Disclaimers: I don't own any of the characters or settings from Lord of the Rings or Xena the Warrior Princess

Author's Note:

This is a LegoRomance (slow-burn)

Act I

Foes

Chapter 19: The Old Forest Road

Woodland Realm, July 3018 T.A.

They slept for a few hours through the night, their weariness finally catching up with them. The exhaustion was palpable, and a few hours of sleep was something they all desperately needed. It was not easy; it was not even their usual sleeping habits. Thalion and Mírdan slept the longest, their bodies and minds needing the time to dispose of the enchantments and the darkness they had encountered.

Elros, though equally weary, woke up just before dawn. He sat next to the fire, the faint glow illuminating his features as he studied the map. His brow furrowed in concentration, he traced the paths with his finger, ensuring they would follow the safest route. The weight of their journey lay heavy on his shoulders, but he was determined to lead them true.

The fire's warmth was a small comfort against the chill of the forest. Elros glanced around at his companions, noting their weariness, and resolved to keep his watch. His eyes occasionally flicked to the surrounding trees, ever vigilant for any sign of danger. The forest's oppressive silence was unnerving, but Elros focused on the task at hand, his mind working to navigate their way out of the enchanted woods.

Legolas had drifted asleep as well, the first real sleep he'd had in many nights. But, as with every night, his nightmares were waiting for him, more vivid and dark than usual. In his dream, he found himself back in the twisted, dark forest where his mother was captured. The trees were gnarled and twisted, their branches like skeletal hands reaching for him.

He saw his mother, Queen Lainathiel, surrounded by orcs. Her face was pale, her eyes wide with fear and pain. Legolas tried to reach her, but his feet felt like they were stuck in thick mud, preventing him from moving. He shouted her name, his voice echoing through the dark forest, but she did not hear him.

The orcs attacked her, and Legolas watched helplessly as they overpowered her. She fought valiantly, but she was outnumbered. Just as she was captured, one of the orcs turned to Legolas, its eyes glowing with malice. It laughed, a horrible, guttural sound, and pointed at him.

"You failed her," the orc hissed.

Legolas tried to scream, but no sound came out. He watched as his mother looked at him, her eyes filled with sorrow and forgiveness. She mouthed something, but he couldn't hear her. The scene shifted, and suddenly he was holding his bow, aiming at her. She was no longer fighting the orcs; she was standing alone, looking at him with a dark expression.

"Do it," she whispered, her voice finally reaching him. "End my suffering."

Legolas released the arrow. It flew straight and true, piercing her heart. She fell to the ground, her body turning to dust and scattering in the wind. Legolas dropped to his knees, the weight of his guilt crushing him. He screamed into the void, the darkness closing in around him, suffocating him.

Before dawn, sweat poured down his face and back. It was a warm summer night, though the darkness of Mirkwood should have brought a chill. Yet, it was the searing pain of his nightmare and the weight of his guilt that drenched him in sweat, pulling him gasping back to reality. When he finally broke free from the nightmare's grip and opened his eyes, he sat up, wiping the sweat from his forehead, taking a moment to fully return to the present. Separated from the others, he now sat alone, the old forest road stretching out before him. He took his time to process the remnants of his nightmare, rising to his feet once more, as strong as ever.

Xena's night was not much different. Her mind was filled with memories of traveling with Gabrielle, of the times when, although dangerous, she was certain of her actions. She did not live through a nightmare, but rather through a deep sense of longing and loss. She missed her best friend and the world she was more familiar with. Mirkwood was nothing like she thought it would be. The days they crossed paths with orcs and spiders were manageable; she knew how to navigate that type of darkness.

But now, fighting through enchantments had left her drained. She remembered Gabrielle's laughter, their shared stories, and the trust they had in each other. The familiarity of her old world was a stark contrast to the alien and oppressive nature of Mirkwood. She felt adrift, a warrior out of her element, struggling to adapt to the new challenges she faced.

As dawn broke, the first light filtering through the thick canopy, the camp began to stir. Thalion and Mírdan awoke, their faces still marked by weariness but with a glimmer of determination in their eyes. They exchanged quiet words, their bond strengthened by the shared trials.

Legolas had returned to the camp already, the remnants of his nightmare still clinging to his consciousness. He took a deep breath, trying to shake off the lingering sense of guilt and sorrow. He looked around, noting that Elros was already up and sitting by the fire.

He rummaged through their remaining belongings, searching for lembas bread, his mind gradually refocusing on the task ahead. They could not linger any longer by the old forest road. It was time to eat, prepare, and continue their journey forward.

Xena stretched, her muscles sore and her mind heavy with thoughts of the past. She glanced at Legolas, their earlier argument still fresh in her mind. But for now, there was a silent truce, an understanding that they needed to move forward.

Elros looked up from the map as the others gathered. "We need to keep moving," he said, his voice steady. "The path ahead is still treacherous, but I believe we can make it."

Legolas nodded, his resolve hardening. "Let's break camp. We have a long journey ahead."

He shared the lembas bread with the others, offering the first piece to Elros, then to Thalion and Mírdan. When he reached Xena, a palpable pause hung between them, the echoes of their recent argument still lingering. Wordlessly, he extended a piece of lembas bread to her. Xena accepted it in silence, their eyes meeting for a fleeting, final glance.

The company ate some of the bread, and the rest was placed away for later. They packed up quickly, their movements efficient despite their weariness. The fire was extinguished, leaving only a faint wisp of smoke rising into the morning air. The forest around them was still and quiet, the shadows of the night retreating with the dawn.

As they set out, the memories and nightmares of the night lingered, but the promise of the old forest road ahead gave them a glimmer of hope. Together, they would face the darkness of the Old Forest Road, their bond growing stronger with each step they took.

As the group finally mounted their horses, a palpable sense of urgency settled over them. The old forest road, though dangerous with dark creatures lurking in the shadows, offered a path that would allow them to ride faster. Legolas, his expression serious, addressed the group.

"We will ride hard," he said, his voice carrying the weight of command. "Our goal is to reach the Old Ford. It is where the Old Forest Road crosses the River Anduin, about forty miles downriver from the Carrock. In older times, there was a stone bridge here, but it has long since disappeared. Now, it is no more than a simple ford."

He paused, letting his words sink in. "The Old Ford is a safe point for us to camp and regroup. There is water for us and the horses, grass for grazing, and fresh air to dispel the darkness. While the danger of encountering the forces of Sauron still exists, the terrain will be in our favor."

With a sense of determination, they set off, riding swiftly along the old forest road. The path, though overgrown in places, was still discernible, allowing them to maintain a brisk pace. The air was cool, and the forest around them was a blur of twisted trees and thick underbrush.

Legolas rode at the front, his keen eyes scanning the path ahead for any signs of danger. His mind was focused, the urgency of their journey driving him forward. Behind him, Xena followed closely, her senses alert and her hand never far from her sword. The elves, Thalion, Elros, and Mírdan, rode in a tight formation, their expressions grim but resolute.

The first day of their ride was uneventful, the oppressive silence of the forest only occasionally broken by the distant cries of unseen creatures. The old forest road wound through dense thickets and over gentle rises, the ground beneath their horses' hooves firm and steady.

As dusk approached, they found a small clearing just off the road, sheltered by a ring of ancient trees. Legolas signaled for them to stop, and they quickly dismounted, their movements efficient despite their weariness. They set up a small camp, the fire's flickering flames casting long shadows on their faces.

"Rest while you can," Legolas instructed, his voice low. "We will need to ride hard again tomorrow."

They broke camp before dawn, the first light of day barely touching the horizon. The air was crisp, the chill of the night still lingering. As they rode, the forest seemed to close in around them, the trees pressing in with a suffocating density. The road became rougher, the path more treacherous.

Midway through the second day, they encountered their first real danger. A group of orcs had set up an ambush along the road, their crude weapons glinting in the dim light. Legolas, ever alert, spotted them first.

"Orcs ahead!" he shouted, drawing his bow.

The group sprang into action. Arrows flew, swords clashed, and the sounds of battle filled the air. Xena fought with a fierce intensity, her sword slicing through the orcs with deadly precision. Thalion, Elros, and Mírdan moved with practiced coordination, their elven blades flashing in the gloom.

The battle was swift but brutal. The orcs, though numerous, were no match for the combined strength and skill of their opponents. Within minutes, the road was clear, the bodies of the fallen orcs scattered among the trees.

They spent several hours burying the orc bodies, collecting arrows, and preparing to continue their journey. Not a word was exchanged; their weariness was palpable, a grim testament to the horrors they had endured in the darkness. Legolas and Xena both knew they needed to leave these woods as soon as possible. They cleaned their weapons and washed their hands and faces, but the rest of them remained stained with mud and blood. Even the elves, who typically retained an air of grace and cleanliness, were beginning to look worn and dirty.

They pressed on, not pausing to catch their breath. The urgency of their mission drove them forward, the need to reach the Old Ford overriding their exhaustion. The forest seemed darker now, the shadows deeper, the sense of danger ever-present.

As the second day turned into the third, they continued to push themselves and their horses to the limit. The terrain grew more challenging, the path more difficult to follow. The old forest road wound its way through dense woods, across rocky outcrops, and along the edges of steep ravines.

The orcs were not the only danger they faced on their journey. On the third day, they found the path ahead blocked by fallen trees, a tangled mass that would not allow the horses to pass. Forced to alter their course, they took a southern route that none of them knew well. The elves were uneasy, the unfamiliarity of the path weighing heavily on their minds.

The path soon became narrower, winding through dense thickets and under low-hanging branches. The forest seemed to close in around them, the trees pressing in with a suffocating density. As night fell, a thick fog rolled in, obscuring their vision and making the path look even more unfamiliar and strange.

Legolas rode at the front, his senses on high alert. Every rustle of leaves, every shadow in the fog, put him on edge. He knew this part of the forest had once been a hideout for rogue groups and bandits who ambushed travelers. Though few bandits remained, the danger was real.

It was near midnight when they were ambushed. The fog was so thick it seemed to muffle all sound, making the night eerily silent. The air was damp and cold, each breath producing a faint cloud of vapor. The dense fog clung to their skin, a cold shroud that amplified their sense of isolation.

Suddenly, out of the mist, arrows flew toward them, their whistling sound a stark contrast to the quiet. Each arrow seemed to pierce the very fabric of the fog, a deadly harbinger from unseen foes.

"Ambush!" Legolas shouted, his sharp eyes catching the faintest movements in the gloom. In one fluid motion, he drew his bow and fired an arrow, his elven reflexes honed to perfection. The arrow struck true, embedding itself in the chest of a shadowy figure perched high in a tree. The bandit fell silently, his body swallowed by the mist before it hit the ground.

Xena, already on edge, felt her heart hammering in her chest. Her instincts flared, every muscle tensing as adrenaline surged through her veins. She drew her sword with a metallic hiss and scanned the fog, her eyes narrow and fierce. "Stay close!" she ordered, her voice cutting through the confusion like a blade.

The bandits emerged from the mist, their faces obscured by ragged hoods and dirty clothes. Their eyes glinted, and their crude weapons glinted ominously in the dim light. They charged with wild abandon, shouting and jeering, their voices distorted and eerie in the fog.

Legolas, Xena, and the elves quickly formed a defensive circle, their backs to each other. Legolas' heart pounded, but his mind remained calm and focused. He nocked another arrow, his senses attuned to the slightest sound or movement. Each breath he took was measured, each muscle ready to spring into action.

Xena's grip tightened on her chakram, the leather-wrapped hilt familiar and comforting in her hand. Her mind raced through battle tactics, assessing the number of attackers, the terrain, and the best course of action. She could feel the heat of her comrades close by, a reminder that she was not alone in this fight.

The elves, their expressions stoic, moved with practiced precision. Their eyes, sharp and vigilant, scanned the surrounding fog for any sign of movement. They trusted in their training, in each other, and in the leadership of Legolas and Xena.

A bandit lunged at Legolas with a rusted sword, his movements wild and uncoordinated. Legolas sidestepped effortlessly, releasing his arrow at point-blank range. The bandit crumpled, his weapon falling uselessly to the ground.

Xena threw her chakram in a wide arc, the blade catching a bandit across the chest. She felt the resistance of flesh and bone before the man fell away, his cries abruptly silenced. Her mind remained clear, her focus unbroken.

More bandits pressed forward, undeterred by the loss of their comrades. The air filled with the clang of steel, the grunts of exertion, and the cries of the wounded. Legolas moved with the grace of a dancer, each shot precise and deadly. Xena fought with the ferocity of a lioness, her every strike decisive and powerful.

As the battle raged on, the fog seemed to pulse with the rhythm of combat. The bandits, realizing they had underestimated their prey, began to falter. Fear replaced their earlier bravado, their movements becoming hesitant and disorganized.

Finally, with a last, desperate charge, the remaining bandits were repelled. Those who could still move retreated into the fog, their shouts of anger and fear fading into the distance. The silence returned, heavy and oppressive.

Legolas lowered his bow, his breathing steady but deep. He scanned the area for any lingering threats, his senses still on high alert. Xena wiped her blade on a fallen bandit's cloak, her eyes meeting Legolas' with a nod of understanding.

"Is everyone alright?" Xena asked, her voice softer now, the edge of command replaced by concern.

The elves murmured their affirmatives, checking each other for wounds and gathering their scattered equipment. The group remained alert, knowing that the forest held many more dangers yet unseen. They tightened their formation and continued their journey, each step forward a testament to their resilience and unity.

They rode through the unknown path, winding deeper into the dense forest. The ancient trees loomed overhead, their branches forming a twisted canopy that blocked out the moonlight. The path was barely visible, a narrow trail guiding them through the undergrowth until they could rejoin the old forest road. Soon, they came upon what seemed like a forsaken camp. It was eerily silent, the remnants of tents and extinguished campfires hinting at a once vibrant gathering now abandoned.

The fog wrapped around the camp, thick and oppressive, adding an eerie feeling to the desolate scene. The group moved cautiously, eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of movement. Suddenly, Legolas raised his hand, signaling them to pause. He had seen something, a shadow in the mist, and he narrowed his eyes, trying to discern its nature.

A figure emerged from the fog, larger and more imposing than the bandits they had faced earlier. It was the leader of the group, wearing a tattered cloak and wielding a massive axe. His presence exuded menace, and he pointed his weapon at Legolas, his voice a low growl. "You should have stayed on the main road, elf. Now, you'll pay the price."

Legolas dismounted smoothly, his eyes fixed on the bandit leader. "We will not be your prey," he said coldly, his voice steady. "We only wish to pass through."

The bandit leader laughed, a harsh, grating sound that echoed through the fog. "Brave words, but empty threats." He swung his axe in a wide arc, aiming for Legolas's head.

Legolas ducked under the blow with elven grace and fired an arrow at point-blank range. The arrow struck the bandit leader's shoulder, causing him to roar in pain. Enraged, the leader swung his axe again, but Legolas was already moving, his agility keeping him just out of reach.

As Legolas scanned the area, he saw only a few bandits left. The rest of his company stood ready behind him, prepared to strike if needed. However, Legolas sensed that another fight was unnecessary. It was not a fight they had to endure, and it was one they would undoubtedly win.

Legolas addressed the bandit leader, his tone firm yet diplomatic. "There is no need for further bloodshed. We are merely trying to find the old forest road and be on our way. Let us pass, and we will leave you in peace."

The bandit leader sneered, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. "And why should I believe you? What's to stop us from taking what we want?"

Legolas held his gaze, unwavering. "Because you have already seen our strength. Engaging us again will only lead to more of your men injured or dead. Let us pass, and no more harm will come to you or your people."

There was a tense silence as the bandit leader weighed his options. Finally, he lowered his axe slightly, though his expression remained hostile. "Fine," he spat. "Go. But if I see you again, there will be no mercy."

Legolas nodded, acknowledging the reluctant truce. "We will not trouble you further. Come," he called to his companions, mounting his horse once more.

The group moved through the forsaken camp, the bandits watching them with sullen eyes. As they passed, the fog seemed to close behind them, the eerie silence returning. They rode on, the tension slowly easing from their shoulders as they left the bandits and the camp behind.

((Upcoming Chapter Twenty))

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