To Live Again: The Road to War {Lord of the Rings Fanfiction}|

4. Little Light

I don't hear what else the healer has to say, her voice is just a distant hum. My mind has exploded with a million questions. Most prominent of those being; why can I not feel my own baby?

Isn't that the whole point of being an elven mother? You are supposed to know these things! You are supposed to know that you are carrying something very precious, so you don't go gallivanting off into the woods to get bitten by a spider! I feel an icy panic run up my spine as I try to calculate how long I have been pregnant, and what exactly have I been up to that could have been harmful.

Thranduil is incessantly questioning Eithril, his tone low but fast. So fast that there are times when I can barely translate what he is saying. In fact, sometimes I am not quite sure if he is talking at all, instead just making shocked squeaks. I think it is when the tears actually start rolling down my cheeks that he stops and regards me for a moment. Eithril goes to speak, but he holds up his hand in a silencing motion, his expression towards the healer is that of impatience. In a flurry of movement he has eased across the bed and is cupping my face in his hands, trying desperately to push away the tears- which are freely flowing from my eyes -with his thumbs.

"Clara what is it?" he asks, his voice unsure and his eyes filled with confusion.

"The...I-I...the baby...and th-the bite," I just about snuffle out before I slap my hand to my head and start to hyperventilate again. Oh, I can be so articulate when I am emotional!

"Clara...wait...stop!" Thranduil mutters and tries to pry my hand from my head, to get me to look at him, I assume. He eventually achieves this with great difficulty. "Clara, ssshhh, the baby is well."

"That's not the point! I am the mother I should have known!" I cry, rip back the sheets and stumble out of the bed, ignoring their pleas for me to stay put and the searing pain that shoots up my leg. I need to walk, or pace... or something. I'm pregnant...I am carrying a baby...and I didn't even know! I should have known! I am a terrible mother; I don't even know my own baby! The healer babbles something about being through some trauma, and not to worry about it, but I just stare at her in shock. How can I not worry about it? Thranduil, sensing the familiar wide eyed look of fright in my eyes, quickly steps in and swiftly takes control;

"Give us a moment please," he tells Eithril with an apologetic look, which I assume is on my behalf. She gives me a worried glance and attempts to articulate a protest, but Thranduil is quicker. "I know what she needs, I know my wife." To this she nods and leaves us, still glancing over me nervously on her way out. Obviously she was expecting tears of joy and celebration, and I start to sniffle again because I should be happy, not freaking out!

There is a long moment of silence, and I wonder if Thranduil was lying when he said he knew what I needed. In a daze, I hop over to the dresser and splash my face with the cold water from the wash bowl. The cold water sort of shocks me, and does the trick in calming me down, so that I get passed the point of terror. With a heavy sigh, I lean into the table, forcing all the weight through my arms and drop my chin onto my chest. For once, I just wish I could be an elf and not feel like I am bumbling along. Galor is right; I am a child. A silly little elfling that doesn't have command over her own body yet.

Thranduil comes to stand behind me, his hands sliding down my shoulders until they lace with my hands. He pulls me back against him, and I don't protest because I feel like I need the help to stand upright. Absently, he clasps and unclasps his hands around mine, playing with the lengths of my fingers, and resting his lips on my shoulder. If his intent was to calm me, it works, and slowly, I relax in his embrace;

"I know what you fear," he murmurs and nuzzles my neck, mildly irritating me with the obvious smile in his voice. "You think you have failed because you did not sense the little one."