Chapter 9: "To the arms that love me the best"
Gilmith ran through the streets of the city, clutching at her cloak, the hood pulled up, paying little attention to her steps and ignoring the curious glances from those she rushed by, aware only of her final destination. Light was fading – the streets began to change around her, causing an uneasy sense of foreboding.
Her pace quickened frantically.
When eventually she reached the courtyard of her father's house, she finally came to a shuddering stop. Her breathing laboured from the frantic activity, she wanted to lean against the outer wall to steady herself, but seeing a few people were milling about the yard, going about their usual business, she quickly and silently slipped unnoticed through a small archway to the side that lead to the gardens.
A stone bench under a large overhanging tree provided a welcome sanctuary. Gilmith sat under its protective canopy, drew her knees up to her chin, her arms wrapped around her legs, and bent her head into her body to muffle the sound of her weeping.
Question after question plagued her. Why had he done it? How could she have been so blind? Did he care anything for her at all other than for mercenary gains? She thought desperately over every word, every look that she had cherished throughout their courtship, trying to identify any sign of falsehood. But, try as she might, she just could not reconcile the Istaeron that she had fallen in love with to the false-hearted man she married. She felt blinded, ridiculous and naive, and flinched inwardly at how easy it must have been for him to hoodwink her. What a truly misguided and pathetic creature she must be! How he must have laughed at her foolishness and the easiness, with which she was deceived.
Her fingers gripped painfully into the flesh of her thighs as she hugged herself. Oh, how she needed her mother now! She needed Mithrellas' guidance, strength, understanding, and that comforting warmth that mothers inherently provide. And, perhaps selfishly, but more understandably, she wanted Mithrellas to tell her what she should do – how to act, and what to reveal and to whom. For what should she do now? She had discovered the truth and ran away from her deceitful husband, but had no idea where next to go. Had her mother been there she would have known exactly what to do.
However, no such guidance was there for Gilmith. Her father and brother surely had their own problems to deal with, and she was loath to burden them with hers. So the decisions would be down to her own, clearly judgement. Imrazôr would provide sanctuary for her if she needed it, but for how long? Would she truly be allowed to abandon her marriage, even if the terrible truth was revealed? She supposed that she would have to face Istaeron sooner or later, but she could not bear the thought, sure that despite her own feelings, once they met again he would be able to weaken her resolve. Certain that, even with the knowledge she now had, one kind word from him would have her stupid, foolish heart blinded yet again.
"Gilmith?" The familiar voice pulled her sharply out of her melancholic introspection. "What are you doing here?"
She looked up to see Galador standing above, his arms folded imposingly across his body. She had not heard him approach, nor noticed how dark it had become. The moon was high in the sky behind his form, casting a long shadow across her. Straightening herself a little in her seat, she put her feet down to rest on the grass, folder her hands in her lap and tried to look as composed as possible.
"I… I have returned, Brother… for the foreseeable future." She could feel her lip start to quiver again so she ducked her head down quickly. "I thought it would be best…"
Crouching down on his haunches in front of her, Galador lifted up her chin to examine her blotched cheeks and puffy eyes.
"Did you, now?" His brow furrowed contemplatively. "It is usual then, I suppose, for a young woman to leave her husband the very day after they wed?"
His voice was calm and implacable, if a little edged with sarcasm, his hold firm on her chin, exposing all the visible signs of distress that Gilmith was failing to conceal.
"I…" she mumbled, unable to match his scrutiny. Her lip quivered more forcefully as a few tears escaped down her face.
With a muttered oath, Galador took a gentle hold of her shoulders as he bent his head to make his eyesight level with her own, searching her eyes.
"What did he do, Gilmith? Did he harm you in any way?"
When she remained silent, his grip tightened as he shook her shoulder slightly.
"Tell me, Sister! If he has done anything to distress you, I swear he will come to regret it."
But, despite the urgency and anger in his voice, Gilmith could not answer him. She could do nothing but give way to her body's violent trembling, and, as a noisy sob escaped her lips, she fell forward into the protective warmth of her brother's body, clinging on to him tightly as the floodgate once again opened to her tears.
Galador stood up, pulling her gently to her feet, wrapped his arms around her and murmured soft words into her hair, cajoling her to tell him the cause of her tears, assuring her that he would take care of it all.
Gilmith clung to him and listened, comforted by his words, but unable to explain the situation to him. She had come back to her father's house after only a day of marriage – it was too painful, too raw and humiliating to have to expose herself over such cruel folly. She simply wanted to forget. Oh, Valar! How she just wanted the wrenching pain to stop!
She pressed her face into Galador's shoulder, unconsciously shaking her head in silent negation. Galador was always so strong – unlike herself. He would never allow anyone to get the better of him, to deceive him so severely. He was always so calm and thoughtful, even under pressure. Here he was now, holding her, protecting her even through his own grief, and all she could do was to weep! Such comparison between them shamed her. He was capable, sensible and tough, whereas she was weak! So wretched and useless! She detested herself for her folly and Istaeron for exposing her to it.
Perhaps that was precisely how she had been so easily won over by her husband, so easily cheated. Istaeron was of the same mould as her brother – determined, self-assured and controlled – and perhaps she had always felt she needed that — someone strong and capable enough to look after, and make decisions for a pathetic, foolish girl like her.
"Foolish, foolish, foolish," she whispered. Repeating the word over and over her voice grew louder, and without realising she lifted her hand and thumped it repeatedly against Galador's chest – hitting out at him blindly – each word punctuated by a slam of her fist .
Galador, alarmed at first, allowed it for a few moments, before taking hold of her hands. He gently shackled them in front of her, high against his chest, securing them both in one of his own large palms, whilst his free arm went around Gilmith's waist to steady her.
"Gilmith," Galador said once she seemed to calm a little. "Please tell me what has happened to hurt you so much. If it is something Istaeron has done, then he and I shall have words." He lifted her face up to his again, looking down at her earnestly. "He will make amends to you, Sister, I promise you that."
He was wrong to think this idea would sooth Gilmith. Instead, she clung to him tighter, burying her face further into his chest, then she shook her head vehemently in denial.
"No! Please... please, you must not!"
Galador could feel her trembling against him when she stammered her plea; he could hear the panic and dread in her voice.
"It is not what you think, I just... I cannot see him. Please! Do not make me do that... Not that."
Galador held her for a long time, gently rocking her in his arms, a forbidding expression on his face. Never had he seen his sister in such a state. Earlier that day, yes, she had been greatly distressed by news of their mother, but nothing like this – not almost to the point of hysteria.
"Very well," he murmured eventually. "I see we were wrong to entrust him with your care if he has brought you so much distress. I swear to you, I will not allow him to do so again."
His arms tightened around her fractionally for a moment before her let her go, moving one arm around her shoulder to support her.
"Come, Sister, let us get you inside."
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A/N: I apologise that it has been so long since my last update. RL, family, work -- the usual stuff -- all got in the way. However, I have lots more time now so the chapters should be coming a lot more regularly. Chapter 10 is practically done and 11 has been started.