Sweet Singing by the Fire [December 3009] {Gilwen}

Faeldor watched the brisk back and forth conversation between Beregar and Niniel and, marking the similarities between Gilwen and her mother herself. Niniel, the quiet woman she was, was even beginning to protest the situation, and it made Faeldor feel all the more competent that he knew what was best for Gilwen.

Beregar seemed to be unreasonable though. As if this had been his plan all along, as if he had spent the past months trying to think of a way to get Gilwen back under his own roof, and away from Faeldor's. Though Gilwen loved her parents, Faeldor could not imagine letting Beregar take her away. For caring so much now he seemed to forget how he had cared so little for her left upon the streets to whither away and die of fever.

“That girl is in better shape than some of the men who have to march their way back to Minas Tirith from the battles with the Haradrim! I know she can make it safe with me, though it seems everyone else doubts her. Am I the only one who can see that she is strong?”

“I know she is strong, else she would not have made it this far. I do not doubt she could make the journey alive,” Faeldor protested. “However making it safe and making it in good health are two different matters. She is making good strides in healing; she will be strong in body soon, should you leave her to continue her recovery.” Faeldor, however, was not certain that Gilwen would take the same strides in recovery of mind. He thought he had glimpsed her former self tonight, as they had sat together near the fire and he spoke of their home to be. The music and dance. Though it had been fleeting.

As he spoke, Meleth appeared again at the top of the stairway, having left Gilwen in the bedroom with Tinuves getting her settled into her nightclothes.

“Beregar, have you forgotten that you sent her out of your home? You've given up every right you had to make decisions for Gilwen. Right now she is under my roof; and my Mother's ward. If anyone has a right to make the decision of whether she is travel ready or not, it is my Mother who has brought her back to life these past two months. You will undo every bit of progress she has come by

Faelon and Haliel were both still seated upon the stool, growing wary of the tone that had descended upon the room. Haliel's face was beginning to scrunch as it so often did before her tears came.

Meleth noted them and called, as she stepped lithely down the stairwell. “Mari, Lonni, Hali, go to the kitchen and have another cookie. It's Yule afterall.” Her voice was bright, and she noticed to the way Miriel was standing and clutching her stomach, a pained look upon her face. “Miriel, go ahead with them. You should take two cookies I think. And get everyone some milk.”

The young woman nodded to her mother, bending for Haliel's crutch, just barely grasping it in her fingers over the bulk of her stomach. She groaned slightly as she stood again and offered it to the child. Haliel stood and started to move toward the doorway, though Faelon stood and with great fortitude, stepped next to his brother instead.

“You aren't going to let Gilwen go, are you Fael?” Faelon asked, mirroring his brother's stance next to him, and looking with disdain upon Beregar.

“She is not well enough to go,” Faeldor repeated, his eyes upon the man before him.

Meleth stepped forward, joining Faeldor's opposite side. “I'm sure Gilwen was glad to see you for Yule, though I think it's time you go home, Beregar, you are making my children uneasy.” Her eyes were hot, and her frame was slight compared to the man standing in front of her, though she was unrelenting. “Niniel… we have the guest room if you would like to stay out of the rain. Faeldor can walk you home tomorrow when it lets up.”

Both Faeldor and Meleth were frowning, looking on as Beregar raged from the house. Faeldor was on his heels toward the door, for Haliel was standing in the entryway of the hall, and his mind raged back to the first time Beregar had set foot in their house those months past. The child was still afraid of him. Haliel was well though, and it was not many moments before Miriel had ushered she and Faelon along with Marileth off toward the kitchens. Faeldor and Meleth though, stayed put.

“Not mine to control,” Faeldor muttered under his breath as the slamming of the door rang through the house.

“Are you sure it is the right thing? Providing for him to come?” Meleth asked Faeldor warily. Both of them moved toward the front of the room, Faeldor opening the door once more to spy through the rain down the street, though Beregar and Niniel had already moved round the curve of the cobbled and he could no longer see them. He pulled the door shut once more, and Meleth immediately moved the wooden bar in place, that nobody could enter from the outside.

“I… do not know. I think I have changed my mind on that, yet I had given him my word, and I do not think Gilwen would leave her mother here. I do not even trust him with a horse though now… after this. Did you see how he commanded his wife?” Faeldor grumbled, now moving to the window in the entry as if he were about to keep watch through the night.

“Yes, I saw,” Meleth answered, her voice thoughtful. It had not passed her eyes; the roughness with which he had handled her. Her own husband never would have touched her in that way.

“Mother,” Faeldor started. “I do not wish to disappoint your plannings yet… I think it best we put this off no longer. I will take Gilwen to wife before those four days.”

“Fael,” Meleth put her hand upon her son's shoulder. “Perhaps you are right. The plans can wait, and we can celebrate later The legalities should take place, however. I cannot see letting her go, in the state she is in. If guards are sent to the door. Well, I truly have no right over her. I'm not sure that I could convince them. If she had wanted to leave us she would have done so before now, or said something in the least I'm sure.”

“She does not wish to leave,” Faeldor shook his head. “I know she's happy with us. When I told her of the inn… her smile...I will go speak with her,” the man stated, and he had hardly finished his sentence before long legs were taking him up the flight of stairs.

He passed his grandmother at the top of the stairwell, and she stopped moving, putting her hand upon her grandson's chest to still him before he passed her. “Faeldor...” she started. Perhaps he should know. The wounds were old, and they hardly troubled her for pain or injury anymore, though… she was not completely convinced.

“Yes, Grandmother?” he stopped, his face slightly alarmed for the distraction in his mission.

Tinuves frowned. “She's very tired. Do not keep her up,” she stated, changing her mind again. Perhaps tonight though she would discuss the matters with Meleth again.

“She needs her rest,” Faeldor agreed, relaxing. “I will not keep her awake long, but to see she is settled and wish her goodnight.”

Tinuves nodded, dropping her hand from her grandson, and starting down the stairway, while Faeldor strode toward his old bedroom, pausing first to knock upon the door. “Gilwen, it's me,” he called in, pausing for a moment, before turning the handle. He knew if his grandmother had left her, she would be upon the bed and not indecent.

Faeldor forced a smile as he stepped into the room, seeing Gilwen tucked into the coverlets, a tall candle burning beside the bed. The room was quite his own still, his closet and dresser still filled with is own wardrobe, though the dresses that had been made for Gilwen now hung beside his own tunics. A shelf along the upper reaches of his room held at least two dozen model ships, those he had carved and made himself in his younger years, and one wall had a large painting which Miriel had made for him, hung prominently to see from the bedside. The cliffs of Belfalas, and the ocean waves raging beneath.

“Starlight,” Faeldor started, crossing to her, and kneeling beside the bed, leaning his elbows upon it. Her brown eyes were glistening in the candlelight. “I am sorry the evening ended as such. Perhaps you can dream tonight on our next Yule. You will be very well yourself again by then. We shall hang the greens in our cottage and about the inn.” He moved to take one of her hands in both of his, bringing it to his lips to kiss, then simply holding it.

“We shall spend the whole eve in music,” he said, light hearted. Even as he looked upon her she was settling his nerves. “Half of it in dancing. And the other half I shall spend kissing my wife. Does it not sound a dream?”

“Fael, It… hasn’t ended so poorly.”

She had laughed, just as he had hoped, but his eyes gleamed, for he was certainly telling her the truth. He would hang mistletoe on every doorframe and archway to make it so, and all his loved ones would be about him.

“Fael, I can’t wait to marry you.”

Faeldor's smile widened at the words, and he basked at the feel of her hand against his face. No, she could not wait, and she would no longer have need to. He knew she was about to speak again though; her mind was rolling through thoughts, and her eyes seemed to lose their focus on him as she pieced her words together within her.

“But I…I love my family, Fael. I want to go with Papa and Mama. I need to. I’ve spent so much time here lately… Papa and Mama will be happy if I go with them to Dol Amroth, and I will be happy knowing they’re happy. By the time you come in March, my goodbyes will be made to them, and I can be yours.”

“I know you love them,” he started. “That is why we have made such plans to take them with us. I know you would not be without them, and I wish you to be happy. No goodbyes need be said, sweetheart, for you will not need to leave them, and you will see your mother daily for my own mother would choose none other than she to work with her about the kitchens and the Inn. My family has many connections and knows many people. Your Father will have work and a home in no time, and be happily settled before we arrive. They will live far better in Dol Amroth than they have here in Minas Tirith. I shall see to it,” the man declared.

“Your Father is taking Balroch, and I have already given him enough sums of money to get by well until we arrive, and make a first payment on a house. He will have no worries while he settles. Uncle Linnon was already putting in a word for work for him. The wharfs of Dol Amroth are teeming in trade from all around the world; up and down the Anduin, north to the Havens and south to the Haradwaith. There is all manner of work. A strong man such as him will have people seeking after him to work for them.” Faeldor smiled upon her as he spoke, though at the moment his heart was bitter against the man he spoke of.

“And you and I… Gilwen, let us wait no longer. I know I have said here and there about the wedding. Promises for January, and then for March, but let us make it easier on ourselves. There is no need to wait; our mothers can plan a celebration for any time after we arrive in Belfalas. You will be well when we arrive and will enjoy it. But let us choose December for our marriage; there are only a few days left in the year. I shall be so busy these next months during the days; I am afraid I shall never see you. I am not sure I could bear it. Yet, if we are wed it will be fine, for we shall stay together all the nights. I will not need leave you in the evenings, and keep you warm in your bed. Your mending will be quicker for it, I think. And I will be with my love.”

He did not wait for a response, but climbed upon the bed, sitting himself upon the edge near Gilwen, “And our journey to the sea shall be for the better, for you will then be my family. If you are my wife, no one can take you away from me,” he concluded. He did not need to mention who it was that might do the forcing. In the past there had been more people who wished it, but it seemed now there was just one.

“Fael. There is nothing I want more than to say yes… But I’m not well. I don’t think we could… If…if we can’t… I wouldn’t be yours. Not…not really.”

“It will not be as… romantic… perhaps, as we had imagined,” Faeldor admitted. Indeed, he had imagined, and was quite sure the sweet woman before him had taken to her own imaginings as well, though he knew she would never say it out loud, as modest as she was. Leastways, not without a dose of wine in her system. The remembrance of their outing in the mountains that past spring came to his mind, and his lips curled in smile.

He tried to sound confident as he spoke, as if he knew much of the matters at hand, though he himself was quite as naive as Gilwen when it came to them. He would not have her worry though, for he would never do a thing to force her. She had come with him willingly on their first day… on their first ride upon the plains. She had come willingly into the moonlight cave Fela Isilme with him, and willingly had been all their deeds.

“Yet… we can do what we need… for legalities sake. Nobody would be here with us. We can tell them as we wish, for who would know but us? I would not need touch you, save to hold you warm against me. There would be no shame to have you ride with me upon Lumiel if you need along our journey, and no question as to whether you can sleep upon my arm beneath the stars as we travel.”

Faeldor sighed, touching Gilwen's cheek lightly, and drawing her eyes back to his. “And when you feel well enough, whether that's here or there... when you are ready to be mine, then we can do as we please with no inhibition. Not a moment before you are ready, Gilwen. I promise you. You are my friend, and my love. I will never hurt nor harm you.”