Faeldor
Man
Head Stablemaster
Do we walk in legends or on the green earth in the daylight?[Mo0:1]
Posts: 556
|
Post by Faeldor on Mar 15, 2010 11:16:06 GMT -5
Faeldor was impressed as Gilwen took the lead from him with no hesitation; only a smile upon her face. He was gladdened for it though, because it certainly meant that she had a place in mind. A place which was special to her, and she would share with him. Even as they had passed through spring and summer, and now early autumn together, the Lady was continually surprising him.
He watched her as they rode; realizing the privilege it was to send her in front. He could see her every movement as they went. The way she sometimes leaned to assure her beloved new friend; how she had to continually brush her hair back from her face and out of the wind, and even the soft smile of contentment on her face when she turned to look at him. The Stablemaster found himself quite taken with his Gilwen, as if it were their very first outing once again.
The steady rise in incline was unnoticed by Faeldor, until they had finally reached their destination, and he tore his eyes from Gilwen’s frame to look about them. The grasses seemed orange and silver in the twilight hour, and Minas Tirith was glorious from this view. “Each place is splendid in their own accord. That they have meaning in themselves is what matters, and this is a fine sight to behold.”
In a quick movement, Faeldor had dismounted as well, and glanced at Gilwen for a moment as he moved to Lumiel’s pack. Out he drew a ground blanket first, which he took no time in spreading on the grasses; and then the satchel containing their supper meal. Faeldor was hungry as usual; though he was first excited to take Gilwen’s reaction for what his Mother had packed for them. Surely the feast was plentiful, as well as the drink.
The man moved to Gilwen to help her sit, then joined her, leaning near to kiss the corner of her lips, and run a hand through her hair, before resuming his motions of setting out the picnic. “Did you enjoy your first ride with her?” he asked curiously, glancing to Laerdin as she grazed nearby. As he listened for her answer, he began to pull out the items in which Meleth had packed; sandwiches and some varieties of fruit, as well as the cinnamon cake with its icing. Then, two tin cups, and the wine bottle, looking for her reaction as he uncorked it nonchalantly, and began to fill the cups to the brim.
The man bit his lip, and could not contain a bit of laughter very long though, as he decided to assure Gilwen of the non-toxicity of their drink. “Mother and the children picked berries on the edge of the city just yesterday, and she strained and sweetened this juice this very morning. I promise you, there is no alcohol in it, nor has it had time to ferment.” He handed her the cup, a bright smile upon his face.
|
|
Gilwen
Man
servant
There are times when silence has the loudest voice.[Mo0:0]
Posts: 593
|
Post by Gilwen on Mar 15, 2010 13:41:47 GMT -5
Gilwen hardly even saw the man dismount, such was her concentration upon the great city. A crisp breeze whispered through the flowing grasses, and her hair whipped about her face, a familiarity therein seeping into her. Oh, it had been far too long since she had made time to come here. Perhaps now that she had Laerdin she could venture out here on her own, to sit in silence and watch the White City gleam in the sunlight as she had all those years ago. To steal away from everything that had changed within her life within the walls, and pretend, if only for a moment, that she was no older than nineteen. For she had not ventured this far since then.
She had been a girl with no worries. Her Mama and Papa had both been with jobs and income, and her workload had not increased. It was when Niniel had lost her job that she no longer had days like that. Where she could come here and spend hours gazing upon the strength and hope of Gondor.
It was the motion of laying out a blanket that caught Gilwen’s attention and she turned to watch Faeldor as he set up the little picnic. It seemed that Faeldor kept unpacking food things, and Gilwen watched in a slight awe. She was not even sure that that much food was in her home at that moment, let alone able to be spared for something as simple as her birthday. She was not like Faeldor in the way her family had celebrated. All birthdays were simply marks of age, and nothing to be heartily celebrated. The fruit looked fresh, and even in the darkening light, vibrant in color. The sandwiches were neatly made, and despite herself, Gilwen began to feel a bit hungry. But this was so much food! It never ceased to amaze her that Faeldor and his family lived so nicely. She had never known such abundance of things; yet she wondered at it. She had been perfectly happy as she was.
He had displayed the wonderful food, and rose to take her hand and guide her to sit. She did so quietly, eyeing the stable master as he sat down beside her. He leaned over and brushed his lips against the corner of hers, and for a brief moment she felt his fingers in her hair. It was a rare thing now for Faeldor to display affection to her. Not since he had been told the news of Miriel’s state. She had come upon him in such a state; he had never been more furious. In order to protect his house and family name, he had done brash things. He had sent Narbeleth away, and Gilwen missed her greatly. A few times she had thought to write to her, but knew the state of her penmanship left something to be desired. He had not even allowed Gilwen to comfort him with touches for a time. She understood his frustration, though did not understand his action. She had made it a soft but strong point that she had not approved of sending Beleth away. She had not even gotten to say farewell to her. And he had changed the way he was with her.
All of those displays that had left her utterly disarrayed and blushing were now things Gilwen missed. But she never would say so.
“Did you enjoy your first ride with her?”
Gilwen smiled at him. “I did,” her voice piqued a little in excitement. “She is perfect, Fael.” She was going to say more, but he had begun unpacking more things. A cake! Gracious, she had never had one of those before! It stilled her tongue and she just stared. But it was the last thing he pulled out that set fire to her tongue.
“Faeldor, put that away. We both promised to not drink!” Oh, he was filling the cups to the brim with the liquid, too! Did he not remember the last time she had had that much to drink? Even the watered wine from that night at the ball had affected her. “We mustn’t do something we shall regret. What are you doing?”
Had he finally just given up on trying to remain chaste? Had he decided that the vows he made to her meant nothing now that his family name had been tarnished? Gilwen’s little heart whirred and she tensed immediately. Was he laughing? He was. This horrified Gilwen immediately and she was about to speak again when he explained himself.
“Mother and the children picked berries on the edge of the city just yesterday, and she strained and sweetened this juice this very morning. I promise you, there is no alcohol in it, nor has it had time to ferment.”
She did not even smile. She just looked at him and released the anxiety she held in her body. “It is not funny, Fael.” She murmured quietly. He made jest of them going over the edge and too far; the same thing he had sent Beleth away for, and criticized Miriel of now. Was he exempt from his own standards?
She took the cup from his extended hand, though did not raise it to her lips just then. She did not want to talk to Faeldor about any of that tonight. She had already informed him of the way she felt he overreacted with Beleth. Truly, Calon and Beleth had done things more proper than he and herself had. And they were paying for that now. But Faeldor would have had a fit to learn her father was sending her away, or indeed was not allowed to return until summoned.
“Your mother made all of this for me?” She asked almost innocently. And Meleth was not even able to enjoy it with her. She was beginning to feel as part of the family. Most of his sisters she loved as her own, and Meleth cared for her like a daughter. “Do tell her thank you. I do not think I have ever said so in person.”
|
|
Faeldor
Man
Head Stablemaster
Do we walk in legends or on the green earth in the daylight?[Mo0:1]
Posts: 556
|
Post by Faeldor on Mar 15, 2010 21:07:36 GMT -5
“Your mother made all of this for me?”“Well, she had hoped you would share it with me. And I am a slight ravenous, so I hope so as well,” the Stable master jested once more. In truth though, it was more food than either of them might consume. Faeldor had mind to send the rest of it home with Gilwen when he took her there; but now was not the time to say so. “Though…” the man paused. He put down his drink, and moved nearer Gilwen, reaching to take away the cup that he had just handed her and put it down on the steady ground as well. “First things are first. It has been much longer since I have done this, then since I have last eaten,” the man mused, smiling slightly as he moved even nearer Gilwen. He had done well in the city. Faeldor He leaned on one hand, letting the other cup the back of her neck, and then moved to press a kiss first against the woman’s forehead. Next, each eyelid, and a few upon her cheeks. The tip of her nose, and then her chin. The man hovered near her lips for a moment, though stilled himself and moved to kiss the tips of her ears, and then let his lips rest against her jaw as he began to hum to her, smiling, and then softly singing; “There are little traits that keep me bound... I think of nothing else save the bright face of my lady-
Ah me! Her swan-white throat, her strong chin, Her fresh laughing mouth which daily seems to say, "Come kiss me, love, kiss me once again!
Her regal nose, her smiling dark eyes- (That thieve to steal a lovers heart)- And her brown tresses that wildly fly. Each have wounded me as with a dart
So amorous are these that I deem they will slay me. Ah God, ah God! Alas, who will save me?”So closely did he sing to her, his forehead pressed against hers, and finally, at the end he kissed her lips lightly. Though one taste was not enough for the man, and once against he sought them more passionately, unable to still himself now that he had started, at least for some moments. A few more kisses, and Faeldor finally relented, laughing slightly by both eye and mouth. “Who will save me?” he teased slightly, knowing that he very well wished for no saving. Here they were alone, with no interruption, nor judgmental eyes upon them, and who was Faeldor to deny Gilwen all the kisses she might desire on her own birthday? Even as Faeldor held those thoughts, he leaned in to part those pretty lips once more, this time, running his hand again through the woman’s soft tresses, and then sliding it down her back, and once more up her side. He had certainly missed the feel of her. He moved his hand higher, letting it pass over her chest quite boldly, though not stalling, and finally he held her chin in his hand; tilting her face upward to look upon him. “Have I ever told you that you are lovely quite perfectly built?” he asked. “Hm… six and twenty has treated you quite fine…” he mused, finally releasing her. Faeldor sighed, moving back a slight, and now offering Gilwen a sandwich, and moving her cup back in front of her. “Lovely evening…” he commented, a grin still in his voice. Untitled Poem by Unknown Author (13th century)
|
|
Gilwen
Man
servant
There are times when silence has the loudest voice.[Mo0:0]
Posts: 593
|
Post by Gilwen on Mar 15, 2010 22:06:27 GMT -5
“Well, she had hoped you would share it with me. And I am a slight ravenous, so I hope so as well.”
Gilwen smiled, and almost laughed slightly in a response. However, before she could even react, he had changed the tone of the conversation completely. “First things are first. It has been much longer since I have done this, then since I have last eaten.” Her glass of juice was taken from her, and before she could say anything, he had moved closer and had begun to eagerly kiss her. They were numerous, though soft. It did not take Gilwen much thought to realize he was trying to hold to some sort of decorum, attempting to make up for his lack of passion and heat in the multitude of kisses he was gifting her. He even lingered before her lips a moment before deciding against it.
He was so close to her, she could not help but enjoy them, she even cherished the song he began to sing, and the feeling of his breath upon her as he kept himself quite close to her; her heart was pounding against her ribcage. Upon the end of his song, it seemed the stable master could no longer resist the pull of her lips, though and instantly he swept them up. It was soft, not nearly as impassioned as they normally were. She saw in his grey eyes that he desired to still himself, though quickly his desires for her took over and his lips met hers and kept them for some time.
“Who will save me?”
Gilwen was breathless, and did not respond. Oh, they both needed to be saved. Gilwen could begin to feel that his heated passions were rising, and her own, despite herself had begun a slow climb herself. Still, neither of them had taken any wine, and both were mindful of themselves and their actions. Things could not possibly go so wayward tonight as they had done in the past.
Her lips were taken again, this time parted, and Gilwen instantly knew Faeldor no longer had restraint upon himself. Though, even as her thoughts led her to this, she was aware that she did not pull away. In fact, her hand had risen to grip his tunic, and as his hand traced down her back and up her side she thought for a moment about bridging their distance apart. She wished to be close.
Her thoughts though immediately turned away from such thoughts though, as Faeldor’s hand brazenly and openly slid over her chest, and the woman instantly gasped and pulled herself back, though his hand had taken up her chin and she could not move the way she wished.
“Have I ever told you that you are lovely quite perfectly built? Hm… six and twenty has treated you quite fine…”
Gilwen blushed such a color as to be a rival to the apple. Part was in embarrassment, something Faeldor would surely expect, and seemed to enjoy. The other part, though, was anger. However, the shock on her face did not give any hint to her temper, though.
“Lovely evening…”
He was smiling. He had pulled away and was handing her a sandwich. Gilwen’s mouth finally caught up with her rampant mind, though perhaps could not keep up well enough for fluid sentences. “Faeldor! What in Eru’s name do you think you are doing?” Her voice was low, though perhaps a bit sharp. She reined herself in a tad before continuing, but what she lacked in sharpness she made up for in speed of words.
“You have sent your sister away under accusations of her partaking in activities such as these,” Gilwen ignored the sandwich and began quickly working her skirts to stand pointedly. “While the stablehand has surely never touched her the way you have touched me. Gracious! If anyone should have been sent away it is me,” she was so flustered and embarrassed as she worked to admit this her face was turning even redder. “For I am the one who allows such things, not Beleth.” She pointed a finger to him and added with a serious tone, “You desire her to respect herself, and she does. Calon respects her. Faeldor, respect me.”
Heavens, if someone had seen! Instantly she turned to look around. No person should have been out and about them, though her heart plummeted and she made a sound of frustration as she saw that Laerdin’s gentle eyes were upon them. Instantly she buried her face into her hands, fighting the urge to burst into tears. She was more wayward than Beleth would ever be. And for her birthday, all Gilwen wanted was for her to be able to come home.
|
|
Faeldor
Man
Head Stablemaster
Do we walk in legends or on the green earth in the daylight?[Mo0:1]
Posts: 556
|
Post by Faeldor on Mar 15, 2010 23:46:22 GMT -5
“You desire her to respect herself, and she does. Calon respects her. Faeldor, respect me.”
“Gilwen… I do respect you,” the man answered softly. “I was just giving you my affections. I love you so, and it has been long since we have had a time perfectly alone.” Indeed, the man was a bit confounded, for had he not touched and kissed his lady in more intimate manners than this before? She had not protested then, and they were entirely alert and sober this time. The man was not being overly passionate. Why, he had not even drawn her upon his lap.
He thought upon the night that he had set Narbeleth and Calon together for the Ball on Midsummer’s eve. Certainly he had made a display of his affections for Gilwen on that evening; and right in front of the two of them. Gilwen was right though; at least to Faeldor’s knowledge, and what his eyes had seen, Calon had laid no hands upon his sister.
He frowned guiltily thought at the mention of his sister. How ever so much he missed sweet Beleth! A light and a joy had certainly been missing from their household for the past months. Yet, his pride would not allow him to ask her to come home on the family’s behalf. Soon enough, certainly. He could not let her stay away from them much longer, for the household needed her mirth. It was also apparent that Gilwen needed her friend.
“I would not wish you sent away, Starlight,” Faeldor said, reaching up for Gilwen’s hand and hoping to draw her back down on the blanket beside him. Calon did not wish Beleth to be sent away either. An inward thought spoke to him. He tried to push it aside. Calon has done nothing to earn your distrust. It was true.
Even after having sent his sister away, Calon continued to work as hard, if not moreso, than he had before. The young man had more stamina and energy than even Faeldor himself, which was saying much. He was always on time, careful, and thorough in his job, and never seemed to be inebriated from a night of drinking as the other men had been. In fact, Faeldor was on the verge of promoting the man. One of the elder grooms had retired, and a man of Calon’s skill could not be left as a stablehand for long.
“I’m sorry you miss her. I do miss my sister as well,” Faeldor admitted. Though he did not say that he would send for her home yet. His voice was strained. He had been very close to Narbeleth before all of this; and he wondered at the fact that perhaps that closeness had been ruined.
|
|
Gilwen
Man
servant
There are times when silence has the loudest voice.[Mo0:0]
Posts: 593
|
Post by Gilwen on Mar 16, 2010 0:14:08 GMT -5
Gilwen merely gasped for breath to calm her heart. And a slight guilt rose within her for letting her tongue escape from her. It was not a problem, truly, that Gilwen had often. This was a rarity, for her voice to be the way her troubles were known. She was not a vocal person. Oh, but her soul could not take this anymore. It seemed wrong to enjoy the motions that Faeldor gave her when he had punished others for less than what they had done.
“Gilwen… I do respect you.”
His words were soft, as if he had been slightly wounded by her demand. Gilwen felt her heart drop; a part of her expected a raised voice in return, and all of her knew that such a thing would have been easier to take than this. She sighed and looked away, back over the painted masterpiece toward the bottom of the hill, though her attention was fully on Faeldor, and the way he continued. “I know you were giving me your affections,” Gilwen murmured in response, sighing. She enjoyed them, she could not ever blame him for liking such things. She was just as unable as he of keeping her hands to herself, and not relishing their closeness. But now it felt wrong, as if she was helping him be a hypocrite. “I am not trying to deny you of that,” the ending was so soft she barely heard it herself.
“I would not wish you sent away, Starlight.”
“And I would not wish to go.” Gilwen added pointedly. As if Beleth had desired to. She sighed once more as Faeldor grasped her hand and tugged lightly upon her to bid her sit with him once more. She nearly folded at the knees, she dropped so readily. She could not even bear the weight of looking on her beloved. She had hurt him, she knew. He was a man of action as well as words; he spoke of love, and he made motions of a lover as well. There was no ill in what they had done, but there was no ill in what Calon and Beleth had done either.
She looked at the sandwich that Faeldor had offered her, though did not reach for it. Instead, she eyed the cake that was near her as well. She had often seen cakes, and heard that they were delicious. Though her family had never been in a way to purchase one themselves. Cakes were one of the finer pastries; there were many kinds Gilwen had simply never tried.
She slowly reached for it as Faeldor seemed lost in his thoughts, and for the knife that lay beside it. Curiously she cut herself a piece and slowly began to eat. It did not take long for it to be eaten; she was well hungry.
“I’m sorry you miss her. I do miss my sister as well.” Gilwen looked upward to him with an almost teary expression, and she tiredly said, “I just want her to come back, Fael.” Beleth was truly the only friend she had left. She had not heard from Arien in some time, and while his other younger siblings loved her, they were not of an age to speak to on certain matters. Gilwen, in truth, felt lonely. For a moment she thought she would cry, though pulled back her emotions and instead eyed the juice and went to take a drink.
She would never be able to admit to Faeldor how lonely she felt without Beleth here. He would simply worry for her. But certainly, a part of it was in her eyes. Faeldor was the love of her life, but a man could never replace the women in one’s life.
|
|
Faeldor
Man
Head Stablemaster
Do we walk in legends or on the green earth in the daylight?[Mo0:1]
Posts: 556
|
Post by Faeldor on Mar 16, 2010 14:15:21 GMT -5
“I know you were giving me your affections. I am not trying to deny you of that.”
Then why do you deny me of it? The man wished to ask. Though, he found that he could not speak the words to Gilwen, for he seemed to already know the answer.
It was not that he did not wish his sister to have the same love with someone, of which he experienced with Gilwen. It was for the sake of his sister’s dignity. Faeldor could control himself with his affections, at least when neither of them were inebriate. But, the man did not trust that his sister could do the same thing. As Miriel could not either, it seemed.
“I know you wish her back, as do I. But I do not think she is ready to return,” Faeldor said shortly. He wished the topic at hand had not come to this, for it made him to feel incredibly guilty. To know that his family had been here missing his sister for two months now. And she was there with family, though not with her conditional family. He did miss her so, and Gilwen seemed on the verge of tears.
“I love you, and wish you to have a fine birthday evening, but that is not a wish I can grant you yet,” the man stated. In truth, he did not know how much longer his own family would be able to handle the absence of their Firelight, but he would have to hold out in calling her back, for the sake of her own wellbeing.
Faeldor was glad to see that Gilwen had started eating. He did not wish this slight argument to completely destroy their evening. He did not want to think about Narbeleth right now. He thought about her enough each time one of the children asked after her at home, and each time he saw Calon at work, and each time he came home late and nobody in the house was up to greet him. There was no woman screaming and laughing as she ran through the halls, nor playing imagination games with the young ones, or teaching dancing lessons in the back gardens wearing only a nightgown. Certainly that flicker of light was missing from all of their hearts.
The man chewed at his sandwich, and watched Gilwen as she drank from her cup. “Perhaps I will send for her before winter comes,” he mused quietly. Perhaps Gilwen was right, and he should ask her back immediately. Well, she had chastised him for making quick decisions before. He would certainly think this one through first. If the roads and passes were safe enough for travel, and he found a good escort to take her, perhaps it was time for her to return.
A few more minutes had passed in silence of the man’s musings, then finally, he moved on, “Is the cake to your liking? And the juice?” he questioned aside.
|
|
Gilwen
Man
servant
There are times when silence has the loudest voice.[Mo0:0]
Posts: 593
|
Post by Gilwen on Mar 16, 2010 16:32:57 GMT -5
“I know you wish her back, as do I. But I do not think she is ready to return.”
Gilwen could have pointed out that she was certain Beleth was ready to return, it was Faeldor who was not ready to allow himself to admit wrong. But today was not a day she wished to argue anymore. It was her birthday, and she merely wanted to enjoy her evening away from home and out of the house. Upon the plains with the rustling grass, two beautiful mares and the man that held her heart in his hand. Gilwen fell back into a silence then, still nibbling away at the food in a rather mouse-like fashion; she was far too upset to really eat much of anything, in truth. Nonetheless, she was aware she needed to. And Meleth had clearly spent much time in preparations.
“Perhaps I will send for her before winter comes.”
Gilwen did not even look to him to acknowledge she had heard his words, instead she inwardly raised a prayer to the Valar and to Eru that it would come sooner; she was ever so certain that everything would feel infinitely better if Beleth were back. It seemed her gaze was so intently focused away from Faeldor that she truly felt as if she were sitting alone at that very moment. Neither one of them now were in the mood to speak it seemed, and Gilwen inwardly scolded herself for reacting in the way she had. It was her fault their evening seemed ruined as they sat there now, and she had to fight hard against the urge to just rise and move off a few paces to cry. This had not turned to be the evening she had desired. It hurt worse that it was her own fault.
Just moments ago Faeldor had explained he loved her and wished for her a fine evening. It was Gilwen herself who seemed to have taken that away from herself. How utterly dreadful she felt.
“Is the cake to your liking? And the juice?”
Gilwen glanced over to Faeldor a moment, and then down to the glass in her hand. “Oh, yes.” She said nothing else for a space, though desperately tried to fix the damage she had caused. “I have never had cake before,” she offered quietly. “Your mother is a fine baker.” She finally turned her gaze back to him, though her heart still felt heavy. What else was there to say?
She sighed inwardly, though outwardly she stayed steady. “I…I am sorry, Fael. I did not mean to upset you.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “…I love you.” She added slowly, though just as quietly. Oh, how things had gotten out of hand! It seemed that recently many of their conversations had been strained, mostly due to their disagreement on what had happened over the matter of Beleth and Miriel, and Gilwen knew that at home things were no better for him.
Faeldor was not unloved, though unsupported. He tried to remain the epitome of strength and resilience, but Gilwen could see the way he had changed; he looked sullen oftentimes when she found him and he was lost in his own thoughts. It wearied him, she was sure of it. He always put a smile on for her, as if he was bothered by nothing. But Gilwen could read him better than that. Things had not been the same.
Had she more assurance at that moment, she would have moved a slight closer and run a hand through his curls to still his strained nerves. She had wished to care for him and ease his troubles these past weeks. She knew he was hurting yet could do nothing. Cautiously, though, her mind was made up to try and do so now. Or try. It was a hard thing for her to bring herself to do at that moment, what with the subject matter they had just had their discord over. Nonetheless a gentle hand was extended and brushed his curls lovingly, and her eyes softened, though she said no more.
|
|
Faeldor
Man
Head Stablemaster
Do we walk in legends or on the green earth in the daylight?[Mo0:1]
Posts: 556
|
Post by Faeldor on Mar 16, 2010 22:42:41 GMT -5
“I…I am sorry, Fael. I did not mean to upset you.” The man was about to open his mouth and speak. He was the one who should be apologizing; to upset her so, and on an evening that was supposed to be special for her, was a crime. Yet she continued before he gave words, “…I love you.”
Faeldor was silent for a moment. Gilwen knew very well that he loved her too, yet for some reason she seemed not finished, and so he did not speak. Eventually, Gilwen reached out for him; her hands were gentle and calming upon his face, and he was reminded once more that he was loved. It was odd how Gilwen’s words did not mean as much to the man as her actions. He had simply grown accustomed to her expressions being less in speech, and more within the way she looked at him and touched him. This simple gesture caused him to smile.
“I love you too,” he finally replied, grasping Gilwen’s hand and kissing the palm of it. He glanced upward at the darkened sky for a moment, and then looked back to her. “You are the brightest star. I hope you know that. The brightest I have seen and known, and will ever know.” Save, perhaps, our daughters, Faeldor thought inwardly. He would have said so aloud, but the argument they had just had did not suit talk of children, he presumed.
He finally lowered Gilwen’s hand, and hesitantly moved closer to her. “I know that on this outing you are warm,” he smiled slightly, “But if you will allow it, I will hold you. I promise I will not lay my lips upon you again if you do not desire it,” he added the last phrase quickly, in case she were to shy away from him for his previous actions.
|
|
Gilwen
Man
servant
There are times when silence has the loudest voice.[Mo0:0]
Posts: 593
|
Post by Gilwen on Mar 16, 2010 23:29:57 GMT -5
“I love you too.”
He had smiled, and such a thing had eased Gilwen’s heart immediately. Their evening was not beyond repair. He grabbed her hand and kissed her palm, and she too smiled slightly. The change in the atmosphere was instantaneous, and all of the strain she had felt those moments before had vanished completely.
His eyes turned upward to the stars, and her eyes followed his gaze herself. “You are the brightest star. I hope you know that. The brightest I have seen and known, and will ever know.” Gilwen looked at him and laughed ever so quietly, though her eyes were indeed once more bright and glittering like the stars. She still did not understand how he could see her that way; but his grey eyes did not lie to her. She, though, had grown to treasure him in the same way, though she would never utter such a thing aloud. Surely Faeldor would deem the observation too feminine for his pride.
It was a quiet moment that passed between them, nonetheless it was not strained or horrid. In fact, sitting their looking up at the stars and feeling the wind play with her hair had calmed Gilwen completely. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath; she did not open her eyes until she felt Faeldor moving. She opened her eyes and looked to him quickly, and he expressed interest in holding her.
“But if you will allow it, I will hold you. I promise I will not lay my lips upon you again if you do not desire it.”
She smiled and nodded, giving him permission to enfold her in his arms; the night was far too lovely to not enjoy it the arms of her beloved. His arms slowly came about her, still holding his air of caution, though they fit around her warmly and gently, and she felt a slight pull against her to lean in toward him. This she complied to eagerly, tucking her head beneath his chin, and leaning her back against his chest easily; she was not uneasy under his touch in the least, and in fact cherished the feel of his strong arms about her. She felt utterly safe and secure.
She continued to gaze up at the stars; the night had come fully now, and the moon was not yet high enough to cast enough light to disrupt the dancing glitter of the multitude of stars, and Gilwen simply watched. Her eyes flicked once again to the city, the city where the spotted lights flickered like the stars themselves.
It was a few moments they had sat in silence, though comfortably, and Gilwen recalled Faeldor’s promise: he would not kiss her unless she desired it. Though, at that moment, she did desire it. She looked up at him, and slowly pulled herself away and turned to face him. Her fingertips traced his jaw, and her brown eyes seem caught in the depth of his own grey ones. For a moment her eyes flicked to his lips, though returned to his eyes briefly. She could not resist. The lady leaned in slowly, as to not seem brash, and lightly brushed her lips against his. She felt a heat in her cheeks that she was still so forward after what they had just discussed, but the night masked it a slight. She lingered near him long enough to nuzzle her nose against his, and closed her eyes to relish the closeness.
She finally opened her eyes again, and smiled ever so slightly. She imagined Faeldor was quite ready for them to kiss again, but this time she would allow him to decide. She had given him permission enough, and she patiently waited his decision.
He did not have long to react, though. A breeze swept through the plains, and immediately something felt different in the air. The horses seemed to be able to sense it well, for it was all at once that both mares began to rear and thrash their forelegs and necks.
Gilly gasped and pulled back from Faeldor, snapping her head around to catch sight of the horses. “Fael, what is it?” Her voice held a clear trepidation. She had never seen Lumiel act so strangely, and even though she had not known Laerdin long, this was a different horse completely than the one she had been given earlier.
The whites of the mare’s eyes were showing as they jumped and kicked about, and they had both begun whinnying and neighing with such a sound it seemed to roll along the plains and grass.
Gilwen tensed immediately and nervously grasped Faeldor’s tunic, looking about them. It was so utterly dark! She could see nothing beyond the rolling grass. “What’s wrong?” She whispered again. The air seemed to be charged with something; Gilwen knew that her nerves were on alert, and while she wished to go calm Laerdin down, for both of the mounts were still thrashing about, she knew something had caused them to act that way, and it was that which had her own neck bristled and her heart in a flutter. Other than the sound of the hooves upon the ground and the neighing, the night was still quiet.
Something was wrong.
|
|
Faeldor
Man
Head Stablemaster
Do we walk in legends or on the green earth in the daylight?[Mo0:1]
Posts: 556
|
Post by Faeldor on Mar 22, 2010 13:47:38 GMT -5
Faeldor smiled as the woman scooted herself nearer him and snuggled against his side. There was nothing better than sitting on the plains under the starry mantle, with Gilwen warm and comfortable in his arms. Nothing better, at all, he mused.
It seemed that for a time their anxiety over the matter was finished. Faeldor would heed to not bring the matter up again this evening, for ruining it further would be no blessing. It was not long before Gilwen’s precious eyes were upon him once more, and her hand upon his face. Something of the way she touched him made her hands to seem soft and smooth, though they were still well ravaged by the torment of daily lye and the scrubbing of floors. Those eyes were so forgiving, and the man felt that his heart was held within those gentle hands. When the lady leaned up to kiss him, he savored it, and did nothing to still her or hurry her, and only afterwards while her eyes were closed, did he move to kiss her upon the forehead. How precious she looked in the moonlight! He smiled as she nuzzled against him, and then sighed, and spoke his thoughts. “I believe that you are the only who can cause me to reconsider when my mind is made up…” he muttered, then spoke even more quietly, taking back the words he had earlier said. “Tomorrow I shall send by messenger word for my sister to return. She should be here with her family.” He smiled slightly, “But let us not speak on this anymore now, and enjoy the rest of our evening.”
The words said, the man felt freer than he had in some months now, and he tilted Gilwen’s face back to him and leaned to kiss her. However, it seemed at that very moment that their time of peaceful surrender could not last long.
The cooling breeze of the Pelennor brought with it an air of disdain. The horses suddenly took to start, and the Stablemaster’s mood was suddenly at alert. Gilwen clung to him, “I do not know,” he answered slowly, his heart seizing at the fact that there could be danger so nearby. The man stood up, pulling Gilwen quickly with him. “Stay by my side,” he instructed, trusting the woman to do so as he went first toward Laerdin to calm her. As he reached for the horses reins, and pulled the mare back to the ground, a thick scream coursed over the plains.
---
“Ye gave us away you snotty lil git!” the hushed threat broke through the stillness of the night. “Twas yer own trouble fer smellin like stank pig. Now quiet the rest of yous,” Aurak ordered. He grasped his blade by the hilt and thrust it backwards out of the orc he had just sliced.
“Those men smell a might tasty,” a smaller orc, Lughorn, licked his lips, and laughed. Aurok shot him a look of death, brandishing his blade, and Lughorn clamped his mouth shut, as the remaining orcs picked their way low through the grasses to the top of the bluff.
---
Laerdin reared again; the young horse’s nostrils flared in terror, and she tried to pull away from even the calming of the Stablemaster. “Climb up on Lumiel, now, Gilwen!” Faeldor shouted at the sound of the scream. Laerdin was young and unaccustomed to the sounds and smells of the lot, and she still pulled away from him. Faeldor let go of the reins, and Laerdin trotted a few paces, her eyes looking wildly in the darkness. The man made a lunge for his sword, which was still strapped to Lumiel’s saddle, and once he took it in hand unsheathed, he reached for Gilwen to help her upon the horse; though he had not yet made it to her when he saw behind her the heads of the grotesque bunch making their way upon the cliff. “Go; Ride toward the city!”
Laerdin was already at full gallop, making back for the white walls of Minas Tirith; the safe haven she had known, though Lumiel was loyal and looked on after her masters, as if waiting for them to mount. There was no time though for Faeldor to worry on mounting Lumiel, for Lughorn had made his way quickly toward his prize and was already reaching with one deformed hand for the back of Gilwen’s dress, his rusted blade raised in the other.
Faeldor had not time for a thought, and his quick response raised his sword over Gilwen’s head, and right into the shoulder of the orc behind her, thanking Eru that she was much shorter than him. A second swing came down over Lughorn’s chest, and the orc was down and fouled, but the others were fast approaching.
“Stupid lunt,” Aurok muttered; it was unknown if he had been addressing Faeldor, or the orc he had just slain.
|
|
Gilwen
Man
servant
There are times when silence has the loudest voice.[Mo0:0]
Posts: 593
|
Post by Gilwen on Mar 22, 2010 15:16:59 GMT -5
Gilwen had hoped that perhaps Faeldor would assure her nothing was amiss, or speak of how both horses were spooked by nothing; however, the response he gave her caused her blood to run cold. “I do not know. Stay by my side.” He pulled her up with her, and she followed his instruction obediently, not that she would have needed it to keep close. Indeed, her heart was racing; she would not have left his side had he ordered her to. Surely nowhere was safer than being with him. He would do almost anything to keep her safe, she knew. He had stilled that man from harming her those months ago, and he had proved that he was strong and protective of her.
She kept close, though out of the way as he wrestled with Laerdin, bringing her back to the ground and skillfully avoiding her thrashing hooves. Gilwen looked about them once more, though inched a bit closer as Faeldor had begun to calm the mare, for it was not so dangerous.
She was about to simply ask if they could head back to the city; she no longer wished to linger out upon the field in the dark. They could find a different way to pass their time within the city walls upon her birthday. Perhaps the stables, or one of the corrals. Anything other than being in the open. Just as she was just about to open her mouth, but before the words so much as started to be uttered, a shrill, unearthly sound resounded over them.
Gilwen startled, and so had dear Laerdin. Gilwen’s mind had begun to race with all the possibilities of what that scream had come from. Some creature, she saw. Perhaps a troll. She knew not what it could be, but she knew it must be horrid; Faeldor ordered her upon Lumiel, and he seemed to have tracings of fear in him. He lurched for his sword, but Gilwen seemed too bewildered to move. Perhaps he had seen this, for he immediately reached for her to put her in the saddle himself.
“Go; Ride toward the city!”
Gilwen finally found words, and they were hurried and frightened. “Fael, what about you? I cannot leave you here!” Her voice was frantic, and with her nerves came a slight volume and pitch. Nonetheless she was not angry at him, and he was sure to know that through her eyes.
He did not respond to her, though instead raised his sword over his head. Gilwen seemed horrified that indeed it looked as if he had turned the sword to her for the way he brought the blade down. She cried out and ducked, gasping as she heard the orc behind her. If Gilwen had been frozen before, she was surely not frozen now. Immediately she tucked herself behind her stable master, as he delivered a second blow across the nasty creature’s chest. She gripped his arm. “You have to come with me,” her voice was pleading, not so much an order. She saw the others coming, the largest one was clearly the leader and had sent the others out before him.
They were foul of sight and smell and approaching rapidly, and Gilwen quickly understood that Faeldor had no intention of mounting with her. A wave of stubbornness and stupidity hit her; if he was staying, she was as well. She was not going to be without him, if they fell they would fall together. If she left, and he defeated these monsters, he would need walk a long ways to get back to the city, and if her were hurt he would not make it.
The rest of the orcs were nearly upon them now. They had split, spreading out well enough to not be all faced at once, effectively surrounding the two humans and the horse and trapping them. There was no running, the only option was to fight. Gilwen released Faeldor’s arm; he would need no distraction—merely concentration. Gilwen frowned. Those years as a child where her father had taught her to handle a sword seemed to flash before her. She had not taken practice in many years, though her muscles remembered the movements. Faeldor should not have to face all of them alone and if she was unarmed, she was simply a sitting target.
Blessed Eru, she silently lifted in prayer. Please let me help. She was the daughter of a soldier. While she was soft in mannerisms and in practices, if she needed to, she surely could rise to the same point of bravery as her father. If word had to go back to him that she was slain, she wished him to know it was with a sword in her hand.
|
|
Faeldor
Man
Head Stablemaster
Do we walk in legends or on the green earth in the daylight?[Mo0:1]
Posts: 556
|
Post by Faeldor on Mar 23, 2010 13:12:34 GMT -5
“Fael, what about you? I cannot leave you here!” The woman’s voice was shrill and nervous, and it broke Faeldor’s spirit to hear such fear from her. He could not consider himself at a time like this. He had taken some sword training along with the other head Equinaries of the city, and it was surely needed now. His temper came to rise in further urgency as the first, though smallest, orc died upon the ground.
“You have to come with me.” Faeldor’s face was strained. He could not have Gilwen in this danger! He pulled his arm away from her and repeated urgently, “Get atop Lumiel,” before he moved around her and waited for the other orcs to come forward. One at a time, it seemed. The leader who was giving orders seemed to be behind the others.
The Stablemaster took a brief second to see that Gilwen was moving upon the horse as he had instructed, though when he looked, he saw her rooted still in the place he had left her. “Go, Gilwen, I cannot have you hurt. You have not a weapon!” The man was a bit panicked. How could he defend her against all these foes? He had not ever participated in a true combat before; his father had died by some such as these, and was he to do the same, and let Gilwen go with him? He had not time to count how many were coming, for the next.
Even as he thought, he braced himself, for rushing at him was another orc; a bit larger and meaner looking than the first. By Arda! Did they smell foul! He never could have considered that they were so horrible as they were in true life. The stories did not give them justice. Thank Eru for the horses and the quick footing he had needed to dodge the large beast’s attack, and as it seemed to not have momentum to slow itself down and turn, the man lunged after it and thrust his sword within it’s back, bringing it down near the other.
The man had no time to turn and search for Gilwen this time, for another beast was upon him, and this one had made a close call, for it had grabbed his arm and was about to chop it from it’s joint, when Faeldor used his footwork yet again to duck out beneath it, and his sword to lob the beast’s head off. He stood still in horror for a brief moment, his eyes wide at what he had just done; though he certainly felt no remorse for the creature now, which was in two parts at his feet.
|
|
Gilwen
Man
servant
There are times when silence has the loudest voice.[Mo0:0]
Posts: 593
|
Post by Gilwen on Mar 23, 2010 16:28:43 GMT -5
“Go, Gilwen, I cannot have you hurt. You have not a weapon!”
But she could not leave him here. Gilwen, though, was aware that she was an easy target, for Faeldor was right. She had no weapon.
The idea came to her suddenly, as if Eru himself had slid the thought to her mind. The sword. That nasty creature Faeldor had cut down had been armed, and his stature had been small, and the sword he carried, though rusted, was small as well. Gilwen dropped to her knees and frantically searched for the blade in the dark. The hilt! There! She grasped it in her hand and bolted upright once more, skillfully clutching the sword in her hand. Faeldor was sure to be furious with her for staying behind; she was not going to allow him to perish here, nor would she ever regret her decision to stay.
She stood just in time see as Faeldor easily used his strength to destroy yet another orc, ridding the foul thing of its head completely. For a moment she cringed; she had not known he held such strength. Indeed, the sight of the dead bodies caused her stomach to churn a little, though the woman seemed to have been granted a calm of sorts by the Valar. Perhaps they pitied the situation she was in. She had struggled near enough, certainly. She set her face sternly and watched as two more orcs approached her Horse Master, one through his line of sight, though one was flanking unseen.
“If you should ever need to fight with a weapon,” Beregar was kneeling in front of her, reaching out with a a finger to touch his daughter’s nose with a smile. “Remember this, Little One. The neck and the heart.” The words were light, and Gilwen’s face was all but beaming.
The little girl giggled. “The neck and heart, Papa. I understand.”
Niniel seemed to have entered the room just in time to hear the last comment and stood for a moment surprised, then placed her hands on her hips and said quite firmly, “Beregar! What in Arda are you teaching our daughter.” Both Beregar and Gilwen had looked at each other and broken out into laughter.
The memory flashed in her mind; the words and instruction seemingly reverberating within her. The neck. The heart. She doubted her father ever suspected her to need this instruction. The orc that had been brave, or perhaps it was foolish, enough to approach Faeldor from the front was giving him quite a work with swordsmanship and the other was quickly approaching. Gilwen did not think, she simply acted. She took a stride forward, now properly armed with the small and rusted blade and stepped brazenly between her beloved and the orc, raising her own sword to catch the other blade as it fell in an attempt to strike Faeldor’s own shoulder.
She grunted slightly at the weight, though did not seem to outwardly falter. Indeed, though Gilwen was small in stature, she had spent years building strength inside the palace walls and was quite capable of holding her own for a space. Still, the woman knew it would not last long, and that if the standoff continued, she would fall by the overpowering force the orc was giving. It had been years since she had attempted any sort of parry or disarm technique with her father, though Gilwen set her mind to try it. She maneuvered her own blade to pass under the orcs, ducking slightly as the blade lurched a tad forward, though did not outwardly falter in fear.
She hooked the steel under the nasty creature’s guard and twisted her wrist in such a way as to loosen the creature’s grip upon the hilt, and the sword was not held in such a way as to balance, and the tip of the blade fell right to the ground. Gilwen sidestepped, all the while muttering to herself the instruction her father had taught her. “Neck. Heart.” The orc was armored, and she knew in her core that the heart was not going to be a target she could break through; the neck. She lifted her sword and brought it down hard against the orc right where the neck reached the shoulder. Her blow was not strong enough to remove the beast’s head, though it seemed the shock of such a blow stilled his movements for a space long enough for her to step back as he fell.
The creature was not yet dead, and reached for her ankle, though she effectively brought her sword down through his chest now able to use all of her weight into the blow. Instantly the creature fell still and she raised her eyes to lock onto Faeldor with a look of determination. “I am not leaving you here alone.” The Valar had made it so she was with him for a reason; Gilwen perhaps was more of a soldier's daughter than she thought.
|
|
Faeldor
Man
Head Stablemaster
Do we walk in legends or on the green earth in the daylight?[Mo0:1]
Posts: 556
|
Post by Faeldor on Mar 24, 2010 11:07:49 GMT -5
Faeldor’s eyes were wide. He had not seen the whole of the matter, for his struggle with the large orc before him. It was only as they stood in a test of strength with swords locked together, and Faeldor made the final motion to bring him upon the ground, his sword soon following right through his throat, and the beast gurgled his last breath. As he pressed his foot down upon the chest to forcibly remove the sword, he glanced for Gilwen. She was still not upon the horse. She was… for Eru’s sake, he saw her just as she was thrusting the rusted sword through the neck of the beast.
“I am not leaving you here alone.” His sweet and gentle Gilwen was standing atop her kill, trying to draw the sword out of his chest, though she seemed to be struggling. Faeldor almost moved to help her, though he didn’t have breath enough at the moment to speak to her any words of reprimand nor reassurance. But before his thought was finished, Aurok, the largest orc Faeldor had ever seen, seemed to be looming before him.
The orc was still not Faeldor’s height, but he had a mighty bulk of himself, and he was running at the man now full force, as if he was certain he could do what the others had not and slay him. Only at the last moment did the man leap out of the way, and as Aurok’s blade rose over his head to slay him, it only fell down on Faeldor’s forearm; leaving a long gash, though not deep enough for any permanent damage. Faeldor hardly felt the pain though, for when the orc had bypassed him; Aurok stalled for a moment, a ill fated smile coming over his face as he glanced back to Faeldor. “Haps I might take this’un alive. She has plent’ more use than killing I shewd say.”
Aurok grasped the collar of Gilwen’s dress, his iron grip drawing her toward him. He let his grotesque hand move to grasp the back of Gilwen’s neck. “Or I cud jus crush ‘er bones. That’d be a bit a fun.” He looked back to Gilwen, then kicked the dead orc at his feet. “You think yer strong an mighty, ey? Takin down one o my own. Well I’ll shew yew.”
As soon as the orc had once more faced Gilwen, Faeldor’s sense came back to him, and he rushed the beast. Before Aurok managed any harm on the woman, Faeldor’s full force had knocked him off his feet, and the man fell atop of him, his sword bearing right through his chest armor.
The Stablemaster’s breath was heaving, and he rolled to the ground with loss of balance, clutching his arm, for the orc’s sword had let another gash through Faeldor’s tunic, yet his determination was not spent. The orc creature attempted to rise from his place, though the sword pinned him rightly to the earth, and though he hands grasped at Faeldor in a final attempt with sickening laughter, the man moved had no other weapon but his hands, and moved atop of him, grasping his ugly head, and twisting his neck until it broke.
Faeldor heaved a sigh and tried to regain his breath, as he moved to stand. He looked to Gilwen, who was seemingly rooted in place. Another deep breath of the fresh night air helped his senses. “We’ll get Lumiel, and then we will go fetch Laerdin. I would not have us out here should there be another crowd of that sorts.” With that, the man reached for his sword, and dragged it out of the body with a sickly sound, then wiped it on the grass to rid it of most of the filty orc blood.
It was not long until the man called for Lumiel, who had moved a distance away; though with the sound of the fighting relented, the horse did not shy from returning at her name to her master.
|
|