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 37: Tangled Paths of Wit and Shadow
North-South Road, August 18th - 23rd 3018 T.A.
As dawn's first light crept over the horizon, each member of the company stirred from their slumber, ready to face another day on the road. Legolas had returned from his usual nightly isolation, slipping back into camp as quietly as the breeze. He found the others already stirring, their belongings packed, and breakfast being hastily prepared. The smell of plant-based food filled the air—a mixture of herbs, roots, and greens gathered along their journey.
Xena, however, was less than enthusiastic about the morning's offering. She sat cross-legged near the small fire, poking at her portion with a twig, her expression one of barely concealed distaste. "I swear, if I have to eat one more leaf or root," she muttered, eyeing the meal like it had personally wronged her.
Legolas, ever the picture of calm composure, shot her a sidelong glance. "Perhaps if you had caught more fish last night, you wouldn't be complaining now," he remarked, his tone teasing but with that familiar edge that always seemed to spark a reaction from Xena.
Xena shot him a glare, but before she could retort, Aragorn, who had been quietly observing the exchange, raised an eyebrow. He was used to seeing Legolas poised and serene, but this playful bickering was new to him. It was clear that Xena had a way of bringing out a side of the elf that few had ever witnessed.
After breakfast, the group quickly packed up their belongings, moving efficiently with the practiced ease of seasoned travelers. The horses were saddled, and the camp was cleared, leaving no trace of their presence. But as they prepared to mount and continue their journey, a minor task remained—disposing of the campfire's remnants. It was a simple job, but somehow, and as usual, it was about to become a challenge.
"I'll take care of it," Xena said, striding confidently toward the fire pit.
"Don't be ridiculous, you barely know how to handle it without setting something else on fire," Legolas countered, moving to intercept her.
Xena's eyes narrowed. "Are you implying I don't know how to put out a fire? I've been doing this long before you were born."
Legolas crossed his arms, a small smirk playing on his lips. "Considering I'm much older than you, that's highly unlikely."
Aragorn watched from a distance, curiosity piqued as the two began their familiar dance of stubbornness. The rest of the group looked on as well, clearly used to this routine, though they seemed more amused than concerned.
"I can handle it," Xena insisted, her tone brooking no argument.
"Or you can let someone who doesn't resort to fire-breathing tricks do it properly," Legolas retorted, referencing the incident from the night before when Xena had used her unconventional method to deal with the bugs. He raised an eyebrow at her, his expression a mixture of amusement and challenge.
Xena huffed, her patience wearing thin. "Fine, if you think you're so much better at it, be my guest." She stepped aside with an exaggerated gesture, as if handing over a crown.
Legolas, never one to back down from a challenge, accepted the task with a mock bow. He gracefully knelt by the fire pit, using his dagger to carefully stir the ashes, ensuring every ember was extinguished. But Xena, not one to let him have the last word, leaned over his shoulder.
"Don't miss that spot, elf," she said, pointing to a small patch of glowing embers.
Legolas glanced up at her, his eyes glinting with a mix of irritation and amusement. "I see it, human. Perhaps you'd like to do it yourself, after all?"
"Maybe I would," Xena shot back, crouching beside him and snatching the dagger from his hand. The two of them now hovered over the fire pit, both trying to control the process, elbows bumping and movements getting in each other's way.
Their playful tussle over the dagger turned into a light-hearted, albeit childish, wrestling match, with Xena trying to push Legolas's hand away and Legolas calmly resisting, his face a picture of serene determination. From a distance, it looked like two children bickering over a toy, each refusing to concede.
Aragorn could barely suppress a laugh. He had never seen Legolas so engaged in such a trivial, yet oddly endearing, conflict. It was clear that Xena had a unique way of bringing out a side of the elf that Aragorn found both surprising and amusing.
Finally, Elros, who had been watching the entire spectacle with an amused smile, stepped forward. "Should I fetch some water from the river and settle this for you two?" he asked, his tone light and teasing.
Both Xena and Legolas paused, realizing how ridiculous they must have looked. They glanced at each other, a shared moment of understanding passing between them. Xena reluctantly let go of the dagger, standing up with a huff. "Fine. I suppose we're done here."
Legolas rose to his feet, sheathing his dagger with a smirk. "Indeed. And next time, perhaps you'll let the expert handle it."
Xena rolled her eyes but couldn't help the small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Expert, huh? We'll see about that."
As they mounted their horses and prepared to set off, Aragorn finally allowed himself a chuckle. "I've traveled with you for years, Legolas, and I must say, this is a side of you I never expected to see."
Legolas, slightly embarrassed but not willing to admit it, simply shrugged. "Xena has a way of bringing out the best—or perhaps the worst—in people."
Xena shot him a look, half playful, half challenging. "I'll take that as a compliment."
Aragorn shook his head, still smiling as they began their ride. The day promised to be long, but the morning's lighthearted incident had lifted the group's spirits, turning what could have been a mundane task into a moment of camaraderie and humor.
As they left behind the rocky area and the quiet pool where they'd camped the night before, the company moved swiftly along the North-South Road. The air was crisp, and the early morning sun cast long shadows across the landscape, signaling the start of a new day. Their horses, well-rested from the night, trotted forward with renewed energy, and the group's pace quickened as they sought to cover as much ground as possible.
To the east, the wide plains of Dunland stretched out, a rugged and desolate land that had long been the home of the Dunlendings. The group was wary as they rode along the border of this territory, knowing well the hostility that lingered in these lands. The Dunlendings were a proud and bitter people, descendants of those who had once inhabited much of the land now known as Rohan. Their animosity toward the Rohirrim was well-known, and their enmity with the Dúnedain made this region particularly dangerous.
Aragorn, riding alongside Legolas at the front of the company, kept a watchful eye on the surrounding terrain. He knew from experience that the Dunlendings, though not a large force, were cunning and could strike unexpectedly. "We must stay alerted," Aragorn said in a low voice, breaking the silence. "These lands may seem empty, but we are not alone."
Legolas nodded, his sharp elven eyes scanning the horizon. "We've crossed paths with the Wild Men of Dunland before. They are fierce and tenacious, but we should be able to avoid them if we keep our wits about us."
Xena, riding just behind them, listened intently to their conversation. She was familiar with the tactics of such wild men from her own world, and though the landscapes and names were different, the dangers were much the same. Her hand rested lightly on the hilt of her sword, ready to spring into action if needed.
The company continued their journey with a heightened sense of awareness. The road beneath them, though still relatively intact, bore the signs of neglect. Weeds grew through the cracks, and the ancient stonework was crumbling in places. It was a stark reminder of the decay that had befallen much of the land since the glory days of Númenor.
As they rode, Aragorn shared more of his knowledge of the region. "Tharbad was once a bustling town, a key crossing point on the Great Road, but now it lies in ruins. The bridge that once spanned the river there is long gone, and the ford is treacherous."
"Are there still people living there?" Xena asked, curious about what they might encounter.
"A few," Aragorn replied. "The Dunlendings, mostly. They eke out a living among the ruins, but it is a harsh existence. The town is nothing like it once was."
Legolas added, "We should avoid Tharbad if we can. The ruins are unstable, and the river can be dangerous. But it may be our only option for crossing."
The conversation drifted into silence as the company pressed on, the landscape gradually shifting around them. The rolling hills of Dunland began to give way to the flatter lands of Enedhwaith, and the sense of tension eased slightly as the morning wore on.
The days passed in a similar rhythm. The company would ride hard during the day, stopping only briefly to rest the horses and take a meal. At night, they would find whatever shelter they could, be it among the trees or near a natural landmark that provided some cover. The journey was arduous, but they moved with purpose, knowing that each day brought them closer to their destination.
On the third day, around noon, the road took a sudden turn, and the landscape opened up before them, revealing a distant view of the town of Tharbad. Even from afar, the signs of decay were evident—crumbling walls, overgrown streets, and the distant glint of water reflecting off the ruins of the old bridge.
As they drew nearer, the atmosphere grew tense once more. The air was thick with the smell of damp earth and decaying wood, and the sound of rushing water grew louder with each passing moment. The company exchanged uneasy glances, knowing that they were approaching a place steeped in the echoes of a long-forgotten past.
Aragorn led them to a halt at the edge of a small rise overlooking the town. "We should rest here before we enter Tharbad," he said. "The Ford is just ahead, but the crossing will be difficult."
Legolas dismounted and surveyed the town with a critical eye. "We must be cautious. The Dunlendings may not welcome our presence, and the ruins are not as they once were."
The company set up a temporary camp, knowing that they would need to gather their strength before attempting the crossing. As they rested, they exchanged stories of the road, their voices low and reflective. The journey had brought them closer together, and even the playful bickering between Xena and Legolas had become a source of comfort in the face of the unknown challenges ahead.
As they prepared for the night, each member of the company knew that the next day would bring them to a crucial point in their journey. Tharbad lay ahead, a town of shadows and memories, and beyond it, their paths would diverge. But for now, they rested, drawing strength from the bonds they had forged along the road.
As the sun dipped below the horizon and the soft glow of twilight settled over the camp, Xena wandered off toward the nearby river, intent on her now-familiar ritual of fishing. She carried a simple bowl and a knife, her steps light and purposeful as she made her way through the reeds. The sound of water gently lapping against the bank was a soothing counterpoint to the distant calls of swans and other water birds that inhabited the fenland.
Back at the camp, Elros chuckled as he watched her go. "The human has an unusual fascination with fishing, doesn't she?"
Thalion nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Indeed. She reminds me of some of the fisherfolk of Lake-town, though I doubt even they approach the task with as much zeal as she does."
Mírdan, who was busy tending to the fire, added, "It's rare to see a warrior so comfortable with the mundane tasks of survival. In Mirkwood, the elven maidens are skilled, of course, but you wouldn't find them knee-deep in a river catching fish for supper."
The light-hearted banter continued, with the elves weaving a playful tale of what it would be like if Xena were an elven maiden in Mirkwood.
Elros leaned in, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Can you imagine? She would be the talk of the realm. I can already hear the gossip. 'Did you hear what Lady Xena did today? She caught a fish the size of a boar with her bare hands!'"
Thalion laughed, shaking his head. "And no doubt she would challenge any elf, even Legolas, to a contest of skill. 'First to catch a dozen fish without magic wins,' she would say. And of course, she would win."
Mírdan chimed in, "And let's not forget the fact that she'd be wrestling bears and challenging the spiders of Mirkwood to duels. She'd be more warrior than any of us."
The group shared a laugh, their voices carrying lightly on the evening breeze. The mood around the campfire was warm, the camaraderie built over the many miles of travel and shared dangers.
As the laughter died down, Legolas and Aragorn exchanged a glance. With a subtle nod, they excused themselves from the group and stepped away from the campfire. The two friends walked side by side, their footsteps quiet as they made their way toward a small rise overlooking the camp. The stars were beginning to peek out from the darkening sky, and the gentle murmur of the river provided a tranquil backdrop to their conversation.
"She's an interesting one, that Xena," Aragorn began, his tone thoughtful. "I've met many warriors in my time, but few like her."
Legolas nodded, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon. "She is...different. I've traveled with her for some time now, and still, there are many things about her that remain a mystery to me."
Aragorn glanced at his friend, noting the subtle shift in his demeanor. Legolas, usually so composed and distant, seemed more at ease, more open. It was a side of the elf that Aragorn was one of the few who had seen, and it piqued his curiosity.
"She has earned your respect," Aragorn observed a hint of a smile in his voice.
"She has," Legolas admitted. "It is not easily given, as you well know. But Xena...there is something about her, a strength and resilience that I have come to admire. Yet, I cannot shake the feeling that there is more to her than she lets on."
Aragorn nodded, his thoughts briefly turning to the conversation he'd had with Xena earlier. He chose his next words carefully. "She carries a heavy burden, Legolas. More than she reveals to most."
Legolas turned to face Aragorn, his expression serious. "What do you know?"
"Only what she has chosen to share," Aragorn replied, his tone measured. "She has told me a little of her past, the struggles she has faced, and the darkness that still haunts her. But the details...those are hers to share with you, if and when she chooses."
Legolas felt a pang of concern. "And the wound? The one inflicted by the Morgul-knife? I know it is serious, but she speaks little of it."
Aragorn sighed, his gaze dropping to the ground. "The Morgul-blade is a cruel weapon. The shard that remains in her body is a constant threat as you know. Even if she has been treated, but the effects of such a wound linger. I have urged her to see Lord Elrond when we reach Rivendell. He is the only one who may be able to help her fully."
Legolas clenched his fists, the weight of Aragorn's words settling heavily on his shoulders. "I will see to it that she does. She hides her pain well, but I have seen glimpses of it. If the darkness within her grows... I fear what might happen."
Aragorn placed a reassuring hand on Legolas's shoulder. "She is strong, stronger than most. But even the strongest among us must seek aid when the burden becomes too great. You and I both know this."
Legolas nodded, his resolve firm. "I will watch over her. She is part of our company now, and I will not let her face this alone."
Aragorn smiled, a warm, brotherly smile that conveyed his deep trust in the elf. "I know you won't. And she is fortunate to have you by her side."
The conversation shifted then, to more familiar topics—the long friendship between Aragorn and Legolas, their shared adventures with the Rangers, and the challenges they had faced together. They spoke of Arwen, and Legolas offered his unwavering support for Aragorn's love, despite the complexities it brought.
"I was once against it," Legolas admitted, his voice softer now. "But I see now that your love for Arwen is true, and it is not my place to stand in the way of that. She has chosen you, and you her. That is all that matters."
Aragorn nodded, though the weight of his love for Arwen was always with him. "I worry for her, for the grief she may one day face. But I cannot imagine my life without her."
"Then do not," Legolas replied, his tone gentle. "Live each day as it comes, with her by your side. The future is uncertain, but the love you share is a gift. Cherish it."
As the night deepened, their conversation slowly wound down. Legolas and Aragorn returned to the camp, finding the others in various states of rest. Xena had returned from her fishing expedition, and the company had already prepared the camp for the night. The mood was calm, the earlier light-heartedness giving way to a more reflective atmosphere.
Legolas cast a glance at Xena as she settled down by the fire, her expression contemplative. The campsite buzzed with the usual hum of evening activity. The horses were being tended to, the fire crackled merrily, and the faint scent of roasting fish wafted through the air. It was a scene of calm, but that tranquility was shattered as Xena and Legolas stood in the center of it, locked in yet another heated argument.
"I don't see why you keep insisting on bringing that foul-smelling fish back to camp!" Legolas snapped, his voice taut with frustration.
Xena, hands on her hips, smirked at him, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Oh, come on, Legolas. Not everyone enjoys chewing on leaves and twigs like you elves. Some of us need real food."
The elf rolled his eyes. "Real food that reeks and turns the entire camp into a fishery? You've managed to taint the very air we breathe, Xena!"
"Well," Xena said, picking up the bowl of fish remains and stepping closer to him, "maybe you need to get used to it. Here, have a closer look!" And with that, she upended the bowl over Legolas's head, showering him in fish bones, scales, and the leftover water.
For a moment, there was stunned silence. Legolas stood there, dripping with fish water, his usually impeccable hair and attire now splattered with fishy remnants. Xena took a step back, folded her arms across her chest, and let out a small chuckle. "Hmm, I thought elves were supposed to be graceful and elegant, not smelling like the bottom of a fishing boat."
The corners of Legolas's mouth tightened, his pride clearly stung. But even more irksome was the fact that despite being doused in fish remains, he didn't seem to smell all that bad. Xena couldn't help but be a little irritated by this.
"This," Legolas began, his voice calm in that infuriatingly measured way he often used when on the brink of losing his temper, "is unacceptable." He peeled a fish bone off his shoulder and flicked it aside. "You'll regret that, Xena."
"Oh, will I now?" she challenged, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "And what exactly are you going to do about it, Your Highness? Demand an apology? Write a strongly-worded letter to my mother?"
Legolas didn't respond with words. Instead, he reached out, swift as a shadow, scooped up the remaining fish bones from the ground, and with a look of calculated mischief, flung them right back at her.
Xena dodged most of it but still got a few scales and bits of fish splattered on her. Her eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, they both stood there, chest heaving, eyes locked in a silent challenge. Then, without another word, Xena grabbed a towel, a bar of soap, and her belongings and stalked off towards the river, her steps quick and determined.
Legolas, of course, followed, equally intent on not letting her get the last word. "This is ridiculous!" he called after her. "You're going to the river to wash off fish bones that you threw at me in the first place!"
"Ridiculous?" Xena shot back, not slowing her pace. "I'll show you ridiculous!"
They reached the riverbank, the moonlight reflecting off the gently rippling water. Without hesitation, Xena threw down her towel and soap and began stripping out of her clothes. Legolas, still annoyed and now somewhat taken aback by her swift disrobing, hesitated for only a moment before following suit.
"You really can't handle a little fish, can you?" Xena taunted as she waded into the cool water, the ripples breaking against her legs.
"And you really can't handle not making a mess, can you?" Legolas retorted, stepping into the river beside her, his own clothes now in a heap on the bank. The cold water was a shock to both of their systems, but neither showed it. They were too caught up in their argument.
As they washed, the tension between them didn't dissipate; it only seemed to escalate. They both scrubbed furiously at their skin, each trying to outdo the other in sheer determination.
"You know," Xena began, her tone teasing, "for someone so concerned with grace, you're awfully clumsy when you're mad. Is this really the best you've got, Legolas?"
The elf shot her a glare, his cheeks flushing slightly. "And you, for someone so fond of fish, are awfully sensitive about your cooking. I never thought I'd see the day when a warrior resorts to throwing fish bones like a child!"
"At least I can cook, you overgrown wood sprite!" Xena shot back, splashing him playfully but with a bit too much force.
The splash caught Legolas full in the face, and he sputtered, wiping the water from his eyes. In retaliation, he splashed her right back, but it was more than just a splash. He aimed to catch her off-guard, and succeeded. Xena slipped on a smooth stone underfoot, and with a yelp, she flailed her arms wildly to regain her balance. But instead of falling alone, she grabbed onto Legolas, pulling him down with her.
The next thing they knew, they were both submerged in the water, coming up sputtering and gasping for air. Legolas tried to regain his footing but slipped again, this time crashing into Xena. The two of them ended up tangled in the shallow water, floundering around in a rather undignified manner.
When they finally managed to stand, dripping wet and with their dignity in tatters, they were both glaring at each other, their breaths coming in short, annoyed bursts.
"This is all your fault!" Legolas accused, pushing his wet hair out of his face.
"My fault?" Xena countered, wiping the water from her eyes. "You're the one who can't handle a little water without turning it into a full-blown wrestling match!"
"You're the one who started it with the fish water!"
"Well, you—" Xena began, but then she stopped herself. Their argument was so absurd, so petty, that even she had to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of it all.
Seeing her laugh, Legolas couldn't help but feel the corners of his mouth twitch upwards, despite his irritation. There was something so completely ridiculous about the entire situation that it was hard not to see the humor in it.
"Truce?" Xena suggested, holding out a hand, her eyes still sparkling with mirth.
Legolas looked at her hand, then back at her face. He sighed, shaking his head in disbelief at how things had escalated. "Truce," he agreed, taking her hand in his.
But as they started to walk back to the shore, Xena couldn't resist one last playful jab. "You know, for an elf, you sure don't know how to swim very well."
"Careful, Xena," Legolas warned, though there was a hint of a smile on his lips. "Or you might find yourself back in the water."
"You wouldn't dare," she challenged, raising an eyebrow.
Legolas smirked. "Wouldn't I?"
Before she could react, he scooped her up again and tossed her back into the water with a splash. Xena came up spluttering, glaring at him, but the glare quickly dissolved into laughter.
They eventually made their way back to the riverbank, still bickering good-naturedly as they dried off and got dressed. The walk back to camp was filled with playful banter and the occasional shove, both of them clearly enjoying the lighter mood, even if neither would admit it outright.
When they finally returned to camp, still slightly damp and with their argument now turned into something more like a friendly rivalry, the rest of the company just stared at them, bewildered by the sight of the two of them laughing and bantering like old friends.
Aragorn raised an eyebrow at Legolas, his expression a mix of amusement and confusion. "What exactly happened out there?"
Legolas glanced at Xena, then back at Aragorn. "Just a small disagreement," he said, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably.
Xena grinned, throwing an arm around Legolas's shoulders. "Nothing we couldn't handle."
Elros, watching the two of them, shook his head in disbelief. "You two are like children."
"Children who smell like fish," Thalion added with a chuckle.
Legolas shot them both a withering look, but it lacked any real venom. The night's events had taken the edge off his irritation, and though he would never admit it, he found himself enjoying the banter with Xena more than he expected.
As the camp settled into a quiet rhythm for the night, the crackling fire provided the only source of light against the encroaching darkness. Xena stood near the horses, brushing her fingers through her horse's mane and offering it an apple. She had made it a habit to keep an extra apple on hand, ensuring that her steed was always well taken care of. Her horse, Chubbie, nuzzled into her hand, accepting the treat with a contented snort.
Legolas approached from behind, his footsteps nearly silent on the soft grass. He watched her for a moment, noting how she always seemed to show a tender side to her horse, a side that was rarely seen by others. He smirked slightly and teased, "I see you always have an apple for Chubbie. Do you ever save one for anyone else?"
Xena turned, raising an eyebrow at him. "Why, you jealous, elf?" she retorted, the corner of her mouth curling up in a playful smile.
Legolas shook his head, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Not jealous, merely observant. Perhaps you treat your horse better than you treat the rest of us."
Without missing a beat, Xena tossed him an apple she had been holding in her other hand. "Here, maybe this will sweeten you up," she said, her tone dripping with mock sweetness. "After all, you are just as stubborn as a horse."
Legolas caught the apple with ease, raising it to eye level. "Does this mean you see me as an equal to your horse? I should be honored," he replied, his voice tinged with sarcasm.
Xena laughed lightly, shaking her head. "Oh, don't flatter yourself, Legolas. My horse is far more agreeable than you are."
Legolas let out a soft chuckle, but his expression grew more serious as he stepped closer. "Xena, there's something else I wanted to discuss with you."
She noticed the shift in his demeanor and her smile faded. "What is it?"
Legolas hesitated for a moment, then spoke with concern lacing his voice. "I noticed your injury tonight while we were at the river. The wound... it's healing, but I saw the pain in your eyes when I threw you into the water. You're still suffering from it, aren't you?"
Xena sighed, looking away for a moment before meeting his gaze again. "It's nothing I can't handle, Legolas. It's still there, yes, and it hurts from time to time, but I'm managing. No need to worry."
Legolas frowned slightly, not entirely convinced. "It's not just the pain that concerns me. The wound was caused by a Morgul-knife, and you know as well as I do what that means. I don't want to see you taken by the darkness that blade carries."
Xena nodded, appreciating his concern. "I know the risks, Legolas. I've fought against worse, and I'm still here. The elves of Lothlórien did their best, and I'm fighting it off."
He reached into his pack and pulled out a small pouch of powder. "Take this," he said, handing it to her. "It's a medicinal powder, bitter but effective. It will help with the pain and keep the darkness at bay."
Xena took the pouch, inspecting it. "Bitter, you say? I've had worse, I'm sure."
Legolas then produced a small jar of honey from his pack, offering it to her as well. "For the bitterness. Not that you can't handle it, but a little sweetness might do you some good."
Xena smirked, accepting the honey. "What's this, Legolas? You think I need to sweeten my mood because you think I'm too edgy lately?"
Legolas gave her a wry smile, recalling their previous arguments and the incident with the honey. "Well, considering the last time you had honey, it seemed to make things... interesting. Perhaps it's a remedy we should keep handy."
Xena's eyes narrowed playfully, and she leaned closer to him. "Interesting, huh? Is that what you're calling it? Or are you still sore about me pointing out that you're still a virgin?"
Legolas's expression froze for a moment, his calm and collected facade cracking just slightly. "Xena, must you always bring that up?" he asked, his voice strained.
"Why not? It's amusing to see you get all flustered about it," Xena teased, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
Legolas sighed, clearly trying to maintain his composure. "I am not flustered, Xena. And whether or not I'm a virgin is none of your concern."
Xena laughed, her voice light and teasing. "Oh, but it is! It's fun watching you. The great Legolas, prince of Mirkwood, getting all worked up over a little teasing."
Legolas's patience finally wore thin, his cheeks tinged with the faintest hint of red. "I've had enough of this conversation," he said, turning to leave. "Goodnight, Xena."
As he walked away, Xena couldn't help but call after him, still grinning. "Sweet dreams, Legolas! Don't let the thought of honey keep you up!"
Legolas's only response was a wave of his hand, clearly dismissing her teasing as he retreated to find his usual spot for solitude. Yet, despite his best efforts to push her words aside, he couldn't help but replay the conversation in his mind, the irritation mingling with a strange, unfamiliar warmth.
Xena watched him go, the grin slowly fading into a thoughtful expression. She hadn't expected him to react so strongly, and part of her wondered if she'd hit a nerve. Still, it was hard to resist the urge to tease him—he was just too easy to rile up.
As she settled down for the night, she held the jar of honey in her hand, smiling to herself. Perhaps there was more to Legolas than she initially thought. And perhaps, in time, she might learn a few more of his secrets. But for now, she would enjoy the small victories, like making the stoic elf blush.
Legolas sat under the dim light of the stars, leaning against the rough bark of a tree, his arms crossed and his face unreadable. Yet, despite his best efforts to clear his mind and focus on the weight of his usual burdens, one particular conversation kept replaying in his head. The laughter of a certain human warrior rang in his ears like an echo that refused to fade.
"Virgin," she had called him—teased him about it, even. He exhaled sharply, the memory stirring a strange mix of irritation and embarrassment. It was not something that should bother him, not in the slightest. Elves, by nature, approached matters of intimacy with much more seriousness than mortals. Bonding with another was not something done on a whim, but rather with the deepest connection of soul and heart. And yet, tonight, it irked him.
His mind drifted back to the teasing grin on Xena's face, the way her voice had carried that playful edge. He had faced wargs, orcs, and the darkness of Mirkwood—none of those things unnerved him the way her casual comments had.
"Why does it bother me?" he muttered to himself, his fingers idly brushing the smooth wood of his bow. He thought of Aragorn, who, despite having feelings for Arwen, had yet to bond with her. It was not a subject either of them spoke of often, but it was understood—natural even. So why did Xena's words weigh on him so?
Perhaps it was because she carried herself so differently. Xena had lived multiple lifetimes in a world far removed from this one. Her demeanor, her openness about her past and her nature—it was all so foreign. And now, for some reason, her words had become a distraction he couldn't shake. He found himself wondering more about her—about her world, about how different things must have been there. Her warrior's spirit was obvious, but what drove her? What kept her going through all these lifetimes?
He shook his head, trying to banish the thoughts. Focus. He had more important things to dwell on—his mother, the threat of Sauron's forces, the message to deliver to Rivendell. And yet, here he was, caught up in something so trivial. It was unlike him. Legolas clenched his jaw, frustrated with himself for letting something so small take up so much space in his mind.
Meanwhile, Xena lay stretched out on her bedroll near the campfire, her arms tucked behind her head and a smug smile on her face. She had noticed the elf's reactions throughout the evening, and it gave her a certain satisfaction. Not that she wanted to cause him real discomfort—well, not much. But there was something about riling Legolas that felt like a victory in itself. His usual stoic demeanor made any hint of fluster on her part feel like an accomplishment.
"Got him good tonight," she thought with a grin, rolling onto her side. "The great prince of Mirkwood, thrown off by a little teasing."
She didn't fully understand why she enjoyed teasing him so much—maybe because he was always so controlled, so composed, and so high-and-mighty at times. It was like cracking through the armor of an untouchable warrior, revealing that there was more underneath all that elven grace and skill. And perhaps, she admitted to herself, it also gave her a little satisfaction to break through his pride. She had her moments of pride too, and it made them more alike than either of them probably wanted to admit.
But tonight, her victory over him felt a bit sweeter. He hadn't quite known how to handle the accusation, had he? Xena chuckled softly to herself, imagining the internal conflict that must have been brewing within him. She didn't mind that he was a virgin—honestly, she didn't care either way. But the fact that it had rattled him? That was worth its weight in gold.
She closed her eyes, fully expecting to challenge the elf with something else in the morning. There was a strange dynamic between them, something that had evolved over time—from initial distrust and irritation to something resembling a strange, competitive friendship. If you could call it that. Every day was a battle of wits, and every night felt like a truce. But both knew that the teasing, the arguing, and the banter wouldn't end. It was their way of communicating, after all.
As dawn began to creep across the sky, neither of them had slept well. Legolas, troubled by thoughts of Xena's comments, found himself restless, unable to escape the whirlwind of unnecessary contemplation. Xena, on the other hand, felt an odd sense of excitement bubbling up inside her, eager to see what would unfold between them today.
The air was thick with the unspoken tension of their unresolved argument from the night before, but neither was willing to address it head-on. Not yet.
And so, the morning began as it usually did—Xena with her playful smirk, Legolas with his unreadable expression, and the inevitable clash of their words lingering just beneath the surface. They might not admit it to each other, but there was something in these exchanges that neither of them was willing to let go of. Something that, in its own way, kept them moving forward together, whether they liked it or not.
((Upcoming Chapter Thirty - Eight))
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