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)

ActIV

Mellon

Chapter 36: Voices Beneath the Moonlight

North-South Road, August 17th 3018 T.A.

Xena walked away from the camp in the stillness of the night, her bare feet making no sound on the soft grass. The air was cool, with a slight breeze that carried the earthy scent of the grass and the fresh, crisp scent of the nearby pool of water. The stars above were distant pinpricks of light in the inky black sky, and the crescent moon cast a faint, silvery glow over the landscape. The campfire, still burning but slowly dying, flickered behind her as she moved further away, the warmth of its flames fading from her skin.

She had been restless, unable to sleep, her thoughts swirling like a storm inside her mind. The wound on her side, inflicted by the Nazgûl's blade, was a constant reminder of the darkness that still lingered within her. Despite the healing she had received from the elves in Lothlórien, she could feel it—an insidious presence, a shard of malevolence lodged deep within her flesh. It was a battle she fought alone, a struggle against the darkness that sought to claim her soul.

She reached the pool, a small, serene body of water nestled among the grass. The surface was smooth, like glass, reflecting the pale moonlight. The water was so clear that she could see the smooth stones at the bottom, undisturbed by any movement. Xena knelt beside it, her reflection looking back at her—her face calm, yet her eyes betrayed the turmoil within. Her breath came in slow, measured inhales as she tried to center herself, to find a moment of peace.

She wore a simple grey dress, short and utilitarian, made of a soft, breathable fabric that clung to her form. It was comfortable and allowed for easy movement, but it was not her armor. It was not the strong, protective barrier she was accustomed to. And yet, it was all she had. The dress brushed against her skin as she moved, reminding her of her vulnerability, of the wound hidden beneath the fabric.

Xena lifted the hem of the dress, exposing the bandaged wound on her side. The edges of the bandage were frayed from movement, and she carefully unwrapped it, revealing the injury beneath. The wound was healing, but the skin around it was still an angry red, the center a deeper, almost purplish shade. She could feel the pain radiating from it, a dull ache that pulsed with every beat of her heart. But it was not just physical pain. It was something more, something darker.

She dipped her hand into the pool, cupping the cool water and letting it spill over the wound. The sensation was both soothing and painful, the cold water stinging as it touched the exposed flesh. She gritted her teeth, her breath hitching slightly as she cleaned the wound, her fingers gentle but firm. The water ran in rivulets down her side, carrying away the dried blood and the lingering dirt.

As she worked, Xena's thoughts turned inward. She had faced many battles in her life, both physical and emotional, but this—this was different. The Nazgûl's blade had not just injured her body; it had left a piece of itself behind, a shard of pure darkness that sought to consume her from within. She could feel it, like a shadow on the edge of her consciousness, whispering to her, tempting her to give in, to let go. The darkness was familiar, but it was not welcome. She had fought so hard to leave it behind, to walk a path of redemption, but it was always there, waiting for a moment of weakness.

Her thoughts drifted to the elves of Lothlórien, to the healing they had given her. It had saved her, for now. The shard of the blade had been held at bay, its progress slowed, but it was not gone. It was a temporary reprieve, a battle won, but the war was far from over. The danger was still there, lurking beneath the surface, waiting for its chance to strike.

Xena's fingers traced the edges of the wound, feeling the rough texture of the scar tissue that was beginning to form. Her body was strong, resilient, but this—this was beyond her control. She could feel the darkness, like a poison slowly spreading through her veins, and it terrified her. She was not afraid of death—she had faced it too many times to fear it—but the thought of becoming something else, something twisted and corrupted, was a fate she could not bear.

She looked up at the night sky, the stars silent witnesses to her struggle. The night was beautiful, peaceful, and yet it felt like a mockery. The world around her was calm, untouched by the evil that had marked her, but within her, a storm raged. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, to find the strength to continue fighting. She would not let the darkness win. She could not.

After a long moment, Xena finished cleaning the wound and carefully rewrapped it with a fresh bandage. The pain was still there, but it was manageable, a reminder of the battle she fought every day. She stood, her reflection in the pool rippling slightly as she moved. The cool night air brushed against her skin, sending a shiver down her spine, but she welcomed it. It was a reminder that she was still alive, still fighting.

Xena had just finished tending to her wound when she heard a faint sound behind her, the rustle of leaves underfoot. Her senses were sharp, but she didn't need to turn around to know who it was. The presence was familiar, and the voice that followed confirmed it.

"It was made by a Morgul-knife, wasn't it?" Aragorn's voice was low and steady, carrying the weight of deep concern.

Xena took a moment to compose herself before turning to face the ranger. The dim light of the moon illuminated his rugged features, the lines of worry etched deeply on his brow. She nodded, her expression calm but solemn. "Yes, it was a Nazgûl that did this. We were ambushed, and I took the blow that was meant for Legolas. I was treated in Lothlórien—Galadriel's healers did what they could."

Aragorn stepped closer, his keen eyes assessing the wound with the practiced gaze of one who had seen many injuries. His concern deepened, evident in the way his mouth tightened. "A Morgul-knife is not to be taken lightly. Even the best healers can only do so much. The darkness it leaves behind... it can linger, gnaw at the very essence of who you are."

Xena met his gaze, her blue eyes steady. "I know what it can do. But I've fought against darkness before, Aragorn. I won't let it take me."

Aragorn nodded, though the seriousness in his expression did not wane. "You've been through much, I can tell. But this is not something to face alone. When we reach Rivendell, you must see Lord Elrond. He has knowledge and power beyond that of any other healer in Middle-earth. If anyone can rid you of this shadow, it is him."

Xena inclined her head in agreement. "I was told as much in Lothlórien. I'll seek out Lord Elrond as soon as we arrive."

Aragorn relaxed slightly, reassured by her words. He took a seat on a nearby rock, his posture more at ease now that the initial concern had been voiced. "Elrond is not just a healer; he is also a father to me. I grew up in Rivendell under his care. It was there that I learned much of what I know, not just of healing, but of history, of the world."

Xena looked at him with interest. "You grew up in Rivendell? I had heard you were close to the elves, but I didn't know the extent of it."

Aragorn nodded, a small smile touching his lips as he recalled his youth. "Yes, Elrond took me in after my father was killed. He raised me as his own, and I have always considered Rivendell my home, even though my destiny lies elsewhere."

Xena found herself drawn to Aragorn's story, the way he spoke of Rivendell and the family he had found there. "You have lived a life filled with purpose and challenge, Aragorn."

Aragorn's expression grew more serious, the weight of his responsibilities evident in his eyes. "Fate has played its part. But we all have our paths to walk, Xena. We are all bound by the same cause, the same fight against the darkness that threatens to consume us."

Xena nodded, her respect for Aragorn growing with each word. "I appreciate that, Aragorn. And I will do my part. But I also understand that the path I'm on is one I must tread carefully. This wound... it's a reminder that I cannot afford to be careless."

Aragorn reached out and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "You are strong, Xena, stronger than most. But even the strongest need help sometimes. Rivendell will offer you the healing you need, and the rest will be up to you."

Xena looked up at the sky, the stars twinkling like distant beacons of hope. "I've never been one to rely on others, but this time... "

Aragorn gave her a slight nod of approval, acknowledging the gravity of what Xena had just shared. He did not know her for very long, but it was clear to him that she had earned Legolas's respect and possibly even his trust, something that was not easily given by the elven prince. Xena was prideful, much like Legolas, and stubborn in her own right. Aragorn had not yet heard the tales of their arguments, but he didn't need to. Knowing Legolas as he did, Aragorn could already foresee the nature of their relationship—one marked by clashes, but also by a growing mutual respect.

There was, however, something that made Aragorn a little skeptical. It was the reason why Xena had followed them in the first place, why she was after Legolas. This question had lingered since their meeting, and even Legolas himself had mentioned it to Aragorn, indicating that Xena had never fully answered it. The silence that followed their conversation about the Morgul wound was eventually broken by Xena, who commented on the change she had noticed in Legolas's demeanor around Aragorn. It was a stark contrast to how the elf usually carried himself—no longer guarded and unreadable, but more relaxed and open, a testament to the depth of their friendship.

Aragorn smiled slightly, appreciating the observation. "Legolas and I have been through much together," he said, his tone warm with nostalgia. "We met years ago, long before I took up the mantle of a ranger. Our friendship was forged in the fires of battle, in the long, cold nights of the wilderness, and in the shared burden of protecting the realms of Middle-earth from the growing darkness."

Xena nodded, drawing a parallel to her own life. "It reminds me of the bond I had with my friend Gabrielle. There are some friendships that go beyond words, that survive even the harshest of trials."

Aragorn's gaze softened at her words. "It is the friendships we form in times of adversity that are often the strongest. Legolas and I have stood side by side against many foes, but more than that, we have shared in each other's struggles, our doubts, and our hopes for the future."

The conversation turned back to Legolas, with Aragorn recounting some of their exploits, particularly those with the rangers. Xena listened intently, her respect for the elf growing as Aragorn spoke. The tales painted a picture of Legolas that was more complex than she had imagined—someone who was not only a fierce warrior but also a loyal friend and protector.

It was then that Aragorn, his curiosity piqued by the bond forming between Xena and Legolas, asked the question that had been on his mind. "Xena, why were you looking for Legolas in the first place? What brought you to seek him out?"

Xena hesitated, considering how much to reveal. She didn't know Aragorn well, but the trust that Legolas placed in him, and the little she had observed of his character, made her decide to tell the truth. "It was during my time in Umbar," she began, her voice steady but tinged with the weight of her confession. "Life there is harsh, unforgiving. To survive, I took on jobs that were... let's just say they were far from honorable."

Aragorn listened intently, his expression serious as he sensed the gravity of what she was about to reveal.

"One of those 'quests' was a high-paid assassination job," Xena continued. "The contract was simple: kill an elf. I didn't know who he was, only that he was supposedly a force of evil who had betrayed his own mother to the forces of Sauron and eventually killed her. The quest had been posted years ago, back when Sauron was still known as the Necromancer. The contract was issued by one of his lieutenants, a figure known as Alakar."

At the mention of the name, Aragorn's eyes narrowed. He knew of Alakar—a sorcerer of considerable power who had been one of Sauron's most trusted servants. Xena continued, unaware of the full implications of what she had just said.

"The reward was substantial—enough to set me up for life, or so I thought. I accepted the quest and the gold, not knowing at the time who Legolas really was or what he stood for. All I knew was the lies I had been told about him."

Aragorn was shocked, though he hid it well, choosing instead to let Xena finish her story. He knew that the information she had been given was not entirely wrong. The orcs around Mirkwood would certainly want Legolas dead, but the involvement of Alakar made it far more serious.

"What did you know about Alakar?" Aragorn asked, his voice betraying the seriousness of the question.

Xena shrugged slightly. "I thought he was just a powerful orc, one of Sauron's many lieutenants. But I heard that he was killed, so I didn't think much of it."

Aragorn shook his head, correcting her. "Alakar is no mere orc. He is a sorcerer, a servant of Sauron who wields considerable dark power. And he is not dead—not by a long shot. If you accepted a contract from him and did not fulfill it, you could be in grave danger."

The realization dawned on Xena, the weight of her situation settling in. Aragorn continued, his tone grave. "Alakar does not take kindly to failure. If he is still aware of this contract, or if word reaches him that you are in the company of the very elf you were meant to kill, he will come for you."

Their conversation deepened as they discussed the implications of what Xena had revealed. Aragorn understood the seriousness of the situation and did not underestimate the threat that Alakar posed. However, he also respected Xena's resolve, seeing that she had clearly strayed from her original path.

Aragorn did not mention the truth about Legolas's mother. That was not his story to tell, and if Xena wanted to know, she would have to ask Legolas directly. But the question remained: would she carry out her original mission, or would she abandon it? From what Aragorn could tell, it seemed she had already made her choice.

After a long silence, Aragorn finally spoke, his voice steady and filled with quiet determination. "Xena, you may have taken that contract, but it's clear to me that you've moved beyond it. Whatever darkness lies in your past, it's not who you are now. But be wary—Alakar is not a foe to be underestimated. When we reach Rivendell, we must be cautious. I will speak with Lord Elrond about this."

Xena nodded, appreciating Aragorn's understanding. "I won't let the past define me, Aragorn. I'm here now, and I'm not turning back."

With that, their conversation ended, leaving both with much to ponder. They slowly made their way back to camp, each lost in thought about what the future might hold. The road to Rivendell was fraught with danger, but they were determined to face it together, no matter the cost.

((Upcoming Chapter Thirty - Seven))

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