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

Lasgalen, the Little Leaf

Chapter 112: Reaching Mirkwood

Mirkwood, 3019 TA, May 2nd - 31st

As dawn broke over Minas Tirith, Xena stood by the stables, her hand resting on Chubby's sturdy neck. The chestnut mare snorted softly, sensing the tension in her rider. Xena tightened the saddle's straps, her gaze fixed eastward. The journey to Mirkwood would be long and fraught with danger, but it was necessary. With Legolas's brooch safely tucked inside her leather armor, Xena whispered a quiet vow to herself: "I'll see this through, for him."

The city slowly awoke behind her, the sounds of merchants and soldiers preparing for the day's duties fading as she guided Chubby out through the great gates. The white walls of Minas Tirith glowed in the morning light, a stark contrast to the shadows lurking in Xena's thoughts.

She was deeply worried, more than she had been in a long time. The journey to Mirkwood—one she had undertaken before—would take nearly a month, perhaps longer depending on the conditions. She wasn't sure if Legolas could hold on that long. That uncertainty weighed heavily on her, fueling her resolve. She had no choice but to ride hard, pausing only for the briefest of necessary breaks.

Dressed in her armor, she felt the familiar weight of her chakram at her side and the sword Legolas had helped her reclaim strapped across her back. She was prepared, at least outwardly. But knowing who Alakar truly was only made the mission more perilous. It wasn't just the distance or the danger—it was the stakes. She placed her hope in Thranduil. If anyone could help, it was the Elvenking.

Though she could make the journey alone, perhaps even succeed on her own, she knew she couldn't afford to take that chance. The risks were too great, and she had promised Legolas. That promise was a tether, holding her steady even as the storm of fear and doubt threatened to overwhelm her.

The first leg of the journey was uneventful, a chance for Xena to gather her thoughts. Chubby's rhythmic gait and the rolling plains of Rohan were oddly soothing. She passed scattered villages, offering brief words to curious farmers and herding children who stared wide-eyed at the warrior princess on her impressive steed.

At night, she made camp under the open sky. She spent her evenings sharpening her sword and mulling over Gandalf and Elrond's words. The curse-binding Legolas was a knot she couldn't unravel alone. The looming presence of Dol Guldur and Alakar's darkness weighed heavily on her.

As Xena approached Edoras, she decided to bypass the city, unwilling to delay her mission. The golden halls of Meduseld glimmered in the distance, a testament to the resilience of Middle-earth's people in the face of encroaching darkness. Her thoughts, however, were far from the grandeur of the Rohirrim. They were with Legolas. Though she had not known him long, the bond they had forged felt as though it had spanned a lifetime. Too many shared memories, too many trials, had bound them in a way she had never anticipated.

She was still unaware of the true nature of their connection. Legolas had not yet explained, and Xena did not fully understand the ways of the Elves. In her world, the night they had spent together was significant but not binding; it was a moment of intimacy that could remain just that—if both wished it so. But in the elven world, things were different. She was bound to Legolas, not just by words or feelings, but by something deeper. Their fae, their very essences, had intertwined. Though she was not entirely conscious of this truth, the connection had already begun to manifest. Occasionally, his thoughts would brush against hers, fleeting impressions she couldn't explain.

At first, she dismissed them as echoes of her own worries, but the sensation grew more distinct. It was disorienting, as if fragments of his mind were reaching for hers. Stranger still were the visions that haunted her nights—glimpses of his nightmares. She couldn't fully understand what was happening, but the shared torment felt all too real. His fear, his guilt, seeped into her dreams, leaving her shaken and confused.

Would it truly matter if she understood? Perhaps not. Yet as she rode onward, her thoughts were not only consumed with worry for Legolas but also with the unsettling realization that something beyond her comprehension was taking root. Whatever this bond was, it tied her to him in ways she was only beginning to perceive, and it made her mission all the more urgent.

Crossing the Anduin was her first true challenge. As she reached the river's edge near the ancient ruins of Rauros, Xena sought out a ferryman. The man, weathered by years of navigating the river, was reluctant to assist her.

"The waters are treacherous this time of year," he warned, glancing nervously at the warrior's sharp blade. "And there are darker things than currents these days."

"I'll pay you double," Xena said firmly, pressing a pouch of gold into his hand. "Just get me across."

The crossing was tense. The boat rocked perilously in the swirling waters, and Xena's hand never strayed far from her chakram. She caught glimpses of shadows in the water, creatures of the undo of Sauron's lingering influence. But the ferryman's skill and her vigilance carried them safely to the eastern shore.

The journey along the Anduin River had been grueling, yet Xena felt a measure of peace as the golden woods of Lothlórien came into view across the shimmering waters. Her eyes lingered on the canopy of mallorn trees, their leaves glimmering with an ethereal light that seemed untouched by time or war. Though she had never set foot in Caras Galadhon, the heart of the golden wood, she knew the power and peace of this place were unlike anywhere else in Middle-earth.

Guiding Chubby carefully along the riverbank, she noticed a cluster of camps on the far side of the water. Elves of Lórien, clad in their silver and green, moved gracefully through the trees. Their presence was a testament to the lingering vigilance of the Galadhrim even after Sauron's fall.

As she approached, she was met with guarded curiosity. A group of sentries emerged from the trees, their bows half-drawn, their sharp eyes fixed on the lone rider. Xena raised a hand in greeting, her other hand never straying far from her chakram. The tension eased slightly as one of the elves stepped forward to address her.

"What business brings a lone traveler to the borders of the Golden Wood?" the elf asked, his common tongue flowing like a song yet edged with caution.

"I am Xena," she replied, meeting their gaze with calm confidence. "I seek passage to Mirkwood and guidance if it can be spared."

The mention of Mirkwood made the elves exchange wary glances, but before they could respond, a familiar voice cut through the air.

"Xena?"

She turned to see Haldir, his silver hair gleaming under the light of the trees. His face, calm and composed as ever, showed a flicker of surprise that quickly softened into a warm recognition. Beside him stood Rúmil, who offered her a nod, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword.

"Haldir," Xena greeted, a small smile breaking through her fatigue. "It's been a long time."

"Indeed," Haldir replied, his sharp eyes scanning her with a mixture of curiosity and concern. "I did not expect to see you here—alone, no less. Where is Legolas?"

Xena dismounted Chubby, brushing the dust from her armor. She let out a weary sigh. "He remains in Minas Tirith. There are… complications."

Haldir's brow furrowed, but he held his questions as he gestured for her to follow. "Come. We will speak in private."

Haldir led Xena through the dense foliage to a secluded glade where the trees formed a natural canopy overhead. The sound of the nearby river faded, leaving only the gentle rustle of leaves. Rúmil remained behind to tend to the camp, leaving the two alone.

"What troubles the prince?" Haldir asked once they stopped, his voice steady but laced with concern.

Xena took a deep breath, her fingers brushing against the brooch she carried. "Legolas is cursed, Haldir. His nightmares grow worse with each passing night. Gandalf and Elrond believe the root of this curse lies with Alakar. I think so too."

The name made Haldir's expression darken. "Alakar," he said slowly, his tone carrying the weight of centuries of elven memory. "A sorcerer of great malice. If he still lives, he must be rooted out. Where do you think he hides?"

Xena hesitated before answering. "Dol Guldur. Its darkness would suit him."

Haldir's expression hardened, his lips pressing into a thin line. "You may have a problem with that assumption," he said. "On the twenty-eighth of March this year, Dol Guldur was razed to the ground. Its corruption was purged by the power of Lady Galadriel herself. There is nothing left there, Xena—no shadow, no refuge for any creature of darkness."

Her heart sank at his words. She had pinned her hopes on finding Alakar in the ruined fortress, believing it to be the source of the nightmares tormenting Legolas. "Then where?" she asked, her frustration breaking through. "If Dol Guldur is empty, where could he be hiding?"

Haldir's expression softened, though his voice remained firm. "There are still shadows in Mirkwood. The forest is vast, and the darkness there lingers despite the Elvenking's efforts. Alakar may yet hide within its depths, though without Sauron's support, his strength will be diminished."

Xena nodded slowly, considering his words. "Then my path remains the same. I must speak with Thranduil. If anyone knows the secrets of Mirkwood, it is him."

Haldir studied her for a moment, his piercing gaze measuring her resolve. "You intend to travel alone?" he asked finally.

"I've faced worse," Xena replied, her tone resolute.

"Perhaps," Haldir said, "but Mirkwood is not a place to tread lightly, even for you." He paused, as if weighing a decision. "I will accompany you."

Xena blinked, caught off guard by the offer. "Haldir, you don't have to—"

"I insist," he interrupted. "You have done much for the people of Middle-earth, Xena, and I would not see you fall to the dangers of the forest. Besides, I owe Legolas a debt for his bravery at Helm's Deep. If aiding you can in turn aid him, then my path is clear."

Xena's lips curved into a small, grateful smile. "Thank you, Haldir. Your company would be welcome."

They wasted no time. Haldir briefed Rúmil on his departure, instructing him to maintain the watch over the border camps. Within the hour, he returned to Xena, mounted on a sleek grey steed that moved with the grace of its rider.

As they rode eastward, the golden woods of Lothlórien began to fade into memory, replaced by the darker, denser shadows of the wilderness. Xena felt a renewed sense of purpose as she rode alongside Haldir, their shared mission binding them in silent camaraderie.

Though the road ahead was fraught with uncertainty, she no longer felt entirely alone. Together, they would face whatever darkness awaited them in Mirkwood, determined to uncover the truth and put an end to Alakar's malice once and for all.

The forest loomed ahead, its trees dense and imposing, their dark trunks stretching skyward like sentinels. Xena felt a strange unease creeping into her thoughts as she and Haldir crossed the threshold of the once-great Greenwood. She had traveled through Mirkwood before when Sauron's hold was strong, and the woods seemed alive with malice. Now, though the darkness had receded, an unsettling shadow still lingered, as if the forest held its breath, wary of what might come next.

They rode swiftly, their steeds galloping through the undergrowth with practiced grace. Haldir led the way, his elven senses attuned to the faint whispers of the trees and the subtle shifts in the air. Time was their enemy, and every moment spent searching for Thranduil felt like an eternity.

"The Halls of the Elvenking are far," Haldir remarked, his voice calm yet edged with urgency. "Even at this pace, it will take days."

Xena nodded, her jaw set in determination. "I've considered changing course," she admitted. "Seeking Alakar directly. If he's still in Mirkwood, I might be able to find him and end this faster."

Haldir shot her a sharp glance, his expression both stern and concerned. "That would be folly," he said. "Thranduil knows this forest better than anyone. He will have the knowledge we need, and he will not stand idly by when his son is in danger. You must trust in that."

Xena sighed, her fingers tightening on Chubby's reins. "I just don't like wasting time. Legolas doesn't have much of it."

"And you think facing Alakar without understanding his full strength will save time?" Haldir countered, his tone softening slightly. "No. We go to Thranduil first. For Legolas's sake, we cannot act rashly."

As the days passed and they delved deeper into Mirkwood, Xena's thoughts turned to the king she had yet to meet. Thranduil, the Elvenking of the Woodland Realm, was a name spoken with a mix of awe and disdain among those who knew of him. She had heard the tales—of his wisdom, his fierce protection of his realm, and, just as often, his pride and arrogance.

If he was anything like Legolas, Xena thought, he would be a formidable figure. Legolas had inherited his father's pride and sense of duty, tempered by a deeper compassion that Xena had come to respect. But she couldn't ignore the stories.

She recalled Gimli's accounts of Thranduil imprisoning Thorin and his company, even Bilbo's verification of the tale. "Prisons," she muttered to herself with a wry smile. "If Gollum could escape them, I won't have much trouble."

Haldir, riding slightly ahead, glanced back at her. "What was that?"

"Just wondering if Thranduil might throw me in his dungeons," Xena said, her tone teasing but with an undercurrent of seriousness.

Haldir's lips twitched in what might have been a smile. "Do not remind him of such… events. It will not help our cause."

Xena smirked but nodded. "Noted."

Though she could think of countless reasons why the Elvenking might throw her into his dungeons, Xena knew she had already given Thranduil more than enough justification, had he known the full extent of her actions. It wasn't just her own suspicion—Legolas had warned her on more than one occasion. After certain escapades, he would often shake his head and say, 'If we were in Mirkwood, my father would have you locked away for that.'

And now, to complicate matters further, there was the undeniable fact that she had seduced the King's son and shared a night with him. Surely, that alone would do little to endear her to Thranduil—or lessen her chances of finding herself behind bars.

Unknown to Xena, Thranduil was already aware of her presence in Middle-earth and her growing connection to his son. His trusted warriors—Elros, Thalion, and Mírdan—had returned to the Halls of the Elvenking long before, bearing tales of their travels and encounters. Among those stories was the curious mention of Xena, the warrior maiden who had once been on a mission to kill Legolas.

The Elvenking had listened with growing concern as they recounted how Legolas had not only spared her but taken her under his protection. It was uncharacteristic of his son, who was usually cautious and reserved, especially around outsiders. But with this mortal woman, there had been something different—a spark of interest, a bond forming even in those early days.

Thranduil had dismissed the notion at first. His son was proud and independent, and any affection for a human would surely pass with time. But as the months passed, the reports became harder to ignore. Legolas had traveled with her, and fought beside her.

And now, she was riding to the Halls of Thranduil with Haldir of Lórien at her side, seeking his aid for Legolas. The thought made the Elvenking uneasy. His son was already suffering under the weight of a curse—what if this woman's presence had only deepened the danger? And what if… no, he would not entertain the thought that his son might have bonded with her. It was an absurd notion, but it lingered at the edge of his mind, refusing to be dismissed.

All those thoughts came rushing back to him as soon as his guards announced Haldir's approach, accompanied by a mortal. The way they described her left little doubt—it had to be her, Xena. But as relief warred with unease, a darker concern gnawed at him: where was his son?

Legolas should have been with her. His absence spoke volumes, and none of it was reassuring. For Xena to appear in his halls without Legolas at her side, something grave must have happened. Whatever had brought her here, it was serious enough to warrant crossing the length of Middle-earth and entering his realm unbidden. The weight of unspoken possibilities pressed heavily on him as he prepared to face her.

As Xena and Haldir approached the gates of the Woodland Realm, Xena felt her nerves heighten. The towering trees seemed to close in around them, the shadows deepening as they entered Thranduil's domain. Elven guards emerged from the gloom, their weapons at the ready, though their expressions remained calm and unreadable.

Haldir raised a hand in greeting, speaking in Sindarin. "I am Haldir of Lórien, and I bring Xena, We seek an audience with King Thranduil."

The guards exchanged glances before nodding. "The king has been expecting you," one of them said, his voice smooth and melodic. "Follow us."

Xena's heart quickened at the words. Expecting her? That was both reassuring and disconcerting. As she dismounted and followed the guards into the heart of the Woodland Realm, she felt a strange mix of anticipation and apprehension. She was about to meet the king who was not only Legolas's father but also one of the most enigmatic figures in Middle-earth. And she had no idea what kind of reception awaited her.

((Upcoming Chapter One-Hundred-Thirteen))

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