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 40: Back to Safety, Back to Comfort

Cardolan, August 25th 3018 T.A.

The morning began with the camp stirring to life as the first rays of dawn broke through the trees. The company worked efficiently to undo the camp. The bedrolls were tightly rolled, blankets folded and tucked away in saddlebags, while the remnants of the fire were carefully doused, leaving no trace of their stay. Each member of the group attended to their tasks in near silence, with a practiced ease that spoke of many mornings spent in similar routines.

Xena moved with purpose, securing her belongings and making sure her horse, Chubbie, was ready for the day's ride. Nearby, Mírdan and Thalion were busying themselves with the last-minute preparations, ensuring their weapons were sharp and their packs were secure. Elros was quietly inspecting the area, making sure nothing had been left behind that could betray their presence to unfriendly eyes. Legolas, with his usual grace, ensured his horse was ready, his face calm and composed, a stark contrast to the troubled expression he'd worn the previous night.

As they gathered by the horses, ready to mount and set off, Nyrin stood in the middle, her eyes wide with confusion. It was only then that the reality of the situation struck them—Nyrin did not have a horse. The group exchanged silent glances, the awkwardness of the situation settling over them like a heavy fog.

The silence lingered as they all tried to avoid eye contact with Nyrin, who had clearly realized the dilemma herself. She looked around, a bit embarrassed but hopeful, waiting for someone to offer her a ride. Legolas and his company remained silent, knowing full well the implications of her previous comments. Nyrin had spent much of the previous night implying how inappropriate it was for a woman to travel with men, hinting at the damage it could do to her reputation. Now, the irony of her needing to ride with one of those very men was not lost on anyone.

Xena quickly pieced together the unspoken plan. She knew what was coming and was not pleased. Her reaction was immediate and firm. "No one rides with me," she stated, her tone leaving no room for negotiation. "And definitely not her." She cast a pointed look at Nyrin, making it clear that she was not about to spend the day listening to the girl's complaints from behind her.

The elves exchanged glances, not entirely disagreeing with Xena's stance but unsure of how to resolve the situation. Nyrin, on the other hand, seemed to brighten at the prospect of riding with Xena, clearly not grasping the full extent of Xena's reluctance. The tension was thick, and it seemed like another argument was about to break out.

Before the situation could escalate, Legolas stepped in. With a calmness that seemed almost unnatural given the circumstances, he leaned down to his horse and spoke softly in Elvish. His words flowed like a song, soothing and peaceful, even managing to bring a brief moment of calm to Nyrin. The horse seemed to understand his words, nodding its head slightly as if in agreement.

Legolas dismounted with his usual grace, his movements fluid and controlled. Xena watched him, her disbelief growing with every step he took toward her. She glared at him, mouthing words of warning that he was all too familiar with by now. Still, he pressed on, stopping in front of Nyrin.

"Have you ridden a horse before?" he asked her, his tone polite but distant.

Nyrin nodded eagerly, explaining that while she didn't own a horse, she had ridden before. Legolas instructed her to mount his horse, advising her to hold onto the reins but do nothing else—the horse would follow the group on its own. Nyrin complied, looking somewhat pleased with the arrangement, clearly unaware of the discomfort her presence was causing.

But then came her inevitable question, "If I'm riding your horse, where will you ride?"

Legolas answered before she could even finish the thought. With a determined stride, he walked over to where Xena was mounted on Chubbie. Without a word, he leaped up behind her, settling into place with the ease of someone who had done this countless times. His arms came around her as he took hold of the reins.

Xena shot him a deadly serious look over her shoulder. "Do you have a death wish, elf?" she asked, her voice low and dangerous.

Legolas met her gaze with calm determination. "I am not just anyone, and I am certainly allowed to ride with you," he replied, his voice carrying the same assuredness that often drove Xena to the edge of her patience.

She rolled her eyes at his arrogance, clearly unimpressed but resigned to the situation. Legolas signaled to the others in Elvish, instructing them to ride fast and hard—his subtle way of making it clear that they were eager to be rid of their new companion as soon as possible. The company nodded in agreement, even Xena, who despite not understanding the language, could easily guess the gist of what was said.

As they rode off, the atmosphere was tense but focused. Nyrin, riding Legolas's horse, seemed content enough, unaware of the turmoil she had caused. Xena, however, could feel the elf behind her, every movement, every breath reminding her that Legolas was much too close for comfort. But for now, they had a journey to continue and an unwelcome companion to see safely on her way.

The company rode with purpose that day, their pace faster than the day before. It wasn't just because Nyrin was with them, though her presence certainly added a sense of urgency. They had lost valuable time, and Legolas was determined to make up for it. The rest of the company, except for Nyrin, shared his resolve, pushing their horses to cover as much ground as possible.

Xena could feel the steady rhythm of Chubbie's stride beneath her, but what she was more acutely aware of was the presence of Legolas behind her. The scent of summer rain mixed with a hint of mint and citrus grew stronger with every passing moment, filling her senses. She could feel his torso pressed against her back, solid and unyielding. Despite the tension between them, there was no denying the physicality of the elf—his strength was palpable. She had seen him shirtless before, had seen the lean muscles that adorned his frame, but feeling them against her now was a different experience entirely. His arms, wrapped securely around her as he held the reins, added to the sensation of controlled power. What bothered her most, however, was his scent. Unlike the others, who also smelled pleasant in that otherworldly elvish way, Legolas's scent was distinct, almost intoxicating.

The thoughts that crept into Xena's mind were unwelcome, and she silently cursed the elf for being so close. She tried to focus on the ride, on the path ahead, but her irritation grew until she finally broke the silence. "Why are you riding with me and not with Elros?"

Legolas's initial response was infuriating, delivered with that familiar infuriating calm. "So that Nyrin would have more stories to tell about you and your reputation," he said, his tone teasing.

Xena scowled, her annoyance evident, but before she could retort, Legolas leaned in closer, his lips nearly brushing her ear as he whispered, "Because I trust riding with you more than anyone else in this company."

The sincerity in his voice caught her off guard, and the words hung between them, creating an awkward silence. She could tell he meant it. The weight of his statement wasn't lost on her. She had noticed over time that their relationship had shifted—from one of mutual suspicion to something resembling respect. Trust, as Legolas mentioned, had indeed been earned on both sides. But hearing him admit it so easily, without any hesitation, made her uncomfortable. It wasn't the admission itself, but the vulnerability that it suggested. Vulnerability was not something Xena was accustomed to dealing with, especially when it came to herself.

After a few moments, Xena broke the silence again. "We need to talk," she said, her voice quieter, more serious.

Legolas glanced at her, his brow furrowed slightly in confusion. "About what?"

"Not now," she clarified. "But the next time we camp, I have something to tell you."

Legolas nodded, his expression unreadable as he pulled her a bit closer, his arms tightening slightly around her as he continued to guide Chubbie. There was no more banter, no teasing remarks. This was different.

As they continued to ride, Xena's mind was filled with thoughts about the conversation she knew they needed to have. The trust that Legolas spoke of was real, and she knew that she couldn't keep avoiding the truth. She owed him honesty, especially now that they had come this far together.

A little later, Xena reached down and took hold of the reins, her voice firm as she reminded him, "This is my horse, and I'm the one holding the reins."

Legolas didn't argue. He released the reins, allowing Xena to take control, but his arms remained wrapped around her waist. It was a silent gesture, one that spoke of trust and an understanding that had grown between them. As they rode on, the tension between them was different now—less about annoyance, and more about the weight of what was to come.

The group had ridden for hours, pushing on relentlessly. Everyone in the company, except for Nyrin, were seasoned riders, accustomed to long journeys without frequent stops. Their pace was swift, pausing only when necessary to let the horses graze and drink from the clear streams they crossed. During one of these brief stops, they quickly ate a plant-based meal, which prompted Xena to roll her eyes in exasperation. The only solace she found was that Nyrin, too, seemed unimpressed with the lack of variety in their meals.

As they sat for their meal, Nyrin took the opportunity to tell Xena about her town, Dathen, which, like most towns in Cardolan, had been rebuilt upon ancient ruins from the Third Age. These towns were simple and unpretentious, inhabited by people who had long lost any connection to the great histories of Middle-earth. They cared little for politics, the rise of Sauron, or the encroaching orc hordes—they just wanted to live their lives in peace. Nyrin described the town's taverns with enthusiasm, claiming the food there was the best in the region. She even promised to treat the group to a meal once they reached the town safely. Xena, the only one who seemed to take her seriously, nodded in agreement, more than eager for a decent meal.

As they rode into Dathen, it was clear that the town mirrored the simplicity and carelessness Nyrin had described. People went about their business with little regard for the larger world beyond their borders. Children played in the streets, vendors peddled their goods, and townsfolk chatted idly by the market stalls. It reminded Xena of the small, provincial towns she had encountered in her own world—places where life moved slowly, unbothered by the troubles of the outside world.

The company paused in the town square, where Legolas asked Nyrin for directions to her house. They intended to escort her home, ensuring her safety before continuing on their journey. Nyrin, however, seemed reluctant, insisting that she could find her way home on her own. This only heightened Xena's suspicion. She stepped in, her tone firm, making it clear that they would accompany Nyrin to her door, even if it meant carrying her there.

Realizing she had no choice, Nyrin finally led them through the town, toward the northern side where her house was located. The house itself was charming, with a well-kept yard filled with sunflowers swaying gently in the breeze. A man, about the same age as Nyrin, sat on the porch. As soon as he saw her, he rushed over, his expression a mix of worry and relief.

"Nyrin! Where have you been? I've been so worried," the man exclaimed, clearly distressed. The company exchanged confused glances.

The man, noticing the elves for the first time, was taken aback but quickly composed himself, offering them a polite bow. "Thank you for bringing her back. Please, come inside," he invited, but Legolas declined on behalf of the group.

Legolas explained briefly what had happened, how they had found Nyrin following them and had brought her back safely. The man, whose name was Dareth, listened with growing confusion. "I'm so sorry for the trouble," he said, shaking his head. "Nyrin wasn't taken away. She has a habit of… wandering off. We've only been married a short while, and she's already done this a few times."

The revelation stunned the group. Nyrin, married? She had given no indication of such, and her behavior had certainly not suggested it. Dareth's apologetic demeanor and genuine concern for his wife contrasted sharply with Nyrin's apparent disregard for their marriage. It was clear that this was a union born of love, at least on his part, but Nyrin seemed to crave a life of adventure, one that reality could never offer her.

With an awkward farewell, the company left, still trying to wrap their minds around what had just happened. Nyrin, standing on the porch with Dareth, offered no promises that she wouldn't wander off again, but it was unlikely the group would ever hear of her or her misadventures again. And as they walked away from their house, they couldn't have been more relieved to have delivered her safely to her home, leaving behind the confusing whirlwind that was Nyrin.

Legolas, now free of his unexpected rider, let out a long breath, as did the rest of the company. Xena, riding beside him, glanced over with a slight smirk. "Well, at least that's one less thing to worry about," she muttered.

"Indeed," Legolas replied a trace of relief in his voice.

s the group left Nyrin's house behind and prepared to continue their journey to Rivendell, Xena had a different plan in mind. After days of riding, battling, and dealing with the frustrations of their journey, the thought of a decent meal, a tankard of ale, and perhaps a comfortable bed for the night was far too tempting to resist.

Without much debate, the horses were led to the nearest stable, where they would be well cared for. Xena wasted no time and headed straight for the nearest tavern, lured by the mouth-watering aroma of food wafting through the air. The rest of the company, hooded and trying to remain inconspicuous, followed her inside. They knew that their presence as elves could draw unwanted attention, but they had also learned that staying close to Xena was often necessary to keep things from spiraling out of control.

As Xena entered the tavern, she was immediately greeted by a stranger. He clearly wasn't interested in pleasantries—his intentions were obvious, and they weren't noble. Xena, not in the mood for games, responded with her signature efficiency: a swift reverse punch that sent the man sprawling across the tavern floor.

Legolas, who had been walking just behind her, paused for a moment to take in the scene. He watched as the stranger hit the ground, and then another, who apparently hadn't learned his lesson, soon followed suit. This was nothing new for Legolas; by now, he was quite familiar with Xena's temper and her readiness to dispatch anyone who crossed her. What concerned him more was the mood she was in—there was an edge to her today that even he found unsettling.

Xena, unfazed by the attention she had drawn, strode confidently to the bar and ordered a steak and an ale, her tone making it clear she wouldn't tolerate any delays. She picked a table, and with the path now cleared of the unfortunate men who had crossed her, she sat down, glaring at anyone who dared to look her way.

For the elves in her company, this was quite the spectacle. They were used to a certain level of decorum, and the sight of Xena easily taking down men twice her size and then calmly ordering a meal was both impressive and bewildering. It was a stark reminder of the differences between their worlds—Xena, who had lived a life of battle and survival, was comfortable in places and situations that would make them uneasy.

Seeing that Xena was intent on having her meal and that she was clearly not in the mood for further interruptions, the elves exchanged a few words with Legolas. They decided to head back to the stables to make sure the horses were properly attended to and would be ready to leave as soon as Xena had finished eating. They knew her well enough to understand that once her immediate needs were met, she would be ready to move on, even if she might have preferred a night in a proper bed.

Legolas remained behind, keeping a watchful eye on Xena. He knew her well enough to recognize when something was bothering her, and while she didn't show it openly, the tension in her movements and the way she dispatched those men hinted at deeper frustrations. But he also knew that she could handle herself, and so, for now, he simply kept his distance, allowing her the space she needed.

Xena, though aware that a night of rest would have been ideal, seemed content with just having a good meal. She cut into her steak with practiced precision, savoring the rare indulgence. The ale, too, was welcome, and as she drank, the tension in her shoulders slowly began to ease. Despite the chaos she often brought with her, there was something comforting about this moment—a small taste of normalcy in a world that offered little of it.

As she ate, the tavern gradually returned to its usual state, with patrons returning to their conversations and the staff going about their duties, albeit with wary glances in her direction. Legolas, standing near the door, allowed himself a brief smile. For all the trouble she caused, there was something about Xena's presence that was strangely reassuring. Even in the most unfamiliar and chaotic situations, she always seemed to know exactly what to do.

When Xena finished her meal, she rose from her seat with quiet resolve, tossing a few coins onto the table. Her earlier tension had eased, replaced by a calm determination. She headed for the exit without a glance back, her footsteps steady. Legolas silently joined her, falling into step at her side. Neither spoke as they stepped into the cool evening air, the noise of the tavern fading behind them. Together, they made their way toward the stables, the quiet between them needing no words.

As they walked, Legolas instinctively reached into his pocket, his fingers brushing against the small brooch, Lasgalen—the Little Leaf. A faint flicker of relief crossed his face as he felt its familiar shape. The brooch, his mother's gift crafted with care when he was no older than seven, remained safely with him. It was more than just an heirloom; it was a piece of her, a symbol of her enduring love and protection. Assured that it was still there, he took a steadying breath and continued on.

The company gathered near the stables, their horses saddled and ready. Though Xena might have wished for more time to rest, her resolve never faltered. She stood tall, her eyes scanning the horizon as if already anticipating the trials ahead. With a nod to the others, she mounted her horse, ready as ever to face whatever lay in wait. The journey called, and together, they rode on.

((Upcoming Chapter Fourty - One))

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