Chapter 10: "I'm right there with you. I can match your pain"

It was not long before Galador had to enforce his promise to Gilmith. Early the next morning, he headed straight to the gatehouse to give necessary instruction to the warden, should Istaeron decide to come looking for his absentee wife.

Unfortunately, he was a little too late. His brother-in-law had already arrived, had been shown through the gate and was making his way across the courtyard as Galador approached.

"Galador!" Istaeron surged forward when he caught sight of him. He was clearly agitated, and judging from his heavy breathing, Galador would guess that he had been running at a fast pace all the way from his household.

"Is she here? Is Gilmith here?"

"She is," Galador replied quietly, sending Istaeron a chilling look, at which most men would have paled. His shoulders squared and he brought himself to his full height when he faced his brother-in-law.

Istaeron's face lit, and an audible sigh of relief at this news escaped him, but he failed to notice Galador's rigid stance.

"Thank Elbereth." He ran his shaky hand over his brow. "When she left without a word to anyone, I feared that in her present condition she might put herself at risk. Where is she?"

The words came out in an almost frantic rush, and without waiting for a reply he started to walk hurriedly towards the house.

Galador, instead of moving aside, stepped in front, blocking Istaeron's path.

"She is being well taken care of." His voice was decidedly cool as he stood stiff, glaring at Istaeron, daring him to contradict.

"I do not doubt it," frowned Istaeron, disconcerted, "but I shall judge her state for myself."

There was an ominous pause.

Like a cat playing cruelly with a mouse to be eaten, Galador remained silent for a moment before offhandedly replying, "That will not be necessary."

Istaeron's head reared back as if Galador had dealt him a blow. The look on his face seemed indignation mingled with surprise.

"What is all this nonsense? Step aside, Galador, I wish to see Gilmith." Istaeron tried to push past once again, but Galador intercepted him, barring his way with the bulk of his body.

"Gilmith arrived here last night in a terrible condition," Galador stated coldly. "Am I to understand that you are here now because you have only just discovered that she was missing?"

Istaeron's look sharpened at the implied accusation.

"She was greatly upset when I brought her home yesterday. And exhausted. I..." He sighed, and his eyes flicked to the ground for a brief moment. "I did not wish to disturb her. She had made it clear, at the time, that company was the last thing she desired."

He straightened, giving Galador a determined look. "I only discovered that she was gone this morning and, as you can imagine, I was extremely concerned."

"Perhaps not enough, considering that she was able to leave your house unnoticed, even in the state she was in," Galador mocked. "Some might say that was incredibly careless of you, Istaeron."

Istaeron's jaw hardened.

"Are you implying that I cannot take care of my wife?" he gritted out through his teeth.

Both men stood glaring at one another; each raised to his full stature as they squared against each other – both of their tempers barely restrained. It was a battle of wills – and not one that Galador intended to lose. He had the upper hand; Istaeron was on enemy territory, and from the look of him, he was uncertain of his standing.

Was he embarrassed about his behaviour towards Gilmith? Or did he simply not expect any resistance?

"As I said before, Gilmith was greatly distressed when she came here yesterday. She obviously knew that she would be well cared for by her family." Galador's voice remained infuriatingly cool and taunting.

"I am her husband!" Istaeron roared; his whole body pulsed with frustration.

"Yet, she left your house and sought sanctuary here. Why would she have done that without cause?"

For a moment, Istaeron looked flummoxed. A deep frown marked his face as he stepped back a little, drawing in a heavy, steadying breath. His hand gripped the back of his neck in an exasperated gesture.

"I have been forbearing enough," he said finally, aiming for calm in his tone. "I realise that this is a difficult time for you at present, Galador — that you are understandably not yourself – but I will speak with my wife now," he added determinedly.

"My sister," replied Galador slowly, with a heavy emphasis on the relationship, "has made it very clear that she has no wish to see you. I do not know what you have done to upset her, but I can assure you, should I find out, you will not find me as amenable as I am now."

Istaeron bristled. "Am I to take that as a threat?"

"Consider it a warning."

A crimson flush coloured Istaeron's face, his nostrils flared and his hands clenched tightly by his sides. It looked as if he would like nothing better than to throw one of his fists towards Galador's face.

Go ahead, thought Galador contemptuously. Just give me a reason to flatten you to the ground where you stand.

But, instead, Istaeron drew in another deep breath, steadying himself. He looked briefly from side to side, noting that the spectacle of their confrontation was beginning to attract a great deal of attention.

Clearly unwilling to aggravate a conflict in his father-in-law's house, he took several steps back, his eyesight still locked with Galador's hard gaze.

"I shall leave for now." He turned slowly and walked towards the gatehouse, turning his head back around just before he was out of earshot. "But mark this, Galador, I shall be back in due course to collect my wife. And then she will return home with me – where she belongs."

-O-

Several hours passed before Galador saw his sister. He eventually found her in the gardens, sitting under a pretty stone veranda to the side of the house that offered good views across the lawn, and the sea beyond. It had been one of their mother's favourite spots – her sanctuary when she was in want of peaceful solitude. It was both quiet and secluded, and so gave the rare luxury of privacy in a busy household. Gilmith, however, did not appear to be enjoying the views, but was instead staring dejectedly down at her hands as he approached. The beautiful vista was ignored.

Galador sat down on the bench beside her.

"Your husband was here looking for you," he said quietly, examining her downturned head to get a better look at her features.

Her head snapped up at his words – panic etched across her face. It was then that he could see that her usually fine complexion was blotched and pale, while her eyes were dark and puffy.

A fresh bout of anger assailed Galador. What has Istaeron done to her to make so upset? He had never seen Gilmith like this and, frankly, it disturbed him greatly. Usually she was so happy and carefree, with a calm and peaceful quality to her character; not nervous and maudlin like this.

"I sent him away. As I promised I would," he assured her gently.

She nodded; her shoulders relaxed again as her gaze returned to her lap.

Galador had hoped that the news of Istaeron's arrival would rouse some bit of information from her about what had occurred between them. She had been uncommonly reticent on the subject the night before, and that was something that surprised him, for Gilmith had always been very open with him. It was usually Galador that she confided in and looked to for guidance. He was eager to listen to her again, but not matter how he had pushed and cajoled, she had remained mute on the subject. Reluctant to push her again, instead he waited... and waited. It soon became clear that she was not going to speak about it of her own volition. He wished then that he had forced more information out of Istaeron when he had had the chance. But his main concern at the time was to get him as far away from Gilmith as possible.

A heavy silence descended between them. Gilmith was looking down at her lap, Galador – staring blindly at the horizon.

Eventually, it was she who broke their individual contemplations. Her head was still turned away from him, and she spoke so quietly that he nearly missed her question.

"Has there been discord between you and Suiliel?"

Galador's head turned suddenly in surprise, his gaze sharpened, and, had Gilmith looked up, she could have perhaps read a glimmer of guilt in his expression.

"What makes you say so?"

"She came to call earlier, insisting that she be put to good use somehow," Gilmith explained, looking up at him finally. "She is very sweet, and a good friend." Her delicate brows furrowed as she threw a faintly accusing look in his way. "I thought it strange that she did not ask after you, as she usually would – not even in polite enquiry. And when your name was mentioned she looked decidedly awkward. I wondered whether the two of you had had some falling out."

Galador was unsure of what to say. His own code of honour meant that he abhorred lies and deceit, but he was reluctant to speak about the incident on the shore the previous day.

"Suiliel has said nothing to me that I could take offense at," he confessed finally, after a long pause.

It was true, he reasoned to himself, even if he did fail to mention his own damning contribution to that particular conversation.

"Then have you said something to upset her?" came Gilmith's speedy retort, making it clear that she was not fooled in the slightest. One of her eyebrows was raised sternly, and she sent him a hard look reminiscent of their old nursemaid.

Galador returned a half, rueful smile of unwilling admiration. This sister of his was far more discerning than she gave herself credit for.

"I realise that, for some reason, you have always ignored her obvious affection for you," she persisted, her tone gaining some indignation to it, "but surely you cannot disregard–"

"Gilmith," he cut across sharply. "Please, spare me the romantic advice. Given the current state of your marriage, I would say you are hardly in a position to lecture me on such matters."

Flushing at the censure, Gilmith went back to staring down at her hands with a mumbled, "Yes... yes, you are quite right, Brother. Forgive me for interfering."

Galador sighed heavily, cursing himself silently for upsetting her again.

"No. No, Gilmith, I am the one in need of forgiveness." He reached out to take her hand, squeezing it gently. "I should not have spoken so harshly. I have no wish to upset you."

Gilmith nodded, seeming to understand and squeezed his hand back in return.

They sat together, holding hands in utter silence, for a long time afterwards.