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)

ActIII

Return of the Queen

Chapter 102: Setting off Gondor

Minas Tirith, 3019 TA, April 1st

The sun was rising over Gondor as Legolas and Xena mounted their horses, ready to set off on their journey. Legolas's face was calm, serene as ever, but there was a subtle tension in the set of his jaw. Xena, however, wore a mischievous grin, her eyes alight with the kind of energy that made Legolas uneasy.

As they began their ride through the gates, it became apparent that Xena had no intention of letting their departure go unnoticed. Gondor's people were already stirring, their curious gazes following the pair. Children ran to the sides of the street, pointing at the elven prince and the warrior woman.

It was when they reached the outer courtyard near the stables that Xena saw her opportunity to make their exit memorable. Eomer and Éowyn, who had been speaking with a group of Rohirrim riders, turned as they approached. Éowyn smiled warmly, her admiration for Xena evident.

"Riding out so early?" Éowyn asked, stepping forward. "What calls you away from Gondor so soon?"

Before Legolas could craft a vague but respectful response, Xena nudged her horse forward. She straightened dramatically in the saddle, her voice ringing out loud enough for all nearby to hear.

"We ride to seek the 'legendary glowing mushrooms' of Ithilien!" she declared, her tone laden with faux gravitas.

Legolas froze, his grip tightening on his reins. His horse shifted uneasily beneath him, sensing his discomfort. "Xena," he hissed under his breath, his voice low and warning.

But she was already committed to the act. She raised a hand, gesturing as though calling upon the heavens. "These mushrooms," she continued, addressing the now-growing crowd of onlookers, "are not just any mushrooms. They glow with an otherworldly light, capable of healing wounds, restoring strength, and—" she paused for effect, glancing meaningfully at Éomer—"enhancing one's courage and charm."

Éomer, who had been leaning casually against his horse, straightened, his expression torn between amusement and disbelief. "Glowing mushrooms?" he repeated, his tone half-laughing. "Legolas, is this true?"

Legolas, now the center of attention, shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. He glanced at Xena, who was watching him with a barely concealed smirk, and then back at Éomer. "They are… rare," he said carefully, his voice strained, "and… valuable."

"Oh, quite valuable," Xena chimed in, her grin widening. "So valuable, in fact, that we couldn't risk sending anyone else to retrieve them."

Éowyn tilted her head, her expression skeptical but amused. "And what, pray tell, makes these mushrooms so important?"

"They glow," Xena said simply, as though that explained everything.

Éomer folded his arms, his grin now unmistakable. "Glow, do they? And where exactly do you plan to find these miraculous fungi?"

"In the depths of Ithilien," Xena replied solemnly. She turned to Legolas, her expression serious. "Tell them, Legolas. You've heard the tales, haven't you?"

Legolas's patience, already fraying, snapped. "Xena—" he began, his voice sharp.

But the crowd was waiting, their eyes wide with curiosity and anticipation. He sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose before resigning himself to the absurdity of the situation. "Yes," he said flatly. "I have… heard the tales."

Xena's grin turned triumphant. "There you have it!" she said, spreading her arms wide. "Straight from the prince of Mirkwood himself."

Éomer chuckled, shaking his head. "I must say, Legolas, I never thought I'd see the day when you became a hunter of mushrooms."

Legolas glared at him, though his irritation was directed more at Xena than anyone else. "It is… an important quest," he muttered, though the words tasted bitter on his tongue.

Xena leaned over, patting his arm in mock reassurance. "Don't worry, Legolas. When we return with the mushrooms, you'll be a hero."

Éowyn's laughter joined her brother's as they stepped aside to let the pair pass. "Safe travels," Éowyn called, her tone light with amusement.

As they rode out of Gondor, the sounds of laughter and whispered jokes followed them, carried on the breeze. The moment they were out of earshot, Legolas pulled his horse to a stop and turned to Xena, his frustration evident. "Was that necessary?" he demanded.

"Absolutely," Xena replied without hesitation, her grin unrepentant.

He stared at her, his composure fraying once again. "Glowing mushrooms? Enhancing courage and charm? Do you 'delight' in making me a subject of ridicule?"

She tilted her head thoughtfully. "A little," she admitted.

Legolas groaned, running a hand through his hair. "You realize that Éomer will never let me forget this."

"Oh, he'll forget," Xena said breezily. "Right around the time we bring him back some glowing mushrooms."

He shot her a look that could have felled an orc. "There are no glowing mushrooms, Xena."

"Not with that attitude," she said, spurring her horse forward with a laugh.

Legolas sighed heavily, urging his horse to follow. Somewhere, deep in his soul, he knew that this journey would be one of the longest of his immortal life.

The rhythmic clatter of hooves against stone faded as Xena and Legolas rode through the lower levels of Minas Tirith, finally emerging through the main gate, where workers were repairing the damage left by war. Their pace was steady but unhurried, the quiet between them filled with the soft creak of leather saddles and the rustle of the wind. Both wore their armor, their weapons secured on their horses, but neither seemed ready for combat—at least not the kind fought with swords or arrows.

It should have been a relief to ride out together again. They had faced countless dangers before, had stood side by side in battles that would linger in the songs of Middle-earth for generations. But this time, it was different. The air between them felt heavy, charged with an unspoken tension that neither dared address. The foolishness of the glowing mushroom tale had been a welcome distraction, but now, with only the open road ahead, the weight of their emotions pressed down on them like the summer heat.

Xena glanced at Legolas, catching the faint crease in his brow, the way his usually steady gaze seemed unfocused. She smirked. If there was one thing she knew how to do, it was to disrupt his elven coolness.

"Well," she said, breaking the silence, "that wasn't so bad back there, was it?"

Legolas didn't respond immediately. His gaze remained on the horizon, but his lips tightened. "If you are referring to your… elaborate performance before Aragorn, I would not call it 'bad.' Mortifying, perhaps."

Xena laughed, the sound loud and carefree, making a nearby flock of birds scatter into the sky. "Oh, come on. You can't tell me you didn't enjoy it just a little. Admit it—'glowing mushrooms' has a certain charm."

Legolas turned to her, his expression exasperated. "Xena, if I never hear the phrase 'glowing mushrooms' again, it will be too soon."

"Fair enough," she said, holding up her hands in mock surrender. But her grin hinted that the topic was far from closed.

As they reached the plains beyond the city, the sound of hoofbeats caught their attention. A familiar figure appeared on the horizon, riding toward them on a tall white horse.

"Mithrandir," Legolas said, his voice softening with a mixture of relief and curiosity.

Xena shielded her eyes against the sun. "Ah, the wizard himself. I wonder what he's doing out here. Checking on his favorite elf, maybe?"

Legolas shot her a look, but before he could respond, Gandalf reined in his horse beside them, his sharp eyes scanning their faces.

"Well, well," Gandalf said, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. "I heard rumors of your departure. Aragorn seemed… intrigued by your mission. Something about mushrooms?"

Legolas's jaw clenched, his hands tightening on the reins. "Xena's idea," he said quickly, his tone flat.

"Glowing mushrooms," Xena corrected, her grin returning full force.

Gandalf raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed but entertained nonetheless. "What makes these mushrooms worthy of such a noble expedition?"

Xena didn't miss a beat. "Oh, they're not just any mushrooms, Gandalf. These babies glow, heal wounds, restore energy, and—" she leaned forward conspiratorially—"might even make you look younger. Not that you need it, of course."

Gandalf chuckled, shaking his head. "I see your sense of humor is as sharp as ever, Xena. And what does Legolas think of all this?"

Legolas opened his mouth, but Xena cut him off. "Oh, he's thrilled," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "In fact, he's been reciting elven poetry about mushrooms since we left Gondor. Isn't that right, Legolas?"

Legolas nearly choked. "I most certainly have not!"

"Oh, don't be modest," she teased, her voice dripping with mock sincerity. "That one about the glowing caps under moonlight? Beautiful. Almost brought a tear to my eye."

Gandalf's lips twitched as he fought to suppress a smile. "Elven poetry about mushrooms? That would be… unique."

"Unique is one word for it," Legolas muttered, glaring at Xena. "Utter fabrication is another."

"And yet," Gandalf said, his tone thoughtful, "it is a rather fitting image. Perhaps you've started a new elven tradition, Legolas."

Xena burst out laughing, doubling over in her saddle. "See? Even Gandalf gets it. You're a trendsetter!"

Legolas sighed deeply, his patience clearly wearing thin. "Gandalf," he said, his voice strained, "are you here to impart wisdom or to fuel her nonsense?"

The wizard smiled, his eyes twinkling. "A little of both, perhaps. But mostly, I came to see that you travel safely. It seems, however, that you are in… capable hands."

Xena gave a mock salute. "You heard the wizard. I've got it covered."

Legolas groaned, rubbing his temple. "This journey will be the death of me."

"Oh, don't be so dramatic," Xena said, spurring her horse forward. "Come on, Mushroom Prince Let's go find your glowing treasure."

As Gandalf watched them ride off, he chuckled to himself, shaking his head. "An elf and a warrior on a quest for glowing mushrooms," he murmured. "Middle-earth will never cease to surprise me."

And as the pair disappeared over the horizon, Legolas silently resolved to never again let Xena take the lead in crafting their cover stories.

As they rode away from Gondor, the distant hum of the city fading behind them, the tension between Legolas and Xena seemed to settle into an uneasy truce—at least for a while. The rolling plains stretched before them, golden in the morning light, and their path toward the North-South Road was clear and uneventful. Legolas welcomed the silence, allowing himself to focus on the rhythmic sound of the horses' hooves and the gentle rustle of the wind through the grass.

Xena, however, was not one for silence. She had been humming quietly for a while, just loud enough to catch Legolas's attention. He glanced at her sideways, suspicion creeping into his expression.

"What are you doing?" he asked warily.

"Oh, nothing," she replied airily, a mischievous grin tugging at her lips. "Just thinking."

"That," he said, narrowing his eyes, "is rarely a good sign."

Her grin widened, and she sat up straighter in the saddle. "Actually, I've been inspired. You know, by your new title."

Legolas groaned softly. "Xena, no."

But she ignored him entirely, her voice rising in a playful, singsong tone. The memory of Joxer and his infamous songs flitted through her mind, and though she'd never imagined herself mimicking him, today it seemed strangely fitting. Singing wasn't exactly her forte, nor did she have much inclination for it, but the expression on Legolas's face made it worthwhile. His reaction—part surprise, part bewilderment—was a rare reward.

It was more than just a game to ease the tension; it was her way of dousing the flames burning within her, a fire that seemed to grow with every moment they spent together. For now, at least, it worked—for both of them. She started: "Oh, the Mushroom Prince rides far and wide, Through forests deep, where mushrooms hide. With a bow so keen and hair so bright, He searches for mushrooms, glowing with light!"

Legolas closed his eyes, his jaw tightening as his grip on the reins visibly shifted. "Xena…"

She continued, undeterred, her voice growing louder: "They call him brave, they call him fair, With leaves in his hair and mushrooms to spare. Oh, Mushroom Prince, so noble and true, Bring back those mushrooms—Gondor needs you!"

Legolas nearly stopped his horse. His pale cheeks flushed, and he shot her a glare sharp enough to pierce through stone. "Xena, enough."

"Enough?" she echoed, feigning innocence. "I was just getting to the good part! There's a verse about how you glow more brightly than the mushrooms themselves."

He groaned, rubbing his temple with one hand. "Must you mock me at every turn?"

"It's not mockery," she said, smirking. "It's art. You should be flattered. Songs like this could outlive us both."

"I would rather they did not exist at all," he muttered, shaking his head.

She leaned over slightly, her grin impossibly wide. "Oh, come now, Mushroom Prince. Don't be so sour. You're the hero of the song!"

"I am the victim of your mischief," he shot back, his voice laced with exasperation.

Xena laughed, leaning back in her saddle. "You're no fun, Legolas. I bet Gimli would have joined in with harmony."

Legolas glared at her, his lips pressing into a thin line. "If you value peace on this journey, you will refrain from singing about mushrooms—or anything else."

"Peace?" she teased. "What is peace without a little laughter?"

"For me, peace is silence," he said, his tone clipped.

Xena smirked, but for the moment, she relented, letting her voice drop back into a hum. Legolas sighed in relief, but the faint flush on his cheeks remained, and he could not help but glance at her from the corner of his eye, wary of whatever foolishness she might conjure next.

As they rode on, Xena's hums turned into faint whispers of lyrics, barely audible but just loud enough to keep Legolas on edge. Somewhere in the distance, birds scattered into the sky, and the serene landscape carried the echoes of a warrior's mischievous melody and an elf's simmering frustration.

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the landscape as they rode in silence. The remnants of war were ever-present, even here near the Druadan Forest. Broken weapons, scattered armor, and the occasional grim sight of bodies yet to be tended to served as solemn reminders of the price paid for victory. The air was heavy with a lingering sadness, though the forest itself seemed untouched, its dense canopy shielding them from the worst of the sights.

Legolas spotted a clearing near a small pool of water, the area seemingly untouched by death. It was a rare oasis of calm amidst the devastation. "We can rest here," he said softly, guiding his horse toward the spot.

Xena followed, her sharp eyes scanning their surroundings. "Good choice," she said, dismounting with ease. "Safe, quiet, and the horses will appreciate the water."

Setting up camp was a practiced routine for both of them. Legolas gathered kindling for a small fire while Xena unpacked their sparse provisions. They worked without speaking, their movements efficient and deliberate, but the silence between them felt charged, as though an unspoken tension lingered in the air.

Once the fire was lit, they settled on either side, their only meal a modest fare of bread and cheese from Gondor. The crackling flames offered some warmth against the encroaching chill of the night, but it did little to ease the unease that neither seemed willing to acknowledge.

It was Xena who broke the silence first.

"Legolas," she said, her tone casual yet pointed, "you don't have to seek solitude tonight."

The elf paused mid-bite, her words catching him off guard. He lowered the piece of bread slowly, his sharp features momentarily unreadable. "What do you mean?"

She leaned back, studying him across the fire. "Don't seek sleep in solitude. I figured… maybe tonight you wouldn't."

Legolas's gaze flickered, the firelight reflecting in his eyes as he considered her words.

"I've seen you wake up from them—your nightmares. You always try to hide it, but you're not as subtle as you think," she went on, her tone firm but not unkind.

He looked away, his usually serene expression shadowed by a flicker of vulnerability. "It is not something I discuss lightly."

"I'm not asking for a discussion," she said, breaking off a piece of cheese and popping it into her mouth. "I'm just saying… you don't have to sleep alone."

There was a long pause as Legolas weighed his response. When he finally spoke, his voice was measured but tinged with something deeper—gratitude, perhaps, or an attempt to mask his discomfort. "I wasn't planning to seek solitude tonight," he said, his lips curving into the faintest hint of a smile. "I thought I'd stay here, endure whatever torment you decide to inflict upon me about glowing mushrooms."

Xena's grin was immediate, sharp and playful. "Oh, I'm not done with the mushrooms yet. I've got a whole repertoire of jokes ready to go."

Legolas raised an eyebrow, a trace of humor creeping into his expression. "Do your worst, Xena. It wouldn't be the first time I've faced a formidable opponent."

She chuckled, leaning back on her hands. "Careful what you wish for, Mushroom Prince. You might regret issuing that challenge."

He shook his head, the faint smile lingering. "I doubt that." But his tone carried a note of sincerity beneath the jest.

For a moment, the tension between them seemed to ease, replaced by the comfort of shared companionship. The fire crackled softly, and the night settled around them like a quiet embrace.

Yet as they lapsed into silence again, Legolas found himself glancing at Xena, her face illuminated by the firelight. There was a strength in her, one he admired deeply—a strength that extended even to her willingness to confront what he himself had spent centuries avoiding.

"Xena," he said after a long pause, his voice softer now, "thank you."

"For what?" she asked, her tone light but her eyes searching his.

"For reminding me," he said, his gaze steady on hers, "that solitude is not the only way to face what haunts us."

Her grin softened into something gentler. "Anytime, Legolas. But don't think that means I'm going easy on you. I've got a whole song about glowing mushrooms to finish."

He groaned, leaning back against his saddle with a sigh. "I take it back. Solitude suddenly seems appealing again."

Her laughter echoed into the night, and though the tension wasn't entirely gone, it felt less oppressive. For now, they were together, and that was enough.

Sleep came sooner than expected, perhaps because the laughter and lightness of their earlier exchange had finally given them both a fleeting sense of peace. The agreement that Legolas would remain in the camp, sharing the night rather than withdrawing into solitude, marked a small but meaningful improvement. Xena, for her part, welcomed the quiet, choosing not to stir up more mischief. She'd caused enough ruckus for one day.

The glowing mushrooms, in their absurdity, had served a purpose she hadn't anticipated. They had provided her an escape—a shield against thoughts she wasn't ready to face. The emotions stirring in her heart were dangerous, complex, and better left unexamined for now. There was also the growing connection between her and Legolas, something deeper and intangible, as though fragments of his emotions and thoughts were seeping into her own.

As she lay down, she closed her eyes and decided not to dwell on it. Tonight, it was enough to simply be here, traveling beside him again. The rest could wait.

For Legolas, however, sleep brought no such reprieve. Though he had chosen to remain with her in the camp, his heart remained restless. The quiet moments only amplified the questions and feelings he could not allow himself to indulge. He drifted off reluctantly, and as always, his nightmares were waiting for him.

Hours passed, the night deepening around them. Xena had been asleep but woke suddenly, alerted by a sound that felt out of place. It took her a moment to realize it was Legolas. His breathing, usually so silent and steady, was heavier, erratic, almost gasping.

She sat up, her sharp eyes immediately finding him across the dim light of the dying fire. He lay still, but his body was tense, his face glistening with sweat. His brows were furrowed, and his lips moved faintly, though no words escaped. The anguish in his expression was unmistakable, a silent struggle against the haunting specters of his past.

Xena knew this pain. She had seen it before in him, watched the guilt and grief that shadowed him like a persistent storm. Tonight, however, it seemed worse. His pride, his centuries of endurance, and his refusal to seek help had always left him carrying this burden alone. She understood that better than anyone.

She admired him for it, even as it frustrated her. His resolve, his strength in the face of unbearable memories—these were qualities she shared. Her own wrongdoings, the sins of her past, had driven her to a life of atonement. Yet she had learned to sleep with her nightmares, to let them be part of her existence without letting them consume her.

But Legolas… he hadn't reached that point. He couldn't, and she understood why. He bore the weight of his guilt differently, refusing to reconcile with it, enduring it instead like an open wound he would never allow to heal.

Her chest tightened as she watched him suffer. She hated seeing him like this. The proud, stubborn elf she so often sparred with in jest felt like a distant memory at this moment. Seeing him vulnerable, reduced to this silent torment, was almost unbearable.

Rising quietly from her bedroll, Xena walked to his side. She knelt beside him, hesitating for a moment. She didn't know how to fix this—his grief, his guilt. She could face curses, undo the work of magic, and even fight the shadow of Alakar that loomed over him. But this? This was a wound of the heart, and time alone would not heal it.

Carefully, she reached out and shifted his head onto her lap. She leaned back against the trunk of the tree behind them, her fingers slowly threading through his silver hair, trying to soothe the tension etched into his features. She used the edge of his blanket to gently wipe the sweat from his brow, her touch tender and unhurried.

To her surprise, Legolas instinctively leaned into her. His body relaxed slightly, the rigidity of his posture easing as his arm came to rest around her waist. He shifted, half-laying against her, his breathing slowly evening out.

Xena's heart ached as she watched him. Perhaps this was the answer—not words, not solutions, but presence. To remind him that he wasn't alone, that someone else was here, willing to share the weight he carried.

She let her head rest against the trunk, her fingers continuing their soft, rhythmic motion through his hair. The fire crackled faintly, the forest alive with the sounds of the night, but her focus remained on him. For the first time since their journey began, she felt something shift. His pain, though still present, seemed to ease, if only a little.

"This doesn't make you weak, you know," she murmured softly, though she knew he wouldn't hear her in his sleep. "You don't have to fight it all alone. Not anymore."

Her words hung in the quiet air, unspoken promises woven into the gentle touch of her hand. She didn't need to say more. For tonight, it was enough to hold him, to remind him in his dreams that he was not abandoned by his grief.

As the night wore on, Xena stayed awake, watching over him, her heart heavier yet strangely lighter. She couldn't take away his pain, but she could be there. And for now, that was enough.

((Upcoming Chapter One-Hundred-Three))

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