Offered Hope (Gilwen)

[Miriel]

Ahava of Haradwaith
Madam of the Sarab Brothel
First Tier, Minas Tirith
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They called her Madam, and though she was already two and thirty, a woman of her age had never looked better. Ahava could easily be picked from a crowd. Against the white stone walls, and the drab garb of the commoners of the first tier, she was entirely elegant. Her dress was low cut; a light blue fabric, and her shawl a pale green. The belt at her waist was a long loop of silver coins that glistened and rang softly with each step. The woman’s ears were pierced, and from them hung ornate hoops. Ahava was obviously not a pureblooded Gondorian, for so her name suggested, as well as her appearance, that she was of Haradwaith. Her painted lips did not hide the darker color of her skin; and even her voice held a slight accent that was unfamiliar in those of pure Gondorian blood. If that did not give it away; her gown was made in the style of her culture. Men liked when their women did look so exotic.

She had not always lived and worked in this city; but there were far too many threats on the Southern border of Gondor these days to keep her safe at her family home along the banks of the Anduin. The traffic there was all but lively. Her father was a man of Gondor, but her mother, a Lady of the Harad. And a stunning lady at that. Much to Ahava’s displeasure though; her father was no gentleman. As she grew alongside her brothers and sisters, it came to the eye of Ahava that he was quite wicked in his dealings of trade with that of Gondor. As Ahava grew older, her father set her as well into the business. When she had turned thirteen, he had given her to her first customer, and threatened her to do as she was told. Ahava was afraid of her father, and though her first years in the business were wrought in the anguish of her heart, she effectively did as she was told, for fear of what he would do to her if she did not.

Ahava though was behind those days. She had learned well enough the trade that he father had taught her, and one day she snuck away. It had been a time before she made herself known in the city of Minas Tirith, for fear that her father would have learned of her whereabouts. Ahava starved on the streets for sometime, and as much as begged to stay alive. Nobody in this noble city was willing to help a woman such as herself. She was soiled from the beginning, and though she was lovely in appearance, the ever terse ties between Gondor and Haradwaith did little to give her assistance. People looked upon her black hair and dark skin and knew she was of the Southern blood, and thus, worthless as an asset to their own people. Only the fate of death brought her back to her original business.

She had spent her nights working, and eventually earned herself a room in a tavern, though the catch of the fact was that the bartender had all right to her, and took a share of the profit. Disgusting creatures, men were. But it was her way of living; she knew how to do nothing else to fend for herself. After a few years, the woman had earned enough by her way of work to buy a home for herself. The women that lived with her came and went as they pleased, and while they stayed, they shared their own profits with Ahava in repose for room and board. Eventually, Ahava had left the business, for favor of running her brothel. She was enticed by the idea, for the only men that she still offered her services to were of the rich classes, in the upper tiers; who would indeed pay her well.

On word of a noble gentleman, who had shared her own bed just days prior; there was a lovely young woman that had come to live upon this tier not too long ago. Ahava had an open bed at the House, and it seemed that the disfortunate woman might need a place to stay. She hated the fact that women could so easily end up on the streets in this city. It was too dangerous here. Well, Ahava could offer her a room; as well as the luxury that came with the business; food, and lovely clothing. Safety among this tier. The first tier was not a place for any Lady to try and work on her own. It was much too dangerous for such. Upon her questioning; the nobleman willingly offered the young lady’s whereabouts. He seemed to know just where she stayed now. With family, he had said. Well, Ahava knew how it was to stay with family. They would sooner use a lady, and then take all she had and send her out. Though the lovely woman had blocked most trace of feeling and emotion out of her mind, as one had to when they lived such a life, she felt her heart grip at the fact that others were leant to the same fate as herself. Though there was no way that she could offer them a way out, for she herself could not even find a way out, she could at least offer them safety.

With this thought in mind, Ahava came to the doorstep where she had been sent, and rapped on the door. The name of the girl she was looking for was Gilwen; yes. A pretty name. She drew her face into a charming smile as she waited to meet her. She always loved to meet the new girls. If she had one purpose still working in this city; it was to offer them some form of hope and companionship, against the cruelty of the men they served.

[Gilwen]

It was her first full day there on the first tier. She had told Faeldor the day before not to seek her out to walk her to work this day for she had the day off. He must have been curious over it; it had been some time since she had recieved a full day away from work. Still, being a gentleman he had not pressed the matter further and merely expressed how terribly much he was going to miss walking her to work.

And she was not even to spend the day doing something enjoyable! No, she had awoken that morning to finally move the rest of her and her family’s belongings into a little house on the first tier. Her last home seemed a mansion for the space they had in this new dwelling place, and Gilwen could barely move about in her own bedroom. Still, she had done this all without complaint or falter in her outward mood, and had not yet told Faeldor of it either. That would be something he should learn of tomorrow at the stables. She would go to him on a break and inform him. It would have done no good to speak to him on it sooner. He would have merely desired to pay for their home, or give them one better than on the first tier, or be angry and upset. None of which Gilwen would allow. It was not something he should have to deal with yet; and perhaps by seeing the finality of it, he would not be too angered once he heard of it.

She had begun unpacking and setting things in their rightful place in their new house, a tiring and disheartening task. They had really lost their home! This seemed so unreal. It was just a few nights ago Faeldor had dropped her off at the doorstep of the little house on the third tier after the ball. And now? Now she had so little room, that even the few things she owned made everything seem cluttered.

She was alone. That morning Niniel and Beregar had headed off to the market. Beregar would not let his wife wander the first tier alone, as was only right. It had been quite rowdy even in the few hours after the sunrise. ”Do stay off the street Gilwen.” Niniel had told her quietly before she had grabbed her basket. ”I do not wish to treat you like a child—I just…this place is not safe.” She had said such things to someone who could already see that. Yet, Niniel had insisted on venturing to the market alone herself. Beregar, though, was an insistent and protective sort and would hear none of it.

So, inside she had been all day. It was so stifling that Gilwen had cried a few moments in her new room, eyeing what had become of the family. All over a tarnished reputation! And it held no truth! She was trying to find a place to put her Mama’s kitchen things when there was a knock upon the door. In her other home, there had been a cut-away wall that had kept the sitting area and kitchen separate. Here, though, it was the same room. All Gilwen had to do was turn around to see the wooden space in the stone house. She faltered. Who could it possibly be? Mama had said to stay away from the streets, though said nothing about not answering the door.

Nervously, the little woman wrung her hands and bit her lip. Best to be hospitable. Perhaps it was a new neighbor coming to greet them and meet the family. Slowly she trekked toward the door and opened it. She was surprised by the woman on the other side of the door. She was entirely lovely, and immediately Gilwen could see the exotic look to her. Something about the way she dressed, though, seemed too lavish to be on the first tier, and the woman became a bit uneasy. All of this, though, she kept well hidden beneath her gentle features and stare. “May I help you?” She asked softly, not opening the door fully, though partly. It was indeed wild upon the streets still, and she was not used to such hustle in front of her home yet. Her eyes though, could not leave the lady. How utterly beautiful!

[Miriel]

Ahava’s waited patiently at the doorstep until finally, the door opened. The girl inside seemed quite cautious. Well who wouldn’t be, in a place such as this! Ahava though had no fear of walking down the streets; there was no danger for her here. If anyone were to touch her, and one of the locals to hear of it, they would find themselves hanged or knifed on the spot. Ahava had built up a name for herself, and her customers would at least look out for her; if nobody else did.

“Good morning,” Ahava started, a smile on her face. “My name is Ahava. Are you Gilwen?” she questioned. She seemed to be about the right age anyhow. She looked young, indeed, though Gilwen wasn’t the youngest she had seen. Well… she was not dressed for the business today, that was certain. Likely she was just collecting herself before she started.

Well, if she expected to do well in these parts, it at least wouldn’t be difficult. She had a pretty face; no scars. She was rather petite. But nobody could help their own size, she supposed. Although, she did look somewhat fearful. “Do not fear me,” she hummed softly to calm her. “I was sent here to talk to you. I will bring no harm to you,” she smiled. Her eyes were as bright as she could make them. Being a lady of her working, Ahava’s emotions had been quite stilled since she had been a child. Just coming to the door of this home gave her a brief surge of anguish, imagining the abuse growing up in the home of her own father.

[Gilwen]

“My name is Ahava. Are you Gilwen?”

The brown doe-eyes widened immediately, though subtly. She was quite unnerved, by no mistake could anyone have seen otherwise. “Y-yes.” She answered even more quiet than she had upon answering the door. The woman knew her name? How could that be? She had never seen her before; surely she would have remembered her face if she had. She realized that in her brief moment of silence she had been rather rude. This Ahava seemed her superior, indeed. She was dressed fine; indicative of the upper-class. Gilwen should be minding her manners better!

“Do not fear me, I was sent here to talk to you. I will bring no harm to you.”

Sent to talk to her? Gilwen chewed her bottom lip absently. Whoever would have sent someone to speak with her? Perhaps Beleth or Faeldor? They were the only upper-class people she took company with. It seemed entirely unlike them, though. And how would they have known where to find her? Fael had merely seen the trunks packed in their living area when he had dropped her off from the ball. That was it. Even if he had guessed they were moving, he would not have known as to where.

Still, the woman seemed friendly enough and the young lady slowly stepped aside and let the door open wider. “Do come in,” she said lowly. Little did she realize what harm this was doing to her; allowing the woman into the house. The eyes of the streets had surely not missed the way the door had shut behind the Madam. Quickly and ever so quietly, Gilwen made room upon their couch for the woman to sit. They had sold their chair; it was for the best. It would not have fit in the small sitting room area anyway. “I do not know who sent you,” Gilwen murmured cautiously. She would not outright ask for such information, though she did judge this woman was here with intent. It probably would not take long for all to be out in the open. Why was Gilwen’s heart beating so quickly? Why had she such nerves?

[Miriel]

Ahava smiled, following the young woman into the little house, her eyes flickering over the dull furnishings, though not letting her displeasure show at it. Did the father truly think that he could work his daughter out of this dingy home? Why, she would only be offered the business of the lowest class here; the drunkards coming out of their taverns at night would seek her here; but she was sure to not have anyone who would pay her properly, or treat her kindly.

And the way she had so simply opened her door! Any of those foul men could take advantage of a lady who was in a home alone. They might have pushed right past her doorstep.

She sat down upon the edge of the couch, waiting for Gilwen to sit beside her before she continued on. Her stomach boiled at the thought of the girl’s father, and she was certainly glad that he was not here. Ahava was not afraid to speak with any man, no matter their age or size; and if given the opportunity she would surely have words for him.

“I have come to make you an offer,” Ahava said plainly, her voice a lilt with her accent. “A nobleman has mentioned to me your situation and your recent move here… and I find it troublesome that a woman such as yourself should continue to go through with this. You see, I have been there; where you are now,” the woman concluded kindly; a delicate softness to her voice.

“I have a house, not far from here down the streets. It would be a safe place for you; I have hired two male guards. They let no harm come of the women. And you might have food, and your own room. There is always business… and I do not allow the men off the streets in. At times even the men of class pay visit. You will have independence. It is not good to let a man rule your life and your body. My brothel is a comfortable living.” If it had not been evident of Ahava’s business up until her last statement, it now was.

After all, was it not more respectable to run one’s own business, than to let dirty and greedy men force them to it? Ahava had no other choice, for a woman of her race, and violated as she was at young age, had no other options. No man would wish to wed her. She would not have a family. Better to live comfortable now and create enough of a backdrop for herself for the time when she would be too old for her work.

[Gilwen]

It became apparent by the way the woman looked upon her that Ahava was expecting Gilwen to sit beside her on the couch, and slowly the woman obliged. The second she was comfortably seated, the lovely lady began to speak. “I have come to make you an offer.” An offer? Gilwen grew a bit apprehensive immediately. For what?

She listened closely, her brown eyes unsure of what emotion to show. A nobleman had sent her? The first to come to her mind was her Faeldor…but he would not know of her new residency. She did not find company with many nobles of Minas Tirith. She was a servant, after all. The only two she really knew were Faeldor and Dervorin, if the latter counted truly. Or, she shuddered at the thought, Durion. But that was all behind them now. That man would not offer any more problems. Not now.

Still, the story Ahava began to weave seemed to set Gilwen a slight uneasy. She was offered a house that would be safe. Was this house not well enough? Her family would not lead her to harm. Indeed, she had never been struck by either of her parents. The descriptions continued, and slowly the woman lost the color in her cheeks as she realized what the woman was speaking of.

“It is not good to let a man rule your life and your body. My brothel is a comfortable living.”

Brothel. Gilwen’s heart sank, though flurried into a fit of fast-paced pulses. Her whorish reputation was supposed to be left behind. Had those of the bottom tiers learned of her false name as well? “Durion.” She muttered aloud, recognition and anger hidden within the word. Oh, he had to have been the noble to have spoken to this lady. Could he not simply leave her be? He had already offered her a position in his house that she had been refused. Was this his way of making sure that she reaped the consequences?

“I—“ She fell silent. What was she supposed to say. “I am sorry, my lady. I…I do believe you have been informed wrongly.” Gilwen’s voice was quite soft, though gentle still. She was still clearly unnerved by the proposal. Goodness! She had not been here but hours!

She was not a sleeper. Though, how was she to explain this? What would her father think of such a visit? Certainly her Faeldor would be enraged. She did not know what else to say, in truth. Though, her quiet nature did seem to overtake her. She should, after all, allow the woman a chance to protest the statement before she explained.

[Miriel]

“Durion.”

“I do not usually offer the names of the noblemen I treat. Some do not wish to be known as people who pay visit to a home such as mine.” Then she nodded. “But seeing as we both know him…”

Durion had never done much talking while he was with the Lady Ahava. Mostly sweet talking and praises, though there were times when he had mentioned his dislike of the horses and his work. He did not seem like a kind man in the least, and he was rather prideful, though he was much more gentle of hand than some. Ahava could not know of misdeeds that had never been spoken of to her.

“I do believe you have been informed wrongly.” Ahava shook her head. “I could not have been misinformed,” she started, “He did send me with your name, and gave his concern.” Suddenly, Ahava realized that that must be it. Perhaps Gilwen was worried; there were some women of sorts who would not be happy with such competition for their highest paying customer. She added quickly, “It does not trouble me that we serve the same clientele in the least. Do not worry; I am not in the business for competition.”

She hoped that her words were understanding enough. She would not wish for the young woman to be sent away; no that was the opposite of what she was trying to do. “You have a pretty face, you could do much better for yourself. You have not lived here before, and perhaps you do not understand. The men on the streets can be dangerous. At my House, you would be safe. It is well known, and you might continue to service the wealthier class with no trouble.”

“I would not expect Durion to enter a little apartment like this, truly. It is well to be independent, but it is better to be safe and away from those who would do you harm,” the woman’s voice was still gentle, though more urgent now. She did not understand completely why her heart felt such a pull for the young woman before her. She simply did not understand the ways of the lower city, it was certain. She was so little as well, and fragile looking. To be put into the hands of those tavern drunkards would not do her well at all.

[Gilwen]

So it had been that wretched man that had spoken to this woman. It was no wonder now that the woman had come to her! Still, Gilwen was thoroughly shocked and appalled. Had he needed to go this far? Undoubtedly the man had been restless of mind; she imagined that he would revel in such happenings. Perhaps more so in the recounting of them to others. Her cheeks paled a slight bit, but Ahava continued.

“I could not have been misinformed, he did send me with your name, and gave his concern.”

Concern! The word almost led the young lady to scoff. Durion was no more concerned for her than the Steward was concerned for the Lord Sauron. Had he been so convinicing? Gracious Eru! Gilwen’s mind seemed to speed ahead, though her face remained shocked and bewildered. Though, her shocked and hurt expression seemed merely to be read wrongly by the lovely lady before her.

“It does not trouble me that we serve the same clientele in the least.”

Gilwen tried to reply here. Oh, she served no clientele! But why could her voice not speak? Indeed, Ahava continued to, and it worked the little thing into a great state of distress. She was no harlot! Why could she not find words?

“I would not expect Durion to enter a little apartment like this, truly.”

Thank Eru for such a thing, Gilwen thought frantically before she sought to remedy this situation. “Lord Durion should have no need to enter here.” Her voice was quiet, though pointedly urgent. However was she to fix this? She had not even considered for a moment that someone would seek her here. Gilwen had been sure that the rumors would have stayed behind.

“I—“ She faltered a moment; the careful and gentle creature did not desire to insult the woman before her. “You have been misinformed,” she repeated softly. “Lord Durion thinks me a lady of such practices…but I am not.” She did not wish to use the word ‘harlot’. Not before this woman. It was a dirty word, and the last thing this Ahava seemed was dirty.

This woman hardly looked as if she was going to believe her, though. The way she trusted so fully Durion’s words! Did she know nothing of his true nature? Perhaps not. Indeed, if he only sought her for personal satisfaction, it was quite possible he had hidden his twisted and darkened soul well enough.

Her hands clutched at her skirts fervently, and the woman was quite stiff in her shoulders. She had never thought such a circumstance would befall her! Whatever was she going to say to her father now? She had been offered a home in a brothel! Oh, Faeldor would be upset as well.

“I am sorry,” she whispered.

Oh, that they would never find out!

[Miriel]

“Lord Durion should have no need to enter here.”

“Well, no, he should not,” Ahava repeated, glumly looking about the interior of the woman’s home. Goodness, and boxes still scattered about. Durion would certainly not come to a place such as this for his services. Whatever her father thought when he had moved them to this home… well, he would certainly not ask for upper class business of his daughter. All she would have here were the drunken fools from the taverns, who were not only rough and uncleanly, but at times aggressive toward women of the business.

“You have been misinformed. Lord Durion thinks me a lady of such practices…but I am not.”

Ahava’s face did not flinch, though she inwardly frowned. Why would someone misinform her about such a thing? Durion hardly spoke anything to her other than his fleshy desires, and praises of her beauty and skill, yet that was what all the men who came to her spoke of. None were there for business; that was what most sought to forget while they were in her presence.

“Oh, I had thought you one of his customers.” She seemed for a moment at a loss for words. Her fluidity vanished for a second, and she did speak quickly, “I do not ask; of course…” One in her business did not ask, nor tell! And if this Gilwen were truly not a lady of her practices, she would not wish her to spread word that the well spoken of and sought after Ahava was one to gossip of her customers. “But he seemed to make it quite clear that he had interest in you… at least, he spoke of you as well sought after. You are Lady Gilwen, you have said so…”

The woman was indeed confused, and her face showed it. She did not even hear the whispered apology. However, her thoughts turned to a different matter, and she looked about her quickly; as if perhaps someone else were here to overhear them. “Is he home then?” she whispered, leaning nearer the young woman. It was her father she was referring to, Gilwen was sure to know. “I know he would threaten… they always do. My father was the same. But you must believe me, it was much better when I found my escape from that home. My home is a safe place for you…” she repeated, a bit nervously.

Ahava moved nearer the Gilwen, reaching for her hand. She did seem so nervous! She almost started at the touch of her skin, yet held herself reserved still, though did glance down to see that Gilwen’s hands were certainly injured. They were coarse indeed! And cracked; it seemed that not too long ago they had bled. “It is not good for a Lady to receive such abuse,” she noted, still in a whisper. “Please, he shall not hurt you, should you come with me. And you will not be made to see any man; only those of your choosing.”

The aloof woman had turned over the past moments almost to a normal demeanor, perhaps seeming more sisterly or motherly, than she had spoken to anyone in a long time, and even revealing a small portion of her past. Perhaps it was in mere desperation now. But it was entirely necessary, she deemed it! What would happen to the girl if she did not get out of this dreadful home! Ahava had experience, at least, what she thought, was the very same, and at times a woman must put down her guard to help another, indeed.

[Gilwen]

“Oh, I had thought you one of his customers.”

Gilwen physically gasped at such a thing. One of his customers? Heavens! Not at all! Her heart clenched a slight at the thought of such words reaching her father, or indeed her Faeldor. “No, my lady,” she managed to murmur fervently, though not hysterically. “I—I do not…offer…”

“Is he home then?”

Such words interrupted her, and Gilwen could not find the breath to correct her until her words had quite run their course. Her own father? Gilwen began to pale, and to fidget uneasily in her seat. No, Beregar had never—would never—ask his daughter to do such things. He cared for her—she was not abused by him! Though, the fact the pretty woman looked upon her hands in such a way as to think that she were tortured in receiving such burns and cuts saddened the woman utterly.

“No, my lady. My—I am sorry that…” She trailed off a bit, “My father does not hurt me.” She made the words sound confident, and she was certainly speaking the truth. “I know Lord Durion through my suitor, and by my position within the palace.” She had no idea what else she could say, but the care that she could see within Ahava’s eyes unnerved her.

This woman truly thought her a harlot, but she was working to protect her. Gilwen did not know what to do! Certainly this woman was here trying to help! But it did not seem as if she understood. What else could she possibly say that would not offend the lady, but also rid her of such a stigma?

“I do apologize,” she said again, very meekly. “I…” she did not wish to speak openly against Durion, no matter how foul the man was. “Lord Durion has not…approved of my relationship with Faeldor,” though, Gilwen mused, such a thing was probably not the case at all. The man was simply bored, she was certain. There were no better people to manipulate and ruin than herself.

“I do not earn my wages that way, I scrub floors in the palace.” She nodded to her hands, as they were living testament to it. Nobody could look upon the wretched things and not see her work ethic. Or her station; she had not the hands that a harlot would need. No man should desire such rough touches.

Though, her Faeldor did not seem to mind taking her hand. But they couldn’t please him. Not like soft ones would. “I am sorry,” she finished.

[Miriel]

“No, my lady. My—I am sorry that… My father does not hurt me. I know Lord Durion through my suitor, and by my position within the palace. I do apologize… I… Lord Durion has not…approved of my relationship with Faeldor.”

Ahava looked on thoughtfully as Gilwen continued to speak. Was she being truthful? She had known many a woman who was so terrified of those who owned and worked her that they would have said anything to escape the retribution ensured after such a conversation. Was she reasoning with herself? Had the man truly convinced her that he was causing her no harm?

“I do not earn my wages that way, I scrub floors in the palace.”

Ahava looked down at the woman’s hands. It certainly seemed believable that she would come down with such worked hands by scrubbing floors. However, she still did not entirely know what to think. Durion’s charm was quite manipulative, and even Ahava, who was well experienced in reading the falsities in others had not passed through it.

“I see… You scrub floors in the palace…” she repeated, her voice returning to its deep and thick brogue.

“Then it is all a falsity? Durion has made rumor among myself and the women…”

The woman bit her lip for a moment, feeling a bit uneasy, and looking about the house again. No, she supposed any sensible man that had wished to work his daughter would not have lived in such a dingy place. Gilwen was not dressed the part either. Though she was petite and pretty, the brown dress she wore would certainly not be appealing to those who came seeking company.

Ahava now was in a predicament, and she inwardly scolded herself for letting a matter of her heart get to her. Perhaps it had been years since she had held conversation with a woman who was considered pure and undefiled, as this woman seemed. A suitor, she even mentioned having. Certainly if she had a true suitor, she was not one to sell herself to others. Now the lady of the Haradwaith felt the vulnerable one… she had so thought their stories alike, and with such desperation had wished to help the poor woman, that she had revealed more of her past to her in the few short sentences than most of even the ladies that had resided years in her brothel knew.

She sighed. Certainly she should not have acted so on impulse to come here! She did not venture to speak with those past women of her own profession. It was liable to only spur men on if they should see her speaking with another woman; no matter the honor or virtue that she held.

“If ever… you should find yourself in need…” she said after some moments of thoughtfulness, “Do not bypass my home… even if you did not wish to work…” She still felt some pity after all, for if the woman was not in one predicament, she was obviously in another. What else would cause someone to move to this tier, and such rumors to be spread?

[Gilwen]

“Then it is all a falsity? Durion has made rumor among myself and the women…”

Gilwen nodded slowly, though did not wish to seem rude. Still, her quiet nature was completely strained, and as such it was increasingly hard to find the words. “I am sorry,” she merely repeated again. Oh, it surely sounded foolish! It seemed to be all the little serving woman had to say. And truly, there was nothing for her to be sorry for. Durion had once more set to work in making her life difficult. It was his fault that she was living here. Faeldor’s embrace was long forgotten by the people: what was left was rumor alone.

It was sickening. She had thought that she would be able to escape such things; it had been her little light of hope amongst all of the darkness in moving here. The first tier did not know of her accusations, the people were new! But this! This was clearly not the case at all. Her false reputation had beaten her, and had settled in long before her own things were even unpacked. A swell of moroseness filled her heart and soul, and the little woman wished to simply have this all behind her.

What was worse was that she still had to explain to Faeldor of the move. Her beloved did not know yet. He would certainly be angry and bothered that she had not told him sooner. And to know that here, her reputation was still sullied…he would be worried as well.

If Gilwen had not kept her logical side in control of her, she would have stood at that moment to find the man at the stables. She could certainly have used his comforting words and warm arms at that moment. Oh, but she could not bear to simply walk up to him now. Not with so much she need tell him, or indeed the promise she had left with her mother that she would not leave the house. Oh, and Niniel and Beregar would return from the market and expect to find her working away. But now…now Gilwen did not wish for such things at all.

“If ever… you should find yourself in need…do not bypass my home… even if you did not wish to work…”

Gilwen looked upon Ahava a moment in silence, as was only her nature. Perhaps a bit of this eased her discomfort: yes, the rumor had spread even here. But here, there were people that already were willing to help her, and care for her if the need should arise. “Thank you, my lady.” Gilwen said quietly, though thankfully. She could not see herself in need of such help soon, though. Nonetheless she did not wish to seem put off by the woman; Ahava had been through a lot, her own questions and tries at connection had certainly moved Gilwen’s little heart. She was, truly, compassionate toward all. And even a woman like Ahava, in so little time spent, had drawn Gilwen’s compassion.

Her brown eyes were certainly soft upon her, though perhaps her body was still a bit stiff from the surprise of such a visit to her home. “I do wish to thank you for your concern,” the little thing said gently.

[Miriel]

“I do wish to thank you for your concern.”

Ahava attempted to compose herself. Really, none of it had been true! Obviously, it was true that the woman had lost her post as a servant in the palace halls… she had admitted as much… but not for that reason. The young woman had been so concerned, and careless with her own information… now she had spoken such in front of this young woman who she did not even know… not that any of it would do anything to harm her reputation, for the only reputation Ahava held, was as that best working Madam of the first tier.

“Forgive me, my Lady, for my informal visit,” Ahava said moments later, moving to stand and smoothing her gown as she did so. She indeed hoped that this visit would cause the lady no harm.

“As it is, you have just moved here, and if I may still offer you warning… any Lady, whether… harlot,” she had difficulty saying the word that so defined and divided her from the proper women of the city, “… or not… must keep an eye to mind themselves on these streets.”

“Good day,” she said, her concerned voice giving way to the melodious accent attributed to her ethnicity. However, she offered Gilwen still a genuinely kind smile. With that, she moved outside. The silken fabric of her dressed moved in a way that caught the attention of more than one man upon the street, and her belt jingled softly. Though she smiled to those who looked at her, her eyes had lost the tenderness that she had exulted in Gilwen’s presence, and were once more merely reflections of the things she saw.