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 114: The Edge of Reason

Mirkwood, 3019 TA, June 1st

Alakar, a master of the dark arts, was a figure born of shadow and ambition. His loyalty was to nothing but power, his morality long eroded by centuries of deceit and cruelty. For ages, he had moved unseen, weaving a web of influence across Middle-earth. His hunger for dominion was insatiable, and Mirkwood—the vast, ancient forest shrouded in mystery and steeped in elven magic—was a prize he had long coveted.

Now, with Sauron vanquished and the remnants of the Dark Lord's forces scattered and waning, Alakar saw an opportunity. The vacuum of power called to him, drawing him back to the place he knew best. Mirkwood, with its lingering shadows and fractured defenses, was the perfect ground for his schemes. And with Thranduil ruling cautiously and the Woodland Elves still recovering from years of war, Alakar knew the time was ripe to act.

Thranduil sat upon his throne, his silver hair cascading like moonlight over his shoulders, his expression carved from stone. He was a being who had lived too long to dismiss the tides of change. Time had shaped and reshaped the world around him, but some truths remained unyielding. Alakar was one of those truths—a persistent threat, as cunning as he was cruel.

The Elvenking's thoughts wandered briefly to his own past, to the lessons learned under his father, Oropher. Times were different then, and so were the expectations. He imagined what his father might have said had Thranduil confessed he wished to abandon his princely duties for adventure. Oropher would have scoffed, of course, yet Thranduil had sought danger all the same, albeit within the constraints of duty.

Legolas, however, had been granted a different path—a freedom Thranduil had allowed, albeit reluctantly. His son's friendships were unconventional, to say the least. Men, dwarves, even this mortal woman, Xena—each relationship forged through shared struggles and mutual respect. And though Thranduil often questioned the wisdom of such alliances, he could not deny that they cared deeply for his son. That truth, at least, offered some solace.

Yet even in these changing times, certain constants remained. Alakar was not a foe to be underestimated. His cunning was matched only by his cruelty, and the Elvenking knew all too well the depths of his hatred. It was Alakar who had orchestrated the capture of Thranduil's wife, twisting her light into darkness and robbing their son of a mother's love. It was Alakar's manipulations that had led Legolas to be responsible for her death, a torment the prince had carried for centuries. And now, it was Alakar who hunted Legolas still, though not merely to kill him.

No, Thranduil thought grimly, Alakar's goals were rarely so simple. Perhaps, at one time, the prince's death was his aim. The bounty on Legolas's name had made that clear enough. But now... now, the dark sorcerer's plans seemed more intricate, more deliberate. Alakar was slowing his movements, shifting his tactics. He was plotting something larger, though the full scope of his scheme eluded even Thranduil.

The human, Xena, had been right about one thing: Legolas was in danger. That truth gnawed at the Elvenking's composure, though he refused to let it show. Still, the news of her escape through the wine cellars, in a manner reminiscent of Thorin's company, brought the faintest flicker of exasperation to his otherwise impassive face. He had not taken her imprisonment lightly, but neither did he take her recklessness seriously. For all her skill and determination, Xena was as impulsive as any mortal—a quality that both impressed and infuriated him.

Thranduil sighed softly and leaned back against his throne, his fingers brushing the faint line of the cut she had left on his cheek. A small price for what had been an admirable display of resolve, though it did little to change his decision. If anything, it only solidified his belief that she could not be left to act on her own.

He summoned his closest —Elros, Thalion, Mírdan, and Tauriel—calling them back to the throne room. As they entered, their faces grim but attentive, he gestured for the doors to be closed behind them.

"This changes everything," Thranduil began, his voice calm but laced with authority. "Alakar is already one step ahead of us. He always has been. But now, with the human on the loose, we must act quickly. Our approach must change."

Tauriel, ever bold, spoke first. "My lord, Xena is reckless, but she is no fool. Her loyalty to Legolas is clear, and her skills—"

"Her skills are not in question," Thranduil interrupted his tone sharp but measured. "It is her unpredictability that concerns me. If Alakar discovers her presence, he will use her against us. Against Legolas. Against me."

Elros stepped forward, his expression thoughtful. "And yet, my lord, would it not be wiser to guide her efforts rather than obstruct them? She seeks the same end as we do—to find Alakar and stop him. With our guidance, she could be an asset rather than a liability."

Thranduil's gaze turned to Haldir, who had been silent until now. "What say you, Lord of Lothlórien?"

Haldir inclined his head, his voice calm but firm. "The mortal is fearless, that much is certain. I have seen her fight, and she is formidable. But you are right to be cautious, my lord. Alakar will not hesitate to use her as leverage. If she falls into his hands, it could jeopardize everything."

The Elvenking nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. "Exactly. Alakar does not play fair. He will exploit every weakness, no matter how small. And for all her strength, Xena is a mortal—a fragile thread in a web of elves."

"But she is also determined," Tauriel argued, her voice steady but passionate. "And if anyone can endure Alakar's games, it is her."

Thranduil's eyes narrowed, his fingers tapping a slow, deliberate rhythm on the armrest of his throne. He was silent for a moment, his thoughts sharp and calculating. Recalling the news of her escape. Thranduil had anticipated this, though he would not openly admit it. After all, his dungeons had held the likes of Thorin Oakenshield and Gollum, both of whom had managed to escape. That a warrior like Xena had found her way out was hardly surprising.

Of course she would, he thought, the faintest hint of exasperation flickering across his otherwise impassive face. His gaze shifted to Elros, Thalion, and Mírdan, the three standing at attention before him. These were men he trusted implicitly, warriors of skill and loyalty.

"Elros," Thranduil said, his tone steady but commanding, "you will take Thalion and Mírdan and ride east along the Forest River. She is on foot, without her horse. If you ride swiftly, you can cover the distance easily and intercept her."

Elros inclined his head, a silent acknowledgment of the order. There was no need for words; his agreement was clear in the sharpness of his gaze and the resolute set of his jaw.

Thranduil studied them for a moment, his keen eyes lingering on Elros in particular. He had noticed something subtle but telling since their return from escorting Xena to the dungeons. When they spoke of her, there was a respect in their tone—a quiet reverence he did not often hear when mortals were discussed. Xena had not only earned Legolas's trust but had, it seemed, won over Thranduil's most loyal men as well. That alone spoke volumes about her character and resolve.

Yet Thranduil was not merely a father or a warrior; he was a king. And as king, he was bound to weigh every decision with careful precision. He could not ignore the risk she posed, nor the danger she might face alone.

He straightened slightly, his gaze firm as he continued. "When you find her," he said, his voice carrying a weight of authority, "you will not bring her back. Instead, you will ride with her and offer your aid. She will need all the help she can get."

Elros, Thalion, and Mírdan bowed as one, their movements precise and disciplined. "We will leave at once, my lord," Elros said, his voice calm and resolute.

As they turned to leave the throne room, Thranduil added, his tone softer but no less commanding, "And take an extra horse for her. She will need it."

Elros paused briefly, nodding once more. "It will be done, my lord," he said before stepping through the great doors, Thalion and Mírdan close behind him.

Thranduil remained seated, his gaze fixed on the doors long after they had closed. His mind lingered on Xena's determination, her reckless defiance, and the loyalty she inspired in those around her. He did not trust her entirely, not yet, but he could not ignore the strength she had shown.

Perhaps you will prove me wrong, mortal, he thought, his hand absently brushing the faint cut on his cheek. But if you do not, it will not be for lack of effort on my part—or yours.

As the heavy doors of the throne room closed behind Elros, Thalion, and Mírdan, a silence settled over the chamber. Thranduil remained seated, his gaze distant, though his sharp features betrayed a mind already at work. Tauriel and Haldir stood nearby, waiting. Tauriel's green eyes lingered on the Elvenking, her thoughts turning over what had just transpired.

At last, Tauriel broke the silence. "You knew she would escape," she said, her voice steady but tinged with curiosity. "You anticipated this, didn't you?"

Thranduil turned his gaze to her, a faint, knowing smirk gracing his lips. He didn't answer directly, but his expression was confirmation enough. Tauriel had seen this before—Thranduil's ability to plan for possibilities others might dismiss.

"You placed her in the dungeons not because you thought she would stay," Tauriel continued, piecing together the truth, "but because she overstepped her bounds. You upheld the law, but you didn't truly intend to keep her there."

"Observant, as always," Thranduil said, his tone light yet deliberate. He rose from his throne, his silver robes cascading like water as he descended the steps. "Her escape was inevitable. I would have been more surprised if she hadn't found her way out."

Haldir, who had remained silent until now, spoke with measured calm. "And now you send your most trusted men to aid her. It seems you had no desire to imprison her at all."

Thranduil glanced at Haldir, his expression unreadable. "Xena came seeking aid for Legolas. Though her methods were impulsive, her intentions are clear. I could not allow her recklessness to jeopardize herself—or others—without ensuring her survival. Sending Elros and the others ensures she will not be alone in her folly."

Tauriel's brows furrowed, though her voice remained respectful. "Then why not aid her directly from the beginning, my lord? Why let her escape, only to send your men after her?"

Thranduil paused, his hand resting lightly on the back of his throne as he considered her question. "Because the laws of this realm must be upheld. She challenged my authority, and for that, she was imprisoned. But even as king, I know when to bend the branches without breaking them. Her escape gave me the excuse I needed to act without further diminishing her pride—or mine."

Tauriel studied him for a moment, then nodded. "And now? What will you do?"

Thranduil's smirk faded, replaced by a look of cold determination. "We ride," he said simply.

Tauriel's eyes widened slightly. "Ride? You mean... just the three of us?"

"Yes," Thranduil said, his tone leaving no room for argument. He turned to Haldir, his gaze sharp. "Will you join us, Lord of Lothlórien? Your skill would be an asset in what is to come."

Haldir inclined his head without hesitation. "I will ride with you, my lord. Alakar is no enemy to take lightly, and I trust your judgment in this matter."

Thranduil nodded, satisfied, and turned back to Tauriel. "We will track Xena and the others. Alakar will already be aware of her presence in my realm, and I would not be surprised if he finds her before we do. She will need every bit of aid we can provide."

Tauriel hesitated, her mind racing with the implications. "Riding out alone is dangerous, my lord. Alakar may have no great army left, but his strength lies not in numbers. He is a master of the dark arts. Even the best of us would struggle against him."

Thranduil's gaze grew colder, sharper. "Which is precisely why we must face him with few, but skilled, warriors. To send an army would be folly—Alakar would twist such a force to his advantage. No, a small, precise group will find him and deal with him before he has a chance to act."

Tauriel nodded slowly, though her concern remained evident. "I trust your judgment, my lord. But I fear Xena may already be walking into his hands."

Thranduil's lips pressed into a thin line. "Then we will find her before he does," he said, his voice firm. "Gather what you need quickly. We leave at first light."

As Tauriel and Haldir bowed and turned to prepare, Thranduil remained in the throne room for a moment longer, his thoughts on the looming shadow of Alakar. He had delayed action long enough, hoping the darkness could be rooted out without risking too much. Now, it was clear that time was a luxury he could no longer afford.

He strode toward the doors, his steps resolute. "This ends now," he murmured to himself, the memory of his wife's light and Legolas's torment driving him forward.

((Upcoming Chapter One-Hundred-Fifteen))

Thank you for taking the time to read this! Feel free to Review - Follow - Favorite!