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 50: Is it true?

Imladris, September 11th - 13th 3018 T.A

The days that followed settled into a rhythm, one that was both comforting and increasingly frustrating for Xena. Each morning, she found herself in the company of Arwen, the Lady of Rivendell. Together, they wandered through the gardens, discussed the various flora, and delved into ancient texts within the grand library. Arwen's presence was soothing, her wisdom gently guiding Xena through this period of healing. Yet, despite the serene environment and the calming influence of the elven maiden, Xena couldn't shake the restlessness that gnawed at her.

She made her way to the training grounds on several occasions, hoping to find an outlet for the warrior's energy that still thrummed within her. The grounds, nestled within a secluded corner of Rivendell, were surrounded by tall trees and flowering vines, their colors vibrant against the stone of the courtyard. Here, the sounds of sparring echoed softly, swords clashing and bows twanging as elves honed their skills. Xena watched as the warriors moved with an elegant precision that was unique to their kind, each strike and parry executed with a grace that bordered on the otherworldly.

But despite her desire to join them, to feel the familiar weight of a sword in her hand and the thrill of combat, she was met with gentle resistance. Elros, Thalion, and Mírdan were often present, their sharp eyes tracking her movements as she observed the training sessions. They, along with the other elves, subtly but firmly dissuaded her from participating. It was as if an unspoken agreement had been made to shield her from the strain of battle until she was fully recovered. While Xena appreciated their concern, the warrior in her bristled at the notion of being coddled.

Still, she recognized her own limitations. Her strength had not yet fully returned, and the sharp aches that occasionally radiated from her healing wound reminded her that she was not invincible. So, she refrained from pushing herself too hard, choosing instead to channel her frustration into long walks and quiet moments of reflection.

As for Legolas, the days seemed to stretch longer as he found himself drawn to her chamber each night. Initially, his visits were out of concern, a need to ensure that she was resting and recovering without incident. But as the nights passed, his reasons became less about duty and more about the rare opportunity to simply be near her. The quiet of her room, illuminated by the soft glow of the moonlight, allowed him to observe her in a way that daylight never could.

Here, in the stillness of the night, he could study the delicate curve of her features, the way her dark hair fanned out across the pillow, and the peaceful rise and fall of her chest as she slept. It was a time when he could let down the guard he so meticulously maintained during the day, a time when he could indulge in the simple pleasure of her presence without the burden of words or explanations.

Yet, unbeknownst to Legolas, his visits were not entirely unnoticed. Each morning, Xena awoke with the distinct scent of summer rain, mingled with mint and citrus, lingering in the air. It was a scent she had come to associate with the elven prince, a fragrance that clung to him like a second skin. At first, she dismissed it as a trick of her mind, a lingering memory from the previous day. But as the days passed, and the scent persisted each morning, doubt began to creep in. Was she imagining things? Had she become so attuned to his presence that she was now conjuring the scent in her mind?

The thought nagged at her, unsettling her usually composed demeanor. She prided herself on her strength and clarity of mind, yet here she was, second-guessing her own senses. Was she truly losing her grip, intoxicated by a scent that haunted her waking hours? The idea frustrated her to no end, leaving her restless and more determined than ever to uncover the truth.

One morning, Xena was greeted by Míresgaliel, the elf maiden who had been assisting her with various tasks since her arrival in Rivendell. The gentle rustling of curtains announced the maiden's entrance as she stepped into Xena's room, her presence as calming as the serene surroundings. With a warm smile, Míresgaliel informed Xena that the gowns were finally ready and that Arwen would be waiting for her later in the gardens to try them on. As they discussed the day's plans, Míresgaliel suddenly paused, a look of curiosity crossing her delicate features.

"There is a new scent in your room," Míresgaliel remarked, her voice tinged with mild curiosity. "It's quite noticeable, a mix of mint and citrus. I was just wondering, what soap are you using?"

Xena's attention snapped to the comment, her thoughts suddenly racing. The scent. She had noticed it every morning—an unmistakable aroma of summer rain mingled with mint and citrus. But if Míresgaliel had noticed it too, then it wasn't just her imagination. Keeping her composure, Xena forced a casual tone.

"Oh, that? It's a soap from Mirkwood," she said smoothly, the lie slipping easily from her lips. She watched Míresgaliel carefully, noting the understanding nod. The explanation seemed to satisfy the maiden, who had likely noticed a similar scent around Prince Legolas.

With the conversation deftly steered away from dangerous territory, Xena assured Míresgaliel that she would meet Arwen at noon in the gardens. As the maiden left, Xena dressed in the familiar white robes provided by the elves. But as she tied the robe's soft belt around her waist, her mind was seething with fury.

She sat on the edge of her bed, her thoughts churning. All those mornings, she had believed she was losing her mind, plagued by the persistent scent of Legolas. But if Míresgaliel had smelled it too, then there was no denying it—Legolas was to blame. But what could the elf have possibly done? Sneak into her room while she was asleep?

Xena sprang to her feet, pacing the room with restless energy. No, it couldn't be. She would have noticed him. Wouldn't she? But the scent had been too strong, too real. Her mind whirled with possibilities, her anger simmering just below the surface. She needed answers, and she needed them now.

With a determined stride, Xena rushed out of her room and headed straight to the healers. Her jaw was set, her eyes blazing with the fire of someone who had been deceived. Upon reaching the healers' quarters, she demanded to know exactly what was in the nightly concoction they had been giving her.

The healers exchanged uneasy glances before one of them finally spoke, choosing their words carefully. They explained that the herbs included a mild sedative, intended to help her rest and heal more effectively. The implication was clear: she had been drugged to sleep each night.

Xena was speechless for a moment, her mind grappling with the realization. It made sense—if she had been knocked out cold, there was no way she would have noticed Legolas entering her room. Only the lingering scent of his presence. Fury coursed through her veins, but she forced herself to remain calm, knowing the healers had only done what they thought was best for her recovery.

Still, she couldn't let this slide. She made it crystal clear to the healers that they were never to add that mixture to her evening regimen again. Her tone left no room for argument, and though she held back from physically expressing her anger, the threat in her words was unmistakable. If they tried anything like that again, they would find themselves on the receiving end of her wrath.

Satisfied that the matter was settled with the healers, Xena turned on her heel and stormed out, her mind now focused on dealing with the real culprit—the damn elf prince. Legolas had some explaining to do, and she was in no mood for excuses.

Xena stormed through the corridors of Rivendell with a determined fury, her mind set on getting answers. She barely noticed the passing elves who looked at her with curiosity and concern, her focus solely on one thing: confronting Legolas. When she reached his chamber, she didn't bother to knock; she pushed the door open and entered, her eyes immediately locking onto the prince.

Legolas was sitting on the edge of his bed, his upper body bare, his hair loose and unbraided. He looked as if he had just woken up, his face still pale from sleep, and his usually sharp gaze slightly unfocused. The scent of summer rain, mingled with mint and citrus, filled the room, as always, almost overwhelming in its intensity. But today, Xena was not distracted by it. She had come for answers, and nothing would deter her.

As Legolas registered her abrupt entrance, leaving the door wide open behind her, his expression shifted from surprise to concern. Xena's eyes were blazing, her demeanor radiating a barely contained anger that instantly put him on alert. He knew something was wrong—terribly wrong. She wasn't just annoyed; she was furious, and that could only mean she had discovered something that brought her here, demanding an explanation.

Without preamble, Xena stepped closer, her eyes never leaving his. "Is it true?" she demanded, her voice low and dangerous. "Have you been sneaking into my room while I was sleeping?"

Legolas blinked, caught off guard by her directness. He hesitated, not sure how to respond. How had she found out? He had taken great care to ensure that no one, least of all Xena, would know about his nightly visits. But the truth was out, and now he had to deal with the fallout.

Instead of answering immediately, Legolas rose to his feet, his expression neutral as he walked over to close the door. The gesture was calm, and deliberate, but Xena was having none of it. As he turned back to face her, she was already pressing him again, her voice rising in intensity.

"Don't ignore me, Legolas," she snapped, stepping right up to him. "What were you doing in my room? Why would you sneak in there while I was passed out? And don't you dare lie to me?"

Legolas inhaled deeply, struggling to maintain his composure. He could see how serious she was, how hurt she felt by what she perceived as a betrayal of trust. "Xena," he began, his voice steady, "I was worried about you. You were injured, and I wanted to make sure you were resting. That's why I visited you at night. There was nothing more to it."

"Nothing more to it?" Xena echoed, her anger flaring even hotter. "You expect me to believe that? You sneak into my room every night, and you think I'm just going to accept that without question? What kind of twisted game are you playing, Legolas?"

Her accusations stung, and Legolas could feel his own frustration rising. He stepped closer, his gaze hardening. "A twisted game? You think I'm some kind of low life, skulking around in the shadows? I am a prince of Mirkwood, Xena, not some lowly thief!"

Xena's eyes narrowed. "Then why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you say something, anything, instead of sneaking around like a coward?"

"I didn't want to worry you!" Legolas shot back, his voice sharper now. "You were healing, and I thought it best if you didn't know. I thought I was doing the right thing."

"The right thing?" Xena's laugh was bitter, her patience wearing thin. "And what gives you the right to decide that? You have no idea how it feels to wake up and realize someone's been watching you, without your knowledge, without your consent!"

The argument escalated quickly, both of them speaking over each other, their words cutting and heated. Xena couldn't hold back the resentment that had been building since she realized what was happening. And Legolas, for all his calm and grace, found himself cornered, his pride wounded by her accusations.

Finally, in a moment of exasperation, Xena's fist flew before she could stop herself. The punch landed squarely on Legolas's nose, the force of it sending him stumbling back. He hit the floor, blood immediately pouring from his nose, staining the wooden boards beneath him.

For a moment, Xena stood frozen, shocked by her own action. She hadn't expected to actually land the blow—certainly not with such force. But then again, she hadn't expected the prince to just stand there and take it either. Legolas, for all his agility and skill, had made no move to dodge or block her strike.

Legolas lay on the floor, his hand clutching his nose as blood seeped through his fingers. He looked up at Xena, his expression a mixture of pain and disbelief. The initial shock quickly gave way to a dull realization—he had pushed her too far, and now they were both paying the price.

Xena's anger wavered, a flicker of guilt crossing her features as she saw the damage she had done. But her pride kept her from apologizing. She didn't offer to help him up, didn't even move closer. She simply looked down at him, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her.

"You owe me an explanation, Legolas," she said quietly, her tone laced with the remnants of her anger. "I won't ask again."

With that, she turned on her heel and left the room, leaving Legolas on the floor, still clutching his nose as the door swung shut behind her.

Legolas remained where he was, leaning against the bed for support, his mind a swirl of confusion and regret. He knew he could have handled that better—should have handled it better. But instead, he had let his pride get in the way, turning what could have been a simple explanation into a full-blown argument.

As he sat there, trying to stop the bleeding and piece together what had just happened, one thought stood out clearly in his mind: he needed to fix this, and soon, before things spiraled even further out of control.

Xena did her best to gather herself before her meeting with Arwen. She had to push down the lingering frustration and anger from her argument with Legolas, but it was no easy task. The idea of spending the afternoon trying on gowns was the last thing she wanted, yet she couldn't disappoint Arwen, especially after everything the Elven lady had done for her.

When Xena arrived at the seamstress's quarters, she was met with the warm, understanding gaze of Arwen. The Elven maiden was immediately aware that something was off. Xena's usual sharpness was dulled, her expression tense as she attempted to mask her emotions. Arwen, with her keen perception, didn't miss a beat, but she chose to approach the situation with her usual grace.

"Xena," Arwen greeted, her voice gentle yet probing. "You seem troubled. Is there something on your mind?"

Xena shook her head, forcing a small smile. "It's nothing, Arwen. Let's just get on with the gowns."

Arwen didn't press further, sensing that Xena wasn't ready to open up. They proceeded to try on the various gowns that had been prepared, each one more beautifully crafted than the last. The fabrics were rich, the designs elegant, and the seamstresses moved around them with the practiced ease of those who had spent centuries perfecting their craft.

As Xena stood before the large mirror, draped in a gown of deep emerald green that complimented her dark hair, Arwen watched her closely. There was a stiffness to Xena's movements, a telltale sign that her mind was elsewhere.

Finally, as Xena was adjusting the sleeves of another gown, Arwen couldn't hold back any longer. "Xena," she said softly, her voice filled with concern. "Something is clearly bothering you. Please, you can talk to me."

Xena paused, her hands stilling as she looked at her reflection in the mirror. For a moment, she was silent, debating whether or not to share what had happened. Arwen's patience and kindness finally broke through her resolve, and she sighed, turning to face the Elven lady.

"I had an argument with Legolas," Xena admitted, her voice tight with the remnants of her earlier anger. "He was avoiding my questions, and I… I lost my temper."

Arwen's eyes softened with understanding. "Arguments happen, even between the closest of friends," she said, her tone reassuring. "What was it that caused such tension between you?"

Xena hesitated, not wanting to delve into the details of Legolas's nightly visits or the complicated emotions tied to them. Instead, she chose a simpler explanation. "He's been keeping something from me, something important. When I confronted him about it, he wouldn't give me a straight answer. So I… I punched him."

A small smile tugged at the corner of Arwen's lips, though it was filled with empathy rather than amusement. "I see," she said, her voice gentle. "Legolas can be stubborn at times, and I understand how frustrating that can be. But, Xena, perhaps there's more to his silence than just evasion. Sometimes, when we care deeply for someone, we fear telling them the truth because we do not want to hurt them."

Xena frowned, absorbing Arwen's words. "He should have just told me the truth," she muttered. "I can handle it."

Arwen stepped closer, placing a hand on Xena's shoulder. "You're right, he should have," she agreed. "But you must also understand that Legolas is not infallible. He's proud, and that pride can sometimes lead him to make decisions that aren't always the best. Perhaps he thought he was protecting you in his own way."

Xena's expression softened slightly, but the anger still lingered beneath the surface. "It's just… I hate being kept in the dark."

"And that is understandable," Arwen said kindly. "But now that you've spoken your mind, perhaps it's time to give him a chance to explain. You and Legolas share a strong bond, one that should not be easily fractured by a misunderstanding."

Xena sighed deeply, feeling the weight of her emotions starting to lift, if only slightly. "I know you're right, Arwen. It's just… difficult."

Arwen smiled warmly, her hand giving Xena's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "It's always difficult to navigate the emotions that come with friendship, especially when there are deeper feelings involved. But don't let this argument drive a wedge between you. Take the time to listen to him when he's ready to speak. I believe you'll find that his intentions, however misguided, were born out of concern for you."

Xena nodded slowly, the anger inside her cooling as she considered Arwen's words. She knew the Elven lady was right—deep down, she had always known it. But admitting it was another matter.

"Thank you, Arwen," Xena finally said, her voice sincere. "I'll talk to him. But not yet. I need some time to cool off."

"Of course," Arwen replied, her smile full of understanding. "Take the time you need. And know that I am here if you ever need someone to talk to."

With that, they returned to the task at hand, trying on the rest of the gowns. The tension between them had eased, replaced by the comfort of shared understanding. Xena still had a lot to process, but she was grateful for Arwen's gentle guidance.

As they finished up and prepared to leave, Arwen looked at Xena with a twinkle in her eye. "And who knows," she said with a soft laugh, "perhaps a little time spent with gowns and fabrics will help clear your mind."

Xena chuckled, shaking her head. "Don't count on it, Arwen. But I appreciate the thought."

The two women left the seamstress's quarters together, the earlier tension giving way to the warmth of their growing friendship.

((Upcoming Chapter Fifty-One))

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