Gilwen
Man
servant
There are times when silence has the loudest voice.[Mo0:0]
Posts: 593
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Post by Gilwen on Dec 3, 2009 18:37:10 GMT -5
“A man’s heart can still a beat at the sight of natural beauty as well… yet for such beauty to be placed upon the lady who they love. Now that does not cause a heart to still… but to quicken.”
Gilwen blushed a slight hearing his words, though found them comforting as well. She could sense, perhaps, that Faeldor himself was growing a bit impassioned, if only by the way his words trailed on and the way his hand dropped protectively, and possessively, to her thigh. It was strange to her in that moment. His body did warm against her, a sudden spike of temperature that marked his heated state. But how strange it was! She had never thought, truly, that any man would feel such a way about her. Or that she could make a man, especially one such as Faeldor, get lost for moments within such desires.
He checked himself, though, and it was with great speed that he had risen his hand to her waist once more. Slowly, it was clear, his body began to release the desires—or at least hide them and keep them at bay.
“I do wonder how Master Turtle, and the Lord and Lady of the Shell fare on this day. No doubt they have come out to sun upon the rocks again.”
Immediately her cheeks turned red for her embarrassment. Oh, she did wish that such things would simply let her be and drift far from any memory that she, or her stable master, held. How childish it sounded, even now! “Faeldor!” And that was all she had the mind to reply with. She was not going to offer him any more words that he could remember and bring up again later. Though, he certainly had turned her mind to turtles, and ever so secretly she began to wonder about them herself.
--
To her question, Faeldor had admitted he was warm. Gilwen instantly stiffened and gasped lightly, now feeling utterly guilty that he had felt so uncomfortable all this time and had said nothing to her. “Perhaps, we could go inside for a time. My mother’s house surely holds water and shade.” As he began to speak, the little thing looked up at him, finally pulling away from her spot tucked against his shoulder. Immediately her eyes frowned: Faeldor looked rather flushed from heat, and perhaps a bit sickly. He slid her from his lap, and she allowed it without much outward protest. He did look ill; perhaps going inside for some water and shade was quite well what he needed.
Indeed, it seemed to be so—what with the way he wished to make it her own idea that they venture to his home, by mentioning that Rosiel would not be there. She certainly did not wish to let him suffer here with her! They would still be together, would they not?
Oh, but walking through the streets again! Gilwen felt her heart clench at the very idea. She did not know if she was ready to face the city once more. Nonetheless, she nodded. “Then let us go,” she said quietly, seeing as he had already reached for his boots. She could make it; Faeldor would be by her side.
She stood herself, brown eyes quickly checking about for any sign of others. Though, the only men about were the farmers who were slowly beginning to tend to their fields once more.
A nervous hand raised to finger her braid, tucking it against her neck tightly, hoping beyond anything that such a mark would not draw eyes as she wound up to the sixth tier. She was, certainly, in no mood for any more accusations of harlotry. And indeed, she did not wish Faeldor’s own family to see it. Surely at least the smallest of the children would be there. The last thing they need know of was of such a thing as what had been left on Gilwen’s neck. Either it would paint Faeldor or herself negatively, or it would frighten them.
No, the children did not need learn of how foul and vile men could be. The same hand slid down to finger the skirt along her thigh. It was bad enough that Gilwen could not rid herself of the images and fear; she could not imagine any others living with such nightmarish images as well.
Now that her mind had turned to darker thoughts, the young lady awaited Faeldor’s frame to stand so she could tuck herself against him once more. Though, she dropped her eyes to look upon him once more, he did look utterly flushed from heat, as if he had been working hours. The woman frowned slightly, perhaps it was best to try and give him space to cool; her body seemed to protest at the very thought. She could handle herself, could she not? She had walked the streets of this city without him, she could surely keep her distance now. There was no true danger in the middle of the day; none would trouble her.
So why was it so hard to convince herself that she need not press close against her beloved?
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Faeldor
Man
Head Stablemaster
Do we walk in legends or on the green earth in the daylight?[Mo0:1]
Posts: 556
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Post by Faeldor on Dec 3, 2009 22:00:46 GMT -5
The man finally placed his boots upon his feet; moving at a slow and rather lethargic pace, and pushed himself up from the ground to stand. Gilwen had stood before him, and waited nervously. Faeldor easily noted the anxiety in the Lady’s eyes, and in the way her fingers gripped her skirt.
“Gilwen,” he started, looking down at her, and pressing his hands lightly on her sides. “I am with you.”
He watched her for a moment, though shortly moved to grasp her hand, twining her fingers against his own. Surely it was not too warm to hold her hand, though his palms seemed a bit hot and clammy. Indeed though, it did not seem that she would mind. She needed closeness… he understood why.
However, he could not think on the matter for too long; for suddenly his legs seemed to ache and cramp. He bent to rub his calf for a moment, though smiled and tried to shrug it off to Gilwen, who would certainly throw a fit of worry at the fact that he had reacted in such a way! “I must have sat too long…” he mumbled. “My legs fell asleep.” He stepped up and down a few times to demonstrate that he was fine, and the pain slowly passed. The man took a deep breath.
“Glad I did not bring a spare tunic today,” he tried to say lightly. “My but it is hot outside.” He stood, staring out into the field for a time, though perhaps he did not realize how long it was, as he was a bit disoriented, and then he wiped the perspiration from his forehead with his free hand. “We best get back to the city… maybe someday soon we will be able to go for a ride in the evening again, dearheart. It is too hot to be out here in the day; this time of year…”
Faeldor rubbed his head for a moment, looking down at Gilwen still, and willing himself to start walking. But it would be a long walk up to the sixth tier. He sighed, tightening his hand upon her, and moving forward. Even the Great Gate seemed a long way off.
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Gilwen
Man
servant
There are times when silence has the loudest voice.[Mo0:0]
Posts: 593
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Post by Gilwen on Dec 3, 2009 22:51:52 GMT -5
He stood, though something about it was a bit off. Gilwen could not truly put her finger on it, though perhaps the man was simply tired; he had, after all, exerted a storm of force upon that man that morning…
Oh, that man. Gilwen shuddered at the mere thought of referring to him in such a way. That was not a man; he was a predator: a sickening soul. Her fear and anxiety must have showed all too well in her eyes, for immediately, Faeldor seemed to counteract with the words, “Gilwen, I am with you.” She looked to him a moment, and finally nodded. “I know you shouldn’t leave me.”
He reached for her hand, and the woman gladly let him lace his fingers through her own. Still, there was something else about this that was strange, and a bit of concern welled within her. Perhaps he was just a bit warm; it was merely perspiration. Or, at least she thought so until he reached down to rub his legs. “Fael?” She asked concernedly, brown doe eyes filled with a bit of motherly worry. Surely something was wrong! He had never cramped from their closeness before!
“My but it is hot outside.”
Gilwen frowned. As much as she would have liked to believe that Faeldor was well, she was skeptical of such things. “Yes, it is quite warm,” she agreed slowly. She was watching his face, even as he began to speak once more. Though he seemed a bit lost—in a thought perhaps? Before she had a chance to inquire, the man seemed to regain himself and slowly tug upon her arm to lead her back to the city. His pace was slow, though perhaps it was because of his ankle. Nonetheless, Gilwen tried her best to give him his space, though with every passing thought it grew harder to do.
The sun was still bright, though, and her beloved held her hand—and even as they passed through the gate back into the city, the streets were far more busy. Indeed, it was like a dull roar of voices upon the first tier, though flitty and timid eyes swept over the crowd: she was looking for him, now.
Surely he was not well enough to stand yet. There could not be a way he was back upon the street, nor would he look for her; Faeldor was near. She flicked her gaze to him, then, and frowned. Though, he was not looking well. At all. She frowned, her little forehead creasing a bit with worry and anxiety, though the more steps they took through the crowd, the more anxious she felt.
This part of the street was entirely familiar to her. She walked this often; she had walked it this morning. Gilwen’s hand gripped Faeldor’s a bit tighter, though she did not notice she was clinging to it so.
Here, this had been where the man had spoken to her.
This had been where he had grabbed her wrist.
And here…
“Can’t you do anything about it? Scrub harder!” A voice called above the crowd.
A kneeling man looked back upward to a shopkeeper and said, “I am, my lady.”
“Honestly. It is bad for business. Blasted tier cannot have one decent night. Should I get my hand on the two vagrants that did this…”
These words had been drowned out by Gilwen’s blood rushing through her ears. Before she had even reached the precise location, her heart was in a flurry, and her muscles had grown stiff; the crimson river of blood had stained the cobbled street, and like a deer she had stopped dead within her tracks, staring wide-eyed at the damage done.
Panic descended upon her, and immediately her body began to tremble.
Here…this had been where she had almost been robbed. Where she had been touched…where…
She could not turn to look at Faeldor, indeed it seemed as if she were affixed to the bloody stones upon the street, and the red-stained walls of the shop. It looked ever so much darker in the sunlight.
So…much…blood.
Her stomach churned, and fear seized her utterly. Had it been this close to her own home? Had she been attacked that near her own Papa's house? She opened her mouth a slight, still gawking as the images flashed through her mind. The man's eyes, the feeling of terror and impact as he thrust her against the wall. His wandering hands...his lips.
The shopkeeper looked over to her, and visibly frowned. "Keep moving, girl. This isn't none of your concern!"
Oh, but it was. Gilwen had been there...the blood of the man that had tried to hurt her was the stain at which she was staring. Those arms that had held her all morning...they had done this. The hand that was holding hers now...it had broken that man's face. "The...man...?"
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Faeldor
Man
Head Stablemaster
Do we walk in legends or on the green earth in the daylight?[Mo0:1]
Posts: 556
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Post by Faeldor on Dec 4, 2009 10:19:18 GMT -5
Faeldor had barely noticed that they had stopped walking; he was certainly lost in his thoughts now. In truth, after they had passed Gilwen’s house he was mustering up thoughts and ideas of exactly how he would approach Beregar the next day. For, the next day was certainly when he would go to him.
Surely the man would hear about Gilwen’s incident this morning. She had to tell him, for it was something a father would need and wish to know, even if it angered him. Faeldor loved Gilwen most of all, and this was why he wished to wed her. Yet, perhaps he could appeal to Beregar in other ways. She would be safe with him, well provided for… a father would want such for his daughter. The man sighed, clutching Gilwen a bit nearer, and knowing that whatever Beregar said; he would persist.
Perhaps he had become a bit disoriented. He should have been paying delicate attention to Gilwen at this point; and in his own mind he was, but physically he was simply standing by her side.
"The...man...?" The soft voice seemed to break the man from his trance like gaze upon the cobbles, and he realized where they were standing. A woman was shouting, and a man was scrubbing on the walk.
He shivered slightly, a chill running through him as he saw the blood dyed stone. Then he noticed his lady, and the look of terror upon her face. She seemed to tremble and shrink beside him. His protective instinct swept in, and his voice turned to concern. “Gilwen, he is not here.” With his short words, his arm wrapped fully around the woman, and with a slight burst of strength, he drew her forward from her tracks. Even if it was a bit forceful, he deemed it necessary, for he could not let her look upon it. Best that that man scrubbed it from the walk before she had chance to see again.
Indeed, he did not feel hot at all now, save his head and neck, even though he was still sweating. It was not long again before he had to slow his pace, and he worked to keep his arm wrapped around Gilwen. He glanced upward. The sight of the blood was gone; though the sun was making him to feel nauseous now still. He seem to be at a loss for words; he could do nothing now but fume again in his mind over the morning, and clutch the woman at his side. Yes, they would be up to his home soon. He could sit with her in the cool stone house, and everything would be right fine.
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Gilwen
Man
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There are times when silence has the loudest voice.[Mo0:0]
Posts: 593
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Post by Gilwen on Dec 4, 2009 11:01:55 GMT -5
Faeldor had just stood there. Gilwen, though, did not seem to notice his lack of attention. She was far to preoccupied herself at the moment, though the minute she heard is voice, in the back of her head, she wondered on it. But it was ever so pushed aside—she was far too shaken to truly worry on it now.
He wrapped his arm about her, and Gilwen allowed him to hold her, and even dismissed the forceful thrust that got her legs to keep walking. She felt, through Faeldor’s undershirt, that he was wet from sweat. He was utterly warm against her, yet he was shivering a slight.
Even through her apprehension and fears, she noticed this. Perhaps it made her nerves all the worse. He must be ill, she thought after a moment. Perhaps because of the blood? She could not really concentrate on such a problem, though. At the thought of the blood, her own mind had drowned in darkened images and scenarios.
She could not shake it; her eyes were burned with the terrifying images. It was as if she were watching various forms of nightmares recur upon the every tier; every white stoned building was a source of fear.
They had wound their way upward through the city, the pace even slow for what Gilwen was used to when walking with her Faeldor. A part of her noted the difference, the other wished to cry out and hurry them along for fear of what the streets might hold.
Faeldor had thought upon her father, unbeknownst to Gilwen, and the little lady was thinking of the man herself. Coming home, having the mark upon her neck. Beregar would not be able to miss such a thing. He would be furious; immediately he would blame Faeldor. Not even all the pleading in the world would be able to still his impulses, Gilwen was sure.
Niniel would be terrified for her, she was certain of it. She did not wish to face either of them on such a thing. She did not wish to have to pretend that she was okay. The image once again flashed through her mind of the man as he moved her against the wall, and the lady’s body shuddered once more. Oh, these images! They were haunting her!
She bit her lip as she realized they were finally upon the sixth tier, and suddenly her mind shifted in the other direction. Faeldor’s family! Goodness, they would be wondering over the mark themselves. What would she say? She did not wish them to think her dull of mind to have wandered upon the first tier alone. She did not wish them to ask her questions; she wished to rid herself of the images and memories the questions would ignite.
She took a desperate, and rather deep breath as she tried to calm herself. Indeed, she and Faeldor were now close to his own home.
She looked up to him a moment, and frowned all the more. Gracious, every time she laid eyes on him it seemed as if he had grown worse. “Fael, you do not look well,” she observed quietly, though worriedly. She did not wish to think on that man. Merely this one. Her warrior. They were almost to his home, surely he would make it to his home? Still, such a state of her beloved was doing nothing to calm the little woman, and she could feel her heart hammering in her chest.
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Faeldor
Man
Head Stablemaster
Do we walk in legends or on the green earth in the daylight?[Mo0:1]
Posts: 556
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Post by Faeldor on Dec 4, 2009 15:42:52 GMT -5
“Fael, you do not look well.” The man could say nothing. He did not feel well, it was certain, but now they were here at least, and he might go in and sit down. He was certainly thirsty. Faeldor came upon to his doorstep, and drew Gilwen into the entryway. “We will get some water…” he said, moving with her down the hall to the kitchen.
Meleth turned from the window across where she was standing, and Narbeleth stood at the counter, her hands in a mass of dough, and flour streaked across her face. Marileth was beside her, leaning against the counter, measuring out flour into her own bowl. The mother and daughters had taken a busy morning baking, though it was a fun event for all of them. It would be even more fun to deliver their baked goods later on, to their friends and neighbors.
The two girls lit their eyes up as Gilwen and Faeldor entered the kitchen. “Fael! I did not know you took the day off!” Narbeleth gleamed at her brother. “Hello Gilwen!” she added, just as glad to see her friend as she was to her brother. “Oh…” she stilled her voice when she saw the facial expressions of the two. “Mama, something is wrong,” Marileth said quickly.
“Faeldor, what is wrong?” Meleth asked, suddenly worried and placing down the dishes she had been drying to move quickly over to her son. “For Eru’s sake, what happened?” her eyes glazed over Gilwen’s face as well. Though the woman seemed a bit paled and her face strained, Faeldor indeed looked ill. She moved to press a hand to his forehead before he even had a chance to speak.
“Mother, that man…” he started, angrily. At the question of what was wrong, he hardly thought of his physical state; rather, his mind had turned back to the disgrace that had happened that very morning.
“What man, Faeldor?” Meleth questioned worried. “Faeldor, were you in a fight? You are too old for these things, for the love of all, what were you doing?” she noticed the bruise on the man’s face, and having already raised him to this age; knew instinctively what it was. “Marileth, get them some water,” the woman instructed.
Faeldor frowned, still feeling a bit disoriented; though his mother’s hand was certainly cool upon his forehead, and brought him slightly to his senses. “He was hurting her, mother. I had to stop him. It was this morning, when it was still dark… he had her against the wall. He would have violated her had I not come. I had to beat him… he would have raped her.”
As Faeldor rambled on, his mother could certainly tell that this was a larger issue than she had expected. She looked sorrowfully to Gilwen, for experiencing such a thing, but at the moment, she first needed to help her son. He seemed about to collapse. “Faeldor, come sit down before you fall over, son. You are ill,” she attempted to say gently, though she cast a worried look to Gilwen.
“No, that is what happened. He was hurting her…” the Stablemaster continued, feeling as if his mother were arguing against him. He pulled Gilwen into his arms and held her, quite firm, but gently against his damp shirt, as if to protect her.
Narbeleth had thrown off her floured apron, and moved in to help. “Oh, Fael, we believe you,” she affirmed to the man. “Come, you need to sit down. Let her go, Fael. She is safe. Come… sit down.”
“Come here, sweetheart,” Meleth tried to calm her son, seeing that he was panicking.
“Gilwen you too. Let you come sit down over here.” Narbeleth looked about for a moment, and found a stool to pull out from beneath the counter. Then she proceeded to loosen Faeldor’s hands, and eventually he relented to releasing Gilwen to his sister, and Narbeleth drew the lady to sit down.
Meleth moved in to care for her son, and turned him to sit upon a chair near the wall, though Faeldor had turned back toward the hallway. “I feel ill…” was all he managed to say, before stepping out of the kitchen and vomiting on the stone floor. Meleth’s hands flew to the air, and she went after her poor boy, to comfort him. “Marileth! The water!” she called.
“There Gilwen, sit down. He’ll be alright,” Narbeleth said, a bit nervously. She would move to help her mother, but yet she was still not certain if Gilwen was in the same state as Faeldor, and could not leave her to sit alone. Marileth sat down a cup of water for her upon the counter, then quickly hurried to her brother.
“Gilwen, were you out in the heat of day?” Meleth asked, looking back through the doorway. Faeldor had since moved himself to sit upon the floor, and finally leaned back against the wall, while Marileth helped him with a drink. It was not uncommon for a man to take heat exhaustion, though whatever could he have been doing to warrant such a thing now! If he had not been at work! She was rather confused, though, if this was the case, it was not a difficult mend. Water and rest…
“There, brother,” Marileth said lightly, doting on him even at the age of twelve, and using her apron to wipe his face.
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Gilwen
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There are times when silence has the loudest voice.[Mo0:0]
Posts: 593
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Post by Gilwen on Dec 4, 2009 16:48:23 GMT -5
Gilwen frowned all the more that Faeldor did not assure her he was well; certainly he was feeling horrid. He looked as if he were feeling horrid. Though, he whisked her into his home and the cool air helped still her slightly. They were out of the sun, perchance all he needed was to sit down; and some water.
They got to the kitchen, and instantly Gilwen and Faeldor were greeted with smiling faces…but it seemed soon they had noticed their state, and such expressions washed away.
“Mama, something is wrong.”
The concern that had come over them immediately strained Gilwen’s nerves more. She was about to speak on Faeldor’s own unease, but he had stated something much different. Instantly Gilwen paled and shuddered. “Fael,” she murmured cautiously. She did not wish for them to know of it, not yet. He needed to be tended to, first. She couldn’t handle a recount; not now. It did seem, though, that the Valar had willed such words to pass, and for the subject to press.
“Faeldor, were you in a fight? You are too old for these things, for the love of all, what were you doing?”
Immediately, her heart was hammering again, and the little thing tried to shy away from eye contact. Brown eyes fell to the floor, and she nervously hoped and prayed that Faeldor would not speak of it. Goodness, Marileth was in the room! She need not know, none of them needed to know. Oh, but Faeldor must have been feeling unlike himself, for he continued to ramble heatedly, not careful of the words he chose.
“He was hurting her, mother. I had to stop him. It was this morning, when it was still dark… he had her against the wall. He would have violated her had I not come. I had to beat him… he would have raped her.”
Each word seemed to spur Gilwen’s own unease, and sparked the fitful pictures to play before her eyes once more. Instantly, her frame was shaking and her eyes watered a slight. He had kissed her, he had touched her. Any more time and she would have been taken fully.
She felt as if she could feel him, his nasty lips hungrily pressing against her neck, and the hand that had covered her own mouth so she could not cry for help. Instinctively, she raised her own hand to touch her lips, to be sure the hand was indeed gone. Oh, but nothing could possibly still her now.
“Faeldor, come sit down before you fall over, son. You are ill.” “No, that is what happened. He was hurting her…”
It was as if he were to recount it all again. Gilwen’s heart was in her throat and her trembling frame was held against Faeldor’s sweat-dampened shirt. “Please, Fael. Stop,” her voice was weak and shaky, and her hands clung direly to his shirt. No, she could not hear it again. She wasn’t strong like him, she could not take it again.
Tears began to trickle down her cheeks. Gracious, she needed to do something! To keep her mind from that stain of blood along the cobbled stones that she had passed on her way up, to block the sound of rushing blood in her ears, or mute the sound of cracking bones. Of the man’s voice as he had gripped her, and asked her for her services. And Faeldor! He was in quite a state. “I had to beat him…he would have raped her.” The blunt statement had terrified her most, and the words seemed to reverberate within her until she could no longer hear the sound of anything else.
She felt hands on her that did not belong to Faeldor at all, and for a moment the young woman panicked. Oh, but it was simply Narbeleth! Gilwen, though, could not begin to quiet her own nerves. Her silent tears and tremors had taken over again.
She was drawn away from Faeldor, though despite herself knowing Faeldor needed some space to calm himself, she was wrenched at the idea of separating from him. Beleth forced her to sit upon a stool in the kitchen, and watched helplessly as Meleth led Faeldor to sit upon a chair on the far corner. Even through her tears she could see he was unwell, and this set her more into a panic. They had sat too long! It was her own fault he was ill. She should have been more perceptive, she should have taken care of him better!
“I feel ill…” “Marileth! The water!”
“Fael!” Gilwen cried as she lurched from the stool she was on, now completely hysterical. This was her fault, all of this was her fault. She shouldn’t have left the house early; none of this would have happened if she had just waited for him in the morning.
“There Gilwen, sit down. He’ll be alright.”
No, no, Gilwen couldn’t sit down. He wasn’t all right; he was on the floor. But Beleth’s hand had stopped her from going to him, too. And truthfully, her own legs felt weak; she was shaking too horribly to reach him anyway. This day was cursed! Gilwen immediately fell back to the stool, huddling in on herself. She had done this. She had made Faeldor sick!
“Gilwen, were you out in the heat of day?”
“I’m sorry!” She gasped. “I shouldn’t have kept him out…I am sorry!”
She was going to make herself sick, now. But Meleth! Oh, Gilwen had harmed her son! She had hurt her beloved stablemaster! However selfish she had been! “He’s going to be okay, isn’t he?” She gasped desperately, gripping Beleth’s skirt tightly into her hands. “I am sorry!”
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Faeldor
Man
Head Stablemaster
Do we walk in legends or on the green earth in the daylight?[Mo0:1]
Posts: 556
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Post by Faeldor on Dec 5, 2009 19:22:58 GMT -5
“I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have kept him out…I am sorry! He’s going to be okay, isn’t he? ….I am sorry!”
Oh, Gilwen had worked herself into a fit now as well! She was crying and trembling, and trying to pull away to go after Faeldor. Narbeleth was used to handling frenzied women, in her line of work, and she attempted to still her. She held that little woman down on the stool, that she might not attempt a flight across the room, injure her own self.
“He will be fine,” the young woman preened, standing close against Gilwen’s side as she sat, and stroking her hair to calm her, as if she were little Haliel.
As if to affirm her words, Meleth looked about the corner, “Just needs a bit of rest, dear, and he will be well. Just rest, and calming down…” The mother was speaking softly, rubbing her son’s back as she went.
“Do not blame yourself, Gil,” Narbeleth hummed, reaching for the cup of water that Marileth had left for her, and moving to press it to her lips and help her to drink. “Take a sip,” she interrupted herself, forcing a drink on the lady, though soon continued. “You know he is a stubborn man, he would do as he pleases to stay out in the heat. He’s done it before. Then he got all worked up. There… calm down, dear, you need a rest as well, it seems. You’ve both had a rough day.”
She offered Gilwen another drink, though finally sat the cup down, stilling her with both hands again. Meanwhile, Faeldor had himself settled, leaning back against the wall. Marileth saw to him to drink, and Meleth had taken the man’s shirt off, as it was both drenched with sweat and now soiled. In short time, the woman had cleaned the mess in the hall and come back in to get a cloth for Faeldor, though she stopped for a moment beside Gilwen as well, a cool hand pressing her forehead.
“There, dear, you don’t feel too warm.” She looked to Narbeleth, and the daughter shook her head, answering, “No, just shaken up, I’m afraid… She is just frightened.” Beleth spoke quietly, holding Gilwen’s head against her skirts as she stood beside the stool, attempting to calm her.
“Hm…” Meleth thought to herself, fetching a cloth and cooling it in the washbasin. “We should get you to lie down, dear,” she said to Faeldor. Mari, help me take him to stand. We’ll go to the sitting room.”
With Marileth’s help, and a bit of Faeldor’s own assistance, they got the man up off the ground, and helped him toward the sitting room. And Narbeleth stood for a moment with Gilwen though eventually drew her to her feet as well, taking the cup of water in one hand. “Come upstairs with me, Gilwen,” she said, as she took the young woman’s arm. “You might rest on my bed a little while, and we will give Fael some quiet. Mama can tend to him just fine.”
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Gilwen
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There are times when silence has the loudest voice.[Mo0:0]
Posts: 593
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Post by Gilwen on Dec 5, 2009 20:28:35 GMT -5
Beleth was quick to assure her that Faeldor was okay, but Gilwen’s hysterics seemed inconsolable. Nonetheless, Beleth’s hands gently and firmly held her into place. She heard voices assuring her, speaking softly and with kind words. However, she paid no attention to their words. The serving woman was led to take a sip of water, and while this lessened her deep gasps, it was not calming.
Beleth, though, had wrapped her arms about her, and pressed Gilwen’s shaking and huddled form into her skirts, and her soft hands working through the dark tresses of the serving woman was enough to slightly still her. It seemed the gentle attentions were enough to settle the desperate woman a slight.
Meleth came in herself, though Gilwen hardly even noticed when the woman pressed her hand against her forehead. The only warmth she would have felt had come from her own hysterics, though the woman was utterly careful with her.
“There, dear, you don’t feel too warm.” “No, just shaken up, I’m afraid… She is just frightened.”
Gilwen shuddered again and pressed herself closer to Narbeleth. It was not often that Gilwen allowed herself to be mothered in such a way, but today! Today it felt as if that young woman had gone, and someone else had taken her place.
She heard words uttered to move Faeldor to lie down, and instantly she felt as if she should stand to help. It was, after all, the least that she could do for him. She had put him in danger that morning, and had kept him out entirely too long in the sun. Indeed, she wished to care for him, she loved him.
But it seemed she was not going to be allowed the opportunity. Instead, Marileth took her place and they worked to get Faeldor to someplace comfortable. As they moved out of sight, Beleth worked an invitation toward Gilwen as well. She could find no voice to respond, but nodded slowly and consented. She had no energy to protest herself; and she was slowly led toward the upstairs room.
The pace was slow, for Beleth was mindful of Gilwen’s shaky legs. It felt like ages until they had gotten to the top of the stairs, and Gilwen had clung to the lively young woman with everything she had. She couldn’t stand the thought of being let go, though she managed to murmur, “Tell Faeldor I am sorry.” She hadn’t meant for this to happen. She wasn’t supposed to be this weak, or dull of mind. And he! She wasn’t supposed to have made him ill.
They had entered the room, what door it was Gilwen had not paid any attention to. But it was clear they had arrived. It was cleanly, amply furnished with two beds, trunks and full closets. She did not have time to truly react too much of the furnishings though, because it seemed immediately Beleth had begun inquiring to the morning.
Gilwen had reacted horribly to such things, though had recounted the events in as hushed a voice as she could muster for herself. She did not wish to recall anything anymore, and perhaps a part of her was distraught that she had to. Nonetheless, she finished her story and had truly run dry her tears.
As she spoke of her neck, she had begun to fiddle with her braid, and run a frenzied hand over her skin as if she could wipe away the mark she had received. Still, she was no longer as worked up as she had been downstairs; the rush of fear she had gotten watching Faeldor get so sick had passed mostly.
But still, she was clearly unwell. She needed to desperately calm her own self, before she caused her own stomach to grow too weak.
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Faeldor
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Do we walk in legends or on the green earth in the daylight?[Mo0:1]
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Post by Faeldor on Dec 14, 2009 17:05:42 GMT -5
Miriel lately had taken great pleasure to sitting alone in her room, and this day she had propped herself in her window seat as she looked out over the street. She had not missed Faeldor and Gilwen’s entrance, as she had seen them come from afar down the cobbled steps, yet she had chosen to remain in her room and pay them no attention.
However, such could not be for long, as it seemed that Narbeleth had returned upstairs; her hair still caught up in a bit of flour from the haste in which she had stilled her work. Gilwen had quite the panicked look upon her face, and Beleth was attempting to still her nerves with soft words. “Faeldor will be quite well… it is not your own fault, dear. He just needs a bit of rest, and you do as well.”
Narbeleth shot her a glare that would melt iron, should Miriel say a word to Gilwen, and the elder sister did not protest at this time. She lowered the book to her lap, and pressed her lips together, watching as Narbeleth brought the other woman to her bed to sit down. Her questioning eyes did bring about the answer that Faeldor had simply taken a bit of heat exhaustion. Not out of the ordinary for the man to do to himself once or twice a summer.
Beleth did not know if Gilwen had even noticed her sister present in the room, which was probably the best at any rate. She gently moved the woman to lie down upon the bed, pressing her shoulders back, and letting the woman’s tears fall upon her own pillow as she told her side of the morning’s story. Oh! What a horrible thing to happen to the poor dear! Beleth sat between Miriel and the woman upon her bed, yet still, Miriel was in no way about to interrupt with snide remark. Even the sister who cared naught for Gilwen was distressed by the words that she spoke. A thing as that should never happen to a person, no matter how lowly a servant they were.
“Thank Eru Faeldor came for you,” Narbeleth muttered, and Miriel inwardly agreed, silently moving from her place in the window. She gave Narbeleth a sorrowful look, but soon she had crept out of the room. Only the most hard hearted person would deny Gilwen rest and comfort at this time. Only a person such as Durion. Miriel frowned as she moved down the hall; she was not alike to Durion! Surely that man would take pleasure in hearing news of this. Well she would not be the one to tell him. --- The Stablemaster, meanwhile, was well tended to by his family, and it was not long before the mother and sister had the man lounging upon the sofa in the sitting room. Faeldor had given up in any protest, and allowed his mother to hold his cup of water, and his sister to remove his boots. Once Marileth had taken his stockings off, he lay propped up and sipping his water, and Meleth had pressed a cool cloth to his forehead. Eventually Meleth had dismissed Marileth, and sat beside Faeldor on her own, letting him to rest. --- Narbeleth sat on the edge of her bed with Gilwen for a long while. When Marileth had been dismissed from her brother’s care, she had moved upstairs and sat upon the end of Narbeleth’s bed, while her elder sister attemped to calm the woman still. It seemed that the woman’s trembling and tears took ages to cease, and even at the end of them, she would let out a dry and silent sob or shaky breath. Narbeleth had done all she could to still her; running her hands through the woman’s hair, rubbing her shoulders, and eventually willing the lady to turn on her side, that she might run her hands upon her back, massaging the tension from her body. Having her to lay in such a way reminded Narbeleth of the night she had helped Gilwen to ready for the Midsummer’s eve ball. Those scars running down her back…
Oh, the poor woman, she had been through enough in her lifetime, that all the rest of her days should be sweet and cheerful. Beleth began to hum softly. Yes, Faeldor would take fine care of Gilwen; she only willed that it would be soon that they found their happiness together, that the woman need not go through any more trauma.
The sound of her humming had drawn little footsteps down the hall from their own bedroom in which they had been playing. Diore and Eoric, soon followed by Haliel stood in the doorway, and Narbeleth was so intent on comforting Gilwen, that she would not have noticed if it were not for the click of Haliel’s cane as they approached the door. With their elder sister’s nod, the little ones came into the room. She slid her hands from Gilwen, finally, allowing her to sit up if she wished. “Look who has come to see you,” she added softly. “May we sit on your bed?” Haliel asked, and Narbeleth nodded, as the two girls climbed up.
“Are you ill, Gilwen?” Haliel asked, worried looking. “Is hurt hurt?” Diore echoed immediately following.
“She is just fine, little ones,” Beleth answered for the woman. The children had no reason to know any more than that. “She is just resting here with me. Come on, Eoric,” she smiled slightly as the little boy had gripped the blankets of the bed, but was not tall enough to pull himself up. She lifted him upon the mattress, and immediately the boy was full of smiles at seeing Gilwen, and he even spoke so. “Giw-wen,” he laughed, as Meleth had taught the tiny boy her name.
Now, with children occupying the woman, Beleth finally stood and busied herself to get a clean cloth to dip in the wash basin. Best to wipe the streaks of tear and dust from the lady’s cheeks before the little ones questioned it. Though, she was a bit too late, for Haliel had certainly noticed. “You’ve been crying,” she stated, a bit morosely in her small voice, looking first to Gilwen, and then to Beleth for an explanation.
“It is because she has missed you, Hali!” Beleth said quickly, forcing a smile to her lips, before Gilwen had need to try and find the words to answer such a statement from the little girl. “Right, Gilwen?” she smiled to the other woman.
“Oh, do not miss us, Gilwen. You can come and visit me any time,” the little voice assured, as Haliel crawled across the bed and mussed the blankets to wrap her arms about the woman. “And me!” the little blonde headed girl added, moving to copy Haliel and find room to embrace Gilwen. Eoric giggled at the happiness that the other children seemed to radiate, and snuggled into Gilwen as well.
This time, Narbeleth’s smile was a bit more realistic as she returned with the cloth, and sat again on the edge of the bed, allowing the hugging to finish before she moved to gently wipe Gilwen’s cheeks and let her face to look fresh.
It was with the voices, that Faelon poked his head about the doorway as well, and seeing all the other children present, he did not ask to enter but did so anyway, smiling gleefully at the sight of Gilwen. He climbed upon the bed as well, finding his chance to hug her, and he kissed her upon the cheek.
“Gilwen, Fael told me that I must only kiss your cheeks, as you are to be like my sister,” the little boy said the thoughts on his mind.
“You do not kiss my cheek ever, little brother,” Marileth teased him. The two made for light hearted banter, and Narbeleth sighed in relief that the children had come in to visit, for it had certainly lightened the mood.
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Gilwen
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There are times when silence has the loudest voice.[Mo0:0]
Posts: 593
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Post by Gilwen on Dec 14, 2009 20:50:20 GMT -5
In honesty, the young woman did not see Miriel in the room at all. Indeed, her eyes were held by the ghastly visions of that morning. Nonetheless, as Narbeleth led her to rest and worked to still her, Gilwen eventually found a slight peace amidst her terror. Beleth’s hands were soothing, and while it still took some time for the little thing to regain control of herself, she was no longer worsening in shape or manner.
Beleth had begun to hum to her, and just as Faeldor’s gentle voice had stilled her and calmed her earlier, so Beleth had worked her own ways with the little servant girl. It seemed she was not the only one calmed by such a thing; it drew others to the door. But even the sound of Haliel’s cane had not stirred gentle Gilwen from her pensive thoughts and loud, whirring mind.
It was only the words spoken that had startled her into the realization that there were others there. “Look who has come to see you.” Brown eyes flicked to the doorway to see Haliel, Diore and little Eoric looking inside and upon her. And Marileth was sitting upon the foot of the bed! How had she missed their entrance?
She tried to force a smile, though it certainly looked a bit off. Even the lovely little boy had done very little to alter her outward appearance at that moment, though perhaps her heart was all the lightened for it. It seemed the children immediately noticed something was amiss with her, though, and inquired concernedly as to her state of health and being. Beleth had been sure to set them at ease, even by lying ever so slightly, as all of them had worked their way into the bed as well.
Eoric, though, was unable to climb up himself. Beleth was quick to assist, and upon setting the child down near her, Gilwen was finally brought to truly smile at the sound of the little voice exclaiming, “Giw-wen.” Oh, that blessed little boy! She smiled over at Diore as well, and finally to Haliel, who seemed to notice right away the streaks of tear upon her face.
“It is because she has missed you, Hali! Right, Gilwen?”
“Yes,” Gilwen managed in response, and let Beleth come to her and freshen her cheeks with the cloth. There was no use crying anymore. She was quite safe here, and that man could not sully her, or touch her, anymore. “I have missed all of you very much.”
All at once, the young woman was assured with words and arms that she was welcome to visit them any time. And the three little bodies all tucked against her certainly made the woman ease. Faeldor had such a wonderful family. They were all so lovely. She worked her own arms about them, and squeezed them ever so lightly, offering each a nice kiss upon the forehead or head, as she could reach.
“If I can see you whenever I wish,” she began ever so softly, but with a steady smile, “I shall have to visit you all the more.”
It was nice to have them there. A blessed peace in her moment of turmoil. These children, they all loved her, and Gilwen loved them in return. Eoric had tucked himself close against her, and it was soon the bed seemed to be full. Everyone shifted a slight to gain a spot of their own, and it was all in good time. Faelon himself came in to the room himself.
He smiled at her, and she returned it; the kiss they had shared before being far from her mind. Still, as the boy came to wrap his arms about her and kiss her cheek, he did well to remind her of it.
“Gilwen, Fael told me that I must only kiss your cheeks, as you are to be like my sister.” “You do not kiss my cheek ever, little brother.”
Gilwen’s cheeks tinged a slight, but she laughed a bit anyway. “Yes, like a sister.” She managed to say. She had cried herself a great deal, and as such found very little in the way of energy at that moment. “And it shall be nice, for I have never had brothers or sisters of my own.” She smiled slightly, looking about her.
No, these were not simply children. They were her family. Though, as she looked upon Eoric, she found it hard to think of him as a brother. His age certainly tugged at her own mothering nature. She delicately drew the child closer to her, and wrapped him safely within her arms.
She was no longer frightened. Indeed, the feeling had left her. She now felt secure, and loved. And, perhaps, that was all little Gilwen needed. Surely when she was alone in the shadows of her own bedchamber she would remember the fright of the morning. But here, and now, she had let it drift from her thoughts.
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Faeldor
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Do we walk in legends or on the green earth in the daylight?[Mo0:1]
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Post by Faeldor on Dec 15, 2009 23:48:07 GMT -5
Narbeleth was rather quiet for herself, yet the other children passed conversation quite easily; including Gilwen amongst them, but at the same time, their talking did not cease. While most of the little ones could barely sit still and moved about the bed, little Eoric remained close to Gilwen, where he had very first placed himself.
As time had passed, Faeldor had found himself feeling much more himself again. Meleth sat with him all the while, caring for her son quite graciously in a way that only his mother could do, and a way she was not often allowed. She only rose once to take for him another cup of water, and make up a cup of cool mint tea to refresh his mouth, and while she was gone, the man found himself feeling well enough again to sit up.
“Faeldor,” Meleth chided as she came back in and found the man as he was. However, his tone of voice gave testimony to the fact that he was feeling much better, and Meleth allowed it of him to sit in such a way while he took his water and tea. It was not long before the man found his words to return to him, and he asked after Gilwen, though his mother assured him that she was well and resting, and his sister was with her. And with a questioning look from his mother, the man recounted in much calmer detail the events of the morning, and how he had come to be so ill. Meleth comforted him.
After a long while, Faeldor requested to wash up and change into fresh clothing, and Meleth helped him to stand. Though the man was not fully recovered, and still felt a bit weak, he was quite fine to walk on his own, and his mother eyed him as he grasped the railing of the stairway, and slowly made his way, and while he was sufficiently at the top, she returned to the kitchen to finish with her once forgotten dough.
Faeldor of course heard the voices coming down the hall from his sister’s bedroom, though his doorway was the first in the hall at the top of the stairs, and he made his way to his own bedchamber before searching out the voices. The fresh water in the washbasin was welcomed on his skin, and he made way to his wardrobe to find fresh clothing; black breeches, and a shirt of light blue. He eyed his tunics for a moment, though decided he did not wish for the extra heat of all the cloth, and simply tucked his shirt in before moving slowly barefoot down the hallway to Narbeleth’s chamber.
The man would have stood in the doorway for a time to watch such a sight as he saw; with all, or at least most, of his siblings scattered about Gilwen on the bed. Though, he was still rather fatigued, and instead simply entered, going to the beside. There was certainly no room left for him to sit down near Gilwen, what with the children crowding about her, so the man scooted himself upon the bed beside the eldest of his sisters present.
“You look better,” Narbeleth said quietly, reaching to straighten the fabric of his shoulders. “I feel better,” Faeldor answered, smiling slightly at her, and then looking to Gilwen. Beleth fussed with her brother’s shirt for a moment, though was a bit relieved. He had seemed so ill. Faeldor lent Narbeleth a one armed embrace to still her fussing, and his sister allowed it, making no move to release herself.
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Gilwen
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There are times when silence has the loudest voice.[Mo0:0]
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Post by Gilwen on Dec 27, 2009 22:30:46 GMT -5
Conversation had surrounded her as she sat resting upon Narbeleth’s bed. Gilwen had needed to say very little to anyone, and this eased her quiet spirit greatly. Instead, she had listened as the children told her stories of things that had happened around the house as of late, and held little Eoric closely against her; the only child that had the mind to sit still.
There was so much life here, now. The way the children all seemed to wiggle about the bed had been enough to cause Gilwen to realize it. And she welcomed it greatly: children were a blessed distraction. And their smiles! Their light hearts seemed to work on hers.
There was a movement by the doorway, and Gilwen’s eyes rose to see Faeldor standing in the doorway himself. Her brow frowned lightly as she studied him, and while his freshness was evident, and his skin did not look so flushed and sickly now, something about him still seemed weakened. Nonetheless, she said nothing to draw attention to him, but let him cross to the bed in silence and sit upon the end of it. The bed was certainly full now.
Gilwen pulled Eoric closer, though her eyes had not strayed from Faeldor since his entrance. She wished to move to him and sit beside him; she longed for his closeness still. Nonetheless, she did not wish to cause him discomfort, nor crowd him. So instead, she occupied herself with a sleepy-eyed toddler in her arms.
She sighed slightly, a relief within the wearied sound. He was well. Oh, thank Eru that Faeldor was well. The children did still fidget about her, and perhaps Gilwen was even more thankful that Eoric was neither fussing nor squirming himself. Though, it all made for a wonderful distraction.
And she let it distract her for a time.
Finally the woman could not keep herself so distanced from Faeldor anymore. It was an inner draw, and the woman had been thus far able to at least somewhat keep at bay. Still, she did not move nearer and instead, her voice sought to close the distance herself. “Fael…” A quiet murmur above the hum of the children’s voices, but nonetheless efficient. “Thank Eru. I was worried.”
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Faeldor
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Do we walk in legends or on the green earth in the daylight?[Mo0:1]
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Post by Faeldor on Dec 28, 2009 13:06:57 GMT -5
“Fael… Thank Eru. I was worried.”
The man gave Gilwen a light smile. “I know.” He supposed there was no arguing with her about worry, for indeed, he must have caused quite a stir. He did not remember entirely of the things that had ensued between when they entered the house, and when he came from his daze on the sofa, other than telling his mother what had happened, and feeling rather ill.
“I should have known you would follow the voices up here as soon as you could.” Narbeleth mussed with the man’s shirt again. “Perhaps it’s best that this wild gang gives you more time to rest though.”
Faeldor leaned close to his sister to whisper. “What of Miriel?” For he knew that she had of late been spending much time in this room… if she were to come in and find Gilwen here…
“She was here for a time when we came in… then she left. Not a word out of her though.”
“Hm…” Faeldor said thoughtfully. Well at least his sister had shown some manners, it was certain. He glanced to Gilwen once more. Even with little Eoric against her, and the other children surrounding her, her face was still taught, and her eyes anxious. However, Narbeleth was curled against his side as well. She had been just as anxious as the other woman, though not allowed to let it show, for she had needed to care for Gilwen. Faeldor noted her distress, and was consoled that he had gotten up as quickly as he had. He hated to see his lighthearted sister downcast in such a way.
The children were quiet for a moment, seeming to notice their elder sister’s distress just now. Faeldor looked to Gilwen, and then to Narbeleth. “Let us go downstairs,” he decided. If Miriel were to walk into the room, he could not count on her acting maturely twice in one day.
The young woman nodded, pulling herself away from her brother’s arm, and standing.
Faeldor watched his sister. Her face was still drawn, until Faelon offered; “You have flour in your hair.”
“And on your cheek,” Faeldor added, smiling slightly, as Narbeleth spun to the full length mirror in the corner to see. “Her baking is as fine as Mother’s, yet at the end of it, her appearance is usually something to be reckoned with,” the man teased lightly. “The palace could never hire her to work in the kitchens as Mother and Miriel, for it would require the full time duty of two serving ladies to follow her about and clean the flour trail behind her.
“Fael, you are not one to talk… You put this household through more laundry than any one person living here. If men wore aprons, you would be the one to need one,” she retorted. “Why… Mama should make it a requirement for you.” As she spoke she was brushing at the white powder in her black hair, and feeling quite recovered from her morose state.
The Stablemaster smiled to himself, his mission accomplished. The light banter had set his sister in a finer mood than any soft words from him could have done. He moved to stand, and though Narbeleth was mocking indignance with him, she quickly took to his side to help him. “Mari, take the baby,” she instructed to Marileth, who moved to grasp the little bundle of Eoric from Gilwen’s arms.
“Fael would look just fine in an apron,” Faelon laughed, jumping from the bed as well and moving to scoop up Narbeleth’s nightdress, which was hung over the back of a chair. He frolicked over to Faeldor and held it up against his brother’s shirt. “Yes, indeed,” he laughingly winked at Haliel and Diore who were all but doubled over in laughter, rolling on the bed.
“You are quite wrong,” Faeldor retorted, snatching the nightgown from his brother and sending him a faux glare. “I would split this apron at the seams. I need a much larger one. And if I ruined Beleth’s apron, and she had none to wear… well, the world would be at its end, for the flour would suffocate us all…” He tossed the nightgown atop Faelon’s head.
“Faeldor, give me that,” the young woman grasped for her nightdress. “This is not even an apron. You boys know naught what you are speaking of.”
“Maybe you should borrow your apron from the old Captain’s wife next door, Fael. Hers ought to be big enough to fit you,” Faelon continued the teasing.
“Faelon!” Narbeleth chided the boy. “You do not speak in such a way of a lady’s age nor size.” Her eyes were a bit sharp, and Faelon opened his mouth as if to speak, but shut it again when he saw the same look in Faeldor’s eyes. “Come on, we’re all going downstairs now,” she said, shooing the children ahead of her out the room.
Marileth handed Haliel her cane, and then went ahead with Eoric, and Faelon followed glumly behind. Faeldor moved to pick up his little Haliel, but Beleth tugged on his arm. “You are not steady enough yourself,” she reprimanded once more. “Haliel, walk on your own, you are a big girl.” The little girl pouted for a moment before sliding from the bed to go, and Diore followed her.
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Once taken to the sitting room, Narbeleth had helped the man to their grandfather’s old sofa chair. At the bottom of the stair, Faeldor had looped his arm back around Gilwen, and took the petite woman right along with him.
Faeldor glanced lovingly at Gilwen. He was not about to ask her how she was doing in front of all the children, though for the moment she did seem content. He did not wish for her to break down again in front of the others though. She needed no more unpleasantness in her day.
The children were not about to leave Faeldor alone now that he was up, for they were worried that he had been ill, and so as the man sat back in the chair and let Gilwen curl against his side, Faelon pushed up a footstool for him, and then sat on the ground near them. Haliel and Diore leaned on the footstool, as Narbeleth would not let them climb up on the man’s lap. Marileth took a place in the chair beside them, and eventually moved for a moment to hand Eoric back to Gilwen, for the little boy had been fussing and reaching for her the entire time.
Even Narbeleth, found her way to a seat nearby shared with Marileth. “Well, I have plenty of company, I suppose…” Faeldor smiled tiredly.
“Tell us a story,” Diore requested quite spontaneously.
“Well for Eru’s sake,” Meleth laughed slightly as she came in the room; the worry that may have started on her face left her, as she saw Faeldor quite composed and sitting with Gilwen, and the children all surrounding him.
“I was just about to tell a story…” Faeldor mused.
“Well, you do so then, and I will fix you and Gilwen something to eat,” Meleth said, her hand on her heart at the delight of seeing her children all gathered about. Oh, they were such loving children. Her eyes moved up the stairway, where she saw Miriel had come out from the study, and was quietly making her way down. She moved to join her mother in the kitchen, for as much as she would have delighted to sit and hear silly children’s stories with Faeldor and her other siblings, she knew she would feel unwelcome.
“How about a story of a new trio… one who I just did happen to meet this summer,” Faeldor smiled, as he continued on. He winked at Gilwen, though she would have no idea what he was speaking of until he began, and the children gathered around him all the while as he started in, even Narbeleth laughing from time to time.
“It began on a mild summer day, just yonder the Pelennor Fields in the woodlands on the far edge of Gondor. There is a clear river flowing from the mountains… I have been there many times, and so has Narbeleth. Even Gilwen and Marileth have been there once.”
“Oh, might we go too?” Haliel asked.
“Perhaps someday I will take you, when you are a bit bigger. And then you might meet the friends that we met there…”
“Who are your friends?” Diore asked. “Have I met them as well?” Narbeleth added.
“No, I am afraid that they are new to the area. Only Gilwen and I have met them on our last visit. This is the story of grumpy old Master Turtle, and his visit to the fine pool of the Lord and Lady of the Shell…” He smiled happily at Gilwen, knowing just how much she had enjoyed meeting the turtles, yet still not realizing at all how embarrassed she was over the matter.
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Gilwen
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There are times when silence has the loudest voice.[Mo0:0]
Posts: 593
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Post by Gilwen on Jan 3, 2010 16:32:32 GMT -5
Nothing more passed from Faeldor by way of a response than the acknowledgement that he had known he had worried her. Gilwen, though, seemed to not mind in the least and clung to the very idea that he was well again. Nothing could have settled her more than to be near him at that moment, and since that was not yet an option, she thought it best to simply dote upon him from her mind alone.
His voice dropped low as he turned to speak with Narbeleth, and while Gilwen’s eyes remained upon him, she listened once more to the chattering of the children that surrounded her. Certainly, such livelihood was doing the servant a world of good; it was unadulterated happiness that she needed. It seemed to have passed from her in the past few weeks: and someday, Gilwen silently prayed, it would return to her.
For spurts at a time, it did. With Faeldor most often, though even at times with her own mother or perhaps with Faeldor’s family. As soon as they were wed, it would be a constant thing: she would have him always, as he would have her. And Beregar…oh, he wouldn’t dare utter foul things against his own son-in-law. No, his mood would mend for the end of rumors and disgraceful lies that had circulated. It was what she needed. It was what she wanted.
Her pensive mood had thickened, and Gilwen had hardly noticed how quiet and still she had become until she heard Faeldor declare, “Let us go downstairs.” It was then everything seemed to come back to her; the children were still crowded about her on the bed, though it seemed instantly there was a slow move to make their way out of the room.
Though, Narbeleth’s appearance sparked a rather light and cheery conversation betwixt the members of the House of Faelon, and Gilwen slowly found herself smiling along with them.
“The palace could never hire her to work in the kitchens as Mother and Miriel, for it would require the full time duty of two serving ladies to follow her about and clean the flour trail behind her.”
That caused the young woman to laugh ever so quietly as she let the other children move from the bed before her. As a cleaning lady herself, Gilwen could see her very self in that role: a blessing it would be as a change of pace from the lye water. She imagined for a moment that there were a few women who would desire such a position: at least it was a way to keep wages. Nonetheless, the picture was quite humorous.
“Fael, you are not one to talk… You put this household through more laundry than any one person living here. If men wore aprons, you would be the one to need one. Why… Mama should make it a requirement for you.”
Gilwen certainly giggled, beside her better judgment. Just the thought of a man such as Faeldor keeping himself to an apron was overbearingly absurd; he was far too much of a man to ever do such a thing, after all. Though, with quiet musing eyes she watched and studied him. He was, now that she thought on it, a bit messy of dress at times. Not that he did not star out well kept in the morn. When he picked her up, he was in quite a fine state most of the time. It was by evening that he wore stains upon his shirt, perhaps more from carelessness than Gilwen realized. No matter, she mused. She could handle such laundry, when the time came for it.
Marileth swept baby Eoric from her arms, and while Gilwen almost protested, she did not do so. Instead, she swung her legs over side the bed and began to rise. Though, as she stood, it seemed Beleth’s nightdress was taken up by the two gentlemen of the house, and it certainly sparked more laughs from the family.
They trailed down stairs. Some were quicker, like the littler ones. Others seemed to be going agreeably slow. Gilwen herself held a rather careful pace, though it was more from her want to keep a careful eye on her stable master that kept her so. He was well steadied with Beleth, she was cure. But it did not hurt to have an extra pair of eyes on him. They reached the bottom of the steps, and Gilwen’s closeness and lingering had to have been noticed, for Faeldor immediately hooked his arm about her waist.
It was a blessed comfort, and inwardly the woman sighed, though afterward did worry for a moment she should not be so close to him: he was still ill, she was certain. Even if he was feeling better.
He pulled her to the big armchair, though, and the feeling of him beside her set her at ease. The sun did not shine brightly in their sitting room as it did upon the fields, he would be well cooled here. She pressed herself against him ever so slightly, though perhaps subconsciously. She felt safe again.
Eoric wriggled in Marileth’s arms, and it finally seemed the young girl had had enough of it and delicately gifted the baby back to Gilwen, who eagerly pulled him close once more. This all felt wondrous: Faeldor beside her, and a little baby to hold close. It was as if her heart was contented. A moment, she realized with a small smile, of happiness. And the other children around, too! Gilwen’s heart had quite eased itself now. She felt no tenseness or unhappiness. This moment, it was perfect to her. Even if Faeldor seemed a bit tired.
Though, such perfection soon died away. “Tell us a story.” Four little words that had begun a masterful erosion of Gilwen’s calmness. Meleth came, and then went for food and drink; but it was the story that Faeldor began to tell that startled her cheeks into a bright pink.
At first, she was curious. Though, as the particulars seemed to fall into place, the little thing was simply horrified. “No, I am afraid that they are new to the area. Only Gilwen and I have met them on our last visit. This is the story of grumpy old Master Turtle, and his visit to the fine pool of the Lord and Lady of the Shell…”
Gracious Eru! Her head snapped upward, and she locked eyes with Faeldor’s own of smiling grey. He was certainly amused with himself. She, clearly, wasn’t. She had loved the turtles; that entire day had been a blessing. But this! Did he need recall and retell her childishness to all of the children? She kept her mouth shut, though, and quietly cuddled into Eoric more. Perhaps the children would not notice. Oh, but now she would never hear the end of it from them either.
Such things would haunt her for the rest of her days.
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