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 64: Entrance's Forge

Hidden Forge of Eregion, September 22th 3018 T.A

The forest was still, the quiet hum of the night giving way to the faint murmur of dawn. A gentle mist clung to the ground, the world soft and blurred around the edges as the first pale light of morning crept through the trees. The camp was silent, the only sound the soft breathing of those still wrapped in sleep. The fire had died down to a faint glow, its embers flickering weakly in the cool air.

Legolas was not asleep.

He lay on his bedroll, his body rigid, his eyes squeezed shut against the torrent of images that assaulted him. His chest rose and fell in shallow, rapid breaths, his fingers clenched tightly around the edge of his blanket as if holding on for dear life. He was trapped in the endless loop of his nightmares, a prisoner to the dark shadows of his mind.

The visions were vivid, as they always were, blurring the line between memory and dream. He saw his mother, her face twisted in agony, her eyes hollow and empty. Her voice echoed in his ears, a haunting, broken whisper that cut through his soul. "Legolas, why didn't you save me? Why did you let this happen?"

The scene shifted, and he was back in Dol Guldur, the black fortress rising before him like a jagged scar against the sky. He could feel the weight of his bow in his hands, the string cutting into his fingers as he aimed, his heart pounding with fear and rage. His mother stood before him, but she was no longer herself. The darkness had taken her, twisted her into something monstrous. Her eyes, once so full of light, were now black as the void, her voice a cruel mockery of what it once was.

"You did this to me," she hissed, her words sharp as a blade. "You left me to suffer. You are no son of mine."

He released the arrow, the scream tearing from his throat as it flew through the air, piercing her heart. She crumpled to the ground, her body broken and lifeless, and he felt his soul shatter. The guilt, the agony, the unbearable weight of his failure crushed him, drowning him in a sea of despair.

And then, as always, the shadow appeared. A figure cloaked in darkness, its presence suffocating, oppressive. It moved closer, its eyes glowing like embers in the night, and he could feel its gaze boring into him, searing his very being. *You will never be free,* it whispered, its voice a chilling caress. "This is your fate, your penance. You will suffer for all eternity."

Legolas struggled to breathe, his chest tightening as if iron bands were wrapped around it. He tried to turn away, to escape, but the darkness held him fast, pulling him deeper and deeper into the abyss.

"You belong to me."

With a jolt, Legolas awoke, his body trembling, his skin damp with sweat. His heart was racing, the echo of the nightmare still lingering in his mind, sharp and vivid. He sat up slowly, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he forced himself to focus on the world around him. The camp was peaceful, the faint light of dawn filtering through the trees, casting a soft glow over the clearing.

He pressed a hand to his chest, willing his heart to slow, to find some semblance of calm. But the images wouldn't fade, the pain wouldn't ease. It was always like this. Every night. The same torment, the same relentless guilt. He swallowed hard, his throat tight, and glanced around the camp. The others were still asleep, their forms huddled under blankets, the gentle rise and fall of their breathing a steady, reassuring rhythm.

He moved quietly, not wanting to wake them as he stood and stretched, his muscles aching from the tension that had gripped him throughout the night. He needed air, needed space. Needed to remind himself that he was here, in this moment, and not lost in the horrors of his past.

He stepped away from the camp, his movements silent, his gaze fixed on the horizon where the sky was just beginning to lighten. The cool morning air washed over him, carrying with it the scent of pine and earth, the promise of a new day. He closed his eyes, drawing in a deep, steadying breath, and for a moment, he could almost feel the shadows recede.

Almost.

But they were never truly gone. Always lurking, always waiting.

He sighed softly, his gaze drifting back to the camp. It was time to wake the others, to get moving. They had a long journey ahead, and he couldn't afford to dwell on the darkness that haunted him. Not now.

Returning to the clearing, he moved to where Xena lay, her form still and peaceful. He hesitated, his hand hovering just above her shoulder, before gently shaking her awake. "Xena," he murmured, his voice soft but firm. "It's time."

She stirred, blinking up at him, her eyes bleary with sleep. "Legolas?" she mumbled, her voice thick and groggy. "What time is it?"

"Dawn," he replied, offering her a faint smile. "We need to get moving."

Xena nodded, pushing herself up and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She glanced around, taking in the quiet camp, the fading embers of the fire, the soft glow of the morning light. "How long have you been awake?" she asked, her voice still low, her gaze searching his face.

He shrugged, turning away to busy himself with the horses. "Long enough."

She didn't press further, but he could feel her eyes on him, a question unasked hanging in the air between them. He busied himself with packing his things, his movements quick and efficient, trying to shake off the lingering weight of the nightmare.

Elladan and Elrohir woke soon after, the twins stretching and yawning as they emerged from their blankets. They exchanged a glance, their eyes flicking to Legolas, then to Xena. "Ready to move out?" Elladan asked, his voice light, but there was a hint of concern there, a subtle tension.

"As ready as we'll ever be," Xena replied, her tone steady, though she shot Legolas a look that said she wasn't fooled by his calm demeanor. She knew him too well for that.

They worked quickly, the camp coming alive with activity as they packed up their belongings, secured their bedrolls, and saddled the horses. The mood was lighter now, the camaraderie that had marked their journey so far returning as they prepared for another day on the road. Elrohir cracked a few jokes, drawing a reluctant smile from Xena, and Elladan hummed a soft tune as he rolled up his blanket.

Legolas remained quiet, his focus on the task at hand, but there was a warmth in his gaze as he watched his friends. This, at least, was familiar. This, he could handle.

When everything was ready, they mounted their horses, the familiar weight of the saddle settling comfortably beneath them. The sky was brighter now, the sun just beginning to peek over the horizon, casting long, golden shadows across the ground. The forest seemed to come alive around them, the morning air filled with the sounds of birdsong and the rustle of leaves.

Legolas took the lead, his eyes scanning the path ahead, alert for any signs of danger. The others fell into place behind him, their movements easy and synchronized, the rhythm of their journey falling into place once more.

As they rode, the forest slowly thinned, the trees giving way to open fields dotted with wildflowers. The air was crisp and clear, the sky a brilliant blue overhead. It was a beautiful day, the kind that made the world feel full of promise, of possibilities.

But for Legolas, the shadows still lingered, a dark thread woven through the brightness of the morning. He pushed it aside, focusing on the road ahead, on the journey that awaited them. There was no room for weakness, no time for doubts.

Not now.

The sun had begun its descent when the company reached the western slopes of the Misty Mountains. Shadows stretched long and deep over the rocky terrain, the jagged peaks rising like dark sentinels against the fading sky. The journey had been arduous, the path treacherous and winding, but they pressed on, their determination unwavering.

Legolas rode at the front, his sharp eyes scanning the landscape for any sign of their destination. The Hidden Forge of Eregion was shrouded in legend and mystery, its entrance long lost to the knowledge of even the most learned of elves. But Legolas had pieced together what he could from the scrolls in Rivendell and the ancient tales whispered among his people. They were close now, he could feel it—a faint pull, a resonance in the air that spoke of something ancient and powerful lying just beyond their reach.

Elladan and Elrohir rode beside him, their expressions focused, their keen senses attuned to the subtleties of their surroundings. Behind them, Xena followed, her eyes wide with curiosity and anticipation. The journey had been unlike anything she had experienced before, and now, as they approached the culmination of their quest, she felt a thrill of excitement course through her.

The path led them into a narrow ravine, the walls towering high on either side, casting deep shadows that seemed to swallow the fading light. The air grew cooler, the scent of earth and stone mingling with the crisp mountain breeze. Legolas slowed his horse, his gaze fixed on the rocky cliffs ahead. There, half-hidden among the crags and boulders, was something that caught his eye—a faint, almost imperceptible marking etched into the stone.

He dismounted, his movements graceful and deliberate, and approached the cliff face. The others followed suit, their horses stamping restlessly as they sensed the tension in the air. Legolas reached out, his fingers brushing lightly over the ancient symbols carved into the rock. They were worn and weathered, almost invisible to the untrained eye, but he could feel the faint traces of Elven magic pulsing through them.

"This is it," he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper. He glanced back at the others, his expression a mix of excitement and caution. "The entrance is here, hidden in the stone."

Elladan stepped forward, his brow furrowing as he studied the markings. "Are you sure?" he asked, his tone skeptical. "It looks like nothing more than old runes."

Legolas nodded, his gaze returning to the cliff face. "I am sure. These runes were placed here to conceal the entrance, to keep it hidden from those who do not know where to look."

Elrohir exchanged a glance with his brother, then stepped closer, his eyes narrowing as he traced the lines with his fingers. "There is magic here," he agreed softly. "Old magic. It feels… strange, though. Different from the enchantments of Rivendell."

Xena watched them, her curiosity piqued. "So, how do we get in?" she asked, her voice cutting through the tension.

Legolas hesitated, then turned to face her. "The runes are part of a spell," he explained. "A key of sorts. We need to decipher them, to understand the pattern they form. Only then will the entrance be revealed."

He knelt down, tracing the symbols with his fingers, his brow furrowed in concentration. The others gathered around him, their eyes fixed on the ancient markings. The runes were a complex interweaving of lines and curves, forming an intricate design that seemed to shift and change as they watched.

Elladan crouched beside him, his expression thoughtful. "It's a riddle," he murmured. "The runes form a riddle, and we must find the answer."

Legolas nodded, his mind racing as he pieced together the fragments of the spell. The words came to him slowly, their meaning elusive, but gradually the pattern began to emerge. He spoke the incantation softly, his voice barely more than a breath, and as he did, the runes began to glow with a faint, ethereal light.

The ground beneath them trembled, a deep, resonant hum filling the air. The runes flared brightly, then faded, the stone before them shifting and sliding as if it were alive. The cliff face parted, revealing a narrow opening, dark and forbidding, leading into the depths of the mountain.

Xena let out a low whistle, her eyes wide with awe. "Well, that's something you don't see every day."

Elrohir grinned, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "And here I thought we'd be searching for days. Well done, Legolas."

Legolas managed a faint smile, though his gaze remained fixed on the entrance. "It's only the beginning," he said quietly. "Whatever lies beyond this door will not be easy to face."

They exchanged a glance, a silent agreement passing between them. They had come this far; there was no turning back now. Legolas stepped forward, drawing his bow and nocking an arrow, his senses alert as he led the way into the darkness.

The passage was narrow, the air cool and damp, the walls slick with moisture. Their footsteps echoed softly in the confined space, the faint light of their torches casting flickering shadows on the rough stone. The path wound downward, twisting and turning, the air growing colder and stiller with each step they took.

As they descended deeper into the mountain, the atmosphere changed. A strange, oppressive feeling settled over them, a weight that pressed down on their hearts and minds. The air felt heavy, charged with an ancient power, and they could sense the lingering presence of something vast and unseen.

"Do you feel that?" Xena whispered, her voice barely audible in the darkness.

Elladan nodded, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword. "It's the magic of the forge. The power of the weapons created here still lingers, even after all these years."

Legolas glanced back at them, his eyes shadowed. "Be on your guard. We do not know what we will find."

The path leveled out, opening into a vast chamber that seemed to stretch endlessly into the darkness. The ceiling was lost in shadow, the walls lined with massive stone pillars, their surfaces carved with intricate designs that glowed faintly in the torchlight.

At the far end of the chamber stood a massive door, its surface covered in runes and sigils that pulsed with a soft, golden light. It was a door like no other, its presence dominating the room, a tangible barrier between them and whatever lay beyond.

"This is it," Legolas said softly, his voice echoing in the vast space. "The door to the forge."

They moved closer, their eyes fixed on the door, its surface shimmering with a strange, almost hypnotic light. The runes seemed to dance and shift, forming patterns that were both beautiful and unsettling.

Elrohir reached out, his fingers brushing lightly over the surface. He drew back with a sharp intake of breath, his eyes wide. "It's warm," he murmured. "As if there's a fire burning just beyond."

Legolas stepped forward, his gaze intense. "There is only one way to find out."

He placed his hand against the door, feeling the warmth of the metal beneath his palm. He closed his eyes, whispering the words of the spell he had deciphered from the runes outside. The door shuddered, the runes flaring brightly, then began to swing open, a low, grinding sound filling the chamber.

They held their breath, the tension palpable as the door slowly revealed what lay beyond. The air was thick with the scent of metal and stone, the dim light of the forge casting eerie shadows over the massive, silent machinery that filled the room. It was a place of creation, of power, but also of destruction.

The Hidden Forge of Eregion.

They stepped inside, their eyes wide with wonder and trepidation. The forge was vast, its walls lined with towering shelves of weapons and armor, the tools of the Elven-smiths still resting where they had been left centuries ago. But the air was heavy with a sense of abandonment, of a place long forgotten and forsaken.

Xena moved closer to one of the shelves, her fingers trailing lightly over the hilt of a sword, its blade gleaming faintly in the dim light. "This place…" she whispered, her voice filled with awe. "It's incredible."

Legolas nodded, his gaze sweeping over the room. "It is a place of legend," he said softly. "But we must be cautious. There may still be dangers here."

As if in response to his words, a low, rumbling sound echoed through the chamber, the ground beneath their feet trembling. They exchanged a tense glance, their hands moving instinctively to their weapons.

"Whatever it is, it knows we're here," Elladan muttered, his voice tight with anticipation.

They moved forward cautiously, their eyes darting around the room, searching for any sign of movement. The shadows seemed to shift and flicker, the air humming with a strange energy. And then, from the far end of the forge, they heard it—a low, guttural growl, the sound of something large and dangerous stirring in the darkness.

Legolas raised his bow, his expression grim. "Stay together," he ordered, his voice steady despite the fear that gripped his heart. "Whatever is out there, we face it together."

They moved as one, their steps sure and silent, their eyes fixed on the shadows ahead. The growl grew louder, a deep, menacing rumble that seemed to reverberate through the very air around them.

((Upcoming Chapter Sixty-Five))

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