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 18, 2010 21:11:22 GMT -5
The woman fell asleep as Faeldor had suspected, and even after her breathing had calmed, and her tears stilled against him, he held her. Still humming slightly and rocking, he frowned to himself. What was he to do with her? Would she wake again as soon as he lay her back to rest?
Some minutes passed, and eventually Faeldor moved ever so slowly, turning and sliding the woman from his lap back onto the bed, though even as he moved her, her hands did not release from the fabric of his shirt and he found himself leaning half over the woman, and slightly stuck. She seemed to Faeldor to be rousing again, and the last thing he wished for her to do was wake up in upset once more. It could not be good for her weak body to go through such periods of panic and stress.
Faeldor eventually gave in to himself and moved further onto the bed himself. As he tucked the blankets back up over them, he lay down beside her, and even in her dead slumber she seemed to burrow against him. The man let himself relax with the woman against him, though his eyes did not close. He simply stroked her hair, and willed himself not to be further upset than he was. His mind had turned back to Beregar, and how he had managed to throw his daughter out on the street and have her suffer so. Niniel had surely been upset. It appeared that the woman thought Gilwen had been staying with him all along though, and Faeldor wished it had been so.
How had he not known! She had been so exhausted, and slept so fitfully. She was always freezing, and hungry. And while he had known that she was using the washbasin in his room to clean herself, he had only assumed it was because she did not wish to spend the extra moments it took her to do that in her parent’s home. Beregar had before been cruel to her, locking her in her room, and saying such insidious words to her… he had only imagined that it had worsened considerably after she had lost her position as a serving woman in the Steward’s halls.
Slowly, Faeldor had detached Gilwen’s little fingers from his shirt, and moved a slight away from her. Everytime he moved though it seemed that even in her sleep her heart and breathing quickened. She was sure to wake again if he took his place back upon the chair. He turned slightly on the bed and slowly rolled himself off the edge, moving to the basin of cool water that his mother had been bathing Gilwen’s face in earlier. He took the rag and wrung it, and then quickly moved back across the room to the bed, slowly easing back beside Gilwen. To care for her would help to ease his mind, and he placed the cool cloth over her brow. He would not wish to overheat her more. With a fevered body, she should have no more than the blanket covering her he knew, though she would still likely feel cold, but it would not be good to allow her against him now.
Faeldor lay on the edge, though to comfort the woman with his presence, his hand did not leave hers. If she were to wake again, she would easily find him. Though, if she were to move closer to him, there was not much else he could do, for he could no more roll over much more than he could fall off the bed. He thought for a moment that perhaps it was not simply her illness and the possibility of her overheating that put him at unease to lay beside her.
But, the very fact that he was in his own bedroom in his household. His mother might walk in at any moment, or one of his siblings. Surely they would not think ill of him for comforting Gilwen. He had slept beside her before, but those three nights had been between him and Gilwen alone, and they knew that they had not broken their propriety. Others could think differently though. Surely the fact that she was so ill assured him that his mother would not think wrongly and be upset by this.
Gilwen’s face had relaxed, even amidst the storm, and Faeldor found himself finally able to relax. He felt his body lose some tension, and he lost himself in a trail of thoughts as he gently caressed Gilwen’s little hand. Eventually his eyelids drooped and he fell into his own restful sleep.
---
“Faeldor…”
The words were soft in his ear, and the man slowly pulled himself from sleep to find the early colors of the morning twilight coming through the window, and the silhouette of Meleth standing near over him. His mother had never been one to startle him awake, and so, he slowly came from his state and looked up at her, though in a slight confusion at her expression.
Then Faeldor realized the awkwardness of his situation, to be laying in bed beside Gilwen with his mother in the room. He tried to move and sit up slightly but in his sleep, Gilwen’s body had moved toward the warmth of his own, and he found himself with the woman pressed closely against him on one side, her face buried against his chest, and her hands once more clinging to his shirt lightly in her sleep. On the other side was air. Which Faeldor realized as he tried to roll over, and fell completely out of the bed, landing on the floor at Meleth’s feet.
The mother smiled slightly, covering her mouth to avoid laughing at her son’s expense, and she gave him a questioning look.
“She awoke in the night,” the man started quietly. “And refused to lie in the bed. She was throwing the covers off and climbing out, and crying. It was the only way she would lay down and rest.”
Meleth nodded. “She is very ill,” she said pointedly. Faeldor’s face blanched for a second. “Mother, I know.”
The woman shrugged, moving to dampen the cloth again and press it once more against Gilwen’s forehead. “We will talk about this later,” she said shortly, and Faeldor knew inwardly that he would receive a lecture. Meleth was not pleased entirely. Though she found it entirely sweet that Faeldor was so putting himself out to care for Gilwen, they must still think about propriety! The two were not wed, nor were they even yet engaged. And the children could have walked in at any time. What would they think of their brother?
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Gilwen
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There are times when silence has the loudest voice.[Mo0:0]
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Post by Gilwen on Apr 18, 2010 22:13:07 GMT -5
During the night, Gilwen had rested, though it was not entirely a peaceful slumber which had taken her. Strange visions had danced through her dreams, vivid colors and pictures that set her pulse to quicken and her breath to grow more rapid. The scenes that played out were frightful.
She was upon the streets once more, and the moon was high, the silver light casting such a strange glow upon the cobbles, ahead was a man, but his eyes hardly looked friendly. He stood so perfectly in the center of the street that she would have been unable to move about him, and the roads were vacant of all other people.
The next moment she stood in the palace, though the walls seemed dirtied and messy, covered with caked mud and dirt. All she had was a single rag and bucket, and she thought she had heard Rosiel’s laughter filter down the stone corridor.
Then, she was in the stables. But there had been no horses. Everything was gone; the lights had been lit a strange orange color, but there were no horses, nor stable lads. Faeldor had not been there either.
Again the scene had changed, and she had been upon the plains, the horrid orcs approaching her with brandished swords and foul expressions. Faeldor was screaming at her to move, though she remained planted right where she was.
She started awake, the moon still out. She almost cried out for fear; she felt warm, and her stomach felt weak and churned within her. However, before the sound had escaped her, she had sense enough to see that Faeldor laid upon the bed beside her. Weakly she pressed herself against him, moving across the bed to be closer to him. He had said she would be safe with him.
For a long while, her eyes had watched the haunted shadows of the room, startling lightly anytime something changed too quickly, or her feverish mind set her to see changes in the shadows and light. Ultimately, though, she had fallen asleep, burying her head against Faeldor’s chest, never once rousing him, and finally resting once more.
--
Even against the morning’s happenings with Faeldor’s movement and rousing, she had remained in her spot, now effectively taking up the entirety of the bed. The sun had shifted in its position, gliding through the sky into its highest place, and beginning its descent. It was near lunch time before the woman made any other motion to stir.
The sunlight washed through the window, and the woman’s eyes slowly blinked to adjust to the brightness. She moaned slightly, the haze of sleep being replaced by the stupor of her fever. “Fael?” She said, bolting upright. Her brown eyes stared at the edge of the bed; he had been there last night, even early this morning when she had pressed herself against him.
She caught her breath, biting her lip. He had said she was safe with him. Where had he gone? Had he left her? Hurriedly she shed the blanket, and went to throw her feet over the side of the bed. She was not going to sit here alone.
Something shined in the sunlight, and the young woman turned to look though instantly regretted such an action. There, in the middle of Faeldor’s floor was a serpent. She stared at it, her heart beginning to raise in rate, though did nothing but decide once more to leave the room. She would not stay; perhaps it was poisoned! Though, as she was moving to place her feet fully upon the stone floor, the woman shrieked loudly, body beginning to shake. There was not just one. There were many. They were all about the floor, upon the window sill and seat, and some laid upon the bed.
She threw herself forward, frantic eyes seeking the door. “Fael!” The sound was blood curdling, and shrilly echoed off the walls of the room. The woman was in a mad dash for the door, though caught her foot upon the leg of Faeldor’s armchair, which had been pulled up bedside the night before.
She began to tumble forward, another loud cry emitting from her lungs as she sprawled her arms outward to catch herself, effectively knocking the chair over and having it crash upon the ground, her own body following suit shortly after.
But even her spill did not still her, and she shot up once more, shakily reaching the door and throwing it open and bolting toward the staircase, using the wall at times to keep her from falling to the ground. “Fael!” She repeated fervently now gripping the banister upon the stairs. Her legs were hardly holding her up, but she managed to begin a descent, eyes brimming with tears and her heart beating away like a hammer within her chest. They had been everywhere! And she had slept beside them!
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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 21, 2010 13:00:59 GMT -5
“Eww, Faelon, stop it!” Marileth shrieked at her brother as the family sat around the dining room table for the noon meal, hearty bowls of soup in front of each adult and child.
“Faelon! Use your knife for the butter, please,” Meleth exclaimed as she looked up to see her young son with his bare fingers scooping in the dish.
“Diore did it and you did not scold her,” Faelon protested, his hand shooting back, and a pout covering his face. The little blonde headed girl spoken of had a guilty smirk on her face, and Meleth looked upon her. Upon a glance at her greasy fingers and lips, she certainly looked guilty.
“Well she is lucky that I did not catch her,” Meleth said, giving the girl a stern look. “And Faelon, you know she is still learning. You have been fine tuning those manners of yours for much longer than she. I expect better of you at the table.” The little boy’s shoulders slumped and he sat back in his chair, glaring at Marileth, who had told on him.
The children had been particularly rebellious this day, and Meleth was nearly at ends already. She had taken little sleep the night previous, checking on Gilwen often. And in the meanwhile, Haliel had been nearly inconsolable at seeing the young woman brought into her home so sickly. She was certain that Gilwen had died. Meleth had even found the door to Faeldor’s room open earlier in the day, and when she stepped in, Haliel had been standing near Gilwen’s bed, just watching her. “I am making sure she is still breathing,” was all the little girl had said.
Now Haliel was picking only picking at her food with bleary eyes. Faelon and Diore were constantly acting out and disobeying. Marlieth was arguing with all of the children, and Miriel had not stopped crying, and had shut herself in her room. Only Eoric was in his usual calm demeanor, and he sat upon his mother’s lap with a little fist grasping his piece of bread, as Meleth fed him from her own bowl.
Just then, a crash came from above, and the whole family stopped where they were, looking up. “What is that?” Marileth questioned, looking at her mother. Meleth didn’t answer, sitting still for a moment to listen. Then she heard the voice calling for her son; “Fael!” Without a word, the mother sat Eoric down on her chair and took off from the dining room toward the stairway, finding Gilwen a quarter of the way down, clinging to the banister and crying for her son.
Miriel had been startled from her nap, and reached their ill guest before her mother, quickly grasping her around the waist to steady her and trying to block her from going further, but she had been unable to get her back up the stairs, as the smaller woman was fully intent on fleeing.
“Mama, I do not know what she is doing,” Miriel managed, very near tears as her mother started quickly up the stairs. “She has gone mad,” her voice quivered slightly and her eyes were damp.
Meleth stopped in front of Gilwen, grasping her shoulders. “There Gilwen, shh…” she tried to comfort her. “Let’s go get you back in bed and try to get some food in you. Fael will be home from work soon to see you.” Though as she spoke, Gilwen seemed to not even hear her words. Miriel was crying now, seemingly unsteady herself, and frustratedly, Meleth looked to her. “Go get your grandmother,” she snapped to her daughter, though quickly realized that her own tone of voice was not helping. “I just do not wish you to take a fall on the stairs.” She did not have to say more, though Miriel caught the meaning. Meleth had fallen on the stairs in her own pregnancy, and little Haliel had paid for that mistake.
Miriel nodded, wiping her eyes as she quickly moved her swollen body quickly as she could to the dining room and called for her grandmother.
Meanwhile, Meleth calmed herself, trying not to let her weariness and frustration get the best of her. That method had never worked with her children, and certainly neither would it with Gilwen. “Let’s go back up,” she urged quietly. “You need to rest.”
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Gilwen
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There are times when silence has the loudest voice.[Mo0:0]
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Post by Gilwen on Apr 21, 2010 13:30:35 GMT -5
Miriel had caught her about the waist, and it seemed that Gilwen nearly jumped out of her skin in fear as she felt the woman begin to try and get her to go back up the stairs. “No!” She gasped desperately, using all of her strength to cling to the banister, barely able to keep herself upright. “I shan’t go!” She sobbed outwardly.
“There Gilwen, shh… Let’s go get you back in bed and try to get some food in you. Fael will be home from work soon to see you.”
“No! I cannot go!” Gilwen said frantically. Miriel had released her, and Gilwen’s knees buckled with her weakness, and she dropped straight down, shaking and leaning against the posts of the stair rail, wrapping her arms about them completely, tears streaking down her face. “They are everywhere! I cannot go back!!” She cried, brown doe-eyes wide and staring up pleadingly with Meleth. “Do not make me go back,” she added pitifully, though utterly frightened.
As thin as she had become, and as large as Beleth’s nightdress was on her, she looked as a little girl, in her young teens. Though, with her frightened and sickly demeanor she had the feel of a child much younger. “I don’t know where they came from,” Gilwen said, looking over her shoulder up the stairwell as if looking back to Faeldor’s room. “The snakes are everywhere!” She sobbed again, more tears flowing down her cheeks as she leaned her head against the banister meekly. Her head seemed to be spinning, and a great flush came to her cheeks from the spike in temperature she seemed to feel at that moment.
Her pounding heart was making her stomach feel weak, and the young woman began to tremble. She desperately wished for Faeldor; her mind was racing: when was he to return? He had gone to work? What time was it? Though, such thoughts were suppressed and never were uttered or passed to her tongue.
“The floor, the bed…” Gilwen’s words were unintelligible, and ran together in streams, made unclear by her illness. It was certain she desperately needed to calm herself, for she was certainly working herself up into a fit that could lead to a more severe case of sickness; a fit that could very well lead to her death if it was not minded and settled. “Everywhere, they were everywhere!” Her breaths were shallow, as if she was having trouble breathing, and certainly she was. Her heart was racing all together too quickly for her sick body, and she could not seem to calm herself. So, she sat a bundle of nerves upon the staircase.
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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 21, 2010 22:30:26 GMT -5
Gilwen was not allowing help, and had only crouched down on the stairway to cling to the railing, and with all Meleth’s strength, she could not pull the girl off without worry of injuring her. The bruises that she had seen the day previous certainly came to the front of her memory, and in such a state of weakness, it would be easy to injure her delicate skin further.
“There are no snakes in this house,” Meleth said, when finally realized what the girl was going on about. The mother finally moved to settle herself beside Gilwen, slowly trying to ease her hands from the banister. She looked so terrified, and nothing like she had seen her before!
Tinuves finally came to the stairwell, looking up at her daughter in confusion.
“She is hallucinating terribly, and burning up again,” Meleth said without being asked. “I had thought her fever was dropping earlier, but,” she placed a cool hand on the young woman’s forehead as she spoke. “This is not good.”
“Well let us get her back to the bedroom, then,” Tinuves said as she started up the stairway.
Meleth shook her head quickly. “I do not think she will go, she is afraid.” Meleth did not want to say the word ‘snake’ again and bring the topic back up, and hoped that Tinuves would not question.
“Do you think I should send for Faeldor? She was asking for him. Perhaps he can get her back to bed.” Meleth muttered, finally pulling the brown haired woman loose from the railing and against her side instead. Though, she had the feeling that as soon as she were to try and pull her up, she would grasp right back for that banister and cry again.
“He said he would be home by noon today and he is already late; I do not think he would stay away if he did not need to…” Tinuves started thoughtfully. “He should be home anytime,” she said assuredly, standing back slightly. Gilwen certainly did not know her as well as she knew Meleth, and she knew not if she could be a help in this situation. “I will go strain some of the broth and heat it up again. Perhaps we can get her to eat at least.”
The mother nodded nervously, a knot in her stomach. She doubted the woman would eat for them; the way she was shaken up; even her breaths were shallow and rattling. “You need to sleep, child,” Meleth said worriedly. This girl was in no health to be up and about, nor shaken as she was.
---
It was nearly an hour passed before Faeldor made his way wearily into the door. Meetings with the steward were strenuous to him. Tinuves had done her best to keep the children entertained in the dining room. And Meleth had done her best to persuade Gilwen back to the bedroom. The woman adamantly refused though; offering the same nervous breakdowns as she had the first time.
The Stablemaster had barely entered the home before he was sent straight to the stairway, his grandmother following at his heels. If Faeldor could not get Gilwen to her bed by will, he would have to forcibly lift her there, and she hoped that such a thing would not be the case. Meleth visibly released her tension when her son walked in the room.
“Fael, she’s been asking for you and will go nowhere near the bedroom,” Meleth said.
“She thinks there are snakes,” the grandmother whispered, having now overheard some of Gilwen’s ramblings. Faeldor looked confusedly between the three women for a moment, before making his move.
“Gilwen,” Faeldor said slowly, though his legs took him quickly up the stairway to the woman in the nightdress. “Come here, my darling,” he said, moving close and offering his arms. She thought there were snakes? What in heavens name was wrong with her? He wondered, aside, how long this would last, and surely hoped she would recover soon.
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Gilwen
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There are times when silence has the loudest voice.[Mo0:0]
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Post by Gilwen on Apr 21, 2010 23:02:19 GMT -5
Meleth told her she needed to sleep, but Gilwen simply looked at her with such wide eyes that it appeared the words had not even registered with her. “I shall not go back,” she repeated tiredly, though determinedly. There was nothing that was going to change her mind. There were foul things in that room. There was no way in Arda she was going to return there until the snakes had been properly removed. Oh, but there had been so many!
The next hour seemed as ages; Gilwen was overly exhausted, slumping against Meleth for the fact she could no longer hold her own weight up. Her breaths were shaky, a great feeling of illness having fallen over her. Everything seemed to be moving slow. Every plea that Meleth had given her to rise and return to the Faeldor’s bedchamber had seemed as if it was spoken in a foreign tongue, and every outburst she had given in response had drained her little body even more.
Her eyes were near closed as she leaned against Meleth’s shoulder, though she had enough consciousness to keep her somewhat alert. She fought her body’s urge to simply pass out for she knew that they would bring her back to the bed. They would lie her in a bed of snakes and walk away. How could they not see them?
She did not even notice Meleth addressed Faeldor as he moved into the room, such was she on the brink of collapsing where she sat. In fact, she did not become aware the stable master was there at all until he kneeled right before her. It sounded as if he had said her name, and he added something else, though the woman could hardly make it out. She was concentrating too much on her own body to worry for that. He had extended his arms, and the woman collected herself enough to leave Meleth’s comfort for his own, nearly throwing herself into him, and gripping his tunic as tightly as she could, though her grip hardly seemed to hold at all for her weakness.
She began to cry once more. “Fael,” her voice was soft, though urgent. “They are everywhere. I cannot stay in there. They wish me to go back; I will not go!” She said hurriedly, her voice rising slightly.
Her heart was beginning to race again as her body once more took into a frenzy, and it would have been impossible for Faeldor to miss the change in her heart rate the way she was frantically pressed against him. “They say they are not there. They are! Your floor, and in your bed!” She was beginning to tremble, though the motion seemed horrifying in her weakness; she near looked as if she were to break from her own anxiety. “Why do they wish me to go back? You shall not make me. You would not wish me back,” she was certain of it. Faeldor would not wish her to be in a place so dangerous.
He had told her she was safe with him; she would not be safe amidst a room full of snakes. He had promised to keep her from harm. She closed her eyes, unable to keep them open any longer, though was by no means asleep or blacked out; she was as aware as her mind could be.
She felt as death, surely, against Faeldor. The forehead that was tucked beneath his chin was certainly burning against his own skin, and the little fingers that attempted to grip at his clothes were as ice. Her expression was unlike anything she had held before, and her pale skin seemed ashen and stretched over her little frame that was shaking as if some great quake had ripped through her.
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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 22, 2010 14:57:27 GMT -5
“Gilwen, you are fine. Nothing will hurt you when I am here, remember?” Faeldor asked gently.
His mother frowned slightly. It pained her to see her son so upset, though it was warming to see how much he cared for the woman. Gilwen was more ill than ever any of her children had ever been, and she was weak. In the state that she was in now, many would not have made it, but perhaps it was that the woman had been so used to trouble the past months, that her mind and body had become steadfast enough to handle it.
“I have not been able to get her to eat or drink a thing,” Meleth said quietly. Faeldor held the woman near him, sitting down on the stair beneath her for a few minutes, though even though she sat higher than him, she still bundled herself against the man. Her hot face pressed against his neck and her skin felt damp, though her hands were frigid! The man wrapped one arm about her, but the other lightly rubbed her hands to try and bring the warmth back into them.
“She took about half that cup of water last night when she was awake, though I almost had to force her. Perhaps she would eat for me once we get her back in bed,” Faeldor suggested, his voice hopeful.
“Perhaps we should take her to the Healing Houses,” Meleth suggested quietly, feeling a bit overwhelmed. At first it had seemed that simple bed rest and food would be enough to bring the woman back to them. Gilwen was not looking well at all though. Her skin was more sickly than the day previous, though she had been out of the cold and rain for nearly a full day, and she was not resting.
“No,” Faeldor said bluntly. “I do not want her to be there. She would be afraid. I could not be with her. Look at her now. I should have been home sooner.” The man’s voice was sorrowful. “Grandmother knows as much as the healers there, and they would only do the same as we are. I will look after her here, mother,” the man said firmly. “We’ll put you back in bed now, Gilwen, and I will stay with you,” he said, his voice tender as he spoke to the woman.
Though, as the man moved to lift the ill lady, though felt as her heart rate increased. She was clinging to him, yet her struggle was to not enter that room once more. “She truly believes there are snakes?” He looked in wonderment as his mother, never having heard such a thing before.
“She has been crying of them for the past hour at least,” Meleth confirmed. “She has refused to go back in there. I don’t know what she did, but we heard a crash downstairs and Miriel caught her as much as running for the stairwell and held her here until I came.”
The Stablemaster frowned down at Gilwen once more, and even as he moved to sit her back upon the step, he heard her calm slightly. “Sit with her a moment, mother.” And at that, Meleth moved to take Gilwen back near her and make sure she did not try to flee. Faeldor did not move quite yet. “Gilwen, look at me,” he said, his hand cupping the womans chin. “I will take care of those snakes. And then you will be able to rest in bed again. Once I get rid of them, you must come back upstairs with me. I will not leave a single one alive.”
Once it was said, Faeldor moved to stand, looking at his mother in exasperation. It was likely not good to play along with the fears in Gilwen’s mind, yet what were they to do? Her rest and healing was more important than anything else right now.
Faeldor went to his room and found the chair tipped upon the floor. He made enough noise as he righted the chair, and took a few moments to clatter around the room and make noise, in case Gilwen were listening. Then he pulled back the blankets so that it would be ready to slip the woman right into the bed, and grabbed a spare sheet. The man thought for a moment, and went to his closet, then tossed his dirty clothing from the day previous into the sheet, then balled it up and tied a knot on the end. He smiled slightly to himself. It looked as if anyone had killed a few dozen snakes and threw them in a bag. It should do for Gilwen’s fevered state, at least.
The man finally left the room a few moments later, and went back to the stairway. “I killed them all, and checked every corner. No snakes to be seen.” He motioned to the pseudo snake sack, and then tossed it down to the bottom of the stairway. “Mother will throw the dead ones right out of the city. Now, will you come with me?” he asked, kneeling again on the stairway, and moving to lift the woman back into his arms before she even gave answer. It was not long before he had tucked her back into the bed.
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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 22, 2010 20:50:02 GMT -5
“Perhaps we should take her to the Healing Houses.”
Gilwen immediately gasped and clung to Faeldor all the tighter. “Please, do not send me away, too! I am well, I am well, do not send me away!” She pleaded frantically. Was Faeldor to send her away, too? Just like her father? She thought he had said that he would keep her safe forever.
Thankfully, Faeldor spoke out against Meleth immediately following her frantic cries to let her stay. Gracious Valar—she was able to stay. The rest of the conversation blurred away, though. Indeed the little woman was snatched from her fevered mind trails by Faeldor bidding her to look at him. “I will take care of those snakes. And then you will be able to rest in bed again. Once I get rid of them, you must come back upstairs with me. I will not leave a single one alive.”
She looked up at him and slowly nodded. She would go back upstairs once they were all gone; she believed Faeldor would save her. She huddled completely back into Meleth as the man moved away and she listened to him as he went. “He believed me,” she mumbled under her breath. “Fael believed me,” she repeated. She honestly was not scolding either of the women that still remained, but was lost within a trail of thought that was hazy and surreal. “He always will protect me.”
He emerged again, and the woman watched as he discarded a bundle of dead snakes, and she looked gratefully up at him. “See? They were there,” Gilwen said quietly, relieved. “I saw them.” She added as he scooped her up in his arms and hugged her close to him and settled her back into his bed.
Despite the fact he had said he had rid the entire room of the snakes, the little woman’s eyes darted about the room before he settled her down, and it was only after her own inspection that she allowed herself to relax. “Fael, I knew they were there.” She added meekly, sinking into the pillows pathetically.
“I woke up and you were not here, and they were all over…I do not know where they came from.” She explained frantically. “I…I did not want to stay in here. But you got rid of them, Fael. You saved me,” she added, kneeling once more on the bed and wrapping her arms about her beloved’s neck and pressed herself as close as she could. “I did not know where you were,” she added sadly, slowly losing her strength.
It took only a few moments for her to utterly lose all strength, and she slumped backward back into the bed releasing Faeldor’s neck, a sad expression in her eyes as they began to brim with tears. “Fael…I do not feel well,” she said soflty, beginning to cry once more.
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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 22, 2010 22:32:27 GMT -5
Faeldor watched as the woman rested back into the pillows, and he moved back to sit again on the edge of the bed, watching her. She rambled on about the snakes; entirely delusional it seemed, though he would not argue with her now. It was better to let her think that she had been saved from delusionary fiends than to tell her that it was all in her mind and upset her.
Though, before much time had passed, the woman was again pulling herself from the blankets, and had crawled over beside him on the bed again, wrapping her arms about him. “I did not know where you were.” Her voice sounded pitiful and it tore at his heart. The man wrapped his arms gently about the woman who he was very much in love with.
“I am never far from you, my Gilwen,” Faeldor said, his voice sad. He nuzzled the woman’s cheek, hoping to comfort her. “I will stay with you here the rest of the day, and all the night.” As the woman fell back again into the bed, Faeldor bent to take his boots off. He would lay beside her even now in the middle of the day if it meant she would rest.
“Fael…I do not feel well.”
The small voice made him to turn back around again. “I know you do not,” the Stablemaster said, bringing his hand to gently touch the side of Gilwen’s face. Her cheeks were still burning. “You just need to rest, and be calm. Just lay still and close your eyes. I will lay beside you,” he comforted. “I won’t leave you.”
Tinuves then came in, a bowl of broth and a spoon in hand, and Meleth followed, wringing her hands. “Set her up, Fael. She needs to eat something,” his mother instructed. “Are you going to bed already?” Meleth stopped. Tinuves was frowning.
“I’m just going to stay with her here as last night,” Faeldor answered his mother, moving to lift the woman up again and let her lean against his side. “You can lay down after you eat,” he spoke this time to Gilwen, though then looked back to his mother. “She will climb right out of bed again if I do not stay with her. I promised her.
“I do not know how I feel about the children seeing you lay with her…” Meleth said slowly. Tinuves had already spoken with her about the matter earlier, and while it had not upset her at all previous to the discussion with her mother, she did seem a bit grave now. Perhaps it was just her weariness, and the fact that she had just battled for an hour on the stairs with the woman.
“She needs me here,” Faeldor said shortly, taking the soup from his grandmother. “Open your mouth Gilwen, you need to take some of this… I know you do not feel well, dearheart, but this will make you strong again.” His voice was gentle with the lady, but he was not pleased with the fact that his mother had suggested he not stay with her.
Tinuves now took her turn at speech, “Faeldor, it is not appropriate. Enough people are already talking. If the children saw and said something…” Her voice was gentle, yet reprimanding. Though before she had finished speaking, Faeldor had interrupted her. The man was not speaking to her at all, but to Gilwen, who he was slowly and carefully spoon feeding a bit of broth.
“And when you’re well again, I am going to marry you. As soon as you are up and walking, I’ll show you that house I told you about. It’s truly lovely, you will adore it. And after I’ve had some lessons with the sword from your Papa like you wish, we’ll go out to Fela Isilme again. Would you like that?” He didn’t expect Gilwen to answer. He was simply speaking now to drown out the thoughts and worry, and to show his grandmother that he had certainly come past the care that someone would say something. He loved Gilwen, and whether his love were legally binding or not, he was going to care for her.
Tinuves sighed, walking from the room, and Meleth stood some moments longer. “I’ll bring you up some lunch,” she finally said quietly. Faeldor finished giving Gilwen all the broth she would take, but did not answer. Instead, he helped Gilwen to get comfortable back against her pillows, and scooted beside her in the bed, letting her tuck herself against him to warm her cold hands and feet. “I love you,” the man told her again, as if her healing could come by the words alone.
---
Two nights had passed, and Faeldor could only evade the stables for so long. The morning of Gilwen’s fourth day with them, the Stablemaster had to return to his duties, and so in the morning he snuck from the woman’s bed and readied, silently bidding the Valar that the day pass quickly. Gilwen had made no recovery yet. Though at times her fever was lowered, it seemed to always return. She had barely taken food or water, and Faeldor was distressed.
However, he told himself that on every break he took he would come to the house and see to her. He had become the woman’s primary caregiver, save for bathing her, he had stayed with her almost all of the time. Faeldor could hardly stand to think that he would be away from her again for the day, though his mother had promised that she would check on Gilwen often. Faeldor prayed that her fever would break perhaps while he was at work, and with that, he left a kiss on the woman’s forehead and went out the door.
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Gilwen
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There are times when silence has the loudest voice.[Mo0:0]
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Post by Gilwen on Apr 23, 2010 15:36:06 GMT -5
It was as if the moment Faeldor left the room, Gilwen was aware of it. He had sat beside her every waking moment for the most part of the last three days and nights; if Gilwen had called for him, he had been there to wrap his arms about her and to protect her from nightmarish visions and hallucinations that she held.
And today, Gilwen could feel the precise moment he left her, and her heart hammered away within her. He had told her he needed to go to work the night previous. Gilwen, though, was too sick to understand. Why must he go to work? Could he not sit with her? She still felt so ill, though she did her best to rise and follow him after feeling him kiss her forehead. She was slow, though. And Faeldor had long left the building before she had reached the top of the stairs, and she stood, staring after him with a sad expression.
What was she to do, today? How could she distract herself from all of her discomfort without him there? She frowned lightly, though turned to eye the bedroom door once more. Everyone was still asleep; she did not wish to sit cooped up all alone. She needed to distract herself. Perhaps if she could pretend like she felt better, Meleth would not be so upset with her. Slowly and shakily, Gilwen took to the stairs, taking each one slowly until she was finally at the bottom.
It did not take her long to navigate the house, though her illness and weakness made it hard for her to do so safely. She found what she had desired: a rag and bucket. She filled the bucket with water and then set herself to work upon the stone floor of the hallway. Everything looked dirty! She needed to help.
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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 30, 2010 21:16:15 GMT -5
Meleth rolled over in her sleep. Her bleary eyes open and glanced toward the window, and she saw that it would soon be dawn and time to rise, but the woman was far too comfortable and snug in her bed to be motivated to move her body far yet.
“Mama,” Eoric said from the other side of the large bed as he made his way across the crumpled covers to find the woman in the dark. Diore had long since moved into the bedroom with Meleth’s other little girls, but she had not the heart to set Eoric alone at night. Well, not alone, but surely Faelon would not wish to be troubled by the little boy, and aside, Meleth found comfort with the little body in her bed. The boy curled up against her, and Meleth brought her adopted son underneath the comforter.
“Hungry, Mama,” the boy said quietly.
“Well, no doubt you are,” the mother smiled. Eoric had been so exhausted the day before that she had put him to bed without supper, and now his little belly was surely feeling it. “It is too early for you to run about the house, so you just stay here and I will bring you some bread and milk,” the woman smiled, snuggling the little child for a moment before kissing him and rising from her bed. There was no bother to change from her night dress or put on her shoes as she walked softly down the upstairs hall and to the stairway.
As she rounded the corner at bottom of the steps from the sitting room, a scratching noise resounded from the hall, and Meleth startled slightly as she approached the corridor. Could one of the children be up? Perhaps Miriel had gotten hungry; at times she seemed to need nourishment at strange hours of the night, though it was not uncommon for one of her condition. Or perhaps Haliel’s cat was prowling about as she did in the darkened hours. However, it was only a moment before she nearly stumbled over the woman on the floor, accidentally knocking the bucket of water and spilling it over her toes and Gilwen’s hands.
“Gilwen, whatever are you doing?” the woman exclaimed slightly, moving around the young lady as she tried to right the bucket. “Heavens, you are not well enough to be out of bed, and what in Eru’s name are you doing washing the floors?”
Meleth stood for a moment, in the absurdity of the situation, as she tried to figure the woman out. She had been calmer the last few days for certain, since the incident on the stairway. Faeldor had been with her all that time though, and now he must have just left for work. “Come now, let’s get you upstairs,” Meleth said, stooping to try and lift Gilwen to her feet from the water now pooled on the floor. “You need your bed rest.”
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Gilwen
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There are times when silence has the loudest voice.[Mo0:0]
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Post by Gilwen on May 2, 2010 21:52:22 GMT -5
The sound of the brush against the stone had drowned out Meleth’s footsteps, and Gilwen hardly even realized the woman was there. It was not until the water spilled that Gilwen realized she was not alone. The cold liquid washed over her hands, and soaked a bit of the nightdress she was wearing, but the lady hardly faltered, and instead looked up as she was asked what she was doing. “I am cleaning,” she said plainly.
Her fever had not gone down, and a part of her felt a slight relieved at the cold water upon her fingers, though the light stinging she felt from the lye kept everything from feeling perfectly well. “Come now, let’s get you upstairs. You need your bed rest.”
“No; I am better.” Gilwen said hurriedly, looking up at Meleth frantically. She did not wish to be sent away. If Meleth thought she was not going to get better, she would surely send her to the Houses. And Gilwen did not wish to be there. “I will finish. I am able,” she said fervently, her pale little face contorting a slight in panic. She had worked hard over the past years in the palace, if there was anything the woman knew she could do it was clean.
Still, after some persuasion, Meleth had managed to get the pitiful little thing back upstairs and tucked in to bed. It did not take long, however, for Gilwen to rid herself of her covers and crawl out once more, beginning to tidy up Faeldor’s own bedchamber as a means of proof she was well.
That was not able to last too long either, for Tinuves had caught her in act shortly and stuck her right back into bed. The young lady frowned pointedly as she sat confined. She did not wish to be alone, nor did she wish to be placed in that bed. She needed to prove she was not sick, though such a statement seemed impossible to make. Her skin was still ashen and grey, she had barely taken any food, nor had her fever broken. She still held slight hallucinations, and the woman was entirely delusional. None would have believed her to be in health, no matter how much Gilwen sought to prove it.
Meleth had managed to get her to take a bit for lunch, though did not tarry long within the room, and had gone to keep track of the other children beneath her roof, leaving Gilwen once more utterly lonely.
After about an hour, she had fallen asleep, and for a time the house of Faelon was not troubled by her antics.
--
The sun had set by the time her eyes opened again, and for a moment, the woman just lied there with eyes on the window. Surely Faeldor would be home now, she thought as she frowned to bring her weak and sickly body to move and leave once more her bed.
She thought she heard voices lofting up from the sitting room beside the stairs, and was equally as certain that one of the voices was her Faeldor. She forced herself to stand, turning to make her way toward the door though halted in her tracks.
Two haunting eyes stared back at her, and the woman’s heart immediately hammered against her ribs in a way that sent her fevered and ill body to swoon a moment; he had found her.
The man was unmistakable; his hungry eyes, his foul expression and pasty skin seemed as fiery beacons to identify him. It was the same man that had found her on the street. “No!” She shrieked, her shallow breathing the only thing keeping her upon her feet as she began a mad dash to the door. “Do not touch me! Help!”
Her cries echoed down the hall as she ran, her ears pounding with the blood in her ears as she reached the staircase. She had been told she was safe! How did that man find his way into this place? She took the stairs quickly, frenzied hands gripping the banister for a small amount of steadiness. “Fael! Fael, please!” She was bawling and gasping as she neared the last few steps; she had not been this frightened for a while. “He is here, do not let him touch me!” She cried once more, her head spinning from faintness.
Gilwen’s knees gave way and the woman collapsed to the floor at the bottom of the steps, her fever having spiked once more to a dangerous level. Her breathing was still rampant, and the way her shattering gasps were coming to rampantly upset her stomach greatly. The little bit of broth she had taken that afternoon for lunch choked back up her throat and spilled upon the stone floor, though Gilwen hardly seemed to notice.
She was crying, though, and clearly worked up into a state. She did not even see anyone about her, coming to her aide. Her vision was blurred and bordering along the blackness that unconsciousness gave. “Help!” She repeated in a shattering sob, shaking madly from her weakness and fear. She did not wish to be taken; surely he had come to finish what he started.
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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 May 7, 2010 11:46:55 GMT -5
“She has been up and out of bed all day, Faeldor,” Tinuves said gently. “She needs someone to look after her more closely, she seems to not understand her state, and neither of us could settle her until she simply fell asleep.”
Faeldor frowned leaning forward in his seat to rest his elbows on his knees, his hands covering his face as he breathed wearily. “I cannot send her out to the Houses,” he muttered. “She would not understand. I fear that she would do worse than she is now.”
“She needs supervision, Faeldor,” Tinuves said sternly. “Your mother has the children to look after. Miriel is in no state to do such a thing right now, and I am on call with half a dozen expecting mothers right now. Surely your sister Beleth would have helped you, but you have sent her away.” The older woman’s voice was a slight bitter at the end of her statement, for young Narbeleth was her closest granddaughter, and she was right. Beleth would have sat day and night by that young woman’s side to see to her healing.
“I will go and find one of the healers to come here. If I need, I shall hire a healer to stay with her all the day while I am at work. I would rather that than to let her be alone and afraid in the Healing Houses. I know she is delusional right now, Grandmother, but she still has enough of her mind to know that she was being sent out again. She is terrified all the time, and the added stress will only push her further over the edge.”
The young man was getting upset over his grandmother’s insistence. Truly, what would the healing houses do for her? The same thing, no doubt, put her in bed and warm her and tell her to rest. Yet, she would know nobody. Faeldor would not be allowed to sit beside her at night, and she would be alone and afraid. No, he would not send her there. They had good intentions, but that would be a last resort. While Gilwen had not recovered at all, at least here her health had barely declined.
Even as he finished speaking, it seemed that both the heads of the man and women were drawn to the stairwell where the scream took place. Even as Faeldor lept from his seat, Gilwen had run down the stairs, and by the time he made it to her, she had fallen to the ground at the bottom and was crying out for him.
She was not herself. It seemed her eyes looked right past him, and she still called for help. “Gilwen,” he said softly. “Gilwen stop crying. Look at me. I am here.” The poor woman did not seem able to focus on him, and he moved slowly to carry her back up the stairs. “You’re safe, darling. Shhh… I will not leave you,” he promised.
Faeldor knew that he would die if he left Gilwen’s side. If simply for the sake of leaving such a tender and fragile creature so helpless and alone. He loved her though, and his heart was aching for her to return to him again. For her to be his Starlight. He wanted her back; he was mourning her disappearance into this shell that she had become. She was like a little girl, broken and weak. “I love you, Gilwen,” the man said, almost in tears, as he put the woman back in the bed, still warm from where she had left it a few minutes earlier.
Tinuves stood in the doorway, shaking her head, and Faeldor looked over to the woman. “Send Faelon to the stables to tell the groom that I cannot be in tomorrow. And that I will take it day by day and let them know when I will be in. They can send one of the lads if they have questions or troubles. But I will look after her myself. She will do better if I am here,” he said, looking down at the stressed little body below him.
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Gilwen
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There are times when silence has the loudest voice.[Mo0:0]
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Post by Gilwen on May 7, 2010 12:45:59 GMT -5
Gilwen finally heard Faeldor and saw what vaguely looked like his shape and face through her darkening vision. “He is there! That man from the street! He is there, do not let him have me!” She blurted fervently, trying desperately to cling to him, though finding her entire body felt leaden and weak. She was still crying, though it was clear Faeldor was attempting to console her.
He lifted her into his arms, though the woman was too weak to really thrash about as he began to head up the stairs. Her voice was small, very weak, as she protested. “No, no, no, please. Do not bring me back there. He is there; he will hurt me. No, no.” Her stream of mumbles and murmurs continued until Faeldor had tucked her into bed, she was so ill, though, she did not hear his expression of love, and instead tried to cling to him. Her blazing doe eyes flicked to the corner, where the man’s figure had stood those moments before.
“He was here,” she said hushed, looking back to Faeldor. “He was here in this room, I cannot stay here!” She whispered. She weakly pushed herself away from Faeldor to escape the confines of her bed once more. For being so sick, the lady was quite lithe and was quickly ducked down to the floor, sliding under the bed frame. Her thin body fit well under the piece, and the lady began to cower there with quiet sobs. She could fend for herself from here; she doubted the man could get under the bed as she could.
Still, her head swam and the woman once more lost her balance, falling the rest of the way to the floor. She was not about to relinquish her refuge, though. Her quiet cries and tears still wafted from under the bed, and the lady shakily kept watch, her body stiff with her alertness. Why had Faeldor brought her back here? Did he not understand that the man that was in his very room was the man who had tried to take her upon the streets? “He must be in the closet,” she said lowly to herself, accounting for the man’s disappearance as best as she could. She did not wish to be taken. She wished to be safe.
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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 May 7, 2010 13:27:51 GMT -5
The fighting of Gilwen’s body against him was nothing for Faeldor, and he never lost his grip as he placed her back in the bed and tried to settle the woman, talking to his grandmother all the while
“She afraid, Grandmother,” Faeldor almost cried. His voice was spent and full of worry. “There darling,” he said, softening more and leaning over her. She attempted to cling to him, though her body was weak, and her struggle was nothing that Faeldor could not control.
“There is nobody in this room but you, and I, and Grandmother. Nobody at all. That man from the street is down on the first tier. You are here, safe in my house on the sixth tier. Faeldor moved to the end of the bed to grab the blankets that had been thrown about in Gilwen’s first escape attempt. Though even as he stepped away from her, the young woman had pulled herself off the bed, and before he knew it, she was squeezing beneath.
“Gilwen, come out from under there,” Faeldor pleaded. How had she moved so quickly? She was so ill, yet she moved so quickly! Tinuves had found herself on the opposite side of the bed, and was getting down to her knees. Her grandson would not be able to get that woman out, no matter how hard he tried, for there would be no way for his tall body to fit beneath that low bed.
However, Faeldor tried anyway, when it appeared that Gilwen would not answer him, nor come out at his command. She only cried harder, and when he got down on the floor he could see her little body curled and shaking beneath. He tried to go to her. She was all the way in the center, and the man could only faintly reach her with his hand. He could do no more than grasp at her clothing though, and so he attempted to go beneath. His broad shoulders got stuck, and as he tried to draw them back out, he hit his head atop the bedframe.
This was no good. Tinuves saw the trouble, and moved her body slowly to the ground. Heavens, she had not had to do such a thing since Meleth were a young child playing hide and seek with her. Though she was still in fine health, her body was too old to be crouching down to the floor and crawling into such small spaces. “Gilwen, come here,” the silver haired woman said softly. “There is nothing under here to harm you. She had just about reached the woman when Faeldor bumped his head once more and shook the bedframe with his struggle to escape it’s confines.
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