In love with Goneril?
No. No way.
Elrond's daughter was an Elf, and like all the other Elves, she had a formidable intuition, but on that matter she was wrong. She was totally wrong.
Hammon was not in love with his General at all.
He was afraid of her, which was a little different.
A cold shiver ran down his back every time he remembered the actions committed by the warrior girl, right in front of him.
That time she had opened the stomach of a Haradrim spy with a precise blow of her sword and had let him bleed to death: she had sat on her mahogany throne, eating an apple, placid, indifferent, completely deaf to the screams of that man.
That time she had found a thief in their camp, a girl from the Hills who had entered her tent with the idea of stealing her golden sword, and as a punishment, she had tied her to a tree and had burnt her hair with a torch. It had been Hammon himself who had saved the girl, by throwing water over her.
But it had been the episode in the village of Stillwater that had made him understand that their General was a psycho.
They had been marching for weeks, five years before, looking for a place to camp for a few days. The legion had just won a very hard battle against a group of Orcs and mountain Trolls, who had attacked a small village by the White Peaks Mountains.
Goneril had decided to stop her army nearby an anonymous village inhabited by a few dozen families: that was a perfect place because there was a river with crystal-clear fresh waters.
But the villagers had not exactly welcomed their arrival with a grin. People had gathered outside the houses immediately, lighting torches and waving staffs in the air. "We don't want you here!" They had shouted. "Murderers, filthy brigands!"
The leader of that tiny village had put himself in the front line and had shouted: "You are nothing but rabid dogs! Go away from here!!"
Goneril had not lost her cool. "We are not brigands. We are soldiers, and we are looking for a place to camp for a few nights. If you do not disturb us, we will not disturb you."
At that point the situation had degenerated. The leader had thrown a stone towards her direction, which for a few centimeters had not hit her.
"I know who you are! You're the viper of the East! Go away, before you and your pigs infect us with your diseases!"
"I said we're not here to threaten you ... we'll leave when we've recovered ..."
A stone hat hit her on the forehead. Immediately a rivulet of blood had descended on her cheek, and had ended on her lips. Goneril had not even raised a hand to clean herself. Her eyes had filled with that cold hatred that Hammon knew well.
"Degarre." She had said. "Bring every man of this miserable place here in front of me."
The captain had inspected every house and had with the other soldiers dragged all the local men to the center of the village.
"Now, let me tell you that what I am about to do will seem unfair to you, but you have deserved it. I'm not going to punish only your arrogance, but also your ignorance. You ignore the meaning of the words respect and courtesy. You know, even my stepfather used to punish me when I made mistakes ... and then I learned. After his punishments, oh how I learned!" she had said.
"Hey... what do you want to do with us?!" Had shouted a man.
"Degarre, now amputate the left arm of each of these peasants." She had ordered.
The villagers, on hearing those words, had begun to scream.
Hammon, as usual, had tried to reason with her. "Come on, Goneril, stop it. You can't do that!"
"I can not?" she had replied. "And why? They attacked me, you saw it too. I've always said: an eye for an eye, Hammon. This small wound on my forehead will be repaid with their blood."
"Please, General, you can't kill innocent people. Cut off their arms ... it's madness, Goneril, listen to me!" Hammon had insisted.
"Don't worry, Captain. They will always have the other arm." Goneril had replied.
And things had gone just like that. Needless to say, more than half of those unfortunate men had died the same day, leaving behind widows and orphans.
In love with Goneril?
A man with a normal brain would have never fallen in love with her. Even though she was beautiful. An eagle with peacock feathers, that woman was.
Then, of course, there were also those moments.
Those very rare and almost surreal moments, in which their General took off her assassin's mask and immersed herself in her thoughts. Often it happened at sunset. She used to sit on a boulder or on a hill and remained for endless minutes to watch the sun descend towards the Earth and disappear. It was as if Goneril immersed herself in a vision, and nobody ever bothered her while she was lost in that meditation.
Hammon always wondered what she was thinking about when she was so concentrated. Perhaps she was reflecting on her life: she maybe realized that she was alone in that world. Perhaps she was thinking of her atrocities.
Or perhaps she used to think that, after all, the Middle Earth was a beautiful place and maybe it was worth stopping to admire it for a brief moment, every now and then.
"There's some good in her too." Arwen said again.
They were both in the princess's room. It was full of books and candles.
At that point, Elrond's daughter was very close to becoming a spirit, Hammon noticed that he could see through her body. Arwen could no longer stand on her feet. She was lying helpless on her large canopy.
"There's a hidden soul in that warrior. A scared little girl. Find her, help her get out of that pit where they threw her. Teach her how to smile." said the Elf. "... and you both will be happy."
"I don't know why you say these things, my lady. If you refer to my General, she chose the path of revenge. She does not want to be saved, because she does not believe she is lost." answered Hanmon.
"You think?" replied Arwen. "Sometimes we turn our backs on life only to avoid facing what we want to be. Even Aragorn chose exile, years ago. But now he has understood. Now he has understood, for what future he must fight. But he needed the help of my father to open his eyes. And the woman you love needs yours. Bring her back to light. " Arwen continued.
"I do not love Goneril, nor other women. Why are you so sure of this?" Hammon asked.
"Because of the way you described her. You used only sweet words. You can see the best part of her, unlike all the others. This happens when we love: we can only notice beautiful things." answered the Elf girl.
"You are so wrong. I know who Goneril is. I know all the dark corners of her soul. I am not a fool, Lady Arwen." objected Hammon.
"Why are you waiting for her, then, Benjamin? Why you don't want to leave her alone?" asked the princess of Imladris.
"Because ..." the soldier could not immediately find the answer. He thought for a moment. "... because the whole world has fallen into chaos, and I need to hold on to something. To an ideal, even it is just an absurd loyalty to a cruel woman. I don't know if you can understand."
"Loyalty. So rare to find in our times." commented Arwen. "It is an immense fortune to receive demonstrations of loyalty."
Hammon remained silent. He felt confused. To love Goneril, to love a person who was anything but lovable?
"I have seen horrors in my life. Most of those horrors have been committed by my commander. If you really believe that I can have tender feelings for her, you are totally ..."
⚜️⚜️⚜️
"... crazy." Thranduil said, as soon as he heard the news of his son's disappearance from the palace.
"Hazel is crazy. He loosened the surveillance on the prince, he let my son escape from his rooms, contravening everything I had ordered him ?!" said the King.
Feren was beside him, embarrassed by the situation. Hazel was one of his best captains, the most serious, the most scrupulous. He had a good chance of trying an important career in the army, but with that huge mistake he had lost it forever.
"Bring him here!" Thranduil ordered.
"Hazel has recalled the Caranthir company and they are heading towards the fire. Varian and his Elves have been slaughtered, it was necessary to send reinforcements." explained Feren. "I ordered two other companies to get ready."
"He was in charge of watching over my son!" said the King. "That was his task! The prince has escaped, and it is all your captain's fault."
"If Prince Haldir has disobeyed you, Your Majesty, it is because he does not respect his father enough. Please consider this too." the High Commander of Greenwood answered coldly.
Thranduil was stunned at that sentence. "What did you say?"
Feren was not intimidated. "Prince Haldir in these years has been rebellious, disrespectful, blatantly hostile to me and to all his overseers. It has made life impossible for us. It is time for someone to tell you, Lord Thranduil. I hate to be that someone, but my devotion towards your person forces me to be sincere. "
Thranduil approached him slowly. His blue eyes acquired the ancient ferocity that Feren knew well. Even King Oropher had that deadly look.
"You dare suggest me how to educate my sons?" the King asked. "Say it again."
Feren replied: "There is no Elf in this realm who is more loyal than me to the noble family that governs our beloved people. But that does not prevent me from telling you the truth: yes, my Lord, I believe that with Prince Haldir you made a mistake."
At that point Thranduil, who always carried his long sword hanging at the waist, pulled it out with a quick movement and prepared to use it. In Feren's new physiognomy, a long red scar would have appeared on his right cheek.
But then the King stopped.
A grimace of acute suffering passed over his face, and he slowly lowered his arm.
"I failed. As with Legolas." he was heard murmuring. "I failed again."
He brought his other hand to his face. It seems that all the pain in the world weighed on his shoulders at that moment.
"Forgive me, Your Majesty. I ..." said Feren.
"Shut up." Thranduil stopped it. "You're not the person I have to talk to." He headed for his rooms. "I have to confront his mother."
Thranduil walked towards the cave occupied by Roswehn. As he proceeded, he wondered how his former lover would have reacted to the news. It was probable, well, it was certain, that she would have got mad at him. He could clearly imagine the scene.
You had to hide him, Thranduil! You had to protect him, as we both promised to Radagast! Can you tell me why you didn't succeed? Can you explain why the great king is unable to take care of his son?
Ah, he remembered well all the arguments with Roswehn, just as he remembered the beautiful moments they had spent in his rooms.
Anger and passion. The two main ingredients of their relationship.
He entered abruptly the cave guarded by a soldier. He found the woman standing, her hands trembling nervously. She seemed agitated.
"Thranduil!" She exclaimed when she saw him. "Nim has just been here. She is desperate! Hazel left without saying goodbye to her , he went to war!"
"I know." replied the King.
"You have to call him back, I beg you! Nim waits for a child, she is terrified that something can happen to her husband! He must come back!" Said Roswehn.
"Hazel is a soldier. He is doing his duty." the King retorted coldly.
Roswehn approached him. "Oh...for once ... could you be less stern? Please, let him come back! Nim is my friend, and I've never seen her so scared!" She pleaded.
"Nim is not the only elf woman of this realm to be worried. Many others fear for their children or husbands." the King said. "And unfortunately it's your turn now. You and I are not spared from this anguish."
"What do you say?" asked Roswehn, confused.
"Haldir has escaped." Thranduil finally admitted.
"What...?" said Roswehn, overwhelmed by the sensations that the news caused in her. She paled.
"He stole my father's sword and left the palace. He went to war, too, Roswehn." the King continued.
"Thranduil!" the human then screamed, putting her hands in her hair. "How ... could you ... !!!"
"Our son inherited your stubbornness, your carelessness towards my authority, your vehemence! He took the worst from you!" the King replied.
"You said your soldiers watched him over night and day ... night and day!" shouted Roswehn again, she was so desperate that she didn't realize that her voice was as clear and bright as it had been in her youth.
"I had ordered Hazel to watch over him. He has let him go. And he allowed our son to put himself in a tremendous danger. You can tell this to Nim when you see her crying." retorted the King.
"Oh, don't be disgusting! What has this got to do with it ?! You swore, you guaranteed for his safety!" continued Roswehn. "Do you know what happens if they find it ?!"
"They will not find him. Haldir is clever. He will hide. And when he realizes that the danger is too great, he will come back." said the King.
"He is also your son. He will not come back at all. Have you ever surrendered to fear?" she asked.
"No. No, never." said Thranduil.
"Then not even Haldir will." Roswehn said, sitting on the bed. "Thranduil ... tell me that what happens is not true. Tell me that it is not really happening."
The King sat next to her. He bowed his head.
"I had sworn to my wife to love and protect Legolas. I swore to you to take care of our son when you left my kingdom. And now, both of my sons are far from me. Both are risking their lives." He said. "What a ... what a useless father am I, tell me."
Roswehn did not remember ever seeing Thranduil, her great love, so sad, weak, powerless in front of a problem.
She regretted her words. "Forgive me if I attacked you. Sometimes I forget that you are a fragile creature like we all are, even though you are a King. But I am worried for Haldir. Do you remember what Radagast said? That warning: do not let him leave your territory. The Sorcerer had blessed this wood, he prevented Morgoth from entering ... but he did not bless our son. He is vulnerable, he is naked without us. " the woman said.
"It's all done." Thranduil said. "I couldn't keep him here. I tried, but I only made him suffer. Maybe it's time we put our son in the hands of Eru, and let's hope he cares for him."
Roswehn asked: "And what will we do? If Sauron wins ..."
"I will not leave this land." the King answered. "I will never leave my wood. I prefer to die fighting, or to live to save my son if they should kidnap him. However things will go, I will not go to the West. This is my territory, and here I will wait for the end of everything. "
"What if things went as we hope? If Haldir was saved and became King ... what will you do?" asked Roswehn.
"What I told you. I will stay here with him. He will surely need my advice. And if one day I will decide to leave him, I will go under a tree and do what every Elf should do at the end of his long life." he answered.
"What do you mean? Will you become a spirit?" said Roswehn.
"Yes. I will live in every leaf, in every tree, in every animal in this Forest. It's my Forest, I told you." he answered.
"Lord Thranduil !! Lord Thranduil !!" a voice was heard calling. Both he and Roswehn left the small cave.
Feren came running. "News from
the West!" he said. "Lord Celeborn ... has crossed the river Anduin with his army! They are coming here! They rush to the aid of our kingdom!"
Thranduil could not believe it. "The Lothlórien sends reinforcements ... to us?"
"Why not? You're his cousin!" said Roswehn. Then she thought of the other Haldir, of that brave captain killed at Helm's Deep, who so much importance had had in her life. If he had been alive, he would have led Galadriel's army.
"Yes ... besides, something is happening in the South. The fire has stopped. Our lookouts refer of an ice-spitting creature that is pouring frozen air over the forest. A sort of ... of ... little dragon." added Feren. "It's like ... he's trying to help us."
"Oropher!" exclaimed Roswehn. "It's not possible, he's still alive!"
Thranduil looked at her. "It seems like you and I have some friends after all." he turned to his commander. "Feren, it is important that my son comes back. I will look for him. You ... lead our armies. Do not let those monsters cross the Mountains. They must not come here. Send dispatches through the Forest, coordinate our forces with those of Celeborn. I trust in you. "
Then he turned to Roswehn. "You'll stay here. I'll bring you our son, I swear."
That said, the King and Feren headed to the armory.
The woman was left alone with her anguish.
Haldir. Where are you.
She suddenly felt a sharp pain in her chest. She almost fell on her knees, it was the providential presence of a chair nearby to avoid it. She sat down.
She put her hand to her heart. She felt pressure right in the middle of the sternum, as if that red muscle was slowly losing its beats.
No. It can't happen now. She thought, while a drop of sweat descended from her temples. Not this way. Thranduil and Haldir ... they are far from me.
She tried to relax and slowly began to feel better.
Nim arrived, with a jar of water and a dish full of vegetables. "I brought you some ..."
Seeing her friend in that state, she immediately got worried.
"... what's wrong with you? Roswehn, what's wrong?" Nim asked.
"Nothing. I'm fine, just tired." the human answered.
"Are you sure? You're so pale. Come on, lay down on the bed. I'll help you." Nim said.
"No. No. Nim, I want to go out. Take me to the terrace, the one I loved so much when I lived here. Where the King put the statue that represents me. Please." asked Roswehn. "Air. I need fresh air, Nim."