Gilwen
Man
servant
There are times when silence has the loudest voice.[Mo0:0]
Posts: 593
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Post by Gilwen on Mar 9, 2010 0:58:08 GMT -5
She turned once more, arms crossed determinedly across her chest, brown eyes flicking from the door to the window with what had become a rote assessment. The wooden door was locked, and Gilwen could clearly not escape the confines of her room that way.
“You, Gilwen, are not going anywhere this eve.” The words seemed to echo in her mind, the forceful tone that her father had used irritating and aggravating the her very core to the point of desperation.
She had pleaded desperately that she had worked hard enough to take the evening to her own liking, and even tried to use the day itself to persuade the stubborn man otherwise. The only thing she had heard in response was, “The best birthday gift I can give you, Gilwen, is keeping you from ruining this year, too.”
No words had been able to stop the force of will that had brought him to lock her in the confines of her closet-size room. And it was there she still stood and paced, a steady determination gnawing at her heart.
“I will see you tonight, Starlight. You shall have an evening you deserve.”
Those words and the smiling silver eyes, and gentle smile had given her so much desire to simply rebel against her father. The sun was beginning wane, and Gilwen was getting desperate. Faeldor would soon be at her door to collect her, and even if she had to go without her father’s blessing, she was going to spend her birthday evening with her Horse Master. Her heart needed it.
She stood still, her brown eyes resting critically on her small window. It was small, but so was she. Brisk steps brought her to the sill, and she laid two hands delicately on the pane and the latch. She could swing this open to get free. She had to try.
A hurried look was tossed over her shoulder toward the locked door, though she doubted it was truly necessary. There was no way Beregar would come through that door now. He thought her well contained! He feared a wild daughter, but this was truly the wildest thing she had ever done.
A click, and then a slow push brought the window to open. Carefully, Gilwen chewed her bottom lip. This would surely land her worlds of trouble; her father would never forgive this. She pressed her hands against the sill caught with a turmoil. Should she? How could she not? A hand left the sill to find and gather the side of her skirts. A deep breath passed through her, and she slowly began to work her way through the tiny opening she had to work with, thankful for her stature and size. She lifted to her toes, using her knee to prop up and lift her upward.
The window at her other home had been bigger. This pitiful opening was constricting. She grunted slightly, finally having worked her way to be seated, slightly comfortably, upon the sill.
Now, to work her feet around. She swung her legs, and much to her joy felt freedom only moments away. She could not wait. Faeldor had promised a picnic, and surely that meant the planes and the horses.
All that was left to do was drop to her feet and wait. Faeldor would be there shortly. With a little heave she moved to drop herself down, though a sudden pang of fright whisked through her. She felt as if she could not move. But it was of no problem of wills. Truly if she could have wished herself out of her room, she would have bee long gone by then. But this was physical. Something was pulling her.
Her eyes widened. Her laces! Oh, had she snagged them? Gilwen tried to pull away gently once more, and felt the distinct pull again. “By the valar,” she mumbled under her breath. Could nothing on her birthday be simple?
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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 Mar 9, 2010 10:44:28 GMT -5
It seemed that the sun was a hand lower in the sky than when he had first arrived. Lower and lower, it was sinking near the horizon, and surely if they were to leave at this very moment, by the time they actually reached the upper stables, and then returned to the plains, it would be pitch dark. He sighed, wondering what was keeping Gilwen, and wishing he had more time with her already. He had bid her farewell a couple hours ago, after he had walked her home from work. It was a pity she could not take her very own birthday off from work to celebrate.
Well pity it would be. Faeldor tried as much not to find dourness in their situation. He had spent the first months aggrieved that things had not come easier for them, and that so much ill had befalled his lovely Starlight on account of their love. Yet, the past months the man, while not accepting in the least, had attempted a brighter mood, and a greater hope. It could not go on forever like this.
He smiled, thinking that the evening they would have tonight would be a fine celebration indeed. His mother had packed them a fine feast for a meal, which Faeldor had already taken to the stables and packed in a saddlebag. Beyond the normal meal, she had made a small birthday cake, even with flavored icing! And to top it off, they had quite a treat to drink. Certainly the wine bottle would rile Gilwen into a short fury, that Faeldor would even suggest they drink, yet wouldn’t it be surprising to tell her that it was in fact a freshly made bottle of juice!
Though, Faeldor was keen on surprises and could not have simply left it at that. He had more in store than simply a ride and a fine meal. Gilwen knew of the picnic he planned to take her on, yet she would find the other surprises as soon as they made their way back to the stables.
Faeldor was just about to risk all, and take a knock on the door and the possible slamming of the door in his face by Beregar himself. Though, he had not reasoned that he would ask Beregar for Gilwen’s hand again today; as he had just done so the day before, and week by week over the span of nearly two months… well, perhaps if he were to ask in front of Gilwen, it would make more of a difference. The band was already complete; Lord Keann had done a fine job; and Faeldor would simply have to drop by his house to retrieve it. The man’s excitement and hope grew momentarily as he walked toward the house, though as he came to the corner, the very Lady who he was seeking caught his eye. His course of direction turned immediately.
“My, aren’t you turning into a wild one,” Faeldor grinned and muttered quietly. “I believe you have spent too much time around my own family. We are leading you astray!” As much as Faeldor laughed and exclaimed, his voice was quite silent, and he would not draw attention to this dim alley, however he could not resist himself from drawing close to Gilwen and kissing her upon the forehead. He moved to wrap his arms about her and pull her into a quick embrace before they departed, yet as he did so, he felt the very same tug against her as she had, and looked confused.
The man had to bite his lip to hold the laughter within as he realized Gilwen’s predicament. Unable to afford saying anything else, for fear his laughter would escape, he moved to look behind her, and found that her dress laces were caught amidst the notches in the rusted hinges of her window. The Stablemaster only eyed her in amusement for a moment before he set to work, attempting to draw them out, but she had pulled so hard against it, it seemed, that the strings were quite lodged. As her dress was quite old and worn already, the fabric was not holding out well, and the strings were fraying against the sharp edges of metal.
Faeldor reigned in his humor, and managed to speak quietly once more, “I think we’re going to have to rip it,” he said seriously. It had not been his plan to ruin her dress… the man knew that this was the only one she owned aside from her serving dresses, and she would not easily accept his provision, though he could have easily afforded a new one for her. He sighed, trying again to release the strings, to no avail, and waiting for Gilwen’s permission to tear them loose.
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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 Mar 9, 2010 12:49:55 GMT -5
Gilwen’s face contorted to a light frown as she sought to quickly remedy this mess of an escape. Should she struggle and make a noise, her father would certainly come bursting in with all the rage of a storm and pull her back inside, perhaps bolting her window as well as her door. The thought seemed to bid her hurry, though her attempts at freeing herself seemed to be fruitless.
“My, aren’t you turning into a wild one. I believe you have spent too much time around my own family. We are leading you astray!”
Gilwen’s eyes darted upward to see the source that the voice had come from. “Fael,” her heart knew the voice before she saw the form. Despite his jesting words, Gilwen seemed to keep herself under control for the moment. Still, her voice was raised no louder than an urgent whisper. “Papa locked me in, if I wanted to see you I had to…do help me. I am stuck.”
Though for a moment the thought that she was finally sneaking out of a bedroom window set her a slight in distress. She never would have resorted to such measures before!
He wrapped his arms about her and tugged her gently, trying himself to pull her from the sill where she was so uncomfortably stationed. The sun had not even gone down; Gilwen was sure some pair of watchful eyes would see this and report it to her father. A great feeling of dread and nerves welled within her as Faeldor looked about her and found the source of her problem.
“I think we’re going to have to rip it.”
There was no jest in his tone, but Faeldor’s eyes seemed to hold a hint of amusement. The words, though, took some moments to sink into the little servant woman. This was truly her last dress. None had lasted through her time with Faeldor, it seemed. “We can’t,” she said. She did not want to make mention of the direness of keeping this one to him now. He would simply worry, or worse, make plans to gift her a new one.
“Gilwen, who are you talking to?” The voice came in from the sitting room, a powerful and perturbed tone that belonged to Beregar himself.
Gilwen’s heart hammered in her chest. Could she outwardly lie to him? She felt horrible enough that she was perched in mid-escape from her chamber. Could she deal with the guilt of speaking falsely to the man she was bound to honor?
But if she spoke truth, he would surely come in, and both she and Faeldor would be dealt with, and Faeldor could possibly not make it back to his home.
No, it was her birthday. This lovely September night was going to be spent with the man she loved, and not locked away in this room. However, by this point it was too late to reply; the door was unlocking from the outside.
Immediately Gilwen thrust herself forward, and the sound of ripping fabric caused her to grimace, though she managed to rid herself of her captivity, and was now effectively in Faeldor’s arms. “Hurry,” she bid him. She could not stay there.
“Gilwen!” Her father’s booming voice proved that he had entered her room and had seen her escape from the window. His irate expression said it all, and the way his face was slowly turning shades from his fury.
“Get back inside, or so help me I will—“
“I’m sorry, Papa.” Gilwen said, and then took Faeldor’s hand and turned to bolt away. “Please hurry,” she hissed to Faeldor
Her father’s screams were echoing through the street as she led them away, and a part of Gilwen’s heart fell that she had had to disobey him like this.
Another voice joined in the wafting sound, and Gilwen sighed inwardly hearing her mother chide away at her father for leaving Gilwen no other option. While this did not seem to help Beregar’s mood, it had certainly stilled his pursuit. Still, the little lady did not falter in her flight, and was successfully pulling Faeldor along behind her. Once they had gotten what Gilwen deemed was a safe distance away, she sighed and slowed, now taking the time to lament over her dress.
"You know, Fael," she said lowly, though with a slight humor, "my dresses can't seem to last around you." First her formal dress had been soaked with red wine. Then, her serving gown had stained with blood. And now! Now her only remaining dress, aside from the last uniform she owned, was ripped down the back.
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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 Mar 9, 2010 13:58:34 GMT -5
“Papa locked me in, if I wanted to see you I had to…do help me. I am stuck.”
“For Eru’s sake, he locked you in your room?” Certainly, Faeldor had gone to simple measures such as sending his younger sister away to be with family in Belfalas, to protect her from her own self. Perhaps if Beregar had sent Gilwen outside the city, Faeldor would have held some respect for him in that matter; though it certainly would not have kept him from seeking her. But it seemed entirely unrequited to lock her into a small room. She was not an animal to be confined! And on her birthday nonetheless! This was certainly not the way birthdays were celebrated in the House of Faelon. He frowned as he tried to continue working on the strings, even after Gilwen had told him that they must not rip them… though it did seem hopeless.
“Gilwen, who are you talking to?” Faeldor’s eyes widened. “Oh no,” he muttered, staring into the room as he heard the footsteps come closers and the lock rattling on the door. It was almost as if he had frozen. Faeldor was certain that Beregar would come, and Gilwen would grudgingly return inside. Despite the absurdity of locking the woman in her room, Gilwen was very obedient to her disgruntled father, and now the man’s hopes of giving her a lovely evening seemed shot.
Faeldor barely heard the sound of ripping, so much was his focus distracted on the window, and the doorway within that was on the verge of opening. He let out a gasp as Gilwen suddenly fell against him, and his arms instinctively went about her. “Hurry…Please hurry.” She was not against the Stablemaster for more than a second before she grasped his hand and began to pull him with every energy in her little frame, and it only took Faeldor a fraction of a second to follow along with her at her pace. They made their way through the streets quickly, and were almost to the gate of the second tier before Gilwen slowed her pace
"You know, Fael, my dresses can't seem to last around you."
“It simply means that you are becoming one of the family. My sisters cannot manage to keep a dress very long either. Faeldor was smiling all the while. My! The little woman had certainly surprised him! He never would have guessed for her to run away as she had, and though she was a grown adult and should have had all right to leave as she pleased, he was impressed that she had done this.
“Surely though, this can be mended…” Faeldor said, eyeing the back of Gilwen’s dress. He wasn’t sure how well the worn fabric would hold more stitching. And it certainly would not look lovely. He frowned momentarily. His mother, he knew, had purchased fabric for Gilwen along with that for her own girls winter dresses. Faeldor had bid her hold off on making the garment though, knowing that he would have to find good reason to give Gilwen another gift. However, it seemed that when he returned home, he would ask his mother to work on it. Certainly something of the sort would be needed soon.
“Just do not let it fall down on the streets! No unruly man in this city shall see the shoulders of my own Lady. If you can manage until we make it to the sixth tier, we will be fine. You shall not need your dress tonight,” he teased. In truth, it sounded a more audacious comment than it truly was, for Gilwen’s new riding wardrobe awaited her in the Stablemaster’s quarters. It would be both warm, and suited for riding; and she would have no need to worry about her torn dress tonight.
With that, Faeldor had caught his breath, and wrapped his arm about Gilwen’s waist as they proceeded uphill. “I will certainly make sure that you do not regret this evening, my lady of six and twenty. I hope you are hungry,” he mentioned aside, wondering if Gilwen’s parents had managed a birthday supper for her, or if she had been locked in her room since her arrival home. He almost frowned at the gaunt feeling of the woman’s waist. While she had always been thin, she had certainly become moreso over the past months. While Faeldor knew that the house upon the first tier did not cost as much as that had to rent upon the third, he also knew that Gilwen was likely putting as much money aside as she could to eventually move her family back up. At the sake of her own nutrition, it was certain. He smiled at the thought of the cake his mother had packed for them.
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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 Mar 9, 2010 22:45:06 GMT -5
“It simply means that you are becoming one of the family. My sisters cannot manage to keep a dress very long either.”
A wry smile worked its way across her lips and Gilwen flicked her eyes upward to him. “I never had the problem before,” she mused, allowing a hand to drift and adjust the shoulders of her dress to keep her skin covered and herself somewhat comfortable. “If this becomes a habit, I must admit it will grow tiresome quickly.”
He made mention, perhaps as a response to her last statement that it looked as if the fabric could be mended. Gilwen sighed inwardly. Yes, perhaps she could mend it. If it was not too obvious, her hair could hide the horrid stitching it would require. Nonetheless, she was simply concerned about this evening itself; she was supposed to have a nice evening with Faeldor, but now even as she stood motionless it was a constant motion to right her dress to keep her modesty and propriety in tact, and indeed the chill off her skin.
No matter; Faeldor would perhaps lend her a cloak to herself covered rightly. He always seemed eager to do such a thing anyway. It was an evening between the two of them. Gilwen was much looking forward to it.
“If you can manage until we make it to the sixth tier, we will be fine. You shall not need your dress tonight.”
A wild blush tinged her cheeks in the fading sun, and Gilwen gasped slightly. “Faeldor, contain yourself. I am in enough trouble as it is,” she replied almost reflexively. She was quite certain he was making some sort of jest. Perhaps he planned to gift her a tunic once they reached the stables.
His arm wrapped around her waist, and pleasantly the woman leaned in against him. She was certain Beregar would not make it far in an attempt to follow her now, and while she was certain that an uncontained fury would greet her as she walked into her door later that night, right now she was contented to know that it would be worth it for the time spent with her beloved Stable Master.
“I will certainly make sure that you do not regret this evening, my lady of six and twenty. I hope you are hungry.”
Gilwen nodded, though did not speak on the fact she had actually not been gifted dinner earlier by the sheer fact it was one of the days they had had to go without groceries enough for the whole day. She had gotten a hearty breakfast, and even got a snack upon her return home from work. But dinner had been impossible; not that she would have been present for it if they had had it. Gilwen had been locked in her room most of the day. “I am hungry enough,” she smiled slightly. Six and twenty?
Was she really that old now?
A weight pressed on her heart for a moment. Another year. Another year further into her life, and closer to the point, if it had not been passed already, that she could very well be barren.
But what did that matter tonight? Tonight was about her Faeldor. She chased the dour thoughts away and concentrated instead on the warm arm about her and the peace and protection she would have until she returned home. And even then, she would still have his love. He never truly left her.
“I take it Lumiel is ready for her ride?” She asked delicately. Certainly the mare had been in anticipation of tonight; and it would be a task! For indeed, Gilwen and Faeldor would surely ride together atop her. The mare had become close to Gilwen's own heart. She had been there for almost all of Gilwen's grander moments with Faeldor.
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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 Mar 10, 2010 8:57:34 GMT -5
“I never had the problem before. If this becomes a habit, I must admit it will grow tiresome quickly.”
Faeldor looked thoughtful for a moment, then grinned. “Well, perhaps we should have a single dress that you wear each time you do come into contact with me. Then we should only have to mend one dress, over and over again, rather than all your dresses. I fear it is your only choice. Other than not wearing a dress at all…”
“Faeldor, contain yourself. I am in enough trouble as it is.” The man could not contain his laughter at this. His remarks had certainly earned him a rebuke, though he chose not to comment again and leave it be. Better to comment on the fact that Gilwen was already in trouble. Beregar was indeed upset, and he knew that Gilwen would pay for it later, but the way she had utterly defied him. Well… he had no right to lock her in that room, nor did he have right to forbid her to see him. Her defying was well requited. “You are the wild one now aren’t you? I never would have imagined such a stunt to be pulled by my sweet lady. But now… now I know that I must not take for granted your sweet demeanor. For while it is that at most times, there is a rather rebellious undertone to it.”
“I am hungry enough.” The man gave no comment. Surely she was hungry; and though he did not let his face frown, he certainly chided himself for having no way to properly provide for his Gilwen and her family. She did not mention if they had gone without a supper, though on many nights he knew they did. It was not difficult to figure her meager salary against the cost of renting, with no added income. Faeldor squeezed the lady tightly against his side, and dipped his head to kiss her hair, as they walked for a time in comfortable silence.
Finally, Gilwen spoke. “I take it Lumiel is ready for her ride?” Faeldor’s eyes glinted mischievously. “Of course she is ready for her ride,” he gleamed. There had been a few days in the past months, when Gilwen had seemed near faint in exhaustion after leaving the stone palace, and Faeldor had chosen to saddle his mount to take her down. Though, at those times they were never too tired to take a quick ride upon the plains. Faeldor had gifted Narbeleth her own horse nearly two months past when she had departed for Belfalas, and thus this pair had always ridden double. It was a rather comfortable ride, Faeldor mused, which he would certainly miss. Though, to take longer excursions, as he planned to do whenever possible, it would be better for the horses that they ride separate.
However, his plans tonight were not the same as usual. Whatever loveliness could be taken in riding astride with his lady would not happen this eve! It was not only the riding outfit which Faeldor had in mind to gift Gilwen tonight, but a horse of her very own. Thissel’s empty stall was left open for her return, but Gilwen likely would not have noticed that the stall on the opposite side of Lumiel’s had been cleaned and empty now for a few weeks. And empty it still was, for now! They would collect Laerdin from the second tier stable where she had been purchased, on their way back down, and later tonight she would see her new abode.
“Come now, we shall not take our time through the city. Let us make haste, and we will have all the more time to tarry on the plains. Perhaps we will make it for the sunset.” It was certain the Stable master was excited about his gift for Gilwen, yet he thought she would agree. Why should they linger in the city, when the wind on the plains called so urgently. Faeldor stopped for a moment to pull at the back of Gilwen’s dress, which seemed to be slipping again, and then took her arm. While she was not wearing her cloak to warm her, it was certainly the man’s urge to hold her against his side the whole while. Yet, the quick pace would certainly keep her warm, and no sooner than they reached the stables, he would have her dressed from head to toe in garment warm and soft against the cool September winds.
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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 Mar 10, 2010 10:50:03 GMT -5
“You are the wild one now aren’t you? I never would have imagined such a stunt to be pulled by my sweet lady.”
Gilwen frowned for a moment, though the expression was fleeting. “I never would have imagined having to do such a thing. I just…I wanted to see you.” Beregar had been a little irrational anyway, she reasoned with herself. Still, now he would be more so when she returned.
“My want to see you,” she added quietly, “must have really outweighed my obedience to my Papa.”
The arm around her waist tightened for a moment, and Gilwen felt a swell of security rise within her. The evening was lovely, and despite the manner in which it began, and certainly even that they would both grow to laugh at, and the way it would probably end. Gilwen released her thoughts on the matter forcefully, though the sweet kiss that Faeldor buried into her hair was a well-timed distraction, and from her place tucked against his side she smiled.
A comfortable silence fell over them. It was not something that Gilwen minded, and indeed it appeared neither did her Horse Master. It was amazing to her the transformation she had seen in him since the time they had first met, or indeed herself. He was surely more comfortable with quiet lulls in conversation now; a trait, she assumed, he had learned from her. And Gilwen herself had grown slightly, though still noticeably, more comfortable with speaking. Even if it only was with her beloved.
“Come now, we shall not take our time through the city. Let us make haste, and we will have all the more time to tarry on the plains. Perhaps we will make it for the sunset.”
He adjusted her sleeve, and Gilwen felt a tinge of pink on her cheeks for the sheer embarrassment of being seen in the street in a mess such as this. People were still on their way home from their work, and the streets were not empty. Certainly someone would notice her state of disrepair. Nonetheless, the pace was quickened and Gilwen had no more time to worry on her dress, only on how her strides cold match his, and how quickly they could get there. Indeed, despite her calm and gentle demeanor, the fact that everything she was doing this evening with Faeldor was forbidden merely made her heart hum all the faster with a sort of excitement.
They climbed all the way to the sixth tier, her dress only offering her slight problems along the way. She was sure that now she would be fine. Surely it would take Faeldor a little time to ready Lumiel and perhaps check in with the stable lads that kept the night shift. And in that time, if her father should come seek her here, she would be in the stables with him. Faeldor was respectful to her father, and Gilwen never ceased to thank the Valar that he could be so patient sometimes, though if her father dared take her here, Gilwen was certain Faeldor would use his authority in this place to keep her.
There was a warm glow from the lamps inside, inviting them both to enter. Not that either of the two would need such encouragement. The stables were a second home to her, now. They had been a place of rest since the month after she had begun slaving away as a workhand in the palace. And now, they were still a treasure to her.
Faeldor could let the plans for picnic go, stay there and let her brush the horse’s noses and Gilwen would have deemed it the grandest birthday eve to have ever passed for her. Not that Faeldor would do something so simple. He had a way of trying to be grand in his affections.
Their pace slightly slowed as they reached the door, and Gilwen took a moment to adjust her dress once more before entering. She was always extra careful about the stables; the rumors certainly must have reached them, Durion was here every morning and evening to ready and put away his mount. She did not wish to bring any hint of truth to the people here. And so far it must have worked, they all remained respectful of her.
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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 Mar 10, 2010 14:37:31 GMT -5
“I wanted to see you as well,” Faeldor smiled. He chose not to comment again on her lack of obedience to her father. Faeldor was not one to tolerate lack of obedience in his own siblings… then again, his siblings were all much younger than Gilwen. Even the eldest of his siblings, Miriel and Narbeleth, who were adults themselves, were quite less mature. Gilwen was a grown woman, and the provider for her family. Some respect should be granted her for that. Locking your grown daughter in her room to override her decisions and desires was not respect.
All the way to the stables they went, and the familiar scent of horses and straw fell over them. The Calvary had already returned from training a few hours earlier, and though all the lamps were lit, there were few men about. Most of those were stablehands of the later shift cleaning stalls, brushing horses, and doing the various organizational things that must be done each evening to keep the stable running.
A few of Minas Tirith’s upperhand citizens who also stabled their horses amidst the Steward’s stable were returning from short evening rides. It was likely only Gilwen and Faeldor who were wont to set out still, for most did not take as much pleasure in an evening ride. Galloping upon the plains in the evening was not an option for the true horseman, who knew the danger of a horse foundering on unseen ground. Faeldor lamented slightly that Gilwen would not be able to test the speed of her new mount this evening. Though surely it would be a promise to take her riding again in the daytime.
The Stablemaster noted that the lady adjusted her dress once more as they entered the stables. She was always very careful of herself here, and with the other men present, he knew it would be a trying matter to get the woman into his quarters for her gifted wardrobe. It was true he had heard nothing by way of rumor in the stables, save Durion’s comments which would happen as often as the man ran his mouth. Though Faeldor was well respected, and the men who knew Durion were not to mind things that he would say. Mere woman’s gossip was not something a true man would partake in.
As she pulled at her sleeve again though, he came across an idea. “Perhaps I have something in my quarters that could make a quick mend of that dress,” he suggested, hoping that she would assume he meant a needle and thread. A few simple stitches could at least mend the dress enough for the evening excursion. However, he could not hold his surprise any longer, and as he pulled the woman lightly by the hand and stood in the doorway of his quarters, he did not even make excuse to rummage through his desk drawer for the thread.
“Aha, this shall do to keep you well covered,” he gleamed, motioning to a folded pile of clothing upon the end of his bed. “I must make sure my Lady is warm while riding in these late months of the year.” With that, Faeldor pressed a kiss to her temple, and turned to light the lamp for her, and leave the room. “Do change quickly. I shall ready Lumiel,” he hummed pleasantly. He began to duck out of the room, but then turned again, “And bring your other garments with you when you’ve finished. I shall not leave them in here again. The last thing I need is my stablehands to enter my quarters and find a pile of lady’s things as they did last time,” he chuckled, recalling the eve of the Midsummer’s ball.
Folded neatly in the pile on the bed was a linen shirt of light blue, and brown woolen leggings, thick enough to be worn beneath a garment in the winter and keep the chill from Gilwen’s slight frame. To go overtop was a very simple sleeveless riding dress of light brown, with a split seam up the front to allow for proper movement atop the horse. And to even go atop that layer was a thick doublet, of the softest wool. It was cut in a lady’s fashion, and laced in front down to waist with a brown cord, where there it split and fell a bit past the hips. Atop the pile was a brown leather belt, the buckle made of polished brass, and a pair of leather gloves, and beside the bed sat a new pair of boots, a deep brown, yet leather which had been softened well and would also do for warmth, and laid across the top of them, a new pair of woolen socks.
Last, was long coat of the same deep brown fabric as the doublet, which had an inner liner of silk, and was edged with fur at the hem, sleeves, and hood. It was fitted snugly in the bodice, though loosened as it passed the hips, and fell to mid calf in the front, and almost to the ankles behind. Brass buttons closed it, and each was caved with a lovely details, while the largest clasp at the top was engraved the tree of Gondor, and the seven stars above.
Certainly Faeldor had not outdone himself. The fabric of most of the outfit had been that which his mother and grandmother already possessed, and they had been glad to sew it as they sat in the sitting room or the garden in the evenings. The coat and the gloves though, Faeldor had purchased from a tailor in town. In fact, he had purchased two of the very same sets, only the second was sewn in hews of deep grey, and had it wrapped in a brown paper. It had already been packed away in one of his saddle bags, and when he took Gilwen to her home late that night, he would give it to her, as a gift to her mother.
Faeldor had reasoned a long while over that thin grey cloak which Gilwen owned. Certainly her mother’s would be in no better repair. He did not want to overstep his boundaries, but it seemed the least that Faeldor could do, to attempt to provide for her family. It was sensible. Winter was nearing, and Gilwen was cold often enough even in the summer. He would hate to think of her shivering in the winter. Her mother was of very similar physique, and she thought, likely in the same need of warmth. Certainly to gift her a coat though on her daughter’s birthday would not be too much. After all, Faeldor was very much in love with her daughter, and Niniel was the very woman who had brought his dear Gilwen into the world.
The horseman continued to reason with himself as he moved quickly out of the room, shutting the door behind him, and readied Lumiel. It did not take him long, and he retrieved his own riding cloak from the horses stall. Then taking the horse down to the exit of the stable, near his quarters, he waited for Gilwen to return to him.
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Gilwen
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Post by Gilwen on Mar 10, 2010 23:50:21 GMT -5
“Perhaps I have something in my quarters that could make a quick mend of that dress.”
Gilwen looked up to him and nodded, “It would do me well to try and keep the dress together for the night.” Truly it would be unbecoming for a woman to gallivant through the city dressed in such disrepair that it looked as if she were a woman of the street.
Faeldor tugged her toward his quarters, and inwardly Gilwen’s nerves tensed. It was often their visits led her to be in the room with him; the stable hands certainly had grown used to it. Whether they were suspicious or not of the fact Faeldor always shut the door, she did not know. But here, no words ever got back to her.
And the hands were well minding their own this eve, only a few stray eyes found them as they made there way, and none of the weight lingered upon her. They must have turned their attention away quickly.
They finally reached the door, and with her free hand, she adjusted her sleeve again. The sooner it was righted, the better. They cold be on their way. Oh, if she took too much time to sew, they would miss the sunset!
The door was pushed open, and Gilwen paid no mind to the fabric at the end of Faeldor’s bed. It looked s much like a bundled blanket as anything else, and she turned her attention to the drawers. But Faeldor directed her attention right back to the bed.
“Aha, this shall do to keep you well covered.”
A blanket?
No.
She gasped.
“I must make sure my Lady is warm while riding in these late months of the year.”
His lilt was proud, certainly. Immediately Gilwen looked up to him, “Fael! It’s…” Too much? The light shining in his eyes was enough for Gilwen to see that he was indeed very proud he had gifted her something so grand. Who was she to disrupt such things? “It’s lovely,” she finished, slowly beginning to smile herself.
“Thank you.”
“And bring your other garments with you when you’ve finished. I shall not leave them in here again. The last thing I need is my stablehands to enter my quarters and find a pile of lady’s things as they did last time.”
He chuckled and left, Gilwen remained with a red and embarrassed flush to her face. Heavens! Those clothes had certainly not looked chaste, she was certain.
She moved over to the clothes, fingering everything with delicate fingers. Oh, he had surely outdone himself. With one last look over her shoulder, she bit her lip and smiled childishly, finally beginning to undress herself.
--
She emerged later; for all the fabric and dress she had managed to get ready quickly enough. Her clothes were bundled beneath her arm, and she was looking quite well composed and warm. It was certainly a lovely outfit Faeldor had gifted her. She was all but beaming as her eyes sought him out amongst the stables. She worked her way down to Lumiel’s stall, peering over as he finished everything.
“I finished,” she announced lowly, though perhaps happily. She felt somewhat like a princess the way she had been gifted such lavish wear. It was certainly nicer than anything she could have afforded on her own, even if all members of her household had a job.
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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 Mar 11, 2010 11:41:07 GMT -5
Faeldor grinned as the lady approached him. “Well, you look fine indeed. I know perhaps it is still a bit warm for the gloves and the coat. You need not wear them now if you are too hot. But the cooler months are coming, and it should be useful,” he reasoned aloud. It was not simply for the sake of vanity that he wished Gilwen to own such clothing; but for the fact that if he could keep the lady warm and dry in the coming months, he certainly would. And if his gift seemed extravagant, it was only for the sake that once he had started to gather the items necessary, they only had added up. What was the sake of giving one a riding dress, if she did not have the woolen pantalets to wear beneath it. And if that was not to keep her warm enough, what use was the gift without a coat? And even if her arms and body could stay quite snug with the coat; her feet would surely be damp and cold in her old shoes, and worn stockings.
Throughout such reasonings as he had gathered the woman’s gift for her, the difference in their classes and lifestyles were quite well noticeable. To think now that Gilwen’s only dress in good repair was her one remaining serving dress saddened him slightly. Faeldor had never thought to worry about clothing, for if he ruined something, he could simply go to his closet and take a clean shirt or pants. He had never been without a warm cloak or boots in all his life. It was certainly troubling to think that Gilwen had to worry about such things as food, shelter, and clothing.
“Do the boots fit well?” he asked, as he led Lumiel out to the edge of the stable, and collected the garments and shoes that Gilwen held in her arms, to pack them in his saddle bag. At that, he turned and looked upon Gilwen quietly for a moment, his hands coming to grip on her upper arms. A glance about told him that there were others still in the hall, and he refrained from kissing the lady. In just a few moments they would be sitting closely upon the saddle of Lumiel, and he could wait for that.
He nearly lifted the lady upon the saddle, only allowing her to pull herself up slightly and after she had adjusted her skirts, Faeldor pulled himself up behind her. His smile was evident as he pulled Gilwen to rest back against him, and snugly placed his arm about her as he had done many times before. “I am quite certain that this is my favorite way to ride…” he commented aloud, morose in his thoughts that this evening they would only ride this way a short time. The second tier stables would not be a long time coming. Though, his morose thoughts only lingered for a moment when he thought of the true gift he would be giving Gilwen there. The clothing was for the sake of warmth and a perfectly reasonable thing. Yet; the horse. Well, that was simply for the sake of true joy. He could not wait to see the look upon her face when she took her to the mare and lifted her up to her very own saddle. Faeldor almost bit his lip, and was rather quiet as they set off through the tier, in his anxious anticipation.
It was not a long ride to the second tier. Faeldor was torn between taking his time so that he might have a longer ride with Gilwen, and hurrying, that they might have a longer time upon the plains; though, he decided that it was quite selfish of himself on Gilwen’s birthday to keep her longer from her present. He sped Lumiel slightly, and at the same time pressed a kiss to the woman’s hair. ---
“We need to stop at the stables here shortly, dear,” Faeldor muttered, as he slowed Lumiel upon the second tier, perhaps a quarter of an hour later. If he said too much, he would certainly reveal himself, so the man kept quiet; though Gilwen was certain not to question; she knew he kept in close communication with the Stablemasters of the lower tiers.
“Ah, Master Faeldor, I was not certain you would stop by,” the stablehand greeted him as they entered, and he dismounted, reaching up to help Gilwen down as well. “Here, follow me,” he winked at the man.
Faeldor followed, taking Gilwen by the hand. He did not hold Lumiel’s rein, but she followed obediently behind her master. “Of course, I could not forget,” he smiled, squeezing Gilwen’s hand. “Thank you,” he added, as the stable hand stopped him in front of a particular stall. “And for readying her as well.”
“Gilwen, stay here a moment,” Faeldor said, his face brimming in smile as he released her hand and said a few more words to the stable hand, then made his way into the stall, speaking softly to the horse within, and soon leading her out into the hall.
The young mare was beautiful; the lightest grey in color, that she was nearly white, save for a darker grey on the end of her nose and her legs, yet with the blackest mane and tail. Her eyelashes were long, and she nickered lightly as Faeldor stopped her and spoke to her again; making sure she was completely calm. The Stablemaster, a great lover of horses could only smile at the beautiful temperament of this young horse as she gently pressed her muzzle against his riding tunic, and sighed, then let another soft nicker escape.
Though Faeldor had spent quite a time with this horse already, and ridden her out to the plains more than once, she passed the final inspection, and he was certain she would be safe and gentle for his dear Gilwen. With that thought, he turned back to the lady. “Come over here,” he said lightly. “This is Laerdin, Silent Song.” He waited for her approach. “She is a foal by the same stallion of Lumiel and Thissel, three years old.”
He took a breath, and smiled grandly. “I named her for you, and she is yours. Happy birthday, my Starlight.”
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Gilwen
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Post by Gilwen on Mar 12, 2010 0:27:01 GMT -5
Gilwen could see it in Faeldor’s very face; he was entirely proud of the outfit he had put together for her, and in fact the lady felt quite womanly and lovely in it. Despite herself, she was awed by the style and the lavishness of the riding dress and coat. Nothing of the sort had ever been in her wardrobe before.
“Do the boots fit well?”
Gilwen looked downward, toward the toes of her boots that were still somewhat visible under her skirt for the length it was tailored to and wriggled her toes slightly. “Yes, quite well.” She had imagined upon seeing the boots that they would be too large, though as soon as she had slipped them on they had been a nice fit. Momentarily she wondered how he had known what size to get her.
Had her mother had something to do with it? The musing did not last long, however, for Faeldor reached for the saddle bag and warmly grabbed her upper arm. They locked eyes a moment, and for a moment it was as if Gilwen could feel the desire from both she and Faeldor to kiss her, though he glanced around and must have judged that too many eyes were still upon them, and instead turned and lifted her into the saddle, and climbed up behind.
Gilwen herself was slightly saddened by it, though thankful he had paid careful mind to his work hands. It was oft it did seem that Faeldor let his passions and desires drive him more than they should. And while they never went too far, it was common that Gilwen thought the timing of his displays left something to be desired.
She felt his arm wrap about her, and a part of her smiled inwardly and sighed. “I am quite certain that this is my favorite way to ride…” She did not return the comment; the way she leaned in against him was enough to let him know she enjoyed it herself. It did not look promiscuous for a woman to sit with a man upon a horse in a way such as that. Any gentleman would do such a thing if there was only a single horse. She felt safe. Her two favorite things, horses and her horse master. Gilwen was utterly contented.
They took off and worked their way slowly down the street, and fleetingly Gilwen watched as the city buzzed and quieted around her. It was a brisk night, the autumn temperatures beginning to overtake Gondor in the sun’s absence.
She was thankful for the new dress, though did not say such a thing aloud. Faeldor did not need to think she took poor care of herself. Not anymore than he already pitied her and wished to provide.
“We need to stop at the stables here shortly, dear.”
It was the first words that had been spoken in a while, and Gilwen looked up to him surprised before nodding. She would never protest such a thing. After all, it was possible the stable master of the second tier needed his help with something. Faeldor was very devoted to his job; he took pride in the way he handled himself in his position, and Gilwen did as well.
Faeldor dismounted, and reached up to fetch her as well as a joyful looking man came forward to greet the horse master. He had a kind face, certainly, and Gilwen offered a shy but kind smile to him. Something within his eye was gleaming in excitement, and for a moment Gilwen was certain she saw it flicker in her beloved’s eye as well. Whatever could he have stopped for?
Curiously she followed, though had no other choice with the way Faeldor had reached for her hand. Faeldor thanked the man, though it seemed rather cryptic to the woman he was with. Gilwen frowned lightly as she looked toward him. Something was clearly amiss, and she was utterly confused.
“Gilwen, stay here a moment.”
Odd, she thought as she allowed him to release her hand and move off into a stall. He seemed to have worn a bright expression; it was the happiest she had ever seen him when he was called to work. Something about it felt strange.
It was not but a few moments before he emerged from the stall with a lovely mare. Gilwen’s breath was instantly stolen. The grey color of her coat seemed to glow white against the candlelight of the lanterns, and the dark eyes jeweled upon the mare’s face were deep, bright and intelligent. The contrast of the dark mane against the light coat certainly looked dainty and mysterious. A lovely mount, by no mistake.
“Come over here. This is Laerdin, Silent Song. She is a foal by the same stallion of Lumiel and Thissel, three years old.”
Immediately Gilwen obeyed, eyes shining at the new horse, a hand gently raising to stroke the mare’s velvety nose. Had he borrowed a horse for the evening? Oh, she would certainly feel as a princess astride this mare! She was lovely indeed.
“I named her for you, and she is yours. Happy birthday, my Starlight.”
Immediately the woman gasped, her fingers stilling their gentle motion on the horse’s nose, though it only took moments before the words sunk in. “For me?” She said breathlessly. “Fael…” The little woman was beaming. The very skin upon her cheeks seemed to glow, and her eyes held enough light to rival the night sky. “She is beautiful! You needn’t have done such a thing,” Gilwen was giggling girlishly, gently stroking the horse’s neck, unable to truly contain or hide her joy.
Indeed, she did not even know how to begin to display her utter elation at his gift to her. “She is stunning, Fael!” She danced her way closer to the mare, and the horse seemed quite fine, even with Giwlen’s childish demeanor taking over. “I have never had a horse of my own,” she half laughed to Faeldor. “Though, for the past twenty years I have desired one.”
Laerdin nuzzled against the front of Gilwen’s dress, and it seemed a natural reaction that the little woman threw her arms about the horse’s neck. She lingered there for a moment, though promptly turned once more and threw her arms about Faeldor’s neck, girlishly placing a kiss lightly upon his cheek. “Thank you!” She sang again, releasing him and turning her attention back to the lovely mount. A gorgeous mare, her Laerdin!
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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 Mar 12, 2010 11:59:12 GMT -5
“For me? Fael… She is beautiful! You needn’t have done such a thing.”
Where Gilwen had been quite reserved upon the entire ride here, and still quiet as they entered the stables, it seemed now that she was speaking faster than he had heard her… well… ever. Her little body had become a flutter of motion as she danced about the horse. ”She is stunning, Fael! I have never had a horse of my own. Though, for the past twenty years I have desired one.”
“It seems then, if you have desired one for so long, that you certainly deserve one for your own. It was perhaps the first thing that you told me when we met, that you adored horses but did not own one. And if you would wish to spend any more time with this Stablemaster, then I am certain that owning a horse will do you well.” He mused for a moment that Lumiel would approve to not having to carry two riders at once, and as if he had summoned the horse by thought, her dark nose pressed into the back of his shoulder.
“Now come, girl,” he said to the horse, laughingly, as he stroked her nose. “I know now that you will warrant less attentions from her, but you will be too old soon to carry us double all the time; and this way we might freely gallop across the plain.” He looked back to Gilwen, who had thrown her arms about Laerdin’s neck. “Though I admit that I am somewhat jealous of all the attention elsewhere as well. But, it is her birthday and we must not be selfish,” he said aloud; the second time he had warranted the phrase this day. He grinned back at Gilwen as she came to him to hug and kiss him, and Faeldor moved to wrap his arms about her and return the gesture; though she had flitted away again just as quickly and left him stunned and laughing. He leaned against Lumiel. Certainly, to watch Gilwen here was finer than any sunset that they might miss did they not set out again right away. Her face was so radiant and both her movement and features joyous! She had not laughed in such a way since…well, perhaps since the Ball! His own birthday had been nearly three months ago!
The other stable master, who was standing nearby certainly had the same appreciation for those riders who adored their horses, and moved nearer. “I would say you picked a fine match for that Lady,” he said, smiling and crossing his arms affront of him.
“Are you speaking of the Horse or the Woman?” Faeldor asked, his eyes laughing.
“Both, it seems,” the man laughed aloud. The mare was one of the finest, and the lady, well, she was quite stunning as well! How excited and lit up she seemed. This stable master had never seen her before, though it was certain that Faeldor had found a gem among the daughters of Gondor.
“Well, I have been eyeing her since a filly. With that beauty and temperament she would have ended up as the mount of some counselor or advisor to the Steward, or even perhaps one of the Captains,” Faeldor answered. Then pausing for a moment, he continued, “And as for the woman, I could say the same for beauty and temperament.” He laughed, to be using the same wording that men would use to compare horses. He had once jested with Gilwen about the fact that his mother had teased him for years about marrying one of the pretty creatures.
“Though, I have only had my eye on her since late spring. Where Laerdin could have easily ended up a Captain’s mount, if one had sought after her, I can very well say that I would never relent this Lady to another,” his tone was serious, yet then turned jovial and light. While most of what had been said had certainly been within Gilwen’s hearing, if she had even been paying attention, the last was lower. “Of course you and your wife will receive a wedding invitation!” The smile in Faeldor’s eyes was unmistakable.
The stable master laughed loudly, clapping Faeldor on the back. “We’ll be awaiting it then, I assure you! Now then, enjoy your evening. Since you mentioned the wife, you reminded me that I must be seeing myself home. She says that sometimes I get lost in this maze of horses,” he laughed again, motioning an arm to the stable around him. “She usually says it as she hands me a cold plate of supper, with no desert,” he mused, his eyes twinkling. At that, Faeldor waved him farewell, and set his eyes back upon Gilwen and Laerdin. Soon enough, he had left Lumiel’s side, and moved back to his Lady, satisfying himself with embracing her from behind as she gave her attentions to the horse.
“This is the last she will be in these stables. Tonight I will set her in the open stall by Lumiel’s. It would be nice to have her down here closer to you, but… well, I am simply afraid that you would go wander upon the streets of the first tier without me to come and see her.” He slid his hands from the woman and turned to check the saddle and bridle to see that they were properly positioned.
“Well, dove,” he started, making his way around the horse and checking her from the other side. “Would you like to try her?” He moved to lift Gilwen to the saddle. “Perhaps we can still make it to the Pelennor before dark and you might check her speed and grace.”
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Gilwen
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Post by Gilwen on Mar 12, 2010 23:14:01 GMT -5
In utter truth, the conversation that Faeldor had with Lumiel and then the other Stable Head was lost to Gilwen amongst her humming heart and contented thoughts and laughter, and the sweet sounds from Laerdin. “You are a sweet one,” Gilwen cooed to the animal, and the mare tossed her head once as if to nod, which sent Gilwen into another little spell of giggles.
It had been quite an evening, and it was not even partially finished yet! They still had to ride amongst the plains, and picnic as Faeldor had planned and explained to her. And now, the autumn chill would do her no harm with the new coat and dress she had received, and to be upon her new mount! Oh, Laerdin was her very own!
“Well, dove, would you like to try her?”
Gilwen whisked around to face him and nodded eagerly, though even as she did this his hands were already upon her and lifting her upward to sit atop the new gentle mare. Though, for a moment a motion of sadness passed over her face as she realized Faeldor sitting with her for the ride was now implausible. She did, in her heart, wish to remain in his arms, but her childlike joy at her new horse and gift was strong within her as well, and it was only for a moment where she caught Faeldor’s eye that such a tinge of sadness passed through her own dark ones.
She straightened herself within the saddle, her smile returning to full brightness once more. Shining eyes danced as she chewed her bottom lip. She couldn’t believe this mount was hers! Laerdin had been a gift just from her beloved to her. She was perfect. There was no doubt in Gilwen’s mind that she would be able to love and care for this magnificent creature for years to come. And her horse master.
She shifted her pretty gaze to him once more, a great swell of love and peace rising within her. He would be beside her. And perhaps, she mused happily, their days of riding together atop one horse had not utterly vanished. They would be rarer, but certainly he would do such a thing gladly if she asked him to. But for tonight!
“Perhaps we can still make it to the Pelennor before dark and you might check her speed and grace.”
“I would imagine she is wonderful,” Gilwen hummed quietly. “Nothing so lovely could be ungraceful.” As if in response, Laerdin whinnied and tossed her head once more, and Gilwen smiled.
“And I trust you,” she added lowly toward Faeldor. Still, a little glint was sparkling in her eye yet, and she added quite happily, “But I do long to see her!” Oh, he should not mistake her longing to gallop! While galloping tonight was of no option, and in her heart even the excited Gilwen knew this, she could have something to look forward to on the next available day to go riding. Faeldor would certainly be eager to take her out! And even if he was not, she could certainly steal away the horse and sneak out upon the plains as she had done as a child. No matter how much Faeldor would protest such things.
She awaited eagerly and with fine energy the second that Faeldor mounted Lumiel, for that would mean their night would truly begin. A picnic with her love under a blanket of stars in the bed of the golden Pelennor; the very idea gave Gilwen more joy.
One thing was certain, she was completely ready.
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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 Mar 14, 2010 16:41:17 GMT -5
Faeldor smiled happily in return. Oh, but he could tell the lady’s thoughts were pleasant now. No more bitterness to ruin her day. He knew in his heart that returning Gilwen to her home late in the evening would not be a fine event with the anger that Beregar had earlier displayed towards them. Yet, it would be worth it; to see Gilwen’s face now. Her eyes were shining as the very stars themselves!
To think that once they were wed, they could be together day by day, and many of the worries which were so deeply rooted in Gilwen’s life now would be gone. No worry of when she or her family would eat, or where they would sleep. Rumors and accusations of harlotry would not hold sway. No Beregar locking her in her room, nor Miriel or Durion finding reason to hurt her in any way. And no more nights spent alone in a cold bed! The Stablemaster was certain that only good would come of wedding this woman, and he prayed that the Valar again make it soon. He had been asking after her hand week by week, but was so often denied, and he pledged himself that should this continue much longer, he would plant himself on her doorstep for days until Beregar relented his word.
During his thoughts, Faeldor could not help but take the edges of Gilwen’s skirts and arrange them neatly upon the horse’s sides, much as he had done the day he had decorated her in flowers on the riverside. He placed a hand affectionately on her knee and looked upon her. Though, this time, he only admired her for a moment, before he reached up to wrap his arms about her, even while she was in the saddle, hugging her tightly, and pressing his curly head against her side for a tender moment.
“Le laerdin nîn,” Faeldor muttered against the woman. The language of the ancient Numenoreans and the men of Belfalas had not bypassed Faeldor in his early teachings; and though he had never used it beyond his studies and education as a youth, it seemed fitting for the moment. The words were well used today still in the naming of the both the people of Belfalas, and even still in Minas Tirith. Names were things of meaning. You are my silent song. Ah, Gilwen did not sing aloud to him beautiful melodies, yet the look upon her face was wonderful, and her eyes composed countless melodies for him!
Faeldor said not a word more to Gilwen, though he smiled on her and eventually moved to mount Lumiel, and lead them out of the stables, and down through the first tier, and the Great Gate.
Laerdin, yes. A fine name for a horse. And a fine endearment for his Lady.
Once they reached the Pelennor, Faeldor finally turned back to Gilwen. “Would my Lady enjoy to lead this evening? I had no particular place in mind for our picnic; but perhaps there is a place you are fond of.” As the Stablemaster asked, he realized that each time the two of them had come upon the plains, it was he who picked their destination. Well; Gilwen very well loved the tall grasses as well as he; and had come out here many times before he had known her. She likely had her favorite places as well, and as Faeldor did not plan that they would travel far from the city; tonight was a well suited time as any.
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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 Mar 14, 2010 21:59:54 GMT -5
It felt right to sit astride the fog-colored mare, and Gilwen was as certain then as ever that the Valar, and Eru himself had their hand in her life. It was an amazing feeling; everything was perfect. At that moment, she felt utterly contented. Soon, she was certain, he would have the courage to approach her father and to ask for her hand. Beregar would never, she mused inwardly, outwardly reject such a request from a gentleman such as Faeldor, no matter how immoral Beregar thought him.
He would be glad for her, that she had a suitor. He would not deny her that, surely. No matter how cross he was. She would be with him for all of her days, contented and loved. Joyous. Enjoying fully the gift that the Valar had given her. Gilwen was completely thrilled by the very idea that one day she would belong to him. There would never be a night where she would not know the comfort of his smile, or his loving eyes. Never would a foul word be uttered against their marriage, for it would be pure and right. She would never look to another man for her own desires, and he would look for no other woman.
Those days would certainly be great. And she wished with all of her heart that they would come soon.
She felt the fabric about her ankles tug and pull ever so slightly, and Gilwen was swept from her dream-like trance of happy thoughts and pictures of she and Faeldor’s future happiness by careful ministrations that folded them about her. She watched, smiling inwardly. His hand rested lovingly on her knee, and she caught his eye for the few moments he gazed upon her.
She was slightly taken aback by the sight of all of the love that pooled within them. For a moment it felt as if her very chest tightened. Nobody had ever looked upon her as this, though perhaps selfishly Gilwen felt that she would not have Faeldor look upon another with the same eyes. How could her Papa not see how wonderful he was to her?
The thought had barely begun inching across her mind when she felt Faeldor wrap his arms about her, and press his head against her side. “Le laerdin nîn.” One of Gilwen’s hands immediately left the reins, and trailed through his dark curls. She had caught her breath slightly; Faeldor had never been so tender to her in a public place. It was utterly new. Her gentle fingers returned to the reins as he pulled away once more and climbed atop Lumiel, though thoughtful eyes following the Stable Master as he mounted. The words were lovely, and Gilwen knew she would not forget them. But whatever had he said to her? She opened her mouth to ask, though immediately clamped it shut once more.
He knew the old language for his education. Education she was not given as a girl. Tonight she did not wish to embarrass herself. She would refrain from asking him what those words had meant. She tried to convince herself it did not matter; they had sounded lovely, and surely their meaning was as well. She should be contented to know he loved her.
“Would my Lady enjoy to lead this evening? I had no particular place in mind for our picnic; but perhaps there is a place you are fond of.”
Gilwen smiled, though said nothing in response. Instead, she heeled Laerdin into a walk, and the mare gracefully strode forward. She had oft gone upon the plains as a girl, though she had never had a way to venture too far away from the city. Still, in her mind was the precise spot to which she wished to take her beloved. It was not as lovely as Fela Isilme, but the view from there was enchanting in its own way.
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The city had seemed to wind on for quite some time, and the closer Gilwen got to the first tier the more she was ready to race away at any sign of her father. It was not needed, and Gilwen purposefully avoided looking upon the small house as she passed it by, instead seeing the great gate to the city, and remembering the prospect of a picnic. It was to be a lovely evening.
It had not taken them long from the gate to reach the spot where Gilwen had wished to lead him. It was a thirty-minute ride merely, though the spot itself was for all purposes perfect to the servant woman. The earth inclined steadily from the great wall to where they were, though it was not noticeable until one turned to look back toward the city.
It was a picturesque view. The White City looked strong from here, towering into the night, dancing star-like flames upon all seven of the wonderful tiers. The painted colors of nightfall had begun to set in behind it, shadowing the glowing white stone, but none of the strength and glory that seemed to be represented by it. No sounds from the streets reached them, and it seemed as if Minas Tirith was a painted picture only, though the artists were the Valar themselves, and the brushstrokes were lost in the vividness of their work.
“This is where I would come when I had my days off,” Gilwen said slowly, facing the view from atop Laerdin. “It seemed like the pictures I saw hung in the walls of the palace. I used to come often to see the splendor of our great city from this very hill.”
A part of her voice seemed quiet and lost. It had been a good while since she had come to sit here. As she had grown older, the chances to steal away had become scarce. Enjoying this spot upon the field had been lost amidst her duties in the palace and as a daughter to her parents. She sighed, though. Contented she had finally made it back. Nothing seemed to have changed, save for the fact this time Gilwen had not come alone.
She smiled quietly and dismounted, giving Laerdin a pat upon her neck before releasing her to allow her to graze. The docile mare seemed to look at her with an intelligent eye before she slowly turned to walk off a few paces.
“It is not Fela Isilme,” she began to Faeldor quietly. “But I do love it here.”
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