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)

ActV

Trusted Friends

Chapter 48: Between Gardens & Gowns

Imladris, September 9th 3018 T.A.

As Xena sat in the dining area of Rivendell, savoring the simplicity of bread and cheese, she allowed herself a rare moment of calm. The view outside was nothing short of breathtaking—rolling hills blanketed in emerald green, waterfalls cascading in silvery streams, and the golden light of the afternoon sun filtering through the leaves of ancient trees. The gentle murmur of conversation surrounded her, mostly elves speaking in soft, melodic tones. Here and there, she spotted a human or two, but it was clear that Rivendell was a haven primarily for the Firstborn.

Xena found herself marveling at the sheer uniqueness of this place. Unlike any city or town she had lived in, Rivendell exuded an ethereal beauty and a profound sense of peace. Even the dining area was an extension of this tranquility, with its open walls that allowed nature to be an integral part of the experience.

Her thoughts were interrupted when the murmur around her dipped in volume, drawing her attention to the entrance. She looked up and saw an elven maiden in conversation with Míresgaliel, the elf who had guided her earlier. The two seemed deep in discussion, and Xena's curiosity was piqued when Míresgaliel subtly pointed in her direction. The maiden turned to look at Xena, and for a moment, their eyes met.

Xena felt an immediate connection, a recognition that went beyond mere observation. There was something familiar in the maiden's features—the same delicate grace, the same sharp intelligence that she had seen in Elladan and Elrohir. It didn't take her long to connect the dots. This must be Arwen, the daughter of Lord Elrond.

Arwen's gaze was soft, yet there was an intensity to it, as if she could see through the layers of Xena's thoughts. It reminded Xena of Legolas, how he too had a way of looking at her that felt almost intrusive, like he could read parts of her that no one else could. She wasn't sure she liked it. The elves, with their ancient wisdom and centuries of life, were unsettling in ways she couldn't fully describe. But there was something different about Arwen, something even more penetrating, like she could see beyond what most elves could.

After a moment, Arwen picked up a plate and selected her meal, which consisted of the plant-based food typical of the Elves. She made her way to Xena's table, moving with a fluid grace that seemed to belong to another world entirely. When she arrived, she seated herself across from Xena, placing her plate on the table with a delicate touch. Her beauty was striking, not just in the conventional sense, but in a way that seemed almost otherworldly. Xena found herself momentarily speechless, unsure of how to engage with someone so far removed from the world she knew.

Arwen began the conversation with a gentle smile, her voice as soothing as a lullaby. "Mae govannen, Xena. I am Arwen Undómiel, daughter of Elrond." Her tone was polite, almost serene, as if she had all the time in the world.

Xena, still a bit taken aback, nodded slowly. "I figured as much. You look like Elladan and Elrohir. They didn't mention you, though."

Arwen's smile widened slightly, a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. "My brothers can be selective in what they share. But it is true, we are siblings. I see they have already made your acquaintance."

Xena couldn't help but chuckle softly, despite herself. "Yeah, we had a… memorable encounter."

Arwen tilted her head slightly, her gaze becoming more curious. "I have heard a great deal about you, Xena. Legolas and my brothers spoke of you, and their words piqued my interest. You are not like many we have met."

Xena raised an eyebrow, feeling a mix of surprise and skepticism. "Seems like elves talk a lot. I wouldn't have pegged them for gossip."

Arwen shook her head gently, her expression remaining warm. "We do not gossip, as you might think. Among true friends, there are no secrets. Legolas and I have known each other for many centuries. He is like a brother to me. Of course, he would speak of you."

Xena blinked in disbelief, her mind trying to wrap around the idea of such long-lived relationships. "Centuries…? Just how old are you?"

Arwen laughed softly, a sound that was both musical and comforting. "I have seen over two thousand years. Legolas is nearly a thousand himself. Our lives are long, and our friendships even longer."

Xena leaned back in her chair, staring at Arwen in awe. "Two thousand years… That's… well, that's something. And here I thought Legolas was just another elf."

Arwen's expression softened further, her eyes reflecting a depth of understanding that made Xena feel strangely comforted. "Legolas is more than just an elf. He has lived through much, as have we all. But what matters now is the present. He cares for you, Xena, more than you might realize."

Xena looked down at her plate, suddenly finding it difficult to meet Arwen's gaze. The reality of what Arwen was saying hit her harder than she expected. "He's… complicated. I'm not sure what to make of him half the time."

Arwen nodded, her gaze never leaving Xena's face. "He is, indeed. But so are you, Xena. Perhaps that is why you have found each other."

The conversation hung in the air, heavy with unspoken truths. Xena didn't respond immediately, still processing everything Arwen had said. There was a wisdom in the elf's words that resonated deeply with her, even if she wasn't ready to fully acknowledge it yet.

Arwen, sensing Xena's inner turmoil, decided to steer the conversation to a lighter note. "Rivendell is a place of healing, Xena. Take your time here. Rest, recover, and know that you are among friends."

Xena looked up, meeting Arwen's eyes once more. This time, she didn't shy away from the connection. "I appreciate that, Arwen. Really, I do."

Arwen smiled again, the kind of smile that held centuries of kindness and understanding. "We are all bound by the same fate, Xena. Remember that."

The two women sat in a companionable silence for a moment, each lost in their thoughts. For Xena, the conversation had opened doors she wasn't sure she wanted to walk through. But there was comfort in knowing she wasn't alone, even in a place as strange and beautiful as Rivendell.

As the evening light began to soften, casting a warm, golden glow over Rivendell, Xena found herself walking alongside Arwen through the gardens of Imladris. The elf maiden had insisted on the stroll after dinner, and while Xena had initially thought their encounter was over, it seemed Arwen had other plans.

The gardens of Imladris were truly a sight to behold. Ancient trees stood sentinel over paths lined with delicate flowers in every shade imaginable. Vines with blossoms of deep violet and soft pink climbed trellises, while small fountains of crystal-clear water bubbled gently, adding a soothing melody to the symphony of nature. The air was rich with the scent of jasmine and roses, mingling with the cool, earthy aroma of the forest that surrounded the Elven haven.

Arwen moved with the grace of a dancer, her every step in harmony with the world around her. She spoke softly, her voice a gentle breeze that seemed to weave in and out of the rustling leaves and singing birds. "These gardens have been tended for centuries," she said, her gaze sweeping over the vibrant greenery. "Each flower, each tree has its own story. The plants here are more than just decorations—they are a living part of our history."

Xena nodded politely, but it was clear from her expression that the intricate stories of Elven botany were not exactly captivating her. She admired the beauty, certainly, but the endless talk of flowers and their symbolic meanings began to wear thin.

Arwen, perceptive as ever, noticed Xena's dwindling interest. A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she adjusted her approach. "Of course, not all of these plants are merely for beauty. Some have practical uses—especially the herbs we cultivate for healing."

That caught Xena's attention. Her eyes narrowed slightly, the warrior's instinct in her perking up. "Healing herbs?" she asked, her tone shifting from polite disinterest to curiosity. "Now that's something I can appreciate. What kind of herbs do you grow here?"

Arwen's smile broadened, pleased to have found a subject that interested her companion. She led Xena down a path shaded by tall, ancient trees until they reached a secluded section of the garden. Here, the plants were less ornamental and more utilitarian. Rows of neatly tended herbs, each carefully labeled in flowing Elvish script, grew in abundance.

"Here we grow athelas, known to men as kingsfoil," Arwen began, gesturing to a small, unassuming plant with green leaves. "It is a powerful healer, though many do not realize its potential. In the hands of one with knowledge, it can cure many ailments, from fever to wounds poisoned by dark magic."

Xena leaned in closer, inspecting the plant with newfound respect. "Athelas... I've heard of it. Never seen the plant it up close, though." She looked at Arwen, her expression more engaged now. "What else do you have here?"

Arwen continued the tour, pointing out various herbs and their uses. She showed Xena a patch of niphredil, whose pale, star-shaped flowers were known to ease pain and bring restful sleep. Then there was elanor, a small golden flower that thrived in the shade, used to make a tonic that could invigorate the weary and strengthen the weak.

As they walked, Arwen explained the properties of each herb, weaving in tales of how they had been used in ages past. She spoke of warriors who had been saved from the brink of death by these plants, of kings and queens who had trusted the wisdom of the healers in Rivendell. Xena listened intently, absorbing the information like a sponge. Her respect for the Elves' knowledge of healing deepened with each story Arwen told.

But as much as she tried to focus on the practical knowledge Arwen was imparting, Xena couldn't shake the feeling that this walk was about more than just herbs and gardens. Arwen's presence was calming, almost disarming, and Xena found herself lowering her guard in a way she hadn't expected. The Elven maiden had a way of making her feel at ease, of making the world seem less harsh, if only for a little while.

After a while, Arwen led Xena to a quiet bench overlooking a small pond. The water was so clear that the pebbles at the bottom were visible, and fish swam lazily beneath the surface. The sun was setting now, casting a warm, orange glow over the garden, and the air was filled with the soft hum of evening insects.

They sat in companionable silence for a few moments, the peace of the place wrapping around them like a soft blanket. Xena, who was not accustomed to such quiet moments, found herself unexpectedly relaxed. It was Arwen who eventually broke the silence.

"Xena," she began, her voice gentle, "I sense there is much on your mind. These past days have been difficult for you, I know."

Xena looked at Arwen, surprised by the sudden shift in conversation. The Elven maiden's eyes were kind, but there was an undeniable wisdom in them, a wisdom born of centuries of life. It was a gaze that seemed to see right through her, down to the worries she had been trying to bury.

"I've been through worse," Xena replied, her tone guarded.

Arwen nodded slowly, not pushing but clearly not buying the deflection either. "That may be true, but even the strongest among us carry burdens that should not be borne alone."

Xena stiffened slightly, not used to discussing her feelings, especially with someone she had only just met. But something in Arwen's demeanor, in the way she spoke, made it difficult to dismiss her words outright.

"I suppose you think you know what I'm carrying?" Xena asked, a hint of challenge in her voice.

Arwen smiled softly. "I know what it is to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. To feel as though every step you take, every decision you make, could be the difference between life and death. It is a heavy burden, and one that can become unbearable if you do not allow yourself moments of peace."

Xena was silent for a moment, her gaze drifting to the pond. "I've never had much use for peace. It never lasts."

"Perhaps not," Arwen agreed. "But that does not mean it is not worth seeking. Even if only for a brief moment, a little peace can give you the strength to continue."

Xena sighed, her usual defenses feeling oddly out of place in this serene environment. "You speak as if you've lived a thousand lives."

Arwen's smile grew wistful. "Not a thousand, but I have lived long enough to see many things. To understand that the world is not black and white, and that even the strongest warriors need a place to rest."

Xena looked at Arwen then, really looked at her. "Why are you telling me this? We barely know each other."

"Because," Arwen said softly, "I see in you a kindred spirit. Someone who fights for what she believes in, who carries the weight of her past like a shield. But shields can only protect you for so long before they become too heavy to bear."

Xena's eyes narrowed slightly, not in anger, but in thought. She had spent so long running, fighting, and surviving that the idea of laying down her burdens, even for a moment, seemed almost foreign. Yet here was this ancient, beautiful being offering her a perspective she hadn't considered.

"I don't know if I can just… let it go," Xena admitted quietly. "It's all I've known."

Arwen placed a gentle hand on Xena's. "I'm not asking you to let it go, only to allow yourself to find a moment of peace here, in this place. You are among friends, Xena. Take what time you need to heal—not just your body, but your spirit as well."

For the first time in a long while, Xena felt a small crack in the wall she had built around herself. She wasn't sure if it was Arwen's words or the calming presence of the gardens, but something in her began to relax, to consider the possibility that maybe, just maybe, she didn't have to carry her burdens alone.

"Alright," Xena said finally, her voice softening. "I'll try."

Arwen's smile was warm, and for the first time, Xena saw the light of hope reflected in her eyes. "That is all anyone can ask, Xena."

They continued to sit there as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky with hues of pink and purple. For that brief moment, Xena allowed herself to breathe, to take in the beauty around her, and to consider that perhaps, in Rivendell, she could find more than just physical healing.

Xena listened quietly as Arwen guided her through the vast and impressive library of Rivendell, where Arwen had taken next. The evening light filtered through the tall, arched windows, casting a warm glow over the ancient shelves lined with countless tomes and scrolls. The scent of aged parchment and polished wood filled the air, a testament to the centuries of knowledge preserved within these walls.

Arwen spoke softly, her voice a soothing melody against the quiet backdrop of the library. "This is a place where knowledge from all corners of Middle-earth is stored," she explained. "Here, you will find writings on history, lore, and wisdom passed down through generations. Many of these texts are written in the languages of men, elves, and even dwarves."

As they walked through the rows of bookshelves, Arwen pointed out sections of interest. "This area contains records of the ancient wars, the rise and fall of kingdoms, and the tales of heroes and villains alike. If you seek to understand the world and its history, this is where you will find it."

Xena nodded, taking in the sheer magnitude of the knowledge contained within the library. She was not one to dwell on the past, but she understood the value of learning from it. There were stories here, lessons perhaps, that might aid her in her ongoing struggle to right the wrongs of her past.

Arwen continued, "Over here, you will find works on healing, written by some of the most skilled healers in Middle-earth. Elrond himself has contributed to this section, sharing his knowledge and experiences. It is a place where you can learn about remedies, potions, and the art of mending both the body and the spirit."

Xena's interest piqued as Arwen gestured to the shelves. Healing had always been a part of her journey—both giving and receiving it. She made a mental note to return to this section later, knowing that the knowledge contained within these volumes could be invaluable in her quest to help others.

As they moved further into the library, Arwen stopped in front of a tall bookshelf filled with books written in the common tongue. "These texts may be of particular interest to you, Xena. They are written in your language and cover a variety of subjects—from tales of valor and courage to philosophical musings on life and purpose."

Xena ran her fingers along the spines of the books, feeling the texture of the leather-bound volumes beneath her fingertips. She had never been one for scholarly pursuits, but there was something comforting about the idea of immersing herself in these stories. Perhaps, in these pages, she might find some semblance of understanding, or even a hint of redemption.

But as much as she appreciated Arwen's efforts to introduce her to this sanctuary of knowledge, Xena could not shake the weight of her thoughts. The lives she had taken, the destruction she had wrought—they haunted her still. She understood what Arwen had tried to convey earlier, the importance of rest and healing, but true peace? That was something she believed she was not entitled to, not after all she had done.

Arwen, sensing Xena's internal struggle, gently placed a hand on her arm. "I know that finding peace may seem impossible to you now, Xena. The past will always be a part of you, but it does not have to define your future."

Xena met Arwen's gaze, seeing the earnest concern in her eyes. She appreciated the sentiment, but she knew in her heart that the road to redemption was long and arduous, and it was one she had to walk alone. "Thank you, Arwen," she said quietly. "I will take your words to heart."

Arwen smiled gently, though there was a hint of sadness in her eyes. She knew that Xena's journey was far from over and that it would take more than kind words to ease the burden the warrior carried. But for now, she had done what she could.

As they made their way back through the library, Arwen pointed out a few more sections where Xena might find useful information. The evening had given way to night by the time they reached the entrance, and the library was now bathed in the soft glow of lanterns.

As the evening deepened and the shadows grew longer, Xena found herself trailing behind Arwen, who was still full of energy and enthusiasm. After a day spent touring the gardens, libraries, and halls of Rivendell, Xena had hoped for some respite. However, it seemed that Arwen had other plans, and as they moved through the quiet corridors, the Elven maiden led them toward the quarters of the seamstresses.

Xena stifled a groan. She had already seen more flowers and books than she cared to in one day, and now the prospect of discussing fabrics and gowns made her wish for a good, old-fashioned sparring session instead. But she bit her tongue, trying to be polite, reminding herself that Arwen was just trying to be a gracious hostess.

Arwen, on the other hand, was in high spirits. She had enjoyed Xena's company throughout the day and was eager to share more of her world with the warrior princess. In her mind, every maiden, no matter how fierce, had an appreciation for the finer things in life, and surely Xena would be no exception. The seamstresses of Rivendell created gowns of such beauty and elegance that Arwen was certain Xena would find something to her liking.

As they walked, Arwen's tone shifted to a more solemn note as they approached a prominent statue, and Xena noticed the change in her demeanor. Before them stood the Shards of Narsil, held in a place of honor. Arwen spoke softly, her voice imbued with reverence as she recounted the history of the sword. "These are the Shards of Narsil," she began, her eyes glinting with the reflection of the broken blade. "Narsil is perhaps the most famous sword in all of Middle-earth. It was broken in the final battle against Sauron at the end of the Second Age, when Elendil fell. The shards were brought here to be kept safe in Rivendell, waiting for the day when they will be reforged and the king will return."

Xena, despite her weariness, found herself intrigued. She knew enough about the legends of Middle-earth to understand the significance of the sword, though Arwen did not mention Aragorn by name. There was something deeper in Arwen's voice, a connection that Xena could sense but not fully grasp.

They continued their walk, and Arwen's tone lightened once more as she began to speak of fabrics, colors, and the joy of designing gowns. Xena's patience was wearing thin. She had already endured more "prettiness" in one day than she had in months, and now her thoughts drifted to something—anything—that would involve less lace and more action. She could feel the tension in her shoulders, and the thought of actually punching Arwen to escape this "girly" torture crossed her mind.

As if sensing Xena's rising frustration, Arwen paused and turned to look at her, a curious smile playing on her lips. Before Xena could decide how to politely (or not-so-politely) extricate herself from the situation, they turned a corner and almost bumped into Legolas.

Legolas, dressed in his usual elegant robes, had been enjoying some solitude in the peaceful groves of Imladris. The tranquility had done much to clear his mind, and he was ready to return to his chamber when he found himself face-to-face with Arwen, who seemed unusually chipper, and a very disgruntled Xena trailing behind her.

"Legolas," Arwen greeted warmly in Elvish, her mood still light from her day spent with Xena. "I see you are enjoying the evening as well."

Legolas nodded in greeting but couldn't help raising an eyebrow at the sight of Xena's clear discomfort. He replied to Arwen in Elvish, keeping his tone casual. "Indeed. But I see you've found a new companion to share your enthusiasm for Rivendell's beauty. How fares our guest?"

Arwen's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Oh, she's been wonderful company. I've shown her the gardens, and the libraries, and now, we're heading to the seamstresses. I thought she might enjoy selecting a gown."

Legolas, understanding the potential disaster of this situation, leaned slightly closer to Arwen and whispered in Elvish, "Arwen, you should be careful. If you push her too far, you might end up with a broken nose—if you're lucky."

Arwen chuckled softly, clearly not taking the warning seriously. "Oh, I think she's stronger than that. Besides, it's been ages since I've had the chance to spend time with someone new. I'm sure she's enjoying herself more than she lets on."

While the two elves conversed in Elvish, Xena, who could sense their tones but not understand their words, felt her patience reach its limit. She caught Legolas's eye and subtly gestured, trying to convey her desperation. Her expression was a mix of pleading and frustration, silently begging him to intervene and save her from another hour of discussing fabrics.

Legolas, who was not used to seeing Xena in such a predicament, found the situation both amusing and perplexing. He gave her a small, apologetic smile and responded to her silent pleas with a slight shrug, as if to say, "You're on your own with this one."

Xena's eyes widened in disbelief at his lack of assistance, and she mouthed at him, "Don't you dare leave me with her!"

Legolas, keeping up the pretense of not understanding her, turned back to Arwen, who was already looking at him with a mischievous glint in her eyes. Xena could only watch in growing frustration as the two elves shared a private joke at her expense.

Finally, unable to bear it any longer, Xena crossed her arms and huffed, "You two are impossible. You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

Legolas managed to keep a straight face as he replied, "I would never take pleasure in someone else's discomfort, Xena. But it's not every day I see you so… out of your element."

Arwen smiled warmly at Xena, her amusement tempered with genuine affection. "Come now, Xena. It's just a little diversion. You've been through much, and you deserve some light-hearted moments."

Xena rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a small grin. "If by 'light-hearted,' you mean being dragged around like a dress-up doll, then sure."

Legolas chuckled softly, finally deciding to offer her a way out. "Perhaps, Arwen, you could save the seamstresses for another day. Xena looks like she might be more in need of a sparring partner than a new gown."

Arwen, sensing that she had pushed Xena enough for one day, nodded in agreement. "Very well, I'll let you off the hook for now, Xena. But I expect you to humor me with the seamstresses another time."

Xena let out a sigh of relief, giving Legolas a grateful look before replying, "We'll see about that. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go and find something sharp to practice with."

As Xena finally made her escape, Arwen turned back to Legolas with a knowing smile. "You're lucky she didn't take your advice and break my nose."

Legolas laughed lightly, his eyes following Xena as she walked away. "She's strong, but she's not unreasonable. I'm just glad you survived the day."

Arwen watched Xena's retreating figure and nodded thoughtfully. "She's different, Legolas. There's a strength in her that's rare, even among our kind. But there's also a sadness… I hope she finds what she's looking for here."

Legolas's expression softened as he considered Arwen's words. "So do I, Arwen. So do I."

With that, the two elves parted ways, Arwen with her thoughts of gowns and fabrics, and Legolas with a newfound respect for Xena's endurance—both in battle and in navigating the intricacies of Elven hospitality.

((Upcoming Chapter Thirty - Nine))

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