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 39: Uninvited Guest & Nightmare's Embrace

Cardolan, August 24th 3018 T.A.

The company continued their ride along the river Gwathló, maintaining a slow, steady pace. The landscape of Cardolan, a realm once part of the Dúnedain kingdom of Arnor, now lay in ruins, a shadow of its former self. The land bore the scars of past battles and the plague, with scattered villages clinging to survival amidst the threat of orc attacks. As they rode, the silence between them grew heavy, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves or the distant cry of a bird.

Xena, riding alongside Legolas, leaned in slightly, her voice low but clear. "We're being followed," she whispered.

Legolas nodded, his keen senses already aware of the presence trailing them. "I noticed," he replied, his eyes scanning the path ahead and the dense thickets on either side.

Elros, ever vigilant, had also picked up on the subtle signs of pursuit. He urged his horse closer to them, his gaze sharp. "Someone is following us," he confirmed, his tone filled with caution.

As if on cue, a figure emerged from the underbrush, stumbling onto the narrow path before them. It was a young woman, likely in her early twenties, her long blond hair matted and her once-elegant dress now torn and dirty. Her face bore the grime of days spent in hardship, yet despite her disheveled appearance, there was an alertness in her pale green eyes that didn't match her apparent state of distress.

The company halted, exchanging puzzled glances. Elros was the first to speak, his voice laced with authority. "Who are you, and why were you following us?"

The young woman hesitated, glancing nervously at each of them before responding. "My name is Nyrin," she said, her voice soft but steady. "I have been following you since you left Tharbad this morning. I saw you with that man—the ranger—when you bid him farewell. I overheard that you were headed to Rivendell."

Xena frowned, skeptical. "If you needed help, you could have approached us. Why follow us in secret?"

Nyrin shifted uncomfortably, her eyes dropping to the ground. "I… I didn't know if you'd help me. I was captured by Dunlendings while washing clothes by the river. They took me to their camp, but when you fought them, I managed to escape." Her words were rushed, as if she was trying to convince not just them, but herself as well.

Mírdan studied her closely, his expression unreadable. "You wish to return to your town?"

Nyrin nodded quickly. "Yes. It's not far, just beyond the Angle. I thought if I could follow you, you might protect me from any danger along the way."

The company exchanged wary looks. While Nyrin's story seemed plausible, there was something about her that didn't sit right with Xena. Despite her appearance, Nyrin bore no signs of injury or even the faintest bruise. Her clothes were torn, yes, but she seemed far too composed for someone who had just escaped captivity.

Legolas, ever pragmatic, made a swift decision. "We'll camp early today," he announced, addressing the group. "Nyrin can clean up and rest. We'll continue our journey at dawn, and she will ride with us until we reach her town."

Elros looked displeased, his brows knitting together in concern. "We've already delayed our journey enough, Legolas. Our mission is to reach Rivendell, not to escort stray travelers."

Legolas's gaze remained firm. "We cannot abandon her, Elros. One more day will not make a significant difference."

Xena, still unconvinced of Nyrin's story, remained quiet. Though she didn't voice her suspicions, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. However, the thought of an early camp and the chance to catch some fish was enough to keep her from arguing.

The group continued on for a short while until they found a suitable spot to make camp near the river. As they dismounted and began setting up, Nyrin busied herself with washing in the cool waters, her demeanor cautious but relieved.

Elros, still uneasy about the situation, kept a close watch on her, while Xena, ever the pragmatist, went off in search of fish. The company settled in, their thoughts divided between the growing unease of their journey and the mystery of the young woman now traveling with them.

Nyrin had spent some time by the river, washing her face in the cold water and trying to make herself look more presentable, though her torn and dirty outfit still bothered her. As the evening settled in, the company gathered around the fire for a warm meal, each member lost in their own thoughts or tasks. They sharpened their weapons, cleaned their gear, and kept mostly to themselves, offering Nyrin little more than passing glances.

Xena, true to her habits, had caught some fish earlier in the day, and Nyrin eagerly chose to eat the fish, seemingly enjoying the taste. However, the lack of conversation around the fire soon began to bore her. She glanced around, hoping for someone to engage her in conversation, but the elves remained focused on their tasks, not giving her the attention she was used to receiving.

In her small town of Dathen (a name she hadn't yet shared), Nyrin was accustomed to being the center of attention, admired for her beauty and charm. But here, surrounded by stoic elves and a quiet, battle-hardened woman, she found herself feeling overlooked and irrelevant. She started muttering to herself about her clothes, lamenting how dirty and unfit they were, subtly hoping someone would offer her something better to wear.

Mírdan, who was sharpening his blade, finally glanced up at her. "Perhaps in the next town, you'll find something more suitable," he said calmly, his tone neutral. "We do not carry any extra gowns with us."

Nyrin sighed dramatically, clearly disappointed by the lack of interest. She kept her eyes on Legolas, clearly hoping for some acknowledgment from the elf prince, but Legolas remained focused on his bow, meticulously checking the tension of the string and the condition of his arrows. His silence only seemed to frustrate her more.

Finally, Xena, who had been listening to Nyrin's complaints with growing irritation, got up and rummaged through her belongings. She pulled out a simple gown she had acquired along the journey and tossed it to Nyrin without much ceremony. "It's not much, but it should be enough to make you shut up," Xena said bluntly.

Nyrin caught the gown, looking it over with a mixture of relief and disdain. "Thank you," she said, though her tone suggested she was less than impressed with the offering. She stood up and walked away from the fire to change, still muttering under her breath about how poor the dress looked.

As Nyrin disappeared into the shadows to change, the company exchanged brief glances, some of them smirking at Xena's no-nonsense approach to the situation. Mírdan returned to his blade, and the others resumed their quiet tasks, all too familiar with how Xena handled such annoyances.

Xena sat back down, her expression one of mild amusement mixed with exasperation. "She's got a lot to learn if she thinks this is a trip to a palace," she muttered, more to herself than anyone else.

Legolas, without looking up from his bow, allowed himself the faintest hint of a smile. "Some learn quickly, others not at all," he said, his voice low and calm. His words carried a wisdom that Xena couldn't help but acknowledge, even if she didn't respond.

As Nyrin returned to the fire in the gown Xena had given her, the conversation around the campfire remained sparse. Nyrin, though slightly mollified by her new attire, still couldn't seem to draw the attention she craved. The company continued to prepare for the night ahead, each member lost in their thoughts, while Nyrin sat quietly, finally realizing that in this group, her usual charms and complaints held little sway.

The campfire crackled softly in the quiet of the evening as the company settled into their respective tasks. Nyrin, now dressed in the simple gown Xena had provided, sat nearby, trying to brush her tangled hair with her fingers. Despite her earlier complaints, she did possess a natural beauty and charm that caught the occasional glance from the others, though none lingered long enough to give her the attention she sought.

She began to speak, her tone a mix of self-pity and pride as she talked about her life in the town of Dathen. "You have no idea how hard it is, keeping a household clean, making sure everything is in its place, and still trying to look presentable," Nyrin said, her voice carrying just enough to ensure that everyone heard her. "It's a struggle every day, and a woman like me has to work twice as hard to be noticed and respected."

Xena, who had been sharpening her chakram, paused for a moment. She looked up, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in Nyrin's words. There was something off about the way the girl spoke of hardship, something that didn't quite add up. Xena had seen true hardship, lived it, and the girl in front of her didn't seem like someone who had faced any real adversity.

"Hard work, you say?" Xena's voice was calm but laced with skepticism. "You don't exactly look like someone who's seen much of it. No calluses, no scars, no dirt under your nails." Her eyes swept over Nyrin, her gaze piercing. "A woman who's truly worked hard doesn't look like you."

Nyrin's face flushed with anger and embarrassment. She wasn't used to being questioned, especially not by someone like Xena, whose entire demeanor and lifestyle seemed to clash with everything Nyrin valued. "What would you know about it?" Nyrin fired back, her tone sharp and defensive. "You're just a warrior, a woman traveling with men like some... some mercenary! How could you possibly understand the daily struggles of keeping a home, of maintaining a reputation?"

She sneered, clearly trying to insult Xena. "It's not proper, a woman like you, wandering around with men. No one would take you seriously in any decent place. I'm sure you've ruined your reputation beyond repair."

Xena's expression remained impassive. She had heard insults like this before, and they didn't faze her. She knew who she was and what she stood for. Reputation was something she had long since stopped worrying about. In her world, survival and honor came from actions, not from fitting into societal expectations.

Nyrin, noticing that her words seemed to have little effect on Xena, pressed on, hoping to provoke a reaction. "I mean, what kind of woman does that? Doesn't it bother you, what people must think of you? Or do you not care at all about your own honor?"

Legolas, who had been silently observing the exchange, finally decided to intervene. His voice was calm but carried an edge that commanded attention. "Nyrin," he began, "we are helping you reach your village out of goodwill. It would be wise for you to show some respect and gratitude rather than speak in such a manner."

Nyrin's face softened slightly, realizing she had crossed a line, but her resentment toward Xena still simmered beneath the surface. "I'm sorry, truly," she said, though her tone lacked sincerity. "I didn't mean to insult anyone, but it's just... unusual, that's all. A woman like her, with men like you... people talk."

Her insistence on the topic made the elves uncomfortable. They weren't used to such blunt conversations about reputation and propriety, especially not from a human woman who had forced her way into their company. Thalion, who was seated near Mírdan, leaned over and muttered quietly, "Traveling with humans is certainly... enlightening, especially the women."

Mírdan nodded slightly, trying to hide a smirk as he continued sharpening his blade. The tension in the camp was palpable, and everyone seemed to be waiting for the next move.

Legolas, attempting to defuse the situation, spoke again, but this time Xena cut him off with a gesture. Her patience had worn thin, and she didn't need the elf to fight her battles. Standing up, she walked over to where Nyrin sat, towering over the seated woman. Her presence was intimidating, her eyes sharp and cold.

"Let me make this clear," Xena said, her voice low and dangerous, each word carefully measured. "I don't care about your notions of propriety or what you think is right or wrong for a woman. But if you keep running that mouth of yours, you'll find my fist meeting your face. And trust me, you won't like that."

Nyrin's eyes widened in fear, and she instinctively shrank back. The venom in Xena's words was unmistakable, and for the first time, Nyrin seemed to grasp that she was dealing with someone far beyond her understanding. She stammered an apology, her bravado fading quickly.

"I... I didn't mean..." Nyrin tried to find the right words, but Xena's glare silenced her. She simply nodded, her anger giving way to a mixture of fear and shame.

Xena held her gaze for a moment longer before turning on her heel and walking back to her spot near the fire. She picked up her chakram and resumed sharpening it, as if nothing had happened. The camp fell into an uneasy silence, the only sound the crackling of the fire and the occasional rustle of the wind through the trees.

Legolas, who had watched the entire exchange, kept his thoughts to himself. He knew better than to intervene when Xena was like this. She had handled the situation in her own way, and despite the tension, it had been effective. He returned to his task, though he couldn't help but feel a twinge of amusement at how quickly Nyrin had been put in her place.

The evening continued with the company focusing on their preparations for the night. Nyrin, now thoroughly humbled, remained quiet, her earlier bravado completely extinguished. The lesson had been learned, and she wasn't likely to challenge Xena again anytime soon.

The night settled over the camp, casting long shadows from the flickering campfire. The company had gathered to sleep, each member finding their place to rest. However, the peace was quickly disrupted by Nyrin, who, despite having calmed down after her earlier confrontation with Xena, was now fixated on the matter of her bedding. Mírdan had tried to assist her by offering an extra blanket, but Nyrin, accustomed to comfort, found the simple provision lacking. Her complaints, though more subdued than before, still grated on the nerves of the company.

Thalion and Mírdan exchanged glances as they rummaged through their supplies, searching for something more suitable. Elros, meanwhile, continued his silent protest by ignoring the entire situation, his thoughts clearly disapproving of the recent trend of adding humans to their group. First Xena, who had proven to be a formidable and complicated companion, and now Nyrin, a woman whose presence seemed more of a burden than a benefit. He couldn't help but wonder what had become of their mission.

Legolas, observing the growing discontent, decided to intervene. Though he valued his own space and solitude, he recognized that allowing Nyrin to continue complaining would only disturb the night further. With a resigned sigh, he moved towards his belongings, intending to offer his blankets and covers to the woman. It was a small sacrifice, considering he rarely used them, preferring to rest away from the camp in a quiet, isolated spot. He would manage without them for the night.

However, just as he reached for his bedding, a soft thud echoed through the camp. Legolas turned to see Xena standing over Nyrin, her expression a mixture of annoyance and resolution. Xena had dropped her own bedding, blankets, and covers at Nyrin's feet.

"Here," Xena said curtly, her tone leaving no room for argument. "For tonight, you can use mine."

Nyrin blinked in surprise, her earlier complaints silenced by the unexpected gesture. She looked up at Xena, confusion flickering in her eyes as she asked, "But where will you sleep?"

Xena shrugged, her voice casual as if it were of no consequence. "I'll find a way," she replied, already turning away from Nyrin.

As she walked back to her spot, her gaze shifted, almost instinctively, to where Legolas stood, his hands still holding his own blankets. There was a brief moment of unspoken understanding between them. Legolas paused, his eyes searching hers, trying to discern whether Xena had seen him preparing to offer his own bedding or if she had simply acted to quiet Nyrin. The question hung in the air between them, unasked and unanswered.

Xena's expression remained unreadable, giving nothing away. Legolas, realizing that he would not find an answer, returned his bedding to its place and turned to leave, heading towards the trees at the edge of the camp where he could seek his usual solitude.

The rest of the camp began to settle down, the tension easing as everyone prepared to sleep. Nyrin, now more subdued, accepted Xena's bedding without further complaint, though the sense of awkwardness lingered.

Xena, after gathering the few belongings she had kept out, decided that she too needed some space. The camp, with its lingering tension and Nyrin's presence, felt too close, too stifling. She packed up her things and, with a glance back at the camp, walked away, her footsteps carrying her towards the darkness beyond the fire's reach.

The night air was cool as Xena wandered through the trees, her mind turning over the events of the day. She found a small clearing near the river, a place where the sound of the water could soothe her. The stars overhead were bright, and the moon cast a silver glow on the landscape, giving her a sense of calm she hadn't felt in the camp.

Finding a spot against a large tree, she settled down, her back against the rough bark, and let out a long breath. The quiet of the night surrounded her, a stark contrast to the earlier chaos. She closed her eyes, letting the sounds of the river and the rustling leaves lull her into a state of rest.

Meanwhile, Legolas, from his own secluded spot, watched the stars as well, his thoughts drifting between the mission ahead and the strange dynamics within their group. He wondered about the woman who had joined them so suddenly and the tension she had brought with her. But more than that, he found his thoughts returning to Xena, her actions, and the questions that remained unanswered.

Xena had managed to find some rest against the rough bark of the tree, a far cry from the comfort she was accustomed to, but it was enough to carry her into sleep. The distant murmur of the river and the whisper of the wind through the leaves created a lullaby that allowed her to drift off. She understood now, in a way she hadn't before, why Legolas sought solitude each night. It wasn't simply a desire to be alone; there was something more to it, something she had yet to uncover. Tonight, though, she was grateful for her own space, away from the incessant complaints of Nyrin.

Her sleep was restless, broken by discomfort and the odd noises of the night. It was a few hours before dawn when a strange sound pulled her from the shallow slumber. It was a deep, muffled gasp, almost as if someone was struggling for breath. The sound came and went, soft at first, then more distinct, and she knew it wasn't a mere trick of the night. Something—or someone—was suffering nearby.

Xena blinked her eyes open, peering into the darkness that surrounded her. The sound had faded, and she briefly considered dismissing it, but it returned, more insistent this time. Her instincts kicked in, urging her to investigate. She stood, brushing off the leaves that clung to her, and began to move towards the source of the sound.

The moonlight filtered through the trees, casting eerie shadows on the ground. The path was uneven, strewn with roots and rocks, but she moved quietly, her senses heightened. The sound grew clearer as she approached a large tree near the riverbank, its gnarled roots twisting into the earth. Behind it, nestled against the rocks, was a figure.

At first, the form was indistinct, just a shadow in the dim light, but as she drew closer, her heart skipped a beat. The figure was familiar—the clothing, the way it was curled up in pain—it was Legolas.

Xena's pulse quickened as she hurried forward. The elf was lying on his side, his body trembling slightly, his breath coming in ragged gasps. She dropped to her knees beside him, her hands moving to check for injuries. There were none, no blood or signs of a wound, but something was terribly wrong.

"Legolas," she called softly, her voice tinged with concern. He didn't respond, his eyes tightly shut, his face contorted in anguish. The stoic, unreadable expression he so often wore was gone, replaced by one of torment. It was as if he were trapped in a nightmare, one so consuming that it held him in a vice-like grip.

Xena shook him gently at first, then more urgently. "Legolas! Wake up!"

But he remained unresponsive, his breath hitching as though he were on the verge of breaking. She could see the sweat beading on his forehead, the way his body tensed and then convulsed with each wave of whatever horror his mind was locked in. She had never seen him like this—vulnerable, lost, and in so much pain.

She grabbed his shoulders, pulling him into a sitting position against the tree, her voice firm as she called his name again, louder this time. "Legolas, wake up!"

The sound of her voice finally seemed to pierce the veil of his nightmare. His eyes snapped open, unfocused and wild as if he were still caught between the dream and reality. For a moment, he didn't seem to recognize her, his gaze darting around in confusion, but then his eyes locked onto hers. Recognition dawned slowly, and with it, the terror in his expression softened, replaced by a profound weariness.

Without warning, Legolas reached out, pulling her close. His arms wrapped around her tightly, as if he were afraid to let go, his breath shaky against her shoulder. Xena, taken aback, hesitated for only a second before she returned the embrace, her own arms circling him in a gentle, comforting hold. She could feel the tension in his body, the way he clung to her, as though she were the only thing anchoring him to the present.

She didn't speak, sensing that words weren't needed right now. Instead, she simply held him, her hand moving in slow, soothing circles on his back, trying to offer whatever comfort she could. It was a side of him she had never seen before—a side she wasn't sure anyone else had seen. The strong, composed elf was, at this moment, just a soul burdened by unimaginable pain.

They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, until she felt his breathing begin to steady, the frantic rhythm of his heart calming against her. Even then, she didn't pull away, allowing him to take his time to return fully from the dark place his dreams had taken him.

When he finally did loosen his grip, he didn't immediately pull back. Instead, he rested his forehead against her shoulder, drawing in a deep breath as if trying to ground himself. Xena kept her arms around him, offering silent support, her own heart aching for the suffering she had witnessed.

"It's okay," she whispered finally, her voice soft in the quiet of the night. "You're safe now."

Legolas didn't respond verbally, but his grip on her tightened briefly, a silent acknowledgment of her words. Eventually, he leaned back slightly, enough to look at her, his expression still haunted but more composed than before. His blue eyes, usually so clear and sharp, were clouded with a lingering sadness, a weight that Xena could feel pressing down on him.

"Thank you," he murmured, his voice rough and barely audible.

Xena nodded, not trusting herself to speak just yet. She searched his face, wanting to ask so many questions, to understand the depth of what he had experienced, but she knew this wasn't the time. Instead, she offered him a small, reassuring smile.

"We should get back to the camp," she said gently. "It's almost dawn."

Legolas nodded, though he made no immediate move to rise. For a few more moments, they remained where they were, sitting together in the quiet of the early morning, the nightmare still casting its shadow over them but slowly dissipating in the face of reality.

Xena had always been good at reading people, and she could sense that there was more to Legolas's nightmare than just a passing bad dream. The intensity of his fear, the way he clung to her like a lifeline, it was all too raw, too real, to be something that happened only once. She had seen men and women haunted by their pasts before, and the elf's reaction had the same feel to it—a weight that was carried night after night.

Xena understood the burden of carrying the past like a shadow, ever-present and impossible to shake. The weight of her own wrongdoings, the lives she had taken in her darker days, was something she bore with her everywhere she went. She knew, in the deepest part of her soul, that no amount of good deeds, no matter how many lives she saved or how much aid she offered, could ever truly erase the stains of her past. It was a burden she carried willingly, even as it haunted her.

Every night, she was reminded of the things she had done—the battles she had fought, the choices she had made. And every night, she faced the truth that redemption was not something that could be achieved through a single act or even a lifetime of acts. It was a constant struggle, a continuous effort to balance the scales, even though she knew deep down that the scales might never truly balance.

But despite the weight of her past, Xena chose to live. She chose to keep moving forward, to fight for those who couldn't fight for themselves, to protect the innocent and stand against the forces of darkness. She believed that this was her penance, her way of paying the price for the blood on her hands. It wasn't about seeking forgiveness—she had long since accepted that some things could never be forgiven. It was about doing what she could, while she could, to make the world a better place.

And now, seeing Legolas struggle with his own demons, she recognized in him the same weight she carried. She saw the pain in his eyes, the silent suffering that he tried so hard to hide, and it resonated with her. It was a pain she knew all too well, and she couldn't help but feel a connection to him because of it.

She had made peace with the fact that her past would always be a part of her. It was a part of her identity, a part of what made her who she was. But she also knew that it didn't define her, and she refused to let it dictate her future. She would continue to fight, continue to strive to make a difference, because that was the only way she knew how to live with herself.

As they made their way back to the camp, she kept an eye on him, watching for any signs of lingering distress. Legolas had composed himself, his face returning to the unreadable mask he often wore, but Xena could see the exhaustion in his eyes, the way he seemed slightly more withdrawn than usual. It was clear that whatever plagued his dreams wasn't something he would easily talk about, but that only made her more determined to help him.

Back at the camp, the others were beginning to stir, unaware of what had just transpired. Xena kept her distance from Legolas, giving him the space he seemed to need, but she didn't stop thinking about it. There was a part of her that wanted to demand answers, to force him to share what was troubling him, but she knew better. Legolas was proud, just like she was, and he wouldn't open up unless he was ready.

For now, she would bide her time, offering support in small ways, like she had done tonight. But she wouldn't let the matter drop. Legolas was a friend, and she had a deep-seated need to protect those she cared about. She could be stubborn, but in this, her stubbornness was her strength. She wouldn't let him face his demons alone, not if there was something she could do to help.

As they packed up the camp and prepared to move on, Xena made a silent promise to herself. She would find out what haunted the elf's dreams, and when she did, she would do whatever she could to help him. They might argue and clash, but that didn't change the fact that they were allies—and friends. And Xena wasn't the kind of friend who walked away when things got tough. She was the kind who stayed, who fought for those she cared about, no matter how difficult the battle. This would be no different.

((Upcoming Chapter Fourty))

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