Roswehn of Mirkwood

Ghosts

"I want to know what's the problem." Thranduil commanded. "I want to know why she's still sick."

He and Amon, the most experienced healer in Greenwood, looked at the human woman lying on the king's big bed.

"I do not know anything about it, forgive me, I suppose these are the consequences of pregnancy, perhaps because the baby in her womb belongs to the elven race and she is a human woman. Perhaps her body struggles to carry on gestation. " Amon answered.

Thranduil got irritated. "I guess ... perhaps ... I can hardly believe this." he approached the healer, who paled out of embarrassment. "I am baffled by your incompetence."

"Please forgive me, but I really can not explain why she loses consciousness so often, I have visited her, her body is fine, and your child also grows up in a normal way."  Amon stuttered.

"It's her nerves, this woman is a bloody mess of nerves." said the king then. "I should move her to another place."

"Yes, it's a good idea." Amon replied.

"A good idea ... but I had it, not you." Thranduil gave him another of his looks that instantly killed whomever was in the trajectory. "Tell Nim to prepare a room in the coolest part of the kingdom, near the great waterfall of Calenduin, where my wife always went when she wanted to be left alone."

"As you wish, Lord Thranduil." the healer answered, keeping his face down.

"And you will go visit Radagast the Brown, he lives not far from here.That wizard certainly knows more than you about mortals and their damn illnesses." he ordered.
Amon was a very old Elf who had been taking care of all the inhabitants of Greenwood for centuries and had never sought the assistance of a Wizard ... much less of Radagast.

"I do not know if I can trust that Istari, they say he lives in a strange way ... they say he's a bit crazy."
The healer tried to protest.

"In that case he will be the right person to find the solution." Thranduil looked at Roswehn. "... considering the patient."

Amon bowed his head, respectfully. "I'll leave immediately."

Thranduil sat on the bed near Roswehn, and turned to Amon. "Do not dare come back without an answer."

The healer disappeared in a flash.

The king took her hand. "...what's happening to you, meleth nîn?"

He was very worried. He woke up with the girl lying on him, cold and pale. On her face she still had a shocked expression, as if fainting had providentially saved her from the greatest of terrors.

She said there were ghosts in his room, and she was serious, which meant she really saw them. Thranduil did not want to give in to the suspicion that there was something wrong in Roswehn's mind ... he would never fall in love with her, otherwise.

She was stubborn, touchy and a bit childish, perhaps, but she was not crazy. "So what is it?" he asked softly.

He looked around.
His room seemed in perfect order, as always. He got up to inspect it in every corner, but saw nothing unusual. There were not even mirrors, which could sometimes be used by the spirits as passages towards the earthly dimension.
He watched carefully every detail, even behind the bed. He decided that looking under it, would have been too much. Maybe he would have asked one of his attendants to do that.

He saw a glass on the ground. It was heavy glass, and picked it up. Roswehn had evidently let it slip from her hands in fright. There was also a patch of water, and it was there that the king's attention was concentrated.