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

Frenemies

Chapter 27: Echoes of Healing

Outskirts of Lothlórien, August 1st 3018 T.A.

Peaceful was the night of the first day of August. The safety and calmness of Lothlórien had performed its miracle. The company was under the protection of the Lady of Lórien, Galadriel, who wielded Nenya, the Ring of Water, safeguarding her realm and everyone within it. The tranquility of Lothlórien enveloped them, yet the Prince of Mirkwood did not partake in this peace. It wasn't due to ignorance of his surroundings; Legolas knew well where they were and would, under different circumstances, have welcomed a few days under Galadriel's blessings, hoping to find some solace.

But tonight, no peace came to the prince. His usual nightmares didn't visit him, for he was awake, sitting beside the human he disliked. The same human who got on his nerves—the prideful, full-of-herself warrior with whom he constantly argued and fought. And it was the same human who had thrown herself between him and the blow meant for him.

A few nights ago, she had told him she didn't trust him, just as he didn't trust her. She had declared her dislike for him, finding him irritating. Yet, her actions contradicted her words. She had not hesitated to save him. Not that Legolas needed saving—he could have dodged the blow or, if it had struck, borne the burden himself. It was not her place to take such a risk for him.

What angered him more than her reckless and selfish action was the knowledge that she would do it again without hesitation. Her behavior confused him. Xena was prideful and stubborn, confident in her powers and skills, and fully aware of her flaws. Such a self-centered character shouldn't take so many risks for someone she didn't even like.

Now she lay pale as a night star, her life force drained by the wound inflicted by a Morgul-blade. The healers had done their best, and despite the darkness trying to consume her, Xena held on. She should have succumbed already, but she hadn't. The healers were baffled, sensing she was no stranger to darkness.

Legolas understood their silence, refraining from speaking ill of one of the prince's company. It was evident to them that Xena had her own connection with the dark side. Legolas recalled her mentioning it before—not in detail, but enough for him to know she had faced such shadows before.

This revelation might have shocked the healers, Rúmil, and even Elros. But for Legolas, it brought a sense of gratitude. If her dark past helped her survive today, so be it. He, too, was no stranger to darkness. He remembered all too well that it was his fault his mother was taken, turned into a monster he eventually had to kill. He had no right to judge Xena.

As Legolas sat there, watching over her, he contemplated the enigma that was Xena. He found it difficult to reconcile her fierce independence with her selfless act. Despite their differences and constant clashes, there was a bond forming, born from mutual respect and shared adversity.

Legolas sat a little further away, leaning against the trunk of a massive mallorn tree, his legs crossed and his gaze fixed on Xena. The night had deepened, and the healers had ceased their visits. The camp was quiet, its inhabitants either asleep or resting. Legolas closed his eyes, but he did not sleep. He waited, anxious to see what the night would bring.

Xena was aware of her breathing, aware of lying on a bed. But her consciousness was embroiled in a battle, a battle against an unknown darkness. It was as if, through this darkness, she saw a strange light, a bright eye far away, calling to her. It called not because of her dark past, nor because of her identity, but because she had been injured by the Morgul-blade.

For any other person, the path would be straightforward: cut by the blade, the dust would spread, and they would become a wraith like the Nazgûl. But Xena was different. She fought against it, refusing to succumb. She didn't care about the pain, the darkness, or the strength it took from her. She would not yield to the pull that sought to claim what was left of her.

In her dream state, she found herself running towards the light, even as she tried to avoid it. The brightness burned, not from the cut, but from the dust coursing through her veins. She gasped for breath, struggling against the encroaching darkness. She was losing herself, her mind, as she followed the path meant for those injured by a Morgul-blade.

The healing herbs and powers provided by the healers formed the first barrier. It didn't make the journey to the light impossible, but it made it harder. It delayed the inevitable. In the distance, she heard a haunting voice calling her, not by name, but beckoning her onward. It told her that her journey had already come to an end.

As she neared the light, ready to surrender, she felt a warm hand clasp hers, calling her back. It was a tangible connection, urging her to return. She couldn't let the annoying elf remain unchallenged, couldn't leave without giving him more of her opinions, fighting him, and telling him once more how wrong he was.

Xena fought through the nightmare, the dark visions pressing in on her. She saw ghostly figures reaching out, their hollow eyes void of life, their cold hands grasping for her. The light ahead was harsh, unforgiving, and it promised an eternity of torment. She screamed, but no sound came out, as if the very air had been stolen from her lungs.

She felt the dust spreading through her body, a cold fire consuming her from within. Her veins felt like they were filled with ice, her muscles stiff and unyielding. The darkness whispered lies, telling her to give in, to accept her fate. Shadows danced around her, forming grotesque shapes that tried to pull her closer to the light.

But she fought back, summoning every ounce of strength she had left. She remembered the faces of those she had saved, the battles she had won, and the friends she had fought beside. She thought of Gabrielle, her trusted friend who always kept her grounded. And she thought of Legolas, the elf who irritated her to no end, yet who she respected deeply. She would not leave him without a fight.

The warm hand gripping hers became more real, more insistent. She felt the connection strengthen, pulling her away from the darkness. She stumbled, falling to her knees, but she did not let go. She dug her fingers into the earth, anchoring herself, refusing to be dragged into the abyss.

The light began to fade, the haunting voices growing fainter. She could feel the warmth of the healing herbs battling the cold of the Morgul-dust. The pain was still there, searing through her, but it was no longer an all-consuming fire. It became a dull ache, a reminder of the battle she had fought and was still fighting.

Xena took a deep breath, the darkness receding, her vision clearing. She saw Legolas's face above her, his eyes filled with worry and determination. She could hear his voice, soft and soothing, speaking in Elvish, offering prayers and comfort.

"Stay with me, Xena," he whispered, his hand never leaving hers. "Fight. I know you can."

With a final surge of willpower, Xena forced herself back from the brink. She would not become a wraith, she would not give in. She would fight, for herself, for her friends, and for the annoying elf who had become an unexpected ally.

The darkness ebbed away, leaving her exhausted but alive. She was not fully healed, the process merely delayed. The battle was far from over, but she had won this round. She felt the warmth of Legolas's hand, a lifeline that anchored her to the world of the living.

As dawn approached, Xena opened her eyes, her grip on Legolas's hand tightening. She looked up at him, her gaze filled with determination and defiance. She had fought the darkness and returned, and she would continue to fight, no matter the cost.

Legolas's relief was palpable. He brushed her hair away from her face, his touch gentle. "Rest now, Xena."

She nodded, her eyelids heavy. For the first time in days, she felt a glimmer of hope. She closed her eyes, letting the exhaustion take over, knowing that when she woke, she would be ready to face whatever came next.

As dawn broke, casting a soft light over the forest, the camp began to stir. The golden hues of Lothlórien painted the scene with an ethereal beauty, and the air was filled with a sense of tranquility. Legolas remained by Xena's side, his watchful eyes never leaving her pale face. The rest of the company, roused from their rest, gathered quietly around, concern etched on their faces.

Elros approached Legolas, his expression serious. "How is she?" he asked softly, not wanting to disturb the fragile peace.

"She is holding on," Legolas replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "The healers did what they could, but the rest is up to her. We need to get her to Lord Elrond as soon as possible."

Elros nodded, understanding the urgency. "We will leave as soon as she can travel."

Rúmil and the other elves of Lothlórien had already begun preparations for their journey. They provided fresh supplies, healing herbs, and a guide to ensure their safe passage through the forest. Galadriel herself had sent word that the company was to be given every assistance.

By mid-morning, Xena had regained some of her strength. She was still weak, but the color had returned to her cheeks, and her eyes were more focused. Legolas helped her sit up, offering her some water and a few bites of food.

"You need to eat," he insisted gently, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Xena took the food reluctantly, her movements slow and deliberate. "I'm fine, elf," she muttered, though her voice lacked its usual fire.

Legolas smirked, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. "You don't sound fine."

She glared at him but couldn't suppress a faint smile. "I'll be back on my feet soon enough. Just you wait."

"Of that, I have no doubt," Legolas replied, his tone softening. "But until then, you need to regain your strength."

The company set out by noon, moving at a careful pace to accommodate Xena's condition. Legolas rode beside her, ensuring she was secure on her horse. The guide from Lothlórien led them through the forest, the path shaded by the tall, golden-leaved trees that whispered secrets of the ancient realm.

The journey was uneventful, the serene beauty of Lothlórien providing a stark contrast to the danger they had faced. Xena's strength gradually returned, though she remained haunted by the darkness that had nearly claimed her. Legolas kept a watchful eye on her, ready to support her if needed.

As they rode, Legolas and Xena found moments to talk, their conversations gradually easing the tension between them. Legolas spoke of his homeland, the Woodland Realm. Xena, in turn, shared tales of her past adventures and battles, though she kept the darker parts of her history vague.

Their bond, forged in the crucible of battle and adversity, grew stronger with each passing day. The company moved with a renewed sense of purpose, determined to reach Rivendell and ensure Xena's full recovery.

After several days, they emerged from the forest, the towering peaks of the Misty Mountains visible in the distance. The path ahead would be challenging, but they were ready to face whatever lay in their way.

One evening, as they camped near the foothills of the mountains, Xena sat by the fire, her strength mostly returned. Legolas joined her, sitting quietly beside her. The crackling of the fire provided a soothing backdrop to their thoughts.

"Thank you," Xena said suddenly, breaking the silence.

Legolas looked at her, surprised. "For what?"

"For staying with me. For not giving up on me," she replied, her gaze steady.

Legolas nodded, a soft smile on his lips. "We are a team, Xena. We fight together, and we look out for each other. You would do the same for any of us."

"Still, thank you," she said, her voice sincere.

They sat in companionable silence, the fire casting flickering shadows around them. The journey to Rivendell was far from over, but they faced it with newfound strength and a deepened bond. Together, they would overcome any obstacle, and they would ensure that Xena's light would not be extinguished by the darkness that sought to claim her.

Having managed to pass through the forest of Lothlórien, the company resumed their usual pace. Xena, though not fully recovered, coped with the lingering effects of her injury. The dynamics within the group had shifted subtly. While the arguments and disagreements persisted, a foundation of trust had started to form. The others began to see Xena as a valuable member of their company, and Xena, in turn, felt a growing sense of camaraderie. She hadn't heard the full story, but from what the guide had mentioned, she knew it was because of Legolas that she received such swift and thorough care from the healers.

What she had yet to discover was that Legolas was the prince of Mirkwood. His status had granted them passage through Lothlórien, special treatment for healing, and a guide to ensure their safe journey out of the forest. They were also provided with food and clothing. Since Xena's attire had been damaged, Legolas brought her clean leggings and a tunic given by the elves of Lothlórien.

When Xena found out that Legolas was the one who had ripped her only remaining shirt, she was not pleased. Her reaction was swift. "You owe me a new outfit," she declared as they rode side by side.

Legolas raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Do I now?"

"Yes, you do. You ripped my shirt," Xena said, her tone firm. "In the next town or village we pass, you're paying for my new attire."

Legolas sighed dramatically. "Very well, I suppose I owe you that much."

Xena was momentarily taken aback by his quick agreement. "You're not going to argue?" she asked, her tone tinged with suspicion.

Legolas shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. "What's the point? You have a valid claim. Besides, it's only fair."

Xena narrowed her eyes at him. "You're taking this far too well. I expected more resistance from you."

Legolas chuckled. "Perhaps I'm learning that some battles are not worth fighting. Especially when it comes to you."

Xena shook her head in mock disappointment. "You've gone soft, elf."

Legolas's smile widened. "Or perhaps I'm just being practical. A content warrior is a more effective warrior, after all."

Xena couldn't help but laugh. "You know, Legolas, you're not as insufferable as I first thought."

"High praise coming from you," Legolas replied with a smirk. "But remember, this is just for the attire. Don't get any ideas about making a habit of this."

"Oh, I won't. But you're still paying," Xena insisted, enjoying the banter.

"As you wish," Legolas said with a mock bow. "Anything to keep the peace."

They continued riding, the tension between them replaced by a newfound understanding. The playful exchange lightened the mood, and for a moment, they forgot the dangers that lay ahead. She and Legolas might never fully see eye to eye, but they had found a way to coexist. And in this strange, dangerous world, that was more than enough.

((Upcoming Chapter Twenty - Eight))

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