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 38: Tharbad's Passage

Tharbad, August 24th 3018 T.A.

As dawn began to break, the first light of the day cast a gentle glow over the camp. The air was crisp, filled with the quiet sounds of nature slowly waking. Aragorn stirred from his bedding, stretching as he took in the peaceful surroundings. The camp was still, with only the faintest movements indicating that the others were still asleep. However, as he looked around, he quickly noted the absence of two members of the company: Legolas and Xena.

This wasn't unusual for Legolas, who often preferred the solitude of nature over the confines of the camp. But Xena, who typically rested with the group, was also missing. Aragorn quickly packed his belongings, moving with the quiet efficiency that years of being a ranger had instilled in him. As he finished, a faint sound caught his attention—a low, rhythmic clashing of metal, distant but distinct.

Following the sound, Aragorn walked a few steps away from the camp towards a small clearing near the river. The area was rocky, dotted with a few resilient plants that clung to life in the cracks and crevices. Here, he found the source of the noise. Legolas and Xena were engaged in a friendly competition, using the rocks as targets. Legolas, his bow in hand, released arrows with effortless precision, each one finding its mark. Xena, not to be outdone, hurled her Chakram with equal skill, the circular weapon slicing through the air before striking the target with a satisfying clang.

Aragorn paused, watching them with a mix of amusement and mild exasperation. Their dynamic was certainly unique, a blend of competition and mutual respect that had developed over the course of their journey. He shook his head slightly, recalling the heated exchange from the previous night, choosing to keep his thoughts to himself as he prepared to return to camp.

As he turned to leave, he was met by Elros, who had also risen early. The elf's face was set in a serious expression, his brow furrowed as he watched the scene in the clearing. It was clear from the tension in his stance that he had something on his mind.

"They're at it again," Elros remarked, his voice low but edged with disapproval. "It's becoming a pattern. Legolas is letting this human's influence sway him. He's not following protocol, not allowing us to do our duty."

Aragorn, sensing the gravity of Elros' concerns, stepped closer. "Legolas has always valued the freedom to choose his own path," he replied, his tone measured. "He's a prince, yes, but he's also a warrior with the right to decide how he lives and who he befriends. We're here to protect him, not to restrict him."

Elros' expression tightened. "He is the prince of the Woodland Realm, Aragorn. That title carries weight, whether he acknowledges it or not. If we were in Mirkwood, this human—" he paused, his voice dropping lower, "—this human would be in prison for the way she speaks to him, for the way she treats him. Legolas has changed, and not for the better. His friends, his companions, they are no longer elves. Soon enough, he'll be best friends with a dwarf," Elros added, his voice dripping with irony.

Aragorn's eyes narrowed slightly as he considered Elros' words. He understood where the elf was coming from; Elros was raised with the strict hierarchies and traditions of Mirkwood, where the royal family was revered and protected above all else. To see Legolas not only consorting with humans but allowing them to challenge and even insult him was likely incomprehensible to someone like Elros.

They turned back towards the camp, as they walked back, the sound of metal clashing against stone echoed faintly in the distance. "Elros," Aragorn began, his tone firm but calm, "Legolas has always walked his own path. When he left Mirkwood and joined me and the rangers of the north, he chose a life beyond the borders of his realm. He's learned to see the world through different eyes, and to value different things. Thranduil himself had no issue with our friendship. So why should this friendship with Xena be any different?"

Elros sighed, clearly struggling with his thoughts. "Because you, Aragorn, are not just any human. You were raised in Rivendell, you're a part of Lord Elrond's family. And more than that, you are a direct descendant of Isildur, the last High King of both Arnor and Gondor. You are of noble blood, with a destiny that even the elves recognize. How can that be compared with a mere human maiden?"

Aragorn's gaze hardened slightly, though he kept his voice even. "Be careful, Elros. What you think and what you say are two different things. If you have concerns about Xena, keep them to yourself. Neither she nor Legolas would appreciate such opinions. And if you care for Legolas as you claim, you will respect his choices."

Elros looked away, a troubled expression on his face. He knew Aragorn was right, but the struggle between his loyalty to Legolas and his adherence to tradition was evident. The silence between them grew heavy as Elros grappled with his thoughts, the early morning light casting long shadows across the ground.

The journey had indeed transformed in ways none of them had anticipated. From the shadowed depths of Mirkwood to the broad expanses of the North-South Road, the company that once traveled together out of duty had evolved into something more complex, a blend of respect, camaraderie, and tension.

In the beginning, the company of elves assigned to Legolas had been a stoic, formal group. They had known their prince and respected him deeply, but friendship had never been part of their bond. They were there to protect him, not to engage in idle conversation or to question his orders. The early days of their journey were marked by silence, each elf moving in sync with the others, but always maintaining a certain distance.

Then Xena entered the picture, a human with a mysterious past and an attitude that defied the traditional norms of elf-human interactions. Elros, like Legolas, had been wary of her at first, ready to strike at a moment's notice if she showed even the slightest hint of betrayal. The other elves felt the same; their loyalty to Legolas was unquestionable, and they saw Xena as a potential threat.

But Legolas, to their surprise, never gave the command to strike. He observed Xena, tested her, and ultimately chose to keep her close. This decision baffled Elros and the others, who were bound by the protocols of their culture. A human treating an elven prince with such familiarity—such irreverence—was unheard of. But as they continued their journey, the group began to change. The rigid formality that had once defined their interactions softened, and a new dynamic emerged.

They were no longer just a company on a mission; they were comrades facing danger together, sharing meals, stories, and even arguments. Elros, despite his reservations, found himself growing accustomed to the human's presence, though he never fully embraced it. The camaraderie that developed among them was something he had not experienced in eons, and it unsettled him. Aragorn was right—Legolas was seeing the world beyond Mirkwood, and that vision was altering the very nature of their mission.

But Elros could not shake the teachings of his long life. The respect and reverence he had for the royal family of Mirkwood ran deep, and he found it difficult to reconcile this new way of interacting with the prince he had sworn to protect. Even as the days lightened with laughter and shared experiences, he knew that when they returned to Mirkwood, he would have to report everything to Thranduil. And how could he explain that the prince had been so influenced by a human, even if she had proven herself in battle?

As Aragorn and Elros continued their conversation, it became clear that Aragorn would always stand by Legolas. The ranger, having traveled the world and seen much, valued the bonds forged in battle and hardship over the rigid hierarchies that Elros clung to. Aragorn spoke of Legolas' independence, his strength, and the importance of allowing him to make his own choices, even if those choices went against tradition.

Elros, though respectful of Aragorn's views, could not fully agree. "It's not just about following orders, Aragorn. It's about what is proper, what is right. Legolas is not just any elf—he is the prince of the Woodland Realm. His actions reflect on his people, on his father, and on all of us. And this human… she treats him as if he were no more than a common warrior."

Aragorn responded calmly, understanding Elros' perspective but also seeing the larger picture. "You're right, Elros. Legolas is a prince, and that title carries weight. But it also carries the burden of leadership, of making decisions that may not always align with tradition. He is more than just a prince; he is a warrior, a friend, and a free spirit. We must trust him to find his own way, even if that means forging bonds with those who are different from us."

Their conversation was interrupted when Xena appeared, her expression cold and sharp as she approached them. She had overheard enough of the discussion to understand Elros' reservations, and it was clear that she was not pleased. Her hand rested on the hilt of her sword, and there was a fire in her eyes that spoke of her readiness to defend herself.

"If you have a problem with me, Elros," she said, her voice low and dangerous, "you can take it up with the tip of my sword. I'm not here to be looked down on by anyone."

Aragorn quickly stepped between them, his hand gently but firmly pulling Xena back. "This is not the time or place for this, Xena. We have bigger things to worry about."

Xena's gaze remained locked on Elros for a moment longer before she relented, stepping back but not lowering her guard. Elros, for his part, chose to walk away, not wanting to escalate the situation further. The tension in the air was thick, but the confrontation had been avoided—for now.

As Elros disappeared into the shadows, Aragorn turned to Xena. "You must understand, Xena, Elros comes from a different time, a different way of thinking. He means no harm, but his loyalty to Legolas is unwavering, and he struggles with the changes he sees."

Xena still bristling with anger. "I'm not here to be anyone's servant, Aragorn. I'm here because I have my own reasons. I don't care what Elros thinks of me."

"Perhaps," Aragorn said, his voice gentle, "but for the sake of the journey, it would be wise to find common ground. Elros is not your enemy, and neither is Legolas. We're all on the same side."

Xena looked away, her expression softening slightly. "I suppose you're right. But that doesn't mean I have to like it."

"No," Aragorn agreed, "you don't. But we all have to work together, and that means respecting each other, even when it's difficult."

The conversation ended on that note, the unspoken agreement to let the matter rest for now. Xena and Aragorn returned to the camp, where Legolas was still gathering his arrows. There was a tension in the air, but also a sense of resolution. The road ahead was long, and there would be more challenges to face.

Elros, meanwhile, kept his thoughts to himself. He knew that he would have to reconcile his beliefs with the reality of their journey, but it would not be easy. He would follow Legolas' commands, but he could not change who he was or the principles that had guided him for centuries. And when the time came to report back to Thranduil, he would do so with honesty, even if it meant facing difficult questions.

The morning light filtered through the trees, casting long shadows as the company began to stir. Legolas had returned to the camp, his face set in a calm expression, though his eyes were sharp with vigilance. The group moved efficiently, packing up their belongings and preparing for the day's ride. Their journey had been long and fraught with danger, and today was no different.

The Fords of Tharbad loomed ahead, a place where the ancient road crossed the river Gwathló. It was there that the company would part ways with Aragorn. He would take the Greenway north to Bree, while the rest of the company would continue eastward along the Bruinen River, heading toward Rivendell.

Breakfast was a quick affair, consisting of dried fruit, lembas bread, and water. The mood was somber and tense; the eerie feeling that had settled over them was palpable. They rode in silence, the only sounds being the rustling of leaves in the wind and the steady clopping of their horses' hooves on the worn road. The Fold of Tharbad was known for its desolation, and it was here that the company felt the weight of unseen eyes upon them.

Xena was the first to notice that they were being watched, though she said nothing at first. Her eyes scanned the surrounding landscape, noting the subtle shifts in the underbrush and the occasional glint of metal that betrayed the presence of armed men. The others had sensed it too, their hands instinctively moving to their weapons as they rode on.

It didn't take long before the attack came. From the ridges above, a volley of arrows and spears rained down upon them. The company reacted swiftly, urging their horses into a gallop as they sought cover. Legolas was already on the move, his keen eyes spotting the source of the attack. He drew his bow, loosing an arrow that struck one of the attackers squarely in the chest, sending him tumbling from his perch.

The Dunlendings, wild men of the hills, descended upon them with fierce war cries. These were not the mindless orcs they had fought before; these were skilled warriors, hardened by years of survival in the harsh lands. Their leader, a tall man with braided hair and fierce eyes, led the charge with a massive axe in hand. His name was Morwen, a chieftain known for his brutal tactics and unyielding determination.

Xena dismounted quickly, drawing her sword and chakram as she faced the oncoming attackers. She moved with the fluid grace of a seasoned warrior, her chakram whirling through the air to strike down two Dunlendings before returning to her hand. Her sword met the blade of another attacker, a burly man named Haldor, whose strength was matched only by his ferocity. They exchanged blows, the clash of metal ringing out as they fought.

Legolas, fighting alongside Xena, fired arrow after arrow with deadly precision, each shot finding its mark. But the Dunlendings were relentless, pressing the attack with a ferocity that belied their numbers. The elf's movements were swift and precise, his twin daggers flashing in the morning light as he engaged in close combat when the enemy drew near.

Aragorn, wielding his sword, met Morwen in single combat. The chieftain's axe swung down with incredible force, but Aragorn parried the blow, his sword dancing through the air as he pressed the attack. Morwen was a formidable opponent, his strength making him a dangerous foe, but Aragorn was equally skilled, using his agility and knowledge of battle to counter each of Morwen's strikes.

Elros and Thalion fought back-to-back, their swords flashing as they held off a group of Dunlendings trying to flank the company. Elros, though often reserved, fought with a quiet intensity, his movements deliberate and controlled. Thalion, ever the fierce warrior, fought with a ferocity that matched the wild men, his sword cutting through their ranks with precision.

Mírdan, though more accustomed to healing than fighting, held his own against a smaller Dunlending warrior named Aelfric, who attacked with a spear. Mírdan deflected the spear with his staff, using it to disarm Aelfric before delivering a swift blow that knocked the man unconscious.

The battle raged on, the air thick with the sounds of clashing steel and the cries of the wounded. Xena found herself surrounded by three Dunlendings, their leader a scarred man named Ragnor, who wielded a pair of short swords. Ragnor was fast, his blades cutting through the air with deadly speed, but Xena was faster. She blocked one of his strikes, using her momentum to spin and deliver a kick to another attacker, sending him sprawling to the ground. Her chakram flew again, this time embedding itself in Ragnor's shoulder, causing him to drop one of his swords.

As the fight continued, the company gradually gained the upper hand. Legolas, still beside Xena, took down two more Dunlendings with his bow before turning to see Aragorn locked in a fierce struggle with Morwen. The chieftain roared in anger as Aragorn's sword cut across his chest, but he refused to back down, swinging his axe with renewed fury.

Seeing the battle turning against them, Morwen raised his hand, signaling a retreat. The Dunlendings began to pull back, their numbers dwindling as the company pressed their advantage. But as they retreated, Morwen called out to Aragorn, his voice carrying across the battlefield.

"Enough! We yield!"

Aragorn, breathing heavily from the exertion of the fight, held his sword at the ready but did not strike. He recognized the sincerity in Morwen's voice, the recognition that continuing the battle would only lead to more death. The other Dunlendings followed their chieftain's lead, lowering their weapons and stepping back.

"Why did you attack us?" Aragorn demanded his voice firm but without malice.

Morwen spat on the ground, wiping the blood from his chest. "We thought you were scouts of the Rohirrim, sent to drive us from our lands once again."

"We are no enemies of yours," Aragorn replied. "We are travelers on a journey, not soldiers of Rohan. We mean you no harm."

Morwen eyed him warily but saw the truth in his words. "Then we have no quarrel with you. But know this, ranger—our hatred for the horse-lords runs deep. If you travel further into these lands, you may not be so fortunate."

Aragorn nodded, understanding the chieftain's warning. "We will be on our way. There is no need for further bloodshed."

With that, the Dunlendings began to retreat into the hills, leaving the company to tend to their wounded and regroup. The battle had been fierce, but it ended with a truce of sorts, an uneasy understanding between two groups who had no desire for further conflict.

As the company gathered, Xena glanced at Legolas, who was already checking his arrows and ensuring that they were all accounted for. "Not the kind of fight I was expecting," she remarked, wiping blood from her sword.

"Nor I," Legolas replied, his voice calm as always. "But we prevailed, and that is what matters."

The company set about tending to their wounds and gathering what supplies they could salvage from the skirmish. The tension that had been so palpable before the battle had dissipated, replaced by a shared sense of accomplishment. They had faced the Dunlendings and emerged victorious, and now, they would continue their journey toward Rivendell, knowing that the road ahead would bring even greater challenges.

As the sun began its ascent into the sky, the time had come for the company to part ways with Aragorn. The ranger stood tall and resolute, his keen eyes taking in the members of the company one last time. Legolas was the first to approach him, and their exchange was one of silent understanding and mutual respect. The friendship between the two was deep, forged through countless battles and shared experiences, and the parting was bittersweet.

Legolas extended his hand, which Aragorn grasped firmly. "Until we meet again, mellon nin," Legolas said, his voice low but steady. "May your path be safe, and may you find what you seek."

"And you, Legolas," Aragorn replied, his gaze steady. "Take care of yourself and your company. Rivendell awaits."

They shared a moment of silence, each reflecting on the uncertainty of their next meeting. With a final nod, Legolas stepped back, allowing Xena to approach.

Xena and Aragorn had known each other for only a short time, but in that brief span, a bond of trust had formed between them. She extended her hand to him, and as he took it, she offered a small smile. "Take care, Strider," she said, using the name she had come to know him by. "We'll meet again, I'm sure."

Aragorn returned her smile, his eyes glinting with quiet amusement. "I have no doubt, Xena. Keep an eye on the elf—he tends to find trouble more often than not."

Xena chuckled, her gaze flicking to Legolas, who stood nearby. "Oh, I'm well aware of that. I'll do my best."

With that, she released his hand, and Aragorn gave a final nod to the rest of the company. Elros, Thalion, and Mírdan each bid him farewell, their farewells brief but sincere. As the ranger turned to leave, he paused and glanced back one last time. "Safe travels, all of you," he called out, his voice carrying over the wind. "May the stars guide you to Rivendell."

With that, Aragorn turned and began his journey north along the Greenway, his figure slowly disappearing into the distance. The company watched him go, a somber silence settling over them as they realized that the road ahead was theirs to face alone.

Once Aragorn was out of sight, Legolas took a deep breath and turned to the others. "Let us continue," he said, his tone commanding but gentle. "We still have a long way to go."

The company mounted their horses, and with one last look at Tharbad, they set off along the river Bruinen. To the west, the lands of Cardolan stretched out, remnants of an ancient kingdom now faded into memory. To the east lay Eregion, a region with a history steeped in Elven lore and the legacy of Celebrimbor, who once forged the Rings of Power.

The path along the river was serene, the water flowing gently beside them as they rode. The journey was quiet at first, each member of the company lost in their thoughts. The landscape was a blend of rolling hills and ancient forests, with the occasional ruins of long-abandoned settlements dotting the horizon. It was a place where history seemed to linger in the air, a reminder of the ages that had passed and the challenges that lay ahead.

As the day wore on, the company fell into a comfortable rhythm. Xena, who had been riding near the back, moved up to join Legolas at the front. The two rode side by side in companionable silence for a time, the elf's sharp eyes scanning the landscape for any signs of danger.

Eventually, Xena broke the silence. "How long until we reach Rivendell, do you think?"

Legolas glanced at her, his expression thoughtful. "If we continue at this pace, we should reach the valley in thirdteen days. The path is not as perilous as others we've crossed, but we must remain careful."

They rode on in silence, the bond between them growing stronger with each passing mile. The road ahead was long, and the dangers were far from over, but for now, they were united in purpose and trust. Together, they would face whatever lay ahead, knowing that Rivendell awaited them with the promise of refuge and wisdom.

((Upcoming Chapter Thirty - Nine))

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