A Swift Kick [Gilwen]

[Gilwen]

Instantly the man's face twisted in what looked to be pain, though Gilwen was still too frenzied to really understand what she had done. The small action of hers seemed to bring about his senses; as much as a drunken mind could be cleared, least ways. He seemed to study her, to study the entire situation.

And then he seemed as if he were closer to the Faeldor she had been in the company of the evening before. As he had started speaking, she had gingerly reached for his arm. It was time to take him home, and let him rest. Surely he would have a hard enough time rousing himself in the morning as it was.

"I am sorry, sweet Gilwen. Forgive me, please, do forgive me… I will not love you in such a way until we are married.” Once more, he mentioned marriage. Still, his tone was so much softer and more gentle that perhaps Gilwen believed him for a moment this time. He seemed to stumble as he moved for the door, and she quickly positioned herself so that he could grasp her for balance.

He seemed to be tearing up again, though this time Gilwen fought the urge to baby him, and to care for him the way she wished to. It would do neither of them any good if he simply succumbed to his passions once more. "You are forgiven." Gilwen replied quietly, as they moved back through the tavern and toward the door.

It was uncomfortable, for her to try and bear his weight with her own upon one healthy ankle. Still, she kept her face straight, and her mind focused. He needed to make it back to his home safely; and so she would see to it that he did.

They were in the night air now, and also within sight of her house, and a quick glance to the building brought with it the sight of Niniel, who was clamping a hand over her mouth in horror.

For the moment the mother and daughter's eyes met, it seemed they had a mutual understanding. Gilwen would be returning as soon as she had dropped Faeldor at his own home to be cared for properly.

"Come, then." She murmured softly, beginning their slow trek to the sixth tier. For surely, they would travel slowly.

[Faeldor]

The cool air of night seemed to return a few more of Faeldor’s senses, though as they exited he was entirely unaware of where they were. He did not know this part of the city at all, and at night, he did not recognize Gilwen’s home, and he did not see Niniel, but he would surely be ashamed if he had known that others had recognized him.

Gilwen supported the man, though he was well aware that his weight was too much for her. He felt that she strained beneath him, but he did not remember her sore ankle at the time, and he surely would have let himself fall and stumble home if he had remembered it, and known that he was hurting her. He tried to do his best to walk on his own, not always leaning against her, but at times clinging to her. Now though, he seemed well aware of how much smaller Gilwen was than he, and was incredibly careful of being gentle. He fumbled, yet he was gentle.

The man apologized profusely, again and again as they walked, and all the more quietly each time as he regained his thoughts. “I love you,” he told her, more than a few times, “And I will love you still tomorrow. I will tell you so again then,” he added. Though tomorrow he would not remember saying those words, and he would only be ashamed for his behavior tonight. “I will make this up to you,” he promised her, “Tomorrow, I will find you, and I will make it up, and I will love you properly. I have treated you horribly today, I shall not do this again.” Though, as much as he felt his words tonight, each of the ‘tomorrows’ he said were quite meaningless, for what is a promise if one does not remember it tomorrow?

[Gilwen]

It was clear to Gilwen that he was trying to keep his own, though as full as he was of ale it was only expected for him to have such problems. She made no sound of discomfort, or pain as they worked their way back up toward his house; though a few times she had been forced to catch him using both of her feet.

He kept apologizing; each time making it sound sweeter and more gentle. “Tomorrow, I will find you, and I will make it up, and I will love you properly. I have treated you horribly today, I shall not do this again.” "Then I will wait for it." Gilwen felt the words leave her lips before she had even decided to say them. Perhaps that promise caused her to relax and feel lighter at heart. If tomorrow, when he was sober, he still cared for her; there would be no foul meaning placed in his words from this morning. If he made it up to her, like he claimed he would, he would have felt the need to do such a thing.

If he felt the need to do such a thing---he had not tired of her. They had finally reached the sixth tier, and poor Gilwen was so exhausted that for a moment she thought she would not make it to his door. With a determined breath, she readjusted him against her and helped him up the steps in front of his door, and knocked against the wooden door.

She stole a glance at Faeldor before the door had opened. His eyes seemed clear of tears now, much to her relief. She felt horrid for not being able to do more for him. Still, it seemed dangerous for her to truly show her affections for him. So, she resigned herself to wait.

[Faeldor]

“Sweet Gilwen, thank you, and goodnight,” Faeldor said, as they were at his door, he now grasped to the doorframe instead of her, and he still wished to kiss her and hold her. He restrained himself to the familiar kiss upon her forehead, and his hands clung to the doorway, instead of to the woman. “Tomorrow I will see you,” he told her once more.

If he had been quite in his right senses, the man would have never allowed this; to let the lady walk alone, so late in the evening. It seemed quite dangerous, but he was in no shape to protect her at the time anyhow, and there was nothing he could do. He needed to collapse upon his bed.

The door opened in front of them. “Faeldor!” was the light response. It was Beleth, who had been up reading and waiting for her brother. It seemed that she had not seen him in ages; since she had put the children to bed the night of the dinner party. Upon to woman’s first look at her brother, she knew something was off, and when he stepped toward her, she could smell the alcohol, and saw his stagger. Her eyes flashed to Gilwen, now seeing the other woman. “Gilwen! It is so late…”

“What happened?” she asked her. Gilwen seemed quite sober, and she could tell she looked exhausted; probably from carrying her brother home the way she did. Who knows how far it had been, or from where they had walked. Faeldor clung to his sister to keep from falling down. “He is never like this…” she said incredulously, holding the man’s weight. Beleth was quite a strong woman though, taller than Gilwen, and uninjured, so she managed well enough. Faeldor buried his head in his sister’s shoulder and began to cry piteously. “I think I must put him to bed…” she said, still in awe of the situation. Never in her life had she seen Faeldor cry before! It turned out that she would indeed not have the chance to speak with her brother tonight. “Thank you for bringing him…”

[Gilwen]

As she stood and waited for his door to open, Gilwen let him promise her once more that they would see each other the next day, with a small smile over to him. It seemed Beleth was the one to come to the door, which was well for Gilwen. For a moment, as the door had opened she had feared Miriel would be upon the receiving end of the doorway; and surely all such rumors that had started would have been reinforced.

“Gilwen! It is so late…what happened?” Gilwen simply shook her head and sighed slightly. "Your brother has had a rough evening." She murmured softly, though her expression instantly turned from one of weariness and exhaustion to heartbreak as Faeldor began to weep; and in such a way that it had surpassed his silent tears from the tavern.

She almost made a motion to touch his shoulder, but restrained herself, knowing it would be best if he were in his own bed. “Thank you for bringing him…” She smiled slightly. "Do make sure---" she stopped short, and finished the thought merely in her mind. He finds me tomorrow. No, she would not wish to sway him over the matter. A small silence passed between them, and she finally sighed once more. "Good night, Beleth." And with that, she turned and began her walk back to her third tier home once more.

She was certain Mama would be waiting for her as she approached the door. Still, she felt so worn that it would be no issue at all to recount the events to her mother. Perhaps she would hold her and assure her it would be alright. Faeldor would never recount a promise.

--

The next day passed, dreadfully slow for the young woman. On top of the turmoil her job was bringing her due to her recent demotion for a tarnished reputation, she had not seen Faeldor once. It was a biting pain in her heart. After such promises that he had made; to come and see her, to make up for last night.

Nothing. Not even a mention of his name. Her long shift had ended well into the evening---and morosely the woman started home, her hands coarse and chapped all the more from her extra washing duties. It was clear that by denying him all of her last night she had lost him.

His promises were made while he was quite deep in a few mugs of ale. She passed the stable and faltered for a moment. She did wish to go inside to find him; her heart felt exceedingly empty. But if he wished to not see her, she would allow that.

It was a long walk home, but the minute she got into her home the girl erupted into a hysterical fit of tears, and Niniel came running from the back room with calm words and confused eyes.

"Gilwen, dear, what in heaven's name is wrong?" She asked, wrapping her arms about her comfortingly.

"Mama...he...he...." She could not find the right words. "He lied to me!" Niniel led Gilwen to her bed then, and it was there they sat for the whole night, Niniel rocking her daughter slowly against her chest in a tender motion.

[Faeldor]

“Oh, Beleth…” Faeldor muttered against his sister as she watched Gilwen leave, and then she dragged her brother into the house, he stumbled over the doorstep.

“Faeldor, you are quite drunk, come, to bed now with you,” the young woman said quite sternly. She near carried her brother up the stairway to his bedroom, and took him in, mothering the man all the while. It was only fair; she thought to herself, for he had always taken care of her. There was no need to wake Mother. She sat the man down on his bed, removed his boots and socks, and helped him to take his shirt off.

“Oh, Fael…” she said sadly, seeing the large bruise upon her brother’s chest. It looked deep and darkened, even against the dark room. It was a great purple and blue, and seemed to spread across the right side of the man’s chest from his sternum to beneath his arm, and even past the dark colors, a sickening red and yellow spread lower over his ribs. “You’re hurt,” his sister muttered to herself, bending to examine. The skin had torn in some places, and patches of dried blood clung stuck to him.

She helped the man to lie down on his bed, and he immediately passed out against his pillow. Beleth sighed, and made her way to the kitchen to bring some water and a towel up, and back to her brother’s room she went, pulling aside his heavy arm, and setting to clean up his wound. Better that he was drunk, and asleep, she thought, for the way she needed touch it to clean it was not entirely gentle, and he would have been in pain.

---

“Faeldor… do wake up, you will be late for work.” Faeldor was roused quite early the next morning by his sister’s voice. Miriel and Meleth were nearly ready to leave for their own day at the palace, and Faeldor was not even up and dressed yet. He usually woke on his own, but he returned far too late, and Beleth had said nothing to her family of the way her brother had returned to them the evening before.

She looked at him, he barely moved at the sound of her voice. “Faeldor,” she said once more, shaking his shoulder gently. The man groaned slightly, and opened one eye. “You must go to work, you should not have been out so late, or so drunk,” she lectured her older brother. “Come now, get on up,” she said, going to the man’s closet to pull a fresh shirt for him to wear beneath his tunic. The other was spotted with blood, and she would not let him put that back on.

“Get up, Faeldor,” she said some moments later. “Or Mother will come up here to find you, and she would not be happy to see you like this.” She laid the shirt at the end of his bed, picking up his tunic, and immediately sensing the old ale and smoky tavern smell upon it. She sighed, throwing that off the bed as well, and going again to the closet to pull a fresh one, and fresh socks while she was at it.

The man was finally moving a bit, groaning as he did so, and Beleth went right to him and pulled back his blankets. The man finally looked at his sister, confused, and sitting up on his elbows. That is precisely the moment that he felt his head begin to ache, and he threw his hand against it and fell back down on the bed. And his side was so sore!

“Beleth, what are you doing?” he said, confused as to why his little sister was in his room and rousing him. He tried to remember the night before, but could remember nothing past the time when he had gone down to the third tier to knock on Gilwen’s door. He didn’t even remember his return trip. He certainly didn’t remember having this headache, though he did remember why he had the pain in his chest. He slowly sat up again, his hand still gripping his head, and he looked down at his injured skin. The bruise had grown overnight, and took up a good half of the man’s chest.

“I am getting you up!” Beleth answered the man. “You kept me up quite late last night, and now it’s time for you to wake and go to work,” she said, looking at him with her hands upon her hips. “You will be late.”

“I kept you up?” He sat up the rest of the way, sliding to the edge of the bed; but he felt rather dizzy and stalled for a moment.

“You do not remember a thing do you? It was quite late, and you were incredibly drunk. Were you at the tavern? Or were you at Gilwen’s house? She didn’t hardly say a thing to me when she dropped you off.” Beleth continued, “

“I was with her?” the man said, a bit quickly and confused.

“Of course you were, it looked as if she had to carry you home. I’m surprised the little thing could do such, what with what Mother said about her ankle.”

Faeldor grimaced; not able to remember a thing of it. Maybe he had gone to the tavern. He remembered going to knock upon the lady’s door, and then stopping. She had been upset at him, and he was afraid that she would not wish to speak to him after the episode in the stables. He was ashamed of himself for being so coarse to her.

“What is wrong, Faeldor?” Beleth asked, sitting by her brother. Her stern look had left her. By the end of it, distressed Faeldor had told her everything of his dreadful previous day, and some of the beautiful evening before. Though he had kept most of the things that he and Gilwen had said to each other private, Beleth was able to guess enough of what had transpired between them. “Fael, you love her.” Her voice was a bit whimsical. “If she does love you, she will not be troubled that you had a bad day. You must go see her.”

Beleth’s words were unheard though and Faeldor knew that he could not go to see Gilwen. He had been coarse, and he had frightened her. She ran away from him. If she had loved him she would not have run from him. And he was ashamed; he had seen her in such a state the night before.

---

The man finally rose and dressed, and spent quite a morose day in the stables. She did not come to visit with him on her breaks, nor after her shift; and he must not go into the palace in search of her. He would not wish to ruin her name any more than he already had. He had troubled sweet Gilwen enough.