Roswehn of Dale

Regan vs. Roswehn

Roswehn had to be careful.
She pretended to fall asleep, but her plan was to escape at night, while Haldir rested. She wanted to quietly get out of his house, descend those endless steps, take one of the horses that during the night were freed from the bite and saddles ... and escape, finally. It had been three days since her conversation with Haldir: she had tried to remain calm during that period, she had let the Elf loosen a little the surveillance on her before trying to escape. In truth, both he and his brothers had been caring to her - because Galadriel ordered so - and she certainly could not complain about the treatment received. But she could no longer tolerate that prison, however golden.

The inhabitants of Lorien slept only a few hours a night, and usually their sleep was deeper when the darkness gave way to the sun, that meant, just before dawn. Roswehn waited patiently for the moment to come.

The fact that she had to mount a steed worried her: she was absolutely incapable of it. There were very few horses in Laketown, those of the soldiers. Many more were used in Dale, even in the fields, but for some stupid reason she had never thought of learning to ride. They were the only means of transport in the Middle earth, besides boats.

She thought that somehow she would have managed, after all, what could she do? And then she could not get to Rivendell by foot, it was too far away and the soldiers of Lothlórien, with their Captain on their head, would have reached her in a flash.

With all the caution she was able to, she got up from her canopy and slowly walked to the exit of the doorless house. The Elves had to be very trustful in one another to live that way, in those resin houses that could be accessible to anyone. She wondered if they knew the meaning of the word lock, or key. In Mirkwood, on the other hand, the doors existed, and were also very resistant.

As she proceeded with a stealthy step, she noticed the large mirror illuminated by the rays of the moon filtering through the branches of the trees. She approached, and saw in its reflection her image: she felt a great sadness. She was thin, and her face was pale. Perhaps because of that root beverage that she was forced to assume, or perhaps because of the moonbeams reflected from the mirror, her skin seemed pearly, like that of the Elves.

With one finger, she traced the line of her profile on the glass.
"And you would be the reincarnation of a Queen?" she asked "What a ridiculous thing, you're still the same fragile, insignificant, pathetic little girl of Dale." She insulted herself. "You thought this trip would change you, did not you? Poor thing you are, it was just a failure."

Suddenly, an unknown force pulled Roswehn's hand against the glass. In a moment, the other was dragged against the mirror. The palms firmly attached themselves to the surface, as if on the other side a magnet was attracting them strongly. She started to scream, but a third, invisible hand pressed on her mouth.

She was terrified: the reflection of her face was changing. Her features, in the mirror, had transformed. The color of her eyes was also different.

She saw a woman who was not her. A young woman like her, but fierce looking. And beautiful, much more beautiful than Roswehn.

The image spoke.

You ... STUPID! You have been captured by these miserable beings, by these living outrages! You let the Witch bind me inside of you, choking my voice in your mind.

Roswehn groaned, while the mysterious hand that closed her mouth did not loosen her grip.

Try to scream, said the woman in the mirror, try to do so, and your life will end NOW.

Roswehn tried to shake her head, as if to say that no, she would not scream. She was about to faint from terror, but incredibly she kept a glimpse of lucidity. The human girl suddenly felt her face free from that pressure. The demon in the mirror had let her go.