Gwenllian

The only character I play on a true roleplaying M* is Gwenllian, a drudge in the kitchens of Fort Weyr. The job isn't the most rewarding, but the stories told by dining dragonriders fascinate her, so she can't really complain. Here is Gwen, in a nutshell and a half. :)

Gwenllian
Loose ringlets of thick, honey-tinged sienna dance around her face, their brevity exposing a playful, almost boyish, spirit. Shapely eyebrows arch above gray pools of luminous mercury that glint with steely strength. Sharp facial angles vie with hair's delicate curl as geometric war is waged by aquiline nose, high cheekbones, and square jaw. Chores performed before hearth and sun have bestowed a ruddy glow to her tall, spare frame. Years of work in kitchens speak through hands crisscrossed with minute white scars.
Brown and black, somber colors indeed, twine on her shoulder into the convoluted knot signifying allegiance to Fort Weyr.
A formless, utilitarian, long-sleeved dress of coarse brown fabric hangs loosely from her limbs. The ragged hem just barely reaches past her knees. This marvel of needlework and craftsmanship is covered by a thin white apron, smudged from use as a dustcloth, pocket torn at the seam. Good work clothes, typical drudge gear.
Gwenllian is 18 Turns, 10 months, and 18 days old. (..at the time of this page revision, anyhow.)

And now, for a little more of Gwen's story...

A midsummer night's dream it was, a peaceful image of reclining in sun-warmed meadows, when the beastcrafter Owain suddenly awoke to the torturous cries of his wife Rhonwyn. Even in her forties, she had a youthful appearance, though crow's feet crinkled her celestial blue eyes and the odd strand of gray interrupted the sheen of her honeyed brown hair. Now, however, birth pangs contorted her face. Bellowing fit to shake the walls, Owain summoned Ruatha Hold's resident midwife, Gara, to assist his mate. Several hours later, the screaming of a female child became audible throughout the halls of the Hold, and thus Gwenllian came into the world.

Gwen was a happy child in her infancy, and her constant smiles endeared her to all the Hold's servants, save one.. her father himself. At the age of fifty-one, he was looking ahead to old age and retirement, looked after by his capable sons Rhodri, then twenty-eight Turns of age, and Gruffydd, twenty-three Turns of age. But a daughter, an /infant/.. he'd had enough of burping, bawling, bedwetting babies for one thing, and a daughter was practically worthless to him besides. If he'd been a problem drinker before, he became a pickled sot after Gwen's arrival. Violence became a way of life--violence toward his wife, his sons, and even Gwen, as she grew into a mischievous little tomboy of a toddler. She was always opening herdbeast pens and chasing wherries all over the Hold, childishly unaware of the fact that Owain's already short temper was becoming even shorter.

Now, Owain wasn't always unkind to the teetering terror that was his daring daughter. When he looked at her, he saw not only his own unfortunate facial features and steely gray eyes but the unruly, gilt sienna hair of his wife. On the rarest of occasions, he would come to the kitchens and swing her around, much to her squealing delight:

And so Gwen's attitude toward her father became a fear of his rages, mitigated with love for the pitifully few displays of affection he'd shown her. As she grew, however, she came to loathe the grizzled old beastcrafter, as he abused her mother when he was in his cups. During the brief time she did spend with Owain, she acquired rudimentary knowledge of the beastcraft.

Gwen grew into a healthy ten-Turn-old, at which age her father decided it appropriate for her to apprentice to her mother in the kitchens. As this kept her away from Owain for most of the day, Gwen readily agreed, and thus she began to learn the culinary arts. Hours passed in the kitchen every day as she peeled tubers, constantly cutting her hands until she became more deft with the peeling knife. Even to this day, white scars are plainly visible on her palms and fingers.

Harpers passed through Ruatha from time to time, and the preadolescent Gwen would dutifully sit with the other children to learn the lessons which the Harpers taught. She listened avidly to the instruction in mathematics, and she scoured the Ruathan Records Room for further mathematical information. Finding little, she sated her taste for learning with the rest of the literature contained in the records room. As she grew older, she became more and more introverted--running off to read after work, saying little for fear the other boys and girls would mock her for her odd pastime. What stories the Harpers didn't tell to Gwen, Rhonwyn would, and a captivating storyteller she was. Dragons and their riders blazed across the sky in chromatic and metallic glory; poverty-stricken young girls from the backwoods regions of distant Holds became riders and were never alone again. Gwen placed the riders on a lofty pedestal, indeed; but the more she learned of science, the less she believed of the stories. She was more of a seeing-is-believing type than her credulous brothers, and so her mother eventually despaired of telling the traditional stories.

As far as her brothers were concerned, Gwen met them only a handful of times in her young life. Rhodri, a beastcraft journeyman, and his wife Nerissa lived in Tillek with their son Aidan, who was near Gwen's age. Gruffydd lived his single life in the kitchens in Igen, a perennial drudge, unassuming to a fault. Gwen thought of them more as friends of the family than as anything else, and as Owain became more and more abusive, her brothers visited less and less. They took little notice of their younger sister, except to blame her for their father's dissolution. Gwen's self-confidence wore down to a tiny thread, and she pulled further into her own thoughts, lest someone trample on her true self. The only friend she could truly confide in was her cousin Adara, whose father was brother to Gwen's. She often visited Adara in the neighboring cothold, to commiserate, to counsel each other, to talk about boys (which Gwen found amusing, but not particularly worth her while). The subject of boys was one which made Adara blush, so Gwen spent loads of time teasing Adara about them, not unkindly.

By the time Gwen was sixteen Turns old, she had grown almost to man-height (about 5'10"), where she would stop growing and begin her late blooming. But the bloom withered from abuse and excessive work. After Nature had worked all her wonders, Gwen still had a boy's body, muscled slightly, and lacking a woman's curves. Deeper and deeper her unhappiness became, until the day when a scourge was lifted--her father finally drowned himself in alcohol and passed out of her life forever. She felt the slightest pang of regret for him, for the times he'd swung her around the kitchen, for the times he'd walked with her and talked of his youth.. but she shed no tears for him. Rhonwyn, a dependent from the outset, lost her mental edge and will to live after her husband's death, even though he had treated her shamefully and without the respect inherently due to all human beings. Gwen silently took on the dual responsibility of caring for her aged mother and of performing Rhonwyn's duties as assistant cook.

Fortunately for the overburdened Gwen, a second true friend passed through her life at this point. Soon after Owain's death, a young woman came to the steps of Ruatha Hold, seeking room and board. As Gwen discovered later, Brynna, as this woman was called, needed emotional rehabilitation as well. Her dearly beloved, a man by the name of Tehvn, had been killed in a horrible accident. Brynna became a fosterling at Ruatha, and spent much of her time at Gwen's hearth. The two shared their painful losses, their overwhelming grief, and their looming despair. Oddly enough, in the mingling of their sorrows, they discovered a nacent hope for the future. After perhaps a Turn and a half, Brynna journeyed to Southern Boll and took up residence there.

In time, Rhonwyn joined Owain in death, and Gwen was left alone. After two Turns of living with her mother's oppressive grief, Gwen could no longer abide in the Hold of her birth. Every ounce of gray matter in her head compelled her to leave, to find new employment, to seek new knowledge, to make new acquaintances, to /live/. And so, on a rainy autumn day, she made good her escape, carrying nothing but the ragged clothes on her back, boarding a wagon headed away from Ruatha, to a destination unknown to her. And so came about the major turning point of Gwen's youthful life.

As it happened, the wagon stopped at Fort Weyr, and Gwen debarked to an awe-inspiring scene. People of all ages and appearances milled about, many-colored firelizards danced in aerial glory, and--the most heart-stopping sight of all--dragons launched from and landed on the rocky heights abover her. As Gwen stood there in open-mouthed stupor, a man approached her and introduced himself as M'gellan. Respectfully presenting herself, Gwen began to converse with the man, whom she recognized as a rider by the honorific name. He took her to the main Living Cavern, where she made the acquaintance of another rider by the name of Fiona. The two dragonriders were cordial and kind, causing Gwen's trepidation to slowly ebb away.

Later that night, M'gellan took Gwen on the ride of her life--a trip to Boll on his bronze Ranjith. Every facet of the flight: the powerful launch, the roaring wind, the opalescent skies, the deathly cold of ::between::, even the tight grip of the stabilizing straps, all were indelibly etched into Gwen's memory. The following day, Gwen encountered the kindly Weyr Headwoman, Felassa, and the jovial assistant headwoman, Nayra. They offered Gwen the position of drudge in the weyr kitchens, which Gwen gladly accepted (warnings about the wicked head cook Grizelda notwithstanding).

In the ensuing months, Gwen has lived an easygoing, entertaining, enjoyable life in the weyr, befriending weyrfolk and dragonriders alike. If her mind sometimes reaches out for more than her current position allows, she still can't complain. The dragonriders congregate in the cavern and narrate grandiose stories of the past and present, while gossip runs rampant. Gwen's servile, distant attitude has gradually loosened up; Gwen regains more of her self-confidence daily as weyrfolk and dragonriders alike engage her in casual, oftentimes humorous, conversation. Gwen's sense of humor and youthful zest for life are also returning, stage by stage. She's sensible but not /too/ saucy, friendly but never flirtatious, devoted but not demanding.

The end of the story passed by in something of a rush; Gwen's had many adventures at the weyr, and they're too numerous to recount here. Besides, gentle reader, you've already been spammed. ;) Suffice it to say that her life at the weyr has been.. interesting. She's even been bespoken by brown Cyrenth! Anyhow, to conclude this little (?!) page about her, I'll mention the firelizards she's Impressed. All descriptions are of the original hatchlings; I have made no corrections. My thanks to those who wrote the descs, especially Arien and K'lora.

Gwenllian sees to Blue Llywelyn, Green Siwan, Gold Senena, and Brown Rhys.

Thank you for your curiosity, and kudos to you if you made it this far! :)

This page hosted by Get your own Free Home Page