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 16, 2010 0:49:26 GMT -5
Between gasping breaths, Gilwen could make out words distinct from Miriel’s sobs. “I just… do not want… Fael to hate me.” Gilwen immediately frowned, though still looked softly upon the woman. She certainly looked a wreck, and in truth the swelling need that Gilwen felt within her to care for Miriel and still her tears was certainly draining her of her energy once more. “He does not hate you,” she said softly. “He is your brother, and he shall always love you.”
There was nothing left for her to do other than sit back and let the woman’s tears run their course. Ever shuddering gasp and cry seemed a battering ram to Gilwen’s heart. It was utterly broken for the woman, and silently she vowed to speak to Faeldor the next time she saw him. Perhaps tonight would be better served spent with his sister, and not herself. Gilwen knew, and had always known, his family came first. They were not wed, so she could not claim priority, nor would she wish to in a case like this. It would do her well to know that Miriel was taken care of. If things could mend between her beloved and his sister, she knew he would be glad.
Finally, she stilled her tears. For a time it had been silent, and Gilwen had not minded. She would not bid Miriel leave, and she would certainly allow her to sit in here for a time as she desired. It was her house, after all. And if Gilwen could have, she would have hardly allowed herself to be here. It was shameful for her; now it seemed his family knew everything.
“You will be my baby’s aunt. Would you hold to her as kindly as you do to Eoric and the others? 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.”
Gilwen was stunned. She did not know where to begin, though felt that her response to this would surely take many words and drain her even more. Nonetheless, Gilwen would not have denied the woman her answer, for Miriel was in quite a state, and needed to be calmed. “…I…do not know if I shall truly be the child’s aunt,” Gilwen began quietly, her own eyes watering for a moment. “Fael…he desires my father’s approval before he shall take me as a wife, and…” Gilwen wiped a tear from her cheek as she finished. “And Papa hates him. He hates us both.”
After a moment of recovering herself, she finally lifted her eyes to Miriel. “But I promise that I shall hold her as I do Eoric, whenever you wish me to.” She paused a moment, seeking a deeper breath, though finding one carefully. “She shall not be alone, as you are not alone. Fael loves you. Your family loves you,” she stopped, unable to say more. She felt the sudden urge to cry herself, though stopped any tears from rolling down her cheeks. No, they did not hate Miriel. But her Papa…her Papa hated her. He had to. He had thrown her to the street like garbage, and had never once sought her to bring her home. He did not miss her. “…They would never cast you out,” she finished quietly and heavily.
“She is moving. Would you… like to touch her?”
Gilwen watched as Miriel moved closer to the bed to allow her such a chance as to feel the movement of the baby. She had never felt a baby move before, and while it certainly drew a great desire from the woman, it drew also a spot of envy. With the idea that perhaps Faeldor and she would never marry, the idea of being childless came to her in full. And even if they wed, it was possible she was barren. And while she would desire children greatly, she could come to none. And Miriel had begotten one easily.
Morosely, she mused on the fact that this child that Miriel carried could be the only chance she ever got to feel an unborn baby’s flutters, and she desired to take it. Still, as she started to reach she stopped. She did not wish to draw attention to her unsightly hands, and knew that Faeldor was the only person in Minas Tirith who would not find her touch coarse and rough. Certainly Miriel should not have to suffer under it. “I shouldn’t,” she said quietly, casting her eyes to the window sadly. “But thank you.”
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Miriel
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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 16, 2010 8:57:41 GMT -5
“…I…do not know if I shall truly be the child’s aunt. Fael…he desires my father’s approval before he shall take me as a wife, and… And Papa hates him. He hates us both.”
“When Faeldor makes up his mind, it is set,” was all Miriel managed to say. Of course her brother was going to marry that woman. He had shown everyone in the house the ring which he had engraved for her, and he had spoken of her nonstop since the very day they had met. It had been what had enraged Miriel in the first place; her brother’s attention being taken elsewhere. Though, now, she would wish it of him, at least somewhat. The past weeks while Gilwen had fallen ill, and her mother and grandmother had whispered together in belief that she would make it, Faeldor had been… well, horrible. She had never seen her brother so morose and hopeless. Even when her father had died he had taken better care of himself.
Her own words pressed Miriel back into a near state of tears. Faeldor had been so angry at her! Certainly in the same way that her brother’s love lasted for this woman beside her, his anger would last with his sister. Perhaps Gilwen did not know what she was speaking. Of course she knew she would not be cast out, but shortly Fael would marry and move on to his own home with Gilwen, and she feared that she would see him no more. Oh, she trusted that her brother would never break ties with his family, and probably see them every day still. Yet not with her, she knew. His anger was cold with her.
When Gilwen began to cry, Miriel was uncertain of what to do. She had seen the woman cry before, though not for the same reasons, and she had never once attempted to comfort her. It had made her glad before, in a sickening way, and the woman felt the brunt of shame once more. Miriel rarely comforted anyone, she did not seem to know how! She was at a loss for words for some moments, though eventually she came to something. At least, if she could not comfort the woman, her brother could. In truth, she felt guilt for everything that had happened to Gilwen, for at least her anger had been a starting point of it. Perhaps not all the rumors, as the women in the palace were quite loquacious and she had barely needed start anything there. Durion had lost her father his job, and Rosiel had lost Gilwen hers. Still, Miriel had encouraged them. Her chest felt heavy.
“Faeldor would not let you be cast out. He always cares for us. He would never let a thing happen to even one. My brother is not like that, to send someone out…” As Miriel waited to allow Gilwen to touch the bulge of her dress, she thought on that matter. Faeldor would never have cast Miriel out. Certainly not in her condition. She had done enough to require it, she was certain, but she knew her father would never do such a thing to his daughter, and Fael tried so hard to be his father. His own anger could not send him over the edge, for he knew his father’s thoughts.
Miriel watched Gilwen. She had looked slightly upset at the mention of the baby though, and so Miriel wondered if Gilwen truly detested her for her condition as well. Truthfully, she had not asked for a child. She had not wanted one of the accord that this one came. She only desired some form of comfort and affection, and Durion had given that to her fleetingly each time she visited with him. Yet, it was never enough to raise her spirits. The child within her had done more to comfort her than anyone.
“I shouldn’t. But thank you.” She watched as Gilwen’s hand had risen and then fell back upon the bed again.
Miriel simply stared at the woman. She had refused to touch her baby already, when she had just stated that she would care for her. Perhaps the baby was not alone, as she was still within her mother’s womb, but Miriel certainly felt alone. She slowly slipped back into the chair, wrapping her arms protectively around her torso as if to shield the child from the injustice she was sure to face. If Durion were not to declare himself as the rightful father and deny existence of his own child, what would she do? An illegitimate child. Others would not let it be forgotten. Perhaps, not even Gilwen, it seemed. Her eyes filled with tears again.
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Gilwen
Man
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There are times when silence has the loudest voice.[Mo0:0]
Posts: 593
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Post by Gilwen on May 16, 2010 9:46:22 GMT -5
“When Faeldor makes up his mind, it is set.”
Well, his mind had been made up to wait for approval. She did not fear that Faeldor would leave her, or love another. She feared never being able to call him her husband, and never being able to show him her love in full, always being subject to rumors and condemning eyes.
“Faeldor would not let you be cast out. He always cares for us. He would never let a thing happen to even one. My brother is not like that, to send someone out…”
No, he was not. But she was not his family; once she was well enough, propriety would call her to leave. She could not stay in Faeldor’s bed forever if they were not married. Though, she wished to. At that moment, she wished he would come in through the door. The little woman was trembling with her unshed tears, and wanted to have him come wrap his arms about her and tell her everything was going to be all right. That he would get her father’s approval, and that they would have their children and be happy. That they would grow old and deeper in love as their lives moved on, and she would never once have to worry. He had said so much of this before, and now Gilwen needed to hear it again.
As Gilwen had churned in her own morose thoughts, she had heard the beginnings of tears once more in Miriel, and the woman turned to face her again. “Miriel, please,” she murmured her own eyes watering. “I did not mean to upset you,” she added shakily. Oh, these were so many words for someone who desired nothing but silence and to listen to others. Still, it seemed here with Miriel that stilling her words or leaving things unsaid would merely upset the woman more, and Gilwen wanted to care for her.
“I…” She trailed off, a little swell of pain in her eyes as she finished. “I love children. And, while I greatly desire some of my own, I…” She nearly broke into a sob but contained herself well enough. “I am old enough now to be utterly barren.” She finished in a whisper, and even through her teary eyes she tried to smile at Miriel.
“Forgive me,” she began again. “I should like to feel her. My own….” She paused looking for the right word. She could find no other than the one she finished with. “self-hate stilled me.” She finally succumbed to her tears, borrowing back into her pillows with silent sobs.
Everything had gone wrong. Gilwen now very much looked at herself the way the others did. Her father detested her, she looked down upon herself like the other people of Minas Tirith. She was homeless; a wretched waif like once she was called. Nothing in Arda would be able to change Beregar’s mind over Faeldor, and he would certainly not take her as a wife if he had not her father’s sanction. And without marriage, he could gift her no children of her own.
“I am overwhelmed,” she whispered, her cheeks utterly streaked and wet. “If…if my hands are not too rough….may I?” She asked meekly. She would care for that child. Gilwen had not once passed judgment on the lady for any of her actions, and in an entirely characteristic fashion had blamed herself for all of the grievances Miriel had against her.
And, if she were to truly come to no children of her own, Gilwen would only be able to tend to the children that people would allow her to hold for a time. Eoric, and this baby that Miriel carried. While perhaps begotten in a way that would bring much grief to her mother, the child was a blessing nonetheless. And here, Gilwen had passed time with Miriel and not been struck or criticized. She did not wish to drive her away, or to cause her to think she did not desire her friendship and company.
Gilwen desperately wanted Miriel to love her. While she would always silently receive beatings and harsh words, Gilwen did not wish to. She had never had sisters of her own, and even if they legally never became so, Faeldor’s family was like her own. Though here, the man of the house would never throw her away.
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Miriel
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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 16, 2010 17:48:14 GMT -5
The young woman was surprised to hear how Gilwen continued to speak. Even after she had curled herself back into the chair, she began to explain herself, putting the blame on herself. Miriel knew that her sister would have done better to comfort the other woman over these matters, because she was not knowledgeable in matters of child bearing. Yet, Gilwen was not much older than herself. No, she did not descend from the line of Dol Amroth, which gave Miriel’s relations longer life and fecundity, yet still, she was not that old. Only a year younger than Faeldor himself, and her brother was not an old man.
“I did not know,” was all that Miriel managed. She was not certain what else to say. “Have you… already tried… for a child then and been unable?” She bit her lip. She knew not her brother’s business, nor if they had committed to the type of loving that she had condoned with Durion. It did not seem Gilwen’s style, but then again, she seemed desperate at this topic. Miriel had not known. For all the worry that Gilwen was showing of the matter, it seemed that Gilwen’s worry was unnecessary if they had not even made such an attempt. She was still in her twenties afterall.
Faeldor certainly loved children and would be one of the best fathers she could even imagine. It seemed wrong for him to marry someone who could not give him children. Yet then, her brother was full of love and would certainly find another way to expend it if not upon his own children. Miriel did not wish to say more, for fear that she would upset the situation, and she was trying her best not to make a fool of herself with words at this moment. She did have a knack for charm when she desired it, unlike her deceitful friend Rosiel.
“I am overwhelmed… If…if my hands are not too rough….may I?”
Miriel nodded, though was not certain whether Gilwen had seen her do so, and so she moved in her chair. The small woman was still crying, and her cheeks her wet. Miriel had wiped her face, yet it seemed that Gilwen was exhausted, and she just sat back in that bed, more tears streaming. In rare form, Miriel looked about her, and moved to grasp one of the clean handkerchiefs left atop the table dresser, and slowly lifted her heavy body from the chair, moving to sit just barely on the edge of the bed. She helped the sick woman to wipe her face, and then took up her limp arm by the wrist and placed her hand down upon her own stomach, that Gilwen might feel her baby.
“Your hands are not… that bad,” Miriel started, feeling sorry for Gilwen now. “If you just would not work them so hard they could be softer.” It was as close to a compliment as Miriel could give at the time. And while it would have sounded offensive still to some, any who knew Miriel’s demeanor would have known better than to think so.
“Do just wait a few moments. She will kick again, I know it. She adores attention.” Much like her mother, Miriel thought to herself. She made a point of pressing her palm down on the back of Gilwen’s hand, holding her right in place for some minutes to feel the baby’s kick. It was by far the warmest thing that the young woman had ever done for Gilwen, and at the moment, it did not feel wrong at all to do so, Miriel mused. It was much easier and less guilt ridden than anything else she had ever done to Gilwen. Perhaps… well, perhaps she could control herself and manage.
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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 16, 2010 18:56:47 GMT -5
“Have you… already tried… for a child then and been unable?”
“Oh, no,” Gilwen said hurriedly. They had come close, she knew. That night upon the mountain flashed through her mind though the lady released it. “I…just know my mother struggled much.” That was all she said. A part had been she had not wished to dishonor herself, or Miriel’s dear brother. But she would not say such a thing now, especially with Miriel in her current state.
She was still utterly in tears, sifting now through the knowledge she had come by from her mother about the many miscarriages she had experienced, and the sadness in her eyes when she had told Gilwen they had not been able to conceive at all once she had been born. Oh, and her mother had been younger than six and twenty then!
She barely noticed as Miriel stood and crossed to get a handkerchief, though startled immediately as she felt the young woman begin to wipe away her tears. It was not the same way Faeldor rid her cheeks of tear streaks, but a part of Miriel’s gentleness at that time had certainly echoed of Faeldor’s own.
Gilwen’s surprise had stopped her tears, and the woman was further surprised as Miriel grasped her hand and placed it upon her stomach, pressing her hand against hers to keep her.
“Your hands are not… that bad. If you just would not work them so hard they could be softer.”
Gilwen looked up to her for a moment before quietly murmuring, “I had no choice.” The lady, though, could tell that Miriel was certainly trying to be kind. She knew her hands were in horrendous repair. Especially now, after her extended hours and demotion had taken a toll upon them. There was hardly a spot upon them now that seemed untouched by her work, and she marveled at how Faeldor was able to stand her touches.
“Do just wait a few moments. She will kick again, I know it. She adores attention.”
They had sat still for minutes before Gilwen felt the distinct nudge of the baby’s movement. A childlike smile appeared upon her thin face, and at that moment she seemed to have more life in her than she had since she had lost her position near a month ago. “She shall be lovely,” Gilwen whispered quietly, slipping her hand back to her side. “Just like her mother.” Oh, and how true it would be! Gilwen could hardly contain her joy at that moment and she seemed to beam in her excitement. She would hardly be able to wait to be able to see the little baby, and she looked forward to the first time Miriel would allow her to hold her.
It seemed all at once that her exhaustion hit her. She had cried many tears and had taken no lunch, and her body was still in quite a state of disrepair. The lady sank back into her pillows, though seemed contented.
Had it simply taken her to be so near death for her to gain Miriel’s friendship? Gilwen’s heart was glad, and she was oddly thankful for her illness. It had been nice to pass such time with Faeldor’s sister. Where she had heard no raised voices nor felt the sharp sting of some forceful blow, or the wound of a scathing word.
“Thank you,” she said finally. And she meant it; her doe eyes held only honesty.
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Miriel
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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 22, 2010 10:04:09 GMT -5
Miriel was certain; completely certain, that Gilwen would say something condemning of her at this point. She regretted even having asked the question. Her own mind flashed back to the sickening feeling she had felt on that first day of visiting Durion. Right in the brunt of when all those rumors of Gilwen had spread, Miriel had begun her own downfall. Surely the young woman beside her could condemn her for that.
“Oh, no, I…just know my mother struggled much…”
It was all she said, and simply. Still no condemnation. Miriel felt she deserved condemnation, as much as her baby did not deserve it. She bit her lip for a moment before speaking.
“Well, nothing can be said then until you on your own accord have tried. A girl is not her mother. Though I very well seem to follow in my own mother’s footsteps of fertility’s sake.” It was nothing that Meleth had ever spoken on, but it was not a difficult thing to note that Meleth and Faelon had their anniversary in the early spring, while Faeldor had been born that very same summer. That, along with the fact that even in this large house things could be overheard, and Miriel had not missed the like mother, like daughter lectures that Tinuves had spouted off to her own daughter after Miriel had finally passed on the news to her family. Of course the love shared between Meleth and Faelon was something quite different than whatever atrocity was shared between Durion and Miriel.
The two sat in silence for some time as they waited for the baby’s movements to occur, and when they did, Miriel watched Gilwen’s reaction. Her face lit up like nothing the young woman had seen before; at least she had never smiled as such in the presence of this daughter of Faelon. She was actually quite pretty when she smiled, the woman thought; her bias that the woman was hideous crumbling. Perhaps she was even prettier when not ill, pale, and bedridden… with a smile like that. When she had children… if she had children, perhaps they would not be so unlucky in appearance as she had once imagined.
“She shall be lovely. Just like her mother.”
Miriel could not help but let a small smile pass over her lips. It was in fact the first she had smiled in some while. It was the first time in recent weeks that another had called her lovely. The only tribute that she had held the past years against the torment of her mind; which inwardly told her she was worth nothing. “Thank you,” she said quietly, sitting still on the bedside for some moments until Gilwen began to slip back down into the mattress to rest once more.
Though, there was still a severe doubt in her mind that Gilwen had truly meant the compliment. Perhaps it was just said to stave off harsh words or more physical punishment. People often had ulterior motives. At least, anyone who was not of her own family. They all seemed to have hearts of gold; save herself. Mother, Grandmother, Faeldor, Beleth. Even the children looked after one another. Miriel knew that at a whim her own motives changed based on her wants and whims. She was high strung, and she had not previously been kind to Gilwen.
She was not sure why she had entered this lady’s chambers, but it had been such a compelling urge! Her heart had been so sore from the past weeks, and from Faeldor, and even her mother’s stinging words at the noon meal. Perhaps her urge was guilt ridden, or again because of the simple need for companionship that plagued her.
“Mother made a divine applesauce this morning, I think in hopes that she would get you to eat something. Why don’t I go down and fetch some for you?” she added kindly. Though, a part of her doubted that the woman would be awake when she returned; she was looking rather drowsy once more.
She stood slowly from the bed, and made her way to the door, shutting it behind her. Then quietly she descended the stairs, for once, trying not to draw any attention to herself.
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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 22, 2010 19:21:11 GMT -5
“Well, nothing can be said then until you on your own accord have tried. A girl is not her mother. Though I very well seem to follow in my own mother’s footsteps of fertility’s sake.”
Gilwen nodded slowly, though her heart immediately dropped. “…I am afraid I shall do the same,” she admitted in a whisper. No, she told herself sternly. No more of that here. Still, somewhere deep within her, the woman still felt grieved over the thoughts she had held. Oh, her heart would never be able to shake such a feeling of failure if she should come to be an old maid of Minas Tirith without so much as giving her husband a child. She would not be considered a fine lady, certainly, in the eyes of the women, of the very country. It was a woman’s duty to be a mother. If she could not…
The baby had provided a properly timed distraction, and once more Gilwen’s spirits were raised well enough. She was a woman of many emotions, gracefully though quickly changing. While it was rare she voiced or showed such things to most people, to those who knew her well it was generally understood that she was sincere. The words she had given Miriel had been truthful, and a deep look into her eyes would have told any that.
“Mother made a divine applesauce this morning, I think in hopes that she would get you to eat something. Why don’t I go down and fetch some for you?”
Before Gilwen even had a time to answer, Miriel had stood and had vanished quietly out the door, shutting it behind her. Gilwen watched after her a few moments, though soon the weight and exhaustion she felt drew her eyelids to droop and for her body to weaken more.
She forced herself to lie down, gripping tightly to her chest one of the pillows of the bed. She buried her face into it; from his time with her, the pillow smelt faintly of Faeldor, and the lady sighed wearily. She held the pillow close, relishing the familiar smell of her beloved until she had finally succumbed to sleep.
“Papa!” The voice was gleeful, and Gilwen raced toward the man as he stood before her. The place was strange; the grasses were tall, though a dirt road ran through the field, and it was that they stood on.
At first, Beregar’s face had seemed friendly, though the closer Gilwen got to him she could begin to see his smile fade and turn into a volcanic fury. “How dare you show yourself to me!” He screamed out, and the sound hurt Gilwen’s ears. “You sleeper! You have defiled our family name, and you dared to show your face to me again?”
“Papa—“ She tried to interject, tears beginning to stream down her face.
“Get out of my sight! Go back to your brothel; I am sure that is the only place you are welcome!” Beregar said with a strong motion to the side.
The man turned and began to walk away, and Gilwen immediately burst into quiet sobs. “Papa, wait! Please! I love you, please do not leave me!”
“Starlight?”
“Fael!” The woman wheeled around, and there stood her Horse Master, clad in the familiar garb of his stable work clothes. His hair was mussed, and his face seemed somewhat off. “Fael, he left me here!” She gasped desperately, throwing herself against him and gripping his tunic tightly. Something was wrong, though. His arms did not wrap around her, and instead he gripped her upper arms and slowly peeled her away. More tears threatened to roll down her cheeks, and Gilwen began to tremble. “What is wrong?” She asked quietly.
“You know I love you, don’t you?” Faeldor said.
Gilwen frowned lightly. “Yes, and I love you.”
The man sighed heavily, dropping his arms to his side. His expression seemed sad, though set. Gilwen’s heart began to race, and she waited to see what it was he wished to say; words were clearly forming within him.
“We have tried for a child, Gilwen. It has been a long while,” his voice was slow.
“I am sorry! If we wait a while longer, perhaps—“ She answered quickly, brown eyes frantic and pleading.
“I am tired of waiting, Gilwen.” Faeldor’s words were firm, and immediately the woman stopped short and dropped her mouth open.
“…I shall try harder, Fael. I will bear you a child. I shall try harder!” The words were near shouted between her ample tears for Gilwen’s nerves. Still, Faeldor’s facial expression did not change.
“There will be no more trying,” the man said pointedly. “I have in mind to find a wife that shall be able to do this more easily.”
Gilwen shuddered under her tears. “You—you’re leaving, too?”
“Starlight…I do love you, it is just…I desire to be a father.” Faeldor said in a soft tone, as if he were trying to comfort her. Still, it was hardly working.
“I know what you desire,” Gilwen said fervently. “I need more time, I can give you that, Fael! I can!”
“We have tried enough; Gilwen, you will not be able to have children.” The stable master responded. “I cannot be with a woman who cannot be a mother.” The man turned and began walking down the road himself. Gilwen utterly gasping for air as he retreated.
“Do not leave me! Fael, Fael, please! You said you loved me!” She shrieked, half mad with the grief she felt in her broken heart. Her spirit had utterly shriveled. Her words dropped to an airy whisper. “You both did.”
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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 25, 2010 13:37:01 GMT -5
Miriel had not meant to fall asleep, though by the time she had come back up the stairwell balancing two bowls of applesauce and a fresh pitcher of cool water in hand, Gilwen had already fallen into slumber. The woman took it that she needed rest at any rate, and would be able to eat shortly, and so she sat the bowls and pitcher down on the table, and dropped back into the chair; her legs aching from her trip up the stairs. However, the young mother’s stomach began to groan, and she knew she could not wait longer for her own nourishment. She had barely eaten lunch at all, and she was supposed to be eating for two. With the hunger that this baby often left her it, it was no question that the little thing would certainly inherit the appetite of the rest of her family. Miriel made short work of the cool treat, and sitting her empty bowl down on the table once more, she sat back in the chair.
She felt relaxed. For some time now her heart had not been content, and though it was still far from, at this very moment she felt a slight peace. She had done kindly, she knew, and she could tell from Gilwen’s gentility that the woman was not angered with her nor hated her in the least. It was truly a fine feeling. Miriel relaxed, closing her eyes, and it had not been long until her own nap took her. Up until the very moment that Gilwen’s sleep became troubled. The woman began to awake as she heard the other moving about in bed.
“Gilwen,” Miriel said quietly from her seat as her eyes opened. It was obvious that the other young woman was still napping, though, she appeared unsettled. Perhaps a dream, or perhaps her body was simply fighting that fever still. Yet, it seemed best to wake her. Judging by the lighting in the room, some hours had passed, and she had taken adequate rest for the time being.
“Gilwen, wake up,” Miriel started from her seat, pushing her own body upwards with more effort than was usually required of her slender form. Her feet ached a bit as she gained her balance, but she moved toward the bed. She reached for the young woman. Her cheeks did not feel hot, and Miriel was relieved that she was not with fever. Merely in an unsettled sleep. “You are only dreaming, wake up,” she said again gently as she lightly touched her shoulder.
It was at this moment that the Stablemaster came leisurely into the bedroom. His mother had said that last time she had checked, the girl was napping. Though, she had not mentioned Miriel, for fear that her son would be further upset. And upset he was, to enter his room and see Miriel standing over the woman.
“What is going on in here?” Faeldor asked, trying to keep his voice low, as soon as he entered the room. His words had been sharper than he had anticipated, and Miriel jumped at it. She did not answer her brother, more for the fact that she was still quite drowsy and it had been so quiet before he entered.
The fact that Gilwen was turning in bed and moaning in her sleep did little to comfort Faeldor’s mind. Her sweet face bore a pained expression. He made his way quickly across the room. “You have no right to be in here,” he said pointedly to Miriel. His sister’s jaw dropped open as if to protest, but before she had a chance to say anything his words ripped into her again. “I swear it, I shall not refrain from striking you this time if you do not heed my words. Get out of here, now! Take your hands off her, and let her be for once.”
The way that Faeldor scowled about Miriel was enough to cause the woman to step back quickly. She stumbled against the beside chair and fell into it. Faeldor looked from Gilwen, and then back to Miriel. His sister seemed to be cowering before him in a way she had not before, and he frowned even more. “Did you not hear me?” he asked Miriel, no lilt to his voice. “Get. Out.”
He reached over for his sister and grabbed her shoulders, pulling her not gently back up to standing. “Fael… I was not—“ Miriel started, but her brother cut her off as he began to lead her out the door. Tears started to stream down the young woman’s face once more. “Fael… listen to me…” the young woman pleaded, her voice catching in her throat as she came down with sobs that she could not prevent. The man did not answer, but took his sister all the way to the hallway, and then shut her out. Miriel stood rooted and crying, as if unable to move on her own.
“I am sorry about her, Starlight,” Faeldor said as all anger melted away and he became entirely tender once more as he came to help lift Gilwen into a sitting position, and brush her hair back from her eyes. “Did she hurt you? I would send her out if she were not carrying that poor child. What a wretched mother she is going to be,” he said thoughtfully, his face troubled.
Miriel, who was still crying outside the door, supporting herself on the wall, heard every word that her brother said, and her heart broke. To escape from hearing any more, she took herself back to her room, and cast herself down on her window seat, clutching her stomach and knowing that every word her brother had said was the truth.
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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 25, 2010 18:05:20 GMT -5
“Gilwen, wake up. You are only dreaming, wake up.”
Miriel’s voice was a gentle rousing was enough. The lady’s eyes flashed open, already watering from her foul dream. “No, don’t go!” She called instinctively. As the room came in to focus and Gilwen realized that Faeldor was not walking away, indeed he was not even in the room, she gasped.
Her eyes were wide and deeply troubled. A part of her was relieved that it had been a dream, though the realness of it and the feelings that it had left her with was causing her to tremble and begin to truly cry.
Faeldor entered, and immediately the air of the room changed to something fouler. “Fael!” Gilwen said meekly still unable to shake the shadow of fear and loneliness that the dream had given her.
Oh, but he had not even addressed her! Instead he began to scold Miriel. “Did you not hear me? Get. Out.”“Fael, what are you doing!?” She exclaimed frantically. “Stop! Miriel—“ But she had gone, and the door had shut behind her. The tears that Miriel had been shedding utterly broke Gilwen. She could not stop the flood of tears that started coming from her as Faeldor sat down beside her on the bed and began to brush the hair from her eyes and face.
“I am sorry about her, Starlight. Did she hurt you? I would send her out if she were not carrying that poor child. What a wretched mother she is going to be.”
Gilwen’s teary face quickly turned from such a sad expression, and while the tears still fell from her doe-eyes, her face certainly had contorted into some form of anger. “Sorry? Faeldor! She was doing nothing wrong! What you should be sorry for is sending her out as you did!” For a moment, the woman had to work to catch her breath; she was still not feeling well, after all, and she was exerting too much energy as it was. “She came to sit with me! We-we-we spoke, Faeldor! That is all!”
Her trembling hands swatted his from her cheeks. “You go.” She finally gasped desperately. “You go and sit with her! She…she thinks you hate her,” her voice was sharp, though now a great grief welled up within her. “She loves you; go sit with her, and quit saying such foul things about her!” A wretched mother? Miriel had never held such a look of love in her eyes as when she had been speaking about the baby.
“…It hurts,” Gilwen stammered. “It hurts to be hated by someone you love!” Immediately, the woman was utterly consumed by sobs, and she sank back and into her pillows, the dream she had awoken from seeping back through her mind and flashing in pictures through her eyes. Her father hated her. Faeldor had hated when he had found her barren, and while she could see in his beautiful grey eyes that he did not hate her now, her father truly did. She knew the torment Miriel was feeling.
“Go sit with her,” Gilwen ordered once more, though a bit meeker. “And do not come back until you have worked things out!”
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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 25, 2010 22:23:54 GMT -5
“I should be sorry for sending her out? Are you telling me that you had amiable conversation with my sister? After all she has done to you?” The man’s voice was not raised, though stern. He hardly believed what Gilwen had said. Miriel simply had gone to sit with her? He studied her face for further bruises and and watched her closely. She had tried to hide her injuries from him before; more than once even. Certainly she would do the same again if he allowed the chance. Why did she seem to think that he would believe that Miriel was simply sitting with her?
Faeldor’s mind was irrational at the moment, for if he would have thought plainly, he would have noted that Miriel had done no more than she had the past two weeks that Gilwen had stayed with them. Miriel had in fact sat with her in her fevered state, helped to feed her, restrain her, bathe her, comfort her. Of course, Gilwen would not have remembered that, and Faeldor made certain that his own mind did not remember such a thing. All he could think of now was the incident with the rolling pin. The wine. The lye water. The bruises and scrapes, and everything horrible that his sister had done.
“You go. You go and sit with her! She…she thinks you hate her. She loves you; go sit with her, and quit saying such foul things about her! It hurts to be hated by someone you love!”
Gilwen managed to take her breath and continue on more. Faeldor had never heard her order him in such a commanding way. Her words bit into him. Indeed, she brought it to the front that Miriel indeed loved her brother. Faeldor over the past months had disliked his sister and her actions more and more, and of recent had showed her little of his loving manner.
“She has deserved everything that has come to her,” the man contested. Inwardly, he knew that he did not hate his sister; just the things she had done. But he could not admit it out loud right now, and he frowned. “You cannot compare this to your Father. It is not the same situation.” Faeldor knew Gilwen well enough to guess where her mind had gone with these statements. While he should not have said such a thing to her, it left his lips before he gave it much thought, and he did regret saying it.
The woman’s sobs were too much for Faeldor, and despite having started in anger, it began to fade away as he began to reach for her again, though before he had a chance to touch her, she continued;“Go sit with her. And do not come back until you have worked things out!”
Faeldor frowned, stopping in his tracks, his hands hovering before the woman, but not touching her. He scowled, dropping his palms to his lap and then rising quickly, his anger returning. “I doubt that this can be worked out,” he said pointedly, looking down at Gilwen.
She was sending him out of his own room! However he did not point such a thing out, but it surely gritted on him. He had left work early this evening, even after having missed several days and having much to catch up on, simply because he wished to check on Gilwen and be with her. Now she was sending him away! He glared at the woman for a few moments before continuing.
She would not send him out of his own quarters in such a way. Instead of pacing this time, he made direct route for his closet, ripping his tunic and shirt off as he went and balling them to toss them roughly in the middle of the floor. He raised his legs to loosen his boots, and kicked them into the same pile, along with his dirty stockings. The man did not give another glance to Gilwen even as he tossed his clean shirt he had taken up over the back of a chair and moved to his washbasin to clean his hands and splash water over his face. Finally, he dried his hands and replaced his shirt. After having taken his own sweet time in his own chamber, he raised his eyes back to Gilwen.
Those tears! Those big welling tears, and those deep brown eyes were too much! Not even Haliel’s tears could break his heart in such a way. Faeldor longed to comfort Gilwen and the way her body trembled almost drew him back to the bed; yet, he knew he would not be allowed. His gaze softened just before he left the room, though his nerves did not allow him a quiet exit, and he slammed the door behind him.
He knew he needed to see to Miriel. If she had simply been speaking with Gilwen… well, he should not have been so harsh. He should not have scolded her in front of Gilwen at any rate. That woman was already under enough stress as it was. But would Gilwen even speak to him again if he did not see to Miriel? She had been adamant! It took a full ten minutes of standing in the hall before Faeldor finally got himself the nerve, and entered his sisters room without knocking.
His entrance and shutting the door behind him was all in one motion, or else he would have lost his motivation and turned around. What would Gilwen know if he did not speak with Miriel? He could go sit in the garden for an hour or two and return to Gilwen later and all would be well. Well, only until she asked how it went. He knew he could not lie to Gilwen. He had to speak with her. He did not even know what to say.
Miriel was curled in her window seat, crying still. Her face was turned away. She knew it was her brother who had entered simply by his footsteps and the way he had shut the door behind him, and she knew that she did not even deserve to look upon her brother. He hated her! And she deserved it! The thought made her start to cry more deeply, her shoulders shaking.
Faeldor was quiet for some time. Miriel was not in any state he had seen her in before after she had done an evil deed. There was no smug behavior. He began to doubt that she had truly done what he had accused, and after a few minutes of her sobbing, and him standing oddly in the center of the room, he finally spoke. “What were you doing to her?”
It took Miriel a few moments to compose herself and catch her breath well enough to answer, and even then she did not turn her eyes toward her brother. “I did not do anything. We were just visiting.”
“Visiting…” Faeldor repeated, shrugging the word off. “She looked terrified! And you had her hands upon her when I came in. I told you to never touch her again. This very morning… you have no right…” The man felt his anger rising in him again.
“I did not touch her!” Miriel contested weakly. “I mean… I was touching her. I was waking her though, nothing else. She was having an upsetting dream, and I was merely waking her. I did not mean to fall asleep sitting in there but I was so exhausted and we were only talking… I did not hurt her!”
It was obvious that both siblings were too upset to say much, or to even speak clearly. But the way that Miriel finally turned to her brother and met his eyes was enough to draw Faeldor nearer to comfort his sister. Her bright green eyes were wet and her cheeks flushed. She gripped at her child bearing stomach as if it were the last thing she had to hold onto! The protectiveness of Faeldor could not be let down even by his own emotions, and he knew he had to do something. It was not long before he was sitting beside her on the window seat, and even less time elapsed before the young woman cried against her brother’s chest.
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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 25, 2010 23:08:16 GMT -5
“You cannot compare this to your Father. It is not the same situation.”
The words cut into Gilwen as a sword; she flinched and cowered back into her pillows dropping her eyes to her trembling hands that were now gripping the sheets with a new frenzy. “It is not the same situation, but it is the same pain,” she whispered between her tears.
Faeldor was angry at her. She could tell that immediately by the way his eyes had hardened and his tone had changed. Such a fact brought back the flashes of that dreadful day at the stable where he had sent her away in tears; but this! This was worse. Even that day he had not glared at her so.
Her sobs worsened as he rose and began to move about the room. Every movement he made was sharp, and everything he did without so much as looking at her. She could hardly breathe. Her heart felt shattered, her lungs felt as if they could not work for her gasping tears. Her hands had never shaken so.
She loved him, and it seemed he had forgotten. Gilwen bit her lip roughly, trying to regain her composure, but it was no use. Faeldor’s stern glare was all she could see; it was the same look her father had given her the last time she had seen him. When he had thrown her out into the street to fend for herself, to starve, to be utterly afraid. He had not cared at all; he hated her enough to not care if she had died upon the street.
She chanced looking to Faeldor for a moment. He was still not sparing her a single glance, and he walked out of the room. The door slammed shut behind him, and immediately the woman’s tears worsened. He hated her now, too. He had to. But why? She had merely said such things to settle things between Miriel and he! And now…now he was going to leave her. Her heart shattered and Gilwen let out a strange audible sob and buried her face into her hands.
It was not like her dream. It was worse. He had not even lied to her; he had not said he had loved her before he had gone. Gilwen folded in upon herself, utterly exhausted by her tears and torment, though hardly able to still herself. Her arms wrapped about her, trying desperately to keep herself together. Every gasp sent waves of pain through her, the bruises being utterly assaulted by her emotions. She could not breathe. She felt as if she was going to die.
And for a moment, she wished she had.
--
Her tears had not stopped since Faeldor had slammed the door behind him and vanished. Gilwen’s eyes had run out of water to let fall, but her face was still twisted and red as if they were still streaming down upon her. She felt ill; her stomach was upset more by each heaving gasp, and her shaking had worsened from her fatigue. She was slumped upon the pillows in a way that looked unnatural; she had lost all strength to keep herself sitting upright.
She did not wish to be alone anymore. Beregar had left her, her Horse Master had left her. Gilwen longed for Miriel to return, or someone who would simply sit with her and not hate her. She did not know how much time had passed, though it felt like an eternity.
Minutes had not felt this long since those days Faeldor had left her.
She had not been so shattered in her life.
A deep longing for a mother’s touch and comfort welled up within her. Niniel had sat with her. She had brushed Gilwen’s hair, and held her in a way that only a mother could do. That was what Gilwen wanted. She wanted someone to love her. She wanted her mother.
Another sob wracked her body, though, as the thought came to her that she could very well never see her again. She had not seen her since the day she was sent from her home. And her home was somewhere Gilwen would never be allowed to return to again.
Everyone was gone.
Meleth had taken her into her home and treated her as a daughter. She had called her perfect that morning when she had awoken. She had kissed her forehead in a way that had certainly flowed from her own motherhood. Perhaps, Gilwen thought desperately. Perhaps Meleth would hold her as Niniel had.
The weak lady thrust her covers off and moved herself. It was slow going, for her body seemed to protest every shift of position she made. But her heart was set, and her mind had followed it. She needed someone who wanted to keep her, she needed a gentle touch. Her stomach was upset, her head was pounding from her scarce breath and ample tears. Gilwen just needed to sit with Meleth for a while.
But she had to get there first.
She looked to the door, the sound of the slam echoing in her mind. It was so far away; too far, Gilwen feared, for her to make it out to the hall. No, Gilwen thought to herself. You can try. Slowly she forced herself to her feet. Her balance was horrid and her knees were shaking, but the woman found herself able to keep herself upright. Her desire for a mother was stronger than any illness.
She began to take shaky steps forward, holding out her arms to try and keep her balance better. She simply had to make it to the door. Maybe Meleth would be coming in to check on her. Maybe one of the children would be near enough to get their mother for her. She just needed to make it to the door.
Exhaustion claimed her, though. Upon her fourth little step, the lady had lost all strength. Immediately, she crumpled to the floor, unable to keep herself from falling. Gilwen cried all he harder. It could be hours before anybody found her there. Faeldor surely was not going to be coming back anytime soon, and she did not even know if Meleth would still drop in. Miriel would not come back either, after the way Faeldor had sent her away.
Slowly, she curled up on herself trying to bury and sink into the cold stone floor. Mama…Mama…please still love me. I miss you, and I cannot go to you. But please, please still love me. Nothing had ever hurt worse.
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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 26, 2010 22:09:00 GMT -5
The Stablemaster sat with his sister as afternoon turned to evening, and eventually her tears stilled and she allowed her brother to leave his arms about her while she remembered how well human affection felt, and how much she desired her family to care for her. Words finally came back to them, and while Miriel yet made no apology for the way she had treated Gilwen, Faeldor felt that she was sorry for it. He could not yet grant her forgiveness for that, though, he began to remember how Miriel’s kindness had indeed been shown in the past weeks, and even allowed her to explain herself further of how she had sat with the woman the past afternoon, and how he had come upon them; even of the things that they had said to each other. Soon, the topic turned back to her baby. Faeldor began to regret the words he had said, that she would be a horrible mother, for even as she spoke of her infant growing inside her, she caressed her stomach, and smiled slightly.
“Do you think she will be a girl?” the young woman asked of her brother.
“Well of course I do! What else would she be?” Faeldor asked, a small light coming to his eyes.
As for why Gilwen had not been looked in upon by the others of the household. Well, another miscommunication had taken place, in that both Meleth and Tinuves had thought the other had checked in upon her, and both were also content that Faeldor was likely seated with her as well. Though, Faeldor sat long with his sister, in fact, until the hour that she decided to retire to bed. He stayed long enough to kiss her goodnight, and help her with the ties of her dress before retiring back to his own quarters. Back to Gilwen.
Faeldor sighed, moving to enter the room. Night was drawing upon them, and though it was not completely darkened outside yet, the sky had dimmed considerably and twilight was not far off. It was good that he had hesitated in opening the door; in returning to Gilwen. He hoped she was not too upset with him, and he would have to admit that he had certainly been at fault this time for treating Miriel in the way he had. Oh, but Gilwen had scolded him; even in her weak little state, and she had told him to go!
As the door pushed slowly open, and he stepped in, his eyes were upon the bed, and at first shock and confusion he wondered where Gilwen had gone, before realizing that she was not well enough to go anywhere, and seeing her form on the floor right below him.
The man startled, his heart fluttering as that of a bird at seeing that body curled into itself on the floor near his feet. “Oh, Gilwen,” he started, choking on his own voice. He stooped down on the floor, immediately settling slightly as he saw the woman was still breathing and trembling, her face was streaked with dry tears. “What are you doing? Why are you out of bed?” he asked gently, not waiting for an answer before he scooped that woman up in his arms and slowly stood with her. “You must not try to walk yet, you are not well,” he said, his own voice trembling slightly for the fact that it had been awhile since the man had lifted Gilwen in this way. Her frame was so light that it terrified him.
The man moved to the bed, though instead of placing her down, he merely sat down on the edge and leaned back against the headboard, and pulling Gilwen into his chest. While this was not something he had done since those fitful days when the lady had been out of her mind, it was something that Faeldor had sorely missed.
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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 26, 2010 22:35:37 GMT -5
She had sat there a long time, and while Gilwen struggled to right herself and bring herself back to her feet to finish her trek, she could not even lift herself from the floor. She was unable to even sit up, and such frustration caused her all the more anguish. She wanted her mother, or Meleth. Tinuves, Miriel…anyone. She wished for a woman’s company. She missed her mother terribly, and in the silence of the room, she had certainly lingered on such a thought. Her mother loved her; she was the only one who did now. And Gilwen could not even see her.
For quite some time, the thoughts swirled within her, and the lady felt herself once more folding into herself. She certainly felt more ill than she had that morning, and even that feeling of discomfort set her into a further state of distress.
She could hear her mother’s voice, even as she sat there alone on the stone floor. The tone was warm, loving. The way she had spoken to her as a child.
“There now, Gilwen. I’m right here. You lay back down; it was just a bad dream, sweetheart.”
“Where are you?” She asked audibly, though she was aware no answer was going to come. The door opened, and Gilwen looked up. A part of her was a bit disillusioned by the memories that had flashed through her mind. And the young lady looked up hopefully, “Mama?” She said delicately. No. It was Faeldor. The lady’s face instantly returned to one of pain and sadness, and she sought to cower lower into the ground. “Oh, Gilwen. What are you doing? Why are you out of bed?” The words were gentle, and so were the arms that had swept her up. Gilwen could not recall the last time he had lifted her, and for a moment she wondered at the fact it had seemed easier this time than the last time he had taken her into his arms.
Gilwen looked up to him desolately, her hands still trembling. “I wanted to see Mama. I,,.” She fell back into a fit of tears, scarce traces of water once more flowing from her otherwise lovely eyes.
“You must not try to walk yet, you are not well.”
He sat her down upon the bed, and pulled her against him. The motion both settled and confused the crying woman. He had hated her. He had walked out with such stern eyes. He had slammed the door behind him! He had been gone for hours. The sun was set now, and the night sky was beginning to come into view. Still, the woman was aware that she was in no state to try to make it to her mother again. “I wish to see her,” she said sorrowfully. She slumped against Faeldor’s chest, unable to bear her own weight. “I---“ She stopped. It truly was not her mother she wanted.
“Why does he hate me?” She sobbed gripping Faeldor’s shirt until her knuckles were white and her hands even more shaken than they were. “He threw me out; I could have died, and he did not care!” The lady was uncontrollably weeping. She had never done such a thing as much as she was then. Gilwen loved her father. More than any other talent she possessed, Gilwen’s heart could love. She loved her city, her country, her mother, children, her friends when she had had them. She loved Fael, whether he still loved her or not, and she loved her father. And her heart could not understand how someone who had loved her, hugged and kissed her, tucked her into bed at night and chased away nightmares could of a sudden despise her.
He had meant the world to her, and now it felt as if her world was broken.
“Little one, do not cry. Your Papa is a soldier. If any troll should ever come after my daughter, well. It would not even come close to my pretty little one.”
Beregar had been the best at consoling Gilwen from horrendous dreams. He had even taken his sword to sit by her until she fell asleep, to show her he was truthful about wanting to protect her. But now! Now he had thrown her out. And she had almost died. What happened? How could everything have changed?
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Faeldor
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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 26, 2010 23:08:11 GMT -5
“Gilwen, stop crying, please,” Faeldor mouthed weakly as he let the young woman cuddle against him. He did not know what to do to comfort her, for he did not understand the answer to the question that she had asked. He could not give her comfort on the issue, for his own mind had not stopped wandering in the past two weeks, and wondering how in the world a father could cast out his daughter in such a way. A great dislike for Beregar had boiled in this man’s heart.
Those tears did not stop though, and she continued to weep and press against him as Faeldor sat, aghast at the whole matter. He had just stilled Miriel’s tears, which had taken hours, but how could he handle such heartbreaking looks as those Gilwen was giving him.
“Please,” he said, tightening his hold upon her as she sobbed. “My Starlight, that is enough. You will over extend yourself. Do not cry anymore.“ He did not know what to do but ask her again, and finally he could not take it any longer, and shifted the lady, tilting her head upwards to look at him, and planting his lips upon her mouth. He kissed her gently and for a long while. When he decided that Gilwen had taken more of his kisses than her state would allow her, he moved on from her lips to kiss her tightly drawn cheeks, and her chin, the damp hollow of her neck, and finally her hair. “Do not cry…”
He could not think of what else to do. Faeldor could make no promise to the woman that Beregar would ever accept her as she was again. Nor that her mother would visit her here. He could inquire of it, and now that she had brought the idea to mind, he certainly would, but it was just an idea and did not mean anything of what would actually happen.
In fact, the only thing he could promise Gilwen was that which he had already promised her. “I love you.” He bundled her more tightly into his arms, and then looked down at her again, kissing the tip of her nose. “I want you well again.”
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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 27, 2010 6:28:11 GMT -5
“My Starlight, that is enough. You will over extend yourself. Do not cry anymore.“
“I don’t care!” Gilwen exclaimed, burying herself against him all the tighter. She could not even fathom the idea of being able to stop her tears. How could she not lament and mourn the loss of the greatest father she had known?
Faeldor shifted her and kissed her, and for a while, her voice was stilled and so were her sobs. She was utterly taken aback by the motion. Still, she certainly cherished it and gripped at him all the more. She was breathless, though, and could hardly stand to kiss him any longer. It seemed he was aware, and left her lips in favor of her cheeks, neck and hair.
Her sobs had certainly lessened; it seemed impossible to remain so upset when Faeldor was gifting her such attention and kisses as he was. Each bristled touch was enough to relay that he cared if she overextended herself, whether she did or not.
“I love you. I want you well again.”
The flash of her dream snapped through her and Gilwen once more clung to Faeldor’s tunic pitifully. “…And you shall not leave me?” She asked meekly. “Even if I cannot give you a child?” Her brown eyes were watering, and her body still shook. Still, the look in her eyes was half utter fear; he had walked away so easily in her dream. And all because she could not give him what he wanted.
What she wanted.
Likely it was a strange jump of topics for the stablemaster, but to Gilwen they were well linked and fine. Her dream had rattled her very heart; there was no way that she could have refrained herself from asking. She was unable to control herself at all, she was far too exhausted.
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