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)

ActVII

Friends of New/Old

Chapter 80: Words Unbound

Imladris, October 20th 3018 T.A

The halls of Rivendell were filled with a gentle, golden light as the evening sun cast long, soft rays through the archways and open windows. Legolas walked quietly, his footfalls nearly silent, as he returned to his chamber after a long day of meetings. The nobles of Rivendell had kept him occupied with polite but unrelenting conversations, ones that kept him rooted in formalities he would have rather avoided. Still, now that the darkness had receded and his strength had returned, he felt a renewed sense of duty—a readiness to fulfill his obligations, even if they were less than exciting.

Lost in thought, Legolas rounded a corner and nearly collided with a figure moving in the opposite direction. He stopped short, and there, just before him, was Aragorn, dust from the road still clinging to his worn cloak, his hair disheveled but his eyes bright.

"Aragorn!" Legolas's face lit up with a genuine smile, and he clasped his old friend by the shoulders. "You've finally returned."

Aragorn returned the gesture with equal warmth, a grin breaking through the travel-weariness on his face. "I have, and not a moment too soon, it seems. I half expected Rivendell to be in ruins by now with you left to your own devices."

Legolas laughed, the sound carrying an ease that had been absent in recent days. "Perhaps I should take offense, but truth be told, I've kept myself occupied. Too occupied, some might say."

Aragorn's brow raised slightly, and he gave his friend a knowing look. "Occupied with what? Rivendell hardly seems like a place to breed trouble."

They fell into step together, and without another word, Legolas guided Aragorn toward the gardens, where the fresh evening air was cool, and the trees swayed gently. The gardens were a place where conversations could flow freely, unhindered by walls or listeners. As they walked, the bond between them—the bond of trust and friendship forged in countless battles and journeys—felt as strong as ever.

"Trouble finds its way to me, even here," Legolas admitted after a moment. "Though it wasn't entirely uninvited. I… took on a quest, you could say. For someone else."

Aragorn's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "You truly have found yourself in mischief. Go on, tell me. I sense there's more to this story."

Legolas hesitated, glancing around them as if to weigh how much to share. "It had to do with the mortal Xena, who was traveling with us to Rivendell. You met her. "

Aragorn's expression shifted to one of deep interest. "And yet you speak of her as a friend."

"More than a friend, in some ways," Legolas admitted, his tone reflective. "She saved my life, and she's earned my respect. She broke her weapon while aiding me, I thought to repay my debt and offered to help her find a sword."

Aragorn chuckled, nodding with understanding. "So, naturally, you threw yourself into a reckless quest. It's good to see nothing has changed."

They shared a laugh, both men easing into the familiarity of their camaraderie. As they moved deeper into the gardens, the scent of flowers filled the air, mingling with the earthy fragrance of the evening. The weight of recent days seemed to lift as they spoke, each of them finding comfort in the presence of the other.

"But there's more, isn't there?" Aragorn's voice grew quieter as he looked at Legolas. "There's a weight I haven't seen on you before."

Legolas glanced away for a moment, watching the trees sway in the soft breeze. "You always could see past my armor," he replied, a faint smile touching his lips. "It was not the quest itself, but what followed. A darkness—one that seemed to find me in my weakest moments."

Aragorn's expression grew serious, concern flickering in his eyes. "Darkness? What kind?"

"Nightmares, and more than nightmares." Legolas's voice dropped as he recounted the shadows that had plagued him, feeding off his grief and guilt until he could barely recognize himself. "They weren't of my own making, Aragorn. They felt… foreign, as though something was leeching from me. Xena noticed the toll it took and insisted we asked for Elrond's aid. With his help, and Gandalf's, they managed to ease the hold it had on me. But the shadows still linger, waiting to return."

Aragorn placed a hand on Legolas's shoulder, his gaze steady. "There are forces gathering that we cannot yet see, forces that touch even the strongest among us. But you have friends who will stand beside you. And from what you've told me, Xena… she seems fierce, but loyal."

Legolas nodded, feeling a renewed gratitude for both the friends who had pulled him through and the friend now standing beside him. "She's proven herself more than once. And yes, fiercely loyal—stubborn, even."

"That makes two of you," Aragorn said, his eyes twinkling with humor.

They continued their walk in silence for a few moments, each of them absorbing the atmosphere of Rivendell, which seemed suspended in its own quiet peace. The distant murmur of water from the falls filled the air, and the light grew softer as the evening crept in.

After a while, Aragorn turned to Legolas, his expression shifting to one of resolve. "While I was gone, I met with Frodo. He's here, with the Ring. You and I both know what that means."

Legolas's face turned somber. "Yes, I sensed something was coming. The darkness growing in the East. I can feel it."

Aragorn nodded. "Elrond has called a council. A time will come soon when we must choose our path, perhaps the hardest path any of us have ever walked."

Legolas sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Then we'll walk it together. Whatever awaits us, we'll face it as we always have."

They stood together, silent yet steadfast, and Legolas felt a deep sense of reassurance knowing Aragorn would be by his side. Whatever shadows or foes might come, he knew he could rely on the strength of friendship and loyalty they had forged through years of hardship.

They continued their walk through Rivendell's gardens, their conversation drifting back to lighter matters, tales of past adventures and shared memories. In the fading light, their laughter mingled with the sounds of the river and the soft murmur of the evening. And though there were shadows on the horizon, they knew they would face them together, bound by friendship and the unbreakable ties of those who carry the weight of the world on their shoulders.

In the quiet stillness of Rivendell's library, Xena poured over maps, her fingers tracing lines on worn parchment as she memorized hidden trails and uncharted paths. She had spent days absorbed in planning, trying to find her own way forward and undo the shadowy quest that had brought her here, the one that urged her to take Legolas's life—a mission she now deeply regretted. Yet, this regret was a weight she bore alone, her thoughts drifting often to Umbar and the fate of the one she was to hunt.

Deep in thought, she barely noticed the gentle, measured footsteps approaching until the faint smell of pipe smoke wafted near. Gandalf entered, his expression troubled, yet softened by a gleam of wisdom in his keen eyes. The wizard paused, noticing her concentration, his eyes lingering on the intricate maps before her.

"Studying the lay of Middle-earth, are we?" Gandalf said quietly, his tone both curious and knowing.

Xena looked up, surprised yet unsurprised to see him. "Yes," she replied, carefully folding one of the maps. "Just trying to see where I fit in all of this… and perhaps where I don't."

The old wizard gave a small nod, settling down on a wooden chair across from her. He lit his pipe, his gaze thoughtful. "It's not every day one finds themselves walking a path they did not choose, or in a world they never imagined."

She regarded him, sensing that Gandalf had more insight than he let on. "You know I'm not from Middle-earth, don't you?"

"Indeed," Gandalf replied, his eyes narrowing with the weight of his knowledge. "You're not the first I've encountered who seems out of place here. I suspect there's more to your presence than mere chance."

Xena hesitated, feeling the gravity of this conversation. Here, finally, was someone who might know more, someone Aragorn and Legolas had suggested could offer answers. She took a steadying breath. "I've been trying to find a way back, Gandalf. Not that I don't appreciate this world, but... it's not mine."

Gandalf regarded her closely, nodding slowly as if weighing her words with a deeper wisdom. "Returning may not be as simple as retracing your steps. You were brought here for a purpose, whether of your own making or of someone else's."

She clenched her jaw, her thoughts veering back to the quest for Legolas, the reason she was bound to reach Rivendell in the first place. She'd been so driven by a dark purpose, misled and manipulated. "I don't even understand how I got here, and yet... I find myself bound to things I didn't choose. And then, there's the wound... the Morgul blade."

Gandalf's expression changed, his eyes widening ever so slightly. "You, too, were wounded by a Morgul blade?" he asked, his voice a mix of concern and amazement.

"Yes," she admitted, lifting her sleeve slightly to reveal a scar that had long since healed over but still held a faint, eerie hue. "It was nearly fatal, but somehow, I survived with Elrond's aid"

The wizard sat back, puffing his pipe thoughtfully. "Wounds from a Morgul blade are not easily healed. Such an injury binds a person to the shadow in ways that are not fully understood." He paused, watching her closely. "It would seem your path, as mysterious as it is, shares a connection with the darkest forces of this world."

Xena leaned forward, her voice a whisper. "And what of Legolas? He carries a shadow, one that haunts him in ways I've never seen. It's as if his very spirit is scarred. You have seen it?"

Gandalf's face darkened, a hint of sorrow softening his features. "Legolas's shadow is old, tied to a deep grief that stems from the loss of his mother. You see, he believes himself responsible for her fate, and that guilt has left him with a wound of his own, though it is not one of flesh."

Xena exhaled, finally hearing in words what she had suspected. She felt a pang of sympathy for the elf prince who had fought so fiercely beside her yet carried such invisible burdens. "He won't speak of it—not fully. But I see how it weighs on him, even as he tries to hide it."

Gandalf gave her a small, knowing smile. "Elves carry their grief differently from mortals, Xena. They do not age as humans do, but their spirits can be burdened, and their memories run as deep as rivers. Legolas carries the pain of his mother's death as a scar on his fëa, his spirit. Such wounds fester unless they are confronted... and healed."

She frowned, her mind racing with the implications. "Is there no way to ease his suffering?"

"Perhaps," Gandalf replied softly. "But that healing must come from within, through trust, through companionship. Elves find solace in music, in friendship, and in the beauty of Middle-earth itself. Those bonds offer them resilience in ways we cannot fully comprehend. For new darkness that found him, we do not know much."

Xena absorbed his words, feeling the weight of them settle over her. She had grown close to Legolas, and yet, perhaps, she had underestimated the depths of his pain. And with Gandalf's words, she felt her own heart stir with a strange longing to see him freed from his anguish.

"Gandalf," she murmured, her voice wavering slightly, "I don't know what to do. I'm caught between helping him and... facing my own burdens. And then there's this place, this world. It's as if I've become a part of it, even though I don't belong here."

The wizard regarded her with a rare gentleness, reaching across the table to place a comforting hand over hers. "You are here for more than you realize. In helping others, we often find what we seek for ourselves. And Xena, you have already begun to leave your mark on Middle-earth, whether you intended to or not."

A small smile tugged at her lips, and for the first time, she felt a strange comfort in the uncertainty. She could almost sense that her purpose was not yet fully revealed, and that, somehow, she was where she needed to be.

As she turned to leave, Gandalf's voice called after her, warm and encouraging. "Xena, remember this: paths may twist and change, but as long as we have courage, we will find our way."

She nodded, looking back at the wise old wizard with newfound respect. "Thank you, Gandalf."

And with that, Gandalf left the library, leaving Xena behind, her mind clearer yet still drawn to the mystery of Legolas, her own purpose, and the strange destiny that bound her to this ancient world.

Xena had spent the better part of the afternoon in Rivendell's vast library, her fingers tracing over the ancient texts as she searched for information about her next steps. Her mind was set on returning to Umbar to resolve the quest she'd been set on, the one that had tangled her fate with that of Legolas and led her on paths that felt increasingly foreign. Deep in thought, she didn't immediately notice the figure approaching her as she exited the library, until a familiar voice called out.

"Xena," Aragorn greeted warmly, a faint smile on his rugged face. They hadn't spent much time together, but their meeting in Tharbad seemed like a lifetime ago, and seeing him now felt like reuniting with an old friend.

"Aragorn," she replied, matching his smile. She fell into step beside him, grateful for the company of someone who, like her, walked between worlds.

They exchanged stories as they strolled through Rivendell's winding paths, sharing updates about their respective journeys. Aragorn listened intently as Xena shared her intention to return to Umbar, her plan to abandon the dangerous quest she'd been manipulated into, and to return the gold that had come with it. She spoke quietly, careful not to reveal too much, and with a reluctance to admit her intentions openly to anyone else.

"It's been too long since I walked a path that was truly mine," she confided, her tone reflective. "But it's best not to share this with Legolas. He would only worry, and I want to keep things simple—for both our sakes."

Aragorn considered her words thoughtfully. "It's wise," he agreed. "If your heart guides you to this choice, then perhaps it's a path meant for you alone. But if I may suggest, it might be worth joining the council first. Lord Elrond himself has asked for you. And once it is over, where you go and what you choose is yours alone."

Xena nodded, appreciating his straightforward advice. She didn't want to be bound to anything that didn't resonate with her purpose, but she respected Elrond's summons and Aragorn's trust in her.

They walked in silence for a moment before Aragorn brought up Legolas. "He's carrying a new weight," he said quietly, his gaze distant. "Though Elrond and Gandalf have been able to ease his nightmares, something lingers. A shadow I haven't seen before."

Xena felt a pang of concern. "Keep an eye on him, Aragorn. You're his closest friend, and I think he trusts you more than anyone here."

Aragorn met her eyes, his expression resolute. "I will, for as long as he needs. Legolas has been my companion through many battles; he is one of the few I'd follow anywhere. And I believe he'd do the same for me."

Their conversation ended as they reached the point where their paths would diverge. Aragorn offered her a final nod, a shared understanding passing between them. She watched him go, feeling a rare sense of calm. Turning, she continued toward her chamber, thoughts of the council and her uncertain future mingling with the memories of her journey so far.

((Upcoming Chapter Eighty-One))

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