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 30: Silver Tears

River Limlight, August 5th 3018 T.A.

The Limlight River gleamed under the afternoon sun, its clear waters flowing eastwards from Fangorn Forest and eventually merging with the great Anduin. The river's gentle murmur provided a serene backdrop as the company arrived at its bank, weary from days of relentless travel since leaving Glanhir. They had passed through several villages, their sights set on the distant goal of Rivendell, but the promise of rest and reprieve had kept them going.

The riverbank was lush with tall grasses that swayed gently in the breeze, interspersed with wildflowers that added splashes of color to the verdant landscape. Trees lined the bank, their leaves whispering softly as the wind rustled through them. The setting sun cast a warm, golden hue over the scene, making the river sparkle like liquid gold.

They dismounted their horses, their movements slow and deliberate after the long ride. Thalion and Mírdan led the horses to drink from the river while Elros surveyed the area, his sharp eyes ensuring there were no hidden threats. The atmosphere was calm but tinged with an underlying tension.

Legolas and Xena had not exchanged more than necessary words since their heated argument in Glanhir. Legolas, with his keen senses and elvish grace, moved with an ease that belied his troubled thoughts. He busied himself checking the horses and setting up the camp, his actions precise and methodical. His usual calm demeanor was marred by a furrowed brow, evidence of the inner turmoil he did not wish to share.

Xena, on the other hand, was equally preoccupied. Her new attire, though practical and well-suited to the journey, felt foreign compared to her old armor. She moved with a determined grace, her eyes scanning the horizon as if searching for answers to questions she hadn't yet asked. She glanced occasionally at Legolas, her expression unreadable, but there was a lingering tension in the air between them.

Elros noticed the strain but chose not to push them. He knew that their journey would demand their full cooperation, and he hoped that time and shared experiences would mend the rift. He walked over to Thalion and Mírdan, who were discussing the best spot to make camp.

"We'll set up here for the night," Elros said, his voice steady. "Let's ensure the horses are well-rested and that we have a good view of the surroundings."

Thalion nodded, his usual light-hearted demeanor subdued. "I'll gather some firewood," he offered, heading toward the nearby trees.

Mírdan began unpacking their supplies, his movements efficient and quiet. The camaraderie among the group was strong, even if the recent tension between their leaders added a layer of complexity to their journey.

As night fell, the campfire crackled and cast flickering shadows. The scent of cooking meat and herbs filled the air, a welcome change from the travel rations they had been surviving on. The stars began to appear, twinkling like distant jewels in the darkening sky.

Legolas sat apart from the group, his back against a tree, eyes fixed on the horizon. He was lost in thought, his usual vigilant gaze softened by contemplation. Xena, meanwhile, sat closer to the fire, absently sharpening her sword. Her eyes occasionally flicked to Legolas, the firelight reflecting a mixture of defiance and something more complex.

The silence between them was heavy, filled with unspoken words and unresolved tension. Yet, beneath the surface, there was a growing respect and understanding, borne out of shared trials and mutual reliance.

Elros broke the silence, his voice gentle yet firm. "Rest now, for we ride at first light."

The company nodded, the weight of their journey evident in their weary expressions. As they settled down for the night, the Limlight River continued its eternal flow, a silent witness to the bonds being forged and the challenges yet to come. The night air was cool, the sounds of the river and the crackling fire blending into a soothing symphony that lulled them into a restless sleep, each lost in their own thoughts and dreams.

The moon was a silver sentinel in the night sky, casting a luminous glow over the green fields near the Limlight River. As it reached its zenith, the landscape transformed, and Xena witnessed a change that captured her attention. Across the fields, clear pools of water appeared, their surfaces so pristine they resembled liquid silver. These pools seemed almost otherworldly as if guarded by ethereal spirits that shimmered in the moonlight.

Xena's eyes widened as she took in the sight. What had been an expanse of darkness was now illuminated by a soft, mystical glow. The pools' gentle radiance was enough to pique her curiosity, drawing her like a moth to a flame. She glanced around, noting that her companions were deep in slumber, oblivious to the spectacle. Legolas, as usual, was absent, likely seeking solace in his solitary vigils.

Barefoot, she rose quietly, her steps light on the cool grass. She had picked up her sword before she decided to investigate. The ground beneath her feet was soft and damp, kissed by the river's nearby presence. She moved with the grace of a seasoned warrior, her senses alert to the stillness of the night. The closer she got, the more she realized that the glow was unlike any she had seen. It was akin to the gentle luminescence of the elves, a quality she had come to recognize and respect during her travels with them.

As Xena approached the mysterious silver pools, she felt the weight of the stillness around her. The air was heavy, and the usual night sounds were conspicuously absent. She tightened her grip on the hilt of her sword, her instincts alerting her to the presence of something unseen, something that felt both ancient and powerful.

When she reached the edge of the nearest pool, she peered into its depths. The water was so clear it reflected her image perfectly, showing every detail of her fierce, beautiful face. Her eyes, intense and piercing, stared back at her, filled with determination and the echoes of past battles. Her pale skin, marked by faint scars, was a testament to injury from the morgul-blade. The quietude around her was almost suffocating, broken only by the sound of her own breathing.

Then, without warning, the calmness shattered. A sloshing sound erupted from the pool, and before Xena could react, two silver hands shot out of the water, grabbing her wrists with a vice-like grip. Her sword fell into the pool, melting into the liquid like it had been swallowed by a furnace. The heat from the pool burned her skin, searing pain coursing through her arms.

Xena let out a cry of defiance, kicking at the silver hands with all her might. Her powerful legs struck again and again, but the hands did not falter. They continued to pull her closer, inch by inch, towards the scorching surface of the pool. Her reflection seemed to mock her, showing a fierce struggle mirrored in the calm surface.

The silver hands were relentless, their grip unyielding. Xena could feel the atmosphere around her growing heavier as if the very air was pressing down on her. She gritted her teeth, muscles straining as she fought to free herself. The pain was intense, but it only fueled her resolve. She would not be taken so easily.

In a final, desperate effort, Xena summoned every ounce of strength she had left. She twisted her body, using the momentum to try and break free. But the silver hands were stronger, their pull inexorable. The liquid silver reached the edge of her face, burning her skin as it touched her. She could feel her strength waning, the heat and pain overwhelming her senses.

Just as she was about to be fully submerged, a new force intervened. A bright, ethereal light pierced the darkness, and suddenly she felt a pair of hands gripping her firmly. One hand hugged her from around her neck, and the other circled her waist. Together, they pulled against the relentless silver hands. Their combined strength finally overcame the pull of the silver hands, and they both fell back onto the ground, gasping for breath.

Xena found herself on top of the elf who had aided her, both of them lying on the grass now, looking up at the sky. The adrenaline surged through their bodies, making their hearts race. After a few moments, their heartbeats began to slow, and they sat up, gazing at each other in a mix of relief and curiosity.

The elf glanced at the silver pools, his eyes narrowing as he observed the ethereal spirits that hovered protectively around the water. "These are the Silver Tears," he began, his voice calm and soothing. "Few can see them, and even fewer understand their true nature."

Xena listened intently, still catching her breath. She followed his gaze to the pools, now beginning to lose their glow as the moon started its descent.

"The Silver Tears appear only on nights of the full moon," the elf continued. "They are visible to those with dark pasts, those who carry the weight of their wrongdoings. The spirits that guard these pools are ancient and relentless. They seek to claim those who have debts to the world because of their misdeeds."

He paused, his eyes reflecting the sorrow and wisdom of countless years. "When someone with a dark past looks into the silver waters, the spirits see them. They reach out, dragging them into the depths, burning them into nothingness. All that remains are their tears, transformed into the silver liquid you see."

Xena shivered, both from the lingering cold of the pool's touch and the chilling tale. "Is there no escape?" she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity.

The elf shook his head slowly. "There is little hope for those taken. The spirits are relentless. They believe that justice is served by claiming those who have wronged the world. Humans of this age have forgotten this tale, but we elves remember. We know that the pools are not mere myth, though many believe them to be."

Xena looked back at the fading pools, the once-bright silver now dimming as dawn approached. "What happened to make them like this?" she asked, her tone softer, more reflective.

The elf sighed, his gaze distant. "Long ago, during the First Age, a group of elves committed grievous acts. They betrayed their kin, seeking power and dominion. When they realized the depth of their wrongdoings, they wept for their lost honor and shattered bonds. Their tears were collected by the spirits, who transformed them into these pools as a reminder and a warning. These pools only appear to those whose pasts echo with darkness, as a final chance to atone or be claimed."

As he finished, the last remnants of the pools vanished with the light of the moon. The field was once again dark and quiet, the eerie glow gone.

Xena had heard him, the story, and after the pools were all gone, she turned and faced him. She was not confused about the Silver pools, or the silver tears, nor about the spirits she had not seen but only felt. She was not even scared that she was almost dragged into the pool. What had her gazing at him with her piercing eyes, a gaze that was both comforting and intimidating, was the multitude of questions now filling her mind.

For her to see the pools, she could understand now, since she had a dark past, a very dark one. But for the elf to have a dark past, and see them, left her confused. "Did you see them?" she asked, her voice steady, almost challenging. "The pools and the spirits?"

The elf nodded, his expression calm but unreadable. Before she could ask him more, before they could dive into a story of his past, the elf cut the connection. He stood up, offering her his hand. When she accepted and stood up, he pulled his hand away and left, seeking once more his isolation. Xena watched Legolas leaving, his silhouette disappearing into the shadows of the forest.

Returning to camp, Xena remained silent about the night's events. She settled back into her bedding, her mind racing with the new revelation. She had always thought of the elf as prideful, perhaps even a bit spoiled. Now, she saw a glimpse of a deeper, more complicated being.

As dawn approached, the camp began to stir. The others started their morning routines, unaware of the night's mysterious and harrowing encounter. Xena's eyes scanned the campsite, noting the familiar movements of her companions. Elros was already up, preparing the horses. Thalion and Mírdan were checking their gear, making sure everything was in place for the day's journey.

Xena joined them, her thoughts still on the silver pools and the elf who had seen them. She prepared her horse, her movements automatic, her mind elsewhere. She resolved to find out more about Legolas's past, but she knew it would not be easy. Trust was a fragile thing, and while they had made progress, there was still much ground to cover.

As they rode south along the Limlight River, the conversation was light, filled with stories and laughter. The tension between Xena and Legolas was still there, but it was overshadowed by the camaraderie of the group. They rode for hours, the landscape changing around them, the river a constant companion.

The day passed without incident, and the group making good progress. As evening approached, they found a suitable spot to set up camp. The routine was familiar now, each member knowing their role. The fire was lit, and the scent of cooking filled the air.

Xena watched Legolas from across the campfire. He was speaking with Elros, their voices low, their expressions serious. She wondered what secrets he held, what darkness lurked in his past. She knew now that she was not the only one fighting inner demons, and that realization brought a strange sense of comfort.

The night passed without further encounters with the supernatural. The silver pools were gone, leaving only the memory of their haunting presence. Xena fell asleep with the image of the silver hands reaching for her, a reminder of the ever-present struggle between light and darkness.

A balance she was fighting to keep, as she knew very well that she could never be absolutely good or bad. What she could be was a blend of both, walking the tightrope between light and shadow. She always believed that only a few would understand that. Gabrielle, her trusted friend, had understood her. In her old world, a few others had as well. But here in Middle-earth, it was the first time she found a connection with someone's darkness.

She did not know what Legolas was holding deep in his heart, what his darkness was. She, who would always easily connect the dots, had abandoned the idea that Legolas was responsible for his mother's dark fate and, in the end, that he had taken her life. So she thought there was another darkness haunting him. But if she would look a little deeper, she already knew the answer.

Morning came, and the camp stirred to life once more. Xena found herself moving through the motions of preparing for the day, her thoughts lingering on the mystery of Legolas's past. She glanced at him occasionally, noting the way he interacted with the others, the subtle hints of his burdened mind visible in his demeanor.

As they rode on, the landscape around them continued to shift. The journey was peaceful, yet Xena could sense the underlying tension that had become a constant companion. She was not alone in her thoughts; Legolas seemed equally preoccupied.

During a brief rest, Xena took the opportunity to speak with Elros. "You know Legolas well," she began, her voice low to avoid drawing attention. "Has he always been like this?"

Elros glanced at her, a knowing look in his eyes. "He carries many burdens, more than most know. The weight of his past, the responsibilities of his present... It's not easy for him."

"He mentioned his mother once," Xena said, watching for Elros's reaction. "I feel there's more to it than he lets on."

Elros nodded slowly. "The loss of his mother was a turning point for him. It's a wound that never truly healed. But there are other shadows that haunt him, things he does not speak of easily."

Xena absorbed this information, feeling a deeper sense of connection to the elf. They both carried their pasts like heavy cloaks, shadows that never fully receded. As the journey continued, the landscape grew more rugged, the path winding through hills and valleys. They crossed the Limlight River, its clear waters reflecting the midday sun. The company moved with purpose along the Wold, each member focused on the task at hand, yet the unspoken tension remained.

((Upcoming Chapter Thirty - One))

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