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 Apr 6, 2010 21:52:58 GMT -5
“Gilwen,” Faeldor said gently as he entered the Stablemaster’s quarters. The door was wide open and the sunlight was streaming in through the window; the woman standing by the sill, scrubbing with a damp rag.
“That sill is quite clean, you were scrubbing it an hour ago.” His voice was a slight concerned, and he went right to her to take the rag away and drop it back in the bucket. “You are exhausted, lay down on my bed and take a rest.
Through the passing days, he had found things to keep her busy. The little woman had been adamant on doing some sort of work to pass her time, and so Faeldor had found little jobs for her here and there. And the rest of the time she spent doting on her horse, and on Lumiel; talking to them, and brushing them. Faeldor did his best to keep a distance from her during his working hours, so as not to find upset in his staff for having her about; though none of them seemed to mind. The younger boys had found favor with her, and the older paid her not much notice. Though, after hours, when the workers had cleared, the Stablemaster certainly took his time to sit with her for supper, and lend her his affections.
At first she had gone at it with all her might. The man had not asked her to clean his quarters for him, simply to organize and re-file some of his old documents, yet when it had been some hours and he had not seen her, he had entered his room to find her with the files neatly organized, and standing upon his desk, scrubbing cobwebs from the ceiling.
Each day had gone as such. The next, he had found his bedframe flipped over, with the mattress airing outside, and Gilwen scrubbing the floor where it had been. Certainly after two weeks had passed his room had remained spotless. Not a speck of dust or cobweb was present. Even Lumiel’s tack had been cleaned. Her thoroughness amused the man slightly, for men found such a thoroughness in cleaning to be unnecessary. But it seemed to please Gilwen, so he let her to do as she pleased.
However, one week had passed into two, and at the end of the second, Faeldor could see the change. The woman had seemed so exhausted lately, and though he would rather have her rest than work, the fact that she had stilled her incessant cleaning concerned him. Perhaps more than that, was the fact that she would appear so weary and worn, that he would order her to lay and rest, and she would willingly do so, daily. Even more than once a day she would nap now. Faeldor was glad for it, for she seemed so utterly exhausted!
Something was certainly wrong with the woman. Moreso than just the fact that she had lost her job, and her father was unrelenting with her. Faeldor grasped her lightly by the arm and brought her over to his bed, sitting on the edge of it, and glancing toward the door. “Take some rest, then we’ll have some supper before I take you home,” he suggested. Perhaps she could not rest at her home; he would at least let her take as much as she could while here.
The thought did not even come to mind that Gilwen had not been living in her parents home. He picked her up there each morning, and took her back in the evening, and so it was not amiss. Though she was quite clever at keeping the truth of the matter from him, he would still not know for some time of her true abode. Though, perhaps it would not be soon enough; for this eve he would have to tell the woman of the next day’s departure. He would again be leaving the city on the Steward’s mission to Lossarnach, and he had a feeling that this trip would give his lady a great upset.
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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 Apr 6, 2010 22:41:16 GMT -5
Her focus upon the window sill had been intense. Every feature had come together in a stern concentration, and it was all Gilwen could do to keep herself from falling asleep at that moment. The nights of sleeplessness had taken a toll on her; her skin was ashen, her body tense and exhausted. She had lost even more weight from lack of food, and barely managed to make herself presentable to Faeldor in the mornings to hide her sleeping situation.
But more than this, her cleaning had been dreadful. The sill was hardly at the standards she normally kept for herself, and indeed at the moment Gilwen did not really seem to care. It was utterly necessary she do something, though she had not really desired to sit in Laerdin’s stall today. She had stroked her mane for a time that morning, but found that she was not gaining much joy from it and had retired to Faeldor’s quarters to take up cleaning once again.
She had been there almost all the morning.
“Gilwen.”
The lady gasped and wheeled around, heart jumping into her throat as she heard the sound, her mind instantly hyper-alert to danger that she had grown accustom to upon the first tier. She saw instantly that it was simply Faeldor, though said nothing to cover up her grand display of alarm; she was too tired to care.
“That sill is quite clean, you were scrubbing it an hour ago. You are exhausted, lay down on my bed and take a rest.”
Gilwen watched as he took the rag from her forcibly and dropped it into the bucket, though did not protest at all and simply looked at him blankly. It seemed the words had come, though her reaction was slow, and after a long moment she nodded silently. He had taken her by the arm and brought her to the bed, promising that before he brought her home he would give her supper.
“All right,” Gilwen muttered, slipping from her boots easily and crawling almost eagerly into the little cot. Each passing night she spent upon the cobbled stone of the first tier left her with more longing for the moments where she could rest within Faeldor’s quarters. Blankets, a pillow and a mattress seemed blessed gifts from the Valar to keep her together a little bit longer. Though, inwardly she felt as if she were falling apart.
Her body felt heavy; unlike the light and comfortable way Faeldor had seen her sleep before, her rest now seemed burdened. Her body never did relax completely, nor did it ever take much to rouse her and oft it was that she awoke more ashen then when Faeldor had bid her to lay down. Such a display she gifted now, her body like a rock upon his soft mattress, eyelids weighted shut as if with stones.
It took mere moments for her to fall utterly asleep, though her mind seemed averse to the thought of true rest, and soon strange things danced in her sleepy eyes.
The room was dark, though the room was familiar enough. It was her own; a place she had not seen for quite some time, and Gilwen felt within her a sense of familiarity. The same bed lay against the wall, the closet full of a single dress, and a trunk that sat at the foot of her bed full of the rest.
She wanted to change. She had been in this dress for far too long now. It was intended just for riding; she should not wear it out before she had the opportunity to take it upon the plains again. Her steps were steady, though she perhaps felt a little too light for them. Still, with the weight that she had been carrying the past few weeks the lightness seemed a blessing.
She dropped to her knees, her hands going to unlatch the buckles to lift the lid of the trunk, though the metal felt cold against her fingers, and she recoiled for a moment. She frowned, and moved once more to try and get out a new dress. It felt as ice, though she managed to finally undo everything and toss the lid back and open the trunk.
It was a wave of blackness that seemed to pour out from the trunk, and Gilwen frowned as she watched it seemingly wave and pour down the side of her trunk and spill out upon her floor. She felt it against her knees, looking down with a start. Immediately she stood and began to cry out, flicking the hundreds of spiders from her skirts and attempting to evade their masses.
They were covering her. She could not breathe.
She tried to scream, but the spiders had utterly covered her, and no sound came out.
She gasped, sitting up quickly, hands flying over as if in motion to flick something from her person, finally calming enough to cast her eyes out the window. The sun had moved, though not drastically.
She hated the setting of the sun. Gilwen had never felt such cold hatred for anything more than the sun. It marked her time with a mocking warmth until it vanished and left her once more utterly alone and cold in the dark streets of the first tier.
She rose, not even bothering this time to make the bed behind her as she sough her boots and replaced them. She did nothing to straighten her hair, though her grave and sickly expression was sure to draw more attention from people than her mussed locks. She stepped out of the quarters and quietly sought Faeldor. She just wished to be in a bed of her own. She wished to be in a home.
“I would like to go home now,” she whispered as she came upon him in the stall of Balroch, the great and black horse that had made itself new some months ago. It was a deadened sound, her voiced whisper. She did wish to go home, though what Faeldor did not realize was that it was impossible for her to do such a thing.
He would certainly bid her eat before they went, and so she somewhat anxiously awaited it; she did not eat unless it was with him. He had taken great care to feed her, and she had taken great care to hide she needed to be fed. Though for all her attempts, over the past few weeks something had certainly changed about her, and Faeldor was no fool.
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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 Apr 7, 2010 12:01:08 GMT -5
Faeldor’s request was not taken with any opposition, and he watched as Gilwen readied herself, wearily removing her boots, and slipping into the bed. The man watched her for a moment before taking his leave, and was about to speak again, drawing over her to kiss her cheek. Though, before he had even reached the bedside, he saw the difference in her breathing. He withheld, not wishing to disturb the woman.
Heavens, she hardly looked as if she were resting happily. There had been no release of tension from her little body, and she had curled into the tightest ball manageable. The man frowned, unable to do anything for her but pull the blankets nearer her chin, and brush her hair back behind her on the pillow. He then stepped out to leave her in peace, pulling the door shut behind him, that nobody would disturb her.
--- Faeldor was not far from his room, and heard the door open, and the footsteps approach him. They were mouselike, and Gilwen was silent as ever, though he looked up when she drew near, smiling, and hoping to see a like response on her own pretty face. He was duly disappointed, for the young woman’s face was drawn, and as pale, if not moreso, than it had been when she had fallen asleep.
“I would like to go home now.”
She still looked exhausted, and only an hour had passed. “I had expected you to sleep longer,” the man said concernedly. However, he took a few moments to finish with Balroch, setting his tools aside, and moved out of the stall. He did not ask Gilwen if she had rested well, for it appeared that she had not.
Back to his room, the man led Gilwen, and at first glance he saw that she had not remade the bed. He looked to her, his eyes questioning. Certainly he did not demand that his bed be made neatly for him, though Gilwen had always taken care to tidy after herself. Upon inspection of her, he found her face to remain blank, and her eyes dull. Of course he had noted well the paleness of her features, and her lack of expression lately. Her eyes and the heavy movements she made showed that she was not sleeping well.
He tried to be bright. “Marileth brought by supper while you were asleep.” As he spoke, he moved to smooth the blankets upon the bed, and then took Gilwen by the shoulders and sat her down. Faeldor had been careful to always have both lunch and supper for Gilwen. With the loss of her job, he knew not how her family was eating. Though, he did not ask, for she had always become upset before when he showed desire to provide for them. The most he could do was daily offer her those two meals, and she had not turned him down, so he was glad. Meleth was happy to send along an extra serving, and the stables were not too far a distance nor too dangerous, for Marlieth to travel alone to deliver it. The family had certainly missed having Faeldor to supper each evening, but Meleth knew that it would not be long before her grown son moved on anyway, and so she made no protest, and stilled the complaints of the children.
“It smells quite fine indeed.” He moved to the place he had set the basket near the door, and took it up, then joined Gilwen on the edge of the bed. Though before he took anything out, he moved nearer Gilwen to wrap his arms about her petite frame and draw her against him for a moment. “I love you,” he muttered, before drawing back slightly to kiss her cheeks and her lips. “More than I have ever loved anyone or anything, my Starlight.” It had been at least a week since he had kissed her right passionately, and he certainly missed it. Though, he would not press her weary body to do anything that it could not handle. However, his love for her and desire for her blinded slightly the truth of the matter. To him, she simply looked weary, when she was most certainly becoming very ill. Her lack of energy, he was certain, was due to only the simple fact that the job she had held for ten years had been taken away from her, and she knew not what to do.He lingered a few minutes with the woman in his loving embrace, whispering other sweet endearments to her, before finally releasing with her and starting with their supper.
Meleth’s cooking was never lacking. The basket held two covered wooden bowls and utensils, and when the man unwrapped them to hand Gilwen the first, the smell drifted up. Quite a dish it was, of spiced roast beef and boiled carrots and potatoes. On the side were rolls, and fresh green apples. The man watched Gilwen first before he ate. Even after eating a hearty lunch each day with him, she always seemed so hungry again by supper time, and he again wondered if perhaps she was not eating breakfast or anything at all at her home. It would be most like Gilwen to leave as much as she could for her parents. Though, with her relatives staying in the house, they could not be too poorly off. Gilwen had said that her Uncle was purchasing a house in the city, so certainly he could afford enough to provide some meager meals for his brother’s family, as well as his own, while he stayed in their home.
As Faeldor began to eat, he commented lightly. “Lord Denethor is sending me on a second trip to Lossarnach. He liked the news of what I told him of the first, though he wishes that I make a further inspection, and partitions that I come back with the horses I deem best for him to see.” He took a bite of his bread, chewing soundly before finishing what he had dreaded telling Gilwen. “I am leaving early in the morning, and should be back on the afternoon of the fifth day. I will miss your company terribly,” he added quickly. He did not wish her to feel that he was abandoning her; and he was not! Though inwardly he felt guilty that he had to leave her for so long, when she seemed so upset lately, and in need of him to be near.
Though, the thought of food was still on his mind, and he offered, “Mother would like it if you would visit with her. She has been home lately more with the children, as Miriel is too weak lately to watch them. I would not mind seeing her with some help to watch them, and you are quite fine with the little ones.” It was common knowledge to the two of them that Narbeleth, who would usually help with the younger children, was still in Belfalas. Faeldor’s promise to bring her home sooner had ended on Gilwen’s birthday when that fitful group of orcs had come upon him. No sister of his would travel such a long journey without a proper escort in such times, and he would have to wait until he could take the time to go get her. Certainly Gilwen understood and did not wish her in such danger either. “You could even bring your mother; mine is missing her. And Haliel, Eoric, and Diore have been pining for you.”
If he could get Gilwen to his home, Meleth could see her, and perhaps would know what issue was troubling her, and know a remedy. She had raised many children and young adults after all, and knew well the maladies that faced them. And the prospect of Gilwen visiting his home would set him at ease, for he knew that Meleth would always offer her food. If Faeldor had not been able to get her to take a basket home for her family, Meleth certainly would. His mother had a sweet way with words that would let her have her way, and she could not stand to see a person malnourished. Faeldor knew enough realize that Gilwen was exhausted and tiring herself into illness and fatigue; though he did not know the brunt of it!
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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 Apr 7, 2010 15:04:43 GMT -5
“I had expected you to sleep longer.”
So had she. Gilwen sighed inwardly, though forced a small smile for him. It was simply not meant to happen that way. She waited patiently for him to finish his work with the horse, and then quietly allowed him to lead her back to his quarters.
Upon entering, she caught Faeldor’s look of questioning as it passed through him though did nothing to acknowledge it by way of an answer. Indeed the woman felt slightly ill, and did not truly wish to waster her energy on an aimless answer; she was not going to be able to properly explain anyway.
He brought her to his bed once more, smoothing the sheets himself and placing her upon the edge of the bed once more, moving away to fetch the dinner basket tossing words over his shoulder to her in a rather cheery tone. He remarked on how everything smelt fine, and indeed Gilwen agreed, her eyes watching him as he moved. She was eager to eat, certainly. Though she could not seem to even bring a smile to her lips. Everything seemed to be passing so slowly; it felt dreamlike.
He lowered himself beside her, and she was swept up into his arms. “I love you. More than I have ever loved anyone or anything, my Starlight.” She had let him kiss her, though the motion made her feel a wave of unease at the warmth; it left a heavy feeling in the pit of her stomach that she tried to push aside. She offered him a very small smile. She loved him too, though she did not open her mouth nor make a motion to prove such a thing. She felt entirely weighted, and not entirely from exhaustion.
He had handed her food, and she was certainly upon the brink of delving into it greedily, though felt his eyes and ate slowly. She did not wish to give any hint that her plight was worse than he had anticipated. She had lasted this long; there was no need to worry him now.
Her spirits were beginning to raise at nourishment, and Gilwen was silently thankful that Faeldor did wish to care for her and had done so without asking. She would have refused if she had been given the option.
“I am leaving early in the morning, and should be back on the afternoon of the fifth day. I will miss your company terribly.”
Gilwen stopped and looked up with a frown. “The fifth day?” She repeated gravely. Was he to be gone that long? Something about it frightened her. What would she do without him? Sit upon the first tier alone for the entire day? Her mind even flitted frantically to more selfish thoughts; what of meals? Rest? She would no longer be able to steal naps upon his mattress or use his blankets to keep out a chill.
The nights were surely becoming cold.
“Why must you go again?” She half whined, though clamped her mouth shut and turned away.
He countered with an offer to go spend time with his mother, and Gilwen sighed. Yes, she was well enough with children. But she was in no state to let Faeldor’s family see her. She was not a picture of health or brightness or beauty now. She was likely to simply fall asleep upon their sofa and not move until someone had come to bid her go home.
“You could even bring your mother; mine is missing her. And Haliel, Eoric, and Diore have been pining for you.”
Her heart seemed to tear. “…Mama will not be able to make it,” she half whispered. “But I shall visit them.” Perhaps Eoric, Diore and Haliel could fill a bit of the dark void that had been left within her from her own lack of family.
Her mind mulled over slowly in thoughts and the woman frowned some more. Must Denethor take him from her? Faeldor was all she had left; he and the dress he had given her. Did the entire city wish her alone?
“Five days?” She repeated slowly. “Fael, is there nobody else he can send?” Her voice was a bit sharp, for with her unease there was irritability. “You work hard for him already!” She lowered her eyes, a flush of shame coming to her pallid cheeks. “…Sorry. Do travel safely.” She added gently, turning her attention back to her food, though suddenly finding her appetite had left her completely and made no further move to at anything else.
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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 Apr 7, 2010 17:14:27 GMT -5
Gilwen’s face had certainly taken on an emotion. Not that she never bore such, it was just that the past weeks had left her without much; and so the sudden change nearly startled him. “Why must you go again?” The tone of her voice tore at him; the way she spoke pained him.
“Fael, is there nobody else he can send? You work so hard for him already!
She was upset. It was certainly as he thought she would be, and it seemed that she was not herself; for she did not even hide it. She apologized a moment later, though, he was not angry with her. He felt that he understood. She was terribly lonely, it seemed. Without her work to occupy her, and with the wrath that Beregar seemed to have for her, and the way her visiting family treated her, he had no doubt that she was lonely. He reasoned with himself, that perhaps aside from his affection, she had no one’s. Though, was not her mother at least on her side? Gilwen had rarely spoken of Niniel even, as of late, and so he wondered if she had turned away from her daughter as well.
Though he wished her to eat more, she had stopped now, and after a minute, the man took her bowl away and sat it to the side. He would have her eat more before they left, but for now, he saw she was not going to do another thing. He put his aside as well, and moved back on the bed. “Come here now,” he said gently as he leaned against the wall, though he gave the woman no time to respond before pulling her to him, and lifting her upon his lap as he had done many times before. “I have my position because Lord Denethor deems me the best horseman of the city, and he needs my opinion on those matters. It is an honor for me to take this trip for him.”
“It is less than a week, and I promise you all my time after my return. I shall have a few days to rest I am certain. You and I can spend the entirety of the day with me, and both of us will lay in the sunshine of my gardens all day, and play with the children, and my Mother will be sure to make a feast. What do you think of that?” Though, it was as if he had not said enough. How could five days away be cleared by simply promising the sixth to her?
“And there is a house…” He began to ruin his own surprise for her, though he found it a delight to tell her at the very same time. Of course the man had been looking. His intentions for Gilwen were not fleeting, and no matter how long it took Beregar to give him permission, he was going to be her husband, and care for her always. “A house I would like to show you. Fine indeed. A family friend of ours owns it, and they are taking a move back to Belfalas before the winter strikes. I think it is nice. Rather large, though not so as my mother’s, but there are plenty of rooms. Enough that I think it should keep you busy cleaning for a time. Though, I suppose we could find other uses for those rooms than simply cleaning.”
His heart seemed to fill a bit more for the little woman upon his lap, and he held her safely against him. He would give Beregar one more week perhaps. If the man had not changed his mind by then, well, he would take things into his own hands. Beregar had taken enough time to think. Faeldor was going to marry his dear Starlight whether he condoned it or not. In fact, in just a few weeks time, the other family would have moved out of that very house, and Faeldor could make his own payment on it, and it would be his. Theirs. “Yes, when I come back, I will take you there as well. I am sure you will love it, but you will tell me when you see it.” He hoped his words could cheer her slightly, and his hope grew as he planned the event in his mind.
Faeldor smiled, touching Gilwen’s cheek gently. He could take her to that house, and propose to her in that very spot. He had the ring waiting for her, as it had been for some time, yet, he would do so with Beregar’s blessing, that he may share their happiness, or without. He suspected that five days from now, his dear Gilwen would be in the same state she was now, or perhaps better. Perhaps she would rest, with not coming to the stables each day, and he knew she would be glad for his return. It seemed that Faeldor’s mood had lifted, and he could hardly wait to come back to Minas Tirith.
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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 Apr 7, 2010 17:50:59 GMT -5
Her bowl was taken away from her, and Gilwen did not protest. The lady felt very much done with food at that moment, though a part of her knew she would come to regret the decision in the coming days. He had bid her to come into his lap, though she had not the energy to move, nor indeed was her heart light enough to bring herself to do so either. It was well then he scooped her to him himself, in the familiar motion that left her upon his lap, and even through her muddled thoughts and ailing body, Gilwen was comforted by it.
“I have my position because Lord Denethor deems me the best horseman of the city, and he needs my opinion on those matters. It is an honor for me to take this trip for him.”
She tucked her head against him, unable to find strength enough to hold her own at that moment and quietly listened, eyes closing wearily as she felt the hum of his voice tickle her against his neck. Yes; Gilwen had understood all of that once. It was an honor to serve the Steward. She had once held that honor. She had slaved for that honor.
And now the honor had been taken away completely, and Gilwen was useless.
A swell of displeasure and moroseness overtook her again, though she did not shed a single tear, nor did she look as if she were going to cry. Such emotions had been utterly ripped from her over the past two weeks; there was nothing left in her by way of tears.
He continued speaking, weaving promises of sitting with her in his gardens under the sunshine upon his return. It sounded lovely; but she would need last those five days first. Still, she did not offer anything by way of sound and instead let him keep the flow of conversation going on his own, though this subject matter surprised her a bit.
A house?
Gilwen’s mind was not well enough to process the meaning behind the discussion of a house, and it took her until near the end of the ramblings for her to understand that Faeldor intended for that to be their home together. “I think it is nice. Rather large, though not so as my mother’s, but there are plenty of rooms. Enough that I think it should keep you busy cleaning for a time. Though, I suppose we could find other uses for those rooms than simply cleaning.”
He finished by assuring her she would love it, and there was a moment of stunned silence. Slowly, she began to speak. “…what would you use the rooms for?” She asked tentatively. She had never had to worry about uses of rooms. She had always had just enough for bedrooms and a living room, a kitchen and dining nook beside it. Now she had even fewer rooms, and everything from kitchen to dining table and sofa were all in one room.
Faeldor and his family did have a large house, and Gilwen had not seen all of the rooms herself. And Lord Denethor had plenty amongst the palace walls, too. Rooms that half the time the woman had not understood what the purpose of it was.
She felt her cheek brushed by Faeldor’s knuckle. Their was something about the touch that told Gilwen he had turned his mind to other, fairer things than simply a house and a part of her was curious. But she was far too weary to even think about asking, or to truly let herself be curious long.
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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 Apr 7, 2010 21:32:34 GMT -5
“…What would you use the rooms for?”
The simple question caused Faeldor to smile wider, though from the way the woman nestled against him, she could not see it. “Well I do not know for certain yet, as to how many we would need; I’m sure we should find a purpose for them,” he started, though it seemed that Gilwen had not been catching his meaning. Perhaps she was too exhausted for even that. “The Master bedroom overlooks the back garden. There is a fine door that opens into a small balcony. When the weather is nice we will have quite the lovely breeze. And our first child might have the bedroom across the hall as her nursery,” he hummed slightly. “We will have to see what to do with the others as time goes on I think.”
He hoped that talk of lovely things would cheer her slightly. The present was not entirely wonderful, and he knew little of how un-wonderful her own present life was. Yet, the future, to Faeldor looked brilliant. She would like to think about those little things of loveliness it was certain. What it would be like to spend each day and night with his pretty lady. The thought of waking up beside her each morning was very appealing.
“I think it will storm soon,” Faeldor muttered suddenly, as the wind seemed to pick up outdoors, and the sky darkened. “Perhaps I should take you home before it starts…” he wondered, leaning forward to look out the window, though sitting back again and making no motion to get up or move Gilwen from his lap.
“Would your father put you in a terrible amount of trouble if I simply keep you here with me all night?” he whispered. Perhaps it was the fact that he was to be away for so long that made the man wish selfishly to keep Gilwen by his side. Though the way she had been acting concerned him definitely. Right now though, she seemed as if she had calmed down slightly. “If you do not object…” he added. Though, his inward feeling was that she very well would not object. The wind began to howl, and Faeldor was certain now that it would storm. He buried his face in the woman’s hair, kissing the top of her head. “Would you like that? Then I should see you first thing in the morning, and it will only be as if I am away four days, instead of five.”
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Gilwen
Man
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There are times when silence has the loudest voice.[Mo0:0]
Posts: 593
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Post by Gilwen on Apr 7, 2010 22:17:09 GMT -5
“Well I do not know for certain yet, as to how many we would need; I’m sure we should find a purpose for them.”
Gilwen did not understand. She frowned a bit more, though as she tried to. She was certain that he was speaking to her in a way that she should understand, though became frustrated that she could not do so. “And our first child might have the bedroom across the hall as her nursery.” Gilwen did smile slightly, a lightness coming into her heart at the thought. A room for their children. He said that the home had many rooms. Did he wish for a child to fill each one?
Her mind had trailed to less dour thoughts now. “We will have to see what to do with the others as time goes on I think.” She sighed, and cuddled into him all the more.
“You said ‘her nursery’. Do you not wish first for a son?” The question was tentative, and quiet. Though, Gilwen was truly interested. Normally men wished first for a son to carry on the family name. It was a woman’s honor to bear a son; the way a wife was marked as a true mother. He was the firstborn of his family; a strapping and strong son to be the pride of his parents. And while she knew Meleth loved all of her children, a part of her wondered if the woman felt it was a blessing for Faeldor to be her oldest and not one of her daughters.
Her mother loved her; her father had at one point thought the world of her. They had cast aside the notion of having a son, though Gilwen did not know if it was because they knew they had no hopes of getting one, or if it was because they truly thought a daughter was every bit as lovely as a son.
She wished to know, for her own sake. She loved Faeldor, and she wished nothing more than to bear him a son worthy of his name.
He observed that it was about to start storming, and inwardly Gilwen returned to a state of sadness. She would find no cover for herself should it rain, and she desperately wished to retain what health she had left; she could feel herself draining as it were. She had already noticed that perhaps her temperature had begun to climb, though it was subtle and hardly noticeable. It was enough for her to feel the change. She did not wish for him to take her home.
“Would your father put you in a terrible amount of trouble if I simply keep you here with me all night? If you do not object…”
Gilwen felt herself cringe. “No more than I have already found myself in,” she said plainly, though evaded specifying that her father would never need know, and there was nothing worse than the disgrace of being cast upon the streets.
“Would you like that? Then I should see you first thing in the morning, and it will only be as if I am away four days, instead of five.”
She felt him cuddle into her hair and smiled, for the first time in a while relaxing in her muscles. The talk of their children had led her to a happy thought about marriage. Someday, all of their nights would be passed like this. They would be able to stay with each other without worry over parents and propriety; it would be right and normal for them to stay the night in each other’s arms. It would sustain them both with warmth and fair dreams.
“I shall stay,” she murmured quietly, though perhaps a bit brighter than she had sounded all day.
Perhaps she needed simply to tell him that Beregar had kicked her out; that now was the time for them to simply wed without his consent. He had left his daughter free to do such a thing! Oh, but Gilwen could not utter the words to Faeldor. He was so contented there with her upon his lap, she did not wish to destroy his happiness.
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Faeldor
Man
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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 Apr 8, 2010 9:12:30 GMT -5
“You said ‘her nursery’. Do you not wish first for a son?”
“Well, in truth I wish for whatever child we are gifted, whether a daughter or son,” the man stated, letting his hand fall to Gilwen’s stomach to touch it lightly. He frowned slightly at the feel of it. Her ribs seemed to be jutting out in a way they had not before, and he could even feel it through the cloth of her dress. He said nothing though. He would simply try to feed her more. A woman did not enjoy her weight commented upon, and to say she was too thin would upset her.
“Though I will say my mother has had the most luck of any in our family in bearing sons; and she had two, which is near unheard of for the house of Melanir, and his father and grandfather before him. I have four sisters. And my father had many siblings as well, one brother, indeed, but five sisters. His brother is gifted with five daughters of his own, and in combination now I believe the cousins I have by those aunts, is perhaps, two sons, and at let me think… sixteen daughters. I have always been quite well surrounded by little girls.” The man laughed slightly, raising his hand again to brush through Gilwen’s hair.
“I am just making the assumption that if we should have one child, she would be a little girl, and if we should have more than one child, they will be mostly little girls, if not all. Any child I should have with you would be lovely. As long as we do not have one before we are wed. That would be terrifying to me, if you so remember,” he managed to laugh out.
Such a revelation had been brought about by Gilwen’s last stay with him here in the stables, and for a moment he thought she would deny him the priviledge. Her father had been very upset the first time around, though, it seemed that Gilwen was not as concerned with her father’s thoughts lately anyhow. Afterall, he must know that she had been coming to stay with him each day in the stables.
“I shall stay.”
The man smiled. “You will sleep well tonight, my love.” It seemed that since that very night of her birthday some weeks ago, he had not slept so comfortably. One would think that upon being used to having their own bed, that sharing the space would take time to get used to. Though, Faeldor seemed to feel otherwise. For one who tossed and turned, perhaps the space was necessary, but with Gilwen comfortably against him, Faeldor had hardly moved the night. Well, he had fallen out of his bed once. Though, that was unaccounted for, and highly unusual for the man.
The wind seemed to pick up and howl against the stone walls. “I should shut that window,” Faeldor finally commented. “Though, I do need to run home and let my family know that I will be away the next days. I best do that before the rain comes down,” he said thoughtfully. “Would you like to come with me?” he wondered aloud, as he moved Gilwen from his lap, though he took back his question as soon as he stood up and looked at her.
“No, actually, you stay here. Marileth mentioned that Miriel was having a riotous day. She might be quieting down by now, but then, I would rather you have a pleasant evening, and none of my sister’s wrath. You stay here…” He picked up her unfinished bowl, and sat it back beside her. “You finish your meal before I return, and we will sleep early tonight. I am sure tomorrow will be a long day for both of us, and I don’t wish to leave you exhausted in the morn.” He winked at the woman, smiling and grabbing his cloak, before turning to leave.
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Gilwen
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There are times when silence has the loudest voice.[Mo0:0]
Posts: 593
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Post by Gilwen on Apr 8, 2010 10:33:02 GMT -5
“Well, in truth I wish for whatever child we are gifted, whether a daughter or son.”
Gilwen nuzzled herself closer to him, smiling slightly at his words, watching as his hand lightly brushed against her stomach. A part of her grew nervous that he touched her; surely she felt gaunt and different. Though, he did not seem to notice, or at least did not speak on it, and she let herself relax once more as he continued speaking on children.
It seemed entirely warm; her heart felt filled with a happier feeling than she had grown used to as of late, and her mind trailed dutifully behind Faeldor’s words, smiling more as she once more turned her mind to their own children that he had promised her. “I am glad your mother is lucky with her sons,” she commented quietly. Else, Faeldor would not be here to hold her. And right now, this was what she needed.
“I am just making the assumption that if we should have one child, she would be a little girl, and if we should have more than one child, they will be mostly little girls, if not all. Any child I should have with you would be lovely. As long as we do not have one before we are wed. That would be terrifying to me, if you so remember.”
“We shall wait,” Gilwen said plainly, though perhaps somewhat sadly. He was never going to get her father’s permission now. She was certainly in no state of health to bear children as she was, though time also seemed against her now. Any little one she bore would be a blessing, and Gilwen inwardly prayed that one day she would be able to gift Faeldor with a child of his own. It would do both of them a service of great happiness. He seemed perfectly fit for the role of parenthood. “Your little girls shall be lucky to have such a great father,” she said slowly. A great part of her missed her own father, though a part had also resigned to the fact he no longer wished to see her. It tore her heart, and the woman nuzzled herself into Faeldor all the more; he would not leave her. He would love her, and he would someday love their children, though perhaps he already loved them. She certainly did.
He seemed happy that she decided to stay; yes, she would sleep well this night. And she would cherish it, for the next few days would be with no rest.
The wind had picked up again, moaning as it whipped the stone walls and paths of the city, a chilling and lonely sound that certainly meant the storm was to come soon.
Faeldor remarked how he should speak to his family about his departure in the morning, offering her an invitation to come as he moved her from his lap and set her once more upon the bed. “No, actually, you stay here. Marileth mentioned that Miriel was having a riotous day. She might be quieting down by now, but then, I would rather you have a pleasant evening, and none of my sister’s wrath. You stay here…”
Gilwen looked up at him blankly, though took the bowl thrust at her. “Hurry back,” she murmured, though as to not seem dependent she added, “It shall begin to rain soon.” A part of her wished to go with him. She did not wish to be alone anymore. She wanted to sit with him, stand by him, perhaps see little Eoric and hold him for a time.
Gilwen was desperate for any interaction she could come by. It was certainly a draining existence, being alone. She watched him fetch his cloak and leave, though waited until she could no longer hear his footsteps to begin to eat once more. Silent tears began to stream down her cheeks.
Faeldor had a heart of pure gold; he loved and cared for her. Her own father cast her out upon the streets. Faeldor surely would never do anything of the sort to his own daughters. She needed him; her own nature could not be happy unless she was able to care for and provide for something, and without her family, she had nobody to tend to. And while Faeldor would not allow her much by way of doting or coddling, she could certainly keep his home nicely cleaned, and she could learn to feed him well. And someday, she would have babies to tend to that would certainly need all of her attention.
She had finished eating quickly, replacing the bowl into the basket with a sigh. She was tired; but she would wait for Faeldor to return. She wished to see him lay down beside her so she would know he held her close.
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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 Apr 8, 2010 21:47:58 GMT -5
“I will not be long,” the man promised with a smile, and without another word, he was gone.
Not half an hour later, the man had made the return trip from his home, in hand a travelling bag that he had packed, while meanwhile his mother had packed a bag of food for breakfast and the journey. He was glad for his mother to always send with him far too much, for he would be able to have breakfast with Gilwen before his departure. Then they could ride Lumiel together, and he would leave her at the first tier, in hopes that her father would not place a dour punishment on her for being gone the night.
“There see, I was hardly away,” was the first thing he said, moving to hang his cloak upon the hook and shake out his hair. Droplets of water scattered themselves near the doorway, and he tossed his quickly packed travelling bag on the floor near his desk.. “The rain started just as I left my house, but it is to no avail, for I can sprint quicker than nature can release her fury.” He laughed, and moved about the room, putting his things away, and sat down heavily in his desk chair, pulling a parchment to write down the orders for the following days. He had already spoken with his grooms, and the head stablehand, so things should be in order; but Faeldor was meticulous and wished to make certain that nothing was out of place in his absence.
“Mother said that she will be glad for you to stop by these next days. She said something about a baking lesson.” His voice was smiling, while he continued to write, and the room began to darken with the weather, so he stood a moment to light the lamp on the wall. Faeldor had expressed his concern for Gilwen to his mother, and she assured him that when the woman came by she would keep an eye out to see if she was well, and to offer her a meal no matter the time of day. However, he would not mention this to Gilwen, for she would surely be upset for the concern on her own behalf.
“And Haliel has something new to show you as well. She has apparently taught her cat a new trick, though I have yet to see it. She went on and on, I could barely tear myself away from her. My that little kitten is growing quite large, though still rather affectionate. It sleeps in her bed, and amuses her greatly, and it’s done a fine job of keeping the mice in line. I haven’t seen Miriel upon a chair with a broom in months now.” He signed the letter, and replaced his ink and pen, finally returning to his lady, who still sat upon the bed, and looking to her closely.
“You were crying.” His voice was concerned, and he wiped at the tears which had fallen down Gilwen’s cheeks. They were mostly dry by now, and the lines and traces of them stayed right thereAre you going to tell me what has been troubling you, dear one? He wondered, but did not ask, suspecting it to be the same burdens as usual. The loss of her job. The loss of her good name. The loss of her loving father. He did not wish her to dwell on those things right now, nor to break down. She had obviously been upset while he was away, and since he had returned, he was going to try his hardest to cheer her.
Faeldor moved on the bed slightly, and began to lift Gilwen’s feet one at a time to remove her boots for her, first one, then the next, and her stockings as well. Her small feet were bared to him, and he was quite amazed at how cold her toes were. He held them on his lap, trying to rub warmth into them with his hands. “My, you feel so cold,” he commented. He was certain that the boots he had gotten for her would keep her warm, though, perhaps it was just her stress and fatigue. Her body did not have the spare energy to keep itself warm. The man worked on her feet until he felt a tinge of circulation return to them.
Without a word, he put her feet down, and started to remove her outergarments for her. She hardly seemed to have the energy to do it herself, and he stood her up to finish, and pulled back the covers of his bed. “Lay down, Gilwen, on your stomach. Rest your head on the pillow,” he told her, his words seemingly few, though, his hands spoke for him. He conscientiously covered her toes, that she might not get cold again, and then sat himself on the edge of the bed beside her. While the thunder came, and the sky darkened more outside the window, he began to lovingly knead his hand across the woman’s back, working from her shoulders down with strong, yet gentle hands. My! Was she ever tense! Her shoulders felt knotted and stiff beneath his touch, as if she had held herself still for weeks and slept upon a stone mattress.
“If you cannot relax for anything else, you may at least for me,” he said quietly, stilling his hand for a moment as he leaned to brush Gilwen’s hair aside and press a kiss to the back of her neck. Then he resumed his ministrations for a long while, kneading from her neck again to her lower back and her sides, and singing softly as he did so. Faeldor doubted that Gilwen usually would have allowed him to dote on her so, though she seemed hardly alert this day. He enjoyed letting his hands care for her, however, it was not only her exhaustion that distressed him, but the way he felt every bone beneath her garments. He was trying to calm her, so now was not the time to tell her that she was desperately too thin, and so his mind was at work as he went, wondering how he might pose the subject to her without giving her offense.
“There, my darling,” he said after a long while, running his hands smoothly along the woman’s back. “I hope that feels better…” He finally released her, and moved to take his own boots and garments off, stripping down to his breeches only, and walking across the cold stone floor to blow out the lantern. The room was nearly black without it, though on a normal day, it would have only been going on dusk. The sounds of the storm seemed illuminated with the light vanquished, and the rain pattered hard outside and on the roof, while thunder rumbled, and lightning lit the sky every so often. Faeldor moved back to the bed, scooting himself near Gilwen, and pulled the covers over the both of them.
“We certainly would have been caught in that storm had we walked all the way to your home. It is a good thing you decided to stay here with me. It is sure to be very cold tonight, and I will keep you warm. I do not wish you to be cold,” he muttered, and kissed the tip of Gilwen’s nose in the dark as he brought her little body against him. “You will be warm and safe with me here. No raging storm or cold to harm you with its grips. And you will rest well and deep. I think you are becoming ill, even though you are not telling me,” he finally stated his inward thoughts. “But I need my Starlight to be well. You rest soundly tonight. We can sleep now, and there are plenty of hours until dawn, so do not worry about waking yourself early.” Faeldor sighed, as if commanding her to sleep well would alleviate his distress for her. Though, she had slept well in his arms last time, and certainly she would tonight as well. He had no doubts for that.
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Gilwen
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servant
There are times when silence has the loudest voice.[Mo0:0]
Posts: 593
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Post by Gilwen on Apr 9, 2010 9:17:21 GMT -5
Faledor had returned, and immediately she had felt herself ease and almost sigh. No, he had not been gone that long. He prattled contentedly to her, filling the silent room with pleasant chatter, though the subject of his talk seemed far off from Gilwen. The entire room seemed foggy and hazy, and the woman blinked forcibly to try and sharpen her vision. The darkness was not helping her eyes, though Gilwen inwardly knew it was not the light that was affecting her.
“You were crying.”
Gilwen looked to him for a moment, though could think of nothing to rightly say in response. Where normally she would have sought to comfort him and deny her tears, she no longer had the energy. He moved to brush away her tears, though her face itself was warm and the touch was somewhat too hot. The rest of her was cold, though. Goodness she felt unwell.
He began to move, taking care to remove her boots for her. She did not have the energy to protest, however, and allowed him to work as he wished. Though it seemed that the moment her little feet were freed from her stockings and boots, Faeldor’s hands had discovered her chill. “My, you feel so cold.” Gilwen did not answer, though did not protest to his attentions; his hands worked until she could very well begin to feel her little toes once more, and for a moment she felt a little better.
She knew she should undress herself, though a part of her had become used to not doing so for the location of her sleeping. Faeldor, though, took care of her, gingerly removing her outerwear and readying the bed for them. She almost eagerly sought to lay down and sleep, though it seemed he had a different plan. He ordered her to lay down, and she complied far too exhausted to truly argue on her behalf.
The thunder picked up and the sky darkened, but his hands remained steady and comforting as they began to gently massage her strained and hardened muscles. As he told her to relax, she sighed, and buried her head his pillow tiredly, a spark of a smile bidding to show itself as he kissed the back of her neck. His motions felt good, and the sound of his voice as he began to hum and sing to her quieted her spirit.
She had near fallen asleep by the time he had finished, and while she was barely able to keep her eyes open she turned to watch him as he readied himself for sleep as well. “Thank you,” she whispered in the darkness as he crossed back to the bed to lie down. Someday they would be together, she told herself. She already knew he was her only happiness.
He slid into bed beside her, only his silhouette being seen against the tumultuous blackness of the storm outside. She wished to be nearer, though had not the energy to truly move herself, so instead just laid there. He kissed her nose and drew her against him, though, and Gilwen was given her closeness. She cuddled into him immediately, closing her eyes with a small sigh.
“You will be warm and safe with me here. No raging storm or cold to harm you with its grips. And you will rest well and deep. I think you are becoming ill, even though you are not telling me…”
As he began to speak, she fell asleep, nuzzling herself all the more against him. She wished for dawn to never come; she did not wish for him to leave her in the morning, and she did not wish to once more return to the streets.
A little sigh escaped her as she seemed to finally rest. Faeldor’s tender affection had done well to allow her the ability to relax well enough, and with him there beside her she could feel secure, no threat of foul men coming upon her. She was in the arms of the finest man in Arda.
--
Her dreams were strange and eerie, though the woman was too exhausted to wake from them. Even as morning crept nearer, the normal early riser remained deeply asleep. Her body was too weary this night to rise of its own accord, and even as the night sky began to lighten, she did not move against the stable master at all.
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Faeldor
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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 Apr 12, 2010 15:39:22 GMT -5
Even as Faeldor had finished speaking, he knew that Gilwen had already fallen asleep against him. Her body had lost all tenseness, and she was breathing softly against him now. He did not wish to disturb her, but he moved slightly to lay kisses upon her, and he let his hands make gentle motions over her back for a long while. It likely did little to comfort the sleeping body beside him, though it comforted the man himself. He wished to care in all ways for his lady, and knew not how.
She was ill. It was evident to him now. Gilwen, even when tired, enjoyed to simply sit with him, or lay beside him. While at times he had attempted to care for her, she did not allow him to do so without at least some form of protest. She was so exhausted though this eve, and he knew well that she had already rested during the day, and done not much more than scrub at the windowsill, and sit at his desk looking out. The thought of the woman being ill worried him, and he gently pressed his hand against Gilwen’s forehead, feeling the slight feverishness that had overtaken her. He sighed, slowly sneaking his arms from around her as he went to his washbasin to dip a cloth. Perhaps the rest would do her well, though the man would still take attempt to fight her illness, and as he moved back to the bed and again slid beside her, he slowly pressed the cloth against her forehead, laying it there, and eventually returning his arms to the woman.
Her mother would notice, he was certain, as soon as she entered that house tomorrow. Certain that when he returned Gilwen to her home, Niniel would see to her, Faeldor eventually let his mind to drift, though as he lay awake for a short time, the tedium of the storm outside, and the comfort of the body beside him, eventually lulled him to sleep.
---
The night was still dark as the man awoke, though, with a glance toward the window, he could see the grey traces of early morning. Gilwen had not moved all the night, and was still curled into him, despite Faeldor having shifted. Her body had kept warm near his own, though, when the man moved to slowly rise from the bed, he looked upon her face, and it did not appear peaceful. Her brow was furrowed in her sleep, and though the man moved from the bed, he kneeled beside it for a moment, observing her, and then moved in to kiss her forehead. His hand cupped the side of the woman’s head, and he brushed his thumb against her temple, hoping to rid her of her tense expression. “Gilwen, we will depart soon,” he whispered to her, though made no motion to rouse her completely. She could rest a bit longer before he would be ready.
At that, the man dressed quickly, putting on his traveling gear; and his thick overtunic. The rain was still coming down, and it was sure to be a cold ride to Lossarnach. He would press Lumiel, it was certain, and make the way as quickly as possible. He left his room as quietly as possible, and shut the door behind him. It was not long before Lumiel had been fed and watered, saddled and packed, with his sword strapped at her side. The thunder rumbled lightly as Faeldor made his way back to the room, intent on rousing Gilwen this time. As much as he wished to delay his departure and be with her, he needed to fulfill his orders from the Steward and set out at first light. He would order Gilwen to return to bed as soon as they reached her home.
“Now, my love,” he started, moving back to the bed, where he moved to sit back down on the mattress, taking some moment’s to simply watch the woman and brush his fingers against her hair, before speaking again. “Now it is time to rise, dearheart. We had a long rest, and I must take you home before I leave the city. The storm is quickening and believe it will go on for some time, but you will ride safe and dry against me, and be back in your own bed sooner than you know,” he smiled lightly, gently rubbing his hands over the woman’s sleepy shoulders. He noted that her little body had already begun to feel cold after he had left her side, though, a brush of her forehead told him that she was still slightly fevered. When it appeared that she had awoke, the man could not help but smile, and lift her fragile body slightly, pulling the lady right back into his lap, and drawing with her one of the blankets, to keep firmly about her shoulders.
“My Starlight, I love you,” he said, pressing his bearded cheek against hers. “I promise that I will return to you as soon as I can, and if you are feeling as ill as you seem, the days will surely pass quickly, for I expect you will rest warm in your bed and sleep more.” The man’s heart ached slightly. How could it be that he had loved and cared for his family all of these years, yet felt not so troubled on any previous travels? His love for Gilwen had certainly rooted itself more deeply than anything he knew, and his firm embrace told her so. He held her tightly for a minute or two, before sliding her back to the edge of the bed, and moving to hand her stockings and boots, and the remainder of her clothing, that she need not walk across the cold stone floor to retrieve them. “Now, you dress, and we shall be off. Won’t it be nice to ride together for a little while? Despite the rain. I will not let you get wet nor cold,” he promised. Indeed, he would pull the woman right against him in the saddle ,and wrap her up within his cloak. There would be no need or reason to chill her heedlessly. As he stood he put on his own tunic and riding gloves, and smoothed his curls back out of his face.
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Gilwen
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There are times when silence has the loudest voice.[Mo0:0]
Posts: 593
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Post by Gilwen on Apr 12, 2010 19:49:45 GMT -5
Something tender was stroking her cheek and temple, though Gilwen barely moved under the gentle touch. It was not harmful; the touch was not dangerous. She was too exhausted to see it.
“Now it is time to rise, dearheart. We had a long rest, and I must take you home before I leave the city. The storm is quickening and believe it will go on for some time, but you will ride safe and dry against me, and be back in your own bed sooner than you know.”
It was upon his first word that she had begun to finally rise from the bed. She was utterly fatigued, drowsy and uncomfortable. She was completely reluctant to rouse, though did so; Faeldor needed her to rise from bed. My own bed. Gilwen sighed, though said nothing to Faeldor in response. Yes, she would spend much time in her own bed, a spot of pavement that would be near drowned with the water that had fallen from the sky since the night before. It was dreadfully depressing, and the woman’s frown did not leave her because of the matter.
It did not seem that Faeldor took any notice, or at least did not mind; indeed he was smiling grandly. He had swept her up into his arms, placing her upon his lap and wrapping his arms fully about her and a blanket about her shoulders, both keeping her sufficiently warm.
“My Starlight, I love you. I promise that I will return to you as soon as I can, and if you are feeling as ill as you seem, the days will surely pass quickly, for I expect you will rest warm in your bed and sleep more.”
As he spoke of returning, she wrapped her arms about him tightly, nearly clinging to him. She wished to cry; he was going to leave her, and she greatly did not wish him to go. A part of her was worried for the orcs upon the field, and he was surely dressed to travel, and the sight was almost too much for Gilwen to bear.
He eventually moved to release her, and Gilwen was reluctant to release him. Still, she eventually allowed herself to, and watched as he handed her her boots and stockings. She almost sobbed as she took them into her hand, though obediently replaced them on her feet.
Her mind was in utter turmoil, though she did well not to let it result in tears. The thunder was still rumbling outside, and she was entirely frightened. This storm was bad, and she was to keep herself in the middle of it all upon the first tier. She finished and stood, crossing immediately to Faeldor, as if she could not stand being away.
She smoothed his tunic quickly, frowning still. She did not wish to see him go away; she wished him to stay with her. Gracious, she felt ill. “You will be safe?” She asked quietly. “I do not like that you are going alone.”
He needed to come back to her. He needed to; she could not stand the thought of losing him. She wished to crawl right back into bed, and for him to stay beside her safely. She knew she was getting sick, but more so she knew her heart was going to be the second he dropped her off upon the first tier.
Maybe it was time to simply tell him. No, she could not do that. He would worry for her. Though, perhaps Meleth. Today, when she went to visit Meleth, surely she would draw it from her anyway. The woman had a way of easing someone to speech.
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Faeldor
Man
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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 Apr 12, 2010 22:16:27 GMT -5
“You will be safe? I do not like that you are going alone.”
“I will be safe. And I am not solo. My horse is a trustworthy companion, I say. Lumiel is swift as a windstorm, and with this rain I do not plan on stopping anyway. Perhaps to give her water and a short rest, but I will be there before sundown. Neither Lumiel nor I will let down our guard.” Faeldor hoped to assure her with his words. It was rightful for her to worry, after the incident on her birthday eve. Yet, he did know that he would not cast an eye away from alertness on this venture.
“I must return, my love, for you are here,” he said. As she fussed with his tunic, Faeldor grasped her lightly at the waist, and pulled her near, against his chest. “You know that I will always come for you. You know I will give all I have to return to you, and how very relieved I will be to see you. I despise leaving you for so many days, but indeed now it is at least less than five.”
Faeldor was at this time trying to assure himself as well. It would only be a few days. Then he would be home again, and lovely Gilwen could be near him once more. He smiled, reminding himself that he would indeed see her again in just a few days. In just a few days he would make one last trip to see Beregar. Well, he hoped it would not be his last trip to see Beregar, but it would certainly be his last time requesting Gilwen’s hand from him. If it was not offered to him by her father with this last chance, he would simply take it that the man had lost all sense, and he would marry this precious woman without Beregar’s permission.
The man smiled contently, holding Gilwen against him, though eventually moving to see to the buttons on her coat. He stooped to kiss each of her cheeks gently, and pressed a short kiss to her lips, before finally releasing her, and taking her out of his room, to where Lumiel was waiting. “Here we are, darling, I think this should be the best part of my ride today,” he said cheerfully, as he helped Gilwen atop the horse, and soon moved up behind her, tucking her back against his chest. He raised her hood, and with his cloak and arm wrapped securely about her, waved his farewell to the early morning stablehands, who had come to work a short time earlier, drenched, though ready for a new day.
The moment they exited the stables, the cold rain hit Faeldor’s face and sent a chill through him, and he made the greatest attempt to shield Gilwen within his cloak and against him; keeping her rather dry for the ride. He did not wish her illness to worsen afterall, and she would be warm against his body. Soon the dreadfully cold months of winter rain would be upon them, and he did not wish her health compromised for them. He wondered, what would Gilwen do these days without him. She had spent every day since her loss of work and his last return, with him at the stables, and she had taken near every meal with him. Certainly in her illness though, her family would look after her well, for even if her father was harsh to her, it was no benefit to him to have a weak and ill woman living in his household. They would care for her, he assured himself.
Faeldor travelled mostly in silence through the course of the tiers. The streets were stark empty with the hour and the weather, and so Lumiel’s pace was quicker than usual, and one by one they passed, down and down, until they had come upon the very first. Faeldor was almost to his leave of the city, where he decided that he would gallop Lumiel for some time to keep both of them warm against the weather. Though, first, he must leave his beloved before the Great Gate of the city. Just a few houses before her own, he stilled Lumiel. “Here is your doorstep, love,” the man said, slightly sad, as he swung himself down from the horse, and lifted the weak woman to the ground.
“Best that we do not carry this out, for I know we both wish to stay with one another, and the longer we stand in the street, the more we are only stalling our parting. And I would not have you any more ill than you are already. The rain is no good for you. Do promise me that you will rest plenty today, and the whole while I am gone. And mind you, I promise that I will return back for you. I will not be away long.” Faeldor sighed, grasping Gilwen lightly, though then pulling her back against him. “I love you, and I will come home soon.”
He kissed her cheeks and her forehead once more, then her eyelids, her jaw, and her lips. Though, the man found that every moment he stalled with her, the tighter his grip upon her. It were as if his heart foretold the future and bid him not to leave her alone. “I love you,” he repeated once more, rocking gently with the woman in his arms. Finally, he released a quaking sigh. “Go inside and warm,” he said as he released her the last time and sadly turned to once more mount Lumiel. He almost tore back to the woman, but instead, he gripped the saddle and pulled himself up once more. “I will see you in a few days,” he promised, before riding off to the Great Gate, stealing a glance and a wave back to her before he was out of sight; and upon the plains beyond.
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