Roswehn of Mirkwood

Departures

"I'm sorry, Dad."
Roswehn had accompanied her parents, and Edith, on the road to Dale. "Thranduil wants me to go back soon to the palace, I must leave you now."

Hannes did not answer.

"Dad, please, look at me." she begged him. "Do not leave me this way."

"Return to the Palace, Roswehn, we know the way to go to Dale. Do not worry about us." Yohlande answered.

Hannes was sad. He had failed, his little girl was still lost in the world of Elves. But Yohlande felt somewhat relieved: she had talked to the King, and in his eyes she had caught the sincerity she had hoped to see.
Mrs. Monrose would have preferred to return home with her daughter, but now she was at least free from the anguish that had tormented her in recent weeks.

Roswehn had grown up, she was about to become a mother. And the father of her future son seemed completely honest in his feelings. At least, in Yohlande's eyes. To convince Hannes would have been much harder.

"Yes, go back to your master. He's snapping his fingers, don't you hear?" Edith said.

Roswehn approached the woman. "You ha've been hateful these days! You made a terrible impression, I will never forgive you, Edith." She growled. "I do not blame Thranduil because he has bad opinions about humans ... you confirm his ideas with your rudeness, do you know this?"

"Just because I'm telling the truth, honey? You once admired my sincerity!" Edith answered.

"Yes, when I was a teen like Sigrid, but now I am an adult, I found love, I have a companion. He's a noble elf, and from him I learned what class is." She said, looking at her, "Do you know what I think? You're a poor, lonely woman, Edith  ... do not blame others if you're a sad spinster! "

Edith slapped her face.
A strong, sudden slap, whose sound echoed in the woods.

"Edith!" Hannes shouted.

Roswehn put a hand on her face in disbelief.  Never before Edith had beaten her.

The florist stared at her. Her face was red with anger. "Don't you dare pity me ..." she hissed." Do not even try, you wretch!"

"You insulted Thranduil, you did it knowing that you would have hurt me...how should I feel? I thought you loved me ..." Roswehn answered, feeling the urge to cry.

"You are nothing to me, now... and my house on the hill, and the rose garden... I don't have children, so I wanted to leave everything to you. You would have inherited everything, my money, my house, my pottery workshop ... you had a future as a rich lady in Dale. But you won't get anything. Because that Elf on one point is right: you're just an arrogant and spoiled brat.
I felt sorry for you when I heard you had been enchanted by the Elves. I had come here to help you. But now I feel bad for him, who has chosen to keep you by his side. I'm sorry for him, and for his son." Edith told her, in an unexpectedly calm tone.

That fact impressed Roswehn even more. The tranquility with which Edith had said those things meant that she wouldn't have apologized, later. Usually, when the florist got angry, she was all curses, screams, insults... then she regretted and asked for forgiveness. But at that moment,  she sounded terribly serious.

"And as for what he may have taught you ... do not even ask me what I think ... Anyway, if you've decided that this is your life, I'm glad I'm not part of it anymore." Edith finished. Then she turned away, urging the pony to advance.

"... hey, wait for us, where are you going?" Yohlande said.

"I want to go back to my house, among normal people, I have enough of roots, branches, leaves, and Elves." Edith grunted, without turning nor stopping.