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 72: Sparing the Worries Away

Imladris, October 9th 3018 T.A

As the company departed from Elrond's study chamber, the tension that had built up during the hearing lingered in the air, like an unspoken storm. The soft sounds of their footsteps echoed in the grand corridors of Rivendell, each member of the group lost in their own thoughts. Despite the resolution that had been reached, there was an underlying sense of unease, as if the events of the day had only stirred deeper questions and unresolved emotions.

Legolas walked ahead of the others, his face composed but his mind anything but. The weight of the hearing, of Elrond's words, and of Erestor's sharp criticisms still pressed heavily on him. Though he had expected worse, the reprieve felt hollow. He knew he had acted impulsively, that the shadow of his past still clung to him, pushing him toward reckless decisions. His mother's death, the grief that had haunted him for centuries, had once again clouded his judgment. He was a prince, a leader, and yet he had allowed himself to falter.

Xena walked a few paces behind him, her own emotions bubbling just beneath the surface. She had defended Legolas in the chamber, and she would do so again without hesitation, but now, alone with her thoughts, she questioned what this meant for them. Legolas had always been a close friend, a comrade in countless battles, but this quest had revealed something deeper—something she hadn't fully processed. His desire to help her, to find the sword, was not just an act of duty. There was more to it. But what troubled her most was that Legolas had been running from something—something that had nearly gotten them all killed. She could see it in his eyes, the way his shoulders tensed whenever his mother was mentioned, the way he deflected conversations that came too close to his heart.

She knew, all too well, that every night he was haunted by nightmares, ones rooted in the death of his mother. They had spoken about it once or twice, but the full story remained hidden from her. She never pressed him for more, understanding that it was a deeply personal matter. Yet, she couldn't shake her concern over the relentless nightmares that tormented him each night. Now, something felt different—something was off. She had endured years of her own nightmares, haunted by the things she had done, but none seemed as harrowing as what Legolas was enduring. And today, for the first time, she began to wonder if there was more to these nightmares than he had let on.

Elladan and Elrohir followed closely behind, exchanging glances but keeping quiet. They could sense the turmoil within their friend and the growing tension between Legolas and Xena. The twins, ever attuned to the emotional undercurrents of those around them, knew that whatever words had been spoken in Elrond's chamber, the real reckoning had yet to come.

Once they reached the open gardens, the group dispersed. Elladan and Elrohir lingered near the ivy-covered arches, speaking quietly, while Xena approached Legolas, who had stopped near a stone bench overlooking a small fountain. The soft sound of the water trickling down the rocks filled the silence between them.

"Legolas," Xena said, her voice steady, though her heart raced with the questions she had been holding back. "We need to talk."

Legolas didn't look at her immediately. His gaze remained fixed on the fountain, watching the ripples in the water as if they held answers he couldn't find within himself. "About what?" he finally asked, though he knew exactly what was coming.

Xena crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Don't play that game with me. You know exactly what I'm talking about. This whole quest, the sword, your insistence on pushing forward—it wasn't just about helping me, was it? You've been running from something."

At this, Legolas turned to face her, his expression tightening. "I wasn't running from anything," he said, though the words sounded hollow even to his own ears.

Xena took a step closer, her frustration evident now. "That's a lie, and you know it. You've been distracted for days—maybe longer. The quest was reckless, and even you admitted that. But it wasn't just about the sword. Something's been eating away at you, and you refuse to talk about it. And don't tell me it's nothing."

The tension between them hung thick in the air. Legolas, for all his grace and calm, felt the strain of Xena's words hit him hard. She was right, of course. He had been running. Running from the memories, from the guilt that gnawed at him in the quiet hours of the night, from the grief that had shaped so much of his life. But how could he explain that to her? How could he burden her with that weight when he could hardly carry it himself?

Before, he had accepted his guilt and the nightmares as an inseparable part of who he was. It was clear that he intended to live with the weight of his guilt and face the nightmares head-on, no matter how dark or heavy they became. He had resolved to endure it. But recently, something shifted—something he never anticipated. The balance had changed, and now, he found himself struggling to believe his own thoughts, unwilling to accept the truths that stirred within his heart.

"I thought I could outrun it," he said quietly, his voice low and strained. "The memories, the guilt—I thought if I just kept moving, kept fighting, they would eventually fade away. That I could learn to live with them."

Xena's expression softened, though her eyes remained sharp with concern. "Your mother," she said, her voice gentle now. "You still blame yourself."

Legolas looked away again, the pain clear in his eyes. "She was captured because of me. I wasn't fast enough. I wasn't strong enough to save her. And I've carried that with me ever since. I killed her..." Legolas paused, his voice heavy with regret. She could see the torment in his eyes, but she hesitated, unsure of what to say. It was clear that even speaking about it was a burden he could barely bear.

Xena took a deep breath, knowing this was a truth Legolas had never spoken aloud before. "Legolas, that wasn't your fault. Her capture..." she trailed off, uncertain about the full extent of what had happened, especially her death. That part remained unclear, and she knew she didn't have enough information to speak on it. "Perhaps," she reluctantly agreed, "But haven't you already decided to carry on with those nightmares? What's changed?" She could sense there was something deeper, something beyond the guilt he had lived with for so long.

He shook his head, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "There is more," he admitted at last, though his voice was barely above a whisper. But as soon as the words left his lips, it was clear he had no intention of continuing. The weight of whatever he held back was palpable, yet he wasn't ready—or perhaps didn't want—to reveal it.

There was a long silence between them, filled only by the soft sounds of the fountain and the distant wind in the trees. Xena wasn't sure what to say, how to comfort him. She had faced her own demons, her own losses, but this was something else—something deeper. She could see that the weight of it had been eating at him for centuries, and no battle, no quest, could ease that pain.

"You don't have to carry it alone," Xena finally said, stepping closer. "You have people who care about you. You don't always have to be the strong one, the prince who's always in control. Let someone help you."

Legolas looked at her then, really looked at her, and for the first time in a long while, his expression softened. "I'm not used to asking for help," he admitted.

Xena smiled faintly, her voice lighter now. "You don't have to ask. I'm already here."

Before Legolas could respond, a voice interrupted them from behind. Elladan and Elrohir had been quietly watching Legolas and Xena, noting the tension that lingered between them. It wasn't unusual for close companions to fall into silence after an intense mission, but the twins knew there was something more at play. Both Legolas and Xena had grown distant and introspective since they had left the Hidden Forge behind, and the twins, always the more light-hearted of the group, decided it was time to intervene.

Elladan called out with a grin, his voice breaking the quiet. "It's been too long since we've had a proper spar. What do you say we take to the training grounds for a friendly match?"

Elrohir nodded, a playful smirk crossing his lips. "Yes, the walk has been long, and your grim faces could use some lightening. It's time to stretch those muscles properly, not just for battle but for fun." He clapped Xena on the shoulder, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

Legolas paused, turning back to look at the twins, his sharp elven gaze narrowing slightly. He knew the brothers too well; they were always up to something when they got that glint in their eyes. But perhaps it was a good idea. He was tired, and the weight of recent days was heavy on his mind. A spar might help clear his head.

Xena, still carrying the weight of the new sword at her back, raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "You're asking me to spar against elves? Aren't you afraid I might embarrass you both?" she teased, though there was a challenge in her tone.

Elladan chuckled. "The only one who should worry about embarrassment is the one who loses. But we'll see who that is soon enough."

The training grounds were situated at the edge of the woods, a large open space encircled by ancient trees that whispered in the wind. Soft grass carpeted the ground, a stark contrast to the rocky paths they had traversed in the mountains. Weapons of all kinds were laid out on stands—swords, bows, daggers, and spears—all tools of both battle and sport for the elves of Rivendell.

Legolas and Xena stepped onto the field first. Legolas had removed his tunic, leaving him in his sleeveless shirt, which allowed him freedom of movement. His long hair was tied back, the sharp angles of his face set in determination. He unsheathed his long knives, twirling them effortlessly in his hands, the blades catching the sunlight. His eyes met Xena's with a calm intensity.

Xena, in contrast, unslung her new sword from her back. The blade gleamed, perfectly balanced, and she could already feel the connection between her and the weapon. It was lighter than her old sword, but she knew it would cut through the air with deadly precision. She stood tall, her muscles coiled with energy, ready to test herself against the prince.

"First to three hits?" Legolas asked, his voice smooth but challenging.

Xena smirked. "You're on."

They circled each other slowly, each taking in the other's stance, searching for any sign of hesitation or weakness. But there was none. Legolas moved first, his feet swift and light, a blur of motion as he closed the distance between them. He struck with one knife, then the other, his movements fluid as water.

Xena parried the first strike with ease, their blades clashing with a metallic ring. The force of the second strike, however, forced her to take a step back. Legolas was fast—faster than any opponent she had ever faced. But Xena had fought gods and warlords. She wasn't going to let an elf prince get the best of her so easily.

She countered with a quick slash, her blade slicing through the air toward Legolas's midsection. He twisted out of the way, his agility allowing him to avoid the strike by mere inches. But Xena anticipated his next move, spinning on her heel and aiming for his exposed side. Legolas blocked just in time, their weapons locked for a moment, each pushing against the other with equal force.

"Not bad," Legolas said, his voice strained with effort but amused.

Xena grinned, pressing harder. "I was about to say the same."

In the background, Elladan and Elrohir watched with wide smiles, their own swords drawn, ready for their turn. "I give them two minutes before one of them lands a hit," Elladan mused.

Elrohir shook his head. "No, Xena will have him in less than that. She fights dirty."

And they weren't wrong.

Xena, sensing Legolas's next move, suddenly kicked out, sweeping his legs from under him. He fell backward, though he twisted in midair to land lightly on his feet again. His surprise was evident, but there was also a spark of respect in his eyes.

"Cheap move," he said, but he was grinning.

"Surviving is surviving," Xena shot back, lunging at him again.

Elladan and Elrohir joined in soon after, taking their places on the field. Elladan faced Legolas, while Elrohir took up a match against Xena. It became a whirlwind of blades and laughter, the sound of clashing metal filling the air as they sparred, pushing each other to the limits.

Elladan and Legolas fought with the grace and precision of centuries-old warriors, their strikes fast, yet measured. They moved like two elements in harmony, their elven blades almost a blur. Elladan's style was more grounded, relying on strength and powerful strikes, while Legolas danced around him with light, deadly movements.

Meanwhile, Elrohir and Xena's match was more visceral. Elrohir had the advantage of agility, but Xena's strength and unpredictability kept him on his toes. She used every trick she had learned in her countless battles, from feints to sudden, surprising strikes. Their battle was a dance of wit and power, each testing the limits of the other.

At one point, as Elrohir tried to get the upper hand, Xena ducked under his swing and knocked him off balance with a solid shoulder. He stumbled, laughing as he raised his sword again. "I see why Legolas keeps you around, Xena. You're as dangerous as they say."

She smiled, enjoying the compliment. "Glad to see you're paying attention."

The day passed with the sun slowly sinking lower in the sky, the sparring matches continuing with brief pauses for rest. In those moments, the tension from their recent journey began to ease, replaced by the camaraderie of warriors who understood the weight each of them carried.

By the time the day ended, they were all exhausted but lighter in spirit, the unspoken truths of their burdens momentarily set aside. The training ground had done its job—reminding them not only of the importance of sharpening their skills but also of the bonds that held them together.

((Upcoming Chapter Seventy-Three))

Thank you for taking the time to read this! Feel free to Review - Follow - Favorite!