To Sow a Barren Land
Disclaimer: All rights belong to those who own the rights which belong to them. A.k.a Not me.
AN: Serious stuff ahead!
Many thanks to those who've taken the time to review/follow/fave. Thank you :)
Chapter 5
Thranduil was striding down the hallway and each step he took brought him closer to a destination of which he had no idea. The one leading him said nothing either. He was simply asked to follow at an urgent notice and considering the way he was asked, Thranduil decided to put on his best clothes.
As they headed down further interior to the palace, however, his decision was proven right. Thranduil was new to this wing of the palace but from the embellished décor and the lack of servants, he gathered that they must be in one of the private wings of the palace, reserved for the senior members of the family.
He sighed looked about, hoping to get any sign of what he would be subjected to.
"Where am I being taken?" He finally asked when curiosity got the better of him, only to be received by a stone-cold silence.
His eyes flashed with arrogance as Thranduil's sense of pride was not given proper respect. Lifting his chin, he frowned and asked again in a tone much more haughty, "I am the Prince of Greenwood, dwarf and I demand to know where I am going!"
In response, they both halted in front of a heavily furnished door and the dwarf who had been leading, slightly turned towards Thranduil, jerking his head a little, motioning for the elf to go inside.
Before Thranduil could ask anything else, the dwarf took his leave, leaving him standing all alone in front of the door as a strange and uncertain feeling overtook him.
He softly knocked and stood straight, running his fingers through his hair to ensure he was perfectly presentable. By the events which were unravelling all so suddenly, he expected who it was on the other side of the door...and truth be told, he was least keen to want to meet him.
Finally, a deep voice was heard granting him permission and Thranduil gingerly placed his hands on the door, opening it with just as much hesitance while he stepped in.
Much to his amusement, he found his guess to be right for the second time that morning.
"Greetings, Your Majesty." He humbly acknowledged the occupant of the chamber and graced him with a courteous bow, all the while battling with himself to keep his composure.
Four days had passed since they had visited the healer and Thranduil could not help but wonder why he was being summoned by the king of Erebor himself when they were supposed to be preparing for his father's arrival.
Speaking of which...why hadn't his father arrived?
At Thrór's gesture, Thranduil straightened and set his eyes on the king. Thrór was strong and determined as always. Being so close to him without Thorin's presence was indeed a little intimidating.
"I was told of an urgent matter." Thranduil initiated, hoping that Thrór would soon come to point. He stiffened soon after when the other's eyes fell on him, analyzing him with a gravity which only attributed to a powerful king and an over protective grandfather.
A notion which did least to soothe him, especially as a cloud of anxiety began casting over his already thrumming heart.
He didn't know how long had he been standing there, poised yet stiff—conscious of a pair sharp eyes reading into him— but he did feel extremely certain that should it continue, Thranduil would soon lose his calm and appear the undignified mess he already was deep within.
Finally much to his relief, Thrór spoke up.
"I was informed of your examination."
A small flinch was elicited from him as a reaction while Thranduil tried his best not to let his impervious mask slip away.
He swallowed lightly and nodded, unable to ignore the flutter inside his stomach as Thrór's intense gaze again befell on him.
"I was informed of the result as well." The King went on, taking a few steps towards the other as his voice remained level.
Thranduil felt a growing uneasiness and suddenly, he began feeling unwell. He was overwhelmed as his heart began thrumming loudly against his ears; his mouth went dry and within his chest, a cold sharp void swirled around, leaving him feeling so...queasy!
Thrór took his time and even though Thranduil wanted to yell at him and get it over with, he had to remain still for the sake of courtesy, no matter how much his intuition prodded him in the opposite direction.
The dwarf king probably saw the impatience escaping through his carefully guarded demeanour and decided to be done with it.
"It is not Thorin." He said with exceptional clarity—exactly what Thranduil wanted, but not what he desired. "It's you."
Thranduil's eyes grew bigger as a wall of ice crashed mercilessly on his heart. A cold feeling engulfed him as he stood frozen, revelling at the words that he heard.
It couldn't be. It couldn't be!
He opened his mouth but all that came out was a gust of dry air. His lips moved but he could not speak. His mind screamed, but his throat hid his voice.
His breathe became rapid, heart beat increasing in pace and sound, blood rushed away from his face and his hands trembled while his mind still tried grasping what he knew all along.
How could they know? How could they be so sure?
He thought frantically, wide eyes looking to and fro the floor.
How could they conclude so surely when none of them knew how the body of an elf worked? Why did they have to lie to him? How cruel could the Valar be so unkind that they had taken away the last shrivel of hope Thranduil was clinging to?
Once more his heart ached as it was twisted by a new realization.
If Thranduil was unable to bear any children, what would become of them? What would become of their future?
Unshed tears stung in his eyes. His vision grew unclear as he took unsteady steps away from Thrór. Even if the king called out to him or provided him a support of some kind, Thranduil didn't acknowledge. His mind was too clouded and his heart was too much in pain to be conscious of everything else around him.
The air grew so thick and so heavy. His lungs were burning as his breaths grew shallower by the second. It was so suffocating!
His insides fluttered yet again and his head swayed slightly when a bout of darkness descended down his eyes.
His feet became more unsure as he stumbled his way back, only to be colliding against something heavy with his back.
With the sudden impact, he found little clarity in his vision and continued retreating, swaying dangerously with each step.
He seemed so worse that even Thrór was rushing forward to assist him but Thranduil could care less. Flinching away from the king, he somehow made out of the chamber and once he did, Thranduil was determined to head for his room—even if he had to cling to the walls for support.
He needed privacy. He needed to be alone.
It's over...there is no hope.
He tumbled and swayed dangerously, his head spinning on and off with spells of darkness coming down his eyes.
He was exhausted from the walk back and frankly, had there been no walls to support him, Thranduil was unsure how he'd reach his chamber. If he would reach at all.
A few more steps...
Right in front of the turning where the slab of wall ended, familiar wooden doors came to view, bringing Thranduil a great amount of relief.
Finally he could be alone!
Mustering up all his strength, he felt the walls with his hands. But...even this simple act was turning into an extremely tedious one. A frown creased his brow as Thranduil was again overtaken by fatigue.
His head...oh his head! It was spinning so uncontrollably and suddenly, all other sounds seemed to die down while his ears echoed off his own beating heard.
His hands were shaking. His knees were far too weak...still he carried on.
Another step...another one...
His breathing was laboured and the uneasy feeling in his chest was too cumbersome to handle.
Slamming against the door, he managed to open it and instead of registering pain where he collided, he stumbled frantically towards the bed as his head felt extremely light.
His knees were buckling and feet extremely misleading, they tangled with themselves, causing Thranduil to trip and fall uncontrollably.
His eyes were seeing darkness; the sounds were becoming more and more muffled and his heart beat so wildly that it almost caused him pain in his chest.
At the very last moment, he flailed his arms and somehow managed to hold on to something, thus breaking his speed.
As he hurled, he felt dragging away a piece of fabric, followed by the sound of metals as they clinked and clattered.
His senses numbed away, his head extremely light and dizzy as his grip on the fabric loosened with a forceful lethargy. And as he was fully engulfed by darkness, Thranduil fell on to the floor, gently slipping away into a state of unconsciousness.
A soft hum escaped his lips as he turned towards the warmth he felt on his cheek. It was so warm and so gentle...so familiar and loving that Thranduil subconsciously couldn't help himself from nuzzling against the touch.
He sighed when he felt nimble fingers brushing his scalp and as comforting the feeling was, he frowned at the oddity of it.
He distinctively remembered being all alone in the room.
He drew his hands closer and pulled up the sheet to cover himself better, only to have his confusion enhanced in the form of a deep frown.
Sheets?
That meant he was in a bed! And not alone!
Blue eyes flew open as he sat up, bewilderment marring every bit of his delicate feature while he looked around.
It was their room. But he was on a bed! He didn't remember reaching the bed to even begin with! He passed out on the floor...
His eyes widened even further when he felt a touch on his shoulder, tugging him backwards, urging him to lie down.
That touch...that familiar touch...
He turned his face slightly, narrowing his eyes when he took note of a slender hand which surely didn't belong to any dwarf!
"Lie down, ion."
A voice spoke gently, making Thranduil to raise his head and take in the person who had spoken it with utter disbelief.
"Adar." He rasped out, unmindful of how he was leaned back against a pillow.
It was his father! His father was here? When had he arrived?
As if he heard Thranduil's unspoken questionnaire, Oropher smiled gently and began stroking his son's cheek with the back of his hand.
"I arrived a few hours ago." He informed, holding back the other who attempted again to sit up. "I was talking to King Thrór when they informed us you had fainted."
At the mention of the dwarf king, Thranduil's eyes were on alert as he stiffened immediately.
"Thrór?" He was tense the moment after while recollecting the events leading up to his fainting and as he did, the uneasiness and cold void he felt within himself again came back. "What had he to say?"
Oropher frowned lightly and it all but increased the anxiety in Thranduil. He stared at his father with eyes brightening with worry and moved his lips wordlessly, unsure of how to voice the fret he began experiencing.
His fears doubled when Oropher sighed and closed his eyes.
"Everything, ion nín," said the elven king, tightening his hold on Thranduil's hand as the other became extremely pallid.
"Everything?"
"Yes, everything. Though, I was not surprised to learn about your relationship. I had seen it coming, I suppose." Oropher smiled weakly, stroking his son's cheek as the other seemingly became more distressed. "And that only further resolves me to let you know my intentions of coming here. And take you back with me."
A gasp escaped Thranduil's mouth as all he felt was coldness.
"Back? Why?" He asked weakly, his voice breathless from the dread he tried pushing at the back of his mind.
Oropher seemed miserable at his son's condition. He sighed out yet again before setting his face with a sympathetic resolution.
"You can't bear his children." The King said, and surely he noticed Thranduil turning his face away, which caused him to hold his hand yet again. "We need heirs, ion nín. And since you were unable to do so with him, we must find a way to secure our throne."
If only Oropher could see how much his words were hurting his son! Each word he spoke pierced Thranduil's heart, causing him so much anguish.
"I'm sorry if I sound cruel. I can only imagine how much it must be on you...but my son, we have better healers. We have better consult. If things go our way, one day you shall be able to carry...and in any case you are unable to..."
Oropher trailed off and Thranduil closed his eyes tightly, preventing the tears from slipping down his cheeks.
He heard his father inhaling loudly as he went on. This time his tone was softer, mellower.
"And if you are unable to, we must bring you a wife."
It was Thranduil's turn to inhale. At the sharp sound, he felt his father squeezing his hand lightly, hoping to provide some form of comfort to his already suffering son.
A comfort of some form only...for the real one was already taken away when he was denied of his prayers.
"Though it is not why I came. And it is good that we are alone." He heard his father speak again and now, he was unable to stay facing away. It had really escaped his mind the purpose of the king's visit.
"Why?" Thranduil felt his eyes narrowing as confusion gripped him tight. "Why have you come, Adar? What has happened?"
At that, Oropher's eyes dimmed a little, portraying specks of sadness which immediately worried Thranduil.
"What has happened?" He pressed on, gazing into his father's eyes, hoping to pick up some clue. However, it was unneeded as Oropher began speaking shortly after.
"This winter has been particularly harsh on us. Food is scarce and we are weak. We require new grains to cultivate and we need you to help administer."
Thranduil was shocked. He felt guilt. Had it been that bad? Of course how would he know? While he was here with Thorin, well fed and well rested, his people were struggling!
All of a sudden, it made sense! Why his father and his escorts took too much time to arrive! They were weakened!
"The rations?" He asked, sighing out when Oropher shook his head.
"Only Lembas. They feed but provide not enough nourishment. We plan to bring in new grains; we already have two patches of land selected for cultivation. They lie on opposite clearings. While I administer one, someone must oversee the other...and these crops being common in use by the dwarves, you possess suitable knowledge." He paused, looking over at the younger elf, "And I trust my son more than any of my advisors...especially in times of dire need. I need you back."
Thranduil stayed quiet for a while, taking his eyes off from his father and settling them on his hands while being deep in thought.
He was not rushed and he was not interrupted.
Going back meant he'd have to leave Thorin, his dreams of their future together...he'd be crushed. He was crushed and Thorin would be as well. However, if he could never gift Thorin a child, then he'd only be jeopardising his future...his throne...their respective thrones.
On the other hand, he had duties towards his people. They both did. And Thranduil was needed more back in his home—especially when half his people were starving and weak from hunger.
He bit his lips and closed his eyes as a sharp pang made his heart throb. If he stayed with Thorin, he would hold him back. He'd never fulfil the dwarf's single wish and he just couldn't take Thorin's happiness away from him. He had no right to.
Crystal tears rolled down his cheeks and he felt his hand squeezed tightly but he was too much in pain to even bother with his father's gestures of support.
Thorin deserved a happy life, a child. His father deserved a grandson, a surety for their dynasty. Their people needed him.
His tears thickened, dripping down his chin and shedding away the ache he felt deep within himself.
Thranduil had decided.
He'd let Thorin his fair share of happiness—even if it was without him. He'd entitle his people with theirs. If his duties lay elsewhere, then so be it.
As of that moment, he had released Thorin from their bond. As of that moment, a large part of Thranduil had disappeared.
AN: AHA! A twist! And you know...Oropher is shown to be so strict but I believe that he was so because he really loved his son and his people. I mean, he had pride issues and all but there was a reason Thranduil went to fight by his side in BoFA (rather tahn just taking it as a duty) and if he was that much of a jerk, The Silvans wouldn't have accepted him as their king, now would they? Just a thought. :P Please review!