Thrill and Thrall {Narbeleth, Calon, Gilwen} [March 3010]

“It's after hours,” Narbeleth stated firmly from her seat behind her brother. “The Doctor won't see patients this time of day.”

Faeldor's brow ridged and he turned to look to his sister, “But you said we'd go straight to--”

Narbeleth gasped and reached a hand around her brother, clamping over his mouth, which finally seemed to make him catch on to matters at hand..

One of the guards nodded, catching Narbeleth's eye, and then looking to Faeldor pointedly. “We'll summon the Doctor in the morning. He's worked a long day already. Doesn't do examinations of the sort at night.”

“She's not going to be examined,” Faeldor said, horrified at the idea.

“Master Faeldor, if he has ordered it you must comply, you shall have your wife at the Healing House in White Town for an examination by two hours past sunrise tomorrow. If you do not arrive promptly on time, we will have to send some of the mounted guards to your home to collect her,” the guard put in, hoping that would settle he matter. A night's time should be plenty to make sure the man had fulfilled his duty as husband, and she'd come to no harm of the examination.

“Why are you idling about here? The archives are closed,” Arandur stated brusquely as he stepped out of the tower door, locking it tight with a large skeleton key, his lantern now in hand. “Stayed open late enough tonight already, my wife is waiting at home.”

The guard nodded promptly to Arandur. There was no chance of an annulment going on record tonight, it was certain. “Where will you be staying?” he asked, looking to Faeldor and Narbeleth.

“The household of Linnon son of Lord Calaeron,” Narbeleth answered quickly.

“Oh, Linnon the shipwright,” one of the guards muttered, looking somewhat relieved. It was well known by all of the guards he held one of the largest and wealthiest estates north of the city. They should easily be able to hire what care the girl needed.

“Take your women home for the night,” the guard dismissed the riders, and several guards took Beregar's position into account as they moved to let the horses pass back down the cliff road blocking any attempt the drunken man might make to still them. The horses plodded forth, both the children of Faelon glaring at Beregar as they passed and made way down the cliff.

“Must we really ride like this? I can carry her,” Faeldor grumbled.

“Yes, you are not well. You've take enough knocks to the head today, I need to keep an eye on you. You never minded riding with me before, brother,” Narbeleth answered, her own voice bitter. If she kept herself in a state of anger, she could at least make it to Linnon's house before she descended into tears.

“Well that was before you married him.” Faeldor was not inclined to comment on the way he had come across his sister and brother-in-law earlier in their home. He did not wish to think on his sister in such a way.

“Stars above, I'm still your sister.”

“Believe me, I wouldn't mind changing places with Gilwen if you were well enough to take her. I would love to be in Calon's arms, myself.”

Faeldor cringed, “Don't talk like that.”

“Whyever not?” Narbeleth asked. “You have a wife now too, brother. And you will need get used to me having a husband. A strong husband who you now owe plenty. You best treat him well.”

“You're my younger sister, you have no authority--” Faeldor started

“Do you want me to change places with Calon? I could hold Gilwen fast myself.” Narbeleth would not have minded helping Gilwen back to her family's home. She might talk to her, or even sing to comfort her. “My love could hold you. Wouldn't that be a fine ride, brother? I can't say it would be fair to the horse, however.”


As the street widened near the bottom of the cliff Narbeleth heeled Lumiel more quickly to move beside Calon and Gilwen. “We'll see you at my Uncle's house, Gilly. You're in safe arms with my Calon. He'll take you to Mama, and we'll come soon behind with the doctor for you. Aunt Ivren will have a warm bed for you tonight. Close your eyes and rest.”

“Gilwen, love,” Faeldor muttered, looking toward her pale face with a frown, though he had no more words for the moment. He only wished to wrap her safe in his own arms. He shot Calon a look of displeasure. “Make sure she gets there safe.” Narbeleth sighed and heeled Lumiel into a canter, whistling for Thissel to follow behind as they made for White Town.

“The doctor will be happy to do the examination first thing in the morning, I assure you. I will head to him directly and let him know. Now, do take care of your affairs, sir.”

“I'm coming with you first,” Thoron pointed to the guard. His eyes were near popping out of his head. “I'll see if he's really closed down for the night. That man who bought my horses said he'd work any hour! He'll go out to that Linnon's home now and give the exam.”

The guard sighed, “You can come, but you will not be able to force Doctor Orelion out for an exam. You may as well wait for the morning--”

“Doctor what?” Beregar questioned.

“Doctor Orelion . He's the only one in White Town, unless you wanted to see his Father,” the guard offered.

“Orelion … son of Doctor Ladrengilon?” Thoron questioned, his jaw pinching.

“The same one,” the guard replied. “The family's had the business for years.”

“I want a different doctor. I demand a different one! Orelion won't be seeing my daughter,” Thoron raged.

“He was the Doctor you requested in the first place,” the guard stated rather bluntly. “He has charge of the Healing House in the city. There isn't a better one. The order's already been made, it is not going to change now.”

“Fine! You see to him yourself!” Thoron spat. Feeling suddenly nervous, he wheeled around in the street to start down the cliff road for the Middle Port again. If Iulion was the only option, it seemed he and Ioreth would be the only ones leaving on the ship at daybreak. It seemed Faeldor was going to win Morwen, but he would not lose Ioreth as well.

–

The streets were clearing in the darkening hour, and the light of the moon was enough to get Faeldor, Narbeleth, and the two horses quickly back to White Town. In retrospect, it was good that Narbeleth had taken the lead for the doctor, for he had no idea where to look himself.

They passed by The Quarry. Nabeleth hardly gave it a glance, but Faeldor stared after it for some moments remembering his earlier encounter with Calon's fist. His head was throbbing.

As they came upon the Houses of Healing, Narbeleth stoped the horses in the street and slipped down in haste. “Fael, stay here. I will be right back.”

“Hello?” she called as she stepped into the torchlit stone entryway. “Is anyone here?”

Quick paced footsteps came from a side room, “What can I help you with?” a woman asked quickly. The voice seemed to be masking fear, and the young healer was expecting there was another patient on the way.

“I need a doctor to make a house call. There's a woman very ill… she might be dying. I need someone to come with me. Is Doctor Orelion free?” Narbeleth asked.

“We could send a nurse, or one of the midwives on call?” the healer offered calmly.

Narbeleth shook her head, her heart beat rising. “I'm a midwife myself, but I'm afraid I don't have the skill. She isn't well off… we really need--”

“Oh, it's you, Bel,” Ladrengilon said, wiping his hands on a towel as he stepped into the entry. He was the Warden of the Houses of Healing in Dol Amroth; a well practiced doctor. Dark of hair and eye, yet smaller stature. He stood only a few inches taller than Narbeleth herself. “Well what's wrong, dear? Is it one of your patients?”

“Oh no,” Narbeleth answered quickly. “It's her. It's Gilwen, my friend from Minas Tirith. We've found her and--”

“You found the girl?” Ladrengilon's voice fell to a hush. “I didn't expect...” he started knowingly, though stilled himself, then turned quickly to grasp the doorframe that led to the back rooms where the patients were housed. “Orelion!” he called down the hall. “Orelion!” Ladrengilon turned back quickly to Narbeleth. “Where is she? Do you have her with you?” Ladrengilon asked quickly.

Faeldor entered the doorway at this moment. “No we had to get her out of the city. She's off to my Uncle Linnon's home with my… sister's husband.”

“Can Doctor Orelion come out to the country tonight?” Narbeleth asked.

“He's in the middle of an operation,” one of the young healer answered. “I don't think--”

“It's urgent,” Faeldor added quickly, his voice lowering. “We need someone right now, my wife--” Faeldor started.

Narbeleth held her hand up to him.“Stop, Fael. Don't be--” she began, trying to take as much charge of the situation as she could. Faeldor was frantic, and she'd wished he would have sat atop the horse and waited as she had asked of him.

Faeldor ignored her, and stepped past his sister continuing. “Her Father nearly killed her… She's been starved, beaten, bit by rats, sold to men… I don't know what else… She's dying, we need someone tonight. Right now.”

“He had her drinking some tonic… a poison I'm worried,” Narbeleth added.

Ladrengilon's eyes widened. “I'll come,” he answered, before Faeldor had time to finish.

“You?” the young healer asked, astounded.

“We have an extra horse,” Narbeleth added.

“Good, we won't have to take my son's then,” Ladrengilon answered. “Let me get my bag together.” He set off in a jog down the hall, the healer behind him.

“Orelion, your father is going out,” the healer turned from the hall into the cold stone room where Orelion was working on a fisherman who was passed out drunk. He had tripped over the nets on his boat and nearly lost his foot the way he landed on that gaff hook and sliced it.

“Going out? Why… what's wrong?” Orelion asked quickly looking up. The last time Ladrengilon had made any call outside of the Houses of Healing had been nigh on ten years ago when a ship had caught fire just outside the harbor and dozens of burned and half drowned people had been hauled onto the docks. His Father all but lived in the Houses. He had his own chambers set up in the far back corner, and he had been this way for over twenty-five years. His family home sat abandoned in the city. Cursed... it was said.

“They found that girl from the White City,” the healer said. “It sounds like she's in... poor state.”

Orelion took a deep breath, “He did get invested in that story... I'm surprised they found her. I'm nearly done here, but if he wants to go… the better for him.”

The healer nodded.

–

“Linnon!”

A loud call rang out from the doorstep of the House of Linnon, and at once the activity inside diminished and a flurry of feet started for the door.

“I have it!” Linnon answered with a smile, recognizing the voice. “Don't overwhelm the boy now, let me get it.” He had been waiting all afternoon for his nephew to come home that they might make plans for a proper sort of search, though when he had not come, he was at least taking pleasure in the rest of his brother's family. Little Haliel had of course quickly won his heart.

“That will be Calon,” Ullothel smiled, looking to her Aunt. “I know that voice.”

“Oh and my baby,” Meleth gleamed, leaping from her seat with a laugh to follow Linnon. Despite the circumstances, and how embittered Tinuves was going to be when she realized what had happened, Meleth was not going to chastise. They'd done what was right, and gotten married. Her daughter would be happy.

“He didn't sound very bright as usual, why is he knocking at all? Beleth usually rushes in here dragging him like a sail caught in a tempest,” Sulwen drawled.

“I'm surprised he hasn't lost his arm in all these months yet,” Limbes laughed.

“As if she could damage those massive arms,” Arrasel giggled.

“Why would she want to?” Ullothel pointed out.

“I know I wouldn't want to,” Arrasel added.

“Girls, giiiirls,” Ivren chided. “You can't talk about your cousin's husband that way. She won't want to bring him around if you keep it up.”

“Oh, she knows we're jesting, aside, we don't say it in front of them,” Arrasel answered her mother.

“You, might not say it, but he sees how you look at him,” Daehel argued. “You'll make him uncomfortable, and Beleth will notice as well.”

“Beleth didn't notice the way Remy looked at her for months,” Sulwen noted.

“If it's Calon, she'll notice,” Daehel shook her head and started toward the entry to give her cousins the proper greetings before her sisters had a chance.

–

“Well, Calon,” Linnon started as he opened the door.

“Calon!” Meleth near sang from the hall. Her new son. While she had never expected Narbeleth to be the first of her children to wed, she would bring him into the family with open arms. “And where's my girl?” she laughed as she came around the door. “Oh!”

Linnon was standing shocked still in the doorway, looking at the emaciated woman in Calon's arms. “Iv-Ivren!” he called, turning quickly and running down the hall. He nearly crashed into Daehel on her way out of the sitting room.

“Gilwen, oh Gilwen,” Meleth gasped, looking at her and reaching to touch her cheek. “Oh sweetheart, what happened?” Her eyes were wide a she looked up to Calon's face. “Did you see Faeldor? Where's my Beleth?”

Daehel came forth to the entry, a hand over her mouth. “That's Gilwen? Bring her this way,” she ushered quickly up the stairs to the room that had been set aside for Faeldor to stay in til the first of the spring.

Meleth made a rush for the opposite side of the bed as Calon tucked Gilwen beneath the covers, taking a hand lightly upon her forehead. “You've a fever,” she muttered to herself, and sighed. “Not as high as last time thankfully but...” she trailed off. She looked far worse than last time. She looked as if she had not eaten since she'd left her home in Minas Tirith. She looked as if she was on the verge of heading off to the Halls of Mandos. Meleth's heart clenched. “It will be all right,” she whispered, letting a hand softly over her dingy hair.

“Close your eyes and rest, you’ll need your energies for when Faeldor gets here.”

“What's going on up here?” Arrasel laughed as she eyed Calon. “Are you two staying the night too then? I thought Faeldor was taking this room. Oh!” Arrasel startled at the sight of the young woman in the bed.

“Shh… It's Faeldor's Gilwen,” Daehel told her.

“Meleth, a…a word?”

“Just a moment, sweetheart,” Meleth said to Calon, and then turned to her nieces. “Limbes, I need hot water. Ullothel, a pitcher of cold water. Daehel… I think, a cup of warm milk for her. Sulwen, some cloths and towels. Limbes, get Calon some tea.”

Haliel's double arm crutches had taken her as quickly as possible clicking down the hallway. She'd heard the commotion, and Calon's name on her cousin's lips, and was certain it meant that Beleth was here!

“No, no, no Hali,” Daehel tried to stop her before she came into the room, but Faelon burst in at about the same moment beneath her other arm almost sending her off balance.

“Beleth!” Faelon shouted gleefully into the room at near the same time Haliel shouted the same, though there was shortly a great gasp let out by Faelon.

“Gilwen!” Haliel screamed. A brief joy at the sight of her turning to horror when she saw her state. Meleth's arms were wide. “Out! Out!” she started, scooping a child in each and pushing them back toward the doorway. Marileth was looking around her, eyes first wide at seeing Calon, and then a look of despair on her face at the sight of Gilwen.

“Linnon!” Meleth called down the hall as she saw her brother-in-law taking the stairs two by two as Ivren rushed behind. “Take the children out!”

The children were hastened off, and each of the five cousins set to their assignments as Ivren bustled into the room, her lips pressed a thin line. She had about every healing remedy from her cupboard in a case under her arm and set it out, and she moved to the edge of the bed to check Gilwen's temperature herself. She was shocked at the sight of the woman. She had expected the small stature from the descriptions she'd been given, yet she had never seen anyone in such a poor state. She let a stern face hide her thoughts though as she glanced first to Meleth and then back down to Gilwen.

“Daehel said Beleth has the doctor on the way? We'll just get you comfortable then. Keep your eyes closed and rest. I'm Faeldor's Aunt Ivren, and you're welcome here,” she offered, if the girl could hear her at all.

Meleth stood in the doorway wringing her hands for a moment, then turned as if having forgotten something. “Calon.” She crossed back to him.

“And you've been fighting,” Meleth muttered knowingly, looking over him and trying to assess the damage to his cheek. She could see the darkening indentations of knuckles within the larger bruise that had formed. She reached to feel along his cheek and jaw, and the bridge of his nose. Nothing seemed quite out of place. His face seemed flushed itself, so her fingers went to his own forehead to check him for fever. “Not hot,” she muttered, glancing back to the bed with Gilwen on it, then taking the young man by the arm and pulling him from the room to the hall. “What happened?”

“Do I get to go now?”

“Oh no, we'll keep you here as long as you need,” Ivren answered Gilwen. “Don't even worry about it, close your eyes.”

“Faeldor was unhappy I saw fit to take his sister as my wife. Stormed off—came back saying he had found Gilwen. Seems we’d been asking around with the wrong name. She’s calling herself Morwen—”

Meleth's expression dimmed further. Of course... Faeldor would have been upset when he had heard the news. He had left that mark upon Calon's cheek though? She would need a word later with her son it seemed, if Calon were family this type of fighting was not going to be tolerated, and Faeldor should know better. Now was not the time to address it however. “Morwen...” Meleth muttered, the name strange on her lips.

“The confounded house was unfit for rats. I’ve never seen—” She put a comforting hand upon Calon's arm, though as he continued in explanation through broken words, Meleth found the man providing her own support more than she was offering comfort. His words had become darker and darker; far beyond the lighter matters of scuffling with Faeldor. She glanced back to Gilwen. No wonder she looked as if death were waiting for her.

“You did what you could.” Her eyes were dull. To think all of this had happened while the girl should have been under her care and well along in her recovery now.

“Aunt, the milk,” Daehel said as she moved back toward them, a warm glass in hand. Linnon had already been heating some for the children so it had been easy enough to come by, and Daehel overheard most of Calon's words. She had a bit of a dazed expression upon her face.

Meleth looked away from Calon. “Let's sit her up, Ivren. She needs to drink before she rests.” They moved quickly to help prop her up and begin to get the warm liquid within her.



--


Faeldor's mood had darkened upon the long stretch of road, holding himself stiffly in saddle, he lost himself to maddened thoughts and bitterness. He could feel his heart pulsing in the veins of his neck and his jaw was clenched so tight that his teeth were gritting together. Narbeleth, having now the chance to sit and think, had also lost herself to her own mind, and her tears broke through the front she had been trying to keep all the evening. She slumped in her seat and pressed her face against Faeldor's back, though neither of them acknowledged each other.

The light of hearth and lantern and candle could be seen flickering from the many rooms as the horses and riders came upon the house of Linnon. Faeldor saw the house and slowed the horses before Narbeleth had even realized they arrived. They had been pressing more quickly than was good for Lumiel at least riding double, but the horse would forgive them and have a good rest not long thereafter. The moon was rising overhead, reflecting off the great expanse of sea that had appeared in and out as they coursed over hills and broke through trees.

“Faeldor!” Narbeleth gasped as her brother leapt from the horse and lost his balance, falling right upon the ground. She had caught heavily against his leg and boot when he flung himself over the saddle and tumbled right after him in a heap, the wind knocked out of her lungs. “Slow--” But he did not listen and had taken off at a run for the front steps and already thrown the door open as she sat up in the grass.

“He's liable to harm more than he helps in that state,” Ladrengilon paused, offering his hand.

“Don't I know it,” Narbeleth gasped, groaning in pain, her hand flying to her forehead after Ladrengilon had pulled her to her feet. The light was too dim for her to see anything on her hand, but she felt the sticky warmth of blood and pressed her hand back against her forehead to still the flow of it. “You'll need to have a look at his head later, I think,” she added. “My husband nearly knocked him out twice today. He's not in his right mind… usually more… sensible.” The young woman had a notion in mind that Faeldor had likely not been in a right state since the day Gilwen had been taken from the home in Minas Tirith to begin with.

“And yours too, I think... I pity the fool who fights with a blacksmith,” Ladrengilon shook his head. He had never been in a fight, though he had cleaned up after many.

The large home loomed before them, and once Narbeleth had gained her breath, she took them to the door. Listing to the doctor more of what she already knew of Gilwen's condition, which she had not wished to repeat aloud in front of her brother.

Limbes was halfway up the stairs with the basin on hot water in hand when they entered. “Your brother near knocked me over and scalded us both,” she frowned as the doctor was led up the stairway.

As they entered the room, the multitude of ladies was mingling about. The water was getting settled on a table that had been moved. Meleth and Ivren were hovering near the bed as Ivren attempted to get Gilwen to sip down the small cup of milk, while Faeldor had seated himself on the edge beside Gilwen and was lightly raking his fingers through her hair and muttering soft words of endearment down to her.

“Out now. We'll need some peace in here. I'll only need a hand or two to help,” Ladrengilon announced as he took in the scene. His high clear voice and small stature were not commanding on their own, but he spoke with authority. His eyes were fixed on Gilwen. She looked as if she could be a child tucked into the large bed as she was, though she fit the description that he had been given those weeks past by Narbeleth… in fact, she fit the image that had been painted in his mind near exactly, with the exception of her frail features. So alike it was startling.

“Lad,” Ivren said, his name coming in a sigh of relief. He was not the doctor she had expected to come in the least, yet he was well known in the city, in the Houses and with the number of children she had needed take in for care in her days, she knew him well enough. “I'll… get some more tea,” she stated handing the milk to Faeldor. The room was unsettling here, and she did not wish to be present anymore than most of her daughter's did as they cleared out.

“Oh,” Meleth startled, looking up. “Ladrengilon.” The name was familiar to her; though she had never taken need to go to the Houses, certainly her brothers had, and he had always been well spoken of in the city.

“Just Lad is fine, dear,” Ladrengilon stated. “You must be Bel's mother.” Ladrengilon noted the resemblance as she started to open the healer's kit he had brought with him, nodding in approval at the other remedies that Ivren had set out before his arrival.

Narbeleth stood planted in the doorway, a hand still against her forehead, only moving aside to allow the other women out. She noted Calon looking forlorn, but her eyes had trailed back to Gilwen. She could not decide which scene was more distressing… the one earlier having first seen Gilwen slumped and blending in against the wall in the filthy, rat-infested shack on the wharf… or seeing her now in the luxurious bedroom, her face a stark contrast to all her surroundings. She felt her chest tightening.

Daehel caught Narbeleth's arm.“Are you all right?” she asked. Narbeleth's face and skirt were streaked halfway with mud and she could see blood dripping down the side of her face. It was apparent she had been crying. After hearing that her cousin had dragged Gilwen out of the despicable house Calon had mentioned, she wondered if she'd come up against the Father as well.

“I'm fine, I only fell off the horse,” Narbeleth muttered.

Meleth noted her daughter for the first time, and gasped. “You fell off a horse in your condition? What about the baby?” The mother flew to her, looking her slender form over in first despair and then confusion. Meleth's eyes shot back to Calon and then to her daughter, her hand pressing over Narbeleth's stomach.

“Did you lose the baby, sweetheart?” Meleth asked sorrowfully.

Ladrengilon himself looked up beyond the thin glass vial he was holding. He had not realized the young woman had been with child himself. He had not been looking closely when she had come into the Houses. Now the mother was blocking his view of her. “Get her to a bed,” he ordered. “It was a rough fall, make sure she isn't bleeding.”

“Her face bleeding is all I see,” Daehel muttered.

Faeldor was wide eyed, finally his attention having been drawn up from Gilwen, and Ladrengilon glared at him, having a mind to order him out of the room before he did anything else foolish.

“I'm not with child,” Narbeleth stated quickly, realizing what all the eyes looking upon her were inferring. She glanced toward Calon, her face flustered, and then tugged her arm from Daehel's grasp, skirting around her Mother and off to Gilwen's bedside.

“I didn't mean to knock you off the horse,” Faeldor muttered glancing toward Narbeleth's stomach, embarrassed that he had not stopped to help her up. He had been desperate to get to Gilwen, and he was beginning to admit to himself that he did not feel well either.

“It doesn't matter,” Narbeleth stated, reaching for Gilwen's frail hand. “Just tend to Gilwen.”

Faeldor sat still staring upon his sister, and Narbeleth eyes moved back to him again, astounded. “Stop looking at me like that. There is no baby. I think I'd know above all people.” As Ladrengilon moved toward the bed he eyed Narbeleth himself, but it seemed she knew what she was talking about so he said no more. Narbeleth let Gilwen's hand back to the bed and moved out of the way, skittering off around to the end of it, gripping the bedpost with one hand.

“Beleth, let me see to that cut,” Meleth floundered in confusion, but Narbeleth waved her back, her eyes fixed on Gilwen.

“Gilwen,” the doctor started slowly. The name was odd upon his lips. “I'm Lad. I'll get you started back to feeling better here.” He was not so positive mentally, but he kept his voice light for the girl.

“Now I have some questions for you. Keep your answers short so you don't use your energy, but I need you to tell me plainly. What tonics were you taking in your… Father's home? And how long have you been taking them?”