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 May 8, 2010 20:40:35 GMT -5
The two remained quite still as they waited for Gilwen to comply with Meleth’s request. Both watched the woman steadily, and it was apparent that she was nervous. As she finally relented and took her breath, Faeldor seemed to relax, though, the moment that the woman stilled and grasped at her side, Faeldor’s comforting hand went for her shoulder as she took breaths to steady herself.
The woman stated that she was well, and that the injury was not horrid, though with the way she had lost her breath, Faeldor doubted the truth of her statement. Meleth nodded, though her expression also told likewise. She thought for a moment that she would like to have a look at those bruises again as well, and perhaps she would heat a warm compress for the woman to put on her side too. Anything to give her a bit more comfort. Meleth was ready to end the issue and let the girl eat a bit and get back to sleep, though now Faeldor was wondering.
“Gilwen, you said that you remember coming here the day I left for Lossarnach. You never made it though,” he looked to his mother for confirmation. He knew that if Gilwen had come to her, Meleth would not have let her into that storm. “Were you stopped on the way? Is that when you were… beaten? Do you remember that?” It hurt the man to even ask the question, but he had wondered for two weeks now, and if she remembered how and where it had happened, Faeldor would do his best to take care of it. If that same man had gotten ahold of her again… well, he did not know what he had done.
Meleth sat quietly, wanting to protest at Faeldor’s questioning to let the girl rest, yet, the same question had come to her mind. She knew not that Gilwen had come calling for her, though if what Faeldor said was true, she did not know anything of it. Gilwen had not stepped in this house before without Faeldor by her side. Had she come looking for her? Oh, if the poor girl had come and she had not been home, she would not forgive herself.
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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 May 8, 2010 20:58:02 GMT -5
Gilwen felt Faeldor’s hand come to her shoulder, and the lady set her eyes on him a moment. The very look in his eyes said he did not believe her assertion that she was well, and the pain was not that grave. A part of her wished to crawl away. They did not need to worry over her anymore.
A short silence fell over them, and Gilwen sedated herself with the thought that perhaps they were simply going to allow her to rest, and that the questions had ceased. Only moments later, Faeldor shattered her hopes of such a thing, and immediately the woman was set stiff and felt her heart ram against her ribs. “Gilwen, you said that you remember coming here the day I left for Lossarnach. You never made it though. Were you stopped on the way? Is that when you were… beaten? Do you remember that?”
Yes, she remembered. The very look that flashed through her eyes proved she did, though her heart still wished to avoid it. After a long silence, she relented to slow and whispered words, knowing Faeldor was not going to rest until he had gotten his answer. “I remember.” The words were heavy, and her eyes dropped to her hands as she clutched the sheets of the bed in discomfort. She truly did not wish to explain, and the lady bit her lip roughly as she sought for the courage to speak on the matter.
“I—I came as you told me to,” Gilwen began, though her eyes never lifted. “I...was not stopped. I made it to the house.” Immediately she stilled her words, a great war rising within her. He deserved the truth, but Gilwen had learned like a wounded animal how to try and avoid such harm that she was certain would come if she spoke as to who truly had struck her. The lady’s brown eyes glistened with tears as her knuckles turned white against the sheets.
“I knocked.” She paused again for a long time, the battle once more taking her words. “Miriel answered the door,” her voice had never been so quiet, and the woman took a haggard breath and winced once before continuing. “I…don’t rightly remember what set her off, but she—she had a rolling pin.” Immediately tears began to cascade down her cheeks as she recalled her feelings in that moment. It had hurt terribly, and she had certainly held much fear. She had been so ill, and it was not as if she could have fought back to fend for herself, for Gilwen was mindful of Miriel’s condition, and would never wish her any harm or ill wish. She dared not raise her eyes to look upon the two at the bed, for in her heart she could see the storm brewing in Faeldor’s lovely grey eyes already, and she did not wish him to be so angered.
“Please, do not speak of it to her…” she added quickly. "I don't wish her to know."
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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 May 8, 2010 21:49:50 GMT -5
“My sister did that to you?” Faeldor almost whispered. He was horrified at the thought. That his sister would answer the door and beat a guest in the doorway. An ill one at that. Gilwen. Oh, his beloved Gilwen. He wished to embrace her, yet his mind raged, and at the same time he wished to scream. If Miriel would have let her in she would have been saved all the trouble of this illness! His mother would have caught it before it became what it had. She would not have been hurt.
“A rolling pin, for goodness sake,” Meleth mouthed. Though she had wished to still Gilwen from the questioning now, the fact of the matter took her at perhaps the same shock as her son. Though Meleth handled it differently. Where Faeldor stood up and began to pace, Meleth moved to take the seat by Gilwen and attempt to comfort her tears.
“My sister… I cannot believe her. The audacity of her. And I thought it was that man from the street… not that I would rather it him. But my sister! Miriel, that wench. That sleeper!” The man was pacing, his fists clenched at his side, and he was really talking to nobody but himself.
“Faeldor, that is enough. We will work this out later,” Meleth tried to hush her son. But Faeldor persisted, ranting as he paced, and trying to decide what to do. Meleth continued, “Stop it, for Gilwen’s sake, Fael. Stop it. We do not need you riled up.” Meleth attempted to keep her voice gentle, but it was certainly not enough.
“If it had been that man I would have killed him. I would have… smashed his face. I can’t believe she touched you again after that. After all you’ve been through. And you were ill from the day I set out. She has no heart! She deserves a beating likewise. I would give it to her if it weren’t for that poor baby
“Faeldor! Please,” Meleth said, trying to keep her voice under control. “Stop saying such things. You will not harm your sister. You need to step out, son. Go get a cup of tea and calm down,” she pleaded.
Faeldor stormed out of the room finally, and Meleth got up to carefully shut the door behind him. “He has just been a ball of nerves the past weeks. He was about to step out and murder every man on the first tier when we told him of those bruises. But heavens… It pains me to know that my daughter has hurt you…” the mother said, moving to sit beside Gilwen on the bed again, and wipe dry her cheeks. “It will be well, dear. My daughter has thought differently of you the past few weeks. I have not know what had set her in such guilt, but she has been adamant about helping look after you. She has been good to you. There… let us not worry about the matter right now. Calm down a bit so that you might eat, and then we’ll let you back to sleep. Fael will be fine.
The Stablemaster stomped down the stairs, likely waking the household as he did so, and went straight for the kitchen. The rolling pin was there on the counter where his mother had left it drying the day previous. That rolling pin. It had bruised his Starlight. When she had only come for comfort and shelter. She had wanted nothing to do with Miriel, or with upsetting Miriel, from the first moment he had met Gilwen. Yet, his sister had hurt her.
Grimacing, he picked it up. Nothing about the instrument could tell him that it had hurt his lady. Yet, he knew, and the thought sickened him. To use hands was one thing. But an instrument. A club of this caliber? Oh, his Grandmother had said the bruises were dreadful. His mother thought her ribs broken, and the look on Gilwen’s face when it pained her. His poor darling.
The man took up that rolling pin and once more ascended the stairs. This time though, he went not to his room, but to the quarters of his still slumbering sister. “Miriel!” he startled her awake.
The woman jumped, moaning slightly as she awoke, for her mornings had not been good to her the whole of her pregnancy. Her stomach was rounding nicely, and her hand protectively covered it as she looked up startled at her brother. “Fael what is—“ she was cut off.
“What is this for Miriel?” the man shouted, brandishing the rolling pin affront of her. The woman’s eyes widened, for she knew exactly what her brother was speaking of and she tried to duck under her covers to hide from him, certain that in a rage he would hurt her. She cowered, trying to pull her covers up to shield herself.
“Miriel!” he shouted again. “Answer me! What is this?” The man went for his sister’s bed, ripping back the covers. She tried to push herself against the wall, but he gripped her shoulders and forced her to stand out of her bed.
“Fael, please, my baby…” the woman mumbled fearfully. Her brother was in such a rage! He had never touched her roughly before, and though she certainly knew she deserved it, her baby did not!
The man seemed to take control of herself at this point and released her shoulders, and he drew his hand back to slap her, though caught himself before fulfilling the act, knowing that he could never hit his own sister, nor any woman for that matter. He glared at her. “You will not touch Gilwen again. And you will get rid of this confounded rolling pin. I will not see it in this house once more.”
“Fael… it is mother’s… I cannot—“ Miriel started, but the man could not control himself, and he brandished that pin in his hand, and then threw it. Right at the wall. It crashed into Miriel’s standing mirror with the horrible sound of shattering glass. At that, the man left the room, slamming his sister’s door behind him, and went straight back to his own, entering, and shutting the door there as well. He stood for a moment, his back against the door as if allowing none other to enter. Meleth simply stared at him.
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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 May 8, 2010 22:23:16 GMT -5
“My sister did that to you?”
“Please, it is over. It shall heal, and it will be fine,” Gilwen said hurriedly, finally letting her eyes rise to catch Faeldor’s eyes in a silent plea for him to remain level. She had not wished to tell him. She had not wanted to trouble him. “You need not speak to her on it. Please,” she seemed a tad frantic, though nothing compared to the past few episodes she had had. Her tears still streamed down her face, and Meleth moved to the bed to sit beside her and comfort her tears away, though such a motion did little. Gilwen’s teary eyes were focused frantically upon Faeldor as he began to pace and rage.
If he had wished to settle her, this was certainly not helping. Gilwen could sense it in the air of the room. It was like a static that stole her breath and set her stiff and frightened. Faeldor’s grey eyes had shadowed dangerously, and in her heart, Gilwen feared he was hardly done reacting. Such a thought set her to choke back a sob, though her tears remained silent, she turned to Meleth with a worry-ridden brow, though did not speak.
Finally Meleth sent him from the room, and ever so slowly the tension of the room ebbed. Gilwen broke down further. “I have upset him!” She cried, beginning to tremble beneath her own stress. “I had not meant to, I did not wish to tell him!” She could barely breathe, such was her distress. Inwardly, she was well enough now to understand she needed to get herself under control; she was too weak for this.
Faledor had tramped down the stairs. The sound of his footfalls had fallen heavily, and Gilwen prayed that the bit of tea he was sent to find settled him. She needed some time to calm herself, now. But it was not but a moment later she heard the steps come back up the stairs, at a much quicker pace. Gilwen caught her breath, her tears leaving her to be replaced by a sudden sweep of alarm. He had walked right by his own room; he was not coming back here.
“What is he doing?” She gasped, trying to stand. She had to stop him. She did not tell him what had happened so he could try and remedy the problem. However, her movements were stilled by a soft hand upon her arm, and Gilwen froze, mouth open and face blanched as she listened to the screaming down the hall.
“What is this for Miriel?”
Gilwen instantly began to cry again. Oh, what in Arda was he doing? She had told him to let it go; this was not good for anyone. “Meleth!” She sobbed quickly. She wished her to leave her side and quell Faeldor’s temper before he did something to worsen the situation, but it seemed before the woman would even had time to get there, another sound was heard.
It was sharp, and Gilwen’s heart froze and she flinched upon the moment it shot through the air. It was the sound of a great crash, and the tinkling of little shards falling to the floor. What had he done? Gilwen once more tried to stand, though stilled herself. No, she could not bring herself to move, though her eyes were wide with confusion and worry, with tracings of fear deep within them. The footsteps resounded in the hall again, and stopped before the door to Faeldor’s room, and Faeldor slipped quietly in, leaning against the door heavily; it was clear his anger was not gone.
Gilwen just stared. She could not even begin to imagine what to say, though her face certainly relayed her feelings well. Her head swam for a moment in her tension and weakness, and the lady had to fight to keep herself upright, and managed only to sway a slight with the dizziness.
Still, her expression remained wide-eyed, and she certainly looked as a deer caught in the hunt. She had never seen that side of him before, and while she had not born witness to it herself, the screams and sound of the slamming door still echoed within her mind. He had sounded so fierce and dangerous.
Slowly her tears returned. “Fael…” her voice had never sounded so meek. She was utterly shaking. “It was not worth that; I shall heal. It was not worth that!” She felt at a loss. She regretted answering his question. She cursed herself for opening her mouth, and wished the Valar had given her better sense. “I hold nothing against her for it. You…you…” she stopped unable to continue. Her mind had gone blank, and it seemed she could come up with no more words. She still held the same look of distress, and the woman sank back into her the pillows that she was propped up with and took another deep breath to calm herself, though grimaced and turned her head away instead. What had he done?
She was sure all of the children awoke with a fright. “You should have let it be,” she finally finished.
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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 May 10, 2010 16:26:54 GMT -5
Meleth had restrained Gilwen in the bed; it was, in fact, not a difficult task, for the young woman was weak as a kitten. Surely the small woman would not be able to intervene, and Meleth sat rooted for a moment in fear that he son had actually beat Miriel. She never would have thought him to act in such a way, but then, she had rarely seen him so angry.
“Faeldor, by all means,” Meleth said, finally moving to stand after he had returned. Her tall son with his angered look could not keep the mother from scolding. “Did you hurt your sister?” Her voice was sharp.
“No, mother,” he managed to answer through clenched teeth. “Though I might have and she would have deserved it.” His voice was grating. He would have regretted hurting the woman though, and was glad he did not. Yet… the fact that she had inflicted so much upon Gilwen… and even in her sickness. As if the first rumors, the loss of her father’s job, their house, Gilwen’s job… as if all that had not been enough. All the times her pretty face had been bruised, the injury to her ankle. Rosiel and that child in the mud. None of it had been deserved, yet Miriel had persisted.
“This is not going to help. You know that Miriel has shown her only kindness lately. She obviously regrets what she has done. I do not condone her actions, but honestly, Faeldor, you attitude will not pass for making peace. Did you break her window?” Meleth’s words were quick and sharp as she went, unable to control her own voice.
“Her mirror.” He answered shortly.
“Mama,” Marileth said from behind the door. Faeldor heard the little voice, and moved to open it. The young girl stood in her nightgown, bleary eyed with sleep. “Haliel was afraid and started crying and Diore ran to see what the noise was. I could not stop her, she just lit off. But she cut her toe on the glass and now she is crying. And Miriel is crying as well and she picked Diore up, but Diore won’t let her look at her toe. She wants you, and Haliel will not stop. Mama, what is wrong?” Marileth streamed on in a slight panic. The girls in the room next door to Miriel’s had woken with the shouting, and heard every bit of it, though had no idea why their brother was so upset at Miriel this time. They were simply frightened. Faeldor stood not far away, but Marileth would not look at him, afraid that he was angry with her too.
Meleth sighed, exasperated by now. What in heavens name had gotten into her son?
“Faeldor, you sit down now, and help Gilwen eat that soup. We will talk about this later,” Meleth said strictly, hitting her son in the chest once more and motioning toward Gilwen in the bed. If there was anything that could calm her son down, she knew it was to give him some form of direction and a task. She glanced at the ill woman in the bed, who was still crying. Though, Faeldor would have to comfort her now, for Meleth needed to look after the little ones.
“Just what we needed… start a morning off like this…” the woman started angrily toward the door, touching Marileth’s shoulder softly. “Go look in on Eoric, and lay on my bed with him, Mari.” It was amazing at the different tone her voice had taken in a matter of moments, to comfort the child. Marileth nodded, and a moment later, the woman and the girl were out of sight.
Faeldor heard the crying girls down the hall. He could pick out his sisters by their cries. Miriel’s deep sobs, Diore’s whimpers, and Haliel worked up to the point of gasping. It tore at Faeldor’s heart to hear it, even Miriel’s, knowing he had caused it all. Though, he knew that his comfort toward them was nothing he could give now. He stared at Gilwen for a moment, her face was dampened, and she had seemed to trail ceaselessly with words that told him he should not have been so upset.
He knew he should not have been so angry. Or at least, perhaps he should not have acted on it. But Miriel had hurt her again! To hurt Gilwen was a blow to himself. That woman was precious, his beloved. He could not stand the fact that more harm had come to her than she could bear. She was a strong woman, but even with her strength, she had been brought down by sickness and injury. She had come to the point so near her death. Faeldor could not have lived with that.
The man caught his breath, and finally crossed the room, sitting down on the edge of the bed by Gilwen, not saying a word. He picked up the bowl of soup, though sat with it in his hands for a moment, knowing that in her upset state, Gilwen would not be able to eat. He placed it back down on the table. “Sweetheart,” he said, his voice now weakened. “She should not have hurt you.” With that, Faeldor slumped down on the edge of the bed. His eyes became wet once more, and he struggled to wipe his face. His angered look had now washed away to one of grief, and he grasped Gilwen’s thin hand.
“Nobody should ever touch you again,” he added weakly, turning to his side, and crossing his arm over Gilwen’s lap. "I did not want to upset you. I just... could not control it." He took a deep breath. "I love you so much. I cannot stand to see you hurt. I almost lost you."
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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 May 10, 2010 17:29:02 GMT -5
“Did you hurt your sister?” “No, mother.”
The tension between the two tall grey-eyed figures set Gilwen to tremble in her upset. Faeldor, with his arms crossed as they were and his height and strength, certainly gave off an air that would have deterred Gilwen for a time had she not been confined to the bed by weak legs. Meleth approached him though, as only a mother could do. Still, the conversation seemed only to set her further over the edge as it was interrupted by Marileth who seemed worried, and she heard the faint sounds of tears wafting down the hallway.
Meleth had left to tend to them, and had left Faeldor to tend to her. And for a moment, Gilwen simply stared, still blanched and slightly panicked. He had said he broke Miriel’s mirror. No, he had shattered it. The sound of the glass as it fell to the floor still seemed to linger within her ears.
She leaned back silently against the headboard, avoiding eye contact with him as he sat down as if to hide her tears. He held in his hand soup, but now the woman had no mind to eat. Indeed, with her fright and the way she had panicked those last moments even the water she had taken was sitting foully in her.
She heard the sound as he placed the bowl back on the table, though did not turn to him, and instead remained misty-eyed and offset. “Sweetheart, she should not have hurt you.” The woman turned back to him; the strong and menacing figure that had stormed back into the room had turned quickly to a temperament more like a child, and Gilwen’s heartstrings tugged and pulled immediately, and slid herself over to offer the man more room. Her own eyes saddened for him, and as he slipped his hand into hers, she caressed the back of his hand a moment. “Nobody should ever touch you again.” “Fael,” she said gently. His eyes were tearing again, and the sight was enough to break Gilwen completely. Oh, he had never shed a tear in front of her before this day, and now to see him weep openly not but once but twice seemed to still her heart.
He turned and sprawled an arm across her lap, looking up at her with teary grey eyes. Immediately, Gilwen’s little arm moved about him to draw him closer to her, and hug him against her side. "I did not want to upset you. I just... could not control it. I love you so much. I cannot stand to see you hurt. I almost lost you." A few fresh tears dripped from her eyes, and with what strength she had, she sought to press him right against her, intent fully on mothering his tears and upset away. She ignored the pain that emanated from her bruise, and slowly began to let her little fingers trail through his curls.
“I am not lost, Fael. I am right here,” she murmured gently. “I am right here,” she repeated. For a moment, she could say nothing else, for indeed she felt utterly drained. Her heart, though, had returned to its normal pace and her eyes had dried themselves of tears.
“I love you, Fael. You have been strained. You can rest now; I am not going anywhere.” While her fingers still held slow ministrations in his hair to calm him, her other had risen to lay on his arm as it fell over her. She wished at that moment, more than anything, she was well. Her Horse Master needed such calming that she felt she was unable to give, and her heart desired to sedate him.
He had kept little to sleep, she mused sadly. “Close your eyes,” she whispered. He just needed to sleep, to rest. He had sought to her, now she could see to him. She looked down to him, and struggled within herself. She knew what would soothe him best, but she had never before done such a thing for him. The lady did not recall that eve upon the mountain, where she had done such a thing freely and without any worry, but now her voice was tentative to come to her. After a moment, though, the woman’s desire to calm her beloved outweighed any concern she held, and ever so quietly, she began to sing.
Hush, lay down your troubled mind The day has vanished and left us behind And the wind - whispering soft lullabies Will soothe - so close your weary eyes… She stopped, breathless. She had no more energy and regressed to simply stroking his curls as she sought to catch her breath in a way that did not disturb him nor brought any pain upon herself. Oh, her Faeldor. Her love. She looked down upon him again, though said no more. He would be faced with a lecture from Meleth for certain, and he would reap the repercussions of his outburst from the rest of his family, but she would be beside him, and she would still him of anxiety.
She was there. He had not lost her.
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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 May 10, 2010 22:37:51 GMT -5
The man could not believe himself. Such extremes in behavior were not the usual for him. Perhaps he had a temper; he always had. Yet, to show the opposite of that in front of another. In front of Gilwen! It was uncalled for by his own reasoning, though in the same way he had not been able to control himself with Miriel, he could not control himself now with Gilwen by his side.
“I am not lost, Fael. I am right here…. I am right here… I am not going anywhere.”
The man tried to listen, and he believed her words. Yet, it was just convincing himself that she would be well now, and that the horrible part of her illness was over. She was weak, and she was tired, and she was upset. Yet, she was not hanging to the thread of life any longer. She would recover. Perhaps slowly, and with much grace. But she would be fine. She would come back to him. She was back.
“Close your eyes.” The man was too strained to protest any of the gentleness that he was receiving. Since he had met Gilwen, she had slowly lulled him with her mild spirit, and the absence of that spirit the past weeks, along with the added strain of her illness, Miriel’s condition, Beleth being absent, and the extra work and trips that Denethor had sent him on. It took all of her gentleness at once to comfort him, and his eyes did close, though he did not sleep.
“Hush, lay down your troubled mind The day has vanished and left us behind And the wind - whispering soft lullabies Will soothe - so close your weary eyes…”
What a lovely voice. The man hardly believed that Gilwen was singing for him, she had only done so once, and she had been highly unstable at that time. But now, her pretty voice comforted him, and her hands were gentle. “You are lovely,” he muttered drowsily when she had finished.
Faeldor was silent for a long while, enjoying the feel of the woman beside him, and the comfort that came to him from her very being. The man was near sleep, though could not allow it yet. A few more minutes passed, and he felt those slender fingers in his hair. He chided himself, knowing that here and now he should be caring for Gilwen, not the other way around.
“Will you eat some of that soup now?” he asked the woman quietly, his voice was soft as he was exhausted and had almost drifted off. “You need to eat. You need to be well again and then you can sleep too. Then I will take you back to Fela Isilme and you can dance for me again.” And I will marry you, he thought. He tightened his grip on the little woman for a moment, then slowly brought himself back to sitting. His face was weary and drawn, yet he had calmed now, and he reached for the bowl once more.
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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 May 10, 2010 23:13:54 GMT -5
Faeldor had nestled against her tightly, and while at first his sudden show of emotion had startled the woman, a rather calm feeling had settled in now. Gilwen was a nurturer; she felt others’ pain, though also sought to mend spirits and care for those that needed her. Mothering, as many would call it. She took much solace in the way she could see Faeldor’s body begin to relax where he had been near rigid with fury, and she let her love seep from her in gentle motions. He was beginning to still, and Gilwen’s heart was made glad.
He had closed his eyes, and Gilwen looked down upon him with a great softness. She did not wish him to fight the lull of sleep he was descending into. He had clearly taken care of her over the last two weeks. She had awoken this very morning with him slumbering uncomfortably in a chair beside her; it was his turn for the same rest and regeneration he had hoped her to have.
For a moment she could not tell if Faeldor had indeed drifted off to sleep or not, though after a moment of silence following her short verse of the lullaby, she heard him speak. “You are lovely.” She smiled quietly, though said nothing in response, savoring the last bit of energy she had. She closed her eyes, then, and leaned back upon the headboard of the bed delicately, fighting sleep merely to keep her fingers within Faeldor’s dark curls.
A silence descended over them, both lady and master utterly overrun by fatigue. Gilwen’s motions had begun to slow, and the weight of her eyes began to grow. No longer was she simply resting. She would have sighed if she was not mindful of her own bruises. Certainly to give herself a spasm with Faeldor tucked against her would prove ill-fated, and would probably work only to rile his temper once more.
“Will you eat some of that soup now?”
Gilwen could have moaned. No, she was spent by way of energy. She did not think she could stand to be awake long enough, or truly keep herself moving long enough to eat anything. Still, she did nothing but let her brown eyes flutter open once more, and to look back down to the man against her side.
“You need to eat. You need to be well again and then you can sleep too. Then I will take you back to Fela Isilme and you can dance for me again.”
She felt him tighten his grip on her, and the woman finally stilled her ministrations within his curls as he began to right himself and sit up. It was a slow and heavy motion, for it appeared he was drained of energy just as much as she, though he was still supplied in strength. He reached for the bowl and spoon, and after much effort, Gilwen had taken it from him.
Still a proud woman, she was not about to let herself be fed as a child. Though, she was not about to admit such a thing to Faeldor and instead murmured softly, “I shall eat. You lay down and rest.”
Though, even as she spoke those words, she could feel the struggle it was going to be for her to eat. Already the bowl felt heavy in her hands, and she lowered it to her lap and stared. Truly, it was not a large bowl, nor should it have been exceedingly heavy. Oh, but it felt as if she were holding a basin of water, and her muscles already began to tremble under the strain. She took the spoon in her other hand and slowly and carefully dipped it into the broth.
She let it sit there a moment, frowning ever so lightly. She was utterly dismayed by how far she would have to bring the spoon to touch her lips; everything felt as lead. Still, with a set reserve, she finally began to lift the spoon to her lips. However, her muscles trembled beneath their use and she merely spilt the broth upon the nightdress. The pallid woman clearly looked distressed and disappointed, and she did nothing but drop the spoon back into the bowl and gaze upon it, eyes watering.
Was she so weak? So helpless? Little hands made move to try once more, determined to prove to herself she was not a child. She had strength in her yet, and she sought to prove it. That nobody needed to worry over her or dote on her any longer, she was able to care for herself. However, before the spoon had a chance to lift inches from the bowl, the broth was tumbling over the side back inside.
Gilwen said nothing, still and stared teary eyed down to her lap, in her exhaustion unable to hide her frustrated tears as they began to form. She just wanted to rest.
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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 May 11, 2010 9:27:32 GMT -5
“I shall eat. You lay down and rest.”
Faeldor had meant to feed the woman her broth, but she had moved to take the bowl from him. The man had his doubts that she would manage, but did not wish to put up an argument nor embarrass her, so he gave over the bowl, helping it into her lap. And he only watched her attempts. He would have frowned, had he not controlled his features. Gilwen certainly did not need anything more to upset her. She had already been pressed far enough in her fatigue this morning, and it was barely dawn.
The room was quiet. Faeldor faintly heard the scraping of a broom upon the stone floor. The scratching of the shards as they were cleaned up. Likely, his mother was stooped, cleaning the floor. First she would sweep, and then go over the floor half a dozen times with a damp cloth to be sure that all the shards had been taken up. He felt faintly guilty for causing his mother work and trouble so early in morning. Miriel was in no condition to be hands and knees upon the floor. Nor would Meleth allow her mother or the children a task of that sort.
However, Faeldor’s attention was drawn upon Gilwen, as he watched her attempt to eat from aside. She appeared not to hear anything from the other room, for her frail body seemed in full concentration upon the spoon and the bowl. She spilled once, and her eyes teared, and then a second time, and she seemed further distressed. Faeldor could not allow that frustrated look to remain upon her pretty face, and so without asking, he reached for the bowl and took it up once more.
“There is nothing I wish to do more right now than to care for my Starlight when she needs me. Just let me, dear, for my own sake. You know it helps my own heart to help you.” He tried to put the issue on himself, that Gilwen might wish to comfort Faeldor more by allowing him to feed her, or to do whatever things she needed. He was not about to simply let her go without eating again just because she was too weak to feed herself. Surely, if she ate a bit now, she would be better off later, the next time she awoke. She would regain her strength. At this rate, if she tried to feed herself and took one or two bites before she was too weakened to continue, regaining her strength and energy would take months.
He tenderly spoon fed Gilwen, more than he had been able to before, confident that when she woke she would have brighter eyes for it. By now her body was likely used to so little food that this broth was a feast. He did not wish to overdo it, and so he moved slowly, giving her well enough time between each bite to recover. Perhaps a few weeks of his mother’s cooking could help her back on track. If Faeldor had to sit with her every meal and force her to eat, he would, for her thin features were almost unbearable to him. She was always beautiful to him, yet when he looked realistically at the picture, she had been starving herself now for nearly three weeks. It would take time. Faeldor wished to make her eat that whole bowl of soup, just thinking about it, but knew it would only upset her stomach.
After the woman had taken half of the bowl, Faeldor could see that her heavy eyes and tired body could take no more of this sitting up. He placed the bowl back on the table and helped Gilwen with another sip of water, before he lowered her back down to the pillows, helping her find her comfort, and pulling the covers loosely about her. Faeldor leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead, both for the tender action of doing so, and the double reason of checking her temperature once more, to assure himself that her fever had not returned.
When he was certain the woman was comfortable, and indeed it looked like she would barely hold her eyes open a moment longer, Faeldor moved to lay on the bed as well. He did not slip beneath the covers, knowing it to be too warm for himself fully clothed as he was, but he did lay close enough to Gilwen that he could spread his arm contented over her little body, and comfort himself with her in his sleep. He needed not say a word, for his embrace was enough, and he did not wish Gilwen to speak anymore.
When Meleth finally finished settling the children, and cleaning the mess, and had calmed her anger, she found herself standing in the doorway of Faeldor’s bedroom, looking in on the two as they slept. Her heart softened once more for her dear son, and pitied Gilwen for her state. She shut the door quietly again, going to resume her morning duties as mother of the household. Dressing and washing children, brushing and braiding tangled hair, cooking breakfast, starting a pot of stew for lunch before the dishes were even done for breakfast was over. There was much to do.
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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 May 11, 2010 11:13:29 GMT -5
Her brown eyes had been unwavering upon the spoon and her thin hands. So much so, that Gilwen’s surroundings had fallen away. As it turned, such a thing was a blessing; for indeed if the lady had heard the sounds of cleaning, her inner servant would have wished to take over for Meleth as a form of gratitude, and Faeldor would have tired of trying to stop her.
Still, Gilwen was in her own battle, and her mind was racing with thoughts of dismay and frustration. Though, all of them gave way to a sudden surprise as the bowl was whisked from her lap. Her brown eyes looked at Faeldor, partly surprised he had not rested as she had asked him to and overwhelmingly embarrassed that she could see his intentions.
“There is nothing I wish to do more right now than to care for my Starlight when she needs me. Just let me, dear, for my own sake. You know it helps my own heart to help you.”
Immediately the woman’s pale cheeks flushed, and she averted her eyes. She was to be spoon fed as a child. And by Faeldor! He was the only man in all of Arda that needed to see her strength. Here, now, it was as if she was a daughter of his own rather than someone whom he would choose to be a mother to his daughters.
Nonetheless, the woman complied, and let him slowly feed her without any protest, and it took well over half of her little meal before she fought the shame enough to look at him at all. Still, it was more because she sought to rest. Indeed, her stomach felt entirely full, though Gilwen knew she had not taken much by way of food, and she was loosing her battle with exhaustion. If Faeldor did not stop, soon he would surely find her slumped over where she sat.
It did not come to that, for Faeldor did lay the bowl back upon the table and give her one more sip of water before he began to lift and nestle Gilwen back into her pillows, and tucking her in with a bristled kiss to her forehead. The lady’s eyes closed upon the motion, and slowly she felt her body relax as she was finally able to allow.
Faintly she was aware that Faeldor had tucked himself beside her again. She could hear and feel his breaths and felt the comforting weight of his arm as it lied across her. As if to draw herself closer, the woman, now lacking of all strength, turned her face toward his warmth. Finally she was descended into the sleep she so desired.
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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 May 11, 2010 15:35:38 GMT -5
Faeldor’s nap took him into late morning, and it was almost time for the noon meal when his eyes flickered open. Gilwen was asleep next to him, just as he had last seen her hours ago, unmoving, though her breaths were rising and falling in her chest. Her sleep seemed less weighted than her unconsciousness had been. Though, he was tempted to do anything to wake her and see that she was indeed still at least as well as she had been in the morning.
He stilled his intent, knowing it better for the woman to rest. She seemed peaceful at least, and he would not take that from the pretty dear. He slowly drew his arm from her, and stood carefully from the bed. He eyed her for a moment, walking to his closet to change his clothes. The man took up what he was going to wear, and glanced at Gilwen once more. Then, he took himself right into the spacious closet and shut the door behind himself, changing in the dark. He was certain that the woman was still fast asleep, though, certainly she would appreciate his modesty nonetheless.
The man watched Gilwen as he came out, tossing his clothes again on the pile of laundry that had been unattended to, and then peeked out through the curtained windows. Midday. No wonder he was hungry. He felt his stomach rumbling and worried that the noise of it would wake Gilwen. Faeldor paused a moment to refill her cup with the pitcher of water, sitting it near the edge of the table, that she might reach for it if she awoke and he had not returned. Then he retreated from the room.
Lunch was a quiet affair for most of the household. The family sat together as always for the noon meal, save for Tinuves and Melanir who took their midday meal together and alone on the patio of the gardens. The younger children, having forgotten the noise and clatter of the morning laughed and chattered on while they ate, but Meleth, and her three eldest children sat quiet and rigid.
“Pass the butter please, Fael,” Miriel almost whispered from across the table, not looking up to meet the man’s eyes. While Faeldor had not said a thing to his sister since entering the room, he had not looked to her kindly. Meleth suspected that she would need take some form of intervention between the two of them, for this seemed something that her eldest son would be unwilling to work out on his own. Though, not with the children about, she told herself.
The adults were quiet for some moments longer. Faeldor finally spoke as he finished his bowl of stew. “I am going to make for the stables this afternoon to see that everything is in order. If Gilwen wakes, tell her I will be back by supper tonight.” He waited for his mother to nod before he excused himself.
After the Stablemaster had left, Miriel looked to her mother. “He is so angry,” she whispered, her voice quivering slightly. She had hardly been able to stop herself from her tears all morning.
“He has a right to be angry,” Meleth told her eldest daughter sharply. “What you did was not right. Not at all. But we will not speak of this here,” she said, glancing toward the young children. Only Marileth chanced looking at her sister and mother; not knowing entirely what the morning’s controversy had been, though guessing it had something to do with the way Miriel had treated Gilwen.
Miriel had hoped for some comfort, from her mother at least. Though, she received none. While Faledor had handled the news of Gilwen’s injuries in a quick and high tempered manner, Meleth was treating the news coldly. It had been as much a surprise to her that those wounds had been inflicted by her daughter, as it was a surprise to Faeldor. She was not proud of the girl, nor would she comfort her over the matter. Miriel found herself in quick retreat from the table; though she was always hungry these days, she could not bring herself to eat her meal, and excused herself, wandering back toward her bedroom.
She stopped though, at the door to her brother’s bedroom. She did not continue to her own, but stood outside of Faeldor’s room for a few moments. The door was just cracked open slightly, and after gaining her countenance, Miriel’s shaking hand moved to push it open the rest of the way, as she stepped into the room.
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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 May 11, 2010 21:07:24 GMT -5
Gilwen had certainly rested well, though about the time the noon-day meal was being served downstairs, the lady slowly began to rouse. Before she even opened her eyes she could feel an absence of warmth and knew that Faeldor had risen already. Her eyes fluttered open, and drowsily her eyes confirmed her belief and the lady let out a careful sigh. Her body still felt utterly heavy, though she mused it would take her some time to nurse her strength completely back after the state she had been in.
She struggled to sit herself up, which took her a good amount of time. Though with the action completed, Gilwen felt a tinge of hope: she was not completely helpless. She heard the melodic giggles of the smaller children wafting up the stairwell, for the silence of the second story gave her naught to disrupt the sound. A sudden feeling of loneliness crept upon her, and for a good space the weak creature pondered the idea of trying to venture downstairs. The idea did not last long as she thought of her struggle to even sit up and ultimately decided she would not be able to even stand on her own. It did little to cheer her, though now free from delusions did opt to stay in bed.
Her brown eyes soon noticed the glass of water upon the bedside table. Gilwen pressed her lips together and slowly reached for it, hoping beyond everything that she was well enough to at least allow herself drink. Her spoon feeding was still bright in her mind, though, and she held many doubts. Nonetheless her sense of pride did not allow her to not try. Her little hand wrapped meekly about it, and she attempted to lift it. The water rippled with her unsteadiness, and the lady began to chew her lip in concentration.
It was then the door swung open. The little lady was so startled by the suddenness of the motion she near dropped the glass, though because it was hardly lifted, it nearly fell heavily back to the table. Gilwen looked to the entryway, expecting to see her Horse Master coming to check on her, though froze as she noticed who it was. Her hand slowly came back to her side, and gripped at the sheets that still were tucked in her lap.
The surprise soon gave way to a hint of unease and trepidation, and tracings of such a thing glimmered in her eyes, though she did not appear cold. “M-miriel,” the woman whispered. She studied the woman’s face a moment, though saw no tracings of anger. Still, being bedridden Gilwen noted horrifically she would have no way of avoiding any storm that might brew.
“I…I am sorry,” she whispered meekly. “I-I did not wish to tell him. I told him to let it be,” her eyes watered slightly, though to hide it she dropped her gaze to her lap. She did not know what else to say. Perhaps saying the truth first would alleviate any distaste the woman might hold against her for the morning’s incident. Still, she could not help but wonder what had drawn the lady to enter the room. Miriel could not stand her.
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Miriel
Man
Cook
Time engraves our faces with all the tears we have not shed.[Mo0:0]
Posts: 48
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Post by Miriel on May 14, 2010 20:21:25 GMT -5
The young woman shut the door behind her softly, standing not far from the doorframe afterwards. Her slender hand hovered over her growing stomach, lightly gripping the fabric of her dress to attempt a steady upon her hands. The woman’s face as strained, though certainly not with anger. Her anger had long since left her, and now, she had only grief and remorse.
“M-miriel…I am sorry, I-I did not wish to tell him. I told him to let it be.”
Miriel watched the woman’s thin frame as she spoke, the guilt of her part in all this madness filling her with more grief. She felt sick to her stomach. It was obvious that Gilwen was terrified of her, and she had no reason to not be, it was certain; after the last encounter, which after the morning’s incidents and the further confession now, she knew that Gilwen remembered in full. “Do not apologize,” she said softly, and quickly.
“Did… did… you wish for a drink?” the woman asked, her voice still low and entirely insecure. The woman folded her arms about her once more, and bit her lip, before decidedly moving closer to the bed, and finally close enough to pick up the water cup. She lifted it and frowned slightly, noting that it was almost full to the brim. Faeldor clearly had not been thinking when he filled the thing, for Miriel’s own shaking hands nearly spilled over, and Miriel knew that the woman in bed must have no strength whatsoever. She moved to pour half the water back into the pitcher, then slowly extended the now lighter cup toward Gilwen.
The green eyed woman was for once perhaps at a loss for words, and she fumbled over what to say. Her eyes teared slightly and her stomach was entirely unsettled; she gripped at it, wishing to curl up. Holding her baby was a comfort to the woman, even if right now it only meant wrapping her arms about her abdomen. Her baby had become almost a security to her; always there, never leaving. She loved the little being growing inside of her. Despite the way her baby had come to her, she loved the little being dreadfully. Her thoughts wandered for some moments as her body lost some tension and she stood not far from the bed.
Finally, bringing herself to the chair that Faeldor had left bedside the night previous she sat down, drawing her knees up into the large chair with her and curling them at her side. She leaned back. Miriel had in fact been keeping some watch with Gilwen throughout her illness, assisting where she could. Yet now it was different, with the woman back to her awareness. “The rolling pin…” she started, and tears began to stream from her eyes. “I was just so angry… I do not understand why anymore…” She wiped her eyes, taking a deep breath and trying to regain herself.
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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 May 14, 2010 20:59:22 GMT -5
Gilwen could hardly believe the woman had spoken softly to her, and immediately her tears seemed to ebb away. Had she said she need not apologize? Gilwen’s pink eyes were wide with wonder at the very thought, but more such surprise came as the woman neared the bedside.
Involuntarily, the woman cowered slightly back into her pillows, and dropped her eyes as if to avoid inciting some great surge of violence from Miriel. Warily though, the young woman watched her from under her lashes.
“Did… did… you wish for a drink?”
This seemed strange. Gilwen’s head swam slightly with the very nature of the interaction she was having. Perhaps it was the fact Miriel was under her mother’s roof that had stopped her from snapping as she had done so many times before, though it had not stopped her prior to this. Was it the fact she was in her brother’s bedroom that kept her temper at bay? Or had the lady changed so much within the past few weeks that this was now the norm?
“Y-y-yes,” Gilwen stammered slowly. She watched carefully as Miriel poured half of the glass back into the pitcher. A part of her braced herself for the liquid to be dumped upon her, though no such thing had come to pass. Instead, Miriel handed her the glass gently, and Gilwen accepted it slowly, though did not drink right away. “Thank you,” she said ever so softly.
After a moment, the lady did drink, though it was only a short sip before she placed it once more upon the bedside table. Much to her surprise, Miriel had been seating herself in Faeldor’s large chair, and was now quite curled up and looking upon her with a strange gaze.
“The rolling pin…I was just so angry… I do not understand why anymore…”
And then, the most surprising thing occurred: Miriel began to cry. Gilwen sat in a shocked silence for a while, unable to think of what to say. “I shall heal,” the lady finally decided to say, though her voice was ever so quiet. She could not bring herself to utter the words, “It is all right.” She did not think it was. While she had every right to hate that woman for all that she had caused, Gilwen did not.
Still, the little lady was feeling another well of motherly instinct within her. The same way she had wished to comfort Faeldor, she wished to comfort his family. “Do not cry,” she murmured soothingly. “Do not let it trouble you anymore. It is done.” Her words seemed plenty, and they were certainly draining, but the woman did not stop. “The stress is not well for you.”
For a moment the woman reached to touch Miriel’s leg in a soft touch to comfort her further that Gilwen meant to ill will. Though, halfway through her motion Gilwen’s hand fluttered back to her side. Miriel detested her hands. She would not lay them upon her.
Her words ceased, and the woman’s brown doe eyes gazed upon her with a soft worry and distress. No sign of ill will within them lied, and more than anything shone a gentleness. Finally, a loving tone slipped into her voice. “I could not hate you, Miriel.” She was the sister of the man she loved. One day, when they were wed and happy together in their own home, Miriel would be a sister. No matter how foully the woman had treated her in the past, she could not bring herself to hate someone she knew her love to care for deeply. Perhaps she had grown frightened of her temper and of her strength, but never had she thought of hate. Perhaps hearing such a thing would calm her well enough to keep her tension and stress low. In Miriel’s condition, she should not be so upset.
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Miriel
Man
Cook
Time engraves our faces with all the tears we have not shed.[Mo0:0]
Posts: 48
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Post by Miriel on May 15, 2010 22:41:12 GMT -5
“I could not hate you, Miriel.”
This seemed to push Miriel further into her tears, and she slouched back in the chair, burying her face in her hands. How could Gilwen not hate her? It was difficult to fathom. Miriel had so easily hated Gilwen at first, and then for quite a time. She thought she had never hated a person more than she had hated Gilwen. Rosiel and Durion only encouraged her further.
Yet, the guilt had ridden on the woman from almost the moment she had started to despise Gilwen. It was small at first, though now these past few weeks, she had been nothing but a wreck. Since she had beat that woman and sent her back into the rain, she had been unable to relieve herself of the shame. She had told no one, of what she had done. She did not wish for Durion or Rosiel to relish in the joy. Nor for Faeldor to find out and burn in anger.
Miriel gasped lightly, trying to wipe her eyes with her sleeve, and breath enough to speak. “I just… do not want… Fael to hate me.” She managed the words, but as soon as they were out of her lips, her sobbing became a bit more desperate. Faeldor was so angry with her. He would have struck her. Even with the help that Miriel had offered Gilwen since her arrival to their home, Faeldor had been cold to her, blaming her. While, in truth it was Miriel’s fault for beginning the mad rumors that had led to this day, and also for sending Gilwen back into the rain… Faeldor had at least not known the last part. Now he did though. Now he would truly disown her.
Everyone hated her, she considered. Her mother was cold with her. Most of the children were fearful of her, even moreso lately with her moods and the changes she could not control. Beleth her dear sister was far away. Tinuves spoke to her little, and Melanir often frowned at her. Faeldor had been close with her even through the past years when the others had not. Now, she was losing her brother. Even while he was still in their household he was cold with her and hated her for what she had done to Gilwen. She thought that Gilwen had been taking her brother from her, yet perhaps it was her own actions that were causing Faeldor to distance himself.
The woman cried a bit longer, her body heaving, as she tried to curl into herself. She was tired of Rosiel’s betrayals, and sick of waiting for Durion to acknowledge her. She was so sad. She felt as if she had truly lost everyone, and there was no hope. Even the life within her would eventually abandon her. Would that little baby care for her? A baby had to love it’s mother, did it not?
It was some minutes longer before the young woman tired. She had cried so much in the past weeks that she was exhausted from it, and knew she could not carry on. The crying seemed to help her somewhat, for at least it was a form of feeling. She wiped her eyes, and lifted her head to look out the window. The sky was drab, and just the look of it made her feel chilled. She bit her lip, taking a deep breath, and finally managing to raise her eyes back to Gilwen’s gaze. She did not know what to say or do, but she could not bring herself to simply leave the room yet. The weak woman in the bed seemed to be the only one in the household who did not glare at her.
“You will be my baby’s aunt,” she said mildly after a time, her hand finding its way back to her stomach, where it coursed lightly over her rounded waist. It was all she could think to say. It would seem too much to say any more on how regretful she was of wounding that woman who her brother adored, and thinking of it more would send her back to tears. Saying that Gilwen would be an aunt though, well, it was admitting in a side manner that Gilwen would marry Faeldor. It was inevitable. Such an admission was much coming from Miriel. “Would you hold to her as kindly as you do to Eoric and the others?” she wondered. Miriel’s mother-to-be eyes had never missed how gentle Gilwen was with the small children. “She might never have a father, or a sibling, or any more family… and I do not wish her to feel as alone as I do.”
Miriel thought for a moment. Speaking of her baby was a comfort to her, and she did not expect Gilwen to say much for her sickness, and even her personality. But Miriel had none to talk to, and she was already saying more than she had in a time. “I am going to name her Melien, for my mother. If she is a boy, well, I cannot fathom it, but he would not be named for her father, nor any of his family,” the woman frowned lightly again, though startled slightly as she felt movement beneath her hand. As if her child had awoken to its mother’s caress. It was not the first time that she had felt the life move within her, though, it surprised and delighted her each time.
“She is moving,” Miriel explained eventually. “Would you… like to touch her?” Miriel willed herself to ask. “Her other aunts have felt her move, aside Beleth who has been away, but you have not. Have you felt a baby move before?” she wondered. She took a moment to slide herself from the chair, pulling it nearer the bedside, and then sitting herself down, well within reach of Gilwen.
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