Roswehn of Dale

Decisions

The King held a long staff, which served as a scepter. He had hit it lightly on the ground twice, in a martial gesture.
Findred had turned abruptly and, judging by the expression that appeared on his face, when he realized who was behind him, he seemed to lose a hundred years of life.

"Feren." Thranduil called. The captain, who seemed to follow him like a shadow, approached. "Tell this soldier that there is no more space for him in the kingdom."
Findred almost dropped the chalice on the ground.

"He just offered me some wine, he wanted to be courteous!" Roswehn protested: she had watched the whole scene in disbelief. The King had literally appeared out of nowhere.

"You're drawing a lot of attention on you." Thranduil answered, looking at her carefully. "My sincere congratulations for your outfit tonight, very appropriate." Like Haldir, Thranduil did not seem to like the dress chosen by the woman. "Nim brought it to me, it's a garment made here by your people, it's a tribute to your realm, and to you." Roswehn replied. "But I can wear the dress that Morgoth gave me, if you prefer, Your Majesty." she challenged him.

She had noticed that the Elven population, all around, watched them. Even the musicians had stopped. Meanwhile, two guards had led Findred away, without much compliment.
Haldir looked at her worried, but also a little amused. Come here, she begged him with her eyes. Save me from this situation I implore you!

No dear. It's your problem now. He mentally answered, smiling with his blue eyes. Let's see how you do it by yourself, this time.

"You have returned to calling me Your Majesty?" Thranduil asked. For the first time, she felt intimidated by him. Perhaps it was the presence of all his subjects, who seemed absolutely incredulous of his appearance among them. Perhaps it was that marvelous white robe he wore, and his silver cloak and pointed crown. Roswehn had never seen a king looking so much like a king. He was absolutely stunning.

"Haldir told me that I must show you respect in front of your people." She replied.

"Haldir also told you that you should bow, in front of me?" he asked then, his blue eyes looking at her from above.

You can forget it, she answered with a fiercy look. "Do you really think I could ever bow in front of somebody?" she asked.

Like Calenduin. Exactly like her, Thranduil thought. The same boldness, the same resistance to my power. It was at that moment that he made the decision. It could have been a terribly wrong choice, but after all, even spending two thousand years in solitude had been so. Ignoring Legolas for all those centuries, it had been a mistake. Turning his back to Thorin and his people when they had begged him, it had been a mistake. Not having recognized the presence of a small Hobbit in his realm had been a mistake, and how much he had paid for it.

Leaving his bride alone among Orcs had been a mistake. The most colossal. What could be to spend a few years, maybe a few decades, in the company of a mortal, in comparison? What would he have risked, to see her grow old? It would have been a problem for Roswehn, not for him. For a while they would be happy, they would have enjoyed her youth together ... and then he would have left her free to choose. Go back to her people and die there, or stay in Mirkwood and spend the winter of her life there.

Elrond was right on one point: not giving himself a chance was worse than stupid. Do not try to come back to life, it would have been a mistake. Better a year of love spent in two warm arms than a millennial existence in solitude, right? Oh yes, the lord of Imladris on that had all the blessed reasons.

Then he gallantly reached out a hand towards the woman. Roswehn looked at him in confusion as a murmur of disbelief rose from that ocean of Elves. She turned to Haldir, who suggested to her with his eyes: what are you waiting for?