Post by Faeldor on Jan 19, 2013 2:33:45 GMT -5
“Your family decorates? I have never known anyone who decorates before!”
“Yes, Mama always did with her family when she was a child, and when we lived in Belfalas it was much easier to get the greens. They do sell them at the markets this coming time of year, but it is much more fun to ride to the forests ourselves and gather them. Perhaps this year... we might buy some at the markets. Maybe Faeldor would like the ride and to go alone though, perhaps. I don't know. Maybe we can send Mama with him. She would like that, I think.”
“No, Fael still thinks he cannot trust her. Sometimes, I think he does not remember how alike he and Beleth are—he skipped more proper courting rights than Calon has! Fael shall be unhappy. But, I do think it shall serve him right!”
Miriel flushed slightly as Gilwen spoke, though she knew it was too dimly lit in the room to notice. Faeldor may have skipped proper courting rights, but most of it was for good reason. She and Durion had seen to it that Beregar hated him. It had not been long since they had started seeing each other when Durion arranged for the man to lose his work, and to have visitors show up on his doorstep with would be 'payments'.
And though Faeldor had evaded proper courting, he had still been honorable. Miriel had done none of the such. No proper courting. Just whorishness. “I suppose... Calon is the best man of all,” she stated quietly. “It is true they are very alike... but I begin to see where Beleth has had more sense than he has in the matter. She was at least tactful... to ask permissions, and have Calon speak with Faeldor. In all rights, Calon need not have reported to Faeldor, for he is a brother and not a father after all... he could have gone to Mother first. Mother would have never denied him. But I think he knew that Faeldor wished to have the control over our sister.”
“He shall certainly be unhappy, but he has no right. Beleth is the happiest of us all... she has always given me so much happiness anyway, even when I was terrible to her. I have not been very kind to her in these past years, yet she has still never snapped at me. I think that she deserves Calon. A wild man to satisfy her impulses and make her happy. When first I met him, he came to fetch her for an outing, and Beleth was tearing through the house with the children chasing her, screaming, and leaping about. Calling herself a dragon. My sister was terribly behaved, with no pretense, and that man simply played along. I thought for certain he would walk away from that madness, but I do not think my sister has ever thought to hold a pretense with people. If they have not accepted her for herself, she has simply let them be, and she has always done as she wills... like with the whiskers.” Miriel smiled.
“How old was he then? He must have been so embarrassed—he is so careful to look strong at work!”
“I dare say... it was only a few years ago. I don't remember rightly, but I'm sure he would remember the exact day,” Miriel thought aloud.
“He refuses to bring her home. Maybe we should.. find some ink. Just for Beleth!”
“No need to search, we shall use his own!” Miriel exclaimed, delightedly girlish. “Beleth would be happy to know what we are doing for her. She would be ever so pleased.” Miriel took her candle from the window ledge and moved quickly across the room to Faeldor's desk. It was a bit disorganized, but the ink was there upon the top... and what would she use to draw. A quill was surely too sharp but... ah...
She took the ink back to the bed and handed the small bottle to Gilwen, then leaning down with her candle she surveyed the pillow beneath Faeldor's head, and plucked out a loose feather. “This little feather should do the trick.” She took the glass cork from the bottle, and could not resist to dip the feather and make the first dab... a startlingly black tip to Faeldor's nose.
“Do you wish to add to it?” Miriel gleamed, replacing the candle on the table, and taking the bottle from Gilwen that she might hand her the feather and allow her to make the whiskers.
“Miriel, are you in here?” Meleth almost purred from the doorway.
“Yes, Mama,” Miriel answered quietly. “We were just...” she looked to her mother. Meleth was supporting herself lightly upon the doorframe, her face docile and cool. “We are just putting Fael to bed. Mama, you certainly gave him strong drink. I've never seen him sleep so heavily, save the few times he has overindulged at the tavern.”
“I know,” Meleth answered happily. “I had some as well. It is nice to relax,” she added.
“I see that you are relaxing,” was all Miriel managed, without giggling. “Oughtn't you off to bed now, Mama? I think you are tired,” she suggested.
“Oh, but what are you doing?” Meleth exclaimed, more loudly than Miriel would have enjoyed.
“We were just... Art?”
Meleth doubled over herself, laughing. “Do you remember the time Beleth drew upon him the whiskers... and....”
“Yes, Mama, I was just telling Gilwen. She thought... that we should remind him of his sister, since he has sent her away. He should be missing her antics by now.”
“Let me, let me,” Meleth cheered, staggering lightly into the room, and catching herself on the bed as she sat down. She did not wait for the feather, but dipped her finger straight into the ink, and attempted to draw a whisker upon her son's slumbering face. It turned more into a squiggled line, that rose from his nose, to near to his forehead, but then the woman laughed, and hiccuped, sitting back on the bed. “There now, that's enough for me,” she laughed.
“Mama,” Miriel said, uneasily, though smiling, and glancing to Gilwen. “I think you are ready for bed. Shall I help you?”
“Oh, that will be fine, dear,” the woman answered. “Come here and kiss your mother goodnight as you did when you were a little girl.”
Miriel leaned over to give her mother a kiss, and Meleth closed her eyes. “I don't think I can move,” she added drowsily.
“Well I can't carry you, Mama. Come on now, let's get you to bed. Stand up,” the girl instructed, but Meleth had leaned over to kiss her son goodnight, and from there, she fell asleep, her head upon Faeldor's chest.
“We may as well let her sleep, I suppose...” Miriel mused lightly. “Neither of us can carry her to bed, at any rate. Hm... his whiskers look nice. And I'm afraid Mama will have the evidence upon her finger. Perhaps we should not claim to know what happened,” she grinned. “Fael wouldn't dare retaliate against his own Mother.”
“You might come sleep in Beleth's bed. She would certainly give you the honor after such a favor you have done for her. And Mama shall give you no room to sleep anyhow. It is good for them. She does not get to hug Faeldor enough, I suppose, and will enjoy to sleep with her baby again. I only hope I am awake by the time they wake, so I may at least hear the reaction.”
Miriel sat the ink down again on table beside them, lifted her candle, and moved around the bed to help Gilwen to her feet and take her to her own bedroom. Perhaps... spending time with Gilwen as a sister would not be so difficult after all.
“Yes, Mama always did with her family when she was a child, and when we lived in Belfalas it was much easier to get the greens. They do sell them at the markets this coming time of year, but it is much more fun to ride to the forests ourselves and gather them. Perhaps this year... we might buy some at the markets. Maybe Faeldor would like the ride and to go alone though, perhaps. I don't know. Maybe we can send Mama with him. She would like that, I think.”
“No, Fael still thinks he cannot trust her. Sometimes, I think he does not remember how alike he and Beleth are—he skipped more proper courting rights than Calon has! Fael shall be unhappy. But, I do think it shall serve him right!”
Miriel flushed slightly as Gilwen spoke, though she knew it was too dimly lit in the room to notice. Faeldor may have skipped proper courting rights, but most of it was for good reason. She and Durion had seen to it that Beregar hated him. It had not been long since they had started seeing each other when Durion arranged for the man to lose his work, and to have visitors show up on his doorstep with would be 'payments'.
And though Faeldor had evaded proper courting, he had still been honorable. Miriel had done none of the such. No proper courting. Just whorishness. “I suppose... Calon is the best man of all,” she stated quietly. “It is true they are very alike... but I begin to see where Beleth has had more sense than he has in the matter. She was at least tactful... to ask permissions, and have Calon speak with Faeldor. In all rights, Calon need not have reported to Faeldor, for he is a brother and not a father after all... he could have gone to Mother first. Mother would have never denied him. But I think he knew that Faeldor wished to have the control over our sister.”
“He shall certainly be unhappy, but he has no right. Beleth is the happiest of us all... she has always given me so much happiness anyway, even when I was terrible to her. I have not been very kind to her in these past years, yet she has still never snapped at me. I think that she deserves Calon. A wild man to satisfy her impulses and make her happy. When first I met him, he came to fetch her for an outing, and Beleth was tearing through the house with the children chasing her, screaming, and leaping about. Calling herself a dragon. My sister was terribly behaved, with no pretense, and that man simply played along. I thought for certain he would walk away from that madness, but I do not think my sister has ever thought to hold a pretense with people. If they have not accepted her for herself, she has simply let them be, and she has always done as she wills... like with the whiskers.” Miriel smiled.
“How old was he then? He must have been so embarrassed—he is so careful to look strong at work!”
“I dare say... it was only a few years ago. I don't remember rightly, but I'm sure he would remember the exact day,” Miriel thought aloud.
“He refuses to bring her home. Maybe we should.. find some ink. Just for Beleth!”
“No need to search, we shall use his own!” Miriel exclaimed, delightedly girlish. “Beleth would be happy to know what we are doing for her. She would be ever so pleased.” Miriel took her candle from the window ledge and moved quickly across the room to Faeldor's desk. It was a bit disorganized, but the ink was there upon the top... and what would she use to draw. A quill was surely too sharp but... ah...
She took the ink back to the bed and handed the small bottle to Gilwen, then leaning down with her candle she surveyed the pillow beneath Faeldor's head, and plucked out a loose feather. “This little feather should do the trick.” She took the glass cork from the bottle, and could not resist to dip the feather and make the first dab... a startlingly black tip to Faeldor's nose.
“Do you wish to add to it?” Miriel gleamed, replacing the candle on the table, and taking the bottle from Gilwen that she might hand her the feather and allow her to make the whiskers.
“Miriel, are you in here?” Meleth almost purred from the doorway.
“Yes, Mama,” Miriel answered quietly. “We were just...” she looked to her mother. Meleth was supporting herself lightly upon the doorframe, her face docile and cool. “We are just putting Fael to bed. Mama, you certainly gave him strong drink. I've never seen him sleep so heavily, save the few times he has overindulged at the tavern.”
“I know,” Meleth answered happily. “I had some as well. It is nice to relax,” she added.
“I see that you are relaxing,” was all Miriel managed, without giggling. “Oughtn't you off to bed now, Mama? I think you are tired,” she suggested.
“Oh, but what are you doing?” Meleth exclaimed, more loudly than Miriel would have enjoyed.
“We were just... Art?”
Meleth doubled over herself, laughing. “Do you remember the time Beleth drew upon him the whiskers... and....”
“Yes, Mama, I was just telling Gilwen. She thought... that we should remind him of his sister, since he has sent her away. He should be missing her antics by now.”
“Let me, let me,” Meleth cheered, staggering lightly into the room, and catching herself on the bed as she sat down. She did not wait for the feather, but dipped her finger straight into the ink, and attempted to draw a whisker upon her son's slumbering face. It turned more into a squiggled line, that rose from his nose, to near to his forehead, but then the woman laughed, and hiccuped, sitting back on the bed. “There now, that's enough for me,” she laughed.
“Mama,” Miriel said, uneasily, though smiling, and glancing to Gilwen. “I think you are ready for bed. Shall I help you?”
“Oh, that will be fine, dear,” the woman answered. “Come here and kiss your mother goodnight as you did when you were a little girl.”
Miriel leaned over to give her mother a kiss, and Meleth closed her eyes. “I don't think I can move,” she added drowsily.
“Well I can't carry you, Mama. Come on now, let's get you to bed. Stand up,” the girl instructed, but Meleth had leaned over to kiss her son goodnight, and from there, she fell asleep, her head upon Faeldor's chest.
“We may as well let her sleep, I suppose...” Miriel mused lightly. “Neither of us can carry her to bed, at any rate. Hm... his whiskers look nice. And I'm afraid Mama will have the evidence upon her finger. Perhaps we should not claim to know what happened,” she grinned. “Fael wouldn't dare retaliate against his own Mother.”
“You might come sleep in Beleth's bed. She would certainly give you the honor after such a favor you have done for her. And Mama shall give you no room to sleep anyhow. It is good for them. She does not get to hug Faeldor enough, I suppose, and will enjoy to sleep with her baby again. I only hope I am awake by the time they wake, so I may at least hear the reaction.”
Miriel sat the ink down again on table beside them, lifted her candle, and moved around the bed to help Gilwen to her feet and take her to her own bedroom. Perhaps... spending time with Gilwen as a sister would not be so difficult after all.
