Dreadfully Charming Guests [Durion]

[Faeldor]

“Another dinner party!” Haliel exclaimed excitedly, rushing as quickly as she might to put on her pretty blue dress. Marileth ran along with her, pulling the girl up the stairs to their bedroom, where they laughed and whispered excitedly. The little girls loved company so, and Meleth had just informed them that they would be having guests this evening!

“Do you think Gilwen will wear a different dress?” Haliel asked her sister expectantly. “Of course,” Marileth replied. “She said she has others. Oh I wonder which color she will wear today, she was ever so pretty last time.”

“I do hope it is blue,” Haliel laughed. “I shall pick some more flowers for her hair, and they will match. Will you help me put them in? I did ruin them last time.” Marileth grinned wryly as she slipped out of her common dress and stood in her white chemise, “Perhaps we should let Fael put them in for her.” This set Haliel into a fit of giggles. “Mari, Fael is a boy! He does not know how to do a lady’s hair!”

The girls were in fits of giggles, and Meleth came past their door as she pinned her own hair up, holding a few hairpins still in her mouth. She pulled them out, holding them in a hand. “Come girls, do get dressed, our company should be here shortly,” the woman said as she looked at the little girls still standing in their undergarments. Her voice was a bit strained, though she tried to hide such from the children. The woman walked past the door quickly and her footsteps were heard to stop not far away near her youngest son’s bedroom. “Faelon, do put your breeches on!” she exclaimed to the boy, who had been in the process of changing, but perhaps gotten distracted and was now sitting upon his floor playing with the wooden Calvary that his older brother had carven for him.

Hearing this set the little girls into even more of a fit, and they fell onto their bed reeling in laughter, sunlight shining upon them through the window.
---
Meleth frowned as she made her way down the great stone staircase. Her parents were in the sitting room talking quietly, though as she came down to head to the kitchen, Tinuves stood and followed after her.

“Lord Roson sent one of his maids over, Meleth,” Tinuves started. “To say that he and his wife will not be able to attend supper with us tonight. They did send their apologies, but said that their daughter would surely still come.” Meleth nodded, almost sighing; it was a trouble at times to entertain the couple, though she was close friends with Lord Roson’s wife.
Tinuves continued. “And Faeldor. I asked him why he had not set out to pick up Gilwen. He was very short with me. He said that he had not asked her to come.” Meleth frowned. It was obvious that this was of more concern to Tinuves than the other guests that would not attend. Meleth knew that there had been some trouble between her son, and Gilwen. She had barely seen the woman among the halls of the palace the past few days, ever since she had last been in her bakery. And even when she did pass by, Gilwen did not turn her eyes upward to look at her, or greet her. Meleth was quite concerned over the matter, though Faeldor had been upset lately, and she had not breeched the matter to him.

“Well that leaves only Miriel’s guests,” Meleth said, frowning, not offering information on Gilwen. Rosiel would certainly come; she always did, even though her parents would not make it. And Lord Durion, a man that it seemed Miriel had become quite fond of speaking of the last few days.

Durion had a noble father, he had been a good man in the Calvary when Faelon had been stable master. Now his son was quite charming, although Meleth seemed to recall that he and Faeldor were near the same age; and Faeldor never had a good thing to say about him. She hoped her son would not be too upset to have the man over. His thoughts were surely elsewhere anyhow.

---

The three older children were still upstairs readying themselves. Faeldor did his best to dress appropriately, though he had a lack of care tonight, and his tunic was slightly wrinkled. He did not care though, about much of anything lately. The man combed his hair back, and sat down upon his window seat, lifting a book from where he had left it the day previous and beginning to read. Anything to distract his distraught mind. His heart had never felt heavier, he was certain, in all his life. He was already tired, from his long day at the stables, and now he must sit through a night of company. He hoped it would end early, and that he might go to bed.

Beleth and Miriel were in their shared room, dressing, and tightening up the backs of each other’s corsets. Though Narbeleth was close to both her sister and her brother, she was not one to let the strain between Miriel and Faeldor get to her, and she still loved and doted on each of them the same. After a time, she kneeled on Miriel’s bed behind her, brushing her long black hair for her. Beleth looked out the window off and on as she worked. It seemed that none of their guests were arriving early, at least, for none of the family were quite ready yet. “Oh, Miriel, is that him?” she asked her sister girlishly, finally seeing the first of which approach; a tall and handsome man. She rested her hands upon her sister’s shoulders.

“It is,” Miriel said, smiling slyly to herself. She was in high spirits, for reasons unknown to her family. She stood to look out the window, and then took her little sister’s hand. “Is he not charming?” she asked, smiling prettily, a light in her eyes. “He is,” Beleth smiled.

“Are you finished?” Miriel asked, slightly impatient, though her voice was not rude. She ran her fingers through her hair. “Oh yes,” Beleth answered, standing up from the bed, and moving in front of Miriel to brush some of her hair over her shoulders, and move a piece back from her eyes. Her fingers tenderly touched the fading bruise upon her sister’s face. “Did you wish to cover that?” she asked hesitantly.

“No, it is fine. It is nearly faded anyhow,” Miriel said. “I shall go greet him,” she added excitedly, heading down the stairs quickly. Narbeleth followed soon after.

[Durion]

It had been quite a productive day for Lord Durion. His own branch of the Calvary had been released for the day; the first break they had all had in what seemed like a few months. Still, Durion was far from idle. That very morning he had gone to take care of some business that he had until then had no time to complete.

And all for the sake of his own enjoyment. In just one day, he had ruined a relationship, and a family. Miriel would be thoroughly pleased. Yes, today he was in high spirits, as if he was feeding off the misfortunes of the unfortunate family he and Miriel had turned their disastrous attention to. And, the most amusing part was, that soldier would not even know that he had caused such a horrible turn of events.

Now, as Durion made his way from his house to that of Miriel’s where he had been invited to supper, he stepped lightly, and confidently. Though, none could ever recall a time when he had not stepped with confidence, it seemed today it was positively brimming. He was dressed well; an ensemble of black and red and gold and all in the finest of fabrics. Those that knew him knew also that such a display was not even his finest of options. Perhaps that was why he delighted in this particular visiting outfit so much. It was almost unsurpassable by any…and he owned tunics of even greater quality. His brown curls seemed to lay perfectly in place, and his black boots were superbly clean.

Even as me moved through the street, he could feel people’s eyes upon him. Such a lovely day, indeed.

He could see he two-story stone house before him now, a sudden sickly joy coming to him. Not only would he further his advances on dear Miriel, but tonight he planned to speak to Faeldor on the positively wonderful news of his beloved harlot. Harlot. Oh, Miriel was truly rubbing off on him, at least as far as names were concerned.

It seemed that though Faeldor was exceedingly depressed and melancholy about his business lately, Durion was unsatisfied. No, he was appalled the reaction had not been bigger. He obviously had not heard what atrocious things had happened to his beloved wretch, or perhaps remembered the childish display Faeldor had shown her days ago now. Things that were only going to get worse, if Durion had his way.

And when did Durion ever not receive his way?

He approached the door, and knocked strongly, his smile spreading all the more. Tonight would be clearly unforgettable.

[Faeldor]

Meleth was about to answer the knock, but Miriel was all a rush to reach the door first. She stood for a moment and composed herself, brushing her hair back over her shoulders, and then opened it. The woman smiled at Durion, was he ever charming. He was more handsome than she remembered each time she saw him, and now his blood red vest trimmed with gold, and his attractive brown curls upon his shoulders.

“My Lord Durion,” she smiled, her cheeks a lively pink, and her breath quickened from her run down the stairs. She offered the man her hand.

---

Faeldor had seen the man approaching, from where he sat in the window. It seemed that the red had drawn his gaze, and he almost gaped. Durion? What was a man such as Durion doing, calling at his own home? The man had been rather smug with him lately, and he had not approved at all. He felt his anger start to burn within him at the man’s confident step as he watched him approach all the way to his doorstep.

Then, he saw Miriel positively rush past his room to go to the door. Miriel had invited him? Since when had Miriel been interested in a man as disgusting as Durion? He looked beyond the man, and saw also coming down the walk toward their house fair Rosiel. Faeldor placed his hand over his head, and sighed. This was going to be a dreadful night.

He stood slowly. It would be unfair to his mother if he did not make his own appearance.

---

Haliel and Marileth had finally dressed, and now made their way past Faeldor’s doorway, walking slowly. Marileth held to Haliel’s hand while the littlest girl held the banister on their way down. “Come, let us go to the gardens quickly and pick some flowers,” Haliel said happily. She heard that one of the guests had arrived, but it was certainly not Gilwen yet, for Faeldor was still in his room.

“Perhaps we can find a lovely purple one as well,” Marileth added. “Purple goes nicely with blue,” she said quietly. “Oh! And a pink!” Haliel added, and then finished. “If she does wear blue tonight, perhaps our dresses will match!”

The girls made it down the stairway, walking past their grandfather, who was beaming at them, and went out the back door to their family gardens.

[Durion]

Durion's smile erupted the second the door swung open. Lovely green eyes were staring back at him now, and a lovely and delicate hand was extended to him. He bowed slightly, grasping her hand and bringing it to his lips, perhaps lingering a bit too long. "Lady Miriel." He righted himself, though let her hand go much more slowly than would have been normally. "You look positively radiant." He complimented easily.

Over her shoulder, he could see Meleth, and he smiled and bowed his head slightly to her as well. "Lady Meleth, you look lovely yourself." Flattery was something that Lord Durion hardly struggled with. It seemed to roll of his tongue smoothly, no matter whom he was talking to.

He looked back to Miriel and smiled a bit more secretively. "This shall certainly put a lovely end to a lovely day." The words seemed innocent enough; if one was not aware of the plans Miriel and Durion had contrived to make her dear family more stately. And even today, Durion had taken some leeway in those plans to perhaps please her more. With this sentence, he hoped greatly she would find a time and place for him to share his deeds for the day.

They moved into the house now, and Durion eagerly looked for Faeldor. Oh, he did wish to tell him all of the repulsive little stories that very second. Still, he kept his outside appearance very calm and collected and reminded himself that it would be worth the reaction if he waited for the proper time.

And so he would.

[Faeldor]

"You look positively radiant." Miriel’s smile could not have been wider at such a compliment from the man. “You are rather charming yourself, Durion,” she said softly almost in a purr, though her words were quite forward. “Hm… and a lovely day, I would so love to hear of it. Do come in,” she offered, stepping back.

Meleth smiled at the compliment. What a wordy man, it seemed, Durion had become. She remembered his youthful words, and they often were not so becoming as the way he spoke now. Well, she mused, people do change. Perhaps it would be good for Miriel to spend time with the man. Perhaps if she had someone else to focus on, she would not be so focused on her dear brother’s interactions.

As Miriel took her step back, she looked up, and saw Rosiel coming up the walk, lovely in a green dress with her curls blowing slightly in the wind, and a shawl to cover her shoulders.

“Ah, and here comes Rosiel. I thought that dear Faeldor might use some company, seeing as his mistress could not make it,” she commented quietly to the man standing in front of her.” However, she did not wait for Rosiel to enter, and instead showed Durion into her house, leaving Meleth to greet the young woman.

---

By this time, Faeldor had made it down the stairs, and started to walk toward the entryway, when his grandfather spoke to him. “What is this your Grandmother tells me, about you not inviting your Lady Gilwen tonight?” he asked. “It is true,” Faeldor said shortly. “I did not wish to bother her.” Melanir was about to speak again, but Faeldor did not wish to be questioned, and quickly left the room.

He made his way to the entry room, where now it seemed both Durion and Rosiel were standing. Was this all the company? He had thought that surely Mother had invited others. He frowned at Rosiel, and all but glared at Durion, who seemed to be standing so closely with his sister. He did neither the honor of greeting them.

[Durion]

"I will surely tell you all of it, as soon as time permits." Then, the handsome man had let Miriel lead him away from the door, with some hushed words about Gilwen that almost brought him to laugh. "He will ever be in the need of company, it seems." It was a delectable hint as to what he would share with her later, though he was careful not to speak of such things too loudly. For as they entered the home more, a tall figure did appear in the corner. Durion had surely noticed the second Faeldor stepped into the room; and he acknowledged him with quite a charming smile.

"Master Faeldor, it is good to see you." And the words were not a lie. Still, the joy that came from seeing him was a twisted and warped version of such an emotion; Durion could hardly remember what pure bliss felt like now. Still, this was about as good as it could possibly get for the young man. He stepped closer to Miriel, and gauged the horse master's expression. He did look quite upset already. Best to test the waters. He thought cheerily.

"Where is that lovely young woman I saw you with the other day? I surely would like to introduce myself to her properly," He said easily, and with such expression that it was surely only clear to Miriel and Faeldor himself precisely how dastardly the statement was. If only he knew how much Durion already was knowledgeable in the matter already! He smiled to himself; for in fact, he knew more on the subject than Faeldor did himself.

Of course, that was hardly fair. So he would make sure to right that before the night was over.

---

Gilwen had been working terribly hard all day. She had arrived at sunrise, as she was always prone to do. The workload that she was given, though would surely take her until nightfall to complete. And all to keep her wages somewhat the same. Her entire body ached, and her hand were red and chapped from a full day's worth of lye water; and there were small cuts upon her hands from the scrub brush she had used.

When one was running off of no sleep, and had not eaten a true meal for at least two days ones work tended to get sloppy. In Gilwen's case, she was making the same mistake of brushing her own hand with the stiff bristles over and over again. She glanced out the window sadly, letting the light bathe her pale skin for a moment before turning her attention to her task once more. It is a blessing to still have a job. She thought to herself. This was one sentence that had found its way to her head often as of late.

And all of this hardship over a lie. Gilwen could feel the dead feeling rise once more in her heart. It had become ever so familiar. At first, she had hidden her change in position; she need not trouble her family with such matters. Though, they day after she had been held by her mother as she had cried...the rumors had come to them.

She had arrived home, rather late for her extended shift, and both of her parents were waiting for her in the living room. Her father, who was a strong and worn man, looked angry; and disappointed. Immediately Gilwen knew something was wrong.

"I have raised my daughter better than to throw herself away for some man's whims." He had said to her sternly. It had immediately caused Gilwen to shake.

"Papa, I have not done anything of the sort." She murmured in response. She had been unable to match his boldness, for the shame of simply the rumor itself had caused Gilwen to lose confidence.

Her father's face had twisted in fury at her words, and Gilwen recoiled. "You expect me to believe that after my own soldiers spoke of my daughter's horrible morals?!" Niniel reached across and grabbed his arm to steady him. "Niniel, our daughter is out harloting herself among the men of the city! And where, Gilwen, have those payments gotten to? For it seems you work and work in that palace and have brought home very little in wages."

That had struck her deep; and she had finally been forced to explain her cut in pay. This had infuriated her father more; and for a moment it looked as if he would have stormed right out of the room, or struck his daughter on her already bruised cheek. "I will work harder, I will take on more hours! Papa, I am terribly sorry!"

"Yes, you will." He had replied; and then he had turned and locked himself in his room. Niniel, of course had rushed to her now hysterical daughter to comfort her once more.

And so Gilwen had taken on more hours; and worked twice as long as she used to to maintain the same payment to bring home. She spoke not to her father, and barely to her mother of how it was slowly destroying her. Though, Niniel had surely been able to see the transformation in her daughter as the lovely pink cheeks became overcome with grey.

She would be on her way home soon; where she would simply lock herself in her room once more.

[Faeldor]

"I will surely tell you all of it, as soon as time permits… He will ever be in the need of company, it seems." Miriel’s green eyes glinted. “I will be ever so delighted to hear,” she said quietly, knowing that Durion must have pleasant new to tell her. He seemed in such a good mood, and ever so mischievous.

Miriel smiled slyly, as Durion greeted her brother, and her smile only grew as Durion stepped closer to her. She took advantage of the situation, and wrapped her dainty hand around Durion’s elbow smugly. Faeldor glared at them. “Durion,” was all he managed to say. He did not like the fact that his sister was touching a man he had expressly forbidden her to stay away from, and a man he had feuded with for all his life. He should have known the next was coming, with the way the two looked at him so expectantly.

"Where is that lovely young woman I saw you with the other day? I surely would like to introduce myself to her properly."

Faeldor flinched at Durion’s biting words. If the man had spent any time with Miriel, as he was quite certain he had, Miriel surely would have mentioned Gilwen. Durion had been there those few days ago in the stables, when he had been so cross with her, and the man had gone after her. He had been the last one to touch his pretty Gilwen, and kiss her on the hand. The wretched man.

It seemed that the jeweled gleam in Miriel’s eyes was focused right on her brother, and Faeldor looked to his sister in disgust, never having seen her uglier than at that moment.

“Do you mean the pretty one who tried to strike you?” Faeldor asked dryly. He had seen Gilwen raise her hand to Durion, though he had stalled her. “I do not think she took to you. She would not enjoy being here this evening.” The man did not mention that she had not been invited this evening,

[Durion]

“Do you mean the pretty one who tried to strike you?” Durion's smile hardly even faltered, though inwardly his mind flared dangerously. "You do not think so? Well then, by all means I should fix that," he looked down to Miriel for a moment as her hand gripped his elbow. "When will she be arriving so that I may apologize for offending her so?"

It was certain, at least in Durion's mind, that Gilwen would not be here. Not after the display her precious Faeldor had gifted to her in the tavern a few nights ago. And, for every day since then Faeldor had been sulking about the stables--everything was working so well. It seemed only too easy. Oh, but Miriel only needed to hear what he had done today!

"I would not want her to think me rude, after all." He turned his attention to Miriel once more, and for a moment brushed her cheek with his own, smiling charmingly. "I do very much wish to see the rest of your house, lovely." He murmured to her, before pulling away and glancing to Faeldor defiantly.

Oh, this was all too easy. Calmly, he began to move away from the doorway, leaving Rosiel in clear site of Miriel's dear brother. Tonight would be so interesting to watch; how many ways Faeldor would be tormented at Durion's own doing. It was as if all those years as children when Faeldor had beaten him would be re-payed to him in tenfold.

The sweet thought brought a crooked smile to his lips once more, as he glanced back over to Rosiel as he and Miriel lingered a moment before the doorway to the sitting room by his own accord. "Let us see, for a moment." He whispered to Miriel.

[Faeldor]

"You do not think so? Well then, by all means I should fix that. When will she be arriving so that I may apologize for offending her so?"

“She will not be attending tonight.” The man spoke quietly, though it did enough to bring a smile to Miriel’s face. Faeldor clenched his fists at his side. Oh, how sorry was he right now that he was the Stable Master, and that his mother was throwing a dinner party. Otherwise he may have fallen to immature behavior and punched the man for his words.

Narbeleth frowned, having stepped into the room soon enough to hear the last of the statements. “Fael, have you not spoken with her yet?” she whispered to her brother, stepping to his side. Faeldor ignored the question though.

It was perhaps only the fact that Beleth was standing next to him, and had grasped his sleeve, and that little Haliel and Marileth entered the room, both with a handful of flowers, that kept Faeldor from striking out at Durion as he gave such an affectionate gesture to Miriel, touching her cheek with his own. Well! Perhaps the two manipulative beasts were quite suited for each other! The man had just called his manipulative sister ‘lovely’. As they walked past him toward the sitting room, he snapped in a low voice, “Durion, do not touch my sister so. It is quite un-proprietous of you.”

Miriel frowned at Faeldor’s words, whereas she had been infatuated moments earlier by Durion’s soft touch. “Dury, It seems that my brother does not understand the meaning of propriety. That he should speak against such a small gesture of affection.” At that she leaned to her side and kissed the handsome man upon the cheek as they walked into the hall, though moving slowly and waiting near the doorway to the sitting room at Durion’s request.

Beleth sighed, moving back to the children. They would be disappointed for the flowers they had just plucked from the garden. If Gilwen was not to come tonight, there would surely be no place for the flowers.

Rosiel, having finished greeting Meleth, and giving her regards from her parents, now sauntered into the room, as Meleth went once more toward the kitchen. She looked down at the little girls for a moment, leaning down to them, “Well, what pretty flowers. Might I?” she asked for Marileth’s flowers. The little girl was reluctant, but handed them over to the young woman. She was a guest afterall.

The woman took the flowers, and then stepped quietly towards Faeldor, now unhindered from him, as it seemed he had not brought that little footsoldier’s daughter with him. “Hello, Fael,” she said, smiling sweetly. “I feel as if the others have left me alone tonight. I did not know that Miriel had invited a suitor,” she said, her eyes quite gladdened that she had a reason to stick by the lone man’s side.

Rosiel’s words burned the man from head to toe. A suitor? Durion was nothing of the sort! Perhaps a charmer that willed ladies to do as he wished, but no suitor. Rosiel boldly took his arm, wrapping her little hand around him just as Miriel had done to Durion. Her dress was cut unrespectabley low; a style that Miriel also enjoyed. “And Miriel tells me that you’ve decided against that utterly dreadful servant girl. Such is a good choice on your part, I might say. Perhaps you will have more room to dance with me tonight,” she suggested.

Faeldor was too tired to reply or shrug the woman off, he simply turned to lead her into the sitting room as well. The more quickly he found her a seat, the sooner she would be off his arm. He would take initiative to make sure he was not seated by her tonight at the table.

[Durion]

Durion shifted his gaze slightly, forcing his face into a sad expression. "She is not? Oh, that is too bad." He glanced down with a concealed smile to Miriel. See, look what we have done. He thought happily; taking the moment to move away once more. The stable master's biting tongue did try and scold him, though the second it had left his bitter lips, dear Miriel stepped in with a witty jab at the clueless man.

“Dury, It seems that my brother does not understand the meaning of propriety. That he should speak against such a small gesture of affection.”

The name was positively revolting. She had never before called him something so ridiculous, still it seemed to make Faeldor's stomach turn as much as his own, and so Durion let it slide. Instead he laughed, though it was hardly a melodic sound; something about it was a little disturbing. "Now, now, Miriel." Durion playfully chided. "It seems Master Faeldor is confused." He flicked his cold eyes to Faeldor's grey ones and smirked. You will know soon enough.

It was positively all he could bear, as he turned to Miriel once more. "Come, lovely. Let us sit." He took his lovely trophy that clung to his arm and led her to the couch where he set her down gently and then joined her. Listening lightly to Rosiel's chipper words as he went. He worked quickly, simply because two little girls had entered with flowers.

He was not a fan of children, or at least little girls. Boys he could deal with in short spurts. Clingy little girls; he could do without those. At least until they became useful. He stole a glance at Faeldor as he entered with Rosiel. Oh, the man was positively riled up. But now...it was time to meet the other members of Miriel's family.

[Faeldor]

Durion was greeted by all of Faeldor’s family; none of them having quite the same disgust for him as the stable master did. Melanir seemed to enjoy the man’s witty humor, and Tinuves could easily see how Miriel was quite infatuated by him. He was a looker, after all. He was finally introduced to Narbeleth, who had been with them all along, though rather ignored between Faeldor’s anger and Miriel’s pleasure at angering her brother. Even Beleth thought him quite charming though, for

Meleth was in and out of the sitting room as she finished the supper and set it on the table. Yet finally she called the family in to take their seats, and once again, Faeldor was swept up by Rosiel as the others took their places at the table, leaving Miriel and Durion to sit together across from Faeldor.

“Fael!” Haliel inquired from the side table. The children were supposed to be quiet and polite during meals, but the guests had been here for near an hour already, and Gilwen had not as much as set foot into their house yet. Now they were sitting down to supper, and without her!

“Yes, little flower,” Faeldor tilted back in his chair to see his sister. His words were quite restrained, and they were the first he had said in a long while. He had let Rosiel chatter away to him while he ignored most every word she said, and drew himself to be more and more upset over all the situations at hand.

“Fael, where is Gilwen? Why did she not come?” Haliel asked. It seemed that the little girl was almost brimming with tears. “Is it because I have ruined her dress?” she asked now. “Will she never come back?”

Haliel’s little words shot at Faeldor, yet again, though she had meant him no harm by them. He frowned, looking away from his sister and was almost about to reassure her, when Miriel cut in.

“Now Haliel, it is well enough to miss our dear Gilwen, but I am sure there is good reason for her not being here tonight, yes Faeldor? It is certainly not because of the dress,” her eyes were glinting. “Though I have been quite worried about the poor dear myself.”

“And why would you be so worried of her?” Faeldor asked his sister sharply.

“Well have you not heard, Faeldor? Did she not tell you?” Miriel started, giving her family a surprised look. Meleth frowned, knowing where the conversation was headed, but also surprised that Faeldor had not heard the news that was all about the palace. Would not Gilwen have told him?

Faeldor was not ready to admit to his family that he had not seen his sweet Gilwen in four days, and nobody had made known to him the news. “We have not spoken on it.” Faeldor answered shortly.

“Her impulsive behaviors have gotten the best of her,” Miriel said sadly, her hand grasping joyously to the side of Durion’s vest beneath the table. “They have deemed her harlotous behavior unfit to be presented toward the Steward, and have moved her down to simply a regular scrubbing lady. Poor thing, and they have probably dropped her pay tremendously. She has been working near eighteen hours a day, I hear. At least she is lucky enough to have kept her job,” Miriel nodded, a pseudo morose look upon her face.

Faeldor’s jaw almost dropped. “Gilwen is a virtuous woman. She is no harlot!” he exclaimed. The children were all watching him, and he tried to calm his temper.

Miriel could not retain her own smirk. “I would say, dearest Faeldor, do tell that to the women who walked in on her handling you in the closet. She is lucky to have not lost her job entirely over it.” Meleth blushed, and Tinuves looked away; Melanir sat simply shocked that his granddaughter would say such against Faeldor, and even at the table.

[Durion]

The family had been easy enough to fool; with a simple witty remark, and a flash of smile, Durion had completely entranced them. Wonderful. Yes, this had all been quite easy for the lord, to swoop in and make Faeldor's night begin with such strain. Still, it seemed that it took a new turn at the dinner table. A quite pleasing turn, really. And it had all started with one of the little girls. Perhaps young children were useful at a young age, after all. He smirked.

He let the events unfold naturally, for it seemed that it required very little prodding. Miriel did have a tactful way to go about such things; though by the end it was so very brash. While it was not as delicate as what he could have done, the reactions pleased him nonetheless.

"Gilwen?" He offered finally, frowning as if trying to sort information in his head. "Is that her name? Beregar's daughter." His emotions forced a small frown and then shook his head dolefully. "That is quite a shame for the family, then. To get such cuts in wages---and especially now!"

He paused here for a moment as if he did not wish to offer more information; though he continued shortly. "I heard this morning they have let him go from his position. I had thought it strange, really. For he is so well with them. Though they did find some of his men have in fact been with her themselves." He flicked his eyes to Faeldor, as if speaking directly to him. "It seems that dear Gilwen will have to make up for his lost pay. Such long hours she works already!"

"The woman will get no rest, that is certain. Still, now her family is being supported on her pay alone, and one must eat." He took a moment sigh sadly, though it was obvious to Faeldor that surely this was not his true emotion. There was a small silence. "It is a shame, truly."

He looked to Miriel pointedly, as if to let her know this was exactly what he had done today. She would catch his cool gaze, Durion was certain. He wanted greatly to see the sparkle in her eyes at this wonderful gift he had given her. This surely would step him toward his goals!

[Faeldor]

Faeldor listened to Durion speak in shocked silence, and as the man had finished, he reached for a bottle of wine that was upon the table and poured his glass full. Anything to avoid the situation; he did not wish to start argument with the guests at the table, and with is mother and the children sitting so near.

“Quite a shame,” Miriel hummed aloud, agreeing with Durion, looking at Faeldor. “Perhaps not the situation, so much as the girl herself,” she added. The woman looked to the man next to her, her green eyes truly happy and sparkling at the just the thought of it. “Lovely day indeed,” she muttered so softly that only Durion would be able to hear her. She placed her hand upon the man’s thigh beneath the table.

“Excuse you?” Faeldor said, standing up at the table. “I do not believe a word of what you say, she has had no men with her,” he said loudly, his face burning. Gilwen had been with no other man, she had told him so, and she had said that he was hers. There was no way on all of this Earth that he’d believe such lies, and especially from the crooked mouth of Durion.

Faeldor had a mind to walk right out of the house itself; right down to the third tier, and wait for pretty Gilwen to come home. But if what Miriel had said was true, she would still be working hours longer. He frowned, finishing his meal in silence, as did the rest of the family. Rosiel tried to comfort the man by placing her hand upon his own leg, and he simply ignored her.

It seemed that the supper clearing began rather hastily, and the grandparents and Meleth made quick moves from the table. There was no mention of music this night; for Melanir had not the mind to play festivities after what he had just heard. Perhaps the party would wrap up early afterall, Faeldor thought, as he reached for his second glass of wine.

[Durion]

Durion had to fight to keep his face in control, with a look of pure sorrow and pity upon his lovely features. But with Miriel's hand upon his thigh, it was quite a battle. Slowly, he slipped his own atop of her own hand, and squeezed her gently, as if to reassure her that he had done these things for her as a token of his affections.

Faeldor seemed to jump up at the table in a right wind of anger, and once more Durion had to fight to keep his face in the expression it held. "Well, Faeldor," he began tauntingly. Perhaps it was not so much in his lilt that this next line uttered would hurt Faeldor, but perhaps the entire message of it. It seemed that he and Miriel had already stabbed the man in the heart; all that was left to do was the twisting. "You are one of the few people who think so."

It was a rotten thing to think of, he was sure, for Faeldor. To know that he and Gilwen were fighting a losing battle...it could not possibly help his mood. Which was, in fact, precisely why Durion had said such a thing. Even Meleth's face seemed to show she had heeded them---and Meleth had struck Miriel over the matter herslef. If someone like that had been swayed, surely he was standing alone.

Dinner had finished quietly, and for the lack of conversation, quickly. Durion had watched Faeldor's wine consumption rather intently, smiling inwardly that soon he would have more words to say. The way he was drinking...this had been precisely the way it had started just four nights ago. He had worn that same distressed look upon his face, and he had begun to drink---and my he had consumed such ale!

Meleth and the two grandparents stood and began to clear the table, and the children in the corner seemed quite intent amongst themselves and paid no mind to the young men and women still seated. Faeldor reached for the wine bottle to poor his second glass and Durion reached for his own, and as soon as grasped it looked to Faeldor as if with concern. "I do not think that drinking so is quite what you need, Faeldor." The look in his eyes told them all he knew precisely what Faeldor had done at the tavern---though Rosiel was sure to not understand.

"After all, it has not been too long since your last drunken escapade. There is no need for another quite yet." His voice was low, and would barely carry past the table itself. Though, to Faeldor, it was probably loud and clear.

---

She had finally stopped scrubbing once more, taking her lightly bleeding hands and wiping them on her apron. From her position on the stone floor, she could see that the sun had sunk low, and the light of the morning had vanished, though it seemed the sky was starless this evening. How fitting. Gilwen thought sternly, as she took her small and weary body and leaned it against the wall of the hallway she had been kneeling in for the past two and a half hours.

It hurt terribly; her body. Her knees and her hands, and her neck seemed to throb and sting with their heavy use. But more than all of that: her heart. Through all the pain of that, she barely noticed the physical. She still had a bit more to clean, and should a mistress walk by and see her idle, she would surely be punished for it with more chores, or another cut in wage.

But she couldn't move anymore. Not at all. It had been well on fourteen hours since her arrival to work this morning; and Gilwen felt broken. She chanced a look out of the window again, and saw the gently burning lights of the stable from where she sat. Instantly she began to cry once more. Not seeing Faeldor for four whole days....and he hadn't even had the decency to let her know he had tired of her.

She was doing better on it. Gilwen was learning to keep herself from crying about it all the time, though she had certainly shed plenty of tears over her own foolishness. What would a man like Faeldor have loved her for? She never should have let herself get so carried away. The new ache she felt in her chest was enough to make the girl move away from the wall once more, and resume her cleaning. It was best to keep busy, after all. It made her mind and heart numb enough to survive.

Soon, she had finished, and the girl packed up her things and went to put them away in the servant's closet. She got to the door, and sighed. It seemed routine now, to love and hate this room. Love it, for the last time Faeldor had visited her in the palaces he had embraced her right here, though loathing of it for the sheer destruction it had done to her life.

She once more tiptoed to put the bucket back on its place, and found herself once more wishing that a strong arm would slide around her, and lift the bucket into it's place for her. It will never happen again. She scolded herself, finally turning to leave the palace and begin her walk to the third tier.

Exhaustion would make her slow in her return home---that was for certain.

[Faeldor]

"You are one of the few people who think so." Faeldor’s eyes burned into Durion. The way he spoke so calm and collected, with all intent to harm. And now he was harming his own family. A glance around the table showed him that none met his own eyes. Did they truly believe such lies? Did they not believe Faeldor himself? The one who had stepped up to provide and care for his family.

Even Melanir, who had been so taken by Gilwen’s pretty smile and lovely laughter, was not meeting his eyes. He thought of all people, that Melanir would understand his situation; and the treacherous rumors that had ruined everything. And Meleth! Why would his mother not look at him? Had she not cared for the girl at all? She had surely comforted the girl the day Miriel had beaten her. And it seemed that she had enjoyed the visit with Niniel. Would not even speaking to Gilwen’s own mother set her mind at ease on the topic?

If it were not for those scandalous falsities that had been spread, Gilwen would have surely come to him in the stables that day and comforted him; rather than igniting his temper as she did. He pictured her beautiful brown eyes in tears, and the way she had turned and run from him. Has anyone comforted her? He wondered. It had been four days since he had seen her; five since he had held her and loved her; and just six since she had sat across the table from him here, in Durion’s very seat, and received the same ridicule from his own sister.

Narbeleth grasped her brother’s hand warmly, a sign, at least, that she would be by him. She did not wish her brother to be unhappy, and from what she had seen of Gilwen; the woman was lovely and kind, and perfect for her brother. Though she had enjoyed Durion at first, and thought it good for Miriel to be taking such noble company, she was beginning to see that he took as much sport from her brother’s situation as did Miriel.

As Faeldor sat again, and raised his glass to his lips, words cut him off again and he lowered it. "I do not think that drinking so is quite what you need, Faeldor. After all, it has not been too long since your last drunken escapade. There is no need for another quite yet."

Faeldor’s eyes flashed to Narbeleth who was beside him. Had she told someone? If she had mentioned the matter to Miriel, that was certainly how Durion had known. Beleth looked a bit startled, and shook her head at him though; she had not said a word, least of all to her sister, who would have surely used such knowledge against poor Faeldor.

Miriel looked to Durion sweetly and prodded, “And what would you know of that, dear?” she asked him, though she had very well heard the story already.

Faeldor was grimacing to himself. Durion would surely not be bragging so about Gilwen’s father if it were not the truth; and the man had actually been fired. Meleth would have spoken up what Miriel had said of Gilwen’s own demotion were not the truth. And Beleth would not have told the family of the state he had returned home in those nights previous. He glared across the table at Durion and Miriel. They seemed in a league of their own, destined to cause his unhappiness and Gilwen’s suffering.