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 28: Warrior... Prince?

Field of Celebrant, August 2nd 3018 T.A.

They had ridden south along the River Anduin for a day after their guide had brought them through the outskirts of Lothlórien, with a few short breaks that the elf always recommended. Although it seemed that everything had returned to the usual balance between the company, there was still an alertness lingering among them. The source of this unease was Xena.

She had recovered faster than Legolas expected for a human. He surely did not know that she was immortal, which might have affected her healing process. Her unusual ability to heal quickly and move along despite her injuries left him puzzled. Whatever the reason, she looked better, though no less annoyed.

The clothes given by the elves, although clean and practical, were made from unique fabric that she had not chosen. At least she was not riding naked, but the attire did her no favors. She missed her old armor, and until now, Harad had not provided the right opportunity to have it crafted. She started thinking that perhaps along the way to Rivendell, or even in Rivendell itself, she might manage to have something similar made for her.

As they rode, Xena occasionally caught glimpses of her reflection in the river's surface, the elven clothes contrasting sharply with her rugged demeanor. Legolas noticed her discomfort and couldn't resist commenting.

"Something wrong with your attire, Xena?" he asked, his tone teasing but with genuine curiosity.

Xena shot him a glare. "It's not what I would choose for myself, that's all. I'm not used to wearing something so... elvish."

Legolas chuckled. "The elves do have a particular style. But it suits you."

"I'd prefer my old armor," she muttered. "At least it felt like me."

Legolas nodded. "We'll find you something more suitable once we reach Rivendell. Elrond's craftsmen are skilled; they can create armor to your specifications."

Xena raised an eyebrow. "You think they can make something that fits my needs?"

"I have no doubt," Legolas replied confidently. "Rivendell is home to some of the finest craftsmen in Middle-earth."

They rode in silence for a while, the sound of hooves and the gentle murmur of the river providing a soothing background. The landscape around them was lush and green, the air fresh with the scent of the river.

Elros rode up beside them, his eyes scanning the horizon. "We should find a place to camp soon. It's not wise to push too hard, especially after what we've been through."

Legolas nodded in agreement. "There's a clearing up ahead that would be suitable. We can set up camp there for the night."

The company moved towards the clearing, and soon they were setting up their makeshift camp. Thalion and Mírdan gathered firewood, while Elros checked their supplies. Xena helped with setting up the bedding her movements still slightly stiff but determined.

As the sun began to set, casting a golden hue over the landscape, they gathered around the campfire. The warmth of the flames and the soft crackling of the wood created a comforting atmosphere.

Legolas sat next to Xena, handing her lembas bread. "Here, eat. You need to keep your strength up."

Xena accepted it with a nod.

They ate in silence for a while, the camaraderie among the group growing stronger with each passing day. The trust that had begun to form was now more evident, and even the arguments and teasing had taken on a lighter, more familiar tone.

As the night grew darker and the stars began to appear, Xena looked up at the sky, her thoughts drifting to her old armor and the battles she had fought. She glanced at Legolas, who was quietly watching the fire. The elf seemed deep in thought, the events of the previous days settling slowly with him. Until now, he had not fully addressed the issue. But tonight, something prompted him to ask more questions than he normally would.

"Xena," he began, his tone calm and measured, his face unreadable. "Do you always leap into danger without considering the consequences?"

Xena tilted her head, still nibbling on the lembas bread that had been given to her earlier. "You were in danger, Legolas. I helped you. There was nothing to think about."

Legolas's expression remained neutral, though his eyes were keen. "I see. But do you not weigh the risks to yourself? It seems to me that your actions, though brave, often place you in grave peril. Is this a habit you have always had?"

Xena looked thoughtful for a moment. "I've always thought before acting, but when it comes to helping someone, especially if they're in immediate danger, I act. It's something I've done since I turned away from my darker path. It's part of atoning for the lives I've taken and the wrongs I've committed."

Legolas gazed at the fire a little longer, the sparks lighting his face as he seemed to space out, though he was still engaged in their conversation. "You could have been killed or worse. While helping others is commendable, you must consider your own safety as well. Your life is not something to be thrown away lightly."

Xena looked at him, a slight smile playing on her lips. "I don't have a death wish, Legolas. I love being alive, and I love fighting. Preventing you from getting harmed was just what happened. Don't think you're special. It could have been anyone."

Legolas lifted his gaze, his piercing eyes meeting hers. "I do not like it," he said, his voice firm. "I do not like to see you in danger on my behalf."

His words hung in the air, more command than a statement. Then, with his cold, unreadable expression, he stood up and stepped away from the camp, seeking his usual solitude to sleep and confront his nightmares once more.

Xena watched him go, her mind swirling with thoughts. Despite his words, she knew he was right. She would have to be more cautious in the future. But she also knew that when it came to protecting others, she would always act, no matter the cost. It was who she was, and that was something even the annoying elf would have to accept.

Of course, accepting it would not come easily. Legolas could take care of himself; he did not need a human to save him. At least, that was what his prideful part told him. He was thankful that Xena had saved him, but it hurt his pride to have a mortal put herself in great danger on his behalf. Those thoughts lingered a little longer as he reached the riverbank and took a seat against a large, grey rock.

The rock was ancient and weathered, its surface smooth and cool to the touch. Moss clung to its base, and intricate patterns of lichen spread across its surface like delicate, natural tattoos. The edges of the rock were rounded from centuries of erosion, and a small crevice near the top collected rainwater, forming a tiny, reflective pool. In the moonlight, the rock took on a silvery sheen, blending seamlessly with the tranquil surroundings.

Legolas slowly recalled what Xena had told him. She had mentioned before that she was atoning for the wrongs she had done and the lives she had taken. She had turned away from her darker path. He soon connected this to what the healers had said: the reason the Morgul-blade did not have a full effect on her was because she had darkness inside her; she was not innocent.

Legolas gazed at the dim riverbank, more questions slowly rising about the human. He knew a few things about her from their recent conversations. When they were in Mirkwood, they were not on speaking terms, so he had not fully discovered her story. Now, he found himself increasingly interested in knowing more about the human with the dark past, who was now on a journey of atonement.

He leaned against the rock, his gaze shifting to the night sky above him. Stars twinkled like scattered diamonds, and the gentle rustling of leaves and the soft murmur of the river provided a serene soundtrack to his thoughts. It was not long before sleep claimed him.

Legolas hoped his dreams would be as peaceful as the summer night, but they were not. It did not take long for his nightmares to sink in and call to him. As every night, he stood there and answered for his own wrongdoings. He did not escape; he never wished to. He stepped into the nightmare, knowing he would be there until he woke up. It was his way of paying for the one life he once took, the one life that would not be forgotten.

In the realm of his nightmares, he saw the face of his mother, twisted in pain and fury, a victim of the darkness that had claimed her. Her eyes, once filled with love, now bore a haunting emptiness. The scene replayed endlessly: her fall, his desperate attempts to find her, and the moment he killed her. The weight of her loss and the burden of his guilt pressed down on him, a constant reminder of his failure.

Legolas stood firm, as he always did, facing the torment head-on. He knew this was his penance, the price he paid for the life he had taken. The echoes of his mother's voice, the accusing stares of those he had failed, and the unrelenting darkness surrounded him. Yet, amidst the despair, there was a resolve. He would endure this, as he had every night, and he would rise again, carrying the weight of his past with a determination to make amends.

As the night wore on, the nightmares ebbed and flowed, each wave bringing a fresh surge of pain and regret. Yet, even in his darkest moments, Legolas found strength in his resolve. He would protect those he cared for, he would fight against the darkness, and he would continue his journey of redemption, no matter how long it took.

When dawn broke, the first light of day casting a golden hue over the landscape, Legolas awoke with a start. The nightmares had receded, leaving him drained but resolute. He stood up, brushed the dirt from his clothes, and took a deep breath of the crisp morning air. The camp was beginning to stir, and he knew it was time to continue their journey. With renewed determination, he walked back towards the camp, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

Xena watched as Legolas returned to camp, gathering his belongings with practiced efficiency. She took a long moment to observe the elf. There was something in his demeanor that showed a weariness she had not noticed until now. Perhaps their mutual pride had blinded her to it, or perhaps their constant arguing had kept her from seeing it. But this morning, for the first time, she questioned why he always chose to sleep away from the rest of the company.

She didn't ask him. It was a fleeting thought before everyone began packing up the camp, preparing to continue their journey.

The camp was a flurry of activity as they packed their belongings. Thalion and Mírdan gathered the remaining supplies and extinguished the campfire, while Elros ensured that their horses were ready for the day's ride. Xena rolled up her bedding, her movements slow but steady, still feeling the effects of her recent injury. Legolas, his face a mask of calm determination, helped secure the packs onto the horses.

The morning air was cool and crisp, the sun casting a golden glow over the lush green landscape. The sound of the river provided a soothing backdrop as they prepared to move on.

"Are we ready?" Elros asked, mounting his horse and looking around at the company.

"Aye, let's get moving," Legolas replied, his voice steady.

They rode south along the River Anduin, the open fields stretching out before them. As they approached the Field of Celebrant, Elros began to share the history of the place, his voice carrying easily in the quiet morning air.

"The Battle of the Field of Celebrant is a significant part of our history," Elros began. "The ancestors of the Rohirrim were called to aid Gondor when they were attacked by the Balchoth. The Balchoth frequently raided the eastern side of Anduin until the people there had to leave. Cirion, the Steward of Gondor, learned from his spies that the Balchoth were gathering a great army to attack the province of Calenardhon on the west side of the river. He knew the defense there was too weak to repel an attack."

Thalion added, "Cirion prepared to lead an army to Calenardhon and sent six riders to ask for help. The riders went through the Balchoth army, and five perished. Only one named Borondir made it to the land of Éothéod and delivered his message."

"Eorl the Young," Elros continued, "realized that if Gondor fell, his people might also fall. So he led 7000 riders and hundreds of mounted archers on the 500-mile journey to Calenardhon."

Xena listened intently, her curiosity piqued. "How did the battle unfold?"

Thalion answered, "The Balchoth had built many boats on the side of Anduin at the Undeeps of Calenardhon and crossed the river with superior numbers, overcoming the fortresses on the west bank easily. Cirion's reinforcements were cut off and driven north over the Limlight to the Field of Celebrant. Then a host of Orcs attacked Cirion's forces, driving them to Anduin."

Legolas took up the tale. "When the situation looked bleak for Gondor, the Éothéod arrived. They crossed the Undeeps into Calenardhon and then over to the Limlight, attacking the Balchoth and the Orcs from the rear. The combined forces of Gondor and the Éothéod drove the Balchoth across the Limlight and slew the invaders until Calenardhon was free."

Xena nodded, impressed. "So the Rohirrim and Gondor forged an alliance then?"

"Yes," Legolas replied. "Soon after the battle, the nearly deserted province of Calenardhon was gifted to the Éothéod by Cirion and was renamed Rohan. Eorl and Cirion swore a perpetual oath to aid each other in future times of need."

The company rode in silence for a while, each reflecting on the history they had just discussed. The sun was now higher in the sky, casting long shadows over the landscape. The fields were lush and green, dotted with wildflowers that swayed gently in the breeze.

Elros rode in the middle, his eyes scanning the horizon. "This place holds many memories," he said softly. "The sacrifices made here should never be forgotten."

Xena glanced at Legolas, noticing the thoughtful expression on his face. "It's a reminder of the strength that can come from alliances," she said.

Legolas nodded. "Indeed. And a reminder of the importance of unity in the face of darkness."

As they continued their journey, the company felt a renewed sense of purpose. They were not just traveling through Middle-earth; they were part of its history, its ongoing story. And each step they took brought them closer to their own destinies, intertwined with the land and its people.

After a few hours of riding and consuming more lembas bread, the company gradually approached a small town nestled along the Field of Celebrant. This town was one of the few in the region that had flourished with a mix of cultures and peoples. It was a melting pot where not only the Rohirrim resided, but also individuals from distant lands like Harad, Umbar, and even some dwarves.

As the town came into view, Xena spurred her horse into a faster trot, eager to reach her destination. The prospect of eating something other than plant-based meals and lembas bread made her stomach rumble with anticipation. The thought of acquiring a better attire, even if it was not her final choice, and the idea of sleeping in an inn filled her with a rare sense of excitement.

The town was a bustling hub of activity, a far cry from the serene elven realms. It was a place filled with diversity and a hint of danger, something that seemed to put the elves on edge but felt strangely familiar and comforting to Xena.

The streets were narrow and winding, lined with a hodgepodge of buildings that ranged from wooden cottages to stone structures. Market stalls spilled out into the streets, their colorful awnings flapping in the breeze. Merchants hawked their wares, from exotic spices and silks to rough-hewn weapons and sturdy leather goods. The air was thick with the mingling scents of cooked meats, fresh bread, and the occasional tang of sea salt from fish vendors.

Xena dismounted and led her horse to the stables, agreeing with the elves that she would prefer to let them free but not trusting the safety of the realm. Once the horses were secured, she stepped confidently into the main street of the town, her eyes scanning the vibrant market with a mix of curiosity and determination.

The market was a cacophony of sounds and sights. There were vendors shouting their prices, children weaving through the crowd with giggles, and travelers from various regions engaging in lively haggling. The stalls were laden with goods: bolts of brightly colored fabric, intricately designed jewelry, and an array of food items that made Xena's mouth water. She could almost hear Gabrielle's voice in her head, reminding her to enjoy the little things as she took in the scene.

Legolas, Elros, Thalion, and Mírdan followed behind her, their eyes alert. They observed the bustling bazaar with a mixture of caution and fascination. The diversity and sheer volume of people were unlike anything they typically encountered.

Elros and Legolas spoke quietly in Elvish at the back of the group, debating whether to stay or leave soon. Legolas, observing Xena's evident interest and excitement, concluded that it would be best to allow a longer pause.

"Let her have this," Legolas said softly to Elros. "She has been through much, and it will do her good to rest and regain some strength. We can keep watch."

Elros nodded, though he remained wary. "Very well. But we must stay alert. This town is unlike our usual haunts, and danger can come from any direction."

They moved through the market, the elves' keen senses on high alert. The crowd bustled around them, a mix of Rohirrim in their distinctive garb, merchants from far-off lands, and the occasional dwarf haggling over goods. The sights and sounds were overwhelming, but also strangely comforting in their own way.

Xena led them to a small inn near the edge of the market square. It was a sturdy, welcoming building with a thatched roof and a warm glow emanating from the windows. She pushed open the door and stepped inside, the smell of roasting meat and freshly baked bread hitting her immediately. The inn was filled with a diverse crowd, all talking, laughing, and sharing stories of their travels.

The innkeeper, a burly man with a kind face, greeted them warmly. "Welcome, travelers! What can I do for you today?"

Xena smiled, her eyes twinkling with the prospect of a good meal and a warm bed. "We'll need rooms and a meal, if you have space for us."

The innkeeper nodded, glancing at the elves with a curious but respectful gaze. "Of course, we have rooms available. Please, make yourselves comfortable."

As they settled in, the elves took seats near the fireplace, their eyes still scanning the room with vigilance. Xena, however, allowed herself to relax for the first time in days, savoring the warmth and the promise of a hearty meal.

Xena sat at a table near the fireplace, not particularly interested in the fire but more focused on observing the bustling inn. She eagerly awaited her meal, her stomach growling with anticipation. When the food and wine were brought to her table, she wasted no time in diving into her meat-based meal, savoring every bite. Her hands rested on the table, fingers drumming lightly as she ate with gusto, clearly enjoying the hearty fare.

Across the room, a local drunkard, known for his delusions of being a womanizer, noticed her. He staggered over and plopped down in the chair opposite her, a sloppy grin on his face.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" he slurred, his words dripping with unwarranted confidence. "A lovely lady all alone. How about I keep you company tonight?"

Xena gave him a withering glare, barely pausing her meal. "Move along, or you'll regret it," she said, her voice low and dangerous.

The man chuckled, clearly not taking her seriously. "Come on now, don't be like that. I just want to have a bit of fun," he said, leaning closer.

Without even looking up, Xena rolled her eyes. She delivered a swift, hard kick under the table that connected with the man's shin, sending him tumbling backward. He hit the ground with a resounding thud, his face contorted in pain and embarrassment. The room went momentarily silent as patrons turned to see what had happened.

Xena continued eating as if nothing had occurred, her demeanor calm and unbothered. She wiped her mouth with a napkin and took a sip of wine, her eyes glancing briefly at the man sprawled on the floor before returning to her plate.

Legolas, who had been watching the scene unfold from across the room, had initially tensed, ready to intervene. However, seeing how effortlessly Xena handled the situation, he relaxed and couldn't help but smirk at her no-nonsense approach. It was evident that she was well-versed in dealing with unwanted attention, her actions swift and decisive.

As the inn's patrons resumed their conversations, a few of the more sensible men who had considered approaching Xena wisely decided against it. Legolas's curiosity was piqued; he was intrigued by how comfortable and unruffled Xena seemed in such situations. She carried herself with an air of confidence and self-assurance that was both impressive and puzzling.

When the innkeeper came over to check on the commotion, Xena simply nodded, assuring him that everything was fine. The innkeeper gave a curt nod to the drunkard, who was slowly picking himself up off the floor, and then returned to his duties, casting a wary glance at Xena.

Legolas continued to watch Xena, his thoughts drifting. There was much more to this woman than met the eye, and each encounter only deepened the mystery. Her strength and resilience were evident, but there was also a complexity to her that he found both intriguing and confounding. As the evening wore on, he couldn't shake the feeling that their journey together would reveal even more layers to this formidable warrior.

Xena finished her meal and was sipping her drink when she noticed someone picking up the chair that had fallen from her earlier kick. The man's hand, adorned with a snake tattoo, caught her eye. She recognized the tattoo immediately—it belonged to Malik, one of the mercenaries from the City of the Corsairs.

Malik sat down, his presence instantly commanding her attention. He had seen Xena enter the inn with the elves and quickly deduced the identity of the one elf—Legolas. Malik was impressed that Xena had not only taken on the quest but had also managed to find Legolas and become part of his team. His curiosity got the better of him, and he approached her.

Meeting Malik in this town brought back a flood of memories from a life she had almost forgotten. Her time in the City of the Corsairs had her teetering on the edge of her darker self, accepting quests that were not always the best choices. She knew that if she had stayed longer, she might have lost herself completely. Without Gabrielle or anyone else to keep her grounded, the pull of her dark past had been strong.

Now, seeing Malik sitting across from her, those memories came rushing back. Despite the potential danger he represented, she didn't react with hostility. Instead, she smirked and engaged him in a smart conversation. Malik, noting her accomplishments, mentioned her success in finding the elf and even questioned whether she would complete the quest and take Legolas's life.

Their conversation was abruptly interrupted when Legolas joined them. He had seen Malik approach Xena and initially expected her to kick him away. But this time, there she was, smirking in a way he had never seen before, her legs resting casually on the table as she enjoyed her wine. She seemed different, almost... nostalgic.

Legolas watched them for a moment, uneasy. Something about the way Xena interacted with Malik bothered him. It wasn't just the conversation, but the familiarity and ease with which she spoke to him. Finally, unable to ignore his instincts, Legolas stood up and approached them. When Malik noticed Legolas, he smoothly shifted the topic of conversation. Despite being a mercenary, Malik adhered to a certain code and would not reveal Xena's mission.

Legolas stood by their table, his expression unreadable but his eyes sharp. "Xena, who is this?" he asked, his tone neutral but laced with curiosity.

Xena looked up at him, her smirk never fading. "Legolas, this is Malik. An old... acquaintance from the City of the Corsairs."

Malik nodded politely. "Prince Legolas, it's an honor. Xena here was just telling me about your journey."

Legolas's eyes narrowed slightly. "I see. And what brings you to this town, Malik?"

Malik shrugged nonchalantly. "Just passing through, like many others. The world is full of paths that cross unexpectedly."

Legolas remained standing, not entirely convinced but unwilling to start a confrontation. "Indeed. We were just finishing up here. Xena, are you ready to leave?"

Xena finished her wine and stood up, her eyes locking with Malik's one last time. "Yes, I am. Malik, it was... interesting catching up."

Malik stood as well, a knowing smile on his lips. "Until next time, Xena. Safe travels, Prince Legolas."

Xena's demeanor had shifted noticeably since Malik referred to the elf as 'Prince Legolas.' She felt a mix of confusion and anger simmering beneath the surface. Suddenly, so many things made sense: the preferential treatment of Lothlórien, the elf's inherent pride, and the high reward for the quest involving him. She didn't care for titles, but learning that Legolas was a prince was a revelation that left her fuming. He had never mentioned his royal status.

As they approached the counter with Elros and the rest following, the innkeeper handed them two keys, indicating the availability of two rooms. Legolas, clearly affected by Malik's approach and Xena's reaction, did not hesitate. Tension was palpable between them.

Legolas took one of the keys and announced, "Xena will stay with me." His tone brooked no argument.

Xena shot him a glare, but the realization that they had much to discuss—or argue about—prompted her to comply. Elros took the second key, leading Thalion and Mírdan to the other room.

The rooms were modest yet cozy, with wooden beams lining the ceiling and a small window offering a view of the bustling street below. The furniture was simple: a sturdy bed with clean linens, a wooden dresser, and a small table with two chairs. The room had a rustic charm, and the flickering light from the fireplace cast a warm glow on the wooden walls.

Legolas entered the room first, setting his belongings down with a practiced grace. Xena followed, her anger barely contained as she shut the door behind her. The tension in the room was almost tangible, and for a moment, neither of them spoke.

Xena's eyes narrowed as she faced Legolas. "A prince?" she spat, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Of course, that explains everything."

Legolas met her gaze evenly, his expression calm but guarded. "It was not information I deemed necessary to share."

"Not necessary?" Xena's voice rose. "You don't think it's important for me to know that you're a prince? That's why we were treated like royalty in Lothlórien, isn't it? Because you are royalty!"

Legolas sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Yes, Xena. I am a prince, but my title does not define me. It is my actions that matter."

Xena scoffed, her anger still simmering. "Actions? Like keeping secrets? You didn't think that maybe, just maybe, it would be relevant for me to know who you really are?"

Legolas took a step closer, his eyes reflecting a mix of frustration and resolve. "I am not defined by my title, Xena. I am defined by my choices, just as you are defined by yours. I did not keep it from you out of malice. I kept it because it changes nothing about who I am."

Xena placed her hands on her hips, her glare unwavering. "It changes everything. Trust is earned, Legolas, and right now, you've made it very clear that you don't trust me enough to be honest with me."

Legolas's expression softened slightly. "I do trust you, Xena. I trust you with my life, as you trusted me with yours. But there are parts of our lives that are not easily shared."

Xena's anger ebbed, replaced by a lingering frustration. "I guess we both have our secrets," she muttered, turning away from him.

Legolas placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, his touch soft but firm. "We do."

The room fell silent as the weight of their words settled between them. The flickering light of the fireplace cast long shadows, creating a sense of intimacy that belied the tension. They had much to discuss, much to reconcile. Xena sat on the bed, gazing up at Legolas, who had stepped away, taking a seat in the armchair next to the window.

The silence grew as she removed her boots, placing them neatly on the floor beside the bed. Though she had longed for the comfort of a cozy bed, her irritation overshadowed any relief. She rummaged through their belongings and found a towel before heading to the adjoining room that offered a tub for cleaning up and a toilet.

Xena set her belongings on the small desk inside the room and began to prepare the bath. She filled the tub with warm water, watching as the steam rose and filled the room with a comforting heat. She undressed, leaving her clothes in a pile by the desk, and stepped into the tub. The warmth enveloped her, soothing her muscles and washing away the grime of travel.

She scrubbed herself thoroughly, the water turning murky as the dirt and sweat of the journey were rinsed away. Her fingers worked through her hair, untangling knots and letting the water run through the dark strands. She took her time, relishing the rare moment of peace and cleanliness.

After a while, Xena stepped out of the tub, wrapping herself in the towel. She dried off meticulously, ensuring that no moisture clung to her skin. She then washed her clothes, scrubbing them clean and wringing out the excess water before hanging them by the window to dry.

Dressed in a simple grey garment that covered her adequately, she returned to the main room. She opened the window, letting the cool night air in as she hung her clothes to dry. Finally, she climbed into the bed, pulling the covers over herself and trying to relax.

Legolas watched her for a moment before heading to the adjoining room himself. He followed the same routine, preparing a bath and stripping off his clothes. The warm water soothed his tense muscles, and he washed away the dirt and sweat of their journey. His hair, usually neat and clean, needed attention, and he carefully cleaned it, making sure every strand was free of grime.

After drying off, he dressed only in his leggings, leaving his upper body bare. His scent, a mix of summer rain mingled with a hint of mint and citrus, filled the room as he returned. Xena, her irritation growing, closed her eyes and tried to sleep, though the scent reminded her too much of him.

Legolas took a seat in the chair by the window, his thoughts troubled. He understood Xena's frustration at discovering his royal status, but his own irritation was directed elsewhere. He couldn't shake the encounter with Malik, and it gnawed at him.

Finally, unable to hold it in any longer, he asked her, "Xena, what is your connection with Malik?"

His tone was calm, but the underlying tension was clear. Xena, facing away from him in bed, took a moment before answering. Her voice was angry, but she still spoke to him, a sign that their bond, however strained, was not entirely broken.

"Malik is a mercenary from the City of the Corsairs," she began, her voice steady. "I've known him for years. He's a lost soul, but he's not someone I consider a threat. He's just... familiar."

Legolas's gaze remained fixed outside the window as he replied, "Familiar or not, he is dangerous. His presence unsettles me. He approached you with too much ease."

Xena turned slightly, her eyes narrowing. "You don't know him like I do. He's not the enemy here."

Legolas's expression hardened. "I don't trust him, Xena. And I don't understand why you do."

"Because I've been through things you can't imagine," she shot back, her temper flaring. "I know what it means to be lost, to seek redemption. Malik is no different."

Their voices rose, filling the room with their heated exchange. Legolas, feeling his own anger bubbling up, stood and faced her fully. "Trust is not given lightly. You've earned mine, but that does not extend to everyone you bring into our path."

Xena sat up, glaring at him. "And you think I trust easily? I don't. But I've learned to see beyond the surface. Maybe you should try it."

Their argument echoed in the small room, each refusing to back down. The fire flickered, casting shifting shadows that mirrored the turbulence of their emotions. Finally, the tension reached a breaking point, and they fell into a heavy silence, the unresolved conflict hanging in the air.

Legolas returned to his seat, his mind still churning. Xena lay back down, her anger simmering but her resolve unbroken. They were allies, bound by their mission and their mutual respect, but their differences were glaring and would not be easily reconciled. The night wore on, each lost in their thoughts, the distance between them both physical and emotional.

((Upcoming Chapter Twenty - Nine))

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