A Night There Was When Winter Died (Gilwen) {February 3008}
Apr 6, 2018 21:04:57 GMT -5
Post by Faeldor on Apr 6, 2018 21:04:57 GMT -5
“I wouldn't let you fall,” Faeldor answered as he settled into his place. He kept his arm around her, loose, and his body spaced a couple inches back for propriety's sake, though he began to feel an urge within him to close the gap between them. It already seemed, to Faeldor, quite different to sit astride with Gilwen than it was with his sisters.
No. He could not. They had just met, after all, and he did not wish to scare her away. Still it was his hand which settled gently against her, his fingertips pressing against her servant's gown beneath the cloak. He tried to relax, though slipped further down in the saddle, and his other arm pressed against her side as he held the reins.
“Do…I need to…do anything?”
“Oh no, just sit. Lumiel could cross without me even guiding, but… I just need a place to put my hands,” Faeldor chuckled. She was holding onto the saddle horn, which made her to lean forward a slight. Not exactly fine riding posture, though he said nothing to correct her. He could sense the unease in her voice and manner.
He gave Lumiel a little heel, and she started forward stepping lightly and splashing into the stream, and the waters rose around her ankles. Faeldor felt Gilwen stiffen, and even as he slid slightly in the saddle with the tilt of the bank, he felt Gilwen slide backwards, but moreso, her shoulders and her back pressed into his chest. Instinctively he gripped her more tightly.
“Just hold my arm,” he said gently, loosing the rein and reaching forward to pry her white knuckled fingers off the saddlehorn and press them onto his sleeve as the glistening water rolled beneath them. “You're safe with me, and the water is not deep. You could stand in it with no trouble, I daresay. Though this is not the most refreshing time of year for it. It's cold from the snows in the mountains. The horses like the cold though. They don't mind it at all… horses run hotter than humans. You'd think they had a fever if you took their temperature, but it's just what they are… all those muscles beneath their hair keeps them warm.”
He'd hardly had time to finish his talking before they'd reached the other side of the river, Thissel trailing behind with no difficulty. She stepped lightly, seeming pleased to be upon the plain without her Master weighting her down, and dipping her head down to nibble the bits of green grass that were beginning to poke through the browns of winter. Faeldor had turned to watch her for a moment, and look back to the silver water flowing.
Gilwen seemed still quite stiff, and he wondered at it, though realized that it was quite a lot to take in at once. To leave the city walls and come upon the plain to cross the river when all one had done was make circles in a corral.
“Have you ever ridden at night? Do you want me to stay with you?” he wondered aloud. He could move back to Thissel of course, but the night was going to be darkening upon them soon, and if she feared to cross the river perhaps the same would be true of riding in the dimming light. It was no bad thing to have a fear of so much newness. Lumiel knew the way and now that they had crossed the river the trees that she had wished to see would be not so much further ahead, and beyond that, the path which he wished to take her on. They still had a good time before the moon would rise.
No. He could not. They had just met, after all, and he did not wish to scare her away. Still it was his hand which settled gently against her, his fingertips pressing against her servant's gown beneath the cloak. He tried to relax, though slipped further down in the saddle, and his other arm pressed against her side as he held the reins.
“Do…I need to…do anything?”
“Oh no, just sit. Lumiel could cross without me even guiding, but… I just need a place to put my hands,” Faeldor chuckled. She was holding onto the saddle horn, which made her to lean forward a slight. Not exactly fine riding posture, though he said nothing to correct her. He could sense the unease in her voice and manner.
He gave Lumiel a little heel, and she started forward stepping lightly and splashing into the stream, and the waters rose around her ankles. Faeldor felt Gilwen stiffen, and even as he slid slightly in the saddle with the tilt of the bank, he felt Gilwen slide backwards, but moreso, her shoulders and her back pressed into his chest. Instinctively he gripped her more tightly.
“Just hold my arm,” he said gently, loosing the rein and reaching forward to pry her white knuckled fingers off the saddlehorn and press them onto his sleeve as the glistening water rolled beneath them. “You're safe with me, and the water is not deep. You could stand in it with no trouble, I daresay. Though this is not the most refreshing time of year for it. It's cold from the snows in the mountains. The horses like the cold though. They don't mind it at all… horses run hotter than humans. You'd think they had a fever if you took their temperature, but it's just what they are… all those muscles beneath their hair keeps them warm.”
He'd hardly had time to finish his talking before they'd reached the other side of the river, Thissel trailing behind with no difficulty. She stepped lightly, seeming pleased to be upon the plain without her Master weighting her down, and dipping her head down to nibble the bits of green grass that were beginning to poke through the browns of winter. Faeldor had turned to watch her for a moment, and look back to the silver water flowing.
Gilwen seemed still quite stiff, and he wondered at it, though realized that it was quite a lot to take in at once. To leave the city walls and come upon the plain to cross the river when all one had done was make circles in a corral.
“Have you ever ridden at night? Do you want me to stay with you?” he wondered aloud. He could move back to Thissel of course, but the night was going to be darkening upon them soon, and if she feared to cross the river perhaps the same would be true of riding in the dimming light. It was no bad thing to have a fear of so much newness. Lumiel knew the way and now that they had crossed the river the trees that she had wished to see would be not so much further ahead, and beyond that, the path which he wished to take her on. They still had a good time before the moon would rise.