To Sow a Barren Land
Disclaimer: All rights belong to Tolkien and those involved in the Peter Jackson movies. I mean, I write FANFICS. :'(
Warning: This one is pretty dark. Darkness starts from here.
AN: If the last chapter was serious, then be ready for some ultra mega serious stuff!
Thanks to Juliakaze for suggesting elves being impacted by their emotions. I'm not directly making it the reason for his...ineffectiveness but it will come up as a consideration. You'll know what I mean. ^^;
Chapter 6
"No!" Thorin lunged forward, ignored the desperate grasps that tried keeping him in place and vehemently tried to move in the direction where he was, from that day on, forbidden to do so.
"No! Unhand me!" He screamed and jerked, and summoning all his strength, he moved his feet forward. Little steps were taken and the more he inched ahead, more force he met holding him back, keeping him back and away from his one and only love.
Another step, another more and just when it seemed he had gained enough momentum, his hopes and dreams were altogether shattered when a final pair of strong hands grabbed him around his chest and with all their power, kept him in place.
"No! No, no, no!" His eyes watered up and frantically he raised an arm in the direction of far east, praying that one more time the Mahal would grace him a little miracle. Once more would Thranduil turn back and return.
But Thranduil didn't and by then, Thorin was certain that this was it.
All those dreams woven together, all those promises made with the truest of intentions were nothing more than ghosts now. Ghosts of his past. Ghosts of what would come to pass. Ghosts of what he'd never have.
Slowly, he recoiled his fingers and lowered his arms as hopeless eyes stared into the horizon, where silhouettes of his dream, his wish gradually began fading away, leaving him to prepare for an encounter of stone cold reality.
But for now, he was numb. He was broken.
He was lost.
Thranduil snapped back to his senses when he felt the eyes of his father taking him in with great concern. It seemed that Oropher had been speaking something for he stopped midway to gaze at his son.
Bringing focus to his face, Thranduil turned and couldn't help but curse at his inattentiveness inwardly when it seemed that he had not heard most of that which his father spoke.
"Your mind is elsewhere," noted Oropher, frowning slightly as he rode side by side the other.
"I assure you father, it is mere weariness." Thranduil said, smiling slightly while keeping up with his illegible demeanour which wavered the moment after when Oropher's frown and the intensity of his gaze deepened.
"You have endured journeys far longer than twenty days, ion nín." The king sounded concerned and his face showed it off too. "Are you certain you are not ill?"
His eyes seemed to be flickering with worry running deeper into his heart and if Thranduil didn't know any better, he had seen that exact expression before his mother had sailed to the west.
Quickly, he put on an assuring front and replied with as much confidence as he could, "I am not ill, Adar."
When his words had barely any effect on the older elf, he looked at his father with bright eyes, pleading for him to believe as he said, "I grieve, and it is true."
At that, Oropher's eyes widened slightly in alarm before quickly settling back to their previous state as Thranduil went on, "However, much rests on me. I shall stay strong."
Experienced eyes now flashed a twinge of sympathy and Thranduil was certain that had it been in his hands, Oropher would do all in his power to try and lessen the pain Thranduil felt.
"I am sorry, my son. I wish things had been different," he replied gently, tearing his eyes away from the other and staring ahead. Even if his face was stoic and emotionless, Thranduil's eyes caught on to the inner torment that his father had been experiencing. Oropher's eyes danced with mellow as they tried best to not meet the other's gaze.
Thranduil understood no father wanted to dream his child in such a state much less see it. And since he could not be of much help here, Oropher must've been anguished to force Thranduil away from his happiness. It must've been agonizing for him to be so helpless.
Thranduil had seen the pain all those years ago when his mother succumbed to grief and left for Valinor. Thranduil was seeing it now.
And if he could lessen his father's pain somehow, he'd move mountains to achieve that.
But here, he too was just as helpless.
Dusk was at the edge of the sky. On that particular day, they had undertaken a long journey. His men were tired as was Oropher himself.
"Do not stop." He ordered, urging his escort to go along. "There is still light and we can cover a bit more path."
He intended to cross the remaining patch of wood where he knew of a good and safe clearing.
Looking around, he saw fatigue in the forms of his escort and sighed to himself before saying in an enthusiastic tone, "I know you are all tired. I know you require rest. But trust me. Rest will be sweeter there where we are headed."
His heart was filled with pride when he saw the cloud of exhaustion lifting up from their eyes as the other elves followed their king without any complaint. Satisfied, he now turned to his left where his son rode.
Thranduil had been riding without having to mutter a single syllable. Normally, he wasn't much of a talkative type but he wasn't as silent either and that brought fret to his heart.
"How do you fare, son?" He asked, lowering his tone and looking forward for just a moment.
A frown appeared on his forehead when Thranduil didn't respond. Quickly, Oropher turned his gaze at the other and what he saw deepened his frown and chilled his bones.
Thranduil's eyes...they bore no traces of their normal brightness. Instead, they were marred with a veil of discomfort and restrain that brought only foreboding implications to a father's heart.
"Thranduil?" He called out, his mind racing in worry when yet again, he went unacknowledged.
"Thranduil!"
His son's face was set in an illegible expression but the discomfort in his eyes grew only worse as beads of sweat gathered on his dark brows.
Thranduil's face began trembling. His breathing became short, rapid and laboured. Just as when Oropher was about to reach out, without any warning, Thranduil's face lost its hardness as it twisted in pure anguish while his eyes flashed unbearable pain which he could no longer suppress.
"Thranduil!" Oropher jumped off from his horse and was quickly at the other's side. He was barely able to support him when all of a sudden Thranduil let out an incoherent cry of pain and began toppling off from his ride.
Panic spread to every nook and cranny of Oropher's being as he rushed to hold his son before he fell and caused serious self injuries. His eyes widened in shock when the full weight of Thranduil crashed on to him without any effort coming from the other.
It was dead weight.
Thranduil had not fallen unconscious but was barely on its brink. His breathing was extremely heaving and his forehead was deeply creased, sweating in the terrible pain that had taken hold of him.
Transitioning gently on the ground, Oropher laid his son's head on his lap and looked at him with apprehension. By then, all the others had noticed that something wasn't right and they stopped immediately, wondering what had happened to their prince.
Something which Oropher had no idea.
Thranduil was crossing his hands over his torso and as Oropher tried pulling them apart, his fears all but increased when he felt just how tight Thranduil's arms were.
They were so restraining; no matter how much Oropher tugged at them, Thranduil only seemed to be crossing them tighter.
"What is the matter with you?" Whispered Oropher, fear and concern gripping him tightly as helplessness washed over him.
Was his son fading? Had he grieved too much that his fëa was unable to handle it?
Moans of torment and anguish filled the air; Thranduil was squirming extremely, writhing when finally screams made their way out of his mouth.
"For Eru's sake, bring him some water!" Oropher yelled out at a random elf who rushed to Thranduil's side with a canister.
Water was poured gently into Thranduil's mouth but none of it made its way inside as he squirmed and wreathed too much, screaming out in distress while he lunged upwards before falling hard on his father's lap.
Tears rolled down pale cheeks as his screams now turned into aching cries. He was in so much pain and it was of all times that Oropher wished he knew what ailed his son. He could only heal what he knew...
"What's wrong, my son?" He whispered while his heart throbbing with dread, worry and an upsurge of all other emotions as each cry entered his ears.
Thranduil refused to loosen his hands. With all his force, when Oropher did manage to uncross them, he frowned immediately when Thranduil's hands flung again on his stomach and clutched them tightly.
His eyes widened slowly as realization began crawling in Oropher's mind.
Could it be that Thranduil—
His thoughts were left incomplete as his eyes flew open with horror and utter shock at the feeling of something wet and warm on the hand that supported Thranduil's thighs.
He quickly brought it up and what he saw drained the entire colour away from his face.
Blood!
He felt the area in between his son's thighs and perceived a cold shudder running down his spine when his fears were confirmed.
Thranduil screamed out yet again and rolled over, thereby falling off from Oropher's lap, and it was then that Oropher finally noticed the splash of red all over the ground.
Thranduil's leggings were soaking wet as blood flew and seeped out the fabric. There was too much blood and they gushed out in an unstoppable manner.
Thranduil's face was now red; his throat parched and his clothes were drenched in sweat as the younger elf's cries and moans ripped throughout the forest.
Before he could comprehend anything further, Oropher's eyes caught a young elf guard soaking a piece of cloth and pressing it gently on his son's forehead.
It didn't lessen Thranduil's pain but whatever little could be done to lessen his discomfort was something Oropher gladly welcomed.
He nodded in gratitude to the guard who wiped away the ever accumulating sweat on the prince's face as Thranduil went on crying out in agony while clutching his stomach hard.
A shuddered breath escaped Oropher's lungs as his mind and body was numbed by the realization which washed over him. His heart seemed to be stabbed again and again as he understood that he might've had a hand in it as well.
Elves were after all sensitive beings. Any unbalance of their emotional states made them frail. And Thranduil's emotions were more than simply unbalanced. They were in shambles.
And Oropher might've been at fault as well! Whatever was happening to Thranduil, he was responsible for it as well!
He felt cold and horrified as his mind was rampaged with an onslaught of questions. Those, which he forbade himself to even think about.
How could he let him know? How could he tell his son what had happened? How could he tell him why it had happened?
He closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands.
Oh Valar! What have I done?
His heart was throbbing with guilt and all of a sudden, he found himself wanting to scream out in frustration at the sheer and cruel irony of it all.
Thranduil had finally been with child.
And now, he was losing it.
AN: That was what I meant. I'd love to hear from you guys on what you think, what could be better, what is not needed...please review. :D