Gilwen, Starlight of Gondor (Dol Amroth)

Character Name: Gilwen

Name Meaning: Starlight Maiden

Age: 25

Date of Birth: September 14, 2985 TA

Race: Man

Residence: She was born and raised in Minas Tirith, though now resides in Belfalas in Dol Amroth.

Profession: She worked all her life as a palace maid, though now keeps the Starlight Inn alongside her husband, Faeldor.

Appearance: She is petite, 5’1”, with dark hair and dark eyes. She has a round face, and a youthful smile when she cares to show it. At the moment she is a little underweight, since she is still recovering from a rather vast illness, but her eyes are starting to shine again. Her body is riddled in scars, all well hidden beneath the clothes she wears. They are wounds from a storm she weathered daily in her home, and she takes great care to make sure none see them. 

The only time she cannot help but have them show is when she is in a bathing dress upon the shore.

Personality: Gilwen is a quiet, timid young woman with a love of her family that goes beyond pure reason. She loves children, and horses, and was both a diligent worker, and too proud to ask for help. She has a strong sense of right and wrong, though will not speak up for herself in the light of abuse. She lives frugally, and appreciates the important things, like the love she has for her husband and the life they are going to have together.

She and her mother have a good relationship, and while she is highly devoted to both of her parents, though it might be obvious to most that her father does not deserve it.

She has rough hands from her years of manual labor, and this causes her great embarrassment, often feeling she isn’t fit to be considered a lovely woman.



Parents: Her father is a soldier named Beregar, her mother is named Niniel.

Extended Family: 

Uncle Bercalion, father's brother.
Aunt Merilwen, Bercalion's wife. 
Landion, cousin. Deceased.
Merilla, cousin. 25.
Verya, cousin. 23.

Sibling(s): None.

Spouse: Faeldor

Children: None

History:

Gilwen was raised as the only daughter to a Gondorian foot-soldier and a hard working woman who took jobs as she could find them. To Gilwen, her childhood was normal, though had any been able to see what happened behind closed doors and away from the eyes of Minas Tirith, they would have said otherwise.

Beregar was a man of great strength and great belief as to what was right and wrong for little girls to do, and Gilwen spent many long hours learning in ways that both frightened her and hurt all the things Beregar wished her to. She was not the only one who was corrected, often followed by an, “I love you.” Niniel also was not exempt from Beregar’s teachings. And there was always a lot to learn.

One of her earliest memories of the White City is living in her home on the first tier with her parents, her aunt and uncle, and their three children. She could remember that things were tight; there was hardly any room to sleep.

Mama did not seem to like Uncle Bercalion or Aunt Merilwen very much, and even at the young age Gilwen carried, she could sense the tension between them. Her eldest cousin, Landion, was five years her senior and often appointed the keeper of she, Merilla, and Verya when the others were out doing their work. Merilla was always one to have a haughty attitude, often bossing Gilwen around though they were the same age. Verya, though, was two years Gilwen’s minor, and a gentle spirit. Maybe it was because she was the baby of the group, but Niniel always seemed to have extra time for her where she could spare it.

Gilwen cannot remember what happened, but one day she came home and Landion was not there, and Mama had told her he would never be there again, and had passed into the Halls of Mandos. After that, things were never the same. Uncle Bercalion and Aunt Merilwen soon left, drawing her cousins with them. Even though Niniel had not liked Gilwen’s aunt and uncle, she was heartbroken when they were gone. It took some time, but they did manage to adjust. The small home seemed bigger, and Gilwen followed Niniel to work every day to assist where she could.

She was taking more money than she was providing, though, and Beregar began to pressure the young girl to look for true vocation at a young age. It was hard to eke a living out, even on the first tier, so Gilwen obediently did. When she was ten, she was old enough to work as a scrubber in the palace of the Steward. Every morning she walked up to the palace, up all of the six tiers, and worked until her shift was ended and she could take her pay and leave.

One day, while she was there, she began to sing alongside a friend. Making noise in the Steward’s hall, though, was not allowed, so the girls were reminded of this and sent home without pay. Beregar was furious when Gilwen came home early, and used some leather to be sure she remembered that such mistakes were unwelcome in his home. Gilwen never lost pay again. She worked silent and hard, and moved from scrubber to launderer, from launderer to servant. Things were going well.

And then, her world shifted.

She met Faeldor for the first time when she was twenty-five, though she had seen him often enough about the stables before that. This time was different. They exchanged names, and went for a ride, Gilwen emboldened by her father’s absence from the city. For a year she met with him in secret, careful not to spend too much time with him, for indeed if her father found out, she knew he would be angry. After a year, though, he managed to convince her to meet his family.

It proved to be the best and worst thing she ever decided to do.

While they grew to love each other, Gilwen’s world crumbled to the machinations of Miriel, Faeldor’s conniving younger sister, and Durion, her diabolical lover. At home things were not so simple either, though it all boiled over when she lost her job for having a reputation so tarnished by rumor, it was no longer considered fit for service to the Steward.

She was kicked out of her home by her father, and too proud to go to Faeldor for help, though perhaps she should have been more willing to do so. It was weeks of no real food, no work, and no shelter, and after a volatile storm weathered upon the streets, Gilwen was very, very ill.

She has since recovered faintly, and is living in Faeldor’s home, marriage soon on the horizon. Miriel has changed her mind upon Gilwen, and Durion is no longer a threat. Perhaps now, the woman is hopeful, her life will once more be peace.

Her father, though, has different ideas.