To Sow a Barren Land
Disclaimer: Okay so let's face it: I write fanfics. If I had any right, I'd totally absolutely positively make Thranduil be the birthing parent of Legolas and it'd do away with so many questions about his mom. OR I would make Kíli and Fíli Thorin and Thrandy's little beebee boy and they'd live as would Thorin and they'd all live happily ever after! OR I'd show Galion's face a bit clearer in the movies. OR I'd make Thorinduil and either Kíliel or Kílilas (yes, KÍLILAS) totally cannon, hot and happenin'!
But...I only write fanfics. So...
AN: So in this chapter, I tried to give a "medical" reason for Thranduil's infertility. "Medical" because if you show this to any doctor in the real world, I'll definitely get a bitch slap.
Thanks to Juliakaze for her enormous patience and awesome explanation of certain details in a normal human which causes infertility. She's right. It's amazing we're born how we are born!
To everyone who've supported this fic- thank you!
Chapter 7
Muffled sounds could be heard around him, their very essence bearing carefulness and secrecy as if it wasn't intended for Thranduil himself.
His brows twitched lightly as consciousness made its way little by little. Gradually, the muffled voices became clearer and even though they were hushed, it was fairly easy for Thranduil to identify one of them as that belonging to his own father.
He caressed at the spot beside his face and curled his fingers around. A frown made its way to his temples thereafter as Thranduil began to clench what it seemed like a soft delicate thing.
It wasn't the feel of grass. Nor was it anything closer to the feel of his home back in Greenwood.
So then where was he?
The voices stung his ears now. Oropher sounded mad. He was heard hissing roughly at someone who kept his or her tone down and explained something to him in a controlled yet quiet tone, calming the king down to some extent.
Slowly, Thranduil began cracking open his eyes and resisted his urge to wince. Within mere seconds, all his eyes took in was bleared shapes that slowly morphed into coherent images, which in turn settled to picture perfect clarity.
Gently, his surrounding was unfolded and as he took it in, Thranduil couldn't help but feel his mind being muddled with a lot of questions.
Around him were angling walls of cloth. The space was big but not as much as a room. He guided his eyes to his direct line of sight where he could see a patch of green shining vibrantly among the daylight. Immediately, he felt his frown deepen at the sheer oddity of everything and narrowed his eyes before shifting them slightly, letting them land on the drawn back flap of a tent.
But a tent?
He didn't recollect setting up camp! No...in fact, the last thing he did remember was riding on his elk and hearing his father ordering the others to head for...a little while longer. Yes, that was what he remembered.
But what about the rest?
His eyes were narrowed further as confusion marred his delicate face. He closed them for a short while before opening them up again and resting them on the small sight of the forest he had before him.
His mind raced to tie the strings of recollection he had but it wasn't enough! Thranduil in his heart knew that there was a large and important portion he was missing and he urged his mind to remember and remember hard.
The voices were still around him and were engaged with themselves so much that they hadn't yet noticed Thranduil.
Truthfully, the young prince was relieved not to have attention on him. It of course didn't make him think clearly but by not fussing over him, Thranduil was at least not distracted from trying to work out his confusion either.
Suddenly, azure eyes widened as his mind seemingly made a sharp leap from the state of utter confusion to deadly remembrance.
It all came back to him! The sharp shooting of pain tearing his body apart; the feeling of losing his balance, the horrifying screams rippling their way out of his throat and the pain.
The pain...it was so excruciating which Thranduil never felt before. Never in his life. It was just like being stabbed with a white hot knife but only it was worse! His stomach—
Thranduil jolted to sit upright, pressing them over where it had hurt before as frantic hands roamed all over the flat plane of his torso.
The voices around him stopped about him and in a flash of a moment, he felt strong arms taking hold of his shoulders, jerking them slightly before pulling him into a hug.
Thranduil did not embrace back. His mind was too busy connecting the necessary dots.
Bit by bit, as new connections were forged, a terrible sense of fear began gripping his heart. His chest started aching with a sudden pressurizing feeling and no matter how much he tried suppressing it, even by clutching his hand over the area, Thranduil felt as if there was an overwhelming sensation building up inside him.
If he couldn't let it out, he'd surely die.
The pair of arms were now wrapping tightly against him as he was pulled back a little from the hug. He vaguely registered the call of his name. Even the gentle tap on his cheeks were ignored.
All that kept racing in his mind was one thought and one thought alone.
No.
His heart was thumping erratically; a cold chill ran up and down his spine and his breaths were swollen so much that Thranduil found it extremely difficult for his lungs to hold air.
No!
Another voice was calling out to him. A gentler voice, a calm voice while the other sounded much panicked as Thranduil was shaken lightly by his cheeks.
His hands were trembling now. The more Thranduil realized, more were they overtaken by frightful tremors.
His chest was growing extremely heavy and his breaths were rapid and pained. Dread irked his heart and the more his mind nudged towards what seemed to be the only explanation of all the events, more he tried his best keeping the conclusion to the darkest corners of his beings where he dared not face them.
However, he soon grew weary and just as he gave up the last bit of control, all the revelations, the realizations came in a rush, flooding his heart and mind with the stone cold truth with inhumane brutality.
No please Eru Iluvatar! Let it not be so!
His torso was hurting from him clutching them too painfully. The trembles in his hands increased; the pressure in his chest was now too much to bear and the cold chill which had surrounded him pierced him like needles.
No no no!
He kept his face blank and empty—emotion incapable from seeping into the pallid feature—much like the void he felt in his heart. Even if he was called, he hadn't the state to notice. Even if he was whispered soothing words, he hadn't the energy to register.
Then, without any warning, his face cracked. His lungs felt like being crushed and something heavy felt like sitting on his chest. Before long, a guttural scream echoed throughout the tent and it took Thranduil long after to realize it was he who had been letting out that scream.
It was then that Thranduil realized what that overwhelming feeling was.
It was the feeling of loss.
"I'm at a loss for words." Oropher said, handing a drought to his son who simply turned his face away.
It had taken long but finally Thranduil was calm, although his composure had nothing to do with serenity. It was an eerie calmness that engulfed him much like the emptiness he felt in his womb.
He bit his lips and closed his eyes for a moment before settling them on his lap.
Apparently, the dwarf healer was wrong. There was no such elf-dwarf incompatibility. He was carrying a child. He could carry a child. Thorin's child. But he couldn't maintain it.
His heart wrenched with agony as shards of his thoughts pierced his tender spot.
He couldn't maintain it...
"Ion nín, you must drink this." He felt the strong smelling drought hovering near his nose. With extreme lethargy, Thranduil reached out for it and drank it before just as blankly he returned it to someone who took it without any words.
Oropher's sigh could be heard and all it did was make Thranduil frown in slight irritability. He hadn't asked anyone to be with him. He hadn't asked for some drought. He didn't want it!
"You had better listen what the healer has to say." The king spoke and when Thranduil gave no response, his face was turned towards his father as the elven king gripped his chin.
Oropher gazed sharply into the other's eyes and at that, Thranduil couldn't help but feel his chest tighten as attentiveness was forced upon him. His father always had been intimidating and no matter how hard one tried, he could never outrun Oropher's demand for attention when he warranted it.
Now was no exception either. His own eyes widened slightly at the authority the king possessed before morphing to an exhaust laden focus as he looked over at the healer.
Finally gaining her prince's attention, the healer bowed and started off with her apologies, making Thranduil's innards churn with a latent anger.
She was sorry for his loss? How could she feel sorry when her words were laced with so much practiced ease and charitable sympathy?
He frowned slightly, letting hold of his irritation so that they didn't show much on his face. All the time, he himself tried his best not to lash out as the she-elf went on.
However, his anger and annoyance soon disappeared when the healer began making her point.
"As you know, Your Highness, that all male elves can carry. And as it is the case for all, their wombs remain dormant and remain hidden unless they receive." She paused, sweeping her eyes over the addressed. When Thranduil's attention didn't seem undivided, she continued in the same calm voice, "It is not that their wombs will be active after their first time. It may take many times before they can actually conceive. Once they have given birth, whatever transitions they have gone through become undone. Meaning, the womb returns to being dormant again and is such that it never existed."
"I understand." Thranduil replied quietly, when another meaningful pause was given by the healer for his feedback.
Satisfied, the healer nodded and explained, "Now I have used the word 'active'. It means, Even if the womb is invoked, it may or may not begin functioning yet. Although, in general, male elves do not have to wait long for them to be able to be active and conceive."
Thranduil's eyes flickered suddenly as he took in the sudden hesitant look on her face. He narrowed his eyes and inhaled, ignoring the uneasiness he felt in his heart as he prompted the other to continue, "What else?"
The expression she gave made his chest constrict even more as he was again overtaken by a chilling sense of trepidation.
"However," The healer sighed and took in a deep breath.
Thranduil's jaws slacked. Unbeknownst to him, his eyes began widening and as he looked up at the other, they shone with a brightness which only attributed to one who clasped to a remaining part of hope with all his strength, daring it to be taken away from him.
After all, that was exactly what he was doing. He was clutching at his last hope, pleading it not to flee away from his grasp.
She rested her eyes on her prince and quickly brought on a mask of professionalism, as she went on, "However in your case, as I have examined, your womb...it...cannot come out of its latency."
As soon as the hope had appeared in those azure orbs, it had slipped away from them just as swiftly when for the second time, harsh reality was served up to Thranduil.
"Even if it does, after a very long time, it is not matured enough to be agreeable for your child. And it is bec—"
"What are you trying to say?"
She was startled from being abruptly cut off by the younger elf who glared at her with his piercing orbs.
He couldn't bear listening to it any longer. Anger bubbled inside Thranduil was once more he was explained why he was so useless! To be told again and again of his futileness...it was wearing him down!
He glared sharply at the healer and upon seeing her so courteous and proper, he fumed.
What is it that you are trying to say?" His mouth was set in a snarl and words came out in a tone that was laced with every bit of bitterness he had been feeling. "That I will never be able to bear a child? That each time I do by the Valar's miracle, I'll only end up losing it? Is that what you mean to say?"
"Calm down, Thranduil." His father spoke, tugging his hand to restrain him from speaking—an action which made him all the more furious.
His eyes flashing in rage, he promptly ignored his father and felt all his self-constraint and self-loathe rushing their way out and at someone who had done nothing to deserve any sort of reprimand.
But he was helpless. He couldn't contain his anger anymore.
"Of course that is what you mean! But you know not how to say it to me," Thranduil hissed, clenching his fists tightly, "I'm unfit to have any children. I'm unwell. You can't give me any guarantee that I'll ever be successful in having a babe. What? What is that? Another drought?"
He glowered dangerously at the small cup which the healer was filling up.
"You think another silly drought will help cure me?" Thranduil was enraged and his eyes were blazing with fury at the healer's apparent insolence.
When she lowered her eyes at his correct deduction, Thranduil hardened his eyes in a glare as his insides were being turmoiled by an unforgiving rage.
"That is all." Oropher said, his voice growing hard. "This is no way to behave and you know it!"
"My apologies father," Thranduil smirked bitterly before his mouth contorted to an acidic sneer, "She gives me a drought and she hopes to cure me."
Oropher's own vision sharpened but Thranduil's eyes didn't linger long enough on his father. He turned his attention back on the other and scowled venomously, "You can't cure me. Not with some idiotic potion. You know very well it does nothing! You wouldn't be avoiding my gaze otherwise!"
He suddenly rose up and snatched the cup from her hands and without any alarm, threw it on the ground, startling everybody when the clay container smashed in pieces, spilling the liquid all over.
"That," He pointed at the mess, holding her fearful gaze in his incensed one, "can't cure me. Nothing can cure me. I will not be feigned by false hope!"
"Thranduil you cross your limit!"
All of a sudden, Oropher's voice boomed throughout the tent.
Thranduil snapped out of his fit and turned sharply at his father. For a while he said nothing.
Eyes big with shock, his orbs trembled as he took in his father's strong face and barely suppressed a shudder as he felt a cold wash of hopelessness sweeping all over him.
For a long while, Thranduil simply stared at the king, shock and bewilderment draining the entire colour away from his face. His eyes flickered and his mouth trembled slightly as he tried to speak all those unspoken words echoing torturously in his heart and mind. He opened his mouth but all that came out was air. His eyes reflected all the pain, the anguish, the confusion and shattered hope...yet, not a single word escaped his mouth.
Finally, his eyes graced composure. Ignoring the mellowness set in his own father's expression, he tore his gaze away from the other and faced the healer.
"It is best that I not be allured by a false hope." He spoke with an eerie calmness which would incur a cringe from the other two beings in that tent.
Thranduil closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The way he spoke befell his strong demeanour, only proving what he uttered next. "I'm tired of hearing what I am. From you, the dwarf healer."
Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Oropher frowning lightly but he was weary and he simply wanted to be left alone.
"I'm infertile and that is what I can't change." He drew out a sigh, before facing his father with a cold sharpness in his orbs. "What I can change is the condition of our people. I shall start as soon as we reach Greenwood."
Oropher's stiff expression did not go unnoticed. Before anyone could say anything further, Thranduil bowed and headed out of the tent to find a quiet spot where he could be with himself. As he was making his way towards the exit, a hand was placed on his belly while the corners of his eyes began stinging.
Now that he was confirmed what he was, he had no option but to try and accept it.
And it was revolting.
AN: I know what you're thinking, did Oropher not know about Thranduil's previous examination? Or that he did and he hated dwarves prodding his son. Hmmmm... ;)
It'll come up shortly. But till then, if you have any questions regarding the "medical" explanation, ask me! I'll try my best to clarify. Please review. :)