Faeldor
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Do we walk in legends or on the green earth in the daylight?[Mo0:1]
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Post by Faeldor on Apr 6, 2009 13:08:34 GMT -5
The woman was relieved to hear from the girl’s own lips that she would not be parted from her son over this matter. She seemed a steadfast girl, and the blush upon her face even as she answered let Meleth know enough that she already cared too much for Faeldor than to leave him. Her face even held a faint smile. Oh! How love can come over a young woman, even within a trial! Meleth almost laughed to herself in joy, but then the door to the bakery opened.
The supervisor came in now to speak to Gilwen. Meleth was thankful that they allowed her the day off work, though she thought that even so, Gilwen looked somewhat downcast from it. One did not allow a day off work without a day off pay, she considered. And to the palace servants, they worked for their pay, and they needed it.
Meleth did not so much need to work; for she would have been suited fine with Faeldor’s income. But she had secured the job for her own enjoyment. She was paid nonetheless, and someday when her son moved on his own, she would always have a place to be. She did not doubt that Faeldor would still care for her and his siblings when he started his own family, but she would need the job more for the sake of her own comfort as her children grew older, for the friends she had made here were well cherished.
"Would you mind if I stayed a while longer?” Meleth smiled, a bit relieved that the girl would wish to stay with her. At least if she would stay until Miriel took her own break and was out of the kitchen, it would be well, and she liked to have her in here. “I would love for you to stay,” she answered, pressing a motherly kiss once more to Gilwen’s forehead to let her know again that she was loved and wanted here. “It was quite a blessing to have company in the morning, and I could not be happier to have more. As long as you do not mind me going about my work while we chat.”
“But firstly, it is about time you put your foot back in that water. Gently now,” she said. “Tell me if it is getting warm and we shall have some more drawn. And secondly, you shall need to eat something; for you would not take what I offered this morning, and now you will be missing your lunch. You’ll need your energy all the more for that ankle to heal up.” Meleth went to the pan where some of the extra rolls that the servants had just taken out for the noon meal were sitting.
“I did get to talking this morning and rolled far too many than the Steward and even all the servants might eat in one setting. I had packed up a basket for your mother to take with her before she left; but, well, she left right quickly, so I’ll have you take them for her.” As Meleth spoke she took a knife and sliced the fresh roll, and then spread each half with creamy butter, putting it all upon a small plate to place near where Gilwen sat at the counter. “Careful though, I am certain your jaw will hurt. And those cinnamon rolls are waiting for you as well, when you’ve finished with that.”
Meleth now started to return to her work, but first she took the rest of the square of butter and wrapped it up also, placing it in the basket with the rolls, and covering the basket again with the cloth. “Does your father like sweet rolls?” she asked quite cheerily, as she also made motions to wrap up three of the leftover rolls from morning to place along with the other goods.
“My own father lives for them, and I do believe Faelon did as well. Faeldor is quite the same; it has passed through both lineages to him. If you come a morning sometime before breakfast I would show you how to make them,” the woman hinted as she finally finished filing the basket so that it was ready for Gilwen to take when she did go. She would be glad to send such to her new friend, Niniel, along with a short note that would invite her to return anytime. She did hope that Miriel’s words would not keep her away from the bakery.
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Gilwen
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There are times when silence has the loudest voice.[Mo0:0]
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Post by Gilwen on Apr 6, 2009 17:13:23 GMT -5
Meleth was over all pleased by Gilwen wishing to stay around, or at least it seemed that way to Gilwen; the woman had kissed her cheek and assured her quite happily it was fine for the girl to rest here. “I will not mind at all,” Gilwen responded politely, smiling a little more. She of all people, understood working. It had, after all, consumed a little over half her life.
Meleth, though, was still a mother; first and foremost, and immediately began to cosset the servant and chatter on just as Faeldor tended to do. It was no mistaking their relation. Her ankle was submerged in the water once more, and all at once Meleth was off to prepare food for her. Gilwen did not have the stomach at the moment to really eat too much, but how rude she would have felt, for the roll was already buttered beside her, and the cinnamon rolls from earlier that morning were quickly offered as well.
Meleth, as she wrapped up a basket of rolls inquired as to whether her father enjoyed sweet rolls. This actually caused Gilwen to blink a moment. She was unsure if Beregar had ever even had them. Her mother cooked and prepared food; but never made anything as expensive as a sweet roll. Breads, and on occasion muffins were all that her mother would provide. She finally decided that it would be best to answer with a yes. Who wouldn’t like Meleth’s baking? “I am sure he will find them lovely.”
It was as if Meleth had predicted her answer, and had continued speaking. What she did speak of was her own family’s love for sweet rolls; with a special emphasis on Faeldor. If Meleth wanted Gilwen to be the perfect wife for her dear son, she would have to teach her to bake such things, so she offered. Gilwen blushed lightly and then smiled a bit.
She would want to be the best wife she possibly could be to him, if and when it came to that. She would be interested in learning how to prepare something he adored. “I would love to come and learn,” she replied.
She finally reached down and nibbled a bit on one of the sides of the buttered bread; more to be polite than anything. Still, it was delicious. She had found no other who could even claim to bake as well as Meleth.
Yes, she would stay here and sit a while. Perhaps she would take her leave when the afternoon breaks would begin---it would be quite an unpleasant experience to run into Miriel as she left to go to the stables. And the walk was going to feel atrocious.
Gilwen could only pray that her ankle healed faster than her cheek.
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Faeldor
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Do we walk in legends or on the green earth in the daylight?[Mo0:1]
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Post by Faeldor on Apr 6, 2009 18:28:47 GMT -5
“Lovely, do then come here any time, dear,” Meleth answered, “I should love to have you visit me more often. Now, I shall put a note in here for your mother, do make sure she finds it,” the woman said, going to the corner of her shelf to take down an old quill and ink bottle, and finding a scrap of parchment among them. It was used very little, and often only in such occasions when sending a note to another.
She looked back over at the girl, who had seemed to blush even at the offer of teaching her how to bake. Meleth smiled at such, “Blushing is the color of virtue, Gilwen,” she stated, smiling even more greatly to herself, and then began to hum as she started to mix together a dough for pie crusts. Meat pies would be served that evening, and she must have her part prepared to send out to the other cooks.
As she worked and hummed, and the quiet girl slowly ate her roll, Meleth considered all the wonderful things that were to come, of which she and Niniel had so lovingly spoken of earlier. She hoped that such was the case, and she glanced to Gilwen off and on. Perhaps brown eyes, yes, those would be lovely, and with the curls of Faeldor’s dark hair. What beautiful children they would have.
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Gilwen
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There are times when silence has the loudest voice.[Mo0:0]
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Post by Gilwen on Apr 6, 2009 19:07:34 GMT -5
"I will make sure she does." Gilwen promised with a small nod and a smile. The color had finally gone from her cheeks, only to reappear with much more color as Meleth spoke to her again. She opened her mouth to respond, but let it fall closed again and opted for silence. After all, if Meleth deemed it a sign of virtue, it was not a bad thing; especially with the rumors that her daughter was bound to spread.
---
Gilwen didn't know exactly how long she had sat with Meleth that afternoon; it seemed to go by quite quickly. There didn't seem to be a lull in Meleth's conversation, and it kept Gilwen's mind busy. It had certainly gotten to the point of breaks for the kitchen staff though, by the time Gilwen had finally stood, testing lightly her ankle before turning to Meleth. "Meleth, thank you so much for everything." She had told her, as the basket of breads were shoved in her arms. "I shall certainly come by soon so you can teach me to bake properly."
Much to Gilwen's relief, she had been able to escape the kitchens with no foul run-ins with Miriel. She had timed it just right, it seemed. Though, she had timed it just right for her slow pace through the stables to bring her horrid words from others. She had passed two crouched servant girls as they were cleaning. "Caught in the servant closet? Oh that is positively disgusting," one had said loud enough that it had caught Gilwen's ear as she had passed.
"Yes! The servant's quarter! And with the stable master, no less! I had thought all this time he was a decent man." Had been the second's reply. Instinctively, Gilwen tried to hurry away, though she had caught a few more lines of their hushed speaking before her slowed pace brought her out of earshot.
It had taken her quite a time to reach the stables, though that was where she stood now. Securely and safely in Lumiel's stall. No gossiping women, no more harsh words. Just a stormy mare and a comforting warmth. Gilwen had been there for the remainder of the afternoon, caught in her thoughts on the matters of the morning. It seemed such a dangerous thing for her to do; think about things. It immediately had disheartened her; and for a good while, in the privacy of Lumiel's stall, she had cried into the mare's soft mane and soaked in her warmth and affections. Lumiel would not treat her like a harlot; and it eventually calmed the girl's tears.
She was certain a stable hand had seen and heard her as she cuddled pitifully with the grey horse; though he had been kind enough to let her be and not inquire as to why she was there, or ask her why she was so upset. She had been left alone to find comfort in Lumiel, and Thissel, who had let Gilwen stroke her neck a few moments before losing interest.
It would be about time for her to have been leaving work, if Gilwen had not been released. That meant that Faeldor was to return soon. Gilwen bit her lip and touched her cheek, and then looked to Lumiel. "It must look pretty horrid." She murmured to the horse. It certainly hurt to touch it. She sighed again, and hugged the horse's neck to keep herself from crying once more. Faeldor was sure to be upset.
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Faeldor
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Do we walk in legends or on the green earth in the daylight?[Mo0:1]
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Post by Faeldor on Apr 6, 2009 19:29:17 GMT -5
For Faeldor, the afternoon had been quite superb. After his time spent with lovely Gilwen, and upon leaving the palace, he had set out to the lower tiers, to consult with breeders and trainers, and to select the finest horses from the trainer’s stables, which would be in just a few days time within his own stable, and beginning their time in the Steward’s Calvary. Ten horses had been selected; all of exceeding breed, quality, and temperament, and he would be glad to see them here, and see to their training. Now, he took his time walking back to the sixth tier, where he would see to it that the horses were set for the evening once the men returned from training, and see that the night stablemen came in for their positions. Tonight he would sleep in the stables, though he didn’t mind, as he would enjoy a break from his home, and the chance to avoid his sister for the rest of the day. He had not even seen her but briefly in the morning as he walked her and his mother to work; but they had not spoken to one another. And his lovely Gilwen, he wondered if she had finished her working yet. She was probably tired after her long day, and still from the previous night, when she had been out rather late. He hoped that she had not spent the afternoon worrying on their mother’s, and he smiled to himself again on the fact. At least their mothers had found friendship in one another, and might become very good friends. That would make him glad. Faeldor still had yet to greet Gilwen’s father, but if he were any as charming as her mother, it would be well indeed. The man came to the stables, and first stopped to see to his own quarters, if there had been any messages left from the afternoon. None were there, which was good news, and he continued on to walk leisurely through the long row of stalls to see that everything was in order. It was not long before he made his way past his own horses stalls; first Thissel, and then Lumiel, and he was ever so surprised to see the thin figure within the stall with his horse. Of course he knew who she was, but he had not thought she would have made it down so early. He was glad though, for it only meant that he might enjoy more time with the lady. Her back was turned to him, and so he simply went to lean against the manger of the stall and began to sing to her in greeting; "Will there be starlight tonight while she gathers damask and lilac and sweet-scented heathers?
And will she find flowers, or will she find thorns guarding the petals of roses unborn?
Will there be starlight tonight while she gathers seashells and mussels and albatross feathers?
And will she find treasure or will she find pain at the end of this rainbow of moonlight on rain?"
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Gilwen
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There are times when silence has the loudest voice.[Mo0:0]
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Post by Gilwen on Apr 6, 2009 19:54:25 GMT -5
She had had the mind to turn around the minute he began to sing to her, though knew that if she did he would have stopped upon seeing her dark bruise. Instead, Gilwen continued to play with Lumiel's mane, until Faeldor had finished. She sighed, as if trying to gather the nerve to face him. She did not want to upset him; not when he had come to her in song. He must have had quite a contented afternoon. Still, if she did not turn to him, he would think her mad at him again; and she would not let that happen.
"And will she find treasure or will she find pain at the end of this rainbow of moonlight on rain?"
A pause. "Welcome back," she called to him, finally dropping her arm from its even stroking of Lumiel's neck to wring her hands in front of her stomach a moment. She would have to face him eventually. In truth, she didn't know how bad her cheek had become---she had not looked at it at all since she had been slapped so. Meleth's words were enough to keep her from caring. “This one will last longer than the last, I am certain.”
She finally turned, though carefully to avoid putting pressure on her injured ankle. Oh, she was quite a mess. Faeldor was leaning across the manger, smiling at her; though she did not keep eye contact long enough to see his expression change. She closed her eyes and averted her eyes to the corner of the stall, wringing her hands together fiercely to keep control of her nerves.
He had looked so happy! She wanted him to be stay that way, and not worry over her appearance. She caught herself there a moment, and remembered how Faeldor hated when she averted her eyes. With a quick breath, she turned her eyes back to his biting her lip slightly. "How did picking the horses come along?" She asked lightly, as if she were ignoring the visual display she presented.
She was thankful her ankle was hidden beneath her skirts. She had chanced a look at that earlier. A nasty blue, purple, and yellow color it bore; that spread part of the way down her foot, and inched up a little higher on her leg. Though, it would not have surprised Gilwen in the least if her cheek had colors to match. Miriel had been in quite a fit when she struck her.
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Faeldor
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Do we walk in legends or on the green earth in the daylight?[Mo0:1]
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Post by Faeldor on Apr 6, 2009 21:11:14 GMT -5
Faeldor had enjoyed his song, and also enjoyed himself as he watched Gilwen playing with the horses mane, simply listening to him. He had to do all that he could to restrain himself from entering the stall and drawing the woman into his arms; such was his joy to see her. But first he wished to sing to her. He finished his song, and waited for her to turn to him, but she didn’t, and that was when he knew that something was wrong.
He was about to speak, when the woman finally turned toward him and he was taken aback. His joyful expression fell. Her lovely face was bruised from jaw to cheek, and though her voice was light, she was sullen.
"How did picking the horses come along?"
Was she really asking him that? “It went well,” he answered shortly. “Gilwen, do come here, let us go to my quarters, and we might talk in private,” he said quietly, resisting the urge raise his voice in surprise or cause a scene that might draw attention. He steadied himself. “Sweet one…” he started again more softly, but then simply stopped. He knew who had given her that bruise already, yet he could not find the reason why. He moved around to pull open the stall door and draw her to him.
He felt an anger begin to burn within him, as he had felt the night before. Though with the physical injury to his dear one must also have come verbal, if he knew his sister at all. It was good that they were at the stables, for if he had been near his sister, he did not know what he might have done. Was not once enough? Would she never stop? He took a breath, trying to look softly upon Gilwen.
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Gilwen
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There are times when silence has the loudest voice.[Mo0:0]
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Post by Gilwen on Apr 6, 2009 21:33:27 GMT -5
It must have looked horrible; though Faeldor did good in keeping his voice calm and even. Still, he asked Gilwen to go to him and Gilwen wanted to refuse right away. To stand her ground right there by Lumiel would hide her poor ankle; though to refuse would be disrespectful to him. And greatly so.
"Sweet one..." "I am glad it went well," she replied slightly less lightly. He opened the stall door, and Gilwen knew she could wait on longer in moving toward him. He was angry, though Gilwen knew that he was not angry at her. Taking a shaky breath she obeyed his direction at last, trying to mask the limp as best as she could.
She reached him, though said nothing at all in the way of words. She knew that her physical appearance would say enough that she wouldn't have to worry about making a single sound. Still, Meleth had comforted her plenty this afternoon, and she didn't want to ruin Faeldor's pleasant day with something like this. "It doesn't hurt terribly," she offered trying to comfort him over both her cheek and now her ankle.
It was not too much of a stretch. For really, her cheek only hurt when it was touched, and her ankle was fine when she stood stock still and made no move or shift of weight to disturb it. Still, to make sure Faeldor did not grow too distraught, Gilwen would stretch it however she could to ease his mind. She smiled up at him slightly, finally letting the smile leave to be replaced with her chewing her bottom lip once more.
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Faeldor
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Do we walk in legends or on the green earth in the daylight?[Mo0:1]
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Post by Faeldor on Apr 6, 2009 21:48:02 GMT -5
Gilwen may have tried to mask her limp, but Faeldor immediately noticed the difference in her gait and the ways she favored one leg over the other. He took her arm gently to help her along, so that she might not need to bear weight on her injured leg. He did not know where else she might be hurt though, so he was careful to not touch her otherwise, in case he may hurt the woman.
His heart was torn at the sight; surely Miriel had done this to her! Why must his sister be so incredibly incorrigible. "It doesn't hurt terribly." It seemed that she tried to comfort him with her words, but his day had already been ruined, there was nothing to take it back now. He did not blame sweet Gilwen though. She tried to smile at him; it did not lighten his mood.
The man walked slowly and carefully with the woman, all the way to the stable master’s quarters on the far end of the stable. He said no words, and silently opened the door. Faeldor had never taken her within this room before; it was nothing exciting; simply a bed, and a desk and chair. Some papers were strewn over the desk, though in an organized fashion, and a bottle of ink and quill sat upon it. There was a wooden stool in the far corner, and some hooks where hung a woolen cloak, with riding boots on the floor beneath. The bed was made quite freshly, and there were extra blankets upon one end and pillows upon the other, and he took Gilwen right to it, sitting her down upon it.
Then the man kneeled down upon the floor and began to remove the lady’s shoes, first from the foot which was well, and second the injured. His hands were careful and gentle as he went, and he did not speak even once; he simply continued in silence; holding his nerves within.
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Gilwen
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There are times when silence has the loudest voice.[Mo0:0]
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Post by Gilwen on Apr 6, 2009 22:07:06 GMT -5
Faeldor was so silent. As they moved to his small room Gilwen felt as if she could feel his tension rolling from his body in waves. It made her uneasy; the normally talkative man had not uttered a single word to her since he had seen her walk toward him, and he barely had even touched her. The servant nervously followed behind the man anyway; he would do no harm to her in the least. She merely had hoped she would see his smile, not his nerves pulled and strained so.
They got to the stable master's private quarters, it was a small room; one that Gilwen had never seen before. Still it looked warm, and friendly enough. She recognized he stool that the stable boy had brought out to her the first time she had run-in with Miriel. It seemed that little stool would be the bearer of worlds of bad memories. Though, it brought with them a world of good ones, too. He set her down on the bed, and kneeled on the ground before her and began to remove her shoes. Gilwen closed her eyes in dread. If he saw her ankle he would surely not remain silent much longer!
The first shoe was removed from her small foot without opposition, though as he reached tenderly for the other, she reached for his chin and delicately touched him and raised his eye to hers. "Faeldor, please. It's not that bad; your mother took care of it already." They were words spoken softly, and for the first time in the day, she felt as if she must care for Meleth's son in the way she had promised her she would. She did smile at him again, trying more than anything to keep his eyes from seeing the horrible mass of color that had encircled her ankle from Miriel's boot. She slowly recoiled her hand, caressing his jaw slightly before her touch had vanished completely.
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Faeldor
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Do we walk in legends or on the green earth in the daylight?[Mo0:1]
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Post by Faeldor on Apr 6, 2009 22:29:40 GMT -5
Faeldor’s gaze was distracted from the stocking of which he was about to remove by the hand upon his chin. For the first time, it was she who forced his eyes back to her, and she spoke softly. The grave man could not remove his eyes from her while she still touched him in such a way, and he had all the urge to kiss her. Before she had removed her hand from him completely, he grasped her wrist and kissed her palm lightly.
“Your hands feel ever so soft upon me, my Gilwen,” was all he said, before finally moving back to remove the coverings which hid the injury from him. He was glad that she had gone to his mother, and that his mother had helped her so, but she could not hide from him that of which his sister had inflicted. He needed to know.
He had not expected such, when he dropped the stocking upon her shoes and looked down at her colored and delicate ankle. It was dark purple and blue, and yellow, extending down to her foot, and up the side of her leg slightly. It were as if the bruise encircled her, and he delicately slid her skirt up just slightly over her calf to see how far it extended. He dared not touch it; the ankle was swollen still, though not so much as it had been earlier. Still, the man said nothing, and he gently removed her other stocking, and then stood, going back to shut the door to the room that none might disturb them.
Faeldor made his way back to the bed in just a few strides, and sat down lightly next to Gilwen, then leaned to remove his own boots quickly before sliding back upon the bed and resting his shoulders against the wall. He looked out the window for just a moment, and then to Gilwen, “Will you sit on my lap, sweet one? As you did last night.” His voice was still even and gentle for her.
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Gilwen
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There are times when silence has the loudest voice.[Mo0:0]
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Post by Gilwen on Apr 6, 2009 22:55:46 GMT -5
The motions she had made with her hands had been enough to distract Faeldor for a moment from his quest to see the damage on her foot. It had set her slightly at ease when he did look into her eyes and kissed her palm softly. He spoke of her hands, and then the comfort that Gilwen felt had vanished. He turned his mind back to her stocking and she began to protest once more.
"Faeldor--" it was too late. Her stocking was off and she looked away from his face pressing her lips together in a tight line. It looked even worse than what she remembered it; the yellow had become much stronger of a color, and the deep purples seemed darker. She could feel his hands working with her skirts to give him a better view of it; and still he did not speak.
After a moment she felt his hands leave her leg and pull off the stocking of her other, and then the man stood to close the door. Gilwen finally watched him once more as he sat down beside her, and pulled off his own boots so he could lean against the wall without dirtying his blankets.
“Will you sit on my lap, sweet one? As you did last night.” The first words that had broken that awful silence. Gilwen nodded gently and smiled slightly. Gingerly she made her way across the the bed toward him, taking a moment to study his face. He was surely upset---still his voice was quite gentle.
She finally found herself properly in his lap, keeping great mind of her own ankle as she positioned herself there. She did not lean against his chest right away though, she still felt the weight of her promise to Meleth on her. Taking her hand she softly caressed his cheek, and began to speak, "It will heal soon enough." Her voice was gentle, and as composed as she could keep it, finally drawing her hand away and tucking her head against his shoulder. "It is not nearly as horrible as it looks, either." His silence was going to break her!
Perhaps if she changed the subject? "Did you find all ten horses for the calvary, then?" It was futile, she was sure. Still, she would not simply sit there at that moment in silence. It would bring far too many thoughts into her head and remind her of the horrid rumor that was currently working its way through the entire palace, of the wretched words her mother had surely told her father about, of having to go home and face them once more as a complete mess, with no pay for the ending of her day.
No, she needed him to speak and fill the silence. With anything. She was desperate. If it stayed so deadly quiet, she was sure to cry once more; and she would not want Faeldor to see her cry twice in the less than a days time.
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Faeldor
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Do we walk in legends or on the green earth in the daylight?[Mo0:1]
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Post by Faeldor on Apr 6, 2009 23:20:53 GMT -5
Perhaps, Faeldor had thought, that the little lady sitting upon his lap would comfort him. She was certainly trying well to sedate his mood, for hand was again upon him, and the way she caressed his cheek made him wish to close his eyes to savor such a touch. And even for a moment he did, but then he opened them again, looking softly upon her. The steady warmth upon his lap was comforting, and kept him at ease to put his other arms about her protectively.
"It will heal soon enough."
The healing of her skin would not take back the fact that the hurt had been there in the first place. Skin would heal, yes, but the fact that wounds had been inflicted upon sweet Gilwen was far too much for Faeldor. She had done nothing to deserve such. She lay her head upon his shoulder, and his arm found its way around her small frame.
“Yes, I found all ten,” Faeldor answered aside, then paused for some moments. “Perhaps it is much to ask, but I wish to know how and why this happened to you though, Gilwen, please do me the justice of telling me.” Faeldor could not speak right now on matters such as horses and business. The talkative man was not at ease still, yet he wished to hear Gilwen speak to him instead.
He looked back to her cheek, and then to her ankle, reaching slightly to touch the skin of her healthy ankle. He marveled at the delicate nature of it, and frowned that she was in pain. He could barely glance at the bruised skin of the other, for it must feel horrendous.
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Gilwen
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There are times when silence has the loudest voice.[Mo0:0]
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Post by Gilwen on Apr 6, 2009 23:40:46 GMT -5
It seemed for the expanse of five little words that perhaps Gilwen's prodding would bring about words; though that idea was short lived indeed. In fact, the only thing worse that he could have possibly done aside from stay silent was speak the words that had followed. Asking such a question surely meant Gilwen would lose her self control. "Gilwen, please do me the justice of telling me.” And he had made it so that if she did not answer his question, or tried to evade it she would be rude.
There was a moment of silence, as Gilwen pondered where to begin. "You know part of it, I am sure." The words came slowly, and it was punctuated with a shaky breath as she raised her eyes to glance at him. "The three women from this morning. They---" her eyes were beginning to sting, and she tucked her head back to his shoulder so he wouldn't see her tears. "They must have said something in the kitchen, and it---Miriel heard." Her voice broke a bit on the word something as it fought to stay calm against her now whirring emotions.
She paused a moment to take another calming breath and nuzzled against him more, to bring herself comfort enough to continue. His arms about her were perhaps the only thing that was making her speak this much. "I don't know what happened," she continued breathlessly. "Mama was coming out of the kitchen. She warned me to be careful; I got in and the next thing I knew--" she stopped talking, as a few silent tears rolled down her bruised cheek.
"She was so angry." And now she was at the part of the story that broke the rest of her strong facade down. "A rumor has started to spread. That I have disgraced my honor, and the honor..." her voice trailed off here as she looked to him once more. "The honor of the stable master." Gilwen finished, more tears coming. She was not sobbing, not yet.
She felt it in her though, and almost immediately her thoughts turned to her father, and to her mother who would certainly feel the ramifications of the rootless accusations as much as she and Faeldor would. Oh, Faeldor. He didn't deserve such a stigma against his name.
That was it; she broke down beginning to shake and sob once more. She buried her head against his shoulder in a way that seemed almost pitiful. By doing the stable master justice, she had broken her calm and strong front. Now, once more, she was weeping in Faeldor's arms; utterly ashamed that she had been so beaten and broken by simple words and actions that had left only temporary wounds.
"It will be all the talk of the palace tomorrow," she muttered between breaths of air and silent cries. And Gilwen had a feeling it would not simply stop there.
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Faeldor
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Do we walk in legends or on the green earth in the daylight?[Mo0:1]
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Post by Faeldor on Apr 7, 2009 0:18:52 GMT -5
The man listened well to the acts that had transpired throughout the afternoon, and his heart dropped that he had been enjoying himself so pleasantly, while dear Gilwen was in such turmoil. He began to softly caress her back while she spoke, but it seemed to no avail, for her own bitter tears began to flow from pretty eyes, and it was now the second time he had seen her cry in less than a day.
“You… have not disgraced me, Gilwen,” Faeldor said slowly and softly. “I do love you so, and I am sorry to have caused you such pain.” The last part he added quietly. He had as much as admitted such the night before, but had not directly told her of his love. Oh, but she should hear it! She did need to. He needed to hear himself tell the woman such.
“A rumor, sweet one, a rumor. It is not the truth, and do not make it the truth in your own mind,” he said. “We will send it off, and deny it, for we know we have done nothing to disgrace our honor. I know that you are not a harlot as Miriel calls you, and I will not stand for those in the palace to call you as such,” the man said quite harshly. He took a deep breath, and softened his grip on Gilwen. “I should have restrained myself from embracing you there. I did not think it would cause such harm.”
The man frowned, “Oh, that woman does deserve the back of my hand against her face. What shame that I must stay here this evening, for if I were to return home, she would surely feel it. I would not even call her my own sister.” His words were spoke through anger, though they were not entirely untrue. Faeldor could never disown his own family, but Miriel had gone too far to do such; to dishonor Gilwen’s name, and his own. It would surely affect both families. Gilwen’s moreso, because she was a woman, but Miriel was striking her own family with this as well.
One more the man’s countenance became soft as he calmed himself, the strength of his arms loosing their crushing hold on the lady. “She will not take away my love for you,” he told the woman gently. “You are my Starlight, and you will be my Starlight.”
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