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

Foes

Chapter 18: Bitter Truths

Woodland Realm, July 3018 T.A.

It was as if he had gone back to where it happened. The memories were as vivid as the day they were forged. Legolas wanted to strip the power from these painful recollections, to prove to himself that he could move on. He knew how to forgive himself, and he was certain his mother would never blame him. But that did not change the fact that his actions had led to his mother's loss, and in the end, she had been killed by his hand.

Tonight, the memory was vivid, not in his dreams, but as he was awake in the camp. They had camped in a hidden, safe space along the old forest road. The group had faced too much lately, and a little rest, a chance to clean up and gather their thoughts and energy, was desperately needed. However, their last encounter had brought everyone to a darker place.

Legolas wished he could simply set his mind to forget, to act as though it did not bother him. But it did. The recent enchantment had resurfaced his deepest fears and regrets, and tonight it was clear that everything he had faced had affected him profoundly.

The camp was nestled in a small clearing, surrounded by ancient trees whose twisted branches formed a protective canopy overhead. The ground was covered in a thick layer of moss and fallen leaves, muffling their footsteps and providing a soft bed for rest. The air was cool and still, the usual sounds of the forest conspicuously absent, replaced by an eerie silence that pressed down on them.

Small, flickering flames of their campfire cast long shadows on their faces, illuminating their weary expressions. The firelight reflected off Legolas's pale, determined face, highlighting the tension in his jaw and the depth of sorrow in his eyes. He preferred isolation, distancing himself from the others as he tended to the horses. He found a space where they could eat and drink, whispering a few encouraging words to the tired animals.

Legolas spent a few more moments with the horses, their soft, understanding eyes reflecting his turmoil. He knew that the darkness they faced affected the horses as well. Stroking their manes, he whispered to them in Elvish, his voice a soothing melody in the oppressive silence of the forest.

"Hold on, my friends," he murmured. "Just a few more days, and we will leave this darkness behind. Soon, we will find open skies, breathe fresh air, and take care of you as you deserve."

Despite his efforts to remain stoic, the weight of his past bore down on him heavily tonight. He retreated to a large, fallen log at the edge of the camp, sitting alone with his thoughts. His bow rested across his lap, a silent reminder of his duty and his burden. His mind replayed the events of that fateful day, the day he had lost his mother and ultimately had to end her suffering.

The memory was like a wound that refused to heal, a constant reminder of his perceived failure. He remembered her face, twisted in pain, and her voice, filled with love and sorrow. Her final words to him, a mixture of forgiveness and farewell, echoed in his mind.

Legolas knew he had to confront this pain, to face it head-on if he was ever to move past it. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and allowing the memory to wash over him. He saw the scene unfold as clearly as if it were happening again: the dark, twisted forest, the battle with the orcs, and his mother, her life slipping away as she protected him.

Tears welled up in Legolas's eyes, but he did not let them fall. He knew that carrying this guilt would not bring her back, nor would it change the past. He had to honor her memory by living, by protecting those he loved, and continuing the fight against the darkness. But even beyond that knowledge, the guild remained.

The rest of the company had settled into a restless silence, each warrior and wanderer burdened by their own ghosts. Xena's eyes, sharp and piercing, scanned the perimeter. Her instincts, honed from years of warfare and survival, told her that while the physical threats of the forest were subdued for now, the psychological ones were at their peak.

She approached Legolas, who sat as still as a statue, his eyes reflecting the torment of his past. The elf was lost in memories, reliving the day he had inadvertently caused his mother's death—a day that had stripped him of joy and left him a husk of his former self. His grip on his bow was not just physical; it was an anchor to the present, preventing him from being completely swallowed by his grief.

Xena understood this kind of pain. She had walked the path of redemption, haunted by the blood of innocents she had once spilled. Her past was a shadow that never left her side, whispering of her darkest deeds and reminding her of the beast she could become. Each step she took toward the camp felt heavier as if the memories themselves were trying to drag her back into the abyss.

Xena's own thoughts drifted to Gabrielle, the friend she had lost. The pain of her absence was a constant ache, a reminder of the cost of her past actions. But Xena knew that wallowing in regret would not honor Gabrielle's memory. She had to keep moving forward, to continue fighting for redemption, even if it meant facing an endless series of battles both external and internal.

The night was thick with tension, the oppressive silence of the forest amplifying the unspoken animosities between Xena and Legolas. The air was heavy with unvoiced words and simmering resentments. Legolas, still reeling from his vivid memories, sat rigidly on a fallen log, his bow resting across his lap. His thoughts were a chaotic swirl of guilt and grief, his mother's final moments replaying in his mind like a relentless nightmare. He stared into the forest, the turmoil in his eyes reflecting the darkness around them.

Xena, her own mind a battlefield of regret and unresolved anger, moved deliberately toward the same log. She sat down next to Legolas, the proximity only serving to heighten the already palpable tension. Her presence was like a spark in a powder keg, and it didn't take long for the inevitable explosion.

He had not noticed her approach through the night, nor did he notice her taking a seat a few steps away from him. When he did, Legolas was the first to break the silence, his voice cutting through the night like a blade. "Why are you here, Xena? Shouldn't you be off by yourself somewhere else?"

Xena's eyes flashed with anger, her hands clenching into fists. "I could ask you the same thing, Elf. Hiding behind your own guilt, aren't you?" She could not know the full extent of Legolas's burden, but she had sensed his struggle through their recent encounters. Everyone in their company had deep wounds to face.

His jaw tightened, and he turned to face her, his expression hard. "We're both haunted, Human, but at least I own up to my mistakes." His eyes glared at her like an enemy's, deadly and unyielding. His weary demeanor, his dust-covered attire, and the visible wound on his arm all showed he had been through his own personal hell, but bitterness and anger burned fiercely within him.

Compared to Legolas, Xena was in a worse state. Her attire was ripped, and stained with blood and mud. Her hair was a tangled mess, far from the perfection of the elves. "Own up to your mistakes?" she scoffed, her tone dripping with bitterness. "You hide behind them. You let them define you. I've seen the way you distance yourself from everyone, acting like you're the only one who's suffered. Newsflash, elf, you're not special in your pain."

Legolas's eyes narrowed, his grip on his bow tightening. "And what about you, warrior? Do you think parading around keeping your secrets makes you strong? You're fooling yourself."

Xena's face twisted in a bitter smile. "At least I'm doing something about it. What are you doing? Sitting here, wallowing in self-pity, pretending that your past is the only thing that matters."

"Don't you dare judge me," Legolas hissed, his voice low and dangerous. "You don't know what it's like to be responsible for the death of someone you love. You don't know what it's like to see their face every time you close your eyes."

There was a small pause between them, with Xena not expecting Legolas to share such a personal thought, and Legolas not believing he had spoken his thoughts aloud. Though he didn't reveal it was his mother, he still exposed a deeply personal pain.

Xena's laugh was cold and mirthless. "Oh, I know all too well. I've seen the faces of every person I've killed, every innocent life I've taken. They haunt me, Elf. I don't know who haunts you, but at least I'm trying to make a difference, not letting it fully swallow me."

"Trying to make a difference?" Legolas shot back, his voice rising. "You think your actions now will somehow make up for all the pain you've caused? You're deluding yourself."

"You don't know anything about me, elf! And you're a coward," Xena spat, her eyes blazing. "A coward who hides behind his past because it's easier than facing the present. You think your guilt makes you noble, but it just makes you weak."

Legolas stood up abruptly, his bow clattering to the ground. "And you think that not facing your guilt makes you strong? You're nothing but a hypocrite, Human. You preach about redemption, but you don't even believe in it for yourself. You're as trapped by your past as I am by mine."

The silence between them grew intense, the heat of their argument rising. They stood there, glaring at each other, their words hanging in the air like a bitter aftertaste. Legolas's words reached both of them, a bitter truth that neither could ignore.

"Perhaps we're both trapped," Xena finally said, her voice quieter but no less intense.

Legolas took a deep breath, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Maybe you're right."

Xena's gaze softened if only a fraction. "Maybe."

In the end, they ended the argument because they realized they were both dealing with their own demons, both trapped in their own wrongdoings. That realization was heavier than their will to fight. They still did not like each other, they still did not trust each other, but they knew one thing: both were telling the truth. That was enough to make them step back, return to the camp, and remain lost in their memories.

As they returned to the camp, the oppressive silence of the forest seemed to lift slightly, if only for a moment. Lost in their own memories, neither Xena nor Legolas spoke that night, though the other three did. Thalion, Elros, and Mírdan gathered around the small fire, the flickering flames casting long shadows on their faces. The three elves spoke in hushed tones, sharing the burdens of their own darkness. Their voices carried a mix of sorrow and resilience, each word a step towards healing.

Thalion was the first to break the silence. "I lost my brother in a raid many centuries ago," he began, his voice heavy with emotion. "I've blamed myself every day since. If only I had been quicker, stronger... perhaps he would still be here."

Elros nodded sympathetically. "I know that feeling all too well. My sister fell ill, and I was away, patrolling the borders. By the time I returned, it was too late. I've carried that guilt with me ever since."

Mírdan, usually the cheerful one, spoke next. "My best friend died saving my life. I see his face every night when I close my eyes. It haunts me, knowing that he sacrificed himself for me."

The openness of their companions contrasted sharply with the silence of Xena and Legolas. Thalion, Elros, and Mírdan allowed themselves a moment of weakness, a moment to admit their pain and show how healing was happening. They spoke of the small steps they took each day to move forward, the support they found in each other, and the hope they held onto despite their pasts.

Xena and Legolas, however, remained silent, still trapped in their own abyss. They listened to their companions but kept their own struggles close to their hearts. Pride and stubbornness kept them from voicing their pain, from seeking the solace that the others found in sharing their burdens.

Legolas' thoughts were a chaotic swirl, replaying the final moments of his mother's life. The guilt weighed heavily on him, a constant reminder of his perceived failure. He could not bring himself to share this with his companions, not even with Xena, who sat nearby.

Xena, too, was lost in her thoughts. The faces of those she had killed, the innocents who had suffered because of her, haunted her every moment. She had chosen isolation for so long that the idea of opening up, of sharing her pain, seemed impossible. She clenched her fists, the rough fabric of her torn gown a stark contrast to the smooth skin of her hands. Her pride kept her silent, even as she listened to the others speak of their own healing.

The night wore on, and the fire crackled softly, providing a small beacon of warmth and light in the otherwise dark and foreboding forest. The words of Thalion, Elros, and Mírdan hung in the air, a testament to their shared struggles and their journey towards healing.

Xena and Legolas, however, remained in their own isolation, their pride their only companion. They had chosen this path for so long that they did not know how to face their pain differently. The realization that their companions were finding solace in each other made their own isolation feel even more profound.

((Upcoming Chapter Nineteen))

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