Roswehn was admiring the big ruby given to her by Oropher, the little ice dragon which had helped her find her way out of the Misty Mountains.
She wondered if she would ever find the courage to confess to Thranduil that she had baptized a dragon with his father's name.
That was not very respectful to his memory. The Dragons were creatures of Morgoth, like Shelob, they had been terrible weapons used by the ancient demon and his servant Sauron against the Elves.
In recent times, however, the great serpents seemed to keep their distance from their old master, as if they had developed a kind of independence. Smaug itself had isolated himself for years in Erebor.
Like those young people who leave home slamming the door behind them and forget about their parents.
Roswehn was looking intently at the stone: it was amazing, of a superb color red. The color of the cloaks of Kings, in fairy tales.
She had thought of going to the furnaces of the kingdom and ask the Elven smiths to immediately forge a sword for her son, and set that jewel in the handle. But then a comment by Legolas had come to her mind: the Prince had explained how complicated it was to make swords, especially for the handle, for it had to be made to measure, preferably, so as to adapt to the hands of the owner. Like the bows. Therefore, Roswehn had to wait for Haldir to be born and to become an adult.
She was terrified by nightfall.
The demon called Morgoth had warned her: its harassment would not end until Roswehn protected her creature.
Where was the spirit of Calenduin, in all that? If the spirit of the Elvenqueen protected Greenwood, why had it allowed Morgoth to enter their territory?
Yet, Thranduil had told her that his wife in the afterlife approved their union. He had heard Calenduin's voice, in the wind, suggesting him to help the human woman months before ... and Yohlande also had this feeling. At dinner, during the first night spent at Eryn Galen all together, Mrs. Monrose had told her daughter that she had heard the deceased Queen speak to her in her mind, and tell her that Roswehn and Thranduil belonged to each other and that no one had to break that bond.
The world of the Elves was full of mysteries and magic, much more than she had imagined. It was a mystical world, beautiful, but also terrifying for those who had entered it unprepared. Spirits, immortality, reincarnation, voices in the wind, in the mind, telepathy, clairvoyance ... the logic of
a mortal struggled to accept similar concepts.
Her own pregnancy was a big question mark. It would have lasted twelve months, two had already passed. Ten more months of nausea, nightmares, changes in her body awaited her. And then, the birth. What should she expect, to expel a baby attached to her with the umbilical cord, or a kind of egg?
Morath had told her that the elves were born wrapped in a transparent cocoon, similar to that of silkworms ... and then they freed themselves after few minutes. And what would the baby drink: milk, root juice, or neither?
In Greenwood they were all unprepared to welcome a half-breed child: they had never existed there. Morath had suggested her to stay calm and not get too worried. Your child's nature will run its course, you will learn more from him than he from you, she had told Roswehn.
Actually, the girl no longer trusted Nim's mother: her advice on how to live love with a male Elf turned out to be wrong, to begin with. Morath had told her that elvish sexuality and love were made of spirituality and very chaste contacts ... and it wasn't true at all. The first night with Thranduil she had even begged him to stop, at some point. The following times it had gone better, but to say that in the intimacy of the Elves there was nothing but caresses and spirituality was a huge, ridiculous lie.
The noise of the waterfall was deafening.
Roswehn had asked Nim to get her beeswax ear plugs and, why not, even an eye mask. It would not have been easy for Morgoth to torment her, if she could neither see nor hear.
Sure, he could touch her with his cold fingers. Sure, he could do a thousand things. It was Morgoth.
Even if she hid with Gollum in the darkest of caves she would not be able to escape him.
Furthermore, staying far from Thranduil was not a bad idea: she preferred to spend the nights alone. She was tired of waking up abruptly in the middle of the night and seeing her beloved's eyes widen in confusion, and fill themselves with that tragic suspicion: the future mother of my designated heir has little woodworms in her head, do you want to convince me of this, Roswehn? Well you know what, you're really succeeding.
She suddenly heard someone knock on the door. Probably it was Nim.
"Come on in." Roswehn said, rising from the bed and putting the ruby in a little chest, where she also kept the Evenstar. She had taken it off her neck so as not to risk breaking it.
In fact, Nim entered, but behind her there were Thranduil and Amon, with Radagast.
"Here's the young woman I heard about. I'm glad to meet you. Radagast, at your service." the Wizard greeted her. He seemed weird, but friendly.
Immediately, Roswehn ran to him and hugged him. "Oh thank Eru!" She said. "... I met Gandalf before you, he helped me a lot." She revealed, while Thranduil and Amon exchanged skeptical glances.
The King observed Radagast with a hint of obvious disgust: in fact, the Wizard looked even more stray than Gandalf.
But beside his poor appearence, Radagast had a reputation for being very powerful: Gandalf's magic stick, with which the latter had driven Morgoth and dispersed the Haradrim in Fornost, had been a gift from Radagast.
Thranduil hoped that the old man would not disappoint him, otherwise he wouldn't have known what else to do.
He didn't want to ask Elrond for help again, and as for Galadriel, Middle-earth would have burned before Oropher's son asked that Noldor Witch a favor. Gandalf ... well, finding him would have been very difficult, at that moment Eru only knew where the Grey Pilgrim was.
"Roswehn says she sees entities tormenting her. I'm afraid it's an unpleasant consequence of her condition." Thranduil explained. "We need your opinion."
"Why can't this be the truth?" Radagast asked back.
Thranduil looked at him in surprise. "Does it seem possible to you that there are ghosts wandering in my private rooms?" he asked.
"Yes. Everything is possible. And well, it can really be Morgoth himself." replied the Wizard, in the most tranquil tone in the world.
At that point, Roswehn lay down on the bed and burst into tears. So, after all, she wasn't a crazy visionary.
"I told you...I told you and you didn't believe me! You didn't believe me!" She accused Thranduil. "Did you hear what Radagast said? There's something here!"
"Morgoth cannot enter my realm. It's nonsense." Thranduil began to get angry. "I needed answers from you. You're reiterating this madness instead."
"Why couldn't Morgoth enter here? This realm is nothing but a giant wood, there is no magic to protect it. It is not like the Lórien or Rivendell." Radagast explained, not at all intimidated by the sudden change in Thranduil's mood. With certain Elves one had to be patient, especially with a presumptuous King of the Sindar family. A noble and rebellious lineage.
Maybe even for that reason Morgoth was attracted to the child inside Roswehn's womb: that baby had the blood of Thranduil, a blood already infected with the virus of rebellion and boundless ambition. And weren't those the two reasons why Melkor, or Morgoth, the beautiful and shining Vala had turned against Eru, rebellion and ambition?
Slowly, the mosaic took shape.
"Listen, I have to talk to the girl in private." Radagast said, then turned to Thranduil. "I regret having to ask you to leave the room ... Your ... Elven...Majesty ... It's really necessary."
Thranduil did not answer, he just asked Nim to open the door for him and silently he and Amon left.
"You too, Nim. Thank you." Roswehn told her.
Radagast and Roswehn sat on the bed.
"Now tell me everything. From the beginning. I also want to know about Gandalf, when, how and why you needed his help. Do you understand me?" asked the Wizard.
Roswehn nodded. "It's a very long story. It began ... two winters ago. When I looked up one night and saw the silhouette of a dragon flying above me, in Lake-town ..."
🌹🌹🌹
"... and he told me to decide: with him or against him." the woman concluded. The meeting with Radagast had been going on for two hours.
She felt her throat burn, for she had talked so much. All the while, the old wizard had listened to her in silence, but a series of expressions had passed on his face: interest, alarm, fear, confusion.
Finally, he had sighed.
"See, brave girl, I believe you really have no choice. You can stand against him, but if what I fear comes true, Morgoth will still come to victory. To his victory. Your son will be plagiarized, at some point ..." said the old Wizard.
"...what?!" Roswehn was startled. "Please tell, what is your idea about this?" She felt the blood freeze in her body.
"The insistence with which the ancient demon gives you torment makes me think that you and your son, especially your son, are of extreme importance to him. Tell me, have you ever heard of the Dagor Dagorath?" asked Radagast.
"Yes, it is a prophecy, about the End of Times. The final battle from which a new world will be born, made of Harmony. I know it, of course." she answered.
"Do you also know against whom our free races will fight, then?" he asked.
"Morgoth ... and Sauron, and the Balrogs ... all the evil creatures of the world, even those believed to be extinct." she answered.
"But to start this huge war Morgoth will need an instrument ... a way to break down the doors of the night, to eliminate the Sun and the Moon ... the two bright creations of Eru that keep him chained, which limit his power. You said you spoke with his spirit both day and night. Did you get the impression that he was avoiding the rays of the sun? Or of the moon?"
he asked Radagast.
"Yes. In Fornost he stayed away from the sunlight, he remained ... hidden in the shadows while he spoke to me. Even today, in the woods. And here in the Palace, I had the impression that he was impregnated by the moonlight ... but from what you're telling me, maybe it would be more correct to say that the silvery light of the moon blocked him." she reflected.
"... and he never really hurt you, except for that little cut, which was just a demonstration. Strange, right? He, Morgoth, could have disintegrated you ... but he didn't. He can come in here, but he can't seriously harm you ... thanks to our glowing friend there. " Radagast pointed to the moon. "... and to the sun. So don't be too scared. You are somehow protected already."
"But my son ... what does Morgoth exactly want from him?" she asked, a bit frustrated.
Radagast wasn't getting to the point.
"It's just my guess, I repeat ... but I thought, well... that in fact your son could be the instrument through which the Dagor Dagorath will start." answered Radagast.
"How? Why just my baby?!" exclaimed Roswehn. That news was a hundred times worse than she had expected.
"It's better talk about this in the presence of Thranduil. I have to tell you guys something now. Something you have to keep in mind for the next few years." answered Radagast. "Call the King, please."
"Get him called ?! We'll have to go to him. Follow me." said Roswehn.
"He will not believe a word. I warn you."
"He will have to do it instead. Roswehn, it is of vital importance that he tries to accept the facts. I will do my best to convince him that this is not a joke." the Wizard promised.
"Well, good luck." she sighed. "This way. Follow me."