Roswehn of Mirkwood

Haldir Thranduilion

"Look at him."
Roswehn urged the king to approach the bed. "Isn't he beautiful?"
Thranduil slowly advanced to the edge of the oak-wood bed where the girl and their son were waiting for him. The elf king dropped a look full of tenderness on the little creature, and remained silent for a few moments. A new life, blood of his blood.

"Would you like to take him in your arms?" Roswehn asked.

"Yes. Give him to me." the sovereign nodded.

Meanwhile, Amon listened quietly in one corner of the room: his arms folded, he was leaning against one of the walls. He looked like he was waiting to see some interesting show. He was probably imagining the angry reaction of his sovereign after realizing the little anomaly of the child. Of the human child.

Half-bloods always had pointed ears, Amon knew. It was a hereditary characteristic and an unchangeable peculiarity, even when one of the two parents was a mortal. Maybe they didn't have the agility of pure elves, they had no developed senses, they had a reduced life expectancy, albeit much longer than that of humans. But the pointed ears, those must have been present in the son of an elf.

Thranduil didn't seem to notice, though. Strange, the healer thought. Perhaps he is so blinded by the love for this little creature that he has not realized that.

"Lord Thranduil, why don't you bring the little Prince next to the window, so you will watch him in the sunlight." he suggested then.

Roswehn turned to the King. "Amon thinks this is not the son of an elf. What do you say about that, Thranduil?" She asked, in a provocative tone.

The king immediately turned to look at the healer. "What are you talking about?!"

"Indeed, Your Majesty, this child has unusual characteristics for one of our race. Please forgive me if I ask you to observe him better." answered Amon. He and Roswehn stared at each other with hatred.

Morath, Nim and Yohlande were holding their breath. There was so much tension in that room that it could be cut with a knife.

Silently, the king brought the newborn, who in the meantime had stopped crying in his arms, near one of the large windows.

He looked at him with attention.

He had rosy, full lips, like Roswehn. And also the shape of the eyes could resemble those of Roswehn. But the color of his eyes, that revealed his elven race. The race of the Sindars. The irises were icy blue.

"He has my eyes, my father's eyes." Thranduil murmured. "Blue like the winter sky."

"All children are born with blue eyes," says Yohlande. "But the color can change ... I mean... for us humans it is like that."

"They are not blue. They are icy blue. And his hair is blond like Legolas' " the king answered, his eyes still fixed on the little boy's face. Of course he was his son. No doubt.

".... but ... the earlobes, Lord Thranduil. I suggest you to observe them well." said the healer.

"They are like those of men, it is true." Then the king turned to Roswehn. "You told me you met Aragorn, in the village of Bree. Did you have the impression that he got pointed ears?"

Nim and Morath frowned. That question had nothing to do with the discussion.

Roswehn said, "No ... no, I don't think so. Actually, I didn't look at him well. I only spoke to him for a few minutes. But ... he was a human boy, he had no Elf-like features"

"And yet, he also has our blood in his veins. He is distantly related to Elrond, did you know?" the king asked, his eyes still lost in his son's face. The child made a grimace that looked so much like a smile.