Disclaimers: I don't own any of the characters or settings from Lord of the Rings or Xena the Warrior Princess
Author's Note:
In this chapter, all conversations were conducted in the Common Speech (Westron)
XLIII: Memorial for the Elven Queen
Halls of the Elvenking, Mirkwood, 2956 TA, September 18
As twilight descended upon the Woodland Realm, a hush spread through the forest, its dappled light fading into the deep hues of evening. The elves, ever graceful and efficient in their ways, moved through their tasks with quiet dignity, their soft voices and nimble steps weaving a solemn air throughout the realm.
In the grand hall, an area had been tenderly arranged for a ceremony of parting. Skilled artisans, with hands as deft as the wind through leaves, crafted a bier from interlacing branches and fragrant blossoms. It was a beautiful homage, befitting the revered Elvenqueen. Her form, now lovingly prepared and adorned by the hands of Thranduil himself, awaited to be placed upon this bed of nature's artistry, encircled by the enchanting splendor of elven handiwork.
Legolas, having sought refuge in the sanctuary of the gardens after a poignant exchange with his father, stood amidst the vibrant flora. His eyes, usually alight with the spirited joy of the Greenwood, now mirrored the deep sorrow that welled within him. The loss of his mother, once a distant ache, had become a tangible grief, enveloping his heart like a shadow. Yet within him stirred a profound sense of duty, a need to honor her memory that rose above the torrents of his sorrow.
As the time for the ceremony drew near, a gentle voice broke his reverie. An elven maiden, her presence as light as a falling leaf, reminded him of the approaching hour. Legolas, with the weight of his thoughts still upon him, acknowledged her with a nod and a whispered word of gratitude.
Though already dressed in princely attire, he felt compelled to return to his chambers. There, he would ensure that his appearance reflected not only his royal heritage but also the deep respect and love he held for his mother. In this moment of solemn reflection, every detail mattered, for it was not only a farewell but a tribute to a life that had shaped his own.
Legolas, having meticulously ensured that his attire and bearing were befitting of the prince he was, emerged from his quarters. As he walked through the corridor near Xena's chamber, he found her there, a figure of strength and contemplation.
"The farewell ceremony is soon to commence," Legolas spoke to her, his voice a harmonious blend of the formal poise expected of his station and the underlying current of his grief.
Xena, her features etched with solemnity, acknowledged his words with a nod. "I shall attend," she responded, her voice resonating with a deep respect. She was keenly aware of the gravity of this elven rite, understanding its importance not only as a homage to the late Elvenqueen but also as a testament to the unexpected bond she had formed with these woodland folk.
To her astonishment, however, Legolas lingered, offering his arm in a gesture of escort. Xena, momentarily taken aback by this unexpected display of formality, hesitated. Though unaccustomed to such protocols, she did not wish to disrupt the sanctity of the day's proceedings, especially on an occasion as momentous as the memorial for the Elvenqueen.
"Are we now adhering to formalities?" she found herself questioning, her tone laced with a hint of disbelief. In the Woodland Realm, she had encountered many surprises, but this concern for ceremony seemed out of character for her.
Legolas regarded her with a slightly arched eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Concerned with protocol now, are we, Xena?" he queried, his voice firm yet imbued with an underlying warmth. "Let me bear the burden of such worries. Your task is simply to follow." His words, though strict, carried an assurance, gently guiding her into the folds of elven custom.
As Legolas stood before Xena, he understood the gravity of the moment and the respect she was showing by not disputing the ceremonial customs. She gracefully took his arm, her gown whispering along the stone floors, and looked up at him. "Then it shall be upon your shoulders," she said softly, indicating her readiness to proceed.
Together, they moved through the corridors of the Woodland Realm, Legolas pacing himself to match Xena's stride. In this solemn walk, there was no need for words; the weight of the occasion hung heavily in the air. Xena, though unfamiliar with the Elven Queen, felt a strange sense of sorrow stirring within her, a testament to the profound impact of the ceremony they were about to witness.
In the great hall, King Thranduil stood in dignified solitude before the bier. The bones of his beloved wife laid out with the utmost care and reverence, evoked a deep well of memories and emotions. The king, often guarded and composed, allowed himself to fully experience the heartache and remembrance that engulfed him.
As the appointed hour drew near, elves from every corner of the realm converged in the hall. Their faces bore the solemnity of the occasion, their garments reflecting their deep respect for their departed queen. The air was filled with the gentle strains of elven music, lutes, and flutes playing melodies that were both mournful and beautiful, adding a layer of poignant reverence to the already solemn atmosphere.
In the solemn assembly within the great hall, King Thranduil stood at the forefront, a commanding yet mournful figure. A short distance behind him, Tauriel, Nienna, and her daughter Althea formed a part of the gathered crowd. All eyes were soon drawn to the entrance as Legolas, with measured steps and a visage reflecting both grief and determination, made his way forward, escorting Xena to join the ceremony.
As they approached the bier where the late queen lay, Legolas's gaze held a deep, unspoken promise to honor the memory of his mother. His presence, alongside Xena, created a stir among the attendees. Surprisingly, Thranduil's expression remained impassive, not betraying any disapproval of the unfolding scene.
Nienna watched with wide eyes, already sensing the whispers and rumors that this unexpected pairing would ignite. Her daughter appeared almost shocked at the sight of the prince alongside the mortal warrior. It was clear that Nienna would later seek a conversation with both Legolas and Xena to understand this unusual alliance.
The gathered elves initially mistook Xena for one of their own, her striking presence and proud bearing easily mistaken for that of an elleth. She stood with a composed grace beside Legolas and even in proximity to King Thranduil, her demeanor unchanging, exuding strength and confidence that did not waver.
However, upon closer inspection, the subtle differences became apparent. Her ears, lacking the pointed tips characteristic of the elven folk, and other nuances in her appearance, gradually revealed her human nature. This revelation added a layer of intrigue and curiosity among the elves, who now observed her with a newfound interest, wondering about the story behind this unique alliance.
The murmurs and whispers within the hall grew, but they were swiftly quelled as King Thranduil stepped forward to initiate the ceremony. His presence commanded attention, and as he began his speech, the hall fell into a deep, reverent hush. His words, woven in the enchanting elven language, were a poignant homage to his queen, painting a picture of their shared love, the void of her absence, and the unwavering hope that endured. The elves listened intently, each word resonating in the solemn stillness of the great hall.
Throughout the ceremony, Xena observed the elven rites with a growing sense of connection and respect. The elegance of the songs, the heartfelt tributes, and the tender placement of flowers on the bier contrasted starkly with the funerary customs of her own world. In these moments, she felt a bond with the elves, a mutual understanding of the pain of loss and the courage required to face it with honor and grace.
Legolas, standing by his father, embodied a silent fortitude. His eyes, though brimming with sorrow, also reflected a deep appreciation for the life his mother had led and the enduring legacy she had left. Xena, no longer linked arm-in-arm with him, still felt his presence as a comforting support. Legolas subtly kept her within reach, his arm occasionally brushing against her back – a silent gesture of solidarity and shared grief in this time of remembrance.
As the ceremony neared its conclusion, King Thranduil solemnly led the way to a specially prepared gravesite within the central glade of his halls. The bier, bearing the Elvenqueen's remains, was carried with reverence and grace by six elven warriors, their steps a harmonious dance of respect and sorrow.
The gravesite, nestled amidst the beauty of the glade, was an apt resting place for the noble Elvenqueen. The elves, encircling the site, lifted their voices in a final, poignant song of parting. The melody, both haunting and exquisite, seemed to weave through the halls, a loving farewell that reached beyond the confines of their woodland realm.
Thranduil, standing with a dignified poise at the grave's edge, gently placed a single white blossom upon the remains. This act symbolized not just a farewell, but an enduring declaration of love, a king's final homage to his queen. Legolas, following in his father's footsteps, also laid a flower, his gesture a heartfelt expression of respect and memory for his mother.
Xena, observing from a modest distance, felt deeply honored to witness such a ceremony. The elven rituals, so different from those of her own culture, struck a chord within her warrior spirit. She recognized the profound significance of paying tribute to the fallen, of commemorating their existence and the legacy they leave behind. While she did not personally contribute to the grave, both King Thranduil and Prince Legolas understood that her role had been crucial.
It was Xena who had returned the Elvenqueen to her home, a deed that spoke volumes more than any traditional offering could. Her presence at the ceremony, respectful and silent, was a testament to the unexpected but meaningful bond she had formed with the Woodland Realm.
As the echoes of the ceremony's solemnity began to fade, the elves, one by one, departed from the grave site. Their steps, light and measured, carried them towards the area designated for the commemorative feast. The grave of the Elvenqueen, now hallowed and set in the peaceful embrace of the Woodland Realm, stood as a lasting symbol of her heritage and the unbreakable spirit of the elven folk.
King Thranduil, Prince Legolas, and Xena remained by the grave for a few moments more, each immersed in their own reflections. Thranduil's gaze was steadfast upon the grave, his visage a tapestry of profound grief intertwined with unwavering determination. Legolas, bearing the weight of his mother's absence, found within himself a rekindled resolve to honor her memory in all his future actions.
Xena, as she prepared to follow the others, felt the comforting touch of Legolas' hand. With a subtle gesture of companionship, she placed her hand around his arm once more. This quiet moment, in the gentle wake of the ceremony, was not just a time of mourning, but also a testament to the enduring fortitude of the elves.
Together, they proceeded towards the area where all the elves were gathering, Legolas and Xena at the fore with Thranduil following. The mood, though still imbued with the solemnity of remembrance, was gradually transitioning into one of collective unity. They moved forward, awaiting Thranduil's signal to begin the feast – a fitting celebration to honor the memory and enduring impact of the Elvenqueen upon the Woodland Realm.
As the time came to transition from mourning to celebration, King Thranduil, with a graceful motion, raised his wooden cup, brimming with the finest Mirkwood wine, signaling the commencement of the festivities. For centuries, such an event had not graced his Halls. Elves from every corner of his realm, not just those residing in the Halls but also from distant villages, had convened for this momentous occasion. The banquet tables were laden with an array of foods and wines, showcasing the bounty and craftsmanship of the Woodland Elves.
The great hall, usually a place of regal counsel and solemn gatherings, was transformed into a haven of joyous celebration. Garlands of leaves and flowers, reminiscent of the forest, were draped elegantly around, their vibrant colors adding warmth to the stone and wood architecture. The tables were adorned with an assortment of delicacies – from honeyed fruits to freshly baked bread, and dishes seasoned with herbs from the deepest parts of the forest. The wines, a specialty of the Woodland Elves, varied from light, floral notes to deeper, richer blends, each capturing the essence of Mirkwood.
Music, an integral part of elven culture, began to fill the hall. Melodies from flutes and lutes intertwined with the soft beats of drums, creating a rhythm that invited dancing. The Woodland Elves, known for their love of festivity, embraced the music with enthusiasm. Some danced in fluid, graceful movements, while others simply swayed to the tunes, their laughter and chatter adding to the lively atmosphere.
The celebration saw a mingling of all – from the highborn elves of Thranduil's court to the warriors and guards, and the woodland folk who lived in harmony with the forest. This gathering was a rare sight, one where distinctions faded and all were united in the spirit of the feast. It was a night where stories were shared, songs were sung, and the legacy of the Elvenqueen was honored not just in solemnity, but in the joy and unity of her people.
Legolas and Tauriel, absorbed in their conversation, seemed almost detached from the revelry around them. Tauriel, sipping the season's robust wine, was adorned in a gown of deep green. The fabric, flowing and elegant, was reminiscent of the forest's hues, enhancing her natural grace that was often hidden when she donned her hunting attire.
"You have resolved to depart again," Tauriel remarked, her tone a mix of inquiry and understanding, as she savored the wine's strength. "I trust this journey will take you to Rivendell, and not see you linger in Mirkwood as before."
A wry smile played on Legolas' lips. "Indeed, my stay in Mirkwood was prolonged due to my mother's situation. Now, with no such ties, it is time I sought solace from the shadows that have crept upon us," he confessed, his gaze briefly drifting to the mirthful assembly.
Tauriel's eyes followed his, resting on Xena, who stood at the edge of the festivities, somewhat apart from the elven throng. "And what of the human?" she probed, her gaze returning to Legolas.
Legolas' eyes lingered on Xena for a moment longer before returning to Tauriel. "Xena, I reckon, will pursue her own path. She has spoken of visiting Dale and Erebor," he said, recalling his own once-planned journey to those lands before Xena became entwined in a quest that had now reached its conclusion. Her presence in Mirkwood had been an unforeseen twist in their tales, one that had changed the course of many events.
Tauriel's voice carried a note of concern. "Will she manage alone on her travels?" she inquired, mindful of the perils that still haunted the paths of Mirkwood, with its orcs and spiders lurking in the shadows.
Legolas, leaning in closer, spoke softly to her. "I have no doubt in her capability, but I ask you to watch over her journey," he whispered, the earnestness in his tone unmistakable.
Understanding dawned in Tauriel's eyes as she nodded. "The King himself has instructed me to ensure her safe departure from Mirkwood. Your concerns are noted, but rest assured," she assured him.
Legolas hesitated for a moment, reflecting on his own feelings. It wasn't just worry that stirred within him; his inclination to protect her had grown since their paths had intertwined. "Truly?" he responded, casting a glance towards Thranduil, who was deeply engaged in conversation with his courtiers. The Elvenking's recent actions were surprisingly unpredictable to Legolas.
Turning their conversation to a more secluded corner, Legolas continued, "Tauriel, I am speaking of after she leaves our borders. Your patrols often take you towards Dale and Erebor. Should you encounter her, please ensure she is well."
Tauriel's expression was tinged with a hint of surprise. It was unusual for Legolas to express such a personal concern for an individual's welfare. Yet, recognizing the depth of his request, she solemnly agreed to keep a watchful eye on Xena's journey, honoring the bond that had evidently formed between the prince and the warrior.
Althea, a noble Sinda elf and part of Thranduil's court, watched Legolas and Tauriel with a complex mix of emotions. Her gaze, laced with envy and a touch of scorn, followed the Prince as he engaged in earnest conversation with Tauriel, a Silvan elf whom she considered unworthy of his royal attention. To Althea, it was perplexing and somewhat irksome that Legolas maintained such a friendly rapport with Tauriel, a relationship that seemed unchanged by time or circumstance.
As the evening wore on, Althea's observations became more acute. Her confusion deepened upon noticing Xena, the human warrior, also garnering the Prince's interest. Althea couldn't fathom what she might have done wrong to not draw Legolas' attention. She was well-regarded, educated, and of noble lineage, her mother being close to King Thranduil himself. Yet, despite her efforts in engaging Legolas in discussions about politics and international affairs, subjects befitting a prince, she found him distinctly uninterested.
Furthermore, her attempts to dance with him at previous celebrations had always been adroitly evaded. Legolas, she noted, seldom danced. It was an observation that stood out, especially tonight. Throughout the festivity, Legolas had spent considerable time conversing with Tauriel, engaged in brief exchanges with familiar elves, and notably, when a rare melody played—a tune reminiscent of those the Elven Queen favored—Legolas made his way towards Xena.
To Althea, this was baffling and frustrating. The Prince's apparent indifference to her status and attempts at connection, contrasted with his ease around Tauriel and now his approach towards Xena, a human, seemed to upend the social norms she had always known. In her eyes, Legolas' actions were an enigma, challenging her understanding of the courtly dynamics within the Woodland Realm.
As Xena conversed with Althea, the undercurrent of tension between them was palpable. Althea, unable to mask her jealousy, probed Xena with pointed questions, her tone laced with subtle barbs. The conversation, rather than being amicable, took on an increasingly confrontational tone.
Althea, driven by her envy, couldn't help but remark, "So, you've garnered the attention of our Prince Legolas. A rare feat for a mortal." Her words, though veiled as a compliment, carried a clear note of disdain.
Xena, not one to shy away from a challenge, replied with a calm yet firm tone, "It seems respect and camaraderie know no bounds of race or realm. Perhaps that's a lesson worth learning."
The exchange escalated, with Althea pressing further, her questions becoming more personal and provocative. Xena's patience began to fray under the barrage of insinuations.
Finally, Xena had enough. Her hand clenched into a fist, ready to put an end to the verbal jousting in a more direct manner. She had never been one to strike an unarmed woman, but Althea's provocations were pushing her to her limits. However, before her arm could swing, she felt a firm grip encircling her wrist, pulling her away from the impending conflict.
Xena turned to see who had intervened, her fiery temperament momentarily checked by the unexpected interruption. The situation, teetering on the edge of a physical altercation, had been defused just in time, sparing both Xena and Althea from what could have been an unsavory incident in the midst of the festivity.
Xena, taken aback, found herself unexpectedly face-to-face with Legolas. His firm grip on her arm gently but decisively led her towards the main hall. As she realized they were standing in the midst of the dance floor, a look of surprise crossed her face. "What are you doing?" she asked, her eyes widening at the unexpected turn of events.
"We are dancing," Legolas declared, a hint of mirth in his voice. He deftly positioned his left arm around her waist and took her hand with his right, raising it in preparation to dance. The gesture brought a skeptical look from Xena.
Attempting to resist, Xena said firmly, "Have you lost your senses, elf? I am not one for dancing, especially not familiar with elven dances." Despite her protest, Legolas maintained a gentle yet unyielding hold, ensuring she remained with him on the dance floor, though Xena made sure not to struggle too visibly, so as not to draw attention.
"Hush, mortal, simply follow my graceful footsteps." Legolas urged, his face breaking into a rare, playful expression that Xena had not seen before. "It's a simple dance," he assured her confidently.
Xena let out a resigned sigh, sensing a softness in herself she hadn't expected. She found the sight of Legolas's smile and light-hearted demeanor preferable to his usual stoic facade. "Alright, but be prepared for potential embarrassment," she replied with a half-smirk, giving in to the moment and the unexpected joy it brought.
Legolas responded with a lighthearted jest, "Fear not, for I am more than capable of managing this task." before commencing their dance across the hall. Xena, in her flowing gown that elegantly swirled with each movement, was a striking contrast to Legolas' more refined and practiced steps. They made an unusual pair: the warrior and the elf prince, moving in unison. Around them, the elves watched with a mix of curiosity and intrigue, whispers spreading like ripples across a pond.
As they glided across the floor, Legolas leaned in closer, his voice a whisper near Xena's ear. "This dance held a special place in my mother's heart, a cherished memory of her.," he confided, a hint of nostalgia in his tone. The revelation caught Xena's attention, drawing her deeper into the moment. "To share it on the day of her memorial, and with you, seems fitting," he added.
Xena, understanding the significance of his words, nodded in acknowledgement. Her initial reluctance faded, replaced by a cooperative spirit. She found herself more in tune with the dance, moving gracefully alongside Legolas.
Eventually, as the melody shifted to a different tune, their dance came to a natural close. With a final step, they parted, each heading in opposite directions. The dance, a moment of shared respect and connection, lingered in the air as they went their separate ways, leaving a lasting impression on both Xena and the onlooking elves.
Althea watched, her feelings a turbulent mix of disbelief and indignation, as Prince Legolas concluded his dance with the human warrior, Xena. For Althea, of noble elven lineage, the sight was almost too jarring to comprehend. With her silver hair cascading like moonlight and her eyes reflecting the depth of ancient forests, she embodied the regal bearing of her people. Her attire, crafted from the finest silks and adorned with meticulous embroidery, was a testament to her high status and refined upbringing.
Determined to address what she perceived as a breach of protocol, Althea moved towards Xena with a purposeful grace. In her mind, the human might be unaware of the customs and expectations within the Halls of the Elvenking, and it was upon her to rectify this oversight.
The moment was fraught with tension, a clash of cultures and expectations. Althea, standing with the poise of an elf accustomed to certain traditions and decorum, contrasted sharply with Xena, whose life and experiences had often defied convention. This encounter, seemingly about etiquette, was deeper than it appeared - a reflection of the complexities of navigating the customs of the Woodland Realm.
Althea approached Xena with a demeanor of calculated composure, masking her intent to belittle the human under a veneer of calm civility. "It seems, human, that you might not fully grasp the nuances of our customs," she began, her voice laced with a subtle condescendence. "Engaging in dance with our Prince, particularly in such a solemn assembly, is a matter of considerable significance in our lands."
Xena, ever unyielding and sharp-witted, met Althea's gaze squarely. "I don't dance to the tune of customs I haven't chosen," she retorted, her tone even but firm. "I was invited to dance, and I accepted. No more, no less."
Althea, sensing an opportunity, pressed further. "But surely, you must understand the implications of such actions. You are, after all, an outsider here. Your presence alone is a disruption to the balance of our court."
Xena's composure faltered slightly, the truth in Althea's words striking a chord. She was indeed an outsider, and her actions, however unintended, could have unforeseen consequences.
Just as the tension between them neared its peak, Legolas appeared, sensing the brewing conflict. Without a word, he took Xena by the wrist and led her away from the festivity, his intervention preventing what could have escalated into a heated confrontation.
Leading Xena to his chambers, Legolas sought to provide her with a haven of calmness. He guided her to his balcony, a place of serene beauty and personal significance, where he and his mother had often found peace and solace in conversation. The balcony overlooked the enchanting vistas of Mirkwood, bathed in the soft glow of the evening.
There, Legolas had prepared a space with comfortable pillows for them to sit, and a decanter of Mirkwood's finest red wine awaited them. The setting was intimate and peaceful, a stark contrast to the tension of the festivity. It was a gesture of friendship and understanding, offering Xena a glimpse into the more private aspects of his life and the chance to converse away from the prying eyes and ears of the court.
As Legolas and Xena settled into the peace of the balcony, a gentle conversation began to unfold between them. Legolas, gazing out over the vastness of Mirkwood, shared his plans to journey to Rivendell after some time. The ambiance was tinged with a sense of farewell, an unspoken acknowledgment that their paths might not cross again.
"You know, mortal, as an elf, I've always been cautious about forming bonds with mortals. The inevitable parting, the grief... it's a heavy burden to bear," Legolas confessed softly, his voice carrying a note of melancholy.
Xena, understanding the depth of his sentiment, replied, "Death is a part of life for us, Legolas. But it's the moments we share, the connections we make that truly define our lives, however brief they may be."
Their conversation gradually eased into a more comfortable rhythm, the initial heaviness giving way to a more congenial exchange. As the evening progressed, they found themselves leaning back against the plush pillows, absorbed in the beauty of the cavernous halls of the Woodland Realm. Xena, feeling a pleasant dizziness from the potent Mirkwood wine, rested against Legolas' chest, her head gently leaning on his shoulder.
In that quiet moment, with Xena so close, Legolas experienced a sense of peace, a rare feeling in his often tumultuous existence. The wine, the soft murmur of the Halls, and the warmth of Xena's presence combined to create a serene atmosphere. Though Legolas was aware that their time together was fleeting, and they might never meet again, this shared moment was a bittersweet comfort.
As they sat there, the vast halls of the Woodland Realm stretched out before them, a testament to the enduring legacy of the elves. For Legolas, the night was a poignant reminder of the transient nature of life and the connections formed along the way, even as he embraced the tranquility of the present.
As the first light of dawn began to touch the horizon, Legolas stirred from his contemplative stillness. Gently, with a quiet grace befitting an elf, he lifted Xena, who had fallen asleep against him. This act, simple yet laden with unspoken emotions, felt like a final gesture of farewell. Throughout their journey in the wild, he had carried her on several occasions, but this time, it symbolized the end of their shared path.
With careful steps, Legolas carried her to her own room in the Woodland Realm. There, he softly laid her down under the covers, taking a moment to gaze upon her resting form. In the quiet of the room, Legolas allowed himself a brief pause, a silent goodbye that needed no words.
He tenderly pulled the covers around her, ensuring she was comfortable and warm. As he looked at her one last time, a myriad of emotions played across his face - a blend of fondness, respect, and a hint of sorrow for the inevitable parting that their different paths and lifespans entailed.
Then, with a final, lingering glance, Legolas silently exited the room. His heart was heavy with the knowledge that their lives, so briefly intertwined, were now diverging. As he left, his thoughts were filled with wishes for her happiness, for a fulfilling life in the years that remained to her as a human. This quiet departure marked the end of a chapter, a poignant conclusion to a bond forged in the depths of the Woodland Realm.
((Upcoming Chapter Forty-Four)
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