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)

ActVI

The Shadows

Chapter 56: The Bet

Imladris, September 18th 3018 T.A

The night had grown late, and the stillness of Rivendell seemed to press in on Xena as she lingered in the garden's opening, her thoughts tangled in the complexity of the mission she had accepted months ago. Back then, she had been driven by the promise of gold and the thrill of the hunt—chasing down an "evil elf" who had played a role in his mother's fall to darkness, ultimately leading to her death.

But four months had passed since then, and what she knew now complicated the simple tale she had been given. She had met that elf—Legolas—and things were far from how they seemed. Yes, there was truth to the story: Alakar had twisted the queen into something monstrous, and it was Legolas who had put an end to her suffering. Yet, Xena now understood that Alakar was not some long-dead, faceless orc, as she had once believed. He was alive, and his role in this tragedy was far more dangerous than she had anticipated.

She began walking back to her chamber, the soft taps of her slippers on the marble floor echoing through the empty halls. For a brief moment, her thoughts shifted to something trivial—her boots. They were worn and in need of repair, or perhaps it was time for new ones. The randomness of the thought almost made her laugh. But then, as she reached her door, a strange sound caught her attention.

At first, it was faint, like heavy breathing—labored, strained. She paused, listening, but it quickly faded. Her hand hovered over the door's handle, but just as she was about to enter her room, the sound came again, clearer this time. It was the sound of someone in distress, gasping for breath.

The moonlight spilled through the windows, casting long shadows, but the halls were deserted. Her chamber was quiet, but there was only one person near enough for the sound to be coming from—Legolas.

Her heart quickened, and without a second thought, she gathered the hem of her gown and walked swiftly toward his door. The closer she got, the more distinct the breathing became. It was heavy and uneven, each gasp a clear sign of suffering. Her hand rested on the door for a moment, hesitant. She knew that Legolas often had nightmares, but something about tonight felt different. Darker. More intense.

Without waiting any longer, she pushed the door open and slipped inside, closing it softly behind her.

The room was thick with the scent of summer rain, mingled with the earthy freshness of mint and citrus—Legolas' scent, though stronger than usual, likely from his distress. It was intoxicating in its way, but tonight, it only heightened her concern. The room was dim, lit only by the pale light of the moon filtering through the high windows. Legolas lay on his bed, his body restless, drenched in sweat, his features twisted in agony. He was lost in his nightmares, so deeply that he didn't even notice her presence.

Xena stood there for a moment, watching him. The prideful, often arrogant elf she had come to know was gone, replaced by a pale, tormented figure. His usual air of control and composure had crumbled in the grip of whatever horror plagued him.

She moved closer, her steps silent, and leaned over him. His silver hair was tangled, clinging to his damp forehead. Gently, she reached out, brushing the strands away from his face. His expression was tight, his jaw clenched as if he were fighting some unseen force. His breathing came in ragged gasps, and his hands clutched the sheets as though he were trying to anchor himself against the storm inside his mind.

Legolas didn't stir. He was too far gone, trapped in the nightmare's grip. Xena thought briefly about shaking him, about pulling him out of it, but something held her back. She had seen him like this before, but never like this. Tonight, the pain etched into his features was deeper, rawer, as though something had broken open inside him.

Her fingers hovered near his shoulder, but she hesitated. What would happen if she woke him? Tomorrow, or the next night, the nightmares would return, and he would face them all over again. She could pull him from it now, but it wouldn't save him. Not really. This was his burden, his torment, and tonight it seemed that Alakar's shadow loomed larger than ever.

Xena clenched her jaw in frustration. She hated seeing him like this. Despite all his arrogance and pride, she couldn't stand to watch him suffer. And yet, she understood. Perhaps better than anyone, she understood what it meant to live with guilt, to be haunted by the past, to feel that you deserved every ounce of the torment you faced.

Slowly, she let her hand fall back to her side. She wouldn't wake him. Not tonight. If this was his way of atoning for his mother's death, for the part he believed he played in her suffering, then who was she to take that from him?

Stepping back, she cast one more glance at him. His chest still rose and fell in uneven breaths, his body tense with the weight of his nightmare. But this was his battle, and for now, she would let him fight it.

Alone.

As she turned and quietly left the room, closing the door behind her, Xena made a silent promise. Tonight, he could have his darkness, his friend. But tomorrow, when he awoke, she would be there. She didn't know how, but she would find a way to pull him out of this, even if it was just a little.

Xena spent the rest of the night in restless thought, searching for a way to pull Legolas out of his torment. It wasn't about saving him completely—she knew better than that. But perhaps, just perhaps, she could distract him from it, even if for a little while. A fight seemed the most obvious approach. She could provoke him, maybe force him into some physical exertion that would break through the wall of anguish he built around himself. She smiled at the idea of beating him up, though she knew it wouldn't work quite as well as she hoped. Still, it was something.

Eventually, sleep claimed her, though her dreams were far from peaceful. By the time the morning light slipped through the cracks of her chamber, Xena was already awake, sifting through the gowns she had been given, alongside the ones she had acquired during her travels. Most were extravagant, layered in fine fabrics, but she sought something simpler. Her hands finally rested on a plain blue gown. It was modest, with short sleeves and a modest V-neck, and made from a single layer of soft material that flowed easily. Simple, but it would do.

She pulled on her boots, which were in dire need of repair, and fastened a sword to her waist—one that wasn't hers but had served her well enough since her own had broken. Taking a deep breath, she decided to braid her hair. She parted it in two thin braids at the front, pulling them back and securing them behind her head, revealing her face more clearly. The rest of her dark hair fell loosely over her shoulders, framing her sharp, determined features. With a quick glance at herself in the mirror, she smirked. 'This will do.'

Leaving her chamber, Xena walked, her boots clicking softly on the stone. She approached Legolas' door just as he was stepping out, clearly not expecting to see her standing there, arms crossed and waiting.

He blinked in surprise, his hand still on the door handle. His usual attire was immaculate—dark leggings, polished leather boots, and a crisp white tunic. His long, silver-blonde hair was pulled back into intricate braids, keeping his face clear, though his pale skin showed signs of fatigue. Dark circles lingered under his eyes, and his expression, while composed, carried the weight of a sleepless night.

"Xena?" he questioned, his voice calm but tinged with confusion. "What are you doing here?"

Xena leaned casually against the doorframe, her eyes scanning him as if assessing whether he could handle what she had in store. "Grab your sword, elf," she said with a smirk, "you owe me a fight. And besides, we need to check if Maegnor's finished with my armor."

Legolas raised an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly as if trying to make sense of her sudden demand. "Your armor? It's far too early for it to be ready," he replied, his voice betraying his confusion. "And as for the fight—"

"Oh, don't act like you're busy," Xena interrupted, waving a hand dismissively. "I'm sure you can find a moment in your oh-so-important day to spar with me. Or are you afraid I'll actually beat you?"

Legolas sighed, his weariness showing more clearly as he rubbed a hand over his face. "You could spar with others," he suggested. "There are plenty of elves here who would be more than happy to train with you."

Xena scoffed, crossing her arms tightly. "Elros would never fight me—he's too worried about following protocols. And Thalion and Mírdan? Please. They'll train with me, sure, but they'll never give me a real fight. Not like you."

Legolas' eyes narrowed slightly at her last words. "And why is that?" he asked, his tone half-curious, half-wary.

"Because we irritate each other," Xena replied bluntly, her lips curving into a mischievous grin. "You're arrogant, and I don't take orders well. It's a perfect match for a good fight."

The elf folded his arms across his chest, clearly trying to decide whether to engage in her strange challenge. "Why me, then?" he asked. "Surely, the twins could offer a—"

"No," Xena cut him off, stepping closer, her tone more insistent now. "You. You're going to fight me, Legolas. So grab your sword and let's get on with it."

Legolas' expression remained impassive, but his eyes flickered with mild annoyance. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were trying to distract me from something."

She raised an eyebrow, the grin never leaving her face. "Maybe I am. Maybe I'm not. Either way, you're going to fight me."

Legolas hesitated, studying her for a moment longer, but finally, he sighed in resignation. "Fine," he said at last. "Give me a moment to fetch my swords."

He turned back into his chamber, and Xena couldn't help but feel a small sense of satisfaction. She had pushed just enough to get him to agree. Now she just had to make sure it was worth it.

When Legolas returned, swords in hand, Xena was already waiting by the door, leaning against the wall. "See? That wasn't so hard," she teased.

He shot her a sharp glance but said nothing, brushing past her as they made their way down the hall toward the training grounds.

"Are you always this insistent?" he asked as they walked, his voice calm but edged with irritation.

"Only when I need to be," Xena replied with a grin. "Besides, I figured you could use a distraction. You're looking a bit pale, elf. Didn't sleep well?"

Legolas' steps faltered for the briefest of moments, but he quickly composed himself. "I manage just fine," he said, his tone cold and clipped.

Xena could see through the façade, but she let it slide. There was no point in pressing too hard—yet. Instead, she kept the conversation light as they approached the dining hall for a quick breakfast before heading to the training grounds.

Once they had grabbed something to eat, Xena kept up her playful banter, pushing him subtly toward the sparring session she had planned. She didn't let him brood in silence for too long, always finding a way to pull him back into the moment, keeping him engaged.

Finally, as they reached the training grounds, Legolas stopped and turned to her, his gaze sharp. "You're relentless," he remarked, but there was a hint of grudging respect in his voice.

Xena shrugged, drawing her own sword. "That's one word for it," she said with a smirk, falling into a ready stance. "Now stop stalling, elf. Let's see what you've got."

With a final sigh of acceptance, Legolas drew his swords, the twin blades catching the morning light. He took his position across from her, his posture poised and graceful despite the weariness in his eyes. "You asked for this," he said, his voice low and warning.

Xena grinned, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. "I know. And I'm going to enjoy every minute of it."

The moment their blades clashed, the strikes were light, almost perfunctory. Xena's sword would come down toward Legolas, only for him to block it with a half-hearted parry. Legolas struck back, but his movements lacked the sharpness she had come to expect from him. He was, in her mind, fighting less like a warrior and more like a dead orc—slow, unmotivated, and utterly uninspired.

Xena smirked to herself, realizing this wasn't going to be the satisfying battle she had hoped for. The elf was still stuck in his own mind, weighed down by whatever nightmares plagued him the night before. 'If I don't provoke him, I might as well be sparring with air.' she thought.

As they exchanged a few more weak blows, Xena grinned. "You know," she began casually, "this isn't even a proper spar. Tell you what—let's make it interesting."

Legolas raised an eyebrow, but his movements didn't change. "Interesting?" he echoed, his voice flat. "What do you have in mind?"

"A bet," Xena said, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "The winner gets something from the loser."

Legolas parried another lazy blow and sighed. "I'm not interested in games, Xena."

"Oh, come on," she teased, delivering a quick jab at his side, which he blocked with ease. "Don't be such a bore. Surely you have something worth betting on. Or are you afraid you'll lose?"

Legolas's expression remained stoic as he glanced at her sidelong. "And what would you have me wager, then?"

Xena's smirk widened as she saw a hint of pride flicker in his eyes. "Your long knives," she said, her voice casual but firm. "If I win, I get those beautiful elven blades of yours."

For the first time in the spar, Legolas seemed to pause, his brows furrowing in mild surprise. "My long knives?" he repeated, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. "You think you can win those?"

Xena shrugged, twirling her sword in one hand as she stepped back to give him a little room. "Why not? If you're so sure I can't, then what's the harm in a friendly bet?"

Legolas's eyes narrowed slightly as his pride stirred. "And what do I get if I win?"

Xena grinned, knowing she had him hooked now. "My sword," she offered, holding it up. It gleamed in the sunlight, but it wasn't particularly special compared to Legolas's long knives.

Legolas glanced at the sword and frowned, his lips pressing into a thin line. "That's hardly a fair trade," he said, his voice laced with mild disapproval. "You're asking me to wager my favorite weapons, and in return, you offer me… that?" He gestured toward her sword with a tilt of his chin.

Xena's grin faltered slightly. She hadn't expected him to call her out so easily, but she wasn't one to back down. "Fine," she said, crossing her arms. "What do you want, then?"

Legolas thought for a moment, his blue eyes glinting with a sly amusement. He had no intention of letting Xena win his prized blades, but now that they were making this interesting, he figured he might as well test her resolve. "You owe me a favor," he said at last, his voice smooth and calm. "Anything I ask, at any time. No questions."

Xena's eyes widened slightly at his audacity. A favor from her? That was a much higher price than she had anticipated. But she couldn't back down now. The challenge had been set, and she was not one to retreat from a fight, no matter the stakes. She gave him a sharp, narrowed look. "Anything?" she asked, her voice carrying a note of warning.

Legolas merely nodded, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "Anything."

Xena glared at him, her grip on her sword tightening as she weighed her options. 'It's a dangerous game,' she thought, but her pride was just as fierce as his, if not more so. She wasn't about to let him walk away with an easy victory. After a long, tense moment, she finally nodded. "Fine. I'll take that bet."

For a split second, Legolas seemed taken aback. He hadn't expected her to agree so easily, and in that brief moment of hesitation, he almost let his guard down. Xena took advantage of that distraction, lunging forward with a sudden, powerful strike.

Legolas barely managed to block in time, the force of her blow jolting him back into focus. His surprise melted away, replaced by a sharp intensity as he shifted into a proper fighting stance. This time, when their blades met, it wasn't half-hearted or playful. Xena had ignited the fire in him, and now, the real fight began.

The clanging of metal rang through the training grounds as they traded blows, each strike faster and harder than the last. Xena fought with a ferocity that matched her warrior spirit, her movements fluid and aggressive. She delivered a series of swift strikes—an overhead slash, a feint to his left, a quick jab to his right. Legolas parried each with graceful precision, his long knives flashing in the sunlight as he countered her attacks.

But Xena was relentless. She spun low, her boot kicking up dirt as she swung at his legs. Legolas leaped gracefully over the strike, landing in a crouch before launching himself at her, his blades slicing through the air. Xena barely managed to block, their swords meeting with a sharp *clang* as sparks flew from the impact.

"Is this all you've got, elf?" Xena taunted, her eyes gleaming with adrenaline.

Legolas didn't answer, but the intensity in his gaze spoke volumes. He was done playing games. With a fluid motion, he shifted his weight and swung one of his blades in a wide arc, forcing Xena to backpedal to avoid the strike. As she moved, he followed up with a swift thrust, aiming for her midsection.

Xena twisted her body just in time, the tip of his blade grazing her side. She let out a growl, flipping backward to gain some distance. "Not bad," she muttered, wiping the sweat from her brow. Her heart was pounding in her chest, but she wasn't about to let him see her falter.

With a fierce war cry, she charged at him again, her sword slicing through the air as she aimed for his chest. Legolas sidestepped the attack, but Xena was ready. She swung around, delivering a sharp kick to his ribs that sent him stumbling back.

But Legolas recovered quickly, using the momentum to roll back onto his feet. He lunged forward, his knives flashing as he closed the distance between them. Their swords clashed again, the force of their strikes sending shockwaves up their arms.

They fought like this for what felt like hours—both of them pushing their limits, neither willing to back down. Xena's war cries echoed through the training grounds as she unleashed her full strength, her strikes becoming more unpredictable and wild. Legolas, on the other hand, remained calm and collected, his movements precise and controlled, but his pale face was streaked with sweat, and his breaths were coming quicker now.

Both were injured—Xena had a cut along her arm, and Legolas sported a nasty gash on his cheek—but neither of them cared. They were too consumed by the fight, too wrapped up in the sheer thrill of testing each other's limits.

In a final, desperate move, Xena swung her sword in a powerful overhead strike, aiming to knock Legolas off balance. But the elf was ready. With a swift, graceful motion, he sidestepped the attack and, in one fluid movement, brought the hilt of his knife down against the back of her knee, sending her stumbling forward.

Before Xena could recover, Legolas was on her, his blade pressed lightly against her throat as he pinned her down with his weight. His chest heaved with exertion, his face a mix of exhaustion and satisfaction.

Xena blinked up at him, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She had lost.

Legolas smirked, lowering his blade and stepping back. "Looks like you owe me a favor, warrior."

Xena let out a low growl, wiping the sweat from her brow as she glared up at him. "Don't get used to it, elf. Next time, I'll win."

Legolas chuckled softly, sheathing his blades as he offered her a hand. "I'll be waiting for that day."

Xena took his hand, her pride bruised but her spirit unbroken. As she stood up, she couldn't help but smile despite the loss. Legolas had won this round, but she knew there would be many more battles to come.

The weariness clung to Legolas, manifesting in the paleness of his face and the slight tension in his muscles. The echo of last night's nightmares still haunted him, but today, at this moment, he was grounded in something tangible: the sharpness of Xena's eyes, the sting of his battle wounds, and the heavy breathing that followed their duel. For the time being, she had his full attention, and Xena was determined not to let him drift back into that shadow of pain that darkened his normally unreadable expression.

Xena took his offered hand, pulling herself to her feet, her blue gown torn along the sides from her wild movements during the fight. She dusted off the dirt clinging to the fabric, muttering under her breath. "There goes my new dress," she grumbled. She noticed Legolas doing the same, brushing the dirt from his white tunic, his expression as impassive as ever, save for the slight twitch at the corner of his lips. She could tell he was enjoying this.

"Are you always this destructive?" he asked, his voice smooth, betraying just a hint of sarcasm.

"Only when it's worth it," Xena shot back, smirking at him. She gave him a sidelong glance. "At least now I know you can fight when you're actually awake."

Legolas raised an eyebrow, his pale blue eyes catching hers, though he said nothing. The tension between them was palpable, but not unpleasant. It was the sort of tension that sparked between two warriors who respected each other's skill, even if their personalities often clashed. Xena saw the shift in his mood, though. The fight had pulled him out of his dark thoughts, and for now, that was enough.

She wasn't done with him yet, though. Not by a long shot.

"So," Xena began, fixing her hair and pretending to be casual, "I suppose you're going to stand there all day, or are you going to join me in visiting Maegnor?"

Legolas, who had just finished brushing the last bit of dirt from his tunic, looked up at her with mild suspicion. "Maegnor?"

"Yep," Xena said, acting as though it was the most natural next step. "I need to check if my armor's ready. You've already kept me waiting long enough."

"I doubt your armor will be ready," Legolas remarked coolly. "Maegnor works at his own pace. You could easily go by yourself."

Xena gave him a wicked smile, folding her arms over her chest. "Afraid to tag along? Or are you worried I'll provoke him into working faster?"

Legolas sighed, rolling his eyes as he glanced away. "You think your constant provocation is a virtue."

"It gets the job done," Xena shrugged, turning on her heel and beginning to walk down the path without looking back. "Coming?"

Legolas lingered for a moment, still trying to decipher her sudden insistence on his company. He knew her well enough by now to sense there was something more at play. But, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of seeing his hesitation, he followed with graceful, measured steps.

They walked through the winding streets of Rivendell, passing elegant elven homes built into the hills and surrounded by waterfalls that sparkled in the daylight. The markets were lively, filled with the sounds of elven merchants haggling in soft voices and the subtle clink of silver and gold coins exchanging hands. As they descended toward the lower parts of Rivendell, Xena walked with a spring in her step, teasing Legolas with random comments about everything from his hair to his overly pristine attire.

"You know," she remarked, glancing at him sideways, "you really don't need to look that neat all the time. We just fought, and you still look like you stepped out of a painting."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Legolas replied dryly, though his lips twitched in amusement. "Unlike you, I prefer to leave chaos on the battlefield, not on my person."

Xena snorted. "You and your perfectionism. It's exhausting."

"You say that as if you didn't spend half the morning fussing over your boots."

Xena shot him a playful glare. "That's different. My boots are practical."

They continued bantering as they passed through the market, the air filled with the scent of freshly baked bread and herbs. Xena briefly glanced at a few stalls selling boots, but nothing seemed to catch her attention. Everything was too refined, too elegant for her taste. She needed something sturdy, built for battle, not for aesthetics.

Eventually, they reached Maegnor's forge, the sound of clanging metal ringing through the air as they approached. The old elven smith greeted them with a raised eyebrow and a grunt of acknowledgment. His hands were blackened with soot, and his forge blazed with a fierce orange glow.

"Maegnor!" Xena called out, walking over with a bright, almost sarcastic smile. "Tell me you've got my armor ready."

Maegnor barely looked up from his work, shaking his head. "Not yet. You'll have to wait a few more days."

Xena crossed her arms and let out an exaggerated sigh. "A few more days? I'll be dead by then!"

"You're impatient," Maegnor muttered, hammering a piece of metal into shape. "It'll be done when it's done. Come back later."

Xena glanced at Legolas, who stood nearby, smirking at the exchange. "See?" he said, leaning casually against a post. "I told you."

"Shut up, elf," Xena grumbled, though there was no real malice in her words. She knew she wouldn't get anywhere with Maegnor today, but it was worth trying. "Fine, fine," she relented, "I'll come back later."

They spent the rest of the day wandering through the market, grabbing a bite to eat, and bantering in their usual playful, sarcastic manner. Xena pointed out boots that were "too pretty" or "too dainty" for her liking, while Legolas made dry remarks about her fashion sense—or lack thereof. It was an easy, lighthearted day, the kind that kept Legolas distracted, even if only for a little while.

As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the valley, they made their way back to their chambers. The sounds of the market faded behind them, replaced by the soft rustle of leaves and the distant rush of waterfalls.

When they reached the quiet path leading to their rooms, Legolas finally broke the silence. "You've kept me busy all day," he said, his voice soft, though there was a slight edge to it.

Xena glanced at him, her brow furrowing slightly. "What are you talking about?"

"You think I haven't noticed?" he said, turning to face her fully, his pale blue eyes studying her with a seriousness she hadn't seen earlier. "You've been trying to keep me distracted. Since this morning. The fight, the visit to Maegnor, the market… You don't need to pretend, Xena."

For a moment, Xena felt caught off guard. She hadn't expected him to call her out like this, and for a second, she wasn't sure how to respond. But then, her typical confidence kicked in, and she gave him a wry smile.

"I don't know what fantasy world you're living in, elf," she said, her voice teasing, "but I just wanted to kick your ass in a fight, get my armor, and maybe find some decent boots. The rest is all in your head."

Legolas stared at her, the intensity in his gaze making her pulse quicken. He wasn't buying it, and she knew it. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence between them heavy with unspoken words.

"You can deny it all you want," Legolas said quietly, stepping closer. "But I know what you're doing. And… I appreciate it."

Xena swallowed, the sudden proximity between them making her heart beat a little faster. She wasn't used to him being so open, so direct. It unnerved her, but it also intrigued her.

"Don't get too used to it," she muttered, her voice softer now. "I'm not your babysitter."

Legolas's lips curved into a faint smile. "I never said you were."

The air between them was thick with tension—an intensity that felt both dangerous and thrilling. Xena held his gaze for a moment longer before finally stepping back, breaking the spell. "Come on," she said, her voice returning to its usual casual tone. "You'll need your rest. Tomorrow's another day."

Legolas nodded, his expression softening as he watched her walk away. "Yes," he murmured to himself. "Tomorrow."

((Upcoming Chapter Fifty-Seven))

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