To Sow a Barren Land
Disclaimer: Had I owned any of J.R.R Tolkien's works, I'd definitely make a Dwelf baby. And Thorin and Thranduil would be getting it on *on screen* and *in the book*. But...here I am, writing such kind of fanfics and disclaimers. Unfair! *sighs*
AN: So eleven chapters and the plot is heading towards more and more angst. The way I see it, Thorinduil is gonna be an active thing in flashbacks. Because now it's impossible for the two to have fluff (not that it was going to be a fluffy Thorinduil to begin with!). I also doubt if this will be a happy-ending fic. Umm...so that is what I had in my head for a long time. Any suggestions/criticisms? Feel free to throw 'em at me.
Important: Seeing the length and direction of this fic, I decided to break it in parts. I think it'll be more manageable then and...maybe...a it less complicated?
Thank you to everyone who've supported this fic.
Guest: Thanks so much for taking the time to review. I'm super happy to know that you are liking it. I'll try my best to make it clear. :)
'This' means dream sequence. 'This' means normal events.
Chapter 11
It was pitch dark and not a single star outshone the cover of night. The moon would peep in and out of the thick veil of clouds and unlike the stars it provided not enough means to help Thorin's sense of direction.
He looked around and wherever his eyes landed, he saw trees. Tall, dark and ancient, they seemed to soar high up into the sky, concealing whatever little light Thorin got from the moon.
Swallowing hard, Thorin took a deep breath as he ran his fingers over the bark of one particular tree His forehead creased with a frown when massive amounts of concern and fear began gripping his heart tightly.
The bark bore a mark: the very mark which Thorin's knife made not too long ago. Yet, he hadn't stopped. He hadn't made any new marks and there was most certainly no one else who knew the mark of a Durin.
His eyes grew wide and he stepped away. A cold realization swept over his mind and as a result, his heart thrummed so loud that he was sure anyone in the near vicinity could hear it.
Quickly, he took out his sword and stepped cautiously. His senses were heightened. His mind was on full alert and as anticipation drilled its way inside of him, the hold on the hilt of his sword grew tighter and tighter, making sure the only means of his protection didn't slip out of his palms which were now sweating.
With each move he made, his sharp eyes scanned his surroundings, causing him much alarm every time, there would be sound. Even of the faintest form like murmuring of leaves.
He narrowed his eyes in extreme focus as he took another step forward. The forest became more disorienting. The more he walked, the more enclosing it seemed, willing to trap Thorin in its eternal oblivion.
Exhaling, Thorin wearily made his way. By now, his ears took in all the forest emitted. The scraping sound of a cricket grew louder with the growing night. The rustling of dead leaves became crisper as his feet fell upon them. Occasionally, soft gust of breezes would caress the trees, shaking their branches and teasing their leaves, letting out a rustic chime that made the night all the more eerie.
It was then that Thorin had to question himself. Why did he have to break away from his company? Why couldn't he have waited till they reached the safety of that elf kingdom? Doriath, he believed. It was but a day's march. Why couldn't he leave the animal track where it had been? It was far away from where they made camp, anyway!
He turned sharply when he heard a sudden cry. Instinct overtook him as he raised his weapon and set about in a defensive stance. He was ready to strike a fatal blow whenever it dared approach him.
Just then, a rustle of a branch and some leaves could be heard and Thorin looked up with a jolt, tensing when an owl flew past the canopy into that of some other tree.
Thorin closed his eyes and let out a relieved sigh. His body relaxed and he lowered his arms, breathing a few times to calm his rapidly beating heart.
However, whatever relief he had gathered evaporated immediately when his ears picked up the sound of a twig breaking. The sound came from behind and in a flash, Thorin faced the other direction, weapon in arms, rigidly and alertly waiting for the upcoming threat.
He frowned deeply, inhaling with sharpness as another sound of dead leaves flowed towards him. His keen eyes looked around frantically, searching for any sign of what the threat could be. His heart started racing— bit by bit increasing in its pace— as the forest had dappled with a forlorn stillness.
The tension was palpable. Danger was imminent.
Another sound was heard and he gripped his sword even tightly, narrowing his eyes to try and cut through the surrounding darkness.
Suddenly, out of the corner of his vision, he saw a shadow moving behind the trees. Spinning around with an uncanny agility, Thorn's grip on the sword tightened even further as every fibre of his muscle held a rigidity which would snap immediately at the slightest form of attack.
Another sound...another one...
It grew louder. As if it was approaching Thorin himself.
He held his breath and pinned his gaze between bushes where the sound seemed to be coming from.
Another rustling of leaves.
All of a sudden, Thorin leapt into action. His eyes had caught the movement of a large being. Without wasting any time, he raised his sword and swung it violently, only to be caught in utter shock when his weapon clanged against some other metal, sending Thorin tumbling back just as swiftly.
Thorin's eyes were widened with the pure astonishment, catching the cruel gleam which could only be made by the blade of a sword. As the glint became visible, it traced a curve path, which was significantly that of a sword.
Gritting his teeth, Thorin quickly gathered his bearings and took another stance, readying himself for the next blow to come.
He was taken aback once more when none of his anticipation came true.
His eyes had now adjusted well to the darkness. He could now make out that the shadow belonged to no feral creature of the forest. But...to a man?
But what would a man be doing in these regions?
Keeping his gaze fixed on the shadow, Thorin squinted his eyes. As he tried harder, he could see the lean built of his opponent, crouched in a similar alert pose but only, he seemed to be more...elegant.
He was about to ask for an identity or a purpose but his need died down as the moon beams faintly illuminated the spot—enough for Thorin to see.
It was then that Thorin could make out the other. It was then that his breath hitched.
Standing before him was no man. The creature had long, blond which shone brilliantly even in the dimmest of lights. His face was smooth and flawless. His eyes directed at Thorin revealed confidence and warning, daring Thorin to make any move against him. His lips were parted slightly as the other took Thorin in, deciding whether or not he posed a threat.
His hands were placed on his sword and it was the glint of that particularly reversed curved edge which had caught Thorin's eyes. From the make, it was sure to be elvish. As the moonbeams fell on it, it shone with such a deadliness causing Thorin's heart to be filled with a new kind of thrill.
And as the cool rays caressed the delicate features of the creature himself, brushing against his luscious brows, long tipped nose, tips of his pointed ears, delicate cheeks and lips, he glowed with in eeriness and beauty, that took Thorin's breath away.
Thorin had seen elves. Thorin had found them fair.
But this one...this one was probably what Mahal took utmost care to build, pouring his love and exasperating talent, all in one single form.
With a huge gasp, Thorin's eyes flew open. He let out a groan, rubbing his temples while his mind was still addled with the images remnant in his head. They were so vivid and clear...as if it was only yesterday when the event had taken place.
The dwarf sat up, placing a hand on his chest, trying his best to calm his heart down from the overwhelming dream he had seen.
But it was more than that. It was a memory.
A memory when he and Thranduil had first met. A chuckle escaped Thorin's lips unbeknownst to him as he replayed the occurrence over and over in his head.
As irony would have it, most epic tales of love would begin in a romantic backdrop where the main protagonists were gentle and shy and full of mirth.
Thorin honestly doubted how many began with two individuals trying to almost kill each other, thinking either one was a wild animal! Though much to his relief, both he and Thranduil came to the conclusion that either of them was harmless. And that Thorin was indeed lost. And that Thranduil was simply unable to sleep.
Later, Thorin would come to know Thranduil and his father arranging for their new realm in Doriath while he and his consort were maintaining diplomacy with the king. Later, Thorin would come to know how strongly he felt for the elf and how strongly the elf felt for him.
A knock on his door interrupted Thorin from his thought. He groaned with sluggishness and commanded with a sleep-laden voice, "What is it?"
"You are expected, my prince." He was replied by a humble attendant.
"Expected? For what?" He asked, frowning in confusion. He didn't recall any special event. He wasn't to leave for...wherever it was for a few days!
The attendant looked perplexed as well, making Thorin wonder just what he had missed.
Finally the other dwarf responded with an amusing tone, "Your engagement, Your Majesty."
At that, all of his confusion vanished away.
He had completely forgotten about it. Rather, he didn't bother to remember.
Thorin's heart suffered another deep wretch as his mind quickly shuffled through the long cherished memory. Soon, he'd have to pledge himself to one who could never hold his heart. Soon, he'd vow to a life of feign and false promises.
Soon he'd have nothing but memories of his true One to hold dear. For he could now never hold Thranduil close; never taste the sweetness of his lips nor hear the chime of his laughter.
"What?" Oropher's eyes flashed with hurt pride as he furiously glared at his son. "You want to travel Doriath? For excess food?"
Thranduil remained calm and his confidence never wavered under the scrutinizing gaze of his father, which all but increased Oropher's anger as he sneered, "Do you realize what this represents? That I am not a proper king. That I am unable to sustain my people!"
"Weakening them just to satisfy your image in front of Thingol is no act of a proper king too, Adar!" Thranduil responded haughtily, looking straight towards the king.
Oropher's eyes flashed at the insolence displayed before him. "Are you lecturing me now, boy?" He admonished, ego flashing in those green orbs before they hardened much like his tone. "Are you so grown to advice your own father and king?"
"I merely suggest what could be good for our people." Thranduil replied, an exasperated expression etched on his face. "I never doubt your judgement, Adar. I only counsel you this time for we have endured a harsh winter before. Our people are weak!"
"You haven't endured anything!" All of a sudden, Oropher's voice echoed throughout the hall, causing everyone—including Thranduil—to startle. Bewildered eyes stayed frozen on the king as he sharply rose up from his throne.
"You were in Erebor while we had to endure. You were in the arms of that dwarf while we had to toil ourselves to gather enough food!" Oropher's eyes were blazed with anger and as he spoke, his tongue could no longer hold in the venom he unknowingly held against that Godforsaken race.
"And to what effect?" he hissed, coming down and heading straight towards the prince. "And to what effect?" He stood before Thranduil whose gaze still was fixed upon him. "Where has it gotten you? You were used by that ill-willed house. You were blamed by those uneducated Halflings and you were cast aside after they had no use of you! Where did your judgement go then? Where was your counsel when you needed it the most?"
He widened his eyes and gasped sharply as his words abruptly faced a halt. His lips trembled and a huge wave of shock rolled within his chest as he began seeing clearly. The rage he had in him subsided away in a matter of seconds as he took in the widened eyes of his own son.
Thranduil's face was ashen and his eyes...his eyes trembled with much aghast. Filled with shock and a sense of betrayal, he looked at his father, his mouth ajar, stricken at what escaped Oropher's mouth.
The king realized he had caught himself too late. He felt his heart twisting with a sense of guilt while he tried to suck in air, crushed out from his lungs.
"My son." Gingerly, he tried to place a hand on Thranduil's shoulder. But when the other jerked away, Oropher curled his fingers and took his hand down forming a tight fist as his chest began throbbing with increasing sense of remorse.
A crushing silence followed and sprayed the hall a thick and uncomfortable feeling.
Suddenly, Thranduil's shock dissipated and face clenched with restraint. His eyes shone with the familiar resolve he had about him and he spoke in a certain voice capturing Oropher's entire attention, "Doriath will not think of us any lesser. It has food. It has solutions. Now that I bear the right judgement, Adar, I will go there."
Seeing the determinism in the other, Oropher sighed. He closed his eyes, contemplating in his mind a lot before he spoke, opening them with finality, "Very well."
He saw the speck of relief bordering the other's face and resisted the urge to frown when he thought he had seen Thranduil swaying on his legs. However, he chalked it up to his mind playing tricks as he double checked the firmness in his son's stance and said, "You shall go to Doriath. Take Rainion with you. He assists you and he can help."
Thranduil opened his lips but closed it immediately. Perhaps he was going to protest, which was why Oropher spoke again, but this time with a bit more influence in his voice, "You both shall leave within this week. Return as soon as possible."
Thranduil bowed and left. He was heard taking a deep breath and at that, Oropher resisted his own urge to sigh.
He had not intended to say all those things to Thranduil. He hadn't intended to blame him! How could he? But those dwarves...after what they did, he was not at all surprised to find the extent of his anger towards them.
They were troublesome. They could not be trusted.
Rainion brushed away a stray lock away from Thranduil's face. They were to leave in two days' time and once again they had performed their casual encounter.
Once more Thranduil looked distant; once more he cried out his unknown meleth's name; once more did Rainion's heart get stabbed with a pang of sadness and jealousy.
With a mellowed gaze, he looked at the peaceful face of his prince as he continued stroking his hair. Thranduil didn't mind. He wasn't even aware. However, this time was different. Thranduil looked...paler than usual. And Thranduil slept.
For once, he didn't leave.
Worry filled the elf's heart but soon, it was washed over with an unrequited pang. For all Rainion knew, he must've been dreaming about the one who held his heart. And it wasn't him.
Rainion knew. And he hated being used as a secondary. Especially when he held great feelings for the other.
AN: You probably guessed where Thorin is supposed to be heading and you've guessed right. But for what, you wonder...unless...you've figured it out too (which is most likely). Anyway, what do you think of this insane work so far? If there are spaces for improvement, do let me know!