take Gilwen out of her first ball early afterall, and they were both enjoying themselves. He had watched as both of his sisters had departed before them. Miriel first; she had seemed tired even upon her arrival. Narbeleth had surprised him though, and left soon after. She had been so excited about attending her first event, but perhaps it had been a poor choice to send her with young Calon. He had seen them dancing a few times, but it had seemed to take his sister much prompting to get him to do so, and she had probably not enjoyed herself.

There was not too much concern now though, by way of the Stable Master. He was content with Gilwen as they exited the hall, late into the night, and felt the fresh air brush over their skin and ruffle their hair. My, but a contrast in temperature it seemed!

Faeldor led the way down the steps, with Gilwen securely on his arm, laughing slightly as he thought to himself. “We have both broken our vow tonight,” he mused finally, thinking that Gilwen might wonder at his laughter. “The wine was delightful though. Gondor’s finest, I am certain.”

In truth, Faeldor had thought of the matter before he had offered the glass to Gilwen. He knew very well her reaction last time, though he had displayed precaution. The serving ladies seemed quite amused when he had asked for a glass that was just one part wine and two parts water. Was he serving a child? They had wondered it, though did not ask, but indeed did watch as he went returned to his lady. Her eyes did widen at the look of the full glass, but with amused eyes he told her of its watered state.

Even with such measures being taken, Faeldor did not wish to make his Gilwen nervous, and only consumed a single glass himself. It was not enough to quench his thirst, let alone affect him in any way, so she had nothing to worry about. Faeldor though, would certainly not let his lady wander far from him now though. He had kept an eye on her even when she shared dances with the others. Though, he did chastise himself for one particular dance.

He had been well enjoying himself with the Lady Miroesa, who was indeed a fine dancer as any Lady of Belfalas. It was not until the dance ended that he saw Gilwen parting with Durion. Fine fate! The man must have been watching to make sure that Faeldor had been occupied, otherwise the coward never would have dared touch his lady. Gilwen had seemed flustered at the end of it, though he had not questioned it, not wishing to draw on his own anger at the man. Any woman in Gilwen’s situation would have been upset at the mere fact of dancing with such a man. Especially after what he had put her through, and Gilwen was too sweet to lay the man out and refuse him a dance; at least at such a public event.

After that though! Faeldor had kept Gilwen quite appropriately at his side for the remainder of the evening. And she still was! She was far from being as drunk as she had been that night on the mountain, but it was still quite obvious that the wine had affected her. Faeldor had thus far been careful not to encourage her to act in a nature that she would regret, walking with her only on his arm while in the hall. Now though as the exited, he took his arm from her own, and instead placed it around her waist. Should she stumble going down the steps, she would be entirely safe with him.

Her talking though; she hardly needed encouragement for it now. In the past hour she had spoken to him more than she had since their night away; including all of their morning walks combined, and even her visits to the stables. To someone who did not know her, nothing would seem out of the ordinary, but the normally mute woman was leading lovely conversation now. Faeldor could not say that he did not enjoy it, as much as he enjoyed her peaceful demeanor at other times.

“Well, my Starlight, shall we stroll toward my gardens before I take you home? The moon is new and I would enjoy some minutes with just you. It has been quite some time since we have had a chance to just sit together.” He squeezed her waist, drawing her close to him against the chill of the evening, and kissing her hair as they made it down the steps and into the courtyard of the citadel.

[Gilwen]

Gilwen had been very surprised when a glass of red wine had been offered to her. By the very one who vowed they should not partake of such a drink together for a time, no less! She was certain that the women working the table of drinks had been quite amused over such a mixture of wine and water—perhaps as entertained as Faeldor was himself.

And the effects that such liquid had on her? Even in such a watered state it was evident her tongue had been loosened. She had chatted quietly with her Faeldor, or indeed any other soul that had crossed paths with her. A part of her was aware of the change and frightened by it, though some part of herself deep inside was elated to not be tied to quiet as she normally was. And what harm had come of it? Faeldor’s eyes and hand had protectively guided her throughout the evening. She had done nothing to embarrass herself, or others. And she certainly hadn’t thrown herself at her Horse Master like she had upon the mountain. And for this, she was grateful.

The left the Ball now, the event having closed quite nicely, stepping into the loveliness of the cool night air. Gilwen had not realized how warm the room had become filled with so many bodies. She surely knew it now, and was glad for the man at her arm that warmed her still.

It was he who began to laugh as the exited, and curiously she looked up to him. “We have both broken our vow tonight, The wine was delightful though. Gondor’s finest, I am certain.” Gilwen smiled slightly, and the very wine he spoke of let her tongue reply, “It was you who sought to break the vow.” It was still rather quiet, though under normal circumstances, she never would have fallen to speech at such a comment. Rather, she would have found herself blushing and looking away, or perhaps merely saying his name and dropping all other words. Faeldor would surely see the effect his actions had caused. “Though, it was quite nice. Even being so diluted.” Her words bubbled over into a light laughter.

She had noticed the way he stood near, and she felt his eyes on her even when she was with another. He knew better than any the way wine affected her, and she had been soothed well enough that she would not do something foolish. But even his ever constant eye had not kept her evening from a sour moment. Fleetingly, and impulsively, the woman frowned at the very thought of that foul man asking her to dance. He had gone to all women, or so it seemed to that little woman, seeking dances when their escorts were tending to the Princess. Faeldor had not even noticed she had been swept away by Durion. But it was the words that passed from his wretched mouth that had put the only dark blot upon her evening.

Faeldor had not inquired—and it was well, for with the way the wine had worked its way through her she certainly would have told all. Such a place was not fit for such discussions.

He changed the subject though, with the way he changed his hold upon her and kissed her hair. Little Gilwen’s thoughts darted away from Durion quickly and she felt a giggle rise within her, though kept the girlish display at a mere smile. “Well, my Starlight, shall we stroll toward my gardens before I take you home? The moon is new and I would enjoy some minutes with just you. It has been quite some time since we have had a chance to just sit together.”

“Yes, I would like that.” She chimed eagerly, looking up to him for a moment, for a moment nuzzling into his shoulder contentedly. She was quite eager to sit with him alone for some time. She could not help but feel the little surge of jealousy when she had seen him dancing with the fair Princess, though did well to keep her tongue bridled. He had seemed somewhat interested by her, and Gilwen was eager to not have such distractions—even if she knew Faeldor was true to her in her own heart. “Your garden must be lovely. Your house is so lovely.” Gilwen seemed to skip through a very liquid train of thought and then looked up to him brightly. “I cannot wait to see the flowers!”

[Faeldor]

“I am glad you enjoyed the wine. It was quite worth it. And you do not seem so drunk this time,” he teased slightly, expecting a pretty reaction from the woman. He was in bright spirits, and even if he had attempted to restrain his own words, it would have made no use, for moments later he would likely have said something else to get him in trouble.

“It is a lovely garden,” Faeldor said, slowing his walk as little Gilwen leaned against him. “My mother selected the flowers for it. She and Father gathered them right from that little glade that we enjoyed together near the river.”

The man was silent for a moment, contemplating whether to continue his thought out loud. Gilwen was in a lovely mood, after all, and was not likely to take it the wrong way and dampen her own spirits. “I should think… that when I have my own home, my wife and I will do the same. We will plant a wonderful garden together. And I will come home from a day’s work at the stables, and there will be my Starflower in a white gown waiting for me…” His fingers traced her side, and he wished he could draw her nearer; but any closer and he would be altogether carrying her. The man contended with pressing her against his side as they went, and he led the way through the courtyard.

“Did you enjoy your first ball then, my lovely?” he asked. Indeed, her smile had near never left her the entire evening. It was a blessed thing to see, after all the difficult days she had had, that she could have a restful and joyous day and evening. “I think you had the loveliest gown of the whole room. Everyone was surely jealous that I brought such a pretty lady in with me. I was lucky to have as many dances as I did with you, with all those men asking after you.” Truthfully, Faeldor had been just a bit jealous of the others, though he knew deeply that Gilwen was merely dancing; and that was what had made him pleased. The wine had helped her in more than one way, it was certain, for it seemed that it was much easier for the little woman to look all those noblemen in the eye and dance with them than it was if she would have been in her usual servant’s mentality.

She had done fine. She looked fine. Faeldor stopped her in the middle of the courtyard, and tilted her head upwards to kiss her in a way that he had been wishing too since before they had even entered the ball.

[Gilwen]

His bold statement over her drunkenness had been shrugged off; Gilwen was in far too good a mood and a bit over the edge. Just enough so she was not offended by the words, though her quietness settled upon her for some moments. It was all well, though, for her eyes sparkled and her face displayed well that she was not offended. Oh, had she been completely without wine she would have been dreadfully embarrassed. But as it were, she thought nothing of the comment.

“It is a lovely garden, my mother selected the flowers for it. She and Father gathered them right from that little glade that we enjoyed together near the river.”

The feelings that washed over her in that moment were seemingly opposite. An overwhelming sorrow and hurt overtook her heart, though with it was a highly pleasant memory. Her doe-eyes looked up at the man immediately, and it was apparent that she was judging his emotions. Even through the wine she had taken this evening, Gilwen’s mothering instinct was quite strong in her. She was not too far gone so as to not understand that Faeldor could indeed be hurt, or not to try and soothe him if he was so. “Then the flowers will be beautiful,” Gilwen finally said slowly, her brown eyes still studying him. His eyes did not seem terribly distraught, though fleetingly she wondered if it was simply because he was adept at hiding such pain.

“I should think… that when I have my own home, my wife and I will do the same. We will plant a wonderful garden together. And I will come home from a day’s work at the stables, and there will be my Starflower in a white gown waiting for me…”

Blessed wine and subject changes! Immediately Gilwen was steered from any thought of sorrow or sadness for Faeldor and his family, right toward a thought that made her giggle girlishly. His fingers traced down her side, and immediately her little smile was alight as bright as the stars themselves as she looked up at him. Oh, start their own garden! How lovely the idea was! Without a falter in her smile, though, she stated plainly and without reservation. “I should like that. Though, I have never had a garden of my own to care for.” She was too poor for such extra spending. My, that had been quite frank indeed! For a moment Gilwen’s natural personality caused her hesitation, though it was quick that the wine took over once more. She didn’t want to talk about finances; the subject was sore as of late.

He asked if she had enjoyed the ball. Her smile went even brighter. “It was lovely!” She exclaimed excitedly. “And a surprise. I must confess I thought you were going to leave me alone this evening when I saw you at the stables with Beleth. It did look as if you had changed your mind.” She looked up at him for a moment again.

“I think you had the loveliest gown of the whole room. Everyone was surely jealous that I brought such a pretty lady in with me.”

She grinned sheepishly for a moment, though did not stay silent. “Not as jealous as they were of me. There was no finer man in the room.” Oh, such bold statements! Gilwen’s mind could not seem to catch itself this evening. Oh, dreadful wine.

Well, Rosiel certainly had been. And that moment when she had stolen her dear Faeldor for a dance; well, it was quite plain how greatly she desired his affections. And she could have attested to a few other eyes on him as well. He was handsome, after all, and very graceful and genteel. Nothing about him was undesirable. Oh, Gilwen was working her little wine-filled self into quite a state thinking on the stable master in such a way. And then! Oh, and then he stopped her and kissed her!

She could not help it. Impulsively she held herself close and raised a hand to cup the back of his neck. Were there people around? Surely others were on their way home as well. All had to pass through the courtyard to leave. But frighteningly, it did nothing to still Gilwen’s motions as they were. Though, even with her self muddled and lost, she still blushed heartily upon her release. “I hope you enjoyed your birthday evening as well,” she said softly.

[Faeldor]

“The flowers are wonderful, yes, and yours will be just the same. You will learn how to care for them, it is certain. I think that women are quite inwardly talented with such things. You will learn a few things yet…” the man smiled. He needed her to know how to do something other than clean. Of course he imagined that they would have a spotless home; but dear Gilwen would have time for other things.

She would no longer be a servant. That was quite certain. Maybe a servant to her husband, and a servant to her family; but not a servant scrubbing floors in the palace. When they were wed, her hands would no longer bleed with her work.

“There was no finer man in the room.” The Stable Master could not help but chuckle at her words. It was evident that Gilwen spoke her true mind, and he had seen the slight look of jealously in her eyes, and the way that she had reclaimed him after he had danced with both Rosiel and the Princess Miroesa. It made him proud to think that his little Gilwen had a twinge of jealousy for those other women. Not that he had eyes for either of them; he was a devoted man, after all.

Rosiel was never ceasing in her behavior. He thought that she would attempt to kiss him right there on the dance floor; and thank the Valar she did not, for what rumors could have sprung from such an action? Any other women that had had eyes for the Stable Master this evening had surely desisted as so as they saw him with Gilwen. His intentions for her were quite obvious to any who wondered, it was certain.

The Stable Master laughed after their kiss; in such a joyous mood he was. Gilwen’s warm hand was welcome on the back of his neck, and he stayed in place for a moment as if to feel it there longer. Then he grasped her little hand and kissed it, before returning the lady to his side and walking with her once more. “Yes, my birthday was quite fine. This day was perfect.” The only thing that will improve my evening is when I take you to my garden and kiss you again. The man’s thoughts were simple and sincere, and he led her from the courtyard.

[Gilwen]

“The flowers are wonderful, yes, and yours will be just the same. You will learn how to care for them, it is certain. I think that women are quite inwardly talented with such things. You will learn a few things yet…”

Gilwen smiled pleasantly up at him. “I will certainly try my hardest.” She agreed gently. She mused over the fact that she could learn such skills. It was disappointing to her to know she would have to learn them at her age. She fleetingly worried over the prospect of marriage; Faeldor had grown up in a home where the best baker in all of Minas Tirith tended to his meals, where a garden was always well cared for by her gentle hands. Where none were shocked into silence at a young age. My, did it seem a bit daunting now! All Gilwen knew well that was useful in a home of her own was cleaning, and for such a thing he was troubled. What would Faeldor do for food when they were finally wed? Would he starve until she had learned how to do it well enough? Oh, she would have to learn from Meleth, but she was unsure how the woman thought of her now. Indeed she had only heard from Faeldor her mood and not seen it herself. Still, she forced the thoughts from her mind.

You have a while yet, she told herself, half relieved and half distraught over the words. Oh, she simply wanted to be his forever and for others to know it. And for the rumors to stop! But they had much time, she imagined, before any wedding would come.

Gilwen, in her years of servitude in the palace, had learned patience well. She smiled up at him once more, her mind once more recognizing the loveliness of the moment she was in. He would not leave her. Even if they were never allowed to wed, she imagined they would stay faithful to one another. She hoped that such a trial would not face them, though. She still desired children with his beautiful grey eyes.

He laughed as their kiss ended, and Gilwen felt him take her hand and kiss it, and they once more started along their way. “Yes, my birthday was quite fine. This day was perfect.” Gilwen beamed at such a statement. Oh, he deserved every happiness! She looked up to him, though with a slight bit of curiosity. “Fael, what did you do for your birthday?” She asked sweetly. She had not heard of how he had spent his day with his family. She tried to imagine all the house in a pleasant mood and partaking of some activity. Perhaps singing and dancing. Oh! And they might have had company! She had not met any of Faeldor’s friends, though. So she did not know of any faces that could have attended, so she filled the seats—in her mind—with stable hands. Surely his workplace was full of friends!

She mused that such a question would keep her beloved prattling until they reached his doorstep. And, she greatly wished to hear it.

[Faeldor]

“We went for a walk; the whole lot of us,” Faeldor smiled. Meleth and Miriel had taken the day off of work as well. It was tradition, to spend the day as such. The family could not all be available everytime there was a birthday in the household; but Faeldor was the oldest, and thus given the privilege of his day being quite special. “Even Grandmother and Grandfather. Albeit, it was a slow walk, but everyone came. We went out on the Pelennor; not far from the city at all, but far enough that everyone got a bit of fresh air, and the girls picked flowers; then we took them to my Father’s memorial.”

“We do the same every year on this day. Because we might all be together. A few days from now; well, that’s when it happened. It will be eight years. And Haliel’s eighth birthday,” he smiled. “We make it a happy day for her.” Faeldor was silent for a few moments in contemplation. His mother cried every year when they went; as did Miriel, but usually it was tears shed and a few happy memories told; and they moved on. The Stable Master comforted himself with the warmth of the woman by his side, pressing his cheek against her hair for a moment while they walked.

“When we made it home we had a late meal, and I’ll admit I may have had some wine earlier today already. Grandfather started the ball early, out in the gardens, and we did sing and dance throughout the afternoon while he made the music.” All his talking had brought the man past the stables, and right to his doorstep. He had not mentioned to Gilwen that he meant to take her inside. Of course Meleth wished to see her dressed in her gown. He considered the fact that Gilwen would have protested entering, and decided to just take her right on up, talking all the way to occupy her until he opened the door. “We’ll just go through this way,” he smiled.

“Mother,” Faeldor announced his entry by calling the woman forth.

“Oh, Fael, you are home,” Meleth preened over her eldest son as she made her way into the room. She had been sitting by the fireside with her mother and father. Tinuves had since gone to bed, but the other two were still well awake and waiting for the youths to return home. “Oh, Darling, look at you,” Meleth said, her eyes alight at the sight of Gilwen. “Faeldor has been speaking all day of taking you out tonight. I thought he was being nonsensical in his rambling of the dress he had ordered, but he is quite right. It is elegant. Oh, you two are a handsome match.” She stopped a few feet away for a brief moment to admire them together. The way Faeldor stood with his arm at the lady’s waist. Oh! Just look at them.

Meleth’s hands clasped over her chest as she went forward to greet her son with a kiss. “Now keep your voices low; Miriel was not feeling well and went right to bed when she came home. Pity that her evening was spoiled,” the young woman frowned slightly. “But at least she will give you no trouble,” she looked to Gilwen knowingly, then continued, not dwelling on the matter. They had had a lovely evening! There was no use in bringing foul matters to the table. “Come! My father would adore to see you, Gilwen.” Then the mother turned about and led the way down toward the sitting room.

“Now, where is your sister?” Meleth had stopped to ask Faeldor. The Stable Master’s eyebrows raised at the question. He and Gilwen had been out rather late, and Beleth and Calon had left the ball… well, it must have been a couple hours ago now. “She is… well, with her escort.” Faeldor tried not to sound uneasy with his answer, though he indeed was. What had Calon done with his sister? He did not wish to tell his mother that the two of them had left the place hours ago.

“An escort!” Meleth turned sharply, quite surprised, and almost bumped into her son. Her young and rambunctious daughter had been escorted by a man? She was not certain whether to be fearful or joyful. Oh, Narbeleth was a sensible girl, but she was young.

“Yes…” Faeldor said slowly. “One of my stablehands did take her tonight.” His response was short. He would have to speak to Calon about this. He had requested the young man to take Narbeleth to the dance. Not to entertain her elsewhere for the evening. He mused over the fact that he did not know Calon near well enough to allow such a thing, and he only hoped that Narbeleth had kept her senses in tact.

[Gilwen]

“We went for a walk; the whole lot of us.”

Gilwen smiled pleasantly as the man began to speak to her on the events of the day. A walk sounded nice indeed. And everyone was there! Oh, that was so many people! Gilwen wondered at it for a moment. Her birthdays were not celebrated anymore. They had not been for quite some time. Papa had always been working, Mama trying to find a position to hold as well. The last time they had sat together for a celebration of that sort was when she was fourteen; the year before she had begun working in the palace. After that, she was working for her own birthday. But Gilwen had been contented to be able to have a roof over her head and know that another year had passed—that nothing foul had occurred or otherwise. The very idea that a family so large had taken days off of work and trekked all the way out to the Pelennor! Oh, it brought her a great joy.

Faeldor mentioned going to his father’s memorial, and her smile instantly faded, and her brown eyes looked up at him. Her heart felt heavy for him. She had not realized that the day was so near. With both hands she reached across him and grasped his free hand firmly, and as he spoke of making it a pleasant day, she caressed it slowly. She felt him lean against her hair, and the woman wondered if he was distressed. She would understand if he were; nothing could have convinced her that it made him weak. She squeezed his hand once again and then released it.

“And I’ll admit I may have had some wine earlier today already.”

They had passed the stables, and Gilwen looked over her shoulder quickly. What of her clothes? They strewn all about his quarters! But the statement he made turned her mind quite far away from them indeed. The little woman seemed to lose a shade to her cheeks and she looked up to him. “Fael! How much wine have you had?” He had only had one glass with her; but if he had already consumed some, well…perhaps this was more dangerous than she realized. Still, he had not done anything outwardly bold or impulsive with her. But she was sure it was because there was a crowd of people around.

“We’ll just go through this way.”

The woman tried to dig her heels firmly into the ground at such a statement and her eyes looked up to him with a dreadful plead against it, but he was strong, and had his arm about her waist quite nicely. It was only a moment before she was inside. “Fael, I do not think this is a good idea,” she said quietly, but nonetheless he was driven to keep escorting her.

“Mother.”

“Oh, Fael, you are home.”

Gracious Eru! Was he mad? She did not have time to scold him or try to persuade him further, and instead had to hide the look of worry and alarm on her face as Meleth entered. “Oh, Darling, look at you.”

Gilwen forced herself to smile, for all of the worry she held within her toward this woman. Her heart had certainly quickened for a sudden fear of rejection or scolding. Or perhaps she imagined that she would be just as brash as her own father had been some days ago. A light color came to her cheeks as she told her that Faeldor and she made a handsome match. Though, it pleased her immensely.

“Come! My father would adore to see you, Gilwen.”

She beamed at the thought of Faeldor’s grandfather. Such a nice man! Oh, she prayed her reputation was not ruined with him.

They received direction for keeping voices low, and Gilwen frowned concernedly. Poor Miriel had had quite a horrid night! It seemed a bit unfair that she was not feeling so well on such a night. It had been a fine one, indeed.

But apparently that was not the only sister who had Meleth worried. Beleth had not returned yet? Why, she had left the ball long before Faeldor and herself! She could feel Faeldor tense against her, though he spoke well enough to his mother. As Meleth led the way and had them out of sight, Gilwen once more reached for and grabbed his hand for a moment and looked up to him. It is fine. She thought toward him. Beleth was a smart girl and would not do anything foolish.

They were in the sitting room now, and Gilwen released her hold on him quickly before anybody saw what she had done. Melanir needed to see her intentions were sound; being too compromising would do nothing. Her smile returned though, for there the man was! He seemed quite contented, sitting there by the fire. She would not approach him though, for she did not wish to offend him. He had certainly heard those dreadful tales of her promiscuity, however unfounded.

[Faeldor]

“Fael! How much wine have you had?”


The Stable Master laughed. “Not enough to register such concern!” he exclaimed lightly. “I do promise I will keep to my senses well enough. The silk should not be too slippery this evening,” he promised. Indeed; the night that his lady had come upon him in the tavern, he had been consuming drinks far heavier than wine, for the sake of dulling his senses. He had been quite gone, it was true. She was perfectly safe with the Stable Master this instant though. No fears requited.

Oh, she did pull at him and drag her feet as they came upon his doorstep; it was as if she would refuse to enter his own home; yet at the same time she said nothing more to make him think otherwise that they should not. After all, Faeldor was escorting someone who he deemed quite lovely, and he would like to show her off.

Meleth’s reaction had seemingly pleased the lady in her nervousness, and Gilwen had once more changed her attitude as the man spoke, and she seemed to try and comfort him more than he was comforting her. She could obviously tell by his voice that he held concern for Beleth, and her little hand was over his to comfort him. He calmed slightly. Beleth was a smart young woman; and she could hold her own very well. He had seen such attitude earlier this even when she had stomped on foul Durion’s foot. Oh, not many had missed the event. He smiled proudly at the thought, though inwardly hoped that the Steward and Captains had not seen such. My, but his sister was impulsive.

“Grandfather, look who I have here,” Faeldor said happily as they came into the room and approached the man’s chair. He would not release Gilwen from the gentle hold he had on her waist for anything, and stepped forward with her. She seemed to have grown more nervous since they had started into the room, and had dropped the comforting hold she had on his hand.

“You young ones have had fun tonight; I can tell by your voice.” Melanir spoke to his grandson. Faeldor had brought the young lady close to him, within his line of vision, and the Grandfather took her hand to kiss it. It had been a few days over a month since he had last seen her. Since he had first seen her, actually.

Meleth could barely take her eyes off of her son, and the way he stood with Gilwen. Oh, he did remind her of Faelon! Her husband had held the same gentle demeanour and protectiveness over her. Oh, her mind was lost for some moments as she made her way back to the chair near her Father’s and moved her mending aside to sit. They would sit together by the sea, and oh, the songs he would sing to her. A wetness came to the mother’s eyes, at the thought; after having gone to visit the memorial today; Faelon was fresh on her mind.

“We did enjoy our time,” Faeldor said; having become already used to answering for his quiet lady. He could not help but tilt his head to kiss Gilwen’s temple. Meleth’s heart almost melted at the sight, and she quickly wiped her eyes; that her son should not notice and become concerned for her.

“She looks like the moonlight in such a gown,” Melanir smiled at the woman. “Pity that TInuves has gone to bed; she would have loved to see such. You love her well, Faeldor. I hope she knows it,” Melanir’s eyes moved back to the young lady, that he might see her expression. Then, the man cast his judgement; perhaps different to that what Gilwen would have thought. Entirely the opposite, in fact. Of course he had heard all sides of the story; Miriel’s accusations, and the rumors that Meleth had heard at work. But nonetheless, Faeldor’s words he deemed sincere. The boy had never been one to tell anything but the truth. “You have struggled,” the man said, looking at the young lady. “And I am sorry that such things have happened to you. But he is a good man, and I am proud of him. It would have been easy for our Faeldor to step away unscathed by all of this. But he has stayed, because he knows that you are faithful to him. He knows you better than us, but I deem that you are a gentle and well deserving lady.”

The man looked up at the two, and thought of how proud he was of his grandson at this instant. Faeldor was quite surprised by his grandfather’s statement, though the words he had said were ever true. Gilwen was dear to him; and his heart told him that she would always be faithful. He pressed her more tightly against his side.

[Gilwen]

Gilwen’s little heart was beating in a great flurry of nerves. Melanir had been so accepting of her the time she had met him previous; if he had changed his opinion on her she was quite certain that her spirit would be utterly crushed and left in pieces. She almost held her breath as Faeldor presented her toward him, though she felt quite protected the way that he held her so near. Surely he would not do such a thing if he did not think that his grandfather would accept her again.

Melanir’s voice exclaimed quite happily that it sounded as if she and Faeldor had had a pleasant evening. With the wine he had given her in her stomach, the woman well began to answer, but Faeldor did answer much more quickly; he was one to speak without hesitation for it was his natural personality to answer when spoken to. Gilwen was used to answering, but rarely with her voice.

His grandfather’s hand took her own and kissed it, and Gilwen began to ease a bit. That had been how he had greeted her; the very same way that Faeldor had done before that. This man could not think her a harlot or dirty; he never would have dared touch her if this were the case. He was endearing, old Melanir and the woman smiled brightly at him and dipped her head slightly in greeting.

She felt a bristled kiss pressed to her temple, and the little lady felt a pinkness come to her cheeks. He had assured her that he had not overindulged this evening, but it surely seemed as if he had—his family was wrestling with rumors and accusations of her impurity and harlotry. Though, she did love to be kissed by him, and even with the little wine she had consumed, Gilwen felt such a fact outweigh all worry. It was lucky that Melanir and Meleth were in the room, or Gilwen might have fallen to an impulse to press herself closer and kiss him in return.

“She looks like the moonlight in such a gown.”

Gilwen smiled softly, and let her brown eyes flash up at her Faeldor for a quick moment. Such a compliment it was! She hoped that in her small glance it relayed her utter thankfulness to him; she would never have been able to dream of owning such a gown as this. As she turned her eyes back to Melanir, she caught part of Meleth’s gaze. She seemed to be lost in some sort of memory, and by the events she had been told of by her Stable Master, it was entirely fathomable. Gilwen did not wish to intrude upon such a moment and instead turned her eyes back to the elderly man before her.

“You love her well, Faeldor. I hope she knows it.”

“I do know it, my Lord.” Gilwen answered slowly. She was not sure from where the words came, for indeed her expression had been enough to relay her adoration and love for the one beside her, and for a moment she had surprised herself. She did know he loved her. And it was something she would not ever be able to forget; and she hoped the same about him.

“You have struggled.”
This statement startled Gilwen a slight, and she felt her expression change in the smallest way, but she listened carefully to the rest of Melanir’s words. By the Valar! He did not think her a harlot! Gilwen’s heart eased, enough to bring a bit of glistening wetness to her eyes for relief, but the tears did not fall.

“It would have been easy for our Faeldor to step away unscathed by all of this. But he has stayed, because he knows that you are faithful to him.”

Gilwen looked up to the tall man for a moment in thought. It would have been terribly simple for him to leave her behind—his reputation would have been untouched, and certainly he could have found himself someone else to take an interest in. Many a woman had eyes for him. She felt her heart warm with the thought that he had stayed. She would have understood if he had saved his family’s name—he was, after all, a man that put his family before all others. However happy she was that he had not gone, though! That she could stand here, this night, and look upon him, dance with him and let him kiss her! She was pressed into his side a bit more, if such was possible. He was so warm, and she could feel his strength—and with an inward smile to herself, she turned her brown eyes back to Melanir. “I assure you, my Lord. I would do nothing to disgrace your family—or my own.” If only Papa would understand.

Was it the wine that had made such a bold statement come forth? Or the sheer comfort and protection she felt pressed so close against Faeldor? Whichever fueled such an exclamation and quiet assurance did not keep the gentle blush from returning to her cheeks. She had been ever so worried his family would despise her now. At least Melanir seemed to think her chaste; Meleth, if she didn’t, hid such unease and distress well.

[Faeldor]

“You are a fine girl,” Melanir mused after Gilwen had answered him. “And lovely in that dress,” he repeated himself.

The entire room was quiet for some moments; with just the fire crackling before them. Melanir studied the young couple, and Meleth did the same. Faeldor stood comfortably with the woman at his side; glad that his grandfather had spoken such kind words to Gilwen. They would surely reassure her. Finally, Faeldor spoke. “I was about to show Gilwen the gardens before I take her home. She has not yet seen them.”

“Do show her then,” Melanir smiled, giving Faeldor his excusal. Faeldor nodded to his grandfather, and looked down to Gilwen for a moment.

“I’ll leave the lantern burning in front for your return,” Meleth said, giving Faeldor her permission to take his Gilwen to the gardens as well. She was quite shaken this moment from her previous thoughts still, and Faeldor did sense it, but said nothing. On his way out, he loosened his grasp on Gilwen for the moment, and leaned to kiss his mother upon the cheek. “Goodnight,” he told her softly, his voice warm.

“Goodnight, dear,” she replied, grasping his hand gently.

With that, Faeldor nodded once more to his grandfather, and then took his leave, Gilwen once more tightly at his side as they went down the hall. “You do radiate of moonlight... and Starlight…” he told her gently, running his hand along the silken gown once more, before opening the door that led into the back gardens, and drawing her out on the steps with him.

“Here we are, beautiful.” He drew her down the steps to the walk. Many of the flowers had closed for the night, but some shone pleasantly open still in the dim light.

Indoors, Meleth sat quietly in her chair for some moments after the two had left, but then rose and went toward her father’s chair. Melanir sensed her sorrowful stance, and moved slightly to the side in the large chair. “Come here; sit close to me, Meleth,” he said to her, and the woman found herself moving into the chair next to her father. She pressed her head against his shoulder, as he placed an arm about her.

“I miss Faelon so,” she finally said, her voice heavy, and her shoulders trembling slightly.

“I know, dear,” Melanir soothed. “Faeldor reminds you of him, does he not?”

“Mhm,” Meleth answered shortly, cuddling against her father. It was not often that she displayed such weakness in front of him; but he was always willing to comfort her. No matter her years.

After many minutes had passed, Melanir spoke once more. “You should sleep. It has been a long day.” Meleth did not stir from her father. “I will wait up for my granddaughter. You know she is a night bird, but she is sensible.” Melanir’s voice was calm. At that, Meleth’s shoulders slumped in weariness, and she agreed, kissing her father on the cheek, and rising for bed.

[Gilwen]

Gilwen blushed lightly upon hearing Melanir’s words. She had not been complimented this much in a single night ever before. Though, she had never worn anything so beautiful, either. “Thank you, my lord.” It was all the words she could find at that moment, and she was pleased immensely that the wine she had consumed did not bring her to say something foolish—however, if she stood there much longer, she was certain something would happen to slip from her tongue and embarrass her greatly. So it was with a great relief that she and Faeldor left the room; though she was half tempted to wriggle her self free from her Horse Master to let him sit with his mother—her eyes looked ever so sorrowful.

Still, once he had led her out back her thoughts shifted entirely to him. “Here we are, beautiful.” She looked up to him, and then over the area. Oh, it was lovely! She gasped delightedly as her brown eyes glided over everything eagerly. “Oh, Fael!”

Some of the flowers were still open in bloom, catching the moonlight and the starlight as if mirrors made up their petals. And the ones that closed looked lovely themselves! All of this was within the walls of a garden! Oh, how entirely lovely!

She had never stood in a true garden before—she had passed the palace one a few times, but she had never dared venture in. Her own home was gardenless; but how lovely they were! She looked up to Faeldor with large brown eyes and smiled. “Your garden is lovely.”

She giggled quietly and added, “If I could find a way to work—“ She faltered, and her thoughts turned to Durion. If she could find a way to work for better pay, she would try and get a garden of her own, or at least a few flowers to tend to. Well, she had that opportunity. Perhaps she shouldn’t say such things aloud. Gilwen looked away again, back over the lovely grassy area and sighed.

She never would have let such a slip occur had she not taken any wine. Unfortunately, Faeldor had given her a glass—however diluted it had been enough to ease her tongue somewhat.

She did, however, try to avert attention to her slip-up. “You certainly must sit out here often when you get the chance.” She smiled. “I would certainly read in a place such as this if I had the chance to.”

[Faeldor]

“If I could find a way to work—“ Despite Gilwen’s gleeful exclamations of the lovliness of his garden, he had not missed her interjection and the way she stopped herself. “Oh, Gilwen, I think you work enough as is…” he guessed at her statement. There were far too many things for little Gilwen to do than work more, that she might have a garden. He thought for a moment; had she even a space for a garden at her own home? The homes on the third tier were packed quite closely together, and though he had only entered her house once, he did not imagine that they had a back exit.

He sighed; the woman worked far too much as it was. Soon as he wed her, he would not allow such. For now, she would not listen to him on the matter. He could provide for her and her own family well enough already, but she would not allow it for the sake of her own pride. Faeldor wondered for a moment, if he had been in her situation, what would he have done? He knew that his stubbornness would have kept him from wanting to accept such an offer as well. Though, perhaps for the sake of his young siblings, he would have done so. Gilwen had no siblings though; just her mother and father.

However, she tried to change the attention to something else, and though Faeldor had not forgotten the things she had said previously, he answered. “I do read out here, though often times I just sit. Alone. Or with the family. Beleth and I talk here. Or I play with the children. I help mother with the flowers. There are many uses of a garden.” The man smiled as he spoke. He was surprised at Gilwen’s statement of wishing to read out here. He knew, by all means, that the woman was not illiterate, though he had not thought that she had enjoyed reading. She never spoke of it, after all, though it could be for lack of access to books. He would remember such a statement though, and ask his sisters if mother if perhaps they had a book that Gilwen would be interested in. If she ever had the time to read anyway; that was. He thought back again to her previous statements on work, and his mind trailed to the fact that the lovely maiden would have to rise so early for work again in the morning. He sighed.

“Come here, sweet one, let us sit down on a bench to rest for awhile. All that dancing has made me weary,” he said, leading Gilwen down along a short path to the stone bench that sat near a patch of lilies. They were open white, and translucent in appearance under the dim moonlight. Faeldor sat, and carefully pulled Gilwen down beside him.

[Gilwen]

“Oh, Gilwen, I think you work enough as is…”

She looked up at him for a moment and said nothing, indeed she did work enough. Tonight was a blessing, come tomorrow she would be slaving away again. Such sour thoughts! The lady quickly attempted to work them from her mind, and listened instead to the Stable Master’s voice as he explained what he did out among the flowers. She could not answer though, for her thoughts turned once more to the prospect of work.

She did not wish to return to the palace come the morning. She would rather be at home for a day of rest. Oh, but she did not have such a luxury. The very thought made her feel weary and exhausted. “Come here, sweet one, let us sit down on a bench to rest for awhile. All that dancing has made me weary.” She was very thankful and willing to follow him, and as he pulled her down next to him, she smiled.

From the bench she looked over the garden once more. Her face reflected the pensive and thoughtful nature that had overtaken her. If she could find a job that gifted her more money—and by luck such a thing had come to her—she could gift her parents nice things and help her mother care for a garden as well. She frowned a moment, and without looking at her stable master she asked quietly, “If you could provide for your family better by taking a position you know in your heart you would detest every moment of it…would you?”

The offer had been given to her that very evening. A household position that would pay her a little less than double what she was earning then. Was it wrong to hesitate in accepting it? But wasn’t it equally as wrong to take it, knowing that she would be taken advantage of?

Her silence had been a bit thick, for it having been so short a time. She looked to Faeldor, unable to not explain. “I was offered a position that could pay me well.” Gilwen began. Her eyes did not display pleasure though, despite the wonderful news. “But I am afraid to take it.” Her voice faltered a slight, and the wine pressed her further into speech. “I could help my family, Fael. But working for that man, that Durion…I cannot tell if it is right for me to take it.”

[Faeldor]

“If you could provide for your family better by taking a position you know in your heart you would detest every moment of it…would you?” Faeldor narrowed his eyes slightly, as he turned to look back at Gilwen. Had she been offered another position? And was it one that would be more detestable than working at scrubbing the stone floors of the palace?

Faeldor thought to answer for a moment, though it seemed that before he had been given enough time for thought, she was speaking once more. Her eyes seemed either upset or disgusted as she continued. And when he heard the name ”Durion…” come from her lips, he immediately grew angry.

“So that is what he was so interested in speaking to you of!” His voice was low and upset. “It is no wonder that he would. I would not wish you to work for that man would it be only cleaning that you were doing, but he would have his pleasure with you, Gilwen.” The man paused for a moment, growing even more angry. “As he has with my sister…” Little though, did Faeldor know of the extent of the relationship between Durion and Miriel, save that he suspected that the man had used his sister as he did with every other lady. “He is no proprietous man with the women who work in his household.” The man found himself furious at Durion’s sneaking and malicious behavior.

“First he took your father’s job, and now he offers you one. Does that not make you suspicious?” His blood boiled. “You will not work for him. Who can even fathom what he would make you do…” he said disgustedly, fearing for his little Starlight and what would come of her should she move to such desperate measures. Faeldor stood up, feeling in his upset moment that he needed to pace, though he did not wish Gilwen to think that he was upset at her, so he immediately went back to the bench, laxing the tightness of his fist.

The Stable Master sat down, then moved, that he had a leg over each side of the bench. His arms reached for Gilwen as he drew her against him, and wrapped her within them. “You do not deserve such a position,” he muttered, frustrated.