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)

ActVI

The Shadows

Chapter 54: In the Wake of Truth

Imladris, September 17th 3018 T.A

The meeting concluded, but the elves and Xena did not immediately disperse. They lingered in the garden, forming smaller groups to discuss the topics raised during the council. Under the dappled light of the trees, conversations flowed, carrying an undercurrent of tension and curiosity.

Elrond stood with Erestor and Glorfindel, speaking in low tones about the news Xena had delivered. Some of what she had said was familiar to them, but other parts provided a new perspective on regions of Middle-earth they seldom heard about firsthand. Glorfindel's golden hair caught the sunlight as he nodded thoughtfully. "There are shadows even we have not fully comprehended," he remarked. "Her words suggest a depth to Sauron's influence in Harad that we have underestimated."

Erestor, his brow furrowed in contemplation, added, "Indeed. However, we must also consider how this knowledge might be used against him. Information from those lands is rare, and to have lived among them gives her a unique insight."

Meanwhile, across the garden, Elros, Thalion, and Mírdan gathered to discuss their thoughts. Elros spoke first, his voice hushed but intrigued. "I had heard some of these things from Xena before, but there are details I did not expect. Especially her dealings with Alakar."

Thalion nodded, his expression pensive. "What could that quest be? She did not seem willing to speak of it openly. And Alakar is no mere merchant of death; his influence runs deep."

Mírdan, always more practical, leaned in slightly. "Perhaps it is something she regrets too deeply to share. But whatever the reason, it involves more than just gold. There's a weight in her words."

In another corner, the twins, Elladan and Elrohir, had surrounded Legolas, who stood with a calm but unreadable expression. Elladan, always the more direct of the two, spoke first. "Legolas, do you know of this quest Xena mentioned? It sounds as if it involved you in some way."

Elrohir, more reserved but equally curious, added, "Is there something you are not telling us? You seemed particularly interested when Alakar's name was spoken."

Legolas, maintaining his composure, replied carefully, "I know of the quest. It was meant for me, but that is no longer of importance. She saved my life, putting herself at risk instead. What concerns me now is not the quest itself, but the fact that she ever made a deal with Alakar. That is a matter that could yet bring danger upon us all."

Elladan raised an eyebrow, sensing his friend's unease. "And do you trust her, then?"

"With my life," Legolas answered without hesitation. "But Alakar's machinations are not easily untangled."

On the far side of the garden, Xena stood with Arwen, the evening sun casting long shadows over the verdant grass. Arwen had remained silent during most of the meeting, her keen eyes taking in every subtle movement, every unspoken word. Now, with a gentle voice, she began, "There is more to this story than what was spoken. You and Legolas exchanged a look when Alakar's name was mentioned. I sensed a deeper connection."

Xena gave a slight nod, her expression guarded. "There are parts I have not shared with everyone," she admitted. "Things that I need to deal with myself."

Arwen did not press her but instead chose a different approach. "Alakar is a name that carries many dark tales. He is more than a sorcerer; he is a predator who preys on power and seeks to corrupt it for his own ends. You know of his alliance with Sauron, but perhaps you do not know how deep his influence truly goes."

Xena tilted her head, intrigued. "Legolas mentioned some things, but not in great detail. Tell me what you know."

Arwen sighed softly, her gaze distant, as if recalling painful memories. "Alakar was not always an ally of Sauron. He was once a lone figure, a sorcerer whose only allegiance was to his own dark ambitions. For centuries, he moved in the shadows, seeking power wherever he could find it. When the Necromancer first stirred in Dol Guldur, it was not only the Nazgûl and the Witch-king who flocked to his call. Alakar offered his services to the Witch-king himself, recognizing the rising power of Sauron even before he fully returned."

She paused, watching Xena closely, then continued, "Alakar's talents lie not just in his sorcery, but in his ability to manipulate and destroy from within. Many believe he was the one who poisoned the minds of men, dwarves, and even some elves, turning them against their own kin. His methods are cruel, his punishments unspeakable. There are stories of entire villages that vanished without a trace, their people enslaved or worse, transformed into things of shadow."

Xena listened intently, her face a mask of concentration. "And what of his interest in Mirkwood?"

Arwen hesitated, then spoke softly, almost as if sharing a secret. "Alakar's grudge against Mirkwood runs deep. It is said he sought to corrupt it from within, using his powers to twist minds and bend wills. And though it is not spoken of openly, there are those who believe he played a role in the dark fate of Legolas's mother."

Xena's eyes widened slightly. "What do you mean?"

"Long before her fall," Arwen whispered, her voice laced with a mix of sorrow and caution, "it is said she was captured by orcs and brought before Alakar. He tormented her with dark visions and insidious whispers that haunted her nights, seeking to bend her will, to make her a pawn within Thranduil's own halls. But she resisted. She fought him with all her strength… yet he… he twisted her, broke her spirit, and turned her into something unrecognizable, something she had despised all her life. In the end, it was Legolas, her own son, who had to deliver her from that torment."

Arwen paused, realizing she had already revealed more than was her place to say. The story, after all, belonged to Legolas, and it was his choice of what to share and what to bury in the past. Yet even he did not know the full extent of Alakar's involvement; Thranduil had kept that truth from him, believing it to be a mercy. What Legolas did know was already more than enough to shroud him in shadows—a darkness that seemed inescapable.

Xena felt a cold shiver crawl up her spine. She knew Legolas's mother had met a tragic end, but the details of how her fate had unfolded, the true horror of it, had remained unknown to her until now. The hints Arwen had dropped were enough to connect the dots—the nightmares, the guilt, the darkness Legolas had spoken of before all began to make a cruel, twisted sense.

"So Alakar's vendetta against Mirkwood is… personal," Xena murmured, her voice low but filled with the weight of the revelation.

Arwen nodded slightly, her expression somber. "Yes, deeply personal. And his hatred is a fire that will not be easily extinguished," Arwen affirmed, "but his plans were interrupted when Sauron moved to Mordor. Since then, Alakar has served the Dark Lord with a more direct purpose, but that does not mean his grudge has faded. He is still a force to be reckoned with, one who does not easily forget or forgive."

Xena absorbed this new information, her mind racing with the implications. She now understood the warnings more clearly. Alakar was not just another enemy; he was a cunning adversary with a personal vendetta and an insatiable hunger for power.

Arwen watched her closely, sensing her unease. "Be cautious, Xena," she advised gently. "Alakar is a dangerous foe. Do not underestimate him or the lengths he will go to achieve his goals."

Xena nodded, her face set in a determined expression. "I won't. But if he comes for me, he will find that I am not easily broken."

Arwen smiled faintly, her eyes filled with both admiration and concern. "I do not doubt it."

The weight of their conversation hung heavy in the air, lingering like the last rays of sunlight that stretched long and thin across the gardens. As the evening wore on, the groups that had gathered began to disperse, each individual returning to their own chambers or heading off to attend to their personal matters. Xena, too, left the gathering, her mind troubled by the revelations about Alakar. The thought of fulfilling the contract, or even ignoring it, had been gnawing at her conscience, but now she realized she couldn't simply leave it unresolved. She needed to find a way to decline the quest, to return the gold she had accepted. It became a goal for the future—a task she would not shirk, though she knew it would not be easy. She would not return to Umbar for that alone, but if her path ever led her there again, she would ensure it was done.

What lingered most in her thoughts, however, was Alakar's connection to Legolas's nightmares. Though she wasn't certain if the elf was still tormented by them each night, she had seen glimpses—moments when his pain was evident, heavy, and all-consuming. The weight of it troubled her deeply.

As she wandered through the winding corridors of the House of Elrond, Xena found herself drawn toward a familiar spot, a place where the wild beauty of Rivendell revealed itself in full force. The main hall led her to an opening, a ledge where the wild plants grew untamed, and the waterfalls roared as they plunged down the cliffs below. She walked to the very edge, feeling the spray of the water on her face, the wind tugging at her gown and hair as she stood there, lost in her thoughts.

She had been standing there for some time, her mind adrift in the tumult of her own worries, when she became aware of another presence. He approached quietly, as was his way, and for a moment, he hesitated upon seeing her. Legolas had come to this spot to find solace in the open sky and the endless rush of water. His first instinct was to turn away, to leave her to her solitude, but something held him back. Instead, he stepped forward, coming to stand beside her at the edge of the ledge.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound between them was the constant roar of the waterfall, a reminder of the wild power that lay just beyond the borders of Rivendell's serenity. Finally, Xena broke the silence, her voice soft but steady. "I didn't expect to see you here," she said, her eyes still focused on the churning waters below.

Legolas glanced at her, his expression unreadable. "Nor did I expect to find you here," he replied, his voice gentle. "But perhaps it is fitting. This place… it has a way of drawing those who seek clarity."

Xena nodded, her gaze unwavering. "Clarity… it's something I've been searching for, but it seems the more I seek it, the more elusive it becomes."

Legolas turned his eyes back to the waterfall, the tension in his shoulders evident. "I know the feeling," he admitted quietly. "Sometimes, it feels like the answers we seek are just out of reach, hidden behind the noise of our own thoughts."

They stood in silence again, the words between them unspoken, yet heavy with meaning. Finally, Xena turned to face him, her expression serious. "Legolas, there's something I need to say—something I should have said before."

Legolas's gaze remained fixed on Xena, the intensity in his eyes unwavering. "What is it, Xena?" he asked, his voice steady, but there was a hint of apprehension there, a shadow of expectation.

Xena inhaled deeply, feeling the weight of her confession pressing down on her. Her voice was firm, but there was an edge to it, a sharpness born of guilt and frustration. "The contract I took… the one from Alakar. The job I accepted," she paused, her blue eyes searching his face, "was to kill you."

Legolas's expression did not change. He did not flinch or recoil, but a flicker of something darker passed through his eyes, a knowing understanding that settled there like a quiet storm. "I know, you told me," he said softly. "That it was still troubling you. But you didn't carry it out. Instead, you saved my life."

Xena shook her head, her frustration evident. "That doesn't excuse what I did, Legolas. I was blinded by the promise of gold, by the challenge of it all. I didn't think it through—I didn't think about what it meant to take on such a contract. And now, I find myself entangled in something far darker than I ever imagined."

Legolas's face softened slightly. He moved closer, placing a hand gently on her shoulder, his touch light, but his grip firm. "We all make mistakes, Xena," he said, his voice steady and calm. "What matters is what we do after those mistakes. You chose to save me, to stand by my side. That speaks more of your character than the contract you accepted."

Xena lifted her gaze to meet his, her eyes a mix of guilt and determination. "I need to make this right, Legolas," she insisted. "I need to find a way to return the gold, to sever any ties with Alakar. But more than that… I need to understand what role he played in your past, in your nightmares. I feel like there's something I'm missing, something that's keeping me from seeing the whole picture."

She hesitated for a moment, realizing she might have overstepped. Arwen had hinted that Legolas might not know everything about Alakar's involvement, and if he did, it was likely only a partial truth. Still, she felt that honesty was the only path forward. They had reached a point where they could speak openly with each other, and she would not hold back now.

Legolas sighed, turning his gaze to the cascading waterfall, the roar of the water filling the space between them. He knew more about Alakar than most would guess. No one had ever told him the full story; his father had shielded him from much of the truth. But the nightmares he had endured for centuries had revealed everything—images, visions that came in the dark of the night, glimpses of his mother's suffering, her transformation. It wasn't merely guilt that had haunted him, but a cruel reality that had unfolded in his dreams, tormenting him.

He didn't speak for a long moment, choosing his words carefully. "Alakar… he is a shadow that lingers over Mirkwood, over my family," Legolas began slowly, his voice low and weighted with pain. "My mother… she was changed by him, twisted into something she was not. And in the end, it was I who had to stop her."

Xena's heart clenched at his words, feeling a surge of empathy and sorrow for the elf beside her. "Then you knew about Alakar?" she asked softly, sensing the deep pain in his voice. "I'm sorry, Legolas. I had no idea…"

He shook his head slightly, his voice carrying a heavy tone. "There's nothing to be sorry for, Xena. It's a part of my past, a part of who I am. But it's also something I must carry with me, whether I like it or not."

Without hesitation, Xena reached out and placed her hand over his, her touch firm and reassuring. "You don't have to carry it alone," she said softly, her voice steady and sincere. "We're in this together, remember?"

Legolas turned his gaze back to her, and a small, grateful smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "That means more to me than you know," he replied, his voice softer now, a hint of warmth breaking through the shadows that clung to him.

They lingered in that quiet space near the waterfall, letting the sound of the cascading water fill the silence between them. Neither spoke, but there was no need for words. In their shared solitude, they found a tentative comfort, a fragile connection formed through understanding and pain. When they finally parted ways, both were lost in thought, their minds heavy with new revelations and decisions that could not be made lightly.

Legolas, for the first time in a long while, felt a strange sense of clarity settle over him. Speaking with Xena had affirmed what he had suspected but never fully acknowledged: his nightmares were not mere visions born of guilt and sorrow—they were memories, glimpses of a darker truth. Alakar had indeed been behind his mother's torment, her descent into madness and her eventual transformation into a twisted form of herself. A personal vendetta against Alakar had begun to take shape in his mind, the first hints of a hunt he had avoided contemplating for too long.

The thought of vengeance was not foreign to Legolas, but it was a path he had always tread carefully, wary of where it might lead. Yet now, the idea of bringing justice to the one who had caused such suffering to his family stirred something deep within him. The hunt was not one he would embark upon immediately—there were other matters at hand, other battles to fight—but the seed had been planted. His mind began to weave the possibilities, the plans forming in the shadows of his thoughts. He could not save his mother, but he could ensure that the one who had twisted her fate would face the consequences.

For Xena, the conversation had brought its own kind of resolution. She had sought answers and had found them, but along with that clarity came a deeper understanding of what Legolas endured. She now knew that his mother's death had been by his own hand, a fact that cast a new light on his aloofness, his moments of distance, and his need for solitude. The weight of such a memory, the torment of reliving it night after night in his dreams, made sense now. She understood why he preferred to be alone when the nightmares claimed him.

As she walked back to her chamber, Xena felt a pang of regret. She had judged him harshly, quick to anger at his perceived arrogance and pride, not realizing the depth of what he carried with him. The knowledge of his burden softened her perception, and she felt a growing curiosity to understand more about him, to know the full scope of his story, his pain, and the nightmares that haunted him.

She paused at the entrance to her chamber, her hand resting on the doorframe, her mind spinning with thoughts. For so long, she had focused on her own path, her own battles and burdens. But now, for reasons she couldn't quite name, she found herself drawn to the elf and his struggles. She wanted to help him, to stand by his side, not just as a fellow warrior, but as someone who understood, someone who cared.

Legolas, on the other hand, returned to his chamber with a new determination burning in his heart. He had avoided facing the truth for too long, buried it beneath duty and distractions, but now he knew he could no longer ignore it. He could not change the past, could not save his mother, but he could honor her memory by seeking justice.

Both of them, in their own way, had been changed by their encounter. The bond between them had grown deeper, shaped by shared confidences and unspoken understanding. The road ahead was uncertain, but they were no longer traveling it alone.

((Upcoming Chapter Fifty-Five))

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